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#i might delete this later bc i feel a little embarrassed but i hope someone reads this who needs to hear it

tvrningout-a · 7 months

Text

being a person is incredibly hard, but i’m really glad you keep choosing to be one. i know sometimes it might feel like you’re bad at it; you’re wrong. you’re perfectly good at it, and the struggling is just part of it. it doesn’t necessarily make us better or worse whether we take it in stride or stumble and fall. but i do think it helps us to understand ourselves, understand our loved ones, understand that being a person is hard but not something we have to do alone. we were never meant to do it alone, and i’m glad i don’t have to.

thank you for being a person with me 💜

#i might delete this later bc i feel a little embarrassed but i hope someone reads this who needs to hear it #i had a talk with my friends that really needed to happen and i just really hope that despite how bad #i am with communicating that you guys know that i really do appreciate y’all and i’m happy to exist at the same time #as the lovely and kindhearted people i’ve met on this silly site 💜#pls take care of yourselves and pls remember we’re meant to lean on each other and support each other #as hard as it is to reach for someone’s hand pls reach out anyway #and remember you’re doing your best and that is always enough 💜#get ready to ramble | ooc

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stutterfly · 3 years

Text

Swipe Right 04 | Patch Notes | JJK (M)

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader, brot7 x friendship

Genre: E2L, fluff, angst, humor, [eventual] smut, PersonalTrainer!Jungkook, fuckboy!Jungkook, Nerd!Jungkook, Nerd/IT!Reader

Word Count: 15.1K

Last time on SR03: You joined a gym to increase your confidence and things progressed the way you want with your tinder match. You ended up in an unlikely competition with your friends when you went new bar together, leading to some unexpected conversations and shenanigans.

CW & Other Tags: Drinking, anxiety/panic attack mentions, muscle tearing injury mention, fuckboy Jungkook, pining, flirting, pick-up lines, sexual tension, Joonie is still Y/N’s best boi, soft Jungkook

Series: Activate your SIMCard

Fic: Swipe Right (4/?- Ongoing)

Do not repost.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

When’s the last time you felt as good as you do right now? Jungkook has pretty much stopped bothering you since that night at Seesaw, your date with Jason went well, and you’ve been sticking to your early morning workouts. You definitely don’t push yourself as much as trainer Hwasa, and you know you should really take advantage of the free trial, but it was overwhelming to take in so much at once and the session made you sore all over for days.

At least your stamina seems to be improving and you’ve discovered post-workout endorphins are real. Tonight is your second date with Jason, a date you’ve uncharacteristically elected to host at your apartment. You can place some blame on those endorphins for your boldness, with pining and disappointment composing the rest of it.

While your first date ended without a kiss, there was enough flirting to keep you hopeful. Neither of you were brave enough to do anything about it then, but you’ve mentally coached yourself into pretending like you have an unbreakable spine with nerves of steel. Meeting him only solidified your attraction, and you’ve resolved to take the lead, even though you feel like you have no idea what you’re doing.

It’s not like you often make the first move, but your confidence in him to do so has waned. You’ve been talking and playing games together online for months without any physical touch. Despite how he’s said he likes you and wants to see you again, you’d still be waiting if you didn’t suggest today.

You’re determined to show him what he’s missing by being a recluse. That’s why you’ve picked out the sluttiest clothes and the strappiest heels you own, decorated your face with expensive makeup, and even styled your hair instead of just letting it do whatever it wants for the day. You check yourself out in the full-length mirror on your bedroom door for the millionth time and pull down on the hem of your dress like it will somehow magically grow longer.

You don’t need the heels; no part of the night calls for them. You’re going to be sitting on the couch with him. If you’re lucky you’ll even move it to the bedroom you spent so much time cleaning. But they’re cute and they make you feel sexy, so you’re going to keep them on until he’s peeling you out of your dress.

Nerves bubble in your stomach, but you have to pretend like they’re not there or you’ll fixate on how hard you’re trying to be confident and cool. You’ll fall apart when it’s obvious to Jason how hard you’re pretending to be everything you aren’t. Checking your phone doesn’t help; it’s almost time.

Taking a deep breath, you pace through the confines of your apartment as you wait, and answer group texts from Jennie and Namjoon. You offer up a selfie, hoping any compliments will build your confidence enough to stave off the anxiety in your gut. A few devil emojis later, some keysmashing, and more than a couple hamfisted compliments from Namjoon, your ego is adequately inflated but you can always use more hyping. Maybe you should send it to Jimin to fish for more compliments? He’d indulge you for sure.

Instead you flop on the couch and open Tinder. According to Jennie, Jason is stringing you along; it’s been months, but you hate to admit that she has a point. So you don’t. She’s been telling you for a while now that she thinks you should pursue other suitors. While you object to her assumptions, she has more experience with this kind of stuff. It’s not exactly something you want to believe, not when you’ve put in so much effort for literal months.

You want to believe in Jason being awkward and dorky and that’s why it’s taken so long for the two of you to hook up. He’s shy and super introverted, but so are you. So why are you the only one trying to make things happen? You want to believe, but at this point you’re uncertain enough to heed Jennie’s advice and keep swiping any time you find yourself in a situation where you’re waiting on him. Like now.

You have your reservations about swiping while you wait for your date to begin, but you can practically hear Jennie cheering you on. He’s late anyway, and it will keep you busy until he arrives. You open the discovery tab and swipe left on a couple incomplete profiles. Most of the guys on here don’t put in any effort. How are you supposed to want to give any of them a chance when you don’t even get a tiny snapshot of who they are?

When you pass on yet another fish pic profile, a blue frame appears around the next guy in line. It takes a moment for your brain to register the name along with the duck-faced photo as someone familiar.

[Jungkook said: Your legs remind me of oreos 🥴 wanna know why?]

How fucking dare he? You match with the intent to ream him out and leave.

You: I told you not to fucking find me on here

It takes only a few seconds before you see the dots move on his end, like he was waiting for the moment you would answer, and it keeps you tethered to the conversation.

Jungkook: Princess!! I couldn’t help myself how are you

Jungkook: Surprised you didn’t block me

You: Don’t worry I’m gonna

Jungkook: it’s bc you wanna know huh

You: ???

Jungkook: Your legs

Jungkook: Like oreos

Jungkook: I wanna split them n lick the cream from the center 😜

Electricity rumbles in your gut, carrying heat and a surge of excitement to your cunt that threatens to flood your panties. You swallow hard and squeeze your thighs together as you stare at the screen. Embarrassed by the response his antics elicit, you scramble to formulate a coherent thought.

You: I wish I could unread 🤢

Jungkook: Aw but that’s one of my favorites

Jungkook: Just like you 😘

You: 🙄

You: I hate you so much

Jungkook: So much that you matched with me?

You stare at the message like a clever response will come to you and when it doesn’t you bite your lip. He’s got a point. Haven’t you learned your lesson not to encourage him? Your eyes scan the top of your phone for any notifications from Jason. Nothing. At least this is keeping you distracted. That’s what you tell yourself.

Jungkook: You’re still here which means 👀

You: It means I’m tired

Jungkook: Of?

You pause for a moment. Namjoon and Jennie can’t know how anxious you are about Jason. It’s the guy’s last strike with them and he hasn’t even met them yet. Jungkook, an impartial third party, might be able to lend an ear. As much as you don’t care what he thinks, you need an outlet for the anxiety in your chest. You start to draft a word-vomit. Jason has been so hesitant to see you in person again and now he’s late. Maybe if you just put it out there to someone you’ll feel better.

Jungkook: If you need to sleep how about a massage?

Jungkook: I’m good with my fingers 🥴

Stupid. In what universe could you confide in Jungkook? Deleting your word-vomit before you can send it, you start to type something else, but your thumb accidentally taps enter at the exact wrong moment.

You: You know what? I want you

FUCK. Goddamn you, sausage fingers.

You scramble to rewrite the sentence but Jungkook is quicker. He has to know it was an accident, but you’re still fucking mortified.

Jungkook: 😈

Jungkook: My place

Jungkook: Ten minutes

You: *to stay off my profile

Jungkook: 👉👌?

You: YOU KNOW I DIDN’T MEAN THAT

You: 🤢🤢🤢

Jungkook: 😩

Jungkook: Now you’re just playing games with me princess

Jungkook: Can’t say I mind just fuck me up 🥴

You: Don’t you have a princess to fuck in another castle? Maybe she can stroke your tiny ego

Jungkook: Ouch felt that from here

He goes quiet and you close the conversation out. Setting the phone down on the cushion beside you lasts all of two seconds. When your phone buzzes twice, you know better than to answer, yet you feel compelled to look.

Jungkook: Hey quick question

Jungkook: Is this the most you’ve used the app to talk with someone you like? 👻

Just like that you unmatch with him and take a moment to seethe. Distraction or no, he’s not worth the mental energy. He always seems to draw you in like a pretty little thirst trap and drain you of your sanity. Not engaging is the safest option so why do you always end up doing so? Maybe it’s that shitty little part of you that gets excited any time he shows you attention.

There’s a gullible girl within you; she sets your pulse on fire when he feigns even the slightest interest, fills your head with wind when he brushes against you, and floods your eyes with tears when he walks away. Still, she wants him to look at you, even if it means he’s really looking through you. You hate her. Why can’t she learn that you deserve better?

You check the time again and wince. Jason is really late now. Not even a text. Or a phone call. Maybe it’s traffic?

Try to relax. Nothing bad is going to happen. You’re going to have fun tonight.

You start up a game to take your mind off the options available to explain his absence. When you’re invested in a game you often lose track of time, but tonight you’re hyper-aware of every minute that passes. You bite at your freshly painted nails during loading screens, chipping the red from their edges. Sounding casual is difficult when you’re worried, but you attempt it anyway via text. It’s ten more agonizing minutes of waiting before your phone buzzes with an answer.

The controller drops to your lap and immediately tears begin to sprinkle your thighs with the manifestation of your heartache.

He forgot.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

An earthy scent fills Namjoon’s apartment as he carefully transfers the last of his plants to a bigger pot, filling in the edges of its roots with fresh soil and patting the edges down with care. His plants have needed this, maybe even more than he needs the mini hangout that will soon follow. The kitchen table is covered in dirt, but at least he’s almost done.

It’s not his fault Jungkook showed up earlier than expected. At least he’s quiet now. It’s been a while, but he’s finally stopped asking about how much longer it will take, so he must either be invested in the show he put on or asleep on the couch.

“Almost done,” Namjoon loudly announces. “Can you text Tae?”

“Kay.” Jungkook yawns as he stands and heads towards the bathroom. “Jin was already cooking when I left so it should be ready soon.”

“Good. I’m hungry,” Namjoon says, carefully transporting the plant to the desk in his bedroom.

As he’s on his way to clean up the mess on the table there’s a soft rapid knock at the front door. The moment he opens it and finds you standing before him, he knows something is wrong. Even the ratty hoodie covering your shoulders can’t hide the effort you’ve obviously put into your appearance tonight. While your makeup seems to have fared rather well, your eyes are red and your cheeks are puffy. His mind automatically assumes the worst about your second date and his jaw tightens.

“What happened? Did he hurt you?”

“He never showed.” You throw your arms around him and openly sob.

“Oh, Y/N…” His arms are around you in an instant, hugging you close while keeping his dirty fingers at bay.

You press your cheek against his chest, letting the tears fall freely. “I’m sorry. I know you probably have plans tonight, but I wanted to stop here—” You choke out a loud sob and wipe your nose with your sleeve as you look down at the floor. “I didn’t want to drive upset but you weren’t answering and I just—”

“Shit. Exam today. I left it on silent.” He pats his pocket to make sure it’s still there, wiping as much dirt as he can on his jeans before placing his hands on your shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay. Deep breaths.”

Jungkook emerges from the bathroom quietly with a furrowed brow and pursed lips. Did he hear your voice or is it his imagination? Unsure if you’re some wishful remnant of earlier texts, he peeks around the corner.

Heels: black, strappy heels with a velvety smooth red undersole. Has he ever seen you in heels? If he has, it’s never been something as flashy as these. His gaze travels up the smooth, exposed skin of your legs until it hits the hem of a skirt. The dark fabric seems a little short; it clings to your thighs, riding up as you embrace his friend. It’s hard not to notice how well it accents the curve of your hips and more importantly: your ass. He’s definitely never seen you in something so revealing, not even on nights where you’ve joined them for dancing.

He pauses for a fraction of a second, eyes trained on the swell of your ass before moving up to find the disappointing sight of your favorite hoodie barring much else from view. Namjoon’s arms outline your shape, but the places his hands rest are far too respectable to glean much else other than simple blueprints.

With his dick leading his steps, Jungkook opens his mouth to announce his presence with a joke. He means to selfishly steal a glimpse of your entire ensemble with some snarky comment but you choke out a sob and his stomach lurches to form a whirlpool of apprehension. His mouth remains open, but his words are swallowed back into the dark swirling pit that now wrenches his gut in circles.

Namjoon looks up just in time to read the confusion and shock on his features. He shakes his head and cups yours against his chest, wordlessly signaling Jungkook to keep quiet.

“Is there anything I can do? Do you wanna talk about it?” Namjoon asks, hoping you don’t see the man behind you slowly backing away like he’s just approached a rabid animal.

You’re sobbing. Why are you sobbing? What happened? Was it what he said before you unmatched? Jungkook tiptoes back into the kitchen without a word. He leans against the counter and shoves his hands in his coat pockets, trying to piece everything together. Did he cause this?

You screw your eyes shut to try to keep the tears inside. It’s no use. They always seem to find a way out. “He didn’t show up and when I texted him, he… he said he forgot."

“What?"

“I thought it would be good after the arcade date, you know? Like, good chemistry. He’s weird. I like him! He seemed interested and we made these plans and he just—” you choke out another loud sob. “God. Am I really so fucking forgettable?”

You wanted your friends to be wrong so badly that you ignored the fact that it’s been like pulling teeth trying to get Jason to meet up again. For him to forget completely is like a kick to the face that leaves all the teeth intact, maybe a little bloody, but stubbornly intact.

“Y/N, no. It’s not your fault. You deserve better than this fucking guy.”

Jungkook swallows hard. This definitely doesn’t feel like a conversation he should be hearing, but it’s loud enough to carry through the entire apartment. Kitchen, bedroom, or bathroom: his options are limited, but he knows there’s nowhere to go to pretend like he can’t hear it. It’s not like he can just walk out the front door now.

“Do I? It’s seems like a fucking pattern, Joon. I fall for people so easily and they always make me feel like an idiot for trying. Donghyun. Seojun. Jason. Jungkook… It doesn’t matter. No one fucking wants me.”

Jungkook tenses. He may not know all the names on your list, but his is among them all the same. Has he really hurt you so much?

“Hey… Don’t think like that,” Namjoon says, his voice soft as he rubs your back. “You know your worth, and it’s not measured by how well someone else can see it.”

Every time you think you’re done crying, fresh tears begin to roll down your cheeks. “I’m tired, Joonie.”

“I know. I’m sorry. We'll get you home."

As you step back to look at him your ankle rolls, and you begin to fall. Hearing the scuffle, Jungkook winces and peeks around the corner. Namjoon has a good enough grip to stop you from fully tumbling to the floor, but you’re definitely not stable by any means.

Although you now face Jungkook, you’re too distracted by your ankle to notice the extra pair of eyes on you. He allows himself to stupidly linger within your line of sight, raking his gaze across your form to take in the details of your attire, right down to your choice of earrings. Even with a red nose and puffy, smudged eyes, the time you’ve spent on your appearance remains evident.

You did all that for some guy who didn’t even show? If that’s how you dress for your dates then his innocent perception of you is completely wrong. What kind of moron would pass up the opportunity to peel you out of that dress and dive into your cunt? You look incredible. What the fuck.

"God. Shit. Fuck! Fucking stupid heels!” You huff out your exasperation and let a small pitiful laugh pass your lips as you right your stance with Namjoon’s help. “You know, I spent hours getting ready and now I just look stupid. I feel stupid.”

“You don’t. You’re not,” Namjoon insists, his palm squeezing your shoulder.

“Namjoon, I shaved my entire body. Do you know how long that took?”

Jungkook forces himself to withdraw into the kitchen. If you see him now you might murder him. He purses his lips into a thin line and tightens his grip around his arms. In an instant he imagines hiking your dress above your hips and parting your legs so he might brush his cheek against the smooth expanse of your thigh all the way to your core. Are your panties as slutty as your dress? Are they cute? Lacy? Plain?

“Geeksquad…” Namjoon sighs loudly. “I really don’t need to know— Hold up. Wasn’t this the second date?”

“Are you slutshaming me?” The tired laugh that follows sounds more like you, but it still hurts his heart. “I’m stepping up my game.”

“Nah. You do you,” he says, a soft smile on his lips that’s obviously full of pity. “You want to stay and get some food? I think I have some sweats you can change into.”

Tires screech in Jungkook’s mind. Is he going to be trapped here for the night? Without dinner? What kind of karmic torture is the universe putting him through?

“No, I’m sorry,” you sniffle, wiping your face with the sleeves of your sweater. “Jennie wants me to come over but I—I didn’t think I could make it with having a full meltdown. You were on the way.”

“No need to apologize.” He pulls you into another tight hug. “Do you want me to walk you back to your car?”

“No, no it’s fine. I’m right in front. Thanks, Joonie.” Your phone begins to buzz in your hoodie pocket. You pull back and wave it at him, already on your way to the door. “It’s like she knew. I’ll talk to her on the way. Thank you for listening to me cry for the millionth time.”

“Always. Text me when you get there, okay?”

“Will do, mom,” you tease with a soft laugh.

“Zip up your hoodie.”

You grimace at him with narrowed eyes but heed his advice on your way out. You also pull your skirt down as far down your thighs as it will reach. Men are gross and you trust virtually none of them.

Jungkook waits until he hears the click of the lock on the door to breathe a loud sigh of relief. Namjoon rubs the back of his neck and stares at the door. He worries about you.

“Yikes. That Jason guy is a dick huh?”

Namjoon swivels on his heels and rounds on his friend. “Like you were so much better to her?”

Jungkook casts his gaze to the floor. “I didn’t stand her up.”

Even he knows that argument is flimsy.

“Guk.”

“It was always just a joke.”

“It’s not though. She really liked you, man. I asked you not to mess with her.”

Memories have warped Jungkook into a jaded man: untrusting although not uncaring. Guilt is the only thing churning in his stomach as he thinks of you. He never expected to genuinely hurt you. Somehow things twisted into a gnarled mess that never really felt like more than a playful game of tug-of-war. But these kinds of games only work when the people involved know that they’re playing. It’s shitty when one pulls another into the mud when they’ve never agreed to participate.

Faced with the reality of how you consider him now, it dawns on him that he’s dragged you into the mud face-first without even the slightest resistance. You’ve stood up and you’ve even yanked the rope in retaliation, but you never should’ve been in the mud in the first place. Regardless of his own emotional ineptitude, he knows you never deserved that humiliation. No one does. The weight of his actions sits heavy in his gut.

Still he tries to justify himself. “All I do now is make pass after pass and she’s the one who turns me down.”

“You said it earlier yourself,” Namjoon sneers, irritated by his friend’s immaturity. “It’s always a joke. You’re never serious and she knows it. Look, you don’t have to like her back. She’s my friend and so are you. Just don’t lead her on and stop with the mind games. Be honest with her. The least you can do is apologize for being a dick.”

“That’s— I feel like… I don’t know how.”

Jungkook can’t bring himself to tell him of your conversation earlier tonight. It just adds to the guilt piling on his conscience. Namjoon used his own words against him and the worst part is it makes sense. It’s so much easier when it’s a stranger at a bar or a random encounter at a club, but you’re neither of those things. He lumped you into that category all the same.

Namjoon clicks his tongue and puts an arm around Jungkook’s back. “Starting with ‘I’m sorry’ can go a long way. She’s a good person and I know you guys can get along. Things were going well until you made that bet, right?”

Jungkook opens his mouth to speak and then closes it. “Mmm.”

“Not every girl is a Jiseo, Jungkook.”

“Yeah.”

“I think…” Namjoon sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t know. Can you try to just... tone it down? Maybe try to patch things up?”

“Okay.” Jungkook’s brow furrows and he chews his lip as he mulls over Namjoon’s words. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out his keys. “You ready?”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Your head dips forward as your fingers glide across the keys. It's hard to concentrate on your task when you're this distracted by your own thoughts. You stare at the monitor with furrowed brows. Namjoon grabs the back of your chair and leans forward to tower over you.

"Went that well, huh? Did he blow the second chance he didn’t deserve?"

The motion jerks you backwards and you grip the armrests of the chair to steady yourself. Despite your best attempt to curb the irritation in your expression, your frustration remains apparent. You sit back and tilt your head up to look at him, trying to think of something to say, some excuse to not reinforce the "told you so" waiting in your future, not after you showed up at his apartment sounding like a dying whale a few days before. When no ideas come to your immediate aid, you click your tongue and let out a heavy sigh as you turn your attention back to the screen.

"Geeksquad," he presses. "Talk to me."

You exhale through your nose and briefly purse your lips before obliging his plea. The words are quick and quiet so you don't run the risk of bawling your eyes out again. "He canceled.”

Namjoon steps back and the pressure on your seat is gone. He places a large palm on your shoulder. "I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"

Despite wanting to give the opposite answer, you shake your head. You don't trust yourself to speak, but you'd like to tell him. He's clever and you know he'll likely find a way to get it out of you with minimal effort anyway. Still, you don’t think you can manage the words without crying like a baby and you don’t want to do that when the morning has only just begun. Silence falls between the two of you as he gives you time to decide if you want to open up.

After a moment of tapping away you finally give in. You know you’ll feel better after you cry.

"He said he had to stay behind and help do clean-up for the party he was at. And that’s nice and all, but we had plans. I feel crazy. I should be glad that he’s so kind, right? Like that shows he’s a good person, right?” Your voice has cracked but it hasn’t quite broken.

He sighs and flops in the chair on the other side of his desk. “Y/N… I think you’re asking me for answers you already know.”

“But tell me anyway,” you press, tears welling in your eyes. “Our first date went so well. So why-y-” Your voice breaks.

“Hey.” He reaches across the desk and brushes his fingers against your arm. “I know you want me to help you make excuses for him... But you deserve someone who values your time. Clearly he’s just looking to waste it.”

“But—”

“Y/N, you don’t need someone like that. If this is what he’s like before you’re even together, then what kind of effort is he really going to put into a potential relationship? Not enough. There are so many people out there, people that would trip over themselves just to have the chance to be with you. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I think it’s a mistake that you even gave him another shot. He blew it. Twice. Delete his number. Forget him.”

“I know,” you croak. Tears fall from your eyes and you quickly swipe them away, focusing on the task at hand.

Namjoon is right and you know it, but you’re kind of irritated about it. You know it’s not really him you’re mad at, but Namjoon is a good enough placeholder while you try to sort through your hurt feelings.

You muster your most monotone voice as you stand. “I updated your drivers and deleted any cached files that might have been causing issues. Is that all?”

“Don’t be mad at me,” he pleads, rising to block your path as you step towards the door. “You have a big heart and I hate seeing it stepped on.”

In a matter of seconds you melt into his embrace and bury your face into his shirt. “I hate how fast I like people.”

“I know.” He pets the back of your head softly and squishes you against his chest. “It’s gonna be okay. How about udon later? My treat?”

“With beef?” you ask with a sniffle.

“With beef,” he agrees.

“Gyoza?”

“Mhm.”

“And takoyaki?”

“...You’re pushing it.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You slide the appetizer tray across the table towards Namjoon. “Here.”

He shovels a dumping into his mouth right before he speaks. “I could eat this every day for the rest of my life.”

“Could you afford it though?” you tease, taking a sip from the bottle of saké and crinkling your nose at it before passing it to him.

“Not if you’re joining me,” he snorts. “You’re supposed to pour it.”

“No, thanks.” You push the tiny glass full of liquid back towards him.

"Wow. Are you guys on a date?"

You know the source of the voice before you even crane your neck to see Jungkook.

"Pfft." Namjoon waves the question off with a deep laugh.

Despite finding the scenario of ever dating Namjoon absolutely absurd, you can’t help but feel a little insulted by the volume of his laughter. Namjoon’s hangout night was supposed to take your mind off of how unwanted Jason made you feel. Instead, the pit of insecurity within your stomach grows into a thick, tangled brush of hostility. Is being seen with you really so laughable?

“Why would we be?” you snap, turning your attention back to your bowl.

Heat settles in your face and you purse your lips, not daring to look at either of them. You try to wrangle some noodles to shovel in your mouth before you can say something stupid. Their eyes are on you. Jungkook is definitely confused but not alarmed by your hostility. It’s something he’s grown accustomed to. But Namjoon knows when he hurts your feelings, every time, and it’s easy enough to disarm your irritability.

“She’s way too good for a mess like me,” Namjoon says with a light laugh.

“Why are you here?” you ask, tone already softer than before.

"Post-work snackie," he answers, all too cheery for your sour mood. “Came for the noods. Mind if I join?”

He looks to the rosy-cheeked Namjoon for his answer, as you set your hoodie and purse down in the space beside you to give him yours. Namjoon betrays you by scooting over to make room on his side of the booth. You’d mentioned to him before that you’d eventually like to fix things with Jungkook, to somehow make steps for peace. But you only have so much mental energy left to give today.

“Not tonight, Jungkook,” you plead with a sigh.

The frustration in that puff of breath is enough to make Jungkook hesitate. He blinks a few times, wide-eyed. “What?”

“I just… can’t handle your bullshit tonight.”

Jungkook tries to break the uncomfortable tension with a grin. “No bullshit tonight. Promise.”

“No.” Your answer is firm and somehow so fragile that it makes both men worry their brows in the same fashion. “Please, just go away.”

He shoves his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and takes a few steps back. He doesn’t know what to make of your demeanor, but he can put enough together to know the basics. You’re upset, maybe not at him for once. However unlikely, that’d be a blessing. Maybe you’re still upset about that guy that stood you up a few days ago. If that’s the case, he probably shouldn’t stick around and risk letting on how much he knows about that.

He tongues the side of his cheek and nods, forcing a smile to his face. “Alright. I’ll just order it to go. Planned on that anyway. Catch you later.”

Guilt wracks your nerves as he walks away. The moment you look back at Namjoon, you’re faced with a wall of disappointment that threatens to topple the scale of decision-making in Jungkook’s favor.

“You’re judging me for that,” you mumble. The noodles between your chopsticks slip back into the broth.

“Little bit,” Namjoon admits, watching his friend sulk over to the entrance waitstaff. “You know he told me he’s trying to be nicer to you.”

“What? When?”

“The other day. We hung out.”

He keeps his answers short and ambiguous, hoping your curiosity has been piqued. Maybe this is the golden opportunity he’s been hoping for to patch your friendship.

“Was this before or after he harassed me on Tinder?”

Namjoon’s heart sinks into his butt. Of course Jungkook would make reconciliation harder than it needs to be. “When did he do that?”

“That night I showed up at your apartment like a big crybaby.”

“I went over his place for dinner after you left. Jin wanted to try a new recipe out on us.” That seems to at least make you pause.

“You guys talked about me?”

“Yup.” He goes back to chewing his food, knowing he’s got you hooked.

Your incredulous stare does nothing to pull information past his lips. “Joonie. What did you say about me? What did he say?”

“Mmm?” He slurps up a long noodle. “A lot of things. But they’re not really my words to tell.”

“No one likes clickbait, Joon.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that he told me that he wants to fix things. If you want specifics, maybe we can invite him to come eat with us. It might be easier for the both of you to talk about it over good food.”

You sigh, seriously considering his words even as you shake your head. “Joon, I’m already emotionally compromised. I really don’t want to cry in front of Jungkook tonight.”

“Why would you cry? This is a night for good things only. Namjoon-approved and protected. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to... I just thought it might be nice to make some good memories with good friends.”

You roll your eyes but hold your pinky out for him. “Fine. But this is Joonie-Y/N time. You’re cutting into that allotted time slot, you know that right?”

Namjoon rests his elbow on the table, preparing to pinky swear to whatever you’re about to suggest. “Conditions?”

“He sits next to you, he doesn’t make fun of me if I cry, and…. he doesn’t get to talk.”

“Y/N.”

“Fiiiiine. He can talk. But he better be as nice as you say he’s trying to be.”

“We allowed to talk about Jason?”

“If it comes up…” you sigh. “You know, if he’s mean to me and I cry then you have to deal with it.”

He clasps his long pinky around yours. “Deal. But with how all that just went down, you gotta go tell him to come back. He won’t believe me if I do it.”

“Don’t let him be mean to me,” you plead, tightening your grip on his pinky and locking eyes with him. “Good vibes only.”

“He won’t be mean. Good vibes only.” Namjoon nods with a soft smile. “He really is a good person where it counts, Y/N.”

You push your things aside and force yourself to find Jungkook. He’s leaning against a wall near the entrance, scrolling through his phone while he waits for his order. You quietly request to your waitress that you’d like his food brought to your table. She’s nice enough about it, but your stomach churns regardless. It’s the anxiety.

You gingerly poke a finger against his shoulder as you approach. “Um. Hey.”

He seems startled at first, but smiles when he realizes it’s you. “Hmm?”

You take a deep quiet inhale, trying your best not to get lost in the butterflies his charming smile conjures in your gut. You try to tell yourself it’s anxiety and nothing more. Apologies are hard and scary. That’s all.

“I’m… sorry for being rude. I’ve had a rough week but I shouldn’t take it out on you. Come eat with us, please. Namjoon’s buying anyway.”

His eyes seem to light up with surprise and a warm smile deepens the creases around his eyes and mouth. The hope that these feelings of attraction would evaporate with time is a flame swiftly snuffed out and replaced with a burning heartache that deems denial useless. Even now, pangs of infatuation lurk below your feelings of disdain, breaking the tension of its surface with each beat of your heart.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you. “I shouldn’t have invited myself when I saw you guys. I should really get home and shower anyway.”

He looks so clean that you’d assumed he’d already showered. It’s not like you can smell him from where you stand. Maybe he’s lying, but at least you get the sense it’s coming from a place of politeness.

“Jungkook, I want you to come eat with us. Besides Namjoon wants someone to drink saké with him and I cannot keep doing it.”

“I see.” He offers a small laugh and rubs the back of his neck. “Are you sure? You seemed pretty against it before. What changed?”

“Namjoon told me you’re trying to be less of an asshole to me.”

“Did he?” he licks his lips and tries to hide his pleased smile. “I’m surprised you believe him.”

“He also promised me I could punch you in the dick if you make me cry,” you lie, completely stone-faced.

If he knows that’s a falsified statement, he doesn’t say anything. He looks past your shoulder to quirk a brow at Namjoon, who appears to be furiously texting at the table. Jungkook’s phone buzzes a few times against his palm and he’s fairly sure he already knows who it is.

“Come on. I already asked them to bring your food to the table.”

He reads Namjoon’s messages as he trails behind you.

NAMJOON: If you seriously want to apologize stick around, make her laugh, just listen when you need to

JUNGKOOK: Don’t worry

JUNGKOOK: I got u

Before Namjoon can send a text saying that Jungkook's response has the opposite effect, you’re peeking across the table, trying to get a glance at the screen.

“Who’s that?” you wonder. Namjoon’s not usually one to be so secretive with his texts.

“Hmm?” he raises his eyebrows at you and pours you a shot. “Stupid. Don’t worry about it.”

“Ha. Haha. Ha.” You gesture at your face. “You say to the girl with anxiety.”

Crinkling your nose at the glass he offers, you slide it across to Jungkook as he settles in next to Namjoon. “Here. I’m done drinking that stuff tonight.”

He regards it with a quirked brow. Something about your demeanor really has changed, but looking between you and Namjoon does nothing to answer the question of what that may be.

“Okay, so on reddit this guy was reaching. He’s going on about the symbolism in the red scarf—”

Your eyes gloss over the moment he mentions reddit. Is there anything you care less about than Joon’s favorite modern literary discussion threads?

“Got it. Not worrying about it,” you interrupt, bringing your bowl to your lips to slurp some of the broth.

Jungkook hides his smirk by throwing his head back to drink his shot. Namjoon is a genius. It might be scary if he ever decided to use his intellect for nefarious purposes. Lucky for the universe he uses it to protect others, like a real superhero would.

As the three of you dine together, you’re surprised to find that Jungkook isn’t being as annoying as he usually is. In fact, it seems the more he drinks outside of any competitive setting, the more affable he becomes. Maybe there’s something to Namjoon’s clickbaity words. He’s almost the person you remember meeting before the Halloween Party, maybe even more pleasant.

You’re grateful when the two of them start telling embarrassing stories so you can listen and laugh at the way they slur their words and interrupt each other. Laughter makes your heart feel light and full, and brave enough to take the last step to prove to yourself you’re done chasing Jason. As the two men fight over the last piece of gyoza and distract themselves over dessert, you quietly decide to clear your text messages from Jason. Your finger hovers over the delete icon for a second before purging his contact information from your device entirely.

It’s freeing to not have to worry about what you should send him. It’s frustrating to have tried so hard for so long and have nothing to show for it, but at least there will be no conversation history to pick apart anymore. It should feel perfect. That will definitely show him, right? You don’t have to reflect for more than a couple seconds to reinforce the memory of how little he actually reached out on his own.

He still has your number. The only time he ever called was on your first date. He never texted you unless you spoke first. He probably won’t even notice you’re gone. He’s probably relieved he won’t have to answer you anymore. He probably thinks you’re desperate for trying for so long. You don’t realize how well you wear your anxiety.

When you look up Jungkook is watching you while he chews with his mouth wide open. “Hey, why do-” He hiccups and swallows. “Why do you look so sad? You should have some ice cream.”

He scans the table for something to offer you, but he can’t seem to find what he’s looking for in his drunken stupor. After a few seconds his eyes finally land on his own plate where the other half of his red-bean cake sits.

“Do you want my taiyaki?” He holds the tail end of the fish-shaped cake out to you. “It’s really good!”

You can’t help but laugh at the unexpected sweet absurdity of the night. “Jungkook, I don’t want your half-eaten cake.”

He frowns and looks at the pastry. “Is it because I bit it? I’ll break off that part for you if you don’t want your mouth to touch that.”

Although Jungkook definitely is more drunk than Namjoon right now, the older man can’t help but be amazed by how well this is going. He loads up on green tea ice cream and digs his spoon in it. He shouldn’t have been so worried. Jungkook can put away the act when he wants to, especially once alcohol is involved and there’s nothing to prove. You guys are actually getting along. What a relief.

“No, really it’s okay.” You laugh.

Jungkook is already breaking the pastry apart in his hand, watching as it crumbles to pieces on his plate. He blinks a couple times and closes his mouth in a frown.

“I thought that would work.” He sounds utterly defeated.

The waitress walks over just in time to watch Namjoon stick a heaping spoonful of wasabi in his mouth. You're too busy laughing at Jungkook's forlorn expression to notice the way Namjoon's eyes water. His eyes drop to the ice cream he thought he shoveled into his mouth. Right next to the pristine, untouched scoop of green tea ice cream, he finds his spoon resting in the hunk of wasabi adjacent to it. He should really pay attention more. He pushes against Jungkook's side and motions that he needs to get up. The younger man spares a glance his way but Namjoon waves him off while mumbling something about the bathroom.

The waitress tries to keep her composure and looks between the pair of you. "How is everything?"

"Great! Could you please bring us some water?" you ask in your sweetest voice, realizing the two men with you should at least try to start sobering up.

You expected to have Namjoon crashing on your couch on a Friday night, or at least be dropping him off down the hall at Hobi’s place. Jungkook was not part of the plan, but you can’t exactly let him drive home inebriated. You know he’s not your responsibility but you’d feel guilty making him call for a ride home when you’re perfectly capable.

Although you hate to admit it, you’ve had fun tonight. If you’re being honest with yourself you’d like to see what he’s like without Namjoon nearby to police his moves. He’s been nice enough, but you want to know for sure this isn’t an act. You want to ask him if he’s made another bet, or playing some game since he hasn’t hit on you all night. Before you can get your line of questions in order, Jungkook turns to the server with large, pleading eyes.

"Oh! Can you bring some more dessert, please?"

He may be a grown ass man capable of charming the pants off of women everywhere, but right now he is little more than a child begging for seconds. Regardless of everything he's done, your heart softens, endeared and embarrassed by his drunken request to your server.

The waitress nods. "Sure, what would you like?"

His eyes fall to you for an answer. "What do you like?"

You blink at him. "Me? I thought this was for you."

He nods. "Mm. We can split it."

"Um, how about... tempura?"

"Banana?"

Jungkook’s voice is full of anticipation and his upturned eyebrows seem to bargain for agreement. It’s so hard to believe this is the same man who has been so cold to you for so long when he seems so open and warm now. You remind yourself it’s probably the alcohol. It’s probably some secret promise to Namjoon. Some bet with Hobi. Some game he’s playing. It’s probably anything other than what your dumb crush-stupefied heart wants it to be.

The waitress looks to you for approval and you give a nod. "Sure. Banana tempura."

The waitress awkwardly smiles as she gathers the empty platters and gives you a chance to break away from his endearingly drunken face. He smiles across the table at you and wrings his hands while you pick up your phone to check on those nonexistent messages. Maybe if you distract yourself enough you can ignore the feelings that are catching up to you tonight.

“Thank you for inviting me back over,” he says, reaching to the nearly empty bottle of saké to pour himself another shot. “I’ve... been wanting to talk to you."

"I’m surprised you didn’t blow up my phone.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but there’s a harshness in your tone that exposes a venomous bite beneath it.

He downs the shot and plants his elbows on the table, leaning forward on them. "I wanted to say it to your face."

“Oh, really?”

You don’t allow yourself to entertain the idea that he’s about to say anything groundbreaking, but you look away from your phone to meet those dark, twinkling eyes. Suddenly there’s hope in your gut. You’re desperate to put some distance between the feelings jumping to the surface.

“I’ve been a dick.”

“No shit.”

Though the fog of alcohol consumes his apology, his eyes focus on you with clarity. “I’m sorry.”

How long have you waited to hear those words? You never really thought about what you might say in response. His apology sits in the air between you for a moment before he speaks again.

“I’m really sorry. Namjoon is right. I am trying to be less of an asshole to you. We don’t…” he catches himself, “I don’t have a lot of close friends who are women.”

“You don’t say.”

That seems to cut through the fog. He hangs his head and focuses his gaze on the table.

“I never wanted to hurt your feelings.”

“Well, you did,” you mumble.

“I know... I’m sorry.” It’s like now that he’s said it once, he can’t stop saying it. He’s not sure how to make you understand. Maybe you do understand and you just won’t forgive him. Can he really blame you for that?

“Why?” you question; it’s the last barrier protecting your heart, the only thing keeping you from caving. “Why do you care now?”

Jungkook’s head lolls to one side as he sits back against his seat and stares at the nearly empty bottle of saké. “I don’t know. I guess I was thinking… I wish I had a save to reload. Before I messed up.”

It seems that’s the best you’re going to get out of him right now. The waitress sets down a beautiful platter of banana tempura meticulously arranged around a simple mound of ice cream, topped with a single cherry and drizzled with decorative chocolate. She places three waters on the table and you both take a moment to politely force smiles and pause your conversation.

He licks his lips and stares down at the plate and then back up at you. “Can we start over?”

“Depends. Are you gonna go back to being a dick when you’re not drunk anymore?”

“No, no. I mean it. I wanna try to be friends.”

“For real?” You swipe the cherry, pop it in your mouth and tilt your head to regard him. You can’t let yourself fully believe him. You want to. The earnestness in his drunken features charms you, but you hold onto a shred of disbelief as a crutch. You’ll wait for the moment he reverts. Hopefully this time you’ll be prepared for the whiplash that comes along with it.

“For real.”

You reflect on his apology as the pair of you dig into the dessert. “Maybe. Prove it.”

He perks up. He’ll take a maybe. Maybe means the damage he’s done might not be irreparable. The guilt weighing on his conscience feels lighter. It’s a start.

“I will. I’ll find some way to make it up to you.”

You roll your eyes, unwilling to put stock in his words. “Is this another bet with Hobi? About how quickly you can make me forgive you?”

Jungkook shakes his head furiously, wisps of wild black hair whipping his cheeks. “No, I mean it. I promise.”

You drag your lip through your teeth as you teeter on the line of acceptance. “What is a promise from a liar worth?”

He drops the flat of his palm to the table and he pouts. “Hey. I mean it…. Hm. If I break my promise…” His eyes scan the table for anything he can use to change your mind. He looks at his arm pressed against the table and then back at you. “You can choose my next tattoo.”

Your eyebrows rise into your hairline. “Really.”

He eagerly nods. “I’ll get whatever you want wherever you want. Just. Not my face.”

“I want that in writing,” you snort.

Jungkook glances around the table and pulls a napkin from under the plate of tempura. “Do you have a pen?”

“Jungkook, you don’t have to—”

“I’m serious.” He’s not taking no for an answer.

You shake your head and rummage through your purse to supply him with a pen. He smooths out the napkin he’s chosen to use as a conduit for his promise. When he’s finished writing he slides it towards you.

Princess

I’m sorry. I can make it right.

I promise. Please give me another chance.

If I blow it you can choose what & where my next tattoo goes.

As long as it’s not my face. Let’s be friends? #promise.com ♡ Jungkook

Of course he signed it with a heart. Despite his inebriation, his handwriting is still neat. Well, that’s one hell of a promise.

“Okay.” You fold the note and drop it into your purse. “We can try.”

His face lights up as he stuffs a piece of tempura into his mouth, happily chomping with his mouth wide open. He reaches for the saké but you slide a water in front of him instead.

“Friends don’t let friends get totally shitfaced at Hajime.”

He frowns at you but seems to accept your answer with a pout.

“Speaking of which… Where is Namjoon?” You crane your neck to look around the restaurant.

“Friday noodle nights common for you guys?” Jungkook asks, digging into the dessert between massive gulps of water.

“No, not really. We’re usually watching movies at my place or hanging with Hobi. But Namjoon wanted to take me out because I was sad,” you say, finally catching sight of your friend on the other side of the bar.

Jungkook’s chewing slows and he regards you with furrowed brows. “Sad?”

Before you can decide how you want to answer, Namjoon is scooting into the booth next to Jungkook and reaching for a piece of tempura. “Mmmm. What did I miss?”

“Y/N was telling me why she’s sad.”

Namjoon nods like he understands exactly what you’ve been talking about. “He’s a dick, right? Like how do you even stand someone up, not once, but twice? Makes no sense.”

“Joonie—”

“And I know what you’re gonna say, but I disagree. It has nothing to do with you or how you look, Y/N. You don’t need to workout like a maniac to try to change anything. Especially not for someone like Jason. I can’t even imagine—”

“Joon.” You click your tongue and slide a glass of water in front of him. “Please, shut the fuck up.”

As you glare at him, he looks at you with raised brows and wide eyes. Unsure what to do now that he’s obviously fubared the conversation, he casts his guilty gaze to his cup and brings it to his lips.

Jungkook stares at you with furrowed brows, trying to wait to let you fill in the blanks even though he’s itching to ask about everything. He picks another piece of tempura and stuffs it into his mouth, but when you remain silent the impulse to pry takes over. “Jason?”

“He stood me up…” you start, but you close your mouth when you realize you’re going to try to defend him. Your throat feels full, like you can’t get enough air through with a giant knot in it like this. You have to whisper so your voice doesn’t crack. “Twice.”

The couple drinking at the table nearby becomes a much more interesting place to rest your eyes than the two men across from you. Tightening your jaw doesn’t prevent the gloss from coating your eyes. Thinking about it makes you feel so stupid and desperate. Bending over backwards a thousand different ways to accommodate him couldn’t convince him to put in even a minimal amount of effort one time.

Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up in genuine surprise. “Twice?”

The hurt you feel in your chest scorches your cheeks until anger is filling your head like a teakettle ready to release an unhealthy amount of steam right in Jungkook’s face.

“That’s what I get for giving people second chances,” you snap as you focus back on him.

Joon says your name like it’s a warning but you don’t need it. You feel guilty enough for projecting your anger onto Jungkook with a petty one-liner.

“Sorry. It’s not your fault. I just…” Your throat closes around the rest of the words.

Before an uncomfortable silence can settle over the table, Namjoon inches the bottle of saké with his fingertips until it’s in front of him. “Dating is tricky. Jason sucks. It sucks that he hurt you. But you don’t have to twist yourself into whatever you think he wants anymore. And that…” He pours the pitiful remainder of alcohol into a shot glass and slides it towards you.“...is worth celebrating.”

Jungkook silently nods his head in agreement. It’s obvious you’re on the verge of tears and he doesn’t want to be the thing that pushes you over the edge.

A soft smile curls the corners of your mouth. “That’s true, but…” you slide the glass back towards him and steal the last of the banana tempura. “I can celebrate back at my apartment. Finish your water so you’ll be awake enough to join me. Both of you.”

Jungkook perks up and happily reaches for his water while Namjoon gives you a proud, yet confused look. It seems like a new start to something. What that is remains to be seen.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook watches intently as the colors of the city shine through the windows. He runs his fingers over the soft blanket you keep in the backseat, mouthing the words to the song softly playing from your dashboard. Namjoon has been talking nonstop from the passenger seat, which is fine with Jungkook since he’s feeling a little tired. The last session of the day was a bit more intense than intended, but the client left happy and covered in sweat. A success. But Jungkook is sore and exhausted. Physically and socially.

A sense of relief floods him at the memory of his conversation with you. Things may actually be okay from here. Who would have thought crashing your noodle night with Namjoon could have yielded such results?

His head bobs to the music as his eyes wander across the scenery outside until he grows bored and they drift to the interior of your car. A graduation tassel swings from your rearview mirror as you turn. He follows the movement of the tassel when it swings towards you and his eyes land on your face, or at least what he can see of it from this angle.

You look focused and calm while conversing with Namjoon but your posture is a bit rigid and your hands remain planted on the steering wheel in complete control. There’s something about this candid snapshot of your persona that puts him at ease. Your voice is a soft contrast to Namjoon’s, but equally enthusiastic.

He tilts his head as he leans back in his seat, pulling the blanket over his lap and twisting the fabric around his palm. Your eyes flicker in the rearview mirror, catching his. He gives a tiny wave and rests his head against the cushion, fighting the temptation to close his eyelids for longer than a second. The more he listens to you laugh, the more he finds himself smiling. It’s goofy.

It’s also kind of cute.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook is surprised when Yoongi answers your knock; he thought he would be asleep. He’s even more surprised when you make yourself at home on his couch and guilt him with a puppy dog pout to make you a drink, and he complies. When Jungkook asks the same, Yoongi tells him there’s beer in the fridge while measuring out the ingredients for your cocktail. The suspicious sour ache of jealousy stabs his gut as he moseys to the fridge but he quickly shakes it off, settling on the floor in front of the tv with a beer in hand.

After a couple hours of drinking, laughing, and playing Jackbox games with the three men, you’re feeling much better about everything. Life is good. Friends are good. Alcohol is very good.

It doesn’t take much to get you drunk. You’re about as much of a lightweight as Hobi and for better or worse everyone has come to know that fact. What’s nice about drinking in Yoongi’s apartment is that you don’t have to walk very far to get home. Things don’t get awkward with the three of them together; it’s actually kind of nice, like a mini Saturday night pregame.

Soon Namjoon and Yoongi are snoring on the couch with a movie playing in the background while you stand in the kitchen with Jungkook. He pours another drink for himself, though he knows it will mostly likely remain unfinished. Tomorrow may bring a massive hangover, but tonight has been surprisingly pleasant. He feels like he’s finally on okay footing with you, maybe even on the road to serious repair. Amazing how well you get along when inhibitions are replaced by inebriation. If that’s what it takes, he’s determined to keep it up.

As he turns his back to place the liquor bottle in the cabinet by the fridge, you swipe a sip of the drink he’s concocted. He spins around in time to see you wrinkle your nose and stick your tongue out.

“Hey, that’s mine!” he pouts.

“Blegh. You can have it. Yuck!” Your face screws up again at the aftertaste.

He drunkenly giggles as he slides the drink closer to him. “What, don’t like sour?”

“Too sour!” You reach for the water bottle Yoongi gave you hours ago and attempt to rinse the puckering sensation from your mouth.

Amused, he tilts his head and watches you take gulp after gulp. He purses his lips and holds back the comment itching to escape, deciding to enjoy a sip of his drink instead. You shimmy out of your hoodie and tie it around your waist and his eyes lazily follow the motion of your arms, noting a slight difference in their musculature. Some errant thought about their shape leads him back to an earlier unaddressed comment that he’s finally comfortable enough to prod you about.

“What kind of workouts are you doing?” he blurts.

Suddenly you feel very exposed. You straighten in your seat and suck in your gut, hyper aware of every imperfection of your body on display to someone so in shape. You immediately begin to fidget with the sleeves of the hoodie you just tied around your waist.

“You don’t have to tell me. I just—” he pauses, exhaling a small breath and looking down at his drink as though he’s wary of continuing the thought.

“No, no it’s fine,” you assure him, too curious to say otherwise. “What is it?”

“When Namjoon said…” he sighs and takes a sip, smacking his lips and licking them before looking back to you. “I thought maybe I can prove myself to you by helping you come up with a plan.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You plant an elbow on the counter and lean on it.

“I want to,” he insists, reaching out for your arm.

His hand is like fire engulfing your skin and your eyelids flutter at the sensation. Instinctively you place a hand over his and rub your thumb anxiously over it. He looks down to where your thumb grazes his knuckles and then back up to your face with a surprised smile.

“Um… Everything,” you say, trying to sound as vague and nonchalant as possible so he doesn’t judge you for your lack of knowledge.

“Like, full body?”

“Uh...” You’ve managed to make a habit of going to his gym a few days a week while successfully avoiding him, but it seems that time is coming to an end. “I… machine.”

“Oh. Like at a gym? Did you join one?” He seems genuinely curious.

“Um, yeah.” Suddenly you pull your hand back when you realize the speed at which your thumb is moving.

“Which one?”

The more you say, the more suspicious you seem, but is saying less any better? Jungkook rests his elbow on the counter and simply looks at you but you don’t look back. A slow smile spreads his lips as the possibility dawns on him.

“Princess… Did you join Iron Kingdom?”

You puff your cheeks and force the air through the tiny opening of your mouth. You don’t offer any sort of confirmation and continue to avoid his gaze.

“And you didn’t tell me?” he playfully prods, drumming his fingers against your forearm.

“I… Yeah,” you admit, your voice small as you stare at the counter. “I didn’t want you to know.

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because?”

“I don’t want to give you another thing to make fun of me for.”

“I’m not gonna make fun of you.” When you don’t respond he tugs on your arm. The motion is enough to angle you towards him. “Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey.”

“What?” you grumble, staring at your lap even as you face him.

He takes your hands in his and drunkenly waves them around. “Heeeeeeeey. Look at me.”

He pouts until you reluctantly drag your eyes to meet his. “What?”

“Everyone starts somewhere,” he says softly. “Even me.”

The shift in his demeanor catches you off guard and you subconsciously lean forward as you relax. “Well I started with Hwasa, but I was too sore to ask for another session with her.”

He nods sympathetically, clapping his hand over yours. “You should try again.”

You shake your head. “I don’t know. I feel like…”

“Like?” he prods when you let the silence trail for a bit too long.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you sigh. “I feel like I don’t belong there. I look so stupid reading the instructions on the machines. I don’t even think I’m doing it right.”

“What?” He makes a sound between a laugh and a grunt. “There’s nothing wrong with making sure you don’t hurt yourself. Nobody knows how to instantly do things. If they tell you they do, they’re lying.”

“Or they’re Namjoon,” you say with a roll of your eyes, glancing over at your snoring friend.

He smiles and clicks his tongue against his teeth in thought. “I didn’t know what I was doing when I started.”

“Really.”

You’re skeptical. It’s always seemed like he was born in a gym. Or maybe hatched. He’s kind of inhumanly gorgeous. Maybe he sprouted from a flower like a mythical god.

“For real. First time doing squats. I think it was gym class? Yeah, I was like twelve or thirteen. I was… not very athletic. Didn’t play sports or anything. Kind of shy. Didn’t really have a lot of friends either…”

The way he trails off makes your heart hurt. Puberty isn’t nice to most people. It’s hard to imagine a world where someone like Jungkook isn’t instantly popular and naturally fit. While you’re not exactly the same person you were at twelve, a lot of your interests and personality quirks have remained the same. You’re still painfully awkward at times. How did he manage to overcome something like that? Is it not ingrained in him like it is you?

“Just a big dork, you know?” He laughs. “I see this girl I had a crush on, Amber. She’s looking at me. I think I have to impress her. So I’m stacking up weight and I think I’m hot shit and go too fast. Know what happened?”

“Please don’t tell me you dropped it on your foot or something,” you plead, squeezing his palms at the way he’s building up the story. The secondhand embarrassment is too real.

“I hear a pop.”

“No!” you gasp, bringing your hands to your face as if you can stop the past from happening.

“And pain. So much pain. I don’t remember putting the weights down but I remember ending up on my back, staring up at the ceiling.”

“Oh no. Knees?”

“Worse.” He points down to his crotch. “Pulled a muscle in my groin. Had to sit the rest of the day with an ice pack on my junk. Was not fun. My point is: don’t give up. You learn more as you go. Give Hwasa another shot.”

His anecdote gives you pause but you’re desperate to cling to the comfort of your anxiety. “My free trial with her is almost up and I don’t think I’ll be able to afford to keep at it.”

“More excuses,” he teases, taking a sip of his drink. “At this point I should just—” His eyes widen, a lightbulb practically forming above his head as he puts his cup down. “I’ll be your personal trainer!”

“Uhh…”

“No, no. It’s perfect. We’re friends now.” He smiles, proud of himself for finding a way to prove himself to you. “I can teach you everything you need to know about working out. I can set up a plan for you and figure out the best way to help you achieve your goals. Oh, man we’re gonna have to figure out your goals. What do you—”

“Hold on. Hold on,” you interrupt with a nervous laugh. “You’re missing the part where I still can’t afford it.”

He rolls his eyes and grabs your glass, holding it under the sink to refill it. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll cover it.”

You’re stunned into silence as you observe the expanse of his back, searching the black fabric of his t-shirt for the definition of his muscles. He sets the cup in front of you, waiting for your agreement. When it doesn’t come, he second guesses himself. Did he overstep?

“I mean if you’re okay with that. Would-would you want to do that?”

The innocent drunken sparkle in his eyes makes your stomach do a flip. When you woke up this morning you hardly thought the day would include getting sloshed with Jungkook and having him offer to take you on as a fitness trainee. It’s like he’s opened himself up just enough for you to see the soft mess beneath. You like it. You like it a lot and you kind of hate yourself for it. While you don’t know if you can trust him past the evening, you find yourself hoping you can.

“You won’t make fun of me?” you ask timidly before bringing the cup of water to your lips.

“It’s my job not to make fun of you. We start where you’re at and go from there. And like I said, I’ll cover the fees for as long as you want. No pressure.” He smiles at you. “What do you think?”

“...Okay,” you murmur with a nod of your head. “If you’re serious, then I’m… I’m in!”

His lips part to expose his teeth as his grin spreads. “Yes!”

As he brings his hand up in a sign of victory, his knuckles knock against his glass. You reach for the cup with impaired reflexes, hands fumbling over the slippery surface in conjunction with his. The sour contents spill across the counter as the pair of you struggle to right the glass. While he’s quicker at getting the glass upright, your brain is faster at processing what to do next and you already have a paper towel in hand, wiping up the liquid as fast as possible.

Your eyes follow the spill to the edge of the counter where it’s flooded over the side. Acting on instinct rather than rational thought, you quickly press down where the liquid has begun to pool in his lap. As you fold the paper towel over, you rub frantically as if the action will keep the stain from setting into the fabric. He shifts in his seat and squeaks out a sound so small that you can’t actually tell whether it came from him or the chair.

It only dawns on you how inappropriate your actions are when you glance towards his face and find his wide eyes gazing back at you. His cheeks, already flushed from inebriation, seem twice as vivid and his mouth is parted slightly as though he means to speak, but he doesn’t. Maybe he doesn’t want to embarrass you, but it’s too late for that.

Your palm stills against his crotch as the shape beneath becomes clear in your mind. For a second you’re frozen, but your lips work quickly to mumble an apology. It feels like an eternity before you will your drunken fingers to release the paper towel. The clearing of Jungkook’s throat is followed by a tiny giggle, then a full on snort. A grin spreads across your lips and you soon follow him into a fit of laughter. You thank the universe for the small mercy of being drunk enough to push your embarrassment to the side for the time being.

“I wasn’t thinking!” you wheeze, tears in your eyes from laughing so hard. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’ll dry.” He laughs, dabbing his pants and shirt in the absence of your hand. As he stands he pulls the hem of his shirt away from his torso and looks down at it. “Really. It’s my fault I’m so…”

“Sticky?” You quirk an eyebrow at him, a blatant flirtatious action thinly disguised as a joke as you eye the blot of liquor staining the lower half of his shirt.

Both of his eyebrows raise and a mischievous smile curls the corner of his lips. “...Wet.”

You consider his answer with a pleased hum and turn back to the counter to polish off the last of your water. You’re friends now, right? It can’t be that easy. But it kind of is. So what’s wrong with a little harmless flirting between friends?

Drunk brain, who happens to be a notorious hoe, assures you it’s great. Rational brain might disagree, but she’s taking a well-deserved nap. You’ve at least had a good night. You’re not sure it matters at this point who is giving you the attention you crave. It feels good. So good, in fact, you’re sure you can indulge drunk brain a little more.

You’re drawn to the inky shapes swirling around Jungkook’s bicep as he wipes the counter down. Every time your eyes begin to focus on an object marking his skin with some kind of meaning, he moves and you lose it. It’s brush strokes, isn’t it? You’ve definitely seen a paintbrush and mountains and a knife surrounded by roses. A swathe of grey and purple connects to each one you’ve seen, but you know there are more.

Before you can blurt that you’re dying to know how many he has and how bad it hurt to get them, he turns toward the sink and begins to work his t-shirt up his torso. You watch in awe as the toned muscles of his back are exposed. The image of the bright phoenix does little to hide their definition.

Trying to will yourself to look away is of no use; he’s hot and you’re drunk enough to acknowledge that fact. Of course he peeks at you just as the shirt slips over his head to find you open-mouthed and dazed, ogling him as though there isn’t any shame in the world that could pull your gaze from him. He turns to the fridge to give you a moment to compose yourself, nabbing a water bottle from the shelf in the process. You’re clearly not ready for the way he quickly spins on the balls of his feet to face you.

Y/N.exe has stopped working.

Your fingers hang in the air suspiciously until you lazily drop them. But Jungkook dons a toothy grin and has the audacity to look shy. He mockingly shields his chest from you with the shirt clutched in his hands.

“Princess! Are you… checking me out?”

Somehow you don’t let the fire in your face turn your brain to ash.“Pfft, no.”

“What’re you doing, then?” he teases with a laugh as he sits, scooting his chair closer to yours.

“Counting,” you reply simply, brow furrowed in concentration. To drive the point home, you poke at his flesh everywhere you can make out an object drawn into its surface.

“How many?” he wonders, watching with cloudy, amused eyes.

“Mmm…” You trail your finger down his arm and back up, following the curve of the brushstroke around his shoulder. “Can’t tell if this counts as one.”

He shrugs and rests his head on his palm as he leans against the counter. “What do you think?”

You hesitate when he quickly quirks a brow.

“I think… A lot.”

“Definitely accurate,” he says with a grin.

Awkward laughter steers the pair of you towards your waters. The TV in the background provides enough noise to steal your focus; you’re grateful for the distraction from the attractive man beside you. Drunk brain is telling you to touch him again, to grab his hand, to feel the touch of someone just for the night, to ruin every good thing this night has started to rebuild between you. Anything to stave off the emptiness of your bed, the 2AM thoughts of failure, and the drunken desperation to find someone, anyone, who will fall in love with whatever image you happen to project on your dating profile.

Heart pounding wildly in your chest and blood rushing through your ears, your fingertips tap against the countertop as they inch closer to where his arm rests. Luckily your futile attempts at nonchalance go unnoticed. Jungkook anxiously turns his water bottle over in his hands, trying to gather words in his brain before freeing them from his mouth.

“So…” he begins.

You jump at the sudden sound and retract your hand while he’s not paying you any mind.

“I was thinking. About that guy…”

You wish you could at least pretend you don’t know who he’s talking about. You’ve vented plenty tonight, but still your heart sinks. Deleting Jason’s digital footprint from your life was simple and quick, but the feelings of rejection and disappointment that swirl in the back of your mind spill forward the longer his pause continues.

“I know this probably means nothing coming from me. But I just— I know you liked him, but you can do better.“

Your posture stiffens at his reassurance and you find yourself grateful he’s not looking at you. Do you deserve better?

“You deserve better,” he affirms, as if somehow aware of your internal struggle.

“Thanks,” you murmur with a distinct lack of enthusiasm as you stare down your glass.

It's cry hours, isn’t it?

Realizing you don’t believe him, he takes a deep breath and nudges you with his elbow. “Hey.”

“What.” You refuse to look up because you know you’re on the verge of an irrational stream of tears over some guy you hardly knew. It’s stupid and you know it. But the wet warmth coating your eyes tells you it’s coming regardless.

“I’m... sorry that you don’t feel like you do. Some people can’t get over the weight of their own shit. But that doesn’t mean it’s on you to pick it up for them. If they can’t even bother to carry themselves to meet you halfway, then they’re not worth the effort.”

It’s a perfect time for your heart to seize up and it takes the opportunity to do so. The advice he offers doesn’t stave off the tears, but it resonates deep within you. Namjoon said something similar. It makes you ache to hear it again from someone else. It just leads you back to the same questions you keep asking yourself. What’s so wrong with you that people don’t even want to try? Is it your personality? Physicality? Is it a lack of confidence? What is it?

‘I can’t even get a shitty guy to like me. Maybe I’m the one not worth the effort.’ You don’t dare say those words out loud. Pity isn’t something you’re looking for. A warm body to fill your bed maybe, but not pity.

“Sounds easy when you say it like that,” you murmur, trying in vain to will the tears not to fall. You’re quick to swipe at them and force a smile. “I guess I have trouble giving up on people. It’s not that I’m naive. I try to be realistic. But no matter how many times I get fucked over I just... hope for the best in people. I can’t help it.”

He pats your arm reassuringly. “That’s why you deserve better.”

If only it was as simple as hearing those words and magically being able to believe it. A big chunk of your confidence has crumbled away and there’s no clear path to restoration. As the warmth of his palm comes to rest against your arm, you place your hand over his and squeeze.

“I don’t know if I believe it,” you pause and thoughtfully add, “but thanks for saying it.”

His eyebrows raise in surprise and he offers a tiny, “You’re welcome.”

A shaky chuckle passes your lips. All of his features seem to soften the more you look at them. Maybe it’s the drunken gloss coating his big brown eyes or the way his lips slightly part as he looks back at you. The tightly coiled nerves in your belly urge you to unravel.

Although it's a subtle gesture, he licks his lips as he smiles and it practically seals your fate. If you don't leave now you're bound to do something you'll regret.

"It's late. I should sleep."

Or masturbate.

The speed at which you launch yourself from the seat is unpleasant. You're not sure what's worse: the dizzying vertigo or waves nausea sloshing in your gut. Jungkook's reflexes may be delayed but he's a steady mass of muscle the moment you reach out to steady yourself.

"Whoa. You okay?"

"Maybe," you mumble, finding yourself drawn to the heat radiating from his skin. Instead of walking away, slump down to rest your cheek against his shoulder and sling an arm around him. You might be drunker than you thought. "I don't know."

"Hmm. What do you need, princess?"

"Just wanna stop spinning."

His stance shifts to better accommodate the additional weight you press against him.

"How about you take over Yoongi's bed tonight," he suggests softly. "He's passed out anyway."

"No, I should go home." You peel your cheek from the warmth of his skin.

“You gonna make it there?”

“Yes,” you say indignantly. The world may be a bit wobbly right now, but you’re certain you can handle the short stroll down the hall.

"Okay.” He smiles, loosening his hold. As you step back your foot catches on the leg of the chair and it drags loudly against the floor.

Despite Jungkook’s attempt to keep you standing by grabbing at your arms, he loses his balance and he drops to his knees. The chair clatters to the floor before your ass does. Luckily his grip keeps your back and head far from impact, but you’re too cramped to be comfortable.

“Are you okay?” he asks. Those big, dark doe eyes of his are frozen in fear and a frown adorns his face. He looks so serious it’s ridiculous.

You can’t help but laugh, wiggling backwards to make space between his body and the heat steadily building between your legs. “I’m fine. Stop making that face.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” He sits back on his feet and tilts his head to the side in confusion.

He breaks into a fit of giggles when you dramatically mimic his expression. You roll back onto your elbows, making another ridiculous face to further mock him.

“No, no. It’s more like…” Jungkook takes the opportunity to lean over you, reaching with one hand to squeeze your cheeks to pucker your lips. You blow a disjointed raspberry at him before pulling his hand off to the side.

While the clamor of the fallen chair did nothing to rouse the men on the couch, the sound of Jungkook’s hearty laughter is loud enough to disturb the rhythmic snores of Namjoon.

Jungkook sits back on his heels and peeks over the countertop. He seems miles away, even as you sit up and scoot in to bring yourself closer. Laughter fades into a quiet hum as Namjoon’s snoring resumes.

You're lost in the abyss of his gaze as he turns his head to look back at you. All that remains in your brain at this point is a foggy desire to tug on the silky spirals of his ebony hair until he presses himself against you one more time.

Your hand settles for following the curves of his bicep instead, wondering how it might feel to be wrapped within his embrace. Some might say liquor makes you bold and stupid, and they're right. They should say it. But it also makes you feel invincible, like a goddamn glowing Mario star power-up.

"Princess?"

Enraptured, his eyes follow the motion of your hand as it slithers around his arm and squeezes. Unable to ignore the prompt, he answers with a flex against your palm. His ego swells when you shiver and noticeably hold your breath.

You know it's a mistake. You know it goes against all of your sober judgement, but you find yourself doing it anyway. It doesn't matter that you still harbor a grudge that holds your heart hostage. Drunk hoe vibes are taking the wheel. You’re tired, drunk as hell, and just want to feel wanted. And he's here.

Every fiber of your inebriated being is singing in unison: Why the fuck not?

Heartbeat pounding against your eardrums, you attempt to gauge his reaction as you lean towards him. It's hard to tell from beneath half-lidded eyes, but you think he's leaning towards you too. If he isn't you suppose you can always play it off like you're just a mess. It's not far from the truth. Focusing on the tiny freckle below his lip, you allow yourself to finally close your eyes and go for it.

But the universe isn’t here for your dumb boozy bitch mistakes.

The front door swings open with the sound of jingling keys dropping to the floor. It snaps you back to reality and you freeze, realizing there's no defense that will save you. Jungkook is quick to disengage, poking his head above the counter to acknowledge Hoseok’s presence with a wave. But his friend is completely enamored with the company he’s ushering towards his bedroom.

“Yeah, baby? How bad?” Hoseok whispers to the giggling girl wrapped around his arm.

He pins the stranger against the door to drag his tongue across her neck. Their bodies move rhythmically in a slow grind, a precursor for what’s likely to come. Jungkook purses his lips. How long until one of them notices him watching? It’s not until the girl moans Hoseok’s name softly that Jungkook spares a panicked look towards you.

Oh shit.

You gesture for him to get down before he draws their attention. The last thing you want to explain is why you’re on your knees in Hoseok’s kitchen with a very shirtless Jungkook standing close by. He obliges your silent request, squatting down beside you.

“Feel how hard you made me?” Hobi chuckles quietly.

The girl giggles, her voice growing closer. “You gonna fuck me right here or what?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Naughty girl. What if my roommate wakes up? Looks like he has a friend over too. You really want them to see what a dirty slut you are?”

You can hear her giggle as he directs her where to go, failing to keep his voice down so you hear every filthy thing he says after. Your hands fly to cover your mouth. Is your skin made of lava? You want to blame it on the close proximity to Jungkook, but the only thing you can imagine is Hoseok’s dick and the eager mystery woman about to be impaled by it. Can you scrub your brain of this memory? How are you supposed to look at him after this?

Jungkook watches your face carefully, trying his hardest not to laugh. Your eyes look so big he’s pretty sure they could roll out of your skull any second. Are you really so innocent? The way you cover your mouth says you are, but maybe it’s just the shock. Maybe you’re just trying to not laugh. Or scream. Or breathe? It kind of looks like you might pass out.

Are you gonna make it, princess? he wonders.

Once you hear Hoseok's bedroom door close, you fuss your hands over your hair and scramble to your feet, releasing a big exhale. The hushed words fall from your lips while you scurry away like a timid mouse. "I should go."

Despite being too far to make contact, he reaches out as you round the counter. "Wait—"

As soon as the word leaves his mouth he struggles to come up with the rest of his statement. There’s no reason to keep you here, except to maybe laugh a little about what just happened to smooth over any second-hand embarrassment. So why doesn’t he want you to go?

He swallows down the blank space caught in his throat and searches every last crevice of his brain for something of import to say. Guilt weighs his gut down, though there isn’t a clear cause. He’s probably screwed something up again without realizing it.

“Thanks for giving me another shot,” he says softly.

You breathe a sigh of relief and offer a tiny smile as you half turn, your hand already on the door handle. “Don’t blow it.”

He nods with a smile. “I won’t. Goodnight.”

“‘Night,” you mumble.

As soon as the door is closed you practically sprint down the hall to lock yourself within your apartment. Maybe it will also lock out all the mistakes your brain has made tonight.

The world feels colder now that you’re not pressed against the human-shaped heater that is Jeon Jungkook. Thinking about him makes your heart swell and ache at the same time. Regardless of how badly you wish you'd asked him to bed, you know loneliness is fleeting and guilt would be a far worse feeling to be saddled with.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook picks up the fallen chair, finding your soft, worn hoodie draped over it. Rubbing a thumb over the material, he considers running it back to you, but he can't remember which door is yours. It's not like he's been here often enough to know. Instead he slips his arms through the sleeves before flipping the hood over his head.

He settles on the floor in the space he previously claimed for the night, pulling a blanket out from under Yoongi's ass. Yoongi rolls his head up, a scowl on his features though his eyes remain closed. He grumbles but lies down, facing the couch.

Jungkook regards his friend for a moment before deciding to drape the blanket over him instead of claiming it for himself. Jungkook rolls onto his side and fluffs the throw pillow under his head. As he watches the credits roll on the TV, he nuzzles into your sweater.

He closes his eyes, thinking of you. He knows he shouldn't linger on the little occurrences of the night, especially with how foggy his brain is. He can't trust anything about his memory.

Still he thinks of the way your fingers trailed along his arm and curled tightly around his bicep. He lets himself dwell on the tiny sound you made, the involuntary tremble of your body, and the subsequent hitch in your breath.

He smiles and inhales the subtle scent you've left behind. A new spark of adrenaline fans flames that inflate his ego, spreading warmth from his stomach up into his chest. The world may wobble around him right now, but the little magical warmth within his gut helps him comfortably drift off to dreamland like he's the world's most immovable object.

#smutcentralnet #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #bts fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #bts fluff #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic

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crowhyun · 2 years

Text

actually y’all i need to rant and i’m going to sound like a pathetic loser but i’ll wait until shame comes in so i can delete this later but rn it’s night time and it’s the right time

so like, idk abt yall, but during the late hours of the night, my emotions are heightened unlike during the day. Like if I’m happy, i’m all smiley and giggly and i’m never like that during the day. I’m a night person yeah. But i get sad easier at night. And tonight i am sad boohoo

what am i sad about? IM LONELY AS FUCK 😭

the thing is, i’ve been single my whole life. i’ve been told and convinced that i wasn’t beautiful or worthy of love, and no one has ever shown interest in me. Boys would bully me the most over my looks. And i’m not going to lie and say “but i was beautiful all along” bcs i wasnt. I was a lol scrawny nerd who wore glasses and the same hoodie everyday. I didn’t care abt my looks at all, but it’s a bit diff bcs i’ve grown up in places where there weren’t ppl like me. So in either predominantly white or asian schools. I was never beautiful to them.

but it’s not just that. I’m convinced there is something wrong with me, bcs when I see my sister, I see everything that i want to be. She’s feminine, pretty, confident, strong etc etc. Ever since she was little, she’s had everyone all over her and people would always compliment her and overlook me.

i remember when my grandpa straight up called me ugly and then said that my sisters were like “pretty princess” to my face. I’ve always hated him. This might sound morbid, but i’m glad he’s dead. He was never a good person anyways.

my sister used to make fun of me for my looks as well bcs i was never as pretty as her. Everyday, I nitpick at every little thing because of her. My shoulders are too wide, i’m not feminine enough, my skin is too dark, i look like a child etc etc etc like WHYYYYY can’t i stop????? ARGHHH

and WHY does it seem like everyone has had love in their lives but me???? no one has ever been interested in me, and i feel like i’m going to be alone forever. I keep trying to convince myself that someone would come along one day, but i continue to lose hope. I’m so scared to get close to people, and im not good at making conversation, i can’t even make friends, how do i expect to one day get married?

i have a skin condition that makes my skin rough and bumpy, and people have always commented about it, and i don’t even want people to get physically close to me bcs of it. i hate when people touch me, and im always so hyper aware of someone’s proximity.

like what happened to the little girl that loved hugs and holding hands? i hate that i’ve changed. i used to be so extroverted and happy and social, but i’ve gotten shut down and hurt so many times and now im a fkn recluse like ew i hate myself

sometimes i get the urge to drink myself drunk so i would stop thinking and so that i’d be free from shame and embarrassment and anxiety, but i don’t do that bcs 1. alcohol tastes disgusting and 2. i feel like if i give in, i’d develop an addiction.

i feel so sorry for all of the friends that i do have and for the future boyfriend that i may or may not have. i’m so insecure that it ruins everything. I think that no one rlly likes me and they’ll all leave me one day just like my friends have done in the past, just bcs i wasn’t pretty enough or cool enough.

#what i would give to just be a normal girl #with a normal life #i always thought that i’d be like the girls in the movies as a teen #but instead i’m like this lol #that fucking sucks

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writefightandflightclub · 4 years

Text

Tiptoe around this (Poe Dameron x reader)

Summary: Poe x short!reader. He CANNOT deal with your smolness.

Rating: TEEN

Author’s note: I’m doing soft blurbs this week bc you all deserve a hug from one of our fave fictional husbands. Let’s all destress and be comforted one blurb at a time, okay? (I’m doing these quickly so I can complete as many as I can for you, so they’ll be a bit scrappy, please forgive!) This one deleted itself and then I ahd to recreate it from nothing. The first version was better and probably had fewer typos but here we are. Ran out of time to check before dinner!

Warnings: short!reader; kissing (mildly steamy, no smut or implied smut).

GIF: @thestarwarsdaily LOOK HOW PRETTY

Poe’s dying. He swears he’s dying.

He’s doing his best to obscure this fact from Rey and Finn, however, so continues engaging in casual chat all the while as he hurtles towards his demise.

Poe’s dying, and, cause of death? Your cuteness.

Poe watches you surreptitiously from across the hangar. Watches as you realise someone has stolen your step ladders again, despite the fact you etched your kriffing name onto them in Aurebesh last time this happened. And so, to reach the tools you need -valiantly struggling on with your tasks anyway- you clamber up the face of the shelves and stretch to your full length as you attempt to grab down the box.

It appears you can’t quite reach them, even having climbed into a pretty precarious position.

The trouble is, you’re just too kriffing smol.

And it kills Poe. Every single time.

Of course, your height is only one of the reasons he likes you. He’s never even had a preference for his partner’s height before, to be honest. There’s just something about you. Something about how short you are which brings out his protective instincts. Makes him want to hold you and take care of you and spoil you. And Poe is already the type of guy to spoil his partner, so you can imagine how he feels about you.

Oh, and it certainly helps that you’re so kriffing gorgeous too. And funny. And nice. And did he mention SMOL?

Poe would never be patronising towards you because of your size, of course. He knows you’ve been underestimated plenty of times because of it - by both the enemy and allies- and without good reason! You might be cute to a lethal degree, but Poe is also well aware that you’re badass, capable, intelligent, and fierce. Small but mighty, you could say.

Still, when he sees you on your tippy toes trying to reach the box of parts, his heart melts and dribbles out of his feet. Or, at least, that’s what it feels like.

Death, by cuteness.

As you continue to persevere, Poe stops pretending to listen to Finn and Rey’s chatter altogether, a dopey smile settling on his face. He stands from the chair he’s straddling to zoom over to you, before some other handsome, height-endowed recruit can come to your assistance. He couldn’t have that, now, could he?

“Hey,” he says from behind you, a warm and gentle hand settling on your shoulder in greeting. “Can I help you?”

Poe hopes he can reach the damn shelf, because whilst he’s certainly taller than you are, he’s not exactly Chewy. Now, that would be embarrassing.

“Sure,” you say, even as you huff and puff, successfully grappling the box down to the floor without any further intervention. You recognise the Commander’s familiar, sandy voice before you even turn around, but when you do, you flash him a warm smile, and he could swear -if you killed him a moment ago- that smile has revived him back to life. “You can tell your damn recruits to stop stealing my ladders, Commander. I wouldn’t tolerate this behaviour from my squadron.”

You’re adorable, for sure, but there’s a fire in your eyes telling Poe you are not to be messed with. In fact, he’s sure that given half a chance you could raze the whole First Order to the ground, even if you did the whole thing on your tip toes.

Poe simply looks at you goofily, trying to remember how to speak, your eyes big as you gaze up at him from beneath your lashes. You’re basically a whole head shorter than him, if not more, and he can’t help but want to pull you into a hug, imagining how it would feel to enfold you against his chest and rest his chin on top of your head as his arms wound around you.

“Commander?” you ask again, clicking your fingers in front of his face. “I’m sick of doing everything on my tiptoes - I’m not a ballerina.”

Your gesture brings him back to the real world, and he notices the rolled-up sleeves of your flight suit as they hover in front of his face, his eyes dropping to the rolled-up cuffs of the legs resting on top of your boots. Standard-issue is too long for you and… yes, you’ve guessed it…

Kriffing adorable.

“Sure thing, Commander,” he finally says, still retaining that dopey, lovestruck expression on his face.

You nod to thank him, getting lost in his umber eyes somewhere along the way. He’s always entirely flustered when he speaks to you, and quite frankly, it’s so adorable that it makes your heart melt out of your feet. At least, that’s what it feels like.

You like Poe, and you think he likes you, but... both of you have been tiptoeing around this for far too long now.

“You know, there’s maybe one thing I like to do on my tiptoes,” you say with a knowing smirk as Poe looks helplessly between your eyes and lips, helplessly lost in yearning.

“What’s that?” he asks, and he can swear he intended the words to come out at a normal volume, despite the fact a mere whisper is all that emerges. Still, he’s happy as it causes you to lean in closer.

“Kissing,” you say with a gentle suggestion in your eyes, voice breathy and matching his hushed tones. You think it’s about time one of you makes a move, and it may as well be you.

Poe visibly gulps, and shuffles his feet a little closer to you.

Is this really happening?

He’s not sure how many times he can die and be reborn in one day, if he’s honest. The implication of your words and in your eyes encourages him though. Besides, he’s waited long enough for this moment, and now is as good a time as any, right?

“Kissing, huh? Well, honey, do you think you’d need to be on your tiptoes to kiss me?”

Your tongue darts out over your bottom lip, and an eagerness swells in your whole being, your body tingling with nerves and heat. Your mouths inch towards one another as if magnetised, your chin tipping up and his head stooping lower to greet you, as months of tension is compressed into the diminutive space between you.

“Guess we should find out,” you suggest with a sultry smirk, pausing a small distance from his lips, sharing the same air in the tight space between you.

Poe wraps his arms around your back, his hands feeling large and broad against you. You feel delicate encased in his strong arms, and you grab firmly at the holsters around his wide hips, tugging him close and bringing his body flush to yours. Poe feels warm and big and sturdy pressed against you. You’ve always been independent and capable, and yet there is something about Poe Dameron which makes you want to swoon for him, if only he would pledge to protect and care for you in all the ways your diminutive form might suggest you need him to.

Poe’s face inches closer and closer to yours, his lips pausing a hair’s breadth away from yours as your eyes fan shut, leaving you wanting. You swear your lips are tingling from the near-contact alone, crying out to brush with his.

“Oh oh,” he teases. “Can’t reach.”

You smile as you stand up on your tiptoes, closing the distance in an instant and crushing your lips to his, finding them soft, a hint of stubble grazing your cheek and he tips his head to the side. Upon contact, his tongue melds immediately with yours, deftly probing the cave of your mouth and melting you from within. Your hands slide up and up, coming to rest with your fingers laced around his neck, slipping into his hair.

As the kiss sparks and grows, Poe’s arms wrap firmly around your waist, and he bundles you up towards him, easily taking most of the weight of you, until your toes are entirely lifted off the floor as the kiss reaches its peak. You feel like you’re floating, in every sense.

Breathless and floored by that kiss, Poe sets you gently down, idiotic grins spreading across both of your faces as you stand there for a moment, still holding each other close. Poe looks down at you with adoration shining in his eyes, backlit with a gentle heat.

Feet back on the ground, more or less, you look self-consciously around as you both become suddenly aware of the hubbub created by the fact you both did that in the middle of the hangar.

Oops.

When your eyes look up at Poe again, he still has the softest, lovestruck smile on his pretty face.

“See you later?” he asks hopefully.

“Yeah. I hope so,” you respond, returning his smile, and you stand on your toes to plant a quick chaste kiss to his cheek, cupping his face in your hand. You could swear his skin darkens in embarrassment, and he turns from you with the most bashful and adorable expression you’ve seen on his face yet.

You’re dying, you think. You must be dying. Death by cuteness.

You ignore the commotion you’ve caused, for the most part, and you watch Finn accost Poe for gossip as he tracks across the hangar. You see Rey beelining for you too, the dumbest grin on her face, and you turn back to your work as you notice her approach, taking a much-needed moment to catch your breath.

You kissed him. Poe Dameron. Your long-time crush.

It was true, that the two of you have both spent far too long tiptoeing around this, but it seems that Poe has finally swept you off your feet. It’s safe to say that you’ve never been so glad in your life to be too short to reach a shelf. Funny then, that his kiss has you feeling ten feet tall.

What’s more, this the last day that anyone steals your stepladders. Poe sees to that. Ain’t no-one gonna mess with his precious, smol bean. At least, not if he has anything to do with it.

#poe dameron x reader #poe x reader #poe dameron fic #poe dameron fluff #poe dameron blurb #poe dameron imagine #short!reader #petite!reader #star wars x reader #star wars #star wars fic #oscar isaac

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rhenuvee · 4 years

Text

The Heart in You (Fred Weasley x reader)

A/N: Remember when I said I was going to be a turtle when using Tumblr bc I’m new? My dumbass couldn’t find the delete button- dEaDaSs cLoWnErY right here.

Summary: Both you and Fred are known to have a playful type of rivalry, and none of you two want to be the first to ‘be nice’ to the other. But one day he starts acting weird, and you start feeling bad.

Warnings: swearing :0

*I realized I’m an idiot for not doing this sooner so tell me if you’d like to be tagged in my future fics. I write for 3 fandoms so please specify which one!*

——————————

Yours and Fred’s rivalry was known to almost everyone in Hogwarts.

You were sort of friends, sure. You had most classes with each other, and sat next to him in Charms. You weren’t always a jumpy type of person, in fact before Fred started annoying you, you were quite shy. You couldn’t bother to remember when the bickering started.

He called you names, stole your belongings, bumped into you purposely in the halls, and now blocked your way when getting out of class. And the worst part, he did it all with that stupidly attractive smile of his. Merlin, how silly did you have to be to be distracted by someone where only their smile could make your knees go weak?

Fifteen seconds left...

It was almost like the clock was giving you anxiety.

“Class...” started Professor Snape with his slow, dramatic tone of voice. You didn’t want to give Snape the impression that you hated his class, but just this once, you had to be the first one to exit. You moved your leg slightly out of the seat, and your hand gripped your bag tightly, swung over your shoulder.

“... dismissed-”

You dashed for the door immediately, and rather sloppily, probably broke or crumpled up things in your bag, but you didn’t care. To your dismay, you collided with a tall, red headed, figure, smiling right down at you.

“Nice try princess.” You looked up to lock your gaze with none other than Fred. His smirk met with your scowl.

“Fred stop blocking my way!” You protested, trying to push him out of the way. Sadly, with his years playing as beater, it didn’t take much force for him to use his arms and stay in place.

He used his tall stature to block the doorway of the classroom, with his arm stretched out so you couldn’t get out. This wasn’t a first, in fact, you lost count a few weeks ago. He made you late to quite a few classes and meals.

A few students exiting gave both of you weird looks, and most treating it as if this wasn’t the first time this happened- because well, it wasn’t.

“Come on lovebirds, there’s plenty more time at lunch to flirt.” said George. He too seemed tired of your bullshit as he leaned on the wall outside of the class. You huffed as you fixed yourself up, and made an ugly face at Fred. He in turn made a kissy face back at you, which made you rush out the door, with your face flushed red.

That annoying jerk, you thought, he always knew how to get to you. But he wasn’t done with you yet. You made your way to the Gryffindor table and sat across from Angelina. The twins as usual, came bouncing in right behind you and sat next to you, one on each side.

“You know love, if you kept making that face it might get stuck like that.” He said leaning with his elbow on the table. “Oh and how would you know that hm? Is it because it happened to you?” you shot back. But deep inside you knew that wasn’t true- it was the last thing his face would be, he was gorgeous. George ooed at your statement and Angelina rolled her eyes but smiled.

“Liar liar as always (y/n), when will you admit that you’re mad for me.” he said cheekily. Of course he had something to say back that would make your face red. “Another day...” sighs Angelina resting her hand on her forehead.

-----

Your body tensed when Professor McGonagall asked everyone to find partners to practise dancing. None of the boys seemed willing to get up from their seat, who would want to practise with you, let alone ask you to the ball?

“C’mon let’s go.” said Angelina taking your hand and leading you to the twins. Oh no, not them, not Fred...

“George would you like to practise with me?” Angelina asked. “Yeah, sure.” replied George before winking to you and Fred. You stood there frozen with your brows furrowed, how could they?

“Well, let’s get to it darling.” he said. “Tch, whatever.” you muttered turning away from his gaze, and getting slightly hotter when he put his one hand on your waist and the other linked with your hand.

You kept looking back at McGonagall, trying to follow her steps, and also down at your feet a lot. To be honest, you didn’t want to meet Fred’s eyes. A few minutes later, you realized he hadn’t said anything or teased you at all. You slowly lifted your head to see what was up.

You were surprised to see his head was also down, looking at his feet. He looked up when he felt your gaze, but instead of his usual smirk and flirty one-liner, you were met with an expression you haven’t seen. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed, cheeks with a tiny bit of pink, and eyes filled with... confusion, or concern?

“Sorry love, I almost stepped on your foot there.” he said sheepishly. This was new. You weren’t sure if he was playing or being genuine. “It’s okay.” you reply quietly, unsure of his behaviour.

Midway through the lesson, you could count the number of times he said “Sorry” or “My apologies darling.” It was quite a lot of times, and the weirdest part was that he seemed truly sorry for accidentally stepping on you a few times. You appreciated that he apologized, but this was strange. When Professor McGonagall announced that the dance lesson was finished, you both sighed, and just stood there for an awkward moment.

“Reckon whoever’s going to the ball with me will have an interesting dance.” he said as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah...” you said softly.

“So how was it?” asked George as he and Angelina came over from their spot. “Couldn’t really get it...” replied Fred looking down at his hands. Was he... embarrassed?

Suddenly you felt a little guilty for spurting insults at him earlier, and for hitting him in the arm with your books, and calling him names. Yes, he had done the same too, but it wasn’t like someone as confident as him to get embarrassed and shy. You hoped that it wasn’t your continuous back and forth that made him feel worse of himself.

---

This weird behaviour continued into the next week. People around you were shocked to see you both dialed down at least 50%. You hated to admit it, but you secretly missed the playful banter you had with him.

The Yule Ball was coming closer, and you still didn’t have a date. “Go with Fred.” said Angelina casually. “Are you joking?” you asked.

“Oh? And I thought you both calmed down and finally admitted your feelings to each other.” You groaned at her statement. Alicia and Katie came over. “(Y/n), why can’t you see that he fancies you too?” asked Katie.

“W-well even if he does, I don’t think he does anymore...” you said timidly. “He’ll probably say yes anyway (y/n).” said Alicia reassuring you.

You pursed your lips. They knew you liked him, and you hated that. You were a girl who rivalled against him, both competing for a better argument and the last word. You were told constantly that he flirted with you because he fancied you. Some of your retorts you admit might’ve been a bit much, so why would he like you after all that?

---

The next day, you walked in the Charms classroom with a weird feeling in your stomach. You felt even weirder when Fred plopped himself down, and put his stuff down on the floor of his side? Usually he dropped his belongings smack in the middle, invading your space, claiming he needed ‘more room for his long limbs’, and that you could spare a bit of your space.

“Not going to put your stuff here?” you asked. “Didn’t want to disturb you.” he said before turning back to Professor Flitwick.You could tell that he didn’t sound his best, when he said that. But still, shouldn’t he be busy kicking you under the table, or looking over at your parchment?

---

“Fred!” you shouted a little too loudly as you tried to catch up with him after class ended. He turned around and walked back over to you, before waving to his twin telling him he’ll be there later. Your heart already started beating faster.

“Um, a-are you okay?” you asked. Well, that was a bit too general wasn’t it. “Course, why wouldn’t I be?” he smiled at you, until he went back to looking down at his feet, his hair covering part of his face so you couldn’t see it. Now you really felt sorry, you didn’t know what caused him to act less energetic, less loud, less of himself, but you didn’t want to be one of the sources.

You took a deep breath and reminded yourself that you were going to hex the girls if this went wrong. “Please (y/n), we wouldn’t want to go without you!” the girls voices from the other day rang in your head.

“I-I was wondering... if you wanted to go to the Yule ball with me..?” you asked shyly. “Hm?” he hummed, not looking up.

“Would you like to... gototheYuleballwithme?” you said the last part rather quickly, almost a whisper so no one in the hall could hear you. Your face was beet red, scared to face Fred’s reaction.

...

“Knew you would give in darling.” he said brushing the hair out of his face and smirking at you. The familiar fiery hot boiling feeling began to rise from within you, and unfortunately to your face. “And I would love to go with you.” he said.

“Wh- I- FRED!!” you yelled out of anger and embarrassment. “Always knew you had a heart in you, was just waiting for when you’d show it-” “FRED WEASLEY, YOU’RE SUCH AN ASS!” you yelled frustrated.

“Aw, it’s okay (y/n), I mean- hey! You there! Guess who asked me to the Yule ball!” he said tapping a random person on the shoulder. “Fred-” “In fact- EVERYONE! GUESS WHO JUST ASKED ME TO THE YULE BALL-”

“FRED!” you said hitting him in the arm. He was too busy laughing his ass off to feel the pain of your hit. “I hate you.” you hissed, as he calmed down. “I think you’re cute too.” he said sweetly.

“All that ‘sadness’ since the dance practice for the ball was all an act?” you asked frowning. “Well, I wouldn’t call it sadness. But since you said so- I’m feeling a lot better now that you think I’m handsome.”

“I didn’t say-“

“See you at the ball, love.” he said bringing his hand softly to the side of your neck to kiss you on the cheek. You froze with your eyes wide. You were ashamed to say that your mind kept replaying the moment. A few seconds later, your mind snapped back to reality, and started going after Fred.

“F-Fred! You can’t just randomly do things like that! Come back here!” you yelled as he too started running. Both your voices echoed in the distance. George and Angelina saw as the two of you rushed by the entrance of the great hall, up to your usual chase.

“How long until you think they get married?” asked Angelina to George.

“Tomorrow.”

—————————

Link to pt 2: Here

#fred weasley #fred weasley fic #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley imagine #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #weasley twins #weasley twins fanfiction

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kiefbowl · 3 years

Note

this is random but how long have you been using this account? i remember you as some of the first people i followed when i discovered radical feminism

I had to look up my archive to remember but it looks like I started this blog in June of 2016, as long as I didn’t delete all post prior to June for some reason (I don’t really delete posts, it’s too much work lol. try not to go fishing for anything embarrassing I beg everyone). I would have been aawb then. Plus that timeline feels right, because I had to remake bc around that time ish tumblr out of nowhere reset everyone’s passwords and my email address was tied to a college email I didn’t have access too and there was no recovery. so I had a side blog for about a year or two as radfemeudaimonia, then tumblr reset people’s passwords, and I could only access that blog and my other blogs at the time via the app because that never logged me out. I did that for like 2-3 months, and then gave up and just abandoned those and remade a new account as aawb. Before making radfemuedaimonia, I had been on tumblr on my main account for like who even knows how long, but years. So I’ve been around on tumblr a long time. I changed my url from aawb to kiefbowl probably around nov/dec of 2017, which is weird to realize that because I thought I was aawb for a really long time, but I guess not and I’ve been kiefbowl for longer now. anyway, that’s my rambling history on tumblr, which is not really what you asked for, but I’m glad you asked because I had to look up and take stock of my history which is good to do from time to time and gd I’ve been here a long time lol.

If you’ve been here a long time with me, you’ve probably notice I’ve changed how I use tumblr a lot. Tumblr used to be so so so important to me in expressing my ideas and finding theory on feminism and connecting with other women. I was also younger, under employed, struggling, angry as fuck, and super depressed. I would spend a lot more time trying to get well written “discourse” posts out there and answered a lot more asks. I def think my edge has dulled a bit, for better and for worse. I’ve come to terms with the ways tumblr has also been very unproductive and unhealthy for me as well, and I’m just older. The need for validation was something I was blind to at 25, I realize how important that was for me in hindsight, and now it’s not that important to me. I know what I believe, I know how I act, I know what’s incongruent, I don’t really need strangers weighing in, even if I like them. I feel I know a lot of mutuals, but I also have come to terms we don’t really know each other. There are a lot of people on radblr (whatever that means) I admire for their posts or attitude or jokes, but I know we might not actually get along if we met in real life. Lately, I’m more focused on my immediate community. I’m trying to put a lot of energy into my irl relationships (including the men I know!) because I think that’s more worthwhile of my time and you have to put what you read into practice at some point. You have to see what the consequences of your words in real time, it’s at times surprising and humbling, which makes it worthwhile.

I have met a few people from tumblr in real life. some of it has worked out, some of it hasn’t. some of it not working is my fault, bc I had a lot of dips in depression over the past few years. I think about reaching out to them and making it better all the time, and I think I will once covid is done. I met up with someone once and I got creepy anons I ignored who knew about it at some point and then she published a couple anons that creeped me out too (I don’t know if she realizes it) and unfortunately that was one of the reasons I put some distance between us, not that I was conscious of it really but I see it now in hindsight, and became reeeeeaaaally conscious of what I said and posted here and who I met up with, which since has been one other person and no one else. These were people going “I’m so excited to hear you met up with x” and she got an anon she published that said “I think you and aawb should start dating” and I was like “okay there be freaks on tumblr” and since then I just really put a lot of distance between me and the non mutuals here. It’s very clear between me and other mutuals who are “big” (whatever that means tbh) that I’ve talked to it about that there are unwell people on tumblr who project a whole lot of shit onto you even if they admire you. Psychologically, that can wear on you more than dumbass misogynists who argue with you, because they’re just flash in the pan and to them you’re faceless, you’re anybody, you don’t matter. But people who are sycophantic think they know you (not suggesting you are anon, your ask seems completely reasonable. I ignore shit like that now, I’ve stop publishing those anons) and they say weird stuff that is like...dumb. like “you’re the smartest person in the world” or whatever and it’s like, obviously that is not true and it’s not actually appreciated. I’m just regular, we’re all regular people on here.

I’ll be real, I think about archiving this blog by keeping my posts I like and am proud of and deleting everything else, and not deactivating but bouncing. At one point or another, tumblr is going to phase out of my life. It’s probably going to happen sooner than later, I just feel old at this point and sometimes I find it a little embarrassing idk.

I’m glad you’ve enjoyed my blog and I’ve helped you in whatever ways I have to help you find feminism. I hope you keep at it and remember to talk to as many women as possible as much as you can! :)

It was fun decompressing my history with this anon, it’s actually helped me a little gain some perspective, so thank you anon, even if that wasn’t your intention lol. I do what I want lmao.

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raeyvies · 7 years

Note

Hi! If it's not a problem; I'd like to ask how would Saeran deal with MC who's kind of... similar to him, I mean: she's also so scared of being left, but, to the point of 'running away' when she feels like she's getting too close to someone, bc she's just anxious that she'll be left anyway... Also, if it's not a problem, how would Seven deal with someone like this? Hope it's not too weird... If it is, feel free to ignore me ^^; have a nice day!

Saeran dealing with an MC who is similar to him with her anxiety and wants to run away.

Turns out I wrote this as story form to show how Saeran would deal with this kind of MC. I absolutely loved writing this. I legit poured so much emotions into this and I hope you can feel them as you read this. When I gave this whole headcanon a reread, I got emotional honestly. I really hope you like this ^^ Honestly took me a bit of time to think of a plot for this and I’m not disappointed. Also I might do the Seven version of this but I have to think of a plot for it too. I apologize for any mistakes! .

Feel free to request headcanons!

You were a recent college graduate when you met Saeran. You had started working at a botanical garden while you waited for responses to your job applications to various research companies. It was a suitable career for a person like you since it mostly involved independent work with the occasional interaction of a colleague.

Around a month into your new job, you found it was a relaxing escape as though you were in a world of your own. You tended to the plants every day and always paid more attention to the wilting ones. Unlike most people who would just replace the wilting flowers, you never abandoned them and tried to revive them.

Compensation is what you would call it.

Also by that time, Saeran became a regular visitor to the garden. Just like you, it was a place of serenity that helped with his own anxiety. He knew every employee there and had introduced himself to all of them except for one. You.

“Oh! I’ve never seen you around here before. You must be new here,” Saeran started. He noticed you had awkward mannerism that reminded him of himself but he also thought it was cute.

You were in your own world when you heard his voice and suddenly jumped, dropping a plant on the floor. Saeran immediately apologized for scaring you and helped you clean up the mess you made. Internally, you felt so guilty for having ruined a perfectly good flower and sighed. However, you refused to throw it away.

“You don’t have to apologize. I’ll just try to get this little one into another pot or something,” and that was the end of your interaction with Saeran for that day.

Saeran came back everyday just to watch you. Let’s be real, he was stalking you but in an innocent way. He noticed how caring you were for the plants, as though they were people. You even talked to the plants. Anyone would probably think you were maybe a little strange and socially inept just by watching the way you acted at work, but Saeran never thought that. And that was because he did the same thing. He had a love for nature and similar to you, he thought that they were like good company. That the flowers would not abandon him. He was starting to be intrigued by you.

Finally, after a week of watching you, he had courage to introduce himself to you. He felt a little embarrassed that the two of you got off on a somewhat wrong foot. But you didn’t think too much about that day.

“I’m MC. I should have introduced myself last week,” you scratched the back of your head as you awkwardly introduced yourself. You weren’t quite sure what to say to him. You’d just met him and quite honestly, your socializing skills were way beneath the floor.

However that started to change.

That day Saeran talked all about how he loved plants and how he came to the garden every single day, and right before your shift ended, he asked for your phone number which you gladly gave, not thinking too much about it. He would probably forget you and delete your phone number eventually.

But you thought wrong.

Days of seeing each other became weeks. Weeks gave you time to develop a solid friendship. You were fine with friendship because you were still able to keep a safe distance from him. Admittedly, you didn’t want to grow too attached to him. If he was just like everyone in your past, he would eventually forget you. You already told yourself you’re not a memorable person.

Weeks later, you still worked at the gardens and grew accustomed to Saeran’s friendly visits. You really enjoyed his company and for once you actually forgot about your anxiety. You forgot what it was like to be left behind because he filled you with so much care and friendliness. However, you didn’t know he had his own demons just like you but somehow you felt it. And he probably felt yours too. Being in each other’s company was in fact healing for the both of you.

One night, Saeran couldn’t hold back, and leaned in to give you a kiss. You were left there frozen for a few moments and soon ran away without even apologizing or making up an excuse.

Saeran texted you so many times that night. He kept apologizing and saying he overstepped. You read every single one of the messages and you felt horrible for what you did. But you couldn’t help yourself. Running away was your way of defending yourself from attachment and keeping your sanity, because if you were being honest to yourself, you were falling for Saeran. You were so afraid though.

On the receiving hand, Saeran was beating himself up for what he did to you. He felt like an idiot but he also was so scared for what would happen to the both of you now. You were someone who understood him. You two had such a deep connection. He had never had with anyone else because everyone abandoned him once he began to show his true colors. You, on the other hand, not so much. But maybe now he blew it. He was so desperate every time he sent those texts until he finally sent one message that was a hit to your heart.

“Please don’t leave me…”

That moment you realized he was a reflection of you. And now you knew what it felt to be on the other end. You, who had always been left behind, were abandoning Saeran, but those words made you go back on your decision to run away from him. You began to understand your own anxiety from an outside lens and that was enough to text him three words.

“Where are you?”

Saeran was sitting in his apartment’s balcony staring out at the cityscape. As soon as he saw you walking towards the building, he ran down the stairs and met you in the lobby. Without saying a word, you embraced him. It was the first truly warm hug that you had given anyone. Part of you just wanted to let go already but the other half knew that this was a step forward to overcome your anxiety. While hugging you, Saeran only wanted to tighten his grip on you. No one had ever come this close to him except you, and he wasn’t about to let you slip out of his grip.

For the first six months as a couple, everything was perfect as could be. Being with each other seemed to be a solution for the both of you and it was almost as if both of your anxieties had faded away. You two led normal lives and were a disgustingly cheesy couple. You both went out for ice cream, and you took a step forward to move in with Saeran. Besides, it was closer to your new workplace at a research institution. He visited you at the institution and in return you would also visit him at his agency. Both of you shared intimate moments with each other and grew even closer to each other. Slowly, your attachment to him grew stronger as did your urge to run away. Saeran on the other hand, was beginning to tighten his grip on you so he wouldn’t be abandoned by you either.

After those six months the both of you started learning more about each other’s demons. Saeran put two and two together and realized you had attachment anxiety, and you discovered about his abandonment anxiety. This was just like putting two magnets together. Whereas you ran away from attachment to defend yourself from abandonment, Saeran would do everything possible to make sure you never left him to defend himself from abandonment.

It was suffocating you. Saeran texting you every given moment so that you would come home and everyday embracing you tighter than the previous day. It was all too much. And worst of all, you were very convinced he didn’t know that he was suffocating you. He just didn’t know how to treat you despite knowing that you wanted to keep a safe distance from him, metaphorically. He knew you wanted escape but Saeran simply didn’t know how to control his affection for you, and you couldn’t handle it anymore.

So you ran away.

You didn’t know where you were going. You just took off for a week or so. You left with whatever money you had and went to a hotel. Anyone could see you were a mess, not able to breathe by Saeran’s side. And leaving him for that week was enough. Were you going to go back and face your fear? Were you going to set aside your own anxieties help Saeran out first? Those thoughts clouded your mind, and stressed you out so much.

Saeran blamed himself for everything because he just didn’t know how to deal with someone who was identical to him in almost every aspect.

In that week that you left, Saeran lost it. He had multiple breakdowns at first. Then he slowly began to realize that for either of you to ever be okay again, one of you had to give up their fears first. Only then could one help the other without pushing each other away. He wanted to be responsible for helping you out so that the two of you could have a healthy relationship.

Because, despite all of this, as a couple, the two of you were pure and had something worth fighting for.

Saeran figured he had to stop thinking about you abandoning him and change to help you realized that he wouldn’t ever abandon you. That way it would end your own fears of being left behind; that way you could stop fearing commitment and attachment, so that running away was no longer necessary. Saeran became aware that he was only fueling your anxiety by being the way he currently was so he had to change first.

Then he would help you learn that if you run away, you would never know if you were going to be left behind to begin with.

When you returned to Saeran’s home, it was very late. You felt somewhat guilty about arriving so late. And seeing as Saeran didn’t answer the door, you assumed he was sleeping. That was definitely something new because before you ran away, he would open the door almost instantly as if he were waiting for you even at late hours. Honestly, it was uncomfortable sometimes. The fact that Saeran took so long to answer gave you more than enough time to reconsider leaving again. However, about 2 minutes later, he opened the door for you, so happy that you were here. You felt his embrace was looser than before just like when you first hugged him the day you became a couple. His aura was different too.

It was…welcoming. Comforting, even. He was changing and you could see it.

The both of you talked out your dilemmas while in bed. Saeran actually kept a little more distance from you so that you wouldn’t feel suffocated, though, he lovingly stroked your hair as you spoke to him.

You told him everything on your mind. It all sounded more depressing to Saeran than you would have imagined, especially when you mumbled with a broken laugh, “I’m always the one who’s left behind. Forgotten. But I figured that I can’t be thrown away if I don’t let anyone get close, and it’s worked all this time I guess…”

“But how do you know you’ll be left behind,” Saeran asked softly. You had no answer to his question because you had never really thought of that possibility. Your only answer had always been to run away. Seeing that you weren’t looking at him and remained silent, Saeran placed his hand on your soft cheek. “Look at me, MC. Give me a chance to show you I won’t leave you behind. I don’t want you to be scared anymore.”

You lifted your head and met his eyes, placing your hand on top of his. This new Saeran made you feel so at ease, and you knew that he only wanted to be there for you. His reassurance was enough reason for you to smile, and you quietly muttered, “I’ll stay then. I won’t leave you.”

If he was doing this for you, the least you could do was to stay with him. You had to give something in return. It was a mutual effort to aid each other in overcoming their anxieties.

Months passed and Saeran was clearly showing signs of progress. He no longer was fearful on nights that you came home late without telling him. He learned to control his affection for you and to loosen his grip on you. Your relationship with him grew more intimate and deeper, and months turned into a year.

For the first time in years you felt that you could finally breathe. Being with him was healing you, but something was missing to fully overcome your own anxiety. You just didn’t know what it was and until you could find it, you went through cycles between happiness and fear.

After two years with Saeran, you found that this was the longest you had stayed with someone. It was also the longest time anyone had spent with you. However, your fear slowly slipped back into your life and it seemed to never want to leave. It was as though you were waiting for the day you would be abandoned.

That year, your hair started turning grey from constant stressful thoughts. You would dye it constantly with retouching sprays. However, those only really lasted for about three days each application. You didn’t stop hiding it from Saeran though. You wanted him to believe you were progressing just like he was. He had already gotten rid of his anxieties but yours never faded away. They remained dormant for a while until now. What triggered it was still a mystery to you.

You simply couldn’t bring yourself to tell Saeran that you weren’t fine anymore. You started becoming more paranoid. When he didn’t answer your messages, you threw all logical thinking away and never paused to think that maybe he was just busy working. After all he didn’t have the easiest job as a hacker. You were so convinced that he was easing his way out of your life and that he was tired of you. But pretending to be fine around Saeran proved to be extremely burdensome.

Saeran began to be piece clues together that you were anxious once again when he found an empty dye bottle in the trash can. You had forgotten to throw it away somewhere else since that week you had become lethargic. You didn’t keep up the maintenance with your hair and rather kept it under a beanie; it was fitting because it was winter. Under your hat, you had about 5 inches of hair that was vibrant grey while the rest was still chestnut.

One night that same week, you were completely consumed by your fear when Saeran hadn’t come home. You found that you couldn’t breathe easily anymore and were desperately pulling at your shirt’s collar while you stayed up watching TV. You hoped it would distract to watch some Korean dramas but it failed. Your palms were sweaty and you heart was racing. It felt like the world was spinning around you and you couldn’t take it anymore. You ran from the apartment and despite being afraid of being outside, alone in the dark, your anxiety was much stronger.

You only went as far as a few blocks away. Throwing caution to the wind, you ran across the streets without noticing the cars around you. You were startled by one car at an intersection but you couldn’t see that it was Saeran in that car.

Saeran had been so scared that he’d almost run you over but he was quicker to chase after you, leaving the car running. You finally stopped running when you could barely breathe and found yourself in front of a bus stop. You held onto a light post and cried out. Screaming into the night, not caring for who heard you, was the only thing you could do. You just didn’t know what to do as you were physically in pain.

Then out of the blue, you hear Saeran yelling your name and found yourself in his arms as a broken mess.

“Shhh… Shhh… you’re okay. It’s okay I’m here,” he attempted at calming you down. He felt you gripping his jacket so tightly and shaking in his arms.

You were trying to find your words and managed to say between breaths, “I-I love you too much Saeran! I’m so scared of losing you. I don’t know how to handle these feelings… it feels like I can’t breathe!”

“I know… Please calm down, MC. I’m still here. It’s okay to be scared. But I’m not going anywhere,” he stroked the back of your head. Then he heard you coughing over and over again, worrying him sick.

You gripped your own shirt, trying to pull it from your chest, wheezing and struggling to catch a single breath. “S-Saeran, I… can't… breathe.”

As if it were an instinct, he carried you on his back and took you back to his car, thanking God that he actually left it at the intersection. He sped all the way to hospital, catching glimpses of you to make sure you were still conscious. Forgetting to park, he stopped the car in whatever convenient place and dashed you all the way to the emergency room.

After the mess died down, you were now calmed down (more like sedated) and laid down on a bed. It was only now that Saeran noticed your bright grey hair and heavily sighed, tears now falling down his cheeks. How couldn’t he have seen that you were only putting on an act this entire time and that that was why he found the dye bottle. He knew what your grey hair meant because he once was in the same place, but that was far long ago even before he met you.

After waking up, you felt so ashamed for having held your pain for so long that you ended up here. You were prescribed to see a psychiatrist in the end. Your anxiety had gotten out of hand that you needed medication to deal with it.

Saeran encouraged you to take your pills every day because on your own, you refused to. In all honesty, it was like a hit to your pride since your sanity was basically dependent on the medicine. But Saeran told you it was nothing to be ashamed of.

You were so thankful to have met Saeran even under your circumstances. After about ten months, you were regaining control of your fears and suppressing them with his aid. Sadly, it wasn’t enough to stop your hair from growing out grey. You two learned that going to the botanical garden eased your mind and it became a place that Saeran made sure you visited every other day.

He remembered everything you two had gone through in these past four years and he never regretted anything. You were the best thing that happened to him and well, he wanted to be with you for the rest of his life.

Saeran thought that it was finally the perfect moment while you were both visiting the garden one night. You were light hearted and radiant most of the time, and after fighting your fears with you, he was possibly more elated and relieved than you. He loved you so much, and the words you cried to him that night when you had that panic attack always rang in his ears.

“I love you too much. I’m scared of losing you. I don’t know how to handle these feelings …”

All Saeran wanted was for you to know that love wasn’t something to fear, and he fell to one knee, holding a ring as he confessed, “MC, I can’t remember what my life was like before I met you here. I almost forgot what it was like to smile and laugh, and even love someone before you came into my life. I know we’ve both had our struggles but we’ve somehow made it through it all. Together. I don’t even want to imagine where we would be now if I hadn’t scared you that day. Much less do I want to imagine where we could be right now.”

You already knew what was going to come next but you still couldn’t avoid your emotions. You weren’t sure if you were overjoyed but all you knew was that you had to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

“Saeran…,” you whispered with a smile.

“MC, will you marry me?”

Eyes watering, giving Saeran the widest smile he had ever seen, you nodded in place of the words you couldn’t form. Holding your hand softly, ever so delicately, Saeran slid the ring on your finger. The ring had a blue rose engraved into it.

Then he laid a deep kiss on your lips and you held him so tight.

He won’t leave me. I won’t be alone.

You married in a courthouse with Saeyoung as your witness. Both of you felt you didn’t need to hold an extravagant wedding to prove that neither of you would be abandoned by each other. You had worn a flower from the botanical garden in your half grayed hair, proudly, and Saeran saved that flower in your home.

Six months later…

You were just finishing showering when you noticed something changed in the mirror. Something you bad desperately wanted from the start and all you could do was feel so relieved.

“No. This can’t be oh my god,” you muttered to yourself.

You dried up, clothed yourself, and wrapped your hair in your towel before you yelled out for your husband.

“Saeran!!”

He was there in like three seconds; he was so worried that you were yelling out because you hurt yourself or fell. But seeing as you were upright with a huge grin plastered on your face, he knew it wasn’t what he thought.

You removed the towel from your head, Saeran finally understood why you looked so excited, and you exclaimed, “It’s not grey anymore!”

Your roots were finally growing with your natural hair color and Saeran pulled you in, whispering in your ear, “You finally won, my fighter. I knew you would. I love you, MC.”

And he gave you a long kiss on your forehead that told you everything he couldn’t find words for.

#mystic messenger #mysme #mysme spoiler #mystic messenger spoiler #mysme scenario #mystic messenger scenario #mysme fanfic #mysme headcanon #mystic messenger headcanon #mystic messenger fanfic #saeran choi #saeranxmc

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iwillbealwaysadreamer · 4 years

Text

So there's this knitting pattern I'm struggling with. I'm almost done, I only have the neckband left to do. But the neckband is worked with short rows, which I have never done before, and the pattern tells me to knit to the marker then turn and do the short row, then turn again, etc... Except it doesn't tell me where to put the marker. I think, OK, I can just figure out how to do it on my own. Except, having never done short rows before, I don't really know *how* to go about figuring it out myself. So I get frustrated about it. Plus I was grumpy that day anyway. So when I post on my craft insta about it, I get kinda ranty. Mostly, I was just getting it all off my chest bc I was so frustrated with it - with trying, getting stuck and not understanding, trying to try again but not knowing where or how to start, etc - but I was sort of also hoping someone in the knitting community on insta might give me a little guidance. I wasn't really expecting that, but that wouldn't matter as, as I said, I was mostly just venting and complaining. It was an update on the project, and the project was frustrating me at that time, so... Yeah. Anyway, I get two comments telling me I should contact the designer about the issue, so I'm like, OK, I'll do that in the morning. And THEN... and then I get another comment. From the designer. She has seen my post complaining about her pattern (and it's a great pattern apart from this 😭) and just says to send her a dm about it. I did dm her (didn't know what to say, don't even remember what I said lol) and so hopefully she will be able to help me fix this, but the thing is that it seems to me she is a pretty big designer, she has been designing for many years, is a fairly big name in the community and well respected so far as I can tell, has written books, etc... And she came across a whiny insta post from some anonymous someone throwing a tantrum about stitch markers and short rows, instead of doing the sensible thing of just calmly contacting the designer to let them know there's an error in the pattern and to ask what it should say, but no she didn't do that, she just ran straight to social media to yell and cry about it like a baby. And, as you might be able to tell, I feel rather ashamed and embarrassed about it. I did edit my post to get rid of the whiniest/whinyest(?) bits, but I would prefer it not be there at all, I would prefer it to never have happened, and yes I could delete it, but I feel for posterity and honesty, I shouldn't delete it... But I want to delete it... But I feel I shouldn't... And yeah obviously it's not the worst thing but I do feel ashamed and embarrassed - not the most I've ever felt, not by a long way - but yeah I just wanted to vent, get it off my chest... I don't think it has helped... But at least it hasn't made things worse... Idk... Anyway, it is several days later and the designer has messaged me back and I am too scared to open up my app to reply to it 🙃🙃🙃

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