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namfinessed · 16 days

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come closer, come closer - k.nj.

genre: fluff, angst (8.7k) (slowburn! sliceoflife!)

summary: nothing in your life is permanent, you would never let anything be permanent, but namjoon nestles his way in and refuses to leave, will you let him stay or would he remain something temporary? or a fic in which a friends-with-benefits situation with namjoon gets twisted out of control. (colors!universe)

note: all of the stories in the series can be read individually <3

masterpost series masterlist

fate used to amuse you, the concept of people, the many people, their many stories, their many love stories, some that made sense to you, some that seemed like absolute madness, but all of them stories you sat and listened to, you sat and read about because stories to you, were a window to what life could be.

and your life changed when namjoon entered it. it seemed like too much of the world aligned so that you would fall for him, it seemed like madness, and it made perfect sense.

everything that happened after meeting him, was truly out of your hands.

it was an off day at work. you hummed as you breezed past the shelves of books surrounding you, nothing brought you more peace than this.

today, your mission was to find a particular book.

at the end of the matinee by keiichiro hirano.

the book was about two people, close to their forties in age, who fall in love, but with the caution, wariness, and desperation that comes with that age. one of them was a world-renowned ‘genius’ guitarist whereas the other was a trauma journalist, their universes couldn’t be more different but seemed to align just for them. when you had heard about it, you knew immediately you had to read it, it was this concept of love that you had never explored before.

your eyes darted to every title as quickly as they could, but you could feel yourself getting impatient as you passed by more shelves, none of them had the book you wanted.

the front desk lady lied when she reassured you that it was in row 3, you were in row 15 now and it was nowhere to be found.

a deep irritation settled under your skin as you cursed the skies and stars for doing this to you, you continued your grumbling as you sat down with a huff at a table. of course, two good things, a day off and the book you so desperately wanted, wouldn’t happen all at once to you. rarely, one good thing happened to you in a day so, this was nothing new.

but still, you were so invested in the world of that book, that you wanted to dive into that world and never float back up because a love so tender, at an age where everything feels the same and your skin sheds its youth, fascinated you.

and today, you won’t get to dive in, you won’t get to be lost in a world that didn’t belong to you.

“excuse me, that’s my seat.” a hush of a voice filled your ears. you immediately removed yourself from the seat and moved a seat up, scrolling on your phone aimlessly.

maybe you will find another book.

maybe there is another world that you could live in, for now.

then, it hits you.

the scent of something soft, a cloud, a pillow. the scent wraps around you, taking you with its softness. you know that scent.

you peek up to see a man next to you. he was wearing a baby blue sweatshirt, matching sweatpants, a baseball cap, and a mask.

the softness that distracted you.

and in his hands, he held the book that you were wishing the gods above and below for.

you know those hands.

he was the one who took your precious book before you did?

you didn’t own it by any means but that didn’t mean you weren’t highly frustrated that it ended up in his hands, of everyone else.

“you.” you said, as calmly as you could.

namjoon bites back a grin at the frustration in your voice. “yes?”

“you know i’ve been looking for this namjoon, this isn’t fair.” you bark out, leaning forward to grab the book from him but he just holds it above himself, knowing you won’t be able to reach it. you sink back into your seat with a frown on your face and namjoon sighs.

he’s never had a problem telling someone no, in fact, he’s enjoyed turning down some overly excited people but when it came to you, denying you of something just wasn’t possible for him, even if it was as a joke.

the book plopped in front of you and your frown immediately melted, and you grabbed it into your arms, namjoon rolled his eyes with a fond smile growing on his face.

“give it to me when you come over someday.”

your relationship with namjoon was hard to describe, you were sort-of friends, sort-of friends who had read books together, sort-of friends who hung out without saying a word, and sort-of friends who occasionally had sex.

it all started when a mutual friend introduced you to him at a horrid party that you hated being at, namjoon hated it too and he made that clear, so you decided to spend your time doing something else.

and soon, it became a regular occurrence and it was working well, you two understood what the other wanted and had no qualms about giving it to them.

namjoon pulled out his book as well and you peeked at it curiously.

lovers in the night by mieko kawakami.

strange.

you added that book to your to-read list yesterday.

“you can just ask to see it if you want, you know?” he tuts at you teasingly, watching your eyes dart towards his book, you scoff at him and sink into your seat.

then, there was silence, only the sound of pages turning and both of your breaths coming out in the space. you liked that, you never had to talk to namjoon to be present with him and so far, this arrangement worked perfectly for you.

but you caught yourself peeking in his direction again, this time, it wasn’t his book, it was him, the way he sat, the way he turned the pages sharply, the way his breath came out slow and you had no excuse for your curiosity.

“tonight, your place?” his question came casually and you nodded as soon as the words left him.

you couldn’t help but think that you had agreed too quickly.

“i don’t understand the point of this movie” you say to namjoon, lying across his chest and your body shakes with his as a low laugh tumbles out of him. he has come to be extremely fond of your quick irritation to things.

“you read so much romance, i thought you would’ve gotten it by now” he sips his wine and you feel the urge to tip it over his white sweatshirt, just for his sarcastic tone. namjoon sees the glare on your face and feels the strangest satisfaction wash over him.

“don’t make me pour the bottle on you.” you eye the bottle that was near your feet and he promptly reaches out to put it near him with a tut which makes you giggle.

chungking express wasn’t your usual movie.

there was no rosy romance filled with confessions and promises.

there were just stolen glances, just hoping that someone else wouldn’t take them, just the characters in a world that changed too quickly, just memories that never faded.

it both fascinated and confused you.

why did love have to be so confusing?

if two people liked each other, was it so hard to just say the words and be together?

why did anything else matter?

he notices your confusion, the deep frown on your face is a dead giveaway, and namjoon, shamefully admits to himself, that he finds it cute.

“i can hear your mind all the way here” namjoon taps your temple and you shift to sit with a groan. “i just don’t understand what’s so hard.”

he already wanted to pull you back on his chest but he clears his throat instead.

“please fill me in.”

“if she likes him, why didn’t she just tell him?” you point to the character who was now staring adoringly at her lover, this was just one out of the many times that they’d met and she was yet to make a move.

namjoon stares at the character, all of the words she wants to say die inside of her but her eyes stay alive with the love she holds for her object of admiration.

“i guess it’s not so easy.”

“what is not easy about just saying the words?” you rolled your eyes.

namjoon’s answer is quick, maybe too quick, “i don’t know, giving someone a piece of your most vulnerable form is scary, there is always fear in affection.”

he leaned back uncomfortably after saying it, not knowing if he should’ve said anything at all.

but to you, something about the way namjoon spoke, always put you in a daze. you never heard someone talk the way he did and you weren’t supposed to like the way he talked. “you sound like the wise tortoise from kung fu panda.” you snicker at him instead of blurting out that his words warmed your heart.

in a world where affection and love were dying, namjoon gave a more comforting reason as to why it was dying, maybe it wasn’t the factual reason, but it helped you feel better anyway.

he scrunches his eyebrows and scoffs at you, “he’s my favorite character so, fuck you.” you laugh at his annoyed face and throw your legs over his feet, he adjusts himself and you sink into the side of his arm. namjoon could feel his body wanting you closer but he resisted, he held his arm above you and over the sofa and shoved his desires in deep.

the movie was long, you didn’t particularly like it, and you never understood why people had such a hard time figuring out their feelings but namjoon didn’t have to know. and as soon as the movie ended, he got up to leave.

“you can pick the movie next time,” he says as he puts on his shoes, looking up at you with a knowing grin. “i liked it!” you tried to save your face, following him to the main door.

well, he liked that you were at least pretending to not completely hate it, for his sake.

namjoon turns to you with a quirked eyebrow, finding it all so amusing, and before he can stop himself, he steps closer and places a single kiss on your forehead and just as quickly, steps away.

that wasn’t supposed to happen.

he doesn’t know what came over him.

“i saw you yawn five times in ten minutes, we’ll watch kung fu panda next time.” he snickered with an uneasy feeling settled in his stomach and rushed out the door, to make sure he didn’t do anything again.

and you stand, shell-shocked.

that was not a big deal.

a kiss on the forehead.

not a big deal at all.

it was not a big deal that your hands were clenched by your sides.

it was not a big deal that your cheeks stayed burning hot.

it was not a big deal that your feet refused to move away from where he left.

this shouldn’t be happening.

you guys never just watched a movie, it always led to something more but it wasn’t even in your minds today and that wasn’t okay.

you needed to remind him that your hangouts were for sex only and it can’t be anything else. you needed to remind namjoon that you were getting off track, which was unacceptable.

that night, namjoon dreamt of you in his arms, just you in his arms, that was unacceptable.

but that night, your hands reached to caress the spot where you still felt his lips. and that was also unacceptable.

you didn’t text him after that, it wasn’t intentional or anything, you just felt that things shifted that night and you didn’t like it, a little distance would set things right back to the way they were.

casual and easy.

because that’s why you two worked, it was always casual and easy with namjoon.

and you hated to admit this to yourself, but you missed him.

which wasn’t so casual and easy.

you checked every post he made on instagram, every story that he uploaded, every song he recommended, and you still answered when he texted you but you let the message hover in your notification board for a few hours and gave every excuse possible to not meet him.

and this was supposed to be easy, you never felt the need to hang out or be with namjoon before, but that feeling was growing as the days passed, without a feel of his skin, without his gaze on you, without his slow laughter flowing through your room.

you wondered how it was for namjoon, maybe he was okay, maybe he didn’t care at all, maybe he was with someone else already and that was all fine, it was how things should be.

“people do fall in love. people do belong to each other because that's the only chance that anyone's got for true happiness.”

paul from breakfast at tiffany’s spoke on the screen, he looked angry but his words plead with his lover to agree with him, to let him sweep her off her feet, he needs her to understand that they are meant to be, even if she tried to deny it, even if she believes in a world where love didn’t exist.

you watched with teary eyes as they both ended up kissing in the rain with all their love pouring into each other.

it made you feel bitter.

it made you feel…empty.

you ignore it.

with an uneasy feeling crawling down your chest, you pull out your phone and your finger immediately reaches for the instagram icon. you waste no time clicking the circle around namjoon’s profile.

god bless him for being so active.

he was at a bar, not too far away from here and he was smiling, surrounded by a large group of friends.

the uneasiness in your chest let up a bit as your lips tugged into a smile too, namjoon’s always had a nice smile.

you really wanted to see him.

as much as it killed you to come to terms with that, every inch of you was trying to run away and find him, melt in him, let him talk through the night about things you never quite understood but enjoyed listening to.

or maybe your forehead just wanted another kiss, maybe your body just wanted company for tonight, maybe you just needed him for the exact benefits your situation rewarded you with.

maybe meeting him wouldn’t be such a bad idea, after all, you two had an arrangement for a reason, to give your bodies to each other.

but he was with his friends, it would be quite rude and obnoxious of you to just ask him to get out of it and meet you, just because you feel more needy than usual.

there were other ways though.

you didn’t have to go for him at all.

it was dinnertime, you were too lazy to cook, it could just be that you were hungry and decided to pick up some food. isn’t it so convenient that the place so close to you with food also has namjoon in it? but it wasn’t about him at all, the last thing on your mind.

a solid plan, if you could say so yourself.

a gush of wind pushed past you as you stood before the door to the restaurant that held namjoon on the other side. the stars were hard to see as you looked up and took a few deep breaths, it’s been so long since you’ve seen him, so long since you’ve heard his voice, so long since you’ve touched him.

(it’s been two weeks, actually.)

did you want to do this?

is this how you wanted to see him again, with some elaborate ruse?

the answer was yes.

yes, you wanted to do this and yes, this was how you wanted to see him again because you quite literally couldn’t figure out another way to see him.

texting and asking to meet was so old-fashioned.

the loud ring of the bell above your head, made you flinch as you pushed in and a string of greetings from the waiters came toward you, you politely greeted them back but your fingers twitched as you started looking for the person you had come all dolled up for.

you mean, the dish you couldn’t wait to take home and scarf down.

you quickly stepped to the counter where the menu lay and started flipping through it, not caring or seeing anything.

then you heard it.

his laughter.

which through all the noise, somehow made it to your ears.

maybe you had been paying extra attention to hear him somewhere but for now, you will just say that his laughter was too loud because why would you want to hear him when you were here for something else?

nevertheless, a look wouldn’t hurt anyone. you could just see him, satisfy this urge in you, and go back home with warm food.

if you remember the story right (you did, you rewatched it fifty times), namjoon was sitting towards the left side with a group of around six people so, you slyly scanned the left side with eagle eyes.

one quick look.

and nothing else.

and.

nothing.

else.

you told yourself that, ordered yourself that you would not be talking to namjoon.

and there he was.

your breath paused.

he didn’t look anything different from the ordinary.

he was wearing his beige trousers and t-shirt, he was wearing his worn-out beanie, he was laughing with the people around him and it was so simple, so ordinary, a scene that you would see anywhere in any restaurant.

but you wanted to run to him and hold him close, let him warm you, let him run his fingers through your hair, let him never let you go.

and you knew how dangerous it was to feel this way and how this would end for you.

that’s when you saw it.

the fear in affection, that namjoon had so gently explained to you the other day.

your “quick look” lasted more than a few minutes but you were having trouble peeling your eyes away from him.

that was until, you saw his body sit straighter and start looking around, as if he could sense someone’s gaze on him (that was on you, you were probably burning holes into him with your eyes) and you turned your body completely to the other side.

you were just overthinking it, there’s no way namjoon would sense someone casually glancing at him.

“i’ll take this to go, please” you whispered to the person at the counter while hurriedly pointing to some random dish on the menu. they looked at you with an uneasy smile and nodded slowly, you must look crazy to them.

but that didn’t matter, as long as you got your food and you got the hell out of here before namjoon noticed you, you were good with whatever they thought of you.

you scrolled through your phone, still facing fully away from him, and waited for your order to come, your foot tapping restlessly against the floor.

you kept waiting.

and waiting.

why were they taking so long?

the pace at which your foot tapped against the floor increased as you started to grow anxious.

you couldn’t stay forever, namjoon might finish his dinner, he might walk out, passing right by you and you would have to talk then and that was just-

“what are you doing, standing here?”

the tapping of your foot stopped.

exactly what you were dreading.

or exactly what you were hoping for.

you are not sure which one it is anymore.

“oh hey.” you turn around with a lame wave of your hand at the man that you don’t know what you feel for. he was looking at you with crinkled eyes and a teasing smile that picked his cheeks up and made them round.

get a grip.

“you know, the chairs at a restaurant are for sitting.” you follow his gaze to the chairs lined up near the counter.

……

you had nothing to say to that.

“i came to pick up dinner, what are you doing here?” you asked, as if you didn’t know already and he pointed towards the table that you were staring at earlier. “just with a couple of friends, do you want to join us?”

it was your rule, one that you had established wordlessly, stating clearly that you were not meant to hang out with each other’s friends but you always had wondered what namjoon was like around his friends.

was he just as snarky?

was he just as wise?

did he have an answer to everything for them as well?

you let him take your hand and walk you to the loud table, the food that you hadn’t noticed, grew cold on the counter.

“namjoon used to be so uptight then, he didn’t even help us on the test, he told us, ‘ey, i won’t be there in the future to help you out, so figure your shit out’, and he said this for one math problem, for one stupid test!” his friend, yoongi, barked out with a deepened voice to imitate namjoon and you loved every minute of it, as your head fell back in laughter.

namjoon smiled sheepishly, though his eyes threw daggers at yoongi and hid his face behind his huge hands, turning away from you.

you found that especially adorable.

“what a narc” you shoved his shoulder and, everyone erupted into loud laughter around the table. namjoon squinted his eyes and tried to give you an intimidating glare, which soon melted into a smile when you raised your eyebrows at him.

it felt so good.

he had his arm around your shoulder, you were almost buried into his side, the soft scent of his perfume enveloped around you and his friends seemed to love you. and the best of all, his eyes gazed over you constantly, to check on you or look at you, you had no idea but you enjoyed the attention nonetheless.

only if what you had was real, only if you knew namjoon as much as they seemed to, only if you could grab his neck and kiss him.

you shook your head at those thoughts, whatever this comfort zone was, it was only for tonight, you would never hang out with his friends again or be around him in this way again. you were only allowing this for tonight.

but.

you liked this so much.

“you good?” namjoon pulled you in closer to whisper to you, his eyes assessing the frown growing on your face.

no, i suddenly want to know everything about you, after ages of being fine with knowing nothing.

“yeah, all good” you smiled at him, tipping back your glass to hide the building tension in your throat. everyone around the table started standing up and namjoon pulled you up as well, but his hand stayed around you, holding you gently yet in a way that wouldn’t make it too easy for you to let go.

“it was so nice meeting you.” another friend of his, seokjin, wrapped you in a hug as namjoon’s arm stayed around your back, you smiled and hugged everyone else, as much as you could with his arm on you and they started waving their goodbyes, leaving you and namjoon.

you didn’t want to say ‘well, good to see you, let’s go back to fucking next week’, you didn’t want to wave goodbye and leave the warmth that radiated off namjoon, you didn’t want to go home, and think too much about his hand on your waist.

and namjoon surprised you.

“your place?” he asked, leading you out into the cold night as well and you felt the weight of all your doubts levitate off you, you tried to not agree too quickly but you couldn’t help but nod eagerly which made him smile in response, pulling you in tighter.

you two walked leisurely, with all the time in the world in your hands, and the night got darker, colder, and namjoon’s grip on you got tighter, warmer.

you didn’t speak a word, only stole glances at his side profile every once in a while, to make sure that somehow you hadn’t conjured this from your dreams, that this was reality and namjoon was here.

“what’s on your mind?” he catches your eyes, which were admiring his jaw and you look away, wanting to disappear into the night. he tugs on your hand, to urge you to answer him and you do, “your friends are hilarious, i had a very good time so thank you for inviting me.” the ‘thank you’ came out more awkwardly than you had thought.

but thankfully, namjoon found you endearing so he laughs at your scrunched-up face.

“i mean you were right there, i wasn’t going to let you go and eat alone in your apartment. but what a coincidence, right? us turning up at the same place. besides, i was going to ask you to meet them soon anyway.” he had a lovely smile on his face, he seemed to find the idea very charming, that you had somehow stumbled on each other and a pang of guilt shot through you for orchestrating the whole thing.

and the guilt worsened as the television played mindlessly in the background, as your body tangled around his, as his breath came too close, too loud, and his hands gripped onto your hair. you felt him everywhere and nowhere around you, it unnerved you.

you pulled apart hastily, the simple, harmless lie you told was enough to put some invisible wall between you and him. it felt wrong that he thought it was some sweet moment but it wasn’t.

namjoon immediately retracted, pulling his hands to himself but remaining close as he watched your reaction carefully, “do you want me to leave? because it’s okay if you’re not in the mood or don’t want me around right now, i get it.” the sound of his even breaths, his soothing tone, forced you to look at him.

“i lied,” you expected it to be harder to tell him but it wasn’t, namjoon sat up with an eyebrow quirked up as you explained to him that your turning up at the pub was no coincidence, that you had come there after seeing his instagram story.

“that’s it?” you nodded, skin burning with embarrassment, only looking up when you heard his low, amused laughter. namjoon shook his head at you, “but why? you can always call me, you know, i loved that you met them and had a good time.” he reached over to shut off the television and pull your legs from under you and onto his lap, his fingers tapped your thighs as you fell back on the sofa, covering your face with your hands.

“i felt like i couldn’t,” maybe it was because your voice sounded so small, maybe because he finally saw how truly upset you were about this but namjoon pulled you back and rested your head on his shoulder, “you always can, it doesn’t matter how or what or where we are, just call me and i’ll be here to finish all of your wine,” though you laughed at his words and buried yourself further into his collarbone, you knew you weren’t telling him the simple truth.

that night, once again, you didn’t do anything, you absentmindedly watched some movie, you crawled into bed next to him, he kissed your forehead, and fell asleep.

“namjoon?” you whispered against his snores, he stirred ever so slightly, hands reaching up to pat where you were sleeping, hands relaxing when they touched you.

“yeah?” he groaned into the pillow, “i came because,” you started, words swallowing down your throat, words flying out of your mouth.

“yeah?” this time, he looked up with squinted, sleepy eyes, and your heart drowned in adoration at the sight.

because i missed you.

it was simple words but how awful would it be, if you uttered them, and your heart that was drowning with adoration now, would have nothing to drown for?

“i just wanted to see you,” because you missed him so desperately, and a text or call wouldn’t have fed the hunger your longing left you with.

“i’m glad, because i missed you,” he kissed your shoulder and turned away to continue his slumber.

and left you with the same simple words you had been too scared to utter.

somehow, namjoon always voiced the simple words, even if they were naked, he voiced them as if it was nothing to put your bleeding heart out on your sleeve because missing someone was intimate, it was dangerous.

and that’s when your heart drowns again, you finally realize that namjoon has gotten closer to you.

a little too close.

what does it take for a person to be close?

is it the physical distance that lessens with every breath?

is it the emotional distance that connects you with an invisible string from miles away?

being close to someone is a fickle thing.

a person who knows everything about you, may not feel close.

but a person who tries to know you, may feel close.

namjoon feels close.

nights pass where the line between what you and namjoon were and what you were supposed to be, blurred to oblivion. you stopped questioning what it was, you stopped counting the beats your heart skipped every time he showed up at your door.

this night, both physically and emotionally, namjoon is close.

“why do you always read romantic books?” he hums, casually, as things have always been between you two as his hand lazily runs across your hair. he isn’t prying, it’s just a mild curiosity.

but it’s a question no one’s ever asked you.

you read romance to feel the love you yearn for.

that is your answer, there is a yearning in you that isn’t quenched by anything else except books that put your longing in words. it’s an answer you can’t give to namjoon.

“they’re just fun” you shrug, looking up and hoping he would buy your lie. he does not, he doesn’t try to hide that he doesn’t believe you but with a small smile and shake of his head, he lets you live with the lie.

“the real thing’s more fun.”

you remained silent.

you hugged him closer.

you didn’t sleep that night.

“have you got everything?” namjoon said, as he loaded your bags into the back of his car, “you helped me pack yesterday, namjoon, and you drilled my head for hours after to make sure of it,” you rolled your eyes at him, and he chuckled, patting your head, “just checking.”

you ignored the rush of warmth that filled your fingertips and your toes, you and namjoon were heading out of the city, into a tiny, charming town with his friends where you would spend about four days in a cabin there.

and yes, you know what it sounds like but when you received a call from namjoon, his excited, hopeful voice, you could imagine his face reflecting all of that, and you couldn’t say no.

the drive up is short, you sleep through it and namjoon plays soothing songs to avoid waking you up. the cabin is beautiful but you already know that from pictures and upon arrival, you are greeted with loud shouts and long hugs from his friends, you almost melt from all the affection they shower you with.

“this is for you,” yoongi hums as he drops a keycard into the palm of your hands before disappearing into his room and you trudge up the stairs to reach yours.

of course, you aren’t surprised when you see namjoon unpacking his clothes into drawers once you open the door, you know you had to share a room with him, considering that you are a guest on this trip.

it did make you reluctant at first but now, you were just waiting for your feelings to set you ablaze to make themselves known.

“hey, you” namjoon sings as he walks past you, but not without dropping a kiss on your temple that has your shoulders stiffening and your face tingling. “we’re going out in a bit to start a barbeque, see you there?”

you nod, your stomach reeling from the subtle touch of his hands that brush your arms before walking out the door.

you fall on the bed with your head in your hands, on days like these, you wish you could walk up to namjoon and ask him, what did you mean to him? did he think of you in the darkness of the night? did he want you around always?

because you did.

but you couldn’t ask.

drinks were passed, fairy lights descended on you, and soft singing filled the air.

“and our wise namjoon was just telling us what love is,” yoongi dramatically gestured to his red-faced, swaying friends and your ears picked up, hoseok groaned, “what did he say though?”

“that love is wanting to know someone more every day,” hoots and cheers and teases filled the air as namjoon buried his face into the side of your arm and complained endlessly under his breath.

you tried to laugh but you wanted to know everything about namjoon, what did that say about you?

and he asked you about yourself all the time, what did that say about him?

the question left you uneasy and annoyed.

“there’s a lake just around here,” jungkook looked at everyone around him with a suspicious glint shining in his eyes, then he got up, “race you there!” he yelled and took off, heavy feet thudding on the soft ground and everyone squealed in delight as they followed him.

namjoon pulled your hand with his as the cold air rushed over your face, a smile was frozen on your face and you ran until your lungs burned. it was out of a movie, the way your hair flowed, the way your laughs blended into the night, the way namjoon couldn’t stop looking at you.

then, as you expected, jungkook got pushed into the lake, he surfaced to yell at jimin only to break into giggles, and soon, everyone was trying to push everyone.

but namjoon only wanted to push you.

you ran around, escaping his touch in mere seconds, looking back breathlessly to see if he was near, and when he did catch you, he didn’t just throw you in, he threw both of you together.

you fell into the water, a laughing, bumbling mess but as cold as the night was, namjoon was warm so you snuggled into his neck and he held you with strong arms that wouldn’t let you drown.

close.

namjoon was so close.

“oh god, the couple’s at it again,” jin groaned and splashed water on the two of you and namjoon laughed out loud, pushing more water onto jin’s face.

but jin was wrong.

“we’re not a couple,” you nervously laughed, hands instinctively loosening around namjoon’s neck and he froze under you, his hands loosening around you as well as he cleared his throat.

jin swam away before he had to deal with the tension between you two.

namjoon’s arms left your body and you felt something break inside you as he pulled himself out of the water and wordlessly offered you, his hand. you grabbed it unsurely, not looking at him either.

you both didn’t speak at all until you reached your room.

“why did you say that?”

“say what?” you sat on the bed, picking on the lint that gathered on the sheets, unwilling to look at him.

“don’t act like you don’t know what i’m talking about, you’re smarter than that and i know it,” namjoon pinned you with serious eyes, making your heart burn in your chest, “but we’re not a couple.” you whisper, hands tightening on the sheets.

namjoon sighed, a heavy sigh, a sigh that conveyed irritation, disappointment, and restrained anger.

“i don’t understand why you’re upset, we are not a couple,” your irritation reared its head and namjoon shook his head, sitting beside you.

“are we not?” his question is breathless, lifeless, it’s waiting for you to revive it, pour life into it, and your eyes water without any command from you.

you think of the nights you spent together, the laughs you laughed together, the meals you’ve eaten together, the words that grow into a tower between you two and you think, yes, perhaps you are a couple without ever knowing it.

but it wasn’t supposed to be this.

“we had an arrangement,” you fight on, “which went to shit the second you met my friends,” he counters and you bite your lip, annoyed.

“i didn’t plan for that to happen.”

“but it happened.”

“do you really not know?” he asks again, and you know what he’s going to say, you turn away, legs coming to close around your chest.

his eyes widened and with a smile filled that held gentle surprise, he spoke as if his own words shocked him, as if he couldn’t believe he brought them to life.

“i like you. no actually, i love you.”

“don’t.”

namjoon moves away, physically his body flinches from you.

you silently crawl up on the bed and lay your head on the pillow, you gather your courage which crumbles when he comes up too and his hands find yours, he squeezes in question, what do you mean?

why did it have to be him, of all people?

“don't like me cause i don't know how to like you back, not in the way you want and not in the way that will ever be enough for you,” you say quickly, wanting this torture inside you to give up and go home, so you can finally be at peace with yourself.

it took all of two minutes for namjoon to remove himself from you.

and he left you in the bed, you clutched the pillowcase as you heard his footsteps recede from the room and you flinched when the door shut.

you cried, you put your arms around yourself and cradled your face to sleep, maybe it would be nice to feel someone else hold you but you couldn't let that be namjoon, it had to be someone that you could hurt and be okay with it.

namjoon was ignoring you, he didn’t come back to the room that night and now, he was sitting a few feet away from you and you couldn’t ignore the way everyone glanced between you two.

“the fireworks will start at 8, everyone be back by then,” jin announced, receding from the gathering and going back into the home.

“come, okay? we’ve got drinks and food,” jungkook squeezed your shoulder as he walked past, of course, he noticed you and namjoon not talking and he was sweet for making sure you were coming. you gave him a weak smile and nod.

when you reach the place where fireworks are supposed to light up the sky, there’s only namjoon on the bench that was too long for just one person.

there was so much space.

there was so much place.

but you didn’t fit in there, not next to him.

your hands wrung the cardigan dangling on your arms as a sharp exhale tried to stabilize you.

you turn around to leave but stop in your tracks when his eyes fall on the back of your head. even without looking back, you know he’s seen you and if you left, you would feel even more pathetic.

“don’t go,” he whispers, it’s hard to hear him over the crickets chirping but his voice finds its way to you and you want to cry again, “even if we’re not talking, don’t go.”

so, you stay.

you look at the lake in front of namjoon and he looks at the empty bench next to him, he knows who should be there and you know who shouldn’t be there.

even far away, his presence suffocates you, not in a dangerous way, but in a way that you would forever want to be suffocated.

everyone else arrives loudly, carrying cans of beer and packets of food and some of them sit down, jungkook and jimin are kind enough to stand next to you and keep you company but even they know where you should’ve been instead.

the rest of the night, you remember in gaps.

you remember looking at his hand when everyone looked at the fireworks, you remember the way his face lit up with a thousand colors, you remember the way his voice cheered at the sight in the sky, you remember the way his skin traveled and embraced his body.

how was something as ordinary as skin, so extraordinary when it came to him?

you wanted to become one, to melt into him and never come back to your true self. your hand itched to touch, to reach out but instead, it tightens on your cardigan and you force yourself to look away.

when you got back home from the cabin, namjoon had dropped you at your room, carried your bags in, and left immediately after as if being in your presence was unbearable for him, which made you cry as soon as the door shut behind him.

now, you were in bed, it was tuesday and you had no one in your life again.

you watched your phone like a hawk, jumping at every ting! it made but it was never namjoon and you always found yourself wishing it was.

your arm dangled off the sofa as you watched kung fu panda play on the tv.

"your story might not have a happy beginning, but that does not make you who you are." soothsayer spoke on the screen and you watched with your lips between your teeth, ignoring the way your heart skipped over when the scene cut to the wise turtle, oogway.

you didn’t want to think of namjoon, you didn’t want to think of his laugh when you called him a wise turtle nor did you want to think of how you could be watching this with him right now.

but he was out of your life now.

and you didn’t know how to live it anymore.

you suddenly were too aware of how lonely you were and too aware of how no one could soothe the loneliness nor cure it.

you saw the book he had given you that was on your coffee table still, you saw his wine glass that was tucked away in a corner of your kitchen, you saw his sweater that you never bothered giving back and you felt yourself crumble from within.

when someone leaves your life, the life you had before them seems alien, not yours.

and your life, right now, was just not yours.

“but he wasn’t even that good-looking, so it wasn’t too sad,” your friends laughed around the table as one of them spoke, you raised your glass to your lips and sipped to kill the words inside you.

but my man was beautiful, my man was everything, so it is sad for me.

when your friends called you to meet up, it seemed like a beacon of light shoved into your life and you immediately accepted, you had to go back to your life before namjoon.

“i don’t think i’ve ever liked anyone enough to be sad after we break up,” one of them sighed and the rest followed.

but i’m so sad.

“but how do we know if we like someone that much?” you asked silently, not really meaning to and all their heads snapped to you.

“i’ve only loved that much once, and it was…strange, none of me felt like me anymore, i guess you without them stops making sense,” your friend said, her eyes shimmered with memories of her past love. the ball in your throat grew tighter and it wound itself around your entire being.

you without namjoon, didn’t make sense.

and you were close to letting him out of your life forever.

you pushed against the table, hands shaking but you were so determined, it was suddenly too clear that you needed him.

“guys, i have to go.” they all smiled and giggled as they watched you run out of the restaurant.

you ran into the pouring rain, water splashed on your sneakers and your jeans but you kept pushing forward.

if you lose namjoon now, you will never forgive yourself, if you lose him after finally realizing that you need him in your life, you will never recover from the pain.

your hands hurriedly stuffed into your bag, pulling out your phone and checking his instragram, you were blessed with a view of his home and book in his stories so you wasted no time in dialing his number, pressing it to your ear and praying to every raindrop falling on you that he would pick up.

he picked up.

you stopped in your tracks.

there was only his breathing on the other side, some static noises too, and still just the simple act of him picking up the call had you sighing out in relief.

“namjoon, please come out,” you whispered, eyes lining with tears that would join the rain on your face and he sighed, you held your breath until he spoke.

then, after a pregnant silence, he sighed again, “okay.”

you cut the call and started running again, renewed energy slammed on the ground as you ran for your life, for your love.

as you finally reached his apartment, your heart raced with anticipation. the running left you breathless, the rain was merciless but the thought of seeing him filled you with an energy that surpassed any physical exhaustion.

and you bent over, catching your breath, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of nerves in your stomach. your mind raced with thoughts of what to say, how to express the feelings swirling within you. with each cough, you felt the intensity of your emotions grow, this moment, this night, this rain could change everything for you.

but you knew that whatever you said, whatever you decided to reveal, it would come from ages of knowing but denying your heart.

when someone you love leaves your life, the life you had before them stops making sense, that’s when the hollowness comes in, that’s when you realize you need them.

and you were done, you were done hiding and you were pretending that you didn’t want him under your very skin.

then, the rain stops.

to correct it, the rain stops falling on your head.

you see his shoes in front of you and muffle the cry that erupts in your throat.

you look up impatiently, so quickly that namjoon jerks back and you curse yourself with every word possible, how did you ever deny yourself of him?

“why are you here?” namjoon tries to stay stoic, and cool, even as his hands scream at him to pull you to him, to let his skin become yours and instead, his hands tighten on the umbrella he’s holding over you.

“i was wrong that day,” you gasped out, and his heart lurched even as he tried not to hope for too much, “which day?”

“when i tried to act like we weren’t anything, i was wrong, namjoon, so terribly wrong,” you shook your head at yourself, pushing your hair away from your face, your chin trembled as you tried to talk to the one person who made your heart run like a racehorse.

“and i was so scared, but i should have never lied to you or myself just because i was scared,” he listened, patient as ever, but you saw his eyes go red and the way his nose twitched with a sniff.

“but why were you scared? it’s just me,” he laughed, as if he wasn’t the most extraordinary person ever, as if everything he spoke didn’t carry a bit of magic, as if he wasn’t magic himself.

“i was scared because,” you swallowed, can you say it out loud?

something about the rain made everything look so beautiful, so pure, so vulnerable but it made your heart feel so heavy, feel so filled with dread that it might burst, because if he didn’t believe you, if he laughed and walked away, you wouldn’t know how to live with yourself.

his hand snaked up your arm and something tender floated in the air around you, something that made you feel so close to namjoon, something that felt so right. but you weren't speaking a word, nor were you touching him, but you were in front of him and he was in front of you, and just like this, you felt as if someone had laid you bare.

“when i hold me, it's imperfect, i don't touch all of me and that's fine, it's just me, but if i don't hold you perfectly, the way you deserve, i might just die from guilt,” you breathed out, chin trembling again and namjoon held your jaw, and your eyes fell close.

“if i hurt you, i can never come back from it because you’re a good person, you don’t hesitate to say things like, ‘i miss you’ or ‘i saw this and i thought of you’, but those things scare me, i’ve never said them before.”

“but?” he mused, pushing your hair behind your ear and you curled into his palm, leaning your entire face on it.

you laughed, it wasn’t happy, it wasn’t sad, it was just a sound, “but i don’t know to live without you, i need you, i miss you even when you’re away for a second, i think of you in every movie i watch and i see you in some or the other character in every book i read, i see you everywhere in my life and i need you in it.”

“my life isn’t mine without you, i love you.” you pleaded.

and everything was silent for a second, he looked at you, you looked at him, you felt his skin become yours again, you felt the relief flooding in you but you also felt desperate to hear his voice.

“at some point, you’re going to need someone to hold you, the right way i mean” namjoon spoke finally, and you nodded, grabbing onto his shirt, “it needs to be you.”

namjoon’s never been able to deny you of anything at all so he says, “it will be me. now, come here,” he pulled on your arm until you fell on his chest and the rest of the world fell into place for you, you gripped onto him as if someone was going to take him away and namjoon laughed, kissing your forehead, which sent a numbing tingle all over your body.

“i love you too.” it felt right, you didn’t want to run away and take back everything you said, you wanted to hear him say it again and again, you wanted to say it again and again.

being close to someone is a fickle thing.

a person who knows everything about you, may not feel close.

but a person who tries to know you, may feel close.

and namjoon was so close that it didn’t make sense, like many stories you’ve read in your life, but it didn’t have to.

because from now on, he was you, and you were him.

and from now on, you and him, are the magical story that you would tell to everyone else.

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system-of-a-feather · 10 months

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(Disclaimer: this post was written in two parts, the first half was done the day before but not posted cause I didnt feel it was a complete thought, the second half was added after. I did not edit or touch the first half as I like to keep space for the thoughts of myself as they were; i also have passive chronic amnesia so Im not 100% sure if everything is on the same page; regardless that is just context)

Honestly, I think the thing that is important to keep in mind when interacting with syscourse - or specifically for us cause the only one we really care about is the tulpa discourse - is that you are never going to force or change anyone's mind who is so set that they are sitting on tumblr and pulling the dumbest arguments out of their ass to support their claims and I do think those that spend their time arguing with @/sophieinwonderland and @/cambriancrew - while honestly doing the dirty work no one wants to do by balancing out their bullshit posting so mad respect - are largely wasting their time if they do ever think that a mind will be changed.

The only reason to ever engage or talk about the stuff they (and the clique that actually buys into those arguments) talk about is solely to make an example out of how incredibly deep their interalized racism and just disregard for POC goes and honestly looking at them as anything other than a stubborn white person is putting more emotional energy than its worth.

Because genuinely, in a weird way and me doing what XIV calls "The Riku Thing" of looking at a really negative, annoying, and/or harmful thing and finding the bright side silverlining to it, I do kind of appreciate how astonishingly White TM they are because their unapologetic and loud nature makes a really big spectacle for a lot of people who otherwise would not understand how bad certain issues are look and go "what the fuck" and in its own way, it brings good publicity to the issues AAPI and eastern cultures go through in a western and white predominant area.

AAPI issues often go under the radar and are disregarded due to a number of reasons, but honestly? This is the most I've ever seen people actually talk about how white people take advantage of eastern and Asian cultures (relative to the size of the community in question) save for the brief blip of when Stop Asian Hate got loud during COVID where sinophobia blasted up and a bit surrounding Cyberpunk as a genre when Cyberpunk 2077 came out.

In that regard, I'm kinda glad they are so loudly racist and White TM about AAPI cultures. It makes for good publicity and awareness by being the example of just the Usual Bullshit and it starts better conversations. I'd honestly prefer a loud bigot to a quiet insidious one cause the loud ones at least can serve part of a message and be ignored.

Anyhow, this is all just to say that bigots will be bigots and you can argue with them all you want and call them truthful statements like "bigots" and "racist" but thats about all you can do to really control their behavior. Those balancing out their bullshit arguments, mad props - I could never cause that shit is too toxic and too much of an investment, but it is respectable work. (insert "it aint much but its honest work" meme at yall)

---(cut between original thoughts and the added bit)---

That said, I'll just say it as the fact that it is, those two and those that follow their rhetoric do not care at all about AAPI individuals and are just racist. We don't have to debate it and it's honestly not up for debate and while we could put our energy to trying to tear down their following and make them shut up, in a world where the KKK still exists and thrives, its an unlikely and futile of a goal to try ti achieve.

Instead its best imo to treat them like the public case study of white and western abuses to AAPI culture, particularly since time and time again they redisplay some of the most classic and frequently used techniques white and western individuals do to try to excuse their shit.

If you wouldn't give a person arguing with any other loud and proud bigot, its best to just accept that bigots be bigots and rather than banging your head against a wall, put it up for display on the museum wall as a means of education and awareness.

Theres no point in talking to bigots about how they are bigotted. There is, however, a point to displaying it for those less effected and usually not given the opportunity to sed it in full get a much closer look at some of the shit we deal with

I like to think that while a lot of white and western people suck, that a lot of them genuinely are trying their best with the limited awareness, access, and understanding that they have.

I dont feel as though I would be correct calling them and bigots a "small minority", but I'd like to think they aren't the majority and I honestly appreciate those willing to learn and better understand and so ya know? Whats a better way to explain it than with a live dancing monkey that loudly and proudly displays the behaviors in question for all to see.

Anyhow, I digress. Take this as you will. I am just throwing some insight and personal thoughts about specific users in hopes that some people who might be overly stressed about it might find a little more peace moderating the topic

#alter: riku #syscourse #syscourse tw #discourse #discourse tw #sophiecourse #racism #racism tw #riku rambles #anti-tulpa #tulpa tw #anti-tulpa terminology

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insharana · 2 months

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BOOK REVIEW - VERITY by COLLEEN HOOVER

WHOSE TRUTH IS THE LIE: VERITY "Verity" is a book that's really exciting and mysterious. It's about people and their minds, making readers wonder who they really are.it is a fictional book. The theme is all about secrets, trust, and how things might not be as they seem to be. It is a Set up against a backdrop of suspense and mystery, this book intricately weaves a tale of unexpected twists and turns, keeping readers thoroughly engaged till the very end. People who love stories that keep them guessing will enjoy this book. It's full of surprises and makes readers think about how past affects choices. Reading Variety will keep one hooked and thinking even after it is finished reading.

Colleen Hoover usually writes love stories or books for younger readers where the characters face tough situations and learn about life and relationships. Verity is different because it's not about romance. It's a suspenseful and scary book, unlike what she normally writes. Instead of focusing on love, it's about secrets and mysteries that keep readers guessing and investing their thoughts. At its core, the theme of Variety revolves around the complexity of human nature. It skilfully explores the real identity, trust, and the blurred lines between reality and illusion. Readers are taken on a journey where perceptions are challenged, and the characters whose personality is hidden which makes them enigmatic. This makes readers hard to differentiate between whose sides they should take. The story is easy to sink into, and difficult to put down. The story revolves around Verity's intense but selfish love for Jeremy her husband, leading to unexpected crimes. Her life with their twin daughters Chastin and harper and a small son Crew is a bit difficult for her to balance which further pushes the darker layers of the story. It touches on the impact of grief and loss, as both Lowen a struggling author and Jeremy grapple with the deaths of loved ones. It contains sudden tragedies whose true reasons could never been defined clearly, it’s all up to the readers, how they want to absorb the story as per there imagination. This departure from her traditional style demonstrates Hoover's versatility and skill in delivering a gripping story across diverse genres.

The book cover of Verity reflects the mysterious and suspenseful nature of the story, which by first sight may appear as something totally weird and meaningless but as I completed, I could connect with the hidden pictures and able to relate it with story. I was amazed how could I not notice the purpose of the cover, thoughtfulness in that could be clearly seen. Also, this book is self-published by author. As for the reading time, completing Verity might take around 10-12 hours, depending on one's reading pace. The mystery in the story stays super strong, and it shows how people have deep feelings, which is pretty cool. It handles difficult parts in a different way and talks about serious stuff in a really interesting way that keeps readers hooked. This book isn't like most others—it's special. It sticks in your mind even after you finish it, making you think about it and feel things for a long time. It's like having a special secret that keeps your thoughts busy and your feelings alive.

“Some families are lucky enough to never experience a single tragedy. But then there are those families that seem to have tragedies waiting on the back burner. What can go wrong, goes wrong. And then gets worse,” The book explores emotions like love, fear, and anger, which are feelings we all experience in our lives. It also delves into the complexities of human relationships, where people can be tricky and manipulate each other. In today's world, we often encounter situations where trust is questioned, and the lines between truth and lies can become blurred. "Verity" encourages us to think about why people behave the way they do and challenges us to question the hidden layers within ourselves and the world around us. It reflects the complexities of our own lives and relationships which we may have all around us and can experience in today’s world.

As a recommendation, "Verity" stands out as a must-read due to its gripping narrative, intricate plot twists, and the chilling exploration of psychological depths. Readers who enjoy suspenseful thrillers with a touch of mystery and psychological intrigue will find themselves engrossed in the pages of this book. It's particularly well-suited for those who appreciate stories that keep them guessing and challenge their perceptions of right and wrong. This book that delves into some darker themes and can be quite intense at times. So, if someone is sensitive to certain traumatic or heavy subjects, it might not be the best choice for them. It's always good to consider your own comfort level when choosing what to read. If you prefer lighter or more uplifting stories, there are plenty of other great options out there. It's all about finding what goes well with you and makes you feel good. So, keep that in mind when deciding whether or not to dive into Verity.

Different people might feel differently about this book. Some super good readers might say it's not really deep, but for people like me, who are just starting to read a lot, it could be awesome. However, I strongly feel that everyone should give this book a chance at least once. It's a special book that everyone should try out to see how they feel about it. It's like tasting something new—you never know if you like it until you give it a try. This book might be someone's favourite, while for others, it might not hit the spot. But the important thing is to give it a shot and see one can connect to this genre too, what you think. It's like taking different paths from your preference can sometimes, discover something amazing, and sometimes it's just not your thing. Verity is totally up to the reader to curve the imagination in their own way and decide whose truth is the lie ……

#Verity #Book review #Colleen Hoover

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sometimesrosy · 4 months

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There is something that truly frightens me these days that teens and up are very unfreaked out about these days and it makes my eyes saucer big in shock. I'm on plenty of reading forums where "readers" say they forget the novels they read the second they finish them. They aren't concerned at all about it and when anyone starts to question it they describe reading as just walking past 100's of paintings in an art gallery and only enjoying the paintings for the length of time it took to look at them. Am I just showing my age to think this is nuts? Wasting time to not remember a thing. Then also think they are winning at life to go through a hundred books a year like this?

So I have a different take on this.

Remember please that as an English major, English teacher and writer, I am invested in paying attention to literature. It's a deep pleasure to analyze and understand stories and poems and essays solidly.

Saying that... that's not the only reason to read or the only way to read.

You're allowed to read just for pleasure. Just for the wild ride of the book and not have to be able to critically analyze it when you're done.

You're also allowed to read for escapism. This world is way crazier than it used to be, and we used to think the world was crazy forty years ago. Kids often don't have a lot of control over their lives and reading is a way where they get to feel more in control and/or safe.

When I was a teenager, I didn't read a hundred books a year. I read, oh, I'm guessing, four to five hundred books a year. I read 1-3 books A DAY.

Why?

One. I had a two hour commute both ways. Two. I didn't have money so reading was my entertainment. Three. I only had like seven tv channels, no streaming, no social media etc. And four, and the main reason. Reading was my coping strategy to deal with a difficult, scary and sometimes dangerous homelife.

Do I remember all the books I read as a teen? Absolutely not. I like to say that those books went into "the soup," and they certainly did. I don't remember them for particular narratives, but I remember general conventions, patterns, tropes, structures, timings, moods, themes, cultural expectations, etc. I credit that intense reading period with making me a writer. Reading became as natural as BREATHING.

Do you remember every breath you take? No, of course not.

Admittedly, it turns out that I have adhd, and that sort of hyperlexia is a trait of adhd and autism, so there's a reason for it. I'm not normal and never have been. But you're looking at reading patterns here that aren't normal either.

So these kids are addicted to books.

GREAT! Do you know what other kinds of things kids COULD be addicted to? So many bad things. Let them have their speed reading. Let them do PJO or their ACOTAR or their fanfics. I don't know what kids are reading today.

Reading is PRESCRIPTIVE. People read for what they need and what you may need-- a wider view of the world or intellectual stimulation or a hit of beautiful language-- may not be what these kids are reading for-- escapism, anxiety, entertainment. And neither of those reading needs are wrong.

I read like those kids when I was in high school. And I was one of the only ones I knew who did read that much. I think it's good that reading is cool because it wasn't in the 80s. BUT after I did that 6 year sff binge, I went to college and got a degree in English, and I did NOT read that much anymore. I read more slowly and wrote essays and analyzed books and chose new genres and talked about books and remembered quotes and all that. And I read more slowly for, oh, twenty years, until PTSD, ADHD, anxiety, chronic illness and stress got to me. And then I started binge reading again. Now the genre guarantees a happy ending to combat the anxiety, and it's non-intellectually demanding so my ADHD brain can actually rest instead of going a mile a minute as it does when I don't have something occupying it.

I read 224 books this year and I absolutely can't remember them all. I have to keep a log with titles and authors and ratings and summaries so I can remember which ones I liked best. I reread those, and the second (and third and fourth) read helps me remember the plot and characters and everything else. A close reading is different for me than an entertainment read. My business is words, so when I read for entertainment I don't fuss.

So here's what I'm saying. Reading is good even if you think they aren't reading right. There is no 'right' for reading. If they're just reading for escapism, that's fine. If it's fostering a true love of books that might become a career, that's great. If they're reading as a coping strategy. Leave them alone unless you're a therapist and can help them out.

Another possibility you might want to consider is that it's your questions that are making their brains go blank. A lot of people have trouble answering direct questions like that. And if they actually sat and thought about the story or characters and kind of unfolded it from that direction, would actually remember. By 'a lot of people' I mean me. My adhd brain doesn't remember like that. But if I go back to my log and look at my summary, the narrative will come back to me.

#reading #english teacher #hyperlexia #leave those kids alone #yutes today

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bookandcover · 10 months

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It took me far too long to read this book (nearly 7 months, as I put it down for months and came back to it), which is tragic because the ending was brilliant. There were complex details that I was struggling to piece together from the early sections of the book, as I picked it up again, but—like all good murder mysteries, which is this truly, at the heart—the unfolding and explaining of what was “really going on” the whole time helped me to reconstruct the plot across time and my own memory.

I asked for this book as a gift from my dad for Christmas (he always wants a few suggestions) because I’d read Embassytown a few years back and loved it. I’d found it memorable, and strange, and resistant to my assumptions about what fiction is and does. The City and The City had similar strengths, namely China Mieville’s familiarity with linguistics, metaphysics, and genre conventions that allow him to create an original and culturally-textured world. In this book, there were more things that looked familiar (i.e. the detective genre and the murder mystery plot structure), but, brilliantly, these familiarities seemed to exist to allow readers to examine, question, and challenge them.

Plot spoilers below!!

Police Inspector Tyador Borlú becomes, by the end of the novel, both criminal and investigator. He describes as he arrests Bowden with Breach’s authority that the crime (a Breach) he is still investigating, that he is still gathering relevant evidence for, is his own. In addition to the crime of his Breach, Borlú solves the case he has been on since the very beginning of the novel (the murder of a young woman whose body was dumped in his district). We readers hoped at many points for the explanation of the death of Mahalia, but so much happens in the middle of the novel—so much expansion into international intrigue—as to almost obscure this central mystery, so that when the murderer finally was revealed, I felt the added layer of shock at my realization that, of course, that was what we’d been looking for all along.

Above and beyond clever genre commentary and the metaphysical complexity at the heart of the Besźel-Ul Qoma relationship (this seems to expand in twists and turns, giving us Breach and Orciny), a big draw of this book was the actual emotional investment I developed for these characters. This surprised me. It's often not the draw of a crime procedural. We’re here for the clever plotting, the rationalism, the detailed hints dropped along the way, the joy of the conventions and the breaking of them…on top of that, Borlú is a fairly stoic figure. He doesn’t seem to be someone with heroic qualities at first, just that logical no-nonsense rationalism, and an unflagging commitment to the truth that makes him a good vehicle for crime procedurals. “Vehicle” is the right word; his characterization is secondary to carrying us through the plot. Little time is directly spent on Borlú’s inner life or on his relationships, and yet these show up, blossoming like flowers pushing through cracks in urban pavements. Borlú is rational, stubborn, and committed…and curious, confident, matter-of-fact, and incredibly able to motivate others to act, to bend the rules. He inspires incredible trust. We want him to win. His secondary cast of characters are as matter-of-factly drawn. Corwi, his second in Besźel, is competent, young, and a bit exasperated with Borlú’s willingness to color outside the lines. Little is made of her gender; she just does her job, and Borlú relies on her, trusts her at every turn. There is never any “romance” between them, but I felt their deep bond, something both loving and beyond love, prevalent in their belief in each other.

Borlú travels to Ul Qoma and, over the middle section of the novel, forms another partnership like this, which feels like it isn’t the focus of the book and yet is, at the same time, somehow deeply the focus. Dhatt is, in temperament, far more different from Borlú. Dhatt’s dramatic, grandiose, sarcastic, quick to complain and just as quick to act, larger than life, and bombastic in a way that overshadows his high skillset. Quietly, naturally, Borlú and Dhatt come to trust each other with information and then to trust each other with their lives. Just like with Corwi, not much is made of their friendship and bond; it simply is, and in this simplicity it is a huge and pivotal part of this novel. Like with Corwi, there is never any “romance” between them, but Borlú’s deep connections with Dhatt and Corwi eclipse his stated romantic connections with Sariska and Biszaya (deeply respected as individual women, but inherently separate from the most central aspect of who Borlú is, which is his job). This difference is echoed in the goodbyes at the end of the novel, as Borlú binds his two romantic loves farewell with letters—kind, vague—and appears to both Dhatt and Corwi, without spoken words, with a gesture (a wave, a tipped cup) of respect, of “I see you.” And true seeing is the hardest thing to do in the worlds of Besźel and Ul Qoma.

My favorite scene of the entire book was when Borlú went to capture Bowden, walking between the cities, in neither of them in his resistance to adopting the features or mannerisms of either. As Borlú is also uniquely able to inhabit this in-between space at this point of the book, he is the one who is able to corner—and tempt—Bowden into Breach with him. As he stalks Bowden, Dhatt closes in in Ul Qoma and Corwi closes in in Besźel. It’s such a wonderful and poignant image that Borlú is able to call upon his two partners, in two parallel worlds, and both answer his summons, following Bowden and watching for a misstep into their world to issue an arrest, keeping Borlú updated on his whereabouts as Borlú hurries to the scene. Dhatt and Corwi—such different characters in temperament and style, yet so similar in their powerful collaboration with Borlú—seem to embody their cities in this moment, as they walk along the same street (yet two different streets), physically so close and metaphysically so distant, both unseeing each other, both wholly contained within their own worlds, both fully present for their half of the task to which they’ve been summoned, like a strange mirror image of each other. Brilliant.

The other scene from this book that will stay with me most powerfully—in addition to the pervasive texture throughout this book, the topographical structure of the city and the city, the descriptions of cross-hatching and the architectural, cultural, linguistic, and human inter-weaving of Besźel and Ul Qoma—is the scene of Yolanda and Bowden’s attempted border crossing. This scene was so spatially clear (spatial clarity being something that is, unsurprisingly, a central tenant of the writing and imagery of this novel) as Dhatt and Yolanda moved through the check point and Borlú moved back through the lines of travelers to deal with Bowden…and all the way through the check point, in the distance, Corwi was already visible, waiting, ready as she was trusted to be. And along the long perfect line of sight, Yorjavic could take his precise aim and shoot. After these shots, Borlú follows him—seeing enough, seeing out of the corners of his eyes—to take the shot in turn that is Breach, that changes his life forever.

There were several aspects of the resolution of this novel that feel like “poetic justice,” by which I mean well-placed solving of the puzzles, but also simply satisfying explanations of what occurred, satisfying in their humanness, in their fundamental familiarity as worldly truths. One such resolution (MAJOR PLOT SPOILER!!) was the explanation of Bowden’s motives for murdering Mahalia, his brilliant student and prodigy. Bowden kills Mahalia when she uncovers the truth of his deception, not to call him out, but through her serious and consistent scholarship. She is not seeking to debunk him, simply to find the answers to question she believed they both engaged with. “She crushed him without guile or bile” (p. 300). That is the most powerful defeat, and, of course, it’s the one where the woman ends up dead. She was smarter than him and she wasn’t even trying to be. It’s an essential, real world point at the center of this novel that a brilliant woman ends up dead…not even for knowing too much, but for being so smart as the see through layers and layers of deception to the truth. This is the key theme of novel: revealing or uncovering the truth, of seeing, and not being able to unsee. It is not lost on me—or clever China Miéville—that this seeing results in two deaths, and they are those of the two female characters who come to see, who die at the hands of men who also see, but who hold the power. In this sense, and more literally, this is also, in so many ways, a drama of academia (yes, that can end up with a murder, absolutely). In an academic space with a seasoned, yet questioned and ridiculed senior faculty, and a young brilliant protégé, these two academics clash over an academic question, seeking and obscuring truth in their field.

Another such “poetic justice” was the inevitability of Borlú’s life with Breach, the understanding of which seems to sneak up on him. It is not that Beach would hold him against his will, he comes to realize, it’s simply that it’s impossible for him to return to his old life. “You’ll never unsee again” (p. 310), Ashil tells him. Ashil—with his willful careening off the Breach path to following Borlú’s ideas—seems poised late in the novel to form a kind of trifecta of work partners (across three different worlds) with Corwi and Dhatt. Once Borlú has Breached, and sent time with Breach, his eyes have been newly opened, differently opened, and he can’t unsee, he can’t un-know. To come to know something changes us, like the escape from Plato’s cave, like Eve in the Garden of Eden, a kind of fall or state shift, from which there is no going back. All the work of the duality of Besźel and Ul Qoma is done by every citizen of both countries in every moment as they do the work of unseeing, as they exist in a state of mind that allows them to unseen. Yes, this division is enforced by Breach, but it is not possible without this constant mindset of separation. For Borlú, this mindset has closed to him forever. Yet, Borlú was someone, Ashil seems to indicate, that Breach hoped to receive. Breach needs Borlú and his unique approach, his logic, his trust in humans, and his new ways of doing things. He’s an investigator and to be Breach, his way of being Breach, is the ultimate investigation, as he says, “not to uphold the law, or another law, but to maintain the skin that keeps law in place. Two laws in two places, in fact” (p. 312). This progression of Borlú’s life and career is a kind of poetic justice.

The last fifty pages were a brilliant wrap-up, right down to the final line of the book, which beautifully shifted (brought into focus) the title—love that! The ending did make me immediately want to re-read the book, as I feel this is a book with many perfectly-placed details, such that re-reading could lend itself to fun drawing of connections and lines of logic. There were events early on for which it was hard to grasp the full ramifications—particularly the Oversight Committee with council members from both cities, which Borlú seeks out, hoping to get them to invoke Breach, but, of course, it is Buric on this committee who is involved in the falsification of Orciny in order to smuggle artifacts and, in this, he must carefully avoid Breach, although no one is at Bowden’s level in terms of both duplicity and avoidance of Breach (another poetic justice that he should willingly choose this in the end…) It is our curiosity, our seeing and knowing, that sends us down a path which we cannot reverse…for better or for worse, into a state of increasing complexity, in which we have to inhabit overlapping truths: the city and the city.

#the city and the city #china mieville #science fiction #good reads #memorable reads

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ohmybitna · 1 year

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↳ 8 Shows To Get To Know Me

i was tagged by @sorrowfulliming and @heesulovebot thank you both so much, I had a lot of fun doing this list! ❤️ I tried to choose some shows that have had kind of played a significant role in my life in one way or another, maybe you'll learn a bit more about me through this idk

one tree hill (2003 - 2012) i feel like this one is the most important show if you want to know me. It's half of my personality. I grew up with this show and all of these characters mean the absolute world to me, I relate to them on a deep level and I've rewatched all 9 seasons of this so many times that if you tell me a quote from the show I can tell you who said it and in what context and season (maybe even episode) it was said. It's probably the best teen drama ever made and except for lack of representation (which i can excuse to some extent because it started airing in the early 00s) this is really something everyone can and should watch. Nothing beats the friendships in this show. I'm still searching for the brooke & haley to my peyton tbh

the vampire diaries (2009 - 2017) this show is very special to me because I started learning english more intensely and on my own outside of school because I couldn't wait until they were showing the eps with german dub half a year after they originally aired. I had to wait 4 years until the show made stefan & caroline a couple and no other ship has ever come close to how I felt (and still feel) about them. best friends to lovers will always get me and they did it so well. we do not talk about anything after 7x05, the show ended there for me tyvm. they were by far the best part of the show for me since I dislike a lot of the decisions the show made a lot of the time. but they were the reason I created a tumblr account back in 2015 that I've since forgot the name and password for 😂 it was an account dedicated to making icons for tvd. ugh i miss shows with multiple seasons and 24 eps for each season

blueming (2021) this bl drama is always gonna be important to me since it made me decide to choose film as the thing I want to major in. I got really into independent movies after watching blueming because the cinematography of it astounded me and I wanted to learn more about it and how to create beautiful shots like those in the drama myself. I also rewatch it frequently. siwon is very dear to me.

taxi driver (2021 - 2023) i debated if i should put this or the devil judge/flower of evil/happiness here because i love them all dearly and they're all tied for my fav kdramas of all time but this one was the first kdrama i watched weekly as it aired and I was so obsessed with it and its cases and characters. i love darker themes and case-by-case dramas, it's my favorite genre when it comes to korean shows. kim doki is such a dear character to me and i love the way jehoon plays him. words can't describe how happy i am that it's back on my screen and just as good as it always was. (plus pyo yejin is one of my biggest celebrity crushes i love her sm)

the haunting of hill house (2018) one of the greatest shows ever made and imo the best of its genre. ep 6 of this show especially impressed me so much because it just consists of multiple one-shots. i love mike flanagan, he's my favorite director and if you're into psychological horror i more than recommend watching this and midnight mass because they're both masterpieces. mike has this way of connecting horror and sadness and he does it so so well. I could write essays about his filmmaking and he's my biggest inspiration when it comes to film.

my engineer (2020) this was the first bl I was really invested in, I even bought tickets to the online fanmeeting which i usually never do for anything. these characters and actors really helped me get through the lockdowns in 2020. one of the few bls where they managed to give everyone their fair screen time and made everyone's story enjoyable to watch. also very important part of why i loved watching it was the lack of fanservice they made the actors do and that we got them all in one room reacting to every episode together. it was the best and i wish more shows would do it.

light on me (2021) oh what a show. even though I don't like the ending and I think the last episode had some continuity issues and felt like a second thought in some ways I thorougly enjoyed the ride this drama took me on. the runtime allowed for the show to explore its characters well and made us able to connect with them. i miss that for newer shows a lot. shin daon is and probably will always be my favorite k-bl character, he felt so real and I could see an old version of myself in him. he deserved a lot better and I hope he's off to college living his best life, he deserves it.

one day at a time (2017 - 2020) let me just say that I am NOT a sitcom enjoyer. shows that are targeted to make me laugh usually don't and I get bored early on because I don't get the appeal. nothing against these shows, they just don't speak to me. HOWEVER odaat is a huge exception because I was hooked to the well-balanced use of humor and deep conversations and topics portrayed in this show. plus it also made me laugh!! and sometimes also cry both in the span of 5 minutes. these characters have a special place in my heart. elena halped me a lot in my journey of self-discovery and I loved the way the show portrayed her journey.

bonus: (i know this technically makes it 9 but i didn't know where to put it)

wish you (2021) I'm adding this as well but extra since I only ever watch the movie version of it. it's imo the only kbl that works as a movie. even though not a lot of people love this, it is my most rewatched k-bl (and I think bl in general). I adore Sang Yi, he's a lot like me and watching him be an awkward mess in front of his crush and idol is very cute to watch. the OST for this show is also so good i listen to it all of the time.

i will tag @ghostvalleymasters i hope you haven't done this yet :)

#tag game #about me #i loved making this list #sorry that it took me almost a week you guys #tagged

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koreandragon · 2 years

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What if they're playing us in tomorrow and he's not her husband or is instead her second husband??? I don't trust drama writers anymore. Also this should've been the story like this relationship and romance and angst should've been the main thing or at least gotten more than 2 minutes every episode lmfao. I'm rewatching some dramas and reflecting on some tropes they seem to love and omg for a medium that has lived and survived thanks to romance they sure do love to shit on it constantly, the BS they pulled with 2521 that post that was like a north Korean and south Korean and a goblin and a human etc found a way to be together but a reporter and a fencer couldn't adkfjjfj yikes. Like I'm so so tired of the EP 12 to 15 break up for no other reason than we need people to keep watching until ep 16, it always always undermines the entire relationship we're supposed to believe is true love~~~ I want ROMANCE back, yearning and fighting for each other against all odds and desperate hugs and kisses and longing and just all consuming love and passion I'm tired where are my princess man like dramas where she put a sword to her throat and stayed like that for a day promising to kill herself the moment her father killed her lover, my dramas like queen in hyuns man where they fought time and space and 3 different timelines and she felt his pain with 300 f*cking years between them. It's like they forgot how to write a good love story and all its different complex moving parts. With the world getting shittier and shittier we need these kind of stories now more than ever and yet they seem to be disappearing all together and I thought I only had to worry about western media looking down on romance but it seems like the tide has shifted in Korea too unfortunately.

oof go off anon... honestly it really does feel like it's been a while since we've seen a truly angsty and all sweeping romance. i would count doom at your service as a really good one though, i mean they were both ready to die for the other and found each other over and over again, even when fate didn't want them to. we need more like this.

i don't believe they're duping us tho like i'm pretty sure they've gone too far to turn back now so he has to be her husband?? and yes i would much rather have their story be the main focus of the drama instead of something that's on the back burner all the time, it's like they accidentally create this perfect love story with past lives and red threads and suicide and finding each other again despite all odds then they decide to just have that as a supporting story line. this is a whole drama material, i would watch 16 episodes of this story. everyone watching this is more invested in their romance than the actual drama and it's odd that despite being a main character goo ryeon's story is so sidelined.

i don’t even wanna talk about 2521 cause that was a whole disaster i absolutely hated it like it was actually deeply upsetting and deminished the whole show. you could say ‘well but this show was about friendship and coming of age and etc’ no this was a romance drama about two people falling in love, that was THE MAIN THEME, that was the main story and at the end they went ‘actually nevermind’ and just??? they never heard from each other again?? make it make sense. fucking sick of plot twist and diverting viewer’s expectations and essentially betraying your viewers because this is not what they signed up for. fuck that writer honestly

the dramas you mentioned are both sageuks or fusions that usually tend to be more dramatic and deep but i can't really speak on this genre now as i don't really watch them so idk the situation about those romances.

i don't know if it's the globalization of kdramas but there really seems to be less of these earth shattering romances nowadays. i'm scared to bring up mr queen but if you don't look at the ending, the whole appeal of that show was that these two met through time and space, being from different times, being different sexes and their love story was so beautiful and so fullfilling, it had me glued to the screen for months...when writers realize that romances bring in more viewers i will finally know peace.

#ask #anonymous

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constantviewings · 1 year

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The TV Show Trials - Black Mirror

Black Mirror is a British anthology television series created by Charlie Brooker. Individual episodes explore a diversity of genres, but most are set in near-future dystopias with sci-fi technology.

Is this weeks late? Yes. Do I care? No. Is it even finished? Also, no; but I will update this as I watch what’s left. For this review I decided to switch it up a little bit, I’ve watched the majority of Black Mirror before so instead of just reviewing every episode; I’m ranking them from worst to best.

The Waldo Moment

A failed comedian who voices a popular cartoon bear named Waldo finds himself mixing in politics when TV executives want Waldo to run for office.

It’s very difficult to make audiences care about fictional, local bi-elections and this episode is definitive proof of that. This episode is a major let-down not only as a season finale but being in-between the powerhouses of White Bear and White Christmas. Overall, it’s just a bad episode...

The Entire History of You

In the near future, everyone has access to a memory implant that records everything they do, see and hear. You need never forget a face again - but is that always a good thing?

While the concept is solid, and provides the baseline of technology going forward, the episode itself is too slow to justify its 50 minute runtime. While the stakes feel high, I’m not invested enough in the relationship to feel bad at its demise. Also, I think Charlie Brookers takeaway is bullshit, he thinks it’s Liam’s fault for looking for information that will upset him and that Claire just has ‘secrets’ and ‘still loves him’… she cheated on him while they were trying to have a baby! She’s just as bad as he is.

Men Against Fire

Future soldiers Stripe and Raiman must protect frightened villagers from an infestation of vicious feral mutants.

While not boring, I don’t really care for action and war heavy narratives, the message redeems this episode a lot for me. The idea of war propaganda dehumanising the ‘enemy’ to make it easier to kill them or wish for their death is portrayed to its extreme here.

Be Right Back

After learning about a new service that lets people stay in touch with the deceased, a lonely, grieving Martha reconnects with her late lover.

Another slow episode, but this is better than The Entire History of You because it focuses solely on the relationship and the aftermath of Ash’s death. Hayley Atwell and Domhnall Gleeson absolutely kill it as Martha and Ash; but can we expect any less from them?

Arkangel

After nearly losing her daughter, a mother invests in a new technology that allows her to keep track of her.

I know this episode is pretty divisive and, while I don’t find it particularly entertaining, the concept and discussion that it prompts is worth having. Like, is the Arkangel moral, does some of the footage count as CP, if giving someone emergency contraception against their will a human rights violation? It’s just unfortunate that the discussion surrounding the episode is more entertaining than the episode itself.

Playtest

An American traveler short on cash signs up to test a revolutionary new gaming system, but soon can't tell where the hot game ends and reality begins.

I feel like my reviews are already getting bad, and we’re only six episodes deep… Anyway, this episode is pretty scary, so it does its job as the sole horror episode of the series.

Fifteen Million Merits

In a world where people's lives consist of riding exercise bikes to gain credits, Bing tries to help a woman get on to a singing competition show.

Okay, time to get a little controversial. I think this episode is good, but not great. Daniel Kaluuya is phenomenal, and you can really see how far he’s come while also retaining those trademarks of his performances; especially with his eyes. My problem mainly lies in that it’s only really entertaining in the last half; but I don’t know what I would cut to make it shorter…

Hated in the Nation

In near-future London, police detective Karin Parke, and her tech-savvy sidekick Blue, investigate a string of mysterious deaths with a sinister link to social media.

Once again, another good episode, it’s just too long. I think it’s done a massive disservice by simply being known as ‘the killer bee episode’ because it’s so much more than the bees; but not much more to impress me.

Hang the DJ

Paired up by a dating program that puts an expiration date on all relationships, Frank and Amy soon begin to question the system's logic.

This episode and the next one are pretty evenly matched, I just like this one slightly less. This is mostly because the episode lags in the middle compared to the beginning and end.

San Junipero

When Yorkie and Kelly visit San Junipero, a fun-loving beach town full of surf, sun and sex, their lives are changed.

It’s just a good episode… can you tell I’m getting sick of writing these reviews?

Nosedive

A woman desperate to boost her social media score hits the jackpot when she's invited to a swanky wedding, but the trip doesn't go as planned.

I think this episode is great, especially as the introduction to this ‘new’ phase of Black Mirror on Netflix. Bryce Dallas Howard knocks it out of the park and the concept is great; espacially because it isn’t too dissimilar to how we currently live.

Crocodile

An insurance agent investigates a minor traffic incident using a device that manifests peoples' memories, but one of her witnesses has something to hide.

This is just fucking grim, isn’t it? While this episode is insanely devistating, that’s one of the reasons I rank it so highly, especially because it isn’t afraid for it’s main character to just be an awful and selfish person with no redemption. It’s really great to see.

Black Museum

A woman enters the Black Museum, where the proprietor tells his stories relating to the artifacts.

Where this episode’s strength is in the way they tie each story to each other. It could come across as a slap-dash clip show to fill out the season but those connections in the form of Rolo Hayes takes it beyond into being a great episode.

USS Callister

Capt. Robert Daly presides over his crew with wisdom and courage. But a new recruit will soon discover nothing on this spaceship is what it seems.

I’m going to be completely honest and admit that I was dreading re-watching this episode as I didn’t like it the first time around; but I can confindently say my opinion has changed. It’s way funnier than I had remembered it and Cristin Milioti does a phenomenal job, a stand out scene being the one in the lake.

The National Anthem

Prime Minister Michael Callow faces a shocking dilemma when Princess Susannah, a much-loved member of the Royal Family, is kidnapped.

We all knew this was coming but I bet you weren’t expecting to see it in my top five, were you? I could go on for eons about how this (and the rest of my top five) perfectly encapsulate the soul of Black Mirror as commentary on technology, polotics, and interpersonal conflicts; but you don’t want to hear that, you want to hear my defence. I think this episode is the perfect episode to start the show with, it’s shocking and a bit gross but it hooks you so quickly that you can’t help but watch ‘til the end. And let’s be honest, it’s exactly how society would react to this situation...

White Bear

Victoria wakes up and cannot remember anything about her life. Everyone she encounters refuses to communicate with her, and they all seem to know something she doesn't. But what?

You don’t need me to tell you how good this episode is, the rest of the internet can do that for me...

White Christmas

Three interconnected tales of technology run amok during the Christmas season are told by two men at a remote outpost in a frozen wilderness.

This is another episode where the internet can tell you how great it is, so I want to focus on something different. Like The Entire History of You, I don’t agree with Brooker’s interpretation of the conflict, sure Joe doesn’t seem like the best guy but his partner cheated on him and had another man’s child while blocking him and refusing to work things out like an adult. And while he may be an unreliable narrator, when you don’t give me anything to hint at the reality, I’ve got no choice but to believe the narrator...

Shut Up and Dance

When withdrawn Kenny stumbles headlong into an online trap, he is quickly forced into an uneasy alliance with shifty Hector, both at the mercy of persons unknown.

I’m sure you saw this coming after seeing where I put The National Anthem... I love this episode and and the way it draws you in to care about Kenny until you start thinking ‘the video’s pretty bad, but surely it’s not wirth all this right?’ all the way up to dropping the bombshell on what he was actually doing. And, even on rewatch, that reveal still makes me unbeleivably nauseous.

#The TV Show Trials #Black Mirror

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quoteablebooks · 2 years

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Genre: Fiction, Historical Fiction,

Rating: 5 out of 5 stars

Trigger Warning: Rape, War, Antisemitism, Child death, Miscarriage, Sexual assault, Rape, Cancer

Summary:

Despite their differences, sisters Vianne and Isabelle have always been close. Younger, bolder Isabelle lives in Paris while Vianne is content with life in the French countryside with her husband Antoine and their daughter. But when the Second World War strikes, Antoine is sent off to fight and Vianne finds herself isolated so Isabelle is sent by their father to help her. As the war progresses, the sisters' relationship and strength are tested. With life changing in unbelievably horrific ways, Vianne and Isabelle will find themselves facing frightening situations and responding in ways they never thought possible as bravery and resistance take different forms in each of their actions.

*Opinions*

You might think that is an exaggeration when I tell you that I have never heard anyone say anything bad about this book (until I came to look at reviews, obviously). However, from my coworkers to a random woman I started talking to at a bar one night, everyone recommended this book very highly. So, I did the only thing I could do, I requested it from the library and waited forever and a year for the hold to come in. I attempted to lower my expectations because it is very rare that a book that is so highly recommended ever lives up to the hype. Then I cried through the last 100 pages of the novel because I was so invested in the characters and their story. The tale of the Rossignol family is going to stay with me for a long time and I am probably going to start recommending it myself, though with some caveats. One such caveat is that there are trigger warnings for just about everything given that it spans the length of World War II in occupied France, so be aware of those before picking up the novel.

Now before I get into any serious analysis, I have a huge bone to pick with the summary of this novel. In fact, it is the very first sentence of the summary: “Despite their differences, sisters Vianne and Isabelle have always been close.” No, no they are not, that is kind of the whole point of the novel. While the two sisters always loved one another, they are not close until near the end of the novel when they are both adults. Adults who have lived through a war and survived it in their own ways, sometimes hating the other for how they chose to survive. I had to go back and read that sentence multiple times as I went through the first 200 pages of the novel wondering if I had read it wrong. I had not, it was just not correct. It is such a small thing, but it annoys me to no end.

Speaking of the sisters, this novel is a character study of how they and their relationship change through the horrors of an occupied country at war faces. I’ll admit that it took me a while to warm up to both of the sisters, Vianne in so much denial and wanting to just do what she is told to avoid trouble for me to like her at the beginning, and Isabelle being so rash that she was constantly putting herself and everyone around her in danger which annoyed me to no end. Even with these frustrations though, I understand why they were acting that way, I just didn’t like them at first. Yet, as the occupation and war go on, they both change and take on new facets of personality to survive everything that they have to endure while also attempting, in their own ways, to protect those around them.

This story, at its core, is a story about love and grief. It starts with the love that both sisters had for their mother and father and how the loss of both of them, in different ways, shaped them into the codependent and rash young women they became. Yet, I never feel as if this novel goes too far into the deep despair that it could be classified as excessive given the time period in which it was set. Instead, Hannah focused on the resilience of these women, and all of France, in the face of so much loss and horror. She also focuses on every type of love that humans can experience, familial, platonic, and romantic. However, even these loves are quiet and subtle, and for the most part, believable. I do have some issues with Isabelle’s absolute love and devotion for Gaëtan Dubois, but I can overlook that with all the other things that I love about this novel. Hannah shows that grief and love shape us, but it also sometimes gives people the needed courage and resilience to continue.

I find this to be a very slow-paced story, a quiet story with flashes of brutality and fear before crescendoing at the horrors that personally visit Vianne and Isabelle near the end of the war. There is tension throughout the novel, always in the background, building, and building. Isabelle and Vianne were lucky so many times that the reader knows that it is going to run out eventually. However, Hannah waits until the reader is so invested in these characters that the brutality and horror they face hurt even more. I really didn’t realize how much I cared about them until the last two hundred pages when everything started to unravel. As I stated above, I cried the last 100 pages and sobbed at the end of it. Hannah wove a story that showed that every decision, good, bad, or indifferent, mattered and changed the lives of so many people. It is a story that makes you stop and think about your own life and its impact.

Now for the negatives and things that people might not like about this novel. As I stated above, the instant love between Isabelle and Gaëtan annoyed me and seemed a little off given the construction of the rest of the novel. True, they went through an imaginable tragedy together, but the confession after only knowing one another for a short time, most of that marching in a heard of other people escaping Paris, didn’t ring true to me. I can also see that people will find this novel too slow-paced, with too many chapters about life in occupied France without a lot of action. However, I feel that is important to understand the characters and the constant oppressing force that France lived under during all those years. Hannah, while not straying into tragedy porn, doesn’t pull away from the horror of the war. The random shootings in the streets, The Final Solution, and the violence against women are highlighted in this novel. With everything going on in the world, I can see why that would make people not want to read this right now. I am all for reading for escapism, I get it.

This was such a weird reading experience for me because I didn’t understand what everyone was so in love with at the beginning of the novel and an emotional mess by the end of it. This novel throws you into occupied France and keeps you there with two women who take very different approaches to survive the war. I would definitely state that you need to be in the right mind space for this novel and definitely check the trigger warnings, but I think it is a great historical novel. I can’t give it a five because of the Isabelle Gaëtan relationship and a few other nitpicky things, but it is a 4.75 rounded up to a five. I will be thinking about this book for a long time.

#the nightingale #Kristin Hannah #5 out of 5 stars #historical fiction #booklr #book review

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thrillridesz · 3 years

Text

heart racing ▫ j.yn

in part of the adrenaline rush! collab hosted by @lucas-wongs + @ickjun

⇢ pairing: jaehyun x reader (f) (ft. other nct members + twice’s jeongyeon)

⇢ genre: fluff, angst, racer!au, best friends to lovers

⇢ warnings: swearing, mentions of cheating, mentions and consumption of alcohol, alcoholism, hitting rock bottom

⇢ synopsis: once a revered member of the racing industry, jaehyun has been living at rock bottom for the past few months following a tragic accident that effectively put him out of racing. it seems as though nothing would get through to him, not even you. will he ever break out of the constant loop of doubt and start seeing things for what they really are?

⇢ word count: 8.04k

⇢ a/n : unedited! also posted on this account because I’m considering merging my nct account with my tbz writing blog also PLEASE check out the other writers’ works ^^ we’ve all worked hard on our fics

“Jaehyun, you’re ruining yourself.”

The dim room reeked of stale alcohol and something mouldy as the empty beer bottles that littered the floor clanged noisily against the surrounding furniture, leaking golden yellow liquid all over. Old, worn clothes were draped everywhere, stained and darkened with murky stains while the battered television flickered weakly to live, showing nothing but static. The walls were streaked and striated with scratches, as if someone had just been clawing desperately at them and on the floor amidst the empty glass bottles, were pieces of scrap poster paper. Sunlight peeks in through the drawn blinds, giving a teasing glimpse to the bustling outside world from the sad, decrepit apartment Jaehyun lived in.

Sprawled on the couch with nothing on except a wrinkled pair of jeans, Jaehyun’s eyes were devoid of emotion - blank and dazelike. In his hand, his fingers held on limply to the neck of yet another bottle of beer, possibly his nth for the day. His usually shiny hazel brown hair was greasy with filth and his bare chest was sticky with sweat from being cooped up all day in this tiny, stuffy apartment of his. His jawline was starting to grow a hint of stubble given how much he’d completely let himself go and dark circles were appearing underneath those intense eyes of his.

Slowly, Jaehyun lifted his gaze from the floor to look at you, the first flicker of emotions that he’d ever displayed in the whole day. You stood before him, arms akimbo, your gaze sharp and piercing. He smiled, a smile that held no mirth or happiness.

“Oh, you’re still here.”

You shook your head, ripping the bottle of beer from his grasp. As you approached, the bottles, clothes and torn pieces of paper on the ground almost made you trip and you tutted under your breath.

“Of course I am. I’m your best friend who is somehow still here with you. Best friends help each other.”

He chuckled nonchalantly, waving his hand at the door. “Well, feel free to leave then. I don’t need your help.” His eyes held a hint of anger as he did, something that did not escape your notice.

“Jaehyun,” you said softly, placing the bottle on a nearby table as you dread what was to come next. “Please, not this again.”

Your words only served to fuel the fiery spark of anger in his eyes as he said in a barely controlled tone, the irritation radiating from him in ripples that threatened to evolve into waves, “Why not? I’m a fucking wreck and a loser anyways. Leave like everyone else did. Leave like…” His voice wobbled, “leave like Jeongyeon did.”

Your heart fell and it took almost a godlike willpower not to let your emotions show. Was he still thinking about her?

“Jaehyun-”

“What? Are you gonna say I’m not a loser like you always do? Cut the fucking lies. Everyone out there is saying the same thing, what makes you think you can convince me that you’re not thinking it either? Hm?” He spat, the drowsiness in his demeanour dissipating fast as red hot anger replaced it. There was so much internal frustration within Jaehyun that just seeing him like this was enough to break your heart. It was one thing to see him in this terrible state but it was quite another to see him directing his anger towards you.

You drew in a deep breath, trying to calm your pounding heart and to stop the tears that pricked at the corner of your eyes. Having been there with him every step of the year ever since the both of you were children playing and horsing around the neighbourhood, you found yourself desperately missing those much simpler times and wondering how things became so wrong.

For as long as you could remember, Jaehyun had always been interested and had a natural flair for racing. There always existed a competitive streak in him that thrived off a challenge. It didn’t matter what it was, as long as it was a game that could have a clear winner or incited competitiveness, he was all up for it. As kids, the two of you used to compete over everything, be it for the last popsicle in the convenience store down the street or past the gates of your school. It was as if racing was something he needed in order to live. It wasn’t until sophomore year of high school did Jaehyun decide to take his love for racing to a professional level. He began to dive deep into the motorsport industry, starting out as a mere rookie in auto racing. He never did apply to college, preferring instead to invest all his time into his newfound life career.

His rise to fame was quick, quicker than most. Within his first year, he had won a number of races, beating even some of the well known names in the sport. Every other month, he was winning trophies and exorbitant cash prizes which in return earned him the recognition of famous sponsors and racers. Bumper stickers from the various sponsors decorated the back of his ride and it was no time at all before Jaehyun began to don some of the most expensive sports gear on the tracks. With his smouldering good looks, he also appeared on the front pages of magazines and newspapers, all while attracting a loyal fanbase made up of both racing enthusiasts and adoring admirers.

To everyone else, he was the suave, handsome and effortlessly cool young racer who was practically born to race and to do it well but to you, he was your childhood friend… and your first love. In front of the flashing lights and cameras, Jaehyun knew his way around the crowd. He knew exactly when to flash one of his dazzling, dimpled smiles and how to work the crowd - it was just one of his innate charms. Yet, you knew that underneath that, that flashy, extravagant Jaehyun, was the Jaehyun you grew up with and had gradually fallen in love with.

As children, he was there for you whenever you needed him, always ready to lend a helping hand when he noticed that you were stuck in an unfavourable situation. You distinctly remember what had happened in second grade. It was a bright and warm summer’s day, the lovely scent of sweet peas floating in the air as the sun bore down on the earth. Pigeons flitted over the sidewalks, pecking at the cemented floor and the leaves of the oak trees that lined the streets rustled gently in the wind.

You fell with a loud and heavy thud on your bottom, feeling the leaves crunch noisily under your weight. Fear and trepidation coursed through your veins as you stared with eyes wide at your tormentors.

“Look at her, she looks pathetic. Do it, Johnny! Do it!”

A tall, hunkering boy flanked by his cronies stood over you, his dark, massive shadow engulfing you as you frantically scrambled backwards. Tears were beginning to stream down your face and a sharp pain shot up your spine with each move, owing to the impact of the fall. There were scratches on your hands as you dragged your palms over the rough gravel in an attempt to move away.

There was a malicious glint in Johnny’s eyes and his lips were curved into a devious smirk as he stared down at you, domineering and intimidating. The veins in his arms and hands were bulging angrily and as he clenched his fists, you felt your stomach sink. Your legs began to feel like jelly and your vision was beginning to blur from all the salty tears. You were struck with fear and the sense of helplessness you felt made you feel both ashamed and furious at yourself yet there was nothing you could do.

You held your hand up to shield yourself from the impending attack as the bully lifted up his fist.

“Hey! How about you pick on someone your own size?!”

The group of you turned to see Jaehyun, eyes blazing with anger as his chest heaved. His wind-swept hair hung over his eyes, a surefire sign that he’d run over and his cheeks were red from exertion. Even from afar, he was clearly no match to Johnny’s larger build, much less the whole lot of them.

“J-Jaehyun?” You spluttered, shocked.

“Who is this clown- Ow!” Johnny stumbled backwards as a rock pebble hit him on the head, promptly ricocheting off his forehead and bouncing onto the ground. His jaw was clenched in pain and when he removed his palm, a reddish bruise had blossomed and there was even a faint trace of blood. There was a split second of stunned silence before Johnny turned almost magenta with rage.

“GET HIM!” He roared and his cronies shook out of their daze, immediately going after Jaehyun who’d already ran a good distance before the reality of what had just happened set in. His mocking laugh rang through the afternoon amidst a cackle of profanities and threats yelled at him.

It was a laugh that remained in your memories all these years. It was a laugh that strengthened you, a laugh that spoke so much of willful courage and youthful rebellion which was everything you’d eventually come to associate with Jaehyun. That laugh was bright and so… him.

Yet now, you could see none of that playful mischief and vibrancy in those eyes. All that is left is emptiness.

“You’re not a loser, Jaehyun,” you began softly, “you never were in my eyes. You were a fighter.”

Those beautiful eyes you adored so much narrowed at you, his face twisted into a scowl.

“A fighter? Guess what, y/n?” He sneered, his voice dripping with venom. “I fought. I fought endlessly but did that work out for me? I threw in everything I could, every little thing. I worked hard and put in a hundred and one percent of my effort.”

You stared at him, your heart aching for him as a single tear began to roll down his cheek, tears of anger, indignation and pain.

“But did that work out? No, it didn’t. If anything, it left me a wreck. People out there call me a loser, a has-been and even my girlfriend has left me. It doesn’t matter how much effort I put in, how much I fought because at the end of the day, everyone is only here because of what they think I am. They saw me as a champion, an up and coming and the moment I wasn’t anymore, they all dropped me in a heartbeat. What are you waiting for, y/n? Why the hell are you even still here?”

His words echoed through the empty apartment and out loud, it sounded bleak, harsh and biting. His anguished voice tore at your heart and as each word left those lips, it felt like your heart was slowly breaking apart. Neither of you said anything for a moment, locked in a silent, unspoken fight as he held your gaze steadily. His eyes were cold and there was the look of a broken man in them.

“I am here because I love you, Jaehyun,” you said finally, your voice quivering. “I don’t care who or what you are and it pains me to see you tear yourself down like this because I know you are not the loser you believe you are. I don’t know how much of this I can take, seeing you ruin yourself.”

You can see the slight softening in his eyes and you gritted your teeth.

“I’m going to go. I don’t know when I’ll be back. I can’t see you ruin yourself and be able to do nothing about it. I’m not strong enough for that.”

With that, you left the apartment before he could see the tears in your eyes.

The miserable, empty can of beer clattered loudly against the hardwood floor, the sound echoing through the dank apartment.

Jaehyun barely lifted an eyebrow, his fingers growing slack without him even knowing. He stared up at the dark ceiling, a hooded look in those once bright eyes. The stench that hung around him was growing more intense by the day and it was reaching a point whereby he could almost smell himself but there was nothing in him that seemed to care.

Sounds of active civilisation outside drifted in through the windows and occasionally, he’d hear the honking of angry drivers on the roads or the laughter of children playing at the playground at the courtyard below. Normally, he loved waking up to these sounds or at least when he wasn’t off to the race tracks, when he was relaxing with a book in his hands. Now however, he found them irksome, irritating and he wanted nothing more but to block them out. He wanted absolutely zero reminder of the world outside.

Grunting, Jaehyun dragged himself off the couch. As he trudged heavily back to his room where his comfortable bed beckoned to him, he turned to stare at the large, imposing front door where moments ago, you’d slammed shut as you left him to his own devices.

Guilt tugged at his heart and for a split second, Jaehyun contemplated running after you. When you left, there was an indescribable sense of hollowness that engulfed him in a way that he couldn’t quite understand or explain. The apartment was filthy, dark and small but somehow with you around just a few minutes ago, it felt just a little bigger, a little warmer. As much as he hated to admit it, his heart was calling to him to reach out to you, run after you. The crumpled look on your face haunted him but he shook the thought from his mind.

It would be better if you left him. If you knew what was good for you, you would.

The anger in him was beginning to resurface at the thought of everything that had happened over the past few months. His career plummeting on a downward spiral right after his recovery, the exact opposite of what was predicted by his agent.

He was born to race, his family and his friends had always told him so. He knew it himself, he could feel it in his blood, his bones, his spirit. Ever since he was little, Jaehyun had known that his career would have something to do one way or another with racing. As a child, he loved running, competing but most of all, he loved riding in his father’s pickup truck on the way to school. He loved the way the vehicle would zoom past the streets, overtaking other vehicles and he loved the feeling of the wind against his face. He loved the speed and everything about cars or racing. It felt natural for him to pursue a career in competitive racing and a natural he was.

After getting signed with a racing company, Jaehyun quickly rose to fame with his numerous championships, bagging trophies, medals and cash prizes in almost every event he participated in. Sports magazines and reporters would clamour over each other to score an interview with him. People wanted pictures with him, wanted him to sign an autograph for them.

He was the golden boy in the racing world, an untouchable.

In the racing world, everything goes a mile a minute and nothing waits for anyone. After the morbid crash at the June Tokyo Prix, Jaehyun had sustained several fractures to his ribs and a severe concussion that left him in the hospital’s intensive care unit bedridden for several months. The pain was unlike any other and every single move hurt immensely but what suffered more damage than he did was his career and his relationships.

Within months, the racing career he had so painstakingly built up for himself collapsed before him. Due to long inactivity, brands and sponsors began to drop him, slowly at first then steadily one by one. He was also constantly under the media’s scrutiny for a period of time, their cameras and microphones thrusted in his face while he lay helpless on the hospital bed. The bright flashes blinded him and the loud noises made his head pound and even now, he still remembered how that experience was like, shuddering every time it crossed his mind. It had taken Jaehyun countless hours of physical therapy before he could even think of racing competitively again.

Yet when he did, he quickly realised he never could revert back to his old self, the one who got off on adrenaline kicks while zooming along the tracks at breakneck speed, the one who only knew what it was like to win. He was slower, less coordinated. His body could no longer take the pressure racing would subject it too, or at least not quickly enough for him to make a full, stunning comeback.

The tabloids and news had run wild with his fall from grace, writing up horrible, demeaning articles about him. His rivals had mocked him to his face and he could even sense the visible disappointment from his fans emanating from the stands whenever he’d lost yet another race. The thing that really broke the camel’s back however, was when his girlfriend Jeongyeon initiated a breakup.

Jaehyun had hoped that things would turn for the better, never one to give up. He’d trained tirelessly everyday, pushing his brittle body to the limit. He never let up on himself, gritting his teeth through all the physical and mental pressure he had imposed on himself. When the final text was sent, Jaehyun could remember distinctly how hopeless and distraught he’d felt. It felt like his world, the empire he had so painfully and relentlessly crafted for himself from scratch was breaking bit by bit. To add salt to the wound, the next time he’d seen her on television, her body was plastered against his biggest rival, Yuta. Her arms were wrapped around his and her lips pressing against his cheeks with no shame whatsoever for the interviewer interviewing him, no sign of the girl who’d once told him that she loved him with all her heart.

What was once determination and naive hopefulness soon devolved into anger and resentment. Jaehyun began to let himself go and the change was drastic. Where there once existed a time whereby he’d rise from his slumber early to visit the gym, he now regularly slept well into the late afternoon. His diet began to consist largely of takeout, junk food and alcohol and his apartment got more and more cluttered by the day. He’d stopped contacting his friends and family, ignoring their calls and texts, preferring to fester in his own solitude. It wasn’t long before an odour had started to emit from his place, a nauseating mixture of stale pizza, beer and pure filth from the lack of showers.

His appearance was also no longer polished, but rather haggard as if he’d aged five years in a matter of months. He was beginning to lose his fit stature, the healthy glow he’d once been prized on by magazines and gossip columns dimming. It got to a point whereby Jaehyun had begun to avoid looking at his hideous reflection in the mirror, his self-hatred growing with each day.

A poster of him in his racing gear and his race car was tattered and wrinkled on the floor, stained with ketchup and soda. Staring at it blankly with eyes empty of any emotions whatsoever, Jaehyun swiped it up and in a swift moment, he tore it up with a large rip before trashing it somewhere on the floor.

Flopping onto his comforter, he almost moaned in pleasure as he sunk into the soft sheets. Reaching for the air conditioning control, a loud smack on the ground roused him from his hedonistic haze. His hair was sticking up in all directions as he peered over the edge of his bed to see a picture frame that had fallen from his night stand.

Holding it in his hands, he looked at it with a nonchalant air.

It was a picture of the both of you a few years ago, back when he was just kick starting his racing career. He hadn’t yet made a name for himself then as the two of you leaned in for the picture.

You had on a bright, illuminating beam on your face, your eyes alive and glittering with happiness. Your hair was down, wisps of it framing your face as the sun brought out the colour and shine of it. Next to him, you’d completely dwarfed in comparison. He had his arm around you, bringing you to his side and from the picture, Jaehyun could feel a smile begin to crack on his face at the comical height difference.

He’d looked completely at ease here, carefree with the recklessness and restlessness of the soul beneath shining through his dark eyes. His hair was wavy, styled down in that ridiculous fashion he wanted so badly to leave back in high school. He had worn a dimpled smile on his face, the look of someone who knew he was destined for greatness and believed in it.

Jaehyun was about to put the picture down when something caught his eye. He leaned in closer.

There was something about you. At first glance, it would have been clear that you were smiling for the camera but upon closer look, it looked as if you might be smiling at him instead. Your smile was softer, eyes gentler from the first time he’d seen the picture. It was the sort of smile that struck him in his heart, the kind of smile that would make its recipient feel loved, appreciated.

“I want to be a racer when I grow up.”

You turned to Jaehyun, eyes wide as saucers as you popped the ice popsicle out of your mouth.

“Why?”

He shrugged, still struggling with the wrapper of the popsicle. The two of you sat on the wooden bench, side by side as the other kids ran around the park, playing rounds of tag while their parents or babysitters sat watching over them. The sun was glaring down on the earth and though it was a great day to go out to play and sweat it out, it was also a perfect day to find an excuse to buy popsicles with what little pocket money your parents had given to you two. It wasn’t an opportunity to be missed.

“I really like racing. I don’t know if there’s anything else I’d want to be,” he said simply, grinning as he finally succeeded in breaking open the plastic.

You tried to hide the blush that was beginning to creep up to your cheeks, looking away from him.

“My mom says being a doctor is good.”

As soon as you said it, you immediately regretted your words. Jaehyun scrunched up his nose in disgust.

“No way! It’s so boring. Do you want to be a doctor?”

Quickly, you shook your head fervently. “No!”

“Then what do you want to be?” He asks curiously, sucking on his popsicle.

You are quiet for a while as you ponder over his question. What exactly do you want to be when you grow up?

“...A writer.” You said finally and he swiveled around to look at you, clearly not expecting your answer.

“A writer? Hm, why?”

“I just really like reading. I want to write interesting stories that people will like,” you take a tentative lick of your popsicle, the icy, sweet taste of apple flavouring coating your tongue, “Like fairytales!”

Jaehyun broods over your answer, seemingly deep in thought. For a moment, neither of you say another word as you sit together under the warm, sunny day, enjoying your popsicles.

“I want people to like me too.” He says suddenly, his eyes shining. “People will like my racing! I’m going to be a racer and people will like me to win!”

He hops to his feet, his popsicle raised as he made his declaration. There is a triumphant, toothy smile on his face and he says it with so much hope and gusto that you can’t help but feel drawn to his driven spirit. For a boy of five foot, there was a lot of motivation and energy in him and there was just something about him that got you transfixed.

Under the sunlight, his smile seemed almost blindingly bright with the shadows highlighting the charming dimples on those round cheeks. The butterflies in your stomach were going crazy and your heart began to pound. Your words seemed stuck in your throat and you choked out, “I t-think you’ll make a good racer, J-Jaehyun.”

You thought your heart might burst as his smile grew wider, his dimples making deeper indentations. It felt like the sun might just be a little too hot since your face felt like it was positively flaming.

“Thank you, y/n.”

Suddenly, something caught your eye and shakily, you pointed at him.

His smile dropped as his eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

“What?”

“Y-your popsicle is m-m-melting… down your a-arm.”

The elevator button made an uncharacteristic squeaking sound as Jaehyun jabbed repeatedly at it, his jaw clenched in impatience.

“Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up,” he muttered frantically under his breath, pacing the lift lobby. The red letters above the elevator were moving at a snail’s pace and it seemed as if it’s stopped to pick up some passengers on the 5th floor. How long does it take for people to move into an elevator?

Jaehyun groaned in annoyance as he watched the number on the display crawl up slowly.

This wouldn’t do. By the time it’s here, it would be too late.

Immediately, he sprinted for the stairs instead, his heart hammering against his chest.

There was great fanfare as the rowdy crowd erupted into raucous cheers, the large, industrial sized party poppers going off with a bang, covering everyone in glitter streamers and confetti. Cameras were flashing and clicking away at every corner while throngs of sports reporters flooded the holding area, all trying to reach the champions for their coveted exclusive interviews. Agents and pit crews were all celebrating with the sound of champagne bottles popping and yells and cheers of congratulations ringing through the air.

Jaehyun stood at the top of the podium, shooting the cameras his trademark stunning grin as he posed with his golden trophy that looked to be about the size of his torso. The racing suit he was wearing was uncomfortably hot and he wanted nothing more than to strip from it but the adrenaline and euphoria he was experiencing far surpassed any feelings of discomfort.

This was it, the taste of success. It was everything he lived for, raced for. This was why he always trained so hard, from dawn to dusk. This was why he put his own body through all those hours of endurance training, gym and dieting. It was all for this single moment of true bliss enjoyed and savoured after the extreme thrill of racing. Here on the podium, towering above everyone else… He was truly where he needed to be, where he was born to be.

As he stepped off and the bodyguards swarmed in to escort him to his own holding room, Jaehyun couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. Yet another trophy for display on his shelf back in his apartment. He didn’t think he’d ever get sick of it, the feeling of winning but then again who would?

Reporters were attempting to accost him at all sides, all screaming out the same old questions he had grown tired of early on.

“How do you feel after winning the prix for the third year running?”

“You hit a record timing today! How did you train for the race?”

“What do you have to say to your rival, Nakamoto who came in second this year? By a mere few seconds at that!”

Jaehyun nodded and waved at a few of them, still wearing a smile on his face but there was no answer evoked from him. He’d kept up a calm and cool demeanour throughout but once he was in his holding room alone, the moment the door closed shut behind him, he let out a loud, jubilant howl.

“Fuck yes!” He roared out in happiness before collapsing onto the couch, laughing to himself as he held his trophy above him. He badly needed a shower but he couldn’t care less, not with the trophy in his hands. Under the light, the gold shone and even as a seasoned racer, the excitement and happiness from winning never grew old. In the empty room, the victory felt even more profound, the reality of claiming the championships for yet another year sinking in.

He was in the middle of celebrating and basking in his own victory, he received a text.

Jy: how’s my man doing? congratulations on the win honey ❤️

Jae: thanks babe, it feels fucking amazing. you have no idea… also i missed you so much

Jy: we should celebrate. together, alone. tonight at my place? ;) we haven’t done it in awhile, i miss your body, your kisses

Jaehyun stared at the text. He should be happy, excited to see Jeongyeon again after so long. He had been so preoccupied with training for the big race that he’d barely had any time for her. He had missed her yet now that they were finally exchanging texts again after so long apart, he didn’t seem to feel the same anticipation.

There was something about that text she sent that seemed weirdly… detached. He had imagined their first interaction in over a month to be one that warmed him up in the inside, brought him to a whole new level of euphoria even after winning but if anything, this reality paled in comparison to the scenario he had looked forward to in his mind.

Jae: yeah sure

After pressing send, he tossed his phone onto the coffee table and rested his head against the velvety cushion of the couch. Somehow, that very short exchange with Jeongyeon had dimmed his excitement and readiness to celebrate.

His phone suddenly rang, disrupting him from the reverie he’d found himself in.

“Must be Jeongyeon,” he thought to himself and for some reasons as he swiped to answer the call, he found himself reluctant to talk.

“Hello?”

“Jung Jaehyun! I was watching your race on television, congratulations for coming in first yet again! You were terrific out there.”

Y/n.

Jaehyun smiled, feeling his heart swell at your words.

“Thanks, y/n. I really appreciate it.”

“How about we meet for dinner tonight? I know of this amazing Italian place that serves the best lasagna, your favourite! My treat too to celebrate your win, how’s that?”

At the mention of lasagna, Jaehyun could feel his stomach rumbling and his mouth watering. The tangy tomato sauce, copious amounts of cheese and spiced minced beef with soft pasta… He would absolutely be down for some well-deserved lasagna after weeks of feasting on plain, watery salads. Dinner sounded like a great idea.

“Sure, I- Wait, I can’t,” he groaned, suddenly remembering his plans with Jeongyeon. Plans he didn’t even particularly look forward to.

“Why not?” You asked.

“I um…”

Fuck, why is it so hard to say it?

“I have plans with Jeongyeon tonight,” he said, ignoring the strange pang of guilt and indignation that hit him square in the chest.

“Oh! Oh, uh… That’s completely fine. Don’t worry about it, we can always have dinner some other day.”

“Really? That would be great! How does next week sound?”

“Sounds good to me!” Even on call, he could imagine you bobbing your head enthusiastically like you usually did and that brought a chuckle out of him.

“Alright, I’ll see you then y/n.”

“See you! Please rest well, you deserve it.”

“Thank you,” he replied before hanging up.

What is this warm feeling in him?

Jaehyun raced out of the apartment complex, his eyes searching his surroundings.

The sun was glaring and he couldn’t see straight without squinting his eyes. He must have been a weird sight to behold - scruffy, pale from the lack of the outdoors and reeking of the garbage piled up in his apartment. An elderly woman walking past him tutted disapprovingly at his disheveled appearance, holding her nose as she did but Jaehyun didn’t seem to notice her. His mind was on something else, something more important.

A boy from across the street was staring at him with his mouth agape, looking like a deer caught in headlights as he shakily fumbled in his pockets for his phone. Jaehyun let his sights linger on him, wondering if he should have at least thrown on a coat but as he turned, he caught sight of a figure hanging by the bus stop, looking miserable.

He swallowed thickly, feeling the slight clench of his heart and without hesitating a single second longer, he made his way over.

The heart monitor’s methodical beating was driving him near insanity. If not that, then certainly the suffocating atmosphere of the hospital and the bandages wrapped tightly around almost every single inch of his body would. Not to mention the occasional undercover paparazzi who would try to inch their way into his ward.

Jaehyun stared up at the white ceilings, still as a plank. Every part of his body hurt to move, he couldn’t even turn his head without feeling a painful pounding in it. Sometimes, he would get dizzy spells so intense he actually felt nauseous. His appetite for food or anything in general had since plummeted. Everything, but racing.

He yearned to go out there onto the tracks, to resume his training. The Roman Prix is coming up in a month’s time and he was so far from ready. He needed to get out of this place as soon as possible, even if it meant jeopardising his own safety. His career mattered more than anything.

Jeongyeon hadn’t called either since the day he got admitted. Jaehyun had soon grown tired of checking his messages or asking his publicist for news from her, the feeling of disappointment felt deep within him. He closed his eyes, suddenly feeling a wave of fatigue wash over him.

There was a gentle knock on the door and as the door creaked slightly open, you poked your head in. Upon seeing him, you smiled softly and made your way over to him. Jaehyun watched you approach, his eyes following you.

You had brought along a basket with you, seemingly full of items. As much as he wanted to know what you’d brought, he tried not to look overeager. “I made you something special today,” you said, settling down and practically vibrating with excitement.

“What?”

“Tomato minestrone soup!” You exclaimed, uncovering the lid as the tantalising aroma of tomatoes and a medley of vegetables drifted in the air. Jaehyun almost had to restrain himself from moving, lest he shift a bone out of place somewhere.

Somehow seeing you had sparked a certain kind of joy in him. Maybe it was a sign nobody had really forgotten about him yet. He had watched his number of visitors trickle down day by day and now that it was close to a month since he’d been hospitalised, after the tragic accident, he barely got any. Perhaps three or four a week if he was lucky.

You, however, you were different. You visited him almost every other day, no matter how busy you were. You visited his bedside even if you were worn out from a long day of work, even when you had things to attend to, even when no one else bothered to. You would bring along snacks whenever you did or homemade get-well food like fish porridge or chicken noodle soup you’d whipped up yourself, though they might be far from the usual gourmet fare he was used to back when he was still active when he would go for exquisite dinner parties. Usually, you stayed for a substantial amount of time and sometimes, you even stayed the night.

Jaehyun didn’t understand why you would do all of this for a friend, a friend who never seemed to have time to spare for you at that. More than anything, the feeling of guilt in him only grew stronger with each visit yet he was grateful, extremely grateful. Your presence was like a warm ray of sunshine in this dreary hospital ward. Whenever you visited, he couldn’t help but smile even though he could not find it in himself to smile. But when it came to you, it felt natural.

“Y/n!”

At the sound of Jaehyun’s voice, you turned and even from afar, he could see your reddened eyes - a surefire sign you’d been crying. Guilt and anger washed over him in waves and he tried not to think how many times he had been the cause of your tears. If only he could turn back time, he would have shook himself for ever dismissing you so lightly like he did, before he saw the situation for what it was.

He was blinded. Blinded by his obsession for winning, fame, glory and pleasing the wrong people. In a way, it felt like a fog had been lifted before him and now that he could see, think, feel clearly… He wasn’t going to let the right person out of his grasp. The person who loved him unconditionally, not just for his fame and achievements. The person who stuck with him through thick and thin but he was just too daft to notice it. The person who always felt like home whether he knew it or not.

You.

“Jaehyun? W-What are you…” You spluttered, desperately trying to wipe your tears from your face as you stared up at him.

It took a couple of seconds for him to regain his breath, his face turning red from embarrassment and exertion. He should really start leaving those beers and junk food alone.

“I…” He panted, both out of fatigue and relief, “We need to talk.”

“Jung is getting closer, any minute now Hendery!”

“I don’t believe this! Are we looking at a potential comeback for this prix? Push, push, push!”

“It seems like we might be! Here he comes! He is absolutely mad!”

The nascars zipped along the race tracks, smoke and some bits of burnt rubber and chipped metal trailing along its wake. They were a blur of colours to the spectators, who were practically glued to their seats as they watched the race reach its climax. A massive telescreen was displaying close ups and the ranking board with huge overhead lights that illuminated the stadium. The crowd was growing wilder by the second as the racecars zoomed past them, their attention fixed on one racer in particular.

The sleek nascar was streaked in royal blue and crimson red over a metallic black base, looking almost purple and black with how fast it was flying across the tracks. The wheels were spinning so fast that the friction between the tough rubber tire and the rough granite almost lit up the tracks. It was charging forward with a steely determination and ruthlessness, closing in rapidly on a green and white nascar ahead of it.

The adrenaline coursing Jaehyun’s veins was unlike any other. The thrill he got from racing could practically send him into an all time high and a cunning grin tugged at his lips as he stepped his foot down hard on the pedal, his hands gripping tightly onto his steering wheel. Rounding around a bend, he clenched his jaw as he pushed his body weight to the left, the muscles in his abdominals and biceps flexing and straining against his racing suit as the car drifted across the tracks in a perfect arc.

“Did you see that perfectly executed drift?! Insanity!”

“Jung is absolutely on fire!”

The thunderous cheers of the crowd and the loud hum of the race cars racing across the tracks faded into the background as he kept his eyes trained steadily forward. Any time now…

“Watch out, Nakamoto,” he whispered under his breath.

Steering his wheel sharply and accelerating much to the crowd’s excitement and trepidation, his race car was now driving side by side along Yuta’s. For a split second, the two turned to look at each other through the window and even though there was no way of seeing the other’s face through that helmet, something in Jaehyun told him that his rival was angered, shocked and… Fearful.

Jaehyun grinned beneath his helmet and without a second thought, he zipped forward, leaving Yuta behind in the smoke.

“He’s going for it, he’s going for it… Wait for it… And he crosses the line! The legend has reclaimed his spot on the top!”

“And that is how you execute one of the greatest comebacks of all time, ladies and gentlemen. Jung has done what we believed to be impossible and dominated the race! I wonder how Nakamoto feels about that?”

The other commentator chuckles into his microphone.

“Well Haechan, if I were him, I’d be pissed off for sure! But I’d also be worried… So very worried.”

The crowd was absolutely wild when he’d disembarked from the car and as he removed his helmet, he was greeted with camera flashes all around him. He shook his head, running a gloved hand over his hair and he took a deep breath. The air smelled of burnt rubber, smoke and… Success.

He had done it. He had made his comeback.

His pit crew made a beeline for him, slapping him on the back, their faces jubilant and lit with pure joy. His new manager, one that he trusted and helped him inch his way back to the top step by step, shot him a thumbs up which he nodded in acknowledgement as the crowd of sports journalists, reporters and photographers began to swarm in on him.

Yet, he paid them no attention. If this was three years ago, he would have basked in the glory, the attention but now he had greater concerns on his mind. His heart was pounding now for a different reason altogether and he could feel his hands growing clammy.

Jaehyun craned his neck and searched the rowdy media crowd. Where were you?

“Jaehyun!”

At your voice, he turned and immediately almost stumbled backwards as you crashed into him for a hug. The feelings of you against him sparked a joy in his heart, a joy almost greater than winning. He enveloped you in a hug, holding your waist as he nuzzled his face into your hair. Your scent of honey and jasmine was intoxicating, alluring and a welcomed change from the smell of smoke and rubble.

The two of you had been dating for about two years now, each day together better than the previous. After he’d caught up with you that day, it was as if you were seeing a different Jaehyun from the one you’d seen in his apartment. That Jaehyun who had caught up with you at the bus stop was the old Jaehyun you’d missed and it was as if a switch somewhere had been flipped. To this day, he had never admitted what changed while you were gone for those few minutes. He had subsequently apologised for everything he’d done, even things you didn’t see a problem with. It was shocking to say the least to see the unapologetic Jaehyun apologise for anything at all, but not more shocking than what entailed a few days later.

It started with a vase of luscious red roses being sent to your workplace followed by an invitation for dinner. Before you knew it, the boy you’d loved almost all your life was courting you with a passion. It felt like a complete dream, so much so you had been afraid to wake up suddenly and realise it was all just your imagination. He’d been more of a romantic than he’d let on and many times, you had found yourself completely smitten by his stunts that stretched from learning how to make homemade chocolates for you on Valentine’s Day knowing that you liked them, even though he was well known as a terrible cook to sending flowers up to your doorstep every other week.

Within a couple of months, the two of you were dating and deeply, wildly in love.

Amidst date nights filled with laughter and kisses, he had also been steadily climbing his way back up the ranks of the racing world. After ditching his unhealthy lifestyle he had been living for the past year, the change was apparent. He’d started hitting the gym, eating healthier and before long, he was in prime condition to start racing again. Training was long and tough but he never did give up. He was more determined and driven than you’d seen him and though the old Jaehyun would have been gutted at a loss, this new, better version of him never fussed over a loss of any kind, instead learning from his mistakes.

All of his efforts had led to this ultimate moment, the taste of victory on his lips.

You noticed he had been shifting uncomfortably and you looked up, puzzled and concerned.

“Jaehyun? You okay?”

He looked at you, his ears red, a sign that he was anxious, nervous.

“Jaehyun? What-”

Your words got stuck in your throat as he knelt down on one knee, the lights overhead bringing out the sparkle in his eyes and the shine in his hair. Those dark orbs were so full of hope, anxiety and love all intermingled in one and you found it difficult to believe that those eyes were looking at you directly, the emotions in them all for you.

Jaehyun withdrew a tiny, velvet box from his pocket and popped it open. In the box, was a tiny diamond ring, glittering and absolutely regal. The diamond itself was beautifully cut and interwoven into the metal band with microfibres of white gold and it simply shone as the camera flashes went off. The crowd was going bonkers, screaming and cheering with wolf whistles.

“Y/n,” he spoke softly, his voice gentle. “You have always been there for me, always been my better half. We have been friends for over a decade and lovers for merely two but it seemed as if we always were meant for each other. It took me so long to realise that and there is not a day I don’t regret not realising it sooner. You are my everything - my past, present and future. Falling in love with you was gradual, unconscious. I guess my heart knew you the one before I even did. It started with me being in a dark, dark place where I drowned in my own self-hatred and insecurities. I was beaten, defeated and I just gave up. Where everyone did the same, you never did. You were like a beam of shining light, shining upon me and guiding me even if I didn’t notice it at the time. But when I did, you glowed even more brightly than I’d envisioned. I’d been oblivious to your beauty both inside and outside for far too long and god knows how much I fucking regret it. I’m different now though, because of you. I am the best version of myself right now because I have you in my life. You taught me how to love, allow myself to be loved. There’s no universe whereby I’d want to be without you. I can’t see myself without you in my life. I need you, I love you.”

Tears were beginning to stream down your face and the stadium had grown quieter, all tuning into what was happening.

Jaehyun looked up at you, hopeful and so full of love that you thought your heart might burst.

“So I guess what I’m saying is, will you marry me, y/n?” He asked breathlessly.

525 notes · View notes

yeojaa · 3 years

Text

( HOLIDATING. )

In life, there are certain things that go together, two parts that make up a whole. The sun in the sky, grandmothers and cheek kisses, chocolate when you’re sad—and you and Jeon Jungkook. Best friends since childhood, there’s never been one without the other. You’ve always existed this way, caught in each other’s orbit. Parallel lines that run side by side.

But what happens when those lines finally collide?

(or: how to lose a best friend in ten days.)

pairing. best friend!jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating. it’s a full course meal, baby! fluff, smut, baby angst, a bit of crack. the smut is pretty minor but it is explicit when it comes up.

tags / warnings. idiots to lovers, dumb ideas, jungkook is bad at feelings, slow burn, pining, oral (f receiving), this jungkook because he lives in my mind rent-free, and in vino veritas (which was my trope).

wc. ... 12.8k. laughs in thinking this would be 5k.

beta reader(s). @hobi-gif because there’s no me without her and @coepiteamare because vi is too, too good to me.

author note. this is wiiiiildly late (lol) but is part of the rockin’ around the christmas tropes collab with the most wonderful group of women @underthejoon @ladyartemesia @ppersonna @untaemedqueen @xjoonchildx and @snackhobi. i hope you will check out their incredible works because they deserve all the support in the world and i am so very lucky to have been involved in this. if you enjoy it, feedback goes a long way. tysm! 💖💖

Jeon Jungkook is four bites into his meal when he almost chokes, the half-chewed bite of meat getting caught somewhere in the back of his throat, threatening to send him to a far too early grave. He’s three delirious gulps of water deep when he asks you to repeat what you’ve just said, staring at you with the biggest roundest eyes anyone’s ever seen, shining like a beacon in the night, a solar flare that eclipses everything else around it. He’s silent for a total of five seconds - or so he thinks - before he’s laughing, scoffing so loudly it disrupts Eevee, your lazy Maine Coon, and sends her bolting from her spot by his feet.

“You’re kidding me.” Because he can’t even begin to fathom what you’ve just said, make sense of the ludicrous suggestion you’ve made.

This, coming from the guy who has been your best friend for the last seventeen years. Who has known you for almost two decades and who, by sheer idiot osmosis, has been privy to every harebrained scheme you’ve ever dreamt up. Who has, often against his will, suffered through all your crazy 4 a.m. suggestions, nodded along half-asleep as you’d prattled on and on about things that hardly made sense in the light of day but fared even worse beneath a blanket of dazed sleepiness.

(And you’d had a lot of bad ideas. From your absurd fried chicken restaurant - where you’d use vacuum tubes to send food to people’s tables - to your non-whiteboard whiteboard desk - made for the everyday office person - he’s seen it all. Talked you off ledges and rebuked your half-hearted requests for him to be your angel investor.

“Isn’t this what friends do?” You’d said, implored, just two weeks ago over another dinner, with that same absurd stare of yours, the one that Jungkook’s known for most of his life, that makes everything just a little harder to say no to.

“Invest in shitty ideas?” So maybe some of your ideas aren’t that bad. Maybe, just maybe, they’re actually sort of inventive. Out there, certainly, but innovative, plucked from the mind of you and only you.

Still, he liked giving you a hard time. It was sort of his thing.

“Definitely not.”

You’d kicked him under the table, pouted at him and then continued your rambling, completely unfazed by the fact that he was not, in fact, going to shell out a part of his trust fund to bring your whacky idea to life.)

Because you know him so well - can read him like a book, recognise his voice in a crowd of thousands, find his smile like a star in the night sky - you take his disbelief in stride. Treat it like it’s nothing you’re not used to which, well, you aren’t. Continue to stack French fries onto the tines of your fork, twirling the utensil before depositing the too-big bite into your mouth.

“What’s to kid about? It’s a good idea.”

Whether it is or isn’t is up for Jungkook to decide - not you - and he can’t entertain it at all, just the mere thought of it existing too far out of the realm of possibility. “We’re not— What’d you call it?”

“Holidating,” you state, so matter of fact he wants to roll his eyes. Actually does when you set your fork down, lay it neatly beside your plate and level him with that stare. The one that reads like a big red warning sign, that might as well have neon lighting it up by how he shrinks away. He knows that look. He knows you’re not backing down, somehow fired up and ready to go in the minute that’s passed.

Still, he’ll try. Play off your suggestion and scoff just that much harder. “We’re not holidating, ____.”

“Why not?” You’re exasperated, two hands landing on the countertop aggressively. It’s as endearing as it is childish, making him laugh again, roll his eyes until the sclera is all you can see. (You’d told him once that his eyes would get stuck like that if he did it too much. Cue the prank when he’d worn white contacts and nearly given you a heart attack at the tender age of thirteen.)

“Because I don’t have time for dating, let alone—” Jungkook feels idiotic when he says the words, wrapping them in airquotes that have you glowering. “‘Holidating’ or whatever.”

“That’s the point!” You’re waving those same two hands - you’ve always talked with them, emotive and dramatic like a soap opera star - as if that might lend some validity to your statement. “You don’t have time to date. I just got out of a relationship.” Sure, they’re facts but they mean nothing to him as you continue to ramble on. “Neither of us can or even want to put in the effort for a relationship but like, who wants to spend the holidays alone?”

(You have a point. There’s nothing quite like attending his extended family’s annual Christmas dinner by himself. It garners too many of the same questions, offered by distant relatives that mean well but otherwise drive him insane.)

(He’s not about to tell you that, though. Hard time, and all that. What’s a best friend if you don’t bicker like idiots?)

“It’s not that bad,” he says, lying through those slightly too-big, slightly buck-toothed teeth of his. Why he bothers, he isn’t sure. You catch him immediately, a loud a-ha! snapping past your lips when he glances to the side, completely unconsciously.

(You’ve known his tell since he was in high school. Since that first time you’d caught on when he’d borrowed - and subsequently broken - your beloved film camera, you’ve known. You call him out on it too. Every. single. time.)

“You’re telling me you want to have your grandma ask you when you’re going to give her grandkids for the umpteenth time? Seriously?”

“It’s not that bad,” he repeats, a broken record that can’t be fixed, whose cat-scratched eeeeeee gives him away.

He’s bluffing. He knows it. You know it.

Looks like you’re holidating.

After dinner, you’re the most serious he’s seen you in, well, a very long time. You’ve got your notebook out - a heavily worn thing, dogeared in the corners and scratched across the cover with a flimsy spine - and you’re staring him down across the couch like you’re some sort of shrink and he’s your patient.

(You’re not and he isn’t, but it wouldn’t be much of a stretch. After all, he’s told you everything, just as you have him. There’s seldom a secret between the two of you and not just because you somehow call him on every untruth.)

(Call it a byproduct of being best friends for so long. A blessing most often, but a curse on occasion.)

(Now, Jungkook might call it the latter.)

“We’ve got to set some ground rules,” you state, unbearably serious, with that little furrow between your brows. The one that makes you look so much like your mother, aged years by concentration and a single-mindedness that should frankly get you in more trouble than it does.

“Ground rules?” He echoes the sentiment with a quirked brow, a little lift of his mouth. (You’d once said it made him look more like his father, lending an air of careful disapproval that the man carried in his daily business dealings.) “You’re taking this too seriously—”

But you’re not listening to him, already scribbling in your notebook, chewing your bottom lip with abandon. A hand reaches out, thumb and middle finger meeting to flick you on the knee.

The pen strays across paper and you look up in alarm. “What!”

“Stop biting,” he chides, gesturing to his own mouth. It’s always been a bad habit of yours and paired with your deplorably poor lip balm usage, it left your lips swollen and irritated. (Not even the lip masks he’d bought you for Christmas last year - a suggestion from his mother, a stocking stuffer you’d claimed to love - were waging a lost war.)

“Sorry.” You don’t stop doing it, though. He wishes he could be surprised. “Anyway, rules.”

“I don’t think—”

“No couple things.”

That throws him for a loop - though he doesn’t really know why. The two of you were best friends. Quite literally joined at the hip from the moment you’d met all those years ago, just two idiots lumped together by nannies who were sisters. (His parents’ idea because as great as they were, they simply didn’t have the time themselves.)

(Time. What a strange concept. Something that’d dictated the flow of his life since he was a kid. His parents had never had time, so he’d found other things to fill those gaps - recreational sports and art classes and playing tag with you. He’d had too much time in school, so he’d thrown himself into his studies, cementing himself as a top student who was just a little too cold, a little too cavalier. But not with you. No, never with you. You always had time for him - kept him grounded whenever he thought he might fly away. And now, time - or the lack thereof, yet again - had led him here.)

(No time for dating? Just date your best friend! Foolproof plan.)

“What do you mean ‘couple’ things?”

It’s not that Jungkook’s never dated. He has - and a fair share, too. But that was before, in his first few years of college when he’d had more time, more of a desire to cultivate something other than success. He just doesn’t understand what you mean in this context, brow furrowing.

“Like, no holding hands. No kissing under the mistletoe. No—”

His laugh comes loud and teasing, disbelief throwing his words into the air, tossing them like juggling balls. “You know no one actually hangs mistletoe, right? And who says I’d want to kiss you?”

That earns him a kick to the shin, paired with a look of reproach. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jungkook really hadn’t meant anything by it. He just, well—

“I’m your best friend. I’m not daydreaming about kissing you, ____.”

“You never know,” you sniff as if offended, though you’re back to scribbling across your paper so you can’t be that mad. (Anger’s not something you tend to hold onto, red hot fury sparking through you before fizzling out in the next second. He’s grateful for that.)

Still, he chooses to move on, ease the dent that’s formed between your brows and has your mouth pouting. “What else?”

“Uh,” you pause, staring down at your paper. “I’m not sure.”

“What’re you writing then?”

The way you blink is slow, owlish, more guilty than confused. When you flip your notebook to face him, he can’t help but snort. You’d been doodling, filling the margins with holiday-themed nonsense in the shape of snowflakes and squiggly bows.

“Nothing?”

“I guess?”

“Seems easy enough.”

After all, there was no way he was going to fall for you. Best friends were best friends for a reason, right?

He’s wrong. Not about not falling for you, but for saying you were friends for a reason.

Right now, he has no idea why or how.

You’ve been in the department store for over an hour, drifting between displays of kitschy trinkets and racks of clothing, seemingly unable to make up your mind. You’ve asked him five times whether or not you think you’ve made the right choice. (Yes to the cookie cutter set in the shape of cats for your sister and no to the super soft throw blanket in that hideous shade of blue-green. Cerulean, as you’d said, rubbing it all over his hands when he’d zoned out staring at his phone.)

You’d promised him lunch two whole hours ago and now he’s getting hangry, his stomach growling with each step he takes. (A bit of an exaggeration, but he really does fear his stomach’s about to eat itself. Routine is a standard part of Jungkook’s life. He has coffee while he’s getting ready, another shortly before lunch, and his last no later than 4 p.m. Meals come in twos, within the allocated eight hour window he allows himself.)

(Suffice to say, he doesn’t know what to do without his routine, and you’ve all but tossed it out the window, kicked it from its home as if it weren’t paying rent in his mind, keeping everything spick and span.)

“These are cute, right?” It’s a set of - okay, honestly, he’s not sure what. Handmade knit toys? They look like mixes between an otter and a rabbit and sure they’re cute, but so is everything else at the table. Did that mean he was going to buy any of it? No. Did it mean he cared if you did? Also no.

(Which probably isn’t the right approach, given how gung-ho you go for the holidays. Its own personal cheerleader, as if it didn’t already have all the support in the form of a jolly fat man and Buddy the Elf.)

“Sure.” He’s too tired - too hungry, too irritable - to offer anything with more care, his usual polite demeanour coloured red by the starving beast that rumbles about in his stomach. It groans loudly, coiling his fists as he follows you around the display, a zombie on its last legs.

“You’re not even looking.”

Though you’re huffing, spectacularly unimpressed, you don’t seem terribly bothered. You can likely read all his unhappiness with just one glance, as one often did with the title of best friend.

Jungkook doesn’t mean to snipe back but he does anyway, patience worse for wear. “We’ve been in here forever.”

“Five more minutes.”

It ends up being another twenty-five but he doesn’t begrudge you that because he’s finally - finally! - got something in his hands. Something warm and carb-loaded and so tasty he’s probably going to choke because he’s trying to inhale his meal.

“Do you have anything else to buy?” You’re only picking at your food, carefully nibbling the edge of a kale leaf as he scarfs down the entirety of his burger in record time.

At least he has the decency to chew until his mouth is clear, a sesame seed stuck to his lip. “I didn’t leave mine until the last minute.” He never does, preferring to start in November so everything is ready to go by early December. It’s far less stress-inducing than what you do, running around the malls the week before, fighting the throngs and complaining loudly when items are delayed in the mail.

(Organised as you could be - he’s seen it in your colour-coded journals, the long hours you work - your personal life was spectacularly chaotic. Honestly, Jungkook has no idea how you survive.)

“No, everything’s back at my apartment. Just have to wrap.”

And then he’s levelling you with that puppy dog stare - the one he knows you can’t deny. So glossy it should be illegal, twinkling bright behind a frame of dark lashes.

You beat him to the punch, stealing the words right from his mouth. “We can go back and I’ll wrap them.”

It’s an understanding you’ve always had. He accompanies you on your absurd last minute shopping trips and you wrap all of his packages, dressing them in adorable animal-printed wrapping and topping them with big colourful ribbons. (He’s not quite sure how your agreement was fair but hey, he’s not going to complain. You seemed to love the repetition of it all, measuring perfectly-sized strips of tape and affixing neat name tags.)

“Thanks, ____.”

“You’re welcome,” you say as you steal a fry from his plate, popping it into your mouth with a brilliant smile. “Can we stop and get coffee, though?”

"You did this?" As always, Yoongi's voice is riddled with disbelief, single brow quirked so high Jungkook thinks it might leap off his face and join the pile of presents beneath the tree.

"Well, no—" But he should already know that, because Jeon Jungkook never wraps his own presents. Hasn't since you got into arts and crafts and decided gift wrapping was the cool new way to show off your talents without having to invest all of your money into things like bullet journaling or scrapbooking.

(It's probably going to shaft him one day when you're not available and he has to tape the edges and write the cards but that's a problem for future Jungkook.)

"____ again?"

A hand scrubs across the back of his neck, sheepish smile forming fully. "How'd you guess?"

The elder only laughs - a quick puff of air through his lips - before he sips at the amber liquid in his glass. "You should really share her services. Some of us need them." And by that, he almost certainly means Namjoon, who is simultaneously one of the most well-put together and yet disastrously disorganised people in their friend group. (So bad were his wrapping skills that he'd stopped trying entirely, simply opting for kitschy bags and lots and lots of tissue paper.)

"I mean, if you guys wanna be dragged around the mall too, then that's your prerogative." Despite how he says it though, Jungkook doesn't really mind. It's simply a part of your holiday tradition, something that happens whether he likes it or not. (And honestly, he does like it. Loves it, actually, except for when he's hangry or, on the seldom occasion, hungover.)

Yoongi offers another chuckle, draining the last of his whisky. He doesn't need to say much else because he has actually seen you in action - experienced your indecision and dawdling nature firsthand. It'd been once a couple years ago, when he'd been stumped for a gift for his partner and you'd insisted you'd know exactly what she'd want.

(You hadn't. The three of you had wandered the mall for five hours and you couldn't make up your mind. It'd been absolute hell.)

"What're you two talking about?"

As if on cue, you've appeared, peering over Jungkook's shoulder like an elf, decked out in your usual red felt hat and flushed to match. (Out of all of your friends, you had the worst time with drinking. Even if you were almost sober, your face would turn the colour of a tomato.)

Jungkook's too busy stabilising you - you're also awfully clumsy, as if the darker you got, the worse your balance became - to answer but Yoongi doesn't miss a beat, that trademark gummy smile spreading like honey. "Just saying you should start charging for your gift wrapping services. You're making the rest of us look bad."

It's not necessarily untrue. Everyone's presents look fine. Cute, if not a little sloppy. But yours and Jungkook's stand out, topped with intricate bows and twine and big flourishing calligraphy on the tags.

"I could give you lessons," you tease, hanging across your best friend's shoulders, breath smelling strongly of homemade eggnog. (Nutmeg assaults him first, followed by cinnamon. The liquor sneaks up, coating your tongue and his senses when you chirp your words against his cheek.)

"But that means work for me."

You're sighing dramatically, waving your hands in the same manner. "That's the point, Yoongles. Teach a man to fish—"

"You've got the saying wrong." Both your friends are reprimanding you, amusement sliding over syllables as you pause, mouth rounding into a pout. It's quite a funny sight, watching the cogs work in your brain, the way the realisation doesn't dawn quickly enough.

You try again, with great gusto. "If you..."

As funny as it is watching you struggle, Jungkook's need-to-be-right nature kicks into gear. "Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day." There's a pregnant pause, doe eyes wide, imploring. You can do it, he thinks.

You don't, gaping up at him, the picture of that one meme you're so inclined to share regularly. The one with the blonde surrounded by equations.

He finishes with a sigh, "teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime."

"Yeah, that."

Yoongi isn't quite as good a sport, expression turning sly. "I don't want to be fed for a lifetime. I want to be fed for just a day. Just Christmas day, actually."

You must be drunk, or at least a little tipsy. You take his retort with a heavy roll of your eyes, detaching yourself from Jungkook's shoulders to launch yourself at the third party. At least, you try to, narrowly missing when Yoongi side steps, nearly leaving you to run headlong into the immaculately decorated Christmas tree in the corner of your best friend's apartment.

Luckily - or maybe because Jungkook knows you so well, can read your movements before you've even thought them through yourself - you're caught by the turn of your wrist, ink-strewn fingers coiling neatly around the delicate bone.

You collide against Jungkook's chest with a quiet oof!, met with a stare of consternation.

"Take care of your girlfriend" is all Yoongi offers before disappearing back toward the kitchen, snickering not-so-quietly to himself.

At least the two of you are in tandem then: "We're holidating!"

What was so hard to get about that?

"You're what?" Your sister's staring at you like you've grown a second head or maybe sprouted another eye, right smack dab in the centre of your forehead. Jungkook's really trying not to eavesdrop - he's polite like that, carefully disinterested in the conversation as he picks at his food. (If your sister didn't speak so loudly, it'd probably be easier but, well, the two of you had that in common. Charismatic and endearing at your best, boisterous and distracting at your worst.)

"Holidating." It comes in the exact same way you'd said it to him originally and he has to admit, he's vindicated when your sister repeats the word right back. At least someone's just as incredulous.

"What the hell is that?" Eunha demands, brow furrowing, looking very much like your older counterpart, the same features delicately aged by motherhood (and likely having to play big sister to you). "Is that a made up word?"

"It's dating for the holidays. But not like, dating dating. Just being each other's dates."

Whatever she's thinking, she manages to cage it behind her teeth, carefully mulling over her next words. It's actually quite a feat, considering the blood that runs through both of your veins. (He remembers the first time he'd met your mother and it'd been the Spanish Inquisition.) "So, you're dating."

"No!" The rebuff explodes off your tongue, full of exasperation. Jungkook nearly snorts into his own bowl, glad he'd been chewing bulgogi rather than drinking water.

"I'm lost."

(Join the club, he thinks. It's still the dumbest thing he's heard in the last week.)

"We're each other's dates. It sucks being alone for the holidays."

You speak as if from experience but your sister calls you on it immediately, without remorse. (It reminds him so much of how you’d rebuked him that he’s just a liiiittle gleeful, vindicated by the scowl that paints itself in broad strokes.)

"You're not alone. Our family is huge."

"I mean without a date!"

"You've always had a date." Because you were a serial monogamist, the complete opposite of Jungkook who hasn't dated since university, opting to throw himself into his work.

"Okay, but—"

It's hard to argue with someone who knows you so well. If Jungkook could read you like a book, Eunha had you memorised like flashcards for a test. Between the two of them, you could barely win an argument (and there were lots to be had, though almost always childish and not at all serious.)

"So, you're not dating."

"No."

"But you're dating."

"Holidating." Why you correct her, Jungkook's not sure. It's such a stupid thing - silly semantics - but you'd already talked him into it so he's not about to butt in. He's got kimchi to focus on and Christmas cake to devour.

"Okay, seriously."

He knows what those words mean. Essentially that he's in for it and there's nowhere to go, no escape in sight. Once Eunha set her sights on something, that was it. Job, husband, precocious daughter with a reading comprehension level beyond her years - if she wanted it, she got it.

So Jungkook's just a little wary, peering at your sister over the rim of his mug, expression deliberately blank.

"What's going on with you guys?"

He hates people who answer questions with questions. It's a waste of his time and yet here he is, glibly deflecting as if she won't give him shit like the older sister he's never had. (It's an apt description, considering your parents were as good as his.) "What do you mean?"

"What the hell is holidating?"

"Beats me." At least he’s being honest. He really, really doesn't know. Even after you'd set your rules (or rule, rather), it still hadn't made sense to him. It was doing everything you always did together - buying presents, having matching gift wrap, attending your friend group’s annual holiday parties - but with a label on it.

(If Jungkook were being honest, he'd say you'd just mucked things up by pointing it out. If you'd asked him to come to your family's Christmas dinner, he would've done so without an ounce of hesitation. Telling him he was and expressly saying don't make it weird had decidedly made it weird.)

"Do you like her?" Leave it to Eunha to completely eviscerate any possibility of a normal conversation.

He doesn't even need to consider the question, his answer coming before she's even finished speaking. "She's my best friend."

"Okay, but do you like her?"

"She's my best friend," he retorts, just as emphatically. (The two of them really were like siblings, bickering just as often as the two of you did.)

"That's not really an answer." Still, she won't let it go, stare hard, mouth set in that same forceful line. It's so reminiscent of your own stern glare, though infinitely more effective. Perks of being a mother, he supposes.

Put on the spot, it feels odd. Jungkook doesn't like the attention, naturally straying from the spotlight. (He works hard in his professional life to always be above reproach and easily deflects questions when it comes to his personal life.) Your sister isn't a force to be reckoned with, though, and he withers beneath her, discomfort stealing up his spine, knuckles blowing white around the ceramic handle of his cup. "I don't."

"Hm." It's evident she doesn't believe him, but he's not that bothered. Most people have asked the same question at least once. He's learnt not to care, focusing on the nearly two decades of friendship rather than any passing fancies.

(Because he can’t lie - he has liked you maybe once or twice. It'd been unavoidable, a simple consequence of being best friends. When you spent all your time with someone - someone who knew you inside out, who loved you unconditionally - it was easy to mistake platonic affection for something else. Jungkook just didn't have the time, though, and he certainly wasn't about to lose your friendship over something as silly as a fleeting crush.)

(Not that anyone knew that. Not you, not your cousin, not even Yoongi.)

"What?" Why he keeps the dialogue open, he's not sure. He should let it run its course, wave as it passes him by.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"You heard me, Jeon."

He lets it go then, falling into silence. It's only broken when you appear again, cream cake in hand. You settle beside him - your rightful spot - and hand him a fork, glee as bright as Christmas lights.

He doesn't miss the look your sister shoots the two of you.

It's not the first time he's seen you in a dress. You wear them regularly enough, practically living in them in the summer months.

Still, you look good. Incredible, in fact. The colour pops against your skin, a lovely blue that seems to be alive, dancing under the lights as you go for your third cream puff because no one can stand between you and your love of desserts. It complements the hue of his own suit, the textured fabric that gathers over his shoulders and stands in stark contrast to the white of his Oxford.

"You said that's your best friend?"

It's his manager, a lovely woman he's worked with for the past year and a half. She’s kind with a round face and softly lined eyes, someone who treats him more like a son than an underling. (Jungkook appreciates that about her, even if it's at odds with the culture of their workplace. She was just warm, endlessly friendly even when deals fell through and she was forced to pick up the pieces.)

"Yeah."

"She's very pretty," she hums, peering across the table at Jungkook with a peculiar expression. It reminds him of that same look Eunha had shot him just two days ago, a thousand unspoken words wrapped up in the dark of her stare. "How long have you two been friends?"

"Forever." At least, that's how it feels.

(If he thinks hard about it, he could probably pinpoint the age, the year, even the day. It wouldn't be hard, given you'd rolled into his life like a thunderstorm, upending everything in your path. But that's how you'd always been - simply who you were. People met you and they were better for it, whether they realised it or not.)

"That's very sweet."

He shrugs, swivelling his stare from your approaching figure to offer a small smile. "She means a lot to me." Even if she drives me insane, even if she gets cracker crumbs all over my couch.

There's that look again - Jungkook hates how easily it pins him to the spot, locking him in his seat as you take your own, setting your plate down. It's piled high with said cream puffs and an assortment of other goodies, fresh fruit and tarts and some chocolate bonbons that make his teeth buzz by just staring at them.

"Here." You've got one raised, held aloft in an offer he doesn't really want but accepts nonetheless. As predicted, the cocoa is too much, heavy on his tongue, burning through his gums and making his jaw clench uncomfortably. Still, he chews and swallows diligently, offering a quiet thank you as you pop one into your own mouth.

Someone speaks as he's sipping at his Manhattan and you're going for the finishing bite of your cream puff, soft white sugar tinting your lipstick. "You're a lovely couple."

Unlike that time a few days ago, seated in your kitchen, this time he does choke, liquid rushing down the wrong pipe. Chest heaving, he fights to steady his breath, vaguely aware of the way you rub soothing circles over his back. (It probably doesn’t help the situation - makes the two of you seem even more together than before - but he appreciates the gesture because holy hell, does whisky burn.)

“We’re not dating,” you state, somewhere close to his head, voice soft near his ear. You’re still touching him, calming the hacking coughs he hasn’t quite gotten control of.

“Really?” It comes from more than one person, joined by a nosy third.

Of course it’s Yugyeom - perhaps one of the people he’s closest to at his company, and yet someone who he very much wants to shut up at that precise moment. “We thought Jungkook had finally gotten a girlfriend.”

“Nope, not me.” You’re nonplussed, rebuffing the teasing with ease. “Just best friends. He didn’t want me sitting at home alone and thought free booze might help.” It’s not true at all; if anything, you’d been the one who hadn’t wanted to be alone for the holidays, but it doesn’t seem necessary to correct you right now.

Sometimes, it was just easier to go with the flow. Let you lead, as you so loved to do.

“What a nice guy.” Yugyeom’s a good friend and better team member but right now, he’s got the stupidest grin on his face, meeting Jungkook’s stare with mischief dancing in his own. It strikes discomfort like an ivory key, ringing loudly in his ears.

“He is.”

It’s probably more defensive than it needs to be - you were a woman of extremes, whether that meant sleeping all day or not at all, eating a salad or three plates of pasta - and he immediately moves to soothe you. (Oh, how the tables had turned.)

A hand falls to your knee, decorated digits squeezing reassuringly over the bare bone, touch featherlight. With his head bowed still, it’s easy to catch your eyes, an unspoken conversation playing out between you. Don’t, he cautions, with all the gratitude in the world.

Fine, he imagines you think, pout rounding into something softer, a semblance of a smile as you both straighten out.

“No one’s quite as nice as Jungkookie.”

Not your usual nickname for him but he appreciates the effort, the return to calm. It means more to him than you, because you understand just how important his image is, how much hard work he’s put into getting where he is. You might not have understood his job - software engineering? what? - but you understood him and that’s what mattered.

“Jeon, preheat the oven?”

Your sister’s bumbling around the kitchen with baking sheets in her hands, too large swaths of parchment paper lining each.

“Oh, sure.” He’d lost you almost as soon as the two of you had arrived, pulled off to the kitchen to start prep for your family’s annual baking night. He thinks he catches a glimpse of your big lopsided bun in the archway to the living room but he can’t be sure. It’s too chaotic, like being around a dozen of you.

Because your family was women-dominated, the only other men being your father, your uncle, and—

“Hyung!” It sounds more like thank god when he sees your cousin swan in, grocery bags full of ingredients hung in the crook of his elbows and clutched in his fists.

(It’s not that he doesn’t get along with your family. It’s just, again, a lot and he feels as if he might be the calm in the eye of the storm. It’s disconcerting.)

“Oh—” Surprise flits across the oldest Kim’s expression, windshield wipers swinging into action as he makes his way to Jungkook. Somehow, each of the bags are taken off his hands and he pulls the younger into a loose hug, ruffling his hair roughly. “Didn’t know you’d be here too.”

“____ dragged me along.” Or rather, their agreement had, but Jungkook’s not about to get into that. After the strong reaction from your sister, he’s not in the mood to explain himself for the nth time.

“She does that, huh?”

It’s rhetorical, because yes, you did. You had for most of your life, involving Jungkook in everything you could. From high school bake sales to college softball, anything you’d done, so had he. (The only exception to this was when you had a partner because for whatever reason, said partner would complain about how much time you spent with Jungkook.)

(Luckily, most of them learnt their place, learnt to share.)

“—might as well be dating.”

Surely there’s more to what Jin’s said than just that but he’s somehow missed it, attention swivelling back to the other in alarm. “What?”

“You guys might as well be dating.” There’s very little shame in the way your cousin repeats himself, switching the oven on, utterly unbothered. (Jungkook is reminded, not for the first time, how strong the Kim genes are - how you all just seem to be variations of the same person, headstrong and hilarious.) “Would probably save our relatives from losing their minds.”

True as that might be, Jungkook’s pretty sure he’d lose his instead.

Or maybe he already has. It feels like that, at least.

Nothing’s making sense the way it normally does, too much running through his head, alcohol dulling his senses. Liquor lingers on his tongue and he can smell it every time he speaks, every time he laughs. (Which he’s doing often and loudly, your usual corny jokes hitting their mark when he’s eight cocktails in and sleep-deprived. Such were the holidays.)

There’s just something about how you look right now, dressed all pretty in a slip that holds you like a lover. He’s not used to it, all of his attention drawn to things he’d never usually focus on.

How your mouth moves - gloss-slick and pouted, so enticing he nearly stops listening when you speak - or how you swat at his arm when you’re trying to drive your point home. (It hurts a little; you’re rough normally but drunk, you’re ten times more flippant, edge of nails digging crescents into flesh.) Your touch burns through his shirt, sinks all the way past cotton and skin into bone that turns to ash.

He’s gone crazy. He must have.

Why else would he want to kiss you so badly now, framed beneath the dimmed lights? Someone’s come and snatched up his body and he’s just along for the ride - simply an observer with no say of his own.

(Jungkook’s not sure what the feeling in his stomach is - whether it’s butterflies or nausea.)

All he knows is you’ve seen this movie a dozen, hundred, thousand times. Watched it with him, in fact. (The slow pan out, the close up, the kiss that follows. The rising crescendo as the two leads fall in love, profess their love and apology as if all it takes is five minutes together to create a happy ending.)

And yet, he takes you completely off-guard. You’re staring at him in that way you do - no, not that way, but the one that screams what’re you doing? - locked where you are, caught in the doorway as if you can’t make up your mind whether to go or stay.

Your lips are softer than he could’ve imagined, since he knows your lacklustre use of lip balm - has had to carry tubes of it in his own pockets because you were notorious for leaving them everywhere and otherwise losing them.

They’re warm and supple, not dry at all. A little tacky, in fact, with a strong cherry flavour. It cuts through the peppermint and chocolate, coalescing into something distinctly you. (Even drunk as he is, vision blurred at the edges and a funny feeling tingling through his limbs, he knows it’s his favourite thing he’s ever tasted.)

If only you weren’t staring up at him like a deer caught in headlights, equal parts alarm and an emotion he can’t quite read.

If only you hadn’t slammed your apartment door shut right in his face.

If only.

“I thought you were bringing ____?”

Of course it’s his mother who calls him out, drawing attention to the empty seat beside him. Your name’s etched into the placecard, neatly set atop the china that’s only brought out during the holidays.

“She was busy.” It’s a lie - straight through his teeth and paired with a quick glance to the side. No one notices, though. No one’s you, after all.

The truth is, Jungkook hasn’t spoken to you since that night. Sure, he’s stared at your name on his phone, watched your status go from offline to online, but he hasn’t said a single thing. Hasn’t found the courage he needs to start a conversation he’s definitely not ready to have.

(What was he supposed to say anyway? Hey, sorry for kissing you. Not sure why I did it but we’re good, right?)

(More than that, would it even be the truth? Did he really not know why he’d stopped you short, pressed his lips to yours and then stared down at you like you might’ve been the best Christmas gift in the world? Had it been nothing but alcohol-fueled idiocy?)

(He’s considered acting like it never happened, pretending as if everything’s the same as it’s always been. But that somehow feels worse, like lying to himself and he just doesn’t do that.)

“I asked you three days ago.” The morning of your Christmas party, in fact. Hours before he’d made the Big Mistake. What a great reminder.

Jungkook’s grateful for this poker face, expression devoid of emotion, tone clipped yet polite. “Something came up, eomma.” It’s an indication the conversation’s over, the question stopped dead in its tracks. He’d never outright tell his mother off - he’d die before doing so - but this is enough, has her nodding solemnly, topic changed almost seamlessly.

Someone asks about the latest acquisition by his father’s company, his cousin mentions he and his girlfriend are looking for a place, and everything feels normal.

Until it isn’t and his brother is bringing it up again, tone soft, coaxing, but insistent. Question poised in a way that only he could get away with as his older sibling. “What really happened?” At least Jung Hyun has the decency to keep his voice down, practically whispering the words to the younger Jeon.

“Nothing,” Jungkook grits out in between bites of his prime rib, spearing a piece of meat more aggressively than he needs to. (He doesn’t miss his mother’s glance from the edge of his periphery, the subtle thinning of her mouth. The concern is palpable, cutting through the white noise even after she’s refocused her attention, leaning back into whatever conversation she’d been having before.)

It’s brotherly love that compels Jung Hyun to push the envelope, force his little brother’s hand. He’s clearly worried as he reaches out, tapping the tines of his fork over decorated skin. “Doesn’t seem like nothing.”

“Can we not talk about this right now?” Despite patience wearing thin, discomfort turning him petulant and frustrated, Jungkook appreciates the effort his sibling is making. It’s not what he wants right now, but who was to say it wasn’t what he needed?

(There were just people who knew him better. His brother, his mother, you.)

“Then let’s get a drink.”

Ice clinks in his glass and he tries to ignore the way Jung Hyun’s stare feels like it’s melting him, eyes never straying from his little brother’s furrowed brow and hunched shoulders.

“So?”

“Nothing happened,” Jungkook says, exasperated, draining liquid in one fell swoop. He knows he’s thisclose to giving in, to laying everything out. It’s equal parts demoralising and relieving, knowing there’s finally someone he can talk to.

(He just doesn’t, well, talk usually. Emotions don’t get the best of him. It’s why he excels in his field, working to meet stressful deadlines, barely batting an eye when everything goes to shit the day before launch. Good as he was at most things, internalising was his thing.)

“C’mon, Kook.”

It’s the nickname that has him relenting, cage of his teeth groaning beneath the weight of his tribulations. One beat, two, a third and then a forth. He knows Jung Hyun’s about to try again.

“We kissed.”

“Holy shit.”

A laugh that isn’t quite a laugh comes, breaches the quiet and then echoes loudly. It’s derisive, not at all the gleeful witch’s cackle Jungkook normally offers. It’s dressed in thorns and regret and cuts his throat on its way up, leaving his breath to fall into a sad little sigh. “Yeah.”

“She wasn’t into it?”

That’s the thing, isn’t it? Jungkook has no idea and now days have passed and he feels like more of an idiot than he ever has. He’s sat with it for so long (in reality, not that long but tell that to someone who’s never out of control, whose entire life follows a set pattern) that it’s all just become a jumbled mess, taking up too much space in his thoughts and leaving him confused.

“I don’t think so.” If your abrupt closing of the door was any indication, you likely hated it - but he also didn’t want to assume. He needed an answer, a decisive yes or no.

(Though, he doesn’t think he’ll survive if you turn him down. If he’s just ruined nearly two decades of friendship, it’s more likely he’ll hole up in his apartment and only come out after using up all of his vacation time to wallow in self-pity.)

(Which is in and of itself not a very Jungkook-like thing to do, so he already knows he’s screwed. Knows that no matter what, he’s out of mind and out of sorts and will likely shoot himself in his own foot before he makes any progress.)

(See his problem? He’s already gone crazy.)

Jung Hyun’s patient though, doing for him what he’s always done for you. Talking him off that ledge, holding his hand while he nearly spirals into oblivion. “You don’t think so?”

“Well, she slammed the door in my face.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Silence stretches, pulls on and on above their heads, and Jungkook wishes he hadn’t finished his drink so quickly. The burn would help right about now, distract him from the way he’s picking at a hangnail. Maybe it’d give him the liquid courage he needs to just do something. Anything.

“You should talk to her.”

“Did you not just hear what I said? She slammed—”

“But did she say anything?”

“I think that’s a pretty loud and clear answer, hyung.”

“You never know. Maybe she was just surprised.”

“And maybe she hates me.”

“I mean, probably, but—”

“Thanks, hyung.” Still, Jungkook laughs - can’t help it when his brother shoots him a grin that mirrors his own. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“For once, can you just listen to your big brother?”

As it turns out, Jungkook can’t. Outright refuses and suffers through another three days of radio silence. Sees you, again, crop up on social media, beaming up at him from the small of his screen. Watches as you make a mess of Jin’s kitchen and end up with a face covered in red icing, as you sit your niece on your shoulders and run around your apartment while belting awful Christmas carols.

Maybe it’s his fault for checking Instagram so much, for clicking on every single story your friends and family post.

He misses you. God, how he misses you.

(Since the day you’d cemented yourself as his best friend, he doesn’t think he’s gone more than a day without talking to you, more than a week without seeing you. This is fraying his nerves, leaving him needy and wrought with anxiety.)

(This is why best friends don’t date, why he’d have preferred to take his feelings to the grave.)

You’re so far away that he half expects not to see you at the annual New Year’s Eve party, the one he’s responsible for hosting this year.

When you appear in his doorway, three wine bottles clutched in your arms, he’s not sure who’s more surprised. (You, somehow, wrangle your expression into something else - a brilliant smile that doesn’t quite meet your eyes - and he simply stares, speechless. He catches it though, that twinkle of uncertainty before it’s eclipsed.)

“Hi.” Of course you sound the same as you always have. Bright, sunny, with a million rays of light streaming past your teeth. “Happy new year!”

It takes Jungkook far too long to find his voice, lost to the warmth of your smile that doesn’t feel quite right. Too forced, burning through his skin until he’s uncomfortable and itchy under the collar. “Hi.”

You’d normally peck his cheek, give him a hug, something. You blame it on the bottles you’re carrying, shuffling past him without making contact, held in your own personal bubble. “I’ve got to set these down but we’ll catch up later, yeah?” It’s not a promise and not what he wants. You’re going to disappear for the rest of the night and he’s going to be left soothing this sunburn.

He doesn’t say that, though. Only nods mechanically and watches as you dance off. “Sure.”

You deserve a medal, a gold star for how well you avoid him throughout the night, peeking in and out of rooms. Any time Jungkook catches a glimpse of you, you’re gone in the next instant, disappearing behind one of your friend’s backs, suddenly in need of a refill.

The one time it’s just the two of you in the hallway - him coming from the washroom, you presumably heading there - you spin on your heel and turn tail, gone so quickly he wonders if it was his imagination.

Were you really that mad? Had he fucked things up that badly?

“____,” he calls the next time he finds you - hours later, much to his chagrin - alone in the kitchen with champagne in one hand and your head ducked into his fridge. It’s less than a minute to midnight and everyone’s gathered outside, crowded along his balcony and cheering loudly in anticipation of the Coex fireworks. (He’d purposely come back in, awkwardly trailed after you when you’d offered to grab another bottle.)

You don’t immediately turn and he worries you haven’t heard. How stupid would he look if he tried again? (Were you just ignoring him?)

But then you’re facing him, that same mask from earlier fitted unnecessarily across your face. Your eyes are tight, unblinking, even as you smile, cock your head adorably. “What’s up?”

“Can we talk?” It’s not something he asks of you often. (In fact, he could probably count the amount of times he’s made the request on one hand.) He holds his ground though, mouth slipping into a characteristic pout that he thinks - hopes, really - might crumble your resolve.

(You may have known all of his weaknesses but he knew yours too. Knew how cute you found his puppy dog eyes, the round of his cheeks when he’d puff them out with air.)

There’s momentary clarity, your stare softening, the line of your jaw growing slack. Then you’re glancing past him, out to the gaggle of people beyond his shoulder and he feels his heart stutter uncomfortably, stomach dropping all thirty-six stories past his feet. “Can it wait?” You’re not cruel, offering the question softly.

It can’t. He can’t.

“No.”

You huff and he swears he mirrors the motion, same annoyed exhale slipping out.

(If he’d hated the silence, he thinks he might hate this more. The two of you don’t fight. Bicker, certainly. Drive each other crazy for fun, definitely. But this antagonism that makes him feel like a stranger in his own home? This is new and awful.)

“What do you want to talk about?” You’re guarded, arms crossed. All Jungkook wants to do is unfold them and bring you into his arms, tickle your sides until you’re whining and laughing and giving him the affection he suddenly craves.

(He’s never wanted it more in his life and maybe that’s why it’s so strong now - need leaping five octaves in a single breath. It’s as if he’d been deprived all his life and now he’s had a taste and can’t help himself.)

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, quiet, so much emotion threaded into the words. It turns them heavy, makes them hard to hold, but he needs to get them out, make you understand how apologetic he really is.

“For what?”

He hadn’t expected that. “What?”

“What’re you sorry for?” You’re repeating yourself with a scowl but you’re also doing that thing you do, nibbling at your bottom lip as you try not to meet his eyes, bouncing your gaze around the room.

(Were you nervous? He could’ve sworn you were.)

The question still doesn’t have an answer, all his thoughts swirling in a tumultuous wave. They sweep him out to sea, away from the safety of the shore, and he worries he might drown as he looks at you and sees all the things he might lose.

“Kook?”

Say something.

Seconds tick by and you’re biting harder now. The crowd outside is louder, chanting the countdown. He can barely hear himself think, has trouble articulating the onslaught of emotion that swells and swallows him whole. Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed this. Maybe things would’ve gone back to normal if he’d left well enough alone.

A million what if’s play in his head - and then he hears a chorus of happy new year!

He crosses to you in three long steps, catches your face in his hands, and kisses you again, just like last time.

It’s not an answer in the traditional sense but he doesn’t care.

His apology comes once more, muffled against your lips, lost to a breath he inhales shakily, entire body rattling with uncertainty. At least you haven’t pushed him away, though he swears you’re ready to, palms warm over his chest, fingers curled into the collar of his sweater.

“Stop saying that.”

He thinks he’s imagined that, pulling back just enough to see the entirety of your expression, the dazed look in your eyes. So different from last time, endlessly softer, tender. “What?”

“If you’re going to kiss me,” you’re speaking into his chest but he can hear you crystal clear, “just commit to it.”

He will. He does.

He kisses you again, sweet and chaste, one hand threaded into the silk of your hair, the other cradling your jaw. He kisses you for a third time, different yet the same, riddled with nerves and reminiscent of childhood crushes. He kisses you once more, nearly groans when he steals the prettiest sound from your lips.

Jeon Jungkook is on cloud nine - lit up like the night sky because he can still hear the fireworks going off.

“Is this okay?�� How he manages to ask when every fibre of his being is screaming at him to keep going is a feat and he’d be patting himself on the back if you weren’t so lovely, holding all of his attention in the frame of your smile.

“Can you just stop thinking for one second?”

He wants to say yes - prove himself as he always does - but he knows that’s exactly the opposite of what you want. Reads it in your movements, how you step closer and bat those long lashes at him. How’s he supposed to function when you’ve short-circuited his insides?

But that’s the point, isn’t it? To let himself feel?

Maybe you were right, just this once.

Jungkook has simply watched too many rom-coms, sat through too many Hallmark specials you’d insisted on. (You loved them, even when the plots were awful and the acting was worse, the leads misunderstanding even the most basic of things. “It’s cute,” you’d cry, glaring at him from behind a glaze of tears, sniffling into your popcorn when everything went to hell right before the perfectly wrapped up climax.)

Because this doesn’t feel anything like he expects it to. It’s still too awkward and stilted, framed by fluttering, nervous laughter and a tremor in his hands he’s never dealt with before.

(If he thinks hard about it, he knows exactly why it’s like this. Why he’s so uncertain as he guides your shirt over your head, the same soft thing he’s seen you wear a thousand times. How the fabric bunches in his fists and spills like silk between his knuckles. The way his heart does a strange two-tap against his rib cage, as if tapping out and giving up.)

(He’s been waiting for this for longer than he could’ve ever imagined, than he ever thought possible.)

“What?” You ask, chirp in that lilting voice of yours, so sugar spun sweet and cocoa-dusted. A mug of hot chocolate that warms him from the inside out, makes his head spin with how nice it sounds, settling against his eardrums like cotton balls. There’s hesitation in your eyes - a sparkle of his same restlessness that calms his own just a little.

“What?” He repeats back at you, maybe a little dumbly.

(It probably is dumb. He’s got your shirt halfway off your body, your arm still hooked through one arm hole, the rest of your body in fuzzy focus as he stares down at you.)

“You’re staring like I’ve got something on my face.”

“You don’t.”

“Then why are you staring?”

He asks himself that same question, turns it over and over in his head. It’d make sense for him to consider his words carefully, weigh them before they come tumbling out of his mouth. (He doesn’t.) “You’re really pretty.”

The laugh that elicits should be illegal, chiming bells that scrunch up your nose and have your lashes casting dark shadows across your cheeks.

“You think so?”

Of course he does. He always has - he just hadn’t realised it. “Yeah.”

It’s not plucked straight from a movie scene, nor is it likely the things dreams are made of. It still feels just as good when you smile at him - offer the thing he’s found home in for the last decade and a half - and reach a hand to his face, cradling his jaw in the small of your palm. It’s so warm he wonders whether you’ve got stardust lined beneath your skin, whether you’re working those little fragments of wonder into his own being where you touch him.

“I want this.” It’s music to his ears. He’d like to hear you say it again, which you do, with a tenderness he doesn’t expect. Not the teasing tone you normally take, riddled with half-formed thorns and platonic affection, but something more. Something that burns bright in his bones and illuminates him from the inside. “I want you. You don’t have to be so shy.”

So you’d been able to tell, because of course you had. Just as you knew when he was lying, you knew every other tell too. (The way he’d touch his ears when he was excited, how he’d sit on his hands when he was shy, the three octaves his voice would skip when he was nervous. You knew them all and wanted him despite them - because of them.)

He supposes he’s grateful for it, even as it only adds to the bashfulness swelling in his chest, blooming colour over his cheeks.

“Yeah?” God, Jungkook, get it together.

“Yeah,” you parrot, laughing as you tug your arm from its vice and proceed to loop both around his neck, bringing him closer.

It’s a position you’ve been in a dozen times - arms around his neck, going for a hug - but this stirs something else. Shoots a dizzying bolt of desire straight from his toes to the tips of his fingers. It branches out from his chest, weaving into every limb, guiding him closer until he’s chest to chest, the warmth of you filling all the spaces between.

“Don’t forget you asked for it,” he rumbles, tries to sound like someone he isn’t by the way he offers the words, tries to come across cool and suave and not so into his best friend that it could send him straight to a padded white room.

You call him on it immediately, rolling your eyes and patting his cheek affectionately. “Do your worst, Jeon.”

Whether it’s a challenge or not, he takes it as such, one arm caging you in by your head, the other falling to his side. Your side. Where fingers graze, inked digits drifting up the velvet that spans your ribs, that traces delicate over the lace that holds you together. Bright red with scallop trimming - something he never imagined you’d wear but that he adores all the same. It looks so good on you, a cardinal that demands his attention even as he tries to focus on the emotions that dance in your stare, forming your mouth into a smile that gives him heart palpitations.

“You mean best,” he mumbles, meeting your eyes one last time before lids are sliding shut, movements guided by the familiarity that only comes with years and years together.

When your lips meet - for only the fifth time in his twenty-five years - it’s nothing like the first and yet strangely similar. It’s just as soft as that initial peck, tentative and sweet. Filled with things he can’t say, that he’s not sure how to articulate but that he hopes you understand.

It’s nice, he thinks.

And then you’re kissing him back. Really kissing him, taking the lead when he doesn’t expect it. Slanting your mouth over his, nibbling at his bottom lip in the same way he’s watched you do to your own.

Holy shit.

As much as he doesn’t want it to end - can’t get enough of the taste of you, how faded cherry Chapstick and champagne and that god awful spearmint gum you love melds together - he has to stop. Needs to reel himself back before you’ve pulled him beneath your spell, left him stranded with nowhere to go.

“What?” You ask again, feigned innocence stamped across your face. A mask that looks so pretty he can’t help but glare down at you.

He’s not sure how he means his next words but they come freely, tumbling past his teeth with more grit than he expects. “Don’t be a bad girl.”

Something changes then. Snaps into place like every little part of the universe has aligned. A realisation that hits him straight in the gut and has your fingers curling into the downy strands at the nape of his neck.

When your lips meet again - sixth time, because Jungkook’s got to keep count - it’s not soft. It isn’t sweet. It’s years of something he’d never been able to place, the greatest Christmas gift he could’ve ever asked for. It’s your tongue against his, your teeth sharp and searing and it’s him, hugging you so close he wonders whether it’s his kiss that’s making you breathless or how tightly he’s holding you.

“What if I want to be?”

God, he could laugh at that. He almost does, the sound spilling past in a shaky exhale.

(Part of him knows how utterly cheesy he’s being. How utterly cheesy you’re being. He doesn’t mind. He’s not lactose intolerant, after all.)

“You wanna be on the naughty list?” Even it sounds silly to his ears, torn straight from the books of some weirdo pickup artist. You’re laughing though, giggling because you’ve never found him anything but endearing (okay, probably not true, but whatever) and that’s enough.

“Maybe.”

“You’re crazy.” He means it as kindly as possible, in the best way imaginable.

“Crazy for you,” you correct, smug.

Jeon Jungkook is composed. He’s smart and responsible and looks at the big picture. He doesn’t let things get to him and he certainly doesn’t gape like a fish. His poker face is immaculate (which is probably why he’s no longer invited to his friend’s games).

Except he is - gaping, that is - staring down at you with wonder. “Really?”

There’s another roll of your eyes, prominent and exaggerated. He knows there’s nothing bad meant by it so he lets it slide, doesn’t pull away even as he repeats himself.

“How many times do I have to tell you, Jeon?”

“Preferably a lot more.” He’s shameless. Figures he’s allowed to be, after waiting all this time. (After kissing you in a drunken stupor, after wallowing in his own self-imposed exile for too many days. This is what he deserves - to take and take if you’re so ready to give.)

“Then earn it.”

“Fine.”

There were different kinds of satisfaction, different ways to swell pride in his chest. A multitude of methods he could excel at, to receive all the praise he’s always been so eager for. Pleasure from a job well done, for going above and beyond, doing things better than anyone else could’ve. Delight from being right, from a smug I told you so. Triumph from conquering the hardest of tasks, overcoming something mighty and terrible.

And then there was this - the warmth that unfurls in his chest, stringing his heart up in pretty pink ribbon, holding his head aloft like a marionette doll.

It’s something else entirely, fizzling delight in his stomach, feeding the beast that demands more more more.

“Good girl,” he praises, offering his adoration without hesitation, dressing you in the glory of his affection. Gone is the careful reluctance, the removed politesse. It’s replaced now, dripping in sweetness so thick it might as well be molasses, trickling over your skin as his tongue does the same. He traces your hip, your thigh, your hands - pulls a digit past his lips and savours in the reaction it elicits. “Pretty girl.”

He repeats the motions over and over, gliding figure eights with the wet of his tongue, gently grazing the edge of his teeth when you’ve calmed, too close to composure for his liking.

“You’re so good for me.” One hand hooks possessive around your knee, pushes it wide as he admires you laid out beneath him. Skin flushed, he can feel your warmth radiating through every inch. It begs him to come closer, to sit by the fire a little while longer.

With a tender kiss to the velvet of your inner thigh, he drops, seals his mouth over your clit and sucks. You buck beneath him, might take out an eye with the way your arms flail, fingers seeking stability over his shoulders, digging into the firm muscle that pads his back. He can’t help but laugh, sound vibrating through to your core, tongue punishing against the delicate pearl sealed between his lips.

“Another?” He begs, pleads, asks so sweetly, and you can’t deny him, glazed over in the eyes, chest heaving, hands shaking. He knows you can’t but he asks anyway, because it’s important you want this just as much as him. (Jungkook refuses to be in the dark ever again, far too comfortable in the light of your laughter, your love.)

“Please,” you return, though it’s the strangest he’s ever heard you. Out of breath and reedy, stilted in a way that makes his cock twitch, head spinning with desire.

(It doesn’t matter you’ve gone two rounds and he can’t possibly survive another. You do something to him.)

A quiet sound comes and he sinks further, licks a fat stripe from your slick entrance all the way to your quivering clit. Dips his tongue past clenching muscle and moans, drunk on the taste of you. It’s a messy affair and he can’t be blamed, saliva pooling in his mouth when you whine his name and pull his hair just right. (You’ve always been loud but he’d never imagined this. It’s a soundtrack he’d like on repeat.)

“Let go for me, pretty girl.” The pet name comes easily, made for you. (Even before all this, Jungkook would’ve been lying if he’d said you weren’t pretty. You were gorgeous, beautiful, captivating.) “Tell me what you need.”

You sob, yank at his roots, and he chuckles, gliding his tongue up your slit.

“Use your words, ____.”

“M-more.”

“More?” He repeats, deceptively sweet, eyes glossy and warm and filled to the brim with emotion. Round like Bambi’s as he presses a finger into your heat, sinks straight to the third knuckle and nearly loses his mind from the way you gasp. You’re honey-dipped and yielding, supple and slick beneath his hands, his tongue, his mouth.

It’s like a drug - the sound of your voice so drastically different. Higher, breathless, sinful as it sinks against Jungkook’s eardrums and encourages him to bring you to a spectacular finish. He wants to hear more of it, needs it like he needs air.

You’re a beautiful mess, so close to the edge he can feel your walls constrict around him when he adds another two fingers, fucks into you with purposeful twists of his wrist. He’s certain the oversensitivity must hurt but you’re so good for him, taking all he has to offer and begging for more.

His name is a staccato cry, a symphony of sound that breaks when he curls his fingers and assaults the bundle of nerves against your front wall.

It’s only fitting you usher in the new year with a bang.

The next morning comes in fragmented bits and pieces, paired with a headache that sits right behind his eyes and aches his limbs. As much as he’d like to pretend otherwise, he’s not the spry spring chicken he used to be. The shots of tequila don’t go down the way they did before, the all-night parties forcing him to sleep for a good twelve hours to recover.

Last night was worth it though. Six hundred million percent worth it.

You’re still in his arms, curled against his chest, cheek smooshed to his arm which has all but gone numb. He won’t move it, though. Couldn’t even dream of it when you’re strangely peaceful, features arranged so pretty. You’re usually the biggest ball of energy - sometimes too much - and this is nice.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get over how nice.

Jungkook can’t stop touching you, needs to be near you, revolving around you like some sort of poor lost planet. Circles you when you drift into the kitchen, shower-warm and adorable.

(Has he always been like this? It doesn’t feel wrong - just more of the same. But again. More more more.)

“Can we get coffee?” You don’t seem to mind the way he drapes himself across your back, indulging in the way you smell like him but not. How the clean scent of his body wash seems about a dozen times better when it’s laid over your skin. “If we’re going to make it to my cousin’s, I need caffeine.”

He doesn’t doubt that. He’s seen the way you drain three cups before noon on your bad days, so jittery by 2 p.m. that he worries for your heart.

“We have to go grab ingredients anyways, right?”

“Yeah - Jin will murder me if we show up empty-handed.”

That, Jungkook doubts. The two of you were inseparable - two sides of the same weird Kim-coin. If anything, he’d pat your cheek, give you a faux reprimand, and that’d be it. (Jin always made too much food anyways, or so you said. It’s why you always brought your best friend leftovers, so much food shoved into ceramic containers that he wouldn’t have to cook for at least a week.)

“What’re we making again?” If he stops to consider it, he’d probably remember. He’s got a good memory - great, in fact - but right now he’s too occupied, distracted by the way your hair tickles his chin, the warmth radiating off you as he traps you between himself and the kitchen counter.

“Banana brulee hotteok!”

Right. He’s had them before, when he was your guinea pig the first year you started making them. They’d been terrible then, though he really had no idea how you’d managed to mess them up. He’d powered through it, though. Devoured the sickly sweet pancakes until he’d felt as if he’d explode.

Just best friend things or something.

Friend things.

Friend.

He realises, standing there in his kitchen, that he has no idea what the two of you are now. The realisation startles him, leaves him terribly still even as you extract yourself from his arms, halfway out of the kitchen before you turn around.

“Kook?” You’ve got his keys in one hand and his favourite hoodie in the other. It’s, again, so familiar and yet not. Tinged with something he’s not quite sure how to approach, that keeps him staring at you without really seeing.

You repeat yourself, a little louder this time.

“What are we?” Was it too soon to ask? Was he pushing for something? (More importantly, was that bad? Would you turn him down even after last night?)

By the expression on your face - a blend of amused and surprised - he thinks not. You’re smiling too big, mouth stretched wide and your cheeks so doughy they might as well be bread. It’s how you look when you’re at your happiest. (Like that time you saw those two dogs riding with that guy on his bike or when you perfected your hotteok recipe and your grandmother had showered you in praise. It’s the thing that outshines the sun, dazzling to look at it, blinding in its intensity.)

There’s a chorus of laughter in your voice when you step back, retrace your path back to him. He wonders how he keeps his eyes on you, how his sight hasn’t been stolen by those glittering golden rays. “What do you think we are?”

He answers honestly, because that’s the kind of guy Jungkook is. Practical, reasonable, forward. (Sometimes, at least.) “I don’t know.”

Your laughter sweeps his concerns up in its hands, folds them into neat paper cranes. It coaxes them from their hiding spots and dispels them like summer dragging over the horizon. When your hand finds his, fingers twining together - familiar, different, familiar, different - you squeeze and he swears he feels it all the way in the centre of his chest, in perfect rhythm with the erratic beat of his heart.

“We can be anything you want to be.”

Would that really be okay? He’s used to asking for the things he wants - comes with the territory of being a workaholic type A personality, always eager for more, to impress and wow and simply do well. Still, he hesitates, just a bit, coherence seemingly stolen.

“Well?” You squeeze again, knuckles knocking together, and he finds his confidence between the bones, threaded into the skin that spans over his.

“We’re together.” He says it unsure but so hopeful. Not even his stutter can deter him.

Your repetition is an affirmation and a promise, sealed with a kiss that tastes like forever. “We’re together.”

So you’re late. Just a half an hour. It can’t be that big of a deal. You were always late for things, dragging Jungkook to your level of irresponsibility with just one bat of your lashes, one sing-song breath.

(For once, he doesn’t mind. It’d been his fault, after all. Who was he to deny you when you’d had sugar coating your fingers and your lips, a treat that begged to be indulged in? He was only a man and he was so into you. He couldn’t have possibly said no when you’d kissed him once, praised him for his help torching the bananas atop the hotteok. He couldn’t have said no when you’d fed him a still-warm piece, slipping a digit past his lips, pad of your finger brushing over his tongue.)

(He’d spent most of his life saying no to you but he wanted to say yes now.)

“Jin—” You’ve taken five steps forward, five steps into the home that’s bustling with noise, when he rounds on you, windshield wiper laugh coming to a screeching halt.

“Finally!”

Jungkook thinks you must blush in tandem by how Jin’s stare bounces between the two of you. (The silly voice in his head insists that he knows, that your cousin knows exactly why you’re both late. But he can’t, because that’d be crazy, right?)

(You’d brushed your hair and washed your face; he’d fixed his clothes and pulled a thick sweater on to hide the tiny bruise you’d left despite his protests. The two of you were perfectly acceptable, picturesque when you’d strode through that door.)

(And yet Jin keeps staring at him, at you, full mouth drawn into a thin line.)

(What?)

“What?” The question doesn’t mean to come, tripping off Jungkook’s tongue of its own accord.

When Jin turns his full attention to him, the younger feels like he might just leap out of his skin. He’s never been uncomfortable around your family but there’s just something—

“You did it.”

“Did what?” His cousin? Well, he’s not wrong but surely—

“You freaking did it!”

“Did what?” This time it’s you, exasperated and awkward, shoving the plate of hotteok toward Jin even while you refuse to meet his stare. It’s painfully obvious you’re hiding something. You’ve never really had a great poker face.

“You owe me dinner.”

Now that throws Jungkook for a loop, tears all of his focus from you to your cousin.

“What?” It seems to be a popular word tonight, uttered at every available interval.

“____ didn’t tell you?” Jin looks as if he’s on the brink of losing it, shoulders shaking, restrained laughter spilling past his lips. “I bet her you guys would end up together at some point. She said I was crazy.” There’s pride in his eyes, glittering when he slaps his hand out, palm face up. “Pay up.”

You won’t even look at Jungkook, smacking your cousin’s hand away as you push past.

“We’re holidating,” you say, just like you said that first night when you’d brought your best friend along and your family members - at least, the ones he’d never met before - had all but pounced on the appearance of a newcomer.

A smile splits Jungkook’s mouth as you stomp away, disappearing into the kitchen. He’s not even bothered when he pulls his wallet out, offering Jin his winnings like a gracious loser. “We’re actually dating.”

Your cousin doesn’t bat an eye, pocketing the neatly folded bills. “About time.”

Jungkook thinks so too.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @codeinebelle @jeonmisha @devilion14 @bobbyboops @yxnxxli

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rein4r1 · 3 years

Text

I’m Getting You Out

Warning/s: Familial Abuse, Implied Depression, Sex, Not proofread

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Smut

Pairing: [MODERN AU] Eren x F!Reader

AN: I’m still practicing on writing smut I promise. English isn’y my first language so...

Eren promises to get you out of that f*cking hellhole

Statistics are numerical figures resulting from research. And statistics show that one in seven children are exposed to abuse at home.

To become a part of a whole is to be subjected in a fractional value in a case of one of many. Just another victim. Just another unfortunate case.

You have wished for nothing more but to be treated as a person, a human being. Society should have spared people like you from becoming into something inanimate. When at home, you are nothing but an object of captivity, breed to become an investment in a capitalistic dystopia.

You grew up feeling nothing but a bruised porcelain doll. They used you, in many ways you couldn’t even count. From being treated as their personal punching bag, to an insurance that is meant to project the contradicting state inside of your home whenever you face your parents’ friends.

Every moment you make is monitored by invisible cameras. That’s why they say the walls have ears, and the ceiling have eyes. Do you even get to decide for yourself? Everything you do has been regulated to their ideals. “It’s because we love you.”

You are nothing but a dumbed down version of a golden child. Used as a puppet, nothing more and nothing less. They do it because they love you. And you believe it.

You have never prayed for anything, God is nothing but a being who abandoned you. But for once in your life, you have never wished for something, and its in a form of a young handsome boy named Eren Jaeger.

The irony of wishing someone you once hated. You hated him at some point, but only because you know what he said about your family is true. That “your family is nothing but leeching bastards who even sucked their child dry.”

Deep down, Eren’s straightforward comment haunted you. And hearing it from someone so transparent, made you anxious. You needed to hear it, but the creeping anxiety says otherwise.

And because you blame yourself for being like this, you hated Eren Jaeger.

Eren was wrong, for saying it straight of the bat. He even got Armin to hit him for saying something overwhelming.

He was wrong for saying it right out of the blue, but what he said is nothing but the unequivocal truth.

He knows your parents, leechers of society. Leeching of his wealthy father. He hated them, but not as much as you do.

He saw you in the winter of his sophomore year in university. There you stood like a statue, with restrained movements. He wanted to hate you too, but seeing that you’re your parents worst victim. Made him see them as devils.

He didn’t pity you, Eren and freedom are one. He believed that you should be free of the cage that reduced you into your parents’ slave. He knows you have your wings, and you can fly. You just need help.

He talked to his therapist once, about a bird with their claws tied. He knows that the only way for the bird to fly is if they used its wings, but he wants to help it destroy its cage.

So he did, the moment Eren decides to become your friend, you felt there was something wrong. Something wrong in the status quo. Like a change in the grand scheme of things. It wasn’t sudden per say, but there is a shift. And you don’t mind it.

Having Eren is like finding comfort in a state of distress, it felt like breathing fresh air in an area saturated with pollution. For you once in your life, you get to feel what freedom is all about. That you get to be unorthodox in a way your parents wouldn’t imagine.

And maybe that’s how you fell in love with him. As much as you believe that God should beg for your forgiveness, you begged him to let you be with the person you love.

The attraction wasn’t one-sided. That the more Eren spent time with you, he gets to be with the you that the universe failed to see. The you who made the mundane things in life enjoyable. The you who’s eyes light up in watching every studio ghibli film. The you who is Eren’s girl. His girl.

You have sought his heart and he is willingly giving you every piece of vulnerability. Because you are the girl that the Eren Jaeger loves.

And now he gets to say it, confessing your love under an oak tree in campus. And he gets to say it to you, whisper it to you in the secluded corner of the library where you get to share kisses in secret.

And he gets to say it out of the blue, when you order your coffee and you ask for his. “Baby, I love you so much.” And every letter and every word never fails to trigger the butterflies.

And he gets to say it with you at night, whenever he sneaks into your room. His touch claiming every piece of your skin. His kisses traveling all over your body. And when he’s deep inside you, he whispers his love to you.

“I love you baby, God I- Fucking love you. Feel so good around me.”

“You’re so- so good to me baby f-fuck.”

And you’re beautiful like this, getting lost in the pleasure he gives you. “Baby please cum for me- baby please.” And you do, he fills you of him straight after, marking you as his with his cum.

You’re his, and he’s yours. Such simplicity in complexity.

Eren is no good person, he knows he would kill for you, set the world in flames for you. But as much as he wants to fall into his instinct, he respects you so much, that he has become your loyal servant. Ready to go to war for you.

That’s why every time he consoles your crying figuring, reasons of what they had done to you, again. Everything turned red, the word “fight” repeating in his head again and again until you begged him to just take you into his arms, and fuck you until you forget the horrors of in the form of the people who gave birth to you.

But on this particular moment, something was off. Seeing the bruises on your skin has completely set him off. God forbids he sees your parents, because he will become a criminal you’ll hate.

But you don’t want him to kill for you, because killing means he’ll be dragged away into some worn down prison, and you fear for him. But you fear for losing him the most.

He place his hands on your cheeks wiling away the tears that continue to betray your godly eyes.

“I promise to get you out of there baby fuck- I PROMISE” And he embraced you once more, because this time he’ll forcefully open the cages to your prison.

He kept his promise, because two days after that, you left everything behind. Destroyed all your photos that tells of your life in this hell. They don’t get to remember who you are. They don’t deserve that.

And from that day, the bird flew with its wings. Claiming back its freedom and happiness. Now with the person you love.

#eren x reader #eren smut #eren fluff #eren jaeger #eren yeager #aot #snk #aot x reader #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk x reader #aot imagines #snk imagines #attack on titan x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger x reader #tw abuse #tw depression #tw smut

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hollyhomburg · 3 years

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Of Fire and Love (Pt. 7)

(Dragon! Yoongi x Reader) (Fantasy au!) (Coe-parenting au)

Summary: You dream, nightmares and sweet memories- Yoongi just tries to hold onto you as best he can but he’s never felt so lonely.

Genre: Fantasy! au, gender exploration, Coe parenting au, Dragon! Yoongi x Reader, Dragon! Hoseok x Sorcerer! jungkook, Minjoon, Taejin

W/c: 20.0k

Tags: Angst, loss of hold on reality, violence, non-explicit sexual content (taejin), possessive behavior, genderfluid characters, gender non conforming characters, gender exploration, alcohol mention,

A/n: For those of you who've followed this story you’ll know that I’ve teased there being a hopekook relationship and this chapter touches on their relationship a lot. i dont think it will make anyone uncomfortable because its explicitly stated their love is not sexual- but just a heads up!

- Hoseok and Jungkook cling to the side of a building, their feet gripping the bare inch bricks just narrowly. This library is old, with drafty long hallways and a crumbling facade that doesn't help their predicament, every other brick crumbles when they step to it.

- Every few shimmies Jungkook’s feet slip a little and fear lurches in his gut. he uses every bit of his body to cling. Hoseok has no such misgivings about falling into open space- now the arrows- that might frighten him. Their backs are weighed down with books that make it hard to move, while arrows clang below them against the red stone.

- One almost hits Jungkook’s head and Hoseok shoves it closer to the wall. Panic keeping it laced in Jungkook’s hair, “Keep your head in you idiot!” he shouts over the din and clank of metal armor. The nights and soldiers below them that gather. Every metallic clink against the stone another person come to kill them. Jungkook only grins, but flinches when one strikes closer to Hoseok’s head.

- Searching for books in the human realm isn’t an easy task. Not when all too often they face opposition like this. The humans might be semi-hostile to Jungkook but everyone is out for dragon blood. Enough of the men from this area have already been sent west to the war, but the sheer number of arrows shows that there are still soldiers here guarding this stronghold.

- They hadn’t been here until Jungkook and Hoseok had been spotted. It had been Jungkook’s fault. Dropping a book that echoed loudly- then someone had seen Hoseok’s horns when his hood had fallen and it was all over from there- they’d been made.

- One arrow pins Hoseok’s shirt to the brick as they shimmy along and he rips it loose without a second thought. He can’t shift when it’s like this- it’s too dangerous. Too likely that one of those arrows would hit him and hurt him- unless- “Kookie? any day now!?” Jungkook’s wide eyes are a balm against Hoseok’s frustration, lighting up with blue magic when he puts two and two together. “Oh! Sorry- I’ve got it!”

- The push-pull tide of magic fills the air, trembling with it as Jungkook’s arm glows bright blue along with the whites of his eyes. Every time Jungkook uses his magic Hoseok feels a protective pride flare. Especially when he hears and sees the arrows fall to the ground with a few dozen thuds. Another soldier tries to loose one and it falls like it’s made of lead. Maybe it actually is- maybe that’s the avenue the magic has chosen to take to stop the arrows.

- The soldiers below them stop their flurry brought to awe as the magic makes everything still (even them). The rust crusts in the joints of the armor bringing it to a squeaky halt. The break in the fighting finally gives him an opening to shift. And soon Hoseok is clinging to the side of the tower with claws instead of hands, wings stretching and fluttering. Jungkook gets on his back, a difficult maneuver with the precious books held close.

- One of them slips out and falls onto the stone, and Hoseok swings back around so that Jungkook can lean from his back, hooking his foot around one of Hoseok’s spines and reaching to scoop it up before he rights himself- abdominal muscles straining As he leans over and snatches it from the rooftop.

- Hoseok makes a noise and Jungkook interprets it. “Who you calling a showoff?“ he grins then settles in for a long flight back into dragon territory. A simple strap around Hoseok’s waist keeps Jungkook pinned to his back. It helps to at least elevate some of the strain.

- The first time they’d ever flown 12 hours straight, Jungkook had slid off of his back with a thunk. Looking up surprised at Hobi who’d sniffed through his hair worriedly, wondering why he’d fallen. “I don’t think I can move my legs” his muscles too sore to even clench.

- Hoseok had been laughing when he’d shifted. Helping pull Jungkook up- only to have him fall back down again. “You look like a baby deer Koo, come on- help me unpack at least.” They’d spent the rest of the night huddled around the fire, and not once had Hoseok complained about having to get up to fix dinner or stoke the fire.

- Hoseok and Jungkook have been hunting books on and off for the last ten years, it’s not like they’re unused to unprovoked aggression from the humans. Their two sides are at war- and it’s a wonder the humans aren’t more curious about the ragtag pair of book thieves that have been periodically dipping over the battle lines and raiding their libraries.

- Jungkook wonders what rumors if any, are lingering in the human lands. Jungkook would give anything to keep the smile Hoseok shoots him when he asks one night, “What you think they’ll make urban legends about us in 100 years? Keep your books close and your enemies closer?”

- Whatever the rumors, the pair can only hope that none of them make it back to their father and their uncle. If yoongi got wind of what Hoseok and Jungkook were doing without permission- then he might be tempted to end the war just to make sure they stayed safe. But What Yoongi doesn’t know won’t hurt him. If Hoseok and Jungkook were flitting in between the human lands and the dragon lands on occasion just to see if the nearest city even had a library- well then that’s just that.

- Hoseok and Jungkook never spend more than a month or two away from Yoongi and you. The timing of their homestays Often hinging on how successful their search is going and how many books they’ve collected. Hoseok can only carry so much on his back. They don’t mind coming back periodically to visit and drop off another load. If anything- it gives Seokjin and Yoongi an excuse to take a break or two and the young ones an excuse to enjoy a little coddling.

- Yoongi’s doing better, recently he’s started taking more flights like he used to when Jungkook was a kid. The air does him good and he no longer looks like guilt and sadness and longing are eating away at his soul- like he only comes alive when you wake.

- Over the years, Yoongi has read himself into a tizzy more than once. Always to be brought back by Seokjin encouraging him to rest his eyes and put the books down for a day or two. “This just doesn’t make any fucking sense- first the fairy anatomy and then this- if we could only get our hands on- ugh!“

- Yoongi is about to throw the book and would have if Jin hadn’t caught his wrist. snatching it out of the younger mans hand. Before he can- sparks light up the spine. Yoongi’s anger and fire meeting in the middle- the heat dosent hurt Seokjin’s hand as he extinguishes it with a brush of his palm. Cooling yoongi’s frustration with a knowing look.

- “Yoongi, you need to sleep.” Yoongi doesn’t fight him on it though both of them know he could if he wanted to. He’s been up for days and the bags under his eyes look dangerously like bruises. “Rest is an investment into future productivity Yoongi- you can’t read forever like this without resting your eyes every now and then.”

- Yoongi has always found it hard to sleep with you gone, why waste the hours when every second spent brings them closer to a cure for mortality. Yoongi hopes it’s only a matter of time and not a matter of ‘if’ they’ll be successful. that question keeps him awake no matter how many days it’s been since he slept.

- The next time the boys come home carrying a pile of books for Seokjin and Yoongi to go through Seokjin gives them a look, fingering the spine of one. He corners both of them later- when Yoongi’s away in the kitchens putting a meal together. Happy to have them all home the nesting instinct itching under his skin.

- He fingers the edge of Hoseok’s shirt, his fingers hooking through an edge and tearing it further with a rip. His magic flares just as quickly to fix it and the tear is gone before the shock has left Hoseok’s face. Seokjin raises an eyebrow at Hoseok’s surprise. Seokjin is dressed in a flowy deep plum shirt- parted to show his chest, the rock at the hollow of his throat pulsing with life but swimming with something darker.

- He’s rightfully angry, “I know an arrow hole when I see one, where have you both been where you’ve been being shot at? Hopefully not in the human world” He taps the side of the book in his hands, “And I distinctly remember losing this book over a night of cards with a wizard 300 years ago- so there’s that too.”

- “It was only once-“ Seokjin gives them a withering look and they both melt “okay- maybe more than a few times, but you know how frustrating it was? For us to stay behind and-”

- Seokjin knows why they had to but still can’t reconcile that with his protective instincts. Before they can go any farther Yoongi comes back with a plate full of sliced meats. The fireplace crackles happily in response to him and Hoseok helps Yoongi set up a grate to fry it. The same recipe for marinated meat that you used to make them when they were children. A celebratory meal steeped in tradition and familiarity to welcome Hoseok and Jungkook home.

- Hoseok starts the discussion when Seokjin asks- pointedly if finding libraries and old dragon castles in the countryside and in the mountains had been any harder than usual. It has been- they ran out of places to search for books in the dragon lands years ago. Though they still occasionally spot a new one when they go over the mountains again. A hidden hovel or a falling down castle that’s abandoned or inhabited.

- “You’ve said it yourself Seokjin; a good portion of our family's records are on the other side of the world. I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal, Hoseok and I are more than capable of looking after ourselves.”

- Seokjin sighs, running his hands through his hair. Whatever spell he uses to keep it dark must be wearing off, the tips are looking a little silvery these days, it’s Probably stress. The pile of books in the study that they’ve gone through is becoming cumbersome as well they can barely walk around it. There are probably more than 30,000 that Hoseok and Jungkook have collected in the last 10 years.

- What Jungkook’s saying about their family isn’t wrong; Seokjin’s family did settle on the human side of the mountains first. They were responsible for enlightening humanity to the finer parts of magic. Without Seokjin’s family- the humans would probably still be waving sticks around and hoping for gold on the other end. The books they hunt for are the first records and spell books of witches and wizards that were taught by Seokjin’s father or books from the man himself.

- Not that their paltry party tricks could ever compare to the kind of magic that Seokjin and Jungkook were capable of. But the witches and wizards guilds do have strength in numbers. One which might have a droplet compared to the ocean of a sorcerer’s power, but 100? 1,000? That might be enough to match some spells.

- If the struggle at the border was enough to judge the powers of the guild, then they certainly were a formidable force to deal with. Their spells enchanting the humans swords and armor, making them resistant if not impervious to most fire. That was the only reason why the dragons hadn’t been able to immediately decimate the human army. They had to fight the harder way- with tooth and claw and brute force.

- The dragons would always have strength on their side and the humans would always have the numbers and carelessness with their lives. So short- you’d think they’d be more careful with their lives- but no. Over the years the death tolls have risen on both sides. It helps the human’s odds that they outnumber the dragons five to one.

- It’s been years since they left home- though it still feels weird to think of them ‘leaving’ in any capacity since they still come back almost as much as they leave. In the past few years, Hoseok and Jungkook have often flown across the battle lines or near them. But never close enough to see the battle or the carnage.

- Most of the time they divert their course north and fly over the tall mountains through brisk winds that would have Jungkook's muscles chilled for hours. a predicament usually only fixed by Hoseok curling up with his warm throat and chest cuddled around his too cold soulmate. quieting the protective urge in his stomach that said to breathe fire over the sorcerer- some sort of instinct, probably something instinctively dragon that he barely manages to repress.

- They’ve hunted books through the crags of long empty castles, through cities forgotten and new. They spend a good two months last year in the smaller dragon city to the south. Yoongi sniveled his nose up at them when they told him that’s where they wanted to go next. It felt a lot different than the northern city, the buildings rough made from wood and easily burnt and rebuilt. Definitely wilder and less aristocratic than the north.

- It’d burned down in the last war- so it’s no wonder the dragons there seem less attached to the buildings. some dragon had lit their board house on fire the first night they’d been there, roused from smoke and a shout. hoseok had shifted and carried jungkook out with his teeth hooked into jungkook’s shirt- lifting the younger like a cat would a kitten.

- Seokjin had gifted a map to Hoseok for his last birthday. It’s a delicate bit of magic, spelled to be paper-thin and bendable but the ink never fading or flaking off. Unable to be ripped or stained. The little red dot that shows Hoseok’s location and a black dot for Jungkook's. It changes each time they move- so that they know exactly where they are. Hoseok’s dot even gets a little more feathery when he shifts. The ink feeling fuzzy to the touch.

- The battle lines to the south also change too, rusty orange ink rough to the touch- with every league that the dragons push into the human lands ticking a lines with on the map. all So that hoseok knows how far he has to fly out of the way to avoid it if he wants too.

- Jungkook is just a little bit curious to see what dragons look like in battle, but a cautionary look from Jin and his father was enough to extinguish that possibility. “Trust me- it’s not a thing you should want to see” their father had said cryptically. “You never talk about the last war dad- what was it like?”

- “Bloody and long” was all Yoongi had answered. Because in truth- he’d given as much as he could give to that war. The end had left him broken and with the taste of blood in his mouth that just wouldn’t leave. He’d spent months looking for something in the mountains- an itch under his skin that wasn’t for more hoard.

- The wanting hadn’t abated until he met you and known deep in his bones that he’d never fight for another thing in his life. he’d found what his dragon soul hungered for more than gold or diamonds or anything that glitterd. a family- his hatchlings and his mate.

- But Hoseok and Jungkook are fully grown now and Yoongi still finds himself begging them not to go close to that battle- to stay out of it. Feeling like control and safety is slipping through his claws. The thought of both of them- of gentle Hobi and curious Jungkook getting a taste for carnage like that- Yoongi doesn’t ever want it to happen.

- Even though they already did that day in the manor house all those years ago. Still- a father can’t help but want to protect his hatchlings. Even if they’re both taller than him now they’re still his hatchlings. Jungkook especially likes to playfully lean his arm on his shoulders And Yoongi can’t ever correct him. He would let the youngster do anything without little more than an annoyed sigh, just as he had let him swing from his horns when he was a baby.

- When Seokjin had gifted the map, Hoseok had asked why they’re where two dots and not just one. “In case you get separated” the older sorcerer had said, a faint flush on his cheeks as he let Jungkook manhandle him into position on the couch perfect for snuggling. Sending smoke-filled bubbles to smart Jungkook’s nose when he keeps touching his thighs and rolling his eyes at his nephew’s endless touchy feely-ness. But even Hoseok can see the way that Seokjin relaxes with both of them around. Their presence a welcome reprieve from-

- “Yoongi- would you mind not breathing your lizard breath all over your sons?” Seokjin says haughty. Yoongi raises his massive head from where the coffee table should be (moved to make room for yoongi in his dragon form). blinking at Seokjin before his tongue darts out to lick at Hoseok’s hands- ignoring the older sorcerer.

- Hoseok can feel his happiness rippling out from his father at having his hatchlings back in his nest. He flicks his tongue out to hit Seokjin’s palm too and the elder recoils with a disgusted noise that makes Hoseok and Jungkook laugh.

- As if on queue, a book on the shelf falls, interrupting the moment.

- Every head flicks in the direction of the movement, the flecks of dust in the room pause, hanging in its shafts of light. the air too still to be from anything other than Seokjin’s magic or Jungkook’s- it doesn’t discriminate. After another moment. Hoseok gets up and puts the book back. the spine feels warm to the touch and for a moment- Hoseok holds onto it- savoring the warmth before he puts the book back on the shelf.

- There have been more moments like that than they’re all willing to admit, and despite their conversations- no one wants to admit what it is. The things that move on their own or flowers that Seokjin’s watched be plucked and fall to the ground in neat concentric circles. He’d gone out into the garden and found a whole pile of blooms- piles around a suspiciously shaped lump. It’s always the multi colored ones. Those moments are as startling as they are special.

- Everytime you wake Seokjin scolds you for it.

- “You realize the more you try to act outside of the dream world the more likely it is that you won’t be able to return back to your body?” Seokjin had snapped. Tae a happy puddle in his arms. You’re tearing into the food on the table while Tae just nibbles. He’s never hungry in the mornings really. Hadn’t been even when he’d been awake.

- Yoongi wonders if it has anything to do with the little field trips your soul takes outside of your body. The breaks you take from dreaming when you travel as a ghost in their world. Moving books and picking flowers and the countless other little moments.

- “It’s not like I’m trying to control it Seokjin, it just kind of happens. when I watch you guys- when I feel closer to you- it's easier” you definitely do not mention you’re only ever knocked out of your body after you’ve had a nightmare, but Taehyung knows. He looks up at your words, an egg yolk sliding out of his spoon and onto his plate bursting golden.

- Taehyung meets your eyes and you shake your head imperceptibly, and he keeps eating, declining to offer up the information that would surely make Seokjin and Yoongi more concerned. But the clock is ticking- and they only have 18 hours with you this year. No one wants to waste it arguing even if it does scare Yoongi.

- Every time when you wake and it takes a little longer for you to stir, Taehyung always awake and upright before you. Yoongi stroking your back in small circles- calling your name as you furrow your eyebrows and blink awake. kissing your face a few dozen times before you’re truly back. It only took 3 kisses the first year- and now it takes at least 8. Yoongi’s the kind of dragon that keeps track of that sort of thing.

- Later in their own private time together- Tae asks Seokjin with a pout “Why can’t I come out of the dream world to see you guys like she can Jinnie?” Seokjin washes his back in the bath, his hand warm and soapy. Jin exults in washing his love with long strokes, a little scratchy just the way that Tae likes it. just gentle enough to make his love squirm and make the water slosh against the sides of the silver tub. “It's not a thing you should want Tae, none of us know the long-term effects.”

- “But still,” Taehyung’s eyes are like warm honey over peaches, “it would be nice to see you more often.” Seokjin hums a gorgeous sound and Tae relaxes further into his lover's hold. Seokjin’s hands thumbing along his sternum counting his ribs and indulging in the touch. Tae shivers, shifting uneasily in the water, neediness sinking into his core like hot fire. Seokjin’s hand slips below the water and the layer of bubbles.

- “there are any number of reasons why the magic doesn’t want to work on her. It’s been a while and she’s probably just getting used to it, I probably just have to tweak the spell a little bit for y/n” Taehyung sighs, Seokjin’s mouth swallowing a bitten-off moan, kissing down his lovers throat and forsaking his mouth. Tae’s hips rock up, knocking the warm water out of the tub and onto the slate floor with a slosh that neither of them pay much mind to. “I’m not sure I want to hear another name from your lips when you’ve got your hands on me.”

- Seokjin smirks against Tae’s neck, the movement of his hand keeping up its pace under the water. His actions and his sly smirk betraying his words “Why wouldn’t I? We’re having a conversation, aren’t we? Or is something distracting you my love? Would you rather have me chanting your name?” like an incantation- if love were a spell then tae and jin would have the strongest.

- It is nice to see your family even for a few seconds on the occasion that you leave your body. It makes you feel like you’re helping, even just a little bit to watch over them. You try to disrupt something just to let them know you’re there. The first few years- the only thing you can manage is blowing out candles. but it gets easier to move books or make pages flip over as time goes on. and you get to ruffle their hair or pet over it as they sleep Where you stand and watch. Making sure their dreams don’t turn into nightmares.

- You wish you could say the same for your own dreams, but those are far more difficult to control.

- Often Yoongi will look at whatever just moved, and speak into the open air, through the glass barrier of the dream you can barely hear him. But he’ll go to the couch and sit, hold out his hand palm up on the cushion and you’ll touch it. Knowing by the way he shivers- that he can just barely feel the shape of a hand touching his. Yoongi has always had a thing for hand holding. And it’s worth it- just from the way he smiles.

- But too Yoongi it just feels like you’re already a ghost. It just makes him yearn for a time when it wasn’t like this. How will it feel? When he’s been without you longer than he was ever with you? If they don’t find a cure for mortality soon- then he’ll find out. His boys too.

- It feels like he can almost taste you on the air when you come and visit them in-between your naps (its easier for Yoongi to say they’re just that- just really long naps- even if it makes him feel childish, the weight of ‘eternal sleep’ is just too heavy on his mind some days).

- For that reason, he favors his dragon from more than his human one these days. it’s not like he can see you at all in either, but he can tell when you’re there and almost smell you when he’s in dragon form. And that feels more real than curling up around your coffin upstairs (or when he starts to worry that you actually are dead- that you won’t be able to come back).

- It’s been a long time since they started searching but it barely feels like a second to them. Like hardly any time has passed at all. Such is the way of immortals- years pass like months, and days like hours. It’s been years since Hoseok and Jungkook truly stopped aging. They’re both frozen somewhere in their twenties, their hair keeps growing, but their faces never change, their bodies don’t change either accept to get stronger or weaker with the care they show them.

- Jungkook doesn’t like to think about his age when he can help it. He still feels like a little kid whenever Yoongi and Seokjin look at him, sharing a special secret adult look that he’s not sure he’ll ever be capable of giving. He’s very content to stay the baby of their little family.

- But being the baby also means that Jungkook gets treated like a child too.

- “We’ve been over this, it's too dangerous boys,” Yoongi says it like it will make his heart break to see them in danger. If Yoongi knew they’d been shot at- even by one arrow- he’d fly over to the human cities and start leveling them one by one.

- “Not anymore, we’re not kids dad” Hoseok looks fluffed up, his curly hair and wild, so long it almost brushes his shoulders like Jungkook’s. (More than once Seokjin has snipped his fingers threateningly at it, “you both look wilder than the wind I swear, one night I’m going to take a pair of scissors to you whether you like it or not.”)

- That is just another thing that makes Hoseok ache all through his chest, and he’s never been able to put a finger on why it makes him uncomfortable. The thought of needing to have short hair for whatever reason. The same feeling lights up in his chest when Jungkook continues- “ right! we’re not boys- we’re men!” Jungkook’s swinging feet under his chair beg to differ.

- Yoongi sucks on his lower lip, hands tightening over the back of Jin’s chair. They talked about this possibility while the boys were gone, after the last time when they had a similar argument. In the years since your departure, Jin’s taken on something of a parental role with the boys- and it’s nice to have a second set of ears again. Even if it would make both Yoongi and Jin shriek indignantly to be compared to anything like what you and yoongi had. “They’re not children anymore Yoongi, you’re going to have to start letting them take their own risks sooner rather than later”

- “But I already did,” I already let them not be here he wants to say. Every single parental instinct of his telling him to keep his hatchlings close. But it’s better than it was before; now he rarely feels the urge to fly on after them and drag them back by the scruff of their necks. Sometimes when he’s out flying he pretends he’s doing just that.

- Seokjin taps his fingers against the table, sparks dancing between his fingertips. “As much as your parental concern is sweet, you have to admit- nothing can hurt Jungkook or me in any meaningful way.” Seokjin is being as soft as he can be. “You know this, and it's not like Hoseok is unformidable either.”

- Hobi gives Jungkook a toothy grin at that. Seokjin lets Yoongi stew with it for a moment. And the feeling in Hoseok’s chest dissipates. Strange. Though he’s glad to have it gone. Though he knows it will probably have him up later, turning in bed while Jungkook sleeps beside him in the little mock nests they’ve made together since they were kids. Sure that something must be wrong with him- something other than the feeling poisoning the happiness in his chest.

- “If you don’t let them go they might choose to go all on their own. Would you rather find out after? Or before?” Hoseok and Jungkook barely manage to keep a straight face. Their father will put two and two together if they even so much as grin. Yoongi’s pout as he looks down at the table and weighs the options is cute. Under the table, Hoseok’s leg jumps with nervous energy.

- You certainly think letting them go is a better option- standing in the corner of the room, not that any of your family can see you when you’re like this. A specter and a ghost and just as lonely. How your hand itches to reach out and smooth out that pout on Yoongi’s face. But you can’t, not in this form. Upstairs in your glass coffin, your hand twitches. Reaching out to do the touching that your soul wants to do.

- Yoongi can’t argue with logic like that even if he wants to. Honesty and freedom are better than a protective cage and lies by omission on both sides- no matter how loving the cage is.

- “You can go-“ he starts, interrupted by Hoseok and Jungkook’s excited whoops, Jungkook tossing his chopsticks into the hair where they hover and spin like pinwheels, before he jumps to Hoseok’s side, grinning at him while Hoseok pumps a fist in the air. The fire in the hearth flares higher from Hoseok happiness Sending sparks onto the floor. “yahhhhhh you’re going to burn the meat, and this carpet is 500 years old!” Seokjin fans it with his hand as if to knock the sparks off of the carpet and back onto the slate.

- They pull themselves over to Yoongi’s side and drag him into a tight hug, Jungkook pressing his forehead against Yoongi’s cheek in thanks. Yoongi goes stiff at first and then melts as they squeeze him tight. Hoseok hooking his chin over Yoongi’s narrow shoulder. Pulling away only to immediately begin to lay out plans of where they want to go first. Jungkook jumps up to go get that map, already dreaming Cities and wizarding guilds that they only know from the maps and Seokjin’s stories.

- Not that they haven’t been to half of them already- but going there with Yoongi’s blessing is much more exciting than sneaking around behind their backs. There were a few places that they were too worried to brave alone and without backup should something bad happen. But Now they can ask questions and learn where more books might be hidden, what cities to avoid and the secrets Seokjin might know of each.

- “Maybe a little bit of a change of scenery will do you good” Seokjin comments, a small smile tugging at his lips at the boy's excitement. Hoseok almost asks if he wants to come too- just to get out for a little bit. But the moment passes when jungkook unfurls the map in front of the hearth. Seokjin never leaves Tae’s side unless he has to. “I’ll teach you some cloaking spells and the like to hide Hobi’s horns.” His hands hover on Yoongi’s shoulders, reassuring him that he’s made the right choice.

- Weeks later, on the other side of the mountains Hoseok and Jungkook cling to a rooftop again pressing their bodies close to the slate roofs. A few new books in their bag and a group of angry soldiers shouting at them from below the parapet, enchanted arrows seeking them out until Jungkook cuts them off with a wave of his hand, learning to do it first off rather than wait until they are shot at.

- “Was this what we bargained for Hobi?” Jungkook asks with a grin as he looks over at his soul bonded partner. Hobi answers his grin with one of his own. “Maybe more- but I think we’ll raise hell either way.” Jungkook laughs, “imagine dad’s face when we tell him about this.”

- There isn’t a place they’d both rather be.

- Hoseok and Jungkook don’t like to fly at night when they can avoid it. but they need to when they’re closer to the border- where traveling bands of warriors might have sneaked around the battlelines and sunk into dragon territory. It’s safer to sink into the humans lands under the cover of night and fly up ahead. They’ve flown too close to traveling bands of warriors during the day before and though their arrows had fallen short it was still frightening to fly over a hilltop and be suddenly shot at.

- After accumulating a fresh thrush of books in a rather small library from the southern human lands- They’ll head to the coast for a day or two and stay at Jimin’s and Namjoon’s seaside cottage castle crossing over the mountains just north of the battlefield. It would be shorter to just fly straight home. But they have a few more books than usual this time. And the sea air and updrafts will make the flight north easier on Hoseok.

- Too many times have they overshot their load. only realizing when Hoseok had landed to find his once broken shoulder mottled and strained, unable to fly or even move it in human form for several days after. Staying at Namjoon and Jimin’s cottage always brings back fond memories too, though their favorite fairy and uncle Joonie isn’t there of course still south in the thick of the war.

- They’d run into Jimin a few years back- though they still send regular letters north to stay in contact. Jimin had spotted them in the skies and fluttered in their direction. One minute the only thing they’d been able to see was puffy clouds and the next, Jimin falling out of the sky whooping in joy when they saw them. His wings moving so quickly that they where nearly invisible.

- He’d made camp with them and lingered for as long as he could. It was nice to have someone familiar with them on the road. A face that loves them. And Jimin is perfect at giving them the right amount of affection.

- Since the wars started Jimin has split his time between helping Namjoon at the battlefront and going back and forth to the fairy world in an attempt to negotiate an alliance between them and the dragons. he’s Constantly trying to convince the royal family to come to the dragon’s aid.

- It’s not something jimin likes to consider- but if the humans managed to push through dragon land. They’re no telling how far they’d try to go. and if the dragons side seemed bountiful to human kind- then the fairy world would be something out of heaven.

- But just like the last war the fey are refusing to get involved and Just because they won’t help doesn’t mean Jimin won’t. He’s been Namjoon’s right-hand man in the war, the hidden second general to the dragon army. He’d even convinced a few of his brothers and sisters to join in the battle.

- “How do you actually get to the fairy world? Isn’t it like- on the other side of the ocean? Can you fly that far?” they’re stretched out around a fire, the woods a dark and impenetrable barrier beyond their little hallow of sparks. There isn’t anything that the three of them fear in these woods. though they had heard the single howl of a wolf earlier- lonely and echoic in the tall hills that eventually melt into the eastern mountains.

- Jimin had split his affection equally- running his fingers through Hoseok’s hair and head rested on one thigh and then through Jungkook’s on the other. It’s been a while since they’ve seen each other. Even longer since they’ve been small like Jimin misses. It’s hard to reconcile these gangly twenty-somethings with the tiny dragon and human he used to baby.

- Jimin doesn't like to think of the children now, the ones at the capitol without families (orphaned or displaced by the war) or his own...forgotten hopes. War is not the time to want something so gentle. Not when jimin needs to be strong as much for his mates sake as for the world. Jimin needs to forget his own hopes now more than ever. Even if seeing Jungkook and Hoseok reminds him so much of those times when he’d felt like a parent- as close as he and namjoon had ever gotten to having kids of their own.

- Maybe as close as they ever would get.

- Jungkook and Hobi remember seeing the fey ships at the market. Their hulls like skeletons, made of silver and a strange clear material, not glass- but certainly not any kind of wood. Jimin shakes their head at hoseoks question- the fey world is not on the other side of the ocean. It’s an easy mistake to make. “ I don’t think I could fly there if I wanted to-it's more like stepping through a very cold doorway. You can come there with me one day if you want.”

- “Do you think they’d have anything that-“ “that would turn you immortal?” it goes without saying that Jimin knows why Hoseok asks. Sucks on their lower lip as their eyes turned shadowed with your ghost. God- Hoseok shivers, he hates thinking that you’re dead, hates when everyone acts like you are.

- “Probably not, fey have good memories and there isn’t much of a reason to write things down, but it’s still a beautiful city- makes home look like ruins,” Jimin says the words like he wishes he hadn’t already. Because all of them know how likely it is one day- that the dragon city might one day fall to ruins.

- There is more than one live ghost- that threatens to haunt them.

- Jungkook can’t help but remember that day as they get close to where they’d run into Jimin the first time. It’s been a long day of flying, and they crossed over the majority of the mountains in one good push. As the sun dips close to the horizon coloring the world in orange and gold, Hoseok and Jungkook spot a glittering speckle among the forested hills of the Southern part of dragon territory. A small waterfall that runs clear and strong.

- He leans over, gripping the band around hoseok’s waist with one hand and pointing in it’s direction with the other until he gets Hoseok’s attention and he spots it too, listing to the side and settling into a slow dive. Jungkook hooks his feet into the squishy side of Hoseok’s ribs to make sure he won’t fall off. His thighs protesting from the strain of gripping Hoseok’s back for many hours.

- He remembers when they’d been younger- Hoseok nearly flipping when they’d first flown together. Jungkook eager but still nervous on his back, hugging Hoseok’s neck so so tight. Jungkook remembers when his neck got thicker- and suddenly he couldn’t link his hands around it- how he’d clinged with every other muscle in his body- only airborne for a few minutes until they both plumited towards the ground in a way that made Jungkook’s stomach lurch. Tossed onto the soft grass in a flurry of feathers and dandelions puffing.

- They’d both tumbled, Hoseok shifting mid-roll spitting grass and dandelion fluff. “Stop putting your feet there! I’m ticklish!!” he’d laughed. That was a far cry from how he felt now, Hoseok was used enough to it that it didn’t bother him. Jungkook an extension of himself on his back, tucking close when they flew fast and leaning to help Hoseok make those tight turns easier.

- They’re not far enough away from the battlefront that they can entirely let down their guard. But they’re both tired enough to make the risk unavoidable. They’re Only a spare 50 miles away is where the fighting’s thickest. It’s probably okay, There probably isn’t any danger here. Maybe they shouldn’t light a fire- just in case.

- As Hoseok touches down into the pebbled bank of the waterfall his claws sink into the sand with his and Jungkook’s combined weight, buffering the trees with flaps of his wings. Keeping them tucked in tight so that they don’t hit any stray branches. Jungkook slides off his back- hitting the ground with a lurch, almost falling in his tiredness. Jungkook has always had that floppy puppy way about him when he gets sleepy- every bit of his body a little more limp and sweet than usual (if that’s even possible).

- The water runs clear and cold as Jungkook stoops to fill up their canteens, unlatching their packs from Hoseok’s back with a push of magic. The roaring from the falls nearly blocks out the sounds of Hoseok’s bones shifting. His hair windswept, fangs clicking against the ones on his lower mouth- what he needs to say doesn’t necessitate a full shift. “I’m going to circle overhead and find us a place to make camp okay?”

- It’s too dangerous to camp so close to a water source. They can hardly hear each other over shout over the thunder of the falls- let alone any intruders that might try and sneak upon them in the night. Jungkook makes a small noise in agreement, the hours of flying in silence lingering.

- Hoseok can tell his soul bonded partner is only a few minutes away from needing to sleep- probably even forgetting to eat, which is pretty typical as far as traveling goes. Jungkook will push himself to the brink before he drops, and it’s Hoseok’s job to make sure that doesn’t happen. He’d never say anything to Jungkook but it’s a little scary to see the magic sustain him even farther than Hoseok’s own stamina will take him.The magic will suppress his need to sleep and eat the more he uses his magic.

- When Jungkook stretches in the morning, arms above his head pulling his shirt up to show a few inches of skin, Hoseok takes each and every rib that shows as a reminder. As Hoseok circles overhead, he reminds himself that he has to make Jungkook eat something before he falls asleep.

- Hoseok usually does a good job of keeping Jungkook well taken care of and Jungkook takes care of him in turn. Many a night have they curled up together; Hobi in his feathers and Jungkook rubbing soft soothing motions over the sensitive’s scales of his face, they’re never more than a few feet apart these days.

- They go hours without talking during the day, but the silence never bothers either of them. Who else can you truly be silent with if not your soulmate? Sometimes- Jungkook looks at Hoseok and wonders ‘are you thinking what I’m thinking? Or are your thoughts and feelings just as much a mystery as my own are to me?’

- Is it a soulmate bond? Or just a soul bond? Sometimes, Jungkook isn’t sure- and finds himself questioning that which never should be questioned. he’d never asked Jin if his and Namjoon’s bond had drifted into more romantic territory- sensing there was a story there somehow that maybe the younger one shouldn’t pry into.

- Hoseok takes off, the wind from his wings buffering his clothes; the flowers that grow near the waterfall- red and bright, sway under the weight of their heavy nectar.

- Jungkook breathes in then out, settling himself into wait. It’s easier for Hobi to search while he’s not on his back; it’s a little harder for him to make his tight turns with all of that weight altering his center of gravity. No matter how hard he tries Jungkook doesn’t have the same sense of balance that Hoseok has. He’s been unseated by Hoseok landing in trees more than once.

- When Jungkook remembers enough to check back in with Seokjin, the elder is still very intent on teaching him how to alter that. Jungkook may have mastered a hundred or so spells, but he still doesn’t wield magic in the same easy way that Seokjin does. He hears his uncle’s voice now; ‘Breathe in Jungkook, feel the energy around you, the pulse of that which gives things their life- and you- your powers.’

- And ‘don’t get frustrated- you’ve got all the time in the world to learn magic. You can’t expect to be as good as me with only a few years under your belt... especially given the circumstances.’

- It's hard to find time to practice on the road, So Jungkook takes a second for this, closes his eyes, and reaches out, his mind like a bubble, the edges of it swirling and turning multicolored. He feels the offal energy in those red flowers. Poisonous his magic tells him, stay away- sweet but don’t eat. The water turns and curls and he feels the life of the little fish below in the deepest parts, the way the air moves as it falls with the water, and endless hello between the two.

- He’s so calm, so intent on being peaceful (breathing with the slowly moving things that are immortal like him) that he doesn’t hear the rustle of movement behind him. The sharp eyes that have caught his human scent and found it unwelcome here. The dragon in the woods. They eye the thin sword on the ground, the only one Jungkook still keeps for those just in case moments of misfortune.

- Jungkook hasn’t been a sorcerer long enough to smell like the magic, and this far into dragon territory; it’s no wonder why they consider him a threat. Though most dragons know there is another sorcerer alive by now or have heard of him. Yoongi is a historical figure after all, and their family does have proximity to Namjoon and the dragon council.

- Before they exhausted the dragon realms libraries they’d used that to their advantage often. There are many older dragons that own those old castles, charmed by his and Hoseok’s mere mention of the council. Many had asked how their father was doing.

- Hoseok was usually the one who talked with them and heard their grievances; (too many taxes, too few social programs- the usual), while Jungkook raids their libraries and fills out his little booklet so that he knows which books come from where. He and Hoseok aren’t intending to be thieves so hopefully they’ll be able to return them (Most of those books now sit in a pile in Seokjin’s library, pages unturned for years with no drive to give them back- but it’s the thought that counts right?)

- The dragons that hoard books are the worst ones to deal with- always-eyeing Hoseok like he’s here to steal their trove of musty moldy tombs. As if the golden bands that line his fingers and dot his ears now aren’t enough of an indication of where Hoseok’s proclivities lie.

- Hoseok’s hoarded object will be gold, not unlike his father. Though you’d once called Yoongi a crow- only interested in that which was pretty and shiny. Many a time when they were children, Hoseok had watched their father growl at you playfully and snag you close by your waist, snapping his teeth close to your neck and nuzzling there, “maybe that’s why I’ve kept you.”

- Most dragon folks are much more interested in Hoseok than they are in Jungkook. But the gossip mills and rumors haven’t touched the people here this far out into the countryside. No one knows who- or more importantly what Jungkook is.

- Least of all the dragon in the woods.

- The growl ripples and Jungkook straightens, searching in the cover of trees. The hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He instantly goes on the offensive, the waterfall behind him goes still in the magic as does the softly falling leaves, hovering in the air like baubles- like time has stopped.

- The magic reaches out at the threat with greedy hands, and the shadows part around it, letting in the hazy afternoon goldenness that glints off of sharp claws and even sharper teeth.

- Jungkook is used to dragons more so than he is to humans, but the sight of an aggressive one is still enough to have him nervous. He holds his hand out, showing that he’s unarmed. He sets a foot back- boot sloshing in the water, sending one of their packs tumbling in surprise. “I’m not- I’m not a threat- calm down- I’m no soldier.” his voice shakes.

- He’s never been one to attack first when it comes to dragons But this one stalks forward with Jungkook as it’s prey. Tail raised like its ready to attack. They’re about as old and as large as Hoseok if not a little larger and meatier. Their mouth sparking with bright yellow fire. Eyes angry and unchecked by restraint.

- And still- Jungkook isn’t afraid, and it takes him a moment to realize why, even when he sees the dragon preparing to spit jet of fire in his direction. It’s not that the magic has made him reckless; Jungkook just knows in his heart that nothing can hurt him.

- But if it tries- then the magic might act without Jungkook knowing. The magic will always protect its host and there’s no telling what damage it might do to his opponent. “Please- please don’t do that” why does is own voice sound tired to his ears? “I can’t be held responsible for what happens if you do.” If Jungkook weren’t scared for the dragon’s safety he’d release a tired sigh.

- Nothing is interesting anymore when nothing can hurt you.

- The dragon growls before spitting it’s fire- and Jungkook is just about to hold up his hands to throw the protective bubble around him when Hoseok falls out of the sky. Crashing down in front of him. Wings flaring to stop the fire from crashing into Jungkook. Dealing out a savage kick that sends the other dragon out of the shadows and into the light.

- Jungkook’s breath hitches.

- They’re the same species- or if not the same then similar. Their feathers mix in the fight- Ruddy red yanked out by Hoseok’s claws falling to the ground with Hoseok’s bright crimson coral. Rather spill feathers than spill blood.

- Hoseok doesn’t notice much about the other dragon beyond a particularly strong scent in his nose. When he spotted them overhead he acted without another thought. Air going out from under his wings and fiery anger filling his heart when he saw them. No one flashes their fire at Jungkook without him retaliating.

- He manages to pin the dragon for a moment before they turn, swiping out with their wing. Sending small stones scattering in Jungkook’s direction, One nearly hits his face before the magic hurls it in a different direction. Jungkook flinches regardless.

- For the first time- Jungkook can see the differences between Hoseok and his species. Where Hoseok has dark red feathers on his underbelly they have white golden ones, their secondary feathers are different too- striped with a slightly darker red like blue jays would be striped blue-black. Comparatively- Hoseok is more colorful but less ornate.

- Where Hoseok’s horns go in theirs point out, the other dragon tries to bash their head into Hoseok’s sideways. Hoseok flips them over with a push of his tail. Their wings tangle, flap against the ground in a thwack that leaves the poison flowers crumpled, but then Hoseok get his jaws around the other dragon's neck and the fight is as good as over.

- His growl ripples out along the forest floor making the leaves shake. He doesn’t mean to really hurt them but as the other dragon moves against his jaw and a little bit of blood splatters. A shallow cut on their neck. The dragon continuing to thrash even with Hoseok’s jaws around their throat until they yield. It's obvious that Hoseok is the only one out of the two of them that’s been trained to fight, those sparring sessions with their father and his schooling at the academy paying off.

- The dragon shifts below Hoseok. Red feathers melt away into red-brown hair. the girl that shifts below Hoseok is so much smaller and vulnerable compared to her dragon form. “You’re one of us! Sorry- just got startled by the human!” she’s not scared of having Hoseok’s teeth so close to her, still bent over her with his mouth parted, nearly as wide as she is tall. She pushes his snout away with one hand and Hoseok- blinking perplexed- lets her. She looks like the kind of woman that isn’t easily scared of anything.

- Her clothes are grubby and worn from weeks on the road, her skirt thick and woolen pulled over her legs. She’s doing a good job of concealing how scared she is but Jungkook sees her fear in the slight tremble of her shoulders as Hoseok stays shifted between her and Jungkook as if he doesn’t believe that she won't be a threat anymore. Hoseok’s tail flicks agitated, splashing into the water.

- Jungkook sees another flash of movement at the edge of his vision, brings up his hand in defense as he turns. But the smaller heads in the woods just look curious and frightened. Two other small dragons, a small one sandy with fluffy feathers, a hatchling whereas the other is shifted. Her horns are a deep bronze. They nearly get caught in the underbrush as she cocks her head like a bird.

- “He’s a city thing.” she comments at the smaller dragon, which sniffles and snorts around her waist. He curls around the shifted one with his head hidden behind their back. Shy- Just like Hobi was when he was younger.

- They’re others of his kind, the same species. Jungkook knew they had to exist but he doesn’t know why he’s so shocked.

- Hoseok finally shifts, obviously furious, a head taller than the woman and instantly combative. Her blood a harsh brand at his mouth, red and dripping around his chin. “Don’t you have a little more sense to wait and see if he was doing anything harmful? God-” freaking savages Hoseok curses internally- but then immediately berates himself for that choice of language.

- That kind of rhetoric was the words that dragons from the capital often used to refer to the dragons that wanted to exist out here where they were naturally more comfortable. Unburdened by the comforts and expectations of polite society. The girl tosses her long dark hair, matching his energy with her hands on her hips, “well he should know better than to come into dragon land unaccompanied-“

- “He wasn’t unaccompanied- he has me, I scent marked him this morning, and if you stopped to use your senses instead of just going fire first and thought second- You’d have realized he’s spoken for.” Jungkook remembers the scenting and barely suppresses a flush.

- Hoseok had extensively rubbed his chin all over Jungkook’s chest this morning. They’d been curled up in the dewdrops, staying cozy until the absolute last moment they had to leave the small clearing where they’d made camp, a hanging valley in the mountains. Secluded, safe, and quiet.

- It makes Jungkook shy to think everyone can smell that on him- that they’d been so close. and in the next second he’s questioning his own shyness- what was there to be shy about? Hoseok is his soul-bonded partner so it’s only natural…right?

- The girl sniffs the air, crossing her arms. The shallow gash under her jaw is already healing. Really- it wasn’t more than a scratch, and Hoseok won't feel guilty for that- not when it was her who tried to move when she obviously should have yielded the fight to him. “You’re right- he does smell like you” the way she says this- like she thinks it’s a bad thing but that’s rich when she stinks like something heavy and heady. A sweet scent that’s so strong it hurts Hoseok’s nose. No one else has ever smelled this way to him before.

- Another older dragon dashes through the forest, accompanied by a third- both of them are male and at least as old as Jungkook and Hobi. Hoseok steps a little more firmly in front of Jungkook. Hiding him from view.

- “What’s going on? We heard a roar?” the smaller one asks, though the larger of the two turns to the female dragon his eyes only for her. His thumb running against her blood-soaked throat, checking to make sure she’s not hurt. The second he verifies she’s not hurt he turns his attention to Hoseok, putting himself in front of her the same way Hobi had stepped in front of Jungkook. He even steps up- about to shove Hoseok but she catches him around the waist. Stopping him from hurting Hoseok.

- Jungkook takes a second to size the three of them up- he and hoseok could definitely take them in a fight, he shakes off his trepidation and steps up too- holding the glare of the smaller of the two men.

- More of that smell fills Hoseok’s nose and he wants to choke on it, or gag. Hoseok scoffs, arms rippling in his shirt. (Jungkook’s brain sure chooses the weirdest things to fixate on, but when did Hoseok gain so much muscle?) Jungkook reaches out to tug on Hoseok’s sleeve, “Hobi- it’s okay, let's just go,” Hoseok’s eyes lose their anger the second he looks back at Jungkook, hot fire melting to burning coals.

- Jungkook doesn’t like to be hated by dragons, even if he’s used to it by now and grew up with it. Hoseok’s priorities shift in a second; to getting Jungkook away and where they can be alone and safe unthreatened in their little bubble. He’d rather make sure Jungkook was safe and comfortable than devote any more energy to these people. “It doesn’t matter Hobi.”

- The woman that Hoseok’s fought goes white as a sheet, her knees going weak in a second. “What did you just say?” the beefier male dragon steps forward and Hoseok barely manages the impulse to cover his nose. The other one sends a nervous glance at the two of them, then back at the kids.

- A knowing look shared between all of them, and Jungkook is hit with the realization that something is about to change. And in the same second, it happens before Jungkook can tell what it is and protect Hoseok from it. The woman pushes the beefy man to the side, stepping up to Hoseok.

- “Did you just say Hobi? What’s your name?” the woman is still staring at Hoseok open-mouthed, and all at once- Jungkook sees it. The same way their hair falls, their face shape, their similar small noses, and their eyes. The kind of familiarity that only genetics can cause.

- “My name is Hoseok,” Hobi says, and she rushes forward, tears spilling over her cheeks, Hoseok flinches back from her hands, “I thought you were dead- I thought you were gone- Hoba- I’m so sorry- I-”

- Now it's Jungkook’s turn to put himself in-between her and Hobi. Catching her wrists in both of his. though the larger dragon’s nostrils flare at her being touched- he’s gentle when he takes her form Jungkook’s hold a second before her legs give out and she devolves into sobs. Holding her protectively against his chest as she cries, staring at Hoseok like she’s seeing a ghost.

- Hoseok looks stricken for a moment before it hits him “Dawon- my sister's name was Dawon. Is that you?” she nods, eyes still shining as she drinks in Hoseok, wiping the tears away so she can see him more. The other smaller male dragon grimaces- looking about as uncomfortable as jungkook feels.

- “You have a sister” Jungkook breathes, a weird feeling of betrayal welling up in him. “You didn’t tell me.” Hoseok is scared- that’s the only emotion Jungkook can pin down when he turns, his hand closing around Jungkook’s shoulder, “I didn’t know- I always assumed she’d died. And I haven’t-“

- Jungkook sees something settle between Hoseok’s shoulders, the tension dissipating “I barely remember you. I’m sorry.” And he really is, her sadness doesn't well in him a protective urge- he feels nothing at all but discomfort as he watches a stranger cry over him. He wishes he remembered her like she remembers him.

- “If it helps,” the dragon holding dawon says, “she thought you were dead too” he holds out his hand, “I’m Jinseok and this is my brother Felix, what’s your name human?”

- The little ones seem to be the perfect distraction- the midsized one shifting- while the hatchling bounds forward in their direction. Felix is finally knocked out of his reverie to try and snag them by their feathers but missing at the last moment. They flutter around Jungkook’s and Hoseok’s feet- curious at the newcomers. It gives dawon the opportunity to wipe her eyes.

- The larger one of them barely braves enough to sniff at Jungkook's hand, recoiling when he smells the magic sparking at his nose. Shifting with a pop. Her hair is red-tipped like Dawon’s, but black at the roots. “You smell funny,” she says before she pops back into her dragon form The smaller hatchling brushes up against Hoseok’s legs as a cat would weaving between his ankles.

- Though he doesn’t say it aggressively, Jungkook still feels his annoyance prick at this and at the whole meeting. “i’m Not human- but my name’s Jungkook, I’m Hoseok’s brother,” the small one shifts back and forth with a crack, “how can you be his brother if you’re not a dragon?”

- “Areum!” Felix scolds. trying to grab at her again as she shifts and darts away. “It’s okay- we- we can talk about it,” Hoseok says, Hand smoothing over the head of the smaller one, the hatchling presses up into Hoseok’s hand.

- As Dawon gets her feet underneath her the other dragon- Jinseok- who hoseok gathers is her mate judging from the way he’s been trying to comfort her steadies her with a hand on her elbow. He’s significantly meatier than felix- who like Hoseok is lithe and delicate by comparison.

- And Jungkook knows without being able to smell him that maybe- this means he’s an alpha. Not all dragons split themselves up into designations of alpha, beta, and omega. When they were younger Jungkook pored over every book they could come by about dragons to learn about Hoseok’s type.

- “Why are you even reading about me- you know you can just ask Namjoon right?” Hoseok had teased in the old library of their manor house, a book from jimin’s library on the study table. “Cuz I wanna know everything about you- don’t you want to know too? Which one you are?”

- “Not really- it doesn’t matter to me” and maybe back then it didn’t. Neither Namjoon or Yoongi were the kind of dragon that split into designations and neither could tell. Jungkook wonders if that’s still true. If Hoseok still doesn’t know- it’s been so long and Jungkook’s never asked, he wonders if the others can tell.

- “Come this way- we’ve already set up camp and you both should join us,” the smaller one shifts finally, hair fluffy and red-blond just like their feathers, tugging on Dawon’s skirt. He’s a soft sweet thing, barely more than a toddler. “why is it all like that unnie?” pointing behind Jungkook and Hoseok.

- They all turn, and Jungkook isn’t at all surprised to see the waterfall still frozen in time, no sound of it tumbling, still the same way it was when Dawon first attacked. The other small dragon tries to touch the water's edge and finds it impenetrable. Like it’s glass.

- Jungkook leans down and runs his hand through it letting it ripple slowly- much to the excitement of the youngsters who stand on the surface. Pouncing and trying to break it. Neither of them can break through the surface like Jungkook. “Kookie,” Hoseok asks, “sorry- that’s my fault.” He holds up his hands and with a flash the water unfreezes and resumes its rushing and roaring. The older child falls ankle-deep into the water, squawking and splashing back to the shore- Shaking her feathers out.

- The dragons go white, Felix mutters a low curse. “We’d heard about another sorcerer- but we didn’t think” Jungkook rubs his hands on his thighs, picking up his pack, suddenly shy. Still Hoseok and Dawon stare at each other- this time not trying to get close.

- Jungkook sighs, the heaviness in his chest aching. “You said you had camp set up already?”

- Hours later after the fires been stoked and the foods been made and the sun has set, Jungkook tries not to let the food in his mouth taste like ash. Rolling it against his tongue, the meat-rich with spices as he watches Hoseok and Dawon from across the fire. Ignoring the clamor of Felix wrestling the hatchlings into a makeshift nest.

- at one point tonight Hoseok had mistakenly referred to the two hatchlings as his sister’s children and she’d laughed, her mate blushing and melting underneath her playful look. They’re not her kids, but that they’re all orphans from one of the last attacks at the border before the war began. In much the same boat as Dawon was when their nest was destroyed. The group of three are on their way north to drop the youngsters off in the capital before they head back to the battlefront.

- the two children seem terribly attached to the group of three- Hoseok comments on this. Felix looks down at the small one- the little boy curled up in his lap, cheek pillowed against Felix’s thigh. His voice hushed and pained “We want to fight. Even if it means we have to leave them, we can’t take care of them like they need to be taken care of.”

- Jungkook doesn’t say that you were younger than he was when you first started taking care of him and Hobi. But things are significantly faster passed for humans. And maybe parenthood has more to do with personality and attitude than age. If Jungkook had to judge it- he’d say that out of this group- Felix seems the fondest of the hatchlings.

- Jungkook doesn’t intrude much onto their conversation. For the most part he just sits across the fire with his empty bowl and listens. Nursing his skein of wine that they’ve so graciously gifted him and Hoseok. Marveling at the refilling spell that jungkook shows them half way through the night when it begins to run dry.

They don’t notice the difference- but to Jungkook the wine tastes flat and bitter the magic stealing away the joy of its taste. There are some things that the magic just can't recreate and maybe jungkook’s just sensitive to that.

- But it does enough to liberate his anxiety regardless; Jungkook’s head is spinning as he watches the dragons, feeling apart from them on the other side of the fire. The two youngsters sleep on soft packs a little bit away, packs piled up to keep the light of the fire out of their eyes.

- “How did you- how did you survive? Did you run away?” (The memories that Jungkook’s seen flicker back across his eyes, a tiny Hoseok sitting in a treehouse nest, hiding until his mother came. “Stay here- your sister will be back in a moment” and then Hoseok leaving, heading out into the fray of the battle. So small and so so brave.)

- Jungkook tightens his lips. Hoseok knows what he saw that day when he became a sorcerer and they don’t have many secrets between the two of them. But this feels too private for Jungkook to pipe up. The fact that he might be the only one of the three of them that has a clear picture of what happened that day lingers on his mind.

- Jungkook wonders, and has asked Seokjin about how, and why- the magic showed him what it did. ‘I think it probably wanted you to understand, wanted you to know what had happened and how it did. Every sorcerer has a different specialty, maybe yours is time.’

- “I almost didn’t, I went out to fight but our parents were already-“ Hoseok cuts himself off. Everyone knows what happened and he doesn’t need to say it in any detail. “I went back for you- but you weren’t there- and the others were leaving.“ she doesn’t need to say anymore. Takes a swig of her wineskin too, the words rolling off her tongue better with the alcohol lubricating them. “Two other hatchlings got killed because I went back to look for you.”

- Hoseok doesn’t have anything to say about that. He’d been as good as dead, and she must have been about 11 when the attack happened. Hoseok would tell her that he forgives her but really there’s nothing to forgive. “What have you been doing since then, where did you end up?” Hoseok needs to ask- needs to know. What could have been his life if Yoongi had never found him?

- It says something that this woman in front of him left him for dead, while their father didn’t. Now that her scent buffs over him from the hot wind he thinks he recognizes it. In the first few weeks he’d been with you he remembers missing her scent. Longing to curl up around it and the rest of his nest.

- Hoseok remembers smelling Jungkook His snout pressed to Jungkook’s black curls trying to recreate the same smell. It smells kind of like family- but not really. Jungkook would never smell the same way she did- and that was a good thing. Hoseok subtly leans away so that more of it doesn’t get in his nose. Craving Jungkook’s clean sweet scent across the fire.

- “I ended up getting adopted by their rookery” she gestures to both of the boys Felix leans back on his hand's feet playing with the soil while he gazes at her fondly. Felix is the only one of them who doesn’t have horns, instead- his dragon mark manifests itself in his clawed feet.

- That’s how I would look at her if we’d grown up together Hoseok thinks. It’s clear they’re close though he can already tell her bond with the alpha runs deeper than her bond with him. “Their parents died three years ago in one of the first battles, we were sent north to the city and the academy before we were approved by the council to head south when we found them.”

- “Hoseok studied at the academy too” jungkook supplies quiet, no one but hoseok acknowledges he spoke.

- In their little nest, the two hatchlings breathe on, “we were trying to make it to the battlefront to finally fight but now that we’ve got them- we’re on our way back to the city.” Hoseok sees the way that Jinseok touches her hand, soft and cradling. It’s strange to Hoseok, who doesn’t often pick up on the scents of other dragons that those of his own kind smell so strong.

- Dawon smells sweet and cloying, like a baked cake or like an overly ripe fruit. Nearly spoiled. Whereas Jinseok smells like incense and burning oranges (a smell that Hoseok finds it hard to like to be honest), and Felix smells like the edge of winter and fall, clear air, fresh in a way. Other dragon’s scents have never been so pungent to him- even his own. if they smell so bad he wonders what he must smell like.

- “How did you…” Hoseok’s eyes hover on the tender way they hold each other hand, Jinseok brushes over the scent gland on the inside of Dawson’s wrist something so intimate and gentle. He can see the way she viscerally shivers. “You’re both mated right?” he asks, wants to know, both of them blush but nod eagerly.

- Felix leans back further. “I told them to wait until after the war but-“ he lifts his shoulders, “when you know you know.” Dawon smiles brightly in his direction, knocking her forehead with Jinseok. “You’re not-” Dawon sends a glance in Jungkook’s direction as if shaking her head at the very thought. Jungkook bristles (and so does Hoseok) but as if sensing some sort of possible conflict, Felix pipes up. “It makes sense that you’re not since you're like me, we don’t often mate.”

- Confusion replaces the tension as everyone turns to Felix, Hoseok’s eyebrows furrow. Something’s not lining up “what do you mean?” Jungkook asks. Hoseok is wide-eyed “how am I like you?” Felix- seeming to realize that he’s overstepped or supplied information that he shouldn’t have, has the good sense to look a little bashful. “You didn’t know? You’re a beta-”

- Hoseok and jungkook share a startled glance, hoseok's hands shake a little- he tries to hide it- but Jungkook notices (Jungkook always notices). Hoseok had never thought it mattered- but now it feels like it does. the way that felix says it- like it’s something to be happy about. “You didn’t know? ah- I’m sorry I didn’t mean to”

- “It’s alright it's just-” Hoseok looks down his hands tightening into fists, a small smile pricking at the corner of his mouth. “I’m a beta?” Jungkook can’t help but feel like he’s slipping even further away his breath hitching. Felix relocates to Hoseok’s side, taking his shaking hand in one of his “yes, you’re a beta- like me. there aren’t many of us left- even fewer now, but you’re a beta Hoseok.”

- Jungkook can’t stop himself, physically can’t keep himself in his seat at the sight of Hoseok and the other beta sitting so close on the tree stump. The way his sister seems so close on the other side in Jungkook’s spot. Felix touches Hoseok’s neck- the spot where Jungkook knows his scent gland is even if he can’t smell Hoseok the way the dragons do. explaining to hoseok what he smells like- It makes Jungkook’s blood boil with an acrid something that feels like wanting and shame at being so impossibly jealous.

- So he gets up and walks to the edge of the makeshift camp trampling someone’s feathers as he goes. Hoseok starts after him and the alpha makes an unhappy grunt at Hoseok leaving. Almost reaching out.

- Logically Jungkook knows Jinseok is his sister’s mate- so of course, he’d be worried about her younger brother leaving- especially if it hurt the feelings of Dawon. But Jungkook can’t help but hate that they’re already trying to stake a claim over Hoseok. Typical alpha behavior already trying to exert his will over someone he barely knows.

- Jungkook doesn’t know if Hoseok had felt his displeasure down the threads of their bond, but he calls Jungkook’s name again as he stalks into the woods. Jungkook ignores it, stomping carefully through a grove of ankle-high toadstools that glow a faint pink. They’re enough like to see by, and they illuminate the forest in great swathes. A fairy lifts its head from the surface as he jostles one, hissing in Jungkook’s direction as he disturbs their sleep.

- “Kookie slowdown- just STOP” Hoseok has never shouted at Jungkook and sounded like that. Jungkook’s so surprised he stops in his tracks. He steps on a toadstool and it winks out- the rosy glow beneath them diminishing. A flurry of sprites are startled from their hallow by hoseok's shout, the cloud moving sleepily away from the clearing, wings whistling in the quiet. When he turns around, Hoseok’s stricken expression is lit from below, his lower lip glossy from the wine.

- One of the things about their bond is that Hoseok doesn’t have to wonder if Jungkook is upset. He can feel it echoing hot into his own body, jealousy and anger and deep underneath- fear. Fear that Hoseok had found something he’d been looking for that Jungkook couldn’t offer.

- Jungkook can’t get the happy expression out of his head- the way Hoseok had looked when they’d told him. “I’m a beta” the smile like an answer he’d been searching for but hadn’t found. Jungkook couldn’t fit into that system- couldn’t be an alpha or a beta or omega. He could just be Jungkook.

- And For the first time, being only that doesn’t feel like enough for Hoseok. Hoseok had never cared that Jungkook was a dragon or human but now it feels like it matters.

- “Do you- are you going to stay with them Hoseok?” Jungkook’s voice doesn’t sound like his own. Hoseok recoils at the mere suggestion of it like he’s just been slapped “what?! Of course not- we’re going to leave in the morning? And then they’ll head south. Dawon and I have already talked about it while you were getting firewood.” Hoseok reaches out to grab Jungkook’s wrist but Jungkook takes a step back- out of Hoseok's reach.

- “It didn’t look like you had any intention of leaving just then” Hoseok steps forward into Jungkook’s space. Between them, personal space rarely exists, but now, Jungkook feels like he he needs some. Jungkook never thought their bond might hurt- but now he’s worried it is.

- “You don’t need to be scared Kookie,” Hoseok says because he can feel his fear, “I don’t want you to feel scared.” one of the terrible things about their bond is that Hoseok can feel everything every emotion. Good and bad, secret and shared all wound in an anxious ball that only Hoseok can tease through.

- “Maybe it would help- if I knew what you were thinking” because thoughts and feelings aren’t the same things. hoseok knows jungkook is feeling this way- but can’t understand why more than a good guess.

- Jungkook sits on the edge of a stump, a fallen tree, and beside him, Hoseok stoops to sit too. Careful to rearrange their feet so that they don’t hurt any of the toadstools, through the underbrush they glimmer and bloom more brilliant than flowers.

- They remind Jungkook of the flowers that grow in aunty Jimin and uncle Namjoon’s house. Jungkook doesn’t watch them, leaning his head on Hoseok’s shoulder, looking up at him from his perch. After a second, Hoseok pulls him closer, pacifying him with the contact.

- Hoseok starts slow. “You know im different.” it seems silly to say- to voice this when jungkook can feel the otherness in his bones. “that I feel like I’ve always been in-between kind of in the same way that Jimin’s been in-between.” jungkook’s egear nodds encourage Hoseok on to talk more.

- “I’ve never been worried about it because I knew- I know whatever it is- that I feel loved- I know you love me.” Jungkook’s heart feels like it’s going to shake in his chest, lit from below. Hoseok reaches out, touches his cheek in just the right way that Jungkook knows it’s not- not that sort of love. The thing that’s built itself into something formidable in his chest.

- A love that is neither purely platonic nor brotherly or romantic- something different and new and definitely not sexual but still love. Hoseok is apart of Jungkook’s soul in a way that nothing else could be. There is no space left in his heart. Nothing left for anyone else. All of Jungkook belongs to this and their bond.

- Briefly, he wonders if maybe all this confusion is just Jungkook’s magical body getting re-used to the bond. Jis magical body can feel it so much more than his human body ever could.

- “I know” Jungkook feels breathless- but the whole in-between thing, he knew that too. For years Jungkook Has watched Hoseok battle with his hair enough times to know that the frustration was deeper than any superficial change. Jungkook has seen the looks- the longing when he sees something pretty and golden.

- When they were younger, Hoseok jokingly put on one of your corsets, almost too big for him. You’d loved it- thought it was just the cutest thing and hadn’t made him take it off until bedtime. “I promise you don’t want to sleep with it on Hoseok.”

- “This- all of them- Dawon” Hoseok takes Jungkook’s hand- more of a routine then any motion- and unlike before Jungkook lets him. “that just feels like a reason for all of that- that discomfort. If i’m a beta- then it all makes sense you know? but still I-”

- Hoseok steals himself to say the next words sighing them out “-I don’t think I could love anyone the way that mom loves dad you know” Jungkook thinks those words should hurt. But they don’t. He’s been thinking about the pain recently. How their father is their mother’s constant shadow, a ghost that cannot sleep, a love that haunts more than it loves.

- No question. Yoongi would tear apart himself for you if given the chance. But Hoseok- Hoseok doesn’t know if he’s ever felt something like that with such intensity. Sure he’d fight to the death for Jungkook and fight even harder if something was to separate them. But was that foundation built on the same kind of love? Could more love even fit in the space of his heart- with so much Jungkook already filling it up? Could this love change when it has no room to grow?

- It would be easier if they were bloodily related, jungkook realizes- then there would be no question. But the fact of the matter is that any romantic relationships that they might have with other people would feel like too much of a betrayal on both sides.

- Hoseok and Jungkook cannot love each other the way Yoongi loves you. and yet- Jungkook doesn’t want that with anyone else. Can’t even think about loving someone who isn’t Hoseok. Jungkook holds Hoseok’s hand to his face for one moment, then lets it go- lets the idea of this fall away, “I’m sorry for getting angry- let's go back”

- When they go back Hoseok sits next to Jungkook on the log. The others give them both a measured look- like theyre trying to find any remaining discord between their bond, leaning back satisfied when they find none.

- Jungkook doesn't need to know what they talked about while they were gone. Especially when hoseok immediately launches into another conversation with dawon- talking through their childhoods- and the parents that they’d both eventually found. “I think you’d really like my mom, she’s like a healer- a good one too” Hoseok can’t help but boast. “Healed my shoulder after-“ he trails off but tilts to show her how he can roll it.

- Jinseok comes over and inspects Hoseok’s shoulder, tilting it between his big hands and unlike before- it doesn’t make Jungkook jealous, (but that might have something to do with Hoseok’s hand on his thigh). Jinseok’s eyes are appraising when he lets it go “of course you healed! I’ve taken a few tumbles myself over the last few years. Almost thought my tail was gonna fall off that one time.” Felix laughs and Dawon rolls her eyes at it. “Yes we’re all aware of your stupidity that one time when-”

- “You’ll always be my person Kookie- I don’t need anyone else. I don’t want anyone else” Hoseok tells him when they’re pressed close underneath their bed things, set out underneath the stars. They’re both Significantly more full of wine than they’d been before and Hoseok’s words are nearly slurry.

- “I think…I think I might be a little broken.” Hoseok’s says like the words are a secret, eyes fluttering with tiredness. Jungkook presses closer in reply like Jungkook is making up for pieces Hoseok might be missing. He presses his forehead to Hoseok’s. Hoseok smells like home- Hoseok will always be home to Jungkook.

- “If you’re broken, I’m broken too” Jungkook’s words are cushioned against the skin of Hoseok’s shoulder. That night, Hoseok lies on his back and Jungkook slings a leg over his thighs. they revel in the closeness, loving every moment.

- Jungkook is already asleep- but Hoseok speaks anyway. “I don’t need anything else but you Kookie.”

- The next morning the two groups part ways. Dawon hugs Hoseok so tight that Jungkook feels his own spine ache a little. Hoseok must have explained to her last night about their goal of saving you. she seems like she understands why they need to leave. But Even so, she’s a little teary-eyed, reluctant to let him go. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Hoseok nods, his red curls bouncing, not a hit of hesitation.

- Hoseok hands her a little scroll. If they do make it to the Southern front where Namjoon is, the scroll will make sure that she and her flock are well taken care of by their uncles. Hoseok thinks that Jimin and Namjoon would like his older sister. That she’ll fit in well with the army.

- It isn’t until a few days later when they’re staying at uncle Namjoon and Jimin’s house that Jungkook and Hoseok have a chance to talk about any of it again. Jungkook could feel the flickers of uncertainty down their bond, judging that Hoseok needed to parse through his feeling and figure out what he needed to say.

- They only stay for the night, happy to have a familiar bed instead of curling up under the stars before they fly north. The house is empty besides them, though a housekeeper still comes by every day to water Jimin’s plants and make sure too much dust doesn’t settle.

- They ready for a long day of flying in one of the many guest rooms. Jungkook is just leaning down to tie his boots when he catches Hoseok looking at himself in the mirror. Running a brush through his curls. Hoseok thinks back through his memories of this house- and of the fairy and dragon that should be here with them. And particularly- words that Jimin said to Hoseok long ago when he’d asked about Himin’s gender.

- Hoseok can’t remember how old he was- but he remembers the fairy bending down to his level in the garden. “To tell you the truth, being a girl or a boy doesn’t matter much in our part of the world. What matters is that you’re good to the people who need you and kind to the people that don’t when you meet,”

- Its that memory that gives Hoseok the strength to finally meet Jungkook’s gaze in the mirror. “I think…I want to grow out my hair.”

-“Like aunt Jiminie?” Jungkook asks, standing and moving to stand behind him, Jungkook’s hands play in the small hairs at the back of Hoseok’s neck, and he leans forward to sniff, Hoseok already smells like the ocean. “Yeah” Hoseok looks worried- like it might not have Jungkook’s approval. the set of his shoulders tense like he’s readying jungkook to say something negative. But there isn’t a change he could make that would put Jungkook’s love and devotion in jeopardy. hoseok knows that but the worry still lingers.

- Jungkook tangles a hand in Hoseok’s hair, his reflection grinning back at Hoseok- Boyish and beautiful in a way that makes hoseok ache. “We’ll grow it out together” and they do, flying back and forth across the world. When Jungkook cuts his- Hoseok doesn’t. All until it’s down to his shoulders. The first time Yoongi sees he doesn’t even mention it- not even a little bit- too busy preening and what can only be called nesting.

- It’s something he’s started to do over the years to relieve his stress, piling up every single soft thing in the room around where your glass coffin is. No doubt preparing for you’re waking in a few days. A healthy flush in his cheeks that hadn’t been there last time they’d been home.

- Seokjin doesn’t say anything, but he does tug on the end of Hoseok’s hair, twining the long red strand around his fingers. He doesn’t say anything like he might have before, sensing Hoseok’s tenseness. He leaves a few spells tacked to his and Jungkook’s door spells for hair lengthening and to change the color should Hoseok desire it.

- Yoongi is so happy to have them home he doesn’t even notice anything’s different until the day Hoseok gets into your makeup collection. It’s only for them, just a tiny bit of rouge on his cheeks and to plump up his lips. Yoongi puts down his book when Hoseok walks in, eyes tracking him as he walks in. and Hoseok feels the worry sink underneath their skin before Seokjin taps Yoongi with his book, and they both go back to reading.

- But when Hoseok goes to his room later he finds a tiny pile of cosmetics on his bedside table. A delicate sea green brocade shirt that’s flowy- all but the sleeves opaque and embroidered with tiny flowers. It looks like something jimin would wear and Hoseok touches it with a reference he doesn’t quite know how to handle. A fondness growing in his heart.

- The next time they leave, Yoongi corners him, while not corners him- but sidles up to him while he’s on the back patio when the sun is just cresting over the trees just past sunrise. Hoseok might be an early riser but Seokjin and Jungkook still need a little while to sleep. “So, should I call you she now? Is that better for you?”

- Trust yoongi to go straight to the point. He’s so awkward, so cagey and quiet. So obviously wanting to offer comfort and understanding but unsure how to reach out. He’s used to using the rolling pronouns with jimin, but to use them for his son- his child- will take a second. It’s better to ask than wonder.

- “No, not yet- if ever.” and then in the quiet of the morning, a simple truth, “they is fine for me dad.”

- “When did you know?” Yoongi has to wonder, had you and him not being open enough? You’d both never talked to Jungkook and Hoseok about jimin, but you’d both believed you’d raised your children to come to you when they had a question or a concern. And Yoongi doesn’t like the idea that Hoseok could have been holding onto these feelings for some time. too afraid to be honest.

- Hoseok doesn’t answer right away, because there isn’t a good one. Was it the way he’d never played with strictly the girls or boys in grade school? The way he’d often found himself clinging to you and wanting to dress in your pretty fabrics than the drab black clothes his father favored?

- it was hard to tell what if anything had made Hoseok first question their gender. Did his betaness cause it? Or was the difference caused by not settling purely into one side? “I met my sister.” is all he can say, the only bit of information it makes sense to proffer up.

- That- out of everything they might have said does get a reaction out of Yoongi. his hands tightening on the edge of the stone wall. “I didn’t know she was still alive.”

- “Neither did I” Hoseok busies their hands with playing with the flowers that have gathered along the rock wall, small and pink. The ever spring around them so delicate and careful. The exact way that Hoseok feels today. “She told me I’m a beta, and after that- it all kind of makes sense?”

- Yoongi makes a noise in the back of his throat. Then suddenly, turns his golden eyes on his…child. (That train of thought will take some time getting used to) “Well if there’s anything I can be doing better- let me know okay?” he pulses Hoseok in for a quick scent mark, and the sudden affection nudges a purr from Hoseok’s throat. But overall the conversation just leaves them feeling soft and taken care of, understood and accepted in a way Hoseok had never realized they’d craved.

- By the time they leave, Yoongi is pushing a small velvet sack of coins in their directions. “You should get a few things that fit you better the next time you're in the city.”

- And they do, Hoseok and Jungkook work their way through the cloth market with a vigor they haven’t found in years, fine silks and velvets- perfect for the cold weather up north. Most in rich tones of gold, purple and red- red is Hoseok’s favorite color. Hoseok gets their ears pierced on a whim- fills his studs with little bits of gold that make them glow when they catch sight of themselves in a mirror.

- And when they come back after a day of shopping. It's Jungkook who pulls him close. Running a finger over the corner of their mouth to correct the placement of their lipstick. A fresh tube. Sometimes Hoseok doesn’t bother putting it on, or with the more cumbersome pretty clothes, but if they’re going to see anyone, even if that someone is just Jungkook- the red lip color stays.

- When you wake a few months later; you cup Hoseok’s cheek- hands still a little shaky and reluctant to move. “You look-” you search Hoseok’s eyes for something- anything that would show misgivings, “it looks so pretty Hobi” Hoseok plays with their fingers in their lap. It’s a cute behavior, one that Jungkook’s noticed appears more as time goes on and hoseok gets more comfortable with changing their body.

- “Don’t you mean handsome?” they say, swallowing back a lump in their throat. Their long hair is pulled back today, to give the same appearance of masculinity at least from the front. Jungkook braided it this morning, he’s been learning how to do it for hoseok- not quiet as nimble with their fingers yet like Jungkook is. The moments in the morning when Jungkook brushes their hair and winds it back- are some of his favorites- the soft moments he can spend with hoseok. Hoseok didn’t want to scare you too bad, from the front- they almost look the same. “Not if you don’t want me to mean it. You can be pretty too.”

-It’s not until the next time Hoseok and Jungkook set out that they actually quantify it in words. “I think I’m like Jimin- well not- like jimin. But I think I could be.” aunty and uncle Jimin, who’s just as comfortable in a skirt as they are in a pair of pants. Jungkook leans over, combing through Hoseok’s long hair. Reaching down to the sensitive spot between his- their shoulders. “Okay” is all he says, but his smile is sweet even in the light. “That’s okay with me Hobi.”

- And it is- it always will be, as long as Hoseok has people like this, the ones that have always made him feel like it was safe to be himself- no matter what form he wants to take. Hoseok will be okay. At night, their arms tighten around Jungkook. “I want you to be okay too Kookie” Jungkook sleeps on, oblivious to the turmoil-taking root in Hoseok’s heart.

- Yes, he loves Jungkook, but can Hoseok really love in the way that Jungkook needs? Are they just keeping each other from happiness or is this the only thing they’ll ever need?

- In his arms Jungkook dreams fitfully. But down to his core, he knows If there was ever a time when he felt like he needed more from Hoseok- if what they have ever felt like not enough, He’d never do anything about it. Never ask for more. Never. They don’t need anyone else- no lover, friends, or mates. Just each other. Their bond will always be enough.

- The days spent waiting pass like sluggish honey for Yoongi, sweet when they meet the tip of his tongue but only a hint of the sweet eternity he promises you. They blend together for you- more than the dizzying cacophony of dreams. Sometimes you forget where you belong, and forget that you have to wake up.

- When you can- you strong arm and squirm your way into wherever he is, curled up around you and set a hand on his scaly cheek, there is a limit to how far you can go from your body, and that seems to be a fair mile from where you sleep. So if you wake when Yoongi flies, it’s enough to be able to sit in the garden and enjoy the flowers and sunlight. Every time you manage to knock yourself out of a dream, you can go a little bit farther. Like your soul is getting used to how it feels outside your body.

- And when you do actually stay in the dream world- lucid dreaming becomes an avid habit of yours. Taehyung teaches you how to do it. As dangerous as it is lovely to feel real things when you can, you do often get lost in the way you can change the world you’re in. Are you a god? Or just a dreamer? Taehyung’s hand in yours keeps you tethered. You wonder how he managed to keep his sanity living alone like this for so many years. In the dream world- days are years and years are eons.

- And what makes it worse is that you know it won't feel like so long when you wake- the sluggish feeling that not so much time could have passed even though you know it has. The spell around you keeps you dreaming like it's been days, while your body lives those hours as a second. Your mind and your body age out of sync.

- Yoongi’s timed it before, every hour he sees your chest rise and fall. One breath for every hour

- You feel like you’ve spent years in the dreams at this point, recreating each of your wildest fantasies. Though some feel too real not to be born of your memories. You dream of The walls of your cavern home that you haven’t gone back to in years, feeling the cold stone with a warm body behind you- Yoongi. Or hours spent just outside the front doorsteps of your manor house, waiting for Yoongi to come home with Hoseok while Jungkook plays in the field.

- Flowers that flash like beacons out of the corner of your eye, and then it’s not only Jungkook but Hoseok playing in the field too. Both of them running through the field and casting the dandelions onto the floor that spark like embers. Yoongi chases after them- both of them barely come up to his waist. You watch it from the corner of your eye knowing it will feel less real if you turn your head and look at the memory directly.

- The smell of cooking peaches stings in your nose- sour- and you know if you went into your house you could probably find taehyung there- cooking a peach pie. Though it’s a toss up if it would actually be him- and now just a memory you don’t have confused in this.

- You Watch as Hoseok flashes red from human to dragon tackling Yoongi to the ground with a warped grumbly giggle. Jungkook is quick to flop on top with one hand fisted and knocking against Yoongi’s chest, the other buried in Hoseok’s feathery coat.

-It makes you smile- the dreams- these memories are the only thing that makes you remember you’re dreaming. Because you know Hobi and Jungkook haven’t been that small for years. Your children are fully grown now.

- You wish you could go back to those times when it was simpler. And the dreams let you do just that, again and again until the memory barely feels real.

- What surprises you the most are the nightmares. They always bleed into your dreams the moment you least expect them and when you truly let your guard down. Ink darkening the edges of this story before you realize the badness is bleeding through. Anger and a wordless hunger tainting the happy moments.

- You dont think the anger comes from you- maybe its anger from the dream- the world that has found you an unwelcome guest. People aren’t supposed to sleep for so long. And the dream world tries everything it can to get you to wake up.

- Maybe it’s worried you’ll learn how to dream when you’re awake.

- The worst part about the nightmares aren’t the fear- It’s not the falling through the sky, or faceless men chasing you, monsters, or tragedies that you can’t escape. It’s that the nightmares don’t feel the same as when you were awake, no blurry edges- everything too real. These nightmares are born of your memories only to be twisted by the dream world into something more sinister.

- Sometimes you feel like they’re showing you the future- or if not the future- then something that could have happened to your family.

- The nightmares show you realities where Jungkook still wants to be a warrior. Ones where Yoongi never found him and you all meet another way, Not as a family but as enemies on the battlefield.

- In the nightmare, the war has come earlier with Yoongi at the head of the council. And he’s become everything he always feared he could have been, those whispered confessions he’d uttered to you and you’d uttered back under only the cover of darkness. “I think I might be a bad person” “it doesn’t matter if you’re good- just that you’re good to us Yoongi, and for the record- I think it shows the content of your character that you care so much- even when caring hurts”

- In the nightmare world He’s everything he would have been without you. Easily tempted to war without knowing softness and love, without having something to protect. And he’d never chosen a mate either- Yoongi is as lonely and touch-starved as he is bloodthirsty and violent.

- In this nightmare Hoseok is just another dragon soldier who hates humans because of what they’ve done to him. Hoseok and Jungkook first meet each other on opposite sides of the war. Not as brothers but as enemies. Does Hoseok fall by Jungkook’s blade? Or will Jungkook burn without ever knowing about the magic that lurked in his veins? Or worse- would he have found out and used his powers to aid the only people he’d ever known.

- Would he and Seokjin fought in that reality? Two forces so destructive that they could only take out each other- flattening the mountains and ending thousands of lives when they clash. You hear them- from where you watch them fight. the dream war is just as bloody and terrible as the real one- and it's worse to see your family fight.

- Seokjin’s face is tense, eyes slowly dripping blood as he holds the magic in his hands. and jungkook- jungkook looks almost evil. Jungkook’s words don’t sound like your son- his voice deeper- like the dream just can’t get it right “this issue here uncle- is that you have something to fight for and I do not.”

- You beg the dream world to let you wake up but Seokjin’s spell holds you there with ironclad hands.

- You wonder what’s become of taehyung in this reality. Would he have woken from his coffin without Seokjin’s magic to keep him there- or would he have stayed asleep? Never to be woken again? would he sleep the same way Seokjin does, chest broken open on the battlefield, his heart removed clutched in Jungkook’s hand?

- In the dream where Jungkook doesn't know he’s magical, you’re a medic for the human army walking along with the isles of the wounded. Treading over piles of feathers and blood to check the faintly moving chest of a young man, so beautiful despite the fact he’s nearly dead. You don’t recognize Jungkook when you look at him- barely 19 and dying without the magic to protect him and keep him alive

- Maybe it’s some consolation that this other version of you gets to hold Jungkook as he dies. Gets to soothe him and say, “it’s alright, it won’t hurt in a second, you just have to stop breathing and you’ll be at peace.” As he sputters and tries to breathe through his torn lungs. You know what those claw marks mean on his chest- that they’re too deep to ever heal. Jungkook only has minutes left with his shredded lungs.

- You’re so focused on comforting the fallen soldier that you don’t notice the beast that lurks in the shadows. Yoongi might be large but he’s also near-silent and invisible in the darkness. Yoongi only feels hate and not love as he watches you, fire growing in his belly. You might be a medic but you’re still a human and every man you save is just another that will one day fall. The kiss of fire on the back of your neck burns hot and painful one moment, and then the touch of his lips soft the next as you breathe through the nightmare.

- Those are the worst sort of dream because part of you is convinced that’s what could have happened if Yoongi had never killed Jungkook’s blood family. As gruesome as it sounds, you think you’d rather have it this way than be doomed to that fate. At least now- you’re all loved, though you’ll have to see if one day, the one you love becomes the reason the other dies. For both you and Hoseok.

- Maybe soulmates hurt each other just as often as much as love each other.

- When you wake- you tell Yoongi about the dream and kiss his forehead where his head is pillowed against your thigh. Head tilted so his horns don’t knock into your hip. “Do they feel real? The dreams in which I kill you?” he asks you. He doesn’t want you to ever think of that, the improbability of him deciding to hurt you. that you could ever believe that his hands that love you could ever hurt you makes his stomach drop. Yoongi would let himself die, would turn his hands on himself- before he let himself hurt you.

- “Sometimes” you admit, as you kiss him more, deeper now that you can verify it's real. Kisses in the dream world always feel 2d, not like now- when you can taste him and feel his warmth. Kissing him is like hello and a new daydream all at once. Sweet and sweeter because you know it's real. Syrup and honey in equal measure. “But don’t worry, I never believe those dreams for long,”

- But Yoongi does worry, And the day comes that you do forget.

- It’s one of the rare times that Hoseok and Jungkook haven’t come home in time to see you wake. They’re kept south by a snowstorm wiping through the northern lands. But Yoongi’s glad they weren’t they're- glad they didn’t see it.

- It’s the first time that you wake and don’t remember them, your memories and your mind lost to the dream world. Screaming for Taehyung of all people as you fight Yoongi’s hands (only trying to hold you up seeing as you look about ready to pass out). You backpedal on shaky legs and hit the glass edge of your coffin with a violent thud. It shatters against the floor in a great cacophony of glass shards.

- Yoongi barely scoops you up in time so that you don’t fall against them and hurt yourself. Your hands weekly pushing at him to stay away, a monster that you never learned to love, a face you don’t know.

- Taehyung is crying in his coffin as he says your name. Hand weakly reaching out to Tae, Your panic stinks in Yoongi’s nose. Your body is afraid of him- that’s what breaks his heart the most- that he can smell the fear on you and he knows he’s caused it. it's all he can do to repeat in his mind that you’re just Sleepwalking, that’s what it is. You don’t actually hate him- you couldn’t.

- But you won’t wake up- no matter how much Yoongi calls your name. How is it so much harder for you than it is for Taehyung? Seokjin’s never said he did anything like this, Taehyung has never lost himself in the dream world like this.

- The second Tae feels like he has control of his legs he pushes Yoongi off of you. Cupping your cheeks and pulling you up and onto his glass coffin. “It’s not a dream- you’re not dreaming” but your eyes dart around the room like you’re not really seeing it. Yoongi sits there surrounded by glass watching as you don’t fight Tae.

- “Y/n you’re awake- this is your real life- this isn’t another nightmare” But his words fall on your unhearing ears. You stare at Taehyung like they’re something growing out of his head- and who knows- maybe there is. A piece of the dream world that you’ve carried into your waking hours. A hallucination. Yoongi doesn’t want to think about what you might have seen when you looked at his face.

- “Why are you calling me that? That’s not my name.” that’s the final straw, Seokjin knocked out of his reverie and Yoongi pining himself to the wall while Seokjin puts you back to sleep, a thumb pressed to your forehead until you slump in Tae’s arms. Tae holds you so delicately. And it takes seeing him cry for Yoongi to recognize the wetness on his own cheeks as tears too.

- He almost wants to reach out and keep you here. Because he knows- Yoongi knows- once you go into that coffin again they’re no getting you out. One more year to tick by without you. Two at once- They’ve never done this before and they can only hope it works- that you come back whole the next time.

- By the time Jungkook and Hoseok get home at noon, Hoseok’s wings are coated with a faint layer of frost. Yoongi is still sitting out on the edge of the property, watching the faintly raging snowstorm outside the barrier. Eyes wet and dark. His arms wrapped around himself like he’s trying to comfort himself. To alleviate the ache of being untouched. Maybe it’s dramatic- but Yoongi aches like he’s been shot down by an arrow. He never knew he could get so touch starved.

- His children watch him, mixed terror and discomfort at finding their father without their mother on the one day they should be seen together. “She’s not awake- you can get inside and see her though.” yoongi feels like he’ll never be warm again.

- The eternal spring of Seokjin’s home is more than enough to have the cold dissipate, but the cold at seeing you in Tae’s coffin stays. Yours shattered to the side (Seokjin will repair it for Tae later), is something that chills Jungkook to the bone. Jungkook doesn’t realize he’s using the magic in a panic until Hoseok touches his cheek and calls his name.

-All Jungkook knows is that your coffin magically replaced behind Tae’s and that the roses on the trellis outside are sneaking in through the open window. The warmth of Hoseok’s palm is welcomed comfort that Jungkook leans into. Trying not to cry.

- Jungkook and Hoseok get the story from Tae and Seokjin and then go back outside to sit next to their father. “Am I doing the right thing? Or should we just let her wake up and-“ Jungkook is the first to shake his head. “Mom doesn’t want to die dad- she’d say the same if she could” Hoseok’s hands tighten on their pants. Their whole body shaking at the thought of letting you- just letting you die.

- “Next year- it will be different.” No one says that they don’t know that for sure. That they’re just trying whatever they think will work without knowing if you’re right. If you even can come back. Jungkook and Hoseok stay for longer this time, to comfort their father. But then-one day weeks later, he stands up.

- They’re out of books. At least for now- until Hoseok and Jungkook can rocket across the world, every swipe of Hoseok’s wings faster- harder, pushing themselves to carry more. They feel like time is ticking down.

- The next year you wake without a fuss. And no one mentions the last year to you; you don’t remember what happened at all. You have no idea that it’s been two since they last saw you. And this time- Yoongi treasures it even more. For 18 hours- he doesn’t stop touching you. A hand on your lower back or your cheek. 18 hours of love after two years of nothing.

- Hoseok watches you carefully, looking for a hint that you know what happened, that you remember it in any way. But the day remains lost to the tangle of your memories and dreams. More than once- Hoseok catches you watching them, eyes furrowed like you’re having some sort of inner debate or trying to decide if what you’re seeing is real.

- Your brief wakefulness might be their favorite part- but it’s also the scariest.

- It gets a little better, the dreams can’t create new things for you- only things you’ve experienced before really. So when you see them in newer clothes, when they actively change things about your surroundings before you wake up it makes a difference.

- Seokjin changes the spell around his castle to fall just for you, and you spend ages in the garden, pressing sweet tomatoes to Yoongi’s mouth and cooking pumpkin seeds with Hoseok and Jungkook. Hoseok excitingly shows you their new trick- a little jet of fire that they can manage on their hands in their human form. It’s far from Yoongi’s near magic control of fire but it still makes you smile and shout and give Hoseok little scratches on the head a proud feeling in your chest.

- No matter that you need to reach up to do it now- they’ve been taller than you for so long it’s hard to remember they were ever so tiny. Hoseok’s change is also another thing that makes it easier. You dislike it- and you’d never treat your child any differently than how they wanted to treat them- but when you dream Hoseok- they’re still listless in their skin, a boy along with Jungkook.

- It’s reassuring when you wake and find them still the same as ever but so much more comfortable in their skin than they’d ever been before. As a child, Hoseok had been quiet and easily anxious (only soothed by Jungkook) now they’re louder and happier, a little bit of something shimmery gold on their eyelids, dancing around the kitchen and sending off little puffs of yellow fire (only to be contained by Jungkook’s magic).

- “Really Hobi- the kitchen is made of wood- you’ve got to be careful’). Their face stretching in a familiar heart-shaped smile that you all love. Hoseok is so so happy.

- You’ve never seen them this happy, and that makes the discontent rise in your chest because- how had you never realized they weren’t? How did you never see that Comfort was a fickle thing in Hoseok’s chest in a way it wasn’t for anyone but Jimin.

- You try to remember back to their meeting sometimes. Hoseok had looked at Jimin like he hung the stars and asked more questions than anyone else. You’d assumed it was just childlike curiosity- but maybe that had a deeper meaning than you’d initially thought.

- Before you sleep you unpack some of your old clothes and hand them down to Hoseok. Fine clothes and silks that Yoongi had made for you when you lived closer to the dragon city. Seeing as you have no use for them anymore, they’re a similar size- and Hoseok is only a little bit larger than you, maybe a tad bit broader but you liked your clothes flowy and loose anyway.

- You anchor yourself with their smile when you go into the dreams again. Excited to wake and help Hoseok explore their feminine side more.

- The nightmares are ever vibrant and feverish, with reality at a resolution just out of clarity. You dream of each of your family hurt beyond repair and you dream that they’re happy without you. Those hunters grabbing a tiny Hoseok by his feathers and tear them- his beautiful- delicate wings, and pluck him like a chicken.

- They do the same to Yoongi- albeit slower, removing every inch of his wing membrane until his bones clatter together like a wind chime. You have to watch, unable to move regardless of his roars that shake the earth. Maybe it says a lot about your love if the thing you’re scared of most is not being there to comfort Yoongi.

- Other nightmares of black fire that climbs the walls and sinks close to Jungkook in his baby basket. A calamity that you cannot end, like the trudge of time- the nightmares feel like they last forever. The wand in his arm burning too- unable to bond with him. His soul burned from the inside out. You scramble over his ashes, grasping at them like it will bring him back.

- You can’t help it, sobbing like your heart was ripped out. Hoseok falling too, crying in anguish as part of his soul dies. his wings fall limp- unable to fly without Jungkook. The saddest death is that of someone who can no longer do what they love, and the second saddest is a dragon without its wings.

- It’s so sad, It’s just like that time you woke up and saw only strangers in your bedroom, the nightmares always feel so real.

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Part 8: The Woman and The War *coming soon*

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