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#i managed to tolerate and accept it

crowlore · 6 months

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ive joked about acting out and being less palatable here on occasion as a way to keep the rent down but sometimes that urge is so real cause ill see the way people post about like. psychotic people and i just know that if i stopped masking to any degree on my own personal blog a lot of people would instantly turn on me because psychotic symptoms are so undesirable. idk it’s just like. the campaign to make mental illness marketable is nothing new we’ve seen it with anxiety and depression and now autism and we’re even seeing the theft and memeification of psychotic experiences (see: “schizoposting” by non-schizoids and the use of “delulu”) and it makes me. soooooo. i don’t even know that angry is the right word. im angry a lot. this isn’t that.

like. will y’all be satisfied when you’ve ironed the wrinkles out of mental illness? separated the good and funny symptoms from the bad and inconvenient ones? when everyone whose existence makes you even a little uncomfortable is no longer allowed to claim their own conditions lest they bring a bad name to the nice and cooperative people? must be nice, being one of the good and ignorable sick people. not like us crazies.

#fine. adding a disclaimer. i understand the urge to make your illness something nice. something positive. something tolerable.#do what you need to do in your personal life to combat the societal pressure to not see yourself as a person. you deserve personhood #what i am asking is to be mindful of your peers. they may not see things the way you do and pushing for a makeover of our image is. well #it’s not possible in a way that will help.#it will be far better for us if you just accept the really ugly parts instead of trying to paint over and hide your peers #that’s a lot to ask. it is difficult. it is so fucking difficult i know.#but we deserve personhood too with all the nastiness that brings and i hate pretending im manageable

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thebibliosphere · 2 months

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Ma'am/Sir/Other

So much of your blog is "Yaya another thing in my body broke (kill me)"

I'm not judging at all, cause I'm also dealing with that somewhat but,

In the most polite manner possible;

How the fuck do you manage to function without killing everyone around you in a bodily pain induced rage.

Body hurts too much.

But in all seriousness, therapy and a whole lot of radical acceptance.

I don't approve or like what’s happening to me, but realistically, there is no way to avoid it, so I either have to accept it and make changes to my life or reject it and increase my suffering.

It might take me a while to process this change and there might be a few screaming breakdowns in the interim (”it's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair!”) but after a long time of doing this type of therapy, I’ve gotten good at holding my own hand and holding myself through the despair.

It’s a bit like being my own gentle parent. Like “hey bud, I know this sucks and you’re feeling a lot of big emotions right now. And I’m not asking you to stop feeling them, but I do need you to eat and drink before you get sick, okay? Okay, you’ve had some water, do you want to try for a shower? No? Okay, let’s go back to bed for a bit. We’ll try later... Cry it out if you need to. I’ve got you.”

Probably sounds bonkers to some people but it's the only reason I’m still alive.

My support network is wonderful and they do so much to keep me going, but it wasn't until I allowed myself to feel my emotions and self soothe through them that things got better.

I can’t change what has been done to me. I can’t change the dynamic nature of my disabilities or the fact that parts of my body will continue to break down. But I can accept myself and say, this is the way things are: react accordingly for our continued survival.

Radical acceptance isn’t about approval or giving up. It's a stress tolerance skill that lets you look at some of the worst parts of your life and go “fuck this sucks. Okay, how do I make this suck less?” and then following through on it.

It's a skill that takes a long time to build. But it's well worth investing in.

#chronic health tag #mental health #radical acceptance

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ghostlyferrettarot · 2 months

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🖤✨️Venus in the houses✨️🖤

❗️All the observations in this post are based on personal experience and research, it's completely fine if it doesn't resonate with everyone❗️

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings)Open.

🖤🖤If you like my work you can support me through Ko-fi. Thank you!🖤🖤

🖤Masterlist🖤

♥︎Venus 1st house: charming people with a flirtatious aura. They know how to get people attached to them ; love to compliment others but expect double the praise in return, they know they are a catch. This individuals are usually the life of the party, the one who unites the relationship/friendship group.

♥︎Venus 2nd house: This is the house of finances, so these people prefer to be pampered by their loved one. People with strong values and respect, they expect the same from their partners. They don't play, they want stability and seriousness in a relationship; most loyal and supporting persons ever.

♥︎Venus 3rd house: really flirtatious and persuasive. They value new experiences, they are attracted to other's personality and interests. You have to keep them entertained, they have an adventurous nature and can get bored easily when it comes to a routine.

♥︎Venus 4th house: These individuals have a really harmonious and protective nature, a fairy-like aura to them. They value comfort and openness in a relationship, they want to feel the love of their partners and create a special bond with them. These people tend to attract people with mommy and daddy issues, with an "I can fix them" vibe.

♥︎Venus 5th House: These are my luxurious people, they have high standards and don't care what anyone has to say about it. They are in love with love, their cheerful nature attracts them towards creative people and people who are in a position of fame or success. They are the muses of artists.

♥︎Venus 6th house: These individuals tend to manage many things at once, they thrive on self-improvement. Their love language tends to be acts of service, they are also attracted to truly selfless people. They can spot a lie from miles away, value trust, and expect the same from their romantic partners. They forgive but they never forget.

♥︎Venus 7th house: They have an attractive and persuasive personality, they are tolerant and charismatic. The 7th house is the house of agreement and partnership, so your luck will probably change after your marriage, your significant other may play an important role in your life. These people crave love and genuine connections.

♥︎Venus 8th house: They are very sensual and intimidating; tend to have stalkers and admirers. They value deep connections, people who truly understand and accept them. People with some type of trauma are attracted to them. You may be interested in occult sciences and have healing powers.

♥︎Venus 9th house: They have a happy aura and an adventurous character. These individuals are attracted to optimistic and adventurous people, those who value their beliefs and want to take risks with them. Venus in the 9th house attracts many foreigners as it may indicate a lot of travelling, you significant other may be from another country.

♥︎Venus 10th House: The 10th House governs public image, career aspirations, and career achievements which makes these individuals attracted to status. They are goal-oriented, always looking to improve, and expect the same from their partners. You will want to live a high-profile life and connect with influential people.

♥︎Venus 11th house: They have a calming and jovial personality. Easily attract many friends who would want to work and connect with you to grow your business. These are my "friends to lovers" trope, they value friendship over romance, which attracts them to those closer to them.

♥︎Venus 12th house: These are my artistic people, they have a lot of passion and compassion. They tend to be attracted to spiritual or helpful people. They value connections and are naturally drawn to others; They find much comfort in helping those around them. They are looking for a partner with good character and empathy.

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oglegoggle · 1 year

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Just like… the first fight was when we were sitting in the tub together a couple days after his cat slashed my literal eyeball, and I told him outright that the cat is not allowed in my home again. His immediate response was to say “So you’re dumping me?” and I wasn’t at all trying to dump him I was trying to assert boundaries around the trauma I just endured and he left.

The second fight was after a few months of living apart but still dating when we were sitting in the tub together and he read my comments on a Tumblr post about ADHD folks being allergic to taking responsibility for their own actions. He asks me what sparked the comment and I told him that I found one of my most beloved dishes broken, hidden in the living room in a pile of his garbage he just left in my fuckin house and wouldn’t clean up and his reaction was to say he doesn’t remember breaking and hiding my dish (I don’t remember therefore it never happened legit being one of the biggest emotional triggers in my life and he knew this) He asked why I didn’t tell him about it if I’ve been feeling hurt by his behavior and I told him that I feel like confronting him about things when I feel hurt doesn’t change the nature of our relationship.

By that point he had scheduled us exactly one consult for couples counseling (after several months of asking over and over again for cc) and afterwards decided it would be a waste of time and money since I would be leaving anyway so I had just kinda accepted that we’re not trying to make the relationship work anymore we’re enjoying fuckin so why bother with arguing over emotional shit? He again left. Two days later I texted him apologizing for saying mean things about him on my blog, and he never did respond. Two days after that I realized I shouldn’t be apologizing for being hurt by his behavior and I’ve in fact done a hell of a lot of apologizing for being hurt by his behavior, a lot of taking financial responsibility for his fuckups, parenting him because he’s incapable of doing literally anything in the way of chores, and just enduring the stress of his filth and the seizures his dog gave me and the new heap of PTSD his cat gave me and I realized that I’m just going to be ground into dust by his selfishness and apathy towards the impact his actions have on others if I continue. I blocked him on everything.

I am certainly aware that I’m not always kind and gentle, and I do want to genuinely apologize for and fix my mistakes, espesh in regards to people I care about. But the truth of the matter is that I put work into fixing my mistakes and flaws. He did not. I was constantly walking on eggshells with him emotionally because every time I would go “Hey, this thing you do hurts me” the two plausible responses were “I’ve got (insert mental illness here) so tI’m not capable of doing better.” or “This is the end of us!” And well…. Yeah. That was the end of us. I would certainly have appreciated it if I could’ve maintained a friendship with him, but he’s honestly a real drain of a person and I’m better off without him. I still have that longing urge to text him and talk but I know that he’s bad for me. He’s said it himself, he’s not capable of doing better. And I deserve better.

#this is goggles #it was so fucking funny to me eating dinner with one of his friends before I left #and they were like super supportive and told me yeah he expects a lot out of relationships and puts nothing back in #he’s a shitty partner and I somehow doubt he’ll do any growing up #he’ll just look for a new partner to break and the cycle will continue #I miss being touched every day but at least my beautiful things and expensive appliances aren’t constantly being broken #I need a partner whom actually cares and wants to do better #because I know that I’m not perfect nobody is and I want to do better and be better and I have been making the changes in my life needed #he just blames mental illness/neurodivergence and says you gotta accept that he’s not capable of not hurting me #and yanno my dude I have accepted that and I won’t deal with it any longer #I feel so lonely but at least I’m not living in a pit of his squalor and carelessness any longer #I’ve also got ADHD bitch and I was the one managing the fucking household #he’s mad I think he’s stupid as fuck? okay #I don’t think he’s stupid as fuck I think he’s apathetic about the damage he does to those around him #which is a hell of a lot harder to justify being selfish than it is just being a natural born moron #the grace I granted him was rooted in my perception of his idiocy and if he doesn’t want me to think he’s stupid then so be it #okay dude you’re smart enough to know better you just don’t care anout the paint I’ve endured in trying desperately to support him #I tolerated a lot of ways his behavior triggered me because I was used to it #and he did indeed encourage me to demand better from my life #just not from him so it’s seems #I can’t say that he only had a bad impact on me because he did in a lot of good ways #but that doesn’t mean that he was good for me yanno #I wish I’d been more steadfast on not dating him when I told him on our second date that I don’t think we’re compatible #he pushed for more and I gave it to him he pushed for more and I gave it to him he pushed for more and more and more #I miss him but honestly I miss his body more than the person who lives inside it #I miss the healing nature of being held I really need some snuggles but that’s not on the menu #je would tell me over and over again I’m the most important person in his life but he would not put me first in literally any circumstance #I miss him but really I miss the early times when I actually felt like he did care about my needs #I miss feeling like someone was 100% totally into me even if he wasn’t #I miss sleeping snuggled up with another it makes it so much easier

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alastor-simp · 3 months

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Alastor with a female reader who is selectively mute Part 2

Here is part 2 of this story. Mimzy is gonna be in this story as well, since we havent heard her talk yet or what her personality is like, im just gonna write how I think she will talk and act. Enjoy everyone:)

***5 Months Later***

You had adapted to hell surprisingly well. Yes there was some bumps along the way, due to you being mute, but you adjusted as time went on. Your relationships with everyone in the hotel had grown significantly. Charlie adored you and loved you like a sister. She was this close to telling her dad if it was possible to adopt you into the family, but you frantically declined as you suspected it would complicate things, but it was sweet that she loved you so much to do that. Vaggie slowly adjusted to you, don't blame her, she was always untrustworthy of everyone in the hotel, but she came around sooner or later. She offered to teach you some self defense as you were still an easy target. It was a bit difficult, but you managed despite your clumsiness. Angel Dust was a bit annoying in the beginning as he really wanted to hear your voice, but the puppy dog eyes you gave him made him quit. Now he treats you like his bestie, taking you shopping and having you attend some of his shows, which flustered you, but you wanted to support him. Niffty found you adorable when you first met and she still does. She has tried not to speed run towards you, since it always shocked you, causing you to drop your notepad in the past. It took a while, but she was able to do it. Husk was literally your dad figure. He always came over when you appeared upset about something and offered to cheer you up with his card tricks or make you a virgin cocktail, especially since your alcohol tolerance was negative 1000. You loved that he became that caring towards you, especially how gruff he was with everyone else. Sir Pentious was a new addition to the hotel. He first appeared when he tried to blow up the hotel a second time, only for Al to defeat him easily. Later after that, he became a patron at the hotel. He wondered why you didn't speak, but after a talk with Charlie and Vaggie, he no longer questioned it. He did enjoy your company, whenever you came to his work space, as he was crafting his inventions. His Egg Bois adored you as well, which pleased him. Alastor had become almost your protector/best friend. Its crazy to think how in the beginning, he was a bit annoyed when you didn't respond to his question, to now where he was always there to help you whenever you were in a pickle. His radio tower was your sanctuary as you always headed up there during his broadcasts. Alastor would always anticipate you coming as well, as it made his day a whole lot better whenever you showed up and took a seat next to him, admiring him as he continued his broadcast.

Getting ready for the day, you stood in front of your mirror, making sure you look spiffy. Alastor had invited you to attend one of Mimzy's shows at her club. Excitement raced through your body, and you nodded quickly when he asked you. Alastor mentioned before that her shows were very entertaining, so it made you very happy when he invited you to come. After a few minutes of looking yourself over, you walked over to the bed and grabbed the cell phone that was there. Charlie had gotten you it a few weeks ago as a gift. She had installed a text to speech app on it, so whatever you typed on the phone, a voice would respond back. Tears filled your eyes when she gave it to you, almost apologizing for all the trouble she had to go through to get it for you, but she said it was fine and it hardly cost anything. You knew she was royalty, so one cell phone wouldn't be a big deal, but it was to you. After a bunch of persuasion from Charlie saying it was really alright, you accepted the cell phone, not before engulfing Charlie in a hug. It took a while to get use to it, but it got easier over time, and it was a whole lot better then the notepad.

Rushing out of the room, your feet carried you over to the lobby, where a certain deer demon was patiently waiting. Alastor's ear twitched when he heard the pitter patter of your feet, turning to face you with a smile. Stopping to catch your breath, you stood in front of Al and gave a small wave, causing him to chuckle. His eyes scanned your outfit and found it to be perfect for today's activities. "Excited are we, my dear?" Looking at Al, you nodded your head, smiling widely. How adorable he thought. Hooking his arm with yours, Alastor banged his microphone on the ground, causing a portal to open in front of you. "Transporting like this may be new to you, my dear! Hold on tight!" The both of you entered the portal. It felt extremely odd, but you powered through it. The portal had brought you in front of a large building, with a large neon sign reading "Mimzy's." There was a crowd of demons around the building, probably ready for the show, as Mimzy was very popular. Entering inside, your eyes were drawn to the decor. It was a lavish place, the walls were covered in burlesque posters, and string lights decorated the ceiling. It had a very spacious bar and in the center of the room was a large stage with a small band in the background. Heading over to a certain section, there was a table that read VIP. This must be for us, since Alastor was a frequent visitor at this place. Sitting down in the seat, Alastor called over a server, asking for their most popular giggle water, while turning to you and asking what you would like. Taking your phone out, you typed your answer and played it out:

"𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚎𝚢 𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎."

The server was confused at that, but just shrugged and nodded while going over to complete the order. Alastor was not fond that you had to resort to that annoying technology to speak, but he did noticed how more calm you were using it then the notepad, so he kept his opinion to himself. After the server returned with the drinks, the lights began to dim, and the crowd began to let out cheers, as the main entertainer made her way to the stage. Mimzy was a very short demon, a little chubby, but very gorgeous. Her flapper dress suit her very well, as she made her way to the center of the stage. "Good evening, Ladies and Gents! Y'all ready for tonight's performance?" Cheers and whistles were the response to that. "That's what I like to hear! Hit it boys!" The stage lights flashed, as Mimzy walked closer to the front of the stage, standing in front of the microphone, ready to amaze everyone.

youtube

(LOVE THIS SINGER, Check her out)

The performance drew to a close, and you were blown away. Her voice was amazing. Loud cheers and applause radiated throughout the whole room, as Mimzy gave a bow. Both you and Alastor clapped with the crowd as Mimzy left the stage, leaving the band there, as they played some jazz to keep the entertainment alive. Alastor turned towards you, asking if you enjoyed the show, to which you responded with an enthusiastic nod. "Why Alastor! You made it" a familiar voice, called out from behind the both of you, as you saw Mimzy walking towards the both of you. "Of course, Mimzy my dear! You do know how much I adore your performances!" Alastor smiled as he greeted Mimzy, placing a kiss on her hand. Mimzy's eyes then locked on you. Oh boy, you hoped she was friendly. "Oh My Goodness! Who is this adorable little peach?!" Oh thank Lucifer, she was a nice demon. "Ah yes! This is another acquaintance of mine! Say hello my dear!" Mimzy glanced at Al when he spoke, then turned back to you with a kind smile. "How ya doin suga~? Did my voice blow you away?" Feeling uncertain, you wondered if she was going to treat you differently if she knew you were a mute. She seemed friendly enough, plus Al said she was a good friend. Slowly you grabbed your phone and typed out what you wanted to say to Mimzy.

𝚈𝚎𝚜! 𝙸 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚣𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎. 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚞𝚝𝚎, 𝚜𝚘 𝙸 𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚍𝚍.

After the voice played, you pointed your eyes to the ground, feeling very shy. Clenching your hands under the table, you worried Mimzy was going to mock you for not speaking. "Oh my satan! Alastor, where did you find this angel? She is simply precious!" Mimzy had grabbed your cheeks, and began to squish them, like what a mother would do to a baby. "She had arrived in Hell a few months ago! She is a shy little one!" Alastor chuckled as he watched Mimzy coo at you. "No apologies needed suga~! Just happy you enjoyed the show! Here, let me give you a VIP pass so you can visit with no problems. Okay, darling?" Mimzy let go of your cheeks, and handed you the card. She had a very motherly side to her, which you liked. Grabbing the card, you nodded your head and smiled. Mimzy smiled and hugged you again. She then departed both of you as she had to meet up with some gents on the other side of the room. Both you and Alastor stayed at the club for a little bit, chatting about certain topics until you realized it had gotten late. Exiting the building, both you and Alastor decided to walk back to the hotel. Could have teleported, but the breeze was nice plus you both needed to stretch your legs after sitting for a long time. Your arm was hooked with Al's as he walked with you. Always such a gentleman. After walking for a couple of minutes, Alastor had stopped in his tracks. "My dear, may I ask you a question?" Alastor turned towards you, as he let your arm go, as he left you to stand in front of him. Staring into his eyes, you looked to see if there was any evidence of anger in them, but you found none. There was a little hint of sadness though, yet Alastor was still smiling. "I noticed during conversations with others, you always apologize! Why is that, my dear?" Tilting his head at you, he waited for your response.

Painful memories from your past began to flash in your mind once Alastor asked that question. Tears started to form, but they were blinked away. Reaching for your phone with trembling hands, you slowly wrote your answer and played it for Al.

𝙳𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚍. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚠 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚢, 𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔, 𝚊 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚍𝚘. 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝. 𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝙸 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚍 ��𝚘 𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚞𝚕𝚝 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝙸 𝚊𝚖, 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚠𝚗.

Tears rolled down your cheeks, as you pointed your head to the ground. Everything you felt from back then began to pour out of you, and you couldn't stop. Alastor was silent in front of you, and you figured he was upset with you, but before you could type a response, you were caught off when you felt someone wrap their arms around you. You found your head being placed in the crook of his neck, as he held you tightly. HE WAS HUGGING YOU?!? The last months while staying at the hotel, you were able to find out that Alastor didn't liked being touch. Yes, he would touch you and the others, but it mostly involved an arm hook, slight shoulder hug or head pat. You never expected that Al would be hugging you like this. After a few seconds, he began to speak. "I am truly sorry you had to suffer through that, my dear! But let me tell you this, people who mock and taunt others for being odd or a little strange are the ẗ̸̝́r̴̦̒u̵̦̅ē̴̢ ̶̰̈́s̴̱̈c̷̪͒ù̶̧m̶͇͐ ̸͎̔ò̴̦f̸͔̈́ ̶̦̃t̶͈̽h̶̟͌ȩ̴̾ ̴̯̀è̴͍a̴̞͝r̸͙̊t̸̰̕h̸̤̉! They are the true monsters! Don't believe their heinous words! To me, you are the sweetest and most unique demon in all of the seven rings! Never apologize for being the way you are ever again!" His words made you cry even more. Moving your hands slowly, you placed them on his back, tightening the hug. You felt the slight flinch from his body when you did that, but he slowly relaxed and squeezed you tighter.

The hug lasted for a bit before Al slowly released you, snapping his fingers to have a handkerchief appear in his hands, as he wiped your tears away. Once he finished, he leaned down and placed his hands on the sides of your mouth, moving them up to make it appear you were smiling. "Come on, my dear! Smile!" The smile on his face was outstretched, revealing all of his sharp teeth. His antics never ceased to make you laugh. Looking at him, you gave him a great big smile. Chuckling, Al leaned back up and grabbed your arm again, continuing his walk back to the hotel. After about a few minutes of walking, you both stopped in your tracks as an unknown voice called out to the both of you. "Well well well, if it isn't the Radio Demon."

*(TO BE CONTINUED)*

Part 1 of the Story is Here

Part 3 of the story is Here

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wwinterwitch · 5 months

Text

cowboy like me — coriolanus snow

summary: it takes one to know one. you and him were exactly alike, which explains why you were inevitably drawn to each other

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 2k

tags: you can't fix him you're as awful as him, being delusional together, fluff??? (not really but u guys are in love and happy and married), mentions of/implied murder and being bad people, romanticizing everything

notes: idk where i was going with this i just had this idea in my head and taylor inspired me to write it. i'm also absolutely feral for young!snow it's not even funny at this point, i needed to find ways to cope lmao

i'd really appreciate a comment or reblog if you enjoy my work.

masterlists | read on ao3

A smile appears on your face the second you feel a hand on your lower back, turning around to meet your husband's loving gaze.

He stands directly in front of you, staring down at you in a way that to this day makes you feel butterflies in your stomach, like you're nothing but a teenage girl who's unlucky enough to have developed a blinding crush on a guy too charming for his own good— the thought of it makes you feel almost nostalgic, looking back at the early stages of your relationship.

Coriolanus Snow has always been a familiar face. Growing up together, you two have known each other for ages. You might've interacted a few times, but nothing beyond brief conversations between classmates.

You had a boyfriend at the time. A much too sweet and caring guy that made the big mistake of falling irrevocably in love with you. In all fairness, it was hard for him not to trail behind you like a lost puppy all the time when you were so good at making foolish boys believe you were the girl of their dreams.

Love is not a word you would use to describe your relationship. He was tolerable and clearly obsessed with you, so it made sense for you to stay with him. He learned with time that buying you very expensive gifts would get you to pay more attention to him, so that became his way of showing his affection for you.

In his mind this was perfectly reasonable. His girl likes being spoiled, so that's exactly what he did. The adoration for you blinded him enough to ignore the truth: you're just sticking around for the money. Some people warned him you were bad news, but you always managed to find a way to make him worship you all over again. Maybe you could've felt sorry for him at some point...if only he didn't have such good taste to pick things out for you.

But then Coriolanus happened. You started to notice him more and more until you inevitably started having feelings for him. How could you not fall for a guy like him? Especially after he started his quick ascend as one of the best Game makers in history.

Maybe it was the way he so fervently claimed his interest in you, willing to pursue you even when your boyfriend was still in the picture. Or perhaps it had to do with his growing popularity and power. After all, you can't deny how attracted you are to guys with ambition.

And Coriolanus is not exactly sure what made him fall for you either. There's many things he loves about you, that's for sure, but he can't say which came first. Was it your captivating beauty and intelligence, or the news that you recently became the only heir to one of the wealthiest families in the Capitol?

Whatever force pulled the two of you together, it really doesn't matter at this point. What matters is that he loves you with every fiber of his being, willing to do whatever is in his power to make sure you're happy (and what isn't, he'll do anything to get). And you love him too, of course, offering him a companionship he always craved— undying fidelity, the purest honesty and understanding.

You've never once judged him for being who he is. If anything, you seem to admire his strength to do whatever it takes to secure his place in society. No one has ever been this loving and accepting, almost encouraging him to be as determined as ever to get the two of you on top.

Whatever he did or didn't do is already in the past. Why should the past matter? Shouldn't you enjoy the present with your loving and successful husband? Be proud of the work the two of you have done to get where you are?

No, the past is gone. It already happened. There’s no need to look back at things you can't change and decisions you can't take back. It all brought you here. Every tiny little decision led the two of you to this moment; married, in love, happy, powerful. It was meant to be like this.

He didn't seem to mind about your own past either. Any other person would've judged you for the difficult decisions you had to make in order to become the wealthiest woman in all of Panem. You've seen it in the face of ex friends and lovers. They never understood your hunger for what you so rightfully deserve.

Good things don't happen to people because they're good. They happen because you make them happen. You fight, you take, you conquer. It's what life is, and it's something you and Coriolanus understand perfectly. That's why the two of you make sense. Why it feels so right to be together. You understand him and he understands you— understands you like no one else has in your entire life.

It was him the one who held you that night when you just couldn't hold it in anymore, and he sat with you while you cried and cried about your beloved sister, because even after all those years you still missed her and wished things could've been different.

If only your parents made it easier for you. They shouldn't have played favorites from the moment you were born. And they really shouldn't mess with something as important as inheritance. It's your goddamn birthright! How could they be so cruel to you? If they corner you against the wall with no apparent way to escape, it was a matter of time before you decided to stand your ground.

It's a shame your poor sister had to suffer the consequences, though. You really do love her...

Coriolanus couldn't judge you even if he tried. He could see himself in your tear-filled eyes and hear his own inconsolable sobs through your voice. It took him back to a particularly difficult point in his life where he had to make a similar choice.

He pours his heart out to you as he holds you tight against his body, revealing all the unfortunate things he was forced to do because it's all that was left. An act-or-die situation that kept repeating itself until he had no other choice but to do the unspeakable. What else was he supposed to do? What else were you supposed to do?

The regret in his voice is evident, and you know he does regret it because he’s a good person with a heart of gold. One of the best people you’ve ever met in your life. He’s good, and brave, and passionate…enough to sacrifice what he loves if the circumstances require that of him. Not many people have the privilege to claim to be as great as him.

"You did what you had to," your voice came out in a soft whisper, still affected by your sudden outburst with the thought of your sister engraved deep inside your brain. At the time you thought you were trying to ease his conscience, but maybe your statement was falling from your lips in a weak attempt to ease your own inner conflict too. "Life has been so unfair to us, Coriolanus. Is it too bad that we want just a little bit of peace?"

He stays quiet for a bit, stroking your hair in hopes to bring you some comfort as he processes your hopeless, pain-filled statement. That's probably the hardest thing about loving you; caring so much that he cannot possibly function if he knows you're hurting, and cursing himself for not being able to take that pain away.

"We'll have peace," he eventually assures you. His voice is soft, yet fiercely determined. There's no room for discussion. He'll make it happen for the two of you. What's a few more difficult choices when he's so far gone now? When he knows it has worked perfectly before and it made all his dreams come true?

In that moment, snuggled up to his chest with his arms tightly wrapped around you, it was clear. That sense of familiarity you only get when you look back in the mirror, or when you quickly scan a room when someone speaks your name. He has suffered as much as you. He knows what it's like to be mistreated in life, and how difficult it is sometimes to live with the fact that you had to leave people behind to finally taste a drop of happiness.

The guilt comes and goes. Sometimes it's easier to remember you had no choice, but other times all you can think about is what life could've been if you weren't forced to take such drastic measures. Perhaps now that you have someone who truly understands, you'll learn to always remember you deserve all you managed to achieve.

When you move back from him to look up into his welcoming and comforting blue eyes, you knew you'd never be alone again. You'll never get to experience this free-fall, soul-consuming feeling with anyone else. And why would you even want to waste your time like that, when you already found the one person who sees the world exactly like you do?

A love like this is hard to find. Most people spend a lifetime trying to find a love decent enough to make them feel like they're losing their minds. Like the air is missing from their lungs and everything looks much darker when the other is not around. Like they're willing to do anything to make the other happy. Like the fear of being consumed entirely by it is the sweetest of fates.

You thought you could only experience affection in the form of luxurious jewelry, fancy clothing and all that came with the important status your ex boyfriend provided. At one point, you could say you almost needed him. Or least needed his money. He provided a safety net you desperately needed after your stupid parents decided to leave everything to your annoyingly perfect sister.

After becoming the only heir in your family (it really is a shame that your sister was gone so soon, poor thing), your boyfriend was no longer a necessity, but a way of distracting yourself when you needed it. It's not like you're going to refuse his gifts and attention anytime soon, right?

But that was it. The furthest it can get to what being in love should look like. And that was what your relationship with Coriolanus should have been when you decided to make your way into his heart. Never in a million years would you have expected to meet a soul that matches yours in even the tiniest of details, that loves so deeply and cares enough to act like it's required to survive.

With his arms still surrounding your body in a protective and comforting manner, you knew he’d be the guy you’d spend the rest of your life with. You knew it long before the day he got down on one knee, professing his undying love for you and offering the most beautiful engagement ring you have ever seen in your life. You pledged to always be there for him and, in return, he vowed to give you the world— he'd find a way to reach the night sky and collect every single star for you if that's what you ask of him. You kept each other's deepest secrets like they were your own. Two smart and ambitious people joining together in their search for greatness.

The hand on your lower back now rests against your cheek, tracing your skin in such a delicate manner that it almost makes you shiver. The white rose attached to his impeccable burgundy suit is slightly tilted to the right, fixing it with your hands as soon as your eyes notice that detail.

He smiles wider after your gesture, leaning down to capture your lips in an affectionate kiss to show his gratitude. You wish the moment could last longer, but you know it's impossible to stay behind these walls for longer when there's a loud crowd out there chanting your husband's name.

There's the briefest of interactions when he breaks the kiss, the two of you standing in front of each other with a smile of pure conspiracy— a silent recognition of the work individually done to get here, an unspoken ��thank you’ to one another for the team effort, and the promise of a never-ending companionship that would only take you higher.

He grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours before finally stepping outside to the marble balcony. Before you, a sea of people cheer and welcome the new President and First Lady of Panem.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes

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shyhaya · 15 days

Note

Hii! Can i plzzzplz request hcs/ or scenario of Barou,Rin, Kunigami and isagi liking the manager of their schools soccer team :DD???

Hi darling, here's your request! please forgive me for taking so long

──────♡──────

Oh Wait, Am I In Love? [Barou Shoei, Itoshi Rin, Kunigami Rensuke & Isagi Yoichi x GN! Reader / SFW]

❯── Barou ──❮

What an interesting situation.

I don't think he would notice his own feelings towards you until he's in too deep.

His teammates certainly noticed before him but they were all scared of telling him anything.

Nevertheless, maybe he heard them talking about his 'soft' if we can call it that attitude towards you.

He did treat you like a peasant, like everyone else, but he actually listened to you when you talked.

Plus, you got to be around him and even tease him sometimes and not even once he reacted brashly towards you!

Everyone in the team is shocked.

When he finally realizes this fact, his entire view of you changed slightly.

Now he understood why he tolerated your presence and even liked to hang out with you.

He was a bit clueless on how to approach you on this topic, but he's driven by the thought of possibly having even more of your attention.

Congratulations! You've been promoted from useful peasant to the King's consort! :3

──────♡──────

❯── Rin ──❮

This one's tough.

Rin can be dense sometimes, but he was the first one to realize he fancied you.

It wasn't even obvious to anybody else, but he noticed the slight changes. How he found you attractive and not a lukewarm like the others.

He liked your advice and actually followed it, and your presence always helped him concentrate or not during practice and even real games.

But what is Rin Itoshi if not a stubborn brat?

He wouldn't tell you about his feelings right away.

If someone notices his almost kind attitude towards you he would deny it or just say it isn't anyone's business.

Soon though, he gets jealous of the rest of team because they're all nice and close to you.

This would be enough for the dam he built to contain his feelings to break.

He had a feeling you liked him too, so there's no way he's letting you go.

Good luck.

──────♡──────

❯── Kunigami ──❮

Oh, Rensuke baby, love, honey- I'll stop now.

He's clueless at first.

You're really nice to everyone, so he naturally gets along with you.

He doesn't find different how he's soon hanging out with you often he's like a big puppy!

During practice he's focused and still can't help but to glance at your direction, finding you adorable as you watch the practice match and how your eyes sparkle as they meet his.

Every time someone from the team mentions you, he immediately perks up.

His teammates realize this and they are the ones who make him realize.. he did like you, but in a whole different way than the rest of them did.

After that he gets a bit flustered every time you're close or when you get worried if he gets hurt during a game or practice.

He's an honest guy though, so he would tell you. No beating around the bush.

He's hopeful that you'll accept him, and can't wait to have you his own I accept my love, I'll even marry you if you want-

──────♡──────

❯── Isagi ──❮

Man, he realized his feelings for you fast.

He was kinda clueless at first, but after analyzing your interactions and how he couldn't help but to admire you, he accepted he was smitten.

He's the one who's all flustered when you're being your usual kind self and asking him if he's alright.

Stutters a bit more and is distracted by how pretty you are.

It's adorable how he tries to act normal but he's also trying to compliment you and maybe give you some clues about how he feels.

All of his teammates notice this and soon they're all teasing him every time they see him looking at you during practice.

He wants to test the waters first, figure out if you like him before he confesses.

If he notices even a slight chance of you liking him back, then he will take the chance. It's what s striker does anyway.

He's so sweet when he actually tells you.

Please say yes, this guy spent all night thinking of all the possible scenarios of how his confesión would go.

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taexual · 3 months

Text

sleepwalking ● 19 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, ANGST & FLUFF (i mean it, watch out), SLOW BURN

words: 14.5k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 19 ► so dig two graves, ‘cause when you die, i swear i’ll be leaving by your side

When the tour bus arrived in Glasgow, you realised that you had slept perhaps a quarter of an hour in total tonight. Discomfort and Regret had become unwelcome companions that kept you up.

Last night, you had planned to talk to Jungkook, but he flipped the script and did all the talking instead. And if you had to describe your choices from then on, you’d have to accept that, essentially, you had run away without saying anything.

You realised now, through tossing and turning in your bunk the whole bus journey, that this was your recurring pattern.

When you and Jungkook first broke up, you’d barricaded yourself in your apartment and only ventured outside when it was unavoidable, like to go to work. Or when your friends forced you out of bed. They tolerated your need for silence in moderation—a few days of self-imposed isolation were okay. But two consecutive weeks was a little excessive.

In Stockholm, the impulse to run away had gripped you right after your conversation on the bridge sank abruptly in the waters below. In Oslo, you had actually run away after you’d almost kissed. You could still feel the shivers on your skin from the cold night air on the rooftop terrace. And, of course, you’d also planned to avoid him when you arrived in Manchester.

It was a pattern that was doomed to end in failure every time, yet you stubbornly refused to give it up.

You wanted to escape the feelings that frightened you, but they only ran faster. They chased after you like daunting shadows. They caught up with you. They engulfed you.

This perpetual cycle wasn’t just futile, it was also unfair—to you and to Jungkook. And to Rated Riot, too.

It had gone on for too long.

You were determined to redeem that today.

While Jungkook and the boys were doing an interview on a local radio station after the soundcheck, you chose to stay at the venue to work. Initially, you only intended to answer internal company emails and update the label executives, but unsurprisingly, that morphed into more tasks that needed your immediate attention.

Seated at your laptop in the band’s dressing room, you spent a good couple of hours finalising Rated Riot’s schedule for the rest of the week, emailing back journalists and verifying their credentials before issuing backstage passes for upcoming interviews, and humming along to a tune playing in your headphones.

It was then—during the chorus of an old Bad Omens song that was loud and messy enough to keep your mind alert and focused—that Seokjin decided to tap you on the back.

You jumped up as high as it was humanly possible and pushed your laptop away as if to protect it from intruders—which was what your mind assumed Seokjin to be, apparently. He took a step back, shocked and very entertained by your violent startle.

“Shit, sorry,” he said, attempting to suppress a smile. “You’ve been—you’ve been working here by yourself for hours. I’m taking a coffee break. Want to join me?”

With one hand pressed to your chest, you slid your headphones off and checked the time on the corner of your laptop screen. “Uh, sure. Coffee sounds nice.”

The two of you found a quaint café a few blocks from Barrowland where Rated Riot would be playing later that evening. But despite the cosy setting, you chose to grab your coffee to-go. It was a warm, sunny day outside. Seokjin thought you could use some fresh air.

“So,” he said eagerly, as soon as the café bell tinkled, announcing your exit, “what’s on your mind?”

You met his question with surprise. “What do you mean?”

He maintained an air of nonchalance, sipping his Americano and observing casually, “your pupils are massive. You look like you’re planning a revolution. Or a massacre.”

You took a sip of your drink and regretted not stirring the caramel in better. You wondered what it would be by the end of tonight: revolution or massacre.

“I was—well, it’s nothing much,” you said. “I was just thinking that things might be different when we got home.”

“How so?”

The two of you crossed the street towards a small, vibrant green space—not quite a park—with a tree-lined pathway in the middle and an old blue police box nearby, reminiscent of Doctor Who.

“Well,” you said, “I hear Brazil is really nice that time of year.”

“You’re thinking of going on holiday?” Seokjin asked, surprised. He’s known you since you joined the company, even before you started to manage Rated Riot, and he was well aware of your lack of holidays. The HR department, however, remained blissfully ignorant about it.

You shrugged. “For starters.”

“And then?”

“And then we’ll see.”

The ambiguity in your response wasn’t worrying in itself, but combined with your reluctance to meet his gaze and the intense concentration on your coffee—even though you winced every time you took a sip—it was certainly alarming.

“You’re not… going to quit, are you?” he asked hesitantly. “I’ve heard about Reconnaissance.”

Of course, he’d heard. At this point, enough people knew about it for the news to have a ripple effect and circulate backstage.

“No,” you said, trying to dispel the tension with an airy laugh. “Of course not.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

“I’d find a replacement first.”

Seokjin’s casual stride came to an abrupt halt. A few steps ahead, you realised he’d stopped and turned around.

“No,” he said.

His firm declaration made you stutter. “Th-that—that wasn’t a question.”

“And that’s not an option,” he argued. “You can’t quit.”

“I’m not saying I’m leaving for sure. I’m just saying that if I did leave, you wouldn’t even notice the difference,” you said. “I’m a very good teacher.”

With that, you started to walk away, leaving him little choice but to catch up.

“And I love all of you guys,” you continued while Seokjin grunted next to you. “I wouldn’t leave you with someone I didn’t personally trust to take care of you and the band.”

He shook his head, his determination unwavering. If he had known about the band members’ conviction that no one would blame you if you left Rated Riot due to the alluring offer from Reconnaissance, Seokjin might have been tempted to express his disagreement with his fists.

Of course, people would blame you—Seokjin was the people in question.

You belonged here. You were an essential part of the team.

He was convinced of this, and he was going to be annoying about it.

“Okay, I appreciate that,” he said, his tone tinged with incredulity. “Except, what the fuck are you thinking? Of course, we’d notice the difference! You’re you. We love you.”

“That means a lot—”

“But not enough?”

You hesitated, caught off guard by the intensity of his anger. “No, it’s—”

“Alright, look.” He stopped walking again, the paper cup of coffee in his hand more of an accessory than a beverage. “Is this about Jungkook?”

An unexpected heat surged through you and a cascade of excuses immediately raced through your mind. You scanned the pathway, reading the names of the bands imprinted into the pavement with colourful stripes—artists who’d performed at Barrowland before, you assumed—so you wouldn’t have to look at him.

But this was Seokjin. If there was anyone who knew everything that was going on in the band, it was him. You didn’t want to give him pretend reasons.

“In part,” you admitted.

“Well, if that’s the case, then it’s an even more definite no,” he asserted, his resolve unyielding.

You sighed and attempted to smile, but there was a hint of awkwardness in your expression. “I’m not taking votes, Jin. I’ll talk to Jungkook about this, and—”

“You can talk to anyone you like. All the gods you can find, even,” he interrupted. “But you’re not leaving.”

“Jin—”

“Look, when you accepted this job, the fact that you and Jungkook used to know each other didn’t matter,” he stated, tactfully omitting the word ‘relationship’—a nuance you appreciated. “What difference does it make now?”

As you bit your lip and lowered your eyes, Seokjin sensed that there was a difference, after all. It occurred to him that perhaps he wasn’t entirely up to speed on everything that was happening on the tour, after all.

“Okay, you don’t want to talk about it, and I’m not asking you to,” he said, his words gentle, but his tone strict. “What I’m saying is that nobody cares. You can date, you can break up, you can—I don’t know. You can pretty much do anything as long as you don’t kill each other. No one cares.”

“The label cares,” you blurted, the words unpolished and agitated. “I care.”

He waved his free hand dismissively. “The label cares about profit. We’re making a profit from you both. Maybe even more when you’re together because you’re both less annoying that way.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “How are we annoying?”

“Are you kidding? All mopey and sulky?” He stuck his tongue out and pretended to gag. “You make me sick and miserable.”

You snickered softly at the dramatic display. “Fair. Sorry. But fact is, it’s still a good opportunity.”

“Well, sure,” he conceded. “But is that really the reason you want to leave? Or is it because you think that what you’re doing with Jungkook is wrong? You think others will disapprove or think less of you. You think this is highly unprofessional, and it would make more sense to work elsewhere.”

It felt oddly incongruous to hear him articulate—so easily, without a moment’s hesitation—everything that you had been thinking.

“Well, that’s a factor, too, of course…” you said, your voice faltering.

“I think that’s the main factor.”

Taking a sip of your coffee, you mumbled, “I think you think too much.”

“I think you don’t think enough,” he countered. “You can’t leave, not even for Reconnaissance. You’re part of the team, our team. We all are.”

You looked at him, and he raised his eyebrows expectantly—waiting, clearly, for you to admit defeat.

While you didn’t technically need his consent to quit, the sheer determination in his stance made you feel as though his approval was, indeed, a prerequisite for anyone choosing to leave.

“Now you’re making me feel guilty,” you said.

“As you should!” he said—nearly bellowing in his frustration. “But you should feel guilty about mistakenly thinking that you should leave. Not about being in love with him.”

His words struck a deep chord and your heart began to rattle violently in your chest. “I’m—right. Yeah. I need to talk to him about—about everything.”

His tone softened at your reaction.

“I think you should sit down for ten minutes and gather your thoughts before you do that,” he advised. “You should sit and accept that we don’t care if you go out with Jungkook. Whatever you decide, we’re all cool with it. As long as you are, too.”

Afraid that your eyes would betray your thoughts, you shifted your gaze to the silver barks of the graceful birch trees around you. “Do you know about the bet?”

Seokjin took a slow sip of his coffee to allow more time between these overlapping conversations.

“Yeah,” he said. “Is that... uh, have you two worked it out?”

“We’ve—I think we have. I think the bet wasn’t even the main issue, actually, it just—it sort of highlighted all our problems,” you admitted. “We—we’ll have to work through the rest.”

“Right. Okay,” he said. The sun rolled out from behind the buildings, casting a golden glow on the trees and the empty path ahead of you. He squinted and took a sip of his coffee before speaking. “Well, then I can safely tell you that everyone backstage knows about it.”

The disappointment on your face was absolute. “Oh. That—that’s lovely.”

He smiled sympathetically as the two of you continued down the faintly coloured path. Despite the sunshine, the cool breeze toyed relentlessly with the edges of your jackets.

“Don’t worry about it too much, though,” he said. “It’s nothing more than a silly joke backstage. We’re not judging either of you.”

You did worry about it. “What… do you mean by ‘silly joke,’ exactly?”

The two of you arrived at a large sycamore tree with leaves that glimmered in emerald hues under the sun, and Seokjin stopped, grateful for the shade.

“One of the roadies started it,” he explained. “It was just a game. A bet, actually! Funny.” He chuckled at the irony, but stopped himself when he noticed your stoic expression. “Anyway. Someone suggested that Jungkook’s friends were trying to sabotage your relationship by making this bet with him. So, we bet on Jungkook fighting his friends for you. Which—that cost me money, actually. When he showed up at the airport in Cologne with a black eye, I lost fifty euros.”

It took you a minute to process this, and you felt so uncomfortable that your fists itched with an urge to fight someone, too.

“You—so, you bet that he wouldn’t fight his friends?” you clarified, almost hopeful.

“No. I bet that he would,” he said. “But I got too big-headed and bragged about how he wouldn’t miss a single punch. So, everyone claimed that I lost and took my money. Really, I thought he knew how to fight. And he was doing it for a noble cause.” A dramatic pause ensued, and then Seokjin smirked. “I mean you, by the way.”

“No, yeah, I got that,” you said bitterly. “But you didn’t even know the actual—everyone just assumed he had a black eye because of me?”

He pulled his lips together to stifle a chuckle as he moved his cup of coffee away.

“Can you blame us?” he asked with a leisurely shrug. “He’s in love with you, and his friends are complete idiots. And then he shows up with a black eye! The dots connected themselves. Although, personally, I thought Luna or Maggie could have socked him in the eye, too. You three are very protective of each other.”

You tilted your head, your posture a warning. “I see. So, we’re a telenovela to you. Did you bet that I would knock someone out if I found out what you were up to?”

“Not yet,” he said, clearly delighted by the prospect of this happening in the future.

“Did you get your money back at least?”

“Yeah. But then I lost it again.”

The leaves of the sycamore tree rustled impatiently as you groaned. “How?”

“Another bet,” he said. “Some people—including Jimin, by the way—thought that Jungkook’s friends would never come to another Rated Riot show. In the UK specifically. We were very specific about the details in this bet.”

“Right, of course.”

He smirked, unapologetic about the amusement he derived from this. There were all sorts of games happening backstage at any given point in the tour; nearly everything became a joke here. And Seokjin hoped to show you that yes, people did know about you and Jungkook. But unless they could find ways to make it funny, they didn’t care.

He could tell that the more he talked to you about this, the more you started to recognise the absurdity of it all, too.

“Right. Well, Jimin won that round. I actually—I thought Jungkook would change his mind and bring his friends back,” Seokjin confessed. “Serves me right. I should have trusted him more.”

You raised your cup in his direction.

“Yeah,” you said. “Serves you right for making bets about this. He blacklisted Sid.”

“He—oh!” Seokjin seemed very pleased to hear this. “Well, that was worth my money, then.”

“Hmm.”

He grinned, the mischief still lingering in his eyes.

“We have another bet going on,” he said.

“Anoth—well, of course.” Your teeth dug into the coffee lid as you tried to take a sip, but reconsidered. “So, what? Who’s getting a black eye this time?”

“It’s whether you’ll get back together.”

Your irritation wavered in surprise. A rustling stirred inside you as though you had swallowed the wind and carried it within.

“Well,” you said. “Where’d you place your bets?”

“Drink your coffee,” he said. You did. It had cooled and turned unpleasantly sweet as the caramel settled. “I haven’t bet on that yet. But if you told me if you’re considering going back to him, I could win my money back.”

You made sure to swallow before looking up.

“That’s not solely up to me, though,” you said, sensing an obvious defensive undertone in your own voice. You didn’t make much effort to conceal it; he would have read right through you anyway. “A relationship typically involves two people. I can’t force him to be in it.”

Seokjin offered a patient smile.

“Please,” he said. “Everyone knows he’d burn down half of Europe for you.”

You swallowed again.

It was just you. The only one still fighting it.

“Well, in any case—” Seokjin said, distracted, suddenly, by a particularly cheeky pigeon that kept flying up to your ankles, then to your knees. “That bird is going to steal your coffee.”

You glanced down, and the shift in your position frightened the pigeon into flying a few metres away. Seokjin nodded in approval.

“Anyway,” he said. “What I meant to say is that I don’t know how much my opinion is worth, but if the only reason you’re considering quitting is because of this, then that’s nothing. You sit down, you work through your problems, you get back together, and you’re good to go. Well, good to stay. It’s up to you. No one else cares.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Everyone’s talking. They’re making bets about us. We—we’re a joke backstage. And yet you think we should get back together?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Give us something else to bet on.”

Exasperation flashed across your face. “I’m thinking I’d like to sic that pigeon on you a little bit.”

“Oh, but what would you do without me?” He was grinning in a manner so endearing and genuine that you felt your lips stretch into a defeated smile as well. “You know we’re family. That is what we do. And you said it yourself – everyone’s already talking. And no one’s truly bothered by it. You might as well do what you want.”

You took a big gulp of your coffee to finish it.

Some of the humour faded from his eyes while he watched you. He looked around—to make sure the pigeon hadn’t returned and to gather his thoughts.

“Just think about it, okay?” he said. “You know how they say ‘measure twice, cut once’? Why don’t you measure three times? Four, even. Five. Or, I don’t know, as many times as it takes until you realise that there’s no need to cut anything. Everything’s great as it is.”

Your face felt warm. “That’s very profound.”

“It is.” He nodded, his exaggerated confidence faltering a little when he saw the gratitude in your eyes and suddenly found himself timid. “I’ve also got a few carpentry jokes if you’re in the mood for those.”

Laughing finally, you shook your head. “Maybe later. But thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. “And notice how I’m not saying ‘anytime’? Because there can’t be another time that this happens. In fact, the next time I see you, it’ll be as if we never had this conversation.”

Still smiling despite his threatening tone, you put your palm to your forehead and extended your fingers in a salute. “Sir, yes, sir.”

He nodded, content with your response.

“Now go back to that café and bring me a scone,” he ordered, his expression bright again. “I got distracted by your misery and forgot to buy one.”

You snorted and nodded—you did owe him a scone, at the very least. Seokjin stepped deeper into the shade by the tree and waited while you jogged back towards the café. He looked up to see your lighthearted expression reflected in the window across the street and felt himself exhale in relief.

He’d done his job—you knew everyone needed you here.

You returned to the venue with enough scones for the whole staff, and as you passed them out, almost everyone on the team regarded you with a mix of curiosity and anticipation. It was a nice change from their earlier concerns about your health, but you still felt uncomfortable.

There was an obvious reason you enjoyed working backstage: here, you successfully evaded the spotlight. You did your work quietly and got to spend time with your friends.

But lately, you’d been feeling everyone’s eyes on you and, naturally, your instinctive reaction was to flee. Really, this had to be inherent; you wondered if your brother shared a similar flight-or-flight-never-fight response when confronted with an uncomfortable situation.

And still, you forced yourself to wait.

Following your conversation with Seokjin, you decided on the key points that you needed to discuss with Jungkook. And they were simple: share your thoughts with him and make a decision together.

You’ve never really tried this with him before; open communication was a recent development for the two of you. But you meant what you told Seokjin: a relationship involved two people. And regardless of what -ship you and Jungkook were currently in, your decisions still influenced his, and his influenced yours.

You had hoped to speak to him after he returned from his interview, but it was almost funny how time worked against you today.

After the band returned, you went to help Jungkook with his bandages, and the company executives decided to respond to your email with a phone call. And so, you were forced to stay on the phone with the label the whole time before Rated Riot went on stage.

That was okay. You figured you would talk to Jungkook later.

But later just wouldn’t come.

After the concert, you waited for the band to finish taking pictures with their fans before you took them to another interview with several more radio hosts. And when you returned to the bus, the curtains on Jungkook’s bunk were drawn. You didn’t want to wake him in case he was asleep.

The only time you finally had direct contact with Jungkook was on the plane to London. He surprised you by approaching you from behind and casually lifting your carry-on to the overhead compartment. Then, as though he hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary, he turned around to return to his seat.

“Wait,” you called out. “Can I—can we talk? Yoongi said he’d switch seats with me.”

Jungkook stopped, his stomach sinking. He was the undefeated champion of misinterpreting situations—he hadn’t forgotten how your conversation had ended last night, but he still thought this was about Sid.

Because while you were beating yourself up about your avoidant tendencies, Jungkook was grappling with a different problem.

Since this morning, he had been bombarded with incessant text messages from an unknown number that ranged from vaguely bothersome (“UR SO DUMB LMSAO”) to genuinely threatening (“DNOT THINK THS IS OVER YOU FUCKVING CUNT”). All texts contained a certain distinctiveness: full capitalisation, typos, and a disturbing scent of wounded ego.

It was Sid, Jungkook was absolutely sure of it.

He seemed to be in a white powder induced frenzy, which wasn’t particularly unusual—Jungkook didn’t think he could remember the last time Sid had been completely sober—but the frequency of the texts was a little unsettling. Jungkook thought the bet was over now, even if Sid wasn’t satisfied. But clearly, Sid was craving something more.

Jungkook wasn’t sure how you would know about this or why you would bring it up now, but he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket again, and he thought this had to be the reason why.

“Sure,” he said, trying to mask his apprehension. He turned on airplane mode on his phone and looked up. “What’s, uh—what’s going on?”

You gestured at his seat. He sat down with bated breath—as if his life was about to change and he needed to brace for it—and waited for you to settle beside him.

“I wanted to, uh, explain myself,” you began as the plane filled. The rhythmic sound of people shuffling across the aisle was oddly soothing. Jungkook, however, appeared perplexed. “And to thank you, actually. For being there when I—well, when all of that happened. I’m sorry I caused—”

“You’ve already thanked me,” he interjected. “And you better not tell me that you’re apologising for fainting right now.”

“I’m—well, I’m just saying, you were right,” you said, disheartened by the disbelief in his eyes. You placed your water bottle on the fold-out tray and shifted in your seat. “I should have known better. Rested more. I guess what I’m saying is that I’m sorry I didn’t listen, and it all led to... that.”

He sighed. This wasn’t about Sid; this was about something worse.

“That’s who you are, though,” he said. He should have known this would be something you would blame yourself for once you recovered. “You always have to get everything done, or you—you can’t sleep. You need to, uh, work on that, but you don’t need to apologise for it.”

You looked down, tracing a shaky finger over the armrest between your seats.

“And,” he added before you could speak, “to be fair, a lot of things that happened on tour were actually out of your control. You had no choice but to put in extra time and effort, I guess. The stage constructions collapsed, the venue was flooded—”

“Right, but these—well, anyway,” you cut yourself off, reverting to your original train of thought. “I’m sorry you had to drop everything a-and worry about me. Well, not just you; the whole thing ended up being a big scene that disrupted everyone. But I—I wanted to say this to you, first of all.”

He observed you for a long moment. Between the truce you’ve decided on in your hotel room, the conversation he’d overheard about your meeting with Nick, and the disturbing messages from an unknown number, Jungkook was having a hard time comprehending what he’d done to warrant an apology from you right now.

Then, a troubling thought occurred to him: what if this was your way of saying goodbye?

He had let you go last night. What if you had decided to leave, and this was the prelude to the end of your time together?

“I’m—I didn’t have to do it,” he said. “I did it because I—well, I mean, you were passed out. Of course, I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He leaned forward in his seat. “It kind of sounds like you’re forgetting that you’re not just the manager here. You’re also my—uh, y-you’re our friend. We all would have acted the same way if it had been anyone else. It’s an ‘all for one, and one for all’ situation with us. You know that.”

He was right; your team had grown so close that none of you would have hesitated to help each other. Your unease simply stemmed from the fact that you were the one receiving help this time.

You swallowed. You thought you owed him an explanation about everything, but you haven’t even really gotten to it yet.

“Thank you,” you said. “For what you said and—and for what you did. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

He gave you a hesitant smile. “Was I really so terrible at taking care of you that it made you change your workaholic ways?”

You raised your eyebrows, surprised by the gentle teasing in his words.

“No, you di—you were great. Except for the fact that you didn’t need to do that,” you said, shooting him a look that he promptly rolled his eyes at. You added, “I say that with gratitude, of course. But, um, I felt very uncomfortable just lying there while everyone else—well, can’t let that happen again. Anyway, this isn’t—”

“I hope it won’t happen again,” he interrupted. “But it’s—well, you’ve spent your whole life taking care of... everything. Your brother, your mum, uh, e-even me. It’s second nature to you, I don’t know how else to—you can’t help but actively try to fix things. So, I-I don’t mind being the person who reminds you to take it easy sometimes. I just want you to listen.”

He’d said something very similar to you last night and you dug your teeth into your lower lip so you wouldn’t argue.

You thought you weren’t doing a very good job of fixing things—nevermind that you’ve subconsciously turned absolutely everything around you into your personal responsibility, and it was simply unrealistic to take care of it all.

“Thank you,” you chose to say. “I just, um—I don’t want you to think I’m talking to you so you’d make me feel better. You don’t need to do that. And it’s my turn to expla—”

He whipped his head to look at you so suddenly—an almost offended expression on his face—that the rest of your sentence got caught in your throat.

“Wh—why do you always think that?” he asked. “That I do something for you because I feel like I have to?”

“I don’t—I know you’re not—ah.” Leaning back in your seat, you attempted to rearrange your thoughts as if you were shuffling stubborn cards in a deck—trying to find the one you needed to win a game against yourself. “That’s not even the main thing I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Okay,” he said, a little worried. “What is the main thing?”

It took you a moment to find your breath.

“The conversation that we had last night—well, not just last night, actually, it’s been happening for a while. But, uh, last night specifically—it wasn’t supposed to end like that,” you said. He lowered his eyes. “That’s what I wanted to, um—to bring up. Because we’re not talking again, you know? I mean—okay. That’s not true. You are talking. But I’m not. I-I think it’s still new to me that we’re—that we’re actually talking about things. About everything. I’m sorry I haven’t said much to you in return.”

You exhaled when you finished speaking—finished stammering, really—but you didn’t feel relieved. There was a lot more you had to say.

Jungkook, on the other hand, felt his thoughts drift back to Amsterdam once again, when he had entered your hotel room to apologise, and you told him you forgave him and apologised in return. He remembered the pained, laboured beating of his heart as he listened to you—thinking, all the while, that he had no right to want you all for himself.

Now, he had some additional time to think about how to respond, because the flight attendant started the safety demonstration at the front of the plane, preparing for take-off.

He fastened his seatbelt, relieved by the silence on his phone—but the quiet pause between you as the plane lifted off the runway felt very loud in his head.

“You know,” he said after a few minutes, “you find the weirdest things to feel guilty about.”

You furrowed your brows while Jungkook idly twirled the onyx signet ring on his index finger.

“You’re never obligated to respond to what I tell you,” he said. “I didn’t say any of those things to you in Manchester in exchange for your immediate forgiveness, or for some similar stories, or for—anything, really. You don’t owe me anything. I just wanted to tell you everything, and that’s it.”

“I-I get that,” you shifted in your seat, restricted by the seatbelt, “but I’m your manager. And I-I left you in a confusing, stressful situation by yourself when I refused to talk to you right away. That was—it was unprofessional at best, and cruel at—”

“You’re more than that to me, though,” he cut in. You gripped the armrest tighter. “You know that. And you didn’t… leave me in that situation as my manager. You left me there as my ex-girlfriend. You have that right. You were confused and stressed, too.”

Your gaze slid over his black and grey flannel and the t-shirt with a Rated Riot logo underneath. The plane cruised at the designated altitude, but you still felt pushed into your seat like you had during take-off.

“I don’t—I’m not sure those two roles can be separated any longer,” you admitted.

Oh, whispered an alarmed pang of his heart. And, oh? echoed the multitude of shivers rippling underneath his skin.

“What are you saying?” he asked.

You drew in a breath. You didn’t want to start from the beginning because you had a feeling that he might not let you get to the end, so you decided to start from the explanation—the one that you’d come here to give him, but kept getting sidetracked as he responded to you in ways you weren’t anticipating.

“People on tour,” you began, “are very invested in our, uh—situation.”

Jungkook arched an eyebrow. “They’re invested?”

“Apparently, we’re a popular topic backstage.”

Quickly enough, he thought he figured out your implication: if he hadn’t played along with Sid, the staff on this tour might have been having very different conversations.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“No, that’s not—well, it’s not just your fault,” you replied. “It takes two, right?”

“Right, but I was the one who made the bet.”

“You—okay. But this isn’t about the bet—” you paused. Reconsidered. “Well, alright, the bet sort of kick-started a lot of things, but it’s not—that’s not the problem from my point of view right now.”

Oh, once more. And then, ah.

You were talking, he realised, about the things you didn’t want to talk about in your hotel room in Manchester. The things you’ve affectionately labelled as “a confusing, stressful situation.” The things you were supposed to discuss later, when the time was right. Except he had succumbed to the terminal case of nothing-matters-anymore-if-you’re-leaving-the-band and got drunk instead.

“Okay,” he said. “That’s… fine with me.”

“Alright,” you said. “So, here’s our problem: I’m your manager.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows and pulled his chin back.

“If that’s our only problem,” he said, “we are very lucky people.”

A brief smile flickered on your face.

“It’s our biggest problem,” you clarified. “But we definitely are lucky.”

Encouraged by the amusement in your eyes, he grinned. “Because we have each other?”

Your smile grew and even the plane itself seemed to shake a little when his heart rate accelerated at the sight of it.

“Because we can solve this problem,” you said.

His face fell. He thought he could guess where you were going with this.

“How do you mean?” he still asked, his voice a low murmur.

You thought you could have used some of the whiskey that Jungkook had sought out last night.

With a measured breath, you said, “I leave the band, and—”

“Wait,” he cut you off. “Is that supposed to be—”

“Hear me out first—”

“No, listen—if the problem is that you’re my manager,” he said, “then you leaving Rated Riot is not the solution.”

Jungkook sounded a little like Seokjin had earlier—a stark contrast from the way he’d spoken to you last night by the bus.

“Are you suggesting that because people are talking about us backstage?” he pressed.

You turned away. “It’s not just that. I mean, they’re already talking and that’s—well, it’s not great. But we can’t stop the wheel from turning now, or however that saying goes. What we can do, however, is stop it before it gets worse. And by that I mean, you know—we need to decide what the hell we’re doing.”

That was what he wanted, he thought. But now he was confused.

You seemed to want to make a decision about your relationship together. Yet you also seemed to believe that leaving Rated Riot was the best option. He failed to see how both of these things were possible at the same time.

“So, you’ve made up your mind, then?” he asked. “About leaving?”

“That’s what I want to talk to you about,” you said. “I don’t want to leave the band, but—”

“Well, that’s the thing, then,” he said sharply, unfastening his seatbelt. Turning to face you, he stumbled over his own confusion, “I’m—I don’t want to hold you back. I told you. But I thought you—I thought it would be—I thought you wanted to leave. I thought—but you want to stay. So, stay.”

Stay.

It was very simple, really, very concise. But it carried a lot more weight than his words last night when he had caught you off guard. When he had let you go.

You wanted to stay. You just didn’t think you should.

Your response wasn’t particularly verbal. “Hmm.”

“Is it me?” Jungkook asked. “Am I the only reason you’re thinking of leaving?”

He didn’t sound accusatory, even though you were prepared for it. He sounded apologetic instead—almost guilty—and you were completely unprepared for that as a million tiny needles pricked at your heart.

“You’re not the only reason,” you replied. “You’re part of it. And I don’t—look, I-I don’t want to leave. But that sounds reasonable when you look at where we are right now.”

He heard nothing of what you’d said.

“That’s not reasonable in the slightest,” he insisted.

“Jungkook—”

“You have to stay. If you—”

“But if that’s the choice that would make more sense for us,” you interjected, exasperated, “then I don’t mind leaving. If—if we weren’t working together anymore, then maybe we could try to finally figure our shit out.”

Now he heard it.

He had a vague awareness that the other passengers behind you had turned off their screens and removed their headphones, choosing to listen to your conversation instead. But he was too stunned by the look in your eyes to care.

So, that was what you were trying to say: you were prepared to leave Rated Riot to fix your relationship.

He opened his mouth to speak, but it took another minute for coherent words to come to him.

“We can—we can figure our shit out while working together,” he said. “Why do you have to leave?”

“It’s—you have to understand,” you said, “that I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m pretty sure neither do you, but that’s how you usually function.” Jungkook sobered up enough to offer a noncommittal shrug. You continued, “but for me—this is freaking me out. I don’t—I don’t know what’s going to happen and what we should do, and—leaving the band sounds—it seems reasonable. It seems safe. Smart. And that’s what I’m clinging to.”

He swallowed, not trusting himself to move. “But that’s—”

“Please, it’s—this is what I wanted to say to you—what I should have said to you last night.” There was a pleading tone in your voice. He nodded, quiet while you continued. “If I stay with Rated Riot, and we try to solve our problems… there are only two ways that can go, right? We both know as much. Either we get back together, or we don’t.”

Jungkook was mesmerised by how glaringly simple this was, in principle: either you used a label on your relationship, or you didn’t.

He knew he was going to love you either way, but he couldn’t breathe, suddenly, at the thought of this other choice in this dilemma—the choice where you didn’t get back together, and he spent the rest of his life deliberately going crazy, so he could return—at least in his mind—to that day seven years ago when he first met you.

“Well, uh, yeah,” he managed to say. “That’s pretty much the choices that we’ve got.”

You reclined in your seat, lifting your gaze to the light control buttons overhead.

“If we get back together…” you began, exhaling. “Then, we might have to face a lot of problems from the label. But we might be alright in the end. I don’t know.”

Jungkook tightened his jaw. He attempted to formulate a response that would be logical and appropriate in this situation. But really, his head felt too small for his thoughts and his tongue too big for his mouth.

“That’s… that’s good to know,” he eventually said.

“Mhmm,” you replied distractedly. “But see, what if we don’t get back together? Or we do, but it doesn’t work out?”

That was what worried him, too—but for different reasons.

He knew that you were looking at this from a pragmatic perspective. A logical, what-would-make-more-sense perspective.

He didn’t think he’d ever looked at it this way. For him, this was simple: he loved you and wanted to be with you. He didn’t care how inconvenient and illogical it might seem to those around him, and he refused to think about what would happen if this love didn’t work out. It would have to. How could it not?

But he recognised his privileges; he knew he didn’t have as many responsibilities as you did. And, alright, fine, he thought about it—realistically, if you broke up again, he’d probably drink until he turned into a puddle of whiskey, while you’d flee across the globe to get away from it all.

And yet—was that all there was to this? Just rationality and calculated decisions?

Jungkook cleared his throat and asked the question that he believed really mattered here.

“Do you love me?”

Someone on the plane gulped audibly and held their breath. He wondered if it was him.

The colour of your eyes deepened, then blurred. “I-I—that’s—that’s not—”

“Answer me,” he whispered.

You tried, but no words came out. This moment resembled the nightmares that haunted you lately: you opened your mouth to scream, but silence stifled every sound you tried to make.

“T-that’s—” you began and stopped yourself before you could stutter any further. You took a breath. “That’s not important right now—”

“How can it not be—”

“Because I do love you,” you said quickly—the words slurred into one desperate Idoloveyou, a hopeless Idoloveyou, a how-can-you-possibly-expect-me-not-to Idoloveyou. “But I don’t think I should. I don’t think you should, either. We’re a—we’re a fucking mess.”

Visibly frozen, Jungkook found himself thinking that if this was the sixteenth century, and the two of you just happened to have this conversation in some public square, the townsfolk would have surely accused you of witchcraft.

It was uncanny, the way you cast a spell on him with just four words—all four of which he heard with perfect clarity: I do love you. Granted, he wasn’t sure if he heard the rest. He felt like he was already burning in your place.

“Right,” he thought he said. He couldn’t feel his face. “But we’ve always—”

“I’m—I have to—I do owe you,” you said. He watched you, his expression oscillating between mild confusion and outright bewilderment. “You said I don’t, but I do. I could have told you what was going on in my head like you told me. Honestly, all this time, whenever I talked to people, they all told me to speak to you. To talk it out. And I closed up in my head instead. If I don’t talk about it, I don’t have to deal with it. You know?”

He blinked, finally. “That’s—”

“I’ll explain it, though, okay?” you said. “Please?”

You gave him too much power—as if he could ever say no to you. As if he could stop listening. As if every fibre of his being didn’t ache to stay close to you.

Warm—so unbearably warm that it felt like he was in the middle of exploring the landscapes Dante depicted in Inferno—Jungkook wiped off the sweat from his palms on his dark jeans.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, okay.”

“It won’t take long,” you assured. “Really, I don’t even have much to say. I’m fucking scared. That’s all there is to it.”

Jungkook seemed to be practising the lost art of swallowing his tongue. He wanted you to continue and you were biting your lip in a way that suggested that this was not all there was to it. You only wished it was.

You took a trembling breath, and your lungs followed—quivering, it seemed, as they tried to provide you with the oxygen necessary for all that you were about to say.

“I spent the first fifteen years of my life watching my parents break up and get back together again,” you began. “And do you know what I felt every single time they broke up? Actual rage.” You laughed wryly here like this reaction was absurd. “But when they got back together, I was fucking—I was hopeful. I refused to speak to them, of course—I was a teenager—but I was… Inside, just like my mum, I also hoped that this would work. That this time would be the one.”

You swallowed and lapsed into a silence so long and heavy that Jungkook worried you might never speak again.

Fifteen years, he thought. And all this time, he’d assumed that your dad left for the final time when you were twelve. That was already bad enough, of course, but Jungkook hadn’t realised that the back-and-forth between your parents that you’d mentioned back in Tilburg had taken place after that. He hadn’t realised that you and your brother had gone through three years of almost having a father—and your mum through almost having a partner.

“I knew they were a tragedy together,” you continued. Jungkook didn’t know how to raise his eyes to look at you. “It was obvious that it wouldn’t last. I always knew it, and I always said that to my mum. But deep down, I still fucking hoped that they’d get together and it would work.”

You shook your head with a cold, unforgiving smile.

“How fucking stupid,” you concluded. “All hope does is bring misery and disappointment.”

“You were a child,” he said, his brows drawn together—sad and a little scared for your younger self. “You just wanted your parents to be together. You wanted a family.”

“Yeah,” you said with a sigh. Then again, “yeah.”

A minute passed without either of you speaking. Flight attendants crossed the aisles, offering complimentary snacks, but missing you—either by mistake or because there was no one in your seats on the plane. The two of you were somewhere else.

“I think,” you said once the commotion around you quieted, “that I wasn’t just angry at my mum for trying again and again, even though it never worked. Or for never losing hope that maybe they could be happy together. I think I was also angry at myself. Because I never truly lost hope, either.”

Jungkook hung his head, his lips tight in silent contemplation.

“So that’s what I’m afraid of,” you said. “I’m scared that this—us—will turn out to be like that. I’m scared that we’ll let wishful thinking take over, and we’ll get back together even though we shouldn’t. Even though it’s obvious that we won’t last.”

Right away, he wanted to insist that you would defy those odds. That there was nothing obvious about the two of you whatsoever. He wanted to promise all that and more, but it wasn’t right—not after you endured fifteen years of broken promises between two of the most important people in your life.

“You, um—” he started to say and coughed suddenly, caught off guard by his dry throat, “—you told me before that you admired your mum’s courage. F-for trying again.”

You handed him the overpriced airport water bottle that you had bought earlier. Jungkook nodded in gratitude.

“I did,” you confirmed. “And I do admire that about her. But I don’t have any of her courage.” You brought a shaky finger over your forehead, not quite scratching it. “I always say that I don’t believe in second chances, but the truth is, I think I do believe in them. I’m just debilitated by my fear that these second chances might not work out.”

Jungkook lowered the bottle. He’d emptied almost half of it in a single gulp, but an anxious undercurrent inside of him had absorbed it before he could feel any relief.

“Is that, um,” he tried to ask, “is that something you feel in general or—or because it’s us?”

You thought about that for half a second and shook your head.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in a situation where a second chance held so much significance,” you said. “This isn’t a mistake that you can fix. It’s not a human error. It’s you and me. And it’s so—it’s final. There won’t be another chance for us, it’s now or never. And what if it’s never?”

You lowered your gaze, your fingers restless as they toyed with the sleeves of your black shirt. Every now and then, you’d lift your hand to your bare neck—you still hadn’t found any of your necklaces—as if seeking a distraction from the weight of the moment.

“Y-you are—you’re my—” you tried and couldn’t. Finally, you looked at him, and the words you couldn’t voice were right there, shimmering uncertainly in his dark eyes. “You’re my first thought in the morning and the last one at night. I don’t think my heart could take it if I started to have hope for us again, but we didn’t work out in the end.”

Jungkook felt his heart trip over several beats—

Stumble down his ribs—

Crash into his stomach—

Roll around the hollow cavities somewhere at the very bottom—

Rise suddenly, all the way back to his chest—

Expand—

And explode, it seemed. In a flash of light so vivid and intense that for a minute or two, his blood stopped running and he survived on nothing but the words you’d just said.

“And so that’s what I meant,” you finished, and he struggled to hear your next words over the loud pounding in his chest. “If I stay here and we don’t get back together—or we do, but not for long—then what? We see each other every day, we try to act like nothing’s wrong, we learn how to go back to being professional, and then four years later, you make another bet?”

Jungkook found the end of your sentence so utterly unexpected that he wasn’t sure if he had even heard you correctly. His response was half of a gasp and a fractured “I—” before you cut him off.

“I’m joking,” you said with a gentle smile—one that managed to feel both, very fitting and completely out of place in this situation. “That’s—well, that is why I think it’d be more reasonable for me to leave. That way, I think, we could figure it out without some dramatic, tragic consequences in case it, uh—in case something goes wrong.”

“R-right,” he said. A warm haze settled on his face in a delicate shade of pink. It appeared almost soft to the touch. “I… I understand. I-I don’t—I don’t know if there’s anything I can say that would take that away. All of your fear.”

You swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. There might not be anything to say at all.”

Jungkook hurriedly ran his tongue over his lips. He wasn’t thinking about you leaving right now. He was thinking about you staying and fighting through it.

He wanted to say something more, but he didn’t think he could mend these particular wounds in your heart. They ran deeper than his love could reach.

It wasn’t him that you should have talked to about this. It wasn’t him that could help you reach an agreement—or, at least, an understanding—with your own self.

“You should talk to your mum,” he said.

You looked up from the floor of the plane, surprised. “What?”

“Talk to her,” he repeated. “Just to hear what she thinks about everything. To hear her reasoning. To understand why she made the choices that she did. I think that would be good for you both.”

Your surprise deepened and gained an edge. You looked alarmed, as if the notion that a caregiver could ease your hurt rather than deepen it was new and foreign.

“I’ve—we’ve never—my mum and I have only talked about her relationship with my dad maybe once in our whole lives,” you said. “I have never even talked to her about my own relationship. You know I haven’t.”

He nodded solemnly. “I have, though.”

“What?” you asked. There was a ringing in your ears. “You have—you’ve talked to—to my mum? About—”

“I’m sure she’ll tell you everything.”

For a good minute, you watched him with an expression that held more questions than possible ways of asking them.

“I—I’m very confused right now,” you managed.

He nodded again, understanding, but still not offering any explanations.

He’d told you most of everything, really—he’d called those bits of the story “Haunting” and “Cursed.” But the rest of it had to be something you pieced together on your own.

For a long time, he had imagined this to be something that would hit you years later, perhaps when you would accidentally hear an old Rated Riot song. You’d think no, it can’t be, and you’d rush home. You’d pull out the albums, the track lists, and the lyrics.

And you’d know.

These conversations with your mum were his far side of the moon—invisible, but still present, still heavy.

These conversations were his thoughts and hopes and countless fears.

They were everything he brought to Rated Riot and everything he expressed in the recording booth, in Namjoon’s studio, and on stage.

They were his past and his present, and someone else’s future.

They were him without you, but still searching for you every morning when he woke up.

They were you, you, you.

Everything he’d ever talked to your mum about had been his songs. And all his songs had always been a tale about you—in every banal, every impossible narrative he could find within himself.

They were about seeing you and growing wings.

About kissing you and coming home.

About losing you and bleeding out.

About forever and five minutes that don’t mean anything once they’re over.

“I’m sorry,” he said, not capable of much else. “I needed her help with something. I didn’t really tell her anything, uh, directly, so to speak. But she—she knows. She’ll tell you everything. It’s just, um—you have to talk to her, too. You have to tell her what you told me.”

Airplanes, you realised suddenly, made it very easy to force yourself to stop running away. There was nowhere to escape—you could see the clouds reflected in his eyes and you were already falling in them anyway.

“I’ll talk to her,” you said.

Jungkook gave you a small nod and scratched his knee absentmindedly.

“I want you to stay,” he stated. “With the band. It’s—it’s selfish, but it’s the truth. I’ve always tried to encourage you to stop thinking so much a-and just do what you wanted, and this—this is what you want, despite your fear. You want to stay.”

You looked at him with a forlorn expression and he felt his hands twitch at his sides.

“But what will we do?” you asked.

“We’ll figure it out,” he promised. “I mean, we’ve gotten this far, right? So, give us a chance. We’re not completely hopeless. We can... talk our way through it all, step by step.”

You’ve talked your way through a lot and you have gotten this far, that was true. Even if the journey hadn’t been pleasant.

Seokjin had told you earlier today that as long as you stayed with the band, no one would care about what happened next. And, really, no matter how you looked at it, this was what it all boiled down to: it was just you.

Only you—afraid of what others will say, afraid of getting hurt and hurting him again, afraid of doing too much, and afraid of not doing enough.

“I’m—” you tried, “w-we don’t know what will happen. That’s why I’m—”

“I know,” he said. “And you’re right. We don’t know what will happen. That’s fucking terrifying. I’m scared, too.”

He did look a little scared, but he licked his lips and successfully collected himself.

The two of you were so close to meeting in the middle and taking that first step together—just a little more strain between your shaking, outstretched hands.

“And I-I know that the bet is another thing that—that might make it harder for you to believe that we can—that we can work it out,” he added, spinning his ring around his finger twice more. “But I want you to know that it—the bet was a fucked up thing to do. But it gave me a reason to talk to you about everything that I already wanted to talk to you about. I’m—even without the bet, I would have approached you, eventually. It just—I was fucking scared, so it might have taken me longer.”

It wasn’t just you.

Fear was in the epicentre of everything you were saying to each other. It was like the wind in every city you visited on this tour—inescapable, uncontrollable, persistent.

He was afraid, too—of trying and failing. Afraid of getting his heart broken and breaking yours. Afraid of never finding the forever that he desperately wanted with you.

“My point is,” Jungkook finished, “I think this is inevitable, because—well, let’s be honest,” he chuckled softly, trying to lessen the gravity of his confession, “all I’d ever wanted in my entire fucked-up life was you.”

Your breath trembled.

Something very deep inside of you wanted you to believe that inevitability was meant for the two of you, too.

“It’s been four years, though,” you said with a faint shake of your head. “What if it takes us another four to find a way to make this work?”

“It—well, I don’t really care how long it takes, to be honest,” he said. “I’m going to die yours.”

He said that and your heart stopped beating for a moment to listen.

To wait.

To make one thing very clear for you: you would never survive losing him again.

And you were scared—completely petrified—to find yourself in a situation where losing him was possible. Where it was likely.

Jungkook saw it on your face. He saw everything—the anguish, the pain, the doubt, the fear.

But he felt a little exhilarated to find the fight in your eyes, too. This fight was the reason you were talking to him about things that you’ve never talked about. It was the reason you were here.

“We’ll decide everything else when the idea of—of trying again doesn’t scare you so much anymore,” he said, keeping his voice steady. “When you hear your mum’s point of view, and you can make a, uh—an informed decision.”

He noted that there was something softer in your eyes when you looked at him again, but he could still discern the lingering edges of doubt.

“You think that’ll help me make an informed decision?” you asked, touched by his choice of words.

“I hope it will,” he replied. “But we can work it all out, either way. I just think you need to talk to her. It’s been so long.”

“Right. It has been.” You clasped your hands around your neck and tucked your chin between your palms. “It—it probably won’t be an easy conversation, though.”

“Nor will it be short, I imagine.”

“Hmm. Probably not.”

He sensed the growing distance between you as your eyes ran over the back of the seat in front of you. He knew you well enough to understand what you were doing: you were mapping out the rest of your story in your head.

He didn’t like that. Your stories rarely had happy endings.

“You don’t—don’t start planning it ahead, though,” he said hastily—before you reached the unhappily ever after in your mind. “It’ll be late when we land in London. You need to sleep. Talk to her after that. When you—when you’re not working. We can wait. We have time.”

Finally, you allowed your gazes to meet again—and to linger a little longer this time.

You took a moment to note that, despite knowing Jungkook for so long, every time you looked at him, you still needed a minute to will yourself to keep breathing. You remembered thinking, after your first few dates, if that would ever go away—logically, it should have.

But you watched him now, seven years since you’ve met, and the beating of your heart still felt backwards.

I’m going to die yours

I’m going to die—

“Okay,” you finally said. “I’ll call her as soon as possible.”

He nodded twice and closed his eyes for a brief respite—but hesitated, suddenly, before opening them again.

He wondered, for a suspended moment, what it would mean for you—this ‘as soon as possible.’

Then he looked at you and decided to tell you what he wanted it to mean.

“Before that happens, though—before you talk to her, I mean—I-I want to still be able to see you,” he said and did so assertively, using the phrase I want, but really meaning, I must. “I don’t want to not talk to you.”

You felt your frosty expression crumble effortlessly into a soft smile.

“We’ve agreed to a truce, right?” you said easily. Lightly.

His heart soared.

He was smiling, too, but with caution—his lips were pressed together as he bit into his lip ring to contain his smile to a level that he thought appropriate.

His shining eyes gave him away, however, and you wondered—the thought sudden and overwhelming—if there was a point in your life when you weren’t in love with him when he smiled.

“Let’s try a friendship,” he proposed.

“Oh—” Your smile abruptly turned into laughter as you remembered trying this once before. It had lasted for about two days. “You know we can’t be friends. We don’t know how.”

The gentle cadence of your laughter made him weightless.

“What are you talking about?” he teased—so high that he was certain the flight attendants were going to ask him to take it down a notch because it was dangerous to float on the ceiling in the middle of a flight. “We can be whatever the fuck we want to be.”

Your laughter grew bolder, strengthened by the relief that you’ve had this conversation, that you’ve decided on your next steps, however uncertain they were—and his smile spread.

You could see him beaming through your half-closed eyes, and there was absolutely nothing—no matter how big or small, significant or not at all—that you wouldn’t have done for him when he looked like that, and no amount of fear could have stopped you.

He'd burn down half of Europe for you, Seokjin had said.

You were worried you’d burn all of it for him.

“Honestly,” you said, “we’re such a mess that I have nothing else to say. Sure. Let’s try being friends again. Why not?”

“For the time being?” Jungkook asked. There was a tentative glint in his eyes. “Until we figure out if—until we decide what we’re going to do with us?”

It was very considerate of him to say ‘we’ here, when you knew that you were the one who needed to get it together in the end.

“For the time being,” you confirmed.

“And you’ll stay?” he asked once more. “With Rated Riot?”

Last night, he had told you he was letting you go, and you needed to hear it—not just to see how much he’s grown, but to fully understand yourself. To stop jumping from possibility to possibility. To accept that it was okay to do what you wanted sometimes.

The past few days were like flipping a coin and realising, while it was mid-air, which side you were hoping it would land on.

“I’ll stay.”

Jungkook thought that this flight was going to be the most thrilling part of his day. But a miracle happened as soon as the plane touched down in London.

His grandmother called him.

It wasn’t an accident like he had initially assumed when he saw her name on his phone. She called because she missed her favourite grandson and wanted to wish him good luck at his concert (and chastise him a little for not wearing “enough clothing” on stage).

Jungkook wasn’t sure if the tears in his eyes were because she’d remembered who he was, remembered what he did for a living, because she’d called, or because she’d confirmed his long-held suspicion that he was her favourite grandson.

Perhaps, and most likely, it was all of these things.

He was so excited that he stared at his phone even after the call had ended, ignoring the influx of more unintelligible, frantic messages from the same unknown number. He probably would have spent the rest of the night fixated on the screen if his battery hadn’t run out by the time everyone settled in the hotel.

At that point, there was nothing Jungkook wanted more than to tell you about the fifteen-minute phone call. However, he couldn’t call or text with his phone off—and waiting for ten minutes until he found the charger in his suitcase seemed like half of an eternity.

Unaware of the lateness of the hour, he lingered outside the hotel, thinking of a plan.

In the end, he decided he didn’t want to draw more attention to your friendship—he hiccupped on the word even in his thoughts—and approached the decorative garden at the front entrance. Ficus plants (artificial, as it turned out) rested in a bed of pebbles (real, for some reason) and Jungkook grabbed a handful of those before heading back to the south wing of the hotel.

He counted down the windows until he identified yours, then took half a dozen steps back from the wall and tossed a pebble at your window. It hit the glass with a gentle thud and dropped onto the grass four floors below.

Jungkook waited for a minute—or what felt like a minute—and tossed another one, making this one bounce against your windowsill before it slipped into your room through the crack of the open window.

He waited again and, finally, your curtains fluttered. A moment later, he saw your puzzled face as you opened the window and covered your squinting eyes with your hand, peering down into the darkness.

“Jungkook?” you called out. “What—what the fuck are you doing?”

“Trying to get your attention!” he shouted with an elated lilt in his voice.

You picked up the pebble from the windowsill and lifted it. He couldn’t see it very well from the ground, but he could see your confused expression.

“By throwing rocks at my window?”

“Yeah!”

“How—are you—for what—”

You stopped. There wasn’t a singular question you wanted to ask, because nothing about what he was doing made any sense whatsoever.

You leaned over the windowsill to get a better look at him, but it didn’t help much. The light from your hotel room made it difficult to discern his expression in the pitch-black night. And the garden lights adorning the exterior of the hotel only highlighted his white sneakers.

“I’m sure there were a lot of steps you could have taken before you had to resort to this,” you shouted into the night. “Most people text. Or knock on the door.”

“My phone’s dead,” he explained, lifting a black block that you assumed was the dead phone. “And I didn’t want anyone to see me going into your room. Can you come down here?”

“Wh—hold on a second.” You retreated into the room to put on a robe over the t-shirt you had worn to bed. The night wind felt a little less frigid when you leaned out of the window again. “Can you just come up here? It’s nearly six in the morning, no one will see—”

“Come on, we finally have a few days off!” he shouted, implying, clearly, that you’d have time to catch up on sleep later. After days of him forcing you to rest, this was very unusual—but, really, quite welcome.

You realised that something important must have happened for him to do this. However, his buoyant voice—and this whole situation in general—also made you wonder if he was drunk.

“I meant that it’s cold outside,” you said. “Wouldn’t it be warmer to—”

“I can—it’s not that bad,” he ended up saying after quickly surmising that his offer to warm you might lead to you throwing that same pebble right at his forehead. “Please?”

You were well aware that this could go on for a while, and it probably wouldn’t be long before your Romeo-and-Juliet-esque conversation attracted the attention of the hotel staff, who would politely ask you to find a different accommodation. The manager already didn’t seem especially pleased when he found out that a rock band would be staying at his hotel.

“Alright. I’m coming down,” you said. “Put the rocks back where you found them.”

He snickered and watched you close the window, disappearing inside of your room.

By the time he returned the remaining pebbles back to the garden, the sky was already beginning to paint itself red. The clouds obscured the rising sun, but Jungkook turned his head just in time to see you walk through the hotel door, and he felt like it was the middle of the day already.

“What’s going on?” you asked, a little concerned about the size of the grin on his face.

“My grandma called me,” he said. “She’s having a good day. She remembered me.”

“Oh, my God!” you gasped. All of your irritation about leaving your warm hotel room at this hour vanished in an instant. “That’s great news! Did you talk to her?”

“Yeah!” He nodded, nearly laughing in pure, beautiful euphoria. “The whole call, she was okay. Even scolded me for breaking the glass on her favourite picture frame when I came to say goodbye to her on the last night before the tour.”

You laughed, infected with his bright mood. “Jungkook, that’s—that’s fantastic. I’m so—”

Instinctively, he pulled you to him by wrapping his arms around your waist. For just a moment, he tightened his embrace and lifted you up slightly, laughing breathlessly when you gasped in surprise.

“I know,” he murmured into your neck as he lowered you to the ground. “I still can’t believe she really called.”

He held you close to him with one hand around your waist, and another one on the back of your neck—and you were stunned for a split-second. Then finally, muscle memory roused you, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, resting the side of your head against his.

“I’m—I’m so happy to hear that,” you whispered, feeling his breath on your shoulder and the goosebumps that rose on your skin as a result.

“I am, too.” He slowly pulled his head back to look at you, and the sight of the smile on his face was enough to pierce your heart with something that you could never remove. “You’re the first person I wanted to tell this to.”

Wordlessly, you pulled him back into a hug. You could feel the stretch of his cheeks against yours as his smile widened, and you realised you’d never want to run away from this. You’d always want to stay.

You were going to stay.

No. That wasn’t right.

You wouldn’t just stay with Rated Riot, determined to destroy every ounce of your fear for him. You’d have mopped up whole oceans for him. Captured shooting stars and stuffed them into jars. Flooded the entire world with an endless sea.

You’d have done anything to have him here like this: smiling so much that he could barely speak while his chest thud-thud-thudded against yours.

You felt so much of it—this vast love that refused to die no matter how much it was beaten—that you didn’t know what to do with it all.

A minute later, you pulled back slightly—a little dizzy from the intense whirlwinds inside your chest.

“T-thank you,” you stammered. “For telling me. I’m really—I’m so happy for you.”

His hands lingered on your waist, extending the moment to the very end.

“Thank you,” he replied, taking a reluctant step back. “She, um—she asked me to say hi to you. You know, from her.”

You were surprised that she remembered you—and brought you up!—and your smile returned, encouraged by the bashful look in his eyes when he said this.

“Give her my best the next time you talk to her,” you said.

“I will.” He nodded eagerly, then slowed down. “Although, I, uh—well—I don’t know when that’ll be.”

“That’s okay,” you replied quickly, not wanting to lose the lightness of the moment so soon. “The important thing is that she’s having a good day today. And she called you!”

You raised your voice at the end of the sentence, and it was enough to rekindle his excitement.

“She did!” he sang. “She said I was her favourite grandson, by the way. So I was right.”

“Oh—hmm.” You remembered pretending to argue with him about this in Stockholm and couldn’t help yourself. “Well, alright. I guess that makes sense. Remember that stray orange cat that she used to feed every night? Reginald?”

“Reggie,” he said, grinning. The cat was one of the first things his grandmother mentioned when she called tonight; it had stopped coming to see her, but continued to take up a large place in her heart. “What’s he got to do with this?”

“Well, I mean, she loved him so much, even though he scratched her every time she got too close,” you explained. “Clearly, she always had a soft spot for troublemakers.”

“Okay, now,”—he clicked his tongue—“my grandma did actually love that cat a lot, so I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You snickered and he laughed, too, and for a moment, he thought his chest might have exploded if he felt any happier than he did right now.

Then he noticed you clutching your robe closer to your body. Whatever you’d worn underneath wasn’t enough to keep you warm now that the initial excitement slowly began to fade.

“Do you, uh… want to go back inside?” he asked, gesturing at the exposed skin of your wrists. “You’re shivering.”

You looked down at your hands. “I’m okay. But maybe we could sit?”

You turned to look around. There was a bench right at the edge of the garden, next to a bronze-coloured flowerpot that was placed in the pebbles Jungkook had used to “get your attention”.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

You shivered all over again when he sat down next to you, and the bench turned out to be smaller than it had appeared. You could feel every bounce of his restless legs.

“So,” you said, “what did you two talk about?”

He brightened at your question, and suddenly, you didn’t think he was anywhere near close enough.

“Oh, so many things,” he said. “She told me she’d like to see us perform. Can we make that happen when we go back?”

“Absolutely,” you promised.

“Yeah?” His smile widened and his bouncing increased. “She’ll probably hate it. Mosh pits aren’t her thing.”

“We’ll put her in the balcony seats,” you suggested. This conversation felt so ordinary that it was hard to imagine you could be talking to him about anything else. “She’ll love every second of watching you on stage.”

“She said she saw pictures from the tour,” he added, giddy. “My cousins showed her Maggie’s Instagram profile.”

“Did she see your pirate cosplay?”

Jungkook displayed a remarkable resilience to the pirate jokes after that first concert—you and Jimin suspected that the response from the audience played a big part in his newfound immunity—and he chuckled at it now.

“She did,” he said. “She said I reminded her of Kurt Russell in Escape from New York.”

You pulled back a little to get a better look at him, even though he no longer needed to wear the eye patch. Most of the discolouration around his eye had already faded and you’d managed to cover up the scratches with a few smaller, skin-coloured adhesive pads.

“Well, shit,” you said. “Maybe I do kind of see the resemblance. You’ve got the hair.”

“I don’t know who that is,” he admitted.

You widened your eyes. “Jungkook. You don’t know Snake Plissken?”

“No, but my grandma said all her friends had a crush on him after the film came out,” he said. “Except for my grandma, of course. She insists she only ever had eyes for my grandpa.”

You both chuckled at this with a childlike glee—the thought of a love that spanned decades felt exhilarating and very possible as the sky awakened above you.

“My mum liked Kurt Russell, too, after the film,” you said. “And she was nine at the time. She snuck into the theatre with her brother and his friends.”

Jungkook inclined his head thoughtfully. “Maybe that guy’s not so bad, then.”

“He’s a classic,” you corrected. “But your taste in films isn’t.”

“That’s actually exactly what my grandma said,” he remembered. “She told me not to come home until I watched it.”

You could hear his grandmother saying this exact thing to him and felt yourself smile again.

“I think you’d love it if you watched it,” you said. “So, it’s not much of a threat.”

“Really?” He looked at you, but only for a fraction of a moment. “Would you—I mean, it’d be cool if we could—”

You knew what he was asking. And your response—like most of everything else tonight—came as a reflex. “I’m sure we can rent it on Amazon.”

“Okay,” he said, his shoulders slumping against yours in visible relief. “That—I’d like that.”

Unwelcome, the raw breeze of the late hour caught up with you, and you felt your body shudder involuntarily once more. Determined to ignore the chill, you opened your mouth to continue the conversation, but Jungkook suddenly leaned forwards.

“Here,” he said, slipping out of his dark flannel. “Put this on. It’s not much, but—”

“No, no—” you tried, but he drew closer to drape the flannel over your shoulders. “You’ll catch a cold.”

“I’ll be fine,” he insisted, pulling back. To further reduce the significance of the gesture, he added, “it’s what friends do. And I’m warm anyway.”

You clutched the collar of the flannel tighter to prevent it from sliding off. Or just to have something to do with your hands. “Well—thanks, friend.”

A powerful waft of his cologne permeated your senses, and you closed your eyes, preserving the refreshing blend of woody and citrus notes that already took up a significant amount of space in your memory.

Every time you inhaled, his scent mixed with a different moment from your life—and it all flooded your mind in an unstoppable sequence.

Meeting Jungkook—

Kissing him for the first time on that rainy night in the park—

Hugging him hello every morning before class—

Borrowing his clothes when you stayed at his dorm—

Losing your mind when you found yourself alone and his scent returned to you, uninvited.

Jungkook appeared to be sharing your memories in real time as he inhaled sharply and tapped his fingers against his shaky thighs.

“Friends,” he said, swallowing, “probably don’t kiss each other.”

His words ignited a fire in the pit of your stomach without any matches.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. “Yeah, uh—t-they probably don’t.”

“Hmm. Right.”

“As your friend,” you said, sitting up straighter and letting his flannel settle around your shoulders while you lowered your hands to the wooden bench underneath you, “I’m pointing out that you’re on a high because your grandma called. That’s why you’re thinking about—”

“I’m on a high because I’m with you,” he stated. “My friend.”

The fire inside you spread rapidly, wildly, uncontrollably.

The way you were starting to lose feeling in your fingers from gripping the bench so tightly, yet you refused to let go of it, should have probably been studied scientifically.

“Well, then,” you said, “let’s look at it this way: have you ever kissed friends before? Sid maybe?”

Jungkook snorted. “God forbid.”

“Minjun, then?”

“No,” he said. “Do you think I should?”

You snickered. “No. But if we’re friends, too, then we probably shouldn’t do that, either.”

He looked at you, his lips puckered in thought. Unconsciously, you had started to scrape at the dark paint of the bench.

You hadn’t meant a word of what you’d said. He suspected as much.

“Probably not,” he agreed. “But we’re such a mess, though, right?”

The echo of your own words on the plane brought a smile to your face again—a reaction more rooted in easing the sudden surge of anticipation rather than genuine amusement.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “We’re such a mess.”

Jungkook felt a little afraid, which was something that he always felt when the world around him blurred, and he found himself incapable of looking away from your lips.

It was dangerous, this tunnel vision. This singular focus. This impossible, magnetic pull that defied all reason, that made the whole universe tremble with a silent—

He leaned closer.

For a fleeting moment, the space between you was filled with nothing but your echoing heartbeats and silent memories.

For a fleeting moment, time itself held its breath.

You remembered Oslo and the way Jungkook had pulled away. You remembered how worried you were, how horrified—he was drunk, and he’d pulled away. He’d done the rational thing.

Funny thing, rationality.

You thought you were perfectly rational when you closed the remaining distance and your lips brushed against his—hesitant, uncertain, tender. A permission, a question, and his unequivocal death, all in one.

Jungkook inhaled—as if checking if he was alive or just pretending to be—and reached up to touch your cheek. He pulled you closer and stole the remnants of your breath with his kiss.

It was fair, he thought. You had stolen his entire soul.

The touch of your lips lasted for less than a minute—not nearly enough time for the trees around you to exhale in clandestine relief—but the softness of his mouth, the slow, intoxicating smacking of your lips against his, and the faint notes of mint on his tongue did irreparable damage to your pulse.

He stole that too, he supposed, because when he pulled away, his heart seemed to beat with enough strength to support the lives of half the population.

“Do friends discuss what it means if they kiss?” he asked, winded. His chest touched yours every time it rose in an attempt to recover.

Your laughter was breathless, too. “I’m thinking no.”

“I like what you’re thinking.”

Something very tranquil and very happy was inscribed into the contours of your features.

Soft red feathers spread across the sky above you as the city slowly stirred awake.

For the first time in a long time, everything felt like it was supposed to.

“I have a free day tomorrow,” you said. “Well, today.”

Jungkook was a bit puzzled by the shift in conversation but went along with it nonetheless. “Yeah?”

“Mhmm. The girls and I made plans, but I’m, uh—I’m going to call my mum before I go. I set an alarm for it and everything,” you said with a self-conscious chuckle. “I’m going to talk to her.”

“Oh.” He was shaking a little, he realised. He hoped you wouldn’t notice it and decide to give him his flannel back. “Well, that—that’s good. You should do that.”

You nodded, lowering your gaze to the grass and the pebbles below. “Yeah.”

“I’m going to kiss you again,” he decided. “For good luck.”

Your surprised smile overshadowed everything else he wanted to tell you.

“Oh,” you said. “Is that what friends do?”

“Yes,” he replied. “You didn’t know? It can’t be just one kiss, that’s bad luck.”

“Actually, I heard even numbers are bad luck.”

He gasped theatrically. “Oh, but that’s terrible! I’ll have to kiss you three times, then. To be safe.”

You smiled and shook your head. He died a little then, because everything was here, just like in his worst nightmares and his favourite daydreams: your scent, your eyes, your smile. All of you.

“You’re always such an idiot,” you said with so much affection that the wind crept away miserably, defeated by the warmth in Jungkook’s gaze when he looked at you. When he felt your hand on the side of his face—gentle and careful so as not to touch the healing bruises on his cheek.

“Hmm.” He wasn’t sure if he’d ever remember how to breathe again. “You said you love me, though.”

“I do,” you said, beaming, as you ran the tips of your fingers over the edges of his wolf cut. “It’s a burden I have to live with.”

He shivered from your touch and leaned in—impatient, all of a sudden. His lips met yours with a soft, rehearsed touch, and he thought he died all over again when you pulled him closer.

Your heart brought back the memories of sensations that you’ve tried to bury; it revived them and set them loose in your chest when you kissed him back and felt the smile on his lips.

Your heart threatened to quit it, to burst into flames and take you down with it when you felt his tongue slowly glide over your lower lip.

Your heart settled right against his when you parted your lips. When you felt his warm breath mingle with yours. When you held onto him with everything you were feeling, and he held onto you.

He kissed you in every way that a friend wasn’t supposed to, and groaned softly when he touched the back of your neck and felt the relentless roughness of goosebumps under his fingertips. Your body reflected everything he was feeling.

Every time your lips met—gentle and feverish—every time he pulled you closer—frantic and heated—every time you inhaled when he exhaled—sharp and eager—you were setting fire to something that once was and building something new in its place.

There seemed to be small fragments of a foreign nature inside of you both—fragments that had danced with each other long before your first kiss and would continue the lively, eternal swaying for years and years after your last.

Maybe it was dust from two neighbouring stars, drawn together by a force stronger than them, but forced to crash somewhere on earth and settle and quiver and wake up inside of you both.

Or maybe it was something less grand. Maybe it was just luck. Just coincidence.

“See,” you whispered, pulling back. “I told you we don’t know how to be friends.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he replied, kissing the corner of your lips. The sparks inside him were fierce and relentless when you smiled in response. “I think friends can decide what sort of friends they want to be.”

“What sort of friends are we going to be, then?”

“This sort.”

You could see the northern lights and the tails of comets in his eyes before he leaned in to kiss you again. You could taste the longing for the Milky Way and the whispers of timeless meteors on his tongue.

And it all solidified this for you: the two of you were not luck and not coincidence.

You were something much more.

chapter title credits: bring me the horizon, “follow you”

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slymewitch · 2 months

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So the manager at my local Stop and Shop…lets call him…Batt claims not to hate pineapples, but he constantly throws pineapples in the garbage despite having nothing wrong with them, which tells me he’s lying and that pineapples make him uncomfortable and scared. I think that Batt is an asshole because pineapples are awesome and should have just as much rights as any other kind of produce, and as much as Batt denies being against their existence his constant dunking of pineapples in the garbage speaks otherwise. Recently one of the pineapples, who we will call Redtresenpog, decided to speak out against Batt and made an innocent joke. Batt decided to smash Redtresnpog against a wall and threatened to call the produce police for threatening his life which the pineapple did not do, and could not feasibly carry out even if she did. Also Batt continued to call Redtresnpog an orange which she was not. It can be assumed that this all comes from Batt’s prejudice against pineapples compared to other produce as this kind of stuff only happens to pineapples. Now I feel very discomforted going to a Stop and Shop where this behavior is tolerated, however most of the people I know I know from this Stop and Shop and other shops like Target or Home Depot have been taking a nosedive, and outside of management, the customers at the Stop and Shop are very friendly to pineapples which is great. However the treatment of Redtresnpog is a sign that something has to change about the way my Stop and Shop approaches pineapples, and that they need to learn to be more accepting of pineapples, and that pineapples’ very existence is not rated R. Many of my closest friends are pineapples and the idea that Batt can walk out of his office and smash them on the floor whenever he wants to terrifies me. Not to mention the awful bill that town hall is thinking of passing that would put pineapples’ lives and safety further at risk than they already are. I really want to speak out against what Batt has been doing, but as the manager he has the power to kick me out of the Stop and Shop, which he will do because he’s a fucking manchild, and I really love the Stop and Shop, so I’m going to write a story to display my feelings on the matter in the form of an extended metaphor so Batt can’t get me in trouble.

So this manager at my local Wendy’s…let’s call him…Patt claims not to hate baconators, but-

#predstrogen #trans rights #trans rights are human rights #tumblr

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drvscarlett · 29 days

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About You Pt2

Sebastian Vettel x Webber!Reader

Summary: Everyone knows about the history of Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber. But there's a well kept story within the paddock about Sebastian Vettel and another Webber. This is that story.

A/N: were in the 2009 season. i also grabbed some ideas from a film quote so if you notice that, hello hehe. hope you enjoy, let me know your comments

About You Series: 1, 2, 3

Taglist: @spideybv28 @randomcuboidshape @mehrmonga @casperlikej @cliosunshine @randomgirlnumber-13 @sugyomama

2009, Albert Park

Moving from Toro Rosso to Red Bull has been the source of excitement of Sebastian ever since he signed the contract last December. He was excited to work with a bigger team and it opened up better opportunities for a championship which is why he feels really giddy walking to Albert Park.

"Seems like a good year for a championship?"Christian greeted Sebastian.

"I'm looking forward to that, the car feels nice"Sebastian agreed.

When the two walked to the garage, they immediately saw the Webber siblings discussing with some of the mechanics. Mark immediately waved at Sebastian.

Sebastian can tell that their dynamics improved since it was announced that they will be teammates. They spent a lot of time together in Milton Keynes so they found each other tolerable. It was surprising that now he feels a lot more closer to Mark than to Y/N.

He was actually expecting her to be around when they said Mark will be around Milton Keynes but the female Webber never showed up. Mark says that Y/N has been taking some time off since she will be busy during the season. Sebastian thinks he might be the reason why she has been absent so he felt a little relieve to see her.

"Excited for the first race of the season?" Y/N asked.

"The car seems alright, I think we can bring some good points in"Sebastian replied.

"We're gonna bring in a challenge this year, I can feel that we can compete for the drivers and constructors championship this year"Mark added

"How about Brawn, do you think they'll be a challenge?"Y/N wondered.

Sebastian heard about the team during the winter break. It was sort of a crazy story about how everything happened. He never saw Jenson or Rubens as a threat so he thinks that they might be an okay team that he doesn't have to worry about.

"They are a new team, I'm sure they won't be a threat" famous last words.

Brawn GP turns out to be a slight threat. Sebastian calls it a slight threat since this was only the first race and maybe its just their luck that they managed to pull away. They have to see how they perform in the next few races.

It was quite a bummer that Red Bull was unable to bring any points. It frustrated him heavily since he started 3rd and managed to stay 2nd the whole race until that unfortunate collision with Kubica that ruined his race.

Mark managed to finish the race but he finished 13th. Still out of the points.

As Sebastian was replaying the whole thing in his hotel room, he heard soft knocks at his door. He didn't remember ordering anything from room service so he was a bit confused as he headed to open the door.

"Hi Seb" it was Y/N "I was sent here by Mark to ask you if you want to go out and eat. You are in Australia and our family is from Australia and it will be a little bit rude if we didn't treat you out in Australia"

"That's too many Australia in one sentence"

"Have dinner with us and the family?"she simplifies "Please?"

There was not much to do anyway, Seb thinks so he accepted the offer. It might also be a good start to rekindle the friendship since its been a while since the two spoke with each other.

"You're driving?"Sebastian asked

"Of course, what kind of host am I if I'm going to make you drive"

The drive was reminiscent of Sebastian's memory when they were in Germany. Only that the view is more of beaches rather than the greens and the cold of Europe.

"I heard stories about you and Mark, it seems that you two are getting along quite well"Y/N opened up the conversation

"Oh he talks about me?"

"Well as his assistant, I have to ask about his work dynamics so yeah you have been a talking point of our conversation"

"That's nice"Sebastian smiles "How is life treating you? I didn't see you in Milton Keynes"

She lets out a heavy sigh and Sebastian could tell that there is a certain tiredness in her eyes. Maybe its true what Mark said that Y/N is actually drained from a season of F1.

"I just have to get away. A lot of pressure to deliver"

Sebastian understands that. Its probably the reason why he also tried to be understanding with Mark's situation as well. He knows that at the end of the day, the sports was brutal in one way or another. Everyone eventually gets that pressure to deliver.

"Let's not talk about f1, lets just talk about basic life things" Sebastian steered the conversation.

There was a smile gracing both of their faces because its just Sebastian and Y/N again. No last names, no championships, just them.

2009, Sepang International Circuit

"I hate wet races" Y/N confirms.

She doesn't get why everyone gets a bit excited with wet racing but she can't find how this is enjoyable for some people. Isn't the thrill of racing beyond speed limit exciting enough for them? Now they even want to race under dangerous weather conditions.

"It test your skills as a driver" Sebastian defended "Back me up here Mark"

"You're on your own Seb"was the reply of the older Webber. He did not want to take side with anyone.

The trio has been sitting at the garage waiting for the race to start. There was still 20 minutes left and Y/N has been stressing about how the dark clouds are looming over. She thinks it may start under dry conditions then go to wet in a snap.

"You can test your skills by overtaking and setting the fastest lap" Y/N noted

"Its all about strategy and taking risks"Sebastian assured.

"You better make sure that the both of you finish the race"

"No promises, Seb might hit me again"Mark joked

"Oh c'mon, I said I was sorry about that"

True enough to Y/N's prediction, the race started on the dry conditions then it ended up to be a wet race. Y/N had her fair share of wet races but this was the most terrifying for her opinion. There were puddles and the drivers can't see a thing with the rain blocking their vision.

It gotten so bad that Y/N actually went out of the driver's room to check on the status of the drivers.

"Aren't they red flagging the race?"she asked one of the mechanics

"There is still nothing from the stewards but Mark is also insisting that the race should be stopped"

Y/N was glad that she wasn't the only sane Webber around.

Just then there was a crash on screen and the weather made it very difficult for them to decipher which car spun but it was for sure a Red Bull. Y/N felt a bit comforted that it just spun without hitting anyone or anything.

"Its confirmed, that is Seb's car"

"Safety car for the lap"

"Webber is gonna ask to stop the race"

There was a flurry of emotions inside the garage. The race was stopped at lap 33 and there was the question if they will wait for it to restart or is it called off completely.

"I'm in 15th, this is not good"Sebastian was already groaning. He missed out on the points again by a big margin.

"Hey 15th is okay than dnf or being hospitalized"

Knowing Sebastian, Y/N knew he wanted to do well and it didn't seem like it was going to how Sebastian had it in his mind earlier this year. She gave him a comforting pat.

"Do you want some ice cream?"she asked

Sebastian looked at her as if she grew two heads "In this cold weather? You are asking for ice cream?"

"Ice cream heals people's boo boo" Y/N shrugged "Besides Kimi made me hungry for ice cream"

"You are crazy" Sebastian started "But c'mon lets go get some ice cream"

2009, Circuit de Catalunya

Mark: Can you see me before qualis at the back of the garage Mark: need your help, please

Sebastian never received any urgent texts from Mark so he must say that his curiosity is piqued by it. He immediately set out to meet Mark in the designated location.

"You need me?"Sebastian asked.

"Sebastian, just the person I needed" Mark seems elated to see him "Listen I need you to do me a favor"

"Okay as long as I don't have to hide a body"

"What?"

"Nevermind that. It was a joke Mark"Sebastian wanted to facepalm himself. Mark never seems to understand his humor especially when he was too excited with things.

"So May 15 is coming up. I need your help to distract my sister and maybe tour her around Spain while we do some preparation at the hotel. I just need your help to distract her for like 3-4 hours"Mark explained.

"15th?What's on the 15th?"

Sebastian was pretty sure that there was no race or other commitments that is happening on the 15th. He tries to rack his head for any important dates on the 15th but he can't remember a thing. Meanwhile, Mark looked offended that Sebastian didn't know the significance of May 15.

"Its Y/N's birthday"Mark answered.

Oh. Now that Sebastian thinks about it, Y/N never told her birthday. He felt like an idiot after realizing how they spend a lot of time together but he still haven't asked her about her birth date. But now that he knows, he makes a mental note of it.

"Okay. I think I can do that. Leave it to me"

"Thanks Seb, I owe you big time"

Seb: Are you still here at the 15th? Y/N: Why are you asking? Seb: I'm feeling adventurous. What do you say about getting lost in spain? Y/N: hmm sounds nice. Count me in.

"How long till we get there"Y/N asked.

They have driven for quite some time already and Sebastian promised that this place will be worth the wait. Sebastian will not admit it but maybe he got a little bit of lost in directions for the past 20 minutes and he is just starting to get the hang of the destination right now.

"Just a few minutes more" Sebastian assured. He can already see the spires of the building so he felt a sigh of relief escape.

"We were lost a while ago, aren't we?"

Sebastian just give out a grin as he continues to drive closer to the place. He stopped at the designated parking lot and unlocked the door.

"Adventure awaits Miss Y/N, welcome to La Sagrada Familia"Sebastian introduced.

When Sebastian was looking for a place to go, the La Sagrada Familia was one of the top hit. Sebastian didn't even consider if she is religious or what but he thinks she can appreciate the reminder that this architecture is still a work in progress and it has managed to endure a lot throughout the years of construction.

"This is beautiful" was her response.

"They say that this will be the most beautiful form of apology when it is finished"Sebastian informed "This was built for the city's sins"

"I beg to disagree"Y/N replied.

It was now Sebastian's turn to be curious.

"I think this is the grandest gesture of someone's love"Y/N elaborated "This went on for years, decades, centuries-they did not stop loving Barcelona that they continue working so that the city will be forgiven"

It was a pretty analogy in Sebastian's mind. He felt like no amount of his research could compare with that realization.

If the outside of the cathedral looks majestic, the inside is beyond what they could imagine. The both of them let out a small woah as they stepped foot into the church.

"You know you can make three wishes when its your first time to enter a church, they say it comes true when you do that"Y/N mentioned "You wanna give it a go?"

Sebastian nodded and he noticed how Y/N immediately closed her eyes.

'A world drivers championship. Happiness. Y/N receiving her wish' was what Sebastian prayed for.

He takes out a peek and Y/N was still in her own solemn state. Sebastian wonders what is it that she wishes for and he hopes that this three wishes thing works. He really wanted Y/N to fulfill her wishes, it will make him extremely happy.

"What did you wish for Y/N"

"Safe races, World Peace, and points for you and Mark" she answered

"Oh c'mon, you don't have things about yourself. Don't you have any personal wishes? Like your own goals or your own things?"Sebastian quizzed

Y/N knew deep down that she wanted something but she knew that saying it at the moment might not be ideal. But heaven knows, she prayed for Sebastian Vettel to stay in her life.

2009, Nürburgring

Y/N didn't mind that she was in heels, she was running as fast as she could to parc ferme. The moment that the last lap started and Mark was still leading, she immediately headed straight to the destination. Their father was already at the pits waiting with the signboard.

There was certainly a mix of emotions. Y/N's mind reel back to how Mark started pole and then had an incident with Hamilton at the start of the race. It caused him to have a penalty which lessens his chances of winning but Mark was in for a mega-drive. He managed to regain all the places that he lost from the penalty and here he is leading the Grand Prix.

Y/N felt her ears ringing as the crowd roars as the chequered flag appeared. Every speaker was blaring out the obvious, this is Mark Webber's first win in Formula 1.

People are starting to line up near the barricades. Y/N doesn't care if she was being pushed but she will be the first one to meet her brother and congratulate him once he gets out of the car.

"YOU DID IT! YOU ABSOLUTELY CRUSHED IT" Y/N screamed to Mark.

Mark did not miss his sister and immediately hugged her tight. He kept on repeating his thanks for her support and for not giving up on him. Y/N could only choke on a sob with the cameras flashing the emotional sibling moment that they shared.

"Congratulations Mark"Sebastian appeared next to him and Mark gave him a hug.

It was a happy day for the Red Bull team for securing double podiums. The whole Red Bull team cannot contain their happiness as the two walked to their podium spots. It is certainly a day that warrants a much needed night out.

So fast forward and Red Bull rented out a club to celebrate the victory of today. Y/N was certain that she deserved to let loose a little with the events that happened today.

Shots after shots, Y/N managed to drink everything up until the room started to feel a little bit wavy. It was a good thing that Sebastian has not been much of a party animal, he knew that this was Mark's time to celebrate so he won't be taking too much of a spotlight.

"You are seriously wasted, you should stop drinking now" Sebastian said, catching Y/N before she could trip in her heels.

"my brother won, can't you believe ittttt"her words are slurred.

"Yep, I'm getting you water and were going back to the hotel"

"NOOOOOO"

But Sebastian has already carried her out of the club. Sebastian knew that there are probably much more people wasted there but Sebastian was focused on Y/N. She was the reason why Sebastian decided to sober up the entire night. Knowing that Mark will be celebrating, no one will take care of Y/N.

Sebastian wanted to take care of her.

The trip to the hotel was smooth as Y/N was asleep at the car. Sebastian was giggling when he picked her up and she started rambling about how there are different kinds of beautiful in formula 1.

"But you know what's the most beautiful thing in f1 that I have seen?" she asked "Its the time where I saw Sebastian Vettel test the car"

Sebastian got curious, he didn't know that Y/N was around when he tested the car.

"And it was so dreamy. There was this beauty about him and you know he is so passionate. He isn't a paid driver or maybe he is but damnnnn the way he raced and the way he loved the wheels"Y/N rambles on.

It feels illegal for Sebastian to be hearing this and he knows he should not take advantage of Y/N's truthful drunkness to hear what she thinks about him. But somehow, Sebastian stayed with her. He tucked her in the bed and left a glass of water at the bedside table.

"Did you know Sebastian Vettel is the prettiest boy ever. He is so pretty like how the sun is so pretty to the plants" Sebastian also laughed at the comparison. Y/N was really really drunk.

"I like Sebastian"

"What?" was Sebastian's shocked question.

"I like sebastian, what sue me? I think he is a pretty pretty boy"

Sebastian feels like his heart is pounding but he has to stay cool. She is drunk right now and she might not be aware of the things she is saying.

"You get some rest, lets talk about this in the morning" Sebastian said as he left the girl.

It took every ounce of his being to prevent himself from confessing that he likes her a lot too. But Sebastian will do his confession sober. If Y/N remembers this incident then they will talk about it. If not, he will wait for the right timing to discuss the feelings he has for her.

Morning came and Y/N did not remember anything.

#sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #sebastian vettel x oc

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bokuroar · 3 months

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12:17 — few years later | 🛬❤️‍🩹🎇 iwaizumi h.

“you’ll be there, right? right? right?!”

if it’s anotamically possible to cut your ear off without passing out because of oikawa’s incessant nagging, you would’ve done it the first few seconds he begged you to accept kuroo’s reunion dinner invite before the all-star game. you were seijoh’s babysitter manager after all so, according to kuroo, it’s just right you’re there, in which you only replied with a i’ll think about it.

“haji’s gonna be there.” oikawa says in his annoying singsong voice and you swear you could hear his smirk right through your phone.

you bite your lip as if oikawa could see you blushing and smiling through the call. after years of graduating from high school, you wouldn’t have thought just hearing his name will elicit the same effect on you.

“and?” you reply nonchalantly because you would rather crawl under the earth and bury yourself alive than let oikawa confirm your cutesy, little high school crush on iwaizumi never really went away.

oikawa being your best friend saw through your reply and snorted, “pft, if i know you’ve been looking at his instagram every night before you sleep just because you’re too much of a scaredy cat to hit him up. don’t act as if you don’t zoom in on his shirtless pi—“

“oh my god, fine! i’ll go to this freaking dinner so please for the love god shut the hell up! ” you exasperatedly sigh wanting to tolerate oikawa’s teasing no longer not because it’s untrue but because you felt like you were caught committing a crime. it’s a curse and a gift you have a best friend that knows everything about you.

you hear oikawa shriek through your phone in celebration and about being there at 6, so you mutter a good bye before he lays out a plan that involves dragging you wherever into the night.

as if on cue, your phone lights up with a notification from your old group chat when the call ended,

✉️ t. oikawa: see you all on saturday!!!! no backsies!!!!!! :p

you roll your eyes knowing he’s talking about you. you were about to hit send on a message something about being him still being an annoying ass when another bubble popped in your screen that made you rewrite everything you were about to say.

✉️ h. iwaizumi: im back too 🇯🇵 see you guys :)

✉️ you: i’ll be there ☺️

come saturday, you’re standing in front of the restaurant which every nook and cranny you’re familiar with as this was a popular go-to after-school-dinner-place during your younger years with the team. you try your best not to look frantic while you check your phone at least every 10 seconds to tell oikawa “wru >:(”

you were about to hit the call button when you hear somebody clear their throat. as a reaction, you step away from where you were standing thinking you were probably blocking the entryway.

“sorry i was just w— oh. haji?” you take these few seconds to take him in—the way his shirt hugged his biceps, the watch that also somehow added to his attractiveness, his skin that’s more tanned, his freshly cut hair, and his smile. god, that smile. so many things have changed about him since he last visited home but his kind, subtly giddy smile still reached his eyes.

“been awhile, hasn’t it?” iwaizumi sheepishly say and you hold back a gasp when he scratches the back of his head that flexed his arm.

“it’s been.. yeah? yeah, it has. i mean. yes..” you nervously laugh, mentally kicking yourself for tripping over your words.

you feel your cheeks redden, not from the cold air of the darkening day but because of the manly, handsome laugh that bubbles from iwa’s chest. “watcha doin’ out here, though? waiting for a someone or..” he drags his sentence hoping you don’t hear his silent prayer that you are romantically available.

you snort before you could even think about it, “no, c’mon it’s not like that.” you laugh and went on to tell the tale of oikawa begging you to come, “i’m waiting for that idiot tooru who went several measures to make sure i’m here.”

“you two were thick as thieves, weren’t ya? i’m glad you stayed in touch even if that shithead went abroad.” iwaizumi smiles and you can’t resist staring at how he threw his head back when he laughed at oikawa’s typical antics.

“wish we did too, y’know. i missed ya.” iwaizumi suddenly confesses, “i just found myself wanting to talk to you when i was out there.”

to say your heart felt like it dropped on your feet was an understatement. it’s like everything froze—the leaves halted midair, the world went silent and the only sound you could hear was the loud thump of your heart. all what you manage to let out is, “o-oh? you did? really?”

iwaizumi looks at you like you just asked the most ridiculous question, “‘course i did. we talked every day then! remember how i used to walk you home after our trainings then stop by that dang old ramen place that was there since forever? missed hanging ‘round with you and the team ‘tis all.”

you smile as you look at the ground, shyly but fondly recollecting all the simple but sweetest moments with iwaizumi you cherish so much. with his sudden reminiscing, you recall the sort-of debate you had with him because he kept on insisting he should always walk you home.

“r-right. the team. yeah, i missed them too.” you say as you shake your head along with the thought of having a chance of romance with your longtime friend.

“we should go inside. fuck that tardy tooru i think a lot’s of them here.” you casually laugh and walk towards the door until you felt a hand on your wrist.

iwaizumi shoots you a grin, “what do you say the two of us go grab that ramen? for old time’s sake?”

a/n: so .. uh … im back ! hope everyone’s still here 😅🫣 anw this was supposed to be just a drabble but i got a lil carried away & im alr thinking of writing a pt 2 .. wdyt hehe

#✏️.haikyuu!!#💭.iwaizumi #i love them . A LOT #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu headcanons #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi imagine #iwaizumi hajime #hajime x reader #iwaizumi x y/n

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creation-help · 6 months

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A special kind of intimacy between characters

[Not restricted to romantic dynamics!]

- I tear bread into smaller pieces to feed them to you, as if I am Jesus, or a mother bird. You may view me as a savior but I would kill for you

- Being there for the other person when they're sick - In a gross, disgusting way. Holding them unwaveringly through the wretched and repulsive, unflinchingly. Don't apologise, just survive. I'd do it again.

- You're scary, but I'm scarier. You don't know that yet, but I hope you won't fear me when you do.

- You're scary, and thank God for that. I'm more than happy to close my eyes when you use it on others. I am a coward.

- One character knowing exactly what the other one would really like to ask for, but is too self conscious or selfless to. Thus, they do it and provide, without the other person needing to outright request it. The self conscious character always makes sure the other one knows it's not obligated and they're always free to decline, and the other one nods firmly, knowing that, and still doing it.

- Sitting next to each other at the end of the world. Because it won't be okay. But they've accepted that

- "You destroyed the thing I love and I can't forgive you for it." "I can't forgive myself either." "I still can't hate you despite that." "I can."

- "Please hate me" "No."

- One character understanding when the other is in too low of a state to act like a decent person currently, and so they don't step over those lines that they'd normally tolerate. The first character holds the other one responsible for things later nonetheless, when they're able to actually carry it

- Two characters sharing the negative perceptions and opinions they've had of each other over the years. This can either lead to a realization that, respectfully, out of deep understanding of each other, they decide to not stay in touch with each other again from now on. Or, it can lead to a realization that thanks to this understanding they now have, they're more ready to become closer and have managed to clear the air with this conversation

- Characters of notably different ages talk and reflect on time that has passed between them. They feel a connection over how different their circumstances were. The younger one audibly wishes they could've done or changed something significant, to which the older character pointedly and gently tells them it wasn't their place to. Let us old crooks handle the tough things. (It wasn't your fault you spent formative years like this. I'm sorry you had to)

#Imagine your oc #Oc dynamics #Oc prompts #Imagine your otp #character imagines #oc imagines #Character dynamics #Ship dynamics #Not all of these are healthy and balanced I know #Just putting that out there #But tumblr loves complex dynamics #Character dynamic ideas #nonsexual intimacy #I use ship related tags for visibility but again NOT ALL THESE ARE ROMANTIC AND CANT BE.#But some can.

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galedekarios · 3 months

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Gale headcanons go! :]

thank you for your ask. i'm sorry it took this long to get around to it. my mind blanked.

i want to add that these are solely my own headcanons and just that. nothing more. if you have a different opinion, that's valid. i'm not here to argue or debate about it.

anyhow, these aren't in any particular order, just writing as i think of them:

-gale was clean-shaven before the orb and being discarded by mystra. his hair has outgrown its original style as well. this is the reason why tara hates gale's beard, even when felines usually like to rub their faces against them.

-while gale has enchanted the piano in his tower to play by itself, he can and does play himself when the mood takes him.

-gale doesn't truly get jealous or possessive. he skips that step and slips right into questioning himself and feeling sad/insecure.

-gale tends to overthink, he struggles with anxiety and feeling overwhelmed esp after the orb, but has found methods that help him deal with these feelings and bring them under some form of control to examine them ("please, i need to think... i need to retrace my steps to a glade of calm and think.")

-he cries at his wedding & struggles through his vows

-he never takes off his wedding ring

-while he is very much an acts of service person in a relationship, he learns to accept and love being taken care of and doted on by his partner

-gale is very much able to find beauty in the mundane and simple things of life: beautiful flowers in a garden, the way the light falls at sunset, the sound of rain tapping against the window, the fresh salty sea breeze in the morning, a warm cup of expensive tea, a beautiful piece of art, a touching poem

-he often prefers walking home with his partner after work instead of using portals or teleportation. it allows him to talk about both of their days and show his partner things about the city he loves so very much. it also allows him to clear his head after a long day.

-his spellbook has pages that look like this:

when tara has decided that nagging him to stop working didn't cut it anymore.

-speaking of: gale gets so absorbed into his work and research that he skips both sleep and meals

-after his long isolation and depression, struggling with orb and being affected by it physically, gale is quite slender/willowy (tara has several lines reminding him to eat and take care of himself in an origin run) with a soft stomach and no muscle definition

-he's ~175 cm

-he's touch-starved

-while he does like to cook for others, he doesn't tolerate anyone helping him with the task. he will however appreciate it if his partner cooked for him.

-his tower now is quite barren, except for his extensive book collection, having consumed most magical artefacts he owned

-after his return to waterdeep, he likes to fill it with little things he has collected over time. the space is healing as much as he is.

-gale still suffers from chronic pain flare-ups, even after the orb is gone/calmed

-he likes it when things (fabrics, clothes, pens, books, etc etc etc) are well made and of high quality, but not necessarily ostentatious

-he has an eclectic taste, sort of imparted on him by morena's own

-his father abandoned him and morena

-gale is extremely open-minded and accepting, and will entertain almost any and all thoughts and opinions as long as they are well argued for / follow a sound logic

-while he's not easily spooked or scared given how diverse and open waterdeep is, nothing quite managed to prepare him for the things he would see during the journey to cure himself and the others of the tadpole. his knowledge was mostly academic, save for the stray unfortunate death slaad encounter. he works through these things by compartmentalising. writing them down, examining them and going over them in his mind.

-he hopes that he and the friends he's made on this journey will stay close. he writes them regularly and is elated when he receives a reply himself, but will need encouragement and reassurance to organise a get-together in waterdeep.

-his biggest flaw is not hubris or the ambition in the pursuit of knowledge he held as a chosen, his biggest flaw is his sense of worth as gale dekarios, the imperfectly perfect human being, the person behind the titles and accomplishments and perceived failures and insecurities

-he still has to realise what truly happened in his 'relationship' with mystra and still has a lot of healing to do after the game ends

-in the early stages of his relationship with his partner, he's very willing to please/tolerate, at times sadly to the detriment of his own preferences (drow twin scene)

-while he takes compliments in stride, he still likes and appreciates word of affirmation and praise; his partner insulting or degrading him would wound him deeply

-while he wouldn't be a father himself, he would be perfectly happy to be the eccentric uncle. yet even so and while he does love it, he would need time to recharge his social batteries after / recover from the overstimulation that being around children for a prolonged amount of time brings.

-gale's magic is a second nature to him and he likes using it even for the many mundane things, turning the page of a book, getting a spice from a high shelf, etc

-he's a born sorcerer with a wizard's education

-after settling in waterdeep with his partner, he lets his hair grow out more

-while easily lost in his work and research, gale is extremely thoughtful about anniversaries or birthdays, always striving to find the perfect gift

-he likes reading to his partner or being read to & discussing it, exchanging thoughts and opinions

-it's canon that he does write poetry, i like to imagine he'd sometimes leave little haiku-esque verses for his partner

i'm sure i have more, but they escape me right now so. 🖤

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #tav x gale #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #ch: gale dekarios #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #text: asks

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