#i really hope this was intentional bc it’s so clever

[patrophthia]

Heya, I don't know it's already done or not but can you please write about the egoistic yandere Tom Marvolo Riddle with a hugeeee obsession and love🤔 on introverted half blood slytherin y/n who doesn't give a f*ck him and his looks like other girls of Hogwarts!🫠

thank you for sending this in, i was really hesitant on writing this bc i’ve never wrote anything like this before so i hope you like it!

know you better | tom riddle

pairing: tom riddle x fem!reader

warnings: yandere!tom, very obsessive and delusional way of thinking, death, even more delusions

To fall in love with you was the easiest thing Tom has ever done. All you had to do was merely be in the same vicinity as him and he’d found himself more than just head over heels over you. 

For you to fall in love with him on the other hand, that surely was one of the hardest things he had to do in life. You don’t look at him —not because, unlike the others, you didn’t dare to but because you weren’t interested in him. You don’t offer him a smile when he greets you good morning. You don’t throw yourself at him when he turns a blind eye when he catches you sneaking around the castle at night. You don’t care for him. 

And quite honestly, it is driving him insane. What is it that everybody has that he doesn’t? Why does everyone else get to see you smile when you won’t even turn in his direction? Why won’t you just admit you want him as much as he wants you? 

Though you don’t show it, Tom can read between the lines. He thinks —no, he knows that you’re acting indifferent to play hard to get. He knows you want him, you just won’t admit it.

He tries to be a gentleman about his intentions at first, sliding up to you whilst you hover your cauldron during potions. He calls out your last name cautiously, careful to not startle you; he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he accidentally hurts you. You turn to him, a small frown appearing on your lips. “Riddle?” 

He skips the formalities, not bothering to beat around the bush. “Would you like to go out this weekend?” 

You fix him a look, and then, “no.” 

You didn’t hear him right. That’s what he tells himself. Or maybe he’s confused, because why wouldn’t someone want to go out with him? Tom clarifies himself, “I meant on a date.” 

You turn back to your cauldron, ending the conversation as is. “No.” 

He was certain that you’re playing hard to get now. That was until one of his goons —Malfoy, that was his name, started noticing that Tom’s eyes tended to wander whenever you were in the same room as him; until Malfoy tells Tom exactly why you’d said no. 

“Macmillan, that’s his name. Walburga says they’ve been going out for a few months now.” You have a boyfriend? No, no, that can’t be right. There’s no way you had a boyfriend when you were so clearly playing hard to get with Tom this entire time. 

Was it because your ‘boyfriend’ was holding you back from your true love? Or were you using this ‘boyfriend’ as bait? Had you known that it was time for Tom to create his next Horcrux and had needed a new sacrifice? How thoughtful of you to take care of these little things for him. 

Luckily Tom’s smart, he’s known to be smart, and he’s smart enough to read you like an open book even though you won’t spare a second of your time on him. He admires it, how hard you’re playing this role of not caring for him when you’re clearly as indicated with him as he, you. 

He’ll take up on your offer, he thinks as he sets out towards his chamber. The Basilisk is a dear friend of his, it’s even dearer when it does these things for him. In Parsel tongue, Tom says his order. “Kill Macmillan. And be careful not to hurt her.” 

The Basilisks set out first, setting off after the aforementioned man; Tom a few steps behind. It isn’t hard for him to follow his dear friend, it leaves a wet trail in its wake for him to follow and it’s even easier for him to know when his friend has done its job from the scream you let out. 

Tom’s clever enough to hide behind the corridors as he waits for his friend to return back to his home. His heart aches to hold you as you scream time and time again, asking for help and he reminds himself to reward you for your amazing acting. 

With the way you’re so desperately clinging onto Macmillan’s body, you almost convince him that you genuinely cared for Macmillan, like Macmillan really was someone you were in love with. But he knows you, he knows you better than you know you. And he knows you love him. 

So he schools his expression to one of worry, if you were really playing the part then he should be a good sport and play it with you. “What’s wrong?” He asks you, not sparing a glance at Macmillan’s frigid body. 

“This —this thing, it came and it—” you stutter out, hiccuping out each word as you swiped at your eyes. Tom places a hand on your own, removing your grip on Macmillan’s body and ignores it when you flinch at his touch. “—it, I don’t know what it did but next thing I knew he was— he was gone.” 

Oh poor you, he sympathises. Such a good girl for him to play your part so well. He pries your other hand away from Macmillan’s body and wraps his arm around you. “It’s okay,” he offers, pressing your face against his chest. “It’s okay, I’m here now. I’ll keep you safe.” 

You sniffle, pulling away from him slightly. And when he realises that you could see the red glow in his eyes, neither of you mention it; for you were too afraid of the man holding you, and he too in love for something so trivial to take part of your conversation.

— from bee: this is so so new to me,, i hope you liked it!

#— requests #tom riddle fic #tom riddle x yn #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #tom riddle angst #tom riddle x reader #yandere!tom riddle x reader #— blurbs with bee #🧳: my writing #🍰: 600 with patro!

[noxiatoxia]

i need you guys to know that i am really sick right now and have been bed ridden for days. and my evil evil evil friend the other day, WHILE i am sick and overwhelmed already from being so sick, drops the bombshell of "have you realized if you flip episode 21 backwards it's 12..... like midnight.....like cinderella" i actually got so fucking upseti was sick and tired and stressed and then i read that i had to take a fucking xanax to calm the fuck down i couldn't handle it. i hate it here. 12. eyah, sure, episode 21, backwards is 12. sure! ok! was this intentional ? does not even matter. it is like when somebody does the thing that is racist or perhaps sexcist and it is like, well i understand you meant nothing no harm by it beut it was still bad regardless of intentions that is what this is like, even if they did not intend for the 21 to dlip to 12 and be midnight the damnage is done. honestly good allegory for the allegory itself this awhole thing was unintnetional damafe done to ME specifically. like. guys put yourself in my shoes rigth now. i am up at 4:00am i want to sleep but i have to wait 30 more minutes so i can take my meds i am on a schedule so i wont be sick anymore and instead of speanding this time watching youtube or playing video games or doing smth productive you know what, i am thinking about the carriage allegoryand about how 21 backwards is 12. 12. like midnight.....like was that intentional dude.....like the writers, they are generally clever sometimes so like i could vision it being intentional at least a little bit like SOMEbody on the staff knew what was up. i mean it will never be confirmed though it is all speculation whcih is the worst part about all of this, like the lallegory itself i get no fucking closure it is all just guesswork and shambles. and now i am #jonker mode over hwat? pumpkin anime? the only pumpkin kaoru should be doin is pumpin ' his kin ok ok........ stop with the gay cinderella shit nobody cares. see this is why i cant handle the idea of ouran season 2 or a reboot bc, it is bad either way. 1) they bring back the carriage i m done for 2) if they do nt i will be pissed off because i want it resolved so then they are just ignoring it 3) even if they bring it back and do it well i will still be traumatized like this wont ifix anything the damahes had been dealt and i ahve to live with it forever. so for my sake i hope they never remake ouran i deserve some peace and fucking rest ok at least hold out like......3 more years or something like maybe the grief will have dulled by that time. so a remake/reboot/season 2 wont be so traumatizing to me it will be like "oh, ok" you know. i feel like i had a comparison but i lost it. i dont wantch much anime tob e quite honest. can you tell im trying to kill time waiting for 30 minutes to pass it has only been 7. fuck episode 21. fuck the fact it is a 12 when flipped. fuck mifnight, the time. fuuuuuck episode 21. why coulnt it be 22 to avoid this. episod e 21 should be the name of an std

#carriagecore #cant wait to wake up and see this post on my dash nd thing woow i was really tired hihuh #idc about the spelling mistakes im too lazy #;noxiatalksia #ohshc

[saras-devotionals]

Quiet Time 3/9

What am I feeling today?

Sick and nostalgic. Driving back home today and I’m going to miss pittsburgh. I haven’t gotten better though, my throat is still killing me and I’ve been coughing too, still don’t know what it is bc all my tests came back negative. Also stressed about the rest of the semester, I’m not ready to go back bc I know it’s just gonna be so much more work and idk how I’ll keep up without some sort of divine intervention 😅

Bible Plan: Healing What’s Hidden

Strength in Weakness

Depending on the context of your painful experience, your instinct may be to push back against those offering help. But you can’t win the war against trauma on your own. The enemy is too strong and too clever. The only hope you have is to let humility lead you to healing. It seems contrary to reason, but strength is found in acknowledging our weaknesses.

I don’t think I push back against help. I can be wary of it sometimes, not always believing their intentions. But regardless I latch on to anything to help me (which can also be a problem bc I don’t take the time to discern).

Paul knew this well. He experienced all kinds of hardship and trauma. This dude was beaten, stoned, and shipwrecked, all while being on the most wanted lists of the Gentiles and the Jews at the same time! He was a tough guy. No one would challenge that. Yet he didn’t boast about his strength and fortitude but rather about his weakness.

This is the reasoning behind our perfect weakness ministry. And I appreciate all that they have done for me thus far. I feel I’m at a point right now where I want to decipher my emotions but I don’t want to put in all the work and effort. I can scratch the surface level but I’m having a hard time pushing myself to dig deeper, it just feels like there’s a roadblock inside me and I don’t know how to get past it or what’s beyond it.

Humility invites others to help us. Pride pushes them away. Humility permits God to enter into our pain. Pride says, “I can do it alone.” Humility listens to wise counsel. Pride rejects the advice of others. Humility leads to healing. Pride leads to destruction.

Okay so I actually wrote a lot about this but then my phone refreshed and I lost all of it🥲 basically I went on a whole rant between my own humility and pride and I noted that I can be prideful in some areas but I try my best to be humble before other people and God bc if my way doesn’t work, that’s for a reason beyond me.

The humility required to heal from trauma is a risks/rewards scenario. You have to be willing to put yourself in others’ hands—to entrust them with your story—in order to build the loving relationships and community you’ll need to heal. It’s not easy, and it’s the total opposite of what your brain may tell you to do, but you can’t skip this step. Openness and vulnerability are what your heart needs in order to heal.

again, this was deleted🥲 but even though it can be uncomfortable and at times painful to be open with other people it is absolutely necessary and something I’ve been doing with the people around me since I was a little kid bc that’s just how I’ve been, I like to talk through everything, it’s incredibly helpful and I yearn for it.

Proverbs 16:18 NIV

“Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall.”

Pride can absolutely destroy us, thinking our way is better is not the right way to go. Therefore, let’s continually (daily) submit ourselves to God and His will because we are not our own Lord.

2 Corinthians 12:9-10 NIV

“But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

scripture from perfect weakness. This is really great because almost daily I feel weak. I feel that I have absolutely no strength at all and can’t possibly do a thing without His help because I know I can’t. I’m like the shell of a person a lot of time and I just, as cheesy as it sounds, need Jesus to take the wheel. But again, I need to blast in my weakness! I can own up to it! I know I am weak but the reason I’m still here is because God is not weak, He is the strength I rely on!

1 Peter 5:6-7 NIV

“Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.”

He cares for me🥹 idk about y’all but that really truly means so much to me. Even when I may feel that I have no one else in my corner I know that God got me and that’s so comforting. With all this anxiety I’m feeling, I’ll just give it to God. I know that He’ll pull through for me because He always does.

#bible #quiet time #bible quote #bible scripture #bible study #bible verse #christian blog #christian faith #christian living #christianity #devo #daily devotional #devotional group #disciple of christ #devotional #discipleship #jesus loves you #faith in jesus #jesus saves #jesus #faith in god #faith #love #saras devotionals #3/9

[kiisaes]

Hi new follower here :) I just saw your „live reaction to bkg’s resurrection“ post!

Did you know that in the Japanese original there was an additional line that said „Their feelings become one“ which was completely left out in the official English translation? I am so mad about that >:(

(hi there!!! thank u for following and welcome to my blog, i hope u enjoy ur stay :'D)

yesss i did know!!! yeah i really don't know why the english translation always either leaves out important phrases or flat out mistranslates 😭 that's a pretty impactful line there that essentially solidifies bkdk's positive relationship development as well as both of their connections to OFA

and idk if these decisions are intentional but it does suck. it's not like the author of a story purposefully puts specific dialogue or captions or wording in general to further a point that is oftentimes incredibly intentional. and it's not like japanese is a pretty clever language with a lot of double meanings and puns and other cool stuff that obviously won't perfectly translate into english but could still be worked around if there was just an ounce of care put into translating. that's TOTALLY not a typical manga, or even narrative, thing that matters and should be treated with respect (heavy sarcasm)

this is also my understanding as to why so many bakugou haters who read the official translation think he "hasn't changed". it's bc quite a bit of his dialogue is fucked up to hell just to make him sound either disrespectful or dismissive, even when he doesn't sound like that in the original. it even happened in the most recent chapter! it's like furthering the imaginary point that bkg will always be rude even in serious situations when clearly that isn't the case through horikoshi's own words. fuckin describing his own impalings as "getting swiss cheesed" during his contextually VERY vulnerable and honest apology to deku ... like what the hell kind of dialogue is that. who talks like that. the hell are you doing

#like not only is this just a dishonest representation of a canon character but also it's pretty disrespectful to horikoshi himself #no doubt the man spends a lot of time formatting his dialogue and phrasing only to get wholly misinterpreted by some random guy #who doesn't give a damn and just wants to write whatever sounds best to HIM like my god man. are u for serious #damning a manga and the readerbase's comprehension of it just to get a few chuckles #seriously still baffled by 'swiss cheese'. HOW hard was it to just stick to the script #asks for becki #bnha manga spoilers #mha manga spoilers

[rainbowcolored7]

Jak! Dearly beloved, I'm thrilled to see you on your Musketeers bullshit, you've reminded me how overdue I am for a rewatch. Would you happen to have any fic recs? 👀

Fleet my love! 🥰

*chants* rewatch rewatch rewatch!

I absolutely have recs! (they say as they check their bookmarks to find there is only one and the rest have fucking disappeared?!?! In my search to track them down again I may have missed some sorry...) My otp is Athos/d'Artagnan, Porthos/Aramis, and poly Athos/d'Artagnan/Porthos/Aramis (with Constance occasionally in the mix). I hope that's okay! And in an attempt to keep this list from being horrifically long I'm going to try and share one fic per author, but most have written several wonderful fics that are favs, so definitely check out their other works as well. (says this and immediately fails)

Une histoire de bleu by ceeturnalia (traveller) - This is my top favorite of all time for this fandom. I can't count how many times I've reread it, I have the dang thing nearly memorized lol. Rated E, D/s, Athos/d'Artagnan.

kairos & logos by ceeturnalia (traveller) - Rated E, soulmates and reincarnation, OT4. This fic lives rent free in my head nearly as much as Une histoire de bleu. It's not a coincidence they're both written by Cee, who is an incredible story teller.

Multiples of Three by Q__Q - Rated E, OT4. I'm a huge sucker for fics where d'Artagnan is unsure of where he stands with the rest of the gang until they all have to kiss about it.

Ye Heirs of Glory by Kyele - Rated E, a/b/o, Athos/d'Artagnan, Porthos/Aramis etc.. I will admit I never actually finished this one. If I remember correctly I got about halfway and was yanked into another hyperfixation and forgot all about it, but the world building is exquisite, and I have every intention of finishing it soon.

every time i see your face by cherryfeather - Rated E, OT5, just absolute sexy mouthwatering fivesome filth. Also highly recommend going through the rest of this author's works because they're amazing.

The Fruit of Knowledge by breathtaken - Rated E, Athos/d'Artagnan, undercover shenanigans that gets really real super quick. This is another I am constantly rereading because it's one, incredibly sweet, and two, spicy spicy spicy om nom. Also check out the rest of this author's works bc just wowza. The talent.

Forever (in Ink) by Isidore - Rated M, OT4, soulmates and soul marks. This fic is just a full course meal from start to end.

Pas de Quatre by zelda_zee - Rated E, OT4, incredibly written, clever, gorgeous, stunning, no notes.

Fate Will Bring Us Home by rthecynic - NR, OT4, soulmates and soulmarks in the form of flowers. So, so many flowers! The imagery of this one is just so delightful, and istg one day I'm going to draw them all.

#answered asks #the musketeers #bbc musketeers #musketeers fanfiction #musketeers fic recs #athos x d'artagnan #aramis x porthos #the musketeers ot4 #i wish i knew what happened to my bookmarks #it pains me knowing i missed some really good ones #but this list took me far too long to compile and i can't keep searching rn #if i come across more i'll make another rec post #anyone else feel free to add some of your favs too! #i hope you enjoy fleet!!!! ilu *chu* #now if you'll excuse me #i have a lot of fic to devour so i can update my bookmarks lol

[ourgreatergood]

I posted 545 times in 2022

That's 450 more posts than 2021!

20 posts created (4%)

525 posts reblogged (96%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@cinnamoncountess

@yumbledore

@folklorealbus

@love-arrogance-naivety

@lemon-drops-and-acid-pops

I tagged 82 of my posts in 2022

#grindeldore - 38 posts

#gellert grindelwald - 24 posts

#fb - 22 posts

#nicolas fantastic fanfiction - 21 posts

#hp - 18 posts

#albus dumbledore - 18 posts

#fantastic beasts - 15 posts

#tsod - 11 posts

#nicolas ordinary life - 9 posts

#tsod spoilers - 9 posts

Longest Tag: 67 characters

#i posted this on 4th of july 2019 and just stumbled across it again

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I wrote a little something inspired by Heaven (from the OST of Secrets of Dumbledore) - of course it’s about Albus and Gellert.

It may contain some spoilers for Secrets of Dumbledore, though, so beware!

33 notes - Posted April 9, 2022

#4

if you take angstier prompts: perhaps something with Dumbledore actually being seriously hurt after his battle with Credence/Aurelius, and Grindelwald having some weird angst session about it? (like he still was the one who sent him after Dumbledore with the intent of Dumbledore dying, but when it now becomes a real possibility, he realizes that he really doesnt want him dead?)

Thank you very much! So, I changed the set up a bit because it gave me a reason to explore a theory of mine concerning Gellert’s intentions with Credence, but I tried to capture the gist of Gellert’s angst session! Hope you enjoy! (Also yes, I tried to keep the technicalities of all the magical aspects very vague here bc it would’ve turned too long and honestly I have no idea how everything’s going to work out, either, don’t mind that.)

It was funny how Sight and reality could deviate. When he’d set up the boy to combat Albus he had done so with the conviction that Aurelius would never actually be able to harm Albus. Not clever, powerful Albus. Not Albus, who could shake the world with a flip of his wand. That was exactly why he’d set Credence up to do it.

Hurting Albus physically, magically was almost impossible. (Except for himself, Gellert knew.) But there were a million other ways to hurt a man and Gellert knew all of them and then some more for Albus, simply because he knew him so intimately.

Set up a boy he cares about to fight him. Force him to relive the moment they’d all lost control, yet Gellert was the one to be blamed for. Force him to hurt the boy. All that would do more damage to Albus than any spell ever could, he’d been sure of it.

Of course, he knew that Aurelius would never stand a chance against Albus, despite his vision. Admittedly, he had been curious about how it would play out. How Fate would fit in with the reality he was creating.

He had not expected this, though.

As always, he had forgotten about Albus’s stupid noble heart. Perhaps it was because he could not even imagine the kindness Albus was willing to show that he always underestimated this part of the equation, but once again it had literally blown up in his face.

How in Merlin’s name should he have anticipated that Albus was willing to die for that stupid boy? How could he have imagined that Albus would take the whole blow of the Obscurus and some strange magic Gellert had never seen before but that he was sure Albus had come up with, with the help of Scamander?

Now that his plan had worked out (it hadn’t since this had never really been his plan to begin with) and Fate was seeming to get her way, he realised that he’d been wrong once again. The fear he’d felt, when he’d had that vision was not because of his opponent. It was the cruel, cold fist of fear that was now squeezing his chest at the sight of Albus, pale and motionless and bleeding, lying on the ground, his friends and his brother rushing towards him.

Aurelius, perfectly fine, probably even better than ever before sat on the ground not far from them, dumbstruck at what had happened. It was Aberforth – of course it was – who dared to call out to him and ask if he was all right and Gellert was uncomfortably reminded of a similar afternoon, a lifetime ago it seemed, only that Albus had slipped his hand in his and asked him in a shaky whisper to please, stay and let me explain.

Albus wasn’t moving now. Theseus Scamander was steadily casting Renervate at his chest and Eulalie Hicks was cushioning his bleeding head on her cloak, but nothing happened.

Even from the other side of the plaza he’d felt Albus’s magic vibrating in the air all around them, before. It had been so distinctly familiar that it had almost driven him crazy, but now there was nothing. His own magic was searching, almost desperately, for that familiar trace, for the strings so intricately connected to his own but came up empty.

A feeling unknown to him, like a dark shadow surfacing from the depths of his being, began to rise in his body, constricting his lungs and throat, squeezing his chest, replacing his blood with ice water.

He was constantly surrounded by death these days, he’d told the members of alliance time and again that Albus was the greatest danger to their cause, when he’d been angry, he’d imagined hurting him, but now the prospect of Albus, the only person on this damn earth that it was really worth talking to, the only one, who’d ever been able to understand his mind, the only one, who’d ever known him – gone?

No, he’d never wanted this. He didn’t want this. That stubborn fool couldn’t leave him alone in this shameful world!

If he refused to see how brilliant they could be together for the rest of his damn life, fine, but he couldn’t leave him for good! Albus couldn’t just take his only connection away like that by dying.

He only noticed that his body had started shaking from the tension in his muscles, when Vinda touched his arm, muttering: “We should go.”

“No, wait,” he told her, still observing how Albus’s friends were trying to breathe life back into him. He knew they wouldn’t let him approach them and he couldn’t be seen helping Albus Dumbledore, but all his impulses were pushing him to stride over and pour out all his magic and remind Albus’s blood that it was still bound to earth, bound to life.

“The Aurors will be here soon,” Vinda said. And she was right. They needed to be gone soon, but he couldn’t as long as he wasn’t sure that Albus would live. He watched as Aurelius slowly, carefully stumbled over to the group of people surrounding Albus and for the second time that day he witnessed magic he had never seen before. (He wasn’t sure anyone had seen it before; they were definitely pushing the boundaries of known magical territory.)

He would never understand what it was with phoenixes and the Dumbledores but for a moment he did not care. There was blinding red and gold like a flame and then he could feel the familiar presence of Albus’s magic filling the plaza again, no matter how weak it seemed, and the next moment a dozen Aurors apparated all over the place.

Vinda’s eyes had already widened with fear, when he finally gave her permission to go, following with merely a last glance at Albus’s slowly moving form.

37 notes - Posted March 5, 2022

#3

Promise

This is for @darkangelis, who requested: They meet in secret throughout the war because they can’t stay away from each other but Albus feels so guilty about it he starts to suffer from panic attacks. They normally happen after Gellert has left but one time Albus can’t stop one coming on while he’s still there. Gellert comforts him through it.

I absolutely LOVED writing this, it was very therapeutic and I do love making Albus suffer, so thank you very much for this! I hope you enjoy it!

TW panic attacks

Albus was wondering time and again how he got into all the comfortable hotel rooms in various countries on the continent and in the end he always came up with one simple answer: He wanted to.

He wanted to, even though he knew it was wrong. He wanted to, even though he knew that no decent man would’ve ever done it. He wanted to, even though he despised himself for it.

He never told anyone about it, naturally. Who could he tell? Nobody would understand and the shame he felt over it was so overwhelming that it sealed his lips tightly shut. Perhaps that was the reason for the increasingly severe sessions of discomfort that had started to follow those encounters with Gellert. (Perhaps discomfort was not quite right considering that his throat was so constricted he couldn’t breathe and his body was shaking so much he wasn’t even sure it was his own anymore.)

Back when he’d been eighteen and broken after that summer Nicolas had told him that speaking about it, no matter how hard or impossible it seemed, would relieve him. He’d been right. He’d poured it all out one night, fully expecting Nicolas to tell him what he already knew: that there was something wrong with him. But Nicolas had done no such thing. He’d been kind and understanding and encouraging and somehow that had saved him.

But he wasn’t eighteen anymore and none of this could be blamed on youthful carelessness, on accidents or ignorance. He knew perfectly well who Gellert was and he knew perfectly well what he was doing. Not even Nicolas could tell him there was no shame in that.

He forgot about all that, the moment Gellert kissed him. No matter how much he wanted to deny it, no matter how much he’d tried to suppress it, his heart was longing for it. He was suddenly reminded that his whole being wanted nothing more but to be with Gellert. He remembered everything he’d dreamed of as a boy, of Gellert by his side, of them growing old together. He certainly hadn’t imagined it like this, but if this was all that he would get, he had to take it, no matter how much it hurt him, no matter how wrong it was.

In the beginning a small part of him had hoped that perhaps, Gellert would change his mind, leave his path and return to him, but their irregular meetings continued for more than three decades now and if anything Gellert had become only more determined with his cause.

They weren’t meeting very often, they couldn’t afford it and Albus suspected that the long breaks were doing nothing for his emotional stability. It was always enough time to let him get over the dark pit of guilt and shame and contempt he fell into right after such an encounter. It was even enough time to let him forget how much it hurt every time Gellert left, every time he had to beat himself up afterwards. It was so much time that his heart started missing Gellert again, despite everything. So much time that, when he made a fascinating magical discovery, he instantly thought of sharing it with Gellert until the second passed and reality crept back in that he could not simply tell Gellert about it.

Sometimes this downward spiral was delayed when he heard especially atrocious rumors about what Gellert and his Alliance were doing and he was forcefully reminded of all the blood on Gellert’s hands but even that could not deter him, whenever he found himself faced with a chance encounter or one of Gellert’s subtle invitations. (It was the only dignity he could retain: He would never ask for a meeting, although lately he wasn’t sure anymore if it didn’t make him more pathetic that he came running each time Gellert called.)

Now, though, he found himself once again in a hotel room in a small French village near Versailles (of all places, of course!) with his robe on the floor and Gellert’s hands all over his body.

It was what he would’ve dreamed of at eighteen. A cozy room, a warm summer breeze toying with the curtains leading out to the balcony, a rich country. Foolishly, he’d not imagined a war, he’d not imagined the most powerful wand in the world to have drawn so much blood just the day before Gellert was running it up his leg, vanishing his undergarments.

Gellert’s teeth were grazing the crook of his neck and he felt the thrill of it running through his body, but it was oddly distant. Gellert’s hands and lips on his skin, which had been fire before, emptied his head and had him craving more were suddenly obscured by numbness. Before he knew what was happening, before he could try to do anything about it, his breath was coming in shallow gasps – not of the good kind -, he desperately tried to fill his lungs with oxygen but not air could reach it, his throat was constricted. He could feel his body shaking and tears escaping his eyes, running down his cheeks of their own volition.

“Albus?” He could hear Gellert’s voice, could even recognize the concern in it but he couldn’t speak. His body had forgotten how to obey him, how to do anything but shake with the uncontrollable feeling of dread and doom that was filling out his chest.

“Albus!” Gellert’s hand found his and he could squeeze it, so tightly he was almost worried he could hurt Gellert, but he couldn’t let go. Once his hand had closed around it, it refused any commands his hazy mind might make.

“It’s all right, Albus. Breathe. Slowly.”

Uncontrollable, embarrassing sobs were escaping his mouth as he desperately tried to do as Gellert told him. He tried to get a hold of his breathing again, tried to suck in air slowly.

“Albus. You’re safe, you’re all right. Breathe in and out. In and out.” Gellert was squeezing his hand back, while he was slowly succeeding in slowing down his breathing. “Hey, do you remember the first time we met? You had the tale of the three brothers memorized… There were once three brothers who were traveling along a lonely, winding road at twilight.”

“In time, the brothers reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across,” his mind supplied automatically. He could feel the tears subside and his body stopped shaking. “However, these brothers were learned in the magical arts, and so they simply waved their wands and made a bridge appear across the treacherous water.” He could feel Gellert’s hand in his again, the room came into focus again and with it Gellert’s face. His body was listening to him again. He loosened the grip on Gellert’s hand and drew a few shaky but controlled breaths before he slowly sat up.

Gellert pulled the sheets over them and leaned back against the headrest of the bed, while Albus ran his hands over his face and tried to collect the rest of his sanity.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. He felt drained like all energy had been plucked from his body. Here he was now, in a hotel room in France, naked with Europe’s most wanted man next to him and all he wanted was to be somewhere else, to be someone else. He could feel tears rising in his throat again and closed his eyes. It was embarrassing enough to have been so vulnerable in front of Gellert once today, he could not bear a second time. But Merlin, he was sure that this war, that Gellert, that his own despicable traitorous heart would break what he’d tried to put back together years ago.

“Don’t be. Did I do anything – ?” Gellert asked.

He took the hands from his face and shook his head and he almost had to laugh. “No.” He turned his head to look at Gellert, who was watching him curiously (he even imagined there was still a concerned spark in his eyes). “No, it was nothing you did. This just – happens sometimes.”

Of course, it was everything Gellert did outside of this room, outside of this bed. Of course, it was everything Albus didn’t do. It was everything he did do with Gellert. He leaned back against the headrest as well. They wouldn’t be doing a lot today, at least.

“It wasn’t always this bad,” Gellert said and he was right. When he’d been younger, there had been occasions when it had been hard to breathe, when he’d felt similar dread take over his body and he’d taken to recounting magical laws and literature in his head to get through it, but it had been controllable.

“No, that is a recent development,” he sighed.

“Why do you think that is?”

See the full post

40 notes - Posted March 6, 2022

#2

if you take anon prompts, how about Gellert realizing his feelings for Albus? Perhaps he previously though he only wanted to manipulate Albus to make him stay, but suddenly he realizes that his feelings actually are real ones.

Thank you very much! I am taking anon prompts, always feel free to send them! :) this turned into a bit of a character study for Gellert, but I do hope you enjoy it!

It was fascinating. Albus was the most brilliant person in the world. His mind was sharp and precise like a razor blade, yet vast and creative and unconventional. He was the only person really worth talking to, if one was to ask Gellert. And he was so magnificently powerful, too. The way Albus did magic, felt magic was the most beautiful, intriguing spectacle Gellert had ever witnessed. Magic flowed through Albus like blood, he directed the matter around him effortlessly, he altered the earth with a flick of his wrist, he took the most ancient incantations and made them his own.

Albus was everything he had never dreamed to find. An equal in mind and might. Someone he’d never thought could even exist.

It was dazzling, thrilling, that he had chosen a path of fate that led him right to Albus. It was exactly what his plans had needed, without his knowing. What the world had needed.

And yet Albus was so different. He had a warm, noble heart and a kind soul, so much that Gellert sometimes wondered how a mind like his could bear the confinement of his virtue. For all his brooding and rightful bitterness that came with the duty of caring for his siblings, he sternly refused any talk of abandoning them. Albus was patient with even the most dimwitted of people (Gellert was sure that Aberforth was the only one to ever successfully push him into losing his temper.) and he tried to see light in even the darkest of people. Muggles had ripped his family apart and yet, he did not harbor any intimate rancour against them.

Gellert would have thought it foolish if it hadn’t been Albus. He could not say that he agreed with Albus’s gentleness, but he knew that he didn’t have to, anyway. Their plans remained the same and he was more than happy to let Albus care for the muggles in their scheme, while he cared for wizardkind. That’s what they did after all - complement each other. That was why they would change the world for the better, they would create a world for all of humanity. They bore that responsibility together. For The Greater Good, as Albus had so fittingly put it.

He had to admit it took him a few days longer than it usually did to notice the way Albus was looking at him. Not because Albus was very good at hiding it. He was not. Actually, for such a private person, for all the secrecy he’d lived with since he was a young child, for someone with such rhetoric skill - he was exceptionally bad at hiding his affection.

No, he merely had been so caught up in his own admiration for Albus that he hadn’t realized what the faint nervous flutter of Albus’s magic meant, whenever they were especially caught up in an intense debate. Or the lingering stares or the more frequent excuses to touch, however innocently. It was by accident (almost) that he discovered Albus was a lot more lenient with his more forceful suggestions, when they were touching while discussing them (even if it was only their knees brushing, or his arm on the headrest of Albus’s chair).

He respected Albus more than anybody else, so he was reluctant to use this advantage too often. And he was also aware that while Albus was even more willing than usual to see brightness in him, where he was sure was only dark, Albus was no fool and would not simply be played.

He had to admit it sent a very pleasant rush of power through him to have the single other most powerful wizard of their time at his fingertips, willing to be pushed, surrendering control to him. He was sure, Albus was inclined to do anything (almost anything) he would ask of him.

And yet, he had to wonder, why he was so reluctant to play those strings of Albus’s heart whenever the opportunity arose. He’d discovered that a simple kiss could make Albus forget about a lot of admonitions and yet he had rather spent an evening discussing the morales and necessities of the Imperius curse.

Later that night in bed, he examined his uncharacteristic hesitancy and all he could stumble upon were Albus’s crystal blue eyes that shone with so much warmth and affection that it sent an odd sensation right to his stomach.

He had never considered… any of his feelings, really. He got angry sometimes, furious, so much that hot rage was the only thing to fill his body and he had to act on his impulses then. He felt dread when he could feel a vision nearing and often even afterwards. He felt excitement and triumph, when he accomplished academic goals or succeeded in overcoming a particularly difficult problem. Rarely, he could even feel his pride, most prominently, when it had taken a blow.

But apart from that?

He knew that Albus had fallen in love with him, but he had never stopped to consider what it felt like to be loved by the only human he admired.

He thought of Albus’s warmth again. Of the twinkling of his eyes, of the tenderness with which his fingertips had traced the lines on his hand only yesterday. He thought of the pleasure of being so thoroughly understood that he sometimes felt like his mind was directly connected to Albus’s. He thought of the strange new desire that had overcome him to feel Albus’s lips on his the other day.

He had never felt like that for anyone.

It was an early evening, when he realized that, despite his certainty that love, which had been oustandingly absent from his life until then, was not for him - perhaps, Albus would show him yet another kind of magic.

They knew each other three weeks now, of which they had spent every possible second in each other’s company and had filled their absence with a steady flow of letters. He felt like he knew Albus inside out and the only topic he had ever expressed reluctance for was divination.

Yet, when Gellert collapsed in the middle of his room, in the middle of an animated discussion with a vision, that was so forceful he had no chance to control it in any way, Albus caught him.

He didn’t ask stupid questions. He didn’t try to stop him from shaking with dread after icy fear had been the dominant theme of his vision. Albus didn’t doubt him, not even for a second.

He held him until the shaking stopped and listened to what he’d seen with a very serious, very thoughtful expression.

“What do you think?” He asked, perhaps a little harshly and Albus blinked. He knew he’d dragged him out of a very complex thought process, but Gellert knew that Fate and Sight did not work systemically as he’d liked it and he didn’t need Albus trying to figure out what could not be figured out yet.

“I think that I want to be there, whenever this happens to you again. I hope I can be there,” Albus said, squeezing his hand, almost as if he was making a request.

Something shifted then. It wasn’t magic, at least he thought it wasn’t, but he noticed clearly that strings inside him vibrated and wove together that he hadn’t known before. Somehow his chest was filled with emotions that wanted to spill out of him and the only one that he could recognize was relief. He hadn’t even known he’d feared Albus’s rejection of this part of him he knew he would understand the least. But now that Albus was looking at him only with love and worry and a little bit of wonder, the overwhelming desire to kiss him, overcame him again.

Kiss him, drown in him, become one with him. He’d never felt the urge to be so close to someone before. He’d never felt his heart beating like that before. He’d never felt so complete before.

And he knew that he wanted to be with Albus for the rest of his life. He simply, purely wanted it for the sake of his beating heart.

47 notes - Posted February 25, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Okay, since I wrote that long rant about how I imagine Albus being neurodivergent (more specially autistic and suffering from anxiety) and how it’s always prevalent in my mind, whenever I write him, I’m also sharing it on here:

‪I think it’s especially apparent in his relationship with his siblings (apart from the whole world calling him “eccentric” multiple times), but I always imagine that Aberforth (who I imagine to be incredibly empathetic) is very good with ‬Ariana bc they’re just well neurotypical kids (until Ariana’s incident) and Albus is - well - not. Always caught up in books, which to me, read: hyperfixation, which other kids consider weird and which adults consider adorable up to a point where he seems to be almost anti social bc he is so caught up in his mind that he doesn’t play with the other kids (I magine Kendra to be very ambiguous here too, very proud of her ‘gifted child’ but also at dinner she’d say things like “don’t you have anything else to talk about but that fairy tale?”, “you should go and play with the other kids more often” and he’d say “yes mother”, but really he’d feel very much like an alien in his own home) and Aberforth is just accepting him the way he is, he’s the one, who punches other kids, if they make fun of his weird brother, he’s the one, who listens to Albus’s ramblings about the three brothers even though he doesn’t care about it

And then Ariana is attacked and everythings falls apart and Aberforth is so good with Ariana bc he is just good at accepting people the way they are and Albus is terrified bc even with healthy people he always seems to say the wrong stuff at the wrong time, how is he supposed to interact with Ariana, who seems to have a breakdown at the littlest thing?

And then he goes to school and he’s brilliant and admired and suddenly his gift and power outweighs his eccentricities and he is kind and friendly and polite enough that people like him and his friends are nice and also he’s learned that people don’t want to hear hour long deliberations about fairy tales or dragons or magic, no matter how fascinating he finds it, he has learned the technicalities of lying, of keeping secrets, of holding back, not only because Mother told him to, but also because not revealing his true self was usually the best option, bc no matter how nice people seemed, they still made him feel alien one way or another, wether that is because he talked a little too much about transfiguration, because he can’t stop his leg from bouncing bc he doesn’t even notice but other people do and they find it annoying or simply bc as much as they don’t understand him, he doesn’t get what they’re on about either with their parties and ever changing love interests and gossip, but he learns to seem interested

I also imagine him learning legilimency initially in hopes to understand the people around him more, to connect with his family more, but it ultimately ends up (mostly) with people being annoyed bc he’s looking into their heads

And Aberforth, obviously also very much burdened by the fate of the family and angry about pretty much everything bc what are they even doing? Does love his brother and he knows how he is, but he also needs his older brother and he really has zero nerves to spare and Ariana needs his care while Albus seems to be sufficiently great at school and he really doesn’t understand why it’s so difficult for Albus to be good at school but not good at home, when they all love him

And then Mother dies and Gellert arrives and Gellert is the first and only person, who doesn’t make him feel like an alien, he actually likes to hear Albus’s thoughts, even for hours on end on the same topic (the Hallows for one, Gellert can talk about just as much, so he doesn’t even feel guilty or like a burden, bc he can actually believe he is not too much for Gellert) and how incredible is that? And Gellert is understanding, Gellert knows how his mind works bc his is the same! And what he’s feeling for Gellert is amazing but also so overwhelming and he really cannot focus on his siblings’ needs, which are a whole different can of worms (here comes in anxiety bc how in the name of Merlin is he supposed to manage that? And change is hard anyway and he’d just planned this whole tour and it should have been him shining and all, how everyone has always predicted and he really doesn’t want to be responsible bc he also not good at it, but magic, that’s what he’s good at)

48 notes - Posted March 12, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

[yennefer]

Which season of the Witcher do you like more? Season 1 or season 2? Personally I liked season 1 more. Mostly because I feel that the whole atmosphere of season 2 was very "rushed" and the decisions Lauren made was once again a failure. And when I say rushed I mean the writing and probably the production as well. The pandemic, production delays and Henry's injury etc etc did cause setbacks but regardless in my opinion season 2 not only falls flat in comparison, but it's also very messy.

i had such high hopes for s2. i absolutely loved the sets, the costumes... everything looked like an improvement from s1. especially the nilfgaard armor lmao. but as far as the plot goes.... s2 started off so much better than s1 imo. it felt more like the books, if that makes sense? it even felt like playing the games at times (mostly ciri training at kaer morhen). now i'm not a book purist by any means, but the storyline they gave yennefer is where they first lost me. it's almost as if they didn't know what to do with her character, which is a shame because i really liked her storyline from s1. but i probably could've gotten over that if not for the deathless mother storyline. yennefer was definitely OOC in my opinion, i don't think yen from the books or the games would have ever entertained the idea of sacrificing ciri for her magic back. even if she didn't really know ciri at this point, i think with the love and respect she has for geralt she would not have even entertained the idea and found some other way. and yennefer is clever. and also not very trusting unless you're worthy of that trust. she would've never trusted the deathless mother's intentions. the whole arc was just very tropey? i guess? like 80s fantasy tropey. it's been a while since i read the books but i instantly knew this was something they pulled out of their ass bc it showed. i'm not against changing things to make it fit the medium better (pj did that for lord of the rings and it's still my favorite adaptation of anything ever), but i honestly hated the changes they made. i would have preferred more of yen teaching ciri and developing that relationship more while geralt and jaskier are off finding out more about rience and his employer like in the books. and of course setting up the big events that happen in time of contempt. but idk, maybe they wanted something more dramatic for the season finale and are holding off on that stuff for s3. *shrug*

so tl;dr ... s2 started off really strong to me, but i prefer s1 because that's how much i hated the ending of s2.

#anonymous #answered #the witcher #long post

[boltcuttersfetched-archive]

curious....do you think the duffers are clever/strategic enough to earn credit for half of the theories this fandom has about the show? i keep thinking we're reading too much into stuff and they're kind of going with the flow more than they are elaborate geniuses but i feel like i'm the only one

the thing about the duffers is that they're fucking crazy. they put SO MUCH DETAIL into this show. prepare yourselves for an info dump because when it comes to this show i go full x-files. the fox mulder kinnie clown shoes are ON.

for example they use a lot of number symbolism. hopper comes home at 5:15 and 5 + 1 + 5 = 11. el takes the 422 bus down to meet kali. 4 + 2 +2 = 8.

they also use music as symbolism and will go as far as to be historically inaccurate in order to accomplish that. moby's "when it's cold i'd like to die", which plays both during eddie's death and when joyce and hopper find will in s1, didn't come out until 1995. and hmmm after that happened in s1, will became a SPY for vecna/henry/001 so like. hmmmmmmmmmm. what does it all mean.

another favorite music symbolism moment of mine is the use of duran duran's "girls on film" during the s2 halloween party. it's the night that steve and nancy fall apart, and johnathan swoops in; the first time stancy slept together, jonathan took a picture of her. SHE WAS HIS GIRL ON FILM.

there's even little details in the setting. like in eddie's room, he has a poster for iron maiden's somewhere in time and there's graffiti in the far right corner that says EDDIE LIVES.

there's also some pretty heavy kas symbolism in season 4? erica is painting a tiny figure of him. hopper uses a sword that looks almost identical to the sword of kas, and eddie uses a similar shield. also a few of eddie's tattoos all circle back to 001: the spider on his chest and the puppet master on his arm in particular. (ALSO important to note that the six bats on his arm were explicitly chosen to represent STEVE and his NUGGETS which makes me feel sick to my stomach.) he also has a vampire skull ring.

what i'm trying to get at is that I Want To Believe that the duffers are smart. i could wax poetic about every teeny tiny detail in this show for the rest of my life, and i want to believe that they're all very intentional. i totally understand thinking that they're just rolling with stuff, and that very well could be the case! i just really hope that it's not, bc otherwise WHY did they sprinkle in so many of these details? idk i feel crazy i'm foaming at the mouth.

#ask #stranger things meta #bybia

[hidingoutbackstage]

omg ok i tried to watch all hallows eve once bc it was the first movie to have art the clown in it and i just. could not finish it bc something about it felt very very misogynistic and uncomfortable to me 😭😭

AND YOU WERE RIGHT TO DO THAT. I HOPE YOU STOPPED BEFORE THE END OF THE FIRST SHORT FILM AND IF YOU DIDN’T THEN I REALLY REALLY REALLY HOPE YOU STOPPED BEFORE THE END OF THE FINAL SHORT FILM BECAUSE OH MY GD IF Y’ALL THOUGHT THE BIFURCATION OF A WOMAN STARTING WITH HER VAGINA WHILE SHE DANGLED COMPLETELY NAKED AND TIED UP IN THE FIRST TERRIFIER WAS BAD. DUDE.

Okay I’m gonna take a sec to gather my thought but holy fuck. This movie is so bad and it tried to make up for it in shock factor but it didn’t work AT all. You’re right about the misogyny. Jesus christ. Gimme a sec to put it all down

Okay so like I said this movie fucking SCREAMS “baby’s first feature length movie” because it rlly is just that amateur. Leone wrote, directed, and edited this movie, and it shows. The whole thing is incredibly formulaic, it feels like every slasher ever, beat by beat. I could predict literally every scare, even when moments were the “nothing happens and that’s the jumpscare” jumpscare lol. Nothing in this surprised me except the ending of the third short film and that’s just because I didn’t expect them to go as far as they did but everything else was so painfully un-special. Sound effects were overused SO much, there was a lot of blending of shots that very noticeably did not directly lead from one to the other even though that was the intention (things like characters having noticeably different body language and expressions between cuts) the framing was often off, like the shot was cropped when editing and not meant to be framed that way, nothing interesting was ever done with the camera, the score was way overplayed, and the fact that Leone just straight up put his short films, mostly unedited, right into his feature length movie just felt fucking lazy.

The writing was also atrocious. Character dialogue that was awful and not even delivered in a fun or clever way (but I mean what else to expect from Damien Leone) and actions that were just done to create creepy moments or service the plot, all feeling disingenuous. The setup for an anthology was flimsy and ridiculous. The “plot” was a jumbled mess. And so on and so forth. I didn’t like it.

Also watching this movie after watching the Terrifier movies just makes me realize how much Leone was just taking literally every Art the Clown moment from his previous work and making it feature length with the Terrifier series. Moments like Art getting kicked out of [place] for shitting on the wall and leaving in a huff only to come back and cut the guy’s head off, or sitting across from a woman in a public place and creeping her out/harassing her, stalking women in creepy corridors, tearing a woman’s face off, appearing in a man’s dreams so he’ll paint him, attacking and attempting to kill children, being immortal despite something that should’ve killed him, and VICIOUS torture against kidnapped women, it’s all just taken blatantly from this movie.

And when it comes to the misogyny, yes. Definitely. Absolutely. The first short film that the kids watch has women being harassed, kidnapped killed, tortured, and has a pregnant woman’s baby cut out of her belly and a cup placed below her…y’know, so her blood can drip into it, and then the woman who watched that happen is then raped by the devil. And somehow that first film isn’t even the worst offender, but don’t worry we’ll get to that.

Anyway, the rest all follow the slasher formula of “a woman is being chased by a man so we just see a woman in pain/peril for the majority of the runtime” and that formula itself is misogynistic (sorry I’ve been finishing up Men Women and Chain Saws lol) and it just feels very gratuitous and exploitative. I get that this subgenre of horror movies that Leone is imitating all follow that formula, but jfc don’t try to follow it THAT closely.

Also Leone is clearly a horror fan, but that means any average horror fan is sick of this nonsense. The kid’s mother is named Barbara. They’re watching Night of the Living Dead on the tv. Another character mentions how dangerous it is to babysit kids on Halloween. The little girl blatantly says that the clown being a human under the costume makes him scarier than a monster. We fucking get it, Leone, you are preaching to the choir.

Okay and the by far worst misogyny, I am not going to include an image, because I genuinely gasped out loud seeing this, so I’ll simply describe it. So the main girl who’s been getting harassed all night by Art is finally kidnapped and wakes up on some table surrounded by bloody medical equipment. Immediately I notice that she’s shirtless despite the camera not showing below her collar bone, and I start to get nervous. Finally, after a lot of teasing us, the camera shows what happened to her body. Art has cut off all four of her limbs and sewed the stumps back up, he has cut off her boobs (including the nipples) and stitched them back up, and carved the words “pig” “bitch” “slut” and “cunt” into her skin, and they’re still bleeding. Also the girl (who doesn’t have a name, the credits call her “costume designer” bc her character mentions that that’s her job) is completely naked, and yes. Her vagina is fully out. That must’ve been really important for Leone to include. For normal reasons, I’m sure. I’m sure it was just because that’s scary and no other reason

And I cannot emphasize enough, the movie is fucking BAD. Don’t watch it. It isn’t worth it even to see the origins of Art the Clown, who, speaking of, looks fucking dumb in this movie. I’ll just leave you with that

#sid answers #sid bitches

[jiminrings]

Literally got no feedback just love love and more love for you dear Author 💜💜

You’ve beautifully depicted how there are all kinds of people in the world and the way they choose to love. OC, Jungkook and Yoongi all with their own ways of loving the other.

Poor Jungkook just couldn’t catch a break in the latest chapter, with one blow followed soon by the other. He’s all alone dealing with all of it, I really hope OC comforts him for the things he had no faults in creating like the scandal or the previous history between the two. He’s keeping all his hurt below hers and I’m the one whose heart is breaking 😭

Anyhow, going back to my re reading of all your releases chapters. Specifically going slow over the parts that I know hurt so good 😶🫠 I’ve never re read stories like I do with yours.

You are fantastic with your words, clever with the unfurling of your events and intentional with all the little mentions. Have I already told you about my love for your writings? Looking forward to new updates and new stories from your end always 💜

this means the world to me you have no idea 🤎🤎 oc's love remains constant and although i've written that yoongi's love language is most similar to hers, it doesn't invalidate jungkook's love at all bc it's his that oc yearns for the most <3 oc will comfort him soon pls don't worry!! thank you for being here w all ur love <3 sending all my love to you <3

#answered #mass answered #478 feed #love mail

[janetsnakehole02]

Okay my friend (the same one whose 10 year old brother ranted about Loki) is a digital artist who’s been creating digital art of all the Eternals - she actually did my old Thena profile pic :) not disclosing her name for privacy reasons but she’s working on Druig right now and she noticed something on his suit, here it is for reference:

If you watched the movie you know that one of Druig’s most defining traits is his desire for peace between the humans and he’s always wanted to interfere to stop them from killing each other, which pretty much comes to a head in Tenochtitlan. And my friend noticed THIS detail on his suit:

Yes, those are two peace signs. She said she hasn’t had to draw those for Kingo, Thena, or Makkari’s suits so far (those are the ones she’s done with) and none of the other Eternals have this on their suits either. WAS THIS INTENTIONAL CHLOÉ???? Because if so WELL DONE MA’AM

#i swear my friend and her brother are gonna take over the world #i really hope this was intentional bc it’s so clever #druig my beloved #druig #druig eternals #barry keoghan #eternals #the eternals #marvel eternals #chloe zhao #marvel #mcu #mcu phase 4 #mcu fanart #marvel fanart #eternals fanart #druig fanart #marvel meta #mcu meta #eternals meta

[goddessofroyalty]

Please God, Goddess give us a drabble about Jayce and Viktor post divorce with their kid. Maybe Jayce coming back to his lab early and seeing Herald Viktor and the skrimble playing?? Something sweet but also absolutely heartwrenching?? If you don't want to write it BC it doesn't have mpreg than I understand, in that case do we (the general public) have permission to steal this idea and write about it ourselves?

In avoiding naming the kid I managed to instead get what I hope seems like a clever narrative thing. Hopefully.

Tags: divorce era

---------------

There’s a cry from the lab and Jayce assumes it means Viktor had left.

If he had of known that Viktor was still there he wouldn’t have gone to return.

Really, he wouldn’t have.

He hadn’t any of the other times he knew Viktor had broken into his lab while Jayce was distracted by some Councilor demanding an update or another fan wanting to quiz him about his work. Instead always dragging the conversation out until he hears Viktor slip out or their son start to cry once he realizes he is without either of his parents.

“I know – legs can be so frustrating when they do not do as you want them to.”

Jayce immediately freezes when he hears Viktor’s voice. The door only half-open but enough for him to see the shadows of the occupants cast against the wall. Their son in Viktor’s arms being soothed after what Jayce assumes had been a fall.

“It is always going to be frustrating when you face a setback but you will never find success if you do not persevere,” Viktor tells their son. The shadows moving as he gets their son back on his feet, large hands cupping small ones as their son finds his balance again.

Jayce wonders what those hands feel like. If there is any of the flesh he memorized the contours of left or if it had all been replaced by synthetic materials.

Whatever it feels like seems fine to their son. A gleeful sound filling the air as the shadow on the wall takes unsteady steps, secure in the knowledge his father is there to catch him if he stumbles again.

Viktor must have done something to his back to be able to walk bent over their son like he is.

The engineer in Jayce wants to know what. What Viktor used to replicate the human spine. Whether he merely added additional support around what was already there or replaced it completely. But he knows he lost the right to know what is happening with Viktor’s body. That he lost the right to all the ideas that come from Viktor’s mind.

The shadows cross the room at the speed of a child’s fumbling footsteps.

“Where are you leading me?” Viktor asks right before their son flops forward.

Jayce braces for tears again but instead the boy just keeps moving. The change of locomotion style apparently intentional. The newer, novel walking abandoned to the mastered crawling.

Jayce has to shut the door more when their son leads Viktor past it so Viktor doesn’t realize he is watching.

Because Jayce is afraid if Viktor finds out he knows about his visits they will cease entirely.

Because Jayce wants their son to still have a relationship with Viktor despite what happened between his parents.

Because Jayce’s heart still skips a beat when Viktor passes into the limited view Jayce has of the room. Even though Viktor has his back to the door and the Undercity clothes he is wearing cover him entirely from Jayce’s gaze.

Jayce can’t help but wonder if Viktor looks the same under it. Wonder how many, if any, of the rumors about what Viktor is doing to himself down in his new home were true. Wonders if he would still recognize the Viktor he knew in the Viktor that now is.

Their son doesn’t struggle to recognize Viktor. But he has the innocent love of a child to help his memory.

“Ah,” Viktor says, breaking Jayce from his thoughts. That sound of realization used to be a part of his everyday life as they worked to build their dream.

Or perhaps worked to build Jayce’s dreams as it turned out. Viktor abounding them to return to his people, apparently unsatisfied with the achievements they had made together.

“Is this yours?” Viktor asks as their son settles in front of the block sorting toy Mel had gifted him with a joke about how what Jayce did was just the more complicated version, finding how things fit into one another until the job was done.

Jayce had tried to keep it from being too obvious that it left him proud that it was clearly his son’s favorite toy.

One block is offered up to Viktor and Jayce thinks he might have maybe caught a glance of his former partner’s hand when he accepts the block from their son. It seems black from what Jayce caught so perhaps Viktor had replaced flesh for steel. Or maybe he is just wearing gloves. Or maybe it was just how the shadow cast over it.

Their son picks up another block and shoves it against the various holes of the box, trying to find the right one. It almost seeming like he is trying to show Viktor how it is done.

Viktor chuckles at it.

Jayce finds himself hoping it is because he came to the same conclusion about their son’s motive.

“Here,” Viktor says, reaching out to gently take their son’s hand. The cloak he is wearing goes with denying Jayce’s any sight of him. “It may have served your father’s needs but not every problem is best solved by forcing the first idea you have on it.”

Jayce wants to defend himself. To point out that it isn’t at all how he is.

But he knows to do that would reveal he is there and that he has been silently watching the two of them. And that what little trust Viktor may still have in him would be eroded the instant he did.  

So he stays and watches as Viktor gently helps their son slot the block into the box. Returning the one their son gave to him and helping him find that slot as well.

“Considered acts are much more effective,” Viktor explains before his voice turns bitter. “At least when we are afforded the time for consideration.”

Jayce tries not to overthink the words. Tries not to think about how sudden everything felt in their last days together, both in their relationship and the world. He pushes it all away to just watch as their son works away at his toy with Viktor’s help. Doesn’t think about how he’s had to steal this moment of watching Viktor and their child.

Viktor glances towards the windows once all the blocks are in.

“I have to go. Your father will be back any moment.”

Jayce wants to interrupt again. Tell Viktor it is fine, he can stay a little longer, spend all the time with their child he wants.

Instead he watches his son watch his other father leave. Confusion giving way to sadness.

Jayce waits a minute after he hears the window click shut before entering the room. Scooping up his son right as the tears start to fall.

“It’s alright, daddy’s got you,” Jayce promises, bouncing his son to help him settle. “You still have daddy.”

And maybe one day Jayce will forgive himself for driving Viktor away from them both.

#Jayvik #vikjayce #jayce x viktor #jayce arcane #jayce/viktor #viktor arane #divorce era #Anon prompt #prompt fill #prompt fic

[stutterfly]

Swipe Right 04 | Patch Notes | JJK (M)

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader, brot7 x friendship

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

Word Count: 15.1K

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

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

Series: Activate your SIMCard

Fic: Swipe Right (4/?- Ongoing)

Do not repost.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook: Surprised you didn’t block me

You: Don’t worry I’m gonna

Jungkook: it’s bc you wanna know huh

You: ???

Jungkook: Your legs

Jungkook: Like oreos

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

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

You: I wish I could unread 🤢

Jungkook: Aw but that’s one of my favorites

Jungkook: Just like you 😘

You: 🙄

You: I hate you so much

Jungkook: So much that you matched with me?

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

Jungkook: You’re still here which means 👀

You: It means I’m tired

Jungkook: Of?

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

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

Jungkook: I’m good with my fingers 🥴

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

You: You know what? I want you

FUCK. Goddamn you, sausage fingers.

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

Jungkook: 😈

Jungkook: My place

Jungkook: Ten minutes

You: *to stay off my profile

Jungkook: 👉👌?

You: YOU KNOW I DIDN’T MEAN THAT

You: 🤢🤢🤢

Jungkook: 😩

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

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

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

Jungkook: Ouch felt that from here

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

Jungkook: Hey quick question

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He forgot.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened? Did he hurt you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Zip up your hoodie.”

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

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

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

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

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

Even he knows that argument is flimsy.

“Guk.”

“It was always just a joke.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not every girl is a Jiseo, Jungkook.”

“Yeah.”

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

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

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With beef?” you ask with a sniffle.

“With beef,” he agrees.

“Gyoza?”

“Mhm.”

“And takoyaki?”

“...You’re pushing it.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

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

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

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

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

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

"Wow. Are you guys on a date?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? When?”

“The other day. We hung out.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You guys talked about me?”

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

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

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

“No one likes clickbait, Joon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N.”

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

“We allowed to talk about Jason?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

JUNGKOOK: Don’t worry

JUNGKOOK: I got u

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, really it’s okay.” You laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Um, how about... tempura?"

"Banana?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, really?”

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

“I’ve been a dick.”

“No shit.”

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

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

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

“You don’t say.”

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

“I never wanted to hurt your feelings.”

“Well, you did,” you mumble.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For real.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyebrows rise into your hairline. “Really.”

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

“I want that in writing,” you snort.

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

“Jungkook, you don’t have to—”

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

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

Princess

I’m sorry. I can make it right.

I promise. Please give me another chance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N was telling me why she’s sad.”

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

“Joonie—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

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

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

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

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

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

It’s also kind of cute.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, that’s mine!” he pouts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like, full body?”

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

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

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

“Which one?”

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

“Princess… Did you join Iron Kingdom?”

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

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

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

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I hear a pop.”

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

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

“Oh no. Knees?”

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

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

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

“Uhh…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N.exe has stopped working.

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

“Princess! Are you… checking me out?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hesitate when he quickly quirks a brow.

“I think… A lot.”

“Definitely accurate,” he says with a grin.

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

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

“So…” he begins.

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

“I was thinking. About that guy…”

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

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

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

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

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

It's cry hours, isn’t it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's late. I should sleep."

Or masturbate.

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

"Whoa. You okay?"

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

"Hmm. What do you need, princess?"

"Just wanna stop spinning."

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

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

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

“You gonna make it there?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Princess?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Are you gonna make it, princess? he wonders.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Night,” you mumble.

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

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

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[floweroflaurelin]

Hi two questions because me and a friend are arguing about it

1) is Pearl smiling or no. I think she is but my friend says she’s neutral

2) did you intentionally model Pixlriffs after modern depictions of Jesus of Nazareth bc my friend thinks you did and you’re making an intentional statement about his character

Hahaha awww you’re arguing about lil ol’ me? That’s what I like to hear 😇

1) Is Pearl smiling or neutral? Pearl’s expression is one of kindness with a hint of satisfied tiredness from a successful day working out in the sun. (Besides having abundant freckles, her cheeks, nose and shoulders have a hint of a sunburn.) She’s relaxed here, but her lips even when largely neutral have a natural up-turn on the corners. (My little sister has the same thing!) She’s not deliberately smiling like Jimmy is, but she’s not completely neutral either… Hope this helps 😚😉

2) Is Pix intentionally modelled after Jesus? No, not really. Statement about his character? Yeah! I did design him to look like a wise and spiritual leader from a desert climate, and to make that read quickly I borrowed elements from Prince of Egypt’s Moses—the length of the hair, the shape of the beard on the jaw. However, my Copper King is white with a tanned, olivey skin tone—and so with those two facts combined you do pretty much get a lot of modern Jesus interpretations 😂 I’m a Muslim and genuinely don’t know a lot about Christianity but if I was gonna design my own modern Jesus, he’d probably look a lot like my Copper King portrait does hahahaha

Some more fun facts about my Pix design: I wanted to emphasize both that his eyes have seen a lot and also that there’s mischief in the slight curve of his lips. He’s wearing kohl around his eyes because desert, and this helps to draw the corners of his eyes downwards, as though heavy from the weight of what he’s seen and done as keeper of the Vigil. As well, his eyes have more highlights in them to draw you in, but unlike Pearl there’s no black pupil defined in the dark blue! Mysterious but sharp eyes, since the Copper King is spiritual and clever. However, he also loves pranks and messing with people and playing practical jokes, so there’s a bit of a wry and more youthful upturn to his lip that keeps him from looking sorrowful or fully weighted down from responsibility. I’ve seen a few people in the tags noticing that, and it makes me really happy!

I could talk about little details in my designs all day so if you’re ever arguing again please do come let me know, I love talking about myself and also sowing conflict 😍😍

#ask #anon #pearlescentmoon #pixlriffs

[eyeofthemoongame]

hello! i want to ask if it's considered wrong to think of modern AU with the characters since they are deities? it's just that, sometimes i imagine them in today's society (for funsies,,, like how they would interact using social medias), and i want to know what's okay and not okay..

hi anon! i took some time to reflect on this because i wanted to make sure i provide a thoughtful answer.

my gut response regarding modern AUs—specifically referring to the common fandom practice of copy/pasting characters into the 2020s—is that i'm not really comfortable with them.

the point of eotm's setting is to escape into a world that hasn't been colonized. so unless modern!AU headcanons intend a world where the archipelago (because the concept of "the philippines" as a homogenous country is in and of itself colonialistic) was never colonized or occupied by spain, japan, the US, etc. then it would be ignorant of and disrespectful to the intent of the story.

i actually do really think that imagining a decolonized modern world with fantasy elements in it would be really fun and also freeing so i encourage that! what would manila be like in modern times if it wasn't a commandeered seat for corrupt government? what kinds of advancements would people have made by now if the islands' indigenous cultures weren't purposefully erased?

there's also some creative space to explore what "social media" could be in eotm's current setting. i can see tala rearranging constellations as a clever callout to someone that annoyed her, or making the stars shine brighter above duma's mountain to tell him to wipe the frown off his face bc she's on her way home to him soon.

all in all, i'm glad that my story has inspired you to engage with it. i hope this answer doesn't dissuade you from continuing to do so but rather gives you ideas to expand how you think about stories, characters, and worlds intentionally set outside of the west's colonial, imperial, and capitalist society.

#asks #anoncognito #faq #please don't give eotm the lore olympus treatment y'all LMAO

[ourgreatergood]

if you take angstier prompts: perhaps something with Dumbledore actually being seriously hurt after his battle with Credence/Aurelius, and Grindelwald having some weird angst session about it? (like he still was the one who sent him after Dumbledore with the intent of Dumbledore dying, but when it now becomes a real possibility, he realizes that he really doesnt want him dead?)

Thank you very much! So, I changed the set up a bit because it gave me a reason to explore a theory of mine concerning Gellert’s intentions with Credence, but I tried to capture the gist of Gellert’s angst session! Hope you enjoy! (Also yes, I tried to keep the technicalities of all the magical aspects very vague here bc it would’ve turned too long and honestly I have no idea how everything’s going to work out, either, don’t mind that.)

It was funny how Sight and reality could deviate. When he’d set up the boy to combat Albus he had done so with the conviction that Aurelius would never actually be able to harm Albus. Not clever, powerful Albus. Not Albus, who could shake the world with a flip of his wand. That was exactly why he’d set Credence up to do it.

Hurting Albus physically, magically was almost impossible. (Except for himself, Gellert knew.) But there were a million other ways to hurt a man and Gellert knew all of them and then some more for Albus, simply because he knew him so intimately.

Set up a boy he cares about to fight him. Force him to relive the moment they’d all lost control, yet Gellert was the one to be blamed for. Force him to hurt the boy. All that would do more damage to Albus than any spell ever could, he’d been sure of it.

Of course, he knew that Aurelius would never stand a chance against Albus, despite his vision. Admittedly, he had been curious about how it would play out. How Fate would fit in with the reality he was creating.

He had not expected this, though.

As always, he had forgotten about Albus’s stupid noble heart. Perhaps it was because he could not even imagine the kindness Albus was willing to show that he always underestimated this part of the equation, but once again it had literally blown up in his face.

How in Merlin’s name should he have anticipated that Albus was willing to die for that stupid boy? How could he have imagined that Albus would take the whole blow of the Obscurus and some strange magic Gellert had never seen before but that he was sure Albus had come up with, with the help of Scamander?

Now that his plan had worked out (it hadn’t since this had never really been his plan to begin with) and Fate was seeming to get her way, he realised that he’d been wrong once again. The fear he’d felt, when he’d had that vision was not because of his opponent. It was the cruel, cold fist of fear that was now squeezing his chest at the sight of Albus, pale and motionless and bleeding, lying on the ground, his friends and his brother rushing towards him.

Aurelius, perfectly fine, probably even better than ever before sat on the ground not far from them, dumbstruck at what had happened. It was Aberforth – of course it was – who dared to call out to him and ask if he was all right and Gellert was uncomfortably reminded of a similar afternoon, a lifetime ago it seemed, only that Albus had slipped his hand in his and asked him in a shaky whisper to please, stay and let me explain.

Albus wasn’t moving now. Theseus Scamander was steadily casting Renervate at his chest and Eulalie Hicks was cushioning his bleeding head on her cloak, but nothing happened.

Even from the other side of the plaza he’d felt Albus’s magic vibrating in the air all around them, before. It had been so distinctly familiar that it had almost driven him crazy, but now there was nothing. His own magic was searching, almost desperately, for that familiar trace, for the strings so intricately connected to his own but came up empty.

A feeling unknown to him, like a dark shadow surfacing from the depths of his being, began to rise in his body, constricting his lungs and throat, squeezing his chest, replacing his blood with ice water.

He was constantly surrounded by death these days, he’d told the members of alliance time and again that Albus was the greatest danger to their cause, when he’d been angry, he’d imagined hurting him, but now the prospect of Albus, the only person on this damn earth that it was really worth talking to, the only one, who’d ever been able to understand his mind, the only one, who’d ever known him – gone?

No, he’d never wanted this. He didn’t want this. That stubborn fool couldn’t leave him alone in this shameful world!

If he refused to see how brilliant they could be together for the rest of his damn life, fine, but he couldn’t leave him for good! Albus couldn’t just take his only connection away like that by dying.

He only noticed that his body had started shaking from the tension in his muscles, when Vinda touched his arm, muttering: “We should go.”

“No, wait,” he told her, still observing how Albus’s friends were trying to breathe life back into him. He knew they wouldn’t let him approach them and he couldn’t be seen helping Albus Dumbledore, but all his impulses were pushing him to stride over and pour out all his magic and remind Albus’s blood that it was still bound to earth, bound to life.

“The Aurors will be here soon,” Vinda said. And she was right. They needed to be gone soon, but he couldn’t as long as he wasn’t sure that Albus would live. He watched as Aurelius slowly, carefully stumbled over to the group of people surrounding Albus and for the second time that day he witnessed magic he had never seen before. (He wasn’t sure anyone had seen it before; they were definitely pushing the boundaries of known magical territory.)

He would never understand what it was with phoenixes and the Dumbledores but for a moment he did not care. There was blinding red and gold like a flame and then he could feel the familiar presence of Albus’s magic filling the plaza again, no matter how weak it seemed, and the next moment a dozen Aurors apparated all over the place.

Vinda’s eyes had already widened with fear, when he finally gave her permission to go, following with merely a last glance at Albus’s slowly moving form.

#grindeldore #gellert grindelwald #albus dumbledore #fb #hp #nicolas fantastic fanfiction