#introversion at its best

[acaesic]

I want to dm you (you seem like a nice person) but God I'm terrified. Is it okay to dm you. I need to know.

of course you can dm anon!🫶 ill never turn down friendship ^w^

#i do have the only-let-people-im-following-dm-me setting on for bot and introversion reasons though but i assume we know each other. regan #if im completely wrong im. gonna laugh (at myself.) #regardless anon ​its okay to be scared. talking is scary sometimes. so no pressure at all :) 🫶🫶🫶 #but if you feel like dming know that i will do my best to respond ^^ #inbox

[cinnaminsvga]

Harana | Jungkook

harana (n.): the act of wooing someone by serenading them

→ summary:

Unwilling to settle down with you after five years of dating, Jeon Jungkook decides to break up to chase after his dreams. In the aftermath, you leave your hometown, desperate to forget your past and relearn what it means to be on your own. Two years later while on your way to work, you pass by a familiar voice singing songs about a girl he had left behind.

{or alternatively: Jungkook still sings the love songs that he wrote for you. He still means them, too.}

→ genre: busker!au, exes to lovers, angst, humor → warnings: jimin is insane and kinda crude (he has some issues going on), jungkook is a pathetic wet bunny but he's trying his best, oc has So Many Problems, so much arguing and yearning, ambiguous ending??? but my god there is hope!! the humanity of it all!! → words: 16.1K → a/n: HOLY SHIT IM BACK (kinda) and happy new year!! yeah ok its march but im relearning how to form coherent sentences so be patient ;w; this is the first installment of my hfoh series that i teased a LONG time ago... i made it a resolution to complete this series by the end of the year before i kms (Keep Myself Safe) so here's to a brand new year :D (oh god @ universe pls be kind)

part of the “heart full of hugot” series

Two days before the incident, your shower nozzle decides to explode.

Okay, you have to admit that statement is a little misleading. Shower nozzles, in all its nonsentience, do not randomly decide to explode no matter how much you try to defend yourself to your landlord. Maybe your grip had been a little too harsh that morning, or maybe hanging 5 pounds of hair products on the handle had been a bit too much for the old sport to handle. Or maybe, just maybe, the universe was warning you about the incident.

Whatever it was, it doesn’t erase the fact that your shower would be out of commission for the next week or so (though your landlord seems adamant about prolonging your suffering as long as possible). Until then, you’re going to have to find some other ways to keep the grease and grime from building on you. Heavens know that you already have a thriving ecosystem living in the back of your couch—you don’t need another one growing under your armpits. 

Lucky for you, you have friends. More importantly, you have friends who have showers. There is one problem though—all your friends live on the other side of the country. 

It’s been two years since you moved to the Big City™️, but you have done little to grow your social network. Call it introversion or depression, either way, you have no more contacts on your phone than you did when you left your hometown. Well, except for one person, if you could even consider him one. Frankly, you didn’t have a choice.

“Welcome to my humble abode, stinky,” Jimin greets you as you enter his house. Your nose is instantly assaulted by the smell of Bath & Body Works® Sweet Pea, reminding you once more why you didn’t consider him a friend. 

“Hey,” you reply gruffly, shucking your ratty shoes near his entrance. Your shoes look incredibly out of place amidst the sea of designer Chelsea boots and a singular pair of thigh-high heels. You take a glance at his living room, already feeling worse about yourself tenfold.

You had met Park Jimin by complete accident, much like how his mother probably felt when she first saw him too. You had never known anyone quite as… interesting as him, to put it lightly. 

When you got your job as a hostess for a luxury bar and restaurant, you figured you wouldn’t make many friends with your coworkers. Everyone was so… pretty, but in the shiny, untouchable sort of way. Almost all of the servers were as gorgeous as the models you’d see in magazines. You hadn’t known that the owners only hired a certain “demographic” of people for their restaurant, and you were equal parts flattered and disgusted that you’d somehow made it (though you suppose your bullshitting skills were all to thank). 

Unsurprisingly, even the bartenders were gorgeous, including one Park Jimin. He did have an aura to him that screamed “I’m a cut above the rest and I know it,” but that could just be the gold chains dripping down his neck. You almost mistook him as one of the patrons who mistakenly made his way behind the bar, and knowing the sort of clientele you’ve had to deal with so far, you wouldn’t have been surprised. It took a couple of weeks before you finally found out who he was (and what his fucking problem was).

Jimin was a part-time bartender with a full-time job as a bitch a self-made entrepreneur. Which is to say, he sold… tasteful photos of himself on the internet. You had nothing against his line of work. In fact, you would go far as to say you didn’t give a shit what he did outside of your shared workspace. But if there’s one thing Jimin is, it’s that he hates being ignored. 

So when you were adamant about not oohing and aahing at everything that makes Park Jimin perfect, he made it his self-appointed mission to befriend you. Or at least that’s what he claims, but given how he treats you lesser than the shit that cakes his cheeks, you have a lot of doubts. Perhaps he’s never made an effort to make a friend, hence his inexperience with being a decent human being. Or perhaps he’s just an asshole, but who is to say? The point is: he’s the only person you knew in this godforsaken city who would likely allow you to use his shower without being awkward about it and that’s that. 

The worst part about being an acquaintance with Park Jimin was that he lived in the richest area of Downtown but he wasn’t old money, that’s for sure. His entire essence screamed overconsumption, and his myriad of little trinkets littered across his apartment confirmed your previous assessment. You wouldn’t be surprised if you opened his freezer and found ten types of ice sorted assorted by color and shape like the extra bitch that he was. 

He made his money through sheer force, and it would have impressed you if he wasn’t, you know. Him.

“Bathroom is over there. I placed a towel and other shower amenities that you can borrow,” he says pointing to a door with a large “FART ZONE: ENTER WITH CAUTION” sign taped to it. You don’t ask.

“Thanks,” you say flatly. You wait patiently for his out-of-pocket comment. 

Like clockwork, Jimin smirks. “Sure thing. I gave you the super heavy-duty stuff. Figured you’d burn a hole through my expensive towels with how stinky you are, with your yeasty cu—”

“Aaaand I’ll be done in a few minutes. Thanks again Jimin,” you interrupt, making your way to the bathroom and slamming the door with as much force as you can muster. You hear something fall as the door shuts, and you vaguely hear Jimin mutter something about his “fart zone” signage. 

You begin to prepare your shower routine, humming lowly as you go about your business. You try to ignore the suffocating scent of ten million diffusers entering your nostrils, wondering for the umpteenth time if Jimin is suffering from long-term olfactory dysfunction. 

“Focus, Y/N. The quicker you shower, the quicker you can get the fuck out of here,” you whisper to yourself. However, in your haste, you knock over Jimin’s towel by accident. When the towel falls, a sheet of sandpaper slips out from underneath it, and you stare bemusedly until it finally hits you.

“YOU ARE SUCH A LITTLE BITCH!” 

From behind the door, you can hear Jimin’s infamous cackle. “Did you find the loofah? I got it just for you, darling!” he shouts back through his laughter, and you just grumble back in response. How on earth no one has strangled him to death, you have no idea.

“Whatever. I’m gonna shower now! Go beat off or whatever the fuck you do in your spare time,” you grouse, stripping as quickly as possible.

When the first droplets of water hit your body, you can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. You had both anticipated and dreaded going to Jimin’s house, but you desperately needed the shower. So you go through your routine, trying to find some semblance of relaxation throughout the process. However, it seems that Jimin was yearning for a little bit of attention as he chose to recline on the other side of the door and chat your ear off. Peace was never an option, it seems.

“Hey, Y/N! So why haven’t I seen you at work recently?” Jimin hollers from his living room. Despite the wall separating you, his voice manages to retain its volume.

You squirt a large glob of Jimin’s (expensive) conditioner onto your hands. “What do you mean? I go to work every day. You were the one who hasn’t been clocking in.”

You can hear Jimin scoff. “Um, correction! I went to work last Friday, which so happened to be your day off. If I didn’t know any better, I would have assumed you were avoiding me.”

And right you are, you think. But instead, you say, “Yeah, what a coincidence. I’ll be back to my regular schedule on Monday, though.”

“So that means you didn’t see the Justin Bieber wannabe stationed outside the restaurant then?” Jimin asks, voice miffed. “The guy suddenly sat down by the entrance window and a whole damn crowd started to appear! The absolute nerve of these people—don’t they know Park Jimin was just past the doors?” 

This provokes Jimin to go on his long epic soliloquy, which you’ve learned to drown out over the past two years. He could go on hour-long tirades if he wanted, and any interruption from you would just bounce off his nonfunctioning ears. And so, you allow his voice to fall to the back of your mind, similar to white noise if it wasn’t so grating.

However, this was likely your greatest mistake. If you hadn’t been so exhausted, or if Park Jimin hadn’t been so damn annoying all the time, or if the stars had aligned just right… Maybe you would have been forewarned about the incident. It’s as if the universe was screaming at you to pay attention, but alas… You were standing on the proverbial highway, unbeknownst to the incoming traffic because you had your metaphorical AirPods on.

So there you are, completely showered but none the wiser to your impending doom, naively looking to the future with unsuspecting eyes. Even if you had known of what was to come, would avoiding it even be possible? In hindsight, you suppose not, but you still kick yourself for being so blind. If only you’d steeled your heart, then maybe you wouldn’t have felt like vomiting in front of a crowd of innocent bystanders the very next day.

xxx

Monday comes and your shower still isn’t fixed. Jimin makes the benevolent gesture of allowing you to use his shower in the meantime, though you’ll only partake in his offer as minimally as possible. He does mention that he’ll need at least an hour’s notice, warning you about “accidental voyeurism.” You shudder to think of what sort of horror you might find if you did visit him without warning, and you pray for the continued well-being of your retinas.

On your way to work, you’re too busy watching cute videos of animals to notice the unusual flock of people idling close to your workplace. When you get closer, however, the growing commotion is enough to rip your gaze away from your phone, and the sight of the large crowd makes you stop in your tracks. 

It is 4 pm and the usual line of waiting patrons should not start piling up for another three hours, so this confuses you more than anything. You shuffle closer, squinting at the crowd until you notice that they aren’t lined up at all; instead, they have congregated into a large circle, but you are too far to see what they are surrounding. 

An accident? You worry, wondering if something terrible happened. You tiptoe above the heads of people, subtly moving forward to take a better look. Curse you and your curiosity. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself to see something grotesque or astonishing, but instead…

It’s worse.

Inching closer, you can begin to hear a soft thrumming of a guitar and a gentle singing voice that causes alarm bells to ring in your ears. The warm melody digs up old memories of a time long past: of ballads sung outside your childhood bedroom window, of promises whispered under Spiderman sheets, of tender caresses tucking stray hairs behind your ears… They flood your senses, but all you can feel is dread.

It can’t be who you think it is. You accidentally elbow a guy on your way to get closer, unsteadying his grip on his phone. 

“Hey, watch it! I’m filming a totally not-staged TikTok over here!” He yells, but you can hardly pay attention to him when you feel unnaturally drawn to come closer, still. 

You’re nearly at the front, with just a couple of teenagers standing between you and the (not-so) mysterious street performer. But the distance is enough, and your breath catches. You can see him—

Black hair partially hidden under a bucket hat. Boots bigger than Pangaea and a pair of eyes equally as large. Dark ink snaking down his arms, peeking out from under oversized sleeves. Piercings that could rival Park Jimin on a good day. He isn’t facing you, but you can still see his big doe eyes, gentle sloping nose, and pretty lips stretched into a handsome smile.

Your heart is thundering in your chest. This can’t be happening, you panic. After two whole years of rebuilding and reshaping yourself, relearning how to be yourself and not… not just his girlfriend.

Jeon Jungkook stands before you, busking in front of your workplace of all locations. The universe could not have been any crueler to you.

You—you had been known as nothing more than Jeon Jungkook’s high school sweetheart. Buried memories of snide comments from jealous teen girls fill your mind, reminding you of the time when you were coined a simple side piece to the main attraction. Decor, as they would call you. Nothing more than a girl who happened to snag Jungkook before people realized he was going to turn… hot. A hot guy who could sing. An inevitable chic magnet, as they would call him. 

And now, years later after much therapy and soul searching, your worst nightmare is standing in front of you in the flesh. This is what you will eventually dub the incident. 

At that moment, however, there is little to no time to dwell on naming this ongoing core memory. All you can feel is the adrenaline pumping through your veins, as well as the nausea rising up your throat. You stumble backward, blatantly shoving onlookers away as you struggle to find some air to breathe. In hindsight, you probably should have backed away as subtly as possible, but you hope that your dyed hair might be different enough that Jungkook wouldn’t know it was you if he had glanced your way. 

Even when you stagger towards your work establishment, the walls cannot perfectly muffle his soothing singing. You can’t make out the lyrics to his song too well, but his unmistakable voice is hard to ignore. Working as a hostess, your station is also coincidentally as close to the door as possible for maximum torture. 

This can’t get any worse, you think as your mind races with conflicting emotions. You thought you had moved on, thought you were past the pain and the memories, but seeing Jungkook again, unexpectedly, stirs up a storm of feelings you thought were buried deep. Anger, hurt, betrayal—all rush to the surface, threatening to overwhelm you.

But there is no time to unpack all that baggage right now. Time will continue to march on, and your job is still on the line. How can you have the time to have a mental breakdown when you were still living paycheck to paycheck?

But even as you try to push Jungkook out of your mind, his voice echoes in your ears, his image burned into your memory. It's as if the universe is laughing at your misery, reminding you that despite all your supposed growth, you are still just you. 

Painfully and pathetically you.

As you struggle to pull yourself together, a familiarly loud voice rings outside the edge of your consciousness. “Hey, Y/N! Fancy seeing you here…” Jimin greets you, his usual jovial demeanor halting midway when he sees your panicked expression. He clears his throat, perplexed. “Umm… Are you alright there, girl? You’re looking a little pale.”

You do not even have the mental capacity to wonder why Park Jimin was miraculously early to his shift, nor why he seems genuinely worried for you. Rather, all you can do is wave him off and use what little time you have before the restaurant opens to steel yourself for hours of melodious torture. 

“I’m fine, Park. You should get to work,” you grit out, wiping your sweaty palms on your uniform. Normally, Jimin would have teased you about the obvious wrinkles on your skirt. 

“You’re not the boss of me,” Jimin huffs, always the contrarian. He thinks better of it, however, and softens his tone. “Are you feeling sick or something? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

You freeze, perhaps giving yourself away a little. “I’m fine,” you repeat. 

“You know, if you refuse to elaborate, I’m going to have to retract your shower privileges,” Jimin taunts with a smirk. 

You feel a migraine growing by your temple, making you wince. God, why must men be the source of all your problems?

“I’m just… a little annoyed by the busker outside the restaurant,” you eventually admit, trying to be vague. Unfortunately for you, Jimin hates beating around the bush and would never take your crap if he knows something is up.

Unable to withstand the weight of his unimpressed stare, you clarify, “He was someone I used to know, that’s all.” You aren’t going to be any more specific than that, though you imagine Jimin gets the picture. You zip your lips, hoping to whoever is causing you pain that Jimin would somehow let the matter drop and leave you to your misery.

You brace yourself for his onslaught of questioning to come, and… it doesn’t happen. Instead, when you glance at Jimin, he is mysteriously stone faced. You wait for him to speak for what feels like a few minutes, but he doesn’t show any signs of wanting to tease or ridicule you. He simply watches you with a pensive expression. You can barely stop yourself from staring back at him, slack-jawed at his silence. 

Of course, you aren’t just going to question your luck, or what little you have at least. So, you stay silent back and fidget uncomfortably.

Finally, Jimin seems to snap out of his strange reverie. He fixes you with a bizarrely sympathetic grin, patting you affectionately on the back. “I see… Well, if you ever need a drink tonight, head over to the bar for a little sip. I got you covered,” is all he says in response before sashaying away. 

That was so fucking weird. You want to chase after him, perhaps beat the truth out of him. Jimin is nothing but a scheming dick, and you aren’t about to let him roam free with such sensitive information about yourself. Just as you’re about to stomp his ass (perhaps to relieve some of the building tension from your weary soul), your manager pops his head from his office door. 

“Y/N! Make sure you’re logged into the booking system. There’s going to be a party of 20 coming in about an hour,” he reminds you, shooting you an apologetic look. You nod back with a sigh, swiping the booking tablet from the hostess desk and scrolling through the logs. Sure enough, it is going to be a busy night despite being a Monday evening. Perhaps a little busier than usual, in fact.

Whatever. You will use whatever distraction you can get, and perhaps the approaching noise from the restaurant patrons will be enough to drown out the sound of his voice. 

You aren’t religious by any means, but you pray to whatever higher power exists that Jeon Jungkook doesn’t somehow decide to enter the restaurant. Stay outside, you plead. Outside the restaurant and your life, if possible.

Throughout the evening, you do your best to push aside the memories that threaten to resurface. You greet customers with a smile, lead them to their tables, and ensure their dining experience is pleasant despite the anxiety poisoning your insides. It's a routine you've perfected over time, a shield against the chaos of your emotions.

As the night wears on, you can feel Jimin's eyes on you from across the restaurant. You sneak glances back at him, and you blanch at his pitying gaze. If the restaurant had been slightly less crowded, you would have flipped him off. 

He’s probably enjoying my suffering, you think darkly. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction, you straighten up and do your best to appear more unaffected. Just as you do so, you can hear Jungkook perfectly hitting a soulful high note. 

“I’m so sorry for thinking I was strong,” you whisper to the universe. “Forgive me for my insolence.” You clench your fist in anguish, ignoring the confused looks from the customers in front of you. 

By the time your shift comes to a close, you are completely and utterly drained. You feel like a snail that has been continuously salted over the past eight hours, and you cannot help but cheer in relief when the clock finally strikes two in the morning. You have to wait for the last few diners to make their leave, but otherwise you are ready to let your bed swallow you whole. 

You stand by your hostess desk, leaning your head against it with a defeated sigh. Jungkook’s voice had died down only a few minutes ago, and you hope that by this point he has mercifully left the premises. You want to take a peek to make sure, but just as you’re about to make your way to the door, you feel a hand on your shoulder stop you in your tracks.

“‘Sup, bitch.” Jimin still has that weird, pitying gaze pointed at you, though his words don’t match it. “Are you okay to go home alone tonight? I can bring your dumb ass home if you want.”

You shove his hand away, ready to bite his head off when you think better of it. If Jimin drives you home, then that lowers the chances of seeing Jungkook down to pretty much zero. 

“You know what? Thanks,” you grouse. Jimin smiles at you winningly, and the image of it brings a shiver down your spine. You hit him, creeped out. “Hey. Stop that, will you? You’re being really weird?”

Jimin scoffs, crossing his arms. “Me? Weird? At least I don’t look like a damn firework ready to explode just because my cringelord ex-boyfriend is singing sappy love songs outside—”

“Shut the fuck up,” you seethe, stomping on his foot. He yelps in pain and slaps your shoulder in retaliation. 

“Ouch! Watch your ogre feet! My shoes are worth twice your monthly rent I’ll have you know,” he bristles. He breathes deeply, likely finding his inner calm (which you doubt exists). “But because I’m so nice, I’ll ignore your earlier transgression and blame it on your underdeveloped amygdala.”

You don’t know what’s more surprising: the fact that Jimin knew what an amygdala was or that he was forgiving you in the first place. “Whatever. Let’s finish closing up and then head out. I’m exhausted.”

You make quick work of your task and when you’re ready to head out, Jimin is already waiting by the backdoor. He’s twirling his car keys with a finger and gestures for you to follow him. As you make your way to his car in the back parking lot, you catch sight of a lone figure standing next to a beat-up pickup truck. He’s leaning against it, his hands busy tuning a battered guitar.

Your breath hitches, and you immediately feel nauseous. Of course the incident has yet to end. The night is young, after all.

Jimin accidentally slams the backdoor closed, and the noise wrenches Jungkook’s attention away from his ministrations. Immediately, his eyes lock with Jimin before finally turning to you. 

Your heart skips a beat as he gazes at you, your mind racing with a hurricane of emotions. You hadn’t expected to see him again so soon, especially not after the tumultuous encounter earlier in the day. What did you say earlier? That “the chances of seeing Jungkook was down to pretty much zero”? 

The chances of seeing Jungkook is low, but never zero, your mind unhelpfully supplies.

There is a long period of awkward silence. Jungkook has his mouth slightly agape, his hand subconsciously lowering his guitar to rest against his truck. To your left, Jimin’s breathing quickens slightly. You, on the other hand, are trying your best not to projectile vomit in this damned parking lot. 

Jungkook is the one who decides to break the delicate silence. “Is that you…?” he calls out hesitantly. 

Don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my—

“Y/N,” Jimin interjects. His gaze is steel cold, uncharacteristic of the carefree boy. He slings an arm around your shoulders, gently nudging you towards his car. With your view still fixed on Jungkook, you miss the way Jimin shoots the other boy with a playful smirk. “C’mon, babe. Let’s go home.”

His words startle both you and Jungkook. “Wha—? Jimin?” you splutter, flushing at his flirtatious undertone. You want to curse him out for his strange behavior, but all the shock has left you mute. 

Jimin all but shoves you into the passenger seat. But just as he’s about to slam the car door, you hear Jungkook call out your name. It’s fleeting and quiet, but you heard him crystal clear.

It breaks your spirit to hear him say your name. For a moment, you feel as though you are floating.

When was the last time he called your name? And so softly, too? If you could replay that moment over and over, would you be able to catch some signs of tenderness in his voice? When you close your eyes later that night, would your dreams show you that he had been gazing at you with yearning? Was any of it true?

As Jimin starts the car and pulls away from the curb, you steal one last glance out the window, only to find Jungkook staring at you with an arm outstretched. You continue to watch him until his figure disappears into the night. 

You are quietly immersed in your own thoughts, the whirlwind of emotions intensifying your persistent migraine. Unaccustomed to silence, Jimin decides to give his unsolicited two cents, as per usual.

“Geez. Didn’t know you were into the whole starving artist type. If I’d known, then maybe I’d stop trying to brag about my fortune to you,” Jimin scoffs. “If loser buskers like him impress you, then maybe I should—”

“Would you shut the fuck up for once in your fucking life!” You explode, whirling to face him with a glare. Jimin has the audacity to flinch, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the road. 

“What the fuck? Why the hell are you mad at me?” 

“What the hell was that back there? ‘C’mon babe.’” You mimic his voice with a sneer. “Why on earth would you do that? Now he thinks that we…”

“Why do you care what he thinks? He’s your ex, remember?” Jimin cuts you off, but you can’t even refute him. He continues, “Figured as much. And judging by how spooked you’ve looked all day, I have to assume that he was an asshole, right? Why else would you accept my offer for a ride home if you really wanted to avoid seeing him?”

You shrink under his accurate assumptions. Damn, were you really that easy to read? “I… I mean, yeah but…” You clear your throat, still feeling wronged by him. “You didn’t have to act like a weird prick in front of him!”

Without warning, the floodgates burst forth. You begin to ramble, the thoughts that have been weighing you down pouring out of you in waves. “Jungkook was my ex, yeah. But he wasn’t an asshole. On the contrary, he was really sweet. The nicest guy in my school, at least. Wouldn’t hurt a fly, that sort of person. I dated him all throughout high school and he was a great partner.”

Jimin hums skeptically. “Then why the messy break-up?”

“It wasn’t messy!” You retort defensively. 

“Could’ve fooled me!” Jimin snorts. “I also frequently act like a trembling kitten when I see my exes,” he says sarcastically. 

You ignore him. “The reason we broke it off was because he wanted to pursue his dreams to become a singer after high school and I wanted to do other things. It was a mutual break-up! Honestly, I’m glad that we did. Too many girls wanted him and all the unwanted attention was getting on my nerves. I was glad to find a reason to end it all,” you explain, hoping you didn’t sound as shaky as you felt. What you said was mostly true, though you left out the important bits to yourself. Mostly to save some of your dignity intact. (Truthfully, you just didn’t want to admit things you weren’t ready to face.)

“Then if you’re so glad, why do you look like you wanted to shit yourself? It ain’t adding up,” Jimin fires back.

“It’s just—” you stammer, trying to find a reason why you were so bent out of shape after seeing him. “I-I was caught off guard, I guess. I knew he was pursuing his dreams to sing and all, so I expected him to leave the country. I wasn’t expecting to see him outside where I work, of all places,” you mutter lamely. You have your head bowed, biting your lips from the nerves. Again, you weren’t totally lying. 

Jimin is silent for a moment, contemplating your admission. When he looks so calm like this, it’s hard to get a read on what he’s thinking. As Jimin speeds down the highway, the street lights illuminate his face in a strange way, and for once, he looks like a stranger. His steely expression makes you nervous, for some reason. 

Eventually, he asks you a question you would never have expected. “And he just let you go?”

You pause. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Jimin huffs, irritated. “He just up and left without a fight? If I were him, I would have…” he trails off, his jaw clenching. 

You don’t know where this Jimin came from. Under the moonlight, Jimin looks livid, but that can’t be right. Jimin, mad for you? Sure, you’ve seen his anger directed towards you, but this? Everything’s gotten so complicated, and you are just about ready to succumb to sleep and hope to wake from this nightmare.

The rest of the drive to your house is silent, save for the sounds coming from passing cars. Jimin pulls up to your apartment complex, his mysterious anger finally subsiding. 

Just as you’re about to reach for the car door handle, Jimin places a hand on your shoulder. “Listen, Y/N. I’ll talk to management tomorrow morning. I know the manager well enough that I can probably convince him to do something about that ex of yours. He’s busking on private property, so it should be easy to get rid of him,” Jimin says, tone serious. He swallows, and for a moment you think he looks a little nervous. “If that’s what you want, I guess.”

His kindness scares you. You want to tease him, ask him where Mr. Bitchy and his $2000 Chelsea boots had gone. Anything to make this air of severe sincerity to abate. This new Jimin feels suffocating. But instead, you nod your head stiffly. 

Jimin makes a pained expression for a moment, but it’s quickly replaced by his usual playful smirk. He slaps you upside the head, laughing heartily at your stunned face. 

“Get some rest, babe. I’ll see you tomorrow evening,” he chuckles, reaching over to open the door for you. You scramble out into the cold city air, taking one last look back at him through his window.

He rolls it down, leaning forward to flash a toothy grin at you. “Hey, stop with all the angst, pookie. Wouldn’t want my favorite toy to get sick from overthinking. Who else would I bother at work if not you?”

You snort, both endeared and irritated in equal measure. He’s right. Everything was going back to normal tomorrow, you’re sure of it. You flip him off with a cheeky grin before making your way to your apartment.

Everything is going to be okay. Jimin says he’ll do something about it, and for whatever reason, you feel like you can trust him on this. Surely good fortune was soon to be upon you. 

xxx

Jimin had texted you while you were still sleeping:

Spoke to Manager Jeong about your little problem. He said he’ll deal with him.

You breathe a sigh of relief, your body feeling significantly lighter. Your sleep last night had been tumultuous and restless. You feel more tired than you did when you went to bed, but all your weariness fades once you read Jimin’s text. 

Once you make it to work, you find that management has gotten rid of Jungkook somehow. Added with the fact that your landlord has promised to look into repairing your shower (no guarantees, but you want to stay optimistic), today has been significantly better compared to yesterday. You even catch yourself humming as you set up your workstation, a small smile gracing your lips.

Jimin has a later shift this evening, and you find that you are somewhat disappointed for once. Your overwhelming gratitude is surely the only reason, otherwise you would never admit to wanting to see him at any given time. 

You are in the midst of texting Jimin about all the good news when your manager passes by your desk. You are quick to pocket your phone away from his prying eyes, ready to defend that you aren’t slacking off… but his demeanor does not reveal any ire. In fact, he looks rather pleased for once.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeong. What’s up?” you ask, suspicious. You instinctively fold your hands behind your back; it is a subconscious effort on your part to keep your distance from him. Something about your manager always gives you a bad feeling when he looks a little too happy. 

He grins widely. “Everything is going splendidly, Ms. Y/N. In fact, I think today might just be our lucky day!”

Never during your time working here has his and your luck ever coincided. “Our lucky day?” you echo.

“Why, yes! I spoke with your lovely friend and coworker Jimin this morning,” he starts, and immediately your alarm bells ring. You don’t even bother correcting him about the ‘friend’ part like you normally would. He continues, “He gave me a brilliant idea about the busker who had been performing in front of the restaurant the past two days.”

You nod slowly, not quite understanding. “Yes… The busker has been quite… the spectacle,” you say carefully. Somehow, you know calling Jungkook a ‘nuisance’ would have been the wrong choice in this instance.

Manager Jeong beams. “Exactly! You must have noticed the amount of people we served yesterday despite being a Monday. Additionally, almost all of those new customers requested outdoor seating no less!”

You feel the world tilt on its axis. What is he on abou—?

“What are you talking about?” you exhale.

“Don’t you think it would be even better for business if we got that busker to perform inside the restaurant? Why, it’s a brilliant idea and I don’t know why I didn’t think of it first! Our live band has always been missing something special, and perhaps a vocal accompaniment is the exact answer to our problem! Think about it, the atmosphere would be…”

Manager Jeong continues to prattle animatedly about his plans to your unhearing ears. There must be static or cotton plugging your head because you cannot possibly understand anything he is saying. Jungkook? Inside? Performing at your restaurant? But Jimin said he had spoken to the manager about getting Jungkook away from you! None of this makes sense. 

“That makes no sense,” you verbalize, unknowingly cutting Manager Jeong from his monologue. He halts in surprise, as if now just realizing you were standing there (much less capable of interrupting or disagreeing with him). When he snaps out of it, you sense that familiarly sinister aura emerging from him in waves. You belatedly realize he must have mistaken your outburst as antagonistic.

“Well, Ms. Y/N. Whether it makes sense or not, we have hired Mr. Jeon to perform live at the bar stage for the next four weeknights. If, for some unknowable reason, I am incorrect,” he pauses to emphasize his words, “then his services will be promptly terminated. However, judging by his popularity from simply standing out in the cold and singing silly love songs, I am sure that worry is unwarranted.”

Behind you, the telltale sound of the main door swinging open catches you even more off guard. You do not even have the chance to turn to face the newcomer, only managing to register the gust of cold wind that accompanies their entry.

And so, you hear him before you see him. 

“Hello?” Jeon Jungkook greets quietly.

Even without turning, you can imagine how he looks, how he stands, how he feels, how he tastes—

Manager Jeong claps his hands gleefully. “Splendid timing! Speak of the devil…” The older man nearly skips towards Jungkook like a youthful school girl, accompanied by his uncharacteristic squeals of excitement. 

You can feel his gaze on you, almost tangibly. With nothing but your shreds of dignity left intact, you force yourself to face him. 

He’s still so tall, is all your mind can helpfully supply as you stand feet away from your high school sweetheart for the first time in two years. He’s still wearing the same bucket hat from the night before, semi-shielding him from view. Despite that, you catch a small flash of white graze his bottom lip as he chews the soft flesh nervously.

“Hi, Y/N.” He addresses you directly, completely overlooking your manager without a single glance. Despite his hat, he still has his eyes lasered on you, as if not quite believing you were there. You hate how his attention makes you shiver all the same. 

Even though he ignored your manager (which would have been a major dispute had you done the same), Jungkook still receives a friendly handshake in return. “Mr. Jeon! I’m surprised you know Ms. Y/N, though I’m sure you must have spoken with her when she was escorting guests to the outdoor seating the other day.”

You had actually gotten your co-hostess to seat all the outdoor seatings yesterday, but you weren’t going to mention that.

Manager Jeong claps him on the back, inadvertently causing Jungkook to stumble forward closer to you. He looks up at you then, eyes bugging out of their sockets like a rabbit caught in a bear trap. You stagger backwards in turn, barely concealing the anxiety on your face. Oh fucking hell.

Your manager is none the wiser, of course. “Well, this makes my job much easier! Since you’re both acquainted, I’ll let Y/N show you the ropes. The band doesn’t start their set until later in the evening, but you’re free to take a look at the stage and other parts of our facility in the meantime,” he says, chuffed. Meanwhile, Jungkook looks like he’s been shot by a freeze ray. 

Then, your manager points a sharper gaze at you. “Ms. Y/N, treat our super star well. I know you won’t disappoint me.”

Fucking superstar… You can only nod in defeat. “Y-Yes, sir…” you whisper, clenching your uniform with your fists. It is the only way to keep them from shaking like a leaf. You watch as his figure disappears behind his office door, leaving you to fend for yourself. Powerless, you train your gaze to the floor, unwilling to meet Jungkook’s eyes. 

But the nerves are taking control of your body, screaming at you to eject, eject, eject!

“Sorry, I have to go to the toilet,” you splutter quickly, almost tripping over yourself on the way to the restroom. You dimly wonder if Jungkook is going to think you’re leaving to throw up, but you can’t find any self-respect left to care. All you need is air and space to breathe—preferably away from him. 

You slam open the stall, hardly checking to see if anyone else is around before locking the door shut. You sit on the toilet, plant your face between your knees, and scream. 

Should you go home and use sickness as an excuse? But even if you did, you still had shifts every weeknight. You would have to see him eventually. You can pray all you want that Jungkook will be fired by the end of the week, but even your delusional mind can never fathom the idea that anyone would willingly want to send Jeon Jungkook away. Plus, you remember that the regular band that plays at the restaurant has been wanting to get a singer to accompany them for ages, and you know just how damn affable he can be. They are going to love him, and you hate him for that.

It is clear to you that there is no other option:

You pull out your phone to quickly open up Indeed on your browser, frantically hunting for any openings that might fit your measly qualifications. However, you have to pause in your search to deliberate. Wouldn’t it be better to move out of the country? You had been so naive to think that moving cities was enough distance between you and Jungkook—going across the ocean is the obvious answer. Should you start up your Duolingo lessons again and hope that you can somehow survive in a different continent with only a few dollars to your name? 

You shut your phone in despair. Whether or not your plans of escape are feasible or not, in the short term, you are stuck with having to suck it up and just learn to ignore your ex-boyfriend’s presence. Surely you can force out a fake smile or two, especially with how much practice you’ve gotten after working with unbearably entitled customers. 

Taking a step outside of the restroom stall, you head to the sink to splash some cold on your face. You stare at the mirror, confronted by a girl who looks two seconds away from having a Netflix Original-esque meltdown. You rake your fingers through your hair, doing your best to look like you aren’t about to rush into incoming traffic. To no one's surprise, it doesn't work.

“Okay, I got this. Just pretend like he’s just some guy, because at the end of the day, he is just some guy,” you mutter to your reflection. She looks back at you unconvinced. “He may have broken my heart into little bite size pieces, but who cares! HE’S JUST A GUY!” You repeat the phrase over and over again like a lunatic, in a desperate attempt to cognitively alter your brain chemistry.

At that moment, one of the other stalls in the restroom creaks open, and a girl you recognize who works as one of the dishwashers walks out. You both have a silent eye conversation as she quietly studies your crazed expression and crumpled work uniform. 

Eventually, she awkwardly clears her throat, pointing to the only sink in the restroom. “Uh, sorry to hear about your, uh, guy problem. Could I use the sink please?” 

You hastily back away, allowing her to take your spot. You don’t even have the energy to apologize for your spectacle, just bowing sheepishly to her before making your way back to the main hall. If she rats you out to the rest of your coworkers, then that gives you another reason to move out of the country. Maybe you should consider a name change while you’re at it.

When you exit the restroom, you half expect Jungkook to be waiting for you by the door, but find that he isn’t anywhere nearby. He isn’t by your hostess station either, and you thank your lucky stars for once. Even if your manager had asked you to show him around, you’re sure that Jungkook can find his way around just fine. Plus, the stage is at the corner of the restaurant and is sufficiently far enough that you wouldn’t have to make eye contact with him if you were careful. 

You don’t know which greater entity has been messing with your sanity these past few days, but you hope that they can show you mercy just once—a brief reprieve, if anything. 

You clasp your hands in prayer. I’ll eat more vegetables, I’ll remember to floss, I’ll call my parents from time to time… Just please let me survive tonight. 

“Remember, Y/N… He’s just some guy,” you reiterate through gritted teeth. If a passing coworker happens to overhear your demented chanting, then you pay them no mind.

You walk towards the entrance, flipping the sign to open. You feel like a video game character when you glance at the clock, which signals the start of your shift. You can imagine the red bold text hovering above your head: 8 more hours until freedom. 

This is just like playing Five Nights at Freddy’s, except you’ve only watched the movie and you suspect your life is probably worse than whatever Josh Hutcherson had to survive through. 

You take a couple heaving breaths to brace yourself for what will be the longest eight hours of your life. You’ll show Jungkook just how well-adjusted and mature you’ve become. You are a professional, and not even a boy with angelic vocals will make you crumble. After all, what’s the worst he can do? 

xxx

He could, in fact, do a lot worse than you thought. 

“I have many regrets being born at all,” you mutter bleakly, three hours into your shift. 

Jungkook had started singing only an hour ago, so you had been filled with false confidence at first when the restaurant was filled with nothing but ambient chatter and soothing jazz music. You felt more and more confident as the minutes ticked by and your anxiety slowly melted away. You even forgot that he was somewhere in the back, likely warming up or whatever it is that singers did before a performance. 

However, your brief moment of courage shatters almost immediately when Jungkook finally takes the stage. 

At first, you did your best to tune out his voice, but it’s especially hard when whoever was in charge of the sound system decided to crank his volume to an excruciating level. You wanted desperately to grab some napkins and shove them in your ears, but you suspected that your customers (and manager) would be unappreciative of that gesture. And so there you lay, forced to wallow in Jungkook’s melodious singing like a criminal strapped to an electric chair.

But how much more pleasant an electric chair would be! Why on earth was Jungkook so adamant to sing sad love songs the entire time? Why couldn’t he be like his other singing contemporaries, who loved to write songs about getting bitches and making money? At the very least, even if he wasn’t quite a platinum selling artist just yet, surely he was constantly sharing beds with anyone he pleases? Couldn’t he sing about that?!

(In the back of your mind, you wonder if it would be less painful to learn that Jungkook has slept with multiple people… Because then, it would mean that he had moved on while you stood alone on your island, stranded and yearning.)

You didn’t want to think too deeply about his lyrics. However, you're only human. So when your mind barrier failed and you caught snippets of his singing, you noticed a pattern. There was always a girl in his songs. She was omnipresent, and Jungkook was always pleading for her. Begging and aching and wanting. But most all… he was always repenting. In every song, he always whispered a pious apology. 

You feared what would happen if you turned around in those moments of weakness. You were terrified of admitting something, of letting words spill that had been trapped in your throat for the better part of two years. 

Lucky for you, salvation comes in the form of one Park Jimin. Though, can you even count him as your savior when he had also inadvertently caused your demise?

Jimin doesn’t even have a shift today, so you’re more than surprised when his bright blonde head stumbles through the restaurant doors. His expensive coat is askew and his signature designer shades are nowhere to be found. He is panic incarnate—an expression you have never seen on his face before.

“Holy fuck,” he greets, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. His profanity startles the elderly couple waiting to be seated, their glares menacingly sharp. To his credit, Jimin doesn’t even seem phased.

In lieu of an answer, you gesture vaguely behind you. You can imagine how dejected you must look. “Holy fuck indeed,” you sigh.

It takes a moment for Jimin to regain his bearings. He straightens up and pats down his coat, but his hair is still tousled by the wind. If not for the fact that he has a car, you might have thought he had run all the way here. 

“I am so sorry. I didn’t know this was going to happen,” he starts, genuinely remorseful. “I texted Manager Jeong this morning and he said he’d get your ex to leave, but I didn’t think he’d offer the damn bastard a job!”

“Mind your language, Park. I’m still at work,” you scold. You try your best to ignore the scrutinizing gaze of the elderly couple. You lower your voice. “And don’t apologize. I know you’re an asshole, but I doubt you’d actually prey on my downfall like this. I know you’re not into public humiliation.”

Jimin brightens slightly at your joke, but he still looks like a guilty puppy who'd been caught shitting on the carpet. “Yeah, well. I happen to enjoy tormenting you and I won’t let some upstart Charlie Puth wannabe ruin your life. That’s my job.”

You smile wryly at him. “Well, that’s too bad. Jungkook’s been singing for a few hours now and I’m pretty sure Manager Jeong is going to keep him long-term. He might have broken my heart, but damn does he have vocals. I'm sure you'll have plenty competition when it comes to 'who can make Y/N's life feel like hell.'”

Jimin doesn't smile back, but instead studies your face for a moment. Then:

“Do you think if I offer to suck Manager Jeong off, he’ll fire him?”

“What the fuck?” You nearly yell out in surprise, your jaw dropping to the floor. Judging by his serious scowl, you know he's actually considering it. By now, the elderly couple waiting to be seated have left the premises.

Jimin continues, unperturbed. “I know he secretly wants me, based on how his wife seems to have a personal vendetta against me. He definitely wants a taste of my bus—.”

“Stop, I get it!” You wave your hands to make him shut up, heat rising up your cheeks. “Never say that string of words to me ever again. You have just inflicted ten years of suffering onto my poor brain.”

“Hey, I’m just offering solutions here!” Jimin pouts. 

You stare at him, unimpressed. “Save it. You tried solving my problems already, so let’s just accept the fact that there’s nothing else for me to do but to suck it up. It’s time for me to put on my big girl pants for a change.”

“I mean, I could do all the sucking instead, but you’re being a little bitch about it,” Jimin mumbles. He’s lucky you didn’t hear him this time, lest you give him something to really whine about.

“Anyway, I guess this is my life now. Nothing to do except hope that he never tries to interact with me or I can find another job,” you shrug. 

Over your shoulder, Jimin fixes Jungkook with an icy glare that is cold enough to give you the shivers. For the first time that entire night, you hazard a glance back at the stage, finding that Jungkook is already looking back at you.

You whip your head back forward, perspiration forming down your back. For fuck’s sake, this guy.

“Well, let me know if he tries anything. I’ll beat that little freak into the floor if he tries so much as breathing the same air as you.” Jimin huffs, puffing up his chest with false bravado. You can’t help but laugh at his empty threat, knowing that Jungkook could probably bench press Jimin without breaking a sweat. Jimin's muscles are only for aesthetics, after all.

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t actually spoken to me actually. He can keep singing his sad little love songs, I really don’t mind,” you say, like a liar. Jimin snorts, wholly unconvinced.

“Well, if you need me, I’m heading to the bar to grab a drink so I can stare at your ex uncomfortably until he leaves. See you!” Jimin bids you farewell with a cheery grin as he skips a little too happily inside the restaurant.

Why'd you have to befriend the largest lunatic in the city? You massage your forehead with a groan, willing away your growing headache. 

The rest of the night trickles away like molasses. Jungkook continues to sing his heart out, save for an hour intermission where he presumably takes a short break. In his absence, you hear Jimin guffaw loudly, his laughter too sharp to be considered happy. You faintly hear Jungkook shy stutters in response, and you momentarily consider running in to interrupt.

Why? Did you want to save Jungkook from Jimin’s unnecessary harassment? It’s not like Jimin is doing it out nowhere, he was just trying to be… a good friend?

You pause to ponder. As much as you hate to admit it, you know why you want to help Jungkook. But Jimin on the other hand? Why did he want to help you? Questions begin flowing through your head like a whirlwind, and your nausea increases. God, when was your next therapy appointment again?

You save those questions for another day. As you look at your watch, there are only thirty minutes left until two in the morning. You tap your foot impatiently, smiling curtly at departing customers as the restaurant slowly emptied. As they left, you overhear some of your regulars giggling amongst themselves, whispering about the cute new singer and his charming demeanor. 

The last nail on your coffin has been hammered. Yeah, Jungkook isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. 

With the restaurant closing soon, it sounds like Jungkook is ready to end his set as well. 

Throughout the night, Jungkook rarely made a point to speak. The only time he didn’t sing was when he quietly introduced the title of his next song and the band swiftly began the first opening notes. For his last song, however, Jungkook decided to give a little more backstory for his final song. 

“Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for listening to me for the night,” Jungkook says with a soft voice, his tone awfully shy despite his powerful belting throughout the evening. The few customers left give him a warm round of applause, and you hear the familiar sound of his timid giggles spill from the restaurant speakers. 

“This will be my final song for the night. Most of the songs I sang today were covers, but this one is an original. I…” He hesitates for a moment, and something pulls you to turn despite the alarm bells ringing in your ears. You face him, and just like earlier in the evening, he is already looking back at you.

This time, you don’t look away; he does. His eyes flit to the ceiling, and he licks his lips from nerves. “I… I wrote this song a long while ago. I’ve never sang it in public before and I never thought it would ever see the light of day. Until, well…”

He stops again. This time, he gestures to the guitarist in the band, silently asking to borrow it. With a guitar in hand, he smiles a little more confidently at the small crowd of people. He begins strumming the first few notes, and your heart stops. “I hope everyone had a pleasant evening. Get home safe and have a great rest of your week. My name is Jungkook, and this last song is called…”

Before he can sing the first line of his song, you make a break for it.

You slam the restaurant doors open, and the stinging cold air immediately pierces their fangs into your skin. Your coat is still inside, but you can’t bring yourself to reenter. You take a long breath, the chill barely registering in your mind with how loudly your heart is pounding in your ears.

Hearing the opening to that song was enough to bring you back in time, three years ago:

You are in his childhood bedroom, his walls littered with concert posters and his floor a mess with unfolded laundry and guitar picks. The afternoon sun is streaming through his windows, bathing him in gold. You have an exam the next day and he has cram school to go to, but you’ve both chucked your books somewhere on his desk, left forgotten. 

He has his eyes closed, concentrated. You’re both on his small twin bed, squished together side by side and thighs touching. You have your head on his shoulder and he has his hands on his guitar. He strums a few chords experimentally and sings a melody that only the two of you know.

(Not anymore.)

“Are you writing a new song?” you ask, voice a little scratchy. Neither of you had spoken for the past few hours, just basking in the setting sun and Jungkook’s indistinct strumming. But now, his chords sound more sure, more certain of something.

“Yeah, I just thought of it,” he hums. He opens his eyes a smidge, a smitten smile on his lips. You mirror him. 

“What’s it about this time?”

His brows furrow. “I’ve been trying to write about other stuff, you know? Namjoon-hyung tells me it’s important that songs have meaning and impact.” He pauses in his strumming, looking a little conflicted. “And I get what he means. Art is all about saying something, but… I can’t help that there’s only one thing I ever want to talk about. Is that so wrong?”

You chuckle, understanding what he means. You nudge your head against his cheek, grinning from ear to ear. The fluttering in your chest has become routine to you at this point, but he somehow always knows how to increase it tenfold. “God, you’re such a sweet talker. Really, Koo. There’s no need to serenade with love songs—I’m already yours.”

He looks back at you, brimming with tender affection. “I know,” he responds. Then, he takes a pen from his bedside table, and begins writing.

During those years of dating him, you always thought that If he was a waterfall, then you were a teaspoon. You desperately tried to be enough for him, but you’re barely able to fathom the depth of his devotion. Everything about him was excessive, and you could seldom understand how he managed to contain himself. He was born to share himself, to tear bits of his soul so that the world may understand him, love him. His songs were a testament that he was trying to do that, and you always felt so lucky to be able to receive him, wholly and fully.

How cruel was it that Jungkook uses that same song to rip open the barely healed scab on your heart, leaving you bare and stinging and raw all over again.

You have no idea how long you've stood there in the cold. It must have been barely a few minutes when Jimin finds his way to you. He wordlessly shrugs his coat off and places it on your shoulders, but you make no move to acknowledge him. 

You hope your silence is enough for Jimin to infer that you are not in a conversational mood, but he’s nothing if not impatient. He forcibly pulls you to face him, his hands warm even through your clothing.

“Hey, you good? Did something happen?” He asks with barely concealed irritation, but it’s not directed at you. Still, you flinch at his scathing tone, shrinking in on yourself. In your daze, you vaguely notice his resemblance to an angry baby chick. 

“It’s nothing. Go back inside, I’ll be right there,” you mumble lamely, weakly pushing him back towards the restaurant. Jimin does not budge, instead leveling you with a hard stare. This time, you’re sure his irritation is for you.

“You idiot, you literally ran out like someone was out to get you. Of course it’s not nothing,” he grouses. 

You sigh tiredly, shaking your head at him. “We can talk later. It’s almost closing time and I just want to go home and sleep.”

Before Jimin can argue further, the door to the restaurant opens once more, but it isn’t a leaving customer. 

“What the fuck? What are you doing out here?” Jimin all but shouts at Jungkook. He holds up an accusatory finger at him and uses his other hand to nudge you behind him as if to shield you. 

Jungkook winces, instinctively stepping back. Despite being a few inches taller than Jimin, Jungkook’s timidness makes him look smaller. “I… I was just worried about her—”

“Don’t you have a song to finish in there? Talk about professional,” Jimin spits out. Jimin maneuvers you so that Jungkook can’t see you, but you manage to catch sight of how his gaze follows you unfailingly.

“I finished up my set. It’s closing time.” Jungkook responds coolly. He’s still a little quiet, but you can sense some of his natural composure rising to the surface. When he needs to be, Jungkook has been known to stand his ground—usually when it comes to matters involving you.

At this time of the night and after hours of mental torture, the last thing you need is to watch your two worst nightmares duke it out in front of your work establishment. You are beyond exhausted, and you hardly have the fortitude to withstand another minute of their voices ringing in your ears. 

Your eyes well up with tears of frustration, causing the two boys to freeze up in panic. You don’t give them the chance to fuss over you; instead, you haphazardly wipe your cheeks before roughly pushing them back towards the restaurant. 

“Get back to work, you idiots.” Your voice sounds warbled even to your own ears, but you push past your overwhelming emotions in favor of getting back inside to close up. Hell, you might even call in sick tomorrow, just so you can cry pathetically into your bowl of cereal in solitude.

“I’m not even on the clock today!” Jimin complains faintly, but you only push him harder. 

When you all reenter, you walk back to your desk and pointedly ignore the two of them until they awkwardly float away from your orbit. Despite the distance they give you, their gazes are still fixed plainly on you and they feel like knives digging into your back. 

Eventually, all the final customers of the day take their leave, and your remaining coworkers start dimming the lights and bidding their goodbyes. From the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook bowing respectfully to the band, who were giving him friendly pats on the back for a job well done. Jimin walks toward you, his car keys dangling from his left pinky. 

“No thanks. I’ll take the bus home today,” you declare before he can offer a ride. Jimin opens his mouth like a goldfish, flapping his lips dumbly as he stares at you in shock. You have no idea why he’s so surprised, given how you’ve been making it obvious that you need some space.

He looks like he wants to argue again, but thinks better of it. A singular moment of restraint from Park Jimin, which is an act you once thought impossible. Maybe he does care about you more than you thought. 

He stiffly nods at you, shoving his hands and keys into his pockets. He still has a frown on his face when he tells you to text him when you get home. You flip him off with a shaky smirk in response, a feeble attempt to bring some levity back to your now tense relationship. It works a little, and Jimin brightens up significantly. How simple-minded of him.

With a flippant wave, you leave work and head towards your bus stop. At this hour of the night, the streets are mostly dim, save for some street lamps and bars that stay open longer than your restaurant. There are always some people milling about, enough that you never feel too on edge about how late it is. Still, your bus stop is often empty, leaving you to mull over your thoughts in peace.

You are in the midst of jamming your earbuds into your ear when a presence makes itself known beside you.

Is it possible to go through the five stages of grief in under a second? You suppose not, but it’s hard to tell what sort of emotions swim through you when you come face to face with Jeon Jungkook again.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you mutter under your breath. You pause the song playing on your phone to glare at him with as much venom as you can muster. 

Jungkook holds up his hands in surrender, doe eyes wide like prey. “I-I’m heading home too! I’m not following you, I swear!”

You groan internally. Figures that you and Jungkook take the same bus home. But hold on— “Don’t you have a car? I remember you were parked near the restaurant the other night,” you note, squinting at him.

Jungkook looks sheepish as he rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. That car was my hyung’s. He lets me borrow it sometimes, but he needed it tonight.”

“Sure…” You level him with a skeptical frown. You remember his hyung, but don’t recall him ever owning a car. You aren’t even sure that his Namjoon-hyung is allowed by the country to drive a car, much less own one. 

He could be lying, but you don’t want to give him an excuse to continue any conversation. So, you busy yourself with your phone and keep your head bowed away from him.

When the bus arrives, Jungkook makes it a point to sit a few rows behind you. Thankfully, he has a better understanding of social cues than a certain Park that you know. He leaves you alone, but your entire body still feels like a rope pulled taut. You have to convince yourself not to look behind you, your morbid curiosity scratching your insides raw.

You are in the home stretch now, and it’ll only be a few more minutes before you get to your stop and make your way to your safe haven. Hell resumes the next day and the next, but at the very least you’ll have your home to yourself. No one could take that away from you.

Again, this is where you learn that tempting fate is never a good idea.

When you exit the bus at your stop, you can hear his footsteps following you. It’s hard not to notice, especially when his large and distracting boots make such a distinct racket that makes him so Jungkook. 

You hasten your pace towards your apartment complex, your shoulders hunched and hands shoved into your coat pockets in an attempt to hinder the bile rising from your stomach. He had promised that he wasn’t following you, but that proclamation seems to be standing on feeble legs with how long he’s been on your tail now.

Your street is filled with rows of low-rise apartment buildings, so you hope that if anything happens, you can yell as loud as you can and alert some compassionate neighbor to come to your aid. (Not that you think he would ever physically harm you, but… You can’t say the same about your mental state.)

Your home is just two buildings away from where you are, but Jungkook still seems determined to follow you to the end. You all but skip the remaining feet to your apartment entrance, your breath coming out in puffs as you finally muster up the courage to face your supposed stalker and give him a piece of your mind. 

“If this is some convoluted way for you to find out where I live, then you aren’t being very subtle about it,” you say, your chin held up high despite the growing urge to vomit pathetically in front of your ex-boyfriend. You have your hand rested on the doorknob, just a moment’s notice away from bolting into your house if the need for a quick getaway arises.

To your surprise, Jungkook wasn’t following you as closely as you expected. He had stopped trailing you about two buildings down, his own hand poised on the door with a look of genuine shock.

You both stand there, staring at each other as mutual understanding dawns on the two of you. 

Everyday, the universe learns of more creative ways to be cruel.

“Oh…” Jungkook’s voice falters. He looks simultaneously frightened and amazed, as if he too finds this entire situation unbelievably harsh. He swallows thickly, looking at you and back to his door in quick succession. “Well… This is a strange coincidence,” he murmurs. 

You want to believe that this was his entire fault, that Jungkook had somehow managed to track you down to haunt you for the rest of your days. You want to believe that he’s a crazed stalker who is willing to find where you work and live so that every hour of your wretched life is filled with nothing but reminders of what-could-have-beens. You just want someone to blame instead of just the cosmos—you want someone tangible to hate so that your suffering can be given some sort of identity. You want to give your mourning and hurt a name so that you can learn how to heal.

You want to believe all of that, but it’s hard to do so when Jungkook looks so incredibly uncomfortable, as if he’d rather melt into the shadows and never be seen again. 

In all your memories, you have never seen Jungkook look so small.

You heave a big sigh, your fingers grasping the door knob so tightly that you half-expect it to be dented from the force. You linger for a moment, your mouth opening but nothing spills out. 

What is there to say? What do you say to an ex-boyfriend that you haven’t seen in two years, who is suddenly so deeply entwined in your life once more? Do you tell him goodnight? Tell him to stay away? Tell him to come home with you?

Jungkook looks equally as conflicted. His lips are pursed tight with words left unsaid. You aren’t sure whether you want to punch the confession out of his mouth or seal them up forever. It feels like eons before he finally breaks the silence with a mirthless laugh.

“I… I just wanted to say—back at the restaurant. When I sang that last song,” Jungkook begins, and his voice feels loud because of how empty the streets are. For a moment, you are reminded of a cathedral you once visited during a vacation, how sacred silence can be. The world holds its breath, waiting for him to speak.

“I meant it all. Every word. Every lyric. I never stopped…”

He trails off, shrugging his shoulders. He stares at you helplessly, but you don’t know what to say. You don’t want to listen any more, but your feet are planted to the ground. You’re frozen like a deer in headlights, forced to brace against him as he crashes into you. 

He continues, “And when we broke up back then… I never wanted that to happen. You broke it off before we could even try something—and I hated how I didn’t fight for you harder. I let you misunderstand me because I was afraid you wouldn’t want to stick around if I didn’t succeed. I convinced myself that I was holding you down, but I never gave you—us—a chance. I never stopped regretting it since.”

“Me? Break up with you?” You echo incredulously. That statement is enough to break you from your trance, the telltale signs of indignation rising up your chest. “How dare you suggest—Me? You were the one who broke up with me, asshole! You were the one who broke my heart and decided to up and leave to god knows where! Only to miraculously respawn right next to me, groveling at my feet with sad love songs as if that’s enough for me to forgive and forget? Fucking entitled bastard,” you seethe.

Somehow, Jungkook manages to shrink more, like a bunny with his tail tucked between his legs. “Yes, you’re right that I broke your heart but… When I told you I was moving away to try and become a singer, it was always with the intention of staying together. I know it would have been difficult, but I wanted you to be with me through thick and thin. But when you misunderstood and took it as a break up, I let you go because, well… I was scared that it would happen eventually. Who wants to date a broke busking fool anyway?”

He laughs, but it sounds watery. He sniffles, and you hope it's only because of the cold. “I tried looking for you, but you blocked me everywhere and no one from back home seemed to know where you went. So I just accepted that we’d never see each other again… Until a few days ago, that is.”

A misunderstanding? Is that what everything boils down to? Years of trying to build yourself back up again, relearning what it means to be happy—all the fallen domino pieces in your life trailing back to a single moment in time? All because Jungkook was scared that you didn't love him enough?

You’ve never felt angrier in your life. You fear what you might say if you continue to stand outside there, face to face with the singular person strong enough to whittle you down to the bone. Jeon Jungkook is all soft smiles and sweet songs, but how come he’s always able to knock you off your axis? Few people on this earth can stitch you up and break you down in equal measure, but somehow, Jungkook manages to do all that and more.

Then, comes the guilt. Had it been all your fault? That you hadn't returned his love in equal measure? Had you secretly given up on the hope of being on his level? Always looking down on yourself: unable to move past your insecurities. Were you terrified of being his side piece, his girlfriend, forever?

Who are you, even? And where do you stand?

(Beside him, is what you want to answer. You don't know if that's the right choice.)

You can’t bear to look at him, least of all answer him. Without another word, you shove your house key into the door before slamming it shut despite the late hour. If you awaken any neighbors, you’ll apologize later. For now, all you require is sleep and hope that this has been all a terrible nightmare.

xxx

Reality is a bitter pill to swallow.

Jeon Jungkook continues to sing at the restaurant, and after only two days of repeat stellar performances, your manager decides to promote him as the official vocalist for the band. It hurts to admit that you're not the least bit surprised; you might have a hard time looking at him, but you can never deny his talent. 

His song list has added a larger variety of genres ever since his first performance. That is to say, he isn’t always singing about lost loves and tragic couples every night. Perhaps it is due to some requests from customers or his other bandmates, but it doesn’t stop him from sprinkling one or two love songs into the mix. 

He doesn’t sing any original songs ever again. That, at least, is a small mercy. He doesn’t make any moves to speak with you either, despite the daily awkward trips back home after the end of your shifts. Whether that’s because he’s given up on you (again), or he’s waiting for you to make the first move, you don’t know. Frankly, you don’t think you have the energy (nor courage) to do anything about it.

It’s a few weeks after Jungkook’s first performance at the restaurant, and closing time is approaching. You appreciate Friday nights the most because it means you’ll have two consecutive days to relax and avoid your problems. It’s also the busiest night of the week, when white-collar workers decide to drink and eat for as long as the night allows them. Busier nights mean more distractions, and you’re willing to deal with twenty Karens over one Jungkook.

During nights like these, your manager occasionally asks you to fulfill some waitress duties when there aren’t enough hands on deck. Normally you’d hate it, but earning the extra tips is enough to keep your grumbling to a minimum To this day, your landlord has yet to do anything about your broken shower, and you’ve finally conceded to the fact that you’ll have to be the one to do something about it. 

As you inform the customers in your area that the last call for orders is approaching, you sneak a glance at the bar to see Jimin dutifully performing his job. That is to say, he’s flirting up a storm, getting women and men alike to blush from head to toe as he serves their drinks with a salacious smirk.

What a swindler, you think to yourself, snorting when he makes eye contact with you. He gives you a cheeky salute, mouthing something as he gestures to the back door.

Despite the semi-fight the two of you had all those weeks ago, Jimin was never one to argue about the same topic two days in a row. When you saw him the next day after your confrontation with Jungkook, Jimin was back to all smiles. You still catch him sending death glares towards Jungkook on most nights, but he doesn’t bring up the matter with you anymore. For that reason, you’ve gratefully settled back into your weird, banterful friendship with him. Even if there’s still a lingering tension between the two of you that you refuse to acknowledge.

You nod thankfully back at him, excited to go to his house and take a much needed shower. At this point, going to his house has become second nature to you, and it gives you an excuse to not see Jungkook at your regular bus stop every day. You have half a mind to never fix your shower for that reason, but of course there is still the problem of having to deal with Jimin every time you need to bathe. You hardly consider yourself an impatient person, but Jimin likes to toe the line far more often than necessary.

You’re down to your last two tables before you can close up shop when your manager suddenly barrels right into your path. You nearly drop your tray of dirty dishes to the floor, holding in a loud yelp as your suspiciously stern-faced manager halts you in place.

“Ms. Y/N, may I have a word with you for a moment? It’s regarding your paycheck for the month,” he barks, lips downturned. He appears disgruntled about something, and it sends a worried shiver down your spine. And here you thought Fridays are meant to be fun. He doesn’t wait for you to reply before he stalks back to his office, an unspoken command for you to follow. 

You unload your dishes in the kitchen before making your way to his office. The small, dark room is cramped with overflowing file folders and coupons from multiple take-out places. You accidentally step on a stack of papers, and upon further inspection, seem to be a pile of applications for new hires. You distinctly remember complaining to him months prior about being understaffed and him replying that no inquiries were coming in.

As you approach, your manager shuffles through your coworkers pay stubs, and you notice yours and Jungkook’s on top of the piles. 

Manager Jeong clears his throat. “Well, Y/N. It seems to be your lucky day. As you know, we split the tips based on your hours and what sort of duties you fulfill. With the new hire we have as our in-house singer, we’ve had to split it one way more to accommodate his arrival. However, he has recently requested to me that his portion be reallocated… to you, Ms. Y/N.”

Your jaw drops immediately. “I-I don’t understand, Manager Jeong,” you sputter. 

Manager Jeong snorts, bemused by your reaction. “Don’t understand? Well, I suppose you’ll have to ask Mr. Jeon if you want his reasoning. Regardless, since we normally deposit your salary straight to your bank account, would it be alright if I hand you his tips in cash for now? He only informed me about his request an hour ago, and the accountant has already clocked out for the week.”

All you can do is nod dumbly back at him. With a huff, your manager presses a white envelope into your hands before promptly ushering you out of his office. “Well, that's settled. Out you go! Have a good weekend, Ms. Y/N. Don’t forget to lock the register before you leave!” He calls out before slamming his door in your face.

It takes you a moment to reanimate back to life. You stare at the white envelope for a long while, unable to fathom the scribbled out name of Jeon Jungkook replaced with your own name. Then, you crumple it into your fist before stomping over to where Jungkook and the rest of the band are in the middle of packing it up for the night.

Jungkook looks up from his guitar case when he senses you fast approaching. For a fleeting second, a smile graces his handsome face before it’s smacked away by your crumpled envelope. 

“Keep your fucking cash, Jungkook. What the hell is your problem?” You fume, cheeks heating from agitation. Jungkook splutters for a moment, prying the envelope away from his face and looking at it in bewilderment. When he sees it clearly, recognition dawns on his face, followed by guilt.

“It’s just… my way of saying sorry, I guess.” He answers you meekly, neck flushing red in embarrassment. Behind him, the rest of the band grow silent at the scene before them, and you debate on telling them to mind their own business when they quicken their pace to leave.

“Well, keep your apology to yourself. There’s nothing to apologize for,” you correct him with a frown. To offer an apology is to offer accountability. You aren’t sure if you’re ready to hear him say that. 

“No, it’s a sorry for… using you, I suppose.”

“Using me?” You repeat, dumbfounded. “For what?”

Jungkook smiles wryly back at you. “For inspiration?” he clarifies. For being the reason I can sing? He leaves that part unsaid, but you can almost imagine him saying it. 

You feel heat rising to your cheeks again, but this time you aren’t quite sure if it’s from embarrassment, anger… or something else.

Unable to conjure up a response to his simple confession, you stomp away from him with a pounding heart and shaking hands. You continue the rest of your closing shift routine instinctually, your body moving on autopilot as Jungkook’s words continue to ring inside your head. When all is said and done, Jimin makes his way to your station with a questioning stare, but you wave him off in favor of stomping ahead of him to the parking lot.

In his car, Jimin rattles off about his latest exploits and purchases, his grating voice a comfort for once. You hum noncommittally during his stories when appropriate, but you suppose your usual indifference feels different, even to Jimin's untrained ears. 

At his house, you drift to his bathroom immediately. You already have a shirt button undone by the time you get a handle on the door when Jimin’s hand stops you in place. You can feel his warmth emanating against your back as he slowly pulls the bathroom door close. With a tired sigh, you reluctantly turn to face him and find him standing closer than you expected.

He has an arm resting above your head, effectively caging you. You feel your shoulders sag. Damn, here comes another confrontation. Why can’t everyone just leave you alone?!

“Talk to me,” he says. No, he demands.

You push him away weakly, but he hardly budges. “Nothing to talk about,” you lie. Had you no filter, you’d be word vomiting all over the place ages ago.

Jimin groans, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Enough with the emotional constipation. I’m here to listen, alright? No teasing or anything, I’m all ears and maybe a shoulder to cry on. Just don’t stain my Chanel top too bad,” he jokes.

You puff out a short breath—a sorry excuse for a laugh. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to talk about it, and that’s that.”

“It’ll make you feel a lot better, though,” he offers.

You scoff. “What makes you think that? What if I just want to ignore all my problems forever and never grow from it? Is that so bad?”

Jimin pushes himself away from you, raising his hands in mock defeat. “You’re so fucking annoying. Can you stop running away from your problems and talk to me? Hell, talk to Jungkook for all I care! Just stop being a doormat and speak your mind for once in your damn life!”

“What are you, my therapist?” You brush past him, shower all but forgotten. You begin toeing your shoes back on, ready to head home tired and smelly. At the very least, you won’t have to deal with this stupid annoying asshole any longer. 

Jimin strides back towards you, but for once he doesn’t do anything to forcibly stop you. Jimin has always been gruff with you, not afraid to push and pull you in any which direction. It’s part of the reason why you can’t take him seriously, even though you’ve recently realized why he was always being such a prick towards you—

“Yeah, I’m not your therapist. But for better or for worse, I’m your friend and I—I fucking care about you, alright? And it sucks seeing that good-for-nothing stick his nose in your business and act like he can do anything without any repercussions.”

Is Jimin being for real right now? “With how often you look at yourself in the mirror, you’d think you’d be better at introspection,” is all you say to that. You shove your feet into your shoes, not caring that you’ve probably put them on wrong. Maybe it’s because it’s Friday and the fatigue from the week has finally settled deep in your bones, but you can’t help but leave one last scathing remark to drive the final nail in the coffin.

“You know, if you were a little nicer to me, maybe I would talk to you. Hell, maybe I’d like you back. But no, just keep being your domineering, asshole self and I’ll keep being the same fucking doormat bitch you know and love,” you spit, turning towards the door and away from his face. You’re not even curious to see how he reacts. “I don’t need protection, alright? When I tell you to stay out of my business, you stay out of it. So don’t try and pretend to be my knight in shining armor.”

There’s an ocean of silence, enough to hear a pin drop. The urge to apologize surges to the surface, but you stamp it down. He’s petty all the time, so now it’s your turn.

Okay, maybe that’s a little too mean on your part, but you’re exhausted. Perhaps it is true when they say you should never act on your anger when it’s past midnight. But can anyone blame you? You’re only a girl, and girls need to snap too. 

When he responds, his voice sounds weak. Park Jimin, weak? It's almost unthinkable. "Why don't you trust me?"

Isn't it obvious? you want to say. But some mercy remains within you. You'll pick up the pieces another time. Instead, you rasp out, “Good night, Park. I’ll see you on Monday.”

The walk of shame back to your house is long and arduous. Your phone dings thrice, likely signaling texts from Jimin, but you turn it off without checking for sure. For once, the weight on your shoulders is slightly lighter. You huff out a dry laugh, realizing belatedly that maybe Jimin is right—maybe speaking your mind has its benefits.

There’s a small park in your neighborhood that you always pass by. You don’t remember the last time you spared it a second glance, but this time you notice a lone figure swinging back and forth, arching dangerously higher than what you would consider safe. From a distance, all you can make out are the person’s comically bright boots, and you have a sinking suspicion you know who it is without seeing their face.

Cosmos, or whoever it is that controls my life, why must you braid our strings of fate so tightly? You ask, but as always, it refuses to reply.

Against your better judgment, your feet bring you closer towards him. He has his back towards you, his feet pumping him higher and higher and you half expect him to swing in a perfect arc like a gymnast on parallel bars. You have to keep your distance a bit, lest you get the wind knocked out of you by his signature stompers. 

You clear your throat, and the boy stops mid-swing and nearly catapults himself into the spongey, playground floor. Hunched over and wheezing, Jungkook directs his shocked eyes at you with a comical stare. 

You raise a hand in greeting. A peace offering, maybe. “Hello—”

“I swear I’m not stalking you!” Jungkook interrupts as he scrambles to his feet. He bows deeply in remorse, the action so endearingly him. “S-sorry, I’ll make my way home now…”

“I don’t own the park, Jungkook. I was just saying hello…” You snort, wringing your hands uncomfortably. You grind your shoes into the ground, the sound of crunching leaves breaking the still air. “A-and… to say sorry, for earlier.”

“Sorry?” Jungkook repeats, confused. When he realizes what you mean, he waves his hands frantically. “No, no! Don’t be sorry! It was my fault for being so inconsiderate. I understand how you might misconstrue my actions, and I made things more awkward. I’ll consider your feelings more in the future…”

In the future… You cough, unwilling to meet his bright and honest gaze. If you stare too long, you fear you might go blind. 

“I come here to the park often, when I feel too cramped inside my apartment,” Jungkook explains, frantic energy radiating off him in waves. He’s gesticulating too much, a clear sign that he’s trying to hide his nerves. You remember how he would do the same thing in high school, whenever he had to present his projects in front of the class. 

You hold a hand up, a weak attempt to get him to calm down. “I’m not here to interrogate you. I just wanted to…” What is it that you wanted to do?

The two of you just stand awkwardly like that, similar to a few weeks ago when you discovered you were neighbors. You’re grasping at straws in your head, both conflicted for wanting to tell him something and running away. Even if you were to talk to him, what would you say? There’s a reason you told Jimin you didn’t want to talk—frankly, it’s mostly because you have no idea what to say or feel. 

But you do know, the universe responds. 

I ask you questions all the time, and this is how you respond? 

Either that, or you’re going insane, the universe remarks.

Jungkook pulls out his phone, his fingers fumbling as he unlocks it. He takes a furtive step towards you, but thinks better of it. There’s a few feet of distance between you, but it feels like worlds apart. Close and yet so far. You recall how you’d easily pull him towards you in the past, how being together felt as natural as breathing. 

“I know you absolutely hated it the last time I played my original song at the restaurant, so I refrained from performing any ever since that night. But that didn’t stop me from writing them. I was fine with keeping them locked in a vault forever, but…” He hesitates, searching you for any signs of discomfort. When he sees the carefully blank look on your face, he continues with trepidation. 

“Can I try a song for you? You don’t have to say yes, and you’re free to tell me to fuck off and I’ll never even look at you ever again. Just…” He flails one last time, a choked sob making its escape from his throat. 

Are you hopeless for wanting to say yes? Or were you reverting back to your old self who relied on him and believed in him so heavily? If you wanted him out of your life for good, you would have quit your job at the first sight of him. Maybe you were masochistic. Or maybe were you hopeful for a new start, a chance to rekindle a relationship that you’ve secretly always wanted to repair.

You have so much life ahead of you. Many more mistakes will be made and maybe they’ll haunt you when you’re older. But would it really be such a terrible gamble to take one more chance? 

You nod, and seal your fate.

He presses play, and the soft strumming of a guitar fills the empty playground air. 

Not for the first time, you wonder how it can be so easy for Jungkook to be so… honest. He spills his heart in every song that he writes, and you know he’s never been a great liar. He can’t help it, being genuine is in his DNA. This crashing waterfall, this boy with overflowing emotions—he sings what he thinks but feels terrified because of it. You might not understand his honesty, but you know that fear. You know it all too well.

He beholds himself to you—raw and unfiltered. A little battered and bruised, but still Jungkook. Behind everything, still the boy you’ve been yearning for.

Maybe this song is what will give you enough confidence to admit everything to him, too. As you stand there, listening to his mellow voice sing confessions to no one but you and the stars, you think you grow a little more courageous that day.

Maybe you won’t be able to tell him tonight. Maybe not tomorrow, nor next week either. But as you gaze back at his hopeful eyes, you know deep in your heart that you’ll find the words you’ve been looking for.

“I’ll keep waiting for you, if you let me.” Jungkook’s voice floats gently to you, and settles in your open palms. This time, you don’t let go

xxx

Months later, Jungkook stops working at the restaurant when an offer from a major record company arrives in his mail. Apparently, a big shot from the local radio station had pitched him to an employee at that company and they were all pleasantly surprised to find a hidden gem at a random bar and restaurant.  

In your apartment, you stare outside your window and to where his home is—well, where it was. You wonder if he finished packing his things, ready to make the big move tomorrow. You stand up with a stretch, sparing a glance at your still broken shower. It would be nice to have one more shower at his place… And after that? Maybe you should start looking for a nicer apartment; somewhere far away might be nice.

Your phone rings, and you see his contact photo light up your screen. With a smile, you answer.

“Come over, if you want. I won’t make you,” Jungkook assures you. 

You laugh lightly, already halfway out the door. 

#bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bangtan #bts #bts fanfic

[nickfowlerrr]

the truth is this

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader (friends to lovers)

warnings: fluff, kissing, very slightly edging on heavy petting, mention of an erection, no smut but still 18+ only.

words: 2.9k

notes: loosely based on these prompts: platonic forehead kisses starting to give u the feels. LIKE ITS SOMETHING MAGICAL. and "is that really all 'A' is to you?" thank you so much to @anthony-sharma for the request! thank you in advance for reading and as always, feedback and reblogs are more than welcome and so appreciated!

"So you're telling me you didn't notice the way she was looking at you just now?" Sam asked skeptically.

"I'm telling you I have no idea what you're talking about," Bucky rebuffed, his brows furrowing in agitation.

"Well I do know what I'm talking about. I'm talking about you and her finally pulling your heads out of your asses and realizing you like each other."

"No shit we like each other, Sam. She's one of my best friends."

"Is that really all she is to you?" he questioned pointedly.

Bucky stopped in his retreat as he took in Sam's words. He instantly knew his answer, but still told himself had to think about it. Because although his thoughts were flowing with all of the things you were to him, all things that went way beyond the scope of just friendship, he was still too scared to admit it to himself, let alone anyone else.

Sam watched as Bucky swallowed hard, his jaw tightening and brows furrowed even more. It looked as if he was blinking away his thoughts when he finally looked back at Sam. An annoyed look taking over his features once again. He didn't say anything, just grumbled in response before he continued out of the room.

For nearly three hours after the little confrontation he had with Sam, Bucky raged with himself in the privacy of his own room. His head was swirling and he could barely keep track of what part of him was winning the argument until a knock came on his door.

Not just any knock, your knock. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was expecting you, he had just lost track of time with the internal struggle he had been trying to sort out.

Something changed, though, when he heard you. All thoughts of not acknowledging his feelings, in part to not wreck what he already had with you, went right out the window.. kinda.

He could accept the true depth of his feelings for you, but he'd be damned if he spoke them aloud until he knew that there'd be no shot at hurting your friendship if you didn't feel the same.

Sam's words came back to him as he considered that you didn't. The way she looked at you...

How had you looked at him? Were all the signs there and he was just blind to them? Well, he'd be sure to pay close attention tonight. See if he could see what Sam saw.

He got to the door and opened it for you, greeting you with a smile as you walked into his room and instantly wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug. When you pulled back ever so slightly, peering up at him with sparkling eyes, Bucky swore he felt himself get weak in the knees.

Your smile was the most beautiful thing to him. He'd do anything to get one out of you, though he really didn't have to try all that hard. Your usually stoic demeanor, or resting bitch face as Kate had called it, was rarely ever broken; but as the rest of the team noticed long ago, Bucky seemed to have a knack for breaking it quite easily.

It was like you just couldn't help your smile when he was around. You'd always get more talkative and seemed a lot more approachable than when you were alone. It wasn't like you were a mean person, far from it, you just had a bit of an intimidating presence most of the time. You were a quiet person and weren't typically the most open. It wasn't something you put on, it was just your natural disposition. One of the reasons you and Bucky had gotten so close so quickly was because he was one of the only people to not have been put off by your introversion; he wasn't hesitant to talk to you, in fact, the moment he had seen you, he just had this feeling that you and him would get along swell. And he was right.

He'd gone up to you and introduced himself, and you gave him your name with a small smile in return. You and Bucky had a lot in common and though it took you a little while, you soon found yourself more comfortable around Bucky than you had been with anyone else...ever.

You guys could talk for ages and never bore, or you could sit in each other's silence comfortably for hours on end, not needing anything other than each other's company.

Neither of you realized how close you had gotten or how you appeared inseparable until it started getting pointed out by everyone else.

Repeatedly.

Over and over again.

Whether it was playful jokes at your mutual expense during meetings, or pestering whispers in your ears by your friends trying to bring your attentions to what everyone else could already see, to what everyone had seen from the very start of your and Bucky's friendship: That it was so definitely more than just friendship.

He wasn't sure what it was about Sam's comments this time that finally had him taking it seriously. Maybe it was because he felt it too. And truthfully, he always had, but maybe he just couldn't keep pushing the thoughts away. Maybe... maybe it was because he knew deep down, the love he felt for you was way more than just platonic. Maybe he finally realized that he was well and truly in love with you, and maybe he had a bit of hope burning bright that you felt the same way.

Bucky collects himself as he gazes into your eyes, feeling like if he stares too long he'll lose himself to you completely. But he really doesn't think he'd mind one bit. You pretty much have him already.

"So," you breathe as you begrudgingly pull away from his warmth, "did you decide? Movie or tv show?" you ask as you step past him further into his room.

He shuts his door before turning and following you to the kitchenette where you easily find the stash of candy Bucky keeps for your "movie" nights.

"Uhhh, you pick," he says as you pass him once again, heading to the couch and throwing your stockpile of sweets on the coffee table before you as you get comfortable.

"Okay," you agree, grabbing the remote and scrolling through the titles to find something at least halfway decent to put on.

Your eyes flick over to Bucky and you realize he's still wearing the clothes he had on earlier while you're in your pajamas, like you always are on movie night.

"Why are your clothes still on?" you ask as you peer up at him from your spot on the couch.

Bucky's breath catches in his throat as his heart nearly stops beating entirely, heat rising to his cheeks. In the same moment your eyes widen as you hear yourself and your breath stutters for just a second. Why did you say it like that? you chide yourself. Wishful thinking, some other part of your brain snickers. You push the thought away. Inappropriate.

"Huh?" Bucky asks, though he heard you full well.

"I mean, you're not in your pajamas," you clarify.

"Right, yeah, I uh, I was a bit distracted before you got here," he admits as he absentmindedly rubs the back of his neck. "I'm gonna change, you put something on. I'll be right back."

Bucky changes his clothes quickly and returns to you just as you find something to put on.

You watch him enter the room and laugh as you note that you're kinda matching now. You're both in gray sweats and as you wear a black long sleeve v-neck, Bucky has on a short sleeve v-neck in the same color.

Bucky notices as you do, "I swear this wasn't on purpose," he chuckles as he settles down next to you.

You titter as you start the movie and adjust in your seat to get more comfortable. And by more comfortable, you really just meaning scooting over to be closer to Bucky.

Bucky watches you as you move to be closer to him, smiling to himself as he realizes you're trying to be cool about it, trying to not make it too obvious. It's cute, but he really doesn't mind. In fact, the closer you are the happier he is. Your thigh brushes his as you keep a bit of space between your upper body and his chest.

Bucky fights off the urge to grab your legs and pull them into his lap but he can't fight the urge he has to pull you in closer.

His arm comes around your right side as he pulls you into him. You look up at him in a bit of surprise, but he doesn't return your gaze, he keeps his eyes set on the screen before him.

You blink in wonder before you look back at the screen too. You bite your lip to keep from smiling at his unexpected action and settle into his hold, scootching closer as you recline against him and let his hand rest on the curve of your waist meeting your hip.

You feel like you’d been dropping hint after hint, purposefully, these past two weeks after a long night of talking with Sam and Nat when you were finally able to put a name to your feelings; the realization you had entirely fallen for your best friend was maybe a bit pulled out of you by them but it was true nonetheless.

You’d stopped holding yourself back the way you normally did when it came to touches and hugs lately, hoping maybe Bucky would get the hint and you wouldn’t have to say it outright.. at least not first.

Admittedly, you could feel the tiniest bit of awkwardness - or maybe tension was the better word, between you and him at the moment. Not entirely unpleasant, but still it was there. At least it had been for a minute. But soon as Bucky settled his hand on your hip, that all faded as soon as it appeared. It was completely comfortable, it felt right, being this close to him. Though, truthfully, it always felt right when Bucky around.

As you fought your smile and Bucky’s hand gently squeezed your hip unconsciously, your heart warmed. Maybe he was finally picking up on what you were trying to do and hopefully the reason why.

Sam and Nat had been sure to let you know it was obvious that he felt the same for you, but still you were nervous to come right out with it.

Slow and steady, you remind yourself. No need to rush things anyway. You’d rather him come to the same realization you had on his own time, not yours.

But god, you hoped he really felt the same.

Bucky takes a peek down at you once he feels your eyes are off of him. He smiles to himself at how perfect this is. How comfortable you both are with the more intimate touches, despite neither of you bringing it up. It just feels natural.

So natural, he isn't really thinking much when he leans down and places a gentle kiss to your forehead. When he catches himself doing it, he zeros in on your reaction to it. It's not like he hadn't done it before, but any time he had it was usually in parting, as customary for you guys as a hug.

This was clearly more intimate. A show of affection he wanted to give you, no other reason than that.

He admires the soft fluttering of your lashes and the way you lean further into him, letting your head rest on his chest.

For half a second, he sees you worry you've made a mistake as he pulls his arm from around you but when he gently takes hold of your chin and turns you to face him, time seems to stand still as you gaze at one another.

You wait with bated breath as you search his bright eyes that are gleaming down at you. He can hear the change in the rhythm of your heartbeat and as he lets his eyes flit to your lips, he swears he hears the sharp intake of air you breathe as your eyes fall to his own lips before returning to his stare.

The next thing he knows, Bucky is holding your gorgeous face in his hands before he leans in closer and takes your lips in his. It's slow and gentle as he takes his time savoring your first kiss. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registers your hands on his as you return the kiss, and it quickly turns a bit more fervent. Like you've both been waiting forever for this exact moment to happen.

You pull your legs up onto the couch as you turn and move closer to Bucky. You're not thinking as you straddle his lap, the kiss only growing deeper and more intent with each second that passes.

Your hands leave Bucky's as you move them to stabilize yourself without full on sitting in his lap, one hand behind his neck and the other on the couch behind him. Bucky's own hands find their place on your hips before he pulls you down, forcing you down on his lap.

You moan into his mouth as he grabs a handful of your ass and you feel him growing slightly beneath you.

You have to break the kiss to breathe, both of you panting heavily as you press your forehead to his, nose to nose as you breathe one another in. You can't help the smile that breaks out on your face as you laugh breathily, gripping his neck as you shake your head in disbelief.

You place a soft kiss to his lips once more as he holds you to him.

"Sorry," Bucky begins, though he looks to be the furthest thing from it as he smiles that charming smile of his. "I just.. I think I've wanted to do that for a while now. It just felt right."

"You don't have to apologize," you smile softly in turn as you play with the stray hairs curled at the nape of his neck. "I think I've wanted you to do that for a while now. And it did," you breathe with a nod, "it definitely felt right."

"I wanna do more of this," he murmurs against your lips after he places another kiss to yours.

"Me too," you agree with a peck of your own. "I think I wanna make out with you," you muse.

One side of his mouth slants up in a smirk as his hands run up your sides, "I think I want you to make out with me, too," he says, amused before going in for another kiss. You both smile into it and you swear your heart is near bursting as your tummy flutters in your happiness.

"There's something I need to tell you first," he says seriously as he parts just slightly from you.

His hands rubbing up and down your back keep you from worrying as he effortlessly soothes you.

He maintains eye contact as you wait for him to continue.

"I think, - no, I know," he corrects himself. "I love you," he breathes your name as part of his confession.

You move your hand from the couch and gently hold his stubbly cheek instead, thumb rubbing over the skin of his cheek softly.

You smile again, holding his eye as you lean into him before you kiss him slow and deep, trying to get all of the things you're feeling across to him, but most namely, the main one. The love.

You part from him gently as he follows you, mindlessly chasing your lips before catching himself.

He blinks up at you as you perch over him slightly.

"I love you, too, Buck," you nearly whisper as you caress his cheek. "This doesn't change anything, ya know," you add.

He furrows his brow in slight confusion at your words.

You laugh lightly at his expression before continuing, "You're still my best friend. Nothing's gonna change that."

"Wouldn't expect it to," he smiles.

It's quiet between you for a moment before you speak again.

"Promise," you urge softly.

"Promise?"

"Promise nothing's gonna change that," you say as you look down at his chest, moving your idle hand to play with the chain you find there.

"I promise, hey" he says sincerely as he puts two fingers under your chin and has you meet his eye once more, "I promise."

"I don't wanna lose you."

"You won't," he reassures you before suddenly turning you both and flipping you on your back as he leans over you. You gaze up at him a little breathless as you titter.

"Okay," you whisper your trust, your arms reaching up to wrap around his thick neck, pulling him down closer to you.

"Okay," he echos before brushing his lips against yours once more.

The movie is long forgotten as you and Bucky spend the rest of the night completely wrapped up in one another. Talking, touching, just being with each other. The way you were always meant to. It was comfortable, easy. And you couldn't ask for more as you felt entirely whole and at peace in his strong arms promising to never let you go.

#bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x plus size!reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes drabble #bucky x plus size!reader #bucky x curvy!reader #bucky x reader #best friend!bucky x reader #friends to lovers #another day another drabble that turns into a oneshot despite my best efforts #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fic

[kafus]

why dot & episode 41 of pokemon horizons means so much to me as a recovering social recluse

when i got into pokemon horizons i had no idea whatsoever that my favorite character would end up being dot, one of the best handled social recluse characters i've ever seen in a piece of media. pokemon places such a large focus on adventure and travel, meeting new people and pokemon, so really the idea of a respectfully handled social recluse character just didn't seem to fit in with the concept. but now that the environment travels with the characters in the form of an airship, dot was able to be created and my god i love her. as someone who's been a recluse most of my life, even as a child, (i would qualify as a hikikomori and/or NEET at different stages of my life!) who is slowly crawling out of that pit, dot means the world to me.

there's a lot of good episodes that have some level of focus on dot but episode 41 in particular really blew me away and for the sake of my autistic ass desperately wanting to tell people about it i'm going to explain that here in trademark rambling fashion. obviously spoilers ahead - though not just for episode 41, i'm also going to be talking about earlier episodes a little bit. you've been warned!! if you don't want spoilers don't read below the cut ty!!

so episode 41. we meet dot's mother as the viewer who is there to pick up dot from her "trial period" on the brave asagi, learn about how dot ended up on the airship in the first place, and then at the end dot gets to have a showdown against her mother's lycanroc essentially to prove that she wants to, and can, stay permanently on the rising volteccers crew instead of going home. this is a huge turning point in dot's development as a character - at first she was a complete unknown only audible through her bedroom door, irritable to anyone who tried to speak to her, then over the course of the show she's managed to make friends with liko and roy, become a pokemon trainer, enjoy food with other people for seemingly the first time, and even caught tinkatink on her own accord pretty recently. and now this episode allows her to say in her own words that she isn't just on the ship experimentally, or because of murdock, or any other reason - she is choosing to be there and is enjoying learning more about other people and experiencing the outside world. again, this is a huge leap for someone who refused to show her face to the main characters for the first half of the show!

this on its own is already a pretty admirable character arc, one i can relate to, but i am really impressed by & feel seen by the way the writing handles her and that's really apparent in this episode. first i'm going to focus on how the writing and characters in the show respect dot's feelings despite her introversion and reclusion here.

dot's mom (blanca) is introduced to us as incredibly overbearing, to the point of freaking out and sending a bunch of angry stickers when murdock and dot don't immediately respond to her messages. dot's first response to seeing her mom is frustration instead of any level of positive response or excitement, which implies they don't have the best history, even before she actually starts talking about her past. i'm not trying to make this a post about dot's family psychology, maybe another time, but similarly to liko her situation is a bit fucked lmao (though for opposite reasons!)

the thing is - the adults around her are ALSO uncomfortable, in particular murdock, blanca's brother, which conveys a lot about the situation. she's not just some stubborn kid, there's legitimacy to her feelings, because if there wasn't the mature figures in this situation probably wouldn't also be reacting negatively, especially not murdock, dot's other relative here. from incredibly personal experience, it is so easy to wave off the feelings of a child, especially one as "difficult" and reclusive as dot, as just being some sort of phase, but already the writers are directly contrasting murdock, an adult dot is comfortable with who treats her with patience and respect, with blanca, who she evidently is not comfortable with - and they're respecting her feelings by making the adults in the show respect her feelings, too. and they're about to do a whole lot more of contrasting her mother with Everyone and Everything Else!

dot is continued to be understood and respected by the people who know her best in the case of liko and roy choosing to approach her to talk first. dot has run off to her room, where she usually is to get away from people, a very clear sign that she's struggling. liko and roy recognize this and cut blanca off from making the situation worse. which, of course they would, they're her friends and they genuinely care about her and understand how she behaves! they even know how to get her to come out her room without banging on her door and continuously yelling or something like that - direct contrast to them struggling with this much earlier in the show, by the way.

dot is happy to see them and much more willing to talk pretty much immediately, because guess what, they're people who respect her space and her feelings!!!

and once again, when blanca tries to force dot to speak before she's ready to (i mean come on you literally jumped her with this massive thing out of nowhere), liko jumps in and cuts blanca off to defend her and once again respect her feelings in a way that blanca definitely is not.

and finally, when they end up having a pokemon battle with each other...

blanca says this, yet another invalidation of dot's feelings and the way she responds to situations. this line actually made me viscerally uncomfortable, i remember the bitterness and upset i felt when i was a young person and my feelings, especially my frustrations with my parents and the way they handled my introversion, were invalidated on account of my age. "oh, it's just a phase" or "it's just because you're a kid" - just so incredibly frustrating.

and you know what that's followed up with?

dot speaking her fucking mind and kicking her mom's ass baby!!!! get her ass!!! let's GOOO. this part of the episode is so fucking rewarding. it's so good to see this character who has grown so much finally stand up for herself. she still needed a little bit of a push but that's OKAY!! the important part is that she's doing it and the narrative recognizes that! having friends and loved ones to help you out is actually a very essential part of happiness and survival!

and before i delve too far into my personal feelings, i also want to talk about a second thing here; i just find dot's characterization really relatable, like i swear to god there's someone on the writing team who must have been a 12 year old autistic NEET or something. it's literally too fucking on point, it's uncanny, i swear there's times in horizons where dot is just a carbon copy of me when i was a preteen. i mean come on:

dot flopping face down into bed after being overwhelmed in an awkward social situation and being confronted with a situation she's been trying to ignore thus far... the amount of times i have done this in my life, holy shit.

the candidness in which dot speaks about being so interested in the outside world, but being unable to have those experiences for herself as simply a voyeur. the shot of her room being such a disaster because she rarely leaves it and stuff piles up in there, including food junk,

the way she spends all this time alone cultivating skills she's passionate about and then shrugs them off as "just something she likes" when an adult compliments her on her abilities, the contrast between her confidence in what she loves but her complete social awkwardness in talking to anyone about it,

her defining herself on the internet by being a homebody, hell even her cute little freakout about the streamer she likes noticing something she said,

waking up late and missing the activities of other people because her sleep schedule basically doesn't exist while she's at home,

even just her general body language of closing in on herself and holding onto something when she's nervous, hell even her clothing choices which are so obviously meant to be as comfortable as possible for her and easy to take on and off - i could go on forever even just with this episode alone but i think you get the point. i feel so seen by how dot is just in general and it's obvious from both the plot/writing and the way dot is portrayed and animated that the people making this show understand people like me, even the type of person i was as a child, too.

all of this means so much to me because like i said in the intro to this post, i was and still very much am a social recluse. i'm a homebody. even now i still rarely leave my room, i don't eat with family often, i struggle to do things in the "real world". growing up, repeated intrusions into my feelings and my life did not help me, they only made me whiplash further into feeling distant and not listened to by the people around me. they made me want to interact with real life less. finally, as an adult, when people started to give me a bit more space, when the ways i communicate began to be respected a little more, that is when i started making genuinely close and good friendships, that is when i began to venture outside of my room and partake in small joys with people, as a direct result of being given the space and time to do so, to have my own autonomy, to make my own decisions, to be myself. i think it's incredibly easy to see someone curling in onto themself and assume they need a fuckton of intrusive pushing, and sometimes they do need a little push, like how dot's quaxly pushes her to move forward in the moment sometimes, or how liko continuously tried to befriend her, but the important part is that by treading too far over her boundaries it is no longer a productive or respectful way of helping her - it's a balance, and a balance horizons always seems to get right, episode 41 included.

it really means so much to me to see dot's journey into coming out of her shell treated with so much respect by the writing and other characters. so often recluse characters are the butt of the joke, are pushed out of their comfort zones unrealistically fast, or never actually receive the support and growth they need - but horizons strikes the balance of being candid about the type of character dot is and giving respect and space to her feelings so she can grow at her own pace, but still giving her support and little pushes when she needs them, and showing that it's possible to grow and enjoy the real world, even as a recluse. it's refreshing, especially with a character who is a child, and a girl, too! i can count the amount of times i have found a young girl character i relate to at all on one hand, and dot is the best one i've ever seen, personally! horizons has been really inspiring to me to continue to cultivate my connections with others and continue to drag myself out of my shell at my own pace with people who love me, during a really chaotic and transitional part of my life and i really love it for that. i'm glad this episode exists for an infinite multitude of reasons but i really just wanted to talk about this specific aspect for a bit and how it relates back to me as a recovering recluse.

thanks for reading if you got this far jesus christ i talk a lot LOOOL. and i might talk more about my feelings on this episode or dot in general later. i have so much to say about likodot and also about the family dynamics in this show i'm practically eating thru drywall thinking about it rn

#pokemon horizons #anipoke #pokeani #dot #trainer dot #dot pokemon #pokemon #pokemon horizons spoilers #anipoke spoilers #kiki was here #kiki.txt #this got personal but i didnt know how to talk about this episode without making it personal #you have no idea how hard i had to restrain myself from making this way too long #i have so much left to say... later #wink wink nudge nudge you should talk to me about horizons in my asks btw #horizons

[lalal-99]

of timeless love {h.j.} | track 1

©March 2023, February 2024 by lalal-99

Han Jisung x afab!reader | trope: slice of life, coming of age | word count: 2.6k

Synopsis: You and your annoyingly adorable boyfriend Jisung move off to university, to make new friends, find a calling and learn how to live on your own for the very first time in your lives.

Check Chapter Overview for complete list of warnings

Note: I first thought of this story about a year and a half ago. I didn't feel ready at the time, but as I got better over the years, I picked this story up again. Updates might be slow, so bear with me please

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Please don't flag as mature or repost this story - Thank You!

You, 6 years ago, wouldn’t have bought this romantic af, straight out of a fairy-tale storyline.

You going to University? With the love of your life? Like the picture-perfect couple, smiles glued to your face? Nuh-uh. Not you. Not in this lifetime and most likely not in the next dozen—if you ever were so unlucky.

Family, love, college. All of it was bullshit. Temporary.

Nothing good ever lasted. If anything, a dark twist was already lurking around the next corner at any given moment. You couldn’t imagine a dimension in which you were ever happy. Let alone content.

Your 14-year-old emo self would never grow out of the jet-black hair. Or the countless piercings decorating your face. Or those cole-coloured ripped skinny jeans you wore like a second skin. So much you knew. Past-you only ever wanted to gloom through life in a hazy blur. Depressed about My Chemical Romance breaking up and all the other hardships life had already put you through.

That girl would have despised who you had become. Hair grown back to its natural colour. Wearing shirts without some underground metal band’s logo printed on the front. That girl would have likely made fun of you for even thinking about grades. And your future? If you ever had one, your 14-year-old self knew it would include nothing but darkness and despair.

Every teenager around you went through that phase, though you were sure it was more than that. A phase. A short and survivable part of your story. You fully and whole-heartedly believed nothing would ever change about your attitude towards life. It couldn’t, not after everything that had happened.

Overcoming that horrible chapter of your life seemed unimaginable. That you even got the chance to reach out and grab your future by its horns only had one reason. One person who was to become the most meaningful part of your life. Of the same future, he was the reason you even considered having.

Han Jisung.

A boy of innocence and noisy introversion. A boy who, despite having lived through similar trauma as yourself, had a will for life toxic enough to capture you. A boy who you became sure was the closest thing to a soulmate you would ever find.

No one could have prepared you for how hard you’d fall for Jisung. You loved him at his best, worst, and everything between. And you had fallen in love with him despite his lousy sense of humour and silly persona. Or maybe, you had fallen for him because of it. Because he had a similar story to yours but an opposite look at it.

Your 14-year-old, always-depressed, doom-certain-self could have never imagined being with someone like him. Let alone being head-over.heels. All while doing what? Watching him do something so mediocre and none-life changing as buying toothbrushes?

“I don’t know. Which ones do you think?”

Jisung presented you two indistinguishable packs of toothbrushes, waking you from your daydream. Thus, the blurriness faded and your eyes focused on the tiny words on each cover.

“These,” you decided on the left option. “Those bristles are too hard for your gums.”

“Oh, we definitely can’t have that.” With a dramatically disgusted expression, he returned the wrong set to its place on the shelf. “I want to keep at least some of my teeth.”

“Thankfully,” you agreed with a snicker. His words cracked you up more than they should have.

No doubt, your 14-year-old self would have hated yourself six years later.

“Okay. What else is on that magic list of yours?”

“Microwave popcorn and some instant ramen. And we should get some notebooks and highlighters for tomorrow. That’s it.” You listed the remaining articles off the slip of paper while crossing out the products you had retrieved from the hygiene section. “Should we split up?”

“Nah. That’s how they die in horror movies. And I’m not going out in the food court of a 7/11.”

“Fair. How about the Back-to-School aisle then?”

Jisung pondered his reply as he wandered past toothpaste and mouthwash. “Too many pens for people to draw penises on my face. The cleaning section, however? That’s a whole other conversation.”

“How come?”

“Well, there’s bleach and mops already. Also, buckets. So they can simply wheel my corpse away.”

As you walked by the pasta and other canned foods, you picked up a tray of ramen each. For convenience, if anything. Had it not been for the thinness of your wallet, you would have gone for fresher produce. So much for independent living.

With an intensive focus on your absurd conversation—Jisung listing places he would most likely die in if he were a character in a horror movie—you didn’t notice a tray of stacked goods blocking the path. It wasn’t until you bumped your shin on the square-edged tower that you finally took notice.

As a wave of pain swallowed your leg, you left out a shriek. “Gosh freakin’ dang it!”

“You good, baby?” His concern was genuine, though he couldn’t help smiling at your desperate attempt not to swear. “Let me see.”

Jisung kneeled in front of you, noticing a reddening wound once he had dragged the jean fabric up your leg.

“Just a bruise.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one feeling like your skin is being dragged off your flesh.”

“No. But I can make it better.”

He rose to his feet, arms hugging your frame as he picked you up without any effort. You giggled as he heaved you into the cart, careful not to squish the food.

“What are you doing?”

“No girlfriend of mine should have to walk when she’s in pain,” Jisung explained, helping you get settled. Pushing the crushable goods out of the way, you sat on the cans. Not the most comfortable seating, but it worked, nevertheless.

“Damn, those other girls are lu-cky.”

Jisung was pleased at how casually you had joined in on his joke. A smile formed on his lips as he pushed you along the shelves of seasonal produce.

You soon reached the Back-to-School aisle. There you took your sweet time deciding on notebook formats and highlighter colours. It kept surprising you how much fun it was to go grocery shopping when done with the right people. Everything was about 50 percent less boring because of Jisung. Jisung and his ability to find something ridiculous in anything and everything.

After you had made some other critical decisions—like which folders would make organising the year easiest, the ones with dogs or flowers in front—you finished up your school-supply-run.

When you reached the cash register, you noticed the strange looks the other customers gave you. Two young adults strolling through a supermarket, pushing each other in grocery carts? Definitely side-eye-worthy.

Maybe you would have cared more had you not been so enticed by Jisung’s mindless humming of Can’t Take My Eyes Off You.

“What?” Jisung questioned your glances as he started unloading the items from the cart.

“Nothing.” You joined him, unloading all the trays of food you had picked minutes earlier. “This feels weird. Going grocery shopping together. Feels grown-up somehow.”

“We go grocery shopping once a week,” he declared with a thoughtful pout.

“But that’s different.”

After you had emptied out your purchase, he wheeled you further down the band. The woman behind the cash register seemed equally interested in you as all the customers. Soon enough, she continued doing her job.

“You mean because we didn’t have to pay for it ourselves?” He held his hand to his heart as if heartbroken. “I miss your dad, too. Always so kind, paying for all our stuff.”

You chuckled at his playful sincerity.

“No, idiot.” As Jisung reloaded the cart, you payed for this week’s necessities. “Because we’re grocery shopping on our own, living off at uni. We have officially moved out of our home, living in the big city. It’s— new. That’s it.”

As soon as you had reached the exit, you picked reached for the strawberries, unable to abstain any longer. Strolling towards his car, you handed one over to your boyfriend while sucking on your own. Like the gentleman he was, Jisung helped you jump from the car and you packed everything into the trunk.

Once you had placed the cart back by the others, you finally headed home. Or rather, the dorm room you would be living in for the next four years.

You weren’t at that point of calling it your home yet.

A comfortable silence surrounded you throughout your drive. It remained while you stacked away your half of the food back at your place and lasted until you finished. This sort of silence wasn’t uncommon these many years into your relationship—you hardly noticed it anymore.

“Man, all this talk about horror movies makes me want to watch one.” That you hadn’t mentioned this topic for over 30 minutes seemed irrelevant.

“But you’re horrible with horror movies,” you pointed out.

“Not when you’re there to protect me.”

An hour later you were sprawled out on your bed, the last sweet strawberry long gone.

With your legs entangled, Jisung’s face rested on your chest as you massaged his scalp. After minutes of fruitless discussion, Spiderman was now webbing his way through your laptop screen. In the end, it really didn’t matter what movie was playing. It never did as long as you were with each other.

Not even 20 minutes into the movie, Jisung had fallen asleep on top of you. His faint snoring was now mere background noise as you followed the plot, ehich wasn’t as simple as it sounded. Your energy was more than drained from running around all day.

Only three days ago, you had still been back home. Packing for your upcoming move to a new city, two hours from every place you had grown up in. The one thing keeping you calm throughout the stress was your sweetheart-boyfriend. To no one’s surprise. He was the only person able to keep you sane when all you wanted was to scream and cry. Had you not had him by your side, you would have drowned in all the noise your brain usually produced.

His ability to calm your nerves when you needed him to—know when to make you laugh or when to distract you from your everyday stresses—surprised you to this day. You couldn’t begin to explain how you had been lucky enough to find someone like him. Someone you loved as much as you had seen your parents do when you were younger. Let alone how he loved you the same way, almost self-destructively so.

Your 14-year-old self would have called bs. But that girl was someone else—you, but in another lifetime. You but pre-Jisung.

When the door to your room rushed open, it pulled you from your quiet slumber. You had turned off the lights earlier to set the mood but still knew the intruder was your roommate. Besides you two, only Jisung knew the code to your dorm—a decision you had previously discussed with your new roomie, of course. Seeing as he was knocked out on top of you, you could cross him off your list of possible visitors at 8 pm on a Monday.

Adapting her eyes to the darkness, she checked her surroundings before tiptoeing into the room. The light remained off as she expected you to be asleep.

“Hey,” you greeted the dark-haired beauty, making her jump in surprise at the sudden noise.

“Fu—God! You scared me.” With one hand over her heart, your roomie calmed herself from your unexpected jump-scare. Once her heart rate had settled, she slipped out of her heels and left them by the end of her bed. “Is he asleep?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, letting your finger run along his jaw to check. He didn’t move, so you knew he was most likely out for the night. “Long night?”

She gagged with an eye roll, pulling her jeans off her legs and exchanging them for grey sweatpants. “Don’t get me started. I haven’t even started writing my thesis, and it’s already kicking my ass.”

You watched her as she also changed out of her dress shirt and into an off-the-shoulder crop top. She slipped into a pair of sneakers while making her way to her dresser where she sprayed herself in a cloud of perfume.

“You’re leaving again?”

“Yup. I spent so much time at the library today, I apparently neglected,” she air-quoted with an eye roll, “my girlfriend. At least that’s what she said.”

“The things we do to keep our loved ones happy.”

“Exactly.” Unleashing her long curls from a tight ponytail, she ran her fingers through them for a few seconds. Her beach-waves veiled her face, so she pushed them behind her ears to instead frame her near-perfect features. “Anyway, I’m staying at hers tonight, so don’t wait up for me.”

“Okay,” you agreed with a yawn, your roommate replying with a deep chuckle.

The past few days, you had mainly spent in your new room, settling in and getting ready for the start of the semester. You liked planning ahead, knowing your life was organised to a T, so you could focus on the important stuff. Your studies, and your boyfriend.

Your roommate seemed to have most of the same priorities. She had gone out every night since you moved in, be it to study at the library or spend some time with her better half. However she managed to squeeze in all the partying? You had no clue. You could only hope some of her togetherness rubbed off on you. But then again, never judge a book.

“I’m going to take you out one of these days. You are not going to be sitting inside all year. Not on my watch.”

Spending the first two days inside, you must have looked like the biggest couch potato ever.

“Sounds good.”

As she waltzed towards the door, you grabbed her attention one last time. The hallway lights blinded you with their brightness, framing her curves in a halo.

“Oh, and Hwasa?” She turned to face you, looking like she had jumped straight off a Vogue cover. How she did that without trying was a mystery to you. “Can you not tell Wheein he’s sleeping over? I wouldn’t want my first warning on the third day already.”

“Babe, as long as you’re my roommate, my dorm-supervisor-girlfriend won’t dare write you up. Just don’t set anything on fire, and you’re solid.”

With that, she waved goodbye, leaving you and your boyfriend alone. Well, apart from the ever-so-handsome Tom Holland, who somehow made full-body suits look like a reasonable choice of clothing.

Not soon after, your eyes fell close, sending you off into a deep rest.

Next Chapter >>>

Masterlist Leave feedback!

#strawberries & pineapples #kpop smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #skz x reader #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #kpop fanfic #skz scenarios #skz fanfic #han jisung smut #han jisung x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids angst #skz hard thoughts #stray kids hard hours #skz hard hours #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids fanfiction #han smut

[50setsofplayif]

You are introduced as a manager for the college basketball team, but it seems like you've transferred on a messy year.

The team's reputation is at risk after one of its new star players, is accused of cheating in an exam. Your best friend, a sister of one of the players, pleads for your help in finding the real culprit before the team is banned from playing All Star School Tournaments.

You begin to investigate and get to know the different members of the team, including the serious scholar, the charasmatic captain, the laid-back joker, and the brooding outsider. As the investigation progresses, tensions rise among the team members and secrets are revealed as you learn about how deep the rabbit hole goes.

Will you be able to clear the team's reputation before it's too late?

No Demo - Spotify - Visuals - Pinterest

Features

A customisable MC – hair, clothing style- in general, physical features.

Build and repair relationships with a cast of characters from two different schools.

Choose between five RO's to romance or befriend.

Build up your stats! You'll need them.

This game is 18+ due to the basics (swearing, drug abuse and so on) a better description will follow with chapter 1!

ROs

( The charismatic captain: Riley ) : This basketball player is the charismatic leader of the team, with a charming personality and a magnetic presence. He's confident and outgoing, but also has a vulnerable side that he doesn't show to everyone. Lately, he's been feeling the pressure of being a role model to his teammates, and struggling with the realization that he might not be able to achieve his dream of becoming a famous basketball player if his team's reputation is ruined as he's torn between wanting to pursue his dream of becoming a famous basketball player and not wanting to abandon his teammates in the dirt of these accusation towards the new teamate, who are like family to him. How will you help him navigate these difficult decisions? ♥︎

( The serious scholar: Orion ) : This basketball player takes his academics very seriously, and is under a lot of pressure to maintain his high grades from his parents, as he's been threatened to be pulled out if his grades drop, while also performing well on the court. He's struggling with being a perfectionist, and it's affecting his sleep schedule and overall health. He's also worried about the accusations of cheating, as he knows how damaging they could be to his team's reputation. Can you help the serious scholar balance his academic and athletic responsibilities, and clear his team's name? ♥︎

( The laid-back joker: Isaac ) : This basketball player is always cracking jokes and making his teammates laugh, but he's secretly struggling with anxiety and introversion. He feels like he has to put on a happy-go-lucky persona to fit in with his outgoing teammates, but he's really struggling to keep up as he's secretly an introvert with anxiety. Can you help the laid-back joker find his true voice and overcome his anxiety, and find the confidence to be himself? ♥︎

( The brooding outsider: Vincent ) : This basketball player is the team's grumpy player, with a quiet and brooding personality. He doesn't reveal much about his past, but there's a hint of something darker lurking beneath the surface. Some people on campus whisper about rumors of him being involved in bullying in the past, but he's never spoken about it. Despite his prickly exterior, he's fiercely loyal to his teammates and has a strong moral code. How will you help him open up and confront his past, while also supporting him as a valued member of the team? ♥︎

( The enigmatic transfer: Eli ) : This basketball player is the team's enigmatic transfer, with a mysterious and elusive personality. He's new to the team and the college, and doesn't reveal much about himself or his past. After his first exam, he was accused of cheating and it's tarnished his reputation on campus. He's been keeping a stoic persona to avoid any further scrutiny, but he's struggling with the weight of the accusations against him. How will you help him clear his name and find the truth behind the accusations, while also getting to know him better and unraveling the mystery of his past? ♥︎

#interactive fiction #If #Wip #Fifty sets of play IF #FSOP

[heyyallitsbeth]

so i let the hyperfixation win.

over the past several hours i rewatched Sword Art Online and SAO 2.

(this time dubbed, last time i watched it subbed)

here are my thoughts:

-anyone who said the dub was bad is just wrong. Kirito's VA really shines in the more comedic or sweet moments (like when first meeting Yui), he reminds me of like a Peter Parker. and oh my lord, the breakdown by Suguha's VA was just a masterpiece. Still have chills from watching it.

-i have such a big appreciation for every character. This time it really shined through how good of characters Kirito, Asuna, and Suguha actually are.

Kirito's internal conflict throughout SAO2 is so good, grappling with their actions they needed to take in SAO to survive. and throughout all of it you can tell how much they truly loves their friends and family, and how kind hearted they really are. Asuna definitely fits into that role as well, being so ready to take care of Yui and so desperately wanting her to be safe and loved and cared for.

And oh my gosh Suguha. I remember people absolutely hated her arc because it is problematic, but the fact is, it's played entirely serious, her feelings arent taken as a joke. She has a genuine and real internal struggle for feeling things she feels she shouldnt, and how she feels those feelings arent reciprocated or cant be reciprocated, and having her heart broken twice by someone who she loves and someone who also does still genuinely love her. Its absolutely heartbreaking to watch.

Man, Sinon is still fantastic. She's still my absolute favorite, and I think she is one of the best characters in the show, and pretty much steals the show from her introduction. Her arc ties in so seamlessly with Kirito's and how they help eachother heal and grow is fantastic. Only complaint is we never got a scene of the rest of the Gals being jealous about the grenade hug she gave Kirito. After Kirito and Sinon nearly died, wouldve been some nice relief so you didnt feel like you yourself were dying.

-Speaking of, while there was definitely a ton of fanservice, the pseudo-harem aspect with the jokes were kinda cute, between characters seeing flirting happen around them, getting embarassed over it, its fun. Especially when people got jealous of Sinon flirting with Kirito over Excalibur. That part was very fun, since they did that infront of everyone else, almost like they were trying to get a rise out of them. Theyre not exactly the pinnacle of comedy, its definitely a trope, but theres something nostalgic about it that makes it kinda enjoyable.

-Speaking of the psuedo-harem, guys if all of you are constantly flirting with eachother (not just Kirito surprisingly, happens between the other girls frequently) and jealous of any affection with that, just start a polycule. You're a group of gamer girls playing MMOs together and all of you have slept in the same bed with eachother. Stop snipping at eachother and start dating eachother. Polyamory is pretty cool. Kirito and Asuna can still be the main duo and be the parents to Yui and Strea; but yall gotta work on the jealousy or just do what every other group of girl gamers does, polyamory. Lisbeth you should not be angrily drinking while watching Kirito and Asuna talk. (this is mostly a joke, im not actually saying they *have* to do a polycule, its more of a joke because of how tropey a lot of the flirting and jealousy is, and yknow, gay girls do polyamory, so dont take this part toooooo seriously.)

-Speaking of girls dating girls, the LGBT rep aint half bad. Argo canonically using both male and female pronouns is really cool! Most of the girls flirt with eachother a lot too, which is nice. Between the female avatar, the willingness to pretend to be a girl, the introversion, the desire to be an avatar in a virtual world more than irl, Kirito might be transgender. All good stuff here.

Overall, SAO is honestly way better than I remembered, even if some parts definitely show its age. You gotta piece it together a little bit with headcanons, but i do that with every show, nothing is perfect. Except Sinon. And a world where trans Kirito is canon. Those are perfect.

#sao #sword art online

[ye-local-simp]

Hi, there 🌼

I saw that the Match up event is open for Twst guys so I want to try:

About me:

MBTI: ENFP (but I'm an ambivert, I don't mind taking the role of introversion or extroversion depending on the situation. Context is important

Personality: I am calm but cheerful and sweet. I like to help and take care of those close to me and I always want to better understand people's hearts and how they understand or see the world from their perspective. I can be a little sleepyhead and little procrastinator but without neglecting my important duties. Sometimes I can be somewhat clueless or clumsy in things but I always try to do my best. People often say that I'm "a smart fool" sometimes I don't understand or grasp "obvious" or simple things, it's hard for me to grasp or learn something the first time. Can I be a little clueless? But I don't like being treated like a fool

But I understand well my feelings and the feelings of the people around me. I do not like injustices or those who take advantage of others and I am willing to protect someone, Being a helping hand, even if i are not the strongest or bravest person. I like sweet food, I like to draw and the arts, I want to have a calm, simple and happy life. I like me I would like to live from gratitude for the simple fact of being grateful to this world and its people, either by being someone who can make this world a little happier with my ideas and support.

I hope I haven't gone too far with my description. Take your time and no pressure, thank you 🌷💐🌠

I match you up with....

Malleus!

-Malleus likes how creative and arty you are, it makes him more comfortable to talk about gargoyle with you.

-If you draw him a gargoyle, you best believe that he is hanging that on his bedroom wall now.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland matchup event #twisted wonderland matchup #twisted wonderland matchups #twst matchup event #twst matchups #twst matchup

[radmerrmaid]

I. the world is a curse, it'll kill if you let it

Summary: Edward Nashton, your weird, solitary, coworker, has been in your mind a lot lately, an obsession that is clearly reciprocated. What happens when your paths inevitably cross?

word count: 7700k (not beta'd, sorry)

warnings for this chapter: soft!dark!edward (talks of depression, anxiety and self-hatred. alcohol and drug abuse. implied bullying, stalking, mysogyny and incel shit in general (hello, it's the Riddler). masturbation, hallucinations and voyeurism. do not interact if you're under 18.

Edward Nashton gets under your skin without you even noticing it. 

It’s the way he stares, at first. That is what catches your attention. The forcefulness of his eyes, so unashamed, makes you look away, embarrassed. You sometimes wonder if he does it on purpose to make you uncomfortable, a hint of annoyance at his lack of restraint. But he is excessively shy, quiet, a bit disturbing, yes, but mostly, just Edward Nashton from accounting. Harmless, despite what other people around the office like to suggest. 

Then, it’s those small glimpses of gentleness, of an adorable, almost child-like nature seen as awkward and creepy by your coworkers, but endearing to you. It’s the rose-tinted flush in his cheeks when you catch him staring. The timid nod he gives when he bumps into you in the break room; the way his shoulders tense, fingers gripping his mug tightly when he sees you’re both alone, but lingers idly as long as you’re staying, stirring his coffee slowly to give his agitated hands something to do. Trails a few feet behind you and your colleague Betty on the way to the bus stop, always caught off-guard when you look back at him. No one talks or interacts with Edward, except for your shared glances, and awkward gestures acknowledging each other's presence. 

You find it cute, at the very least.  You doubt that someone would ever have the sensibility to notice it in him, to see past the quietness and introversion. In this city, danger and darkness are found in every corner, sometimes it feels like it’s in the air, dreary and heavy like an invisible fog that enters slowly through your nostrils. It poisons everyone in its bitterness, and everything becomes perverted, eerie. It’s impossible, even naive, to expect something good from people, and even easier to assume the worst if they don’t perform certain social cues to an acceptable level. 

But Edward is different. Doesn’t make an effort to be liked, and just keeps to himself. You’ve heard people say he is the best accountant in the financial department, which you suspect is the only reason why he hasn’t been fired or heavily bullied — yet. That’s how he glues himself into your thoughts; part of you feels sorry for him, and another one feels irritated at his behavior (why can’t he just be normal?). But there’s also another part of you, kept under a thick blanket of normalcy, that just wonders what it would be like to play with him. You find yourself replaying the tiniest exchanges between the two of you, and catch yourself being utterly charmed by his awkwardness. Feel your chest swell at the unfamiliar, yet deeply appreciated, massage to your ego when you notice how affected he is by even the tiniest bit of attention he gets from you. You know it’s becoming an obsession, but you’re addicted to that small euphoric heat that burst quickly inside your gut when you see how easy it is to make him blush. 

“God, that dude gives me the creeps. Pretty sure he’s been following us.” Betty says constantly. You know for a fact that pretty much everyone else shares the sentiment. 

“No, he’s harmless. He’s a nice guy”, you defend him, always careful not to show too much emotion.

“Just because he fixed your computer? I would have it checked for hidden cameras or some shit he might have done to it if I were you.”

Edward makes a move unexpectedly; you’ve been complaining about the IT crew for a few days now. They are charming guys, except for the fact that you’d started to notice they only give a shit about helping out the women they want to fuck. Edward overhears you once and suddenly appears in front of you, offering to help. You give your laptop to him, surprised at his generous offer, unsettled by his sudden confidence, even when he stammers, blushes cherry-red, and doesn’t maintain more than three seconds of direct eye contact. He disappears with your computer to his cubicle, and returns it twenty minutes later, dropping it in front of you and disappearing as quickly as he came. Inside your now-fixed laptop, there’s a small piece of paper with neat handwriting. His phone number. 

Should be working fine. Call me if it doesn't.

Edward.

You squeeze the scrap of paper tight in your hand and shove it down a desk drawer before anyone can see, appalled by his boldness. Of course, the office creep is the one who’s going to get the hots for you, you think to yourself.

“Oh God”, Betty says, sarcasm and disgust in her tone, right after Edward scurry away to hide in his cubicle again: “do you think he’s got a crush on you?”

You don’t answer. She senses your embarrassment and leaves you alone. But you spend the rest of the day with guilt heaving in your mind, thinking maybe you’re taking this too far, and even more disgusted when you realize you’re warming up with excitement.

You’ve never been attracted to the quieter ones; no, you crave the extroverts, the charismatic type that fills up the room. Of course, those are the same guys that don’t even pay attention to you, or even worse, the ones that only see you as a playtime. The ones that don’t spend the night, the ones that never text back. I’m having fun, you’re a nice girl, but I’m not ready for a relationship right now. Not with you, at least. Sorry, sweetheart. 

An old therapist said once it’s because you want to be like them, want to be liked, want to be popular. It would be funny if it wasn’t so fucking depressing. You are constantly, ridiculously, trying to be around those you envy, thinking maybe you’ll be more accepted, would feel better about yourself. It doesn’t work, of course. You’re always chasing after your own tail, too distracted by your own mediocrity to maintain a healthy relationship — with yourself or with someone else. 

Sometimes, it all becomes too much. You’re broke and depressed, spend most of your free time watching TV, and partying too hard when the loneliness and boredom get too difficult to bear. 

But there’s Edward now, and suddenly, he’s occupying your mind most of the time. Eddie. You know he’s just like you. Except, of course, he’s not a liar like you are. He’s unapologetic himself, intense, different from any other man you’ve met before. He ignores the teasing of the assholes from the office and occupies himself with work, books, and crossword puzzles. Stares intently at everything that catches his attention, from the pretty new girl from reception to the news coverage of a political debate. You envy him. Sometimes you’re resentful, angry at him for being like that. And then you’re remembering his blushed cheeks, the shy, almost imperceptible smile he gives you, and only you.

That’s when you catch yourself staring back, wishing things would be different. Wishing you weren’t so fucked up, prettier, more interesting, more desirable. Then maybe everyone else would start to treat you better, to see you. Perhaps then you could reject him and make him suffer. Maybe you could ask him out, and then he would beam, thrilled at your invitation, and then you would let him wait until the restaurant closes, and then he would walk himself home, alone, telling himself that he probably deserved that for even thinking you would give him a chance.

That train of thought is the one that usually leaves you feeling like shit. Obscure, perverted thoughts are constantly flooding your mind, and somehow, your obsession with Edward seems to make them even worse, harder to concentrate away from them, to focus on being a good, nice person so people won’t notice you’re a crumbling foundation collapsing in itself. It’s the same train of conscience that leads to a bender, makes you put on a revealing dress and go out, spend the entire night dancing and drinking and using until you can forget how fucked up and disgusting you are. You crawl back to your apartment, in your clothes that now feel too tight, your feet hurting. It’s always after the partying that your apartment feels strange, foreign, faintly smelling like someone else. You pass out on the bed, feeling guilty and ugly, loneliness heaving in your chest.

The next day, you’re feeling torn apart at the edges, like someone chewed you out and spit you on the sidewalk. And Edward will be there, in the break room, stealing furtive glances until he can’t help but stare. Judgmental, curious, and filled with nervousness. That’s when you get angry.

You snap at him after a particularly rough night. You’ve been drinking the night before, threw up in the street, and took a ride with some stranger that miraculously didn’t try to mug you or rape you. Edward’s intensive staring pisses you off, makes you feel watched, and turns you hyperaware of how intrusive his presence is, and how it’s taking so much of your headspace. You surprise him with a biting remark, not loud, but challenging; doing something that probably no one in the office ever did.

“No one ever taught you that it’s rude to stare, Edward?”

It feels wrong even as the words come out of your mouth. Not because of their slight aggressiveness, but because it feels like they broke something, like the thin barrier that separates the two of you is now gone, like you’ve given him something you can never have back.

***

You are a distraction, Edward knows that. 

Just one of the pretty girls in the office, not even the prettier one, if he has to be honest. They’re all the same; most of them look right through him like he’s part of the furniture. The other ones are even worse; looking at him like he’s some wounded animal that deserves to be put down, wary as if he’s going to harm them, even if the only thing Edward sees in them is a bunch of stupid, boring, uninteresting girls who would never understand him.  

Then, you get transferred to his floor, and everything changes, because you’re different.

He identifies the façade right away. Maybe it’s because Edward can relate a bit, or maybe everyone else is just too self-absorbed to realize how painfully lonely and desperate for affection and attention you are. It’s almost written on your forehead, the way you go the extra mile to help, to please, especially for those guys around the office that doesn’t give a shit about you. It annoys him a bit and makes him especially angry and resentful of you. But he supposes you can’t be blamed because that’s how most women are, anyway. Trying really hard to please men that will end up treating them like shit. Girls never gave as much as a glance in his direction, disturbed and intimidated by his shyness, by his intelligence, and even by his gentleness and naivety, but he didn’t care anymore. All of those things didn’t matter, not now that he has found his true purpose, his mission.

Entertaining a certain hope of getting your attention is inevitable, after all, even after the arrival of the Riddler, Edward still isn't immune to his weaknesses and desires. But even then, he doubts you would ever treat him differently than the others, even if you’re nicer than they are. Just like everyone else, you must be attracted to the lie. The traditional molds of what a man should be; physical strength, conventional beauty, boldness, experience, and a healthy dose of misogyny, of course. A guy who will see you as a saint, not a whore, and give your life meaning. Give your children, a comfortable home, regular vacations, and a life of blissful ignorance and alienation. Isn’t that what every woman wants?

Edward believed that, too, once. When he was going through hell in that orphanage, or even after that, during college, he’d figured things would get better. But he knows the truth now, finally, the Riddler has helped him see that the sun only shines for a very small group of people in this city, and he would never be one of them. Too bad you couldn’t see it too. But he could show it to you if you’d let him. 

He always thought most people were boring, small little humans who tried to compensate for their lack of depth by being mean to him, to those who were too fragile to stand up for themselves. That’s not who he is, never has been. Edward is the broken victim of the shit that simmers under all of those lies. He will never be like them, will never fit in. It's why he became someone else, something else. That part of him — the Riddler, that is — resents you for it, but Edward is curious, and even the killer inside his head needs to admit that no one has ever made them curious before. Not like this.

But he is skilled and mature, and he's been preparing his whole life for this. He can keep them apart; the Riddler, the part of himself that has reached full potential, brimming at the edges with barely contained power, that craves blood and vengeance. But he is Edward, still, and Edward is weak, perverted by his longing, pain, and grief. But as long as he can control them both; everything will be okay. Together, they can solve the puzzles presented by their cruel lives, and even see the opportunity in them. He can indulge, as long as he never forgets about his true mission. 

So he allows himself to lust in small doses. To grieve your wasted potential, to imagine what it would be like when Gotham is finally cleaned, and when you — when everyone else — finally see the truth he’s going to uncover. He starts to pick you apart, staring greedily, revealing in all the cracks in the carefully rehearsed acts that show him you’re something else entirely. 

Even if you’re always throwing pleasantries around the workspace, being kind, and trying to get everyone to like you, Edward lives for the moments in which he can see the impending traces of corruption in your soul, anger, sadness, and loneliness threatening to explode. It reminds him of a crumbling building, in its final seconds before falling apart like it’s made entirely of sand. The recognition burns in his brain and sparks his curiosity as a good puzzle would.  Reminds him of himself. He has never related to anyone before; except for Batman, but like himself, Batman had the mask. You didn’t have anything that could give you power like that. Still, you turn that little key in his mind that unlocks his full attention. And God, what a fucking enigma you are. 

Passionate, observant, gentle. Charismatic, a classic people pleaser, desperate for praise. But so much energy is being spent in hiding what you truly are; anger, resentment, jealousy, anxiety. A carefully built appearance. When Lisa from the design team makes an unnecessary announcement to communicate her quitting the job to dedicate herself to her big shot lawyer husband. Edward is the only one to notice the glint of envy in your eyes and watches it disappears entirely, as quickly as it came to, giving space to a perfectly-faked smile as you hug her before anyone else. I’m so happy for you. Edward sees it all, even when nobody else can. The pure, raw despair and hopelessness. He recognizes it from the mirror. 

It stirs something inside him. A desire of having more, and isn’t great that the Riddler allows him to just take it? 

It's almost impossible for him to stop himself from digging deeper. That same day, he snaps and stops resisting and starts to give in to his obsession with you. To find out everything he can. He sees the social media posts, and the graduation photos on Facebook, and it’s only you. Smiling, but never showing teeth. No partner, no family, no friends.

That night, he dresses up in leathery-deep green like he’s used to by now, mask falling on his face like a balm of relief, and watches all the filthiness of the city from his recently-rented place right by the Iceberg Lounge. Unabashed criminals, upstanding citizens indulging in their true natures, hidden in plain sight. He walks over every step of his mission, revises his meticulously planned steps, talks to his followers, and yells at the camera about every single disgusting thing he sees and feels until his throat is sore. When he turns off the stream, he’s so fucking hard it hurts, and all he thinks about is you you you. Imprinted in his mind like a painting, clear in every detail, so real he can almost feel it move inside his brain; sitting in the uncomfortable squeaky chair and watching TV absently, soft fingers cradling a steaming porcelain mug with cat ears, and the gentle, honeyed smile you give him when he arrives at work, melting all of his rage with warmness and sweetness, the barely-there hint of mischievousness in your curved lips almost feel like a hallucination, but it’s there, and he sees it. He’s the only one who can. He jerks off thinking about fucking you until you're crying, telling him I'm sorry, I'm sorry… I see it now-fuck, you were right. I'm sorry, please please please don't stop…

The next day, you're there as always, and it’s different. Even if Edward feels deeply embarrassed, even if the need to look away when you catch his eye is still overwhelming, the insistent itch that is the Riddler’s existence scratches at him, as a feral animal stuck inside a small cage in the corner of his brain. He spends the entire day agitated, anxious, stealing glances at your cubicle, the memory of him jerking off to the clear image of you is still fresh in his mind. He’s still dripping with the satisfaction, fingertips still buzzing with the chaotic energy, traces of the Riddler still clouding his judgment. It’s always difficult to shake himself back into normal after a particularly satisfying night of being in the mask. Riddler’s voice is relentless, and Edward needs to put a lot of energy into keeping the violence at bay.

Do it, the animal whispers to him, mockingly. We both know she wants it, and you should take it. 

Edward trails after you like it's a fucking instinct, like a dog sniffing out food, when you get up for a mid-morning coffee, and the monster inside him laughs when he overhears you complaining again about having a shitty laptop for days and being utterly ignored by the guys in IT. 

Poor thing, it says, again, derisively, tone dripping with malignant intent. You can help her. And help yourself. 

Dripping with the satisfaction from last night, fingertips still buzzing with the chaotic energy, traces of the Riddler still clouding his judgment; Edward doesn't even think before he's walking towards you, doesn't even register his mouth opening to offer to fix your computer for you while you stare at him in surprise.

He ends up with your laptop all to himself for about twenty minutes, and he makes it fucking count. Make sure he's got enough to penetrate every crevice of your life. He feels like a fucking idiot even as he’s scribbling his phone number on a piece of paper and shoving it inside the computer. Even if you’d never text him, or worst, even if you’re deeply disturbed by his advances and never look at him again, he’s got what he needs from you. 

Edward is deliciously tempted to pull a sickie just so he can haul ass home and enjoy all the new material, but he's smarter than this. He waits patiently for the clock to strike 5 pm, so he can get the train home, finger dangling the pen drive with all of your shit in his coat pocket, and he almost wants to pull it out and kiss it. It's only when he gets home, almost giggling with excitement, that he realizes that the thin membrane that separated Edward's obsession with you and Riddler's eagerness to take has been severely damaged.

He becomes bold after that. With access to your phone records and internet history, Edward can’t stop himself from falling into a pit of obsession, drinking every last sip of your chaotic, yet gentle and warm existence like a man starved. He finds out about the drinking, about the occasional cocaine, about the loneliness, the despair-fuelled nights out when you just want to forget about how miserable your life is. He gets it, feels the same, even, but he has the mask. The Riddler is his final stage of evolution, is the façade of Edward that is going to make everyone sees the truth about the people of Gotham and how they are living a lie that is hurting people in all the ways suffering can be inflicted upon. So he’s going to fight back. He understands that not everyone can do it, too.

He loses one more battle against his urges on a Friday night. The social media photos aren’t enough, the pixelated image of you does nothing to soothe his hunger, and the voice keeps telling him to do something, so he gets up, puts on his coat, and walks into your address almost in autopilot mode. The fact there’s a rooftop nearby where he can easily break in and see your apartment window feels like a gift from the Universe, an encouragement, even. See? It’s so easy, getting what you want, the voice tells him. It’s almost like you’re made for him, everything working out perfectly in favor of him being closer and closer to you. 

The expensive binoculars he gets to help him watch the Iceberg lounge from the Riddler's place serve him just right, and he waits and waits and waits, patiently, until the Gotham’s sky starts to darken, the warm weather giving in to a pleasant breeze that gets intense from this height. And then, you’re stepping into the window, and Edward’s grateful there’s not anyone around to hear how his breath catches, as soon as he recognizes you. From the rooftop, he watches as you quickly walk around your bedroom hurriedly; you’re finishing dressing up, and getting ready to go out, and he watches fascinated at how beautiful you are, even from this distance. Your hands expertly put on long, gold earrings. Little jumps as you put on your high-heeled shoes. Objectively, Edward shouldn’t even be excited about seeing you; he was never a fan of tight clothing, exaggerated accessories, and heavy makeup, but something about the way you’re dressed tonight makes him deeply, deeply affected. He hasn’t felt like this for a girl before, completely enticed, bewitched by every aspect of your being. His hands are trembling around the binoculars. Something about the exposed skin of your thighs, the darker shade of blue, slightly metallic, hugging your curves in a way that is just so… Fuck, he would give everything to get closer to you, smell you, to feel…

After you leave, it’s easy to get in. In less than ten minutes, Edward’s able to climb your fire escape and enter your balcony. There’s a small glass table with a chair, some plants that are being overwatered, and a trash can filled with beer bottles. He’s almost giddy, arousal and excitement too overwhelming, sharpening his senses, and the sinister nature of his actions is quickly discarded. You would never know he was there; this is for him only, his secret indulgence. If this is the only way he can get closer to you, the only way he can consume your presence and existence, he is not going to refuse himself.

Edward can’t stop himself from giggling when the balcony’s door opens on the first try, unlocked. Well, should have locked the door to keep any creeps from getting in.

The scent is what hits him first, like a swift punch in the face. It’s when he realizes that he has never been in a girl’s bedroom before, and it gets his cock hard almost immediately. The air is honeyed, the mixture of scented lotions, perfumes, and other products is light, but so unfamiliar that he needs a few moments to accustom his senses to it. Vanilla, coconut, strawberries, lavender. He breathes deeply, eagerly trying to glue all the traces of you into his nostrils. The perfume on the nightstand, your choice for the evening, is warm and spicy. Your closet door is open, spilling a mess of colorful fabric as you’d probably ransack it looking for tonight’s outfit. Your vanity is weirdly empty, and he takes note that you’d probably don’t bother wearing too much makeup to going out, just like in the workplace. 

When he sits on the bed, there’s already noticeable tent in his pants, and his dick twitches painfully at the soft give of fabric under his thighs. A pang of shame courses through his veins, hot and sizzling. This is probably the closest he will get, so he takes his time. Edward’s long fingers are trembling, and he sinks them in the comforter. The apartment is small, the bedroom even smaller, messy as fuck, but the sheets are expensive. In the bed, your smell almost chokes him in its intensity. He rubs his hand on the sheets, sweaty palms rubbing against cotton. It feels forbidden, like he’s touching softness that he wasn’t supposed to. He faintly remembers your amused voice telling Betty hell yeah, I spend a lot of money on bedsheets, I love being comfy. 

Disgust and embarrassment make him close his eyes as soon as he pictures you in his mind. This is your space, your most intimate place, and he’s here, tainting it with his indecent appetites just because he’s too pathetic to ever be here under normal pretenses. Edward rests his head on one pillow, and the scent of your coconut shampoo shoves a needy whine from his throat. He’s rubbing his cock already, palm squeezing over the uncomfortable stretch of his pants, and when he opens his eyes, he sees you clearly; a vision, the materialization of his vivid imagination and lack of control. Your hair is a little bit wild like every other Monday — when the weekend has been rough, and you didn’t get the energy to comb it and style it too neatly. It’s his favorite day of the week: usually, you’re too tired and hangover and the mask you wear to fool anyone else is barely holding on. He strokes his cock through the damp fabric of his pants, thinking about the way your eyes narrow and your lips twitch in annoyance. He plays the casual, angry-fuelled commentary he overhears once from you like a mantra; this city is disgusting, Betty. People like us are always getting fucked and no one gives a shit. 

Your image is blurring at the edges, and Edward tries to distract himself from his own desperation to focus on you again. Your dress from tonight is dark green now, leathery and slick, and it shines so bright he can barely look, and it reminds him instantly of his mask, wishes he could have it on, so he could at least have a little bit of control under your relentless gaze. Without it, he’s just Eddie, and you hover over him on the bed, a gentle, patient smile pushing the corners of your lips up, brows slanting as your head tilts to the side, but your eyes travel over his pathetic figure with a pure, ominous appetite, that kind of look that he has come to love it so much, the evil glint that betrays your true, resentful, angry and frustrated self, the one that everyone else is too dumb to see.

Not him. He sees it. And he wants to see more. Wants it for you to look at him with it, to indulge in your true nature just like he does. 

Right now, the satisfaction of his own hands on his cock brings enough euphoria for him to lose himself completely, to blur the lines between his senses and reality. Everything smells like you, so he can pretend you’re standing right above him, smiling perversely, watching him stroke his cock greedily. Your voice is engraved on his brain, so he can picture it whispering that’s it, baby, you’re doing so good… He never thought he needed the praise so much, that just the thought of you using a pet name on him would make him want to blow his load so easily, but it does. He’s whining, sweating, biting his lips enough to feel the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth, and then he’s coming, thick spurts of cum on his knuckles and he can hear your laugh. 

Shame comes immediately, so quickly that it surprises him, unexpected in his intensity. Edward gets up in a jump, a stream of whispered shitshitshitfuckfuckshit as he hurriedly goes to the bathroom to wash up. He surprisingly manages to get clean without disrupting anything in your particularly messy bathroom, and thankfully doesn’t get any of it on the sheets. His face is burning, his hands shaking, and tears start to prickle in the back of his eyes, humiliation burns in his stomach, the sweat cooling on his skin making him feel dirty and stupid. He’s alone in some poor’s girl bedroom, he broke in. You’re a fucking loser, a pervert. That voice comes back, sounding too much like what he remembers from your tone. The echoing sound of your imaginary laugh blends into a whisper of disappointment, and even though he’s almost crying from embarrassment, he’s nearly getting hard again. 

It gets even worse, even more humiliating, when he leaves your apartment in a hurry, and as soon as he hits the street, he starts to miss your smell and the softness of your sheets. This is as close as he can get, and he’s definitely, definitely crying now. Separation anxiety burns in his chest, and Edward is horrified (and aroused, so fucking horny it hurts) when the thought of coming back with the Riddler’s clothes and laying back in your expensive, silky sheets occurs to him. 

This is wrong, he thinks to himself, feeling his throat constrict as he walks back home. 

No, it’s not. You are the Riddler, you can do whatever the fuck you want.

Not this. Not breaking into some girl’s apartment just because he has the hots for her.

It’s more than that, and you know it. Stop fighting it.

***

Edward’s feelings toward you become harder and harder to understand. The dynamics of his relationships are all very clear in his mind, like his own image in the mirror, even if those people don’t even know he exists. Bruce Wayne is everything he should have been, the prince of Gotham who revealed in Gotham City’s sympathy and became a heartthrob while he suffered at the hands of their cruelty and poverty, becoming a creep with a dead-end job. Batman is the one who gets his need for vengeance, of cleaning the streets of their filthiness, even if his method is unsophisticated and simple, his reach is limited, clouded by righteousness and another lie that is good versus evil. He gets all of that. But he doesn’t understand you.

His urges, desires, and fantasies all come together to form a complex puzzle, a cipher that has its own intrinsic workings, and, the worst part of it all, he can’t control it. At first, he categorizes it as Edward’s thing, his desire to be loved and accepted and cared for all but an annoying inconvenience to his full rise as the Riddler, but he quickly realizes that it’s getting almost impossible to separate the both of them, especially because you’re as appealing to the masked figure as you are to the boy underneath it. Especially when he starts to notice the similarities between the two of you. 

It’s the drinking, at first. The beer bottles on your balcony, the tinkling of the spoon hitting the mug when your hands are trembling too much in the morning, the hurried trips to the bathroom as the sickness of hungover strikes too hard, the pungent and acrid smell clouded by perfume after. And it’s also the faltering grasp on your gentle and charismatic persona; he starts to notice that it becomes harder and harder for you to pretend. Someone mentions the mayor, the election, or something, and it starts a tension in the break room. You’re sipping from your mug, staring with disdain at the TV while Don Mitchel Jr. babbles on about his imaginary reality, where Gotham City thrives against criminals, not perishes because of them. 

“I fucking hate that guy, but we all know that the lies won’t stop with an election, no matter who wins”

It makes everyone else uncomfortable, not because of the statement,  which makes Edward smiles, and even let out a hum of approval. But because no one expects such apathy from you, even the foul language sounds foreign coming out of your lips. But Edward knows you better, can sense the faltering appearances,  and part of him is happy at that, even feel responsible for it. Deep down, maybe you know that it’s all pointless, that real change is violent and catastrophic and Gotham needs to die before it’s reborn. Maybe it’ll become easier for you to understand him. Why he’s going to do what he’s about to do. 

The lies won’t stop, no matter who wins.

But he would stop them. Him.

That week, he pays you another visit, dressed as the Riddler. 

***

Edward doesn't break like you expect him to.

He does get red, his eyes widened a little, but he smiles, a cute little quirk on the corner of his lips. Caught, nervous, but not afraid. It unsettles you, even more than you already were. Especially when you feel a certain tint of satisfaction when he reacts so prettily to your meanness. Okay, maybe you were trying to get a rise from him by making him uncomfortable. People in the office were mean to him every day, but you like him, so it’s not wrong, right?

"I'm sorry", he says, and his voice sounds hoarse from disuse, barely audible if it wasn’t just the two of you and the morning news in the break room. He clears his throat, and tries again: "didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

It's still too early in the morning, Mondays are usually slow, but Edward is already there. It's not often that it's only the two of you together, but when it happens, it's usually when he keeps the staring to a minimum. You usually don’t mind the company, even if you don’t speak to him. His quiet presence doesn’t take too much effort to interact with, and it’s even… nice. Not today, though. Because he openly stares, analyzing, calculating, and curious. It’s heated, too, like he’s painfully interested in your every move, and in your confusion and eagerness to act accordingly, you don’t know if you should be annoyed, tell him off for being a creep (because, as much as you don’t like it when everyone else says it, he fucking is), or take the opportunity to get to know him better.

You kind of want to do all of those things. 

The heat of his gaze is impossible to ignore, burning your side all the way from the coffee machine, while you hold your mug and keep your eye glued to the TV. There's another reporting over the upcoming elections in a couple of months, and you're fucking tired and annoyed. The bottle of cheap wine you chugged the night before wasn't enough to make you sleep better, but it was enough to give you a hangover. Plus, you spend the last of your paycheck on it, and now you'd have to wait until Thursday to get groceries. Luckily, you still had some canned tomatoes and pasta in the pantry.

Living in this city gets a little harder every day, and pretending you’re a happy, young person thriving in the face of difficulties is becoming even harder. The fact that Election Year fills people with hope is even worse. You think hope is the worst fucking thing ever because when shit doesn’t get better, people start turning on themselves to find someone to blame. Meanwhile, the criminals and the elite are getting richer, and you’re here, anxiously waiting for your next paycheck to get fucking groceries. 

Edward keeps staring, senses your irritation seeping from your pores, in the way you were clutching your mug a little tight. It's worse today, he can tell, because you keep chewing on your lip absently. 

God, you looked hot. A fucking mess waiting to happen. Edward is suddenly reminded of those headlines about women who simply snap one day and kill their entire families, a bloodbath that leaves people fucking terrified, because how could someone who’s perfectly normal do something like that? As if they’re not creating a perfect environment for death. It didn’t occur to him before, but it must be hard, being a woman. The constant need to please and be accepted, simmering side by side with so much anger and frustration at being treated like fucking garbage. He gets it. He really does.

"It's okay, I probably look like shit, right?" it's back. The self-deprecating and humble little smile, eagerly trying to pass off as charm. He almost feels angry at that, wants to grab you by your shoulders and shake you until he makes you see that it's not it. People like you and him shouldn’t need to diminish themselves to appear more likable to people. "Mondays aren't really my day."

Maybe it’ll get better by the end of the year, you think to yourself. Maybe then people would return to their usual alienating headspaces, worrying about shit that doesn’t matter, and you’d do the same. Perhaps when the shit show is over, you can’t at least stop seeing that asshole mayor’s face every morning on the news. You sigh heavily and dump the rest of your coffee in the sink.

“You don’t”, he quickly responds, and when you look confused in his direction, he blushes hard, blinks confusedly, and adds: “look like shit, I mean. You don’t look like shit. You look great.” 

Fuck, he is cute. In a very disturbing way — like someone abandoned an injured puppy, threw them carelessly in your lap, and told you coldly to end its misery. Edward usually keeps his distance, but today he seemed closer, and that makes you feel funny. Maybe irritated at his proximity, but curious. Isn't he supposed to be this scary little boy, shy of everything and painfully awkward? Maybe you've been too bitter to notice he’s nice to talk to and appears to be interested in you, unlike most people in your workplace.

"Thank you, Edward", you smile at him sincerely, because yeah, maybe you're shallow, but it does lighten up your mood a bit. And maybe you're also naive and stupid, but Edward doesn't strike you as the type who would compliment someone just because. "I needed to hear that."

He blushes. His cheeks get this pink hue, right under green eyes that seemed too fascinated to look away, even if he's twisting his hands in his pockets, shoulders tense in nervousness. He nods in response, and you think this is it, but he adds: "Rough night?"

Your smile falters slightly, brows furrowing. You consider lying, but somehow, you simply can't, and then you're saying: "always a rough night in this city, right?"

You're surprised by your answer. You don't even remember the last time you've answered a question about yourself honestly in this office, not even for Betty. Mostly because you feel as if you start being honest about how you're feeling, then you won't be able to stop, and then you're going to be fucked. 

But it's so easy with him. He lets out a quick breath, smiles sympathetically, like fuck yeah, and nods at you, agreeing with your grim statement, and keeps staring, waiting for you to elaborate. Looks genuinely interested, leaning against the counter by the coffee machine, a plain black mug in one hand while the other moves slightly inside the pocket of his damp raincoat.  His gaze never leaves your face, his entire attention on you, every sense tuned to your answer to his casual inquiry, curious about the reason why you snapped at him, and ready to offer his ear, so you can vent about how you fucking hate everything and everyone.

Jesus, am I that desperate? I'm about to start crushing on the office weirdo.

And you are super normal and adjusted, right? As if.

"What about you, Edward? Did you do anything fun this weekend?" 

He thinks it is weird that, usually, this level of interaction with a woman would make him burst into tears by now, but not with you. He's fucking nervous, yeah, because he’d never been this obsessed with someone before, not like this. You're his dream, but Edward sees too much of him on you not to feel at ease. He understands you, sometimes even more than you understand yourself. Your voice echoes in his head, your honeyed, kind tone penetrating every nook and cranny of his brain.

For a wild millisecond, he thinks about telling the truth. Yeah. I waited for you to leave, so I could lay on your bed and jerk off smelling your dirty panties. I came so hard thinking about your pussy that I blacked out for a few seconds. Fuck, it's a miracle he's not getting a boner right now. The attraction and desire always hit him unexpectedly, and it leaves him dumb. Tell the truth. God, he's going fucking insane, you drive him insane, to the point where the smartest, sanest part of him is the sadistic terrorist. Tell the truth. Tell the truth. Fuck, what is he thinking?

"I fantasized about killing Don Mitchell Jr."

He freezes. Thinks what the fuck, starts shaking like a leaf, thinking, that's it.  Edward just outed himself as a killer before even doing anything. Also, just weirded out the only girl who's ever been genuinely nice to him in God knows how long.

But you laugh. Not a nervous laugh, but a genuine one, and you shake your head, saying oh man, I didn't see that one coming. And then turn to him, eyes sparkling so bright he thinks he's going to pass out. 

"Yeah, I think I might have lost some time on that fantasy too.", and then, fuck, then you think about it, turns your entire body in his direction, body language open while he stands there looking stiff as fuck and tries not to pop a boner in the break room while you both talk about murder. “We’re having the same fantasies, huh? How about that?” the smile you give him is dirty, and he seems deeply rattled by your advances. 

Huh. Interesting. 

“Feels like every single thing that comes out of his mouth is a lie. But then again, this entire city is built on lies."

Your tone is much more even when you continue, and he’s grateful for having something to divert his attention from your obvious flirtation. That was flirting, right? He can’t remember ever being in flirtatious interaction before. But he knows you. He swallows, throat suddenly dry as a desert, his tongue heavy as a brick inside his mouth. You lick your lips, corners of your mouth twisting in a smirk, and he feels a cold, sticky panic attached to his limbs. Lies. Lies. Lies. She knows. But you're gentle about it, your voice tinged with disappointment, and it moves him. Compels him into speaking without his brain even acknowledging he's opening his mouth. 

"Wouldn't it be great to see him exposed one day?", he asks, and he can feel himself smiling sadistically, small, but still. 

"Yeah, of course", you answer immediately, like it was so obvious. And Edward's pretty sure he's sporting a semi at this point. "And he's not even the only one-

"What are you guys talking about?"

Betty storms into the break room, presence loud, obnoxious, and throwing a bucket of cold water in Edward's head, and he feels like he can murder her on the spot. He can use the bland butter knife to gauge her eyes out just for interrupting the two of you. But the moment, it's ruined. Even before he can rearrange his thoughts in his brain, that cunt is already talking everyone's ears off about her fucking weekend as if someone gave a shit, and meanwhile, the kitchen is already feeling up with employees.

It all feels like a dream, and he's ready to return to his miserable routine when you poke him in the shoulder, smile, so sweetly he wants to burst into flames, and winks playfully. 

"Have a nice day, Eddie. Thank you for giving me the mental image of our mayor dead."

He beams at that, genuinely, because, well, he is many things, and immune to dry and morbid humor is not one of them. 

Oh, he would give you that image, in a way that you're definitely going to love him for it. 

You’ll see, Edward promises, watching as you leave the break room to go back to work. He’s no longer afraid, shy, or even there anymore. He’s The Riddler. You know what you have to do. See? She wants you to do it. Yeah, he’s going to do this for you. He’s going to focus on his mission and give you what you want. And then you’ll love him for it. 

Next Friday, the Riddler sees you in his hunting ground — entering the Iceberg Lounge, and all the illusions of ever controlling his urges and desires die.  

***

#danonation #dano!riddler x reader #edward nashton x reader #the riddler x reader #riddler smut #edward nashton smut #paul dano x reader

[1yyyyyy1]

don't know if you're taking a break on this blog, but your posts have helped me a lot and there is – ironically, i am sure some would say – something comforting in your writing and in the ways you express yourself. you have mentioned multiple times about your decision to remove from your life women who do not add anything to it. my question is: regarding relationships with women (platonic or not), how do you deal with loneliness?

i have always been a very introverted person, partially because i always knew there was something wrong with this world, even before i could name it. the more i grow, though, and the more i learn, my loneliness grows with me. it really does feel sometimes like we're the only ones in the fucking planet. the chances of us meeting one another are almost insignificant. i always knew men were empty but now i have to admit to myself that also every woman i know, see and talk to is a walking corpse. i am not interested in romance (i am a lesbian but too fucked up about sex itself and its implications), but part of me still wants friendship, in a way that my younger self did not.

is this also a thing you feel, from time to time? something you have encountered before?

As always, I am happy to know that my writing is helpful or even comforting in some way :) I know that these are some heavy topics I talk about on my blog and proving that they are not necessarily hopeless is what I care about. I am not on a break right now and I have actually been writing a lot lately, it's just that none of it is enough to wrap up even a single answer and I have been very frustrated by that. I'm still working on answering the messages in my inbox, even if it is something that was sent to me months ago, so please be patient with me.

Regarding loneliness, the truth would be that I'm a very solitary person and I tolerate loneliness or even isolation extremely well, to the point where I'm hesitant to give advice on how to deal with it to someone who is only slightly more sociable. I would be lying if I said that coming to certain realizations about women did not make me feel alienated at first because it did, and I used to be heavily bothered by the fact that the number of women who I had the potential to get along with was much smaller than I had anticipated, but ultimately I felt great relief after allowing myself to recognize that most women were harmful for me to be around and that I no longer had to pressure myself into socializing with them. The more pressing issue I was dealing with at the time was a "certain" ideology making me feel like I was stuck up or bigoted for wanting to distance myself from something that was clearly damaging to me, especially anything that involved obvious abuse and coercion. "Stuck up" for maintaining boundaries, figure that... Shutting down this line of thought alone was enough for me to start getting better and to move on to building connections that were actually productive for me.

I think that dealing with loneliness starts with discerning whether it is a temporary thing for you or a personal quality. You already mention being introverted, but I would take it even further and really allow myself to consider that it could be a genuine preference. Being confident in your introversion is a big deal because I know how unwell the world can make you feel for not being outgoing and how much people pathologize it! I myself used to wonder if my reclusiveness was some kind of trauma response that would go away once I met the right company and was more at peace with myself, which made me feel and act desperate when I look back at it. Nowadays I get a lot of positive interactions on here and I am on much better terms even with people in real life because I no longer get as frustrated by their worldview, but I still find myself in my own company more often than not because not being overtly social is where I am at my best.

With that said, I would not be where I'm at without my current friend circle and I genuinely attribute my mental stability to the friends I've made over the past year. I used to feel extremely unheard and alienated due to my fringe worldview and, having met like-minded people, this kind of isolation is just not something I struggle with anymore. To answer your actual question, I resolved my loneliness by making friends online and by recognizing that my social needs are met through less outgoing activities, like playing multiplayer games or curating an online blog; I was not going to figure this out without acknowledging that I am as reserved as I have always thought myself to be first, which is why I mention making peace with your introversion in the previous paragraph. Even if you end up being discontent with anything other than a long-term real-life friendship, talking to people online is still a good starting point that will give you a general idea for what it is like to be around someone with a similar outlook. I did feel infinitely better after connecting with like-minded women on social media (actually messaging them and interacting with their posts, not just reading or liking them) and it is one thing I recommend doing.

How weak or strong your sense of isolation is really depends on how far you are into coming to terms with the reality of this world's dynamics and there is a very high chance that you will be inconsolable at first, even with the right people in your life. I remember feeling down well into newfound friendships simply because such a major worldview shift was a lot to take in and I suggest not giving up on building connections with people even if it feels like nothing is working out for you. All in all, I choose to build friendships with like-minded women on the internet while maintaining more impersonal contact (professional or otherwise) in real life and I prefer to keep it that way.

#ask

[nightswithkookmin]

I'm not a jikooker because I prefer jimin with another member I ship him with..jimin is someone so affectionate and caring towards the people around him. With this jm is close to each member but somehow for some reason its always jikook who are spotted hanging out together off schedule. so many sightings from army spotting them in a restaurant and restaurants confirming this.the DVD memory 90% is jikook ofc the company favors them more that's why they film only their moments. because honestly as I ship jm with another pason I tend to always spot jikook together that it pisses me off so much.have had enaf of them together.no hate to jk but he should leave jm alone sometimes not hovering around him all the time duh!my question the latest run bts suga said "that's smth a couple would do" I mean why do they feel the need to highlight that all the time? Thats weird 😭if jikook are real and closeted isn't this exposing them?outing them just for a content lol it doesn't work that way.this is putting them at risk given they are in a homophobic country? or maybe the company wants to push this narrative of jikook as a couple?.also have mentioned about them spotted many times hanging out but we never see any other member hanging out off schedule just recently I saw jihope watching soccer. And its very rare.feel the company is pushing this fanservice even in their private lives.they want people to believe jikook are a thing.

Excuse me, you prefer Jimin with who??? 👀

If it's V or Suga or Namjoon I understand but anyone else and I'll snort😆

And I agree. Jimin is ship compatible with every one including himself. Yes. If he were a twin I'd ship him with his twin too and I'm not ashamed of that.

If you can't picture them making out I can and it's hot

Honestly I don't know if I should be flattered or mad or both or neither at this Ask so I'm just gonna be as respectful as I can be.

I haven't watched the run episode. I've only seen snippets but I will watch it this weekend. I have a ton of analysis to do and I hate commenting on stuff I haven't consumed.

This is not the first time Suga has said something of that nature. He's been alleged to have said "You weren't even a couple then" during Festa when Jikook shared the rain story.

Jin has made similar statements as have Namjoon and the others. When it comes to Jikook that is. He'll jikook have called themselves a couple too.

Since I don't speak their language and can't understand the nuances of it myself, I refrain from depending on any linguistic analysis for validation. I just take notice of it and carry on with my life.

Karmy can be a bit prudish and wow at everything because it's bold and daring and so out of the norm and gosh did you hear that? that's so gay, and sensationalise almost everything because they are so shocked easily by the prospect of two men "acting gay" when gay is so such taboo in their culture.

They are like me when I stare at a vagina that isn't my own.

I've said this over and over, but perhaps the company gravitate towards Jikook not only because what they have is authentic but because it's the best content they have💀

Best in terms of content production, engagement with fans, conversion of that engagement into monetary value, their chemistry is great, they self produce or come up with independently thought of and creative spontaneous moments that the best of hybe CCs couldn't conceive if they tried.

Which is strange because Vmin have awesome chemistry too and frankly I'm trynna see it. Jimin is a whole other mellow character around Taehyung sometimes. He steps back and let Tae take it away. Whereas around Jungkook most times, he gets so animated and hyper you'd think he swallowed a dynamite.

Not sure how much of his hyper activity is triggered by a subconscious awareness of Jungkook's proclivity towards introversion on screen. Whereas with V I feel he's more trusting of his co-workers ability to engage the audience on his own and come up with exciting and unique ideas for them to engage in without him necessarily worrying about censorship and worrying Tae's nerves will cause him to slip or make mistakes.

With Jungkook he gets lost trying to loosen him up and get him to relax on screen and not be soo aware of the cameras, or not read too much into anything he does while also trying to rile him up to get a reaction out of him because he's often fascinated by Jk's visceral response and reaction to him. He acts like there's no camera around, JK it's into it but soon forgets that millions of people are watching and so Jimin has to be on high alert around him. They give me headaches but I'm toxic so I love it. Bring it on Jikook.

Anywho, that was old Vmin. And old Jikook. These days Jungkook is the one that tries to loosen JM up.

And these days VMin can't play or keep it going for more than 5minutes without boring us to death with whatever weird vibes and inside jokes they have going on between them.

Case in point

Exhibit B

Don't get me wrong, they have impeccable chemistry and are also very good friends but let them be alone for an hour and you start blinking blankly at the screen- like you know there's something they not telling us and they matured and they all acting like grown ups with so much self respect and admiration for eachother.

Like when Tae confessed he liked Jimin alot I didn't expect Jimin's reaction at all, certainly not Suga cringing cos if those two are besties and face time eachother everyday I love you should be something they both should be used to hearing from eachother by now and their friends should be used to their shenanigans too by now.

Besides Taehyung confesses his love for Jimin more than he breathes oxygen in the air and this is Bangtan raised to the power Kpop- gay isn't exactly new to them if you know what I mean.

Yet no one said well that's so something a couple will do for that VMin moment. They cringed harder than a ma cracks his knuckles. Like friends would if another friend started acting homo around the bro table. There's a scene from Boys over flowers where Lee Minho goes to kiss another one of their friends- note to self, gurl, you have to rewatch those dramas you loved it. We loved it. Cool? Cool.

That moment with vmin and Suga reminds me each time of that scene from the drama.

Where's if actual couples did it, the reaction would be one of just pure awkwardness because no one knows how to react around couples. You can't stare at them on the bus when they kiss cos you feel you are the creep creeping up on private moments. It's just awkward and you don't know what to do with yourself.

Then if they are your friends you try to play it up by teasing them, mimicking them, hooting at them

Or you just exchange awkward glances and smirk

And to put things into perspective, Namjin cringing and bursting out a romantic soundtrack over Jikook's rain fight narration was warranted.

It was the first time they were hearing this from them and their reaction was as anyone would- yet Suga didn't find that cringing AT ALL like he had found VMins moment to be- just a smirk like it's just ridiculous with those two. See how similar Jin had reacted to their hickey story too?

Hobi forgets to react at all sometimes💀

He just smiles warmly and stares or laugh his brains out. Except for that one time Jungkook let it slip he wanted to be handcuffed by Jimin🥺

And why was it necessary for Tae to say that? Why was it necessary for Tae to make that confession? And why did the members intuitively assume JM was going to choose Jungkook for that? Namjoon went with V but only because he voided his gut instincts and used his head. We've all been there.

Jimin have said Tae has matured so much and we only see glimpses of Old Tae but he's different. Of course that's gonna impact the way they interact on screen.

They keep saying that's something a couple will do because THAT'S SOMETHING A COUPLE WILL REALLY DO.

There's no beating around the bush about it.

The ironical friends sharing a couch or they look exceptionally close today does not explain why they sneak into each other's hotel rooms or why cameras were placed in their rooms without their notice and Jikook had to walk in blindsided.

Jimins reaction was priceless.

You frankly don't need to see or hear them going out to restaurants to know something's up with those two. You don't.

Anyone who claims otherwise is just in denial.

Personally, if a Korean were to ask me about Jikook I'd say to them they are friends fuck off. If an Iarmy were to ask I'll say they are more than that. I see them for what they are and I celebrate them, I appreciate them, I love them and I support them. But I will protect them against anyone that posed a threat to their safety their well-being and their essence.

It's just the gay way.

And I feel this is often the conundrum people are faced with when it comes to Jikook. On one hand, they want to be celebrated- who wouldn't -but on the other hand their safety careers and lives could be as stake and they would want to protect that too.

And the best way to do that, if I were a company, would be to hide them in plain sight. Which is what everyone and their momma does with Jikook.

Jikook have not always been the creme de la creme of ships and hybe have not always used them as their go to fanservice ship. Granted fanservice is part of Kpop.

The Busan Brothers have split. The sun and moon duo blah- jikook don't nearly get marketed as a couple as much as other ships in bts to be frank. Editors have called Tae Kook romantic or a couple with chest in content, Sope get called couples almost everyday, they deliberately put members together to promote stuff because THEY ARE ALL THERE TO WORK.

This is somebody's business. They invest real money Into all of this. If ships were hurting their business and hard earned or borrowed money, they would dead that shit two dinosaurs ago. The fact they ain't said nothing means it's serving them. We are the puppets and they are the puppeteers.

They pull the strings and we go. Not the other way round.

As to whether they are doing this at the expense of Jikook, Jikook would be the best determiners of that. They have agency and in the past where they were "too young" to comprehend the consequences of their actions they had their hyungs to look at for them- hence all those tensions and allegations of members breathing down their necks.

Bighit was acting like Kris Jenner, encouraging them to strip and gyrate metaphorically for the cameras while they smiled all the way to the bank to cash out.

But it's 2022, a year where BTS have gone up against the government of Korea itsself and decided by themselves to call off any postponement to their military service and serve.

This is the same year you want to peddle the Hybe making Jikook do fanservice in their PRIVATE LIVES???

Girl BYE. Can't take you seriously.

I won't lie you lost me there.

WERE YOU IN THE FANDOM WHEN THEY ISSUED A STATEMENT TO THE EFFECT JUNGKOOK'S PERSONAL MATTERS IS NONE OF THEIR BUSINESS DURING HIS ITAEWON SCANDAL??

What they do off schedule really is none of our business or company's. Just as you get to go off work and your boss don't follow you home. It's reasonable to assume same for these boys.

YOU DIDN'T SEE HOW THEY SAID JACK SHIT ABOUT TAE JENNIE RUMORS?

There's been so much history and so much growth and the boys have accumulated enough socioeconomic capital to be reduced to such nonsensical levels of ridicule and bad takes.

And I'm sorry but what do you mean Jungkook should back off Jimin sometimes??

THE ANSWER IS A GRAND NO.

Read my lips, NEEEEEEUUUUUUUU

They are two legal adults half way through and almost 30, who determine whom to give their time and energy to and they choose to do that with each other- Oh look, I found something. Respect. Have some. For them.

Jimin has been spending his time with various persons both in a professional capacity and non professional capacity and we should be grateful that he is a functioning human being capable of functioning outside his group dynamic.

Going solo is pretty scary and they are all transitioning well and adjusting well to it. That's all that matters. Let's be glad that in spite of their personal projects that they make time to connect with their members and keep the spirit of BTS alive.

Real heartache is them finding BTS outside BTS and forgetting how precious their friend group once was.

But I get where you are coming from. rather than try to manifest Jungkook out of the picture, try manifesting your fave into the picture and go nag them until they call him up m- don't worry I'll put them through when the call comes. Wink.

Jimin is an extrovert and honestly he is well adjusted. I don't think he needs much help connecting with ppl.

My good sis, let's just enjoy the breadcrumbs while we can, before Jikook officially ties the knot🤧

Once they do it's game over for you and I and all the jm side ships on the black ship market🥺

I wouldn't say the company want ppl to believe Jikook are a thing. They only want you to believe they aren't a big deal. It's called normalization. The oldest trick in the books.

I'm high on pain meds.

I made sense some where I hope. Deadass💀

[hanalwayssolo]

i’ve allowed these random hfw headcanon things to gnaw and nibble away at my hyperfixating brain like a bunch of starving squirrels and god (by the forge! by the sun! by the ten!) i might as well write it down before i go insane during this long holiday weekend:

erend, in his thorough research of the ancient ones’ history with music, begins to use phrases like, “this beat is sick,” “this bop slaps!” or “this is a banger!” to describe the songs he thought are good. which are mostly heavy metal. in his defense, the only reason why the genre appealed to him was because it’s “the oseram blood” in him. (“it’s metal??? get it??? by the forge my people would love this!!”)

varl, to keep erend from blasting his questionable music taste in the base, often hijacks his focus with classical music he discovered along with zo and alva. mostly, varl plays vivaldi’s winter. erend was pissed at first but after being forced to listen to it on repeat, it’s actually… not that bad. in fact, his words were: “the beat drop in the middle? a solid 10/10.”

kotallo asking aloy about seashells has been a thing, but honestly, this was not at all a random question, nor did it come from nowhere. truth is, when he was a kid, he often traveled with his parents to the long coast, where he would watch the sea’s ebbs and flows, would listen as the water foams and makes a rustling sound as it meets the shore. he found it so mesmerising, somewhat resenting that he was not born in tide’s reach. now, after watching all the data that aloy has gathered in her travels and having learned that this strange object called a seashell carried the sound of the ocean in its body, he remembers a time when he told his mother how he wanted to “keep the music of the crashing waves in his pocket” so he can continue listening to it even from the bulwark. she only smiled at him and gave him a hug so warm his mother could have been the sun itself. anyway. this seashell seems like lovely thing to have, not just to have the ocean at his fingertips, but perhaps something to remember his mother by.

alva learns this thing called scrabble from the archives, a game played by the old ones to enhance their knowledge of the glyphs. (their word for it was vocabulary. or something to that effect.) she explains the mechanics to the rest of the gang, says that it’s similar to machine strike given how it’s played on a wooden board, but instead of machine pieces, it’s glyphs on a wooden tile. this discussion with the gang happens to coax beta out of the basement.

beta, of course, knows a thing or two about scrabble through the apollo training interface. she’s been so keen to try it out except she didn’t have anyone to play it with when she was still with the zeniths. here in the base, she offers to help in making the board, which more or less astounds everybody considering how… well… she’s been keeping mostly to herself, an isolation / kind of introversion worse than kotallo’s. this makes erend and varl immediately volunteer in carving the board. even kotallo promises he would find the best pigment to paint the glyphs on the tiles. zo and alva exchange a look that’s like, “did we just witness a nora, an oseram, and a tenakth agree on… collaborating?? for a board game??”

zo discovers the recipe for this thing called coffee and chocolate frosting, which she has heard kotallo mentioned during one of his machine strike sessions with erend. (“an oseram forging an unlikely friendship with a tenakth marshal? can you believe??” erend exclaims proudly one night, sharing his piss-poor ale with kotallo.) she lets erend, varl, and of course, kotallo, taste-test for her. the results yielded positive, if not close to catastrophic results. positive because they all seemed to thoroughly enjoy the coffee and the chocolate, but by catastrophic results, she supposes that maybe she added too much sugar and cacao beans? because somehow, the guys kind of… went berserk. they were so awake and alive and burning with a rush of energy that the trio decided to go out to train and hunt that by the time they came back, varl left a trail of dead burrowers outside the base. erend managed to collect a dozen of apex bristleback hearts. and kotallo… returned with a carcass of a stormbird and a massive boulder from the bulwark. zo will have a lot to explain to aloy about this.

aside from varl, the other person who enjoys talking to beta is actually alva. alva is very much fascinated with how beta knows a lot of things!! they spend evenings reading through the archives and talking to gaia, with beta often correcting alva’s quen version of things. of course, alva understands how beta might somehow come off as blunt and rude; after finding out how beta has been treated by the zeniths, alva would raise hell over these immortal jackasses if she could.

zo religiously tends to her garden outside the base by the cliffside facing plainsong, but every now and then, she’d notice how the plants are freshly watered just before she can get to the task herself, or how there’s often an unfamiliar addition to her pot of flowers. she doesn’t mind this at all; frankly, she appreciates it. she assumes varl might be behind this as he’s the only one who lends her a hand to keep their little lush space alive and to bring in more plants for the base—until gaia points out a fun fact in their passing conversation that the new flowers blooming in her garden are only native to tenakth soil. specifically, it only grows in the sheerside mountains. well. with that in mind, it doesn’t take long for zo to put two and two together. besides, it really doesn’t take a genius to figure out the identity of this secret gardener. 

so yeah, sure. sure. kotallo takes care of the cliffside garden in secret. i mean, why wouldn’t he? it’s on the way to the sunwing site where he often trains, and erend usually forgets to water the plants, anyway. and about the flowers... he wanted to bring something that reminds him of home and to honour the friends he lost. truth is, this was all gaia’s idea. ever since he told gaia about how he lost his arm and what happened in the embassy, she mentioned that one of the many things the old ones did to cope with the kind of thing he’s been through is to make a garden. (and by ‘that kind of thing’, the words that gaia used specifically were trauma and grief. he knows she means well but this didn’t make sense to him—he’s pretty sure he’s neither traumatised nor grieving. of course not. he’s fine. he’s absolutely, totally fine.)

(of course he’s NOT fine but by the fucking ten why would he dare to admit that out loud? and what is he if not in denial? yes, he felt this when he lost his parents—but how come this is different? how come this feels a lot heavier than when he was a kid? does grief change its form the older you get? what if he’s struggling to process these big and complex feelings because he grew up being taught how to fight and not to sit with grief? to only bury the dead and to keep moving forward? besides, who has time to grieve and to wallow on losses when his tribe is at the brink of another civil war? this has always been the tenakth way: to keep a stiff upper lip, to never let sentiment get in the way of duty. to mourn is as unnatural as a dreadwing being docile. so how, pray tell, could he ever let himself have a say when he’s hasn’t been taught to do so?)

so instead, kotallo learns how to plant flowers to make room for grief. he makes space for another when they lose varl in gemini. he realises later on that he might have been unkind to erend, how easily he let go of the words “we can’t sit around wallowing in our losses” as if varl was a thing and not a friend, because truthfully, he was coming from a place of fear for his tribe, which, in turn, diminished the way erend was dealing with this loss, who’s taking this harder than the rest of them. of course varl and erend go a long way back. this time, kotallo is the outsider to their friendship. and kotallo of all people should know what that kind of pain feels like. he lost an arm, yes, but to lose your friends, to be the only one to survive… isn’t the grief from all of that a kind of maiming, too?

#han.txt #horizon forbidden west #kotallo #zo #aloy #alva #erend #beta #varl #LISTEN. this has been driving me hogwild these last couple of weeks #guerilla gave me crumbs from their dialogue but still i THRIVED because i do not know! moderation! #i could go on and on about the gaia gang until i am old and shriveling in my sofa #but kotallo… man. #yeah sure he is daddy FINE but truth is he is also a baby girl #i can write a fifteen page essay about this fictional character and submit it as my dissertation for all i care #(also) #(can u imagine if we got his back story tho. like i firmly believe mr. dalal has the ✨range✨ to deliver the emotional goods) #anyway! #petition for GAIA to have them go to therapy #kotallo ESPECIALLY like put him in the priority list!!! #but yeah #lord knows they all need it lmfao

[shytastemakerthing]

Hi there! :D I saw that the Match event was open, so I hope to be in time to place my order with TWST boys! 🌻Info about me!🌼

MBTI: ENFP (but I'm an ambivert, I don't mind taking the role of introversion or extroversion depending on the situation.

Personality: I am calm but cheerful and sweet. I like to help and take care of those close to me and I always want to better understand people's hearts and how they understand or see the world from their perspective. I can be a little sleepyhead and little procrastinator but without neglecting my important duties. Sometimes I can be somewhat clueless or clumsy in things but I always try to do my best. People often say that I'm "a smart fool" sometimes I don't understand or grasp "obvious" or simple things, it's hard for me to grasp or learn something the first time.

But I understand and understand well my feelings and the feelings of the people around me. I do not like injustices or those who take advantage of others and I am willing to protect someone, Being a helping hand, even if i are not the strongest or bravest person. I like sweet food, I like to draw and the arts, I want to have a calm, simple and happy life. I like me I would like to live from gratitude for the simple fact of being grateful to this world and its people, either by being someone who can make this world a little happier with my ideas and support.

Hiya! Thank you so much for your request! As a fellow Ambivert, I had a LOT of fun on writing this. Just gotta know your people! I hope you enjoy! Did not see a romantic of platonic preference so romantic is default.

CW: just a little violence, given this boys particular upbringing but nothing to detailed

I match you with........

Ruggie Bucchi

🍩 First and foremost, Ruggie loves just how understanding you can be of others and the situation that they are currently in or have been in in the past. With his upbringing living in what is basically the slums, seeing the violence that he did, not knowing when he was going to have another meal, while trying to protect himself and his family, sometimes by unsavory means, it means a lot to him that you try to understand things from his perspective of things. It shows that you really do care.

🍩 Ruggie has a lot of street smarts and certainly book smarts after everything, and with how much you love to be able to help him and others, he'll certainly repay the favor.... sometimes for a price. Hey, old habits die hard. But if you bring him some sweets, especially donuts, you're all good to go.

🍩 Being another sweets lover, I feel that sweets weren't always something he could enjoy growing up given where he had grown up. So, for you to just come along and just gift him some sweets that you had, especially if it was like a box of donuts you managed to get your hands on, he is over the moon. Sure, at first he was rather skeptical. After all, who woukd just gave away their food for free? Everything has a price. But after a while, he just got rather used to itand welcomes it with open arms and an open mouth.

🍩 The fact that you are always so willing to help others around you tugs at his heart. What sealed the deal was when he took you to his home during break, he was honestly very nervous that when you saw where and how be lived and grew up, you'd leave, only to be pleasantly surprised when you instantly offered to help those who needed it. At this point, the whole village loves you and is always asking Ruggie when you would visit again, especially his grandmother, she absolutely adores you.

🍩 A calm, simple, and happy life. Deep down, he wants it as well. A life where he doesn't have to worry about putting food on the table, or wonder if anything horrible is going to happen. A simple life with you, it makes him smile. I can see him being a bit of a minimalist goven his upbringing and being happy with the little things, so, as long as he has you, and maybe a nice little home with you in the future, he is as happy as can be.

🍩 He understands your sleepiness. After a very long day of studies, spelldrive practice, doing errands for Leona, he is exhausted by the end of the day. So, the fact that he gets to come back for snuggles and a good nap? His tail is thumping softly as he curls in your arms. Granted, it is a little hard to actually get him to that point. Time is money after all, but with some sweet words and the promise of donuts, he will be putty in your arms and is just cuddling under the blankets.

🍩 As a male hyena beastman, there are times where it definitely more submissive, as is male hyena behavior when around females. So, at times, this behavior will reflect when he is with you, but deep down, he also loves it when he gets to protect you at various times. It floods him with a sense of accomplishment and pride to show he can be a good, protective, and providing mate.

🍩 Ruggie, after a while, is big on giving you gifts. Whether it comes from him wanting to show that he can provide for you or because he feels the need to give them to you so you'll stay with him (he has a little issues on self worth , he just doesn't want you to leave him if he feels like he can't provide), we may never know. But he will manage to get materilea for you for your love of drawing. No matter what it is, he manages to find a sale and is constantly bringing you anything you'd like.

🍩 Overall, there are times where Ruggie is still rather confused as to why you chose someone like him to be with when there are literal princes in this school, but at the end of the day, he isn't complaining. You love him for who he is and he loves you for who you are.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst #matchups #twst imagines #disney twisted wonderland #romantic #ruggie #ruggie bucci x reader #twst ruggie #ruggie x reader #ruggie bucchi #shy answers #shy writes

[charliedawn]

Hello! I don't know if asks are open. If they aren't, you can fully ignore this and I apologize. However if they are open, how would both Penny brothers react to Michael Myers' shy daughter (who is a new patient) being their shared mate? Also, what kind of best friend would Carrie be to said new female patient?

Thank you in advance and I hope you have the best morning/evening. 🙂

Carrie would immediately be drawn to you as she would recognize herself in you and appreciate your introversion.

Carrie isn't one to make friends easily, but she found something in you that made her feel as if she could open up to you.

You helped each other become a little bit braver and she found in you an anchor and you found in her someone who you could relate to and laugh with when times are rough.

You then quickly became best friends and she even introduced you to her adoptive father (Liam) and her other adopted sister (Sadako).

She basically made you part of the family.

Carrie was the first one to notice the soft spot that the Penny Brothers have for you.

She didn’t want to pry, but she overheard one of their arguments about you and decided to tell you.

You *surprised at the news* : "Nah..Stop pulling my leg here !"

Carrie : "Come on. It's obvious, Y/N. The way they're looking at you..They really like you."

You *shake your head* : "No way..They can't..They wouldn't..*moment of silent thinking*...Would they ?"

Carrie *roll her eyes and smiles* : "You really are clueless..They were practically drooling, during all dinner."

You *laughs* : "And ? What's new ?"

Carrie *laughs too* : "Good point."

Both clowns became infatuated with you for different reasons.

Penny saw in you a challenge and Pennywise, an equal.

Penny is outgoing and the type of clown to crack a smile on anyone’s face and he saw your shyness as something he may use to his advantage (still evil clown here)

He saw it as his personal goal to make himself your only friend at first and then, your only mate.

Penny *smiles widely when he sees you and takes your hand to dance with you in front of everyone* : "COME ON, Y/N ! COME DANCE WITH ME ! LET'S HAVE SOME FUN..*pulls you closer to whisper in your ear*..Let all the idiots see who you belong to.."

He would make sure that everybody knows you're taken..Permanently.

However, Pennywise wouldn't see it the same way.

Pennywise *glares at the both of you dancing before walking away with his hands in his pockets and trying to get away from the crowds*

You *notice and run after him* : "Pennywise ! Wait.."

Pennywise *surprised when you grab him by the arm and smile up at him*

You : "Where are we going ?"

Him *smiles and shrugs* : "Where you wanna ?"

You *think about it* : "How about..*favorite place* ?"

Him *smiles and nods* : "Fine by me.."

Pennywise can create illusions and its something you both like to do to get away from the world.

Penny can too, but Penny has trouble controlling his powers sometimes and could very well send you both to a whole other place, a nightmarish one with alternate dimensions' abominations.

Pennywise is more experienced and was enticed by your shy nature and kind-hearted personality.

Things…changed, when they discovered they were both after the same mate.

What you have to understand is that it will be difficult for the clowns to share.

They are both pretty possessive and are quick to become jealous, especially since Penny is very sure of himself and his brother is not.

Penny will try to assert dominance very quickly.

Penny *giggles as he understands that his brother is after the same mate as him and tilts his head to the side with a mocking grin* : "You should quit now, brother..Before you get hurt."

Pennywise *glares at him and huffs a laugh* : "Really ? And why is that ?"

Pennywise *giggles again, as if the answer is obvious* : "Because, they'll eventually choose me at the end."

Pennywise would be overwhelmed with self-doubt, as he knows Penny is right.

Penny is cuter, younger and his shape-shifting powers more evolved than his would ever be..

And besides that, Pennywise would do anything for Penny, even forgetting his own happiness and let him have you..

But, then would appear Michael and his words of wisdom. 😂

Michael *sighs and writes down* : "Why the long face ?"

Pennywise *growls half-heartedly* : "You wouldn’t understand.."

Michael *arks a skeptical eyebrow and writes down* : "Try me.."

Michael is not only your father, he acts as a father figure to all of the slashers and even though he is quite protective, he is not particularly possessive.

He understands that the mating process is not one you choose and would do his best to help the Penny Brothers.

He would try to be as understanding as possible and not let his affection for you keep you away from your happiness.

He would help you if you've got doubts, but also help the Penny Brothers if they come to him for advice.

...However, if they hurt you ?

Myers doesn't have any fears.

May God have mercy on the Penny Brothers..because the boogeyman won't have any.

#carrie white #pennywise 1990 #pennywise 2017 #pennywise x reader #michael myers x daughter!reader #fandoms #imagine #fanfic #pennywise 1990 x y/n x pennywise 2017 #slashers au #slashers

[inlovewithfictionalbeings]

i miss that old rrr tumblr too but we all people are still here doing our best to relieve this fandom and we can never stop posting about it cuz its a very big and important part of our life

heyy love, come on we can still enjoy among ourselves OULD LOVE TO BE FRIENDS WITH YOU AND HAVE FUN AND AMAZING MOMENTS FOR RRR

Can totally relate to each and every word. RRR is 🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻!

Hey👋 *awkwardly waves and hides under my introversion*

#rrr #<3

[daniigrimm-blog]

Yeah Boy & Doll Face, this is Bulletproof Love so Throw a Match into Water cos Today I Saw The Whole World and it's The Jaws of Life

Pierce the Veil did the walk of shame out of a tour with All Time Low in 2017 and that same year announced that drummer Mike Fuentes would be leaving the band; they cited that they wanted a safe feeling environment for their younger fanbase and honestly in the six or so years that the two girls that came forward with receipts and allegations really nothing has been done and that is a shame. A couple to a few years ago (not sure on exact date) they did a quarantine video featuring the drummer however and they have yet to remove his image from their Epic Win playlist but I do digress, it does seem the band has been trying to turn over a new leaf and move on sans Mike Fuentes.

That being said, let's do a deep delve into what exactly has been up with Pierce the Veil--active members are now Victor Fuentes (guitar), Tony Perry (Lead Guitar), and Jaime Preciado (Bass).

So what have these guys been up to the last decade?! Well it seems they were busy growing and having families. That's right ladies, sorry to say--these three starling studs are currently off the market. Sad, I know, but that's not why we're fucking here. We are here for the music. I did think that it was very sweet that Vic, Jaime, AND Tony settled down with seemingly the loves of their lives and that Danielle, Vic's wife, recently gave birth to their first baby Violet Valentine Fuentes! I'm excited for them and their newest adventure together as new parents. As a parent myself I wish nothing but the very best for them and as someone who can no longer make these cute little babies, I am certainly excited for whatever pics they have to share.

Now let's talk music.

Where were you on February 10th, 2023 when The Jaws of Life dropped? i was in my room, I know rather anticlimactic but, I am always in my room. Introversion aside, I remember putting on my headphones and gearing up to rock out to PTV's newest jams and my god was I not disappointed.

In an interview for Blabbermouth.net Fuentes says: "This album has truly brought us closer than we've ever been. It was extremely difficult for us to be off the road and apart for so long. We've never missed anything more than playing music together and never had such an strong appreciation for recording, touring, and simply being in the same room together than we do now. 'The Jaws Of Life' is about how life can sink its teeth into you and try to devour you. The negativity in the world and within your mind can be a vicious thing. We're extremely grateful for this record, our fans, and the opportunity to play live music again."

The first single release from the new album, was Pass the Nirvana--let's start here. Clowncore visuals aside (I am deathly afraid of clowns!) I'd say the music video takes me right back to a 90s grunge era when I was a stinky teenager watching TRL on my couch. Flash warning, for the sensitive.

“‘Pass the Nirvana’ is about the many horrible traumas that the youth of America have endured over the past few years. COVID, no proms, no graduations, an insurrection, school shootings. The list goes on. Their lives have been tossed around like clothes in a dryer, as the tensions within our country have infiltrated our own homes, friends, and families. To me, the song represents a euphoric detachment from all of that anxiety and stress and about finding some form of peace or nirvana.”

That tracks. The grungy guitar riffs and metaphorical lyrics really tie this track together in a pretty plaid bow. There were a lot of things this year that made me question what year it was, but I'd relive the 90s again as adult this time--why not? could be fun, some of the trends were neat.

The second single on the album is throwing the same vibes; albeit the song is different in many ways as the first single. For instance, both are desperate situations with meaningful lyrics. Both have underlying 90s grunge rock vibes. But Emergency Contact is essentially about a pair of lovers; one is ready to move their relationship further and is frustrated with the other who is still unsure if they should. Vic Fuentes tells you the meaning in his own words here. It's a lovely melody that I think is comparable to their collide with the sky style. Which was also very nice to hear again.

Now that brings me to their third single off their Fifth album (Fearless Records) , The Jaws of Life, Even When I'm Not With You. This is my FAVORITE out of the three singles so far, but I am as HUGE sucker for a good rock ballad.

“This song was inspired by a text my manager sent me while I was going through a rough time. I thanked her for being there for me, and she said, ‘Even when I’m not with you, I’m still with you.’ That phrase touched my heart and inspired me to write a love song dedicated to my wife about no matter how far away I am on tour, I’m still devoted to her, and we will always be connected through our love.”

The lyrics are sweet, the looping riff is melodic and wonderful and I 100% love this track. Favorite track on the album? No, sorry--but definitely my favorite listed of the three singles. If you hate Gold Medal Ribbon or the vibes thrown on Misadventures then I don't want to hear anything you have to say. Your opinion is sadly invalid here on my blog, move along.

How many tracks are on The Jaws of Life? 12.

So we've already been over tracks 2-4, no need to readdress those. Let's go back to the Death Of An Executioner.

“The visual of this song, to me, is a car that’s following you—like the video for ‘Karma Police’ by Radiohead. It’s got its headlights on your back, and it’s just kind of slowly creeping on you. To me, it represents social media and people expecting perfection out of you and always waiting for you to make a mistake so they can run you down and destroy you. I like the title ‘Death of an Executioner’ because it describes killing the person who’s trying to kill you.”

Hello Alt Rock/Rock Electronica Radiohead influences! YES, I am HERE for it 100%. The harmonizing laid over vocals just work. And the filter effect over Fuentes' voice is mesmerizing. Kinda partial to the repeating of "blood red moonlight" as a good scene setter too--just GREAT imagery here. Plus, have you listened to it yet? You should--the song goes really hard.

Flawless Execution. It's the fifth track. on the fifth album.

“This one’s kind of hard to describe. I feel like it’s about people blurring the lines between love and sex and vice versa. It’s almost about when you’re OK with being used because you want to be close to the person so badly. You want love so badly that you’re actually OK with being used or abused, kind of like the Bill Withers song ‘Use Me.’ So, it’s about those extremes that we go to just to be validated. If you’re always desiring someone’s approval, it can go to some toxic places.”

"I'll scar you with my flawless execution every time." This. is actually one song that really caught my ear the first time I heard it. Man what a smooth earworm it really is! And that chorus really hooks you. Not sure what that says about me, now knowing the meaning of the song (fuck it I already kinda knew what it implied), nah--it really doesn't change my mind. This song slaps. It's definitely one to put on and really enjoy.

So far, I really think that consistently this band has grown with each album release and that really says something. Personally, their Dance Gavin Dance/Myspace screamcore on A Flair for the Dramatic wasn't my favorite (I know Ill get hate for that) but they were still growing as people and as a band. After doing infinite amount of touring and getting to know other musicians/bands they did some dabbling and grew into Selfish Machines--Besitos really hooked me. And it just got better from there my dudes! Hold the freaking phone! When Collide With The Sky and new doors and opportunities were opening for them--that was it for me. I was a fan. Misadventures , which won album of the year in 2017 circulated so many times on my playlist that I lost count. And then--radio silence. Man, when the allegations dropped I was heartbroken.

For a long time I did not support a band that I loved because of one person doing a misdeed and that was not fair. Not fair to the people who weren't involved, and not fair to me personally because of what their art does for me. When they finally addressed things and booted that rootie tootie from the band, I almost threw confetti into the air! They did the right thing, for those girls, for the fandom, and for the band. Now, they could begin to grow--and GROW THEY DID.

It took just short of a decade but we finally got NEW Pierce the Veil, and man am I just so happy with what they have given us. That finally brings me to the title track, The Jaws of Life.

“It’s about trying to get released from life’s grip and finding your way. There’s a line in it where I say I’m having the time of my life rotting in the sun, inside the jaws of life. It’s trying to be OK with where you are and starting to feel happy again—I’m making my way, and I know that I can see some light. There’s a lot of ’90s influence in this song musically, which I’m super stoked on. The verse feels like Tripping Daisy or Superdrag—I was thinking about their song ‘Sucked Out’ a lot when I was writing this one.”

That is super befitting because so far I can hear all the 90s undertones and influences from track 1 to the title track. Superdrag, Tripping Daisy, Smashing Pumpkins, Radiohead, Bush, Soundgarden, and a little Nirvana. These are great fucking influences to have and man, I love that they are just spinning them into their own modern grunge pop and I am here for it. As a fan of many different types of rock and pop I have to say this is taken and done--and it is done well. Kudos to production and underlying bts workers/musicians that put their time and effort into this. This album is fully flushed out, very well produced, and thematic from track one to track twelve. Just pure perfection.

This is what went into the Production of PTV's fifth studio album.

The seventh track on the album is quite possibly my favorite. It's consistently stuck in my head no matter what I do to get it out but I'm not even really trying at this point--it's too good. It can take up rent free space in my head for as long as it possibly desires to--because jesus fuck it is glorious! It's called Damn The Man, Save The Empire.

“I’ve been trying to use this title for years, but it’s never felt right until now. It’s a quote from one of my favorite movies, Empire Records. Lyrically, it’s about how no one can really know who you are until they’ve really spent some time with you. I feel that way sometimes when people follow our band on social media and think they have me pegged, but you’re seeing what I want you to see, not who I fully am. So, it’s just reminding people about that superficial experience.”

Instrumentally this combines grungey hard guitars with dreamy vocals that portray that same kind of dreamy vibe that social media gives you with a filter on it. "No one like us anyway..." is another relatable vibe but im starting to get that not everyone is built to be an extrovert and you only live one life--so why spend it trying to please people that don't like you when they don't matter? Great song. Even better message.

Track 8 is called Resilience.

“With this song, I had this vision of that classic scene in the movies when the hand pops out of the dirt after they’ve been buried alive, and the person starts pulling their body up to the surface. It’s like when you’re digging your way out of this hole, and your eyes finally see the sun and they adjust. Also, one of my most proud moments on this record is that we got to use a quote from Dazed and Confused to start the song. We actually had to have the actors approve that. It was such a win for the album.”

It starts off with a familiar scene from a movie most of us grew up with. I don't know about the children today, but I don't really care. It's a cult classic and Idgaf what the kids younger than me have to say about it really. The acoustic guitar is melodic and almost waltz like, and vic's crooning swoony voice wraps this song up nicely. "It's odd that I-keep runnin into spiderwebs, runnin into spiderwebs at night." was a really neat lyric I picked up on in that song. Very neat visuals.

Track 9 is called Irrational Fears . It's a 20 second interlude of an air flight assistant talking over an intercom. I don't really have much to say about this.

Vic said this:

“This is an interlude that sets up the next song. It was inspired by that first scene in the movie Garden State, with Zach Braff, where he’s on a plane that’s going down and everyone is freaking out around him, but he’s perfectly calm. We wanted to set the scene with this British flight attendant being all chipper but saying really dark things. Jaime made the music, and then my friend who’s a voice actor recorded the voiceover in London. It was a fun challenge, and I’m really proud of how it came out.”

Track 10 is called Shared Trauma and it's vapidly becoming one of my favorite PTV tracks. I guess personally, it touches very close to home. My family hasn't had the easiest life up until now, we have a lot of shared trauma but it's made us closer because of it--and it's certainly helped us grow knowing that.

“The title kind of speaks for itself. I’ve always felt that shared trauma and going through a traumatic experience with somebody can be one of the strongest bonds in human existence. Knowing that you’ve both been through something together will always connect you in such a powerful way. I think that’s beautiful—it’s the good that can come out of the bad. Musically, it was very much a collaborative band effort that came out of this loopy analog beat that Jaime sent me. It was really fun to write.”

So Far, So Fake starts off with couple of slow arpeggios that set the mood for the song which is cut into like a knife by Vic's sharp vocals to form a smooth even climb through the rest of the melody. The chorus is catchy, man, and does it stick if you let it. It's a hit. 100%. If they were to make another music video off this album, I would get in line to watch this one (but who are we kidding? I would get in line to watch any videos they decided to make as long as Mike isn't in them.)

“This song was written in 2017, so we’ve had it for a long time. It was one of the only ones that made it from some of the first writing sessions we did before the pandemic. It’s about if you’ve ever been betrayed by somebody you felt was a friend, and the wound never really mended—where even an apology doesn’t feel like it’s enough. It feels like it can never really be resolved. So, it’s a bit angry, a bit sour, a bit difficult to think about. But I always want to write about things that are affecting my life.”

I do recall a time where Vic had mentioned he was cheated on by someone who wasn't exactly exclusive with him? I don't remember the interview exactly but I do remember hearing it. Maybe that applies here. Maybe and I'm not saying this to start anything--it hits even closer to home and it's about Mike and what he did. They are family, and the band did lose out on a member. I imagine that would affect everyone very deeply and there would be wound that needed healing. I'm glad though, whatever the case, that Vic was able to get this out--it seemed he needed to. Music can be very therapeutic. Not just to us but to the artists who create it especially.

The final track on the album is called 12 Fractures and it is a lovely duet between Victor and an artist named Chloe Moriondo. She/They have never come up on my radar before but some how are an active member on the emo scene. She's/They've hung out with everyone from the likes of All Time Low, and Simple Plan, and now to Pierce the Veil and I love her/them for it. And can I just say that Her/Their voice is just wonderful. It's safe to say, I love this song.

Shout out to all the legal smokers of medicinal 420. I cannot wait til they federally legalize. We just need to move forward as a society but I digress, "Oh thank god for THC" is one lyric grab I loved from this song but it's just one. And it makes it all that more relatable.

“The song was called ‘12 Fractures’ before it became the 12th song on the album. We didn’t plan it like that. I’m glad it worked out that way, but it also makes things confusing. I’m actually looking at our vinyl right now to make sure it doesn’t just say ‘Fractures.’ But this one came from a deeply personal story about a friend of mine who went through a divorce. I watched two of my favorite people in the world just fall apart. When friends break apart like that, it’s like losing a family member. It’s super difficult, even as a bystander. It was cool to get Chloe on the song to bring the story to life. I’m a big fan of hers, and I think she did an amazing job.”

Now that I heard her/them on this song I will certainly be looking into her music because to be quite frank I just hadn't heard of her. I do love getting new music on my radar all the time though and this is usually how I find it. Artist collabs are SO so good for expanding the playlist repertoire-just trust me.

Did this convince you to go get The Jaws of Life and give it a listen? I sure hope so. It's fucking amazing on many levels. They did grow, they did change, and what they created is something I'll be blasting on my playlists for the next few years--but hey, let's maybe not make us wait another decade for new tunes next time guys? Pretty please?

Thanks.

D. Grimm

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Some may not be linked because of space in the post my apologies, they can be found with a simple google search.

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