#do i think this was a helpful explanation? maybe

[ggukivrse]

THIRD TIME'S THE CHARM | JJK

summary. when you complain to jungkook about your lack of action in the past year, you're not really asking for a solution. but when he casually offers to help, you just can't seem to bring yourself to say no.

after all, what's the worst that could happen in hooking up just this once?

pairing: jeon jungkook x f!reader

genre: friends to lovers, smut, fluff, slight angst

word count: 7.7k

warnings: swearing, they actually talk about their feelings :0, explicit sexual content, kissing, making out, hickeys, dry humping, oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (be smarter than them pls), a bit of banter, petnames (baby), they're really fucking cute in the end it makes me sick, let me know if i missed anything!

notes: idk if this counts as my first completed series buttt... i'm gonna act like it does. thank you so so much to all the love and support you guys have given me for the past two parts, i'm genuinely so beyond grateful for it all :<< hopefully, you guys enjoy this part too!!

ps. READ PART ONE HERE & PART TWO HERE!!

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You open his chat window again like it’s muscle memory. Like your thumb don't know how to not betray you.

It’s not even about sending something. You’ve got no intention of doing that. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. But the screen is always open, staring back at you with that last unread message you sent almost a week ago — a throwaway meme you found on your lunch break. No reply. Not even a reaction.

And it hadn’t felt like a big deal in the moment. You sent it like always, light and dumb and nothing. But then the nothing kept going. No little gray typing bubble. No 'lol.' No double text. No late night 'you up?' Just this wall of silence.

You would’ve rather gotten a dry reply. Hell, even a thumbs up. Anything to prove that he saw you.

But now it’s been long enough that sending something new would feel desperate. Like you’re chasing him. Like you’re asking for something you’re not even supposed to want.

You lock your phone and throw it face down on your bed.

Then pick it back up five seconds later.

Then toss it again, harder, as if that’ll prove something.

You wish you were mad. You think you are mad — at least a little. But it’s a tangled kind of anger. One that knots itself up with embarrassment and sharp, bitter shame. You want to scream at him, yeah. But also at yourself.

Why did you let this happen?

Why did you let him blur the lines and kiss you like that and touch you like he meant it?

You were supposed to be smarter than this.

You lie back across your bed with one arm flung over your eyes. It’s stupid. You know it’s stupid. It was just sex. Just two nights. Two insanely good, dangerously close, way-too-connected nights. But still — technically just sex.

Except it wasn’t.

Not when he remembered your favourite sauce order without asking. Not when he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear while you ranted about work.

And especially not when he went cold the second things felt too good.

That’s what keeps twisting the knife. That shift in him. Like someone flipped a switch and rewrote the script. One minute, he was holding you like you mattered. The next, you were stepping out of his bathroom and into a stranger’s apartment.

You haven’t heard his voice since.

You bite the inside of your cheek and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to push down that lump of feeling before it rises too high.

It’s fine. You’re fine. You’re overthinking it.

Maybe he’s just going through something. Maybe he didn’t mean to shut you out. Maybe he thought you didn’t want to hear from him. Or maybe he’s just a fucking coward who got scared when the stakes changed.

But then, why didn’t you reach out?

Why didn’t you ask if he was okay, or tell him he was being weird, or demand an explanation like you’re owed one?

Because you’re afraid.

Because you don’t want the truth if the truth is that he regrets all of it.

Because deep down, you know this isn’t just a friendship anymore, and pretending it is would break you worse than silence.

Your phone buzzes once on the comforter beside you.

You freeze. Then sit up fast, breath catching halfway in your throat.

Your eyes are already scanning the screen before your brain can fully catch up.

Kook 🍜: hi

One word. Just hi. Like the last seven days didn’t happen. Like your stomach hasn’t been in knots trying to make sense of his silence. Like he didn’t vanish without warning after folding you into his sheets and leaving you to figure out what the hell it meant.

Your breath leaves you in one uneven exhale.

You blink at the message, your body locked in this strange stillness. Your thumb hovers, frozen. Part of you is tempted to stare at it until it disappears. Ignore it. Let him feel what it’s like to be the one left hanging. But your hands betray you again — just like they always do with him.

You: Radio silence for a week and all I get is a fucking hi? Wtf Jungkook

It’s not even what you really want to say, but it’s the closest thing you can manage that doesn’t sound like I missed you so much it made me sick or please don’t do this again.

Three dots appear.

Your heart squeezes like it’s caught in someone’s fist. And then the dots vanish.

Then come back.

Then vanish again.

You mutter, “Fucking say something,” to no one. It comes out too small, too desperate. You shut your eyes tight for a second like you can wring the feeling out of yourself by force.

A minute or so passes before his reply finally sends.

Kook 🍜: sorry. can i talk to you today?

You reread it so many times the text starts to lose meaning. Can I talk to you today?

You feel sick.

There’s no way you don’t know what this is. The phrasing. The tone. He wants to talk? What the fuck else could that mean, if not that he’s about to cut things off? That he’s going to hand you some polite little speech about how you’re great, but this can’t happen again. That he wants to stay friends and he doesn’t want to confuse things any more than he already has.

Or worse — he thinks you guys are better off cutting contact all together.

You bite down hard on your thumb, suddenly on the verge of tears and furious at yourself for it. You should’ve never let it get here. You should’ve drawn the line before the second time. Before the car. Before the party.

You should’ve been more careful with your heart.

But you’re here now. So far past the line you can’t even see it anymore.

You open your keyboard, then close it again. You want to ask what he wants to talk about. You want to demand answers over text so you don’t have to see his face when he says the words. But you know you won’t get anything that way.

You: Where?

Kook 🍜: i can come to yours

You sit there for a second, just breathing. You feel like you’re bracing for a crash that’s already midair.

You: What time?

Kook 🍜: i can be there in an hour?

You don’t answer. Not right away. You’re too busy staring at your reflection in the dark screen, wondering why your face looks so calm when your body feels like it’s trying to collapse in on itself.

You: Okay

You put the phone down carefully, like it might go off again, or explode, and turn your gaze to the ceiling. Every minute after this is going to stretch like it’s mocking you.

You don’t know if you’re getting closure or clarity. You don’t even know which one would hurt more.

But you know you won't cancel.

Because if this is going to end — if he’s going to say it — it has to be to your face. You need to see it.

You need to know for sure.

Jungkook is fucked.

Like, actually, cosmically, irreversibly fucked.

He stares at the elevator doors like they’re the gates to hell, and his own reflection in the brushed metal does him no favours. He looks tense. Jaw tight, shoulders hunched up high like he’s trying to fold himself into a more manageable version. Someone chill. Someone who isn’t about to shit himself over the thought of seeing you.

He rolls his shoulders back, shakes out his hands. Useless. He’s already sweating through his hoodie.

Every nerve in his body feels like it’s tuned an octave too high. Like if someone so much as breathes in his direction right now, he’ll either snap or confess something humiliating.

He wipes his palms on his jeans again. That’s the fourth time since the lobby.

The worst part is, he knows how he got here. He knows exactly when it happened, too — the moment the line moved.

It was your laugh. The tired kind, all cracked at the edges after that hellish Friday you had. You were curled up in his passenger seat, half out of it, feet tucked under you, and you’d looked over at him with that soft, worn-down smile.

And it just… hit him.

The weight of it. Of you.

He wanted to reach over and touch your face. Not to tease. Not to start something. Just to feel your skin under his fingers like it was allowed now.

And the second that thought formed — clear and blinding and way too tender — it was over. Game fucking over.

Because it wasn’t supposed to feel like that.

You’re his best friend. Have been for years. He knows how you take your coffee, how you organise your playlists by mood, how you chew on the inside of your cheek when you're anxious. You’re not just some girl he hooked up with at a party. You’re you.

And now, he’s standing in an elevator on the way to your apartment, trying not to think about how badly he messed it all up.

He hadn’t meant to ghost you. Not really. It was just — after that night, after the way you looked at him, all warm and trusting — he panicked. Full-body, brain-scrambling, total system failure. He couldn’t even look at you without feeling like he was seconds from saying something stupid like "Don’t sleep with anyone else, please," or "I think I’m in love with you."

So instead, he shut down. Did the one thing he always swore he wouldn’t do with you — he pulled away. Got weird. Avoided it. Avoided you.

And now you’re pissed.

Rightfully so.

He deserved that text you sent. Probably worse. You could’ve ignored him completely and he wouldn’t have blamed you. But you didn’t. You texted back and he’s clinging onto that like a lifeline. Because it means there’s still time. Still a chance to fix it — if he doesn’t blow it again.

He presses the heel of his hand to his chest like that might steady the erratic rhythm of his heart.

What the fuck is he even going to say?

Sorry for being an emotionally constipated idiot?

Sorry I ghosted you because I realised I’m in love with you and it short-circuited my whole fucking personality?

Sorry I thought I could fuck you and still keep pretending like you don’t mean more to me than anyone else?

The elevator dings.

Jungkook flinches like it slapped him, then scrubs a hand through his hair, lets out a tight breath, and steps through the doors before he can change his mind.

He’s here.

Fuck. He’s actually here.

Jungkook looks like he didn’t sleep last night. Hair messy, clothes a little wrinkled, eyes flicking up to meet yours for a second before they dart away again. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his jacket like he’s afraid of what they’ll do if left unsupervised.

You tell yourself not to feel relieved. Not to let it show. He didn’t cancel. He showed up. That shouldn’t mean as much as it does. It really, really shouldn’t.

But still — there’s something in your chest that unclenches when you see him standing there, real and present. Even if he does look like he’s about to apologise for burning down your house or something.

“Hey,” he says, voice quiet.

You step back from the door to let him in. Dry. Wordless. The move is automatic, but your body feels stiff with it, like your own muscles are annoyed on your behalf.

He hesitates before stepping inside, like he thinks the floor might swallow him up. You don't offer a smile. Don't even look at him once the door’s closed behind him.

You cross your arms and lean back against the edge of the kitchen counter, watching him with a blank expression that’s only half-real. The other half is tightly coiled under your skin — anger, sure, but under that, all the feelings you’ve been pretending not to have.

He does a slow, uncertain glance around your apartment like something might’ve changed since the last time he was here. But it hasn’t. It’s still your place. Same plants, same overhead light humming softly, same faint scent of laundry detergent that clings to the air.

He stands there awkwardly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. It’s like he doesn’t know where to put his body.

You’ve never seen him like this before. Not around you. Jungkook’s always been comfortable here. The kind of comfortable that leaves shoes by the door without asking. The kind that opens your fridge like he owns a shelf. But right now, he looks like a stranger in someone else’s house.

You let the silence stretch out. You’re waiting for him to just speak, but he doesn’t

He doesn’t even try.

Eventually, your voice cuts through the air, a little too sharp. “Jungkook, you said you wanted to talk.”

His head snaps up like he forgot that was part of the deal. Like the fact that he came here at all already cost him everything he had in reserve.

“Yeah,” he says. His throat moves when he swallows. “I do.”

You raise your eyebrows, waiting.

He opens his mouth like he’s about to start, then closes it again. Shifts his stance. Rubs the back of his neck with one hand. You catch the way his eyes flick to the floor, then back to you, then away again.

You narrow your eyes. “Well?”

He breathes out a weak, almost bitter laugh and runs both hands down his thighs, like he’s physically trying to ground himself. “I don’t know how to do this,” he mutters.

You frown, arms still crossed tight across your chest. “What? Talk?”

You hate being like this towards him — you feel like a bitch. But it’s the only way that you can stop yourself from just spilling all of your thoughts and feelings to him.

“No, I—” He breaks off, jaw flexing. “No. I mean… say the right thing. Say any of it without sounding like an idiot.”

You blink, unimpressed. “So you came here without knowing what you were gonna say.”

He looks at you then. Fully. And for the first time since he walked in, you see the real wreckage behind his eyes. There’s nothing cool or casual about it. He’s unravelling in slow motion. Everything about him is quiet desperation wrapped in someone trying really hard not to fall apart.

“I didn’t know what to say because I didn’t know what I wanted,” he says finally. “And then I figured it out, and that somehow made it worse.”

You stay silent.

He shifts closer, not by much — just a few inches. “I fucked up,” he adds, voice barely above a whisper. “I know I did. I know I disappeared. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t care. I was just—” he stops, jaw tightening again. “I got scared.”

You scoff under your breath and look away.

“I’m serious,” he says, softer now. “It freaked me out. How fast it happened. How much it changed.”

You look back at him, jaw set. “What changed?”

He swallows again. Stiff. His voice cracks a little when he speaks next.

“You,” he says again. “How I feel about you. That changed.”

Your chest tightens.

You don’t react, not visibly. You keep your face still, unreadable, even though your brain is suddenly scrambling. You’ve been yanked in too many directions this past week. You’re not going to lean into hope just because he finally decided to speak.

So you say nothing. You just hold his gaze and wait.

Jungkook takes a breath, his shoulders rising with it, then falling in a slow, deliberate exhale. The nervousness is still there — but it’s settled into something quieter now.

“I kept trying to tell myself it didn’t mean anything,” he says. “That it was just— whatever. Two friends, getting carried away. We were drunk the first time, right? It was easy to lie to myself about that. Easy to say it didn’t have to go anywhere.”

His voice is calm, but there's tension underneath it.

“But the second time?” He pauses, tongue running along the inside of his cheek, eyes still locked on yours. “That wasn’t drunk. That wasn’t casual. That was me driving us across town just to make you feel better, because I can’t stand it when you’re not okay.”

You flinch — barely — but he sees it. You know he does.

“And then it was me kissing you like I’d lose my mind if I didn’t. You think I didn’t notice how different that felt? I’ve never kissed you like that before. And I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.”

The weight of his words hangs in the air between you.

You’re still standing by the counter, arms crossed, but now your grip has loosened. You hate how much this is getting to you, how badly you want to give in, how your chest aches just hearing him say the things you’d only let yourself think when the lights were off and your phone screen was dark.

Jungkook takes another step toward you.

“When I brought you back to mine that night… when you came out of the shower, and I saw you just standing there in my space, looking at me like I was safe…” His voice catches, but not in a way that makes him crumble — just enough to show the truth of it. “I freaked the fuck out.”

You blink at him, finally speaking. “Yeah. I noticed.”

He huffs out a breath that's almost a laugh, but not quite. “I didn’t mean to shut down. I didn’t even know what I was doing in the moment. I just— everything in me wanted to pull you close, and that’s when I realised I couldn’t keep doing this the way we were doing it. Not without losing my shit every time you left.”

Your throat feels tight, but you still ask, “So you decided to ghost me instead?”

That lands. His jaw flexes, and he nods once. “Yeah. I did. I thought if I gave it space, I could go back to being normal. Go back to just being your friend. But I couldn’t. I can’t.

“I don’t want to be just your friend anymore. Not because of the sex, not because it was good— which it was, but that’s not the point. It’s you. It’s always been you. I didn’t realise how much until I almost lost it completely.”

You swallow hard. Your arms are uncrossed now. Not folded in, not defensive — just hanging at your sides like you’re too stunned to remember what to do with them.

Jungkook steps in closer. Not touching you yet. But near enough that you can smell him — faint cologne, his laundry detergent, the scent you associate with your car windows fogging up.

“I missed you,” he says, and his voice turns softer. “Every day. And it scared the shit out of me, how badly I wanted to talk to you. Touch you. Just be around you. I wasn’t ready to admit it last week, and I was a coward for that. But I’m not running anymore.”

Silence again.

Except it doesn’t feel like the ones you’ve been drowning in for a week.

“I don’t know what you’re feeling,” he says, lower now, like the words might break if he’s too loud. “And I’m not assuming anything. But if you still want me around— really want me— just say the word. I’ll figure out the rest.”

You inhale slowly, try to even out your breathing, but your chest still feels like it’s barely holding together. Your heart’s doing that thing where it thuds too hard without speeding up.

You hate that you believe him. That you always would’ve. That no matter how angry you were, no matter how cold you tried to be when he walked in — you still wanted him to explain, to prove it wasn’t what your worst thoughts told you it was.

And now he has.

He’s standing in front of you with open hands, with the words you oh so desperately wanted to hear. And for a moment, you’re not sure what to do with that.

“I hate you,” you say quietly.

It’s not true. Not even close. But it’s the first thing that leaves your mouth.

Jungkook huffs out a dry laugh, eyes dropping to the floor. “Yeah,” he murmurs, nodding. “I figured.”

You shake your head once. “No. I mean it. I fucking hate you for this. For—” You break off, because your voice is shaking now. “For making me feel like I was crazy. For not even saying goodnight after… after everything.”

His face tightens, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“You could’ve just told me,” you go on. “You could’ve said it was too much. That it got weird. That you needed time. Anything. But you disappeared. And I had to sit here wondering if I made it all up."

You pause, pressing your lips together.

“And I— I missed you too, you know,” you add, quieter this time.

His mouth opens like he might speak, but no sound comes out at first. Instead, he closes the space between you by half, slow and steady, like he’s afraid of pushing too far.

“God, you’re such an asshole,” you whisper, but your tone isn't mean. Not even close.

He laughs, soft and low. “Yeah. I know.

“You promise me you’re sure? Cause Jungkook, I will fucking cut off your dick if you pull this shit again.”

He smiles but doesn’t hesitate. “I promise. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

You stare at him.

Long enough that the air between you stretches taut, thin as thread.

His hand twitches like he wants to reach for you but still doesn’t know if he’s allowed. His jaw flexes, his chest rising and falling in uneven swells. You can tell he’s waiting — for a sign, for a go-ahead, for you.

And even though part of you still wants to be mad, still wants to make him sweat just a little longer, the rest of you aches. For his mouth. For his hands. For the solid, grounding weight of him.

So you move.

You step into the last inch of space between you and grab the front of his hoodie. He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for a year, but you don’t give him a chance to say anything.

You kiss him.

Not out of impulse. Not for show. You kiss him because you need to. Because your chest feels like it’s going to split open if you don’t.

At first, it’s quiet. Just lips pressed to lips — careful, slow. There’s a pause between each pass of your mouth over his, like you’re both trying to remember how this started. How you even got here.

But then he sighs against you — not loud, not dramatic, just a sound full of relief — and it unravels something.

His hands lift, hesitating for only half a second before they settle on your waist, fingers curling tight. You press closer, and his lips part beneath yours. The angle shifts. Your nose bumps his cheek. It’s not perfect, but it’s real, and when your tongue brushes his, everything tilts.

The sweetness melts fast.

He makes a sound low in his throat and drags you in like the distance is unbearable. Your hands slide up into his hair, fingers threading through the strands at the base of his neck, and the way he reacts — the little shiver he tries to swallow — sends heat straight down your spine.

You kiss him harder.

His body crowds yours until your back meets the wall. Not rough, not rushed. Just firm. His chest presses to yours, and you can feel the way his heart races. How your own pulse kicks up to match it.

The kiss deepens, turns messy at the edges. His teeth catch your bottom lip and your breath stutters, but you don’t pull back. You tilt your chin, chasing more, and the next time he kisses you, it’s hungrier. One of his hands slips to the small of your back, palm dragging slow and warm beneath your shirt. The skin-to-skin contact makes your whole body twitch.

You gasp into his mouth, and he swallows the sound, his hands tightening. His other arm slips around your waist completely, pulling you flush against him, and suddenly you’re not thinking anymore. You’re just feeling.

The tension that’s been bottling up between you two — the silence, the week of wondering, the ache of missing him so much it hurt — it all floods to the surface.

You fist your hands in his hoodie, yanking him impossibly closer. Your hips shift forward, just enough to brush him, and the sound he makes is sharp and involuntary, caught between a breath and a groan.

“Fuck,” he mutters, barely pulling back. His forehead presses to yours, breath ragged. “You’re driving me insane.”

You huff, lips brushing his. “That’s fair.”

Then he kisses you again. Rougher this time. Desperate in a way that makes your knees go soft.

He doesn’t stay at your mouth for long. His lips trail down — your jaw, your cheek, the shell of your ear. His breath is hot and uneven, and when he finds your neck, your whole body reacts. Your hands clutch at him, your back arches off the wall, and the soft sound that escapes your throat isn’t one you mean to make.

He feels it. Hears it. Answers it with a low, reverent sound that seems to vibrate straight through you.

His tongue traces the spot beneath your ear, slow and deliberate, and your eyes flutter shut.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, your breath catching sharp in your throat. You pull back for a second before lowering your mouth to his neck, right where the collar of his hoodie dips. He lets out a small sound, hands flexing on your waist, when your lips press there.

You start slow. You can feel his pulse under your tongue, the way his chest rises against yours, unsteady and warm. Then you part your lips and suck gently at the spot just below his jaw. His whole body stutters, hips jerking against yours before he can stop it.

Your fingers trail down his chest, tugging his hoodie collar aside for better access. His head tips back, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted.

You do it again, this time with enough pressure to leave a mark, and the sound of your mouth working against his skin is lewd.

He groans. It’s low and rough and barely held back, and the sound shoots straight between your legs. You feel him hardening now, undeniable through the fabric where he’s pressed against you.

“All mine?” you whisper, your lips brushing over the new mark you’ve left.

He doesn’t even hesitate. “All yours.”

His voice is breathless. Wrecked. And so damn certain it knocks something loose in your chest.

You pull back just enough to look at him — really look. His pupils are blown, his lips swollen, a flush climbing high on his cheeks. He looks at you like he wants to devour you. Like he would if you let him.

“I missed that mouth,” he mutters, hands gliding under your shirt again, palms broad and warm. “Missed everything.”

You kiss his throat in reply and drag your teeth across it until he swears under his breath.

His hips grind against you again, harder this time. You both feel it — the friction, the heat building between your bodies.

His arms shift beneath you and he lifts you clean off the ground in one smooth motion, hands strong under your thighs. A startled sound escapes your throat as your legs wrap around his waist on instinct, gripping him tight.

“Fuck,” he mutters again, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “I want you so bad it’s actually stupid.”

You smile, drunk on the feel of him.

“Bedroom?” you murmur, tracing your lips over the new mark blooming against his skin.

He hums lowly, and shifts his grip on your thighs.

He carries you through the hallway and your lips never leave his skin for more than a second.

When he reaches your bedroom, he doesn’t hesitate. He steps inside and drops you onto the mattress in one fluid movement.

You barely get your bearings before he’s crawling over you, slotting his body between your legs, His mouth finds yours again, and you moan into it before you can stop yourself when his knee presses between your legs.

Your hips twitch, grinding down against the pressure, and he groans in response, the sound vibrating through your chest as his mouth moves with yours. His hand slips under your shirt again, this time bolder, fingers spanning across your ribs and inching higher until his knuckles brush the curve of your breast.

You gasp softly, and he pulls back just enough to murmur, “Off.”

You sit up just enough to grab the hem of your shirt, tugging it over your head in one smooth pull, your hair mussed from the friction. He watches the fabric fall to the floor, then looks at you.

“You’re so fucking pretty," he breathes.

You roll your eyes automatically, even though your face is already burning. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious,” he says, and his voice drops low. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

His lips part and he kisses along your sternum — slow, wet presses of his mouth that trail up and then out, over the swell of one breast, then the other.

You inhale sharply when his mouth grazes the sensitive skin beside your nipple, and his eyes flick up at the sound, pupils blown. He kisses lower, then higher again, murmuring against your skin, “Can’t believe I went a week without this.”

The vibration of his voice right against your skin makes you arch, and he meets you halfway, grinding down slow and deliberate, like he knows exactly what you’re chasing and wants to stretch it out just to watch you squirm.

Your hands curl into his shoulders, nails biting down just enough to make him grunt softly into your skin. He rolls his hips again, slow and heavy, and the pressure against your core has your breath catching in your throat.

“Koo,” you whine out.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, lips pink and wet, hair falling into his eyes. He grins, crooked and hot and deeply pleased with himself.

“Yeah, baby?” he asks, and his voice is pure sin.

You glare, but your thighs shift open under him anyway.

“Please.”

He hums, satisfied, and starts working his way lower. Every kiss is wet and unhurried. Down your chest, across your stomach. His hands follow, smoothing over your ribs, down to your hips, dragging the waistband of your pants just slightly with them. His thumbs hook in the fabric, pausing right above your pelvis.

He looks up at you, smug and dark-eyed.

“Gonna let me take these off?”

He's so annoying you're gonna kill him. “Do I look like I’m stopping you?”

“No,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss just below your navel, “but I like hearing you say it.”

You huff, fingers threading into his hair again. “Take them off, Kook.”

He eases them down slowly — too slowly — dragging the fabric down your legs while his mouth follows in a path of heat and pressure. He kisses your hipbone, your inner thigh, every patch of skin he uncovers like it’s something sacred. When your panties go next, he makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat — more reverent than smug this time.

You’re already wet, already aching, and from the way his eyes flicker as he takes you in, he fucking knows it.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “You’re soaked. You missed me that much?”

You exhale hard, cheeks hot. “Shut up and do something about it.”

He grins again, slower this time. “Anything you want.”

His hands grip your thighs and spread them further apart, and before you can say another word, his mouth is on you.

The first swipe of his tongue is long, and delibirate. You jerk at the contact, a broken sound slipping from your lips, and he groans like he’s the one falling apart. His hands tighten on your hips, holding you in place, and does it again.

Every movement of his tongue is practiced and precise. He starts slow, almost gentle, licking through your folds with a kind of focus that makes your head spin. Your thighs threaten to close around his head, but he pushes them apart with ease, never breaking rhythm.

Your hands move to the back of his head, gripping tight. His tongue circles your clit once, then again, and the third time he sucks it between his lips. You try to stifle a moan, but it slips from your lips anyway.

He pulls back just enough to speak, breath hot on your skin.

“Keep making those sounds, baby,” he murmurs, voice wrecked. “Wanna hear every fucking thing I do to you.”

He movements turn faster, his mouth messy and hot and relentless. You’re already close, the build-up sharp and climbing, and he can feel it. One of his hands slips lower, spreading you open further with his thumb, and his tongue drags in tighter circles.

You’re writhing, panting, toes curling into the sheets. Your fingers tug at his hair, your spine arching off the bed.

“Fuck— Kook—” you gasp, head thrown back.

He groans again, the sound vibrating straight through your pussy. He doubles down, mouth moving faster, and when your hips start to stutter, erratic and desperate, he presses his hand over your stomach, grounding you.

“You’re gonna come for me?” he murmurs against you, mouth slick with you. “Gonna let me taste it?”

You nod frantically, unable to speak, your whole body wound tight and ready to snap.

He presses his mouth against you again, lips sucking against your clit, and the feeling has you squirming with pleasure.

“Kook—” your voice breaks open as you come hard against his mouth.

He moans, but his movements don't stop.

Your body arches helplessly, heels digging into the bed, one hand fisted in the sheets, the other still tangled in his hair as you ride out the wave. You’re gasping, blinking hard, your heart trying to punch through your ribs.

Only when your legs start to tremble uncontrollably does he finally pull back.

His lips are slick and swollen, jaw damp, hair messy from where you’ve been gripping it. And he looks wrecked — eyes heavy-lidded, pupils blown wide, like just being between your thighs has undone something in him.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then drags his lips slowly up your inner thigh, leaving lazy kisses in his wake.

You’re still catching your breath, staring at the ceiling like your soul just left your body, when he plants a final kiss on the inside of your knee and murmurs, “Yeah. I’m never ghosting you again.”

You let out a breathless laugh, too blissed out to be mad. “You better not.”

“After that?” he says, crawling back up your body, slow and unhurried. “I’d be clinically insane.”

He settles over you again, pressing a warm, open-mouthed kiss to your stomach, then another between your breasts, then finally your mouth. You taste yourself on his tongue, and when he groans against your lips, it sends a fresh jolt of heat straight through you.

His body is flush against yours, his clothed cock thick and heavy where it presses against your thigh. You let your hands trail down his chest slowly to tug at the denim loops of his jeans.

"Want these off," you mumble against his lips.

He smiles and presses one last kiss to your mouth before he leans back onto his knees. His hands go to his belt, and you watch the way his fingers fumble for just a second.

He gets the buckle undone, then the zipper, the sound louder than it should be in your quiet bedroom. You watch as he shucks them down, boxers and all, and your breath catches slightly at the sight of him — flushed and hard and achingly ready.

“Better?” he asks, voice low.

You nod, breath shallow, and he’s already crawling back over you. The heat of him sinks into your skin as his body settles between your thighs, bare now.

Your legs part without hesitation.

His weight, the press of his chest to yours, the familiar scent of him wrapped in something raw and new — it all hits at once, and your whole body shivers.

He’s warm everywhere. The kind of warmth that soaks into your bones and makes you ache for more.

His hands slide along your arms until they find yours where they’re resting above your head. He threads his fingers through yours and presses them gently into the pillow, pinning you there. His eyes search yours, and you feel the first brush of him between your legs, just the tip, teasing the edge of you.

He doesn’t move yet. Just rests there, eyes locked on yours.

“You okay?” he murmurs, voice low and thick, like he’s hanging on by a thread.

You don’t answer — not with words. You just tilt your hips up, welcoming him in with nothing but a look.

He pushes in slow — painfully slow — each inch dragging fire across your nerves as your body stretches to take him. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp, your fingers clenching around his. When he’s fully buried inside you, he stills completely.

“Fuck,” he breathes, forehead dropping to yours. “You feel… unreal.”

You can’t speak — your body’s too full, too wrecked already — so you kiss him instead. Slow and sweet and a little desperate. Your hips rock up, seeking more.

He groans into your mouth, finally starting to move, and every thrust is so fucking deep. It’s not rushed or frantic. It’s him savouring you, like he wants to remember how this feels with every part of himself.

His hands stay tight around yours, anchoring you both to the bed, to each other.

The rhythm builds, a slow burn that spreads everywhere, and between kisses you catch the way he looks at you — like he’s seeing something he’s afraid to lose. Like there’s something he wants to say but can’t yet.

“You were supposed to beg,” you manage to murmur against his mouth, breathless. “Grovel a little.”

That crooked smile curls against your lips. “My bad, baby,” he murmurs. “You can make me beg next time.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re gonna regret that.”

He shifts his hips, thrusting deeper, and your breath leaves you in a ragged gasp.

“You promise?”

The challenge in his voice is smug, but his eyes are dark and glassy, his control hanging by a thread. You whimper in response, thighs tightening around his waist, and he dips his head to your throat, dragging his lips along your pulse like it’s the only thing tethering him to earth.

He starts to move with more purpose now, making you feel every second of it. His cock grinds into that spot that makes your vision blur, and your whole body tenses, fingers squeezing his like a lifeline.

The moan you let out is shameless, high and wrecked, when he tilts his hips just right — again and again, like he’s carving his name into your body from the inside.

“Right there?” he murmurs, already knowing. His hand slips between your bodies, thumb finding your clit with the kind of confidence that only comes from knowing you — every reaction, every sound. “God, you’re so fucking wet. You always get like this for me?”

“Koo—” His name slips out broken, a warning and a plea wrapped in one.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, voice ragged, forehead pressed to yours. His thrusts get rougher now, faster, the rhythm losing polish but gaining intensity. “Let me have you, baby. Come again for me.”

The words send a bolt of heat straight to your core, your whole body winding tight. His mouth crashes against yours before you can respond, tongue tangling with yours, greedy and open and honest in all the ways his words still aren’t.

When he pulls back, he’s panting, “You feel like heaven, fuck.”

You can’t even process it — not now, not when his rhythm stutters and his hips slam harder, each thrust jolting a cry from your throat. Your legs are trembling, your grip bruising where it clings to him, and you can feel the knot in your stomach tighening.

“That’s it,” he groans, watching your face like it’s the only thing that matters. “Let go for me. Let me feel you.”

You bury your face in his shoulder, teeth catching on his skin as your orgasm crashes over you. Your body locks up, thighs clenching, and you cry out his name. His hand squeezes yours back, holding you through it.

Your walls grip him tight, and he groans loud against your skin, hips faltering. “Fuck— shit—”

He thrusts once more before spilling into you with a broken sound, voice rasping your name like a prayer.

His whole body shudders as he comes, arms locked tight around you like he needs you to stay exactly where you are — here, under him, around him, real. His forehead drops to your shoulder, damp curls brushing your skin as he exhales, long and shaky.

Neither of you move right away. The air between you is thick with heat and breath and a comforting silence.

Eventually though, he shifts just enough to press a kiss to your collarbone. Then another, softer.

His hand slides along your waist, fingertips brushing lazy patterns into your skin. You hum under your breath — not a word, just a sound — and he responds by kissing your shoulder again.

Your legs are still tangled together. His body still half-draped over yours. There’s a mess between your thighs and sweat clinging to your skin, and you should probably say something, anything — but there’s something sweet about the silence now. It’s soft. Unspoken. Peaceful, in a weirdly intimate way.

He shifts again, easing out of you with a quiet groan, and you wince a little at the loss.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, running a hand gently over your thigh like an apology.

“It’s fine,” you breathe, eyes closed, chest still rising and falling too fast.

He doesn’t go far. Just rolls to the side, still close enough that his leg stays pressed against yours, and reaches for the blanket to pull it up over you both. He tugs you into his chest like second nature, burying his nose in your hair, his hand stroking absently up and down your arm.

“You good?” he asks softly, lips brushing your temple.

“Yeah,” you say, quieter now. “You?”

He pauses. Then he nods against your skin. “Yeah. More than.”

You lay there like that for a while, heartbeats evening out. He’s still drawing shapes on your skin — fingertips slow, mindless — and you smile to yourself, warmth blooming low in your stomach.

“So,” you murmur eventually, voice still hoarse. “What now? We high-five and call it a night?”

He huffs a laugh into your hair. “I mean, I wouldn’t say no to a high-five.”

You laugh, nudging him with your shoulder. “Cocky.”

“Confident,” he corrects, grinning. “But really—” He shifts a little so he can see your face, one hand reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “If we’re doing this, I wanna do it right.”

You blink, caught off-guard by the sudden sincerity in his voice. “Do what right?”

He raises an eyebrow, like it should be obvious. “Us.”

There’s a pause. You look at him, and he looks at you, and it’s terrifying and sweet all at once.

“I really like you,” he says, quieter this time. “And I’m not just saying that because I just got laid.” He cracks a small smile. “Though, to be fair, that was mind-blowing.”

You snort. “So humble.”

“I’m serious,” he says, nudging your nose with his. “I’ll take you out. I’ll plan dumb dates. I’ll be obnoxiously charming and show up with flowers. I’ll be— like— a gentleman, or whatever.”

You give him a look. “You should’ve done all that before you fucked me.”

His grin spreads. “Yeah, well. Guess I got the order wrong. You gonna hold that against me?”

“Maybe,” you say, lips twitching.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he says, fingers brushing your cheek. “You’ll see. I’ll be so romantic it’ll make you want to punch me.”

“I already want to punch you.”

“And yet,” he says smugly, pulling you closer, “you’re still in my bed.”

“This is my bed, dumbass.”

He pauses. “Okay, fair. But I am naked in it. With you.”

You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face won’t go away. His arm tightens around your waist, and you let yourself relax into it — into him. For once, it doesn’t feel like something to second-guess.

He kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth.

You tuck your face into his neck and sigh. “You better bring the good flowers. Like the ones that don’t die in two days.”

“Oh, so now you’re picky?”

“You said dates and flowers. I’m holding you to it.”

“Noted,” he says, fingers threading into your hair. “I’m gonna be so disgustingly good to you.”

You laugh softly into his skin.

And he just holds you tighter.

⌗ masterlist. ⌗ taglist. ⌗ feedback

[astramortus]

a bit late, but still. I really like this study and explanation + awesome sketches🤲🏼

I keep Wittebanerotting (it’s almost 4 years…) and so. I just found these materials (especially the last screenshot) and suddenly felt an urge to once again mention that BASTARD POOKIE BABY GIRL is absolutely genius.

No cap, he is the greatest scientist of his time (even if with we say that the Collector helped him somehow) and it’s a shame how the final ep just turned him into a piss goo

What i want to point out here: a 17th century witch hunter from a puritan colony invented (possibly) and implemented a f@cking POWER PLANT INTO A MAGICAL WORLD

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking on what the Titan’s heart could possibly do and why we have such emphasis on it in some scenes.

But thanks to @nerdykorgi I realized that most probably all these pipes around the castle (and including the lab with grimwalkers — the Heart/bile-sack was probably pumping some energy flows into the “graves”) are sort of pipelines for “the plant” (the Titan’s heart/bile sack, whatever).

But why would he possibly need so much of energy? We see that the portal doesn’t work without the Titan’s blood

and as for creation of the grimwalkers it still seems to be a bit too much of energy

+ we have a scene, where the castle smokestack (idk) emits fire. So Philip was burning something down (witches?)

+ at the very first appearance of Belos we saw that he is somehow interlinked with the Heart

At some point i had a theory that the Heart/bilesack grants Philip magic

It seems to be logical if we say that artificial red magic feeds on external power source = the running Heart generates this power

Yet still it feels like a bit too much effort with all these pipes (and that’s where we once again fall into plot-holes)

My guess is that:

a) something was simply cut off because of time limitations. Maybe Philip was planning to use all this energy to open the portal without the Titan’s blood and bullshitting Luz

b) it was simply built for the Draining spell and that’s it. Makes sense if we say that the Heart can consume magic within during the spell

c) ‘oh no, look what capitalism and industrialization did to our perfect magical world!’ – twist.

Overall, the pipes in the castle aren’t exactly subtle. They do draw our attention for a reason (as for the covens, well, who would question the emperor, right?).

But it’s just funny how the 17th century jerk just manipulates with all of this stuff and eventually “forgets that he can corrupt the Heart to cleanse that place from evil”

GRIMWALKER BIOLOGY & ANATOMY STUDIES [pt 1 / ?? ]

(aka, my ideas and thoughts on how these bad but sad boys work!)

with pictures :D !

ok for starters! I tried my best to make real life connections with actual biological stuff and yeah but there are some things ima have to bullshit lol

i hope yall like rambling

[ ^ Basic ideas ]

Lets talk about anatomy!

From what i can tell from the grim walker ingredient book they have some pretty ... interesting ingredients...

GALDORSTONE:

Heart and Power apparently. What i can make of this is that the Galderstone not only powers and animates the non-organic materials but acts as a circulatory system, flowing blood and nutrients to keep the body stable by creating magical pulses of pressure that makes the blood flow. Blood is kind of ideal for homeostasis and living and om pretty sure we've seen hunter bleed at least once... Perhaps the Galderston can create an artificial vascular system to carry oxygen, magic, and nutrients throughout the growing body instead of just making veins from scratch. I want to say the Galderstone can generate energy for the grimwalker but that would mean they wouldn't need to eat, and I don't think that's true. I think its main purpose is just activate the magic materials and is like the generator to a car, keeping it running. If the Galderstone were to break or fail, the grimwalker probably come unglued and fall apart to its components (which would be pretty horrifying)

ORTET BONE:

Very key component! The ortet bone kind of helps form the blueprint for the species of the grimwalker, as well as supplying blood, a skeletal system, and components of DNA. The most basic definition of the word ORTET is as follows: the original plant from which the members of a clone have descended. Fun fact: since were using cloning terms, Hunter is to Caleb as Ramet is to Ortet (Ramet is an individual clone) I did research for cloning and as it turns out you kinda need a complete genome for cloning but for bullshitting reasons (which will be explained) we can clone with incomplete DNA and make synthetic dna from scratch! I hypothesis that the reason grims can look different from the ortet instead of just straight carbon copies is due to the bone that is used and how much of i there is. Like example a grimwalker made using just a toe phalange is going to look A LOT less like the ortet compared to a grimwalker made from something like the cranium and bigger bones and such. Basically smaller bones dont carry as much dna info and leads for room to fill in the blanks. Sadly this means alot of Grimwalkers had A LOT of health problems (this can range anywhere from immune system problems to liver failure which is quiet typical in clones, that and it is often that clones appear different from the ortet due to enviromental factors and influences)

[ As the image above shows, subject #103 has a very close resemblance to the ortet due to the bones that are used ] There are pros and cons to using bones! Pros being that they can hold DNA for much longer than tissue, but the thing is bones can degrade really easy if not preserved, and i don't think belos had a bottle of hydrogen peroxide laying around that he could dunk Caleb in, so let's just assume he made sure his brother's corpse was well cleaned and kept. Biggest con is the human body only has so many bones (about 206) I believe that the reason Grimwalker can generate organs is by using the ortet and making the stem cells created from bone marrow. Stem cells are very important because they can turn into different types of cells like blood and tissue cells as well as repair tissue. I believe the process of growing grimwalkers is kind of like "Self-renewal" the process in which stem cells divide and make more of the body

STONESLEEPER LUNGS:

Im just gonna assume stone sleeper had very small lungs because aint no way those t rex lungs fit in a teenage boy. I originally thought The reason that Grimwalkers can stay underground for so long is because the lungs, similar to how a stonesleeper hibernates for centuries (kind of like how wood frogs can basically cryo-hibernate) by petrifying but a grimwalker IS growing and therefore needs resources to grow, like how a baby does in the womb. So it has to be actively getting said resources so it cant be petrified. I now think the reason that grimwalkers have these lungs is because theyre easily compatible to the galderstone, which needs oxygen for the blood and that they can be easily harvested and stored in stone form. But that does give room for cool adaptations like self-petrification! (which i will get into next time :D )

PALISTROM WOOD:

Ok its says that the wood is used for keratin, which is a fiberous protein which can make all kinds of things like scales, hair, nails, feathers, horns, claws, hooves, and skin! And since its also a plant means it can grow 4 times as fast as normal keratin can! This explains why hunters hair grew so ridiculously fast in season 3, was because his hair can produce its own carbohydrates and nutrients on its own... This means his skin and surface wounds can heal quite fast! (down side is it might give him something similar to PSS (Peeling Skin Syndrome ) ...) I think Palisman is very important becasue of several reason! 1 Like palisman, it can "animate" if you will, more or less help pull off the illusion that he is alive. 2 Like mentioned before, Grimwalkers need nutrients to grow and I believe the palistrom wood aids in that! Using a process called cellular diffusion, the grimwalker can take in nutrients from the ground around them (which i theorize to be highly fertilized) through THEIR SKIN! and into the veins and flesh of the grims 3 I believe that in the process of forming, the galderstone "activates" the palistrom wood, forming into skin or hair but this process of rapid growth leaves the skin all undone and fragile because a proper cutaneous barrier was not formed yet (which is useful for being malleable. This is why Hunter's ears are so 1 .god blessed big because they are fake and molded to look like that. Its also why The grimwalker Belos possessed fell apart so easily, like he said "It wasnt ready")

SELKIEDOMUS SCALES:

This one kind of confused me because... well why do we need the seal flesh when the ortet can just regenerate it?? I think its kind of like the stuffing if you will, it also speeds up the process of producing flesh by a lot! Especially if you want to make grown grimwalkers! Im thinking that Grimwalkers don't have a set "age" theyre just as big as however many materials they are given to work with. Even though the book says they can start as babies, if you look closely there is a check mark towards the more adolescent figure, so im thinking that they are not ready to be unearthed until they reach a certain growth ima guess around the age of over 10-ish?? We don't know how young Hunter was pulled out of the floor but it seems like he was fairly young, or atleast younger. This means while Hunter appears to be 16, he might have only been living for around 5 years or so.

Now typically normal seals have a lot of blubber which is a thick layer of fat, also called adipose tissue, directly under the skin of a marine mammals. Its used for insulation. The thing is tho, it says Selkiedomus Scales, not flesh... Dont worry there are mammals that have scales like Pangolins but i dont know if these scales are like thick plated or small and stretchy. Magic bullshitting time, Im goin to assume Selkiedomus scales refers to a layer of scale-like flesh that protect the creature from boiling but is also highly malleable and easy to work with. Maybe the reason they can withstand such heat is due to unsaturated bonds of butadiene molecules mixed into the blubber that are highly heat resistant Selkie domus flesh is molded and into the relative shape of desired body and using the DNA of the ortet the flesh is reshaped and reused into the desired muscles shapes. The vascular system created by the galderstone spreads throughout the flesh and binds with it. healing together and becoming flesh, kind of like a speed up version of skin graft maturation! This is useful for growing them quickly because they don't have to grow an entire adult body from scratch so this speed up the process by eeeerrm 20 years or so lol

Thats only the basics for now, sooner or later i shall get into the more fun stuff, like adaptaions of Grim walker, the growing process, ad more!

Hope you guys enjoyed my ideas, if i got anything incorrect let me know, my research isnt exremly searched through.

last question ill leave you all with, it kind of stumped me while i was working...

i have a theory but i wanna know your thoughts...

(i worked hard on all this btw, i really hope people read it lol /lh.)

[woozisprincess]

Looking In

Your two closest friends, who are also your otp, are more comfortable around you than anyone else. Like they're really comfortable. Probably too comfortable.

Scoups x Fem!Reader x Woozi

6.4k

Poly fic, fluff, friends to lovers, dense reader, super suggestive, Seungcheol thot activity, CheolHoon argue a lot but it's all in good faith, made Seungcheol really pouty because I like, Jihoon tries to be normal, Vernon listens to your CheolHoon problems, lmk if anything else

--------------------------⊙⁠.⁠☉----------------------------

Whenever Jihoon and Seungcheol were around, you always felt like you were witnessing something that you shouldn't. Moments between them that in no way were intended for the public eye. And for whatever fucking reason, they only seemed to act this away around you. During a group hangout, when the three of you were the first to arrive, it almost felt like you yourself were in the relationship. They giggled and smiled at each other like they shared a secret no one else knew, and then they'd look at you like you were also privy to that secret. You were not. And then as more of your friends filed in, they'd go back to acting how they normally did around people. Still cute, still in love, just much less intimate.

And this has happened multiple times, mind you. Whenever you had the pleasure of third wheeling them for the day, or when you'd stop by Jihoon's place to binge anime while Seungcheol lurked around. It was insane. You felt insane. At first you had fully convinced yourself that you were imagining things, but as time went on, it was clear that it was very real, and that you were the only one experiencing this.

The lovers were undeniably your otp, seeing as you had been rooting for them since Jihoon first let it slip to you that he had a massive crush on Seungcheol. He was all nervous and flustered, made you promise to not say anything. You couldn't help but laugh at how adorable he was being. Did he really not see how Seungcheol looked at him? Truthfully, you're the only reason they're even together. Jihoon was in complete denial that Seungcheol could possibly like him, and Seungcheol couldn't read through Jihoon's Tsundere tendencies for shit. So through meticulous planning, and months of egging the two of them on, they finally confessed to one another. So yeah, you happily take credit.

You assume that's why they're so… comfortable… around you. You really can't find another explanation. You'd always been pretty close to both of them as well, so that's definitely gotta be a part of it. It's just so odd to you.

Well, at least it was odd to you. It's been a year since it all started, and you've grown quite used to their behavior. In fact, you'd even say that you enjoy the special treatment. The way Seungcheol reaches to hold your hand in crowded spaces the same way he does for Jihoon, when Jihoon pulls you as close as he possibly can during movie nights, how they both call you their girl. You don’t think you've even thought about getting a boyfriend since all this started, you really didn't need one when you basically had two. That's why as you sat at your favorite brunch spot with them, you were completely unphased by… whatever they were doing.

You looked at your menu, unsure of what to get this time around. You told yourself that you'd order something different today, but your eyes kept drifting to the Very Berry French Toast that you always ordered.

“What do I even get?” You were mostly talking to yourself, but Seungcheol chimed in anyway.

“I don't know…” He feigned genuine thought as he glanced at his menu. “Maybe we should just order this.” His hand grabbed Jihoon's face, pinching his cheek.

First of all, we is insane, but okay.

Jihoon rolled his eyes, but the flush creeping up his face betrayed him. “You cannot do this every time we eat, the joke is dead.”

“Who said I was joking?” Seungcheol raised his brow.

“Do not-” you closed your menu having decided on your meal. “-start this here, Seungcheol. People are trying to eat.” You were getting the Very Berry French Toast.

“Yeah me too-”

“Shut the fuck up.” Jihoon cut off the large man. “Can I please! Just enjoy brunch in peace?”

Seungcheol looked around, once again pretending to think about his answer.

“Maybe… if you give me a kiss.” Seungcheol looked at him smug.

You had no clue how Jihoon did it. Seungcheol was a Leo man. A LEO MAN. But then again, you probably entertained Seungcheol's antics the most.

Jihoon pretended to die, slumping over in his seat and making a cartoonish ‘bleh’ sound. He stayed like that for an entire ten seconds before sitting back up, scowling at Seungcheol, and quickly pecking his lips. Seungcheol hummed triumphantly, fully aware that that was the most he was gonna get in a public setting.

You see, Jihoon would've never done even that if anybody else was sitting across from them. PDA was not his thing at all. But for whatever reason, he could not care less in your presence.

You watched as Jihoon fixed his Jacket after it had fallen from his shoulders due to his award winning death scene. You were actually pretty sure it was Seungcheol’s, a new one of his too. Jihoon sure worked fast.

Soon your waitress arrived to take your orders, quickly jotting down the three meals before scurrying off. As you all waited, you continued with your mindless chatter. Jihoon and Seungcheol held hands over the table and you were very unsurprised when Jihoon eventually reached across to grab your hand as well. You happily took it, you'd have to be insane to turn down Lee Jihoon's open and willing affections, regardless of how peculiar it was. You watched as his eyes lit up just a little bit brighter as he continued to yap about the anime the two of you had finished the night prior.

When the food arrived, they shared with each other, as couples liked to do, and then they shared with you, as they liked to do. You also shared your treasured Very Berry in return. You honestly liked this arrangement, it meant that you could have different meals and still order your tooth rotting breakfast food. A bit of Seungcheol's Hearty beef sandwich, some of Jihoon's healthy chicken salad, all together it balanced out your meal perfectly.

_

“Maybe you're their third person?”

“Their what?”

You sat on your couch with Vernon as the two of you talked about your mornings, a movie playing on the TV that you've only half paid attention to. Vernon is the only person you've told about your relationship with the couple. He's rational and can keep a secret, making him the best person to vent to when you first thought you were losing your mind. You never point out their behavior anymore, incredibly desensitized to it all, but upon hearing that you had brunch with them, the Aquarius man thought of a new theory.

“Third person,” Vernon said simply.

You blinked at him.

“Please elaborate.”

“Well…” he swayed side to side in thought. “Some couples just have a person they're really attached to, and like to do everything with. Kind of like a pet.”

“A pet?” You squinted. “That's super comforting, thanks, Non.” You muttered sarcastically.

“No problem.”

You never knew if he genuinely didn't understand your sarcasm or if he just didn't care. Either way, it pisses you off.

Obviously, the next logical step was to launch a couch pillow at him. He yelped upon impact and immediately did the same to you.

And so it begins.

Your living room was a wreck by the time you were done assaulting each other with pillows. You knocked over a ton of trinkets, busted one of the pillows, and possibly broke something- something fell off of a shelf with a ‘crack’ but you paid it no mind. You had collapsed on the couch while Vernon found refuge on the floor. You both laughed as you shot stupid insults at each other.

At some point you heard your phone ring, you promptly ignored it after realizing that you had left it on the kitchen counter, and were unwilling to get it. But then it rang again, and then you got a few text notifications. So you begrudgingly got up from the soft cushions of your sofa, and trudged to the kitchen.

Missed call from Leo Man 🤨

Missed call from Baby Boy 🫧

Text from Leo Man 🤨

Hey, cupcake!

Baby and I were going to the mall and you said something earlier about needing new shoes so we thought to invite you! 😍

Lmk wassup!

Text from Baby Boy 🫧

Mall

We'll be outside in 10mins

You sighed. Oh your sweet boys.

You did need new shoes, so you decided to take them up on the offer, though Jihoon didn't seem to be giving you a choice. You let Vernon know what was going on and when you left he showed no signs of actually leaving himself. Strange man.

Just as Jihoon said, the couple was outside in ten minutes. You opened the door and slid into the backseat of Seungcheol's bright red truck.

“You miss us?” Seungcheol mused as he put the car in drive.

“It's been five hours, Cheol.” You deadpanned, strapping your seatbelt.

“So?” The man glanced at you, offended, through the rearview mirror. “We missed you!”

“You know, if you keep acting like this you'll scare her off.” Jihoon furrowed his brows.

“What!? No!” Seungcheol sputtered in disbelief. “I don't scare you, right, cupcake?” He glanced at you in the rearview once again, awful concerned about his boyfriend's comment.

Was Choi Seungcheol big and intimidating? Yes. And he could be down right terrifying if you got on his bad side. But to you? Nah. Big softy. A teddy bear even.

You chuckled at his wide eyes. “No, Cheol. You're bout’ as scary as a puppy.”

“Well that's not…” Seungcheol bit his lip in consideration. “I'm intimidating sometimes.”

“You are so picky.” Jihoon laughed at him.

“Okay but you love me!”

“Ehhh.”

Seungcheol scowled. “Well, ____ loves me!”

“You like, strictly complain around her, so think again.” Jihoon muses.

And now Seungcheol was full blown pouting, his plump, rosy lips jutting out in distaste. Very upset that no one loves him. This wasn't true.

He knew this wasn't true. He pouted anyways.

“Jihoon, ease up, I need him to carry my shit.” You repressed your own laughs to maintain the peace.

“I'll gladly carry your things, cupcake.” Seungcheol stated, still frowning. “Jihoon will have to fend for himself.” He'd turn his head if he weren't focused on the road.

“I'm not buying anything???” Jihoon continued his teasing. “Plus, we all know you'd still carry my stuff anyways.”

Sometimes you forgot how much of a fucking brat Jihoon could be around you and Seungcheol. The man was always so cool tempered and quiet around the masses, but when it was just the three of you, he'd leap at the chance to make Seungcheol pout. Sadism.

“I'm not gonna buy you the new Maple Story packs.”

Jihoon gasped and promptly shut the fuck up. Seungcheol smiled in triumph. He's had a lot of victories today. Unbelievable.

You couldn't help but cackle at their bickering. They've only been together for a few months longer than a year, yet they argued like an old married couple. You sighed as the mall finally came into view.

-

“Oh my god, why's he pouting now?” You just came back from the bathroom to find that Seungcheol is, once again, upset about something.

Jihoon pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I called him Choi Seungcheol.” he mutters.

You blinked. “Ji… you know better than that.”

“It wasn't even on purpose!”

“Cheol, see? It wasn't on purpose.” You tried to mediate.

“Nah, he said it as revenge for threatening to not buy him new fortnight skins.”

“Why-” No. Nope. It didn't matter. Y'all weren't going anywhere unless this was solved. “Jihoon, kiss him!”

“What, why!?”

“It's the easiest way to make him feel better.”

“You kiss him then!”

You looked at the pale man, appalled. “He's your boyfriend!”

“And? I'm sure he'll be plenty happy if you kissed him.”

“I-” You blinked rapidly at the couple. “-I don't have time for this.”

So you approached Seungcheol, grabbed his face, and planted a big, fat kiss on his cheek. When you pulled away, you saw that your lipstick had smudged, leaving a shotty print of your pursed lips on his cheekbone.

Jihoon leaned over to see, clicking his tongue and muttering a ‘Nice.’

A sheepish smile slowly grew on Seungcheol's face as you let go of him. He held his cheek as he suggested you all grabbed something to eat. Fucking Leo's, man.

As the three of you sat to eat in the food court, Seungcheol still hadn't bothered wiping his face, so you did it for him. He complained as you used a napkin to rub away the lipstick, saying that it was proof that you loved him.

“You don't need proof when I'm sitting right here, dumbass.” You mumbled it mindlessly as you finished with your efforts.

You hadn't noticed that both Jihoon and Seungcheol were staring at you, so when pulled back, your eyes darted between the two, confused.

“What?” You raised a brow at them. “Is there something on my face too?” You joked.

Jihoon blinked at you before locking in on his food. “No, you're good.”

Seungcheol just gave you a giddy ass smile as he went to eat his own food.

Okay then…

-

You dozed off on the car ride home, only hearing the couple's soft murmurs over the even quieter radio every now and then.

“She's asleep.” Jihoon whispered as he watched over your still figure in the backseat.

Seungcheol hummed in response. “I'm not surprised. We dragged her out twice today.” He chuckled.

“Yeah…” Jihoon's gaze lingered a little longer before turning to sit properly. “So nice of her to come out. Even with all your pouting.” Jihoon couldn't help the jab that escaped from him so naturally.

“Even with all your nagging.” Seungcheol fired back.

Their hushed laughs flowed throughout the truck, much too gentle for the vehicle’s garish appearance.

“Ugh, what're we gonna do?” Jihoon sighed, covering his face with his hands. “She was so cute when she kissed you.”

Seungcheol agreed as he resisted the urge to feel his cheek where the phantom kiss lingered. “And what she said in the food court…” He recounted.

“Oh my goooodddddd” Jihoon whisper screamed. “Shut up, I thought I was hearing things.” He scrunched his face.

“No, she said that.” Seungcheol confirmed.

In his peripheral vision, Seungcheol saw his boyfriend's cheeks puff out to hold his breath, most likely trying to keep from screaming. And they called him the dramatic one.

Seungcheol smiled as he reached over to grab his lover's hand. Even if it all really meant nothing, he was just happy that you were around.

You don't need proof when I'm sitting right here.

Yeah, he was gonna hold onto that for the next forever.

When the car pulled up in front of your apartment building, Jihoon once again maneuvered his body to look at you. “Cupid, you're back home.” He spoke a bit louder than he had previously been.

The couple watched you stir at the call of your name, fully sitting up when Jihoon patted your knee.

“Shit…” You mumbled, blinking the sleep from your eyes. You looked out the window to find that you were, in fact, at home. “Okay.” You yawned.

You undid your seatbelt and then attempted to stretch your arms in the cramped space.

The lovers felt like they were watching a cat wakeup. Slow blinks, quiet yawns, big stretches. It made them feel all fuzzy inside.

You grabbed the paper bag with your shoes, as well as a different bag with a top Seungcheol had bought for you as well. You swung open the car door and shuffled outside. You then stepped over to Jihoon's door, peeking through his already open window. Like clockwork, you grabbed his hand, bringing it to your lips as you've done a million times before. Then you quickly reached for Seungcheol's hand, knowing damn well he'd have a fit if you didn't. He wouldn't be concerned at all with how you were kissing on his boyfriend, more concerned about getting his turn. You couldn't fully reach to kiss him, so you gave his hand a good squeeze.

“Goodnight, boys.” You mumble with a tired smile.

“You have work in the morning?” Seungcheol inquired. You hummed. “I'll pick you up, okay?”

“Mmmkay.” You agreed.

“Night, Cupid.” Jihoon mumbled, leaning back in his seat, also clearly tired from the day. His droopy eyes gave you a cuteness aggression fit that took the will of thousands to not act on in that moment.

With a bit of reluctance, Seungcheol let go of your hand, allowing you to wander off and take refuge in your home. He looked at his boyfriend and they shared a knowing look. Really… What were they gonna do?

-

You were back to thinking that maybe you were going insane. You had barged into Jihoon's apartment, ready for another anime binge, and when you entered the living area, you witnessed Jihoon essentially pry Seungcheol off of him upon hearing your footsteps. That was normal. Seungcheol, of course, was never the kind to give in so easily, so he continued to kiss his boyfriend all over his face and neck as he tried to greet you. Also normal. Seungcheol's response to Jihoon's complaints of you standing right there as you waited for them to finish their little show, was to offer you to join. Still normal.

The lustful glances at you? Weak. The way Jihoon basically moans as Seungcheol's lips refuse to leave him? Been there, done that.

So what on god's green earth could've possibly struck you as odd? When Seungcheol grabbed your arm and pulled you to sit between the two of them. So simple compared to literally everything else you just witnessed, but it was the only thing that was out of the ordinary. Seungcheol usually got up and wandered further into the apartment as you flopped on the couch next to Jihoon. If the large man ever did come back, he'd take the seat on the other side of Jihoon. So yeah, it was pretty surprising when you found yourself pressed between the two of them like the cream in an Oreo.

Vernon's old theory about them being swingers came to mind. You'd debunked it saying they would've made a move forever ago. And it was true, swingers weren't exactly known for their patience. So as you looked at the two of them, Jihoon leaning on you as he turned on the TV to play the show, Seungcheol's arm falling behind you on the couch, you accepted that this was now a part of the routine.

Other than that, the night was pretty normal. You found yourself laying across the lovers as the episodes went on. You and Jihoon hummed and gasped at the TV, occasionally pausing to stand up and rant about something stupid a character did. Seungcheol laughed at the two of you, saying that ‘It was just a show,’ and that you both needed to calm down. Two sets of eyes glared at the Leo, immediately Jihoon reminded him of how he acts when his favorite team loses a game.

“That's real.” Seungcheol huffed, crossing his arms.

“It's a game!” You shouted at him in disbelief from where you had stood to announce your irritation. “It's literally grown men kicking a ball around!” You gestured wildly.

“Those grown men are skilled, and deserve a win!” He shot back.

“Obviously not if you're crashing out every other night because they can't get one!”

Jihoon cackled at the two of you, falling back on the couch and kicking his legs in the air. “It's true-” Jihoon wheezes trying to catch his breath. “They never win!” He clutched his stomach.

You stood up straight, basking in your victory. Not today Choi Seungcheol. Seungcheol rolled his eyes and pouted, but he still let you flop your legs over his lap without complaint.

You tried to continue the show, but the three of you kept giggling about whatever you were talking about. And as the hours rolled by, and you all grew more tired, you decided it was time to sleep.

Seungcheol threw you over his shoulder, and hauled you to the bedroom when you attempted to walk home at the unholy hour. You could only sigh as you locked eyes with Jihoon who giggled as he treaded closely behind the two of you.

Seungcheol plopped you on the bed while Jihoon went to grab you some of his clothes to use as pajamas. The apartment once had a guest bedroom, but Jihoon had turned it into his photography studio a few years back, leaving only the one room. You never understood why they made you sleep in the bed with them when the couch was still perfectly fine, but you've learned not to question things.

This is just how things are. This is just how they are. And even in all their behaviors, they've never once made you feel uncomfortable, so what was the point in fighting it? You surely couldn't think of a good reason as you slipped on one of Jihoon's oversized shirts, and tied on a pair of his shorts. You exited the bathroom and flopped on the bed where the couple was already cuddling. You'd think the bed would be too crowded, but for whatever reason, Jihoon owned the biggest mattress on the market. Said something about liking his space. Ironic seeing as he drags you and his boyfriend into bed whenever possible.

Jihoon pulled you into the cuddle sesh with little thought.

“Nooooo, you guys run hot.” You whined as you weakly pushed his arms away.

“Yeah we do.” Seungcheol mused.

Well… he wasn't wrong.

Ultimately, you ended up laying on Jihoon's chest with Seungcheol’s arm thrown over the both of you, you all chattered mindlessly while drifting off.

“All this mattress…” You began. “And you guys insist that we sleep like shivering kittens in need of each other's warmth.” You complained half heartedly.

“Awww.” Jihoon cooed at the mental image, his hand running up and down your back. “Those poor kittens.”

“The kittens aren't real, Ji.” You mumbled.

“They are somewhere.” He whispered.

You heard Seungcheol, who you thought was asleep, chuckle at the two of you. “You're both my kittens.” He asserted in a hushed tone.

You rolled your eyes at how cheesy the man was. You didn't bother commenting, but Jihoon sure did.

“That was so fucking corny, babe.” He scrunched his face.

This only made Seungcheol laugh, his mission to make you cringe a success. “I'm glad you think so, babe.”

“Can you like, not, babe.” You tacked onto the ‘babe’ train happening.

“Mmmm, only if I get a kiss, babe.” You don't think there's been a day since you met Seungcheol, that he hasn't demanded kisses from you, or anyone else in the vicinity. The man was such a thot. But hey, If you could pull the way he could, you'd probably be one too.

“How about you both go to bed…” Jihoon chimed in. “Babe.”

You snorted at the delay. He tried not to give in, but he couldn't help himself.

Seungcheol sat up a bit, leaning on his elbow so that he could kiss you and Jihoon. One on Jihoon's lips, one a bit close to yours as he whispered ‘love you's.’

In that moment, as you all were finally falling asleep, a thought dawned on you. One that, perhaps, should've come to you a year ago. Maybe you weren't just their third person, a fortunate witness to their love for one another. Maybe you were their third person, a receiver of the love and devotion that you thought the two of them only held for each other. Your brows furrowed as you pushed the thought aside. Not now. Go to sleep.

-

The next days were… odd. Even more so than usual. The couple wasn't even doing things out of their ordinary, you were just looking at the things they were doing differently. You really tried to push it away, tell yourself you were crazy, but it was no use. Even the level headed Hansol Vernon Chwe, was of no help to you.

“Why didn't I think of that!” Vernon gasped in realization.

You went to him for rational thought, not one of his convoluted theories. But here you were, head in your hands as he further entertained the idea.

“I guess I assumed that they were only exclusive to each other without considering the possibility that they'd be open to a third partner that third partner specifically being you of course because why else would they act all lovey dovey with you unless they wanted you in the relationship as well it actually makes complete sense but we overlooked it due to our closed minds refusing to see-”

“Vernon, literally if you don't shut the fuck up I'm going to rip your tongue out.”

Vernon paused his ramblings, clearing his throat. “All I'm saying, is that I think you clocked it.” he raised his hands in surrender.

You groaned, falling back onto your couch in defeat. “What do I dooooooo?”

“Well… what do you want to do?“ Your friend leaned back into the corner of the couch he always claimed.

What did you want to do? As odd as you felt it all to be in the beginning, you accepted the matter without complaint. And slowly, but surely, the couple had been ingrained into your life, almost like you were a part of the relationship. Always just a boundary or two away from being able to say you were in a throuple. You were perfectly okay with all of it. But you hadn't ever thought about actually being in the relationship. You cared for them both very dearly. Jihoon was your oldest friend, and Seungcheol had thundered his way into your life with a conviction and stubbornness that only he could possess.

Truly, you're grateful to be attached at the hip with them. You always called them ‘your boys,’ because it really felt like they were yours. They were a way around you that they only were with each other, and you took pride in that.

“I mean-” Vernon piped up once again. “-you’re basically dating them already, why not tack on the title and it's added benefits.”

True, true.

In order to fully understand yourself, you thought about your life if you decided to turn them down. A life where they treated you like everybody else. That is if they even still spoke to you. Yeah… no. Not doing that.

Throuple it is.

-

The next time you hung out with the couple, your were practically shaking with nerves. You really had no clue what to say. You considered calling and telling them you were sick, but you realized that they'd probably drop everything to coddle you. Vernon, who never seemed to leave your home, basically wrestled you out the door.

“What if I'm wrong!?” You screeched as he pulled you into the hallway.

“Trust me! You're not!” He huffed as he finally got you close to the elevators. “They want that cookie, ____!” He pushed into the first elevator that opened.

You could only gawk at his words. Foul mouthed boy.

So here you were, in Jihoon's living for what was likely the millionth time, nervously chewing on popcorn while the couple argued about what movie you should all watch. Seungcheol wanted an action movie that you didn't catch the name of, and Jihoon wanted to watch an animated movie that was likely going to make you cry.

Jihoon turned to you with a fire in his eyes. “We won't watch either then! Cupid, you pick!”

Your eyes widened at being addressed so suddenly. You looked between the two of them with furrowed brows.

You picked Howl’s Moving Castle. Seemed like a good in between. Speaking of in between, guess where you were. Sandwiched between the beefy men once again. No surprise there. You watched diligently as Howl whisked Sophie away from the predatory soldiers. The lovers seemed much less invested in the movie they've seen a hundred times, chattering with one another quite literally behind your back. You didn't mind of course, the film was pretty much tattooed on your brain as well, so every now and then you'd hone in on their conversation before going back to focusing on the TV.

You were also plotting. Well… attempting to plot. You still had no clue on how to go about letting them know that you're privy to their own schemes. Do you just say it? Like ‘hey, I know you guys want me, let's do this shit.’ That seemed… not ideal. What if-

Your thoughts were cut off by a small gasp followed by Jihoon's voice. “Seungcheol!”

“Don't Seungcheol me!” The elder's hand flew over his chest, as if wounded.

“Stop being a freak while Howl’s Moving Castle plays!” Jihoon fires back.

The two of them got louder. You only leaned back, trying to decipher exactly what just happened.

“I was just saying!” Seungcheol defended.

“____ is literally sitting between us! Have some decorum!”

“Ain't nothing she ain't heard before!”

Ah okay. Seungcheol was being freaky again. Checks out.

Normally, you'd just kick back and laugh as they went on and on. But today, you were arguing with your own demons, really taking in what was being said in reference to you. Seungcheol was always a flirt, minding at all if you were there to witness sexual way he spoke to his boyfriend, and he always “joked” about including you in their… activities. But Jihoon was keen on not scaring you away with Seungcheol's raunchy behavior. It was one of the things that had confused you a lot in the beginning. Seungcheol's behavior was far from appropriate, but Jihoon was less worried about his man saying sexual things to you, and more worried about you not wanting to be around them anymore. You shrugged it off as a joke seeing as Seungcheol had always been kind of a hoe.

“Oh look what you did, the poor girl is frozen.” Jihoon took in you stiff appearance, convinced that they'd really fucked up this time. “You've actually scared her this time around.” His voice actively became more gentle, in fear of you running off.

Seungcheol's face visibly softened. “Shit. I'm sorry, ____, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.” He slowly made some space between the two of you, Jihoon followed suit.

You blinked trying to collect your thoughts. “That's not-” You looked at him, taking in how sincere he was being. “I'm not… I was just-” Damn, if only you could form a fucking sentence right now.

The concern on Seungcheol's face only worsened with every second that passed. Jihoon ever so gently places a hand on your shoulder. You turned to face him.

“Hey, it's okay. We know we're a lot. Just… you can tell us if it's too much.”

“No! That's not it!” You shot up from your seat, spilling the popcorn in your lap. You'll clean that up later. “I'm not uncomfortable!” You asserted.

The lovers looked at you, surprised by your outburst.

“I just- fuck, how do I say this?” You scratched at your head hoping to form a tangible thought. “You guys… have always been this way with me. And I've always kinda wondered why… and I think that I've finally put two and two together.”

You glanced at them to try and gauge their reactions, but other than furrowed brows, their expressions gave away nothing. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you continued.

“Call me crazy if I'm wrong.” You chuckled nervously. “But is there a chance… that maybe you both-” Your heart was beating out of your chest. This was it, now or never. “-have feelings for me?”

You flinched at your own words, squeezing your eyes shut. You couldn't bear to look at them. What you just said was insane, it was even more so to say to their faces. You readied yourself to be called an idiot and laughed at, or worse, they just look at you awkwardly and ask you to leave. Oh just the thought made it hard to breathe.

“____.” A gentle voice called your name. You finally opened your eyes to find Jihoon standing in front of you with Seungcheol right beside him. “Hey, you're not crazy.” He shook his head, a small smile on his face.

“We're literally insane about you.” Seungcheol added.

Jihoon shoved the taller man in his side, his eye twitching. “Tone it down!” He said through gritted teeth.

You chuckled at the antics, even in your state of semi panic. You adored these fools. The lovers smiled as your laugh reached their ears.

“It's okay if you don't feel the same, we-”

“Are you kidding!?” You cut off Seungcheol. “As integrated as I've been in this relationship, I'd literally cry like it was a real breakup if it ended here.” You ran your hands down your face, exasperated. All that anxiety for nothing.

Seungcheol could no longer help himself. He launched at you, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing you tightly. You'd hug him back if you could move your arms. He quickly pulled Jihoon into the hug as well, making sure you were all pressed together like pancakes.

“This is great, Cheol.” You coughed out. “But my lungs are collapsing.”

When Seungcheol showed no signs of moving, Jihoon pinched his side, causing him to yelp.

“What the hell, baby!?” Seungcheol cried out.

“You're gonna kill her before we can even make her our girlfriend!” The pale man scowled.

Seungcheol messaged his side. “Yeah… that would be bad, wouldn't it…” He muttered mindlessly.

You found yourself laughing again. Jihoon pinched the bridge of his nose as Seungcheol collected himself.

“Can we do this?” Jihoon pleaded.

“Yeah okay!” Seuncheol started, determined. “How?”

Jihoon's eyes went wide. “Like we practiced, Cheolie!?”

Practiced? All this effort to ask you out? You were extremely flattered. Truthfully, you would've been satisfied with a ‘be our girlfriend.’

“I know, but I can't remember what I'm supposed to say, baby. I'm sorry.” Seungcheol scratched his arm.

Jihoon blinked a few times. “Okay… that's fine.” Jihoon comforted, placing a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Just ask her.”

“Me? Are you sure you don't want to?”

“I'm going to punch you in your beautiful face.”

“Okay! Okay! Understood!”

“Hey, guys?” You spoke up, doing your best not to fall out from how cute they were being. Just the sweetest guys. They looked at you with big, hopeful eyes. “I was wondering if the two of you wanted to be my boyfriends?”

“Yes!”

“Absolutely!”

Both voices hit you at once. You could only beam at two men standing in front of you. “Well that was easy.” You giggled.

“Yeah, and it only took you a year.” Jihoon scrunched his face at you and crossed his arms.

“Hey!” You pointed at him. “Don't give me that! I was being decent!”

“Cupcake.” Seungcheol chimed in, leaning on Jihoon's shoulder. “There was nothing decent about any of this.” He raised a brow at you.

You thought back to all of what was essentially soft core porn you witnessed, and could only nod in agreement. None of this was decent.

“Just because you two are whores, doesn't mean I had to be one.” You raised your brow in judgement.

“If you stuck around to watch, I think that makes you just as much of a whore as we are.” Jihoon narrowed his eyes at you, his lips quirked into a smirk.

Well then…

You looked down at your feet, taking note of the popcorn that still needs to be cleaned up.

“I should clean that up.” You mumbled.

Seungcheol wheezed at the topic change as he moved to do it for you. “I got it, my love.”

Oh. My love. You could get used to that.

Jihoon flopped onto the couch, ensuring to pull you down with him. He basically wrapped around you like a Koala. You reciprocated, tangling your limbs with his and giggling as you watched your boyfriend clean.

Ooh that had a nice ring to it. Your boyfriend. Your's and Jihoon's boyfriend. You and your boyfriend's boyfriend. Yeah that's good stuff.

Seungcheol soon joined the two of you, enveloping you both in his large arms with ease. It helped that you and Jihoon had essentially merged into one person while he was cleaning. Howl's Moving Castle was about half of the way through, and the three of you let it play just to talk over it some more.

“Did you really do that?” Jihoon's eyes widened in horror as you told him about how they had Vernon to thank for being in your presence tonight. “You're neighbors probably heard.” He held his hand over his mouth, immensely worried about the social implications.

“And it only got worse when he screamed ‘they want that cookie.’” You looked off into the distance with a thousand yard stare as you thought about your poor nextdoor neighbors, Mrs Song and her husband. Awful, just awful.

Jihoon choked on air, coughing into his hands. “What!?”

“Well he wasn't wrong.” Seungcheol commented.

“Cheol!” Jihoon slapped his arm.

“Oh my god, she's our girlfriend. What more could you want?” Seungcheol groaned.

“I don't know, maybe buy her dinner first, you freak!” Jihoon scolded.

“We buy her dinner! Often!”

“A proper date! We have to take her on a proper date! Then we can talk about whatever…” Jihoon gestures vaguely at Seungcheol. “This is!”

“What does that even- you know what, never mind.” Seungcheol waved him off. “You weren't even this by the book when we started dating. If I remember correctly, you basically begged me to-”

“Genuine question.”Jihoon cut him off. “Do you ever shut the fuck up? Just genuinely.”

You could not breathe. That's how hard you were laughing. Tears pricked at your eyes as you gripped Seungcheol's arm to find some sort of stability. You hadn't noticed the conversation came to a halt until you managed to catch your breath. You blinked away the tears in your eyes and noticed Seungcheol and Jihoon looking at you. Their eyes were all sparkly and wide, and they had soft smiles on their faces.

“What?” You breathe out.

“Nothing.” Seungcheol spoke up. “We're just… so happy that you're here.” Jihoon hummed in agreement.

You felt your heartbeat quicken. You looked at two lovers, your two lovers, with a full heart. And you were damn happy to be there.

(⁠*⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠)⁠/⁠～⁠♡

A/N I really just wanted some CheolHoon in my life. I'm pretty vague about describing people's reactions so I'm trying to get better at that, but I hope I do a well enough job for now. Don't even talk to me about describing surroundings. Plans to expand upon this lil au. Moments with Seungcheol, Moments with Jihoon, make out sesh, bc they don't actually kiss in this, and that's kinda criminal.

But anyways, Thank you for reading! If you liked it, tell me in reblogs or comments! I'd love to hear your thoughts!

[joyswonderland1108]

Joke's Dead, Barbara. Let It Decompose in Peace.

You ever meet a person whose entire personality is built around a joke from 2017 and just.. never evolved? Like the human version of a Windows XP screensaver, bouncing around aimlessly with no update in sight?

Not to be a party pooper but many ARMY are just like that one cousin who told you a joke when you were kids and it was funny the first time, and still a little funny the second time because, y'know, childhood. But then every single year they show up and tell the exact same joke like it's the crown jewel of their personality. At some point, it's not funny. It's not cute. It's just ✨chronically stale✨and embarrassingly under-evolved.

That's like half the fandom on BTS-tok lately. Still beating the dehydrated, dusty, crusty "Jimin vs Jeongyeon" drama like it's a fresh story not a prehistoric relic buried somewhere next to dinosaurs and your last original thought. They're over here begging for an episode with them to "finally spill the tea" like we're owed an ancient scroll of beef history.

You know who you are. The social media barnacle that keeps clinging to the same stale "jokes" like they're heirlooms passed down by your great-aunt Delusional.

Like babes, that "drama" is older than Jungkook's tattoos. Let. It. Go.

Neither Jimin nor Jeongyeon owe you shit, not a single syllable of explanation, not a quote, not a wink, not even a passive-aggressive emoji. Let's be honest— if Jimin or Jeongyeon did spill any tea, you'd still twist it like a rotisserie chicken and serve it with your own fanfic seasoning (y'all are already doing this), so what's the point? And if they decided to take whatever tension (or complete lack thereof) to the grave with them, that's their business. What is this compulsive need to dig up fossilized gossip like some chaotic archaeologist with a degree in Mind-Your-Business Studies?

This isn't some low-budget drama where idols owe you confessionals like it's a reunion night on Real Housewives of K-pop. Grow the hell up.

I know someone will hit me with the ever-so-original "but it's just a joke 😭" and to that i say: Not when you've turned the internet into a goddamn circus with it. Sweetie, the only joke here is your sense of humour, and i'd sue for emotional damage if I had to endure one more braincell-melting comment section about "tell us about the beef 😭😭😭" Jokes expire, babe. And this one has expired, fermented, decomposed, and been recycled into fertilizer for new, better jokes.

Like.. are you even okay? Are you trapped in a time loop where 2016 keeps resetting? Do you need help escaping? Blink twice.

Do you know what it's like to scroll through BTS content and instead of thoughtful, creative comments, we're bombarded with the same recycled punchlines from 2016 like they're on a looped infomercial? You are the comedic version of "buffering..." A spinning wheel of outdated humor and zero originality.

The same comedic toddler that thinks "Yoongi marry me" is peak humour— like baby, that gag expired five years ago and now it just smells like desperation and fermented cringe. Need i remind you that it started as a joke too? But y'all didn't just beat the dead horse— you dug it up, made it dance on Tiktok, and then dragged it into Hobi's sister's live. Seriously? Yoongi isn't gonna marry you, and Hobi's sister sure as hell doesn't want to hear about it while trying to sell skincare or eat noodles.

And then here comes Barbara, every damn time, clutching her pearls going

"But the members laugh at it 😩" Of course they do, Barbara. What do you expect? You expect Yoongi to break character mid-live and go "Actually, shut the fuck up, this is annoying"? Be serious. They're being polite. Unlike me. They are professional. I'm not. And I'm telling you to shut the fuck up.

Instead of begging idols for exposés on minor passive-aggressive moments from eight years ago, maybe—just maybe— try something relevant and respectful for once? Like:

"Your vocals were insane today!"

"That new song hit me like a truck, in the best way."

"Tae, play Hozier next please, I think you'd like it."

"That choreo? Literally art. I'm unwell."

"JK your hair is perfect even when it's unbrushed and chaotic"

Like damn, you're out here acting like personality is optional.

You're not being quirky. You're being chronically cringe with the humor range of a damp sponge. You've got the energy of someone who peaked in 2015 and then time-traveled here to haunt us with expired memes and decaying catchphrases.

We are in 2025. Almost 2026 now. Your "Jimin vs Jeongyeon tea" jokes are the fan-equivalent of someone who still says "YOLO" unironically.

Please. Get a grip. Or at least a new punchline.

Thank you for coming to my yap session. See you in the next one.

[robby-bobby-tommy]

I haven't played deltarune yet and only watched some let's plays, but Tenna makes me so unwell. The comment "divorce so bad tv got divorced" Convinced me to check it out lmao.

DELTARUNE CHAPTER 3 SPOILERS‼️‼️‼️

But that's not the point of the post. I just want to speculate on smt I just thought.

Why are Tenna and Spamton on such bad terms?

It might be obvious, but I want to share my view on their relationship. It's probably a common sense, but I don't think Tenna is so pissed off and hurt by Spamton just because he left him and didn't sign his contract.

Tenna is ofc pissed because of that, I'm not denying that, but the real reason, at least for me, is a little bit deeper.

As we all know, Tenna has a LOT of abandonment issues. It's seen through his dialogue with Kris and his desperate desire to be watched, to be seen and to have the audience. It is implied that he did hear a lot of Toriel and Asgore's fights multiple times, but he may be unaware of their divorce or at least he surely doesn't know about Asriel's departure to college. So from his perspective, Tenna was abandoned, plugged out because he became obsolete. He was ultimately abandoned. And we don't know when Tenna was turned off or when he was spending time with Spamton. So he probably lived with this pain for a long time.

Now, this is great and all, but what am I getting at? Well, let's take a look at how Tenna describes the scene of their last meeting (or at least I think it was)

"He suddenly had to take the phone call...But when he picked it up his face went pale... And je ran right out of the room with the receiver hanging!.. So I picked it up. ..... But there was nobody there!"

Tenna doesn't have any knowledge of this entity that was controlling/helping Spamton. So, for him, Spamton got scared of smt that Tenna didn't hear or know existed, and ran away without any explanation. Tenna might (and does!!!) consider this an abandonment. Spamton just left him behind. And THIS Is the main reason of why he's upset. Ofc that deal and the secret to being a big shot was important to him, but losing a friend was probably even worse. (Even though I enjoy a romantic reading of their relationship, I do want to say that it's not really important if it is or isn't one. They could be just really good friends, mb they were the only ones who truly understood each other even if it was purely platonic)

So, in short, despite having a very deep relationship, which is proved by Tenna keeping the pipis, Spamton abandoned his buddy and presumably left him with no explanation to never see him again. Ofc his buddy with abandonment issues and anxiety doesn't take it well and grows to resent Spamton a lot.

In Spamton's case, in turn, he might've never wanted to leave Tenna hanging like that, but his benefactor might've not left him a choice.

Spamton was genuinely terrified by what he heard and probably didn't mean for this scene to play out like this. Whatever was said on this call shook Spamton a lot and maybe this is the moment his "luck ran out". Correct me if I'm wrong, but this might be the begging of Spamton's downfall where he lost everything. Multiple terrible events back to back and loneliness caused him to have a mental break. I assume this is when his mental state went to sh_t. Spamton might've started to envy Tenna cuz from his perspective he's got everything he wanted. And plus continuous mentions of obsolescence of email didn't help I feel. Ofc, it's not like Spamton could explain to Tenna the identity of his benefactor and why he was afraid of him. This secret became the foundation for their friendship/relationship downfall imo.

TLDR: I think it's kind of Vi/Powder situation, where both didn't mean to hurt or abandon each other, but the lack of another person's perspective and secrets lead to the ultimate downfall of their relationship imo

They're just one big Asgore/Toriel allegory/j

[writing-for-life]

The Weight of Goodbye

Dream’s SoM-meetings with Hob Gadling, Lyta & Daniel Hall and his subjects

Sorry not sorry for using this one again, because I’m Jon J Muth’s no. 1 fan, plus it helps me to get over Kelley Jones’ art which I find… challenging 🤣

I’ve been thinking about The Sandman #22 for our reread, and while there are many gut-wrenching issues, this is one of the most quietly devastating ones. It’s a bit like Dream writing his will while pretending he’s just going on a business trip (and of course we get something similar again later on in The Kindly Ones 🥺)

The Speech to His Subjects

Dream addresses the denizens of The Dreaming before departing for Hell. He frames it a bit as instructions for his absence (and sounds super awkward when admitting he made mistakes—it’s honestly like car crash TV), but the emotional undertones suggest something far more permanent:

He tells them about how to maintain the realm if certain situations arise (like him not coming back, either because he dies or because he gets captured) and presents it like contingency planning (for lack of better term). But the truth of the matter is that he’s putting his affairs in order. The formality of it, the careful way he addresses potential concerns: This isn’t just someone covering all bases, this is a ruler preparing his kingdom for the real possibility that he won’t return. And it’s the first time we get told, in no uncertain terms, that if he gets destroyed (his choice of words, not mine), another aspect of Dream will take over.

[Also: Is it just me who thinks that Kelley Jones draws him at his most beautiful when he’s vulnerable? Because some of his other artistic choices are… well, definitely choices 🙈🤣]

What truly gets me is the narrative use of Matthew. He’s concerned, but he doesn’t grasp the hint of finality in Dream’s tone. And at this stage, the reader may not either (we need to remember that we didn’t have the type of hindsight we have now back when the comics first came out; we didn’t know how the whole run would end). So Matthew is, once again, a stand-in for us, the reader (that always makes me think of The Wake, and even after decades, I’m still not over Matthew's speech and his grief). It doesn't help that we’re starting to see their growing bond, and the cracks in Dream’s armour he hid only a minute ago when everyone else was still there:

“I wanted to stick around. Do you mind?” “No.” 😩

The Meeting with Lyta and Daniel

Dream’s visit to Lyta Hall and baby Daniel often gets brushed to the side a bit, and without the knowledge of what’s going to happen, I get it.

But of course we do know what has already happened in The Doll’s House. Even there, it was painfully obvious that Dream, at least on some level, had plans for Daniel. So yeah, this is not a social call; he’s checking in on his replacement (for lack of better term). They have a bond because Daniel was conceived (show)/gestated (comics) in the Dreaming. It’s not Morpheus who gives Daniel his name—it’s most likely Daniel who told him his name.

Lyta’s discomfort throughout the scene isn’t just about supernatural entities dropping by unannounced, or about her deep-seated hatred of Dream because she considers him responsible for Hector’s death. She knows, on an intuitive level, that he is marking Daniel in some way because he already told her back in The Doll’s House that he’ll one day come for the child. At the same time, he’s acknowledging here that this might be the last time he sees the child for a very long time, and that he means Lyta no harm (“today” 🙄). And maybe that’s the only explanation for this:

Because I don’t know about you: If a strange guy whom I deem responsible for my husband’s death tells me the “true” name of my yet unnamed child, I'd certainly not consider that name and smile about it happily…

Hob Gadling and the Toast

Dream appears to Hob in a dream, and that’s a deeply significant choice. He could have met him in the waking world just like Lyta, but instead, he chooses to visit Hob in his own domain, where he has absolute power. But he doesn’t really use that power here, other than for getting in contact in the first place. He rather reveals something that could almost be considered vulnerability:

That’s the same Dream who stormed off in a huff in 1889 because Hob dared to suggest they were friends. The same Dream who tentatively acknowledged that friendship in 1989. The same Dream who now decides to say goodbye to the one person he actually considers a friend. For someone whose entire existence is built on pride and hierarchy, this shows character growth. But it also shows how desperately alone he really is, and that he doesn't want to be a burden to anyone (and that's compounded to the umpteenth degree when they meet the next time 😔).

But there’s subtext here that’s even more heartbreaking: Dream is settling his accounts. He’s making sure that if he doesn’t return from Hell, Hob won’t spend the next century wondering where Dream is, or if their friendship was real. By choosing to appear in Hob’s dreams, he’s giving him something lasting: a memory. And many of us know that this will be one of the cornerstones of Sunday Mourning.

The tragedy is that Hob doesn’t even truly realise this is a goodbye, and he hopes he’ll be back “eventually”. He's happy to have seen his friend, even if it was "just a silly dream"...

Patterns...

When you read these three sequences together, you can't help but see that Dream is systematically saying goodbye to the, at least at this point, three most important cornerstones of his existence: his successor (Daniel), his one true friendship (Hob), and his realm.

This isn’t the behaviour of someone who expects to return unchanged from his mission. This is someone who understands that going to Hell to demand the release of an ex-lover he condemned 10,000 years ago is likely to have consequences he may not survive.

Which brings us to the most important question of this issue:

Does Dream already know he will die?

I don’t think he knows, at this point, specifically how or when. But I think he does understand that his existence is reaching some kind of conclusion. The family intervention, the guilt over what he has done to Nada which makes him return to Hell: They’re really only the culmination of ten billion years of accumulated mistakes and regrets, and it’s only going to get worse from here.

The paradox is that Dream is finally ready to change, but change is antithetical to how he perceives himself. So perhaps, on some level, he understands that real change might require becoming someone else entirely. And that is something I think he does know at this point.

What makes issue #22 so powerful is how it recontextualises everything that comes after. When he eventually faces his final choice in The Kindly Ones, we can look back and see that he was already preparing himself here (and if you know me, you will also know that I staunchly insist he already made an, albeit subconscious, choice in #8). Maybe it’s a masterclass in dramatic irony: Dream thinks he’s being practical with making his contingency plans. But we can see him subconsciously preparing for an ending he hasn’t yet acknowledged to himself. But he also has...

Kelley Jones’ Art

I just briefly want to brush (no pun intended) on how Kelley Jones’s art reinforces these themes. His Dream is somehow always in shadow, even if it’s just his face. There’s a weight to him in every panel, a sense of someone carrying an enormous burden. I am generally not a fan of Jones' art (sorry), and I find his constantly changing Dream difficult to get used to (but I guess that's the point, and I totally get it on a conceptual level). But one thing stands out to me: The way he draws Dream against various backgrounds (Lyta’s apartment, the dreamscape with Hob, the throne room) consistently makes him seem isolated, separate, already partially absent. Even when he’s surrounded by other people/beings. But maybe I'm just reading too much into it…

Anyway, to put it all in a nutshell: The real tragedy, but also the deeper meaning of The Sandman, is that Dream tries to make amends for a lifetime of mistakes, only to discover that some changes require transformation so complete that the self doesn’t survive the process. But in metaphorical terms, the death of the ego is also a beautiful and necessary thing…

[the-selfinsert]

I have this little thought exercise that's been floating around in my mind that I thought would be fun to share.

So, we all know how prominent Sans is in the UTMV, yeah? Almost every character is based on him. Now, I am a big Sans Au fan, and I enjoy a lot of them. However, sometimes, I do wish we had more variety.

So, something I like to do, is take a currently existing AU, Sans or not, and think about how it could be changed or altered to fit another UT character. It's both a fun exercise to help you reimagine a character you like, and also helps you get a better feel and appreciation for some of the original cast too! (Sometimes, certain roles only really work for one specific character, but there's usually at least a little wiggle room)

For the purposes of demonstration, I'll be using Nightmare Sans. We all already know him, so I'll spare you the explanation, but just know that his role is one of the most broad, as it's just someone who's goal is to cause suffering and misery, and because it's so broad, it's very easy to imagine other versions with different flavorings but the same overall goal. So, for instance:

Chara: Leaning into the motifs of being a demon, and the absolute. Acquiring as much power as possible, and bringing everything to the absolute maximum of misery

Mettaton: Treating every world as a beautiful tragedy, and doing his best to bring it to fruition

Frisk: The devil on your shoulder, would bring misery via other people's choices, encouraging them to make the worst and darkest decisions they could

Asgore: The tyrant, king of all, with an unquestionable rule

Alphys: A scientists, pursuing the deepest, darkest secrets of every field of science

Gaster: An eldtrich horror, bringing madness and darkness wherever his followers begin to spread his influence

Papyrus: Would specialize in loneliness and isolation as forms of misery

Asriel/Flowey: Well, Flowey is essentially Nightmare Asriel already, isn't he? So I think very little needs to be changed there.

Undyne: Retributive justice. The belief that the people of the world, every world, are too far gone, and deserve to pay for their crimes.

Toriel: Possibly a more closed-off figure, less about directly causing misery, and more-so slowly warping the world around her as she's consumed in her own pain and or grief. Possible fixation on Asriels and Charas, maybe kidnapping them?

Sans (i know this already exists (duh) but in the spirit of this exercise): Pure apathy and nihilism. Showing people the crushing weight of existance and how pointless it all is in the end

Now, are all of these amazing? Probably not, and it's clear that it was easier to think of things for some of these than for others. However, I think it's still a pretty fun thing to do, and it really gives you a chance to figure out what parts of the characters we all know and love you could utilize and play up to make them fit into certain roles, or how they'd respond if placed in said roles!

[medi-melancholy]

meanwhile, a month ago, when i was blissfully unaware of what awaited me at the end of ARR--i started to get Really Mad at CT (and started ✨coils✨)

you're going to what. why. where did this come from

:( what about your own wishes?? what do you really genuinely want to do? what about your own individual dreams and goals and purpose you want to look for? yes you're the one living person available with allagan blood and yes doga and unei entrusted more power to you but like, you didn't sign up for any of this, you just wanted some explanation behind why your family has had the eye of allag and you wanted to explore the tower and all that, i just. wehhhhh

says who???? why does it have to be? we just lost our new friends doga and unei, and now we're gonna lose you too? that sucks, man!

maybe i don't want it to be! because this sucks! why are just letting him do this! without taking any time to possible consider alternatives or look for other solutions!!!!

man ok i don't even really care about the cat but i personally do not like how this whole story chunk was handled. it's unsatisfying when characters just end up slaves to fate or destiny stuff beyond their control and they're just chill with it or they willingly subject themselves to it and everyone around them is like yeah sure go ahead this is fine

save me, nero's tom-holland-frog-in-mouth face.... make me laugh

:/ thanks. it was. something

but NOW. we experience peak*

*unsynched peak

forever awwww'ing at how tiny the twins are.... they're baby

also i'm proud of my stubborn daughter for knowing when it's time to ask for some help!

anjyu is very actions over words, this is true

for the first half of coils, i called in pixel to carry me ♥️

ah yes. me, alisaie, the ruins of dalamud, and this random rabbit in a raincoat from another world who's been obliterating everything in sight for us

[flashbacks to the 2.0 fetch quest chain] Yes.

ooohhh ok. so that's why the not-moon hatched like an egg and bahamut came out, because he was captive in there the whole time. i am getting my questions answered!

i am also getting my ears answers'ed

us.... and also willow is here

anjyu, perpetually confused, and willow doing a jerma, in the same sparkly purple void

god don't jinx it. but yeah that's the unsynched carry mood LMAO

........uh. hold on

UH. ARE WE LIKE. SAFE HERE???

are any of these places safe?????? because this hall looks evil as fuck

great googly fucking moogly he's just right there

PEEPAW SIGHTING WAS REAL

COILS HAUNTED??????

ohhh... daughter.... 🥺

i... don't know if that's the case, though! but i'd hate to crush her dreams. i seriously think that's just like. an afterimage of some kind. because how in the hell could he still be alive

i would die for you. you are the bestest

[daughterofheartshaven]

Pacifism yippee! The reassurance is super appreciated - I'm a little stressed today (for reasons that you already know about).

And yeah that's valid. It probably helps on my end that I like The Wedding of River Song and The Name of the Doctor as episodes and yeah those two are probably my favorite story arcs as well.

Ah, yep. That makes a lot of sense. For me, wiping the slate clean was exactly what I wanted - having the modern earth population be aware of alien invasions is a concept I really don't care for in Doctor Who (this is probably up there in why I don't like the Tenth Doctor era), so that mostly feels like cleaning up a preexisting mess to me.

I mean I guess I maybe would prefer an explanation of time-wimey alienness that has nothing to do with every character being tied to the Doctor? But nothing in River's arc like inherently bothers me (in the way that the concept of giving the Master - let alone the first female Master - a redemption arc inherently bothers me), and I feel like they executed what they did incredibly well (with the noted exception of Let's Kill Hitler, which was a massive let-down). And River's arc - or at least her relationship with the Doctor, Amy, and Rory - was planned out ahead of time enough that Alex Kingston knew what her character knew, and watching River try to avoid saying anything is super interesting to me. There are so many moments that become really interesting and heartbreaking once you know what River knows. So to me saying "I wanted River to be not inherently tied to the Doctor" feels a little like saying "they should have done something totally different from what they did" and not "I am going to criticize how this specific thing was handled or wrapped up".

And, like, there's nothing wrong with criticizing something along the lines of the former sentence. I just tend not to do it.

So what I'm saying is I think it's really interesting and really well done and even if it's not the sort of thing that I'd do I still really like it

Doctor Who is Better When it is Monster-of-the-Week

(I have evidence for my opinions, but obligatory disclaimer that these are my opinions, it's fine if you disagree but do not yell at me about it)

Doctors 1-3: didn't really have arcs of any sort, only Situations and character development. Even the unit thing was more a setting-situation than a story arc. There were excellent stories and really bad ones

This makes the Key to Time the first real plot arc, and while it could be worse it's largely agreed upon that it was unnecessary to tie these episodes together into a Mission. And as it was, they were barely even connected otherwise. So yes I enjoyed them, but they didn't need to be an arc

The rest of Four was generally very good with some obvious misses

Turlough was sort of a halfway attempt at an arc, but I'm not sure if I should even count it because we didn't really see the moment when he shifted from an assassin to a companion

This makes the next real, complete arc Trial of a Timelord, one of the most disliked eras of classic who, and it wasn't for Colin Baker's acting ability. Even so, they tried to have it both ways here, both an arc and a series of unconnected stories, and it didn't really work. The courtroom scenes were fun, though

No more arcs for the rest of classic who

The only arc-adjacent thing in Nine's season is the Bad Wolf foreshadowing, which might have been cool but ended up just being foreshadowing and then a conclusion that only kind of made sense

Ten's I think was both overrated and genuinely good, as both Moffat and RTD are better at singular stories than ongoing arcs and he didn't really have much in the way of season-long plot arcs. Again, just foreshadowing and then conclusions

Eleven #1: The Cracks in the Universe. There are Eleven episodes I like, and his characterization is fun. But I don't think any of his arcs worked because I don't think they were thought out as stories so much as a collection of things that sounded cool. Cracks in time eating history might have been cool, but then the answer was that Amy had to stay in stasis for 2000 years, Rory basically willed himself into being real instead of an automaton, and they wrote themselves into such a corner the only way to fix the universe was to have Amy be able to inexplicably remember a Doctor who no longer existed. I maintain that if they did this today as a way of resetting the history of alien invasions, instead of when the whole fandom was lusting after Matt Smith, it would be a wildly unpopular decision

Eleven #2: River. I love River as a character, even on the show. I hate absolutely everything about her backstory. She could have been a mystery in her own right, someone cool and unusual and with no ties to the Doctor before meeting him out of order and marrying him. I would have liked that. Instead, it was apparently necessary to make the Doctor's wife the child of the woman who's been clearly in love with him most of his life, and oh yeah she's only in love with him because she was brainwashed to be obsessed with him in a murderous way then spent years listening to her mother (!!) as a kid obsess about his mysterious perfection. And that's not meant to be creepy at all. I am bonus extra annoyed about this because they actually do have good chemistry and I like their dynamic, but this mess was unnecessary. And don't even get me started on how they'd had him meet so few friends and allies that when they tried to do a reunion like they did for Ten, they had to make a bunch up in the moment and pretend you should know them

Eleven #3: Clara. She's an intriguing mystery to the Doctor because he keeps seeing her throughout history. You're supposed to agree because she's cute. That's the whole arc.

Twelve #1: Clara and Danny. I actually enjoy a lot more of Clara's character and the stories here, but making her fall in love with someone the Doctor hates for no good reason, lie to both of them to balance her life, kill him off because they wrote themselves into a corner again and need her free to travel with the Doctor, and then never mention him or how that broke history again was not needed

Twelve #2: Missy's redemption. Ok, I actually liked this one. I do think they waited too long to do the reveal and didn't leave time to do it properly, but I enjoyed it anyway

Thirteen #1: Timeless Children. I don't feel like I should really count this as an arc in quite the same way, but someone will point it out if I don't mention it. It feels more like the earlier things, more individual stories that have some foreshadowing towards a big conclusion

Thirteen #2: The Flux. I like a lot of the storytelling here, but making it one big stakes-raising, universe-ending story was completely unnecessary

Fifteen #1: Ruby. One of the worst arcs, as so much of this season was dedicated to questions about Ruby's origins that are never answered in a way that makes any sense

Fifteen #2: Returning Belinda to Earth. This one is better purely because it leaves more room for monster-of-the-week stories between the arc plot. And yes, until the finale it remains one of my favorite seasons. But again, they built up a compelling mystery and then answered it in the worst way possible that didn't even address what was happening in a satisfying way

So basically, I think Doctor Who as a show functions better when it is made up of adventure stories that remember previous continuity but don't try to link together into a bigger, higher-stakes overarching plot because no one who writes for this show can keep track of more than two plot points at a time and usually even if the arc was good I would argue it wouldn't add that much to the story or character

[splintered-emotions]

Wait a minute you tried to get into nascar???? Lore drop pls?????

i feel like this isn't a terribly interesting story because it's like also just what my friends have been dealing with since december of last year basically but like i kinda got into formula one on a whim last december because 1) i was bored and 2) what better way to spend the week before finals than getting into an entirely new thing. this was directly caused by a @ dear-ao3 post where one of the mods was describing the las vegas grand prix and the one tiktoker i vaguely keep up with posting about it and making me go wait that's kinda fucked up and could be fun and then i got sucked in because of an incredibly messy race that i fully watched after the 2023 season was over. and then i was just like deep in those trenches (and also the world endurance championship trenches and the imsa weathertech sportscar championship trenches) for the entirety of the spring semester. and then i kinda got bored for a bit when i hit the like three weeks of summer where i wasn't doing anything and then i decided what if nascar, and then i watched the 2012 daytona 500, tried to watch another one and couldn't deal with the constant ad breaks so now i'm keeping up with formula 1, indycar, and the imsa weathertech sportscar championship and that's it and that's a normal amount of motorsports to be keeping up with at all times.

[roses-and-revolutions]

The people of Gotham both fear and revere The Signal. As they do the rest of the Batfam but for Signal it's a bit different.

For starters, he's the only daytime hero. The other Bats usually only come out at night when the city is quieter. And while it's far from asleep, they prioritize stopping the numerous crimes that occur in the shadows. Civilian interactions far and few. Most pictures of them online seemed more like cryptid sightings than heroes soaring through Gotham skies.

The Signal on the other hand was the people's Bat. They got to see him soar through the sky, or ride his bike in all his golden glory. He gave autographs, took photos, and joined them on their daily commutes. He was a regular at mom-and-pop shops, made sure the troubled kids made it to school, and checked in on the sick and elderly. And while he did work with them when necessary, he mostly liked to fuck with the police, like a true Gothamite would.

All in all, he was the sweet sunshine that Gotham needed. He was far more human than the others. Not that he was human, oh heck no! NONE of the bats were human! But it felt that way. Until you were reminded that he was INDEED a Bat.

The way he merged and appeared out of the shadows despite his bright yellow suit, and moved without a sound. He knew about people and things before they happened. And had an intelligence that was absolutely terrifying when thought about. And the way he took care of crimes?

The Signal is cold, borderline brutal, and efficient (with commentary that leaves you agape and a chill down your spine) when dealing with criminals. It was always jarring to witness the sudden change from Gotham's sunshine boy to stone-cold Bat, and back again. It almost gave you whiplash to realize that this was the vigilante that you were talking to about your puppies a few moments ago. And it really instilled the Fear™ that that bats were known for.

The other Bats were terrifying, shadowy demons that moved through the night. Stopping crime in the darkness. Gotham knew and appreciated this. But the Signal? He was the bright light at the end of the tunnel and the warmth of the brilliant sun. But he was also...

'Gotham's Darkest Angel'

[blackkatdraws2]

There are more things in the Parable than Stanley knows about. [Blank Scripts AU]

[designernishiki]

it’s kinda funny to me how that dumb scene in kiwami 1 of majima getting shot and left for dead in the harbor was basically just added as a half-assed way to explain majima not being around for a bit of the plot, but they accidentally(?) just made it seem like start of a chain reaction where majima ended up feeling slighted and heartbroken after being abandoned like that and then lashed out about it via smashing a big truck into the building kiryu was in. and yeah that isn’t inherently a romantic thing as-is but then they go and add the part where majima grabs a hostess and performatively hits on her as in-kiryu’s-face as possible, she says she’s already in love with someone, and majima lets her go immediately, no questions asked, making a big fucking point of it just to say see THAT kiryu? I appreciate when people are HONEST about their FEELINGS. people who won’t just BACKSTAB someone who CARES about them to save themselves. is that so crazy kiryu?? huh??? anyway make it up to me get down here and fight me right fucking now

[sysig]

Dr. “Has to get a good grade in therapy” Doran (Patreon)

[cleocatrablossy]

I ramble

Every time aromantacism comes up I am immediately reminded that there Is in fact something up with my romantic attraction but I literally just don’t know what. Like… only having a crush on someone once you’re really good buddies if not besties and also only even being interested in a relationship because a lot of the stuff you deem ‘we sorta just get along stuff’ is generally seen as romantic and so you freak out and just see being in a relationship as a way to do the ‘we just sorta get along stuff’ without questions or people judging. So then I just feel awful because isn’t that just using someone for your own benefit? Even though you’d be totally chill with just doing the same stuff as friends and probably actually prefer it. Speaking of, why the fuck is cuddling seen as romantic? Maybe I just like cuddles because I’m always cold and I like opportunities to gossip.

Like yes I do get crushes, it’s just sort of an annoying thing my brain does though and I’m pretty sure it’s literally because of that whole disconnect with what is generally assigned ‘romantic’ vs ‘not romantic’ meaning my brain just sorta goes ‘this is a friend that you trust 100% congratulations you have a crush now good luck’ and like Especially if they’re touchy or we have similar interests in really stupid and hyperspecific shit(creating river systems, roly poly habitats, infection[both the game and how bacteria evolves] and fuckass Sharknado come to mind). And it’s just like… my brian. I think the goal is friendship not romance. Wires are getting crossed right now.

Honestly what does having a crush even feel like? Because I think that’s what this is BUT NO ONE EVER EXPLAINS IT WELL SO I CAN’T TELL.

Doesn’t help that when I complain about having a crush to my friends they seem to immediately think I should ask them out. Like no! IF I tell them it’ll be because I seriously just need my brain to move on and I’d probably ask them to reject me before I even tell them. Besides if I have a crush on someone we’re already really good friends and frankly that’s more important!

[elisemochi]

Thinking about that one post I saw in passing way before I made this account that like was a confession blog and the confession was like

"I think Illuminata isn't romanceable because she falls in love with Amber"

or something like that and like the only comment was somebody saying like "ew, how dare you make me look at this"

Anyway I think Illuminata/Amber would be pretty cute