#how do u still have hands jfc

[possum-adjacent]

spamming my boops IS a competition and @aubergine-soda IS winning

[ugh-yoongi]

about u | jjk

❝ this song is about a love that you can’t reconcile—wanting to make a home out of a person that has proved to you time and again that they are not a home; they are just a person. it’s about retracing scars, negative patterns, all with the silent belief that moments of communion and understanding might justify months of misfiring and regret. we’re all just trying to get back to that ‘first high’ feeling—an honest endeavor, however futile. ❞

✤ PAIRING jungkook x f. reader ✤ GENRE exes to fwb to strangers, college/grad school au; angst, smut ✤ RATING explicit. minors do not interact. ✤ WARNINGS toxic & self-destructive behavior (inc. jealousy and possessiveness). infidelity (with an external partner). reader is bisexual (which is not a warning but a general statement so the homophobes stay away) and there is a brief mention of coming out. two people who are both too honest and unable to communicate. swearing. cigarettes and alcohol use. kissing, some spitting, fingering, oral sex, protected vaginal sex. every time i asked jess to read this over for me she always came back with "jfc jewel" so i guess this is angsty. unhappy ending. ✤ WORDCOUNT 7.3k ✤ LISTEN TO this was based off of "winterbreak" by muna, but there are bits and pieces of the entire about u album in here, "everything" and "outro" especially. ✤ THANK YOU to muna for writing the album, @the-boy-meets-evil and @hot-soop for reading over this for me multiple times and putting up with all my brainstorming and my beloved @here2bbtstrash for the extra set of eyes. ✤ AUTHOR'S NOTE hi, thank you for reading! i cannot emphasize enough how much more sense this story will make if you listen to about u in the background. i would also like to reiterate that these two are maybe not all that likeable most of the time, but i hope they're still human. as i once saw in an ao3 tag, you are more than the worst thing you've ever done.

[ the first. ] You’d read an article once—something about the second time you fall in love.

It’s going to feel different, it’d said. The first time felt like a dream.

As you stare across the kitchen at Jeongguk, you think that might be true. The part about it feeling like a dream, because it used to be a pinky-lavender haze and everything that has come after hasn’t felt so good. Not a nightmare, but close. At least with nightmares you can force yourself awake. You can tell yourself it wasn’t real. You can pretend.

This is as real as it gets, watching him smile over the rim of a plastic red cup. Someone else’s hand on his arm. The girl it belongs to looks nothing like you, and you wonder if she’ll be the second time he falls in love. You also wonder why you didn’t stay home. You wonder about fault and regret and if either of them even matter. No, you eventually decide: there’s just you in Taehyung’s kitchen and Jeongguk on the other side of it and the result of a million decisions in between you.

There had been a plenitude of reasons you’d fallen in love with Jeongguk, but he’s undoubtedly beautiful. Soft, tinkling laugh; a smile that reaches his eyes. Not all that long ago you used to be responsible for both, so there’s a lingering, bitter sting beneath your wonder. Jeongguk is beautiful and no longer yours, and that’s enough to have you retreating to the living room.

Jimin’s at your side immediately. Wraps an arm around your shoulders and presses a kiss to the top of your head that does little to alleviate your guilt. Missing someone is always easier with thousands of miles in between you. All those distractions. Just like a nightmare, distance lets you pretend. Not so easy to do when all those ghosts come back to haunt you; when you can still hear Jeongguk’s soft voice in the kitchen. The music is so loud but you’d be able to hear him anywhere, you think.

Even places he’s not.

Jimin leans down, forces his way into your personal space. “Are you doing okay?” he asks, and his words are warm and wrapped in alcohol, but you nod. You’re scared you might start crying if you open your mouth. Afraid of what might come out besides shuddering breaths, which just makes you feel stupid. Baby’s first breakup, you chide yourself. Maybe Jimin can get you a commemorative ornament.

Taehyung is turning twenty-four and it should be joyous. It is joyous. People that aren’t you are laughing and dancing and pressing their cheeks together as they huddle close to take selfies. Someone you don’t recognize is cackling wildly as they wrangle Taehyung into a headlock and smear cake frosting on his face. Someone else is tutting and running a rag under the tap to wipe it off and then the frosting is gone. It’s hard not to draw parallels.

There one minute and gone the next.

Gently wiped away.

But the feeling lingers, doesn’t it? The tack of the frosting, all the love that transpired between you and Jeongguk. Sometimes you fear it’s permanent—not able to be wiped away with a rag run under the tap, not able to be wiped away at all. Just this burden you’re cursed to carry, because Jeongguk isn’t and can’t be yours but knowing does nothing to erase the past. Doesn’t help you forget. It’s fucked and it’s unfair, but that’s just the way it goes.

“I think I should leave,” you say, watching another scene play out in the kitchen. Jeongguk fills a cup and hands it to a different pretty girl. Everyone here is so pretty. Makes sense; so is Taehyung. Pretty people are drawn to one another like that. “Is it too soon? Will it be obvious?”

Jimin sighs, wraps you in a hug. Says, “Oh, love,” in a way that’s too sympathetic. Makes you sound too pathetic. “No one will blame you. These things are hard.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Not that you don’t appreciate Jimin’s reassurance, but sometimes it all feels a bit silly. Weren’t you the one to walk away? Call it off? Are you allowed to mourn the very thing you destroyed?

And Jimin, bless him, is so patient with you. Asks if you need a ride home and you wave him off, remind him your parents’ place isn’t far, that the cold might do you some good. You tell him you appreciate him and his night shouldn’t be ruined on your account, and you just laugh when he tries to protest, tell him to go get himself another drink.

“Text me when you get home,” he says, voice stern, and you brush that off, too. “I’m serious. It’s late and it’s dark and anyone could be out there—”

“Maybe I should walk you home, then?”

All those articles you read about the second time you fall in love didn’t mention this. Said nothing about the way a voice will always be able to turn your world on its axis and how to right it again. Said nothing about how to coexist with ghosts. Said nothing about what to do with all the yearning and the pain and the stupid, selfish strands of hope. There are paragraphs about an overarching, general grief, but nothing about the specific one living inside of you.

The shock on Jimin’s face is reflecting your own. It’s nice to not be the only one caught off-guard and stammering over their words. It’s nice to have a friend when it feels like your entire world is on the edge of collapse. “I don’t…” he begins. Swallows thickly and turns to look at you, an obvious question biting at the back of his teeth.

You know the answer.

You know that what you should say isn’t what you want, just like you know it isn’t fair, this thing you’re doing. Because you turn to Jeongguk and say, “Are you sure?” which might as well be a yes, because you’re selfish and suspended in this liminal space and don’t want him to go home with anyone else. You don’t want him to move on.

He shrugs. “It’s on the way.”

You say okay. Let Jimin help you into your coat, hide his face in your neck as he tells you to be careful, and that stings. You’ve never had to be careful around Jeongguk before. The two of you never, ever hurt one another—until you did. The kind of hurt your heart hasn’t easily forgotten, is still stubbornly clinging to.

Your heart wants Jeongguk, always.

You want Jeongguk, always, so you let him grab your hand, link your pinkies together. You let him lead you out of the house and don’t turn back to see who might be watching. God, you want to, though. Want all those pretty girls to see that he’s leaving with you. Want them to know it’s your name that’s branded on his heart; your name beneath his skin. For once, you want someone to want what you have.

It’s strange. The two of you have been apart for eight months, and there’s a lot of things you might want to tell someone in that amount of time, but you find it hard now. Don’t know where to start, which words to use. Don’t want to say something stupid, because Jeongguk is just walking you home but you’ve assigned a lot of meaning to it, and eight months is a long time to yearn for something and finally get it.

So you say, “You didn’t have to do this, you know,” because it’s something that’s true and easy to say.

Jeongguk doesn’t answer right away. Drops your pinky so he can hold your hand properly—fully, all five fingers intertwined—and squeezes. “Is it weird for you?” he asks, and he doesn’t sound nervous. Almost sounds like he’s smiling a little, giving you shit. He sounds familiar.

“No. I don’t know. Maybe a little.” He asks why? at the same time he passes under a streetlight. Lights up golden and amber. He’s beautiful—“I don’t know. It’s just… I guess it’s just been a long time. We didn’t leave things the best.”—and no longer yours.

The Jeongguk walking beside you is not the same Jeongguk that walked out of your dorm eight months ago, tears staining his cheeks, the smell of a goodbye fuck still clinging to his clothes, his skin, sweat still dotting his hairline. This Jeongguk is sharper, more selfish with his laughter, and you wonder about all the ways heartbreak can change a person. How you’re changed for facilitating it. You wonder if Jeongguk blames you before deciding you’re too much of a coward to find out the answer.

“Was it that bad?” When you look over at him, he’s chewing on his lip ring, trying to bite back a smile. “You’ll have to remind me. I don’t remember.”

You stop walking, jerking forward when Jeongguk is left unaware and keeps going. “That’s not funny,” you say. “Jeongguk, that’s not—I did what I thought was best, okay? I thought I was doing the right thing—”

The smile drops from Jeongguk’s face. “Hey, hey, look at me,” he says, and he’s hesitant to reach out and touch you but he does it anyway. Cups your face in both hands. “I know, it’s okay. That’s just—it’s just life, right? You did what you had to do, babe. It’s okay.”

You did what you had to do, babe.

Did you?

Jeongguk is selfish with his laughter but never his affection, and knowing that feels like an albatross around your neck. You have broken him so entirely, but he’s still kind to you, finds it a worthwhile thing to be.

His eyes go to your lips. Tattooed fingers dimple your face just a little more, dig in deeper. When you dare to take him in, he looks… different. No longer amused, the way he was just seconds ago; now, there’s something dark there. Longing, anger, hunger. Jeongguk looks like he wants to swallow you whole and make you suffer; looks like he wants to cage you beneath him and worship you through the comedown.

I’d let him, you think as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. As you smell the smoke that lingers, the sweat and the alcohol. I’d still let him.

It’d be so easy to press a kiss there. To feel his skin beneath your lips: flushed, still warm from the party, not all daunted by the bitter winter wind biting at your cheeks. As you lean in further, you wonder if it’ll taste the same. You wonder how much can change in eight months and if all those old comforts change, too. If it’s something inevitable.

Jeongguk moves his hands to your waist. Crawls his fingertips beneath your jacket and finds bare skin. Sucks in the smallest bit of air, and you would’ve missed it had it been any other time, but winter is always quiet and subdued. Always smells transitional, something dangerously close to hope and redemption.

And eight months is a long time to miss the feel of someone’s lips, isn’t it, so you think you can be excused for reaching for something you thought you’d never have again.

The first kiss is hesitant, testing; pressed to the spot just beneath his ear. Maybe you don’t know this Jeongguk, but you know the version of him you used to love—the one you still do—and you know the way he’ll sigh. You know the way his hands will grip tighter. You can still hear it, the way you used to kiss him there and he’d say, don’t start something you can’t finish, baby, and the way you’d laugh and always, always finish it. Can still feel the warmth that used to bloom in your chest. The love.

Jeongguk won’t say that now, you know. Wonder if it’d sound more like don’t start something you already finished if he did. He huffs a small laugh, more an exhale than anything, and asks, “What are you doing?”

And you answer, “I don’t know,” because it’s honest. You admit, “I guess I just miss you,” because it’s true.

A war wages within Jeongguk. You can see the storms, the white flags that are close to being thrown out. Can see the way his gaze flits between your lips and your eyes. What he’s looking for, you don’t know, but the storm rages on. And just like real life, just when you think it’s at its worst, there’s a break in the clouds: a tangible beam of silvery-warm light when Jeongguk tangles his hands in your hair, thumbs at the hinge of your jaw. Jeongguk tilts your head back and looks ethereal in the amber glow of the streetlights.

He says, “We shouldn’t,” and you nod, because you know and the anguish on his face is surely mirrored on yours, but when he follows it with, “let me take you home, let me take care of you,” you find it impossible to care.

You nod.

Everything is amber.

Eight months is a long time to go without the way Jeongguk kisses you: intentionally, demandingly, insatiably. He still tastes the same. Tastes like the first time you’d ever dared to kiss him, back at that party freshman year, tongue flavored with cheap liquor. Jeongguk tastes forbidden and feels like coming home.

You couldn’t say how you make it to Jeongguk’s apartment, but the way you stumble over the threshold feels familiar. The way the door is barely locked when Jeongguk crowds your space; picks you up, wraps your legs around his waist, presses you against it, hips moving on their own accord, rutting, all those little sounds spilling from his lips—everything is familiar. This is not just a practiced song and dance but something memorized. Something instinctual. You could be apart from Jeongguk for years instead of months and your body would still know what to do.

He carries you to his bedroom and you don’t think about who else has been between his sheets, because he puts you down so gently. Kisses your lips, your jaw, your neck—all gentle, powder-soft. Sounds like spring when you paw at the velvety cashmere of his sweater, pull it over his head, and he sighs. Feels like he’s breathing fresh life into something he shouldn’t, something long dead, but then you skim along his warm skin and your world is reduced to the way it feels like silk beneath your fingertips.

“I still love you,” Jeongguk whispers against your mouth, his inked fingers toying with the button on your jeans. Pops it open, pulls the denim down your thighs. Doesn’t bother pulling them off, only goes as far as your knees. And it’s uncomfortable, the way it’s bunched there, but the way Jeongguk says, “Fuck, missed you so much,” is so sweet.

Everything happens too fast.

Jeongguk leaves your shirt on. Drags it up and over your breasts and kisses at the newly-exposed skin. Sinks his teeth in, lets it hurt for a second before he laves over the marks. Settles between your legs and coaxes an orgasm out of you with his mouth and his fingers. Speaks his praise into the juncture of your thigh, breathless as he touches himself, strokes his cock with the wetness lingering on his fingers. Looks so, so pretty when he sits back on his haunches and says, “Just wanna look at you,” and makes it sound wistful and longing.

Makes it sound like it means something.

He’s still touching himself, still slicking himself up. There’s a split second where he goes to move and thinks better of it. Looks to the side before looking back at you. The storm kicks up again. “Have—” he begins before he swallows thickly. Dares to look hopeful, even through the squall. “Have you been with anyone else? Since…?”

You haven’t. Tried to, once—another stupid party, more cheap liquor passed to your mouth from someone else’s, but it hadn’t gone anywhere. They hadn’t tasted like Jeongguk; hadn’t felt the same. Two puzzle pieces that fit together all wrong.

Jeongguk has, though. Something you’d heard from a friend of a friend that you weren’t meant to. They’d called it a rebound, and it had bloomed so many ugly thoughts in your head. Five months had passed. Jeongguk was fucking someone else in his bed while you were in yours, torturing yourself over whether or not to tell him happy birthday. Whether it was allowed to or not, it’d stung.

(You had. You’d reworded the text a million times, plucked up all the courage you could find before you sent it. It’d gone unanswered, just like you expected it would, and you thought it was because Jeongguk didn’t want to talk to you. Thought you were digging your fingers into wounds that had yet to heal, so it’d stung but you understood.

But Jeongguk hadn’t answered because he was fucking someone else. Had someone else’s taste on his tongue; was panting someone else’s name into the dark. The embarrassment had been the worst part.)

Still does, if you’re being honest with yourself, so you lie. “I—yeah,” you answer. “Just one.”

Looks like it stings Jeongguk, too. “Right,” he responds, blinking back tears, and he’s got a lot of nerve, you think. “Yeah, okay, I’ll just—a condom. Are you…”

“Jeongguk—”

“Are you sure? Maybe this isn’t…” He huffs. Drops the condom on the bed, hangs his head. “What are we doing?”

You stare up at the ceiling. Nothing up there but the swirls in the plaster. “I don’t know,” you admit. “Hurting each other, probably.”

Jeongguk walks his fingers down your thigh. Grips at your skin, wants it to bruise. Wants you to have something to remember him by come morning. “Sometimes I’m really mad at you, you know?”

“Yeah, trust me, I know.”

He nods. Refuses to look you in the eye now that you’re watching him. “I still love you so fucking much and I’m still so angry. What am I supposed to do with that? What am I… fuck, I thought I was over it. I thought I’d see you and not feel a fucking thing.” There’s fresh ink on the back of his left hand. You hadn’t noticed it earlier, but you notice it now, when he runs his hands down his face.

You also notice the way the atmosphere shifts, the split second in which his heartache bleeds into something else—resolve, maybe. Obstinacy. Like he knows how this is going to end and he’s going to do it anyway. He’s going to find the most painful part and press on it, dig his fingers in, and it’s just an inevitable, foregone thing. Something he can prevent and something he’s choosing not to.

“You fucked someone else,” he sneers. Rips the foil open with his teeth, flashing too white in the dark of his bedroom. Rolls the condom on like it’s an inconvenience. Like you’re an inconvenience. “Was it good? Was it worth it?”

You roll your eyes. Feel the way your breath catches in your throat, because you’re not going to cry. Jeongguk fucked someone else and is vilifying you and it’s hypocritical and ugly and unfair, but you’re not going to cry over it. You’re going to press the gas pedal as far as it can go, say, “Yeah, it was,” and find some wicked delight in the way his eyes squeeze shut, as if it can spare him from the pain.

The two of you used to love each other. Jeongguk used to smile down at you when you were naked beneath him like this. Used to lean in close and whisper that he loved you just as he pushed inside even though you knew, you could feel it in everything he did. Now, there’s no smile. Now, he leans down and spits on your pussy and pushes inside and doesn’t tell you a goddamn thing.

Not with words, anyway.

Because the way he fucks you says it all. Impersonal, desperate, bitter. He grips your hips and fucks into you frenzied and fast. Takes your hand and puts it on your clit and tells you to get yourself off. An inconvenience. Tells you he misses your tight cunt, tells you he misses the way it milks his cock, tells you he misses watching the way you come undone underneath him, but he doesn’t tell you he misses you.

There’s a moment, just after he spills into the condom and stays inside, just catching his breath, when you think he might say it. Might tell you he loves you around the lump in his throat, might apologize, might ask if you two can’t figure it out.

There’s only a moment.

Jeongguk doesn’t say anything. Lets the moment pass. Pulls out and ties off the condom and wordlessly gets up to throw it away. It’s the silence that pisses you off. The disregard. Jeongguk hates you for something you’d lied about doing that he’d done for real, so you can be wordless, too. You can treat him like an inconvenient, cheap fuck, too. You can get up and find your clothes and pull them on and let him watch, words biting at the back of his teeth, and you can tell yourself to feel nothing.

You can say, “You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve,” and not shy away from the resentment in your voice, because it’s properly placed. “You fucked someone else, too, so you’ve got a lot of fucking nerve, Jeongguk.”

Eight months is a long time to miss someone, to play at daydreams. To think of all the things you want to say, the things you’ll do. In not one of them did you think about this: you, fully dressed and stinking of sex, saying, “It’s late. I’ll show myself out.”

Jeongguk, tears glistening on his cheeks, saying, “No, let me—baby, I’m sorry, please—I’ll drive you.”

A shake of your head. Jeongguk doesn’t push it.

Roll credits.

[ the second. ] Jimin wants to talk your ear off about it—the girl you’re seeing.

It’s new and there isn’t much to say. You tell him the two of you met at one of the student showcases put on by the art department and leave off the part about all of Jeongguk’s old friends being there, that he would’ve participated, too, if he hadn’t dropped out after you broke his heart. Leave off the part where you would’ve been there to support him instead, in another life. Leave off the part where it’d just been morbid curiosity: you, not an art student, wandering those halls to see if Jeongguk’s photographs were still framed on the wall.

“Is she nice?” Jimin asks, head nearly knocking into yours as someone shoves by him. “Fucking asshole.”

You nod. “Why would I date someone that wasn’t nice?”

Jimin, perpetually unbothered until he decidedly isn’t, sends you a look that he hides behind the rim of his cup. “Because you’re in your self-destruction era and aren’t thinking clearly.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“Exactly what I said. You know I’m happy if you’re happy, but…” He pauses as he trails off. Tries to wrap his words in something delicate. “It’s pretty clear you still aren’t over it. That’s all.”

You snort. “That’s all?” you repeat, like it’s some small thing. Like it’s normal and fine.

“I’m sure it’s easier to pretend when the two of you are thousands of miles apart,” Jimin amends, and he must see how you bristle, stung by the callout, because his eyes soften. “Tell me about her.”

She’s beautiful and kind and smart. Smokes clove cigarettes and the smell is always clinging to her skin. You know how to make her come but don’t know what she’s majoring in—fashion, you think, because she’s always holding fabric swatches against your skin. Tells you what suits you and what doesn’t. Tells you which textures don’t work, what’s too warm, and she doesn’t need to tell you what’s too cold because you already know it’s you.

She’s beautiful and kind and smart and has no idea you’re still in love with someone else.

But you can’t tell Jimin that, can you? Can’t tell him about how she’d dragged you to a private corner in the gallery and kissed you breathless; the way she made you come on her fingers; the way Jeongguk’s name nearly slipped out of your mouth as you shook. Can’t tell him that she’s got arms full of art. Delicate patchwork; nothing like the harsh, bold colors inked into Jeongguk’s skin, but it feels the same to trace the lines.

You can’t tell him much of anything, so what you settle on is, “She’s nice—good for me,” and it doesn’t sound convincing to either of you.

Jimin doesn’t call you on it, though. Not again. Instead, he keeps his gaze steady, staring into the fire, the flames dancing wildly when you meet his eye. “You need to be careful,” he says. “You’re going to hurt her, too. Maybe worse than you hurt him.”

“Jimin—”

“Just be careful,” he reiterates, and all you can do is nod. What else is there to do besides wait for the inevitable crash and burn?

And it’s a little unfair, you think, that Taehyung grows older every single year. A little unfair that guilt won’t let you decline the invitations. A little unfair that you can still pick Jeongguk’s laughter out of a crowd. A little unfair that these hometown friends-turned-acquaintances still throw sideways glances whenever someone else touches him, as if he still has someone to answer to; as if they’re expecting something.

An hour. You’ve survived an hour longer than you did last year, and it’s not much but you’re still proud of yourself. You’ve had a drink, talked to someone other than Jimin. Managed to ignore the way Jeongguk is ignoring you; the way he immediately leaves a room as soon as you enter.  Maybe it’s better like this, you reckon. Maybe it’s what you need.

An hour is long enough. Jimin doesn’t comment on the way your bones crack when you stand to leave. No one needs a reminder of growing older. He doesn’t ask if you’ll be okay, either; if you need a ride home. Instead, he stays quiet as he studies you, clearly wondering if lightning strikes twice. If you’re going to be able to walk past Jeongguk and out the door without making another mistake.

You can at least make it across Taehyung’s sprawling yard and to the house. You can dodge the sweat-slick bodies and the girls sitting in laps. You can toss your empty cup in an overflowing trash can. You can pretend the eyes on your back are well-intentioned.

You can make it to the bathroom.

Annoying, the way your phone has been vibrating all night only to disappoint you. Irrational. You scroll past the emoji-laden messages, the coy flirting, because they’re from the person you’re actually dating—the person you told you were going to sleep early—and not from Jeongguk. You should feel guilty. You should feel guilty, but the face staring back at you in the mirror doesn’t look guilty at all.

She looks tired. A little beat-down, but that’s life.

Maybe that’s just what happens when you’ve spent the last two years of your life chasing after ghosts.

A knock at the door startles you. Sends your phone tumbling to the floor, screen probably cracked to hell, and you swear under your breath. “Just a minute!” you call out, a little stunned from how threadbare you feel all of a sudden.

Still, the knocking continues, and you’re on your knees on this bathroom floor and all you want to do is cry. You don’t want to be on this floor in this house. You don’t want to keep putting in the effort of maintaining the facades of all these friendships. You don’t want to keep coming back to this town, don’t want to keep being confronted with the harsh reality of all your mistakes.

“Just a fucking min—”

The words die on your tongue, because there Jeongguk stands, all the air in your lungs dissipating at the amount of space he takes up. Even worse when he steps inside and locks the door behind him. You feel like you’re going to drown. You feel like you’re going to scream or cry or both, and you’re still on the floor, still on your knees, and it feels too much like penance when you look up at him. Feels like you’re groveling, praying for forgiveness.

You stand quickly, ignoring the rush of blood to your head, the way your legs tingle. Jeongguk still hasn’t said a word, doesn’t seem like that’s going to change, either, and it’s really all you can do to stay on your feet when everything in you is screaming to collapse.

Eventually, he says, “You’re seeing someone,” and it isn’t a question, not really, but it borders on one. It’s a question and a confirmation and somehow sounds a lot like he’s asking for permission for something.

“I—yeah.” You swallow. “It’s new.”

He hums. Steps a little closer. Leans against the sink. Darts out his tongue to swipe at his bottom lip before he tugs his lip ring between his teeth. “Yeah? Does he treat you well?”

“She,” you correct, and there’s a flash of something in his eyes. Surprise, maybe. Jeongguk, at one point, had known everything about you, but not this. “And yeah,” you add on, barely a whisper, “she does.”

Part of you feels embarrassed. Jeongguk had known everything about you but not this, and you shouldn’t feel embarrassed or guilty but it still sits there in the middle of your chest. Feels like you’ve been keeping secrets. Feels like shame, even though you aren’t ashamed. Feels like you’re awaiting judgment. But the surprise in Jeongguk’s eyes disappears and something else settles in its place—uncertainty, if you had to guess.

“Are you happy with her?”

You shrug. “Like I said, it’s new.”

And Jeongguk is as emulous as ever, because he asks, “Does it feel like what we had?” and you already know the answer is no.

“I’m not sure anything will.”

It’s honest; you hadn’t said it to appease him, but he looks pleased anyway. You’re starting to understand why so many people write about their first love. Why it’s such a powerful role to fill. Because you and Jeongguk are standing in a bathroom behind a locked door, feet apart from one another, and you think, I don’t think there’s anyone I will ever love more than him even though it’s been two years. You think, I don’t think I’ll ever recover from this.

You think, I would try over and over and over again if he asked me to.

Later on, when you’re alone in your childhood bed and your face is streaked with tears, only your shame and guilt for company, you won’t be able to figure out who moved first, but one of you had.

Once upon a time, you had known everything about Jeongguk, too. You could recite his taste from memory, but it’s different this time. He licks into your mouth and it tastes like ash—nothing like the clove cigarettes your girlfriend smokes, but close enough that the parallel burns like acid in your throat. It’s close enough that you can keep your eyes shut and pretend again.

This time there’s no softness to be found. There’s just Jeongguk’s mouth pressed to yours, barely letting you breathe, not wanting anyone to hear. There’s just the sink digging into your back. Jeongguk’s hands gripping at your waist, pulling at the hem of your skirt. There’s the frustration and desperation of two people who love each other but will never, ever get it right.

There’s Jeongguk asking, as he spits into his hand and slicks you up, if you’re going to tell her.

There’s you, already too far gone, saying you don’t know.

There’s Jeongguk asking, as you’re clenching around him and dragging him with you to the edge, if you’d come back to him if he asked you to.

There’s you, already knowing the answer to this, too, saying you would.

But this isn’t that and Jeongguk doesn’t ask. When it’s over, he tosses the condom and does a half-assed job of helping you clean up and he doesn’t ask. He splashes water on his face and fixes his hair and he doesn’t ask. He tucks his cock back into his briefs and zips his jeans and he doesn’t ask.

Jeongguk has one hand on the doorknob and he doesn’t ask you to come back. Instead, he asks, “How long are you gonna keep doing this?”

For once, you don’t have an answer.

[ the third. ] You go even farther away for grad school.

You try to put more distance between you and Jeongguk, more distance between you and all the skeletons in your closet, but you just pack them up in different boxes and bring them with you.

You spend New Year’s Eve chain-smoking in your parents’ back yard—that same brand of clove cigarettes, because hearts are easy to break but some habits are not. Sometimes it’s a comfort to hurt yourself in the same way you hurt others, so you chain-smoke and you don’t go to to Taehyung’s birthday party because you weren’t invited and it doesn’t sting in the same way that it doesn’t sting that Jimin doesn’t call you once you’re home because he hasn’t spoken to you in a year.

The clock ticks down to midnight. Someone sets off fireworks. Absolutely nothing changes.

There are no half-baked resolutions. There’s no hope that this is going to be the year you get your shit together. There’s just you and the bed you’ve made for yourself; the autopilot you can’t—won’t—turn off, because you don’t know where you’re going anyway so you might as well just go wherever it’s taking you. There’s guilt and there’s shame and there’s baggage, but they’re all old friends. Those are old scars.

The sweatshirt you’re wearing doesn’t belong to you, and it does little to protect you from the bitter cold that bites at your skin. Jeongguk doesn’t belong to you, either, but he keeps coming back to you like he does.

“Mind if I sit down?”

You shrug, gesturing to the empty chair beside you. The small fire you’d built is down to its last embers, and it’s what you focus on, because you can’t focus on Jeongguk anymore.

“You weren’t at Tae’s.”

“Wasn’t invited.”

“Oh,” he breathes. “Sorry, I didn’t know. I would’ve—”

“It’s fine. I wouldn’t have gone anyway.”

He seems to hear what you don’t say. I wouldn’t have gone because I can’t be around you anymore. I wouldn’t have gone because I don’t trust myself with you. I wouldn’t have gone because I’ve burned down every good thing in my life trying to keep you. “Oh. Yeah, that—that makes sense.”

He’d texted you. Asked if he could see you. Just wanted to talk, and you’ve never cared much for symbolism, but nearing midnight on New Year’s Eve had seemed as good a time as any to let it go, so you’d said yes. Now, when there isn’t much to say, all of Jeongguk’s flimsy excuses are laid bare. Transparent.

“Was Jimin there?”

Jeongguk nods. “You didn’t know?”

You shake your head. Feels like it’s made of concrete. “No. We haven’t talked since last winter break.”

“Because of—”

How cruel, that you’d confessed to Jimin instead of the one person who deserved to know. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

You shrug again. “It’s okay. I don’t think it’s permanent, just until I can get my shit together, I guess. Wasn’t fair to drag him into my mess anyway.”

“It’s not that easy,” Jeongguk says, and it sounds like something he wants to be true. It sounds like something he’s said countless times in defense of himself. “We’d—I’d do it if I could.”

“Yeah,” you agree, “of course.”

Silence creeps up again, so you dig another cigarette out of the pack and offer one to Jeongguk that he waves away. “Cloves? That’s a weird choice.”

“Just something I picked up along the way.”

He hears you again: They’re what she used to smoke. It helps me heal to hurt myself with something that reminds me of her. Sometimes I chain-smoke clove cigarettes and I don’t wash the smell from my hands, my clothes, my hair, because it makes me feel less alone.

So he asks, “Was it real?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you answer, flicking the wheel of your lighter, words spoken around the cigarette stuck between your lips. “It never had a chance. Not a real one, anyway.”

“Do your parents know?”

“Know what? That I went away to college and started fucking women?” Jeongguk shrugs. Has the audacity to look embarrassed. “What are you trying to ask me? You wanna know if I keep coming back to you because I’m scared to come out to my parents?”

“No. I don’t know. I just—”

The laugh that escapes you is scorched and bitter. Sounds the way the tobacco tastes. “No, Jeongguk. I keep coming back to you because I keep hoping you’ll ask me to.” I keep hoping you still want me.

“I almost did,” he admits, and you can hear how he swallows around the lump in his throat. “The first time.”

“When you were a dick about me sleeping with someone else? Yeah, okay. You didn’t want me back, you just didn’t want me to be with anyone else.”

He huffs. “How the fuck do you know what I want? You’ve never bothered to ask.”

“Because it doesn’t matter,” comes your response, stilted and practiced. “It doesn’t matter what we want, because we’re just going to keep hurting one another trying to get it right.” You suck in a breath, wipe furiously at the tears on your cheeks. “And we’re never going to.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Then ask.” Jeongguk startles, looks at you with wide eyes. “Ask me to come back for real, Jeongguk, and I will.”

A beat of silence.

Two, three, four.

Someone sets off another round of fireworks. A dog barks. It’s so cold that you can see Jeongguk’s breath each time he exhales, each time he breathes out instead of speaking. All the words he isn’t saying. And it’s exactly how you knew it would go, but it does nothing to tamp down the devastation in your chest.

You’d confessed your transgressions to Jimin and thought your silence to your ex-girlfriend was a gift, that it was sparing her the pain of what you’d done. Now you understand that someone’s silence can be the most vicious thing of all.

[ the last. ] Graduation looms. It’s the last winter break you’re spending at home.

Your therapist suspects you get your compartmentalism from your parents.

They don’t mention it. They see the stack of boxes and your bare bedroom walls and they don’t say a word about any of it. They watch you pack everything in your car and don’t offer to help. They process their grief silently, and when you can’t stand it anymore, you say, “I dated a woman my senior year of undergrad, you know.”

They don’t say anything to that, either, but it feels good to tell them. Feels a little like freedom and reclamation, like you can be who you are in front of others.

When you leave for good, you don’t want to repackage all those same skeletons.

So you meet Jimin for lunch and you take it in stride that everything is weird, that there’s nearly two years of silence to fill. You don’t ask for forgiveness and he doesn’t demand it of you, just asks if you’re doing better. “I’m doing the best I can,” you answer, and it’s human and honest enough that he accepts it with a warm smile.

Jeongguk is more difficult.

There’s no way to neatly box up that kind of baggage.

You’d intended to stop by his apartment to talk, tell him you aren’t coming back anymore. There’s nothing left here for you, you’d told him, and there was a flash of something. A there’s me, isn’t there? that had gone unsaid, destined for the same fate as a million other unspoken words between you.

Because there is him, but there’s also the way you’re desperately trying to claw back into something resembling normalcy. You’d lost yourself when you also lost Jeongguk, and you need to figure out who you are without him. You need to know who you are once you stop running and let your demons catch up with you. You need to hear what they have to say.

Maybe Jeongguk had said it best last year—“It’s not that easy. I’d do it if I could.”—because you’re nothing if not predictable and self-destructive.

You’re nothing if not naked and on your back beneath him, your fingers threaded through his hair as he rocks his hips into you, more tender than you deserve. His lips are ghosting along your skin and every press feels like a brand. Feels like he’s both making a mockery of you and declaring you ruined for anyone who might come after him. Feels like you’ll love him until you die.

(Some version of you must exist outside of Jeongguk’s grasp—outside of his orbit, his bed—but right now, as he twines your fingers together and pins them above your head, you can’t figure out who she might be.)

Eight months had been a long time to think of all the things you wanted to say, and four years is worse. Four years, and you still can’t bring yourself to ask him to try again, but there’s nothing after this, nothing to lose, so your voice is hoarse and raw when you say, “Jeongguk,” and he groans a little, nips at the column of your throat because he loves the way you say his name. “Jeongguk,” you repeat, because he senses the urgency, hears what you aren’t saying.

“Yeah, baby, say it. Whatever it is, tell me.”

He rolls his hips faster. Before, he would’ve tried to prolong the ending, but he’s hurtling towards it now. There’s nothing after this, you know, but you need the confirmation. You need to finally put all of this to rest. “I want to—” His cock strokes someplace that whites out your vision. “Fuck, want to—want you to come with me.”

He laughs, full of himself, probably smirking out the side of his mouth. “Keep squeezing me like that and I will soon.”

“No,” you insist, shocked at the conviction in your voice, “when I leave. Come with me.”

Everything slows. Jeongguk pulls back, moves his hands to cover himself, and there’s nothing but cold confusion in his absence. “What?”

“I didn’t ask you before. Last year. I just—I left it up to you, and you’re right, I didn’t ask what you wanted, but I didn’t tell you what I wanted, either. But I’m telling you now. I’m asking—”

There was never going to be anything after this.

Jeongguk’s silence says it all.

The way he pulls out and rolls you onto your stomach. The way he fucks as fast and as hard as he can. The way he used to love you openly and honestly and now holds whatever’s left close to his chest like it’s something to be ashamed of.

Someone’s silence can always be the most vicious thing of all.

Roll credits.

thank you so much for reading, and an additional thank you in advance if you decide to reblog my work. as always, my inbox is always open for any feedback! ♡

[bluemantics]

Fic recs ask! Do you have anything vanon divergent/post canon in those bookmarks? thank youuu

ANON I AM LITERALLY THE POST-CANON FAN OF ALL TIME. i got u covered! thank you for this ask <3

1. Scars by crazyrandomhappenklance

Pining | T+ | 1.1K

Lance never forgot the bonding moment he had with Keith; how could he? He also carries the memory of it permanently on his back. He’s kept those scars and memories hidden for years, but one day he was bound to slip up. What is he still so scared of?

2. Longing by Isas_Identitty

Fix-it | E | 17K

After a sudden one-night-stand during the One-Year Anniverssary celebration of the end of the war, Lance and Keith start having a kind of friends with benefits arrangement. Keith is happy to not to get more than that, knowing Lance must still be feeling heartbroken after his relationship with Allura, but the more time he spends with him and is accepted by his family, the harder it gets to hold back his own feelings.

3. hey mom, i met a boy by disasteralex

Fix-it | T+ | 9.5K

The war was hard. Its end is even harder. But when Lance breaks, Keith and the others are there to help him heal.

Somewhere along the way, Keith finds his place in the universe, Shiro gets his happy ending, and Lance learns to fall in love again.

4. sick day by starlightment

Married | T+ | 1.8K

Lance catches a cold, and Keith does his absolute best.

5. the simplicity of forever by Silverine

Established relationship | T+ | 3.5K

It's almost Instructor Lance McClain's birthday, and he wants this one to be an epic celebration in his new house, with all his friends, family, and of course, his boyfriend.

But Keith had to pick this birthday to act all mysterious and unpredictable, right?

6. 'Tis the Season for Conspiracies by Reader115

Getting together | T+ | 10K

While on a relief mission, Keith insists on several Christmastime traditions after he’s hit by an alien substance that seems to have made him fall in love with Christmas

7. collide the spaces that divide us by skyestiel

Pining | T+ | 4K

“Team leaders.” Keith repeats the phrase, haltingly, and looks to Lance.

“Well, the leader and his right-hand man.”

A smile softens Keith’s features. “I’ve always liked the sound of that. ‘The leader and his right-hand man.’”

8. Say Yes To The Mess by AstroLatte

Fluff | G | 4.2K

Keith wants to sweep Lance off his feet with his proposal, that is if he doesn't get himself killed first.

ANYWAYS I hope y'all enjoy this list! I tried to rec some that were decently known alongside a bunch that weren't, and avoided all my fics that have, like, 20K or more hits. JFC klancers are crazy. I LOVE post-canon and will definitely end up reccing more fics that include this au in the future <3

[sparklingcid3r]

can u hc darrel dropping pony off at college? like the driver there? and then darry having to drive back alone and all the emotions/thoughts tht come w it?

Jfc yall are brutal…. gimme more🙏 It’s so “Slipping Through My Fingers” coded somebody needs to hit me with their car

- Soda and Darry helping Pony pack was definitely an affair. Soda’s trying to give Pony hand-me-downs and Darry’s saying he’s not gonna need all those clothes, and besides, Soda needs those anyway

- Pony defers to Darry for the most part, seeing as he spent at least some time in college, even though he never finished the first semester

- Pony says bye to Soda and he gives Pony the most soul-crushing hug, messes up his hair and gushes about how proud they are of him. Darry just grins and leads Pony to the truck, all their bags in hand, which isn’t a lot, so move-in will be easy

- Pony’s a nervous wreck on the car ride there. He’s fidgeting with the windows, turning the radio on and off, biting his nails, shifting in his seat. The farther they get from home the less ready he feels

- Darry is quiet, but he’s trying to give Pony a good pep talk the way their dad did for him. He tells Pony that he’s doing a great thing, they’re all so proud of him back home, he’s got amazing things ahead of him. Opportunities will come that he didn’t think were possible, so long as he keeps on top of his studies and goes to class.

- He doesn’t think he did a very good job at getting that across, though

- Once they get into a comfortable rhythm, they start talking about all the memories they have of their parents and each other: Pony tells Darry about the first time he kissed a girl and Darry tells Pony about the first time he got drunk. How Pony used to toddle behind Soda when he had just learned how to walk, and how Soda loved it until two hours later he was still following him. Then he locked Pony in his room with a chair under the doorknob

- They’re just dudes being bros for the most part, trying not to think about how all of their childhoods are finally over

- When the silence grows again, all Pony can think about is how young Darry really was when all of it went down and he had to take care of them, plus the gang. Pony doesn’t think he could have done it. He thinks he would have given up if he was in Darry’s spot. He looks at his brother, then back down at his hands

- When they get there, Pony finally tells him that. And that he’s sorry for making it more difficult than it had to be

- But Darry says he’d do it all again in a heart beat, if it meant he got to keep his brothers under his roof

- Pony gives him one last hug, but Darry hugs him harder. He can’t stop himself from messing up Pony’s hair one last time, for old time’s sake

- And then they realize that Pony’s really going to be away from home for a while, until fall break, and that’s a few months away. So this is it

- Pony says he’ll call, and Darry and Soda will call, and that’s all they can really do now

- Darry leaves Pony in the dorms, gets in the car, and is alone with himself, without anyone to look after, for the first time in four years

- He doesn’t have any direction in life anymore. Is he going to spend the rest of his life and health roofing houses and bookkeeping? Even Soda is getting ready to pack up and move out, granted he’s sticking around, but Darry knows about his grand plans of moving to Texas eventually

- Is Darry going to be the only one left in Tulsa? He was so close, too. But those chances are over. He doesn’t think he could ever go back to school. Maybe if he hadn’t spent the last five years breaking his body and wearing himself down. He can still lay someone out with one punch, don’t get him wrong, but being useful is ingrained into him. Is a college degree enough for him to work towards if it’s not helping his brothers?

- God, when was the last time he did anything for himself?

- His thoughts wander off to his brothers, and now that it’s over, he’s wondering if he did enough for them. Sure, they weren’t always living comfortably—they didn’t have any lights for two weeks at one point, near the beginning, and Darry was up to his neck in stress and grief and frustration—but they were happy. Darry thinks they were happy. Were they? He doesn’t think he’s ever asked

- He’s not sure what their parents would think of him if they saw what he did to their family. He got them both to eighteen, even if he couldn’t do the same for Johnny or Dally. He’s getting them out of Tulsa, watching them go farther than he ever would, so maybe he didn’t disappoint them completely

- Darry grips the wheel just a little harder. No, he wasn’t lying. He would do it all again in a heart beat, if Pony and Soda needed him to. They’d know where to find him

Starting to wonder if we even like Darry w the amount of misery yall want me to put him thru🙏 i like my men in constant turmoil tho what can i say 🤷‍♀️

[foundfam2754]

S17e6 live reactions!

Spoilers...obviously

i'm kinda nervous to watch this because i saw someone's post on e6 before this on garvez and they weren't happy... let's see because we're def getting pen and luke interaction this ep bc of the whole tyler ex gf thing

i'm like 95% confident that this is a dream...

okay def a dream because luke is hurt

reminds me of that dream spence had close to the end of s15

what a strange song to have emily sing

okay even dream dead emily is sad :( bring her back from the dead pls (again)

yep... dream

poor papa pasta :(

emily singing will haunt me forever

i like how CM can be scary when it wants to be

aw even after 20 years, emily, jj and pen will be my favorite trio

OH MY GOD rossi's really feeling the trauma

wait this is so sad :(

you're not fine, dave. none of you are fine. PG had the right idea leaving the BAUwh

jj what are you getting at????? luke? i kinda wish it was about luke, but i knew it was about emily

beige, wasting time, and bad kissing?? why is that so penelope garcia coded?

god jj just takes care of everyone but herself, mamabear!jj is my fav

Penelope, pls don't be jealous, he's not worth it

how are garvez so normal after last week? at least their friendship is never in question

why is it awkward luke? because you're in love with pen?

okay i don't mind me some greencia banter, but they did NOT date

jfc dave needs a therapist

aww tara's the best man

kinda love the team knows each other so well, they can talk and listen without words. it's kinda beautiful

OH MY GOD i kinda predicted what tara said about "sitting quietly"

you're safe dave, we promise. we all love u

jj don't make it darker i can barely see the show as it is

i love high!emily, man

i will be using emily's chopsticks trick going forward

"delicious but insufferable" is my new catchphrase

"emily elizabeth prentiss"

super hot latino/a is penelope's type too ;)

damn pen's is roasting him and i kinda love it

i like the parallel of garvez interrogating teresa and tyler about the relationship - i know they have different purposes for doing so, but in my opinion still keeps them connected in a way - so i'll take what i can get

tara's right

luke looks so impressed and kinda turned on by pen's hacking primer - i love it; i know it's just adam, not scripted, but i appreciate that kirsten and adam keep us happy and delulu

"new friend"

i just realized this is the ultimate love square (pen, luke, teresa, tyler)

WHY are you talking about the "sticky chemistry"

penelope's a lot mature than she's acting about this, i mean they are all in their 30-40's and should be able to be honest about their FEEELINGS

god I love how much luke hates tyler

chaotic emily is kinda terrifying

"just run through the field and catch all that rye" HAHAH FUCKING LOVE YOU EMILY

emily you know she loves cheetos why would you leave them out

lmao high!jj

oh this is the elevator scene from the trailer where the walls collapse in

this show can be very scary when it wants to be (hasn't been for me in a while because i rewatch and know what's gonna happen)- and I like that they're leaning into it

lol are they hinting that they were both attracted to tyler because they have grief-related trauma and he's a good, desperate short-term solution

oh my god they were not dating

OH MY GOD I LOVE THAT LUKE AND TYLER HATE EACH OTHER

sir, agent alvez sir, need i remind you that only 7 years ago you were also the lone wolf type?

"rattle off a list of your victims you know, besides penelope and teresa" GO OFF LUKE ALVEZ OMG

this is weirdly hot

"ever take matters into your own hands, luke?" is that a thinly-veiled comment about the fact that everyone knows about his feelings but he is yet to do anything about it yet? or am i too much of a garvez shipper and i'm reading garvez into every pen or luke interaction on this show

aw ex bf and boyf bonding!

"who have you pissed off recently?" lol besides you lukey?

why is voit doing sit-ups? man, he is weird

why don't they call him "Lee?" i feel like it would affect him more

62!?

god voit's a good profiler

elias has strong daddy issues and i think he needs dave's approval

what is he repressing? krystall?

oh my god voit's such a good villain

yeah man, don't date tyler if you don't want your trust violated or safety threateneed

oh my god are jj and em gonna fight?

no don't tease a relationship between teresa and luke please i can't

OMG, we finally got a GARVEZ confession!!!

"she knows i love her" luke you're breaking my heart, he sounded so sad :(

but also --- does she know? y'all never said it... and she needs the words said to her. she's not great with subtext, luke

i love that teresa's not letting him excuse his feelings or his inaction

GOD NO DO NOT DATE EACH OTHER I CAN'T TAKE LUKE DATING SOMEONE ELSE RIGHT NOW PLS

no elias, you ARE a fan boy

"honestly" "trust me" those words don't mean anything coming from you elias

god guys you're so much smarter than him, please stop trusting him PLEASE

"this was fun, dave!" god elias just likes fucking with them

yay!! tyler character development

i simultaneously love and hate this tyler / luke bromance

"we are stronger than anyone gives us credit for" YES SO TRUE I LOVE THESE TWO WITH ALL MY HEART

"it gives me you" aw, jemily fans are gonna lose their mind aren't they, but also they're my fav bff duo

"let's fucking go" LOVE YOU EMILY SO HARD

wtf teresa; oh my god this love square is going to kill me

"north star is us, the BAU" DAMN that's powerful

[togamest]

HELLO ARIIII🤭 could i maybe have first times with kakucho? it doesnt have to be virginity loss, it can be just your first time together but i leave the choice to you🫶 maybe have him a bit on the more vulnerable side/insecure side at first?

-> you’re new to this, aren’t you? | 2,001 words. afab!reader, vulnerable!kakucho, slight angst/hurt + comfort vibes, cunnilingus (reader!receiving), fingering (reader!receiving), reader teaches kakucho how to eat (their) pussy basically, reader calls kakucho "baby, kakucho calls reader "pretty baby", haitani slander bc i can never leave ran and rindou alone ever lmfao

a/n: snow u know i love a good vulnerable big man concept <3 i hope i did this well for u!! i know i like to write kakucho as being experienced but having you be his first real relationship and wanting to teach him is so sexy of him :( god i wanna suck the skin off him jfc

“You’re new to this, aren’t you?”

You feel Kakucho’s breath still in his chest, his hands freezing on your skin. His eyes are wide, pupils blown, but his white teeth flash as he gnaws at his bottom lip. He doesn’t have to say it, but you can sense what he means. I am new to this. Nobody’s ever wanted me like this before.

It stings in your chest, the realization, and you reach up to cup his cheeks, brushing your thumb across the scar winding along the side of his face. He flinches, but you don’t stop.

“Hey. Talk to me.”

His breath is ragged when he finally sucks oxygen in, and he looks at you pointedly, hands firm on your chest, grasping your breasts tightly as if they’ll keep him from floating away. As if they’ll keep him grounded with whatever he’s about to say.

“S-Sorry, I—”

“Don’t apologize, Kaku. It’s okay, baby.”

Another ragged breath. “Thank you. I-I am new to this, just…I’ve done things before but not with someone who- someone who loves me like you love me and I’m…I’m scared of fucking up.”

His voice grows smaller and quieter as he continues on with his confession, and he moves away from you, attempting to cover his face with his hands, leaving you cold from the sudden loss of body heat. You follow him, though, connected to him like a magnet as you grasp his hands, moving them away from his face. There’s a rage within you, aggressively boiling up as his words sink in.

You and Kakucho were relatively new to the whole sex thing. YOu’d had plenty of partners before, and Kakucho had not; there wasn’t exactly a lot of time to get down and dirty when you’re in a gang; although the Haitanis seemed to disprove that statement, but then again, it’s also the Haitanis.

You’d suggested it today, when you were feeling a little frisky, and he’d approached you gently, removing your shirt and bra expertly, but in actually doing anything beyond kissing, he seemed to fumble and be very insecure about his movements. It almost felt like someone had scolded him into telling him he didn’t do anything right; which wasn’t true, he did know what he was doing on a basic level, but he just needed some fine-tuning.

It makes you angry to know there was someone, or multiple someones, who used the man sitting before you; not teaching him how to pleasure someone properly, or not caring about him enough to bother. Or, even worse, not being intimate with him in a way where he had a chance to gain experience in the first place. The man who’d do anything for you, who makes you dinner on a rough day, who covers the chores when all you want to do is rot in bed all day, who is always there to dry your tears and hold you.

You’d do the same for him, of course. That’s what you’re doing now as you drag him into your embrace, pressing his face into your chest. He takes a deep breath again, and you feel something wet against your skin. You can tell he’s crying; you coo at him, running your nails along his buzz cut, pressing kisses against his temple and scalp and anywhere you can reach as you lay back down, refusing to let him go and run off and isolate himself.

“It’s okay, I promise it’s okay,” you repeat over and over, like a mantra in his ear as he silently cries, tears dripping onto your bare chest and sliding down your sternum.

“A-Are you sure?”

You stiffen, digging your nails into his scalp. “Yes. Why would I have said that if I didn’t mean it?”

“Well, other people have—”

You push his head up, cupping his face again so he can look directly at you again. Your eyebrows are furrowed, that anger still bubbling underneath your skin as you stare into him, the glassy red-and-white stare of the man you love so much the only thing stopping you from not leaving right now and finding the addresses of all the people who have slighted him.

He didn’t deserve that, as much as he thinks he does.

“You didn’t deserve that, Kakucho.”

At the mention of his full name, he flinches again, but it’s not out of fear. It’s out of surprise, like he’s shocked you care this much about him, but he nods. He clearly expects you to stop, but your hands are firm against his face as you keep going.

“You didn’t deserve that at all. I love you, okay?” you say, your voice rising slightly in volume, firm and rock solid, giving him something he can cling onto, “I love you so much, and I want this with you, and I want to help you. I want to teach you. I want you, all of you, and I don’t care if you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing. I’m happy to show you how to do all this, I promise. It’s never a problem.”

You can see another wave of tears rising in his eyes as you speak to him, your words weaving themselves into his brain, imprinting on it. It’ll take him a lot longer to gain that confidence back, of course, but this is a start. The tears are no longer saddening tears; they’re happy, relieved as he pulls you into a tight hug, holding onto you like you’ll slip away.

“God, I love you so much,” he whispers shakily into your ear, and you can’t help but giggle at him, rubbing his bare back with your fingers. “Of course, Kaku,” you whisper back, “of course.”

Then, you drag your nails across his back instead, and he lets out a full-body shudder and a growl into your ear. “Fuck, do that again,” he says, his voice low, and as you do, he makes another groaning noise and pushes you back onto the bed, wiping away his tears.

“Fuck, okay, fuck, you’re perfect.”

He breathes it like a prayer as he dives back onto your chest, swirling a nipple around in his mouth, but not exactly correct. It’s a little sloppy, not the level you need him at, and you tap him on the head. He looks up at you through his eyelashes, and you have to collect yourself so you don’t just babble nonsense to him.

“Swirl it like you’re licking a lollipop.”

He swirls his tongue just as you say, and your hips jerk into his own, the motion just right.

Perfect, even.

“God, you pick up on things quickly, huh?” you tease as he moves to the other nipple, your sentence cutting off in a moan as he does the same to the other nipple. You can feel his lips moving into a smirk against you as he breathes against the hardened nipple, gently sucking on it.

“What can I say? I learn fast.”

He makes his way down, his thumbs hooking into your pants and underwear as he pulls them off in one go, and his hot breath against your dripping center has you whining for him, your hips twitching at the feeling of his tongue against you. You need it, you need it so badly—

His tongue takes one long, slow lick from your hole to your clit, flicking against the nub, but it’s not quite where you want it to be. You let him do it again, before you grip his head and tap him, causing him to look up at you in question. His cheeks are bright red with blush, like a puppy. If he’d had a tail, you’d imagine it’d be wagging while he waits for you.

You take a deep breath. “Stick your tongue out.”

He complies, and you push his head against you, allowing the wet tip of his tongue to traverse your lips and crevices, until they land on the one spot that makes you see stars. You jerk up into his mouth when his tongue skirts across it, and it’s like you’re beaming the message into his brain, because he doubles down on that specific spot, swirling across it like he did with your nipples.

Holy shit.

“Do it in a figure eight,” you stammer out, using your finger to draw a figure eight in the air. He blinks at you, before nodding and trying it, and fuck, you could’ve cum right there watching him comply so innocently with your commands. Seeing him so pliant beneath you, learning what gets you off, was such a hot circumstance to be in that the room felt like it’d been raised a few degrees. The coil in your stomach is hot, tight and warm, and—

Suddenly, he stops, and he moves away to look up at you.

“Am I good?”

You stare at him incredulously. “What?”

He repeats the question, his hands gripping the fat of your hips so tightly that it might bruise.

It felt good.

You blink at him. “I—yes, but—”

He smirks at you, although the embarrassment is still strong in his eyes as he dives back into you. “Jus’ wanna make you feel good, baby,” he mumbles against you as he takes up his movements again in a faster motion, and you let out a loud moan, nodding. “You’re so good, Kaku, so good for me—”

He murmurs against you. “Can I…can I finger you?”

You laugh at the innocence of the statement, before nodding aggressively as his tongue flicks against you again. “Yes, God, yes,” you breathe, and one of his thick fingers slides in only a beat later. It’s getting more difficult to concentrate on teaching him how to do this, mainly because he is taking to how to pleasure you like a fish to water. It’s insane how fast he’s learning the spots that make you squirm; he’s perceptive, you knew that already, but this is another level. It’s like he’s turned all of his senses up to eleven to detect even the slightest discomfort.

“Up a little bit.”

“There?”

“To the side.”

“How about there?”

“Can you curl your—oh, shit—”

Not only does he add another finger, but he curls his fingers against that spongey spot inside of you and that does it. “Fuck, Kaku, ‘m gonna—”

“You’re gonna cum for me, pretty baby?”

“Fuck!”

At the pet name, the dam bursts, and you cream all over his fingers, shaking and sputtering against him. His mouth is on you in a second, licking and sucking up all of your wetness that dribbles out of you. He doesn’t stop, unknowingly about to fuck you into overstimulation as you cry out, twitching against him as he curls and scissors his fingers inside of you. It’s hitting all the sensitive areas inside of you, and by the time you finally come down and his fingers slide out, his chin is wet with your essence, looking up at you with a reddened face.

“Did I do good?” he whispers, and you pull him up, your gaze softened with the post-climax daze. You pull him close, tucking him underneath your chin, and sighing.

“Yeah, you did good. Great. High marks across the board.”

His chest rumbles with a laugh as he moves to tuck you into his own chest, letting you melt against him, his large hands skating across your back. “Thank you,” he breathes, and you look up at him with a smile, before pressing a kiss to his lips. “Of course, baby,” you respond, and his face gets even more red, bashfulness flooding his eyes.

“Can I ask you something?”

You cock your head. “Yeah?”

He looks away from you, as if weighing the consequences of his request he’s about to ask. When he does, heat floods down to your core, turning you on again so fast that you see stars.

“Can I…do that again?”

You giggle against him.

“Of course. Call it an assessment of your skills you’ve learned so far.”

divider credit: @/benkeibear

networks: @thehoneypotserver @enchantedforest-network

disclaimer: DO NOT copy or repost my works for any reason. translations are acceptable, but please ask for permission first!

© kakuchari 2023-2024

[thatdeadaquarius]

after scrolling through your posts i felt complelled to send an ask (i wonder why)

This kinda? relates to all the languages posts you've been making (was giggling and kicking my feet while reading them, and got inspired) but because I only speak English, I wanted to put a twist on it.

Creator who has audio processing issues and doesn't realise that Teyvat DOES actually speak the same language as them for a good while.

Because as a person with very good hearing, i sure don't fucking understand what people are saying most of the time, especially in big crowds. (its like listening to the sims sometimes man, i'm fighting for my life trying to understand😭)

So imagine a Creator getting dropped into Teyvat and getting found by a group of hunters or treasure horders, who instantly start panicking and talking all at once because 'omg our god is here' and all that.

And the Creator is still confused and diorientated, so all they're hearing is ✨words✨and they just assume that no one in Teyvat will understand them.

And then when they arrive in one of the nations and get to meet the vision bearers for the first time, the Creator makes a thirsty comment about one of them (probably would be Diluc in my case) and the entire crowd just goes SILENT.

So silent that the Creator can perfectlly understand what that vision bearer said in response.

Anyway, i love your blog :) not sure when you're going to get this, time zones are funny, but I hope you like it

Giggling and kicking?? Over my stuff??? 🥺🥺🥺💘💘💘 You sneaky little charmer ✨️

ALSO

AUDIO PROCESSING DISORDER ASK!!!!?????!!!!

:D

IM IN THE MIDDLE OF TRYING TO GET ADHD DIAGNOSIS AND GOT AN APD TEST NOT TOO LONG AGO BC THOUGHT I HAD IT!!

FRIENDO!! THIS IS INCREDIBLE!!! ✨️✨️✨️🌸🌸🌸

Have a cookie!! 🤲🍪 tysm for the ask im very very happy to see it!! :D!!

(subliminalmessagingyouwillgoclicktheaskbuttonandsendmeanasksubliminalmessaging)

AHFJDLLAHFAAJSK!! LOSING IT OVER THIS!!

(Me from the future editing: Sorry i wrote an entire sloppy written scenario over this its diluc focused, jfc sorry and i hope u get smth outta it 💀)

Oh good lord you being some kind of Creator god after getting sucked into the goddmn video game world is absolute HELL for your APD

Aint nobody tellin u nothing bc i can totally see that scenario happening bc everyone is like blabbering at you constantly, they all wanna get close to you to talk so its just [insert that general cafe crowd noises here]

Like u wish u had lofi to go with it bc u sure as hell cant get a word in edgewise

I know i keep writing abt Mondstadt, mostly bc first city -> intro to game -> therefore you land there

But i promise ill branch out guys but i got an excuse this time u mentioned Diluc 🔥

Honestly bc u probably arent trying to talk back to them (which they dont rlly know why? Bc they totally have heard ur voice while u were in ur world, when they were ur vessels)

They kinda assumed either A. You lost your voice B. You're overwhelmed, ppl r getting WAY too close to you, back off Npcs C. Or you don't speak THEIR language

So ofc Mondstadt brings you into the city and their planning a big ol festival, u came right in time for Windblume anyway, and by the time your done shaking hands and just waving and smiling (bc what else can u do u cant hear these fuckers, maybe u caught a "the" or a "hello" but you could've definitely been imagining it)

And finally you are free of the general crowd, but most of the Vision bearers (Allogenes) who were ur vessels wanna stick around, so u all end up in Angel's Share somehow

It's hella packed, and it's a bar.

So yeah u still can't hear shit, and now it just sounds like one of those fantasy medieval bar audios ambience videos

Ur just kinda kicking ur feetsies on a bar stool while like,, 4 or 5 differrent special character dishes are sitting in front of you

Diluc's behind the bar, and has been so sweetly attentive to you all evening, no matter how many tipsy patrons come up yelling for refills or drinks (or at least thats what u assume, bc u kinda end up just,, jumping and hitching ur shoulders up and trying to be lowkey about covering ur ears...)

He always comes and refills ur glass when it gets to even half-full, swiping away plates that have gone cold, and if you still want smth off of it, he's so perceptive no language needed bc he just sees your face and starts heating up the plate again with his vision with his hand :)

He's actually been the best thruout all this bc he already isn't super talkative, so ur pretty sure you've only seen his mouth open a few times, but otherwise u just communicated with him via actions/expressions

So ur chilling, well sorta, ur starting to kinda get overstimulated by the day and now this loud ass bar, and the fact that ur convinced no one speaks English here...

But hey!

Diluc's cool, u got food, and maybe u can charade to him u wanna find somewhere to retire to now for the night,,

You try and do that but he's pretty busy running around still,

"Damn, at least I get to see his ass though."

.

..

...

Diluc freezes.

You freeze.

Jean, Lisa, Venti, Amber, Kaeya, Rosaria freezes.

The whole bar goes silent.

Their god of gods finally spoke.

Oh they can understand you alright. (Also u were looking right at Diluc when you said it so, kinda obvious who u mean, somebody points to you behind Diluc)

Diluc just kinda,, sputters, like jerkily turns around and everything like a fried robot

"I- ahem- I- um- y-your Grace- I-"

Poor guy.

He doesn't even know what to say 🤷‍♂️

He has been progressively getting closer and closer to his hair color, his cheeks, his neck, his ears its a full white boy flush he cant escape its so obvious (should he say thank you? How do u even begin to thank a god for complimenting ur ass??!!)

He's caught between facing you and turning around and ducking back into the kitchen and never coming out again (unless it's just you two)

...Was it always this hot in here? Or did Diluc do this to you? 😵‍💫

(Well at least it's a lot quieter now)

You take the next logical step in this situation, and gently let your head thud into the bar.

...

It's a tie between Venti and Kaeya who busts out laughing first.

CHRIST ALMIGHTY IM SO SORRY THIS IS SO LONG I HOPE TUMBLR MAKES IT "READ MORE" BC I CANT FIND THAT OPTION ON MOBILE

IF U KNOW WHERE THAT BUTTON IS PLS LET A BITCH KNO 😭😩

UPDATE I FIGURED IT OUT FUCK YEAH

Cheers,

🌒🌊🌧Aquarius♒️🌌🌘

[squidinkedcreative]

aaaaaaa brain is putting things together about izzy and i just :( damn

also going to say this now that if ur an izzy hater, this post isnt for u! pls dont engage :) thank u

saw art with a quote from a post about izzy, talking about how some people find it touching that he’s buried in the yard of the inn, but this person didn’t. it made them feel sick because he’s buried there like a dog. and just first of all yeah. at first it was touching to me bc of that sentiment that they’re keeping him near them, even in death, but the more i thought on it the more my stomach also churned.

i know djenks had the best intentions with how izzy’s character and arc were treated but jfc ya missed the mark. by a wide margin. like hello???? having the entire point of his arc in season two be discovering himself and growing into himself, hell even standing up for himself and letting himself hold on a little looser to his baggage and just put down the baggage he chose to carry on behalf of the man he loved only for him to die like an episode or two later. and the crew acts like nothing happened just. it doesnt sit right with me and it hasnt since the first time i saw it.

i know its for “plot” reasons, but there was no other way to convey any of this than maiming him like the family dog nobody actually likes??? like a grimy mutt?? without him LITERALLY DYING????????????????? AT THE VERY END OF THE SEASON??????? AND NOT EVEN HAVE THAT BE THE MAIN MESSAGE FOR THE REST OF THE EPISODE??? you had to stomp all over his dead body with a fucking wedding. yes yes good for lucius and pete i really do love them and i am happy for them, but its like they all just. moved on. and forgot about izzy. and trust me i am FULLY aware of how complex grief is, but still. it stings. it feels like its watering down the impact izzy had on everyone on the crew.

he and the kraken’s crew grew so close that they tried to keep him alive even tho they all knew if the kraken found out, they’d all be paying with blood. they MADE HIM. A PROSTHETIC. AND PAINTED IT. they cheered him on when he came out in drag and sang in fucking FRENCH!!!!!!! and then he dies and like 3 minutes later theres a wedding and another party. it feels tasteless. it feels demeaning.

and i 100% think djenks roped izzy and ed into the Bury Your Gays trope without thinking that through. elder queer man who is traumatized dozens of times over who just fucking came to terms with himself AND WHO JUST CONFESSED HIS LOVE TO EDWARD!!!! dies. shortly after that, timeline wise. thats the fucking trope. it’s literally right there.

AND THEN. they fucking bury him in the YARD. LIKE A DOG. in the far corner where they wont see it and be reminded of him every day. out of sight out of mind. they’ll move on and grow old together, blissfully happy, while izzy’s bones are the only thing left of the man who once was Israel Hands, First Mate to the legendary Blackbeard. he never got to have his mutual pining moment, he never got to find the true love of his life and grow old with them. he doesnt get to die fulfilled, with labored breaths, as old age takes him. he gets to sit and watch from the corner as ed and stede, his ex of sorts and the guy he replaced him with, live that happily ever after. he gets to sit in the corner like a bad dog and watch as these two get everything he ever wanted. just like the unwanted family pet.

it makes me ill. he deserved so much better. he deserves better than doggy heaven, he deserves better than being roped into the fucking Bury Your Gays trope too.

[anniilaugh]

Hello from Canada! – Sorry for the out-of-the-blue ask but your Medicine Seller cosplay has been living rent-free in my head since I was creeping the Mononoke tags a couple of weeks ago. I’m slowly gathering the materials for my own and I have been mesmerized by how dang smooth the designs on yours are. Is that just regular bias tape you used for the white edging around the separate pieces? If so, how on earth did you stitch it down without having 3,000,000 wrinkles? No pressure to share, of course, but this would seriously save my ass haha. Love your work!

Hellohello! and WAHH thank youu! ;u; <3 It warms my heart that my favorite cosplay still receives some love <3<3<3 (hope you don't mind me posting this publicly, love to document useful wip stuff)

YES it's just cotton bias tape I cut to smaller size, it can take sooooo much bending abuse so the smallest round parts were possible to do. I don't know what beginners madness drove me with this costume.. but to sew those on was... a slow chore with a lot of trial and error :, D LOT'S OF IRONING IS THE KEY.

My memory is a bit hazy (it's been 10 years jfc) but I think I attached them in place first with this iron-on fusible tape (my best friend!!!) to make the top stitching easier. Pinning them down didn't work, just bended the bias tape out of place and pulled the fabric. This is a millimeter job. I also used iron-on interfacing to reinforce and/or attach the small fabric parts first.

If I ever redid this costume I think I'd just hand sew them on, less stiff, no visible seams. Because damn the sleeves got STIFF with all the stitches and interfacing : D But at least it made 'em look neat and straight in the end.

Found these WIP pictures of my messy floor for you, hope it helps some <3

GOOD LUCK WITH YOUR COSPLAY! More Medicine sellers to the world, YES PLEASE~ <3

[mrs-monaghan]

What are you going to do if that actress was actually shooting a sexy mv with him?? What if he actually kind of makes out with her in the mv? Touching and kissing her? Or maybe just showing her as a love interest in his mv?? Are you going to stop shipping jikook then?? Are you going to stop claiming that he's gay?? Nope right. Bcz you all shippers are the same. Tkkrs jkkrs..no difference at all. The way they keep shipping tae with jk even after seeing him Jennie hand in hand...you are still going to ship jk with jimin and keep saying that he's still gay and not interested in women at all..bcz that's all you shippers are good at. Being delusional.

How easy your life must be, to walk around empty headed everyday. Its easy, isn't it? Not having to utilise your brain? If you have one. That is. No seriously, life must be real good for you if u never have to think. I envy you actually. I wanna walk around sounding stupid and not care that people hear how stupid I actually am.

First of all, you mentally deficient walking embodiment of stupidity, JK will not be doing any of what you just described. touching and kissing her and making out with her That's just you projecting because you wanna watch the MV and replace the woman with yourself. You're projecting which is real fucked up in itself and I feel bad for you and your dry vagina coz u will not be getting what you want. Yes. I can tell you are female. A dillusional female who thinks she will ever have a chance with JK.... calling us dillusional. Yeah. Okay.

2nd of all, V exposed his actual rlship with his girlfriend. If JK features a woman in his MV he will be working. Doing his job. W.O.R.K you know what that is, right? No? It's a thing adults do to make money. J.O.B is not real life. We adults do our jobs and when we are done we go back home to our real lives. To our loved ones. Kind of like Jimin did for like crazy.

I'm talking to you like a 2 year old coz you sound like one. There is a huge difference between V and Jennie in Paris Vs JK doing his job. If u cannot see this difference I don't understand how u can be part of society when u are completely and utterly useless. Jfc

Your first mistake was coming to me, a supporter and assuming I'm a shipper. Next time try another tumblr. Thanks 4 stopping by. I appreciate u... Not.

[primojade]

𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 #3: mirrors of you

jfc im once again brainrotting over scaramouche at this point this probably won't end anytime soon 😂💀

Sooo, this time, I was thinking...there's kunikuzushi, there's scaramouche, then there's the wanderer, right? There are so many sides of this purple angry boy were seeing now and I was suddenly had a ephiphanic thought while doing the dishes 😂

Reader and Scara were already in an established relationship for quite some time, seeing all his nasty and beautiful sides to them. And since they were in Sumeru and the ability to dream were once again granted to them, the reader found themselves in a dream! In that dream, reader found a mirror and what they're seeing there was not them, but scaramouche himself.

The first mirror show them the scene five hundred years ago, the first time scaramouche was still known as kunikuzushi, his first time wandering, and him pouring all his insecurities and sadness to you. In contrast to what you remember, it seems that the mirror was showing you that you already met him ages ago, been with him throughout his betrayal and how he decided to stand up on his own. You were always been there.

The second mirror shows you a different scene. This time, it was now familiar. Because this is the scaramouche that you met during his fatui days. The mirror shows you his sadistic side, how he changes so much throughtout the years he spend serving the tsaritsa.

The scene that the third mirror shows you was one that you treasures and loathes the most. It was sometime after scaramouche was defeated by the dendro archon and the traveller. It was the time he confessed to you, told you he loves you so much, but that was also the time he told you his farewells, and told you to forget him and live a normal life :(

After the scene ends, you realised one thing. Scaramouce, no, wanderer developed in such a short time to someone so beautiful, to something healthy and comfortable that it's hard to believe. How are you this lucky? How is this your…lover? 

But when you thought that the dream was about to end, a fourth mirror appeared. This time, though, you knew that this was not one for happy ending. Because this mirror began showing you an alternate ending in which scaramouche didn't even have the chance to meet you. After his absolute defeat, he become nothing but an empty shell of a puppet with no motivation to live. This person is not your lover but why it looked so real? Nahida and the traveller tried to help him ofc, but yeah...

SO IT WAS NOT THE END HAHAHA. After the scene fourth mirror, you found yourself in an open field in Inazuma. And YOU MET THE SCARAMOUCHE ON THE FOURTH MIRROR, not your lover but he looked the same as the one you loved the most. But you were proud of him nonetheless, because he becomes such a great person even without your help (in an alternate timeline).

Scaramouche (of the fourth mirror) told u how weird it was that you of all people fall in love with him, and he felt awkward when u show him affection suskahaja he told u u were so much different from the (name) he knows, and u were the same. And altho ur wanderer and this wanderer in front of u are both different person, their similarities are endearing. And just as precious as your lover.

HELP I WRITTEN THE END FIC BELOW THIS IS SO CRAZY I AM CRAZY. At this point ill just make it a whole fic shsja.

Hmm..." You blinked, the blanket of the bed warm and soft over your body as you felt a hand awkwardly stroking your hair in an attempt to wake you up. 

The sunlight shone through the space the curtain didn't cover, revealing your purple haired lover. He was lying down next to you, arms wrapped awkwardly around your waist as he continued to caress your hair in rhythmic patterns.

Wanderer looked down at you with an amused huff. "...Took your sweet time and finally awake. It appears you had a good dream though. You were smiling so cheekily in your sleep."

You remembered all of the chaotic albeit pretty dreams as you snuggled more closely to his chest, knowing you're going to keep that promise you made to him in the dream in some way. No matter what you had to do. 

Tilting your head upwards, you catched his lips with a quick, sweet morning kiss. The same lips, still just as soft and sweet as you remember. 

After you pulled away, you returned that big smile back to him. "...I had a very meaningful dream, Kuni. Because it was filled with only you. All of you. And I love all versions of you."

TAGLIST: @samarill , @maehemthemisfit

[potetosaradas]

Sorry if this is a bit too saucy but do you have any headcanons for what prickcest's first time was like or how each of them deals with their feelings for the other? 😏

ANON!!! HAVE YOU READ MY PRICKCEST FICS??? THEY ARE ALL SAUCY HAHAHA I AM A BIG FAN OF GETTING SAUCED HAHAHA

Spicy content under the cut LMFAO

So this is probably a little different compared to what others might be thinking, but i headcanon that Prime and Rick were best friends before they became intimate with one another... so I like to think that they were each other's wingmen at bars lol

They started out being intimate through alien threesomes but not necessarily fucking each other... but they did get to see each other in action. Several alien hookups later, Prime might've slipped his dick in and you know what... Rick was a little surprised but he didn't mind it. Probably bc of all the alien drugs running rampant around his system lmao or so he thought.

The FIRST time they were intimate TOGETHER was probably on a random night. But it didn't feel like a first time because they'd already touched each other intimately before so the lines were already blurred and grey... but it did feel a little different. Prime likes to hold Rick when they sleep (since there's only one bed in Prime's apartment and the sofa sucks to sleep on) and in the quiet still air of the night, Rick could feel the way Prime was hard against his lower back... so he pressed his hips back just a bit.

They know each other really well and so most of this interaction was non-verbal. They just know what the other is thinking and what the other wants. Prime definitely topped that night tho. sTRANGELY ENOUGH THO, they didn't kiss that night. Their first kiss was actually more special than the first time they had sex. It was all backwards HAHAH

To Rick, sex with Prime had always been about relieving sexual urges. Like masturbating or something. (and it may as well have been since Prime is literally his alternate self) And that's how he viewed it for a long time before he could no longer ignore his feelings that OKAY DAMN. I'M ACTUALLY IN LOVE WITH MY BEST FRIEND. JFC.

This is how I pictured the first time they ever made love to be. When it stopped being fucking and started being something else entirely ; u ;

Prime on the other hand was completely enamored with Rick since day 1. Since the very first day he clapped eyes on Rick haha and he's ALWAYS overtly flirted with Rick to the point of being annoying. Rick could never tell if Prime was just kidding or if he actually liked Rick. Prime was good at hiding his feelings like that. And so when Rick finally came to terms about his feelings for Prime he was a little nervous because he thought Prime would tease him about it and never let him live it down LMAO

Turns out all they needed to do was kiss <3

This is literally them btw:

[tiodolma]

I dont like that it only took merlin to reveal his magic for arthur to apologize for his mistreatment and abuse. “Oh u could have killed me the whole time im so sowwwy i didnt give u the respect u deserved.” Jfc That is not cute nor wholesome. Merlin had been his chief advisor for a long time and yet he never stop treating him like a dog at his beck and call. He never really stopped dismissing and shitting on Merlin’s worries. He resorts to emotional abuse when Merlin refuses him. “Hurting his loved ones and pulling their pigtails is how he shows he cares,” many people say. What bullsht of mental gymnastics. He only asks merlin “what should we do” to make merlin sympathise with him. Merlin always has to put himself in Arthur’s shoes and never the other way around. “It makes sense cause arthur has never had the life of a servant” and yet Arthur treats Guinevere with a lot of care and respect. Merlin barely has that even when Merlin. as a person, had been honest to Arthur the whole time. He kept giving his heart out, laying it on Arthur’s hands. Sure Arthur sometimes acknowledges it but most of the time he just thinks its amusing. The magic reveal didn't even need to happen for Arthur to finally treat Merlin as a full person but yeah he still went there.

It’s an insult. Im glad he’s dead.

[lilflowerpot]

What do you find most challenging in writing in general and particularly little blade? What are your favourite and least favourite parts to write? In hindsight, is there something you would change about lb if you could?

Well look at you coming out of the woodwork with the Big Questions, but alrighty; buckle up buttercup ♡

Most challenging is definitely juggling all the background threads that I planted (and continue to plant) the seeds for at least a dozen chapters before they become relevant. Not forgetting which narratives I've foreshadowed—not to mention when and how—is crucial to ensuring that the story as a whole feels cohesive and like a forgone conclusion: I don't want LB to be predictable, exactly, but at the same time the key events shouldn't keep coming out of nowhere without warning, because to do so would leave the reader in a perpetual state of ?????? rather than creating a sense of a puzzle for which all the pieces are slowly falling into place.

My favourite thing to write is, without question, the magnetism between Keith & Lotor, particularly from Lotor's pov. Their dynamic is not only compelling, but ridiculously fun to play around with, and Lotor (as both an intellectual and a romantic) allows for all these metaphors and winding descriptions that let me really delve into the intimacies of their characters, the world around them, and their relationship with one another.

My least favourite thing to write are large group scenes. Do you have any idea how  e x c r u c i a t i n g  it is to try and juggle nine different characters in the same room? Not only the dialogue (jfc,,, the dialogue) but what everyone is doing at any given time—body language is one thing, but who's where? Are they moving around the space? Why? Why not? Did they put that object down already or is it still in hand?—and best of all their personal feelings on the situation they're in (because everybody has an opinion, irrespective of whether it's relevant let alone helpful to the plot), and then, when you've decided upon all of that, how much can you feasibly get across to the reader without giving them a laundry list of Who's Doing What between every line of dialogue to the point that they completely lose track of what's going on?.........yeah, group scenes are a bitch.

As for what I'd change,,, objectively, I think I'd rewrite the early chapters, because not only could they be comped into half as many (they're so much shorter than the later ones), but I know I've improved as a writer since first putting finger to keyboard way back in the early days of 2018, so I could almost certainly do a better job now than I did then. In that same vein, however, there's something so sweetly nostalgic about going back and re-reading things I wrote four and a half years ago precisely because I can see how much I've grown as a writer. Little Blade has snowballed into so much more than I ever could have dreamt, and even though from an outside perspective it might seem silly that a fanfiction could ever mean so much to me... it does. There are chapters in there that, unbeknownst to all of you, I wrote during some of the toughest times of my life; the echo of those moments are still very much there for me, written into certain lines of dialogue or description, and yet at the end of every chapter there's this unimaginable outpouring of kindness from strangers on the internet that owed me nothing and yet took the time to not only read my writing (and irl I'm almost painfully shy, so you wouldn't believe how mind-blowing that is for me) but left comments telling me that my writing meant something to them. That it made them smile- that it made them feel- that they themselves were having a tough time and in some small way it resonated with them and made things seem a little better.

So truthfully? I wouldn't change a damn thing.

[storiesofsvu]

Hey hey, another Thursday!

Starting off with OC, ive seen the promo pics and tbh, im excited.

Jet looking amazing in green.

That was the WOOORST job putting a necklace on EVER. Like, not only was it over the hair, but it was not properly lined up for the reveal…

Just casually walking around the streets of nyc with a severed hand.. nbd

Are you seriously telling me that dog devoured that hand in that little time, bones and all?

How and why is it that these hardened career criminals always fall so fucking hard and fast for the UC cop!?? Like, you should have your guard up a little bit shouldn’t you??

Okay, so…. Can we talk about ayanna’s nails for a hot second? She clearly a pillow princess with those claws… LOL

 THANK YOU JET. THANK YOU for fucking calling out that stabler has done SO much worse than KISS someone while UC.

Man this whole sending an agent cop into the field UC to be the romantic interest of a perp/mob/mafia and the cop ends up crossing a line or two, fucking things up and falling for said perp… all while the guy playing Doyle is the main mob boss?? Hmm… this is a little too familiar, like even jet’s wig…

Is she faking this?? Okay, yes, she is. Called that.

This ep is super Ayanna jet heavy and im LOVING it thank fucking god

Also loving ayanna’s apt

Okay the wig coming off would not be that big of a deal in today’s day and age, tons of girls wear wigs all the fucking time. ALSO, why was it not wigcapped, pinned down and secured??

Welp. Cant say im not surprised by the ending. But I am glad that jet’s getting to do more.

As of right now I am paying ZERO attention to mothership. We’ll see if that changes when sam pops up or not.

Okay, the black & tan number Samantha has on close to the end? It looks like it’s a two piece outfit with her midriff hanging out… good job wardrobe…

Ooo..od’d… yeah… called that…, also Nolan that was some of the worst cpr compressions ive ever seen on tv.. cmon

OKAY. Paying attention now!

We REALLY had to watch that machete attack again!?? WHY

Jfc that opening…did we have to go that graphic?? Is this gonna continue to be a new thing?

I cant figure out if they’re trying to test out muncy/Velasco with the fandom and see what way we go, or of they’re teasing the relationship, or if they’re just playing on the brother/sister vibes, because all im getting is muncy being a brat, which is accurate. Also that scene would’ve been a lot less awkward if there was any kind of background noises/music, like when there’s elevator dings on grey’s, you know what im saying?

Loving the purple on Velasco tho

“you wanna keep a stray puppy?” “you got to keep one!” LOL

So bruno’s here to stay?

#1: wtf is this bucket hat.

#2: why is it pulled down so far over her eyes?

Bro those crutches are way too short for this dude

“A funk?” carisi then gives the “who’s this guy” look to liv. LOL.

Man the writing this ep is great.

I appreciate that we’re getting more into muncy’s personality aside from being a lil teasing brat, like, there’s gotta be a lot of grief in there, knowing that her mom died and im pretty sure it was when grace was young, so she’s probably been bottling shit up since then. Also still and always really hoping that they don’t push her & Velasco, let the brother sister bestie vibes win please.

Glad we’re getting lots of muncy this week

Bruno is growing on me….

“sometimes though it’s hard to make a u-turn” IS THAT THE ONLY FOLLOW UP WERE GONNA GET?! (I say that as someone who is 100000000% NOT an eo shipper, but I do think it’s strange that *that* happened last week and like, fin didn’t even ask how noah’s drive back to the city was kinda thing. Yeah, sure there was enough going on in both episodes, but like, there was literally ZERO follow up to everything. Jeeze.)

 Joe looking hella cute in that toque

Man this just keeps getting worse…

Okay… hold up.. grace says “a great one” about Velasco being a liar and liv just flies right passed it AS IF THEY ALL DIDN’T FIRST MEET HIM WHEN HE WAS UC AND NONE OF THEM BELIEVED HIM. Like homeboy WAS working majorly UC for how long??

Though we DO know a tidbit about his previous gang involvement… so I honestly don’t know what direction theyre taking this… it’ll be interesting to see.

[marshmallowprotection]

Man, that one ask has reawakened so many childhood memories of being asked out in elementary and middle school so many times and all of em being jokes or dared by their friends (well, except three times in middle school, but they were kinda wack) and they weren't even good jokes either???

Because they'd ask, sometimes mutter under their breath (which was always shit, and you could very much hear em) hoping id say no. And I'd tell them no, cue them saying something along the lines of thank fuck or yes and leavin

Like c'mon, if you're gonna do that at least put some effort into it??? Jfc people, it's just boring and repetitive at that point

I do! Also remember one time I write a "will u date me" note to fuck with one of the boys in class, copied in one of the "popular girls" handwriting and handed it to one of the boys, told em it was from the popular girl, and left

It was funny to me at the time and it still is djsbsjsb

0/10 Stars. It's not funny nor is it okay to do this. I don't care how old you are. Someone has to sit you down and explain why this isn't any kind of joke to be made if you're a child, and if you're an adult in this situation, you damn well know better than to do that sort of thing. It's okay that you can laugh about it now and have made peace with it in some regard, but it's okay to say that it still hurts sometimes. This is cruel and traumatic. Don't make a joke out of asking someone out by any means.

It sticks with you years after and that's a fact given I remember these moments clearly and so many Anons admit to the same. It's just not funny and it will never be funny. I just hope that everyone can come to realize their worth as they get older and see that the world should have never done that to them. If nothing else, I'm here to say that no follower of mine should ever doubt the RFA's love for them. I will say it over and over until my lungs burn hot, the found family, the RFA is always going to be there.

They will love you and support you as you learn how to love yourself. You will find a life worth living soon, don't give up on yourself when it can always become brighter tomorrow. You never know. Give yourself a chance regardless of what that means for you.