#sounds awkward to word it like this but i just love the character inherent to lots of 'terrible' art

[alsojnpie]

i want to do art trades but like. terrible doodle version. let me draw you something awful. please draw him like this

hmmmmmm actually i think i just art traded with myself. very good

[effortandmore]

you, after all | knj x reader (18+)

summary: your break up hadn't been angry or contentious. he wanted to go, you never asked him to stay. it was simple, really. but when namjoon shows back up after three years, things don't seem so simple anymore

pairing: namjoon x f!reader

rating: explicit (18+ please)

genre: exes to lovers, smut, fluff (because of who i am as a person)

warnings: smut, a little swearing, here are the specific smut tags: kissing, penetrative sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, maybe a whisper of a hand job, namjoon has a big dick (i had to)... it's really pretty soft—they're just in love without saying so

word count: 6.8k

a/n: i haven't been able to write the things i need to write (sorry jin and yoongi), so here i am with some namjoon fluff & smut. thank you, as always, to @ugh-yoongi who is helpful and kind with reading these things. apologies for the banner quality; idk how to make it look nice on tumblr. this is posted to ao3 here if you like to read fics there.

There’s this thing about awkward silences—they’re not inherently awkward because of the absence of sound, they’re awkward precisely because you become acutely aware of every little sound around you that isn’t the one you were expecting or wanting to hear. 

The tap of his heel against the floor, muted by the thin cork flooring and then enhanced again by the way the fabric of his jeans whooshes when he jiggles his knee. The almost white-noise din of the other conversations around you, loud enough that you can pick out words but not meaning. The tinkling of silverware and chopsticks on ceramic and glass as people (including you) swallow things they think to say down with some glass noodles or spoonfuls of soup. 

No, you decide. Awkward silences are anything but quiet, they’re terrifyingly fucking loud. 

“So…” you finally start, “are you going to tell me what you’re actually doing here?” 

Namjoon looks up from his food at you as you speak, his eyes wide like they get when he’s been startled out of some (probably depressing) train of thought, eyebrows raised in crescents that sit like shadows above the rim of his glasses. Noodles trail out of his lips and hang there, resting on his chopsticks, waiting for him to act. 

It’s a perfect visual representation of the pause you feel in your whole body waiting for him to respond. Maybe somehow you are like a noodle, you think. 

You try not to laugh at the thought because you know it will send him back into some sort of overthinking spiral of dismal self-worth. You know he’ll think you’re laughing at him. Sometimes, back then, you were. But not usually.

(And he’s not the only one prone to existential crises. 

Perhaps that’s why you two had always gotten on so well. You’ve had plenty of time to think about how the two of you started and stopped, and being aligned in this sort of… well, thoughtfulness is maybe a generous way to put it… being alike in that way a little bit probably drew you together as much as it split you apart. One overthinker is enough for any relationship. Two is… two is probably one too many). 

With a slurp, he sits up and sets his chopsticks down. He’s still regarding you, his eyes haven’t left your face, you’re pretty sure. But now, it’s with the careful consideration he’s known amongst your friends for, not the surprise you clocked on him a moment prior. 

He’s still fidgeting. You can feel the vibrations of his legs when they brush the underside of the table because he’s too tall to keep his limbs to himself and too polite to stretch them out in a violation (would it really be? You’re not sure) of your space. For a moment, you think it’s out of character, and then you start to recall every difficult conversation you’ve ever had with this man in front of you. The way he would twist up his face into a scowl almost involuntarily, the pulling on his hair, the crumpling up of whatever paper was in reach, the peeling of countless labels off of beer bottles… No, you decide, the fidgeting is perfectly in sync with what you know of Kim Namjoon when he thinks he’s going to say something someone doesn’t want to hear (and also when someone’s telling him something he doesn’t). 

If you didn’t know him as well, you’d think he was stalling. Or unsure of himself. And he might be those things to some degree, but this version of him, you’re sure, is trying to figure out how to say what he wants to say in a way that you’ll accept. 

The problem is, you’ve been broken up for almost three years. You’re not sure what he could say that would even affect you like that any more. 

So, this is all a little frightening, this awkward loud silence between the two of you. 

You point the blunt end of a chopstick at him. “Joon, just spit it out. We haven’t seen each other in ages, I don’t want to waste this watching you think.” 

At that, he grins, and at least some of what you loved about him rears its head. He’s gorgeous when he’s happy—it’s contagious, too. His dimples appear, his cheeks push up into his eyes and his lips spread so wide they almost cover the span of his face. He’s really, truly beautiful like this, and when you see it now for a split second, you’re reminded of how much you used to love making him smile, how much pride you took in being the one who could almost always make him laugh. 

“Sorry,” he mutters as his grin turns from bright to sheepish. “You know how I can be.” 

That, you certainly do. 

“Well, you said you wanted to catch up, and we’ve done that, so now are you gonna tell me what you’re doing back here?” 

“I’ve been thinking,” he says, eyes dropping down to his bowl.

“Uh-oh.” You mean it to tease, not to be cruel, but his face falls a little anyway. You suppose it’s two sides of the same coin—being able to make him laugh and having enough influence to disappoint him with your words… they’re essentially the same thing and you know it. “Sorry,” you add, tapping his foot under the table with yours. “I was just teasing… Trying to make this less weird, I guess.” 

“It was never weird with us, was it?” He’s asking you, for what you’re not sure. Reassurance? Absolution? 

“No,” you reply softly. “It was a lot of things with us, but it was never weird.” 

And it wasn’t. Not when you fought about stupid shit late-night in the kitchen of your crappy apartment. Not when he took off to the city to do “big things” after uni and you just sort of… let him go. Not when your friends “didn’t take sides” but took careful measures to not invite you to the same parties, and not when he called you earlier today, totally out of the blue, telling you he was around and he wanted to see you. 

In order, it was frustrating, disappointing, lonely, and surprising, but none of it was weird. Not weird standing in his empty living room, leaning against a stack of his moving boxes and watching him pack the last of his belongings into a duffel. Not weird to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer to you as he fucked you into the mattress that last night before he left, whispering that he loved you and needed you. Not weird after, when you spilled tears on his chest and told him you were scared for what life would be like without him while he ran fingertips up and down your spine and reassured you that no matter what, you were going to have an incredible life. 

It wasn’t weird when the next morning, he promised you’d always be friends. 

It wasn’t weird when you both eventually stopped texting. 

It wasn’t weird when he never came back. 

But now he’s here, sitting in front of you in the same grungy noodle shop you used to have your cheap college date nights at, and things are absolutely, inarguably weird. 

Namjoon’s staring at you, still hasn’t answered your question, when the server comes with your check. He snags it before you can argue and gives you a distracted sort-of-grin when he gets up to find the cashier. 

Everything about this is so familiar and different at the same time. In your past life with Namjoon, he’d never just leave the table to pay with noodles left in his bowl, he’d never forget his manners and ignore asking whether or not you were ready to go. But him getting distracted by his own thoughts is on brand… So is the way he knocks over the cashier’s pencil cup when he tries to return the pen he used to sign the receipt. The most familiar thing is the glance he throws your way when he does it, rolling his eyes affectionately when he sees you stifling a laugh. 

It makes your stomach tumble. 

There isn’t a discussion when you leave the noodle shop, thank god. No asking if it’s okay if he walks with you, no awkward first date bullshit. Which of course there isn’t, you remind your nervous system, because this isn’t a date and it’s not a first anything really. First time you’ve seen him in a while maybe, but even that feeling’s been fading since you saw him through the window of the restaurant, sitting alone (waiting for you with his knee bouncing) at your usual table a couple hours prior. 

“Why do you think we call it a pencil cup?” he asks quietly. You can barely hear him over the car that happens to pass as he speaks. 

“Huh?” 

“We always call it a pencil cup, but everyone keeps pens in them, you know?” 

You smile softly in spite of yourself. “I don’t know, Joon-ah.” It’s a nickname you haven’t used or thought of in a long time. It feels too affectionate for what you are to each other now (you feel a little too affectionate toward him for what you are now, so you suppose it fits), but he doesn’t seem to notice, leaving you thankful for the universe’s small favors. “Humans are quirky. Language is worse,” you finish. 

He hums in response. “You’re right. You’re always right,” he agrees. 

Suddenly he stills, footsteps halting as he grabs your hand. The surprise you feel absolutely accounts (you hope) for the stupid swoop of your stomach; not the first one you’ve felt since the sun went down. “Can we?” he says, tugging on your hand like a ridiculously strong kid. 

It takes a second for you to realize what he means, but when you do, you readily agree. “Of course we can.” You move first, pulling him behind you, and it’s not lost on you when you look over your shoulder that he looks happier than you think you’ve seen him maybe ever, and that you’re still holding hands. 

You hop up onto the metal platform, letting him go, and he grabs one of the bars and starts to pull it behind him as he jogs. Your world literally spins. Arms out, you tilt your head back and puff out a long breath. It’s cold enough that you can see the smoky trail of it float above you, tendrils of steam looking like they’re curling around the stars. 

With a thud, Namjoon lands across from you on the merry-go-round, sitting to face you, legs sprawled out in front of him. You sit, too, and the metal wheel spins a little more slowly with each revolution until it’s barely moving millimeters, all of the momentum from Namjoon’s effort petering out. 

It’s weird, you think, that staring at him across from you, it still feels like the ground is moving. 

“I left.” He breaks the silence with a simple statement and you’re not sure what he expects you to say in return, so you just nod. “But I don’t know why you let me.” 

He doesn’t look at you when he says the last part, his head tilts off to the side and he leans it against one of the cold, metal railings. If he was anyone else, you’d think he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. But you know him, and you know he rarely says things he doesn’t mean. 

The first response in your chest feels like anger. He left you after all. He walked away. Of course you let him, what the fuck else were you supposed to do? Beg him to stay? You were basically kids. You still are. He had opportunities, you had a sick mom… it wouldn’t have been fair to ask him to stay. 

And then there was this: the insecure part of you didn’t want to give him the opportunity to tell you he couldn’t. Wouldn’t. That you weren’t worth it. 

Maybe you should have taken that chance. You’ve learned a lot since then. Grown up and gotten more confident, surely. Made new friends, had other partners. “Lovers,” as Taehyung likes to call them (just to see you roll your eyes at him in response). 

He keeps talking before you can let the angry thoughts have a voice. “I love being here,” he says softly, still not looking at you. “I love how you can see the stars, I love that the air smells better. I love the sea and the way it makes you feel small…” he sighs before he continues, “but I’ve been back for a week and I didn’t love any of it as much as I love this right now.” His voice gets quieter with each word. You barely hear him tack on, “with you.” You might even be imagining it, he’s that quiet. 

It almost makes you sick to not know what he’s getting at, to wish he would just be straight with you. All of this nostalgia… what amounts to a recreation of all your college dates… It’s just so much. 

“Are you pregnant?” 

“What?” Namjoon’s eyes look like they’re about to pop out of his skull. 

You let yourself laugh when you respond. “I don’t know! This just feels like the lead up to something big, you know? You’re pregnant, you have cancer, you’re moving to another country…” You trail off and then sit up straight, letting yourself get a little more serious. “What’s all this about? It feels like you have big news or… to be honest, it kind of feels like a date, Joon-ah.” 

“Feels like a date good or feels like a date bad?” he asks. 

“Feels like a date confusing,” you answer pointedly. “I don’t even know what you’re doing in town.” 

“Can I walk you home?” 

“That’s not an answer.” 

He stands then, and reaches a hand out to you to help you up. You let him even though you don’t need it, and he pulls you into a hug. Tight against his chest, things feel a little less confusing and this seaside town feels a little more like home than it has in a really long time. It’s distressing how right it feels to be close to him like this, how he smells just like he always has, how soft his stupid sweater is under your cheek. You do everything you can not to nuzzle against him in a complete violation of any boundaries that both of you might have. It’s all you want to do though, and that’s disconcerting in and of itself.

“Yeah,” you mumble into his collar. “You can walk me home.” 

You give him some grace as you walk, not repeating yourself for the millionth time with your request to know just exactly what he thinks he’s doing crashing back into your life with a half day’s notice. Then it occurs to you that he’s leading you home, which is fine except… you’re not sure how he seems to know where you live. 

“Joon? How do you know where we’re going?”

“Huh?” He gives you a distracted glance like he didn’t quite intake your question.

“My apartment, how do you know where it is?”

“Oh…” His cheeks flush the prettiest rose color. “Ah… you were at that art show in the city a few nights ago, right when I got to town, and Tae invited everyone over. We’d been drinking and the bar was closing and he said you wouldn’t be there…” He gives you a pained sort of smile. “He said you wouldn’t mind. Said you’d be staying with friends.” 

The idea that your ex was in your apartment without you knowing it is… well, it should be infuriating. But it’s not. It’s more like you want to know what he thought, if he liked it. If it felt like the you that he knew or a new version of you. If it felt familiar and different at the same time the way he does to you right now. 

“So… you’ve been in our apartment then…” It’s not a question, but Namjoon answers anyway, rushing the words out. 

“No! No.” He shakes his head. “I couldn’t do it. We got there and I… It felt like sneaking around and I couldn’t do that to you. I went back to Hoseok’s and crashed on his couch.” 

“Oh… okay.” You can’t figure out why you’re almost disappointed. “You can see it now. If you want. If that’s something you’d be interested in, you know…” The words spill out in a rambly jumble. 

Namjoon stops to consider you, head tilted like he’s trying to listen to words you’re not saying. He must find whatever he’s looking for, because he responds quickly. “Yeah, okay. I’d like that.” 

“Okay.” You nod but don’t move. 

“This is it, right?” 

And it is, indeed. You’re standing in the middle of the sidewalk in front of your own building, too distracted by whatever this thing is with the two of you to notice where you are. 

“Yeah, yeah. Come on up.” You punch the door code in and hold the door for him, bowing a little and giving an exaggerated gesture for him to enter to lighten the mood. 

Taehyung, the world's most interesting roommate, is working an overnight shift, so you know he’s not home, but you pray he hasn’t left anything strange out in the living room. You’ve walked into your apartment to find it perfectly spotless except for a trumpet and a dildo sitting side-by-side on the coffee table before, and though you’ve never really discussed it for obvious reasons, you’re fairly confident it won’t happen again. But not one hundred percent. 

“Tae’s working tonight,” you explain for some unknown reason as you unlock your door. It’s not like Namjoon is some third date here to fuck you for the first time, so it doesn’t matter if Tae’s there or not and he probably knows your roommate (his friend, too) is working, anyway. 

“I heard,” he mumbles behind you. 

To your extraordinary relief, nothing odd or personal is strewn around the living room or the kitchen, so you say a silent prayer of gratitude and slide your shoes off, motioning for Namjoon to do the same. 

“This is it,” you say, in your most uncreative moment of the night. “It’s nicer than the last place you saw me living,” you joke. It is, though. Much nicer. Having Tae to split the costs helps, and your art has actually been selling for the past couple of years, so that’s afforded you a little more than the old studio with a leaky shower and what was probably mold around the windows. 

“Mmm,” he murmurs as he looks around the open space. “It was nice ‘cos it was yours. It felt like you. But this does, too.”

“Water?” you offer. 

“Sure, thanks.” 

You fill up two glasses from the pitcher in the fridge and pad back into the living room where Namjoon is looking at the art on one of your walls. It’s a combination of your paintings and Tae’s photographs that the two of you thought complemented one another. 

“Your art.” 

“Yes…?”

“No…” Joon shakes his head and sets his water down on your coffee table. “Your art. It’s why I came back. That's why I’m here.” 

“Oh,” you squeak. It’s not what you expected—you didn’t expect an answer to your question, and even if you’d hypothetically received one, ‘your art’ wasn’t what you’d thought it would be. “I don’t think I understand. You want to buy one or something? You can just have a painting, Joon-ah... Friends and family discount. You didn’t have to come here for that.” 

He frowns and shakes his head again before he carefully takes your water glass and sets it on the table next to his. Then he reaches for your hand, and when you offer it to him, he guides you to your own sofa to sit. 

This time, sitting too close like you were in the noodle shop, you’re the one who’s nervous. Something’s up with him, and you’re not connecting the dots. 

“I saw your show. The solo one. Congratulations,” he says. His smile is warm like his hand that’s still wrapped around yours and it feels like you could maybe let your nerves settle a little bit. 

“Thanks. It was a lot of work, but worth it. I’m still a little surprised at how well it was received.” 

“I’m not.” He says it with conviction, and you love it. The hint of praise laced with his belief in you has always been a driver of your confidence; you don’t love that you need the external validation, but it’s nice, regardless.

“It reminded me of home,” he continues. “Made me sick for it. Like I couldn’t stand to be away from it for another minute. So, I told my work I needed some time off, and I came home.” 

“Oh… Okay. Well, I’m glad you felt something… I hope being home has been what you wanted.” 

“You don’t get it,” he says, frustrated. “I haven’t been home, not really. Not until tonight.” 

“Joon-ah…” 

“Please? Can I get this out?” 

And there are so many things to feel, you’re not even sure where to begin, so you just listen. It’s not easy to ignore the feeling of being on edge, the idea that you think you know where he’s headed with this. Since you’ve never even let yourself consider it (you’ve really not let yourself think about him much since he left. Certainly not recently), you have no idea what to think. So you focus on him instead; the tendons that run from his hands up his forearms that you used to love to trace with your fingertips, the way he’s filled out some since you last saw him—his chest and shoulders are broader, his jeans hug his thighs tighter than you remember… He looks good. Great, even. Everything you remember but a little bit more. Like he’s become the person he was always meant to be.

“I’ve dated a lot of people since I left,” he starts. And maybe this isn’t going where you thought it was. You scoff involuntarily, and he rolls his eyes at you. “Can you just listen to me?” he asks. 

You nod. “Sorry.” 

“Not at first. I missed you. I couldn’t figure out why you never… I don’t know… Tried to talk me out of it, never asked me to stay. I thought it meant that maybe you didn’t love me the way I loved you. After a while, a few months maybe, Yoongi told me I was depressing to be around, that I should try and make friends, meet people. He reminded me that I was the one who left, not you. And he was right.”

“I remember,” you say. It comes out a little harsher than you’d intended, but maybe not ever letting yourself think too much about him (especially about him leaving) has left you with some unresolved feelings you weren’t totally aware of. Namjoon’s jaw tightens, but other than that, he doesn’t react. Maybe he knows he deserves you being a little upset. Things ended oddly fine between the two of you, it was amicable, but if you’d let yourself feel everything back then, it might not have been that way. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice softer now. “I needed to go, though. You know I did.” He looks at you, waiting for you to give him some reassurance you think, so you squeeze his hand. 

“Yeah, you did, Joon-ah. It’s okay.” 

His fingertips trace patterns across your wrist and you can almost feel his body get looser when you give the small peace offering. “So,” he says, “I tried. I met people, I dated people, I moved to new apartments with new roommates to new parts of the city. I tried to get that feeling back. Not to… I don’t know. Not to replace you, but to feel like I was home. But nothing worked. Nobody worked. And then I saw your show.” 

“Oh…” It’s not much, but it’s the only thing you can think to say as he pulls you closer to him on the couch and runs a thumb across your cheekbone. It’s so much, it’s such a private thing for him to touch you like you're something breakable. Like you’re his, still. It’s making you short-circuit. 

“Home,” he says in a whisper. “I needed to come home.” 

“Home.” You repeat it like he’s taken all the words you used to know and pulled them out of your head to scatter on the floor in a mess. 

His lips are on yours before you have time to process, and you hear a whimper that you quickly realize must have come from your own throat as he kisses you more tentatively than you ever remember him kissing you before. You know this is him testing the waters, giving you time to decide if you want this—sort of—and maybe this is a one-night nostalgia thing for him, or maybe this is what forgiveness tastes like, and maybe it’s a terrible idea, but Namjoon’s lips on yours feel like home to you, too, and you don’t want to talk yourself out of something that feels so fucking right. You didn’t even let yourself remember that you missed him until now, and your chest aches with something like longing even though he’s here, he’s real, he’s kissing you. 

Kiss back, you remember suddenly. So you do. A slightly shaking hand moves to his thigh as you let him slip his tongue between your lips and lick into your mouth slowly. He’s firmer than you remember when you squeeze over his jeans and tilt your head to give him a little bit better access. The kiss, which started out so sweet, soon turns into something else entirely, and before you know it, you’re out of breath and letting out another whine when his hand drops from your cheek to around your waist and he tugs you even closer to him. You can feel him smile against your mouth when you pause to breathe.  

“Is this okay?” he asks, cheeks flushed, dimples out, and hair mussed. He looks like a dream. 

He looks like he’s yours again, and you want to let yourself have this, even if it’s temporary. 

“Yeah.” You nod too furiously to even look remotely cool or in control of the situation, and he laughs. It’s not like he looks much better off with his swollen lips and the stars in his eyes. “Bedroom.” You’re up and pulling him up with you before he can argue, practically dragging him behind you past Tae’s room and the bathroom to yours at the end of the hall. 

You move into your room and barely get the door closed before you’re being pushed back up against it, Namjoon moving his mouth down your neck, over your pulse point– all his attention focused on seeing what might make you shiver and whine. So much hasn’t changed. 

It’s odd, you think, as he finds the perfect spot, to have to learn this all over with someone. Does he remember all your places and all the things you like? Will he still be patient like he used to be, content to watch you get worked up because of his touch before he lets you focus on him? Will he have new things that make him moan, are there new things he likes that he learned from someone else? All these questions float through your head as Namjoon slowly slips his hands under your shirt and pulls it over your head. 

With your back against the wall, Namjoon drops to his knees in front of you and carefully unbuttons your jeans, slipping them down your legs with your underwear, groaning and face flushing when he finally gets you undressed. 

“You… are… incredible,” he mutters against your skin in between leaving hot, wet kisses across your pelvic bone. “I’ve missed you so much,” he adds as he hooks one of your legs and rests it on his shoulder. His breath is hot on your skin and it’s like you can feel it everywhere—he’s barely even touching you and every nerve ending in your body is responding, wanting more. 

As he brings his tongue to your clit, you let your head fall back against the door with a soft thud. He was always so good at this, he still is. His stubble brushes against you and makes shivers run up your spine. He’d probably not shaved that morning—you wonder if he did on purpose, remembering how you used to brush your cheek along his chin and tell him you liked it, how it made you feel soft and delicate when he wasn’t. 

His tongue works you over in long strokes, dipping inside on occasion and you hear him practically whine when he really tastes you. There’s never been anything hotter, you decide, than his deep voice so fucked out and turned on because of you. If you could get off on sound alone for the rest of your life, that might be the one you’d pick.  

When he finally slides a finger inside you, you moan—you’re so much louder than you’d meant to be, louder than you have been for anyone in so long, but he knows you. Knows your body, knows just how fast to move his tongue, how deeply you like to feel him inside you.

Namjoon’s lips form into a smile against you as he pauses, asking in a whisper, “Can I make you do that again?” before curling his finger inside you and taking your clit back between his lips. 

“Oh, fuck…” you whine. And yes, the answer is definitely yes. “Keep going,” you say as he fucks into you, giving you space to roll your hips away from the door and into his face. 

It doesn’t take much longer for you to come—Namjoon puts a large hand to your waist and helps support you as you tremble around him and your knee buckles. With a lot of effort, you ignore the quiet, private voice in the back of your mind that tells you that you don’t deserve this—that you shouldn’t be doing this, that you’ll get hurt again. Finally, your shaking subsides, and he moves your leg off of his shoulder and to the ground, keeping a grasp on you to help you stay upright. 

“You’re… still very good at that,” you say breathily. 

“Thank you. I’m pretty good at a lot of things, I think,” he says with a wink as he stands. 

You love when he’s cheeky like this, confident in a way that you remember being one of his best traits. Like he knows exactly what he’s capable of. It’s the first time you’ve seen him like this tonight and it makes you ache for things you don’t think you can have, for the past. He’s suddenly close again, so fucking close, and you can smell yourself on his lips and you can feel that he’s hard in his jeans. He leans in, even closer, bringing his lips to yours but not doing anything with them, and running a single fingertip across your jaw to hold your face in place—no place to look except at him, square in the eyes.

“Are there things you’re still good at?” 

Oh, holy shit. 

And you’d remained upright this whole time, but fuck if your knees aren’t ready to give in now. You swallow audibly and struggle to form an answer in your post-orgasmic haze, turned on by the nostalgia and the way he’s half-whispering, half-rasping. The intimate way he speaks to you  makes you almost drip again with desire.

“Well, if you’re not going to tell me, I guess I’ll find out for myself,” he says. Namjoon grabs your hand and squeezes, then leads you to your own bed. “Do you want me to find out? Do you want… me?” 

It should be something you have to think about longer, should be more of a consideration. But it isn’t at all. Your head is bobbing a ‘yes’ of its own accord and you’re slowly unbuttoning his jeans and pulling his sweater off before you really realize you’re doing it, before you can think about what it might mean in the morning. Before he slips out of his pants, he pulls a condom out of his wallet in the pocket and tosses it on the bed. 

The simple action has you a little nervous now, like suddenly this is real, and this is Namjoon, the actual love of your fucking life who left you, and he must see it on your face as you stand next to the bed, naked, facing one another, and unmoving. 

“Are you alright?” he asks.

“Yeah… I’m nervous. It’s been so long and it’s… you.”

Namjoon cups your cheek and brings his lips softly to yours. His other arm snakes around your waist and pulls your body into his—skin to skin everywhere, and it feels so good. His body really is different than you remember: firmer, broader, bigger, and you like it. It’s different, but just as good, you decide. Familiar and different at the same time, just like everything else about him. When he breaks the kiss, he finally speaks.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” 

“I do,” you say resolutely, convincing him and yourself at the same time. You bend over to grab the condom and feel his hands on your ass, so you stay, dropping to your elbows on the mattress, remembering how he’s always appreciated the view from that angle. “Do you still like it this way, Joon-ah?” you ask as you push your hips back toward him a little, leaning into the familiar to calm any lingering nerves.

And instead of answering, Namjoon slides his hands up your back and down your arms, pulling you up at the elbows and pressing your back into his chest. “Yes,” he replies. “But not this time. I want to see you, I want to know I’m taking care of you. I want to remember.” 

He starts kissing you then, lips on your neck, across your shoulders, hands wrapped around you—one teasing at your nipples, one firm around your waist. You do feel taken care of, and it’s nice, you decide, to be with him again. This part hasn’t changed. You meant what you said—he’s really good at this.

Eventually, you move to the bed, and you become a little more brave, letting yourself explore his body. As you lay facing each other, you run your fingers along the ridges of the muscles in his abdomen, stroke his cheekbones, let one arm snake around his ribs and then fall to his ass. He really is firm all over, and you find yourself more attracted to that than you’d anticipated. You murmur appreciations into his skin, telling him he’s worked hard, that he looks incredible, that you want to take your time and appreciate everything he’s tried to build. 

Namjoon watches you as you test the waters, carefully mapping the ridges and planes until you take his length in your palm and start stroking him. The first time he breaks eye contact with you is when you bring your other hand down and palm his balls, softly squeezing as his eyes roll back in his head and he lets out a long, low moan. 

Maybe things aren’t so different than you remember, after all. 

You touch and kiss and whisper until you know he’s been hard long enough and you’ve been stalling long enough, and his hand makes lazy circles over your clit, no problem getting you wet again. Namjoon rolls the condom on and pulls your leg up over his hip. He’s careful in a manner that’s completely him (but you’re no longer used to from your recent hookups) as he slowly pushes into you. And you’ve been in a lot of… positions in the last few years, but nothing quite this intimate: chests pressed together, arms wrapped around each other, noses touching, and Namjoon so deep inside you, moving so, so slowly. You’re almost not moving at all, and you had no idea something like that could feel so fucking good. 

It’s slow and sweet, and he kisses and caresses you, and you realize that this is was what people are talking about when they talk about the difference between making love and fucking. 

Namjoon is quiet, quieter than you remember, but the look on his face is reverent, like he can’t believe you’re letting him do this, like he can’t believe you’re real. And you know how he feels, and you want to reassure him and whisper how much you care about him and how you think you could still love him, but it’s all too much for the moment. So, instead, you just let out soft moans of approval when he rolls his hips in just the right way and otherwise try to focus on him and the way he’s making you feel, cock buried in you, better than anything has been since the night before he left all those years ago.

Your second peak comes steadily and seems to last a while as Namjoon whispers how beautiful you look and how lucky he is. The praise has you clenching around him and pulling his climax out of him, too. 

You stay intertwined as your breathing slows, kissing and smiling with pink cheeks and tired limbs. When you’re sure you can move, you slowly push back from him and roll off the side of the bed, grabbing his undershirt. “You mind?” you ask, holding it up. “I thought I’d grab water and if there’s anything else you want…” 

“Sounds great,” Namjoon replies, a sleepy smile on his face, obvious in his preening over you wearing his clothes again. 

You try not to let yourself think too much about what just happened as you retrieve your water glasses and fill them up again. You find your phone on the counter, next to Namjoon’s, and you shoot a quick text to Tae telling him you brought someone home and you don’t know if they’ll still be there in the morning. You don’t want your roommate to be surprised by a visitor. But you know if Namjoon’s still there when he gets home, Tae will definitely be surprised. 

When you pad back to your bedroom and click the door shut behind you, you realize Namjoon’s already fallen asleep, snoring softly. He looks ridiculous on top of your sheet with the duvet kicked down to the end of the bed, his big cock soft against his big thigh and his hair sticking up in fifty different directions all over your pillow. His lips have fallen open to let his stupid snores out, and you have never been more endeared to anyone in your life. 

Like a thunderbolt, it comes suddenly, the realization that you think you probably never stopped loving this man. 

You set the water down on your nightstand and crawl into bed next to him, careful not to wake him up, even though unless something’s changed, you know he’s a fairly deep sleeper. You pull the duvet up over both of you and settle into your pillow, thoughts of unresolved and maybe unrequited feelings still clouding your mind. 

He wakes up enough to roll over and sling an arm around you, possessive in a way you like. You miss being his, you miss the quiet way he loved you before. All folded up love notes and kind gestures and small gifts for no reason. You almost let yourself tear up thinking about how big your love for him used to feel—maybe still does. 

You’re fully spiraling, deciding this was probably a massive mistake, when Namjoon strokes his thumb over your stomach and nuzzles into the back of your neck. 

“Baby? You awake?” he mumbles, half-asleep. 

And fuck, you’ve missed the casual endearment from him. “Yeah.” 

“Do you want me to go?” he asks. 

And you know three years ago, if you would have said it, it wouldn’t have mattered. That’s the real truth of it. Because if you’d asked him to stay then, he wouldn’t have, and he would have been making the right choice to leave, anyway. So letting him go without putting up a fight was easier on both of you. It was the right decision then to not ask him to stay. 

But now? Now, after tonight, you know things aren’t the same as back then. Some of them, yes. But not the ones that matter, not the ones you’re thinking about when you reply. 

“No, Joon-ah… I want you to stay this time.”

You feel him smile against your shoulder and pull you tighter into him. Neither of you says anything more, and it’s only a few minutes before he starts his snuffling snores into your hair again. It feels nice, you think as you finally start to drift off. It feels like home.  

[azulas-lightning-bolt]

uhhh guys I just realized I have a really big problem

I’ve officially oc-ified mako I repeat I have oc-ified mako. it’s happened. do you know how I know this? I drew him (I know, shocker) with grown out-ish hair and a lightning scar on his face. HE DOESNT EVEN LOOK LIKE CANON MAKO ANYMORE BESIDES HIS DUMB EYEBROWS HELP

I genuinely cannot escape this goofy ass orphan.

anyway here’s a list of mako hcs (under the cut)

gets called pretty boy four hundred thousand times a day and bolin makes fun of him for it because he’s a big scary police officer who gets flirted with by criminals he brought in. and I know I have it in the tags of some old post somewhere but bolin got called champ by a girl he was on a date with once and mako absolutely used that against him in retaliation

he’s shy but not in the nervous around people way. he’s shy in the awkward really intense eye contact because he doesn’t want to sound weird when he talks way. if he didn’t have extrovert guidance counselor bolin he would just never speak to anyone

i also firmly believe he is either mildly autistic or has severe anxiety (he’s me)

he cries once a year (exactly 365 days apart) at exactly four o’clock on the hour and has done this since he was ten.

remember that one episode where mako was like ‘where’s chief beifong’ ‘are you okay chief you’ve been asleep for sixteen hours’ and ‘chief is really good at her job the city’s lucky to have her’ on zaofu. pretty sure it was ‘old wounds’? that’s how he is all the time. he says chief at least 463 times an hour and a month into working at the station people just give mako an update on the chief as soon as he walks up to them. she’s his mom your honor. tenzin is always fighting demons when he sees mako look at lin like she’s his mom and she’s like. chill with it. he’s like ain’t NO way. basically mako gets one female figure of authority in his life and immediately latches onto her as a mother figure. lin is grudgingly accepting because he’s kind of pathetic and sad looking (he reminds her of herself)

he’s transmasc. I don’t make the rules (I do in fact make the rules)

as you know from that one post, mako is absolutely a great chef.

I think he’d either be a charcoal artist or a really good writer. only charcoal artist, but he would do all kinds of writing—short stories, novels, poetry, journalism, whatever. he’d occupy himself on late nights he couldn’t fall asleep on an empty stomach with made up stories and he just started to get really good. but he also hasn’t gone to school since he was eight so he’d get frustrated if he doesn’t know the word for something. if he drew it would be hyperrealistic portraits (he’s trying to remembers his parents’ faces)

kind of related to that but I think mako loves reading/writing but is a natural math genius.

I know I’m a little insane about, like, character parallels but I just KNOW katara sees herself in mako.

so azula is my all time fav girl right. so she and mako both generally maintain a good poker face or a facade that masks genuine constant rage right. (just agree with me) but at the end of atla. azula’s breakdown. now, now hear me out. mako->azula style breakdown when he finally loses his shit. he’s just so girl coded and azula’s rage seems so. fitting for him I guess. it’s also the inherent feminine anger of firebending I guess? I’ll explain that one later. probably. hopefully. I have so many posts I’m planning to write oh my god.

korrasami r still in love with him and they all get together post canon 😋🤞🏼

HETEROCHROMIA!!! idc if it’s central or in each eye but that man has one gold/brown and one green eye.

the mako in my head also looks a lot more like bolin—and bolin might have some of the more angular fn features as well to balance them out and make them look like, yk, actual mixed kids.

that’s probably it for now but by god if I don’t update this list

[cloud-based-and-rainpilled]

Halfway through Staged 3 and pretty sure the reason it doesn’t “work” is the reason why Good Omens 2 does work: the natural progression of David and Michael’s and Crowley and Aziraphale’s relationships respectively is codependence. One show understands this, but the other doesn’t

tl;dr At bottom

Aziraphale and Crowley simply cannot exist without each other. They are “on their on side.” They have trauma bonded for centuries. When the external obstacles tearing apart Aziraphale and Crowley are removed, they’re left with their unaddressed trauma and can’t communicate their feelings

This internal conflict, which is long established, tears them apart. They are codependent yet can’t see eye to eye. This is a real conflict that feels natural

The big “a-ha” emotional moment at the end of Staged 2 is David and Michael realizing that (after every other character basically screams at them) they love and need each other. They are the only ones who understand each other; they are “on their own side”

When their external obstacles are removed, instead of exploring the intensity of their relationship and implied codependence, it forces conflict. Georgia messes with the room; Michael seems irrationally angry from the jump; the script relies on the meta nature of it for the humor. Everything feels “off,” and, well, “staged” for lack of a better word

The moment when Michael decides to go back into production because he’s jealous David did a role without him, there’s a bit of a throwaway line where he says “I can’t believe you’d do something without me.” It’s framed as jealousy of David working, but at face value, it’s, “How could you ever do anything without me?”

Exploring their codependence would have been more narratively sound and have a better baseline for comedy to come from it. However, this was never going to be possible, because while Staged isn’t “real,” inherently, because it’s meta, it kind of is

(Tinfoil hat time!)

This sounds sacreligious, but Michael Sheen is not convincing at all in this. He holds this resentment that seems to come from nowhere and feels hollow. The script isn’t helping much, but this is far lower quality wise than other performances he’s given. He does not want to be doing this shit again

Michael’s a (self-admitted) sensitive actor. He drowns himself in every role, especially Aziraphale, who he says “lol he’s literally me.” He cried on the last day of shooting; there’s absolutely no way the Breakup ™️ in Good Omens 2 didn’t affect him deeply, especially considering a 3rd season still isn’t confirmed

Imo he drags his feet because this entire season is the Breakup ™️ again, and he’s emotionally exhausted and doesn’t want to do it. If the script were better/had more levity/allowed for improv then maybe, but as it stands, it’s just a bummer, and everyone who watched it agrees

But I don’t think a plotline exploring David and Michael’s codependence would have ever happened anyway because, well, it would be really fucking awkward

Staged 1 is about them becoming friends, and, lo and behold, they actually did become close friends while shooting

Staged 2 is about them realizing how much they need and care about each other, and by their own accounts, they became much closer during this time as well

So, if Staged 3 were about them examining the closeness of their fake selves and the possible unhealthy aspects of it, that would force them to be incredibly vulnerable, not just as actors, but to their real relationship, because the events of Staged have mirrored how their friendship has developed

They are obviously not their characters on Staged, but there is a distinct pattern of a blur of real life and fiction. They run the risk of people falsely thinking they have a codependent dynamic and judging them accordingly, or, even worse, having to confront actually having a codependent dynamic, and in a very public way

I haven’t finished, so maybe their codependence is addressed, but right now it seems like it’s entirely avoided, which was a huge aspect of the ending of series 2. It makes the conflict feel forced and any interesting character exploration is blunted by antics

tl;dr In Good Omens 2, Crowley and Aziraphale are codependent, which is established, and creates conflict. Codependence is addressed in Staged 2, but barely acknowledged in Staged 3. A real point of conflict that could be interesting is ignored while forced situations are pushed instead, which aren’t as funny nor compelling

I believe personally that the ideas dried up for Simon, Michael was emotionally exhausted from the ending of Good Omens 2, and a plotline centered around David and Michael’s codependence in Staged was avoided because it would hit too close to home

Still haven’t finished it so it could turn around, but right now it feels like a big missed opportunity which came out of uninspired writing and avoiding self reflection

[paperstorm]

I’m the one that ask if I can be a little negative.. 😬

You know how you guys say you don’t like Michelle’s character and even her acting skills is not great from the other stuff shes in.. am I the only one that doesn’t love Brianna’s (Nancys) acting, idk how to explain how she sounds but I just don’t like her voice 😭 i think she like drags out her words. I really like Nancy has a character but not so much the acting, I feel like I could play her part and you wouldn’t notice the difference like they just picked anyone. but I was thinking maybe they did it on purpose? Cause I feel like her character is supposed to be the “funny” one who doesn’t get a lot of screen time but when she does she say’s outrageous stuff so they didn’t want her to be an over the top actress? Idk but I also don’t know cause I’ve never watched anything she’s in other then this so maybe that’s just how she acts

With Nancy in particular I feel like I don't have a good sense whether Brianna is a good actor because her dialogue is often sort of strange, I feel like she's given a lot of really awkward lines to say that might come out awkward no matter which actor was reading them. I also feel like Nancy is the character on the show with the least amount of an established personality. I really don't feel like we know who she is. We know some things about her, but she's often reduced to comic relief or to sassy quips and one-liners, and that isn't a personality. So I really wonder how much of it is the writing and not Brianna's fault at all, because scenes where I have found her to be a really good actress are things like her scenes after Tim died, her scene with Carlos in 3x03 at the hospital, her vulnerability in the softball episode. I thought she was really good in 3x12 with the storyline of her being sued for intentionally ignoring the DNR bracelet on that patient. She shines in more dramatic storylines for me, so I do wonder if it's more an issue with awkward writing and with the writers not having a very clear sense of who this character is which ends up with Nancy being a little bit all over the place.

But if you just don't like her than that is what it is, there's nothing inherently wrong with that.

[axemetaphor]

my dad got his hands on a copy of Sonic 06 for the xbox and asked me to be his play-tester after having a lot of trouble with that speed level right at the beginning (catching up to Eggman's ship on the beach) and i got as far as the Silver battle before giving up, so here's my notes

DISCLAIMER this isnt an invitation to dunk on the game in the notes of this post alright we've seen enough of that. i dont hate the game. no, really, i dont. i respect everything it tried to be and feel bad for literally everyone working on it because, from what i gather, they were green and facing extreme crunch time. sucks for everyone involved. anyway:

the load times on xbox were VASTLY better, which makes a lot of sense, given from what i know the ps3 has a ... strange way of storing/retrieving/loading data, but they were still pretty long and a little too frequent for my liking. still, probably not anyone's fault, tbqh. i'll have to see if the emulator my dad's working on getting on his PC (finally, he's been trying to do that for years now lmao,) has the same issue to figure out if it's a programming problem or hardware. personally im pretty sure it's just hardware.

it's much easier to steer sonic if you use the camera and his movement, but the camera will still fuck you over. this isnt 06 specific though game cameras are Always hard to wrangle lmao

the animations for this game are so strange... i dont say this as a negative whatsoever. it looks like they were mocapped, which is fascinating to me, translating human proportions onto sonic--it doesnt always work, and i personally wouldn't've made the choice to do that, but it makes me want to study it lmao

the voice acting as well is strange, at least in english; im not knocking anyone's work, whatsoever. i still really love the performances. but i think back to this one tweet i made about silver's intro dialogue where i mentioned that i loved the performance, but the poor guy sounded like he'd done a hundred takes of the audio and was losing grasp of Words themselves (As happens to everybody) and Silver's english VA not only liked the tweet but started following me because of it. this was during the trend of not actually giving VAs context for their dialogue, and not really.. respecting them at all, and it makes me sad to think that maybe they did stick everyone in a box, hand them lists of lines, and make them say them over and over until the director got whatever they wanted--or, on the opposite end, were only given enough time for a single take out of the inherent disrespect for VAs that's present in Many fields

the environments are fucking gorgeous and i was genuinely surprised by how many things i could interact with in the levels. granted, i did get stuck on them sometimes, but i doubt the poor devs got any chance to fix that shit. i liked especially ramming Eggman's Cerberus into a statue instead of the wall and watching the statue completely shatter, that's genuinely pretty cool, they couldve just had it be like the walls, static and unreacting. i also liked how the Cerberus decimated those pillars, but thats mostly because the camera kept getting stuck on them

there's very little active direction in the game, save for the floating (?)s, which can sometimes be wordy enough that ive already fucked up and died before theyre done talking. that's probably on my dumbass though.

collision physics in this game ... sure is. i cant remember if all games from the 2000s were like this given i have more experience with older games (pre-00's) + brand fucken new ones so someone else weigh in on this s'il vous plait.

the pre-rendered cutscenes are still fucking gorgeous. delightful.

so much of this game is such a lovely awkward development-stage kind of thing, like awkward teen years. the homing-attack mechanics make me grateful for the auto-targeting of later games. the way he goes from 0 to 100 is in character but hard to play (unwieldy) and makes me glad for the more measured sliding scale of other games. the sprint parts of the game, where youre just steering him, are so fucking cool but i am so fucking bad at them and im glad that in future games the sensitivity of the controls was turned down. it took me some lives to get into a proper rhythm with it, get a sense of just how much of a hair trigger the directional changes were. tails' attacks in this game definitely felt like they could've been much better (throwing the bombs is So difficult to aim, thanks to the camera and how long the animation for it is) and i'm glad they're different in other games--the bombs is a cool idea, just needed to be implemented differently imo

if you knwo more about the development n shit of this game id love to hear it, all i know is they had serious crunch time to release the game alongside the ps3 as its flagship game and had to cut a lot of steps from the process/cut a lot of corners. i attribute a lot of its flaws (and "flaws") to that tbqh. sonic 06 is not a bad game, it's a game that was failed by its circumstances. i dont know fully, im just an animator, i have never in my life made a proper video game.

also this may just be me but i have a theory that this game was meant to be like the Shadow the Hedgehog game, and not rated E for Everyone after all. the darker storybeats (sonic's murder, elise's death, silver's future etc) all feel like they'd have been better-executed at a level closer to that. it feels To Me like they were developing the beginnings of this game (script, designs) in tandem with the endtail development of ShTH, and when it received pushback for the guns, swearing, and violence, they panicked and had to neuter the story. i have a lot of respect for what the game COULD have been.

[asamiontop]

hey!!

quick question/praise

i love your writing so so much, wtstu will always hold such a special place in my heart. do you have any suggestions or tips for people looking to start writing fanfic? writing tips in general as well as tips for fics in specific?

i’m having trouble writing a solid beginning even though i know where the story wants to go. any tips for that as well?

additionally, how to capture the essence of the characters if that makes sense?

sorry for the loaded ask!!

thank you!! <33

👋 hello and thank you!! It’s so 🥺 to get asked for writing tips I don’t even know what to say besides trying to get you something at least marginally useful.

I’m not anything close to professional at this, and since Where the Snow Takes Us was like my first ever long thing, the best I can do is share my experience and hope that it helps!

In no particular order…

What got me started writing fic was basically a whole lot of reading it. I read and read and read until I was blue in the face and found myself craving content that I couldn’t find. When the idea bunnies nagged me enough, I gave in and started writing that content myself.

Reading lots of fanfiction for your fandom also helps capture the essence of the characters. Reading their reactions to hundreds of unique situations builds up a cache in your head of things that make up who they are. You carry that inherent understanding with you always, so while writing you can ask yourself what you think they would do/feel in the situation you’ve created. It also helps me if I can correlate a character’s personality to a person I know in real life. They don’t have to be the exact same, of course. Even if you identify just a few similar personality traits between someone you know well and your character, then you can ask yourself what your reference person would do to inform the character’s reactions. Imagine and play out your character’s reactions, their thoughts and feelings, what they might think vs what they might verbalize, and everything that goes on internally before putting pen to paper.

Beginnings are hard. It’s just kind of an awkward situation in general bc you’re trying to rope someone into your brainscape from scratch. With fanfiction it’s easier bc you can assume your reader knows the characters and the basic tenets of the world from your tags.

Usually with beginnings I tend to think of a really mundane situation that will become unique because of the way the characters treat it or because of what I know will happen in the future. (In wtstu the beginning is really mundane - Korra is covering for a friend at work.) People experience things every day that are easy to write about and relate to - so if you start with something mundane that your readers can quickly connect with, that’s a decent place from which to launch the rest of your story.

Alternatively I have read and enjoyed many openings that are, for lack of a better phrase, “self-aware” in the sense that the story seems to knows it is a story and introduces itself as such. Beginnings like “it was an accident the first time they kissed. This is what happened.” Those are a very different style but really fun too!

Writing tips… there are so many to be given! Here are a few that I think about a lot:

Use a thesaurus! Great word alternatives abound and frequently you will find some that are a little more specific and a lot more expressive for what you want to say

Use action verbs. Specifically, edit out most uses of the verb “to be.” It may seem difficult at first, but I suggest writing an excerpt and then going back and replacing all instances of “is.” Then reread and see if it sounds more polished. (Some other examples of using action verbs: “befriend” instead of “make friends with” OR “felt” instead of “could feel” OR “attacked” instead of “was attacking”)

Focus on maintaining a consistent verb tense. Personally I find it really distracting as a reader when a story slips from present tense to past tense and back again. So I always make an active effort to check and recheck and make sure I stay in the same tense. Usually when reading thru my own stuff, I always end up correcting some unintentional tense changes—they can happen really sneakily, so don’t feel bad if you find it in your work!

Flow is key. I reread my stuff a dozen times (not sure if that’s healthy but I’m a perfectionist and can’t let things go) and avoid excessive repetition of words, names, or sentence structure — all of those things can render the story monotonous or repetitive. I often remove details that at first glance seem important but actually detract from the main story or scene. Extra details can feel like bumps in an otherwise direct road and break the reader’s focus. Keeping those details in your head as an author adds a lot of depth to the writing, but know that the depth will come through even if all the background knowledge doesn’t make it into the words. What “flows” for you will be unique, but I suggest (if you have time) reading through your work and evaluating if it flows smoothly and without distraction.

Write what you want to read (or write). Don’t write for other people or what you think will get the most attention—if you’re not into the story, it’ll come off flat and uninteresting (because your own interest isn’t there to shine through!) Fanfic is most often a hobby, so do it for you.

Lastly, there are writing tip blogs to follow on tumblr! I recently discovered this and have been enjoying them a whole hell of a lot. Like lyralit, whose top posts have a ton of concrete examples of some of the tips above. Go scroll thru that blog and other related posts like this.

Sorry for the long, disorganized answer lol… there’s a lot to this! Hopefully this has helped a bit!

[borealis-hopping]

((WARNING LMAO, this post turned out a lot longer than I thought it would, sorry. Autistic idiot rambles about Jack Stauber for multiple paragraphs.))

TLDR; Watching Jack get popular as a fan who was there before he went viral has been great, however, most people only seem to view his art as nothing but a vehicle for their own. Taking inspiration from other people's art for your art is wonderful and fine, however if you ONLY view someone's art as nothing but a vehicle for your own, it's not great. Doing so ignores the intention behind it, covers up it's original meaning, separates it from it's artist, and ultimately strips it of it's worth as an individual art piece, even if that wasn't your intention at all. ((Also pls listen to more than just the same 4 songs, he has a pretty big amount of music out there and it's all really good, give it a try and stop listening to nothing but "Buttercup"))

vv Thoughts below vv

________________________________

Look it's 1am so idk if I'll word my exact feelings on this as ideally as I'd want to but like, I have mixed feelings on the fan base that has formed around Jack Stauber's work.

While yes it is good he's getting popular, and yes it is good he's finding success after all his years of work, and yes I'm happy people are enjoying his music, I can't help but find the fan base that has formed around his music to be fairly disingenuous.

And by disingenuous I mean, most people don't tend to care about the art of the music itself, what any of it actually means, or the heart and intentions put into it, or really Jack himself. Now ik this makes me sound like a pretentious dickbag, but it comes from a place of care.

I love Jack Stauber's work because it's so interesting to me. Not cause "oh wow it's so weird and fucked up!! Jack must be such a fucked up edgy guy to make such surreal art LOL." But because of the amount of soul is in his work.

I think people are too fast to dismiss surreal art as meaningless or weird simply for the sake of being weird, completely missing any thought the artist put into it. Like, if you have the capacity to suspend your disbelief even for a second and look past his arts surreal aspects, you'll see just how /human/ Jack's writing and art is.

While I'm not generalizing EVERY thing he's made or is going to make, ultimately I think Jack's work is about humanity. Human struggle both internal and external, with relationships, grief, communication, and the complexities of self image.

If you pay attention to how he writes his characters, all the dialogue feels really authentic. Like yeah I can imagine passing a person in public who sounds like that or would say that, or I could totally see a person in that context talking like that. He seems to have a really good understanding of people.

The way he portrays them is honest but not nihilistic. They're just people, and sometimes people are a bit weird, or awkward, or just plain dumb. But they're still people and they're not evil for being that way.

Even in Jack's more surreal shorts or songs, if you pay attention to the lyrics and context clues, you can probably derive meaning from it that in one way or another is fairly human and sincere.

Ofc surreal art that is weird or funny or off putting simply for the sake of being so has plenty of worth as well, and I'm sure Jack has just had fun here and there making strange stuff for the sake of making strange stuff. (Think "Nerpo") and that's valid too!

But ig what I'm getting at here is that, more often than not the majority of engagement I see w/ Jack Stauber's work outside of his YouTube channel, is people simply using his work as a vehicle for their own characters or stories, or fandoms.

Now I'm in no way saying that doing that stuff is inherently bad. I do it all the time! Finding inspiration from other artists as a way to express and expand your own art is beautiful and extremely fun, HOWEVER-

That seems to be the /ONLY/ type of engagement there is. Which, sadly, isn't great. Using someone else's pre-made art, especially music, as a vehicle for your own fandom/art isn't bad, however, if you ONLY view that person's art as nothing BUT a vehicle, even if it's not your intention, you completely lose sight of the art you're riding off of. You separate it from it's artist, disregard it's original meaning, cover up the intentions behind it, and ultimately kinda strip it of its own individual worth as a piece of art.

Anyways! Enjoying Jack's work is good but I wish more people would appreciate his work for what it is on it's own, as well as who Jack is as an artist and look at his work with a more realistic and proper perspective even if it does look "weird" or "pointlessly creepy"

Also this is a bit more petty and just how I feel but PLEASE listen to more than just the same 3 to 4 songs. There's nothing wrong with having favorite songs or just listening to the same few songs from an artist and not exploring the rest of their work, and like idc if saying this makes me sound like a shitty hipster- if you're gonna do that just PLEEAASE stop walking around and telling people you're this BIG Jack Stauber fan when the only songs you listen to are "Oh Klahoma" "Coffee" and "Buttercup"

He has SUCH a big selections of tracks out there if you include both the extended and non-extended micropop songs, as well as his albums. My personal favorite album is "HiLo", it means a lot to me and is getting me through a pretty tough time in my life rn. I recommend ALL of his music! Even his very first album, and the stuff at the start of his YouTube channel.

There's even people trying to compile his "lost media" on SoundCloud. Old and unreleased music he never put on YouTube. It's a fun thing to look into if you feel up to it!

[transselkie]

I have spent a lot of time lately thinking about privilege. I don’t have anything very special to say about it, except that I’ve really been thinking about how it shapes your life. How many ways I did have it or didn’t have it, and how those things made me who I am today. It’s strange to think how every innocuous detail of you can change your fate.

I’ve been watching a lot of shows with child actors lately and remember how badly I once wanted to be one of them. I always loved performance and as a kid I was insanely good at absorbing lines of dialogue and regurgitating them. In kindergarten if you read the words out to me I could sit down and memorize a multiple paragraph monologue in a matter of minutes and would frequently sit in front of a VHS player rewinding scenes of my favourite tv shows and memorizing them. I would memorize and reenact scenes, putting on different voices and postures to differentiate characters, crying on demand. I have no memories of it but people talk all the time about the time in grade two when I played a lead in a two hour school play where I never left the stage. I lived in a small town in the middle of nowhere where everyone knew you with five siblings and a family with a bad reputation but up until the day I graduated high school the thing my town knew me as was the kid who was in every school, church, or town play available. My high school teachers and guidance councilors encouraged me to go on to pursue acting.

I don’t think I am anything special. I can absorb and regurgitate dialogue but I rarely get it word for word. My delivery is often awkward and abnormal sounding. I fail to match my vocal and facial expression to the correct emotion so often in casual conversation, I can not imagine I nail it while acting. I still never know what to do with my hands. I fall back on numerous crutches that would surely become stale to anyone paying attention. Now that I am no longer cripplingly depressed I struggle greatly to cry on command. Being wholly truthful I think everything I had going for me back them was the people around me finding the symptoms of my undiagnosed autism a novelty. I can not imagine a genuine casting director would ever take me seriously.

But sometimes I can’t help but wonder what if I wasn’t raised in the middle of nowhere? When my whole life, my whole life, every adult who saw me on stage would tell me that if I lived anywhere but here I’d be on tv, surely if I was born into an acting family that would be the case, right? As a kid I thought it was great. I loved acting, and was so honored that people enjoyed it with me. But by God am I glad that I grew up in nowhere with no resources. Everything about actually being known horrifies me. I live in the city now and over the last couple of years there have been a couple of times that a stranger in public has recognized me from some local thing I’ve done. It makes my skin crawl. 

I don’t know. This doesn’t have any actual purpose or point I’m building to, it’s just something I keep thinking about. Because I do believe that if my parents were someone important they would have capitalized on this hobby of mine, and I would have delighted in being capitalized on. And then it would have ruined my life, like it does most children that happens to. Whether or not I actually have talent is besides the point. Untalented people with famous parents have been granted much greater opportunity than I could ever dream of. The thought experiment isn’t about what inherent talent I actually have, it’s about how sometimes being in a place of privilege is really just being so vulnerable to exploitation. Because if my mom could of put me on tv she would have. And I don’t even think she would have been intentionally exploiting me, but the effect still would have been the same. I don’t know. 

[nukenai]

My Weird Problem Has No Name and I Can’t Draw A Cutesy Comic About It So Here’s Yet Another Wall of Words

I don’t hate being touched. I love hugs. I love when my friends put their hands on my shoulder or their arms around them. Hugs, in particular, I think are phenomenally great and I love being hugged. I even like to be picked up and carried!

Skin is what I hate. Touching skin. Skin touching my skin. Oh my god. In my last relationship, my partner wanted to hold hands a couple times. That first time, at that moment, I realized how much I hate skin against my skin. I tried to explain this to them, because I was sort of just realizing it myself but hadn’t been able to articulate it before. They took it extremely personally and got upset with me.

Since I was a kid, I’ve hated being kissed. My mom forced physical affection on me a lot. Family would kiss me without warning. My mom would literally grab me and force kisses on my cheeks and I would feel absolutely disgusted and my skin would fucking crawl. I never wanted to be touched and I absolutely didn’t want to be kissed. Just the sound of kissing repulses me. So I don’t know if all of this is caused by all the forced affection from my mom or not, but I remember always being like this. And here’s the thing, I want to be able to like skin-skin contact and the like. I don’t have flashbacks to my mom kissing me when people touch me or anything.

Either way, this is how I am, and it’s a really awkward thing to talk about. Most times I’ve tried to bring it up to people, I’ve been treated like I’m being rude and offensive. Family and said past partner would huff and puff and be angry that I wasn’t enthusiastic about being touched. So I felt like something was wrong with me.

And I guess, in a way, there is! It’s not normal. But, it’s also fine. I don’t need to be normal. This is a Thing about me, and maybe it’s a weird and awkward thing that seems personal sometimes, but I swear it’s not.

Anyways, there’s another side to this. I think it ties in with my whole repulsion over having an organic body. I use strong words like “repulsion” and “disgust” because, when it’s bad, that’s how bad it gets. Lots of days I’m fine, I don’t think about it and I go about my day. But when I think about it, oh boy. I find my body absolutely repulsive, for reasons unrelated to my illnesses and conditions, too. I just hate looking at it. Lanky, pale, all covered in skin, it’s just inherently gross to me. And it’s nothing against other people!

Cause like. I am not attracted to people! Real life people, I can find them attractive in the face, sure. But human bodies are like... a nightmare for me. I think plenty of people are cute and pretty and handsome. But the idea of another human body being near mine, in an intimate way without clothing, is the absolute worst screaming nightmare I could imagine. On par with being covered in spiders. Just, an unimaginable horror.

And people can’t help but take offense to that! like, I don’t think YOU are ugly or gross. I just have negative interest in human bodies, in general, personally. This is a Me problem.

Maybe that’s why I’m exclusively attracted to fictional characters? Like, man, there’s NO chance of ever having to deal with SKIN, there.

Which brings me to my primary attraction to robots.

Metal is a very pleasant texture to me! And like no, I don’t mean that I touch a screwdriver and I’m like OOO AWOOGA and get weird about it. But if I had a partner made of metal, that would be great. I would like to touch them, and I’d like them to touch me! But clearly, that cannot happen.

Then there’s myself. I wish I could have metal instead of skin! Boy would that be nice. And it’s not just the skin, it’s all the internals too. Just absolutely a horror show for me, when I have to think about it. Which is a lot, because unfortunately I have to inhabit this body every day. And just, gah! What a nightmare.

It’s funny, because I tell myself, “if I just had a robot boyfriend, I would be able to deal with my organic body”. But that can’t happen. But, the other thing I primarily want can’t happen, either! I cannot have a robot body OR a robot boyfriend. So there are just no solutions for my problem at all. I have a couple things that can help it on my very bad days - and they’re a little goofy, but helpful. For example, I bought a pair of leggings with robot print, like they make my legs look like robot legs. I bought them during an extreme bout of dysphoria and when I wore them, I LEGITIMATELY FELT BETTER. IT’S INSANE. But things that aren’t leggings, like other clothing items, are either hard to find, expensive, or seem like they’d be uncomfortable (I don’t love tight clothing, because I feel it on my skin, and OH NO, SKIN!!!!!!! so yeah) but I may try something someday. Rave clothing companies make stuff like that, but I’m VERY picky about my patterns, because I don’t like steampunk or dark-colored cyberpunk aesthetics. I like clean robotics.

I think I meant for this to be more organized but it wound up rambly as always. I just need to type this stuff up occasionally to try to articulate my thoughts about it. It’s a hard thing to talk about, because when I say “I want robot limbs”, it’s not because I think cyberpunk vibes are cool, or I want guns in my arms or whatever. It’s a lot more complicated.

And then I think about that robot limb post again. “you wouldn’t be able to feel things with your fingers” says who?? “being human is beautiful” for you, I’m sure, which is great, but I am not you. “you wouldn’t be warm” this is the most insane persisting idea about robots to me. Robots are machinery. You car may be cool to the touch on the outside, but go ahead and stick your hand under the hood after driving somewhere! Machinery warms up, that’s why coolant exists! Come on. This isn’t hard.

I had a long talk with a close friend about this Issue of mine the other night. It’s not an easy thing for me to talk about in person. I don’t like talking about complicated stuff in person in general - text is so much easier for me because I get emotional and tongue-tied. But he like. GOT it. I told him these things I feel and he was like “oh yeah, I get what you mean and I can relate a little, and I understand what you’re telling me”. No condescension, no taking it personally, no “oh you shouldn’t hate your body that’s so sad”. It was the first time I’d talked to someone about this and they like, told me it was an actual valid thing to feel, and that they understood.

Aaanyways. There’s just another post about this. I’ve felt like this for decades and it’s nice to just. Put it out there once in a while. I get very defensive about this stuff despite now being surrounded by wonderful, supportive friends who don’t treat my feelings like a joke. I’m still getting used to that, and getting used to feeling comfortable talking about stuff like this without getting judged.

And now i need to go to bed.

[jungwookjins]

Hi! I'm introducing some friends to the untamed and making some notes on where the netflix subs don't give enough information/good translations, according to the fandom. I saw your translation of the 'to die by your hand' scene and it KILLED me, so I was wondering if there are any other particular scenes you think it's important to note a different translation? Thank you so much if you can!

ooh so there aren't any scenes i can think of where the translation falls so so short of the actual emotion and meaning as much as that one, however there are definitely some less dramatic instances.

in general, i would say that mandarin (and a lot of other languages from what i've heard) has a lot more inherent emotional depth than english, so in translation, a lot of the subtitles sound very emotionally neutral or ambivalent when they really aren't.

the instance of this that sticks out to me the most is during the confrontation between wei wuxian and jiang cheng at the guanyin temple (ep 48, ~9 minutes in) where wuxian says to jiang cheng「都不要放在心上了」(dou bu yao fang zai xin shang), which the subtitles translate as "please don't keep it in your heart," which i'm actually not really mad at as a translation, but it's just not a phrase used much in english, so it sounds slightly awkward/doesnt convey the emotional context of that phrase.

so for context, mandarin has multiple ways of saying, loosely, "don't worry." there's「不要擔心」(bu yao dan xin), which is probably the most common and versatile to say it, and there's「不要放在心上」(bu yao fang zai xin shang), which is the one wuxian says to jiang cheng. (there's other ways too, they're just not rly relevant here) the literal translation of it is "do not put it on your heart," which the netflix is pretty close to, but ofc that doesn't tell u much abt usage. the way i've explained it in the past was, say u made a mistake at work and were beating urself up over it.「不要擔心」is something your coworker or boss might say to you to essentially say "hey it's no big deal, don't worry about it, ur fine;" it can be very casual. whereas, once you get home and start talking abt ur bad day at work,「不要放在心上」is more likely something your parent/sibling/partner/other loved one would say to you as they put a bowl of ur favorite soup in front of u. it has a level of inherent familiarity and deeper desire to comfort the person ur talking to than「不要擔心」. (note: i say inherent bc「不要擔心」doesnt have to always be casual/relatively emotionally neutral, it can be said w emotion ofc but the words themselves do not carry as much emotion as「不要放在心上」.

other than that, i’m not remembering any other specific scenes rn (if i remember smth, i’ll rb w the addition and @ you), but one thing that happens throughout the show is translation discrepancy when characters are addressing each other. for example, when wuxian and jiang cheng talk to yanli, the subtitles always have them both addressing her by name, but in chinese, family members often dont address each other by name, like my younger brothers both call me 姐 (jie), which means older sister. jiang cheng calls yanli 阿姐 (a-jie) most of the time (the 阿 at the beginning is just a prefix used in front of names and other forms of address to express familiarity, it’s the same character used in a-yuan). wuxian calls yanli 師姐 (shijie), which is what you call a senior female fellow student studying under the same master/in the same school/etc.

(rest under the cut bc this got rly long)

nie huaisang calls mingjue 大哥 (dage)/哥 (ge); 哥 means older brother and 大 means big, so 大哥 is often used for the eldest brother (esp common if there are multiple brothers). an interesting thing is that wangji does not call xichen 哥 or any variation of it, rather he calls him 兄長 (xiong zhang), which also means older brother but is a term of respect and much more formal, so that’s also a reflection of their characters and upbringing. 兄長 is not in common use nowadays but 哥 very much still is.

after nie mingjue, lan xichen, and jin guangyao take their oath of sworn brotherhood, they also change their forms of address with each other. for example, guangyao calls xichen 二哥 (er ge), which means second older brother (since xichen is the second oldest) and calls mingjue 大哥 (like huaisang does). (i feel like i vaguely remember guangyao being called 三弟 (san di), which means third younger brother, by someone but don’t remember if it was xichen or mingjue.)

(also impt to note that in chinese culture, familial terms as forms of address aren’t strictly reserved for family (whether that be blood or found). for example, in a casual setting, you can address any woman who is your parents’ age or between their age and your grandparents age as 阿姨 (a-yi) (or name + 阿姨), which is the term for your maternal aunt, and you can address any man of the same age range as 叔叔 (shu shu), which is what you’d call your paternal uncle. similarly in a familiar/casual setting, you can call women older than you but younger than your parents 姐姐/name + 姐, like the daughters, who are all younger than me, of my parents’ friends call me jessie jie-jie. and you can call men in the same age range 哥哥/name + 哥, like how wang yibo calls xiao zhan, zhan-ge. the same applies for people younger than you, with which you would use 妹妹, younger sister, and 弟弟, younger brother.)

another example is that jin guangshan calls jiang fengmian 江兄 (jiang xiong), 江being his family name ofc and 兄 meaning brother (same character as in 兄長, which wangji calls xichen), since they’re of the same age and status and their wives are sworn sisters. xichen, on the other hand, calls fengmian 江宗主 (jiang zong zhu), which means sect leader jiang. in the subtitles, these are often just translated as “you,” when they’re talking directly to him. 

so in general, there is a lot of information abt characters’ relationships, level of familiarity with each other, age, etc that is contained in their forms of address that just doesn’t come across in the netflix subs, since those default to their names like 80% of the time.

hope this helps!! if u (or anyone else) have other questions/scenes ur wondering abt, feel free to ask, i’m always down to talk translations. and if you want to see more of my beef w netflix subs a;lskjdf, all of my cql gifsets with dialogue on them have either been translated from scratch by me or i’ve edited the netflix translations, and i usually put some notes abt my translation in the tags. any sets that i’ve translated from scratch are under my translations tag, though most of these are actually for word of honor/shan he ling and not cql.

edit: check my reblog in the notes for some more additions!!

[ktheist]

take my whole life too | m

muses. jeongguk x heir!reader

genre. chaebol au. arranged marriage au. expecting parents au.

words. 5k

warnings. dad!jeongguk, house husband!jeongguk, simp!jeongguk, implied smut verging on actual smut, mentions of break up and arguments

x

you never gave much thought for jeon jeongguk - not for how he looks, not for how much he makes, not for how compatible you are together. nothing. so much for promising to stay together through health and sickness till death do you apart.

but that’s just the thing, you were willing to let go of your heart in exchange for the wealth of your family. which is inherently yours until the findings of your grandfather’s will appointing his administrators the task of safeguarding the billions of dollar estate against his unmarried granddaughter who to be fair, has always had her eyes on that bejeweled ring of his. it’s less about the diamond and more about what possessing - legally, of course - the ring could do. for one, nobody could challenge your legitimacy as the chairman of luxean. and boy, do your overbearing aunties like to nitpick every little thing you do at the board meeting just to put their sons and daughters in a better light.

so yeah, you would say sacrificing your non-existent possibility of falling in love would suffice. plus, jeongguk can go shopping for convertibles with a swipe of a card, fly from london to italy to greece and back to london within one night. heck, he can even have a steamy hot night with the locals and bring back a greek goddess of a mistress if he wanted to.

except for one problem: he wants to do all those things with you.

well, considering how he stripped down to just pants with the buckle undone and protrusion of well defined abs that leads to a tantalizing v-line beneath the contrasting black band of his calvin klein halfway to the bedroom of your suite after the ceremony, completely disregarding the fact you never spoke to him unless you were in the presence of other people - watching eyes - and the limited time you have to change into your second outfits, you figured he’d want more than just hot and steamy nights in paris and peaceful quiet mornings in athens in your sundress and off white spring hats.

he either hasn’t figured out that he’s just a tool for you to gain public opinion or he doesn’t particularly care as long as he’s getting some.

“you’re leaving?” the voice that asked the very obvious question bears a sort of despondency to it.

when you turn to face the man lying naked - and looking like a well sculpted greek god at that - in the bed, you curse yourself for forgetting the one simple thing that you promise yourself not to do: look at him in the eye. by god, you’ve never seen anyone -  any man - who could be so good at weakening your resolution and making you want to climb into bed and cuddle him like a puppy.

“didn’t soyeon tell you i have a meeting?” you manage to sound casual about it for the most part as you put on the earrings that lie abandoned on the vanity when jeongguk came in just before you were almost done with your make up and bent you over the vanity to fuck you once before carrying you to the bed and fuck you in your sensitive state.

“i know,” he mumbles.

and when only silence follows suit, you can’t help but let your hands rest on your hip as you raise your eyebrows, “but?”

it takes a moment of the man trapping his bottom lip between his teeth and leaving it with a sort of pinkish shine when he releases it, “can we have another go?”

“you’re hard?” this time, the surprise in your voice is unconcealable, “again?”

“i know - i’m sorry - it’s just... that dress looks really good on you,” he doesn’t even bother to hide his ogling.

so to answer the question of whether you fucked him that time at your suite when you were supposed to change, yes you did.

“sounds like a you kind of problem,” you wave with the hand that picked up your purse - all your essentials already there, “go out and have a look at athens before we fly for london tomorrow - oh and maybe grab some dinner for yourself.”

“when will you be back?” as much as you like to think you’re indifferent to your husband, you can’t help but think he looks endearing for shying away from your gaze and rubbing the back of his head hesitantly, “i thought maybe we could have dinner together.”

there’s a strain in his voice but you brush it off, shrugging, “what do you think meetings like this are held over? i am going for dinner,” you want to take that back as soon as it escaped your lips but instead, you turn around, “anyways, don’t wait up.”

that’s one habit that he seems to have - waiting for you until you climb into bed with him after long hours of frying your eyes in front of the laptop in the common area.

either way, you strut out of your suite, leaving your husband with a semi-hard cock, you didn’t miss the way it twitched at your blatant rejection just before you turned your back on him.

and so you go about your day, the meeting coming to a close flawlessly as with a signed contract and a meal worthy of the restaurant’s reputation. by the time you thought the approaching figure from the corner of your eyes is the waiter bringing your desserts, kim taehyung was in the middle of thanking you “for meeting me on such a short notice, on your honeymoon at that.”

“i should thank you for reaching out to my secretary when you heard i’d be here too,” you chuckle, hand pushing a stray hair to the back of your ear before your gaze travels up to meet the man’s, “my grandfather always says, there’s no security on this earth, only opportunity,” raising the wine glass mid air, you offer him a smile, “and god does not help anyone seize it unless they do so themselves.”

“the late chairman was a wise man,” he raises his own glass, only to freeze at an awkward angle when the waiter finally approaches you.

except it isn’t the waiter. 

it’s-

“___,” a voice fills your ears like velvet on skin, you already know who it belongs to before you even look up at the man whose out-of-character furrowed brows and pressed lips all but makes you want to shoot up from your seat and spout out explanations you don’t even owe him, “i thought i’d pick you up since it’s,” he checks his rolex - it was the first thing you bought him after assessing his lack of accessory after you’d both signed the contract, “half an hour till midnight and the polignotou isn’t going to wait for us.”

taehyung is the one to break the silence, “it seems i’ve taken up too much of your time.”

before you can even refute it, he’s already standing up and fixing his blazer before stepping to the side to properly face your husband. 

“congratulations of your marriage, mr. jeon,” then he turns to you, his smile just as excellent at yours when it comes to hiding your emotions and that could only mean that tonight is drawing to an end on a bad note thanks to your husband’s interruption, “mrs. jeon.”

and with a final words of ‘i’ll have my secretary send you the papers soon’, he’s gone like the wind.

“what are you doing here? i told you i had a meeting! not gallivanting with some greek men!” the words come out in a low hiss when he takes the abandoned seat across from you as you gaze around the vicinity in case there are other business acquaintances that happen to know you.

“i’m sorry -” he mumbles out, “i was walking down the streets and i saw you at the balcony of the restaurant and-” he stops short of his words, tongue darting out over his lower lip for the briefest moment.

“and?” you echo, brows arched.

“i got jealous of seeing you with another guy,” his voice is barely above whisper but you hear it loud and clear.

you’re almost sure that you’ve slipped but and let your eyes narrow at him like a puzzle that you can’t figure out but it’s gone in a heartbeat as you pick up your purse and clear your throat. possibly in search for the right words to say but perhaps also an admittance of your caught-off-guard situation.

either way you stand up, “let’s go, the street starts getting scarcer by 2 and i’d rather stay safe and walk with more people than less.”

x

you did end up walking.

it was a halfway walk but it’s still a walk, that was, until you saw jeongguk pulling on the material of his pants every two minutes. the lack of lights did well to hide it but even then, your eyes automatically pans towards the noticeable protrusion in between his legs. as if your body has completely adapted to his scent - that subtle but evident scent of masculinity, his gaze - the pure, unadulterated desire within the shadows in his eyes and his touch - the way his hand seems to inch lower down your ass before he traces back up to settle on the dip of your spine before it left you cold and unattended when he started to tug on his pants.

“jeongguk -ah, fuck,” you bite back the moan that spills over your lips, “you’re making too much noise.”

“yeah?” his voice bears a lull to it as he thrusts in and out of you in the way that makes your legs come together and your heart leap all the way to your throat as your hands grip onto the dampened cart jeongguk pushed you against in the closest alleyway you were walking towards before he bent you over, lifted up your dress and pulled your panties down.

not even a minute passed before you felt him inside you. and by god, did you feel filled to the brim. the sheen of sweat coating your skin is cold against the chilly night air, the sinful sounds echoing off the walls makes you pray for the first time in a long time that no one is nearby and the way jeongguk is hitting all your sweet spots has you gritting your teeth in hopes that it’d be one less sound to get you arrested for public indecency.

in a country that you’re not a citizen of, at that.

you’re not sure how you got back to your suite and how the hell did you switch into your night dress but you have an inkling that it has something to do with the man whose arm traps you against a hard, muscled body when you started shifting to wake.

his breath fans the back of your neck as he slurs his words but you can make out a ‘five more minutes’ after a grumble and a faint ‘chaeyoung’ at the end.

“no,” you’re not sure what or who you’re saying the words of rejection to, but you slam a fist into arm that’s holding you, “let me go! jeongguk! let me go!”

he finally does at the bloodcurdling scream that could wake up the whole city. but somehow security hasn’t come bursting through the door and the streets in front of your room hasn’t halted its hustling and bustling.

“wh-what happened?” jeongguk’s wide eyes scan the room for the one, solid minute before they rest on you but instead of settling with the deduction that your scream was caused by his own entrapment - possibly the unfamiliar name he blurted out - he crawls over to you, “are you okay?” hand on your cheek as he checks for something.

they return to your eyes when you slap it away though.

you’re not even sure why you’re seeing red but you attribute it to the fact that- “how did i get in this?”

he takes one look and blinks, “i changed you because you fell asleep in the cab and i carried-”

“why?” arms crossed over your chest, you speak over him.

“i... i thought you might be uncomfortable sleeping in that dress,” you can almost hear the screws in his brain turning in search for answers.

“stop, okay? don’t act like you’re some award-winning husband - you’re not, you were broke and was about to lose your only source of income when i came to you and asked if you wanted to not have to work a day in your life,” he must’ve not known that his eyebrows twitch at the words, “it’s always been about the money - i get it, so you can stop now. we don’t have to play house when no one’s around because this isn’t an actual marriage and we don’t even love each other.”

you expected the stars in his eyes to dim out, expected him to avert his gaze somewhere to the most random thing like the ugly vase next to the door or the phone on the nightstand or the window where the sound of kids laughing and vendors across the street obnoxiously greeting his neighboring competition.

but instead, he looks straight at you, “what is it then?” he asks, “what are we if those good night kisses, cuddling into each other in the middle of the night when we woke up briefly before falling back to sleep, holding hands while walking and making love every night-”

“i don’t know where you got that because i never kissed you, i never asked you to wait for me to go to sleep together and i never touched you first - they were all you,” your head dips to the side just the slightest bit, ���and we had sex every night. that’s it - it’s just sex.”

the last thing you see before you climb off the bed and lock yourself in the bathroom, dialing up your secretary’s number to book a plane ticket for yourself, is what you’ve initially expected to see.

stars that don’t shine as bright as the morning they twinkle and greet for the first time of the day. brows that knit together but not because he’s anxious or nervous about telling you something.

when you stepped out, he’s gone and you don’t leave any notes. not even a text after you packed up your belongings, hailed a cab and went straight to the airport in your darkest shades and brightest dress.

and so it goes, not a single rumor about your early arrival in seoul and your lack of spouse with you. mainly because jeongguk and you have put up quite a show for those watching eyes. a love story worth spectating and an ending keenly awaited. but you’ve made it clear, during your about-to-hit one month honeymoon that you’re truly, deeply, madly in love with your chosen husband, so much so, that you’re willing to leave the chairman seat unguarded. 

it’s a gamble but it worked like magic. the board members welcome you back into the company without any inquiry even though you’re one week too early. mr. yoo even seems relieved to see you when you’re on your way to your office on your first day back.

“it’s nice to see you again, miss ____ -” he stops himself, “i mean, mrs. jeon.”

you shake your head, laughing, “miss ___ is fine for me, everyone’s known me as that for so long.”

when you reach the end of the hallway where you have to part to go to your office, and him to his, you tap him on the arm once with a hand that lacks a wedding ring but he doesn’t seem to care as he dips into a bow and bids you a good day.

and so it goes, you start burying yourself in your pending works while also juggling surprise visits from two of your aunts, to which each does not fail to not-so-discreetly give your left hand a once over. but you’re faster, having kept your ring in the drawer and pulling it out and slipping it on under the desk before standing up to greet the elder women both times without fail.

on the day jeongguk and you were supposed to return, you’ve debated on booking a hotel just because you don’t want to face him - soyeon briefed him about your sudden departure back to korea and that there was no reason for him to come back with you. and so he stayed. travelled to london and then to glasgow with a black card and unlimited possibilities - just liked you promised him on the day you signed the contract.

things might have gotten off track but coming back to the familiar scent of ocean from your candlewicks and the bonzai that belonged to your deceased grandfather in the corner of the room, you’ve found your purpose again - the reason you would go so far as to sacrifice your heart for this position.

you’re never going to lose sight of it ever again.

but when the door beeps once after you punched in the code, the smell of something delicious waft in the air after you stepped into your apartment and jeongguk greeting you with a pink apron with printed with hearts all over it, you feel yourself freezing in your spot.

“oh, you’re back?” his back is on you as he redirects his attention to the sizzling goodness in the hot pan, “i’m making fried noodles, it’ll be done it 10 minutes - why don’t you go and change first?”

it takes a moment of you staring at the black tresses of his head and the broad shoulders with a pink string hanging over the back of his neck before you actually take a step towards the stairs. once you’ve showered and dressed in your pajamas - you prefer those than the lingerie jeongguk has only ever seen you in - it takes another moment for you to stare at the golden strings layered with button mushrooms, beef slices and prawns and a fried egg over them.

“okay,” you shake your head, as if to shake away the trance that seems to come over you - jeongguk’s already looking at you with a curve on his lips, “what is this?”

“friend noodles,” he says simply.

“no,” another round of head-shaking passes, “i mean, what are you doing? i literally insulted you and called you a bum and a gold digger.”

he takes a minute to mull over the matter, bottom lip jutting out as if to say, “yeah, i kinda am.”

“you must also not realize that i only talk to you when we’re in public or when we’re having sex,” you point out, fork gripped tightly in your hand to which he gives a glance at before reaching to pull it out of your grasp and setting it on the napkin next to your plate.

“love making,” he reiterates but before you can even get a word out, he holds up a hand and tilts his head in a ‘wait’ kind of manner, “and a relationship is 50-50, you work and i cook and clean.”

your eyes narrow at him for the longest moment before you pick up the fork again, this time dipping it into the strands of gold and twirling it before directing it to yout mouth. an appreciative moan leaves you as the spice and sweetness spread over you like a whole new experience.

“good right?” jeongguk mimics your action, digging in and smiling proudly with the first bite.

it’s only when you’re done and loaded the dirty dishes into the washer, as you watch him take off the apron with his back on you whilst you lean against the edge of the counter, do you finally ask, “who’s chaeyoung?”

the way he freezes up with hands middair, in the middle of hanging the strap over the hook - isn’t the least bit surprising.

“wh-who?” the hesitant way he looks at you and then to his feet and then to the sink with a hand rubbing the back of his neck - is familiar. welcomed even but you don’t show.

“you tell me,” you shrug, “must’ve been someone important - someone who you’re used to having wake you up.” you let the silence hang in the air for several heartbeats, watching as his adam’s apple bob whilst his wide-eyed gaze shifts from the sink to the block of knives to the stool before they rest on you.

“maybe a girlfriend you left behind in exchange for money - the money i offered you,” and with that, you watch as his gaze shakes and his pink move but no words come out.

it’s only a long moment later, that he finally manages to find them, “i... i haven’t seen chaeyoung ever since we got married.”

“well, congratulations!” you bring your hands together in a crisp applause, lips curving into one of your schooled smiles, “soyeon contacted her and guess what she said? she said you told her you were going to the city to find a job and didn’t want her to wait on you which was why you broke up but poor little chaeyoung is still waiting for you on the country side - you can go see her and your parents.”

and with that, you turn your back on him for the first time since you left him to an empty suite and a cold bed. 

“why are you so...” but just as thought you could walk out of this like a winner, jeon jeongguk somehow manages to pull you several steps back with just words and eyes that bears more emotions than you can handle, “mean?”

“you’re always smiling and laughing with your secretary like you’re best friends, you always look sad when you talk about your grandfather and you always kiss your parents on the cheek every time you meet them... why-” he stops short when he meets your gaze - you’re not sure what he sees that makes him look like he’s been punched in the face with a wild ball. 

“i’ve always been mean,” you feel your eyebrows rising before you blink once, “you just had your head in the clouds, dreaming about how you can make a girl with a rotten attitude change and maybe fall in love with you along the way - well guess what? i’m not her,” and just like that night in athens, something in the way he stands, stiff like a rock and eyes darkened with a sort of desire, your eyes travel down to his pants where a painfully obvious erection protrudes against the fabric of his pants, “...and you like it.”

“no, i - this - it’s...” he fumbles on his words as he clasps his hands over his crotch, but the way his eyes seem to find solace at the sight of your cleavage screams desperation and agony.

“___... you don’t have- fuck,” the first moan falls out of his mouth when yours wrap around him. 

“only because i can’t have a proper conversation when all you’re concerned about is how to take my blouse off from all the way across the room,” you say after a delicious ‘pop!’ when your cheeks hollow out just before you pull away.

it takes only a few more pumps before he’s begging you to “wait- please - i want you.”

it’s the ‘please’ that gets you.

“fine but don’t come inside,” you relent, hands fiddling with the zipper of your skirt before jeongguk’s polite ‘let me’ as he bends you over the counter, chilly air kissing your skin as a tear echo against the wall and you wonder if you’re free in the weekend to go shopping for-

“oh my god,” the moan slips out of your mouth in a pleasured surprise - you didn’t expect him to get your pantyhose, panties and skirt out of the way that fast.

thought with the barely noticeable discomfort of your panties digging into your hips, you figure he opted for keeping them pushed to the side instead of getting rid of them completely.

they do come off anyway, left in the trail of clothes strewn along the way to the stairs where jeongguk decides to have you bend over because “it’s a perfect place for a doggy,” and you concur as you moan and whine while he fucks you like he owns you. hand keeping your hair in a lock whilst he holds your upper body up whenever you’re about to lose yourself and bury your face in the steps. 

but you do manage to get to the bedroom, just not the bed. you made a mess on the carpet - it’s going to stain an ugly shade of sex and lust but soyeon will probably not even bat an eye once you ask her to schedule an appointment with an interior designer. might as well give your room a make over.

so it goes, jeongguk likes to call your eye rolls and offers to lend him a driver to drive him to his hometown to meet the love of his life - cute. alternatively, jealousy. which you simply roll your eyes at, again.

at times, he comes over to your office - mainly to take you out for lunch but ends up fucking you over your mahogany table. and later in the car on the side of the road where an officer came knocking on the fully tinted window - you had at least 60 seconds to button up your shirts and pull down your skirt while jeongguk zips up his pants with a whine before you roll your window down.

how the rest goes, you rather not say.

but you’ve sworn against car sex - at least in daylight and in an open space.

so when you end up walking past a mirror in your room, just as you’ve donned an off white blouse and a grey pencil skirt, you find yourself freezing in shock. hands coming to cup your stomach, you squint at the woman who’s squiting back at your belly.

“honey, breakfast is ready,” jeongguk pokes his head into the room, the infamous pink apron tied around his front and a pair of light orang oven mitts on his hands.

“do you think I gained weight?” you quiz, knowing full well that he’ll spout a heartwarming but blatant lie about-

“no, i think you’re a healthy weight,” a man that looks like him comes to hug the woman in the mirror, kissing her head before glancing at his reflection once and turning back to it, squinting his eyes at the part where your hands are.

“uh,” he hesitantly starts, “how much chipotle did you have last night?”

“not enough that’s for sure,” you turn to him with an incredulous look, “i went to bed hungry,” a light smack lands on his chest - to which he doesn’t even bat an eye, “cause you keep stealing my food!”

“maybe we should book an appointment,” he suggests, voice smooth but the glint in his eyes and the suppressed smile on his face gives away his exitement.

“no, i can’t be pregnant,” you shake your head, walking over to the vanity to pick up your purse and keys, “it’s not the right time.”

“but what if you are?” you hear the hurt in jeongguk’s voice but your interest overrides your emotiones.

“i just can’t be,” and with that, you place a kiss on his lips, “i’m sorry, baby.”

and with that, you left for the kitchen when jeongguk still tried to reason with you. he tried again for the next few days until you set your food down and told him a baby is never going to be in the picture.

but two months down, you barely fit your clothes and jeongguk has been kissing you good morning before bending down and pressing his ear to your belly, “and good morning to you, my little blueberry.”

and he’s been kissing you good night before pecking your stomach and wishing the life form growing inside you a ‘come out fast so mommy and daddy can meet you, okay?’

“good news and bad news,” soyeon said exactly one month ago after you’d fainted in a middle of a meeting and woke up in a hospital room, “you can’t be pregnant but you are and you’re gonna need an heir soon anyway so...”

“it’s bigger than a blueberry now,” you point out  - jeongguk’s been calling your child a blueberry ever since he rushed to the hospital after getting a call that his wife fainted and once he was there, got flashed with a sonogram the size of- “the doctor said it’s as big as a blueberry, not chipotle,” you’d been indifferent, mainly because a child wasn’t in your plan and you’d been taking birth control since way before you got married.

but jeongguk had been overjoyed. taking care of you everywhere you go, he didn’t even let you drive and instead searched up for drivers with a long list of the lowest rates of accidents in their records. he gets into the shower with you because he “can’t wait to have a family shower together” and packages of baby clothes have been pouring in with matching shirts and ‘mom’, ‘dad’ and ‘baby’ printed on each one and he shows them to you after you got back from work.

his love for your child had made you fall in love with being a mother. with having a family of your own - the two notions you never thought you could wrap your head around as you made your vows to each other two years ago. 

and it’s somewhere down the line, as you watch jeongguk rock your baby in his arm as she sleeps soundly amidst the beeping of the heart monitor, jeongguk’s voice like a lullaby as he murmurs ‘you’re so beautiful, you have mommy nose, and my lips, thank you for being born,’ and when he twirls around, probably feeling the heat of someone’s stare from all the way on the bed, he looks at you with that lost, wide-eyed wonder before his lips curl into a smile, eyes disappearing into crescents.

-it’s then, do you realize that jeongguk has become the person you smile and laugh with, the person you greet with a kiss and the person your heart beats for.

he’s your husband, lover, soulmate.

x

note. i have another preview with the same title and characters but from a historical era which i haven’t managed to finish but if you see a marquis!jk and x heir!reader then yk hehe. also if you like arranged marriage au’s do check my masterlist! i have a lot of them apparently (i just realized while writing this fic lol)

i’ve been super stressed and feel like i haven’t actually been doing anything i really like in the weekend so i sat down and decided to finish this draft idea once and for all! 

first off, oc is a douche bag who cares about herself a lot but it’s written in her pov which i hope portrays a justification (which isn’t necessarily okay) to the things she do. but in other people’s story, she’s that woman who stole a person’s man, or she’s that hard ass boss that nobody really likes but pays good, or that graunddaughter that seems to think about her grandfather’s money only. but no one is easily good or bad, it’s more than that just like oc. and i hope to send at least that message through this story. not one can be just ‘good’ or ‘bad’.

in my opinion, there’s no development in her character bc of the word count and the fact that i didn’t plan for it to be long enough to include a development. i just wanted to write about an asshole who has feelings and can be nice to certain people. she’s probably still an asshole but her feelings for jeongguk changed and so is her treatment towards him (as per foreshadowed) and he became one of the people she loves - and i say probably because we’ll probably never know for sure and it’s also not up to my interpretation alone. you, the readers, may think she has or may think she hasn’t - either way, this is just a story about someone who you might know, maybe someone who you’d dupe as selfish. either way, i hope yall enjoyed it!

[roscgcld]

THE LOVE OF AN OLDER BROTHER || INUMAKI TOGE

request: Okay if you accept sibling fluff can I request inumaki toge little sister reader(in elementary school) ,where she's deaf and gets bullied for it but doesn't tell him because she thinks it's to much of a burden(like silent voice)

note: hello love! thank you so much for your request! tbh, i’ve never watched the movie A Silent Voice before, so I had to do some Youtubing to find some clips - and I blame you for making me ugly cry at 2 am in the morning lmao. It’s so sweet and such a coming of age story in a way, so I tried to channel that into my writing >< I definitely enjoyed this one a lot!

anime: jujutsu kaisen

characters: inumaki toge

pronouns: she/her

trigger warning: bullying/physical assault mentioned, along with self depreciating and suicidal thoughts. read with caution. 

proof read: N/A

Being from a clan like the Inumaki clan, many from the Jujutsu world would just automatically assume that you’d inherate the powerful Cursed Speech Curse Ability from your family. However, there is always that few exceptions when it came to things like this; and this time, you were that one exception.

You were born deaf, and because of this, you were looked down upon by the elders of your clan for being a ‘waste of an heir’. Your father, a loving man, had always shield you from there vile words; and from example your older brother, a gifted user, became overprotective of you. He would willingly take a bullet for you, constantly showering you in love and affection, and even going so far as learning how to use sign language at a young age so he can communicate with you.

Because he just wants you to grow up in a loving and somewhat normal life. That’s all he wants for you. 

Hence why, instead of following the normal route of a jujutsu student, your parents decided to sign you up in a nearby elementary school with the hopes that you get to bond with normal children. So that’s how you found yourself dressed in a cute floral dress, your white frilly socks with simple Mary Janes, your white hair pulled back into a delicate braid; all excited with your backpack filled with things you picked up at the stationery store and a bento prepared by your mother.

Since it was his day off, Toge took up the responsibility of sending you off on your first day, making sure that the entire process will be smooth sailing for you. Walking down the street of your town, he lets you swing your hands between each other, smiling behind his black mask at how excited you were to start your first day of school. It warmed his heart that you get to experience normal things like this, and without knowing it, you motivated him to push himself harder to become a stronger shaman, to protect the world that brings you so much joy. 

Soon you both found your way into the school grounds and quietly, Toge brought you aside so that he can pull his mask down, revealing his tattooed mouth and tongue. But you just smile at your older brother, who smiles back before he reaches over to ruffle your hair between his fingers. Quietly he signed to you, mouthing the worlds he wanted to say silently instead of wording them out in the open; he was a Cursed Speech user, after all. The safest way for him to communicate for you is for him to use onigiri ingredients. or to word out the words silently whilst doing the signs with his hands. 

‘You ready for school, pipsqueak?’

“Uf huf!” You said happily, your speech clearly slurred and not so clear since you had never been corrected on how to say words properly - but with how you excitedly nod your head with a wide smile, Toge can pretty much interpret what you were saying. Smiling warmly at your excitement, he leans over to kiss you on the forehead on last time before pulling his mask back on. With that he got back up and, after taking your outstretched hand, you two joined the rest of the crowd once more.

After a lot of paperwork and awkward one sided conversations, since Toge went with the excuse that he had a sore throat, you soon found yourself being led to stand behind your new classmates, who were focused on saying goodbye to their parents. Toge squatted down before you and you can immediately tell he was smiling behind his mask, causing you to smile back as well. Quietly he leans forward to rub his masked nose with yours, something that you two always do when the other is about to leave.

With a giggle you happily rubbed your nose against his as well, and with another parting pat to your head, he got up and followed the other parents that were ushered out of the crowded hallway. Soon a few of the more confident students started to introduce themselves to one another, and one of those children came running towards you with a grin. “Good morning! My name is Taku, nice to meet you!” He greeted loudly as he bowed at you and the girls around you, who all gave him an uninterested glance before turning their attention away from him. 

But you did give him an excited smile before you started to sign back a greeting, trying to vocalise your name at the same time. This cause everyone in the hallway to pause and stare at you in confusion, since they had not expected for someone who looks so sweet and soft spoken to have spoken in such a loud and odd way. However before anyone can make a comment about it, the teacher finally arrived with a warm smile on his face, gesturing for the students to entire their new class.

This moment of excitement managed to distract the students and soon everyone flooded into the room, waiting for their seat arrangements to be settled by the teacher before they start their first real day as students. Of course, like any first day of school, you had to do the ice breaker activities to introduce your name and greeting the rest of the class. Everyone had to do it, regardless if they were ready to do it or not - and you were no exception.

You stood up excitedly before you started to say what sounds like your name, signing along the way to try and express yourself better. Once again, everyone was staring at you in confusion, having never heard someone speak like you before. Your teacher just smiles and nods, introducing you to the rest of the students simply. “Inumaki here is actually deaf, meaning she can’t hear you all. So you have to be more creative when you want to talk to her. However, just because she is different, doesn’t mean she is any different from you all. So I expect to treat her like everyone else.” 

The simple explanation caused the rest of the students to nod softly, giving you more curious looks since they’ve never been around someone like you before. But on the outside, you were pretty much the same like the rest of them; so it was easy to forget that you were any different from them in the beginning. 

It was actually really fun for you - for your entire life, you had always been around sorceress, feeling like an outcast in such a well gifted family. Even though you had a disadvantage, you had always been acutely aware of where curses were, being able to locate them quite accurately even without former training. But you were still a child, so you were given a chance to try out the life as a normal child. You were ecstatic, since you had always dreamed what it would be like to start school and live a normal life. 

But, as if the world wanted to spite you, things never tend to go your way.

You remember how things first started out for you - people were shocked at how loud and different you were, but made a real effort to try and talk to you to try and get to know you; since that was what their teachers told them to. However, after awhile, people started to talk behind your back; about how you made no real effort to try and join the conversation, even though the hearing aids you donned on seemed to help you understand them just a little better. At first you ignored the comments of just a few people, having been able to ignore all the backhanded comments that the elders have made for almost your entire life. 

However, the first ever boy who introduce himself to you, Taku, seemed to have deemed you to be the odd one out - and for some reason, had decided that you were going to be the subject of his new taunts and teases. At first it was small things like playful off handed comments about you that made your mood fall, but didn’t do much. You have been subjected to worse treatement from others. However, as the weeks go by, it was getting harder and harder to ignore. 

Toge had noticed that as the weeks go on, the enthusiasm that you once held for school started to dwindle. Every time he asks you about it though, you would just quickly wave him off, saying that you were just tired with how much work it takes to with people who weren’t necessarily used to using sign language and understanding you. Technically you weren’t lying, since you were mentally drained trying to communicate with so many different types of people. But at the same time, all the off-handed comments were getting to you. 

Your answer definitely has him concerned, since he was used to having his baby sister basically talking his ear off on a normal bases; but he didn’t push you too much. It was something he had learnt to do when it comes to you - that when you really need him, you’d come and tell him no matter what. And it was true; even if it was a small trivial matter, you always come whining to him for attention and a listening ear. So he doesn’t necessarily push you to tell him, but he did remind you that if you needed him, he would be there.

And you knew that, but the same time, somehow there were seeds of doubts planted in your mind. 

“Don’t you think you’re annoying people all the time?”

“God, you’re so noisy! Can’t you talk quieter?! No wonder people don’t like talking to you~”

“Can you stop trying so hard? You just sound weird.”

It hurt you, and with how busy he can get with his own school life and rarely get to see you, these words started to fill your head and make you feel like you aren’t worth all the effort that people put into trying to communicate with you. It made you start to become closed off and stop making the effort to talk to people, because in your eyes, you didn’t want to be a bigger bother then you already are for people.

Your sudden silence definitely had your parents getting concerned about you, since they were weren’t sure as to why you were suddenly so quiet and secluded from your family when you all used to be such a close family unit. Toge was the most concerned one out of everyone, so after he finally got home from his classes for the week, he had brought some some of the fruit tarts he knows you love from a nearby bakery.

Quietly he made his way to his baby sister’s room, knocking on the wooden frame of the shoji doors to let her know he was coming in. “Salmon?” He calls out curiously as he carefully pushes open the door to your room open, peeking his head in side. The sight of you curled up on your side on your bed, not even acknowledging that your brother had entered your room. Your lack of response does concern him; so he quietly set the box of tarts down on your bedside table before carefully setting down on the bed beside you. 

Quietly he reaches over to run his fingers through your soft hair, wordlessly giving you the comfort you didn’t know you were needing. Just a simple touch from someone who you have been trying to hide for so long definitely have your eyes watering. Wordlessly you turned to face your older brother, who just gave you an encouraging smile before he opens his arms for you. 

You launched yourself into his arms, and if he hadn’t been waiting for it to happen, he would have fallen back from the sheer force of the hug. Any normal person would have asked you hundreds of questions that will frankly make you feel worse, but Toge was just a pro at understanding you without you needing to say a word.

He might not know just what is it that got you so upset in the first place, and just how much seeing him in your room made you feel a little less lonely; but he wordlessly just wraps his arms around you, pressing soft kisses on the top of your head wordlessly as you soaked his shirt with your tears. It breaks his heart that you were going through the pains of having to live with something that you didn’t choose to have.

But if all you need was someone to lean on, he just wants wants you know that he’s here no matter what.

© roscgcld — all rights reserved to me, rose, the author and creator of these works. do not repost/translate/claim my work as yours on any platform

[queerlyraging]

I am affected.

“being aromantic doesn’t affect you”

I’m in elementary school. I’m an avid reader, always have been and always will be. My favorite books are the ones with lots of action, and fantasy, and different worlds full of different lives and different people. Whenever the characters fall in love I roll my eyes and turn the page. I don’t understand how they have time to fall in love when there’s a war going on.

I only like the historical and realistic fiction books without any romantic based plot. I love the Little House on the Prairie books, even if Laura does get married later. I care more about the lifestyle than anything, about learning how the prairie children live.

I finally get permission to read teenager books. They seem so mature and amazing and developed compared to the children books, but they have so much romance in them. What happened to preserving family bonds and forging strong friendships? I roll my eyes through slow kisses and huff at the silent pining for someone they can’t have. It seems so ridiculous.

My favorite pairs are shipped, but I never see how they could be in love. I never really have an OTP, but I treasure my BROTP’s and collect their friendships and sibling bonds quietly. I try and explain how I feel about the shipping to my friends, but they don’t seem to understand, so I give up and quietly listen to their talk of how much the characters love one another, defeated by the overpowering majority who scream about romantic love.

I don’t hate the ships, I just like the friendships better. I seem to be the only one who feels this way. I am isolated. 

“being aromantic doesn’t affect you”

I’m in elementary school. I really want to be friends with this boy. He is smart, he is funny, he plays sports, and we seem like we would be good friends. Most of all, he reminds me of my last best friend, before I had to move. But I am awkward, and easily influenced. My friends tell me I must like him. I don’t know how to deny it, so I agree and follow their advice.

I think it’s stupid, but maybe I do like him. Maybe that’s how all this works.

Our friendship is ruined. He doesn’t like me anymore, friend or otherwise.

“being aromantic doesn’t affect you”

I’m in middle school. Everyone around me talks about who they like, and why they like them. I think that I also like people - surely, liking someone means you really want to be friends, right? I ask. I’m laughed at. I choose a boy in my grade to like.

When I get older, I’ll like people, I decide. I’m just not old enough. For now, I’ll hide behind being unable to date until I’m older, and for now I’ll choose someone who checks all the boxes my friends seem to talk about. To me, it just sounds like what people want in a best friend, except they’re supposed to be cute.

I make a list of qualities, find a new boy every year in my classes. I choose someone I probably won’t see the next year, and am never very disappointed when I don’t have a class with them the next school year. I wonder if everyone does this.

The ‘crush’ of the year tells me he’s moving states after I tell him I like him. I’m relieved, instead of sad. All my friends comfort me, but I don’t really care. They find this odd, so I don’t talk too much about it. I hate feeling isolated.

“being aromantic doesn’t affect you”

I’m in high school. I’ve been a silent observer of the LGBTQ+ community since elementary school. For a long time, I wonder if I’m anything besides what society considers ‘normal’, if any of the identities apply to me. I wonder if how I feel is how everyone feels. No matter what I do, I feel different than everyone else about love, because I’m so indifferent to it.

I discover the asexual community first, and then I find the aromantic community. I’m surprised by how much I relate to it, but I’m also scared. This can’t be me, because then I wouldn’t be able to have the life I’ve always wanted.

Perfect family. Perfect husband. Perfect job. Perfect life.

I deny it. I tell myself I don’t actually relate, I just want to be different. I’m just caught up in a trend. I can’t aromantic, no matter how much I relate. I hate how I feel. I just want to be like everyone else. Why can’t I be like everyone else?

“being aromantic doesn’t affect you”

I’m in high school. All my friends are in relationships. I don’t really understand, but I try my best to be supportive. At the beginning of my sophomore year, my best friend tells me he likes me, and has liked me for awhile. I ask my big sister what I should do. Do I like him back? For the first time, I ask what romance feels like.

She tells me it’s like being best friends, but there’s just a little more. I wonder what that little more feels like.

We begin to date, and I’m uncomfortable. He’s my best friend. Nothing is different, except we hold hands, yet the concept of dating someone… it feels wrong.

I finally accept it. I’m aromantic, and that’s okay. We break up. We’re still best friends, and he still likes me. I am okay.

“being aromantic doesn’t affect you”

I’m in high school. I tell my friends that I’m aromantic. Each time I come out, it’s a new vocabulary lesson. It’s exhausting to find metaphors and explanations and definitions that they understand.

One of my friends told me she thinks it’s sad that I don’t feel romantic love. I’m too shocked to respond. She doesn’t even try to understand, and I’m hurt by her words. I am perfectly fine without romance - why can’t she see that?

I can’t tell one of my friends. I think he likes me and I don’t think he would understand, because he says things that feel wrong. I find out he’s a Trump supporter and quietly break off our friendship. I can never be too careful.

One of my friends says that I’ll find someone who makes me love. He thinks it’s just a joke, but I am hurt. None of my friends understand why I am mad. He means well, but it’s like he’s forgotten who I am.

I can’t tell my family, except for my big sister, but she’s far away right now. They wouldn’t understand, they would tell me I don’t know what I’m feeling. My little sister would try and remind me of every fake crush I had. My parents would tell me I haven’t found the right person yet.

"BEING AROMANTIC DOESN’T AFFECT YOU”

I’m in high school. I finally get to tell my big sister that I’m aromantic. I wanted to do it in person, and I’m not worried that she won’t accept me. After all, she’s LGBTQ+ too and the only ally I can have in my house, because I can’t trust anyone else not to shame me.

I tell her everything. She’s pokerfaced. Later that night, I hear her laughing through my bedroom walls. When I pass her door I hear what she is saying to her friend on call. She is making fun of me. 

She doesn’t think I can be aromantic, since I’m so young.

She thinks it’s an excuse, since I don’t want to date my best friend.

She says she felt the same way, and that I’ll find someone like her.

She’s laughing at my identity.

I’m heartbroken, betrayed, anguished. In my bedroom that night, I sob for an hour, spiraling, hating myself more and more. She was supposed to be my ally in the house, she was supposed to support me, but instead she laughed behind my back.

The next day, I can’t look her in the eye.

“BEING AROMANTIC DOESN’T AFFECT YOU”

I’m in high school. My best friend still likes me, and we’re still only best friends, because he knows that we can never be together. Sometimes it can be awkward, but mostly we avoid the topic. A month after we break up, he tells me we can’t be best friends anymore, because he needs to get over his feelings for me.

I go to my queer friend group and cry for ten minutes before my two hardest finals, because they’re the only ones who might understand. This is worse than when we broke up, because then it was mutual and now it is another rug swept from under my feet, another friend lost because of my identity.

He doesn’t understand why I am hurt, and I am too exhausted to put it into words. My friendships matter so much to me, but my friends don’t seem to always understand. 

I tell him to leave me alone. I need to process this by myself. He tells me that we can still be friends. I tell him to leave me alone. He finally understands how much I’m hurt, after I try to explain. I tell him to leave me alone. He tries to comfort me, and I ignore him. After all, he isn’t my best friend anymore, because he likes me and I can’t like him back, and this is just another friendship ruined.

I am affected.

I was in elementary school. I was a kid. I didn’t understand. I felt isolated and different because because nobody understood I didn’t have a crush. 

I was in middle school. I was a tween. I didn’t understand. I felt isolated and lost and confused because nobody seemed to feel the same way as I did.

I’m in high school. I’m a teenager. I don’t understand. I feel isolated and different and lost and confused and angry and hurt because nobody gives me representation and I’ve lost so many friendships because I finally have an identity I’m at peace with.

I’m going to be in college. I’m going to be an adult. I don’t think I will understand. I don’t know how I will feel because the future is uncertain and maybe one day nobody will need a vocabulary lesson every time I say I’m aromantic.

I hate the world for erasing who I am, for enforcing a narrative where I don’t exist. I hate that people tell me that since I can pass for straight, being aromantic doesn’t matter. I hate that people tell me they pity me because I can’t feel romantic love. I hate that I’m never represented. I hate that my potential representation only becomes discourse.

I hope for a future where romantic love is not the only narrative. I hope for a future where my affection with my friends is not seen as inherently romantic. I hope for a future where society acknowledges I exist and doesn’t ridicule my feelings and identity. I hope for a future where I can find canon representation and not have to guess. I hope for a future where I am accepted by those not exactly like me.

I hope I don’t hope for too much.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Boys and sticks - Chapter 21 🏞

Fandom: Hobbit (College AU)

Characters: @linasofia x Thorin, me x Ori, @laurfilijames x Fíli

Words: 1,6k

Warning: Nothing, it's the first part of the picnic and it's awkward™️

Previous chapters

“Open the message, you little coward!” Tova demanded and when I didn’t, she took the phone from my hands and read the message herself silently before banging my phone hard against my forehead which got a yelp out of me.

“He’s asking where you’ve gone and if you’re alright. Apparently, Thorin, that idiot, has called him this morning and Ori was afraid something had happened to you; you don’t deserve his kindness, I hope you know that,” she snarled.

I did feel a bit guilty upon hearing that – instead of being angry at me for just vanishing – Ori had been worried about me. “Did he send the address?” I asked, not daring to look at the text on the screen for fear of bursting into tears.

“Yes, of course, if the princess of broken hearts demands something, he complies, doesn’t he?”

“You make it sound like he’s at my beck and call, which is not the case; he’s just a very nice chap,” I tried to defend myself, but her face made it very clear that she did not believe me.

“Jia…there’s nothing inherently wrong with the people who are kind to you, you know?” she smiled, the anger slowly subsiding from her face, “What are you going to wear? And did you mean it when you said you were done with him?”

Her eyes were soft and open now.

“Oh, I can always try. Not as if it would change anything,” I groaned quietly.

“I am well afraid you might end up hurting him, badly. The thought came to me yesterday; what if I have been worried about us all the time when – really – they are the ones who might get hurt in the end?” Tova mused aloud.

“Naaaa, men don’t get hurt all that fast,” I waved her concerns away, but when she told me about the way Thorin had held her through the night, I could understand where her qualms came from. I had never considered that men could grow lonely, especially men who had that many friends and family members, people who were never really alone.

“So, you did bed him?” I asked out of courtesy more than curiosity, for I knew the answer to my question.

“Yes…and it was amazing,” Tova nodded slowly, that feline grin spreading on her face that I knew and loved so well.

“Jia? I was the first,” she admitted then with a small twitch of her hands as if she was trying to urge me to keep this a secret, which I would have, either way, “It was…meaningful.”

We got ready together and – feeling a bit guilty – I went the extra mile, wearing my most beautiful sundress despite it being autumn already and a knitted beanie that made me look cute, if Tova was to be believed.

“No broken hearts?” She outright asked this time and I shrugged, for mine was close to shattering if I was honest.

I nodded my head – weakly because my spine was, as was well known, a cooked noodle – and wondered how to find this Lo-person now. You really should get into the habit of asking for people’s numbers, I told myself, disgusted with my lacking people skills; I was a hypocrite, I had made Ori feel like he had failed on every account when – really – I had done no better than him, shutting down whenever I couldn’t deal with the reality of what I was facing rather than some made-up version of a perfect scenario.

A sharp rap at the door had me jumping so hard I thought I would burst out of my own skin and there she was, beautiful as the sunny day outside, in skin-tight dark jeans and a cashmere sweater the colour of ripe plums.

“Hey, when were you planning on leaving?” she asked casually as if it was understood that I was coming and that she was invited; clearly, she was not used to being told “no” a lot.

“Right about now, at some point, soon…” I stammered, looking at Tova who cocked her head.

“Yeah, I’m meeting Thorin in the parking lot in 5 minutes,” she nodded, pulling the protective gear over the tight shorts she was wearing and packing another pair of trousers into a backpack.

“Do we need to bring anything?” Lo asked and I stared at her blankly, I had not thought that far.

“We can take my car, I have packed some small supplies, just in case,” she went on and I caught the feverish gleam in her eyes; she was nervous, that boy did not know she was coming, and her usual breezy confidence felt like a very thin veil about to be torn to shreds by reality.

“I know who you are by the way,” she whispered as we went down to the locked part of a garage, passing the black SUV that I did not drive for fear of betraying my father’s identity. “My dad and yours do business with each other.”

“Hush,” I pleaded, my father and I were not on good terms, and I had enrolled here to spite him, sharing a room on campus with another girl rather than live in one of his fancy flats in town.

She led me to a flashy, flame-red sports car and shrugged, “I wear it as badge of honour,” she admitted, but I heard the “I put it up like a wall around me” shivering beneath her cocky words.

We drove to the closest petrol station and stocked up on beer and champagne, snacks, napkins, and other things as if it was our picnic and not theirs, having been bred to be good hostesses ever since we had been old enough to have tea parties with our stuffed toys and dolls.

“Are you an item, by the way? That boy and you?” I asked when we were back in the car and speeding towards a dark, looming forest. I had thought this would be a nice picnic in a meadow next to a small waterfall or something stupidly romantic like that, but it looked increasingly as if we were about to go on a Bear Grylls adventure.

In my bright yellow sundress, I could hardly see myself rock-climbing or go abseiling except if I really wanted to clearly advertise my availability in an unequivocal way to Ori.

“Fí? No…” She chuckled, but there was no amusement in her voice now. “We have fun.”

“So, no feelings?” I knew I sounded envious, because feelings were a hassle and mine hung like an ugly, dead bird around my neck pulling me down inexorably.

Flipping back her hair, she put on a song and rolled down the windows as we pulled into an uneven parking space filled with rickety, old vehicles and Tova’s motorbike. “Oh come on,” I exclaimed as she threw open the door and laughed.

Heartattack by Demi Lovato was a brazen choice to say the least, but there was nobody else here, so I gave in to the beat and sang along while shaking my head and helping her get the supplies out of her car.

“Oh, Jia is here,” I heard Tova say just on the other side of a bush and my heart dropped.

“Jia has a car?” Thorin asked, appearing a second later with Tova in tow – all in black leather – and grinning widely.

“Yes, but that is not hers,” Tova replied and froze. “Oh, Jia, you didn’t,” she sighed when she saw Lo.

“We’ve brought some…things,” Lo explained and motioned at the heaps of unnecessary things at our feet.

“Sure…” Thorin’s eyes were huge with dread now as he called Dwalin to come out behind the bush as well.

“Oh hey…OH…Okay…” Dwalin – as well – looked as if someone had kicked him in the nuts, but he grabbed as much as he could and carried it around the hedge where – how was I supposed to know – a small bench and an even smaller grill stood.

An elderly – at least compared to me – gentleman came towards us and greeted us gently.

“Hello, my name is Jia, I’m a friend of Tova’s and…this is Lo, she’s under my tutelage.” For what, I do not know yet, but I didn’t say that out loud. Heads whipped around and I got to see Fíli’s utter shock and Ori’s hurt expression.

“Ah yes, yes, I am Balin. So…come, come…I see you’ve brought your own things. It’s not much really, but we would have provided for you.” He sounded much less angry and resentful than the others looked as he waved at their meagre set-up, but it was pretty clear that we had insulted them somehow.

“Well, as Tova’s friend, I guess you know Thorin, yes?” Balin asked gently then, and I nodded, mumbling that we had met which was absurd. I had drunk tea only this morning with this man – who had not been wearing his shirt – and I knew that he was good in bed, so why did I pretend that all we had ever done was pass each other in the hallway?

“Fíli, he’s a freshman, I don’t expect ladies like you would have much to do with him and Kíli, our baby chick.”

Did that make the others cocks? Oh, Jia, get your shit together, I admonished myself, blushing a dark red.

“Yes, hello,” I stammered, praying he would not try to introduce the man I had woken up next to.

“I was under the impression that you know Ori as well?” I suddenly felt less guilty about having long, detailed discussions with Tova about Thorin’s sexual prowess as it seemed they were just as bad when it came to gossiping as we were.

“He’s in my English Lit class,” I nodded and then Tova started laughing like a maniac.

[parvuls]

* adapted from @librajiminn on twitter

a fun game to celebrate 2020 ending! the rules are simple: recommend your favorite omgcp fics so everyone can enjoy them, while trying to fill in enough slots to get a bingo! i ordered my recs starting from top left; my filled bingo card is at the end ✨

most recent fic you bookmarked don't tell your mother by seeingrightly [rating: unrated, probably t | words: 1k] essentially: jack is in madison, and things aren’t easy but at least they’re together. i have an unhealthy obsession with madison/4th of july fics, and every new one i discover brings me joy. i liked this one in particular because of the lovely, clean flow of the writing, and for its attention to the problematic environment: the (assumed) homophobic nature of georgia, and bitty's tension when he’s home as a result.

a fic that made you cry Your heart hurts, mine does too by the_p_in_raspberry (@thepinraspberry) [rating: t | words: 19k] essentially: this fic fills the prompt ‘what if bitty hadn’t come out to shitty?’ the fic deals with exactly the subject material implied, and is inherently painful. this what if version of bitty’s journey with his sexuality was so, so raw, but it was the good kind of pain. i’ll say that while this fic is jack/bitty at its core, i really think its real strength is the team dynamics. they are so there for each other, and it was a beautiful read.

a fic you’ve re-read multiple times Prove To Me You Got Some Coordination by amalnahurriyeh [rating: explicit | words: 17k; the series is 24.5k] “In which Jack Zimmermann has a favorite stripper, some very strong feelings about labour relations, and a good heart.“ when i prepared myself for reading a stripper au, this is not what i expected. this fic is one of my all-time favorites. i adored the politics angle, jack's awkward Helpless Good Guy gestures, and bitty being a complete badass. their soft flirting, the realistic (but positive!) take on sex work, and the careful handling of a potential unequal power dynamic. i don’t think i can count on one hand the amount of times i read this fic.

a fic from your to-read list Never Will You Ever by thefiveboxingwizards (@thefiveboxingwizards) [rating: explicit | words: ~25k (WIP)] essentially: during fall semester of Y2 the team plays never have i ever, which results in jack coming out to bitty. bitty decides to move on, just as jack starts to realize his own feelings. this is the first time i’m reccing a fic i haven’t actually read. i have a strict rule against reading wips for my own mental health (although i have great appreciation for all writers who decide to post them; kudos to you). the premise of this fic sounds so alluring, however, that i couldn’t help but marking it for later and then checking if it’s updated every few days. can’t wait to read it when it’s finished!

FREE SLOT and now what words do I have? by MyCupOfTea (@marchingatmidnight) [rating: m | words: 10k] essentially: jack and bitty love each other. bitty moves to france. jack and bitty continue to love each other, even when it’s hard. this fic could’ve fit several of my slots, but eventually i decided to just rec it on its own. it’s one of my absolute favorites in this fandom. i love it for the writing, the pacing, the decision to tackle a real obstacle in a relationship without unnecessary dramatization. i love the softness the pining trope is painted with; how the distance is awful but they deal with it so well, so healthily. i love when angst is used to build and show the strengths of a relationship, not just to hurt.

a pwp With New Eyes by luckie_dee (@luckiedee) [rating: m | words: 3.5k] essentially: mirror sex with a flavor of intercrural. this fic is set during bitty’s first visit to providence, which shifts the entire tone of the fic accordingly. everything is so tentative and new, and i just really liked how gentle jack and bitty are with each other, how they savor new things. the setting and bitty's thoughts and the whole thing was perfect, and so in character.

a fic that is pure fluff Over Heels by anonymous [rating: gen | words: 2.5k] essentially: jack and bitty and marriage. this is such a soft portrayal that it made my chest ache. it isn’t Y4-compliant, but it is so goddamn cute it doesn’t matter. i especially loved the communication between them, the choice of rings (plus the subtle mentions of jack stimming), and this sort of low key, understated proposal. the last scene with jack kissing the ring clinched it for me: i could picture it so clearly my heart flipped.

a fic with your favorite trope How to Blow a Fuck Ton of Meal Points in 1.5 Semesters. by YourPalYourBuddy (@ivecarvedawoodenheart) [rating: t | words: 5k] essentially: jack finds himself with more meal points than he could ever need, and proceeds to spend them on his team (read: bitty) - which leads to some realizations. the trope this fits is ‘year 2 canon-divergence getting together’, and it’s one trope i will never tire of. i absolutely loved the set up of this because it's so college. i loved jack's characterization, and also their conversations, how well bitty's feelings are translated through jack's eyes even when jack's not completely aware of them, and the ending.

a fic with a trope you don’t usually read Tipping the Scales by akaparalian (@floralegia) [rating: t | words : 7.5k] “Prince Eric, training for a tournament to prove his worth as a knight, goes for a ride in the woods. He accidentally finds a dragon, who accidentally became a dragon because he pissed off the wrong witch.” i’m not normally a fan of fantasy or royalty AUs, but something drew me to this fic anyway. i was not disappointed. i laughed out loud several times during this fic. i adored the translations of their personalities into a knight and a dragon (for example, jack's reaction to training - dying, dead, oh my god).

a drabble that made you want more Picture Us Together by RabbitRunnah (@doggernaut) [rating: t | words: 800] essentially: bitty sets a picture of his boyfriend as his lock screen during the madison visit, and jack finds out. it seems only fitting that i put more than one rec taking place during 4th of july on this list. the prompt was so simple, but the execution was so lovely i wished it would go on and on. things between them at this time were so new and fragile and sweet that i just never want it to end.

a fic with domestic fluff I'll settle in and dream by Stultiloquentia [rating: t | words: 9k] essentially: a future fic with emphasis on jack’s and bitty’s adult life. the realistic domesticity in this killed me dead. it is so, so lovely and soft. i enjoyed every detail, from the dog to the scenery descriptions to jack's hockey arc. every setting was so easy to imagine, and i really enjoyed the journey this fic takes the reader on.