#It's a shitty feeling but the only way out of it is true embrace your need to be loved and desire for human connection or it won't end well

[shiraishi--kanade]

"It's so embarrassing to admit I only create art for validation" did paleolithic humans not paint for other humans to see. Does a child making their first drawing to show their parents makes it any less valuable. Do gardens arranged for the visitors' eyes make the roses any less beautiful. Do love poems written for one person alone to hear make your heart ache less. You're fine

[themotherofhorses]

simon riley x fem!reader

Imagine holding Simon when he cries. 

Simon Riley is an incredibly strong man, an absolute force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. Since joining the SAS in 2001, he has created a name for himself. A military legend—seemingly more ghost-like than flesh and blood. But that is the farthest from the truth, isn’t it? Cause, at the end of the day, he is still human. You’re his girl, the love of his life. His true love—his only love.

You are a source of comfort he somehow found in this shitty, cold world. The home he never had the privilege of experiencing; your arms have provided him with everything he was denied during boyhood.  

So imagine your Simon arriving home one evening—dead silent—merely shuffling his way to where you’re seated comfortably on the living room couch. His duffle bag drops near his leather recliner before the balaclava is tossed to the side. On his face is a certain heaviness, a sadness twisted in his handsome features; his blue eyes are not as bright as they usually are.

You swallow. Did something happen during the mission? 

“What is wrong, baby?” You coo, stretching your arms out wide to welcome him in. 

Without another thought, Simon tucks himself into your embrace, with his head resting gently on your chest. Against your breast, he can hear your heartbeat thundering away in your chest, moving in a rhythm that matches his. He reckons he is the luckiest bastard in the world, to find a soulmate who compliments him in every aspect of life. 

He lets out a small sigh, squeezing his eyes shut, feeling his throat closing up as tears begin to well up. His bottom lip trembles before he bites down on it. 

“Simon,” you murmur, pressing a gentle kiss on his forehead. “What happened, my love?” 

Another tear, followed by three more. A tiny, shaky exhale. Simon remains utterly still for a moment, not saying anything, until…“It’s my father’s birthday today.” His voice is quiet, breathless, unbelievably thick with sheer sadness. 

Your face falls at that. “Oh, Simon.” A sad smile pulls at your lips while you hug him closer, peppering more kisses up and down his hairline, pausing to brush back soft, blonde strands. You say nothing more as he continues to weep in your arms, entire body racking with choked-up sobs and uneven breathing. 

“I loved him,” Simon rasps out, pulling his face up from your neck. Both his cheeks and nose are a cherry-red, with baby-blue eyes bloodshot and puffy, lined with fresh tears. For a moment, he wasn’t the Simon Riley you fell in love with, but the Simon Riley who was five-years-old—all scrawny, little legged and freshly bruised, hiding behind the bookcase in his parents’ bedroom. 

“Loved him so bloody much.” 

You don’t know what to say. What can you even say? Nothing can heal those wounds, cut so deep in his heart and soul that any slight movement reopens them. “I know you did.” You kiss his nose, minding the mess of tears and snot. 

His fists slowly tighten, knuckles whitening as all the memories of his father begin to flood through him; they all carry an agonizing sensation, the kind that is too fuckin' painful to discuss aloud, yet too damn gut-wrenching to keep bottled up inside.

“Do ya…” he hiccups, clearing his throat. “Do ya think…in another life…?” 

In another life. You think for a moment, carding your fingers softly through his hair. “Maybe, my love…” 

Simon nods. “Maybe,” he croaks out, keeping his arms tight around you. There, on the couch, you continue to hold him, letting his torrent of tears soak your shirt; time and time again, your fingers run through his hair in some silent attempt to ease the little boy wailing inside. 

“It’s okay, baby.”

You kiss his temple.

“You’re alright. Let it out, baby.” 

He’ll be alright tomorrow. You know it. In the morning, he’ll be barefoot and content in the kitchen, baking his mother’s special recipe of blueberry and pineapple pancakes—a cup of milk, one egg, blueberries, pineapple, and, of course, the batter—all while waiting for your arms to circle around his chest. 

But for right now, he is five years old, finally being embraced in arms so warm and loving and protective—so unbelievably perfect. The feeling incites more tears.

"Thank you, baby," he mumbles, gently kissing your collarbone; it's a kiss so rich with love, appreciation, and adoration that it stirs up butterflies in your tummy. "For everything."

For everything. Oh, you silly boy. "Simon." You smile down at him, gently caressing his cheek. "For you, my love? I'd do anything."

note: a little drabble for my "let simon riley cry 2024" campaign. thanks!

[comicaurora]

I'm sorry that the terfs made their way onto your blog but it does feel good to see you support trans people. Thank you for that

Always.

I think, charitably, that the discourse going down on that post is an extrapolation and over-focus on one element of the point I was making: that for me, determining with certainty that I was cis was a rather fraught process. I was presented with many alternatives, but underlying their imposition on me was the oddly regressive idea that the things I liked, the principles I valued, the parts of myself I was proud of were not permitted of women. My whole life I got smacked with the background radiation that I couldn't like being strong because women aren't allowed to be stronger than men. I couldn't like being loud and boistrous because women aren't allowed to take up space. I couldn't be a math geek because women aren't smart. It was all deeply regressive misogyny from day one, but I started getting hit with it slathered in a fresh coat of paint - all those assumptions still held to be true, but now there was the out that I could do all those things if I just wasn't a woman.

Concluding that the underlying bioessentialist premise was wrong was very important. Absolutely none of those statements were true, and were only ever maintained by cultural saturation, goalpost-readjustment when they were actively disproven, and the occasional bout of lying with statistics to pretend they weren't just Shit All The Way Down. The core premise that certain things were only permitted of or possible for men was bullshit, and I didn't need to surrender the gender I liked best in order to play in the spaces I wanted to. I could simply exist the way I was already existing. I didn't need anything else.

The misinterpretation is the assumption that this being true of me means this is everybody's relationship with gender. I turned out to be cis, so for me, feeling that holding onto my assigned gender wasn't allowed was distressing - just another invocation of the same bioessentialist bullshit I'd been dealing with since the preschool playground. This is because misgendering is fundamentally denying that a person has the right to express themself the way they want. When aimed at me, it says I'm not performing traditional femininity well enough to deserve my pronouns. The same disrespect is the root of misgendering when aimed at trans people. "Perform your gender to my satisfaction or I will confiscate it."

The problem is, bioessentialism is 100% ingrained into the terf playbook, which is why, for instance, all their shitty talking points about trans athletes eventually boil down to "no woman can ever defeat a man in any contest because we are simply naturally weak and stupid and there is nothing we can do about it" and quite frankly nothing disgusts me more than the defeatist acceptance of the very lie that feminism is dedicated to overcoming. Instead of accepting that the paradigm of bioessentialism is a false dichotomy right from the jump, they embrace and weaponize it against the people whose existence proves the dichotomy is a lie. If gender essentialism is fundamentally false, then it is nobody's fucking business what anybody does with their gender. If the lines don't exist, nobody needs to enforce them. And yet there the terfs go, hunting down people whose lives are none of their business and trying to argue that they represent some great and terrible evil, some downfall of society made flesh, something that makes it totally correct and normal for them to spend so much time thinking about strangers' genitalia. They want this to be a noble crusade so badly they won't even examine what flag they're flying.

I love and support the trans people in my life and will always, always stand on the side of your right to exist, but alongside that, terf rhetoric especially disgusts and infuriates me because it is, at its heart, utter cowardice. The world told them they were weak and stupid and inferior and they fucking believed it. And now they think Fighting The Good Fight For Women means turning around and using the same paradigmatic weapon that hurt them to hurt the people whose existence outside the binary proves the weapon is a lie. They're the same shithead schoolyard bullies who made me believe my entire existence was foundationally wrong for years of my life and I will never, ever side with them or the shitty, cowardly rhetoric that contributed to the loneliest years of my life.

Figure out who you are and do it on purpose. Find the real source of the misery in your life and try fighting that instead of the other crabs in the bucket. Trans rights.

[xenteaart]

you are not difficult

pairing: chan x reader (i wrote it with idol!chan or producer!chan in mind, but it can fit any au, really) word count: no idea but it's short genre/warnings: er, angst, hurt/comfort, implied suffering w depression, implied history of SH. also implied shitty ex. so PLS keep that in mind before you read. also, it's all good in the end. author's note: it's a self comfort thing y'all but i hope you like it too.

it was yet another night where everything felt too much and you kinda hated yourself for it. bad day, maybe some hormonal imbalance due to a certain time in your cycle, history of mental illness — it's hard to put a finger on the exact cause. you're sick of trying, anyways.

chris was, of course, right there for you, and as you were falling apart in his arms, your entire soul was aching so bad that it made you want to crawl out of your own skin. it's usually like that, everywhere in your body like some sort of extreme inflammation, except physically you're perfectly fine.

"'m sorry…" you blurt out somewhere between your sobs and cries, still unable to hold eye contact with him.

"baby, you have nothing to be sorry for," chan shakes his head and keeps rubbing circles into your back, just between the shoulder blades where the ache feels the most excruciating.

"kiss me?" you squeak. almost pathetic, honestly, but it's always been your way of checking, whether he still wants you. whether he still loves you and desires you, even at your lowest, even with your mascara all smudged over your cheeks, eyes puffy and red, lips slightly irritated and swollen. even when there's a gaping black hole where the heart is supposed to be.

chris doesn't even question it, really. he simply leans in and gives you a long sweet kiss full of both a partner's tenderness and a lover's lust, so, so willing to do whatever it takes to calm the thunderstorm inside your mind and ease your struggle.

the kiss doesn't really satisfy you, the feeling is still there.

"sorry," you whisper again as you breathe out into chan's lips but the intimate contact doesn't last long. chris frowns and makes some distance between you two to look into your eyes.

"why? baby, why do you keep apologizing?" he sounds gentle but still slightly frustrated.

"i dunno? cos 'm difficult? for bein' difficult?"

there's a silence as he blinks a few times, processing and putting two and two together.

"just because it was difficult for them to love you and take care of you, doesn’t make you difficult. you are not difficult. like, at all," he puts on his serious tone, the one he uses for you when you can't see the obvious and he has to remind you.

you don't really know what to say to that, so you keep playing with the tissue paper in your hands, ripping it apart piece by piece just to keep yourself busy and focused on something other than the burning ache in your chest.

"dealing with mental health isn't easy, that one is true, baby, but it's so easy to love you. you are easy to love. even now, looking so small and in pain but it's still you, and my duty as your boyfriend is to take care of you when you can't. and, hell, you're one of the most capable people i know, so please just let me hold your hand through it once in a while, yeah?" chan speaks slowly and quietly, as if to make every single word sink in, tenderly forcing it into your stupid lovely brain that refuses to cooperate sometimes.

chris feels safe. he feels like lighting up a cookie scented candle after a long day at work. he's the feeling of the ocean timidly licking at your feet and burying them deeper into warm wet sand. chris is the first sip of coffee in the morning and the cold side of the pillow at night. he's everything worth living and trying for.

"thank you," is the only thing you manage to say, but in the way you lean back into his embrace he's able to read a lot more.

"do you want a nice mug o' hot chocolate and some fairy bread, baby?"

this question makes you hiccup and sob once again. you nod and nuzzle closer into the crook of his neck.

[angellesword]

Love Is Not Black and White, It's Purple (Like Your Eyes) | JJK (oneshot)

Summary: You and Jungkook are not soulmates. The fact that you have been married for ten years but still see in black and white proves that.

It is never an issue for you two until…

"Jungkook, my eyes… they're purple."

Jungkook's heart stops.

You can see colors now. It only means one thing:

You have met your real soulmate, and it's not Jungkook.

Genre & Content Warning: soulmate au, housemate au, mention of murder, past child abuse, domestic violence, fluff, crack treated seriously, attempt at humor, marriage au, established relationship, kissing, blind!jimin, fashion designer!taehyung, alcohol, cursing, HAPPY ENDING. (tags are just for formalities, but tbh this fic isn't heavy at all)

Pairing: Detective!Jungkook x Fashion Designer! Female Reader

Word Count: 7.5k

****

Out of all the suicide methods in history, Jungkook thinks that if he were to try one, it would still not be as effective as listening to you talk.

"Jungkook, my eyes...they're purple."

Really. You don't need a plastic bag, a rope, or a pillow to suffocate Jungkook. With your harsh words, Jungkook could feel the air leaving his lungs.

He can't breathe. The terrible realization asphyxiates him: you--his best friend--his wife, can now see colors. For a moment, Jungkook doesn't know what to make out of the fact that he's now alone in this monochromatic world—a place where people see in black and white until they look into their soulmates' eyes.

Jungkook has looked and drowned in your calamitous eyes before, but he never saw hues.

"Jungkook...?" 

Distantly, Jungkook hears you utter his name, but all he can grasp is you will abandon him. Jungkook is rarely wrong. He's a detective, after all. One word, and he can deduce the situation, making this whole ordeal more painful.

"That's..." Jungkook intends to hide his hurt, but he feels his voice getting choked up. He has no choice but to pause.

However, you are thrilled to hear what he has to say, so Jungkook forces himself to continue.

"...great. You, that's great. So great!" Perhaps repeating the same words can convince him that his statement is true. It's not. Jungkook's heart breaks when you beam at him.

Calm down. Jungkook tells himself. But he can't. Everything hurts. His heart, his soul, his words.

"So, tell me. Where's the divorce paper? Should I sign now?" Jungkook's words hurt like a knife. They cut your heart into pieces. 

"What the fuck are you talking about." Your face falls. "Shitty Jungkook, are you kidding me right now!? I'm not leaving you for someone I just met!"

Now, something about your reaction takes Jungkook's breath away. Maybe it's the anger that quickly turns into panic as you take in Jungkook's words. Or perhaps it's the apparent trembling of your lips as you desperately speak of your promise of forever. Either way, your fear-inducing expression somehow reassures Jungkook.

You and him are not over. Not yet, at least. 

"I'm just kidding~." Jungkook chuckles and clicks his tongue, "Of course, you're not leaving me. I'm the only one who can tolerate you, ya know?"

The joke doesn't lighten your expression at all.

"Jungkook, I'm not leaving you," you repeat. The assurance is softer this time, and despite the lack of color in your eyes, the detective can see determination in them.

Jungkook puffs out air. His heart aching a little less.

"I know, darling." Jungkook stops his jokes. He engulfs you in a warm embrace. "I'm sorry."

"Don't say that ever again." You wrap your arms around Jungkook's waist. "You're my best friend. I love you, alright?"

****

10 Years Ago; 2013

Unlike others, your relationship with Jungkook is reversed.

"Let's get married."

"The fuck?" You choke on your water the second Jungkook opens his mouth. "Are you high again, bastard!?"

You punch Jungkook mildly. The latter moves away, exaggeratedly cradling his jaw. "Ow! Why are you always so violent? Can't you hear me out first? I'm being serious here!"

"Serious?" You laugh incredulously. "You just asked me to get married!"

"Exactly!" Jungkook ignores the painful thug in his heart. "It's for our benefit. Didn't you say you want to live in PM Village?"

Apartments in PM Village are too damn expensive. You and Jungkook recently finished college; your individual income is not enough to cover the monthly amortization of a house, but it's different if your incomes are combined.

"You're crazy. We can't marry because of a fucking house, Jungkook!" You are still not convinced.

"Why not?" But Jungkook intends to change your mind. "We're both single, and divorce won't be difficult in the future. We can just tell the court we've found our real soulmates. Besides,"

The newbie detective drags his words, knowing that he'll be able to convince you in the end, anyway. "You're gonna be rich soon. You don't have any living family members anymore. Do you really wanna give away all your money to the government when you die?"

"Why? Is giving my money to you any better!?"

"I can at least maintain your wine cellar," Jungkook shrugs. "And just think about the tax benefits! Don’t you hate Hoseok-hyung for siphoning your money?”

You open your mouth to speak, but damn. Jungkook’s last statement has convinced you already. Nose flaring, you say, "Fine!"

It's like music to Jungkook's ears. "I need your full confirmation."

Jungkook really wants you to say it. You fold your arms across your chest, "Fine, Bastard! I agree with your absurd proposition. Let's get fucking married."

At the age of twenty-two, you and Jungkook tied the knot. Ten years later, most of Jungkook's predictions have come true: you two have settled in PM Village—a warm home with a wine cellar awaits you after a tiring day. You have also become so rich that you often have issues with Jung Hoseok, your country's tax agency commissioner. Thank fuck there are good lawyers out there to clear your tax cases. 

You clearly have everything life can offer. If you want, you can divorce Jungkook now, but ten years later, you are still very much committed to your best friend.

*****

Present; 2023

You insist on telling Jungkook who your soulmate is. Admittedly, you can tell that Jungkook finds the whole storytelling unnecessary. You are married, but it's not as if you two are in love with each other or something. Nope. Jungkook only sees you as an annoying woman with whom he cohabitates.

"So, has Technology asked you on a date yet?" Jungkook asks without looking at you. He's busy filing his nails, acting as if shaping his nails into perfect ovals is more important than conversing with you.

"First of all, his name is Taehyung. Not Technology, you asshole. And no, he hasn't asked me out." You exhale. "I mean, not yet. It's not a big deal, honestly. We just met yesterday." 

Translation: give my soulmate some time.

"Right." Jungkook mocks and yawns, finally glancing at you. "You know, if I meet my soulmate, I’ll immediately ask them out. I can’t waste time.”

"Oh, shut up." You roll your eyes. "We both know you just can't wait to sleep with them."

"He-He. You caught me~." Jungkook half-smiles before returning to the previous topic very smoothly, "So you're saying that if Techno—Taehyung asks you on a date, you'll say yes?"

"Will you mind if I do?" You sound nervous.

The sole purpose of this conversation is for you to test the waters with Jungkook. You both went on dates in the past after ensuring that the other was comfortable with the set-up. You are married, after all. It won't bode well with the both of you if cheating rumors erupt, especially in your respective workplaces.

Admittedly, it has been long since you two last went on dates. You were both busy with your jobs. Besides, isn't it exhausting getting to know strangers? Jungkook doesn't want to waste his breath on nosy people asking why he chose to be a detective, and you would rather ditch your date than deal with them bargaining for discounts once they find out you’re a prominent fashion designer.

Going out with strangers has become a nightmare instead of a fun way to meet your real soulmate. Because of this, you and Jungkook decided to just take each other out whenever you wanted. It's not exactly a romantic date. Sure, there's darling as a pet name, kisses under the moonlight, and wrestling who'll pay. But that's about it. You don't dare to do more.

Your partnership is of greater importance than sex and in-the-moment confessions. You don't want to regret it comes morning.

"Why would I mind?" Jungkook finally answers, feigning happiness. "I'll personally thank your soulmate for taking you out, honestly. I'm tired of you forcing me to take you out on dates. It's about time I meet new people, too."

"Right." You swallow your disappointment and the faint ache in your chest. "Who wants to go out with a shitty bastard like you, anyway? Go meet others! It's not like I care!"

Another fake smile blooms on Jungkook's face.

"Whatever you say."

*****

Kim Taehyung is the name of your soulmate, and the man Jungwon has been investigating for the past three days.

"Jungkook sunbaenim, here's all the information I can find about Kim Taehyung." Jungwon stifles a yawn as he approaches his mentor's table. He almost winces upon seeing Jungkook's monitor.

The older detective has many tabs on his computer, all related to Kim Taehyung.

"You're still investigating him?" Jungwon can't mask his surprise. "Jungkook sunbaenim, just what did Kim Taehyung do!?"

"He's a thief, Jungwon-ah." Jungkook accepts the files from his mentee without sparing him a glance

Jungwon dramatically gasps, his sleepiness fading away because of the scandalous information.

"Really? What did he steal?"

"A precious little thing." Jungkook is viewing Kim Taehyung's baby photos. No one knows how he found them. "Look, he's not that cute, right?"

Jungwon doesn't answer, lost in thought. What could Kim Taehyung have stolen? His Jungkook sunbaenim said a precious little thing. Could it be a diamond ring? Or...

"Tanzanite?" Jungwon shrieks. "Did he steal tanzanite, Jungkook sunbaenim!?"

"Huh?" Jungkook turns to his mentee with a furrowed brow. He suddenly remembers what he said to Jungwon, and being a good actor whose words consist of 10% truth and 90% lies, Jungkook can save himself by saying, "Yeah. He stole tanzanite —authorities said it was very expensive. Come, Jungwon-ah. Let's catch this thief."

****

You aren't lying when you say you won't divorce Jungkook because you 'met' your soulmate. No, your partnership is beyond colors. However, it also doesn't mean you’ll relinquish your connection with your soulmate.

The deal is this: You and Jungkook will stay together until you know your soulmates better. After that, you two can decide what to do next. In short, a simple meeting doesn't guarantee you would want to spend your entire life with your soulmates. You both have heard many stories before that not even real soulmates find romantic love with each other—some remain platonic soulmates, while others go as far as killing each other.

You and Taehyung's case seems to fall to the normal expectation of society: meet as strangers, get to know each other until you become friends, then fall in love and get married.

Unlike Jungkook pulling you in a reverse direction, Taehyung intends to drive you on the right path.

"Jungkook sunbaenim, aren't we breaking the protocol?" Jungwon covers his face with a newspaper, whispering softly in case the suspect hears him. They are currently inside a small coffee shop near Aurora Fashion Lane. Based on Jungwon's investigation, Kim Taehyung works as a designer for the company in the same building as this coffee shop. In fact, Taehyung is slowly becoming a regular customer here.

"Shouldn't we call for backup?" 

Jungkook ignores the younger detective. He squints his eyes hard, focusing on the table near the counter. Jungwon discreetly looks in the direction Jungkook has his eyes on. A woman with a similar haircut as yours is sitting there.

"Jungkook sunbaenim, isn't that your wife—"

"Ssshh, Jungwon-ah. Shut up for a moment. I can't hear them." Jungkook regrets not choosing a table near you and your date. Damn it. You probably won't realize he's here—not when your attention is focused on stupid Technology!

"Stay here. I'll be back." The older detective stands up abruptly. Right. If he pretends to look at the menu before ordering something, he can hear whatever you and Taehyung are talking about:

"Exactly. They should've added another layer of lace. It pairs well with jacquard." Jungkook hears you say.

What the heck are they talking about? The detective muses.

"Ah, unfortunately, the customer hates laces. Apparently, her father made her wear laces that itch." Taehyung responds.

"Poor Elise. I understand why she prefers satin dresses."

Are they talking about work? Jungkook thinks to himself again. He only snaps back to reality when the cashier smiles, asking if he's ready to order.

Jungkook orders drinks for him and Jungwon before moving closer to the soulmates' table. You and Taehyung have stopped talking, though. Confused, Jungkook tilts his head to check what's happening, but someone seizes his wrist.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Jungkook hears a classic greeting, yet he still freezes. Only one person gets angry seeing him.

"Oh, hi, you~. I didn't see you there." The detective beams while prying his hand away from your iron-like grip. "What a coincidence!"

"Coincidence, my ass!" You grit your teeth, "Tell me the truth. Why are you here?"

Jungkook tongues the inside of his cheek, thinking of a way to translate, 'You were smiling through your phone yesterday while texting your stupid soulmate. I didn't want to invade your privacy, so I hacked his messages instead,' into something that won't ignite your anger.

In the end, Jungkook manages to simply say, "Why? Can't a detective have his coffee?"

"Jungkook." you utter sternly, "This coffee shop is an hour and a half from your workplace. You also don't drink coffee."

As if on cue, the barista says Jungkook's drinks are ready. The detective picks up his drink and sips it. "What was that? I can't hear you over my delicious caramel macchiato with whipped cream and seven pumps of caramel sauce, topped with small marshmallows, chocolate chips, and sprinkles!"

"For fuck's sake!" You let out a torrent of abuse, your face morphing into disgust. Seeing color intensifies your emotions. The colorful toppings in Jungkook's drink make you want to vomit. "Get your ass out of here, you tasteless bastard!"

Jungkook doesn't budge. He shoots you an innocent look, "Why are you shooing me away? Am I disturbing you and your date? Where is he, by the way?"

Taehyung went to the comfort room, but this was not the point. You hiss, "I'm not on a date. Taehyung and I are discussing work over coffee. How the heck did you even know we're here?"

Another question Jungkook doesn't have a ready answer. Fortunately for him, Taehyung is back. Your furious expression melts at once. Your fake personality makes Jungkook gag.

"Hey, should we head back?" Taehyung's voice is deep. This is the first thing Jungkook notices.

"Yeah, let's go." You smile at your soulmate.

Another thing Jungkook notices is how handsy Taehyung is. He touches the small of your back, leading you to the exit. Jungkook's expression darkens, and Jungwon, watching the whole exchange like a hawk, suddenly decides to act.

"Stop, you thief! Leave my mentor's wife alone!" Jungwon has the handcuffs ready. He's rushing in Taehyung's direction. Jungkook's eyes widen, only relying on his fast reflexes to stop his mentee.

He trips Jungwon, causing the younger detective to fall to the ground.

"Jungkook, you bastard--!!"

All hell breaks loose after that scream coming out of you.

****

'Disaster' is the only word to describe Jungkook's attempt to stalk his wife. He didn't plan for things to escalate to the level where he had to trip Jungwon to stop him from arresting an innocent citizen like Taehyung. You got so mad that the older detective had to apologize, making an excuse that they were detectives on a mission gone wrong. Jungkook remembers smiling apologetically at Taehyung, telling him to cut Jungwon some slack because he is a newbie detective.

You knew everything leaving Jungkook's mouth was bullshit, yet you played along with Jungkook's excuse. You clearly don’t want the issue to escalate further. Thankfully, Taehyung is an understanding man, telling Jungwon to be careful next time. You aren't as forgiving as your soulmate, though. You called Jungkook over the phone, yelling you'd kill him if he went home tonight.

Jungkook has no choice but to seek shelter at Namjoon’s house.

"Let me guess," Namjoon sighs upon seeing Jungkook at his doorstep. "You've angered your wife again, didn't you?"

"Namjoon-hyung! That's a mean guess. Can't I visit my friend?"

Namjoon remains expressionless. "You only go here whenever you and your wife fight. Your wife will think I betrayed her if I let you in."

Jungkook hmphed. "My wife already has beef with your soulmate and, by extension, with you too. So just let me in, will you?"

Namjoon releases a breath when Jungkook pushes the door open and rushes in. He is right, anyway. You have beef with his soulmate. Namjoon always receives texts from you complaining about Hoseok and how ruthless he is as a government employee.

"Would you like something to drink—" Namjoon cuts himself off upon seeing Jungkook helping himself with a bottle of soju.

The detective takes large gulps. He finishes half of the bottle in less than two minutes. Jungkook hiccups and clumsily wipes his mouth, "My wife found her soulmate. She can see colors now."

Namjoon stops in his tracks.

Jungkook laughs, mocking himself. "His eyes are purple, hyung."

"Jungkook..." Namjoon sounds apologetic.

"What's with your expression?" Jungkook’s lips twist. "You look sorry. Don't be. I'm—"

Happy for her? Jungkook shakes his head. It seems like that's not the case. Namjoon thinks so, too. He sits in front of the detective.

"You're what, Jungkook-ah?" The older man opens a beer bottle for himself, "What do you feel for your wife? What does she make you feel?"

Silence creeps into the room.

Jungkook's shoulders drop. Memories from the past play in his head as he closes his eyes.

Twenty-one years ago, 2002:

11-year-old Jungkook is freezing cold.

He is out in the snow, trying to take a sneak peek at children his age playing on the school grounds. Unlike him, the students are covered with expensive coats, mittens, and a hat. Jungkook's mother is a janitress at a private elementary school in Busan. Sadly, she can't afford to send her son to this school, so Jungkook can only watch the other kids in envy.

The children here have winter camps and activities to support their growth. Today, Jungkook watches as the students make mittens. Some children give the handmade gloves to their family, friends, or teachers.

Only one girl saves her mittens for a lone stranger.

"Here," Jungkook is taken aback when a girl his age suddenly approaches him. She’s shorter than Jungkook, but her determined eyes make people think she has much to offer. 

"I said here!" Jungkook remains unmoving, so the girl pushes the mittens to his chest. "I can't see it yet, but my mum said the gloves are gray like my eyes! I made them myself."

The little girl looks proud; a huge grin is on her lips.

Jungkook blinks dumbly at her, "Why...." He takes in a deep breath, clutching the warm gloves to his chest. "Why are you giving me these gloves?"

The little girl looks confused; she even lets out a small huh. Jungkook thinks the girl didn't hear him, so he repeats his words.

You are that little girl. You shrug your shoulders. "Because I want to. You look cold. I don't want to see you cold."

"But," Jungkook's lips tremble. He is having a hard time accepting the gift. "I have nothing to trade you with."

"Who cares?" You sit beside him. "I don't want anything. I just want to be friends."

Present; 2023:

Until now, Jungkook has no idea why you wish to be friends with someone like him. Clearly, you were a world apart. It was winter then. Maybe it was a Winter miracle—if this is even a thing.

But Jungkook is sure of one thing:

"She makes me feel warm, Namjoon-hyung." The detective finally answers his friend's question earlier. "My wife makes me warm, loved, and hopeful."

****

You receive a text message from Namjoon asking you to pick up a hammered Jungkook.

"Hey, you're leaving already?" Taehyung sees you leaving the office.

You rub the back of your neck and smile softly at Taehyung, "Yes. I have to pick up my husband."

"Ah." Taehyung nods, "Jungkook, isn't it? The detective from earlier?"

"Mn. I'm really sorry about what happened."

"It's nothing," Taehyung assures. It will probably take him a long time to forget his encounter with those two strange detectives, but it's not so bad. They apologized and said it was an honest mistake. He motions toward the door, "You brought your car, right? Let’s go down together.”

“You’re going home too?”

“Not yet.” Taehyung opens the office door for his soulmate. “Just gonna get coffee.”

Taehyung’s obsession with caffeine doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Taehyung joined your team only this week but has probably gone to the coffee shop downstairs more than your team did.

You brush it off. It’s none of your business. What matters to you is what Jungkook drinks. After bidding Taehyung goodbye, you immediately rush to Namjoon’s house. He is absolutely right. Jungkook is wasted.

"Why did you let this asshole drink so much!?" You bare your teeth at Namjoon. "You know how he is, Namjoon! Did he even eat before chugging down soju? Soju! You made him drink soju!? Namjoon, you golden-eyed clumsy bastard! Your eye color looks like horse piss!"

You are getting creative with your insults now that you can see colors. Namjoon shakes his head. He likes you better when you still see in black and white; at least then, you don’t go around terrorizing people and their eye color.

"I'm sorry. He forced himself into my home." Namjoon throws Jungkook under the bus. He'd rather get a playfully upset Jungkook than a screaming girl like you.

You know better than to put all the blame on Namjoon, though. You know Jungkook drank himself stupid because he can't handle it when you are genuinely mad at him.

You swallow your fury, "You know what? Just…have a good night, Namjoon-oppa. I'm sorry for shouting and the trouble. I'll make it up to you some other time."

You drag Jungkook to your car.

The detective is no fun when drunk. He just passes out. You can't even get blackmail material out of this hell.

"Fucking finally." You cover your husband with a blanket after cleaning him up and changing his clothes into new ones.

"Bastard." You sneer but still end up softly kissing Jungkook's forehead.

Ah. The things you do for love.

****

Jungkook wakes up with a stomachache and a sweaty forehead. He dramatically whines, cradling his stomach like he has been shot there.

Thankfully, you show up at once. You are carrying a tray with a full meal.

"My stomach hurts." He complains, earning an eye roll from you.

"Of course it does. You fucking drank alcohol on an empty stomach. You also had that stupid drink at the coffee shop. Just what the hell are you thinking?"

You sit on the bed. You first brush your husband's fringe with your fingers, then cup his cheeks and casually wipe the side of his mouth.

"Here, eat something."

Jungkook doesn't need to tell you to feed him. You bring a spoonful of food to his mouth, gently urging him to eat.

The detective moans. Your food tastes like heaven, even better than those Michelin restaurants. "My wife is such a great cook. Thank you~~"

"Whatever. Just don't moan, bastard." You can feel your cheeks turning hot. You easily get flustered with compliments.

Jungkook suddenly wonders if Taehyung has said something to make you blush, too.

"Oi, Jungkook. Don't tell me you don't have an appetite anymore. You barely ate!"

It's not like the detective doesn't want to eat anymore. His mood only plummets when he thinks about your soulmate.

Jungkook utters your name softly and asks, "Are you happy?"

"What kind of question is that?" You scrunch your nose, but you still answer. "Of course I'm happy." I have you in my life.

"No. I mean, are you happy you can see colors now?"

"I'm happier." You are surprised at how quickly you answered. Maybe because it's never hard for you to tell the truth. But still...you don't want to sound insensitive. You know your husband has yet to see colors.

You try again, "I mean...seeing colors makes my job easier, and I’m not just saying this because I'm getting promoted soon." People in their world have a greater chance of success once they see colors. 

"I guess I appreciate my job even more. It makes me feel alive, if you will. Things seem "livelier..."

You look into Jungkook's brown eyes. You can see them sparkling. For the first time in twenty-plus years you have known Jungkook, this is the only time you have seen how pink his lips are.

You can feel your heart thumping.

Looking at Jungkook with colors makes you feel "More." You whisper, "I feel things more with colors, Jungkook."

More love.

More joy.

And more clarity about what you really feel about your best friend.

"That's good, then." Jungkook rests his head on your shoulders. "I'm glad you're happy."

He really is. If he can go back to last night, Jungkook won't hesitate to tell Namjoon that, even though it hurts him, he's glad you met the one fated to you.

*****

Months pass, and things get even better for you. You got promoted twice and now handle one of your company's major customers. Your wallet gets fatter—so shouting at Namjoon to tell Hoseok to calm down doesn’t work anymore. Your free time is almost non-existent, though. It makes Jungkook sigh.

“Hey, Jungkook. You’re free to go.” Jungkook’s mood soars when his partner at work approaches him.

“Seokjin-hyung!” Jungkook’s jaw drops to the floor. “Did I hear you right? Are you seriously allowing me to get off work an hour earlier!?”

Seokjin is a hardworking detective who does not joke around since he knows his job affects the public's general welfare. Still, he also knows that you and Jungkook are celebrating your anniversary as a married couple for ten years.

“Just go, Jungkook-ah.” Seokjin pushes him. “Just leave before I change my mind. And for heaven’s sake, get your wife anything but flowers. No one wants to see you sneezing all day. Keep your snots away--!!”

Jungkook walks faster, not wanting to hear his work partner complain. So what if he sneezes all day? So what if he’s allergic to flowers? You love flowers, so he’ll get you bouquets.

Humming, Jungkook makes his way to the flower shop. The snowflakes fall lightly. It’s winter. Jungkook met you in the winter of 2002. You also got married in winter, the year 2013. Other people don’t like this season, especially Hoseok, who watched Namjoon suffer a fall accident because of slippery ground three years ago. Thank goodness Namjoon is okay now.

Jungkook buys flowers and your favorite wine. He’s almost home when a ghost from the past blocks his way.

“Oh, if it isn’t the beloved scoundrel of my bitch of a soulmate.”

Jungkook stiffens, eyes turning dark as he takes in the lone figure of his father.

“Jeon Sungmin.” Jungkook’s tone is scathing.

“The one and only.” Sungmin juts his chin. “Did you miss me, son?”

“Don’t call me that.” Jungkook clenches his fist. Unadulterated anger fills his heart. He’s trying hard not to punch this pathetic man. “In case you forgot, I still have a restraining order against you. I can even arrest you myself.”

Sungmin lets out a sardonic laugh. It’s loud—the kind of laughter that makes Jungkook’s skin itch. He can’t see colors but could’ve sworn he sees blood. Maybe he just wants to claim blood.

“Don’t act so tough on me, boy. In case you forgot, you just stood like a dumb bastard when I killed your bitch of a mom.”

“Stop.” Jungkook chokes, feeling a lump forming in his throat. He can’t breathe. Memories have come to haunt him.

“Scared, aren’t we?” Sungmin drags his limping feet to Jungkook. Twenty years in prison broke his body but not his soul. Even with only his tattered clothes and one functioning eye, Sungmin can still bring terror to his son.

“You should be. You’re nothing but a pathetic scourge.” Sungmin pulls Jungkook’s collar, slamming him into a cold wall. “Now be of use and give me money.”

Jungkook doesn’t move. His eyes droop, wanting to puke as he feels his father stealing his wallet. He hears screams inside his head, the pleas of his mother. Jungkook-ah, run. Please. You have to save yourself. 

Jungkook remains rooted in his spot back then, just hollowly looking at the blood on the floor. He watched as Sungmin smashed the baseball bat into his mother’s head.

More screams. Sungmin didn’t stop the beating until the police officers came.

Twenty years later, Jungkook is still the same. He still can’t stand up for himself. He watches his father take his wine and wallet, leaving like nothing happened.

Jungkook doesn’t know how he manages to walk back home. He stays outside, ruined flowers in his lap. He cannot get in as his keys are inside his stolen wallet.

Jungkook could only wait for a purple-eyed girl whose eyes he thought were gray.

****

Like Jungkook, you get off work early as well. Your secretary runs after you, saying that you can’t leave yet. However, you dismissed the secretary and passed the work on to Yeonjun instead. You hate that you are not home yet. You are actually supposed to take the day off to plan your anniversary date with your husband better.

It’s your 10th anniversary, after all. You are thinking of cooking Jungkook’s favorite food and giving him a…body massage. Many things are running into your mind—you can’t wait to try them all with your husband. Too bad work is holding you back.

“Sunbaenim, what do you think about this color combination? Is the shade of blue too dark for this winter’s theme?” Yeji excitedly shows off her design.

You rub your neck roughly, stopping yourself from throwing profanities. Calm down. Yeji is a hardworking designer who only wants the best for the team.

“I’m thinking of using an aqua frost instead. One shoulder sleeve should do the trick if—”

Oh my God. ‘Someone, please kill me now.’ You scream internally.

“Yeji,” you press your lips into a thin line. “I actually can’t entertain you right now. Would you mind checking in with Taehyung instead?”

Yeji’s shoulders drop. “Ah, Taehyung-sunbaenim isn’t here at the moment.”

“What do you mean he’s not here?” You feel your head pulsating. “Where is he?”

Everyone is so busy. Taehyung can’t possibly skip work, right?

“He’s at the coffee shop downstairs.”

That son of a--!!

You stand up abruptly. Taehyung’s coffee break ended an hour ago! How can he still be at the coffee shop!? You are seething in anger. You know Taehyung is your soulmate, but you can’t just connect to him. The first few months are okay. However, you soon realize how incompatible you and Taehyung are. Your connection starts with colors, and it also ends there. Nothing more, nothing less.

“I’m going to call him.” You exit, ignoring Yeji’s call. Honestly, what you said is half lie and half-truth. You just really, really want to leave the office. It’s a pure happenstance to bump into Taehyung in the elevator.

“Hey.” He calls your name. Remnants of joy are still visible on Taehyung’s face. Two coffee holders are in his hands—he got the whole team some drinks. “I got coffee. Where’re you going?”

“Home.” You press the elevator button. “It’s my husband and I’s anniversary.”

“Ah.” Taehyung nods in understanding. He never once shows any sign of disappointment over his soulmate spending time with another person. “Didn’t you say Detective Jeon likes eating sweets? Jimin-hyung baked a chocolate cake today. Will you accept it as my anniversary gift for you two?”

You pause. It’s like your brain short-circuits upon noticing Taehyung’s expression when he utters Jimin’s name.

Jimin—the barista and baker at the coffee shop where Taehyung frequents.

“Taehyung,” your heart stutters. “D-Do you remember your first day in the office?”

“Of course.” Taehyung offers a small smile. “It’s hard to forget that day, don’t you think? We both saw colors for the first time.”

You blink at him, not saying anything.

Taehyung avoids eye contact, thinking he’s not smart enough to understand what you implied. He tries to remember every detail of that day.

“I think I came to the office ten minutes earlier. I got everyone coffee. Come to think of it, Jimin-hyung actually saved me that day. He knows everyone’s order—Hey, are you alright?”

“You…” You gasp. “You met with Jimin before seeing me at the office, right?”

“Yes?” Taehyung’s hands are getting clammy for grasping the coffee holders. It doesn’t help that you are acting weird, making him more anxious.

“Taehyung, I think there’s been a glitch.”

Yeji goes after you a few minutes later. Both of you and Jimin are taking too long. Luckily, she instantly spots you at the elevator door. You look agitated, while Taehyung seems dumbfounded.

“Sunbaenim!” Yeji tries to stop you two, but you and Taehyung have already gotten inside the lift.

“Yeji, there you are.” Taehyung passes the coffee holders to Yeji. “Drink this with the others. We’ll be taking another break. See you later.”

“Wait—!!”

The elevator door closes.

Yeji whines, “I still have to show you my designs….”

****

You rush home, excited to see your husband. However, your excitement quickly turns into horror when you spot Jungkook sitting on your porch.

“Jungkook!?” Your eyes dilate. Jungkook is staring into nothingness. You are familiar with this kind of expression, the kind where you are forced to swallow your insults because you know. 

You know something terrible happened to your husband.

You quickly open the door and pull Jungkook to his feet. The detective is still unresponsive, letting you drag him into the bathroom. You did all the work; you immediately opened the heater and got warm clothes.

“Kook,” you call softly, cradling Jungkook’s hands to blow on them. “ Can you lift your arms for me? Let’s get you changed, alright?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer but does what he’s told. You are shaking as you help your husband change. You want to give the detective warm water and candies, but Jungkook still looks shaken. You can only gently drag him to bed. You lay down beside Jungkook, hugging him close to your chest.

You didn’t ask any questions, allowing Jungkook to breathe first.

“I--” Jungkook hiccups, sounding broken. He weakly grips the hem of your shirt.

“I’m here, Darling.” You kiss your husband’s forehead. You hug him even tighter, wishing to melt your body and bones and offer all your warmth and love to Jungkook.

Jungkook calls your name, his voice almost sounding like a wounded animal.

You caress your partner’s cheeks. They’re wet. It takes everything in you to pick up the pieces of your broken heart. No. You can’t fall apart now. Jungkook needs you.

“Mn. I’m here. You can tell me what you want.”

“N-No.” Jungkook whimpers, “I don’t want anything. I—I don’t deserve anything.”

“Jungkook.” You break the hug and force Jungkook to sit up on the bed. He’s warm enough. He’ll live.

The detective cast his gaze down, though—an indication he doesn’t want to hear whatever you have to say.

It pisses you off.

“Jungkook. Look at me.” You demand sternly. But Jungkook shakes his head.

“No, you’re mad at me.”

“Heck yeah, I’m mad. I’m so mad I can punch your face right now.” You have been patient with him, believing he’s vulnerable and in need of space. But your heart is only soft for a sad Jungkook, not for a Jungkook who blabs stupid things.

Jungkook balls his hands into fists, “You don’t understand. It’s so noisy in here.” He points at his head, “They won’t shut up. I’m—he….”

Jungkook gasps for air. You panic. You rub Jungkook’s back.

“Jungkook,” the saddest thing in this world is not seeing colors; it’s watching your beloved deal with the pain while you sit there pathetically, unable to take even a fraction of his hurt.

What good is a soulmate when all it can bring is color? Why can’t you take away Jungkook’s pain?

“He’s back, my father is out of jail.” Jungkook grips the bedsheet, “He’s come back for me. He hurt her before. He always takes away the people I love.”

Trauma is a part of Jungkook; napping silently and with one wrong shake, it’ll wake up and wreak havoc.

“You should run. Leave me. I don’t have a use to you, anyway—”

“Hush,” you can’t bear to listen anymore. You pull Jungkook to your chest, but the detective struggles.

“Please. You have to listen to me! Just leave! We’re not soulmates. I don’t understand why you’re still here!" Jungkook pushes your chest, but you catch his hands, burying Jungkook’s face into your neck.

“Oh, ma moitié.” The French endearment sounds easy coming out of your mouth. Jungkook melts at once. He sobs against your skin.

Ma moitié translates to my other half.

Jungkook wants to curse this unfair world. That’s right. How can you and him not be each other’s other half? It’s difficult to fight for you when fate is against you two. Sometimes Jungkook feels like no one has the right to tear you apart, mainly because you two paint each other's life—not with colors but with love. You and Jungkook are soulmates by heart. Many people call you twin black. The monochromatic world doesn't rob the two of you of happiness, love, and care. It takes one Jeon Jungkook to know that you like drinking cold water, not just 'cold water.' It has to be a certain degree of coldness:

If the water sits in the refrigerator for two hours, that's not cold enough. If it's water coming from a semi-solid ice cube, then that's too cold. 

You are fussy, but you give your effort to Jungkook similarly. Whenever you pick Jungkook up from work, you never fail to put your expensive leather jacket on the passenger seat, so Jungkook wouldn't have to deal with a burning hot seat. You don’t mind being stuck in the traffic and driving for hours to pick him up at work every day.

“Why can’t you be mine?” Jungkook doesn’t have the energy to push you away. His hatred is directed toward fate, himself, and his deranged father. Why are they against you and him being together?

“But I’m already yours, Kook.” You lick Jungkook’s tears and kiss his eyes. “Everything about me belongs to you. This,”

You guide Jungkook’s hands to your eyes, lips, and neck, then lower Jungkook’s hands to your heart. You let the detective feel your beating heart.

“You hear that, Kook?” Your eyes well up with tears. “That’s my heart telling you something.��

Goosebumps prick at Jungkook’s skin.

You do not break eye contact. “I love you, Jungkook.”

You have said those words countless times before, but it doesn’t fail to take Jungkook’s breath away—especially now that the I love you is said so softly…so romantically.

“You’re my soulmate, Jungkook.”

Jungkook flinches, shaking his head rapidly.

“T-That can’t be. You…you see colors. I don’t. We’re—we’re….”

Why are you lying? Why are you giving Jungkook false hope? It’s cruel.

But you are insistent.

“Jungkook,” you kiss him. “Stop thinking for a while, yeah? Focus on me. Focus on my heart. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Jungkook answers against your lips. He never responded before, simply allowing and relishing the taste of your sweet lips.

“I love you so much,” Jungkook repeats, groaning and biting your lips until it draws blood. Jungkook had never allowed himself to possess before, scared that he would end up ruining what he loved. But today is different. You are addicting. Claiming he loves you gives him so much power--

He pushes you to bed, pressing himself on top of you.

Jungkook kisses you. “I love you. I love you. I really, really love you.”

 --so much happiness.

“I love you.”

--so much color.

Jungkook stops kissing you; his head spins.

--so much color.

Color.

The monochromatic world is slowly changing.

Color.

More colors.

Jungkook’s eyes grow wide.

He looks at you under him.

He gasps and calls your name. Your name sounds like a prayer coming out of Jungkook’s mouth.

“Your eyes…they’re purple.”

You chuckle under him. You wipe Jungkook’s tears.

“Took you long enough to realize, Kook.”

Jungkook laughs hysterically. He stares into your eyes again, ensuring he’s not dreaming or going crazing.

Your eyes are really purple—not gray.

At this very moment, Jungkook realizes something: out of all the suicide methods in history, Jungkook thinks that if he were to try one, it still wouldn’t work because seeing the purple in your eyes will bring him back to life.

Really. No amount of oxygen can compare to the image of you lying on your bed, purple eyes glistening as you whisper sweet nothings to your soulmate. With that, Jungkook feels he can finally breathe.

****

Meanwhile, on Aurora Fashion Lane, Taehyung runs toward the coffee shop. The conversation he had with you at the elevator rings inside his mind.

There has been a glitch.

That’s right. Taehyung remembers that day like the back of his hand.

It’s 6:23am. He went to a coffee shop looking so composed, but he’s actually very nervous. However, the presence of the barista calms him down.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” Jimin, the barista, asks. A soft smile adores his pretty face.

Taehyung feels his heart skipping a beat. He licks his lips, “You can tell?”

“You smell different.”

“Really.” Taehyung feels blood rushing to his face.

Jimin laughs. “Don’t be conscious. I said you smell different, not bad. I can tell because I’m blind. My other senses are heightened because of it.”

“Ah.” Taehyung is fascinated. Jimin prepares coffee like a pro. He won’t know Jimin can’t see if he didn’t say it.

“This one is for your head designer; she likes her coffee with some liquor. I sneak some little candies onto her tray so she can bring them home to Detective Jeon, her husband.” Jimin pushes a coffee cup to Taehyung.

“This one is for Yeji. She prefers iced coffee even when it’s freezing cold. This one is for Ji-Eun. She likes tea and not coffee. Yeonjun never changes his order. It’s always two shots of espresso. Jake drinks anything, as long as it’s not too bitter. And this,”

Jimin smiles, “Is for you. A bulgogi sandwich and iced latte. The sandwich is not spicy, so you don’t need to worry. Have a good day.”

Taehyung feels like floating in the air when he goes to work. He first sees you at the door, looking so pensive early in the morning.

You are thinking about your husband. His birthday is coming soon. You want to give him something precious.

A wristwatch? Nah. That’s too simple.

A perfume? Nope. You prefer it when he smells like you.

What about a picnic date near the sea? You can arrange for a firework display and…

Confess.

You flinch at your own thought.

Confess.

You want to confess to Jungkook because---

--you love him.

“Good morning.” Taehyung greets.

You are startled. You snap your head up to meet Taehyung’s face.

All of a sudden, a splash of colors welcomes you.

You see colors, and so does Taehyung.

“So yeah, I think there’s been a glitch.” Taehyung tries to explain to an expressionless Jimin. He swallows when the barista doesn’t answer.

Taehyung releases a deep sigh. Right. He probably sounds crazy right now. It’s not cool to suddenly barge at someone’s work and announce that you think the barista is your soulmate.

Taehyung scolds himself. He’s about to apologize and tell Jimin to ignore what he said when—

“I know,” Jimin responds.

Taehyung blinks up at him dumbly.

Jimin’s lips twist, “Didn’t I tell you I’m blind?”

What’s his blindness got to do with anything? Taehyung still likes him.

“Taehyung, I’m blind.” He repeats. “I’ve been blind since I was born. When I dream, I don’t dream visually, but.”

There’s a sudden pause. Jimin looks lost in thought.

He continues after a while, “The night before I met you, I dreamt of you. I saw a man who told me I was his soulmate. You two have the same voice, and here…” Jimin brings out his sketch pad and finally shows it to Taehyung.

“I draw the face of the man in my dream. Does it look like you?”

Taehyung gasps dramatically because, my gosh. Jimin has perfectly drawn his face!

“This is really me…I’m your soulmate, Jimin.” Taehyung stutters a breath. His heart beats fast.

Jimin chuckles softly, and then he touches Taehyung’s eyes. “Yes, you told me in my dream, too. I’m just waiting for you to realize it in real life.”

The thing about soulmates is it’s complex. Researchers even claim there are different universes, all of which have the concept of soulmates. Some hear the thoughts of their soulmates in their heads. Some are immortals and will only die if they do the act with their soulmates. And then comes their world, a monochromatic place where you’ll see colors once you look at your soulmate’s eyes.

But it’s not that simple. Sometimes, you have to free yourself from your own judgment first. Sometimes, you must be honest first; sometimes, you just have to wait.

****

Accept this fic while I take my time writing my ongoing JJK series here.

This is originally a soukoku fic I've written before. If you prefer that version, click here. I've converted it into a JJK x reader because it was requested by an anon here. If there are obvious mistakes in pronouns and such, please tell me because as said, this is originally a fic for a different fandom and it used to be a mxm pairing. I may have missed some thing while editing it.

I've written the same concept of soulmate ft. JJK years ago. It's a series which you can read here.

I appreciate comments the most! If you have suggestions about addtional tw, please don't hesitate to message me. Thank you ~~

[p0orbaby]

Stay With Me

summary: your habits put a strain on your relationship with leah

warnings: substance abuse, mention of drugs but nothing specific, a smidge of a toxic relationship

a/n: I’ve been feeling shitty so here’s some angst

word count: 969

-

You stood at her door, your heart pounding in your chest as you hesitated to knock. It had been days since you last spoke, and the guilt weighed heavily on your shoulders. But a moth drawn to a flame, you couldn't stay away any longer.

When she opened the door, a wave of relief and apprehension washed over you. She looked at you with concern etched in her features, her eyes searching yours for answers you didn't have. Or didn’t want or give her.

"Hey, Leah," you managed to say, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace.

Leah's brow furrowed in worry. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

You shrugged, trying to play it off. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just wanted to see you”

She stepped aside, allowing you to enter her apartment. The familiar scent of her perfume mingled with the fresh scent of her fabric softener, and a candle she lit after games to calm her down hit you. The familiarity of it all almost had you crumbling in front of her.

As you moved closer, the gravitational pull between you seemed to intensify, drawing you towards each other. The tension that had hung in the air dissolved into a magnetic force, pulling you into Leah’s embrace without a second thought. In that moment, the world fell away, and all that mattered was the warmth of her touch and the softness of her lips against yours.

Leah’s breath hitched in her throat as you leaned in closer, your lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her jaw. She tilted her head slightly, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she melted into your touch.

She pulls back, for breath, to talk herself out of falling for your tricks again, you’re not sure, but as her eyes locked with yours, her expression shifted from lust to concern.

She noticed the telltale signs—the dilated pupils, the glazed-over look—that betrayed the truth you were trying so desperately to hide.

"Are you… high?" Leah's voice was barely above a whisper, filled with a dissapointment you would’ve rather not been on the end of tonight.

You shifted uncomfortably in her arms, avoiding her gaze. "Maybe a little. It's no big deal”

Leah's expression hardened, her resolve evident in the way she held herself once she pushed you away from her. "No big deal? You know that's not true, Y/N. We've talked about this”

You took a step closer, reaching out to her, but she pulled away, the rejection stinging more than you cared to admit. "Come on, baby. Don't be like that. I just want to have a good time”

Leah's frustration boiled over, her voice laced with bitterness as she spoke. "You can't just waltz in here whenever you feel like it. You ignore me for days, weeks even, and then suddenly you show up expecting everything to go back to normal”

You flinched at her words, the sting of truth cutting deep. "It's not like that" you start to protest, feeling a pang of guilt gnawing irritatingly at your conscience.

Leah's eyes flashed with anger as she cut you off. "Isn't it? Because from where I'm standing, it sure feels like you only come to me when you want something”

You opened your mouth to argue, but she wasn't finished. "Do you even care about me at all? Or am I just some convenient distraction for you to use whenever it suits you?"

Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to find the right words, the weight of Leah's accusation crushing you. "That's not fair. You know I care about you," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the rushing in your ears.

Leah shook her head, her frustration evident in every line of her face. "Actions speak louder than words, Y/N. And right now, all I see is you using me as a way to ignore whatever shit you’ve gotten yourself into this time”

You felt a lump form in your throat as you looked at Leah, the pain in her eyes mirroring your own. "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you," you said, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

Leah's expression softened slightly, her anger giving way to rare sadness and resignation. "I know you didn't. But that doesn't change the fact that you did”

You swallowed hard, the weight of her words sinking in as you struggled to hold back tears. “I’ll leave,” you offered quietly, already turning towards the door, prepared to flee the confrontation and the shame that threatened to consume you.

But Leah’s hand on your arm stopped you in your tracks, her touch gentle yet firm. “No,” she said firmly, her gaze meeting yours with unwavering determination. “You’re not leaving like this.”

Confusion flickered in your eyes as you turned to face her once more. “What do you mean?”

Leah’s expression softened slightly, a hint of warmth shining through the mask of stoicism she wore so well. “I mean,” she began, her voice soft but resolute, “that you’re staying here tonight”

You blinked in surprise, caught off guard by her offer. “But I thought…”

“This is not a sign of forgiveness,” Leah interjected, her tone leaving no room for argument. “But it’s also not right to let you leave in this state. You need to sober up, and I have a spare room where you can do that safely”

You hesitated, torn between the desire to escape and the need to accept Leah’s offer of help. In the end, the weight of exhaustion and shame won out, and you nodded silently, unable to meet Leah’s eyes.

“Thank you,” your voice barely above a whisper, as Leah led you towards the spare room, each step a painful reminder of the mistakes that had brought you here.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

I would love a first date with Johnny storm, maybe after he gets his powers and we know he is kinda a playboy but I feel like after his powers he would want to find someone who wants him for him, and I was thinking that fem reader would be Reid's or Ben's shy sister, who likes Johnny but doesn't think he would go for her cause he's dated models and she's scared that he would be using her cause of him being a past playboy. Maybe some soft smut at the end, him showering her in affection and love, and I would love to see how everyone on the team would react to Johnny actually settling down

.⋆｡Just Perfect｡⋆.

Johnny Storm x plus size reader

First dates are never perfect but maybe this one could be

Warnings: reader is Ben’s sister, fluff, insecurity, mention of Johnny’s past, use of the word whore (Johnny was one it’s ok), swearing, implied smut WC: 1.1k

6k Follower Bingo Celebration

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

6:53 pm and you were rethinking your whole outfit. The dress was the wrong colour, it hugged you in weird places. The heels didn’t quite match the material and your makeup was subpar at best. You cringed as you looked at yourself in the mirror. “Fuck I can’t do it.” You turned to search for your phone but suddenly, the front door buzzer went off.

“No no no no. Why is he early?” You tripped over a rogue shirt, catching yourself on the bedroom door frame as the intercom crackled to life.

“Hey Baby Benny, you gonna let me in?” Your heart lurched at the sound of his croon, it was somehow still perfect even through the shitty speaker by your front door. “Oh wait, I know another way in. See you in a sec.” 

You darted for your purse, the one that definitely was not date worthy but it was the only one you had. You snagged the small brass handle that connected the strap to the purse, only noticing too late that a screw dropped from where it should have been and onto the floor. And just as the (locked) door to your balcony swung open to reveal a still smouldering Johnny Storm, the bar holding the d-ring together fell apart and your purse and everything inside it tumbled over the side of the hall table, slamming to the floor with the sickening sound of glass shattering.

“And that would be my compact.” Unable to fight it anymore, your shoulders dropped as the tears began to well up. “I’m so stupid.”

“Hey, hey baby.” Johnny’s warm hands curled around your elbows in a gesture you knew was supposed to be comforting but instead, it made you flinch away from him. This whole thing was too good to be true and you were a fool to think otherwise.

Your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to pull out of his arms but Johnny didn’t relent. “You are definitely not stupid. Your brother? Oh yeah he’s the dumbest rock I’ve ever met. But you are a beautiful genius.” 

“No.” You whimpered though you stopped struggling against his embrace. 

The charming smile he was known the world over for faded as his blue eyes grew darker. This was not the Johnny who had so playfully asked you on a date only a few days ago, this was something a lot more dangerous. Though his grip did not tighten, you dared not to move away. 

“Johnny-“ 

“Baby.” He responded firmly. “Y/N. What’s going on? Do you not want to go on a date with me that badly?” Your heart dropped to your feet, never had you seen him so utterly distraught, so insecure. Johnny was confident, smooth- a playboy in the truest sense but now, he looked so small.

You had thought it was a joke at first, the way he slid up to you as you fiddled around with some of your brother’s tools with a sly smirk on his face. He got close, the heat of his body setting your own alight as he caged you against the kitchen table. “So whaddya say, go out with me?” There had been dozens of reasons to say no but in that moment, all you could do was say yes because this was the man who had stupidly captured your heart so long ago and you were powerless to say no.

Trembling hands pressed against his chest, not quite enough to force space between you but to feel the erratic beating of his heart beneath the thin (fire resistant) button up he wore. “You don’t know how much I wanted this. But everything is all wrong and I think it means that maybe this wasn’t a good idea. I’m not supposed to get you. I’m not-“

“Not what?” His hands fell to your hips and you almost caved.

“I know what I look like, I know who I am. I can’t compete with the supermodels and movie stars. I’m not the girl that gets the super hot superhero, that’s not how it works.”

“That’s a lot of supers.” He gently pulled you closer, your stomachs now pressed together and for a second, you swore you felt something hard against you but then Johnny continued. “You’re right,” you bit down on your lip as your eyes burned with tears once more, but he didn’t flinch,  “because you are something better. Fuck baby, you are so outta my league.” 

“No I’m not.” You tried to protest but you were quickly silenced by a gentle squeeze to your hips. 

His lips curled into a smile you had never seen before, gentle and yet somehow still demanding. He was almost glowing under your undivided attention. “Yeah you are and everyone knows it. You should’ve seen my sister when I asked her where I should take you for our first date. She told me that I should be maxing out a credit card to spoil you rotten to make up for my and I quote ‘Johnny-ness’.” 

Your fight began to wither away and the way he smiled at you made it very clear that he knew he was winning. “You are the most gorgeous, kind, incredible, sexy woman I’ve ever met and I know I’ve been a bit of a, how do I say this delicately?”

“Whore.” You finished for him.

“Yes, that. Thank you,” he scoffed, “but you make me want something so much more than just sex. I want you. I want the peaceful mornings where you make coffee while I cook breakfast. The nights in, just being around you, listening to your voice, holding you the way I’ve wanted to since the moment you showed up in that stupid hospital after the accident. And you may think that things have gone so wrong today but I got to see you and that makes this date just perfect.”

“You make everything perfect.” He concluded as he cupped your cheek, keeping your gaze firmly fixed on him.

“You’re sure?” Your voice wobbled. 

“Never more sure of anything in my life.” The last word had barely left his mouth before you surged forwards and smashed your lips against his. His blue eyes widened and then he melted into the kiss matching your ferocity. You moaned as he tilted your head, encouraging you to part your lips.

“Fuck baby.” Your nails dug into his sides, desperately trying to both fill your lungs and keep kissing him, which Johnny was happy to oblige. “I wanted to treat you right, dinner and then maybe a kiss on the cheek but you’re making it fucking hard to keep my word.”

“Don’t care.” You muttered between pecks. “Wanna see why all those girls kept crawling back for more.” His hips rolled into you, letting you feel just how badly he wanted to show you.

“Whatever you want, baby. I wanna make this perfect for you.” 

“You already have.” You said as you pulled him into your bedroom.

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[sxcret-garden]

Heeseung ღ Treat you right [M]

ღ Enhypen Heeseung x fem-bodied!reader ღ words: ~2k ღ genre: smut (marking, oral (reader receiving), unprotected sex, a bit of overstimulation) ღ warnings: cheating ღ prompts: “I’m gonna fuck you so good you forget all about that bastard.” + “I like being close to you. You’re warm.”

Desc.: Your friend Heeseung has always been the person you would run to when your shitty boyfriend upset you once again. Little do you know that the secret attraction you harbour for your friend is mutual, and once that fact becomes clear, it doesn’t take long for one thing to lead to the other…

You sigh, hoping that the bitter aftertaste of your last fight with your boyfriend would disappear with it, as if you could breathe out the feelings, and you snuggle up closer to Heeseung. Your friend, who had welcomed you at his doorstep and let you in without hesitation as soon as he saw the sorry state you were in, is now lying in bed with you, his arms wrapped securely around you.

"You deserve better." - You remember the first time he had told you this, back when you were only just starting to go out with your current boyfriend, and even months later that statement still rings true. In moments like these at least, you believe his words, but when your boyfriend comes crawling back to you, mumbling apologies to you in between the sweetest kisses he can muster, you always end up forgiving him.

"Wanna talk about it?" Heeseung's voice tears through the silence in the room and through your thoughts, even though he's speaking softly. You shake your head however, burying your face in his chest as you pull him closer in your embrace. A sense of safety washes over you, and you let go of the tension in your body as you breathe out. "Then what? Should we just stay like this? Or do you want me to distract you?" He grins as he speaks the last part, and you can only imagine what goes through his head as he does. Still you shake your head.

"Let's stay like this," you mumble, and when you lift your head to look at his face, you add, "I like being close to you. You're warm."

The expression in your friend's eyes changes, and you don't miss the way he gulps at your words and at the proximity of your face to his. His gaze drops to your lips, and though he's fighting hard to focus on any other spot on your face instead, it's useless.

And it's not like you don't feel it too. The attraction, the way you feel at home with him, the way you've repeatedly caught yourself fantasizing about what it would be like to turn your back on your boyfriend and to run away with Heeseung instead. You can't fight the pull towards him - not that you would want to - and then you kiss him, your lips touching for merely a second.

"We shouldn't." He's the one to whisper those words, but their meaning quickly gets lost as you press your lips against his mouth again.

"Whatever," you mutter into the kiss. "That asshole isn't here anyway." Anger now coursing through your veins, you kiss Heeseung with more fervour, and he lets you. Supporting you by your hips as you crawl on top of him, he sighs into the kiss, permitting you to part his lips with your tongue. Sharing open mouthed kisses, your hands find their way up into his hair, and as if you had found a weak spot of his, he breaks the kiss and moans your name when you tug at the short strands. Using the opening, you begin to trail kisses from the corner of his mouth down to his jaw, and when he leans his head back to give you proper access to his neck, you move on to that area. Teeth nipping at his skin, he lets you hear breathy moans, and the sound of his voice only causes you to become more eager.

“Y/N,” he calls out to you suddenly, and when you bring some distance between you to look at him, he cups your face with his hand. “Are you sure about this?”

“Stop asking useless questions,” you mumble, attaching your lips to his jaw again, but he gently pushes you away in order to make eye contact with you again. He sits up with you still on top of him, now taking your face into both his hands, thumbs brushing against your cheeks.

“I just don’t want you to regret it after,” he says calmly, while his gaze drops to your mouth. Biting his lower lip and releasing it slowly while he waits for an answer, you feel yourself driven by impatience most of all when you wrap your fingers around his wrists. Taking his hands away from your cheeks you lean in to kiss him again, placing his arms on your shoulders instead.

“I won’t,” you whisper, and when Heeseung pulls back after kissing you once more, the expression in his eyes has changed. Hands roaming your body and tugging at your clothes, he soon peels off your shirt and you shiver as you feel his warm fingertips against the skin on your back. 

“Then I’m not gonna hold back,” he mutters against your neck, burying his head there and scattering kisses all over while he pulls you as close as possible. Without thinking, you roll your hips against his as you make out, and soon enough you can feel his bulge growing underneath you. He’s the first one to break away, leaving your lips longing for more with every second you don’t feel him kissing you. Hastily taking off his shirt, he then flips your positions around, pinning you to the bed by your wrists and going right back to sharing hot kisses with you.

“Fuck this,” he mutters, rolling his hips against yours and putting more strength behind the movement than you had just a few seconds ago. Heat rushes to your core and you moan into his kiss as you realize he’s no longer holding back, and you feel an overwhelming need to feel him inside you already. 

“Hee,” you call out to him as you throw your arms around him, raking your fingers up into his hair. “Please,” you mutter a single word, and when he parts from you, you know that it won’t take more than that to make him understand what you want. His lips leaving sloppy kisses down your throat and the middle of your chest, he doesn’t waste any more time to help rid you of your remaining clothes before also stripping out of his. 

“Babe…” he mumbles as he presses his mouth against your collarbone, and you involuntarily chuckle for but a second.

“Since when do you call me that?” you ask, and you mewl as he reaches your stomach, sinking his teeth into your skin. You permit him to suck a mark onto the spot right above your hip bone, and when he comes back up and you see the dark expression in his eyes, you feel the air getting knocked out of your lungs. 

“I always call you that in my head when I think about us doing exactly this,” he admits, and a shiver runs down your spine. He quickly kisses a trail further down, until he’s reached the inside of your thigh, and hooking his arms under your legs, he sinks his teeth into the delicate flesh there.

“Fuck,” you mutter as you throw your head back, both at the sudden pain and the thought of him getting off to dirty thoughts about you. And it’s not like you’ve never done the same, so you let out a moan of appreciation while he kisses the spot where he had just nibbled on your skin better. 

“You okay?” he checks in with you, hands searching for yours and intertwining your fingers. He’s so close to your core that you can feel his breath right where you want him most, and you nod quickly.

“Just touch me already, please,” you urge him on, and he doesn’t hesitate. You bite down on your bottom lip, stifling the whine that escapes you when you feel him pressing his lips against your dripping pussy, and you throw your head back. Digging your nails into the backs of his hands, you can feel the vibrations of him chuckling, before he lets his tongue dart across your clit. Alternating between that and wrapping his lips around the sensitive bud to suck on it, he’s quick to make you feel like you’re about to go crazy, and so all you can do is throw your head back and give yourself up to his touches. 

“Fuck… don’t stop,” you mewl, knuckles turning white at this point, and him humming in response. “Please, don’t stop…!” You cry out when you feel him slipping his wet muscle inside you, and he moans at your taste.

“...taste so good,” he mutters after pulling out, and he goes right back to drawing shapes on your clit. Shaking with expectation, you let out another whine when he repeats the process, darting his tongue into your pussy and then dragging it back up to tease your clit. “I-I’m getting close…” you let him know, and that’s when he lifts his head, stopping his ministrations at once.

“Don’t cum yet, babe,” he mutters and he crawls up to kiss you. Tasting yourself on his tongue, you throw your arms around him and drag your nails down his back. “I’m gonna fuck you so good you forget all about that bastard.” His words still ringing in your ears as he parts from you, you feel him pushing into you the next second, and you let out a whine from the overwhelming bliss of being filled up so perfectly. He reaches behind himself to help you wrap your legs around his hips while he lets you adjust to his size, and when he grabs your wrists to pin them against the bed right beside your head, he mumbles,

“You ready?” You nod in desperation.

“Please fuck me.” Heeseung doesn’t hesitate upon hearing your plea, and when he starts snapping his hips into yours, you’re not the only one who moans from the pleasure and the relief. 

“Fuck… shit.” A string of curses falls from his lips, a drop of sweat running down his forehead, and with every time he pulls out and thrusts all the way back in, he hits that delicious spot deep inside you. You feel yourself losing control quickly, clenching your hands into fists and you can’t stop yourself from calling out his name over and over as you’re chasing your high.

“Don’t stop… Heeseung… I swear to god, don’t s-stop…!” Your high comes crashing down on you, shaking your whole body and he fucks you right through it, relishing in the desperate moans and whines you let out as your orgasm fades and the pleasure mixes with the overstimulation. And then he releases inside you with a grunt, and he comes to a halt, panting.

“Fuck…” he breathes out another curse as he rolls off you, lying down right next to you with your upper arms touching and you’re both catching your breaths. You say nothing for a long while, focused on the emotions still racing through your entire body. And then eventually, you move and you lie down on top of him, brushing some strands of hair out of his face and brushing your lips against his.

“Let’s go out,” you say, and your friend reacts with a gasp.

“The two of us?” he questions. And starting to grin, he adds, “Like… as a couple?”

“Yeah,” you answer. “We’ll be so much better together than me and that asshole.” You give him a smile that he returns, and then you kiss him again. “Yes or no?” Heeseung sits up with you on top of him, hands cupping your face, and there’s a kind of joy behind his gaze that you don’t see too often. With half-lidded eyes and a smug smirk sitting on his lips, he gives you a lingering kiss, and then he says,

“I’ll treat you right. Just trust me.”

[orcasoul]

Joel Miller Imagine #2

Warnings: Swearing, sexual themes

Word Count: 840

QZ boyfriend Joel who has never publicly said he's you're boyfriend, but it's just known between you both that he's yours and you're his.

QZ boyfriend Joel who likes to know where you're going and when you'll be back (not in a controlling way, but that's just how dangerous QZ life is) Who knows deep down it's unlikely that anyone would threaten you lest they want to face his legendary fury, but it brings him peace of mind to know your whereabouts in case you ever need him. Who's always ready to pounce if a man even looks at you disrespectfully.

QZ boyfriend Joel who's quick temper has always controlled his mouth, sometimes snapping and saying things he really doesn't mean during an argument. Who internally hates himself when he sees the tears you've been tying so hard to hold back. Who when things have calmed somewhat, will apologise sincerely and tell you he'll try to do better instead of blowing up, and makes sure you know how much you mean to him, even though he'll never say the three words you want to hear; but he does, so fucking much!

QZ boyfriend Joel who's often harsh, blunt and violent - when needed- with people, but is always soft and caring when it comes to his girl, especially when you're having another tough day, who holds you firmly in his strong arms when you wake in a blind panic from another nightmare. Who feels a sense of relief and purpose when his embrace and the low timbre of his voice helps to sooth you back to sleep.

QZ boyfriend Joel who feels terrible when he leaves on a smuggling run with Tess and has to leave you behind, no matter how much you protest (he actually finds your pouting to be quite cute on times, but he'll never tell you that) Who knows that if anything ever happened to you it would be the end of him. He'd rather you mad at him than dead or... worse.

QZ boyfriend Joel who's secretly flattered when you get jealous of the time he spends with Tess. Who has told you time and again, there's no one else for him but you (and it's true. He could never imagine being with anyone else) and that the only reason he bothers with Tess is because she's one of the best smugglers in the QZ.

QZ boyfriendJoel who instantly dislikes any man (except for the few you both know) who tries talking to you, who sees any other man as a potential threat to your safety. After all, this is hell on earth and when society crumbles so do the morals and decency of a lot of men.

QZ boyfriend Joel who sometimes finds his mind drifting to the old world, wishing he could give you everything you deserve in life. It's why he became a smuggler in the first place, so you will never need for ration cards.

QZ boyfriend Joel who fucks nasty. Who, when he's had a bad day, won't even talk about it at first. Instead he'll grab you and bend you over the nearest piece of furniture, ripping your trousers and panties down without even opening the button (so many ration cards wasted on new buttons). Who, before pushing himself inside your waiting tunnel, leans over you into your ear, asking if you remember the safe word. Who, when he's gets the confirmation he needs, spears himself into you, fucking you at a brutal pace until you're soaking not just his cock, but the tops of his thighs too. Who, after he has fucked out all of his frustrations, cleans you up and holds you like you are fine china. Only then will he tell you about his shitty day.

QZ boyfriend Joel who makes love to you with a tenderness and devotion that belies his gruff and intimidating exterior. Who always makes sure you come before he slides into you, eating you out like a man devouring his last meal (which in this world, it could very well be) Who pushes deep and slow into you, dragging himself against your sweet spot and only speeding up the snap of his hips when you want him to go faster. Who whispers words of affection against your neck as you throw your head back in ecstasy, crying out his name. Who holds you in his arms all night long, watching the flutter of your eyelids and listening to your soft breaths, wishing you could both stay in this moment forever and not have to face another gruelling day tomorrow.

QZ boyfriend Joel who will stop at nothing to make a better life for you both outside the QZ. Who traded three months worth of saved up ration cards for a dodgy old car battery. Who promises that very soon, you'll both leave the QZ and start a new life in Jackson, where his brother lives.

QZ boyfriend Joel who will get you out of here if it's the last thing he does!

[m1ssunderstanding]

Notes on Nowhere Boy

Finally posting the long version of the close-watch I did for @sleeper9's Fete zine. The bad thing about me is I hate spending money and love pirating shitty quality versions of movies. The good thing about the Beatles fandom is we're used to dealing with grainy pics. Anyways, here goes!

The opening ten seconds really do set the tone for the film, and here's why. It's the opening of A Hard Day’s Night where the boys are running from a hoard of screaming fans and George biffs it. John sees him go down, laughs, and keeps running. Only here, it's just John. George’s fall has been erased, making John into a cocky, if slightly insane, little lone hero. 

Mimi: do I ignore you? No. So please don't ignore me. Me: ummm, yeah you do ignore him, Mimi. Enough to leave deep psychological scars. But it's fine. Moving on.

Ugh, Uncle George is so sweet! I wonder how much of John's sweetness he learned from him. I wish we knew more about him.

Actually that was Jim that set up a cord running into Paul's room from the radio downstairs. But it fits Uncle George's character, so it works. 

Why did they make Mendips look a lot more working class than it actually was? No fancy iron fence, no pretty hexagonal outcropping, no stained glass veranda? 

Aaron Taylor Johnson is nailing it though. The laugh sounds very John, and this posture? Perfect. 

Okay but if that doesn't heartbreakingly encapsulate John and Mimi I don't know what does. Uncle George has just died. John goes to Mimi, wraps her from behind in a tight embrace and lets out a sob. Her response is to push him away. “Please, let's not be silly. If you want to do that, go to your room.” Alright, it's making me feel things, it's winning me over. 

John making his cousin Stan go and ask Mimi where Julia is is also extremely accurate. Always had someone to do the dirty work for them, all of them. 

Mimi's concern as John's going to visit his mother in the “bad” part of town is very good to have in too. “And you will be careful, hmm? Careful who you talk to.” And John's response, “it's only Blackpool, Mimi.” It's true. It could've been Speke, or the Dingle. Which Quarryman did I read saying Mimi didn't like John even leaving Woolton?

John's hurt little face when he finds out his mum, all this time, has been less than a bus ride away is a very clever way to show us his painful confusion about the whole situation. 

Trying to remind myself that this is a very anti-Julia pro-Mimi movie that will try to make me think she's crazy. But it sure is doing a hell of a good job. She hasn't seen him in years and suddenly she's hand feeding him desserts, kissing him every chance she's got, flirting all over the place. “Do you know what it means? Rock and Roll? Sex.” “Don't tell Mimi, alright? This is our little secret. Promise me.” And to a poor affection-starved boy, that's going to feel good. That's going to put thoughts in his head like “this is how it should be”. I mean I know she was wild and fun and sexy and irresponsible. And I know John did have weird thoughts about her. But I hope she wasn't actually this crazy. 

But the weird Freudian thing aside, he's got to be so terribly confused hearing the woman who effectively abandoned him declaring her love for him. Between Mimi and Julia, John would've had such a messed up idea of what that word meant. 

The Daily Howl, my absolute beloved!!

Nowhere Boy John watching Elvis: damn I've gotta get the girls screaming for me like that! Actual John watching Elvis: he's so beautiful! He's perfect! I'm in love!

Also I do not think sixteen year old John was that good at fingering. Just saying. 

This part always drops my heart cold into my stomach. Poor John. Poor poor baby. You can hear his little boy voice calling, “mum? It's me.” And she mutters, very annoyed, “go away.” Again. I have to remind myself that this is a purposely negative portrait of Julia. But then. It is true that she was a mostly absent and wholly undependable figure in John's life. 

Sometimes dialogue is absolutely perfect. Like this – “Aw, why couldn't God make me Elvis Presley?” “Cause he was saving you for John Lennon.” “Aw I'll get you back for that, God!” And this – “you haven't told Mimi, have you?” “No point going through her bullocks if I don't have to.” “Why? She has to go through yours.” “Yeah well I never asked her to, did I?”

Ugh this whole movie just hurts so bad! How he looks to Julia as Mimi is ordering him out of her house, just begging her to claim him this time. And she doesn't until he makes a stand for himself. And then, later. “How long can I stay?” Is met with nothing. Not even a fake “long as you want, love.” It really plays into the title of the film. This boy's got nowhere to call home. And then, the final straw. Look at his face as he hears Julia agree that he does in fact need to go back to Mimi's. If I did that kind of thing, I'd actually be crying right now. Fuck, why was I knit-picking, this movie is working so well. 

 As he's announcing he's leaving Julia's, John wants her to tell him to stay. To at least pretend it's not what she wants. And she doesn't even look at him. Imagine if they did something like this in the John biopic mirrored with a scene with Paul in the breakup?

He's just so adorable looking at that guitar like he can't believe it's real.

John's gathered the og Quarrymen in the bathroom and Pete goes “I take it we're not here for a communal crap.” Idk Pete, wouldn't put it past him. It's not far off what you all do already.

It's making the Quarrymen look kinda cool here, and I really want them all to be shit except John, just because that's what I get from Paul's description. Not that he's biased or anything. He could've been watching John play with Elton John and David Bowie and he'd still say everyone faded into the background. 

Also Mimi would Not have been there. Not on her life. 

Okay now we're sort of seeing them from Paul's perspective. Bunch of losers surrounding this inimitable shining star. 

Accurate that the first thing John says to Paul is about jerking off. 

The dynamic in general is just so well-done in this first scene. John instantly testing Paul. How much shit will he put up with? And Paul instantly having none of it, showing off, and winning John over. 

All the other Quarrymen just know it's time to dust off the ole resume. 

But! Paul's fete “audition” is so toned down for this film. Although of course, accounts vary. He did 20 flight rock, yeah. But he also did it on someone's borrowed right hand guitar turned upside down. And he did little Richard and played the piano, and tuned John's guitar for him. In one telling of it, John says he asked him to be in the group right there on the spot. So. Yeah. 

But either way, watching John watch Paul is just gorgeously gay. It's giving extreme “Oooooh, he likes hiiiiiim!” It's actually illegal not to queerbate using Lennon/McCartney and I'm glad all moviemakers seem to understand the law.

Cut to “John, your little friend's here!” Can you imagine if they'd showed the “chalk and cheese” whirling dervish moment? Or Mimi making Paul use the back door? Those might change some thoughts and feelings in this movie. 

And then we get the reciprocated “Oooooh, he likes hiiiiiim!” Moment as Paul's too busy checking out John’s buddy Holly Look to remember where he is, let alone what cord they're on. And it's so sweet because Paul's the first person who gives John the idea that his real self is actually cooler than his tough-guy act. 

The little matching feet tapping?? Eee it's so cute! 

But why miss the opportunity for them to sing in harmony here?

Sometimes the dialogue is extremely inaccurate. “So mummy’s cool about baby Paul wanting to be Elvis?” “Oh she would've loved it.” Like hell she would've. She would've been as disapproving as Mimi. Then again, maybe it is accurate for Paul to be lying about that.

“Well she – she sort of – died. You know, em. If we're gonna do this we should write our own stuff.” Okay yep there he is. That's Paul. 

Also love how John gets his first calluses after Paul the bossy taskmaster comes into his life. (You know. And the reason to push himself and a person who cares enough to take the time to show him things and it makes John all dreamy staring at the stars that night etc) Anyway. It's perfect. 

And the first gig we see after Paul joins is in a venue on a real stage with a much bigger audience, and the matching suits of course. 

Mimi selling John's guitar because of a bad report card is like the lighter, kinder translation of what happened in reality when she had his dog put down while he was staying at Julia's. 

So they kinda make up for not letting Paul sing etc by having him nail the guitar instead of screw up at this gig like he did irl. 

And he's stealing Julia's attention, which is clearly Not okay with John. Reminds me of that quote of Paul's about how they were both in love with John's mum. 

George is appropriately infantile. Good. Cutie. 

The Quarrymen playing “That's Alright, Mama” as John's making up with Julia since she bought his guitar back for him. Okay. Very clever. 

Paul does Not like John disrespecting his mother after the show for obvious reasons. (“I said something wrong now I long for yesterday.”) But clearly he doesn't have the full picture here. I wonder at what point irl Paul got a full run-down from John on his messed-up family life. Or did he just have to pull it together piece by piece over the years?

And of course he jumps to light Julia's cigarette. Boy was patting his pocket for a lighter like it was the race of his life. Mister steal your mum.

Here we are, ladies and gentlemen, Paul McCartney’s number two complaint about this movie: John was Not taller than him. How dare they? Slander.  

That's one hell of a jacket.

At the party, John's of course pissed to find Paul serenading Julia in the kitchen. But Paul just wants a mommy so bad, John. Why can't you just let him have yours since you clearly don't want her? Right, because you really, really do. More than anyone can understand. But when you showed her that – how bad you wanted her to be your mum, not just a friend – she hurt you. Forced you to go through your abandonment all over again. So now you can't show that anymore. 

The washboard over Pete's head is almost exactly accurate, isn't it? John does not handle people leaving him well. 

Ugh his little voice cracking on the word “mum.” John Lennon is a poor poor baby and I will die on that hill.

I wonder how John did find out about Victoria and the real story of why he was with Mimi. No matter how, though, that's certainly a lot of mess for a young man to be carrying around with him all the time in his head. 

“When your father came back from the merchant Navy, he wanted to try and save the marriage, but your mother would have none of it.” I do feel like we're going with Alf’s version of events here, the one he sold John in order to get into his good graces after he was famous. Which is, again, not fair to Julia. I wonder how little Julia feels about this movie. 

In fact, I think this part –  “who do you wanna be with, John? Do you wanna be with me or do you wanna be with your mum?” – has been categorically disproven. But it certainly does make for some high drama. And John himself did believe his father's story, so there has to be at least some emotional truth there. 

Nowhere Boy John: There's no point in hating someone you love. I mean really love. IRL John: How do you sleep, you cunt?!

There he is. Art School John. Though he fell in love with every iteration of John, I think this one never left his head because he was one of the earliest Johns, and he was a John Paul had to fight for, you know, with all the Stu business and dead mother anger.

He really does an excellent job of playing John, though, when he's written right. “Woman took her kit off and we painted her breasts. Not actually physically. I got my eye on you two.” Ridiculous. Charming. Off- putting. Adorable. 

Ignoring the fact that I prefer to think of “Hello, Little Girl” as being about Paul (“you never seem to see me standing there”) and they're making it about Julia, this is a lovely scene. With John somewhat unsure still of his songwriting abilities and Paul looking up at him from the floor full of admiration. 

Oh he's gonna murder someone. To be fair, I think playing Julia's banjo at her funeral is exactly the type of insensitive thing Paul would do, because he just thinks and feels in music and it makes Sense to him even though of course it's going to piss John off. 

Hilarious, and probably accurate tbh, that Paul's pissed John off so he gives Pete a bloody nose.

But here we go, the number one complaint about this movie from Paul, which I think is actually valid. John never hit him and that was important to both of them and it's disrespectful to portray it and play into the myth of their rocky, angry relationship. 

But maybe in 2009 that's what it took for them to be able to show John Lennon and Paul McCartney in a genuine, loving embrace, crying into each other's necks about mothers. It has to be preceded by John punching Paul in the mouth. 

If I was John's writing partner, my biggest beef with this movie would actually be the scene where they're recording ISOATD and making it look like John wrote it and played the guitar solo. But Paul's never even mentioned it. Which I guess really shows he cares far more about the legacy of his relationship with John than his career legacy. Which. If you mean more to Paul McCartney than his fucking music? Well then you must be just about important enough to have your own movie. 

This is really the Vote for Mimi Smith campaign, isn't it? Putting across the screen the fact that John called Mimi every week until he died as “Mother” plays in the background is brutal. Ouch. But it's true. “It's Mimi time.”

[mykoreanlove]

nightmares

“Don’t you ever come back here; you hear me? No one wants you here. Of course, you’re going to be alone forever. Get lost!”

Your eyes quickly darted upward in a state of panic. It was the middle of the night as you arose from your nightmare. Your entire body trembled, beads of sweat streaming down your temples.

You inhaled deeply, trying to control yourself but failed. Tears started flowing down your cheeks. Despite your efforts to wipe them away and sob quietly, your boyfriend would sense your discomfort even in his sleep.

“Baby?” His raspy voice sounded even deeper, tinted with sleep and concern. “Baby, are you crying?”

Jackson shot up and enveloped you in the tightest embrace known to mankind. “It’s fine. Go back to sleep, Sunni”, you sniffed heavily. “Are you kidding? It’s not fine. What’s wrong, y/n?” He hugged you even tighter and placed a safe kiss on your forehead. Being in Jackson’s embrace felt like a sweet relief, a place of salvation even. Having his strong arms around you made you feel safe; putting the horrors of your dreadful dream past you.

Jackson didn’t push – he himself knew how nerve-wracking it was to talk about your feelings. He never wanted to pressure you, but he had to make sure you knew he was there for you.

Almost inaudibly, he whispered softly: “I know talking about this is hard but bearing it all on your own is even harder. You can always lean on me, baby. I promise.”

“I had that dream again”, you mumbled against his broad chest. “The one with the bouncer?”

You smiled warmly. Even though this dream had haunted you for decades, you only talked about it once briefly – and Jackson remembered. Indeed, he was the most attentive man you had ever dated. Jackson possessed an innate ability to understand your actions, discern your emotions, and anticipate your needs. It felt as though the two of you shared a profound and intimate connection. Unbeknownst to you, he had become your steadfast support and sanctuary, your rock, and ultimately, your home.

You nodded your head.

This dream of yours wasn’t just an ordinary dream. It was a haunting memory that your brain kept replaying over the years.

“Do you want to tell me what you remember?”

By now your tears had stopped falling, but you were afraid they might come back any minute. As if he could read your mind Jackson patted your back and whispered softly: “I’ll dry your tears, baby. Don’t worry. You’re here with me, safe and sound. You can let it out. I got you, y/n.”

The situation was serious, yet you couldn’t help but chuckle. “Get out of my head, Wang”, you teased lovingly. Jackson assaulted your head with sweet, little kisses. “No way, babe. I plan on staying in there forever.”

Forever.

That word startled you, making you feel panicked again. “You’re going to be alone forever!” You took a deep breath and started to pour your heart out. “I know it’s stupid, but I can’t shake off that memory. I was out with friends, and we wanted to visit a club that we were too young for and the bouncer denied us access. We were a bit drunk, and he was a shitty dickhead or whatever but his words never left me.”

You paused.

Re-living that traumatic experience made you tear up. “What did he say exactly?” Jackson’s voice was full of compassion for you. “He said that we should get lost because no one wants us here. But then he said something to me specifically.” You felt Jackson’s thumb on your cheek, wiping away the salty tears. “He said that I’m going to be alone forever. And that hasn’t left me ever since.”

For a while you just laid there, not saying a word to each other. Jackson let go of you and turned on his side, now facing you directly. He took your fragile hand into his and drew small circles on it. “Baby, did you believe him?” You looked at him surprised. “Huh?”

“Do you think you’re having this nightmare over and over again because you believe it’s true? That he was right back then?”

You looked down, too ashamed to face him. Of course, you did. You were aware of the universe mirroring back your insecurities at you, but you weren’t ready to face them yet. Jackson’s eyes saddened even more as he realized that he had been right. His girlfriend, the love of his life, thought she was unlovable.

In the past, he might have been disheartened, internalizing a sense of failure for not making his girl feel loved. However, with time and personal growth from his own challenges, he gained wisdom. Though he loved you wholeheartedly, he now understood the importance of you recognizing your own inherent lovability.

“Baby? Can you look at me?”

You raised your head and looked at him, eyes glistening with a mixture of sadness and shame.

“Tell me, baby. What makes a person lovable?”

Caught off guard, you stumbled for words, failing to find any.

“What makes you lovable, baby? The way you look? Your body? Your pussy? Your job? Your IG followers? Tell me, baby.”

Putting it into words was hard but he was right. You always attached your worth and ability to be loved to something external. And when the external started to crumble, so did you.

“Do you think I love you for any of these things?”

You did which only made you feel worse. Jackson noticed the tears falling and put you right back into his strong embrace. “Oh baby, do you take me for the superficial kind?”

He placed another reassuring kiss on the crown of your head.

“Listen to me. You don’t have to say a single thing. Just listen. Can you do that, baby?” You nodded, gripping his shirt even harder.

“I don’t love you for any of that. Sure, it’s nice to have but that’s not what I fell in love with. I fell in love with your essence, with your whole being. I fell in love with how you care about me and the people you love. I fell in love with your positive outlook on life. I fell in love with the way you gush at dogs and run away from spiders. I love you for all that you are and all that you’re not. I’m sorry you took his words to heart back then, but he was wrong. You’re not going to be alone forever, because you got me. You are amazing, y/n. And lovable. God damn, baby, you are worthy of all the love in the world. I will love you even if your teeth fall out and your hair turns grey. I will love you even if you're broke and banned from social media. To me you’re not a body or an accomplishment – to me you are the most beautiful soul in this plane of existence. Got it?”

Tears of sadness turned into tears of joy – Jackson was saying all the things you needed to hear back then. Or needed to hear even more now. You looked up at him, eyes all puffy and red but still smiling. “I hate it when you cry but you kinda look like a cute red racoon while doing so, baby”, he laughed.

You joined in and shared this heartfelt moment with him. He pressed his forehead to yours and whispered softly: “I really mean what I said, y/n. I love you with all of my heart. So please try to do the same.”

[hevansent]

A little bit.

☆♡ ☆♡ ☆♡ ☆♡ ☆

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

(finally getting something out💀)

tom kaulitz x fem reader

context: you wonder if you’re ready for love again and you wonder if it could be him

warnings: p in v, confession, cussing?

☆♡

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Bored. Bored out of your mind. What were you supposed to do? In your mind, you embarrassingly had no friends. Not even a roommate. All alone in your apartment.

Though, there was one person. Tom Kaulitz. Could you even consider him your friend? It was a strange relationship.

Supposedly you two were just messing around. Sneaky links you could call it.

And you didn’t know much about this stuff, but Tom took much better care of you than shitty ex’s who gave you heartbreak after another. Were you even ready for a relationship?

Contrary to popular belief and public opinion, this boy was the sweetest and most caring you’ve ever met. Did you love him? The boy who snuck around only to fuck you? Or was there actually more to it?

Maybe you were just getting in your head. Loneliness and deprivation driving you to insanity. Pacing around your apartment, you stopped in to kitchen, sighing as you picked up the phone and dialed his number, hoping he wasn’t busy.

To your luck, his voice rasped a quiet ’hi’ on the other line. Your heart immediately picked up, your skin tingling.

“Sorry. Did I wake you?” Only now did you realize how late it was, giving yourself an upside down smile and putting a hand on your forehead.

“Yeah, but it’s okay. Do you need anything?” His voice was so sweet to you, satisfyingly smooth.

“Um.. Can you come over?” You childishly crossed your fingers, hoping he’d say yes. He always said yes to you, didn’t he?

“Mhm. I’ll be there soon, Prinzessin.” God, every time he called you that you felt like you could explode.

“Yeah, okay.” You smiled, hanging up the phone and placing it back in the holder.

You laid on the couch, all giddy like a schoolgirl as you waited for him to come over.

After an hour of waiting, there was a soft knock on the solid apartment door. If you weren’t so focused on him coming over you probably wouldn’t have heard.

You got up, heading over to the door as you attempted to settle your emotions. The door opened with a soft click and you smiled, admiring his perfect face for a second before moving out of the way.

“Hi, Prinzessin.” He wrapped his strong arms around you, his embrace comforting and warm against your chilled skin.

“Hi.” You muffled into his chest, breathing in his naturally sweet scent and closing your eyes.

The hug slowly parted and you took his hand, gently guiding him to your room as it was what you usually did.

He gently laid you down, crawling up your body and placing a soft kiss on your lips. You could already feel your body responding.

“I missed you.” He smiled softly against your lips, his hand gently caressing your waist.

Your eyes gently opened, searching his as you wondered. How did he miss you? Did he miss your body? Or did he miss YOU? The whole you. Was that something he knew?

“I miss you too.” And that was true. You missed every single thing about him. You wanted him. Not just the part of him between his legs. You wanted him as the man he was. All of him.

He brushed your hair out of your face with his fingers and kissed you again, deeper, more passion. You twirled his braids around your fingers, moaning softly as he made his way down your neck.

His large hand slipped under your shirt, cupping your breast and squeezing, nipple hardening at his touch.

Your breathing picked up and your body felt hot, ready for him to take your clothes off. You pulled on his shirt until it was off his body, tossing it somewhere in the room.

Your fingers traced his skin, able to feel him tense against them. You smiled, tilting his jaw up so you could kiss him again, hand snaking around to the back of his neck.

Being around him gave you a boost of confidence you were unaware you had, attractiveness radiating off of you all because of him. Maybe it was the way he worshipped you.

“I need you, Tom.” Your voice was suddenly silk, his name rolling of your tongue with ease and not a stutter even thought of.

“You can be patient, can’t you?” He raised an eyebrow, slowly teasing you through your shorts.

“No.” You whispered, your hands desperately trying to undo his belt. So, so needy.

He chuckled and shook his head, pushing your hands away and pulling you closer by your hips before pushing your thighs back.

You whimper, already imagining Tom inside you as he teased and played with you.

Finally, after what felt like forever he pulled shorts off, tilting his head when he found you wearing no panties.

A gasp emitted from your lips as he flipped you into your stomach, grabbing your hips and pulling them up as he toyed with your ass and slit.

“You’re such a slut, you know that?” He smacked your ass before gripping the flesh and pulling at it.

You moaned in response, arching your ass up in hopes of him finally giving you what you wanted.

And that he did, his belt clinking and the rest of his clothes piling on the floor.

Tom teased you once again, running his leaking tip up and down your slit, pushing just the head in before pulling out.

“Tom, please!” You whined, wiggling your ass back against him as you attempt to push yourself onto his cock.

“You’re a brat.” He chuckled and pushed inside, making you take every inch, stretching you out in the best way possible.

You moaned, hands digging into the sheets as you put your head down.

“You’re so perfect, baby. Feel s’good on me.” Tom spoke in short breaths, his voice rough.

“Mmmmph!” You mewled into the sheets, reaching back to hold onto him which he happily obliged, taking both your hands in his and pulling you back against him.

His cock was so deep inside you, your pussy so wet there was a soft squelch. He watches his cock move in and out, thrusting slow before picking up the pace again.

Moans and curses fell from both your mouths, your stomach getting tighter and tighter as your legs shook.

“Mm gonna cum, Tom!” Your back arch, stomach pushing into the mattress and his cock was hitting at the perfect angle.

“Me too, baby… Fuck, cum for me.” He groaned, his cock twitch as you clenched around him. That was all you needed to hear, crying out and painting his cock in your juices.

His moans were blurred as you rode your high, the spasms of your pussy quickly causing him to follow after you, filling you up with his sticky cum.

His thrust slowed down, feeling his warmness inside you. He slowly pulled out, watching his cum seep out of you as you both panted.

Tiredly, Tom laid beside you, pulling you into his arms and playing with your hair.

Soon the effects of your orgasm wore off and you were left to thinking again, thinking about him.

Did you love him? That would be ridiculous… But maybe you did. Just a little bit was okay, right?

You picked your head up, looking at his face. His eyes were closed but you know he was awake.

“Tom?” You whispered, tracing your fingers on his chest as you received a ‘hm?’ in response.

You had to do it. Just get it off your chest. It was better to than let it bottle up. What’s the worst that could happen?

“I think i love you…” You chewed your lip nervously, watching his face for a reaction.

His eyes opened, his expression undetermined as he gazed at you. But his eyes were soft and comforting, making you feel tingly.

“I love you too, Prinzessin…

[abyssalzones]

What's your comic writing process like? I'm starting to get into making my own comics and I really admire your work!!! Any advice?

Ah, intrepid traveler, you've done well to journey to this secluded mountaintop spire, in search of the answers you seek. I indeed can provide such forbidden comicmancy knowledge... at the cost of your mortal soul...

coughs. anyway, I'm going to warn you immediately that what works for me does not work for everyone else, and in my experience the way I do things can prove very slow and discouraging for anyone who is more interested in the actual "drawing the damn comic" part of the process. I only do it this way because I enjoy weaving a narrative web that feels not only fully contained but re-readable, but my projects are often so long and my memory so shitty that I can't just keep all of it in my head! It would spill all over the place and make a really embarrassing mess of brain-juice. Not ideal.

but as for my own process, uhh... I suppose a comic would be fitting, right?

a little choppy but you get the idea.

as for turning words into art, I've been experimenting with figuring out the best way to do that for a little while now. Originally what I was doing for something like Ad Astra Per Aspera was to take my "script" and sketch it out on paper very loosely, before transposing that onto my canvas and working from there:

...but, I've found that can make it kind of difficult to space everything around on your standard page-size, and the thing I'm having the most problems with currently seems to be finding the sweet spot of panel-size proportions. So, I've taken to printing out standard thumbnail templates (you can just find these on google) and sketching very tiny panels in those, which seems to give me a slightly better sense of scale... (mild chapter 5 spoilers, sorry ad astra fans)

but I have yet to totally pull through on this, so who knows, maybe I'll try something else in the future!

As for advice, this is probably most applicable to me, but as a disabled artist I have a very hard time managing my workload without literally working myself into injury. I don't think I talked about this publicly but when I was working on that ten year anniversary comic I was literally drawing every single day for 3 solid months. Sometimes, in my case, I really can't bring myself to stop once I've latched onto an idea, and sometimes I find the most rewarding thing I can do with my time is to draw- but I seriously cannot overstate: Do not fucking do this.

You will fuck up your wrist, your back, your neck, your eyes, and probably your mental health. It's a well-known fact that mangaka have a lower life expectancy than the average japanese person due to the intense workload imposed on them by deadlines and personal expectations. Comics are a very demanding artform, and even though I'm not on any sort of mandated schedule there are times where I've toiled away at something when I likely should have been exercising or taking vision-breaks. Therefore the best advice I can give you is to chill the hell out.

Namely, find parts of the process you can be lazy about, and embrace the laziness! You don't like digitally sketching? Don't do it! Skip it, or maybe find a way to traditionally sketch things out in advance like I do. Hate lineart? Don't fucking do it. You really don't feel like wasting your time writing 72k words of comic scripts? ...then, don't be like me. skip that part. I'm a flawed human being and what works for me might not work for you.

The second most important piece of advice I could give is to read comics. Of all kinds. The reason for this is pretty self explanatory: In order to figure out your own comic-making style, you should first pick out bits and pieces from the artist's buffet to add to your plate. Manga, graphic novels, american comics, european comics, weird niche little webcomics, funny papers, anything and everything. This advice rings true of pretty much any art form, but I find it to be essential to honing comic-making skills because so many things you feel will just come intuitively often don't. and that's okay! nobody is born knowing how to leave space for speech bubbles or shape their panels in a way that imitates stretches of time. The best way to figure out stuff like this, in my experience, is to study the "masters", and then after becoming well accustomed to the basics, figure out what rules you want to bend or break to create your own style.

I consider myself to be in equal parts a writer and an artist, which lends itself well to making narrative comics, but maybe you're a bit more of an artist and want to focus on panel-by-panel visual storytelling. Or, conversely, maybe your talents lean closer towards writing, and the art itself is more of a secondary skill. Regardless of your unique blend of talents you can and should make a comic, you should just also be aware of your strengths and try to hone in on those- there will always be opportunities to build up skills you lack, but focusing on what you do best will always lead you in the right direction.

Anyway, that being said, here are some recommendations in no particular order:

Monster, Naoki Urasawa (!!)

Bone, Jeff Smith

Witch Hat Atelier, Kamome Shirahama

The first IDW run of Transformers comics (namely More Than Meets the Eye and Lost Light)

Persepolis, Marjane Satrapi (!!)

Through the Woods, Emily Carroll (really any Emily Carroll comics)

Kill Six Billion Demons (webcomic) (!!)

Akira, Katsuhiro Otomo

The Third Person, Emma Grove

Tintin, Hergé (can be super racist please be wary)

Dungeon Meshi, Ryoko Kui

Calvin & Hobbes, Bill Watterson

Maus, Art Spiegelman

Cucumber Quest (webcomic)

Jellyfish Princess, Akiko Higashimura

Golden Kamuy, Satoru Noda (!!)

Note that I did not grow up with manga so I am seriously behind on a lot of extremely influential japanese comics such as Dragon Ball, One Piece, basically any of the original Shonen Jump comics, but they're widely considered building blocks of the genre so if you love the artform I think you should give them a try! Same goes for classic non-shonen manga genres like various Shoujo, Josei, Yuri, Gekiga, ETC.

same as above applies to a lot of classic DC and Marvel works, I unfortunately am just not a big fan of superhero comics... but I'm sure there's good stuff in there. a couple of my mutuals talk about booster gold and the blue beetle all the time so I'm assuming there has to be something worthwhile.

...and many, many, many more that I'm forgetting! I noticed as I made this list that, to my knowledge, hardly any of these are made by black or just non-japanese-mangaka BIPOC artists, which makes me sad about the gaps in my own comic collection. Therefore, anyone is welcome to add their own recommendations in the replies!

now go forth, and combine images with text!!!!!!!!!!!

[grlbutnotwood]

hello my children I've come bearing treats, eat up

(I wrote a little fake dating hurt/comfort ficlet about mulder and scully posing as a married couple because I had a shitty week)

Many people are certain that the living room is the heart of the house.

Many people, statistically speaking, are also idiots.

The white modest two-story house in this sleepy neighbourhood would actively disagree - if it was capable of communication, that is. It had seen a lot of things, experienced in a way that felt like a warm embrace, a gentle presence in the sunlit beige walls.

1954. Sarah and Ben recieved a phone call on that kitchen - their granddaughter was born. Sarah at the sink dropped the glass she was washing, Ben standing beside her cried for the first time in six years (and no, crying over soap operas doesn't count if it's at night and no one sees it).

1967. James cried in his wife's arms as wave after wave of grief came over him. He'd lost his brother years ago, and yet it never really goes away, does it? The night started with them going through the photoalbums over tea and ended with Josie on kneeling at her husband's chair, stroking his hair as he shook silently on her shoulder.

1978. Leslie and Dot, both culinary school graduates, competed over who makes better dinner. To their neighbours, outside, they were best friends that were going through a rough time together. But on that kitchen, affection was easily given, kisses on cheeks, smiles so wide it hurt and dirty jokes that would have gotten them kicked out of town. The only place they could be truly what they are.

And now. Dana and Fox. Or what was that they called themselves? Doesn't really matter. They weren't there to settle somewhere normal, nondescript - rather they were there exactly because of everything wrong with it, just blowing through like a particularly awkward hurricane.

"One more comment about the weather and I'm shooting myself in the face," Scully let out a harsh breath, massaging her temples as she leaned her elbows on the counter just next to the sink. The commotion of the housewarming party melted away as the door to the kitchen was shut, soft footsteps approaching her.

Slender frame of one Fox Mulder leaned on the kitchen counter inches from her, the familiarity of his cologne and enveloping soothing presence like a balm to her fried nerves.

"I would strongly advice you not do that," his voice was low and teasing, his shoulder bumping into hers. "That face is too pretty to be wasted."

"Not your best one."

"Not the worst one either."

"True," she nodded and turned to face him, looking up at him - all bloodshot tired eyes and pale face. "You know, at one point I thought I might want all of this, suburban routine, three kids and a dog, the whole package. But now I honestly feel..."

"Dishonest? Jaded? Worn out? Out of place?" Mulder supplied, not without sympathy even with a corner of his mouth quirked up in a teasing smirk.

"Fucking done," Scully countered, watching as Mulder's smirk grew into a full-on smile as if watching the sun rise. But really, hearing Scully swear was a treat.

They stood there for a moment, oblivious to the happenings of the outside world, behind this door. The air smelled of herbal tea with orange peels, lasagna and a faint whiff of cleaning products, the only source of light - the dim lamp over the sink and the street lamps outside. Scully's hair caught gold and copper, so unbearably soft in her white t-shirt and with her cheek on her fist, the golden wedding band gleaming in the warm glow of the kitchen light.

It was so easy to pretend it was his.

"Hold still," he murmured, moving ever so closely. Scully, frowning now and yet obedient, stood still as Mulder tapped the skin beneath her eye. "You have an eyelash."

And as he took his hand away to let her see it, say something cheesy about making a wish, and of course, of course - she snorted rather loudly, predicting the sickly-sweet sentiment and ruining it completely as the eyelash fell away.

"Oh man, you didn't make a wish," he whined dramatically while Scully giggled into her palm as the music drifted from the half-opened window.

This kitchen knew love, not in the rings and vows and traditionally romantic rituals, those barely mattered.

It was in shared time and bumped shoulders, secretive smiles and affectionate "haha fuck you". A dropped eyelash and a giggle.

It would still be a long time before those two realized it. But then again, statistically, most people are idiots.

[love-byers]

Hi!! I binge-read some of your byler analysis, along with other users', and I can't help but STILL feel on the fence about hoping for byler endgame. I guess I just don't want to get my hopes super high only for them to be crushed by whatever CGI fest the düff3rs got in store to "go out with a bang" (while, obvs, sticking to the status quo and what they think the GA wants to see). I've seen so many intelligent people write media criticism pieces and analysis in support of the ship, but I still dread that the writers cry plausible deniability on all the clues they DID lay, that the people behind the N*f1ix social media accs confess that they've willingly posted queerbait to boost their engagement and thus get a bigger paycheck (I wouldn't blame them if they did, obvs; besides, it still means that some higher-up approved those misleading posts) and, worst of all, that this whole thing may end up blowing up negatively like the JohnLock conspiracy or the Voltron shenanigans or, y'know, the Supernatural fandom after Castiel's introduction and up until that lame ass final season. In your opinion, what makes byler different? Is there real hope for a satisfying mlm relationship from a show made by het men that capitalizes on 80s nerd culture nostalgia?

Sorry for coming off so jaded: I do wish for a byler ending, but it's been hard to keep my hopes aflame against these worries :c

i think everyone has some amount of doubt, which is totally understandable.

lgbt representation has come a long way, but a lot of us fans who are a bit older grew up consuming media that either had no representation or shitty representation. we sought ourselves in the media we loved and never found it, and corporations exploited that. nowadays there's way more representation that isn't left up to interpretation or censored, but a lot of the time that's in shows that are about romance and drama, high school a lot of the time. which is great, but stranger things is a sci fi show with romantic sub plots. it's easy for queer characters to end up being left out of a show like ST, but they haven't been at all.

one of the big messages of ST is embracing weirdness and being different. loving whatever it is you love, unashamed. when a character strays from being their true self or pushes away the things they love, there are consequences for the character. they become less likable to the audience. the entire theme of s4 is living in the truth, not hiding things, embracing love, being misunderstood simply because you're different. all of that is very queer coded. and it happens to be the season where will's love for mike fully comes into light.

there has been so much thought put into stranger things. the duffers have said there are no coincidences. they put thought into everything, thats why it takes so long to make a season, because they care so much. there are endless details i could point out not related to romance. they've also said they've been set on the ending for a while and will not be changing it to please people. i believe they said some people might not like the ending, but they don't care because they're making the story THEY want. which so far has uplifted queer people and promoted being different. so some antis may call be stupid for trusting them, but im choosing to. i believe they'll do these characters justice.

and my favorite quote from them is "The best plot twists don't make the audience say "wow I never saw that coming!", it makes you say "I should have seen that coming."

as a writer and a creative writing major, i definitely look up to the writers of ST. they are all incredibly talented and i hope one day i can put this much thought and love into a project. and, as a writer, i cannot see them throwing mike and will's relationship down the drain.

so, what makes byler different? there's very few shows where this much thought is put into everything. its not debatable that they do that, they've said it and its evident if you watch the show. so i refuse to believe all of these things between mike and will are just coincidences or accidents. there's just no possible way. i definitely had a klance phase and i can confidently say voltron writing is nowhere near the level of ST, and neither is supernatural. supernatural is one of those shows that has a lot of seasons and has gone all over the place in terms of writing and plot. the duffers have known the ending to this story since season 1. and unlike those shows with lots of seasons, ST only has 5. it won't be dragged on and beaten like a dead horse like some shows.

you don't have to completely eliminate your doubt. even i have doubt even after all i've said and posted. there is simply no way to confirm what'll happen before s5 releases, and they want it that way. just hold on until s5 friend

[k-odyssey]

Wedding Impossible | ep 7-8

It's been a while since I've watched a drama where a kiss makes me physically feel something. This one definitely did. And it had everything to do with the build-up.

You have Ji Han, who's been going through all five stages of grief re:his unwanted but very real feelings for his future sister-in-law. Invoking god and buddha. Folding paper cranes. Anything to stop feeling like a shitty brother.

And then the tables turn. He's told about Do Han's secret. Suddenly his hyung is in the wrong. Not because he's into boys but because it looks like he's using Ah Jeong. Everything is fair game now, as long as he can protect her.

Ah Jeong has also been busy crushing her feelings, after Ji Han's denial. She showed her vulnerable side, half-admitting that she liked him, and he shot her down.

She's a good actress but there's a difference between playing a role on screen/on stage, and turning your life into a web of lies. She's miserable, especially looking at her parents.

So we have repressed feelings on both sides. And the kind of exhaustion that comes from telling lies all day to keep up appearances. They even admitted that to each other on the set.

Ji Han finally decides to be honest, with himself and with Ah Jeong. About his own feelings anyway. Even if he has an ulterior motive for telling her then, he's finally saying something true. And she is broken and mad. Because she's been working so hard at keeping up the lie. She made a promise too.

But once the truth of his feelings is out, she can hardly pretend they aren't mutual and kisses him. And honestly, some of the best fictional kisses come after a big conflict. It has meaning. They're bridging that gap. They're embracing this love, in spite of it all.

Other things I enjoyed ep 8:

the choice of having no soundtrack during the important scenes (the brothers' fight, the confession). honestly a badly-timed song can easily ruin a build-up.

they both seem a little startled at the reciprocation. like "oh so you do like me."

Ah Jeong's interlude on set where she remembers who she is for a while. How Ji Han is a genuine fan of hers.

What Ji Han told the ex.

Ji Han kept calling Do Han selfish but I hope he takes some of that back later. I know it was mostly cuz he thinks Ah Jeong is being used. But he's also hurt at the lack of trust and I mean, it's hardly easy to come out in a conservative society. There was no guarantee that Ji Han would be accepting. Though it's disconcerting that he never tries to gage Ji Han's feelings. Could be as easy as watching a movie with secondary gay characters in it? To see if he reacts? Idk.

I'm conflicted. We'll see how that goes.

It's kind of funny to think how bad Ji Han and Ah Jeong will look from the outside. Though I'm sure she'd take the worst of the remarks. But considering she's only leaving a fake relationship for a real one, and he's only admitting to liking her cuz he knows his brother's gay, the gossip will be BAD. And there's really no easy way to fix that. Only live with it or Do Han comes out publicly.

Ji Han will be hurt when he realizes what was really happening tho (the contract). Not looking forward to this conversation.

Hope their little trip to escape reality next week won't mess up with the pacing. Should be fun to watch tho!

Edit: just fixed the episode numbers, oops.