#sorry my art hasn’t been as rendered recently

[voiddrawss]

Spoilers for Chaos; Child. {fanart}

Di-Sword

I TOLD YOU GUYS I WOULD DRAW TAKURU

[alj4890]

All Through The Night

A Choices: The Royal Romance Dark AU fanfiction. 

A/N Other than my few Bloodbound shorts, I’ve never written anything with supernatural overtones before. After receiving requests to see Liam and Riley’s story if he was a vampire, this storyline was born. Since it is set in one of my favorite books from Pixelberry, I had to include as many of the main and supporting characters as I could. The following chapters will explain more where they and what our main characters are. Not going to lie, I am very anxious to step out of my comfort zone for this, but I’m also super excited to see how it goes. Along with The Royal Romance, I will be referencing and altering both The Crown and The Flame and The Royal Masquerade.

@gkittylove99​​ @krsnlove​ @kingliam2019​ @texaskitten30​ @yourmajesty09​ @mom2000aggie​ @ofpixelsandscribbles​ @twinkleallnight​ @lodberg​ @twinkleallnight​ @amandablink​ @neotericthemis​  @mm2305​ @sfb123​ @iufilms​​ ​ ​

Masterlist

Prologue

Once upon a time...

"Father!" Zenobia rushed down the stairwell. "Kenna is at the gates!"

King Luthor's frown deepened as he studied the places his troops had been destroyed. His hope to unite the five kingdoms and wipe off the abomination was for naught.

Kenna would not stop until he and his surviving offspring's heads were on pikes.

...until their blood filled the crystal goblets of the Dark Queen.

"What do we do?" His son, Diavolos, asked.

Luthor knew it was only himself Kenna wanted. After he had killed her mother, hoping to stop the monsters once and for all, Kenna would have her revenge.

If only he had known that she was a vampire...just like her mother.

"Listen carefully." His voice trembled at this possibly being the last time he was able to speak to his son and daughter. "A Nevarkis must always be ready to fight the creatures that prey on the weak and vulnerable."

"But..." Zenobia sniffed. "How? How can we possibly kill the unkillable?"

"She can be killed just like her mother before her." Luthor snapped. "Sunlight. A dagger to the heart. Cutting the head off." His features hardened with resolve. "Know that those are our true allies. Continue your training with daggers. Never stop being vigilant. Educate your children. And remember: where there's one vampire, many more lie in wait in the shadows."

Diavolos stepped forward and gripped his father's shoulder. "We will fight for you."

"No." Luthor corrected. "Fight for our people. The innocent. Fight for a chance to live without fear of monsters."

He cleared his throat. "If I should die--"

"Don't say that!" Zenobia screeched. "We'll be--"

"Kenna is coming for me." Luthor interrupted. "I know I must face the consequences of my actions."

"But--" Divalos lowered his head. "What are we to do?"

"Kill her." Luthor ordered. "Let your emotion be your strength." He took their hands. "And remember that a vampire is nature's evil incarnate. They will do whatever they want and kill anyone who they think is in their way." His voice turned to pleading. "Kill Kenna before she has a chance to kill you."

Zenobia nodded in a jerky manner. Diavolos swallowed with tears in his eyes.

"Good. Now prepare yourselves." Luthor pulled his sword from its sheath. "The devil herself is here."

*****************

Two years later...

Kenna cuddled her infant son, humming a lullaby.

Dom came in, a soft smile gracing his lips at the sight of his family.

"How are we this evening?" He asked, placing a kiss first on her lips then one on his son's forehead.

"A little fussy." Kenna explained. "But otherwise perfect."

"Good." Dom stretched then went to stoke the fire. "I will be going out later tonight."

Kenna's head jerked up. "Why? Are there more rumors?"

He nodded, a determined frown formed on his lips. "The Nevarkis brats refuse to let us live in peace." He moved to stand before the window that looked out toward the kingdom he had once lived in.

High in the mountains, the couple and those like them had found sanctuary. They built a kingdom, one of darkness and shadow that allowed them to live freely. He and Kenna were crowned the rulers, chosen by their people...those that were cursed as monsters.

"Si and I will be standing guard." He explained. "I will not risk you or our child."

"Dom..." Kenna pulled him close, capturing his lips in a long tender kiss. "This must end. I was foolish to let my need for revenge take over." Tears sparkled in her eyes. "Luthor might have left us alone if I had given him a chance."

Dom's face contorted into furious hatred. "A Nevarkis can never be trusted!" He gripped her waist, hands heating as he lost his temper. "He would have plunged a dagger into your heart the first chance he had."

"Dom." She said softly when he singed her clothes.

He wrenched his hands from her with a grimace. "I didn't burn you, did I?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine." She tried to lighten the mood. "Just a little overheated."

He took deep breaths to get himself under control. "Stay here where it is safe." His eyes searched hers. "Have you fed recently?"

"No, but I should be fine until you return." Kenna lifted a bottle with blood for their son. "I can call on one of the servants to help me if I need to."

"Promise me you won't go outside." He pleaded.

"Only if you promise to come back to me." She responded.

His lips quirked in that cocky smile she has always adored.

"Always, my queen." He kissed her once more, then slipped out the door to search out their enemies.

******************

Present Day New York...

"Cordonia...land of both beauty and mystery." Riley wrinkled her nose. "Boring."

"No, it isn't." Hana argued. "I think that is the perfect beginning."

"Look at the comments from our last video." Riley swiveled her laptop so her friend could see. "People love our walkthroughs and all but hate my narration."

"Well..." Hana's brow furrowed. "Maybe we should try to add more to it than just narration." She pulled out some sketches. "We could add some animation of the history before showing our footage of the country."

"That might work." Riley mumbled, tapping her pen against her notebook.

The two set to work planning their next project.

After years of trying, they had finally achieved their dream of traveling for a living. The two college friends had taken every class they could on how to make their hopes into a reality. With Riley's love of history and business and Hana's talent with art and fashion, the pair had created a successful travel channel that showcased rarely visited countries and cities around the world.

Hana took care of all the shopping and dining found at their chosen destinations. Her "day trips" were hailed as must see for anyone planning a vacation. Riley took over for what could be found at night. Myths and legends blended in with what could be discovered once the sun set. A place's nightlife was thoroughly researched and reached a wide variety of their audience, causing many to plan a vacation just on her recommendations alone.

"Did your mom suggest where we should go first?" Riley asked, after skimming the same few articles about the elusive country.

"Not really." Hana hedged.

Riley glanced up. "Is she giving you a hard time again?"

"Yes." Hana slumped in her chair. "She told me to call when I was done playing tour guide."

"Geez." Riley grumbled. "Does she not realize that we have created a legit business?"

"Ladies shouldn't be involved in anything that does not pertain to their husband and family." Hana quoted. "I was supposed to have my debut to Cordonian society last year." Angry tears filled her eyes. "She still hasn't forgiven me for missing out on the Masquerade Ball."

Riley wrapped her in a comforting hug. "I'm sorry."

Hana patted her back. "Don't be. I finally feel like I can accomplish anything."

"That's because you can." Riley sat back with a grin. "Especially with planning out what we should focus on first."

Hana giggled as she went to search out some of her old books she had inherited from her grandparents. "These might help you with your part."

Riley's eyebrows lifted over the titles. "The Crown, the Flame, and The Night Queen."

"That is the earliest recorded story of vampires and monsters in Cordonia." Hana explained. "Queen Kenna Rhys and King Luthor Nevarkis both fought over uniting the kingdoms that make up Cordonia." She shook her head in disbelief. "There is a legend that Queen Kenna was a vampire that married a man who could transform into a dragon."

"For real?" Riley eagerly opened the book. "What happened?"

"Luthor died." Hana reached for another history book. "Some say it was a sword fight while others say she ripped his throat out with her fangs."

"Whoa. Either way, she sounds pretty epic."

"His son got revenge though." Hana flipped to another chapter. "He sneaked in one day and supposedly dragged Kenna into the sunlight. Before her husband could save her, she burned to ash."

"Brutal." Riley shivered. "What did the dragon do?"

Hana shrugged. "Supposedly he left with their child to protect him." She pointed at some drawings rendered from the Dark Ages. "Kenna's son came back to extract revenge. He eliminated one entire side of the Nevarkis family tree."

"And let me guess," Riley picked up another book. "The remaining Nevarkis's struck back?"

"It's supposedly been a feud for centuries between the Nevarkis and the Rhys' families." Hana pulled up an image on her phone. "Though one is currently ruling Cordonia."

Riley studied the image. "Queen Olivia Nevarkis. Looks like the Rhys lost the throne."

Hana shrugged. "There's a myth that they still rule Cordonia from the shadows."

"Mythical royal vampires, huh?" Riley laughed at the thought. "I hope I bump into one just so I can figure out who's really in charge."

Hana giggled at the thought. "You would be the only person to ask a logical, government question instead of the usual, whoa you're a real live vampire!"

Riley threw a pillow at her. "Hey! I can be calm and collected when faced with the unknown."

Hana threw the pillow back. "Tell that to the supposed haunted house we visited on our last trip." She broke out into laughter with Riley's defense that squeaking doors were the true villains. "On that note, I'm going to start packing. Our flight leaves first thing in the morning."

"I'll be ready." Riley promised.

Once alone, she flipped to a more current timeline of the supposed Dark Kingdom.

King Constantine Rhys the Third rules over what is his rightful kingdom. Rumors swirl that he is simply biding his time until he can eliminate the usurper, Queen Olivia Nevarkis, First of Her Name. The people know that one day, a Rhys will sit upon the throne, uniting the Dark Kingdom and Cordonia once and for all.

****************

Cordonia's Royal Palace, 2 a.m.

"Heeeerah! Olivia threw her daggers as hard as she could while doing a roundhouse kick.

The blades struck into the chest, head, and groin of the makeshift dummy.

She brushed the few strands of red hair that had escaped her hair clip out of her eyes. With a great deal of scrutiny, she studied her dagger placement.

"The one to the head needs to go deeper."

She spun around with a start at that all too familiar voice.

"You're late." She folded her arms and tapped her foot.

Liam rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry. Had to stop off for a quick bite."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "That's not funny."

"Not that kind of bite." He teased, holding up a styrofoam box.

"Oh." She blinked in surprise. "I forget that you enjoy normal food too."

He chuckled at that. "There are certain foods that I don't think any man could ever give up."

Olivia decided to ignore that as she wiped the sweat from her face and neck. "Now that you're here, let's get the formalities over with."

"Very well." Liam gestured toward her. "You may go first."

She sat down on a bench lining one side of the palace gym. She motioned for him to join her.

"Not you!" She hissed when she saw his all too familiar guard.

Drake Walker bristled at her tone. His brown eyes clashed with her green.

"Give us a moment, please." Liam asked him.

"Don't let your guard down." Drake warned. "Remember, she's a Nevarkis."

Olivia tensed. "Perhaps you should remember what happened the last time you said something like that."

She quirked one eyebrow at the man and felt a sense of glee when he winced in memory.

His hand automatically drifted to his side where one of her daggers had once struck true.

With a quick bow to Liam, Drake stepped back out into the hallway.

Liam shook his head. "Are you two ever going to get along?"

"Stop talking stupid." Olivia snapped. "Now then, as you know...I must have my revenge."

"I know." Liam folded his arms and leaned casually against a column.

She eyed him for any sign of hatred.

It drove her crazy how unvampiric he could be.

He seemed almost human.

He seemed...kind.

A vampire is nature's evil incarnate. You can never trust a Rhys.

Those words had been drummed into her skull by her parents and then her aunt after their deaths by Constantine's hand.

And yet...Liam had done the unthinkable.

He had actually been a friend to Olivia.

*************

The night after her parents' funeral, five year old Olivia had been sitting alone before the fireplace, weeping over them.

Her aunt had left her to deal with her own grief and to plan the next attack upon Constantine.

As she searched for a tissue, Olivia jumped back with a shriek at the little blonde haired boy that held the Kleenex box.

His eyes were filled with unshed tears as he handed her a tissue.

"Who are you?" She asked, remembering that a Nevarkis must always be brave.

"I'm Liam." He explained. "I wanted to...I wanted to tell you I'm sorry about your parents." He sniffed and took a tissue for himself. "My mom died too."

Olivia blinked and took a cautious step forward. "Are you...are you a vampire?!"

He nodded.

She whipped out the dagger her mother had given her and rushed at him.

Liam moved faster than she could comprehend, gently keeping her hand above her head.

"Let go of me, monster!" She ordered. "You're why I'm all alone!"

"I didn't do anything." He told her, anguish taking over his handsome features. "I don't want to hurt you or anyone."

"Liar!" She snapped. "That's what you do. Lie and kill." Her tears ran faster down her cheeks. "And now you'll kill me."

"I won't." He promised. "I swear I won't hurt you." He ignored his own tears trickling down his cheeks. His blue eyes burned with resolve. "My mother made me promise never to hurt a human."

Olivia shook her head. It had to be lies. Isn't that what vampires and monsters do? Lull you into letting your guard down so that they could have an easy kill.

"Your father will pay for what he did." She said, hoping to see his true, evil nature. "He must die!"

"I know." Liam slowly released her and took a step back.

Olivia watched in surprise as he sat down before her fireplace and pulled out a silk blue ribbon from his pocket.

He motioned for her to join him.

She slowly lowered herself down, dagger poised in her little fist in case he made a move.

"May I have your hand, please?" He asked.

He patiently waited on her to decide whether or not to give it to him.

She tentatively placed her hand in his.

His lips turned up into a relieved smile as he wrapped the ribbon over their joined hands.

"What are you doing?" She asked, lowering her dagger.

"Making a bond." He explained. "I, Liam Rhys, Crown Prince of the Dark Kingdom, promise to never seek out revenge and to end all vendettas against the Nevarkis family." His blue eyes held her green. "Just as my mother, Queen Eleanor wanted me to."

Oliva's lips parted. "You mean it?"

"I do." Liam's voice held a great deal of sincerity. "I would rather walk into the sun than not do as she asked."

"Oh." Olivia sniffed. She could understand that kind of devotion.

"Do you," Liam's cheeks colored. "Do you think we can be allies?"

"A Nevarkis will never be friends with a monster." She repeated the rhetoric that she knew by heart.

"But," Liam's shoulders slumped. "We're not all bad."

"All monsters are bad at heart."

"I'm not." He pouted. "I don't want to be."

"You're so weird." She muttered.

"Am not." Liam grumbled. "I hope I'm not."

Olivia looked down at their hands still bound together. "I guess since you promised something, I should too."

He didn't bother to hide his surprise.

She stuck her tongue out at him. "I, Olivia Nevarkis, The Crown Princess of Cordonia, swear that after I kill Constantine Rhys, I will lay down my weapons." Her brow furrowed. "I'll pick them back up though if you or any other monster tries anything."

Liam's smile grew. Before she could react, he tugged her into a quick hug.

"Now we can be friends!" He cheered.

"Friends?" She shook her head. "I'm a Nevarkis and you're a Rhys. We can't be friends."

"We will be." He vowed, jumping to his feet. "I have to go before Father finds out I've sneaked out. I'll try to come back in a few nights."

Olivia didn't have a chance to tell him whether or not she wanted him to. In the blink of an eye, he had jumped from her balcony and was already out the palace gates.

*****************

That had been the beginning of Liam's visits. Through the years, he had remained true to his promise. He did all he could to befriend her and never tried to sway her from seeking vengeance.

Olivia had once asked him how he could take her threat against his father so easily.

He had merely shrugged, explaining that he knew it was the way of things. His father had killed both her parents, while he had only lost one. He hoped she didn't since he did not wish to see his father or her dead.

Olivia had then told him again how weird he was, bringing another smile to his lips.

And now here he was again, calmly taking her promised vengeance well.

"So what business brings you here tonight?" She asked.

"Father thinks it is time I chose a wife." Liam responded. "I thought you should know that I will be spending more time in your kingdom to find one."

Olivia shot up off the bench. "What? But you promised to never hurt a human!"

"And I will keep true to that." He explained.

"But..." Olivia's brow furrowed. "You'll turn her into a vampire."

"Only if she wishes it." Liam explained. "I won't force her to make such a decision."

"I see." She began to pace while thinking. "You'll have vampire children."

"Only if she's a vampire." He reminded her. "Remember my brother."

Olivia paused. She had forgotten about Leo Rhys, The Great Disappointment of the Dark Kingdom. His mother had begged Constantine not to turn her. It had never been asked before, and in his mercy he had agreed. That was when they all discovered that a monster and a human could only produce a human child. In order for the heir to the Dark Kingdom to be a vampire, both parents had to be the same being.

"And you'll be fine having human children?" She asked. "If you're chosen bride refuses the Vampire's Kiss?"

"Of course." He responded.

"Lord, you're so weird." She muttered.

His smirk flashed. "Let's hope the woman I choose doesn't think so."

"Are there no women in your kingdom you can choose from?" She asked.

"I've looked." He shook his head. "It's hard to explain, but if one doesn't have an arranged marriage, then we must search until we see the one meant for us."

"And you somehow got weirder." She brushed her hands down her pants and held one out to him. "Good luck, I suppose."

"Thank you." He grasped her hand and lifted it to his lips. "I'll keep you updated on my progress."

"There's no need."

"Of course there is." He winked at her on his way out. "We're friends."

Her lips parted to once again remind him that they couldn't be. For some reason, she decided not to say it.

Liam had somehow wormed his way into her life and had become the closest friend she had ever had.

********************

The Lee Residence, Shanghai, China...

Lorelei paled as she reread the report. 

It can’t be. Not Now!

Of all the times for this to happen, it would be when her stubborn, foolish daughter decided to visit. 

Given the nature of her relationship with Hana, she knew that there was no way she could convince her to postpone her trip to Cordonia. 

There was only one course of action left to take. She would have to call the one man who was capable of protecting her daughter. She would promise hiim anything as long as he kept Hana out of Liam’s clutches. As much as wanted her to give up this ridiculous hobby she called a job and settled down with the right sort of man, she would never put her in the path of becoming the next vampire queen. 

Setting down the packet of information from one of her informants, she checked to make certain no servant was out in the hallway and then searched for the needed phone number.

Taking a deep breath, she placed the call.

Her trepidation grew when he didn’t immediately answer.

"Hello."

"Lord Beaumont?" 

"Yes." She could hear a door closing in the background. "Who is this?"

"Lorelei Lee." She replied.

"Lady Lorelei." He responded with a recognition. "How can I help you?"

"My daughter and her friend have got it in their heads to come visit Cordonia." She began. "I'm not certain how long they intend to stay, but I was hoping that I could retain your services."

"For what exactly?" Lord Beaumont asked.

"Protection." She replied. "I have heard through certain channels that the dark prince is beginning to search for a bride." She took a deep breath. "We do NOT want our daughter anywhere near that vile creature."

"I understand." He replied. "I usually don't do personal security. With my brother, Bertrand, retired," he hesitated, "it is left up to me to help protect Cordonia's borders."

"My husband and I would be in your debt if you could watch over her in the evenings." Lorelei cajoled. "I've heard that your brother is planning on extending his vineyards. We would be more than happy to invest in the production and distribution of his sparkling wine. Perhaps even let it be the only sparkling wine we serve in our hotels."

"Send me her information and picture. Call her and tell her that since our family is an old friend of yours, that I've volunteered to show them around. Find out where she's staying and when she plans on arriving."

"Oh thank you, my lord. We--"

"I'll also need a contract prepared and signed for all that you offered." He added.

"Yes of course. I'll get everything to you at once." She promised.

Once he ended the call, she sank back down onto her chair. 

She bowed her head and began to pray that her daughter came to no harm these next few weeks. To lose Hana to one of the many creatures that roamed the night in Cordonia was too horrible to even contemplate.

If anyone could keep her daughter safe then it was none other than Lord Maxwell Beaumont.

[uhgood-dooghu]

Dichotomy [M]

Author uhgood-dooghu

Pairing Underground Fighter!Namjoon x Reader

Summary He doesn’t want this life. But it’s the hand he’s been dealt. He is falling, but you are his safety net.

Genre Smut, angst, fluff, marriage!au, very loosely inspired by the film Southpaw, porn with a splash of plot

Warnings Unprotected marital sex, nipple play, nipple orgasm, oral (male and brief female), consensual possessiveness, Namjoon has tattoos, mentions of violence, lots of love, lots of angst, some cracky fluff if you squint, they’re very in love, they have a kid, they’re dealing with a lot of shit

Word Count 4.1k

a/n Banner by @xjoonchildx​ who singlehandedly gave me more confidence in my writing in 10 minutes than anyone has given me in like...10 years (so yeah, not to be dramatic but I kind of love you 🙈)

Dichotomy . . Trouvaille . . Redemancy

Cross-posted to AO3

“You still up for me, tiger?”

From his spot reclined against the pillows, Namjoon cocks his head, tired eyes narrowing into a smirk when he finds you leaning against the closet door frame. Sky blue silk hangs loosely off your shoulder, revealing the sheer bodysuit gracing your curves. You quirk an eyebrow and grin as your husband’s darkened eyes roam your body and linger on the deep v between your breasts, cream tulle contoured seamlessly to your hardened nipples. With a lick of his lips, he folds his arms behind his head.

“I don’t know, baby. Why don’t you come find out?”

His smirk never wavers as you push off the frame and saunter towards him, a quick shrug pooling your robe around your elbows.

You pause at the edge of the bed to admire the sight of him laid out in nothing but his ink and black boxer-briefs. Unable to resist, your eyes wander, tracing the swell of his biceps, the cut of his chest, the sharp lines of his hips, before you drop your robe to the floor. Namjoon’s lips nearly twitch into a snarl when you throw a leg over his lap, sitting back on his taut thighs with a sigh.

Your hands run over his chiseled torso to feel the uneven flesh beneath your fingertips. Years of training, of fights both won and lost, of facing opponents with a lust for blood, have hardened him, left a mosaic of scars in their wake to mark and maim the bronze canvas. He hides them behind a mural of art. Blots out the ever-present reminders of the choices he’s made in a storm of black and grey.

He is ashamed.

But to you, he is beautiful.

His hands find your thighs, the cool metal of his wedding band digging into your skin as you bend and press your lips to a line of raised flesh blanketed by the curves of a whale below his collarbone. You kiss the length of the scar, his body a map you’ve long since memorized. When you flick over his nipples, he hums, and you trail the column of his throat with your nose before nipping the underside of his jaw.

He is tense beneath your lips, but he always is, carrying his burdens on broken bones.

Cupping his face, you capture his lips with yours, tongues falling into a seamless dance as his hands begin to wander. They slip to your ass, palming the flesh, and you break away with a hum as he rocks you against his semi-hard cock.

“You feeling ok?” Your eyes lock on the deep cut slowly healing on his brow bone. A parting gift from his most recent opponent.

The sight isn’t foreign, but you always ask.

Leaning in, he drags his lips over your pulse. “Never better.”

With a click of your tongue, you tug him back and frown. He grunts in displeasure, but allows you to thumb over the faded bruise on his cheekbone and the fresh scar on his lip, his eyes following yours as they take in his slightly crooked nose and sunken dark circles.

He’s not ok, a fact you both know. He hasn’t slept much since his last match, a brutal victory against a vengeful competitor. That night, you had nursed his wounds with steady hands, whispered words of reassurance into his ear, stripped his emotions bare until he was sobbing into your chest.

He’s not a monster. He’s not evil. He’s just surviving. But barely. And that’s why you always ask.

“I’ll be alright, baby,” he mutters, gripping your wrist and gently pulling it from his face. He laces your fingers together and kisses the back of your hand softly. “Don’t worry about me.”

Your lips twist into a thin smile. “I always worry about you.”

For a moment, his eyes flood with sadness.

They flood with his hatred of the underground. His weariness of breaking himself and others to provide for you and your son sleeping soundly in the next room. His ache to do something–anything–else that will put an end to the dead-eyed reflection he sees in the mirror.

But the underground is lawless, and you know he doesn’t have a choice. Debts, loyalties, threats… all cruel dictators of the life Namjoon’s been forced to lead. And lead it he will, as long as you are living and breathing beside him. As long as you are there to rebuild him when he crumbles.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, and you shake your head, smoothing out the lines between his eyebrows.

“No,” you murmur, fingertips tracing his face. “It’s just my job as your wife.”

A wry smile twists on his lips, one you quickly seek to remove with several soft pecks to the flesh.

“And as your wife,” you muse between kisses, voice turning playful, “I wanna see what damage you can do.”

His smirk returns with full force, and he resumes his exploration of your ass. “Oh yeah?”

Arms looping over his shoulders, you catch your tongue between your teeth. “Mhmm, think you can handle me, big guy?”

“What, you think I can’t go a couple rounds with you?”

With a matching smirk, you lean forward, rocking against his growing erection as you slant your lips to his.

“I think you can try,” you breathe.

He growls deep in his throat before reaching up and threading his fingers in your hair, yanking your head back to expose your neck. Your gasp melts into a moan as he marks his way across your skin, flesh turning crimson in his wake. When he closes his lips over your most sensitive spot, just below your pulse, you shudder.

In your years with Namjoon, you’ve discovered the bridging dichotomy between the fighter and the man you love. It’s in the way he claims you, paints you into a galaxy with his teeth and lips, etches his signature into your skin, as if bruising you with his love will erase the bruises he’s left in the ring.

You wear each one proudly, a constant reminder of the choice you made to call him yours.

“Joon,” you gasp, eyelids fluttering.

“Yeah, baby?” He nibbles at your collarbone before laving it with his tongue.

You don’t reply, instead shifting so your barely covered clit presses directly onto his cock, thick and defined beneath soft fabric. A small rut of your hips sparks an inferno in your veins, vocalized through a quivering whimper. His chuckles melt into groans as you grind against him, and he ducks to pull a nipple between his lips.

The sensation shudders through your bones, arousal flooding your cunt when he swirls his tongue over your bud through the barely-there fabric. A moment later, he has your bodysuit pooled at your waist and pauses to hiss a curse at the sight.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he whispers, chest heaving slightly, before diving back in.

“Baby.” You are clutching the nape of his neck, shivering helplessly as he traces the pebbled skin in relentless circles, teeth coming out to tug and release over and over until your head spins. A hand leaves your ass, and you feel his fingers pinching and twisting, palm cupping your breast with a tantalizing pressure.

He works you up, teases you breathless, pools the slickness soaking your body suit with each passing minute, and the pleasure is relentless. A constant vibration pulsing between your legs, through your fingers, down to your toes, rendering you a shuddering, whimpering mess in arms that flex to hold you upright.

Through the delirium, you realize he will have you falling apart just like this.

He confirms this when he purses his lips over your swollen bud, sucking with the right amount of force to have you riding that edge with a wanton moan. The sensation crescendos as he switches rapidly between your nipples, kissing and nibbling until it becomes too much, too fast, and you writhe above him.

“Oh fuck! Namjoon, I–oh shit shit shit, I’m gonna come,” you wail, and he growls against your chest.

Stomach clenching, hips rocking, hands vice-like around his bulging biceps, you surrender to your climax, babbling incoherently as it shudders through your body in pulsing waves.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” you whimper, aftershocks drumming up your bones, leaving you winded and feverish.

Namjoon pulls away with a triumphant grin, eyes locked on where your thighs meet. “You made a mess, baby,” he purrs, and you follow his gaze to see your arousal has leaked through the fabric of your bodysuit and hopelessly stained the outline of his cock.

Another whimper leaves you as he growls, “I fucking love your tits,” punctuating the statement with a kiss to each nipple.

Still panting, you reach down and snap the waistband of his Calvins. “Off. Now.”

Ignoring the amusement in his eye, you rise to your knees so he can slide them off, not even bothering to hide the needy breath that slips out when his cock springs free, slapping heavily against his stomach.

As soon as his underwear hits the floor, you shift between his legs to press wet kisses around his navel.

On nights after a winning match, Namjoon often takes his adrenaline home, releasing it in a tight grip of your hair and deep thrusts down your throat. After a loss, he lets you take the lead, drowning in the warmth of your tongue, cunt, whatever you want to give him, as long as he can cum.

But on nights like tonight, between matches, in the wake of training, he likes to be teased. Likes you to drag out his pleasure, because it reminds him he is still alive. Still capable of feeling something good. Still worthy of something good, even with a line of broken bodies trailing his own battered soul.

He’s told you as much in hushed words breathed into the darkness of your bedroom when he cannot sleep.

And, god, do you want to remind him he is worthy.

Your tongue dips into the curves of his abs, hands caressing the tops of his thighs as you trace over the v of his hips. He brushes your hair back and you catch his eye, heart blooming at the unfiltered desire pouring from his parted lips in bated breaths.

You don’t look away as you explore him with your mouth, nibbling a mark into his hipbone. His gaze is heavy, searing straight to your core, as you wrap your hand around him, swiping his precum off the tip with your thumb. It smears down his cock with each drawn out pump of your fist, and he grunts when you lick a slow stripe up the prominent vein framing the underside.

“Y/n…” His voice strains in his throat, fingers threading firmly in your hair, but you refuse to take him fully, instead running your tongue over every inch of his length, kissing from the base to the tip before sucking firmly on the head.

Swirling over the sensitive flesh, you dip lower, only to pull back immediately, teasing him with the warmth you know he craves but refuses to take. He needs the chase, and you’re all too willing to provide.

When you finally grant him a brief thrust into your throat, he moans with a buck of his hips, stuttering out pleas and words of praise, his fingers shaky against your cheek.

“Fuck, y/n, baby,” he pants, leg jerking when you swirl your tongue around his balls, drawing one into your mouth.

You drink in the way his chest rises and falls, flush visible even under his tan and tattoos, nipples pebbled, abs flexing with each labored breath. You love when he loses himself. When he allows the world to fade to black, until all he can feel, see, and breathe is you.

When he lets you in to gather the pieces of himself he’s chipped away.

You smile when he whimpers, thighs quivering around your shoulders, and pull back.

“What?” He groans, bumping his head against the headboard as you thumb over his slit.

With a kiss to his pelvis, you sigh. “You sound so pretty when you’re needy.”

Gently twisting your hair into a ponytail, he guides you up and drags your lower lip through his teeth. “I’m always needy for you.”

A contented hum fills the space between you as he moves you back into his lap. “I like that.” Hand still wrapped loosely around his cock, you give him another agonizingly slow stroke.

“Mmm, I know you do.” Namjoon palms over your ass and thighs, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your bodysuit. “Get naked, please?”

You tilt your head back, neck going limp as you slump forward and kiss his lips. “Mkay.”

Dropping his cock against his abs, you rise to stand over him on the mattress and spin around under his dark gaze. He gets a front row seat to the wetness stringing from your nether-lips, glistening as it is revealed in the muted lamp lighting. His groan makes you giggle, and you have barely stepped out of the bodysuit before he shifts.

You feel his tongue latch onto your cunt with a delayed jolt of pleasure, nearly falling forward as you gasp. His strong arms hold you still, lips descending to close around your clit, suckling the bud, and your knees tremble.

“J-j-joon, w-what–” you stutter, breaking off with a whine and a strained rock of your hips.

His grunt is muffled against your wetness, tongue dipping into your entrance. “Can’t help myself.” He slurps obscenely, and you blush with an involuntary clench. The motion sends another drop of arousal onto Namjoon’s tongue, and he moans, lapping it up, but you need more.

“Joon,” you beg and tap urgently at his hands. “Namjoon, baby. Fuck me. Please, I need you to fuck me.”

Your wanton plea sees you twirled around and jerked roughly over his cock. He presses the tip between your folds to tease your entrance and drag over your slippery clit in tight circles.

“How do you want it,” he whispers.

Gripping his shoulders, you gasp when he dips an inch into your cunt. “Like this,” you breathe, desperate to trap him in your warmth.

The stretch is sinful, delicious and wet, your soft walls squeezing and fluttering around him as he lowers you onto his cock. When you press your ass to his thighs, he groans, head falling back, and you snag the opportunity to kiss at his Adam’s Apple, enjoying the vibrations of his voice beneath your lips.

“Shit, y/n, you’ll be the death of me.”

You exhale a breathy laugh and rock back only to snap forward, much to his enjoyment.

“Better me than anyone else.”

You let him take the lead, let him drag you up by your hips until he nearly slips out, then slam you back down, beginning a damning rhythm that shocks your spine with pleasure. The mattress squeaks softly beneath your knees, the air between your bodies steamy and thick. Only the knowledge of two sets of doors and your son’s deep slumber allows you to vocalize your need for your husband with reckless abandon.

“Oh, right there, Joon, right there,” you whine, when he adjusts the angle to pound directly up into your most sensitive bundle of nerves. His blunt head kisses your cervix with each drop.

“Yeah? That feel good?” He growls, running his lips over the column of your throat, and you whimper an affirmative.

“S-so so good, mmmm.” Sinking onto his pelvis, you circle your hips, grinding out a fresh wave of arousal that soaks the base of his cock with an arch to your back. Your cunt clenches around him, and his fingers tighten over your thighs, face buried in your neck.

“F-uck,” he heaves, “you’re unbelievable.” Beads of sweat trail his temples, and he pulls back to lock eyes with you, chocolate irises heavy with something deeper than lust.

“I don’t deserve you.”

His words send a sharp pang to your heart, bringing you to a halt.

You let the pleasure in your veins simmer to a dull throb as you steady your pulse, shaking your head with a determined glint in your gaze. Encased fully in your cunt, his cock throbs against your walls, and you quiver at the sensation.

Wrapping an arm his shoulders, you press your palm over his racing heart, feeling it skip a beat when you squeeze around him.

“You feel that,” you ask, breathless, clenching again, and he moans brokenly. “You fill me up so well, baby. So perfectly. I was made for you.”

You drag yourself up and down, grinding your clit against the dark hairs on his pelvis. Your own breath hitches, forehead falling against his, chasing the twinges of pleasure with tiny ruts of your hips.

“You deserve me, Namjoon. You deserve the whole world.”

His eyes flutter shut, jaw clenching, and you know he doesn’t believe you. But you’ll keep telling him every day, every minute, until he does.

For now, though, you cup his face and draw him in, kissing him with as much love and devotion as you can pour into his lungs.

“I love you.” Another press of your lips. “I need you.” A breathless tangle of tongues. “Make me come. Please.”

You barely register the change in position before he is hovering above you, hooking your legs over his shoulders and entering you again with a single, powerful thrust.

“Oh–“ You nearly choke, gripping his wrist where his fingers wrap around your calf. “Oh fuck.”

He reaches deep within you, filling a gap in your heart that aches without him. As his cock drags against your most sensitive spots, tears pool in your eyes from the pleasure, but it’s the knowledge that only he can unravel you, break you apart and piece you back together–just as you do for him–that has you gasping out his name.

He was made for you.

“I love you so fucking much,” he growls, groping your breast. “You’re fucking perfect.” His voice shakes with exertion, fierce eyes boring into your glazed ones, possessive and utterly consumed with you.

“Mine.”

Your eyes roll back, and you nod helplessly, the pressure reaching a peak as you beg him to take you. Moans escalating, your fingers grapple for purchase, clawing at his biceps, his shoulders, anything you can reach. Your head rocks back and forth against the pillow as you ride along the precipice of ecstasy, tears spilling as you chase after the final push.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” you cry, and he grunts, rearing back to slip his hand between your bodies.

The presence of his thumb on your clit sends you careening into your orgasm, cunt pulsing around him wildly, your entire body vibrating, writhing under his weight as you sob out for him, barely registering the groans of praise he showers over you.

It seems to go for an eternity, wave after wave rolling through you, leaving you heavy-limbed and dizzy, a buzz settling in your eardrums.

A moment passes, and through your daze, you hear his voice, low and heavy, against your lips.

“I’m not finished with you, baby.”

You’ve barely caught your breath before he is flipping you over, manhandling your limp form with an ease that sends a leftover wash of warmth through you. Falling against the sheets, you stretch your arms over your head and let gravity arch your back.

He presses into the base of your spine, smoothing soft circles into your skin, before asking, “You good?”

You flinch when he grazes his cock over your folds, still sensitive and swollen, but nod, ready and willing. “Take what you want, baby.” Finding his hand, you intertwine your fingers. “I’m yours.”

It’s hard to think after that.

The slapping of skin on skin mingled with breathy whimpers and throaty groans grounds you as you surrender to Namjoon’s hold, bending to his strength. He chases his high with an iron grip on your thighs, ensuring a mosaic of bruises for the morning, and you know he won’t last much longer.

“Gonna come,” he grits out, hauling your ass higher, readjusting to slam you back onto his cock. “Fuck. You ready for me?”

“Mmmm, yeah, fill me up,” you moan, voice pitching as you cling to the sheets, reveling in the oversensitivity.

His hand leaves your hip to travel up your spine, weaving and fisting through your locks, pushing your face further into the mattress as his body bows over you, hips losing their rhythm. His breaths are ragged, grunts deep and feral in your ear, and you reach back to clutch at his thigh.

“Come for me, baby,” you pant, swirling your hips as he grinds into you, and then he is releasing with a choked groan, his warmth flooding you so deliciously that you sigh softly.

Chests rising and falling in tandem, you hold each other as the lust settles into a thrum of contentment.

“You think Wooyoung woke up?” The question is a whisper against your skin.

“No,” you huff, eyes closed heavily. “You can’t wake him up with the fire alarm.”

Namjoon’s laugh vibrates against your spine, and you smile. You feel his fingers detangle from you hair, and a kiss is pressed into the space between your shoulder blades as he slips his softening cock out, allowing you to roll to the side and stretch your legs. A drop of his cum trails the inside of your thigh, and you nudge his leg with your foot.

“Clean me up,” you chide.

He chuckles on his way to the bathroom, returning with a damp cloth that he runs over your body, rough hands a stark contrast to the gentleness of his touch. When he’s done, he passes it to you, letting you pull him in for a kiss.

“Thanks, baby.” The cloth finds the hamper as you go to pee, and stepping back into the bedroom, you find Namjoon already dozing off beneath the covers, one arm hooked behind his head.

You pause by the bedside with a smirk. “Wore you out, did I?”

He smiles, eyes still closed, and you climb in next to him, pecking his dimple before nuzzling into his side. His free arm wraps around you tightly, as you rest your cheek on his chest. “You’re my strongest opponent,” he mutters into your hair, making you laugh.

You settle into silence, but your fingers think for themselves, absentmindedly tracing over the intricately detailed moon inked across his ribs. Textured scar flesh hidden beneath swirls of black and grey bring back memories of cage fights you no longer attend, of nights spent beside dingy hospital beds yelling at your husband for pushing too far, of each and every time your son has run into your arms, crying and asking why his daddy looks like that.

It boils your blood to know there’s nothing you can do. You are powerless, unable to protect Namjoon from the world that claims him, unable to protect your son from the reality that ages him beyond his five years. Unable to protect yourself from the fear that, one day, Namjoon might not come home.

He feels you tense and drums his fingertips over your waist. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing…” A beat of silence passes, and Namjoon’s thumb presses into your hipbone with a little more force. “…just…“ Rising on your elbow, you reach up to brush over the cut above his eye. “…wishing some things were different.”

He remains expressionless, but you can see through the mask. Can see the guilt, frustration, and anger accumulated behind a fragile wall of self-preservation. Years of relentless searching allowed you to find the fracture, poking and prodding until it shattered for only your eyes to see. In its wake you found him broken and alone, consumed by the self-hatred and shame suffocating him at every turn.

You pulled him out of the rubble, gave him a light to follow, a reason to fight his way out of the ring. You stood by him, gave him everything he never thought he deserved, gathered the pieces of his soul he ripped away himself. You stitched him back together, wove your love into the seams, made him smile for the first time since his long lost childhood.

You found the boy beneath the man, and you want to give him the world.

You wish some things were different. But not him.

“Do you regret it? Marrying me?”

He knows the answer, and you know why he asks.

You saved me from myself.

“Never.”

© uhgood-dooghu/moodievitamine, written August 2020. Please do not copy, repost, or translate!

[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [7]

Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 7.5 OR Chapter 8

➜ Words: 2.7k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

You thought about it over Winter break.   While baking and laying around your dorm room, you’ve come to a self-revelation. You spent only a week in Jungkook’s hometown before coming back for the other two, not wanting to intrude on his family too much, and during that time, you’ve re-discovered a strengthened will. You’ve decided to abandon your unproductive heartache in favour of nurturing a new ambition, a new eagerness to flourish and thrive, and make the most out of your time here.   And Jungkook is surprised to see this fresh enthusiasm.   “You’re here early.” He steps into the kitchen to see you crouched over the counter with notebooks and textbooks sprawled out, already studying at the beginning of the semester.   “I know.” You lift your head to grin at him. “Just thought I’d get a head start. Don’t slack just cause we’re in the same class, Jeon. I won’t always give you notes when you skip.”   He approaches with a small smile. “I’m guessing the rest of your Winter break was good.”   “It was alright. It’s nice to sleep in. How was yours?”   “Lia and Eunbi kept crying when you left. I swear my family likes you more than they like me.”   “Naturally,” you taunt while batting your lashes. “I’m just so likable.”   “Uh-huh.” But that still doesn’t explain why you’re humming and smiling to yourself. It’s only eight in the morning and he wonders where the usual Little Miss Cranky went. “Did something good happen?”   “What do you mean?”   “You’re giggling to yourself.”   “I’m not giggling.” You feign a glare. “I’ve just...found new motivation to work harder. I thought about it a lot and….”   “And?”   “I’m going to get back with Seokjin,” you declare. Jungkook’s eyes are wide and you smile. “I’m going to catch up and become someone worthy of him. Someone he won’t be able to let go. I’m going to work my hardest, so he can be proud of me.”   “Huh.” The boy nods. “Well, good for you.”   “Psh, what’s with the bland response. Listen, you better look out, Jeon. I’m going to make the best portfolio ever to submit at the end of the semester.”   He grins. “Okay.”   You return to your work, finishing up reading the section while humming to yourself.    Jungkook glad you found a new vigour to strive and do your best — but he can’t help feeling unsure of your reasoning. He’s pretty sure that this isn’t it.   //   The lectures and hands-on workshops at the very start of the semester are always the blandest. Introductions are done, course outlines are looked at, and the professor drones on and on about the course’s expectations and what the assignments and examinations will look like. Jungkook isn’t exactly enthused to hear what he’ll have to get done in the coming weeks.   And it’s in this very boredom that he knows he doesn’t need to say anything about your new-found determination. Eventually class will wear you down like it does for everyone, and you’ll become indifferent again. You’ll come to your senses one way or another.   But to his surprise, you’re still very much jolly after classes.   “It hasn’t been one day and classes are already fucking me in the ass,” Taehyung groans.   “Hey, guys!” You plop down with Jungkook beside you. “I missed you. How was Christmas break?”   “It was good.” Hoseok looks up, appearing utterly exhausted with dark circles lining the area beneath his eyes.    Yoongi actively glares at you. “You’re chirpy.”   Much to his dismay, you laugh. If Yoongi was a dog, he’d probably bite you.   Jimin smiles. “Did something good happen, Y/N?”   “Actually, yeah. I just realized some things over the break and I just have more motivation to work hard, you know?”   “Can you give me some of that motivation?” Taehyung groans. “What does it take?”   “A fear of flunking and getting kicked out should be more than enough motivation,” Yoongi deadpans.   “What’s your motivation, Y/N?” Hoseok asks, the corner of his mouth curling.   “I…” You glance at Jungkook, not sure if you should tell them the truth. But after a moment of hesitation, you go for it. There’s nothing to hide. “I’m going to try to get back together with Jin.”   At once, you receive mixed reaction — Jimin goes blank, Taehyung lifts his head off to the table and Hoseok’s brows are raised, lips tight. He’s the one who breaks the silence. “Wow, that’s great, Y/N.”   You grin. “I know, right?”   “How are you going to do that?” Taehyung looks at you. “If I can ask…”   “I’m going to improve myself and become someone he wants, someone worth him.”   “But is it really up for you to decide?” Yoongi asks out of the blue, piping up as he chews some chicken in his cheek. The black-haired man looks at you lazily. “It takes two.”   “Yeah, but I can try, right?” You shrug your shoulders, wearing a small smile.   But Yoongi doesn’t accept what he hears, not in the way you want him to. “He dumped you, didn’t he? What makes you think he’ll want you back?”   “I—”   Taehyung steps in before the situation can escalate. “Yoongi.”   But the tired man ignores him, his eyes piercing, even if he gazes at you languidly. “You think you can change him or change what happened?”   “I love him.” Your eyes are glossy and there’s an overwhelming urge to block out your ears.   Yet Yoongi scoffs. “Okay. So what? Who says you won’t be dumped again?”   “Yoongi, chill it, dude,” Taehyung intervenes and Hoseok is also alert, trying to change the topic to no avail. In the meanwhile, Jimin is caught in the conflict and rendered speechless, but what hurts most is that Jungkook doesn’t defend you. He doesn’t utter a single word of support.   “Is it so bad to want him back?”   “Yeah. If he doesn’t want you back.” He shrugs. “It would be more productive if you get on with your life, got better and showed him what he missed out on. Trying to get back together with him makes you look desperate.”   “I never asked for your opinion, Yoongi.”   “Fair, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t hear what I have to say. Plus, I’m just asking you questions and as of yet, I haven’t heard any answers, Y/N,” Yoongi bites back. It’s not like the friendly banter that you have with Jungkook. What Yoongi says is painful to hear, heavy on your heart. It’s argumentative with intentions to prove himself right, confrontational in a way you’ve always avoided. “Why are you setting yourself up to be hurt again? Don’t you think you deserve better than that?”   The group falls into strained silence. The tension wraps itself around your throat, robbing your breath from your lungs. Nothing is spoken, no one utters a word. They stare at you as if they’re waiting for a response, for your justifications. But they don’t need to hear it — it’ll sound like a broken record.   They’ll never don’t get it — how much you love Seokjin. How much you miss him. How much you want him back in your life. Someone who used to be your best friend, who was your entire world, your person, and how he’s turned into a complete stranger.   “Alright, guys. Let’s just agree to disagree, okay?” Taehyung laughs stiffly, trying to dial it back. But you abruptly stand, grabbing your tray of food.   “Y/N.” Jungkook grabs your arm before you can walk away.   You don’t face him. “I have some stuff to do. Catch you guys later.” After dumping the tray, you walk out of the building before they can see the tears in your eyes. And they watch your backside until you’ve disappeared from the dining center.   “You’ve really done it now,” Hoseok chides Yoongi.   The male shrugs. “Was I wrong? She needed to hear it from someone and apparently I’m the only one willing to be the bad guy.”   //   You continue to march across campus with no destination in mind, merely attempting to find some peace and quiet. You tear open the door to the west wing, sniffling as your breath heaves, and at your hasty pace, you fail to notice another person walking in the opposite direction until your shoulders collide with one another.   “S-Sorry.”   The rounded, short girl regards you with bright eyes, wearing a white apron and jeans. “It’s okay—oh, Y/N, right?”    “Do I….know you?”   “I’m Yoo Aeri. We met each other on orientation day, remember?”   “Oh my god.” It was four months ago, but you can vaguely recall the first person you befriended. You were so happy that you met someone friendly that you told Seokjin right away, even if you forgot to exchange contact information. “I remember now. I’m so sorry I forgot, my mind lately is just…”   She laughs. “Don’t worry about it. I actually switched into the culinary program recently.”   “Oh, really? That’s super cool. I heard it was hard.”   “It is a little, but the Baking and Pastry Arts program is a lot more competitive. I just found it wasn’t for me.”   “I know what you mean. I can get pretty tough.”   Aeri smiles and you realize she’s holding a plastic wrapped plate when she thrusts it towards you. “I’m actually walking around right now to see if someone wants to eat this — It’s seared salmon I made in class, but I made too much. As usual. Do you want to have lunch with me?”   You’ve never had such a proposition before. “I’d love to.”   //   8:12 pm. Jungkook: is the plan still on?   Every so often when Jungkook’s sick of you complaining about the vile food at the dining hall, the both of you go out to grab a bite to eat off-campus. His wallet cries but he has to admit that it’s fun.   Tonight though, you haven’t knocked on his dorm room yet and he hasn’t been in contact with you since lunch. Jungkook wonders passingly if you’ve permanently ghosted him — if so, he doesn’t know why he’s being punished for Yoongi’s actions.   8:14 pm. Y/N: oh yeah sorry 8:14 pm. Y/N: not tonight   The moment he gets the message, his brows shoot to his hairline. Jungkook audibly groans.    You should’ve told him sooner. He can’t get a good meal in the dining center when it closes in just fifteen minutes. But Jungkook wonders if you’re underneath your covers crying, if you’re really that weak willed to be broken down so easily by a few words from Yoongi, but then—   8:16 pm. Y/N: made a new friend   Wow. So you ditched his ass for someone else — now Jungkook has zero sympathy for you.   With the annoyance of a lifetime, he grabs his coat and decides to go out anyways. He doesn’t need you. He can enjoy a perfectly good meal off-campus by himself.   It takes Jungkook fifteen minutes by bus to get to the bustling street. He enters the cozy pizza restaurant down the block that you’ve both gone to a few times and orders takeout. He waits at the front playing a game on his phone to pass the time, hoping he can get home soon and enjoy the food in the comfort of his own bed.   But Jungkook’s ears perk when it catches loud voices that draw his attention. He naturally lifts his head. It’s a mistake.   He can’t even act that he doesn’t know them, that he didn’t see them, not when his eyes connect directly with Jin’s and they look at each other.   Yet, to Jungkook’s surprise, the older man stops with a smile. “Hey!”   The best way to describe his relationship with Seokjin was that they are acquaintances — similar to how he would’ve called you, excluding the recent months. Jungkook knows Jin from high school, saw him in the halls but they seldom spoke to each other. They hear things about one another but that’s the furthest extent of their interactions.   Until now.   “Are you here alone?”   “Yeah I’m just grabbing some takeout.” Jungkook awkwardly hitches a thumb over his shoulder.   Seokjin nods, plump lips naturally pouted. “Were you in the area?”   “Not really. I came from school.”   “Oh, that’s actually pretty far. I’m surprised you didn’t just do delivery.”   Jungkook’s doe eyes double. He feels like an idiot. “Oh shit, actually?! I didn’t know they had delivery!” He could’ve saved himself half an hour.   Seokjin grins. “Yeah, but it costs an extra two dollars.”   “Guess I’m saving money then.” He feels bitter. Sincerely, you are the curse of his life. Jungkook would’ve never been in this situation if he didn’t feel a need to imaginarily prove you wrong in his mind.   “Jin!” One of his male friends calls out, signaling him over as the waitress shows the rest of his friends to a table.   “I’ll be there in a minute.”   Jungkook can kind of understand the sad state you were in after the breakup. Aside from Seokjin’s handsomeness that even renders Jungkook speechless at some angles, it’s evident that Jin has a good personality. He’s friendly and warm, despite being an acquaintance. And Jin never once treated him poorly even back when he had his feud with you.   “Want to step outside for a minute?” Jungkook asks. “It’s kind of loud in here.”   “Sure.”   The two of them exit the restaurant and become enveloped in the chilly air. It is quiet out here, almost too quiet. They can finally hear each other properly but Jungkook finds his thoughts are deafeningly loud.    “So, what did you end up ordering?”   “Three sausage and two pepperoni.” Jungkook’s fond of the way you always call him a meathead as he stuffs his face with it. “It’s my favourite.”   “Oh really? I’m more of a pineapple man, myself.”   “I’ll admit, I hated pineapple myself until Y/N changed my mind.”   Seokjin grins. “She did for me too. How is she, by the way?”   “She’s...fine. Enough to drive me crazy.” Jungkook sighs with the force of his entire being and Jin nods with the corner of his mouth quirked.    “I'll admit, I was pretty surprised when I heard through the grapevine that you guys became friends. But I’m glad she has someone with her.”   “We’re not like that.”   Jin hums. “Doesn’t change the fact that she has someone to support her.”   There’s a pause. “Can I ask you something?”   It’s the reason Jungkook went out of his way to ask him to come outside. He’s curious and maybe it’s not his place to be, but he’s always felt more involved than he should be. Jungkook wants to understand, to clear his confusion, to hear the other side of the story.   “Depends on what it is.” Seokjin smiles.   “Why did you break up with Y/N?”   You had never really told him the reasoning, and he’ll admit it was bizarre when the two of you split. Jungkook always thought you were one of those irritating high-school sweetheart couples that would eventually get married and settle down with one another. The kind of couple that would get their love story posted in the newspaper after their seventy year anniversary.    A picture-perfect happily ever after.   Seokjin sighs, a cloud of condensation emitted through his parted lips. He leans against the brick wall and looks up at the night sky. “Sometimes...there doesn’t need to be a bad reason or a red flag or some kind of deal breaker.”   “Then why?”   Seokjin shrugs. “I always felt like Y/N loved me a lot more than I loved her. Always.”   “Sometimes, it felt like she put me on a pedestal. Other times, I think I made her feel inadequate. But she was always willing to give up everything for me.” Their eyes connect, Jin’s sheepish and soft. “And for me, I constantly felt like I had to play the part of a good boyfriend, rather than be one because it came naturally. It made me feel guilty. She didn’t do anything wrong. I think I just realized sooner that we weren’t the ones for each other.”   A disconnect. Jin liked you — he adored you — but you loved him wholeheartedly with your entire soul. Even now you still earnestly love Jin.   Jungkook isn’t sure what to do with the new information. But he suddenly feels bad for you. More than he ever has.

[hinamie]

hi hina! i love your art so much i can't stop staring at your megumi and yuuji piece 😭 how do you usually render your paintings? do you use the lasso tool? how long do pieces like that usually take for you to finish? and when do you consider a piece to be done, like when do you stop working on it? sorry if these questions are a lot, or if any of these were already answered! please feel free to ignore, thank you!! i hope your 2021'll be a good one 🙇‍♀️🤍

hello anon!!! im so happy u like my art omg :’))) and no need to apologize at all <3

here’s a colouring tutorial I made a while back, my general process for painting hasn’t changed all that much ghfgs. Sketch>flats>details>effects using minimal layers if i can help it! I’ll also link a recent timelapse I did so u kind of see the full start to finish, you cn hopefully see a bit more of the rendering for yourself rather than just hav me try 2 explain :’>

whether or not I use the lasso tool usually depends on the amount of detail I’m going for with a piece though lately I have been making more frequent use of it. like if there’s Lots going on in a given area that I’m trying to render I’ll lasso it off so that I don’t fuck up anything else I’ve already worked on! I’m also getting into the habit of using it for blocking in initial hair shadows

my sleep schedule is so fucked so its hard 2 guess accurately but i think usually if I’m rly focused and in the Zone with like. ur average drawing it’ll take me a little under 24hrs? N for bigger pieces with more than 2 characters it can take anywhere from 2-4 days I’d say? u know oddly enough tht megumi/yuuji piece didn’t take very long at all I actually finished it all in the span of one evening i was really surprised at myself :’) 

I consider a piece to be done when there’s no more sketchiness or glaring mistakes n I’ve had my fun playing around with the saturation/colour balance/contrast settings :’> slap a textured overlay on that bad boy and call it a day cast it into the void of tumblr n wait for validation frm strangers on the internet 

thank u for asking and i hope this helps a bit!! happy new year to you as well~

[balletroyale]

Asked and Answered: Russian Ballet

Honest question, do you think there’s a chance Kovaleva won’t be promoted to prima after all? Her repertoire is astoundingly limited... is it possible that newly-promoted Marchenkova will overtake her?

I have no idea what will happen. But I wouldn’t say Kovaleva’s repetoire is limited, especially as she is so ill-suited for what she does do. I will say that I see two openings for principal women at the Bolshoi in the next five years. Who will it be? Well, favor changes quickly there...

(Contd from last message re: Bolshoi v Mariinsky) can you BELIEVE than Nagahisa got JULIET?????? What’s next??? Nikiya for Lukina, Aurora for Nagahisa, Raymonda for Ionova and O/O for Nuikina?

Given the incompetence of the directing of the theatre, I fully suspect all these will eventually happen... But if the question wasn’t rhetorical, I’d say Aurora for Nagahisa and O/O for Nuikina are soonest in our future. Barf. 

Honestly I’m amazed at all the roles 2nd soloists at the Mariinsky get versus Bolshoi soloists.... I mean, Giselle for both Lukina and Nagahisa??? One of the heaviest principal roles?!?! Gamzatti for Nuikina? Meanwhile the only principal role Denisova has danced is Phrygia, Zhiganshina danced Gamzatti and both have been with the company for longer than the Mariinsky girls I mentioned. even Sevenard who is so hyped up hasn’t danced any principal role besides Kitri. And Kitri is objectively entry level, it’s not comparable in difficulty with Giselle. IMO the Bolshoi policy is much more prudent, I really like how they’re handling young dancers rn (perhaps they have learnt from the Kovaleva mess...?)

The structure of the Mariinsky is absolute f****ed up. Their ranks have basically been rendered meaningless. They have about four women who actually dance as principals, and yet almost all of the first soloists dance almost if not more frequently (as they dance principal AND soloist roles) for less prestige and of course, less money. If you’re going to cast people consistently in leading roles, then promote them so they can have something to show for it. It’s disgraceful to not give these dancers the rank they deserve. 

I agree the Bolshoi is leaning towards being miles better in this regard, though it hasn’t always been the case. I hope the trend continues. 

Regarding maria khoreva’s promotion, I think I saw someone say (I forgot who or where) that they suspect that Fateyev keeps promoting her to keep her at Mariinsky. She’s a major talent and they probably want to push her as the next Lopatkina or at least Tereshkina (god forbid but you know what I mean). But she’s very famous especially on social media with digital marketing, Instagram, Tiktok, etc. and has a lot of connections and clout overseas in the West. Basically any company would be happy to take her and she would instantly be an international star (with her level of dancing and being in a Western company) so Fateyev is desperate to keep her at Mariinsky so he attempts to appease her with leading roles and the rank of first soloist. Maybe this is something really obvious that everyone already knows but I never thought of it this way before and I think it makes a lot of sense.

Yes and I do really respect her business acumen and ability to sell herself for what people consider her worth as a young woman. However, I think she and the companies are very misguided in thinking that this is the way that ballet companies should be structured and careers made. 

Ohhh my GOD. This might seem a bit random but I honestly don’t know where else to talk about this (I’ll confront the people I’m about to talk about below but just thought sharing this here is quite important). So I run a Krysanova fan account on IG, recently posted a video of her fouettés. Someone reposted them on Twitter with the caption “Europeans” and someone else replied “Black culture: twerking” which they liked. I clicked into their account, they claim to be “pro-White” (now what the fuck is that?) and to “inspire, bring hope and joy to Whites” and they post content of European women. That’s fine and dandy, I love European culture but newsflash! Not all Europeans are White! And they didn’t even ask me for permission or credit me (just like how Europeans stole, invaded and colonized Indigenous peoples and their lands ahem) but that’s not even the worse. They apparently posted some photos that have Sw*stik*s in them (and deleted them promptly afterwards) and they went on some Youtube video of two Black women talking about dating and marriage in Iceland and harassed them saying Icelandic people find it disgusting, that they’re promoting “White replacement”... They also retweeted this account who is basically a White Supremacist spewing nonsense and hate to POC, especially the Black community. Saying White people are “being attacked”, defending H*tl*r, N*z*sm and racism, that POC perpetuate violent crime, drugs and prostitution, that Europe should only belong to “Indigenous Europeans” and it’s appalling that POC are “replacing White people” etc.. It hurts and disgusts me to see ballet, such a beautiful art form empowering and uplifting so many people around the world, being fucking weaponized and perverted into something that endorses such a vile belief and worldview. I know this might seem super random in your ask box, It was just one account that I’ve seen so far, I don’t know if this has been going on for a long time in their wider community of racist fucks but this is certainly the first time I have seen it and I’m SICK. I REALLY hope exploiting ballet for their disgusting purposes is not an actual phenomenon but it probably is :(

I’m sorry this happened to you. I don’t think it’s a widespread phenomena though, fortunately. 

[vohalika]

hello, this is random but.. could u please tell me some of your fav things about vex? i don't often see people who Really Like Vex and we need more of that

Well, well, well, anon.

I have literally no idea how long it has been since you asked this of me, but rest assured I have not forgotten! Well, okay, I had for a while, then I saw it again and was like “oh, right, huh… And would you look at that, I’m about 100 posts away from 100,000… Wouldn’t that be a good one…”

So. Here we are! An unstructured rambling of all the reasons I really, really love Vex, somewhere between superficial and embarrasingly personal, to celebrate this arbitrary number of things I have spread around on this hell site.

Okay, first of all, the only thing Laura had to say to Kit Buss for the official art was “make her hot”. That is a Statement. And boy did Kit and also everyone deliver on that.

Like seriously. I didn’t use to be a fan of feathers in hair or white armor, but good god does she make it work.

Hey, I said this was going to be extremely superficial

Another thing I really didn’t use to like, twins. Overdone and usually poorly executed. But our girl made a Point out of being as different from her twin as she could be while at the same time being completely believable siblings.

I swear to god I’ll do my absolute best to mention Vax as little as possible. This is not about him.

Third thing I really couldn’t stand! The one, usually female, team member with a pet! Closely related to the one with the nature powers! I don’t know, these just always rubbed me the wrong way in media before, probably because I also never really cared for shows or movies about animals. Fight me.

And yet here she is, and she is not the “won’t somebody think of the children animals!” type of gal and Trinket is amazing and it still ties into her personality on a larger scale without being preachy.

I have a fourth thing. I also really don’t care for elves, ever. Everybody hates them. And then she turns around and makes me cry about the elf thing. Good god.

Yes, watching the first episode way back when was an uphill battle. There’s a reason I started with episode 69 and then watched the rest.

Nice.

Vex has the best worst sense of humor. No, really. I’m not even talking about that time she made a comment about the boy with the shot off fingers not having much of a future as a musician. But I’m also talking about that. And that time Scanlan tried having a meaningful monologue about having a daughter now. “I’ve defined most of my life by the people I slept with, and now…” - “Well, technically, this is still kinda defined by that.”

(Shoutout to Percy “I was just thinking that”)

Also, “We don’t do anything with dignity”, “I only serve gods with big dicks”, “You might live forever, but you will still be fucking ugly”? Girl is iconic, even if her sense if humor is usually pretty inappropriate for the given situation, she just can’t help it. I relate.

On a related note, it is so easy to play a similar archetype and have her just be this always dignified and above the humor kind of stuck-up. It’s basically how most people would have written her (and a certain someone did). But not our girl, oh no.

Also, I recently made a post about this, but we really, really don’t talk enough about how she’s just the leader of the party. She is. No, really, lower your bitch sticks, y’all. She’s the one to talk to the most NPCs, she’s the one to usually say go, and everyone just naturally adheres to her. It’s never forced, it’s never an “I, as the leader” moment, and she doesn’t try to wrestle her way into the role. It’s just what happens naturally.

Which also means she’s good at stepping back and letting other people shine for a bit. But still, Vex is the reason they didn’t just flounder around like a chicken without its head after Scanlan left. Laura was late to two sessions in campaign one; the first one was already in an extended battle scene, and the other was literally spent in a bedroom in hell waitinig for Vex to tell them what to do.

This is why scholars are generally of the opinion that Vex is the only Top in VM. And also what intellectuals refer to as Big Dick Energy.

Let’s talk about what the assholes call Greed. Yes, Vex is, out of all of them, the most pre-occupied with gold and loot. But she NEVER hoards anything for herself, never spends any of her own gold on herself even until the timeskip, leave alone the party funds.

She looks out for the interests of the group, makes sure they get the best possible deals and are paid what they are owed. And she’s the only one to ever worry about money, too, whereas everyone else never bothers to think about it. Hence why her and Vax split the cost of paying their staff after the party spent all the funds early on.

Look, I find her worries very indicative of growing up in poverty with her mom, than surrounded by rich and important people but locked out of the loop, and then poor and on the road again with Vax. I find it very relatable, and everyone who claims that looking out for the financial well-being of the party is “greedy” is lucky enough to never have had to worry about eating next month while also making rent.

There’s Safety In A Fist Full Of Diamonds, okay?

No really I need y’all to read that and send it to the annoying bitches who complain.

Vex is literally never stingy when it comes to helping people with the money she made sure they have. Remember how she didn’t even flinch at spending a five digit number to free angel boy slaves?

WHICH LEADS ME TO ANOTHER POINT. Vex. Vex has a serious hoarding problem. But not when it comes to money of earthly possessions. No. When it comes to PICKING UP STRAYS.

It’s how she got Trinket.

It’s how she got the angel babies.

It’s what she tries to do with the grey render baby.

It’s what she suggested they do with the dragon eggs in the Raishan fight

(LET! VEX! HAVE! PET! DRAGONS!)

IT HOW SHE GOT HER OWN GODDAMN HUSBAND OKAY.

I have no idea how she hasn’t adopted her own zoo by the time VM forms. Though I can totally see her opening orphanages in Whitestone, both for people and animals and creatures of all kinds, really.

Remember when she was the only one to protest the punching of a spectral ghost cow?

The hardships of her youth made her, yes, very afraid of being out of money, but also made her compassionate as fuck. She’s always down with helping people even if there’s little to no coin in it, okay? Stop overlooking that, assholes.

SPEAKING OF COMPASSION. Remember what her original beef with the Vasselheim potion seller was? That he took advantage of Grog being intellectually challenged. Which is what he did! Blatantly so! And he wasn’t the least bit sorry about it!

I mean, I bet he is by now, but, you know. Karma.

When Laura says Vex just wanted justice and then everyone else escalated that scene she is goddamn right, rewatch your own footage Matthew.

Oh god do I have to talk about broomgate now. I don’t want to talk about broomgate.

OKAY

Broomgate is literally the only time in the entire series that Vex ever takes something for herself. Was it the morally right thing to do? Maybe not. Though to keep in mind that a) Hardwick is a piece of shit, b) they literally met Gern when he had the skeletons of Kiki’s dead civilization dancing for him; Vax shanked Nothics for less, c) and this was hot off the heels of fighting a necromancer in the last big arc, too, d) they were on a mission to kill dragons. That fly. With no method of flying for the majority of the party. Vex always intended to use the broom for that purpose, so you could make the legal argument of commandeering it instead of stealing, and, finally, e) SHE HAD JUST FUCKING DIED

Why do we never talk about that

Other characters get cut all the slack for what they do after just dying

Other characters get cut all the slack when they steal from other guests

Other characters get cut all the slack when they withhold loot for the party

Other characters DIDN’T GET AN ALIGNMENT DROP FOR DOING WORSE SHIT THAN THIS

WHY ARE WE STILL TALKING ABOUT BROOMGATE

WHY WAS BROOMGATE EVER EVEN A THING

okay

okay

MOVING ON

Hey, while we’re at dying. Remember how Vex spent the day after she, literally, died, trying to make sure the person who was to blame for her death was okay? She did that. And Percy was uncomfortable with it, visibly so, but also too guilty to call her out here.

And no one. NO ONE. EVER. Bothered to check in on how she felt after dying.

Vax made it all about the sacrifice he made, Percy felt too guilty, NO ONE ELSE CARED.

And what does she do? Soldier on. Try and cheer Vax up and support him in any way she can.

Honestly, learning the Raven Queen book by heart and then telling him that being the champion of a god is really fucking cool? Relatable. Relatable as fuck. You go girl.

And TO THIS DAY. ACROSS TWO CAMPAIGNS. Vex has been the only one. THE ONLY ONE. To EVER check up on someone after they died. Jester might eventually be the second one, but, you know. I am a big advocate for post-death and just post-big-battle-in-general aftercare cuddle piles or whatever. Someone tell the cast to implement that immediately.

And while we’re at death, let’s talk about THE DARKNESS

There are dark facets to her character. Vex never makes her own issues everyone else’s problem and they go largely unadressed, but they’re there.

Saundor brought up the story about how she got Trinket and had to kill for the first time while doing so.

(Sidenote: Saundor doing more research into her character than an actual writer is extremely telling.)

That was definitely traumatic for a young girl and I don’t mean to dismiss that, but that’s also the part I can understand Vax dismissing when they talk about it later on. They do kill a lot of people after that and this was self-defense, so hey, okay. Fine.

HOWEVER

That short story was indicative of many other things that torment Vex. Mostly her low sense of self-worth.

Like, her entire inner monologue is centered around how stupid she was for getting into this situation in the first place (= for being taken advantage of by criminals at the tender age of probably like 15), and how this would never have happened to Vax, who was away in the city to take care of them.

And we see that low sense of self-worth bleeding into Vex’s character throughout the campaign. That’s part of the reason why she spends the day after her first death making sure everyone else is okay. That’s also part of the reason she blames herself for Scanlan leaving and acts like she’s completely fine when he returns just so he’ll stay.

Honestly that short story is so insightful and explains so much about her, I don’t know how anyone could claim to have any grasp on her character without reading it.

(Also, Laura should write more, she’s talented)

Now a significant part of her self-worth issues obviously also ties back into her time at Syngorn. I can just hear people getting out their tiny violins, oh, waaah, she wasn’t one of the rich, cool kids in elf school, poor her.

But that’s not entirely it?

Like, just that is already plenty to fuck a person up. I’ve been there, too.

But let’s just say the fact that her dad was also cold towards them and acted like they were unworthy is a BIG part of what fucked her up. Call it daddy issues if you feel like being dismissive about a genuinely traumatizing upbringing, but that’s how it is.

And don’t get me wrong, if this were the traumatic childhood olympics, it’s not exactly up there and relatively tame for the background of a character in a fantasy story, but it is very true to life and extremely relatable, and Laura just executes it so well. So, so well.

That’s part of what makes the entire stretch of Feywild episodes so great. From what we see of Vax’s reaction later on, Percy is the only person she ever talked to about this - or at least the only one who ever listened - and he immediately got it. And instead of yelling at her about how amazing she is, he did something to make her feel better about herself. Without making it about himself, by the way.

I enjoy a fake married plotline as much as the next gal, but Percy giving her a title she’d have to earn by her own merits is soooo much more meaningful than just putting a fake ring on her, okay?

Yes, at the end of the day, this is basically a Cinderella fantasy. So what? No, really. One of the best things about Vex and her arc is that it validates feeling upset about not measuring up in superficial, material ways. And it validates getting your come-uppance. These are, as mentioned above, experiences that can really mess with a person, but we’re usually supposed to be above it all because money and titles don’t make you happy.

Also something only people who never struggled financially can say/believe unironically and without specifying.

Hell, that’s about 70% of the reason I’m considering getting a Ph.D. if I happen to get the grades.

I’m also not a big fan of the term daddy issues, but I can’t deny that this is a thing here

not the thing they went into the Feywild for, buuuut

ahem

So. Remember when Laura said during the campaign wrap up that Vex thought of Scanlan as a father figure and everyone was like whaaaaat? And I was like ahahahaha, I knew it.

This is so tragic, really. Because she tried so hard so many times to help Scanlan and be nice to him and he just brushed her off. And then she’s the one who volunteers to spend the night all by herself in some dirty pub far, far away after opening up to his daughter about her own issues to bring him back alive, and then gets yelled at, and never apologized to.

And then he comes back and tries to erase her memory and not only is that never even brought up, she also just doesn’t even think she might be owed an apology because a) she still blames herself for him leaving because, you know, they never really talked out what happened there and b) she’s just too happy for at least that father figure returning to them to make much of a fuss about it, and Percy, bless his heart, TRIES, but it’ll take a few more years of marriage to talk through all of her issues

And like. I am not wild about anything that happens after episode 99. If I’m known for anything in this fandom on this platform it’s probably for that time I was really into the Ioun discourse, which I still stand by, btw. And I personally would have preferred for Vex to maybe get someone like Sehanine as her patron, as fitting as giving her yet another unworthy and disapproving father figure in her life might be

But there is also something somewhat gratifying about everyone talking about how great she is. And she had been sort of working for Pelor before that. Also, the headcanons about her having sun spots or starting to glow when she gets emotional after this are amazing.

So I made my peace with that. She deserves better, but hey, she always does.

She is so smart. So extremely smart. People roll their eyes at her battle plans and say it’s all Travis feeding Laura information, but Travis fed her nothing that time she schmoozed up to the Briarwoods while also making herself appear extremely superficial and unthreatening. Honestly. That dinner scene? Prime Vex. Amazing Vex.

Her battle plans are also so good. Pokeball-ing Grog out of the kill box? Using the Goristro against Vorugal to save the party a trip into the abyss? The only plan of Vox Machina that ever worked out basically perfectly? Amazing. And even IF Travis told Laura these ideas, that means literally nothing in relation to how smart Vex is.

And btw I don’t believe that for a second. People just aren’t good with acknowledging that sometimes, D&D playing women might actually have good ideas.

And she just is so street smart. With her skills, her battle plans, and just her way of handling people. There’s a reason she is the natural leader when it’s not someone’s turn in the spotlight at the time.

Like, the two things holding her back were that her class was extremely underwhelming, so much so that it got completely revamped in the Unearthed Arcana to make up for how bad it was in the PHB, and the fact that she just. Has, what. 1.5 episodes of her own storyline? Even Pike got 2. It’s amazing that I can even say this much about her with how little narrative focus she got throughout the series. And most of what she did was literally due to Percy using his plot clout and putting a foot in the door to force her into the spotlight.

Speaking of which. Percy’s best quality, next to being self-aware of how fucked up he is and actively trying to do better and be kept in check, is how he realizes Vex is the coolest, smartest, most amazing person around and treats her accordingly. The way she deserves to be treated.

Oh hey I mentioned to get this far without even mentioning the romance arc. And oh my god THE ROMANCE ARC. The pining. The slow burn. And the fact that we actually saw them together and later married for like 35 episodes. They were so good for each other.

And yes, PERCY WAS GOOD FOR HER. And Vex was not his therapist and manic pixie dream girl. None of that bullshit here. Percy was already firmly on the path to being better before he even considered that crush he has had on her for forever to turn into something more.

And by he was good for her I mean that he actually UNDERSTOOD her and where she was coming from. Refer again to the titling issue, where Vax is just confused and kind of pissed, Percy got it. And that’s important.

Something I have not made a post about so far, by the way, is also something people have called problematic and co-dependant is how Percy shares his darker impulses with Vex in hopes she’ll talk him out of it. Which she does, and it’s never hard, but that also means so much to her? Because he involves her and tells her exactly what is going on with him and values her opinion? And that is just exactly what she needs? And they’re so good? THEY’RE SO GOOD.

WHEN DOES YOUR OTP EVER

HE COULDN’T HAVE ASKED FOR A BETTER DREAM

This is more on Laura, admittedly, but also, it was just so great to see her unapologetically pursuing this romance? There’s a place at the table for a 72 episode slow burn, and she’s gonna go for it, and there’s nothing any of the dudebros who are just here for the fighting can do about it.

And also Vex is just so unapologetically sexual at the same time. From episode 1 onwards, really, and in general and just limited to Percy. And no one ever treats that as weird or bad or anything. It’s just who she is and that’s great.

And she fought. So hard. For that happy ending of hers. Kicking and screaming, against the world and against Taliesin’s determination that Percy is irredeemable and not capable of getting a happy ending. Defy that auctorial intent, my girl. You deserve it.

Seriously. Seeing her get that happy ending against all odds was unfathomably gratifying and validating and I’ve never connected to any single character or narrative at large for that matter this much and this intimately, and considering how I came across this story at one of the darkest times in my life, I probably never will feel so strongly connected to anything ever again.

Which is probably for the best, but hey. 

Aaaand there you go. An almost unstructured, epically long list of reasons I love Vex. Dammit, I talked about other characters way more than I intended, buuuut hey. That’s how it goes when you’ve got an ensemble piece, they’re all kinda interwoven.

Thank you this wonderful ask, anon, and reason to celebrate my 100,000th post on this site in style.

[sth-lgbtq]

I hope I’m not a bother but do you have any tips on making an lgbt+ iconning blog? I’m sorry if this is bothersome!

Sure! I know this blog hasn’t been the most active as of recent, but I can help with this!Before you start, you should always set up your blog aesthetic-wise. Pick a theme for website viewers, choose some colors for mobile users, set up your rules, etc. Don’t forget to turn on anonymous asks!Second of all, you should try and find as many transparent photos of charaters as possible. I prefer to only use official art/renders so I don’t get in trouble with any fan artists. I keep them in a separate folder on my computer for easy access.Next, stock up on some icon-sized flags. All of my icons are 1000x1000, so I have some pre-made flags that are sized accordingly for my edits. I recommend separating the flags by categories like genders, orientations, aesthetic flags, etc.For photo editing software, you can only use free mobile apps like PicsArt or other software on PC. I personally use Paint Tool Sai 2 for my edits since it’s already my art software of choice and it has an option to make an outline on characters.Once you’re all ready, don’t forget to promo yourselves! Doing promos lets other users and blogs know that you exist and give you a head start on the blog’s progress. We gladly take promos for lgbt+ themed blogs. I think that’s it for all of my tips! If you need anything else, or if you even want me to send my flag icons, then don’t mind sending another ask! - Mod Tails

[jhope-seok]

chiaroscuro | Part 1

chi·a·ro·scu·ro (n.) /kyärəˈsk(y)o͝orō/: an effect of contrasted light and shadow (used in art); Italian, from chiaro light + oscuro dark

Disclaimer: All of the things mentioned in this story are all works of fiction and have been made up by me, the author.  I did not intend to make anything based on real life, and any coincidences to real life are purely coincidences.

AU/Genre: Mafia x Cop AU // Fluff, possible smut in future chapters 

Warnings: mentions of weapons and drugs

Members: Jungkook x Reader

Length: 1,948 words

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The smell of your favorite coffee house always wakes you up in the morning. The scent of coffee grounds emanates throughout the small shop, filling your nose, your throat, your lungs. The aromas occupy your mind until there is nothing left but coffee and it’s enticing grip on your brain. It is a much needed break on your sense of smell after the car ride into the city with your two large bodyguards.

You have told them time and time again how awful their cologne smells, and that if their aim is to protect you and be around you at all times, they really need to throw that disgusting crap away. Yet time and time again, you’re greeted with the overbearing scent of man musk whenever they’re around. You wonder to yourself if they do it on purpose just to bother you, knowing that they have to be with you and near you at all times--as ordered by your father--so, you conclude, they must have some sort of long, drawn out bet to see how long you can take it before you personally hose them down. Which, if this is true, it doesn’t surprise you.

You know the two men are not very fond of their job of watching over your every movement. You know that they see it as a demotion, but your father had been very insistent on it, claiming that it was their duty to watch over the head of the business, and since you had recently come into such job, they were to guard you and be with you during every waking moment of your day. You had managed to get it so that when you were at home, you could at least have some privacy, having them stand outside the door to your apartment instead of hovering over you as you tried to eat every meal.

You are very well aware of the fact that you could have ordered one of the maids that works on your floor of the apartment building to make you your desired beverage. But, when you awoke this morning to the realization that you had just become the head of one of the largest cocaine trafficking rings in the nation, the air in your overly large apartment became all too stale for your liking. Yet, now you’re wishing you had instead made your bodyguards go and retrieve your coffee for you, because the stench that surrounds them like a green cloud of smoke suffocates you during a drive you never remembered being as long as it is. Plus, it gives you a reason to insist you go into the shop alone.

They kept trying to warn you of the dangers of going into public spaces by yourself, claiming that you can never be too sure of when someone might try to attempt to kill you, or worse, kidnap you. “Now that you’re the head honcho--” one of them had began to lecture you, but you already had one foot already out the door.

You threw them your meanest look, and with ice in your throat your tongue lashed out, “If someone dares to kidnap me in Starbucks, of all fucking places, I swear to god I will personally give you a million dollars, each, for predicting it. Plus, I think I can fucking handle getting myself a cup of coffee for five minutes without you two idiots scaring the employees.” And with that, you stormed out of the car.

Now, as you wait by the counter to receive your coffee, you take several deep breaths of fresh air that hasn’t been polluted by your bodyguards. Your mood lightens with every lung-full of air, the warmth of the coffee shop lifting your spirits as the time approaches when your favorite beverage will be in your hand again.

Although, a dark cloud finds its way over your head as you begin to regret coming in alone when you start to feel like you’re being watched. You come to realize just how many other people are inside of the small coffee shop, although most of them seem to be occupied with their phones. You can feel your blood begin to race as your eyes scan the bodies around you, searching for something to explain the chills that are running down your spine. You know there’s no way that word could have already spread to the other gangs around the city that you took over the family business, but you’re starting to wish you had taken at least one of the stupid buffoons inside with you in case somehow someway someone had gotten wind of the situation.

You’re trying to keep a low profile, not wanting to let the person watching you know just how panicked you are becoming inside, when your eyes land on possibly the most handsome man you have ever seen standing a few feet away. His dark eyes burn holes into yours, and your heart races. You’re not sure if it’s the way that his hair is perfectly framing his forehead, or if it’s the way his adam’s apple moves as he licks his lips, but something about him is making your blood rush from your head, less from panic and more from arousal. You know it’s way too early for you to be feeling this turned on by the sheer sight of a man, especially in a crowded coffee shop, but you think to yourself that anything can happen. Except, when the glint off of his police badge catches your eye, your heart leaps into your throat.

You’re quick to avert your eyes, knowing that it’s never a good idea to speak to or interact with officers in any part of your city. You know that your father has done his part to pay off most cops, but this man looks young, almost your age, and you don’t know if he’s been bought off yet or not. And if he hasn’t, it is best not to engage him.

Although, he doesn’t seem to have any idea of who you are, as his eyes do not seem accusatory. His gaze on your cheeks feels almost, inquisitive. You’re trying to reassure yourself that you are certain you do not know this man, and that there’s no way this man knows you, or knows of the crimes your family commits. Or at least, that’s what you think, until he closes in and softly asks, “Y/N?”

You gulp down the fear that has lodged itself in your throat, making it hard to breath, and remind yourself that you’re a powerful woman, head of one of the largest drug mafias in the state, and at only twenty-six you can take on a young police officer. You flash him your best smile, and greet him. “Hi, I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

“Oh! I’m--” he’s caught off guard by the beauty in your smile. He can’t seem to believe he’s being graced by your presence, which makes your back a little straighter as your confidence grows. He clears his throat and stands up taller to match your actions. “I’m Jungkook. Jeon...Jungkook. We went to school together.”

Jungkook is amazed by the way you’ve aged. You look practically the same to him, but different in so many ways. He remembers a small girl, who seemed so timid and breakable, afraid of everything. He remembers the way you used to keep your head down through the halls, avoiding the eyes of all of your classmates. Although, he does recall many times when the other boys would try to tease you and all you had to do to make them stop was shoot them a death glare. Apparently, that hasn’t changed.

You narrow your eyes at him. “School? I don’t remember a Jeon...Jungkook.”

Jungkook blushes and casts his head down, rubbing the back of his neck. You make a mental note that this makes him looks extremely cute, like a small boy in front of his crush. It makes your heart flutter before you can catch yourself.

“Ah…,” he starts, unable to find the words to make this less awkward. He adjusts his holster as he searches. Which only draws your attention down to his belt and the gun, taser, and pepper spray so neatly wrapped around his waist, in pockets so perfectly designed for them, as if the three combined wouldn’t have the power to render you completely helpless. “We sat next to each other in middle school? We didn’t really talk much,” his words are starting to bring back memories in your mind of the weird, overly studious boy who used to sit next to you in all your classes. “But you were always this mysterious girl who I could never approach. Or rather, couldn’t imagine approaching.”

You stop him mid thought before he can ramble on any longer. “So why approach me now?” You cock your eyebrow at him, a smile playing on your lips. Because, if you’re being honest with yourself, now that he mentions it you do vaguely remember a Jeon Jungkook, but you don’t remember him being this...handsome. You remember a boy who always had his head down in his books, and when he wasn’t in his books his hand was always raised, the answer to every question on the tip of his tongue. You can recall sneaking glances at his tests every so often.

He flashes you a smile that almost instantaneously has you weak in the knees. “I don’t really know. Kind of knee-jerk reaction seeing someone from my past I guess.”

“Venti, cold brew with soy milk for Y/N,” the barista’s voice interrupts all thoughts in your mind, as you whip your head to see her placing it on the counter next to you. You turn back to Jungkook and bite your lip.

“Well, that’s me. I’ve got important things to do, and I wouldn’t want to get in the way of,” you pause, pointing to the badge on his chest, “important police work.”

You move to grab your coffee off the counter, and as you pass by him again, catching a whiff of a cologne that doesn’t make you want to vomit, he turns to watch you walk out.

“Maybe I’ll see you around again sometime, Y/N.” His voice is soft, alluring, and you have to stop the urge to ogle him as you leave.

You pause at the door. “Maybe you will.” You smirk, and push through the front door, glancing back once to throw him a wink and, “Officer.” The bell is much too cheery for your liking ringing a goodbye as you step back into the real world, the gaze of your bodyguards in the car piercing through the tinted windows.

Jungkook watches as you open the door to a car that probably cost more than his salary. He admires the way the black pants you’re wearing perfectly shape your backside as you sink into the backseat, and as he you drive off he can see you faintly through the windows and he’s reminded of a scene similar to this one from his childhood.

He remembers the silly crush he used to have on you: the girl who was a mystery to him. He often day dreamed about what went on in your home life, what it would be like to be your friend and to know the things no one else knew about you. But he never got the chance to even properly introduce himself to you back in middle school. He thinks to himself that there’s much to you he never knew and that meeting you again like this, he is determined to find out.

feedback is always welcome! please feel free to leave some here!

[tryingtofeelanything]

Soukoku Actor/Singer AU

This was originally an idea I’ve had for some time for a one shot. But I don’t know when and if I’ll ever be able to write it. So here are some headcanons instead for now. Chuuya is the singer, Dazai is the actor. Also, I’m getting a bit out of ideas. It’d be nice of you if you’d drop some themes/prompts/ideas in my messages, please. :) So that I can still post something new from time to time. Also, I’m currently rather sleep deprived, so I’m sorry if my English doesn’t make sense right now. I’ll check this post later when I’m a bit more awake. In the meantime, please don’t hesitate don’t point out anything wrong with what is written !

Of  course they knew each other’s name. But they’ve never met before. They don’t work in the same field. But they attract the same kind of people as their fans, more or less.

So a joined photo shoot somehow sounded like a good advertising for the both of them. Plus the fangirls would definitely like it.

And Chuuya was curious to meet this man. He heard he was a womanizer and had broken a lot of hearts already. So probably an asshole.

Said asshole showed up at shooting place two hours late. Heavily flirting with a clearly embarrassed staff member. Chuuya was already very irritated.

And the first thing Dazai ever told him ? “But Chuuya, I thought rumors said you were gay ?”. Here is the context : Chuuya impatiently told him to hurry the fuck up and to let the poor girl alone. The photo shoot was almost immediately cancelled. Dazai’s neck almost broken. Another hour lost trying to calm Chuuya down enough for him to not be frowning during the all thing.

So Dazai is very familiar with Chuuya and a complete bastard with a stupid cheerful smile always on his face. Actually part of the photo shoot had to be postponed because Chuuya cannot stand him. At all.

Another irksome part about this bastard : once he got bored, he started harassing Chuuya while pictures were still taken. Sensually blowing in Chuuya’s ear or invading his personal space. Or grabbing his waist forcefully and almost brushing his teeth against his neck, winking at a very red photographer (who looks like she was enjoying this, damn it). Chuuya wishes his fist hasn’t missed this stupid handsome face of his and rendered him unable to pose again.

So, to sum up, their first meeting was a disaster. For Chuuya. Dazai had a lot of fun and was totally up for meeting again.

Going through the whole shoot was such a pain that somehow the whole staff decided they had to celebrate its end, much to Chuuya’s dismay. Dazai was so irritating he gold drunk really fast. He remembers the staff suddenly disappeared after some time and only Dazai and him remained. After that, nothing. He woken up in a random hotel room at the other end of the city (how did they even got there ?). Naked. With Dazai snoring right next to him. Also naked.

Okay, he has to admit, Dazai sleeping is a piece of art. Dazai’s sleepy face, slowly waking up, is stunning. And... The bastard didn’t use any condom last night, Chuuya really is going to kill him...!

They met a lot after that. Supposedly randomly. Like, they somehow stay in the same cities/neighborhoods for their own project, or they suddenly get frequent projects together (well, the photos did sell very, very well. Chuuya realized a bit too late that they took the liberty to publish a few ones where Dazai was leaning towards a slightly blushing Chuuya...).

They bicker a lot. Or, rather, Dazai teases Chuuya a lot. They also fuck a lot. Their relationship is a mess.

Plus rumors are starting to pop up everywhere. About them having some kind of a romantic affair. It feels really awkward to Chuuya. Dazai obviously doesn’t care. But well, they never talked about it together. They just argue, fuck, argue, get to their own business separately and repeat. Trying to hide everything from the public.

The most awkward part is that Chuuya can hardly stand not knowing what Dazai is doing on the nights they don’t spend in a random bed together. He doesn’t forget how Dazai flirts with like everything. He wants to claim him publicly. ... How did he even fall so hard for such an asshole ?

When he did make this public claim, because he was tired of this all hide-and-seek games and all of the questions he got in interviews, it didn’t come up as a burst of anger and frustration as it would have been expected. He proudly stated that Dazai was his only. It also came off a bit as a threat to whoever may try to get what was his too.

He didn’t get any news from Dazai after that and started to think, maybe, he made a big mistake. Until Kouyou, who keeps an eye on the general image Chuuya gives off, handed him her phone with a dismayed look. She had a video playing on it showing a recent interview where Dazai was basically like “after Chuuya’s oh so romantically asking me out like that, I cannot turn him down. Ah, what a pain. But well, I have no choice.” Yeah, well, okay, they shouldn’t have probably done that and things won’t be easy in the future, right, Kouyou doesn’t need to look at him like that, he knows. But he feels so relieved right now that he can’t care the slightest about it for now.

[yoonicidal-blog]

Cover art for this post provided by the very, very, very, terribly lovely @bracari-iris~

Hello, this is @rapidratkiller hijacking yoonicidal’s blog~ v^_^

So, there have been quite a bit of debate over the recent motif of apples in Killing Stalking. Personally, I haven’t read any other meta posts about them (due to purposeful avoidance to draw my own conclusions), but over at the discord server, I have heard of a few interesting theories.

Sin

Apology

Now, I’ll be talking about why these are unlikely symbols before yoonicidal takes over to offer and explain a more poignant solution:

Sangwoo

Firstly, there is an instant connection between sin and apples for the Western fandom. This is because the Western fandom tends to be raised around Biblical symbolism. The apple is the forbidden fruit, the original sin. This is fairly easy to refute because the topic matter is not quite right. You see, the apples are brought up in relation to Sangwoo’s past, and, while there is quite a bit of sin there, it’s definitely not the focus. Besides, since when has Sangwoo ever cared about morality? Additionally, we must keep in mind that KS is Eastern media with a Korean author, meaning there’s very little reason for Koogi to throw in Christian symbolism. (This isn’t NGE with fake-deep biblical references meant to mystify an Eastern audience.)

Some people have noticed this fallacy in the fandom collective, which is why a different concept has been brought up, asserting that apples are meant to be representative of an apology. This is quite a culturally Korean thing to mention, considering it’s a commonplace pun.

Apple => 沙果 => 사과 (sa-gwa)

Apology => 謝過 => 사과 (sa-gwa)

Yes. The Korean words for “apple” and “apology” are homonyms, rendering this argument quite tempting, but I would like to claim that it too does not fit.

Honestly, I would love to say that my initial rejection of this theory was something logical, but my first reaction was quite literally “Koogi is too pretentious [for this].” Of course, I don’t mean this in a bad way. What I meant more was, Koogi is an author that works very subtle foreshadowing and plot elements into KS and it is unlikely for a correlation as ham-fisted as “apple = apology” to show up. Perhaps I simply put too much trust into Koogi’s ability as a literary creator?

No, because there are other reasons too. Firstly, I doubt Sangwoo has ever meant an apology in his life. Second, the panels where the apples pop up are not in context with a theme of apology. Most importantly, however, there was too much emphasis on the apples’ colour. If the metaphor Koogi was going for was so plebeian as “Have an apple; I’m sorry I raped you,” then why bother emphasising the colour so much? Is Sangwoo that sorry? Of course not! As will be further expanded upon, the apples’ alluring colour is emphasised in order to contrast with their subpar taste. There’s no reason to make the symbolism so nuanced if it was something for as common as an apology.

Aside: Upon disregarding those two explanations, my first thought actually jumped to the idea of apple representing death. (And I could make an argument for Sangwoo being an agent of death, meaning I might not actually be that far off the mark.) My second thought was the apple representing falsehood and deception, which sort of ties into the final verdict, for which I shall pass back to the blog’s owner~

Hello! Yoonicidal here again to explain to you my theory of what the apples actually mean! Alright, let’s get to the good stuff.

This was the scene that first tipped me off. 

As rapidratkiller stated before, the apple’s red colour is emphasised a lot, and red is often used for blood or violence but Koogi’s symbolism isn’t this, dare I say, cheap. 

I was researching about red apples and it only took me a few minutes to come across why exactly red apples are so popular.

Turns out red apples (a specific kind of apple, later named ”Red Delicious” as it is known now) became very popular in the early 1900s after it was exhibited in America. Over the next two decades, $750,000 was spent to promote the new apple, dispatching traveling salesmen to numerous farms- surpassing the previously most widely planted Ben Davis apple. 

By the 1940s, Red Delicious apples were incredibly popular solely because of how they looked, right around the Golden Age of Hollywood where looks and glamor mattered the most.

And of course, trying to make a profit of this, the apples were bred to be redder, more flawless, beautiful, but these genes were favoured over taste because the consumer didn’t care about that. The apple became a fruit with pretty yet tough, bitter exterior and mushy, too sweet inside. Shoppers were eating with their eyes, not mouths. 

“Still, by the 1980s, the Red Delicious made up 75 percent of the crop produced in Washington. By the time selective breeding had taken its toll, according to Burford, a few big nurseries controlled the market, planting decisions were made from the remove of boardrooms, and consumers didn’t have many varieties to choose from. The Red Delicious became “the largest compost-maker in the country,” he said, as shoppers routinely bought the apples and threw them away.” (x)

So shoppers, even though they knew they would throw it away, kept buying the apple because it looked pretty to them, it was alluring, their brain got constantly tricked into thinking the apple was as and good and tasty on the inside as it looked on the outside.

Hmm, a thing that people keep mistaking is good because it looks good on the outside but is terrible on the inside...where have I heard this before?

Looking back at the panels above, now we can say...was Sangwoo talking about himself? The apple is red and delicious looking because it’s young, just like how he looks innocent and handsome because he is youthful. 

So Sangwoo wasn’t emphasising that the apple was red for any kind of symbolism, he was emphasising that the apples are “too red”. They are fake. Like him. They are just for show, they are genetically engineered to trick people into thinking they are delicious just like how Sangwoo acts a certain way to trick people into thinking they can trust him. 

I’ll take this further with some examples. 

Let’s first compare how people react to the apples:

Sangwoo’s Mother:

Sangwoo’s mother takes the apple an instantly loves it. We already know that the apples don’t taste good, but his mother does not even notice. She is instantly, unhesitatingly and unconditionally loving the apple...much like how she loves Sangwoo.

“She couldn’t be in her right mind. No sane person would’ve...” loved him like that. Loved anything unwaveringly like that, even though it was obviously “bad” or rotten. It doesn’t even matter if his mother fully knew how Sangwoo was on the inside, because Sangwoo knew.  

Sangwoo’s mother is not even smiling in the panel, so maybe he just feels that his mother loved the apple because he makes him try it, because he feels it’s a precious moment between them and he remembers it like that, because he thinks his mother loves things unconditionally, like how he feels she loves her.

Yoon Bum:

I still think this look is not Yoon Bum not liking the apple, because he is nodding and there is no hesitation. I think this is him being shocked by the taste of it, or him being surprised how much he likes the apple. It’s been quite a while since Yoon Bum had anything not completely unprocessed or canned, let alone fruit. He is deprived, so of course he likes it...much like of course he likes the attention Sangwoo gives him, of course he likes Sangwoo no matter how he is on the inside, because he hasn’t had anything resembling “food” in a long time in his life. He is starved for anything he can get his hands on. He’ll cherish the apple, not caring how it tasted, because now he has something to eat, something that looks pretty and is meant to be delicious.  

Old Couple:

It’s not a secret that the old couple thinks Sangwoo is good, charming young man. Hell, the reason they stop to actually talk to him in the first place is because he looks like a decent young man. They would never have stopped if Sangwoo didn’t look so proper and put together, if the car wasn’t a decent one. If a person who looked nearly homeless crashed a car that looked old and cheap, nobody would have stopped to help him. 

The woman is simply charmed by his looks and the way he speaks, unable to see beyond Sangwoo’s outer shell of handsomeness and smooth talking- something Sangwoo relies on heavily. A simple and polite please from someone like him to a woman he is much older and probably feeling unattractive at this point in her life, coming to terms with her age, maybe he reminds her of her son, yadda yadda yadda, you know the situation.  

However, when they get a chance to try the apple, they notice things aren’t as they seem... Paralleling to this:

Right after Sangwoo makes a joke that would usually be well received (boy does this dude love mocking jokes) he makes this face that suddenly threatens the older couple instead of pairing his words completely with a laughing and happy face to emphasise the joking nature of his words. It’s a glimpse of his inside and instantly, the couple reacts badly to it, just like they did with the apple. 

Actually right before the please panel, Sangwoo grabs the woman’s wrist so she won’t call the police, and that’s why he actually says please, to charm her back into his web after she was surprised by his aggressive action. Even after, Sangwoo remains polite and smiling- but not when he’s telling him to “be careful”, a sentence that can be thought of in many ways. That’s where Sangwoo drops the act, he doesn’t need the couple anymore, so he doesn’t need to act polite either. 

Now I know what you are thinking. “But yoonicidal, what about this panel then? Isn’t it meant to represent death or apology or sin here because he buries his parents there and is getting ready to bury Jieun here???”

No.

If I’m right about the apple x Sangwoo comparison, this is actually a really clever trick and it may even mean the exact opposite! 

Sangwoo just had a moment remembering his parents. A rare an emotional moment, making him appeal to the audience, making him relatable. He spent a lot of time thinking about his mom. He even had a moment thinking about his dad and being angry and displeased that Yoon Bum “stepped on him”.

But then, what do we see? Sangwoo putting down an apple. It may mean one of four things:

-if I'm not right about the comparison-

It’s Koogi showing us how Sangwoo views this “ceremony” something that is significant to him, tying it to tie it perhaps to the way he buried his mother.

OR 

It’s Koogi showing us Sangwoo leaving the apple behind, but saying he’s coming back. It’s to symbolise his (very unsuccessful) attempts of leaving his mother behind for short periods of time and filling that gap with Bum instead. 

OR

-If I am right about the comparison-

It’s Koogi telling us that despite his appearance and how we see from the outside, Sangwoo still has emotions inside that are very mixed up. He still has feelings about the whole thing, he still remembers. Maybe it is meant to signify some sort of insecurity he has about the situation despite how composed and confident he looks. 

OR

It’s Koogi telling us to not get fooled like everyone else gets fooled by how Sangwoo seems, how he acts, what he says. It’s her telling us that Sangwoo may look a certain way, but what he is planning on the inside may be much different. It’s sort of a pace breaker, a little image to remind us who exactly we are dealing with here. 

Bonus (because I love you guys so much):

Omg meta cannibalism.

So Sangwoo made himself bleed, with something that represented himself. He was showing a rare moment of emotion, remembering his mother and perhaps how she made her feel like he could be vulnerable and still be loved. This shows his insecurities, supports how he also views himself as “bad” sometimes. It may show he can be self-destructive, but even a very small representation of that freaks him out very very much because he isn’t used to it

It may also show that thinking about his mother makes him have uncontrollable emotions that he has a very hard time handling and does so very poorly. He doesn’t know how to really process the emotions, even though it’s such a small and little glimpse that people deal with on an everyday basis. 

Sangwoo’s life is so together and pristine, everything in his life is clean, organised, controlled, so something like this that he he can’t help, a small leak of his destruction...feels like an unending and uncontrollable torrent of blood gushing down his face. 

And what is his solution, when there are no tissues? He wants Yoon Bum to lick it. Because when the usual solution doesn’t work, when he can’t fix it, when things are getting out of hand, he relies on Yoon Bum’s submission to him to put things back, to make himself good, great again. Yoon Bum doesn’t mind the inside of the apple, and this is why Sangwoo is trying to replicate devotion with him, ordering him to clean him. 

Sangwoo makes Bum lick his wounds and toput him back together, helping him cover up so he can be a perfect and shiny, delicious looking red apple again. 

Special thanks to: @rapidratkiller and @bracari-iris for this amazing collab <3

[madforhoran]

[1] wah I saw your post about taking prompts too late! how d'you feel about doing an ace!harry falling in love with niall, fretting at first bc niall's not ace, but then finding out that niall's a regular participant in masturbation contests [and is actually the champ], and finds sex too taxing bc of all the practice he does, so the sex is actually not an issue bet. them. ace!harry being the most supportive bf ever, even timing niall for his record [longest wank sesh ever] and niall just amazed

[2] that he managed to find someone who never judged him for doing those stupid contests, and is in fact super supportive asjkjh sorry this idea's been floating around in my head for a while now, and I just don't have the skills to write it myself

sorry this took me a bit longer to finish!!! 

Harry thinks Niall's the prettiest person he's ever seen. It was love at first sight, or more like love at first smile, at least from Harry’s perspective. Niall can do no wrong, in other words, he's almost perfect, but there’s one huge downside of having him as a roommate.

He regularly participates in a wanking contest.

Yeah, you heard right. It was quite hard to keep a straight face when Niall once explained the rule to him. Who wanks for the longest time, wins… and Niall is at the top of the leaderboard. No wonder that their bin is always full of tissues and used lube. Harry doesn't judge him, though. He just doesn't understand what’s so special about it. He’s never been into the whole masturbation thing. He's never been interested in having sexual relationships either. He hasn't even had his first kiss yet.

However, more often than not, he keeps dreaming about kissing Niall. Gently, tenderly. Niall just looks so…inviting and soft. The problem is that he surely won’t be interested in someone like Harry, no way.

Except, Harry is wrong.

*

Friday night he's done with his classes and walks back to his dorm, craving for the delicious chicken salad that is sitting in the mini fridge. Surprisingly, their room is not locked, and he finds Niall fiddling with something on the small coffee table between their beds. There’s also a distinct candle scent in the air, which is more than alarming. Something weird is happening. Niall's probably waiting for his date to come or something. But why hasn't he warned him beforehand? Rude. To be honest, Harry doesn't want to see anyone touch Niall.

“Haz!” Niall yelps when he notices his arrival, “you’re a bit early.”

“Sorry, I can leave. You should've told me you need the room for yourself, though,” Harry says a bit bitterly. Fuck, where’s this coming from?

“Don’t be silly. I was waiting for you. Today is special, ya know? I broke the record!” Niall announces proudly and wraps Harry in a bear hug. “And I also wanted to thank you.”

“F-for what?” Harry stammers, shocked by the proximity of their bodies which should be uncomfortable, but it’s Niall after all. Niall is like a beautiful fairy prince, art in human form, and Harry should be thankful for sharing the breathing air with him.

"For not hating me for what I do. I know having me as a roommate is a bit of a pain in the arse."

Harry shakes his head. "It's not, Ni," he assures him, taking a deep breath as Niall steps away. Then he notices there's food and drinks on the coffee table. His favourite apple cider, Niall's favourite beer, the chicken salad, and pasta with chicken and broccoli.

Niall shrugs, gesturing towards the intimate setup that pretty much looks like a dinner date. "Anyway, let's eat, I'm sure you're hungry."

"You didn't have to do this," Harry smiles, a hint of pink creeps on his cheeks just because Niall is the loveliest, sweetest person despite his uncommon hobby.

"I wanted to," Niall opposes, fidgets...he's nervous, Harry thinks. He doesn't comment on it further, doesn't pry. They eat in silence, stealing glances from each other and after dinner when Harry volunteers to clean the dishes, he feels a soft press of lips against the back of his neck. It's almost feathery-like and it makes him shiver. He doesn't turn, though, and Niall's fine with it, so it seems.

*

It's becoming more regular, the touches...and Harry likes the simplicity of it...as if Niall knew Harry isn't into much else. Those touches and tender kisses, against his temple, or on his shoulder, or on his knuckles are pure, beautiful. Nevertheless, Harry is curious to know whether Niall really knows. They never spoke about these things.

Maybe Niall suspects something as Harry never really brought anyone to their room, or ask Niall if he could join the wank-contest. Too many wondering and maybes are making Harry’s head spin and the easiest way is to finally talk to Niall before he gets too caught up in the sweet emotions.

“Haz?” Niall interrupts his thoughts as he stands up from his bed. “Scoot over,” he commands and Harry moves somehow on autopilot, and makes a bit of space for Niall.

The boy snuggles up to him, warming him up, it’s overwhelming. Harry needs to say it, before he completely messes it all up. “Ni, you need to know something.”

“What is it, pet?”

“I’m—I’m ace,” Harry breathes out. That split second of waiting for a reaction seems to last for ages.

“Huh?” Niall lifts his head, his curious blue eyes piercing through Harry’s entire being.

“I don't like sex, I don't wanna have sex either,” Harry explains in a low voice as his throat tightens. “N-not even with you, even though you're the most beautiful thing and I love you.”

Shit, he didn't mean to say that!

Niall chuckles and Harry frowns. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, pet. You announced like it was the most horrifying little secret of yours. Something to be ashamed of. I don't judge. Actually, we’re a perfect couple because the competition always leaves me completely drained, so I always want to just cuddle afterwards. Hopefully, this won’t offend you in some way, but the day I won I—I imagined you. I mean, I always do. Imagine you. It keeps me going. So you don't have to worry, I’m perfectly satisfied thanks to my vivid imagination. I like it like this if you don't mind, of course. I don't want you to be uncomfortable or anything.”

Harry is rendered speechless for a moment, trying to process whether this is a dream or reality. Niall's thumb drawing circles on his hip tells him it’s all pretty much real. “What exactly do you imagine?” he says in a shaky voice, strangely intrigued. Niall laughs out loud this time, the lovely crinkles forming around his eyes, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Yeah, he's perfect, Harry thinks. Then Niall starts describing all the fantasies in intricate detail and Harry listens, smiling and giggling because Niall makes all the things filthy sound so wonderful.

Later that night, he promises not to go any further than Harry’s limit. There's one fantasy he can recreate…and funnily enough, it’s Harry’s fantasy too.

The tender kisses Niall's been giving him recently are now tingling all over his hips, stomach, and inner thighs, as Niall's mouth travels over his body. For Harry, it feels like heaven, and Niall is the angel.

* * *

“I love you too,” Niall whispers before drifting to sleep.