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lo1k-diamonds · 1 year ago

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Bubbles 💜 (Part 2)

SX Seoul Series | Jungkook's Entry

PAIRING: Jungkook/Reader (You can also read it on AO3)

SUMMARY: You wake up the next morning and feelings you didn't want to stir are brought back to the surface. You think he might feel the same way but maybe you jumped to conclusions too soon.

WORD COUNT: 8.3k

GENRE: Exes to lovers, smuuuuuut, angst, making up

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: exes, explicit, unprotected sex (stay safe!), you guys fight and stuff gets punched and thrown around, lingering feelings, heartbreak, second chances

PARTS: [1] [2]

A.N. I wrote this story after a while of being unable to focus and write so I hope you enjoy it, I think it turned out fun :)

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You woke up in the morning, yet despite the sun’s rays hitting the floor, you couldn't be certain. Were you truly waking up?

You sighed and pressed yourself further back into a welcoming chest. The sheets had a familiar scent, and this along with the tattooed arm enveloping you and the breath fanning your hair made you sure that you were still dreaming. You moved ever so slightly, you wanted to submerge deeper into that dream, and his legs tangled with yours even better as if to tell you you were not going anywhere. It melted you because it reminded you of so many mornings before. So many dawns and sunsets where you’d be tucked in safely inside those arms, with his hum near your ear, his perfume trickling your nose, and you took deep breaths. That was your safety net, the place you rushed to so you could recover, rest, and gain the courage to face the world.

It was enough for you to search for even more. You were sleepy, dreaming, and on the only fluffy cloud in the sky where you wanted to be. So you turned under his arm to face him and your heart instantly trembled. His eyes were closed, but the soft lines of his face were the sweetest thing you had ever seen. You missed those pouty lips, that round cutesy nose, and the swell of those cheeks you used to tease all the time and that made you fall in love whenever delicate dimples would crease. His eyebrows had always been so expressive and now one had a piercing, which didn’t match the two rings adorning his lower lip except that he pierced the same side of his face. But even that didn’t surprise you; when you first met, he said he always wanted to do something, but didn’t know exactly what. You guessed he had figured it out.

You reached to brush his hair aside and felt the two studs on his eyebrow with a feather-like touch — you liked it. You liked everything about him, always had. You knew then your heart was getting loud and you smirked when it became deafening — because he opened his eyes. And in that moment, you decided that reality would only come knocking if you let it. You could pretend it didn’t exist. You could pretend Jungkook was still yours, that he didn’t hate you, that you belonged in his arms again.

You leaned in to nuzzle him and gave him a moment to move away. You were clear — you wanted to go on that ride again and forget everything else, but what about him?

He brushed his nose to yours once and captured your lips with a kiss that fluttered your heart. It wasn’t desperate or crude, it was gentle and warm like when two lovers said good morning. And that was all you needed.

You snuggled closer, embracing him and stretching and sighing in multiple turns. He returned your kiss and held you close, equally invested in that moment with you, away from any pain, anger, or subterfuge. This made you smile, contentment radiating from every corner of you, and it was as if you were in an alternate dimension. You could feel his love again and adore him back and you wanted to make the best of it.

Maybe it seemed against your better judgment, but you broke your kiss with a mischievous smile and turned your back on him. You pulled his arm firmer around you, in case he had silly ideas, and rubbed your ass on his crotch for good measure. The Jungkook you knew didn’t need any explanations or instructions, and indeed, he grabbed you close, grinding his hardening dick on your ass while breathing in the scent of your skin.

His hand came to cup your breast gently and you grinned, feeling elated with the way he was all over you. When he started playing with your nipple to harden it, you bit your lower lip and failed to contain your whimpers. He knew you were sensitive but it never stopped him before.

He started biting and licking down your neck and you were covered in goosebumps, arching your back to give him better access. He kept his sweet torture, but that wasn’t enough for you — you reached between your legs to grab his hard cock behind you and pull it to be squished between your thighs when you closed them. Then you rocked your hips and melted at the groan behind you.

“That’s it,” you cooed in a whisper, clenching around nothing in anticipation. “You’re so hard for me.”

You knew he loved to be coaxed, the same way you loved to tell him how good he felt. He wasn’t stopping, nibbling down your skin and pinching your nipple gently as he rutted you and you bit your lip.

“And I’m so ready for you,” you sighed. “Wont you check?”

Your tone was needy but you never bothered hiding it. His hand travelled from your chest to your core and instantly felt how you were dripping from your folds.

You whimpered, “See how you slide so well?” You meant at the surface, but his fingers sank into your flesh, pumping wet sounds out of you along with needy moans. “Fuck— You know where to go. You’ll feel so good, I promise.”

You felt his smile on your skin as he busied himself pumping you with two digits and getting juicy noises out of you. You moaned onto the pillow, rocking your hips to feel him better both inside you and in between your legs. You loved those sensations, not just the pleasure, but the scent reaching your nose because you were in his bed. You were living a dream and it was absolutely perfect.

His hand grabbed your hip, knowing well you were leaning forward and tilting your ass so he’d eventually slip inside you. The way he was making you crazy for it didn’t elude you, but you were never beyond begging.

“Fuck, baby. Please let me have you, please.”

He froze and you squirmed to feel him, thinking that was him just making you work harder for him.

He moved quickly enough that you didn’t think beyond it — he reached behind him inside a nightstand drawer and got something. You heard the wrap tearing and waited until he was ready. You didn’t let a single thought cross your mind, not now.

He grabbed your hip again and this time his cock pushed between your folds to get inside you, making you moan and lose all strength. He rocked his hips into yours and you gasped, leaning back. You didn’t expect him to grab your hair and arch you further, but you definitely tensed more around him, barely able to catch your breath.

“Fuck— Fuck, I love it when you do this.”

You could feel his breath down your neck. “Yeah? Love it whenever a guy fucks you like this?”

“No, only you.” Your reply was as natural as breathing, giving him all you had. “Always only you.” You were burning inside out, feeling flush not only on your cheeks but also on your chest, hands, and stomach. You reached to grip his arm supporting your hip in place; you were starting to get sweaty but you doubted he minded. You were just looking for more ways to connect with him. “Are you going to tease me? Make me a good girl for you? I always loved to be good so I could earn you filling me up completely.”

His hips jerked off tempo and you only sighed. He remembered for sure what you were talking about.

His fingers dug at your skin, “Yeah? How many times have you begged for a guy’s cum after that?”

“Never. You’re the only one I ever begged to, the only cum I ever wanted. The only raw cock inside me, the only—”

He stopped and pushed you by the shoulder to face him. You were a bit startled but faced him with all the vulnerability you had been showing so far. His eyes were glistening, almost hurt, and your breath shook. You didn’t want that reality, the one in which you hurt him. You wanted to be back a year before when everything was good and sweet.

His eyes were watering up and he looked down. You thought he was running away from you and you were desperate for him to stay, and you looked down too. Before you could speak, you noticed he had his hand around the base of his cock, just frozen like that.

You teared up, “Do it.”

He looked up at you and you saw tears in his eyes as well.

You smiled, “I never had anyone other than you raw. If you want to, I’d love to feel you again.”

He didn’t even blink. You were certain it was an impulse as you saw him pull the condom out and guide himself inside you as if he were a dying man and your core was his salvation. But as you both groaned and closed your eyes with the feeling of being connected again, you couldn’t care. You looked at him with a tear sliding down your face into the pillow and knew that it would all just break your heart in the end.

He must have known it too, because his eyes were glistening and red as he thrust into you at a slower pace. You instantly wanted to beg, but he gripped you closer, jerking his hips into you in a hard yet loving way that melted you to the bone.

“Fuck,” you dragged, trying to look up so you could see him above your legs still bent to the side like when you were spooning. You could feel him all over you again, inside and out in ways that felt like your souls were merging and it had you enter that beautiful reverie. You gripped his arm harder and forced his hand on your chest to squeeze as you moved with him. “Don’t stop. Please, please, please,” you said with every moan, scared that he would pull away and leave you. “Only you feel like this, please.”

“Only me?”

He was breathless, you almost didn’t hear him over your prayers. “Only you,” you confirmed, then you trembled and the words dripped out of your mouth. “I’ve missed you so much. So much,” your voice smothered with anxiety, with the tears flowing from your eyes that you squinted shut.

You didn’t fear that he would reject you or mock you or ignore you, you weren’t thinking. Your heart was hurting and you couldn’t keep it in anymore.

He slowed down and you hid your face under your hands, immediately wanting to ask him not to stop when you felt his breath near your ear.

“Me too. I’ve missed you too, bubbles.” His voice was wavering as he reached to kiss every inch of skin in range, soon after releasing his hand from your grasp only to grab it back and bring it to his lips. “I’ve missed everything. I’ve missed this.”

A sob almost silenced you, but you managed to call for him first, “Kook.”

It was a desperate sound you were almost ashamed to let out, so your hands instantly covered your face again.

He stopped and in a second was pulling your leg under him so he could get on top of you in between your legs and hold you tightly. He leaned down to kiss your hands away as his hips rocked into you gently.

His lips and calls convinced you to uncover your face only to wrap your arms around him and hide in his neck, “I miss you!” You whispered with a lump in your throat. “Please.”

He kissed your red and wet cheeks, down to the salty traces that led into your hairline, “I miss you too.”

Shivers ran down your body as his words emerged a knot of feelings from inside your chest. You were never able to face it, to deal with it, to forgive him or yourself, but his words. The way he was with you, holding you close just like he used to when he loved you. His body was fully connected to yours, maybe even his soul.

You sank your nails onto his back and focused on his weight on you, his soft skin, his scent, and the burning tension in your lower stomach. You knew you would explode soon but you needed to let it out.

“I wanted to see you.”

He kissed your head, “I’m here.”

“I needed to see you,” you tried, but the pleasure sparking inside you was about to steal that chance. So you hugged him closer — a moan was pushed out of you and you could feel your orgasm starting, but you still chirped, “I love—”

You couldn’t finish as you started shaking uncontrollably from the waves of pleasure tensing and relaxing every muscle in your body. You clung on to him, squeezing him so tightly you were surprised he didn’t didn’t break apart. But maybe he didn’t for the same reason as you — he was holding you together.

He waited for you to be done before pulling out and coming over your belly. He didn’t bother separating your bodies and just groaned near your ear as you hugged him close. You could feel the warm substance trickling down the sides of your stomach but you didn’t care. You were never one to be bothered, you were not disgusted by him in the slightest.

He kissed your head and you smiled, waiting and longing for his kiss to travel to your cheeks, then further to your mouth. You tried to control your happiness and kiss him back placatingly, still letting that joy reach corners of you that were dim otherwise.

When he pulled away, you had no idea what would happen, but you were at ease. Because you opened up to him and he missed you back, and even though you weren’t able to tell him properly that you still loved him, you’d surely have another opportunity soon.

That was what you thought and the reason your lips were curved, even when he got away from you to grab wipes so he could clean you. Yet as he did, you noticed he wasn’t looking at you. His jaw was hardening and he didn’t look nearly half as relaxed as you did.

Shit.

He wasn’t done yet when you tried to reach for his hand, but he dodged you and threw the wipe away before putting his legs out of the bed to sit with his back to you. You started shaking.

“Not to ruin your post-nut clarity, but I’d like to talk.”

You chuckled nervously and fumbled with the sheet — everything you said felt risky, and every step you took felt like the ice under you would crack. You feared speaking too soon but couldn’t risk doing it too late. You let those fears drown you once, but not again. At least this time your mistake would be insisting, not letting it slide.

“Nothing to talk about.”

You knew from his tone that he was about to push you away and it made you react. “That’s not true. I said I miss you, and you said it back.”

He didn’t answer; all you could see were his wide shoulders as he leaned forward, supported on his knees, and kept quiet.

You gave him the chance to speak his mind because maybe he needed time and who knew, maybe you did too. But you couldn’t think as you waited, you had no idea what to say. Nothing felt enough, but you wanted to say everything.

He heaved a deep breath and moved a millimeter to get up, and you immediately pushed. “Answer me. Talk to me. Why can’t we have a conversation?”

He scoffed, “That’s rich coming from you.”

You sat up as he got up and searched for clothes in a nearby closet. “It goes both ways.”

You bit your tongue and cursed yourself for reacting instead of thinking first — you didn’t want to fight, you wanted to talk.

You took a deep breath and spoke while he put a pair of boxers on, “Do you miss me?”

He scoffed and left the room and you jumped off the bed after him. You could only grab the nearest tee shirt you saw, black as everything else he owned, and scurried after him.

“Answer me,” you insisted, seeing him in the living room putting pants on. Where did those even come from? “Fucking hell, Jungkook, just answer me!”

“What?!” He exploded, anger brazen on his features, but you didn’t step back.

“Do you really miss me?”

“No.”

You raised your chin and tried to not give away how your heart was cracking further. You couldn’t think or you’d start crying. “Well, fuck you too.” Your voice still wavered, “Don’t fucking lie next time.”

You turned to reach the bathroom and get your clothes so you could leave. Your heart was pulsating with sharp pain and you knew you were seconds away from crying. You needed to get out. Now.

“You’re assuming I—”

“Yeah yeah, no seconds,” you spat bitterly, unsure if he heard you. He shut up, so he did. You grabbed your clothes, “You don’t have to worry about that.”

A sudden noise from behind you startled you so before you could strip, you turned around — he had kicked the bathroom door with so much strength you thought it might have popped off.

“What the fuck do you want from me?!”

“How many times do I have to say it? A fucking conversation!”

“I have nothing to say to you!”

“Fine! You’ll lie anyway!”

You turned your back to him, letting the poisonous anger burn your guts while you got a hang of your dress so you could put it on.

When a loud noise came from the door again, you weren’t even surprised. This time, he punched it and something metal hopped over the floor and rolled away.

“As if you didn’t say those things in the spur of the moment!”

“I didn’t.” Tears ran down your face and you cleaned them quickly, refusing to let the cry take over you. “I meant every word I said.”

“Bullshit,” his voice had so much contempt you almost broke down.

“I don’t care what you believe,” was all you said, then took the tee off. “Just because you lied doesn’t mean I did.”

He saw how your back bent and tensed while you put your strapless bra on. He was shaking in anger but he heard you sniffle and you didn’t sound like you were mocking him. He couldn’t handle it if it was true.

“Don’t joke around—”

“I’m not fucking joking.” You sounded angry now and you grabbed your dress to put it on. He clenched his fists. “But it doesn’t matter, it’s done.”

You put your strapless dress back on, adjusting it so it would cover you as much as possible. You had no way of seeing how angry he was getting at the sight of you wearing that again instead of his clothes, but it was something he would never admit.

“You want me to believe you wanted to see me?”

His voice was derisive and you turned to him. “I did.”

“That you needed to see me?”

He scoffed and you grabbed your heels on the floor. “I did.”

You turned back to him, thinking that maybe now you could actually talk, but he was shaking his head. You saw tears in his eyes before he started laughing and rubbing his face.

“It’s funny, is it?” You asked, filled with contempt yourself. “Why, you didn’t even hit the punchline yet.”

He uncovered his face and his whole expression was a warning.

“What?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. “If you’re going to mock me then at least do it well.”

His jawline was tensing again but you couldn’t care anymore.

“Come on, where’s the final question? You heard me. You would be running your mouth if you didn’t.” You scoffed, “Though I couldn’t really say it properly, but—”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

For a second you thought he was scared, but you only smirked, “I don’t? You know what? You’re right. Congratulations, you’re right about something and all you had to do was be an asshole.” You stepped towards him to get out but he didn’t move out of the way. “Let me go.”

He shook his head and you ignored all kinds of emotions on his face.

You pushed him, but he didn’t move. “Let me go.”

“No.”

You pushed his shoulders again, but he didn’t budge. You clenched your jaw, upset, and saw that it didn’t bother him in the slightest. In fact, maybe he liked it. You pushed him once more and he tried grabbing your arms, and you struggled.

He won — he grabbed your forearms, “What did you say?” You scoffed and he pulled you closer. “Tell me what was I supposed to have heard?”

“I said I—”

You were ready to spit it in his face but your throat blocked as you looked into his eyes. You were both angry and hurt, and you thought you were above it, but you weren’t. If you said it again, it would hurt infinitely more. But then it hit you — he just used you. He was attracted to you and wanted an easy fuck, and that was what that night was. You were hung up on him like a moron.

Your eyes teared up but you made a decision — it would be easier if he just crushed your heart right now.

“I said I love you.”

He released his hold on you instantly as if you burned and you scoffed. You guessed you did — this Jungkook in front of you clearly couldn’t handle something like that. He was a fuckboy now.

You pushed him again and he didn’t resist, falling to the side and letting you pass. You started looking around — you couldn’t recall where you had thrown your purse.

“I said don’t joke around.”

His voice was barely above a whisper and you didn’t stop. You were throwing sofa pillows around, “And I said I’m not joking. And I don’t lie either, contrary to you.”

“You have no idea what you’re saying.”

You pulled your hair back with a sigh; it wasn’t on the couch. “You’re starting to sound like a broken record.” You continued looking around, maybe in the kitchen? “What does it matter anyway? I get it — why you lied. I was being emotional and you wanted an easy fuck.” You huffed; not there either. “You got it, so you want me to leave now, right? Don’t worry, I want to, I just can’t find—”

He roared and punched something that made the coat hanger fall to the floor. “You talk and talk and talk but you still don’t know what you’re fucking saying!”

You got over your shock quickly and threw your shoes on the floor, “It would help if you fucking talked instead of breaking the place!”

“I can’t fucking talk when you’re driving me insane!”

You scoffed, “Me? Maybe you are just insane.”

He stepped to you with a dangerous look, “Watch your mouth.”

“Why? What will you do?” You rolled your eyes when he only took a deep breath in response. When you looked back at him he was closer and you instantly tensed up, and not in a bad way. He was eying you in that way that had you crazy needy but you stood your ground. “You’re not touching me again.” Your lips pulled in contempt, “Not like you want to. No sloppy seconds, right? So surely no thirds or fourths or—”

He stepped forward, ready to grab you, and you gave him your most disgusted piercing look.

“Don’t touch me. Don’t look at me, don’t even think about using me again.”

You were out of breath, spitting venomous words while your eyes were locked, but in an instant, something wet dripped down your cheeks. You breathed, and instantly you recognized the pain searing your heart. It hurt. It hurt too much.

Your sob had you sucking breaths anxiously and you gave him your back. You didn’t want him to see how much it hurt you.

“I’d never use you.”

“Then why am I here?”

“Because—” He heaved a deep breath. It was complicated and he was so conflicted he wanted to punch something again. But seeing your shoulders move as you contained your sobs, his mind cleared. “Because I wanted to be with you.”

“Right,” you chuckled despite the tears. “Wasn’t fucking in a dark alley enough? Why did you bring me here?”

“To be with you.”

“Say it properly. To fuck.” He didn’t answer and you sucked in a deep breath, “Or maybe… maybe something worse. Not just to use me, did you want to hurt me? Is this some sort of… vengeance or—?”

“No!” He raised his arms to your shoulders but he didn’t touch you. You didn’t want him to.

You grinned but it was painful, “Lying again? Fuck, I never knew you like this.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Bullshit,” you almost laughed despite your crying and sniffling.

“It’s the truth.”

“Why should I believe you?”

He gritted his teeth behind you and gripped his hair in frustration. He was never the best at saying things, he always showed you better. He wished he could turn you around and get that stupid dress off you so he could cover you in his tee shirt again. He wished he could kiss your tears and hold you again like there wasn’t a mountain between you. He wished he could have you lying on his bed again saying those sweet things that shook him to his very core. He wished he could see your smile again as you drank your honey oat milk latte just the way you liked it because he made it for you. Fuck, he wanted that and so much more, but none of it would happen. He still hated you.

“Give me one good reason why you even talked to me back at the club,” you asked, more poised now that you had calmed your sobs and cleaned your cheeks. You turned to face him and he looked almost like he was in pain, but you only blinked your wet lashes. Your nose, eyes, and cheeks were still red but he knew you were crying, there was no point in hiding it.

“You looked beautiful.”

You scoffed, “Right… Beautiful enough to fuck easy, ri—?”

“Stop saying that!” Your assumptions were driving him crazy, but you were persistent.

“Why? Cause you can’t handle the truth?”

“Cause it’s fucking bullshit!” He smacked his fist on his palm, then opened both as if he could shake you to your senses, “You think fucking you is easy? You think wanting you and bringing you here was fucking easy? I gave in! I saw you, you said those things, and I had to have you!”

“You didn’t have to bring me here.”

“No, I didn’t!” He agreed with you and it made him swallow and take a breath from his shouting. “I did it for my own selfish reasons.”

“And what were those? If not to use me, not to hurt me or exact some sort of vengeance,” you enumerated with your fingers perhaps a bit pettily, but you wanted to understand. However, he didn’t seem interested in sharing — he had turned his back on you and stepped away to have space. “Then what for?”

He grunted and rubbed his face harshly before turning to face you, “Why do you complicate everything? I answered you already — to be with you. That’s all.”

You frowned and puffed; for some reason that answer just left you even more unsettled. “That doesn’t make any sense.” He threw his hands in the air and you insisted, “You wanted to be with me? Then why not let me finish blowing you?”

He scoffed and shook his head, “Thought you would have figured it out by now.”

Your frown deepened in anger, but it hit you. “Because… you didn’t want to use me?” His only response was a twitch of his eyebrows. “Then why not let me cum? When you ate me?”

He puffed a breath as his nostrils flared, but he still answered you, “Cause I was pissed.”

“Why?”

“Why?!” Your question made it worse. “Cause you spoke to me like I was nobody!”

Your chin dropped, “What?”

“You spoke like it could have been anyone else eating you and making you crazy and it made me want to tear you apart!”

You were shocked, just looking at him, and it infuriated him even more. He tried his best to keep his cool as he paced the living room — why were you making him feel inadequate? Like he was blowing something out of proportion when it meant so much to him?

“That's— I don't get it,” you tried, confused. “I wanted you to know how good you felt—”

“You called me baby!”

He was shouting again and you blinked, “So?”

“So?!” He kicked the back of his couch. “The most fucking generic term I’ve ever heard! Do you know how many people have called me that? Made me despise them every time!”

“But I've called you that before,” you pointed out, still confused. It was one of your nicknames for each other.

“You called me something else.”

His tone was suddenly sober and you instantly knew what he meant. “Kook.”

“Yes.”

He wouldn’t tell you how much he was hung up on it. He wouldn’t let anyone else call him that, he kicked out any women who tried, and just hearing it from your mouth now gave him goosebumps. It was who he was to you, who he wished he had been for his whole life.

You were just looking at each other while you recalled calling him ‘baby’ in the heat of your shared moments. You never meant it in a general way, you meant it endearingly. But you had called him ‘Kook’ earlier, and remembering it twisted your guts. You sighed and rubbed your eyes for a second — you had decided to crush your heart then and there. You weren’t leaving his place without bloodshed so there was no point in hiding.

“I was scared of calling you that,” you admitted, facing him again despite your fears. “I was scared of exposing myself like that.”

“Well, I did,” his grin was a sneer, but you couldn’t understand. Why would what you called him hurt him if he didn’t care? “So that was like a punch to my gut. Or maybe… maybe you didn't even notice that I—”

“Of course, I fucking noticed,” you blurted out, something akin to desperation on your features. “I noticed and it made me completely lose my mind!”

He leaned forward, gripping the couch’s back, “Not enough to expose yourself to me.”

“I was scared! You still hate me, I was—” Your own words hit you in realization, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. “I was scared.”

He scoffed, “Scared of what?”

“You know what,” you answered, uneasy.

“I do. See why you have no idea what you’re saying? You just blab and assume shit,” he gripped the leather couch and you thought for a moment he could have thrown it around if he wanted to. “The difference between you and me is that I knew who I was choosing.” His features hardened and you fought the urge to look small. “You said you wanted to do this and I took you.”

Your eyebrows twitched, “You’re trying to say I didn’t? Please,” you rolled your eyes. “Because I didn’t call you Kook sooner? You know better than that. I walked up to you, spoke to you, told you I wanted to be with you, came here with you, told you no one is like you, that I missed you, that no one makes me—” You huffed and bit your lip; you weren’t sure about saying any more than you already had.

His eyes were glistening but his grin was almost cruel. “You don’t look so scared now.”

You frowned for a moment before you raised your chin, “No, I guess I’m not. I was until you embraced me this morning and I thought—” Your lips twitched. “But that was fake,” his eyes snapped to yours and you stood still, “right? You lied. You never missed me, so what does it matter if you called me bubbles?” You scoffed but your eyes were filling with tears again, “Why call me that if you never meant it?” You shrugged, “I have nothing to fear anymore. It’s all fucked, I don’t think it can hurt more than this.”

His jaw was clenching hard while you spoke and he walked around. You thought he looked like a ticking timebomb with his biceps rhythmically reacting to his fists opening and closing.

“Well, I fucking wish it did,” he said. “It seems like nothing I do can hurt you, can it?”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m fucking serious!”

“Do I not look hurt to you?!”

“I want you to hurt at least a fraction of what it hurts me!” He punched the couch, but your watering eyes only hurt him more. “But all I managed to do was hurt myself even more!”

“You’re hurt?” You couldn’t hide your skepticism.

“What do you think?! Fuck, you’re so fucking selfish you can’t see anything in front of your nose!”

You crossed your arms over your chest, “Happens with liars. It’s hard to distinguish—”

“Shut up!” He turned to you and you squeezed your arms for comfort. “What does it matter if I missed you? If every fucking word out of my mouth was the truth and I called you bubbles because of what you fucking mean to me? Look at you!” You were shaking now with welled-up eyes. “Acting like a fucking abandoned puppy! You left!”

“What?”

“You left! You were the one who left!”

Your heart shook and you became pale, “That was— You mean—?”

“Yes!”

“But— You—” You were so confused. “You knew I’d leave!”

“What the fuck does that matter?! You said no and you left!”

Your heart instantly halted, “That’s— That’s something else entirely—”

“Yeah, right!” You shook with the venom in his voice. “I was ready, I made my choice, and you broke my heart!”

You were shaking and gripping your hands to soothe yourself, “I wasn’t ready.”

“You said no!”

His tone was accusatory and your chin trembled as you were swamped with old feelings and memories.

Only this time, you took a deep breath and answered back, “Listen to yourself! That day I told you I was going to the US to work for a year and you asked me to marry you! Does that make sense?!”

He had paced to his desk and as soon as you finished, he grabbed his gaming chair and threw it to the ground.

“You said no! You could have said something else! You could have said not yet or let’s talk or— I don’t know, just anything else! But you said no!!”

“Well, fuck, what was I supposed to say?! I had that job opportunity and you were going too fast!”

He sneered, “Fast?”

“Yes, fast! We weren't together for even a year yet!”

“I don't care! I fucking knew I wanted to spend my life with you! And you said no!”

“I said I love you!”

He kicked the chair on the floor, “And it wasn't enough!”

“No, it wasn't!” You stepped forward, wanting to punch something yourself. “Clearly! You’re fucking mad I said no, but what about you?! You fucking dropped off the face of the earth! You knew the dates of my contract, I forwarded the flight information to you, and you never spoke to me again! You didn’t even say goodbye!”

“What goodbye?! What bigger goodbye do you need than rejecting me when I’m on my knees for you?!”

“Stop being so fucking self-centered!” He started laughing, but you were not done. “I said I loved you. I wanted to be with you and you threw a tantrum like a child!”

“A tantrum?” He was still laughing and you’d recognise that bitterness anywhere.

“Be honest,” you breathed. “Would you have come with me?”

His laughter died. “What?”

“You heard me. And if you couldn’t, would you have waited for me?”

His eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights and you let the tears fall from your eyes.

“I never got to ask,” you continued in the silence. “You never answered me again. I always thought that your not answering was your answer. That you never wanted to see me again because if I wouldn’t marry you like you wanted, then you wanted nothing to do with me.”

He finally breathed, “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” You smiled and cleaned your cheeks, “Then why is that the only thing you say? That I said no? I never meant no forever, I never meant that I wouldn’t in the future. But I needed that opportunity to build my career, I needed that sacrifice from you and you turned your back on me.”

“No, I—” His mouth was opening and closing, he couldn’t find the right words. “Because— Because I thought you wanted to just— To just leave me behind.”

“Behind? As if I wasn’t leaving my heart with you? Tell me, did you ever think about asking me? About talking to me?” His lips twitched in hesitation and your lips curved painfully, “Right.”

“I wanted to,” he admitted, but you shook your head in disbelief. “I wanted to but I felt broken. You left me and rejected a future with me, you didn’t want me. What point was there in reaching out to you?”

“I wish you had. Maybe it wouldn’t have worked, but a part of me likes to believe we would have made it. One year was a long time but not the end of the world. For you, I would have done it.”

You nodded and looked at his feet for a moment. None of you would ever know now, but you believed it. You were at peace with at least having voiced that to him.

You looked up at him and saw as clear as day how lost he was. He was gripping his hair with pain across his features, maybe something else. He was still shirtless in front of you, a Greek God in all his glory, yet your eyes couldn’t abandon the soft curls of his hair. Now that everything was out there, you were sort of melancholic. You’d miss him.

“Fuck,” he dragged in a grunt. “Is this what you wanted? To find me again and break me?”

You chuckled, “What the hell are you saying? I never thought I’d see you again. And if I did, I expected to find you married to the woman of your dreams.”

He groaned and rubbed his face before facing you, “You— You’re the woman of my dreams!”

Your lips trembled but you stayed quiet; you had no idea where any of that left you.

“I can’t believe this,” he let out, then scoffed. “No, I’m in too deep now. You could have reached out too. You could have told me all this and asked me before, but instead, you just turned and left. Because you didn’t want me.”

“I called you!”

“For like two days! How long do you think it took to heal my wounded heart?”

“I don’t know! From what I’ve heard, your heart has been more than comforted, you probably healed very fast!”

“Oh fuck off,” he spat with harsh eyes. You regretted letting those feelings surface, but it was too late. “You left me after rejecting me, I was free to do whatever I wanted and screw whoever I pleased.”

“You’re right, forget I said that.”

He laughed, “Nah, that’s just you. Worried about whether I’ve been well-fed or not. Why? Thought that would make it easier?”

“What?”

“I don’t know, to get me crazy again.”

You couldn’t help your lips pulling, “I did drive you crazy.” His eyebrow twitched over a dark gaze and you quickly sobered up. “But that’s not what I meant.”

“You’re fucking incredible, you know that?” He could be spitting those words for all intents and purposes.

“No, I meant that after I called you, I took your silence as—”

“No, no, fuck that. Excuses, all of it. You saw me on my knees and butchered my heart, then left days later for another country. If you cared, you would have done more.”

“You act as if you don’t have arms and legs yourself.”

“And you act like a damsel in distress when you’re anything but,” he had neared you now and you sobered up. “I still hate you, you know.”

Your lips trembled and you looked down with a sour smile. You did realize it, but it didn’t make it any easier. “I know.”

You were focused on mapping your conversation and seeing if there was anything you could tell him that could clarify things when he scoffed.

“No, scratch that.” You looked up and saw him running his hand through his hair. “I fucking hate you and the way you just tried to bring me down to my knees again.”

“I didn’t—!”

“I hate that I brought you here 'cause I wanted to see you here, in my home, as if that could bring back what we once were. I hate that I gave you what you wanted even if it hurt. I hate that I called you bubbles as if you’re still that person. I hate— I fucking hate you, I can’t—”

His voice broke down but you had already heard too much. You couldn’t face him anymore, you were hiding under your hand as your spirit drained in the form of tears.

“I understand.” Your sight was blurry but you knew the way out. You stepped around him, “I’ll leave—”

You weren’t expecting him to grab you and crash his mouth into yours, but you didn’t fight him. You let him kiss you desperately and did the same all while the tears kept streaming down your face.

“Don’t fucking leave,” he whispered to your lips, pressing his forehead to yours. “I can’t stand the thought of you walking out. Not again.”

Your cry was uncontrollable, “But you hate me.”

His hands were firm around your head, not letting you move away, and the only sound you both could hear was you trying to control your sobs. It broke him to see you cry, it always did. He didn’t know what to do. No matter how hard he tried, there was this poison inside him that gushed out every time. It was all breaking apart again, and he wanted everything to go to hell, but looking at you, he knew that wasn’t true.

You sniffled, “If you hate me and I love you then we're not on the same page.”

His heart shook like his world could crumble at any moment. “Don't leave.”

“I have to,” you grabbed his arms and accepted it. “So you can find the woman of your dreams.”

“You’re the woman of my dreams.”

You chuckled sadly, “You hate me, Kook. You’ll find someone better, trust me.”

“No, I don’t want anyone else.”

You brushed his cheek, committing that sweet touch to memory. “You’ll be happy. It’s okay.”

“No,” he gripped you firmly, wrapping his arms around your waist instead. “Don’t leave.”

“Why would I stay?”

“Because I don’t hate you. I can’t,” his voice trembled with tears that didn’t flow down his cheeks, but down yours. “I hate myself for not being able to, for pretending, for even trying when I’m so—”

His voice blocked and you reached for him. “Say it… Please say it, don’t hold back,” your plea shook in your voice and you gripped his shoulders tighter. “If you don’t say it, then I won't know what to believe anymore—”

“Fuck,” he closed his eyes, fighting to the last moment all those conflicting emotions within him. But then you nuzzled his nose, holding him closer. Waiting. You weren’t leaving this time until everything was said and done, and he almost burst it out. “I can’t. I can’t hate you, I love you. I could never forget you but you left me behind and I fucking hated everything. Because I love you, because I lost you, because I was lost and I still am. What the fuck do I do?”

“I’m here.”

“No, you’re not.” He moved away and forced himself to take a deep breath. He turned to you, “You’ll walk out again. I fucked up. We fucked up, but I fucked up. Right? I spent a year trying to hate you, loathing myself for not being good enough. For being so sure you were the one while you discarded me so easily like I was worthless, but I never bothered to hear your side. I never bothered to ask you. You broke my heart… but I broke yours too.”

Your chin was trembling, but you didn’t near him. He seemed to need the space.

“I’m sorry.” He hid his face at your words and your tears treaded down again. “I’m so sorry if I hurt you, I was stupid and immature, and you’re right. I knew my heart was staying here with you, I should have tried to reach out and make it clearer. I knew I hurt you, and after I left, I knew you'd hate me. I should have gotten over myself and told you how I felt anyway. Then maybe I wouldn’t have tried to look for you in everyone else or stayed hung up on thoughts of you and—” He chuckled but it was laced with pain and you shook your hands, “No, I’m not blaming you!”

“I know,” he revealed his face, with red swollen eyes, and wet cheeks. “I’m blaming myself. I spent so long trying to hate you, blaming you for everything under the sun in stupid attempts to make it hurt less. I’m an idiot. And an asshole. Look at how I treated you. I can’t face you without hating my fucking stupidity—”

“Ours,” you stepped forward, hesitant to touch him but with your hands raised nonetheless. “If you want to hate something, then—”

He grabbed your hand and pulled you in, “I won’t pretend to hate you anymore.”

“Then don’t hate yourself either,” you asked as he took your hand to his lips.

“I’ll try… since it’s you asking.”

Your lips trembled into a smile at the way he was gently brushing his lips to your hand. “I’m happy we talked about it. I’m happy to hear that you still have feelings for me though I wouldn’t want to assume—”

“Assume.”

You stayed quiet, hesitantly looking into his brown eyes as he sprinkled kisses on your knuckles.

“Jungkook—”

“Assume, bubbles.” You pressed your trembling lips and he brushed your cheek with the back of his fingers, “Assume that I love you and don’t want you to leave.”

Your heart was shaking; you were hoping, but— “Are you sure?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, “I’m sure. I just don’t know how to deal with this. I don’t want to hurt you, but there’s so much we need to talk about.”

His eyes were pleading and you squeezed his hand, “If you could forgive me, that would be a great start.”

He sighed, “I don’t think that’s the problem.”

“Yourself?”

“Slightly more complicated.”

You smiled, “Same.” You stayed quiet just looking at each other when you decided to tell him, “I wish we could… forgive our mistakes and restart. We could get to know each other again. See if… If it would work.”

“You don’t think it would?”

You supported his hand on your cheek, “I think we still love each other.” He held your gaze and you felt your cheeks burning under his touch, “But maybe that also means it will be difficult to heal our wounds.”

He nodded calmly, observing your face. “Do you… hate me? For what I did? For never replying to you or fighting for you.”

“No,” you instantly reassured him. “I thought you made a decision and that you wanted to move on from me. That’s a rejection, but that's life. You didn’t cheat or lie or anything like that.”

He sighed, “That’s true… maybe that’s why I could never truly hate you either.”

You couldn’t help a smile, “We… We’re both idiots.”

He wrapped his arm around your waist closer, “A mistake. It was all a mistake.” He pursed his lips for a moment, then brushed your hair gently behind your ear, “Your ‘no’... you never meant forever?”

You grinned, “No. Though I don't need a ring around my finger to know who I belong to. Do you?”

“Who do you belong to?”

You smirked playfully, “I think you know him.”

He sighed and let you brush your fingers around his neck in an attempt to tickle him before lacing your arms around his neck.

“I would have waited,” he finally said, seeing closely how your smile wavered and your eyes filled with tears. “I couldn’t drop everything to go with you, but I would have definitely made it work and visited you whenever I could.”

Your lips trembled and you tried to contain your cry, but your tears won. He pulled you to hide in the crook of his neck and you squeezed him inside your arms.

“Are you… going back?” He realized he didn’t know. “Or are you staying? In Seoul?”

“I got a position here, I’m starting next month.”

He sighed in relief. “I want to try,” his voice was close as he supported your head and leaned over your ear. “Us. I want to try.”

Shivers ran down your spine as you pressed him to you. “Me too.”

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jjunbug · 26 days ago

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͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏BETWEEN TWILIGHT SKIES ╱ SERIES TEASER

in a world that’s on its dying breath, the once green and lush landscapes get buried in more and more layers of ash. the once flourishing streets that were full of magic are now a dull hum. yet, there is still hope—and it lies in the hands of you and kai, the last people to possess magic. suddenly, you remember the story of a forest that watches, and a well of life that lies deep within. you’re determined to save your bleak world in any way that you can, yet, you weren’t expecting to end up in a brand new world entirely.

pairing ⸝⸝ choi yeonjun 𝑥 𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋, huening kai �� 𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𓄵 𝓯eat. ꔛ 𝘧𝘢𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦!𝘵𝘹𝘵 & 𝘰𝘤𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘴

genre ⋆ 📖 ⸝⸝ written series, high fantasy, magic, angst, fluff, smut, faerie prince!yeonjun, sorcerer!kai, sorceress-in-training!reader, marriage of convenience, a lot of yearning and longing (both romantic and platonic)

warnings ⸝⸝ death & decay (of people & animals), violence, depictions of gore, kidnapping, implied bullying, general toxicity, jealousy, gaslighting, possessiveness, and manipulation, toxic environments and parental relationships, abuse 𑁍 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵!

𝓴ipo’s note ⸝⸝ hehe the long awaited super secret wip that i’ve been working on (well… one of them hehe)!!! i hope you’re as excited as i am for it! i thought it was fitting starting this fresh blog off with fantasy, since it’s my favorite genre to write~~ let me know you guys all think!! the series masterlist should be out sometime tomorrow!! hehe, i hope that you enjoy!

͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ❨ 𝘁𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗰: 1k ❩ ╱ ❨ 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝓶. 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ❩ ╱ ❨ 𝓶. 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ❩ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏✉️ ⦂ the prologue should be out in a couple days!

𝗰𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗮𝗱𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁! 𝗺𝘆 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗮𝗹𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝘆 𝗯𝗲 𝗮𝗱𝗱𝗲𝗱! 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙤𝙧𝙨, 𝙖𝙜𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙠 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙗𝙚 𝙖𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙙.

SERIES OUT NOW!!!

It was hard watching things change in front of your very eyes. It was never the way people described it for you. Not the slow twist of vines along a column or the grass growing taller than a fence—no. It was the whipping of wind across your face. You’d go to wipe your teary eyes and find the sunny and warm scenery was now cold and dead with glittering snow laying everywhere.

You hated it.

You wished that things could stay as they were for as long as they could. You hated watching the faces of people you’ve grown to know dip and sag with age in an instant. You hated watching the life leave their eyes in a quick blink. And you hated how life seemed to go so slow for everyone except for you.

If you could dare to wish for one thing, it would be more time. And in the worst way, you got your wish.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion for once in your entire life. The members of the Collective who were snickering and poking fun at you and Kai jumped into action, spirals of green emerging from their fingertips. More of them piled out from the inn, along with Lamia. You don’t realize that a hand is grabbing your arm and lifting you to your feet before you’re being pushed out of the crossfire.

All you see is green. At least, at first.

Then, splatters of red cover your vision. The screams and cracking of bones fill your ears and bodies fly through the air. Hot tears run down your cheeks and you close your eyes. Then, there is complete and utter silence.

The silence lasts for a moment before all sound comes rushing back to you so fast it felt like your ears were bleeding. There was screaming and crying and more cracking of bones set into place. You opened your eyes to see that the once green pasture you danced in was covered in red—red so dark it was almost black, and disfigured bodies and torn limbs were everywhere.

You didn’t know what else to do, so you ran. Tears blurred your vision, but you didn’t need sight for the place you were running to. You could find it in the dark, bound and soundless, if you had to.

That night still plays endlessly in your head, over and over and over until it’s all you know.

The only thing you did feel—the one thing you found solace in—was the fact that you were all alone. You had no family, which meant you had no one to mourn. You guess some things came with its perks. The place that came closest to what you called home was ash beneath your feet, flying in the wind through your cracked fingertips, like everything else. You felt nothing.

“I thought I told you not to ponder on such trivial things. Any space with a place to lay your head is a home.” Your smile grew when you heard his voice—Kai’s voice.

Kai came to a stop next to you, his frame towering over you and his tongue clicking as he looked down at the poor creature beneath you. It’s small body was clinging onto its last fleeting feeling of life. “A pity,” Kai said, his voice lacking the empathy his words portrayed. He was all too used to the way your world worked—nothing but lost hope and decay. It seemed you still had to learn that. “Best to put it out of its misery. There’s no use letting it live its final moments in pain.”

You couldn’t look at how he gave the creature it’s final blow. The cracking of bones reminded you of that night, and a knife-like chill ran down your spine and you squeezed your eyes shut tighter. There was a hand at your elbow after a moment. “Come,” you heard Kai’s voice say gently. “Let’s get out of here.”

As you both made your journey through the woods and past more and more decay, you couldn’t stop the way your heart pulled for something greater—for a miracle. Your whole body lit up at the feeling and buried deep within your memories, you think you may have found one.

You turned to look over at Kai, noticing the way the ash spiraled off of his worn cloak. “Do you remember that forest I told you about?” you asked him. “The Forest That Watches?”

Kai looked over at you, his hair falling into his eyes. It was a lot longer now than when the two of you had first met, with the majority of it tied back in a bun to keep it out of his face. He quirked an eyebrow, “What about it?” His face then fell. “Don’t tell me this is about that Well of Life or whatever it was called… You do know that’s a myth, right? A legend that the royals started to keep everyone from realizing how the world was dying?”

“What if it’s not?” you pressed. “What if The Forest That Watches is real, and what if the Well is in it?”

“It’s not,” Kai threw back.

You stopped in your tracks, face serious as you stared into his eyes. You place a hand on his bicep. “But what if it is?” you insisted. “Kai… I think… I think I saw it. What if this is the only chance we get to save everything—to restore everything?”

Kai sighed at you, his eyes moving to focus on the ground for a moment. “It’s not,” he said, looking back up at your face. You nearly took a step back from how intense his eyes were. “And there’s no saving us.”

He kept on walking through the forest, ducking under leaves and stepping over fallen logs. You remained rooted to your spot in the dirt, defeated.

SERIES OUT NOW!!!!

[ kipo’s note . . . ] hehe what do you guys think?? are you excited are you excited??? are you as excited as i am for this???? this is just a little taste—a little teeny tiny little sliver, if you will, of what’s to come… so stay tuned for the prologue and chapter one!!! (๐॔˃̶ᗜ˂̶๐॓) i should be getting the series masterlist up tomorrow as well! ~~

𖥦 ﴾ 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 . . . 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗺.𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 , 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ﴿ ︵͡ 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 (´ε｀ʃƪ)♡

🏷️﹙ 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝖺��𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍? 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 ﹚ @jjunberry @gothgyuu @gyuuberries @hyukascampfire @xylatox @ghstzzn @izzyy-stuff @sunoosgfv @jihyokat @whosserina @jellymochii @innocygnet @sumsumtingz @riribelle @yeoningz @minaateez @beombunni @jiryunn @lvrs-street2mmorrow @everythingvirgoes @beomieeeeeeeeeeees

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guppybibi · 3 months ago

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hai..um heres a wip bcus i realized i have like 10+ wips

Ever since Johnny made what seemed to be an impulsive decision of joining the military, you two have been the talk of the town. “He had the potential to be an artist.” and “He could've been an artist, what happened?” Those were a couple of the various questions asked of you. And if you were truly being honest..You weren't quite sure either. Not once in your years of being together has he ever hinted about signing up for the military.

Nonetheless you continued to support his decision, not doubting him even for a single second. Going long distance when you two have practically been together for who knows how long certainly wasn't the easiest but it looked like everything paid off when you learned that he was the youngest candidate to ever pass SAS selection through a letter, whatever that was..All you knew is that you were proud of him. You wondered why the hell they called him ‘Soap’ though..

Communicating through letters wasn't the worst thing in the world, in fact, it left you with more longing than ever before in your life. Well except the longing progressively watered down when letters from your Johnny stop coming through. Day by day it felt like arrows were being shot at your heart, and you knew for sure that it wasn't Cupid’s doing.

Soon you're hit with a large smack of reality when you receive a message from someone named ‘John Price’ about Johnny being killed on an important mission. You wouldn't say you were surprised but he promised. A promise that he would come back home to you, that the deadly silence in your home would be filled with his voice again. What a fucking liar he was.

The world isn't going to stop spinning just because someone got their heart broken from the news of a loved one dying and is mourning, especially if it's a mere girl from a quaint town. The world is unfair. It's always been like that, it probably won't change until a few centuries later either.

So, moving on seemed easy enough. It really couldn't be that hard right? You've lived half of your life without Johnny, you're sure you can spend the rest without him as well. This is just one challenge life handed you, you could most definitely handle it. Yup, no problem. Cleaning up Johnny’s belongings wasn't heartbreaking whatsoever, and seeing the last bouquet of flowers he sent you slowly wilt over the days was fun.

..Okay maybe it wasn't all that easy. Maybe admitting that you're struggling is fine, though that was just a baby’s first steps. In the end, progress is still progress so you decided that maybe your heart could handle finishing looking through Johnny’s things plus cleaning because you haven't been in that room for months now. Particularly the stuff in his office, well not really office per se, simply a random room where he stored random items for hobbies he says he’ll get to eventually. News flash, he didn't so now you're stuck with all of it.

You started off strong, dusting shelves and sweeping floors, until you opened a drawer full of art supplies and manuals that were basically brand new. Disgruntlement bubbles up within you, all of this wasted space and materials. Charity sounded real good right now but the sentiment they held was too much..Though the handbook about sculpting caught your eye.

It wasn't a hobby Johnny really focused on as it was time consuming and difficult despite his natural talent for art hence why he focused on drawing instead. It simply wasn't his thing, no problem with that. You spent countless hours browsing through the handbook, the guide eating your interest up. Hey, this could've been a great couple pastime for you two! Shame on him for not thinking about suggesting it to you! Although you were lucky enough that he stored the clay in such a way that it didn't dry up just yet, trying it out couldn't possibly hurt, right?

Tossing on an apron, you began sculpting away!..Well an attempt to at least, the piece continued to look..rough after a long while but practice makes perfect! Well as I said earlier, time doesn't stop for anyone, it keeps flying regardless of the fact it doesn't have a destination in mind. That's probably how you ended up practicing for days, so much so that your fellow townsfolk started getting worried sick and sent out one of the kind ladies to check up on you. And it was a lovely surprise!..Because they had a basket of goodies, who can say no to that?

“Oh dear, look at you! Everyone has been worried about you..” The lady says in relief, brushing a stray piece of hair away from your face while she looks at the state of your clay-stained clothes. Thank goodness for aprons. “Well I hope you're doing alright after your husband's passing dear, we all made this goodie basket for you!” She chirps, extending the basket out to you. Your eyes immediately lock onto the fresh baked goods, looking like you have something to devour when she turns away..

“So you know, all of us are here to help, you aren't alone in this. I’m off, I need to pick some groceries up at the store. Bye-bye!” She waves, walking along the stone path that led away from your home. A quiet ‘thank you’ falls out of your lips, hoping that she’d heard your appreciation towards her caring but totally unnecessary gesture. You step back, placing the basket aside. The pastries could wait, not this. You do appear to be a natural at this, the sculptures you've made so far aren't even half bad for a beginner..It wouldn't be too hard to make Johnny right? I mean, you know his features by heart, you could make it with your eyes closed. Probably. It doesn’t hurt to try, you have enough clay too so there’s really nothing stopping you.

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anaer · 7 months ago

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wip wednesday (july 17 24)

JJK Sukugo rated: dirty shameless smut

Sukuna is all Satoru can think about for days. He’s brimming with excitement, and it doesn’t even matter that he hadn’t won. That Sukuna is still out there, causing death and chaos. It’s better, in fact, that he didn’t. Not even three days pass before he’s seeking him out again, and it only takes so long because he gets distracted with the opening of a sweets café he’s been waiting on for months now.

This time, when he finds him, Sukuna regards Satoru with recognition and, begrudgingly, respect.

“Gojo Satoru,” he greets. There are less dead bodies around right now, but only because Satoru has shown up early in his massacre. People are screaming, running away from them both, but Sukuna is no longer paying attention to anyone but him.

Satoru hums, pleased. “Oh, you learned my name. Who’d you ask? I’m assuming you killed them.” He doesn’t wait for an answer, waving his hand dismissively. “Then again, not like you’d ask their name, I suppose.”

Sukuna tries to kill him.

That’s the rhythm they dance over the next few weeks, a holding pattern neither wants to break. It turns into a game. Satoru needles and needles, and Sukuna returns violence in kind, lust stirred more in their blood every time they meet. Lust stirred until Satoru wants more because it’s also a fact of his existence that he can never be satisfied. Greedy, Sukuna calls him often, but Satoru is strong enough that he can afford to be. Satoru is strong enough that he can take what he wants, and what he wants is Sukuna.

He’s laughing, the first time he kisses him: high on pain both dished out and received as he holds Sukuna’s face in between his hands and smashes their lips together. It happens fast – faster than the ancient sorcerer can respond. Satoru doesn’t know what to expect – isn’t thinking of anything except himself – but for all their differences, they’re of very like minds. The attacks disappear as all four arms embrace him. Satoru’s back hits the ground. He doesn’t break the kiss even as two hands tear at his clothes until he’s bare from the waist down.

Sukuna’s tongue. That’s what Satoru remembers most about their first time. Not the one in his face; the one in his stomach. He’s held facedown, hips pinned in place as it licks its way inside. Satoru whines and bucks, a half-hearted attempt at fighting mostly for the thrill of it. Truthfully, he’s been gone from when that tongue first slipped between his ass cheeks. He’d tried to pull away of course, a pat protest, but Sukuna’s hand on his head, shoving it into the dirt, had quickly quelled that.

It’s novel, is what it is.

His cock scrapes against the rough ground, a tiny torment he could easily turn off. Some part of him, in the back of his mind, still thinks how fun it would be to turn the tables. A trace of blue forms near his fingertips, and Sukuna’s tongue forces deeper inside of him. Satoru moans, all thoughts and his technique dissipating completely.

Every breath forced out of him is a strangled thing, heavy with a million demands he can’t bring himself to voice. Later, he recognizes this as a good thing. Later, he knows Sukuna actively scorns Satoru seeking his own gratification. He won’t care then, and he cares even less right now, with Sukuna’s tongue twisting hot inside of him, pushing him right up to the edge.

Not over, though. Never over.

He could get mad – wants to get mad. Instead, Sukuna pulls another full-body shudder out of him, licking hot and wet and far too deep inside.

“Fucking…hurry up,” he demands, voice barely there. And then a taunt: “This is getting boring.” Teeth scrape along the back of his neck, cutting off anything else he might’ve been trying to say.

“Disrespectful little shit.” Unimpressed.

Satoru might laugh, but no sound comes out. The hands on him tighten, pulling his legs wider. He re-finds himself then, squeezes free, “Not my fault…this is the best you—got—”

His voice breaks as Sukuna tongues him.

This best is good, actually. Better than he’s willing to admit to Sukuna. Better than he’s experienced before at all. Still not enough. Still struggling to tip over the edge.

Sukuna’s tongue disappears. It takes a second to register, for Satoru to realise the sudden lack as every feeling pulled out of him disappears, too. He whines, embarrassingly needy. He’s on his back before he realises, blinking up at Sukuna’s face looming menacingly above him. Satoru wants to grip his hair, to yank him down, to kiss him until neither of them have breath left. He reaches for him, but his wrists are caught before he can do any of that and forced against the ground next to his head.

“Do you think this is for you?” Sukuna scoffs. Another hand wraps around Satoru’s cock. He bucks violently, choking back the gasp as Sukuna squeezes tight. Strokes him. It’s just the right shade of painful, and his head drops back against the dirt at the groan forced out of him. “Make no mistake, you exist as to my own satisfaction.”

Satoru’s laugh is breathless, grin and eyes wide and manic. “Hah,” he manages. It’s near impossible to gather more words, but Satoru thrives off of accomplishing the impossible. “You’d…like to think so, wouldn’t you?”

#sukugo #gojo satoru #sukuna #my fic #wip wednesday #wip

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cecilyv · 5 months ago

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wip wednesday

I'm making @liminalmemories21 write sports ball. Well, let's be fair -- I'm writing sports ball references and she's writing all the "wtf the are you talking about, none of this makes any sense," parts.

Buck/Tommy, 9-1-1

“So you found the picture.”

“When I was looking for the manual,” Buck agrees, “I didn’t know you played baseball. I played football-- “

Tommy snorts, “Of course you did.”

And hey, “Hey!”

Tommy squeezes his shoulders and steps back. “You kind of have a thing for running headlong into danger, Evan, I’m not sure if you noticed.”

The end of his thought is muffled, like he’s talking with his shirt over his head, and Buck twists in his seat to watch as Tommy drops his shirt at his feet and starts popping the buttons on his pants, and “Oh, hey, no distracting me, you played baseball--”

“I was drafted out of high school,” Tommy says, as he kicks off his pants and reaches for Buck’s hand, tugging him up, kissing him softly. “Enlisted in the army instead.” He shrugs and looks down the hallway, “Can I distract you now?”

Turns out, the answer is definitely, yes.

------

and:

Now that it’s all out there, Tommy really opens up about things Buck never heard him talk about before -- which mostly, it seems, is how much Tommy hates the Dodgers. But he puts his hatred aside for the good of the group -- he’s got a friend who made it to the show but is now on the training staff, one of the guys from his old Little League days. He sets Tommy up with a suite at Dodger stadium.

"Who," Eddie hisses as they bypass all the lines at the park heading for one of the boxes, "exactly does Tommy know? Is he secretly a mob boss who moonlights at the LAFD?"

Buck does actually know the answer to this, and not because he'd wondered that once or twice too. But letting Eddie dangle is more fun, so he just raises his eyebrows and shrugs. "He knows a guy,” and Eddie sighs, and Buck tries to distract him, “Did you know Chavez Ravine used to be a neighborhood?”

Ravi and Tommy bond about the unfairness of the Dodgers getting Shohei Ohtani for steal (like, a literal steal, Tommy spends 20 minutes trying to explain it to Buck, who just nods and backs away slowly) and decide that they’re going to the Angels game next time (heartbreak and bad seats be damned). None of them are actually Dodger fans, except Hen, who’s fully decked out in her blue and white and they try not to hold that against her.

They all cheer when Station 118 is welcomed on the big scoreboard in the outfield.

During the game, while everyone else mills around, grabbing food, gabbing, and halfheartedly cheering, Tommy sits with a clipboard, pencil and complicated sheet of paper that he dutifully fills out after every pitch. Buck sits down next to him, watches for a while and then Tommy quietly starts explaining the scorecard and all its abbreviations and rules.

It does make the time go faster.

#wip #buck/tommy #baseball

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voxofthevoid · 4 months ago

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*waves tiredly* Hi, it's Demon/Hunter Horror Wednesday #6. We skipped two weeks. The WIP Wednesdays should continue steadily from now on, but I likely won't resume posting regularly to Ao3 until November.

This fic's now 46k and maybe halfway into Chapter 8—which is one of the major turning points. Been having fun poking at that. But that's very spoilery, so here's Sukuna edging Yuuji for fun and profit from Chapter 7.

“You have some nerve,” says Sukuna, “tracking filth into my domain.”

Yuuji sucks in a sharp breath, trying to breathe or even think past an overwhelming sense of wrongness. Sukuna’s close enough that Yuuji could hear the soft rustle of fabric brushing fabric when he whipped around, but that’s all he heard. It’s not the first time Sukuna’s snuck up on him like this, but it never gets any less unsettling.

It’s like there’s a void in the space he inhabits, except Yuuji can feel his heat and smell his scent; only sound is lacking, but it’s an absence that claws open a pit in his stomach, sending his instincts into overdrive.

And Yuuji hasn’t listened to them since the first time he stepped foot in this church, but right now, he wants to more than usual. The very air is heavy, like Sukuna’s strange scent has its own weight. Every breath Yuuji sucks in coats his bones with wet lead.

Sukuna’s expression flattens further, and that’s when Yuuji really registers what he said.

“Filth?” he repeats, frowning up at him. It’s still there, the urge to break eye contact and back away and do something that makes him feel less like cornered prey, but Yuuji’s not cornered, he’s definitely not prey, and he’s not going to let this man’s weirdness fuck with him like this. Besides— “That’s rude. It’s just some sweat. I ran here, you know.”

The lines of Sukuna’s face collapse into screaming exasperation. “I can smell that too, fool, but it hasn’t washed your little friend off your meat.”

“My—”

The words die in his throat as Sukuna dips his head, his eyes narrowing into slits that gleam red, and Yuuji’s not proud of the way he heats up all over when that nose skims his jaw to drag down the line of his neck, burying itself in his fluttering pulse. It’s warm, almost hot against his skin, which is even colder than usual from the night air, but inside, his flesh and blood are burning. His cock pulses, and Yuuji can’t help thinking about the conversation with Fushiguro.

Addiction, he said, and there’s a reason Yuuji didn’t disagree. The blood rushing to his dick feels like further proof, but the way he’s already almost dizzy and panting with it is still embarrassing.

Sukuna inhales; the sound makes Yuuji’s gut clench.

“Filth,” Sukuna breathes out. “You’ve been straying, brat.”

“What are you on about now?” Yuuji asks breathlessly, gripping a massive shoulder.

Sukuna makes a disgruntled noise and straightens up. Yuuji doesn’t let go, stepping forward so they’re just as close, closer, and Sukuna sneers down at him like he’s all filth all over, but as always, he doesn’t step back or force Yuuji away.

“I can smell the boy on you,” Sukuna says flatly. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

“Smell the—” Realization is sudden and a little surreal. “You mean Fushiguro?”

Sukuna’s eyes glint. “Oh?”

“Forget that,” Yuuji says quickly. “You’re talking like I was sleeping with him.”

“Weren’t you?”

“Obviously not! He’s my friend.”

“Your smell says otherwise.”

“I was sleeping in his bed, asshole, not with him.” Yuuji narrows his eyes right back, but that doesn’t feel every effective when he just barely reaches this guy’s neck; he’s never wanted so bad to be taller. “Don’t be fucking weird.”

“His bed,” Sukuna repeats because of course that’s what he focuses on. “Did it keep you busy, I wonder.”

It’s not a question, Sukuna’s tone and expression just flat judgment, but Yuuji still has a lightbulb moment.

“Are you pissed because I didn’t visit for a week?” he asks.

Sukuna’s lips twist. “Don’t fool yourself.”

“Huh,” Yuuji says, incredulous and also…pleased? Something like that. It’s not like he was under the illusion that Sukuna would miss him, and he still doesn’t think that’s it, not with how Sukuna’s eyeing him right now, but there’s something strangely satisfying about the thought that his absence was noted and maybe wanted, even if it’s by someone as creepy as this guy. Makes all those hours Yuuji spent fucking his hand and his bed and even his pillow just a little less infuriating. “Wasn’t on purpose. I mean, I wanted to. Just couldn’t.”

“Your legs don’t look broken to me,” Sukuna drawls, “though that can always be fixed.”

“Oh, shut up. It’s complicated. I have school and a life and stuff, and you live out here in the middle of nowhere. I can’t just sneak out of the house for a booty call.”

“Naturally,” Sukuna says, his tone so sympathetic that Yuuji immediately knows it’s fake. “I’m sure you had no trouble handling yourself. You’re a red-blooded human boy, after all.”

Suspicion snaps up Yuuji’s spine. “Hey, did you…?”

“Yes? What did I do, brat?” Sukuna asks, all teeth.

“I haven’t come in a week,” Yuuji hisses. “If you—who am I kidding, of course it’s your fault, everything was normal before I fucked you, and now—”

“Now?” Sukuna echoes, still dripping faux sympathy. “What’s the matter? Couldn’t get it up for your pretty little friend?”

“Leave him out of this,” Yuuji snaps, shoving at Sukuna. The bastard doesn’t even budge. “That’s not the problem, and you know it.”

“Do I?” A large hand curls around Yuuji’s hip, blistering and bruising even through his shorts. “Let’s find out then.”

“Hey—” It shudders into a groan when Sukuna cups his crotch, the heel of his hand grinding in roughly, and Yuuji flinches back on half-baked instinct before pressing right back, grabbing Sukuna’s wrist—to keep it there.

Yuuji’s not soft at all. He can’t even remember the last time this guy had to actually touch him to get his cock throbbing. His scent alone turns Yuuji on, and his heat does the rest, and sometimes, just stepping into this church or even thinking of its unholy blend of shadow and light is enough to get him going. And tonight, all of it is a thousand times more intense, all the frustration from day after day of frustrated pleasure tearing through Yuuji to press up hot and hard against Sukuna’s mean palm.

Sukuna squeezes, and Yuuji shudders onto his tiptoes, only to slam back down with a violent buck of the hips, trying to fuck Sukuna’s hand.

“You’re pathetic,” Sukuna nearly croons, but Yuuji’s well past being insulted when this guy calls him pathetic or desperate or disappointing or anything of the sort. It’s not even that he gets off on that kind of talk, just that it’s pretty hard to be insecure or even bothered when Sukuna yaps like that while helping himself to Yuuji’s mouth or dick in a dozen different dizzying ways.

Like right now, that painfully clever hand making short work of Yuuji’s drawstrings, making his shorts pool at his ankles. His dick’s already poking out of his underwear, and a single curved finger is all it takes to make it spring free, right into Sukuna’s waiting palm.

Yuuji groans, the noise torn straight out of his gut.

Sukuna grip tightens, shifts—a long, languid stroke from the head to the base.

“Fuck,” Yuuji gasps, his legs going boneless for a searing second; it’s just a hand, just a lazy touch, not even half as good as how Yuuji can touch himself or, hell, how Sukuna sometimes touches him, but it��s been a week of just his hand doing absolutely jackshit to get him off, and those calloused fingers feel like sweet fire, pulsing in the inside of Yuuji’s cock.

Sukuna makes a noise that’s amused and derisive both, but Yuuji doesn’t give a fuck about that as long as he keeps touching him, and he does, his hand twisting like the world’s kindest vise on the way up, and Yuuji jolts forward, not fucking into Sukuna’s hand so much as chasing him—his hand, his touch, his body. The bones of Sukuna’s wrist cut into his palm, and his other hand is buried in thick cloth and thicker muscle. There’s the distant but familiar awareness that he’s not holding back at all, but something about Sukuna kills the instinctive restraint Yuuji built up over years and years, starting the moment he realized his body could break people.

Sukuna doesn’t break; he bleeds and bruises, but he wants it, doesn’t he?

Yuuji steps closer, letting go of Sukuna’s hand to grab his hip, and it’s better leverage like this, Sukuna’s body a looming mountain that doesn’t waver no matter how hard Yuuji clings or pushes, and he does cling and push plenty, fucking his cock into the hand that’s stroking it tight but slow, and even with all the precome there, it’s still dry and rough, the friction raking at his flesh, but the pleasure drowns it out. Every cell inside Yuuji is simmering red, like they know they’re about to get everything they’ve been denied—

Sukuna’s hand clamps savagely around the base.

Yuuji shouts, punching that thick shoulder in sheer reflex.

Sukuna lets go with a huff, and Yuuji stumbles back a step, cupping his dick protectively. “What the hell, man?”

“Surely you didn’t think it’d be that easy,” Sukuna says, closing the distance between them in a single stride, and this time, Yuuji does listen to the screaming urge to back off, mostly because it’s coming from his aching dick, but an arm bars the way, Sukuna pulling him close by the waist.

Yuuji gasps when they collide, and that’s a mistake, Sukuna’s scent mixing with his heat mixing with his sheer size to go straight to his head, his vision wavering at the edges.

Sukuna takes his cock back, a thumb slipping idly into the tip to smear the wetness around. It’s delicate until it isn’t, the searing stroke to the base ripping through Yuuji like some beast’s teeth.

He clings to the closest steady surface—Sukuna, his body barely contained in the circle of Yuuji’s arms.

#sukuita #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #wip wednesday #jjk snippets #my fic #divider credit: saradika-graphics #fic: mouth of the wolf

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cutestkilla · 7 months ago

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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers (except me because obvs I have done it). Spread the self-love ❤

Thank you so much for this ask (and @bookish-bogwitch and @aristocratic-otter too). You're all amazing and your self-recs are too - I cosign them all!

So: this is the first time I've gotten one of these where I actually HAVE 5+ fics (of my own) to choose from 😂 so you know what, even though it's a *somewhat* trivial process, I'm gonna DO THE THING and come up with a Top 5.

1. What's Left (133K, M)

My first fic, and still my favourite. Probably because conceptually, I don't think I'll ever come up with something this cool or interesting again. And also because I got to spend so many words with my version of the Humdrum (who many of you know as Sid), expanding on what we know of him from canon and all the ways he intersects with Simon, and I kind of just love him alot. This is definitely the plottiest thing I've ever written, with lots of twists and turns and what I think is a sort of an arc you can't predict from the start (pioneering the Baz/Humdrum tag!!), and that made it really fun to write, and I hope fun to read too. Also, this is the most painful thing I've written (it starts with Simon dead, folks), which if you know me at all, explains why it would be my favourite. 😂

2. Hiding Out in the Open (48K, M - WIP 5/7 chapters)

This takes the #2 spot for sure because: a) it's also got a decent amount of pain courtesy of an alt-WS divergence setting and b) it's also kinda high concept. And c) I'm writing it as a very drawn out birthday gift for my beloved @artsyunderstudy in honour of what is now OUR beloved psychology podcast of choice, Hidden Brain. My favourite thing about this one is the way I've worked all these real concepts in psychology (and real episodes of Hidden Brain) into the narrative in a way that I think feels organic and true to the characters. It's been a challenging puzzle to solve, but man have I learned some cool things along the way. This one IS a WIP, but I'm going full steam ahead on it, and even though the story is NOT over, ch 5 ends in a decently satisfying place.

3. Slamming and Smashing (18K, E)

My first (and only) E-rated fic! I'm more of a soft smut writer, but I had so much fun writing this one as a gift for @ic3-que3n based on prompts that included: NSFW, Simon slamming Baz into a wall (as referenced in Snow for Christmas), a very specific line from Bram Stoker's Dracula about wild rose, AND an Anastasia AU. This one is pretty low on pain/angst and high on post-canon fluff, but I did still give Baz a *bit* of a breakdown in it 😂. I'm proud of this one because I think it's hot and also because I managed to hit ALL those prompts in one smutty fic, and tell what I think is a pretty relatable story about how hard communicating can be in relationships.

4. Episode 5: The Tardigrade and His Boy (25K, T)

Another gift fic, this time for @raenestee! This was not only an amazingly fun collaboration with @facewithoutheart @aristocratic-otter @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @thewholelemon

@mostlymaudlin and @artsyunderstudy, but I found a way to have the Humdrum front and centre again which makes me so happy. I also cut my teeth writing Shep and Agatha POVs for the first time in this one, which was very fun. And I managed to write one of my most favourite types of fics: one that is both an AU and also secretly canon-compliant. This is my only true AU and I think it's a really fun romp (just like the rest of the series which I highly recommend).

5. This Is Your Place (18K, M)

This one was for Prompt Fest 2022 (a fest to celebrate the anniversary of @carryonprompts where - reminder - you can submit your Carry On fic prompt ideas and maybe someone will write them) and filled this prompt by @bookish-bogwitch:

"@ionlydrinkhotwater wrote this meta: "Omg Simon is such a ho, in retaliation for Baz pulling the open sesame move, he dashes to their room, showers, shaves (nicking his skin so he's a little bit bloody and therefore yummy) and "accidentally" comes out in just pajama bottoms with his tits full out, without the necklace." ... And I want to read a fic where Baz fuckin' Takes. The. BAIT."

What I think I did well in this one is building up both the tension and the empathy between Simon and Baz in a way that makes the payoff feel earned, even though the story only takes place over the course of a few hours, the day Baz gets back to Watford after the numpties. I also really love my Baz inner monologue in this, and that Simon gets to be a little bit smooth, too.

#oops wrote an essay #my writing #fic writer self rec #fic rec #why not #that IS what we're doing here!#ask game #carry on #carry on fanfic #snowbaz fanfic

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fsbc-librarian · 3 months ago

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WIPs Word Search

I've been tagged in two of these now - thanks @thisonesatellite & @xoxobuckybarnes - so I am going to combine the two into one (but I only have two WIPs to work from, so it'll be interesting to see if I can split the prompts down the middle or not).

Green: There’s something about planning, filming, and piecing together video clips that’s always excited Bucky, and it’s pretty much exactly what the opening video for their Glastonbury performance is - just a longer video clip. It’s pretty much fully filmed - the solo parts were mostly filmed on a soundstage in front of a green screen anyway, and all of the group shots were done in London either on location or with more green screens. There’s no talking by any of the band, so that made it easier, and it had actually been a lot of fun to film because they’d had enough explosions to rival a Hollywood blockbuster. All that’s really left now is to make sure the scenes look good, and the music matches the action.

Spoon: Breakfast is a bowl of cereal. He eyes the kettle with suspicion, but decides that’s a battle for another day. He’s not entirely sure how to use the coffee press, and there’s no room on the tiny counter for a coffee machine anyway. He drops the bowl in the sink, and is three steps away before he remembers that there’s no one else to actually wash it for him anymore. He wonders if there’s any point in filling the whole sink, small though it might be, for just one bowl and one spoon. Surely not. A couple of drops of detergent in the bowl, and a rinse with hot water later, he leaves the now-clean bowl on the tiny drying rack and heads for the bathroom.

Art: He knows Steve loves art galleries and history, and that he refuses to watch the news in case he learns of another art gallery or historical monument being destroyed. He knows Steve had asthma as a kid, that his ma was a single omega in a rough neighborhood and they couldn’t afford a television so he would sneak into the old movie theater which only played black and white films, which is why Steve knows next to nothing about pop culture except for some very niche references to movies from the 40s.

Everything: Steve can only stare, heart thumping as he soaks it in as best he can, glad he’s comfy as all hell on his couch in their living room with the AC on even as he wishes he could be there. He listens to the tracks, everything sounding even better than he had imagined that it could live, the performance not marred by any bad sound technician issues - though Steve had been sure it wouldn’t be. The 107’s team were damn good, and Bucky was too much of a perfectionist to allow anything but the best, especially for something so important as this.

Sharp: Bucky cuts him off with a kiss, biting down on his lower lip with sharp teeth, soothing the sting with a swipe of his tongue. “I trust you,” he whispers against Steve’s mouth.

Interesting: “It was certainly interesting to see you getting a dressing down like that,” Maria admits. “Every time I’ve seen someone try in the past, you’ve just walked away from them.”

“It was Steve,” he says, as though that explains anything.

Eyeroll: “Cinderella lost her shoe, not her feet,” Wanda says from behind them, making Darcy jump.

“I told you!” Bucky laughs. “I told you it was Cinderella’s shoe, but you didn’t believe me!”

Wanda rolls her eyes goodnaturedly. “Are you hungry? Logan made a stack of snacks earlier; they’re in the kitchen.”

Well, this certainly made me realise that I use some phrasing more often than I'm overly happy with (and also using the search function on a 400+ page document in google docs on an older model laptop will almost make the laptop sieze up), but it was fun to look through my work.

No pressure tags for @buckybarnesdeservestobehappy @zenaidamacrouras1 @oh-i-swear-writes @musette22 and anyone else who wants to join in. Your words are: patch, behave, loud, genuine

#wip ask game #stucky #fanfiction #wip #bucky barnes #steve rogers

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oh-no-its-dragons · 1 month ago

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2024 Fic Writer End of Year Roundup (Distrated Version)

aka only the ones I can do off the top of my head after the first few questions because otherwise I'll never get this done

1. How many words did you publish on AO3 in 2024?

On AO3, I've got 150,559 words for the year.

2. How many fics did you complete this year?

Oooh "complete" is not a thing I'm good at, but let me see...

Looks like there were three multichapter fics and about twenty one-shots. I've gotten better at making something a series instead of an open-ended multi-chapter fic when that's what makes more sense for it.

3. How many in progress or ongoing fics did you start this year?

Started posting? Only three. I've got a few more in my WIP files but they don't count until there's something posted somewhere.

4. What was your favorite thing you wrote?

This is a super hard question for me and not only because I forget everything exists once it's posted. Maybe Country Air? I'm enjoying The Cure Is Worse Than The Poison except for when I hate it. I had a lot more fun writing Defying Gravity than I expected, and Early Tyrrish Romantic Poetry was an act of love so it's especially close to my heart.

5. What piece was your most experimental or different from your usual style?

Gotta be the faux-translated ancient dramatic poems, lol.

6. Did any fics surprise you - either while writing or their reception?

Defying Gravity probably surprised me the most- there's probably two or three points in there where I had a good idea of what would happen and then when I got there it just. Didn't happen that way.

9. Who is an artist/author that inspired you?

Can I just list the entire Riders Quadrant discord? Because seriously I had so much fun writing fic and talking about it this year. @suebswrites helped me restructure both Poison and Defying Gravity in ways that made them better. @alexandia03 and @siobhanbooks and @essjaywrites and @tegantales all made me think a probably unhealthy amount about Imrrick. @yanny-77 and @siobhanbooks made me fall in love with Bodoc and Bodhi in general. @fantasywithkassidy's adorable Altitude Adjustment is directly responsible for the modern-with-magic AU Moth and I are starting. @lizardsrunfast and @saranova and @hockeyspiral23 are incredible writers who all inspired my design work which has been like a whole new bonus hobby. @illustratinghan and @essjaywrites and (ig)cuddlydevil1114 and (ig)mangaurania all make me want to be a better artist every time I pick up my tablet. I'm blanking on tumblr names for Mint and Mara_Leigh but both of them blew my mind too, and @overjoyedisland and @shipmistress9 and @caeli0306 all writing amazing stuff and @serahadmoni and @greeneyedwildthing killing me with the meta and... shit I'm sure I'm forgetting people too. This fandom is so fucking talented.

10. Who is a new author you discovered?

I mean, the whole fandom? I discovered the whole fandom. I'm endlessly impressed by how many people in this fandom wrote for the first time this year and are killing it right out of the gate, y'all are amazing.

11. Did you do any collaborations? How did it start?

@sarcasticmothwrites is my favorite person in the world

like how it started is they picked up Fourth Wing as a lucky day at the library and read it in less than a week and made me read it immediately and we couldn't stop talking about it. and then I made them join the discord, and we either co-write or beta everything for each other anyway because we're just that couple. lol.

14. What is your advice?

Write what makes you happy. Try things because they seem fun or because you always wanted to and haven't yet. If you told me a year ago I'd be designing t-shirts and making stickers I'd have laughed. I learned to make discord emotes! I got my first tattoo! In 2025 I'm going to try getting acrylic charms done and I'm going to try doing my own embroidered weapons patches for my denim jacket.

Just find time to do what brings you joy and celebrate with other people when they find their joy.

#the fandom as a whole

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bromcommie · 2 months ago

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WIP word search 2: electric boogaloo

Many thanks to @painted-doe who posted an excellent part 2 to this tag game (go check it out wink wink) and left an open tag with the keywords guard, break, true and left. I have to admit I feel like a dog chasing its own tag tail lol but the first one was so fun I just couldn't resist. Anyway!

Guard:

Groundhog Day except it's not Groundhog Day but instead amnesiac psychological horror. (Imagine this is indented—I’m editing on mobile, and Tumblr is misbehaving.)

They take him out of the dark and into a blue room. Empty, square, clear sightlines. Single exit, no windows. He knows this story, just like he knows the story of his dream: six guards, armed. Table, gun, a man on his knees like a test he's taking for the first time but knows he'll fail. Knobby bones at the top of his spine.

So why are the shadows wrong?

Because the man is him. Because the gun is a red herring.

They beat him until he stops making noise and then some more for good measure. He doesn’t remember what he did to deserve it, and he doesn’t ask. Doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe, doesn’t do much of anything, really, except maybe wait.

Asking questions. That's what you forget after sitting in it for too long, he remembers now. You forget there's questions to be asked in the first place. You forget there's something outside of the hole you're sitting in.

Sometimes doing nothing is worse.

He waits for the bullet. He keeps waiting for the goddamn bullet. He doesn’t know what he is, but he thinks it might be a stupid motherfucker. The bullet’s not coming.

When he asks for it, it’s in English.

They put him back under.

Break:

Rogers is still staring at him like he’ll go up in a puff of smoke if he looks away. His hair’s grown out from the last time they’ve come face to face, falling floppy across his forehead and curling a little where he’s still damp and flushed from his shower. It suits him better, he thinks fuzzily; makes him look less sharp around the edges. Less like a stone carveout and more like a breathing thing. He doesn’t understand why that makes the loss surge even more. Желание, his mind insists again unprompted, and it rings out through him like another shot fired. He needs to break the standstill they’ve arrived at but he feels terribly cold all of a sudden, skin gone clammy with it. The searing pain in his abdomen has been replaced by a dull tingling, spreading rapidly like wildfire to the rest of his body, the plates in his arm whirring and recalibrating wildly under his jacket trying to interpret the signal, keep up with the pounding of his heart. He’s bleeding out, he thinks distantly. Operational integrity compromised. Yeah, no fucking shit.

True:

From another unfinished episode from orpheus, in which Steve goes down memory lane and he and Bucky hit the beach. (Kind of.)

From a young age Bucky and he were both, predictably, enchanted with the damn thing. They’d put their ear to the shell's opening in turns and name all the things they could hear: Waves. Wind. Crab. Fish. Fisherman almost catching it and cursing when it got away. Bagpipes. Bagpipes? Yes, bagpipes. Drums, too. Whales. There’s no whales in Ireland, stupid. What do you know, you’ve never been. Neither have you. I guess. Maybe we can go together. People splashing. Ice cream seller. Someone kicking a ball down the boardwalk. A lot of the time, these near-mythical beaches of Ireland ended up sounding a lot like Coney Island. None of it was true, of course. The actual sounds were the product of the air’s vibration inside the curve of the shell having nowhere to escape. The stories they made up around them were a product of an unfettered imagination and an unshakeable generational nostalgia for a place they would never know. The conch itself was a product of a trinket shop in Brighton Beach, New York, which was over 3000 miles away from Kenmare, Ireland, and it was long collecting dust on a shelf before Steve’s mother bought it on a whim one day in early 1918. It had cost a whopping three dollars, which was more than she had to give for a cheap trinket as a 22-year-old with a baby on the way and fresh off the boat to boot, but it had reminded her, somehow, of home: of the flat pale serpentine of sand she would go to that never had such exotic gems to offer, of the people she’d gone with, of the sound and touch of the water. Sarah was a sensible woman, utilitarian in her logic and uncompromising in her decision-making. Between her and her husband, Joseph had gotten the majority share of designated emigree sentimentality. But the seashell reminded her of him, too, of the space that separated them and the indeterminable time that would pass before he and the many men like him could come home. So in the end sensible, pragmatic little Sarah Rogers parted with her hard-earned three dollars, and the Atlantic conch from the wrong side of the Atlantic returned home with her, meticulously packed in newspaper and stuffed to the bottom of her purse like a treasure much greater than it was. Joe Rogers, of course, never did return. He and the many men like him were buried on the wrong side of the Atlantic because of a war that, like most wars, had nothing to do with them in particular. For all of her outspoken opinions, his mother never talked about it. Like the real provenance of the conch, like the thing hiding in the folds of the silence that hangs between him and Bucky now, it was another truth easier left unsaid. He never thought her a coward for it. He’s not sure he can extend himself the same courtesy.

Left: