#thread: a true artist

[monikahmakes]

WIP, on about my sixth one of these in the past week. Hopefully destined to be part of a mixed media piece, but also, I just like making these, and the process is so absorbing. It's a good feeling, and a good distraction. I'm like a shark; I can't stop moving or I'll sink.

[weebookey]

Criminal Manga Authors | a thread 🧵

with the controversial release of Rurouni Kenshin next week its an important time to shed light on Mangaka within the industry who have broken the law—varying from humorous to truly despicable… enjoy!

Nobuhiro Watsuki, possession of CSEM (Child Exploitation Material).

Mitsutoshi Shimabukuro, violating Child Pr0stituti0n Laws.

Tatsuya Matsuki, Sexual-Assault against a Minor.

Kenya Suzuki, possession of CSEM (Child Exploitation Material).

Mamora Gouda, Assault & Indecent Behaviour against a Woman.

Kyarakyara Macchiato, Segsual-Assault towards a Minor.

Dodai Shouji, Seggual-Assault against a Minor.

Taro Ichikuira, distribution of CSEM (Child Exploitation Material).

Issei Sagawa; M*rder, R*pe, C*nnib*lism.

Toyokazu Matsunaga, Political Death Threats.

Kazuichi Hanawa, possession of modified weaponry.

Takeshi Obata, unlawful driving + illegal possession of knife.

END OF THREAD!

[thatoneweird014]

keep notes.

plz reblog for science

[ponett]

Any opinion on the Pokemon Gigaleak or nah?

I think seeing some of the WIP assets from when gen 3 was in development is kinda neat, because Game Freak is normally so secretive about that kind of thing. But beyond that I mostly just find this whole situation tiring.

Fans have a tendency to almost treat scrapped material as "more canon" than whatever actually made it into the finished product, in a way. It's treated as this pure, unfiltered insight into the creators' true vision. In reality, most of the time this stuff gets cut for a reason. Sometimes they very quickly realize it was a bad idea that was never gonna work, and they don't go very far with it. Sometimes it's a pitch from just one guy on the team that was never gonna get accepted. Sometimes they're just spitballing. Experimentation and iteration and knowing when to cut things are integral parts of the artistic process.

And hell, a lot of the time creators will just mess around with an idea purely as a creative exercise, or to get an idea out of their system, or to explore a crazy what-if scenario, or even just as a joke, with no intention of ever actually using those ideas. We recently saw this same thing happened with those leaked Rebecca Sugar sketches, where people were like "OMG Rebecca ships this, this is what they REALLY wanted to do with the show, this is canon, this was happening off-screen!!" And it's like, y'all have no idea how much crazy shit your favorite artists draw with their characters just to amuse themselves. The crew on Clarence had a not-so-secret Tumblr where they redrew scenes from Evangelion with Clarence characters. That doesn't mean they wanted to turn Clarence into Eva. They were just screwing around. This happens all the time, and with way more extreme examples than these. Lord knows how many Disney animators have drawn Mickey Mouse with his dick out over the years. That doesn't mean they ever actually wanted to make an official Mickey Mouse porno.

And, of course, there's the response to those myths that were never supposed to see the light of day. Anyone who's even passingly familiar with mythology from just about any part of the world shouldn't be surprised to hear fables about humans and animals having babies or whatever. But now people are responding to those unused stories and going "OMG Game Freak is a bunch of gooners who want humans and Pokemon to have sex!! This is canon!!!" It's so fucking tiring. So much of the modern internet, particularly Twitter, is driven by people who just want an excuse to whip out their favorite shocked/disgusted reaction image and ham up their reaction to something that isn't actually all that shocking. Everyone just wants to get their funny dunks in and feign moral superiority. It's childish. And it's because of reactions like this that this stuff was never supposed to see the light of day in the first place. But fans feel like they're owed every single shred of info from the development of their favorite franchises, so these leaks happen and people run wild with them.

(It also doesn't help that this is all just sourced back to a 4chan thread, so people were posting fake shit between the real leaks and muddying the waters. And also most of it is in Japanese, so people are just sticking documents through Google Translate and going "whooooaaaa this is canon")

[mayrine]

The Artists for Palestine project does not have an end date

Its going based on artists willingness to participate alone!!

If you are an artist and want to help Palestine and this project you should message @/sitcomabed (https://x.com/sitcomabed?s=20) over on twitter and join the other artists in creating art and generation donations!!

You need to have a twitter account cause Zayna (the person that started this project) doesn't have a tumblr so you can only message her on twitter

here is the link to the original twitter thread where they explain how you can get your commission (https://x.com/sitcomabed/status/1755711698298716487?s=20)

also if you arent an artists you should still go and donate!!!

edit: i've been told that the link to the thread doesn't work for everyone so here are screenshots of the entire thread, the links shown in the screenshots are at the bottom

Care for Gaza: https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/UsmanaliF Pious projects: https://x.com/PiousProjects/status/1751164159658541234?s=20 Donate to Zayna, the person that made the thread and that started this project: https://ko-fi.com/sitcomabed Google form: https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1RStk1YXfg4KJ8X4sO6_DxDIpDlHZIsyZhPAyiCBK6VQ/viewform?edit_requested=true

Thread of the artists that are participating in this project: https://x.com/sitcomabed/status/1756036418869006388?s=20

Also if you want to donate to a different charity/project then the ones mentioned in the tweet, you can!! I asked Zayna and she said its fine as long as you put that down in your description.

If there are any other problems with the links please @ me in a reblog or leave a comment and i'll try to fiz things

[starkwlkr]

silver springs | mark webber

thanks to everyone who voted! like my seb fic, this will only have three parts

part 2 part 3

warning: cheating

requests are closed

INSTRAGRAM

liked by sebastianvettel, landonorris and 563,377 others

yourusername congratulations oscarpiastri on your incredible sprint race win! first win in f1, but it won’t be the last!

oscarpiastri ❤️

papayafans481 DESERVED

teampiastri did anyone see the interview with david coulthard and mark webber?😭

leclerctears what happened??

teampiastri david kept bringing up y/n and mark couldn’t even say her name 🥲 he said mclaren team principal when referring to her

lewis8wdc what the fuck happened between them?🤨 i know they dated I’m guessing they ended on bad terms

op81xx girl they were gonna get married 😭 mark had the ring and even asked y/n’s family for their blessing there’s a thread on twitter about them

aussiegrit ❤️

multi21bitch you ain’t slick old man 🤨

view all 34,366 comments

UNITED STATES GRAND PRIX

Lando had scored a podium finish while Oscar had unfortunately suffered a DNF. After the podium ceremony, you were on your way back to the Mclaren garage when you heard a familiar voice. Mark was speaking with Fernando when you had walked by them. It had been years since you were that close to Mark. Of course he was in the Mclaren garage since he was Oscar’s manager, but you were a pro at avoiding Mark Webber.

You kept walking and finally made it to the garage where you congratulated the team for their effort.

“When was the last time she spoke to you?” Fernando questioned the Aussie. He was great friends with both you and Mark. He was one of many that thought you two would end up getting married. He was utterly shocked when Mark had told him that you were no longer together.

“March twenty fifth twenty thirteen. She blocked my number, she told me I couldn’t contact any of her family members either.” He explained. “I fucked up my life, Fernando.”

No one apart from Mark and you knew the reason for the break up.

“What did you do?”

“I hurt her. After Malaysia happened, y/n tried to comfort me, but I pushed her away. I stayed in the paddock late while y/n was already in our hotel room waiting for me, i told her to just go to sleep but she never listens. I was on my way back and I decided to go to a bar and I met a woman there. . . ”

It didn’t take a genius to know what would happen next.

“Shit, Mark.” Fernando mumbled.

“That’s not even the worst part, mate. I came back to our hotel room in the morning and she had her suitcase packed. She was going back home. The woman I was with had texted her from my phone and told her everything.” Mark remembered that night all too well. “She told me she never wanted to see me again . . .”

“Funny how that turned out.”

“But she also told me something else. Her doctor had called her a few days ago and told her she was pregnant. I fucked up my life all because I got mad at the result of a stupid race!”

Like everything else in the paddock, Mark’s words didn’t stay a secret for long. A rumor confirmed true traveled fast.

PRIVATE INSTAGRAM

liked by susie_wolff, clairewilliams_official and 143 others

yourprivate happy birthday, my darling 🎀✨ i look forward to your sidewalk chalk artwork everyday ❤️

susie_wolff she’s getting so big! happy birthday!

yourprivate i’m not ready for her to grow anymore🥹

clairewilliams_official what an artist!❤️

yourprivate my own little picasso ❤️

zbrownceo happy birthday 🎂 i hope she enjoyed all the gifts the team and i sent

yourprivate she loved every single one, thank you!

[artbyblastweave]

A few years ago, there was a thread on r/asksciencefiction where someone was fishing for a superhero story with an inverted Omni-Man dynamic, or a setting where Homelander's initial presentation is played straight- a setting where the Superman figure actually is the paragon of morality he's initially presented as, but no other superhero is- a situation where you've got one really competent true-blue hero standing head-and-shoulders in power above what's otherwise a complete nest of vipers.

Someone in the thread floated My Hero Academia; while I haven't read it, my understanding is that that's not really an accurate read of what's going on with Stain's neurosis about All-Might being the only "real hero," that the point of that arc is that Stain's got an insane and unreasonable standard and that taking an endorsement deal, while bad, isn't actually grounds for execution. My own contribution to the thread was Gail Simone's Welcome to Tranquility, where a major part of the backstory involved the faux Justice-League's Superman analogue having a little accident because he's the only one who thought they were morally obligated to go public with the secret life-extending macguffin that the rest of the team is using to enforce comic-book time on themselves and their loved ones; while only a couple members of the team are directly in on it, the rest are conveniently incurious. And Jupiter's Legacy gets tantalizingly close to this- The Utopian, a well-meaning stick-in-the-mud, ultimately gets blindsided and couped by his scheming brother who creates a superhero junta staffed by a Kingdom-Come-style glut of third-gen superheroes, who are framed as fundamentally self-interested because only came onto the scene after most of the situations you legitimately need a superhero to handle have been neutralized. (The rub, of course, is that the comic is also highly critical of the Utopian's intellectually incurious self-righteously 'apolitical' approach to superheroism- if for no other reason than that it left him in a position to get blindsided by a coup!) While Jupiter's Legacy gets the closest, all three of these are only loosely orbiting around the spirit of the original idea, and there's something really interesting there- particularly if the Superman figure isn't hopelessly naive in the same way as Utopian. Because first of all, if you're Metaman or Amazingman or whatever brand-name alias the writer goes with, and you really earnestly mean it, and you put together a team of all the other most powerful heroes on earth in order to pool your resources, and then with dawning horror you gradually begin to realize that everyone in the room besides yourself is a fascist or a con artist or abuser or any other variant of a kid with a magnifying glass eyeing that anthill called Earth- What the hell is your next move?

Do you just call the whole thing off? Can you trust that they'll actually go home if you call the whole thing off? I mean you've put the idea in their heads, are you sure that they aren't going to, like, start the Crime Syndicate in your absence? Do you stick around to try and enact containment, see if getting all of these people on a team makes them easier to keep on a leash? But that's functionally going to make you their enabler pretty quickly, right? Overlooking "should you kill them-" can you kill them? You're stronger than any individual one of them- are you stronger than all of them? The first time one of them really crosses a line in a way you can't ignore- will that be a one-on-one fight? Are they the kind of people capable of putting two-and-two together and pre-emptively ganging up on you if you push back too hard? Do you just start trying to get them killed, or keep them at each other's throats so they can't coordinate anything really nasty? Can you squeeze any positive moral utility out of them, or is that just a way to justify not doing the hard work of taking them down? There've been works where the conceit is to question the default assumption that Superman in specific would be a good person, and there've been works where the conceit is to question the default assumption that superheroes in general would be good people. Something to be done, I think, with questioning the default assumption that everyone Superman becomes professionally close to would be good, and to explore how he'd handle it if they weren't.

[solxamber]

Hi! Can I have a request for skully j. graves with a fem reader? (romantic)

Where his s/o wears a clothing style like sally? Since skully clothing is like skellington, she even wore makeup up like sally's! Imagine the couple wears like jack skellington and sally <3

Bonus: reader shyly asked if Sally can make a clothing style like hers AHHHH cute interaction with her 😭💕

Skully J. Graves x reader

I hope it's not too ooc and I hope you like it <3

It’s a crisp, shadowy evening in Halloween Town, and the air practically hums with excitement. The strange blend of mystery and delight is palpable—especially with Halloween just around the corner. You and Skully have been together for a while now, and tonight, you’re ready to take the plunge and ask Sally something you’ve been thinking about for ages.

With a deep breath, you approach Sally as she sits under a gnarled tree, busy at work stitching up a new creation. She hums softly to herself, her needlework delicate and precise. There’s something serene about her, something calming—though, as you sneak a glance back at Skully bouncing on his feet with excitement, you realize not everything about Halloween Town is peaceful.

“Um, Sally?” you call out, walking up with a shy smile. “Can I ask you something?”

Sally looks up from her sewing, her expression warm and welcoming. “Of course. What is it?”

Feeling a bit self-conscious, you fiddle with the hem of your sleeve. “I… I’ve always loved your dress, and your whole look, really. I was wondering if… if you could help me make something similar?”

Sally’s eyes light up with surprise and pleasure. “You want to make a dress like mine?” she asks, setting aside her needle and thread. “I’d be more than happy to help.”

Her excitement makes you feel a bit more comfortable, and you sit down beside her as she explains how she pieces together scraps of fabric and stitches them by hand. She’s patient as she teaches you, her soft voice guiding you through each step.

“It’s all about finding pieces that fit together,” she says, threading a needle with ease. “Just like how you and Skully do. You complement each other well.”

That comment makes you blush, but you smile in return. “Thank you, Sally. This means a lot.”

Sally’s hand gently rests on yours, offering a kind smile. “It’s no trouble at all. I’m just glad you’re making something that feels true to you.”

The next few days are spent working on the dress, with Sally guiding you and encouraging your creativity. And when you finally finish, you feel a sense of pride that matches the joy in your heart. The dress is a patchwork of colors, stitched together like pieces of a story, and it’s perfect. To complete the look, you add a bit of makeup to match Sally’s iconic stitched appearance.

As you step out wearing the dress for the first time, Skully’s reaction is immediate and unmistakable. His wide eyes, slack jaw, and dramatic gasp make you laugh, though his sheer excitement is impossible to ignore.

“My dear,” Skully exclaims, rushing over to you with a flourish. “You… you look absolutely stunning! Truly, a masterpiece! This—this is the most splendid thing I’ve ever seen!”

His excitable energy radiates from him, and his hands flutter around you like he’s unsure where to start with his compliments. “The stitching, the colors, the sheer brilliance of it all!” he continues, twirling you around to get the full effect. “You’ve captured the essence of Halloween Town itself!”

You can’t help but grin at his reaction, feeling the warmth of his admiration. “It’s thanks to Sally,” you say modestly. “She helped me put it all together.”

“Ah, but it’s you who brings it to life!” Skully declares, grabbing your hand and twirling you in a playful spin. “You, my love, are a true artist.”

As the evening continues, the two of you walk hand in hand through Halloween Town, an eye-catching pair with your Jack and Sally-inspired looks. The town’s usual eerie glow seems even more magical tonight, and the townspeople can’t help but notice. Some smile and wave, while others chuckle at Skully’s over-the-top commentary about how “perfectly terrifying” the two of you look together.

When you reach the iconic hill with its curled peak, Skully pauses, his hand still clasped in yours. He turns to you with a wide grin, his excitement now tempered by a softer, more heartfelt emotion.

“I have to say,” he begins, his voice still brimming with energy, “you’ve made this town feel even more magical. It’s always been my home, but with you here, it’s… it’s like the spirit of Halloween itself is stronger.”

His words touch you deeply, and you step closer, resting your head on his chest as he wraps his arm around you. “I feel the same way,” you admit softly. “Halloween Town has never felt more like home than when I’m with you.”

Skully pulls you in tighter, a genuine smile lighting up his face. “We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?” he says dramatically, looking out over the eerie landscape. “The King of Halloween and his perfect Queen.”

You laugh at his flair, though the sentiment warms you from the inside out. You chuckle, your voice filled with affection. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

As the two of you stand there, the glow of Halloween Town casting long shadows, you realize that this is where you’re meant to be. With Skully by your side, everything feels like it’s fallen into place—just like the pieces of the patchwork dress you now wear.

And in true Skully fashion, as he sweeps you up into his arms for a grand twirl, you realize that his dramatic flair and excitable nature make every day with him an adventure. A perfect, spooky, and utterly charming adventure.

Masterlist

[bluegiragi]

I hate to ask this cause it feels stupid but I dont wanna do a bunch of research on whatever the recent cod mw fandom discourse is,

but I saw the reblog of someone accusing you of supporting people who write sexualized pedophilia and that really is personally my only """"moral"""" with nsfw shit, (I'm a patreon subscriber and ig I just wanna know where my money's going) is THAT true?

i used to follow an artist who, 5-6 months ago made racist art featuring gaz and soap in a slave context, which I didn't like, retweet or interact with in any way. they also made under-age art of ghost soap, which I also didn't interact with . people on twitter called me out yesterday, for retweeting (months before this incident) other art they'd made as evidence I stood by/encouraged/was an avid fan of all these tropes. The art I retweeted wasn't either of these previous examples of art, but one where ghost and soap were sleeping in a bed together, as adults, peacefully. I can't emphasise enough that I have not interacted with this artist at all, for over six months. The callout in question has framed me as a close friend of theirs when, in truth, our total timeline of interactions could probably be counted on one hand, and I haven't interacted with her in so long that I genuinely forgot I was still following her.

The crux of all is this is that I did not unfollow + block this artist earlier on when the racist art was posted months ago, and then I retweeted a fic tagged with "non-con" (ghost gets soap off in a context where he can't really properly consent, they're in front of a crowd of strangers and they have to fuck, but both parties are into each other) written by a friend as I wanted to support their writing.

The pedophile claims are because I retweeted a fandom bingo post that defended loli-con without reading all the squares properly, and then immediately un-retweeted it when I properly read it. All in all, the post was on my account for maybe a few minutes.

The zoophile claims are because people say i support someone who wrote zoophilic fic and called people slurs, and I genuinely don't know who they're talking about there.

The anti-asian racism claims come from the original accusers in the callout thread thinking that I made Horangi's eyes in the monster!AU sensitive as a way of making fun of Asian eyes. The real reason is because he's a cat hybrid in that AU and cats are sensitive to light.

I tried addressing all this in a casual way earlier on in a misguided attempt to sort things out more 'civilly', and responded to an ask talking about my "support" for the artist who drew the slave Gaz art by saying the fanart in question was tone deaf and in poor taste. It wasn't enough for some people, so I'm happy to say it clearly- yes, it was racist, and the reason why I didn't want to be more aggressive is because I didn't want to extend all this mess by throwing this artist directly to the wolves - I genuinely believed them at the time when they said that wasn't that their intention, and think they should've deleted the post at the time, but not unfollowing was a decision that I made. I know now upon reflection that it was naive of me, unwarranted and frankly irresponsible to take a stranger at face value and believe they had good intentions, when the act of not deleting the post in question was evidence of a lack in remorse. In the moment, I'd thought back to my own personal experience with a friend of mine who used an asian slur in my company, who later sincerely apologised and legitimately cleaned up his act after I gave him a second chance. It informed my choice to not unfollow at the time, but there's a difference between someone you know irl for months and a stranger on the internet you've interacted with a few times. I shouldn't have coddled them in my response, and I'm sorry for not treating it with the severity it deserved. It was callous, and stupid, and indicative of internal biases that I ever thought it was a light enough offence to "see through", and I deeply deeply apologise. I promise from the bottom of my heart to do better.

That's everything so far. I didn't unfollow an artist when I absolutely should've, which i'll always strongly regret. I also retweeted a properly-tagged fic on my clearly 18+ nsfw account. I've undone both of those actions now. I hope this can be the end of it.

[pocketsizedowls]

My Conspiracy Theory about Natlan's Pale Characters

I started playing Genshin Impact around the 3.7 update, right after the Interdarshan Championship. While I wasn't around during the initial spark of outrage against Sumeru due to the characters' overall lack of melanin, I eventually learned a lot about Sumeru's cultural inspirations through the SWANA and South Asian creators in the fandom. I think it's beautiful how we learn about each other's cultures through Genshin, and I believe the designers at Hoyoverse do lots of research to facilitate these conversations. This is why I think it's a shame that Natlan, which features rich Indigenous cultures in the Americas, Africa, and Pacific Islands, features primarily pale characters AGAIN.

While it's possible that through the art, story, and fashion of Natlan we will once again learn about the diverse cultures of Indigenous Americas, West Africa, and the Pacific Islands, I don't think it's enough. Considering a lot of these cultures take pride in their skin color and bodies through tattoos, body paint, and other markings/piercings, Hoyoverse is doing a disservice to today's Latin American, African, and Pacific islander fan base by making the majority of Natlan characters pale. To insensitively cherry-pick what traits of each culture to represent and what to discard is the definition of cultural appropriation and racism, which is such a shame because of how many discussions about culture that Genshin has started since 2020. As a Chinese American player, I'm especially disappointed that the company who educated so many people about my culture is failing my brown and Black friends to such a spectacular degree.

Many people have come up with excuses such as it's just skin, it's just a game, Hoyoverse is a Chinese company so what do you expect, Latin America also has white people, etc. I won't bother debunking these myths because there are plenty of people doing this labor already, but what I do want to bring people's attention to is the fact that many Natlan characters were most likely designed with darker skin in mind. Through fanmade recolorings (here's an example), I noticed that Mualani and Kachina's tan lines and skin details look more pronounced with darker skin, while Xilonen looks more mature and Kinich looks more brooding. Having studied studio art during undergrad, I cannot unsee these intentional artistic decisions and cannot shake the possibility that the researchers and character designers of Hoyoverse were forced by higherups to whitewash everyone at the very last minute. If this is true, I hope Hoyoverse will find some way to reverse their decision or turn a new leaf in the future. Considering many other Chinese games like Reverse: 1999 and Dislyte already have diverse representation and melanated characters, Hoyoverse should find no problem following their lead.

As of right now (i.e. 4.8 update), Genshin players from all over the world are expressing their dissatisfaction with Hoyoverse through boycotts, review bombing, and posting on social media. The Chinese fanbase - Hoyoverse's primary audience - is especially vocal and organized about their efforts, which means if Hoyoverse doesn't notice now, they will notice soon. Despite how much we like using Genshin as an escape from real life, it's important to recognize how insidious the consequences of erasing melanated characters can be. Anti-Blackness and colorism harm people on the daily, which is why we must speak up when a company as big and influential as Hoyoverse is doing the harming.

Thanks for reading! Here are some related threads from X, formally known as Twitter:

Petition to "Stop Cultural Appropriation and Whitewashing in MiHoYo Games"

Valeria Rodriguez, i.e. Surcrose's English VA's thoughts on Natlan

Natlan Characters Look Better with a Dark Skintone

Kaveh rerunning in 4.8 is a ploy for WHAT!?!?!?

We Should All Email Hoyoverse

Official Account for HYV Boycott

[jakei95]

[Post in English] Something Nyx and I want to publicly address, regarding the recent allegations in the Glitchtale Crew's Discord Server and it's moderators. I really apologize for the upcoming wall of text. These are our Twitter threads I have pasted them here, in case you don't have access to said platform. I have also added some additional notes to provide more context. All details under the line:

NyxTheShield: (Transcription from his official twitter thread) I read some mean comments lately and I just wanna be super clear: I havent been related to Glitchtale since at least 2022. I never considered myself part of the community and went through some much shit while doing stuff for it that my mental health was completely destroyed.

For people who thought I was an admin of the server, that was just in paper. I was constantly de-admin'd, demodded and kicked from the server through the years for simple stuff like asking the rest of the mod team to not say slurs or standing up against the Midnight Crew. I personally left the server for a long while because I really did not want to be around some of the people there. All of this happened years ago (from 2016~ to around 2020). On the early years, my full income came from Youtube/Glitchtale. I was a broke college student and my economic stability depended on it. Despite this, and making literally hundred of tracks and hours of music for the series, most of the income came from my own ad revenue. I was paid less than 2000 USD for all of the work. Essentially, I was paid in exposure.

This wouldn't have been an issue for me if at least I got to keep my artistic vision with the series. That didn't hold true for long.

From the second season and onwards, and in multiple instances, I would score the entire OST for the episode, watch the episode when it released, and then find out a completely new section of the episode (usually a battle scene) with music from somebody else This was completely demotivating to me because I wasn't being paid, the tracks would not fit the rest of the OST at all, and most of the income I made from the battle scenes. I had to work for weeks trying to compose music for glorified powerpoint presentations (Basically everything that's not a battle scene on the series was just still frames of characters barely moving) and do all the heavy lifting and I wasn't even let known about the guest tracks.

This added to the feeling of having absolutely no power within the community. I don't know if this was intentional or not (I don't wanna presume malice), but all of these things together contributed to me distancing myself from the community.

Honestly, there is A LOT more shit that went down these early years that are extremely traumatic to me that I would prefer to not talk about unless completely necessary, but I feel this is a good amount of context for what I wanna talk about next.

As you might be aware, extremely serious (and true) allegations were made against Camila and his partner, Veir, which was accused of grooming minors from 2015 to 2021 There are really good videos out there explaining the entire timeline of what transpired, but I specifically wanna talk about 2020.

(Jakei's note: Links to said videos are here: [1] [2] [3])

In that year, a public document was made by my head mod CrystalFlame alongside 2 other mods in the GT server, that exposed Veir and their actions. This document went mostly unnoticed. Even more, Crystal went through a lot of abuse for coming forward about their abuse and was almost ostracized from the UT AU community because of this.

Because of this, I was asked directly by one of the victims (and also representing the other victims) to please not speak up (Citing that they just wanted to move on and didn't want to involve themselves with more problems and expose themselves)

All the info was kept very vague from me, including the people who were involved, the extent of the stuff that went down, etc But I knew enough to know it was serious. I followed their request and didn't speak up publicly about this, but I banned Veir from my server, warned all of my mods and people close to me in those circles about Veir, and constantly tried to get Camila to please adress the situation. Despite this, she did not listen and we all know how stuff went down later in 2022, where the allegations came back again with full force. This time around I wasnt asked to stay silent so I spread the word around and confronted the entire mod team. I was shortly banned after that.

I needed to address this because this thing has been eating me alive for years. I was intentionally kept in the dark about a lot of context and nuance that would have completely changed my mind about speaking up or not about what happened in 2020.

Everything is easier in retrospective, and with the knowledge I now have about the situation I know for a fact that I would have spoken up about all that happened. But being asked directly to not speak up by the victims was something that goes against what I am Sorry for the long rant, but I really needed to get this off my chest. I am tired of having to deal with this kind of stuff. As a content creator/public figure I am trying my hardest to keep the communities I am active in as safe as possible.

I feel I could have done more for the Glitchtale community regarding the grooming situation, but all of the years of abuse that I endured really fucked up my judgement. I am not very good at dealing with people and I always trust the people close to help me for this kind of stuff

Sadly, in this case, those same people who were close to me were also the victims, so they couldnt have known or had a way to help me out, I should have helped them instead. Most if not all of what was described in this thread is backed up by screenshots, chat logs, and direct testimony from the people who were involved during this time.

I don't want to direct hate to anyone or start a witchhunt, I am doing this purely to decompress a bit and try to vent some of the trauma I experienced all these years.

============================================

Jakei: (Transcription from my official twitter thread) I would also like to share my experiences about my relationship with the Glitchtale Creator, Camila Cuevas. Publicly, we appeared as close friends, but in reality, that friendship was based on bullying and mistreatment, and this affected my mental health deeply.

Years have passed, and the memories still cause me pain. I decided to remain silent, but after the revelations of grooming cases in her community, I realized I wasn’t being too sensitive. The time has come to speak up about my experiences.

During the early years of Underverse, I was dealing with a serious depressive episode. Simultaneous internal and external pressures as an independent artist amplified my mental strain. Meeting Camila felt like finding a genuine friend who shared my passion for the fandom and understood the struggles of being a content creator amidst toxicity. At my lowest, I became compliant to doing things that I didn’t want to, just to keep people around me happy. For Camila, this meant allowing her to belittle my work and make me the butt of her jokes.

Only our veteran followers may remember the 'roasting games' between us on Tumblr (consisting of mutual insults), a spectacle where she'd always win. However, it was a game she privately forced me to "play" and I ended up accepting, despite the discomfort it caused me. These 'games' would give her a cool and strong image in the fandom while painting me as the dumb, 'cringe-worthy' friend. In essence, I became her personal punching bag, unknowingly reinforcing his reputation.

Camila's favorite term to demean my series 'Underverse' was “Cancerverse”. It felt like a constant contest where she'd always position herself as the superior writer and animator simply because my story and animation techniques didn't fit her standards. Years of being subjected to her ridicule left my self-esteem in ruins. I was okay with the negative feedback by some fans, but when my 'friend' publicly disrespected my art, it made me question my abilities as an artist.

I can't deny there were times when she gave me advice to deal with hate or hurtful comments. However, her damaging comments and treatment outweighed those moments of support.

My depressive state worsened around July 2017, where I had accepted people pushing me to do things I wasn’t comfortable with, while being part of Camila's demeaning games, just to appease her ego. I was introduced to Nyx during this time, he offered his music for my series, and eventually we started dating. We met in person in Chile, where I also met Camila. I hoped our friendship would strengthen but everything felt the same. Before I moved to Chile with Nyx, Camila reached out to me in dms, attempting to turn me against him because he opposed the use of slurs in the GT server. She claimed Nyx was being 'brainwashed' by his American friends belonging to the black and LGBTQ+ communities. She made fun of my dating choices, suggesting I was entering a toxic relationship, while showing off her relationship with her then-boyfriend (later exposed as a pedophile). She even quoted her own mother assuring me that Nyx would 'get back to normal', and if it didn’t happen, she would let me live in her house, almost like if she was telling me that Nyx would hurt me or make me feel miserable.

It only took Nyx 3 months to realize that the GT server was going in the wrong way. I initially felt compelled to defend Camila due to my inferiority complex, but soon realized Nyx was right. (Jakei's note: Not only Nyx was right, a lot of people that called her out over the years were right, yet they were not listened to at the time)

Even then, I found it difficult to distance myself from Camila due to the false sense of obligation I felt towards her. My fear of her making fun of my work kept me from interacting with others in the short period of time I stayed in her Discord server. I was afraid that she and her echo chamber would talk behind my back, something that I found out was happening in private chats until recent years.

Rebuilding my self-esteem wasn't an easy task. I began noticing the red flags – Camila's lack of respect not only for me but Nyx also, the emotional manipulation Nyx was suffering from Veir (something he used to do all the time with his other victims), her attempts to 'roast' me in front of her family and fans in the Underverse/Glitchtale meetings, and her constant criticism of my artstyle not being compatible to hers in the few collabs we made.

All these 'small' instances, dismissed as insignificant by many, caused me immense pain while treating my depression. I felt it was too late to express how I felt, as I feared being labeled as attention-seeking or oversensitive by her and her fanbase. Ironically, the moment she talked about her traumas after being bullied in the past, her feelings were the only ones that mattered any time she was involved in a problematic situation in the fandom and deserved to be the only to get pats in the back.

I never expected a sincere apology, as I was convinced she didn't remember or didn't care about the hurt she caused. I tried to maintain a facade of good terms with her, both publicly and privately. Eventually, I distanced myself from her, unfriending her and banning her from my own server even if she didn't interact there. I started focusing on my own work and the people who appreciated it. Despite this, the aftermath of the bullying continued to affect me.

Everything fell into place when the grooming accusations against her former boyfriend and server mods came to light. It was a shocking revelation, but it validated all my doubts and fears about her. The purpose of sharing my experiences is not to stir up drama, but to address the concerns of those worried about my association with Camila. I want to make it clear that I will never tolerate such behavior. Although the things I did for her in the past cannot be erased, I hope Camila at least deletes the animation remake I did for her and all the collabs that boosted her views for free, though I'm not optimistic about it happening.

As I've matured, my hope is that she and her crew learn from their mistakes, start behaving like adults, and take responsibility for their actions in their future projects and with their new followers. But I'm skeptical about any real change, especially if their server continues to exist. The best course of action for me was to cut all ties with Camila and Glitchtale.

NyxTheShield (now my husband) and I have endured too much from our treatment by Camila. We no longer want to be associated with her or Glitchtale. It's a chapter of our lives that we wish to close. It's time for us to focus on recovering our mental health, as remaining silent is only prolonging our pain. We have been working to improve our mental and physical health over the past few years and this is a crucial part of our healing process.

[keehomania]

nevertheless (알고있지만) – jeon jungkook (전정국)

✧.* 18+

attachment was a curious thing. it began subtly, weaving its tendrils through the fabric of your life without notice, like the first soft blush of dawn on a still, sleepy horizon. at first, it seemed innocuous, a delicate thread that merely tugged gently at the edges of your existence, a whisper of a presence that was easily overlooked.

yet, in its essence, attachment was a powerful force, beautiful and treacherous. it painted the world in vivid hues, each moment tinged with a significance that it otherwise wouldn't have possessed. the simplest actions—a smile, a touch, a shared silence—became imbued with profound meaning. your heart swelled, enraptured by the beauty of connection, and your soul reveled in the comfort of knowing and being known.

as the days passed, those gentle threads of attachment intertwined, forming an intricate tapestry. each shared experience, each memory, added a new thread, strengthening the bond and deepening the sense of unity. it was a masterpiece of human emotion, a testament to the power of connection that filled your heart with warmth and light. the world felt richer, more vibrant, as if seen through a lens that sharpened every detail and amplified every sensation. but attachment, for all its beauty, carried a darker undertone. like a vine creeping up the side of a grand old mansion, it began to strangle, its grip tightening imperceptibly. what was once a source of joy and comfort transformed into a source of anxiety and fear. the delicate balance between freedom and dependence tipped, and your heart, once light and free, grew heavy with the weight of expectation and longing.

In this duality lay the true peril of attachment. It was a slow, insidious poison, sweet in its initial taste but deadly as it coursed through your veins. The same connection that brought life and color could, in an instant, become a noose, choking the very essence of the self. Your mind became consumed with thoughts of the other, every moment apart a silent torment, every slight perceived as a dagger to the heart.

you loved attachment. you loved love. the depth of your emotions was a wellspring of inspiration, each feeling a stroke of color, a line in a sketch, a form in a block of clay. you embraced your emotions, delving into their depths because they breathed life into your art. sculpting and painting were your lifelines, your way of interpreting the world and expressing the inexpressible. you found beauty in every raw edge, every shade of shadow and light, every curve and angle that made up the diverse tapestry of art. art was your sanctuary, a realm where diversity reigned supreme. each piece, whether a painting or a sculpture, told a unique story, resonated with a distinct voice. you loved the freedom it granted, the way it allowed you to channel your deepest feelings into something tangible, something that could be seen and touched. the fluidity of art mirrored the fluidity of your emotions, capturing the fleeting, the ephemeral, and the eternal in one breathtaking sweep.

what you didn't love, was attending your boyfriend's opening art show to show your support, only to find yourself standing in front of what he deemed his masterpiece. the centerpiece of the entire exhibit was a sculpture of you, rendered in painstaking detail, nude, in a scandalous position. the marble gleamed under the gallery lights, every curve and line of your body exposed for the world to see. jackson saw it as a pinnacle of his artistic achievement, a celebration of your form and your intimacy. he looked at it with pride, his eyes shining with the fervor of creation. but to you, it was a betrayal, a public humiliation. every whisper, every gaze, felt like a thousand needles piercing your skin, stripping away your dignity layer by layer. the room seemed to close in on you, the walls pressing inward as the weight of judgment and exposure crushed your spirit.

you couldn't breathe. the air was thick, suffocating, filled with the murmurs of the onlookers and the indifferent hum of the gallery. your chest tightened, panic rising as your eyes darted around for an escape. you felt the sting of tears, hot and unforgiving, blurring your vision. without thinking, you turned and ran, the murmurs growing louder, more accusing, as you fled the gallery. you ran until your legs burned, until your breath came in ragged gasps, until the noise and the lights of the gallery were far behind you. you stumbled onto a set of stairs, collapsing onto them, your strength spent. the world around you faded into a blur, and you buried your face in your hands, the sobs wracking your body.

the cold stone of the steps pressed against your skin, grounding you in the midst of your turmoil. you cried for the trust that had been broken, for the exposure you hadn't asked for, for the art that had turned against you. you had loved attachment, had loved love, had embraced every emotion because it allowed you to create. but in that moment, it felt like those very emotions were tearing you apart, leaving you raw and vulnerable, exposed to the harsh judgment of the world.

your tears flowed freely, each one a testament to the pain and the betrayal you felt. the love you had cherished, the attachment you had valued, seemed like cruel mockeries, twisting the knife deeper into your heart. you had poured your soul into your art, into your relationship, only to have it thrown back at you in the most brutal of ways. and so you cried, the steps becoming your sanctuary, the darkness of the night offering a cold, indifferent comfort as you wept for the love and the attachment that had led you to this moment of utter despair.

jackson trailed behind you, the sound of his footsteps echoing against the cold night air. when he found you on the steps, crumpled and broken, he paused, his silhouette stark against the dim streetlights. for a moment, he simply watched, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of you crying, your body wracked with sobs. the indifference in his gaze was chilling, a sharp contrast to the tenderness you had once believed existed between you.

“what the fuck are you doing?” he demanded, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “causing a scene like that in the middle of my show?” you looked up, your face streaked with tears, your eyes red and swollen from crying. “you humiliated me,” you choked out, your voice trembling. “you’ve shit all over my reputation.”

his eyes flashed with anger and disdain. “you have no idea what art is,” he spat. “you’re clueless. that sculpture was a masterpiece, a celebration of you, and you just made a fool of yourself and me.” his words struck you like physical blows, each one harder than the last. you struggled to find your voice, to make him understand the depth of your hurt. “it wasn’t art,” you whispered. “it was a betrayal. you exposed me to everyone, without my consent, without even thinking about how i would feel.”

he scoffed, his lips curling into a sneer. “you’re overreacting. you always do. that piece was about beauty, about vulnerability. you’re just too blind to see it.”

with that, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you alone on the steps, your tears flowing freely once more. the echo of his footsteps faded into the night, leaving a void where his presence had been. you felt as if the ground had opened up beneath you, swallowing you in a chasm of despair and betrayal. you knew what art was. art was your lifeblood, your passion, your way of making sense of the world. you understood its power, its ability to evoke emotions and provoke thought. nevertheless, in that moment, you realized you had forgotten what love was. love wasn’t supposed to feel like that. it wasn’t supposed to leave you feeling exposed and vulnerable, abandoned and broken.

the steps were cold and unforgiving beneath you, a cruel reminder of the harsh reality you found yourself in. the night pressed in around you, its silence a stark contrast to the turmoil inside your heart. you had loved him, had believed in the connection you shared, but now it felt like a cruel joke, a painful illusion. you sat there, your face buried in your hands, trying to piece together the fragments of your shattered heart. the art you had loved, the emotions you had cherished, all seemed tainted now, twisted by the betrayal you had experienced. you had thought you understood love, had believed in its beauty and its power, but now it felt like a distant memory, something you couldn’t quite grasp.

and so you cried, the tears falling silently as you tried to make sense of the pain, the betrayal, the loss. you cried for the love that had turned into a weapon, for the art that had been twisted into something cruel. you cried for the trust that had been broken, and for the heart that had been shattered. in the quiet of the night, you felt the weight of your emotions, their depth and their intensity. you had loved deeply, had felt every emotion with a fervor that fueled your art. but in that moment, on those cold steps, you felt the sharp sting of love’s betrayal, and the emptiness it left behind.

the night wore on, the stars glittering coldly above, indifferent to your pain. and as you sat there, alone and broken, you realized that while you understood art, you had forgotten what love truly was. it wasn’t the grand gestures or the passionate declarations. it was the quiet moments of understanding, the gentle touch of reassurance, the unspoken bond that held two hearts together. you had forgotten that love was supposed to heal, not hurt. it was supposed to uplift, not tear down. and in that moment, you vowed to remember, to never let anyone make you forget again. the tears continued to fall, but beneath them, a resolve began to form, a determination to reclaim the love and the art that were rightfully yours, to find the strength to rise from the ashes of your heartbreak and create anew.

the club was a throbbing pulse of music and light, a sanctuary for those seeking to drown their sorrows or celebrate fleeting moments of joy. you found yourself there, the need to escape the pain and humiliation driving you to its neon embrace. the air was thick with the scent of sweat, alcohol, and anticipation, each beat of the music resonating through your body like a heartbeat. you made your way to the bar, ordering a drink to numb the ache in your chest. the liquid was a fiery solace, burning down your throat and spreading warmth through your veins. one drink turned into another, and another, as you tried to drink the night away, to forget the betrayal, the hurt, the sculpture that had stripped you bare in more ways than one.

but as the air grew tighter and the room spun slightly with the haze of alcohol, you felt the need for a moment of clarity, of fresh air. you stepped outside, the cool night air a contrast to the suffocating atmosphere of the club. reaching into your pocket, you pulled out a box of cigarettes, your fingers fumbling as you searched for your lighter. It was gone, lost in the chaos of the night.

“fuck,” you muttered quietly, frustration boiling over. as you looked up, you saw a man standing nearby, a smile playing on his lips as he flicked his lighter open. the small flame danced in the darkness, casting a warm glow on his face. “need a light?” he asked, his voice smooth and warm, like a balm to your frayed nerves.

you nodded, a grateful smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “yeah, thanks.” he stepped closer, the flame catching the tip of your cigarette. you inhaled deeply, the smoke curling into your lungs and bringing a strange sense of calm. as you exhaled, he cracked a joke, something about fate bringing a cigarette and a lighter together. you laughed, the sound surprising you with its lightness.

he lit his own cigarette, taking a drag as he turned slightly, giving you a glimpse of the tattoo on the back of his neck—a butterfly, delicate and intricate, its wings poised as if ready to take flight. “that’s a beautiful tattoo,” you said, your eyes tracing the lines of the butterfly. he glanced back at you, a faint smile touching his lips. “thanks. i like butterflies. got a few of them at home.”

“they’re beautiful,” you admitted, the honesty in your voice surprising even you. “especially monarch butterflies. there’s something about them that’s just mesmerizing.” he didn’t respond immediately, instead reaching into his pocket and pulling out a marker. taking your hand gently, he began to draw, the marker’s tip gliding over your skin. when he finished, he held up your wrist, showing you the butterfly he had drawn there—a monarch, its wings spread wide in a silent declaration of beauty and freedom.

“now you have a butterfly of your own,” he said, his voice soft but carrying an undercurrent of warmth. “to remind you of their beauty.”

you looked at the butterfly on your wrist, a smile forming on your lips. it was a small gesture, but it held a world of meaning, a moment of connection that pierced through the haze of pain and alcohol. “thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible above the city’s distant hum. he nodded, a silent smile on his face, before turning and walking back into the club, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the butterfly on your wrist. the night seemed a little less dark, the weight of your emotions a little lighter.

as you stood there, the cigarette burning slowly between your fingers, you felt a glimmer of hope, a reminder that even in the darkest moments, beauty could still be found. the butterfly was a symbol, a promise that you could find your way back to the love and the art that had always been your sanctuary. you took another drag of your cigarette, the smoke swirling around you like a protective veil. the club’s music thumped in the background, a distant reminder of the chaos you had escaped. but in this moment, with the butterfly on your wrist and the memory of a stranger’s kindness, you felt a small but significant shift within you.

the next day, you found solace in the familiar embrace of your studio. the room was filled with the quiet hum of creativity, the soft scraping of tools against clay, the muted whispers of students deep in their work. your hands moved deftly over the surface of your sculpture, the tactile sensation of the material grounding you, offering a brief respite from the emotional turmoil that still lingered from the night before. your fingers traced the curves and lines, each motion a silent meditation, an attempt to channel the chaos inside you into something tangible, something beautiful. the sculpture began to take shape, a reflection of your innermost thoughts and feelings, an expression of the vulnerability and strength that intertwined within you.

as you lost yourself in the rhythm of your work, the studio door creaked open, and your friend poked her head in. jihyo was a vibrant presence, her energy infectious, and her smile always managing to brighten the darkest of days. “hey, you,” she called, waving you over. “let's step out for a smoke. you look like you need a break.”

you hesitated, your hands still covered in clay, but her insistence was hard to resist. with a sigh, you wiped your hands and followed her out, the studio door closing softly behind you. the fresh air was a welcome change, and the courtyard was quiet, a peaceful oasis amidst the bustling campus. jihyo handed you a cigarette, and you lit it, the familiar act bringing a semblance of calm. she leaned against the wall, her eyes narrowing as she studied you. “alright, spill it. what’s bugging you?”

you took a drag of your cigarette, the smoke curling around you. “jackson and i broke up,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. her eyes widened in surprise. “what? when? what happened?”

you recounted the events of the previous night, the betrayal and humiliation still raw in your mind. as you spoke, her expression shifted from shock to anger.

“he did what?” she exclaimed, her voice rising. “that sick son of a bitch, how could he think that was okay?” you shrugged, the weight of it all pressing down on you. “he called it art. i called it betrayal. we saw things differently.”

jihyo shook her head, her anger palpable. “you deserve so much better than that. he had no right to expose you like that.” as she spoke, you caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of your eye. your heart skipped a beat as you recognized the man from the previous night. he was walking by, his posture relaxed, but his eyes met yours, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. the recognition in his gaze mirrored your own, a silent acknowledgment of the shared moment you had experienced.

he seemed as shocked as you were, but he recovered quickly, a smile tugging at his lips. you couldn’t help but smile back, the memory of his kindness a small comfort in the midst of your turmoil. “hey, jihyo,” you said, nudging her gently and nodding in his direction. “do you know who that is?”

she followed your gaze, her eyes narrowing as she took in the sight of him. “oh, that’s jeon jungkook. he works in the building department. total slut, though. you should keep your distance.” her words were blunt, her tone dismissive, but you couldn’t help but feel a pang of curiosity. jungkook glanced back at you once more before continuing on his way, the smile still lingering on his face. you watched him go, the memory of his smile and the butterfly he had drawn on your wrist vivid in your mind.

you nodded absently, still watching him from a distance. “yeah, sure. i’ll keep that in mind.” as the two of you finished your cigarettes and headed back to the studio, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was different from the way jihyo described him. there was a gentleness in his eyes, a quiet kindness that intrigued you. you didn’t know what the future held, but for now, the memory of his smile and the butterfly on your wrist gave you a small glimmer of hope, a reminder that beauty and kindness could still be found, even in the most unexpected places.

back in the studio, you lost yourself once more in the clay, the rhythm of your movements a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. each touch, each stroke of your tools, was an act of creation, a way to channel the tumult of emotions into something tangible. the world outside the studio faded away, leaving only the quiet hum of creativity and the comforting solidity of your sculpture.

the creak of the door barely registered in your focused state. it wasn’t until you sensed a presence directly in front of you that you looked up, your hands pausing mid-motion. there he was, jeon jungkook, the man from the night before, sitting casually on a stool, his eyes bright with curiosity and amusement. he smiled, a warm, easy smile that seemed to light up the room. “you work with such intensity,” he remarked, his voice carrying a note of genuine admiration. “it’s really impressive.”

“thanks,” you replied, your mind flashing back to jihyo’s warning about him. you tried to keep your expression neutral, though his unexpected presence had thrown you off balance.

his gaze drifted to your wrist, where the butterfly he had drawn still lingered. “the butterfly is still there,” he noted with a hint of satisfaction. you looked down at the delicate sketch, a small smile tugging at your lips. “yeah, seems like she likes it there.”

“she does,” he agreed, a playful glint in his eye. “but i think she’d like a drink more. would you wanna grab one with me?” for a moment, you hesitated, jihyo’s words echoing in your mind: “total slut, though. you should keep your distance.” but there was something about him, something that intrigued you. his easy confidence, his unexpected kindness from the night before—curiosity got the better of you.

“sure,” you said, nodding. “i'd like that.” his smile widened, and he stood, offering his hand to help you up. his touch was warm, steadying you as you wiped the clay from your hands. the studio felt different now, charged with a new energy, as you left with him, the door closing softly behind you.

as you and him left walked, the conversation continued to flow effortlessly between you. the city lights cast a warm glow on the streets, and the night air was crisp, a perfect backdrop for the unexpected connection forming between you. “so, why have i never seen you around before?” jungkook asked, his hands casually tucked into his pockets as you walked side by side.

you shrugged, a small smile playing on your lips. “i’m usually in the sculpting department. it’s a bit tucked away, not many people venture there unless they have a reason to.” his eyes lit up with interest. “sculpting, huh? that’s pretty cool. i’ve always wanted to try it, but my parents insisted on something more practical. hence, the building department.”

you glanced at him, curiosity piqued. “you should chase your own freedom,” you said earnestly. “do what makes you happy.” he chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm. “all i chase is freedom. it’s a problem, really. but it’s why i resonate with butterflies so much. they’re the ultimate symbol of freedom and transformation.” you walked in comfortable silence for a moment, contemplating his words. jungkook’s outlook on life was refreshing, a stark contrast to the rigid expectations that had been imposed on you by others.

as you approached the bar, the lively atmosphere enveloped you. jungkook led you to a section of the room dedicated to dart throwing. the area was bustling with energy, the sound of laughter and friendly competition filling the air. “ever played darts before?” he asked, picking up a dart and spinning it expertly between his fingers. you shook your head, feeling a bit out of your element. “no, i’ve never tried it.”

he grinned, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. “well, it’s time you learned.” he turned to the dartboard, aiming with practiced ease and throwing the dart. It hit the center perfectly, a bullseye. “show-off,” you teased, impressed by his skill. he laughed, handing you a dart. “come on, give it a shot. i’ll help you.”

you took the dart, feeling a bit unsure. jungkook moved behind you, his presence close and comforting. he placed one arm gently around your waist, guiding your hand with the other. the warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine. “just relax,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “focus on the target.”

with his guidance, you raised your arm and threw the dart. it flew straight, hitting the middle of the board. you turned to face him, your eyes meeting his. there was a shared moment of triumph and connection, your heart fluttering at the intensity of his gaze. “see? you’ve got it,” he said softly, a proud smile lighting up his face.

you couldn’t help but smile back, the feeling of accomplishment mingling with a growing sense of attraction. for the rest of the evening, you played a few more rounds, each throw bringing you closer, both physically and emotionally. the drinks flowed, the conversation deepened, and laughter punctuated the night. as the night drew to a close, he insisted on walking you home. the streets were quieter now, the city settling into a peaceful rhythm. when you reached your doorstep, he turned to face you, his expression tender.

“i had a great time tonight,” he said, his voice sincere. “thank you for joining me.”

“me too,” you replied, feeling a warmth spread through you. “i’m glad i came.” he stepped closer, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. he leaned in, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. the simple gesture was filled with warmth and affection, sending a rush of emotions through you.

“good night,” he whispered, his lips lingering for a moment before he pulled away. you watched him walk off into the night, your heart fluttering in your chest. the evening had been unexpected, a whirlwind of emotions and connections that left you feeling both exhilarated and introspective. as you turned to enter your home, you couldn’t help but smile, the memory of his kiss still warm on your skin.

the morning sun filtered through the trees as you walked to your campus with jihyo. the campus was beginning to stir with activity, the hustle of students preparing for the day ahead. the air was filled with the familiar sounds of footsteps, chatter, and the distant hum of city life. jihyo made sure to get a headstart, indulging in her morning vape, the sweet aroma curling around you as you walked side by side. she passed the vape to you, and you took a slow drag, savoring the fleeting tranquility before the day's demands took over. you exhaled, the vapor mingling with the crisp morning air.

as you continued your walk, you recounted the events of the previous night, your voice animated as you described jungkook’s unexpected kindness and the enjoyable evening you had shared. she listened intently, though her expression remained skeptical, her brows furrowing in concern. “and then,” you finished, handing the vape back to her, “he walked me home and gave me a kiss on the forehead. it was really sweet.”

she took a long drag, her eyes narrowing slightly. “it sounds like you had a nice time, but—” she exhaled a cloud of vapor, “—you’re playing with fire, you know that?” you raised an eyebrow, a hint of defensiveness creeping into your voice. “come on, ji. you’re being way too judgmental. he's not like that, he's different.”

she gave you a skeptical look, shaking her head. “i’m just saying, be careful. you don’t know him that well yet.”

you were about to respond when you both froze mid-step. your gaze followed jihyo’s, and you saw him up ahead on the sidewalk. your heart skipped a beat, but this time, he wasn’t alone. he was walking with another girl, his arm draped casually around her shoulders. they seemed at ease with each other, sharing an intimate, comfortable closeness. jihyo glanced at you, her expression a mixture of sympathy and concern. “well,” she said softly, “i guess i wasn’t wrong.”

you stood there, feeling the weight of her words. the sight of jungkook with someone else was a jarring contrast to the warmth you had felt the previous night. it was as if the bubble of the evening’s enchantment had burst, leaving you to confront a reality that you had momentarily ignored.

the girl beside jungkook looked at him with a smile, and he responded with a tender gaze. it was a simple, yet intimate exchange that spoke volumes. the contrast between last night’s connection and this morning’s reality was stark, and you felt a pang of disappointment. jihyo’s hand rested gently on your shoulder, her voice comforting. “i'm sorry, i didn’t mean to rub it in. i just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

you nodded, feeling a lump in your throat. “i know. it’s just, i thought there was something real there. maybe i was wrong.” jihyo sighed, taking another drag from her vape. “you weren’t wrong to feel what you felt, just be cautious. sometimes people aren’t as straightforward as they seem.”

you watched as jungkook and the girl walked further down the street, their figures eventually disappearing from view. the sight had left you feeling unsettled, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. the confidence you had felt the night before now seemed fragile, overshadowed by the uncertainty of this new revelation.

as you and jihyo resumed your walk, the campus loomed ahead, its familiar buildings a reminder of the routine and responsibilities awaiting you. the conversation shifted to other topics, but the weight of the morning’s encounter lingered, a reminder that even fleeting connections could carry unexpected complexities. you couldn’t help but reflect on his words about freedom and butterflies, wondering how they fit into this new, unsettling reality. the morning had started with promise but had given way to a reality that was less clear-cut, leaving you to navigate the delicate balance between hope and caution.

the studio was a sanctuary of focused energy and creative chaos. you found solace in the rhythm of your hands working the clay, shaping it with deliberate precision. each stroke was a meditative practice, allowing you to channel your thoughts and emotions into the art before you. jihyo, her boyfriend, and his sister had settled nearby. minho was absorbed in his own project, while jihyo and minyoung chatted softly, their voices a comforting background hum. the three of them had a natural camaraderie that brought a sense of ease to the studio. minyoung’s laughter rang out occasionally, a bright and cheerful sound that contrasted with the solemnity of your own concentration.

as you sculpted, your thoughts drifted back to jungkook. the image of him walking with another girl played over in your mind, like a record stuck on repeat. the warmth of last night seemed distant now, replaced by the chill of reality. you tried to push the thoughts aside, focusing instead on the form taking shape in your hands. minyoung’s voice broke through your reverie. “hey, we’re planning to head over to ji’s place tonight for a little get-together. we’re gonna have some drinks and hang out with a few friends from campus. you should come.”

you looked up, momentarily distracted from your work. “that sounds fun,” you said, though your voice betrayed a hint of reluctance. the idea of socializing was appealing, but the thought of seeing jungkook again—especially in a group setting—left you feeling unsettled. jihyo noticed your hesitation and gave you a reassuring smile. “come on, it’ll be good for you. you’ve had a rough couple of days. a change of scenery might help you feel better.”

uou nodded, forcing a smile. “yeah, i guess you’re right. i’ll come.” minyoung’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. “great! it’ll be nice to hang out and unwind. we’re all looking forward to it.”

as the conversation shifted back to other topics, you tried to immerse yourself in the rhythm of sculpting once more. the tactile sensation of the clay beneath your fingers was grounding, a small comfort amidst the whirlwind of emotions. despite your efforts, your mind kept returning to Jungkook. the casual intimacy you had witnessed, the way he had interacted with the girl—every detail seemed to replay itself in your thoughts. jihyo and minho were absorbed in their conversation with minyoung, their voices a blend of excitement and lightheartedness. Occasionally, jihyo would glance over at you, her expression a mix of concern and encouragement. her presence was a reminder of the friendship and support you had, even when things felt uncertain.

the minutes ticked by as you worked, the sculpting process a meditative balm for your frayed nerves. each detail you added to your piece was a small victory, a way to reclaim a sense of control amidst the emotional turbulence. when the end of the class approached, you felt a mixture of relief and anticipation. the prospect of the evening’s gathering offered a potential escape from the weight of your thoughts, a chance to immerse yourself in the company of friends and let the worries of the past few days drift away.

jihyo and minho packed up their things, and you followed suit, feeling a sense of camaraderie as you prepared to leave the studio. minyoung chatted animatedly about the evening’s plans, her enthusiasm infectious despite the lingering doubts in your mind. as you walked out of the studio and headed toward the campus exit, jihyo fell into step beside you. her presence was comforting, a reminder of the support you had. “remember,” she said softly, “tonight’s about relaxing and having a good time. don’t let your worries overshadow it.”

you nodded, taking a deep breath as you stepped into the vibrant energy of the campus. the evening ahead held the promise of distraction and connection, a chance to shift your focus and enjoy the company of friends. as you walked alongside jihyo and minho, you tried to embrace the hope that tonight might bring a welcome reprieve from the storm of emotions you had been navigating. the sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the campus as you made your way to her place. with each step, you hoped for a sense of relief and a chance to momentarily escape the complexities of your thoughts.

the evening's promise of relief and distraction dissolved like smoke as you stepped into jihyo’s house. the warmth and laughter that greeted you were abruptly overshadowed by the sight of jungkook among the group of people already there. the room was buzzing with energy, the clinking of bottles and the murmur of conversation filling the air.

jihyo’s cheerful greeting faltered as her gaze locked onto jungkook. she snapped her neck to minho, a look of surprise and irritation crossing her face. “i didn’t know you’d invited jungkook too,” she said, her voice carrying a sharp edge. minho raised his hands defensively, a sheepish grin on his face. “i had no idea there was tension. i thought it’d be a nice surprise.”

you stood there, frozen in the doorway, feeling a chill seep into the warmth of the room. jungkook’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, there was a silent acknowledgment of the situation. his smile faltered slightly when he noticed your lack of reciprocation, the tension between you palpable.

jihyo guided you into the room, her demeanor shifting to one of concern. whe led you to a circle on the floor where the others were already settling in. minho produced bottles of soju, his enthusiasm for the evening evident as he set them down and suggested starting a drinking game. the game began with a lively energy. the group’s laughter and teasing filled the space, but you found it difficult to engage. as the rounds progressed, the questions and challenges became increasingly daring. mina, one of the other girls, challenged jihyo to either take her top off or drink. just as she was about to comply, minho interjected, suggesting she down an entire bottle instead. the room erupted in laughter, a sound that felt distant and hollow to you.

jungkook’s gaze remained fixed on you, his eyes searching for a reaction. you met his gaze briefly, your own expression unyielding. the game continued around you, the atmosphere growing more frenetic and less comfortable.

jihyo’s eyes sparkled with a new idea as she turned to him, her voice carrying a playful tone. “jungkook, your turn. kiss the prettiest girl in the room or take a drink.” the challenge seemed to electrify the room. his eyes flickered to you once more, his expression a mix of resolve and anticipation. he reached for the bottle of soju, his fingers brushing its neck, before setting it down with a decisive motion. without hesitation, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

the room erupted in cheers, the sound washing over you in a wave of unwanted attention. jungkook pulled away, his smile radiant and expectant, but you remained unmoved. your eyes were cool, indifferent. the kiss, meant to be playful or provocative, felt hollow and forced. the jubilation of the room contrasted sharply with your own feelings. you took a swig from the soju bottle, the liquid burning as it went down. the alcohol did little to numb the sting of the evening’s events. with a heavy sigh, you excused yourself from the circle and walked toward the door.

as you stepped outside, the cool night air greeted you with a sharp, refreshing clarity. the sky above was dotted with stars, a serene contrast to the chaos you had just left behind. you fumbled with your cigarette box, fingers trembling slightly as you retrieved a cigarette. with a practiced motion, you lit it and inhaled deeply, the smoke curling around you in a calming haze. the solitude of the outdoor space provided a temporary refuge from the din inside. uou leaned against the wall, the cigarette between your fingers a small anchor in the storm of your thoughts. the kiss from jungkook had left you unsettled, and the evening’s veneer of camaraderie had revealed a deeper undercurrent of discomfort and disconnection.

as you stood there, lost in thought, the distant sounds of laughter and music from the party inside seemed faint and distant. the cool breeze carried away the heat of the moment, leaving you with a sense of clarity and resolve. you had come seeking relief, but instead had confronted a reality that was as complex and unpredictable as ever. the cigarette burned down slowly, the embers glowing softly in the night. you finished it with a deep, contemplative drag, savoring the quiet before re-entering the fray of the evening. with a final exhale, you flicked the spent cigarette away and prepared to face whatever the rest of the night might hold.

the night air had a crisp bite to it, a contrast to the clamor of the party inside. you were about to step back into the house, hoping to reclaim some semblance of normalcy, when a shadow fell across your path. you looked up, only to find jungkook standing there, his presence as sudden as it was unexpected.

he leaned down slightly, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. his smile was disarming, and his voice carried a playful tone as he spoke. “why’ve you been so cold to me?” he asked, his eyes glinting in the dim light.

you scoffed, the earlier tension bubbling back to the surface. “why don’t you ask your friend from this morning?” you shot back, unable to keep the edge from your voice.

his laughter was soft and warm, cutting through the chill of the night. “soel? oh, she’s just a friend. nothing more,” he said, dismissing your concern with a wave of his hand. his words caught you off guard, leaving you momentarily stunned and silent. the embarrassment of your earlier jealousy washed over you like a tide, coloring your cheeks with a faint blush. he seemed to sense your discomfort and offered a reassuring smile. “don’t worry about it,” he said, his voice gentle. “jealousy looks good on you, by the way.”

your heart skipped a beat at his comment, a flush of heat spreading across your face. the candidness of his words, combined with the intensity of his gaze, made it difficult to maintain your composure. flustered, you looked away, struggling to regain your equilibrium. before you could fully gather yourself, his presence at your side felt oddly comforting. he matched your pace as you turned back toward the house, trailing behind you with a casual, easy stride. the sound of the party inside grew louder as you approached the door, the energy of the gathering spilling out into the hallway.

the night’s revelry had left you intoxicated and unsteady on your feet. the laughter and music from downstairs seemed to blend into a distant hum as you made your way up to jihyo’s room. the stairwell wobbled slightly under your steps, each ascent feeling like an effort as you navigated the dizzying effects of the evening’s drinks. when you finally reached her room, you stumbled through the door and collapsed onto her bed. the room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting a gentle light across the space. the bed felt like a comforting refuge as you sank into its embrace, your head spinning pleasantly from the alcohol.

as you rested, the door creaked open, and you heard the shuffling of footsteps approaching. your hazy vision slowly made out jungkook’s figure as he stumbled into the room, equally inebriated but with a purposeful gait. he looked around, his eyes finally landing on you with a mix of concern and amusement.

“what are you doing here?” you managed to ask, your voice a bit slurred. the question hung in the air, mingling with the scent of alcohol and the faint scent of perfume. his smile was lopsided, his gaze soft as he settled down on the bed beside you. “i came to check on you,” he said, his voice carrying a soothing warmth that contrasted with the cool night air.

your heart fluttered at his words, a sensation that felt both thrilling and disorienting. as he sat next to you, his presence was comforting and reassuring, an anchor amidst the swirl of emotions you were feeling. he looked at you with a gentle smile, his eyes lingering on your flushed cheeks and disheveled appearance.

“you’re just as pretty drunk as you are sober,” he said, his tone affectionate and teasing. the compliment made you blush deeper, and you instinctively raised your hands to cover your face. “my makeup must be a mess,” you mumbled, feeling a mix of embarrassment and vulnerability. jungkook shook his head with a soft chuckle, his movements deliberate and careful. “makeup is just art, and you can't mess up art,” he said, his voice tender as he leaned in closer. his face was inches from yours, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours. his fingers gently traced the lines of your face, his touch light as he began to wipe away the smudges of makeup from under your eyes.

the intimacy of the moment seemed to stretch and contract, a space filled with a growing anticipation. jungkook’s gaze held yours, his eyes reflecting a depth of emotion that matched the softness of his touch. the distance between you closed, the world outside the room fading into insignificance.

when his lips finally met yours, the kiss was hot and heavy, a potent mix of desire and need. it was a kiss that spoke volumes, expressing the unspoken feelings and the intoxicated passion that had been simmering beneath the surface. his lips moved against yours with an intensity that made your heart race, the kiss deepening with every passing second.

as the kiss deepened, the rest of the world seemed to dissolve into a blur. the music from downstairs, the laughter, the people—it all became a distant echo compared to the closeness of his embrace. the kiss was a shared moment of escape, a brief interlude where nothing else mattered but the connection between you and him. “if we continue,” he murmured, his hot breath grazing your lips. “i won't be able to stop myself.”

his eyes searched yours for consent, and even though you were tipsy, you knew exactly what you were doing. with a nod, you let yourself indulge in it, the anticipation building with every step. the room was dimly lit, with the occasional flicker from the candle casting shadows on the walls. the smell of the candle, something sweet and exotic, filled the air, mixing with the faint scent of his cologne. jungkook closed the door behind you, and in that instant, the outside world was forgotten.

once on the bed, your bodies became a tangled mess of limbs and passion. his hands were everywhere, tracing the lines of your body with a hunger that was almost desperate. you felt his tattoo flutter against your neck as he kissed along your collarbone, sending a shiver down your spine. you pulled at his shirt, eager to feel his bare skin against yours. the fabric gave way, revealing his toned abs and the tattoo that was inked into the flesh at the base of his neck—a delicate monarch, its wings unfurling in an intricate dance.

his mouth found yours again, and the kiss grew more urgent. your hands fumbled with the buttons of his pants, and he groaned when you finally slipped your hand inside, wrapping your fingers around his hard length. he reciprocated, tugging at the hem of your dress, eager to explore what lay beneath. as the fabric was pushed aside, his eyes widened at the sight of your lacy underwear. “fuck,” he murmured, his eyes darkening with desire. “so fucking dirty.”

his words were a heady mix of praise and demand, sending a rush of heat to your core. your heart pounded in your chest as he pulled the dress over your head, leaving you in nothing but your bra and panties. the coolness of the room hit your skin, making your nipples pebble with excitement. his eyes roamed over you, and you felt exposed, but in the best way possible. his hands followed the path of his gaze, cupping your tits and gently rolling your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. a soft moan escaped your lips, and he took it as an invitation to lean in and suck one into his mouth. the sensation was electric, and you arched your back, pressing yourself closer to him.

his hands moved down to the waistband of your underwear, and with a quick motion, he slid them down your legs. you felt a moment of vulnerability, but it was quickly overshadowed by the desire coursing through your veins. jungkook kissed along your stomach, making his way down to the apex of your thighs. his tongue flicked out, teasing your clit, and you gripped the bed sheets tightly. “oh, god,” you breathed, your voice a desperate whisper.

his eyes never left yours as he positioned himself over you, his own pants discarded on the floor. he reached into the nightstand and pulled out a condom, ripping it open with his teeth before rolling it on. even in the dim light, you could see the intensity in his gaze, the raw need that mirrored your own. “are you sure?” he asked, his voice gruff with lust.

you nodded, and it was all he yearned for as he entered you. the feeling was overwhelming, a perfect mix of pleasure and pain that had you gasping. he paused, giving you a moment to adjust before he began to move. his thrusts were deep and slow at first, his eyes never leaving yours as he whispered filthy words in your ear, urging you to let go.

you did, moaning his name as you wrapped your legs around his waist. your hands dug into his back, and you could feel the tension in his muscles as he moved. your bodies fit together perfectly, like two puzzle pieces that had been searching for their match. the bed rocked gently under you, the rhythmic sound mixing with your ragged breaths and the slap of skin on skin.

you lost track of time as you both chased the high of climax. his dirty talk grew more intense, and your responses grew louder. it was a dance of dominance and submission, each of you pushing the other closer to the edge. when you finally reached it, your body convulsed around him, and you called out his name like a prayer. jungkook followed shortly after, his dick twitching as if it was his first time.

the morning light filtered through the curtains with a muted glow, casting a soft, hazy light across jihyo’s room. you stirred from sleep, the warmth of the bed a stark contrast to the chill of the previous night. as you slowly regained consciousness, your eyes fell upon the scene beside you. jungkook laid there, his presence so close that you could feel his breath against your skin. the shocking realization hit you as you took in the sight of him naked beside you.

panic surged through you as fragmented memories of the night before flickered in your mind. the kiss, the heat, the intensity—all of it came crashing back. the vividness of those moments left you feeling both disoriented and mortified. with trembling hands, you scrambled to gather your clothes, hastily dressing as you tried to make sense of the chaos.

in a frantic rush, you stumbled out of the room and down the stairs, your heart pounding in your chest. the house was still quiet, save for the soft murmurs of the early morning. wgen you reached the bottom, you were met with jihyo’s intense gaze. her expression was a mixture of concern and exasperation, a look that made you feel like you were about to face her wrath. “i could strangle you right now,” she said, her voice sharp and laced with an underlying tension. the threat in her words was softened only by the lack of her morning smoke, a ritual she hadn’t yet indulged in. you stood there, feeling a knot of fear tighten in your stomach. the scolding began, a tirade of reprimands that blended into a blur of guilt and embarrassment.

the weight of your actions pressed heavily upon you, and though you tried to focus on her words, your mind was elsewhere. the guilt of the night before, the uncertainty of what you had done, and the unanticipated consequences all swirled together in a disorienting mix. during class, her scolding continued, her frustration evident. you sat there, trying to stay composed as the minutes ticked by. the lecture on art and technique seemed distant, a backdrop to the internal turmoil you were experiencing. it was only when a familiar face appeared that you were jolted from your reverie.

the girl who had been with jungkook the previous morning walked in and took a seat with you and jihyo. she greeted you with a polite smile, and as she settled in, she mentioned needing help with her sculpture. you gave her your notes, watching her as she began to work with the clay, your mind still reeling from the events of the night. as she sculpted, your gaze inadvertently fell to her wrist. there, clearly visible, was a drawing of a monarch butterfly.

the sight of it sent a jolt through you, your stomach twisting in a sickening churn. the connection hit you like a physical blow, and the room seemed to spin around you. you were frozen, unable to tear your eyes away from the drawing that mirrored the one jungkook had drawn on you. unable to stay any longer, you excused yourself, the rush of emotions and physical discomfort becoming too overwhelming to ignore. you hurried to the bathroom, the need to escape the situation pressing heavily on you. once inside, you leaned over the sink and, overwhelmed by a combination of betrayal, hangover, and emotional turmoil, you began to vomit. each heave felt like it was ripping something deeper inside of you, the physical pain amplifying the emotional distress.

as you clung to the sink, the cool porcelain against your forehead offering a small comfort, you were consumed by a storm of conflicting feelings. the events of the night had left their mark, and now, the stark reality of the situation was unfolding with cruel clarity. as you stepped out of the bathroom, the heaviness in your chest felt almost tangible. the earlier discomfort was still fresh, and you were hoping for a moment of peace. instead, the moment you emerged, you heard a voice calling for you. you turned, only to see jungkook walking towards you with a grin that seemed far too bright given the situation.

“running out without a goodbye kiss? that’s pure evil,” he said, his tone light and teasing. but as you met his gaze, you saw no trace of irony or humor—just a genuine, unfaltering smile that made your stomach churn once again.

you forced yourself to look him in the eyes, trying to steady your emotions. “i just talked to soel,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “she has a butterfly tattoo on her wrist. the same one you drew on me.”

jungkook’s smile didn’t falter. Instead, he seemed unfazed by your revelation. “oh, that? i draw that on all my friends,” he said nonchalantly. “why does it bug you?”

the casualness of his response left you reeling. you stared at him, feeling a cold wave of betrayal wash over you. “is that what i am to you? just a friend?” his reaction was almost mechanical. “yeah,” he said, shrugging slightly. “is that an issue for you?”

the simple, matter-of-fact way he spoke was like a punch to the gut. you were stunned, the weight of his words crashing down on you like a tidal wave. the realization that you had misinterpreted his intentions, that your emotions had been tangled in a misunderstanding, left you feeling hollow. without another word, you turned away, your heart racing and your mind clouded with a storm of betrayal and shock. you walked briskly, your steps echoing with a sense of finality as you left jungkook behind. the turmoil inside you was a jumbled mess, each step away from him only amplifying the confusion and hurt.

the campus was bustling with the usual midday energy as you joined jihyo, minho, and minyoung for lunch. you sat down at the table with them, the usual chatter and laughter around you feeling like a distant echo. as they talked animatedly about their day, you remained silent, the weight of the morning’s events heavy on your shoulders.

minho finally broke through the silence, noticing the way you said nothing. “what’s wrong?” he asked, his tone gentle but concerned. the question was like a dam breaking. you tried to hold back the tears, but the effort proved futile. they spilled over, each drop a mix of frustration, sadness, and disappointment. the raw emotion that had been building up inside you was finally released, and you found yourself unable to stop the flood.

through your tears, you recounted the events of the night before—the drunken mistake, the disheartening conversation with jungkook, and the sting of betrayal. your voice trembled with each word, the hurt and confusion palpable as you shared your story.

as you spoke, you could see the shock and horror on their faces. minho’s eyes widened with disbelief, and minyoung’s expression turned to one of sympathy. but it was jihyo’s reaction that truly struck you. her face darkened with anger, and her eyes blazed with a fierce resolve. “might actually fucking kill him,” she said with a steely determination, her words delivered in a low, dangerous tone. the promise was almost soothing in its intensity, a sign of her fierce loyalty and anger on your behalf.

you shook your head, feeling a fresh wave of guilt wash over you. “no, don’t,” you managed to say between sobs. “it’s my fault. i was too trusting. i should have seen it coming.”

her expression softened as she reached out to you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “don’t blame yourself,” she said firmly. “you didn’t do anything wrong. he’s the one who failed you. focus on yourself and your work. you deserve better than this.” but despite her reassurances, you found it difficult to shift your focus. jungkook’s smile, the way he had looked at you, the crushing realization of his indifference—all of it was still vividly etched in your mind. the pain of the betrayal felt like a persistent ache, a constant reminder of your misplaced trust and the emotional turmoil it had caused.

as lunch continued, you struggled to engage in the conversation. your mind kept drifting back to him, replaying the moments and words that had shattered your sense of stability. the comfort of jihyo’s words was overshadowed by the persistent sting of your own emotions. the rest of the afternoon passed in a blur, the echoes of your thoughts louder than any external noise. the distraction of the campus environment did little to ease your turmoil, and the weight of your feelings continued to anchor you in a state of unresolved pain.

in the solitude of the studio, the air was heavy with the smell of clay and the faint traces of your exhaustion. the sculpture in front of you was nearly complete, a painstakingly crafted representation of a woman’s head—her expression a haunting blend of serenity and despair. the piece symbolized a submission to love that consumed and overwhelmed. her eyes were hollowed out, the sockets deep and dark, conveying an intense and tragic devotion. the gouged-out eyes were not merely a detail; they were the very essence of her surrender, the ultimate sacrifice for the one she loved.

your hands trembled slightly as you made the final adjustments, the weight of your own emotions interwoven with the piece. you took a step back to admire your work, your heart heavy with the sense of completion mingled with the burden of what it represented. the sculpture was a mirror to your own turbulent feelings, capturing the essence of devotion and its potential for destruction.

the quiet of the studio was suddenly disrupted by a voice behind you. “where are her eyes?” jungkook asked, his tone inquisitive yet casual. you stiffened, momentarily frozen by the intrusion. your gaze remained fixed on the sculpture, trying to compose yourself. “she gouged her eyes out,” you said softly, your voice carrying the weight of the sculpture’s meaning. “simply because her lover wanted her to. she would do anything for him.”

jungkook’s footsteps approached, and you felt him come closer, his presence a palpable force in the room. he stood behind you, his gaze fixed on the sculpture as he admired your work. “it’s a beautiful piece,” he said, his voice sincere but carrying an undercurrent of something else.

you kept your back to him, your attention focused on the sculpture, trying to ignore the effect his presence had on you. but then, you felt him press closer, his body nearly touching your back. he leaned in, his breath warm and tickling your ear as he gently pushed aside your hair. “are you mad at me?” he asked, his voice a low whisper. you struggled to maintain your composure, the tension between you palpable. “i have no reason to be,” you replied, though your voice betrayed a hint of uncertainty.

you felt him smirk against your skin, the touch of his lips sending shivers down your spine. his kisses, light and teasing, trailed down your neck, each touch intensifying your internal conflict. “we shouldn’t be doing this,” you murmured, your voice wavering. his breath was hot against your ear as he replied, “that’s what makes it so fun.”

your resistance wavered as he continued to kiss your neck, the pleasure mingling with your sense of guilt and confusion. You knew it was wrong, yet the allure of the moment was powerful. finally, you turned around to face him, the decision made despite your inner turmoil. you allowed him to kiss you, the contact both electrifying and disorienting.

the kiss was intense, a clash of emotions and desires that left you breathless. jungkook’s touch was both familiar and foreign, a reminder of the complications that had arisen between you. as you surrendered to the kiss, the studio’s quiet solitude seemed to collapse around you, leaving only the swirling mixture of passion and regret. in the midst of the embrace, the sculpture remained a silent witness, its hollow eyes a stark reminder of the emotional sacrifice and the consuming nature of love. the art piece and the reality of your feelings intertwined, creating a poignant reflection of the complicated interplay between desire and devotion.

his hands found their way to your waist, his grip firm as he pulled you closer to him. you felt his arousal pressing against you, and despite your inner reservations, your body responded instinctively. the attraction was undeniable, a magnetic force that seemed to have a will of its own. his kiss grew deeper, more demanding, as his hands began to explore your body. your own hands roamed over his chest, feeling the muscles tighten beneath your touch. the fabric of your clothes felt like a barrier to the connection you both craved, and without a word, jungkook began to remove them. the anticipation grew as each layer fell away, revealing your skin to the cool studio air.

you found yourself bent over the sculpting table, jungkook’s hands tracing your spine, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. he whispered dirty words into your ear, his voice thick with desire, and you felt your knees wobble. the reality of the situation washed over you—the illicitness of it, the raw need you felt for each other—and you realized that this was what you had been craving, despite the guilt.

his fingers dipped lower, finding the wetness between your legs, and you gasped into his mouth. jungkook’s touch grew more insistent, and the sculpture beneath your palms seemed to pulse with the rhythm of your heart. you were no longer the artist—you were the art, being shaped and molded by his desires.

his hand slid away, and you heard the sound of his belt buckle. your heart raced as he positioned himself behind you, the tip of his erection teasing your entrance. “are you sure?” you managed to ask, the tremor in your voice betraying your nerves. “do you want me?” he replied, his voice a challenge. your body answered for you, arching back, begging for him to fill you. and with one powerful thrust, he did.

the sensation was overwhelming—his bare skin against yours, the heat of his body surrounding you. his grip tightened on your hips as he began to move, the rhythm punctuated by your moans and the slap of skin against skin. the intensity grew with each stroke, the pleasure a wildfire that consumed every rational thought. you could feel his breath on your neck, his voice a gruff whisper of praise and desire. your eyes closed, and the sculpture, the studio, the world outside—it all faded away, leaving only the two of you and the primal dance of your bodies.

his thrusts grew harder, deeper, as he claimed you from behind. the sculpture was forgotten, a symbol of a love that was now a tangible reality in the form of this explosive union. you reached back, your hand finding the base of his cock, and you felt his body tense with pleasure. the air was thick with passion, the scent of sex and clay a heady mix that intoxicated you both. jungkook’s movements grew erratic, and you knew he was close. with one final, powerful push, he reached his climax, his warmth filling you as he groaned your name.

you collapsed onto the table, spent and trembling, as jungkook leaned over you, his breath ragged. for a moment, there was only silence, the two of you trying to find your bearings in the aftermath of the storm.

but the quiet was broken by the sudden sound of the studio door opening, and you both froze. your eyes widened with panic, and jungkook’s grip on you tightened. “we can’t get caught,” you whispered, your heart racing with fear and excitement. he smirked, his eyes dark with mischief. “we won’t,” he assured you, his voice low and seductive. “not until we’re finished, anyway.” the tension grew as the footsteps grew louder, and jungkook began to move again, slower this time, his strokes long and deliberate. the game of hiding in plain sight was thrilling, a dangerous edge to the passion that had overtaken you both.

the newcomer to the studio called out a greeting, and his hand covered your mouth, muffling any sound you might make. you bit down on your lip, stifling a moan, as he continued to fuck you with an urgent need that seemed to defy the danger of being discovered. your heart hammered in your chest, the thrill of the forbidden mixing with the fear of being caught.

his movements grew more deliberate, his hips grinding into yours with a silent rhythm that matched the beat of your racing pulse. you could feel the eyes of the sculpture on you, the hollow sockets seeming to judge you even as you writhed in pleasure beneath his touch. the footsteps grew closer, and his grip tightened. he leaned in, his teeth grazing your ear as he whispered, “be quiet, baby. come for me.” the words sent a jolt of electricity through your body, and you did as he asked, your orgasm building like a crescendo.

just as the person entered the room, you reached the peak, your body convulsing around jungkook’s cock. he groaned softly, the sound vibrating against your neck, and you clamped down on his hand to keep from crying out. the wave of pleasure washed over you, leaving you trembling and exposed. his strokes grew shallower, his cock still hard and pulsing inside you. the footsteps stopped just outside the partition that separated the main studio from your makeshift private corner. the tension was unbearable, a tight coil of excitement and fear that made every nerve ending in your body feel alive.

his eyes locked with yours, and you saw the challenge in them. you knew he was enjoying this as much as he enjoyed the sex itself—the risk, the danger, the thrill of the secret. your breathing was ragged, your body still quaking from the orgasm that had torn through you, and yet you remained silent, waiting. the person in the room spoke, their voice muffled by the wall of clay that separated you. jungkook’s thrusts grew more gentle now, almost tender, as he slowly pulled out of you. you felt the warmth of his seed inside you, a stark reminder of what had just happened.

you both waited, your breaths syncing as the footsteps grew fainter, moving away from your hiding spot. once the room was empty again, jungkook leaned down to kiss you, his lips brushing yours with a softness that seemed at odds with the ferocity of your encounter. “see?” he murmured, his voice a low purr. “no one will ever know our little secret.”

you pushed him away gently, sitting up and adjusting your clothes. your mind was racing, a whirlwind of emotions—shame, exhilaration, fear of being found out. but there was also something else, a dark satisfaction that seemed to hum in the air.

the sculpture loomed before you, the woman’s expression now a reflection of your own complex feelings. jungkook pulled on his shirt, his eyes never leaving yours. “we can’t do this again,” you said, the finality in your voice unmistakable. but as he zipped up his pants, the smug smile on his face told you that he didn’t believe you. and deep down, neither did you. the line had been crossed, and the taste of the forbidden was too sweet to ignore.

his eyes held a promise of more to come, and despite yourself, you felt your body respond. the next chapter of this illicit story was already being written, the plot thickening with every shared glance and stolen touch. and you knew that no matter how much you tried to resist, you would be drawn back into the tumultuous dance of desire and deceit that was your relationship with him.

as jungkook stepped out of the studio, his silhouette fading into the dim light of the hallway, you were left alone with the echo of his departure. you hastily pulled your clothes back on, your hands trembling uncontrollably. each movement was a struggle against the storm of emotions raging inside you.

the studio, once a sanctuary of creation, now felt like a cage closing in around you. the quiet was oppressive, amplifying the shattering of your composure. you fought to hold back the tears, but the effort proved futile. they began to fall, each drop a release of the turmoil you had been trying to suppress. you sank to the floor, your body trembling with the force of your sobs. the statue stood before you, its eyeless gaze a haunting reflection of your own despair. the sculpture, a representation of sacrifice and devotion, seemed to mock you now. its hollow eyes, gouged out as a symbol of surrender, mirrored the emptiness and heartbreak you felt inside.

unable to bear the sight, you were overcome by a furious, anguished energy. the intensity of your emotions erupted uncontrollably. you launched yourself at the statue, your hands and feet flailing as you knocked it over. the crash of clay against the floor was loud, a jarring sound that matched the violence of your grief. you kicked at the broken pieces, the fragments scattering across the studio floor. the destruction was cathartic yet devastating, a physical manifestation of the chaos within you. as the statue lay shattered, the pieces symbolized the fragmented state of your heart. each kick was a release, each broken shard a representation of your pain.

exhausted and overwhelmed, you slid down against the wall, the tears still flowing freely. the destruction of the sculpture had not lessened the weight of your sorrow. instead, it left you staring at the remnants, the once-beautiful work now reduced to a broken mess. you continued to cry, your body wracked with sobs as you gazed at the ruined statue. the eyeless gaze of the sculpture, now in fragments, seemed to reach out to you in a final, tragic understanding. the intense emotion of the piece was mirrored in your own shattered state. the studio, with its scattered pieces and your anguished cries, was a poignant testament to the overwhelming pain and anger you felt.

the contrast between the beauty of the sculpture and the violence of its destruction spoke to the raw intensity of your emotions. the studio, once a space of artistic expression, had become a stage for your most profound heartache. as you wept, the remnants of the statue lay around you, a somber reminder of the intricate connection between art, love, and the devastating effects of betrayal. in the end, as your sobs quieted and you sat amidst the broken pieces, the sight of the ruined sculpture served as a haunting reflection of your own emotional wreckage. the tears continued to fall, mingling with the clay fragments, a final, tragic testament to the depth of your despair.

as you gathered your belongings, the weight of the night’s events clung heavily to your shoulders. the studio, once a place of solace and creativity, now felt like a space of ruin and disillusionment. your hands moved mechanically, shoving your scattered materials into your bag. each motion was devoid of purpose, driven by a numbing emptiness rather than intent.

the soft sounds of your packing were abruptly interrupted by distant noises—low grunts and muffled groans—emanating from the studio down the hall. the sounds were raw and unsettling, a contrast to the quiet destruction you had left behind. your curiosity and dread compelled you to investigate, despite the turmoil within you.

you approached the door to the neighboring studio, its glass panel offering a distorted view into the dimly lit room. peering through, your heart sank as you recognized the scene unfolding inside. jungkook was there, engaged with a girl you couldn’t identify. the sight of them, entwined in an intimate and brutal display, was a dagger to your already fragile heart.

the cold reality of the moment was a sharp contrast to the warmth you had briefly experienced with him. you were paralyzed, unable to tear your gaze away from the scene before you. each grunt and moan was a reminder of your own vulnerability and the painful contrast between the connection you had felt and the stark betrayal unfolding before you. the sight of him with another, the passion and disregard apparent in their movements, left you feeling hollow. you had no tears left to shed; the emotional reservoir had been drained dry by the night's turmoil. the image of their bodies, entwined and fervent, was seared into your mind—a brutal symbol of your own sense of abandonment and betrayal.

turning away from the glass, you felt an eerie emptiness consume you. the world seemed to blur as you walked down the hallway, your steps heavy and unsteady. your mind was a void, a blank slate where thoughts and emotions once swirled with intensity. the encounter had left you drained, each step echoing with the weight of your disillusionment.

the cold air of the hallway seemed to press against you, a stark reminder of the isolation you felt. as you made your way home, the world around you was a distant haze. the vibrant life of the campus and the remnants of your art—the shattered statue, the chaotic emotions—faded into the background, leaving only the crushing emptiness of your thoughts. each step felt like a journey through fog, the clarity of the night’s events slipping away with each movement. the betrayal, the emotional wreckage, and the raw intensity of the moments you had witnessed had left you numb. you walked forward, but within, you remained frozen—trapped in the silence of your own heartache.

the sun rose reluctantly on the campus the next day, its light casting a dull glow through the classroom windows. you stumbled into your class, exhausted and hollow-eyed from a night spent in sleepless turmoil. the world outside felt distant, its vibrancy lost to you as you trudged through the motions of daily life. your movements were mechanical as you took your place among the scattered students. the studio, once a sanctuary of creativity, now felt foreign and unwelcoming. the empty canvas in front of you was a glaring testament to your lack of inspiration. the urge to sculpt, to create, was absent, replaced by a void of emotional fatigue and despair.

jihyo tried her best to offer comfort. her words were gentle, her presence a constant reassurance in the face of your turmoil. despite her efforts, the pain within you remained insurmountable. her attempts to console you seemed to fall short of reaching the deep chasm of your heartache. the betrayal and the haunting images from the previous night left you adrift, unable to focus or find solace.

the professor’s voice broke through the haze of your thoughts, announcing a new student would be joining the class. you barely registered his words, your mind elsewhere, wandering through the fog of your sleepless night. it wasn’t until you heard the shuffle of footsteps and the murmur of surprise among your peers that you looked up.

your heart skipped a beat as you locked eyes with the new student. it was jackson. the same jackson who had once been a part of your world, now standing before you with a familiar, if unwelcome, presence. the shock of seeing him in this context, amid your already tumultuous emotions, was almost too much to bear. he met your gaze with an expression that was a mixture of apprehension and resolve. the smile he once wore with ease now seemed strained, an acknowledgment of the shared past that had ended in such distressing terms. the air in the room felt charged, the atmosphere thick with an unspoken tension. his arrival was a jarring reminder of old wounds, reopened with his unexpected reappearance.

you forced yourself to focus, trying to ignore the way your heart raced and the way your mind spun with fragmented memories of him. the professor introduced jackson, guiding him to a seat, and the room’s atmosphere shifted. the familiar face was a painful reminder of a time when things had been different, when trust and affection had colored your world.

jihyo, noticing the way your gaze lingered on him, placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. you offered her a weak smile, her concern evident in her eyes. yet, despite her support, the emotional storm inside you remained uncalm. you felt as though you were caught in the eye of a hurricane, where the calm was an illusion masking the chaos within.

as jackson settled into his new spot, you couldn't help but feel a pang of anxiety. the familiarity of his presence, combined with the unresolved issues from your past, created a sense of disquiet. you tried to refocus on your work, but the blank canvas before you was a stark reminder of the numbness that had consumed your creativity. the rest of the class droned on, his presence a silent but heavy weight in the room. every glance in his direction felt like a step back into a storm you had barely escaped. your hands remained idle, the sculpting tools untouched as you struggled to regain some semblance of normalcy.

the day dragged on, each minute a reminder of the fractured pieces of your recent past. as the bell finally rang, signaling the end of the class, you gathered your things with a sense of resignation. the encounter with him had been a jarring disruption, but it was also a harsh reminder that the echoes of past relationships often resurface when least expected. you walked out of the classroom, your mind still clouded with the weight of your emotions. the campus, with its usual bustle of activity, felt distant and surreal. the familiar paths and faces seemed altered, as though you were navigating through a dream that had turned unsettlingly real.

the day seemed to drag endlessly as you walked out of the classroom, feeling the heavy weight of jackson’s unexpected reappearance. the campus, once a place of refuge and creativity, now felt like a labyrinth of memories and unresolved emotions. you walked with a purpose, desperate to escape the lingering sense of disquiet that his presence had stirred within you.

as you moved through the crowded hallways, lost in your thoughts, a voice called out to you, breaking through the fog of your mind. you turned slowly, your heart skipping a beat as you saw hin standing a few steps away. his expression was earnest, eyes filled with a mix of regret and hope. for a moment, you felt paralyzed, caught between the urge to flee and the reluctant desire to hear him out.

jackson took a hesitant step towards you, his hand reaching out to gently grasp your wrist. the touch was light, almost pleading, and you could feel the warmth of his skin through your thin sleeve. his eyes were filled with an apologetic softness that seemed to convey a depth of remorse you hadn’t anticipated. “what are you doing here?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. you struggled to keep your emotions in check, the memory of the sculpture and the pain it had caused still fresh in your mind.

his gaze dropped to the floor for a moment before he looked up again, his eyes meeting yours with a sincere gravity. “i wanted to focus solely on my work,” he said, his voice laced with an honesty that was both surprising and unsettling. “it’s been difficult since you left. i lost my muse.”

the words struck you with a sharp edge, stirring a storm of conflicting emotions within you. the image of the sculpture, the public humiliation, and the way he had dismissed your feelings—all of it came rushing back. you remembered the pain and betrayal that had clouded your heart.

“you don’t get to just come back and pretend like everything’s fine,” you said, your voice trembling. “you can’t erase what you did.”

his face fell, and he took a deep breath before speaking. “i know,” he said quietly. “and I’m sorry. i had the sculpture removed. i understand that nothing will ever be the same. i just wanted to let you know that, if nothing else, i’d like to be your friend.”

his words were both unexpected and profound, offering a semblance of closure that you hadn’t anticipated. the notion of friendship, after everything that had transpired, felt both distant and comforting. you stood there, absorbing the gravity of his apology and the genuine regret that seemed to hang in the air between you. for a moment, the chaos inside you quieted, replaced by a fragile sense of peace. his offer of friendship was an olive branch, a gesture that acknowledged the hurt while striving for something different. yet, the wound was still fresh, and the idea of moving past it was daunting.

“i need time,” you said finally, your voice steady but tinged with a quiet resolve. “i can’t just pick up where we left off.” he nodded, his expression a blend of understanding and sadness. “i know,” he replied softly. “take all the time you need. i just wanted you to know i’m here if you ever want to talk.” with a final, lingering look, he turned and began to walk away. each step seemed to echo with the weight of the past and the uncertain promise of the future. you watched him go, your mind awash with a storm of emotions—anger, relief, and a bittersweet sense of closure. as you stood there alone in the corridor, the bustling noise of the campus seemed distant, as if you were enveloped in a cocoon of introspection. the conversation with jackson had stirred up old wounds, but had also offered a glimmer of resolution.

lunch on campus was always a comforting routine. the sun was high, casting dappled shadows through the leafy canopy above. you, jihyo, and minho had claimed your usual spot at a worn wooden table, the comforting hum of student chatter surrounding you. jihyo animatedly recounted her latest project, while minho nodded, occasionally chiming in with his dry wit. you were halfway through a bite of your sandwich when you saw him—jackson. he passed by with his characteristic easy grace, a slight smile playing on his lips as his eyes met yours. respectfully, he sat on a separate bench a few feet away, not wanting to intrude.

jihyo's eyes narrowed, her conversation with minho faltering as she followed your gaze. “why is he here?” she muttered, her voice barely audible but dripping with disdain. you stood up, your decision made in an instant. as you approached him, his smile faded slightly, replaced with a look of concern.

“is everything okay?” he asked, his voice soft, yet tinged with uncertainty. “come sit with us,” you replied, your tone gentle yet firm.

“are you sure?” his hesitation was palpable.

you nodded, offering him a reassuring smile. with a grateful nod, he followed you back to the table. minho raised an eyebrow in mild surprise, but it was jihyo's reaction that was most striking. her eyes widened, and she sat back, crossing her arms tightly across her chest.

“jackson, this is minho,” you introduced, and he gave a polite nod. “and this is jihyo.” jackson extended his hand to her, but she simply stared him down, her gaze icy. “she may have forgotten what you did, but i sure haven’t,” she said, her voice like steel.

he withdrew his hand slowly, nodding in acknowledgment. “i understand,” he replied softly. you placed a comforting hand on jihyo’s arm. “he came for a fresh start,” you explained, your voice calm and steady. “he even got the sculpture taken down.” jihyo’s skeptical glance lingered on him, but she didn’t press further. the tension in the air was almost tangible, but his presence gradually began to feel less intrusive.

he smiled at you, a look of genuine gratitude and perhaps a hint of hope in his eyes. you smiled back, feeling a sense of warmth and relief. the past might not be easily forgotten, but in that moment, it felt like a step towards something better, something new. as the conversation slowly resumed, you couldn’t help but feel that this lunch, under the sunlit canopy, marked the beginning of a significant change—a moment of reconciliation and new beginnings.

unbeknownst to you, a familiar figure stood in the background, having noticed your whole ordeal. jungkook, leaning casually against a nearby tree, had been chatting with his friends, their laughter mingling with the warm air. but his attention had been subtly drawn to you the moment jackson appeared. his dark eyes followed every movement, every gesture you made. the way you approached jackson with a calm demeanor, the soft reassurance in your voice, and the unyielding kindness in your eyes—it all piqued his curiosity. his friends were engrossed in a lively debate about the upcoming exhibition, but he found himself only half-listening, his mind occupied with the scene unfolding at your table.

he watched as you led jackson back, noticed the tension between him and jihyo, and observed the way you mediated with such grace. jungkook brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, trying to focus back on his friends' conversation. yet, the feeling tugging at his heartstrings was undeniable, a peculiar mix of curiosity and something he couldn’t quite identify.

the laughter of his friends brought him back to the present moment, and he forced a smile, joining in their conversation. but his eyes betrayed him, darting back to you occasionally. he noted the genuine smile you exchanged with jackson, a smile that seemed to light up your entire being. he couldn’t put his finger on it. was it admiration? perhaps a touch of jealousy? he shook his head, trying to dismiss the thoughts. after all, he had no reason to feel this way. you were just another girl, albeit a talented one, whose work he respected. yet, there was something in the way you handled the situation that stirred something deep within him.

back in the studio, the familiar scent of clay and the quiet hum of creativity enveloped you. the light filtering through the tall windows cast an ethereal glow on your workspace, illuminating the clay sculpture taking shape beneath your deft fingers. you shuddered, recalling the tumultuous scene you had caused, the emotional outburst that had led you to destroy your previous work of art.

determined to push back any thoughts of jungkook, you focused entirely on the clay before you. each movement was elegant, deliberate, as your hands moved with a grace born from years of practice. your mind, however, raced with a whirlwind of emotions—freedom, butterflies, liberty, independence. the sculpture was coming to life beneath your touch: an extended hand, its fingers gently curved, and a string of butterflies, delicate and intricate, laid one on top of the other. they seemed to be chasing the freedom they so desperately desired. yet, as you worked, their wings began to wither, the fragile clay starting to crumble under your touch. they had flown for so long, yearning for independence, before finally finding solace in the palm of a hand. it was a poignant realization—that the only thing they needed more than freedom was the touch of love.

you were so absorbed in your work that you barely noticed when jackson entered the studio. he said nothing, simply standing and watching you. his presence was quiet, respectful, and he observed as you caressed the butterflies, shaping each one with meticulous care. “it’s a beautiful piece,” he finally said, his voice soft, breaking the silence.

startled, you looked up, your eyes meeting his. you hadn’t realized he was there, so engrossed in your work. “jackson,” you breathed, your hands stilling. “i didn’t see you come in.”

he offered a gentle smile, stepping closer to the sculpture. “i didn’t want to disturb you. you looked so focused.” you glanced back at the sculpture, the extended hand and the fragile butterflies. “they’re chasing freedom,” you explained, your voice thoughtful. “but their wings are falling apart. they’ve been flying for so long, seeking independence, but they realize that what they need more than freedom is love.”

jackson studied the piece for a moment, nodding slowly. “you have a way of seeing the world, of expressing it through your art. i was wrong. you know art better than anyone.” his words were sincere, and they touched you deeply. you smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. as he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from your face, a tender gesture, it struck you—you knew art, its nuances, its depth. nevertheless, you didn't know love. that was a realm you had yet to truly understand.

the studio felt different now, not just a place of creation, but a space where emotions, complex and raw, intertwined with every sculpted form. and in that moment, with jackson's reassuring presence and the delicate clay butterflies, you realized there was more to learn, more to feel, beyond the confines of your art.

his eyes, warm and curious, met yours. “what has you so fascinated with butterflies?” he asked, his voice soft yet probing. you paused, your mind inevitably drifting back to jungkook. the memory of the monarch tattoo on the back of his neck was vivid, a symbol of his own desperate need to chase freedom. the thought made your blood run cold, a shiver running down your spine. you forced a smile, trying to push the unsettling thoughts away. “i admire them,” you said, your voice steady but distant. “they chase their own freedom, rather than love.”

his gaze softened, understanding flickering in his eyes. “everyone deserves love more than anything,” he replied gently. you said nothing, the words lingering in the air between you. the silence was filled with unspoken emotions, a depth of feeling that you couldn’t quite articulate. “especially you,” he added, his voice barely above a whisper.

the moment felt fragile, delicate like the butterflies you sculpted. before you could respond, the door to the studio swung open, and jihyo walked in, her presence breaking the intimate silence.

“hey, you two,” she called out, her tone light and cheerful. “the group's going out for drinks. you’re both welcome to join.” you hesitated, the weight of the day’s emotions still heavy on your shoulders. the idea of socializing felt overwhelming, but before you could decline, jackson spoke up.

“you deserve a break,” he said, his eyes meeting yours with a reassuring smile. “come on, it’ll be fun.” with a sigh, you nodded, feeling a mix of reluctance and gratitude. his encouragement gave you the push you needed. the prospect of stepping out of the studio, even for a short while, seemed like a small reprieve.

as you gathered your things, the studio’s comforting hum faded into the background. you cast one last look at your sculpture, the extended hand and the fragile butterflies, and felt a renewed sense of purpose. perhaps, amidst the chaos and the quest for freedom, there was room for love too. walking out with jackson and jihyo, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was shifting, a subtle change in the air. the evening stretched ahead of you, filled with possibilities, and for the first time in a while, you felt a glimmer of hope.

the walk to the bar was filled with a mixture of anticipation and unease. the streets were bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, casting long shadows that danced with each step you took. jihyo walked ahead, her laughter echoing down the empty street, while jackson stayed close by your side. as you approached the entrance of the bar, a sudden chill washed over you, sending a shiver down your spine. you couldn't quite place the feeling, but it was a foreboding sense that something was about to happen. the moment you walked in, the dim lighting and the low hum of chatter enveloped you. But it was the pair of dark eyes that you locked with immediately that sent a jolt through your entire being.

it was him, it always seemed to be him. he was sitting at a table with a few friends, his posture relaxed but his gaze intense. your body tensed involuntarily, and jackson, ever perceptive, noticed immediately. he placed a comforting arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “ease up,” he whispered in your ear, his voice calm and reassuring. “i’ve got your back.”

you finally broke the gaze, nodding at jackson, and made your way to a table as far from jungkook as possible. jackson's arm remained draped around you, a steadying presence in the storm of emotions brewing inside you. the two of you indulged in drinks, jackson leaning in close to whisper in your ear. “just so you know,” he said with a playful grin, “i’m a lightweight.” you laughed, the tension easing slightly. “i know,” you whispered back, your smile widening.

despite your attempts to ignore him, you could feel jungkook’s eyes on you the entire time. he downed his drink, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he watched you with jackson. you could almost feel the intensity of his thoughts, wondering who jackson was and why you were with him. minho’s voice broke through the haze of tension. “how about a round of darts?” he suggested, his tone light and carefree.

your mind immediately flashed back to playing darts with jungkook, the way he had stood behind you, guiding your hand, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered instructions. the memory was sharp and painful, and you shook your head. “no, thank you,” you replied politely, trying to keep your voice steady. jackson noticed the flicker of emotion in your eyes. “i’ll play for you,” he offered, a confident smile on his lips.

you nodded, grateful for his support. jackson stood up, heading over to the dartboard, and jungkook’s eyes narrowed. his fuse had blown, the thin veneer of calm shattering. “i’ll play against you,” he announced, his voice low and challenging.

the room went quiet, the tension palpable. your face went pale, and you glanced at jackson, who scoffed, clearly unfazed by his challenge. “fine,” he said coolly. “let’s play.”

the game began, and the atmosphere was thick with tension. each throw of the dart was accompanied by backhanded remarks, the words sharp and biting. “nice throw,” jungkook commented, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “didn’t know you had it in you.” jackson smirked, his eyes never leaving the dartboard. “you’d be surprised what i can do,” he replied smoothly. “unlike some people, i don’t need to show off.”

jungkook’s eyes flashed with anger. “careful,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “you might bite off more than you can chew.” jackson shrugged, his expression unfazed. “i think i’ll manage,” he said, his voice steady. the game continued, each round more intense than the last. finally, with a final, precise throw, jackson won. he turned to you, a triumphant smile on his face, and you couldn’t help but hug him congratulatory. his embrace was warm and reassuring, a stark contrast to the cold glare jungkook sent your way.

his gaze never left the two of you, his eyes dark and stormy. the tension in the air was almost suffocating, but in jackson’s arms, you felt a sense of safety and support. the night was far from over, but for now, you allowed yourself to bask in the moment, grateful for the small victories amidst the chaos.

the tension inside the bar had become suffocating, a palpable force that seemed to press down on you. excusing yourself, you made your way to the door, needing a moment of solitude to clear your mind. as you stood up, jackson placed a gentle kiss on your cheek, his lips warm and reassuring. “hurry back,” he said softly, his eyes full of warmth. but you didn’t miss the way jungkook’s gaze hardened, his jaw clenching as he watched the small exchange.

you stepped outside, the cool night air a welcome relief. reaching into your pocket, you pulled out a cigarette, the flick of the lighter breaking the stillness. as you took the first drag, the smoke curled around you, its familiar scent grounding you in the moment. your peace was short-lived, however. a voice broke through the quiet, low and unmistakable.

“is that your boyfriend?” you didn’t turn around. instead, you scoffed, exhaling a plume of smoke. “he’s my ex-boyfriend.”

jungkook’s tone was unreadable as he remarked, “you two seem close.” you took another drag, the cigarette glowing softly in the darkness. “we have history,” you replied. “we might even make up at some point.”

he laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “don’t even think about it,” he said, his voice hardening. finally, you turned to face him, anger flaring in your chest. “what does it have to do with you?”

he took a step closer, his eyes locked onto yours. “the sight of you with another man makes me unreasonably angry,” he confessed, his voice low and intense. you were silent, your heart pounding as he stepped even closer. his presence was overwhelming, the air between you crackling with unspoken tension. without breaking eye contact, he reached out, taking the cigarette from your hand. he brought it to his lips, taking a slow puff, a small smile playing on his lips.

“mind your own business,” you said, your voice shaking slightly. “we’re nothing but friends, according to you.” he took another puff before leaning in, his gaze never wavering. in a swift motion, he pulled you in for a kiss. for a moment, you kissed him back, lost in the familiar warmth and intensity. but reality snapped back, and you pushed him away, anger and confusion swirling inside you.

“i have no interest in playing your games anymore,” you said firmly, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. he was taken aback, his expression one of surprise and hurt, but he stayed silent. you stepped back, your eyes meeting his one last time. “stick to your usual players,” you told him, your voice laced with finality.

turning on your heel, you walked back into the bar, leaving jungkook standing alone in the night. the door closed behind you, the noise and warmth of the bar enveloping you once more. jackson looked up as you returned, concern flickering in his eyes, but you gave him a reassuring smile, trying to push the encounter from your mind. as you rejoined the group, the weight of the moment lingered, a heavy reminder of the complicated web of emotions you were entangled in. the night carried on, the air thick with unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

the night blurred as you indulged in the haze of alcohol, the edges of your reality softening with each drink. jungkook had returned to the bar, his presence a sharp contrast to the numbness that enveloped you. he made a deliberate effort to ignore you and jackson, his attention directed toward the girl beside him. she was a stranger to him, her name unimportant as she pressed kisses to his neck and traced her fingers along his collarbone.

you hadn't planned on drinking as much as you did. but when you caught a glimpse of the butterfly on the girl's wrist, the sight stung like a needle, memories of jungkook's monarch tattoo flooding back, memories of your own cherished drawing flooding back. you stared at the bottom of your glass, realizing you had lost count of how many times it had been filled and emptied.

jihyo noticed first, her eyes filled with sympathy as she took the glass from your hand, ignoring your feeble protests. jackson, his expression a mix of concern and exasperation, leaned in close. “you've had too much,” he murmured, his voice gentle yet firm. you wanted to argue, to push away his words, but the truth of them settled heavily on your shoulders. you felt too relaxed, your movements sluggish and your thoughts muddled. jackson announced to the group that he was taking you home, his tone leaving no room for debate.

that was when jungkook's attention was drawn back to you. he watched, his eyes darkening with an emotion he couldn't name, as jackson helped you to your feet. jungkook's heart twisted painfully as he saw the way you clung to him, your fingers gripping his shirt as if it were the only thing keeping you upright. he wanted to intervene, to take you in his arms and carry you home himself, but the weight of his own pride held him back. all he could do was watch as jackson guided you out of the bar, the girl's touch losing its allure entirely.

the walk home was a stumbling journey, your words slurring together in a drunken rant about what an asshole jungkook was. jackson did his best to console you, his voice soothing even as a pang of jealousy tightened in his chest. the sight of you in pain, tears glistening in your eyes, was almost more than he could bear.

when you finally reached your front door, he paused, his hands gentle as he steadied you. “seeing you cry was one of the worst experiences of my life,” he confessed, his voice low and earnest. “any man who makes you cry doesn't deserve you.” you looked at him, the sincerity in his eyes cutting through the fog of alcohol. he leaned in, pressing a final kiss to your cheek, the touch tender and bittersweet. “take care of yourself,” he whispered before turning to leave, the weight of his unspoken feelings lingering in the air.

you watched him go, your heart heavy with the tumult of emotions swirling inside you. the night was quiet now, the world around you still as you stood on your doorstep, the echo of jackson's words ringing in your ears. inside, the emptiness of your home seemed to mirror the void in your heart. you stumbled to your room, collapsing onto your bed, your mind replaying the events of the night. the taste of jungkook's kiss still lingered on your lips, a reminder of the complicated web of feelings you couldn't untangle. as sleep finally claimed you, your dreams were a tangled mess of memories and emotions, a reflection of the chaos that had become your reality.

the next day dawned with a dreary sky, the clouds heavy and swollen with impending rain. the rhythmic patter of raindrops against your window was a somber lullaby, pulling you from the clutches of a restless sleep. you groaned, the pounding in your head a relentless reminder of the previous night's excesses. forcing yourself out of bed, you prepared for the day, each movement deliberate and slow, as if the weight of your thoughts had seeped into your very bones.

the campus was a blur of umbrellas and hurried footsteps, the rain a persistent curtain that blurred the edges of your vision. you pulled your jacket tighter, shivering as the cold droplets kissed your skin. as you made your way to your morning class, a voice called out, stopping you in your tracks. “wait! could you come with me to the office?”

you turned to see one of the teachers, her expression unreadable. nervousness clawed at your insides, but you nodded, falling into step beside her. the walk to the office felt interminable, the walls closing in as a sense of dread pooled in your stomach. once inside, she gestured for you to sit, her demeanor serious. you complied, the anxiety almost unbearable as you waited for her to speak.

“the school’s program sends ten students from different departments every year to japan,” she began, her voice measured. “they spend a year at our sister art academy to strengthen their future as artists.” you nodded, your heart pounding. “i’m aware.”

she leaned forward, her eyes intense. “your sculptures have caught the eyes of many. you’re the top candidate. would you be interested?” the words hung in the air, your mind reeling. excitement surged through you, momentarily banishing the remnants of your hangover. “yes, absolutely!”

a smile ghosted across her lips. “you’ll need to create one more simple piece, something that speaks to you. can you do that?” you nodded, your thoughts already racing. “yes, i’m on it.”

“good. finish and present it as soon as possible.” you left the office, the rain still falling in relentless sheets. the excitement that had bubbled within you was quickly overshadowed by a gnawing hesitation. the reality of what the opportunity meant settled in, heavy and unyielding. you would be leaving everything behind—your friends, your school, and jungkook.

the thought of leaving him sent a fresh wave of uncertainty crashing over you. despite everything, despite the confusion and the pain, he was a part of your world. the idea of being an ocean away from him was almost too much to bear. you found yourself wandering aimlessly, the rain soaking through your clothes, each step feeling heavier than the last. your mind was a tempest, torn between the excitement of a new adventure and the fear of the unknown. the prospect of creating another sculpture loomed before you, a task that now felt monumental under the weight of your emotions.

the memory of your last piece resurfaced, the butterflies chasing freedom only to realize they needed love. the irony wasn’t lost on you. as you trudged through the rain, you realized that this new piece had to encapsulate everything you felt—the excitement, the fear, the longing, and the love. you headed back to the studio, the familiar scent of clay and plaster a strange comfort. as you began to work, the world outside faded away. your hands moved almost of their own accord, shaping and molding, each touch a cathartic release of the turmoil within. the rain continued its steady rhythm against the windows, a melancholic soundtrack to your efforts.

hours passed in a blur, your focus unbroken despite the emotional storm raging inside you. the sculpture began to take shape, a raw, unfiltered expression of your heart. it was a simple piece, yet it spoke volumes—a delicate balance of freedom and love, the very essence of your struggle. by the time you stepped back to admire your work, exhaustion had settled into your bones, but there was a sense of accomplishment too. the piece was a part of you, a fragment of your soul made tangible.

as you stepped into the bustling café where you had arranged to meet jihyo and jackson, the atmosphere was charged with the soft hum of conversations and clinking coffee cups. the light rain that had persisted throughout the day drummed gently against the café’s windows, adding a soothing rhythm to the scene. you were greeted by their warm smiles as you took your seat, the weight of the day’s revelation still heavy on your shoulders.

jackson leaned forward, his eyes alight with genuine enthusiasm. “you know, this opportunity is amazing. your talent has always been evident, and this chance in japan is well-deserved. i’m so proud of you.” jihyo nodded in agreement, her eyes reflecting the same pride and encouragement. “you’ve worked so hard. this is the kind of break you need to truly shine. i know you’re feeling hesitant, but remember how much you’ve accomplished. this is your chance to take it to the next level.”

you smiled weakly, your excitement mingling with apprehension. “i definitely plan to take it. it’s just, everything’s happening so fast, and i’m not sure how to let go of everything I’m leaving behind.”

jackson reached across the table, placing a comforting hand on yours. “your art is the best thing about you. it’s not just a part of you; it’s a reflection of who you are. anyone who gets to experience it, anyone who gets to know you through your art, is incredibly fortunate. you’re meant for great things.”

“thank you,” you said softly, feeling a wave of gratitude mixed with unease. it was then that you noticed a familiar figure through the café’s window. your heart skipped a beat as you saw jungkook sitting outside, his presence an unexpected jolt to your already fraught emotions. your breath caught in your throat as you observed him with another girl, who sat comfortably in his lap. they were sharing an intimate kiss, the tenderness of the moment starkly contrasting with the chaos swirling inside you.

the sight was a knife to your heart, the image of their closeness slicing through your resolve. you felt the world around you narrow, the laughter and chatter of the café fading into a distant hum. every beat of your heart seemed to echo with the impact of what you were witnessing. the gentle curve of jungkook’s smile, the way he held her—it was a brutal reminder of what you were losing. struggling to maintain composure, you excused yourself with a shaky voice. “i think i need some air. i’ll walk home.”

without waiting for their response, you stood abruptly, the café’s warmth feeling stifling against the cold storm brewing inside you. you pushed through the door, the crisp rain and cool air a sharp contrast to the suffocating emotions that had taken hold. each step felt heavy, the rain drumming against your skin a harsh, unrelenting reminder of the turmoil within.

as you walked, the image of jungkook and the girl replayed in your mind, a relentless echo that seemed to drown out all other thoughts. your heart felt like it was being pulled in a hundred directions at once—toward the excitement of your new opportunity and the painful reality of what you might be leaving behind. the rain continued to fall, mingling with the tears that slipped down your cheeks, unnoticed. the world around you seemed to blur, your thoughts a chaotic whirl of feelings and memories. the prospect of the future was overshadowed by the haunting present, and the weight of your choices seemed almost unbearable. you trudged along, the journey home a silent testament to the internal struggle you faced. the thought of him and his effortless connection with someone else was a harsh reminder of the emotional complexity you had to navigate, and the path ahead felt uncertain and fraught with both hope and heartache.

the rain fell in heavy, unrelenting sheets as you walked home, each step a painful reminder of the emotional weight you carried. the sky was a somber gray, the clouds a reflection of the storm raging inside you. your body felt frail, your legs weak, as if the very essence of your being was being drained away. the weight of what you had seen, the raw pain of feeling worthless, clung to you with an almost tangible heaviness. jungkook had meant the world to you, yet now it seemed that even that precious world was slipping through your fingers, leaving nothing but a hollow ache.

you trudged along the empty streets, the rhythmic patter of raindrops against the pavement blending with the chaotic rhythm of your thoughts. the cold rain soaked through your clothes, chilling you to the bone, but it barely registered against the emotional frost that had settled over your heart.

suddenly, you heard your name being called out. the voice was distant, but unmistakable. you recognized it instantly. it was him. you kept walking, trying to push the sound away, as if ignoring it could somehow make it disappear. but then, you heard it again, more urgent, cutting through the rain-soaked night. your steps faltered, and you turned around, your heart sinking as you saw him running towards you, his figure becoming clearer with each stride.

jungkook was drenched, the rain pouring down his face, mingling with the anguish that seemed to be etched into his features. his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. he reached you, breathless and soaked to the skin, but his presence was like a burning beacon in the storm.

“don’t go,” he said, his voice breaking through the relentless roar of the rain. you stared at him, confusion mingling with the pain in your chest. “what are you talking about?”

“i heard about japan,” he continued, his voice raw and pleading. “don’t go. please.”

the words struck you like a blow, but you fought to keep your composure. “i have no reason to stay,” you replied, your voice trembling despite your efforts to remain firm. to your surprise, jungkook took your hands into his, his grip warm and desperate. “i need you here,” he said, his eyes filled with a pleading intensity. “i need you to stay.”

the tears that you had been holding back began to well up, blurring your vision. you pulled your hands away from his grasp, your voice cracking as you spoke. “i need to be as far away from you as possible. i like you too much, jungkook. i care for you, but i can’t give you the freedom you want. i need to chase my own freedom.”

you turned away, but his grip was swift and unyielding. he grabbed your arm, pulling you back, his fingers digging in with a desperation that matched your own inner turmoil. you could hear the ragged breaths escaping from his lips as he clung to you, his voice barely above a whisper. “please, just stay. don’t go.” you tried to pull away, but he held on, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close until your back was pressed against his chest. his embrace was both comforting and agonizing, a paradox of warmth and sorrow. you could feel his heartbeat against your back, a rhythmic reminder of the pain that was being shared between you.

he whispered into your ear, his voice trembling with emotion. “i need you. please don’t leave me.”

the tears streamed down your face uncontrollably as you remained silent, the weight of the decision pressing heavily upon you. his pleas were a bittersweet melody that tore at your heart, the pain of leaving him and the freedom you sought intertwining into a tormenting dance. with a final, wrenching sob, you pulled your arm away, turning to face him one last time. his face was a picture of heartache, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as he watched you, his expression a mixture of longing and devastation. the sight of him, so vulnerable and broken, was almost too much to bear.

you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you turned away once more. the rain seemed to pour harder, as if the heavens were weeping for the love you were leaving behind. you walked away, each step feeling like an eternity, the pain of leaving jungkook and the promise of your future battling within your heart. the finality of your decision was a heavy burden, but you knew that you had to forge ahead, even as the sorrow of what you were leaving behind threatened to consume you.

the night had been a long, dark tunnel through which you stumbled, your steps muffled by the weight of your sorrow. the rain had pattered relentlessly against your window, a haunting lullaby that matched the rhythm of your tearful sobs. you had cried yourself to sleep, each tear a silent testament to the heartache that coursed through you, mingling with the cold emptiness of the night. the warmth of your bed was of little comfort, overshadowed by the turmoil that roiled within your chest.

as dawn broke, its pale light filtered through your curtains, casting a somber glow over the room. the sun’s early rays were a stark contrast to the storm inside you. you rose, your movements slow and weary, the exhaustion from the previous night clinging to you like a second skin. with a heavy heart and leaden steps, you prepared yourself for the day ahead—the day of your presentation.

the studio was quiet, save for the soft hum of fluorescent lights overhead. you walked to your piece, the weight of the day pressing heavily on your shoulders. the sculpture you had created—a delicate representation of butterflies and an outstretched hand—stood in the center of the room, bathed in the cold light of morning. the clay had been shaped with painstaking care, each butterfly a testament to your emotions, each wing a silent echo of your heartache.

you gazed at the sculpture, your breath catching in your throat. the butterflies, which had once been a symbol of your freedom, now seemed to mock your sorrow. their fragile wings, once vibrant and hopeful, were now a muted reflection of your internal struggle. the hand beneath them was extended as if in an eternal gesture of solace, yet it seemed to grasp at something forever out of reach. the piece was a paradox—a representation of the freedom you yearned for, coupled with the love you were leaving behind.

your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your teacher’s voice, cutting through the silence like a lifeline. “everyone's waiting,” she said, her tone gentle yet firm. the words jolted you into action, and with one final, reluctant glance at your sculpture, you lifted it with trembling hands. the weight of the piece felt like an anchor, dragging you toward the theatre room where your presentation awaited.

as you entered the room, the atmosphere was charged with anticipation. the space was filled with an array of faces—jihyo and jackson, their supportive expressions a stark contrast to the tension that gripped you; the professors from japan, their keen eyes scanning you with a mixture of curiosity and evaluation; and jungkook, who sat among them, his presence a palpable ache in your chest. he looked worn, his face haggard as if the night had been a battleground of its own. when the room fell silent, you began your presentation, your voice wavering as you started to speak. your gaze frequently flickered to your piece, but it was jungkook’s eyes that held you captive. the connection between you was electric, a silent conversation that spoke louder than words.

you began to explain your sculpture in intricate detail, your words a poignant reflection of the emotions you had poured into it. “the butterflies,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion, “represent the pursuit of freedom. they chase after an elusive goal, their wings a delicate dance of hope and struggle. eventually, after chasing freedom for so long, their wings began to wither. fall apart. they become weak, as they search for solace from the hand that awaits them,” each phrase you uttered felt like a resonating dagger piercing through jungkook’s heart, each description a painful reminder of what you were leaving behind.

the room’s ambient noise faded into a background hum as your focus remained solely on jungkook. the intensity of his gaze made it hard to breathe, and despite the precision of your words, you could not hide the tears that brimmed in your eyes. the sculpture, which you had hoped would be a beacon of your artistic achievement, was overshadowed by the rawness of your feelings. as you concluded, your voice cracked with emotion. “all they’ve ever known was freedom,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper, “nevertheless, all they ever needed was love.”

the professors responded with polite applause, their approval a distant echo to the tumultuous storm of your emotions. Your heart was focused solely on the sight of jungkook, whose eyes were fixed on the sculpture with an expression of profound sadness. a single tear slid down his cheek, tracing a path that seemed to embody all the words left unsaid between you.

he turned abruptly, his face a canvas of heartbreak, and you watched as he walked away, your eyes following the path of his butterfly tattoo. the symbol, so intricately tied to your shared history, seemed to pulse with a haunting resonance. it was as if the butterfly was an echo of the love and freedom you both had chased, now left fluttering in the storm of your separation. the finality of his departure was a bitter pill, and as you stood there, the weight of the moment pressed heavily upon you. the sculpture, the presentation, and the love you were leaving behind melded into a poignant tableau of loss and longing.

the presentation room, once filled with the fervor of evaluation, gradually settled into a subdued murmur as the professors gathered their thoughts. their voices, though hushed, carried an air of reverence. one of them, an elderly man with a sharp gaze softened by years of experience, approached you with a warm smile. “your work is extraordinary,” he said, his voice rich with genuine admiration. “the way you’ve captured the essence of freedom and love through your sculpture is nothing short of brilliant.”

another professor, a woman with a commanding presence and a graceful poise, nodded in agreement. “indeed,” she added, her eyes sparkling with approval. “your piece speaks volumes. the subtlety and depth of emotion conveyed through your butterflies and the extended hand reflect an understanding of art that goes beyond technique. it’s a rare gift.”

you stood there, feeling their praise wash over you like a gentle tide. despite their words, a hollow emptiness lingered within you, a void that seemed impervious to their accolades. they continued, “we are pleased to inform you that the academy in japan has reviewed your work and welcomes your arrival as soon as tonight.”

the words were a formal acknowledgment of what you had anticipated, but they did little to stir excitement within you. you simply nodded, your face an impassive mask that concealed the whirlwind of emotions brewing beneath. your teacher, who had been a silent witness to the exchange, gave you a supportive pat on the shoulder, her eyes reflecting a mixture of pride and empathy.

as you prepared to leave, jihyo and jackson were by your side, enveloping you in heartfelt congratulations. “you did it!” jihyo exclaimed, her voice a mixture of joy and sadness. “this is such a great opportunity for you.” jackson joined in, his embrace firm and reassuring. “we’re so proud of you,” he said, his voice heavy with sincerity. “this is your chance to shine, to make your mark on the world.” yet, amidst their praises and supportive words, you felt a profound emptiness. the accolades, the approval, even the opportunity felt distant, overshadowed by the weight of your own emotional turmoil.

just as you were about to leave to pack, jackson’s voice stopped you in your tracks. “wait,” he called softly. you turned to face him, curiosity mingled with trepidation in your eyes.

he took a deep breath, his expression a blend of melancholy and resolve. “i knew it would never be me,” he began, his voice steady yet laden with unspoken emotion. “when i saw your work, and when i saw jungkook’s tattoo, i understood that this was something i could never be a part of.” his words were an acknowledgment of the deep-seated truths that had been woven into the fabric of your shared experiences.

his gaze softened as he pulled a sleek black box from his pocket. “i have something for you,” he said, holding it out with a tender gesture. “jungkook asked me to give this to you.” with a final, gentle kiss to your forehead, he wished you a safe journey, his eyes filled with a mix of hope and resignation. “i’ll always be waiting for you,” he said softly.

you accepted the box, feeling the weight of it in your hand. as you turned to leave, the heaviness of your heart seemed to magnify with every step. the box felt like a tangible piece of the emotions you were grappling with, a silent witness to the complexity of your feelings. once you were home, the task of packing your bags seemed almost secondary to the allure of the box. you set your belongings aside, your gaze fixed on the small, unassuming container. the anticipation was almost unbearable as you slowly opened it.

inside, nestled in a bed of soft black velvet, lay a silver necklace. the pendant was an exquisite butterfly, its delicate wings capturing the light with a subtle sheen. the craftsmanship was impeccable, every detail of the butterfly’s form rendered with a delicate precision that took your breath away. your hands trembled as you lifted the necklace, the weight of it feeling like a physical manifestation of the emotions you had been suppressing. with a mixture of reverence and sorrow, you clasped the necklace around your neck. the cold metal brushed against your skin, and you could feel the butterfly resting over your heart.

as you fastened the clasp, the floodgates opened, and the sobs that had been building up erupted uncontrollably. the tears streamed down your face, each one a reflection of the anguish and longing that had been bottled up inside. the necklace, a symbol of love and departure, seemed to echo the pain of leaving behind the things and people you cherished.

you sank onto your bed, the weight of the necklace a bittersweet reminder of jungkook's affection and the heartbreak that had marked your journey. the room, once a sanctuary, now felt like a space where your emotions were laid bare, each tear a testament to the complexity of your farewell. the necklace glistened softly in the dim light, a silent witness to your sorrow and the new chapter that awaited you. as you lay there, the tears slowly subsiding, the butterfly pendant against your skin felt like a fragile promise—a delicate symbol of the freedom you sought and the love you had to leave behind.

the airport buzzed with the ceaseless motion of travelers, each with their own stories of departure and arrival, but for you, it felt like the world had stopped. every step toward the gate was weighted with the gravity of what you were leaving behind. the butterfly pendant lay cold against your chest, a stark reminder of the connection you still felt to jungkook, its delicate form pressed close to your heart.

the evening was draped in a shroud of melancholy, the terminal lights casting a pale glow over the bustling scene. you walked through the throngs of people, each stride a battle against the urge to turn back, to run away from the decision that tore at your soul. the departure board loomed ahead, and you searched for your gate, the numbers and letters blurring together through the haze of your emotions.

when you finally reached your gate, your heart sank. the moment had come, and the reality of your departure hit you with a force that nearly knocked the breath from your lungs. the weight of your chest was unbearable, the ache of leaving everything behind more than you had anticipated. your mind swirled with thoughts of jungkook, the memories of your time together interwoven with the pain of parting. just as you were about to resign yourself to the inevitable, you heard your name being called. it was a voice you would recognize anywhere, even amidst the cacophony of the airport. you turned slowly, your breath catching in your throat. there he was, running toward you with an urgency that mirrored the turmoil in your heart.

you stood frozen, unable to move as jungkook reached you, his breath ragged from the sprint. his eyes, filled with a mix of desperation and love, locked onto yours. “don’t leave,” he pleaded, his voice breaking with the weight of his emotions. the tears were quick to follow, faster than your words could form, streaming down your cheeks in a torrent of unspoken pain. he continued, his voice trembling. “i don’t just need you,” he said, his hands trembling as he reached out to cup your face with a gentleness that broke your heart. “i love you. i can’t bear the thought of you being so far from me.”

the background noise of the airport faded into nothingness as you sobbed, your vision blurred by the flood of tears. his touch was a balm to your aching heart, his words a lifeline in the storm of your emotions. he repeated himself, his voice steadying with conviction. “i love you.” in that moment, the world around you ceased to exist. it was just the two of you, standing at the precipice of a decision that would alter the course of your lives. you allowed yourself to melt into his embrace, the warmth of his body a stark contrast to the cold metal of the necklace against your skin.

“i love you too,” you whispered, your voice barely audible through the sobs that wracked your body. the admission was a release, a catharsis of the emotions you had held back for so long. you clung to him, feeling the strength of his love envelop you, grounding you in a way you hadn’t felt in ages. but even as you surrendered to the moment, a small voice in the back of your mind whispered the harsh truth. you knew it wasn’t love, not in the way that was meant to last. it was a tempest of passion and pain, a connection born from the shared scars of your pasts and the unspoken longing that had drawn you together.

as you stood there, entwined in each other’s arms, you knew that this love, however flawed and fleeting, was all you had ever wanted. it was the reason your heart ached, the reason your soul soared, and as you buried your face in his shoulder, you made a silent promise to cherish this love for as long as it lasted, no matter how brief or bittersweet. no, it wasn't love. nevertheless, you were in love with him.

✧.*

a/n: if there's one thing i'm gonna do it's add jackson wang as a random side character...this was inspired by my favorite horror kdrama aka nevertheless

[cowgirlcasanova]

I made the mistake of clicking on a link to a reddit thread about abigail marston.

the way the men on there talk about her makes me physically feel sick. the names they call her, the way they describe her and john’s relationship, the way they constantly bring up her past in a negative way.

They seem to lack any and all artistic thinking skills. to me, one of the main points of media and art is how you’re supposed to analyze and discover the things they aren’t outright said. You have to dig a little deeper, you have to actually think. The people on that godforsaken website seem to just not have/be able to do that!

abigail was a prostitute. yes, we all know this men of reddit and it’s okay! please shut up about it!!!!

she was also an orphan, even worse for the time, an orphaned girl. she had little to no opportunities in the world she was born into. EVEN JOHN KNOWS THIS. “she’s a woman in a man’s world” and they act personally offended on johns behalf. john was an orphan too, i can promise you he understands how hard it is to survive and he doesn’t look down on her! Not that it even begins to matter if john or anyone else “understands” her reasoning for her choice of survival. It doesn’t. it simply matters that abigail was incredibly strong throughout that time of her life and rest. she survived and did whatever she could to and that is to be appreciated.

These men seem to have this one single idea that “abigail was prostitute so john thought baby not his cause so many men 🤓” SHUT. UP. no actually that was so much more actually john not ready to be a father and being afraid of himself!!!! honestly speaking, the entirety of that situation has very little to do with abigail herself. but no they’ll never understand that because it was written out in black and white and you may have to think a little to get to that conclusion. not to mention, they could never accept it because then john marston wouldn’t be as “alpha” BE QUIET IM BEGGING YOU.

the way they discuss abigail and uncle made my skin crawl. there is nothing else said about that relationship, there is no one specific cannon explanation as to how or why they knew each other. but the men i saw discussing it said such disgusting and vulgar things about how uncle “reallyyy knew abigail”. truly horrifying. There’s so many different ways they could’ve crossed paths. she was a prostitute but that’s not all she was. she was still a woman, a person. i can assure you she had other hobbies and activities that she did, that she enjoyed doing.

not to mention how it seems to be such an odd and disgusting fantasy for them that “everyone in the gang had abigail” i hate to break it to you but no they didn’t! Now this is up for debate for a lot of people and i actually want to make an entire post just dedicated to this. When looking at both instances where that was said, it was purposely said to hurt john and throw him off. not to mention, abigail was never around when it was said. There wasn’t an instance of anyone saying it in camp or even throwing an insult to john about it in rdr2. hmmm i wonder why that is????? Bill said it to make him stumble and dutch said it because he knows john and he knows how to hit him where it hurts. But, i don’t think any of it is true. of course no internet bro is going to actually think into enough to even be curious so!

abigail marston is someone to be admired. someone who persevered as much as any man in that gang but she doesn’t get the same appreciation. she probably had to work just as hard if not harder than some of the men just to stay alive in her youth. Abigail marston is not a nag, she’s not annoying, she’s not “mean” to john. take a step back and look at what she’s responding to and give her the same grace you give arthur and john. “oh well arthur just had a hard time showing emotions because of the way he was raised” “oh john couldn’t deal with everything so he ran away for a little bit it’s okay.” let abigail have that same grace.

so sorry this was not meant to be this long. clearly it has been nagging at me. if you read this love you and love abigail marston!

[jeonginsleftcheek]

The sun to me

Chapter XI. Keep.

pairing: hwang hyunjin x afab!reader

word count: 5.7k

chapter summary: a love so great it appears in the reflection of a tear, in the sound of hushed voices and three words exchanged between lovers that bring a deeper meaning to the thread that connects.

warnings: lots of kissing and sweet nicknames(again), multiple sex scenes, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (again), choking, creampie, public sex (there's no one there), hyunjin is a bit possessive

~ Masterlist for the series

~ next part

🌹 Rose - true love, romance

The door slams loudly with the wind as Hyunjin's sneakers squeak on the clean wooden floor.

Isaac's head snaps from his newspapers as he looks up and sees the boy who's supposed to be staying at his house, seemingly in a rush as he looks around and scratches his head in thought.

"Oh, look who's here."- Isaac sighs with a warm smile, putting the newspaper down on the table.

Hyunjin lets out a chuckle, running his hand through his hair and smoothing it out a little.

"It's me, I'm here."- Hyunjin wiggles his fingers in a funny manner as Isaac motions for him to come closer.

"At least give me some time of the day and join me for tea."- he says. "Unless you're going to see your darling."

"Well, I was... I was actually gonna look for some paints I wanted to use today at her shop."

"Is she working now?"- Isaac asks and Hyunjin nods.

"Then, join me for a little while."

"Of course."- Hyunjin smiles as he sits down next to Isaac.

"So, tell me, how are things going?"- the older man asks as he pours a cup of tea for Hyunjin.

"Perfect. Almost too perfect. But I have this nagging feeling inside me, because I know at some point, I will have to leave this island and I don't think y/n would leave her garden behind, even for me. Besides, I would never ask that of her, I know how much she put into it and the flower shop. It's like asking her to choose between me and her precious flowers."- Hyunjin quickly shakes his head.

"You said once before you'd like to stay here."- Isaac remembers.

"I did, but I have a gallery to attend to. God knows what Charlie has done with it by now. It was always my dream to open up a gallery of my own and have exhibitions of my art there. To have people come in and admire my work as well as work of other artists whom I admire. It's all I ever dreamed of, a life of art."- Hyunjin talks with a wistful look on his face.

"And what is your dream now?"- Isaac asks and your smiling face, your warm hands, your sweet lips swirl in his mind instantly.

"Y/n. She's my dream."- he smiles and Isaac lets out a quiet chuckle.

"There you have it, the end to your dilemma."- he says and Hyunjin looks up from his cup to him.

"Listen, if two people are in love and willing to work on their relationship, nothing can come in their way and make them fall apart. I believe in both of you. As I came to know you, I realized you're both strong individuals with strong hearts that have endured hardships in their lives. What you need is a little warmness and kindness and if that's all you have for each other then there are no worries! You can conquer the world together so an ocean between you shouldn't mean a thing."

Hyunjin chews on his lip a little as he thinks about Isaac's words, a flicker of hope burning wilder inside him.

"Thank you, Isaac."- he smiles.

"No problem, son."

Hyunjin makes his way to your flower shop with a promise on his lips.

You're tending to your dear flowers, an unwavering smile on your face as you touch their petals and inhale the sweet scent.

Footsteps approach your shop and as they enter, you know it's Hyunjin, you have it engraved in your mind, even the sound of his footsteps ring familiarity in your soul.

"Hey, flower."- his arms wrap around your middle before you can even turn around to see his face.

"Hey, lover."- you melt into him instantly as he holds you tightly, inhaling your sweet shampoo and kissing your neck and shoulder.

"Did you wait for me too long?"- he says as he lets you go so you can turn around to face him.

"No, it's okay. I had to take care of some things around the shop anyways."- you say as you wrap around each other.

Hyunjin forgets to answer when your lips are closer to his and he gives into temptation, closing the gap between you and kissing you until you're breathless.

His hands grip at your waist as you hold the back of his head, fingers tangled in his soft hair.

"The shop is open, by the way."- you mumble as he presses you against the shelf, the flowers above you like a crown for the most beautiful queen.

"Mm?"- Hyunjin smirks, leaning in to kiss your neck.

"Anyone can come in."- you grip his hair a little as he kisses you harder.

"Mm."- he mutters against your skin.

"You'll have me tonight."- you chuckle and he leans back with a pout on his face.

"I want you all the time."- he says cutely.

"You have me, Jinnie."- you gently grab his face, caressing his cheeks with your thumbs.

"Always?"- he asks, something loving flickering in his eyes.

"As long as you want me."- you smile.

"Always it is then."- he gives you a big smile and you kiss him lovingly, unable to contain yourself.

Soon enough, Hyunjin is sat at his easel as you take care of your flowers.

He paints, his hand tireless as he creates yet another vision of you he had in his mind, capturing it on the canvas, to make it last forever, always etched in time.

When you finish with your flowers, you sit down and read your book next to Hyunjin as he paints.

Nothing could ever be better than sharing comfortable silence with a lover you feel safe with.

You feel more and more encouraged every day, Hyunjin's affection lifting you up to the sky and making you feel as if anything is possible.

One look at his smile and you know he feels the same.

Come evening, Hyunjin and you are at your house again, exchanging kisses and stories as the two of you sit on the couch all comfortable after dinner.

"Love, there's something I'd like to do."- he starts, his hand on your cheek, caressing you as you hold each other close.

"What is it?"- you ask.

"I'd like to paint you nude. Would you let me?"- he asks, voice low and a wave of electricity runs through you.

"Of course. I'd like that."- you smile. "Now?"- you add, chuckling.

"If you're comfortable, then yes."- he nods.

"Give me one more kiss and then I'll let you know."- you smirk and he smirks back at you before he leans in and gives you a passionate kiss.

Even the slightest touch drives you insane and makes you burn up for Hyunjin, and when he kisses you so ardently, you can't help but melt into him, arousal already pooling on your panties.

"Was that enough to convince you?"- Hyunjin jokes and you giggle in a haze.

"More than enough."- you say and the two of you decide to go to your room for the painting.

Hyunjin sets up as you slowly strip, feeling a bit self-conscious out of nowhere.

"What is it, my love?"- Hyunjin notices you struggling as you wrap your arms around your naked body to shield yourself.

"I just... feel a bit self-conscious. You can see everything."- you mutter and he gives you an endearing smile as he makes his way to you.

"I've already seen everything."- his hands are on your face as he makes you look at him.

"Yeah, but this is different. You'll have to stare at me as you paint me. And then you'll notice every blemish and-"

"And I will admire it and worship it."- he says as he kisses your forehead.

"Jinnie..."- you pout a little as your heart beats faster and he chuckles.

"You're my goddess, there's nothing I don't admire about you."- he smiles genuinely.

"Okay, if you say so. Sorry for being like this."

"You don't have to apologize for your feelings, darling."- he says as he takes you to the bed.

You smile and kiss his lips, his cheeks and his jawline.

"If you keep doing that, I will toss the painting out and just take you."- he smirks and you giggle as your face heats up.

"Okay, I'll be good."- you tease as you sit on the bed. "So, what position do you want me in?"

Hyunjin bites on his lip, as he lays you down comfortably into the pillow and puts your arms on either sides of your head.

He spreads your legs slowly, one of them falling off the bed to reveal your pussy to him.

You swallow as you look up at him, the tender touch is leaving you shivering and wanting more.

Your hair is splayed around your head like a halo, your lips parted as you look at Hyunjin with eyes full of love.

He almost gives in and lays his body on yours but somehow he comes to his senses, only leaning down to kiss you shortly.

"Beautiful."- he smiles and you chuckle.

Hyunjin sits behind his easel as you make small talk while his eyes travel from your naked body to his canvas.

Silence covers the room like a warm blanket as Hyunjin concentrates and you're melting into the bed, feeling so relaxed and comfortable that you almost fall asleep.

"Love? Are you sleeping?"- Hyunjin chuckles and you jolt.

"No, no, I'm here. I'm present."- you say and he lets out a little giggle before he gets up.

"Maybe I need to wake you up a little."- he states as he sits on the bed.

"Mm. How will you do that?"- you smile at him blissfully as he sits down next you, his hand on your knee.

You gulp as he slowly slides it up, fingertips touching your inner thigh.

His other hand is gentle on your breast before he squeezes it.

"H-Hyunjin."- you whimper as he touches you and plays with your nipple.

"You look so alluring right now."- he looks at you darkly, his fingers coming up to touch your folds, glistening with arousal for him.

Hyunjin touches you gently, getting you to breathe faster and lose your mind slowly as he plays with your clit and nipples.

As you get more and more wet, his fingers slip between your folds as he pushes only the tips in teasingly.

"Ah!"- you moan as he grips your breast.

Just as your eyes close, the stimulation stops and you whine as you look at him.

"Jinnie..."

"Sorry, baby, I have to finish my painting."- he smirks. "But as soon as I'm done I will give you all my attention."- he promises.

"Okay."- you pout a little but let him go back to the canvas so he can continue.

You're now fully aware of the breeze that's coming from the window touching your sensitive nipples, and the arousal dripping between your legs, and the way Hyunjin's eyes are dark and concentrated on you, mapping out every little detail of your body.

You thought you would feel scrutinized but you feel so vunerable in a good way, like you're only his and he loves every little thing about you, it's all for him to admire.

"Jinnie... Are you done soon?"- he can hear the neediness in your voice and he can't deny you the pleasure you crave anymore.

"Just a few more finishing touches but that can wait."- he says as he gets up. "My flower needs me, hm?"- he asks.

"Yes, I need you so much."- you whimper and before your brain can even compute what's going on, Hyunjin is on his knees, pulling you towards the edge of the bed, your pussy right in front of his face.

"Oh."- you let out a gasp and see him smirk.

Always gentle and taking his sweet time with you, Hyunjin surprises you as he dives in immediately, his lips attached to your lower ones as he kisses you, lower lip dragging on your wetness before he finds your clit and sucks on it.

"Ah! Hyunjin!"- you whimper at the onslaught of his lips and tongue making out with you as he holds your legs open, hands pressed in your inner thighs, leaving imprints on your skin.

The greedy, slurping sounds are sinful and arousing only resulting in making you even more wet as Hyunjin drinks from you, his saliva mixing with your sweet juice.

"Oh my god."- you whimper as his tongue works his way inside you and he laps at you like a man starved, and you feel his fingertips pressing on your entrance.

Arching your back off the bed, you whine his name loudly as he pushes his fingers inside your heat to his knuckles, working them together with his tongue.

You let out a broken moan at the stimulation as he gives it his all, sucking on your clit again and pushing his fingers all the way in, filling you up deliciously and finding that special spot inside you that makes you see stars.

You lose yourself in the pleasure, shaking and lifting up to meet his hand, your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave, as you explode and release on his face and hand.

"Jinnie!"- you moan his name as he kisses you once more.

He hovers over you, his fingertips on your parted lips.

"Open up."- he says and you open your lips, letting him push his fingers in, and you lick at them, cleaning them up and tasting yourself.

The sight of you slightly choking on his bony fingers as you look at him like he's some kind of god makes his legs turn to jelly and his cock twitch in his pants.

"Good girl."- Hyunjin praises you as he pulls his fingers out, leaning down to kiss you sloppily, his tongue deep in your mouth, asserting his dominance.

You gasp for air when he pulls away, grabbing at his arms.

"I need you."- you whine.

"You need more, baby?"- he smirks and you nod.

"Yes, please."- you say quietly.

"Anything you need."

Hyunjin takes off his shirt as you admire his toned physique. He looks at you lustfully, sliding off his pants and boxers.

You lick your lips at the sight of his hard and leaking cock, made just for you to use as you please.

He tugs on his length a few times before coming closer to you.

"I wanna see you on top of me, my goddess."- he says, voice dark and low.

You sit up and give him a lazy smirk.

"Make yourself comfortable, lover."- you whisper, fingertips grazing his neck and collarbone.

Hyunjin sits up in the pillows, his whole body on full display for you as you crawl over to him.

Your legs are on either sides of him and you hover over his cock, your palms planted on his chest.

You slowly rake your fingers down, and he arches into you, his eyes fluttering and he looks at you with hooded eyes.

You can feel every shiver of his body under your touch and you know you have the same effect on him as he does on you.

You grab the base of his cock, running the tip over your folds.

"Please, baby stop teasing me."- Hyunjin whines and you giggle, teasing his length just for a few more moments, before you finally slide down on him, slowly taking his whole length, little moans spilling from your lips.

"Mm, that's it, my flower, take all of me in."- Hyunjin groans as he grips your hips and pushes up into you.

"J-Jinnie."- you cry out as he fills you up perfectly, it's almost too much and you grip his shoulders.

"Take your time."- he whispers, hands running up from your lower back up, then down on your waist, to your ass as he grabs handfuls of it, pulling you on him and making you grind.

You start moving slowly after you adjust and he observes you the whole time, holding your hips, his eyes looking into your soul, then to your parted lips, then down to your breasts, bouncing slightly as you take him gently.

He pulls you into a kiss, and it gets more heated the more kisses you exchange, your mind and body buzzing and screaming for more.

You start fucking on him faster, needing to feel him deep inside you, all of him, and he helps you bounce, meeting your movements with his.

"Hyunjin!"- you moan his name as he hits your spot.

"Ah, my rose, my beautiful rose."- he moans as he fucks up into you, driving you even more feral.

"I need you, I need you deep inside me."- you bounce harder, making the bed creak and Hyunjin grunts loudly as he digs his nails into your hips and lets you use him.

"Take me, my love. Take all you need. Devour me."- he keeps moaning as your hands wrap around his neck, something primal waking up inside you as you drip on his hard cock, using it for your pleasure and Hyunjin looks at you with eyes full of admiration.

You squeeze his neck a little, making him whimper as he grips your hips even harder, probably leaving bruises there as evidence of the passion shared between you.

"I- I can't hold it much longer, flower. I'm gonna cum."- Hyunjin whines.

"Cum inside me, lover."- you say and he gasps a little, hands on your ass, gripping it again.

"A-are you sure?"- he looks at you sweetly, with puppy eyes and his lips jutting out.

"Yes, I want you to fill me up, Jinnie. Make me yours forever."- you moan, your nails digging into his shoulders.

"Fuck, okay I'll make you mine forever."- he groans and fucks up harder into you.

Your vision blurs as you scream, throwing your head back and cumming all over his cock, his name on your tongue.

Hyunjin explodes inside of you before he can even control it, the feeling of his warm cum filling you up makes your eyes roll back in your head.

He grabs onto your breasts as you keep moving your hips on him, overstimulating him.

"Mm, y/n, my muse."- he whines and his lips attach to your nipple, sucking on the sensitive bud as you tangle your hands in his hair, gripping it a little, his cock slowly going limp inside you.

His arms wrap around you as he lays his cheek on your breast and you wrap your arms around him, caressing his head gently, running your fingers through his hair dampened with sweat.

The moment is sweet and quiet as you stick to each other, not wanting to leave the embrace that's full of safety and love.

Suddenly, you feel something wet on your skin and hear Hyunjin sniffle.

"Hyunjin?!"- you panic, grabbing his face and lifting it up to make him look at you.

Your heart breaks when you meet his eyes, big and glassy, hot tears sliding down his cheeks as his lips tremble.

"What's wrong?"- you're still in panic mode as he isn't answering, your thumbs catching his tears.

"I love you."- he says like it's been weighing on his soul, like he waited for an eternity just to utter those three words to you and now he has found relief.

A wave of warmness travels through you, hitting your heart with an explosion of love for the man beneath you.

"I love you."- you say sweetly, giddily, gently, like saccharine is dripping from your very lips and Hyunjin's face lights up with a big smile, almost as that of an innocent child, their soul still untouched by everything bad in the world, heart still pure and unbroken.

Hyunjin starts chuckling happily, his plump lips kissing you everywhere they can reach, making you laugh as you hold onto him and endure the loving agression of his kisses.

"I didn't mean to cry."- he shakes his head. "I'm just overwhelmingly happy."

"I know, lover. But, you can cry in front of me if you need to, don't worry about that."- you smile, holding his face in your hands like you're holding the whole world.

"Thank you, y/n, you're so wonderful to me."- Hyunjin almost cries again so he buries his face in your neck and leaves kisses on your damp skin.

"You don't have to thank me."- you smile as you kiss the top of his head.

The same night as your tired limbs tangle together and you find home in each other's arms, hushed voices repeat those three words until you both fall asleep, hearts full and eyes teary.

It's just around 5am when Hyunjin squints his eyes, tilting his head at you as you bring him a cup of coffee.

The morning air in your garden is crisp and welcoming after a warm night under the blankets with Hyunjin's body pressed against yours.

"Good morning, sleepyhead."- you chuckle, pinching his cheek and leaning down to kiss his forehead.

You're about to move away but Hyunjin is quick to grab you and keep you in place, his arms enveloping you as he buries his face in your tummy and whines.

You giggle, your hands on his head instantly, giving him pats and caresses.

He says something into you, sending vibrations through your stomach that tickle you and you laugh.

"What was that?"- you ask and he looks up at you, his chin still leaned on you.

"Why are we up this early?"- he pouts.

"I'm taking you to my last favorite hidden place here."- you smile.

"Oh really? I almost forgot you were my tour guide."- he smiles cheekily as you play with his hair.

"Your tour guide got distracted."- you smirk.

"The distraction was worth it, though."- he says and pulls you down for a kiss before he releases you so you can actually eat breakfast and drink some coffee.

Hyunjin wakes up after that, and the two of you prepare some picnic food and stuff you'll need.

"You're not telling me anything?"- he asks with a cute pout.

"Nuh-uh."- you shake your head and kiss his pouty lips.

"What if I bribe you with kisses?"- he asks and you laugh.

"I'd enjoy your attempts but you'll see it when we get there."

"Give me at least one hint. Cause I really feel like I've seen it all."- Hyunjin whines.

"Okay, we're using a boat. Delmar lent it to us."

"Oh? Who's gonna steer it?"- he asks and you smirk.

"I am."

"I didn't know you could do that."- Hyunjin gasps with a smile.

"Well, now you do."- you say and he shakes his head in disbelief before giving you a sweet kiss.

"Alright, lead the way captain!"- he salutes you and you laugh as the two of you walk out of the house.

You talk quietly on the way to the pier, not wanting to disturb the silence enfolding the sleepy island.

"I'm gonna need a little help."- you say as the two of you arrive to Delmar's boat. "I need you to pull the boat towards the pier."

"Okay, I can do that."- Hyunjin nods quickly, stretching his arms a little and rolling his sleeves up.

He grips the rope and pulls, grunting a little and you bite on your lip as you stare at his arms.

You let out a giggle and he turns to look at you.

"Am I funny?"

"No, you're hot."- you wiggle your eyebrows.

"Oh."- he smirks.

"But you're funny too."- you nod and he pouts at you jokingly.

"Okay hop on, captain, I can't hold this forever."- Hyunjin says and you laugh as you see him struggling a little.

After you're both in and moving, Hyunjin sits close to you as you steer the boat.

"What?"- you yell slightly over the loud sound.

"That's kinda hot."- he says and you laugh, shaking your head.

Both of you enjoy the view after that, and Hyunjin feels excited about where you're taking him.

"We're here."- you say as you slow down and a small island comes into view, even smaller than the one you just left behind.

After you successfully moor the boat and get out, you walk out to the beautiful and almost untouched beach.

"This isn't technically on the island, but it's one of the smaller islands surrounding ours that is uninhabited. There's only a few birds and insects here and of course plants."- you chuckle.

"So I thought I'd show you a place I discovered on my own, per se."

"We're completely alone here?"- Hyunjin chuckles and you nod.

"That's it then. This is Hyunjin and y/n's island. No one set foot here or they will be destroyed!"- he says, pointing at the sea with his brows furrowed and lips pursed.

You burst into laughter, smacking his arm in the process.

"Okay king Hyunjin, let's go find a nice spot to sit down and watch the sunrise."- you snicker, linking your arms together.

"Yes, my queen."- he smirks and kisses you as the two of you walk on the beach.

After you find the spot, you take out the blanket and Hyunjin snaps a few photos of the island.

"We could take a walk later?"- he asks and you nod.

"Mhm. After the sun is fully up. There's lots of woods here and I don't wanna get lost in the darkness. I mean, it's always darker amongst the trees."- you say as the two of you sit down.

"Okay, I don't wanna get lost in the woods either. Are you sure there isn't a serial killer hidden somewhere around here?"- Hyunjin adds and you laugh.

"Baby, this isn't a horror story."- you say.

"What kinda story is it?"- he smirks, scooting closer to you and wrapping his arms around you.

"A love story."- you answer.

"I like those kinds of stories the most."- he smiles and kisses you.

"Mhm. Me too."- you mumble against his lips. "Are we watching the sunrise?"- you snicker as he keeps kissing you.

"We are."- he chuckles and pats the space between his legs. "Come here, darling."

You sit between his legs and lean your back on his chest, your head on his shoulder as he wraps his arms around you, and you lay yours on his and play with his fingers, tracing patterns on his skin, fingertips touching the soft hairs on his arm.

He kisses your cheek and jawline gently, holding you tighter.

You watch as the sun rises, bathing the sea and your faces in a golden hue. Hyunjin closes his eyes for a moment, his mind turns the scene into a lovely painting, that the two of you belong in, one that people would admire and wish they'd had a love like you do.

You spend some time in that warm embrace before you move away as the sun moves higher in the sky and you take out some food and coffee.

Sketching together became one of your favorite activities to share and you try to sketch Hyunjin only to end up frustrated because nothing can capture his beauty.

He notices you frowning and huffing to yourself, so he looks up from his sketch of the beach.

"What's wrong, my muse?"- he asks.

"I'm trying to sketch you but you're too beautiful for my poor skills of sketching faces."- you say annoyingly and Hyunjin can't help but laugh.

"You are way more beautiful than me, my sweet flower. My paintbrush could never capture the perfection of you."- his hand cups your cheek and you lean into his touch.

"Sweet talker."- you smirk and he giggles.

"You love that."- he wiggles his eyebrows and you know he's right.

"I love you."- you say making his heart dance again.

"I love you."- he says it sweetly, moving closer to prove it with his kisses.

Your sketchbooks lay forgotten on the side as the two of you lose yourselves in each other, hands roaming everywhere, bodies craving to get closer and closer, lips stuck to one another's.

Hyunjin pulls you into his lap and you feel him under your wet core.

"H-Hyun-" - you whimper as he pushes his hips up into you.

"There's no one here."- he says, his lips relentless on your sensitive neck.

"I know, but-"

"I need you."- Hyunjin whimpers desperately as his hands grip you.

"I need you too."- you cup his face and kiss him passionately.

He slides your dress down to reveal your breasts, kissing them, licking and sucking on your sweet nipples as his hand travels between your legs.

You lift up a little to let him touch you as you throw your head back and moan quietly.

Hyunjin moves your panties to the side, fingers on your wet folds and pressed in to your clit, his movements driving you insane as you grind on his fingers.

As he leans back to look at you, eyes dark and hazy, your hands travel to his pants and you pull them down with his boxers just enough to reveal his hard cock.

You wrap your hand around him, thumbing his slit and playing with the pre-cum, smearing it on his head and down his twitching length.

"Mm, baby."- Hyunjin moans, biting on his lip as he leans on his hands.

You're so desperate to feel him inside you that you can't wait anymore so you lower yourself on him.

"Ah, y/n! So warm and tight."- he whimpers as you clench around him.

"Jinnie... My Jinnie."- you moan, arms wrapping around him, clinging to him as your emotions start wilding inside you, your body and heart burning up only for Hyunjin.

"Yours, only yours."- he holds onto you equally as desperately as you fuck into each other slowly.

You both lose yourselves in the moment, desperate for each other and Hyunjin is going crazy, every single movement brings him immense pleasure.

All the times he wanted to love, but found it hard to do so, with you it was so easy, it was easy to love you and every cell in his being screams your name as he flips you over, making you squeal in surprise.

"J-Jinnie!"

"I can't hold back, my love."- he pushes his cock back inside you and you take it, fitting him so perfectly inside your warmness, shaping around him and making it a home for him, forever only his.

"Don't hold back. Fuck me. Fuck me, Hyunjin."- you burn with desire and his eyes roll back.

"Ah, when you talk like that..."- he growls as he brings your knees up to your shoulders.

He starts pounding into you hard, harder than ever before as brings his whole weight down onto you, his cock hitting the deepest spot inside you where no one else has ever been before.

"Ah, fuck, Hyunjin, ah-" you moan and babble as you grip onto the blanket under you.

"You're mine, flower. Only mine."- he growls as he grabs your breasts, squeezing them and fucking you even harder.

You can't even form a sentence anymore as he fucks you senseless, the only word on your lips is his name.

"I'm gonna worship this pussy forever. It was made for me, made to take my cock."- he says and you whimper loudly.

"H-Hyunjin!"- you moan as you cum around his length, driving him even more insane when you clench around him so wetly and perfectly.

"Shit!"- he groans and pulls out, giving a few tugs to his wet cock and cumming on your breasts and dress.

Hyunjin takes in the erotic sight of you as you come down.

Your legs relax as you breathe hard, eyes filled with tears of pleasure.

Hyunjin catches his breath and his arms are around you instantly.

"Are you okay, my flower? Was I too harsh?"- he asks with concern on his face and you quickly shake your head.

"No, you were perfect."- you say with a smile.

"Yeah? So you liked it rough?"- he smirks and you smack his arm.

"Shut up."- heat rises to your cheeks as you try to hide from his cheeky smile.

"Aw, don't be shy now."- he says as he gently grabs your arms. "You can share what you like with me, I wanna fulfill all your desires, y/n."- he adds, kissing your cheeks.

"Mm. I wanna fulfill all your desires too."- you say.

"You already do."- he smiles and kisses you gently.

"I'm sorry I ruined your pretty dress."- Hyunjin adds when you part.

"It's okay, I can wash it."- you chuckle as he helps you clean up.

After the two of you are clean and dressed, Hyunjin leans on your chest and holds you tightly.

"Play with my hair!"- he whines and you chuckle at him and start running your fingers through his hair.

You enjoy the sweet moment before you decide to get up and round the island, as you walk and hold hands, the beautiful nature around you inspiring your souls and Hyunjin captures you surrounded by it's beauty on his camera.

You come back to the beach and sit once more to eat.

And you finish first, your eyes glued on Hyunjin's pretty frame.

You can't believe this man is yours.

Your hands can't help themselves as you reach out towards him and start caressing his cheek with your knuckles.

He looks at you with a mouthful of sandwich and you laugh.

"Cute."- you pinch his cheek and he whines.

"Is this a black onyx stone?"- your eyes fall to the necklace adorning his neck.

"I have no idea."- he says and you chuckle. "You like it?"

"Mhm, it looks pretty on you."- you say.

"It's gonna look even prettier on you."- he smiles, wiping his hands on a napkin as he's done eating.

"What?"

"I want you to have it."- he unclasps the necklace.

"You don't have to-"

"No, I want to, really. Please, I'm happy to see you wearing my clothes or jewelry."

"Okay."- you smile and lift your hair up so he can put the necklace on you.

"There. Beautiful. What's mine is yours, my flower."- he smiles at you sweetly.

"Likewise."- you smile back.

As you make your way back to the island, bathed in the sun and full of happiness, Hyunjin knows he'll soon have to tell you and burst the bubble the two of you fell into.

He'll have to tell you that he's leaving.

Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @laylasbunbunny @porangporangmeong @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @laughatdanger @lixies-favorite-cookie @linavc @quokkacidal @thisaintredwine @m00gyu @yaorzu-blog @skzfelixlove @tajannah-price1 @puccaaak @aft2rsexs @xxkissesforchanniexx @aprilmaejune77 @lilmeowneow @stayjinnie @astrobebba @danihwang882 @kaysungshine @nchhuhi @1810cl @chartrucewhore @babigriin @jisuperboard @alisonyus @minluvly @instantsoulnight @kkamismom12 @its-stayville-forever @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @lemonadeboun

[exhibit-ayyy-look-at-this-nerd]

rip logan sanders you would've loved avenged sevenfold

rip logan sanders you would’ve loved megan: act ii

[sailorblossoms-rankane]

(Posting my threads on tumblr so I can talk to fellow Akane/Rankane enjoyers, part 3) (manga exclusive, I haven't seen the 80s anime)

One of the first things we learn about Akane is that she’s both violent and sweet. Both are true, and much can be said about her hair journey.

Akane’s violent side is immediately obvious while her sweet side is more apparent along the journey. She’s trusting and caring, even with people who have done nothing but wrong her (a mf will try to kill her and she’ll still be like “I feel sorry for them/I want to help them”)

Her sweet side is also introduced when she meets Ranma. She sees someone uncomfortable in an uncertain/awkward situation, and she’s the first to reach out and be welcoming.

Akane’s haircut is violent, brutal, and shocking. As shocking as Ranma entering her world. It happens during the first real fight Ranma has on page, and it's likely no coincidence. Something is off with long-haired Akane... with the cut, she enters Ranma’s world as her true self.

Akane’s long hair is tied to Akane trying to be like Kasumi: modest, calm, quiet. It’s Akane trying to be someone she’s not, because she wants to feel loved and wanted. If she likes a boy, she wants to be liked back (as opposed to disliked because she’s too "boyish")

When Akane crushes on the doc, that’s a girl used to being bothered and harassed by boys (boys who think “I can beat her into dating me”) fixating on a safe male figure because he makes her feel secure and cared for (literally treating her wounds)

(To contrast: Ranma being stronger isn’t “she must submit to me,” which is what was associated with a boy beating her... it's usually “I’m stronger so I want to look out for her/help her/protect her” and that part makes her feel secure and cared for)

Akane “changing herself” isn’t really about getting the doc to like her, but about Akane feeling judged and inadequate as her true "tomboy self," because even if she cuts her hair short she still likes being feminine… and she’s constantly told she’s not.

Just look at how she dresses. Other female characters might often wear pants (outside of the school uniform, Nabiki usually wears jeans and shorts for example) but Akane is rarely not wearing a cute little skirt or a dress. Calling her uncute pokes at a sore spot.

Changing herself doesn’t give her what she wants, it just reaffirms her insecurity (if you have to stop being yourself to feel accepted, are you really accepted?). When the doc says "short hair always did suit you better," it doesn’t make her happy because she doesn’t actually want him.

Part of why he’s safe is because he knows her just as she is and still never judges when others do. “Short hair always did suit you better" is also “you didn’t need to change yourself to be accepted, you were always fine just as you are.”

This is part of why she cries so hard and why afterward she’s immediately over him… she mourns what she felt and believed (and perhaps the effort it took, growing out a pixie is not for the weak lol) and is ready to turn the page. But the insecurity that sparked it all remains.

That Ranma preferring her short hair makes her smile is an early sign that he stirs something in her. It also says something important: he can tease and insult her all he wants, but he likes Akane just as she is

And that includes her violence. her anger and her fire. When Akane is upset and tries a cooler approach, Ranma won’t let her. he prefers Akane sending his ass flying than her ignoring him 100%

I think Ranma also likes Akane’s "specific brand" of violence, because everyone and their mom is violent here (including Nabiki… psychological violence if you will lol) and outside of challenges/battles he only seeks hers by teasing her, knowing how she’s going to react.

(everyone is a martial artist/violent but I think part of why Akane is clocked as more tomboy-ish is attitude. All the girls will use “their feminine charms,” even Ranma, but Akane will grab a fucker by the shirt, look at them in the eye and jut out her chin, and that's "masculine")

Akane wants to feel normal, she wants to be liked by the one she likes. she associates “you’re not normal” as a negative thing, as “you will be disliked”... even if Ranma means it as “Akane is tougher than a regular girl” (positive) that's not what she hears.

Kasumi means no harm, she knows Akane well and wants to look out for her. but that gives her words more impact, and Akane looks up to her as the ideal of femininity (she also only wears skirts and dresses) (Akane has likely heard this shit a lot too, she was cast as Romeo, etc)

Ranma knows he can be a jerk, but he genuinely doesn’t realize he's saying insensitive shit just when Akane is at her most sensitive... when she snaps, that’s her armor coming up to protect her heart (just like being a jerk can be armor for Ranma)

So Ranma hurts Akane's feelings without realizing (being a jerk is armor because his feelings are too big, too much for him, and he’s not ready to deal with them) but takes Akane's angry response as her hurting his feelings.

This causes the following pattern: Ranma “lifts Akane up,” telling her exactly what she needs to hear from him, soothing her insecurities… and then completely lets her down/disappoints her by telling her exactly what she doesn’t need to hear.

Look at Akane’s face. she could’ve accepted Ranma's apology and moved on. Instead, she’s vulnerable and ready to admit fault too... she’s touched by the idea of Ranma wanting to make up because he wants to be with her (but then he downplays it lol a word-class fumbler fr)

And... he doesn't realize he’s doing this! he doesn’t want to hurt her. whenever he realizes he hurt her he always wants to fix it, even if he doesn’t fully get what he did wrong or why Akane is mad and/or how to make it better.

But “lifting Akane up and then kicking her down” is the type of shit that makes Akane feel like she needs to protect her heart. In a way, Ranma’s armor (jerk) makes Akane’s come up and vice-versa, so neither can give in. It's part of why admitting feelings is very difficult

There’s also Ranma throwing easy “I love you’s” when he thinks it's a challenge with people he has no feelings for, but completely combusts when he realizes he said to the person he’s in love with. It’s too much for him and he’s not ready to admit it, so “he takes it back”

On Akane's side, she isn't unaffected by hearing the boy she loves confess and then "take it back"... even if she can be perceptive and understands Ranma’s shenanigans this sparks more insecurity (and then jealousy)

This contributes to Akane being quick to get angry & misunderstand certain situations, as she’s expecting Ranma to “let her down”/ has no confidence that he doesn’t want anyone else (besides Ranma being in “impossible not to misunderstand situations, for the bit”)

Akane being perceptive but her insecurities getting to her: she knows Ranma. She’s correct in her assessment that he fucked up and is hiding it. But doesn’t clock his deflection because damn, what if he actually wants someone else, what if they have something she doesn’t

But Akane always goes back to believing in him. Because even if he disappoints her, she understands that he's just not thinking, it's his ego, he doesn't mean it, the situation is too much for him to handle etc. And he never stops trying to make sure they’re on good terms.

Also, Ranma makes her feel safe and protected. She likes that he’s strong and never gives up. She knows she can count on him when it matters most (which is why she’s also his ride or die, goes both ways). It’s part of why when she’s jealous, she imagines Ranma protecting Nabiki.

It’s not something she thinks about consciously, but being the one Ranma wants to protect above everyone and all else is part of how Ranma shows his feelings for her, and on some level, she can tell… one of the first moments ranma makes her heart speed up is this

She likes that Ranma protects her and that she can count on him, but she never wants to be a burden or the reason he has to sacrifice something. just like how Ranma wants to protect her above all else, no one goes as far as she does for his sake (see also: the final arc)

Adding on the crush on the doc: just like this scene, it's likely that whenever Akane went to see him, her wounds weren't just physical. "I hate boys" is not something she means as she never treats anyone with hatred, but it's coming from a place of frustration/exhaustion.

Each daily challenge would be annoying by itself, but the repetitiveness of it all would wear her down. Note how she never goes "I hate boys" again after it stops. It's only just "I hate Ranma, specifically" because he hurt her... but she doesn't mean that either

Ranma's presence puts an end to those challenges, so he brings her peace in that sense. His world comes with craziness and dangers, but unlike the school challenges, this is something Akane chooses to face because she wants to support him.

Fighting annoying boys because you don't want to date them and fighting to support a loved one are completely different things. The former wears Akane down, while she's passionate about the latter. Just like how she counts on Ranma to protect her, she always wants to have his back.