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#welcome to the new era of this blog

mikecardenmpreg · 1 year

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all of you are going to be NORMAL about mike carden in the tags when you reblog my posts right? no one's gonna call him a greasy rat man? no one's gonna talk about how much they hate him? no one's gonna accuse him of doing stuff he never did right? RIGHT?????? you're all gonna respect the man the myth the legend mike carden in the tags of MY posts, posts lovingly crafted by me, softmikecarden, RIGHT???????

#🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪#the time of hating on mike carden is over #we are welcoming in a new era of tai... fans #people who speak ill of mike are not allowed to interact with my content and i will block anyone who talks shit about him #(unless it's lovingly)#i have absolutely blocked carden haters in the past and will not hesitate with this resurgence of tai... fans #mike carden lovers on this blog ONLY

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kpop · 24 days

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K-Pop Spotlight: DAY6

Come one, come all to a K-Pop Spotlight that is sure to dazzle and delight ’til the final curtain. This week, all eyes are on DAY6 following the release of their eighth mini-album, Fourever, and brand new title track, "Welcome to the Show." We caught up with the band to discuss their goals as they approach their 10th anniversary and their ever-growing connection to their fans through their music. Check out our full interview below!

Tracks like “Welcome to the Show,” “The Power of Love,” and “Get The Hell Out” seem to have very different themes. Can you tell us a little about how these songs relate to each other and what aspects make this album cohesive?

SUNGJIN: As we pursue the idea of being a 'band that sings every moment,' it seems like our albums, including the recent one, prioritize diversity in songs and situations rather than unity. Consequently, our albums contain various genres and narratives. However, there seems to be a commonality in most songs, depicting situations that everyone has either gone through or might experience.

Young K: First and foremost, I would say this album is a compilation of the best songs we could create. There's definitely a theme of love running through it. "Welcome to the Show," "The Power of Love," and "Get The Hell Out" all talk about the concept of love.

What goes into creating titles for DAY6 songs and albums, especially those that don’t come directly from your lyrics? Do you find it hard to condense the intentions and themes of a song into a title?

Young K: While there have been cases like that, all the songs on this album came from the lyrics. Sometimes, when choosing a title, we select the one that best describes the song—other times, we choose to give it a twist or make it more intriguing.

WONPIL: Naming songs involves a lot of deliberation. We often contemplate which title will catch the eye and capture the song's essence. Usually, we try to take it from a verse in the chorus. This can be a challenging part of the songwriting process.

Is there a creative project you’ve always wanted to work on but haven’t gotten the chance/found the time?

SUNGJIN: I'm very curious, and have a principle of "trying to experience as much as possible." There are so many things I want to try musically and personally, especially among the things I know but haven't tried yet.

DOWOON: I hope we can have a song that we can collaborate on with My Day, like a choir.

What does your work/studio setup look like? Where do you feel the most creatively inspired?

DOWOON: We try to keep the studio as tidy as possible and make it comfortable for practice sessions.

WONPIL: When working on songs, we talk a lot. We get inspiration from little conversations, joking around, sharing stories, and listening to music from various eras regardless of genre while giving opinions. We also try to build emotional connections with the songs. There’s a lot of communication going on. The songwriting process takes place in the studio of our long-time collaborator, composer Hong Jisang, with whom we've been working together since our debut.

How do you want to evolve as a musician/producer?

Young K: I want to be eagerly anticipated and awaited as an artist. Without those who wait for us, we wouldn't release or even step onto the stage. So I’m always thankful for My Day.

WONPIL: My biggest goal is to make good music for My Day and the public, so I think I'll continue to ponder. When working on songs, I pour my sincerity into them. I constantly strive to express this sincerity musically, fully capturing the emotions I want to convey. I hope to create songs that can still be listened to even after 10 or 20 years.

Design your own Tumblr blog: choose an aesthetic, a blog name, and would you be a frequent poster or lurker?

SUNGJIN: I think I’ll use it to catch up on friends' updates. For the blog name, THUMB BLUR sounds good to me. I might end up being a lurker who never posts.

DOWOON: Maybe a blog for plants? I think I'll post it like a diary.

Want more DAY6? Check out their new mini album Fourever and the music video for the title track “Welcome to the Show,” both out now!

#day6 #day6 kpop spotlight #kpop spotlight

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landograndprix · 7 months

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「Mini me, mini you? ๛ l.n || c.l」

part ix - ending 1

✧.* a little surprise becomes a welcome surprise and life does get better.

✧.* ending one! there will be one part after this to finish it off completelyl this is a psa for the people who wanted to be on my taglist but never got tagged, i didn't forget or ignore you, I simply am unable to tag you and therefore removed you from the list since it's a mess to tag that many people when half of it doesn't work, hope you understand! Some people are tagged in the comments, I can only tag 50 peeps in a post. Love ya ❤️

✧.* prev part - next part

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𝟐 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

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y/nusername

liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell and 229,782 others

y/nusername the goodest boy(s) 🧡

tagged: landonorris

view all 421 comments

hannahh I would die for Benji 🥺

norry4 so this is basically saying they're back together..right? (In my delulu era ✌)

maxfewtrell the best norris there is

landonorris are we talking about me or my son?

maxfewtrell since when are you the best norris there is? You never were mate..

hamilt44n hello, is Benji looking for a sister? I'm putting myself up for adoption..just so you know..I'm nice and will do the dishes...please..

norrizz I just know this dog is living his best life 😭

carlandooo I need a Benji in my life and a lando..and a y/n..

sharl16 good news guys, I'm still obsessed with this little icon

landonorris what a little lad ❤️

y/nusername love of my life actually but okay

chilisainz you've been booted to p2 my dude 😂

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y/nusername

liked by carlossainz55, riabish and 278,656 others

y/nusername 💙👶🏻

tagged: landonorris

view all 527 comments

julieeeexo oh my fucking god lando's gonna beba dilf?!😭

norrizz I called it! I told y'all!

zhou_ey stop it, Benji looks so proud to be a big brother 😭

carlossainz55 congratulations guys, you'll name him Carlos no?

landonorris not a chance mate..

carlossainz55 very disappointed

landoscar OMG OMG OMG

maxfewtrell you're going to tell me there's going to be two of lando in a couple weeks?

charlos16 WEEKS?

norrislando4 a lot of us have been saying she's been pregnant for a while so I guess were right? 😭

hamilt44n my parents becoming actual parents and they're getting a lil dude? Life is beautiful 😢

landonorris 💙💙💙

landooofour congrats on becoming a dilf my dude!

charles_leclerc congrats you guys!

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y/nusername posted to their story

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Everything taglist; @thomaslefteyebrow @hopefulinlove @smoothopz @softboystarkey @buffysummrsx @honethatty12 @cixrosie @parkersmjs

Mini me taglist: @myloverjk-blog @allywthsr @myescapefromthislife @justdreamersdream @celestialams @ihrtdan @sunnytkm23 @yunnie-f1 @stevesworld9 @azxulaa @raizelchrysanderoctavius @leclercdream @opchelia @ssararuffoni @mqcherie @c-tangerine @au-ghosttype @changetyre @elijahslover @roseseraj @luciaexcorvus @evans-dejong @rinhvnt @champomiel @ohyoureaqueenbutuncrowned @hearts4joao @escapism-writer @eugene-emt-roe @bb-swift @christianpulisic10 @bladestark @ayoana @greigreyhiyyih @f1mockingjay @ironmaiden1313 @enhacolor @loxbbg @babyvinnie @wibi96 @celesteblack08

Lando taglist: @beatricemiruna @simp-for-fictional-people

#lando norris x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x you #charles leclerc x you #lando norris x y/n #charles leclerc x y/n #lando norris fanfic #charles leclerc fanfic #lando norris smau #charles leclerc smau #f1 x reader #f1 driver x you

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paintdoktahwho · 4 months

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just a reminder: ideally i would like to hand this blog over to a new artist (or artists) who want to create a new era of silly doctor who comics. obviously submissions, as always, are welcome, but if anyone has love in their heart and a stylus in their hand and loves doctor who, hit me up.

#doctor who #dw #fanart #ncuti gatwa

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eydi-andrius · 9 months

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Clear Lilac Eyes (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

summary: Aemond had bowed and prayed, something he had never done before no matter how hard his life had been.

cw/tw: fluff, a bit of angst and hurt, aemond is a good husband, a dad and a king, childbirth, blood, implied war, patriarchy, threats, mentions of violence, threats and tags are not exhausted. Let me know if I miss anything

a/n: Wrote this as an alternate ending for Don't Get Sad, Get Even but I thought it was too positive so I wrote it as a standalone.

Also, I posted this as a celebration as my blog turned THREE (3) today! YAY! 🎉🥳 Mannnnn, I used to be a lurker on this app then I started craving for my whatifs then wrote them. To celebrate, I will post for all the characters I have written so far and it includes this one. And maybe I have something in store for the others. 👀 A much awaited comeback hehehehehe if you have any request, you may send me an ask! 🥰 I may write them. 👀 Anyway, without further ado, ENJOY!

Likes and reblogs are welcome!

💚

There was an air of uneasiness that chokes out the life of those who breathe it in. The flicker of fire from the torches and the quiet of the hallways made an eerie atmosphere in the Red Keep.

The shadows, the footfalls and the swish of clothings intensifies the feeling of distress in every mortal present at the birth of the King's child.

This was an important event for the realm as this child may become the first heir to this new era of dragons.

All the dragon-blood and silver-haired were almost wiped during the dance of dragons which happened for only a year.

Except for one.

With his wit and strategy, Aemond Targaryen was able to win the war and was crowned king.

He was vicious and no one could deny him of his throne. Once the swords were down and the white flags were raised, all heads bowed to him.

However, right now, the King's head was bowed to only one, the Mother. The Goddess of Birth.

While the realm was weary for his heir, he was scared to lose the love of his life.

She had always expressed her fear of giving birth. When they were young, she had said to him that if she had a choice, she would rather not give birth. During that time, he thought it was silly. No one can run from their purpose. Especially her, whose sole purpose was to continue her family's lineage. She was a noble and a girl. There was no way for her to continue life without giving birth.

Another blood curdling scream broke from her inside the room. It was loud. Terrifyingly loud. His gut twisted in fear. He had promised her not to enter the chambers while she gives birth but something was egging him on to force his way inside and to stay by her side.

The room was filled with the familiar sweet metallic scent of blood. He had grown accustomed to it on the battlefield and never once the sight repulsed him. However, the white sheets and the white clothes worn by the maester and midwives were all covered in blood. Her blood. There was too much blood around her. The sickening feeling swirling inside of him tore new fear as he rushed forward and watched her delicate face, pale and deathly. Her lips dry and her hands cold to the tips.

"My Lady wife, look at me, my dear. I beg of you " He watched her closely as her eyes fluttered softly at the sound of his voice. She looked at him and tried her best to give a smile but the look of it made him regret forcing her to go through the pain of giving birth. She slowly opened her eyes and looked at him before it closed with a deep sigh. He squeezed her cold hands with worry - he prayed that the Mother will show his wife mercy, as she did to all the mothers who had gone through similar pain.

A tiny scream of life caught his attention. He looked behind him and there it was, his child. He never saw that she had finally given birth and was blinded with worry as he rushed in. His small bundle of joy was wrapped in the familiar green and gold linen his mother used for him when he was born. His pride and joy finally came and his heart was filled with unfamiliar warmth. He had never felt like this before.

Without removing his hand that held his wife, he asked the maester to help him place his little dragon on his free arm. The silver protruding hairs on his head had proven he was his child. He looks so small, so full of life as it cries and he shushes him. He had never felt more at ease as he was surrounded with his family. The family he chooses and who chooses him. His love for them runs deeply and he could never express how grateful he was for them.

"It is a girl." The sound of the maester's voice brought him back to where he was sitting and he looked at him. The maester's face did not hide his disappointment but he will forgive him for now.

A girl?

A smile broke through him and he apologized inside his head to his daughter as he called her wrong. With a gesture of love, he placed his nose on top of hers and his heart was full as he heard her stop crying and coo at him.

He was overfilled with happiness. It feels like nothing could go wrong.

However, his joy was short-lived when he felt his wife's hand loosen its grip to his. He had now realized her palm was colder, almost like ice. His head whipped in her direction and he saw the familiar feeling of impending death.

No. Please. Not her either.

The wrong feeling in his gut came back again and he ordered the maester to help his wife. They rushed forward and he stepped back as he cradled the child, who was now peacefully sleeping on his arm. She must have been tired as she forced her way out to this world. She was so innocent and pure that she did not realize the terror that was eating away at his father's core.

He had watched them closely as they tried their best to bring his lady wife back to life. She looks so small, and fragile. He was afraid that they would break her as they moved back and forth to revive her.

The wet nurse of his child had asked and begged him to go out but he refused to do so and did not leave the room until the maester had told him that his wife was safe from harm. No one could tell when she would wake up but he was relieved that she could recover now.

At last, he had entrusted his child to her caretaker and asked the others to leave them be. Him alone with his wife. He waited for the sound of the door closing, before he broke down. With shaking limbs and eyes blurry with tears, he cried and kissed her hand.

He apologized for what he had put her through. He apologized for what she had to witness.

He apologized for exposing her to violence.

He apologized and apologized until there wasn't anything he could say to her.

If the life of his wife would be the retribution for his sins then he would never forgive himself.

That night, on his knees, he prayed and prayed for her to get better until there were no words he could utter to the Mother.

💚

Three days had passed and she was still asleep. He had smiled at her sleeping form as he recalled his interaction he had with his daughter. She was fussy and loud, just like her mother. He knew she would grow up with her mother's tenacity and boldness.

Ignoring her pale face and thin body, he bit the inside of his cheek and continued his story. This was worse than war. Sitting beside her and watching as she fights for her life. Waiting and not being able to help her. He hoped that his stories would make her feel strong.

He never liked the idea of her missing the growth of their child. He knew her better and this will make her sad. She had expressed that she had always wished for her mother to see her grow when she was young but she died too early for her to even remember her face, which people had claimed that they looked quite a lot like each others'.

He could never deny that there is no moment that he never missed her. Every inch and corner of Red Keep reminds him of her. Half of his life was him being with her. He wanted each and every waking moment of his was to be with her.

Swallowing his selfishness and pride, again, he prayed for her to get well and wake up soon. He bargained to all of the Gods that he will do anything and pay for it in his power to make it come true.

💚

The council room was obnoxiously loud. He watched them quietly like a hunter, staring down its prey.

If he had the choice, he would be with his daughter and wife. But alas, he had to create a strong foundation for this new nation for his lovely daughter. He had to muster all the patience he had to stay still and listen to them.

After the discussion about the trade and economy, suddenly, all the old men present looked at him warily. Even without them uttering a word, he knew what they would tell him.

A searing hot anger rises through him but he feels calm. Calm enough to not hesitate to stab and kill with ease, just like what he did during the war. Or maybe he could ask Vhagar to bite them off in half or burn them alive.

"Congratulations on having a girl, your grace. How was she?" He forgot that man's name but he believed the one who first opened his mouth was a Baratheon.

"My girl was doing well." He replied curt and short.

He saw how some of the men gulped in nervousness at the sound of his voice. He intended for them to feel the venom and challenge them to continue so he can cut their tongue. They looked nervous and fear was all over their features. Only Larys and Cregan, looked somewhat calm and remained quiet.

"We're happy to h-hear that." The Baratheon continued with eyes wandering around his allies, like a helpless sheep waiting to be slaughtered. Aemond moved back and leaned on his chair, he wanted to see them all on a better view. He lay his head to his hand as he stared them down.

The silence was loud as everyone stayed seated and waited for each other. No one dares to. They were afraid. Aemond, the King, was ruthless. They knew bloodshed would be inevitable if they opened their mouths to speak about the dying Queen and the King having no heir after she gave birth to a daughter.

Each one prefers their head intact, except for one. Or maybe the wise old folk of the North had better places to be and so he started the conversation with a tired sigh.

"I thought you have something to say about the Queen, boy." He looked at the young Baratheon who was seated across him with emotionless eyes.

The Baratheon stared at Cregan and the air shifted. The old wolf calling his name had given him confidence to open his mouth and talk about the real reason why this council meeting was held in the first place.

"Your grace, as much as we all pray for the Queen to get better. Please understand that we talk about this with the clearest intention in mind. After what happened to the Queen and the uncertainty of her health, we believed that it would be better to take another wife…..for the sake of our budding kingdom. In that way, we could secure an heir." He spoke with an air of superiority. As if he truly knew what he was talking about.

Aemond stared at the man. He doesn't know how long it was but he just looked at him. The silence was uncomfortable and some of the gentlemen in front of him looked nervous as they waited for him to speak.

"Y-your grace?" After some time, the Baratheon spoke again.

He breathed in and finally, with an intense stare at the fool in front of him, he spoke with a neutral chilling tone.

"Did you know how the war started in the first place, boy?" He tipped his head and waited for an answer.

Not knowing what to reply, the Baratheon boy blinked and looked around for help. But when no one could give him an answer he replied, confused.

"Your grace?"

"When my beloved lady wife was almost dying from childbirth, I suddenly remembered how and why we were all here. Why thousands of lives were lost. Why did dragons almost die and were wiped out?" He said with a menacing smirk.

"You see, it started on this very council. Who were greedy for power to have the dragon blood on their lineage. To have their blood on the throne. And a foolish king who wore his heart on his sleeves. Those greedy old men pretended to truly care for him by using the memory of his wife and in the end feasted on his heart, voraciously. "He was way too lenient for his own good and once he realized he was being used, it was too late to change anything." My mother once told me.

And I — I always saw my father as someone who swims along the current because he trusts way too easily, not knowing that there were sharp rocks waiting for him at the end. Even if I knew he wouldn't give me the love of a father as he should, I respect him for being the king. I believed he did his best to be a good one and a fair father to us. It doesn't mean it was enough though."

Aemond stared from afar as he recalled how he envied his sister. How she got all the love they deserved to have too. It was never their fault to be treated that way and so he blamed all of it on her. But after the war and during the time his wife had suffered the similar fate of the former Queen, he realized how lonely his father might have felt. He realized how his sister might have suffered from being a girl. It was a strong slap on his face as he sat in the middle of this council and watched how these men didn't care about what he had to endure and how the life of his wife was the only reason why he was keeping sane. They will never understand, never.

"Your grace, w-we cannot understand-"

"Of course you wouldn't. None of you would." He cut him off before he could continue to rebuke him.

"If the Queen dies right after this meeting, those who had agreed to have me married for another one would be beheaded for treason. If she did not survive even though her body has been doing well for days, I will treat her death as intentional from all of you. Speak again of her that way, head will roll, and blood will soak the iron throne. The only reason why you do not have a mad King, who craves death, was because of her."

He stood up and did not care with the way the men yelled in unison of their protest against what he said. The only ones who stayed seated were Larys and Cregan, who both shook their heads. He did not care if they agreed with him. His wife will not die and he will protect her even if it means he has to be a Mad King.

💚

He stayed seated beside her, just like what he has been doing these days.

He chooses to be with her at night. He cannot stand to sleep in their room without her. It feels empty and cold.

The barren room, even though filled with gold and riches, feels like another room in a gloomy castle.

Each night, he stayed with her. Talk to her until he falls asleep on her side. He will either hold her hand or weave his hand through her hair, to soothe her. Sometimes, he even sings to her in High Valyrian, hoping that she will hear him and finally open her eyes. She always tells him she loves his voice when he speaks his native tongue.

He waited and waited but it seems like today was like any other night. She needed a whole day of sleep to recuperate. He slowly closed his eyes after he kissed her goodnight. And prayed again that tomorrow, is the day she will smile at him again.

A caress…

He cannot help but smile at the soft feathery caress on his face. It reminds him so much of how she wakes him up in the morning. What a beautiful dream..

A dream…

He frowned when he realized it was just a dream. She was still asleep and sick. And with his brows knit together, he relinquished the soft touch of fingers on his face. It feels familiar and welcoming.

Just a bit more, he wanted to feel that she's with him.

He was slowly going back to sleep, after what happened today, he seemed tired than usual, and it did not take long as the sleep tugged him back again when a tap jolted him awake.

Even though the war ended a long time ago, his senses were still heightened and he was glad he wasn't wearing his sword or so he probably would have killed whoever forcefully woke him up.

A smile….

He stared, mouth agape, when he saw you giving him a tired smile. He blinked and then, he panicked as he rushed forward at you, careful not to hurt you with his weight.

"My love.." He said with so much worry in his voice. He was feeling the tears threatening to come out of his eyes as he gazed at her pale face and dry lips. He doesn't even know how he will touch her. A moment of hesitation, his hands stopped midair as he panics that he might break her. What if he hurt her unintentionally and she fell asleep again?

He watched her as she tried to move her mouth but failed. She swallowed and tried again. This time he went to where the water and cup was placed and he helped her up to drink. She was thirsty and her mouth is probably dry from being asleep for a long time. Aemond calm yourself! She needed you more than now.

Once done, he carefully assisted her to lean on the headboard and she sighed with relief.

He was just looking at her. And she was looking back at him. It took a while, the staring, until his face contorted with relief and then, he cried. He was shaking as he held her hand. She felt her fragile hands weave through his hair as she shushed him. He knew she was smiling. Glad to be back on his arms.

He never felt so relieved and so thankful.

All his life the people, his loved ones and even the gods did not like him.

No matter how much he tried his best. No matter how much he was better he will never be chosen for he was only a second son. He was there as a safety but never the one.

But you choose him. And never did your love wavered.

He never felt so hopeless when you were in pain and bedridden.

He never felt so useless despite doing his best to be the strongest for his family.

It was the first time he felt so inadequate and weak. That he gave all of his strength to kneel and pray for you whenever he could. He begged and promised that he would do anything in his power just so he could have you back.

And now, crying in your middle like a child, as you held him as tight as he did, he prayed for gratefulness.

💚

A week after you woke up, you are still not strong enough to walk outside.

You relinquished the sun on your window and watched as Aemond carried and sways your daughter.

You have a feeling that the reason why he was able to be in your room, as much as he could, was because he threatened the nobles every time they tried to stop him. You tried to talk to him once, compromising that he doesn't have to be with you, almost the whole day, but he shrugged and rolled his eyes, stating that he would rather be with his wife than be surrounded by men.

Aemond can be stubborn but he never runs from his obligations so this was truly new for you.

You giggled as you watched your lord husband's eyes widen from surprise. He was teasing your daughter by placing his finger in her small palm, when she closed and squeezed him tight, never letting go. His eyes softened when she cooed at him.

He looks so different from when they call him the one-eyed prince for being vicious and fearsome. You were truly loved by the gods for witnessing this interaction and being one of the centers of his affection.

"I will make her my heir." He said with a plain voice, as if he was asking you how you were.

"My love?" You frowned, confused. You have witnessed Rhaenyra being crowned heir and how the war started from there. What is going on?

"I will change the law to make the eldest an heir. No matter what gender they may be, they will be given the same education and treatment, fit as the next ruler. If the nobles disagree, not that I care about them, I will also add that a female heir and noble will always have a noble child. Compared to a prince, a boy, the one she would carry will have noble blood in their veins. I will use my life, my reign to establish this. My daughter will be heir and no man, no noble, will be able to take that from her." The initial worry and confusion you felt from earlier vanished, as you watched him share his plan with the softest eyes. The setting sun at the window, creating a soft silhouette of him carrying his daughter. He loves her more than the throne. Something you have never witnessed before.

It warms your heart and you never thought you would fall deeper in love with him this much in this lifetime. You will forever be happy that he chose you.

"My love…..you always prove to me why I choose you every single waking moment of my life." Without thinking you opened your mouth and spoke the words that always lingered in your end.

Surprised, he stared at you and then, he smiled in awe. You don't even need him to speak for you to know that his eyes and soften feature was him telling you that he loves you.

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davekatweek · 8 months

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Announcing DAVEKAT WEEK 2023 running from September 17th to September 23rd!

Davekat week is an annual event with the purpose of celebrating and creating content (be it drawings, music, fanfic, crafts, etc.) around the fictional pairing between Dave Strider and Karkat Vantas, each day of the week encouraging a unique theme for your art!

DAY 1

Sunday, September 17th: CANON (Whether it be a panel redraw or filling in the gaps between interactions, reimagine a moment from the comic!)

DAY 2

Monday, September 18th: FANON (Give us all your favorite headcanons, tropes, cliches! Feel free to be cringe and free <3)

DAY 3

Tuesday, September 19th: QUADRANTS (What it says on the tin, explore all the different quadrant dynamics these two encapsulate!)

DAY 4

Wednesday, September 20th: FREE DAY (Do whatever you want forever!)

DAY 5

Thursday, September 21st: CROSSOVER (Got several different interests taking up space in your brain? Smash em together and make it davekat somehow!)

DAY 6

Friday, September 22nd: ENDINGS (This could be your designated sadstuck day, or just mean the end of an era. Any interpretation goes!)

DAY 7

Saturday, September 23rd: BEGINNINGS (Are they starting a new chapter in their lives, or are we taking it back to where it all started? You decide!)'

♥️♠️♦️♣️♥️♠️♦️♣️♥️♠️♦️♣️♥️♠️♦️♣️♥️♠️♦️♣️♥️♠️♦️♣️♥️♠️♦️♣️♥️♠️♦️♣️♥️♠️♦️♣️♥️♠️♦️♣️♥️♠️♦️♣️♥️♠️♦️♣️♥️♠️♦️♣️

Themes are encouraged, but optional. You're more than welcome to post whatever you like, whichever day you like, and even after the initial event. We want to see your creations!

Whatever you decide to make, tag your posts with #davekatweek and #davekatweek2023 and @ this blog for a share! I'll be checking the tag and reblogging posts through the day, if you think I missed your contribution please send a message to @buzzingroyalty.

Super excited to see what you all come up with, see you then!

#homestuck #davekat #davekatweek #davekatweek2023 #davekat week #davekat week 2023 #dave strider #karkat vantas #long post

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luvrrgirl444 · 4 months

Text

chapter 22: rockstar gf era

liked by sashluvsfood, historiareiss & 256,800 others

👤 theroses

planetyn officially in my rockstar gf era

comments

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liked by lifearlert, planetyn & 129,330 others

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comments

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liked by conman69, lifearlert & 87,290 others

👤 mikasackerman

sashluvsfood stole her hat so she stole my bed :(

comments

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- how do we feel about mikasasha..

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moni-logues · 7 months

Text

Across a Crowded Room

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Strangers-to-lovers, idolverse, smut

Word count: 10.7k

Summary: Dissatisfied and uncomfortable at a party where you don’t belong, in a country where you feel like you don’t belong, you see a man looking at you from across the room. Maybe he’s what you’ve been missing.

Content: alcohol consumption, fingering, oral (f. receiving), protected sex, multiple orgasms, I guess slight exhibitionism since it all happens up against a window lmao

A/N: Ok, so I 1000000% thought I had re-posted this here already?? but Lia has informed me that I have not and since I got a nice message about it on the old blog, I figured now's as good a time as any to repost!! The start of this fic is literally the first writing I had done for over a decade. I started writing even before I had a writing blog. Then the rest of it was written... last November? ish? idk. anyway, I read this myself the other day and it's alright! ETA: LOL, you can tell it's old because it's written in present tense LMAO

* * *

You tug self-consciously at the hem of your dress; it’s a little too short for your liking, but Hanjae likes you in K-style clothes and, once you’re there, it’ll be fine. It’s always a little nerve-wracking the thought of going to a party where you hardly know anyone, but it always turns out fine. Fun, even. Positive thinking. You sigh and inhale deeply before leaving your apartment and heading down to the car he’s sent for you.

When you first met, you were both taken with each other. He was intrigued by your foreignness and enchanted by your clumsy negotiations in a foreign culture; you were reassured by his confidence and excited by the access he had to hitherto hidden worlds of luxury and indulgence. He wasn’t rolling with Elon Musk or anything (and you’d have had nothing to do with him if he were), but he lived with an ease and security that you yearned for. Which, you suppose, is why you’re still letting him parade you around at parties like this.

It was fun at first. You liked the attention – who wouldn’t? Instead of feeling freakish and out of place, you felt interesting and cherished for your differences. You felt like they were laughing with you when you told funny, embarrassing stories of when you’d got it wrong, or how you do things back home. It felt like people were fascinated by you and you were warmed by their curiosity. You didn’t mind when they reached out to touch your tattoos or asked personal questions, because they didn’t mean any harm. Hanjae gave you a social life that you hadn’t quite managed to create for yourself in this new place and got you out of your apartment, out of your comfort zone, and you clung to that.

Recently, though, you’ve been feeling different. When you show up to parties with him and see his friends you’ve met before, they’re surprised you’re still around. They joke to your face that they would’ve expected Hanjae to have moved on by now. They ask what his parents think (but you have never been introduced to them). They’re not so charmed by you anymore. These friends barely spare you a second thought once they’ve registered their surprise and the attentions of new friends aren’t as welcome as they once were. You started feeling uncomfortable with the way Hanjae paraded you around a couple of weeks ago and now, you’re frankly sick to your stomach. When people reach out to touch you, you flinch away; you don’t tell funny, embarrassing stories because you feel like you’re being laughed at; you stay quiet, for the most part, because your Korean is still not very good and, when they correct you or laugh at your mistakes, you don’t feel like they’re doing it kindly. Standing, mute, next to Hanjae while he laughs and drinks makes you feel like an object, a trophy, an oddity. If Hanjae were a Victorian-era Englishman travelling to the ends of the Earth to ransack a foreign place and bring home stolen goods, you were the buried necklace of an Aztec noblewoman he would give to the eligible girl in the manor house whose hand he is trying to win. He is showing you off because other people are impressed, but you no longer get the feeling that he is.

You hand over your phone and lip balm to Hanjae when you meet him outside the venue; this became a habit early on, so you wouldn’t have to hold a bag and he was happy to keep them in his pockets. Now, it feels a little bit like handing over your freedom.

“Cheer up!” he says as you lean back in your seat. “This’ll be fun, won’t it?” He smiles at you and tucks your hair behind your ear. He’s not a bad guy. He really isn’t. You’re not entirely sure if he even realises what he’s doing with you, if he knows that he doesn’t really like you but the idea of you, if he knows that there’s no future with you, if he’s realised that this relationship is rapidly approaching its expiry date. He’s been extremely good to you and you owe it to him to try. However much you want it to end, you don’t want it to end badly and you don’t want to hurt him; there’s no need for that.

You walk into the party amongst a sea of black suits. You scan the crowd, looking for other women you can compare your outfit to. A terrible thing to do, you know, but your insecurity needs reassurance that you’re dressed appropriately for this event. Hanjae is already leading you over to his friends, two of whom have brought their girlfriends, who are dressed in outfits similar to yours, so that’s something at least. You greet them brightly and Hanjae hands you a drink before launching into a conversation you can’t quite follow. That’s the other thing about these parties; they’re so loud, even if everyone were speaking English, you’re not sure you’d be able to hear them properly, so you hardly stand a chance in Korean. You’ve improved dramatically and can get by in your day-to-day life, but you don’t feel like you’re good enough yet to have a proper conversation, to really talk to anyone. It’s quite a lonely feeling and another reason you’ve spent so much time with Hanjae: he speaks fluent English; although he uses it less and less often these days and he gets more impatient when you need things repeating. You suppose it must be difficult for him, too, having to use a second language so much.

You gaze around the room, looking at nothing in particular. You sip your drink and wonder what everyone else is thinking about. You barely notice the looks you get anymore – most of them are meaningless anyway and people pass their eyes over you before turning back to their friends – but out of the corner of your eye, you see someone looking at you. You don’t recognise him, but you’ve never been very good with faces and the lighting is weird here. You raise your glass and nod slightly; even if you don’t know him, it’s nice to be polite. He looks a little flustered that you’ve noticed and quickly looks away, and then back again and raises his glass a little before turning and walking away. You smile, what a cutie.

Your glass is empty and your feet hurt from standing still for so long, so you tell Hanjae you’re going to get another drink. He asks you to get him a whiskey, so you traipse to the bar and order. You hand the drink to Hanjae without a word and wander off; there must be somewhere to sit in this place.

The main room is cavernous and you’re worried there will be no open doors to anywhere else. There is a small group of tables in one corner, but they are all already occupied. You look around as you walk, and suddenly bump into someone.

“Oh, so-“, you start to say, but you realise it isn’t someone; it is a mirror. The whole back wall is mirrored. For a moment, you are completely disoriented and slightly embarrassed, but as you edge along the mirror, you realise that the wall doesn’t reach the other side and the room continues beyond it. As you cross behind the mirror, the din of music and voices is subdued significantly. There’s another partial wall from the other side as though the room is zig-zagging. You’re wary of going too far, but the increasing quiet is soothing. You turn another corner and there’s a bench opposite a large staircase. You immediately sit down along its length and lift your feet. You wonder what the time is and how much more of it you’ll have to kill before you can go home. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, reminding yourself that Hanjae is a good man and you are very fortunate and suffering from very glamorous problems. A few months ago, you’d have given an arm and a leg to be at a party like this. Be careful what you wish for, you think to yourself.

As you fidget on the bench, you realise you are not alone. There is a man coming down the stairs. You take your feet off the bench and try to look like you’re doing something (what? What could you be doing? There is absolutely nothing to occupy you here!); you settle for just looking awkward. You nod your head and raise a hand as he reaches the bottom.

“Are you ok?” he asks. His hesitance reminds you of someone and you realise with a flash that he is the man who was looking at you earlier.

You clear your throat.

“네. 괜찮아요. 감사합니다,” you answer falteringly, embarrassed at having been caught hiding out. You rise to leave.

“오, 정말요? ……………?”

You don’t understand the second half of what he said and you curse yourself for having answered in Korean; if you’d just spoken English and pretended you didn’t know any Korean at all, this would’ve been much simpler!

“Sorry, I didn’t understand,” you tell him. “갈게요.”

“No, wait,” he cries, with more force than he intended. “You don’t have to leave.” He gestures to the bench. “I was also looking for somewhere quiet.”

He speaks shyly and you assume he doesn’t have much practice at speaking English and don’t have the energy for locking you both into a conversation where neither of you can quite understand the other. On the other hand, it would feel rude to just walk away now. You stand, not leaving but not quite staying, both of you trapped in an awkward moment that seems to last forever.

“You can leave if you want,” he says, finally. “I am going to stay.” He sits on the bottom step and takes a sip from his drink. “It’s ok, we don’t have to talk- but I can speak English a little bit if you want.”

You slowly return to the bench and sit down. You feel like you should say something, but your mind is blank. It’s like you’ve never had a conversation before in your life; what do people say? Does he even want you to say something? Why was he staring at you earlier? In the same way that everyone else always does or was there a specific reason? You feel your hands start to sweat and you inwardly roll your eyes at yourself and tell yourself to get a grip, literally nothing is happening.

He is looking out of the window and you are staring into the corner on the opposite side; you each take glances at one another, praying the other doesn’t notice. You can still hear the music from the party, quiet in the background, and you wonder if Hanjae has noticed your absence yet; you expect not. You glance at the man opposite you and catch his eye. You both chuckle awkwardly.

“I’m ________,” you say.

“Jungkook,” he answers.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jungkook.”

“I saw you earlier; I didn’t think we’d met before.”

“No, I’m not really invited to these things,” you explain. “I just tag along with my b-,“ you stop, the word ‘boyfriend’ weighing heavily on your tongue.

“Who’s your boyfriend?”

Dammit.

“Uh, Kim Hanjae?”

“Ah… Don’t know him.”

“He’s…” How on earth did you get to this subject so quickly? Do you really want to talk about Hanjae to this random man? More to the point, does this random man want to hear about your boyfriend and how you actually don’t want him to be your boyfriend anymore? Doubtful. “He’s nice,” you finish, lamely.

“Just don’t like parties?”

Part of you wishes you had just left when you had the chance. Then you realise how ridiculously you’re behaving; hating the party because no one will talk to you and, now, as soon as someone starts, you want to leave. ‘Get a grip, girl,’ you say to yourself.

“I like parties,” you answer, “but it’s-… I’m-… This-…” You pause as you try to work out how to give an honest answer that isn’t simultaneously dumping all your crap onto him. “These are all his friends; I don’t really know anyone here.”

He nods.

“I have a different problem: everyone knows me and wants to talk to me all the time.” He laughs. “I don’t like big parties. They’re… so much… too much.”

You nod. The two of you lapse into silence again, but it’s more comfortable this time. You’ve broken the ice a little. He seems nice and you feel a pang of sympathy for him: to be a big deal at parties like this sounds exhausting, especially if you don’t even like parties to start with. No wonder he’s hiding out with you.

“It’s hard for me to talk to people at these things,” you tell him. “My Korean isn’t very good and Hanjae doesn’t like speaking English when we’re with his friends because some of them don’t speak it.”

“I think your Korean sounds good.”

You laugh; that was a sweet thing to say given that he’s heard you say all of three words.

“It’s ok, but we couldn’t have this conversation in Korean. Sorry.” You smile weakly and feel pathetic; you knew it would be a process, moving to a new country and learning the language as you go, but you weren’t prepared for how embarrassed and ashamed you would feel all the time about your failings.

“Don’t be sorry!” He grins at you. “I can try my English! But, actually, it is not very good either. Sorry.”

You laugh again. Koreans and their modesty; his English sounds just fine from where you’re sitting.

“Did you move here recently?” he asks.

“About four months ago,” you answer. “I was… looking for something new, I guess. I don’t know… I needed new horizons, new experiences.”

“And how do you think about it now you’re here?”

You wonder if he knows what a loaded question that is. You exhale with a huff. Where to begin?

“It’s been harder than I thought it would be,” you tell him. “I feel very… different. Being looked at so much is not something I was used to… I think Hanjae likes it, but it’s awkward for me. I feel like…”

“An object.”

Your eyes meet and your chest is flooded with the warmth of familiarity. He’ll understand, won’t he?

“When we met,” you start, looking away self-consciously, “he was charmed by my foreignness, y’know? And he liked how different I looked and found it cute when I made mistakes in Korean and didn’t know things. It gave him clout, y’know? Dating a foreigner? I was spoilt by it, the attention; I thought it was for me and when he bought me dresses and took me to parties to show me off, I thought it was because I was special, not just because I was foreign. I loved it at the start.

“I think the appeal is wearing off, though,” you continue, stealing a quick glance to gauge his reaction. He’s looking at you patiently, intently, concentrating, probably, on understanding what you’re saying. “He gets annoyed sometimes now when I don’t know things and-“

You tell him everything. Once you start, you find you can’t stop. You don’t know whether to be angry or sad about it, so you vacillate between the two. Jungkook listens, never interrupts; he drinks and nods and keeps looking at you with those huge brown eyes.

“I know it’s over,” you say, resolute. “I just-” you realise it as you say it, “I’m scared that I won’t have anything if I don’t have him.”

He looks at you thoughtfully for a moment.

“But you met him in Korea, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, you still have the person who moved all the way here to start a new life; that seems like a lot to me.”

For a split second, you don’t know whether to burst into tears or fling your arms around him and give him a kiss. ‘Is he looking at me,’ you wonder ‘or staring into my soul?’. You feel seen, seen for the first time in months. You decide then and there that you would walk on hot coals for this man; he’s got you whether he wants you or not. His kindness streams out from him like rays of the sun from behind clouds. Such a bright, young thing, hiding in the dark.

“What about you?” You ask. “You’re hiding back here, too.”

“Ah.” He finishes his drink and places the glass next to him on the step. “I prefer quiet places. I like to keep things small and…-”

“Intimate?”

You blush furiously as he looks at you. That isn’t what you meant and you’re not sure how he’s taken it.

“Yeah, intimate. Big crowds are not my thing.”

“Not when they forget that you’re a person, first.”

He nods.

You stand and move to look out of the window, closer to him. He rises, too, and stands next to you. Your arm is a hair’s breadth from him; you daren’t move.

“Do you like the view?” he asks.

“Actually, I don’t really like a cityscape. I prefer country views.”

“What are the views like where you’re from?”

No one has asked you about home like that. They ask for funny differences between here and there or ask you to debunk or confirm stereotypes, but no one has really cared what you actually think. You smile, picturing in your mind’s eye cloudy, wind-swept beaches, rolling hills, pier arcades, church spires and so much green. You tell him everything. You turn your back to Seoul and, leaning against the glass, describe the house you grew up in and where your grandparents used to live; you describe the places you took holidays when you were a kid and the specific smell of the sea that isn’t the same anywhere else in the world. He’s been to your home country before, but he hasn’t been to your hometown; he asks questions and shows interest and you realise how starving you’ve been. Starved of this sort of attention – focused, interested, penetrating. You’ve had a taste and you want more and more.

You ask him about Seoul; did he grow up here? No, he tells you about Busan in the South. He speaks slowly and thoughtfully about his childhood and his dreams and moving here at such a young age, growing up so far from everything he’s ever known. He’s achieved more than he ever thought was even possible, more than he had ever dreamed, he explains; sometimes he still can’t believe it’s real.

While he talks, you study his face. He’s happy now, but you feel for the scared, little boy thrust into the industry machine before he even knew who he was. Now’s not the time, you know that, but you want to gently crack him open like a soft-boiled egg. Such depth in his eyes, so much soul. You resist the urge many times to put your hand on his arm, hold his hand for a second, reach out and physically touch him somehow. You feel connected to him in such a way that you need it to be physical for a moment, to close the circle, to just… touch.

You’re still standing by the window, deep in conversation, when a man appears from behind the wall and beckons to Jungkook. They talk quickly and Jungkook returns.

“I’m going to get a drink.”

Your heart falls.

“Do you want one?”

A wash of relief. You shrug, sure.

“Ok, wait here. I won’t be long.”

He leaves and you turn back to the window, pressing your forehead against the cool glass. You wonder what time it is, where is Hanjae, what’s he doing, is he even still here, has he noticed you’re missing, is Jungkook actually coming back? You take some deep breaths.

With no watch, no phone, and no clock in this dark, little hideaway, you have no way to tell how long Jungkook has been. One minute? Could be ten. You wonder if he’ll make it back to you; after all, he was hiding back here to avoid being grasped in the clutches of all the many, many people out there. Maybe he’s been waylaid. He’s got stuck with a chatterbox who won’t be quiet; he’s got trapped into a business conversation that he can’t leave. Maye he’s seen some friends and is having fun out there.

You sigh, knowing that if he doesn’t come back soon, you’ll have to go out there, too. Hanjae will be missing you, you tell yourself; it’s rude to abandon him completely when he’s the reason you’re even here in the first place. You take a deep, resolute breath and stand, smoothing out your dress. You bump into Jungkook as you round the corner.

“Oh,” he says as he sees you. “Are you going?”

He hands you a drink and you take it, the cold glass sending goosebumps up your arm.

“Uh, well, no, well yes, I was but I didn’t know if you were coming back.” You hope you didn’t sound accusatory.

“I’m sorry, it is hard to avoid people out there,” he replies, continuing around the corner and sitting on the bench. You follow him and he places a hand on the bench, indicating you should join. You feel bad; he shouldn’t have to apologise. You sit next to him on the bench and sip your drink.

“You can go back out there, if you want, you know; you don’t have to stay here with me,” you tell him. His eyes widen and he shakes his head.

“No, thank you!” he laughs. “That was enough. Maybe I will show my face again a bit later.”

“Good.” You spoke without thinking and are just about to regret it when he smiles at you.

“Yeah. Good.”

You place a hand down on the bench and he reaches out a finger to touch your bracelet. When you packed your whole life into one suitcase, a lot of brutal cuts had to be made and there are so many parts of your heart at home, abandoned by you, but not this one. It’s a tiny gold chain, with a tiny gold J attached.

“That’s not the letter of your name,” Jungkook says, still studying your bracelet.

“No… No, it’s from my best friend’s name,” you explain. “She gave this to me a long time ago; I like to wear it when I feel like I need her, to feel like I’ve got a little bit of her with me.” You rub your wrist, self-consciously, and wonder what she’s up to right now.

“Does it help?”

“No, not really.” You laugh, a little sad. “It reminds me that there are people in the world who love me, which is nice, but it also reminds me that those people are thousands of miles away.”

“All of them?” His penetrating eyes beam at you and you feel like no matter what answer you give, it’ll be the wrong one. You shrug.

“I thought maybe you told me a fake name before,” he admits, grinning sheepishly.

“Oh, I don’t think that would’ve ever occurred to me! Why, do you do that?”

He nods. He smiles but it’s sad, the mirth not reaching his eyes.

“Sometimes. But I wouldn’t get away with it so easily if I wore one of those, right?”

You unclasp the bracelet’s fastening and it slips off your wrist and, taking an end in each hand, hold it out to him. He looks uncertainly at you and you nod. He offers his wrist and you fix the chain in place.

“There’s no getting away from who you really are,” you tell him, knowing full well that it doesn’t matter where you go, ’cause there you’ll always be. He grins. “For tonight.”

“For tonight, I can be your best friend?”

You laugh and nod, thinking, ‘god, can he be my best friend forever?’.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, gently moving the bracelet around his wrist; you wonder what he’s thinking and take a sip of your drink.

A few minutes pass in a comfortable silence until Jungkook speaks again.

“I don’t have anything to give you.”

“What?”

“In return.” He indicates the bracelet. “I don’t have anything I can give you.” He takes off a ring and considers it. “I think they will all be too big.” He holds it out and you offer up your hand; he slips it onto your index finger and you lift your hand up, swirling the ring around so that it very nearly flies off the tip.

“Too big,” you confirm with a grin.

He pulls his sleeve up to reveal a watch and you notice the tattoos running underneath.

“I think this will not go with your dress, right?”

You nod absently, trying to make out what you’re looking at. You take the edge of his sleeve and lift it a little higher to get a better look and then become aware of what you’re doing and drop it, apologising instantly.

“That’s ok,” he says and he undoes the cuff, rolling the sleeve up to his elbow. He turns his arm slowly so you can get a good look (or as good a look as you can manage in the dark light). You nod approvingly.

“That’s why I was looking at you earlier,” he says, a little embarrassed. “I was trying to look at your tattoo.”

Well, that explains the intensity of his focus earlier. You turn so that he can see. You feel, for a second, his hand above your skin and your stomach clenches, praying he won’t touch you like everyone else does: ‘just please don’t let him touch me; please, please don’t let him touch me’. But the touch never comes. You sense his hand moving across your back and down your arm and you twist your head to see his finger, an inch above the skin, tracing the lines of your tattoo. You breathe a sigh of relief.

“What do you think?” You ask, turning your body back towards him.

“They’re very beautiful.” He looks you straight in the eyes as he answers and you’re struck again by the feeling of being seen and not merely looked at. Neither of you looks away this time. You hold the moment between yourselves, pausing time just for a second. You break the connection and look down, tracing a finger over your bracelet on his wrist. You know it’s only a coincidence that they share the same initial – it’s not exactly uncommon – but something about it feels right.

“Do you want it back?” he asks.

No, you don’t. Not yet. You feel like he’s wearing a part of you while he’s wearing it; he has accepted a part of you as a part of himself. You feel warm in the glow of that tiny, tremulous thread between you. You think, and the thought shocks you, that you would be alright he kept it forever. It’s immensely precious to you, so much so that you brought it with you thousands of miles away into your new life, but, somehow, Jungkook’s wearing it brings more to you, more comfort, more confidence, more certainty in the knowledge that there are people in the world that love you. Love is not diminished when given away, it is doubled. You suddenly wish that you did have something of his you could wear, if only for tonight.

The silence lapses and you talk, nursing your drinks, knowing that one of you will have to leave if either of you needs another. You forget the passing of time and everything outside of this little bubble. It’s the most fun you’ve had at a party for ages.

The man who appeared earlier returns and, once again, beckons to Jungkook. Jungkook stands and goes over to him and they, once again, talk quietly. Jungkook returns and the man remains.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Jungkook asks and you feel shattered all of a sudden. You had forgotten all about Hanjae, truth be told, and you are overwhelmed with guilt and shame that you’ve spent the whole night away from him, talking to another man. He isn’t my boyfriend, that’s what you wanted to say: he’s definitely not my boyfriend, or even if he is, I don’t want him to be and he won’t be for much longer! Why is Jungkook asking? Whatever bubble you were in has been popped from the inside. A part of you feels heartbroken and a part of you feels betrayed. It was just you and Jungkook; there’s no need to bring anyone else into this.

“Oh, uh, I don’t know,” you stutter in response. “Probably… somewhere…”. You have no idea where he will be; you assume that he is still here (you hope he is still here because he still has your phone), but who can say for sure?

“Do you want to leave with me?” Jungkook asks and you are stunned into momentary silence.

“What?”

“Do you want to leave with me?” he repeats. “We don’t have to go anywhere; I can take you home if you want, but would you like to leave?”

You feel like that is too many mixed messages to cope with right now so you nod dumbly and stand.

“Hanjae,” you say abruptly as your brain sputters back into gear. “He has my phone and my things.”

“Ok, shall I meet you outside? I’ll wait.”

“I’ll be quick.”

Breathless, you walk as quickly as you can back into the cavernous room, the noise building to a roar, the throng of people overwhelming. You stand on tiptoes and crane your neck, looking for anyone you recognise, cursing the organisers for the dim lighting and all men for their interminably boring black suits which make none of them stand out. You notice movement in your peripheral vision and turn to see a waving arm, beckoning you. It’s not Hanjae; it’s one of his friends.

“Where have you been?” they exclaim as you approach. “Han was looking everywhere for you; thought you must’ve disappeared! Anyway, he had to leave earlier – some work emergency – so he told me to give you these if I saw you.” He hands over your phone, lip balm, and a lipstick you’re sure isn’t yours. “He told you you can order a car if you like, but he won’t be back so you’ll have to get home on your own.”

You see that his friends clearly have no idea of entertaining you or keeping you company for the rest of the evening, which is just as well, given you were about to leave with someone else.

As you make your way outside, you look at the lipstick you were given. You try to think what might constitute a ‘work emergency’ on a Friday night; it’s not like the guy’s a doctor or fire fighter! You try not to let suspicion creep in, because Hanjae has never given you any reason to doubt his fidelity before, but then, you’ve also never considered it, because you’ve never really considered the two of you to be in an actual relationship. Maybe he hadn’t either. And if that’s the case, then there’s no need to be hurt or angered by it. But there is a niggle. There’s something crawling, digging up, trying to plant its seed in your heart. You decide if it’s going to happen at all, it will have to be tonight. As you approach the doorway, you stand to one side and dial Hanjae’s number.

“여보세요?” he answers just as you were about to give up.

“Hi, it’s me.”

“Oh. Where are you?”

“I’m still at the party.”

“Oh. Where did you go? I tried to look for you earlier; I’m not there anymore. I’ve had to come to the office.”

“Yeah, I know; I found Seongyoung and he gave me my phone.”

“Right yeah, yeah.” He sounds distracted.

“So, are you in the office now?” you ask.

“Yeah, but I can’t see you; there’s been a huge mistake and it’s going to take a long time to fix.”

“Please; it’ll be quick. I promise.”

He sighs heavily but agrees. You hang up the phone with a small weight sitting in your stomach.

You turn back to the entrance and walk out, scanning for Jungkook. There are a few dark cars sitting in front of you but you have no idea if any one of them belongs to him. You hesitate, not sure where to turn, standing awkwardly in front of drivers and security officers. A door on one of the cars opens and a hand waves; you approach and Jungkook beams up at you from inside.

“Quick!” He reaches out to grab your hand and pull you in. He speaks quickly to the driver in Korean and turns back to you. “Are you alright?”

“Um, actually, can we go somewhere?”

“Where do you want to go?”

“I… have to do something. It won’t take long, please.”

“Of course, that’s ok. Where do you want to go?”

You give him the address of Hanjae’s office building and he relays it to the driver. You sit, slightly on edge, compulsively flicking the edge of your phone case off and on, off and on. The building isn’t far and you sit in silence while Jungkook hums along to the radio. You are barely even aware of what song is playing. The driver slows and you unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Just give me like, five minutes. I’ll be quick,” you say as you open the car door.

“It’s ok; you can take as long as you like. I will wait.”

You wonder what Jungkook thinks you are doing, where he thinks you are. You wonder if he knows. Part of you assumes he does, since he seems to intuitively understand so much about you. You enter the building and approach the reception desk. The woman behind it barely looks up as she opens the barrier to let you in. You’re not sure if she recognises you from times you’ve been here before or just does not care about her job. If you had to man a reception desk in an almost entirely empty building on a Friday night, you probably wouldn’t care much either. As you call a thank you to her and walk past, the lipstick suddenly flashes into your mind. Could it be hers? You suppose it could be. It could be anyone’s. It might not have anything to do with Hanjae at all. Maybe Seongyoung handed you his girlfriend’s lipstick by mistake. Maybe not. It won’t matter soon.

You reach Hanjae’s floor and can see him in his glass-walled office: jacket and tie off, sleeves rolled up, standing and on the phone. You walk with purpose to his door and wave. He gestures for you to come in, so you stand inside the door and wait for his conversation to end.

“What’s up?” he asks, putting his phone on his desk.

“I think we need to have a conversation,” you begin, your resolve holding firm for now.

“Right now? I really don’t have time-“

“I said I’d be quick and I meant it.” If you aren’t quick, you’re not sure you’ll be able to go through with it.

“Ok then, shoot.”

You hadn’t actually planned what you were going to say. None of the words sounded right; you wanted to be clear and direct but kind at the same time; is it even possible to tell someone kindly that you don’t want them to be in your life anymore? You clench and unclench your fist and decide to rip the plaster straight off.

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore. I don’t think we should be together. I think we should end things. This is over.” The words tumble out without your being able to stop them. Hanjae’s eyebrows raise and he looks surprised.

“Oh.”

He looks a little dumb-founded but you had expected him to say more and aren’t sure what to do now. You open and close your mouth like a goldfish, waiting for something else to happen. You haven’t actually broken up with anyone before so you’re not sure how this usually goes.

“Can I ask why?”

“We’re not a good fit.” You hope that this will suffice but you know it won’t satisfy him.

“What does that mean? Don’t we have fun together? Don’t we like each other?” Ay, there’s the rub.

“Actually, I don’t really think you do, no.” You try to explain to him all the things you’ve been feeling recently; you try not to blame him for any of it because you don’t want this to turn into an argument; you tread as carefully as you can but you’re so desperate for this to be over now it’s started that you can’t stop your mouth running on and on.

“You’ve given me so much and I’m so grateful to you for that and I really value all the time we have spent together and I do think you’re a nice person and I don’t want to hurt you but… well, this is how I feel.” You feel a little breathless as you come to a stop. Hanjae doesn’t say anything for a while and you can’t read his face. You don’t know what he’s thinking and the longer the silence lasts, the sicker and sicker you feel.

“I’m sorry that you feel that my attention has been so unwelcome,” he finally answers, speaking slowly and coldly. “I don’t really know what else I could have done to show you that I value you: I buy you things, take you places, I introduced you to all of my friends, I show you off; is that not loving? You say you don’t even think I like you, but if that’s true, why would I bother to see you? Why would I waste my time with you if I didn’t? I hadn’t, until now, considered our time together a waste, but it seems as though my efforts have been just that. You’ve been feeling this way for weeks, have you? Well, why are you here, then? Why did you come tonight at all if all of my friends ignore you and all of my attention is so unwanted? If the time we spend together makes you feel so awful, why have you waited this long to say something? You disappeared very early this evening; I tried looking for you everywhere. You said you were getting a drink and then I didn’t see you again. Perhaps it’s not that my attention is unwanted but that you’ve found someone else whose attention you prefer? Were you just putting up with me for long enough to find a higher roller, someone richer, or more famous perhaps? Am I a step on your ladder to the top? You have never, until tonight, given me a reason not to trust you, but you have to admit that this is rather out of the blue and your behaviour at the party was… not very polite. You abandoned me-“

You scoff at that, unable to stop yourself. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. Hanjae raises his eyebrows and waits for you to explain yourself. You’ve no idea how. You say nothing. You’re the first to break eye contact and you look at the ground, then the window, the desk, anywhere but Hanjae’s face.

“Fine,” he says. “Have it your way. What a horrible boyfriend I was to you, to treat you to presents and dinners and parties, to be so impressed by you that I want to show you off to everyone I know, to speak English with you and help you with Korean, to help you get settled in, to give you a social life, to show you what Seoul has to offer, what I have to offer, to never treat you like-“

“A person. You didn’t treat me like a person, Hanjae. I’m not a prize to show off; I’m a person first, not an object.” Your heart is hammering in your chest and you can feel tears pricking in your eyes. How can you get him to understand?

“Oh, I objectify you?” It is his turn to scoff. “And yet I am the one who has been used.”

You don’t know what to say to that.

“No, I- it’s- we- I-“

“Whatever, you can leave now.” He turns his back on you and picks up his phone again. He turns around with the phone to his ear and nods at the door, shooing you away. You turn around and leave the office on trembling legs. As soon as you step into the lift to go back down, the tears come. You’re not even sure why you’re crying; you wanted this after all. It was just horrible. You feel sticky with sweat all over, and shaky with the stress of it. You know that Hanjae isn’t right, saying those things about you, and he was lashing out defensively, but it hurt all the same. Or maybe he is a little bit right. You said yourself that he’s given you so much, access to things and people and places you wouldn’t have had otherwise; you said yourself that you enjoyed that. Maybe you are in the wrong, at least a little bit. You both are, you suppose. You exit the lift and walk briskly out of the office, not turning to look at the receptionist on your way out in case she sees you crying. You step out of the door and hide behind a pillar, catching your breath, drying your tears and trying to put on a happy face. Leaning against the cold stone of the wall, you close your eyes and take a deep breath.

“____?”

Shit. Jungkook is right there in front of you, looking concerned.

“Are you ok? What happened?”

You shake your head and hold up your hands.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” You stand up straight and give yourself a body shake. “Honestly, it’s fine.”

“Do you want me to take you home?”

You can’t think of much worse than going home to your poky apartment to spend the rest of your night miserable and alone.

“No… Can we, can we get a drink? Do you want to get a drink?”

Jungkook grimaces slightly. “Ah, that’s kind of difficult for me. I can’t really just go to a bar on a Friday night, y’know?”

Your heart sinks; of course he doesn’t want to go to a bar with you.

“We could have a drink at my house, if you want?” he offers.

Your heart rises. God, yes, please.

You drive back to Jungkook’s apartment in silence. The presence of the driver makes you feel somehow inhibited, self-conscious. You feel conspicuous, even though you’re sure the driver couldn’t care less about who you are or what you’re doing there. He’s just doing his job. You, nevertheless, don’t want to say anything yet, not until you’re alone with Jungkook. He’s scrolling on his phone, and you take the opportunity to study him more closely. His face changes with the changing light: suddenly brightly lit as you stop at traffic lights under a lamppost, then hidden in shadows. He has a kind face, open and bright, deep, soft eyes… You wanted to reach out a finger to trace his profile, the line of his lips, study him as if you were about to embark upon a masterpiece of him. Not that you would be able to capture his spirit if you tried. There’s a light in his eyes that seems to lie so deeply within them but shine so close to the surface.

You can’t work out what you’re feeling – too much, honestly. You need a minute to step back, step out of yourself – out of your life – to sort through everything that had happened. You feel a little as though you have accidentally stepped on a travelator and things are moving faster than you can keep up with. You wonder if you’ll regret any of this in the morning, if sleep will clear your mind and show your actions up as mistakes. You hope not. You think not. You catch the glint of your bracelet, still around Jungkook’s wrist and you nod to yourself. No, this – if this alone – is not a mistake.

When you arrive at Jungkook’s building, he shows you in and your mouth gapes. This was much bigger than Hanjae’s place. Wow. Just how famous was this guy? You are reminded forcefully of how little you actually know about him, whatever your feelings might be saying.

“What would you like to drink?” he asks, crouching in front of a cabinet. He opens the door to reveal all manner of spirits and liquors.

“Oh, anything,” you answer, without thinking. He laughs and you’re embarrassed by your answer but making another decision at this point feels impossible. You feel like a swan, calm on top, but flailing wildly underneath. You begin to think that maybe you should have let Jungkook take you home, so you could’ve gone to bed, or stared out of the window blankly until the sun rose. He’s too stimulating. Questions constantly rise to the surface of your mind like bubbles in boiling water: what’s his family like? What’s his favourite film? What’s his favourite food? Is he single? What’s he thinking? What does he want out of life? He’s already achieved his career dream so what’s his next dream?

He hands you a glass and you take a sip without even looking. It’s strong, good. You follow Jungkook to the sofa and flop onto it, thankful to be sitting comfortably. He asks if the drink is ok and you just nod and take another sip. You’re torn with conflicting desires: to stare at him endlessly, to fall into his chest and listen to his heartbeat, to tell him everything, to listen to him tell you everything, to kiss him, to never kiss him, to be his best friend, to fall in love with him, to fall in love with him and love him from afar from the rest of your life. It’s exquisite, the confusion, the keenness of your muddled feelings. You wonder briefly if you are just drunk but shake the thought from your head: you haven’t had that much to drink.

You drink in silence for a while and when you’ve finished, you stand. Placing your glass on the coffee table, you wander over to the bookcase, full of not books but DVDs and figurines. You scan the titles, your eyes not really seeing. They linger on a small figurine of a tiger at the edge of a shelf. You pick it up.

“Year of the tiger?” you ask, brandishing the figure at him.

“It is.” He stands and comes closer to you, taking the tiger in his hand.

“This is me,” you tell him. 24 years old, you were born two tigers ago. You take the figure back and wiggle it in his face. He laughs.

“I’m an ox,” he says, kneeling down. He opens the door of a little cabinet and reveals figurines for each of the zodiac animals. You laugh picking them up and inspecting them. He takes the ox from the cupboard and the tiger from your hand and puts them both back on the bookshelf. Feeling silly, you move the tiger and make a sound that’s neither quite a roar nor a meow as though the tiger is talking to the ox. Jungkook laughs and responds in kind, lowing deeply as he turns the ox towards the tiger. This is the sort of nonsense you need to lift you from the deep water of your confused feelings.

You move to the window as Jungkook refills your glass. It’s probably a good view that he probably paid a lot of money for but you can’t be enamoured with so many lights and so much modern architecture. You can just barely make out the dark shape of the mountains beyond and you smile; that’s more like it. Jungkook joins you at the window. You talk quietly; you don’t want to tell him that you broke up with Hanjae, because it implies something that you don’t really want to imply, but it comes out in the course of conversation and you actually feel relieved. You don’t know what Jungkook feels about it, if anything, but he seems pleased for you. You feel like everything is so fragile, delicate, precarious. You stay talking at the window for what feels like hours (maybe it is) because you feel that to move will be to ruin the moment somehow, force a shift in the atmosphere that you don’t want.

Your eyes settle on the gold chain at his wrist and your fingers reach out for it, toying with it. Jungkook’s hand moves, into yours, his fingers dancing on your palm. You flick your eyes back to his and he’s smiling at you, shy and sweet. You let him take your hand and suddenly it’s a handshake and you’re snorting, laughing, leaning towards each other as your shoulders shake. You lean your head on his shoulder as your breath comes back and Jungkook moves his hand to waist, pulls you closer to him.

He’s still smiling when you lift your head to look at him and you’re staring back at him, wide-eyed and unsure. He pulls you closer still, his arm snaking around your waist and he kisses you without hesitation. His lips are soft but he isn’t; he’s sure and confident and he brings his thumb to your chin to gently press down, gently open your mouth and let him inside. You’re responding before you’ve had the opportunity to think. Your hands grab at the collar of his shirt and you move against him, a leg between his legs, his bottom lip between your teeth. You’re dizzied and light-headed, grateful to the cool glass at your back and Jungkook’s arms secure around you.

When he pulls back, with apparent effort, he rests his forehead on yours, nudges your nose with his and looks at you from under his thick, dark lashes.

“Honestly, I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he says, his voice hushed in the silence of the apartment, and then he barely brushes his lips against yours again, as if he just can’t help himself.

If you were confused earlier, you aren’t anymore. The world around you has faded to a fuzzy, black blur, eclipsed by the soft bloomings of want in your chest.

“I’ve wanted you to do that all night,” you whisper back, aware only as you’re saying it that it’s true. You have wanted him to do that. You want him to do it again and then a whole lot more.

He takes your face in his hands and kisses you, lightly, gently.

“I don’t usually do this,” he says, eyes alighting on yours for only a second before he’s looking at your lips again. “It’s not… This isn’t like me but…”

“I know,” you reply. “Me, too.”

“I feel…”

“Something.”

“Yeah.”

Your heart skips a beat when he looks at you and the world holds its breath; you almost feel time slow down, the seconds that it takes for his hands to fall from your face, glide down your body, and encircle you again stretch into minutes. The distance between your lips – not even inches – stretches far into the horizon. You almost feel each of the chambers of your heart squeeze, a rush of warmth heating your cheeks, your chest, your core.

And then his lips are on you and you’re like a Catherine wheel, spinning and sparking and wild. Time snaps back like an elastic band and you’re frantic now, all hands and lips and tongue.

You slip your fingers into his shirt, flicking open the buttons, running your hands over his body, soft and supple and flushed. His hands push your dress higher and higher, over the slope of your hips and he lifts you, pushing you against the glass and pushing his body into yours. You can feel the arousal pooled at your core and you can feel him straining against his trousers. You’re wet like you’ve been waiting all night for it, like you’ve been anticipating this very moment since you first laid eyes on him. You push his shirt to the floor, watching it float down like a white flag of surrender: surrendering yourself to him, he to you, to this, whatever this is or could be.

“Oh, fuck, fuck.”

Soft whispers tumble from you as Jungkook’s fingers slide past your underwear and press into your wet heat. Your cunt squeezes against them and your hips cant towards him as he presses his thumb against your clit. Your whimpering, whining, mewling barely drowns out the squelch of his fingers working inside you, arousal dripping down his hand. You’re climbing steadily to your peak, moaning against his mouth as he rolls his tongue with yours. You pull on his hair, his head tipping back, his throat exposed. He looks down at you with heavy-lidded eyes and a slack jaw. Then he grins, thrumming faster, pressing harder and you’re squirming. You let go of his hair to clutch around his shoulders, holding on hard as your own head tips back, thudding against the glass.

Jungkook brings his face close to yours and nudges your nose with his, gently guiding your attention back to him. He holds your gaze as your legs quiver and shake, as your breath hitches and you close your eyes, so, so close now.

“Look at me.” His voice is low, soft, but demanding. “I want to see you… I want you to look at me when you come.”

And you do. Your eyes don’t leave his as you fall apart in his arms, pleasure coursing through you like a lightning strike. You’ve barely finished before he’s crashing his lips into you, urgent and needy and then suddenly neither of those things. He slows. He removes his fingers from your soaking wet slip and he holds you close to him, just barely grinding his hips into you. His kiss is deep, languorous, like he’s really tasting you now. The quiet moan he makes as his tongue rolls with yours makes your heart skip a beat and you’re weak. So weak that, when he drops you, lightly, your feet returning to the floor, you almost stumble, almost fall. But he’s got you.

He pushes your dress back down, smoothing it out so he can unzip it. He finally breaks your kiss as he pulls it from your shoulders, letting it slip down your arms. You’re braless and goosebumps sprinkle all over your skin, your nipples shivering to attention. You run your hands through Jungkook’s hair as he dips his head, lowers himself to kiss your neck, your chest, to run his tongue up the underside of your breast and suck your tight little bud into his mouth. The glass at your back is cold but he is so warm in front of you.

He drops to his knees, hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and pulls them to the floor. You step out and he flings them away.

“I want to make you come again.”

He looks up at you and his eyes are wide, imploring, asking, seeking, searching and it’s all you can do to just nod. You’ve had one-night stands and hook-ups and situationships and even boyfriends who haven’t said that to you, who haven’t cared enough to try for one, let alone more.

He’s still looking at you when he puts his mouth on you and runs his tongue through your folds. You let your head fall back again, eyes to the ceiling. Jungkook grunts, the vibration against you a little shock. You look back down at him and he nods, swirling his tongue around your clit, and you understand: he wants you to look at him, he wants to see you and wants you to see him seeing you, as you have all evening. Because he does. See you. He sees you like no one else has. You can already feel it bubbling up within you. You can sense his soul reaching out to yours as yours reaches back to him. You think to yourself that you would probably have fallen in love with him even if he weren’t so good at—

“Oh, fuck, Jungkook. Fuck. Yes, like that.”

He’s fucking you with his fingers again with his mouth sealed around your clit, the soft plane of his tongue pressing against it, sucking and then lapping. You grab onto his hair, hard, grounding you, something, anything to tether you to this world as you feel yourself floating away.

He groans and you understand his instruction, having to drag your eyes back to his. His brows are furrowed, eyes shining bright. Looking into his eyes at this moment is like falling into an abyss. Tumbling and twisting, your body writhes with pleasure, shuddering against the window as you come again, a cry strangled in your throat, legs shaking and then you’re literally falling, sliding down the glass. Jungkook follows you down, his fingers still pressing against you as he kisses up your stomach, your chest, and then he’s holding you. You’re in his arms and he’s kissing you, your own arousal all over his lips and his tongue.

“You ok?” he asks, his voice thick and low.

You couldn’t speak. Could only take his face between your palms and kiss him again. He lifts you up into his lap, so you’re straddling him, knees either side of his hips, and you can feel him, pressing against his trousers, trapped and tensed. You sit down a little further and roll your hips over him; he groans into your mouth and his hands on your glutes squeeze tight.

“Jungkook,” you whisper and he whispers your name back. “Please.”

He lifts you from his lap and kneels up, hands working at his belt and his zip. He stands to shuck them down his legs and kicks them off. You look up at him and ask,

“Do you have…?”

He nods, crossing the room to his wallet on the sideboard by the door. You press your hands against the cool glass of the window, but rather than cooling you, it warms, too. There is heat all over you, burning around you.

Jungkook returns and falls to his knees, condom in hand. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and mumbles, rolling his eyes at himself as he stands once more to push them all the way down and off. You giggle, reaching out for him, rising on your knees as he slides the rubber over his length. He pulls you to your feet and cages you in against the window, lips capturing yours.

He bites down on your lower lip and you can feel him at your entrance. He’s rubbing his length along your slick slit and you’re whimpering, walls fluttering, heart racing. He breaks the kiss to look you in the eye as he pushes into you. A soft gasp leaves you and your hands circle tight around his biceps. You can feel him slow, his eyes watching you carefully now.

“No, don’t stop, don’t stop. It feels good. Please.”

He continues, still slowly, and, when he’s all the way in, he kisses you again, pressing his body against yours.

“Jungkook,” you breathe, but whatever you were about to say disappears into a moan as he drags his cock out and then pushes back in. He moans back and brings a hand to your breast, his thumb rubbing light circles against your pert nipple. You’re already not sure how you’re still standing and then he lowers his lips to your neck and sucks at just exactly the right spot. Your legs tremble and your cunt quivers and you feel his hot breath against your skin as he chuckles.

“You like that, huh?”

“Yes.”

He says no more and his lips return to the sweet spot on your neck. You cling to him, gripping tightly, every pass of the head of his dick against your g-spot a test of your strength, fading rapidly as you start to drown in him. He thrusts deep and slow with little grunts of effort, like he’s holding back.

“Jungkook, I—”

“Yes?”

He’s looking at you again and, up close like this, he takes your breath away.

“I want more. More. I-… I can’t stand, but I wan—oh.”

He doesn’t even let you finish before he’s grabbing you, his hands at the backs of your thighs lifting you, taking all your weight onto him. You wrap your legs around him and he moves faster now, harder, looking down at where he disappears into you. He’s more vocal, louder, as he fucks you into the window and the sound of him, his pleasure, his pleasure in you, stirs you. You’re fucked out and weak but your desire renews your force. You squeeze your walls against him and he curses.

“Shit.”

You do it again and a tiny chuckle bubbles up in his throat.

“Baby, you are dangerous. You’re—fuck, hngh—you’re going to make me come.”

He’s panting and breathy and his hair sticks to his forehead. You wrap you arms around his neck and kiss his cheek, his jaw, bite at his earlobe.

“Isn’t that the point?” you whisper.

A shudder runs through him and he growls, his grip on you tighter, even painfully tight. You pull back to look at him and his eyes are black, his jaw set, his brow furrowed. But he’s still looking at you; his eyes aren’t glazed, aren’t elsewhere, aren’t looking through you. He’s seeing you and you feel naked but not afraid, not exposed. You hold his face and kiss him and he grunts, groans; it’s open-mouthed and sloppy, your breath mingling as your tongues slide past and over each other.

He pulls away and rests his forehead on yours and his stare is so intense, from that alone you would know he was close. He’s cursing lightly, repeatedly, fucking you hard, and then he’s coming, too, with a shudder and an animal groan, guttural and low.

He lowers you both down to the floor and lays you down, kissing you lightly, almost politely, as he brushes your hair from your face. He turns away and stands, disposing of the used condom and grabbing the blanket from the sofa. You just watch him return to you, settling next to you on the floor, covering both your bodies.

You look at the window where your heat and sweat have condensed in an already fading cloud. You laugh and point it out; he laughs, too.

“It’s almost gone already,” he says, watching it shrink, disappear, self-effacing.

You hum. This is usually when you’d feel awkward, make a show of being polite, get up and go but you don’t want to leave; you want to stay right where you are and watch the sun rise with him. You want to yawn and stretch yourself like a cat before curling against him and sleeping through the morning. You want to kiss him both goodnight and good morning. You look at him looking at the window and imagine an entire life with him, spanning years and decades in a second. Your heart beats heavy in your chest and you wonder if he can feel it, if he feels it, too.

When he finally looks back at you, you know. He kisses you like you’re precious, gently traces the shapes of your face with featherlight fingers. You shiver and he pulls you closer into his warm body, pulls the blanket tighter around you.

“Y’know,” he says, pausing to kiss you again. “I’m really glad I went to that party.”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #bts x reader #bts smut #mmm repost

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ofmdlovelyletters · 20 days

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💌 Welcome to OFMD Lovely Letters! 💌

This blog is intended to be a space that celebrates Our Flag Means Death and its incredible fandom. While the show may have been canceled, its impact continues. There are still more stories to tell, more art to draw, more gif sets and edits to create. There will still be cons and meet ups. There will still be new fans discovering the show every day. There will still be friendships to be made, and existing friendships will continue to grow stronger.

In short, this fandom isn't going anywhere.

But right now we’re all at various stages of being mentally devastated, and as a wise captain once said, the best thing we can do is talk it through as a crew. That’s where OFMD Lovely Letters comes in.

How does it work?

Ask Box: Is there someone you think deserves a lovely letter? Someone who really makes you smile, who makes your time in this fandom better? Maybe they’ve written a story that makes your heart sing, or made a shitpost that you’re still laughing about days later, or they’ve been a really good friend to you when you’re in your blanket fort era. Maybe they’re a blorbo from your notes and you just feel good seeing their URL all the time. Use the ask box (on or off anon) to send them a lovely letter. We’ll tag them when we post the note in hopes it’ll give them a smile. And if you see the post in the wild, interact with it! Shower that person with more love and remind them that you’re happy they’re here.

Submission Box: Is there a post you’ve written or that you’ve seen on your dash that you think would help improve the general vibe around here? Submit it via the submission box. We’ll be looking for posts that celebrate fandom (specifically OFMD) and the positive impact it’s had on people’s lives.

Please note: all messages will be moderated. We want this to be a safe space ship for everybody.

Our hope is this blog will be an avenue to spread love and positivity throughout the fandom, through these lovely letters as well as some low-pressure events we’re planning for the future. If you have any ideas, please don’t hesitate to reach out.

Long may we roam. 💕

#ofmd #our flag means death #intro post #pinned post

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paramoreblr · 4 months

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THIS IS WHY GIF CHALLENGE + ZINE

welcome to This Is Why: a 1 year anniversay fan project hosted by @dykehayleywilliams, @ignorancelive & @userparamore, celebrating a whole year since This Is Why was released. we are inviting the paramore community to participate in a gif challenge and a community zine!

the gif challenge will run from february 5 to february 9 and the zine will be released on february 10. all types of content are welcome!

THE GIF CHALLENGE

the gif challenge will follow these prompts:

day 1 (feb 5): favorite interview moment during the This Is Why era day 2 (feb 6): favorite tour outfit (SA tour, UK&IE tour, NA tour, AUS&NZ tour) day 3 (feb 7): favorite tour moment (SA tour, UK&IE tour, NA tour, AUS&NZ tour) day 4 (feb 8): favorite lyrics on This Is Why day 5 (feb 9): favorite song on This Is Why

to participate, post your content to your own blog and tag #1yearoftiw & mention @paramoreblr so we can reblog!

we look forward to seeing your creations! 🖤❤️

ZINE

we’re taking zine submissions from now until february 4! all art, edits, collages, essays, photography, and more that reflects on the album and what it means to them are welcome.

we’re gathering both previously created and new works, so if you’ve made something the last year that you’ve already shared, we’d love to commemorate everything in one place.

all submissions must be emailed to [email protected]. for more information and prompts check out the FAQ for more detailed info on zine submissions.

we look forward to receiving your submissions! 🖤❤️

#events #1yearoftiw #paramore #pmore #hayley williams #taylor york #zac farro #usermusic #usergif #dailymusicians #userbbelcher #usercruellesummer

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bradshawsbaby · 2 years

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* LAST UPDATED 3/11/24 *

Welcome to my blog! Thank you for being here! ♥️

Please be aware that this blog is 18+. Any blank blogs and/or blogs with no age or age range listed will be blocked.

Below, you’ll find a compilation of the stories I’ve published on this sideblog, as well as playlists I’ve created to pair with the stories/universes that I write for. Any and all feedback is always so deeply appreciated!

For people who may be new around here, I’ve also provided a little bit of information that will hopefully make it easier to navigate my works!

who you’ll find around here:

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw - Most of my Rooster stories take place within the “Mr. & Mrs. Bradshaw/Bradshaw Family” universe that I’ve established, but I’m also currently writing an Ancient Rome AU series with Rooster and have plans for other series in the future!

Hangman & Phoenix (Hannix) - My stories about Hangman and Phoenix exist within the same universe as the Bradshaw Family. I write about their “Friends With Benefits” Era, as well as their established relationship and married/family life.

Robert “Bob” Floyd - I’m currently writing a World War II AU series with Bob, and I’ve written other standalone stories for him as well. I have plans to write more stories with Bob in the future!

Rhett Abbott (Outer Range) - What can I say? I fell in love with Lewis Pullman and that led me straight into the arms of a bull-riding cowboy. My Rhett stories generally take place within the “Rhett & Honeybee” universe.

ask box/requests:

My ask box is always open! I love chatting with you all about anything and everything, so never be afraid to drop a message, anonymously or not!

I’m open to requests and suggestions, but please know that that doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll write every request I receive. Please don’t take it personally! I work full-time and only have a certain amount of time to write, so I try to stick to what sparks some inspiration.

engagement:

I put warnings before all my stories, so please make sure to check them before reading any of my works. If you feel there’s a warning I’ve missed, feel free to let me know!

Not all of my stories are 18+, but I carefully label the ones that are. Again, please be respectful and check all warnings before engaging.

Reblogs and comments make a writer’s day! No matter how “old” the story might be, I love to read your feedback!

A simple key for the stories linked below:

* = Requested

+ = 18+

Mr. & Mrs. Bradshaw

Rooster As Your Husband (Pt. I)

Rooster As Your Husband (Pt. II)

A Glimpse of Them (Rooster x Wife!Reader, Goose x Carole) *

You, Me, and Karaoke (Rooster x Future Wife!Reader) *

Until I Saw You (Rooster x Future Wife!Reader) *

The First Time (Rooster x Future Wife!Reader) + *

Show Me All the Scars You Hide (Rooster x Future Wife!Reader)

The Proposal (Rooster x Future Wife!Reader) *

Honeymoon Shopping (Rooster x Fiancee!Reader) *

Wedding Bells (Rooster x Wife!Reader) *

Hawaiian Breeze (Rooster x Wife!Reader) *

Tan Lines (Rooster x Wife!Reader) +

A Surprise Gift (Rooster x Wife!Reader)

Flight Scare (Rooster x Wife!Reader)

Sweet Revenge (Rooster x Wife!Reader) *

Emergency (Rooster x Wife!Reader) *

Missing You (Rooster x Wife!Reader) +

Mirror, Mirror (Rooster x Wife!Reader) + *

Save the Last Dance (Rooster x Wife!Reader) *

Breathe (Rooster x Wife!Reader) *

Hands Off (Rooster x Wife!Reader)

Happy Birthday, Bradley! (Rooster x Wife!Reader)

Bad Day (Rooster x Wife!Reader) *

It’s A Lovely Day Today (Rooster x Wife!Reader)

Let’s Do Some Kissing and Making Up (Rooster x Wife!Reader) *

Anniversary Treat (Rooster x Wife!Reader) +

I’m Here (Rooster x Wife!Reader) *

Power’s Out (Rooster x Wife!Reader)

Government Issued (Rooster x Wife!Reader) *

You’re Beautiful (Rooster x Wife!Reader) + *

Always By Your Side (Rooster x Wife!Reader)

Birthday Girl (Rooster x Wife!Reader) + *

In Sickness and In Health (Rooster x Wife!Reader) *

Bronco Baby (Rooster x Wife!Reader) +

Only You (Rooster x Wife!Reader) + *

The Better Man (Rooster x Wife!Reader)

Piano Lesson (Rooster x Wife!Reader) +

A Special Visit (Rooster x Future Wife!Reader)

Holding Out For A Hero (Rooster x Wife!Reader)

Underneath the Tree (Rooster x Wife!Reader) +

Looks Like Christmas (Rooster x Wife!Reader)

Forever Valentine (Rooster x Fiancee!Reader)

My Birthday Baby (Rooster x Wife!Reader)

The Bradshaw Family

Rooster As A Father (Pt. I)

Rooster As A Father (Pt. II)

Rooster As A Father (Pt. III)

Welcome to the World (Goose x Carole)

That’s Our Baby (Rooster x Wife!Reader) *

Pool Day (Rooster x Wife!Reader)

Fun on the Fourth (Rooster x Wife!Reader) *

Show and Tell (Rooster x Wife!Reader)

A Whole New World (Rooster x Wife!Reader)

Fall & Halloween With The Bradshaws (Rooster x Wife!Reader)

Defending Mommy (Rooster x Wife!Reader) *

Goose’s First Birthday (Rooster x Wife!Reader) *

Pop! (Rooster x Wife!Reader) *

Homecomings and Heart-to-Hearts (Rooster x Wife!Reader)

Hannix/Hangman & Phoenix

My Favorite Mistake // FWB Pt. 1 (Hangman x Phoenix) +

Friends With Benefits // FWB Pt. 2 (Hangman x Phoenix)

What He Tells Himself // FWB Pt. 3 (Hangman x Phoenix)

What She Tells Herself // FWB Pt. 4 (Hangman x Phoenix)

The Night She Stayed // FWB Pt. 5 (Hangman x Phoenix)

SFW Alphabet for Hangman & Phoenix

So This Is Love // FWB Pt. 6 (Hangman x Phoenix) +

The Seresin Family (Hangman x Phoenix)

Little Black Dress (Hangman x Phoenix) +

Fall & Halloween With The Seresins (Hangman x Phoenix)

Never Alone (Hangman x Phoenix) *

Merry Christmas, Darling (Hangman x Phoenix)

A Valentine’s Day to Remember (Hangman x Phoenix)

Locker Room Tryst (Hangman x Phoenix) * +

The Cowboy Rule (Hangman x Phoenix) *

A Christmas Eve Proposal (Hangman x Phoenix) *

A Christmas Eve Proposal Pt. 2 (Hangman x Phoenix) *

Robert “Bob” Floyd

Bob As Your Husband *

No Words (Bob x Wife!Reader)

Senses (Bob x Wife!Reader) +

What Christmas Means to Me, My Love (Bob x Wife!Reader)

Change of Plans (Bob x Wife!Reader) +

Sprinkles of Love (Bob x Female Reader)

scenes from the kitchen sink (Bob x Female Reader)

Like Peas in a Pod (Bob x Female Reader)

Alternate Universe (AU) Series

Letters to My Love (Bob x Female Reader) // World War II

Si Vis Amari Ama (Rooster x Female Reader) // Ancient Rome +

Playlists

Mr. & Mrs. Bradshaw

Hangman & Phoenix

Rhett Abbott

Oneshots/Miscellaneous

SFW Alphabet for Rooster

Hangman As Your Husband

Love in the Air (Rooster x Female Reader)

Rhett Abbott (Outer Range)

a sky full of stars (rhett x girlfriend!reader) *

to the nines (rhett x childhood friend!reader) *

rhett to the rescue (rhett x girlfriend!reader) *

love in the air at the county fair (rhett x childhood friend!reader) *

the christmas gift (rhett x wife!reader) *

snow angels (rhett x girlfriend!reader) *

all i wanna do is make love to you (rhett x girlfriend!reader) + *

baby’s first christmas (rhett x wife!reader) *

afternoon delight (rhett x girlfriend!reader) +

baby mine (rhett x wife!reader)

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #x reader #x female reader #rooster headcanons #miles teller #hannix #hangman x phoenix #top gun: maverick #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #outer range #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #writing masterlist

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svtsource · 4 months

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#CARATREVIVAL24 ❤️‍🔥 JAN 14 — FEB 14 Welcome to 2024, with a new set of prompts and challenges for Carats on Tumblr that should hopefully (🤞) be fun to create new content for! There are five segments, ending in a surprise gift session!

Any content is welcomed, providing that revolves around the prompts and that it follows the rules of the network: including not posting any stolen content nor any NSFW works! We're happy to see gifsets, SFW writing, moodboards, art and more! Here are the five segments below:

PART 1: PICKING FAVOURITES & FIGHTS ↳ Runs from January 14 to January 21! Create content that revolves around your bias/es in Seventeen, OR a flipped prompt about which member/s you could take in a fight ⚔️

PART 2: BLAST TO THE PAST ↳ Runs from January 22 to January 28! Create content that takes us back to your favourite era, or your favourite lyrics from Seventeen songs that have stuck with you 🎵

PART 3: IN THE ARENA ↳ Runs from January 29 to February 4! Create content that highlights the duo of members that you would pair up with to win The Hunger Games, or drop the violence and trickery to simply showcase your favourite live performance (including fanmeetings, concerts, and award shows) 🏆

PART 4: ALTERNATE UNIVERSE ↳ Runs from February 5 to February 11! Create content where you place Seventeen in another world (whether it's fictional or not, or in your favourite movie or book!) Here's a sample gifset idea! 👑

PART 5: LOVE AND LETTER ↳ Runs from February 12 to February 14! Our final prompt fittingly ends on Carat Day and Valentine's Day and here you can post a surprise gift for any other creator or blog! 💞

RULES 🗒️

Create and post SFW content that revolve around the respective prompts!

Reblog this post and follow @svtsource 💌 This event is about bringing together more CARATs <3

Caption your post with @svtsource carat revival '24: [chosen prompt]

Tag your creations with #caratrevival24 so we can find your work and reblog it to the network!

If you have any questions, feel free to send us an ask and we'll answer it as quickly as we can! Most importantly, we hope that you enjoy this event and creating for it ❤️

#caratrevival24 #event #admin #seventeen

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