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blake kathryn

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noise dept.
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"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

roma★

Janaina Medeiros
taylor price

Product Placement
Cosmic Funnies
AnasAbdin
Game of Thrones Daily
Cosimo Galluzzi
KIROKAZE
dirt enthusiast
Three Goblin Art
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❣ Chile in a Photography ❣

Love Begins
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@suneonu
ミ☆ masterlist | recs | ask games ミ☆
// this isnt my main blog but is active //
Arms Unfolding- Sunghoon
Genre: Agnst, Exs to lovers?, mutal pining, healing, song-inspired
Warnings: agnsty, recovering from a break up, suggestions of shutting themselves up and struggling with break up, a little bit of crying
PSA: I apologise in advance about my writing. I am dyslexic so I may make some mistakes with spelling, grammar, or accidentally miss out words. I will try to fix all my mistakes, but I’m not great on picking up on them ^-^
Word count: 860+ words
A/n: Asks and feedback are greatly appreciated x
Masterlist
hope i'm not tired of rebuilding
cause this might take a little more
It felt like you always ended up rebuilding things.
The world crumbled around you and you spent you days building them back up. At work, with friends, with family. God even you house was in need of repairs.
On the most part it didnt bother you. You found satisfaction in the healing and felt contentment knowing you could help others.
However, you could also not deny how draining it was. With work you had built up a off-switch. Time away from your clients you didnt let what you heard cloud you mind or interfere with your life. But the things you heard still drained you, and with those you knew personally it was harder to do.
Especially with Park Sunghoon.
You had told yourself it was over. You expected, like with previous relationships, you would be able to easily get over it a few months after.
But now it had been 6 months. Never once had been so hung-up over someone.
When the world crumbled around you, you never crumbled with it. But after your break up with him you could feel yourself cracking too.
Rebuilding yourself was not your forte.
Rebuilding that relationship? For the first time you didnt know where to start.
i think i'd like to try look at you
and feel the way i did before.
Your friends had told you to cut him off: block his socials, delete old messages and photos, to get over him.
But you didnt want too.
You missed it. You missed him.
Waking up next to him in a morning. Snuggling with him on the sofa. Reading the little notes he left you whenever he had to leave early or would be out when you came back. Laughing at his silly comments and jokes.
You could sit and list the little things for hours... and you did (it was starting to drive your friends insane).
You wanted to stare into those dark brown eyes again, admire every aspect of his face and feel the rush through your body when he stared back.
oh, our fire died last winter
all of the shouting blew it out
Both you and Sunghoon had been stressed from work. He had a large upcoming project, and you yourself had a new, pertically troubled, client.
The tense atmosphere had been been very apparent. Your usually passive apartment had become laced in petty arguments.
you know i could live without or with you,
but i might like having you about.
You didn't know whether you regretted it or not.
You felt relieved to escape from the suffocating atmosphere that was created.
You knew you had it within you to pack it all up and move on. To declare it all over and enjoy life single, or even find someone knew.
But there was something about what you had with Sunghoon that couldnt be compared to previously relationships.
And you wanted it back.
yes, these new walls are pretty hard to crack
it might take a while until i trust you won't attack
oh i apologise, but it was only self defence
running away just made sense
The arguments just seemed to build and build until you couldn't stand it anymore and walked out.
You never had been one for arguments or confrontation, especially when it came to loved ones. Since the break up you'd felt more wary of your relations and had struggled creating knew ones. Instead of fixing the cracks in yourself, you built a wall around yourself to prevent anything causing it to crack more.
For Sunghoon, he had never witnessed something so painful. After you walked out he convinced himself you would come back. A few minutes, hours, tomorrow.
But you didn't.
A few days and he opened his door too Jake and Sunoo. You'd asked them to collect your things and they did. Sunghoon couldnt stop his tears as he watched his friends removed every inch of the person he loved.
He loved you.
And he still did.
but here i am with arms unfolding
You send a simple text.
"Hey"
Unsure whether you would receive a reply.
i guess it isn't quite the end
He did.
"Hi"
"How are you?"
old partner in crime, i am going to try
You asked to meet up. He agreed.
You met at a small coffee shop. It opened during the time you had been apart.
When you saw him you were met with a familiar soft smile. One you hadn't seen in months. You hadn't realised how much you missed it. You fought the urge to break down into tears right there.
Park Sunghoon now stood infront of you. His black hair now dyed platinum blond, his physique a bit stronger, but apart from that he was the same as the man you left
"You want to head inside" he spoke gently, as if he was worried to break you even more. Though his eyes still watched you in admiration and awe.
"Sure"
Your lips tugged upwards into a smile as you met his eyes, the walls around you faded away.
to fall in love with you again.
~the end~
Taglist:
@blessed-sky @maeum-your @nar-nia
(I nearly developed the wall metaphor into a much more complicated Geography metaphor but I stopped myself)
And on the 7th day God said,
"I command that the ears be full of sticker"
So god created NCT 127; god gave them his blessing and said:
"Sticker, tagging, tagging, tagging, tagging, I got what you need, wonhaneun geol golla but-yeo..."
And thats what happened.
God looked at what he had done. All of it was very good! Evening came, then morning—that was the seventh day.
~ nctzen 1:27
heeseung pulls you flush against his chest, his strong hands gripping your hips as he grinds slowly into you. his lips brush your ear, hot breath sending shivers down your spine. in a deep, husky voice filled with lust and quiet defiance, he whispers,
“sign the petition, drop my hashtags on x, and boycott hybe… like my good fucking girl”
Okay my friend is great most of the time,, but why tf do you have to go out of ur way to slander someone's music taste
"Guys I hate kpop"
Literally no one fucking asked.
If you are responding to the sound out of the other person's phone iylt was in fucking japanese?!?!? Kpop had nothing to do with anything going on rn
And if that was a comment just coz im in the room,,, teasing might be a part of out friend group but just slandering my music anytime its not in English isnt actually funny
a knife to the heart would hurt less
If I shuffle my playlist......and into the i-land comes on......
awake ...but at what cost
I really hope this is heeseungs personal decision and his dream.
I get a horrible feeling this is smth akin to the plot of thamepo. But im not in the industry,, I dont know and I shouldnt speculate.
I will be happy for heeseung but this really hurts.
I cant believe I never saw ot7.
Just Peachy
Pairing: vampire!Sunoo x fem!reader
Genre: Period comfort fic, angst, fluff, emotional intamacy
Synopsis: When a vampire’s instincts heighten during a vulnerable week, Sunoo chooses restraint over hunger - again and again.
Word Count: ~3.6k+
A/N: Hai!! So…I’m on my ladies days right now ☹️…but I thought this was a unique idea!! I decided to make it Sunoo because I don’t see vampire fics of him often. I hope you enjoy, and I’m sorry if the storyline barely makes sense!!
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Sunoo is quiet.
Not distant. Not cold.
Just…restrained.
The windows are open even though
February air slices through the apartment in thin, bitter drafts. The curtains lift and fall in soft waves, carrying in the scent of snow and concrete and something clean enough to dull everything else.
He stands in the kitchen with his back to you, refilling a glass of water for the third time in ten minutes.
The faucet runs longer than it needs to.
You’re curled on the couch with a blanket wrapped tight around your waist, heating pad pressed to your lower stomach. The cramps are dull but constant, radiating warmth and ache in slow pulses.
“You okay?” you call softly.
The water shuts off immediately.
He turns.
And smiles.
Bright. Perfect. Practiced.
“Just peachy.”
He doesn’t giggle.
That’s how you know something’s wrong.
Normally he would add something playful - a dramatic sigh, a hair flip, some teasing comment about surviving hardship. But tonight, the smile sits on him like porcelain.
Fragile.
Too careful.
You shift, wincing slightly as another cramp rolls through you. He notices that - of course he does. His gaze flickers to your stomach, to the way your fingers press tighter against the heating pad.
He looks away almost instantly.
“I made you tea,” he says lightly. “It’s on the table.”
“Thank you.”
He nods once.
Then he turns back to the sink.
The faucet runs again.
♡
You notice it more as the night stretches on.
He doesn’t sit next to you.
He doesn’t drape himself across the couch like he usually does, chin tucked into your shoulder. He doesn’t steal the blanket. He doesn’t complain dramatically about how cold the apartment is, even though the open windows are letting winter crawl in.
He keeps his distance.
Measured steps. Controlled breathing.
Every time you move, his posture tightens.
Every time you adjust the blanket, his jaw shifts slightly.
It clicks for you slowly.
“Oh,” you murmur under your breath.
He hears it.
Of course he does.
His shoulders go rigid.
You hesitate before speaking again. “If it makes you uncomfortable…I can sleep in the guest room.”
Silence.
The glass in his hand shatters.
Not thrown.
Not slammed.
It just…cracks.
The fracture splinters beneath the pressure of his grip, spiderwebbing outward before the bottom drops into the sink with a sharp clink.
You jolt upright.
“Sunoo-“
There’s a thin red line across his palm.
He doesn’t look at it.
He looks at you.
And something in his expression makes your stomach drop harder than any cramp.
“Uncomfortable?” he repeats quietly.
You swallow. “I just thought maybe-”
“It’s not disgust.”
His voice is low.
Steady.
But it costs him something to say it.
He sets the broken rim down carefully, as if the world might break with it.
“It’s hunger.”
The word sits between you.
Heavy.
Honest.
Your breath catches.
He kneels in front of you - but not close enough to touch. There’s space between his knees and yours. Intentional. Deliberate.
“Vampires are…heightened,” he explains, gaze fixed somewhere just below your chin. “Scent. Pulse. Iron. Everything amplifies.”
The apartment feels smaller suddenly.
“I would rather shatter every bone in my body,” he continues evenly, “than hurt you.”
His jaw tightens.
“This week just makes it harder.”
Not dramatic.
Not monstrous.
Just restrained.
You study him.
His pupils are blown wider than usual. Not glowing. Not feral. Just…strained.
“You could’ve told me,” you whisper.
He exhales slowly. “I didn’t want you to feel self-conscious.”
“I’m not,” you say immediately.
He looks at you then. Really looks at you.
And something flickers behind his composure.
“I am,” he admits softly.
Your heart squeezes.
“You think I don’t trust you?”
His throat moves.
“I know you do.”
“Then what are you afraid of?”
He hesitates.
“Myself.”
♡
That night, the air is cold enough to make your toes curl under the blanket.
You fall asleep eventually - exhaustion from the cramps dragging you under.
Across the room, Sunoo sits in the chair near the window.
He hasn’t moved in an hour.
He’s listening.
To your breathing.
To your heartbeat.
To the subtle shift of blood beneath skin.
It’s louder this week.
Richer.
His fingers curl into the armrest.
A small sound escapes you - a quiet whimper when another cramp tightens in your sleep.
His eyes snap open instantly.
Gold flickers for half a second before he forces it down.
He’s beside you in less than a breath.
Cold hands hover over your stomach before settling gently against the heating pad. Not touching skin - just anchoring.
You stir.
“You’re shaking,” you mumble.
He freezes.
…
Am I?
He presses his forehead carefully against your shoulder, deliberately angling his face away from your neck.
“I’m choosing you,” he whispers.
Not trying.
Choosing.
Over and over.
Your fingers instinctively curl into his sleeve.
You shift closer in your half-sleep haze, seeking warmth.
Your neck brushes his collarbone.
His entire body goes rigid.
For one split second, instinct roars.
It’s violent. Primitive. Demanding.
His jaw clenches so hard it aches.
Then -
“I trust you,” you murmur.
Barely conscious.
But clear.
The instinct doesn’t disappear.
But it quiets.
Because trust is louder.
His throat tightens unexpectedly.
Tears sting his eyes before he can stop them.
Not because he wants to hurt you.
But because he hates that his body is built in a way that even makes this moment difficult.
He pulls you closer - carefully. Reverently.
Like you’re sacred.
He does not falter.
He stays.
♡
Morning light creeps in pale and soft.
You wake first this time.
Sunoo is still awake.
You can tell by the tension in his shoulders.
“You didn’t sleep,” you murmur.
“I did,” he lies gently.
You lift a hand and brush your fingers against his cheek.
He flinches -
Not away from you.
But away from the pulse beneath your skin.
Your thumb stills.
“Sunoo.”
He closes his eyes.
“It’s not disgust,” he repeats quietly.
You shift closer anyway.
On purpose.
Your forehead presses to his chest.
“If it ever gets too hard,” you whisper, “tell me. Don’t suffer alone.”
His arms slide around you slowly.
Carefully.
“I don’t suffer,” he says softly.
“You do.”
A pause.
“…I endure.”
You pull back just enough to look at him.
“You don’t have to endure loving me. It’s okay.”
His composure cracks then - just slightly.
“I’m not enduring loving you baby,” he says, voice finally wavering. “I’m enduring myself.”
Your heart aches.
“You are not a monster.”
His lips tremble faintly.
“Maybe not,” he whispers. “But my instincts are.”
You cradle his face gently.
“And what are you doing right now?”
He looks at you.
Really looks at you.
“Choosing,” he says.
You nod.
“Exactly.”
He thinks the worst has passed.
♡
A few nights later, you fall asleep faster.
The cramps aren’t as sharp tonight, just dull and heavy. You curl on your side, blanket tucked under your chin.
Sunoo lies beside you.
Still.
Too still.
He thought he was managing it better.
He thought the first night was the worst.
He was wrong.
The scent hits him differently tonight.
Stronger.
Sweeter.
His eyes snap open.
And this time-
They don’t flicker gold.
They burn red.
It’s sudden. Overwhelming. A wave crashing over restraint he’s been carefully building for days.
His breathing turns shallow.
His fangs press painfully against his bottom lip.
He sits up slowly.
Every instinct in his body is screaming.
Closer.
Closer.
He moves before he fully realizes he is.
He’s kneeling beside you now.
The room is dark. Quiet.
Your pulse is steady beneath your skin.
Alive.
Warm.
His vision tunnels.
He leans down.
So close he can feel the heat of you against his face.
His hand hovers near your shoulder.
Shaking.
Just one bite.
That’s all instinct wants.
Just one.
His eyes blaze brighter.
And then-
He sees it.
Tucked under your chin.
The small plushie he won for you months ago at an arcade. Slightly lopsided. Soft from being slept with too many nights.
You’re holding it like it’s him.
Like it’s comfort. Like it’s safe.
His breath stutters.
Something cracks.
She can’t help this.
The thought cuts through the haze.
She didn’t choose biology.
She didn’t choose instinct.
So why am I acting like I don’t have control over mine?
His jaw trembles.
His eyes squeeze shut hard enough it hurts.
“No,” he whispers to himself.
Not to you.
To the hunger.
When he opens his eyes again-
They’re normal.
Brown.
Human.
He stumbles back like he’s been burned.
His hand flies to his mouth.
Horrified.
At himself.
At how close he was.
You shift slightly in your sleep, clutching the plushie tighter.
Trusting.
Always trusting.
And that’s what undoes him.
He leaves the bedroom before the guilt suffocates him.
The living room is colder.
He doesn’t close the windows.
He sinks to the floor, back against the couch.
And finally-
He cries.
Not dramatic.
Not loud.
Just broken, quiet breaths as he presses his palms into his eyes.
“She can’t help it,” he whispers hoarsely. “So why can’t I?”
The answer is ugly.
Because it’s easier to blame instinct than to discipline it.
He sits there until the sky lightens faintly.
Until the red is completely gone.
Until he can trust himself again.
And when he returns to the bedroom-
He keeps a little more distance.
Not because he wants to.
But because loving you means protecting you.
Even from himself.
♡
A week later, the apartment feels different.
The windows are closed.
The air is warm.
You’re curled on the couch again - but this time without the heating pad, without the blanket wrapped tight around your waist.
Just comfortable. Lighter.
Sunoo is beside you.
Close.
Not calculated.
Not rigid.
Just close.
His arm rests along the back of the couch, fingers brushing your shoulder absentmindedly. He’s been quieter this week - but not in the strained way from before. It’s softer now. Settled.
You glance up at him. “You’re staring.”
He hums faintly. “Am I?”
“Yes.”
He doesn’t deny it.
“I like that you’re not in pain,” he says simply.
Your chest warms.
“I’m okay,” you reassure him. “This happens every month.”
He nods.
But his thumb gently traces the curve of your arm anyway. Like he’s confirming it for himself.
There’s no tension in his posture now. No sharp edge in his breathing. Your scent has faded back into something normal.
Manageable.
Safe.
“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly.
You blink. “For what?”
“For thinking I had to endure loving you.” His voice is quiet but steady. “For acting like my instincts were stronger than my choices.”
You sit up a little straighter.
“Sunoo.”
He looks at you fully.
“I was scared of myself,” he admits. “But I’m not ashamed of loving you anymore. Even when it’s difficult.”
Your throat tightens.
“You never scared me,” you whisper.
“I know,” he says softly. “That’s what scared me.”
You move closer deliberately, swinging one leg over his lap. Testing.
He doesn’t stiffen.
Doesn’t calculate distance.
He just places his hands on your waist.
Warm.
Steady.
Human.
You study his eyes carefully.
They’re brown.
Calm.
“You okay?” you ask.
He smiles - and this one isn’t porcelain.
It reaches his eyes.
“I’m better.”
You lean in and press a gentle kiss to his cheek.
Then his jaw.
Then, softly, his neck - the place that once made him tense.
He exhales slowly.
Not because he’s fighting something.
But because he’s letting it go.
“I can handle myself,” he murmurs. “I just needed to stop pretending I couldn’t.”
You rest your forehead against his.
“I’m not fragile,” you say.
“I know.”
“I trust you.”
His arms tighten around you.
“I trust me too.”
And that’s new.
That’s everything.
You stay there like that for a while - warm apartment, steady breathing, no open windows, no shattered glass.
Just you.
Just him.
Choosing.
Easily, this time.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
A/N: I actually had this written two days ago but I’ve been so caught up with work that I couldn’t find the time to post it. I’m so sorry!! BUT. It’s out now!! I hope you guys enjoyed it!!
Happy birthday Johnny and Jungwon from Aotearoa/New Zealand 😌
My ask games getting liked and reblogged 3 years later
IDID Push Back is a banger
But i always think they are singing
Tell me what you want, just grab it by the titty, savage
And it caught me of guard sm at first
Like I then assumed its smth in korean,, BUT CANT UNHEAR IT NOW
Im so glad we can all agree that moonstruck is on the sex playlist
I actually love this concept of all the members having their own version of the title track
Alpha Drive One when they are about to hit the freak alarm