#and it CERTAINLY should not be the norm

[chamerionwrites]

Somewhat more controversially - beyond just well-written characters, I think a lot of people find themselves repeatedly drawn to particular Types of characters. And I think the frequency with which those types appear, and the particular flavor of those types, is often (unnecessarily!) gendered. (Sticking with the espionage theme: it’s pretty difficult to find clever, calculating, socially astute female spy characters whose tradecraft doesn’t hinge primarily or at least very heavily on their sex appeal). TL;DR even very well-written female characters are often (unnecessarily!!!) confined to a much more limited set of narrative roles and archetypes.

And while I’m definitely not saying this is something we should all just accept completely uncritically, I do think it’s a pretty undeniable factor in why a lot of people’s lists of favorite blorbos might be kinda dude-heavy.

[uni-vee]

[LN] Guiding Star COSTS

Was supposed to include in the post but forgot oopsie. I’m pretty sure costs are fixed jusging from the video on Vivi’s channel (I was not able to play the event when it came out).

1st Node: ~3950

2nd Node: ~7400

3rd node: ~12,400

4th node: ~14,400

Live 2D: ~23,000

[unproduciblesmackdown]

payoff of being embedded in a unit of authoritarianism since birth is sure then being able to go like "wow this is just like dynamics & phenomena i experienced up close & personal, repeatedly, in many contexts & configurations in my first two decades of life" plus also beyond that in abuse culture world & the noncoincidence that even interactions beyond the confines of the home(tm) reinforced / did not contradict the hierarchy & concomitant abuse within....but then like hey yeah also the Larger Units of hierarchy & abuse / authoritarianism (ft. their logics & practices necessary for continuously & continually shoring up that hierarchy) can also make it like hey yeah the Two Parent abusive nuclear family more like the Two Party [the US is also a one party state but in typical american extravagance they have two] where right wingness is defined by the degree of directly embracing white supremacy & "left wing" is "anything else" hence like wow The Left is always infighting (everyone with any ideas besides "umm christofascist white ethnostate?" so like yeah there are many other ideas) vs The Right's admirable cohesion (simply re: the white supremacy idea which also necessarily embraces all other Out Group / Nonperson paradigms & practices b/c that's what all already has been necessary for shoring up the [when has the US been a nongenocidal non white supremacist non oligarchy])

like obviously individual experiences & contexts vary but like narrowing in on [the Family as immediate relations ideally cordoned off into nuclear households] ft. [Parental Authority the top priority of which is preserving that authority, ideally patriarchal, an abusive mother e.g.? hey, that ought to be the father] times it's like, think people tend to struggle re: having the "nicer" / "safer" parent who was also shitted on as well but also at the end of the day would always side with the "meaner" "more dangerous" parent, even in whatever terms most sympathetic to the abused parties, with the underlying logic that we're always just going to have to deal with them so some secret strategic mitigation is the best that can be done, perhaps the equivalent of being sent a ":(" after an Onslaught Of Expressed / Enforced Authority(tm) event....the tendency to see the best in any lack of actual intervention / protection on the assumption That Could Never Happen Anyway & forever At Least that the one parent isn't as bad as the other [the Not That Bad / Could've Been Worse infocation, like free bingo square in manifestations of minimization if not outright abuse denial] & all the sympathy for, you know, being human & doing their best(tm) &c which sure might all be true but the abused parties (oft children, more vulnerable than adults, by virtue of being children i.e. considered legal property of some specific adults & theoretical property of any adults in general (the paternal logic in any "protect [xyz]" like maintain one group's supposed ownership / control over [xyz] "for their sake" then? great) & also generally smaller & newer at being alive in this world) but who are liable to not extend that sympathy to themselves (or certainly not be extended that sympathy....when is "they're doing their best / they're only human / they mean well or whatever / they love you, they're family" successfully deployed the Thwart an abusive parent like it is to tell an abused child to not be too resentful of this situation, when is it actually deployed toward the abusive parent at all really. & again in the lack of boundary between the authoritarianism within many individual family households & that of the state they exist in (here re: the US) like that naturally one encounters the logic of abuse expressed just as "common knowledge" & the Assumptions of other people, e.g. the rejection of a parent having zero access to a child, the reinforcement of automatic apologia deployed for whatever a parent could possibly do, argued for "family", yet not deployed the same way to automatically defend anything thee child(tm) could do, thinking emoji lol....see: like the non boundary between [the Patriarchal home/family(tm)] & capitalism when uh oh capitalism the system of continuously maximizing exploitation Needs various forms of labor to be unpaid, uh oh another lack of boundary when white supremacy is used to also shore up the patriarchy that shores up the white supremacy, e.g. that even if in some "inferior" class it's treated as More Important that at least you're not that And black, the theoretical ideal/normal white man is a person while a white woman is a woman while a black woman is black, white women could have any legal property via chattel slavery which needed white women's participation to help enforce, the specter of sexual violence all coming from nonwhite & especially black men & it's up to the genteel white man to Protect Women (see prev, implicitly white or you'd have to specify otherwise)

anyway that is to get around to pointing to the Two Parent System wherein so shockingly the results are the same as the One Parent System re: abuse maintaining The Family (properly, i.e. unquestionable & certainly undeniable parental access to children, & "ideally" ofc again the patriarchal Father as ultimate authority w/ownership over the Mother, who in turn is theoretically honored for that motherhood (at least you own your children, insofar as it doesn't contradict w/what the father wants to do with his superior claim to ownership) & then finally all the obviously shittiness from being in that position in a patriarchy is in turn dumped on The Children who are ungrateful & owe the mother everything Because of what the broader society & immediate personal expressions of that abuse have done to her. see also ofc that two adults likely don't have the resources to raise a child in time or money or energy, maybe there's only one but also even an extended family's worth of adults aren't enough, is it enough when a child is sent to school for some other adults to be in charge most of the day, or even if someone is hired to look after them beyond that, all this ofc with the assumed premise that a child is always limited to the various Domains of The Adults In Charge, & from there i segue into how naturally being in gay baby jail unless & until adults are no longer recognized as Legally In Charge Of You (the grand like 5 minutes it's relatively been since the ideal timeline of a woman's life wasn't being legal property of her father until asap passed along to legal property of her husband. still considered ideal ofc but like with "maybe you can have a bank account" now & "maybe you can become 29 before you're in Old Maid danger" Maybe, i said, Maybe....anyway that obviously adults(tm) being divided up (atomised. spritz) into Households isn't even supposed to be enough to live on their own, re: necessitating Marriage, much less uh oh having kids who are stuck with their parents who are stuck with them, but then all the obvious actual problems & abuses inflicted on Adults to have to have their family households & exploited jobs are dumped on the children who Must appreciate & be loyal to the parents (i.e. never Deny Access) while yknow kids have Fake Problems they're whining about, the one Real Problem of having to pay a bill gets the payoff of leverage to tell your children to shut the fuck up or perhaps the more vulnerable spouse

hm didn't segue right into "so shoutout to like The Ratchet Effect diagrams lol, the "Two" Party System where its supposed left wing Blocks Movement To The Left, right wing Moves Everything To The Right" but even that is like, mm, conferring a passivity to what democrats do in the continual movement to the right (won an election? lost an election? the lesson either way is The Right Is Right; exact same logic as in "winning or losing" "the war on crime" like the collection & analysis of whatever statistics show the trend of some "crime" is increasing in frequency or magnitude? show that it's decreasing? the lesson either way is Cops Need More Power) like the institutional effort of democrats to push a candidate nobody wants through primaries (did we even do that this time around. oh great that the assumed candidate even graciously agreed to not force themself as The Candidate, & now like 5 min left with the Next In Line candidate dumped on everyone now with the lesson for the left(tm) to shut up already lol) & then it's up to Grassroots Voters. it's up to Unity & well we all Need to listen to the white supremacists, points were made, in the "elections" with voting as limited as possible & with the electoral college & supreme court as Safeguards against democracy & here's the senate, eternally thus, & again the conclusions will always manage to be moving To The Right, paraphrasing from twitter like democrats are about to be or already at the point of "in the name of unity we will no longer be running against republicans; it's too divisive :(" which yknow is already The Statements of all of yesterday from various like "i'm the republican official white supremacy agree-er now" after also the entire campaign of "no, I'm the fascist" where like wow shocking that the appeal to the fascists didn't win a) the fascists who will ofc want the even more overt fascism, why wouldn't they or b) the people who want antifascism actually, and do not want fascism; who could have foreseen? & it's always the fault of being Too Antifascist for the actions of the fascists or the Diplomatic Comprimises the other party makes with the fascists &/or their Failure to thwart them....the Nicer, Safer party in power is surely doing their best & at least they're not the Meaner, More Dangerous one but at the end of the day they'll always side with that party over america(tm) & those bearing the brunt of the actions of State Power can be told to keep their chin up or else to stop acting out b/c how do you expect that state power to respond, cmon, you bring it upon yourself, & you Have to work with them & understand all their feelings & your role in resolving those feelings by being lesser inferior property, you do Have to understand, b/c in the end this is All About Family, surely Good & Necessary, whoops i mean in the end this is All About America

anyway yeah i'm like damn my "nicer" (also shitty) father who was also the even more sexist & racist (& certainly no Less ableist, queerphobic) parent was basically the democratic party of the Two Parent System of Family Government lol. b/c we Need to perpetuate this Family, no other logics much less actions are acceptable....& people struggling with the Parent / Adults in their life like that who were the "safe" & "protective" ones who markedly failed to protect & minimized the harm afterwards but also in general, never to confront the reality of the situation, or do damage control like "aw some points were made at all :( ah i see you have Feelings about this :( hmm yes the Parental Power is gonna have to make some changes" & then as soon as possible (assuming reeling in the party who was deviating too much) these changes(tm) are already compromised or diminished if done at all, & then oops things incrementally might be right back to how they always were, no guarantees it won't be Worse b/c the Power is even more insecure / aware of weaknesses, & the only way this is thwarted is if the Wayward Parties can actually leverage new boundaries / less vulnerability, not b/c the supposedly sympathetic parties, who never came through where it counts & likely would also become overt antagonizers / wielders of whatever power within the Family hierarchy / turn on the more vulnerable parties to Get Them In Line, actually came through. movement Away (more disruptive to the maintenance of The Family, The State) is blocked, incrementally only ever moving everything back, & then Further....& despite this being what the power structures are, & do, the Disruptive parties liable to be scapegoated lol, can't believe the scapegoat child is ruining everything for everyone, this Family would totally improve & start being everything it could be otherwise & we ignore who actually has the power & is actually enforcing the hierarchy harming everyone to point to that scapegoat; can't believe thee left is destroying america (republican voice) can't believe the left is destroying america (democrat voice) So You See? The Undeniable Consensus. just like how i believe it was my fault my family unit was Like That & i had those experiences, according to the vast majority of Input from that family & even others who, knowing nothing, would say how Lucky i was to be relatively close to home, or just of course that oh well parents love their children & mean well & try their best. just like how i believe that being treated like i've been generally as a neurononconforming person, i.e. hated & the interpersonal abuse & bullying & ostracization & [attention possibilities: ignored, responded to but negatively, interacted with to get something from] & actually rewarding interactions or just actions being liable to get Deluxe authority responses as disruptive(tm) & ofc disobedient(tm) like hell fuckin yeah lol. just as i don't think that other people who have similar experiences or ones i don't have, i.e. assessed race being automatically seen as wrong / inferior, being isolated & undermined from all around? well gotta be their fault then, cmon lol....Abuse is actually normative, not extraordinary, in every Arena of interactions, & so are the logics / apologia / assumptions

anyway lol re: like yeah people struggling with the like betrayal of the "nooo i'm on your side, i sympathize, i'm the one who's nicer & you Need so that things aren't even worse" party, not even One Big Novel betrayal, but rather that that's what's Been done the whole time & doesn't stop. that supposedly if you have Any sympathy for that party you have to be like aw :( keep doing your thing (necessarily reining everyone in) or if you have Any sympathy for the people who also want things to improve but blame & take it out on the more disruptive parties (more disruptive to an abusive family e.g., btw. & not like i see Cohesion as necessarily some Good rather than neutral? when i'm autistic / my existence is supposedly antithetical to this? or when i'm able to look at a zillion hypothetical or actual situations & recognize how "cohesion" isn't the best goal / a destructive one / a vague concept anyways like cohesion Between Whom? on what basis? recognized & pursued how? why? up next: same as vague shit like "family" or "community" &c) then it's like yep gotta be Responsible for their feelings too if you're at all sympathetic & capitulate, The Only Possible Action, vs the idea of those in power actually making things shit stopping, much less being stopped / having to stop in the various ways that can happen....one way being "oh no, adult children who choose to be no-contact with parents" which is seen as A Tragedy, & sign of a Deteriorating Society, take me back. ah jeez oh no, look at the divorce raaates....Oh No, twentysomething women aren't pursuing marriage enoughhhh....again the undetectably identical echo when people peak vaguely talk about "conflicts" that thwart "community" or whatever, ugh nobody will date anymore, commit anymore, be friends anymore, hang out as coworkers anymore, talk to me if i want to talk to them anymore, &ccccc....

the real tl;dr is like wait ""two party"" (one party) US electoral system, just like ""two parent"" maintenance of thee family lol. ratchet effect raise your hand if you've only ever experienced Movement Away from the abusive family blocked, forever incrementally ratcheted back in to the desires & pursuits of those most in power / top of the hierarchy / thus of course most invested in the abuse, that's what the power & hierarchy is made of, sustained by, perpetuates....sorry doing our best :( sorry that's just all that's realistic, no other choice Really. cmon. kind of Your Fault if you don't agree to that & whoops now Everything is the fault of whoever doesn't agree & cooperate enough :( now look what you've done & brought upon yourself :( & we'll just forget the eruption of violence suppression happened & will happen again & be the overhanging threat all in the meantime

[hueseok]

it was always you.

for as long as you remember, you’ve always had the fattest crush on your childhood friend, jeon jungkook. it never blossomed into something more though, because that’s what happens when life naturally takes it course—you grow up, you move on, and you pretend that those feelings never existed in order to maintain the good friendship that remained between the two of you over the years.

so when he visits you after work one day, asking you to marry him, you do everything you can to refuse, because the reason he’s asking you isn’t due to the fact that he finally realized that he loved you after all this time, but because he thinks he’s doing you a big favor.

or at least, that’s what you think.

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 13.2k

rating: 18+

content: fluff, semi-angst, childhood friends to lovers au, pining au | ft. naval aviator!jungkook + brother’s best friend!jungkook; professor!reader + editor!reader | inspired by purple hearts

warning/s: swearing, potentially wrong medical & military information (i’m sorry but i tried to do as much research i can 😭), mentions of having type 1 diabetes, making out, heavy petting, implied sexual content: oral (f. receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (this is only fiction!)

MINI PLAYLIST: ♫ die with a smile — lady gaga, bruno mars ♫ juno — sabrina carpenter ♫ selfish — *nsync ♫ nandito na ako — benj pangilinan, angela ken

opening note. omg this is my first full length fic in two damn years i think??? certainly took a long time before i had the motivation to write again but i hope y'all like this! to my og readers who still keep up with my shenanigans, this one's for you 🥹💗

“Any questions?”

A boy wearing half-rimmed glasses raises his hand and you gesture for him to speak. “Can we get an extension on the Save the Cat project due tomorrow?”

You sigh, just as several of your students begin agreeing with him and muttering reasons of their own why the extension should be approved. It’s the week before finals, and you’re aware that the class must be packed with assignments and projects for several of their classes because of it, hence the rather last minute request. They look tired and pleading, a complete reflection of how you were when you were the one in their position nearly a decade ago, begging for an extension from a professor who you thought was kind enough to be swayed with the proposition.

You scan the crowd. “How many of you are at least 70% with it, hm?”

More than half of the class raises their hands.

“Okay, that’s honestly unexpected,” you say, pleased to know that they aren’t slacking on your subject. “Does Monday sound good? That’s three more days, to be fair. I don’t want to extend it further because I have to read everyone’s work and you guys know I don’t like rushing it before turning in your final grade.”

A chorus of relief and thanks echoed in the room, all of your students either dramatically sinking in their chair or erupting in an animated conversation with their seatmate or making crying faces to portray how grateful they are.

“Thank you so much, Ms. ____!”

“I love you, Ms. ____!”

“Ms. ____, I will offer my first child to you,” one theatrically adds and you smile a bit, rolling your eyes at students like this one who is now opting to flatter you way too much for your act of kindness.

“Alright, alright. Just get it done and I’m expecting quality work, okay? Class dismissed.”

The whole class begins to gather their things at the cue and you don’t stay there a minute longer after your announcement, exiting the lecture hall to head to the faculty room where you’re certain half of the teaching staff have gone home already. It’s already 8:47 p.m., and all you want to do is head home to get the rest you deserve after an eventful day.

There was a time that having a schedule from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. wasn’t the norm for you. You used to value work life balance so much—it was even a nonnegotiable you used to say in interviews, saying that if you didn’t get enough rest within the week, then the job most likely wasn’t for you. But things have been very different for the past months; you have definitely grown out of that mindset due to the fact that you’re simply in need of another source of income to pay for your monthly rent, utility bills, and now your medication. You’re in a stage of your life wherein you consider working part time as a professor was a blessing rather than a big nuisance.

Making a right turn to where the hallway to the faculty room is, you’re too busy rearranging the papers inside the folder you’re holding to notice a man sitting on the bench placed just beside the entrance. He notices you the second you appear in his line of vision though; he straightens his posture and proceeds on standing up immediately upon seeing you closer, calling your name softly when you failed to look at his direction, too preoccupied with the thought of finally coming home that you’re oblivious that the man trying to catch your attention is Jeon Jungkook.

“____,” he calls again and this time you notice him, your eyes widening instantly.

“Holy shi—” You stop yourself from finishing that sentence. “Jungkook?”

He grins. “Hey, lamb chop.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Is that how you greet an old friend?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

He laughs, following suit to you who’s already giggling just by his presence alone, outstretching his arms then. “You gonna hug me or what?”

You beam and step forward to embrace him. He returns it without hesitation, muscular arms circling around you and squeezing tightly that it lifts you up from the ground for a quick second. The faint smell of fabric conditioner on his clothes enters your nostrils and you feel like a teenager again, warmth rushing to your face while your heart hammers loudly in your chest. Regardless of how old the both of you are, you think your hopeless crush on the guy will forever live on and constantly transform you into a middle school girl whenever opportunities like these to have him near arise. You’re just happy you’ve trained yourself to be better at hiding it now compared to when you were younger.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in base or wherever it is that you’re designated?” you ask, the first to let go from the hug.

“Actually, I returned from deployment three days ago. I’m on leave for two weeks.”

“Wow. Two weeks, huh?”

“Yep. It’s the longest break I’ve gotten in a while.”

“That’s good. Everybody needs a break from time to time.”

“Says the girl has a day job and a night job.” He points out with a smirk; your heart does a little leap at how handsome he looks doing that. “When the hell did you get into teaching, by the way? I never pegged you to be the kind who can tolerate it. You hate kids.”

“You’ll find yourself tolerating lots of things in this economy.” You snort. “And my students aren’t kids. They’re in college.”

“Yeah, which you graduated from six years ago. Still technically kids.”

“Are you seriously jabbing at my age when you’re two years older than I am?”

He rolls his eyes at that one, an indication that you won the argument. “Anyway,” he starts again and you grin, “I didn’t come here to compare how old we are—”

“You didn’t?”

He sends you a look. Your grin gets even wider.

“I’m here because I was hoping to treat you to dinner.”

“Dinner?” you repeat, not masking the surprise from your voice.

Let’s get the facts straight before we proceed to this conversation.

It isn’t a lie when you say that you and Jungkook are great friends. You have been since you were 7 and your family just moved into the house next to theirs. He was a natural playmate, a companion when you couldn’t tolerate the antics of your older brother, the boy who looked out for you aside from said older brother, and the person you’ve shared significant history with throughout your youth that you can never seem to forget nor disregard.

It’s just that you never deemed that you were great enough friends for him to go out of his way and visit you at your workplace, offering to treat you for dinner. Gestures like that were reserved for your older brother, Seowon, who’s the same age as he is and who you’re sure is considered as his best friend. Compared to them, yours and Jungkook’s dynamic shifted slightly after graduating from college. What once was a really close friendship turned into a casual one, with mostly just teasing, light talks, and the occasional welfare checks at times you hear certain news from the other that’s worth speaking directly about.

At the mention of that, realization dawns on you on why he must be here.

“Jungkook…” You’re trying not to sound mad but you can’t hide the exasperation from your voice. “That’s not the real reason you’re here.”

“Of course, it is. Why else would I be here?”

“He told you, didn’t he?” you ask, not willing to drag this out. “You’re just going to give me another lecture that I definitely don’t need.”

Jungkook frowns, like he’s dismayed that you caught on pretty swiftly.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You pressed.

“He meant well, ____.”

You scowl. To remark that Seowon is unnecessarily nosy and coddling would be an understatement. That man hasn’t left you alone the second he was aware of your condition. Usually, whenever he gets into his ‘big brother tendencies’, his girlfriend Winnie steps in and helps you lay him off your back. However, it’s different this time; no matter how much you reinstill your independence and insist that you’re fine, it’s like you’re talking to a wall.

“What exactly did you hear from him?” you query.

He seems hesitant in answering that. “That you got diagnosed with type 1 diabetes.”

You wince.

“Look,” he steps forward towards you, “I wasn’t going to bring it up unless you did, okay? I’m just here because I’m genuinely worried about you and I want to know how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine.” You murmur. “You don’t need to worry.”

“Worry doesn’t vanish magically just because someone says so.”

“Well, it should—because I’m fine.”

“You sure? I heard that you’re struggling to buy insulin among other things you’re having a hard time paying.”

“Fuck. Seowon told you that too? That’s private.”

“My parents know. He just filled me in because he wants you to have as much support as you can get.”

“I don’t need that. I’m an adult. I’ve lived by myself for years. I can fend for myself just fine.”

“It doesn’t look like it from what I’ve been hearing.”

“All you’re hearing is a warped and exaggerated version of the story told by Seowon who won’t listen to a word I say.” You huff. “I’m fine and I’ve been doing everything I can, alright? I’m taking care of myself. I’m going to the doctor whenever I need to. I’m making ends meet, buying treatment for this goddamn disease and regulating my sugar levels all the fucking time. Why do you think I’ve been working two jobs for the past year? It’s because I’m doing everything I can to stay alive.”

Jungkook doesn’t reply, he only remains gazing at you.

“If you’re here to offer me money or whatever because of what he said,” you add, already embarrassed that you can’t even look at him anymore, “then I don’t want it.”

“That’s not what I’m here for,” he says.

“Then are you really just here to treat me to dinner?” you question sarcastically.

He laughs and you dare return your eyes at him, catching him peering at you with a fond expression. “Yes. It’s my way of doing a welfare check.”

“Welfare check.” You echo with squinted eyes. “Well, in that case, here I am—alive and healthy.”

“I can see that, and I’m glad.” He smiles. “But I need more than just seeing you. I need a conversation and an apology.”

“An apology?”

“For being the last person to know about your condition.”

“And we’re still talking about that apparently.” You mutter under your breath. “Sorry. I didn’t think that you wanted to know.”

“Of course, I would have wanted to know. It’s you we’re talking about here.”

Something about how he said you causes your lips to twitch as you fight off a smile. This isn’t a good time to dive into your romantic feelings for your childhood crush, but when he’s letting go of lines like that which are sure to have your heart soaring out of your chest, it’s hard to keep on a cool and unfazed facade. You just convince yourself that he sees you as a little sister and that’s why he’s so worried; you should already be past your ‘delulu’ phase at this age to be affected by such statements.

“I didn’t want to add to your worries,” you reason. “You already have your life to think about. Add to the fact that you’re a naval aviator—so you literally have your own life first to think about.”

“I can make space for you.”

Is he flirting? Is this a normal thing to say between friends?

You blink. “Okay, uh, that’s… that’s completely up to you, I guess.”

“I just like knowing those things first hand. It makes me worry less.”

“Got it. Next time I learn I’m dying, I’ll tell you.”

“____,” he says your name in warning, and you know he’s serious.

“Sorry.” You heat up. “I couldn’t resist.”

“Don’t be a pain in the ass.”

“I promise that’ll be the last time I make a dark joke, Lieutenant.”

Jungkook’s nostrils flare. You prevent yourself from grinning like a fool again in success of getting on his nerves.

“Are you done here? Because I’m hungry and would really like to get going now.” He changes the subject and gestures to the faculty.

“Yeah. I’ll just get my things and then I can get out of here.”

“Great. You’re letting me take you to dinner, right?” 

“Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

“Fine.” You deadpan.

This time, he’s the one who’s beaming at you. “I’ll wait for you here and we can go.”

“Okay.”

****

When Jungkook discovered that you had type 1 diabetes through a phone call with Seowon, he spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, ignoring the snores of his squadmates and overthinking what’s supposed to happen to you now that you had an autoimmune disease which he was told didn’t have a cure. He was assured that you were okay despite it, that there was medication to treat it, and that you had access to them and have been very careful with your lifestyle due to the diagnosis ever since.

He still couldn’t be put to ease though. As ridiculous as it may sound, he had this overwhelming realization that life truly was short, that you had to make certain decisions all the time because you need to adjust to what the universe is only willing to give you. It was funny coming from a person who risked his life for a living. He thinks that perhaps he never understood the philosophy of the quote ‘time is gold’ until he had a loved one on the same trajectory, always one step closer to possible death.

And so that same night, he decided to file a leave for two weeks, effective immediately after his deployment. 

He wasn’t sure what his game plan was exactly in filing that two-week leave. Was he supposed to barge in your life and force you to let him take care of you? Was he supposed to demand why you ended up having diabetes? Was he supposed to act as a big brother like your actual big brother because he was that worried about you? But if Jungkook was going to be truthful, he already had an idea on what he wanted to do in the back of his head—he just didn’t want to execute it because it was absolutely insane.

Until he heard Seowon suggest it himself when they met up at a bar to share a drink together.

“She would never say yes,” Jungkook said, beyond doubt that you won’t be persuaded that easily with a plan like that.

Seowon made a face. “I know. That girl is so hyper independent—she’d rather die than accept help.” He scoffed. “She needs it though. It’ll help with her medication and she won’t have to pay rent for that shit apartment she’s living in. Plus, she'll actually get the chance to take care of her body if she’s not juggling two jobs to have sufficient income.”

“You’re right.” Jungkook shrugged.

“You’ll do it then?”

He took a sip of his beer. “Yeah. I’d do anything for ____, you know that.”

“Even as crazy as marrying her?”

“Sure.”

Seowon stared at him, narrowing his eyes and morphing his expression into a teasing one. “Are you sure you’re not just considering this because it’s a perfect excuse to marry my sister? I know you like her.”

“I don’t like her.” 

“You’re in love with her.”

“I don’t—” Jungkook began to deny but Seowon was staring him down. “Fuck you, man. Don’t make me some kind of pervert who’s trying to lock her into marriage because he likes her. You’re the one who brought the idea up.”

Seowon laughed out loud. “I know, I just can’t believe you’d agree. It’ll benefit ____, that’s for sure—you, on the other hand? It’s career suicide.”

He shrugged. “I’m okay with the thought that she’ll be okay.”

“Because you love her, man.” Seowon pushed. “Why on earth would you consider this if you weren’t? It’s a fraudulent marriage. You’ll be thrown in the brig and be dishonorably discharged if you get caught.”

“We don’t even know if she’ll agree to this whole thing. You said it yourself, she would never say yes.”

“Yeah, unless maybe you’re the one who tries to persuade her.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to buy her a ring and kneel down before her or something?”

“That can work.”

“What?” Jungkook laughed.

Seowon raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how she’s been crushing on you since we were kids.”

He barked out a laugh again. That he knew; it was impossible not to when a lot of friends and cousins kept on teasing you before, especially at instances Jungkook was in the very same vicinity. “We’re not kids anymore and I barely see her though.”

“Still, it ought to count to something. It raises the chances of her agreeing.”

“You’re really cool with me marrying your sister, Won?” Jungkook asked.

Seowon placed down the beer bottle he’s consuming on the counter. “Yeah. You’re a good guy. You’re not perfect, but I know you enough to know that you won’t do anything that will purposely hurt her. Besides, if this sham marriage ends up to be a real relationship and then for some reason, you fuck up and decide to break her heart—I’ll easily know what to do, where to find you, and then I’ll do everything I can to fuck you up.”

Jungkook pressed his lips together to stifle a chuckle.

“Noted.”

****

It’s always been a big wonder to you how no matter how long it’s been since you saw each other, it still feels like no time has passed between you and Jungkook. You think that’s why you can never get over him; he always had this comforting and familiar aura that you appreciate—something that you sought for in every other person that you liked. Maybe it was impractical, maybe it was the reason you can never hold a relationship for more than two years, but unless you gain the courage to confront your feelings and tell Jungkook about it, then you constantly dispel any doubts you might have whether this was good for you or not.

You don’t want to lose him. Admitting that you harbored romantic feelings for him would just make it awkward for everyone: your brother, your family, and then his family. You don’t think you can ever trade his smile, the sound of his laughter, and all the good things about him for anything in the world. 

“Are you dating anyone?” he asks.

You choke on your drink, having just poured yourself and Jungkook a glass of water after the server arrived with the pitcher. You’re in a Japanese restaurant near the university, aware that the cuisine was a favorite for the both of you hence why it’s what you recommended when he asked where you wanted to dine. The place is packed with people from the workforce and students; you’re thankful that you don’t see any of your students within the mix.

“We’re getting straight to it, huh?” you say.

Jungkook smirks. “I’m just making sure I’m not upsetting a boyfriend by meeting you tonight.”

“Don’t worry, you’re not upsetting anyone.”

He nods in understanding. You don’t want to add more meaning to his actions for the evening but he seems glad about the information.

“How about you?” you ask back. “Are you dating anyone?”

The ends of his mouth lift a bit upwards. “Nope.”

“Why? You don’t have the time for it?”

“Precisely.”

“It must be really hard dating when you’re in the Navy then.”

“Kinda. We’re away a lot and stationed in different places most of the time. It can get really dangerous for us too and people don’t like the stress that comes with that.”

 You bob. “Does it get lonely?”

“Sometimes, but when you’re on duty, you don’t get to think about those things.” He chuckles. “Besides, I don’t know if this sounds fucked up or not—but it can get exciting. Flying a plane can be fun, you know. Not to mention that it helps when you’re surrounded by good men in your squadron.”

“You’ve always been an adrenaline junkie.”

“And you’ve always been a scaredy-cat.”

You scoff at the declaration. “No, I’m not.”

“Remember when Seowon and I forced you to ride that ship in the amusement park that sways left to right and as it goes on it falls from a higher standpoint?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But you do, and Jungkook knows you do, it’s evident by how your expression is trying to feign innocence. That memory is your villain origin story; the whole pretext of why you refuse to ever visit the amusement park or ride an exhilarating ride again. Yet you can’t help but recall that it’s one of the rare instances wherein you got to hold Jungkook’s hand when you two were younger, as his hand was the one you were clinging for dear life when it happened while the other was too busy slapping Seowon in irritation.

He snickers, appearing like he’s replaying the scene in his head. “We should do that again with Seowon during my break.”

“Hell no.”

“I thought you weren’t a scaredy-cat?” He challenges.

“I’m not.” You give him a kittenish glare. “But I am busy. I have to send the final manuscript of this book I’m editing to the chief editor next week and it’s about to be finals week for my students as well.”

He fakes a shiver. “I don’t know how you can do two jobs like that, ____. Truly.”

“You work as a naval aviator so I’d say we’re pretty even.”

The waiter arrives with your orders not long after, and you and Jungkook carry on with your conversation, jumping from topic to topic without difficulty. You’re not certain when was the last time you saw each other like this to have so much to talk about—was it last Christmas? Or was it more recent or longer than that? Nevertheless, it feels good and you find yourself blushing multiple times throughout the night, whether it’s because of how his words can have two meanings or how his eyes are staring at you so intensely whenever you’re the one who’s talking.

You like the undivided attention, the back and forth that’s occurring as you discourse, the subtle touches one of you does when something funny arises, how your knees are touching underneath the table. You wonder what’s so different with this encounter that the energy feels so bizarre in a good way? As far as you’re concerned, you’re positive that you’re acting like you always have in his presence—lively, smiley, sarcastic—and aside from the little touches of flirting here and there, Jungkook’s acting like he always has too.

When dinner was done, Jungkook offered to drive you home. You obliged, no longer in the mood to annoy him for you were tired to make the effort. Before stepping outside the restaurant however, you excused yourself to the restroom first, checking your blood sugar with the glucose meter you brought along wherever you went. It’s a hassle but it’s necessary, largely because you’re still in the middle of saving up for the insulin pump that would help you regulate your sugar levels easier.

After administering yourself with the insulin injection you have, you spend a few more seconds inside the enclosed room. You should be past the point of feeling sorry for yourself, but it’s times like this wherein you’re with a loved one that the dejection hits and you wish that you’re in a better predicament than you are right now. You’re close to being broke, you’re overworked, you’re somehow fatigued all the fucking time—those factors aren’t soothing your worries at all. It’s a miracle how you manage to keep an optimistic mind amidst everything.

“Ready to go?” Jungkook smiles at you once you’re back at the table and you nod, clutching your bag tighter against your body and following him to his car.

He drives you to your place, turning the radio on, and letting it play while the both of you sit in silence. You’re both tired and you almost even sleep during the ride. It’s only when Jungkook gently shakes you awake that you realize that you’ve arrived in front of your apartment building.

“I’ll walk you up,” he insists as you’re unbuckling the seatbelt. 

“That’s no need, Kook.”

“Of course, it is,” he says. “I’ll walk you up. That’s nonnegotiable.”

So, you allow him.

It takes five minutes tops to reach the door leading to your apartment. As you rummage through your bag to grab your keys, Jungkook patiently stands there, occasionally glancing around the hallway and even smiling when the old lady that resided in the same floor got out of her room to throw out the trash. He receives a smile in return which you notice and grin fondly at.

“Well, this is me.” You turn to him, done unlocking your door. “I’d invite you inside but you should probably get going. It’s quite a long drive back home.”

“Yeah.” He breathes out a chuckle. “Hey, tonight was fun. It made me realize how I missed you.”

Your brain temporarily malfunctions; you force yourself to recover quickly. “Me too. I had fun tonight. Maybe we should do this again whenever you’re on a break.”

“Agreed.”

You flash him a smile. “You can go now. Goodnight.”

Jungkook nods, however doesn’t move a muscle. He’s looking at you, like really looking at you, his eyes moving from one feature to another, as if he’s memorizing your face or having a hard time arranging the words he wants to say. You guess it’s the latter, familiar with a tongue-tied Jungkook that it takes you a few good seconds before you’re demanding why he’s impersonating a mannequin.

“There’s something I want to say,” that’s what he utters and you almost snort due to your assumption being right.

“Okay…” The smile is still on your lips. “What is it?”

“Promise me you won’t get mad first.”

“Well, if you’re making me promise that then it’s probably worth being mad about.”

“It’s not as bad as you think.”

“That’s not convincing at all.”

“It’s just…” He begins and trails, biting his lower lip, “it’s… it’s why I went here. Why I went here to see and meet you, I mean.”

You unconsciously recoil at the revelation. It’s certainly a rookie mistake to believe that there was no ulterior motive in Jungkook meeting you today. You just didn’t reckon you’d actually be truly disappointed at that—at the idea that he just didn’t randomly decide to visit and be with you earlier until now.

You draw a long breath. “Well, I knew you weren’t just feeling generous and wanted to treat me to dinner out of nowhere.”

There’s a pause and then he resumes. “Just—before I say it, you have to hear me out, okay? You have to let me explain before you berate me.”

“I can’t promise that either.”

“You have to.”

“Why do I have to?”

“Because what I’m about to say is for your own sake. You know I always have your best interest at heart, don’t you?”

You wrinkle your forehead in further confusion. “Can you just get on with it? The vagueness is making me more annoyed.”

“I just don’t want you to misunderstand.”

“Misunderstand what?”

“What I—and Seowon—genuinely think is the best option.”

“Oh, and Seowon is in on this too?” You bellow. “Have you and Seowon just been conspiring behind my back the whole time?”

“Calm down.” Jungkook puts his hands on your shoulders, a chuckle inevitably escaping him. “I’m sorry for dragging it out. You should know I’m high key afraid of you, that’s why.”

“You should be.” You grumble.

Another chuckle, but he’s back to appearing anxious. You want to shout that this isn’t healthy, that you’re close to giving him a real reason to be afraid of you—yet once he blurts the confession out, you’re speechless, gawking at him and staggering backwards in complete shock. Perhaps you would have bolted as far away from him as possible if not for his solid grasp.

“What?” You hiss.

He swallows hard.

“I want you to marry me, ____.”

You don’t bolt away running. You shake off his hold on you though, and before he gets another word in, you’re hastily rushing inside your apartment and slamming the door to his face.

****

Jungkook was your first kiss.

It happened in a game of truth and dare. You were at a party of a mutual friend and when the bottle miserably pointed in Jungkook’s direction, the person who was tasked to think of his dare when it was his pick said that he dared him to do 7 minutes in heaven with you. 

He profusely refused at first, especially since Seowon was in the same party, but everybody began booing and next thing you know, Jungkook was agreeing as long as it was fine with you. When you nodded to make your consent apparent, your friends were quick to shove you both in the closet, some of them pulling Seowon back who was complaining how it wasn’t right to bully you into doing 7 minutes in heaven with Jungkook. They calmed him down once they bullied him into agreeing too.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Jungkook told you in the darkness, his breath fawning over your face. “You don’t have to feel pressured. It’s just a stupid game.”

You blushed.

Secretly, you were hoping that he’d kiss you or touch you. Who didn’t want to do anything with their crush at the age of 15? A lot can happen in 7 minutes. You were aware that sometimes people made out, went as far as third base, and although you didn’t want to go that far with Jungkook, you wanted something to happen while you were stuck in this small closet with him. There weren’t a lot of instances that put both of you in this kind of situation; you wished that you were brave enough to ask him to kiss you or do the first move yourself.

5 minutes in, Jungkook turned towards you.

“Is it true that Taehyung kissed you last week?”

You whipped your head so fast that you might have given yourself whiplash. “That’s—that’s not true. Where did you hear that?”

“During homeroom. Some girls were talking about it.”

Your cheeks burned. “Oh.”

“So, it’s not true?”

“No.” You shook your head. “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.” You laughed weakly.

It was his turn to seem stunned. “You haven’t had your first kiss yet?”

You shook your head again, then realized he might not see you doing so. “Not yet.”

“Want me to change that?” he asked, grinning.

He said that with a boyish grin and teasing tone, but you sucked at social cues (plus, you really couldn’t see shit that much) that you started nodding.

“Okay,” you told him.

“Huh?”

“You can kiss me.”

“Oh, oh, shit—I didn’t—” He was blabbering, about to take back what he offered. “I mean, I was just joking but—”

You widen your eyes. “You were? Oh my God, I’m sorry, I thought you were—”

“No, it was my fault. That was a little out of line for me. I’m sorry.” He was laughing and you felt like burying yourself 6 feet under. “It was a stupid thing to say. But if you want me to kiss you, it’s cool.”

“It is?” Hope sparked within you.

“Yeah. It’ll just be a peck anyway.” You can tell he was smiling through his voice. “Just don’t tell Seowon because he might punch me in the face for kissing his sister.”

You cackled. “Deal.”

56 seconds before the 7 minutes were up, Jungkook leaned down to match your level and placed his lips on yours. 

****

You’re seething with rage, the embodiment of Godzilla, channeling the God of War, Ares, in your body; you harshly press Seowon’s number on your phone to call him and he answers after three rings.

“What’s up?”

“I will fucking murder you,” you snarl.

A beat. You hear shuffling. Then he answers, “you already talked with Jungkook?”

The nonchalance and calmness in his voice drives you to be more frustrated than you already are. “Yes, I have! What is wrong with you? Why would you plant that idea on his head?” You yell, not caring that your walls are thin and that your voice can probably be heard by the couple that lived next door. You’re feeling a mixture of anger, embarrassment, and every negative emotion that exists at the moment. You’re comparable to a bull who just saw the color red.

“____, it won’t be a big deal if you don’t make it to be.”

“Are you hearing yourself right now?”

“Did you even let Jungkook explain?”

“I don’t need him to spell everything out. I know why he’s asking me to marry him.”

“Then you know too that it’d be good for you.”

“Marrying him won’t be good for me.”

“Why not?”

“It just won’t!”

“You’ll get health insurance benefits that you don’t get with your current jobs. You can pay less rent once you move in at Jungkook’s place—there’s a huge chance he won’t even let you pay him while you stay there too. He’s away most of the time anyway, so staying there wouldn’t be a problem. Plus, you can start studying for a masters degree like you’ve always wanted.”

You groan. “Not like this. This is crazy.”

“The both of you can divorce once you’ve saved up a little. It really isn’t that complicated.”

“It’s a sham marriage!”

“It’s a sham marriage with Jungkook.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

“Are you sure? Your grade school diary might disagree.”

“Oh my God, that’s fucking low of you to bring that up. You just gave me another reason to hate you.” You stomp around the living room, acting like a teenager because of your brother’s behavior. This isn’t the first time he revealed that he’s read your diary before; that doesn’t mean it’s less infuriating to be reminded that he has. “I swear, you better fucking sleeping with one eye open tonight. I’m choking you to death.”

Seowon laughs out loud. “Just marry him. He’s surprisingly amicable with the idea.”

“That’s because you’re pressuring him! I bet you and Mom devised this entire thing together.”

“Mom doesn’t know. To be fair, she’d probably have the same reaction as you. It’s all me and Jungkook.”

“Wow. You have two brains and yet none of you thought this was goddamn stupid?”

“It’s not stupid. It’s genius if you come to think of it,” he says. “Jungkook just wants to help you, dude. He wants to make sure you’ll be okay and all that shit. You’re the reason he filed for a two-week leave, did he tell you?”

Your heart does that jumping thing again. “No.”

“Well, he did. He’s on a break for two weeks because he wants to convince you to marry him and actually marry you within that time frame.”

“This is nuts.” You sigh, finally flopping down the sofa and rubbing your face with your free hand. “The both of you are nuts. How are you okay with this?”

“It’s Jungkook. I trust him. Don’t you?”

“Of course, I do, I just—” you cut yourself off and frown, “I just feel like it’s unfair for him. I’m marrying him because of military spouse benefits and what does he get?”

There’s a long pause, and you almost check your phone to see whether Seowon has already hung up on you or not.

“It’s better that Jungkook answers that question,” he tells you finally.

“Why? You can’t answer it on behalf of him?”

“Something like that.” You can imagine him shrugging. “All I know is that he’s genuinely concerned about your health and your financial status right now. So, just think about it, okay?”

“God, fuck it, fine. I’ll think about it.” You grimace.

You hang up and glance at the door.

You don’t think the conversation you just had with Seowon took that much time. The initial rush you had upon having your longtime crush propose to you is wearing off and you’re realizing that it was a dick move to literally slam the door right in Jungkook’s face earlier, leading you to stand up from your seat and look through the peephole to check if he’s still there.

He isn’t, which you sigh in relief at.

As you lean against the door and regulate your breathing, you think how funny it is that Seowon is right about one thing—and that was grade school you would have been delighted at the thought of getting married to Jungkook. He’s your dream guy; your parents loved him, his parents loved you, the both of you got along very well, and his personality and looks are everything that you’re looking for in a partner. It sucks that you live in a world where the only reason he wants to marry you is because he’s afraid you’ll die because of self-neglect. 

Your phone pings and you unlock the screen to look at the message that flashes on it.

Jungkook: hey, seowon just messaged me to say that you two already talked Jungkook: i’m sorry for jumping on you with a topic like that… Jungkook: i’m shit at confrontation lol Jungkook: also it’s the first time i’m proposing so give me some slack

You scoff at his audacity to joke about it this soon.

You: it’s okay You: i’m sorry too for what i did You: the answer is no btw

Jungkook: already??? Jungkook: let’s talk about it first

You: no need You: i don’t want to marry you

Jungkook: oof that’s harsh

You: sorry not sorry?

He doesn’t respond and you think you’re safe. Maybe Jungkook does take no for an answer and you’re confused because you’re a little disappointed that he’s not falling on his knees, begging you to marry him like what your imagination is supplying you.

However, after you took a shower and went to check your phone again, you see that Jungkook messaged you a few minutes ago in response to your last message.

Jungkook: give me 10 days and i’ll change your mind

You have the urge to go take a shower again because of how hot your body is feeling at the statement.

You: hate to break it to you but you’re not matthew mcconaughey

Jungkook: 🤣🤣🤣

****

It’s not part of Jungkook’s branding to chase a woman. Typically, women chase him; they chase him in every city and country that he gets stationed in, flirting with him and hoping that they’ll get the chance to take him home for the night for a mindblowing one-night stand. They never succeed though, for despite their pretty faces and sultry gestures, Jungkook only smiles and declines every offer, saying that he had a girl waiting back home that he loved very much.

He used to think that he only used that as an excuse because he’s not the type to hook up with every attractive girl he meets. There are times when he succumbs, when he gives into the temptation of a little fun, especially after a life threatening or highly stressful mission—but most of the time, he thinks he declines and use that pronouncement of his because his mind reverts him to the idea of you, to what would happen if he just gained the balls to ask you out.

Evidently, although asking you out and asking you to marry him are two completely different things, he’s a bit afraid that your answer will always be a hard no. It’s what you’ve been literally spelling out to him since the day he presented the idea, regardless of how he’s trying his best in swooning you or explaining how this is the perfect plan to help you gain an upper hand with your diagnosis.

“I’ll file a restraining order against you, I’m serious,” you say to him when he appears yet again outside the faculty room, waiting for you to gather your things and head home. You’re wearing a white button up shirt and pinstripe wide leg trousers, an outfit combination that he ogles at before he goes down to business.

“You wouldn’t.” He glares at you. He gestures for you to let him take your backpack, and despite what you said, you let him. “Also, what the fuck is in this thing? You’ll break your back if you keep using this.” He swings your backpack on one shoulder.

You laugh. “My laptop, its charger, a couple of notebooks, books, pens, then the outputs of my students.”

“Aren’t they supposed to submit virtually? What happened to Google Classroom?”

“I still use it, but sometimes I like to have their work printed out so I can write the comments better. How do you know Google Classroom?”

“I have a squadronmate whose kid uses it for class.”

“Ah.” You nod in understanding.

You two continue walking forward.

This has been your program for the past few days. Jungkook goes to the university you work at, he’ll wait outside, you’ll threaten him with something ridiculous, he’ll take your bag, he’ll offer to take you to dinner, you’ll decline, and then he’ll drive you home anyways. Before that routine ends, he’ll lean on your door frame and give you his best puppy eyes, asking you to marry him for the sake of your welfare, and you’ll scowl at him, insisting that you don’t need his help to survive.

“Dinner?” he asks, right on schedule.

You glance at him. “No. I want to go home and sleep for 12 hours.”

“Busy day?”

“Yep.”

“You know, if you marry me, you won’t have to work two jobs and overexert yourself.”

He doesn’t need to turn to you to know that you’re giving him a dirty look. “I won’t marry you, Jungkook.”

“Why not?”

“Because marriage doesn’t work that way.”

“It does. Billionaires do it all the time. The mafia does it too. It’s always been some kind of transaction.”

“Well, if I marry you, what do you get?”

“The assurance you’re taken care of.”

“That’s cheesy.”

You share a laugh and he grins.

“It’s true,” he says. “I’ll be fine as long as you are.”

He waits for you to quip back a reply, flickering his eyes to you when it takes longer than usual. Instead of the sneer he’s expecting, you appear to be flustered, an expression that is very recognizable for him who’s known you since forever—an expression that makes it too obvious for Jungkook that the crush you had on him that he thought has been long gone was still there. He’s been seeing it a lot lately, particularly when he’s uttering lines that sound flirtatious on purpose; he’s positive that you’ll threaten to kill him when you discover that he basks on the fact that he can still make you all flustered and cute, which encourages him to do and say anything that would elicit a reaction from you. Was it unethical to seduce you into marrying him? He might have to rethink that part too.

Reaching the parking lot, he unlocks the doors to his vehicle and places your bag inside the backseat. He watches you walk around the car, about to go to the passenger’s side, but then you wobble a bit and his attempt to get inside is instantly forgotten.

“Hey,” he strides to where you are, gazing at you as you now hold onto the hood, “you alright?”

You raise your chin up. “Kook, can you get my bag?”

Jungkook doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s swinging the door again and getting your bag from the other end of the backseat while you get on the passenger’s seat, keeping the door wide and placing your legs outside, your feet planted on the concrete.

“What do you need?” he asks, crouching in front of you and zipping the bag open.

“Glucometer.”

He halts. “What does that look like?”

“It’s in the yellow bag. There.” You point at it right when he rummages through a certain part.

He brings it out and you take it from his grasp. Your movements are sluggish but he can discern that you’re doing your best not to be too slow; he’d present to help but he knows that he might prolong what you’re doing due to his cluelessness, so he just observes, noting how you’re pricking your finger with a device and then pressing it lightly to the glucometer which shows that your blood sugar is low.

“Apple juice,” you mutter to him and he finds it faster than the last one.

You grab the juice pouch from his grasp, prying the straw attached on the back, pushing its end for it to pop out of its plastic cover—then your hand shakes, preventing you from continuing and punching in the straw properly.

“Let me do it,” he says.

You don’t fight him, you just slump against the seat as Jungkook picks up from where you left, and the moment he does the job and guides the straw to your awaiting lips, a long exhale through your nose escapes you.

“How are you feeling?” he whispers. He didn’t notice that he was holding his breath the entire duration of the scene.

Another sigh. “Better.”

“Does this happen a lot?”

You seem to hesitate. “Not a lot. Just when life gets a bit too hectic.”

“____—”

“Just take me home.” You don’t give him the chance to lecture you. “Please, Jungkook.”

Defeated, he nods. “Alright.”

“Thank you.”

He helps you position yourself properly on the passenger’s seat. “But we’re talking about this at your place.”

Before you can protest, he closes the door.

****

Lee Hyunwoo was the name of the guy that you brought home for Christmas Eve eight years ago. It was the first time that you did, and Jungkook hated how Hyunwoo was considerably handsome, intelligent, and kind—the exact kind of person he always imagined you deserved.

In the short time Hyunwoo spent with theirs and your family that night, everybody loved him and was already inviting him to the next gathering, all the while Jungkook avoided him at every cost, puzzled by this strong dislike he was feeling for your guest. He was annoyed at the manner in which Hyunwoo had an arm around your waist the entire evening, how you grinned up to him, eyes sparkling and all that shit. Hell, you used to look at him like that.

“Honey, can you get the mango float we have in our freezer?” Jungkook heard your mother tell you, and without thinking, he stood up from his chair and made a beeline to where you were, telling you he’d accompany you to your house.

“That’s fine,” you told him. “It’s literally next door.”

“Yeah, but it might be heavy.”

“It’s not.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

You rolled your eyes and agreed then, excusing yourself from Hyunwoo who was in an engaged conversation with Seowon. The pair were geeking out because of their mutual love for the MCU and the next film slated to be released the following year.

Upon arriving at your home, you dashed to the kitchen with Jungkook trudging behind you. He wasn’t sure what his next course of action should be now; all he wanted was some alone time with you, away from the presence of that college boyfriend of yours, but now that he had that, he couldn’t think of anything that he wanted to say or do. He wasn’t even sure why he was feeling a bit jealous—was it because of that saying? Wherein people are bound to want what they can’t have? Or was it that you only appreciate what you had when you’ve already lost it?

“How long have you and Hyunwoo been dating?” he asked, leaning against the counter as you pulled your freezer open.

“Four months, I think.”

“Four months? And you already brought him home?”

You snorted at his tone. “His family is in another country so I thought it’d be nice to invite him.”

“You must really like him then.”

“Yeah, but I’m not in love with him or anything.” You placed the mango float on the space beside Jungkook on the counter. “He’s nice, and he likes me too.”

“Does he treat you well?”

You flashed your eyes at him, amusement dancing in them. “What’s with that question?”

“What’s with it?”

“Nothing, it’s just that…” you trailed, a smirk etched on your face. “Wait a minute, are you… you can’t possibly—” Jungkook was widening his eyes, ready to deny your accusation once you questioned whether he was jealous of Hyunwoo or not— “are you pulling an overprotective brother skit on me, Kook?”

Fuck, thank God, he thought.

“I prefer ‘overprotective friend skit’,” he said.

“That doesn’t have a nice ring to it.”

“But I’m not your brother.”

“You don’t have to be, I’m just saying that you and Seowon have been acting similar since Hyunwoo and I arrived.”

“Nonsense. Seowon likes him.”

“Oh, so you don’t?”

He pressed his lips into a tight line.

“Did you just admit that you don’t like Hyunwoo?” you asked, chuckling. He was grateful that you didn’t seem to be offended by it.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like him.”

“Instead you implied it.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You kinda did.”

He heard you laugh and he couldn’t help but allow himself to laugh as well.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “Maybe I’m just not used to you dating anyone. You are chronically single.”

“Can’t say you’re wrong.” You snorted and picked up from the mango float, marching back to his house and gesturing for him to follow you.

He did, no words spoken between the both of you once more. Though when you were entering their place again, with Jungkook holding the door open for you, he mentioned something he never reckoned he’d have the guts to mention out loud.

“When you open my gift,” he began, “don’t do it in front of Hyunwoo, okay?”

“Why not?” You weren’t paying attention to where you were going, intrigued by his warning.

“He might not like it. You’ll see.”

That night, at the comfort of your bedroom, Hyunwoo nowhere near but instead sleeping at the coach downstairs in your living room, you opened Jungkook’s gift and saw that it was a necklace with your birth flower as its pendant.

You smiled, rolling your eyes to yourself, and slept with that giddy look never leaving your face.

****

“Not so fast,” Jungkook grunts.

Did he think that you were going to be less difficult since he was helpful earlier? Yeah, he did. He likes to think that if it wasn’t for him, you would have taken longer in feeding yourself with apple juice, so he at least wanted a thank you in the form of your willingness to have an adult conversation with him tonight. However, that clearly isn’t the case because when he walked you up to your apartment like he always did, you’re attempting to lock him out, shutting the door as fast as you can once you’re inside, thus trying to prevent him from initiating that talk he wanted the two of you to have.

“Seriously?” He successfully pries the door open and you scowl at him.

“Jungkook—”

“No, you don’t get to reason your way out of this. I’m done hearing you out. It’s your turn to listen to me.” He steps inside your apartment.

You groan, striding to the sofa and throwing your bag there. “You can’t force me to marry you.”

“Is marrying me so fucking bad that you can’t get over it for health insurance benefits that can really help you?” He demands, infuriated. 

“That’s not the issue.”

“Then what is?”

“You can get arrested!” you exclaim. “And so can I! Does that not freak you out?”

“We’ll only get arrested if we get caught.”

“I’m not willing to take the risk.”

“I’m not willing to see you die.”

You scoff out a laugh. “Who the fuck said anything about dying? I’m not dying.”

“You almost passed out on me. You almost—”

“It’s an error on my part, I admit.” You sigh. “When I get busy and preoccupied, sometimes I forget to check my sugar levels regularly throughout the day. I’m sorry.”

“And you expect to be convinced that you have everything handled?”

“God, I’m not a child. Stop treating me like I can’t do shit for myself.”

“Please, ___,” he approaches you with the most pleading expression he can muster, and he watches as your hard expression crumbles, “just accept my help. It’s really not a big deal—you won’t even see me often, so keeping up with the whole marriage ploy wouldn’t be difficult. We’ll divorce in two years, we can pretend we never got married after that.”

“You just don’t get it, don’t you?”

“What do I not get? If you think I don’t understand something, then explain it to me—”

“I can’t marry you,” you say. You do so like it’s final, like there’s no point in arguing with you because he can never change your stand on this. As he’s pleading with his eyes to urge you to agree, you’re communicating with your eyes in a similar way that’s wishing he would just drop this. “It’s wrong.”

His eyebrows furrow. “This isn’t the time to go on your high horse and decide what’s wrong and what’s not. It’s a fraudulent marriage—of course, it’ll be wrong to some degree.”

“No, I mean…” You turn away from him, rubbing your face in exhaustion. “It’d be wrong of me to marry you. I’m taking advantage of you if I do, and I don’t like that.”

Jungkook shakes his head, frustration worsening at the childlike excuse. Surely, you weren’t that naive, were you? “You’re not. I’m not doing this against my own will. Besides, we get extra pay just for being married. If it makes you feel better, I won’t split it with you.”

“That won’t make me feel better.”

“Then what will?”

You flop down on the coach and lean back, closing your eyes. He knows he’s being a pain in the ass but he can’t just stand here and do nothing. He thinks he’s already come too far in convincing you, he isn’t going to back out now. Every single day spent together, he can feel you warming up to the idea of marrying him for health insurance. Your connection and entirety of your relationship has been off the charts recently that it’ll be harder for him not to be assured that before he leaves for his job, you’ll be taken care off.

Jungkook goes to the spot beside you, sitting down. Your knees bump together, he keeps on gazing at you, waiting for you to focus on him; a minute passes and his gaze moves to your hand that’s laying on the small space between you.

Without overthinking, he stretches out and clasps it, allowing his fingers to play with yours that finally captures your attention. The moment he glances up, he sees that you’re staring at him and he doesn’t let go, he even smiles, a quiet promise that he’s always willing to listen to whatever you want to tell him.

You hesitantly smile back. “You know,” your eyes train back to your intertwined fingers, Jungkook reveling in the warmth of your skin, gaining more confidence in acting out his feelings, “there was a time wherein I would have said yes immediately if you asked me to marry you.”

He smirks, can’t deny how hearing that inflates his ego a bit although this route in the conversation isn’t where he expected to go. “What changed?”

“For one, I grew up.”

“Ouch.”

You laugh. Then you stay quiet for a while before speaking. “Can I confess something?”

That piques his interest. “Anything.”

“But you have to promise not to make fun of me.”

“That’s impossible.” He teases. “What is it?”

You stall, readjusting your position so that you can directly face him. Jungkook doesn’t let go of your hand, he keeps it in his grasp, his thumb rubbing along the expanse of your knuckles.

“I like you, Jungkook. I really really do,” you finally say and he blinks, startled.

It shouldn’t surprise him, considering that it’s been long established that he knew of your crush already, though he doesn’t seem to have anticipated for you to boldly admit it when all these years, it’s only been some kind of unspoken understanding that neither of you downright acknowledged.

You continue speaking. “In fact, I like you so much that maybe it developed into love at some point—I’m not sure. I’m at this stage of no longer being afraid of what I feel, I think? Most of the time, I just let it occur like it’s something so natural. Like it’s a feeling that I can never get away from? Like whatever I do, there’s no way to shake you.” You chuckle half-heartedly. “Though never in a million years would I have thought that I’d confess all of this. What for anyway? I don’t want you to be burdened with what my teenage heart couldn’t rub out.”

His mind is racing; hundred thoughts, hundred scenarios, hundred experiences he’s spent with you since the day you met. Jungkook never realized how much he needed you to say that you liked him—that maybe you even loved him—until he heard it from your very mouth that you did, causing every inhibition and doubt he had to vanish. Now, he only wants to engulf you in an embrace and shout Yes, I feel the same way! Sorry for being a fucking corward and not doing this first!

He would have done all of that in a flash if it didn’t appear that you still had something to say. Based on your rather constipated posture and the hand he’s holding that’s becoming clammy, he discerns that you’re just in the first part of what you wanted to admit.

“Actually, that’s also why I can’t let myself marry you,” you say. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I don’t know… it feels really icky somehow. I feel like I’m holding you hostage, or that I’m tricking you because of an ulterior motive, or that I’m defying the laws of the universe by having the chance to marry you. I’m not sure. I just know that I don’t want to marry you if it means I’ll only get to do so because you think you’re doing me a huge favor. I don’t want to be your charity case, Kook—I deserve to be more than that, you know? I’m not traditional or whatever but if it’s not for love, I’m not keen on getting married.” You abruptly pull away from his clutch, embarrassment washing on your features by what you stated. “Plus, two years might not be that long but what happens when you meet someone and you like her? How can you explain that you’re only married to me because I need it for my medication? It’ll just be unnecessarily messy. I don’t want to hold you back from those kinds of things. I don’t want to be a hindrance.”

That’s his cue. That’s when he knows he’s supposed to kiss you and take your breath away, to admit that he’s certain that he has loved you since that one time when he was in the Naval Academy and although the training was hard as fuck, the thought of you gave him strength and he didn’t want to see anyone as much as he wanted to see you after—that when you and Seowon visited him, that familiar urge to have you alone was all he felt the entire time, solidifying the idea that perhaps he didn’t just see you as a friend.

“You’re unbelievably dense, ___,” he murmurs, smirking at the play of events, and you glance at him, expression showing disbelief that he’s somehow treating this matter lightly.

“What?”

“Do you honestly think I go around and offer marriage to every woman out there who can benefit from being a military spouse? Do you think I’m that generous? I’m not. I wouldn’t ask anyone to marry me for the same reason if they weren’t important to me—or if I didn’t like them. I’m not that much of a saint,” he adds. “I mean, I’m taking a two-week break to convince you to marry me. I’m spending time with you every single day. I’m driving for almost an hour and a half, enduring the traffic to get from my apartment to the university you work in to do that—and you think this is because I want to be charitable?”

Silence. Your forehead wrinkles. He thinks you’re still not getting the point.

“I’m in love with you, ____,” Jungkook says.

Your breath hitches in your throat. You’re opening your mouth, then closing it, then opening it again, then pressing it into a thin line. He thinks you look cute, being taken aback like this, and he’s wishing that he’s done this sooner so that the last five days of him chasing you around like a lost puppy was spent with talking more about what’s possibly waiting for yours and his relationship next.

“Are you serious?” you ask after what seems like forever. “Or are you just saying that because you’re that desperate to have me on board with the whole fraudulent marriage thing?”

“God—” He’s inching closer to you now, laughing, watching your lips twitch at his reaction— “I’m convinced that you were born into this earth to drive me fucking crazy.”

And just like that, he no longer restrains himself from kissing you.

It takes you a few good seconds before you will yourself to move. You can’t seem to process the reality of Jungkook admitting that he was in love with you and then taking the liberty to plant his lips on yours. You’re not complaining, of course, but you are a bit overwhelmed that it literally makes you freeze, unaware of what you’re supposed to do now that your fantasies are coming into life.

However, once you feel him angle his head to the side, doing so to deepen the kiss, your reflexes kick in and you’re kissing him back, encircling your arms around his neck and leaning towards him, Jungkook sighing in what appears to be relief. He grips your hips to support you as you try to straddle him, but your movements are so clumsy that you end up sprawling against his chest instead, perched on a leg of his that provides pleasure on the spot you need him the most. He chuckles at your lack of gracefulness, gliding his lips to your cheek and down to your jaw, nipping.

“This okay?” he whispers with a palm drifting to your bottom.

You nod and Jungkook’s mouth is back on yours in an instant. He squeezes your ass, takes his time in fondling with it, cheekily slapping whenever you get brave yourself and push your tongue past his lips, before he skims his hand lower to your thigh and signals for you to mount him. Upon being properly sat on his lap, you get an immediate feel of his hard length through his jeans, prompting your imagination to run wild and induce the filthiest things he can do to you if neither of you stops.

“Holy shit,” he curses, your kisses roaming to the base of his throat where you lap and suck.

It becomes a dirty pattern for a while. The both of you will take a brief pause from making out to remove a piece of clothing or kiss every other exposed skin there is: the cheek, the jaw, the neck, the collarbones, the shoulders. Then one of you hauls the other back for another passionate kiss, hands skating everywhere on your bodies, sounds of arousal echoing inside the room; you’re starting to get lightheaded but you’re positive it’s not because of your sugar levels running low.

“I hate that it took us so long to get to this point,” he mutters.

You grin. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m the man—I should have confessed long ago.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know. ‘Was afraid to lose you, I guess.” He draws his head back and admires your blissed out expression. “But then when Seowon told me you had diabetes, I panicked and thought that I might lose you either way.”

You go back to making out, Jungkook guiding your hips in grinding on his clothed length. It’s addictive—the intimate feel of him, how he’s not shy in making sure you know how much he’s craving to be as close to you as you are to him. You think you can spend the whole night just doing this and be okay with it.

“Fuck, Kook,” you groan against his mouth, a hand descending to his stomach and to his manhood, “you’re so… so fuckin’ hard.”

You’re palming him now, tracing the erection evident under his boxers.

He lets out a grunt. “Yeah, baby, I know.”

“Do you… do you want me—” You’re breathless, not able to continue whatever it is that you want to say.

He understands you just fine though. “No.” He shakes his head. “Don’t do anything.”

You’re not sure what Jungkook means by that. How are you supposed to do nothing when you want to do everything to him? You soon comprehend what he means when he guides you to lay down on the sofa, when his lips skim lower and lower, passing your breasts, giving them the attention they deserve, until he goes lower than that and discards your underwear, kissing you in between your legs.

It’s like he’s releasing all the pent up emotions he’s been keeping all these years. His tongue and fingers are relentless, his voice is telling you that he’s eager to coax an orgasm out of you, and as he lifts himself up to return to his previous position, face hovering yours, you’re positive that he’ll get everything he wants because without a doubt you’ll give him everything he wants from you too. Hell, if he uses this opportunity to ask you to marry him again, you might answer yes straight away, no longer bearing in mind the worries you expressed to him earlier.

Although did that even matter anymore? Jungkook said he loved you. He said you drove him crazy. You never thought you’d come to see the day he’d utter those words but here you are. The man of your dreams is kissing you, pleasing you, and looking damn enthusiastic as he does all of that.

“Last chance to stop me,” Jungkook teases. His eyes are glassy and you can feel his cock nudging on your thigh.

You giggle, bringing his head closer to press another long kiss on those pink and plump lips of his. “Please never stop.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“I’m going to take you up on that.”

“Please do.”

After this night, you’re certain that you’ll never allow yourself to be with another man aside from Jungkook. At the back of your head, you always thought that you were his, regardless if that wasn’t true or that there was no real relationship to prove that—however, at this moment, as he thrusts in and out languidly, you unquestionably know that you are. You belong to him now and he belongs to you; he lets you know through his love-filled gaze, his passionate kisses, and the manner wherein he moans your name.

“I love you,” he says, like he’s still in deep longing for your touch and affection.

You hum, tangling your fingers through the strands of his hair. “I love you, Kook.” You stare at his eyes. “I can’t remember a time I didn’t.”

A boyish grin erupts on his features.

Time passes by quickly. In a few more of his kisses, of the intoxicating slam of his hips, of his seductive whimpers, you’re coming beneath him, Jungkook pulling out and jerking his length until he too comes, his seed landing on the base of your tummy. You have the nerve to giggle at that, grinning at him with low-lidded eyes, and Jungkook hastily wipes his cum off your skin, attacking you with another passionate kiss that leaves you breathless.

“There’s no way you’re not marrying me after this,” he murmurs.

You teasingly graze your teeth on his bottom lip. “I’ll think about it.”

He groans. “Don’t think about it. Just say yes.”

“At least let me sleep on it, Kook.”

“Fuck—fine.” He grabs your sides and pulls you flush against his body. “Guess I’ll have to keep on convincing you until you agree.”

****

“God, why is this so difficult?” Jungkook whines, keeping you in his embrace, head tucked between your cheek and shoulder.

The air is very humid and Jungkook’s in his naval aviator uniform, which doesn’t look cool in a sense that air is properly flowing through the material. He doesn’t care though, doesn’t care that it’s sticking to his skin as he refuses to let you go, not even when you complain playfully.

“Kook, I’m fucking sweaty.”

“I don’t care.”

You laugh. 

He’s leaving to return to his duty and you’re here with him outside the base before he enters, being with him until the last possible minute because that’s how much of a good wife you are.

Yes, you and Jungkook did get married. Three days ago in fact, at the city hall’s courtroom. Neither of you invited your parents; they didn’t know about the occasion and you refused to tell them, afraid that they may be critical about yours and his choices when they discover the true reason why you’re rushing to be wed. The only people that remained to be aware of it was Seowon and his girlfriend, Winnie, who served as the witnesses, which was fine by you. In your understanding, this was just for the papers and your health, and not the real deal yet to be celebrated lavishly.

“I’ll propose to you again after a couple of years,” Jungkook promised after the ceremony. “Let’s renew our vows and I’ll give you an amazing wedding.”

You would have told him that there was no need, but who were you kidding? You did want a proper wedding with Jungkook. The previous week didn’t even feel like you were newlyweds. Yes, the both of you compacted all of the dates you could have if one of you weren’t such a chicken in five days, and yes, though the honeymoon stage was experienced and practiced—it was only because you were a new couple who after years of hiding their feelings for one another, was now finally free to express it as much as they desired.

“Call me everyday?” you ask when he finally pulls back, Jungkook pecking your lips one more time.

“Definitely.” He smiles. “Visit me whenever possible?”

“Of course.” You kiss him too.

His smile transforms into a grin. “Take care of yourself, alright? Keep me updated all the time. No sugarcoating allowed.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

Rolling his eyes, he gives you another kiss and engulfs you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground that causes you to giggle.

“Okay, pack it up, love birds!” Seowon shouts.

The two of you turn to your brother who’s leaning on his car, the vehicle that was used to transport the three of you today. You’re still in the middle of moving your belongings at Jungkook’s place and Seowon was kind enough to volunteer helping, always dubious that you could do stuff on your own. Despite your reluctance, you let him assist you, mostly because you’re trying to make a conscious effort in not upsetting him again.

Let’s just say that when the judge hailed you husband and wife at the civil wedding, Seowon wasn’t thrilled to see that the kiss shared between you and Jungkook wasn’t as fake as the supposed sham marriage, leading him to the conclusion that in the middle of Jungkook’s ruse of convincing you to be his wife, something must have happened that led to your approval and that rather 18+ rated kiss. Mostly though, he’s just offended that neither of you thought of telling him that you were an official couple before the wedding.

Jungkook unwillingly places you down.

“I think I need to go,” you say.

He nods with a sigh. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

“Call you tomorrow?”

“Yes.” You affectionately caress his cheek, bringing his face down for the very very very last kiss. 

He leans into it. “Fuck, I don’t want to leave.”

“Seriously—hurry up!” Seowon shouts and you pull back.

“I will kill him,” you tell Jungkook.

“He’s your brother,” he says. “And now, my brother-in-law, so I can’t let you do that.”

“That might be your very first red flag, Jungkook, insinuating that you’re choosing my brother over me.” You cross your arms. “Tell me, if the both of us were drowning, would you save me or Seowon?”

“You,” he answers without missing a beat.

You narrow your eyes. “Is that the truth?”

“Of course. Seowon would probably undrown himself anyway and you’re shit at swimming. It’s an easy choice.”

You punch him hard on the shoulder and he feigns hurt, snickering. “For the record, I don’t think anyone can ‘undrown’ themselves—but fine, you pass the test.”

Jungkook faces Seowon’s direction and does a final salute, your brother returning it swiftly, and just like that, you and him share your last farewells. You watch as he goes through the entrance of the base and sends you a wave of goodbye; you weakly copy the gesture and stand there for a few seconds, just watching him fade from your view the further he trudges inside. You don’t think saying goodbye to him ever felt this heavy, and you blame it on the fact that after all this is the first time you’re saying goodbye to him with the assurance that he loves you too—and that alone weighs millions.

You spin on your heel and go to Seowon who’s already in the driver’s seat. As soon as you get in and wear your seat belt, he’s giving you a dirty look.

“What?” you ask.

“Please never do that in front of me again.”

His statement makes you smirk. “Why? Didn’t you want this?”

“Want what?”

“Me and Jungkook to be together.”

“When on earth did I say that?”

“You previously admitted that you were lowkey playing cupid by suggesting that Jungkook marry me for health insurance.”

A short pause. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I have to watch you two reenact a porno every fucking time.”

“We’re not—”

“You are. Don’t deny it.” He grumbles. “God, every time I see you two, it’s like I’m Ross from that one Friends episode where he accidentally sees Monica and Chandler doing it from the window of his apartment.”

“Yeah, I remember that.” You laugh. “In my defense, you haven’t seen me and Jungkook actually do the deed so—”

“Wait, so the two of you have?”

Your expression drops. His tone is approaching older brother protectiveness territory and you’re quick to attempt diffusing the situation. “I will not dive into that. All I’m going to say is that I’m a grown adult and so is Jungkook.”

He grimaces before starting the engine. “Yeah, never dive into that. I don’t need to hear the details.”

You share a laugh and then silence fills the car.

You press your lips together, looking at him while he backs out from the parking spot. “Hey, thanks, by the way. For driving today, and for offering to help me later, and maybe for also never minding your own business.”

You recall how Seowon was the one who couldn’t stop worrying about you and finding a solution when you told your family that you had type 1 diabetes. Your parents were concerned, they pestered you for months to force you to accept financial assistance from them, but they gave up soon after. Seowon though? He never did. He persisted through every outburst you had; he tolerated your bitchiness and your dirty looks all the time. Out of everyone in your life, you always felt like regardless of how stubborn and prideful you could be, Seowon was worse—in the best way possible.

A crooked smile illuminates his face. “You’re my kid sister. It’s my job to never let you experience peace in your whole life.”

You scoff. “Well, you’re damn great at what you do.”

When you reach Jungkook’s apartment, unloading the boxes and arranging your stuff to its designated places, your heart swells in happiness as the reality sinks in that your life is heading in the right direction after months of feeling hopeless. It drives you to be more thankful to the little things, to the people who were always by your side, to your previous circumstance that although wasn’t ideal was still manageable. A lot don’t get to have that kind of privilege and you promise yourself that you’ll make an effort to find more things to be grateful about from this day forward.

“Oh, I forgot to mention,” Seowon approaches in the middle of you arranging your books on Jungkook’s near to empty shelf, “Winnie wanted to give you this. She would have handed it over herself but she’s going to be busy for the next few days.”

You take the frame from his hand and see that it’s the picture Winnie took of you and Jungkook after the ceremony. It’s in the restaurant that you ate at to celebrate the civil wedding. Jungkook was grinning at you with an arm around on the backrest of your chair, you were leaning towards him, smiling at the camera—and the absolute selling point of why this was the best picture ever taken was because of how cake icing was scattered on your faces, places on spots in an artistic manner like it was planted there on purpose for the picture and not because the both of you were being silly that instance.

You think it showcases your relationship with Jungkook marvelously. It’s playful, it’s sweet, and most of all, it demonstrates how you two are clearly great friends.

“This is so beautiful, Seowon,” you say.

You immediately send Winnie a heartfelt thank you message for the gift and continue to take a photo of the frame, sending it to Jungkook as well.

Once you hit send, you type out a message to accompany it.

You: look how cute we look 🥹

You’re certain it’ll take hours before he replies so you keep your phone again, going back to staring at the picture which is now placed on one of the shelves. It’s the sole picture frame you have with Jungkook. In fact, it’s the only picture that Jungkook has in his apartment, and you like to think that this might be the mark of the new beginning you’ll have with him. Even though your relationship wouldn’t be traditionally explored given his occupation and how he’s most likely going to be away a lot, you don’t mind.

If there’s one thing you really believe in, it’s that waiting for Jungkook—whether consciously or unconsciously—always brings out the best outcomes.

gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡

[hyperlexichypatia]

As I keep shouting into the void, pathologizers love shifting discussion about material conditions into discussion about emotional states.

I rant approximately once a week about how the brain maturity myth transmuted “Young adults are too poor to move out of their parents’ homes or have children of their own” into “Young adults are too emotionally and neurologically immature to move out of their parents’ homes or have children of their own.”

I’ve also talked about the misuse of “enabling” and “trauma” and “dopamine” .

And this is a pattern – people coin terms and concepts to describe material problems, and pathologization culture shifts them to be about problems in the brain or psyche of the person experiencing them. Now we’re talking about neurochemicals, frontal lobes, and self-esteem instead of talking about wages, wealth distribution, and civil rights. Now we can say that poor, oppressed, and exploited people are suffering from a neurological/emotional defect that makes them not know what’s best for themselves, so they don’t need or deserve rights or money.

Here are some terms that have been so horribly misused by mental health culture that we’ve almost entirely forgotten that they were originally materialist critiques.

Codependency What it originally referred to: A non-addicted person being overly “helpful” to an addicted partner or relative, often out of financial desperation. For example: Making sure your alcoholic husband gets to work in the morning (even though he’s an adult who should be responsible for himself) because if he loses his job, you’ll lose your home. https://www.nytimes.com/2022/07/08/opinion/codependency-addiction-recovery.html What it’s been distorted into: Being “clingy,” being “too emotionally needy,” wanting things like affection and quality time from a partner. A way of pathologizing people, especially young women, for wanting things like love and commitment in a romantic relationship.

Compulsory Heterosexuality What it originally referred to: In the 1980 in essay "Compulsory Heterosexuality and Lesbian Existence," https://www.journals.uchicago.edu/doi/abs/10.1086/493756 Adrienne Rich described compulsory heterosexuality as a set of social conditions that coerce women into heterosexual relationships and prioritize those relationships over relationships between women (both romantic and platonic). She also defines “lesbian” much more broadly than current discourse does, encompassing a wide variety of romantic and platonic relationships between women. While she does suggest that women who identify as heterosexual might be doing so out of unquestioned social norms, this is not the primary point she’s making. What it’s been distorted into: The patronizing, biphobic idea that lesbians somehow falsely believe themselves to be attracted to men. Part of the overall “Women don’t really know what they want or what’s good for them” theme of contemporary discourse.

Emotional Labor What it originally referred to: The implicit or explicit requirement that workers (especially women workers, especially workers in female-dominated “pink collar” jobs, especially tipped workers) perform emotional intimacy with customers, coworkers, and bosses above and beyond the actual job being done. Having to smile, be “friendly,” flirt, give the impression of genuine caring, politely accept harassment, etc. https://weld.la.psu.edu/what-is-emotional-labor/ What it’s been distorted into: Everything under the sun. Everything from housework (which we already had a term for), to tolerating the existence of disabled people, to just caring about friends the way friends do. The original intent of the concept was “It’s unreasonable to expect your waitress to care about your problems, because she’s not really your friend,” not “It’s unreasonable to expect your actual friends to care about your problems unless you pay them, because that’s emotional labor,” and certainly not “Disabled people shouldn’t be allowed to be visibly disabled in public, because witnessing a disabled person is emotional labor.” Anything that causes a person emotional distress, even if that emotional distress is rooted in the distress-haver’s bigotry (Many nominally progressive people who would rightfully reject the bigoted logic of “Seeing gay or interracial couples upsets me, which is emotional labor, so they shouldn’t be allowed to exist in public” fully accept the bigoted logic of “Seeing disabled or poor people upsets me, which is emotional labor, so they shouldn’t be allowed to exist in public”).

Battered Wife Syndrome What it originally referred to: The all-encompassing trauma and fear of escalating violence experienced by people suffering ongoing domestic abuse, sometimes resulting in the abuse victim using necessary violence in self-defense. Because domestic abuse often escalates, often to murder, this fear is entirely rational and justified. This is the reasonable, justified belief that someone who beats you, stalks you, and threatens to kill you may actually kill you.

What it’s been distorted into: Like so many of these other items, the idea that women (in this case, women who are victims of domestic violence) don’t know what’s best for themselves. I debated including this one, because “syndrome” was a wrongful framing from the beginning – a justified and rational fear of escalating violence in a situation in which escalating violence is occurring is not a “syndrome.” But the original meaning at least partially acknowledged the material conditions of escalating violence.

I’m not saying the original meanings of these terms are ones I necessarily agree with – as a cognitive liberty absolutist, I’m unsurprisingly not that enamored of either second-wave feminism or 1970s addiction discourse. And as much as I dislike what “emotional labor” has become, I accept that “Women are unfairly expected to care about other people’s feelings more than men are” is a true statement.

What I am saying is that all of these terms originally, at least partly, took material conditions into account in their usage. Subsequent usage has entirely stripped the materialist critique and fully replaced it with emotional pathologization, specifically of women. Acknowledgement that women have their choices constrained by poverty, violence, and oppression has been replaced with the idea that women don’t know what’s best for themselves and need to be coercively “helped” for their own good. Acknowledgement that working-class women experience a gender-and-class-specific form of economic exploitation has been rebranded as yet another variation of “Disabled people are burdensome for wanting to exist.”

Over and over, materialist critiques are reframed as emotional or cognitive defects of marginalized people. The next time you hear a superficially sympathetic (but actually pathologizing) argument for “Marginalized people make bad choices because…” consider stopping and asking: “Wait, who are we to assume that this person’s choices are ‘bad’? And if they are, is there something about their material conditions that constrains their options or makes the ‘bad’ choice the best available option?”

[floatyflowers]

Could we please have yandere mr darcy please? 😭🙏🏻

Everything about you is strange according to social norms, from the way you dress to the way you speak, it is like you are from another timeline.

And you are really from another timeline, and it's called 'the future'.

But one day, you suddenly woke up and found yourself in the Regency era, as one of the higher-class ladies.

You tried to adapt to the change as much as you could, but your sense of fashion and behaviour always seemed off, outputting and rude.

However, when Mr. Darcy saw you dressed in a curious yet becoming gown of shimmering blue, with its peculiarly puffed sleeves and cascading pearls, it possessed an ethereal allure.

It is suggested that you are a wearer of unique sensibilities and a beauty both striking and delightfully strange, sure to make a memorable impression.

That's why he asked you to dance at one of the balls.

And you proved to him that you cannot certainly dance.

And when he tried to instruct you, it didn't work, as you didn't know anything about the etiquette of dancing.

Especially when you asked him...

"Left… then right? Wait, was that my left or your left?"

Yet, despite your unorthodox movements, there was something oddly captivating about the way you held yourself, though you embarrassed yourself, yet owned that misplacement with pride.

Your head was high, your expression unwavering.

And when you finally stumbled into a turn that led to an accidental spin, you burst into laughter, rich, unapologetic, and completely sincere.

Yes, Mr. Darcy hates those types of barbaric actions, because according to everyone in the room except the Bennet sisters, those are the actions of people of the lower class.

He should not have noticed you so deeply, and yet he did.

It was not long before he extended an invitation for a private afternoon next week at Pemberley.

"I believe you may enjoy the gardens," he said, voice taut with restrained emotion. "There are orchids unlike any you have seen before."

Your eyes lit up, not at the flowers, but at the idea of exploring a new place. "If they are stranger than I am, I would be surprised," you teased.

He smiled slightly. "Nothing is stranger than you."

You tilted your head. "Is that a compliment, Mr. Darcy?"

"Indeed, it is."

At Pemberley, you wandered the halls, your fingers grazing ancient tapestries and your eyes marveling at the intricacies of things taken for granted by others.

Mr. Darcy watched, silent but never far, His heart grew more violent in its beat each time you laughed softly or tilted your head in wonder.

"You look at this place as though you have never seen its like before," he remarked quietly, once the others had drifted away and you stood alone in the sun-dappled gallery.

"That is because I have not," you murmured.

"I was not meant to be here."

"You are exactly where you are meant to be. With me," he said, stepping closer.

That afternoon, after having tea, the sun went down and shadows stretched long across the polished floors of Pemberley, by the reflection of the moonlight and candles,

A sudden chill overtook you. A shiver raced down your spine, and your knees, so confidently striding moments ago, gave a slight but unmistakable buckle.

Your whole body felt heavy, almost as if you were paralyzed.

Mr. Darcy caught your arm before you could sway again.

"You are unwell," he said, voice low but urgent. He touched your forehead with the back of his hand.

It was an intimate gesture from a man whose every move was usually measured and cautious according to society's standards.

You tried to laugh it off.

"Perhaps I simply feel tired as I didn't sleep well last night before coming here."

But then came the fever. That night, it wrapped itself around your skin.

Your breath quickened, your vision blurred, and the chill grew into an ache that clung to your bones.

Servants fluttered about in hushed tones, and Mr. Darcy stood at the edge of the room, arms behind his back, face unreadable.

"You cannot return home like this," he said decisively.

"It would be most irresponsible."

You wanted to protest, but even sitting up felt like moving through water.

And the tea they brought you, while soothing, made your tongue feel heavy, and lack thoughts

"Stay," he said again, this time softer. "Until you are well."

And so you stayed.

In the days that followed, your fever flared. Sometimes, when the haze in your mind cleared, you would find him seated at your bedside, a book in hand or watching the fire, always near, always composed.

You didn’t know then, of course, that the tea sweetened with crushed feverfew and valerian root had been suggested not by the housekeeper, but by Darcy himself.

He had someone get the right measurements to only make you sick, not kill you.

It gives the same symptoms of a deadly fever, but it won't kill you.

The fever had finally begun to loosen its grip, like fingers releasing your limbs after days of imprisonment.

You lay among silk pillows and lace linens, sweat-dampened and weary, but with clarity returning at last.

Only because Mr. Darcy stopped giving you the tea.

He had not spoken much in recent hours; he only sat near the window, deep in thought.

At last, he turned to you, walking towards your bed.

"There is something we must discuss," he said in a calculated voice.

"There are rumors," he said. "That you and I have... eloped."

Blinking, you are surprised, though not entirely.

You had known, somewhere in your modern mind, that a single woman falling ill and staying at a man's estate, especially his estate, would never go unnoticed in a society so dependent on perception.

"You and I? Eloped?" you repeated.

"It is rumoured that you arrived at Pemberley under a pretense, and that I-" he stopped, as though the words themselves were too indelicate to voice.

"-That I took you in under a motive less honorable than what was true."

A silence has befallen you.

Then Mr. Darcy declared with a steady voice.

"We must marry."

Your eyes grow big.

"Must?"

He took a step closer, sitting himself on the edge of your bed.

"Your name will not survive the rumours if we do not. Nor will mine, though I am of less concern to myself."

"And so this is a matter of honor," you state, trying to keep your tone light, though your throat felt tight.

"You don't have to take my responsibility, I shall return to my family and explain everything to them."

There is no way you are going to marry him, he is not from your timeline.

"Your family disowned you."

"They did?" you ask in disbelief.

Your family in this timeline is not as good as you thought.

"A letter arrived from your uncle. I was informed you would no longer be received in London, nor Hertfordshire."

You drew in a shaky breath, realising you had nowhere to live.

"So what happens now?"

Mr. Darcy rose slowly from the bed's edge, pacing toward the hearth.

"Now, you recover, then we marry."

Have been left with no choice, you agree.

"Very well, I will marry you."

[reidrum]

so high school | s.r.

A/N: oooh first reidrumversary post pls be nice. requested here.

summary: in which professor reid finds his sabbatical to be not so bad if you're around

cw: fluff, not proofread

wc: 1.2k

When Spencer started his sabbatical, it was entirely against his will. Being recently released from his incarceration, he wanted nothing more than to immerse himself into work and all the open cases the BAU had to work on. The last thing he wanted was to have more free time to spend alone with his thoughts, because the brass thought him too risky to reinstate him full time in the field.

He supposes he should feel lucky they even allowed him back at all, what he went through is certainly uncommon for any special agent and it should stand as a testament if they still valued his presence enough to give him such a chance again.

Lucky, he finds, actually walks through the door as he’s gathering the last of his papers from his desk.

“Hi Dr. Reid!” you sing as you traverse down the stairs to the front of the hall, “How are you doing today?”

The first few weeks of his teaching gig were an adjustment period. Still grappling with the complex emotions of being released, Mr. Scratch, and the brass’ claim to protecting him by giving him monthly periods away from the field, he felt as though he was relearning how to live. So much autonomy had been taken away from him in such a short period of time, it’s all he can do for now with small attempts to take it back.

“I’m alright, Professor.” he grins, hoping you can’t read the simultaneous look of joy and relief now that you’ve finally graced himself with your presence.

You brush a hand off in the air, “So formal, I told you not to call me that.”

“And I thought I told you that you could call me Spencer, so I guess we’re both bad listeners,” he jokes. He jokes, Spencer Reid is making jokes. In the hopes of making you laugh. Groundbreaking.

“Oh come on, with all the fancy degrees you have it feels disrespectful to not call you that.”

I’d let you disrespect me anytime, anywhere, he wants to say. He doesn’t.

You’re wearing a pantsuit set that accentuates your figure so beautifully he’s envious of its proximity to you, makeup done so effortlessly and hair pinned up in what you would call a haphazard but he defines as ethereal with the ways a few pieces frame your face like a halo. You’re beautiful, and it’s certainly not news to him.

“I think I see you far too much for you to not call me Spencer,” he chuckles.

You fake a pained expression, “Getting sick of me already?”

Never. That string of words simply does not exist in his lexicon.

“As long as you’re not sick of me,” he smiles and closes his satchel, “so what’s on your lesson plan for today?”

“Social and economic influences on Gothic art and architecture! Should be riveting.”

“That does sound really interesting, did you know Gothic literature often describes the exploration of taboo subjects like the occult and how it in turn challenges societal norms?”

You smile, corners crinkling with glee, “Actually I did, it’s the assigned reading for today.”

Spencer blushes, of course you know that you teach the damn subject. “R—Right, sorry.”

“No, no! Please, it’s always nice to talk to someone who actually cares about art history beyond a letter grade. Doesn’t happen much around here, not since you came.”

“Really?” He really finds that hard to believe, the few times he’s sat in on your classes you’ve proven to him why you hold the tenured position in your department.

“Not all of us teach super cool things like criminal profiling, Spencer.” you giggle.

“I think the badge excites them more than the actual content, but I appreciate the effort.”

He’ll admit he maybe doesn't care all that much about art history, but he does love paradoxical problems. The paradox being you, talking about the greatest artists of history, their mark left on the world through their everlasting paint strokes and artistry as if you’re not the most beautifully sculpted piece of artwork he’s ever been able to lay eyes on.

Maybe he does love art history.

“Oh that’s not the word on the streets about you, Professor Reid.” you move around the desk to stand next to him and unload your belongings.

His eyebrows raise in amusement, “What’s the word about me?”

“I just think you should ask how many people are auditing your class next time, and see who raises their hand.” you say teasingly.

“Audit?” he mumbles, “why would anyone audit this class?”

“Something about more than just the badge and content seems to excite your students, or so they say.”

Oh. Oh. If he wasn’t blushing, he definitely is now. “You’re not saying that people take my class because they think I’m…” he trails.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, it’s a well known fact of the hallways Dr. Reid.” you grin, “all those degrees and you couldn’t figure that out?”

He stammers, “Well—I…I didn’t want to assume…”

You bump shoulders playfully, “Well, you better start believing it. You’re a hot commodity. If I could find a way to get my kids as involved as yours, I would.”

There’s no way he’d start believing it, not because he didn’t find it to be true, but because his mind is already preoccupied with much, much, more important things. Like working up the courage to ask you the question he’s been working on since the day he met you.

“Maybe you could take them on a field trip?”

“I don’t think the budget covers that and we wouldn’t even have time to go during the school year. I wish, I’ve been wanting to go to the Washington National Cathedral for so long, I just never can find the time.” you sigh.

He clears his throat, “Well, you don’t work weekends right?”

“No,” you laugh, “Why, do you?”

He shakes his head, “No, but maybe we could go? Like our own little field trip?”

You gasp in excitement, “Really? You’d go with me?”

I’d go anywhere with you, just say the word, he thinks.

Spencer matches your big smile, your happiness doing more wonders for him than any mandated therapy has ever done. 

“Of course, it’s a…date?” he questions, more himself than at you.

Your smile goes all saccharine and easy, “Sounds like it, Dr. Reid.”

He’s too distracted by you to even correct you on his name. He gives your arm a quick squeeze and a soft smile before rounding the desk and walking up to the top of the lecture hall. Spencer gets halfway before stopping in his place and turning around.

“I—Is that the only word on the street?” he asks, referring to your earlier words. He hopes he used it right and doesn’t look like an idiot.

“What is?”

“That students audit my class because they think I’m…” he falters.

“That you’re cute?” you smirk.

He breathes out, “Yeah, just wondering if there might be…anyone else? That might also think that?”

You hum, “Well Spencer, I guess you’ll find out Saturday won’t you?”

“I guess I will.” he says bashfully.

[reunionatdawn]

Why I think you should be able to romance Yosuke in the P4 Remake

Canonically speaking, Yosuke is pretty much Junpei 2.0. The straight bro best friend to the MC who is obsessed with getting a girlfriend. However, there was a romance route for him that was cut from the game, probably late into development. This would have no doubt recontextualized his entire character arc.

"Comphet," short for compulsory heterosexuality, is a term used to describe the societal assumption that everyone is naturally heterosexual. This concept suggests that people may feel pressured to form heterosexual relationships due to cultural norms and societal pressures, rather than genuine attraction. My opinion is that Yosuke's original character arc was supposed to be an exploration of this idea, due to how much support there was for it in the narrative. And here’s why I think they should add this idea back in for the remake, which looks to be on the horizon.

In P4, everyone's shadow was connected to their sexuality or gender role. Chie was a tomboy who was jealous of Yukiko's femininity. Yukiko was a "Yamato Nadeshiko" who was sick of being fetishized as the ideal girl, which in Japanese culture, is often overly meek. Kanji was bullied because of his feminine hobbies and adopted a hypermasculine thuggish persona. Rise felt disillusioned with her oversexualized idol persona and the performative aspects of show business. And Naoto dealt with internalized misogyny which manifested in her adopting a male persona.

Yosuke: And what's this about checking out this world for Saki-senpai's sake? Hah! I know the real reason you came snooping... You just came because you thought it sounded like a good time! What else is there to do in this shithole? A world inside the TV—now that's exciting! You didn't have a single other reason for coming here, did you!?

Yosuke was the odd one out, as his shadow mainly involved his repressed resentment at living out in the countryside and being very lonely. His shadow also had the least humiliating baggage to expose. He had feelings for Saki. But his shadow self's "dark secret" was that he was more excited about exploring the TV world than genuinely investigating her death. Shadow Yosuke accuses Yosuke of not being as sweet on Saki as he appeared to be. However, this idea didn't really go anywhere.

When the Magician card is reversed in a Tarot reading, it can suggest manipulation. In a relationship context, it means that someone may be presenting a false image or facade in order to manipulate the perceptions of others. And that idea certainly fit Yosuke. He pretended to be carefree. But what if he was also pretending to be heterosexual? What if the "horny straight bro" was just a mask? Is there any evidence of this? Actually, I think there was.

Shadow Yukiko: Tonight, Princess Yukiko has a big surprise—I'm gonna go score myself a hot stud! Welcome to "Not a Dream, Not a Hoax"—Princess Yukiko's hunt for her Prince Charming! And I came prepared: I've got my lacy unmentionables on, stacked from top to bottom! I'm out to catch a whole harem, and the best of the lot is gonna be all mine!

The Shadows in P4 are partly comprised of the suppressed thoughts and emotions of the actual person. There was a part of Yukiko's subconscious that felt like she needed a "Prince Charming" to save her. But the shadows who showed up on the Midnight Channel were also formed from the desires of what the general public wanted to see. Yukiko herself didn't really want to score with a harem of hot studs. It was the male students at Yasogami High who truly wanted to see that happen.

Yosuke was very nonchalant about failing the "Amagi Challenge". He took it in stride, almost as a badge of honor. And I found it very interesting how he showed absolutely NO reaction whatsoever to what Shadow Yukiko said. Nothing. If it were any other boy at school, I'm sure he would have had something to say about the most popular girl talking about how badly she wanted to lose her virginity to a bunch of hot studs. But Yosuke acted like he couldn't have cared less. He just said that the stuff she was saying sounded weird and that was it.

Yosuke: I haven't changed addresses since before we moved to Inaba. I mean, I might get a text from someone…It's hard to call, y'know? If I called people just to tell them my number changed, they'd get annoyed. And some of them never planned to text me anyway… Oh but hey, don't look at me like I don't have any friends!

According to Saki, "Hana-chan" didn't hang out with the other guys much. But in Rank 3 of his Social Link, it seemed like he desperately wanted to have closer relationships with male friends. And that may have been the true reason he happily took on the Amagi Challenge when he was a new transfer student. He probably just wanted to fit in with the other boys.

Yosuke: Haha…I never thought I'd be talking about serious stuff like this. Before I moved here, it was all small talk…Stupid, trivial things. I thought that was fine. It's only with you guys that I talk seriously like this. I dunno why, but I feel like I don't have to lie… Especially with you. You've already seen the worst of me and all. But well…thinking about it now, if someone had to see that, I'm glad it was you. It's a bit late now, but… Thanks for going in with me that time. Yosuke is smiling sheepishly…

By Rank 4, Yosuke acts very different around Yu than he does around the rest of the Investigation Team. He never acts this serious or sincere around anyone else. The other members of the group also open up emotionally to Yu. But Yosuke especially acts like a totally different character. He takes off his mask around Yu and only Yu. He's probably the first friend—especially a male friend—that he ever had where he could just be himself instead of adopting a false persona to fit in.

Yosuke: I can't get my mind off certain things whenever I have a spare moment… (option 1) Yu: Certain things? Yosuke: Uh, you know…stuff. I mean, well… Argh! Let's not get into it! Why do I get the feeling this is going to turn into a depressing conversation!?

During an evening conversation that occurs around Golden Week, Yosuke hints at some unresolved baggage related to his Shadow.

(option 2) Yu: Like Saki-senpai? Yosuke: Oh, come on... Of all the things you could bring up, you pick that one? I mean, that's part of it, but... I dunno, how do I put it? Argh! Let's not get into it! I don't wanna have this conversation!

Saki was part of it, but not the only thing. And he was blushing, too. The implication was probably that he was developing feelings for someone other than her and he might have been feeling a bit guilty for that. Or at least, that was my own personal interpretation.

Yosuke: Y'know, Chie and Yukiko seem different lately. They're a lot closer. Oh yeah, I was just curious, but are you...Ehh, never mind. If we keep chatting, we're gonna be late.

But there is evidence for that interpretation. After Golden Week is over and the group is headed back to school, Yosuke attempts to ask Yu if he is interested in Chie or Yukiko. The fact that he was so hesitant about asking made it stand out a bit to me. He probably had feelings for someone within their friend group.

Yosuke: Oh, I almost forgot. It's kinda off-subject, but as long as you're on the line, mind if I ask something? It's something I've been meaning to ask for a while. So…what do you think about Yukiko and Chie? I mean, let's not mince words: Which one's your type?

Before the stakeout for Kanji, he finally asks Yu which girl is his type.

Yosuke: Huh? Seriously? So that's the kinda girl you go for, huh...? She is a great girl, though. Plenty of fun to be around, too.

If Yu answers that he's interested in Chie, Yosuke acts a bit surprised. Not in an insulting way. He just assumed it would be Yukiko because all the guys in school were crazy about her.

Yosuke: Ohhh, I had a feeling you'd say that. She's actually pretty interesting. I never knew she was like that. My image of her has changed completely, but I like her way better now. Hey, but don't worry. This is just between you and me. Okay, see you tomorrow.

If Yu says that he is interested in Yukiko, Yosuke says he suspected as much. He doesn't say anything about her looks or anything. Interestingly, he just says that his image of her has changed, but he likes Yukiko more now after seeing her true self. Almost as if he didn’t have a very great impression of her before.

Yosuke: That being said…Yukiko, can I have your cell number? Chie: Hey…Was this your plan all along? Yosuke: Uh, no? I got everybody's phone number except for hers. And the Y section of my address book needs some filling out.

During the stakeout, he asked Yukiko for her phone number. So, the player would probably assume that Yosuke wanted to go out with Yukiko. That is what Chie assumed, after all. But I think that was a red herring.

Chie: Hey, how do you think the others are doing? Yosuke: Beats me. For all we know, he's hitting on Yukiko as we speak. Chie: Yeaaaah, no. He's not like you. Yukiko doesn't seem to be interested in that stuff anyway. Wait—are you saying he's interested in her? Yosuke: Huh!? Uh…I…wouldn't know…We don't really talk about that kinda stuff…Hahahaha. Chie: Now I'm even more suspicious! You know something, don't you? Yosuke: I-I seriously don't know! It's not like we've been hanging out that long, haha…

But Yosuke actually seemed less interested in Yukiko herself and more interested in the possibility that Yu might be interested in her. Even if Yu tells him that he's not interested, Yosuke probably didn't believe him. So, it’s possible that he wanted to become closer friends with Yukiko so that he could know right away if she and Yu started dating.

Shadow Kanji: I think that you three…would make wonderful boyfriends. Yosuke: S-Stop it! Y-You got it all wrong!

Kanji's arc introduces the idea of homosexuality into the story. And Yosuke got worked up over Kanji's shadow FAR more than he did with Yukiko's. When he called Yu after Kanji's Midnight Channel program aired, he was "too flustered to get his point across". And Yosuke felt the need to deny Kanji's Shadow almost as much as Kanji himself did.

Shadow Kanji: Accept me for who I am! Yosuke: Wh-Whoa! I really don't swing that way!

It gave me the impression that themes of Kanji's dungeon were just as relevant to Yosuke's character arc as they were to Kanji's. Perhaps even more so in some ways.

Kanji: I, uh…I don't really get it myself. Girls are so loud and obnoxious, so, y'know…I really don't like dealing with 'em. Guys are a lot more laid-back. S-So, uh, I started thinking…What if I'm the type who never gets interested in girls…? And I couldn't accept that, so I kept spinning around and around in my head… Yosuke: Well, I can understand the part about feeling more relaxed around dudes.

Homosexuality is a societal taboo. It is often something that people suppress and do not accept within themselves. It is actually the perfect subject to explore for a game about the shadow self. I don't think Kanji was gay. But I do think that Yosuke was originally supposed to be. And a lot of what Shadow Kanji said hit a little too close to home for him.

Chie: Well, the night's kinda fun. We cook our own meals with mess kits and sleep in tents. Yukiko: The four of us are in the same group. Yosuke: The same group, huh…? Does that mean we sleep together at night, too!? Chie: You wish! Guys and girls sleep in different tents! I'm warning ya…If you leave your tent at night, you'll be expelled on the spot.

When Yosuke found out that they were all in the same group, he actually stood up out of his chair. You're meant to think he reacted this way because he was thinking about sharing a tent with girls. Typical straight teenage boy. But I'm sure he knew they weren't sleeping with the girls on a school trip. His reaction probably had nothing to do with the girls. He probably got worked up about sleeping in the same tent as someone he had been developing feelings for.

Yosuke: This is as good a time as any, so…I-I want you to be honest with us. Kanji: Uh…okay? Yosuke: A-Are you really…you know…? Kanji: Am I really what…? Yosuke: What I mean is, uh…Are we gonna be safe with you? Kanji: Wha—!? Wh-Wh-What the hell's that supposed to mean? I-I already told you guys I'm not like that!

According to Jung, psychological projection is a major aspect of the shadow. When individuals project, they unconsciously attribute qualities that belong to their own shadow onto others. This allows them to avoid confronting these aspects within themselves. If they had stuck with that original idea, I don’t this scene would have been so controversial and offensive to people. By taking Yosuke's same-sex attraction out of the narrative, the game felt a lot more juvenile as a result. Yosuke's homophobia could have been used to explore his shadow self. But instead, it was just used to take cheap shots at Kanji for no reason other than comedy.

Yosuke: W-Well then why are you all hot and bothered about it!? That's just more suspicious!

The irony of this line certainly wasn't lost on me. And I don't think the writers were so lacking in self-awareness that they didn't realize how Yosuke was the one getting all hot and bothered by anything related to homosexuality after Kanji's dungeon. I think it was supposed to raise some suspicions in the player about Yosuke's sexual orientation.

Yosuke: And c'mon, you guys gotta admit I chose some good suits. Those girls might be childish on the inside, but I bet they're gonna turn into some fine-looking women before too long! Don't you think so, Yu?

If Yosuke was always intended to be written as a straight guy or even a bisexual guy, this part would come across as misogynistic and kinda creepy. Even Stupei wouldn't buy swimsuits for his female friends. But if Yosuke was actually meant to be a gay boy, this is more of a sad attempt at imitating a straight boy to appear "normal". And if that were the case, his behavior with girls is a lot more forgivable.

Yosuke: So…? You keep the goods under the futon? (option 1) Yu: Huh? Yosuke: C'mon…No need to play dumb. Don't worry. I'll still be your friend even if you're into the freaky stuff. Yosuke looks like he's having fun.

Yosuke wasn't truly interested in Yu's dirty magazines. He was only interested to learn more about what kind of girls he was into. I know they added a scene in Golden where Teddie finds Yosuke's porn stash and he shows it to his parents. It's played straight as pure comic relief. "Haha, Yosuke never stops thinking about girls". But in his Rank 5 SL, this felt like it was meant to be a more serious topic.

(option 2) Yu: Of course. Yosuke: Hahaha! Why are you acting so dignified about it? Alright, I'll check 'em out when you go take a piss or something. I'll expose your embarrassing tastes!! Yosuke looks like he's having fun.

The "embarrassing tastes" comment was interesting.

(option 3) Yu: What, don't you? Yosuke: Haha! Like I'd hide mine in such an obvious spot! One time, my mom found it and read the title out loud to the whole family… Yosuke is reflecting on his past…

It actually sounds like Yosuke was the one with "embarrassing tastes". If his mom felt the need to shame him in front of the family like that, it leads you to wonder what he was looking at exactly. Sure, it could have been some typical straight boy stuff. But what if it was a men’s magazine or something? Depending on how traditional his family was, he could have received disapproval for that.

Yosuke: So, you ever invited a girl in here? (option 1) Yu: I haven't. Yosuke: Haha, maybe you're more of a man's man than I thought. Yosuke seems happy…

Yosuke seems happy if Yu is not planning to bring a girl over.

(option 2) Yu: I will soon. Yosuke: Seriously!? That mean you're working on someone!? Yosuke is keyed up…

And he gets keyed up if he is.

(option 3) Yu: I have. Yosuke: Seriously!? Who'd you… I'll stop there. I think it's better I don't know. Yosuke is smiling wryly…

He probably assumed it was Yukiko and he didn't wanna know any more details than that. Again, due to comphet, most people would probably assume that he was just jealous because he wanted to date her himself.

Yosuke: Because she likes him…? M-Man, kids sure are mature these days…Well, my first love was in first grade, too! I've always been ahead of my time. But, well…I don't really need that in my life right now. It's just not the time…I have something I need to do before that can happen…

But he actually didn't. His true feelings are quite different than his public persona where he's obsessed with getting a girlfriend. Especially in Golden, like with the motorcycle scene. Yosuke said he was ahead of his time. And I think he was. His character arc seemed to be about being closeted and coming to terms with it. But that was a trickier subject during the time period which the game first came out.

Rise: And the bustline… Yosuke: Huh? Rise: Mine aren't that big. Yosuke: Oh yeah, I see what you mean now… I-I mean…What am I saying!? U-Um, I'm sorry…!

Similar to Yukiko's Shadow, Yosuke had no real interest in the sexual aspects of Rise's Shadow. The Midnight Channel zoomed in to emphasize her chest and waist area, which was due to the general public's interest in her sex appeal. Yosuke told Yu he could tell it was Rise by the hairstyle. However, in front of the others, he said he knew it was her because of her figure. It's a minor detail, but it suggests that his reaction was completely performative. He didn't even recognize her figure in person that well anyways.

Chie: Let's hurry and rescue her! Yosuke! You better not slack off, hoping she'll "bare it all" if we take our sweet time! Yosuke: I-I wouldn't pull a stunt like that! Yukiko: …… Yosuke: Wh-What's with the silent treatment!? I won't do that, I swear! Believe me, I know! We'll rescue Rise before the fog sets in!

The female members of the team assume that Yosuke would want to take as long as possible to save Rise so he could see her strip.

Shadow Rise: Eee, how embarrassing! Is this too hot for TV!? Well, if a thing is worth doing, it's worth doing all the way! I'm gonna bare it all for you! Heehee! Stay tuned! Yosuke: I-Is she serious about baring it all!? Is it me, or are these shows getting crazier and crazier!? Yosuke sounds excited. Yu: We're in no rush. Yosuke: Huh? But if we don't recue her, isn't Risette gonna...s-strip...? *gulp* Dude, we can't let her go through with that!

However, if Yu actually suggests that they take their time, Yosuke doesn't even get why. He doesn't want to see her strip and never even jokes about it, like Junpei no doubt would have.

Snooty student: So it's Kazumi now that Saki's dead!? Don't even bother, she has a boyfriend. Didn't you get it!? Saki didn't like you! We heard so from her! She may have acted that way, but… They started to badmouth Saki-senpai… Yu: Shut up! Yosuke: Yu… Snooty student: Wha—Who are you!? You shut up! Yosuke: You're the ones who should shut up!! What do you know about Saki-senpai!? She didn't do things half-assed like you! She looked lazy, but she worked hard! She talked bad, but she was good inside! So she hated me? I knew that! She's not here anymore! I'm left behind! …Just leave me alone.

In Rank 6, Yosuke didn't become angry when he listened to the girls gossiping about Saki. He only lost his temper when they insulted Yu.

Yu: You were just upset. Yosuke: N-No, I was just… Yosuke is smiling pathetically… Yosuke: Damn…Another pathetic display from Yosuke, huh? Thanks, though. Hearing you say that stuff to them…It made me happy.

Saying "You were just upset" in Rank 7 is a flag that unlocks the option to hug Yosuke in Rank 8. And the Rank 8 hug was probably a potential romance flag, just like when Rise was crying, and the game warns you that this is an important moment and there's no going back. The fact that these flags were still left in the game suggests the romance route was taken out relatively late in development.

Yukiko: The people at the inn keep asking me questions every day, like "What kind of guy is he?" and "Is he handsome?" *chuckle* I'm sorry I got you involved. Yosuke: …… Oh, uh, I'm going to go take a little walk. Yukiko: Huh? No, it’s not what you think!

When Yukiko is at Rank 6, this is the dungeon dialogue between them. There was definitely a love triangle going on between Yu, Yukiko, and Yosuke. Yosuke was clearly jealous.

Kanji and Teddie were conveniently removed from the equation. But Yosuke was a King's Game option. Kanji wanted Naoto to enter the beauty pageant to prove to himself that he was into girls. And Yosuke signed up all the girls. Was he also trying to prove himself straight?

Yu: What kind of girl do you like? Yosuke: W-well, for me, um... I guess a girl that's kind and sorta fragile, you know? Someone I'd want to protect...

Yosuke actually had a hard time with this question. He gets one on those blank scribbly symbols over his head. He was actually describing a Yamato Nadeshiko, which is the idealized woman in Japanese culture. A very safe and generic answer for someone who is "totes into girls" but has no specific type. Kanji's answer to this question was more detailed because he had a specific girl he liked in mind.

Male class rep: Okay…your turn. Who would you want to date? Yu: Yosuke. Yosuke: Okay, we get it! You're good at role-playing! Now quit it! You're creeping me out… Kanji: There are many forms of love…Didn't you tell me something like that? Yosuke: No! Not at all! Well, I admit, I'm pretty dependable…and decent lookin', right?

If Yu sits on girl side, Kanji is also an option. However, Yosuke is the one who gets hot and bothered by homosexuality. At least in public. Privately, he apparently told Kanji off-screen that he had nothing against other forms of love.

Yosuke: Your turn. What type of girls do you like? Yu: A kind girl. Yosuke: Ooh, me too! You get this urge to care for and protect them...

If Yu sits on the boy side, Yosuke is the one who will be forced to sit on the girl side. And he will single out Yu with his question, to learn what type of girl he likes. He can respond that he likes a girl like Chie, a girl like Yukiko, or a kind girl. Yosuke is very happy if Yu says he likes someone he has the urge to care for and protect.

Yu: Any of us you like, Yosuke? Yosuke: Well, you guys are all wonderful... But I think you'd be the most reliable. I-I mean—You idiot! Don't make me play along!

Yosuke would choose Yu to date because he's "reliable". It begs the question. Did he want a kind girl to care for and protect? Or did he truly want to be the kind fragile girl being cared for and protected by a reliable guy?

Yosuke: …I found this. It's a Print Club sticker I took with Saki-senpai… When I first got here, she insisted on taking it… Back then…somewhere inside me, I thought I was above this place… A lot of people saw me as the enemy because Junes was going to ruin the shopping district. But…when I met her, she told me, "Parents are parents. You're you…" Even if she didn't really mean it…it made me happy. Because of her…I started to think maybe this town wasn't all that bad. But then… Yu: She dumped you? Yosuke: No… that didn't matter. As long as she was still alive…

Yosuke was still mourning Saki's loss in Rank 8. But his relationship with her was not particularly close. They were coworkers for less than a year and he knew she didn't even like him. However, she accepted him. That's why he latched onto her. He probably thought he liked her romantically. Maybe he even wanted to like her, since he was so lonely. But I think as he spent time with Yu, he slowly realized that he never really did. But he did have those feelings for Yu.

Yosuke: Yu…I get it now. I wanted to forget about Saki-senpai. How she's not here anymore. I wanted to forget that…I was living a boring life in the middle of nowhere. When the murders started, I got excited…I thought there was finally a point to me being in Inaba…I thought I could forget Senpai was gone…and the fact that I was such a loser…I jumped at the murders and never once thought about what I was doing… I… didn't even take the first step…

I believe Yosuke liked Saki as a person, but he wasn't in love with her or anything. She was a crutch to help him forget his loneliness. And when she died, he latched onto the excitement and mystery of TV world as a distraction. And he felt very guilty over that.

Yosuke: But I think I'm awake now… I need to get over the fact that Saki-senpai isn't coming back… That when this case ends… I'll have nowhere to run… And I won't have changed… …… …You made me realize that. It seems you were able to act as Yosuke's crutch… You feel a bond between you and Yosuke.

The reason Yosuke was crying was probably not because of his deep grief over losing Saki. It was likely because he had found a new emotional crutch. And he was a lot closer to Yu than he was to Saki and even more afraid of losing him. He was afraid of what would happen when the case was over, Yu went back home, and he was all alone again.

(option 1) Yu hugs him Yosuke: You dumbass…That's for girls…

Yukiko's character arc was about moving away from stereotypical femininity and the whole ideal of Yamato Nadeshiko. She became more independent and assertive. But I think Yosuke's character arc was probably meant to mirror hers in many ways. He wanted to be the "girl" in a relationship, but he learned to view that desire as something shameful and he was unable to acknowledge it within himself.

(option 2) Yu pats his head Yosuke: Haha... Quit treating me like a kid...

Amusingly, the kanji for nadeshiko (撫子) also literally means "child being petted".

Yu: Be a man. Stand up straight. Yosuke: Haha… You're right. I wonder what'd be going through my mind if I was man's man like you. Yosuke is smiling weakly…

Yosuke was not a man's man like Yu. He had an obnoxious dudebro persona he adopted in a social setting, but it was not his true self.

Yosuke: This town I hated so much? Now, I love it. There's still nothing here, but I have family and friends...and you. The important things are never far off...They're all around you. Yosuke seems a bit embarrassed... Yosuke: I always wanted to be "special." I thought my life'd finally have meaning if I was "special" to someone. That's why I was really excited when I got my Persona. But I really didn't need it…It's not what you have or what you can do…Just being born, living your life…Before you know it, you're already special to someone. Yu: You're right. Yosuke: Yeah…Like you…You're special to me, you know?

Comphet can cause people to pursue romantic relationships even when they are not sexually attracted to the person. They often don't feel like someone of the same sex is even an option. I don't think Saki was truly "special" to Yosuke. But he wanted to be special to someone else so badly, and he thought that a girl was his only option. So, he latched onto the first girl to show him a tiny bit of acceptance.

Yosuke: There's something I wanted to tell you. Somewhere deep down… I didn't trust you. No, it's more like…I was jealous of you. I thought you were like me. Coming from the city to the countryside, I thought you'd be bored out of your mind here. But as soon as you got here, you called your Persona…Became our leader, gathered people…You're a hero. I like you for that, and I'm proud of you…But I guess I was jealous at the same time. Yu: I didn't know. Yosuke: I didn't know it either…When I called you "special," I thought some more about it. I think out of everyone, I wanted to be acknowledged by you the most…

Yosuke had an unused confession where he would tell Yu that he liked him. And based on the Japanese wording, there's almost no chance it was meant in a platonic way. It's how people express romantic liking. He was jealous of how Yu was special. But I don't think it's because Yosuke wanted to be the hero, the way Junpei did. Yosuke wanted to be special to Yu. But he didn't feel like he was good enough because Yu was more objectively cool and special. He wanted to be an equal partner.

Yosuke: So… I want you to hit me! Give me a good one. Knock out all this crap inside me. I want to be equal to you. I want us to stand shoulder-to-shoulder. So c'mon… Will hitting Yosuke make you and him equal…?

In Rank 10, the game asks whether fighting will make them equal. I couldn't help but laugh. No, I didn’t think it would. It made no sense to me whatsoever.

Yosuke: Phew…The sky's so high up. Is Saki-senpai watching us…? Is she smiling at us? Senpai…I'm going to live. Without lying to myself, without deceiving myself… Days like today, days like before when I did nothing… They're all important days… They're all days you didn't live to see… I'm going to live them here.

As the culmination of his character arc, Yosuke said he would not deceive himself anymore. I was left wondering... When did that happen exactly? I could understand if this dialogue happened after Yosuke confessed his feelings for Yu and finally came out of the closet. Whether Yu reciprocated or not, it would have been an amazing conclusion to his arc and made him a much more interesting character. But sadly, it never happened.

I have no idea why they needed to have a fistfight for Yosuke's Persona to evolve. I think that when the romance confession part of the SL was taken out, the "dude brawl" scene was probably added in its place. They needed some emotionally cathartic moment, but didn’t really know what. I know this wasn’t the intention, but it almost felt like the game was telling me I had to beat the gay out of Yosuke. I didn’t like that.

The question now is: will Atlus change this Social Link in the inevitable remake? I think there’s a good chance they will. The P3 remake removed the transphobic scene. In Catherine, they added a route where Vincent embraced his bisexuality. And Yosuke’s over-the-top homophobia just wouldn’t fly nowadays without some kind of character development.

[loriache]

Butch up that Elf: my Marcille manifesto

TBQH, this came into being because the Falin "dragoness" fanart rewired my brain completely. It's sillytimes, but we're going to make a serious argument: trying out being a little butch would Fix Her.

1. Marcille Gender Discomfort

Now, Marcille LOVES feminity. She loves playing dressup, she loves elaborate gowns, she spends her free time going to the spa - the absolute last thing I want is to deny that. However, there's also a definite vibe that this isn't just a preference. Specifically, the way that she pushes Falin towards femininity suggests that she isn't comfortable with gender nonconformity in the people around her.

If this was something she was 100% confident about ("I'm doing this for myself and nobody else!") surely what other people do wouldn't be a big deal? Of course, you can read this as a little bit of solipsism; "what works for me must work for you too! I think this is so cute and would suit you - wouldn't you agree?"

But for the sake of this argument, all I'm trying to suggest is that gender nonconformity (and probably sexual nonconformity... well, frankly, any kind of sexuality at all) is unlikely to be something that's on Marcille's "radar". She hasn't tried out other ways of presenting and decided she doesn't like them. I do think she'd be a very flamboyant butch - "ouji lolita" vibes, you know? It's a whole new set of wardrobe options she could play dress-up in, even.

After the story ends, she starts dressing like her mother in all black, which makes sense - her mother was also a court magician, so she's probably emulating her in order to project confidence and authority. But I can't say I think she should stick with this. Break away and be your own person, Marcille! Try a fancy waistcoat and frilled jacket!

2. Haircut

This is another potential hard sell, I'm sure. The people she loves doing her hair is a cute symbol of their care for her, and her hair is key to her magic - so there's plenty of reason for her to keep it long. But like... think practically. Having someone do your hair every morning, for the whole of her long life, while it gets messier over the day (because she can't remember to keep it neat)... That's got to be such a pain. My hair gets messy when I put a hoodie on. And I have short hair.

It would require her to go through a change of mind, and probably a little more growth in how secure she feels in her relationships, but - the hairdo's a symbol. The more important thing is the relationships themselves. Eventually I think there might be something liberating about cutting it off, even if she might eventually decide to grow it out again.

The lion, her trauma, took something away from her which was really important to her. The people around her are able to make that easier, and make up for it, and soften that loss, but... Mithrun isn't the person he was before, you know? He's a new person. The relationship he has with his brother is new, and I don't know if it's one that the person he was before could have had. If Falin hadn't died, they wouldn't have gone on that wonderful adventure! They wouldn't have met Senshi or saved Izutsumi and Laios and Marcille wouldn't have gotten so close. So I think it's totally congruent with the themes of the story that the burning away of this part of Marcille's self might eventually create the potential for new growth in a new direction, not clinging onto the parts that are gone.

This also isn't totally out of the norm for elven mages - both Otta and Flamela have short hair. Otta is canonically butch, and potentially Flamela reads that way to elves too, but the point is it clearly is possible to be an accomplished mage without long hair.

3. Desiring (to be) a chivalrous prince

Marcille's succubus is clearly General Halleus from her favourite book series, the Daltian Clan. The fact that this is her ideal man.... it certainly plays into readings of her as Not Straight. But at least, this conveys the way her conception of sex and romance is strongly idealised, dissociated from the bodily and from physical desire.

There are many ways to interpret that, including thinking about what types of desire this fixation is obstructing because she is not comfortable with it, but I am going to focus here on what this desire does signify. She likes the trappings of courtly romance, and is clearly comfortable putting herself in the role of the princess, being taken away on a white horse by a noble (but tormented; eyepatch has "death" on it lmao) prince. (Though I think he's actually the token male lead who isn't royalty; he's a General. There's always one in Romfan, lmao. IYKYK)

A kiss on the hand - this is so chaste, I think it's clear it's more about desire to play a role in a dynamic than it is about desire in a physical sense. There is undoubtedly a big part of Marcille that wants to be a beloved and chased-after princess, but I think it isn't at all impossible that she'd also enjoy being the powerful, cool, and chivalrous "prince" to someone (a pretty girl, perhaps) who needs her protection.

This is a little silly, because it's clearly just aping the shoujo artstyle that articulates basically the same idea as her succubus, that Marcille is attached to highly abstracted and idealised romantic (and Romantic) tropes and ideas. But the imaginary "successful" Marcille from chapter 4 looks quite similar to her succubus. (Another thing I noticed is that in the fantasy she has sharp ears... like full elves have. Despite what she says, I think the cultural messaging that this trait is "attractive" and hers are inferior got to her at least a bit. 😥)

Also, the way that she treats Falin, scolding her indulgently, trying to look after her and wanting to be looked up to and respected by her... that aligns more with the "masculine" role in the trope that her succubus is referencing. "What are we going to do with you...?" I can imagine her saying this to Falin, word for word. Whereas, if anyone real started talking down to her, even affectionately, I don't think she'd like it, given the negative way she reacts when people don't respect her or her skills. Especially after canon, given the way the Winged Lion was treating her.

Her attitude to Falin is partially down to her reluctance to acknowledge Falin as an adult, who is independent and can grow beyond her and leave her behind. But I think even as they move on from that unhealthy dynamic, Marcille is still going to get pleasure from feeling capable, reliable, able to look after and protect Falin. She'd like to pull the chair out for her in a restaurant on a date, you know?

4. Conclusion

Even after the growth she goes through during the story, there are parts of Marcille's character that are very much obstructed. Romance, sexuality, and gender, feel like one of those to me. The way that her discomfort with the messy origins of food betrayed a deeper, more significant discomfort with the cycles of life and death.

Much in the same way, I'd argue that the simplified, idealistic, and safely fantastical way that she views romance, as well as her very "safe" gender presentation and tendency to push it onto others as well, suggest an underlying discomfort in her own gender and sexuality. The character growth she goes through leaves her in a place where it may be possible to safely re-evaluate her relationship with Falin, as well as her choice of clothing and hairstyle, both things that go through a change at the end of the manga. Neither, I think, reach a sustainable stopping point that we see - there will be a point when it's more servants doing her hair than friends, just out of practicality, because they're all going to be so, so busy. The black clothing to copy her mum is cute, but once she gets some more self-confidence in her own skills as a court magician, I think she'll move on from it. And... who knows what direction her relationship with Falin will develop, over the years? I'm rooting for them, anyway.

In all those cases, I think moving outside of the things she's done before, into something really different from the things that are "safe" and expected, will be the most rewarding path for her. Like in the dungeon, things that she would initially reject were actually able to sustain her and broaden her tastes. She loves dressing up, looking after people, and "princely romance". So I say: Butch Marcille! It'll be good for her!!

[deathbxnny]

Arcane ladies with a apathetic(?) fem s/o

Not really apathetic but you'll get it

Reader is willing to do some really fucked up shit for them

Manipulation, genocide, torture and other extreme things (she would never do that on them)

And she doesn't even try to hide that she's capable to do it for them

It doesn't help that reader is pretty strong mentally and physically (physically strong enough to break bones like it's nothing)

Strange request? Maybe, but thank you for reading it even if you don't do it :) (sorry for the bad english)

Arcane women with a Fem!s/o that would do anything and everything for them. | Mel, Jinx, Caitlyn x Gn!Reader

I actually had a lot of fun writing this, so thank you for your request! And don't worry, I understood what you meant so your English is just fine!!<33

Content: Reader is unhinged and morally dark grey, established romantic relationships, murder, death, manipulation, wlw, sfw

Reader is asked to be afab with she/her pronouns.

((Not proofread))

The limit is the sky, as they say. And yours goes beyond any measurement possible.

Morals are a suggestion, a human philosophy you didn't bother to abide by, especially when it came to the safety of your partner. Death, lies, and deceit were your strong suit, the only thing you knew to be excellent in the wake of total emotionlessness.

The only thing you cared about was your girlfriend's well-being, and that was it.

You were more than content with this arrangement and didn't try hiding your devotion to her either. She should be proud to have a lover like you after all. No one else would put this much effort into her... and she knows that, right?

》MEL

Mel is torn between her position as a councilor and being your lover. On one hand, she knows that she shouldn't be condoning or pardoning your crimes, no matter how much she feels for you... but on the other hand, the touch and love starved part of her practically beams with excitement at the blood that drips from your hands in her name. To have someone care for her so deeply was certainly not the norm, and so, she often chooses to just loom away.

She'll let you do your thing as long as you try your best and keep it under wraps, since she still had a reputation to uphold and couldn't justify your actions in public for obvious reasons. You two never talk about what you've done otherwise, though, making it an "out of mind, out of sight" situation. This doesn't mean that she won't sometimes watch you go through your extreme training just to see your impressive strength in action.

The moral dilemma of loving you will most likely haunt her forever, but that doesn't mean much to her in the long run. Your love is irreplaceable.

》JINX

You two are the absolute dream team couple, to say the least. The desire and devotion you share for each other is naturally overridden by any morals. Not that either of you ever cared about them to begin with. You fill the streets with terror and chaos, determined to make everyone see the strength of your love... even when you always took it way farther than she did.

Jinx battled with her mental health all the time, the scratchy hallucinations screaming and yelling at her at every mistake. That's what made her appreciate you so much more than others, her heart pounding against her chest whenever you return with bloody hands and tell her the atrocities you've committed in her name. It made her happy to know that someone could be as equally as obsessed with her than she was with them.

She will never let you go for as long as she lives, always the one to tell you how grateful she was for everything and anything you did for her. She knows that no one will ever love her so much ever again if it isn't you doing it.

》CAITLYN

Caitlyn was very much horrified when she found out about everything you've done. You'd argue that this is simply your way of showing love to her, but she had a hard time accepting it. She didn't want you to torture and kill others for her. It wasn't the right thing to do, and nothing she said could make you see that, too. Death and carnage was all the same, if it was in the name of love after all.

Alas, Caitlyn, for some reason, still never turns you in for your crimes, despite her position as an Enforcer. In a way, she's kind of in denial over the whole thing, going as far as to excuse the bloody stains on your clothes or your late night outs that would result in many dead. It wasn't you, surely. Hell, even you outright telling her that it indeed was you wouldn't be enough for her. Ignoring the problem is a much easier strategy than trying to admit that your girlfriend is a terrible person.

And so, you two never speak of it outloud. Deep down, she knows that one day people will catch onto what you're doing and perhaps prosecute you at last... but with how powerful and strong you are, she doubted that that would happen any time soon.

[darlingghoulette]

walked in and dream-came-trued it for ya'

Summary: You come across a fun surprise on a supply run and decisions are made to “spice things up” in the bedroom for you and Joel. You fuck about it. That’s the fic. Rated E.

Content tags: crack treated seriously for porny reasons, established relationship, Jackson!Joel, afab!reader, reader has a vagina, no other physical descriptions of reader, no use of y/n, brief discussion of body insecurity, pussy play, pussy pronouns, finger sucking, oral, unprotected p in v, Joel talks you through it because of course he does, excessive use of contractions because Joel is Southern and so am I, ambiguous reader age–she was alive before Outbreak Day so you can do the math however you’d like. I’d still say she’s younger than Joel because the demons in my soul command me to write Older Man Smut. 

Author’s note: this started as a conversation about having a majestic bush in the apocalypse and spiraled into an excuse to write smut. While this is hot, I 100% believe that Joel would want his girl all natural as the good lord intended, but hey, pussy is pussy. Just wanna say: your body is your own, fuck patriarchal standards for body hair. This is just for a lil fun. 

Read on AO3

It starts as a joke. 

You’re clearing an old beauty store on patrol, some old chain business that used to peddle expensive makeup and a million different types of skin care that all essentially do the same thing. It’s not the normal kind of place to look for supplies, but if there was anything you’d learned living through the apocalypse, it was to be resourceful. 

You and Maria had already found a decent haul. Shampoo, acetone, disposable applicators that could be used at the clinic. And no infected growing into the walls to be seen. So far, at least.

All in all, the mood was pretty high. Maria doesn’t patrol much, especially after having the baby, and a calm, successful trip outside of the walls was a welcome one. She’s not technically your sister-in-law, seeing as you and Joel aren’t married, but she’s the closest thing you’ve had to a best friend and sister since the end of the world. 

You’re trading lighthearted conversation as you browse the aisles, nearly ready to call it a day when you see it. 

A medium sized box, dented and dusty. One of those wax melting kits, a little pot with tiny beads of brightly colored wax pellets. You’re already kneeling down to see if all the pieces are still intact when Maria ducks around the corner. 

“All set?” she asks, shooting you an amused look while you dig excitedly into the box. 

“How long has it been since you’ve seen one of these?” 

The packaging has certainly seen better days, and the wax beads aren’t nearly as vibrant as they probably once were, but surely wax doesn’t go bad, right? For her part, Maria is regarding the contents warily. 

“Can’t say I’ve had the time to get a wax in the past, hm, twenty years or so. So, probably about that long.” 

It’s almost strange to think about how little things like body hair used to be a huge deal Before. You can remember the first time in middle school you felt embarrassed about how all your friends shaved their legs and you weren’t allowed to. Before you even realized it was just a commonly accepted societal norm and not worth the huge drag out with your mom who had bigger things on her plate than her kid’s race to puberty. 

Stupid shit like that stopped being important…well, ever, if you think about it, society’s expectations were bullshit and patriarchal by design–but especially after the world ended. 

“We should try it.” you joke, even though something about the idea is actually tempting. 

“I’m alright, thanks.” 

“Come on,” You’re already imagining wrangling it into your saddlebags. “It could be fun! The guys are out helping with the dam maintenance until tomorrow, we could have a girls night! Movies, wine, torture for the sake of beauty. The full ritual, you know?” 

“I’m with you for the rest of it, but I’ve made peace with my legs how they are.” You hadn’t necessarily had your legs in mind. 

Maria, genius that she is, correctly interprets the wicked grin curling your lips up slowly without you even having to say anything.

She snorts, amused, but in a way that’s absolutely laughing at you instead of with you. She’s good at that. “No.” 

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!” you defend, but she’s already shaking her head. 

“I’m not taking you to the clinic after you rip off something important giving yourself a Brazilian with a 20 year old kit.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes at her. “Now who’s being dramatic? It’s not a rusty razor blade. It’s wax, Maria. I’ve just…you know. Never done that, even Before. And I’m sure it would be even safer with more hands helping…” 

“Ask someone else then.” 

“Like who? You’re the only person I’d trust. And really the only person I have besides the 15 year old whose dad I’m currently seeing, and we just got her to the point of somewhat tolerating our relationship, I’d really rather not jeopardize that.” 

The image of what a disaster that would be makes you both laugh, but there’s enough truth in the statement that you feel a twist of embarrassment at even the thought. Absolutely not.

“Besides,” you say, faux-innocence dripping from your tone. “Might be a fun surprise for Tommy. Spice things up after the baby?” 

The look Maria directs at you is flat and unimpressed, but you can tell she’s not actually annoyed. In fact, there’s a glimmer of something sharp in her eye that tells you she might actually be entertaining the idea. “We don’t need things spiced up, we’re doing just fine, thank you.”

Your nose wrinkles a little at that, you may have brought it up first, but that’s your not-brother-in-law she’s talking about fucking–

“But,” she continues on before your face interrupts her anymore. For a few beats, anticipation hangs heavy between you in the dilapidated store.

“But?” 

The pursed seal of her lips eases into a grin, mischievous and matching your own. 

“But it might be fun to see the stuck dumb look on his face if I sprung this on him.” 

You let out a sharp bark of laughter, imagining your own Miller with a similar reaction. Yeah, this thing is definitely coming home with you. Just in case, you know? 

*****

For the millionth time in the last hour, you shift awkwardly on the couch. 

It’s the next day after your patrol shift with Maria. The ensuing girls night you’d had turned into more of a get tipsy on the Bison’s good whiskey and goof the hell off night. It was good to see your friend so relaxed, you thought, she stayed so busy and stressed keeping the town safe and secure. A rare cutting loose was called for.. 

It just so happened that the liquor in your system also made the mysterious box you smuggled from the supply run a whole lot more appealing. 

It was a whole ordeal, including cursing, awkward stops and starts, and more drinks than was probably smart for people your age. Thankfully, Maria was more familiar with the whole process and did most of the legwork. Not the most comfortable or glamorous passtime, and you got to know each other in ways that you certainly hadn’t expected, but the results at the end…

You cross your legs again, the sensation of your clothes on bare skin is novel when you change positions. It was stupid, and way more painful than you’d expected. Something fueled by drunk decisions and committing to the bit for laughs, but you can’t deny…it feels kind of nice? Different. But nice. 

Still, in the light of day, a new anxiety is popping out after your rash choice to go all beauty-school dropout.

The sun has sunk deep into the mountains, throwing those picturesque oranges and pinks across the Wyoming sky. 

Joel’s due home from his overnight trip to the dam any time now. 

Leftovers you’d snagged from the dining hall are keeping warm for him in the oven. There were no dishes to wash since you’d chosen to spare him the fate of choking down something you’d thrown together. (And he would have, the kind hearted fool. You’re not the best cook, but he insists on eating whatever you make while you attempt to learn.) 

The book you’re reading hasn’t progressed a single page, you keep picking it up and putting it down without retaining anything, your mind too caught up in its spiral.

What if he hates it? 

Of course, it’s a stupid thought. You know he’s not the kind of person who would judge you for something small like this. Sure, it’s not how he’s seen you since you both got together. But some guys go crazy for this, right? It used to be the preferred style for some people, back in the day. Even if it’s not his, it’s just fucking hair. It’ll grow back. He’s told you over and over that he’d love you no matter how you looked, and more than that his actions speak for himself. He’s literally seen you crouched over a toilet and ralphing your guts out. He’s seen you at every worst you’ve had in the last five years and is still there. In comparison, this is such a laughable insecurity. 

What if he thinks exactly that, though? It’s not a dealbreaker, but what if he laughs at you, what if he thinks it’s stupid and childish and you’re trying too hard, what if he hates it, or what if–

The sound of the front door opening interrupts your–admittedly silly–crashout. 

“Baby?” he calls out from where you can hear him shucking off his work boots, starting the familiar routine of sloughing off the outside world for the comforts of home. 

“Living room!”

Before you can quite go back to riling yourself up, he’s behind you, curling down over the back of the couch to kiss you hello on the slope of your neck. Your head leans backwards, craning up at him above you.  

His presence is like a balm, you can feel the smile growing on your lips while you take in the soft look he’s gifting you in return. 

He’s ruffled, hair a mess from the blowing wind outside; the scent of horse and woodsmoke and sweat rolling off of him. It never fails that fresh-off-work Joel just drives you absolutely up a wall. There’s something so masculine and protective and natural about him when he comes home like this that makes you want to just jump his bones as soon as he walks in the door some days. 

Today’s no different. 

“Have a good weekend, darlin’?” He’s leaned down further now, grunting just a little at the probable murder its doing on his back, to kiss you on the forehead. It makes you huff a soft breath of a laugh out of your nose.

“Better now, but yeah, it was pretty good. Dinner’s in the oven.” you hum, watching him straighten back up and start shedding his coat. “If you wanna take a shower first, I’ll get you a plate.” 

He kisses you again in thanks, a soft peck to your temple, a large palm coming to cradle your jaw briefly to press you into the contact. It’s intimate despite being so tame, a gesture that makes something deep in your bones melt better than any on-TV passionate romcom kiss ever could. This is real and warm, and makes you feel incredibly silly recalling your anxiety from just a couple minutes ago. 

*****

It’s only after you’re both set up at the kitchen table that the anxiety and anticipation begins to creep back in, Joel fresh from his shower in sweatpants, you with your feet propped in his lap with a cup of tea while he eats his late dinner. 

He’s telling you about the maintenance at the dam, how the group of workers had a disagreement on how to set up the factory to better prepare for the Spring storms that’ll move through soon. And you’re listening, really, you are. Nodding along when it’s needed, adding commentary when the conversation lulls. It’s just…

You can’t help shifting in your seat occasionally, or shooting him quick glances, wondering about his reaction. It’s getting you all twisted up again, and you’re trying to decide when will be the best time to bring it up. You’re nearly bursting with it, ready to pop and just get it over with already and–

“Alright,” Joel sets down his fork. “What’d she do?” 

You blink, brought short by the sudden change in conversation. “Huh?” 

“What’d she do?” 

“I’m not following.” 

Joel looks at you, a deadpan expression on his face, one brow raised and–Oh, no, that’s his dad detective face. 

“You’re over there squirmin’ like a sinner in church and you can barely meet my eye. If it was something you did, you’d have broken by now because you can’t keep a secret for shit. Which brings me to thinkin’ Ellie pulled some kinda fool stunt and you’re trying like hell to cover for her.” he says, the corner of his mouth pulling up into an amused and exasperated expression. “I went by the garage first thing when I got back into town and didn’t notice anything, but she’s gettin’ better at being a normal sneaky teenager. So, what’d I miss?” 

You can’t help it, that breaks you. You laugh, spine uncurling from its ramrod position. He always finds a way to break you out of your spiral. Even if he’s a little off the money, there’s something about the fact that he’s so attentive to your moods that releases the balloon of tension that’d been growing in your chest for most of the day.

During your giggle fit, Joel just smiles at you, pleased to have unfurled the little wrinkle you get between your brows when you’re really stewing on something. The meal mostly done and forgotten, his hands move to massage your socked feet in his lap, tugging playfully.

“Nothing happened, but it’s cute how you think you could get me to snitch on her,” You snicker, kicking one foot out to gently bump into his stomach. “She knows where I sleep and I’m more scared of her than I am of you.” 

He laughs, mumbling a that’s probably smart under his breath before trying to weasel more answers out of you.

“Alright, if it ain’t that, then what is it?” 

“I have no idea what you mean,” you sniff. 

“Baby.” 

His tone is low and coaxing, only meant to prompt the issue out of you, but it has the effect of kindling embers in your stomach. He sits there with his broad shoulders and tousled curls fresh from the shower, hands doing magic on the muscles of your feet, oblivious for all the world that he’s just about the most attractive image of a man you’ve ever seen in your life. 

You sink a little further into your chair, using the foot that’s not currently in his grasp to rub along his thigh. Something in his eyes immediately darkens. 

“It’s a surprise.” 

Taking the opportunity where it’s given, his hand slips further up your calf, fingers just barely brushing the tender skin at the crook of your knee, fully exposed for him in the pajama shorts you’re sporting. 

“Don’t gotta surprise me, don’t need nothin’. Got everything I want right here.” 

You grin. “What if I’m part of the surprise?” 

He was already looking at you before, but the way his eyes rake over you now? It’s heavy, taking you in like the only water in a desert. As much as his gaze feels like a physical thing, you’d much prefer his hands. It’s that want that has you lining up the final shot. 

“I mean, unless you’re too tired from your trip. That would be fine, honest, it can wait until–” 

You’re cut off with a delighted shriek when he stands and snatches you up from your chair, leftovers forgotten on the table as a problem for tomorrow. 

Head still spinning from the rapid change in scenery, it takes you a second to recognize that he’s headed straight upstairs. He’s on a singular mission, as made clear by the clever hand on your ass that’s not just to keep you supported in his arms. 

Joel may be older than you, but goddamn, you always forget how fucking strong he is. 

The buttons of his flannel are irritatingly done up and your fingers are trying to get the stubborn bastard things open when he makes it to your bedroom and drops you to the mattress with a squeak. You barely have time to get your bearings back from the impact before he’s pressing down on top of you. 

“Missed you so much last night,” he offers, already pressing hot kisses to your neck, your collarbone, pulling at the stretched neckline of a shirt that’s his anyway. 

You nod rapidly in agreement, nerves fizzling with electricity before he even touches you. It’s always been like this. The easy, syrupy intimacy of everyday life that can snap on a dime, dropping you both into urgency and need like you’ve never felt before. And, indeed, you need him to fuck you already before you go out of your mind. 

In a dance that’s as instinctual as breathing, your legs wrap around him. Your hips undulate up into his so you can feel where he’s hard and just as desperate.

Joel pulls back to hover above you. One hand palmed around the back of your neck, tilting you to look up at him. Guiding you where he wants you. “What do you need, baby?”

You lick your bottom lip, brain catching up to his words. His eyes dart down to your mouth. 

“I-I want–” you start, breathlessly, but he cuts you off with a click of his tongue. 

“Don’t think I asked what you wanted, sweet girl,” he hums, thumb resting on your chin and pulling it down. Gentle pressure, you could absolutely break away if you wanted to, but you follow his lead, sucking the appendage into your mouth. “Asked what you needed.”

You try to get the word “you” out around your mouthful, and you must do a good enough job that it earns you a kiss to the forehead, a move that might feel out of place to anyone else, but it’s so protective and possessive and him it makes you want to fucking writhe to release the pressure between your legs. 

The slick sound of his thumb when he pulls it from you draws a sharp whine from your chest and he shushes you, hands dragging down and down and down your sides, coming to rest on your hips. Something about that wriggles in the back of your head, like there was something you were supposed to be doing here, but you’re way too caught up to remember.

“It’s alright. I gotcha, baby,” Joel says, heated and soft in his low drawl, and then he’s sliding your shorts down your hips. Hands sure and practiced, expert at playing you like a goddamn fiddle. Lips laying scalding, sucking kisses from the crook of your knee to the inside of your thigh as he eases your legs open and–

Stops. 

It takes a couple of seconds for you to realize that he’s not just pausing for anticipation. He’s full on halted down there, one of your legs still hiked up in his palm, staring down at you like…Well. 

You think the term Maria used was struck dumb.

You bite your lip to keep the laughter contained. It’s not very successful, because his eyes snap back up to your face after a snort sneaks out against your will. 

There are lots of sexier ways you could play this, probably, but you settle on grinning up at him. 

“Surprise?” 

The sound he lets out is more of a sharp exhalation of breath than anything, like it was kicked out of him. You think you hear a goddamn tacked on the end there, but it’s quiet.

“What prompted this?” he asks when his words find him again, eyes dropped back down to take in the sight. 

“Felt like a change,” you mumble, losing some of your previous steam. You can give him the whole story later, but despite being used to him seeing you all kinds of ways, something about direct eye contact with your pussy makes you wriggle uncomfortably. 

“You, uh. You like it?” You’re starting to feel that anxiety creep back in, especially since he hasn’t confirmed or denied, or said much of fucking anything to give you a clue yet.  

Something in your tone must give that away, because you can almost see him mentally shake himself–systems coming back online, you think to yourself. The next time his eyes catch yours, it makes your stomach go molten. 

“Like it?” he echoes. His fingers have started exploring, petting down your soft skin. Even just the gentlest touch is like a livewire, makes your entire body clench, and he huffs out a soft laugh. “More’n like it, you are…Christ.” 

He’s lowered your knee over his shoulder now, using both hands to make you lightheaded without actually touching where you want him.

“She’s so pretty, baby,” he coos at you, making you moan even louder when he caresses the tender skin on either side of your cunt. “You make her all pretty just for me?” 

You nod, words a knot in your throat. 

“She’s always pretty, though.” You can feel the hot breath closer now, mouth hovering just above where your nerves are on fire. The sensation has your hand snapping down and threading into his hair with a keening whine. “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen, an’ all mine.” 

And then he’s eating at you like a man starved. 

He’s always been enthusiastic when it comes to your pleasure, but like this everything feels heightened, sensitive beyond measure. His nose bumps your clit and your vision whites out.. 

His tongue is not just bullying inside you every few strokes, it’s licking at the soft, smooth skin wherever he can touch. He sets his teeth to gently drag across one of your folds and it sends you nearly howling with it, the pressure in your core ratcheting up so high that you feel yourself hurtling to the edge impossibly fast. Joel knows it, too. He knows your body better than anything else on earth. 

“That’s it,” When he pulls back, it’s only with scant inches between you still, dipping back in to lay kiss after kiss on your heated flesh between words, like he can’t stand to pull himself away. Two of his fingers take the place of his tongue, crooking up inside you exactly where he knows drives you crazy and thrusting. Fucking you through it with every trick he knows drives you right to the peak. 

“Good girl, take what you need, alright? Give it to me, baby, I got ya’,” 

You can’t do anything but comply. Chest heaving, crying out with your orgasm as he eases you down as effectively as he built you up, kissing around your clit because he knows the stimulation can be too much directly after.

You don’t even wait to get your breath back before you’re using the grasp you still have on his hair to yank him up to your mouth. 

He tastes like you. 

It’s your favorite thing to taste on him. 

Down below, past where his fingers are still petting at you, he’s grinding into the bed, trying to relieve the pressure where he’s straining against the seams of his sweatpants. The sight of it knocks enough sense back into you to start tugging at his clothes with urgency once more. It must amuse him greatly judging by the look he gives you. 

“Need something?” he asks, but smart man that he is, he’s already joining in to help you shove his clothes away, your hands too shaky from the mind-shattering orgasm still. “Got another one in you?”

“You gonna keep asking stupid questions?” you pant, and it makes him bark out a delighted laugh, genuine and deep, and it has you grinning in response, always secretly pleased when you make him laugh. 

It’s a practiced dance between you both; getting him undressed to match you, taking playful nips at the newly uncovered skin within reach, getting distracted by long periods of kissing until you’re so keyed up again that all you can do is pant against his mouth while he teases you. 

He’s slowly rubbing the head of his cock against your soft folds, a slick slide that echoes wetly in the room and it’s so fucking obscene you could vibrate out of your own skin. 

Up and down.

Up and down. 

Coating himself in you and…just feeling. Playing with you. Enjoying his surprise. You let out a whine, impatient and beyond your limits. 

“S’it feel good?” he’s toying with you, stroking along your skin everywhere except where you need him. He nudges against your clit and the shocky, overwhelming zip of it rocks a gasp from your chest that he must like the sound of because he does it again, hungry for it. 

“You didn’t answer me earlier, you think she’s got another one for me?” 

You’ve dissolved down to only nerve endings, too wound up to do much in response but grind up against him. 

“Feels so good, so soft and sweet f’me,” he groans, the head pressing in just that little bit, barely there, only needing just that little bit more pressure to pop past the resistance and into your body. “Why don’t you feel, baby? Reach down here and guide me in, feel how nice we feel together,” 

He grabs your hand, pulling it down between your bodies, grunting when you grip around him. It’s so slick and hot, a combination of the two of you that makes your stomach clench in anticipation. You try to guide him right in, desperate to feel him inside of you, but he resists.

“Slow, baby, slow, there we go,” It’s agonizingly drawn out, but he sinks into you finally, the position you’re in–one of his hands under the small of your back to tilt you up to him, your knees locked around him–combined with the glacial pace makes it feel so intense and fucking deep that you’re sucking in great lungfulls of air to keep from floating away. “Theeere we go, atta girl. Always take it so well,” he murmurs, breathless himself, shoulders tense. 

He’s petting along your side with his free hand, gentling you like a goddamn horse, and fuck does it make your eyes roll back. With anyone else it would probably feel condescending. With Joel it just makes you want to slam your hips down into him even more, get him to move already. 

He finally does draw back, right before slamming forward again and stealing all of the hard-won breath from your chest. 

Time is lost after that. A haze of slapping skin and moans. 

He adjusts his grip on you, both hands coming to rest on your hips to physically pull you into the force of his thrusts, propping you up and up until–

“Fuck!”

He hits that spot inside of you that makes your entire body jolt with electricity, and he grins, boyish and cocky. 

“There she is,” he’s relentless, angled perfectly to make you lose your mind, thumb coming up to rub perfect, tight circles over your clit in time with his strokes. “I’ve got you, baby, gonna let go for me?” 

Already keyed up and sensitive from your peak earlier, the overstimulation is tortuous and so, so good, already hurtling you towards another that you know he can feel impending by the way you’re tightening around him. 

You’re trying to hold on, drawing out the pleasure curling at the base of your spine, but he drops down, hips never stopping, thumb still a maddening pressure on your clit, and he bites at your chest. 

His breath is scorching hot and wet on your skin as he groans “such a good fuckin’ girl, fuckin’ come on my cock baby, s’all yours,” and he bites down on a peaked, puffy nipple. 

Your second orgasm of the night rocks through you, the force of it startling, your fingernails making deep grooves in Joel’s back as you ride through it. 

He’s cursing and holding you to him, hips stuttering with your cunt gripping him so tightly. Your end tumbles him into his own, emptying into you and fucking his come deeper on instinct. 

The room is silent except for your combined breaths as you both come down. 

There’s a pleasant buzzing in your limbs, a humming in the back of your mind as it comes back to the awareness that you still have a rather large man resting on top of you and that your lungs would quite like it if they could inflate all the way. 

You tap Joel’s shoulder and he adjusts, sweat-sticky skin peeling from you to move to the side. It’s not as gross to you as it maybe could be. You think that’s what love might be. 

He’s no sooner on his back beside you before you’ve rolled to lay against him, one leg tucked up over his, your chest flattened to his. Like space between you might actually kill you right now in the wake of your high. To his credit, he must feel the same, his palms skimming over your back, your ass, down to your knee and up again in a soothing circuit. 

Soon you’ll need to get up and run a bath. Currently, you cannot think of anything you’d like to do less than move from this spot. 

Joel kisses your hair, then your forehead, across your cheeks, anywhere he can reach, and you hum, absolutely in love with how touchy he gets after a good orgasm. The man may look big and bad outside these walls, but you have his number when it comes to post-coital cuddles. 

It’s because you know him so well that you sense something brewing, his thoughts a little too loud for your liking. “Everything okay?” 

He just hums, working a spot under your jaw with his teeth. 

“Joel.” 

“What?” 

“You’re thinking too hard.” 

“M’not.” 

“You are, I can smell the smoke.” 

He huffs, head dropping back to the pillow. “Cute.” 

“I know,” you pretend to preen, but drop the humor quickly in favor of propping up on an elbow to look at him. He doesn’t seem distressed, but he’s definitely chewing on something. “What is it?” 

His forehead is furrowed a bit, mouth curved to one side in thought. “You just…” 

Your brow raises, prompting. 

“You didn’t do all that,” he gestures at your lower half propped against him. “Just for me, did you?” 

You snort. “Didn’t hear you complaining about it a minute ago.”

He rolls his eyes. “I ain’t complaining, I’m just saying.” 

It’s on the tip of your tongue to tease again, maybe even get a little defensive as the nerves from before try to sink back in, but you refrain. You can see in his expression that he’s serious, trying to say something here that’s important, so you let him gather his thoughts. He sighs, appearing frustrated at himself that the words aren’t coming out right.

“You can do whatever you want with your body, not like you need permission from me. I just wanted t’say that you don’t need to do anything to change yourself for me. I know some people did that controlling shit Before, pushed their preferences on their partner, but I thought it was stupid then, too. I love the way you are no matter what, because it’s you, alright?” 

You blink at him, not expecting the heartfelt turn in conversation. 

There’s a hint of a flush under his tanned skin that has nothing to do with the previous vigorous activity. Talking about emotions usually does that to him, but he always makes a point of letting you know how he feels about you.  

You wax your pussy on a drunken whim because you think it’ll be hot, and this large, wonderful idiot of a man is worried you did it out of some obligation to beauty standards and wants you to know he loves you regardless. 

As silly as the situation is, you’re utterly, ridiculously charmed. 

You smile down at him, still propped on his chest. The perfect vantage point to see how his eyes get drawn to your kiss-swollen mouth. 

“And what if I said that I was just trying something out? Comparing differences, you know, to see what I like. Scientific, almost.” 

His eyes darken.

“In that case,” With a startled shriek, he has you flipped, back pinned to the bed once more. “Thinkin’ we should keep on testin’.” 

He’s creeping back down your body, focus resting on his come that has been dripping out of you, fingers scooping through the slick and pushing it right back inside where it belongs. It wrenches a shocked moan from you. 

“Joel, I can barely move already.” you whine. 

“Good thing I’m doing all the work, then.” 

His eyes are locked on the apex of your legs, greedily taking you in. 

“I ain’t done with you yet, pretty thing,” and you don’t think he’s talking to your face at all. 

[justdavina]

“Hello there! You can call me Catherine! Just your average person who is going against societal gender norms I first remember crossdressing when I was 3 years old. I unfortunately held back due to the usual societal pressure.

I remember how terrifying going out in public was! Thankfully as an adult I got amazing friends and found great communities that allowed me to flourish into the person am and not what I am told to be I love fashion and makeup.

“I love how just going between high fashion style blazer dresses and golden mini dresses can completely change your personality as well. Clothes may not make the woman but certainly helps you feel the part and we should all get the chance to feel like our true selves.”. – Catherine

[changbunnies]

Mint (18+)

♡ Pairing: Changbin x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: fluff, smut, pwp

♡ Word Count: 2.7k

♡ Summary: It's the little things your boyfriend says and does that fills you with love for him; and you'll take any opportunity, no matter how small and mundane, to shower him with the love he deserves.

♡ Smut Warnings: light d/s dynamics (switch!bin and reader), vaguely plus size reader (because i am nothing if not self indulgent), light nipple play, oral (m rec), some begging from bin because i literally cannot stop myself from writing it lmfao

♡ Notes: this was supposed to just be a binnie drabble because it's been too long since i last wrote for him and i miss him, but i got a lil carried away as usual :') this is valentine's day fic in spirit only, there's really nothing thematically that makes it suit vday lol i truly just wanted to write something fluffy for bin even if it was small and plotless <3

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

It starts with a giggle; the bashful kind Changbin always fails to suppress when you start kissing him stupid. They’re simple, repeated little pecks, and you can feel him trying not to smile too hard, lest you end up kissing his teeth instead of his lips.

His lips are as sticky as they are plump and soft, the result of a combination of indulging in strawberries & cream hard candies, and his healing mint chapstick. The taste is pleasant, and your own lips tingle from the healing mint transferring to you, as well as growing sufficiently sticky from having a candy of your own before kissing him.

He doesn't know what brought the kiss attack on, but there's nothing he loves more than being doted on and feeling your affection, so he happily (and greedily) takes all the kisses you offer him.

Still, Changbin's curious– so when there's a small lapse in the kisses due to your need to take a breath, he asks; "Why are you attacking me, baby?"

The question is spoken with evident joy, the hints of his previous giggles still lingering in his voice. And there's no "reason" per se– all he'd done was sit there on the couch with you, in his cute cable-knit sweater with his tamed (but still ever so fluffy) hair and wire-frame glasses, eating candy.

It wasn't so much a particular action he took, or a special instance out of the norm that caused you to bombard him with love. There was no grand gesture of affection, no pre-planned romantic intent, no shameless display of affection. Changbin loves to do those things, certainly, but this wasn't that kind of moment.

You were simply in your shared apartment, cuddling under your couch's designated throw blanket as you watched a movie together post-dinner, snow falling peacefully on the cityscape outside your windows. When you were shopping for ingredients to make dinner tonight, he couldn't resist grabbing a bag of candy when he noticed it on sale– because who doesn't love a treat when it's discounted?

And it was all made better by knowing they were a favorite of yours too– so when he tore open the bag, full to the brim of small, individually wrapped candies, he took one for himself before eagerly tilting the bag in your direction to take one. Changbin watched you take it with a sweet smile, turning back to the tv before unwrapping another candy to pop into his mouth; and the simple domesticity of his affection was reason enough.

He turned to you when you called his name, a question lingering on his lips as he felt you inch closer; did you want another candy? Did he accidentally leave the bag too far out of your reach? But within seconds, you were surprising him with a kiss.

It took him off guard, you could easily tell by the squeak he let out, but the corners of his mouth curling into a smile before he returned the kiss told you he was more than happy with it.

"Because I love you," you answer his question earnestly; it was all you thought as you pulled yourself closer to him, the only words lingering in your mind as you hastily pressed your lips to his.

A tiny blush crawls over Changbin's features as he smiles, as full and radiant as it ever is when you dote on him. His eyes squint beneath his glasses, his adorably round nose scrunching, and you can't help but smile too; his joy is infectious, after all.

And perhaps in some ways it's silly, but it's always the small actions he takes that remind you of how in love you are with him. It's always moments like now, when you're relaxing together, at peace and comfortable in his presence in a way you are with no other, that your heart swells with love for your boyfriend the most.

Slow moments, where you can really appreciate the man beside you, when the full weight of your affection for him can settle over you like a warm, fuzzy blanket. Moments where any problem you have melts away, fading to the background because Changbin is with you, and that's all you need to be okay. 

And for Changbin, it doesn’t matter if it’s the 1st, 100th, or 1000th time you’re kissing him– it always sparks something in him. He isn’t greedy about many things, but when it comes to you– that’s a different story entirely; he’ll hold you tight and endlessly drink in all you're willing to give him. 

Your lips taste similar to his– a more muted, subtle version of strawberries, cream, and mint; he indulges in it, his hands finding their way to you and leaving the bag of candies forgotten to the side. He hums pleasantly when you crawl your way onto his lap, obediently parting his lips when he feels your tongue slide against them.

It doesn’t take long for him to start chubbing up beneath his cream-colored pants– and how could he not? You’re in his lap, kissing him deep and slow, with your fingers in his hair. They glide easily through his soft, straightened hair, and while you can’t help but miss his natural curls, you do appreciate your fingers not tangling in them and pulling. 

Changbin would like it, you know– he’s strong enough to manhandle you without breaking a sweat, can flip you and hold you into any position and make you take it with ease; but in the same breath, he’s pliable, ready and eager to be molded into whatever you need him to be. He loves his body, and his strength, and the squeals he can draw out of you by using it– but what he loves even more is being good to you. 

But this moment isn’t about that– you aren’t looking to take control, nor to make your lover meek and pliant; it’s about showing him the depth of your love for him in the only way you can when words fail you. What else can you do when saying “I love you” doesn’t feel like enough? When the heat that’s building in your chest will burst if you don’t kiss him and kiss him and kiss him?

He isn’t hard enough for his erection to quite be “obvious” in his loose pants yet, but you’ve been with Changbin long enough to see when he’s getting worked up. His breaths come out harsher, and the pink tint to his cheeks spreading to his ears paired with the quickened beating of his heart you can feel just beneath your fingertips tell you all you need to know.

He has a dazed, lovesick look in his eyes when you pull away from him, paired with a goofy, beaming smile. “I’m so lucky,” he breathes as he hugs you, the squeeze so tight it almost feels like it could crush you– but Changbin knows the limit. “I’m crazy about you– you know that right? I love you so much.” 

You’re effectively trapped in his arms, but that’s no problem for you– you return his hug, giggling as he returns your affections. Your soft laugh delights him, and he shows it by peppering your cheeks in chaste kisses before moving on to your neck. 

“Bin, that tickles,” you whine between your laughter, his hands squeezing you as you squirm in his grasp. He laughs too, lifting his head to meet your eyes with the downturned smirk that tells you he’s amused.

He thinks to tease you; playfully peck you over and over whilst saying you attacked him first, so it’s only fair– but it melts away when you tenderly reach to his face, cupping it in your hands. Your thumbs resting on his full cheeks, you kiss him again, soft and sweet. It effectively turns him to putty, a content sound rising from his throat as his squeeze on you loosens. 

You take the opportunity to slip a hand into his sweater, caressing his plush stomach for just a moment before bringing it to his chest. You love the way he feels– bulking muscles under soft skin, pecs strong and well-defined but so easy to squeeze in your palms. He shivers under your diligent touch, your fingers always so soft and motions so purposeful.

He keens when you tweak his nipple just the way you know he likes, and he has to make a conscious effort to stop himself from unconsciously bucking his hips up. You can feel him, fully hard beneath you now and pressing into the fat of your ass.

On another day, you might tease him about it; coo over how sensitive he is, watch him squirm as his face burns deep red. But the way Changbin looks at you, so reverent and adoring with a haze of lust, never fails to fill your stomach with butterflies.

It's obvious with just a look that he's becoming needy; he’s expectant, wordlessly pleading, skin tingling with anticipation for what you’ll do next– and you’ve decided from the very start that you’ll give him anything he wants. 

“Ah–” his brain lags when you ask what he wants, if there's anything at all he'd like you to do, the air suddenly feeling heavy and thick around him. And it’s not because he’s shy, necessarily– it’s just that the loving gaze you hold for him while waiting for him to answer is making his mind feel fuzzy.

He swallows, and in the end his words are less than eloquent, but they're enough. “Your mouth– please?”

You smile at him sweetly, a shudder traveling the length of his spine when you dip your hand between your bodies to palm his cock over his pants. He sucks in a breath, shivering as you make quick work of freeing his erection from the fabric. The inside of his underwear is sticky-wet, the result of pre-cum steadily leaking from his sensitive tip.

His fists are clenched, breaths labored as he watches and waits for you to deliver on his request. You shift carefully off his lap, letting the blanket covering you both fall to the floor– along with the plastic bag of strawberries & cream candies that you entirely forgot were still there next to you. 

The clatter of them falling to the hardwood almost makes you jump, and you watch as some of the candies roll out of the bag, scattering in all directions. You stare for a moment, blink before you turn to Changbin and laugh. “I forgot,” is all you say, and he giggles with you, leaning over the couch to assess the damage. 

“We can clean it later,” he assures, grabbing your hand so you focus on him instead of on the mess. If there’s one saving grace, it’s that the candies are all individually wrapped– and you’re certain that getting your boyfriend's dick in your mouth is of much higher priority than picking up some spilled, but otherwise perfectly fine, candy. 

“Wait,” Changbin says after you sink to your knees, grabbing a cushion to place under them, “don’t want you to get hurt.” You smile and thank him warmly, getting yourself comfortable on the cushion– and he’s quick to reach to the floor where the blanket fell, wrapping it around your shoulders snuggly. 

“Changbin,” you giggle as he secures the blanket around you.

“What? I don’t want you to get cold either,” he says, and it’s so endearing you can think of nothing else to do but kiss him, just as before.

“What about you?” you ask, and he simply smiles while assuring you he’ll be perfectly fine. And you’re sure it’s true enough; Changbin tends to run hot, after all. Still, you get as much of his legs in the blanket as you can as you inch closer and settle in between his muscular thighs. 

You take his cock into your hand once more, the length short but impossibly thick in your comparably small fingers. The sight of it, leaking and throbbing as it silently pleads for stimulation, is always mouth-watering to you, and the change in your eyes is enough to make him squirm in his seat. 

You take your time planting slow, lingering kisses to his steadily leaking tip, coat your lips in his arousal and trail it down his length before slowly licking back up. You repeat– enough times to have him biting his lip and tensing his thighs, desperate pleas for something more just a breath away from being uttered. 

It’s a little cruel to tease him this way considering you said you’d give him anything he wants, but how could you resist? Still, a promise is a promise; so just before you think the thread keeping his restraint together is about to snap, and he’s ready to string together a babble of begs and pleads, you engulf his tip in your mouth. 

The relief is instant– a loud, shuddering whine leaving his lips as you lower your head, sliding the entirety of his length into your mouth. It’s always a stretch, even just for your mouth, but you’ve grown used to ignoring the ache in your jaw. He’s heavy on your tongue, but you’ve always liked that– and the moans you’re met with as you bob your head make any tenderness you’ll feel later entirely worth it. 

You can feel him tremble, the sound of your saliva pooling and dripping down his cock enough to make his head spin. Needing something to hold and ground himself, he desperately searches for one of your hands; you offer one to him quickly, let him squeeze as much as he needs once your fingers are intertwined. 

Your other hand caresses and squeezes over the meat of Changbin’s inner thigh, and his head falls back against the couch cushion, eyes closing as he releases another high pitched whine. Suddenly he feels much too hot, sweat threatening to drip from where it builds on his brow. You swirl your tongue around his cock to the best of your ability as you take it to the base, and it nearly makes him sob.

“S-So close, please–” he manages to choke out through a whimper, shivering when you hum and quicken your efforts. It’s utterly dizzying– how good your mouth feels, the salacious sounds that pour from it, the heady cry of his desperate, pleasured voice; overwhelming and baffling, almost, how a man as big and strong as him can be a weak puddle in your hands.

“Gonna cum– ‘m cumming, c-cumming for you,” he manages to stutter out just moments before his thighs and stomach clench and his eyes roll back. His back arches off the cushion as he writhes, his cum spilling down your throat, thick and pleasantly salty. The overstimulation as you continue to lick over his now softening length makes him gasp and squirm until you inevitably release his cock from your mouth with a pop, satisfied with your efforts cleaning him up.

Changbin is utterly breathless, but still quick to help you back to the couch when you move to rise; your knees ache from being stuck in the same position for so long, but it’s certainly not as bad as it would’ve been if he hadn’t offered you the cushion to rest them on. He smiles at you as you wipe the accumulated sweat from his brow, a sweet thing full of awe and adoration. 

“I love you,” he reminds you with a sappy, downturned smile and you giggle before offering him another kiss. “And,” he quickly adds, effortlessly scooping you up into his arms now that his strength has returned and his body no longer feels like jello, “we’re not done yet.” 

“Binnie!” you can’t help but squeal, clinging to him tightly as he rises from the couch with you in his arms, as if you're light as a feather. He kicks the bag of fallen candy as he walks, and you giggle as you hear more pieces rattle and roll around on the floor and out of his path; you almost want to playfully scold him for worsening the mess. 

“We can clean it later,” he repeats, as he enters your shared bedroom. He carefully lays you down on the bed, crawls over you and kisses you with all the passion and ardor he can muster. His hand traveling slowly, purposefully down your body, until it finds its home between your thighs.

There’s a whispered promise then; that you’re not leaving the bed until he makes you cum again and again.

[jacaerysgf]

just a little 1k wc smutty drabble of jacaerys eating good, enjoy 😊

You wish you hadn't seen it. What they had been doing, for it is had been plaguing your mind all day. You try to shake off the burning desire in your stomach as you recall the events.

You can’t, for even while you're kissing your husband you are thinking about it. He pulls away from you, a small string of saliva connects the two of you and as he stares at you with hearts in his eyes. “Is something wrong dear?”

You and Jacaerys have always had a very standard time in the bedroom. It is always very pleasurable for you, though you now know that is not the norm after some very shocking and concerning conversations with the other ladies in court, and this leaves you feeling guilty.

Guilty for wanting more of him, wanting him to consume you, for wanting him to give you more when he has already been selfish enough.

“It is nothing dear.” You attempt to push your lips against his once more but he holds your shoulders firmly in place, looking at you worriedly. “You are not yourself. If you are not up for it tonight we do not have to bed, i will not force myself on you.”

This has your heart aching as you look down. He is always so kind and so sweet to you. Which makes you feel like a dirty animal for the thoughts you are thinking.

“I do want to, so badly dear its just,,,” You trail off , turning your head the other way. He is quick to grab your chin and tilt your head back up to look at him. “What is it? If it is something i can do for you i will do it.”

You know he can do it. Or at least you hope he can.

“I had been walking around and i stumbled upon something,” You hesitate, unable to believe the words that are about to drip out of your mouth. “they were a squire and a maid, in the wine cellar, he had he propped up on one of the boxes, he seemed to be giving her pleasure but,” “but what?” Jacaerys voice is shaky, his hands rattle on your skin, he is desperate to hear your words, his breath fans on your skin in a rapid rhythm.

“But his head was between her legs. It is sinful and it is scandalous but i have never seen or heard anything like that before. It had engraved itself in my mind and i cannot stop thinking about ti, the blissful look on her face, not that you do not give me pleasure of course but this looked like it was different. Im sorry i know it is wrong to think about-” You gasp as his lips press heavily against yours.

He grips your jaw with a fury as he kisses you like he never has before. He pulls away from you and presses your foreheads together as you catch your breath. “You wish for me to do that to you my sweet? i will i will do it, gods i have been thinking about this for so long. You let out a squeal as he lightly pushes you to fall onto your back.

“Truly? Then why have you never brought this up before?” He looks embarrassed but he cannot stop himself from tugging up your nightgown to pool around your hips and reveal you bare to him. “It is quite, carnal, i suppose theres no better word for it. I did not think i lady like you would be interested.”

He presses a kiss against your stomach before he looks up at you once more. Its breathtaking to see him at an angle like this, simply staring up at you, you try to catch your breath but you are unable to as he begins to trail kisses down your stomach before stopping right where you want him and moving instead to grab your legs and place them on either sides of his shoulders.

You should feel humiliated, shame should be coursing through your veins but the way jacaerys has an awestruck look as he admires you and the way his hands softly caress your skin is enough to quench any worries and fears you have.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asks, despite the fact that it had been your idea. “Yes.” There is not way you can stop your desire, certainly not with how desperate he seems, like he is dying to be able to put his head between your legs.

His face disappears from your view and you feel him kiss around your thighs. You whine as he continues to simply brush around where you want him and he chuckled, “i’m sorry i will not tease you.”

You wanted to say something back to him but you suddenly jump and a shiver runs down your spine as you feel his hot wet tongue push past your folds.

You harshly grip the top of his head as he hims content, the vibration adding another level of pleasure. You get why the woman seemed to pleased, this was on another plane of ecstasy.

Your head thrown back as he continues to lap against you, the sounds in the room leave your skin feeling hot. You continue to revel in the feeling of him licking at you, drinking up every drop you let out until you also feel something harder press against you. His nose.

You have no clue how he’s even breathing. But you cannot find it in you to care as you find your hips moving on their own, rubbing against his face, hitting his tongue and his nose so perfectly it has you seeing stars.

“Keep doing that please.” He pulls away for a quick second to speak before he is right back to it. You listen, continuing to rut yourself again his face, unable to contain your moans. You’re sure everyone in the damn keep could hear you but you don’t care.

You do notice something curious, he is rutting himself against the bed, the moans he pours into you adds to your pleasure. Was he surely so pleased by this? by bringing you pleasure he had no other choice than to try and quench his own hunger by rutting himself against your sheets like a dog?

You have no time to dwell on it as he brings one of his hands to your clit, taking it in his fingers and rubbing it around. You’re thrown into a whirlwind of pleasure like you couldn't believe. You're sure this is what heaven must feel like.

His hand slides up your chest and you lock your fingers with his as you feel yourself drawing closer and closer to your release. It is like your souls locking together. He grips you so tightly and you grip his back as your face contorts in pleasure as you burst.

You continue to wither in pleasure as he laps up every single drop of essence you spill out in your release. He sits up and stares at you with wide eyes, his usual brown eyes lost in a storm of black, pleasure seeping into his soul.

You can see the shine gloss all over his face, his nose, his jaw, his chin, his lips and his lip especially are noticeable as you can see they are redder and bigger. You watch as he licks his lips and grins at you. “That is so much better than i could have ever dreamed of.”

You have to agree

<3 went a little crazy and wrote this yesterday when i was freaking out of jace <3

Perm Jacaerys taglist

@tyronesien @itsbookworm987 @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 @aegonswife @jacesvelaryons

[bluelockmaniac]

⊹ ࣪ ˖𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓-𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄

↳ "a cute first encounter which leads to a romantic relationship later on."

ITOSHI SAE'S ONE-SHOT VERSION !

↳ not recognizing the renowned player piques his interest in you <3

click here for the bllk various version .

each early morning, before practice, sae made it a habit to stop by the local cafe for a cup of freshly brewed coffee. it was a routine he followed to keep himself awake from either the tedious interviews his manager always nags him about, or the unexciting plays his teammates offered. but today, this conventional drill would deviate from its norm. 

as usual, he ordered the pungent drink and stepped out of the establishment to continue on with the events his day promised, only to abruptly collide with you, splattering warm coffee all across his jersey. you were running at a fast pace, late to work for the second time this week, and you definitely did not want to face your manager’s scolding again.

for a moment, he stood there, stunned, blinking at the spreading stain. slowly, his gaze lifted to lock on your frantic, worried eyes.

“i’m so sorry, sir!” you stammered, quickly pulling out a handkerchief to absorb what you could of the bitter liquid, completely oblivious to the name on his jersey. perhaps he was a really big fan of some bigshot football player, you assumed. “i wasn’t paying attention– you see, i’m late for work and—”

“it’s alright.” he retorted calmly, though a very subtle hint of annoyance laced his words. he gently pushed your hand away from his chest and sent the now empty cup flying into the distant trash can with his foot.

your wide eyes sparkled in amazement as he made the shot. “woah, sir, do you play football? you have a really good aim! is the player named…” you made a quick loop around him to check the back of his jersey, “...‘sae’, your inspiration?”

sae lifts a brow, surprised by your lack of recognition. it was not often that he met someone unaware of japan’s prodigy player, who had made a significant name for himself in spain. nonetheless, you had certainly made quite an impression on the professional player— and he was rather fond of it. however, he wasn’t about to conceal the fact that he was the owner of the name on his jersey.

“i am sae, dumbass,” he points out.

“who?” you inquired innocently, your attention focused more on his striking features than the insult he had just thrown your way. if there was such an attractive, famous young man (despite his foul tongue), you would have known him by now. but, you decide to shoot your shot anyway; it would be a waste to let go of such a handsome guy.

“also, is it possible if i could get your number?” you asked almost flirtatiously, before realizing the awkwardness of the situation. “i mean, i’d love to, uh, pay you back for the coffee you spilled.”

“hmm?” he glanced at your uniform, then pulled out a small piece of paper from his pocket with a sigh. “you’ve done nothing to make yourself worthy of having my number.”

“–wait, i really do apologize for spilling your coffee, sae—”

“but,” he pauses, handing you the paper with a shrug. “you ought to keep me entertained.”

with a final glance at your love-stricken expression, he turned on his heel and disappeared around the corner. with your heart racing, you eagerly smooth out the crumpled paper and scan its contents; itoshi sae’s neatly written phone number. you actually received the aloof man’s contact! but… 

you were fired. well, this should be enough to keep him entertained, right?

© 2024 bluelockmaniac — do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform !

[blueteller]

Out of all the bad people in the story, i dislike Director Ma the most. Reading about krs sitting quietly in his chair trying to get a day off to see cjs & lsh hurt alot. Why do you think krs didnt do anything to get revenge on Ma?

Oh, I absolutely agree. Director Ma is THE WORST. The kind of emotional manipulation this man did to KRS? Disgusting. Utterly repulsive.

I was honestly so glad that it was OG Cale in the side-story and not KRS who heard him say... that, but unfortunately, the fact that Director Ma DARED to try guilt-trip OG Cale!KRS for taking a VACATION of all things, to his face, when we all know that OG KRS was a workaholic who rarely ever took days off? It means this sort of thing wasn't new. For all we know, this could have been a regular occurrence in the office. Not this line specifically, but this… general dismissal of KRS's feelings, while simultaneously taking advantage of his emotions and sense of responsibility. It's the "He's not even crying during a funeral" all over again. Those freaking monsters at the Company, how freaking dare they. Just thinking about it makes me angry.

Now, about your question. Why do you think KRS didn't do anything to get revenge on Director Ma?

I actually considered it in the past. We know Cale is someone perfectly capable of taking revenge and getting even. So why would he let this jerk get away with such behavior when clearly he had enough power in the Company to make a difference?

Here are some of my theories.

One, it could be that Director Ma was useful. You might remember, during the Sealed God's Test arc, Cale mentioned knowing the leaders of the shelters and remembering how he was used to asking them for help and cooperation in the past, with much struggle. Director Ma might have been one of many, many individuals that KRS tolerated "for the greater good". As long as he was only a jerk to KRS as a Team Leader and left his teammates alone, I imagine KRS did not think much about his own hurt. He was too practical. If Director Ma was evil like, let's say, Adin, and was planning harm to other people, Cale certainly would never let it go. But a common… jerk, for the lack of a better word? He could have shrugged it off easily.

Two, maybe it was because Director Ma was a senior. Cale is actually really, really Korean in that aspect. Multiple times in the story Cale had a habit of considering how he should treat his seniors. He even remarked about the White Star that "I don't care if he is a total senior, that guy is a crazy bastard from now on". So, the simple cultural habit of respecting his seniors could be at play here. Yes, Director Ma was way out of line with his words, but those were the words of a senior. So even if Cale understood that it wasn't fair to be treated like this, he might have felt obligated to accept it because of the traditional Korean values of social hierarchy.

Three, maybe it was a sense of helplessness. One of the moments that struck me really hard in the flashback when LSH & CJS died, was the fact that "no one told KRS to wipe his nosebleed". Once KRS lost all his friend, he felt isolated. Without anyone to defend him. Director Ma wasn't the only a**hole he had to deal with on a regular basis in the Company. Perhaps, due to his depression, KRS simply grew used to such disrespectful treatment until he accepted it as a norm. Which is really freaking sad, but I could see it happening. I really do think that transmigration snapped Cale out of a 10-year-long streak of depression and workaholism. …Well, maybe not the second part, heh.

Four, there could be complexities to his relationship with Director Ma. KRS worked over a decade in the Company, after all. Perhaps there was something in their history that made KRS unable to act against him. Blackmail, for example? I don't know what kind of blackmail would work on KRS of all people, but. Perhaps it was simply emotional blackmail. Maybe KRS felt guilty over being Team Leader, because the spot was meant to be inherited by CJS. Maybe Director Ma helped him in the past and KRS felt like he owed him. Who knows? 10 years is a long time.

Here, there's my answer. None of those reasons make Director Ma's treatment of KRS justifiable, of course. But it would explain how such a dumb person avoided getting utterly annihilated... Because we all know Cale could have done it with ease. But relationships between co-workers can be complicated, so.

...Let's all be glad OG Cale got to avenge KRS by simply being himself 😂