#Hm. That's reasonable I suppose. Something new I could collect.

[nostalgicfun]

Disney Records

[daydreamingyuta]

Mornings | Jaehyun

summary: fluff, a collection of mornings with Jaehyun over the years as you spend your lives together. word count: 1,127

Saturday August 10, 2019 [7:18 am]

You woke up, having hardly gotten any sleep, but energized as ever. Today you were meeting up with your boyfriend, Jaehyun. You two had just made everything official and your heart was so happy.

You go into the bathroom to do your skincare, and when you walk back into your room, you notice a good morning text from him.

Jaehyun: "Good morning baby! Can't wait to see you today <3"

A single text shouldn't make you this filled with joy, but it's from Jaehyun, so of course it does.

Y/n: "I can't wait either! Do you think we could also get some ice cream afterwards?"

Jaehyun: "We'll do anything you want angel"

You flop back onto your unmade bed, your thoughts filled with how lucky you feel to be Jaehyun's girl. You start to get giggly because you know that, by the end of the date he's going to cup your face into his hands and tell you how pretty he thinks you are, like he always does.

⸻

Sunday November 10th, 2019 [1:17 am]

You were supposed to be at home, already asleep in bed by now, but you and Jaehyun didn't want to leave each other. Each of you making excuses to prolong your date. Now it's one in the morning and you're on a walk, the street lit up by the moonlight. Each step you take, now unconsciously synced with his. Jaehyun hasn't let go of your hand once, and you wish that he never would. While you were enjoying your stroll, his mind was racing, thinking of how to tell you. He knew in his heart that you felt the same way about him, so he decided it would be best to just tell you outright. "Y/n?" He says, with a hint of nervousness in his voice.

You both stop and turn to face each other, knowing from the tone in his voice that he needs to tell you something important. "I love you." Words cannot describe how your heart feels in this moment. The way he's looking at you, like you're the most precious person in the world to him, was making you melt. "You love me?" You say with a teasing smile, tilting your head slightly. "So much y/n. I can hardly take it." He says, breathlessly. You stand up on your tippy toes and give him the biggest kiss you've ever given him. "I love you too, Jaehyun."

⸻

Sunday December 15th, 2019 [9:12 am]

The slight movement of Jaehyun cuddling more into you was the reason you had woken up. You move to get into a more comfortable position, causing Jaehyun to wrap his arm tighter around you.  “I’m sorry baby, did I wake you up?” Jaehyun says with his morning voice that you couldn’t get enough of.  “Hm, it’s okay. I love cuddling with you in the mornings.” Jaehyun nuzzles his head into your neck, “Me too, baby.” You fall back asleep, thinking about how excited you were that it’s almost your six month anniversary together. You can’t believe that you’ve been together for that long, the time feeling like it was going by so fast. 

⸻

Friday April 16, 2021 [7:32 am]

You knew something was up. You weren't sure what, but Jaehyun and all your friends and family had been acting strange for the past month. Like they all knew something you didn't.

You had just gotten a promotion at work, so maybe they all came together to plan a surprise party for you. But that's not really something you would enjoy and they all know that, so you really had no clue what it could be.

Today, Jaehyun was taking you out on a fancy dinner date, so whatever was going on definitely wasn't happening today.

"Good morning, angel." Jaehyun says, once he sees that you're awake. He's carrying a suit that he must have just picked up from the dry cleaners.

"Did you buy a brand new suit for our dinner?" You ask, confused.

"Yeah." He shrugs, as if getting a new suit was no big deal. As if he didn't have to spend days finding the right one for the special occasion. As if he didn't get the suit tailored to fit him exactly the way he knows you like.

You had more questions, but Jaehyun distracted you from them all by climbing into bed with you and giving you a million little kisses. You were in heaven whenever he did this.

Little did you know, that in only a couple of hours he was going to be down on one knee, in the park that you two visited during your first date, asking you to make him the happiest man on earth.

⸻

Monday May 16, 2022 [10:35 am]

You woke up with the waves coming from right outside your hotel window. You feel around the bed and notice that Jaehyun must have already gotten up. You hear a sound in the bathroom and know that he just got finished with his morning shower.  He comes out of the bathroom with a white robe on, his hair wet and messy, but you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone as handsome in your life.  “Can you believe we got married two days ago, Jae?” You ask, unapologetically staring him down.  “No, I can't." He says, jumping back under the covers with you. "Did my beautiful wife have a good night's sleep?” You rest your chin on his now bear chest. “Yes, I did.” He strokes your hair as he looks down at you. “Should we sleep in on the first day of our honeymoon?” You nod your head yes, adamantly. You come up to press a kiss onto his lips and he cups your face into his hands and kisses you back. He pulls away, but just for a moment to ask you a question. “Do you know how beautiful you are y/n?”

⸻

Monday May 8th, 2028 [7:23 am]

“Mommy!” You hear as your oldest hops onto your bed, waking you up. “Mommy, happy mothers day!” She presses kisses all over you, making sure that you're fully awake. “Thank you sweetheart.” You say, sitting up so you can give her a hug and another kiss. She giggles in your arms and gets close to your ear like she has a secret to tell you.

"We made you something." She whispers.

Soon after, Jaehyun walks through the door, balancing your youngest in one arm and a stack of pancakes in the other.

“Happy mothers day, angel.” Jaehyun tells you as he sits the pancakes down on the bed and leans over to give you a sweet kiss.

[theboywithburninghands]

I have cooked. But I’m also exhausted so I’ll just leave this here. This is the best chapter so far, imo. Hope you guys like it! @fernstarsblog

T/W: Drug and alcohol use, domestic abuse, toxic masculinity, era-appropriate sexism, vomit

Primum Peccatum Ch. 9: Do Ya Thing

The evening of the gathering arrived entirely too quickly and agonizingly slowly. Pomni sat on the ferry to the mainland, garbed in a simple black dress and some light makeup. She wisely hadn’t told her mother about the arrangement, as Mirella certainly would have forced her into another frou frou dress. She had bitten her nails down to the quick, so she brought along a small wood bead from her mother’s sewing kit to chew on.

Jax was clad in his gray-on-gray outfit, which he had cleaned and dried after the downpour from two days ago, opting for a plain white ascot. His usual glib demeanor had given way to poorly-masked dread, and he kept his gaze fixated on one of the ferry windows for most of the trip to the mainland.

“Thinking about jumping ship and swimming back to the island?” Pomni asked. “I’ll join you. I chose a rather aqua-dynamic outfit, wouldn’t you say?”

Jax let out a short sigh of laughter, his Cheshire smile returning for a moment.

“You must be terribly nervous as well. I suppose my little tantrum yesterday morning did little to ease your anxieties. I apologize for that.” he said, his yellow eyes still adhered to the window.

“Yesterday was… enlightening.” Pomni said. She flicked the bead in her mouth from her back molars to her bicuspids with her tongue. “But, at the very least, I’ve taken enough alkalizers to tame my pyrosis. May I ask you something somewhat personal?”

“You may,” Jax replied.

“…You haven’t taken an inordinate dosage of your… physick, have you?” she asked, clamping her teeth down smartly on the bead.

Jax laughed again, his smile remaining absent. “None more than usual. I would like to be able to sit upright in front of my father. Enough to keep me anchored.”

“This is welcome news,” Pomni replied. “Because I require your assistance tonight.”

Jax looked at Pomni. She in turn gazed down at her lap, the engagement ring sparkling on her left hand once again. She held the bead between her front teeth.

“In a few hours, this will be but a memory. Until then, my best advice is…”

He paused for a moment. Pomni risked a look up into his eyes. They were far-off in thought.

“…Be… genuine. Within reason.”

Pomni scoffed, sliding the bead back into her molars and clamping down on it. “You could be a politician with nebulous language like that.”

Jax held up a hand. “Pardon me. You’re correct, that was unhelpful. What I mean to say is…”

He took another few moments to ponder.

“Your parents always wish for you to behave. To act as others do, and nothing more. Well… they aren’t here tonight. I know what kind of person you are, Ms. Shutnyk. Be that person. She’s wonderful.”

Pomni felt a queer heat in her cheeks. She swapped the bead in her mouth from side to side.

“You said ‘within reason’ earlier.” she said.

“Ah, I did… Well, I suppose I meant… Hm. I suppose I meant that if you see any member of my family acting the goat, try not to completely verbally trounce them. We should attempt to remain in my father’s good graces long enough to collect his dowry, then we are free to excise him and anyone else unsavory from our lives.”

Pomni chewed the bead in her mouth.

“I understand if that appeared condescending, dear,” Jax began. “But I merely-”

“I understand. Continue our charade until it is safe.” Pomni interjected.

“Something to that effect,” Jax concluded. He looked out the window again at the approaching mainland.

The ferry came to a stop at Blackshell Bay’s pier, Jax and Pomni being two of about five passengers who disembarked. The ferry usually only ran until sunset, but unique hours could be arranged for a small fee and some advance notice.

“Looking forward to seeing the pair of you at ten pm!” the ferryman said to them. From his tone, it sounded less like a cordial farewell, and more like a warning to be on time or be left behind.

Jax nodded at the ferryman, having made the arrangements the previous day, before turning to look at the road.

“I suppose we should begin our trek. My father’s estate is two miles to the east. Although it may be to our benefit if- Ms. Shutnyk?”

Pomni had fixed her gaze on a horse-drawn carriage standing in one of the ranking cubicles by the pier. It was black, with gold leaf on the trim and the fellies, and was pulled by a pair of mustangs, who stood and waited patiently. The carriage driver was a shapeman in a red suit, his head composed of nothing but an overlarge set of teeth with two different colored eyes set inside. Upon seeing Pomni and Jax, he doffed his top hat, which sat almost comically small on his head.

“Ah, you’ve arrived! Please, take your seats. Your father is expecting you, Mr. Krolik.”

He gestured to the door of the carriage, which swung open neatly on its own. Jax managed a smirk.

“I suppose this is preferable to walking, n’est-ce pas?” he said. His faint smirk withered upon seeing the expression on Pomni’s face.

“It’s him…” she muttered.

“You know that shapeman?” Jax inquired.

“I know of him. He-”

“Time is of the essence, my young friends! Please hop aboard!” the shapeman sang.

Jax looked from Pomni to the shapeman.

“Well, if my father paid for his services, it would be incredibly rude not to use them. And that would be a bad start to this already dire evening.”

Jax approached the door to the carriage, turning after about six paces to look at Pomni.

“Pomni? Whatever could be the matter?” he asked, his voice tinged with worry.

“I… don’t believe that your fa-”

—

Pomni blinked, finding herself in the carriage, sitting across from Jax. The sun had sunk in the horizon, turning the sky a hazy orange, and the carriage clattered to a stop at the gate of a white manor. A large letter K had been inscribed in a bronze plaque on each gatepost.

“I… what…?” Pomni whispered.

“Ah, good, you’re awake.” Jax said, smiling faintly. “You nodded off almost as soon as we set out on the road. I suppose you haven’t been sleeping well recently. I understand.”

Pomni rubbed her eyes, some sand coming loose as she did so. Had she simply dozed off? She couldn’t remember one moment of the trip here, so she must have. Slumber was one of the few occasions where she didn’t remember anything. That must have been the case, there were no other logical answers. She couldn’t find her bead… hopefully she hadn’t swallowed it.

Jax offered a gloved hand as he helped her out of the carriage. She accepted it, only realizing exactly what was happening after her feet met the earth, and she retracted her hand a might too abruptly.

“I-Er… My apologies…” she muttered. Jax simply held up a hand to assuage her.

“Thank you for your services, sir.” Jax said to the carriage driver. He took three crowns from his pocket and handed them to the shapeman, who seemed to tuck them into his sleeve with a flick of the wrist.

“Enjoy yourselves, Mr. and Mrs. Krolik! Until we meet again!”

The carriage driver snapped his reins and the carriage trundled away into the sunset. Jax removed a heavy looking iron key from his other pocket and turned it in the gate’s heavy padlock, where it clanked open noisily and slowly whined open.

Pomni entered the property and took in her surroundings as Jax relocked the gate. It was a marvelous home, three stories tall with an impeccably maintained frontage. Unlike the roses and gardenias of her mother’s front garden, however, here it was perfectly level, lush gorass with symmetrically arranged trees lining the stone pathway. The branches were heavy with green, not-quite-ripe plums the size of cherry tomatoes.

“These are lovely,” Pomni said.

“The trees? It’s not quite their season yet. My mother used to make plum jam back in Ediacara, although I never had a chance to taste it. My father had these planted in her memory. My brothers and I just pick off and eat the ripe plums, but we also have to gather up all the overripe ones that fall into the grass before they attract insects.”

Jax relayed all this information while they climbed the steps to the front door. Pomni felt her stomach twist. She wasn’t ready yet… was it too late to flee as fast as she could and hide out in town. No, the gate was locked. Allfather please just let tonight end quickly.

Jax sighed to himself and knocked on the door. Someone opened it almost immediately.

“Ah, Jax! Dobry wieczór!” a female voice Pomni didn’t recognize answered.

“Dobry wieczór, Zuzanna, czy możemy wejść?” Jax replied. His Ediacaran was impeccable.

“Oczywiście, witam, witam!”

Jax motioned for Pomni to follow. Standing in the doorway was another rabbit woman, her fur pure white, in a black skirt and white silk apron. Her eyes were a light pink rather than the usual yellow. She beamed upon seeing Pomni.

“Ms. Shutnyk, this is our housekeeper, Zuzanna. She only speaks Ediacaran, but rest assured, she’s thrilled you’re here.”

Zuzanna shook Pomni’s hand eagerly.

“Witam, pani Shutnyk! Miło mi cię poznać!” she said.

“…Dobry wieczór.” Pomni replied. She didn’t know a word of Ediacaran, but the greeting was easy enough to memorize.

The foyer of the mansion stood tall, austere and immaculately clean, reminding Pomni of The New Hirnantian Historical Center. She visited the museum on a class trip to the capital city Biddeford when she was ten years old, and she recalled how tiny she felt upon walking into the sprawling atrium with her classmates. The key difference was no one is meant to live in a museum… so what purpose did such oppressive architecture serve in a home?

The floor was polished white marble, and a wrought iron black spiral staircase led up and out of sight to the second floor. Above them was a second floor oakwood balcony that looked out across the atrium, another symmetrical balcony above it for the third floor. There were four rigid-looking chairs placed by the staircase, colored a weak violet, presumably an antechamber for guests. Two hallways led off to the first floor’s eastern and western wings.

However, the largest set piece was a three-tiered silver chandelier suspended from the ceiling, wreathed in strings of crystal. The crystals reflected flashes of all-colored light from the electric lights burning in the center, exactly like the engagement ring on Pomni’s left hand. It was beautiful, if a might ostentatious, but Pomni’s mind immediately jumped to the logistical questions. How did one dust it, or change the spent light bulbs? Risk their neck on an over-tall step ladder, evidently…

“Well, you’ve arrived. I’m glad to see you’re on time, Jax.”

Drexl Krolik looked down at the three of them from the second floor railing. The blue rabbit, nigh on seven feet in height, stood in a dark green waistcoat, matching trousers and a red Brummell ascot. He had the same wooden pipe in his teeth, which he took a short pull from, exhaling a small plume of smoke.

“Good evening, father. You’re looking well.” Jax said. Pomni noticed he was standing even more at attention than usual.

“As are you. Greetings once again, Miss Shutnyk. How have you been?” he asked. Pomni remembered how much Jax’s father valued eye contact, so she kept her eyes matched with his, even as hot prickles ran up her arms and legs.

“I’ve been… I… I apologize, I dozed off on the way here. I’ve been well.” Pomni hoped that this excused the stammer in her voice. She desperately tried not to scratch herself.

“Yes, I suppose it has been an eventful few days for you, hasn’t it?” Drexl replied, keeping his eyes on Pomni’s. She felt as though she may erupt into hives.

“Father, have Altonicus and Kali arrived yet?” Jax inquired.

Drexl looked back to his son, Pomni at last able to look down at the floor and subtly itch her arms and legs.

“They have. I believe they’re in the tea room with Osvaldo.” Drexl replied, taking another pull from his pipe.

“May I be excused to greet them, sir?” Jax requested.

“Yes you may. Although both of you, please take off your shoes.” Drexl pointed to a nearby shoe rack, where at least six pairs of very long and wide shoes sat.

“Yes sir,” Jax said, motioning for Pomni to follow him over. The two of them took off their shoes, Jax back to his bare footpaws and Pomni in just her stockings. The marble was cold on the soles of her feet, and Pomni could feel a set of yellow eyes burning into the back of her neck. It can’t have been that interesting to watch her remove her shoes…

“Thank you, father,” Jax said, bowing shortly to Drexl before motioning for Pomni to follow him.

“I’ll be down in a moment,” Drexl said, putting one hand on the railing. He looked down at Pomni one last time, who followed Jax without a word.

The tea room was an elegant little place, with blue and white china plates arranged about a small Ediacaran oak table. The tablecloth was printed with floral patterns of pink, red, yellow, green and blue. Some tea cakes, freshly baked and dusted with powdered sugar, sat on a platter, wafting an aroma of dough and jam throughout the room. An enormous window ran along the opposite wall, opening onto the back garden, which revealed a view of the bay, lit up oily black and orange by the sunset.

“Ms. Pomni! Hello again!” Kali stood from her spot at the table. She wore a magenta dress, with a necklace of high quality pearls and her usual gorgeous smile.

“Greetings Kali, it’s nice to- OH!”

Pomni hardly had time to react before Kali threw her arms around her. The hug would have normally elicited a desperate attempt to squirm away, but Kali was an acquaintance and she could allow one hug. One.

“Kali, Kali, let the young lady breathe, for goodness’ sake.”

Her husband, a pink-furred rabbit about a head taller than Jax and in a blue waistcoat with a black ascot, approached the pair with an apologetic smile.

“My better half can be a might affectionate with friends and family,” Altonicus said. “Although, it’s probably because of this that I treasure her so much.”

Kali grinned and released Pomni, whose hair was slightly mussed up and now wore a faint shade of pink on her face. Kali went over to Jax and embraced him.

“And how’s the last of the litter?” she said fondly.

“I’m quite well, Kali. You seem in high spirits. Have you perhaps had a nip of wine?” Jax replied, smiling impishly.

“Ah, so that’s how you greet your sister-in-law? For shame!” Kali lightly swatted Jax with a glove.

Pomni glanced at her side, hardly noticing a gray rabbit in a burgundy waistcoat that had walked up alongside her.

“Oh, Osvaldo, good evening,” Pomni said after a moment of silence.

“Salutations, Ms. Shutnyk. I hope your affairs are all in order,” Osvaldo said. His voice was high-pitched and quiet, like that of a woodland owl.

“As in order as is possible, given the circumstances,” Pomni replied.

Osvaldo managed a fragile smile before glancing over at Jax. “Good evening, brother.”

“Good evening, Ozzy.” Jax replied. He adopted a considerably softer tone with the gray rabbit.

Kali motioned them over. “Come and sit, the both of you! Zuzanna made fresh raspberry cakes, they’re heavenly.”

Pomni took a seat beside Jax. Zuzanna entered the tea room on cue, carrying a large blue-and-white teapot on a red trivet.

“Masz ochotę na herbetę?” she inquired to Pomni. It was only polite to serve guests first.

“Yes please,” Pomni said, nodding and attempting a smile. Zuzanna poured her a cup of Ediacaran black tea, although it was actually a deep brown. Pomni always wondered why certain foods were named the wrong color… she took a cake so the others could begin to serve themselves.

“Will Boone be joining us?” Jax inquired, taking a cake after allowing Kali to have two.

“He’ll be along,” Altonicus said, an air of what could have been disappointment in his voice. “Osvaldo told us a moment ago he’s taken up another hobby.”

“Ah, so trap shooting only lasted a week,” Jax said, unruffled.

“Six days…” Osvaldo said. “Father refused to build him a shooting range in the back garden, and he said something along the lines of ‘The day I allow you near my rifle again is the day my fur begins flowering.’ Not that I blame him.”

Kali laughed ruefully.

“So what has he employed to curb his restlessness now?” Jax asked.

“You said cartography, correct, Aldo?” Kali asked.

“He wants to make a detailed map of the huntsman’s woods,” Osvaldo clarified, taking a cake. “For his own personal use.”

“That will last all of two weeks at the very most,” Altonicus said, the last to put a tea cake on his plate. “Father has stopped asking if any of these endeavors interest him enough to make one into a career, I would assume?”

“Father…” Osvaldo glanced towards the door to the tea room. “Father remains adamant that we inherit the company. Boone and I have both been conscripted into interning… I suppose Jax will too, as soon as the wedding ceremonies end.”

Pomni had a bite of her tea cake. The cake itself was on the heavy side, clearly made with an abundance of butter, but the jam was heavenly. Warm and tangy with a tingling sensation on the edge of the flavor, merging with the powdered sugar for a beautiful marriage of sweet and sour. She swallowed, and that one bite sat rather heavily in her stomach. She would probably only manage one of these, lest she spoil her already meager appetite.

“But since neither you nor Boone enjoy the work, what does he expect to accomplish?” Kali asked, wiping her mouth free of powdered sugar.

Osvaldo raised a long finger to his lips in in a “hush” motion, nodding to the open door. “Well… I believe that is why he’s placed such importance on the financial gains that will come from Jax’s marriage to Ms. Shutnyk. A reasonable financial cushion, especially after the whole affair with Dombrowski…”

“Ah, that reminds me,” Altonicus turned to Pomni. “Ms. Shutnyk, I cannot thank your family enough for assisting my father with that suit. I couldn’t have completed medical school without the funds we earned back from Dombrowski.”

Pomni had a sip of tea. It was a touch bitter, but it alleviated her cotton-mouth.

“I would say ‘thank my father,’ but I did assist him with much of the mathematics, as well as parsing through the contracts. It’s a miracle we caught it when we did, or Mr. Dombrowski may have had the chance to hide his misdeeds more competently.”

She wanted to bite off the rim of her teacup upon seeing Altonicus’s expression waver. Fantastic job, Pomni. One of the only beastfolk in this family that already liked you, and you implied his father was incompetent in his own home. A simple “you’re very welcome, Dr. Krolik” would have been enough!

“Alton, dear!” Kali interjected. “I did tell you I ran into Pomni in town two days ago, did I not?”

Pomni blinked. In town? She would hardly call the ferry “in town,” but she was humiliated enough about her response earlier that she held her tongue.

“Did you know I saw her reading Humidity?” Kali asked, grinning.

“Oh, the Houston novel I got for your 28th birthday! Are you a fan of hers, Ms. Shutnyk?” Altonicus asked.

“I’ve read everything she’s ever written. She’s an inspiration…” Pomni answered reverently.

“I agree! I’ve always found her prose to be-”

Altonicus immediately fell silent as Drexl strode into the tea room. The blue rabbit raised an eyebrow.

“You’re discussing that female author again, Altonicus?” he asked. Pomni tightened her grip on her cup at the way Drexl emphasized “female,” like some sort of pejorative.

“Yes, sir. Ms. Shutnyk is a fan of her work, and I wished to discuss it with her.” Altonicus said.

Drexl hummed in acknowledgement, picking up a tea cake and examining it. “Your father tells me that you’re an avid reader, Ms. Shutnyk. You’ll find that each member of my brood is quite well read, so you can rest assured that you aren’t among plebeians.”

“That was not a worry of mine, Mr. Krolik.” Pomni set her teacup down on her saucer. She managed eye contact with Drexl. “May I ask you a question?”

A few seconds of deafening silence passed. Pomni kept her blue eyes on Drexl’s yellow. Pomni felt her skin itch all over, and idly scratched her left arm with her right hand, yet she kept her eyes locked on the larger beastman’s.

“You may,” he answered at last. Drexl’s face remained placid, and his tone even, yet the aura of the room had shifted. He was not accustomed to being asked a question without his express permission to do so, especially from a human woman that only came up to his sternum at most.

“May I ask what you enjoy reading, Mr. Krolik? What is your favorite novel, if you can choose? I’ve been ever so curious.” Pomni asked.

Drexl opened his mouth and placed the entire cake into his maw. For a moment, Pomni could see sharp canines. He chewed the cake, keeping his yellow searchlight eyes directly on Pomni. She briefly looked away to brush non existent cake-crumbs from her dress, then looked back at him.

“Say, father-” Osvaldo began, but Drexl swallowed and tilted his head towards him, leaving his eyes on Pomni.

“Peace, Osvaldo. I haven’t answered our guest.”

The gray rabbit immediately sank into his chair. “Yes, sir.”

“My favorite novel would be Long, Long Ago by Geoffrey Kane,” Drexl finally said.

Pomni smiled. “Ah, what an excellent character study. I read that in secondary school. In fact, I wrote an essay comparing it to The Iron Rings by Connie McGregor for my literacy course. While I believe Kane has excellent prose, McGregor has a better understanding of the struggles of a working class woman, due to her time working as a secretary for her husband Theodore. You might enjoy that novel, it’s a contemporary to Long, Long Ago. Even if it is written by a ‘female.’”

Drexl made a noise of acknowledgement. The others at the table kept their gazes elsewhere, busying themselves with finishing their tea or dabbing their mouths with napkins, but their eyes were bright and alert.

Pomni bowed her head. “Forgive me, sir. I have a tendency to ramble when it comes to my favorite subjects. I’ve completely monopolized the conversation. Osvaldo, you wished to speak?”

Osvaldo’s reply was cut short, as Zuzanna and a green-furred rabbit in a brown waistcoat entered the room.

“Boone, natychmiast idź umyć ręce!” Zuzanna fussed, trying to block the green rabbit’s way into the tea room.

“I told you already, I have! Do you wish for me to boil them as well?!”

Drexl cleared his throat sharply. Boone looked up at his father, then his eyes darted about the room rapidly. They hardly sat in one spot for even a half-second before falling onto Pomni.

“Ah. Ms. Shutnyk is here,” Boone said. “Apologies for arriving late, father. Zuzanna always insists I sterilize myself like I’m prepping for a vivisection.”

Boone crossed the room mid speech, stooping absurdly low to shake Pomni’s hand.

“How do you do?” he asked, wearing a discourteous grin.

Pomni felt the corner of her mouth twitch, both at the jab at her height and his mockery of her nervous salutations from their first meetings. She kept her face placid and gripped his hand firmly.

“Good evening, Boone,” she said, her tone frosty.

The third-eldest brother’s irritating smile faltered at her accusatory tone, but he regained it upon seeing Jax, who had hardly budged since Boone entered the room. Boone clapped him on the left shoulder firmly enough for his entire body to flinch.

“And how is my baby brother? Enjoying yourself on Primum Peccatum, away from all us riffraff?” he asked, holding both of Jax’s shoulders and leaning towards his left ear.

“I’m well,” was Jax’s curt reply. Boone grinned even wider and mussed up the fur on Jax’s head, the purple rabbit blinking slowly and combing it back the way it was with his fingers.

“Kolacja jest gotowa!” Zuzanna announced, having regained her sunny demeanor.

“Ah, splendid, I’m famished!” Boone headed for the door, only for Drexl to sharply extend an arm to his side, cutting off Boone’s advance.

“Boone, you are to follow me to the dining room.” Drexl ordered quietly.

“Yes, father…” Boone replied. Drexl turned to look down at him and Boone shrank. “Yes, sir.”

Drexl turned his head back to its original position, Boone dejectedly walking back to the table as everyone got to their feet to follow the patriarch out of the room. Pomni felt a gloved hand, damp with sweat, gripping her own. She looked from it to Jax, who stared forward. Pomni put her eyes forward as well, but surprised herself by giving Jax’s hand an assuring squeeze as they followed after Drexl into the dining room.

—

Pomni enjoyed salads and crudités, but had never seen a meal that consisted only of salad. Usually, a salad came first, followed by the main course, then tea and dessert. But the only full dish on the dining room table was an enormous salad in a glass bowl about the size of a fisherman’s creel. It contained just about every kind of vegetable (notably missing sweet corn) and a rich, pink-red sauce. This, along with some dinner rolls and butter and a bottle of Silurian pinot noir, aged exactly 30 years, were the only additions.

Pomni ate slowly and unobtrusively, folding over the large lettuce leaves to fit onto her fork. The dressing tasted quite good, not too rich and with vibrant flavor, although it probably would fill her stomach less than the few bites she had of the tea cake earlier. Just as well, her appetite failed to improve.

Kali and Boone had the most food on their plates. Pomni supposed that Kali’s appetite was what contributed to her voluptuous figure. Pomni was jealous in a way. She could eat an entire patisserie and still look underweight. Truthfully, her figure didn’t matter to her , but if she looked “healthy,” less people would stare.

Jax prodded at his food with his fork. The laudanum must have been bothering his stomach. They would have to address that issue after things settled down.

Drexl had thankfully taken his eyes off of her, looking down at his plate. His maw was enormous, but he ate neatly, being able to fit entire dinner rolls into his mouth without any crumbs drifting onto his waistcoat.

“This is all delicious. moje gratulacje, Zuzanna.” Altonicus said. Zuzanna smiled and nodded in response.

“I must agree. This is wonderful. Is this a dish you enjoy often?” Pomni asked.

“Rabbitfolk such as us require a high amount of raw vegetables in our diet,” Altonicus chuckled. “So yes, we enjoy a lot of salads.”

“I’d appreciate having more salads. New Hirnantian food can be so bland…” Pomni said, eating a slice of cucumber off her fork, chewing and swallowing. “We have excellent fish, but only excellent fish.”

“You furless are lucky you can enjoy all different kinds of food. Fish, red meat, poultry… there is something satisfying about hunting and catching and preparing your own food!” Boone declared.

“And you would know this… how, Boone?” Drexl asked.

“Well…” Boone began.

“Need I remind you, you’ve only killed one animal in your life. Which animal was that, Boone?” Drexl asked. His tone was laced with acrimony, though he didn’t look up.

Boone sank in his chair. His yellow, frantic eyes flicked from person to person, and he tapped his heel rapidly on the floor. Everyone else kept their eyes on their meals. However, he caught Pomni’s eye before she could look away.

“You find my countenance intriguing, Miss Shutnyk?” he asked.

“Boone.” Jax sighed.

“I’m making conversation with the newest member of the family, brother. That is the entire purpose of this exercise, is it not?” Boone replied.

Pomni swallowed, not wanting to aggravate tensions any more.

“I was looking at you, Boone, I apologize for not speaking up. I was wondering why you and your brothers have different-colored fur.”

Pomni already knew the answer. Rabbitfolk, much like many other beastfolk, had a unique gene that made their fur multicolored, indeterminate of hereditary traits. It was shared with shapefolk.

“Ah, I know the answer to that one, Miss Shutnyk,” Altonicus said. “You see-”

“Alton, she was speaking to me,” Boone interjected.

“Your brother is a doctor, Boone, you are not.” Drexl said, again without looking up.

“Father, with all due respect, I can answer that!” Boone snapped. “One hardly needs a degree to discuss basic physiology. Anyone with the paws to open a textbook could answer that!”

Kali poured herself more wine.

“Boone, we have company, please…” Altonicus soothed.

“I’m merely stating the truth. I’m treated as a simpleton, unable to answer even the most elementary of queries, simply because Alton has some papers from an institute?”

“Boone Templeton Krolik,” Drexl thundered. His voice reverberated throughout the dining room. “Do not speak out of turn again, am I understood?”

Pomni thought about standing up and defenestrating herself through the nearest window. She shouldn’t have even opened her mouth…

Boone picked up his wine glass and drained the entire thing. A trail of red slid down the green fur on his chin, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand.

“Ms. Shutnyk,” Drexl said, turning to Pomni. “In understand that you’re well read. Have you read The Gray Accord?”

Pomni nodded. “Of course, sir. I’m well acquainted with it. I’m a good friend of the Gray Sister on our island’s chapter. We have discussions about the book.”

Pomni wisely kept the fact that she wasn’t particularly religious to herself. She mostly read The Gray Accord for its interesting parables and proverbs, she found most of the actual dogma within the text rather pompous and belittling of her gender. She didn’t even feel comfortable telling Ragatha that…

“Then you’re aware of Book Four, Verse 30 line 3.”

Ah, here it was. Book 4 was the premium source of quotations for all the zealots who liked to tell anyone that slightly diverged from their narrow-minded ideals that they were doomed to a dark eternity.

“I am. If I’m not mistaken, that is the verse detailing the roles a husband and wife should play in union, correct?”

“Very good, your memory is as sharp as your father said. The passage says ‘The will of the father is absolute, second only to the will of The Allfather.” Drexl said.

Pomni nodded. “That’s correct. Did you know that some clerics debate the phrasing of that passage? You see, in the original translation-”

“Ms. Shutnyk, I didn’t quote this passage to discuss theology with you.” Drexl said.

“Ah… I… I apologize.” Pomni felt herself shrink.

“I bring it up because I intend to exercise my Allfather-given right as a father to conscript Jax into my company. Altonicus’ practice is a lucrative one, and Jax’s marriage to you will bring in a tidy profit, but Osvaldo, Boone and Jax are the only ones left to inherit my business. And I have… my hesitations about Osvaldo and Boone’s financial literacy.”

“Father-!” Boone cried.

“Hush, Boone. The reason that I-” Drexl began.

“I haven’t done anything! Osvaldo has no ambition beyond singing! Isn’t that right, Ozzy?”

“Boone…” Osvaldo pleaded, but his younger brother continued on.

“He was planning on singing at Jax’s wedding! He would rather go behind your back than inherit your business!”

“Boone!” Osvaldo gasped.

“Oh. That was meant to be a secret, wasn’t it?” Boone put a paw to his mouth in mock horror. “Well, I’m sorry, Ozzy, but I simply can’t sit idly by and-”

There was a pop and a splash as Drexl shattered the wine glass in his hand. Kali cried out in alarm. Red wine and blood dribbled off of Drexl’s paw onto the white tablecloth, staining the sleeve of his green waistcoat a vague brown color. Shards of glass tinkled to the floor, Drexl looking down at his cut open paw pad. Jax kept his eyes firmly on the floor, bracing for the worst.

“Zuzanna,” was all Drexl said.

“Tak jest,” the maid said, hurrying to grab a washcloth.

Drexl removed a green handkerchief from his breast pocket, pulling a glass shard from his paw pad before tying the handkerchief one-handed around his wound.

“Osvaldo, Boone. Go wait in my study.” Drexl ordered, his voice icy.

Boone rolled his eyes and got to his feet, exiting the dining room. Osvaldo rose shakily, his voice quavering.

“Sir, I-”

“Now.”

Osvaldo made a noise like a smothered sob and moved for the exit. Pomni suddenly rose to her feet.

“I would love it,” she declared.

“Pomni…” Jax said reflexively, but she continued.

“I would love it if you sang at our wedding, Osvaldo. Send me a letter about what you’d like to perform, won’t you?”

“That’s quite enough. Osvaldo, begone.” Drexl ordered.

The gray rabbit turned and left without another word. Drexl walked towards the exit as well, holding his injured paw up. He paused and turned towards the table.

“I will be down in a moment,” he said. “Please remain where you are, everyone.”

With that, he left the room.

“…I’m very sorry, Ms. Shutnyk. My family is argumentative at the best of times.” Altonicus said, dabbing his forehead with a clean napkin.

“Jax? Are you quite alright?” Kali asked.

Jax lifted up his head. He looked on the verge of being sick. “I’m quite alright. We should-”

“Really be thinking of leaving.” Pomni finished, getting to her feet and smoothing out her dress.

Jax looked up at her. “Pomni, we can’t leave yet.”

“Yes we can. It’s actually fairly simple. We simply get permission from the master of the house, and walk out the front door.” Pomni replied, helping her fiancé to his feet.

“Pomni, we can’t, my father will-” Jax began.

“What? Be cross with us? He’s already cross, and I think the both of us have had quite enough of this. We shall dismiss ourselves, politely.”

Pomni looked over at Altonicus and Kali, who had also gotten to their feet.

“I’m… I’m sorry. The two of you have been nothing but hospitable. Assuredly, none of this is your doing. But I’d like to leave. Seeing as how your father and brothers are indisposed, that would make you the master of the house. May I have your permission to leave?”

Altonicus looked from Pomni, to Jax, to Kali, who nodded. He matched her nod and looked back at Pomni.

“Yes, feel free to leave. Thank you for coming… I believe we will be excusing ourselves as well.” Altonicus said. “Jax, are you quite alright? You look ill.”

“I’m fine,” Jax muttered. “Just fine.”

“I’m sorry things turned out this way,” Kali said. “I quite enjoyed your company, Miss Shutnyk.”

“It’s… quite alright. Really, it is. Goodbye for now. And tell Osvaldo I’m quite serious about our wedding.”

Pomni and Jax went back to the atrium, passing Zuzanna in the hallway. She said something to them in Ediacaran, but was in too much of a hurry to do much of anything else. Pomni hurriedly tugged her pumps on, glancing over her shoulder at the spiral staircase many times before heading out with Jax. The rabbitman didn’t bother putting on his shoes, and once he was outside, vomited profusely into the shrubbery.

“I see now why you never wish to return, Jax…” Pomni said.

“I… I’m sorry… that you had to go through that…” Jax muttered, coughing.

Pomni nibbled on her already thoroughly chewed thumbnail. “No, I’m sorry. That you had to grow up with it. Is your stomach sated? Or do you need to… release more?”

“I am… well enough for now. We should head back to the ferry before my father comes downstairs.” Jax said.

The two of them walked in silence through the small grove of plum trees. The night air felt quite refreshing on Pomni’s bare skin. She turned and looked back at the Krolik Estate.

From one of the windows, she could see Osvaldo and Boone, lined up with their backs to the glass. It must have been Drexl’s study, as Pomni could see a large wooden desk and a collection of books in a shelf. The large blue rabbit himself approached the two smaller rabbits. He looked at them for a long while before suddenly striking them both across the face with his open palm. Boone flinched and held a hand to his face, but Osvaldo nearly fell to the ground, quivering from pain and fear. Drexl grabbed the gray rabbit by the face and said something to him, Pomni distinctly making out the words “be a man” across his lips. Osvaldo’s face glimmered with tear streaks.

She felt a lump bulge in her throat as she turned to leave out the iron gate with Jax. As greatly as she desired to, there was little she could do to remedy the situation.

At least, not yet.

[z909-voided]

Entry 02

Dr. Alena Carrie. Hadal Blacksite.

I've been able to secure an office I can set up shop in for now. There's spare laboratory equipment in the cupboards, the tables. Plenty of spare data here-- it's hard to come by, for some reason. I didn't think Urbanshade would have had the chance to sweep through the lock down. Something else must be collecting the research.

There has to be something about my condition somewhere... All of my work had been abducted before I was convicted as a traitor. Who knew wanting to save someone's life would land me so much deep water?-- pardon the pun, heh... I just... I just need to find where they would have put it. I can't let anyone down here know who I am.

I've met some entities. The exchanges weren't unpleasant, surprisingly. They're more curious than anything. Maybe suspicious.

There was a Z-V06 at my door earlier. A strange one, definitely looked different than the rest, but it poses no harm. It has a very shy demeanor, and it can speak. I had no idea Z-V06 instances could take other forms or possess language.

Z-317 also swam by. We had a nice chat... Oh, no no, we had more than a nice chat. It was strange, and new, and I'll have to document the experience more concisely later. But we had conversed. There's so much I didn't know about it. It can communicate using a host's brainwaves and the host's prior established understanding, knowledge, and memory in order to convey its own ideas across. Isn't that amazing?

*heavy thumping sounds can be heard, likely Z-909's tail wagging carelessly and hitting the floor and furniture behind her*

Just... just imagine what the world could achieve if we could communicate like this? The inherent understanding and feeling seen, and knowing how to communicate despite language barriers and cultures. ...I had no idea Z-317 was even sapient... I want to meet it again. As dangerous as that is I mean-- c'mon! It can melt my brain through eye contact alone. ...But... well, it's not like I have much to live for now, so I might as well go out knowing as much as I can.

There is a strange entity who calls herself Rose. She seems nice. Too nice. I am not sure how to feel of her. But she seems to run a shop of sorts. It's fascinating to note that the entities down here, Z-Class and EXR-P alike, seem to be forming their own economic culture.

I've met an EXR-P that seems to be in a similar boat as I am, experimented on and tossed away. I'd like to befriend her, or study her. I'll take what I can get.

And I've met another who has shared food with me. Ellie, I think her name was. I don't understand why people err on the side of kindness down here when the environment and situation encourages non-altruistic behavior. I hypothesize this kindness as a defense mechanism, one that offers some vague assurance of a weak sense of safety in a temporary partnership with the more sentient Z-Class. It's starting to feel more like an exploit.

There is also an art AI present in the system of the Blacksite itself. Calls itself pAInter. I didn't think Urbanshade was the fancy art gallery type. I wonder why it's here, and how much it can see, and hear, and do.... It's also surprisingly intelligent for something meant to make generative art. It had shown me one of its pieces and... I can't lie, I was floored. It reminded me when I used to have time to do hobbies that I loved. ...Hm. Well, I suppose I have time now.

Too much time.... *sighs*

==RECORDING ENDS==

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

Blogs and anons mentioned:

🟣 anon

@/irradiblebullshark

@/drowning-thistle (💐)

@/the-expendable

@/fandomsarewhatilove

@/binarypictor

[idontevenknow7878]

Tales of a Flick, Part one- Criminology

Picture this; Your an intern at the New York Institute of Criminology, you’re cycling home back to your apartment, its a relatively warm September evening, nothing out of the ordinary. When you arrive and climb the stairwell, you start to notice something, you start to smell something rotting, growing in intensity as you climb each step. As you arrive at your apartment door, the smell has already became unbearable, so, you go and call the police.

Now replace “you” with “I” or “mine” etc. My name is Felicity, most call me Flick though. I’m an intern at the New York Institute of Criminology. It was on September twenty second where I first discovered the body.

“What are you doing here?” I heard a voice, it was soft and masculine, he had a slight southern accent, but it was barely noticeable. “Hm?” I replied, “You heard me, what are you doing?” He said, sounding incredibly annoyed at me, as if the mere idea of me standing in front of someone’s door, made him seethe with rage. “I’m going into my apartment, haven’t you picked that up?” I said, annoyed, but still trying to stay calm. “No you are not, you’re standing in front of my apartment.” His apartment? I’ve never seen this man in my life! “I’ve been living in this apartment for 3 years! I think I’d know if this was your apartment or not! And I’ll have you know, that I have never seen your face in my whole life! So I’d suggest to leave me alone and mind your own beeswax!” I yelled, I was at my breaking point, I could hear my voice echoing through the empty hall, the whole block could hear us, I knew it. “Jeez lady, calm down.” He said, almost sounding as if that my little outburst never happened, he sounded calm, too calm.

“Well, if this is your apartment, then can you explain the reason why it smells like someone died in there?” I snapped, trying to be as calm and collected as possible. “I- erm- I actually don’t know, now if you would excuse me I’ll be off.” He said, sounding reserved, almost like he was hiding something. “This isn’t even your apartment, is it?” I snapped, “Fine, you’ve caught me, this ain’t my apartment. BUT! Before you go call the cops on me, I do live in this block, so, I haven’t done anything wrong!” He said, sounding eccentric, like a little boy ranting about his newfound interests, it was weird of him, he was weird.

“So if this is your apartment, then what are you doing here?” I asked cautiously. “Same as you! Wanted to figure what that smell was!” He answered, sounding particularly giddy. “So, let me get this straight…” I scoffed, “… you also smelt it from god knows where?” I continued, “Yes! Yes i did!” He exclaimed, sounding almost, defensive? “Well? Are we just going to stand here or, are we gonna figure out where that damned smell is coming from?” He continued. I sighed, “I suppose we have nothing better to do.” I answered, “Names Thomson by the way, you?” I paused for a moment, wasn’t Thompson a last name? “Flick, and isnt Thompson a last name?” I asked, “Yeah, well isn’t Flick a hand movement?” He countered, I sighed, “Fair point, now, let’s actually figure out what’s making that smell.”

We both started knocking on the door, to no avail, we tried to open the door. Nothing. In a fit of pure frustration, Thompson decided that, if they weren’t going to answer the door, then he was going to open it for them. He pushed at the door until it burst open, to our collective horror, we saw something, a dead body. “WHAT THE HELL?!?!” I shreiked in horror, my mind was racing with questions. “Now, now l-let’s calm down!” Thompson blurted, I think he was trying to hide that he was also just as terrified as I was. “We- we need to call the police!” I yelled, but then I noticed that Thompson was slowly approaching the body, “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?!” I snapped, “Do you know how dangerous that is?!” I continued, “Relax lady, it’s not like it has rabies or anything!” He replied, “Besides, it wouldn’t kill for us to investigate!” He continued, I could tell that he was trying to persuade me into looking with him, so, out of sheer desperation (and a sliver of interest) , I went over to investigate the body, this was my chance! Right now I was just an intern criminologist, but if things go my way, (and if they died how I suspected they died) then I could prove to the higher ups that I was worth their time!

“Well, how do you think he died?” Thompson asked, with a tad more composure, I replied with “Murder? Could be poison?” “You might be onto something.…” He replied, “…wait…” Thompson turned the body over just slightly, to reveal, a knife wound in the right arm, “Definitely murder…” I said, my voice slightly shaky.

[deerydear]

Idle musings of a sour note:

Tumblr has a strange culture. I've enjoyed a lot of stories in my time... Yet, to come onto tumblr and find other people discussing them.... disgusting them...

"Other people", of course. I could play some grim, ugly refrain, giving names to this-and-that...

"I name you... ugly-monkey-butt! ......and I name you.... Poopoo Papa!"

lol.

So, "fandoms" (fan-kingdoms) can build around a story. They may develop their own "fanon" (fan-canon; i.e. things that do not actually happen in the story, but which are memetically-propagated within the culture of the fandom.)

So how do these fandoms propagate?

I feel that a big 'factor' is in people who have not actually read the Original story... or perhaps they "found out about the story through the influence of fandom", and so they may have been primed by the fanonical lense applied to it -- to already react to the events in the story a certain way.

This is why I cherish those stories that I read in the times before I founded a blog. I didn't 'instantly-react', I didn't update my blog to say: "HOLY SHIT GUYS! THIS IS CRAZY!"

It was me with my nose in the book, immersed in an intercourse with the characters of the story.

Now, are there interesting stories inspired by other stories? Yes, of course. Many authors have been inspired by art.

There is a difference in ecosystem between a "fan-collective", and a singular fan, and a small group of friends who discuss something together.

I get a very 'oppressive sense' from tumblr, and I always have, since I discovered it. Yet, there is also boundless creativity to be found on the world wide web... so what will I do?

i feel a good balance of nice energy & rude energy cioming through the monitor at me, and i think i will stay online for about 3 more hours. --- wint@dril

fucking lab rats drinking morphine-laced water when they're kept alone, and preferring normal water when they're socially-engaged. (both sets of rats have a choice of drink)

....but can't anything have a 'fanonical lense', so to speak?

Such as... trying to interpret the results of a scientific experiment. Just like what I just said... the way I phrased it. How I related it to my own set of experiences... that's all... so...

human.

I think I have a deep antipathy for ....something. I thought "the human race", but then I recoiled from that. Its more about the 'cultures' of people. Sick, empty, impoverished of meaning. Is this all a result of "the greater system at work"? Don't people have a choice in where their own lives go?

Yes, well, at the same time.... the product ends up very ugly if you try to force people to change.

Even if they acqueisce, agree, follow you enthusiastically... it just is not natural. Believe me, I've tried. I learned my lesson. Even myself: I guillessly followed a few self-assured idiots, and only through realizing that my "new output" had become irredeemably ugly, did I ever put it down. Who cares about heartless, intellectual arguments, in the face of beauty? Beauty is intellect that becomes integrated into the sense world. It's deeper... Simplicity.

In the theoretical realm, I sound really mean. -- like I'm just 'berating fans for no reason'. but if I showed an example.... hm, well what inspired me to write this?

continue reading...

A few people have written offshoot stories where the child B had loved the child A, and mourned their death. This became a popular 'fanon': that idea of a motive for revenge against L.

....but, I find that so.... saccharine.... cloying. Stupid. Perhaps that feeling stems from my own detachment from social bonds, wherefore I........

Well, actually...

My question is:

"Do you think you can replace Madness?"

As I see it, Grief is an exhaustible motive. Eventually you will get sick, and sick of paring yourself down and down to fit into the box of the "Victim", the "Underdog who is supposed to overtake the Suppressor".

what if you were doing things just to see what happened?

what if life was an experiment?

as yelyahnaloj said today, it's good to think of an experiment as telling a story. it cannot be separate from the context within which it took. At least... not without sacrificing data.

So maybe this child was inspired by what he saw going on around in life.

I think that human relations can be much more complex than simply "love" or "hate", or shades in-between. After all, we have Sadism and Masochism, which seem to light up both centers at once.

...feeling for another person can be "layered". Perhaps the ones "on top", (i.e. conscious) are not Falsities.... Are there rules to human cognition? Who is to say I haven't loved someone who I also hated so, so much. I was glad when he died, even though I love him. I still love him. People are more than paper.

Perhaps "fandom" can seem strangely neutered. After all, a blogger may want to "portray a good face". So-called "social-justice culture" is endemic to this website...

Actually, no, I think it's just a welcoming host. From what I heard, SJWism (and the annoying, cloying attitudes) may have originated (in their recent forms)... on the Something Awful webforums.

I think vanity is ugly.

I relate very much to Czesław Miłosz's profile of Beta:

"When I met Beta in 1942, he was twenty years old. He was a lively boy with black, intelligent eyes. The palms of his hands perspired, and there was that exaggerated shyness in his behavior that usually be­speaks immense ambition. Behind his words one felt a mixture of arrogance and humility. In conversation he seemed inwardly convinced of his own superi­ority; he attacked ferociously yet retreated immedi­ately, bashfully hiding his claws. His ripostes were full of pent-up irony. Probably, though, these char­acteristics were most pronounced when he spoke with me or with other writers older than he. As a beginning poet, he felt he owed them a certain re­spect, but actually he believed they were none too deserving of it. He knew better; in him lay the prom­ise of a truly great writer.

In 1942 in Warsaw, we were living without hope, or rather on a hope we knew to be a delusion. The empire which had absorbed our country was so mighty that only an incorrigible optimist could be­lieve in the possibility of a totally vanquished Ger­many. Nazi plans in regard to our nation were per­fectly clear: to exterminate the educated class, to colonize, and to deport a segment of the population to the East.

Beta was one of the young people who started writing during the War, in the language of slaves. He supported himself by various odd jobs. It is hard to define exactly how people earn a living in a city completely outside the law. Usually they took half-ficti­tious posts in an office or factory that supplied them with a work-card plus the opportunity to operate a black market or to steal, which was not regarded as immoral because it injured the Germans. At the same time, he studied in the underground university and shared the exuberant life of the resistance youth. He went to meetings where he and the other young peo­ple drank vodka, argued heatedly about literature and politics, and read illegal publications.

But he smiled scornfully at his comrades; he saw things more clearly than they. He found their patriotic zeal for battle against the Germans a purely irrational reflex. Battle-yes, but in the name of what? None of these young people believed any longer in democracy. Most of the countries of East­ern Europe had been semi-dictatorships before the War; and the parliamentary system seemed to belong to a dead era. There was no question as to how one came into power; whoever wanted to take over au­thority had only to seize it by force, or else create a "movement" to exert pressure on the government for admittance into a coalition. This was an age of nationalist "movements," and Warsaw youth was still very much under their influence even though, ob­viously, it had no sympathy for either Hitler or Mus­solini. Its reasoning was confused. The Polish nation was oppressed by the Germans; so, one had to fight. When Beta declared that they were merely counter­ing German nationalism with Polish nationalism, his comrades shrugged their shoulders. When he asked what values they wanted to defend or on what prin­ciples Europe was to be built in the future, he got no reply.

Here indeed was a well of darkness: no hope of liberation, and no vision of tomorrow. A battle for battle's sake. A return to the pre-war status quo, bad though it had been, was to be the reward for those who might live to see the victory of the Anglo-Saxons. This lack of any sort of vision led him to see the world as a place in which nothing existed out­side of naked force. It was a world of decline and fall. And the liberals of the older generation, mouth­ing nineteenth-century phrases about respect for man-while all about them hundreds of thousands of people were being massacred-were fossil remains.

Beta had no faith, religious or other, and he had the courage to admit it in his poems. He ran off his first volume of verse on a mimeograph machine. No sooner had I received his book and pried apart its sticky pages than I realized that here was a real poet. The reading of his hexameters was not, how­ever, a joyous undertaking. The streets of occupied Warsaw were gloomy. Underground meetings in cold and smoky rooms, when one listened for the sound of Gestapo boots on the stairs, were like grim rituals conducted in catacombs. We were living at the bot­tom of a huge crater, and the sky far up above was the only element we shared with the other people on the face of the earth. All this was in his verse-gray­ness, fog, gloom, and death. Still his was not a poetry of grievance but of icy stoicism. The poems of this entire generation lacked faith. Their fundamental motif was a call to arms and a vision of death. Unlike young poets of other epochs, they did not see death as a romantic theme but as a real presence. Almost all these young writers of Warsaw died before the end of the War either at the hands of the Gestapo or in battle. None of them, however, questioned the meaning of sacrifice to the same degree as did he. "There will remain after us only scrap-iron and the hollow, jeering laughter of generations," he wrote in one of his verses.

His poetry had in it none of that affirmation of the world that is present in the sympathy with which the artist portrays, for example, an apple or a tree. What his verse disclosed was a profoundly disturbed equilibrium. One can divine a great deal from a work of art, e.g. that the world of Bach or of Breughel was ordered, arranged hierarchically. Modem art reflects the disequilibrium of modem society in that it so often springs from a blind passion vainly seeking to sate itself in form, color, or sound. An artist can contemplate sensual beauty only when he loves all that surrounds him on earth. But if all he feels is loathing at the discrepancy between what he would wish the world to be and what it is in reality, then he is incapable of standing still and beholding. He is ashamed of reflexes of love; he is condemned to perpetual motion, to a restless sketching of discon­tinued, broken observations of nature. Like a sleep­walker, he loses his balance as soon as he stops mov­ing. Beta's poems were whirlpools of fog, saved from complete chaos only by the dry rhythm of his hexameters. This character of his poetry must be attributed at least in part to the fact that he belonged to an ill-fated generation in an ill-fated nation, but he had thousands of brothers in all the countries of Europe, all of them passionate and deceived.

Unlike his comrades who acted out of loyalty to their fatherland, on Christian or vague metaphysical grounds, he needed a rational basis for action. When the Gestapo arrested him in 1943, it was rumored in our city that he was taken as the result of an "acci­dent" to one of the left-wing groups. If life in War­saw was little reminiscent of paradise, then Beta now found himself in the lower circle of hell: the "con­centration universe." In what was then the normal order of events, he spent several months in jail be­fore being shipped off to Auschwitz. Incredibly, he managed to survive there for two years. When the Red Army drew near, he and the other prisoners were transported to Dachau, and there they were eventually set free by the Americans. We learned of all this only after the War, when he published a vol­ume of stories recounting his experiences."

[...]

"I have read many books about concentration camps, but not one of them is as terrifying as his sto­ries because he never moralizes, he relates. A special social hierarchy comes into being in a "concentra­tion universe." At the top stand the camp authorities; after them come prisoners trusted by the administra­tion; next come the prisoners clever enough to find means of getting sufficient food to keep up their strength. At the bottom stand the weak and clumsy, who daily tumble lower as their undernourished or­ganisms fail to bear up under the work. In the end they die, either in the gas chamber or from an in­jection of phenol. Obviously this hierarchy does not include the masses of people killed immediately upon their arrival, i.e. the Jews, except for those who were single and especially fit for work. In his stories, Beta clearly defines his social position. He belonged to the caste of clever and healthy prisoners, and he brags about his cunning and agility. Life in a concentration camp requires constant alertness; every moment can decide one's life or death. In order to react appro­priately at all times, one must know where danger lies and how to escape it: sometimes by blind obedi­ence, sometimes by calculated negligence, some­times by blackmail or bribery.

[...]

"In the abundant literature of atrocity of the twentieth century, one rarely finds an account writ­ten from the point of view of an accessory to the crime. Authors are usually ashamed of this role. But collaboration is an empty word as applied to a con­centration camp. The machine is impersonal; respon­sibility shifts from those who carry out orders to those higher, always higher. Beta's stories about the "transport" should, I believe, be included in all an­thologies of literature dealing with the lot of man in totalitarian society, if ever such anthologies are compiled."

[...]

"Beta is a nihilist in his stories, but by that I do not mean that he is amoral. On the contrary, his nihilism results from an ethical passion, from dis­appointed love of the world and of humanity. He wants to go the limit in describing what he saw; he wants to depict with complete accuracy a world in which there is no longer any place for indignation. The human species is naked in his stories, stripped of those tendencies toward good which last only so long as the habit of civilization lasts. But the habit of civilization is fragile; a sudden change in circum­stances, and humanity reverts to its primeval sav­agery. How deluded are those respectable citizens who, striding along the streets of English or American cities, consider themselves men of virtue and goodness! Of course, it is easy to condemn a woman who would abandon her child in order to save her own life. This is a monstrous act. Yet a woman who, while reading on her comfortable sofa, judges her unfortunate sister should pause to consider whether fear would not be stronger than love within her, if she too were faced with horror. Perhaps it would, perhaps not -- who can foretell? But the "concentration universe" also contained many human beings who spurred themselves to the noblest acts, who died to protect others. None of them figure in Beta's stories. His attention is fixed not on man -- man is simply an animal that wants to live -but on "concentration society." Prisoners are ruled by a special ethic: it is permissible to harm others, provided they harm you first. Beyond this unwritten contract, every man saves himself as best he can. We would search in vain for pictures of human solidarity in Beta's book. The truth about his behavior in Auschwitz, according to his fellow-prisoners, is ut­terly different from what his stories would lead one to suppose; he acted heroically, and was a model of comradeship. But he wants to be tough; and he does not spare himself in his desire to observe soberly and impartially. He is afraid of lies; and it would be a lie to present himself as an observer who judged, when in reality he, though striving to preserve his in­tegrity, felt subjected to all the laws of degradation. As narrator, he endows himself with the qualities which pass as assets in a concentration camp: clever­ness and enterprise. Thanks to the element of "class" war between the weak and the strong, wherein he did not deviate from the truth, his stories are extraor­dinarily brutal."

Here, you can keep reading the rest of his story, including what I left out in the beginning.

I first heard this story being told by another man, through his voice. These were not words on a screen, they had come alive. He was a Polish man. He understood the horror.

"I have no way of knowing the inner-workings of his mind."

I appreciate Mello's honesty.

Yet...

"How deeply do I grasp my own mind?"

....of my own choice?

Is it in Action? Is it in Theory?

Perhaps both, in some ways.

I'll end with some commentary on the 45th passage of the Tao te Ching.

[thewordworrier]

OTPtober 2022 - Flowers

OTPtober Masterlist Word count: 3,183 words. ‘Warnings’: FOC, vague fantasy setting, mention of death but no details or anything. AU: Magic AU Notes: ~ I’ve seen in a number of fanfics some kinda collective headcanon that Gerard’s grandmother was good with roses, so I’m kinda gonna steal that. ~ I was also heavily inspired by Musing Mira’s Havenmoor series on YouTube. I’m a big fan of her and eagerly await each new video.

Gerard’s sent on a trip to find “the witch in the woods” to see if she can help him with a family request.

Gerard huffed a little as the small, winding path that he’d been following through lots of different types of trees opened out into… A clearing of sorts? Plenty of trees, plenty of flowers, a fountain - it actually looked like a garden. And there, nestled sort of in the middle, was a cute little cottage. He sighed in relief and quickened his pace until he got to the front door. Before he knocked, he had a little look around, being mindful not to stray from the path. There was a wooden bench near the front door, against the outer walls of the cottage, a little table in front of it with a book resting on the surface. He was about to try and get closer to see what the book was when he remembered something his grandmother used to say. “Look with your eyes, not your hands, Gerard.” One of the windows on the front of the cottage was open and he could hear music coming from inside. That… Seemed like a good sign. Hopefully it meant that the person he was looking for was in. He took a moment to adjust the bag on his shoulders before raising his fist and knocking on the door. The music from inside stopped and a few more moments passed. Gerard shuffled from one foot to the other, nibbling his lip nervously as he waited. He was so focused on his shoes that he didn’t see someone watching him from the open window. Not for long though, because not long later the door in front of him opened, just a crack. “And who are you?” Gerard jumped, startled, and looked up to see roughly half a face watching him from the gap between the open door and the doorframe. The voice sounded… Delicate and feminine. And the parts of the face he could see appeared that way too. “Um,” he said dumbly after a moment. “I’m Gerard. I’ve been looking for the witch in the woods?” The eye he could see in the crack of the door narrowed and he guessed that she was frowning. “Well, does this look like the woods to you?” “I… I did have to make my way through a lot of trees to get here,” he reasoned. “Maybe it used to be more wood like in the past?” This seemed to amuse her because he heard a soft chuckle. “Hm, that’s a fair point. I suppose I can’t ask you if I look like a witch, considering the fact that you can hardly see me.” Gerard just shook his head a little bit. “That is very true.” The door opened just a few inches wider, but there was obviously a chain on the door. “What did you say your name was again?” “Gerard,” he said, holding onto one of the shoulder straps of his backpack. The woman on the other side of the door tried it out a few times as she looked him over. “Hmmm…” It was his turn to frown. “What do you mean?” “Why are you looking for ‘the witch in the woods’ anyway?” She tilted her head as she kept looking at him, studying him almost. “Um, I guess I’m on a quest of sorts,” he said, not really sure how to explain it all in a short manner. “Who sent you?” “No-one, really. Not officially. It’s more of a…” He paused. “Maybe more of a family thing.” “Hm!” Her tone sounded a little more upbeat. “Okay, I’m a little curious now. Hang on.” He blinked rapidly as the door closed and he heard a chain rustling a bit, so he assumed that she was unhooking the safety lock. Or at least, he presumed that’s what it was. After another minute, the door opened, much wider this time, and the woman stepped more into the light. Gerard blinked rapidly, a little stunned. She looked so young, she was so pretty - a little shorter than him, with her blonde hair braided. There was a flower in her hair, he noticed, even though he didn’t know what it was exactly. She was dressed simply; in a typical, mostly off the shoulder dress; ruched around the chest, gathered at the waist with an almost corset bodice; made of what to be simple fabric. Kind of… Common? But not typical of a witch. If that was what she was. “No,” he said quietly. She tilted her head. “No, what?” “You don’t look like a witch.” This took her by surprise because she just stared at him for a moment before she burst into giggles. It was a pretty sound, actually. And he swore that the colours on the flower in her hair got brighter. “Oh, ok okay,” she said with a smile. “Okay. Right then, Gerard. Take a seat on the bench under the window.” He nodded and did as he was told, settling on the bench carefully. After a few seconds, he wriggled to take his bag off, and put it by his feet with a soft sigh. “Big sigh from someone so young,” the woman said, padding over to join him, but perching on the low wooden table in front of the bench, crossing one leg over the other before resting her chin on her hand, her elbow on her knee. Gerard noticed that her shoes resembled slippers more than anything - she might as well not be wearing any. He blinked rapidly and glanced up at her. “Someone so young?” She smiled at him. “Well, most people believe witches are pretty much immortal.” Gerard tilted his head. “Are you a witch? The one I’m looking for?” “Depends,” she said. “Why exactly are you looking for her?” They ended up staring at each other for a few minutes before Gerard cleared his throat and shook his head. “Why would I waste our time if you’re not who I’m looking for?” He asked, genuinely curious. “Because I might have information for you if I’m not who you seek.” “Like your name?” Gerard asked, feeling oddly brave for a moment. “Aha,” she smiled. “Bold of you.” “You know mine though,” he said, shifting on the bench a little and glancing down at his backpack. “That is true, but how do you know that I’m not a Fairy? Because you should never give your name to those.” “Um… Because I don’t think Fairies are considered witches? And you really do seem like the one I’m looking for… Um…” “You can call me Shelly,” she said after thinking about it for a moment. “That puts us on even footing now.” Gerard smiled gently, gratefully, at her. “So,” she recrossed her legs, sitting up straighter with her hands in her lap. “Why are you looking for the witch in the woods?” “Um…” Gerard paused and nibbled his lip, trying to figure out how to word it. Shelly watched him. He was nervous - anyone could see that. Not only was he nibbling his bottom lip, he was almost picking at his nails - if he wasn’t fussing with those, he was fiddling with the hems of his clothes. “Take your time,” she said quietly. “Especially if it’s hard, as I feel like it might be.” Gerard swallowed and nodded a little. She was right, it was kinda hard. He distanced himself by looking around the garden for a bit, aware that she was still watching him. “It’s really pretty here…” “Thank you,” she spoke much more softly now; she sounded touched, actually. Gerard’s voice sounded a little… Strained when he spoke again. “My grandmother would’ve loved to see this place.” He swallowed. “She uh, she loved gardening. Could nurse any plant back to life. We used to say that she was magic, but… I’m not sure if she actually was.” “It’s possible,” Shelly said, keeping her voice soft and kind, because this was clearly a sensitive topic for him. Maybe a little raw even. “Plants are finicky things.” This made him smile a little. “She used to say something similar. I think she said… Plants are temperamental things, but if you look after them right, you will definitely be rewarded.” He was so busy looking at his hands that he didn’t see the little frown appear on the blonde’s face. She, however, noticed that he kept looking towards his backpack. “What’ve you got in there? It must be something special, because you’re being incredibly… Aware of where your bag is.” Shelly held his gaze a little when he looked up from his lap and locked eyes with her. “Is there something in there that relates to this… Family thing? Whatever it is that you sought me out for?” Gerard picked up on that last bit. “So you are the witch in the woods.” Shelly gently shook her head. “What is it you need my help with?” His eyes widened for a few moments before he cleared his throat and picked up his backpack. He gently put it on the bench next to him before opening it and carefully rummaging around. He looked up to see her watching him, her head tilted in curiosity. Shelly smiled softly at him, encouragingly, and she was pretty certain that he let out a quiet squeak, and that absolutely delighted her. She giggled as his cheeks went a faint shade of pink and she watched him go back to carefully pulling something out of his bag. “Um,” he brushed non-existent dust or whatever off of the delicate looking box, clearly hesitant to hand it over to her. “I suppose this might help but I…” “It’s precious to you,” she nodded. “I get that.” Gerard heard the rustle of the fabric of her dress and looked up to see her leaning forward. She gently, carefully, slowly put both of her hands over his; so she was kinda holding the box but not directly. Her hands were very soft, that much he noticed. And warm. She was so warm. “It’s okay Gerard,” she said quietly. “You don’t have to hand it over until you’re ready. Maybe you can try telling me what’s going on?” “I…” He swallowed and focused on her hands. Her nails were painted a pale pink with white daisy-like flowers on them. “Your nails are pretty.” “Thank you.” He smiled weakly, and despite the fact that he swallowed again, his voice still cracked when he spoke. “My grandmother died.” “Oh sweetheart,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.” “And her entire garden died with her,” he croaked. “Except… This one rosebush.” “Do you have a cutting in that box?” Shelly asked, watching him nod. “And you were looking for the witch in the woods because you think she might be able to answer some questions you have?” Gerard nodded again. “Y- yes, that. Like, um… We don’t know why everything died with her, everything except this,” he tapped the box gently. “And, she died really unexpectedly, I guess we were hoping that she… You? Might have some answers for us, or maybe some information that might be able to lead me to someone who does have answers if you don’t.” “Okay,” she said quietly. “Okay.” Gerard felt her remove her hands from over his and he watched as she moved to her feet. She smoothed down her dress and gestured for him to follow her. “I can take the box so you can grab your bag,” she said. “I promise I’ll be careful.” He hesitated, chewing his bottom lip for a minute before he nodded once and offered the box to her. True to her word, she took it from him and she practically cradled the box in the crook of her arm. “Thank you Gerard. Do you want to follow me?” Gerard grabbed his bag and made sure it was fastened properly before following her inside her cottage. He closed the door behind him, he wasn’t a monster, and followed her through to the back garden. This garden was just as beautiful as the one out the front - it was just smaller. He followed her to a greenhouse not too far from the back door. She gestured for him to follow her inside. “You might want to leave your bag just outside though,” she said. He did as he was told and slid the glass door closed behind him but he remained near the door while she made her way to a workbench. “Can I ask a question?” “Of course you can,” she gently put the box on the workbench and tucked some loose hair behind her ear. “Why are we in here?” Shelly turned to him, and when she noticed him still standing by the door, gestured to a nearby stool. “Take a seat, please.” He hesitated. “It’s safe, I promise. In fact, I think that you being nearby might help. Familiar energy or something like that.” This seemed to make sense to him so he carefully settled himself on the stool close to her workbench. He was close enough to see what she was doing. “This better?” She nodded and leant her hip against the workbench. “Much better. Now, your question. Why are we in a greenhouse?” Gerard nipped his lip. “Although, now you repeat the question back at me, it seems stupid…” “Oh, honey no,” she shook her head. “This isn’t a normal greenhouse, it’s got magical properties, as you’d imagine when the owner is a witch.” She grinned a little bit. “But anyway… We’re in here because, as you’d imagine, the atmosphere is very, very controlled, and the magic enhances that. I want to make sure that this cutting is well taken care of.” “I hope it’s survived the journey,” Gerard whispered. “I’ve tried to be really careful with it, but we also thought that because the bush didn’t die like the rest of the garden, it might be made of stronger stuff.” “That’s a sensible assumption,” Shelly nodded. “Are you okay if I go ahead and open the box?” “I…” He swallowed again before nodding once. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so. You do what you need to do.” Shelly took a step forward and gently cupped his cheek, smiling when he looked up at her face. Her hand slipped to his shoulder and she gently squeezed it. “Thank you.” He nodded once, wondering if he was feeling warm because it was warm in the greenhouse, or because he was blushing. “Okay,” she said quietly, unscrewing a small pot from on top of the workbench and rubbing whatever was in it over her hands. Gerard was certain that her hands almost glowed - like there was an outline over them; like an invisible pair of gloves. “Alright little one,” she said quietly, to the box and not him. “Let’s see what we have in here…” Almost tenderly, she carefully opened the box, setting it aside before focusing her attention on the plant nestled inside. “Oh my heavens…” Her voice was a combination of a gasp and a whisper. “Hm?” Gerard frowned as he looked at her. “What is it?” She didn’t answer him, instead she gently picked the carefully packaged rose out of the box. He watched in absolute amazement as, after a delicate hand movement, the rose was floating above her palm, like it was in an invisible vase; it was standing upright. Much to his relief, it looked exactly the same as it did before it had been carefully pruned off of the rose bush - it didn’t look like it was wilting or dying. He watched, opened mouthed, as the rose glowed as it floated above her hand, spinning on the spot very slowly as the colours of the petals intensified. “I know one woman who’s roses grew in this colour,” Shelly said before carefully plucking the flower out of the air and giving it a gentle sniff. “I… What?” “Every nature witch has a floral specialty,” Shelly explained, her eyes still focused on the flower she was holding oh so very gently. “Well, maybe plant specialty would be more accurate.” “I guess my grandmother’s was roses?” Gerard asked. “Mm hm. Roses in general and this particular colour,” a small smile graced her features as she carefully put the rose back in the box, but she left the lid off and started hunting for something. “So, nature witches have a speciality and a signature?” Shelly nodded as she pulled a small vase out of a cupboard. She put it on the bench before she retrieved a small jug. She noticed Gerard watching her and she smiled before turning the jug upside down, showing him that it was empty. She retrieved another small pot, sprinkled some of the “dust” from it into the bottom of the vase and then poured from the empty jug. Which was now no longer empty. She giggled at his wide eyed look and watched the water mix with the particles she’d added to the vase, making the water sparkle more than it did naturally when the sunlight hit it. “You not used to seeing magic, darling?” She asked, smiling a little brighter when he shook his head. “Might have to change that. It’s a wonderful thing you know.” “I… I know,” he said, watching her place the rose in the glittering water. Shelly watched the rose almost ‘perk up’ for a moment before she spoke. “You’re one of Elena’s boys, aren't you?” Gerard blinked rapidly before nodding. He realised that she wasn’t watching him so found his voice. “Y- yeah. That’s… That was my grandmother’s name, yeah.” “I’m so sorry sweetheart,” the blonde witch’s posture slumped a little as she sighed, still focusing on the rose. “Thanks,” he whispered. “I don’t believe that she died naturally,” Shelly continued with a shake of her head, pulling the box closer to take a look at the few leaves and the little branch cutting still in it. There was a bud or two connected to the branch and they made the blonde smile, only fleetingly. “No, I don’t think it was natural at all.” “T- that’s what we thought, really,” Gerard confessed. “Because there was nothing wrong with her, there was no warning or anything, and even someone we know who dabbles in medicine couldn’t find any answers.” Shelly just nodded, gently running her fingertips over the larger of the two buds from the box. Gerard watched the rosebud tremble slightly before the colours glowed almost neon shades for a second - if he hadn’t been watching anything other than her fingers he would’ve missed it entirely. The witch took some of the dust she’d put in the water and tapped it on the end of the stem where the bud had been cut before laying it gently on the workbench and pulling a small dish out of the cupboard. Water went into that before she carefully laid the rosebud in it. “I’ll be able to perform some tests on that in a little while,” she explained, seeing the look of interest and confusion on his face. He nodded, cleared his throat to speak normally. “Did you… Know my grandmother then?” “Honey, she taught me everything I know.”

[ofthepuzzle]

send me a ship and i’ll tell you

Kisara and Atem (even if you want to view it as platonically)

『 send me a ship and i’ll tell you: not accepting ! 』♚ ╰┈➤ @dragontamer05

Sure, I can experiment with it. The answers are under cut!

who hogs the duvet Hm, not entirely sure. And when that’s the case I put it as a draw. Though, I have a feeling it won’t happen often. Atem would make sure to cover Kisara with the blanket before he goes to sleep. In case it happens when they’re asleep— well, I can see them both being very considerate of one another and likely letting the other have it. Until one wakes up in the middle of the night and wraps the other in the blanket.

who texts/rings to check how their day is going I can see Atem occasionally checking on Kisa. Getting a message back would be enough for him to know she’s safe. I think they’d let each other do w/e they want through the day without worrying much. Unless it’s really late and they haven’t heard from each other then yeah it’d be reasonable to call/send a message.

who’s the most creative when it comes to gifts I imagine Atem would pamper her, despite Kisa’s modesty. Those questions here tho kinda have a modern-time vibe. But in AE I can see Atem writing little love letters to her, getting outfits, including jewelry, specially made for her. If Kisa likes something he would likely get it for her as well. In any modern AU that can work as well.

who gets up first in the morning I wouldn’t be sure how often Kisara sleeps and how many hours, but speaking in AE maybe Atem wakes up early? More so since his day starts when the sun rises and he has to get ready to head to the throne room. Kisara could possibly sleep in, unless she also has a habit of waking up early.

who suggests new things in bed Lol, Atem might be bolder when it comes to that, I suppose.

who cries at movies Oh, tricky. Unsure. Atem might or might not. Think Kisa is in the same boat.

who gives unprompted massages Prooobably Atem? Kisa strikes me as bashful. Though, Atem would ask first.

who fusses over the other when they’re sick Atem. More so because he’d wish that Kisara gets better soon. And knowing how Kisara used to be malnourished, he wouldn’t wish things to get complicated. Kisara might worry but I don’t think she would fuss.

who gets jealous easiest Can’t really say. Depending on the way the characters are portrayed, their relationship too. But I feel like they’d both be content and wouldn’t get jealous. Or if they do, they’re probably going to be reserved about it. Tho, I can see Atem showing mild signs?

who has the most embarrassing taste in music Maybe Atem lol. This sounds like a question for modern times so.

who collects something unusual I’d imagine they’d collect something casual rather than unusual. I can’t say what Kisara may like. Atem might like rocks and gems molded in the shape of a cat. He’d gift them to Kisa too.

who takes the longest to get ready Both take long. Atem has to style his hair, do his makeup, and possibly need assistance with his jewlery. Doing everything might take about two hours. And Kisara has long hair to brush through with care, so that can take a bit too. If she is wearing jewelry— that too.

who is the tidiest and organised Kisara, I suppose. I see Atem as neat but more laid-back. Maybe Kisara could be the same? Either or.

who gets most excited about the holidays Sounds like Atem would be. Kisara might be a little more indifferent but I can see her participating in them alongside Atem.

who is the big spoon/little spoon Atem would be the big spoon. Protecc the Kisara in his arms.

who gets most competitive when playing games and/or sports Oh— oh well. Atem can be competitive surely. But only if Kisa shows she wants to take on a challenge then. Who knows, Kisa might be secretly the competitive type too.

who starts the most arguments This is tough. They both are bold enough to start an argument if they deem something as unfair treatment, so hm. They sound like they would be mindful of one another and wouldn’t start arguments but carefully approach a topic. So maybe they wouldn’t exactly argue much?

who suggests that they buy a pet One suggests a cat. Another suggests another cat. And so on… And now they got fur babies.

what couple traditions they have I started to associate Kisara with the moon and Atem with the sun, so I think they would love to get up in the early dawn to watch the sun rising and stargaze at night when the moon is shining brightly.

what tv shows they watch together Modern timeline question. Maybe some drama shows, idk. They might be indifferent about TV shows.

what other couple they hang out with Hmm… I’ll leave that to your imagination. Double dates.

how they spend time together as a couple Sitting together, hanging out. Playing with cats. Atem could take Kisa places and they can have fun together. And maybe if Kisara is interested, Atem can introduce her to some games. I can see Atem combing Kisara’s hair too. Oh, some cuddling here and there!

who made the first move Atem. He’ll make sure to make it a special moment as well. Maybe during a full moon, and he’s got something made for her for the occasion.

who brings flowers home Atem. Bonus if he picks blue/white flowers for Kisa.

who is the best cook I feel like they’d both start inexperienced but get better at cooking eventually. Think Kisara would be better at cooking. Atem would be better at dessert dishes.

[lokifromvalhalla]

Inseparable

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗ Ivar The Boneless x Reader Genre: Fluff Words: ± 1 700

Ivar makes (y/n) taking him around, wherever they go. Both like it, no matter how much they deny it.

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

A/N: Just trying something out, I hope you like it.

The cold breeze makes me shudder a little, so I clutch my coat closer, sighing as I observe the commotion in the distance. It has been some days already since Ragnar returned, but there’s still this feeling that none of this is true and all of us live amongst a collective illness dream. Well, people do have their reasons not to be glad regarding his return, however... there’s a reason to celebrate, after all, even if he’s changed; our King is back. Sometimes I wish I could slap those new thoughts off his mind, and I can tell the boys share the same thoughts. Sigurd had that weird look when his father talked about England.

“Why don’t you bring me some water, will you?” Ivar pats my shoulder and I raise an eyebrow at him, shifting a little on my place on the haystack, right beside him.

“As if I were your slave!” I glare as I rest my chin on my arms crossed before me again. “I told you to bring some water, but no!” I sigh, observing some of the merchants sorting out their products while others offer their goods to the visitors or locals, though their rambling and persuasion is mostly always focused on the visitors, who don’t walk past the same booths everyday and notice their low prices are but tricks.

“Well, but now I’m thirsty!” His eyebrows knit together a little. “C’mon, I know you’ll be a good friend and get some for me, hm?”

“Who said I’m your friend?”

“You love me,” he chuckles.

“Try tolerate.” I force a smile, just to genuinely chuckle at the way he shrugs, and finally shuts up for once. To be honest, having Ivar talking about water does make me notice how dry my throat actually is, so I end up moving to get a horn with water from the barrel of the closest booth, soon returning to my previous spot. It’s sort of funny how Ivar sits up and reaches out his hand, just to clench it closed as I bring the horn up to down the water myself instead. “‘Told you.”

Ivar’s face scrunches up as he curses under his breath, soon interrupting himself once I hold the horn out to him and he raises an eyebrow at me before carefully peeking into the horn, humming at seeing it’s full a little over the half. “See?” He takes the horn in hand. “You have a soft heart.”

“Keep believing that.” A small smile tugs on my lips as I finally drop myself to my knees then fall forward on the hay again. “Have you thought about going to England?”

“Well, yes,” he breathes, “but not like Father asked me a thing about it. Yet, anyway.”

Will Ragnar simply ignore Ivar like that? Since even before disappearing, it’s been hard to predict anything, but it isn’t like he was fond of Ivar, from what I remember, at least not all the time. “Have you talked to him properly?”

“Not really.” Ivar shrugs.

“Give it a while.”

Ragnar should’ve asked him at the beginning, to be honest, when he was asking the other four. He even asked me, which I replied with an ‘I don’t know’ that earned me some weird looks from Sigurd and Ubbe, but I’m far from caring about what they think, even more if I want to earn my place in Valhalla. For the gods, Ragnar really is back.

“We are practicing archery tomorrow,” I sigh and glance at Ivar, who continues looking at the people while resting in a position similar to mine.

“We?” He raises an eyebrow.

I snort. “Don’t act like you’d not make me take you along anyways!”

“Well, you’re my entertainment!” He throws his nose in the air, a habit of his. A terrible one. “What am I supposed to do all day? At least watching you gives your dumbness a purpose while it keeps me from hunting someone down!”

“Get fucked, Ivar!” I smack him upside the head, leaving him chuckling as I stand up and head to the booths again to fix something to eat.

⟐

Aslaug seems to be tense since Ragnar showed up out of nowhere in the middle of Kattegat. As much as she at least tries to seem at minimum normal before her sons, something lies under her skin, poking her repeatedly and uncomfortably, enough to have her closing her eyes for a longer moment and taking in a deep breath whenever someone mentions something about the King.

This tension is extended to all of the Ragnarssons, essentially the same one, promoted by those confused feelings towards Ragnar. Ubbe’s tension slips through simply every motion of his, followed by a nervousness he’ll deny a little too quickly if he’s questioned about anything related to it. In contrast, Sigurd has a sharp annoyance that stretches itself to his furrowed brow and movements, and Hvitserk carries such a calmness that’d trick anyone who doesn’t know him better. Almost like Bjorn, but Bjorn’s coldness is still something else.

Sigurd’s eyes meet mine for a few seconds then he sighs, continuing to munch on his food in silence, like everyone else.

“We’re going to the woods tomorrow, Mother,” Ivar cuts through the silence as if it were any other day, and no one was with the King getting under their skin. Aslaug hums, furrowing her eyebrows whilst turning to Ivar. “(Y/n) and I.” He motions towards me before taking a bite of his meat.

Aslaug follows his gaze to me, and eventually nods with a hum. “Sure, it will be good for you.”

Ivar hums in agreement, nodding, and glances towards me, as if looking for a confirmation that I grant him by raising my eyebrows lightly, not bothering enough to stop eating. The silence was quite comfortable in the first place, to be honest.

“We’re going to train, you know,” Ivar continues and pauses to take a sip of his wine. “For England.”

Sigurd looks at Ivar, tilting his head a little, then glances at his other brothers in search of a similar reaction that he never once finds. “You weren’t even asked!”

Ivar still munches on his food when he hums questioningly and furrows his eyebrows, still unamused, as he looks around in a mocking way. “And who are you to know, Brother?”

I’ve been with them for many years now to be impressed with the bickering that ignites between the four in simply each moment, and when Bjorn is around, I at least have someone else to talk to until the bickering dies down instead to immersing back in my own thoughts in the meantime, usually just nodding in agreement whenever someone bothers to ask me something. This time, though, I don’t know if I want to be alone with the ringing thoughts of Ragnar having hidden everything about the settlement in England for so long. The way so many people thought their loved ones were fine just to know they’ve not been with us for a long time already, and Odin didn’t even let them know about it.

“Enough!” Aslaug’s sharp tone cuts through my thoughts before she brings herself up to her feet and ankles out of the room; I look at the four to see Ivar glaring at Sigurd. Gods. It’s all probably about the witch thing again.

Aslaug is nowhere to be found until after we’re heading to our bedrooms, though Sigurd had isolated himself in his place first, and Ivar was the last, asking me where I happened to be going when I went to leave the main room with Ubbe. Of course I stayed back, no matter if I wanted to leave Ivar back with another slap upside the head, even more when he’s poking me earlier than usual the next morning, sitting on the ground and next to my bed with proper clothes already on.

“Fuck,” I groan before getting up.

We check on Floki on our way to the woods, exchanging a few words with Bjorn, then disappear among the trees on the way to the guys’ hunting site, where we finally come to a stop and take a few sips of fresh water from the canteen to finally get the bows and arrows in hands.

Ivar is better at it than me despite less time on practice—absolutely no surprises here. A chuckle comes from him once I miss the dead deer hanging in the distance, but it’s difficult to even keep myself gripped to reality. The next shot doesn’t even go past the pulled string, only for the bow to be put down as I take a deep breath and let the arrow down with it.

“You’re as enthusiastic as a corpse.” Ivar doesn’t look at me, one eye closed as he aims, letting go of the string to send the arrow piercing through the middle of the deer’s head perfectly. A proud smile tugs on his lips once he lets his bow down next to the stump he sits on.

“I am tired,” I sigh, blinking a couple of times in a fruitless attempt to get rid of the weight on my eyelids. “I couldn’t sleep well last night.”

“That’s what happens when you don’t get a good night kiss from me!” He nods to himself with such a confidence that I can’t help but to snort, breathily laughing until he threatens to hit me across the leg with a spare arrow.

“As if! Shut it!” I take the arrow from his hand to hit him lightly on the shoulder with it; he pouts at me with a glare. “You’re gross!”

Ivar scrunches his nose, but shrugs, taking the arrow back. “Well, I’m just letting this slide because—”

“Because nothing,” I grumble, helplessly chuckling at his angry glare, which worsens once I shove him to the side to take a seat next to him on the stump, wrapping an arm around his torso so he doesn’t fall over. “Poor boy,” I tease, running a hand through his hair to fix the few stubborn strands back like the others, and despite scoffing, Ivar does let me do it, his eyes drifting down until I let my hand fall again.

“Annoying,” he mumbles with a sigh, though I don’t have the opportunity to say anything again before his lips are pressed to mine. I furrow my eyebrows as I try to seek for any further explanation for this, but all he does is to smile and nod, picking his things from the ground again.

[primofate]

Headcanon

Scenario: Levels of Intimacy

Characters: gn! reader x Diluc, Kaeya, Albedo, Childe, Zhongli, Xiao, Chongyun, Venti, Dainsleif

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Diluc

When you first start dating, is a man of few words, but definitely shows that he cares. Is the type who sends you flowers but doesn't say anything about it.

Gradually warms up a bit more as time passes.

Is not a fan of public displays of affections but you'll notice that he'll touch you in subtle ways. Touching your lower back to steer you to the right path, touching your shoulder to get your attention, touching your arm when he just feels like it.

You'll catch him looking at you once in a while and when you ask what's wrong he shakes his head and will say something like, "Nothing, just got distracted,"

When you're alone, will lay his head on your lap for whatever reason. Will usually be reading a book and the next time you glance at him he would have fallen asleep, peaceful look on his face.

People will notice that his mood changes when you're around. He's a lot less on edge and will take a more relaxed stance.

People will also notice the gentle look on his face when he talks to you, compared to the stiff look he gives others.

Will give heaps of forehead kisses.

Kaeya

Has no problem showing affection right from the beginning.

Cheek kisser. Anywhere, anytime. Whenever he feels like it, for no reason at all.

When you're out in town, the type who will sneak up behind you, cover your eyes with his hands and ask, breath above a whisper and near your ear, "Guess who?" you know who it is every time.

If not that, then he'll just hug you from behind and "Caught you, you're coming with me," mischievous glint in his eyes.

People will notice how he can't seem to take his eyes off of you.

Is somehwhat flirtatious but always reminds you that you're number one. "I might look like I'm joking, but trust me, I'm serious about you,"

When you're alone, is the type who will take you in his arms, drop you in bed and just cuddle with you while playing with your hair.

Albedo

Doesn't say much when you first start dating. Actually you don't even know when exactly you guys started dating, you just had a hunch that it was happening because he starts to give you kisses on the top of your head whenever you would part ways with him.

When you ask about it, "Hm? Dating...? Yes, I suppose that's what you call it. I'd rather call it as an exclusive privilege to you,"

Asks for your company whenever he can. You don't do much, but just watch him work. He's happy with just being in the same room as you.

Will sometimes be conscious about the fact that you might be bored "Here, would you like to try?" is just an excuse for him to guide your hand on how to do specific alchemy experiments.

When he feels tired and burnt out will just appear next to you and hug you round the waist, rest his head on your shoulder and murmur "Just a small break,"

When you're out in town together and someone comments about it being rare to see Master Albedo accompanied by someone, he would reply back gesturing at you, "They are... My life partner. So, it's only natural you'd see us together."

Life partner=his word to indicate that you're dating

When you're alone, would ask you to fix his hair or tie his hair up cause "you're the only one who knows how to do it properly, aside from me,"

Childe

Absolutely cannot keep his hands to himself.

Always greets you with some form of hug, usually bear hugs or let me nuzzle into your neck hugs.

Would glue you to his hip if he could.

Visibly happy in public with you, dotes on you and asks you what you'd like to do today.

People can literally see hearts hovering around his head when you're around.

Hand holding a must.

Will not let you do any manual work or labor. Got something to carry? Will take it from you. Need to wash the dishes? Just use his vision. Having trouble with that jar? He might break it for causing you so much trouble.

When you're alone, will always be the big spoon and trail kisses on your neck.

Has a permanent smile plastered on his face when he sees you. "You're just too cute!"

Zhongli

This man is gentle and yet manages to be firm about what he wants, which is you, and no one else.

Does not show a wide range of emotions, he's either calm and collected or agitated and cautious, depending on situations that concern you.

Agitated and cautious because he feels like you're such a fragile thing.

Will enjoy watching your face light up at his suggestions and will get that soft hint of a smile on his face. "Strange, this effect you have on me. Quite an extraordinary thing, and that would be saying a lot considering I've been around for thousands of years,"

When he accompanies you out to town will walk a step behind you but regularly check on you by standing next to you, and reaching out to touch your shoulder that is further away from him. Thus you're momentarily in a semi-side hug. "Everything alright?"

When someone in public comments about you and him making a cute couple, he feels a sense of pride and confirms it. "It is as you say. I wonder from time to time how I've managed to have someone like them stay with me,"

When alone with you, is the type to pull you on their lap and keep you there for as long as he can while he works.

Xiao

Is totally a cold one even if you start dating. But it doesn't mean that he doesn't care, he just has his own way of showing it.

However the more you grow on him the more you find out that he gets flustered unusually easy.

When you suggest a date, for example, his face will get that subtle hint of red. "I-I don't have time for that,"

Sometimes he would say he wouldn't want to do something with you, but then when he finds out you went and did it by yourself he gets moody. "Huh? You already went to get ice-cream?!" will glare at nothing in particular until you say you can go with him next time. "Fine..."

Has periods of being worried that you're tired of him. You know when it happens because he gets quiet, and he will suddenly just grab your wrist, look at the ground, and mumble "... I know I'm not the best at showing and saying how I feel but..." you understand anyway, and are happy with just that.

Is actually extremely possessive. Usually will not hold your hand when walking around town but when a man somehow approaches you he's there in the next second and pulls you into a back hug while staring the guy down.

When you're alone, loves to have you lay your head on his lap and have quiet conversations with you.

Chongyun

is a shy boi and rather unsure of himself.

will gain confidence along the way.

“U-Uh, would you like to hold hands, maybe?” you tell him he doesn’t have to ask at all but he still asks the first few times anyway

Is very thoughtful about your schedule and workload, will constantly worry about you when you seem like you’re tired or overworked

When he knows you’re too tired he gets this sudden assertive side of him “That’s enough for today isn’t it?”

Will add a kiss to your temple, on the side of your forehead.

Sometimes will start to panic about something and turns to you for help. It’s actually something easy to solve so you help him and he would sigh and say “What would I do without you?” and leans in for a hug.

When you’re alone, has a surprisingly assertive side that pulls you in for a hug whenever he feels like it. Sometimes you’d fall together in bed and just cuddle while talking.

Venti

“A-ha! There you are!” will open his arms and wait for you to come to him. If you do, he does his trademark laugh and hug you tight. If you don’t, will stare at you with a questioning face but break into smile and say “Oh, too shy cause we’re out in public? Come on, it’s just a hug!” 

Has no issues telling everyone in town that you’re a couple. “Oh yea, have you met Y/N here? Cute right?...And all mine!” Cue the trademark laugh again.

loves to sit on the sofa, lean his back on the arm of it and have you in his arms just looking down at you do your own thing, mostly reading. If not, then just taking naps with you there.

When the two of you are alone, he sometimes gets this sad or thoughtful look on his face, which is super rare on his usually cheerful demeanor. You would ask what’s wrong and he would snap back to reality saying, “...I was just thinking about...how it would be without you,” jumps back quite quickly and grins, “but that’s not gunna happen, you’re stuck with me till the end!”

Out in public when someone comments you’re such a cute couple he would readily agree and give you a side hug, arms round your shoulder, cheek pressed up against yours. “We’re the cutest you’ll ever see!”

Dainsleif

the definition of protective is this man

is very subtle with his touches, affection and words, but despite that you can feel his unparalleled loyalty to you and is surprisingly gentle.

loves to greet you with a one handed hug and a kiss on the side of your lips.

Out in town, will start off just walking beside you but you wouldn’t even notice when he had slipped his hand in yours. His type of hold is the type of hold that makes you feel like he’s never letting go until you do.

While out adventuring with you, will have these moods where he’s just clingy. Will pull you by the wrist, trap you in between him and a tree and lean in for a kiss on the lips, gently.

Will pull back a moment later, cheeks flushed pink and apologize. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” 

loves to have you lean on his shoulder when you rest, and will watch you doze off peacefully.

[360iris]

Wanna Be Down (George Weasley x Reader x Fred Weasley)

Warnings: Pure smut! She/her pronouns for the reader! No funny business between the boys I promise! There’s bound to be some typo that I missed, sorry ‘bout that!

Word count: 1,628

Summary: There’s a birthday, a bunny costume and The Twins... What could go wrong?

A/N: This was originally meant to drop on their birthday, April 1st... I’m 28 days late for that but hey, better late than never! It’s been collecting dust for the entire time and I wanted to set it free. I hope someone enjoys it!

“You want me to- to wear a bunny outfit and have the two of you…” You faltered nervously, the words seemed foreign on your tongue.

“-fuck you in it.” Fred finished for you with a wide grin, as if this was the most in the ordinary activity to plan.

The twins wanted to sleep with you? This was the first you’d heard of it, that’s for sure. And though the thought sent waves of excitement through your body, the prospect was daunting.

You’d been friends since diapers, a meager six hours separating your births. And whether the bond that formed later was predetermined by fate, or by pure chance, it was wholly indestructible.

Through the years, the three of you operated perfectly insync. Remaining quite persistently glued at the hip; completing every task deemed worthy enough as an odd unit.

There was an unspoken rule that each of you would make sure that the others felt equally included in activities.

So why should taking your virginity be any different?

“We’ll be twenty in a few hours, Y/N. Don’t you want to kick off the new decade with a bang?” George asked, his face genuine and voice laced with just the right amount of sweetness. He always did know how to persuade you into going along with Fred’s crazy schemes.

“Quite literally in this instance.” Fred added cheekily and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“Both of you have had sex before though. Plenty of times in fact! You told me about it afterwards! In vivid detail at that! Why are you so worried about me now?” Your brows were furrowed, lips turned downwards in a pout.

Sitting criss-cross on your bed, you tugged one of the many pillows on your bed into your lap. Squeezing it tighter when you met their gazes again.

Fred had his hands tucked into his jean pockets, happy as ever. He acted as if it was only a matter of time before he’d get the answer he wanted.

George on the other hand, at least looked like he was having a conversation with you; and not like he was just waiting for you to realize you’d never actually said no to them before. His eyes were soft, assessing your demeanor before approaching your spot at the foot of the bed.

“You know you’re our favorite girl. Don’t you, Y/N?” He questioned and you suddenly felt smaller looking directly up at him. Ginger waves caressing his cheeks and pooling at his shoulders.

“I mean- I suppose.” You replied dumbly.

“Who do we always come back home to?” He asked again, his left hand lifting up from his side to comb through your hair. The pads of his fingers brushing against your cheek as they went.

“Me.” Your answer was hushed, though it was only the three of you in the flat. They’d closed the shop downstairs hours ago.

“And who trails after me as much as she can during the day, practically jumping into my lap the first opportunity she gets?” His voice was getting lower and his gaze remained fixed to you, you tried your best not to squirm.

“M- Me.”

“Lastly, whose the babygirl that slips into my bed at three in the morning because she stays up too late and gets scared?” He was teasing you now, you knew it, but still gave him a reply.

“Me, George.” Both of his hands were cupping your face now, fingertips laced in your hair, you couldn’t look away even if you wanted to.

“So when I ask my favorite girl to put on the outfit I picked out for her, so I can make her feel good on her birthday, what do you think I want to hear back?” A single brow arched as he waited for your answer, ignoring Fred’s quiet “I helped choose it too, y’know.”

Wrapping your fingers around his wrists, you thought about all the times he and Fred had slept with other girls. How deep down you’d wished they’d looked at you the same way.

He allowed you to remove one of his hands, a dark smirk splitting across his face when you’d slowly brought it between your legs. Only coming to a stop when he was cupping your heat.

“I think- I think I’ve been holding out for you.” It was no higher than a whisper, but it’d been the truth nonetheless. He smiled wider at this confession, leaning in and pressing a light kiss on your forehead.

“All the more reason not to disappoint.” He responded, you faintly registered rustling from behind him.

“Y/N, dear?” Fred called.

“Hm?”

“Time to put the outfit on.”

It’d been relatively easy to slip into the get-up. The bodysuit, wrist cuffs and neck piece fitting like a glove.

“When did you get my measurements?” You asked, looking down at yourself.

“Since when have we not had your measurements?” Fred laughed, pulling you onto the bed with him until your back was flush against his chest. Your head comfortably leaning back on his left shoulder.

George following after you, settled for sitting up in front of you, his knees digging into the pink duvet.

“The ears are a nice touch.” He remarked with a pleased smirk. “Don’t you agree, Fred?”

“Absolutely. All white suits her.” He replied matter-a-factly, hands already roaming your torso. Ghosting over your exposed thighs, he hooked a finger under the bikini line of the bodysuit and let it snap back into place. Your hips jutted outwards at the impact.

“Want to hear you ask for it, Y/N.” George was palming your calves, making you feel small again.

“What do you want me to say?” Your brows furrowed curiously at the request, breath hitching when he utilized his grip to pull you further down Fred’s chest. Your ankles eventually hooking against George’s shoulders.

“Want him to play with your little cunt, don’t you baby?” Fred asked from above you, heat rushing to your face at his words.

“Y- Yeah.”

“Then ask, darling.” He grinned at your eyes widening as you met his gaze upside down.

Turning your attention back to George, you absentmindedly bit at the end your thumb nervously. Sure you’d used curse words like anyone else in the world, but the thought of actually asking the twins to fuck you was on a level you’d never thought you’d reach.

“Georgie?” You tried carefully.

“What is it, baby?” He replied softly, a smile playing on his lips, patiently waiting.

“Want- Want you to make me feel good.”

“How?” He prompted, delighting in your fidgeting. Fred however wasn’t feeling as patient, sending a soft smack to your inner thigh.

“Don’t have all day, bunny.” He chided, slowly massaging the site.

“Want your cock, Georgie.” You finally relented, wanting nothing more than to hide your face in your hands, but you feared being spanked again by Fred. 

George rewarded you with a kiss, palming your clit through the material. He swallowed up every whimper that escaped your lips, only answering by expertly thumbing the area faster. 

“Let’s see how wet you are, bun.” Fred whispered, pulling the bodysuit aside to reveal your heat. Running a finger through your folds, he promptly brought it to your mouth. Smirking widely when you began meekly sucking at the digit.

“I’m gonna get you ready, okay sweetheart?” George asked, mouthing at your neck. He didn’t move until you garbled something close to “okay” through Fred’s fingers sadistically pressing down your throat.

Armed with plenty of lube, the first finger sliding into you felt like nothing. By the third, he resorted to distracting you by rubbing your bud to ease the initial stretch. Although nothing could have prepared you for how uncomfortable taking his tip was.

It was a slow process, full of the boys tenderly guiding you to breathe deeply and relax your muscles. With the abundance of their attention focused on outweighing the discomfort with pleasure, eventually the mild pain began to blur around the edges. 

The level of satisfaction that rolled over you when you’d finally reached the hilt was like no other. 

“Good girl.” Fred purred into your hair as George wiped away a stray tear from the corner of your eye. “Took it like a champ, didn’t she, Georgie boy?”

“Sure did, Fred. Squeezing me so nicely too.” He replied smiling proudly.

“Full- So full.” You whimpered blearily, not sure which boy you were grasping for. Each accepted one of your wandering hands, giving them an encouraging squeeze.

“You’re doing so well, babygirl. How about you let me make you feel good now, hm?” George’s voice was gruff as he patiently waited for you to nod back in response.

Soon the discomfort had melted away, leaving only the easy slide of George’s length and the gratification of being engulfed between the loves of your life. 

You promptly got lost in the jumble of mouths, hands and pleasure. 

“Gonna come for us, love?” George asked, holding your hips done to focus his thrusts. 

“Can I- Can I, please? Please let me come!” You whined desperately, unable to distinguish whose hands belonged to who.

“Go ahead, bunny.” George answered and it was all you needed to hear. Your visioned blurred as your toes curled, the only thing you could register was that he was fucking you through it. Fred’s fingers circling your clit didn’t let up until you were pathetically trying to pull at his wrist.

A weak mewl fell from your lips as George pulled out of you spent. Simpering under his praises, you closed your eyes. 

The sudden smack against your face was sobering, leaving you blurrily blinking up at Fred’s eager grin.

“I hope you didn’t think you were off the clock, bun.”

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS DAYLIGHT Vol. 3 Sakamaki Reiji Stellaworth Tokuten Drama CD: “Sadistic Date”

Original title: サディスティックデート

Source: Diabolik Lovers Daylight Vol. 3 Sakamaki Reiji Stellaworth Tokuten Drama CD

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Katsuyuki Konishi

Translator’s note: Ah yes. The date place every teenage girl dreams of ーー A book store. I mean, if you want to date either Reiji or Ruki, you basically need to be somewhat interested in literature or you’ll be bored a lot. That being said, there are some genuinely cute moments in this CD. It’s crazy how Reiji went from ‘you’re a ball of faults’ in HDB to actually being a loving and caring boyfriend. :p 

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

*Flip*

Reiji approaches you.

“Ah, so this is where you’ve been. It’s rather spacious here, so it took me a while to find you.”

You nod in agreement. 

“Not many bookstores are quite as big, or have such an extensive collection as this one does. It’s a sight to behold, don’t you think? ...Anyway, did that book in your hands catch your attention?”

You explain.

“...’Because the cover looked pretty’, very much sounds like a reason you would give.”

You ask him about the book. 

“It’s a poetry collection written in Latin. I am sure it has many beautiful poems inside.”

You frown and admit to not being able to read any of them.

“Hm? You can’t read Latin? ...I suppose it cannot be helped then. Let us look for a different book. This is an excellent opportunity to find a book which even you would have no trouble reading.”

You thank him.

*Rustle rustle* 

“...You almost resemble a small animal while curiously looking around like that. Fufu~”

You ask Reiji what his favorite kind of book is

“Oh dear? You want to know my literary preferences? I do not just read one specific genre of books though…”

You tell him your reasoning. 

“You want to give me a book as a present? If you wish to offer me a piece of literature to apologize for your usual blunders, perhaps you could try and simply cause me less trouble instead? However, I shall gladly accept the sentiment. ...In which case, I have a suggestion. How about we choose one fixed genre, for example mystery novels. Each of us will purchase one book of our personal preference and swap after we’ve finished reading it, giving us a chance to experience the book the other person chose as well.”

You seem excited about the idea.

“Fufu, a fine response. In which case, we better head towards the mystery section. I have visited this store once in the past, so allow me to escort you.”

The two of you start walking. 

“Speaking of which, it appears there is an area in the back where customers can sit down and read the books. I heard many students use the space for studying as well. It is quiet and seems rather cozy, so how about I instruct you there some time in the future?”

You agree.

“No need to thank me. By doing so, I get to visit this store with you again, as well as take a look at the new arrivals.”

You chuckle.

“If we attempt to study at home, someone will surely come and bother us. Therefore, this place is ideal to get some schoolwork done in peace. ーー It will be our little secret, okay?”

You nod.

“Exactly. It’s a promise. ...Well then, we should reach the section with the mystery novels soon.”

*TIMESKIP*

“It should be around here. Various books within the mystery genre have been gathered here.”

You look around.

“There are books written in other languages as well. However, since you will have to read them too this time, I suppose an easier book would be preferred. Well then…”

Reiji walks over to one of the shelves.

“Please try and select one from this shelf.”

You seem hesitant.

“You are unsure how to choose? While there is nothing wrong with basing your selection on the cover or short summary (1), you could take a quick look inside as well. Why don’t you try flipping through and reading a few passages?” 

You nod and start looking at the books.

*Flip flip*

“You are rather serious about the selection process. Well then, I suppose I should make my decision as well. Something which would strike her fancy.”

*TIMESKIP*

*Thud*

“I have selected my book. Have you made your pick as well?”

You nod and show him the book. 

“This book? Not a bad choice coming from you.”

You smile.

“Yes. Let us enjoy reading these together with a cup of tea once we’re back home.”

You agree.

“Well then, let us go pay for these and head home at once.”

You frown.

“Oh dear? What is the matter? It seems like there is something you want to tell me, but I can’t read your mind.”

You admit to not wanting to leave yet. 

“Oh? You are being rather honest about your craving for attention today. Very well. Let us walk around the store just a little longer. When you beg for it in such a way, I also find it difficult to head home instead.”

You thank him.

“No need to thank me. Well then, is there a specific section you would like to check out? This store does not only carry books, but offers various other goods and even food items as well.”

You offer to look at the food section.

“Ah, you make a fair point. If we want to enjoy a cup of tea later, we need some snacks to serve alongside it. This store carries a fine assortment of snacks, so it is the perfect place to look. I heard that the cookies in particular are sublime.”

You seem excited as the two of you walk towards the food section.

“Turn right at the next corner.”

You speed up.

“Don’t run too far ahead! ...Haah, look at her get all excited.”

You point towards the snacks.

“While I am glad you have found the area we were looking for, if you put us to shame with your overly excited behavior, you will be punished.”

You apologize.

“If you will simply say sorry afterwards, I would rather you behave in a proper way from the very start. I am always telling you to act like a proper lady, am I not?”

You promise to do that.

“A fine response. ...You seem to have calmed down a little.”

You nod.

“Very well. Let us take a look then.”

You look around at the different snacks. 

“I believe you can simply select your favorites, without worrying about it too much. Although...I suppose something light in flavor which would not clash with the aroma of the tea would be optimal in this case.”

You agree. 

*Rustle rustle*

“...Have you made your decision? Mmh. A sweet type of biscuit, I see? I’m sure that would pair well with the refreshing taste of the tea. Well then, let’s add those to our purchases and proceed to the check-out.”

*TIMESKIP*

The two of you are on the way back home. 

“You seem rather pleased. Are you that excited to get to reading once we arrive home?”

You nod.

“I see. (mumbles) I should have invited you along with me much earlier if I had known how happy it would make you.”

You ask Reiji if he said anything. 

“Ah, no, nothing. Right, if you find yourself struggling with any of the terms inside the book, I will gladly provide assistance. However, you know what will happen if you have the audacity to fall asleep in the middle of reading, no?”

You tell him that you know very well. 

“Fufu, very well. Well then, let us get going.”

ーー THE END ーー

Translation notes

(1) 帯 or ‘obi’ refers to the paper wrapping around books. In Japan, all books have one of these wrappers which has some keywords/key phrases written on them to either summarize or promote the book. It’s similar to the short summary usually written on the back or the inside of the cover of books in the West.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Rectify: Part 1

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

As requested by anonymous: It would be awesome if you could make a tfatws Bucky fic or series where the reader is on the list for his making amends because the winter soldier did something to her or someone she loves, and once he gets close to her in some way he ends up falling for her and it’s really angsty but a happy ending !!

A/N: FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER SPOILERS AHEAD!!! also, this will be a mini series that I will HOPEFULLY be able to finish.

The list. Bucky's therapist made him make a list of amends to help him cope and process the horrors of his past. He was slowly making his way through the list.

With the case of Yori, Bucky has been a coward. He's been working his way to befriending the old man, trying to form some sort of relationship with him to eventually break the news that he's the reason why Yori no longer has a son. But he just can't seem to do it. So Yori's name remains uncrossed and he continues on with his list. The person under Yori is you: Y/N L/N.

You were ten years old when you were coming back from a sleepover to find your parents dead in your home. The police told you that you it was a robbery gone wrong and you were lucky you weren't home. But still, that left you without any parents, instead growing up with your aunt and uncle. You always felt like something was wrong pertaining to your parents' death, but you didn't know what. So you went through life just feeling without closure.

You visited your parents as much as you could. Your career in child counseling provided that you were very busy. However, the weekends were the time of seeing them and reminiscing.

That's how Bucky found you.

Around 3pm every Saturday and 12pm Sunday, you would visit your parents' graves. The time you spent there varied, but, on average, you'd stay for about an hour and a half. This was just from what Bucky gathered from watching you for a month.

It was how he found the courage to come up to you and speak with you.

He slowly approaches you, hears your music playing softly from your phone grow louder as he draws near.

Hearing the crunching of the grass, you look up to see him staring down at you, "Um...hi?"

"I'm sorry for your loss," he gestures to your parents' graves.

You give him a polite smile, "Thanks. It's been years since I lost them."

"Doesn't mean their absence still doesn't hurt," he interjects.

You nod in understanding and ask, "Did you lose someone?"

"My parents as well." he stands there for a few seconds in silence then speaks up again, "I'm James," he holds out a gloved hand and you shake it, "Y/N."

After pulling his hand back and shoving it into his pocket, an awkward silence washes over the two of you, to which to break, "So...James, do you...come here often?" then you burst into a chuckle, "I'm sorry. That sounds like a wildly inappropriate pick up line."

Bucky smiles and shakes his head, "No, no. It's fine. But to answer your question, I've, uh, recently started coming here."

"Are you parents buried here?"

"No, no. Um, I....I like to take walks in cemeteries." What the fuck, Bucky??? "I mean, 'cause, you know, it's quiet and peaceful. Barely any people here to really bother you. Just...I can clear my head." Yeah. That works. That should make sense, right?

"Oh. I suppose that's a good point. I come here pretty much every weekend just to visit my parents and I rarely see anyone. So I suppose this is a good place for you to clear your mind and enjoy the silence without the hustle and bustle."

"Yeah. Yeah, exactly. So, what do you do when you come here? Just sit in silence?"

You shrug, "Depends how I'm feeling. I'll tell them about my week, anything interesting that's going on. Sometimes I'll have a little picnic, read, journal, listen to some music."

"That sounds....really nice."

You softly smile up at him, "It is. You should try it some time."

Suddenly, your alarm started going off on your phone. You quickly picked up your device, swiping off the alarm and looked back up to Bucky, "Sorry. I have to go." you stood up, collecting your things, "It was nice to meet you, James. I'll see you around!"

You shake his hand again and head to your car. Bucky watches as you drive away and he sighs. He turns to your parents' grave and whispers, "I'm sorry."

____________

The next week, Bucky sat under a tree close to your parent's grave plot so that he could see you clearly and you him.

Right on time, you drove up, hopping out of your car with a picnic basket in hand and some other items.

Bucky sat looking down at the book in his lap, but glancing your way every so often, waiting until-

"Hey," you give a light kick to his boot and he looks up, shooting you a small grin, "Oh hi. Nice to see you again."

"Do you wanna join me?"

Bucky shakes his head, "No, it's fine. I don't want to interrupt your time-"

"It's okay, James. I don't mind. It'd be nice to have some living company for a change," you give a little giggle and he sighs.

"Well if you insist," he snaps his book shut and gets to his feet, following you to your parents' plot. You already have the picnic set up and you sit down, a look of hesitation on your face.

"Um, I kinda packed some extra food, just in case I ran into you today."

Bucky's brows shoot up in surprise, "Wow. Um, thank you. That's-That's really nice."

You hold out a tupperware of pasta salad and hand him a bottle of water. You play music on your phone while you two eat and make idle chatter.

You tell Bucky of your childhood, how your parents were abruptly taken from you, and how you grew up with your aunt and uncle. It provided some relief to him that your growing up parentless wasn't completely bad, that your aunt and uncle provided a sufficient amount of love and care to you on top of their own children.

Bucky was amazed that despite being orphaned at a young age, you were still filled with so much love, heart, and light, and that you wanted to provide as much care and compassion to troubled children. It was admirable.

A few hours past and both you and Bucky didn't realize how much the day has gone.

"Wow, I don't think I've spent this much time here in a day."

"Sorry," Bucky murmurs with a wince as he helps you to your feet.

You shook your head, "Don't be. Today was fun, James."

"Bucky."

"Hm?"

"Call me Bucky. It's a nickname."

"Bucky," you tested the name on your tongue, "It's cute."

For some reason, Bucky felt himself blushing at the compliment. So he looks down, afraid you might see his blushing cheeks and replies, "Thanks."

"Do you wanna have lunch sometime, Bucky?"

His head shoots back up and you look at him surprised, "Huh?"

You shrug, "I don't know. There's just something about you. I want to get to know you more. If that's okay."

"Um," he nervously runs his gloved hands down the side of his jeans, "Yeah. Sure."

"Great!" you take out your phone and hand it to him, "Put your number in." After he does so, you take back your phone, "So I'll call you and we can hash out the details?"

"I'll be waiting," he responds with a chuckle and a smile. He escorts you back to your car and waves as you drive away. Once you're gone, his smile drops and he murmurs, "Shit. I think I like her."

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

love letter, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook gets love letters shoved in his mailbox and under his apartment door all the damn time. You, too, get love letters shoved in your mailbox and under your door. All the time. It could be a sweet gesture, but this is the twenty-first century. Love letters aren't all they're cracked up to be. 

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; short graphic descriptions of sex acts; smut (fem reader, a very intense make-out session including some wild tongue and too much saliva, nipple play, a bit of m-receiving oral, cowgirl, handjob); non-idol!BTS – technically university, blond, softsub!Jungkook x working, softdom!reader; slightly desperate and needy JK

yes, yes, it’s MTV Unplugged ‘Telepathy’JK

--

"I'm so tired of people thinking they have a chance with me."

Was the exasperated declaration as you backed up into your apartment, only to turn around and witness Jeon Jungkook dumping a waterfall of colorful envelopes from his giant black backpack onto your hardwood floor. 

"At least remove your shoes before you start flaunting how hot you are," you replied dryly.

Jungkook rolled his eyes as he kicked off his large white sneakers. "Look at this shit! It's relentless! It's annoying! I just want to live my life!"

You vaguely recalled Jungkook being excited about his first love letter upon reaching university, and then the second, the third... and now you were staring at pile number five hundred on your doormat. "I don't know, put a sign on your door? 'Please stop, the answer is no?'"

Jungkook winced. "I can't do that. How many hearts am I going to break?"

"Uh, I dunno, you already broke half the campus by existing in general."

He bonked you on the head lightly with his denim jacket sleeve. "I have not. I've only slept with a couple people and that was supposed to be no strings attached."

You shrugged. "People can't understand that. Especially women."

He puffed his cheeks and stepped over the pile. You noticed the small stickers and nice handwriting on the colorful pastel paper. You almost felt bad, seeing all the effort put into them.

"At least they're cute. I only get torn notebook pages with scribbles."

"Stop lying. You get girls' letters too," Jungkook grumbled. "Can I borrow your computer? One of my professors assigned an online quiz and the internet at my place is down, again."

"You gotta move," you commented, kneeling down to collect the mess Jungkook made. You noticed Jungkook flit his eyes about before throwing up his hands and bending down to help you. 

"I'm trying to get out of the lease, but I have a couple more months left," he complained childishly.

"What about your other friends? Can't you go bother them?"

Jungkook frowned, sticking out his lower lip. The tiny mole underneath winked at you. "You hate me now or something?"

You laughed, standing up with a stacked pile of confessions to Jeon Jungkook. "No, I'm just curious as to why you always come here."

He shoved the rest in your arms, his pile slightly messier than yours. "You live the closest and you're usually home. Plus, you have two computers."

"A laptop and a desktop," you corrected. "Don't you have a laptop?"

"It's easier to borrow yours."

"Lazy."

Jungkook ignored your remark and ticked his silvery-blond head further into the apartment. "Can I borrow it or not?"

You laughed. "Of course. Laptop's on the bed."

He turned and followed the hallway to your bedroom. "Same password?" he yelled, not looking back.

"Obviously."

"Why is it my birth date?" he shouted.

"Because, one, no one will guess it, and, two, you're a dumbass and always forget it."

"I do not!"

"How many times did you ask when the password was Klingon?"

"I don't know your nerdy shit!"

"Do your fucking assignment," you belted down the hall. 

Jungkook stuck his head out of your bedroom door and scrunched his nose to make a hideous face at you, holding your gunmetal-colored laptop. You rolled your eyes as he disappeared again. This crackhead. You let out a sigh, walking past the acrylic painting of a blue sky with pink-purple clouds hanging in your living room, flicking through at all the letters addressed to Jungkook.

Surprisingly, you knew what he felt like. With you, it started with inviting one guy over to your place, sucking his dick, and then suddenly a letter appeared. Well, letter was putting it nicely. Dirty napkin with words scrawled with smeared ballpoint pen shoved under your door, explicitly asking for more. Then another, wanting it. Then another, begging for it. You ignored them. At some point, you invited a girl over, ate her out, and then the colorful envelopes started appearing, with cute stickers and neat handwriting.

Mmmhmm.

Why did Jungkook bring them here anyway? To brag? For you to peruse? You spread them out them on your coffee table and tore one open. Read it. Simple confession of love, no name. You were kind of jealous. Jungkook always got nicer ones than you did. Something about being a sexually uninhibited woman seemed to translate to others that you were down to fuck anyone, anytime, anything. You tossed the letter aside, ripped open a folded card closed with lilac tape. Another, 'I love you, please go out with me', no name. Toss. And you opened another one, reading out loud. 

"I want to cram all one hundred and seventy-nine centimeters of you into me?”

Uh.

Huh.

Still no name.

Cute peach stationery though. 

Was it a euphemism? Symbolic? Thinly veiled code? Hm. In any case, this was more along the lines of shamelessness you encountered yourself. 

By all conventions, Jeon Jungkook was attractive as fuck. Pretty pink lips, big brown eyes, manly sharp jawline. He kept his hair on the longer side, around ear length, now silvery-blond compared to the usual black. You heard he dyed it a couple times, but now it had since faded to the original blond.

Oh, yeah, also he had nice hands and a body to die for. 

You could see why Jungkook got all these love letters. You? Well, similar reasons, except less muscles. Also, yours weren't really love letters. More like vulgar remarks on the backs of grubby receipts. 

Probably just as heartfelt.

The only reason you knew of Jungkook was because you were friends with one of his close friends. Alright, maybe you sucked his friend's dick. More than once. But anyway, not the point. The point was that the topic of love letters came up one night when everyone was hanging out and you voiced your predicament. It was the summer before Jungkook entered university. He had burst out laughing, thinking it was a hilarious situation.

"Haha, that would never happen to me!"

Jokes on you, Jungkook, karma's a bitch. 

You thought about moving, but the location was close to your work and the internet service was great here. At least you always recycled the paper. What were you supposed to do? Keep an album of Starbucks napkins of people asking if your tongue was good or not?

You opened another envelope addressed to 'sweet, adorable Jungkookie'.

Their words, not yours. 

"Shove your dick down my throat and make me gag? Smiley face?"

Well, that's a contrast. 

Jungkook didn't start contacting you on his own until the letters started coming and then they didn’t stop coming, flooding his mailbox and underneath his door, overwhelming and confusing him. He didn't think he would get much attention, although perhaps it might be your fault, since you seemed to have set the precedence for this type of thing at this particular university. There was at least one person in every year that got this treatment, and it all started with one dirty napkin with smeared ink. Rumor caught on and then bam! It became a thing. 

So, yeah. 

Maybe kind of your fault.

You shouldn't have told so many people about that napkin. 

You fished out a pizza receipt from the pile, inspecting it. You couldn't find anything out of the ordinary. Then you noticed it had Jungkook's phone number and an order of three pizzas. Not a confession, just trash from Jungkook's backpack. Did he really eat three pizzas? Hopefully not by himself and in one sitting. You noticed the timestamp. Mmm, three in the morning. Okay. Maybe he did eat three pizzas by himself in one sitting. 

You filed through the rest, removing trash from the recyclable paper. Paused when you found a scrap of paper that said, "Put your dick in my ass." You recognized this curvy, narrow handwriting, slightly heavy-handed. Same person wrote you the same note this week. 

This was why you didn't take the messages too seriously.

You saw a particularly thick purple envelope and picked it up, tearing it open. It was several pages, with tiny, crammed handwriting on paper with cute bunnies on it. Several pages detailing straight up porn with Jungkook as the leading role. 

You almost burst out laughing. 

Who the fuck would write this?

And send it to him?

Not you, that's for fucking sure. 

Still, it wasn't the worst thing you've ever read. Had some spelling mistakes and poor grammar. Instant turn-off. Needed a good proofread. You settled onto your brown leather couch, highly entertained as you read it. Then you actually burst out laughing, because said person wanted Jungkook to lift them and fuck them at the same time and that kinda shit just wasn't possible. You would know, because you’ve tried. It sounded good, but in practice, the dick ended up falling out pretty quickly if the pussy was any sort of wet.

If you weren’t wet, then, eh, not sure why you're fucking. 

"What is so fucking funny?" Jungkook grumbled, poking his head around the corner, still holding your laptop. 

You held up the sheets of bunny-printed paper, still laughing. "Someone sent you their written erotica and you're the star!"

Jungkook grimaced. "Oh yeah, that person. They write something new every week. It's weird." He frowned. "I try to take it out so you don't have to read that shit. I must have missed it."

"It's hilarious," you chuckled. "You should publish them into a book."

"You know I can't do that," Jungkook sighed, putting your laptop on the coffee table and snatching the pages from you. "I throw them away like everything else."

"Did you finish your assignment?" you chortled, leaning over to look at the laptop screen. Submission successful. "80%?! When you could easily cheat?"

"I read a question wrong," Jungkook whined, balling up the paper and throwing it down. "Ack."

You looked up at him and he was looking upset at the pile on the table. 

"What's wrong?"

"What if one of them is real?" 

"Huh?"

"I mean... I just throw them away now. But what if one of them is real?" Jungkook wondered out loud. 

You shrugged. "Does it matter? They'll tell you in person if it's that important."

Jungkook tilted his head at you doubtfully. "Will they?"

You sat back into your couch, with your legs wide open. You were wearing sleek black leggings and a cropped pink sweatshirt. Not the most ladylike pose, but you didn't really care. You gestured to the stack of letters on your wooden coffee table. 

"They should. If they actually like you and it's not a joke, then they should tell you in person and accept that they might be rejected."

Jungkook frowned and slumped down next to you. His light-wash denim jacket made a loud floof as his ass hit the brown leather cushions. The wash of his jeans matched his jacket. He wore a white graphic t-shirt under. It looked vintage, but it probably wasn’t. 

"What if they're nervous?" he questioned, twisting his pink lips around.

"So what? Everyone's nervous. We all live in a perpetual state of terror."

Jungkook rolled his eyes. 

You leaned forward and plucked a sky-blue memo note from the table, reading it out loud. "I love you. Marry me." You held it out to him. "See? You get nice ones. I get, ‘choke me like you hate me’ and 'shove your tongue into my asshole, please'. Rarely do I get is that please at the end," you finished with a dry laugh. You looked up to see Jungkook staring back at you. Your laugh died a little seeing his serious expression. 

"Yes."

You blinked at him. "What?"

Jungkook ticked his chin to the note, then shifted his eyes to you.

You pointed to the memo sheet and raised an eyebrow. "I didn't write this."

"I did."

He was so serious that you couldn't laugh. You just blinked at him rapidly and turned your head to look at the sky-blue memo sheet, finally recognizing the clean, block-like handwriting and spotting the bottom right corner. English letters. A J and a K fused together, the way Jungkook usually signed his paintings.

You dropped the note like it was on fire.

Jerked your head up, not to him, but to the painting across from you in the living room, the one with the blue sky and pink-purple clouds, with a tiny JK signature in black at the bottom right corner. The painting you asked Jungkook to make you a while back. 

"You paint, right? I want something calm for my living room. I bought a canvas, so about this size. It's that cool?"

Jungkook had squinted his eyes, nodding. "Yeah, I could draw a pretty big dick on it."

"This is for my living room, dumbass. And I said I wanted something calm."

"A flaccid dick then."

You turned your head back to Jungkook of now, who was wringing his hands on his thighs, wiping off his palms. He noticed you watching him and puffed one cheek before letting out a big sigh. 

"I was... gonna leave it on your laptop," Jungkook mumbled, flapping a hand to the sky-blue note. "But I couldn't find it in my backpack, and then I realized one of the pockets was open, the one where I keep receipts... anyway I had put the note there, so I came out to see if it was in the pile... yup, there it is."

He sucked in his cheek and fell back against the leather sofa.

"Was a joke."

Jungkook's voice sounded hollow. Empty. 

"... Ah." You tucked the tip of your tongue in your cheek.

"Not the greatest joke," he added flatly.

“No, it’s not,” you agreed. "Jokes that are insincere are bad jokes."

The black words glared back up at you, contrasting the pale azure paper. You picked up the memo sheet again. Turned to face him, holding it up next to Jungkook's head of silvery-blond hair. He pursed his lips and looked away from you, jaw clenched in nervousness. 

"Just say it."

He puffed one cheek again. "It was a joke."

"Then why are you saying it in past tense?"

His brown orbs shifted from side to side before Jungkook tried to bolt out of his seat, only for you to slam a hand down on his shoulder and throw a leg over him, straddling his lap before pinning the note to his chest. He yelped sharply and looked up at you with huge, shaking irises. 

In all your time knowing him, you never tried to sleep with Jungkook.

Never. 

You jabbed the note into his white shirt and he gave you a terrified squeak in response. 

You scrutinized his face, jaw slack, eyes wide, blond curls framing his chiseled cheekbones. One of your eyebrows raised, your voice calm and unfazed.

"Say it."

"You say it," Jungkook finally shot back, furrowing his brows, biting on his lip and mustering up the most indignant look he could produce at this very second. You didn’t react. He seemed to have forgotten you did, in fact, say it, although perhaps that wasn’t exactly what he meant.

You never tried to fuck Jungkook because he didn’t treat you as anything more than his primary source of internet when his own was down. Ah, and also his outlet for complaining about his love letter problem. And then there was that other little wrinkle, the unwritten societal rule one of sucking a guy's dick you're still friends with - don't suck his friends' dicks. Surefire way to fuck up a friendship, especially if the dude’s ego was fragile.

Jungkook’s friend was dating someone else now though. His ego couldn’t be that fragile.

You leaned forward and Jungkook's annoyed gaze faltered. He gulped and tried to shrink into your brown leather couch, as if he could somehow disappear under you.

"I love you," you stated clearly and firmly. You glanced at the slightly crumpled piece of blue paper before your eyes flickered back to his face. "Marry me."

Hah, the thing about rules with you was...

Fuck 'em.

Not actually. 

Eh, not the point.

"Really?" Jungkook squeaked, voice cracking slightly.

Ah, right, the other reason you never tried to sex up Jungkook because he was a little bit of an idiot around you. But maybe this sky-blue note detailed the reason for it. 

"Say it," you repeated crossly, poking him in the pecs. "Stop avoiding it."

You observed Jungkook swallow hard again, Adam’s apple bobbing. You furrowed your brows, tipping your head down so that your forehead was hovering over his, eyebrow cocked, gazing into trembling brown orbs. Why was he taking so long? He wrote the damn words. Were they really just a joke? Hmph, why were you even trying then?

That’s how everyone was.

Not putting any stock or thought into their fucking words.

You lifted your finger but Jungkook’s right hand, the one with tiny tattoos, suddenly darted in your view, grabbing your hand back and jamming your finger onto his chest again. His heartbeat raced under your fingertip, thud-thud-thud, rapid bass accenting the moment. Electrifying it.

“Don’t.”

Whisper so faint you frowned and closed even more distance between you two, picking up the scent of vanilla fabric softener and lush cotton. A little different than you, who used a blackberry and spiced vanilla perfume.

“I like this,” Jungkook breathed under you, chewing his lip anxiously. You could feel his warm breath tickling your lips and chin with how close you were. You could count his individual eyebrow hairs, even though the eyebrow product he used.

“I… really like this.”

He let go of your hand.

Now you raised both eyebrows.

You slowly uncurled your middle finger, landing it on his chest next to the index. You felt him shiver a little, lips parting. Straightened your ring finger, planting it down. His lashes lowered a little, brown orbs on your face, watching your reaction to him. You could count the moles on his face. The one on his nose. The one on his cheek. The one under his lower lip. The one on his neck. Your pinky slid onto his chest. A wispy moan left his lips, eyelids fluttering, blond strands floating around his head with the little rise and fall of his heavy, tense exhale.

Why is it your birth date?

Take a wild guess, dumbass.

Your fingers abruptly dug into his white t-shirt, crumpling the note and scrunching the graphic up in your fist. He inhaled sharply, head tipping back and lips nearing yours, a whine escaping his throat. You quirked an eyebrow, drawing back slightly, taking in the rich depth of his tan skin, the sensual line of his neck, up to his angular chin and his dangling silver earrings. All of it. His hands immediately came up to grab your wrist and forearm, ensuring you and himself that you wouldn’t let go, the tendons in your flexed wrist right against his large palm.

“Say it, Jungkook,” you demanded. “Say those words with your pretty pink tongue hanging out your mouth for me.”

You watched him obey immediately, tongue sliding out and touching his lower lip, brown eyes framed by his long lashes and hazy with lust.

“I love you,” Jungkook breathed, a little gargled with his tongue out. “Fucking marry me, please.”

Ah, you couldn't help it. 

You smirked.

"What about all your admirers?" you murmured, twisting your fingers in his shirt, digging your nails into his chest. "You'll break all those poor hearts you’re worried about."

Those dark brown eyes told you they didn't give a single fuck. 

"What about you?" he countered, closing his mouth a little to speak more clearly.

"Me?"

The definition of trouble?

Well, if you looked that up in a dictionary, there would definitely be a picture of you. 

Jungkook’s lips parted once more, keen to submit to your wickedness, pink tongue slipping out again, shiny and glistening with saliva. Breathing shallowly, rubbing your wrist with his thumb, encouraging you to keep going. 

Your lips curved into a treacherous smile.

"I'll break all the hearts to get to yours, Jungkook."

And then you licked his tongue. 

A low moan bubbled from Jungkook's chest, his eyes rolling back and his hips bucking up, desperate for friction as the tip of your wet muscle glided over his warm softness, your spit dripping down his throat, listening to his moans turn into messy garbles of your name, begging you, pleading you, more, more, kiss me, please, and you hooked your tongue around his, gently nudging his jaw with your other hand. Knuckle to chin, tilting your head as your lips closed onto Jungkook's. 

It was not a neat kiss.

There was spit running down his chin, dripping onto his neck and your skin, your lips roughly working his, tongues intertwined and making even more of a mess, you sucking forcefully to earn pained, delicious whines. Jungkook was far too turned on to attempt to glamorize it, cries a jumbled mess under your greedy mouth, but none of that mattered. The moment was sensual and dark, bodies speaking to each other through dopamine and adrenaline. Your hand released his shirt, breaking his grip, switching to burrowing your fingers into his soft blond hair and running your nails over his scalp, leaving lines of prickling pain to enhance your kiss. 

"F-Fuck, oh fuck, yes..."

Your teeth caught his tongue, pulling back and forcing his head to follow. Jungkook made a pained noise, trapped in your embrace, whining as you took him to the brink. You released him swiftly and he snapped backward, blinking hard, trying to reorient himself, but it was impossible, your lips crashing down again, thrusting your tongue into his mouth aggressively, one eye open to witness his fucked-out state, pupils unfocused, long lashes quivering, moaning into your mouth and you inhaling it all, literally taking his breath away. 

It started out with a kiss. 

How did it end up like this?

It was only a kiss. 

It was only a kiss. 

You dropped your lower half onto his crotch and Jungkook gasped, breaking the kiss, strings of spit breaking between you two. You smirked wickedly as you felt his hardness trying to escape its clothing jail, his large hands already on your thighs and hips, sinking his fingers into the soft fabric of your leggings, rocking you into him, desperately trying to get some stimulation.

"Please," he croaked, panting for breath, pulling himself up to sitting position, so easy and smooth, fuck, so sexy, and now Jungkook was in your face, pleas on the tip of his tongue pouring out, tempting you, wanting it. 

"Please, wanna be yours so fucking bad, seeing all those fucking letters and notes you get, and it pisses me off, it's me, I want it to be me, I want to be yours and I'm telling you to your face." 

Whisper achingly hot, deep voice soaked with longing, staring into your eyes with those shaking brown orbs, spinning with emotion like an unstable top, barely enough torque holding it in place and all it took was another spin to encourage it or a gust of rejection to topple it over. 

"And you don't even care about mine, you think they're fucking funny, fuck, I can't stand it, let it be me, please..."

His hands running up your sides, grazing against your breasts, and now his hands were in your hair and yours were in his, bringing your face close, the crumpled sky-blue note right between your joined crotches, forgotten, witnessing the agonizing lust wound tightly in this embrace. 

"Let it be me," Jungkook begged.

You licked your lips slowly, scarcely swiping against his. He shuddered, leaning into it, taking whatever crumbs you gave. His long fingers tensed in your hair, yours buried in the dark roots of his. 

"You'll have to skip the marriage bit for now," you teased lightly. "I don't think my parents will appreciate you slapping down papers before you finish school."

Jungkook snickered, tucking his tongue in his cheek roguishly. "Can't they understand I have to snatch this ass as soon as possible to make people back off?"

Your hands slipped down to his jaw, fitting it in your palms, his silvery-blond stands wrapped around your fingertips. "They'll back off my door once they hear you screaming my name." 

You leaned in, but Jungkook stopped you, brown orbs glittering with mischief to get in one more quip. 

"I doubt it," he purred. 

Yeah. 

Jungkook was right. 

Ah, well. 

You seized his face and kissed him again, fuck, such malleable lips just pleading to be bitten by you, gazing up his nose and to his beautiful eyes, his soft skin in your hands, clenching his jaw under your power, letting you have it, letting you control it and him. You felt him scramble and throw his denim jacket off, dumping it onto your couch to cup your cheeks with his hands, sighing in satisfaction as you inhaled him. Your tongue lazily traced the outskirts of his lips, hearing the rattle of his beaded bracelets by your ears, amused, knowing they were his good luck charms. 

"They bring good luck," he had answered when you saw them for the first time.

You remembered tilting your head at the wooden beads on his slim wrists. "You trying to get your dick sucked or something?"

He had broken out in a loud guffaw. Nudged you with his elbow, cheeky smile on his lips. 

"Never gonna say no to getting my dick sucked."

"Mhm, cool, where's my painting of the flaccid dick?"

From then on, you noticed he wore the same wooden, beaded bracelets every time he came to your apartment.

Hmm. 

Now, your hands falling from his face, yanking his shirt from his pants, annoyed it was getting caught, and then Jungkook fitted his hands around your ass and lifted you easily, breaking the kiss, a moment for you to bear witness to his arms flexing – holy fuck, that’s sexy – right one covered in tattoos. Images and script, with one catching your eye, a string of words running up the inside of his upper arm. One you recognized because you had those words written on your bedroom wall, on a canvas hanging above your bed. A canvas you made, background a chaotic mess of varying dark red brushstrokes, the black script in the center, written by your hand. 

The exact black script with your flourishes and ticks, now tattooed on the inside of his right arm. 

Your eyes drifted to Jungkook's face and his naughty smirk, pleased to be found out. Your lips formed the sentence slowly, in awe of his audacity.

"The devil knows my name."

the devil knows my name. 

Hung above your bed, where all manner of marvelous sinful acts were performed. 

Jungkook grinned deviously. "I saw it. I wanted it on me."

Wanted it on him. 

Oh, fuck. 

Did he know? Could he guess?

"Who's the devil?" you whispered, smile widening, matching his. 

Jungkook reached down, yanking his t-shirt out of his jeans and pulling it up and over his head, revealing the body he sculpted himself, tan skin taut over hard muscle, toned and...

"You're the devil, of course," he snickered. 

Yours. 

"Ding dong daeng," you sing-songed.

How many people have been on your bed, head pulled back by your hand, blinking hard, trying to read the words on your wall through waves of forced ecstasy? Gasping them out, ending with a question, inquiring for an answer.

The devil knows my name?

And you, leaning forward, haunting whisper in their ears, yes, she does, before pushing their face down into the sheets.

"All those love letters not good enough for you, Jungkook?" you breathed, running your hands over his bare chest, spreading your fingers, letting your exhale out through your teeth. His eyes on you, torso trembling, hairs raising, feeling your nails dance up, up, raking over his collarbones and neck, leaving little pink lines of intensity.

"They're not you," he whispered. His hands brushing over yours, outlining your fingers, eyes darkening as you pushed him back into your sofa, lowering your head. "You, the one they talk about..." Your lips on his hot skin, kissing softly, tongue so slight that it made him whimper. "You, the one they look for..." His voice, deep and rumbling, vibrating your lips, pitching as you bit and sucked, leaving small hickeys. "You, the one whose bed I sit on, wondering who else has been there, wondering why it's not me, when I make myself available to you, so easy to prey on, but you let me be..." Your lips closing around his dark brown nipple, scraping your teeth against it, making him squirm and look down at you, you and your self-satisfied, ravenous smirk. 

"I let you read them," Jungkook whimpered, blond strands curled around his cheeks, chest shuddering at your nail flicking his other nipple while your mouth worked the other. "Let you see everything they want to do to me and you still didn't know."

You chuckled darkly. "What's there to know?" you mused, sticking your tongue out and pressing it against the now hard pink-tinged nub, receiving small whines of pleasure as your reward. "It's obvious what you wanted. I was right in front of you. All you had to do was say something."

Jungkook frowned as you sat up, tongue in cheek, half-grinning.

"Look at you."

You crossed your arms and pulled your pink cropped sweatshirt up and over your head, dropping it to the floor. Casually running a hand through the top of your hair to pull it away from your face, gazing down at shirtless Jungkook covered in your red bites, cocking your head with a smirk. He raised an eyebrow, eyes roaming over your figure and the curve of your breasts molded to smooth black satin. 

"You look like you eat hearts for breakfast," he murmured, admiration in his tone.

The side of your lips quirked further upwards.

"And yet you wanna love me."

Jungkook grinned. "I don't want to. I already do."

And then he was the one to pull you to him, kissing you hungrily, you immediately turning it into your favor, your pace, his tongue commanded by yours as he unhooked your bra, moaning into your mouth, rubbing your exposed nipples with his palms, unable to do much as you pushed him into the couch again, guiding his tongue down with your teeth and running the tip of yours over his wet muscle once more, trickling saliva into his throat and onto his chin and neck, messy and lewd. 

"The devil knows your name," you sighed into his mouth, feeling him knead your breasts, thumbs brushing over your hard nipples, tendrils of pleasure making your skin tingle. "And now the devil takes what she wants."

You saw the sides of his lips curve upwards as you backed up to strip the rest of your clothes, amused at Jungkook eagerly following suit and unbuttoning his jeans.

"Can't wait to flaunt how hot you are?" you laughed, reaching down to the shelf under the side table where a ceramic R2-D2 cookie jar sat.

"Do you think I'm hot?" Jungkook haughtily accused before gawking at your waist to ass ratio, his hands slowing, pants stopped to his knees in his distraction.

You gently took off the head of R2-D2 and plucked a condom from it. Some guy told you once that you couldn't like Star Trek and Star Wars at the same time and you told him to shut the fuck up as you slapped his nuts. He begged you to do it again. You fondly patted R2-D2's head after you fitted it back.

You straightened to see Jungkook on your couch with his hard dick on display.

You looked him dead in the eye. "You think I'd let you borrow my laptop if I thought you were ugly?"

Jungkook broke out of his trance and shrugged, finally yanking his calves – holy shit, his calves and thighs were muscular as fuck – out of his jeans, underwear and socks gone with them.

"Maybe you pitied my grades."

"I'd just pay for you to go to the library and fuck off, dumbass," you muttered, pushing his hands aside and ripping the condom open, drinking in the delicious sight of his throbbing red cock dripping pre-cum, his balls just waiting for – fuck it, you got down on your knees and wrapped your tongue around his length, Jungkook sputtering and gasping at your suddenness. Fuck, he smelled and tasted fucking good, clean and velvety to your lips enclosing around the head and sliding down, using one hand to scoop up his balls. Made eye contact with him again.

Jungkook breathed your name hesitantly.

Your tongue slid out of your lips and you jammed his cock all the way down your throat, slathering his balls wetly with your whisking tongue, circling around one and then the other, long expansive strokes that went past the girth of his cock, your pink tongue visible to him. Jungkook's pupils blew wide with shock, moans catching in his throat, whole body shivering, trying desperately not to look away even through you could tell he wanted to throw himself into your sofa and fucking lose it.

"Oooooooh, fuck, that's amazing.... Holy shit, your tongue is everything...."

You chuckled and pulled your head back, satisfied with his reaction. He seemed slightly disappointed until you rolled down the condom, cracking your neck.

"I think I've given enough." You stood up, getting back on top of him and his glorious thighs. "Time for you to be taken."

Jungkook smirked.

You smirked wider and more wickedly.

The sky-blue memo was crumpled into a ball, fallen to your hardwood floor.

Held him with two fingers, ugh, the weight of his cock, fuck yes, and those beautiful dark chocolate eyes, Jungkook, you dumbass, cursing that he didn't tell you sooner so that you could watch him groan and throw his head back like he was right now, gasping at your tightness, your name torn from his throat as you took in every centimeter of him, every pulsing vein and contour of his wonderful cock, stupid Jungkook and his attractive self not using his damn words so you could ride him like you were right now, setting up a fast, bruising pace. Your fingers dug into the back of the couch as you bucked your hips into his violently, keeping yourself tight because you were so fucking wet, fuck, so wet for Jeon Jungkook and his idiotic self, asking for internet to do his school assignments and not asking for his dick to be used as your fucking joystick. 

Dumbass.

"Oh fuck," Jungkook gasped. "Oh, fuck, you're so wet and tight, shit, shit, shit..."

"Tell me something I haven't heard before," you chuckled, only half-meaning it, waving your entire body to deliver a particularly hard smack to his crotch, Jungkook whimpering under you, his hands flying to your upper arms and clutching them, trying to hold on to your wildness.

"Holy fuck, you have some hard biceps," he blurted out, startled at the prominent muscle.

Well, you haven't heard that one before.

"Guess that's what happens when you jack off a lot of dick," you mused nonchalantly.

You ticked your head to Jungkook's arms – delicious – and he frowned at you, opening his mouth to protest and you cut him off by shoving two fingers into his lips, pressing them down into the wet warmth, grinning maniacally as you watched him struggle with your fingers rubbing his tongue and his cock getting assaulted by you aggressively slamming your hips down and clamping around his stiffness, tighter, faster, whines of your name in his throat, head falling back onto the couch with a flump. You were careful not to push your fingers too far. 

Getting vomited on wasn't really on your sexual activities bingo card.

Jungkook was, however, drooling down his chin and neck, and you pulled back to grab his shoulder with your wet hand – oh, fuck, his shoulder, what a lovely shape – and Jungkook wheezed for breath, you ignoring it as you focused all your energy on fucking the life out of him, dirty squelches and smacks of hips on hips, staring down at his abs and v-line, all his hard work at the gym on display, his hands still on your upper arms as he raised his hips to meet yours, needily moaning for you to destroy him with your pace.

Damn, maybe you would have sent him a love letter if you had seen him naked at least once.

"A-Ask me to cum for you," Jungkook finally got out, voice hoarse from breathing so hard for so long.

"You're going to anyway," you taunted.

"Want you to ask," he whined, almost pouting. "Tell me to do it."

You gazed into his eyes, into those brown irises overtaken by black pupils, him a top spinning by your hand, your plaything commanded by your body, pussy clenching around his twitching cock, spurred on from his pleading tone, giving him a devious and wicked grin, speaking to his swollen lips, the devil knows your name, Jungkook, and him moaning back, fuck yes she does, so close, so fucking close, unashamedly barreling towards your release, power in your veins and under you, his muscles rippling as he fucked you back, amplifying every thrust.

"Jungkook."

"Y-Yes?"

"Say it."

Brown eyes locked with yours.

"I love you. Marry me."

You smirked.

"Cum for me."

A half-second and then you let go, letting the feeling rush in and envelop you, the moment held back to torture him, and now you felt it all, already at the tipping point, strained moan as your orgasm crashed into you, shudders all over and falling, sitting all the way down in his lap to experience the throbbing ache of your core giving out and spilling onto his cock and balls in rapid bursts, viscous and sweet. The scent of sex mixing with blackberry and spiced vanilla, his length jerking inside you, and only then did you hear Jungkook crying out your name over and over, the roar in your ears fading out to his shivering moans, hands sliding up and down your arms, eyes closing and lost in the pleasure of your pussy squeezing out his cum. His touch travelling down to your waist, pulling you to him.

Messy, soft kisses, your name and curses mixed together.

"It's me, right?"

You smiled into his mouth that was still asking questions.

"Please let it be me. You'll let me love you for real, right?"

Pushing your hair back, his sweaty blond locks sticking to your face.

"Because I already do, can't stop, won't stop–"

"Yeah, Jungkook, funnily enough I figured that from the first kiss already," you chuckled, running your fingers through his ash blond hair and pulling his head back lightly, seeing him pout, the mole underneath his lower lip peeking out.

"But..."

"Hm?"

His voice suddenly small, vulnerable, his semi-hard dick still inside you.

"Do you love me?"

You lifted a brow. "What kind of dumbass question is that?" You grabbed his arm and pressed your nail into his tattoo of your words, drawing a pink scratch under them, making him gasp. "How can I not love you? Fuck, that's the sexiest thing I've ever seen, my handwriting tattooed onto you. Yes, I love you, Jungkook."

Jungkook's jaw dropped.

This fool is still shocked after all this?

You reached down and held the condom down as you lifted yourself off, yanking him to his feet, pushing Jungkook to your coffee table, right in front of the pile of letters with his name all over them. You picked up your laptop and pushed it onto his chest, forcing him to hold it, him still confused, mildly stunned, not knowing what the fuck was happening.

Then you made him half-straddle your coffee table and yanked off the condom.

"Um–"

Grabbed his cock and started furiously jacking him off.

"Oh, f-fuck!"'

And then he realized what you were doing, the sheer wrongness of it, getting harder and harder with every second, throbbing in your hand.

"You're just like them," you chuckled through exerted breath.

Faster, rougher, tighter, Jungkook clutching your laptop, his larger frame leaning against yours, head thrown back so far that his blond hair was brushing your shoulder, moaning lustfully as he thrusted his hips into your grip. White pooled onto the purple-red tip of his abused cock, far too sensitive to be jacked off this hard right after orgasm, but Jungkook begged you not to stop, streams of residual cum running down your slicked fingers.

"Always looking for your fix from the addiction that's me," you whispered into his ear, laced with an authoritative growl. 

You saw Jungkook's head lower out of your periphery, eyes opening, staring at the colorful envelopes with his name printed on them, the cute stickers and neat handwriting, panting your name, tendons and veins standing out on his neck, sweat beading on his tan skin. 

A low, dangerous chuckle rising in his throat. 

"There's a difference between them and me."

You felt his cock twitch in your hand, ridiculously hard at what you two were about to do. 

"They're not going to get their fix."

Jungkook shuddered against you, jerking his hips forward, thick white strings splattering all over the pastel paper as you watched, fascinated, the scent of his cum saturating the air and the envelopes, drops soaking and smearing the carefully written ink, time wasted and defiled. 

"I am," he moaned, twisting his body on your arms, leaning down to kiss you hungrily as you squeezed his cock, draining it all out, all over your coffee table and coating your hand, stained with Jeon Jungkook's love letter to you. 

--

masterpost

[the-broken-truth]

Can I request i male reader who treats all of the lords and mother mranda like his own kids cause of his animal instincts? 🙍‍♂️🐾

(You can choose the sifter)

Broken (Chuckles): Hello, @imanewboi99 - back again to spoil me with delicious scenarios, are you? (Reads ask) A Shifter that treats The Lords & Mother Miranda like his children? Hm...I can imagine the Lords but the Lords see Mother Miranda as their mother...I'll make him Miranda's Lover - Hopefully that is good for you, my friend. As for Shifter Form... I'll make him a Caracal Cat; I like their ears and they have stubby little tails, plus cats are one of the animals I think will take in another animal's infant as their own. Now, let the words weave together!

Note: The Reader will be known as [Father].

🦇 [Alcina Dimitrescu] 🦇

When Alcina met [Father] during the Lord Meeting, she didn't like him for the simple fact he was a man but she was curious of the large feline ears he had in replacement for his human ears & they weren't just for show - he made that clear when Karl called Alcina 'Lady Super-Sized Bitch' during a Lord Meeting, causing the tall buff man to walk over to the 4th Lord and glare down at him.

His Response: "You will not refer to another Lord, your sister, and my daughter as a 'bitch' in my presence or the presence of your mother and siblings again, Karl Heisenberg or I show you the power I hold in a way you will not be fond of. Now, apologize to Alcina this minute."

When Karl didn't move fast enough, [Father] grabbed the German by his trench coat and held him high (Keep in mind that [Father] is around the same height as Alcina) with a glare on his face and snarl in his voice, "I SAID 'APOLOGIZE', YOU UNGRATEFUL BOY!'; Karl wheezed out an apology before the man placed in back on the pew, "And never...disrespect anyone of my children again, I wouldn't let any of them do it to you, Son." then he went to sit.

As time went on, [Father] would come to Castle Dimitrescu and repair any kind of structural damaging or ask Alcina if she needed anything to be delivered to the castle.

Alcina would say, "Father, you don't need to worry yourself with these petty issues."

But he would say, "As your father, I don't want my eldest daughter and granddaughters to be without. Please, let me be a good father and grandfather to you and my granddaughters, Alcina."

Alcina was touched and handed him a list of things she needed to be taken care of that no one else would do or couldn't do. Everything was done within a few hours.

When it comes to the daughters, [Father] loves them as a man would love his biological grandchildren.

He would come to the castle with gifts: A new book collection for Bela, Gadgets of Torment for Cassandra, or a new weapon for Daniela.

If the daughters were bored and had nothing to do, [Father] would turn into his Feline Form and let the daughters hunt him, but he was rather fast & which made the daughters have fun with the chase.

[Father] has a manor that is around the same size as Heisenberg's Factory and the daughters love to visit because the large man spoils them too much.

They would go every single weekend but one day, Alcina told them that they didn't need to go everything single weekend and to give [Father] some space. The daughters didn't like that and called their grandfather to complain and waited around the corner when Alcina received a call from [Father].

"Father, all I said was they don't need to be over there all of the time," Alcina explained.

"Alcina, don't say anything to me; you are lucky that I am 5 whiskey glasses in, otherwise I would come to get them myself. Call the carriage and bring me my granddaughters." He hung up after that.

Not wanting to disappoint her Father Figure, she called the carriage and delivered the daughters and she was given a case of fine wines to relax with while they were with him.

She may hate men - but [Father] was the only man-thing she would admit to caring about. Mother Miranda picked well.

🎎 [Donna Beneviento + Angie] 🎎

[Father] knew that Donna was timid & Angie was her way of communication - he didn't want to frighten her thus began their relationship with phone calls.

For the most time, he spoke to Angie and each conversation would with [Father] asking if Donna or Angie needed anything; yes, he considered Angie another person and not just a doll.

On the occasion that they did need something, he would go purchase what they needed and let it on the porch of Beneviento Manor, knocked on the door, and stepped away; he knew that Donna was scared of his height.

One day, he was delivering some Doll Parts Donna asked for, he did his normal routine and was about to leave when Angie called out and asked if he wanted to come in for tea. He accepted.

He shrunk himself to be a more acceptable height for Donna and the three of them had tea and conversation.

Donna became more adjusted to his presence and would call him herself - without Angie - and ask if they would have tea, make dolls together, or work in the garden together.

One day, he came with an eyepatch with the Crest of House Beneviento stitched into it as a way to cover the scar but not her whole face.

At the next meeting, she wore it.

Salvatore complimented her on it and she said 'Father made it for me.'

He smiled.

🐟 [Salvatore Moreau] 🐟

Salvatore was curious about [Father] but was too nervous to talk to him - thinking he was going to be mean or make fun of him his appearance. Imagine his surprise when [Father] wanted up to him and smiled before saying, 'Hello, Salvatore. It's nice to meet you, son.".

Salvatore looked at him with wide eyes - he thought of Salvatore as a son? He didn't make fun of him?

Salvatore and [Father] would talk whenever they saw each other at the Lord Meetings but one day, [Father] asked to spend a day with his son because he never got to learn about him.

Salvatore was nervous but agreed.

When [Father] arrived at Salvatore's Territory, he was displeased that his son was living in such poor conditions and he vowed to do something about it and his son's vomiting.

The two of them spent hours watching movies together and eating cheese & fish while Salvatore told [Father] everything about him.

One day, Salvatore was surprised to see his father building a new house on steady ground and told Salvatore that it was his new home because he was not gonna let his Lord and Son live in poor conditions like that. Salvatore was also informed that there was a new collection of movies for the two of them to enjoy.

They have movie nights every Wednesday and Sunday.

As for Salvatore's vomiting, [Father] was able to make an elixir that prevents vomiting but Sal has to drink it every month. It's bitter but he will do it regardless.

🛠 [Karl Heisenberg] 🛠

[Father] knew that Karl was still cross with him for embarrassing him before Mother Miranda and the Other Lords & no real father would want his son to be angry with him at every family get-together.

[Father] went to Karl's Factory with an apology but when he went inside, he saw his son running from a strange contraption with a large drill arm.

His Paternal Instincts kicked in and he charged at the creature, crushing its head in his hand before turning to his son to make sure he was alright.

Karl was angry to see him at first but he did thank him for saving his life before that thing turned him into a pin-cushion. He then asked [Father] what he was doing in his factory and the taller man said he didn't want any bad blood between the two of them and offered his services to his son.

Karl wasn't interested and first but he then realized that he could use [Father] to get inside information on Miranda so he agreed.

The two of them worked on projects, blueprints, or repairs for hours, enjoying each other conversation and presence.

[Father] asked the 4th Lord to be kinder to the other lords - he hated seeing his family argue and be bitter with each other.

Karl - while he never saw the others as his family - agreed to this for the sake of the only one he really respected and cared for.

Karl was still planning on making Miranda suffer for what she had done to him and the others...but...Did [Father] really deserve it?

This man - he had a heart of gold - but it was clear he suffered as well and this 'family' was the only thing that kept him together, kept him happy - Karl didn't want him to be unhappy.

What would destroying Miranda and this 'family' do to [Father]? Karl wondered but at the same time, he didn't want to know. This man was a father to him...what was he supposed to do?

🧪 [Mother Miranda + The Lords As A Whole] 🧪

Miranda would wake up to the smell of [Father]'s cooking and coffee every morning - he refused to let her start the daily research without a good meal and coffee, and she didn't object to this - the man made some delicious food.

One day - Miranda went to the meeting grounds and found the man cleaning, fixing pillars, and making individual thrones for the Lords, Mother Miranda, and himself. Reason: "My wife and children are not sitting on old ass furniture and possibly getting sick."

The Lords love their thrones - he even made one for Angie.

When an argument - mostly between Alcina and Karl - broke out, [Father] would roar for them to shut up and respect the Mother of All and each other.

"You are my children - not savages - and you will act like it or I shall show you how savages were treated where I came from!"

It would take Miranda's gentle hand to calm him when the children acted out of line.

When it came to the Cadou Experiments - [Father] would aid Miranda or his children without a second thought. Whatever they needed, he would get for them.

[Father] would try to have a family dinner with everyone at his manor once a week, just so the family could all be together.

As much as Miranda didn't want to admit it - she loved the dinners; it really felt as if she had a real family.

Maybe...when Eva was returned to her...they could be a family.

[End]

[kyinpeachichu]

Genshin impact boys reaction to showing them your magical serenitea pot

===================================================Basically their reaction when you show them a whole adeptal world of your own inside something that can fit in a bag. Characters mentioned: Diluc; Kaeya; Childe/tartaglia; Zhongli; Bennett; Xiao; Kazuha; Albedo. ====================================================

Diluc:

"Your house? I never knew you actually had a place to stay."

- Aaaannnndddddd he turns you down cuz he's busy at the moment.

- You had to ask him a few times but he pretty much turned you down every time.

-He didn't mean anything bad by it. He really was just busy. He still is the dark knight hero after all.

- When he had free time though, he was sitting by himself in his room, and he feels like he's forgetting something.

- Then he remembered you and he thought "Well I have free time now. It would be interesting to see where the traveler lives."

- He went out to find you, and when he did, he brought it up.

- You were so excited and happy when you pulled out your teapot from your inventory..... that it confused him for a second.

- "Oh... uh, I didn't know you collected antiques too Traveler. Is that a new decoration you found for you home?"

- To be honest he thought the teapot looked kinda normal, and it didn't have any historic value by the looks of it. But he didn't want to be rude and question your tastes.

- You looked at him for a second before remembering that you actually have to explain

- "Oh, right. This may be a little confusing but...... this teapot, is my house......"

- Diluc was just straight up confused. He didn’t know what to say. "Uh..... I see....."

- But you didn't let him wait and you let him your teapot home.

- He was surprised of course, but at the same time, he somehow knew something like this could happen to you.

- He was in awe, but he didn't show it. (Much to your disappointment)

Kaeya

"Oh my, Are you inviting me over? Well what gives me the right to say no?"

- you were happy he said yes almost immediately.

- "So, where do we go?" / "Oh, we dont need to go anywhere. My house is riigghhttt- Here!"

- He was surprised when you dug through you inventory and pulled out a teapot.

- He was confused but he didn't say anything.

-You didn't waste time pulling him into your humble abode~

- You turned to see his reaction, and you were happy to see it

- He showed more reaction than Diluc did. His one un-covered eye was open wide and his mouth was ajar. But he didn't let out so much as a gasp.

- After that he laughed and said "You never cease to amaze me Traveler."

Childe/Tartaglia/Ajax

"Sure, I dont have anything to do at the moment."

- and just like that, he agreed

- Being a rich bank owner- (*cough* sugar daddy), you can bet his home in snezhnaya will be a friggin mansion.

- He doesn't expect your house to be a mansion though. But if he sees that it's just an old shed, he's gonna buy you one.

- "So where is this home of yours?"

- You pulled out your teapot from the inventory and he didn't seem surprised.

- But he did wonder what that teapot was for.

- When you finally showed him what it was for, he definitely didn't expect a whole terrain. Much less the mansion infront of him.

- it was smaller than the one he had back home, but it was still a mansion.

- His face was full of wonder than with shock or surprise.

- "I gotta say comrade, when you said you we aking me to your house, I definitely did not expect this."

Zhongli:

"Your house you say. Well I dont have a reason to decline right?"

- To be fair, being an archon who associated with the adepti, he wasn't surprised and immediately knew the second you pulled out a teapot.

- However, the thing that surprised him most was how one of these fell into your hands.

- He cant assumed you found one on your travels. No adeptus would be so foolish as to leave something like this around for a human to find.

- Anyways, when you were both inside he immediately knew who gave it to you.

- "Ah, I see, it was madame Ping who gave thus to you."

- "How did you know?"

- "I feel a certain..... presence of hers. Also, the terrain seems to have her touch."

- He was pleased with how well decorated the place was. (Assuming you didn't fill the place with pine folding screens)

- (He was considering getting one too because he's probably too broke to get a place of his own)

- (But lets leave it to the imagination and hope he's living with Childe in the meantime)

Bennett:

"Oh, you have a house? Gotta say, since you were a traveler, I didnt actually expect you to have a place to stay. Sure I'll visit your house!"

- You dug through your inventory and presented him a teapot

- "Woah whats that? An artifact?" / "Nope, this is where I live."

- Then lo and behold your very own world!

- His eyes were ✨sparkling✨

- Probably have the best reaction out of everyone.

- "Wooaahhhh!!!! Traveler..... you live here?!? I-in the teapot?!? This is a teapot!?!"

- The boy was so excited, running around the place and exploring the whole place!

- He almost didn't even notice the giant mansion that was actually the place where you stayed.

- When you let him inside he was even more excited.

- He asked if he could stay the night before he was even aware he said it.

- And you let him, even gave the guy an extra room.

- "I gotta say traveler, you really are lucky to have a home right in your bag! And I'm lucky to be invited here. Thanks so much!"

- such a sweet boi

Xiao

"Perhaps I can spare some time. Alright, I'll come for a visit."

- Well he was alot easier to convince than you thought

- Actually no you had to find him all over liyue and whenever you did find him, he'd be too busy.

- This is like, the 6th time you asked him

- "Where is it? Is it somewhere within Liyue?"

- You got your teapot and he was confused for a second but immediately knew what it was later.

- before he could say anything you were both inside.

- He was more or less the same as Zhongli. Being an adeptus himself, he had an idea on what was going on, but was surprised you had access to this kind of adeptal magic.

- So sadly, he didn't have the best reaction except for: "Huh, I didn't know you had access to an adeptal world like this. Much less make it your home."

- "Do you like it Xiao?" / "Well ...I suppose it is quite peaceful here."

Kazuha

"An invitation to the home of the traveler who saved Inazuma? Well, it's not like the wind tells me not to."

- He had to ask permission from Beidou first before leaving. She didn't mind.

- "So traveler, where's this humble home of yours?"

- While still on Beidou's ship (cuz thats where he was), you took out your teapot, and he looked quiet puzzled.

- "Fogive me but, is there something you need with this teapot?"

- You let him in (the crew on the ship didn't even notice)

- He was amazed yes. His face looked like he was watching a firework show.

- It was night time in your teapot so the stars were out.

- "Amazing, a whole entire world, all to yourself, inside a simple trinket that a person could turn a blind eye on if it were at a flea market.

And to think suck a world could fit inside a bag, and in the palm of our hands. Traveler, you have always been one to be full of surprises."

- Aw god his poetic speech is just 👌👌👌 (and I'm putting in more)

- he closed his eyes and inhaled the air, listening for the slightest gust of wind. (Yes there is wind the the teapot I think, I do see the grass blowing)

- "It's quiet here, so peaceful. It feels like it's completely safe here. I could find the nearest rock and doze off right now. It's beautiful here traveler. Do you mind if I stay here, just a little longer."

- Boi you can live here for the rest of your life more rent free than Mona if you'd like!

Albedo

"Huh, I never thought a traveler would have the need for place to settle in and sit still for a period of time. But sure, I'd like to see your house. I'm not too busy at the moment"

- You were in his research place right in dragonspine when you asked him.

- He began to clean up his things and getting ready to go, but then you told him that wasn't necessary.

- "Hm? Aren't we leaving?"

- You brought out your teapot, and he looked at it like it you were holding a baby bird.

- "strange, why would we need a teapot traveler?"

- without any further explination you grinned and then you brought him in.

- He was in awe.

- his eyes widened slightly while his mouth fell ajar. But other than that, he was quiet.

- "Amazing, traveler, may I be so bold to ask on what sort of alchemy you used to create this? Or maybe, this isn't alchemy at all....."

- He was more curious about every explination there is to be made than the actual place you two were at.