#This one is VERY VERY early in development from what I can tell

[rbxl-wanderer]

Veinbound

by Veinbound

[dostoyevsky-official]

The Elite College Students Who Can’t Read Books

Nicholas Dames has taught Literature Humanities, Columbia University’s required great-books course, since 1998. He loves the job, but it has changed. Over the past decade, students have become overwhelmed by the reading. College kids have never read everything they’re assigned, of course, but this feels different. Dames’s students now seem bewildered by the thought of finishing multiple books a semester. His colleagues have noticed the same problem. Many students no longer arrive at college—even at highly selective, elite colleges—prepared to read books.

This development puzzled Dames until one day during the fall 2022 semester, when a first-year student came to his office hours to share how challenging she had found the early assignments. Lit Hum often requires students to read a book, sometimes a very long and dense one, in just a week or two. But the student told Dames that, at her public high school, she had never been required to read an entire book. She had been assigned excerpts, poetry, and news articles, but not a single book cover to cover.

[...] Twenty years ago, Dames’s classes had no problem engaging in sophisticated discussions of Pride and Prejudice one week and Crime and Punishment the next. Now his students tell him up front that the reading load feels impossible. It’s not just the frenetic pace; they struggle to attend to small details while keeping track of the overall plot.

No comprehensive data exist on this trend, but the majority of the 33 professors I spoke with relayed similar experiences. Many had discussed the change at faculty meetings and in conversations with fellow instructors. [...] Daniel Shore, the chair of Georgetown’s English department, told me that his students have trouble staying focused on even a sonnet.

Failing to complete a 14-line poem without succumbing to distraction suggests one familiar explanation for the decline in reading aptitude: smartphones. Teenagers are constantly tempted by their devices, which inhibits their preparation for the rigors of college coursework—then they get to college, and the distractions keep flowing. “It’s changed expectations about what’s worthy of attention,” Daniel Willingham, a psychologist at UVA, told me. “Being bored has become unnatural.” Reading books, even for pleasure, can’t compete with TikTok, Instagram, YouTube. In 1976, about 40 percent of high-school seniors said they had read at least six books for fun in the previous year, compared with 11.5 percent who hadn’t read any. By 2022, those percentages had flipped.

[...] Mike Szkolka, a teacher and an administrator who has spent almost two decades in Boston and New York schools, told me that excerpts have replaced books across grade levels. “There’s no testing skill that can be related to … Can you sit down and read Tolstoy? ” he said. And if a skill is not easily measured, instructors and district leaders have little incentive to teach it. [...] The pandemic, which scrambled syllabi and moved coursework online, accelerated the shift away from teaching complete works.

[...] But it’s not clear that instructors can foster a love of reading by thinning out the syllabus. Some experts I spoke with attributed the decline of book reading to a shift in values rather than in skill sets. Students can still read books, they argue—they’re just choosing not to. Students today are far more concerned about their job prospects than they were in the past. Every year, they tell Howley that, despite enjoying what they learned in Lit Hum, they plan to instead get a degree in something more useful for their career.

[...] For years, Dames has asked his first-years about their favorite book. In the past, they cited books such as Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre. Now, he says, almost half of them cite young-adult books. Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson series seems to be a particular favorite.

[tonycries]

A ranking of JJK men from best to worst during your period (absolutely no one asked for this):

Nanami - Are you kidding me? In what world would this perfect husband NOT be number one?? Doesn't even need that lil' app on his phone to track your periods, bro remembers. He has it mapped out in his brain AND on his calendar. You don't even have to tell him when it starts, he'll be home with chocolates, your fav movies, and enough heating pads to last a lifetime going, "Hi, my love, I hope m'not too early but I got you these." He's never too early. Never.

Geto - Bro has been through the whole process twice already with his daughters. He KNOWS exactly what's going down when you get just a lil' too sensitive, when your cravings become just a tad sweeter. Would lay you down and give you the most soothing massages whispering about how it'll "all be over soon" and "his girl can tough it out." 10/10 is so patient, even has a period tracker on his phone.

Choso - Y'know he's a lil' confused but he's got the spirit. Curses don't have periods so trust he'll be MAD confused wondering whether you've somehow developed the same jujutsu technique as him. When you teach him though, he's gonna be the sweetest babygirl. Let's you cuddle and use him all you want, throw him around to your hearts content until you have the perfect pillow!! Only minus points would be for that little intrusive thought in his brain that just wants to.....experiment......with his technique....

Gojo - Now, you'd be confused about who has the period - you or HIM? Which, honestly if distraction is your go-to then it works out pretty well. Every cramp you get, Gojo just hates to see his pretty baby in pain, so he'd be crying out. He'd be right there moaning and groaning along with you until you're crying tears of laughter because what the fuck?? Extra points because he's a sweet connoisseur and knows ALL the best places to get you everything you want. Trust, bro doesn't skimp out either he'd be diving IN to that Gojo Estate old money just to get you more than everything you need. Much more.

Toji - Now, hear me out it's not that man doesn't know what to do. It's just that he doesn't want to. Not to bully his cute girl, but does he really have to get out of bed and walk the treacherous block down to the convenience store to get you extra pads? Really? He'd much rather stay in bed cuddling you and kissing every inch of your face he could reach - seriously, his old bones are creaking at the very thought of moving. But, eventually, when you do bribe him with a dollar convince him to go, he'd be pampering you and more with your own money.

Sukuna - Bro definitely tells you to "just suck it back in wtf." -3878473 aura for him, but at least Uraume is on your side and gives him a good whack to the head. When he realizes a bit tho would be a bit softer than usual, at least he'll stop calling you his usual names after your sensitive self tears up at them. Mhm, definitely take him to try out a cramp simulator, though he deserves it.

[consultingskeletondetective]

Colonel's Girl

You’re the young army nurse on base and König decides to keep a protective eye on you. You don’t mind at all, the Colonel is sweet and safe - until he isn’t.

masterlist 🩷 ao3

tags: military inaccuracies, blood and injury, angst, smut, oral sex, vaginal sex

This was your first time on a real military base. You’d done field medic training of course, but this was the first time in your career as an army nurse that you’d been shipped out to base, far from home, calling a tiny bunk room your own in a building full of rowdy young recruits. 

Their daily training brought them to you constantly with scrapes and bruises and concussions. They were feisty, adrenaline-fuelled young men, and you were one of the few women on base. The catcalling and the leering didn’t surprise you, even if it was unwelcome. 

“What time do you get off, darlin’?” Private Turner drawled in a cockney accent as you applied butterfly stitches to a bleeding split across his eyebrow. “Maybe I can come to your room and we can keep each other company-”

“Turner!” It was barked, a stern command from an accented voice. The private paled as Colonel König stomped into your clinic, and you blushed. König was a very imposing man. He was at least 6”9 by your reckoning, and just as broad, in his late 30s or early 40s with a thick Austrian accent. His years of military training had given him a thick, muscular frame, with his broad thighs barely contained in cargo trousers and steel-capped boots on his feet, a black tee stretched over his chest and biceps the size of your torso. You knew what he looked like under that hood, square jawed and piercing blue eyes, but today he’d kept it on, his eyes framed and dark. It was no surprise you blushed whenever you saw him.

“Colonel?” He stood and turned. His voice held none of its previous bravado. Next to König, he looked like a mere boy.

“Two weeks of toilet cleaning duty.” König said gruffly, “and if I catch you using that kind of language again, it will be a month. Understood?”

Turner slumped. “Yes, sir.”

“Get out of my sight.”

Turner, chastised, scampered out of your clinic without looking at you.

König turned his hulking form towards you and actually had to look down to greet you. 

“Pardon, ma’am. He won’t step out of line again.”

Ma’am . Your blush deepened. You gave him a small, nervous smile. 

“Thank you, Colonel, that’s very kind of you.”

“These boys don’t know yet how to respect a lady, but they will.”

“Once you’re done with them?” You smiled playfully.

“If I have done my job correctly.” He said kindly, before turning on his heel and leaving swiftly. You giggled. 

You didn’t see much of König at the start of training, his rank and his experience meant that he didn’t end up in your clinic as much as his recruits did, but when you did pass each other in the hall or by exchanging paperwork, he was nothing less than a courteous and charming gentleman. It seemed bizarre, considering you’d heard tell that he was a brawling killing machine out on the field, but he could switch from barking stiff orders to giving you a gentle smile that made you blush in the blink of an eye. You had to routinely remind yourself that this didn’t make you special, he was just being respectful, and you weren’t used to that. It didn’t matter that he was a soldier, or nearly twice your age, it didn’t take you long to develop a crush on the handsome and mysterious Austrian. 

A few days later and you were stood in line to the mess hall. It was breakfast, and you’d seen the black pudding in the warming trays as soon as you’d stepped in. You were practically salivating as you waited, it wasn’t often you got a creature comfort like this - something that reminded you of home - on base.

“Not often we get this kind of luxury, eh, miss?” You recognised the coarse accent before you turned. Lieutenant Riley had joined you in the line, a balaclava covering his face. You knew him a little, the infamous Ghost. You’d crossed paths with the 141 on occasion, and you knew Riley, sometimes even Captain Price, dropped into the base to provide training or engage your services. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to make polite conversation with you. In fact, it seemed the norm here. The high rankers felt a bit sorry for you, while the recruits made you feel like a piece of meat or an object of ridicule. 

You didn’t mind much, you were here to do a job, and you kept to yourself mostly anyway, but the offer of friendship was much appreciated. 

You smiled a little shyly in return. “I know, right? I hope the black pudding doesn’t go too quickly. I’ve been thinking about it all morning.”

“A girl after my own heart.” The lieutenant chuckled. In front of you, two privates who had been turning around to eavesdrop on the conversation - more to get a look at Ghost, than you, you understood - burst into laughing at your admission. Your ears turned red and you wished you’d never opened your mouth.

Riley didn’t seem to notice, he was holding his gloved hand out to König, who had somehow appeared next to him in the line since you’d looked away. You actually had to do a double take. For a near seven foot slab of muscle, he was stealthy when he wanted to be. 

The two of them talked among themselves in low voices and you left them to it, knowing you didn’t particularly want to hear the contents of whatever they needed to discuss.

You reached the front of the line and the private in front of you - the one who had laughed - piled his tray high with black pudding until the warming tray was empty. He turned and smirked mockingly at you.

“You can have my sausage, darlin’, if you ask nicely.” At least three recruits laughed. You wanted to shrink down so small you stopped existing altogether.

König’s brick hand clamped around the private’s tray and wrenched it easily from his grip.

“Sir-my breakfast…”

“Get out of the line, or I will feed you my fist.” König didn’t even raise his voice, the cold delivery had the private skulking off empty handed. König placed the tray back onto the counter and then he turned to you. 

“Help yourself, ma’am.” 

“Oh.” Your cheeks were crimson. He cocked his head, his eyes, the only part of his face visible through his black hood, looked amused. It wasn’t unkind. “T-thank you.” 

König tipped his hood towards you before turning his attention back to Riley, and the pair of them moved off to a separate table. You sat by yourself, chewing your black pudding, and smiling like an idiot. 

You glanced over to König a few times more than you would like to admit. He put you at ease, that’s what it came down to, it gave you a confidence you didn’t usually have around military men. 

It was that very ease that left you wholly unprepared for the following week.

It was ballistics training out on the grounds, and you caught wind of an accident halfway through your sandwich.

“Come quick!’ An officer skidded into your office, “there’s been an accident - potential fatality.”

You cursed, and gathered your supplies, before following him out of your clinic and out onto the training ground. Recruits stood nervously holding rifles, their half-shot targets abandoned. A young recruit was wailing on the ground, another kneeling beside him and pressing against his belly with a jacket, there was blood on the sand. 

König was towering over a young private - the same young man who had laughed at you in the mess hall, you briefly noted - and barking bloody murder in his terrified face. It took you more than a moment to realise that König wasn’t actually speaking German, you could just barely make a word out in his fury. 

It was easy to tune out, you’d been out in the field before, and turn your attention to your patient. You knelt beside the terrified looking private stemming the bleeding, and carefully lifted his jacket to look at his wound while the young man screamed.

“You’re going to be okay.” You said confidently, calmly. “It’s nothing we can’t stitch up. Private, keep putting pressure on the wound, just like this, you’re doing a good job.” Just this once, you were obeyed without question. 

“I will have you court-martialed, dummkopf, you could have killed him. You come onto my base, you do not listen to a word I say, and now you attack my men? You sorry piece of -”

“König,” you cut through the accented remonstration, pulling bandages from your bag, “I need your men to carry him to my clinic immediately, then you have to-”

König turned swiftly to you, those bright blue eyes visibly narrowed in the slits of his hood. “Do not fucking give me orders, nurse.” He seethed, voice ice cold with rage, fists clenched and towering over you. “You address me as Colonel, you little girl.” The white hot fury in his eyes matched the venom in his voice. You baulked, in fear, in surprise, horrified to realise tears were gathering in your eyes. You looked back down on the man in your arms and forced yourself to regain your composure.

“I need to get him to my clinic, I can’t lift him myself.” Your voice was steady, if muted, throwing your gaze over your shoulder at König and the recruits staring at you. “Please, colonel .”

König turned from you and began barking your orders at his men and within moments, your patient was being carried between three recruits back to your clinic. You turned and rushed after them. You extracted the bullet from his ribs and sewed up the damage as numbly as you treated any one of your patients. You left your makeshift surgery room with bloody hands and sweat on your forehead, surprised to find König leaning against the wall in your waiting room. He’d stripped out of his uniform to a simple pair of combat trousers and a black shirt that looked like it was losing a fight with his bicep muscles. His hood was held lax in his hand, giving you a rare glimpse at his face. It was no surprise to you that he looked exhausted. He pushed himself from the wall when you entered. Like a gentleman , you thought bitterly.

“Will he live?” He asked you, his voice soft. It was just like every other interaction you’d had on base. 

“It was a flesh wound. He’ll be fine, Colonel.” Your words were stiff, and you walked straight past him without even a glance, feeling like a complete idiot that you’d ever thought he might treat you with the slightest bit of respect. You were angry until the adrenaline wore off, then you cried in your bed.

The recruit, Jenkins, pulled through the night, and the next day he was airlifted to the nearest hospital. The accidental shooter was gone, and you didn’t care to ask what had happened. Training was halted for a few days as a result and you had a quiet week, but you weren’t complaining, as you now had a mountainous amount of paperwork to complete. You were grateful when you were able to file the heft of paper into your pigeon hole to be sent off, and rewarded yourself with a sit down in the breakroom to the main office.

You looked up on instinct more than anything when the door opened. König walked in, in combat boots and a military vest, his hood over his eyes and helmet strapped to his head, like he’d just come straight from deployment. He glanced at you with tired blue eyes, but all you could see was the fury in them when he’d scared you the week before. You felt stupid for thinking someone like König would ever be nice to you. You were just the idiot girl on base.

“Morning, ma’am.” He said pleasantly when he saw you, slipping one hand into his trouser pocket as he poured himself coffee from the pot on the table.

“Hey.” You replied, voice flat, suddenly finding your nails remarkably interesting.

“Is everything okay?”

“Fine.” Another one word answer. You still weren’t looking at him. 

König shifted uneasily. The atmosphere in the room changed. Of course it did, he was used to you being a blushy, smiling, pathetic mess for him. 

Concerned, König crossed the small space to you. He didn’t sit. From what you could see from your lowered head, his hand was no longer in his pocket.

“If this is about what happened…you did well, Jenkins will recover.”

“I know I did fine.” You genuinely didn’t mean to snap. “I don’t need you to tell me that.”

The conversation went dead, the atmosphere was palpable. You didn’t know whether it was his culture, or his military status, but König went right to the point.

“Have I offended you?”

Was he being willfully obstinate? You felt your humiliated aggravation grow. Well, you were in it now.

“Just leave me alone.”

There was a pause. And then another. Neither of you moved.

“As you wish.”

He left swiftly after that, and you finally looked up at the empty room. You felt relieved, but also hollow. It was almost like you’d done something wrong. But you hadn’t, had you? König’s coffee was abandoned on the table.

König left you alone, and that pissed you off even more. He walked past you in the mess hall, he didn’t glance down to smile at you anymore, he didn’t come into the clinic, even though you secretly hoped he would. Your self-esteem was pretty much on the floor after that, and the base got just that little bit lonelier.

Two recruits barrelled into your office a few days later, one had a busted lip and they both had black eyes. They'd clearly been in a fight, but whether that was with each other, or someone else, you didn’t care to ask. You stayed quiet as you applied butterfly stitches to their cuts, and they were happy enough to complain between themselves.

“You’re a dickhead, Williams, the Colonel’s gonna fucking kill us.” 

“Relax, he’s not going to know.”

“He’s been such a dick lately. He put Taylor on shit detail for a fortnight for having his shoelace untied.”

“Probably because he has to look at your fucking ugly mug every day.”

“You’re done.” You cut across. “You can go.”

They thanked you and left, and you were grateful to get the foul mouthed privates out of your office. 

It was getting dark outside and you were tired. You left your clinic and crossed the training ground to the mess hall. There were still soldiers out here, practising hand to hand combat under the floodlights. You gave them a wide berth.  

You didn’t see the abandoned dummy grenade wedged in the sand until your foot hooked around it and you vaulted over with an unladylike grunt. 

A large hand curled around your wrist and stilled you before you ate dirt. You cursed under your breath and turned inward. König was towering above you, your wrist positively dwarfed by his gloved hand. His hood obscured his face, shrouding him in the darkness behind him, all except those bright eyes looking down on you.

“You should be more careful.” He grunted, releasing your wrist.

Your eyes hit the ground and you mumbled a hasty ‘sorry’ before you scampered away to the mess hall. König watched your retreating back as you left.

The next few days passed uneventfully. You worked, you ate, you slept, you called home. The clinic was surprisingly empty. You wondered if the recruits were finally becoming competent enough that they didn’t need you every five seconds. You signed off your discharge sheets for the day and headed to the main office to dump them in the output box. You were surprised to find König in there, sans hood, rifling through a box of papers on the desk. He glanced up when he saw you and his expression wilted. He looked back into the box. 

“I’ll be out of your hair in a second.” He said. “I just need to find the instruction manual for the - s cheiße .” The papers in his hand fluttered to the ground. He bent down to retrieve them and winced, arm circling his broad torso. 

You frowned and took a step closer to him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked. 

“Nothing.” He replied instantly as he straightened. His movements were slower than usual. 

“It doesn’t look like nothing, König, it looks like cracked ribs.”

“It’s fine, really.”

You put your discharge forms on the desk and walked up to him. “Lift your shirt.”

König sighed but complied after a moment. He lifted his dark tee to his pectorals. His deep abdominal muscles rose and fell under his breathing and you found your cheeks reddening under the sight. A makeshift bandage was wrapped around his torso, and you reached out and lifted it. His skin was like lava against your fingers. He didn’t say a word as you lifted the bandage but he may have winced when your eyes widened. The right hand side of his ribcage was purple with deep bruising and lacerated with deep and shallow cuts alike, some were healing, and some were leaving blood stains on the inside of the bandage. 

“Oh my god, what happened?”

“Nothing.” König grunted. “Machine gun training. One of the recruits lost control of the barrel and clocked me in the ribs. It is just a scratch.”

“This cut needs stitches.” You said automatically, tracing the underside of the welt with your fingertip. König jolted and you took your hand away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you-”

“You didn’t.” He replied.

“I have cream that’ll reduce this bruising too-” König huffed and you looked up at him. You couldn’t quite decipher the expression on his face. He might as well have been wearing his hood.

“It is fine.” He said. “The bruising has disappeared a lot in the last few days…”

“ Days ?” You blinked. “Days, König? You can’t have been walking around like this for days. Why didn’t you come to me?”

There was a pause. He was trying to avoid your gaze.

“You told me to leave you alone.”

“König,” it was reprimanding, reproachful, your eyes slackened. “You always need to come to me when you’re hurt, even when I’m mad. I’m sorry.”

König’s eyes snapping to you made you regret the words as soon as they were out of your mouth. Your gaze dropped to the grazes on his ribs but your cheeks were already on fire. 

“Are you ever going to tell me why you are mad at me?”

You didn’t meet his gaze. It seemed pathetic now. “You yelled at me.”

König didn’t respond straight away. When he did - “I yelled at you?”

You fought off the sudden urge to say sorry.

“When Jenkins was shot.” You explained. “I’m not one of your soldiers. I don’t like being screamed at, especially when I’m doing my job.” Your voice dropped a little. “And I’m not a little girl, I’m a nurse. You should respect that, just like the way you tell your troops to.”

You glanced up at König, he looked crestfallen. “I…” He frowned a little, as if giving up on any explanation he planned to give. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You shook your head, embarrassed, and lowered his shirt.

“It’s not important now-”

“It is important. I don’t think you are a little girl. Sometimes in battle, things like this become heated. I do not even remember saying this to you, but I am sorry. I do not think that, I truly do not, I was…one of my men was dying, I was not myself. Please forgive me.”

Your eyes met. It felt like the first time you’d looked at each other in a long time. König’s blue eyes were soft and sad.

“Um, come to the clinic, this afternoon,” you rose, flustered, “I, uh, that cut needs looking at.”

You turned swiftly and left but not before you heard König utter a single ‘yes ma’am’ before you did. 

You thought about what he said as you sterilised your clinic for his arrival. Maybe it was just the heat of the moment, but you managed to keep your cool? Why didn’t he? Because he’s a soldier, you reminded yourself. He kills easily and without thought, he’s not the sweet gentleman you want him to be. You shook your head to yourself, that wasn’t the issue and you knew it. You didn’t care that he was a killer, or that sometimes he scared you. You knew what his easy dismissal of you meant - and it hurt.

König reported promptly to your clinic at 1pm that afternoon. He stripped out of his shirt and sat patiently down on the end of your bed and you had to pretend like having a 7ft goliath of a man stripped down in front of you wasn’t making your heart race. He truly was extraordinary. 

You stitched the large cut on his ribs that was worrying you the most and he didn’t make a sound. it didn’t much surprise you, you assumed he was accustomed to pain. It made your stomach flutter with something . 

He was even more impressive undressed, his body heavy with swollen, toned muscle, faded scars criss-crossing over his flesh. You had to remind yourself that you were a trained nurse just to stop yourself from drooling. 

König watched you work rather intently. “You have very small hands.” He remarked suddenly. You didn’t respond, unsure if it was a compliment or not. You both lapsed into silence for another long while. It was like a form of torture. You’d never been more embarrassed in your life. You felt like a foolish little girl, trying to play with a grizzly bear. It must have shown on your face. 

You didn’t expect König to talk again. He must have thought that you were insane - pathetic, at the very least. 

“May I ask you a question?”

Oh. “Of course.”

“Why did you join the military if you hate being yelled at?”

You sighed and finished off your final stitch. “You don’t have to mock me, you know, I already got the message.”

“I am not mocking you. I’m curious.”

Forthright . You forgot.

You took a moment to respond, busying yourself with packing away your equipment. “I didn’t join as a recruit, I joined as a nurse.” You didn’t tell him the real reason, that it was because it was him.

“Right.” 

“It’s not your problem.” 

König stood, and pulled his shirt back on. “It won't happen again.” He said. “You have my word.” 

Your gaze flicked to his handsome face involuntarily. “Um, here’s the cream. Make sure to apply it twice a day, and try to take it easy for a few days.”

König grunted, a ghost of a smile on his face. You could tell he hadn’t taken it easy a day in his life. 

“What message?” König asked suddenly. 

“Sorry?” You froze, trying to backtrack to that particular exchange.

“You said you ‘got the message’.” He repeated. “What message?”

Oh. 

“Um, did I say that?” Your voice was uncharacteristically high. König tilted his head.

“Schatz, my English isn’t that bad. We both heard what you said.”

You blushed and your head dipped. You didn’t know much German, but you knew what ‘schatz’ meant. 

“Well, you know-” fuck, shit, fuck . “P-put in your place by the guy you have a crush on. I get it. I got it. I won’t go there again.”

“Crush?” König responded like a lightning strike, before he fell silent. His brain was calculating, before his expression turned to…well, there was no other way to put it, absolutely fucking floored. “You like me?”

Oh, this was very fucking bad.

“Well…yeah? I thought it was obvious-”

“Obvious? Schatz, I thought you hated me.”

You blinked. 

“Wha- why would you think that?”

“You told me to leave you alone.”

“You called me a little girl! In front of everyone.”

When exactly had you both gotten so close to each other? It was close enough that König could look down on you, and your heart was skipping a beat.

“You can’t like me.” He said quietly.

You frowned. “Why not? Have you looked at yourself? Plus you’re…you know, nice, and the only person in this dump that doesn’t leer at me or treat me like a stupid little girl. When people aren’t dying, I mean.”

“I…” Was König hesitating? The man who had nothing to fear?

“It’s okay,” you murmured, embarrassed. “Like I said, I get the message. Why would you want a pathetic sap like me who can’t even hear a raised voice without crying?”

“Do not say that.” König looked uncertain, his eyebrows knitting together. “You are like a...a flower. Not meant for men like me.”

“A…” Your brain couldn’t quite compute what you’d just heard. “Men like you? What does that even mean?”

“You need someone younger, for a start.” He sighed. “Someone who has seen less death, verdammt, someone who has caused less death.”

“Men like your idiot recruits, then?”

König didn’t respond. 

“I have to go.” He said instead. “Thank you for the…cream.”

“Anytime, Colonel.” It was softly spoken, you watched him freeze, then you watched him go. You smuggled a bottle of wine back to your room and drank until you fell asleep. This really was a new low.

…

The days passed slowly and without incident. On the face of it, there was no difference in you, except for a notably lacklustre delivery of your care. 

You were making notes at your desk when Private Jackson and his buddy, Williams, appeared at your desk, complaining of a groin injury. 

You rolled your eyes and returned to your paperwork. “I’m sure it’ll feel better tomorrow, private.”

“I’m sure it’ll feel better right now if you kiss it-”

“Shut up,” Williams chuckled, shoving him, “you wanna get a disciplinary? You know she’s the colonel’s girl.”

Your gaze snapped up. “What did you just say?”

Neither of them answered you, they just sniggered and slunk off. You watched the empty doorway with wide eyes. You tried not to ponder on it. You pondered on it for the rest of the day.

…

You signed the bottom of Williams’ sick leave and ticked off the various appropriate boxes, flipping the page and hoping that was all that was required until you froze. It needed the signature of the patient's C.O. König. Shit. 

You hadn’t even seen König since he’d rejected you and every time you thought about that particular exchange, your ears went hot and you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

You were too much of a pussy to talk to him, so instead you went to his office when you knew he was scheduled to be out at training, and scribbled ‘ sign me please :) ’ on a post it note, stuck it on the front page and left the form on his desk. 

You turned for the door with a relieved sigh and accidently walked into König’s solid chest. He was standing in the open doorway, he was the size of the open doorway, wearing his combat gear although he was unarmed, his hood draped covering his face, even so, you could see he was looking down on you. It wasn’t until you glanced up that you realised he was ducking to fit in the doorway. That sent heat right to your cunt.

“Oh, hello.” You said stupidly, eyes hitting the carpeted floor.

“Hello.” He greeted you, accent gentle. “Can I help you?”

“Oh, right, I’m in your office.” You stumbled over your words. “Um, W-Williams needs sick leave approved, he needs gallbladder surgery off base, I need you to sign the form. I - I left it on your desk.”

König walked past you, he smelt of sweat and sand and some sort of hastily applied deodorant. He seemed unfazed that you were in his office, he certainly didn’t seem to be trying to avoid you as ardently as you were avoiding him. You cursed yourself for being so childish.

He removed his hood and draped it over the back of his chair as he picked up the form. His eyes were darkened with war paint, fresh stubble on his jaw. 

“A smiling face.” He remarked as he read your post it note, voice muted. “The way yours used to be.”

You blinked. “Is that meant to be some kind of joke?” You asked hotly.

“Not at all.” He replied, not looking up from the form. “It used to brighten my days.” He signed the form and held it out to you before you could really process what he’d said. “Let us hope Williams makes a swift recovery, he is one of my best.”

You tentatively took the form, mind drawn back to the last encounter you’d had with the young private. 

“He called me…” You bit back your sentence before you had a chance to finish it. But the damage was done.

König’s back straightened, his fists clenched. “Something inappropriate?”

“No.” Your shoulders hunched. Why did you even bring it up? “He said I was…they’re calling me…you know…the colonel’s girl.”

You glanced up at König shyly, to see if there was any truth in it. His back had relaxed, but his stance was still guarded. 

“What?” You asked.

“I told the recruits to leave you alone.” He admitted. “Or there would be consequences.” 

“Oh.” You blushed. “But, that’s not a bad thing, is it?”

“No, it’s not…some of the men have interpreted the order to mean I am keeping you for myself.”

You took a bold step forward.

“And are you?”

König looked at the floor. You sighed and turned for the door.

König’s large hand curled around the front of your throat before you could turn and drew you back, right to his mouth. You whimpered into the kiss. You were forced onto your tiptoes to meet him, feeling his fingers against your oesophagus with every exhale. His lips eased wetly and insistently against yours until you were dizzy, gripping his arms and pressing yourself closer. 

As soon as it started, it was over. König released your throat and took a step back. You had to blink a few times to regain just a few of your senses. You were still on your tiptoes, and you could still taste him on your mouth. Gunpower, and mint.

“I’m sorry.” He said. “I shouldn’t have done that.” His voice was ragged, his accent even thicker than usual. Fuck, it was hot.

He turned and left before you could even articulate a response, but you were sure you saw his back muscles twitching as he went.

…

The deployment for the first active mission came about quicker than anyone had been expecting. It was practically a dummy mission, you’d been told, leading a team of recruits on a sweep near cartel lands for stray activity or potential landmines. Still, the atmosphere was palpable in the base, the recruits were scared, you could tell.

You watched from the doorway of your clinic as the men stood by the jeeps, ready to roll out. Riley had returned, and he stood next to König as the latter zipped up his kevlar and clipped on his helmet over his hood. You wanted to wish him luck, even though you knew everything was going to be fine. It was a routine sweep, and he was König, he wasn’t in any danger. Still, your stomach pulled. Fate was cruel. What if this was the last time you ever saw him?

You scrunched your eyes shut, called yourself an idiot, and jogged across the sand of the training field.

Riley saw you first, he knocked König on the chest to alert him - you tried not to read into that - König turned, face obscured, body heavy with kevlar and weaponry. He had to lower his head to look at you.

“Schatz?” 

Your insides ached at the familiar term of endearment that you didn’t deserve. Your mouth was as dry as the sand you were stood on, and you suddenly didn’t know what to say. Don’t go? Come back? How could you say any of those things to the man who didn’t want you.

König solved your problem for you. His fingers closed around your tricep, and his thumb stroked just once.

“Look after yourself.” You said quietly.

He nodded before he dropped your arm. Then you watched as they got into the jeeps and drove away.

…

The recruits were returned to you on a daily basis. Apparently, the drop point of the sweep was particularly hot for cartel soldiers, ready and willing to engage in battle. The wounds you were treating now were not the cuts and scrapes of training, it was cracked skulls and broken bones and lacerated flesh. And the men, Turner, Williams, Jackson, they weren’t the scrappy, joking lads they’d once been, they were crying and they were scared. 

You slept when you could but you were always exhausted. You were waiting for the first time one of them died on you. 

You were awoken that night by a loud, insistent banging on your door. You jumped out of bed and tied your robe around yourself, already gathering your hair up to tie it back.

“What’s happened?” You called, opening the door, “who is it…oh.”

It took a moment for you to realise that you weren’t staring at the pitch black of night, but rather directly at König’s chest. He stood in a dark shirt, helmet removed, hood covering his face, head disappearing behind your doorway, but his blue eyes were bright and wild and looking down at you.

“König! You scared me half to death. Get in here.”

You stood aside and König ducked his head and walked, actually stomped, his way into your room. You prayed you didn’t have any stray underwear on the floor. His shirt sleeves were short and you could actually see his arm muscles thrumming. 

“What’s happened?” You frowned. “What’s wrong, König? Talk to me, please.”

“There was an I.E.D.” He replied, accent thick. You couldn’t imagine what his expression looked like. “Ghost saw it before I did. He pulled me out of the pathway. The fucking thing exploded five feet in front of my face. I could have died. I am a fucking idiot.”

“Oh, König, you…you didn’t die, and you’re not an idiot, okay? Every soldier misses…”

“No, schatz.” He walked forward, backing you against the wall. You swallowed when his large hand came up, pressing your collarbone back against the wall. “I’m a fucking idiot because I could have died without doing this.”

One hand curled around your hip and lifted you effortlessly, and you gasped as you had no choice but to wrap your legs around his waist - it was a stretch, he was so broad. König wasted no time slamming you into the wall next to your bed with enough force to rattle your bones. You squeaked, but that was all you managed to do. He pushed his hood up to his nose and captured your lips with his.

Your eyes crossed and closed as you groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck as your lips slid against his. This was nothing like the first kiss - that was chaste, hurried, this was luxurious, long, wet and slow, the whole world went quiet as König pressed his tongue between your lips and lapped at yours with sure strokes that had you whimpering. Your fingers tangled in his hood as he kissed you like that, and you forgot everything else. 

He hitched your legs around his waist and you whined, muffled, as you felt a solid lump pressing up against your clothed crotch. You didn’t care – you ground down on him as you met his tongue with yours. He growled into your mouth and it reverberated through you, before he was pulling back, kissing along your jaw and grinding his cock against your heat harder than before. 

Then his eyes were on you, piercing and bright through the dark hood, the fabric sat askew on his top lip, his lips pink and swollen with your spit.

“I want you, schatz.” He said bluntly. 

“I - I want you, too.”

Your consent was all he needed. Suddenly you were airborne again, and you clung onto him as he lowered you onto the belt and knelt between your legs. The bed actually dipped under his weight and you blushed.

“K-König,” you murmured quietly.

“No,” it was short, and stiff, as he yanked your night shirt down by your collar hard enough to rip. You yelped as the sound of fabric tearing filled the room and suddenly your tits were exposed. You whimpered in embarrassment but he’d already grabbed them in his rough, gloved hands, squeezing and rubbing, flicking and pinching your nipples between his fingers.

“Hhhh, fuck.” You blushed, biting your lip as your underwear moistened at the rough treatment.

“Fuck, do not tell me they are sensitive.” König’s voice sounded wrecked.

“Please,” it was a whisper, “please be gentle.”

“Wanted to get my hands on you for too long.” Was all his reply was as he squeezed your breast again and leant down, using his hand to guide your nipple into his exposed mouth. He sucked so hard that you thought he was trying to drink your soul out from you. Your head fell back and you gasped, grinding your wet, needy cunt as best you could on the side of his thigh. König took pity on you, lapping at your nipples until they were shining nubs screaming in oversensitivity, while his brick hand - when had he taken his glove off? - cupped your pussy through your underwear. His thumb was jammed right up against your clit. You didn’t know if he’d meant to do that, or if it was coincidental, but either way you ground up onto the solid digit until your eyes were unfocused.

“So wet for me, liebling,” he murmured breathlessly, between your nipples, “you are fucking soaked for me.” He stroked you with his thumb once and your eyes slackened and you came with a shudder, stiffening beneath him as stars danced above your head.

He let your nipple slide wetly from his mouth and suddenly those bright eyes were on you.

“Did you just have an orgasm?”

“Mmm.” You buried your head into his neck shyly, thighs shuddering as the waves of pleasure rolled through you. Your clit twitched against his hand. 

“Oh, sweet liebling.” He murmured, rubbing wet circles over the sodden fabric of your underwear. You shuddered as your thighs tried to close away from the intense pleasure, until one strong hand was on your thigh and pushing it wide.

“König!” You gasped. He was watching you intently as he pushed your underwear to the side with his fingers and pressed the thick digits through your sopping folds. 

“Such a pretty little cunt.” He murmured, stroking his fingertips over your slit. It opened with every heavy breath you took, dribbles of desire wetting his fingers.

“König, please,” you whined, “need you in me. Please -”

“Oh yes? Is that so?” The side of his mouth twitched up, then his finger was sinking inside you.

“Shit, fuck! K-König, you’re so big…” You felt your cunt stretching around his finger, clenching involuntarily down around it as your thighs tried to close but couldn’t, pinned open by his solid hand.

“I know, schatz.” He replied calmly. “You can take it.” He slid a second finger in without warning and grunted at how tight and wet you were, just imagining how your cunt would feel around his cock. You whined and threw your head back, the stretch aching after months of nothing, thighs shaking. You were so fucking wet that his fingers practically glided in, his knuckles against your soft pink entrance. “I want you to come for me, to loosen you up for my cock.”

“König, fuck, I…” Your cheeks were rosy. “My god, please...please move, I need-”

“Shhh, little one, I know.” He wasted no time shoving his fingers deeper in your aching cunt, and you yelped and lifted off of the bed entirely. König growled in disapproval and used the hand on your thigh to pin you down to the bed, keeping you still as he ploughed his fingers in and out of you. You moaned deliriously at the sudden intense, rough pressure to your sweet spot, watching the way König’s large hand was like a blur between your legs.

“I’m-” You couldn’t even say it before you were coming with a wet moan, your release splashing against his wrist and dripping all over the bed.

“Scheiße, liebling, making such a mess for me.” His fingers were still hard and circling your engorged sweet spot. Your body seized in panic as you gripped his wrist with all your might to try and still him. All you achieved was watching your own arms shake as he fingered you mercilessly. The noise was obscene, soaking wet come and slick filthy between your legs and soaking his hand as you squirted again, streaming down his arm with a mix of clear and white desire. You moaned and gasped and sobbed, the pleasure intense and spiralling, your pussy already felt worn out from the rough treatment.

“König, please,” you begged, “it’s too much-”

“Again.” He commanded, hand leaving your thigh and curling around your throat. “Want all of that squirt out of you.” he pinned you to the bed by your neck, using the change in position to drive his fingers roughly home deep in your aching, spent cunt. He didn’t stop when you came, and he didn’t stop when you came again - your eyes in the back of your head, body on fire with ceaseless pleasure, the bed beneath you soaked with your own humiliation. All you could do was take it, and shudder violently. 

Finally, König pulled his fingers from your gaping hole and slapped your cheek lightly, it was a wet noise and you blinked.

“Come on, little girl, do not give up on me.”

“König,” you slurred, heaving. “I…fuck, so good, never…I can’t…”

“Oh sweet one,” he cooed, crowding between your legs, pulling your thighs over his hips. “Fucked you stupid and I haven’t even put my cock in you yet.”

You managed a tired smile as you traced your fingers down the front of his stab vest. You watched him drag the zip of his trousers down, rubbing just the once over the lump there before dipping in and pulling his cock free. It took him three tries - to extract the full, erect length of himself from the tight compression of his protective cup, before he was letting it hang heavy between his legs. 

“Fuck, König- you’re so big.”

“I know, baby,” he stroked the length of his long, engorged cock from length to tip and your eyes widened, cunt throbbing between your legs in your desperation to feel it deep in you. 

“König, please,” you begged, digging your heels into the small of his back, your wet cunt pressed up against his balls, inviting, begging him in, “my pussy - please -”

He chuckled before pressing the head of his foreboding cock against your clit and you trembled and cursed. He lent over you, hand squeezing your breast, the ends of his dark hood tickling your neck as you felt the hot, solid crown of his cock pressing against your entrance. Your eyes were wide, nervous, feeling the pressure, the give, then the hot length sliding home inside of you.

You gasped and arched, clenching around him and his biceps shook where he held you.

“Fuck, schatz, fuck, not so hard, you will make me come.”

“C-can’t help it.” It was a whine, rolling your hips and digging your heels in harder, trying to pull him deeper. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” He panted, regaining some of his composure and locking his hand around your neck once more. His hips began to piston and you weren’t prepared for it, the shift of his massive cock in your tight walls making you moan and clench and writhe. Your cunt was obscenely wet, and every noise was a squelch that made you blush, until he was pounding into your sweet spot and you forgot everything.

“Fuck, König, fuck-” it was breathless, eyelids fluttering as you clenched and groaned and sprayed his cock, his balls, with your release. “I can’t - can’t stop, fuck,”

“Guh, fuck.” He grunted, lips ghosting over yours. His cock not slowing, pounding you like he was trying to nail the mattress beneath you. “So tight, liebling, your pussy is drawing me in. I’ve waited so long for this.”

You couldn’t ask him to explain, you were too busy coming, your world zeroed down to the tip of König’s dick abusing your swollen sweet spot. He curled his fingers under your knee and held your thigh up by your collarbone, exposing more of your vulnerable cunt to him as he thrust hard into your aching walls. 

Your moans were broken and never ending, blushing and squirming in delirious agony as you gushed and creamed on his cock, feeling your hot release on the backs of your thighs.

“Look at you,” König didn’t even have the decency to sound exerted as he took you apart. “You can’t stop coming, can you, schatz?”

“No.” There were tears in your eyes, your fingernails digging into his arms, holding on for dear life. “You need, please -” Your mouth fell open as you came again, the splash of your squirt explosive and filthy, “you need to come, please, I can’t, can’t come again, please, König, please.”

König framed your jaw with his hand, stroking along the bone as he slammed his hips into yours, forcing more of your come straight from you with a grunt.

“Nearly there, schatz.” He said into your mouth. “Just a little bit longer.”

“Fuck, please,” your walls clenched and contracted again, vaulted over the edge and nearly losing consciousness, clenching your fucked out cunt tight if only to help him get there. “Please, come, come in me, fuck.”

“Scheiße,” he groaned, cock jamming in your tight cunt as you came so hard you nearly pushed him out. He shoved his way back in and you wailed. “You want me to come inside? I’m not wearing…”

“König, please,” it was pathetic, and he couldn’t deny you, watching your sobbing eyes with his piercing blues as he slammed into your weeping cunt for a few more torturous minutes, then his forehead was pressed to yours and he groaned as he spilled inside you. He was so deep you couldn’t feel it, but you could feel his cock twitching, and you could feel yourself clenching and coming so hard you forced dribbles of his white come straight back out of your slit and dribbling down between your cheeks. 

König was breathing heavily against you as he held himself, forehead against yours, body framing yours, and you watched him as you shuddered and tried in vain to relax. He was…there were no words for it.

You let your hands trail down his clothed back, feeling the solid and bunching muscles there, feeling his cock heavy in your squirting pussy and wondering how the hell this had happened.

“König,” you had a warm, dizzying smile on your face. “You came back.”

He nodded mutedly, face partially obscured by his hood, as he stroked along your jaw, then your lips, and let his hulking body fall and rest beside yours. “Thought you might not want me.”

You shook your head, curling into his chest the best you could. He was still inside you.

“Want you, always. Don’t-'' He'd already curled his bear arms around you, drawing you into his warm chest and cutting you off. You were suddenly so overhot you couldn’t remember what you were going to say.

“I’m sorry I upset you, liebling,” he stroked along your back, his blue eyes slack. “I have always wanted you to be mine. From the moment I saw you.”

This felt like a fever dream. It couldn’t possibly be real. You couldn’t possibly be this happy.

“I’ve always been yours, König, I still am. If you still want me.”

He tilted his head as he watched you, lips pulling up, and you blushed.

“What?” You asked.

“You,” he said simply, voice warm like honey, “are smiling again.”

[gamingavickreyauction]

I think people delude themselves about how effective intellectual property is. In the pure world of intellectual property you can patent a discovery and sell it for all the value it adds, or use it to make that much profit, but in reality the value of intellectual property corresponds very loosely to how much value it adds.

It's relatively easy to read a few books and write a pop history book about a topic which makes ten times as much money as what the academic history books made, even though those books may each have taken 10 times as long by more skilled workers, and amount to the vast majority of the work that went into your book. The incentive structure is clearly wrong if you want books like your pop history book to be made about more topics.

If you do basic research that leads to an important new drug being developed 20 years down the line, you will get nothing- the organisation that actually gets the patent is the one that does the last step. And many kinds of valuable research don't lead in any immediate way to a marketable product in the first place.

The reason the neoliberal argument fails here is because people are getting patents intellectual property that doesn't just capture the value they added, but all the work others put into the idea before them, which no intellectual property was awarded for. So there is a huge incentivise to focus on the last mile, the marketable part, to the neglect of everything else, even though that's most likely to be the part that anyone could have done.

The neoliberal might reply that this is actually a problem of incomplete property rights- the neoliberal's model works if the basic research was patentable too, so that the person who brings it to market pays for the basic research, gets paid the value of the market product, and pockets the difference- the value they added. But the reason that isn't done is that a world like that would be unlivable. It would be impossible to get any research done because the web of how ideas feed into each other isn't simple, and the negotiation of how much to pay for each idea would be arduous. This is why patents cannot work in the 'ideal' way they do in economic models, and why they will inevitably have this serious flaw in the real world.

The neoliberal might argue that this is a problem solved by universities- universities can do the basic research, which becomes commons, and the researchers are paid salaries because paying them based on their value added would be impossible, and the applied research is done by businesses, who are paid their value added, because it's close enough to the market that that is possible. Aside from neoliberals cutting universities, the problem with this is that it allows private companies to capture the value of research done by universities if there are only a few ways to apply that research effectively. If a company uses X basic research to make Y product, and there are no profitable alternative ways to apply X to make a competitor product, the company hasn't just been given a monopoly on Y, they've been given a monopoly on X- they have captured a piece of the commons, created by a university researcher for the good of everyone, and they're extracting rent from it. This also creates a strong incentive for reinventing the wheel, because if you can turn X into Y in a way different enough to fall outside of that patent, you get half of that economic rent.

Additionally there is no clear delineation between basic and applied research, so there is a balance that must be struck between not letting things too basic be patented, as that would be devastating to all the research that might build on it, while allowing applied research to be patented. But it is difficult to tell early on how far an idea could be taken, and patent assessors are generally not well placed to do that, so it is easy for them to hamstring any attempts to build upon a crucial idea for the duration of the patent- 20 years in the UK. Potentially this creates an incentive to veer away from more basic lines of inquiry.

And there is no such thing as a terminal creation, that there is no point in trying to improve, so counting research as applied and giving a patent is still cutting off the possibility of future improvements being made for 20 years, except by people at that company. This is particularly devastating with arts and writing, where works want to iterate on each other rapidly. Maybe someone made some important discovery, but they're a bad writer, so you want to rewrite their article so that people will actually read it, but you can't do so because that would undermine the incentive to read the original article, the copyright of which is owned by the publisher, so it's illegal- and has to be for the intellectual property regime to function, stifling the spread of ideas.

This capturing of value added by others isn't the only problem. Monopolies are an inefficient way for industries to be organised, leading to higher prices, so less sales, meaning less people are able to actually make use of the innovations, both applied and basic. The number of people who can access a drug is slashed to make sure the value from those who do access the drug can be captured by the market. But even when there are several variations of a product, patented by different companies, this creates the same problem, because of fixed costs- the companies have to charge above the marginal cost to make back their investment, reducing the number of people who can access the product. And this is a drastic effect when the marginal cost is often near zero.

This of course exacerbates inequality, and means that there is a strong incentive to create innovations that are aimed at the affluent, not the poor. Invent Ozempic, not a cure for malaria.

And finally there's the problem of the institutional structure actual people are innovating under. In theory everyone is a lone inventor-entrepreneur who chooses what they research and gets paid by their results, and aims to maximise profit. But really people are employed by a corporation, and when they discover something the shareholders capture most of the value, not them, so after this elaborate, expensive, destructive system to create a financial incentive for innovation, a tiny fraction of it gets passed on to the actual innovators, in the form of increased chance of a promotion or pay rise. And yet the innovations still get made, so clearly this is enough, or people are motivated by the desire to make the world a better place, not just money. Either way the patent system we have is patently excessive.

And if you aren't a researcher at an existing company and you want to get any money at all for your discovery, you're going to have to found a company yourself to extract the surplus- an arduous task, and one that you might not be any good at, and that in any case will take you away from making further discoveries. To be rewarded as an engineer you must remake yourself as an entrepreneur, or accept that someone else is going to take most of your reward. And it may be half your lifetime before you get that reward.

There are additional problems with access to educational resources, incentives for black/grey markets, deadweight loss from litigation, etc. but this is more than enough to show intellectual property is very inefficient at incentivising innovation. So when alternative models are also criticised for being flawed, economically inefficient that shouldn't kill those alternatives- because it would take a lot for them to be as flawed as the existing system.

A panel of experts awarding a payment for a discovery might get its value drastically wrong- but so might investors buying a start up, so might an unwilling, untalented entrepreneur failing to price their product correctly and losing money from their creation. And at least they can go on inventing/writing/innovating instead of changing careers, and the valuation will be based on opinions of people who know what they're talking about, and based on the value of their innovation to everyone, not just the wealthy. There might be political pressure to reduce the value of payments, but there's also political pressure to cut university funding- at least it would mean there is some connection between output and compensation for university researchers, and there isn't an incentive gradient driving people out of basic research and into applied research, and at least all of the value of the payment would be going to the actual innovator.

[moonstruckme]

hey sooooo I have a fic request for u babe! What about reader with Remus and it's like the first time she's sleeping over and she unexpectedly gets her period and she's like sorry I ruined our night I can go home and Remus is just like what?? No stay and just him soothing her through the cramps

Thank you for your request ml!

cw: period pains, mention of blood, brief allusion to mdni activities (though they truly could just have been making out if you want)

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 960 words

It’s rare, this early in your relationship, that you and Remus can sit down to watch a film and actually watch it. But it seems you’re both thoroughly spent from partaking in those other activities so frequently during the day, and now you’re both just winding down for the night, waiting to see who will admit to wanting to go to bed first. 

Remus is just as content with this, your arm pressed against his and your head heavy on his shoulder, feeling your ribs expand and contract with relaxed breaths. He could get used to having you here. It’s taking more restraint than he could have imagined to keep himself from just offering you his spare key and begging you to come and go as you please. 

“Oh, shit.” 

It’s a whisper, not particularly alarmed, but the way your muscles go stiff tells Remus it’s not nothing. You sit up, taking your weight off of him. 

“What is it?” he asks. 

You don’t answer him at first, squeezing your eyes shut. Your expression is one of unmistakable mortification. You look agonized. Remus tries to let you have the time you need to think, but a worm of unease eats further into his gut with every second of your silence. 

You push out an exhale that sounds laborious. When you open your eyes, there’s enough apology in them for a capital crime. Remus thinks that he’d probably forgive you if you told him you’d committed murder (and maybe that should scare him more than it does). 

“I think I’ve just stained your couch,” you admit. 

“Okay,” he says slowly. He doesn’t see the cause for such distress, but he also isn’t sure what you’re talking about. You’re not holding a drink, so how could you…oh. “Oh, is that all?” 

His nonplussed reaction doesn’t seem to affect your unease. “I’m so sorry,” you say, wincing. 

Remus tuts. “Don’t be, you can’t help it. Do you have anything with you, or do I need to nip to the store?” 

“I’ve got stuff.” You stand to get your bag, turning to grimace at where you’d been sitting on the couch. 

Remus’ reaction skews in the opposite direction. It’s only a splotch; by your response he’d been half convinced you were sitting in a veritable puddle of blood. 

“I’m so sorry,” you say again. “I’ll be right back.” 

“You’re alright, love,” Remus promises you. “Take whatever time you need.” 

While you’re in the bathroom, he addresses the stain. Truly, it’s no great hassle. With friends like his it’s hardly the first trial his couch has faced, and besides that Remus has an unusual amount of experience with getting blood out of things. 

It’s soaking when you come back, a small rag covering the spot from your view. You’ve changed into your pajamas, presumably because you’d stained your pants as well, but this is far from an unwelcome development. You look terribly cuddly. 

“You alright?” Remus asks as you come back to stand by the couch. 

“Yeah,” you say, somewhat quietly. You seem suddenly timid, like a guest in his home. He wants to hug you. 

“Does it hurt?” he presses. 

Your mouth pulls to the side, which is answer enough. “A little. It’s been hurting for a while, I just didn’t recognize it for what it was. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting it this early.” 

“Oh, sweetheart.” He reaches for you, hiding his disappointment when you only put your hand in his. “That’s not a very nice surprise, is it?” 

“No,” you agree with a halfhearted smile. When Remus squeezes your fingers, you squeeze back, and you at least seem up to holding his gaze even if you still look sheepish. “I’m sorry to ruin our night. I can go home.” 

“What?” A bit of hurt bullies its way into Remus’ tone. Your expression changes like you’re surprised to hear it. “No, I think you should stay.” 

You look hesitant, so he tries again, gentler this time. 

“I mean, if you’re hurting and you want to be in your own home, I understand,” Remus says, “but I hope you’re not leaving on my account. I’d like for you to be here.” 

You watch his face as though looking for discrepancies. “Really?” 

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he says earnestly. “Of course I’d love to keep you. Getting your period doesn’t change anything, except that now you’re in pain and I’d like even more for you to stay so I can be with you.” 

The muscles around your eyes relax, your expression softening into something so tender Remus feels his own heart turn to mush. 

He gives your hand a little tug, and you take the cue, sitting back down on the couch between his open legs. 

“Can I put my hand here?” he asks you, touching your stomach. 

“Sure,” you say, still somewhat timidly. You take his hand in yours, moving it down a couple inches until his fingers are skimming the soft fabric of your pajama bottoms. “But it’s more like here.” 

“Oh, okay. Can I put my hand there?” 

With your nod, Remus slips his hand beneath your waistband, to that plush stretch of skin between your belly button and your panty line. He presses down gently. 

“Oh.” Your body goes lax. 

Remus chuckles, dropping his head to kiss your shoulder. “That helps?” 

“Yeah,” you sigh contentedly. “A lot, actually. Thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it.” He pushes on a tense spot experimentally, rewarded when you sink further into his front. “Just don’t try to run out on me the next time something like this comes up, yeah?” 

You agree readily. “Mhm. I wouldn’t have, if I’d known this was going to happen.” 

Remus smudges another kiss onto your shoulder, smug. “Just remember this then, I suppose.” 

[onlyswan]

summary: in which there is never enough time to be in love but jungkook is a 24/7 lover. (part one)

idol!jk x afab!reader / fluffy fluff with a dash of angst / word count: 3.6k

warnings/content: jungkook takes a day off and surprises oc <3 ; he's veryyy touchy; he gives oc's boobie a lil bite lol this guy ; s*xual innuendos; one (1) spank; oc comforts him :(; bam is home too!!; family is complete

→ in which masterlist!

note: smth short and sweet so i can recover from dreamboat loool missed my babies sm <3 as always reblog and/or feedback is very much appreciated! <3

p.s. i'm also redoing my iw taglist so pls comment/send an ask if you want to be (re)/added!

—

“baby? i’m home.”

you’re confident to say that you’d never mistake jungkook’s voice for anyone else’s. and on that note, you must be dreaming of him— the voice of an angel, the calloused palms cupping your cheeks… the audible and damp kisses delicately being peppered all over your face. everything feels so real. too real. just like how it used to be.

it hasn’t been long since you last saw him. you communicate and meet whenever it’s possible, no matter how short the time he is allowed to dedicate. still, you miss him all the time, everyday. you keep telling yourself it’s not that bad. time is passing by faster than you feared. but this whole set-up is foreign and daunting. and you miss him. you miss him all the time. that must be why you’re dreaming. 

when you open your eyes in the morning, you’ve come to expect nothing more than the view of the plain white ceiling, or the sunlight peeking from behind the curtains. 

so why are you gawking at jungkook’s face?

he smiles from ear-to-ear, bunny teeth and crinkles around his eyes— you can’t be mistaken. it’s him. it feels as though your heart has been shocked and revived. 

“jungkook!” you gasp.

you startle your own self when you abruptly throw your arms around him. he tries to hold you up, but you’re far too ecstatic for your own good, inexplicable joy thrumming in your veins and fireworks bursting in your ribcage. you squeal and jump up and down on the bed like a little kid on christmas morning; jungkook hugs you back tighter than he has ever done before, protecting you from the fall and crash.

“oh my god, you’re here! you’re here!”

“yes, i’m here-” he laughs in amusement. “ow shit, settle down- wow, it’s so early. why are you so energetic-”

“i missed you!” you briefly pause for oxygen. “so much! i’m never letting go of you again!” 

“wow!” he makes a dramatic wheezing sound. “that much, baby? you missed me that much?” 

“that much!” 

you draw back with a pout, just enough so you can look at each other, nodding your head probably too fast— you’re almost dizzy. adrenaline tide calming into waves, you’re catching your breath.

are you certain that this is not your imagination playing tricks on you?

“you’re here…” you slowly say. it’s only registering to your whiplashed brain. there is barely any feeling in your arms as you touch his face, an attempt at separating wishful thinking and reality. “why are you here?”

“why else?” he grins toothily. “because you said you were missing me.” 

your attempt at forming words is rudely interrupted. he steals a kiss, this thief… hard and hungry, keeping you in place by his palm cradling the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair. 

he pulls away with a satisfied hum, tongue darting out to swipe over his lips. “and because i was missing you more.” 

for a moment, you gaze at each other in silence. you’re still neck deep in disbelief and euphoria. that kiss took your breath away. under the circumstances, you shall yield and admit that he misses you more. he requests for developed photos of you when you come visit. that’s something you never imagined you’d have to do. 

he tries to tame your messy hair, smoothing it down until he’s holding your cheeks lovingly. “i mean, what else was i supposed to do? i miss waking up to this pretty face everyday.” 

you pucker your lips in response, demanding for a kiss. this earns a chuckle from him before he grants your wish. an unintelligible noise of joy escapes your mouth as you jump and hug him again. it is shortly followed by a yelp when he whisks you off the bed without warning, spinning you ‘round and ‘round… ‘round… and ‘round… and…

your laughter soon transforms into horror. 

“jungkook!” you scream with your eyes squeezed shut and your legs curled around his waist. “okay! stop it! i’m getting dizzy!” 

the crazy bastard keeps on giggling as if he doesn’t hear a thing. you always expect these reunions to be so emotional, but when jungkook is here, it feels as though he never left.  

“jungkook!” 

you hook your leg around his, causing the two of you to collapse on the soft mattress. you land on top of him with a whimper. you breathe out a sigh, relieved that the nausea-inducing ride is over.

“that was fun.” he speaks next to your ear; the sensation makes you squirm. 

“it was,” you push yourself up to search for more air, a little sweaty after yours and jungkook’s hyperness took control of your bodies. “for the first five seconds.” 

you’re now properly straddling him, ass on his crotch. it’s accidental, but nothing new. nay, comfortable. this level of proximity won’t feel like intimacy with somebody else. goddamn, you missed your boyfriend so much. 

a big, sleepy yawn zaps your attention from him. you cover your face with both hands, wandering into the darkness for a little while. you find that your mind is devoid of any thought. perhaps you’re more overwhelmed than you let on. 

“missed this view too…” he reveals amidst the haze, a distinct change in the tone of his voice. 

there they are— the butterflies in his stomach, slaves to you and only you. he breathes through his parted lips as he caresses your thighs with tenderness bleeding from his fingertips, your skin so smooth and soft in contrast to his calloused palms. his lips curve into a drunken smile when you graze his greedy hands, as though granting them permission, before they slip inside the magenta velvet of your night dress. the material bunches over his forearms as he reaches for your hips. it leaves almost nothing to the imagination (in his case: memory). his attention is stolen by your cotton panties. light taupe. decorated by white polka dots. 

“this one’s new.” he comments.

you peer down to figure out what he meant. right, he’s never seen this before. “surprise! you like it?”

“yes, it’s cute.” he toys with the little ribbon at the center of the waistband. “you rarely get this color.”

“thanks. i think my taste is changing.”

“really?”

“mhmm…” 

his hands venture up to your waist, kneading at the flesh and reacquainting with the feel of you. he’s been pissed off at the thought of forgetting what it feels like to touch you, knowing your body like the back of his hand. he hasn’t been away from you for extended periods of time since their last tour. that was years ago. 

for maximum comfort, he sits up and pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor. “let’s move here.” he carries you with him, back comfortable leaning against the headboard, while you remain sitting pretty on his lap. “bam was sleeping on my side of the bed when i arrived.”

“huh…?” you blink. 

“you didn’t know?”

you shake your head innocently, a tad distracted by your eyes roaming his naked torso. he looks absolutely ravishing as ever. did something already change from the last time you saw him? 

“i tucked him into his bed last night.”

you visited bam at the training facility after work yesterday, but he kept trying to follow you as you were leaving. your fragile heart caved and you brought him home for the weekend. you texted jungkook about it but he didn’t respond; as much as that made you sad, you figured he was just tired or he used his phone time to talk to his family. 

you spent the whole night playing with bam and watching his favorite dog entertainment channel on youtube. the house wasn’t dead silent for once. you fell asleep together on the couch until you woke up at 2am and tucked him and yourself into your respective beds. it was easy to fall back to sleep after, but it felt weird that you didn’t need an audiobook or hours of calming sounds of nature. 

you’re not whining. there have been a lot of sunny and happy days. you have wonderful people in your life who act as your support system in their own unique ways, but jungkook and bam… they’re your family. you made your peace with no longer having one, but now that you’ve built your own, having to be apart from them makes your heart ache. 

“did he sneak in to sleep next to you? he does that now?” he makes a surprised face. “what’s this? i’m so jealous of him!”

a pinch in your heart. 

you try your best to conceal a frown, but your poor choice of words paints your disappointment. “you’re not-” you avoid his eyes. “staying the night?”

“yah, you don’t have to look so sad. i can stay, baby.”

“you can?” your face lights up. 

“for you, i’ll make it happen.” he cheeses, affectionately tapping the tip of your nose like it’s a button to make you smile. “i’m only working hard in there to earn more days off, you know that?”

that makes you frown.

“babe, don’t do that…” you whine, shaking his shoulders. “you don’t need to work so hard. only do what is required of you. i just want you to be healthy.”

“no… just let me.” he replies with finality. “i need… i need a reason. you’re the reason why i’m still hanging in there, and i don’t want to miss another anniversary.” 

he bats his eyelashes. 

“being your boyfriend is my favorite job in the whole world.”

and how are you supposed to argue with one of his most heart-fluttering, most wholesome lines yet? 

you sigh in defeat. “then you can rest when you’re with me.” 

“i love you.”

“i love you, too.” 

you lean in to kiss him, but are interrupted when he yawns. your forehead ends up resting against his as you giggle uncontrollably at the unexpected and hilarious view of his open mouth. 

“sleepy?”

he bows his head in embarrassment, body vibrating with laughter. “i couldn’t sleep because i was so excited. i wanted to talk to you last night but i was so sure i’d spoil the surprise.” 

“of course you couldn’t.” you giggle, removing yourself from his lap while tugging at the collar of his shirt. “come here. let’s sleep some more.”

you lie down on the bed facing each other. jungkook moans in contentment as you engulf him in your embrace, nuzzling his face against your chest. he can smell your body wash, sweet and clean. that— that isn’t new. every muscle in his body decompresses. he needed this, needed you. desperately. tremendously. you pull the thick and warm blanket over yourselves and he melts. while he wishes he was taller, he knows he is still of considerable height. he’s been bulking up, getting stronger than before too. but he doesn’t give a fuck about those at the moment. he’s not even aware. his body fits perfectly with yours— that’s all he knows. oh… he’s melting. but it doesn’t feel like he’s being reduced. he has everything to gain. this is heaven on earth.

he opens his eyes into an awful squint, faced by your cleavage spilling out from the neckline of your night dress. there’s this urge he can’t ignore. it’s not spelt out in his mind, he rather feels like his body is having a fit. next thing he knows, he’s carefully sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of the swell of your boob. he stays still for a few seconds, and then pulls away once he deems himself satisfied. he wipes your skin with his thumb incase he left some saliva, innocent eyes peeking up at you huffing out a quiet laugh. 

“you sure that’s all you needed?”

“i’ll devour you later.” he smirks, blinking sluggishly. “i’m tired but just you wait. i’ll go all night!”

“not if i beat you to it…” you tease, having plans of your own. you want to make him feel good. you’ve been going insane thinking about it. “missed you.”

“alright then, let’s do it at the same time.” he says suggestively. 

“you know i have a hard time focusing when we do that.” you huff.

“eh, so? not me.” he chuckles. “i think you do a really great job, though?”

“…still! go easy on me a little bit so i can do better.”

“it’s not a competition, baby.” he squeezes your waist affectionately. “plus, i don’t think i’d be able to control myself once i get a taste.”

“jungkook!” you whine, growing flustered. 

he laughs out loud, giving your ass a quick spank that resounds through the walls of the bedroom. 

it becomes silent again after that.

the tip of your nails graze his scalp with repeated movements, more so for your amusement, but he is practically purring. you can’t imagine your arm being a comfortable pillow either, but he is doing great at making it appear so.

“i realized something.”

“what is it?”

“i really can’t live without you.” he confesses earnestly, then looks up at you with raised eyebrows. “don’t say anything. i know you’ll say something like ‘yes, you can!’”

“i was not. i liked hearing you say it.” you stifle a giggle. “but i’m not going anywhere. you know that.”

“i don’t doubt that.” he sighs with a heavy chest. “sometimes i just get a bit worried that you’d get tired of waiting.” 

this isn’t the first time in your relationship that he’s voicing out this fear, but the difference between then and now is stark. with the disconnection, there was a part of you that expected it to resurface. 

“babe,” you gently tilt up his face, locking your sincere and love-filled eyes with his. “we’re okay. i’ve loved you since i was 18. this? this is nothing. you’re a part of me, so you’re always with me. and i know you keep me with you too.”

you wear a brave face. you hope that he believes your words as much as you do, because no matter how many boulders the universe throws down your path, all you ever think about is how you and jungkook will surmount them. together. he is your partner after all.

“we’ll get through it like we always do, baby boy.”

jungkook nods and smiles, doe eyes glittering. you love making that happen. “sorry, i think i scared myself when i read stories on the internet.” 

“our story is different!”

the two of you burst into a fit of giggles.

“no, seriously-” he cackles, a little breathless.

“we’re one of a kind!” you keep the joke running. you want to keep making him laugh, even if it’s only for a few seconds longer. 

“we’ve gone through so much bullshit. not everyone would fight as hard as we did!” jungkook passionately agrees with the same intensity. “you’re right, we always make it work. we’ll get through it like we always do.”

“trust me,” you charmingly implore him. “when was i ever wrong?”

“never!” he immediately shakes his head. “…atleast not about the things that matter.”

“okay,” you shrug. “i’ll take it.”

“goodnight kiss, please.” he cutely pleads.

wild guess: he went home to be babied. not that you’re complaining. this is miles better than having to wrestle him over who gets to be the big spoon. you love giving love. when your heart stops beating, it would be great to celebrate how much you were loved, but you also wish to be remembered as a person who gave love until their last breath. 

“goodnight, my love.” you coo, well aware that the sun has risen. 

you plant a tender kiss on his forehead. the complaint bubbling in his throat is swallowed when you lean in closer to reach his lips. with his wish fulfilled, he flutters his eyes closed and snuggles as close to you as possible, real and proper rest finally within his grasp. he basks in your warmth and the tranquilizing silence— his breathing steady and his heart at its calmest. beautiful things enter his mind. you are the sun on the first spring day; the clouds that go with him no matter the distance; the waves that kiss the shore and never fail to come back. he heals in places he didn’t know he was hurting. 

“hold on, where is bam then?”

“his house. i gave him some treats then he slept again…” his voice comes out muffled. he sniffles jokingly. “the reaction was kind of underwhelming. i think he didn’t miss me as much.” 

“of course he’d choose that over a human.”

“i bribed him too early.” he laments.

“wait…” he feels you come to a still. “i think he’s coming.”

he opens his eyes and copies you in focusing on the familiar sound of bam’s paws clicking against the floor. the mattress quakes and he lifts his head to find the dog climbing over your bodies. 

he’s seriously a large and tall dog. 

“bam, what are you doing here?!” 

bam tilts his head and stares back at jungkook, tail wagging as his dad laughs and pets him on the head down to his back. 

“he’s so adorable.” you squeal quietly, joining in and scratching under his chin. “i love you, bam.” 

bam’s eyes switch to you. he slowly lowers his head, giving your hand a tentative lick as if to show appreciation but he’s also worried that it would prompt you to stop.

“he’s gotten real heavy, huh?”

“he’s got some big muscles like you.”

“of course! he got it from me.”

jungkook’s proud smile drops a little. it morphs into pure fondness once bam starts sniffing at him. he yelps and dramatically falls back, wiping his wet cheek with the back of his hand, but it’s game over once bam pants with excitement. bam chases his face to attack him with his love language. 

you watch the scene from the sidelines, laughing so hard that your sides are beginning to hurt. you wish you were recording. you wish that you never forget this. 

“okay, okay! you’re happy to see me! i see that now!” jungkook laughs, squeezing bam in a tight hug for a moment. 

the dog still refuses to relent, however. they almost look like they’re fighting to the death but the truth is they’re just smothering each other with affection. unbeknownst to them, you make a pained face when one of them accidentally hits your arm multiple times. nevermind, they were definitely both culprits. 

“____! save me!” your boyfriend cries out.

he bulldozes through bam and shoves himself into the tiny space he previously, and peacefully, occupied minutes before. he’s squeezing you so tight, nearly crushing you as he laughs with tears in his eyes. they affectionately call it his elmo laugh, the fans, which you adore just as much. 

you see it before you hear it. bam makes that face when he’s about to bark. your hush comes out at the same exact second as his barking. 

“this is so chaotic!” you try to project your voice louder than everybody else’s. 

jungkook’s laughs quieter but harder, if that makes any sense. 

you have an arm around jungkook that holds him taut and protected, while the other is busy with getting bam to settle down. you slide your palm across his fur in repeated motions, focusing on the spots that cause his eyes to flutter in relaxation.

“shhh, bam. it’s still too early. let daddy rest first. we can tire him out again later, okay?”

he settles on top of your bodies again. he has stopped moving around, but then he makes that face again, and you really love your healthy sense of hearing. 

“behave, bam-” you playfully squeeze his cheeks together before scratching under his chin. “my cutie bam. you can do that for me, right? you’re a good boy! i’m sure you understand.”

he abandons the urge to bark, suddenly fixing his position so you can also scratch at his chest. you almost snort at how funny he looked obeying you on accident because he is begging to be petted.

“that’s right. good job, bam.” you coo, sending him a pleased smile. “you’re so smart. you listen so well.” 

you whisper to jungkook. “it’s so cute when it looks like he really understands what i’m saying.”

“it’s the way you talk to him.” he answers quietly, placing tiny kisses along your collarbone. “you’re so sweet.” he almost forgot how good you are with bam. he just fell in love with you all over again. 

“but it’d be cooler if he does understand me.” you hum, moving your hand on bam’s head. he finally decides to flop down then. he rests his head over your waist, eyes seemingly inching closer to sleepiness. you sigh in relief. “go to sleep too, baby.”

jungkook breaks the silence a moment later.

“…did you mean me or bam?”

“you!” you chuckle. 

“oh-” he laughs at his own foolishness. his arm that is supposed to be hooked around your waist rests over bam’s body instead. he ruffles the dog’s fur softly. “let’s all go to sleep.”

you let out a yawn in response to that. you sniffle, murmuring tiredly. “i love you, baby… your surprise made me so happy. i’ll make it up to you too.”

“i love you more…”

jungkook lifts his head and finds that you have closed your eyes. your chest rises and falls in a calm rhythm. bam is closely following you into dreamland. 

heavens, what he wouldn’t give so he could stay here forever and never leave again. 

his eyes are heavy with exhaustion, hot with sleepy tears, but he fights his own body to stay awake. with all his might, he gazes in awe at the beauty of a life with you. he wants to always remember what is waiting for him at home.

[fishnapple]

What new skill should you learn

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

CARNELIAN

The most prominent one that I get is public speaking skills. Your usual way of speaking might not get you enough attention when you are in front of a crowd or talking to a large audience, even online one. May be your voice is too soft or sounds quite young or bubbly, or you don't like to share too much about yourself, your opinions. It can make you seem more approachable, but in situations that you need to assert yourself, to be taken seriously, then it can become a disadvantage. And when you are in those situations, you might over compensate by being defensive or rigid, trying to assert yourself more than necessary.

You need to develop a firmer tone, and the words you say, your body language should also convey a sense of authority. But it's not a battle for power and domination, you just need to make yourself more visible, to make your energy more solid and grounded. This will help you in situations that require exchanging ideas in a large group, delivering your message to many people, rallying, persuading, teaching, or simply telling a story.

Research more about social skills in a group setting, observe the people that you feel are popular or well respected, observe their body language, their posture, their tones in different kinds of conversations, their choices of words, their silence, etc. This may sound mechanical but if you treat this skill just like math or painting, instead of thinking that social skill is something innate, you will see that with appropriate observations and enough practice, you can achieve a certain level of proficiency. This will open more opportunities for you and raise your confidence.

CLEAR QUARTZ

The stone of Pluto, South node and North node, all are "standing up", they are trying to make a statement (each side of the crystal is very narrow, it can fall over with just a gust of wind, I normally couldn't replicate the same position). The theme is about changing the old and embracing a new mindset. I think it has to do with how you take care of your appearance, your style.

Right now, you seem to be staying in the safe zone when it comes to styling yourself, making yourself more beautiful. This might be due to restrictions in early childhood, traditional values, what society deems appropriate or trendy. You might not want to focus too much on appearance because it seems superficial or vain, or takes too much of your time and energy.

But doing so will rope you the chance to express yourself more truthfully. Beautify yourself not because of how you will be perceived, but because it's a way to show love for yourself. You look into a mirror, you feel happy, you want to compliment yourself, you feel that silly stray strand of hair is adorable, not thinking about how will everyone say, how you are not like someone.

So the advice for you here is to be more adventurous in styling, expand your knowledge about fashion and styling, explore yourself more , give yourself the freedom to experiment more, to rebel more. Creating a unique image, a "public persona" is not just for some celebrities, everyone can benefit from that. Because behind that seemingly surface action, is the journey of discovering your deeper self. As within so without.

The theme of transformation is also applied to learning new languages. The languages should be totally different from your mother tongue, giving you more chance to connect with people from various parts of the world.

OBSIDIAN

The phrase "navigating the world" appeared in my mind. I got several meanings from this. One is in the literal sense as driving a vehicle, going around, navigating the roads, so learning to drive a new kind of vehicle might be the skill you should learn, or even learn to swim or row a boat. There are lots of movements, travelling and moving around. You should be more active in the physical sense. But this is not really about exercise or going to the gym, it's about moving your body, being in various places, experiencing different things. Your life in this period needs lots of expansion and movements. You might feel that you don't have enough resources or energy to go on trips, or you're simply someone who doesn't like travelling. But it will make your life stagnant. Travelling might not seem like a skill, but it is, all the planning, packing, preparation and the ability to adapt to the new place, all or these take skills.

Another one is navigating the complicated social construct. Maybe you feel it's hard to connect to people, there might be walls and the feeling of solitude and not fitting in, that there is something fundamentally different about you. The people that you managed to get closer to (it's likely that they approached you first) will stay close to you for a long time, you have no trouble maintaining a connection. The trouble lies in initiating or forming the connection. There might be an ego here that doesn't want to show their vulnerable side. Silly jokes and banters might seem childish to you. But learning to have fun in a social setting is much more rewarding than you think. Allow yourself to be a child, learn how to tell a story. Debating skills might also be worthwhile for you to learn, learn how to state your opinions clearly and defend your stance.

This group is strangely hard to read, I feel a certain resistance. You might feel that your personality isn't suitable for these kinds of things or you think it would take too much effort and work. You also don't want to imitate what other people are doing. Another reason might be that you haven't figured out what you like to do yet. But that's okay, everything takes time, trials and errors are normal, don't give up on the first try.

TIGER'S EYE

This one is an anti-consumerism movement. You might want to learn how to mend and sew clothes. And not just learn for yourself, but later will you spread the awareness to everyone, or even open workshops related to this.

Running after trends, constantly being bombarded by ads about shiny things that we don't actually need. Basic clothes with good quality cost too much while trendy ones don't last for more than a year. Maybe it's time for you to take matters in your own hands. Learning how to sew clothes might take time and effort, and sometimes, the cost is not small either. But you will be more free to explore styles that you like, create things that you're actually comfortable in. Not many people can proudly display their achievements like someone who makes their own clothes. This is also a great activity to relieve stress and help you practice being patient, especially if you're someone who is quick to get irritated or not very meticulous. It can soften your energy more and make it more focused.

Another way to practice is martial art or self-defense. You have lots of energy that needs to be channelled into various activities, those that keep your body busy.

You might also want to research more about the traditional spiritual and occult practices of your culture, or some traditional crafts in your family, learning about the legacy of our ancestors. There will be surprising knowledge hidden in them that you didn't notice before. You could feel resistant or disagree with many traditional teachings but don't disregard them completely. We can always learn something new from the old and the new always contain the old.

LABRADORITE

This is something that you feel out of your depth and uncomfortable doing, or something that you like but want to keep it a secret, for fear of judgement or obstruction.

I heard dancing and singing. But there's a feeling of gatekeeping. Some people consider these kinds of activities only for those who are gifted and have the resources to pursue them. These skills are put on a pedestal that stops people from approaching them in a more casual way.

Why should you learn these skills? It's to let your inner child be free and out into the open. It's also a way to learn how to control your body, discipline it so it can flow freely, it helps you connect more with your sensuality. Our body is an instrument of life, capable of many miracles, you won't know it unless you let it interact and move with the world around it.

There are various genres for you to explore, but I see traditional instruments or movements combined with modern ones.

Nurturing life such as gardening is another skill you should learn. It helps you be more in sync with nature, you will need to observe the natural cycle of life, to care for each individual and to form a bond with them. If you don't have the space or resources for gardening, maybe try to study more about nature, subjects about biology and chemistry, the ecosystem of forests, oceans, deserts etc. You will be more appreciative of the nature world.

CITRINE

Your energy right now seems to be rigid and doesn't flow properly. There's stress about your health, it's hard to relax, you don't feel comfortable in your body. Maybe you've been too busy lately, your mind is overloaded and your movement is restricted. So you need to learn something that can help you destress, loosen up the hard restrictions around you, and connect more with a softer, more gentle energy. You could call it your feminine energy, regardless of your gender. The feminine energy is within all of us, in your case, it's more hidden. Your loving, more nurturing side could be considered as weaknesses by the people around you. Or, on the contrary, those traits are expected of you forcefully, to the point that your own interpretation of them are buried deep within, you haven't had a chance to actually understand and connect with it.

I think meditation or any form of practice that can quiet the mind and put you in the flow will be good for you. Making art could be one form of it, yoga, intuitive dancing, Qigong, roller skating. Slow, mindful movements or wild, frantic ones just like a child running around, all the while maintaining your balance. You can temporarily forget about yourself, your worries, your responsibilities for a while with these kinds of activities.

Learning to play an instrument can also achieve the same kind of effects. A flute or a lyre.

You should be around children more, learn how to take care of them, how to teach them. Working, being with children can have a totally different energy and requires a different set of skills. I think you would make a great teacher because you have a very protective energy that children would feel safe around you. And in turn, they help you soften up and bring out your compassionate side more.

[reasonsforhope]

"A team of researchers at Washington University in St. Louis has developed a real-time air monitor that can detect any of the SARS-CoV-2 virus variants that are present in a room in about 5 minutes.

The proof-of-concept device was created by researchers from the McKelvey School of Engineering and the School of Medicine at Washington University...

The results are contained in a July 10 publication in Nature Communications that provides details about how the technology works.

The device holds promise as a breakthrough that - when commercially available - could be used in hospitals and health care facilities, schools, congregate living quarters, and other public places to help detect not only the SARS-CoV-2 virus, but other respiratory virus aerosol such as influenza and respiratory syncytial virus (RSV) as well.

“There is nothing at the moment that tells us how safe a room is,” Cirrito said, in the university’s news release. “If you are in a room with 100 people, you don’t want to find out five days later whether you could be sick or not. The idea with this device is that you can know essentially in real time, or every 5 minutes, if there is a live virus in the air.”

How It Works

The team combined expertise in biosensing with knowhow in designing instruments that measure the toxicity of air. The resulting device is an air sampler that operates based on what’s called “wet cyclone technology.” Air is sucked into the sampler at very high speeds and is then mixed centrifugally with a fluid containing a nanobody that recognizes the spike protein from the SARS-CoV-2 virus. That fluid, which lines the walls of the sampler, creates a surface vortex that traps the virus aerosols. The wet cyclone sampler has a pump that collects the fluid and sends it to the biosensor for detection of the virus using electrochemistry.

The success of the instrument is linked to the extremely high velocity it generates - the monitor has a flow rate of about 1,000 liters per minute - allowing it to sample a much larger volume of air over a 5-minute collection period than what is possible with currently available commercial samplers. It’s also compact - about one foot wide and 10 inches tall - and lights up when a virus is detected, alerting users to increase airflow or circulation in the room.

Testing the Monitor

To test the monitor, the team placed it in the apartments of two Covid-positive patients. The real-time air samples from the bedrooms were then compared with air samples collected from a virus-free control room. The device detected the RNA of the virus in the air samples from the bedrooms but did not detect any in the control air samples.

In laboratory experiments that aerosolized SARS-CoV-2 into a room-sized chamber, the wet cyclone and biosensor were able to detect varying levels of airborne virus concentrations after only a few minutes of sampling, according to the study.

“We are starting with SARS-CoV-2, but there are plans to also measure influenza, RSV, rhinovirus and other top pathogens that routinely infect people,” Cirrito said. “In a hospital setting, the monitor could be used to measure for staph or strep, which cause all kinds of complications for patients. This could really have a major impact on people’s health.”

The Washington University team is now working to commercialize the air quality monitor."

-via Forbes, July 11, 2023

-

Holy shit. I know it's still early in the technology and more testing will inevitably be needed but holy shit.

Literally, if it bears out, this could revolutionize medicine. And maybe let immunocompromised people fucking go places again

Also, for those who don't know, Nature Communications is a very prestigious scientific journal that focuses on Pretty Big Deal research. Their review process is incredibly rigorous. This is an absolutely HUGE credibility boost to this research and prototype

[maybefae]

Your First Impression of Your Person

Pile 1 - Pile 2 - Pile 3

Remember, this is a general reading and it may not resonate for everyone or completely. Tarot is a tool to help guide but you are responsible for your actions and life, you choose your path.

I was leaning more towards a romantic partner that you are going to end up with that will have a significant place in your life but take it as it resonates for you.

Tips!

|Pile 1

Tarot: Eight of Swords (horizontal), Death, The High Priestess, Seven of Pentacles, Ten of Cups (horizontal), Page of Cups, Four of Pentacles, The Star (reversed), The Fool

Oracle: The Ladybug and Sweet Pea (happiness), The Chipmunk and Laurel (success), The Otter and Cattail (peace)

This person is someone that your soul has been letting you know was coming with certain signs or messages. And this could be someone you wished for, but there is a strong sense that this person was just meant to come into your life. It’s like you wished for this person and didn’t know that they were gonna come in whether you wished for them or not. I believe fate and freewill coincide together and this is one of those grey areas. 

Your person comes in either when a new chapter starts for you or this person comes in and triggers it. Whichever this new chapter is happening, there is a feeling of uncertainty and pessimistic caution - as if trust had been bruised. You almost feel like a wolf backed into a corner and someone is encroaching on your space and you’re trying to decide if they are safe or if you need to bite your way out of a situation. I don’t know if the new chapter has left you feeling a little vulnerable or if you did your little spells (writing down your persons characteristics, a letter from their POV of you, or moodboards), but it took longer than you expected so you developed a resentment of some kind. You’re skeptical of them. It’s like a “oh, now you decide to show up when I don’t want you anymore.” But you know that you still do but your own expectations have hurt you. Your person has done nothing to you.

In fact, you decide to give them a singular cup with caution to see if they can fill it because you still want them. You’re treading lightly and they realize this. They genuinely want to offer you ten full cups and you realize that quickly with how much they bring to the table. They do bring you a lot of happiness and peace, which their entrance into your life probably wasn’t anything grand. Their peaceful stroll into your life probably made you skeptical as well as angry. “But they are what you need(ed).” You probably expected something dramatic because of past people or situations and when you didn’t get that from your person, it felt unsafe. You may have some doubts and think “this wasn’t what I wished for.” But it was, deep down it was. And your wishes were a success.

I think you will be very emotional after dropping the wall finally. I think they will do something that will show you that they love you early on and it will make your walls instantly fall. There’s a feeling of guilt for being so resentful and angry towards your person and you may not know how to forgive yourself. But just know, your person says that you have nothing to be sorry for. There could be a moment when you decide to tell them this and your tears will be dried by them.

|Pile 2

Tarot: The Hierophant, The Hanged Man, Nine of Pentacles, Nine of Swords, The Empress, Ace of Wands, The Lovers, Four of Wands, The Star

Oracle:  The Eel and Iris (safety), The Boar and Pumpkin (confidence), The Snake and Fern (starting over), The Skunk and Magnolia (protection)

Before I pull the cards, I ended up shuffling face up for a moment. Your person may show you all their cards upfront so you know what they want, their boundaries, and their feelings towards you. There isn’t any pussy-footing around feelings and playing games. They are too grown for that and they take love and relationships very seriously. I had to go back and pull an oracle card I say while resetting the deck and it was The Eel and Iris card which represents safety in this deck. There are two messages here. They will leave if they don’t think you are safe. They are slimy in the way of being able to get away if you start to play with their heart, not that they are a player and wiggle in and out of your life. Absolutely not. And they offer you and your heart a lot of safety by presenting all their cards to you right away. They don’t play games. If it’s important, Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls could hold significance.  - Just from getting all these messages without pulling any cards, or just from this one oracle card, I have a very strong feeling about this message. They get to business in a very determined and sure-footed way. They are dependable.

Now that I pulled the cards, my top messages are correct. You will find their confidence very attractive because it doesn’t come off in a cocky way. Their confidence comes off just in a sure and stable way. They made it very clear to you that they find you “absolutely breathtaking” as soon as they got to talk to you (and in the same moment, they ask you on a date and your NUMBER, not your social media.) I think they will also be very attractive and not someone you expect to be attracted to you. They are very successful -  everything else in their life is in line but they don’t have a lover. They are very picky so you should feel lucky they chose you. They are looking for commitment, something serious. For some this could be marriage but if you don’t like that idea, make that clear right away because they will like how you’re sure of your wants. They will respect it, especially if you make it abundantly clear that you want something committed and long term outside of legal bindings. 

There is a lot of sexual tension in this pile. And there is a very wealthy energy coming off the both of you, especially with how formal I felt writing this. It was like I was writing a contract. 

I think that they will also let you know pretty early on that this could be a start over for them and they are giving love one more try before giving up. Maybe they could’ve given up before hand but you two got sexually involved and it led to them giving the both of you a shot. With them laying their cards on the table and you laying down yours, it creates a very stable foundation for the both of you to grow off of. This feels like a very mature energy, maybe 30s? There is a feeling of creating some sort of foundation for yourself, even it you could just be starting your foundation then.

|Pile 3

Tarot: Three of Swords, The Hierophant, Ace of Wands, Judgement, Knight of Wands, Queen of Cups, The Hermit, Nine of Cups, Temperance, Strength

Oracle: The Wolf and Rose Hip (guardianship), The Vulture and Asphodel (upheaval), The Sheep and Blackberry (devotion)

The Three of Swords instantly jumped out when I started shuffling. And before I started, the knight of cups was at the bottom…I believe your person wanted to bring your own heartbreak to light first and foremost. I don’t believe this card is part of your impression of them. This feels like a combination of their opinion of you combined with what you think of them. There’s a deep feeling of heartbreak from you but I don’t think you’ve given up on love, you really just want to finally meet the person you’ll spend your life with. The love of your life. This pile isn’t for someone seeking something temporary.

Pile 3, your person is the love of your life. They truly love you and I think that is why they wanted me to talk about you first. They come in very protectively, a wolf guarding their sheep. It’s not that you’re fragile but they have a good understanding that you are sensitive and a soft soul, which brings out their protective side. I think you welcome it because there is a feeling of instant safety you get from this person, like finally finding shelter to stand under while the rain clouds clear up. They instantly light up the passion you had for love again because they come in with the same passion, which isn’t inherently sexual either. This passion comes from a place of safety and comfort from each other, it’s like finally experiencing a love that isn’t so intense. Puppy love…maybe love that is usually experienced when you’re younger. There is a sense of them bringing back light-hearted fun, that love doesn’t have to be so taxing on your soul (and it shouldn’t be). 

There is a message of, “your patience will be rewarded.” 

They see you as an angel, pile 3. And they are merely your knight and they offer you so much devotion. I know this should be your first impression of them but I think you see this practically right away. “Light dawns on marble head.” They bring you out of the hermit phase and show you that they have all nine cups and you only need to bring your one cup so you can have the Ten of Cups together. They don’t expect anything other than your presence, you just have to show up and give them love. That’s all they expect from you and I think that comes as a surprise to you because people had expected so much of you and stripped you of it all so you were left empty. It probably took you a long time to fill your own cup again. They bring new and wanted change even though it may come with some uncomfortability from your end. 

Dividers: @inklore

[evilmenenjoyer]

Punishment

Pairing: professor Hwang In-ho x student fem!Reader

Summary: You find a creative, albeit unconventional way to get out of the trouble you're in at university.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: sexual content (minors dni), age gap (legal, reader is implied to be in her early to mid 20s), spanking, corporal punishment, masochism, power dynamics, crying, unresolved sexual tension.

–––

You can tell something’s off the second you walk through the door, when your cheerful “Hello, Mr. Hwang!” is met with a short, courteous “good evening” from the professor.

It’s not rude. It’s not even particularly harsh. It just lacks the usual warmth you’ve come to expect from him, the tiny smile on his lips that always greets you.

Being called to see the strict Mr. Hwang In-ho after class usually meant bad news, leaving most students nervous about what they could’ve done wrong. But not you. You’ve lost count of how many times you stayed in this classroom for hours after class was over, discussing a book he had assigned for class or literature in general. Some days you’d help him grade tests and homework, when you noticed he had too much work on his back. And some days, the ones you cherished the most, you’d talk about things unrelated to class or literature – politics, your interests, your personal life. His personal life.

Saying you were smitten with him was the understatement of the century. You tried not to pay much attention to the crush you developed on him, hoping it would go away if you just ignored it for long enough, but it only seems to be getting stronger.

“You wanted to see me?” you ask, closing the door. It’s generally frowned upon for a student to be alone with a professor with the door closed, but Mr. Hwang never objects. The fact that he’s willing to bend the rules for you pleases you a little too much.

“Yes.” His tone is the same as before, not softening now that it’s just the two of you. He pinches the bridge of his nose, and you wonder what is it that’s got him in such a bad mood, if something happened in his life. “I have something to show you.”

He pulls out a piece of paper, setting it on his desk facing you. You approach, your footsteps slightly more hesitant than usual around him.

“Do you recognize this passage?” he asks, pointing to the highlighted paragraph.

You lean in to read it, an analysis of the similarities between classic English and South Korean literature. You recognize it immediately.

“I wrote it. That’s from my latest assignment.”

“Yes.” He’s still not looking at you, rummaging through a pile of papers. Did he not like the assignment? The thought alone upsets you. You worked so hard on it; not only for the sake of keeping your straight-As, but also to impress him. Maybe even more so to impress him. “How about this one?”

He sets another sheet of paper in front of you, one of the paragraphs highlighted in his same blue marker.

As you read it, your stomach immediately drops. It’s your paragraph, almost word-by-word, with a few differences that are too minor to even count.

“This is from Emily Jones’s paper. I believe the two of you are friends.”

You want to find Emily and strangle her. You told her to change stuff and not just copy from you. Did she really think someone like Mr. Hwang wouldn’t notice? That he’d just let it slide?

“I was the one who wrote the original,” you say. “I didn’t–”

“Oh, I know that. I’m very familiar with your writing style, and Ms. Jones isn’t nearly as gifted as you. I knew something was wrong the second I read it.”

You could play the victim, say Emily copied from you without your knowledge, but you know instantly it wouldn’t work, not with Mr. Hwang’s dark eyes right on you. Even when you’re not in emotional distress, the man can read you better than anyone else.

“I’m sorry.” You lower your gaze in shame. “Emily needed help, and I– she’s in the same exchange student program as I am, I know how much she needed the grade.”

“You could’ve helped her study, not let her copy off you.”

“There wasn’t a lot of time. She came to me last-minute.”

He sighs. “Well, I will have to fail both of you.”

“What?” It should be expected, but the words still sting. He knows how hard you work for your good grades. “But my essay was good.”

“It was great. Worthy of an A, if only you hadn’t helped another student with plagiarism. In fact, both of you should be reported for it.”

“Mr. Hwang, please.” Your eyes are practically begging him for mercy, the pitch of your voice getting ever so slightly higher as your desperation grows. “I can lose my scholarship and my spot at the exchange student program. Do you want me gone?”

You can see something flash across his eyes – regret, maybe, or perhaps that warmth you’ve been missing since you walked in here –, just for a split second before they’re back to normal, even more hardened than before.

“Cheating was your choice, not mine. You should’ve thought of the consequences.”

“What if– what if I wrote a new paper?” you bargain. “For half the grade. I can get it done in just a couple of days!”

“The paper is not the point. The point is how my most promising student would waste her talent to help a classmate cheat, and betray the trust I put in her.”

The praise doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but it fades away so quickly, like trying to hold on to smoke.

“It was a mistake. One that won’t happen again.”

“I’m very sorry, Ms. ____.”

You watch helplessly as he gathers the papers and organizes them back into a folder, the muscles of his arms tensed. He looks angry, but also upset. Disappointed. That sends you into an even bigger panic than a bad grade, or the potential of losing your spot at this university. It grows inside your chest, overwhelming, prompting you to say possibly the worst thing you could’ve come up with in this situation.

“What if I just take a whooping?”

He pauses. For a moment you’re both silent, still as statues as you process your own words, what you just asked for. Heat rises to your face so fast it makes you dizzy.

“What?”

You want to run away from this classroom. You want to go to the airport and take the next plane back to your country, classes and scholarship be damned.

However, now the words are already out, hanging heavy between the two of you. You can’t just back down, show him you spoke without thinking. You force yourself to nod, praying to the gods of every religion you know that your cheeks aren’t red enough that he can notice it.

“Yeah. It’s a good punishment,” you say. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not allowed. And because we are not in the 1930s.”

“You know in a lot of places corporal punishment in schools is still legal.”

“And Seoul isn’t one of them.”

“Please, Mr. Hwang.” You lower your eyes, trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to rush to the surface. “I know what I did was wrong. But I’d never– willingly betray your trust. I just want to get my punishment, and for things to be back to normal.”

Above all, you want him to stop looking at you like he is right now. Like you’re just any other student, like he doesn’t admire you for your passion and intelligence. Like you haven’t been spending almost every evening after class with him instead of hanging out with your classmates, trying to make friends your own age. Like you don’t mean anything to him.

Mr. Hwang regards you for several long moments. You try to hold his intense gaze, to figure out what he’s thinking, but both tasks are impossible.

“Would you really put yourself through that for a grade?” he asks.

You shake your head slightly, but that stubborn determination doesn’t leave your eyes. “It’s not just a grade.”

His respect for you. The friendship you two have tentatively built over the past few months. That’s what you truly fear losing.

The seconds tick, stretching for so long it feels like torture. It’s so silent in the room you wonder if Mr. Hwang can hear how fast your heart is beating in your chest.

“Okay,” he says finally, sharply. “Fine.”

“Really?” You’re unable to keep the surprise from your voice, from your face, even though you try.

“If you think you can take it.” Something about his voice as he says it, the low baritone of it, sends a new rush of warmth to your body; this time descending directly between your legs. 

“Of course I can.”

No, you probably can’t, and you’re well aware of that. But his words sound like a challenge, and a feeling claws at your chest – perhaps your pride and stubbornness, or simply embarrassment, or something else entirely that you’re not sure how to name – stops you from taking the words back.

“Alright then.” He gives a short nod, and you’re unsure if it was meant for you or for himself. “Bend over the desk.”

Why is it that a simple order for him makes your insides twitch like you’re about to pass out? Your legs shake as you take a step closer to his desk, looking down at the papers and folders neatly on top of it. Drawing in a breath, you bend your upper body down until your elbows touch the dark wood.

It’s only then that you notice your compromising position. Emily had joked with you about how the length of your skirts had gotten shorter with every visit to Mr. Hwang, and today’s pick was a plaid skirt that didn’t leave much to the imagination as it was. With you bending down like this, you can feel the fabric follow the movement, exposing even more of you to the professor.

The noise of his belt being removed only makes it worse. You shut your eyes, trying not to picture him letting his pants drop to the floor, trying not to think about how much you wish this is what was happening.

“Are you ready?” he asks, giving you one last chance to back down. You should take it.

You shut your eyes and nod your head. "Yes."

There’s a whistle in the air, and you let out a gasp as the first blow lands across your ass. Fuck. You’d seen it coming, and the fabric of the skirt absorbed much of the impact, but it still spreads the first hints of pain over your skin. Another blow directly under the first one, exactly where it should be. You clench your jaw, your mind flying back to childhood memories, to the last spanking you received at eleven years old – well over a decade ago, and yet you feel much more helpless now, a third blow of the belt making you jump in your spot.

The next one breaks the pattern, hitting on a diagonal angle right on top of the other three. It’s harder than the others too, sharper, slicing even deeper into your already stinging skin. You cry out, unable to hold it back, unable to catch your breath in time not to cry out again when the belt comes down on your ass one more time.

He sets a rhythm of harsh, punishing blows. They’re precise and calculated, deliberate, like he really means each and every one of them. Of course he does – when Professor Hwang sets his mind to something, he doesn’t quit until the job is done, down to the littlest details. And right now, he seems intent on making sure no spot of your ass is left untouched by the belt. He gradually picks up speed, until you’re unsure when one strike ends and the next begins.

It fucking hurts. It hurts so bad you don’t even find it in yourself to be embarrassed when the fabric of your skirt slides up and out of the way, leaving your bottom and your underwear exposed to him.

The pain is even worse when the leather belt makes contact with your bare skin; sharp and blazing hot, like he’s setting fire to you. You’ve bitten the inside of your lip hard enough to draw blood, but that doesn’t stop the sounds being ripped out of you, whimpers and cries and something that sounds way too close to Mr. Hwang’s name.

He pauses, his breaths heavy behind you. You collapse against the desk, elbows no longer strong enough to keep you propped upwards. With your ear pressed against the surface, you can hear your own heard that thumps wildly inside your chest, all your senses concentrated into a single point in your body.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks.

His tone isn’t judgmental, but your mind still echoes his words from just a few minutes ago: if you think you can take it. You’re not giving up now.

“I’m fine,” you snap, way too breathless for the statement to have any real impact, although your stubborn defiance is certainly there. “Just fucking finish it.”

His hand, warm and broad, finds its way in between your shoulder blades. He leans in, puts his weight into it, keeping you firmly pressed down over the desk. For some reason, your instinct isn’t to squirm away but to push into the heat, but you can’t move much one way or another under his grip.

“Then stay still.” His voice is so much closer to you, making you wish you had the strength to lift your head up and chase for his eyes.

Half a breath after the words are out, he strikes you again; this time with his other hand.

You sob and buck against the desk, the legs of it scraping against the floor. You can’t tell if his palm is better or worse than the belt. The pain isn’t as biting, but it’s broader and warmer, sending more fire into your already burning flesh. And it’s then that you realize you’re pushing into it, arching your back as best as you can, tilting your ass up to meet the assault. Basically offering it on a silver platter, presenting it to him and his ferocious, punishing hand.

And you’re wet.

You can feel it soak your panties, so much that you’re sure Mr. Hwang will be able to see a wet spot on them if he looks for it. Humiliated tears rise to your eyes, leaving you in a tumbling sob, desperately seeking relief but not wanting this to ever stop.

“M-Mr. Hwang.” The next strike hits you way too close to your core, the tiniest bit of friction that feels like heaven. You hiccup another cry, tears falling down and pooling over the smooth surface of the desk. “Please, I–”

You don’t even know what you’re pleading for anymore, but the word continues to leave your lips, over and over. His fingers come down hard over the sensitive spot where your ass meets your thighs, and you wonder if he knows what he’s doing to you – if he knows you’re on the brink of an orgasm just from this, that if he touches over you even for one second it might be enough to push you over the edge. He keeps going, alternates between one cheek and the other, his open palm covering as much skin as it can.

His hand travels down lower once again, warming your thighs to the same blistering heat as your ass. “God,” you breathe. You hadn’t noticed how hard your fingers are gripping the edges of the desk, your knuckles white, as if holding on could somehow save you.

He pauses again, and you can’t tell if you’re relieved or disappointed. You feel yourself throb inside your panties, wet and hot and neglected.

“Count them,” he orders.

You wince as his hand hits a sore spot, on top of skin that had already been hit too many times. “O-one.”

He lashes again and again.

“Two, three– fuck! F-four– fuck, please. I can’t, I can’t count anymore.” You’re unable to think straight at this point, unable to do anything other than cry and feel and want.

“God,” he sounds wrecked as well and you can’t understand why; you’re the one who feels as if you’re fighting for your life. He watches you, and you can’t decide if you’re embarrassed at your own state, the tears on your face and your ass that’s probably bright red by now, exposed to the professor, or if you’re too desperate for a release to think about that.

“It’s okay.” His hand lands on your hip, but doesn’t strike you again. It only caresses, his touch feather-light and delicate, a stark contrast to the harsh blows. “You did good.”

The light touch is enough to make you moan, breathing a deep sigh of relief. His touch feels unintentional, like he’s mesmerized, not fully aware of what he’s doing as he simply as he tries to ease the sting from the spanking. But when he drops down to press a kiss to the back of your shoulder, his body heat enveloping you – that can’t be accidental.

You lean into his touch as best as you can, and that’s when you feel it; something hard press against your core through layers of clothing, his cock a perfect, undeniable point of heat against you.

Both of you let our a simultaneous moan when you rub yourself back against his length. You want nothing more than for him to split you open, to push into you without a warning, without giving you time to adjust. Not that you’d last a long time, but you’d let him keep thrusting into you, having his way with your body until he was satisfied.

His hand slides under your bodies, inside your underwear.

“In-ho,” you sigh, a weak sound.

The sound of his name seems to pull you from whatever trance he’s stuck in. He stops, fingers just inches from your clit, like he’s only just realizing he’s on top of a student in his classroom. You try to lift yourself up, to rub against him again, but he doesn’t move.

He pulls away from you, and you feel like you could cry again in sheer desperation. Instead, you just stay there against the desk, wondering what the fuck just happened.

After a few moments, he lifts you up gently by the arms, turning you around to face him. He smooths out your sweater, but he doesn’t look at you. Not even once.

“You can go now, Ms. ____.”

You look at him in disbelief – first at his face, then at the tent that’s still very much apparent at the front of his pants.

“But–” you stammer. “Don’t… don’t you want me to–?”

He’s back in professor mode, organizing his papers that had turned into a mess. Still not fucking looking at you. His hair, usually neatly combed back, is now all over the place, and he looks like he’s about to break down himself.

“I’ll take care of the… assignment issue,” he says. “Go back to your dorm. It’s getting late.”

You don’t dare to disobey, even when tears rush to your eyes once again. Maybe it was all just about the assignment to him, and you got it all wrong. Or maybe – the thought hurts before it’s even fully formed in your mind – he regrets everything you’ve done.

It’s a short walk to your dorm, and you’ve never been more grateful that your roommate is not around. You throw yourself into your bed, hissing as your ass lights up in pain. It brings up all the memories back at once; the crack of the belt in the air, his warm hand stinging on your skin, the outline of his cock pressed against you.

You’re still soaked when you bring your own hand past your skirt and into your panties, not bothering to actually take them off. Two fingers slide inside, instantly finding a spot that melts your insides and makes you clench around yourself. Your other hand grips your own hip, intensifying the pain there.

“Mr. Hwang,” you moan, just to say it out loud. Your thumb brushes over your clit, just a hint of a touch and you’re gone, coming so fucking hard around fingers you do your best to pretend are his instead of yours, just at the thought of him doing this to you.

You come down slowly, so dazed you can barely open your eyes, but it doesn't bother you. Your ass has gone from searing hot to a dull, lingering ache, sure to keep you hurting for days to come. Good. You fall asleep thinking about it, thinking of his voice and his hands on you, trying to live in those moments for as long as you can.

[prettieinpink]

LITTLE WAYS TO LIVE HEALTHIER IN 2025

INCREASE YOUR N.E.A.T. Neat stands for non exercise activity thermogenesis. So, basically any daily activities we do when not exercising or sleeping. It's important for you to have a high N.E.A.T because it can be the difference between having a sedentary lifestyle or being moderately active. 

Ways to increase NEAT is to do more heavier chores everyday (vacuuming, mopping, dusting), taking the longer routes when walking, stand for 10 minutes each hour, pace back and forth while calling someone, march while you’re brushing your teeth, etc. 

DRINK HERBAL TEAS. Herbal teas can help you in a variety of areas of life, and are a great substitute for other processed beverages. 

ADD SUNLIGHT IN YOUR MORNING. Exposing yourself to sunlight early in the day helps with resetting the circadian rhythm, which in return helps for waking up easier and going to sleep easier. 

EAT WITHOUT DISTRACTIONS. You’ll savour your food so much more and it’ll be easier to tell when you’re satisfied. 

CREATE A PLAYLIST FOR WHEN YOU WIND DOWN. Once you get into the habit of listening to this playlist, it’ll become like a trigger to your body that it’s time to sleep because listening to that playlist  should be followed by settling into bed. 

 REGULARLY GO TO YOUR GP. Especially if you’re feeling a bit out of it. It is always better to make those regular visits and catch something before it becomes out of hand. 

STOP WAKING UP SO EARLY. I don’t know who needs to hear this, but waking up at 5am is unnecessary if not required. While I do believe that waking up earlier does have benefits, that extra hour of sleep probably has more. 

IF YOU’RE STRUGGLING, TAKE IT SLOWER. In this day and age, we don’t have time to process a lot of things. Everything is so fast paced, that if we fall behind, we tend to feel less than. 

Especially if you’re someone who can’t keep pace with the crowd due to disabilities or mental health. Take things at your own pace, and do what you can will yourself to do. 

GET SPIRITUAL. Lots of studies show that people who commit themselves to their beliefs are a lot happier in life than those who don’t. This doesn’t mean that you have to commit to a religion yet, but I would explore your spirituality side and see what  resonates with you. 

WEAR YOUR SPF. Skin cancer is no joke, and our earth is only getting hotter. Protect yourself, including your body! 

SURROUND YOURSELF WITH GOOD PEOPLE. People who radiate love and are always looking for the goodness around them, that rubs off on you and in return you’ll develop similar traits. Being with them will stimulate growth in all aspects of your life. 

I'm not telling anyone to ‘fix’ anyone, but it means a lot to other people if you can be that person in their life. It's a very rewarding and fulfilling lifestyle.  

TAKE MAKEUP BREAKS REGULARLY. Give your skin a break from products, and ideally take a week off each month to spend it makeup free. You’re saving time and your skin. 

ADD IN FRUITS, HERBS OR LEMON IN YOUR WATER. This will help with extra hydration and improve digestion. 

PRIORITISE FIBRE. As much as protein is good for you, fibre has just as much importance but it's not as heavily prioritised. Ideally, half of your meal should be fibres. However, that can be a hard change for some people, so start with having it on the side. 

It's great if you can incorporate ‘hidden’ fibre into your meals as well!

CURATE YOUR SPACE TO SUIT YOU. Add in little notes of reminders or quotes, place around photos or awards of your achievements, remove anything that impacts you negatively. You want the area that you’re in 24/7 to support that growth, not stifle it. 

Keep your area clean and decluttered as well. Try to minimise the amount of stuff that you have. You only need one of each thing, two is one too many. Having too much clutter affects the clarity of your mind.

it is numbered oddly because of the way I pasted this from google docs to tumblr. apologies!

[woso-dreamzzz]

Epicentre

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Summary: You want your sister to be the best

You have a big sister.

Sometimes, people at school tell you that she's not your real sister because she's adopted. But adopted means she's part of the family so you don't really understand what they mean by that.

But your big sister is your big sister and you love her a lot.

When you and Momma used to live in Germany, Sötnos lived back home in Sweden. She joined you all two years ago in England and when you and your mummies moved back to Germany, she had to spend her time in London seeing out the rest of her contract.

But now Sötnos is in Germany with you all too.

You think she likes Germany even though and she and Morsa don't really understand the language. It's okay though because she's got you and you understand German.

You're good at your languages.

Magda says that you're the best in the family at languages so it must be true.

You're the best at other things too like being a goalkeeper and bringing rocks to life.

Rocky, your favourite rock, sits on the shelf next to your bed so he can wake you up in the middle of the night if Magda tries to throw him out again.

She's not allowed to do that anymore because Pernille told her off but you want to be careful.

Careful like you are now as you wiggle out from under Pernille's arm in bed. You'd had a scary dream last night so she'd let you into the Big Bed to sleep with her and Magda.

But you're awake now, with an amazing idea to help your Auntie Frido with her goals in life.

You slip out from under Pernille's arms, shuffling towards the door. You freeze when there's movement behind you but it's just Magda flopping over onto her stomach, arms stretching up and around her pillow.

She always sleeps heavy.

You could draw on her face in permanent marker and she wouldn't even notice.

So your little feet go on their way, padding down the hall to the third bedroom in the house.

It creaks open and a head pops up from the bottom of the bed.

Sötnos' lamb looks at you, blinking once or twice before settling his head down again and going back to sleep.

The rustle is enough to wake your sister up though and Sötnos groggily rolls over to look at you.

"It's early," She complains," What's wrong?"

"I have important things to say," You say, fist buried in her blankets as you pull yourself into her bed.

"And they couldn't have waited until later?"

"No," You say plainly, settling on Sötnos' legs so she can't escape you," It is important."

Sötnos groans before flicking on her lamp and rubbing her eyes to rid them of sleep. "Go on. What is it?"

Sötnos is one of your heroes. After Magda and Pernille and Zećira, you think she's your favourite person in the world and you always want her to do well.

Auntie Frido says people that want to do well need to come to the best club in the world.

You know Sötnos wants to do well too because she left Sweden to go and play for Arsenal and you love Arsenal.

"You should live with auntie Frido," Is what you tell your sister.

"What?"

"Because she lives in Barcelona. That's in Spain, by the way."

She laughs. "I know that. Why do I have to live with Frido?"

"Because that's where you should play! So you can be the best!"

Sötnos laughs, pulling you into her arms properly. "You want me to move away from you?"

You pull a face. You hadn't thought of that. "I don't want you to go..." You say slowly," But I do want you to be the best. And Auntie Frido says Barcelona is the best. It has Tia Tana there and Ingrid and her silly girlfriend."

"You make a good point..." Sötnos says slowly and you nod along," But I'd like to stay in Germany with you. Is that alright too?"

"You-You don't want to be the best?"

"I can be the best here. How else would I become the best if I didn't have my favourite girl giving me so many pointers? You're very important."

You giggle, looking down bashfully. "Really?"

"Really," Sötnos agrees," We've got to develop together, remember? So we're on the Sweden team at the same time."

You nod. "Okay! I'll tell Auntie Frido that you have to stay here! It's very important."

"What's important?"

The door creaks open and light from the hallway streams into the room.

Pernille stands there, wrapped tightly in her dressing gown with messy hair sticking up from her head.

"Girls," She says, not waiting for an answer to her question," It's early. Why are you talking so loudly so early?"

"Momma!" You say," Good news! Sötnos is staying in Germany!"

"I...wasn't aware she was leaving?"

"That's good! Because she's not!"

"Right."

Pernille exchanges a look with your sister that you don't quite understand just as Magda's head pops around the doorframe.

"I take it all this excitement means that no one's getting anymore sleep?" She asks, trying to rub all the sleep out of her eyes. She blinks a few times, focussing on the way you and your sister are cuddling in bed together with a soft smile on her face.

Her gaze drifts down to the foot of the bed and her eyes go wide.

"What have I told you girls about letting the lamb in the bed?!"

[vyyper]

a little too shy to ask this off anon but mydei with a scholarly wife hcs please 🥺🥺

Mydei with a Scholarly S/O

a/n: hi anon! i know you said wife but i just went along with the flow as i wrote and it ended up gn, i hope that's still alright! i enjoyed this request a lot :)

mostly fluff, written with the pre 3.1 setting in mind

-i think a scholarly partner is just so so perfect for mydei. he values knowledge highly and knowing that you are in constant pursuit of it makes him so happy for you!! definitely your #1 supporter.

-he'd tell you about kremnoan history and culture, if you show interest. he tries not to let it slip too much but it excites him. it's important to him that people know, that this information doesn't fade, and he'll be reassured knowing someone like you has this knowledge

-he'd love to let you use his library, read all the books within together, nothing but the pages and each other to pass the time. perhaps in a kinder life, but he's still more than content reading with you now. if he has the time, one of his favorite things to do with you is read in silence. perhaps he'll cook some warm stew, and you'll sit together, reading, occasionally sipping from your bowls in comfortable, affectionate silence.

-will let you ramble about anything and everything! he's always willing to lend an ear and try and help you out with whatever research you may be doing, as much as he can. he's definitely a good listener, quiet unless you ask for input and what input he gives is helpful and to the point. it's one of his favorite things to do, listens to you with the fondest look in his eyes, like you're the center of the universe. people whisper about the cold glare mydeimos has on his face before he strikes down and enemy, but they've never seen how mydei's eyes burn with warmth as he listens to his beloved.

-additonally, after bringing up a new subject you notice him with a book about it in his hand sometimes...wants to learn about it with you so he can supply help if you need any. and the fact that you make anything interesting to him, you make him want to learn even more than before.

-refuses to let you overwork though, don't even try you'll break his heart...his duties already keep him away from you, the last thing he'd want is for you to let your health spiral in what time he gets with you. if you're losing sleep and forgetting meals, he'll cook you a whole feast and let you rant out all your stress before dragging you to bed. he'll rub your shoulders and tell you not to do something like that again, not to worry him, hold you as you sleep. if he's away he'll reluctantly get your friends to check on him regularly. he understands the importance of privacy and trusts you can be responsible...but he does worry, and he wants to make sure.

also on the topic of him wanting to read because of you...he knows how to interpret poetry, so i think he'd read romance poems and be reminded of you, feel the emotions they describe, maybe even pick up ways to show affection towards you from them since kremnoans don't even have a word for love.

wait i have this vision of him carrying you. you joke that you're too tired to get up from where you're working at in hopes it'll sway him and he blinks before picking you up like you weigh nothing and setting you down on the couch or bed. you're too shocked to say anything. he watches your expression with a faint and teasing smile, both at your shock and at the fact that he's gotten you away from your work.

-adding onto how he likes hearing you talk, i think after a very long day or so he'll return home, slump into bed. he doesn't mean to wake you up but if he does, he'll apologize before reluctantly asking you just talk to him, about any developments in your studies or anything else you want to talk about. your voice calms him and he'll listen to you until he feels you starting to drift off, the soft pattern of your breaths in sleep calming him further.

-early on in your relationship, before you're married, he tells you one day that there is no word for love in the kremnoan language. you think you see hints of regret on his face, guilt in his tone. so you smile and tell him the word for "love" in yours. i love you.

you don't expect him to use it often, at first. although he's warmed up around you, you assume that saying such a thing must be difficult for him. but tell him how to say it and he'll repeat it everyday. "i love you," he says back after you tell him, once to test the sound on his tongue, and then again to affirm the words you . his tone is unwavering, unlike your slightly nervous one, like the words are something already deeply engraved in his mind he's just recovered. "i love you," he murmurs as you drift off, on a rare night where he gets to rest with you in his arms. "i love you," he declares, kissing your knuckles before ending his show of affection with a press lips to your ring, holding your wrist gently.

he wants you to remember it always. he'll be bound to you forever and always; he never wants to let go, and he'll be sure to remind you of it.

[kazwritesthings]

your smile

peeta mellark x fem! reader

summary: peeta mellark has been your best friend for as long as you can remember. yet not once has he ever mentioned the dark haired girl he is now claiming to be in love with. did you read his signals wrong? did he not trust you enough to tell you about his crush? more importantly, why do some of the stories he’s telling about her sound… oddly familiar?

word count: 8.1k (yikes)

(note: hello!! i haven’t written in yearssss so please be nice about any spelling or grammar errors you find lol)

_________________

you've had three near death experiences in your lifetime.

the first was when peeta's older brother, jayce, had taken you out to the lake not too far from the edge of district 12. he had been bragging about how beautiful the ice looked early in the morning to try and make little peeta jealous since he wasn't allowed to go see it. being the stubborn thing you were, you bribed him to take you and peeta with him one morning. you were only tiny, barely 6 years old, so even though he caught you before you fell completely through a cracked section of the ice, it was enough to soak you up to your waist. you developed a terrible fever that you only survived because your mother sold most of her belongings to pay for the best doctor she could.

the second near death experience you had was when you were a little older. when you were 11, you had wanted to explore the woods past the fence on the outskirts of 12. you'd tried to convince peeta to come with you, but he did want to get in trouble. you didn't make it very far anyway since you fell backwards when you tried to climb the first tree you came across . your head landed inches away from a large rock which definitely would have caved your skull in had you landed on it. luckily you escaped with a bruised butt and even more bruised ego.

as for the third near death experience... you're living through it now

"the male tribute for the 74th hunger games is... peeta mellark!"

physically, you’re fine. your name wasn’t called; you get to go home once this is all over. but your soul. your other half isn’t so lucky.

hot tears stream down your face as you watch peeta make his way through the crowd of boys. you look around at his brothers, praying above anything that one of them would volunteer for him, take his place like the female tribute had done for her sister moments ago. but when you see them, their faces are solum, staring at the floor as peeta walks past their rows.

peeta looks as shellshocked as you feel as he walks up the stairs and stands next to the woman with the crazy outfit and weird hat. his eyes dart around the crowd of girls until they land on you. you’ve never seen him look so scared before, and it causes you to cry harder.

“go on! shake hands!” the crazy capitol lady says, moving out the way so peeta and the other girl, katniss, can do as she says. peeta is barely able to rip his eyes off you when he does, still staring out into the crowd when he takes katniss’ calloused hand into his own.

you don’t really register what happens next, your brain foggy with the hellish news that’s just been forced upon you. before you know it, your stood outside a room in the town hall, waiting for peeta’s family to say goodbye. the heat of anger you had directed at his brothers has cooled to an almost debilitating fear. all you can taste is blood from biting the inside of your cheek to try and calm yourself - it doesn’t work.

after five minuets, the peacekeeper next to the door opens it and calls that their time with peeta is up. he then turns to you and nods his head towards the door. you push past his mother in your rush to get to him, making her curse at you under her breath. she never liked you, calling you a bad influence on peeta, but you never really cared.

you stand across the room from him, waiting until the door shuts behind you and you can finally be alone. peetas eyes are red as if he has been crying, yet his face is dry. it’s clear he’s been holding back his tears, letting them build up like a dam moments from bursting. the damn breaks the second he sees you.

“y/n,” peeta mutters, his entire body collapsing in on itself. he would have fallen to the floor if you hadn’t ran to him in time. your arms wrap around his waist to hold him up while his loop around your neck, pulling you to him faster and closer than he ever has before. his tears are hot against your neck, soaking into your one nice shirt. you don’t care.

“oh god… this isn’t fair” you cry into his neck, trying your best to hold yourself together. one of you needs to be strong, and it definitely shouldn’t be peeta right now.

and yet it is. he pulls away and takes you by the shoulders. his big brown eyes, always so warm and full of life, have grown sad and watery. you hate it.

“you’ll be okay. i made my brothers swear that they’ll look after you and your mom when i’m gone, discounted bread and everything. mother wasn’t happy about it but i made it my dying request” his chuckle has your blood boiling because of how calm he sounds. how accepting he sounds.

you slap him gently on the shoulder, glaring up at him with a look that usually has him taking back his teasing jokes. “shut the fuck up, peeta. you’re not dying in there. you’re strong, the strongest person i know,” you hiss, slapping him again when he rolls his eyes.

“y/n it’s no use-” he starts, but you’re quick to cut him off.

“yes it is! you’re strong, so you could wrestle any of the other tributes if it comes to it. you’re charming, so you can win sponsors before you go in and make allies with other strong tributes. and i’ll work my ass off out here so i can send you things when you need,” you ramble, squeezing his hands on your shoulder as you try to think.

“y/n i’m not making it out,” peeta tries to cut you off, which is what finally pushes you off the edge.

“STOP SAYING THAT!” you yell, cutting off his depressing words. he stares at you, surprised. you very rarely raise your voice, let alone at him. “you can’t give up before you’ve gone in! you can’t…” your voice cracks before it trails off. you begin to cry again, leaning your forehead against his shoulder as you hold onto him again. “i can’t lose you.”

the room is silent for a moment, the only sound being the muffled voices coming from next door where you can only assume katniss is saying goodbye to her family. it is broken again by peeta’s gentle voice.

“did i ever tell you how beautiful you are?” he mutters against your ear, sending shockwaves down your spine. your head shoots back to look him in the eyes, your mind suddenly blank.

“w…what?” you stutter breathlessly, not sure you heard him right.

peeta gives you a smile you’ve only ever seen him aim at you. it’s fond and warm, with an unspoken, uncertain glint in his eyes. he opens his mouth, to repeat himself or explain himself you don’t get to find out. the peacekeeper that was outside barges in and storms across the room faster than you can think.

his hand roughly grips your arm and drags you away from peeta. panic floods you as you yell and reach out for peeta. “no! no! i need more time! please!” you scream, your fingers barely linked in peeta’s before you’re violently pulled apart.

“hey! let her go,” peeta tries to run after you, yelling at the peacekeeper who is dragging you across the room, but is stopped by another peacekeeper grabbing his shoulder and throwing him backwards.

everything is happening too fast. there was so much more you had to say to him, do with him. this was never the way you wanted to tell him, yet this may be the last chance you will ever have.

“peeta! peeta i love you!” you call as the peacekeeper gives you one final push and throws you out of the room. you stumble into the chest of one of his brothers, and quickly spin around to get one final look at him.

for a moment, the colour is back in his face. his eyes are bright in the way they used to be, crinkled in the corner as he smiles at you again.

“y/n i-” a door slams in your face, cutting peeta off and leaving you a husk of your former self.

——————

the following days are agony. peeta’s brothers kept their word, checking in on you once a day with a loaf of your favourite bread. you mainily spent your days helping your mother at her stall in the hob or picking up little jobs wherever you can to put towards helping peeta.

the only time you felt any semblance or relief was when peeta was on the television. your heart soared when you saw him in the chariot during the opening ceremony. he looked so different: his usually messy hair slicked back, dark makeup around his eyes and a black suit that’s literally on fire making you wince out of nervousness for him. he looks incredible. and so does katniss next to him.

you can’t help but frown when you see him reach for her hand and hold them in the air. it’s stupid to be possessive over him at a time like this, yet you can’t help it. its a gross, sticky sensation that claws at your chest and stops you from fully filling your lungs with air. and it only gets worse with time.

you don’t see peeta for a while since the tributes have started their training, so you continue working in the hob. people give you saddened looks when you walk past them in the streets, since anyone who had visited the bakery at least once would have known how close the two of you are. it is probably why you’ve been able to find so many tasks and errands to do over the past few days. people pity you.

you and your mother watch the training scores together, cheering out of joy when you see peeta receive an 8. it’s high enough that sponsors will notice him yet low enough for the careers to not see him as a threat. it takes the weight off your shoulders for a moment.

the days continue to drag by until it’s the day before the games begin, meaning it’s interview day. the only thing that’s been keeping you going is the fact that you get to hear his voice, see him properly speak today. there aren’t enough words in the english language to describe how difficult it is to go from being with the person you love all day, every day, to not being able to see him at all.

your skin tingles with nerves as you take a seat at your kitchen table and turn on the interviews. most go by slowly, the tributes all doing their best to make themselves stand out and more likeable. your heart bleeds for the young girl from district 11, rue.

katniss does amazing in her interview. while she is very clearly nervous, she’s able to make people laugh at her accidental jokes, cry at her love for her sister and awe at her beautiful dress that bursts into flames. you had only briefly spoken to her before, a word or two when you would buy game from her. still, you are proud of her for doing well.

peeta does even better. he’s just as charming as you knew he would be, maybe even more. he cracks jokes left and right making you grin.

when laughter calms down, the host ceaser flickerman, gives him a serious look that he jokingly mimics.

“now peeta, tell me. is there a special girl waiting for you at home?” ceaser asks. my heart pounds in my chest as i wait for his answer.

peeta opens his mouth to speak when he pauses. a look of sadness appears on his face for a moment and disappears even faster. the only reason why you’re able to catch it is because you’ve spent years analysing every face he’s ever made.

“well… there’s this one girl that i’ve had a crush on forever,” peeta says shyly.

your breath hitches. could he be talking about you? he looked happy when you said you loved him. you bite your lip anxiously, curling your legs into your chest.

ceaser grins, showing off his overly white teeth. “ahh… i’ll tell you what, peeta. you go out there and you win this thing. when you get home she’ll have to go out with you”

once again, peeta’s face changes for a fraction of a second. for just a moment, he smiles. he smiles your smile. the one he reserves for you and you only. it makes you heart lurch and a smile appear on your face.

your smile disappears off his face as fast as it came, and your nerves return.

“thanks, but i don’t think winnings gonna help me at all” he mutters, looking away from ceaser and the audience.

ceaser frowns, his tanned skin folding until it looks like crumpled orange peel. “why not?”

peeta takes a deep breath before speaking.

“because she came here with me.”

oh

you feel like the floor has disappeared underneath you, and you’re free falling into darkness. your chest burns with every breath you take. there’s a ringing in your hears that you’ve never heard before, and all you can think about is… how?

is there any way that you could have missed that? not once had peeta ever spoken about katniss, in the romantic sense or otherwise. sure, he’d come with you to buy game from her occasionally, but that’s the only time you’d ever seen them interact. could it be possible that he just didn’t tell you?

you don’t even realise that you’re crying until your mom reaches over and wipes your tears. you choke back a sob as your grip the table tightly, blurry vision fixed on the screen. you need to know more.

the look ceaser gives him makes my skin crawl. a look of pity that’s clear to anyone who has eyes. “ahh. well that’s bad luck.”

peeta nods, and looks back at ceaser. “yea it is. i’ve liked her for as long as i can remember,” he smiles fondly, a far off look in his eyes. it makes you want to scream.

“would you mind telling me when you first started liking her?” ceaser asks, leaning closer to peeta as he begins to push the conversation further than you want to hear.

another micro expression that only you could see flashes on his face. panic.

he quickly covers it and nods, sitting up in the chair uncomfortably. “uh yea. we were both in school together. one time in class our teacher asked if anyone knew the valley song, and she raised her hand so fast,” he laughs, covering his face slightly to hide a blush that was slowly growing on his cheeks.

ceaser laughs in a way that you can’t tell his happy or sad. “and i’m guessing that this girl,” he looks knowingly at the audience, “was a good singer, no?”

“the best,” peeta nods, the blush reaching up to his ears and down his neck now. “i’ve gotta admit something kinda weird. i watched her go home every day after that. i was desperate to get closer to her.”

that’s throws your for a loop and sends your mind spinning even more. you and peeta walked home together every day since you first began school. there is no way you could have missed him watching her, right? your head throbs with unanswered questions and more emotions than you can comprehend. you shut off interview when you realise that peeta is finished, walking past your mom to your bedroom.

you cry yourself to sleep that night. not just because of what you witnessed today, but because it may just be the last night that the love of your life is also alive.

——————

you could count on one hand the amount of times that you have watched the hunger games from start to finish. you’d never had much of a stomach for violence in the first place, but you had to stomach it to make sure that peeta was still alive.

it was easy to push down your messed up feelings about peeta and katniss when all you were focusing on whether he was alive or not. you watched as peeta joined the careers, only to betray them and get attacked by cato. you were nearly inconsolable when he was injured and forced to hide out by the river. you were so scared for him that you didn’t sleep until they finally showed him being reunited with katniss.

you had never been so relieved when they announced that two victors from the same district could win. katniss obviously was attached to peeta, so she’d do anything to keep him alive so that they could win together.

you were grateful beyond words to her for looking after him. she cleaned his wound to the best of her ability and hid him in a cave. however, this is when it started to become harder to ignore the ache in your chest when you see them together.

the longer they spent together the more your heart hurt. you tried to distract yourself by working, yet you couldn’t get the image of them in the cave out of your mind. the only good thing that came about because of your work is that you finally had made enough to send peeta some medicine.

after collecting all the money you had, you ran to the town centre. you quickly filled out the application on what you wanted to send him and gave them everything you had. originally you had been saving the money to one day buy a cow that you could sell milk with. peeta was more important than that.

when you arrive at the section of the form that allows you to write a message to your chosen tribute, you feel slightly stumped. this may be the last thing you get the chance to say to him. you wrack your brain for something to say, but all that comes to your head is the lyrics to your favourite song. it makes you smile. they sum up how you feel about him perfectly, so you scribble down the words as quickly as you can.

once you finished the form and handed him the money the peacekeeper said that the medicine should be sent shortly, so you rush back home as fast as you can.

you arrive back just in time to see a parachute land just outside of the cave. katniss walks over and opens it, frowning when she sees the message that you had written for peeta inside. anger bubbles up inside you when she frowns. what the hell is her problem?

you watch as she walks inside and holds out the pot.

“someone sent you medicine,” she tells him, kneeling by his side.

“oh really? who?” peeta shuffles to sit up slightly, wincing as the pain flares in his leg.

you sit with baited breath, waiting for her to tell him the truth.

“haymitch,” is all she says as she begins to gently apply it to his leg.

the anger from before simmers up into a white hot rage. how fucking dare she. who the fuck does she think she is? katniss must recognise your name, she has to know how close you two are. why wouldn’t she tell him?

you smack the table in front of you, tears flooding your vision as someone else takes credit for your effort. however you pause when you look back at the screen, your bottom lip wobbling. the relief that spreads across peeta’s face forces you to take a deep breath. he got the help that he needed, and you were able to give that to him. that’s all that matters.

a few tears escape from your eyes as you watch the two of them. there’s an aching in your chest that you can’t seem to escape from, one that’s separate from the jealousy you’re feeling. a nagging sensation, like you’re missing something.

“why are you doing this?” peeta asks, staring up at her with his big eyes that make you swoon every time you see them, and he knows that. you hate that he’s using them on her.

“you helped me once,” katniss responds.

a silence lingers over them for a moment before peeta practically bursts to life. “i think about that day all the time how i tossed you that bread.”

“peeta,” katniss sighs.

“i should have gone to you. i should have just gone out in the rain and…” he trails off, using those big eyes of his to wear down her defences. and it works. she leans down and kisses him softly, cupping his face in her hands.

you hate how you look away from the screen. the amazing mic quality picks up on the sound of their lips locking together so there’s no escaping what they’re doing in front of the entire country.

everything makes sense now. you remember peeta telling you about the time that he burnt bread to feed katniss. he never mentioned it again, so you assumed at the time that it didn’t mean anything. how wrong you were.

when she pulls away from him, peeta begins to mumble. “i remember one time i followed you into the woods. i was terrified of getting in trouble, but i was so desperate to keep an eye on you. i watched as you climbed a tree not too far from the edge, then watched as you fell like fifteen feet to the ground when one of the branches snapped. i was so scared for you… but you stood up and carried on like nothing had happened. that’s the first time i saw how strong you are,” he smiles softly up at her.

you frown again, a small voice nagging in the back of your mind. he followed her to the woods. the only time you went, you had begged him to come with you and he had refused. yet he went with her? it made bile rise to your throat. when you finally look back at the screen, what you see breaks you.

your smile. being aimed at her.

you turn the screen off and it stays off for the rest of the night.

——————

“attention. attention, tributes. there has been a slight rule change. the previous revision, allowing for two victors from the same district, has been revoked. only one victor may be crowned. good luck. and may the odds be ever in your favour.”

only moments ago you had been crying tears of joy. peeta and katniss had made it. they were coming home. he was coming home.

not anymore it seems.

a terrifying sound echoes throughout your kitchen, and it takes a moment for you to realise that the sound is coming from you. desperate, wet sobs wrack your body as you dig your nails into your wooden table in front to ground yourself. you watch, horrified, as katniss takes out the nightlock berries from earlier. are you really about to see the love of your life kill himself on live television, just so that he doesn't have to live without the love of his?

your body is numb, eyes glassy, tears and snot running down your face as you watch them stand inches from each other, raising the poison to their lips. you don't realise it but your mother is gently running her hands along your back to try and calm you, it clearly having no effect.

you look at those eyes. that smile that he has on his face as he raises the berries. it's your smile again. it makes you wonder, just for a moment, if you could be his last thought.

"stop! stop! ladies and gentlemen, may I present the winners of the of the 74th annual hunger games," a voice booms loud and clear over the speaker.

air floods your lungs once more, and you can breath again. he's coming home. your peeta is coming home.

you choke out a laugh, reaching over to hug your mom tighter than you ever have before. the two of you laugh and scream in delight, and everything is right in the world again.

when you finally let go, you turn back to look at the screen. peeta and katniss are locked in an embrace similar to the one the two of you had shared just before he had left. and once again, your smile is on his face, aimed at her.

he is coming home. but he might not be yours anymore.

——————

its another week of interviews and celebrations before peeta and katniss are finally on their way home. on the way to the capitol, peeta couldn't really pay attention to much other than the look on your face when you told him that you loved him. he wasted so many years being terrified that you didn't feel the same way, only to find out days before he died that he had a chance after all.

now that he's on his way home, he doesn't plan on wasting anymore time.

he has to admit, his idea was a stroke of genius. when he first brought up the idea of pretending to be in love to receive sponsors, katniss had laughed in his face. she refused to be seen as weak, and didn't want to spend what could be her last days alive pretending to be someone she wasn't. haymitch, on the other hand, loved it.

as much as he hates to admit it, pretending to be in love with katniss came to him easier than he was expecting it to be. it was a thousand times easier since he was already in love. with you.

every time he had to talk to her, about her; when he had to hold her or kiss her, he was always picturing you. even the stories he told, the ones about the woods and the valley song. they were some of his favourite memories with you.

he had warned katniss before they went in how he felt about you, and she was more than happy to be a place for him to project his feelings for you as long as it kept them both alive. and it did.

he had just hoped that you had been able to see through the stories he was telling and understand that none of it was real, that it was all an illusion to keep them alive. and he'd never forget the sense of relief he felt what katniss showed him the message you had sent him along with the medicine.

"roses are red, love, violets are blue. birds in the heavens know i love you." - y/n

it was the lyrics to your favourite song. the valley song. you knew he was waiting for you.

——————

you waited with baited breath as the train pulls into the station. the crowd of people surrounding waiting with you are honestly pissing you off. they didn't care about peeta before they left for the games, so why are you having to fight your way through strangers to get to him now?

it's only when the doors to the train open and he finally steps onto the platform that you feel alive again. he looks the same as he did the day he left you, and it takes your breath away. the crowd erupts in applause as he takes katniss' hand and holds it in the air, the same way that he did in the opening ceremony. your breath hitches when you remember that he isn't yours anymore. it has slipped your mind in the excitement of getting to see him. a deep heat spreads from your chest down to your stomach, and you feel like you might throw up.

that's when your eyes meet his. and time stands still. for the first time in what feels like a lifetime, he smiles at you. he gives you your katniss' smile, and for a moment everything is okay again.

peeta and katniss are ushered off the platform before you get a chance to do more than stare at him. as they rush off you begin to push your way out of the crowd. you push past katniss' family, prim and her mother and her best friend gale. they give you a small smile as you pass, one that you return tenfold. nothing can bring you down in this moment. despite the fact that peeta isn't yours anymore, he's alive. it will take some time to adjust, but you can learn to live with that. as long as he's okay.

——————

scratch that. this fucking sucks.

not once have you ever been nervous to see peeta. despite the fact that you're hopelessly in love with him, talking to him always came easy. but now that you're stood here in front of him, who you can only assume his girlfriend stood feet away, and it's like you fell out of that tree all over again. you're winded despite the fact that nothing hit you. you can't catch your breath despite how hard you inhale.

you don't even know how you got here. one moment you were at home, the next peeta's brother was dragging you here, throwing you in and shutting the door behind him with a smile on your face that you completely didn't trust.

you try to focus on him and this moment, but all you can see is the room you're in. peeta's new house in victors village is more grand than anywhere you've been before. the each of the rooms are at least the size of your entire house with enough space to fit everything from your mothers stall at the hob tenfold. you wonder what peeta is going to use the space for since he doesn't have many possessions.

you're able to snap out of it seconds before he reaches you. everything feels like its stuck in fast-forward as his arms loop around your waist and pull you straight into his chest. despite his jokes in the interviews before the games, he smells the same. somehow he still smells like flour and that scent that you can't place that's just so him.

"hey," he whispers in your ear, and it feels like you are hearing his voice for the first time ever. it breaks something inside of you that has your knees buckling and your eyes watering.

"i told you you could win," you whisper back, seconds away from breaking down. he barks a laugh that has you choking back a sob. your hands shake as you grip onto his shirt, desperate to pull him closer to you. he's here. he's really here.

"you're really going to have the first thing you say to me be 'i told you so?'" peeta laughs, pulling back so he can look you in the eyes. he holds your cheek in his hand as he scans your face. you feel exposed in a way you never have before, and it makes you blush.

someone else in the room laughs at his joke too, and you're instantly aware of how bad this looks. you pull out of his grasp as fast as he pulled you into it, your eyes flickering to where the laughter came from. of course, it was his girlfriend.

you've never felt so embarrassed in your life. here you are getting all touchy feely with him when his girlfriend, the reason he is still alive, is standing right next to you. you cough awkwardly, scratching the back of your neck as you let out a nervous laugh.

"yea, well you know me. i'd never pass up a chance to say it, especially since you're always wrong" you laugh, looking anywhere but him. if you had been you would have seen the confusion, and the hurt, written on his face as clear as day.

you turn to katniss and fight back anger rising when you remember how she had hid the message you had sent him with the medicine. she had let their mentor take credit for your entire life savings. but she had also looked after him and saved his life more times than you can count. it's a debt you'll never be able to repay.

as quickly as peeta ran to you, you ran to her. you hugged her tightly, surprising everyone in the room.

"thank you for keeping him alive," you say, surprising her even more.

katniss hesitantly wraps her arms around you in response. she's clearly confused, though you're not too sure why. "y-you're welcome. he saved me too," she responds and you fight back a wince.

once you let her go, you look back and forth between the two. you suppose there is a way that you can repay the debt you owe her. you can let him go.

you sniffle and wipe your eyes with the back of your sleeve. "i suppose i should let you two get comfortable in your new house! it's really nice," you look around the room, avoiding not only peeta's gaze, but katniss' as well.

quickly, you walk back over and give him another hug. "i've got to get back to work, but i'll see you later, okay?" the smile you give him doesn't reach your eyes, and he can see that.

"hey, wait-" peeta goes to call after you, but it's too late. you're already out the door and off into the cool evening air of district 12.

——————

why are you doing this?

you'd spent every waking moment while he was in the capitol wishing that peeta was by your side. yet here you are, running between your mother's stall and your home just to avoid seeing him. every time you start to question yourself, you get a flash of them in the cave. he deserves to be happy, and if katniss makes him happy, then you'll step back.

it's pathetic honestly. running between houses, hiding behind walls every time you go out just so you won't accidentally run into him. the only time you've ever been grateful for how small your house is was the other day when you jumped out the window to avoid him when he dropped by to see you. you hid by the the side of the house until you saw him walk away and deemed it safe to climb back inside.

your mother isn't happy with you. she says your punishing him for something that wasn't his fault. but you're not punishing him. you're trying to help him.

you press yourself against the cool painted wall of one of the buildings near the hob. the good thing about peeta being famous now is that wherever he goes, chatter follows him, which is usually enough to warn you that he's nearby.

it's not enough today though. just as you're about to make a run for it to the next building, a firm hand grips your upper forearm. without looking you know who it is, and you flinch. there is no way you can possibly talk your way out of this.

you slowly turn to face peeta. the look on his face stops your heart and kills any excuses you had on your tongue. he looks just as pale as the day that his name was called on that stage. his brows are furrowed, and a heartbreaking frown pulls down his face. he looks older like this, so much like his mother that it puts you on edge more than you already had been.

"hey peet. what's wrong?" you ask once you finally get your breath back.

without a word, peeta turns and pulls you off of the wall and down the street the way that you had just came from. anxiety builds in your stomach. part of the reason why you'd avoided him for as long as you have was to put off the conversation on why you're avoiding him in the first place. the urge to rip your arm out of his grasp and flee to the woods and spend the rest of your days living in a tree consumes you. but he deserves more than that.

by the time you arrive at peeta's new house in victors village, the humiliation that comes with your recent actions had finally sunk in. you walk into his house with your head hanging low; if you had a tail it defiantly would be between your legs.

the two of you stop in his kitchen. its uncomfortably quiet since victors village is so separate from the rest of the district. you're not used to this level of silence, especially when your with peeta.

"peet?" you hesitantly call his name. he's not facing you. instead, he's bent over a table, his palms pressed flat against the wood with his back facing you.

"i don't understand," his voice comes out quiet, hoarse. has he been crying?

you take a hesitant step towards him, your hand hanging in the air as you debate reaching out to touch his back. "you don't understand what?"

your words seem to have woken something in him. he spins around so fast scares you. he doesn't look like his mother anymore, but the doesn't mean he looks any less angry.

"i don't understand you. i don't get it. you tell me you love me, then you ignore me for a week?" he hisses. you'd heard peeta get angry before, but it had never been aimed at you. you flinch when he yells, but then you register what he said.

"i thought i was helping you adjust to your new life," you frown, chewing at the inside of your cheek as you look at him. you knew he would be angry at you for avoiding him, but you didn't think he'd bring up what you said before he went to the games.

peeta scoffs and leans back against the table. "how the hell would that help me? and what do you mean my new life?"

"your new life with katniss," you say like its the most obvious thing in the world.

that is clearly not what he was expecting. it's almost like his body does a full reset. his face relaxes into neutral and his body relaxes so he's sat on the table.

"what does katniss have to this?" he asks, confused.

you tilt your head at his question. "well... i assume that you and katniss are going to be together now, and i thought that you would't want to be around someone who has a crush... who is in love with you while you have a girlfriend. so i gave you some space," you explain.

just like his first ever interview, micro expressions flash across his face, except this time they pass too fast for you to clearly work out what they are. he falls back to neutral, but this time his eyes are softer.

"i thought you understood... the parachute letter..." he trails off.

it's your turn to be surprised now. "you knew about that? i thought katniss told you haymitch sent the medicine."

peeta lets out a laugh, and you swear your knees could give in there and then. the atmosphere in the room is different now and you can't place it. its not as soft as it was when he first told you that you were beautiful, nor is it as tense as it was when you were reunited.

"that was just for the camera's, she showed me the card later. haymitch said that it wouldn't be a good idea to let the capitol know that i had someone waiting at home for me when i'm supposed to be in love with my fellow tribute," peeta takes a step towards you, a fond smile spreading across his face.

his words make you pause as you look at him confused. you blink slowly as you try to absorb what he just said.

"wait... what do you mean 'supposed to be?'" you breath out.

peeta pulls a face that this time you recognise, mainly because you've been on the receiving end more times than you would like to admit. it's a fond look, one that you would give a cat runs into a wall while playing with a laser or a child when it falls over doing something you told it not to do. it's his nice way of telling you that you're being an idiot.

he slowly reaches up and tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear. "did you really think that after hearing the girl i've hopelessly pined over for my entire life say that she loves me i would turn around and date someone else? let alone someone who i'd interactd with maybe three times maximum."

his touch sends a spark that shoots through the rest of your body, setting you ablaze. you're still confused beyond belief, but your heart feels like it might burst. did you really hear that right?

"y... you what? your whole life?" you sound no better than a toddler learning to speak, and it makes peeta laugh once again.

you shake your head in attempt to clear your mind and get your thoughts in order. "i don't understand. you told those stories about when you first saw katniss and when you started liking her? the bread, peeta! i remember you telling me about the bread!" you ramble, stepping back slightly to get a better look at him. you're so all over the place that you barely hear his reponse.

"well, yes. the bread thing actually happened. so did everything else, to be completely truthful. but they didn't happen with katniss. i was talking about you," he grins, taking another step closer and reaching out to take your hand in his. "i mean seriously. how did you not realise i was talking about you? do you not remember singing the valley song when we were little? and when i said i watched 'her'," he uses air quotes around the word, "walk home every day after that. i did! i watched you walk home because i would walk you to your house! every single time i had to kiss her, touch her, god even just look at her... i was thinking of you," he sounds exasperated by the time he finishes.

you feel like smacking yourself in the face. that's why the story felt so familiar and why you had that nagging feeling in the back of your mind. you remember it so clearly now you feel like you could scream. your first day of the first grade. you had been incredibly nervous up until the moment that the teacher asked if anyone knew the valley song. it was your fathers favourite song to sing to you before he passed away, so your hand immediately shot up. singing your father's favourite song instantly calmed you down, and it had been your favourite ever since. you used to sing it to peeta when he would come to you crying after an especially harsh beating from his mother.

your entire body slumps as the embarrassment you were feeling returns tenfold. "oh."

peeta grins at you and it's so bright you can hardly stand to look at it. "oh," he repeats. he gives you a few more moments to collect your thoughts before he continues. "i though you had realised that i was talking about you when you sent me the lyrics to the valley song with the medicine."

the urge to slap yourself silly comes back so hard that your hand twitches at your side. "oh," you say again, closing your eyes and grimace.

"why did you send the lyrics then? it's clear now that you didn't catch on to what i was trying to say, so why?"

your silence has peeta taking another step towards you. he slowly reaches up to cup your cheek and gently nudge your face up to look at him. his brows are raised curiously, but his eyes are as patent as always. and that smile. that fucking smile. he gave it to katniss so many times in the arena because he was thinking about you. it was never hers, in the same was he wasn't. the thought alone has your knees moments away from buckling. almost as if he can tell, his free arm snakes around your waist and pulls you against him. his grip is featherlight, yet you've never felt so secure.

you lean into his touch as you speak, relaxing in his hold for the first time since before his name was reaped.

"i didn't know what to say at first. it felt like the only right thing to say. it's what i would sing to you when you were in pain, and i can't even begin to imagine the amount of pain you were in when you were in the arena. also, the lyrics summarise how i feel about you pretty well," you trail off at the end, suddenly feeling shy once more. your eyes wander away from him, only for peeta to draw them straight back by guiding your face once more.

he looks moments away from crying, bottom lip trembling as he leans his forehead down against yours. the two of you stand there for a moment, bodies pressed against each other so hard that each can feel the others heartbeat pounding against their chest. your hands hesitantly trail up until one is holding the hand against your face and the other rests on his arm.

“you know, i never actually heard your response to me telling you that i love you,” you mutter, your eyes darting back and forth between his eyes and his lips. the tension in the room is so thick you are about to choke on it.

a tear slip from from his eye as he lets out a wet laugh. “if you think there is any way that you could say things like that and i wouldn’t fall head over heels in love with you then you’re crazy. i love you y/n,” the words flow out of him so smoothly that it’s almost like he’s told you this a million times before. it feels so right that it pushes you to do something you have always wanted to; always been to scared to do.

it’s horrifyingly cliche, but the moment you push forward and press your lips to his, fireworks explode throughout your body, setting you alight like peeta had been in the opening ceremony. he pushes back against you just as intensely, the desperation he's feeling as clear through the kiss.

time slips away as you kiss your best friend, the two of you only parting when you run out of air. you pull away slowly, heart leaping when peeta's lips chase yours to give you another short kiss before backing away.

you both stand still, foreheads pressed against one another as you process what just happened. a breathy laugh escapes peeta as he gently rub a thumb against your cheek.

"we could have done that a week ago if you hadn't been so insistent with avoiding me," he laughs. you groan and shake your head.

"i was upset! i thought you had gone after another girl days after i told you that i loved you!" you whine.

"i had to do it! it save my life, didn't it?"

"i guess so, but-" you go to joke back, but peeta shuts you up with a kiss that wipes your mind of anything you were about to say.

when he pulls back he laughs at the stunned look on your face. "i'm going to look forward to shutting you up like that," he teases, snapping you out of the trance he had put you in enough for you to slap his arm.

"shut up!"

he laughs again, pulling you into a tight hug. the two of you rock back and forth. a peace that you have never felt before fills you, and for a moment you wonder if you're dreaming.

"what are you and katniss going to do about the capitol? they believe you're in love," you speak before you think, and you're terrified that you've broken the bubble that the two of had been living in. peeta tenses for a moment before leaning his head against yours.

"i don't know. but whatever happens, i'm not leaving you. never again," he whispers, his breath tingling across your forehead. you can feel his lips against your skin, and without even looking you can tell he's smiling your smile.

you relax back into him, smiling harder than you ever have before. your peeta made it home. and he'd never going to leave you again.

——————

thank you so much for reading!! i can't work out if i like the ending or not, but still i'm pretty happy with this considering i haven't written in years!!

[angrykittenvoid]

You owe me

Warnings: Lucifer being a perv, swearing, dirty talk, lots of sex

Summary: You want to make a pact with Lucifer but he wants something in return: your body.

He thinks you haven’t noticed his strange behaviours towards you, but you have. Staring at you when he thinks you’re not looking. His protective glare over you whenever you talk to one of his brothers. Or even when he’d put his hands on your waist to pass by you and his touch would linger a bit too long. Eventually he started holding your waist every time he’d pass by you even when it wasn’t necessary, and you swear you feel his cock rub against your ass every time.

He’s been wanting to feel you up for the longest time. Spending so many nights with his cock in his fist, moaning your name in ecstasy. Though imagining you under him screaming his name satisfied him enough to reach his climax, it just wasn’t enough. He needed you. The real you. And he wanted to make his fantasies of you a reality.

Lucifer was the last demon brother you needed to make a pact with but he’s been so hard to convince. One day you decide you’re done waiting for the right moment. You barge into his room to just come out and say it. “I want you to make a pact with me”, you say determinedly. Lucifer gets up from his chair and struts towards you with curiosity. “Why are you so adamant on making pacts with my brothers and I?” Of course you can’t tell him the real reason you want to make the pact, he’d be livid if he found out you’re trying to help Belphie escape the attic. “I’m in an entirely new world, I want to be as strong as possible.” You aren’t entirely lying, but you’re not telling the full truth either. Lucifer eyes you suspiciously as he walks closer.

“What’s in it for me?” The smirk on his face grows as a devious plan develops in his head. “What do you mean?” “Well if I’m gonna give you something without knowing your full intentions I might as well get something out of it.” He takes another step closer, making the small gap between you two even smaller.

“Fine, what do you want?” you say anxiously. “…I want to taste you”, he said with nothing but lust in his voice as he pinned you against the wall behind you. You’re now stuck between the wall and a very horny Lucifer towering over you. “I’ll make a pact with you if… I get to fuck you whenever I want for a month.” Your eyes widen in shock. Being a sex slave to a demon for a month?! You’re not sure you could even handle whatever sadistic, sexual tasks Lucifer had in store for you. As you eye him up you look a bit further down his body, noticing his already hard cock making a tent in his pants. Lucifer notices your staring and decides to rub his cock against your pussy. You let out a loud whine. “So what do you say? Wanna be my little play thing for a month?” What other choice do you have? You need to make this pact otherwise the work you put into making the other pacts would’ve all been for nothing. If this is the only way he’ll agree to a pact then so be it. You look up at him nervously and say “deal.” Lucifer has the most devilish grin on his face as he looks at his watch. “Well would you look at that. It’s midnight”, he says closing the gap between you two by kissing you roughly. He shoves his tongue passed your lips, dominating your mouth as he gropes your breast with one hand and your ass with the other.

“Our one month starts now.”

——

Lucifer takes full advantage of this opportunity by bending you over every chance he gets. You just woke up? Early morning, sloppy sex. You’re at school? He’s pulling you into the nearest storage closet. You’re chilling in your room? He’s pulling you into his room where you spend the night being his personal cum dump.

He puts you in every position he can think of. Missionary, downward dog, in front of a mirror, against the wall, and even in his office a couple times. In his right mind he’d be terrified if someone, especially Diavolo, walked in on you two in such an inappropriate position in his office, but he’s so pussy drunk he can’t think straight. All he wants is to feel you around his cock.

——

“L-Lucifer.” That’s the only coherent word you’re able to utter as Lucifer bullies your sensitive cunt. Besides your tired moans, the lewd sound of flesh smacking against flesh is all that can be heard within Lucifer’s bedroom. Earlier, he called your phone, all he said was “My room. Now” and hung up. And because of the deal you made, you couldn’t say no. Not like you’d want to anyway. You love the feeling of the hunky demon assorting his dominance over you and fucking your brains out every night. And now here you are, Lucifer slamming his hips into yours like his life depends on it. Hitting your sweet spot with every thrust as your eyes roll back in pleasure.

If only you could focus your eyes enough to see Lucifer right now, he’s a mess. Face sweaty, hair disheveled, and a string of drool rolling down his chin. “Fuck. You feel so damn good.” He grunts, leaning down to lay a rough kiss on your lips. His thrusts become sloppier as he gets closer to his climax. “Oh Lucifer- p-please make me cum.” Your desperate cries was all it took to push him off the edge, shooting hot streaks of cum straight into your womb. You follow suit as you come around his still hardened cock for what you think is the fifth time tonight.

“Oh baby, we’re only halfway done, remember? You’re still mine for the next 2 weeks. Actually I’m not sure I’ll be willing to let go by then. How about another few weeks? ’Nother few months? I just need to feel your sweet pussy for a bit longer. Damn, your fucked out face is getting me riled up again. You’re tired? Nah, you can handle one more round. Remember, you owe me”, he affirms as his thrusts start to speed up again.

This is gonna be a long night.

—————————————————————————