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roseykat · 1 year ago

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KINKTOBER DAY 14

TITLE: Some things are better left unknown

PAIRINGS: Bang Chan x Felix x reader

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won't be able to regulate every single interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever.

SUMMARY: a threesome with Chanlix where you’re yet to discover a very sobering truth about the pair of them.

TAGS: explicit language, threesome, oral sex (f!reader receiving), porn with plot, use of the name 'baby girl' and 'angel', swearing, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex but protected anal sex, double penetration, big dick!Chan agenda, praise, slight body worship if you squint, kissing/making out.

A/N: Aussie line fucks hard, bye. (If there are mistakes, I will fix them. Currently running on v low sleep)

KINKTOBER23 - MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @mal-lunar-28 @luneskies @queenmea604 @kibs-and-bits @kbitties @aaasia111 @fairy-lixie @dreamingaboutjisung

Milk, nori, rice, raw tuna, coffee, yoghurt, bread, and eggs.

This was all Chan sent you to the supermarket for. All of which could have been easily picked up from the convenience store down the road. Maybe minus the raw tuna which has to be high grade since Chan wanted to make an attempt at onigiri for the first time. However, you would’ve saved an entire trip to the busy supermarket.

Not to mention, grocery shopping sucks in general. At least that is when you’re on your own. In your apartment that you share with your good friends Chan and Felix, two people are responsible for the shopping per week which rotates each time.

If you’re with Felix, sometimes you both tend to muck around. Not to mention forgetting almost a quarter of things on the shopping list which ends in a stern lecture from Chan. On that matter, if you’re with Chan, it’s an in-and-out task at the store in less than ten minutes.

Efficient and practically timeless.

Even though it’s no trivial matter, you manage to get through the pointless shopping before heading home to the apartment. These could’ve been picked up at the convenience store, you think to yourself again. A sigh leaves your lips as you unlock the door, bumping it open further with your hip as you slide your shoes off.

“I’m back. Remind me to buy an umbrella next time-”

Your body freezes on the spot. The bag of items falls from your possession, collapsing onto the floor. Something inside it broke but it’s nowhere near enough a distraction for what is in front of your eyes.

Maybe you need your vision checked because if your eyes weren’t deceiving you, then you wouldn’t have just seen Chan and a topless Felix who are both making out. The two of them sat on the edge of the bed, still lip-locked until they caught onto your presence.

For the few seconds you stood there, rooted to the ground, felt the absolute longest.

Neither of them was as internally panicked as you when they noticed you standing there. Nor did they have hundreds of questions zapping around their brains in the span of a few seconds. It was like your entire vocabulary had turned to dust and were blown away because there were no words to describe what the hell was happening.

Maybe it was a dream.

“T-That was quick,” Chan stammers with an awkward chuckle, breaking away from Felix, almost pretending like nothing just happened.

Felix looked like a complete mess. Dark brown hair mangled - clearly from Chan either running his fingers through it or tugging it - the air gets stuck in your throat with those two theories in mind, painting very interesting visuals and an odd sensation in your stomach.

Chan looked equally dishevelled. There’s a dark red splotch peeking above his collarbone that you had no trouble guessing how it got there. On top of that, his pants were already half undone, and his lips were bitten red and wet, and they both looked so…so…

“What…the fuck…” you manage to speak once your mind has cleared the only one per cent of its capacity to grasp the circumstances.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Felix quickly says as he stands up from Chan’s lap and walks over to you.

It was useless for him to try to take advantage of your shell-shocked state because once your surprise had completely thawed out, your words started coming back to you.

“Oh my god, what am I even doing?” You ask, clamping your hands over your eyes, ready to head right back out of the apartment. “I’m heading out.”

“Wait!” Chan calls out, arm outstretched towards your direction. “You don’t…you don’t have to go. If you want, you can maybe join us. If…if you like.”

Join them? Blindsided by those words, there was no trouble for the difficulty you had in trying to figure out if you heard right or just imagined what Chan said. Why would he ask you that question? But more importantly, why were they hooking up in the first place? It was evident that there had been something going on between Felix and Chan - unless this was just a new one-time thing.

However, even if it wasn’t, you had been left out of the secret. Nonetheless, you quickly came to your senses. Whether they hook up or not is none of your business.

“J-Join you?” You stammer.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Chan emphasises. “It’d be rude to not let you in on the fun.”

You definitely weren’t hearing things, and this wasn’t a dream.

At first, you can’t understand why you’re even considering their request, but there is one piece of information that sprung to mind and that’s your sex life. It hasn’t been entirely sex-filled as you’d like it to be, not to mention your slight lack of experience with threesomes wasn’t vast - but it also wasn’t limited either, especially after that encounter you once had with two of their friends Changbin and Hyunjin on a separate occasion. Although, they didn’t need to know that at all.

That being said, this takes the cake. You can’t even comprehend what Chan or Felix are like in bed but, the opportunity seemed too ridiculously hot to pass up.

“You...you want me to-“

“Like Channie said, if you want,” Lix assures you, interrupting your babbling.

You aren’t somewhat surprised that Felix would ever want a threesome. He’s had sexual partners here and there in the past, multiple ones at a time. However, Chan never struck you as the type to have sex with more than one person. Even after a year of living with him and getting to know him, he’s still pretty private and exclusive.

With the matter at hand and the more you think about the prospect in front of you, you aren’t opposed to the idea. So with your brain taking full control of your body, you hesitantly step over the discarded groceries lying on the ground. This is happening. Felix picks up on the right cue and extends his hand out to you as you take it gently.

He guides you over to the edge of the bed where Chan is still sitting, but as you’re led over, he rises to his feet. There were a few seconds where you’re a little bit bewildered by what’s going on, but when you look into Chan’s dark eyes and as he takes your free hand, you become more centred.

Before you know it, he leans down to kiss you and kisses you good. You’ve never felt anything like it and as Felix releases your hand and sneaks behind your body, your mind starts turning into jelly. He gently swipes your hair to the other side of your shoulder while his other hand freely roams around your waist, underneath your shirt to feel the heat of your skin. His mouth places chaste kisses from your shoulder up to your neck.

It feels so heavenly to be sandwiched between them; Felix kissing, biting softly over your skin while Chan continues to explore your mouth. It was impossible to think that just a few minutes ago, you were at the grocery store and now a complete world shift just seems to be occurring within that time frame.

Chan breaks away from you for a second, kissing you tenderly one last time before sitting back down on the bed and moving up to the headboard. God this is really happening. You’re too deep in it now to not follow him like a lost, yet obedient puppy. You can see that he’s hard and want to touch him so badly but-

“Sit between me and face towards Felix,” he instructs before you can even reach for him.

Your cheeks burn. While you have no idea what’s entirely in store, your body is getting excited and very obviously, so is Felix. He crawls over to you once you’re snug in between Chan’s legs before he tugs your shirt up from the hem and tosses it aside. Then, he finds your lips and kisses you until you have to silently beg and chase him for it.

Squirming in place, you feel hot and subjugated by Chan sitting behind you - snaking and trailing his hands around your now half-bare body, and Felix in front of him, who’s now gone on to give his supposed man some attention too.

He’s up on his knees with his body so close to you that you can feel the heat from him. Chan tilts his head up from resting on your shoulder and lets Felix take what he wants. The slick wet sounds of them both kissing along with the tiny moans you can feel in your ear, makes you shiver all over. You’re only still comprehending this all, that this is still actually happening.

“So needy,” Chan says as he breaks away from him, inches away from his face when Felix hears and feels you unbuckling his belt. He straightens back up and consumes how flustered you are, observing the way you blink up at him pleadingly, displaying how badly you want it now.

Felix smirks, gently grabbing your face with one hand and lowering down just enough to kiss you senseless again. But he cannot stray away from his other plans so frees himself from your lips to help slide your pants off down and discards them to the side.

Immediately, you can see where this is going.

“Aw, look how bad you want it,” Felix comments, swiping his thumb over the damp spot of your underwear with enough pressure for you to muffle a whine by biting down on your lip. You do want it bad and already seem to be losing a fight to the pleasure Felix is barely giving you.

“Don’t tease her too much,” Chan cautions.

Felix doesn’t seem to hear the warning for him as he helps you shimmy your underwear down. From there, Chan takes over. He hooks both of his legs over yours and separates them to not just expose you for Felix but to hold you down for what’s about to unfold.

Heat accelerates through your cheeks as you feel embarrassed. At this point, your brain hasn’t caught up with the fact that you never show this much skin, let alone any skin in front of either of them. But that was going to be an afterthought for you when Felix distracts your mind by gently prying your legs open from your bent knees.

Pathetic whimpers slip past your lips as Felix lies down on his stomach, his face inches away from your pussy while he pets and glides his two fingers in between your folds.

Your head shoots back onto Chan’s shoulder, very narrowly missing his face, “f-fuck…oh my god.”

Without warning, you feel the tip of Felix’s tongue lap a few times over your clit. If it weren’t for Chan acting as a human restraint to hold you down, there would’ve been a solid chance of you lurching forward. His arms are still wrapped around your abdomen, preventing you from moving forward so that you can take what Felix is giving you.

It’s cruel, but Chan thinks it’s necessary for you to feel everything. Which you do when your hands grip each of Chan’s thighs, nearly squashing him backwards between you and the wall.

“How does it feel?” he asks you.

“F-Felix, mmm-” you breathe out his name, unable to answer properly and feel some vibrations from Chan’s chest to suggest that he was chuckling. Mainly at the fact that you weren’t able to directly answer his question.

But it’s not long until the room quickly fills with your whimpers and moans mingled with the beautiful wet sounds as Felix keeps eating out your pussy. Tingly sensations spread like wildfire throughout every cell in your body from his mouth. It’s gradually becoming impracticable to keep up with his tongue. Not that you’ve ever imagined it before, but he does give good oral, good enough to put your breathing pace out of whack when he sucks on your clit.

He’s not afraid of enjoying himself either. You can hear and feel his moans reverberate throughout your lower half. It even adds to the sensation of bliss that’s forming a knot in the pit of your stomach. So even though you don’t know, this is as good for Felix as it is for you. To him, it’s like going to heaven.

What you also didn’t seem to know was when Chan unclasped your bra from behind your back and placed it to the side. His hands went from just holding you to now groping and playing with your tits as your body continued to melt into Felix’s mouth.

“You’re loud aren’t you?” Chan whispers in your ear, rolling both of your nipples in between his thumbs and fingers to make you mewl and squirm. The different methods of pleasure send interesting messages to your brain that only make that crest of ecstasy build higher.

You can only mewl until coherent words appear in his brain and out through his mouth, “s-sorry.”

Felix’s head game is so ridiculously mind-blowing that it makes you forget what language you speak.

Chan chuckles, purring into your ear, “don’t be sorry. You just can’t help it can you?”

His hand circles up to your jaw, tilting it towards his face. He confirms in his mind how much of a mess you are. Cheeks stained pink with a fucked up expression that reads ‘I need more’, to which Chan reaches down and kisses you, sloppy and lazy.

The velvety feel of your mouth when you open up more is slick with warmth. It’s starting to become more obvious how close you are when you start moaning repeatedly into Chan’s mouth.

“I’m going to fuck you after this,” he breaks away, just inches from his lips again.

You never would’ve guessed that Chan was even capable of forming such a dirty sentence. Then again, you never would’ve guessed that you would ever be in the position that you’re in now - having a threesome with your two housemates.

“I’m…you’re gonna make me cum,” you sob, turning your head towards Chan on his shoulder, almost as if you were trying to escape the expansion of euphoria. He couldn’t help but kiss your forehead, waiting for you to brace for that wave.

“Yeah?” Chan rouses. “Want to cum for us baby girl?”

You nod, too helpless to form an answer when you’re on the cusp of a forceful orgasm. He underestimated the strength he needed to hold you down, especially when you’re about to cum. So just when he needed to add more force, your body stiffens. Your legs so desperately crave to clamp around Felix’s head to help triage the pleasure, but it’s no use when Chan has you completely locked in.

Your eyelids flutter, head pressing back further into Chan’s shoulder, “yes! I’m cumming!”

With ragged, heavy breathing, the all-consuming pleasure takes you by the throat as the pleasure surges without control. Even though you’re being held down, it doesn’t stop your body from quivering. It lasts for what feels like an entire minute – one of the best orgasms you think you’ve ever experienced.

Felix’s tongue slows down to a snail's pace, licking a few final stripes before kissing his way up your body, from your clit, abdomen, and then up to the base of your throat. His chin glistens as he adorns a smug smile.

“Fuck…” you sigh out defeatedly, the aftermath of experiencing a volume of pleasure was starting to take its toll. “Oh my god.”

Chan kisses the side of your head, “sound so beautiful when you cum. Lix, switch with me so I can fuck her, yeah?”

“Wait-“ you pause, trying to reorient yourself as you hold onto Chan’s forearm for support. “I wanna ride you.”

Felix looks down at you, “you sure angel? Channie isn’t exactly small.”

From that statement alone, it was obvious to you that Felix was speaking from experience, a strong indication that they had in fact mucked around at least once in the past if not multiple times. But it didn’t matter if Chan or Felix for that matter was packing twelve inches, you needed to have something inside you to tame that need of feeling full.

“I want to ride you-“ you nod to Chan – “but I want you to fuck me at the same time-“ you indicate towards Felix.

Neither of them expected you to be into that. Then again, they didn’t necessarily expect you to join them in bed either so anything was a surprise to them at this point. Chan and Felix can’t deny how insanely hot it is to hear you not only ask for them to do something but specifically ask you to do that.

“Are you sure baby?” Chan has to ask you for assurance.

“I can…I can take both of you.”

Still stunned at your answer, Felix ushers to Chan, “you heard her.”

He cannot lie and say that he’s not excited, because he is – they both are. So while Felix goes into the bedside table for a condom and lube, you move yourself off of Chan, turn around and start unbuckling his belt and helping him take his jeans off, almost like you’re in a rush. The imprint of his hard dick is enough to make your mouth water, and as Felix said, Chan definitely isn’t small.

“Easy, I’m not going anywhere,” he chuckles, reorienting himself on the bed so that his head is on the pillow.

Felix returns with the items he needs to help prep you, taking it as a sign to straddle over Chan’s legs and slowly tug his black boxers down. His cock springs onto his abdomen, the dark pink tip reaching just under his belly button. He had to be at least eight inches. Maybe just under, just.

“Ready angel?” Felix asks, kneeling behind you as you straddle Chan. The position would allow you to not only ride Chan but to take Felix from behind too, a dream so delicious that you can’t help but wonder how it was still all possible.

“Yes,” you mutter.

“Okay then,” he replies.

Chan then holds the base of his cock steady for you, watching you slowly take those eight inches. The tip of his dick gently slots into your pussy, taking your time with sinking down. The warm heat engulfs his length, already sending shockwaves throughout his lower half.

“That’s it, baby,” Chan says encouragingly, his fingertips delicately massaging over the skin of your things. “Good girl.”

You bite down on your bottom lip at the extraordinary stretch. In the meantime, Felix squirts a dollop of the lube onto his fingers to warm it up a bit before applying it to your hole.

He thumbs over it, sending shivers up your spine. It’s vital to him to make sure that you’re prepped well for him to fuck your ass. So he starts small by slowly inserting the tip of his finger, before gradually using slow yet long strokes, enough to make your head loll back.

Felix has to express in awe when he sees the result of your efforts to fully envelope Chan’s length, “look at that. You took all of him, angel.”

You know very well that you have because you can feel him in places that other men in your past haven’t reached. The stretch still sings a bit but it could easily be confused with the gorgeous satisfaction of Chan filling you right out.

“So…big,” you strain out, scratching your nails down Chan’s abdomen, almost like a cat, just not as painful.

Meanwhile, as Felix has slowly been stretching your hole out with his fingers, he uses his teeth and his free hand to peel the foil back of the condom packet. He had already freed himself from his jeans when he went to reach for the lube beside the bed so was hard and ready to roll the condom down his cock.

“M’ready Lix,” you say to him, unable to see the smile you brought to his face from how eager you are.

“I know baby, just one second,” he replies before aligning his cock with your hole.

Very carefully and slowly, he starts pushing his tip in. Your eyes flutter shut, steadying your breathing in the process in preparation to take all of him as well. Chan rubs up and down your arm, distracting you from the temporary sting. With the lube doing its job, Felix can continue to push in at a leisurely pace right until he has the majority of his cock wrapped up by you.

“Doing so well Y/N,” Chan says reassuringly. “Just stay like this for a bit until you’re ready to move yeah?”

You nod, allowing your body and muscles to relax and ease into the pleasure that’s starting to fade out the burn. It’s difficult to comprehend a fuller feeling than this; to have two cocks stuffed in you to the hilt, and after a few moments of getting used to it, you slowly start to move.

“Mmm, yes fuck,” you sigh with satisfaction, using your hands on Chan’s abdomen to steady your body as you being to move your hips. “You both…feel so fucking good inside me.”

Your words were difficult for Felix to not listen to who was trying to ward off from thrusting for a little bit until you were comfortable with him starting to fuck you. It wasn’t until your movements became a bit quicker that he began to catch up to your pace. Very quickly did the room turn into a space brimming with moans, wet sounds, and the sound of skin slapping. It was plenty to add to the intense sensation you were hurtling towards.

Chan’s eyes are fixated on watching your pussy swallow his cock with every long stroke you take on him, “oh my god.”

With his tank top still on, Chan lifts it by the hem and holds onto it with his teeth. It wasn’t just to make sure that your hands weren’t going to be slipping on him as you use his abdomen to support yourself when you rock down, but it was also to restrict a whole bunch of moans that were about to rip through his chest. But even that couldn’t put a lid on the groans and growls rumbling from him.

“Taking us both so well angel,” Felix says exasperatedly in your ear.

His deep yet velvety voice has you leaning back slightly so that half of your back is pressed against his chest. With the help of you turning your head towards his face, Felix’s mouth crashes onto yours, almost tasting the remnants of yourself from before. He kisses you passionately, moaning into your mouth like he’s going to die if he doesn’t.

“Fucking perfect,” he growls, diverging from your mouth to dive into your neck to suck a few hickies in and groping your tits from behind. “Can’t get enough of you dammit.”

You sob out as he pinches your nipples, but also when Chan reaches down to your pussy, finds your clit and begins to rub in perfect motions, “god – fuck, I can’t…s’too much!”

Their cocks hit spots so phenomenally that each time they stroke over them, your holes involuntarily clench around them. Not to mention the total stimulation they were feeding you.

Felix’s hips haven’t faltered since they started pumping forward into your ass. The upward curvature of his cock seemed to be scratching the part of your brain that is responsible for making your eyes roll back. Chan’s dick on the other hand had you shaking. The length and girth were sickeningly satisfying.

“Not gonna last,” you whine, still keeping up the same pace when you rock down on Chan and feel Felix continue to thrust in and out. “So close…”

The hem of Chan’s shirt is long gone from his mouth, already given up on trying to suppress whatever was going to come out, “gonna cum for us again, huh? Such a good girl, taking us both at the same time.”

Chan couldn’t lie either, but he was close a long time ago, probably the second you decided that you wanted to ride him. Felix happened to be on the same page. He couldn’t get over this entire situation, finding it so fucking hot that even just a dream of it would be a blessing.

Words start to slip away from your brain once more. Aside from your orgasm swimming towards an astronomical high, you try to cling to that amazing feeling before it eventually disappears. But all good things come to an end. Your nails dig into Chan’s thighs while Felix has one arm barred just under your chest as the other hand doesn’t let up on your nipple. It throws your pace off balance and staggers your breathing when you start reaching that very pinnacle of euphoria.

“Yes! Fuck, I’m cumming!” You scream out.

Your thighs clamp around the frame of Chan’s lower half, shaking and shivering in place as the pleasure reaches its apex. Felix didn’t let up on his pace, fucking you all through your orgasm as Chan replaces your motions by fucking upwards and into you. Both of your holes spasm and contract around their dicks, enough to actually make them cum by the time you’ve reached the height of your orgasm.

“I’m gonna cum, holy fuck, s’too good,” Felix’s head rests on your back, watching his cock disappear in and out of you before he starts to bust inside of the condom. His fingernails brutally dig into your hips when he cums.

Your moans easily fill up the room once more now that you have no choice but to succumb to the euphoria when your orgasm hits its hardest. Chan’s head tips back further into the pillow, eyes screwed tight shut as he’s hit with a tsunami of pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he exclaims loudly, his chest heaving up and down as he spills inside of you. He’s lucky that he did because as the pleasure reached a point where it was too much for you to bear, you slowly lean forward towards Chan, their cocks sliding out of you in the process.

On each exhale your body shudders, like the surges of aftershocks while the pleasure slowly plateaus. From this angle, Felix can still see you contracting, watching Chan’s cum leak from your pussy. If he wasn’t so fucked out, he would’ve had the energy to eat you out again.

In saying that, he is the first to recover and come to his senses a bit faster than either you or Chan. He takes the condom off, ties it, and discards it in the rubbish bin in the corner of the room before putting his boxers back on. Meanwhile, you’re still panting trying to catch your breath, resting on top of Chan’s body, you feel his hand run soothingly up and down your spine.

“Such a good girl for us,” he says caringly. “Felt so good.”

Felix sits beside you both at the top of the bed. He cards a gentle hand through your hair, observing your distant expression, “you there baby?”

You blink up at him and nod, your brain still trying to process that sort of orgasm.

“When you’re ready, we’ll get you cleaned up yeah?” He smiles softly down at you.

As the minutes ticked by, Felix lent you a helping hand to stand up when you were ready. Even though you were wobbly on your feet, he still guided you to the bathroom and ran a nice hot shower. Both Felix and Chan joined you in a bid to make sure you knew that they were there, dousing you with as much praise as an individual could get – and they meant every word.

When you were ready to hop out, Chan fetched you one of his warm jerseys and placed it straight over your body before telling you to hop in his bed while he went to gather up the towels and clothes from the bathroom. Just as he was picking up the last items, Felix caught him right as he was about to walk out.

“She okay?” Chan asks him.

Felix nods reassuringly, “out like a light.”

“Alright then,” he sighs contently. “She’ll probably be asleep for the rest of the day.”

“Mm,” he hums, staring at a space just to the side of Chan who picks up on the subtle behaviour.

“Is there something wrong?” Chan asks as a slight concern balloons in his chest.

“When are you going to tell her?” Felix asks.

Chan stares at him, trying to figure out what he means, “tell her what?”

He rolls his eyes and chuckles, “that you like her, idiot. That we like her.”

That had been a distant thought for Chan for some time. The possibility of that ever working out between the three of you seemed like a long shot. You only all slept together. There was no depth to it other than that even though deep down, Chan would’ve liked it to be for the sole purpose that he likes you. But it’s not just him.

It’s also the one standing at the doorframe, staring right back at Chan; Felix.

#rosiewritesskz #stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know smut #han jisung smut #bang chan smut #hyunjin smut #changbin smut #felix smut #i.n smut #chanlix #bang chan x reader #felix x reader #chanlix x reader

2K notes · View notes

levandright · 23 days ago

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And oh, how I'd love to go Paris again

pairing : jake x f!reader ୨ৎ content / warning(s) : non-idol au, love at first sight, fluff, strangers to friends to lovers(not stated but heavily implied), tension, they're in love your honor, fate reference/mention, can be read as either hs or uni au its up to you ୨ৎ word count : 5.9k

synopsis. you're overwhelmed with your school finals close by, while you are taking a short break from your studying, you couldn't help but reminisce about your precious memories in the city of love when a song that reminds you of your time in paris play. ୨ৎ lev notes : the class trip may not be 100% accurate but its for the plot okay... i had to make it inspired by the 1975 cause i love them too much not to do so + it fits with how i literally have them as my top artist this year :3 (i started writing this days earlier before spotify wrapped lol) also i literally had paris on loop for like 7 hours in total while writing this... anyways hope y'all like this cause it took a lot of brain power to write it, trust i will post what the heart wants as soon as i finish a surprise fic im working on rn ꒰⠀for @sugarikiz event 'ʏᴏᴜʀ ℰ𝓎ℯ𝓈 ᴏɴʟʏ ☁︎.𖥔 ' ꒱

you're at your school's library, cramming for your upcoming finals. with a little over a week to prepare for months' worth of lessons across multiple subjects, the pressure is taking quite a toll on you. two cups of coffee sit beside your laptop, one already empty. even though you've been studying for less than 40 minutes, you already feel the urge to down all the caffeine left in front of you just to keep from dozing off again.

sigh, 'just gotta finish this whole powerpoint. then, i can finally relax for a bit' you silently hype yourself out. with the reward of a break for an hour of studying, you quickly go through the entire lesson in a flash.

grabbing the not empty cup of coffee, you take a much needed sip to keep yourself awake for more hours of studying.

a while later, you're stretching in your seat after having finished with that specific powerpoint. 'finally i can take a break' you think to yourself

as you sit, and stare at your laptop's screen. contimplating on what to do to pass time, you decide to play music to relax yourself.

clicking the shuffle button on your playlist. you put your headphones on and rest your head on your arms, as the familiar tune of paris by the 1975 play.

the music pulls you into a memory, that unforgettable class trip to paris.

꒰ and oh, how i'd love to go paris again ꒱

you’re on the bus, the city outside the window slowly coming to life. everyone in your class is chatting excitedly, pointing out landmarks and planning what to do when you finally get off. the eiffel tower is getting closer, its towering frame making your heart race with excitement.

“can you believe we’re actually here?” keeho says, leaning over to nudge your shoulder. his energy is infectious, and you can’t help but smile.

hyunjin, sitting across the aisle, snaps a quick photo through the window. “this already feels unreal,” he says, grinning. “i’m going to fill my camera roll today.”

the bus comes to a stop, and your teacher announces a short break to explore the area. the three of you quickly stick together as everyone spills out onto the cobblestone street. paris feels alive—the air smells like fresh bread and coffee, and the chatter of locals blends with the hum of passing cars.

“we need food. let’s find a café!” keeho declares, already marching toward a row of cozy-looking places with outdoor seating.

you follow, laughing as hyunjin drags you by the wrist to keep up. he’s scanning every building, taking quick snapshots of anything that catches his eye. “wait, stand here,” he says suddenly, pulling out his phone to snap a candid photo of you and keeho in front of a flower shop.

“are you going to take pictures the whole trip?” you tease.

“obviously,” hyunjin replies, unbothered. “someone has to document how good we look in paris.”

eventually, the three of you settle at a small café. the waiter brings over menus, and you all take a moment to soak it all in. keeho orders a slice of cake, hyunjin gets a croissant and coffee, and you decide on a simple baguette sandwich.

“okay, this is officially the best food i’ve ever had,” keeho says after his first bite.

“it’s just cake,” hyunjin says, rolling his eyes but stealing a forkful anyway.

you laugh as they bicker, feeling a warmth settle in your chest. sitting there with your best friends, surrounded by the magic of paris, everything feels perfect.

after finishing your meals, you and your friends head back to the bus to regroup with your class. the energy is buzzing as everyone talks about their plans for the rest of the day. your teacher announces that the next stop is a famous museum nearby.

the museum is grand, with high ceilings and beautiful architecture that makes you feel small in the best way. inside, it’s quieter, with your classmates dispersing into smaller groups.

hyunjin immediately pulls out his camera again. “this lighting is perfect,” he mutters, snapping a photo of a sculpture in the corner.

keeho rolls his eyes with a smirk. “he’s gonna be like this the whole time.”

“he’s consistent, at least,” you joke, earning a laugh from keeho as the two of you start wandering through the exhibits together.

the artwork is stunning—paintings that feel alive, sculptures that seem to breathe. you and keeho take your time strolling through the halls, sharing your thoughts on each piece.

“i don’t get this one,” keeho says, staring at an abstract painting.

“it’s open to interpretation,” you reply.

“so… the artist spilled paint everywhere?”

you nudge his arm. “be serious!”

keeho grins but then glances around. “hey, i’m gonna find the bathroom real quick. don’t get lost.”

“sure, sure,” you say, waving him off.

as he walks away, you wander aimlessly, letting your feet carry you through the museum’s winding halls. you stop to admire a large painting of a serene countryside when, out of nowhere, you bump into someone.

“oh, i’m so sorry!” you blurt out, taking a step back.

the stranger turns to you, and your words catch in your throat. he’s tall, with warm eyes and a gentle smile. his presence feels calm, yet somehow magnetic.

“no worries,” he says, his voice warm and calm, with a hint of an australian accent you catch right away. “are you okay?”

you nod quickly, feeling your cheeks heat up. “y-yeah, i wasn’t looking where i was going.”

he chuckles lightly, brushing it off. “happens to the best of us.”

he pauses for a moment, as if waiting to see if you’ll say anything else. you manage a small smile. “thanks for being so nice about it. i’m—uh…” before you can finish, keeho’s voice rings out from somewhere nearby.

“hey, y/n! where’d you go?”

the spell is broken, and you glance over your shoulder to see keeho waving at you. turning back to the stranger, you offer an apologetic smile. “that’s my friend. i should go.”

“of course,” he says, still smiling. “take care.”

you hurry off toward keeho, your heart still racing. as you rejoin your friends, you glance back briefly to see the stranger walking away. something about the moment lingers, a small spark you can’t quite explain.

after regrouping with keeho and hyunjin, the three of you continue exploring the museum. hyunjin has finally tucked his camera away, much to keeho’s relief.

“didn’t think i’d ever see the day you’d stop taking pictures,” keeho teases.

“i’m just saving space for later,” hyunjin retorts, grinning. “besides, i want to actually enjoy this.”

the three of you move through the museum, pausing at different exhibits. keeho offers more of his hilarious “critiques,” while hyunjin points out details you might’ve missed. for a while, it feels like time doesn’t exist, just the three of you soaking in the beauty of parisian art.

after some time, you excuse yourself to find the restroom. as you leave, keeho calls after you, “don’t get lost again!”

“i won’t!” you call back with a laugh, shaking your head.

once you step out of the restroom, you turn a corner and nearly bump into someone again.

“oh—sorry!” you start, looking up. and there he is.

the boy from earlier.

“you again,” he says with a warm smile, his eyes lighting up with recognition.

“yeah, me again,” you reply, feeling your face heat up.

“i guess we’re just destined to keep running into each other,” he jokes, his tone light and teasing.

you laugh softly. “seems like it. i never got your name earlier.”

“jake,” he says, extending his hand. “and you?”

“y/n,” you say, shaking his hand. his grip is gentle but firm, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

“nice to officially meet you, y/n,” jake says, his smile widening.

the two of you start chatting, the conversation flowing easily. he tells you he’s here with his own group, visiting from another school all the way from australia, and you share a little about your own trip. his voice is calm and steady, and his subtle humor keeps making you giggle.

at one point, he gestures toward a nearby painting. “what do you think of this one? please don’t say the artist spilled paint everywhere.”

you burst into laughter, shaking your head. “no, no, that’s keeho’s specialty. i actually think it’s kind of beautiful, in a chaotic way.”

“good answer,” jake says, grinning.

before you know it, the sound of footsteps and familiar voices echo down the hall. “y/n! where are you?” keeho calls, his voice unmistakable.

you glance in the direction of the sound, then back at jake, your smile faltering slightly. “that’s my friends. i should go.”

jake nods, his expression soft. “of course. it was nice talking to you, y/n.”

“you too, jake,” you say, stepping away reluctantly. as you walk toward your friends, you can’t help but glance back once. jake is still standing there, giving you a small wave.

you rejoin keeho and hyunjin, who immediately start teasing you for taking so long. but as the three of you continue exploring the museum, you can’t stop thinking about jake. and though you don’t say it out loud, you quietly hope that fate will bring you together again.

it’s been a day since the museum, but your thoughts keep circling back to jake. his kind smile, the way he made you laugh, and that unmistakable australian accent—it’s all stuck in your head.

after dinner with your classmates at the hotel, the buzz of chatter feels overwhelming. you decide to step outside for some fresh air, hoping a quiet walk will help clear your mind.

the streets of paris are calmer at this hour, bathed in a soft, golden glow from the streetlights. a small park just down the road catches your eye, and you wander toward it, settling onto a bench beneath a tree.

you sit there for a while, letting your thoughts drift. the cool breeze carries the faint scent of flowers, and the distant hum of city life feels oddly soothing.

suddenly, you feel someone sit down beside you. you glance over, and your heart skips a beat.

it’s him.

jake.

the boy you couldn’t stop thinking about.

he notices your surprise and gives you that same warm smile. “hey,” he says casually. “fancy seeing you here.”

you blink, struggling to process the coincidence. “jake? what are you doing here?”

“could ask you the same thing,” he says with a light chuckle, leaning back against the bench. “i was out for a walk, saw this park, and thought i’d sit for a bit. didn’t expect to run into you again.”

you laugh softly, shaking your head. “paris must be smaller than we think.”

“or fate has a funny way of working,” he says, his tone teasing but his eyes sincere.

the conversation flows naturally from there. he asks about your class trip, and you tell him about your visit to the museum and all the places your group plans to see next. he shares stories about his own class, laughing about his friends’ antics and the moments that make the trip memorable.

“you’re telling me someone actually fell asleep in front of the mona lisa?” you ask, barely holding back laughter.

“yup. full-on snoring,” jake replies, grinning. “the security guard didn’t know whether to wake him or leave him there.”

the two of you laugh together, the sound blending into the quiet of the park.

after a while, jake stands up. “wait here,” he says, his tone playful but mysterious.

“where are you going?” you ask, watching him walk toward a nearby food stand.

“you’ll see,” he calls back over his shoulder.

a few minutes later, he returns, holding two neatly wrapped chocolate crepes. he hands one to you with a grin. “figured this would make the moment even better.”

you take it, smiling at his thoughtfulness. “thanks, jake. this is perfect.”

as you both sit there, enjoying the crepes and chatting under the parisian sky, you can’t help but feel like this moment is something straight out of a dream.

the days in paris pass like a blur, filled with sightseeing, laughter, and the magic of simply being in the city. but the most unexpected highlight of your trip that osn’t on the schedule—is jake.

you can’t quite explain it, but somehow, you keep running into him. these little moments have become the thing you secretly look forward to the most.

────୨ৎ────

you’re standing at the counter of a small café, debating between ordering a croissant or a pain au chocolat. the decision feels monumental, and you’re entirely lost in thought when a voice interrupts you.

“go for the pain au chocolat,” jake says, appearing beside you with an easy smile.

you blink, startled at first, before breaking into a grin. “jake? what are you doing here?”

“getting breakfast,” he says, holding up a cup of coffee and a bag. “didn’t think i’d see you again so soon.”

“neither did i,” you reply, chuckling. “are you always this lucky, or is paris just this small?”

“maybe both,” he teases. “need help deciding?”

“i was leaning toward the croissant, but now i feel like i have to trust your judgment.”

“always trust the chocolate,” he says, nodding sagely.

you laugh and order the pain au chocolat. as you wait, the two of you chat, his humor making the simple café feel like the best spot in paris.

────୨ৎ────

a couple of days later, you’re wandering through a mall with keeho and hyunjin, trying to find souvenirs to take back home. keeho is busy debating between two scarves for his mom, and hyunjin is glued to his phone, looking up recommendations.

you drift toward a small kiosk filled with handmade trinkets, running your fingers over delicate keychains.

“don’t tell me you’re buying one of those cheesy eiffel tower keychains,” a familiar voice says behind you.

you spin around, your heart skipping a beat. “jake!”

he’s holding a bag of his own, filled with souvenirs. “fancy meeting you here.”

“again,” you add with a laugh.

keeho spots jake and gives you a knowing look, while hyunjin just raises an eyebrow before wandering off. you try to ignore them and focus on jake instead.

“what’s in the bag?” you ask, nodding toward his purchases.

“just some stuff for my family,” he says. “and maybe a keychain or two.”

you laugh. “i thought you were against cheesy keychains.”

“only when other people buy them,” he says, his grin mischievous.

────୨ৎ────

the park has become your little escape, a quiet place to think and reflect. you’re sitting on the same bench as before, lost in thought, when you hear footsteps approach.

“do you have a permanent spot here, or are you waiting for me?” jake’s voice breaks through your daydream.

you turn, smiling as he sits down beside you. “maybe both.”

“lucky me, then,” he says, leaning back and looking up at the sky. “so, what’s on your mind today?”

you hesitate for a moment, then decide to be honest. “just… thinking about how much i’ve enjoyed this trip. and how strange it’ll feel to leave.”

jake nods, his expression softening. “yeah, i get that. it’s been a lot, hasn’t it?”

“yeah,” you say quietly, and for a moment, the two of you sit in comfortable silence.

that evening. your teacher gathers the entire class in the lobby of the hotel to deliver the news.

“you’ve got two days left to enjoy paris before we head back home,” she says. “make sure you start packing your things and grab any last-minute souvenirs.”

the room fills with murmurs of excitement and relief. most of your classmates are thrilled to return to canada, and part of you is, too. but as you head back to your room, a bittersweet feeling settles in your chest.

two more days. that’s all the time you have left before you have to say goodbye to jake.

you don’t know why the thought stings so much, but it does. and now, more than ever, you hope for one more chance to see him.

────୨ৎ────

the second-to-last day in paris feels like a blur of excitement and nostalgia. you, keeho, and hyunjin make it a mission to visit as many places as possible, squeezing every last drop out of your remaining time in the city.

as the three of you step into the vintage store, you're greeted by the faint smell of aged leather and a mix of retro music playing softly in the background. the shop is packed with everything from old records to racks of vintage clothes and shelves lined with random knick-knacks.

“okay,” keeho announces, clapping his hands together. “this is the place to find hidden gems.”

hyunjin raises an eyebrow. “hidden gems or overpriced junk?”

“you just don’t have the vision,” keeho shoots back, already digging through a rack of jackets.

you wander toward a glass display case near the counter, something catching your eye—a vintage digicam. it’s small, sleek, and looks like it’s been well cared for. you kneel to get a closer look, curiosity piqued.

“hey, what’d you find?” keeho asks, appearing beside you with a leopard-print scarf draped around his neck.

you point to the camera. “a digicam. looks pretty cool, doesn’t it?”

keeho leans in, inspecting it. “very cool. are you gonna get it?”

you hesitate. “i don’t know… do you think it still works?”

“only one way to find out,” hyunjin says, suddenly appearing on your other side. he gestures to the shop owner, a kind-looking older man, who unlocks the case and hands you the camera.

you examine it closely, turning it over in your hands. the lens looks clean, and the buttons feel intact.

“how much?” you ask the shop owner.

“twenty euros,” he replies with a smile.

keeho gasps dramatically. “a steal! you have to get it.”

“yeah, before someone else does,” hyunjin agrees, casually flipping through a rack of shirts.

you laugh at their enthusiasm and decide to go for it. “alright, fine. i’m buying it.”

as you hand over the cash, keeho strikes another pose with the scarf. “what do you think? parisian chic, or should i stick to my usual?”

“stick to your usual,” hyunjin says without looking up.

keeho sighs, draping the scarf back onto the rack. “you two have no appreciation for drama.”

you test out the digicam, snapping a quick photo of keeho mid-pout. the image pops up on the tiny screen, surprisingly crisp for something so old.

“perfect,” you say, showing him the photo.

keeho grins. “okay, maybe you do have an eye for the dramatic.”

hyunjin wanders over with an oversized sweater, holding it up against himself. “thoughts?”

keeho wrinkles his nose. “are you auditioning for a grandpa role?”

“i like it,” you say, defending hyunjin’s choice.

“thank you,” hyunjin replies, smugly tossing the sweater over his arm.

the three of you spend a bit longer in the shop, goofing around and trying on random hats, sunglasses, and jackets. you snap more photos with your new camera—keeho wearing an old captain’s hat, hyunjin attempting to look cool in aviator sunglasses, and a candid shot of the two of them laughing together.

by the time you leave, the bag with your new camera swings lightly at your side, and your heart feels full. the memory of this moment—just you and your friends being unapologetically yourselves—already feels like a keepsake all its own.

at a small crêperie, hyunjin’s crêpe is covered in whipped cream and chocolate drizzle.

“how are you even holding that without it falling apart?” you ask, staring at the overloaded treat in wonder.

hyunjin shrugs. “skill,” he says simply before taking an enormous bite.

keeho watches in horror. “that’s going to end up all over your shirt, and i am not letting you borrow mine.”

“you sound like my mom,” hyunjin says through a mouthful of crêpe.

by the seine river, you take turns with the digicam, capturing moments that feel like they belong in a movie. keeho makes exaggerated poses on the bridge, while hyunjin tries (and fails) to look mysterious.

when it’s your turn to hold the camera, you take a candid shot of the two of them mid-laugh. it’s perfect—pure and genuine, a reminder of how much these moments mean to you.

“alright, photographer extraordinaire,” keeho says, pointing dramatically at the eiffel tower in the distance. “get my good side.”

“you don’t have one,” hyunjin jokes, earning a glare from keeho.

as the day winds down, you find yourself lingering outside the hotel while keeho and hyunjin head inside.

“we’ll be in the lobby if you need us,” keeho calls over his shoulder, giving you a knowing look.

once they’re gone, you make your way to the park. the same bench, the same tree, and this time, jake is already there, waiting.

he stands when he sees you, his smile soft but bright. “hey.”

“hey,” you reply, walking up to him. “beat me here this time, huh?”

“had a feeling you’d come,” he says, shrugging.

you sit down beside him, the quiet of the park wrapping around you like a blanket.

“you’ve been busy,” jake comments. “i saw you earlier near the seine with your friends. looked like fun.”

“it was,” you say, smiling at the memory. “trying to cram everything into one day, you know? time feels so short now.”

jake’s expression shifts, just slightly, and you know he understands what you mean.

“speaking of time…” you begin, hesitating. “we’re leaving tomorrow. my class is flying back home.”

jake nods slowly, his gaze dropping to his hands. “i figured it was coming. my group leaves the day after.”

there’s a pause, the kind that feels heavy but not uncomfortable.

“do you think we’ll meet again?” you ask softly, not daring to look at him.

“i hope we do,” he replies, his voice quiet but firm.

the weight of his words lingers between you, saying everything that neither of you can.

you pull out your digicam, breaking the tension with a small smile. “can i take some pictures? you know, to remember this?”

jake’s face brightens slightly. “of course.”

you snap a few shots—some posed, some candid. jake laughing at something you said, jake looking off into the distance, and finally, one of the two of you together, taken with his help.

as the night deepens, you know it’s time to go. you stand, reluctantly. “i should get back before my friends come looking for me.”

jake nods but doesn’t move. instead, he reaches out, gently taking your wrist.

“wait.”

you turn, surprised, as he pulls something from his jacket pocket—a pair of silver rings, simple and elegant.

“for you,” he says softly, slipping the smaller one onto your right hand’s ring finger. the fit is perfect.

your heart races, words failing you as he looks at you, his gaze full of unspoken meaning. then, he leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“goodbye, y/n,” he murmurs, stepping back.

it takes you a moment to find your voice. “goodbye, jake.”

as you walk back to the hotel, your mind replays the moment over and over, the cool metal of the ring on your finger grounding you in the surrealness of it all. that night, lying in bed, you can’t help but wonder if the universe will bring you and jake together again someday.

꒰ paris again, and again, and again, and again, and again ꒱

a tap on your shoulder pulls you out of your thoughts, and you lift your head groggily. you blink, trying to focus on the person standing in front of you. it’s keeho, grinning mischievously, while hyunjin stands behind him, sipping his americano with a slightly amused expression.

“y/n, what are you doing?” keeho asks, leaning in and waving his hand in front of your face.

you yawn, rubbing your eyes. “i’m taking a break. i can’t even keep my eyes open for more than a minute.”

hyunjin raises an eyebrow. “yeah, we can tell. you’re practically sleeping at your desk.” he leans against the back of your chair, his voice cool but teasing. “how about you stop pretending to study and actually join us for once?”

keeho’s grin widens as he jumps into the conversation. “we’re heading to a café to study, and you’re coming with us. you need a change of scenery.”

you groan, feeling your body resist the idea of leaving the comforting quiet of the library, but deep down, you know you’ve been at it for too long. a change of pace might be exactly what you need.

“come on, y/n,” keeho insists, his voice full of that playful energy you can’t ignore. “we’ll make it more fun. you can’t study like this. plus, you’ll probably get more done with us around.”

you hesitate for a moment, your mind torn between the need for a proper break and the looming pressure of your exams. still, you can’t deny how much you need a little distraction. “fine,” you sigh, finally giving in. “but if we end up just talking the entire time, i’m leaving.”

hyunjin chuckles, giving you a knowing look. “i think you’ll be okay. we’ll actually study this time. promise.”

keeho grabs your arm, pulling you up from your seat with a playful tug. “good, because you need us to keep you sane. now, let’s get out of here.”

as the three of you leave the library, you let out one last sigh, knowing that even though you might not get as much studying done as you hope, you could definitely use the company.

the café is warm and inviting, the soft hum of background chatter mixing with the aroma of fresh coffee and baked goods. it’s a stark contrast to the quiet, studious atmosphere of the library, and you find yourself breathing a little easier as you step inside.

you find a small corner table and set your laptop down, letting out a contented sigh as you settle in. keeho and hyunjin head to the counter to order, leaving you to fidget with your feet, trying to shake off the weight of the past few hours spent studying.

your eyes flicker to the window, watching people pass by as you idly tap your fingers against your coffee cup. eventually, you stop, catching sight of the ring on your right hand.

you pause, fingers tracing the smooth metal, your mind drifting back to paris. “it’s been three years since that time in paris,” you think to yourself, a wave of nostalgia washing over you. the memory feels distant now, like a dream you’re not quite sure was real.

you wonder if jake still remembers you, if he thinks about you at all. you’d been so wrapped up in the magic of those moments, so caught up in the fleeting connection between the two of you, that you’d completely forgotten to exchange socials, to keep in touch.

a soft laugh escapes you, tinged with frustration. you can still picture your past self—so carefree, so caught up in the magic of the moment, never once thinking about the things you should have done. and now, years later, it stings.

the photos you took back then are all you have left—memories frozen in time, but still, you find yourself wishing you had more. a way to bridge the gap between then and now, something more than a ring on your finger that’s become a quiet reminder of what you left behind.

a soft laugh from keeho breaks you from your thoughts, and you glance up to see him and hyunjin walking toward the table, their arms full of coffee cups and pastries. keeho places your cup down in front of you, his expression softening when he notices the faraway look in your eyes.

“you okay?” he asks, settling into his chair across from you.

you smile faintly. “yeah, just… thinking about paris.”

hyunjin raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push. he simply places a croissant in front of you and nods. “we’ll make it through these finals. paris will still be there when you’re done.”

you nod, but the bittersweet smile remains on your face, the question still lingering in the back of your mind. will you ever see jake again?

you manage to get some work done, but there’s plenty of laughter and light-hearted banter between you guys. hyunjin and keeho constantly bicker over the most ridiculous things—whether iced coffee is better than hot coffee, or if studying with background music is productive.

“you’re seriously telling me you don’t like the classics?” keeho says, shaking his head dramatically. “what kind of music do you even listen to, hyunjin?”

“i listen to music that doesn’t make my brain want to shut down,” hyunjin replies with a smirk, taking a sip from his americano. “but hey, if you need classical music to study, you do you.”

you laugh at their back-and-forth, shaking your head at their silly rivalry. the sound of their bickering is strangely comforting, distracting you from the pressure building up inside your mind. you feel a little lighter, even if it’s just for a moment.

after a while, you excuse yourself and head to the bathroom inside the café, needing a quick break from the endless cycle of notes and coffee. the place is busy, but the hum of quiet conversations and the scent of freshly brewed coffee make it feel comforting.

you take your time, refreshing yourself and letting your thoughts wander for a few moments. when you finally finish and head back out, you’re not paying attention to where you’re going, still lost in your thoughts.

and then—bam.

you collide with someone, the force making you stumble slightly. your reflexes kick in, and you immediately start bowing in apology, your words rushing out in a flurry of embarrassment.

“i’m so sorry! i didn’t mean—”

but before you can finish, you hear a familiar voice, soft and warm, with that unmistakable australian accent.

“y/n?”

you freeze, and the world seems to stop for a moment. you slowly lift your head, and there, standing in front of you, is none other than jake. in the flesh.

for a split second, all your words get caught in your throat. your heart races, and your brain scrambles to process the unexpected reunion. this can’t be real. is this a dream?

jake’s brows furrow slightly as he looks at you with concern, his voice softening. “are you okay?” he asks, stepping a little closer to you, clearly worried about your sudden silence.

you blink, feeling your heart thumping louder in your chest as you try to find your words, but they’re nowhere to be found. you stand there, staring at him, completely at a loss for what to say.

he leans in slightly, just enough to make sure you’re okay, his face showing that familiar concern. “y/n?” he gently says your name, and your body snaps back to reality.

“i—uh… sorry, i just—didn’t expect to see you.” you feel the heat rush to your cheeks, embarrassment flushing your face. "i thought… i thought i was imagining things."

jake chuckles softly, his expression softening with a smile that makes your heart flutter. “i didn’t expect to run into you here either.” his tone is light, playful, but there’s something in his eyes—something that makes the air feel a little thicker.

you both stand there for a moment, awkward silence hanging between you. the familiarity of this moment feels surreal, but there’s no denying the warmth that spreads through you at the sight of him.

“so, uh,” you start, finally finding your voice, “what are you doing here? i didn’t expect to run into you… again.”

jake’s lips curl into that familiar, soft smile. he shrugs nonchalantly, but there’s a glint in his eyes, something unspoken. “guess it’s just fate.” he says, his tone playful but there’s a layer of sincerity underneath it, one you can’t quite ignore.

you chuckle lightly, but the tension between you both is palpable now, thickening the air around you. there’s an undeniable pull between you, something that neither of you have fully acknowledged, but it’s there, lingering in the space between your words. you feel the heat of his gaze, and the sudden awareness of how close you both are makes your heart beat just a little faster.

“so… how’ve you been?” you ask, needing to break the moment but also curious, wanting to know everything about him since that last time you saw him.

jake rubs the back of his neck with a small, shy smile, a gesture you remember well. “i’ve been good… just been busy, you know. but i’ve been thinking about our time in paris a lot.” his voice is casual, but his eyes hold something deeper, a hint of vulnerability that you weren’t expecting.

you nod, understanding exactly what he means. you’ve been thinking about paris too. every memory feels like a treasure, something you’ve carefully tucked away, not wanting to forget any part of it. you wish you had more time to ask him about the things he’s been up to, to know if he’s felt the same pull that you have, the connection that neither of you can explain.

you glance down at your hand absentmindedly, and that’s when you see it—the ring he gave you in the park, so simple yet so meaningful. the silver band glints in the soft café lighting, and your heart does a little flip.

jake notices too, his gaze dropping to your hand. his smile softens, almost imperceptibly, but you notice it. there’s a quiet understanding between you two that you don’t need to speak aloud.

“i see you’re still wearing it,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost tender.

you look up at him, meeting his eyes, and for a moment, everything else fades away. you feel like you’re back in paris, standing in that park, with everything still ahead of you, full of hope and possibility.

“i didn’t want to take it off,” you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

jake doesn’t say anything at first, his eyes locked on yours. then, without warning, he reaches out slowly, his fingers brushing lightly over your hand, and he gently presses a kiss to your right hand, right where the ring rests. the simple gesture feels like it speaks volumes, and you can’t help but feel a surge of warmth spread through you.

“i’m glad,” he says softly, his voice just above a murmur. “i’m glad you kept it.”

for a moment, neither of you speaks. the world feels like it’s holding its breath. the space between you feels charged, but neither of you is in a rush to break the silence. it’s as if this moment, this small, quiet exchange, is enough.

you blink, still a little stunned by the gesture, your heart racing, but a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. you can’t help but feel the warmth in your chest, the way his simple action makes you feel seen, valued, even though you never really said all the things you wanted to say.

when you finally speak, your voice is soft but steady. “i didn’t think i’d see you again.”

jake takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. “i didn’t either, but i’m glad i did.”

enha perm taglist. @dazzlingjaeyun @honeychocos @manaah02 @kozumesphone

©levandright

230 notes · View notes

beenbaanbuun · 4 months ago

Text

fever w/ kang yeosang

words - an amount 🙂‍↕️

genre - hurt/comfort, sickfic

warnings - food avoidance because of illness, mentions of vomiting, reader is a little bratty but it’s the fever talking, yeosang is tired :((, not proof read

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“you need to eat something, baby,” yeosang grumbles, arm folded crossly over his half-exposed pecs. you can’t help but focus on the way he’s standing there in nothing but a tank top and some shorts while you’re sat shivering in one of the many hoodies that you’ve stolen from his closet. you’ve been blaming the fever for how cold you seem to be at the minute, but you’ve always ran a little colder than your boyfriend. whenever he needs a sweater, you need a sweater, a coat and a scarf. you’re just a little nesh, you suppose.

your eyes flicker around the kitchen, studying everything that crosses your vision. perhaps you could have some toast, you think as your eyes land on the half-finished loaf of bread on the counter. then you think about how heavy your stomach feels, even when it’s empty, and you realise that perhaps toast isn’t the best option. you turn your nose up and move on to the bowl of fruit that yeosang had just refilled this morning. the scent of the bananas alone is enough to make you feel sick, and perhaps the citrus fruits aren’t the best choice when you’ve been struggling to keep food down.

“i’m only going to throw it up again,” you argue, trying your hardest to make your expression pathetic and sad. you commit to it, bringing out the sad arched brows and the big wet eyes. your bottom lip juts out just a little and for extra effect, you can’t help but wobble it a little. for a moment of two, you’re almost sure it’ll work. yeosang’s eyes soften and his arms go limp and fall back to his sides. you’re almost positive that he’ll let you off with another day of medicine and water, you can practically feel it on your tongue—

“you don’t know until you try.”

your shoulders sink upon hearing your words and your features drop, expressing only apathy and defeat. sure, the puppy dog eyes have never worked on him before, but there’s a first time for everything. you were certain that this would be that time.

“yeosang!” you whine, trying to grab his attention as he turns to face the countertop. he whines your name back in exactly the same nasally tone you used. “please! my throat already hurts from all the acid; i just want one day where i don’t throw up. it’ll make me feel less miserable.”

he ignores you, lifting his phone from the counter and typing a few words into safari. you wish you could see i what it says, but from your position, huddled up on a dining chair—which you would only move from if a hefty bribe was offered your way—you can’t even dream of looking around his oversized torso.

damn him for getting buff.

“google says banana’s are goo—”

“no,” you cut him off, head shaking wildly like a petulant child.

“baby~”

“they smell bad!”

with a sigh, yeosang goes back to looking.

“dry brown rice?” he offers meekly, already foreseeing the outcome of his offer. he doesn’t even have to turn around to see your face screwed up in displeasure; it’s already so clear in his mind. “nevermind, it was a stupid suggestion.”

you hum in agreement, the small sound making him crack a small smile. despite being incredibly difficult, yeosang can admit that you do have your sweet moments while you’re feverish. your mind may be muddled and your body doing everything in its power to make your life a living hell, but you still somehow manage to put a smile on his face.

if he wasn’t desperate to not catch whatever 18th century plague has taken up residence in your body, he’d spin around and kiss you. squish your cheeks together like he always does when he wants to annoy you a little, bring your face up to his, and just kiss you. it’s almost impossible not to when he’s been missing out on the feeling of your lips on his for the past few days, but when he hears the sound of your stomach churning and a pained groan leave your lips, he remembers exactly why he’s doing this to himself.

“how about broth?” he suggests, putting his mind back on the task at hand, “you like broth, baby.”

he’s right, you do like broth. or at least you like it when you’re not feeling like satan himself has put his little tapdancing shoes on specifically to do a jig atop your stomach. instinctively you wrap an arm around your abdomen which after a short period of docility, has began to cramp again. that broth really doesn’t sound appealing right now…

“yeosang…” you say, dejected and miserable. he sighs, understanding exactly what you mean by saying his name in that tone of voice; it’s a disheartened no from you.

and while it pains him to be forceful with you—or anyone for that matter—he can’t just sit and watch you waste away over a poorly stomach. he has to put his foot down for once.

“baby, you need to eat,” he sighs and rubs a hand over his face. he hates being so bossy with you, almost as much as he hears the weary sound pass from your lips just after his soft command. “just a small bowl, okay? just for me; your yeosang?”

and while it’s an obvious guilt trip, a little bribe to make you feel a little bad about refusing to eat, you can’t help but fall for it. you sigh, wrapping your arms around your knees so you can pick at your fingers guiltily. it’s not like you can help being sick, but maybe you have been a little dramatic about the whole refusing to eat thing. sure, your stomach churns at even the thought of food, but yeosang is right; if you don’t try, you won’t know. the idea of throwing up again frightens you, but broth is a liquid; it’ll be easy to come back up.

you resign with a minuscule hum, so quiet it’s almost silent.

“fine,” yeosang hardly believes the word when you say it with so much resignation, “one small bowl of broth…”

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez fic #yeosang x reader #yeosang fluff

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irrelevantwriter · 20 days ago

Text

A Snake & Her Charmer

Pairing: Emperor Geta (Gladiator 2) x Female Reader/You

Warnings: NSFW, Ancient Rome type shit, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, mentions of bodily fluids, some light dom/sub dynamics, jealous Geta and reader (hubba hubba)

Word Count: 3035

Summary: Part 4. The Empress and her Emperor make it clear they do not like sharing.

A/N: Part four sees our favorite toxic couple up the ante. And it's steamy. As always, there are liberties taken with Ancient Rome. Feedback is that good shit.💗

*Read Part One here

*Read Part Two here

*Read Part Three here

*Masterlist

***********************

You sat next to your husband, the both of you engaged with the entertainment provided for the evening.

Laughter and music wafted around you, the sounds of people celebrating a steady thrum. Applause broke out as one of the snake charmers kissed her beloved reptile on its scaly mouth. Her form was nearly bare, gold coins clattering every time she moved her hips.

The men were easily amused. And that apparently included your emperor.

Geta laughed, nearly spilling his wine when the snake startled one of the Senators, causing him to let out a less than masculine yelp. You were careful not to roll your eyes at the spectacle, sipping from your own glass.

“Enjoying yourself?”

You turned to your left, following the voice that suddenly appeared at your side.

A man, clothed in an extravagant black and gold robe, smiled down at you. Jewels adorned his ears, gold rings that rivaled your husband’s decorated his hands.

“Macrinus, your highness,” he introduced himself, bowing his head and offering his hand.

You accepted his greeting, smiling as a good empress does. “A pleasure.”

“I did not intend to interrupt your evening. You appeared lost in thought.”

“I would not be a woman if I did not appear lost in thought,” you quipped, enjoying his infectious laughter.

“You are quite clever, Augusta,” Macrinus replied, surely thinking he was delivering a high compliment.

You once again fought the urge to wear your emotions on your face. Chatting within the company of men was a pastime you detested, yet you’d become quite skilled at. It was a blessing and a curse. Much could be learned by letting a man ramble on. Much could be taken away from him when you listened closely. They always revealed themselves eventually. It was how you’d been able to navigate as the Empress of Rome.

“She is a prize, isn’t she?” Your husband’s voice cut in, his words dripping with boyish pride.

“Some would say the only prize,” Macrinus added, his dark eyes taking you in.

“And you are a man who surely knows of worthy prizes, are you not?” Geta asked, winking at the man before you.

Macrinus laughed, the private joke lost on you.

“Macrinus supplies the games with gladiators. He is well-known in that arena. Most of his fighters come out victorious,” Geta supplied, popping a piece of oiled bread into his mouth.

Macrinus had the wherewithal to appear sheepish at the emperor’s words, though you were sure it was for show.

“That is quite an accomplishment,” you acknowledged.

“I cannot take all the credit, your highness. The gladiators do some of the work,” he joked, the men around you laughing.

You politely smiled, turning back to the dancers that now fluttered around the table. Macrinus and Geta spoke of the upcoming games, speaking of men as if they were cattle to exchange. You drowned them out, letting your gaze wander over the many faces that joined you.

A stoic set of dark eyes, eyes that nearly matched your husband’s, peered back at you. General Marcus Acacius nodded in your direction, tilting his glass in a modest toast.

You returned his gesture, breaking eye contact. The words that Geta had spoken to you earlier that day rang in your ears.

Men like that would kill me and take what’s mine in an instant.

You knew that to be true for most of the men that sat with you. It was an unsettling thought. Geta might be a tyrant, but he was a known evil. He did not hide his darkness. Those who went to great lengths to conceal their depravity, those were the people that frightened you.

“Lost in your head again, my love?”

Geta’s breath tickled your ear as he whispered, startling you. He chuckled, causing the wisps of hair at your neck to caress your skin.

His warm hand reached for your hand, his thumb rubbing surprisingly soft circles into the appendage, as if comforting you.

“Preoccupied with thoughts of slumber,” you replied, choosing not to divulge your inner musings.

“My queen desires sleep?”

He looked upon you with a rare glimpse of concern, making your heart quicken. You patted his hand, doing your duty to comfort him.

“Do not worry yourself, Imperator. Today’s festivities have gotten the better of me,” you teased, a knowing look in your eye.

He caught your implication, his mind no doubt conjuring up your time together in your bath just hours before. He smirked, the wine surely influencing his actions as he lunged forward, planting hungry kisses to your neck.

Such a display was considered illicit. Your husband was never one for propriety, but he was still mindful of sharing his weaknesses. That included you.

Your eyes shifted, hoping no one was paying you any attention. Your body, despite your thoughts, came alive at his indecent touch.

“Seductress,” he rasped, his hand wandering amongst the fabric nestled in your lap.

“You mean to become a spectacle for your guests?” You questioned, careful not to blatantly turn down his advances in front of prying eyes.

He laughed, his chest rumbling against you as he pressed into your side. He licked his lips, pulling himself from the hollow of your neck.

“Is my spirited wife becoming timid? That would certainly be a first,” he taunted, shifting away from you.

You’d upset him.

He took a generous swig of his wine, a lone droplet escaping his lips. He wiped it away with a rough hand, lined eyes now focused on the undulating figures of the women that still twirled around the room.

“Imperator, forgive me. I-,”

“You are dismissed. You can retire to your chambers as you wished, wife,” he coolly demanded, his eyes never meeting yours.

The sting of his words made your chest tighten. Anger made itself a home on your tongue, ready to lash out like the serpent that curled itself around the dancer’s arm. You were once again reminded of your status. An empress trained to coil itself around its master. To go against its very nature. Never to strike. Only to look upon. To entertain.

A mere pawn.

“If it is a whore you wish me to become for your men, then I shall be prepared to show them how I make their emperor fall to his knees.”

Geta stiffened beside you, your words having their desired effect. Your voice was low, unheard amongst the noise. But he heard you. Loud and clear.

You stood, gesturing for your maiden to follow. A scent of rose followed you. Laughter erupted at your back. Before long, the celebration would turn to a more salacious show. Whores would be paraded about. And after your outburst you were certain Geta would leave your bed cold that night.

A wise choice.

*******************************

Sleep did not come as easily as you had hoped. You laid awake for what felt like hours, still attempting to calm the storm that brewed within you.

Your husband had angered you. Upset you in such a way that tears nearly sprang to your eyes. He made you out to be some common harlot. Attempting to bed you in front of his guests. The thought turned your blood into lava, molten and unforgiving.

Geta was a boy in so many ways. He felt a constant need to make others jealous of him. Envious. Even blood thirsty. He spoke of possession and coveting. And perhaps that was a result of being a twin. Having to constantly be attached to someone. Never having anything of your own.

It made sense. And yet, you could not grant him mercy for how he’d treated you.

A knock made you sit up, reaching for your bedding to cover yourself. You waited as one of your maidens entered, her steps soft so as not to startle you.

“Your highness, I am so sorry to disturb you. I was not certain you were awake,” she feebly apologized.

“I have not slept. Is there something wrong?”

“The Emperor…he wishes to see you.”

You sighed, feeling sorry for the poor girl that had to suffer through your husband’s late night demands. You were surprised he didn’t rush in on his own.

“I’ll be along in a moment.”

“He is here, your highness,” she gestured to the hallway just outside your door.

You did not hide your annoyance.

“Very well. Thank you.”

She bowed her head, retreating quickly. Not a second later your husband was striding in, an expression of irritation marring his features.

The door slammed, ricocheting off the walls. You tensed, readying yourself for a fight.

“You have not slept?”

His question made you pause. He wore the same clothes he’d had on at dinner. The sight made your stomach turn.

“No,” you answered simply.

He stomped towards you, the stench of wine permeating the air.

“Have you not slept?” You returned, knowing the answer.

Geta shook his head, eyes roving over your chest. He could see through the fabric, even with the low light of candles.

“You made a mockery out of me.”

“And you didn’t of me? Suggesting I play along with your antics in front of the men you say covet me?”

He stepped towards you, leaning in so that you could see the smear of berry stained lips across his cheek. “You do not question me. You do not question your emperor,” he seethed.

“Your attempt at playing a man is foolish,” you sneered, surely sealing your fate.

Silence followed. His chest rose and fell with labored breaths, matching your own. You waited, anticipating these moments being your last.

Geta laughed, though no humor could be found. “You still think me unwise to your games, my dear?”

He reached out, snatching your face between his fingers. He squeezed. The force made you hiss in pain.

“Your desire to drive me mad is comical.”

“I do no such thing.”

His grip tightened.

“You lie.” He released you, pushing you onto your back. “Do not move.”

You did as he said, watching as he undressed. With every piece of clothing that fell, arousal seeped into your limbs. You wished you had the capacity to feel shame for it.

“I warned you. I warned you I would break you. Tame you into submission.”

He stood nude before you, cock already hard and leaking. A sight just as pathetic as you.

You flinched when he suddenly grabbed at your night dress, ripping it down the middle. Your nipples peaked once revealed to the frigid air between husband and wife.

“Turn around,” he growled.

You hesitated, not understanding what he was asking.

“On your stomach, wife.”

Anxiety prickled at the base of your neck at his words. You were confused, unsure of what he wanted from you in such a state. But the look in his eyes warned you to proceed with caution.

You reluctantly did as he commanded, feeling the shreds of your gown fall to the floor. You felt a new kind of vulnerability at being exposed this way, unable to see your husband.

The bed moved as he mounted you, manipulating your hips so that they were angled towards him. The heated flesh of his torso met your backside and you struggled not to nuzzle into the touch. Your face was smothered into your pillow, Geta’s figure barely visible from your position.

“You are afraid,” he observed, fingers ghosting over your spine.

“I’m not.”

His cock prodded your entrance, immediately met with a wetness he knew all too well.

“Seems you are quite the opposite,” he revered, the head of him teasing your folds.

You grasped the linens beneath you, forcing your eyes shut when he roughly spread you open.

“I have had many whores this way. I’ve been told it is like taking a spear to the heart,” he lamented, pushing your head further into the softness below you.

“Is your appetite so insatiable that you must have a whore and your wife in one night?” You managed, moaning when his cock nudged your clit.

Geta laughed, mocking you. “You are upset at the notion?”

“I am disgusted.”

Two fingers filled you suddenly, pulling a startled cry from your lips.

“I do not think it is disgust that overtakes you.”

He played within you, feeling your walls desperately trying to grasp at him. You writhed. At his mercy. At his whim.

And as quickly as his touch came, it was gone. You whined at the emptiness, unabashedly pushing back in return.

A hand pulled at your hair, forcing you up. You struggled to steady yourself on your knees, Geta’s chest pressing impossibly tight to your back.

“You’ll be pleased to know that I sought the company of another,” he admitted roughly, mouth teasing the shell of your ear. His hand still gripped your hair, pulling at the scalp. The pain made your hips open, seeking his cock. “But you’ve cursed me for anyone else,” he gritted, jerking your head back against his chest.

“Because no one else matches the flames I have for you. No one else feels as sinful. Tastes as addictive. No one else wants to end my life quite like you, Empress.”

You cried out when he thrust into you, sheathing himself completely. He was unforgiving. Relentless in his pace. Your entire body twisted around him, just like a snake.

His hand made its way to your throat, the other at your hip keeping you locked to him. He grunted and groaned, punishing just as much as he was pleasuring. It felt utterly divine.

Your nails clawed at his arms. He only went harder. And faster. The skin at your back nearly bruising with his force. And he was right. It felt as if he’d speared your heart, air struggling to fill your lungs. You were on the cusp of a madness you’d never felt before.

Without warning, he withdrew. Before you could protest, he forced you to face him, humiliating you even more by pushing your head to his cock. You had only ever taken him into your mouth once. At his insistence. It was an act you weren’t well prepared for.

“Open your mouth. Do as I’ve told you.”

You looked up at him with disdain, but your mouth moved on its own, suckling him. He threw his head back, revealing another set of stains in the shape of another’s mouth. You sucked. Hard.

Geta hissed, grabbing for your hair once again. “Tread carefully, my love.”

He forced himself down your throat. Tears clouded your vision while saliva fell down your chin. He took pleasure from you, using your body as a vessel and nothing more.

“Keep your throat open.”

You defied him, gagging when he pushed you into the thatch of curls at his pelvis.

“Shall I call in a whore to teach you?” He jeered, pulling you up so that you were finally face to face.

Traces of coal ran from his eyes. The cords of his neck pulsing with tension. His skin was flush and dewy with perspiration. His eyes now dangerously empty and dark. He looked completely stricken with hysteria.

You were sure your appearance mirrored his own.

“Only if you call in the General as well,” you retorted, throat burning from his intrusion.

Geta’s lip curled at your suggestion.

“You threaten me?”

“I only propose what you had wanted. To entertain. Does having another man see me in this way not please you, your highness?”

With bravery you did not fully feel, you licked his lips, feeling his jaw loosen. You pebbled kisses to the underside of his chin, feeling his hand beginning to release your hair.

“Does the thought of another man’s hands upon me make you murderous?” You whispered into his flesh, hands roaming his scarless chest.

“Not any more than it makes you, my love.”

He kissed you then. It was all-consuming and messy, lips and teeth clashing in rage and blinding passion. His mouth was just as bruising as his hips had been. He wordlessly eased you back, not following. You went to reach for him, but he gripped your thighs instead, opening you up to him.

He stared down at you, a mixture of hatred and obsession clouding his features. He spread you wide and lined himself up at your folds. You found his wrist and held fast, knowing he was not going to be gentle.

He filled you to the hilt, your entire body moving with the force of it. Each thrust was punctuated, a reminder, as he looked down his nose at you.

His gaze flitted from your face to your breasts, intrigued by the way your eyes squeezed shut and your back arched.

“Look at me.”

You did so reluctantly.

He snapped his hips, cock wedging even further inside you. You threw your head back, his name instinctively falling from your lips.

“You call for me as if I am your savior,” he taunted, fingers digging into the meat of your thighs.

“You are my tormentor,” you gasped, feeling your body begin to tingle in that delicious way you’d come to know.

“I think that suits me much better.”

He harshly rubbed at your clit, forcing your legs to try and close. His body prevented such a thing and you were instead subjected to his torture.

As if you were floating in the ocean, a wave suddenly pulled you under, trapping you beneath her surface. You free floated as pleasure of the richest kind made its way through your body. It held you prisoner, ravaging you without an ounce of sympathy. Tears leaked from your eyes and blood seeped from your lip, teeth digging in. But you barely felt any of it.

Beyond your bliss, Geta soon joined your descent, cock spilling into the flood that welcomed him. He fought through the exhaustion, through your pitiful whimpers and filled you so full it seeped from your walls.

From the look in his eyes, you were certain he had just given himself an heir.

He continued to pump his hips, not willing to waste a drop of his royal seed. Lethargy seized you. A euphoria settled in your bones. You hadn’t a care in the world.

“Sleep, my love. You’ll need it.”

#emperor geta #gladiator 2 #emperor geta x you #emperor geta x female reader #emperor geta fanfic #emperor geta fanfiction #emperor geta fic

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celestialtarot11 · 9 months ago

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How to Turn Your Situation Into Something Positive 🍵💗

Hi friends! Welcome to another PAC reading where we’ll be looking at how to transform any current situations you’re in! Keep in mind there are many different groups here and there will be messages which you won’t resonate with, just leave it for someone else 😊❤️ Please like, comment and reblog to share the love ☮️

Pile 1 🌟- Hi there pile 1’s! Someone definitely did ya’ll dirty in a situation and it left you feeling sad and lonely. A loss was created because someone handled a situation unfairly, and you’ve been feeling very down. This situation felt like it was weighing on your chest, and possibly there was a misunderstanding of feelings, or someone took something the wrong way and blew up here. And I feel like you took the brunt of the situation for a long time. I feel like this is something that was happening for a long time, and you’ve been wanting justice to come to this situation, or karma to hit that person to show them where they went wrong. Its also very possible for some of you this person reached out and reignited those triggers and you’re finding it difficult to be compassionate towards them. Your anger is understandable and so are your triggers, I feel like spirit is saying it’s important to know your boundaries in this situation and have your back. Look after you first. There are/were people who benefitted from you having no boundaries because they liked the feeling of power, and that needs to change. There’s this feeling of stepping up or no longer accepting their bullshit, which I’m so proud of you pile 1! Know your worth and value. Thats how you turn this situation into a positive one. Knowing your true worth and value will help you walk away from anything that is less than what you want. This person could be bread-crumbing you and as of now you’re done with that energy! Im also hearing whilst its very understandable you’d wish someone their own karma, spend your time wishing yourself the blessings you’ve always wanted instead. Feed yourself empowerment and start thinking “how can I support myself now?” be there for yourself pile 1, and also once you heal you begin to see a lot of things that you didn’t before. Within yourself and everyone else. Happy healing pile 1 💗🌟 Wishing you the best! Please like comment and reblog to support this blog ✨

Pile 2 ☮️- Hi there pile 2! ❤️🌟 Welcome to your reading. For you I see you need to distance yourself from a community or situation here and really really focus on your self confidence. Your esteem, body, and health. There’s something about getting your life in order and no longer letting external factors or people tell you what to do. Become your own boss in this situation. Some of you need to take an active role in this situation as well and know you’re the shit! 💗 like speaking up, setting boundaries, deciding what YOU’ll do, not focusing on them. You’re everything anyone could ever want, and some of you may have forgotten that. Your true power is meant to come out in this situation. What would help as well is remaining unbothered by this person or situation. I’m hearing it’s a silly situation, for some of you. Like petty high school drama. There could be someone trying to compete with you and show they are the best, but truthfully insecurities are loud, confidence is quiet. I’m hearing from spirit let them make a fool out of themselves because they are responsible for themselves only! What they say and what they do is on them. Continue working on yourself because I feel like whoever this is, is trying to undermine your confidence or skill, and you won’t stand for it and shouldn’t! 😤 I also feel like spirit will be giving you messages in your dreams about this situation so definitely sleep with amethyst, clear quartz or lavender herb under your pillow. If not allergic, drink lavender and chamomile before you bed ✨either way I feel like your presence is truly amazing and its like royalty, and what you need to know is that don’t give those haters your attention. Focusing on yourself is literally the best outcome here. Thank you pile 2’s! Please like comment and reblog to spread the love 💗🌹

Pile 3 ⌛️- Hi there pile 3’s! First of all I just want to ask if ya’ll are okay? 🥹❤️ Ya’ll seem to be going through it. Either a relationship with someone got unhealthy and controlling, or there has been a loss and you’re struggling to cope with it. Spirit is offering a lot of support and healing right now, and although you may not see it or feel it, spirit is protecting you heavily now. There’s a veil around you. I also feel that this ending was necessary because it was getting toxic, controlling and brought out the worse. I think someone here had to make a decision to choose themselves over toxicity. And it’s okay to hurt by that too. Honor and acknowledge your loss without shaming yourself for making the healthy choice 💗 I received the Queen Of Cups so I feel like there’s something about focusing on your growth and healing now. “Let growth be your mission. Let healing be your reward. Let freedom be your goal.” I love this quote and I go by it. Spirit wanted me to share it with ya’ll. I feel like ya’ll have been working on your healing for a long time and revisited something of the past, and its been tough processing it. In a way, its allowing this new version of you to come through and grow every time 💗🥹 This new version of you has a lot of emotional abundance and knowledge, and is definitely patient and caring. I feel like your higher self is coming through to also say it’s important to feed yourself kind words. If harsh words worked it would’ve worked a long time ago is what I heard too. Call yourself the names you wish to be called, like nicknames, talk gently, and use respectful words to yourself the way you would with anyone else ✨💗 I feel like you guys used to give everyone your secret wisdom, or the things you’ve healed from like all of that information, and now you are being asked to remain private and selective about it. This will help you a lot in this situation to focus on yourself. Thank you for being here pile 3 and I sincerely hope this helped you ❤️🌟 Please like comment and reblog to help this blog grow 🌟😊

Thank ya’ll for stopping by! Its highly appreciated and I really hope this PAC got ya’ll the clarity you needed ❤️🥹 Thank ya’ll for being here always.

Paid Readings 💗✨

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hollowed-theory-hall · 29 days ago

Note

What do you think cooking looks like in the wizarding world?

As in, how many modern ameneties do you think they're incorporating? We can assume they have things like a toaster, since they eat toast all the time in the books (unless there's a toasting spell) but I highly doubt the wizards have a dishwasher, since magic can fulfill the same function and the Weasleys don't use one.

Other things, like microwaves, are a little more unclear to me, since there's definitely a spell to reheat food, but microwaves also have some unique properties in HOW they cook that gets you things like mug cookies. And how would they be cooking rice? They'd probably have to stovetop it right? Which seems a lot more inconvenient than a microwave or a rice cooker.

Adding into that, there are unique ingredients wizards have access to with magical plants and animals that might require a different approach to cooking them. Do you have any thoughts on that front?

Do you think certain foods that are less common in the muggle world are really common in the wizarding world? Or vice versa?

We also know house elves do a lot of the cooking and chores for families that have them, but how much magic is involved in that process?

It also seems like even with magic involved, it takes Molly a lot of time and effort to cook. That might just be because she has to cook so much to feed everyone or because they eat everything homecooked, but I feel like it's an indicator that cooking with magic doesn't make the process that much easier, just different. Instead of a dishwasher you're using your wand and all that.

And speaking of homecooked, what kind of pre-packaged meals do you think exist in the wizarding world, and what would prep for that look like?

Sorry, this was like 12 questions in one, I just had more thoughts the more I looked at it.

I saw this ask and I was immediately super interested to answer it because it raises some fun world-building details. Now, I'm gonna say, right out of the gate, I think wizards use close to 0 (zero) modern amenities in cooking. They have spells, stoves, ovens, tools like knives, and that's basically it.

I'm gonna start with the toast since you can make toast without a toaster. All you need is a frying pan (or oven, but I use a frying pan).

So I assume that's how wizards make toast as Mr. Weasley clearly treats toasters as a muggle contraption he has no clue how to use:

Sitting on top of Mr. Weasley’s overflowing in-tray was an old toaster that was hiccuping in a disconsolate way and a pair of empty leather gloves that were twiddling their thumbs.

(OotP)

(I want to note about toast in a frying pan, as someone who makes it occasionally, the taste and consistency of the bread is so much better in a pan than in a toaster. You fry it with butter (or olive oil) so it doesn't get dry like in a toaster. It's great, you should try it)

And you don't need a rice cooker to cook rice, you can make rice in a pot on the stove with water, that's a thing people do (by people, I mean me, I never owned a rice cooker). Like, people made rice before the rice cooker was invented (as they made toast before the toaster was invented). But, I'll note I don't think rice is a standard part of the cuisine in Magical Britain, at least it doesn't seem to be served at Hogwarts or at the Weasleys. The staple carbs we see served most often in the books are potatoes, I believe (potatoes are probably the most mentioned food that isn't candy).

Like toasters, wizards have no idea what a microwave is or how it works:

Back in the kitchen, Moody had replaced his eye, which was spinning so fast after its cleaning it made Harry feel sick. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Sturgis Podmore were examining the microwave and Hestia Jones was laughing at a potato peeler she had come across while rummaging in the drawers.

(OotP)

They don't even know how to work a potato peeler which is interesting since they do peel potion ingredients. I assume they are used to just using knives and scalpels to peel ingredients and not peelers made for the job. Basically, wizards still cook like in the 19th century in terms of tools and amenities.

I was always under the impression they have heating, cooling, and preserving charms (since they don't have fridges) that replace many amenities. Though I assume preserving charms won't really work like a fridge, they would keep the food as it is, if it's warm, it stays warm so you won't even have to reheat it!

And any heating charm would likely not be able to cook like a microwave, neither would it heat like an oven or a stove (I imagine it'll have an effect similar to an air fryer if I had to guess) and they don't seem to have ready-made microwavable food either, so, they won't really need a microwave. I mean, all the food we see is homemade from scratch. Besides, pre-made meals just don't fit the vibe of the Wizarding World.

To continue the discussions of household charms, there is a charm that make dishwashers unnecessary:

She [Molly] flicked her wand casually at the dishes in the sink, which began to clean themselves, clinking gently in the background.

(CoS)

As for it taking Molly time to cook even with magic, well, I think that has more to do with the cooking than the effort. Like, magic probably makes quite a few of the processes necessary for cooking (peeling, mixing, dicing, etc.) easier, but cooking still takes the same time. Like, if you need a certain amount of minutes to heat up water to a boiling point in a given heat, magic doesn't make a difference. If it takes 2 hours for something to bake in an even heat in the oven, it would still be 2 hours even if the heat source is magical. The heat is still the same heat. That's why, I think, magic doesn't really affect the time it takes for something to cook.

(I will note it's possible mixing, dicing, and peeling might need to be done by hand too considering they do all of this by hand for potions. But I think they can be done by magic mostly because potion-making is different from cooking and it's likely spells for this aren't as exact and precise as doing it by hand, especially for young and inexperienced wizards and witches. Also, a severing charm exists, and making a spoon mix a cauldron for you is very similar to making utensils clean themselves, which is something we know they can do. So, I think this is more a matter of personal preference of whoever is cooking)

House-elves need to cook the way wizards do. They don't have any unique magic that can speed things up. Certain things take a certain amount of time to cook and no magic can help it. There are pots and pans in Grimmauld Place that Kreacher uses to cook:

The kitchen was almost unrecognizable. Every surface now shone: Copper pots and pans had been burnished to a rosy glow; the wooden tabletop gleamed; the goblets and plates already laid for dinner glinted in the light from a merrily blazing fire, on which a cauldron was simmering.

(DH)

He still needs to cook in pots just like Molly does. So house-elf magic doesn't make much of a difference, I think.

As for common foods, I don't really know. We see potatoes and meats are very common, so, I'd say wizard cuisine is probably very local and doesn't have as much modern or international influences as the muggle one does. Wizards don't have fast food, nor do the ones in the UK seem to eat Asian food, for example. The food we see in the series is all very British. So, I think the cuisine would really be very local and based on stuff grown/raised locally by wizards (and perhaps muggles on occasion) for the most part. At least, that's the impression I got.

As for magical ingredients in food, well, most magical plants and herbs have magical properties used for potions. Many of these are properties you don't want your food to have, so I don't think magical plants are used for cooking often if at all.

Same with magical creatures as most of them are illegal to capture and kill. So, I don't see them as part of the cuisine either.

These are the thoughts I have on this at least.

#harry potter #hp #hp meta #asks #anonymous #harry potter meta #wizarding world #wizarding society #hollowedtheory #hollowedheadcanon

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thewulf · 11 months ago

Text

The Ranger Called Strider || Aragorn

Summary: Request - OK so this idea is for Aragorn. Basically he is king at this point and feels like it is time to find a queen(we are gonna ignore Arwen in this instance, we love her butttttt). So he does what his like advisors are saying for hosting a ball(kinda like Cinderella).... Read Rest Here

A/N: Ahhh I am falling in love with writing him! Love my human King. I just know he had the biggest heart. I am LOVING all these LOTR requests, please keep them coming, I'll sprinkle them in with my older requests I was working through. It's bringing the joy of writing back for me :) Thanks for he request as always @loving-and-dreaming !

Pairing: Aragorn x Reader

Word Count: 6,900 +

TW: self-doubt, Aragorn being hot af

“None of these women will do.” Aragorn muttered to his advisor standing next to him, “I’m going on a walk. Cover for me?” He asked as if he wasn’t the King of Gondor and could do whatever he pleased.

“Aye my King.” He bowed in reverence letting the King slip out behind him. Quickly, he changed into his old Ranger uniform wanting to take to the city streets. It was easier to go out not looking like the King. Less questions were always asked. He had walked further than he normally did before he took to rest outside a small shop far away from the city center. He had a lot on his mind thinking he would never find his Queen. It was not that they were all bad choices he just could not seem to connect with a single woman. He had met hundreds tonight and felt nothing but despair. He needed air and to step away.

“Excuse me sir.” You walked over to the man who was sitting on the bench with a distant stare. When he blinked back to the present looking over to your approaching figure you continued, “Are you all right? Are you hurt?” It was not often you found people you had never seen before on the streets late at night. Especially the night of the grand ball the King was throwing.

He shook his head quickly, putting down the hood of his cloak so you wouldn’t see him as a threat, “Pardon me. I was simply lost in thought.” He stood from the bench. You bit back a gulp as he stood much larger than you. You got a good look at him as the moonlight hit his features. Your sudden courage to chat with the stranger had suddenly vanished as you took in the handsome man. He was intimidating. Incredibly handsome but terribly intimidating, “I am well, thank you miss.” He bowed his head gently.

You looked at him skeptically not sure if you truly believed his words. He may have been fine, but he also looked distressed. So, you did what you did best and offered the little help you might be able to manage, “Are you hungry? I have some leftover bread I can spare. And a place to rest if you need it…”

He put his hand up, but you noticed his gaze soften at your kindness, “There is no need. I am but a close walk home.”

But something told you to press on even being as intimidating as he looked, “What if I insist on the bread? You look like you could use it.”

“Very well. Then I simply could not refuse.” He held his hand out letting you lead the way back.

You led him back to you small, shared home in a comfortable silence. You weren’t far from home, but you hadn’t a clue what to talk to the stranger about. You usually weren’t one to get so tongue tied but he had you second guessing any question you might have thought of asking.

“May I ask you a question miss?” The man stopped as you walked him back toward your home at the outer edge of Minas Tirith.

You turned back to him, “Humor me.” Nodding at him you waited for him to ask whatever had been plaguing his mind.

“Why are you not at the ball? All fair maidens were invited, no?” He asked all to curious as to why you hadn’t made it a priority to attend like he assumed everybody in the city would. It wasn’t often the castle opened its doors to everyone. It amused his interests to think there were people who simply did not care. He was assured by his advisors that anyone of interest would be there tonight. Yet here you stood.

You gave him a bashful grin taken aback by the brazen compliment you so rarely received, “You are correct sir.”

“Strider.” He corrected you quickly.

You bowed, to respect his wishes, at him ever so slightly and continued, “You are correct Strider. I would have loved to have gone. However so be it my dear mother is not having the best bought of health at the moment. I need to make sure she is well enough until the morning. That is the earliest the healer can get here.”

He frowned, were his people having to wait for help? Why had he not been advised of this? He took a step closer towards you, “Forgive me miss. But you are having to wait for a healer?”

You sighed nodding your head, “Usually it’s not so long. I believe they had prior arrangements tonight. A ball or something like that.” A ghost of a smile graced your lips, “It’s all right. There are many far fairer of maidens available for the King anyway.” You gave him a sad smile as you finished out the excuse, “I am nothing but a lowly peasant girl. I have no place there.”

He shook his head quickly, “Do not say that. For I know for a fact that is not true.” His smile nearly took all of your breath away. He was so very handsome, strikingly so. You had never seen this Strider man in your parts of the city before. You were sure you would have recognized his face had you seen him before.

Your eyes softened in the slightest at the compliment, “It is all right. My mother is far more important to me than a night of folly.” You grinned before continuing, “No matter how fun it was bound to be. I am positive my friends are having a wonderful time in my absence. One of them seems to be convinced she can woo the King.” You giggled recalling the nonsensical conversation amongst friends earlier that day. She had looked rather striking before she made the trek to the center of the city to get to the Kings Castle. If any of them could capture his attention it was sure to be her.

He shook his head finding your rambling adorable, “I do not believe that to be possible miss.” He watched as your eyes studied him in confusion.

“And why’s that?” You looked him over curiously. He seemed to bd adorned in ripped and tattered Ranger clothing which was nonsensical clean appearance. His hair was a little tangled sure, but his skin looked as clean as could be. You imagined how striking the Strider man would be cleaned up and in more proper clothing.

“I have reason to believe he left the ball early.”

Your eyebrows rose studying his face for any hint of a lie, “How do you know that Strider? Are you the Kings personal Ranger?”

“Keen eyes.” He smirked for the first time in while enjoying the back and forth that had been going on between the two of you, “I am something of that sort.” The chuckle that escaped his throat escaped you. You left it at that as you continued walking back to the home you’d grown to love as you got older. It was precious to even own a plot of land let alone a home in Minis Tirith. You were thankful your father had secured it for you and your mother before he passed in the war.

“You are a Ranger then?” You asked as you neared your home.

He nodded contemplating his next words as the two of you continued walking, “I was. May I ask you another question miss?” Elusively he answered your question but diverted before you could dig in any further.

You smiled appreciating his caution. He very much wasn’t from this part of Minis Tirith being thoughtful. You were used to very brash men who hardly ever considered your feelings for you were seen to be beneath them, “You may Strider. Ever the curious one?”

He shrugged innocently, “Why would you offer a stranger your food and a place to stay? With an ailing mother?”

You opened your mouth to speak but paused as you thought about it, “I wish that if I were in the same position I would be afforded the same fate.”

He nodded while considering your answer, “That is a noble answer.”

“Or the truth.” You hummed stopping by a door, “This is it. Mother is upstairs so she will not be a bother. Bread and spread are on the counter. You may have as much as you like.”

“Will you keep me company for a moment? A know you must check on her but I have quite enjoyed this conversation miss.” He asked once the two of you occupied your family’s small living space.

“If you wish.”

His answer was quick, “I do.” You watched as he cut the bread and put the jam on top. He walked over to the table you had been sitting out and sat next to you. He didn’t try to talk with you, just sitting and eating in silence.

Not being able to take the silence you had to ask him what had been burning on your mind, “I have not seen you around here Strider. I am at the market every day. Where are you from?”

You had given him a hint, “Aye. Do you work there?”

“I asked you first.” You crossed your hands over your chest as you studied him this time. He was even more handsome with his cloak off and hair pushed behind his ears.

“Will you answer my question if I answer yours?” He quipped back not backing down. He had to come and find you again. He was having far too much of a grand time chatting with you. Sure, he thought it a bit immoral to not reveal his true identity for you clearly had no idea who he actually was. But that meant risk to the ease of conversation you may have felt with him. He quite enjoyed the easy bickering he had managed to find with you.

“You are quite stubborn Strider.” Your smile gave way to your answer though, “Yes, I will answer your question.”

“I reside near the north side of the city.” He answered giving you a soft smile, “I did not wish to attend the ball and thought it would be time to observe this side of the city.”

You believed him for why would he lie? “You are far from home Mister Strider. I have not even been to the north end. I thought you said you were a quick walk away?” You sighed knowing he was waiting for your answer now and wasn’t going to entertain your question, “I sell my uncles crops at the market. You get to know people when you are there every day.”

“That is no job for a lady.” You swore you saw his nose flare a little. He almost seemed, angry? Surely not at you but the situation?

“It is a good thing I am no lady then, is it not Strider?” A smirk toyed at your lips knowing you had him beat there. You weren’t a lady. Ladies resided in grandeur houses and had promised marriages. Ladies had class and couth that you could only dream of. Ladies got to paint and read instead of selling crops to other peasants. Ladies had promise, you did not.

Ignoring your question with a warned look on his face he asked you, “What is your name then?” He asked to distract himself. He was angry that you had to work every day to make ends meet. He wished he had a way to help people of his city. Help you. He was the King, there had to be a way.

You tutted turning your head to him, “You did not ask permission to ask me a question.”

A small flush rose to his cheeks, “Forgive me miss…” He trailed off with a small smile rising in place of the blush. He knew he was pushing his luck, but he needed to know your name. He was planning on finding you again. And hopefully many more times.

“Y/N.” You obliged the handsome stranger.

“Miss Y/N.” He gave you a head bow, “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

The second time you ran into Strider was at the market a few days later. He strolled up near closing time with a hood wrapped tightly around his head, “How much do you have left miss Y/N?”

Your eyes snapped up in recognition of the voice that belonged to the strikingly handsome man, “Too much, uncle is going to be disappointed we did not get more today.” You admitted in a sigh of defeat.

“I’ll take the rest then.” He put down a gold piece as if it were the simplest thing to come by.

You pushed it back into his hand, “Mister Strider I cannot accept this. It is far too much.”

He smiled seeing your kindness seep right through you yet again. Any other mortal would have taken the money without so much as a second thought, “I insist. Consider it a thank you for the other night as well.” He pushed it back into your hand making sure you were holding onto it before letting go once more.

“Strider, this is too much even for that.” You bit your lip trying to figure out what to do as he was clearly not going to take the gold piece back.

“Nonsense. Not for this fine spread. Give your uncle my well wishes.” He smiled collecting the rest of the produce you had yet to sell for the day. You had to wonder what he was going to with a random assortment of in season vegetables.

“Thank you. Did you come all the way down here for this?” You handed him the rest of what was left on your table before packing up for the night.

He shook his head, “I was hoping to see you as well. I quite enjoyed our conversation the other night and was hoping you could spare some more of your precious time?”

You flashed him a quick smile as you gathered the rest of your personal belongings, “I enjoyed it too. Your much wiser than the men down this way.”

And that was how it went for the next few weeks. Strider would come and find you at the market on a random weekday, sometimes every day, making sure to buy whatever you had left. Somedays he left you with a gold piece, sometimes a bronze knowing you wouldn’t keep taking from him.

He had admitted to himself he had grown quickly attached to the pretty naïve girl with a big heart. It did not take long for his like to turn to love as you teased him relentlessly. You treated him as Strider and not King Aragorn. He loved how you always managed to catch him on his toes and make him laugh harder than even his best of friends had managed too. You had managed to hook your finger around him and pull him in without you even realizing it.

Before you knew it he was coming around almost every night. The routine was simple. He would find you at the market not fifteen minutes before it closed. He would purchase the remaining bits of produce no matter how much. He would then walk you home making sure his meleth was as safe as could possibly be. He shuddered at the thought of someone hurting you on your walk home as he sat in the castle. He would have none of that.

He usually never came inside, not wanting to intrude. But one evening it had begun to rain harder than even he had anticipated so he came inside at your pleading. You really did not want Strider to catch a cold because he didn’t want to intrude. He would never be intruding. You had grown to love the man just as much as he had grown to love you. Neither of you were great at speaking it out loud but you were sure it was being conveyed through your eyes every time you saw him. He made you feel things you were sure you were going to miss out on.

You cursed when you saw your mother sitting down at the table reading a book you had recommended she pick up. You really just wanted to keep Strider your little thing separate from your actual life. You had told your mother about him but never actually wanted the two of them to meet. For some reason

“Mother, I’ve invited Strider inside. It is pouring too heavily for his journey home.” You spoke blocking her view of the man behind you.

She smiled and nodded looking back down at her book, “That is quite aright dear. We have plenty of stew to spare. Are you hungry mister Strider?” She asked this time setting the book down and actually looking for him behind you.

Your mothers eyes went wide as Strider stepped out from beside you. It never dawned on you she had never seen the man called Strider you had grown very fond of over the few instances the two of you had spent time together.

“Are you alright mother?” You asked walking over to her. She was staring right at your new stranger turned friend that you hoped would blossom into something more. You never wanted to assume but you had to think he enjoyed you if he had come around so often.

She ignored you and stood from the table in a rush, “My King.” She bowed before pushing the chair into the table.

“Mother, are you well?” You placed a hand over the back of her forehead, “The healer said you were better.”

“I am well child. You did not tell me your friend is The King of Gondor.” She had a more than irritated expression as she stared at you, bewildered. You just stared back with the same bemused expression. Had she gone mad? Strider could not be the King of Gondor. No.

You shook your head quickly before turning back to Strider, “I am so sorry Strider… I do not know what has come over her.”

He put his hand up to have you pause like he had the night he met you, “Your mother is not wrong.” He said with so much passiveness in his voice you weren’t sure if you heard him correctly. He looked at you like he had lost a battle as a look of utter confusion flashed across your features.

“King?” You sputtered out as you stood straighter and turned to him trying your hardest to blink back your surprise of this newfound revelation.

“Aragorn will suffice.” He looked terribly nervous, just as bad as you felt. You had been so casually conversing with the King of Gondor prior to knowing of his elevated status. Had acted like the peasant you really were. He must have found something charming in it as he kept coming back. The King was visiting you in his limited time? Your head suddenly felt like it was going to explode with all of the questions you had.

Your mother spoke up a little horrified by your mistake, “I apologize for my daughter. She meant no harm for her mistake King Aragorn.” She bowed her head once more and you followed suit. Heat rushed to your cheeks in embarrassment. How had you been so blind?

“There is no need to apologize. It is I who kept this information from her.” He spoke directly to your mother letting her know it was not your fault in the slightest. He did not want you to come under the ire of your mother when he left for the night thought he knew at some level you would get a scolding from her. He watched as you kept your head down in shame. Not having the will to look the King in the eye at the moment.

Instead of speaking to you he walked up with purpose to where you were standing. What he was most afraid of was playing out in front of him. You could not even look him in the eye. He had no idea what was going through your mind, but he knew it was certainly a lot. You were an overthinker just as he was. Maybe that was why he found such solace in you.

It had only been a few weeks since you ran into him on the bench that fateful night. The night he had all but given up on love. Arwen had chosen the immortal life instead of staying with him and Eowyn was engaged to be wed to Faramir. Nobody had intrigued him like those two until he met you. A kind heart who was willing to give more than you had made him fall for you faster than he had wanted. He craved to spend time with you. To get things off his chest. To feel your warmth and comfort you so effortlessly provided for him. Only a few of his advisors had known of your existence. He wanted to keep you his little secret for as long as he could. He knew that time was ending now that you knew of his true identity.

He placed a gentle hand under your chin forcing your eyes back up to his, “You do not bow before me. You need not even call me Aragorn. Call me Strider. I am still just the Ranger called Strider. Please.” His voice wavered at the end forcing your eyes to his. He was being genuine?

“But my King…” Your eyes frantically searched his face now. How could you have been so daft? You had been to the coronation not even that long ago. You were sure you would never forget a face like his. It was funny how his tattered clothes and messy hair disguised him so well. No wonder he never wanted to stroll around in the daylight hours though. Surely, somebody would have recognized him then.

“Please Y/N?” He hardly used your name as it came out in a pleading whisper. You were sure your mother was as confused as ever. How had her daughter run into the King of all people. And why was he looking at her like that?

“As you wish Strider.” It was quick but you gave him your word. It still stung a bit though. How long was he planning to keep it a secret from you? Was he planning to disappear one day on you?

“Take a walk with me?” He asked wanting to get away from your mothers prying eyes.

For the first time you thought you should reject his request. You needed a moment to get your thoughts together, “I do not think that is a good idea Strider.”

His eyes stitched together in confusion, “No?”

“I need the night to myself.” You whispered almost afraid he’d be mad by your request.

A quick nod came from him as he stepped back giving you the space you needed, “Aye. Can I come see you tomorrow?” He hopped he wasn’t pushing his luck with you. Your expression of distrust wasn’t lost on him. His intentions were never to deceive you he had just grown to adore being treated like a human again. You weren’t caught up in the politics of it all. You had become his breath of fresh air that he needed more and more of.

“That will be fine my King.” It slipped before you could stop it. But he corrected you, nevertheless.

“Strider. I will see you tomorrow. Good evening ma’am. You have a lovely daughter.” He spoke to her before ducking out of the front door and vanishing off into the dark night. You frowned seeing the rain still pouring down. You had pushed him out before he even got the chance to prepare for the storm.

“You are upset with me.” He spoke as he caught your vacant expression. It was becoming a common site to see Strider sitting at your table after a long day at work. His days were much longer than yours you were sure of that now. Being the King and all.

You shook your head, “I am not upset... just embarrassed. I feel like a fool.” You spoke freely not being able to hide your true emotions from him. He just seemed to have a way of getting you to spill all your feelings without seeming to have to try. You still seemed to trust him although he had lied to you for the last few weeks. But then, could you blame him? There had to be a reason he kept coming back for more. He had to have enjoyed it for a King wouldn’t waste his time on somebody so trivial.

“Why?” He asked with a genuine look of confusion mixed with concern coming through his eyes.

A sigh escaped your lips as you took to the chair next to him. You had forced your mother out of the house and promised to tell her everything later. You needed this moment with Strider to sort it all out, “I have not treated you as I should a King.”

He shook his head before grabbing at your hand. He had never been so forward with affection before, but he needed you to hear him. Hear the words as the truth that they were, “I did not want you to treat me as one. All else in my life treats me as one and it is tiresome. You remind me so much of the life I miss, the one filled with adventure before this happened. My life is nothing, but politics and I grow very tired of it. Fear not though, I do enjoy what I do. I just find you so very captivating my lady.”

“I am no lady.” You ignored the rest of his statement as you didn’t want to talk about your feelings with him so deeply. This is what you were great at, avoiding. Cutting and running when things got just a little difficult. You should have known Strider wouldn’t let you go so easily though.

“Am I not the King? Can I not give you such a title?” He pressed pushing his luck beyond what he should have.

You shook your head looking down, another flush of embarrassment running its course through your body, “Forgive me.”

Once more he place his hand under your chin bringing it up forcing you to look at him once more, “I am simply messing with you mell nin.” He smirked using a nickname he failed to tell you the meaning of once more. It wasn’t fair that he knew Sindarin and used it against you so often.

You bit your lip more than feeling warm by the intimate interaction between the two of you. What the hell did this all even mean? Why had he taken to you of all people? You were a peasant girl from the southernmost edge of the city. You meant nothing.

“I do not know how to act around you Strider.” You admitted out loud for the first time. You were terribly insecure. You didn’t find it easy to have a conversation with a normal person let alone the King of Gondor.

He frowned but continued to hold your hand in his, “Treat me as you had before. As the Ranger of the North, you got to know.”

“It is not that simple though and you know that.” You sighed looking away from him.

He waited a second before you turned back to him before continuing the conversation, “What plague’s your mind then?” He began giving your hand a squeeze. It was easy to melt into his touch as he was so gentle with it. He noticed the shiver and chills that ran up your arm. A positive sign if he knew of one.

Might as well get it out. He’d figure it out eventually, “Why me? I do not understand why you choose to spend time with me of all people.” It sounded so much more insecure as you said it out loud rather than let it bounce around in your head.

“I fear I am not good with words. That is why we are where we are.” He frowned but continued to hold your hand in his, “I have not expressed how much I adore spending time with you. You said it yourself. I go out of my way to come to you because you make me feel like myself. You made me feel like the person I once was. Being a King is very tiring, believe it or not. But being with you gives me back something I’ve been missing dearly, a little bit of life.” He smiled to you with those tired eyes you had grown to adore.

“I believe you.” You smiled right back at him. It wasn’t lost on you that was the most he’d spoken of his admiration of you. He was not lying when he said he was a man of few words.

He looked a little more than relieved when you gave him the smile that had been absent for a day too long. You didn’t seem as upset with him. So, he decided to do what he did the best with you, push his luck a little, “Do you believe me when I say I meant no malice keeping the truth from you? I truly just enjoyed talking and getting to know you for you with no pressure of the crown looming.”

“I believe you Strider.”

He looked skeptical, “But?” Seeing the words fall short on your lips had his heart pounding in his chest.

You chewed at your lip, “I just do not understand why you chose me. There are many more beautiful women in the kingdom. I have nothing to offer you and that frightens me a bit. I do not know why you would stay. Why you keep coming back.”

“That is simply not true my lady. I wish you could see yourself as I see you. A beauty of a woman with the kindest heart. You offer me the world plus so much more. I would be honored to have you in my life. To have you by my side.” He spoke with confidence.

Your breath caught in your throat at the bluntness of his statement to you, “What are you saying?” You hadn’t a clue what he was insinuating. A pair like the two of you could never work. You were raised as an outsider not a royal. You could never be the asset he needed on the other side of the throne.

“I wish to court you, my lady.” He spoke with that same confidence he had

“Court me?” You asked making sure you had heard him correctly.

He nodded his head fervently, “If you will have me that is.”

“Me? Are you insane Strider?” You asked him once more making sure because it did not feel like he was being serious.

“Yes you mell nin.” He was patient as he watched you retreat into your head to think on his words. You had not outright rejected him, which was a very good sign, especially for you.

Your next question took him by surprise, “What would the people think?” You let your insecurities eat at you once more as the question slipped out. You were not meant to be a Queen. There was no way people would accept you of all people.

He shrugged, “It is easy to be critical. They will not know you first, but they will come to love you just as I have. How could they not? You will make an incredible Queen.”

Your mouth gaped at his complimentary nature that seemed to have come out of nowhere. Sure, he was always kind before, but this was over the top for him. You were enjoying it more than you should have been though.

“Do you think I could do it?”

He nodded earnestly, “I would never ask if I knew you could Meleth nîn.”

Your eyes looked over his seeing he was telling the whole truth, “Are you going to tell me what that means?”

“My love.” He smiled as he watched you take in his words. The blush that rose on your cheeks was a sight to be seen. You blinked rapidly at the confession thinking he would hold it back from you like he had so often before. But this was him, Strider, confessing it all to you. Maybe he really did want you, the lowly peasant girl from the outskirts of his Kingdom.

“And Mell nin?” He was being awfully forthcoming, so you kept the questions going dying to know what he had been calling you since early on in your meetings.

He grabbed at your hand like he so often did before, “My dear.”

“Really?” Your lips came together pondering his admittance, “Did you not call me that only on our second meeting?” You did not want to believe it but when he gave you a slow nod you felt your heart pick up at his confession.

“I did meleth nîn.”

Your eyes could not hide their surprise as he freely admitted his feelings so openly towards you. So often it was like pulling his teeth out to try and get an answer to your questions. It had become clearer after learning he was the King that he had hidden so much from you.

“So soon?”

He moved his chair closer to yours. Gently, he placed a hand to the side of your face relishing in the heat your cheeks gave off at his touch. He adored the way you physically reacted to his touch. He knew what he felt was reciprocated even if you could not seem to believe him. He’d spend the next year convincing you if that was what it would take. He had made his decision and he was going to get what he wanted, if that was what you wanted of course.

“You made it easy to decide. I have not met another woman like you…” His voice trailed off as his eyes roamed your face. First they met your own gaze, and they softened as if felt like he peered right into your soul, asking for permission to peel the layers of you back. For you too had been less than forthcoming about your very own life. Then his eyes trailed down to your lips where he so desperately wanted to meet them with his own. But he knew he must wait. Wait until you say yes, and he can take you out of a proper afternoon stroll around the city center. He knew he wanted to do anything and everything to make you his, to have your heart yearn for his as much as he did for yours.

“You flatter me Strider.” You whisper as your own eyes trail down to his lips. You wondered what he tasted like. Did his lips taste as good as he smelled? How many women had he kissed? Were you one in a long line or truly one of a kind? You cursed your insecurities for being so loud at a time like this.

“I fear I may not enough.” He countered, “Will you let me court you my lady?”

After looking him over for longer than he would have liked you answered him quietly, “I would be honored my King.” You bowed your head once more.

He would have none of that though. He stood, pulling you up with him, “I told you my lady, none of that. I am to be your husband. Your equal. My Queen.” He spoke slowly making sure you heard every word.

“But that is not…” You protested before he stopped you.

He placed a hand over your mouth. A habit he was becoming accustomed to when you began to overthink, “Not in my Kingdom. Not with you as my Queen.” He shushed you by running a gentle thumb over your lips. He let out a longing sigh, “Truly, you are the most wonderful woman I have gotten to know in quite a long time my lady. You are doing me the honor by accepting.” He pulled your hand to his lips as he gently kissed the back of it leaving you utterly breathless as you wanted to melt into him. His charm was truly like no other man you had come across. Not that your experience was nearly as expansive as his seemed to be.

“I shall pick you up tomorrow mid-day. I will take you out in the gardens of my home. I will see to it that you will quite like it.” He had told you of the beautiful gardens he had maintained at his mother’s dying request. He promised should he ever inherit the throne once more he would restore the gardens of Minis Tirith. And that he did.

Your eyes went wide before they suddenly went downcast, “But my uncles crops. There is nobody who can sell them with my mother being back to work.” Your shoulders deflated in realization of you having to turn down his invitation.

“The castle will buy it up. For the rest of his days too. We will see to it. There will be no need to go back to that dreadful market.” He grabbed at both of your hands hoping it would calm your qualms, “I will even move your family closer to the castle if it will make it easier for you meleth nîn.”

“You would do that?” It was not that you didn’t believe him, but it surprised you more that he would offer so easily. Of course, you knew there were perks of being the King of a thriving Kingdom, but it seemed so outlandish at the offer.

“Meleth nîn you have to understand that I would do anything for you.” He breathed. It became so quiet you could only hear the steady beating of his heart and the gentle breaths that followed.

Your eyes finally found his and that smile he had been searching for finally came to. He was so realized at the sight he almost missed your words, “All right. I will see you tomorrow.” And at that he too could feel his heart quicken. You had accepted. He was rather unsure of if you would say yes. You were a headstrong woman, a trait he had admired greatly about you.

His hands found your face once more. You could feel your heart quicken yet again at his more than gentle touch, “I wish to kiss you my lady.”

“You may.” It spilled out of your mouth before you could attempt to stop it for it was no lie. You wanted him to kiss you.

He chuckled. Instead of kissing you he just traced your lips with his index finger, “That would be improper my lady. I wish to do this the right way with you.” He leaned down whispering in your ear reveling in the way you shivered underneath his breath.

“Did you not say it was your Kingdom? Your rules?” You used his own words against him wanting to get your way. But you knew Aragorn was stronger than a few suggestive words.

He let out a longer laugh this time, “Please my lady. I wish to treat you as the Queen you are bound to be. Do not tempt me for I can only say no a few times.”

“A shame.” You giggled feeling suddenly confident under his lust filled gaze. He had wanted you for some unknown reason, but you were tired of questioning it. You were going to accept it full heartedly.

He stifled a groan before taking a quick step back knowing he needed to keep himself in control and touching you was making it that much harder, “You have no idea what those words do to me, my lady.” His gaze darkened a touch before he blinked it away having to keep himself in control around you. He had plenty of time to lose himself later on.

“I feel as though I do your Majesty.” You pressed taking a step closer to him. He placed his hands on your shoulders keep you at bay by a length

“You will be the death of me my lady.” He gave your shoulders a squeeze, “I will come calling for you midday. By tomorrow eve the Kingdom should know my intentions.”

“The whole Kingdom?” You felt your heart begin to speed up at the thought. Your life was going to change whether for the better. Your family would never have to work again. Your mom could finally take some time off. You would become a Queen in due time.

“The whole of it.”

Your face paled in realization. You wanted to be courted by him of course. He was lovely and everything you had wanted. But this was never planned. Never a thought. How were you to prepare? How were you to handle it all?

“I will be with you every step of the way. Do not be afraid Meleth nîn.” With more of a comforting hold than one of fierce desire he wrapped you in his arms for a gentle hug. One to reassure your fears. One to calm your qualms.

“I love you, Aragorn.” Your eyes filled with unshed tears as every emotion came rushing out. How lucky were you to have found such a man?

He smiled softly while brushing away the stray tears that managed to spill over, “I’ll always just be the Ranger called Strider for you. I love you my dear. Fear not for we have a long life to live yet.”

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woncon · 1 year ago

Text

➳ bunnytalk

➶ bunny!jungkook x owner gn!reader ｡˚ °

-ˏ` ✎﹏ your hybrid is acting strange lately. When you're not enough to help, you call Seokjin over to check on Jungkook. The diagnosis is shocking.

➴ genre: hybrid au, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, vet!seokjin, shy!jk

: ̗̀➛ warnings: jk is a bunny hybrid, reader is anxious bc jk's sadness

⌨ :: 2.4K words ♡ ︵ . .

⁀➷ thanks to @wonsheep for helping me fix my grammar mistakes and for giving me advice how to convert a whole story into another language precisely °♡̷•.

➳ bts masterlist | main masterlist

You ran through the aisles of the store as if you were being chased. And you really were, but the thing giving you chase had already caught up: the gray anxiety was perched on your shoulders, pressing along your joints like a sloppy masseur.

Salad. No need for a doctor, just a salad.

This was your mantra, with which you tried to control the despair, to slow down the panic that insinuated into your blood. With trembling fingers, you shoved the right products into your basket, and then you were already scrambling for the next ingredient.

Carrot, lettuce, cucumber, tomato, purple cabbage, corn - as Jungkook likes it. As soon as you had everything, you hurried to the cash register. The marble screeched under your feet as you suddenly stopped to avoid bumping into the person in front of you in the line. The man turned to you in disdain, but that was the least of your concerns right then. You had to make the salad: that was the most important thing. The fact that you were dead tired, that you did not plan on coming to the store, what you wanted to do half an hour ago, or what the guy thinks is completely negligible.

The only person standing before you in line was that guy, and he didn't buy anything other than some yogurt, bread and beer, still, you felt that the slowing factors took too long. For example, the cashier boy who scanned the products you were about to buy with a broad half-smile.

"Light dinner?"

"Yeah. For my hybrid."

Before the boy could speak - forcing his phone number into your hand, asking for a date or keeping you there with questions or more words - you stuffed the last carrot into your bag, scattering the money in front of the other.

"Bye!"

You dashed out of the store into the early evening cool, and ran home.

You hoped something had changed, but no. Jungkook was still curled up on the sofa, unmoving. Taking one look at him was enough to increase your concerns. You threw yourself into the kitchen. The vegetables were scattered on the counter, the tools clattered from the drawer to them, and the water was gurgling noisly from the tap. Your hair and clothes stuck to your sweaty skin. Fear gripped your heart like a baby holding onto its mother.

No need for a doctor. I can solve it myself.

Although you worked hard, and almost cutting your skin in your rush, the encouraging thought meant less and less, your hope faded into inconceivability with the passing of time.

"Kook? What's wrong?" The boy could always turn to you with his problems, and this turned out to be valid the other way around as well. Jungkook's wise insight and cheerful attitude have helped you a lot since you started living together. In addition to the owner-hybrid relationship, you were also roommates and friends.

When you first saw Jungkook on the couch, you thought he was sleeping. In the beginning of you two living together, the boy often slept with his eyes open, closing them only after full trust had been established. By the way, this wouldn't have been the first time that he fell asleep on the couch. But this was different. You wanted to tuck him in, and the boy's gaze focused on you, then he stared ahead again, uninterested. He also blinked.

He wasn't asleep at all.

Jungkook didn't answer. You weren't freaked out yet. Jungkook had instinctive actions and behaviors, but he was unable to verbalize them. He once summed it up by saying that in such cases the rabbit is the master, who only communicates through action.

"If you can't talk about it, just nod or shake your head." You waited half a minute. "Did I hurt you with something?"

You were about to caress his arm, but Jungkook pushed you away before you could touch him. Then you understood, something really must have happened. Not only was the boy not in the mood, he didn't want any of your company either. This has never happened before. In addition, the warning signs were lining up: him cowering, ears flattened, rejecting your approach.

The boy's rabbit self emphasized his condition. You heard somewhere - in a documentary, from a doctor friend, or maybe from one of your exes, who knows - that rabbits can be sick and depressed if they show these symptoms and don't eat.

So you, as soon as you realized, you jumped up, pulled your coat back on as you had just taken it off, and whirled through the streets to make Jungkook's favorite salad. Because if he eats, you won't have to be afraid, you would be enough to help.

The meal was ready in twenty minutes. Sighing, you headed into the living room to regulate your breathing. You couldn't know if you were overreacting or if such intense distress was justified. You were sure of one thing: how important Jungkook is to you, along with his physical and mental health.

"Kook?" You knelt in front of the couch again, this time balancing the dish you prepared. The hybrid didn't even turn to look at you now. You felt your heart cramp up. "Please." You put your elbow on the edge of the couch, pushing the plate closer to him. "Eat up."

If something didn't happen then, you would have cried. But luckily, Jungkook reacted: his nose moved, crinkling sweetly. He smelled the salad. Then his eyes searched for the source of the scent, but his hands still didn't reach for it. You already considered this a big step forward, you were a little relieved: when you put the first bite in Jungkook's mouth, you felt better. Jungkook started chewing. The sounds of his munching was music to your ears.

You didn't speak, but the more the boy ate, the more lively he became. His black ears slowly rose, and he pushed himself up into a sitting position too. Jungkook put the last lettuce leaf and piece of carrot in his mouth with his own hand. You sat next to him and watched him happily. You didn't dare to touch him yet.

After finishing the meal and placing the bowl next to the couch, the hybrid crouched down next to you uncertainly, seemingly trying to say something, but in the end he just nudged your upper arm with his nose, pushed it, then ducked under, still poking the body part. Jungkook let you know in rabbit language that he needed care and caress. You smiled, running your fingers through the boy's hair, fluffy ears nuzzling your neck as Jungkook snuggled into your shoulders, his muscular arms wrapped around your waist, cuddling close. You caressed his face, his shoulders, all along his back. The bunny grinded his teeth in satisfaction.

Everything was resolved, order was restored, you thought.

You were wrong.

Whatever was weighing down on Jungkook's soul, the problem didn't go away, the salad was merely a distraction for him. You were confronted with this the next morning, as the boy curled up in a lethargic state on the edge of the bed. Somehow you knew that salad wasn't going to help anymore here. The boy's entire body tensed up as if he was an angry stone statue.

There was no question that you wouldn't go to work. You rang your boss in your pajamas to tell him you were taking the day off. The latter reacted with complete understanding. Immediately after the end of the conversation, you called your doctor friend to come over.

"Y/N, you know it takes two for a hybrid. A doctor specializing in humans and a veterinarian. I'm only the latter. Namjoon is currently operating, so you need to wait."

"You will be enough. I can't bring Kook in. He doesn't move, doesn't speak. I think he has more rabbit-like problems."

"Okay, I'll be there in twenty to twenty-five minutes. Stay with him until then."

"I'm not going anywhere."

You did as you said. You carelessly threw your phone on the couch and retreated to the bedroom, laying down next to Jungkook. You scanned his stiff back muscles, and now you were completely devastated because you didn't know how to help. You wanted to give him at least a comforting hug to let him know you were there for him, but your approach was rebuffed with a grunt. Jungkook didn't want any of your company again.

Seokjin arrived as he promised, but for you, time was slowed down by your own grinding agony and terrifying visions. Hearing the knocking, however, time jolted back a little into its place. You jumped up and ran to the door. The man came in a doctor's coat, carrying a bag.

"Come." You grabbed Seokjin's hand, who would've protested and said something about his shoes. "It doesn't matter, just come."

You basically dragged him into the bedroom. Like a melancholic painting, there Jungkook was: in rolled up blankets, just staring at the wall. No happy colors, just gray, black and sad blue.

"Please, help him!" You dropped onto the bed, whispering your plea to your guest, who nodded and approached the patient.

"Hi, Jungkook. I'm going to run some routine tests on you, okay?"

"In this current condition, he doesn't like to be touched." You warned Seokjin.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you." He put his hand on Jungkook's shoulder. The boy didn't react, just tolerated it.

Seokjin then checked his breathing, body temperature, and heart rate.

"That would be it, rest easy!" Seokjin headed outside and motioned for you to follow him with a jerk of his head. You obeyed. The man closed the door and settled down on the living room sofa. You sat down next to him, wringing your hands.

"What's up with him?"

"He's warm, but no fever. His heart rate is high, but that could also be from stress. I don't see any signs of sickness, but something really freaked him out. How long has he been like this?"

"I noticed yesterday when I came home that Jungkook was lying on the sofa and not moving. It's possible that he had been sitting like that for a long time. I made him a salad, then he got up and ate, but this morning he was curled up again."

"Didn't he get some sort of shock? Wasn't he acting strange before?"

You were about to say no when you remembered the past week and the incident the morning before.

"He pokes me a lot with his chin, bites me and licks my skin. Sometimes he even nips me. And after he got up yesterday, he ran around me like five times. In the meantime, he made a strange oinking sound."

You still remembered the boy's sparkling eyes when he stopped, his raised ears, his sniffing nose. His body stiffened with excitement. You didn't know how to react, so you just smiled and went to make your coffee.

And Seokjin started laughing. You stared at him in disbelief. The man snorted, still chuckling. You were about to punch him on the shoulder, but Seokjin - to his luck - spoke up.

"He loves you very much."

You knew that, you loved him too. But the way Seokjin emphasised his words somehow suggested something else.

"What do you mean?"

"You are his human owner. You act like one most of the time. To Jungkook, however, you are no longer just an owner. Biting and licking in rabbit language means a love confession. He also marked you with the scent glands under his chin as his property. And running means clear courtship. Since you didn't reciprocate that, he has to process that you rejected him, and it's hard when you're always around, wanting to touch him."

You had a revelation.

"I didn't know. If I had known - How can I undo it?"

"Why? You love him in the romantic sense?"

That was a pretty straightfoward question, but you knew the answer very well.

"Damn it! Yes! I'm head over heels for him. And yes, I do want to be with him. So how do I change my no to a yes?" All this flooded out of you: you were worried and nervous, you couldn't help it. You were at your wits end because of your own helplessness.

"Jungkook is not acting like a human right now. First, you have to make yourself understood by the rabbit living inside, only then you can tell the person your feelings. You have to become a rabbit and reciprocate the gestures with which he expressed himself to you."

Seokjin gave you instructions, then left. You were very grateful, but you couldn't express it properly yet, first you had to express something else to someone else.

You returned to the bedroom to confess to Jungkook with bunny talk. You laid down next to him again, this time taking care not to touch him with your hands, as you weren't needed as an owner or as a human. You swallowed nervously, then ventured closer to Jungkook's nape.

You bit him gently. Almost immediately after that, both of Jungkook's ears perked up, his body was tense in a different way: he was listening intently. Feeling thousands of butterflies with wings of hope in your body, you ventured further, licking along his artery. After this action, you moved away, blushing.

Jungkook sat up, facing you. His gaze was clear, peaceful, maybe a little disappointed, but mostly knowledge was visible in it.

"I love you."

"I know. Like a friend. I understand now."

"No." You scrambled to your feet, pulling him with you. You took some measurements to fit between Jungkook and the bed, moving him to the position you wanted to.

Then you ran around him several times, trying to imitate the strange sound that Jungkook also made, the kind of cooing.

When you stopped, your heart was pounding like a speeding train... Or like a rabbit hybrid who had just confessed their love.

"I love you," you whispered weakly. "I love you in this sense."

A huge grin appeared on Jungkook's face as he suddenly took you in his arms, spinning you around in the room and then finally threw himself along with you onto the bed.

In his happiness, he also did something that you as his owner and as a human immediately understood: he kissed you. Tenderly, softly, truly in love, and at the same time he held your face in the palm of his hand. As he leaned away, he covered his flushed face with his fluffy ears. He laughed.

"Kook..."

You were beautiful with a pleading blush. And your heart belonged to Jungkook.

So he kissed you again.

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alexanderwales · 4 months ago

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For Thresholder there are lots and lots of worlds, most of them just name-checked, sketched out in a handful of paragraphs as a place that people had visited before and now has little plot relevance. It's my favorite part of the series.

I'm not writing one of those chapters where I need one of those worlds, and I'm not sure I could give this one its due, but the idea I had last night was a world where people could increase and decrease the size of objects virtually at will. This doesn't work with conventional physics, but that's okay, some of the worlds can be more conceptual.

To start with, we have some ground rules: you have to be touching the thing, it can only operate on loosely defined "whole objects", and there's some kind of thing that happens with objects where they retain their physical structure to some degree, even if the square-cube law means that not everything stays functional. This is easy for things made of base elements (an iron nail becomes bigger and we can grok that it's still just made of regular iron) but it's less easy for complex organics. If you increase the size of an apple, are the individual cells increasing in size? Are new cells being generated? I think for this, I would have to say that the answer is that the world works on a level of pre-Enlightenment human understanding that the real world doesn't have, one where there aren't cells. (I am a bit sketchy on when cells were discovered, and more sketchy on what they thought was going on before that.)

As far as consequences, which is my favorite thing, I think there are a few big ones.

For one, any amount of food is enough to feed an infinite number of people. A single apple can feed a family, if they want to have nothing but apple for a meal. A single apple slice can feed a family. In fact, even the smallest crumb can undergo the process of magnification to become a full meal. But while you can make "more food" by making it bigger, the taste and texture don't necessarily stay the same. It seems to me that there's probably a sweet spot for most foods in terms of size, and eating a grain of rice the size of a loaf of bread is a very different experience than eating a bowl of rice. And if you've ever eaten one of those sourdough breads with way too large of bubbles, that's what pretty much all bread would look like if magnified, just holes with strands of gluten between them. So I think in terms of food, there would be a lot of class divide, along with a lot of processing of magnified foods to make them more palatable. Maybe a loaf-size grain of rice wouldn't appeal to many people, but you can break off bits of it and probably still make mochi with it.

Another big issue is manufacturing and the trades. In my mind, you have construction workers building the equivalent of dollhouses that then get sized up on a plot of land, but I think dollhouses are a little bit small, and most trades would work on a scale that was easiest for human manipulation. I don't think that's what we do for dolls, which tends to be nimble, finnicky work, and if you can freely scale up and scale down your tools and materials, I think you'd naturally want to work a bit bigger. Probably you would rescale on many different steps of whatever you're producing, and if this world was in the industrial age, then you would have people in factories rescaling as a human step in a factory somewhere. Another cool thing is that a chef could have a single pot and pan that they resize for their needs, and a single knife that fulfills roles we would use two or three different knifes for, though I think maybe handles would be a problem there.

Anyway, I'm not going to use this anywhere, though I do think it's cool, if maybe in a way that's not all that unique (What if Big Thing were Little Thing and What if Little Thing were Big Thing are both speculative fiction staples, see Indian in the Cupboard, The Borrowers, Ant-man, etc.). I have a bunch of outstanding questions re: conservation of momentum and some hacks that only work under certain implementations, but sometimes that's a bridge too far.

#worldbuilding #thresholder

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spinchip · 7 months ago

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Bloat

(Warnings: disrespectful discussion of self harm/suicide by a side character. murder. Lots of death.)

They're here about a series of murders. Nya doesn't know why they dragged the ninja out to this nothing town with its stone castle and still water lake, with its missing persons and their empty spaces. The ninja aren't detectives, even if Zane likes to pretend. With twelve people missing, Zane keeps his fedora at home and approaches this delicately. Nya wishes he'd put on that stupid hat.

She's also not sure why she keeps slipping up and saying murder when it's really just missing persons, officially. Eight men, four women, varying ages. All different kinds of backgrounds vanished without a trace.

The ocean mourned each dead fish, every shrimp swallowed alive, but it didn't interfere. Nya struggles to find the point to this. Everyone is somber and cold in the rainy afternoon fog. Jay tries and fails to speak to her several times, slinking away with his tail between his legs each time. She could have been nicer, less blunt, when she ended things. The river does not apologize to the stone it shaves to dust. Her thoughts still feel disjointed and off. The lake's surface is so serene it's mirrored, reflecting gray clouds and dark nights.

The first two victims were teenage boys who snuck out to buy cigarettes. They were supposed to meet a mutual friend but failed to show up. The living boy is distraught, a mess, consumed by guilt and grief and fear for his friends. Kai takes Nya by the upper arm and hauls her away from the group when she says something uncouth, insensitive, cruel. The ocean had no use for manners.

She dreams of drowning in a bathtub, but she doesn't struggle. She simply sinks under cold water, closes her eyes, and-

She wakes up vomiting brackish water over the edge of her bed and doesn't tell anyone.

The seventh victim is hardly considered a victim at all. She'd tried to kill herself three weeks before she went missing, and the rude cop with the badly trimmed beard scoffs at her inclusion in the list. Probably snuck off to the woods, he sneers, finished slitting up her wrists. Nothing to do with these other cases, just lumped in there to do it.

But her mother said she'd changed her mind. What is the significance in wanting to live when death will come for you regardless? She thinks about that girl the most, and hopes she found peace.

Nya feels more aligned with the blood under her skin than the rest of her body. Flow. Liquid. It rushes through her veins like whitewater rapids.

She dreams of inky blackness, encased by water. She wakes up vomiting water again, but Zane is sitting by her bedside with a bucket and paper towel. His eyes are cold despite how he tries to hide it. They're always cold, now.

Bad dream? He asks, reserved. It's a trap but she doesn't know how.

Go back to bed She says instead, rolling over and ignoring him for the rest of the night. He doesn't leave. She doesn't fall back asleep.

Cole gets her to eat even when bread and eggs taste like salt water and seaweed. She hates the taste of the water from the tap. The lake is covered by a thin layer of mist and it smells old and stagnant. Settled water, too much of it.

Charles, the older man who tends to the castle grounds, tells her it's a man-made lake. Put together by the previous lord and lady of the land, dug out by workers paid pennies. He worked on it when he was just a boy. He doesn't say much, and he doesn't do much around the castle. Old and feeble, his mind has gone spoiled. He looks at Nya like she's inhuman.

The last victim was the lord's son, Albert. He's the only one whose name they learn immediately, the police placing his file on top of all of the others and ranking him at priority number one. It's time to do something now that the lord's son is missing.

He'll have my head, Lord Vonnet will, if I don't return his son safely The lord's royal guard dabs his sweaty forehead with a damp towel.

You poor bastard, Nya says before she can think, get your affairs in order.

Lloyd is the one to drag her out of the room looking mortified. Zane follows him out and they exchange a handful of quiet words that Nya can't hear behind the raging waves crashing in her ears. Zane takes her out to the lake.

They are all dead he says simply.

Since before we even set foot in town she confirms.

They are in the lake.

She closes her eyes and sees still, black water. At the very bottom.

The wind blows a sour smell off the surface of the lake. It might have been beautiful, once. When it was fresh and the water was clear and blue. Before it was filled with rot.

I do not know who did it he confesses I keep having bad dreams.

I dream I'm drowning she offers.

I dream I am throwing bodies in the lake he gives back.

She stares at the horizon I feel nothing. Isn't that awful.

He shrugs the ocean does not care to investigate every whale fall.

Interesting choice of words. Whale fall. There are no fish in this lake, it's all man-made she looks at him with dull eyes you think something is eating

When I toss them in the lake i Am certain they will never be found

You're not bothered by this either

He shrugs again, an entirely human act for a man whose eyes are so detached, an Emperor does not care to investigate the death of every subject

She stands and ties her hair into a bun, I'll draw them up, can you make them float?

She doesn't bother waiting for an answer, sinking her awareness down down down to the bottom of the lake. She focuses on the vaguely human shaped masses in the water, cupping them and hauling them to the surface where she lets them go and returns to the bottom. She's so powerful now she doesn't need to step foot into the water to raise up the bodies. She begins to find cow and deer carcasses alongside men and women. She finds bones. She finds old jewelry and clothes.

Finally, she finds the animal.

It was given the name stronsay by the whales and sea lions up north, where these things are typically found. Giant sea serpents, rare in the ocean- non-existent in freshwater lakes. Especially never found in man-made ones like this, too barren to support life. It was juvenile, small, and had not yet shed its baby skin. It was not thriving in this fresh water, but it would have lived until it was too big to move in this thing.

Zanes frozen the bodies of the dead and dragged them ashore.

The lord's son is one of the dead, his body in a poor state. When the rest of the ninja and the police come, after they thaw out his body, they find a leather-bound journal where he talks about the pet he hatched from an egg he found in the cold waters on his last holiday. He wrote extensively about how hungry it was, and exactly how he fed it.

He couldn’t keep up with its appetite, Nya says, staring down at his wet, bloated body.

Icarus Zane mutters at her side.

What will become of the beast? The mustaches policeman asks.

We shall slaughter it! The Lady of the land wails, And stick its head on a pike!

It will be safely and humanely relocated Nya corrects her cooly, Do not allow anyone near the lake before it is moved. Unless you don't like them.

Nya Kai warns.

Later, while Lloyd oversees the beasts removal and the others are likewise occupied, Zane asks do you think we are like them?

Dead?

Changed forever. Call it rot, putrefaction, trauma- altered and, ultimately, lost He murmurs.

I would prefer to just be dead she says without thinking, a thrum of shock at the admission the first tangible emotion she's had in days. She remembers the seventh victim. She'd changed her mind.

Zane grins and it's all teeth, a baring of bone.

Where does that leave us, if we are changed? She looks away, staring out at the lake.

Alone He says simply.

We have each other, don’t we? You understand me. I understand you.

We do He looks at her and she looks at him.

The kiss tastes like saltwater and blood. She kisses him again.

#ninjago #zane julien #nya ninjago #spinchip fic #death #suicide #self harm #braincellshipping #this was a really experimental piece sorray

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chaotic-starlight24 · 6 months ago

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Ponyboy Curtis General Headcanons

Alrighty! Glad so many of you like the Dallas headcanons! Darry is next after Ponyboy then I will probably do another vote :)

Warnings: Spoilers for the book

I did literal scientific research just to figure out some of this stuff :,) I didn't have to but I still did

He is always thinking of the worst case scenario. Not always, but if he’s left alone long enough he’s decided that Darry got hit with a meteor and Soda probably drowned in motor oil.

He was really gullible as a young kid, like one time Dally convinced him that he (Dally) was a vampire. But then he debunks what he learns pretty quickly. “I’ve never seen you drink blood, you don’t really have “fangs”, and you really like garlic bread!” “OK kid, ya got me.”

For being so young, he hurts his neck and back a lot. He sleeps a little weird, BAM neck pain! He sits upside down, POW his back aches. He sleeps in a soldier position and doesn’t move unless Soda moves him. He also always needs support for his back, usually sitting with his back to the wall or laying down. (Same though)

As we know, this little man smokes a lot more than just about everyone in the gang combined. Which is already extremely worrying on its own, but also really surprising that he manages to be a good track runner. I might ask some of my track runner friends later for info on how they breathe when running. But let’s just say he really enjoys running but also manages to end up wheezing at the end of every practice. He has to take like a 30 minute break after practice just to breathe normally. The coach just assumes he has asthma and probably hints that he needs to get checked out.

To add a little more to the whole track runner thing, he doesn’t say track AND FIELD. Which means he is doing the track portion and therefore a whole lot of running. I’m still researching the science behind it on what type of running he could manage though. Long distance takes shorter breaths through your nose and enhances your stamina. Sprinters run for shorter amounts of time and need deeper breathing at a quick pace. So he would most likely be a long distance runner. *EDIT* I checked with my track runner friends, I'm correct he would be a long distance runner

Ponyboy is (most likely) left-handed in the movie. And I’m going to take that and run with it. Most items with handles are made for right-handed people. So I feel like Darry or Soda have several times heard a BANG and a small ow afterwards, walked into the kitchen and Pony has once again hit himself in the head with the fridge door. Scissors are also hard to use for him. He never liked arts and crafts.

He had imaginary friends as a kid. An entire cast of them to be exact. A part of him wanted more friends that weren’t just his brothers’ friends. He wanted to be less of a little brother and more of an equal if you know what I mean. He still has those feelings nowadays but he is more thankful for the gang.

He does have some friends at school but he’s more of the “third friend” than anything. So he spends a lot of time at school doing work, reading, or staring into space. The track guys and him are good company to each other but don’t really hang out at any other times. But Pony appreciates them nonetheless.

He writes a lot of notes in the most random places. Like random ideas he gets he just grabs a piece of napkin and scribbles it down. But then it gets left behind and taken out of context. Like Darry once found a piece of paper on a kitchen chair that just said “The ceiling tile shatters and hits him.”

He has a really contagious smile. Like he starts grinning the rest of the gang can't help but start smiling too.

After Johnny and Dally’s death, he started to see people in more of a gray scale instead of just black and white. He realized there is more to a person than meets the eye. He can still be a little hater but he is a bit nicer about people.

Him and Cherry started running into each other every so often and will ramble about the most random things, then just walk away like they didn’t just say some analogy between books and people.

He would eventually become a writer of books and own a library. He ends up offering free reading and writing classes for the kids like Dally and Johnny who never had/have the chance to finish school. He calls it “The C&W Program '' saying it stands for Creation and Wisdom program if you ask but the real name is Cade&Winston.

He still goes swimming even after the incident but he doesn’t ever go underwater.

His favorite books that he constantly rereads are Great Expectations, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Pickwick Papers. But he also just likes most books.

(The girl he mentions at the beginning that called him a hood) I feel like she was a middle class teen similar in age to Pony named Esther. She hangs out with the soc girls more. She actually felt bad about calling him a hood since it just kind of rolled out of her mouth and apologized later on. It greatly surprised Pony and they ended up becoming really good friends. (Possibly starting a relationship later but that is up to you)

He never stops smoking all the way but after a wake-up call from the gang he starts smoking a lot less.

He learned how to read before he even started school. He just loved it and all of the worlds that are created through writing. The funny thing is, no one can figure out who taught him in the first place! Mr. and Mrs. Curtis just guessed he got a hold of some of Darry’s books or something. But Soda was actually the one to teach him. Soda is not in any way an extremely good student. But he is good at explaining things. So a really young Pony saw him reading the comics and asked how he knew what it was saying. Soda taught him the basic words in the comics and Pony went off and grabbed one of the novels from the family’s shelves. He then proceeded to teach himself how to sound each word out and then ask Soda what it meant. Soda was really happy when Pony got a hang of it very quickly. After a couple years, Darry noticed some notes in his books and took a close look at what it was saying. They were annotations IN CURSIVE. He didn’t write them, Soda never picks up bigger books, and their parents have their own books. Eventually Darry caught Pony doing it and was like “WHAT THE HECK??? YOU’RE A LITERAL 3RD GRADER???”

One time he had to do a presentation in 5th grade about the life of a famous person important to them. People got extra credit if they dressed up like their person and he was extremely embarrassed because he was the only one to do so. He dressed up as Paul Newman. (This legit happened to me though, it was so cringey)

He has naturally wavy hair but he uses so much grease it looks stick straight. It’s also so greased that his hair is actually shiny.

Him and Steve start getting closer post canon as Pony gets older. Mainly because Steve sees him less as an annoyance and the gang is overall a lot closer together.

If Johnny had survived ( I have a whole explanation that I will share later) Pony would help him out all the time. Johnny may be wheel-chair bound but Pony includes him in whatever he can. He is always there for Johnny since Johnny ends up with so many problems. (Johnny would probably be adopted by a couple who lost their child and have the dedication to take care of him) With spinal cord injuries usually comes respiratory issues, pressure sores, etc. He would help Johnny through the 5 stages of grief (many people who lose limbs or lose an ability do this) and help him set up a routine on how to get through everyday things.

He ends up being a middle ground between Sodapop and Darry when he grows up. Like height and build wise.

#the outsiders #ponyboy curtis #dallas winston #johnny cade #darry curtis #sodapop curtis #steve randle #two bit mathews #the outsiders headcanon #the outsiders headcanons #the outsiders 1983 #ponyboy curtis headcanons #ponyboy michael curtis #starlight's writing #original content

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feyburner · 2 months ago

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yo I feel like YOU are the one to ask: the pita bread recipe the NYTimes uses is pretty simple (active dry yeast, flour, sugar, salt, oil, mix, cook). Is there a special trick to making BOMB ass pita bread?

I’ve actually been on a pita journey myself recently. So far the best recipe/resource I’ve found is Anissa Helou.

I think the recipe is less important than the technique. Most recipes are basically the same with slightly varying hydrations. I’ll post the recipe I’ve been using (basically Anissa’s) below.

What I’ve learned through trial and error:

- Pita needs a longer rise time than many flatbreads—the first rise should be 2 hours for the dough to truly double in volume, and rest/proof times are an additional 45 minutes. This is because in order to get the puff, your dough really does need to be as airy as possible going into the oven.

- The trick to getting the puff is VERY high temperatures—they’re traditionally baked in those clay ovens that get up to like 700-800° and cook the pitas in literally 30 seconds. A home oven can’t do that, but you’ll need to turn your oven as high as possible, like 500°+ and bake for as short a time as possible to avoid drying them out and turning them into crackers. Think 4-5 minutes per batch with you watching the whole time. The moment they puff, regardless of color, they’re done.

- I tried cooking them on the stovetop in a cast iron and got a nice flatbread but they never puffed. The stovetop just doesn’t deliver enough instant top-and-bottom heat.

- Don’t roll out too thin. I saw one tip that was like “roll them out very thin so heat penetrates the center instantly” and was skeptical but tried it, and sure enough: if you roll them out super thin, there’s not enough airy dough to puff and they’ll just instantly harden in the center!

With all that in mind, here’s my recipe. This recipe has gotten me a batch where almost every single one puffed!

PITA BREAD

**Pita requires longer rising & proofing times than most flatbreads in order to get the airiness and puff. Rise is 2 hours and proofing is 45 minutes (divided).

INGREDIENTS

500g flour

300g lukewarm water

20g sugar or honey

1/4 cup (50g) olive oil

10g yeast

10g salt

DIRECTIONS

1. Mix all ingredients together until combined. Cover and rest 10 min. Mix/knead 6-8 minutes until a smooth, elastic dough forms.

2. Grease bowl with cooking spray and return dough ball to bowl, turning to coat with oil on all sides. Cover and let rise 2 hours in a warm place until truly doubled in size. Give it a fold after 1 hour. (I usually preheat the oven to 100°, then turn it off and put the bowl in there with the door cracked.)

3. Gently deflate and divide into 8-10 equal balls. Cover with a damp (not dripping) dishtowel and let rest 15 min.

4. Roll out each ball into a disc about 6” across and 1/2” thick (index fingernail width, thicker than tortillas).

5. Cover with dishtowel and let rest another 30 min. (Oil the work surface or rest on parchment paper so they don’t stick—once they’re proofed you want to handle as little as possible to not deflate).

6. Preheat oven, with a baking sheet inside, to 500° or its highest setting (Broil).

7. Place 3-4 pitas at a time on the hot baking sheet, flipping as you transfer them so they’re top side down. (After proofing the air will be concentrated at the top so this way the air will rise up through the center as they bake.)

8. Bake 4-7 minutes, keeping an eye on them. As soon as they puff, they’re done. Do not overbake.

9. Cover with a dish towel as soon as they’re out of the oven to keep them moist. Serve immediately.

Those ^ are arayes, or meat-stuffed pan-fried pitas. The recipe is in my recipes tag, it’s from Moribyan.

#recipes #feyburner ask

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trungles · 10 months ago

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Processing Process, and More Processing

I made this post free and publicly readable on Patreon, but I'm reposting the whole thing right here too because, well, it's a free post, and I don't want to make you click away from your dashboard if you don't need to. But also if you want to support my work, here's the link to the post.

It's a little bit about cartooning, a little bit about drawing, and then it turns into a eulogy for a chicken.

I wrote “process” more than once, and now the word looks funny and is beginning to lose its meaning to me.

This post is about a few things, and it’s a little bit on the sad end of things. Nothing dire! No worries. There’s just a little mention of death, just as a heads up.

Before we get to that, though, I’ve been doing some work and had some thoughts.

I’m often asked about how I draw the noodle hair on my characters, and the answer is typically that I draw each and every line with my hand. But there are considerations of movement and volume that go into it beyond its texturally decorative purposes. I love being able to convey shape and motion with it. It’s less evident, I think, in my illustration work, but I think it’s much more obvious when I do sequential work. In the above image, you can see me working out a sequence of Angelica having a series of thoughts. Her head sort of moves, and her eyes follow. You can see I’d planned out the general shape of the hair and how I’d like it to move.

I wound up moving the drawings a little bit so that the readers eyes will actually follow the character’s eyes as it moves gently rightward on the page. The hair is there to accentuate the movement, like so:

It’s a consideration I employ in all my drawings, but especially when I’m drawing hair and fabric. I don’t use a lot of action lines, so this becomes an important way to give the reader the information that someone is moving through a space. Resistance, gravity, and motion are all things I have to keep in the back of my head when I’m doing these little drawings. I think the planning actually takes more time than the inking, which can happen pretty quickly once I map it all out.

In other news, I’m starting to take my extracurricular artistic development a little more seriously in the silliest way possible.

You wouldn’t know it, but I studied painting college—a medium I switched to after the printmaking professor and head of the Art Department at the time told me I probably shouldn’t be an artist (he gave me a hard candy for my trouble). I recently bought a bunch of little dolls, dressed them up, and am returning to my painting roots. It feels really nice to work in big blobs of color instead of lines. It’s an exercise I came up with in response to a common lament from art students.

One of the more aggravating generational tensions described to me by art school students is when professors describe a student’s portfolio as “too anime” without much explanation. I know what the professor means. They’re trying to get at how referencing your favorite anime or cartoons means that your style becomes a simulacrum, an imperfect copy of a copy, and you never learn to develop your own sense of judgment about where a line or a shape needs to go. And we can tell. It’s a way of working that is perfectly fine for cartooning because cartooning is closer to hand-writing than it is to drawing. I always turn to Charles Schulz’s work for an example. Those figures aren’t literally depicting children—with their little chessboard-pawn proportions and bread-loaf feet—but we read them as endearing children because we’ve come to a consensus between us, the readers, and Charles Schulz, the author, that those shapes mean those things. There are no whiskers or paws in the shape of the word “CAT” but you look at those three letters together, and you know the thing to which it refers. That’s an aspect of cartooning, too. Of course, what elevates it from mere writing is, in part, due to the fact that those little figures do not lose their meaning the more you depict them.

To really draw well, though, you have to do those fundamentals. You have to draw from life. There’s no way around it. It helps you develop a stronger sense of where you like to lay down your lines and shapes, no matter how stylized you like to work. It grows your judgment, and every artist’s best tool is their own well-honed sense of artistic discernment about their own work.

But that doesn’t mean you have to surrender the stuff you like or the things that inspire you to make art! I tell students that if they want to hold fast to their anime style AND hone their fundamentals to develop their eye as an artist, they should buy little figurines and toys of their favorite characters, prop those up against a light source, and draw them as still life objects. Like, yes, do the vases and the figure drawings and all those, I still think those are important. But if this is what you need to keep you interested in drawing from life, having some toys around is a great way to do it! Also, bless those sculptors and toy designers. They’re the best.

I think there’s something to be said about remembering to imagine the physicality of the things we draw, in all its dimensions and in the way it catches the light or casts a shadow. It helps sentimentalize things, too. Makes them feel more real, even emotionally.

Edwina died on Tuesday night, after a few final snuggles, surrounded by her favorite treats. She was about five years old, which is old for a chicken, and she had a very comfortable life. We buried her this morning. She was a good hen, J’s personal favorite.

It really feels like the end of an era. She was the last surviving member of our very first flock. After the other hens died, she really seemed to prefer the company of people over other hens. She is survived by Snooki and Nelly, our two other young birds who get along quite well together, actually.

A baby chick costs between three and five American dollars, typically. An egg-laying hen could be between twenty and fifty bucks, depending on the breed. There are roughly 26 billion chickens living in the world today, about 518 million of them here in the United States. They come pretty cheap. And a part of me was moved to cynicism, entertaining the thought that it might be strange to feel sadly over a little animal that, at most, might be roughly equivalent to the price of a fancy lunch and a coffee.

I watched the 1974 musical version of The Little Prince recently, and I remember it mostly because Bob Fosse was in it and scared the crap out of me as a kid—he played the snake that would take the Little Prince back into the sky when his body gets too heavy to take with him. Gene Wilder plays the Fox whom the Little Prince befriends and tames among a garden of roses. The Fox explains that he is like any other fox in the world, but he is changed—made special and particular to the Little Prince—with time, effort, and patience. So, too, is the Prince’s little flower special to him. Out of all the flowers in the universe, she was the one he watered and protected under a little glass jar. And that’s enough.

I knew my little hen would not live that long. It could be very easy to take a broad view of the life expectancy of a hen and distance myself from it by virtue of its mortality and its commonness. People who raise livestock do it all the time. But I also think it’s wonderful that we should all be capable of loving very small, very brief little things. Edwina is not, to my mind, the rough equivalent of a fancy lunch and a coffee. She was our little hen. For her whole life, she was ours. And I’m so happy she was here.

#cartooning #drawing #patreon #cw death #cw pet death #comics #trungles #artists on tumblr

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