#i log on once a day generally at most. I don’t mind getting these asks and plan to post all of them that I can check eventually

[hottestthingalive]

Do want to make a public post about this: I have gotten a LOT of asks and DMs the past couple months about various campaigns for both Palestinians and others in need, and I don’t mind that—if there’s any way I can help folks out, I want to. However, I will warn anyone who is thinking about DMing me that I rarely post these immediately, if at all: I do not have notifications for tumblr turned on, meaning I rarely see the asks I’m getting in real time, so before I post a fundraiser I have to do further research and reach out to people involved to make sure it’s both verified and still actively operating. This is often difficult to do on a quick basis as I am also a very busy person (as a full-time student and employee), so please keep that in mind before reaching out to me, and please do not spam me. Thank you, and have a lovely day <3

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

Hi! Recently I became curious about how ancient people hunted in the world of TwistedWonderland.🧔🏹🦣

If they didn't have magic in Monster Au, they used their wits and ingenuity. Animal hunting and fishing🦣 🏹 🐟. Pits, a stone maze so for catching fish and cattle.

You can see the reaction to the methods and techniques of trapping characters.

Don't mind me trying to work my way into a good groove and answering asks in my inbox 😅

It’s simply amazing what human ingenuity can do to get a task done, especially when it comes to surviving out in nature! Throw these craft humans into a world of monsters and magic, and you pretty much have what most epics and legends in our world describe mythical creatures and feats of strength. 😆

Once Yuu arrives in Twisted Monsterland, they may start seeing old paintings depicting clashes between humans and monsters. Ranging from spears and swords mistakenly melding into flesh like malformed limbs and claws to wearing leather and gleaming silver armor mistaken as insectoid carapaces, it’s no wonder humans were used in stories to scare little children into being good. These ancient humans looked positively monstrous—perhaps even more so than any monster in existence. Perhaps that is why so many were both terrified and confused as to why this scrunkly of a creature calling itself a human didn’t even match the few surviving paintings from a bygone era.

Pair that with the stories told on how ancient humans would hunt for food or built traps to capture monsters and comparing that to how Yuu looks? It’s easy for the monsters to brush off these abilities of magicless humans as being anything more than just mere fantasy or exaggeration. There’s simply no way a human can build traps and webs like spider monsters, create fire that lasts for days without smoke, or chase their prey for days on end without breaking a sweat!

Turns out, those myths are more true than the monsters realize. Especially if their resident human just so happens to have survivalist training under their belt…

///Camp Vargas///

“Uh…why are you digging a hole in the ground?”

“Making a fire pit.”

Ace glanced at Yuu as they continued to shovel more dirt out of a relatively large hole. “So…if you’re building a pit, then why did you make a smaller hole right here?” he asked, pointing at said opening in the dirt. “And if you’re building a fire, why aren’t you making one above ground? Are you trying to bury it or something?”

The shovel broke the last of the dirt wall between the holes before Yuu straightened up, gathering several long branches they’d collected with several large cuts of logs and starting to set them up at an angle. “Oh, I’m still building one above ground. I’m just making two different ones.” Pointing at the hole they’d just dug out, they said, “We call this one a ‘Dakota Fire Hole’. Typically this one is used for outdoor cooking, since it produces little smoke and doesn’t need a lot of fuel.” Setting some sticks and tinder inside the larger of the two holes, the took a piece of flint and began striking it with a stone. Soon a small yet hot fire was blazing inside the hole, just barely licking the air outside of the hole before settling down into a steady flicker. “The second hole generates airflow, which keeps the fire fueled with oxygen so it’ll burn longer.”

“Then what’s the other one for?”

“A self-feeding campfire.” They began loading chopped logs on both sides of the now V-shaped structure they’d built. “It uses gravity to drop new logs to keep the fire going, which means it’ll last all night. Pretty handy so you don’t have to keep getting up to replenish the log pile!”

One ear lowering in confusion, Ace stared at Yuu as they struck up another inferno on the bottom log. Somehow the fire didn’t crawl or spread to the rest of the logs. “…how exactly did you learn this?” he finally asked.

“Survivalist training. Why do you ask?”

Snap! Twang! “Fynaaah!?” Fwoosh!

“Uh oh. Grim! I told you to stay away from there! That’s where I set up the snare trap.”

“Why did you set it up so close to the tent?!” the chimera yowled as students stared in shock and surprise.

“To keep away intruders.” A sudden cacophony of clattering and clanging rang out, followed by a startled mix of a canine yelp and deer-like squeal before a thud hit the ground. “Epel! Are you okay?!”

“What is this?!” the einfield snarled, twisting and trying to untangle himself from the string of empty cans and bells. “Git it offa me!”

“Hold still, or you’ll strangle your wings! Ace, could you get Grim down for me? The snare hook is on the ground behind the tree on the tent’s left side.”

As Yuu went to free Epel from the new contraption—which Ace heard them comment was their ‘alarm system’—he shook his head in confusion and disbelief. What was even happening? Did Yuu pick up some strange trick from one of the spider monster students when he wasn’t looking? “I’m not taking another step until you tell me what other traps you set up,” he finally called out, warily looking around for more strings and rope near his large rabbit feet. “I don’t want to get tangled up in anything like those two did!”

“Oh don’t worry, I didn’t have time to set up any other snares or alarms yet,” Yuu called out, carefully freeing Epel’s arm before working on freeing the rest of his body. “You’re safe, so long as you-”

Shoof! “WAH!?!” a familiar loud voice screamed, the sound echoing so far that it reverberated through the trees. WHUD!! “Urk…HUMAN!!! What foul trickery is this?!?”

“…oh, right. I forgot about the pit trap I dug earlier,” Yuu said as multiple eyes stared at them.

“Why in Twisted Wonderland would you need to build something like that?!” Riddle all but shouted once it sank in what just happened.

“Hey, if a bear comes rampaging around the camp because you guys aren’t putting your food away, don’t come crying to me if there’s no pit trap to keep it busy!”

Needless to say, after everyone was rescued, no one could fathom how Yuu learned such archaic—if frighteningly deceptive—trapping methods for a camping trip. It wasn’t until the last night of Camp Vargas that they understood why when the remaining students used the trap to buy themselves some time from the “beast” before running to the swamp.

/-------------/

Now of course the defensive traps were pretty impressive, Ruggie had to admit that much. But traps that catch fish with little to no effort? Even he was impressed by the speed at which Yuu was able to harvest so many fish in one sitting, and with a simple stick and twine “fence”? Let alone the basketful of fish they’d caught by hand after making a shady spot with a tarp propped over the water!

“Sure, I could use a fishing rod if I wanted,” Yuu commented as they continued whittling away at the tip of a sturdy branch. “A net would also come in handy, but since we’re going to be here for a short time, I wouldn’t be able to make a decent one to use it effectively.” Jabbing their carving knife over at the fire pits they had dug earlier, they added, “Besides, if I don’t adapt and use what I have available, then I can lose out on a good food source and my chances of survival are slim to none.”

“Huh. Yeah, that makes sense,” he agreed, the leucrocuta looking between his catch and Yuu’s. The human’s collection was quickly catching up to Floyd’s, which was surprising since he’d stopped earlier due to boredom. “This came from that survival training thing you mentioned earlier, right?”

“Mm-hm! I can teach you a few things I learned if you want.”

“Shehehehe~! Sounds great! Just one question though: what’cha making? Some kind of walking stick?”

“Oh, this? It’s going to be a spear.”

“…spear?” The word sounded vaguely familiar, though he couldn’t quite place why as he tried to examine it. It didn’t look like anything he’d seen any other monster use or make before. “What’s it for?”

“It’s used for different things, like defense or attacking.” Cutting a few more chips off, Yuu stood up and examined their work. They had whittled one end of the branch to the point it was needle-sharp, a sight that weirdly sent chills down his spine when he looked at it. “I made this one specifically to go spear fishing. Here, I’ll show you!”

As they walked into the water, he expected the human to immediately strike into the water like they had when they did the shadow fishing. However, they simply stood still, eyes locked onto the water’s surface with the spear raised over their shoulder. He watched in silence, instinctively knowing that Yuu was hunting for their prey yet not understanding how this would work. Suddenly, they tensed, their shoulders tightening as they raised their spear higher in a smooth motion. For the briefest moment, he swore he saw the human with the needle-sharp arm in his history book instead of Yuu, his heart leaping in his throat at the vivid imagery. Before he could react, the spear was sent flying forward-

Splosh!

And struck the riverbed, Yuu immediately rushing forward to grab the upright tool before pulling it out. To his shock and utter amazement, the spear had pierced the body of a large trout, still flopping even as Yuu carried it back to shore with a triumphant grin on their face. Their smile faded to one of concern as they asked, “You okay, Ruggie? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Chuckling nervously, Ruggie uttered, “Uh…you could say that.” A ghost of the past maybe, he thought as he picked up the baskets. “Hey, uh, why don’t we go ahead and cook these? I think we’ve got enough!”

“Oh. Sure, sounds good. Oh! I know a few tricks to preserve the meat for later!”

“Great! Just…do me a favor and not point that spear thing at anyone, okay?”

////////

I’m pretty sure there’s a lot more that could be said or done, but you get the picture. XD Hope you all enjoy!

[mariacallous]

Americans need to log off. Unplug. Shoot the TV. It seems impossible. Less than five days from Election Day in the US, most people can’t help but check the news—or TikTok or X—at least once a day. Swipe, refresh, repeat. By Tuesday, the connectedness will be constant. Mentally, political stress takes a huge toll. Given that anxiety can be exacerbated by uncertainty, the 2024 election feels worse than it has ever before. There’s a reason for that.

I don’t just mean the general sky-is-falling stuff—the militias on Facebook organizing ballot-box stakeouts, the conspiracy theory spreaders, the cybercriminals potentially waiting in the wings. Some version of those nerve-janglers has been around for years. Now, though, there’s a new factor upping users’ blood pressure as they doomscroll: AI misinformation.

Clearly US voters worry about how misinformation might impact who wins the election, but Sander van der Linden, author of Foolproof: Why Misinformation Infects Our Minds and How to Build Immunity, notes that the anxiety around AI might be more existential. “If you look at the problem from a more indirect perspective, such as sowing doubt and chaos, confusion, undermining democratic discourse, lowering trust in the electoral process, and confusing swing voters,” he says. “I think we’re looking at a bigger risk”—one that fuels polarization and erodes the quality of debate.

According to an American Psychological Association survey released last week, 77 percent of US adults feel some level of stress over the future of the country. It gets worse. Sixty-nine percent of adults surveyed said the race between Vice President Kamala Harris and Donald Trump was a cause of “significant stress”—a figure that’s up from 52 percent in 2016, when Trump beat Hillary Clinton. Nearly three-quarters of respondents thought the election could spur violence; more than half worried it could be “the end of democracy in the US.”

Christ.

On top of all of this sits the threat of AI-generated falsehoods. For more than a year researchers have warned of election misinformation from artificial intelligence. Beyond the polls, such misinformation has played a role in the Israel-Hamas war and the war in Ukraine. 404 Media called the aftermath of Hurricane Helene “the ‘fuck it’ era of AI-generated slop.” (Actually) fake news lurks around every corner. Earlier this year, the World Economic Forum released a report claiming AI misinformation is one of the biggest short-term threats the world faces. Bad election information and fake images can also bring in serious money for X users, according to a BBC report this week.

This was the first year the APA asked about AI and election anxiety and one of the things the organization found was that seven in 10 people experienced stress over the fact that fake information can seem so believable. One-third of social media users said they don’t know what to believe on those platforms. “It extends beyond just information and social media,” says Vaile Wright, APA’s senior director of health care innovation. “A majority of Americans said they don't trust the US government. So there's sort of this whole lack of trust in what used to be very trusted institutions—the media, government—and that, I'm sure, is not helping with people's stress as it relates to this election this year.”

When the US election season ramped up there were AI-generated robocalls (the Federal Communications Commission outlawed them) and now election officials are preparing staff to deal with any number of deepfakes they may encounter. X’s AI model Grok is reportedly boosting conspiracy theories. (It’s also, according to Musk, working on its MRI-reading skills.)

After months of fretting about AI taking jobs, now everyone has to worry about it taking faith in the democratic process?

For nearly two decades, one social media platform or another has ended up dominating a US election. Back in 2008, it was a still-young Twitter. During most of the twenty-teens, it was Facebook (and a bit of Instagram) and Twitter. More recently, TikTok has become a news-spreading tool. In each election cycle, people have swiped to keep up—and also confronted new levels of toxicity. Former Trump advisor Steve Bannon, who got out of prison this week, once told reporter Michael Lewis Democrats didn’t matter, “the real opposition is the media. And the way to deal with them is to flood the zone with shit.” That shit went online.

Now, that shit doesn’t even have to come from political operatives. Machines can make it. When people scroll around on their smartphones for a flicker of hope about whether or not their candidate will win, whatever discouragement or reassurance they find may not even be real.

The APA’s survey found that 82 percent of US adults were worried people may base their values on inaccurate information, and more than one-fifth said they’d believed something they read online or on social media when it wasn’t true. Another poll conducted in early September found that only about a quarter of voters feel confident that they can tell the difference between real AI-generated visuals, like the fake images Trump shared claiming Taylor Swift fans are supporting him. “That’s not a good sign,” van der Linden says.

If your fears about the election seem even worse than they did in 2020, this may be why. Misinformation takes a mental toll. “Political anxiety” exists, and research indicates it can impact those who aren’t anxious otherwise. Couple that with a media landscape where newspapers are coming under fire for not endorsing a political candidate and the picture of a nervous electorate becomes very clear. Trust no one; just wait to see what happens—then decide if you believe it.

[gingerel]

promptis 📷🎣

It’s just a hand.

Noctis has had much scarier things in his hand. That snake someone bought in for show and tell, the wrong end of Ignis' dagger, a not very well-balanced magic-flask which exploded not in his hand, thankfully.

In most ways, Noctis is brave, he’s not afraid of much.

Prompto’s hand is right there on the table, a few inches away from the soda dripping condensation into the table, turned half on its side in prime position for someone to take and Noctis just cannot bring himself to do it.

Noctis doesn’t think Prompto will exactly mind if they hold hands. Three days ago, they kissed, more of an accident than anything, and while neither of them has had the nerve to bring it up—or do it again—the fact Prompto hasn’t stopped showing up has to mean something positive.

Prompto’s other hand moves, fingers drumming against the tabletop, but it would be awkward for Noctis to reach out and take that one, so he can’t focus on it for long.

“What time did you say Ignis was coming to get you?” Prompto asks.

Noctis drags his eyes up to Prompto’s face—not exactly a hardship—and tries to make his brain process the words. Prompto smiles at him, tilting his head a little while he waits for an answer and have his eyelashes always been this long?

“Noct?” Prompto nudges.

“I um—I don’t remember,” Noctis admits.

Prompto rolls his eyes good-naturedly and the hand Noctis has been gawking at pretty much all afternoon shifts to grasp the soda between them so Prompto can take a long drink. They’re sharing, which is basically kissing anyway.

Noctis should just take his hand, once it’s empty again.

“Do you have to go?”

Noctis blinks at his best-friend and blurts, “What?”

“If you can’t remember what time you have to leave it’s not important, right?” Prompto explains. “So, you could maybe just stay.”

“Here?” Noctis asks. Prompto nods. “With you?”

Prompto’s cheeks turn pink, but he nods again.

Noctis could stay, he’s done it before. He can order them food and log into his Moogleflix, and they can just move over to the couch and—

“Dude, what is up with you?” Prompto wonders.

Noctis wants to hold his hand. It’s hard to think about anything else.

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re so spacey,” Prompto muses, laughing just a little.

That hand lifts off the table again, gently pushing back some of the hair fallen across Noctis’ face. It’s not an unusual touch, in general Prompto is generous with them, tactile and affectionate in an uncommon way that Noct has long since grown accustomed. What is unusual is the way Prompto lets his hands drift back a little, fingertips scratching briefly but wonderfully against Noct’s scalp before a thumb traces his ear and the hand starts to fall away.

Noctis snatches it by the wrist before it can completely depart, heart beating too fast for sitting still.

“Sorry,” Prompto mumbles and his pink blush turns crimson.

“Don’t be,” Noctis breathes. “Do you—the other day…”

Prompto tries to tug his hand free, but Noctis doesn’t let him, just shifts so they’re palm to warm palm, thumb hooked over finger and tension almost palpable in every digit. Prompto’s palm is soft, but his fingers are a little rougher than Noctis was expecting. It’s not bad, not even a little bit, just another facet of Prompto for Noctis to file away in his mind and treasure for the rest of his life.

Noctis flexes his hand and Prompto squeezes back, his throat bobbing.

“We kissed,” Prompto says, voice cracking a little.

“Yes,” Noctis agrees. “We can—do it again?”

This time, when Prompto nods, it’s a rapid bob up and down. He tugs at Noctis hand, and they lean into each other eagerly, almost too fast. Their noses crunch together right before their lips touch but it’s literally kind of perfect.  

[mmmichyyy]

au tag game

tagged by @creepkinginc @energievie @juliakayyy @lingy910y 🖤

rules (more or less): use this au generator to assign you an au, this fan fiction trope generator to give you a trope/situation/sometimes another au, feel free to keep clicking until you get something that inspires you.

then try to come up with the title, plot, vibe, and details of a fic including whatever the generators gave you. you don’t actually have to write it, just put the concept into the world! this is basically just a thought experiment.

au generator gave me: small town au

fic trope generator gave me: write a murder mystery.

title: something something black lodge/red room/twin peaks related because that's where my mind goes when i think of small towns/murder

let's plot:

-mickey is a recluse in [insert name of town here], keeps to himself most of the time, lives in a log cabin deep in the woods and doesn't go into the town square often except to buy supplies and food once a month

-anyone who knocks on his door will be met with mickey's shotgun, so the townspeople all know to steer clear of mickey's property

-one night a redhead shows up at his door in the middle of the night, with bloody clothes and a frantic look on his face, mumbling incoherently and can't seem to stay still, and mickey should've shot the stranger right there and then but for some reason he doesn't, feels some sort of connection with the guy

-mickey shoves the stranger in the bathroom with clean clothes and while the redhead showers, mickey empties the pockets - wallet, a pack of smokes, lighter, a small notebook - before burning the bloody clothes in his firepit out back. probably not the smartest idea but the clothes are beyond repair anyways

-mickey peeks in the guy's wallet and finds out from his driver's license that his name is ian and he's from chicago

-ian doesn't meet mickey's eyes, doesn't say anything when he gets out of the shower but mickey awkwardly drapes a blanket over him and lets him crash on the couch, while mickey lies awake in his bed and doesn't get much sleep

-the next day is still awkward, mickey doesn't know what to say to ian, until the local radio station blasts there's been a murder in the small town

-tense silence. mickey looks up and ian quietly says "i didn't do it"

-cue in mickey hiding ian in his cabin for days and them getting to know each other, gaining each other's trust, but ian won't say a word about what happened that night

-one day the sheriff knocks on mickey's door asking if he's seen anything suspicious, even accusing mickey of being the murderer since he's the town weirdo recluse and a lot of people suspect it's him

-ian overhears and wants to turn himself in but mickey stops him, waits until the sheriff leaves, forces ian to tell him what exactly happened and if ian actually murdered that man...

i'll tag @spoonfulstar @sam-loves-seb @gardenerian @whatthebodygraspsnot @palepinkgoat @deedala @thisdivorce @squidyyy23 if y'all want to give this a try 🙂

[onmytape]

Highlights from The Star: "Connor Bedard wasn’t raised to be a hockey phenom. He made that decision himself."

Bedard fell in love with the game with minimal help. His first skating lesson at four years old went badly — “I was crying when I got off the ice,” he says — but at the end of the second lesson there was a stick-and-puck session, and he asked his father Tom if he could try. “I mean, ever since I kind of first touched the puck it’s all I’ve ever wanted to do,” says Bedard. “And I mean, I’m 17 now and that hasn’t changed.” He learned to skate. He rollerbladed on their rare flat street in hilly North Vancouver, but with purpose: self-made drills. He rollerbladed in the house. And lord, he practised. To save the windows out front Tom built a shooting box in the backyard, and Connor still shoots there when he’s home. Tom heard there were open ice hours at North Shore Winter Club, which was relatively affordable: he joined, and took Connor. Unlike most places in Canada, there’s not much outdoor winter ice in North Vancouver. “He’d stay there eight hours at a time,” says Tom. “More, sometimes. He’d come off, eat, go back on. His feet would be literally bleeding. I would go on once in a while, but normally I would just let him do his thing.

He played some soccer and liked it, but not like hockey. His dad thinks Connor had a natural baseball swing — Tom was a pretty fair baseball player — and golf swing, too, but Connor was born with the same obsession that every great player has to have. The street was full of young families and Connor would spend days outside being a kid, playing tag and running through sprinklers, but working at hockey most of all. He has never owned a video game console.

Even now Connor gets on the ice on optional morning skates or off days, accompanied occasionally by teammates: he works from different areas, tries different shots, pantomimes celebrations. He sometimes sneaks out of the makeshift school classroom at the Brandt Arena in Regina — a room left over from the COVID emergency era, where the players would gather — and the teacher retrieves him by following the sound of a puck ringing off the bar, shot by a young man wearing flip-flops on the ice.

“I think he’s obsessed, possessed by it,” says John Paddock, the veteran hockey man who is the coach and general manager of the Pats. “He’s so meticulous in his daily routine, game day, other days. It’s just another part of his game.” Paddock does say he has tried to dial Bedard back. “I tell John I don’t believe in them, in days off,” says Bedard. “But he makes us, a little bit.”

But when he was very young, Connor told his parents, “I get along really well with all the kids on the team. But I don’t think their parents like me.” Melanie figured rink politics would become the topic at the dinner table every night if she and Tom both lived it, and they didn’t want that. So Tom would get up as early as 2:30 or 3 in the morning and drive up the mountain way past Whistler, back when the Sea to Sky highway was a truly treacherous road. He’d fell trees for six hours; six, six and a half was the maximum, because it’s not a job where you can afford to lose focus. Tom knows a lot of loggers who were killed on the job, has been at the site of one logging fatality; he once broke his collarbone and neck when hit by a falling tree. His partner drove him out with Tom lying down in the backseat of the truck, bumping down the road. It was all hard work. “Yeah, it was hard, but you know, struggle is not a bad thing, really,” says Tom, a solid man with blue eyes. “It makes you close. It makes things more important, it makes things real. You know, if you have it too easy, usually it doesn’t work out very well. So I don’t mind struggle.” He would drive back and stop at Madi’s gymnastics in full backwoods gear, take her home, and drive Connor wherever he needed to go, while Melanie would make healthy snacks and coordinate everything. For a long time Connor’s drive could be channeled into teams and open ice and backyard shooting, but eventually the Bedards did what every parent of a serious hockey kid has moved towards in the last 10 years or so: trainers, skating coaches, hockey academies. Tom has friends who have their own kids in hockey, and he tells them he wishes he could tell them they don’t have to spend the money to keep up, but that’s how it works now.

A couple days before Bedard had to apply for exceptional status to play in the WHL as a 15-year-old, Melanie was driving him to the gym. “I did not sleep the day before,” she says. “And I said Connor, I don’t think you should do this. And I know it’s what you really want. I know. But I feel like as your mom I’m going to be taking something away from you that’s so special; just the ability to make stupid mistakes that we make, and have regret.” She worried that under the spotlight, in the age of social media, people would root for him to fail, as they did when he was a young phenom. She said she’d still get mad at him if he did something stupid, went to a party he shouldn’t go to, whatever. But she would understand he was a kid, too. “And he said, ‘I don’t care if I go to a party,’” says Melanie. “‘This is something that I want. You can’t. As my mom you feel bad about that, but you don’t feel bad about taking away something that’s so important.’ “So we did decide to go ahead with it.”

Melanie moved to Regina to be Connor’s billet the past two seasons, because nobody knew what it would be like for a kid of his calibre, and as Paddock puts it, “His whole preparations are based around perfection, and she’s the only one that knows it.” (Another Bedard youth coach, Dan Cioffi of Burnaby Six Rinks, recalls Bedard would be the kid ordering chicken caesar salad and a mineral water at age 12, surrounded by kids enjoying burgers and pop.)

There are other moments, though. The mom who passes him her daughter’s phone number. The letter that purported to be from a boy who was paralyzed who asked for a jersey, but whose address pops up in other, vaguely similar, differently-named letters. The yahoos driving by the house at 3:30 a.m. yelling TOE DRAG AND RELEASE. The autograph hounds here and on the road, pros, everywhere they go, forcing the team to change some of its protocols. After one uncomfortable incident that Bedard laughed off in the moment, he came home and told his mom about it. “He said, ‘You know, I’m kind of realizing in some ways I have to be just a robot. Because you know that certain people are just wanting you to say this one thing that they can pass on,’” says Melanie. “And I said to him, I feel kind of upset, but I’m also proud that you’re mature enough to be aware of that. Because it’s so important.” “I think it’s a small sacrifice to make,” says Bedard. “I mean, I’m myself most of the day; I’m at the rink and home most of the time. If I’m walking to the car and someone wants a picture or something, that’s all good. And, you know, for me, I think if I had to change things, which I haven’t much, but just a few things to try to achieve my lifelong goal, I think I’d do that in a heartbeat.”

Coaches say that from a young age, Bedard was the kind of kid who was really attentive to his teammates, and it wasn’t correlated to how good they were. He could have asked for a trade from Regina at the deadline. He didn’t want to leave; he felt a responsibility. “I think I’ve just always been almost sensitive to other people’s feelings,” says Bedard. “You know, I never want to hurt someone’s feelings or make someone feel bad about something. I’m still young, and if there’s something I need to say no to, I try to get my agent or someone to do it for me; I feel bad about that."

"Like it makes me emotional, because I am so grateful. (Tom) learned so much in that moment. And he never has critiqued Connor. They talk about things, because Connor is his biggest critic. And I’m so grateful for their relationship, because what I’ve seen, and a big part of why I wanted to step away, was I would look at these dynamics ... Connor would say some of his teammates would be crying because they didn’t want to go on the car ride with their dad, with their parents. “And I thought, all these people in this machine, you are losing sight of the most important thing: your relation. Because even if they are the next Crosby, they’ll probably be done in their 30s and you’ve damaged that relationship that you could have had the rest of your life. Like, you’re gonna make everything in your world with your child about whether they scored a goal or not? That always was strange to me in that world.” (Melanie Bedard)

[ubeerosophy]

So Many Roads

At the height of COVID, I drove a gentleman from a nearby university to the Indianapolis airport. Many of my most interesting rides have happened this way. The trip takes roughly an hour, so when they are willing to talk, I get to hear from some of the most fascinating people I’ve ever knowingly crossed paths with. It’s like a free course or a private lecture given by the brightest minds on a myriad of topics.

This particular man had been visiting a relative, and was on his way back home, which happen to be on the East Coast. As we began conversing, it came out that he had recently returned from or was about to leave for an overseas speaking engagement. Intrigued, I began asking questions regarding the kind of work he did. The man explained to me that he was an economist, as well as an author. At some point he had relayed to me the title of his most recent book, so when he got out of my car, I was able to google him thoroughly. His resume was far more impressive than he let on. Not only had he penned many books, but he was also a world-leading expert in his field, frequently traveling the globe to give lectures. He had served as a speechwriter to multiple US presidents and was affiliated as a fellow with an Ivy League school. His accomplishments and activities went on and on, but I considered those the highlights. Except for one other…

Not long after he got in my car, the man asked about good places to go for a run in the area. As we discussed my preferred locations, and running as an activity in general, he threw out what I considered to be an impressive amount of mileage that he regularly logged. That might not sound like anything out of the ordinary or some major accomplishment, but did I mention he was in his 80’s?

As I spend a ton of time in my car each day, one of the most common things I see is people running, jogging or walking. They are my heroes. Few other things make me smile like that does, especially when I’m fighting what feels like the worst of humanity on the road. We all know how hard it is to run. It sucks. In the end it may benefit us mentally and physically, but in the meantime it hurts. It’s also time-consuming. Especially if you travel to different locations because you don’t want to stare at the same scenery every time. Psychologically that matters. Just to set aside the time, get yourself prepared and then take that first step towards hundreds more is a major accomplishment. It really is. I’m proud of every one of those people I see doing it every day, and I wish I could tell each of them. I do in my head as I drive by.

I try to run every other day, but just like everyone else, it’s a struggle. When I do, I refuse to listen to music or podcasts because I consider that time alone with myself imperative. There are always going to be distractions and noise, so why not take the time to acknowledge your thoughts when you have an opportunity to do so? Often, for me, those thoughts revolve around how much running hurts. Whether it’s the limitations my aging body is imposing on me or the elements I’m fighting at that moment, it’s hard not to dwell on them when they are staring you in the face. Generally, however, those thoughts prove to be beneficial.

Aside from time, one of my greatest adversaries when I run is the wind. This happens about a quarter of the time, and inevitably will play out the same. About a mile into my run, once the initial adrenaline has worn off, I’ll realize how much harder I’m working when I go in a certain direction. I’ll acknowledge that it’s the wind and then fight myself on seeking a route that spares me the struggle. After convincing myself that the extra difficulty will benefit me in the long run, I embrace it and hunker down. Then, either because I have too much time to think or because I’m looking for something to distract me from the wind’s brutal attack, I find myself revisiting the situation as a metaphor. I say revisiting because it’s the same thought every time.

Running itself is perhaps the most apt metaphor I’ve found for life in general. It sounds cliché, I know, but it’s true. As you take your first steps, you start off slow until you can build speed and momentum. Once you’ve found a comfortable pace, you settle in and maintain it with a specific goal or goals in mind. You’re going to face challenges along the way. Plenty of times I’ve finished what were supposed to be otherwise uneventful and routine runs bloody, bruised, overheated, frozen or before my intended destination. I never foresaw or expected any of those outcomes. As you get near the end of the run, you are infinitely more tired than you were when you started. You then finish either by attaining your objective, or by being forced out prematurely. Pretty emblematic of life if you ask me.

I get almost angry at first when I realize I’m running into the wind. It feels like I’m wasting energy and that my progress is stalling, but when I allow myself to stop and think about it, I become almost grateful. I will come out of it stronger. I’m still getting my mileage in, but my muscles are being given an extra challenge that will result in greater strength going forward. My mind is also being trained. Trained to face adversity with the knowledge that it’s ultimately beneficial and that I can accomplish more than I intend or hope by braving the storm. The same can be said for running uphill or in the rain. Some of the best races of my youth came in such conditions. Were it not for the wind, rain or elevation and the prior experience I had with them, I would not have performed as well as I did, advancing to the next course in the process. And the next course is important to me. The next course is where we get new scenery. The next course is where we learn new things about ourselves and our abilities.

So if you run. Or jog. Or walk. I’m proud of you. I know it isn’t easy. But it’s more than just whatever your initial goal was, and I hope that not only do you achieve that goal, but that you make it to the next course as well.

The UBeerOsopher

And now…a haiku:

All of your steps count

and if you listen to them

their math is profound

“The struggle itself towards the heights is enough to fill a man’s heart.” ~ Alber Camus

[adultalternative]

2022 Best of is finally here. I had like three-quarters of the list figured out pretty early on, but just had a general playlist where I added people before I listened to them to try to get more artists in at once. Turned out that was a bad idea.

Renaissance- First new Beyonce era I could appreciate live due to it instantly being on streaming. It is hard to write a real review for this album, because this is a going out album and I am still quarantining, and I primarily listen to my year end albums in a Free for All shuffle mode, but Beyonce still finds a way to surprise people 9 years after her self-titled album. My favorite songs are Break My Soul, All Up In Your Mind, Virgo’s Groove, and Thique.

Las Ruinas- Rico Nasty swung big and it paid off. Rock, G-Funk, drum and bass (amongst other genres) all make appearances on this album. People seemed to constantly mention that it was a mixtape, and you can tell, but so what? I liked the different sounds and Rico was able to stand on her own in each song without getting lost. Gotsta Get Paid, Intrusive, Into the Dark, Black Punk and Easy are my favorite songs.

Giving the World Away- Hatchie was able to make an ethereal baggy album. Another casualty of still quarantining, as this album was meant to be listened to on your way back from nights out in quirky outdoor downtown cafes in the spring. Shoegaze guitars make an appearance throughout this album, too. My favorite songs are Giving the World Away, Till We Run Out of Air, Don't Leave Me in the Rain, and This Enchanted.

Unsoothing Interior- Vero went from a cute EP to directly commanding first chair at a reality show reunion with this album. While usually, 90’s inspired albums are power pop/sunnier alternative rock and sometimes grunge, Vero dip into shoegaze and noise rock. If you primarily like Kim Gordon’s songs on Sonic Youth, then this album is for you. I like the songs Cupid, Sex, Me & TV Shows, and Beluga the most.

Sometimes, Forever- Embarrassed to say this, but this is the first Soccer Mommy album that totally got me. Her usual guitar only sound is balanced with sonic experiments like the jazzy Unholy Affliction. Also, her lyrics got to me more with songs like Don’t Ask Me and Feel it All the Time.

Nova Twins- Fun, angry and brashy. I like Cleopatra and Antagonist.

Bronco- Austin Butler wasn’t the only Elvis impressionist this year. Orville Peck sanded down his edges to make a more general country album, with unfortunately, less commercial pay off than there could have been. Bronco and Outta Time are still highlights.

Skinty Fia- Fontaines DC continue to excel at dark and brooding alternative rock music. Jackie Down the Line, In ár gCroíthe go deo, and I Love You are my highlights.

Strawberry- Dreamy alternative dance music. Patience etc… and Happy Happy are the highlights, but with such a concise project, just listen to all of it.

Stumpwork- I never would have thought that post punk would be a genre that I would fast track to my best of list, but here we are. Dry Cleaning continues to soundtrack rainy day Sundays with their detached, spoken word vocals with their expressive guitars. I like Anna Calls from the Arctic, Liberty Logs, and Kwendy Kups.

Lady for Sale- In a year with both crossover and alternative country releases, this release with a throwback sound drew my attention the most. While I was initially just drawn to Lola Kirke, the actress from underrated Mistress America, making a countrypolitan album as a Brit, I was soon surprised by how good (and accurate) it was. I like Pink Sky and Falling in Love Again.

Hypnos- Ravyn Lenae continues to be ahead of her peers at such a young age. A good take on psychedelic R&B. My favorite songs are Venom and Inside Out.

SQUEEZE- Very unique mishmash of heavier, noisy, alternative music, and more mellow singer-songwriter music. Now that I’m thinking about it, it sort of reminds me of To Bring You My Love. I enjoy the epicness of The Greatest and the sadness in Tried to Understand. 

SOS- Too late of a release (and not relevant enough in a quarantine lifestyle) for me to appreciate, but it did a good job at putting its foot in the door. I like Blind, Kill Bill, and Gone Girl.

Crash- Though Sucker and Charli could have been interpreted as pop compromise albums by some of the fans, this album definitely steals the title from either with no contest, but not in a bad way. I don’t really know how to describe this album, but it’s more Superlove and Doin’ It than Blame it On Your Love. Good Ones, Yuck, Lightning, and What You Think of Me are my favorite songs, although New Shapes is also good.

Coping Mechanism- Willow came back with an even rockier album. My favorite songs are Split, ur a stranger, and Maybe it’s my Fault.

Blue Rev- Alvvays went from a punchline for random indie bands with corny names to making a late in the year highlight for me out of nowhere. Great shoegaze in catchy pop formats for walks outside. I like Pharmacist, Easy On Your Own, and the Saint Etienne-esque Very Online Guy.

Traumazine- Megan thee Stallion had a rogue’s gallery that would be perfect for a 90’s kids action cartoon this year (Or the anime inspired visualizers for the songs on Youtube). Unfortunately, for her antagonists, you can’t keep Megan down. My favorite songs are Her, Anxiety, Red Wine, and Flip Flop.

American Gurl- Kilo Kish came back with a poppier version of her EPs. Good combination of poppy sheen and melodies but still experimental. My favorite songs are Death Fantasy, Choice Cowboy, and American Gurl. 

Froge.mp3- A drum and bass album that came out of nowhere but very catchy and fun. I like the songs Words and on and on.

Black Girl Magic- Honey Dijon provides us with more house bops after working with Beyonce for Renaissance. My favorite songs are Everybody and Downtown.

Finally, New- While They Hate Change's Finally, New is called experimental hip hop, for me the drum and bass made it more accessible and memorable. Some Days I Hate My Voice is my favorite song.

Us Ephemeral- Very coherent electronic album. A little Toonami and a little Telepopmusik. The title track is my favorite song.

Kaitlin Butts- Short sweet to the point country music with the right amount of sadness. What else can she do and bored if I don’t do a great job at capturing the melancholy of being bored in a rural area without being prepared for the bigger pond yet.

SRSQ-  Theatrical dream pop that makes me feel like I’m flying in the night. Used to Love, Saved for Summer, and Elan Vital are my favorites. It reminds me of Tamaryn but also Sky Ferreira.

Janky Star- I found Grace Ives too late in 2019 to include her in my best of (Or have her compete fairly), but Janky Star had a better chance this year. Grace makes cool music to dance to, good for either an imaginary pop up silent rave or by yourself in a kitchen while doing chores. Burn Bridges and Loose are my favorites.

[curator-on-ao3]

pikeuna prompt - "Just once."

Thank you so, so much for this excellent prompt, @fiadorable! 💕 I hope you like what I came up with. 🤞

For those who prefer to read on AO3:

For those who prefer to read here:

Note: Content warning for discussion about fear of loss of a loved one.

Hope

“Exploring is valuable work.” From his side of the table, Chris seems pensive, the food in front of him mostly untouched. “But it’s also good to be back in familiar space.”

“I understand. I feel pretty darn good just to be back in this familiar room.” Bob motions at their surroundings — the Enterprise captain’s quarters that were once his. “Though I had a roommate, if you recall. Sarah sends her best. She’s been swamped, as you can imagine.”

Sarah April, Chief Medical Officer of the Enterprise when Bob was in command, now mostly tending to war wounded, a three-person dinner briefing cut down to two.

Bob finishes his second glass of wine, his meal half gone, Chris’ cooking as captain somehow even better than his cooking as XO.

“From the reports I’ve read, the war had most of the admiralty pretty worried.” Chris pours and red wine flows into Bob’s glass. “Did you ever lose hope?”

Familiar and unfamiliar, wine and sober truth, they all swirl together and Bob lowers his glass, his hand shaking only a little. “Just once. Sarah was on a medical frigate headed toward a battle site to render aid. I was at headquarters. A report came in that the Klingons had attacked the frigate and destroyed it. No survivors. Took two days for the report to be corrected to the loss of another frigate. Another three days for Sarah to be able to contact me. But in those two days when I thought my wife was dead, yeah, I lost hope. We think war is about governments and firepower, but it’s not. War is about people. Your people survive, you win the war. Your people don’t make it, and you lose the war. So for two days, I lost that war.”

On the other side of the table, Chris grips his own, mostly drained wine glass.

Regret pierces Bob’s chest. He shouldn’t have laid that story on Chris. Chris drinking and barely eating is usually a sign that Chris has something on his mind and here Bob went and got serious.

“What about you?” Bob intends this in a general sense, an inquiry into Chris’ sensibilities upon returning home after such a long mission in deep space.

But it sounds like a question about losing hope.

“Also just once. Getting the war reports was rough, don’t get me wrong. But the most scared I was out there was when some aliens kidnapped Number One and told us that she would be sacrificed to appease their ocean god. There had been a series of destructive tsunamis, and the aliens were desperate.” A soft exhale escapes from Chris. “We couldn’t get her out, but she ended up saving herself by proving to the aliens that their world’s tectonic plates could be monitored to predict tsunamis so inhabitants could evacuate the danger zones. She reported in more than twelve hours after the sacrifice was supposed to take place.”

A mission log had noted the incident, though not Chris’ thoughts about it. Bob’s stomach twists with irritation, though. To compare the potential loss of a first officer to the potential loss of his wife is insulting, and it’s not like Chris to miss the point so thoroughly.

But Chris’ gaze meets Bob’s and Bob’s stomach relaxes, becomes warm and full, because even though Sarah is the doctor in the family, it doesn’t take a medical degree to correctly diagnose a lovesick expression.

So Bob raises his wine glass for a toast. “To the people who give us hope — Sarah, Una — and to our luck in having them in our lives.”

Chris’ glass clinks against Bob’s, wine tips in inverse duplicate, and Chris finally picks up a fork and tucks into his dinner.

———

Send me an ask with character(s) and a prompt and I’ll do my best to write you a little something to give you warm fuzzies in your belly. ❤️

✨ All prompted Pikeuna ficlets are also available on AO3 as Constellations of Possibility. ✨

[thearchivistsjournal]

Day 204,

Morning thought: Will that healing spring of Maiko’s help the body of my Catacombs self?

*******

I’m back at the house but Maiko isn’t.  On the kitchen table she left her bracelet and a note on her wax tablet saying she needed time alone.

Fair enough.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have, but I checked her hiding spot underneath the couch cushions and found her pouch, so I’m confident she intends to come back sooner or later.

That’s the end of the day most presently on my mind, but what of the events preceding it?

Mostly, I was talking with Pat.  Around lunchtime I told Cass I was going to talk to him about some “personal life advice stuff, and maybe some old history stuff,” and that she was free to lock up early to go join her family, otherwise she’s in charge until I got back.  I think the idea of being in charge of anything rather appeals to her.  Or maybe it’s just that she likes being trusted with responsibility.

It took some asking around, but I eventually found Pat down on the beach once again.  As I got close he turned around to greet me and invited me to join him on his walk.  I was happy to do so, apologizing as I did so about not visiting as much as I’d intended.  He said not to worry about it.

It didn't take long for him to ask me how I was holding up since the last time we talked.

Reflexively, I said I was doing fine.  Then I caught myself.  Paused.  Corrected myself by saying that wasn’t completely true.  Struggled to find words now that I was finally there.  Asked if we could just walk for a while.

And we did.

Slowly, Pat started to fill in the silence, commenting on the weather, the birds, a large shell on the sand.  He drew me into light and easy conversation.

As we both stopped to catch our breath, taking seats on a log of driftwood he observed that I wasn’t faring much better than he was.

I said it was a lingering effect of the Children’s Fever.  Or perhaps lingering damage.  That I’ve been weak and easily out of breath since then, and while it’s gotten a little better these past three weeks it’s been slow enough that I worry if I’ll ever get back to full strength.  Giving voice to that concern provided a segue into one of the things I’d wanted to talk to him about, namely the healing spring.  I told him that I’d heard and read about it (technically true on the latter, but barely) and had an idea of how to find it, but I thought I’d ask if he knew anything of it or thought it might help me before I take a long and uncertain trip to get to it.

As it turns out, he was familiar with it, and had even been there once or twice himself.  He wasn’t sick himself while visiting but he did generally feel better for a while afterward.  He said that while there weren’t enough people in the Village getting seriously sick or injured enough to warrant trying to take a trip to it more than once every couple decades, he knew of a handful of people that claimed it helped them more than time, rest, or medicine could do.  It might not be a miracle cure that instantly gets me back to where I was before and it might not last forever, but it should do something for me.

Good enough for me to try it.  Now I just needed a boat, preferably one big enough to accommodate more than one person and carry supplies for an extended trip.

Hearing me mutter that last part to myself (the old man has young ears, I swear) he gave me the names of several people to talk to about borrowing a boat.  He seemed certain that the villagers would be willing to help one of their own, especially with my health on the line.

One of their own?

He smiled.  Said that I live here, don’t I?  Fill a role.  Eat the same food.  Walk the same streets.  What else would I be?

An outsider?

He laughed like I’d just delivered a punchline and then said I can be both at once.

Seems like a paradox to me, but I’ve learned to be comfortable with those.

Trying to get back on productive practical topics again, I brought up that I’d read about Iole, was given to understand that the island she wound up on was near the one with the spring, and that I was considering looking for her while I was out there.  Check in and see if she’s still alive.  Seems like a good thing for the Archivist to do.  And sure, I could check on her via floating island since she’s on the eastern stop, but  that’d be nine days in transit to her and then another twelve or thirteen waiting for the floating island to come back around to take me to the Village.  Seems better to combine the trips if I can.

I was caught off guard by how quickly Pat’s mood darkened when I mentioned Iole.  He agreed that checking on her was the decent thing to do if I could locate her.  But then he added a warning that I shouldn’t bring her up while I’m explaining what I need a boat for.

I asked why not.  Why anyone would have a problem with me seeing her.  Did I miss something?  Was she in fact exiled or outcast?

Pat shook his head.  Said it was nothing like that, but word might reach Theo, and that was the kind of digging for answers that the other oldest man had warned me against.  Theo had already warned me once, and might actually do something if I ignored him.  Likely nothing direct or physically harmful, but he’ll find a way to make digging hard for me.  Make sure there are no spare boats.  Encourage people to visit the library to keep me too busy to leave.  Give the mediators the idea to put together a large event that needs recorded at an inopportune time for me.  That sort of thing.

I recalled the missing capy that almost prevented the floating island expedition and kept Vernon from joining us.  Probably best I don’t mention the recent trips to the cathedral to anyone outside our group then.  Maybe encourage them to do the same next time I see them.

I asked what he knew about Iole.

He said nothing I wouldn’t likely find out on my own by meeting her.

The silence returned for a few minutes.

Patting his knees and putting on a brighter face, Pat worked his way up onto his feet and asked if I cared to keep going or turn around and head back to the Village.

I said it’d be a shame to waste the nice day.

<==Previous          Next==>

[bluexiao]

I've just seen that you're asking for Thoma requests so I thought to ask (if you're comfortable with it) if you'd do some headcannons if he was self aware like Monika from Ddlc if you're not feel free to ignore this :)

#self aware!thoma

WARNING. may have slight spoilers on his story (about his parents)

NOTES. I will be basing this off on how I built thoma lmao i’m sorry this is slightly self-indulged. I’m laughing so hard while writing this, enjoy everyone

THOMA

Appreciates you especially if you tried so hard to pull for him. He really did his best in order to come home but he’s such a generous person to others and let them come home to you first before himself--such a gentleman, huh?

Oh! You have a Staff of Homa or Deathmatch? Are you going to-

Black Tassel… alright, well at least it gives him a lot of HP! It doesn’t matter that it once was from Zhongli or maybe Hu Tao or you specifically built it for him. He doesn’t really mind because you puting him in your team is just enough for him to be happy.

If you level him up to 80 or 90, he’d be extremely grateful, but to be honest? Whatever level you have him on, he will still do his best whenever you put him on your team and remain loyal to you til the end. The additional power and strength are just bonus points to him.

Helping you is his pleasure, he takes absolute delight in having to assist you and your team in any way he can.

When you don’t place him on your team, he’s a little bit sad but he doesn’t brood over such negativities and is just here to help… that’s it, basically.

Take him to Mondstadt every once in a while! He gets homesick as well, of course, so he will appreciate you if you take him there. You’ll probably see him with the dogs or cats around the square near the fountain, or maybe greeting the vendors and trying to meet the others whom he hadn’t seen for a long time. Where’s his mother anyway? He should try to find her.

When you or your team is in danger he would probably switch to himself on his own accord. You’d sometimes think this is a glitch but he does that most of the times, especially since he was beginning to have feelings for you.

You probably will see your foods increase when you look so closely, or even your fishes that comes from Inazuma. The culprit? Of course, it’s him. There’s no one else who can cook a lot and also catch fish for you like that.

Your teapot house oh Archons. You were just muttering how you like things this way and that in your teapot but you just couldn’t find the time and the next time you log in, he already did it for you.

Your smile makes his day so there are probably times he crits better when he feels energized by your positivity! You’ll find yourself praising him and this continues on until the end of the fight.

When you realize it had been him all long and that he became self aware, he won’t try to hide it from you and would just go along the flow, basically.

I could imagine actually in the Dream of Bloom event, you will find a couple of extra flowers on your inventory, probably one each day--he did that too.

TAGLIST (send an ask to be added)

@softlybeloved @icecappa @sushiyay @scaraslover @beastielevi @cursedraiden @thesatanofpizza @izayanna @stellumi @coco-goat-milk @nonniechan @m3gitsune @thispenguinrocks @chuubear @kiyoobi @catisnerd @ventislatte @weakestpoint @pinkfei @aweebstuff @zhongchi14 @windwheel-aster @irethepotato @squiddaloo @scaramunch @cruxdou @favonius-captain @aqualesha @evilestjessie @astreankitsune @crapimahuman

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking for a Place to Happen

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: We’re starting Sam’s installment but this weekend I’ll probably only be catching up on my headcanons and drabbles because I’ve been a lazy bitch and I’m sorry to those who have been waiting.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 1: I've got a job, I explore

💀💀💀

The sleepy town of Birch was awake. 

In those last weeks, the arrival of outsiders had roused the attention of many once passive residents of the timeless territory. Those brick buildings unchanged by the tick of the clock inlaid into the old tower above the library that chimed every hour on the hour. They still stood with only chips in the mortar but the air tasted different. The frost was more bitter and the sky more grim. An omen of something no one could predict.

It was the perfect setting for a screenplay. The isolated town with its unsavoury secrets and the visitors who threatened to bring them to the surface. It was inspiring to you, to imagine what was hidden behind the stern wrinkled faces of the town elders and under the jackets of those men who wore the cut of the local club. The bikers ruled the town covertly but everyone knew that Bucky Barnes’ palm was lined with the map of Birch.

As a bystander, an unnoticed observer, just another ant in the hill, you watched from the side and amused yourself with the drama of others. It was like a soap opera or another HBO hype machine. Those things you aspired to when you could be free of this ho-hum town.

The snows added to the natural gloom of the place. The deep heaps smothered the noise and harkened back to those days of colonial settlement. Forgotten, desolate, fearful. 

You ventured down in your heavy boots that stretched to your knees and pushed your chin down into your scarf. As a child, you ran and jumped in those piles, now you were out of breath just trying to walk past them.

You stopped in the bakery that doubled as the only café, a place where the owner, Babs, tried to to intimidate the last caffeinated trends. She was always a few seasons behind but you didn’t mind so much. 

You ordered the salted caramel mocha and waited patiently as the quiet woman fought with the steaming machines. She was older than you but you’d work with her for one summer during high school, only five years ago. She had the eyes of a child still, but there was something worn in her. As if she’d been exposed to far too much in her three or so decades in that place. She was a harbinger of what you didn’t want to become.

You thanked her for your drink and set out once more into the billowing winds. Birch winters were never kind but this one was crueler than most. Your teeth chattered as you blew the steam away from the lid and hugged it with your mittened hands.

You stopped short as you heard the familiar ding of the diner door across the street. You recognised the mechanic who kept to herself and once growled at you in the grocery store. She stormed across the street, followed closely and quickly by a black-haired man you’d only seen once before. He was one of those outsiders who came to deal with the club men.

You sped up as you sensed chaos brewing and pulled out your phone as you balanced your paper cup in your other hand. You flicked your camera on just as you got to the front of the shop and the man grabbed the mechanic. You let out an ‘oop’ as she turned on him and you aimed the lens at the couple as they fell into the snow, the man’s shoes giving little traction to his steps. 

You moved closer, stunned by the scene, and kept your cell phone rolling as you found a better angle around the snowy walks. As she choked him on the ground he elbowed her and she coughed as she rolled away. She snarled as he clamoured to his feet, slipping and sliding as he marched away.

You killed the recording and watched the man cross the street again, nearly wiping out as he did and when you looked back to the mechanic, she was gone behind the clattering door. You chuckled to yourself and tucked away your cell. It was prime footage for TikTok; with a bit of editing, it would be comedy gold.

💀

You stomped up the steps of your grandmother’s house, this time through the front door as you heard her chair rocking in the front room. You usually took the stairs in the back as you paid her to live on the upper floor of the duplex. You checked in with her daily, she didn’t get out much more than the occasional trip to the grocery store when you couldn’t or you dragged her out to join you for a tea at Babs’.

“You’re late,” she grumbled as you set your cup down and unzipped your coat.

“For what?” you scoffed.

“It’s after noon and you don’t even come down to say hello? A ‘good morning, nan’,” she harrumphed.

You chuckled and hung your coat before shoving your boots over on the mat. You grabbed your mocha and leaned on the doorway as you watched her crocheting in her chair, reruns of some court show playing from the boxy television.

“I was working,” you said, “sent in some stuff for review. Hopefully not much work to be done.”

“I don’t know how you make money on that interweb,” she bemoaned, “I don’t trust it.”

“Maybe you’d trust it more if you used the Netflix subscription I got you,” you crossed your arms, “then you wouldn’t have to watch trash daytime TV.”

She shrugged and muttered under her breath. She could be crotchety but you liked her sense of humour. Your aunts and uncles never came around because they just took it as spite. You were the only one who knew how to handle the jaded old lady.

“Maybe you coulda looked out the window,” you snickered, “quite a show going on in town.”

“Hmm, what’s that?” she stilled her needles and reached for her tea stained cup.

“Just a fight. You wouldn’t believe it, that lady mechanic beat the shit--”

“Language,” she huffed.

“Anyway, she had this guy in a chokehold. It was awesome.”

“What guy?” she squinted at you over her glasses.

“I dunno. Some out of towner. Remember I told you about that burly dude hanging around the library?”

“There’s more?” she sucked on her teeth, “those bikers have never been good news and now they’re bringing in more.”

“Yeah, well, what’re you gonna do?” you sniffed as you took out your phone and rewatched the scuffle with the volume down. You shook your head and opened up your TikTok. 

“I don’t understand why you’re always on your dang phone,” your grandmother pestered.

“I’m not always on my phone,” you smiled at her smugly, “there are those time when I’m listening to you prattle on or you know, making you tea, oh, and cooking you dinner. What was it I did last week? Oh that’s right, I got Pippin out of the crawlspace.”

“I’m too old to be chasin’ that cat all around,” she huffed, “where is he anyway?”

“He’s your cat, I don’t know? Last time I saw him, I sent him back out the window for shredding my charger.”

“He knows you need to give it a rest,” she laughed to herself, “got your nose to that screen too much.”

“And what do you do, old lady? Crocheting doilies to put where exactly?”

She gave you that dry smile, the one that said watch it but carried a hint of humour still. You hit post and put your phone away as you waved off her irritation.

“Well, you know what, I sit all day at my computer, doing who knows what and you know what it got me?” you taunted, “a large mocha!” you sipped as you sat on the sofa and grabbed the remote, “and it’s paying my rent and putting bullet points on my resume.”

“Mhmm,” she scowled, “just remember, real life ain’t online. Those videos you’re always laughing at like hyena, that’s not reality. You forget it and it’ll come back and bit you. ‘Specially with those bikers.”

“Oh, nan, you know too well, don’t you? Didn’t you have a fling with one back in your hippie phase?”

“Two, actually,” she raised her brows, “I was young and stupid. Not like you, but still.”

“I love you too,” you chirped and sipped from your cup, flicking the station to Jerry Springer, “that’s more like it.”

💀

Your usual TikToks were sarcastic and dull complaints about your small town life. The response was less than pleasing but it gave you an outlet to vent. You liked to goof around and document the very specific type of weirdos that resided in Birch. But the video of the fight in the snow blew up your phone and made it difficult to ignore the buzzing as you went back up to your room to eke out the last of your captions for the ad agency.

When at last you could call your day hard-earned, you logged off and sent in your hours to the agency. Social media promotion was easy enough but the working gigs for a thousand different companies was tedious. You hoped you could build your portfolio enough to manage a single corporate page as you continued to chip away at your creative outlets.

You picked up your phone as you waited for Netflix to load on your tiny smart tv and flopped onto your bed, not two feet from your desk. You hit the icon in the upper panel of your phone and scrolled through the notifications, pausing to turn on another episode of the cable sitcom from ten years before. You snorted as you read each comment but the number under the video made your eyes round. The thing was bound to go viral.

As usual, you went down to help with supper. Pippin, the orange tabby, returned to cry at his dish and you fed him too. Your nan peered through her glasses at a crossword as she tasted the tangy pasta sauce. 

“More basil,” she snipped.

“Well, I asked if you wanted to help,” you muttered, “I think it’s good.”

“Hmmp, I need milk,” she jutted her chin out, “for my after-dinner tea.”

“You couldn’t say something like three hours ago?” you blinked.

“I could have but I didn’t,” she snickered. You rolled your eyes and she took another forkful of penne and filled in another line on her puzzle, “ah, no hurry, girlie, you know I’m patient.”

“Patient? You?” you chuckled as you took your plate and shoved it in the microwave to keep it warm. The ancient thing had a dial and the door stuck, “I’ll just go get it over with.”

“Don’t forget your mitts,” she called after you as you tramped into the front room, “it’s cold.”

You pulled on your knitted cap and matching mitts. You zipped up your parka and shoved your feet into the deep boots. You grabbed your wallet and buried it in the spacious pocket. You bounced out the front door and down the steps as the sky sent down another coat of powder for the night.

You went up White Forge Street and through the short path behind the diner that led to the main road. You glanced over at The Asp, the beacon of the dull town, and turned towards the grocer. Like anywhere in Birch, the store was outdated and stuffy. It felt like stepping into another time with the paper bags and chunky tills.

You went down the center aisle and stopped at the fridge to search through the frosted glass. Your nan only drank whole milk and the last time you carelessly grabbed skim, she whined that even Pippin wouldn’t drink it. She was particular but that was just her nature. You couldn’t say you were any less fussy in some instances.

You grabbed a jug and the door slapped closed against the worn rubber seal. You headed up the candy aisle and brushed your woolly thumb over your chin as you considered gummy bears or Reeses’ Pieces.

“Hard choice?” The deep voice jolted you.

You snatched the box of chocolate and looked over at the man in leather, his chin tucked down behind the collar as snow dusted his shoulders.

“Sure,” you said as you brushed past him.

The cut of the leather told you he was better not entertained. While you thought the men amusing, you weren’t stupid enough to engage with them. You rarely listened to your grandmother but she was wise in her own way. 

You knew a girl in highschool, she was fucking around with one of the club men in her junior year, she ended up with a baby and no support. You didn’t think he was into you that way but he could hardly have innocent intentions.

“How’s the old lady?” Clayton asked as he rung in your order at the end of the belt, you moved along with the groceries and pulled out your wallet.

“The usual, you know? She’s tryna quit again. Don’t know how long it’ll last.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll keep a carton aside for her,” he kidded as you felt your phone vibing in your back pocket.

“Don’t encourage her,” you swiped your card and punched in your pin, “although I don’t know what’s worse; the smoke or her sucking on those mints all the time.”

“Oh, it’s not the bitchin’?” he laughed.

“That, too,” you scooped up the paper bag and put your wallet away, “have a good one.”

As you came to the end of the first counter, you were nearly cut off by the club member as he swept around from till two. His own purchase of a car magazine and jerky was tucked under his arm.

“Ah, sorry,” he smiled, a sparkling smile, almost charming.

“No worries,” you continued on and he followed close behind.

“Those mitts look real warm. ‘Specially in this weather,” he said as you pushed open the door.

“Uh huh,” you kept on as your boots crunched out into the snow.

“You know where I can get a pair. Leather isn’t exactly thermal, you know?”

“These? My nan made ‘em. I’m sure Clayton got some hung up back there,” you looked across the street as you stepped up onto the ledge of snow between the sidewalk and the road.

“Am I bothering you?” he asked.

You looked at him dumbly and almost laughed in his face. You glanced back across the street then down towards The Asp.

“Sorta,” you answered.

“Make you a deal. Leave ya alone for your name.”

You eyed him. He was older than you like many of the Commandos. At least a decade, likely more than that. You chewed on your hesitation and cradled the bag more firmly against your side. His eyes strayed as he tried to see through the thick layer of your coat.

“Nah, I’m not s’posed to talk to strangers,” you said and hopped off onto the road.

You heard him behind you as he struggled to follow and as you came up to the other side, he came parallel with you and kept stride with you easily.

“I know you’re young but you’re not a kid,” he intoned, “what’s the harm in a name?”

“It’s a small town,” you stopped short of the end of White Forge, “I think I know enough about you to avoid you.”

“Oh ho, is that it? Well, I’m Sam, I’m not a stranger now, am I?”

“Not interested, Sam. Sure there’s women your own age over at the bar,” you nodded behind him.

“You wanna come see? Maybe have a drink?” he gave a crooked grin.

“You don’t give up, do you?” you shook your head, put off by his forwardness.

“Well?”

“Not tonight, Sam,” you turned around and headed down White Forge.

“Then what night?” he asked but you didn’t answer and he didn’t follow.

You turned down onto your street and refused to look back in case. It would be best not to mention the run-in to your nan, she was paranoid enough as it was. Besides, you’d forget about it by the end of next week.

[nemir]

“obviously not.”

✞——————❆——————✞

» pairing; xyx x mc

» word count: 2,761 words

» content; heavy angst, relationship problems, cold shoulder, selfish MC.

» an; yall reeeeally wanted a part 2 to THIS. y’sure about that? 🤭

You weren’t quite sure just how long it had been since you last spoke with xyx. The days all seemed to meld together, between this and work. You could hardly tell if you were coming or going half the time, and most nights you had come home and just sank immediately into bed. In a way, it was a bit of a blessing. At least you weren’t thinking too much about what had happened; you didn’t really have time or the brain capacity.

But there was still that gnawing feeling in the back of your mind. Even when you did manage to get online, you didn’t see his messages in chat. You assumed they were probably just buried by other conversations, and you could only scroll back so far before everything would start to lag. Still, it was enough for you to be concerned, which you finally brought up to Toast, about a week and a half later. NakedToaster: i mean i’ve talked to him a few times but NakedToaster: not much besides typical hey how are ya, when are you getting in-game. that kinda stuff. MC: oh... I see. but his messages are showing up for you??? NakedToaster: he hasnt said much in general in the past little while so i couldnt rly tell you. we have our own channel lol but i can see them there. NakedToaster: maybe the server’s just acting up or something? wouldnt be the first time tbh MC: i guess so. ugh. i just hope he’s doing alright NakedToaster: well NakedToaster: he’s been having a pretty tough time with his latest client NakedToaster: the case has been bad so far. NakedToaster: not that you needed me to tell you that lmao MC: oh.. uh, y-yeah haha, that case. i know he was stressed about it from the beginning. Your hands were shaking over the keyboard. You didn’t even know about this new client. He never mentioned anything of it to you. His voice rang through your head, ‘oh right, because you never fucking asked’. MC: well, thanks toasty. im glad to know he’s at least... semi-active. i guess ive just missed being online at the same time. im sure i’ll catch him soon. NakedToaster: np ✞——————❆——————✞ He wasn’t a fan of lying, but he would do it to protect one of his best friends. Toast absolutely knew what was going on. He knew the day it happened. He was in the middle of a dungeon when xyx had messaged him. xyx: have you ever noticed how much [MC] talks about themselves? NakedToaster: LMAOOOO xyx: ... Oh. They knew xyx was being genuine, and quickly followed up with questions. What do you mean, how long has this been going on, what’s happening? Of course, xyx being xyx, it was hard to get every detail but he wasn’t going to push it. It was clear he was upset, and that’s all that mattered to Toast. So Toast did some digging of their own. He had casually brought it up to Quest one night, making sure not to mention xyx at all. NakedToaster: idk, someone mentioned it to me so i thought i’d ask. i honestly dont pay enough attention to tell myself Quest: Hmm.. Quest: A quick look through the logs doesn’t give much, honestly. But truth to tell.. We all kind of talk about ourselves a lot, don’t you think? Quest: Well, ha ha, some of us. :^) NakedToaster: i mean u have ur reasons lol Quest: Right. Quest: If anyone talks about themselves too much, it’s nightowl. LOL NakedToaster: LOLLLL Quest: Honestly, it’s probably just that [MC] feels comfortable enough around us to vent, y’know? I can’t blame ‘em for that. But if there are anymore issues, make sure to let me know! It wasn’t the response he was really looking for, but he still brought it up to xyx in a call - something that was once a rarity and was now becoming an almost nightly occurrence. “I know I should’ve asked you first, but I figured if anybody would’ve noticed anything, it would’ve been Quest.” “Nah, you’re fine mate. I, uh.. appreciate it. I wouldn’t have been able to ask him myself. Prob’ly wouldn’t have.” xyx chuckled a bit nervously, scratching idly at his arm. “What, uh, what did he say? Outta curiosity.” Toast frowned a bit and leaned back in their chair, arms crossing. “That he hadn’t noticed anything. He even went back through the logs a bit. Just kinda chalked it up to them feeling like this is a safe space to vent, and that nightowl does it all the fucking time - which he isn’t really wrong about, I guess.” Xyx’s arms fell to the desk with a grumble, “It’s not the fucking same! Nobody’s hung out with them as much as I have, not even close. It’s a near constant! Toasty, they don’t even know the name of my client.” “Wait, what? But they said you talked to them about the case-” “They never fucking asked.” Of course, there was client confidentiality in place, so it’s not as if xyx could go into crazy details, but not even to ask the name, or a vague idea of what was going on. Nothing. But even then! Who else was he supposed to vent this shit to? “There was a day where I just put the camera on Cat and fucked off. They didn’t even realize.” Toast didn’t know what to say or how to react to that. He was just staring at xyx, disgust clear on his face. Xyx shrugged and slumped back into his chair. “I blocked them. I just couldn’t handle it.” “You- wait, what? Oh my god, that makes so much sense. They were wondering why they weren’t able to see your messages in chat.” ✞——————❆——————✞ Another week and a half went by. You were really starting to get nervous now. There were times, before, where he’d disappear and go offline for a day or two but he always came back. You knew he needed days and some time to himself, that wasn’t an issue. But this... this was different. You still weren’t able to see any of his messages in chat, and he was constantly offline. You even called in sick to work and stayed online all day, just in the hopes of catching him. Nothing. But you didn’t want to reach out. You were afraid to, in a way, because you don’t want to pressure him or make things worse. It hurts to just... leave it, but you did. For a time, until you finally broke and sent him a quick message in the private channel you two are in. MC: heyy. i hope you’re doing okay. i miss you.. i’ve been thinking a lot about what happened and i feel fucking awful. You’re right, i’ve been incredibly selfish and.. i really hope that you can forgive me. i want to make this right, but i’m not going to make any moves until you’re ready. i’ll be here when you are. xo His response came a week later. Finally. It was a single sentence, “i read your message.” He absolutely did. Read it out loud to Toast, too. Toast, after hearing everything, had only become increasingly bitter toward you - something you picked up on as time went on. Xyx is one of his best friends, and you really hurt him. It wasn’t something they were going to so easily forgive. So when xyx read your message, Toast rolled his eyes so hard, they gave themselves a headache. It took xyx a while to type out a full response. He’s hurting. Between work stress, health stress, Cat stress, and now this? It had clearly been eating at him for a while. He doesn’t know if he can handle this, on top of everything else. When the two of you went into this relationship, it was a beautiful thing. It had a very promising start! But.. as time went on, xyx started noticing and picking up on things. Things that started to irk him. At first, he tried to play it off; if anybody understood needing to vent and not really having a safe outlet to do so, it was him. He knew that you just wanted him to know what was going on in your life - you were long distance, after all. And sometimes he would vent as well, though it was becoming a rare occurrence. He didn’t like to talk about his feelings that much, which was no secret. But you had managed to pull things out of him, and he did appreciate it, in a way. It made him realize that, yes, he can be vulnerable around people because he is cared about, and people want to make sure he’s okay. It made him realize that he was capable of feeling love, and giving love in return. He’ll forever be thankful for that, but... This had been going on for so long, and you never even fucking noticed. You never took the time. Even when he tried to bring it up, it was just met with you either talking over him, or trying to relate to everything he was saying then going into a tangent of your own. “Oh well, have you tried this? It worked for me!”, or “Yeah, that happened to me before! Here’s the entire story!”, and the ever classic “I TOTALLY understand what you’re going through!” But instead of letting him talk and finish what he was saying, you took over the entire conversation. You went on your own diatribe about how you were feeling, how you handled whichever situation (or didn’t), about your experiences. And by the time you were done talking, you didn’t even have the decency to apologize for hijacking the conversation, or worse still, ask him to continue with his story. You just jumped to a completely different topic, and xyx was left holding onto those feelings, never to be brought up again. MC: can... can we call? xyx: no. im not rly feeling up to it MC: i understand, and that’s okay! (you know this worked before!) i just feel like something like this would be easier if we could just... talk. xyx: (it took him a few minutes to respond. he kept backspacing ‘i’m sorry, but no’) i really dont want to. xyx: this already sucks. i dont really want to make it any worse for myself. You were waiting for the “or you”, but it never came. But he was typing! That’s a good sign. MC: okay, that’s fine!! i’ll just wait until you’re finished typing! You were trying to sound hopeful, and you hoped it was coming across. You still would have preferred to have this talk over voice but this was better than nothing. At least he was talking to you. xyx: its my turn to talk now. there’s a part of me that wants to give you the benefit of the doubt - i guess that’s second nature to me. but my head just keeps screaming not to, that there’s no way i could, or should. i need you to know that you’ve hurt me. and yeah, im sure it wasn’t your intention, but impact over intention. you still did it, and continued to do it. it was as if... honestly it was as if you didn’t even realize it but then i say to myself, well no, how could they not? it was fairly obvious, at least to me it was. and, y’know, maybe i could have tried to speak up more but there was no point. i feel like, if i had brought it up, you’d find some way to make it about yourself and that was quite honestly the last thing i wanted. this will hurt to hear probably, but not out of any sort of sympathy or compassion to you, but because i was sick and tired of hearing it. every single day, there was something new. something that happened that you had to tell me about. we didn’t even be on the subject of it, but you’d somehow find a way to make each conversation about you. i know i don’t like talking about my feelings or my problems that much. i can do without it. but that doesn’t give you free reign to just... make everything about you. when you do that, it makes me feel like you don’t care. about me, or how i’m feeling, or what’s going on in my life. hell, you hardly ask about Cat anymore! the one thing i’d be more than willing to talk about, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to stop being the centre of the universe for five fucking minutes to ask how my pet was doing. how am i meant to take all that? i can almost guarantee that if the roles were reversed, you would’ve thrown a fit over it. but i didn’t. and the only reason why i didn’t is because i care about you and, deep down, i wanted to make sure that you were okay, because honestly? for a while there... you were the one constant in my life. you didn’t leave, you treated me like a human being. you were nice, understanding.. you even listened. but you... you don’t anymore. and you haven’t for a long time. and, look, i really don’t want to hear anything about how i didn’t try either, or some other bullshit narrative, because i honest to god did. but half the time, i couldn’t get a word in edgewise, or what i did say was brushed aside. do you have any idea how that feels? the one person who cared about me most, who even went so far as to say they loved me - and who i loved, just dismissing everything i try to say. that fucking hurt. i felt better when i got into my accident. i keep wanting to apologize for some stupid reason. like i’m the one who fucked up here somehow. i must’ve just gotten used to not caring about myself or how i felt that i just.. kept letting it happen, thinking it would get better.. always fucking thinking everything will get better, but it never does, does it? ive been shown that time and time again. makes me feel like a prat for getting my hopes up, but that’s what i get, i guess. why did i let myself think this time would be any different? ultimately, this is the end. i can’t keep going through with this. i’ve learned a lot of valuable things from you that, i’m sure in time, maybe, i’ll get better about. and i’m staring with this. i’m not.. i can’t keep putting myself in these situations and staying there. this.. this isn’t serving me anymore. that’s something you used to tell me all the time, right? “if it doesn’t serve you, get rid of it” so, that’s what i’m doing. i hope in the future you’re able to find someone who will want nothing more than to hear you talk all day. i dunno. maybe you should just get a pet instead. you don’t have to worry about leaving the server or anything, i wouldn’t ask you to do that. but, i won’t be either. but i will be blocking you. again. i suggest you do the same. i mean, in the end it’s your choice, but.. yeah.  uh... have a good one. You saw it was a huge chunk of text. Paragraphs worth. Your response was a simple, “oh! that’s a lot, heh, give me a minute to read through it!”  You wish you hadn’t. You had an awful, gut-wrenching feeling when you saw the wall of text pop up that it wasn’t going to be good. You were cursing yourself, unable to tear your eyes from the screen even as the tears welled, and your chest felt like it was going to implode with how tight it was feeling, the way your entire body was trembling. You should have just stuck to your guns. It felt like you had the wind knocked out of you completely by the time you finished. All manner of liquid and nastiness was pouring from your face, but you couldn’t stop. You dropped your hands to the keyboard, hoping and praying that you still had time to send a message. MC: xyx, no wait, please!! i want to talk to you about this, please. BloomBot: Oops! Your message could not be sent.

[bonny-kookoo]

Rabbit Boy | JJK x Reader | 🔞

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Wordcount: 10.3k (Long)

Genre: Romance, Friends/strangers to lovers, Smut, BDSM because I'm making that a genre now

Tags/Warnings: BDSM themes (please I'm begging you stop reading my shit if it makes you uncumfortable), mentions of restrainment, light shibari, edging, orgasm denial (very mild), Subspace, Domspace because yes thats a thing, Dom/sub dynamics, Biting, Oral (m and f receiving), riding, and not the horseback kind if you know what I mean, protected sex yes, we love an organized household, there's just so much sweet filth istg

Summary: Jungkook is wild, untamed, and doesn't really commit to anyone for long. But maybe, you're his only exception in this world. Maybe, you're really that perfect partner he's been looking for.

Jungkook likes to think of himself as an artist.

Sure, if people knew exactly what the young man does in his freetime (or as a side job, don't judge, we all want to make money out of our hobbies stop lying to yourself), they would surely look at him differently.

But he's an artist, nonetheless.

Technically, Jungkook also doesn't need to do what he does simply for the money. No, his main job pays very well- considering that he's one of the top elite in his genre of games. He doesn't just merely play and win a game; Jungkook, just like most things he touches, claims complete ownership of the match he's fighting. It's a well known fact that he's someone who likes things for himself. He loves control, craves to lead, and hates to be belittled.

Oh and yeah- financially, investing in an indie-game three years back had also done his bank account some good.

Now, at an age where he can be fully considered a man, and not a boy anymore, he craves control in different aspects of life- and love.

Jungkook has a problem however.

He's wild.

Not in the way one might think he is (although several people could argue that yes, that's also the case in bed..) but generally. He loves to control- but he hates to be tied down.

And a mindset like that doesn't work well with relationships.

He's had them before, don't get him wrong. He's had numerous in the past, but they all either broke apart because he would hold that particular desire back, making him antsy and moody, or he would welcome his partners into his world, and become uncomfortable with the way things would progress.

No, he doesn't want to experiment. He knows exactly what he wants, and if that means he's 'close-minded' and a bad person, then so be it for him.

He never liked the constant company in his apartment anyways.

"Ah, I've seen her before. She's usually a regular for Yoongi though." Taehyung says, checking a name for Jungkook, who's doodling on a napkin while he waits for his new appointment to show up. "I see. I forgot that Yoongi took some days off recently- that's probably why she's now under your hand." He explains, and Jungkook huffs, his blonde hair tickling his cheek.

"So I'll have to adjust? I mean, Yoongi's style is pretty different from mine." The young man says, not looking up. He simply continues his little sketch of braided hair, while the lanky guy behind the counter clicks away on his laptop.

"Probably? I can't check the logs since they're private, but from what I know Yoongi only did the usual with her." he explains, shrugging as he looks at his friend and colleague. "I can re-schedule her to Hoseok if you want?" He asks, and Jungkook, after finishing his drawing, lets the pen fall and stretches.

"Yeah, that would probably be best. Wouldn't know what to do if she drops- rather not have him rip my head off, thanks." He says, before he gets up.

"Ah- you're still coming over tonight right? Y/N said she's gonna cook for us." He says, and Jungkooks body shivers a little.

Your name is nothing new to him, but the reaction to it most certainly was. You're a friend of Yoongi and Hoseok, having joined in on their gaming nights a few months ago after Yoongi had insisted you couldn't stay alone on a christmas day. Jungkook had never really asked why you were alone in the first place, but he had never really cared much for it either. Sure, you were an absolute gem to look at; technically absolutely his type, but he had early on decided not to pursue anything at all with you. He knew friendship wouldn't stay friendship with you, his own hunger way too large to simply be satiated by platonic gestures-

and he was also sure you wouldn't be able to handle him, truly. The conversation with Jimin, one of your best friends, had changed nothing about that. Because he didn't know you well enough to quite know if you were only bark and no bite- or if you were genuinely craving the same things he did.

But most recently, there had been a change in his opinion on you. Because he had seen you, come out of this place, out of Yoongis studio.

You knew about all of this- and you were still around.

Nothing had changed.

Now, of course he had instantly poked holes into the poor guy about if he had ever played with you before- and the answer he had gotten, had made him even more interested and antsy to get closer to you.

Because while you trusted Yoongi with everything you had, he had never done anything with you. You had simply been interested in watching a scene unfold- and had told him that you were definitely interested in participating. The reason Jungkook couldn't ask you directly was a clear one-

You were majorly intimidated by him, to the point of, he had never really had a proper conversation with you. Partially, he had to admit, because he himself didn't want to involve himself too much with you.

He’d always asked himself; wouldn’t you be even more distant and reserved with him if you knew this side of him? Sure, you always joked around that he probably tied his girls up and edged them until they cried- but did you know that he genuinely enjoyed these things?

Relationships for him were mere covers to call the arrangements he had with the girls that came and went in his life in a constant changing matter. Deep down, no one night stand could satisfy his most carnal desires, and he was very well aware of that. But he rather took what he could get and lived a fever dream for a few moments than stay on his own simply because his idea of pleasure and sex was not the norm.

No, he refused to deny himself that.

Maybe it was because he’d always lived a rather lavish life- with his parents well off and his own career skyrocketing he never really had any worries like you have had in the past. For some odd reason, while looking at the soft red rope in his hands, his thoughts suddenly went astray; he knew he could give you the stability you oh so craved, in every way shape and form. You were a diamond simply waiting to be perfected- you had so much potential, knowing that you were secretly wandering around the same paths as he did made him even more frustrated.

The hints were there, they were obvious; from the way you had sighed out in bliss when he’d teasingly pulled your hair just hours ago, to the sinful confessions he’d heard that night when he overheard you and jimin by accident. Of course he’d maybe wasted a thought or two of you underneath him to humor him once or twice- but now with the rope in his hands, his mind immediately began painting pictures of it against your skin. Would you enjoy it? And what if he took your sight, or only bound your hands? What if he denied you to cum, or if he took you from behind, grabbing your hair and pushing down your spine to make it arch so prettily- never with the intend to hurt, of course. He knew he’d have to tame you first, make you submit, but then again, he loved the challenge.

You made even the idea of touching fun.

He wouldn't even have to undress you to fully get himself worked up, he was sure of that. Only seeing you bow to his very command would be enough to satisfy him. Of course, over the course of time he would lead you deeper and deeper into his rabbit hole, but he would take it slow for you.

So, with a smile, and a wave of his hand, he walked past the girl he knew had been his appointment- grinning at Taehyung. "Of course I'll be there."

He wouldn't dare miss a night with you.

You were stressing. A little.

Maybe.

Maybe a lot.

Everything would've been fine if they guys would've all come over. But due to the bad weather, and Taehyungs bad habit of never properly fixing his god-forsaken dumpster of a car, only one of them would be able to make it. And of course the one had to be Jeon Jungkook.

Just great.

Now, it wasn't like you didn't like the guy, no way. The problem was more, that he was on the exact opposite of that spectrum. You had a major crush on him, which felt like the plot to a really bad drama show you would watch drunk at night- and in a way, it really felt like one too. Because you were pretty sure, he didn't even know your name.

But oh well- apparently he knew more than that. More specifically, your phone number. And it had scared the shit out of you at first to receive a message from him because how the hell did he get your number, but then again you remembered that one of your connections was Kim Taehyung- and everyone knew what he knew.

It was the doorbell that ripped you out of your skin almost.

You didn't even change, deciding any effort would be too late anyways; and you were still heavily confused in the first place why the fuck he would come over alone, even though you two had never exchanged much more than a friendly hello and goodbye. But there he was, as you opened the door- soft, white hoodie and ripped jeans, a bit damp from the rain outside as you let him inside.

He didn't move.

"Uh-" You started, but he just looked at you, friendly as ever, although a teasing glint in his eye made you frown a bit.

He thought it was cute.

"You didn't tell me to come in." He said, and you blinked once, twice, before your brain had properly restarted.

"Oh uh- come in?" You said, again, moving a bit to the side so he could walk in- which he still didn't. "Jungkook come on now its fucking cold-!" You whined, and he laughed, finally stepping inside. Had he always been like that? Could very well be the case, after all, you had never truly paid much attention to his behavior before.

"Thanks for letting me come over." He said, and you watched him as he untied his boots. "I had nothing else to do- and also, I didn't want you to waste any food, considering Tae said you cooked for us." He explained, before he got up again from his half kneeling position, boots now standing next to your significantly smaller shoes.

"Ah, it would've been fine, you guys don't have to feel bad." You waved off, smiling. "I was about to stop cooking anyways when Jimin had texted me, but well, then you did and uhm.." You drifted off, noticing how you were suddenly waiting for him to lead the way.

In your own apartment.

What the hell?

If he noticed however, he didn't show it. He simply smiled, and moved his hands inside the front pocket of his hoodie. "Ah, thanks. I appreciate it, really." He said, and you smiled at him as well, walking towards the main area of your apartment. It was small, very small compared to his own, but he enjoyed the feeling of it. Everything around him reminded him of you, in a way; from the pictures taped to the walls, to the stickers on your fridge. It all held a piece of you in it. "Your apartment is really nice, by the way." He commented, and you turned around, before getting plates and cutlery to bring inside the living room.

"Ah, right, it's your first time here." You said. "Thanks- the living room is right around the corner there, you can just sit down and I'll bring everything there." You explained, and he smiled, nodding without arguing.

You liked that.

Typically, there would've been this awkward 'oh no let me help you', but Jungkook didn't seem to dwell on it much, letting you do your thing instead of butting in and making things weird. He simply walked where you had directed him, sitting down on the couch as he went to place a blanket to the side. His fingers moved over the fabric for a moment, noticing how everything on the couch, including the pillows, were made of that same, soft material.

Interesting.

"Oh- you can just put that to the side, sorry I forgot to clean that up." You said, putting the food onto the table as he just smiles again. He waits for you to sit down as well before you turn up the TV volume a little, nerves finally setting in as you notice there's almost nothing you can talk to him about. "This is awkward." You comment, and he chuckles at that swallowing his bite as he looks at you.

"Doesn't have to be." He states, before he turns his body a bit more into your direction; a visible sign that he wants a conversation. "Tae has never mentioned what you do for a living." He states, an unasked question of his. He lets you decide if you want to take it as one or leave it as a statement- it makes you feel nice, in a way.

"Ah uh.. it's really boring, so I guess I never really talk about it either.." You say, and he tilts his head a little, a silent urging for you to continue. You feel insignificant next o him and his job however. He's superior to you in any way, and you don't want him to feel pity or laugh at you for your job. "I uh.. I'm a programmer for a.. pretty unknown game studio." You say, body almost shrinking in on itself as you wait for his reaction. Much to your surprise however, he makes a sound that's purely surprise, as he swallows his bite with a bit of urgency.

"Fuck really?! That's so cool though!" He argues, brows furrowed a bit as he playfully accuses you with his next words. "Indie or not, a programmer is the main force of any game. Did you work on any games I might know of?" He asks, eyes sparkling as he realizes he had finally found something to bond with you over.

"Uh.. 'Rabbit Boy' was our best hit until now.." You say, still a bit shy, but you're also a tad more confident now. His reaction is either well-staged, or he's genuinely interested in what you do.

"I played it I think. It was a bit short, but I loved the mechanics." He says, and before he can quite stop himself, his hand has already reached out to you, running over your hair as he praises you like second nature. "Wuah, so smart!" He says, before he gets a reaction he wouldn't have thought he'd get from shy-you.

Because you playfully shove him, your socked feet pushed against the side of his thigh as you giggle at him.

Interesting, again.

Now, Jimin has actually told him about this before. How you were anything but the shy girl when you were around people you knew and trusted. He had believed it- to an extend- because he had also thought that maybe you were like that to prove your spot between those guys. As the only girl, you easily got thrown under the bus, so you had to somehow own your spot in the midst of your circle of friends.

However, it seemed like you were truly just a brat, hiding behind that innocent facade of yours. A barking dog, with every intent to bite if needed.

And Jungkook knew, he'd love to tame you, show you your spot, and make you his prey.

The trashy movie your watching bores you, in a way. Jungkook has noticed this already, having taken note of your feet wiggling around, your teeth nibbling on the inside of your cheek, as you rest your cheek on your hand, elbow resting on the side of the couch.

“I don’t know why she’s so hesitant.” You mutter, pouting as you slump into the couch- uncaring that the side of your body now leans against his own. He feels your warmth- and for some reason it brings him comfort to notice that you’re seemingly growing more at ease. “I mean, it’s what she’s into, right?” You say, brows furrowed as you watch the screen.

“It’s not that simple.” Jungkook explains, trying to not make it obvious that he’s not necessarily talking about the movie. “Some men like to you know.. fight for a partner. Impress them. Win them over.” He explains, and he can feel you shift a little- until your head raises a bit, watching him as he watches you; gazes locked, and you can’t look away. You’re shy, you’re growing restless, but his eyes are like magnets; there’s no way you can avert your gaze.

“And.. you?” You ask, voice not loud at all, as if you don’t even notice you’re saying it. He loves that- loves the fact that you’re slowly letting him closer- not only physically.

“I like to earn my spot in their lives.” He states, and your mind suddenly begins to spin. You’ve always seen him as someone who doesn’t care much about emotions or feelings, or relationships for that matter. And maybe he doesn’t- maybe he just says this because he knows your weak spots. But the way his words fall into your ears makes you believe him. “I like to see my partner thrive; I love to see them grow. And..” he says, boldly deciding to slowly reach out his hand that was placed on the back of the couch- his fingers running through your hair, only brushing through, never pulling (no matter how much you’re craving it secretly). “I love to see them let go.” He humms out, and there’s a sudden shiver down your back, one that he definitely notices.

This is it. This is where you’ll let him touch you, let him wreck you, let him ruin you. You lean in closer, and so does he, but just when your lips are about to touch, he smiles gently- a warm affectionate gesture that you’ve never seen from him. And with it being directed at you, it’s even more meaningful- but it’s all about his next move, the way his inked fingers trace your cheek, before he speaks.

“You’re not ready yet.”

And with that, he turns back to the TV.

You huff, and it's the first time you know exactly what you're doing. You knew from Yoongi what Jungkook did in his freetime- you knew that this stuff was his expertise. Defeated, you looked down towards your knees, as your thoughts start to grow more and more frustrated. He probably didn't even see you like that, having only visited you out of pity, and not because he wanted to see you.

You were probably already friendzoned, and he was too nice to outright say it into your face. It made your emotions turn sour as the situation grew more and more awkward for you.

"What're you thinking about?" He asks, and you don't answer. What was there to say anyways? You really didn't want to have this weird conversation where he would tell you that oh yeah you're a nice girl, but he's not the right guy, the usual stuff you've already heard time and time again. "Y/N." He says, his voice dropping a little, but you only chew on the inside of your cheek again, eyes moving towards the TV screen. You didn't want to talk- you just hoped he would now sigh and get up, leaving so you could forget about all of this. You could maybe fake being sick for the next week or so to avoid him, yeah, that would be enough time to gloss over this entire situation. But he only clicks his tongue, hands suddenly moving your legs as he moves your body to face him.

Looking at his face is your first mistake.

His eyes are dark and almost angry, irritated as he looks as you. His jaw is clenched, and his hands stay on your knees for a moment, before he's sure enough that he has your attention. Only then does he speak, his voice nowhere near as soft and light as it had been before. "I know what you're thinking, and I don't like it." He says, and that's when you make your second mistake.

"Can we not right now? You don't know shit." You say, and he stares you down for a moment, until his head tilts a slight bit, eyes growing predatory as the corners of his lips tilt upwards. It resembles a small smile, yes, but it's not meant to be one. No, the first thing you have to think about is a wolf snarling at you, ready to put his packmate into their place for acting out.

It makes your spine tingle.

"Hm, maybe, but we can be classy about it, no?" He asks, and you scoff, trying to move your legs away from him, as he scans you.

At this point, he can see clearly that you're testing him.

So he gets up promptly, moving you around so you're standing in front of him. His inked hand finds your hair, gripping without mercy as he pulls your head back, your gaze now forced to stay on his as he calmly speaks. "You think I'm not into you like that- and you're as wrong as you could ever get." He says, biting his tongue as to not let a petname slip. He'd love to use them, but he knows that it's not yet time. That would be foul play, in a way; he doesn't want to seduce you.

He wants to make you understand.

"Trust me when I say I'd love to just throw you over my legs to spank that attitude out of you right now." He explains, and you whine- not in pain, but simply as a reaction to his confession. "But you don't know what you're getting yourself into." He continues, and pulls a bit to interrupt your next words. You know that you can get free any second you want to- but for some reason, there's no urge to do so. "You think of this as some game to play, you think of yourself as someone who can take all of it at once, but you don't even get the simplest and most important things about this entire thing." You swallow, as you stay still, finally giving up your fight as he relaxes the grip he still has on you. "Even now, it's not me controlling this situation. Its you." He says, letting go of you as his hands rest on your cheeks, eyes searching for any clues of discomfort. Only when he finds none, does he continue. "I will only ever have as much control over you as you're willing to give to me." He smiles again, this time, warm and comforting. "If you're really willing to do this, we will do this right. You'll have to trust me first, and I'll have to get to know you fully first, before anything else happens. Understood?" He asks.

And you nod.

"Do you know what you just agreed to?" He chuckles, and, shyly, you shake your head.

"See?" He grins, breaking skincontact with you. "You're not ready yet."

His brows furrow when he sees you sitting on the counter, Taehyung talking to you. "What're you doing here?" He asks, and you pout, as Taehyung moves away, not wanting to get involved into anything this time. "Stop that face. We talked about this last week, why're you here now?" He asks, and you tilt your head innocently.

"Maybe I'm here for Yoongi?" You say, and his eyes grow darker for a second, before he composes himself.

"Good try, but he's still off work." He states, and you deflate a bit.

"I just.. wanted to see, I guess." You say, and he smiles a bit impishly.

"Oh? I mean, I have a scene in twenty minutes.." He asks, and internally, you cringe. No, you don't want to see him screw or even touch another woman in the ways you secretly want him to touch you instead. No, you're technically here to maybe talk him into show you at least a little bit. But it doesn't seem like he'll cave in anytime soon, so you sigh out.

"Okay, okay, I'll see you around, I guess." You say, hopping down from the counter before you take a step towards the exit.

"Ah well, I'll drive you home then." He states, and you grow confused as he leans against the counter. "Seeing as my scheduled appointment wants to leave, I have time off." He states, and you skin tingles. "Come on now, before I change my mind." He states, as he walks you outside again, leading you towards his car.

"I didn't mean to turn up so.. I don't know. Sorry." You said, and he gets into the drivers seat, shaking his head.

"I can understand you, trust me." He says, as he starts the engine and drives off. "If you're okay with it, I'd like to get something from my apartment, and then drive to yours." He says, and you tilt your head.

"Why not to the studio, or your place?" You ask, and he nods.

"While those are places I feel comfortable, they're unfamiliar to you. It's best if we start in a place that's comforting and gives you a sense of security." He states, and you nod.

Jungkook, in your eyes, never really seemed as mature as he's acting in those moments. It's as if he switches every time you two change topics; any time this particular one comes up, his mood changing into a serious one. Now, you're not stupid, you know the risks- and of course you had somewhat done your research online about the damages that could occur during all of this. And there's also the not too little chance it really isn't something for you after all- and in a way, that scares you. Because you want jungkook, but what if you don't want.. this?

Instead of voicing that out, you simply keep quiet as he gets out the car, and inside again after fetching what looks like an overnight bag. "You're staying over?" You ask, and he simply throws it on to the backseat.

"Maybe. We'll see." He says, and you don't question him as he drives. "Let's get something to eat. What're you craving?" He asks, as he keeps his attention on the road. He notices how you seem to think, already able to practically see the gears turning inside your head. "Don't think about what I could want. I asked what you want." He says, calmly, and so soft, that you simply let your words out.

"Tae usually get's me food.." You start, and Jungkook nods, as if understanding. You watch him smile a little.

"Let's get some junk food and eat it in the car." He simply states, and you nod, happy that he seemingly really did get what you were trying to say. For you, things like these were almost like rituals- like you and tae getting random icecream just to hurry home every time to not have it melt.

Maybe this would become a memory only for you and Jungkook.

"You're nervous." Jungkook says, speaking out what's obvious. You don't know what he'll do, you're confused whats in his bag- you're nervous, just like he said. "Why is that?" He asks, casually sitting on your bed with you. He had earlier told you not to panic-clean it; he was not there to be impressed. He was simply a visitor for now, nothing more, nothing less. You shrugged. There were a lot of reasons you were nervous. "If you want this to work, I need to have proper communication with you. Guessing will get me nowhere." He says, but his voice is not upset. He's simply informing you.

"I.. don't know what you'll do?" You say, and He smiles, sitting more comfortably, as he shows you his open hands.

"I'm not gonna do anything for the moment." He tells you, and you shrug.

"But wasn't that the plan?" You ask him.

"What would you want me to do then?" He asks instead, not answering your question. He's testing you, he want's to know if you really are aware of everything. He's also not only asking you about what you want him to do to you- but with you, as well. He was unsure if you wanted to romantically involve yourself with him, or simply explore something new at his side.

He's afraid he'd be okay with either, just because its you.

"Are you going to tie me up?" You ask, and Jungkook grins, before he laughs. You're growing shy, unsure, and he instantly makes sure you know he's simply laughing about what you said, not about you. His hand holds yours- and it's weirdly reassuring.

"No, although I can imagine you looking very pretty in that position." He says. "No, come here." He says, lays down on the bed, and you stay where you are, with reasonable distance between you two. "I want you to come as close to me as you feel comfortable. Don't force it- take your time. I'm not expecting anything, please remember that." He tells you calmly, not looking at you to give you mental distance from him as well. His eyes are actually closed, his body relaxed.

You don't move for a moment. You want to test how long he can really play this patient role- but after around five or ten minutes, he's still not moving. He's not even saying anything, and you're unsure if he's asleep or not.

There's only one way to find out.

You carefully lay down a little away from him, on your side, simply looking at him. It's weird to see him like that; you've always imagined him to be a very dominant and demanding person, from what you've heard and seen of him. But Jungkook doesn't feel like any of the guys you've been with; he also doesn't feel like Taehyung, or Yoongi, or Hoseok.. Jungkook, weirdly enough, feels comfortable. He's relaxed, and laid back, and still has that slight glint of power over you.

You move closer, your curiosity getting the best of you as scenes and pictures of him holding you fill your head. Is he even a cuddler? You can't imagine him being all soft and sweet for gestures like that, but then again, you didn't really think you'd ever be in a situation like this either. Maybe you were judging a book by its cover.

He smells nice- that's one of the first things you notice once you get closer. One of his arms is stretched out to the side- his tattooes visible, but partially hidden by his sweater sleeve. You want to look at them, so you test the waters- by touching his arm, just a small poke with your finger. You can see the corners of his lips twitch; he's definitely awake. You move his arm a little, inside facing you as you get a detailed look at his artworks. They're detailed, they fit him, the dark Ink a stark contrast to his skin.

His sweater seems soft.

You slowly lay down again, your head resting on his biceps as you simply lay for a moment.

This is nice.

You feel more and more bold with every minute that passes, not even minding the way he sometimes moves around. You're growing at ease, so much so, that you simply throw all hesitation out of the window, and cuddle up to him. one of your hands is on his chest, while your head rests ontop of the inside of his shoulder.

This is really nice.

"Are you falling asleep?" He asks, voice not loud at all, as his arm moves, palm resting on your forearm as he holds you. You don't mind it- you feel relaxed enough to really actually do fall asleep- so you nod. "That's good." He tells you.

"But didn't you bring stuff to try?" you ask, and Jungkook nods.

"We got time. A small nap is always a good idea." He tells you, and you simply nod- making him smile.

He's glad.

Because by falling asleep on him like that, you don't even know how much you've complimented him at all. You're relaxed enough around him, comfortable enough to let him close to you in a vulnerable state such as sleep. It makes him wonder how far you'd let him go- would you let anyone get so close so quickly? A sudden rush of protectiveness curses through his body, fills him up, as he swears he can't let you go now. No, what if someone else gets you like this? What if someone takes advantage of your open mind like that? He doesn't even want to imagine.

Jungkook really has it bad.

You slowly wake up to a bit of weight on your face. "jungkook what're you doing?" you giggle, and he chuckles as well as he takes the hand away from over your eyes. He looks well rested, with his eyes still not fully open.

"Nothing." He says. "Just teasing." He says, but of course, nothing he does is just random teasing. Everything he does is calculated- it's to test you, to study you, to make sure he gets to know you. "Are you hungry?" He asks instead.

"Not for food."

He has to let that process for a moment, until he laughs. He's really got it with you, he thinks, as he suddenly moves, eyes dark, while he's now ontop of you, his hands holding your wrists. Expecting you to look surprised, he finds none of that however. It intrigues him, the way you don't seem to be nervous or fearful at all. It makes him wonder what you'd really do to him if he was to advance in ways he wanted to. "Careful, sweetheart." He says, and your eyes sparkle with a silent challenge.

"Or what?"

His grip gets a bit tighter at that, eyes a bit darker. "Someone's eager." He says lowly. "Don't you think you're biting off more than you can chew right now?" He asks, before he clicks his tongue, slowly falling into his own headspace. He knows however not to let himself slip. "Give me a random word." He asks, demands, and you say whatever finds your mind in that moment.

"Bunny." You say.

He raises his eyebrow for a second, but doesn't question it. "I want you to say that, loud and clear, as soon as you feel uncomfortable." He lectures you seriously. "It doesn't matter what it is. Physically, or mentally, or if you simply don't want me to continue because. I need you to tell me that you will say it." His gaze is intense, and you nod. "I promise you; I'll never get mad, or upset, or angry, or disappointed with you. My ego isn't worth your safety." He humms out at the end, and your eyes soften.

He notices it instantly, and it affects him more than he'd like to admit.

"I promise I'll say it if I need to." You tell him, and he grows comfortable again.

"Can I touch you?" He asks, softly, and you nod, before verbally answering him with a yes. "Remember; I'll only ever have as much power and control over you as you will give me." He mumbles, head now dipped down to ghost his lips over the skin of your neck. "But once you give it to me-" He says, his knee situating itself in between your legs to spread them in a silent command. "-I won't give it back." He growls, before he bites down, releasing the skin after hearing your delicate mewl, kissing the spot as if to apologize.

He's not sorry.

"Let me ask you.." He says, feeling you rut against his leg that's pressed against your center. "what do you really want from me?" He asks, and you open your eyes, movements slowly coming to a halt as you notice the way he looks at you.

He almost looks uncertain.

"I.." You want him. You know that- you want all of his bad habits and weird quirks. You want to get to know him and everything that comes with it. Hell, he was the main reason you even got into the entire scene in the first place. "You." You say, deciding its best to practice honesty.

"Me?" He asks, genuinely a little confused.

You nod. "Yeah. You." You say. It's a little weird, the whole situation, but you don't mind it. Your hands slowly slip out of his grasp, before they instead intertwine their fingers with his. He feels weirdly caught off guard by the gesture- his past encounters and relationships never having included things like these. So much so, that Jungkook genuinely believed those things to be simple movie-gestures. Overdone, and not realistic. "Like uhm.. if you want to. If you just want to, you know, I.. guess I'd be okay with that too-" You say, looking away, as Jungkook answers.

"I want you too." He answers, eyes searching yours for any glimmer of dishonesty. But he doesn't find it- there is none. There's just you. "I really want you too." He murmurs out, getting closer, before he lets himself loose, his lips finding yours.

He's never been a fan of kissing, but he can very much already imagine kissing you for hours.

Its not just you letting go in that moment, its him too.

Because unbeknownst to you, he's not just opening you a door to his world of unspoken fantasies-

He's also opening his heart as well.

Your first time together is slow and comfortable.

It happens just a day after you had both decided to pursue an actual relationship with one another. He's gentle, careful, but not hesitant. He's exploring.

Inside of his head, he notes down every noise and every twitch of muscle. You sigh as he eats you out, the small ponytail of his unable to hold onto all of his hair as his eyes are partially hidden behind the blonde strands. He's watching you, his fingers having already stretched you out, but then he sits up. You whine, with him having stolen your release for a second time. "Let's play a little, yeah?" He says with an amused yet calm tone. You're already unable to do much about your position; your wrists bound to your bed over your head, carefully tied knots comfortable against your skin, as long as you don't pull. "Legs open." He calls out as you try and close them, and you whine again; testing his patience as you still go ahead and disobey his command. He watches, moves forward, before he pulls them apart again. "You want to cum, no?" He asks, and you nod, frustratedly so. "I wonder what made you think you've earned that reward from me." He tells you, eyes scanning your form as you pull on your restraints a little. He's not fully into his own headspace yet- he's still very much on high alert to notice any signs of discomfort coming from you.

He has to learn just as much as you do.

"You're lucky you're so sweet." He says, before he crawls closer again, his hand on your center, as he enters you with two fingers. Its not enough, but then his thumb draws circles on your clit- and you're approaching, quickly. "Hm? Won't you cum?" And then you say it.

"Can I?"

It's so desperate, so needy, so submissive, that it sends a chill down his spine. He moves closer, kisses your neck, as he can't help but let the rush of it get to him. He is, after all, just as desperate for release. No matter if its his, or yours.

"Such a good girl, of course you can." He tells you. "What a sweet one, such good manners.." He teases playfully, and you tug at your restraints as you come undone under his hands. He unties your wrists and you're holding onto him as soon as you're free, and he lets you hold onto him in your post orgasmic bliss.

Its after a moment that you realize it.

"Wait-" You say, sitting up to look at him. "You- I mean, you didn't get to-" You start, but Jungkook waves it off.

"Its fine, really." He tells you, and you know he's serious. "I'll just wait until it goes down, or take care of it in your bathroom if thats okay with you." He says, patting the side next to him to lay down on. "Come here." He asks, and you comply, before you speak again.

"You.." You start, not looking at him. "Could just take care of it here." You say. "Or I could.." you start, and he looks at you.

"Do you want that, or do you only feel like you have to?" He asks, and you shrug. You take some time, before you answer.

You've seen most of Jungkook until now. From his strong arms, his back, his inked skin, to his thighs and legs. You have seen all- but that. And you've never really considered giving anything back in that way to anyone because of one single embarrassing moment- but with Jungkook, for some reason, you wanted to try.

"I want to." You say, and he nods. "But I don't know how.." You say, and he smiles reassuringly.

"I'll guide you." He tells you, before he scans your face. He's never really felt that desired- at least not in the way he does in that moment with you. "You can take it out for starters." He says, and you nod, before you hesitate a little.

Jungkook is nice, when it comes to that. He's patient, always lets you do the pacing for now, until you trust him enough. This is only the start, after all. You stay cuddled up to his side, but your hand ventures towards his sweats, where you can see his prominent erection still waiting. Slowly, you push the fabric down, both his sweats and boxers underneath- his hips lifting a bit to make it easier for you, until he's freed from his clothes.

You've never really thought much about looks when it came to that department, but Jungkook was, in each and every way, highly attractive. Now you knew, that there was literally nothing about him you didn't desire.

Your first touches are a little hesitant, testing the waters, and Jungkook tries not to react too much to it to give you time. Its when you start to move your hand however, that he closes his eyes, head now completely resting on the pillows beneath as he just decides to enjoy what you might give him. His hips twitch upwards a little after you'd run your thumb over the head, precum glistening while your hand uses it as lubricant to move more smoothly.

He sighs out.

And you grow bold at that, moving to sit up and escape out of his embrace, before you dip down to feed your curiosity. As your tongue touches his skin, his muscles contract, the action not expected since he didn't look what you were doing. You've been told once before that you're not.. the best at this- but Jungkook made you want to try. If you would've looked, you would've spotted the intense stare that Jungkook had been sending your way; mesmerized by the way you tucked your hair behind your ear oh so sweetly, before you let a drop of saliva escape from between your lips, taking him in soon after it had dropped onto his awaiting length.

You really were something else.

He'd gotten head time and time before, and it was never something he didn't like- but he'd also rarely ever cared that much emotionally about the person giving it to him. It's weird, how an emotional connection can make you so much more sensitive to things- such as in that moment, as your tongue moved over his skin while inside your warm mouth, lips heavenly on his cock.

He couldn't imagine what it would be like to be inside you.

There's nothing he could teach you, nothing he could tell you to do, as you moved, sucked and licked. He was breathing heavily already, his hand finding yours as you hold onto it. He sits up, can't help it, has to somehow touch you while you're not letting go of your task. His palm escapes your hand, rests on your head instead, runs through your hair before it grips a little. You moan, vibrations making him throw his head back as he groans out, feeling his end coming closer. "If you don't want to swallow, let go." He grits out, but you suck harder instead, and its when your hand finds his balls that he lets himself fall back onto the mattress beneath, shooting his load into your mouth as you swallow it down.

He's on cloud nine.

You're thoughtful enough to pull his underwear and pants back up, laying on your stomach next to him, waiting, watching, with impish eyes. He looks so radiant, so relaxed, so at ease. It fills you with a weird sense of pride; since in a way, its your doing. "Why did you tell me you don't know how to do that." He comments, rather than asks, slowly calming his breathing back down. His eyes open, hand pushing some hair out of your face. "Thank you. That was amazing." He says, and you shrug.

"Thanks for the compliment." You say, looking at him.

"I have a request." He says, and you nod. "Not like that." He teases, making you blush. "No, but seriously." Jungkook knows that you've been with other people before. It scares him to know that some of your experiences might not have been good- he knows some absolute horror stories Taehyung had told him. "I want you to take all that you've experienced with your former partners.. all those moments, emotions, bad memories, all of it." He tells you, hand now resting on your cheek- a gesture in which you lean into. "And throw them away. Forget them." He tells you.

"This is a new start, for both of us."

"How many clients have you been with?" You ask, casually sitting on the kitchen counter as Jungkook washes the dishes. Its your first night in his apartment, and you're more comfortable than you thought you'd be.

"None." He tells you, and you're ready to snort out a laugh, but he doesn't look at all like he's joking. Seeing your confusion, he continues while scrubbing a plate. "None of us actually have sex with our clients. Some only come to talk, really- others come to let go." He explains, and you nod. "I've never touched, nor been with someone intimately during a scene." He tells you.

"So you had scenes with your partners then?" You ask, and he shrugs.

"In the beginning, yeah." He admits, shrugging. "But I eventually gave up on it. It's not something a lot of people find very appealing. It all looks great in theory, but when practiced, most find its not for them." Draining the sink, he dries his hands on the dish towel, before putting it in its proper place.

"Could you.. imagine a relationship without it?" You ask, and he sighs, shaking his head.

"Not really." He looks at you after a moment. "Its who I am, and its how I love. I can't change that." He tells you, and you nod. Its understandable really, and you like that he has clear lines he likes to follow. It's weirdly comforting to know that he has his life so under control- its all you've ever wanted really.

It's something Jungkook might be able to give you.

It was weird, the feeling of the rope against your skin. He’d been right about it earlier; it wasn’t rough or itchy at all. But maybe that was just because it was him doing it. Maybe he was simply fogging up your senses.

It would make sense.

“Okay?” He humms out, voice gentle and calm while he stops his hands for a moment, palm on your shoulder where it warms up your skin. You’re unsure what okay really means- okay like, he’s finished? Or is he asking if you’re okay? Or is he asking for permission? “Speak to me- don’t just think.” He says, eyes watching you in such a manner that made your slightly trembling body calm down.

“I’m not sure what- what you mean by, okay.” You say, and he smiles, eyes roaming over your body for a moment, but surprisingly not in a way that would make you feel exposed. You’re almost naked, after all- only your most private parts hidden from his sight. You can see the very evident tent in his pants; but he doesn’t seem like he’s frustrated or fazed about it.

“Good Job telling me.” He says first and foremost, and you start to feel warm inside. “I was asking if you were okay. Do you remember your colors?” He asks, and you nod, before verbally answering him with a ‘yes’. He nods again, a hand running over your head, fingers running through your hair affectionately. “Good. I’ll finish the last knots now- remember you can stop at any time. Don’t hesitate.” He says, and you nod.

He grabs the rope again; the tiny fact that he’d chosen one in your favorite color making you feel.. well, you didn’t know. You could feel your nose sting, before it shot into your eyes, making them water; something that Jungkook immediately noticed. “Color?” He asks, and you shake your head.

“Green, Green, I’m okay-“ you say, but you can’t stop the tears. He’s quick to sit down in front of you after tying the last knot- and it’s the first time you quietly look at them. They’re so delicate, so well done, but there’s no time to dwell on it as he lifts you chin gently.

“Talk to me.” He says, hands on your shoulders to give you some sense of stability. You’re safe, you don’t feel bad, but just..

“I don’t know. There’s so much-“ you begin, and he softly smiles, as if you’re not currently completely bound with no chance of proper movement. You take a deep breath, holding it before you release again, silently following the advices he’d given you prior. “Why do I feel so.. comfortable? I feel safe even though I’m in such a dangerous situation- I’m.. this is weird isn’t it, I should be.. I don’t know. Why’re you not doing anything? Wasn’t this supposed to be like, a sex session or something I don’t get it-“ you babble, and he lets you, before he speaks.

“You still don’t quite get it, do you?” He asks, and your glistening eyes stare up at him. “I don’t need something as simple as sex to feel satisfied.” He explains, and you nod, even though you don't quite understand. "I feel euphoric right now, even though you probably won't quite believe me." He says, his smile evident as his fingers trace the knots on your skin. It's there that you see it; the glimmer in his eyes, something you've never seen before with someone else. "The fact that you let me do this, it's all I need." He humms out. He looks at you, a silent question, and you take a deep breath.

You don't quite know what you're doing. Its weird- but seeing him like that makes you feel weightless. It happens slowly, you don't quite grasp what it is, but the feeling is nice. It's like letting go- like standing on the highest platform of the universe and just jumping down. And when you open your eyes, all you see is him.

He can't take his eyes off of you.

He's seen it often enough to spot it, knows what it looks like, but it still holds such a deep meaning to him to see you fall into your subspace for the very first time. You're so beautiful like that, so ethereal and enchanting as you lean forward to get closer to him. He's careful you dont accidentally hurt yourself with the big scissors on the bed close by- emergency equipment to release you asap if needed.

He knows escape is the furthest thing on your mind right now.

Able to do anything he'd want with you, he's not like that however. He's responsible enough to let you float for a moment, before he speaks to you again. "Baby?" He asks, and you nod, nuzzling his shoulder as he holds you close. "You're doing so good. Can you do something for me baby?" He questions again, and you nod, not parting from him however before he talks again. "Can you sit straight for a moment? Just like that, good girl." He praises as you instantly follow his command. "I got you, okay? I got you, you're safe." He repeats, as he slowly unties your body. It's careful reassuring and slow movements that make it possible to untie you- too quickly could make you drop; a state of sudden shift in mental state, that could send you straight into distress. Jungkook doesn't ever want to be the cause of that for you.

You're underneath him, and he's careful, as he undresses after placing the scissors onto the bedside table where it cant lead to any accidents. He also reaches inside the table, pulling out a condom from a box safely stored, before he gets himself ready.

Not even for a second is his attention not on you however.

"Hands up baby." He commands, and you do as he wants, already squirming as he advances towards you, fingers stretching you out as you grow huffy at the prospect of being edged again. He's quick to catch on though. "Hm, I'm not gonna be mean baby." He tells your fuzzy mind. "But I gotta get you ready, no?" Fingers steadily helping you relax, he waits until he deems you ready.

You struggle to keep your hands up as he enters you, but your mind is adamant on keeping his command. He groans out, kisses your neck, as he slowly begins to move lazily. It's enough for pleasure- but not enough to make you cum. "Good fucking girl. Look at you. My baby." He chants, and something inside you stirs at the last words.

His Baby.

You're his.

He wants you.

It makes you whine as he chuckles, nipping at your skin. "You can touch me baby, good job." He says, and your hands are instantly around his neck. You're mumbling something, but its not words. It's not coming out the way you think it does, and Jungkook doesn't mind, doesn't care. Its another one of those things fueling him up, urging him on.

You're his perfect puzzle piece.

He lets go.

"Turn around princess." He says breathless, and you follow his instructions eagerly. His hand rests on the back of your neck for a moment, leaves its place for a second to move your hair away from your face, before he gently pushes down. He's inside in a heartbeat, this time thrusting with more strength.

Something overcomes him that hasn't happened before.

Usually, this position is what he loves most- and yet, it's not what he wants. He wants you, he wants you close, he cant touch you enough. His arms snake around your torso, just underneath the bottom of your breasts, as he pulls you towards him. Your back arches so prettily, and he gasps out, breathing heavy as he continues his attack on your neck. "You're mine." He growls out, can't keep it inside anymore, his grip on you tightening. "Mine." His thrusts stutter, his hand reaches for your center, desperate fingers helping you find your release. It coats your thighs, stains the bed, and he pushes himself as deep as he can once he finishes himself.

He's breathing heavily, he's out of his mind, running on autopilot as his hands still hold you. He pulls out after a moment, a whine from you getting reassured by his own voice, before he leaves the bed, getting a warm damp washcloth ready for you. He's careful, gentle, seems to caress your skin more than clean it, places kisses every now and then and sends praises your way.

"How do you feel?" He asks, voice low and caring as he continues his aftercare.

"Like you love me a lot." You sleepily say, eyes still foggy, and he smiles.

"Good." He tells you, reaching out to kiss your lips, still high on his own afterglow. "That's how you're always supposed to feel like."

"I've quit." He tells you one night on the couch, as you sit close to him. You'd asked him about his sidejob at Yoongi's- and this was his answer. Instantly, you sit up straight, fearing that he might've felt obligated because of you. "Before you start, yes, it was because of you." He says, and you already have the whine in your throat- but it doesn't make it out, as his fingers lazily trace your collarbone peaking out from his shirt you're wearing. "But it was also my decision. I just didn't enjoy it anymore- and you're more I could ever want really." He says, shrugging as you stare at him.

It was still new to you.

Although you knew that he was probably more than just a wild loverboy collecting partners and gaming all day, you never would've thought of him like this. He's a kid at heart still, teasing and playfighting every now and then- but he's mostly a strong shoulder to lean on for you. He really is the security and safety you'd always searched for. "What're you thinking about?" He asks, pulling you closer as he continues watching the TV show.

"You." You say, and he chuckles.

"Cute." He answers. He looks at you for a moment, TV long forgotten, before you crawl over his lap, shirt rising enough to give him free view of your thighs and panties. You've skipped the pants tonight- a habit of yours he enjoys a lot. His palms instantly find the soft skin, running along the outside of your thighs before they find your behind, squeezing, before he slaps it playfully. He grins as you squeal, admiring the way the very tips of your ears turn red. "You're really precious, you know that?" He tells you, and you shrug. "You are." He confirms, and you smile shyly.

"May I kiss you?" You ask, and he smiles warmly.

"We're not in a scene baby, do as you wish." He tells you, and you nod, leaning forward to capture his lips with yours. Its a feeling you can't quite get enough of, and it seems like he enjoys it equally as much. His inked hands find their way underneath your shirt, running over your back and spine as you shudder. He doesn't find what he seeks, your underwear long gone and left in the bedroom, and he loves it, instantly moves to your chest where he finds the soft flesh, his thumb running over one of your nipples teasingly. You're arching your back already, moving around as if you can't sit still. "My baby." He mumbles out, "If you can be so kind and get me a condom, you can ride me if you want to." He tells you, and you nod.

By now you easily know your way around his apartment.

So its no wonder you quickly return from your now shared bedroom, condom in hand as you approach him again, settling onto his lap. You're not shy with him nor his body anymore, eagerly taking the condom out of the package for him to roll it down onto his length. "You good?" He asks, and you nod, pulling your panties aside as you slowly sink down on him.

He lets his head rest back on the couch, and you lean into him, for a change returning the favor of kissing his neck. He's grinning, throughoutly enjoying things, and you love watching him. It's a visual reminder to yourself that this is your doing. You're making him feel that way, and no one else. It makes you confident, and it makes you feel cherished in ways you haven't felt before.

Once you start to move, Jungkooks hands help you along. Its slow and lazy, not at all hurried. There's no real goal; you probably wouldn't even mind not cumming at all. This was just being close- a way of feeling connected in the most intimate of ways. Connected like only lovers could be.

You love him.

And it slips out as a tiny 'I love you' in between your sighs and gasps, and he hears it so clearly, he can't help himself but speed up the pace.

"I love you too." He chants out, kissing the side of your head as you rest against his chest, head on his shoulder. "I love you so much." He says, almost inaudible, his arms holding you as close as he can.

Jeon Jungkook doesn't need sex to feel satisfied.

But he will most certainly need you for now and forever.

And he's totally fine with that.

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. You know the drill. I know where you live. I don't. But still. Be scared. Boo.

[sweetberrysmooch]

HC: And There Was Only One Bed (Affectionate) [pt. 1]

(Zzzzzzz.....)

(This is unfortunately gonna have to be in several parts, mainly so I can get something out to you guys while still being able to work on the rest ^^)

Basic sleeping hcs with ya boys, and sort of... smell hcs? Idk, I got into a mood and couldn’t stop writing about smells so here it goes lol.

Characters: Dream, Techno, Wilbur.

Warnings: There’s mentions of nightmares in Dream’s and a emotional breakdown in Wilbur’s, but that’s it.

Song Recommendation: Dream A Little Dream Of Me- The Mamas & Papas.

Up Next- Quackity, George, and Bad. [pt. 2]

Hope you have nice day today <3 Enjoy!

Dream:

Depending on where you’ve fallen asleep, Dream will kind of work with your position before he lets himself relax.

He prefers it when the two of you are in your bed, with him near the closest door and on his back and with you sleeping against his side, arm stretched over his middle. It’s a good way for him to be between any intruders that may come and to still have you close. But no matter where you are, he has to make sure that he can protect you before he lets his guard down.

Another position he likes is when you’re tucked against his chest under his chin, sitting on his lap or curled up together in bed. Being tall with a broad chest means he makes a pretty good pillow, so use those puppies when you can 👀👀

Smells like a forest, most times. Almost like wild honey, but it’s a very delicate smell. You don’t notice it until your first hug, when you were upset and crying and he pulled you to into his arms so you could hide your face. Now you smell it everywhere he is, in your house, on your bed, even your clothes smell like him. Neither of you say anything, but he slowly begins leaving his soap at your house. Just in case, y’know, if you ever run out.

Other times, when he seems a little more... off, he smells like the beginning to a storm, like ozone and petrichor. Those days he doesn’t speak that much, and keeps you at arms length. He sits quietly and watches your doors and windows with obvious intent, and is gone before morning. You don’t think he even moved from his spot throughout the night, much less slept there. You don’t see him for a few days afterwards.

Usually he remains as still as a log, but sometimes he has fidgeting fits where he twitches and grumbles to himself. Sometimes you’ll even catch him speaking full-on sentences, though they don’t make much sense. Mostly normal out of place stuff, but once you heard him talking about someone called DreamXD, and figured you’d ask him about his oc the next morning.

He has nightmares often too. It’s hard to tell when he’s asleep but he’ll wake up sweating and trembling and lean over you to check you’re still breathing. He won’t ever tell you what they’re about, but it isn’t hard to guess when he buries his nose into your hair and holds you tightly like you might leave him.

If the two of you aren’t sleeping in your house or completely alone, he won’t sleep until you are. Sleep loss doesn’t quite affect him like it does others until after a pretty long time of not doing it, to which he’ll become surlier and more angry until he eventually just clocks out. He wakes up extremely well rested 2 days later and the process repeats. Sleeping at your house is the closest he gets to proper sleeping, and it’s the only time he can ever feel truly relaxed when doing so.

When he can’t fall asleep, he goes straight to watching you. He gently plays with your hair and fiddles with your fingers, relishing in how unmarred and soft they are in comparison to his much rougher, bigger ones. It’s a sure fire way to get him to mellow out and relax, and he finds that sleep ends up coming much quicker.

(Dream wakes up in warmth one night, with rain knocking on window panes instead of what ever shelter he could scrape together and a fire crackling far off. He deduces immediately that he’s in someones house, and it doesn’t take long before he notices the owner, asleep in his lap. 

Your legs are slung over the arm of the padded chair he’s sitting in, a book (one of his own, he acknowledges, an older version of a well known storybook that he has memorized already) loosely held onto in your hands, and your head rests on his shoulder. 

He expects to feel worried soon, the fear of you getting close to him reappearing to ruin another close moment. But it never comes. All he can feel is the safety and comfort you always emanate, driving away his tension and soothing his mind. He closes his eyes, and falls back asleep.)

Techno:

Techno is very very touch starved ^^; While he may not be the only one on this list that is, Techno is definitely the most…. shy about it. He won’t ever directly ask to sleep next to you, and will actively try to avoid that. He’s afraid of making you uncomfortable but also of being close to you in general? It’s an odd mix of emotions, like eating mints and a hot pepper at the same time and then feeling hell fire burn inside of your body. Anytime the two of you have to sleep in the same room as each other, he will immediately offer you the better spot and go find a chair to sleep in, and he won’t accept a no.

The most you can do is make the choice to go sleep next to him. It’ll weird him out a little before becoming overwhelmingly endearing when he processes the fact that you would rather sleep next to him than somewhere more pleasant. When you’re asleep however, he’ll pick you up and move you to the place where he wanted you to be. He’ll drape his massive cape over your body and (after assuring himself six different times that you are in fact asleep) softly press a kiss to the crown of your head. If he runs his thumb over your cheek once, then thats his business.

Later on in your relationship though, after he relaxes and settles a bit, it’s pretty unusual if you don’t fall asleep next to him. He still won’t outright ask for it, but he kinda just hopes that when he starts his nightly routine before bed that you’ll just join him without needing to be asked. Having you there helps him sleep better, you act as both a silencer for the voices and someone to hold close when he’s at his most vulnerable.

When sleeping in bed together, he prefers to pull you close and curl around you in a half pulled fetus position. He’s usually a heavy sleeper, and actively clings on to you when asleep. It's an impressive feat if you can break free from his strong arms while they’re wrapped around your middle, and you leaving inevitably wakes him up. He’ll go searching for you then, barely awake, just to pull you back to bed to be his teddy bear again.

And speaking of the voices, while generally they’re loud and insistent, occupying his mind more than he does at times, their reaction to you baffles him so much. In place of the usual screaming is gentle mumbling, quiet whispers about how nice you look today or how pink and soft your cheeks look. It’s a welcome relief, and no matter how he hard he ignores the fact that he’s wrapped around your finger, he’s glad to know they care for you as much as he does.

He also smells pretty nice, it’s this natural musk he has mixed with a muted minty scent. The mint smell comes from this fancy soap Phil had gotten him a while back that he hadn’t given much thought about until you said something. Techno’s already a clean kind of guy, but after hearing your praises of his smell he almost begs Phil to get him more.

Snores, but in a quiet reserved way. Sometimes he makes soft cute noises, like little happy sounds when you snuggle into him more, or bashful grumbles when you kiss him before bed.

(Sunlight flickers through the blinds of Techno’s room, streaking across your face and waking you from sleep. Sighing quietly, you lift your head a little and stretch as best you can while being held in place at his side, before snuggling back into your spot, fully content to stay there for the rest of the morning. 

As you enjoy the moment, you savor the gentle snores that rumble in his chest, his strong heart thumping beneath your ear, and the way his hand kneads your hip as he wakes. 

‘It’s a good morning to sleep in.’ Your mind says quietly, and with how he rolls over to face you and kiss your forehead, it seems Techno thinks so too.)

Wilbur:

The way Wilbur sleeps really depends on what Wilbur it is.

To start off though, a few general things. He’s a neat sleeper, doesn’t snore, doesn’t move a whole lot, and smells pretty nice too. His smell also came from a fancy soap he got from Phil, but it smelled like sugar and lemons and it was a lot heavier than Techno’s. He would always take showers before bed because he knew you liked how it smelled, and often he would offered to share it with you (so that you would smell like him). Once he was exiled, he didn’t have the liberty of bathing as frequently as he used to, and he stopped using the fancy soap because he thought it felt tainted. He’d end up smelling like stale air and gunpowder, though he’d never tell you what the smell was from.

With sleep, if it’s pre-Pogtopia Wilbur, you get a fairly standard sleeping arrangement of him crawling up into between your legs to flop down on your stomach with a sigh, waiting impatiently for you to get comfortable and curl around him like you usually do. Your hand comes to cradle his head closer to your chest and he nuzzles into your collarbone before falling asleep near immediately. The two of you wake up tangled completely together and immensely comfortable. Wilbur used to sleep in on days like that, quietly savoring the peace that came with you and your generous hands that would slowly brush through his sleep-messed hair. Even after the election, when he starts descending into madness, the memories serve as a final comfort to him.

Post-Pogtopia Wilbur (Vilbur, if you will) is a stark contrast to his old self. He’s more bitter, more reserved, and even more paranoid. He doesn’t sleep with you anymore, at least never consistently, and the only times he does is when he’s so emotionally fraught that he passes out from the stress and lack of sleep midway through you trying to calm him down. You usually end up just kind of holding him close, praying that when he wakes up you can settle him before he works himself up again. You fall asleep like that, tired and restless.

(He rouses from sleep a few hours later, curled up in your arms and still exhausted from the breakdown. Your chest rises and falls slowly behind him, face smushed into his hair and completely relaxed. 

For a moment, all is calm again. He can pretend that it’s just how it used to be before the election had happened, that the two of you are back at home, happy and stable. 

His hands tremble when they reach for yours, and he grants himself the freedom to cry while you’re still sleeping, ignoring the fact that the next day will be just like the last, and that nothing has changed.)

See you next time :D

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

🥺 babe 🥺 bAbE

What if Jask gets sick at Kaer Morhen but tries to hide it from Geralt bc he doesn't want him to think he's gross/weak/etc? And Geralt has the Feelings Braincell for once?

oh babe... thank you

tw: sickness, falling unconscious, fever, whump/angst with a happy ending

---

Jaskier knew he had a fever the moment he woke up. He could feel it burning beneath this skin like a forge, flushing his face a more vibrant shade of pink than usual. He glared at his reflection in the small, round mirror above his dressing table and willed himself to feel better. It was his first winter at Kaer Morhen, and he didn’t want Geralt to think he’d made a mistake by inviting Jaskier along to stay. The bard knew that his stoic, self-loathing Witcher would blame himself immediately for any misfortune or illness that befell Jaskier. Geralt might even reconsider inviting him back again someday. So he had to keep his little bug a secret until he was well. Surely it was nothing major. Surely it would pass after a few days, unnoticed and unremarkable.

He should have known better.

Jaskier dabbed a bit more perfume than usual (which was generally none at all) beneath his ears and along his wrists. He hoped the peony-lavender mixture would mask whatever kind of scent his illness might carry and slowly, carefully made his way down the long stone staircase that led from the guest bedroom to the enormous kitchen. His limbs felt achy and tired, even though he’d slept heavily the night previous. His head sat heavy and unbalanced atop his shoulders; the world wavered and spun around him as he desperately tried to keep from pitching sideways into the wall. 

“You alright there, boy?” Vesemir asked, catching his eye from the bottom of the stairs. “You seem a bit… nervous.”

Maybe his anxiety was doing a better job of hiding his secret than the perfume. 

“Just a little wool between my ears this morning,” the bard laughed brightly, ignoring the searing pain that throbbed through his chest with the movement, “I think I might go chop some wood and see if the brisk mountain air helps clear it out faster.”

“Hmm,” the eldest Wolf nodded sagely. There was no doubt which teacher Geralt had admired most as a pup. “Alright. Be safe, take care. I’ll send someone to fetch you when breakfast is ready.”

“Thank you, Vesemir,” Jaskier bowed shallowly and headed for the kitchen’s back door. He took the axe into his hands and tried not to sway on his feet from the added weight. The bard covered his tracks by throwing a smile back over his shoulder and pushing the door open. “See you for breakfast!”

He stepped out of the keep and let the heavy slab of wood slam shut behind him. The early morning sky above Kaer Morhen was cloudless and the sun was bright, blinding him entirely. His situation only worsened when the sudden change in temperature, from the warm kitchen to the freezing mountainside, punched the air from his lungs in one thick cloud. He struggled to regain it as he wove his way through the snow drifts to the woodpile. Slowly, and with great effort, Jaskier lined up a thick log to be split.

The world felt watery and far away. His hand, which he knew to be attached to the end of his arm by some miracle, would not obey his command to pick up the axe again. His lungs felt heavy in his chest cavity and his legs suddenly ached with a fierce intensity. 

With a quiet cry of protest against his own body failing him, Jaskier collapsed into the snow.

---

Jaskier’s heartbeat was so slow and quiet, his limbs unmoving and his lips nearly blue from the cold; Geralt wasn’t sure he’d ever been so scared before in his life. He turned to Vesemir and asked, barely keeping the frantic terror from clawing its way out of his throat: “How long was he out there?” 

“Half an hour at most,” the grey Wolf shrugged. “I don’t really remember, Geralt. I was busy taking care of the breakfast arrangements.”

“Fuck!”

“Calm down,” Eskel ordered. He frowned at Geralt from his place at Jaskier’s opposite side. He’d helped carry the bard from the courtyard to Geralt’s room and was just as worried about the human’s wellbeing. “Panicking won’t help him. Now, what’s the problem?”

“It’s hard to tell over all that stupid perfume,” Lambert snarled. “Stupid fucking bard fucking knew we would be able to smell it on him. He covered his gods-damned tracks.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt murmured, having grown suddenly calm. He let the back of his knuckles drag softly across the bard’s too-hot cheek until he could stick a stray lock of sweaty brown hair back behind his ear. “You idiot.”

The bard shifted against the blanket they’d laid him on, his brow wrinkling. His arms twitched slightly, as if he was trying to move them, and he whined plaintively: “G’ralt.”

“I’m here, Jask,” the Witcher replied quickly, forgetting they weren’t alone in the room. He took one of the bard’s freezing hands into his own and began rubbing the warmth back into his fingers. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you better. You’ll be alright.”

“Who are you trying to reassure?” Lambert huffed a short laugh. “You or the bard?”

“Leave off,” Eskel shot his younger brother a glare. The redhead rolled his eyes and moved to lean against the wall near the door. Eskel continued speaking to Lambert, but his eyes were back on Jaskier, who kept trying to get closer to Geralt even in his sleep. “Why don’t you go grab some clean clothes from his room while we get him warmed up and conscious again.”

“Fine,” Lambert spat. But he took off at a quick trot, regardless.

“Geralt, get his wet clothes off and get him wrapped up. Eskel, you come with me to the kitchen. I’ll need help carrying things and I’m sure the bard would prefer some privacy in this particular matter.”

Eskel nodded his agreement and followed Vesemir from the room, leaving Geralt alone with Jaskier. The White Wolf hurried to undress and swaddle the bard with a warm, heavy wool blanket and several furs, talking all the while in a low, worried voice. “Fuck, Jaskier. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry this happened and that you- Why did you hide it? Why wouldn’t you- Are you afraid of me? Is that why you didn’t come to me for help?”

Jaskier’s lids fluttered open and Geralt watched with nervous anticipation as two of the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen, blue as cornflowers and brighter than the spring sky, tried their best to focus on his face. “Geralt?”

“I’m here, Jaskier. What’s ailing you? Please, tell me how I can help you.”

“Hurts,” the bard managed to groan. “To breathe.”

“Fuck,” Geralt growled. “We need to get you warm. Lambert should be back with your clothes by now.”

Jaskier’s head lolled back against the pillow and he struggled to reach for his Witcher, “Hold me.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll warm up-” he gasped between words, as if every syllable pained him to expel “-faster if… you hold me.”

“Hmm,” Geralt’s brows furrowed in frustration. He knew Jaskier was right, that he’d feel better faster with skin-on-skin contact, but he also wanted to hold Jaskier for other, less emergency-based reasons. That was unacceptable. Losing Jaskier to death or sickness or other human reasons was intolerable but losing him, in all senses of the word, because of Geralt’s impossible feelings? That would be truly horrendous.

The warring factions of his heart were still clamoring over a decision when Eskel and Vesemir re-entered carrying two large trays. One was covered with foodstuffs and the other held an enormous clay teapot and mugs. A small pot of honey, gathered from Vesemir’s very own beehives, was the most obvious sign of affection Geralt had ever seen the older man display for a near-stranger. 

“I’m gonna… get… spoiled,” Jaskier gasped. The eldest Wolf shot Geralt a glare. 

“Why aren’t you in there with him? You know the best way to warm up a hypothermic person is skin contact, Geralt! I certainly taught you better than this.”

“I didn’t-” he stuttered. “I wasn’t-”

“He’s afraid,” Jaskier smiled sadly, cuddling himself deeper into the furs as he turned his gaze towards the fire. All three of the Witchers could smell his sadness, even more potent than the illness ravaging his delicate human body. Geralt winced when his brother and father glared at him in tandem, expressions nearly matching in fury. The bard was still looking away, watching the flames send dancing patterns of light against the stone walls. “Don’t worry… won’t ask… for any more.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt whispered, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress. “May I hold you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s our cue to leave,” Vesemir smiled beneath his mustache. Jaskier was too tired to blush, and opted to bury his head in Geralt’s shoulder instead. “Come along, Eskel. Let’s see what Lambert has gotten up to.”

“What about Jaskier’s clothes?”

“He can borrow Geralt’s for now. I’m sure our White Wolf won’t mind sharing; he’s the possessive type, after all.”

Geralt rolled his eyes and grumbled out of habit more than disagreement. 

When Vesemir and Eskel had gone for good and the door was closed, Geralt pulled Jaskier out of the furs and removed his own shirt. He settled the bard against his chest and buried his nose in Jaskier’s dark hair, breathing in the scents of sweat and sickness and now, thank the gods, tangy-bright happiness. “Gods, Jaskier. Don’t scare me like that ever again. I can’t lose you.”

“I didn’t… want… to disappoint.”

“You never do and never will,” Geralt intoned. He pulled the furs over them both and splayed his large hands across Jaskier’s back. The bard’s skin was overly hot in some places and freezing in others; Geralt buried his panic in order to care for... for the man he loved. He took a deep breath and rubbed slow circles between the bard’s shoulder blades. “I… I love you, Jaskier.”

“Hmm,” the bard hummed tunelessly. “Love you… too.”

Geralt helped him sit up and drink a mug of tea. He listened, slowly allowing himself to relax, as Jaskier’s breathing eased and his heartbeat balanced. When the tea was gone and the fire was re-built to Geralt’s satisfaction, the Witcher tucked Jaskier’s head beneath his chin and wrapped his arms around the bard’s shoulders. “Oh, my little lark. I’ve been so foolish for too long.”

“Yeah,” Jaskier grinned into the Witcher’s warm pectoral. “Me... too.”

“Well, we’ll have plenty of time when you feel better,” Geralt murmured, lips pressing over and over to the top of the bard’s head. Jaskier couldn’t keep himself from smiling, even as he drifted back to sleep. The Witcher felt something settle in his chest when he whispered: “Rest up, dear heart. There are many more adventures to be had.”