#like everyones so uppity good lord

[todayisafridaynight]

I think the part that annoys me the most about people complaining about Mine still being alive is that people are reacting as if the revived characters in 7 had major plot important roles??? Kashiwagi does a lot, but even then. You can argue back and forth over whether or not it diminishes character deaths, but don’t sit there and act as if the ones brought back are right there on Ichiban’s party and having new stories about them. It’s pretty obnoxious, honestly. The QRTs of the Tweet are either fans shouting in glee or acting like everything is over.

i personally think RGG should just pull a kingdom hearts 3 and bring back every dead bitch ever just for laughs

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Tell Me

Past =-= Next

Author's note: Karlsor's next part in Husbandry

Summary: Since he's Chaos Aligned (he'd like to argue that's grox-shit) and Not Very Chaos Twisted/mutated, he gets the dubious pleasure of being in Public Relations. (Since when do they have/need Public relations?!) Karlsor would like a refund. This is a shitty duty shift and he hates it a lot.

Warnings: Swearing. Let me know if I need to add anything.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams,

Tagged continued: @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k, @ms--lobotomy @bispecsual @thevoidscreams

Tagged continued: @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

After following after the totally-not-scary Death Guard Apothecary Hura, and getting more explanations from his fellow Night Lords about Everything. And how Hura wasn't blowing smoke up his ass, that they really are on Ancient Terra, the information starts to sink in.

Much to his dismay, he has to be checked over by an Apothecary, and isn't it oh so convenient that Hura is right there to assess his health and what he might need. He begrudgingly allows the smug fucker to tend to him. He's given a relatively clean bill of health, which is fan-fucking-tastic.

He's sent off to the training salles to see what he's good at and other sorts of boring as testing to see where he'd fit in with the others on base for duty shifts and what not. New Postings, especially ones where your file isn't there for the Command to read, or has your current Command with you is such a pain in the fucking ass.

Some of these Chaos Fuckers are really fucking ugly to look at. And sometimes staring at some of the truly twisted one's hurts is brain, and he does his best not to look at them too much. To his greatest displeasure, he's supposedly going to be one of the more "front facing" of the Chaos Astartes in this base.

When he demanded why he had to do such an Ultramarine Fucker Job, it was said that since he lacked Chaos Mutations, among other things. He pointed out sourly that he's a fucking Night Lord and he's not an Officer, nor does he particularly care about being nicey-nice. He's not trained for it and he doesn't want to do such a shitty as job.

He Challenges the fuckers and loses. So, he has to do the shitty ass grox-shit ultramarine job of "public relations". Throne above! It makes his skin break out into hives as he scowls and stomps after the other poor bastards that were suckered into this job. He doesn't care to listen to what the Ultramarines, and other uppity fuckers say about some thing or other.

God, he hates briefing meetings. They drone on, and on, and on. Or they got interesting when Father went bug-fuck nuts and started killing people. Or one of the High Raptor Lords got stabby and then everyone was every man for themselves and trying Not To Die from The Command going bug-fuck nuts.

He rubs his face and groans a little. He's got the Curse of the Eighth quite strongly. Psyker... and trained at that. With wretched Future Sight which only ever showed him the most miserable and fucked up shit that made sleeping so hard. The Ultramarines are droning on and on and fucking on. He didn't mean to close his eyes, but he had, he's listening, but the power point presentation with the bright fucking lights is hurting his dark-adapted eyes something fierce.

He's got a fucking migraine that makes light feel like poisons and acid that drip into his eyes and across his skin. Sinking in like fire burning a corpse. He punches the asshole that jabs his side as he hisses at his fellow 'chaos' astartes that he's not asleep, he's listening to the fucker talk about some-random-grox shit that he doesn't particularly care about.

If it was truly important his Sight would be screeching at him about the danger levels. He does like that his Sight has gone mostly quiet and still. He's been able to sleep a lot better... sort of. He doesn't trust any of the fuckers in the base worth a damn, but even with how limited sleep an Astartes need, they do still need sleep.

He'd never thought he'd have to do public relations because 1) He's a fucking Night Lord. 2) He's 'pretty'. Which makes him cackle. No, he's no Blood Angel or Emperor's child. He's a survivor of Nostramo, and he's got the looks to prove it. Sickly pale skin, night dark eyes, and greasy-looking black hair that he keeps short. Also, he's got scars from previous battles that go all over his body. A few on his face, scratching up his features to make him even scarier to most base lines.

And yet, despite all that and the fact that he's a trained Psyker of the Eighth legion (which means, he knows that they think he's bug-fuck nuts) he's to be one of the front facing dip shits because he needs less warp fuckery to make it so he's more Normal and Shinier compared to others in the base... Given what he's seen of them, he can't argue as much after he sees just how twisted or 'blessed' some of those nightmare-inducing shit heads are. He still tries to argue and bitch his way out of the shit duty shift. Not that the fuckers listen to him.

He remembers hearing of one of his fellow fuckers in the Eighth legion being tortured by getting stuck in a room with bright lights constantly. For days. Throne, that sounds like a really shitty way to torture someone, especially since it didn’t cause any, or much suffering for anyone else. His hands clench into fists and then he relaxes them a bit. He wishes he could put his helmet back on as that would help filter out the light. But nooo he had to show ‘trust’ or whatever fucking grox shit the others had said… Also because he was one of the few ass holes in the Chaos Base that could take of his helmet… and all of his armor.

He wonders what sort of fucked up shit happened that being fused to ones armor did. Sounded… Horrifying, yet also comforting? Armor is a part of you. It protects the squishy bits and is almost like a second skin. He cracks open one of his eyes a sliver and notices when some base line humans show up and start chittering at them and he mentally groans about how this meeting keeps continuing on until fucking eternity. The human pauses as the Ultramarine translate what they says. Fucking perfect, until the little human stops their speech, which is going to make this at least twice as long because translation makes things so much fucking slower.

One of the other humans approaches him, which has him turn and squint down at them, and give a razor sharp grin filled with teeth as he flexes his hands. The talk at him in that same language the other human was speaking and had slowly pulled out something in a box. Which has him growling a little at them. They freeze in their movements and the eyes of all of his cousins are on him as the human unfreezes with an insulting swiftness as they open the box and he sees astartes sized strange looking google things. They were tinted, they gestured at them and then up at him.

He scowls at the room and back down at the human, slowly grabbing the goggles he puts them on and tries not to collapse into a pile of relief. Almost wanting to cry at how much better he feels now that the dreaded, hateful, cruel light is now mostly blocked because of these tinted goggles. Humans calls it “Sun Goggles.”

“Thank you,” He says to them, he means it to. He is not going to give these back and will kill someone to keep them. Multiple even.

[adrianastrix]

The reason why I'm so adamant about separating "earning money from your work" from "capitalism" is, firstly, that capitalism spreads the lie that "money = capitalism, so capitalism exists since money was invented and will exist until money fades out", making it look way more universal and strong that it actually is (capitalism is actually a development from 18th century free market ideology meeting freaking colonialism, so it's very recent and has a very spotty past).

But what gets me is that this association of capitalism with money, salaries and trading makes it so every time an artist sees how screwed we all are by this system and denounces it, they lock themselves out of financial support. Everyone start to spew vitriol about how you shouldn't take money since you hate capitalism so much, like the two things are equivalent.

You know what kind of people think that someone asking for payment in exchange for a service is fundamentally greedy, it doesn't matter how reasonable the price is?

Slave. Owners.

They are the ones who think every service should be provided for people who HAVE to work for them whenever they want, however degrading it might be, and for NO PAY WHATSOEVER. And that providing those workers with the bare minimum food and shelter instead of letting them die and buying new slaves is charity.

In every non-slave society, it IS expected that goods and services will be traded for fair rates. Criticizing capitalism has nothing to do with buy or selling things, it has nothing to do with believing that money, or trading, or advertising shouldn't exist. It has to do with criticizing a system that treat workers like uppity slaves that should be happy that they get a ridiculously low salary for brutal hours of work and aren't legally bound 24/7 to the whims of their employer anymore. What more should they want??? After all, if they get more money and free time they will blow it all in drugs and depravities anyway. Hey, y'all, are we sure those people shouldn't be legally bound 24/7 to the whims of their employer? For their own good?

So, by all means. Charge whatever you want to charge (or DON'T charge if you don't want to), buy iPhones, advertize like crazy and criticize capitalism at every single corner. The only ones who are hypocrites when they criticize capitalism are the capitalist themselves.

(And "capitalists" aren't all bosses. Capitalists are bosses who don't have to work. They make their whole living from the profits of other people's work (i.e., the capital). They are people who live from the interest the bank pays for their inheritance money, or from the rent paid by their 5 or more tennants, or from loaning some money to a company - "investing" on it - on a non-limited interest rate, siphoning that company's profits like crazy without ever lifting a finger to make it better. Sometimes, actively making it worse by imposing ridiculous conditions for their loan... *cough* investment. What, you thought interest in investments come from thin air, like magic? It's thinly disguised loan-sharking, my guys.

Your boss that will be broken in the streets if their bakery/youtube channel/print service fails isn't a capitalist, they are just a commoner providing goods and services like you, and they are in for a rude awakening if they think they can get away with acting like the local lord on the long run.)

[thessalian]

Molly!Rook vs Minor Side Trips

The Hall of Valour

Taash: Didn't figure you for wanting to be here.

Molly!Rook: I could use the workout and the challenge. And you could make more of a name for yourself with the Lords here. Keeps 'em from betting against you winning against a god or three.

Taash: Huh. Cool.

Lucanis: But why am I here? This feels more like something Davrin would enjoy.

Rowan: Hello, Spirit of Determination.

Lucanis: ...waitwut.

Isabela: And new challengers, Rook, Taash, and Lucanis with a Spirit of Determination riding shotgun! This should be fun!

Lucanis: ...What is happening right now?!?

Molly!Rook: A lot of demons are just spirits twisted a bit out of true. I figure if people see what Spite is, and what he used to be, he could ... twist back the other way.

Taash: Did you do this on purpose?

Molly!Rook: You were the one who told me about the Rivaini seers and their relationships with spirits, and I remember Varric's stories about Vengeance, who used to be Justice. So ... kinda, yeah.

Taash: ...You are devious as shit.

Lucanis: Perhaps you could help me fight darkspawn now?

Molly!Rook; Taash: 'Kay. *Weakness detonation-combo on the big one*

Wandering around the Surreal Estate, specifically the Workshop

Bellara: Rook! Hi! You're here! Please help me talk to this thing!

Nadas Dirthalen: It is not my fault you ask weak pitiful questions.

Molly!Rook: Try being an asshole back to it.

Bellara: Iiiiiiiiiiiiii'm not really good at that.

Nadas Dirthalen: No one is as good at anything as my creator! His benificence and glory are--

Molly!Rook: Hey! Fanboy! Give us a name for this guy you're jerking off right now.

Nadas Dirthalen: The great Lord Anaris, whose wisdom and intellect are--

Molly!Rook: Enough. Tell us about Fen'harel.

Nadas Dirthalen: He is an insect, beneath notice compared to--

Molly!Rook: We get it; we get it. So ... this thing was made by one of the Forgotten Ones - one who makes Solas look like a shining hero of legend, from the sound. Hey, Fanboy! Tell us about the evanuris.

Nadas Dirthalen: They would be crushed but for their cowardice in hiding behind ... "superior numbers" and "powerful magics"--

Bellara: I can hear the quotes around those; how can I hear the quotes around those?

Nadas Dirthalen: I cannot say.

Molly!Rook: Welp, I've given you all the advice I can. Don't ask; demand. Nothing that ends with a question mark.

Bellara: Any other advice?

Molly!Rook: Have fun?

Bellara: Being rude isn't my idea of fun, Rook.

Molly!Rook: Okay, okay. Real advice? Don't go around treating everything the fanboy over here says as entirely true. He's a propaganda machine.

Bellara: ...I ... can't believe that Cyrian died over ... over...

Molly!Rook: A overly ambitious valet who everyone suspects sniffs his master's unwashed smalls when no one's looking?

Bellara: Not a mental image I needed; thanks, Rook.

Molly!Rook: There is method to my madness. If he starts getting too uppity to bear, imagining him with a pair of smalls over his face should probably get you through it.

Bellara: ...*helpless laughter*

Molly!Rook: My work here is done.

And over to the kitchens, where...

Taash: Why do you dress girly like that?

Neve: I ... like it?

Molly!Rook: Does she have to have a reason?

Taash: ......

Molly!Rook: But you would have to have a reason.

Taash: ...............I'd look stupid in a dress anyway.

Molly!Rook: Only because you don't think you can pull it off, and you think dresses are only for people with dainty physiques.

Taash: Don't you mean women with dainty physiques?

Molly!Rook: I said what I said.

Neve: This is a conversation you two need to have, I think.

Molly!Rook: *quietly* I know you'll be listening at the door--

Neve: Rook!

Molly!Rook: Ten gold says I'm right.

Neve: .........

Molly!Rook: I want you to anyway. If this goes down how I think it will, put Maevaris and Tarquin on standby. I'm going to stick to the "You can do what you want, forever" line of conversation and let everyone else handle the "journey of self-discovery" crap.

Neve: Is that how it went for you?

Molly!Rook: Nah, but I didn't have a domineering mother either. Now go snoop; it's fine.

A fairly deep conversation later

Molly!Rook: If you want some time to think, I was just gonna check on Lucanis-- Whooooooo is not here.

Taash: He walks around sometimes, y'know.

Molly!Rook: Does he normally leave a full and still-hot cup of coffee?

Taash: ...Shit.

Molly!Rook: Grab Harding and go to the eluvian room. He can't have got far. I'll be there in a minute.

Taash: Why? You run pretty fast.

Molly!Rook: This time I won't be able to. Go!

And, as predicted

Spite: I want OUT. He PROMISED!

Taash: NO! BAD DEMON! STAY!

Harding: Oh, Rook; you're here! Great! Spite's in control and is trying to leave and--

Molly!Rook: I got this. *wafts coffee aroma in that general direction*

Spite: Oh you BIT--

Lucanis: ...waitwut.

Taash: Demon's back.

Harding: He tried to walk you out of here. Where, we have no idea.

Molly!Rook: Worse yet; he tried to make you leave without your coffee.

Lucanis: Ugh. I will handle this. Thank you, though.

Molly!Rook: No problem. Just ... I'll skip the innuendo about tying yourself down at night just this once.

Lucanis: ...appreciated...

[astoldbyaja]

The Blossom surrounded by Fire - Ch. 14 (Warrior AU- HBO MAX)

“You could leave, but it could be a very painful journey if you don’t know where to go. You could end up back in slavery.” she said. I looked away with a wince.

“But you don’t belong in a tong either. You’d be looked down upon and they wouldn’t see a reason to respect you because you don’t look like them.” She said flatly. I nodded.

“My thoughts exactly.” I replied. She leaned back a bit.

“But that may be exactly what you need right now.” she replied. I looked up at her stunned.

“What?” I asked and she nodded standing up and moving up to me, half her face done with makeup.

“Everyone starts out as an onion in our journey through life, but even in a world of madness and hatred, even you can make a name for yourself.” she said. I tilted my head in confusion. How was that possible?

“You are thinking with the mind of a duck when viewing your world, you should be thinking just like the rest of us. You are a rare gem in Chinatown. In the duck world you would be seen as uppity because you’re smart. But here, you would have a chance to grow and change some people’s view to fit your survival needs. You are the only African here, and with ears like those, you could be seen as good luck or bad luck, and your willingness to help those around you could get you in the good graces of the tong leaders. You’d grow from an onion to a healer of worth.” she explained. I never thought of it like that.

“But to pledge my loyalty to one tong and turn others away-”

“Is the price you may have to pay in order to stay alive. You have to put yourself first. You think if there was a riot going on and the ducks came crashing through here, destroying everything in their sight, that any Chinese help you? No. You have to secure your own legacy before that of anyone else’s.” she said. I winced and looked down at my empty cup. She was right. I cared about everyone except the main important person, myself. Chao can’t protect me forever nor could he put his business and legacy on hold for me. I would have to find my own way eventually, so why not now.

I nodded.

“You are right. I cannot hide from Zing forever, he will never honor the freelance work I do.” I replied. She nodded moving back over to her vanity and continued with her make up.

“So what will you do? Will you choose a tong or take your chance out in the world?” she asked. I scoffed.

“The world has only offered me pain and captivity. I want to do whatever it takes to stay free.” I replied. She nodded painting her lips with red lipstick.

“Don’t we all.” she said. After I returned to Chao’s shop, I remained in my bed. I just wanted to relax and not think of anything right now. And the world gave me that. I slept hard and when I awoke, I forced myself to stay busy. I was visited by some people on behalf of their ill family members. Thank the lord they were getting better but were out of herbs to kick the illness. I was discreet with giving them what they needed as to not interfere with Chao’s business. Within three days, I had my life back. I didn’t want to continue seeing people at Chao’s store, but when I offered to go back out, he talked me into staying put for a bit just to ensure Zing and his gang weren’t in the shadows somewhere. So to keep myself busy when I wasn’t helping others, I helped Chao integrate immigrants who came off the boat and into Chinatown.

I guess seeing a pretty woman with “elf ears” made them a bit mesmerized. I sat quietly next to Chao in his carriage as he explained the new life to a young man who was scrapping pretty well with some bullies off the boat.

“Yes, I think the Hop Wei would be perfect for you… they have a real sense of brotherhood.” he explained. I remained quiet as I listened, and the young man looked at me and I just gave a warm smile. I noticed he was admiring my black dress. It wasn’t wealthy by any standard, but standing beside Chao, he thought it was time I updated my wardrobe to match his status when standing with him.

We were in Hop Wei territory now and the carriage stopped a few feet from the familiar Hop Wei playing their usual game. Now I felt a slight pit in my stomach. I hadn’t seen any Hop Wei members since Chao came for me. I could see the familiar slick back of Bolo’s hair, the red of his vest.

Chao stepped out first before leaning in to take my hand. I smiled and took it, stepping out and following him to the tong members. Young Jun was the first to look up.

“Holy shit, it’s been a while since I saw your pretty face around here, Amaka!” he exclaimed as he stood up. Bolo turned to look, and his eyes seemed to widen at the sight of me and he leaned up some as if he were at attention. I just smiled and bowed to Young Jun.

“It has been a while. I hope you are well.” I replied softly and Young Jun smirked.

“Still itching to see if I can handle you, as usual. Oh, and nice to see you too, Chao.” he said with less enthusiasm before looking back at me as if shocked. “You cut your hair; I like it. Really makes your ears pop!”

He made a move to touch my hair and I just leaned back.

“Still not an animal you can touch when you want.” I said with a watchful gaze, but my smirk led him to believe I was being playful. He chuckled.

“Spend one night with me and you’ll be begging me to touch you.” He said with a purr. I found his attempt at charm a bit amusing, and I leaned into him some.

“Something tells me that if I spend a night with you, you’ll be aching for me to touch you long after I leave your bed.” I said lowly. I could see the sheer excitement grow in his eyes, and the agony growing in Bolo’s so I leaned back.

“Whooo hooo, Chao, when are you gonna give the go ahead for this sticky here!” he asked looking at Chao who just smirked.

“When I know you can handle the addiction that comes with her… but I have someone for you to meet.” he said motioning toward the carriage. The man off the boat was still there, looking all around. He looked so out of place. Young Jun smirked.

“Don’t bother waving him over, I’ll walk to him. You and I have some business to talk about anyways.” he said. Chao nodded looking at me and motioning for me to stay here. One Hop Wei followed Yung Jun and Chao over to the carriage leaving me beside the rest. Bolo was standing there just looking down at me, and I just felt that knot inside me tighten.

“Hello, Bolo.” I replied. He cleared his throat and placed his smoke between his lips before now standing straight up and looking forward.

“Amaka.” he said trying to remain professional. I just nodded and kept my hands together as I watched Chao and Young Jun at the carriage. I could only make out some of what they were saying.

“That’s a pretty dress.” he said stoically. I gave the smallest of smiles.

“Thank you.” I replied and now it was quiet between us.

“Heard you got into some trouble with the Fung Hai.” he said.

I nodded.

“All a misunderstanding. Chao had some issues with Zing, and to keep the peace, I offered my services to his men with some wounds is all.” I replied.

“You were gone for a while…” he noted.

“The cost of doing business with a tong.” I said lowly and now we were quiet for a moment. I noticed he stepped a bit closer, his shoulder edging toward mine and I just looked down.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked lowly. I looked up slowly. He didn't have to say his name for me to know who he meant.

“It’s nothing I haven’t experienced before. I made it out in one piece and shorter hair and that’s what matters.” I replied just watching Chao and Young Jun talk and shake hands. He finally looked my way and waved me over. Time to go. I turned to face Bolo and he just looked down at me.

“Meet me at the brothel tonight?” he asked. I wasn’t expecting that.

“Is that that the only place you can stand to talk to me at?” I asked. He looked insulted by my words and looked around before leaning toward me.

“I came to Chao’s shop looking for you, but you were handling business with the Fung Hai.” he said. I winced and nodded.

“I will try to be there.” I replied and quickly turned to walk toward the carriage. Young Jun was walking past me, with the man off the boat behind him, when he smirked at me.

“Until we meet again, sweet Amaka.” he said. I smiled and bowed.

“Until next time, Young Jun.” I replied and moved over to the carriage. Chao helped me on and once settled the carriage took off.

“Well one thing’s for certain, and two things for sure, that hatchet man missed you.” he said looking out into the town. I didn’t say anything at first, just looked down smiling some.

“I missed him, and I missed you.” I replied. Chao looked at me with a smile patting the top of my leg.

“Have you thought about what we discussed, about you joining a tong?” he asked. I nodded.

“Yes, but it’s not like I should just go approach both leaders and ask to be their healers.” I replied.

“Well you may not have to. Young Jun has informed me that his father has taken a special interest in you with your healing abilities. He will be calling soon to speak with you to see if you are worthy enough to be his personal healer, and the healer to the tong.” he replied. I nodded slowly drinking in his words, then remembered he had spoken with Mai Ling about the same thing.

“And Long Zii?” I asked, and he nodded.

“I haven’t heard back yet, but Mai Ling liked the idea of having you in her home. I think she just needs more friends.” he said, and I held back my laughter now at his words. I didn’t know the woman and did not want to judge.

“So now I just need to decide between the Hop Wei or Long Zii.” I replied and he nodded before his smile fell some.

“You don’t need me to tell you what happens if you pledge loyalty to one tong. That means you cannot help any other tong members or their families. You may be able to get away with helping the citizens of the town, but even that may be playing it close. When you choose a tong, although you will have protection you will also have a target on your back from rival tongs.” He explained. I nodded.

“And with the Hop Wei constantly fighting with the Long Zii, I will definitely be busy. If I choose Hop Wei, I’ll be able to be closer to you?” I asked and he nodded.

“Yes. But Hop Wei is dealing in opium meaning the heat from the bulls will be on them and you will have to deal with them as well.” he said, and I nodded looking down with slight worry.

“And if I choose the Long Zii, I would be further from you…” my words trailed off and he nodded.

"And you would not be allowed to see Bolo ever again.” he said. I winced and ran my fingers through my hair unused to the shortness still.

“It’s a lot to think about. But I know I have to do what’s safest for me.” I replied and he nodded in agreement.

“You do.” he said. I nodded and looked ahead feeling dread fill me some.

“Can we go to the brothel tonight? I think I just want to get lost in the touches of a man tonight.” I replied looking at him seriously and Chao nodded.

“I think after what you went through, you deserve whatever you want.” he said, and I smiled and took his hand and he gave me a warm smile before we both looked ahead and enjoyed the ride.

[weministertomonsters]

Seafood pt2 - the fish fry

Wilson was sitting on an old lawn chair soaking up the morning sun in front of his house when he heard someone call his name. His head jerked up, and he saw Claire Kristy hobbling his way, leaning heavily on her cane. He hoisted himself out of the chair and set his beer bottle down, walking over to help her.

She had moved into Sherry only a few months ago and he'd heard she was in her early thirties. If not for the walking cane she would have seemed younger. She dyed her hair an intriguing shade of purple-red and wore flowery blouses and tight jeans that did not help her walk, but did frame her legs quite nicely. Wilson was sure she was a wild one in bed.

"Young lady," he said in greeting and kissed the back of her hand.

She laughed and pretended to swat him.

"You're not that much older than me, you know," she snorted.

"I'd say fifty-six is a good chunk older," he replied.

"Then you look good for your age," she smiled, and Wilson felt a thrill of satisfaction in him.

Yeah, he still had the charm and the looks in him.

"Don't call me old," he said playfully, putting a hand on his chest in mock pain. "My bones will hear you. Anyway, how can I help you?"

"I heard the Inspector was in town, and I thought he might have come to see you first," Claire said.

Who the fuck did she hear that from? He wondered, and said aloud, "You heard that from Patty?"

"You know that old bird," Claire smiled softly. "In such a small town as ours, she has nothing better to do than spy and gossip and feed everyone her pumpkin soup."

Wilson snorted, then rubbed his beard and said, "It seems like you're settling in quite nicely despite the lack of activities for younger people like yourself."

"I can entertain myself just fine," Claire said, easing herself onto his lawn chair and, Lord Almighty, taking a swig from his bottle of beer.

"Besides," she continued, "I've always gotten along better with older people."

Wilson rubbed his beard again, wondering what to do about her flirting. Was it just harmless fun? He could see the very tops of her breasts, and it distracted him.

"I was asking about the Inspector," Claire piped up. "Did he come to see you?"

Wilson almost wanted to ask why she wanted to know, but he didn't want to insinuate anything so he shrugged and said,

"He came, but he had to rush off somewhere in a hurry. We didn't talk much."

"Did he ask about the nets?" Claire asked, her shining brown eyes concerned. "Fishing is at the heart of this community after all, and if the nets keep getting damaged it's just a nosedive from there,"

Wilson grunted in agreement because she wasn't wrong. Just about everyone fished. Too many damn people fished in Sherry. He felt a sort of perverse pleasure at their woes. He had gone years being teased for farming, well, it was their turn to have a share of bad luck.

"Anyway!" She said brightly, struggling to stand.

He helped her, feeling how soft and delicate her arm was.

"Thanks," she said once she was up. "I came here for a different reason, actually."

"And what might that be?" He asked.

"I'm cordially inviting you to the Redmund's Fish Fry this afternoon!"

Wilson let out an ungainly snort and regretted it when her face fell.

"Sorry," he said, "It's just that I have trouble picturing the Redmunds holding a fish fry of all things. They're the most uppity couple around here."

"It was my idea," Claire said, blushing. "Barely anything happens around here and I just think it's a shame, so I brought it up and the kids loved it."

"And Mrs. Redmund?" Wilson asked.

"She hated the idea at first, but she hardly gets to host any events at all, so she's excited at the idea."

"I see. Have you told anyone else yet?"

"I'm making my rounds," she said and looked at him with bright eyes.

"In that case, you'll see me there," Wilson said. "I can't bring any fish though, so how does corn sound?"

"Lovely," Claire said, turning to hobble down the path. "See you then!"

Wilson watched her go. He drank the last of his beer and licked his lips, once, twice. He could taste the slightest hint of fruity lip balm.

"Well, I'd best get my things together," he muttered. "And find some clean clothes."

He paused on the front steps and peered out at the river a couple of dozen feet away from the house. Could that thing come up on land? He doubted it; otherwise, he should have seen it far earlier than he had. He tromped into the house and the screen door swung shut behind him.

At noon Wilson walked there, figuring the distance wasn't too great. He regretted it by the time he got to the house because the sun cooked his skin and formed rings of sweat in his shirt.

The Redmunds were the richest couple in Sherry, and they had the house to show for it. The house had once been a barn, but they had ripped half of it down, renovated the rest, and put together their dream home of huge windows, a wraparound porch, and a giant limestone fireplace. The backyard was full of people, Wilson could tell from the cacophony of voices and screaming children.

He stepped up to the front door and rang the bell, even though the doors were wide open.

Mrs. Redmund appeared, in a red summer dress with a toddler on her hip. The child was clutching a bottle of milk which he held tipped against his mother's chest. A few drops had seeped into her dress, but she didn't seem to notice.

"Did you walk the entire way here?" She gasped. "Oh, Wilson. And at your age too!"

He ignored that and held up the basket.

"Corn," he said. "Roasted and buttered."

"Thank you, you can put it in the kitchen. Really, you didn't have to," Mrs. Redmund said.

"I figured we'd need something to go with all that fish," Wilson said over his shoulder.

He found the roomy kitchen and the counters were laden with salads and cakes and a lot of fish dishes. It looked like everyone had brought something; Wilson spied Patty's pumpkin soup simmering gently on the stove. He set his offering down and stepped into the backyard, squinting at the bright sunlight.

The adults were gathered in the shade of the backyard trees, talking. The men were huddled hat-to-hat around a fire pit they were preparing and the women sipped lemonade, patted their hairdos, and kept watchful eyes on the children running through the sprinklers.

"Hey, Wilson. Surprised to see you here," Jolly said.

He was sitting in a lawn chair in the biggest patch of shade, sucking on a beer. His leg was stretched out before him, and the half-one was bandaged neatly at the knee.

"How are you?" Wilson said, taking a beer from a nearby ice chest and opening it with his teeth.

"Hard ta say," Jolly said. "I miss fishing."

"You're better off away from the water, buddy," Wilson said. "Did you see what it was?"

"Ach, ya know, I was drunker than a moose that day. I have no idea anymore," Jolly said and burped. "Get me another beer, will you?"

Wilson acquiesced silently. He'd seen what was in the river and he was still thinking about whether he should alert the rest of the townsfolk. After all, who would believe him?

"Got a light, old man?" fifteen-year-old Joe Redmund said, wiping sweat from his sparsely bristled upper lip.

He had grown taller since Wilson last saw him but hadn’t filled out yet and if he stood in a cornfield and raised his arms, he'd look exactly like a scarecrow. Wilson fished the yellow lighter out of his pocket. He'd found it on the bank, gleaming like a chunk of sunlight in the mud that looked like it had been thrashed about. The Inspectors lighter.

"You can keep it," Wilson said to the teenager, "I don't smoke anymore."

"Look at me, Mama!" One of the little girls shrieked, pattering by the edge of the river.

"Annie, get out of there!" Her mother called. "Lord knows what's in that water!"

Annie ignored her mother, leaning down and scooping up a handful of mud, smearing it into her thin blonde strands and laughing. Her mother groaned.

"Stop that, Annie. Don't make me come and get you."

Annie bent for another handful, and screamed shrilly, flapping her hands as she ran up the bank as quickly as her little legs could carry her. A thrill of something like fear ran through Wilson.

"There's a monster," Annie wailed, clinging to her older brother's leg.

The boy reddened as he glanced at his friends and try to pry her away when they began to laugh and whisper. Joe Redmund was laughing the hardest of all.

"No, no, I'm safe here with you!" Annie said, grabbing his trousers and holding on tight.

"Mom," the boy groaned, sagging when he received no help from her. "Fine, I'll go and scare the monster away, okay? Just let me go."

Annie pouted and released him. The boy, egged on by his now cheering friends, pulled off his shirt and waded into the river. 

Wilson took a long drag from his beer.

When the boy went under, no one but Annie noticed. She screamed again, a thin animal sound.

"Danny!"

His head popped up, hair plastered to his grinning face.

"Scared you!" He said.

"Imagine playing games with your kid sister," a boy with acne scars said.

Danny disappeared under the surface again and Annie waited, ready to laugh this time. Danny bobbed slowly to the surface again, and Annie wasn't the only one who screamed.

─────────────── · · · · ✦

◀ previous part // next part ►

[pof203]

A Summoner Birthday

Special Quest: Aizen

I can't believe I let you talk me into this.

Aw, come on. It'll be fun.

Aizen: I hope for your sake, it is.

You invited Aizen to spend the day with you in the virtual fairytale world.

Lupin: So, where do you feel like going?

Aizen: Can't we just stay here? As too cute this place is, I don't want to go anyplace that may give you "funny" ideas.

Lupin: Well, Boogeyman says there's a sweet making station near here. What not there?

Aizen: Alright. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave.

Aizen: This doesn't look so bad. I wonder what kind of sweets they make here.

Lupin: Let's check it out.

Head Chef: We make a variety of sweets from eclairs to chocolate mousse. Feel free to make whatever you like.

Aizen: Well... I suppose we could make a strawberry shortcake.

Lupin: That's a good choice. Let's get go it.

You and Aizen begin to make a shortcake... But you both don't seem to be starting off well.

Aizen: Just add a bit more. That would make it bigger, enough to share with everyone.

Lupin: That would be a bad idea. We need to add the exact right amount, or the cake could turn out bad.

Aizen: I know. I said just a bit. I'm sure it won't make much a difference.

But it did.

Half way through baking, the cake burst, making a mess, covering you and Aizen in cake dough.

Aizen: Ugh! Okay, maybe you were right.

Lupin: You know I am.

Head Chef: We have someplace for you two to clean up next door.

Aizen: Alright. Let's go.

Aizen: I'm glad to see it's just a normal bathhouse. There's even a washing machine for our clothes.

Lupin: Good. I just realized I haven't don laundry in a while. Then again, I usually have Shiro to help me. Also then again, doing laundry here would be pointless since this is just a virtual world. Still, this is good.

You begin to remove your shirt when Aizen stops you.

Aizen: (sternly) First, some ground rules.

Lupin: What kind?

Aizen: First off... Don't even think about looking down a me.

Lupin: You mean, don't look there.

Aizen: Exactly. Two, keep your distance. And three, keep your hands to yourself. Got it?

Lupin: (saluting) Yes, Lord Capitan.

Aizen: (unimpressed) Very funny.

Later in the bath, you and Aizen were washing off.

This isn't quite bad. I should give Boogeyman and Kurogane some credit where it's due. The water here feels so great.

I know. They definitely know what they were doing. Oh, here. Let me scrub your back for you.

Aizan: (quickly moving away) You're already breaking the rules?!

Lupin: Yeesh! Still so uppity.

Aizen: ... (looking down) Sorry. It's just...

Lupin: Is something wrong, Aizen?

Aizen: It's just... I thought that I got over all this stuff during the campout. But I guess I'm still the ruthless disciplinary committee member I always was.

Lupin: Growing is a long process. It takes more than just a few days in the woods to help that.

Aizan: I know. I shouldn't try to rush it. I just need to take as much time as I need.

Lupin: You'll get there before you know it. You just need to be patient.

Aizan: ... (happy) I know. Thank you, Lupin. You're a good friend.

Lupin: You're welcome.

After you finished cleaning up, you return to the sweet-making station and made your cake the right way. After enjoying the cake, it was time to return home.

[crossdressingdeath]

I love Tahel's power-behind-the-throne angle. How does that go for him? Please, give me the hot Fereldan court gossip.

The thing is, it's both a secret and not. Everyone suspects that good King Alistair is really listening to the Warden-Commander whispering in his ear, especially when he starts acting in favour of mages and elves, but no one can prove it. When Tahel's sent to Amaranthine, everyone mutters that Alistair got sick of being on a leash. But also... Tahel is a fair and just ruler (occasional burning down of cities aside...) and a hero and has enough of the people's loyalty (and is powerful enough on his own) that if the bannorn tried to get rid of him things would get messy very fast, and aside from Maric's blood Alistair really doesn't have much going for him? Especially at first. So everyone's pretty happy to let Tahel and Anora handle the actual ruling. Once he's given Amaranthine Tahel mostly does his chancellor work from there, meaning Alistair is given more room to work on his own, but everyone knows that no matter how much he hates it he'll go running back to the Warden-Commander eventually. The situation does improve over time as Alistair comes into his own as a ruler and his and Tahel's relationship improves enough for there to be some level of trust between them, Tahel has enough faith in him to expect him to do the right thing, but also... at that point the trust between them is such that if the bannorn gets uppity about being asked to treat mages like people and the like Alistair will send a quick note to Amaranthine and the Lord Chancellor will return to Denerim to smooth everything over, so he's still the power behind the throne, just in the "diplomatic powerhouse" way rather than the "actively pushing for control" way.

Orlais does mock Alistair for it, of course. The king of the doglords on an elf mage's leash? It's simply too good. At least until the Lord Inquisitor Lavellan sticks Gaspard on a leash of his own and hands the other end over to Briala.

[xdragonsofavaloria]

The Great Hunt-Drabble

(I’m not really good at writing canon characters, and this is my first time writing anything in the GoT universe with my characters, so hopefully Petyr Baelish and Sansa sound/is written okay).

“Are you sure you want to host this hunt, Your Majesty?” Petyr Baelish asked as he and Cassie walked the old hunting forests near the castle. He was in hiding after he and Sansa left King’s Landing after the death of Joffrey Baratheon, and he wheedled in way into the Avalorian court, hoping that the Morrigantes family wasn’t like the Targaryens. So far, he was surprised by the fact that they haven’t shown any madness yet, though a a part of him was confused by the Queen not having anyone a husband. “Nearly everyone in the kingdom would be coming, and, well...” he paused, wondering if he should say this now instead of never. “Things might get a bit...hairy.” 

The Queen next to him nodded as she kept looking around, stopping every once in a while to listen to the birds and the wildlife. It was about time that the castle was full of the many families that come for a hunt, drink, and to have a good time. In fact, it was her own brother Alek that suggested it after coming through these lands. “And if these councilmen don’t like it, I’ll shove my axe up their uppity asses-” before his wife hushed him. 

“I’m quite positive that I want to host a hunt, Lord Baelish,” Cassiopeia answered, turning to him. “We haven’t hosted one in years, and the last time we did host one was when my father wanted to, and my brother Alek hosted one after he was married to Serine. If you’re worried about things being hairy, then I think you don’t need to show up...unless,” she said, taking a step towards him. “Some of these families that might make things ‘hairy’ might know you and would kill you for sport?” 

Damn, she’s good. 

Baelish bit his lip as thought of his answer before the Queen turned around and started to walk again. He ran to catch up to her, hoping to make her change her mind. “That is true-”

“And the Lady Alayne? Do the people I’ve invited coming here know her as well?’ she asked curiously. Cassie knew who Alayne really was-Sansa Stark-and she’d already pledged her allegiance to her anyway, but she wanted to hear it from Baelish’s mouth, since Sansa told her so many things about him. Already Cassie wanted to protect her from her and her enemies, and help her get back to Winterfell. 

Baelish lips curled up into a little grin when she asked about Sansa. A lie formed on his lips, to try and calm the dragon queen, to make sure she wasn’t suspicious about them. But none came to Littlefinger, and right then he felt cornered by a dragon who was very protective over little Sansa. “Yes,” he bit out. “They would know who the Lady Alayne is and would do anything to bring her back to King’s Landing.” 

“Not if she becomes my daughter.” 

“I’m...sorry, Your Majesty?” now he was confused. 

“Princess Alayne Samantha Morrigantes,” Cassie answered. “They won’t hurt her if I told them that she’s my daughter.” Of course, she talked all about this to Sansa the night before, and she agreed to it. And seeing the look on Baelish’s face, the ashen look on his face as soon as she said the name-and it was perfect, since Phoenix had already loved her as if she was his sister. “My son loves her already, and she seems happy here. You don’t want to take that away from her, don’t you?’

Baelish opened his mouth, trying to come up with something. But nothing came out of his mouth, and he felt like the rug was taken out from him. “No,” he answered simply. 

Cassie smiled as they kept going, finding the forest satisfactory to her-and making Petyr Baelish squirm was the highlight of her day. 

~*~*~*~*~*

“Did he agree?” Sansa asked that night when dinner was over, and she and Phoenix was in Cassie’s room, playing. “Did he say that I can pretend to be your daughter?’ She was holding her breath all day, hoping that she would no longer be under Baelish’s thumb. She quite liked being in Avaloria, she felt safe and happy. In fact, she’d never thought she’d laugh again after everything she’d went though. 

Cassie smiled at her and nodded. “We do need to christen you as the princess,” she said, not being able to finish that statement before Sansa hugged her. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she said with a smile, feeling like a weight has been lifted it from her shoulders. 

The Dragon Queen laughed as she stroked her new daughter’s head. Even if its for a little while, she at least had a daughter. When she opened her mouth to welcome her to the family, her son did it for her, running up and hugging her side, making her laugh. 

“So so so Lady Sansa’s gonna be my sister, mama?” he asked. “I gotta call her, call her Princess Ala, Alayne in public, right mama?”

She nodded laughing. “Of course you do. Only in private you call her Sansa, okay?’ Cassie told her, picking him up and kissing the both of them on the forehead. 

[1kook]

disney+ & bust

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb. It’s not. It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door.  warnings; arguments, feelings of insecurity, bit of asshole jk, smut in the forms of degradation, dumbification, choking, fingering, spit kink, self punishment, unprotected but [ passionate ] sex, jk losing his cool, return of mean jk, he is actually an emotional mess in this one wtf miscellaneous; ANGST, anniversaries, the L word😳, app developer kook, rip ‘pretty girl’ </3, we all become phineas and ferb stans word count; 13k !!

notes; me: *writes couple who’s whole arc is being silly* y’all: MAKE THEM SUFFER GIVE US ANGST!! u ask I deliver so now we all suffer 😐 ngl it was hard writing this fic n u might notice there’s some parts that seem weird n that’s bc this was TWO fics w diff wording but I ended up mixing them bc I’m insane. still had a lot of fun! felt like I challenged myself!! not proofread bc when I say we suffer we SUFFER

please let me know what you think!!! a simple ask goes a long way <3

previous part: kissanime & foreplay

Approximately one week after The Bullet Bestie’s rise to prominence, Jungkook grows annoyed with it as his weirdly competitive nature rears its ugly head the more and more orgasms that little vibrator coaxes out of you. It turns on a weird switch in him, something slightly stuck up and snooty that he’ll never admit to out loud but is there nonetheless. By the following Friday, The Bullet Bestie is nestled deep in your garbage can and Jungkook’s back to pleasuring you with his tongue and fingers alone.

He had those moments in him, the ones where he liked to think he was better than any and everyone else, and occasionally they manifested against inanimate objects like a bullet vibrator.

Despite his polite and generally soft exterior, you catch glimpses of that cocky spirit more than anyone else. Over the past year, you’ve come to realize that Jungkook’s personality was like a coin that had been left out in the sun too long. He had this sweet and reserved nature you saw most times, a kindhearted boyfriend who adored you almost as much as you adored him. He was your angel whom you knew had a heart of gold, even if you were slowly bringing out his more childish tendencies. You knew him like the back of your hand, knew what his mom’s favorite color was and how he liked to stack the plates in his cabinet according to size and make. It was a side that was rusted from years of being out in the sun, basking in its adoring warmth, and you loved every inch about it.

And still, there was this other side to him you rarely saw. This cocky asshole who hid beneath the soft smiles and careful hands, making his appearance only through sly smirks and a tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. He was a braggart, a man who knew his greatness yielded for no one and wanted that fact shoved down everyone’s faces. This Jungkook, this other side that never saw the light of day, was like the Hyde to his Jekyll. An unexpected, almost mean side to him that only dared make his appearance when his exhilaration was at an all-time high. Like when he was fucking you into another dimension, or kicking your ass in Mario Kart, or like now, when he was receiving an award at an annual tech ceremony.

On the eve of your one year anniversary, Jungkook’s company invites him to an awards ceremony for other web and app developers like him. It’s a grand event, filled with all the biggest nerds in the developing industry here to present the baby nerds with awards. Jungkook lies somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, both a seasoned player and a rookie all at once. He spends the night tolling you around in a floor-length gown and fangirling over all the “legends” in the room.

You know next to none of these people and none of their accomplishments but still pretend you respect them to hell and back. By the end of the main dinner, you’re sympathizing with Barbie’s ever-smiling features because your cheeks feel sore.

Towards the end of the night, Jungkook wins that random award— okay, who were you fooling? He wins the Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award, recognizing him for all the hard work you’ve seen him put in this past year. It’s probably the highest recognition he can receive at this point in his career. It was an esteemed award that was bestowed upon only the most innovative developer of the year among tech companies, something Jungkook had briefly mentioned he always wanted. It’s basically the equivalent of placing first place in his field, but given Jungkook’s competitive industry and his young age, you think it’s like telling all these old Facebook lords to suck his big fat cock. (But that was your job when you got home.)

He gives a short little thank you speech, promising to work hard and own up to this title. The people around you are swooning, obviously endeared with his soft puppy dog features and melodic voice. They don’t know him like you do, don’t know that uppity twist to his grin like you do. It doesn’t slip off his face even when he steps down off the stage, arms wide open as he comes barreling towards you. Even with you in his arms, the congratulations that are thrown from every direction ring loudly in his ears and swell that ego of his.

The night goes like that for the most part, Jungkook’s acquaintances approaching him every few minutes to rain down their praises. He goes a little crazy at the open bar after a while, shoving the gold trophy into your arms as his beloved work seniors whisk him off for drinks. You don’t mind because you resigned yourself to a night of playing Jungkook’s perfectly perfect partner anyway, watching him politely mingling with his coworkers. Despite his earlier success, you know he won’t brag about it verbally. No, he’ll wait until the two of you get home—your place or his—and remind you how amazing he is with a quick snap of his hips.

As you said, he’ll never boast aloud.

However, that doesn’t mean you won’t.

“That’s my boyfriend,” you explain to the seventh person that greets you that night, excitedly pointing to where said boyfriend was slowly losing all sense of self by the bar. You don’t know anyone here beside Jungkook, and you’re pretty sure no one in their hammered minds is going to remember who you are anyway, so a little gloating never hurt anyone. “He won the ‘I’m Better Than Everyone Else’ award tonight,” you emphasize to the tipsy woman beside you who only laughs at your exaggeration. You assume she’s like you, accompanying one of the many developers here, because as soon as you finish boasting about Jungkook she moves to brag about someone too.

Truth be told, you spend the whole night re-analyzing the Zootopia movie you saw on Disney+ the other night in your head. So if the little fox fellow didn’t control himself would the city have fallen to ruins? Why was the useless sheep girl so evil and bitter? Why was there an unreal amount of romantic tension between the fox and the rabbit? Whatever, you’ll have to rewatch it some other night, and with your new Disney+ account, you could watch it anywhere you wanted to.

Now, you had never bothered to purchase a Disney+ subscription or even tried to swindle Jungkook for his password before. As far as you know, Disney+ was filled with old tv shows from your childhood, sitcoms that made you laugh when you were ten. There’s nothing wrong with that, but personally, you were a firm believer that that which was perfect should not be touched once finished; in other words, you were utterly terrified you’d rewatch an old episode of The Wizards of Waverly Place, only to find out the same joke you’ve been regurgitating for the past ten years doesn’t actually go that way.

However, the harsh reality was that Disney+ was good for a few things. Ugh, you hate when giant corporations provide decent services. Aside from Zootopia, you’ve watched about every animated media on there as well, all of which you replay in your mind as Jungkook has the time of his life with these nerds, knocking back champagne glass after champagne glass.

Anyway, the night ends a little past midnight, and Jungkook who is buzzed on alcohol and high on exhilaration ends up calling an Uber for the two of you. Your apartment— the new one he had not only helped you hunt for but also helped you move into, greatly cutting the cost of movers out with those glistening biceps and thick thighs —is still going through her rebellious phase where the potted plants are trying to take over, courtesy of Kim Namjoon. So for now, there’s a potted plant in an awkward corner that both of you stub your toe against on your way to your bedroom.

You’re thinking Jungkook is going to go to town tonight, given the fact he’s on Cloud 9 and has had his ego stroked by a bunch of dudes for the past couple hours. Maybe you guys can try out the hot role-playing scenario you saw on GirlsWay a few weeks ago, or the handcuffs you impulsively bought from Amazon one Monday night. Or maybe, and this one really makes you flutter, he’ll let you fully take the reins for once.

All those lewd fantasies end up being for naught because just as you shimmy out of your gown (with the help of his hands, of course) and turn to climb him like a tree, he’s on the other side of the room getting your makeup remover out for you. And also talking. A lot. And way more than usual.

“Did you see him, babe?” he sighs, dare you to say, dreamily, handing you the cotton pads as he begins pulling a million pins out of your hair. Slowly and with a lot of confusion, you pull your fake lashes off and begin cleaning your face. “He was amazing.���

“Uh-huh,” you say, having absolutely no idea who ‘he’ is or why Jungkook is so in love with him and not you at this very moment. “But so were you,” you add. Perfect. Stroke his ego and then stroke his cock.

Jungkook sputters at your praise. He’s carefully placing your hairpins on your thigh, cheeks flaming red every time he leans over you. “Was I?” he murmurs, voice sweet in that cute little way it always gets when he’s downed one too many shots of whiskey, enough to be buzzed but not enough to be wasted.

You turn and the pins clatter to the floor and across the bedsheets. “Yes,” you confirm, ignoring his sad huff at the mess you’ve made. Instead, you grab him by the collar of that pink button-up he taunted you with all night. “You were fucking incredible and I think incredible men deserve to have their dick sucked.”

Jungkook laughs at your vulgar statement, holding you gently by the hips as you climb into his lap. “Is that so?” The soft, shy persona is gone now, replaced by the gentle stirring beneath his dress pants. You nod hurriedly, plopping down on his lap and running your hands through his styled hair.

“Yes,” you confirm, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Luckily for you, I know this nymphomaniac who would gladly gobble up your cock at your every command.”

He snorts just as you push him into his back, nose adorably scrunched up. “First of all, you know I hate that word,” he chuckles, finally gracing you with a sweet peck that only makes you want him to fuck you into the fifth dimension. “Secondly, please don’t ever say you’ll gobble my cock up ever again.”

Something inside of you squeals with excitement as he rolls the two of you over, firm body pressing down on yours. “Oh, baby,” you groan, lazily throwing a leg over his hip. Jungkook grins and then decides to entertain you for a few minutes with a sloppy kiss.

You say a few minutes because just as things are heating up, he pulls away. He smiles apologetically. “As much as I’d love to be here with you, I actually have an early morning tomorrow.”

You frown at the sudden change in events. “Huh? They’re gonna make you work the morning after a Gatsby party?” you gasp, sitting up as he gets off of you. With every step he takes away from the bed your heart breaks a little more. “They can’t do that— that’s illegal!”

From the doorway he levels you with a comically raised brow. “No, it’s not.”

You scamper after him down the hall, watch the muscles in his back flex as he pulls his suit jacket on. “You can’t work on our anniversary— that’s illegal!” you offer instead.

He stops at your front door, feet squeezed back into his shoes. “Baby, it’s not,” he rolls his eyes, leaning down to peck your forehead. “It was either I work in the morning or work at night,” he explains, giving your messy hair a soothing caress. He’s looking at you with those eyes, the ones that make your heart lodge itself into your throat and make life a tightrope experience. There’s a devastatingly lovesick part of you that wants this moment, this kind face, to be engraved into your mind for the rest of your life. You want this to be the first and last thought you have and nothing else: just Jungkook’s adoring gaze on you for the rest of time.

The moment ends too soon when he flutters one last peck against your lips. “I’ll be done in the afternoon, okay?”

You pout. “Okay, your place?” you huff, making sure to get one last octopus squeeze around his waist. He nods. “Promise you won’t be late?”

The corners of his gaze soften. “You know I won’t,” he smiles, leaning down to bump your noses together playfully. “Can’t stay away from my pretty girl too long. Besides, I have a gift for you tomorrow.”

It’s with that sentiment and a hammering heart that you let him go. With Jungkook gone, there’s really nothing for you to do now. You took the next two days off in preparation for your anniversary sex, so you don’t have to head to sleep early like usual.

With nothing else planned, you decide on rewatching that Zootopia movie that had plagued you all night, ready to dissect every plot hole to hell and back. You don’t think Jungkook’s seen this movie yet so you add it to your long list of animated movies you’re forcing him to watch.

Part of you is actually really surprised Jungkook left. Well, kinda sorta, very, but not really. Jungkook was a good boy, that much was obvious. He took his job seriously, and if his job wanted him to come in at the asscrack of dawn, then he’d come in before the sun even rose. He was a goody-two-shoes, but even so, you were occasionally able to bring out that darker side in him.

Jungkook working, like actually working in an office setting, was pretty rare though. The dude had a chill job that let him stay home most of the time, and essentially clock in whenever he wanted. Every now and then you were able to convince him to stay, tucking him beneath your body or the covers, depending on the night, and refusing to let him go the morning after.

Once he had eaten you out until the wee hours of the day, ravenous between your thighs, and then went to work the next morning like he hadn’t broken you. Another time you had persuaded him into watching every season of the 2017 DuckTales reboot through the night. When the alarm had rung in the middle of the season finale, he had simply gotten into your shower and gone off to work.

So maybe you were a little confident in your skills, and Jungkook slipping between your fingers tonight was a huge bummer. But there was no use crying over spilled milk, you tell yourself, flinging your bra off somewhere in the corner as you snuggle back into your sheets. You’re ready to tear this Zootopia movie apart, scene by scene.

Even though your apartment is a little cold, you’re comforted by the fact Jungkook will be here to keep you warm all day tomorrow.

All men do is lie.

Despite his promise to come home early the next day, Jungkook ends up lying. The meeting he had been in all morning— the same one that had stopped you from getting bent like a pretzel the night before —drags on well past noon. Then, Kim Namjoon, AKA Jungkook’s favorite senpai in the entire world, catches wind of Jungkook’s success last night and absolutely has to take him out to lunch to celebrate.

You scoff, glaring down at your phone and the impulsive messages you’d sent out an hour ago when Jungkook had first texted you telling you he would be late.

You whirl around to stomp off in the direction of his living room, where all of yours and Jungkook’s favorite foods were growing colder by the minute. You had spent the longest time carefully laying them out, making sure the fried chicken was closer than the pizza but not closer than the breadsticks. Truthfully it’s a nightmare. There are about eight stomach aches worth of food sitting on his coffee table, the greasy stench makes you gag and will certainly stick to your hair for weeks, but none of that mattered because it was all for your beau.

Your very late beau who was making you grow more and more agitated with each minute that passed. Ugh! How inconsiderate of him to test your patience on a day like this. You didn’t want to be upset with him, but this was your first, real milestone as a couple with him. You had wanted to spend the whole day cuddled up, maybe finally tell him how much he really meant to you— definitely not waking up alone with eyeliner crusted eyes and an aching heart.

Deciding you’re being a little too dramatic, you head into the bedroom to calm down. This was fine, you tell yourself, carefully laying out the damn near harlotrous lingerie you had yet to put on. Jungkook would come over soon and everything would be A-okay.

Except for the part it’s actually F-not okay because soon it’s nearing sunset and the food has gone cold so you’ve stocked it into the fridge, and the pretty sheer bra has a wonky wire that’s two seconds away from piercing through your heart, but that doesn’t even matter because Jungkook being late for your all-day anniversary celebration has already ripped it to shreds anyway.  

You plop down on the couch in defeat, impulsively opening up the Disney+ app to cry through another episode of Phineas and Ferb. You’ve abandoned the satin robe that came with the lingerie in favor of donning a big t-shirt that smells like him and makes your heart hurt even more. The setting sun paints the living room in muted oranges, the chirping of birds outside the soundtrack to your lonely day.

You end up watching some other cartoon on Disney+, avoiding the Marvel section because you had promised Jungkook he could be there when you lost your Marvel virginity. Well, at least one of you was good at keeping promises, you think bitterly. For a second, you think about randomly watching one of the infamous MCU films out of order just to spite him. But then you think of that soft puppy gaze and how disappointed he’d be in you.

Whatever! It wouldn’t ever match up to the way you felt now.

Anyway, you circle back. When you’re five episodes into Phineas and Ferb you hear the doorknob rattle.

You sit up just as the door swings open, visible from your spot on the couch. He meets your gaze almost immediately, big doe eyes caught in the act. What act? You’re not really sure. In fact, you don’t even know what you’re looking at when he walks in because he’s drowning in shopping bags. His lips twist into a grin. “Honey, I’m home,” he says playfully.

You don’t laugh.

Jungkook frowns, dumping all his bags down at the entrance before waddling over towards you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, coming to stand before you and cupping your face in his hands. He’s towering over you, so tall and gorgeous but for the first time, you’re not dazed by his beauty.

“Kook, you said you’d be back hours ago,” you say slowly, avoiding his gaze. You try to keep the frustration out of your voice, but you’ve had hours to dwell on it now, and those annoying cartoon characters, though charming at first, had only served to multiply your annoyance.  

Jungkook blinks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean… yeah. But I got you presents?” he beams, glancing back at the mountainous pile he made by the door. You look over too. There are some luxury bags squeezed in between other shops you like, the occasional jewelers' logo on the side.

You stand with a sigh, sauntering off into the kitchen with him on your tail. “I don’t want presents,” you mumble, reaching to pour yourself a glass of water. You’re briefly aware of how childish you must seem. Jungkook hovers behind you.

“What? Yes, you do,” he says. “You had an entire wishlist on my Amazon of things you wanted.” It’s his turn to level you with an unreadable expression, slowly crossing his arms over his chest.

Your frown only deepens as you turn to match his stance against the counter. While it may be true that you did indeed have an entire list of impulsive items on his Amazon, that didn’t necessarily mean you wanted them all. Sometimes you just wanted to stare longingly at a pair of satin gloves without actually buying them. You don’t know how to explain this much to him. “They’re not…” you stop with another deep breath. “Forget it. Thank you for the presents.”

Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to question you. “What,” he says in an unimpressed tone, padding over to you before you can escape back into the living room to watch the entire princess movie collection on Disney+. “No, tell me what’s wrong.”

For some reason, that’s exactly what you don’t want to hear. “Jungkook,” you say flatly, narrowing your eyes at him. “You come home six hours after you said you would without telling me why, and normally I wouldn’t care, but today was supposed to be a special day for us.”

Jungkook reels at your bluntness. “Babe, I was out getting stuff for you. I know it’s our anniversary— that’s why I wanted to treat you,” he responds, oddly condescendingly like you’re a child who doesn’t understand what exactly he was doing.

You brush his hands away from your shoulders. “Yeah,” you huff. “Now I know that. But I spent all day waiting for you,” you stress, chest puffing as you grow more and more agitated by his inability to understand you. God, can he let you go now? At least a bunch of animated, geometrically drawn cartoons won’t question you like this and make you feel as childish as he was.

When he doesn’t say anything else you stomp back into the living room, snatching up your phone from its forgotten spot against the couch. “I’m going to bed.”

At that Jungkook seems to kickstart back to life. “What? ___, it’s barely six,” he says as he follows after you into your bedroom. You ignore him, shuffling beneath the covers. In all actuality, you’re going to bed to mope and watch more animated family shows, maybe cry under the guise of the plot just being so sad. Jungkook sits beside you just as you click back on to finish off your episode. “Baby, I don’t get it,” he sighs. “You’re always talking about how much you want this or that, and I go out and get you it all but now you’re mad?”

You bite down on your lip, eyes lasered in on the pictures moving before you. “Jungkook, just forget it.”

“No,” he says, more sternly than he’s ever been with you before. “If there’s a problem, tell me.” There’s a heavy pause, and then he says, “don’t make me waste my time guessing what’s wrong, okay?” 

“Waste your time?” you scoff, sitting up with pinched brows that you find match his. “I’m not trying to waste anyone’s time— in fact, that’s hot coming from you, Jungkook.”

He rolls his eyes. “What are you even saying? You’re mad because I took a little long getting presents, for you, might I add,” he huffs, plopping down on the edge of the mattress beside your knee. “You’re always saying you want this and that, but you can’t handle me going out to get those things? Do you hear how weird you sound?”

You whip the covers off of you. “Me talking about things doesn’t always mean I want them,” you defend.

Jungkook snorts. “Yes, it does,” he says. “Anytime you ramble about stuff for minutes like a little kid it’s because you want me to buy it for you.”

You blink. “Like a little kid?” you repeat, stunned by his comparison. Granted, you always knew you were the more childish of the two, but you never thought that would equate Jungkook thinking of you as a child. Something red and nasty flares in your chest. “Well sorry,” you spit, crossing your arms over your chest defensively, “sorry we all can’t be perfectly mature golden boys who would never see the light of day if I constantly wasn’t dragging them out.” You know it’s a somewhat low blow, especially because Jungkook’s told you before how his introverted tendencies were a sensitive issue growing up, but you can’t help it.

Jungkook groans, dropping his head into his hands. “Baby, don’t do this now,” he warns, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Stop acting like this.”

“Like how?” you spit, “like a kid?” Jungkook says nothing, leveling you with a blank stare from the corner of his eye. You roll your eyes, phone falling off your lap. Another episode of Phineas and Ferb had started, the corny opening tune filling the space between the two of you. “At least now I know what you think of me,” you mutter over the guitar riff.

“Oh my god,” Jungkook blurts, sitting up wildly. “Of course I’m gonna think of you as a stupid little kid, look at you,” he seethes, gesturing at the phone beside you. You flinch. “All you do is watch kids shows and whine whenever I wanna watch anything normal adults watch. You complain every single day about the most normal things, like your job? Why should I fucking care that you’re working a dead-end office job in a field you didn’t even study for— that’s not my problem, __!” he snaps, eyes narrowed into little slits. “I just won an award last night,” he says suddenly, voice back to its regular volume. “I’m at the height of my career and I’m only going up, but I can’t even enjoy that because I have to come home and cater to you,” he finishes, a loud scoff punctuating the final word.

You had never imagined Jungkook finally bragging about himself would be at your expense.

A beat of silence passes, the angry glint in his eyes quickly fading away the longer you don’t say anything. You sniff once, turning your head idly to the side where Phineas and Ferb is still blaring loudly from your phone speaker. Picking up the device, you throw it across the room where it hits his closet door with a terrifying bang the breaks the silence.

The sound snaps Jungkook out of whatever shock he’d been in. “Baby…” he says slowly, carefully, like you’re a caged animal that’s just escaped the zoo.

“I’m going home,” you say, also a little too calmly. You saunter over towards his closet where your shattered phone screen glares up at you as you yank a pair of sweats off a hanger. Jungkook is still frozen on the edge of the bed, watching you with wide eyes as you move about the room.

It’s when you’re in the hallway leading downstairs that Jungkook finally snaps out of his daze, scampering behind you as you descend the stairs. “Baby,” he rushes out, loudly bounding down after you, “___, wait,” he gasps, catching you by the kitchen counter collecting your keys. “I-I didn't mean that,” he rushes out, eyes wide and frantic as they flicker over your expression. “I don’t think that—I don’t, baby, please, just… let me explain, please.”

“Jungkook, let go of me,” you respond, shaking your wrist in an attempt to release yourself. He’s not even holding you tightly— he never would—but the sound of your heart pounding in your ears makes your movements jerky and erratic. “I wanna go home.”

“No,” he chokes, cornering you against the counter. “No, baby, please just listen to me, I-I—“

“You what, Jungkook?” you snap, placing a hand on his chest and forcefully pushing him away. He lets you, stepping back with a wobbly bottom lip. “You need to tell me how you’re too good for me? How much I hold you down because I wasn’t lucky enough to get a job like yours straight out of college?” He says nothing, swallowing roughly as you jab a finger into his chest. “Well let me tell you something,” you snarl, chest heaving, “I may be childish and a huge complainer, but I’m not stupid enough to let someone walk all over me like this.”

With that, you make your great escape. Truthfully, you don’t want him to see the tears in your eyes as you yank his door open, stomping down his steps and in the direction of the nearest bus stop. The door opens right after you tug it shut, painting your shadow across the sidewalk. There’s the scrambled sound of house slippers against the concrete that follows you down. “Go the fuck back inside,” you snap without missing a beat.

Sensing your obvious anger, he pauses before he can reach you. “Text me when you get home?” he calls out quietly.

“No,” you respond.

You would never admit to anyone that you spend the entire night eating a tub of mint chocolate ice cream. It’s disgusting and makes you gag, but it’s the only one you have in your apartment. And of course, it was brought over by none other than Jeon Jungkook himself a few days ago. Even when you’re trying to comfort yourself over how mean he was, on your anniversary night no less, you’re plagued by thoughts of him everywhere.

As much as you want to brush his words off, put on that cool girl exterior you’ve maintained since high school, there’s something different about this situation. You guess it’s impossible to brush off such hateful words when they come from someone you love and adore so much.

Were you too childish? You had always believed that side of you was what made your relationship with Jungkook so perfect. The two of you meshed well because of your differences, like yin and yang. So how had he been able to so easily deconstruct every inch of that balance in a matter of a few seconds? Was this perfect reality all in your head this whole time?

You want to tell yourself it was just a heat of the moment outburst from Jungkook, give him the benefit of the doubt because he’s never snapped at you like this before. Of course you’ve fought a couple of times in the past year, but neither of you had ever stooped as low as you did yesterday. Furthermore, the insecure part of your brain says he obviously felt this somewhere in his heart to bring it up at all. What he had said to you wasn’t something someone could make up on the spot.

You don’t text him when you get home, partly to spite him, but mainly because you had left your phone at his place anyway. You know he tried calling you last night because the call log is synced up to your laptop. He called on and off for about thirty minutes before he probably found your phone in his room. Whatever, he can mope in his regret for all you care

—is what you wanna say, but the longer he goes without showing himself to you the more your insecurities and hurt fester. Was this it? Was this the end of what was probably the best year of your life? It’s too painful to think about, to even consider the possibility that Jungkook might have gained a new insight last night and decided, hey, maybe this is for the best after all.

You drown yourself in an ungodly amount of sugar for breakfast, your laptop blaring yet another episode of Phineas and Ferb on the dining table. Muscle memory has you making Jungkook’s favorite pancakes before you can stop yourself, and by the time you do realize, you’ve resigned yourself to the blueberry smell anyway.

There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb.

It’s not.

It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door. You open the door with a fright, jumping back when he slumps forward and almost crashes face-first into the floor. “You didn’t call,” Jungkook cries, leaning a little too much of his weight onto you when you reach out to steady him.

The thundering of your heart slows upon registering it’s him. “Kook?” you frown, nose pinched at the ungodly stench of alcohol wafting off his clothes. “Have you been drinking?” you ask even though the answer is staring you right in the face (and in the nose).

He groans, staggering deeper into your arms. You blindly push the door shut behind him, resigning yourself to this new situation while your pancakes grow cold in the other room. “Baaaby,” he slurs, letting you guide him into the living space. He’s unceremoniously dumped onto the couch, half-opened eyes gazing up at you. “Let me,” a hiccup, “explain.”

You won’t lie. There’s a very obvious sense of discomfort sitting in your chest, torn between two paths that you don’t wish to choose between. His skin is warm and flushed like he’s just walked all the way here in this morning sun. You step over to the window that faces down onto the street below. There’s no sign of his car; you would have killed him if he ever tried to drive in this state.

“Did you walk here?” you ask instead, deciding there’s no need for one singular path, not when you can walk straight down the middle, both cleaning him and grilling him at the same time.

Jungkook’s response is delayed, head lolling from side to side as you help him out of his sweater. His skin is sweaty beneath, scorching to the touch. “Uh-huh,” he groans. Jesus, you sort of assumed but him confirming it really set things into perspective.

By no means did you and Jungkook live on opposite ends of the earth. On a good day, a drive from your place to his took about ten minutes. But walking? Easily an hour. Had he walked all the way from his place, drunk on top of that?

You brush his hair away from his face, his eyes fluttering shut at your touch. His lips are pouty yet chapped, dehydrated from the sun and the alcohol he reeks of. “Sit up for me,” you instruct, scampering off to your room for chapstick and water.

“Anything for you,” Jungkook wheezes, throat probably dryer than a desert. When you return, he’s two seconds from face planting into the coffee table and breaking that pretty face of his. You catch him with a hand on his shoulder, keeping him balanced. “Tell me what to do,” he chokes out, voice hoarse.

“Just need you to drink some water,” you say, pressing a cup against his lips. He drinks it, but a drop still dribbles down his chin.

“No,” he groans, catching your wrist in his hand when you reach up to apply some chapstick on him. “Tell me what to do,” he stresses, “to fix this. Fix us.”

His words make you pause, the tube of chapstick hovering over his plush lips. “You don’t have to do anything,” you respond quietly, trying to finish the application so you can pull away.

Jungkook doesn’t let you go. You try to look away, but there’s something about him that looks off. Maybe it’s the raw skin under his eyes, red and swollen. Or the sad droop to those same eyes that hold you captive. Or maybe it’s the subtle tremble in his hands, the fingers that hold tightly to your wrist, not to keep you there but to ground himself. “I don’t wanna lose you,” he rasps out, shakily bringing your hand to his mouth, where he presses one airy kiss to your knuckles. “Tell me ho-how to fix this and I’ll do it,” he pleads, a vulnerable look in his eyes.

Unable to withstand the sheer amount of agony on his expression, you look away. “___, please,” he chokes out, stumbling off the couch in his drunk and desperate haze until he’s kneeling in front of you. “I can’t… I can’t,” he sniffles, tears clouding those pretty eyes you’ve come to love so much. “I don’t know who I am without you.”

You clench your jaw. “You’re Jeon Jungkook,” you murmur, slipping your hand out of his hold to run through his hair. It’s knotted and a little too greasy, two things Jungkook would usually never allow. “This year’s Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award recipient,” you remind him, trailing your thumb across his cheekbone when he turns to look up at you with those big Bambi eyes. “Sweet and shy, but you love being rowdy with your friends. You love movies and TV and organizing your shirts according to fabric type. You work harder than anyone I know and never complain. You date me, even though I’m a huge child,” you smile sadly.

“No!” he jumps, turning that frantic stare back into you. “Y-You’re not— it’s not,” he stammers, words still slurring together. “I’m a liar,” he cries, resting his forehead on your knees. His shoulders shake. “I don’t deserve you,” he weeps quietly. You place a hand on his shoulder. “Y-Y-You make my life so much better, ___, so colorful and fun. I-I wish I knew you in high school,” he admits, “maybe I wouldn’t have been so emotionally constipated now.”

“You’re not,” you reassure him softly.

He disagrees. “You bring out the best,” he hiccups, “the best in me.” Your heart skips in your chest. “I-I love you, you know that?”

You sputter, eyes wide at his sudden confession. “I… love you so much, y’know? I think about you ev-every night, ___,” he rambles, eyes dreamily gazing off into some miscellaneous spot on the wall behind you. “I can’t get you out of my head. Like you're a song, o-on repeat but it’s not annoying because it’s my favorite song, and I could listen to it for the rest of my life, y’know? My favorite song, I know all the words b-because it’s all I think about! I love... My love… I love you so much.”

“Kook,” you rush out, cheeks flaming as you try to pull him away from where he’s slumped over your legs. His passionate speech has you abuzz, body tingling everywhere until you feel overwhelmed, head spinning like you’re on a rollercoaster. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He nods sleepily, seemingly coming down from whatever alcohol induced rampage has allowed him to walk for an hour straight in this searing heat just to confess to you. “Y-You don’t have to say it back,” he continues to stutter as you guide him through the living room on wobbly legs. “I just-I just— can I?” he babbles. “Can I love you, ___?”

You pass through the kitchen space, where whatever you were watching on Disney+ is blaring loudly. It distracts Jungkook for about two seconds before his attention returns to you. When you don’t answer, he presses on. “Is that okay?” he asks, whirling around to face you, catching your shoulders in his hands. He towers over you by the entrance to your bedroom, dark curls tickling your forehead. His eyes are dark and glazed over, both in tears and an emotion so raw and unfiltered it squeezes around your chest until you can’t breathe. “Is it okay for me to love you?” he murmurs softly, knocking his nose against yours.

Your cheeks blaze. “Yes, th-that’s fine, Kook,” you blubber, placing a hand over his chest, where his heart is also hammering away. “Just need you to go rest now, okay?”

He nods sleepily, nudging your nose with his one last time, like a soft almost-kiss, before letting you push him into the room. “Yes, yes,” he breathes, his body finally crashing from his adrenaline spike. He flops down onto the bed unceremoniously, dark waves fanning across your pillows. You try to wiggle him out of his shirt, but it only gets about halfway up his chest before he blindly reaches for the covers. His legs stick out awkwardly, clad in the sweatpants you’ve come to associate with him.

When he’s all swaddled up in your blanket he finally goes limp, tiny snores leaving his lips as he dozes away from reality. You sigh, pressing a palm to his forehead. He’s still warm and clammy, but at this point, there’s nothing you can do but wait for him to sober up.

With a final kiss to his forehead, you leave the room, closing the door behind you before sliding against the wooden surface. There’s a trapped bird in your chest, wildly flapping its wings in an effort to get out, and it’s all stupid Jungkook’s fault in the next room. Stupid Jungkook who demolished and remodeled your heart all in less than twenty-four hours. It doesn’t calm down, even when you rush off into the kitchen for a glass of water, or when you try to immerse yourself in some other show on Disney+. It stays beating against your ribs and your chest until you’re forcing yourself to sit down on the couch and process.

He wakes up a little before dinner. You hear him from the living room, where you’re flicking through the options on Disney+ for the nth time that day. You’ve seen the first fifteen minutes of about twenty different series and movies by now, always growing antsy and abandoning them early on. The only reason you know he’s awake is because the shower turns on for a few minutes, and then his bare feet are heard padding across the hallway back into your room.

By the time he resurfaces in the living room, you’ve resigned yourself to just more Phineas and Ferb, nonchalantly watching the silly cartoon. (Except you’re anything but nonchalant, and your heartbeat rings in your ears.)

Jungkook hovers by the door, clad in a pair of shorts he’s left here before, and a t-shirt you stole from him. “Hey,” he says quietly, lingering by the doorframe. You nod back in response. “Can I watch with you?” Again, another nod.  

Slinking over to the couch, he’s rather careful as he sits down, leaving a few inches of space between the two of you. You don’t even think he can see the screen of your laptop until he murmurs, “he’s my favorite character,” when Perry the Platypus appears on the screen.

You hum. “Thought you didn’t like these kids shows?” you ask. You don’t mean it to sound as petty and backhanded as it comes out, but that’s really no one's fault but his own.

Jungkook’s breathing tightens beside you. “No,” he admits, “I don’t. Only watch them because I know you like them.” You contemplate pausing the episode and engaging in a real conversation with him, but at this point, you’re very tired from the events of the last day. Jungkook doesn’t press either, just shuffles more comfortably beside you.

You get about five minutes in, quiet chuckles shared between the two of you, before he strikes. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he says, so hushed you almost don’t hear it. His hand is resting in the space between you, pinky brushing against yours. “About… being late. And the presents.”

You inspire slowly. “That wasn't even the problem, silly,” you brush off. From your peripheral, you see Jungkook’s slow nod. “I didn’t want any presents,” you mention, “I just wanted you.” You look away from the screen immediately after, pretending like the spot on the ceiling is actually really interesting.

The two of you fall into silence, the animated characters on your screen rapidly chattering away. “Oh,” Jungkook says after a moment.

You roll your eyes. They’re moist but you don’t want him to see. “Yeah, oh,” you parrot back softly, relaxing into the couch again. “Did you eat the food I left out?”

Jungkook shuffles beside you, the soft lull of the speakers soon being cut as he reaches over to pause Phineas and Ferb. A couple of seconds pass and then he’s leaning into you, head resting on your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, placing a palm over the hand he had been teasing for the past few minutes. “I thought I knew what I was doing but I was wrong.”

His voice is so soft and sincere, it makes your chest ache. You try to burrow your face against your opposite shoulder, try to hide the stray tear that escapes out of the corner of your eye. “It’s fine,” you brush off, voice choked off and hoarse.

Jungkook leans up, pecks your cheek so tenderly it makes you go mushy. “No, it’s not fine. I acted like a know-it-all and said something way out of line,” he murmurs, raising his head to look at you. His hand feels warm over yours. It’s the touch you craved all day and yesterday, the warm feel of his body against yours. You’re embarrassed at how easily you melt into it. “You’re the best thing that has happened to me in a long time,” he tells you, holding your hand close to his chest. “I had no right to say those things to you.”

You sniffle, resting your head against his shoulder now. His heart beats loud enough for you to hear. “Was it true?” you mumble. “Do you really think of me like that?”

He shakes his head, his soft breaths fanning across your forehead. “No, never,” he answers. “I think you’re incredible. My brain was just trying to justify my dumb anger.”

You nod, even if you don’t believe it just yet. But that was a conversation for later, you suppose, sometime in the future when you aren’t on the verge of tears and threatening to crumble apart at the simplest word that leaves his mouth.

“I should have come home like you wanted, thought about my words before saying them,” he says, snuggling closer to you. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” you sniffle, covering your face with your free hand as he presses a kiss to the vein that runs over the back of the hand he’s holding captive. “Now it just sounds like I'm just being inconsiderate of your gifts and a crybaby.”

Jungkook kisses your temple softly, gently. “Don’t think about the gifts,” he says. “Just tell me what you wanted to do, doll.”

His voice calms you, has you like putty in his arms. “Watch movies,” you mumble, toying with a thread on your couch cushion. “Be with you.”

He hums. “Then we’ll do that,” he says, reaching for your laptop again. The screen nearly blinds you when it flickers back to life before you, Jungkook’s low breaths against your ear making it near impossible for you to process the titles on the screen. “You liked Disney+?”

Belatedly, you nod. “I like the animated movies,” you admit quietly, the anxieties of before slowly melting away, even more so when he slides his arm around you, pulling you close against his chest.

Unlike other times where he’ll critique the hell out of such childish films, Jungkook says nothing as he starts up the Zootopia movie instead, the same one you had wanted to show him before, right from the beginning. “That bunny looks like you,” you murmur when Judy Hopps first appears on the screen.

Jungkook snorts. “You say that about every cartoon bunny.”

You turn your head to glance at him over your shoulder. He meets your gaze with a small smile you return. “It’s because you’re so cute,” you say softly, lips twisting playfully when his cheeks grow scarlet.

He knocks his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “Not cute, just lucky,” he chuckles. “Lucky enough to have you.” Your heart turns over in your chest, threatening to burst out of your rib cage at his words. You try to turn in his arms. Before you can say the words that have been sitting on the tip of your tongue for months now, he’s beating you to it once again. “I love you,” he confesses in a hushed whisper, no alcoholic influence. 

Something inside of you blossoms, eyes wide as he chastely kisses you. He pulls away without you ever reacting, too caught up in surprise to kiss him back properly. He stays close, curls tickling your forehead as he leans over you. “You don’t have to say it back, I just wanted you to know. I love you,” he says again, long lashes blinking down at you. “So much. It makes me feel like a stupid teenager again, going to the mall to buy a gift for my crush.” He laughs sheepishly, reaching down to tangle your fingers together. “Is that okay?” he asks quietly, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

It mirrors the confession he’d given you that morning, those slurred words and teary eyes. It had been difficult to pinpoint the legitimacy of it before, the meaning scrambled by his hazy mind. But with him staring at you like this now, like you single-handedly plucked the stars from the sky to put them in those sparkly eyes of his, it makes something inside you ache.

Still, you choke on your own spit. “I-Is it okay for you to love me?” you sputter incredulously, realizing the oddity of the same question he’d thrown at you earlier. But now, you’re both sober and you can really tear apart that sentence. Jungkook nods a little too seriously for your liking. “Are you crazy?” He blinks in confusion, brows pulling together as you slowly but surely lose the last bits of your sanity. “You’re an idiot, Jeon Jungkook,” you huff, “a stupidly handsome, rich, walking dream, idiot who goes out with stupid girls like me.”

“Not stupid,” he murmurs, closing in on you again as he finally understands the truth behind your masked insults. He smells minty and like his favorite body wash of yours.

“No,” you deny. “You’re actually, like, insane. You have a bachelor pad, make enough money to sustain an entire litter of kittens, look and talk like every teenage girl’s dream boyfriend— but you mess it all up by dating evil, conniving hoes like me who lose their shit over Disney cartoons.” He says nothing, watching you with an amused grin as you talk over yourself, basically regurgitating his statement from yesterday except it kinda seems plausible now that you’re over it. “It’s stupid. No, you’re stupid. No— I’m stupid.”

Jungkook chuckles, kissing the corner of your mouth gently. “Done?” he says, a dimple appearing on his cheek. You could kiss it away, but you need him to know the amount of stupidity in this room was astronomically high. “You’re not stupid, baby,” he says. You level him with a look. “Well. You have your moments.”

“Moments?” you repeat, standing up in a hurry that has him flopping down beside you. Your laptop is lost somewhere on the cushions, the voices faded as they grow farther away. “I am so stupid. I called Namjoon a whore for taking you out for lunch!” you cry. “I am the stupidest person in the world.”

Jungkook cackles, standing up beside you. “Yes, yes, you’re my stupid girl,” he teases, tapping the pout on your lips playfully. “So stupid she slanders herself instead of just telling me she loves me too.” He bumps your noses together, dark eyes staring at you almost daringly after his claim.

You fold soon enough. “I love you,” you mumble, “even if I’m too stupid to say it.”

He rewards your confession with a kiss, pulling you into his arms soon after. He sighs, almost wistfully. “Whatever shall I do with my very stupid girl?”

After exactly three minutes of feeling safe and loved in his arms, he abandons the living room in favor of leading you back to your room, where he pushes you down against your mattress. You cling to him, leaving him positioned over you at an angle. His chest presses against yours, arm curled around the back of your head. “Gotta get up, baby,” he laughs.

You shake your head, caging him in your arms. “Nuh-uh,” you murmur, legs wiggling when he places a hand on your hip.

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss against the side of your ear. “Your movie is still playing in the other room,” he reminds you, thumb drawing soothing circles on your hip. You don’t release him, his mindless touch only encouraging you to keep him close. “Babe?”

You say nothing, relishing in the comfort of Jungkook’s presence. His hair smells good and feels even softer against the side of your face. The cotton shirt he found is crumpled beneath your fists, dark blue pattern wrinkling. Finally coming to terms with his new home, Jungkook eventually relaxes into your hold with a sigh.

“Alright,” he hums, patting your hip as he repositions himself more comfortably. “I get it. My pretty girl must’ve missed me, huh?” You nod, soaking in every detail about him in this moment. Jungkook shifts, the hand on your hip suddenly falling over your thigh instead. “Or should I say my stupid girl?” he purrs, hand slipping between your thighs. “My stupid, little girl?”

A gasp catches in your throat when he runs his fingers over the front of your panties. Your legs kick out wildly at the sudden touch, toes curling at the hands you dreamt about all day and night. “Oh,” you pant, each brush of his fingers feeling better than the last.

“What?” he says, mouthing against the side of your neck. His tongue feels warm, but the trails of saliva he leaves have you shivering. “Too dumb to speak?” he scoffs, biting down against a particular spot on your neck. You whimper, unsure if it’s because of his hands or his mouth.

“N-No,” you try to sneer back, fingernails digging into his skin through his shirt. His hands are getting braver now, the pad of his pointer finger dancing over your engorged clit. The sheer material of your panties certainly doesn’t help, each touch feeling like it’s being magnified three times over. And if it felt this good with underwear, you can’t even begin to imagine how it’d feel without.

You don’t have to ponder for long, because soon after Jungkook is slipping his hand beneath your waistband, touching your sensitive pussy head-on. “Kook.”

He uses your momentary vulnerability to ease himself from your hold, finally recoiling enough to smother your mouth with his. You moan in surprise, thighs quivering as he gets to work circling your hardened bud sans your panties. Jungkook isn’t the least bit kind as he kisses you ruthlessly, likes he’s trying to compensate for something with his movements. When he finally pulls away it’s with an obnoxious pop and cherry red lips. He huffs, glancing down to see where he’s got his fingers pleasuring you.

Your thighs are squirming back and forth, closing around his hand every few seconds. Jungkook snorts. “Huh, look at that,” he mutters, trailing down until his fingers are gliding over your quickly sopping folds. “Stupid girl is good for something.”

Your cheeks burn. “Kook, I’m not—“

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed glare. “Not what? Not stupid? But I could’ve sworn you just spent the last few minutes saying you were,” he drones meanly, landing one light slap against your cunt that makes your hips buck.

You bite down a whimper. “I was just…” you trail off, eyes rolling back when he teases one finger against your opening.

“Kidding?” he supplies. “Well, I wasn’t.” Your heart stutters in your chest, eyes growing wide as he finally pushes himself off of you, propping himself up with an elbow beside your head. His gaze is dark and unrecognizable. “I think you’re so fucking stupid, doll,” he sneers. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

You should have seen this moment coming, the manifestation of that shiny side of the coin finally reaching its full potential.

While Jungkook wasn’t exactly shy about his interests, he certainly wasn’t tripping over himself to tell you every new kinky thing he wanted to try. You sort of guessed he had some interest in this sort of play a few weeks ago when you watched the Barbie movie at his place. A lot of that night had branded itself into your three am wet dreams, but there was one particular moment that stood out to you. That was you, on your knees, with him condescendingly patting your head. Or just last week, you vaguely remember the term slipping through his lips as he pleasured you with The Bullet Bestie.

The thing about Jungkook was that, until last night, he would have never admitted, or so much as even thought, that he was better than you. That was fine because you would say it enough for the both of you anyway. Did you think Jungkook was amazing, an absolute diamond among these measly rocks? Absolutely. (Were you slightly biased because you were his girlfriend? Skip.) However, you also had this insane evil villain complex that made you want to brag about everything you possibly could, especially if that meant bragging about your boyfriend.

Realistically speaking, he was better than you, that much you could look past yesterday’s anger to admit, and not even in a stuck-up, conceited way; he had a really good job, an architecturally amazing house, and a hot girlfriend. Meanwhile, you had a mediocre job, an okay apartment, and an insanely sexy Calvin Klein boyfriend, half of which he had pointed out yesterday. Regardless of how powerful that third factor was, he still outnumbered you three to one.

Sue you, Jungkook was amazing. Anyone could see that! Except, maybe, himself.

And if the only time Jungkook would openly brag about his greatness or establish how much better than you he was, was in a post-fight, sex-induced setting, then you were more than happy to be his punching bag. So long as it was on your terms, and not as a result of his weirdly bottled up feelings.

(Yeah, you would have a long talk about that tomorrow.)

But for now, you pout up at him, clamping your thighs shut purposefully. “You’re stupid too,” you defend, “stupid and mean.”

Something in his expression changes. Suddenly, he’s moving at superhuman speed as he snatches his hand out from where you had previously trapped him between your legs, yanking you up by the front of your shirt. “Mean?” he mocks. “Isn’t that what you always wanted?” You shiver, fingers wrapping around the wrist that holds your sweater. “Wanted me to be mean and push you around like a little rag doll?”

Jungkook looks at you for another two seconds, before he’s slowly pulling away from you, leaning back on his knees. His tongue is pressing against the inside of his cheek, jaw tightening from the movement. “Baby,” he says so quietly it instills a prickle of fear in you, tainted with delicious excitement.

“Yeah?” you whisper, sitting up tentatively as you watch him, He was a bit frightening, like a wild animal about to devour you whole.

Jungkook rolls his neck, the joints in his spine cracking as he begins tugging off his shirt. You salivate at the sight, too focused on the sinewy muscles of his body to catch the dark gaze he levels your way. He throws it off to the side, his sleeve of tattoos that wraps around his bicep and begins to crawl down his chest wonderfully unobstructed now. “Eyes up here,” he says and you quickly meet his gaze. He leans forward, muscled arms coming to cage you against the headboard. “Stupid little sluts don’t have the room to make such comments,” he rasps out, unamused expression adorning his normally soft features. “Don’t you think so?”

“I-I don’t know,” you stammer, leaning away as he comes closer and closer, eventually just turning your head to the side to avoid that emotionless look. It’s the wrong move, and Jungkook lets you know as much by forcefully digging his fingers into your cheeks and turning your face back around to meet his gaze.

A hand grabs beneath your knee, tugging harshly until you’re flopping down onto your back with a squeal. You settle with his knee pressed hotly against your core. Jungkook stays towering over you. “Dumb little girls who make me watch cartoons,” he spits, tracing a hand over your chest, molding your breasts beneath his hands roughly enough to make you gasp. “And watch little animal movies on Disney+. Aren’t they just so stupid?”

“So stupid,” you concede, subtly shifting your hips for some desperately needed friction. Jungkook snorts, finally granting you your wish with one rough slide of his thigh against your core.

“I agree,” he says, and surprises you with a hand around your throat as he leans in to properly grind his thigh into you. “All they’re good for is being dumb little sluts with good pussy,” he murmurs darkly, thumb pressing into the side of your neck forcefully. “Sometimes, they don’t even do anything,” Jungkook continues, his other hand on your hip hauling you higher up his thigh. You mewl, soaked panties rubbing roughly against your folds. You miss the soft swirl of his thumb, the gentle prod of his fingers. Even so, you can’t deny this change in Jungkook is doing something to you, riling up a part of you that you hadn’t known existed. Maybe it’s the horniness from yesterday that was left unfulfilled, the one year anniversary sex that was put on pause. “Just lay there and take it, too fucked out and dumb to say anything.”

His fingers loosen for the briefest of seconds and you gasp for breath. “That’s terrible,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into his thigh, so close to his swollen cock.

Jungkook chuckles without an ounce of humor, pressing your foreheads together as he helps grind you to completion. “Isn’t it? I think that stupid little girl is cute though.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, vision spotting as he tightens his hand back around your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you moan, stomach tight from all the stimulation.

Jungkook hums, slowing you down with a tight grip on your waist. “Hm, what are you sorry for?” he croons, pink lips pulling into an evil smile. “You said you weren’t that stupid girl, __.”

You shake your head, trying to roll your hips up again but he’s holding you too tightly now, rendering you immobile beneath him. “I am,” you choke out shamefully, grabbing at the hand on your hip in a feeble attempt to remove it. “I am a stupid little girl.”

Jungkook smirks, leaning down to slot his mouth over yours. “That’s right,” he murmurs, “nothing but a dumb little slut.”

You shiver, opening your mouth when he slides his tongue against your bottom lip. He’s not the slightest bit nice, and more messy than usual. He pulls away with a bite to your lower lip, meeting your trembling gaze with that same unrecognizable glint in his eyes. “Come on, dummy, keep up,” he snarks before devouring you again. You try to, you really do, but he’s moving like an animal today, despite his slow and drunken movements from that morning. So you end up with his saliva dripping down your throat, clinging to the corners of your lips as he begins slowly grinding you against his thigh again. He flashes you a wicked smile, pearly teeth on display for you as he glances down at your messy appearance.

“Are you gonna touch me?” you ask, lower lip trembling at the thought after your desperate rutting. Jungkook purses his lips together in thought.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Don’t know yet.”

You whine. “Jungkook, please,” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I need you.”

Jungkook chuckles, running his hand up your waist and taking your shirt with him. He slips his fingers beneath your bra, pushing the wire over your chest as he mouths at your neck. “Cute,” he says. “Can’t do it yourself?”

You tremble, chest arching into him as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. “I-I can,” you gasp. “Just feels better with you.”

Jungkook follows your statement with a nip against your skin, tongue soothing over it right after. “Why? Because I do everything better than you? Even make you cum better than you?”

Your cheeks heat up at his blatant ego rearing its head, hands carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. You say nothing, and that only eggs Jungkook on. “Come onnn,” he teases, finally, finally rolling his hips down onto your core. You squeak, head falling back against the pillows as you’re granted the one thing you’d been chasing. “Say it.”

“Say what?” you ask, voice wobbly as he continues to slowly rut against you, the front of his shorts pressing against the soaked crotch area of your panties. “Oh, oh, Jungkook,” you whine.

Suddenly he bites down harshly, teeth digging painfully into your skin. You yelp in surprise, pussy throbbing at the pain that shoots throughout your body. Jungkook pulls away and doesn’t bother soothing over it as he leans up to capture your jaw this time. “Say you’re a stupid little slut who can’t do anything without me,” he purrs, kisses too soft for the words he says.

Your mind blanks, torn between the humiliating phrase he wants you to say and properly checking him in his place. In the end, it’s with a twisted need to please him that you’re repeating the words back to him. “I-I’m a stupid slut,” you whimper, fingers digging into his shoulder blades as he continues pushing you right along the edge. The rope pulled tightly in your core is slowly being pulled apart, threads hanging on for dear life. “Can’t... can't do anything without...”

“Without who?” he asks, reaching down and untying the front of his shorts. “Can’t do anything without who, baby?”

“Without you, without you,” you cry, bucking your hips up against his, the combined movements of both your bodies making you shake like a leaf. “Ah, K-Kook,” you wail, hips stuttering as your orgasm finally swallows you up. Your panties quickly grow wet and icky from your own arousal that pools between your thighs. Jungkook lets you writhe beneath him as you chase your high, mouth sucking a pretty blossom against your jaw.

You know better than to expect the night to end here, especially after seeing the glint that had been in his eyes as he watched you unravel.

He leans close, let’s his nose brush against yours as you catch your breath. “So perfect for me,” he groans, slotting his lips against yours. You can barely keep up with him, languidly going along with his hot tongue. “Perfect, perfect girl,” he murmurs, a stark change from the less than friendly adjectives he used just moments before. “Tell me you love me?” he says softly.

You nod, mind fuzzy as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Love you,” you exhale, letting your fingers knot in his hair. Your proclamation does something to him, makes him grind the front of his cotton shorts hard against you. For someone that was often rough and brutal with you in bed, he sure was sensitive to the mushiest of things.

“Don’t deserve you,” he huffs, hot breath fanning across your skin. He switches gears fairly quickly. “Tell me you hate me,” he begs hoarsely, rutting against your soiled panties. “Tell me I’m a piece of shit and you could do better without me,” he pleads, voice too airy to be another one of his usual sex-induced thoughts.

You shake your head, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he rolls his hips. “It’s not true,” you whisper, “I love you more than you’ll ever understand.”

Jungkook groans, suddenly winding back and tearing your ruined panties down your legs. You gasp in surprise, letting him haul you about in his blind, self-inflicted rage. “Stupid, stupid,” he huffs, though at this point you can’t tell who it’s directed at. With your underwear out of the way, he wastes no time plunging his fingers back into your cunt, bypassing the tight ring of muscle around it without any of his usual care. “You should hate me,” he snarls, lips pressed against your ear.

You moan, back arching at the sudden pleasure that blossoms between your thighs. “I-I don’t,” you gasp, toes curling.

Jungkook groans, the sound traveling down your spine and straight into your pussy. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, slipping an arm around you to pull you so close until you can’t breathe, chests lined up together. His skin is warm to the touch, scorching almost. “Fuck,” he groans, curling his fingers inside of you. You whimper and moan, incapable of staying still beneath him as he tortures you with a thumb to your clit. “Tell me you hate me,” he seethes again.

Despite the fog that’s settled over your mind, you still manage a resolute shake of your head. “N-no,” you cry, digging your nails into his back. They run dark red lines over his skin, making him hiss at the sting.

Whatever punishment he’s trying to put himself through is falling through with your refusal to admit such a thing. It aggravates him even more, your adamant stance on loving him so, and he’s retracting his fingers before you can cum again. “Please,” he chokes, face tucked into your neck. He’s sloppy with his movements; as he pulls his shorts down and kicks them away, he nearly suffocates you with his weight. “I don’t deserve you, ___, please.”

“I love you,” you whimper for lack of explanation. Jungkook leans back, that same madman gaze in his glossy eyes. He’s looking at you in disbelief almost, pouty lips puckered and swollen. Your hands slip from around him, falling on either side of your head.

Like a cobra he strikes, collecting your wrists in one hand he pins above your head. The sudden movement has him leaning in close, lips brushing over yours. His lashes are coated in a wetness he refuses to acknowledge, looking at you like you drive him insane. “If you ever try to leave me,” he whispers, jerky breath fanning over your skin, “I’ll lose my mind.”

He loves you so much it aches.

“I won’t,” you whimper, feeling your own eyes well up with an emotion that consumes every inch of your being. “I’ll never leave you, you stupid, stupid boy.”

A faint smile crosses his features at your words, lips quirking to the side. You relish in it for all of two seconds before he’s ramming his cock into you, your sensitive walls spawning around him. You sob loudly, eyes rolling back into your head. Your legs instinctively hook themselves around his waist, digging into the base of his spine as he rolls his hips into you.

You feel full and complete like he belongs there in this moment and every moment after this. It makes your heart constrict painfully. Jungkook’s soft groans follow your more unraveled noises, the vulgar slapping of skin on skin the underlying melody to it all. “Ffffuck,” he spits, greedily swallowing your moans up. You whine, arms bucking in an effort to hold him close. But he’s determined in his act of restraining you, long fingers tightening around your wrists until they hurt. “I warned you, didn’t I?” he huffs, snapping his hips into you.

Your walls clench around his hard cock, the drag as he exits sending shivers throughout your body. Jungkook’s body towers over you, glistening in sweat as he nails you into your mattress. “Remember what I said?” he asks, voice but a shuddery exhale. You shake your head numbly, overwhelmed by the rough drag across your walls. “All those months ago, when you first came over,” he adds. The hand on your hip abandons its post to cup you beneath the jaw, palm pressing sinfully against your throat enough to block the tiniest of airflow. “I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he murmurs, voice deeper than the pits of hell. He licks a fat stripe over your cheek like you’re nothing but a sweet for him to devour. “Do you remember that, pretty girl?”

You nod jerkily, hips arching up into him when he thrusts into you again. It’s a memory that replays in your mind every so often, your first night with the man you had planned to humiliate over a mere misunderstanding, now your boyfriend of one year. “Want that,” you gasp, tears blurring your vision when he begins picking up the pace. “Wanna be y-your pretty girl forever.”

Jungkook groans, kissing the corner of your mouth. His thighs are some magnificent beings, keeping his pace consistent even as he loses himself in his overwhelming need to kiss you. “Always,” he manages, soft lips pressed against yours. “I won’t ever let you leave.”

A shriek tears itself from your lips as he picks up that harsh piston, releasing your jaw to hold both wrists above your head. It makes his curls dangle in front of his eyes, covering that beautiful dark gaze. It makes his thin little necklace swing back and forth too, though it’s too small to actually touch your face. The rhythmic swing has you hypnotized, just like everything else about Jungkook.

With the length of his hair, you’re left staring at his lips, pulled taut between his pearly white teeth. The word from before sits heavy in your chest, begs to drip from the tip of your tongue. But he’s moving too fast and too hard, scrambling your thoughts until all you can think about is the cock plunging into your heat. His name falls from your mouth like mindless blubber instead, arms thrashing as your second orgasm swallows you up. It sends you crashing, body spasming as the sheer euphoria waves over you slowly and then all at once.

“Perfect,” he grunts, leaning down to slot his mouth against yours, “my perfect girl.” Your cum makes the sound of his hips erotic, the loud squelching following your panting. Still sensitive from your high, your body unconsciously tightens around him, keeps his cock from fully leaving. It brings a soft whine out of Jungkook, one he tries to muffle against the side of your face.

“Inside,” you whimper, even though your body feels like jelly beneath him. “Cum inside, Kook, please,” you beg.

It only takes a few more thrusts into your leaking hole for him to finally reach paradise, hips stuttering when that first shot of pleasure hits him. “Fuck, fuck,” he growls, wildly snapping his hips into your achy cunt. You moan, feeling just about brainless at the overstimulation. His cum leaves you full, almost makes your belly bulge from it. When he’s done he doesn’t bother pulling away, simply slumping into your limp form. His cock, though quickly softening, serves as a plug for the cum threatening to spill out of you.

There’s a muted noise coming from the other room, the faint sound of the mail slipping through your letterbox, the quiet chattering of the street outside. And of course, the loud blaring of your laptop playing the Phineas and Ferb theme song. Jungkook registers it at about the same time as you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.

He pushes off of you soon after, leaning on his palms over you. He’s got that molten look on his eyes, the heat of a thousand suns burning behind those irises as he looks at you. Like he can’t get enough, even though he’s just about taken everything there is to take. “Love you,” he murmurs quietly.

A drop of sweat rolls over his forehead, clinging to the end of his eyebrow. You reach up and brush it away, let your hand trail down his face to cup his cheek. Immediately he leans into the touch, eyes falling half shut. “Love you more,” you respond.

“Impossible,” he scoffs.

Soon after you’re both stumbling out of bed, clothes haphazardly shrugged back on as you drift through the living room. There’s a thin, hot pink package sitting at the door, just having slipped through the letterbox; the stark Sexuality Unleashed logo is printed on the visible side, so you have to wonder what Doyeon could have possibly ordered this time that could be so thin. The laptop is awkwardly sandwiched next to a throw pillow, barely open a crack. Jungkook retrieves it, sets it on his lap as you scamper over to the couch.

“More Phineas and Ferb?” he asks quietly. He hates it, you know he does. And still, he wants to watch it with you.

You nod. “Please.”

He isn’t so concerned with the plot as you, clicking some random episode to start. You snuggle into his side, quietly singing along to the opening. After a moment, Jungkook speaks again. “Phineas and Flirt?” he offers cheekily.

You roll your eyes. “That might’ve been your worst one yet,” you sigh, trying to drown out his indignant huff by focusing on the screen.

“I don’t exactly see you coming up with these,” he points out, obviously feeling wronged.

Without missing a beat you say, “Disney+ and bust.”

epilogue

commercial break one ; the resolution

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Okay so you’ve gone through Harry raised by the Marauders but what about if both James and Lily survived? Or if only Lily survived?

James and Lily Both Survive

Shortly after or within a few years James and Lily likely get a messy divorce. Due to the nature of Wizarding Britain, I imagine James, a pureblood lord, is automatically awarded full custody of his son with no visitation rights for Lily.

James likely didn’t see the divorce coming, despite the tension and the fights, and in his bitterness, grief, and rage cuts off Lily’s contact with Harry. Lily is unable to contact Harry until at least Hogwarts, if she manages to get a teaching position.

However, I think Lily getting a teaching position is unlikely for a few reasons. First, it’d aggravate James and Dumbledore has far more need of him than he does Lily Evans. Second, I imagine Lily cools on Dumbledore severely per the handling of the prophecy and other factors. Third, I imagine Dumbledore cools on Lily due to her divorcing James, the ideal woman doesn’t do that. Fourth, Dumbledore doesn’t need a set of parents watching Harry inside Hogwarts when Harry needs to be murdered any second now. Lily Evans would just get in the way.

The last thing Dumbledore needs is a responsible adult figure telling Harry that he doesn’t have to commit suicide to win Dumbledore’s war.

So, I imagine Lily is never able to get in contact with her son. She probably makes a few attempts, but I imagine Harry’s mail is intercepted, and even if she manages to get a message to him he’ll have extremely mixed feelings about all of it and probably not wish to make contact with her.

Which means, Harry is essentially raised by James and the Marauder with an added anti-muggleborn sentiment (Lily’s likely seen as very uppity by Sirius for dumping James) and added mother issues.

So we get back to this timeline.

Only Lily Survives

Oof, this one’s tough.

I imagine though that nearly right away Lily gets in the way of Dumbledore’s plans. Dumbledore probably wants Harry in a very controlled environment, as he was in canon, and specifically he wants him as far out of the wizarding world and away from the legend of the boy who lived as possible.

With James, I imagine there’s not much he thinks he can do, as James is a prominent pureblood lord. I imagine Dumbledore tried to say, “You know, James, this boy who lived thing can’t be good for Harry” and James goes, “He has to get used to it eventually.” I think Dumbledore thinks he could get much further convincing a muggleborn woman to see things his way.

I imagine Dumbledore would strongly suggest Lily remain essentially in hiding and live with her muggle sister and her family.

Lily, in turn, would strongly object to this.

Tensions would run higher as Dumbledore keeps visiting. At first, it’s very friendly visits from a beloved professor. But then it becomes clear that he’s offering unwanted advice, strongly suggesting Lily either give him ownership over the Potter seats in the Wizengamot or vote the way he wishes to vote, and being... vaguely threatening about it.

More, Dumbledore keeps acting like Voldemort is coming back, and perhaps he is, but in the mean time the Death Eaters have fallen to pieces. Lily is capable of protecting her son in the current environment. Weirder though, the way Dumbledore talks, he speaks as if he expects Harry, a toddler, to be the one to do something about this.

Prophecy or no prophecy, I imagine the hairs on the back of Lily’s neck stand up.

I imagine that, come the time for Hogwarts, Lily gives Dumbledore the ultimate “Fuck You” and sends Harry to Beaux Batons.

And that’s where we get back to Harry before I get too far down the Lily Evans rabbit hole.

Like the Harry raised by James, Harry’s probably more well-adjusted than in canon and likely less prone to violence. However, I do think he’d still have issues. He still lost his war hero father at a very young age, and will constantly be reminded of that, and likely feel he doesn’t live up to expectations.

That, combined with the fame, the weird pressure from England and his mother refusing to play along, and more I think would make him much the same as he is in the Marauder timeline I linked. He probably lashes out frequently, is very embarrassed to have a single headstrong mother who doesn’t act like everyone else’s mother, is embarrassed that he can’t just be in England like everyone wants, embarrassed by his mother’s paranoia and insistence that he not fight Voldemort, and more.

I imagine Dumbledore’s actually able to get through to Harry quite easily. He tells Harry that his mother is noble, but misguided, and that she lacks faith in Harry’s abilities. Harry, after all, is the only one who can stop the dark lord.

This culminates in grooming Harry for suicide.

Despite everything she has done, Lily lives in the world where her son is murdered because of an entire nation who could do nothing against one, single, man.

[heymacy]

Oh, no, please, Macy. Take your own advice and share your gay little thoughts! Christmas Gallavich thoughts. Go!

my little gay thoughts, oh lord i have way too many of those 😭 but re: Christmas Gallavich — think excited puppy, grumpy kitten 😍😒

ian loves christmas — december is a hard month for him, but the joyfulness of the season has made it easier year after year. since franny and freddie (and baby Gallietti 2.0), he’s gotten really into the movies and the music, because that’s what gets them really hyped (i mean they’re kids, what kid doesn’t lose their mind over “Jingle Bells” and How The Grinch Stole Christmas??)

mickey, eh, he can take it or leave it. christmas was never really a big deal to him growing up, mostly because it usually ended in disappointment. but the past few years have been good ones, spent with the Gallaghers, in the comfort of his own home(s), with his family. and that’s not so bad 😌💛 sure, he likes the movies and the music as much as anyone (though if ian and franny do their irritating, poorly-choreographed dance to TSO’s “Wizards of Winter” one more fuckin’ time… 😤) but he’s really into the treats. all year he waits for ian and debbie to make peppermint bark, and he’ll never admit it, but lip’s actually a pretty decent baker 👀 carl, too. they always make christmas cookies for the kids to decorate (and the adults that are kids at heart, and that includes mickey and ian) and dammit, they’re actually delicious.

where they intersect is christmas activities — ice skating, specifically. ian learned from lip when they were kids. mickey didn’t pick it up until recently, but he shocked everyone with how quickly he was skating circles around the rest of them. franny just learned to skate, and can finally get around without those little ice-walkers they give you when you’re still wobbly, so mickey’s trying to teach her how to speed skate — though he winds up on his ass more often than she does!

as far as decorations go, i think they like to keep things relatively simple. ian gets some decorative hand towels from target for the kitchen and the bathroom and maybe one of the novelty pillows with a reindeer on it from the dollar spot. mickey picks out a welcome mat for their apartment that says “ho ho holy shit” that he thinks is hysterical (their uppity neighbors would disagree, but hey — fuck ‘em). i think ian would probably hang a wreath on the door and christmas lights on the balcony, but mickey draws the line at ian putting new sheets on the bed, complete with tiny christmas gnomes. nope. not happening, sorry debbie. solid White Elephant gift, though!

like i said i’m not a huge christmas person — more of a halloween bitch myself — but christmas as a concept makes me incredibly soft. it’s about healing your inner child, y’know? 🥰🎄💫

[antiloreolympus]

8 Anti LO Asks

1. as a mythology buff, i honestly think it was really weird of rachel smythe to take Hecate, a goddess who helped Demeter search for Persephone after she vanished and heard her screams and shared in Persephone and Demeter's joy after reuniting... and then just make her into Hades's like... total bro who plays aggressive matchmaker to h/p to the point of trying to break up Hades's current relationship. but honsestly i refuse to believe rachel smythe did literally any research before making this comic judging by how she depicts the mythology she's taking inspiration from so honestly im not suprised

2. I don’t know if anyone on here has discussed this, but LO very much plays into the idea of “good victim vs bad victim”.

A “good victim” has suffered many things, but despite it they still remain cheerful and happy and pleasant, they do not put others out or lash out at them even if they are triggered, they do not become petty or angry or hold onto negative emotions. They, in essence, “get over it”. Thus, the narrative rewards them: they get many friends, a love internet they’re happy with, and a happy ending. This is what Persephone is. She’s the “good victim”. Despite her many hardships, we know she will not suffer in the end. She will get everything she wants and more. 

Then there is Minthe, the “bad victim”. They too have gone through many hardships, but they’ve become cold, angry at the world, they lash out and have trouble opening up and connecting to others, they even hurt others, themselves victims to the toxic pain they can’t get rid it. They do not and have not “gotten over it”.  Thus, the narrative punishes them, even when they try to better themselves. It’s never good enough. These characters often are lonely, the cast are large do not like them if not outright hate them, and they more often than not end up dead. This is what Minthe is. She is not a pleasant person, she’s a victim of a manipulative older man and a cruel, unjust society and system, and we know how her story ends. It’s in pain, her maiming/possible death framed as a joke and not even a genuine hint of sympathy towards her fate. She was a “bad victim”, she “deserved” what she got.

Now, you only often see this in fandom, since the actual works that deal with victims of trauma and how they react will often try to give more nuance to every shade of victim they may have on cast, but it’s very disturbing to me that Rachel seems to eagerly play into this idea, like she gets joy out of punishing a victim she created and watching them suffer even more at her hands. It’d be one thing if she kept Minthe a shallow, one dimensional character who was just evil for the sake of it, fine, but her showing us her actual complex nature and the very real struggles, trauma, and manipulation she went through, especially at the hands of our supposed “heroes” of the story, just to have her demise framed as a win for Persephone and a joke for the audience to laugh at? That’s highly disturbing to me. It’s one thing for fans to act that way, but the writer themselves? It’s very dark, to say the least. 

3. "I'm invested in working with fairy tales and folklore for my next project" oh no no no oh god please no. Fairy tales have been through enough hot takes and modern "betterments", they really don't need Rachel "Apollo is bad, actually" Smythe to add to it

4. Quick question

Greek Mythology is mostly incest.

So what if someone who is actually good at writing and storytelling and consistent artwork

Kept it in

For example Zeus and  Hera arguing like the married couple they are

And Hera uses older sibling card

With Zeus dumbfounded face

I don't know why but I want it but would it be weird since it's incest

Most fanfics always keep it out. Just keep it in if you want it to be closer than the actual methods you know

Hera is youngest daughter of Cronus and Rhea and older than her brother Zeus, who was also her husband.

I want to do it but like I have no clue how to start a webtoon so you know💀

5. Oh god, Hades not needing therapy because Persephone's "love" is enough? To quote my lord and savior Kennie JD: "not the p*$$¥ being therapy!"

6. uuuuuh sexual trauma warning.?

So I was writing a comment on the "Re: bpd" ask and i had a realization about persephone

She reminds me of how I was about the idea of sex

I'm demisexual and have sexual trauma and the idea of sex excited me but I wasn't able to like, do it. Me and my partner would mess around but because Mctrauma i couldn't do it cuz I hadn't exactly worked through my trauma and i wanted to get through that because i was finally experiencing sexual attraction.

Kinda reminds me of Persephone. The problem is at that point it had been 6-7 years since my trauma occurred and persephone's happened like last month.

Considering how everyone talks about persephone being a self insert i think Rachel has some things to work through

Also made the realization literally as im typing that Rachel's attitude towards asexuality could be because she's demi and doesn't fully understand what that is or means

becuase if you're ignorant enough you can 100% end up describing demisexuality as "being asexual and then like, slowly turning gay."

this ask weirdly personal so fuck it this is gonna be anonymous feel free to delete if it makes u uncomfy 

7. That’s also a part about Hubris Rachel clearly doesn’t get: it was always committed by rich, often people in high authority, NEVER lowly farmers or the poorest of ancient society. They always knew better. Niobe was a queen! Minos was a king! Arachne was the rich, spoiled daughter of a really successful merchant. Sisyphus was a cunning king. The trojan war was kicked off by royal drama. The list goes on and on. You have to notice these things and genuinely study the myths or you become like Rachel, who seems convinced the poorest people would be stupid enough to not only defy their bosses, but the gods themselves? They would be the last people to do such a thing! They don’t have the ingrained sense of entitlement and arrogance like the rich and powerful to even dare act like that towards the gods, as is the case with hubris. Because of this, Rachel ends up creating a narrative that the rich and powerful (literal GODS) are the real victims to those cruel, uppity poor people, going as far as to say in comic they deserve to be slaves for hades’ benefit and they’re wrong for ever hating Persephone for, you know, murdering them because she had a bad day! They should know their place! It’s absolutely insane that she doesn’t actually seem to realize what she’s writing. Unless she does, which is an even bigger issue, and shows a really dark look into how she views the world and society and how it should be run. It’s all a bad look. 

8. Have you seen the "The demon, is here in the room right now?" meme

Welp, that's literally Persephone and her "feeling"

I legit saw that video about a dude faking a mental illnes (and seeing a demon that made him do bad things) after he commited a crime and that was so cringy and I can't stop thinking about Persephone confessing her AOW like that

[mowulf]

You Gotta be Kitten Me

CH 3: Rude!

“Is this… cat food???” Spy scrunched his face with a noise of disgust. “Look, I know we’re cats, but this is just insulting.” He arched his back at Medic and Engineer before he pointedly turned his back to them and sat down, nose up and tail curled around his paws.

Scout, too, made a face at the plates of wet food, though he was brave enough to scoot over and take a bite

only to immediately spit it out and wipe aggressively at his tongue. “Oh that’s wretched!” He looked up at Engineer, expression overdramatically betrayed, and sideways-angry hopped back. “I thought you liked me!”

Sniper cuffed him before approaching the food for a cautious sniff. “I doesn’t smell bad.”

“It don’t smell bad, but the taste…” Scout shuddered.

Sniper gave him an unimpressed look before leaning forward to give a quick lick at the food. He tilted his head, tail twitching, before he finally shrugged and took a seat by the plate. “Dunno what’s got you two so uppity. It’s not bad. Different, but not bad.” Scout scoffed while Sniper got comfortable and started eating.

Heavy hopped onto the table and sat next to Sniper, who acknowledged his presence with an ear flick. “Is good?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it ‘good’, but it’s not bad.”

“Hmm.” His flicked before he finally leaned forward to take a bite. “Is good enough.”

“That’s the spirit.”

The two biggest cats eating encouraged the remaining cats to approach the other two untouched plates. Soldier took a bite, decided it was edible, and began eating with gusto. Demoman ate slower, pausing periodically to make an unhappy expression or vaguely distressed noises. Engineer and Medic had to wrestle the sock off Pyro who then took one lick and, like Scout, angry-hopped away. Unlike Scout, though, they hopped sideways until they fell off the table.

Engineer laughed as he picked Pyro off the floor and set them back on the table with everyone else. “If you aren’t gonna eat with the rest, then you’ll have to hunt. Cats can’t eat table scraps and people food. Isn’t good for ‘em.”

Spy shrugged and made his way to the edge with a grace only he could possess. “Still preferable to that garbage.”

“Woah, hey, what? No. No! I ain’t eating no dirty-ass mice,” Scout snapped. “Doc, please!” He hopped over and pawed at the doctor’s jacket.

Medic looked him over before finally scooping him up. “Since you aren’t hungry, I suppose I can give you a quick health check,” he said casually, tightening his grip when Scout tried to wiggle loose. “Pauling said she’d come over tomorrow as soon as she could. Hopefully she has an idea of what’s going on.”

“Got it. I’ll make sure everyone’s accounted for in the morning.”

Scout made a few more attempts to get free but quickly gave up and got comfortable. Much easier to do now, given how small he was. He was just starting to get properly relaxed when Medic finally entered the treatment room and made a beeline for the desk. The smell hit him like a brick wall and he retched.

Scout had always hated hospitals. They stank of sterilization and fear. But this? This was so, so much worse. The chemical smell hit him first, burning his sinuses and making his eyes water. Just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, the smell of blood mixed in with undertones of death and decay.

When he was finally set down on the desk, Scout stumbled and dropped to his stomach while he covered his nose in an attempt to block out the smell. It worked to an extent. Medic, meanwhile, either didn’t notice or didn’t care as he dug through the desk for Scout’s file. A clipboard was finally set on the desk with a sharp clack, followed shortly after by a scale normally reserved for weighing organs. It was the only scale small enough for the cats, unfortunately.

By the time Medic was ready, Scout had adjusted well enough to the smell of the room to start looking around. “Alright, Scout, let’s get your weight.”

Scout looked up at Medic, over at the scale, and back. His tail puffed and he folded his ears back as he silently dared Medic to even try.

Medic dared.

Medic lunged and Scout bolted, but Medic had cared for birds most of his life. Catching small, fleeing things was basically second nature anymore. Grabbing hold of Scout was painfully easy, and he dropped the howling, flailing mass of teeth and claws into the scale with ease. “Scout,” he snapped, grabbing the scruff of Scout’s neck. Scout went frighteningly still. “The sooner you calm down, the sooner we can get this over with and the sooner you can leave. Got it?”

He waited a moment longer before he finally released Scout. Scout whipped around and scratched him with a hiss before he could pull away and Medic hissed in pain. Scout hissed back and hunched on the scale and his tail whipped back and forth. Medic examined the fresh scraped and sighed. They weren’t too bad, considering the wounds he’d seen on the field. Still, they were deep and were he anyone else he would need stitches. Instead he pulled a jar of ointment from a drawer and smeared it over the cuts. It wouldn’t fix the cuts completely, but it would stop the bleeding and reduce them to minor scrapes.

“Now that we’re done with that, let’s get started.” A low growl was the only reply. Lord, Scout was going to be the problem child of the group it seemed. With only a brief pause, Medic grabbed Scout and resettled him on the scale. “Hm.” He knew Scout was small but… 12 pounds? He wrote it down anyway. “Okay, stand over here,” he said as he tapped the desk. Scout gave him an angry glare but obeyed.

“More manhandling,” Medic warned before he pressed his thumbs between Scout’s shoulders.

“Ow! Watch it!” Scout squirmed as he was poked and prodded. He didn’t make a fuss when Medic grabbed his wrist and shoulder and tested the range of motion, but he did take another swipe when Medic pressed his fingers hard to expose his claws. “Be gentle,” Scout growled before licking his sore fingers while Medic hissed and examined the new set of scratches on his knuckles.

“Note to self,” Medic growled, “Clip their claws.”

“Not a chance!”

“Now hold still.” The rest of the physical was relatively easy, though uncomfortable. Medic wasn’t gentle and more than once Scout had to smack him away when he dug his fingers in too hard. But Scout was ultimately healthy, from what he could tell. There were no stiff joints, popped sockets, or broken bones. None of the bones or muscles were malformed. For all intents and purposes, Scout really was just a standard house cat. Well, aside from the overdeveloped hind legs which seemed to be a carry over from when he was human.

Fascinating!

“Alright, Scout. Let’s take your temperature and then you should be good to,” Medic said cheerfully as he rubbed more of the healing ointment onto his hands. Scout perked up at that and trotted over to take a seat in front of Medic and opened his mouth. Sweet freedom at last.

Medic chuckled as he pulled out a thermometer. “Oh Scout. Cat’s don’t take oral thermometers.” Scout’s mouth closed slowly in dawning horror and he lifted an arm. Medic just shook his head. “Try again.”

[musicismymoirail]

My mood’s been pretty low lately so I’ve been doing what I normally do when this happens: read some stories or ifs and distract myself with making some new lowkey characters. This week was Crème de la Crème, and these are my surprising favorite playthroughs.

Vesper Erlkönig | nb, aropan | POISE · FLAIR · INTRIGUE

Vesper is the epitome of 'beautiful, dirty, rich', lol. They attended Rochat's, and have always loved the atmosphere of the arts. Their parents did too, or did until they gambled away almost all of their family fortune and sent Vesper to Gallatin to hopefully 'do the family proud'.

Riiiiiight.

Vesper was definitely annoyed at their parents, but ultimately didn’t care that much. They'd win back their fortune one way or another somehow. At school, they were very flirty but was pretty upfront with their ‘no romance’ stance.

That being said though, they got attached to Honorable Florin quite quickly. It’s a match made in heaven, except they’re doing nothing heavenly together and have no interest in anything proper. And it was so much more fun than I thought it would be. xD I imagine post-school, they do remain friends (with benefits) and lots of people are like ‘????’ about their actual relationships but neither care to define it. They’re friends. They fuck. They care about each other. They don’t want to get married, fuck off. Leave the aros alone, thanks.

Vesper ended up getting accepted into Jerome Clay internship which... excited them more than they care to admit. They missed being surrounded by the arts and can't wait to rejoin the community again. Also, somehow despite getting caught by a teacher when they snuck out with Max and being the only playthrough where someone got caught for the pep ralley fire, Vesper ended with getting the model student achievement. SOMEHOW. :’)

Esméry “Esmé” St. Lillevere | nb, bisexual | WIT · FLAIR · SPIRIT

Esméry was going to be my spitfire ‘fuck the system’ playthrough and he ended up as the biggest cinnamon roll because ain’t that how it goes. But he’s also probably my favorite playthrough anyways so it’s all good. 

Before his family’s scandal, Esméry attended Holtsfield's, a religious day school and I imagine he was like a more lowkey Max or Florin. Very lackadaisical and always winning to skirt the rules, Esmé loved to buck traditions when he could whether it reading all the banned materials and books he could get his hands on to hanging out the misfits and more progressive students. They’d plan schemes and talk about all the fun devious things that they could get up to after school when they're be truly free to have fun!

And then, the scandal involving Lord Krause came out and the whole St. Lillevere family into social pariahs. And it hurt, it hurt so so much. Esmé didn't hang out with uppity types, but surely, everyone seemed to abandon him as soon as the news hit. While he'd be hard-pressed to admit it, it truly broke him and pushed him into an absolute despair.

But a spark burned in the ashes, fueled by the more radicals ideals Esmé always tossed about carelessly and he vowed to claw his family's name back from the depths of ruins with bloody fingers, and he'd call for reform and revolution in all his actions. 

He’s also just dumbfuck compassionate sooooo. If someone is upset, he’s offering a hug. All the Gallatin kiddos got hugs when him, lol! I think his playthrough was the one where I ended up just trying to befriend everyone and was actually successful. He also had the best grades and got into the best University and was like ‘haha, successful year wouldn’t you say~’.

And then, he found out about Lady Renaldt’s whole scheme and got tossed into the mines. My only character to point-blank refused to cooperative with her. He was like spite and outrage, and even got her feel a liiiiiiittle guilty.

Still got tossed into the mines and got reunited with Blaise. <3 He definitely developed a little crush while trying to figure out wtf happened with him. Forever a romance about the what-ifs in life~ Thankfully, they both escaped and were able to take down Lady Renaldt completely. 

I imagine his and Blaise’s romance would be ...interesting, post-school. Definitely not easy by any measure. There’s a lot of trauma to work through and Blaise’s whole deal anyways, but there’s a deep connection between them and Esmé is patient and kind (and very intolerant of abuses of power) so I think it’ll work out in the end. Either way, they’re friends for life. Renaldt better not come back if she knows what is good for her.

Iliade Olavarrieta | cisgal, gay | WIT · POISE · SPIRIT

Iliade’s run made me so emotional about Auguste! TToTT!! After Max-Delacriox poly route, hers was definitely my favorite romance. So, thanks Iliade!

Iliade was my highly competitive, academic kiddo who was more proper and by the books than my characters tend to be. Her parents lost their standing in am embezzlement scandal and Iliade was so disgusted and conflicted. She loved her parents but her being the reason for this (’we wanted the best life for you’) made her so sick inside.

Originally, she had eyes for Hartmann. She was well-spoken and hard-working, a perfect marriage candidate and the type of person her parents would've loved. Plus, she was easy on the eyes  and Iliade sincerely enjoyed her company.  However, she hesitated due to  family's scandal and it broke Iliade's heart more than she thought. It was less the rejection though, and more the idea behind it. That she was unworthy due to her parent's mistakes. She knew how it looked, how it was but it was so frustrating to hear it coming from someone she thought she had a sincere connection with.

So, Iliade spitefully decided to ask Auguste Renaldt to dance at the next ball. :’D It was partly due to Hartmann's own interest and partly due to her wanting to prove her own worth. If Auguste danced with her, she was certainly worthy of anyone’s attention and hand. And oh, how Auguste stole her heart that night. She was so much warmer than she had first appeared to be, and Iliade fell so so hard.

Their romance was a cute and polite affair, so simple and warm! I was honestly scared of fucking it up and played it so so safe.  But every interaction filled Iliade's heart with delight. Every time she remembered heir playful spy flirting at the tea shop caused her a dive into a fluster of giggles and self-contained little jumps. She was just so so in love.

Even so, when Lady Renadlt tried to force Iliade to help with her scam, Iliade just couldn't. She hesitated and almost went along but it was wrong, worst than her parents and it caused her to be sick to her stomach. She was partly happy to put an end to it but honestly terrified to even measures. She knew (knew, knew, knew) Auguste wasn't apart of such a scheme but just as she still loved her parents despite their crimes, she feared Auguste's love for hers would end their relationship.

But it didn’t (thankfully!!! TToTT <3333). Their initial blowout was expected and delightful, but Auguste asking if Iliade would still marry her was so sad. Iliade was wanted to wrap her up in all the blankets and kiss away all her tears. At least they’re both going to the same University. They’ll have a sweet marriage, I think.

[reinerispretty]

What if Zuko's S/o was a fire dancer, like they use their fire bending with their dances, and they dont tell zuko because their scared he would judge them or something, but one night Zuko and the gaang go to one of their shows and sees them

thank you so much for sending this in!! i hope i was able to do your idea justice :) 

---

Meeting the Fire Lord’s son had been a chance encounter that (Y/N) could have never dreamed in a million years. While she had grown up on a small island off the coast of the mainland, she spent most of her days on Ember Island. Her dancing troupe performed for different travelers every weekend. They combined firebending with their dances and dazzled the crowd at each performance. She ended shows with fire lilies being thrown at her feet and a crowd standing outside of her dressing room door, waiting for autographs. 

She had met Zuko while she was shopping in the market. She eyed her grocery list and reached out for a papaya only for another hand to collide with hers. Her eyes trailed up to find its source: a boy with dark hair, golden eyes, and a scar covering the side of his face. 

“Oh, sorry,” she apologized. “Did you need that?” 

“Kind of,” The boy had said, shrugging his shoulders. “But it’s not a big deal if you need it.” She pursed her lips. While she knew her fellow performers might be annoyed with her for not bringing back what she asked, she felt bad taking from others. She picked up the papaya and handed it to him. 

“You take it. I’ll just get a mango.” She picked up the other fruit and plopped it into her basket. “I like the taste of mangoes better anyways.” 

“Me too,” the boy said, offering her a small smile. She returned his gesture with a smile of her own. “I haven’t seen you around here before.” 

“I’m here pretty much every day. I think it’s you who I haven’t seen around here before.” She offered her hand for a shake. “I’m (Y/N).” He shook her hand firmly, but didn’t introduce himself. 

“It’s nice to meet you.” She nodded. 

“Well, I gotta get going. Shen closes the shop at sundown and I have to be quick if I want to get some goji berries.” She gave him a small wave before turning on her heel. 

“Wait!” He called out. “Shen’s goji berries are overpriced for what he offers. I can take you to a different place, if you’d like.” 

“I’d love that! Shen’s berries cost me an arm and a leg.” She followed the mysterious boy through town, down some back alleyways, and along a dirt road. Even if he was a stranger who hadn’t given her his name, (Y/N) wasn’t scared of him. (Plus she was a pretty good firebender, so she liked to think she could take care of herself.) 

He led her down to a part of the beach that she had never been: the royal neighborhood. It was the part of Ember Island where the most elite families lived. (Y/N) had always been far too afraid to ever go near this side of the island. She liked staying near what was comfortable. 

The boy led her into the backyard of one of the houses. There, goji berry bushes grew in the dozens. Each bush had bloomed with bright red berries that made her mouth water. She looked up at the boy. 

“Take as many as you like.” She shook her head in disbelief. 

“No way! I don’t want to steal from anyone.” 

“It won’t be stealing,” he said calmly. “I live here.” Her mouth nearly dropped open in shock, but she stopped herself. His face was kind and she could sense that he was being sincere. So, reluctantly, she began picking berries and dropping them into the basket. 

“I think they ripened just the other day, so you can try some if you want.” He plucked a berry off the bush and popped it into his mouth. (Y/N) eyed him cautiously before chewing on her own berry. 

“These are the best goji berries I’ve ever tasted,” she said as she stuffed more into her mouth. The boy laughed. 

“I’ll be here for the next few days if you’d like to grab some more.” 

And that is exactly what she did. (Y/N) returned each day to pick more goji berries and each day the boy joined her in the backyard, eating until he was full. They talked about anything and everything under the sun. Where (Y/N) was from, how they were both benders, and what their favorite part about the island was. 

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” (Y/N) said one day as they sat in the grass together. She plucked another berry from the bush. “But if you live here, that means you must be the son of some big public official, right?” 

He sighed, plucking some grass from the ground and dropping the blades back down. “Yeah, you caught me.” 

“Zuko!” Called another voice. From inside the house emerged a girl with dark hair and intimidating eyes. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Who is this?” 

Instantly, (Y/N) had realized that she had been so, so stupid. She didn’t know why the scar wasn’t a dead giveaway, or the fact that he lived in the royal neighborhood. The boy that she had been spending so much time with recently was Zuko, Prince of the Fire Nation.

“This is (Y/N),” Zuko said to the girl. “She’s my friend.” 

“I don’t know of any (Y/N)’s that went to the Royal Fire Nation Academy for Girls,” the girl drawled, leaning against the doorframe. 

“That’s because I, uh, didn’t.” (Y/N) grabbed her basket and stood. “I really think I should go?” 

“And maybe don’t come back,” the girl said, a smirk painted on her face. 

“Wait!” Zuko grabbed her hand before she could walk away. “I’m leaving soon. Can I visit you somewhere?” 

(Y/N) looked between him and the other girl, who she assumed was Princess Azula. And while (Y/N’s) profession garnered her tons of fans, not everyone was so accepting of it. Many times, uppity reach people had told her to get a real job and stop wasting her life away. She feared she would receive the same treatment from the members of the royal family. 

“I have to go,” she said again, before quickly running away. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been months and Zuko hadn’t returned. She had watched from behind barrels as his ship left the royal port. She was sad that she had lost a friend but was relieved that she wouldn’t have to worry about him finding out who she really was. She wasn’t just a commoner, she was a performer, and the latter rarely got taken seriously in the Fire Nation. 

As the months went by, she found herself thinking of Zuko more frequently than she would have liked. Their friendship had only progressed over the course of a few days, but during those days she felt like she could tell him almost anything. The conversations they had had in the goji berry bushes were some of the most intimate conversations she had had with anyone. Despite herself, she missed him. 

Zuko returned to Ember Island with his new friends a few months after he had last been there. They had hidden out in his family’s old beach house because he knew it was the one place Azula wouldn’t think about searching. 

“We should go!” Sokka said one evening as he held up a flyer to their group. It was an advertisement for a local group of firedancers. Despite living in the Fire Nation for the majority of his life, Zuko had never seen a firedancing show, so he and his other friends eagerly accepted. Satisfied with their response, Sokka put the flyer down on the table before walking away. Zuko eyed it for his information and noticed how the painting of one of the firedancers looked strangely familiar. It wasn’t until they arrived at the show that they realized why.

At the forefront of the stage stood (Y/N), the commoner girl he had befriended the last time he was there. She smiled at the crowd and waved to a few returning fans before doing a backflip and producing fire from her feet. The crowd, including Zuko and his friends, were absolutely delighted by the choreography of the production. The firedancers spun quickly around each other, yet none of them were accidentally burned. 

“This is amazing!” Suki exclaimed. Toph grunted. 

“Yeah, if you could see it.” But all Zuko could really see was (Y/N). He thought her moves to be far more beautiful and elegant than her peers. She combined challenging dances and challenging firebending skills to create a fantastic show. She was truly talented. 

After the dancers had finished their set, Zuko requested that his friends follow him to one of the dancers’ dressing rooms. “Looks like Zuko’s got a crush,” Katara giggled, but he brushed her off. 

He reached the door at the end of the hall that had (Y/N’s) name written on it in fancy script. He knocked. “Just a second!” He heard her shout, before the door flung open to reveal her in a silk robe and her hair in a knot, her makeup being half scrubbed off. “Oh no,” She said once her eyes landed on him. She shut the door quickly. 

“What was that about?” Aang asked. Zuko lifted up a hand to signal his friend to be quiet. He knocked again. 

“Just another second!” She called. From inside the dressing room, (Y/N) made quick work of brushing out her hair and washing off the rest of her makeup. Her heart was racing, partially from the show she had just put on, but mostly due to Zuko showing up at her door unannounced. She supposed that even if he had wanted to announce, he wouldn’t know how, but she was still incredibly nervous. 

Once she was satisfied with her appearance, she opened the door slowly and smiled sheepishly up at him. “Hi.” 

“You didn’t tell me you were a firedancer.” 

“In my defense, you didn’t tell me you were Prince of the Fire Nation, so I think we’re pretty even.” Zuko chuckled, shaking his head. 

“Yeah, but I was hiding my identity so you wouldn’t act weird around me. What’s your excuse?” She pursed her lips, looking at the ground. 

“I thought that if you knew, you wouldn’t take me seriously. A lot of you rich folks come around and criticize me for what I do, so I guess I was just...scared.” She shrugged at the end before noticing the group of people standing behind Zuko. “Oh, hi! I’m (Y/N). I used to eat Zuko’s goji berries.” 

Collectively, the group raised an eyebrow. 

“I would never criticize you!” Zuko exclaimed. “What you did out there was absolutely spectacular. I thought you were the best dancer out there.” (Y/N’s) eyes widened and she covered his mouth with her hand. 

“Don’t let the other dancers hear you saying that! They get crazy jealous.” Zuko wrapped his hand around her wrist and moved her hand down. 

“Do you want to grab dinner sometime?” He asked. (Y/N) smiled. 

“Yeah, I’d really like that. Let me just change into something that isn’t a robe.” 

---

permatag list! 

@aroyaldarknessblr , @harryisthesunshine