#more aware of the fact that I’m no one’s friend

[redflagshipwriter]

SNITCHES THE CAT SEQUEL pt1 and masterpost

Part Two/Part Three/ Part Four/ Part Five

Part One

“This you?”

Danny pushed the newspaper down without looking at it, revealing Sam’s shitty grin. “That lost cat is not me, no.” He rolled his eyes. They had been showing him lost pet ads ever since he got back from Gotham. “Isn’t that joke getting old, guys?” He kicked his way further into a slouch in the booth as Tucker came back with refilled drinks.

Tucker laughed, and then there was a silence. “Danny? Are you sure this isn’t you, man?” He sounded uncertain.

He felt his jaw twitch and he had to tell his friend off. “Is it that funny that there’s a sad kid out there? Honestly, guys-” Danny opened his eyes fully to roll them and then saw the lost pet ad being brandished in his face. He blinked at it. His brain did a full reboot and he reached out to take the paper. 

It looked like him, sleeping on the cushion in the batcave. Had they gotten that photo from the security footage? “It’s me.” His voice came out way too high.

Danny pulled the paper over in disbelief and realized that it was a two page ad. “Oh wow,” he said faintly. There he was, leaping across the kitchen. And there, that must have been taken by Damian when he fell asleep on the bed. There was a cat toy partially in the frame.

Sam’s snorting laughter cut off. “Uh.” She kicked him lightly under the table. “Is.. Is that little kid going to be okay?” She asked in a small voice. She sounded like she felt bad for poking fun. 

Danny felt guilty. He stared at the evidence that Robin was missing his cat terribly and felt like the biggest jackass possible. “Should I go back?” he wondered. He squirmed, pulling a foot up onto the bench to perch on. “I mean… How long does a cat live? A few years?”

“Try about twenty,” Tucker said flatly. “I feel bad too, man, but you can’t defer admission that long.”

“Though Snitches was clearly not a little kitten, so you could really just give it a couple years,” Sam mused. Both boys stared at her. She blinked. “Not that I’m suggesting you do that!” She waved her hands at them. “The longer you stay with him, the harder he’s going to take it when his pet ‘dies’,” she said with finger quotes. “You did the right thing by leaving as soon as you could.”

“Maybe we could answer it, do a photoshoot, tell him that Danny was your cat or something and he’s come home,” Tucker mused. “He’d be sad that he couldn’t have the cat, but surely it would be better than worrying the cat died, right?”

“What are you losers talking about?” Star said, giving their booth a wide berth. “You’re not hurting cats now, are you, weirdos?” She eyed them like they were gross. “It would figure.”

“Fuck off,” Sam said pleasantly. All three of them gave Star a rude gesture in unison, just like they had practiced. “That shit’s uncalled for.”

Star sniffled and turned away on her heel, cheer skirt flouncing behind her. A few moments later she clearly reached her table because the sounds of popular kid conversation got a lot louder.

“She should be a reporter,” Sam said darkly. “I would love for her to get sued for slander.” She snapped open her clutch and began applying even more black eyeliner, as if that would differentiate her from the other girls in the restaurant.

Tucker groaned and pulled his hat down over his eyes in despair. “That’s gonna be a bad rumor,” he complained. 

Danny couldn’t find it in him to care as much as he usually would. He was still stuck on the fact that Damian had put an ad in the Illinois Times. “Do you think he realized that Snitches got on a highway bus to Illinois?” he hissed, now aware that other people might be listening in. “How would he know that?”

Sam frowned. Tucker lifted his head and pulled out his phone to search. “That’s a good question,” he said to himself. He hit buttons rapidly. “Uh, same ad is in…” He trailed off. “Hold up, hold up, lemme search this backwards…” Whatever he saw had him raise his eyebrows high, look at Danny in disbelief, and then shake his head slightly. “You must be a really good cat. I'm kind of jealous.”

“What?” Danny hissed. “Just tell me.”

“Hey, hey, paws off.” Tucker moved his device further away. “Uh, this poor kid- well.” He paused. “Poor is the wrong word. He’s put ads in newspapers all the way up to Ontario and down to… Well, in Mexico at least.”

Danny and Sam stared at him in disbelief. “You’re fucking with us,” Sam said after a long moment.

Tucker silently shook his head. “There’s a nationwide Greg’s list ad,” he said grimly. “20 dollars an hour to print and staple missing cat photos to telephone poles. And a private detective’s agency on the case, asking for witnesses to come forward.”

Danny put his head in his hands. “I have to go back,” he said, haunted by the responsibility. “I can’t let him be this sad.”

“Danny, no.” Tucker said. Sam nodded her agreement. 

“…Yeah, that’s crazy,” he said unconvincingly. He gave a fake laugh. “He’ll get over it.” Danny stared into his drink, watching bubbles. Robin was not going to get over it. That kid loved hard.

“I could use 20 dollars an hour,” Tucker said in a thoughtful tone.

“No,” Sam said flatly.

Tucker shrugged, smiling slightly. “I wonder how much I’d get for bringing you back.” He shrugged theatrically. “You could send me to college, man! Don’t you want me to go to college?”

“No…” Danny said weakly. “I… Is that fraud?” Still. Money would be nice.

“Guys, no.” Sam knocked them both in the head with the pile of napkins. “You can’t do that to this little kid. He’s clearly not well.”

“Exactly,” Tucker argued passionately. “Imagine how happy he would be to get his cat back! We could reunite him with his pet!”

It was tempting. He felt, like, so bad about how sad Robin was. The little guy had been so proud of his pet. Danny could spare a few years to make a little kid happy, right? It was kind of greedy otherwise.

Danny stared at the bubbles in his drink again, really thinking it over. “I think I would have to fight crime with him,” he said dully. “That’s a minus.”

“Danny?” Sam rapped the table with her fingers. He looked up to see her pointed eyebrow raise. “What are you talking about?”

He hunched his shoulders up. “Nothing, nothing,” he lied hastily. He forgot they didn’t know. He couldn’t dox someone’s crime fighting identity, though, it would be really unfair. 

“You could buy me a house,” Tucker wheedled. Sam hit him.

[drunkinyourbenz]

jealous billie smut?

୨ৎ only girl. b.e

୨ৎ billie eilish x fem!reader

୨ৎ genre: smut and fluff

୨ৎ content: more sub top billie bc...yeah. oral (r recieving), jealousy, possesivness, fingering (r recieving), teasing

୨ৎ note: this request has been rotting away in my inbox and i know for a fact that you 100% wanted dom billie but idc <3 have some subillie bc i love her !! this is like half edited bc i got bored

the girl’s hand was on your waist before you had even noticed her walking across the room to you. by the time your eyes flickered down to where her hand rested, you could feel your girlfriend’s eyes burning into the back of your head from where she stood by the bar. she had given herself the task of getting drinks for the two of you, but you were well aware that was the last thing on her mind now.

you took the girl’s wrist, smoothly slipping it off your waist and giving her a look that would’ve told anyone else everything they needed to know. unluckily for you, this girl was either drunk off her face or just didn’t care. 

it made you uncomfortable—you hated the idea of flirting with anyone but billie, and you knew billie would get jealous. although, she was adorably desperate to make sure you knew she could please you best when she was jealous, so…maybe it wasn't all bad.

billie had always been jealous, you learnt that fact a few months into your relationship. it wasn’t in a destructive way, it was in a quiet way. she would effortlessly pull your attention away from anyone else, giving them a cold stare until they took the hint. she’d stay quiet, her jealousy bubbling below the surface until she finally got you somewhere private and that’s when it really came out. she was your only girl, she was the only one who could make you feel good, she was your whole world—and she knew it. she just needed to prove it.

“you know, i’d love to–”

“i’m taken.” your words were final, and billie’s hand sliding around your waist only solidified that fact. she didn’t say anything to the girl, simply used her hand on your waist to turn you towards her. it was always cute seeing her putting on that fake confidence—because you knew that if she spoke, she’d be stumbling over her words. 

you smiled at her, leaning closer to her to press a kiss to her lips, “hi, baby.” 

the girl from before—who had almost been totally forgotten—looked the two of you up and down before rolling her eyes and letting out a scoff, “whatever. you’re so boring.” 

you let her words pass through you as if she hadn’t even spoken, and you heard another soft scoff before the girl walked away. you felt billie’s hand on your waist noticeably relax as the two of you were left alone, a soft breath slipping from her lips. “god, i hate these parties.” 

she didn’t hate the parties, she hated seeing people all over you—and rightfully so. you were hers, and she was yours. no question about it. 

a breathy laugh left you as your lips brushed softly against her ear, “yeah? you know you’re my only girl, mhm?”

she hummed softly, her eyes darting around the party as if assessing something. it was crowded, loud, and the friends that the two of you were here with were nowhere to be found. “can we leave?” 

you nodded softly, a knowing smile painting your face, “why d’you wanna leave, sweet girl?” 

she sent you a look, and the slightly tense look of her shoulders and her furrowed brows told you everything you needed to know. there was a certain desperation in her eyes, silently begging you not to make her spell it out for you. she knew you knew why she wanted to leave, you were simply teasing her. 

you weren’t quite done with teasing her, so you brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes with a soft look in your eyes, “hm?”

her eyes stopped exploring the room, snapping back to yours with an undeniable look of utter desperation. she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. instead, she let out a soft, annoyed sigh, lacing her fingers with yours and pulling you towards the exit. 

you couldn’t help but giggle softly at her frustration—her jealousy was adorable. it wasn’t mean jealousy, it was desperate jealousy. her jealousy only made her want you more, and considering how obsessed with you she already was, that was saying something. 

she turned to glance at you as she tugged you towards the car,  “stop laughing at me.” she was clinging to her frustrated act, despite both of you knowing full well that she adored your teasing. “you know exactly why i want to leave.” 

you grinned at her, “of course i do. just want you to say it.”

she rolled her eyes, sending you a lighthearted glare, “you’re impossible.”

when you only winked in response, waiting for her to just admit it, she groaned, huffing softly. “fine. you know i’m jealous.” 

“cute,” you mused, continuing to prompt her teasingly. “and you want to go home so you can…?”

she sent you another irritated look, “so i can make sure your eyes are only on me.”

jealous and possessive.

“believe me, my eyes were never on her.” 

her lips twitched up into a barely noticeable satisfied smile, “and…never mind.” she trailed off, her eyes drifting to the floor. 

oh, no. that wouldn’t do. “and…?”

she didn’t respond, she just opened the car door and slipped into the driver's seat. you sighed, getting in the passenger seat and putting your hand over hers before she could reach for the handbrake, “billie.” you murmured, your voice soft but warning. “tell me.”

billie’s eyes drifted down to your hands, staying silent for a moment before speaking in a soft voice, “wanna make sure i’m the only one who can make you feel good.” 

the corner of your lips twitched up, “see, was that so hard?”

an unamused look was all you received, although you knew that deep down, she adored your teasing—you wouldn’t do it if she didn’t. “can i drive now?” 

“yeah, baby.” 

she wasted no time in reversing out of the parking space, starting the drive back to your house and not looking back at the club once. she was determined to get you home as soon as possible, to get you on your bed and her face between your thighs. 

it was late, so there wasn’t too much traffic on the roads. the sound of soft rain pattered on the roof of the car, making the lights shine in dotted patterns against the glass of the windows. your eyes traveled over to billie when the two of you were brought to a stop at a red light, the bright city lights from outside the car shining onto her skin her pale blue eyes fixed on the road ahead. 

you watched as her tongue darted out over her lips, and you knew that she was imagining everything she planned to do to prove she could make you feel better than anyone else ever could. you’d never doubted that, you honestly hadn’t even spared anyone else a single thought in the two years you’d been with billie. you simply liked seeing her hopeless desperation to please you when the jealousy took over.

billie’s jealousy was harmless, and had never once put your relationship at risk. she trusted you, and she knew that she was the only one on your mind. it was other people she didn’t trust, and she needed to make sure you knew she could please you best. more than anything, however, she needed reassurance. she needed reassurance that she was indeed the best, that she was doing a good job for you, that she was your good girl. 

the moment the light turned green, the car was speeding off again. you could practically see the way her mind was racing with thoughts of how she planned to engrave herself in your mind, make sure you never forgot how much pleasure she could bring you and how devoted to you she was. 

the drive was silent, an undeniable tension in the air—you both just wanted to get home and into the bedroom. once you arrived at your house, billie parked the car in the driveway and leaned over to unbuckle your seatbelt after undoing her own with a soft click. grabbing the back of your neck, she pulled slightly across the central console, your lips meeting in a hungry kiss as you let your hands thread through her hair. 

“god, you have no idea how hot you were at that party. you don’t even have to try, do you? everything you do just drives me wild.” her words came out breathlessly before she pulled you back in for another kiss, her tongue slipping past your slightly parted lips. 

when you pulled away from the kiss, she let out an impatient whine as she chased after your retreating lips. her eagerness made your lips twitch up into a subtle smirk, “inside.” 

she let out a soft huff of air, but she knew that going inside would get her what she wanted sooner. so she opened the car door at the same time as you opened yours, both of you rushing to the door to escape the rain. she fumbled around in her bag for her keys with shaky hands, so you found your own keys to unlock the door for her.

she practically shoved you inside, only for the two of you to be met with your dog, shark, barrelling into you as you removed your shoes. his tail was wagging and he was practically bouncing off the walls, like a kid on christmas. 

you crouched down to greet shark, patting his back and scratching behind his ears, “hi, my little baby shark. did you miss us?” 

you heard your girlfriend sigh, her voice coming out impatient, and you could tell she was trying to hold back a whine threatening to escape her throat. her arms were crossed over her chest, her foot tapping softly on the carpet. “baby…” 

you couldn't help the teasing smile that spread across your lips—she was so, so desperate, it actually made your heart race. “okay, okay,” you pressed a parting kiss to shark's forehead and muttered something about how you'd see him later. 

billie’s hand circled around your wrist, tugging you up the stairs before you could finish whatever you were saying to shark. when she reached your shared bedroom, she shoved you through the door and closed it behind you. you couldn’t recall a time where she’d ever been quite this desperate, and you felt your stomach twist as she let out a breathy sigh and a barely audible, “please.”

your breath hitched in your throat at the look in her eyes as she gazed at you, seeing the utter devotion that she wasn’t even trying to hide now that the two of you were alone. you suck in a soft breath, watching her quietly for a moment. 

“you need me?”

her eyes snapped up to meet yours, nodding frantically. she was silently pleading with you, begging for you to let her make you feel good. she needed you to reassure her that she was enough, that she could please you. she needed to be reminded that she was the centre of your universe. 

you walked backwards until you felt the back of your thighs hit the mattress of your bed, and you sat down on the edge, gesturing for her to come closer. she closed the distance between the two of you in a few short strides, standing between your legs and looking down at you as you sat on the bed. her hands were trembling slightly—it was barely noticeable, but you noticed it. you noticed everything about her, you always did. she reached out to trace her shaky fingers across your cheek in an almost reverent touch, your eyelashes fluttering against her fingertips. 

you leaned in, closing the gap between the two of you and feeling her practically melt in your arms. her hands slid down from your waist to your thighs, the tips of her fingers slipping under the waistband of your jeans, looking down at you with her big pleading blue eyes, an insatiable hunger burning within them. 

“please? let me?”

you nodded in response to her question, and she instantly pushed you back so you were propped up against the pillows. you pulled your shirt over your head as she gently pulled your jeans off your legs. you heard a barely audible whimper leave her lips at the sight of you in just your bra and panties—and while you didn’t comment on it, you allowed it to give your ego a little boost. 

first, she unclasped your bra and slipped the straps down your arms, discarding it on the floor by the bed. her lips latched onto your left nipple while her hand moved to squeeze and palm at your other boob. eventually, her lips trailed up from your breasts and to your neck, leaving a trail of love bites scattered behind her. the moment her lips were on your neck, she was sucking marks into your skin—marks that she knew you wouldn’t be able to hide. her voice was a soft whine, “mine.”

mine, mine, mine. 

she settled down between your legs, propping herself up on one elbow while she gently pushed your thighs apart. her hand moved to trace a soft line down your inner thigh, eventually slipping under the lace of your panties and sliding through your folds. you heard her moan at the feeling of how wet you were, and the fact that she was so turned on from just that made your heart skip a beat. 

she removed her finger, bringing it to her lips. you watched as her eyelashes fluttered and she moaned around her finger, and you felt yourself get impossibly wetter. she didn’t waste any time now that she’d tasted you, pulling your panties down your thighs and letting them fall to the side of the bed somewhere. her lips trailed up your inner thighs, her eyes permanently fixed on yours. attentive as always, she was watching your every reaction, every furrow of your brows and every inaudible breath that left your slightly parted lips. she’d always noticed every little detail, more than anyone else you’d ever met. it made you feel so…cared for. 

soon enough, her tongue darted out to lick a stripe up your folds, and you heard her whimper at the taste. her eyes shut briefly, her nose bumping against your clit before she sucked the sensitive bud into her mouth. her eyes were open once again, looking up at you as she took in the clear bliss on your face. your clear pleasure seemed to encourage her. 

soft moans spilled from your lips, “good girl.”

you watched as her eyes lit up with delight at the praise, a pleased murmur vibrating against your clit. her free hand snuck up to gently squeeze your breast, giving your nipple a teasing pinch. 

one thing you knew was that you’d never get over the way she always looked in between your legs—needy and desperate, she’d do whatever you wanted and more if it meant she got to touch you. she sucked particularly harshly on your clit, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips and causing her searching eyes to snap back up to yours. her brows were furrowed as she watched you for a moment, pausing her movements. her voice was laced with concern when she spoke, “was that…too much? sorry, was i– uh, i can—”

you cut her off by tangling your hands in her hair and gently pushing her face back down between your legs, “you’re doing perfect.”

at those words, you watched as her shoulders visibly relaxed and she dove back in, her tongue eagerly working at your center. her eyes fluttered shut this time—this was bringing her just as much pleasure as it brought you. she needed to make you feel good, she didn’t feel complete until you’d fallen apart around her. 

when your thighs closed slightly around her head, she used her hands to gently pry them open again, holding them in place as she ate you out. her nails dug gently into your skin, you knew they’d leave slight crescent indents in their place. 

your back arched up off the bed slightly at the pleasure, and you watched as her eyes flickered up to meet yours. 

“doing so good for me, baby. so perfect.”

her lips curled up into a smile, and her tongue darted out to lick between your folds again before she spoke, “you close?”

“so close.” 

at that, her lips returned to your clit and she slipped two fingers inside of you, curling them perfectly and coaxing moans from you that made her grind against the bed subtly. your breath hitched as her tongue flicked against your clit, “fuck… that’s it, baby. so good for me, my only girl.” 

those words were it—billie flicked her tongue against your clit again, curling her fingers inside you when you finally felt the tightly coiled spring inside of you snap, shockwaves of pleasure washing over you as you let your head fall back against the pillows. “billie–”

billie reveled in the pleasure written all over your face, continuing to eat you out to drag out your orgasm until your hips jerked away from her mouth. after leaving a gentle nip on your inner thigh and sucking a soft hickey there, she dragged herself up to join your lips together. her tongue slipped between your lips, letting you taste yourself as your hands travelled down to her waist and pulled her closer to you so she was straddling your hips. 

“see?” she murmured softly as she looked down at you from where she sat on top of you, “no one else can do it like i can.”

your lips twitched up into a smile and you leaned in to press another loving kiss to her lips, “oh, sweet girl. there was never any doubt. you’re my only girl, forever and always.”

୨ৎ taglist : @47lake @st0nerlesb0 @n0vabug @darkside-0f-the-sun @asterisk-eyes @amara-eilish @dragoneyelashart

send an ask or comment here to be added <3

[loonsloon]

@into-the-jeggyverse, january 25, luck words: 955, cw: blood, but nothing too explicit

Yes, Regulus was aware that he had a bit of a crush on James Potter. After all, the guy was warming up to him fast. It was terrifying to admit, but after spending some time with James—not by his choice, mind you—they could maybe even call each other friends. It was unavoidable, though, because James was everywhere. And if he wasn’t, he’d always find a way to be.

Like right now.

Regulus had been helping Madam Pomfrey these past few days. It all started one random afternoon while he was delivering potions for Slughorn. After admitting that he was interested in becoming a healer, Pomfrey offered him the chance to learn basic healing spells under her guidance, and he agreed. So far, his duties were simple; some minor injuries, like a scraped knee, a bruised elbow, or a first-year’s sprained ankle after tripping on the moving staircase.

What he hadn’t anticipated, though, was how often his idiot brother and his even more idiotic friends would show up. They were in the hospital wing more often than clumsy first-years after flying lessons.

And here he is. James Potter. Bursting through the doors still fully dressed in quidditch gear, grinning ear to ear despite the blood oozing from his forehead. A Gryffindor-themed towel was pressed against the wound, doing nothing to stop the bleeding. Regulus swore his heart skipped a beat—whether from the sight of the blood or the way James’ shirt clung to his torso was debatable.

“Madam Pomfrey! I think I need stitches!” James exclaimed, glancing around for her.

“She’s not here,” Regulus sighed, and James’ eyes finally landed on him.

Moving the towel for a moment, James revealed a cut slicing through his eyebrow. Thankfully, it wasn’t that bad, and it missed his eye entirely.

James’ grin somehow grew wider. Regulus was already regretting being here today.

“Reggie! I didn’t know you were in today,” James said cheerfully, jumping to sit on one of the beds, his feet swinging like an overexcited toddler. Regulus refused to admit that it was adorable. In fact, James and the word adorable had no business being in the same sentence.

“She went to get some potions. Barely anyone’s been in today. She’ll be back soon,” Regulus explained, turning his attention back to organizing the supply cabinet.

“Well, aren’t you training to be a healer? I know you can heal this; it has to be easier than Sirius’ broken nose last week!”

Yes, but Sirius is his brother. Regulus didn’t care if he fucked up his nose. It might’ve even been funny, considering how much Sirius loved to brag about it.

James, though? That was a different story entirely. There was no way Regulus could risk getting so close to him. He was terrified James might suddenly look at him and realize: Oh, so you’ve got bit of a crush on me, huh? And Regulus can’t have that happening.

“I’m not doing anything without Pomfrey’s approval. I haven’t perfected the stitching charms yet, and that looks like a nasty cut,” Regulus lied.

All of that was a lie. Regulus had already handled worse injuries without her. The cut wasn’t even that bad; the blood was only flowing because James was still sweating from practice. His body was literally, and figuratively, hot.

“It’s not that bad! Just a bit deep. C’mon, Reg, at least clean it up,” James pleaded, a cute pout on his face. He’d taken off his glasses and was now holding the towel across his right eye, somehow managing to look ridiculously endearing.

“Fine,” Regulus muttered, utterly defeated. James wasn’t going to leave him alone, so he might as well make himself useful.

“But I’m not stitching it up. You’ll have to wait for Poppy. I’ll just stop the bleeding and clean it up for her.”

He rolled over the medical trolley and stopped it in front of James, positioning himself between James’ sprawled knees. Grabbing gauze and alcohol, he prepared to clean the wound.

“Hi,” James said, smiling down at him. His dimples popped, and his grin was somehow even more genuine than usual.

Regulus felt the blush creeping up his cheeks but refused to show weakness.

“Hi, idiot.”

And there it was—that beautiful fucking laugh.

“Aren’t you going to ask what happened?”

“Something, something, Sirius accidentally hit you with his bat,” Regulus guessed, not bothering to look up. It wasn’t a difficult assumption; the two of them were a disaster in the air, always bickering and pushing each other.

“Hey, how did you know?”

“You’re predictable,” Regulus sighed, starting to dab at the wound with alcohol. James winced.

“That stings!”

“Don’t be a baby. It’s what you get for being careless,” Regulus muttered absentmindedly, still focused on cleaning the cut.

“Aw, do you care about me, Reggie?” James teased, leaning back to look him in the eye.

Regulus felt the heat rising again and glared at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. And stop calling me that, Potter. I told you I hate that nickname.”

Grabbing James by the shirt, he tugged him back into place to finish his work. Desperately trying to hide how flustered he was.

“Alright, alright,” James relented, settling down.

Finally, some silence. Regulus worked quickly, trying to ignore the way James’ knees kept brushing his sides, sending tingles up his spine.

After finishing the cleaning and stopping the bleeding with a quick charm, Regulus stepped back.

“There. You’re done,” he said, moving the trolley away from James’ reach before he could cause more problems.

“Aww, thanks, Reg. Aren’t you going to clean the rest of my face?” James asked, his tone playful, his cheeks still covered with dried blood.

Regulus shot him a glare. “Don’t push your luck, Potter.”

[jeonscatalyst]

Sometimes I get a little sad about the fact that I, a gay person, have been loving and supporting bts with Jimin and Jungkook as my biases for almost 7 years and never felt comfortable enough to show love for them as anything more than a friend duo. I’ve even been a quite vocal shipping-anti, don’t agree with the way shippers often behave, certainly don’t agree with companies gay4pay’ing while openly lgbtq artists are discriminated against and harassed. Not to mention having your sexuality and relationships speculated on can be incredibly traumatic. None of it sat right with me, no matter how normalized it is.

But with time I’ve come to realize the lines are blurry sometimes. Jikook is one of those times. For example now seeing that gcf post, Jungkook editing with those lyrics when jimin is on screen, the Tokyo one too with the Troye Sivan song, I am once again conflicted. What if all I’ve been doing for all these years is miss the opportunity to support real representation, to validate queer idols? What if they wanted to be seen? I’ve been actively dismissing so much about them just to be respectful, but what if the more respectful thing would have been to embrace them? I know I would have felt incredibly frustrated if people kept brushing aside all my efforts to show love for my partner and this part of my identity. So which one is worse? I honestly don’t know anymore and that’s why I just stay quiet on them altogether.

Hi anon,

I don’t think you’re wrong for intentionally avoiding putting a label on whatever Jikook might have, because the truth is, they’ve never explicitly told us what they are to each other. As a shipper who spends time on social media discussing Jikook and the nature of their relationship extensively, I am fully aware that I’m being invasive. This feels invasive because, while I believe they might have a need to be seen for who they truly are, I don’t think they’re actively trying to reveal that to the world…at least not yet.

I have a great deal of respect for those who choose to honor their privacy by not digging too deeply into their personal lives. Some of us are far too curious, and while we may feel a strong need to openly support what we believe they are, that doesn’t necessarily justify how much we probe.

It’s also important to remember that at the end of the day, everything we discuss is speculation. None of us know for a fact what Jimin and Jungkook truly are to each other. I wouldn’t fault anyone for their perspective, no matter what they choose to do. I don’t mind people who are anti-shipping because they see it as invasive….it is invasive, after all. My issue is with those who use anti-shipping as a cover to invalidate or disrespect Jikook’s bond. Likewise, I can’t stand those whose homophobia blinds them to the simple truth that love is love, even between bandmates who have lived together for years.

It’s perfectly okay to respect their privacy by not delving too deeply into analyzing their lives while still supporting them in a healthy, respectful way for whatever they are.

I also don’t think Jimin and Jungkook would only appreciate support for the idea of them as lovers. I believe they would be happy knowing people support their bond…whether it’s romantic, platonic, or brotherly. As long as you actively support and acknowledge the love they have for each other(which they constantly show us) regardless of its nature, you really can’t go wrong.

[dissociation-station123]

Chapter Six - Lapse in Control

Sylus X Reader

You were unable to form a sentence at the moment. Chemical endorphins in your brain were overflowing with pleasure. All you could seem to do was groan in appreciation. “Y/N..” A voice calls out your name but the juicy burger was way more tempting than the baritone sound.

A hand reaches out to grab your own as you go to savor another delectable bite. You look up at the man across from you. “I’m getting jealous sweetie.” A fake pout appears on his face and you begrudgingly set down the meal.

“Sorry but this is delicious.” You praise whoever created such a masterpiece. He chuckles again as he nods. “What were you saying?”

“Are you free on the last Saturday of this month?” He asks again, you have come to appreciate Sylus’s patience. He never makes you feel rushed to do anything.

You laugh at his question and his eyebrows raise in confusion. “Sylus, you do know who you're talking to at the moment right?” He nods still unsure why you won’t give him a simple yes or no. “Then yes I have no plans whatsoever. You are the only one who forces me from the comforts of my home.”

He smiles then as realization crosses his features. “Right. I have a favor and I never ask for those lightly.” His gaze falls and though his tone is light it’s laced with a bit of melancholy.

“You seem to like owing me…” You tease and he smirks amusement now taking over. “Spit it out already. Would love to finish up this burger sooner rather than later.” He grabs a napkin and gently wipes the corner of your lips as you scowl.

“I have to attend a wedding. I would prefer not to be at this one alone.” He doesn’t give any more details but you have already pieced them together.

“Sure I’ll keep you amused so you don’t have to think about the bride.” You answer and he grins appreciatively. “Permission to punch you when you look dazed and like you're reminiscing on the past?”

“Full access granted if I can call you kitten.” He counters and you frown. “And since I assumed you would say yes because you are a kind person, I have plans after this to go shopping.” A heavy sigh escapes your lips at the thought of having to browse around a store.

“Only because I like you. But you owe me a lot more of these burgers in the future.” You say not looking forward to the events after tonight’s meal. He holds out his hand and you take it, shaking in agreement.

“Thank you.” He says earnestly and you glimpse a bit of fear but only for a second. You pick up your burger and take a large bite, savoring the flavor.

“I don’t like going to big social events. The thought of doing that alone seems even more unbearable. You're a friend so no need for thanks.” You think back to your melt down earlier in the day. The embarrassment you felt once your sense returned and how Sylus handled it. You owed him the same consideration.

You continue eating and once done he lifts the napkin and you grumble. “I’m not that messy.” You complain but he simply smiles. You realize this is how he shows he cares. He is still closed off in a way but his actions show you who he truly is.

-

“Y/N…” Sylus calls out to you from behind a fitting room door. You already feel awkward and out of place, this particular mall being a hot spot for the wealthy. “Can you help me?”

“You are awfully needy today Sylus.” You counter and hear him chuckle. You make your way into a private fitting room, still overwhelmed by how people cater to him the moment he walks in.

It was massive, there was even enough space for a fancy upholstered velvet chair and end table, where a nice bottle of whisky sat. The glass beside it is already half filled, you eye it wanting just a sip. “Go on. It’s fine.” You gleefully pick it up and make a pleased sound.

“The tailor had to deal with an irate customer before finishing my measurements.” You look over at him, now aware of the fact he was very shirtless, you nearly choke on the second sip of liquor. His physique was something out of an otome game, one of the main love interests. You couldn’t help but stare greedily.

“Well, care to help me?” He asks again with a sly expression, knowing you were mesmerized. Holding out the measurement tape towards you. “Just need to get my waist. Think you can do it sweetie?”

“S-Sure…” You gulp hating how pathetic you sounded. Thinking way too much about not looking awkward as you attempt to grab the tape from his hand while also setting down the glass, the ice clinging. Your limbs tremble slightly, it’s been awhile since a half dressed man stood before in an intimate space, and he was ridiculously attractive. Even you who tended to not pay close attention could not ignore it.

“You alright? Not feeling well? You looked fine while stealing my whiskey.” He says snarkily but you don’t know what expression he has because you're too busy ogling his chest. You simply nod and make your way closer, trying not to trip over your own feet, the big fitting room suddenly feeling too small.

You wrap the tape around his waist but apparently not where it needed to be, his hand guiding you lower. You swallow heavily, the heat from his body making you shift your weight uncomfortably. You try not to look, but your eyes get drawn to the perfect lines of his abs.

Something takes over you, some force that has been hidden deep within yourself for some time. Without doubt or hesitation you lift your fingers to trace the enticing curves biting your lower lip. You feel the muscles beneath your fingertips tense and Sylus let out a breath, as they journey lower.

“Hah… Y/N what are you doing?” He questions his voice lower than usual. He quickly grabs your hand, halting its movements. You look up at him in that moment, dazed by his beauty.

“You're so pretty Sylus. It is unreal.” You mutter dreamily, those red eyes widen at your words. His expression is void of his usual cocky defiance and teasing.

“Yeah… You think so?” He asks huskily, his grip now loosens on your mischievous hand. There is a sudden hunger in his eyes that you have never seen or noticed in another human. You slowly nod your eyelids droop as you fall further into this strange haze.

“Sir, I apologize for the wait.” The door to the fitting room flies open, roughly knocking you back to your senses. You blink a few times and then hurriedly look at the number on the yellow tape. “Oo my, sorry for interrupting.” The clerk looks to the ground in embarrassment.

“No umm it’s not…” You struggle to find an excuse but there are too many running through your mind to physically voice them. You rush over to the table and quickly scrawl the number into the notebook laying there. “I’ll meet you out there Sylus.” You stumble forward rushing past the employee, your cheeks burning up.

You lean against the wall, your head falling back against the cool concrete. Your heart is pounding loudly. You close your eyes trying to pull yourself together. Overwhelmed by this sudden rush of feelings, catching you completely off guard.

“Seems she got the last measurement for your shirt.” You hear the clerk's muffled voice as you wait. “You wanted a pair of pants, right sir? Would you like me to get those measurements as well?”

“No!” Sylus shouts aggressively and you are startled by his harshness. You hear him immediately apologize to the clerk, you could only imagine how scared they were beside him. “I realized I have a pair at home that will work perfectly. So no need.”

A few seconds later the clerk emerges with notebook in hand, still a bit frazzled. You watch as Sylus takes out a small stack of bills and places them in their hand. Sylus looks a bit disheveled as he continues to apologize and explain when he needs the items.

Your heart is back to a normal pace as you smile a bit seeing him awkwardly fumble in a conversation. Very not like the Sylus you originally met. You stand up from leaning and make your way over to him.

“I don’t think I can afford anything at this particular mall.” You interrupt and his gaze quickly shifts to you. He stares at you for a second then nods, a silent understanding that what just happened was not to be spoken of. It was just a lapse in control, both of you being touch deprived and a bit lonely in nature.

“Not to worry. You have helped me out and have agreed to go so I must return the gesture.” He explains as you both head out the door. You make a disgruntled face but he ruffles your hair teasingly. “No complaining.” You sigh and agree.

As you make your way to the boutique to pick out your outfit he grabs your shoulders from behind and pulls you close. His breath tickles your ear causing a pleasant shiver to run down your spine, “You can be bold when you want to be can’t you kitten.” He whispered, his voice tinged in seductive tones.

“Sylus…” You growl, warning him as you turn around to face him with a fierce glare. He puts his hands up in defeat but his coy expression has returned, and so does his loud laughter.

“Ok! Ok! It is now wiped from my mind dear friend.” He says almost gleefully. You knew he was temptation personified but you knew you were usually unfazed by such antics. Being around him more often is causing you to revert back to your past self. One not hardened by betrayal and pain. What a dangerous man…

[riversenchanted]

PLUTO IN AQUARIUS: UTOPIA OR DYSTOPIA

Many posts I see about Pluto are either dystopian or utopian.

Some are quick to point out that Pluto (power) in Aquarius (sign of the people) signifies mass control and devastations faced by large numbers of people, which I don���t deny at all.

But there’s the other side of the coin as well in which the collective is tired of being pushed around with some even hitting rock bottom, and are now ready to dismantle the old paradigm to move on to something else or even build something new in response.

Pluto in Aquarius at best is the story of the underdogs discovering and utilizing their power after being relentlessly tormented.

With Pluto involved, we first encounter grim conditions that we can no longer tolerate. And then we become ready to knock it down in order to create or emerge in another sphere that is more ideal.

You cannot have one without the other in a world of polarity. And Pluto highlights this polarity.

Once you come to terms with this, you can work with Pluto and even fall in love with him.

You can go into a dark basement even if it’s scary, and face your fears and look them in the eye and even make room for your fears to exist while taking action.

It’s like when Dorothy and her friends discover who the Wizard of Oz truly is.

Behind the curtains, he is an ordinary individual using tricks and illusions to appear more intimidating than he really is.

This brings me to what’s happening now…

None of the tech giants and heads of state who seem to have colossal influence are as powerful as they appear.

They may issue draconian measures to control and wreak havoc on the masses and gaslight them in the process.

But such measures also backfire.

Just like with the recent TikTok ban in the U.S. (which has now been reversed), which drove millions of people to RedNote (a Chinese social media platform similar to TikTok) where Western users are now discovering (sometimes in awe) a new world they didn’t know existed.

It’s interesting that on the same week when RedNote became the most downloaded app (just days before the ban), Meta shares took a plunge.

It was then when Zuckerberg issued a statement that he will get rid of fact-checkers and introduce community notes instead.

The panic on his face when he made this statement was hard to ignore.

Also, many members of congress who voted for the ban invested in Meta stocks, prior to the ban.

One of the justifications for the ban was that the magnitude of data the app collected posed a national security threat.

After digging deeper, I’m finding out that apparently Meta collects more data than TikTok.

These are not topics that are reported in mainstream media.

With Uranus (freedom, cutting-edge technology) ingressing into Gemini (sign of communications) this year on 7 Jul 2025 (GMT), I expect a plethora of social media apps to emerge.

Uranus, the modern ruler of Aquarius, upholds freedom to be of utmost importance.

My prediction is that many of the upcoming social media platforms will respect people’s privacy a lot more and will not censor people’s voices as much, especially as we move closer to the Uranus-Pluto trine (lucky aspect) which will be exact next year.

Another topic not being covered in mainstream media is that Kansas (along with a number of other states in the U.S.) filed a civil suit against one of the most well-known pharmaceutical companies (you all know the name) for misleading the public and using deceptive marketing during the pandemic.

The point I’m trying to make is that actions are being taken to hold powerful companies and forces (that seemed invincible) accountable – this is the other side of the coin of Pluto (power) in empowering the collective (Aquarius).

Just because we don’t see these headlines in mainstream news outlets doesn’t mean that such countermeasures don’t exist.

The more we become aware of people standing up for the underdog and mobilizing themselves (including the underdogs themselves) to take action, the more we can empower ourselves with Pluto in Aquarius.

[voidspiraling]

Time to talk abt everyone’s fav toxic yaoi LukaTill!!! Wait whattttt??

Hello friends have you ever noticed the weird similarities the number one rookie and the ruler of the stage have? Cuz they’ve been rattling around in my pea sized brain for a while now. (They were also my first Alnst ship but that’s not relevant rn) I think their “relationship” with one another is interesting based on the crumbs we have so far. I wanted to look a little deeper at how they relate to each other. Bc out of everyone in the cast Luka and Till are the most mysterious. This isn’t really an analysis just me rambling abt these two.

Anywho let’s start from the beginning and to do that we have to rewatch the sweet dream MV!

This is the first “interaction” between LukaTill and what sparked my love for the ship in the first place (Sorry Ivan! I love u too tho!)

In this scene a young Till is confined in a room and is forced to watch videos of a young Luka. However the way these shots are framed it looks like Luka is watching Till. I say this bc when you watch the full video it ends with Luka burying his face into his knees to escape from the bright lights of the camera flash (it could be triggering a migraine since I think I read somewhere he gets chronic migraines) But when you switch scenes it ends on Luka looking at Till but Till’s eyes are covered.

Thematically I think this is meant to show how Luka is like a final boss that looms over Till looking down on him. Even though they’ve never met Luka has had some influence over Till’s upbringing. In fact Urak calls Till “the ultimate weapon” probably bc Till is meant to be Luka’s foil. Where Luka is fragile and elegant Till is resilient and rough. In fact Luka’s popularity actually increased the rate of pet human ownership. I took this shot to mean that what Luka represents and symbolizes had played a part in shaping Till. Remember Urak was trying to make Till obedient through violence, likely what Heperu did to Luka. We don’t know exactly how bad Luka was treated by his guardian but we can assume from the crumbs that we have that it was bad bad. Like Till levels of bad. I’m pretty sure Heperu stopped Luka’s heart when he rebelled and is overtly like “Luka is only perfect because I made him that way.” It’s such an awful thing to say and somehow as malicious as Urak saying “His talent is what kept him alive.”

So while we know that Till is aware of Luka, we aren’t given any insight on how he actually feels about Luka. But we can assume due to the pressure put on by his guardian he probably doesn’t like Luka and maybe even fears him.

We also know that Luka has had his eye on Till as well. This is the ending scene in R3 after Ivan sang abt his yearning for Till. Here Luka has completed a Rubik’s cube and is staring at the teal and red sides, these are Till’s colors. Teal for his eyes and red from his brand, Till is mostly seen wearing some type of red. I think that even from the beginning rounds Luka knew that he would face off against Till in the final round. I say this bc out of all the contestants in Alnst stage Till is the most musically gifted. (I’m talking abt in canon the actual singers are amazing) We see Till start to sing and write music sheets when he was a literal baby. He sang more than he spoke. And in most shots of Till in the garden he’s playing an instrument or writing in music sheet paper while the other kids played with each other.

Ivan mentions it in his R3 interview but Till is literally an artistic genius. I think his profile said he struggles in everything else, but in stuff like art and music he excels way beyond his peers. That’s why even though his vocals are rated criminally low (like c’mon akugetsu vocals are heavenly what are you aliens on) he has the fastest selling album and consistently tops the charts when he releases a song.

There was also a chart showing the market value of each contestant over a period of time as well as the strengths and weaknesses of each contestant. At the end of the graph Mizi and Sua we’re both around 60/100. Hyuna and Ivan were at 80/100. And Luka and Till were at 100/100 (Important to mention that Lukas graph was a straight line at 100 meanwhile Till’s graph went up and down like crazy before settling at 100). Basically Luka and Till were like the best of the best. The only flaw on their profile was that Luka was fragile due to his health and that Till was aggressive. Musically they were perfect. And Luka likely knew this. I interpreted this as even though Till hasn’t met Luka yet he is still being watched by him. Like a hunter vs prey situation. It also sets up the power dynamic between LukaTill early on.

Now let’s talk abt the artwork of Luka and Till.

Another similarity they have is in this art from the school AU. All the characters have a cute drawing like this with hearts in their pupils looking at the other half of their pair. IvanTill are looking at each other and Hyuluka are looking at each other. But the thing that jumped out to me was that Luka and Till are the only two without hearts in their eyes. If it was just one character I would just think it was a mistake, but the fact that it’s these two makes me think it’s intentional.

Also in this series IvanTill and Hyuluka are heavily focused on, it’s through these relationships that we the humanity of the characters. Yet in the artbook Luka rates his affection with Hyuna at 70% and Till rates his affection with Ivan at 70%. As we the series progresses we see how important Hyuna is to Luka and Ivan to Till. So why the lack of hearts and the 70% rating? Do Luka and Till love in the same way? Are they incapable of romantically loving someone? Do they distance themselves from their loved ones for fear of vulnerability? And why don’t we have their pov of the pivotal moments in their relationship? Like Till’s pov of the meteor shower scene and Luka’s pov abt hyunwoo’s death. There’s so much mystery surrounding them and how the love their most important person.

Let’s also talk abt this merch from Alnst stage. Sorry for the poor quality but I’ll try my best to explain my delusions. So something I wanted to point out is that here LukaTill are the only two seen with flowers and with gore. Luka is standing on a stage made from the corpse of the alien that looks like the moon and has purple roses. Meanwhile Till he is standing in the blood of Freddie the alien in his guitar that he killed, and it looks like green grass. Till has a red clematis flower crown. I thought it was interesting how here LukaTill have this contrasting them in their merch. Life vs death, Till is surrounded by blood while Luka is surround by bone. I think this is meant to show how they both cope with their situation. They both live in a dystopian society and to cope they have to revel in the bloodshed of it all. For Till it’s violently rebelling against the aliens, seen by the freshly spilled blood of an alien, and for Luka it’s about having a reputation of being more powerful than his opponent, so overpowering that they have no chance of surviving if they’re up against him, evident by the long decayed corpse of an alien.

However the flowers represent their softer side. I think at their natures they are actually very gentle people. For Till it’s more obvious that he’s a sweetheart you just need to read his birthday comic to know how cute and lovable he is. For Luka you have to reach a bit bc we rarely see any sides of him besides his ruler of the stage persona. But I think in his interview when they ask what his favorite part of Anakt garden was he said it was playing hide and seek with the other kids. I thought that was uncharacteristically sweet to say. I was expecting him to say the classes were good or the music theory was really interesting. But no. His favorite part of being in the garden was getting to play with the other kids. (I hate that Till died but my heart also feels bad for Luka ;-;)

Another thing I wanted to mention is that Till has a flower crown in his art while Luka has a rose with thorns in his merch art. I honestly thought they would be reversed since Luka is “crowned” ruler of the stage and Till is pretty spiky, pretty sure there was merch where he’s just a spike ball lol. They almost seem to be referencing each in some weird way. This is most likely a coincidence tho since the flower crown is suppose to represent Till’s attachment to the innocent fantasy of the past and I’m like 99% sure Luka is a reference to the little prince. (A book abt a blond haired kid and a rose you should read it you def won’t get depression from it) Still I thought it would be interesting to point out.

LukaTill also share a lot more similarities than even I realized when i was looking back at all the content we have so far. For example, they’re the only two characters we’ve seen play an instrument. Guitar and violin. In their early rounds they both overwhelmed their opponent and won by a landslide. The only reason they’re alive is because of their musical talent. They both got messed up hands Luka and his purple fingertips compared to Till with his bandaged ones. Their alien owners are literal trash who have no regard for their life in anyway (i feel like the other guardians weren’t as bad bc to my knowledge Ivan, Sua and Mizi didn’t have their life put in immediate danger. Meanwhile Luka’s owner stopped Luka’s heart as a punishment. And Till’s guardian just assaults him without any regard for his safety or blood loss.) There’s so many little details these two share despite the fact that they’re just suppose to be two characters that clash with each other. Like imagine if LukaTill was the ship that had more focus in the series. This stuff would’ve driven me nuts!

The point I’m trying to make is that while LukaTill are like polar opposites they are also really really similar. I wonder if Luka is what Till would’ve turned into if he lived long enough. And I wonder if Till is similar to a younger Luka.

Super excited for the next video Vivimeng puts out! I’m going back to grieving for Till cya.

[lavenderprose]

WIP Tag Game

Okay guys it is officially WIP Friday. Document transfer took so so much longer than I could have even comprehended. Do NOT try to transfer eight years of documents via the cloud. It will annoy you in ways that aren't meant to be experienced by humans.

Anyway. We're doing a WIP game I was tagged in by @ass-deep-in-demons. Rules are thus:

You will be given a word. Then you share one sentence/excerpt from your WIP(s) that start with each letter of your word.

My main WIPs right now are:

No Grave (Emmrich-centric Emmrook piece that threads through the narrative of the game. Basically: Emmrich falling hard and having emotions about it.)

Wellspring (This is the new and improved title of Breeding Kink Two Electric Boogaloo--Self-explanatory.)

Concrete Flower (Very tentative title) (Emmrook Pretty Woman-ish AU. Rook is an escort, Emmrich starts off as her client and becomes a friend. They fall in love. There's way more plot to it than that but that's the gist.)

My keyword is: TRUTH

[T] from Concrete Flower:

The Hotel Magistrate was thirty-six floors, thirty-two of which were hotel space. On the top floor was a massive rotating restaurant serving a menu of hoity-toity Antivan dishes, and the bottom three floors were yet more conference space. The conference occupying the space currently was the annual summit of the International Assembly of Navarran Funerary Practitioners. Rook noticed this, barely, as she skidded towards the elevator bank and double-tapped the button for the thirty-fourth floor.

As the elevator doors closed, she caught a whiff of Navarran incense, and thought very briefly of a home she hadn’t visited in years.

After the elevator and a handful of left turns, Rook found the given room number tucked into a slight recess by the stairs. Its distance from the other doors in the hallway hinted at the size of the suite even before she knocked and, in short order, the door swung open.

He was a relatively normal looking person, if one knew and accepted the fact that Nevarrans had a slightly skewed definition of ‘normal.’ He wore a silk shirt with sleeves drawn up by a pair of garters, a waistcoat, and a pair of wool trousers. He also had a brocade sash around his middle—very Nevarran, in a way that hit her with a sudden, though very brief, pang of homesickness—and a truly dazzling amount of grave gold. Rook, whose grave dowry in its entirety was only two pieces, found her eyes drifting repeatedly to the gold jingling at his wrists.

“Hi,” she said, offering a genuine smile and her hand.

“Hello,” he replied, taking her hand as he opened the door further. With his other hand, grave gold clinking, he gestured inward. “Please, come in.”

[R] from Wellspring

Rook is pale and there is sweat beaded to her temples. Every few minutes, Emmrich notices her press her arched fingers into her thigh, nails digging, and he wonders if the presence of the Venatori agent is truly nauseating her to that extent. She shifts restlessly on her chair. Her glass, perspiring at her elbow, is untouched. He clutches his hand tight in his lap and makes himself wait for her signal.

Finally, from the other side of the table, Neve voices the thought he’s been having this whole time: “She…doesn’t look good.”

“I’m aware,” Emmrich says.

“Maybe we should—”

“Yes,” Emmrich says immediately, and rises from his seat with a speed and alacrity that sends a few pairs of eyes turning towards him, if only for the shrieking sound the old wooden chair makes against the flagstone floor.

“Oh,” says Rook, when he materializes at her elbow. She grips onto the hem of his sleeve like she’s drowning and he is the only buoyant thing for miles. “Hello.”

“Darling—“ Emmrich says, at the same time the Venatori makes the unfortunate decision to open his mouth.

“This your dad, then?” he says. Emmrich can smell the liquor on his breath, though he has to admit that he’s near enough for the cultist to smell the wine on his own. He cards a look over Emmrich, from the tips of his shoes to the top of his head, and says, “Oh, more like your Daddy—”

Emmrich, for a red-blind moment, sincerely wants to forgo the idea of a hex. The vision of introducing this man to the end of his staff is violent, vivid and satisfying. The disgust is so strong it’s almost physical��Emmrich raises a hand, feels Rook’s fingers tighten on his sleeve in warning, and manages to mutter the incantation before she yanks his hand back far enough.

The cultist’s head is, instead, introduced to the surface of the bar, where he groans and whines as he tries to pick it up.

[U] from No Grave

"...unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Do you see these crabs?”

“Which ones?” To her credit, she frequently indulges him. She’s a product of lifelong exposure to scholarly curiosity, just as he is. Her being a Necropolis foundling and him being a ward to the Watch since childhood, they are kindred in that way. She seems to genuinely delight in his impromptu lectures, his long asides triggered by small details. He’s always been aware that he is a particularly verbose man and that this can be seen as appealing and grating in turns. Luckily, her opinion seems to fall into the former category, at least most of the time.

He resumes his crouched posture and gestures, rings glinting blindingly in the sunlight, to a trio of crustaceans huddled on the surface of a barely-submerged piece of driftwood.

“Do you see the shells they’re wearing?” he murmurs, leaning close.

“Wearing?” she says as she wades the short distance to him. She leans over him, strands of her hair draping against his shoulder. They are like silk against the back of his neck; rich, exquisite, and something he would like to feel against the tenderest parts of himself. Like the others, he pushes this thought away.

Instead, he offers her an approving smile, one he knows his students at the Necropolis to clamor over, and says, “I so appreciate how carefully you listen, Rook. Yes, they’re wearing them. These shells,” he gives a circular, meandering gesture that encompasses all three of them; mottled pink, ivory white and mother-of-pearl, “belong to mollusks. It would appear that, after the mollusk dies and the flesh is consumed by scavengers, the shell is repurposed by the crabs as a…well, a home.”

“Oh,” she breathes. She crouches beside him, using his shoulder to balance just briefly. He wants to offer his hand, but as soon as the thought comes to his mind, she’s already settled and removed the sweet burden of her weight. “Like little spirits.”

“Yes,” Emmrich says. Then, because that was maybe just a bit too much, he clears his throat. “Precisely, Rook. I, myself, was reminded of spirits housing themselves in the vessels of the dead. Fascinating, isn’t it? The way terrestrial nature can mimic that of the Fade.”

[T] from Concrete Flower

“Tell me about that,” Rook said softly, still fiddling with his button. “What do you like?”

“What most men do, I suspect,” he murmured. Her finger trailed down further, onto the next button. She fiddled at it, slipping it in and out of its buttonhole with a repeated flick of her thumbnail. His stomach, very gently, quivered. “My tastes are rather conventional, I’m afraid. I should think I would like to have you once atop me, perhaps, and then after we eat, I could have you again on your back. Perhaps use my mouth—if that’s something you’d enjoy.”

A grin crawled onto Rook’s face—one she did very little to resist, all things considered, because the moment it appeared Emmrich released a soft chuckle, and she could almost feel it in her chest. He was certainly enticing. It was rare that she could find nothing to like about a person. Rare enough that it had only happened on a countable number of occasions amongst the all but countless liaisons. Most people, she’d found, were grateful, amiable, and just a little awkward about the whole thing. Emmrich, in that regard, was different—already, she found herself genuinely enjoying his company, his odd turns of phrase.

“Sorry,” she murmured, still smiling, “I’m not laughing at you. It’s just…the way you talk. I really like it. Reminds me of—”

“Home?” he said, and she chuffed out a slightly chagrinned laugh. “I know, we’re not really meant to exchange personal details, but the accent does rather give it away. Though it’s faint. You’ve been in Tevinter for quite some time?”

“Yeah,” she murmured. To deflect, to get the conversation away from her and back where it belonged, she grabbed the binder—how weird and cute that he was still just standing there holding like a particularly confused butler with a tray—and tossed it over to one of the couches, where it landed with a thud. When she turned back around, he had a hand on his chest and a look of mild concern on his face—the binder, evidently, had been precious to him. She allowed herself a brief snicker. “We can keep talking, if you like, but let’s get comfortable. Do you want to show me the bedroom?”

[H] from No Grave

“Hello,” she says.

“Hello, dear,” he croons back at her, and even he isn’t sure why that particular word drops from his mouth. It just seems appropriate—she is quite a dear thing. Anyway, she enjoys it. A glow suffuses her skin, seeming to emanate from within her. He rests his chin on his hand and imagines himself to look like a lovelorn maiden in some Orlesian tragedy, lamenting her love from the balcony. “What can I help you with?”

“Oh, nothing.” She lifts herself onto the bottom step, but no further, and chuckles to herself as she bends backwards to sustain their eye contact. “I just wanted to…check on you. I guess. I don’t know, you seemed a little down, maybe? I know we don’t know each other well, but you were quiet after we left Rivain.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” Emmrich says. “I admit I’ve been somewhat lost in thought. It’s been a very eventful few days for me, and I can hardly keep my fingers crossed for any reprieve when there are rogue Gods to contend with.” He traces a swirl in the wood of the railing—life rings of some tree that perhaps never actually grew. All at once, the melancholy creeps back up on him, and he sighs. “The Necropolis is ancient, Rook. As you well know. At times, it feels as though we’re rather…insulated from change. From the shifting priorities of the world above. Amongst other Watchers, one can forget the ire that the rest of the world holds for our practices and magics. At the same time, it’s easy to forget how…splendorous the rest of the world can be. I’ve been reminded of both those facts since joining this team. A reminder I sorely needed.”

“I know what you mean,” Rook says. “When I first left the Necropolis, it was the first time I’d ever left Nevarra. To say culture shock would be an understatement. On top of the homesickness, the regret, the damned…unfairness of it all, I realized I didn’t even know how the rest of the world worked. But we already talked about me, didn’t we? Do…you want to talk?” She’s already halfway up the staircase before he can fully process what she’s doing.

Part of him wants her to reach the top—the dominant part, if he’s honest. He wants to know what will happen if he accepts her offer, if he opens his heart to her on this landing with the promise of a nearby bed.

It isn’t a good idea.

~*~*~*~

I am utterly intimidated by the idea of tagging people and would, in fact, rather chew off my own arm. However, if you want to do this, PLEASE do and PLEASE tag me. Your keyword will be:

FLAME

[pettyrevenge-base]

Sit there laughing at me at the petrol station? I’ll inconvenience you even more.

This was a few years ago, I pulled into my local petrol station, all the pumps were in use, so I pulled up behind one of the pumps waiting for the van using it to finish and move off. After quite a few mins, the driver casually strolled out of the shop in no hurry, despite the queue at the busy forecourt and walked to his van. He could see that I and several other vehicles were queuing to use the pumps. The van driver in the pump next to him was obviously a friend. That driver finished up and the two of them stood and had a chat. They were aware of us waiting and were clearly loving the fact that they were holding us all up, even turning to laugh arrogantly at the guy waiting next to me who called to them to move away from the pumps. This went on for 5 mins more until they got bored of their silly game and drove off.

The moron was a plasterer and had his name and phone number written all over his van, plying his trade. Oh boy. I’m petty, and made a note of his details.

A few weeks later, I called him up and said I’d bought a house in need of renovation and needed a quote to board out and skim the entire house.. oh he was only too happy to quote for a big project, assuring me he was great at his trade and I could not find a better quote. We discussed his availability and he was keen to come and look at the job. I gave him the address of a run down house a few streets away from me that had recently sold at auction, he knew the property, he had driven past it a few times and noticed it was up for auction. We arranged for him to call the following day. Of course, I wasn’t there!! He rang a few times and left a voicemail checking where I was. Eventually, I called him back, very apologetic, said my husband had fallen off a ladder and I had to take him to A&E. He said ok, I’ll re-arrange the visit. We arranged another time a few days later. The next appointment came and I had two more messages from him clearly annoyed I wasn’t there again. I called him back again and apologised, I said I could totally understand his anger and wasted time. It reminded me of the time I was sat at a petrol station a few weeks ago and some idiot and his mate stood having a good ole chat whilst laughing at the drivers waiting to use the pumps. I heard the penny drop! That was when the raging and swearing started, which just set me off roaring with laughter. I made my point, it was fabulous. I spent the next few weeks blocking various numbers sending abusive texts, but he got bored of that eventually. I hope he learned that actions have consequences!

Source: reddit.com/r/pettyrevenge

[whimsyprinx]

currently failing to cope with the fact that none of my friends feel like My Friend

[missus-paint]

mother of mine

[buddiekinard]

honestly some of the shit i’ve had to read about eddie diaz on this thing from BOTH SIDES of fandom there’s like 10-20 people who i trust with him and they’re all my mutuals

[bucket-hat-benjamin]

God the us elections are over and I literally bedridden with how sick it made me (that + exams lmao). I haven’t live in the US for so long, it’s not even my country. I’m stress writing a report on project 2025 for a friend to deal w the anxiety, and she’s writing one for me on Agenda 47.

Help each other in these trying times please

[trashbatistrash]

,

[moniquill]

One of the socialist things I’d like to see ALONG WITH UBI (not instead of) is a government option for all basic neccesities. I am aware that the government option would -suck- and as long as it’s survivably functional, I’m fine with that. When I was a kid, we got monthly commodity food boxes. They’d be filled with food that looked like this:

And in lean months, it would be that and whatever we could get from the garden, or forage/fish, or trade with friends and neighbors. My mom had this awesome recipe for peanut butter balls that utilized the powdered milk, shit-quality peanut butter, and maple-flavored corn syrup that we routinely got in our box and actually made it good. 

I think that these things should be available for purchase at every supermarket, and that the prices should be fixed with relation to the minimum wage. All brands should have to compete with the government option - if SPAM is going to be more expensive than LUNCHEON MEAT in the silver can, then it needs to justify that cost by being better quality.

I want the same thing for housing. I want fucking Commie Blocks to be an option.

This would combat runaway inflation by putting a price cap on survival needs. It would guard against shrinkflation, because a consumers could compare the Government Standard portion to the brands. UBI ought to be such that it covers The Government Option for food, housing, clothing, transit etc. with generous wiggle room for emergency savings and little joys in life. 

Everyone should get their own UBI account in their own name at birth, along with their social security number. It should follow the individual regardless of guardianship. Parents/guardians should have incrementally less and less control over said funds as the child gets older, and should have to provide itemized receipts of how money taken from a child’s account is spent (Similar to what you have to do if you’re in control of an elder’s social security money).

https://www.ssa.gov/ssi/text-repayee-ussi.htm

'Each year, we will ask certain representative payees to complete a Representative Payee Accounting Report showing how they spent and saved the money they received for you during the 12-month report period.'

These are steps that would could easily institute tomorrow be reallocating funding, and they’d have a huge impact on cost of living for everyone.  

This rant brought to you by the fact that store brand canned luncheon meat in my local grocery held fast at a dollar for the better part of two decades but now costs $2.18.

[hueseok]

it was always you.

for as long as you remember, you’ve always had the fattest crush on your childhood friend, jeon jungkook. it never blossomed into something more though, because that’s what happens when life naturally takes it course—you grow up, you move on, and you pretend that those feelings never existed in order to maintain the good friendship that remained between the two of you over the years.

so when he visits you after work one day, asking you to marry him, you do everything you can to refuse, because the reason he’s asking you isn’t due to the fact that he finally realized that he loved you after all this time, but because he thinks he’s doing you a big favor.

or at least, that’s what you think.

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 13.2k

rating: 18+

content: fluff, semi-angst, childhood friends to lovers au, pining au | ft. naval aviator!jungkook + brother’s best friend!jungkook; professor!reader + editor!reader | inspired by purple hearts

warning/s: swearing, potentially wrong medical & military information (i’m sorry but i tried to do as much research i can 😭), mentions of having type 1 diabetes, making out, heavy petting, implied sexual content: oral (f. receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (this is only fiction!)

MINI PLAYLIST: ♫ die with a smile — lady gaga, bruno mars ♫ juno — sabrina carpenter ♫ selfish — *nsync ♫ nandito na ako — benj pangilinan, angela ken

opening note. omg this is my first full length fic in two damn years i think??? certainly took a long time before i had the motivation to write again but i hope y'all like this! to my og readers who still keep up with my shenanigans, this one's for you 🥹💗

“Any questions?”

A boy wearing half-rimmed glasses raises his hand and you gesture for him to speak. “Can we get an extension on the Save the Cat project due tomorrow?”

You sigh, just as several of your students begin agreeing with him and muttering reasons of their own why the extension should be approved. It’s the week before finals, and you’re aware that the class must be packed with assignments and projects for several of their classes because of it, hence the rather last minute request. They look tired and pleading, a complete reflection of how you were when you were the one in their position nearly a decade ago, begging for an extension from a professor who you thought was kind enough to be swayed with the proposition.

You scan the crowd. “How many of you are at least 70% with it, hm?”

More than half of the class raises their hands.

“Okay, that’s honestly unexpected,” you say, pleased to know that they aren’t slacking on your subject. “Does Monday sound good? That’s three more days, to be fair. I don’t want to extend it further because I have to read everyone’s work and you guys know I don’t like rushing it before turning in your final grade.”

A chorus of relief and thanks echoed in the room, all of your students either dramatically sinking in their chair or erupting in an animated conversation with their seatmate or making crying faces to portray how grateful they are.

“Thank you so much, Ms. ____!”

“I love you, Ms. ____!”

“Ms. ____, I will offer my first child to you,” one theatrically adds and you smile a bit, rolling your eyes at students like this one who is now opting to flatter you way too much for your act of kindness.

“Alright, alright. Just get it done and I’m expecting quality work, okay? Class dismissed.”

The whole class begins to gather their things at the cue and you don’t stay there a minute longer after your announcement, exiting the lecture hall to head to the faculty room where you’re certain half of the teaching staff have gone home already. It’s already 8:47 p.m., and all you want to do is head home to get the rest you deserve after an eventful day.

There was a time that having a schedule from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. wasn’t the norm for you. You used to value work life balance so much—it was even a nonnegotiable you used to say in interviews, saying that if you didn’t get enough rest within the week, then the job most likely wasn’t for you. But things have been very different for the past months; you have definitely grown out of that mindset due to the fact that you’re simply in need of another source of income to pay for your monthly rent, utility bills, and now your medication. You’re in a stage of your life wherein you consider working part time as a professor was a blessing rather than a big nuisance.

Making a right turn to where the hallway to the faculty room is, you’re too busy rearranging the papers inside the folder you’re holding to notice a man sitting on the bench placed just beside the entrance. He notices you the second you appear in his line of vision though; he straightens his posture and proceeds on standing up immediately upon seeing you closer, calling your name softly when you failed to look at his direction, too preoccupied with the thought of finally coming home that you’re oblivious that the man trying to catch your attention is Jeon Jungkook.

“____,” he calls again and this time you notice him, your eyes widening instantly.

“Holy shi—” You stop yourself from finishing that sentence. “Jungkook?”

He grins. “Hey, lamb chop.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Is that how you greet an old friend?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

He laughs, following suit to you who’s already giggling just by his presence alone, outstretching his arms then. “You gonna hug me or what?”

You beam and step forward to embrace him. He returns it without hesitation, muscular arms circling around you and squeezing tightly that it lifts you up from the ground for a quick second. The faint smell of fabric conditioner on his clothes enters your nostrils and you feel like a teenager again, warmth rushing to your face while your heart hammers loudly in your chest. Regardless of how old the both of you are, you think your hopeless crush on the guy will forever live on and constantly transform you into a middle school girl whenever opportunities like these to have him near arise. You’re just happy you’ve trained yourself to be better at hiding it now compared to when you were younger.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in base or wherever it is that you’re designated?” you ask, the first to let go from the hug.

“Actually, I returned from deployment three days ago. I’m on leave for two weeks.”

“Wow. Two weeks, huh?”

“Yep. It’s the longest break I’ve gotten in a while.”

“That’s good. Everybody needs a break from time to time.”

“Says the girl has a day job and a night job.” He points out with a smirk; your heart does a little leap at how handsome he looks doing that. “When the hell did you get into teaching, by the way? I never pegged you to be the kind who can tolerate it. You hate kids.”

“You’ll find yourself tolerating lots of things in this economy.” You snort. “And my students aren’t kids. They’re in college.”

“Yeah, which you graduated from six years ago. Still technically kids.”

“Are you seriously jabbing at my age when you’re two years older than I am?”

He rolls his eyes at that one, an indication that you won the argument. “Anyway,” he starts again and you grin, “I didn’t come here to compare how old we are—”

“You didn’t?”

He sends you a look. Your grin gets even wider.

“I’m here because I was hoping to treat you to dinner.”

“Dinner?” you repeat, not masking the surprise from your voice.

Let’s get the facts straight before we proceed to this conversation.

It isn’t a lie when you say that you and Jungkook are great friends. You have been since you were 7 and your family just moved into the house next to theirs. He was a natural playmate, a companion when you couldn’t tolerate the antics of your older brother, the boy who looked out for you aside from said older brother, and the person you’ve shared significant history with throughout your youth that you can never seem to forget nor disregard.

It’s just that you never deemed that you were great enough friends for him to go out of his way and visit you at your workplace, offering to treat you for dinner. Gestures like that were reserved for your older brother, Seowon, who’s the same age as he is and who you’re sure is considered as his best friend. Compared to them, yours and Jungkook’s dynamic shifted slightly after graduating from college. What once was a really close friendship turned into a casual one, with mostly just teasing, light talks, and the occasional welfare checks at times you hear certain news from the other that’s worth speaking directly about.

At the mention of that, realization dawns on you on why he must be here.

“Jungkook…” You’re trying not to sound mad but you can’t hide the exasperation from your voice. “That’s not the real reason you’re here.”

“Of course, it is. Why else would I be here?”

“He told you, didn’t he?” you ask, not willing to drag this out. “You’re just going to give me another lecture that I definitely don’t need.”

Jungkook frowns, like he’s dismayed that you caught on pretty swiftly.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You pressed.

“He meant well, ____.”

You scowl. To remark that Seowon is unnecessarily nosy and coddling would be an understatement. That man hasn’t left you alone the second he was aware of your condition. Usually, whenever he gets into his ‘big brother tendencies’, his girlfriend Winnie steps in and helps you lay him off your back. However, it’s different this time; no matter how much you reinstill your independence and insist that you’re fine, it’s like you’re talking to a wall.

“What exactly did you hear from him?” you query.

He seems hesitant in answering that. “That you got diagnosed with type 1 diabetes.”

You wince.

“Look,” he steps forward towards you, “I wasn’t going to bring it up unless you did, okay? I’m just here because I’m genuinely worried about you and I want to know how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine.” You murmur. “You don’t need to worry.”

“Worry doesn’t vanish magically just because someone says so.”

“Well, it should—because I’m fine.”

“You sure? I heard that you’re struggling to buy insulin among other things you’re having a hard time paying.”

“Fuck. Seowon told you that too? That’s private.”

“My parents know. He just filled me in because he wants you to have as much support as you can get.”

“I don’t need that. I’m an adult. I’ve lived by myself for years. I can fend for myself just fine.”

“It doesn’t look like it from what I’ve been hearing.”

“All you’re hearing is a warped and exaggerated version of the story told by Seowon who won’t listen to a word I say.” You huff. “I’m fine and I’ve been doing everything I can, alright? I’m taking care of myself. I’m going to the doctor whenever I need to. I’m making ends meet, buying treatment for this goddamn disease and regulating my sugar levels all the fucking time. Why do you think I’ve been working two jobs for the past year? It’s because I’m doing everything I can to stay alive.”

Jungkook doesn’t reply, he only remains gazing at you.

“If you’re here to offer me money or whatever because of what he said,” you add, already embarrassed that you can’t even look at him anymore, “then I don’t want it.”

“That’s not what I’m here for,” he says.

“Then are you really just here to treat me to dinner?” you question sarcastically.

He laughs and you dare return your eyes at him, catching him peering at you with a fond expression. “Yes. It’s my way of doing a welfare check.”

“Welfare check.” You echo with squinted eyes. “Well, in that case, here I am—alive and healthy.”

“I can see that, and I’m glad.” He smiles. “But I need more than just seeing you. I need a conversation and an apology.”

“An apology?”

“For being the last person to know about your condition.”

“And we’re still talking about that apparently.” You mutter under your breath. “Sorry. I didn’t think that you wanted to know.”

“Of course, I would have wanted to know. It’s you we’re talking about here.”

Something about how he said you causes your lips to twitch as you fight off a smile. This isn’t a good time to dive into your romantic feelings for your childhood crush, but when he’s letting go of lines like that which are sure to have your heart soaring out of your chest, it’s hard to keep on a cool and unfazed facade. You just convince yourself that he sees you as a little sister and that’s why he’s so worried; you should already be past your ‘delulu’ phase at this age to be affected by such statements.

“I didn’t want to add to your worries,” you reason. “You already have your life to think about. Add to the fact that you’re a naval aviator—so you literally have your own life first to think about.”

“I can make space for you.”

Is he flirting? Is this a normal thing to say between friends?

You blink. “Okay, uh, that’s… that’s completely up to you, I guess.”

“I just like knowing those things first hand. It makes me worry less.”

“Got it. Next time I learn I’m dying, I’ll tell you.”

“____,” he says your name in warning, and you know he’s serious.

“Sorry.” You heat up. “I couldn’t resist.”

“Don’t be a pain in the ass.”

“I promise that’ll be the last time I make a dark joke, Lieutenant.”

Jungkook’s nostrils flare. You prevent yourself from grinning like a fool again in success of getting on his nerves.

“Are you done here? Because I’m hungry and would really like to get going now.” He changes the subject and gestures to the faculty.

“Yeah. I’ll just get my things and then I can get out of here.”

“Great. You’re letting me take you to dinner, right?” 

“Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

“Fine.” You deadpan.

This time, he’s the one who’s beaming at you. “I’ll wait for you here and we can go.”

“Okay.”

****

When Jungkook discovered that you had type 1 diabetes through a phone call with Seowon, he spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, ignoring the snores of his squadmates and overthinking what’s supposed to happen to you now that you had an autoimmune disease which he was told didn’t have a cure. He was assured that you were okay despite it, that there was medication to treat it, and that you had access to them and have been very careful with your lifestyle due to the diagnosis ever since.

He still couldn’t be put to ease though. As ridiculous as it may sound, he had this overwhelming realization that life truly was short, that you had to make certain decisions all the time because you need to adjust to what the universe is only willing to give you. It was funny coming from a person who risked his life for a living. He thinks that perhaps he never understood the philosophy of the quote ‘time is gold’ until he had a loved one on the same trajectory, always one step closer to possible death.

And so that same night, he decided to file a leave for two weeks, effective immediately after his deployment. 

He wasn’t sure what his game plan was exactly in filing that two-week leave. Was he supposed to barge in your life and force you to let him take care of you? Was he supposed to demand why you ended up having diabetes? Was he supposed to act as a big brother like your actual big brother because he was that worried about you? But if Jungkook was going to be truthful, he already had an idea on what he wanted to do in the back of his head—he just didn’t want to execute it because it was absolutely insane.

Until he heard Seowon suggest it himself when they met up at a bar to share a drink together.

“She would never say yes,” Jungkook said, beyond doubt that you won’t be persuaded that easily with a plan like that.

Seowon made a face. “I know. That girl is so hyper independent—she’d rather die than accept help.” He scoffed. “She needs it though. It’ll help with her medication and she won’t have to pay rent for that shit apartment she’s living in. Plus, she'll actually get the chance to take care of her body if she’s not juggling two jobs to have sufficient income.”

“You’re right.” Jungkook shrugged.

“You’ll do it then?”

He took a sip of his beer. “Yeah. I’d do anything for ____, you know that.”

“Even as crazy as marrying her?”

“Sure.”

Seowon stared at him, narrowing his eyes and morphing his expression into a teasing one. “Are you sure you’re not just considering this because it’s a perfect excuse to marry my sister? I know you like her.”

“I don’t like her.” 

“You’re in love with her.”

“I don’t—” Jungkook began to deny but Seowon was staring him down. “Fuck you, man. Don’t make me some kind of pervert who’s trying to lock her into marriage because he likes her. You’re the one who brought the idea up.”

Seowon laughed out loud. “I know, I just can’t believe you’d agree. It’ll benefit ____, that’s for sure—you, on the other hand? It’s career suicide.”

He shrugged. “I’m okay with the thought that she’ll be okay.”

“Because you love her, man.” Seowon pushed. “Why on earth would you consider this if you weren’t? It’s a fraudulent marriage. You’ll be thrown in the brig and be dishonorably discharged if you get caught.”

“We don’t even know if she’ll agree to this whole thing. You said it yourself, she would never say yes.”

“Yeah, unless maybe you’re the one who tries to persuade her.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to buy her a ring and kneel down before her or something?”

“That can work.”

“What?” Jungkook laughed.

Seowon raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how she’s been crushing on you since we were kids.”

He barked out a laugh again. That he knew; it was impossible not to when a lot of friends and cousins kept on teasing you before, especially at instances Jungkook was in the very same vicinity. “We’re not kids anymore and I barely see her though.”

“Still, it ought to count to something. It raises the chances of her agreeing.”

“You’re really cool with me marrying your sister, Won?” Jungkook asked.

Seowon placed down the beer bottle he’s consuming on the counter. “Yeah. You’re a good guy. You’re not perfect, but I know you enough to know that you won’t do anything that will purposely hurt her. Besides, if this sham marriage ends up to be a real relationship and then for some reason, you fuck up and decide to break her heart—I’ll easily know what to do, where to find you, and then I’ll do everything I can to fuck you up.”

Jungkook pressed his lips together to stifle a chuckle.

“Noted.”

****

It’s always been a big wonder to you how no matter how long it’s been since you saw each other, it still feels like no time has passed between you and Jungkook. You think that’s why you can never get over him; he always had this comforting and familiar aura that you appreciate—something that you sought for in every other person that you liked. Maybe it was impractical, maybe it was the reason you can never hold a relationship for more than two years, but unless you gain the courage to confront your feelings and tell Jungkook about it, then you constantly dispel any doubts you might have whether this was good for you or not.

You don’t want to lose him. Admitting that you harbored romantic feelings for him would just make it awkward for everyone: your brother, your family, and then his family. You don’t think you can ever trade his smile, the sound of his laughter, and all the good things about him for anything in the world. 

“Are you dating anyone?” he asks.

You choke on your drink, having just poured yourself and Jungkook a glass of water after the server arrived with the pitcher. You’re in a Japanese restaurant near the university, aware that the cuisine was a favorite for the both of you hence why it’s what you recommended when he asked where you wanted to dine. The place is packed with people from the workforce and students; you’re thankful that you don’t see any of your students within the mix.

“We’re getting straight to it, huh?” you say.

Jungkook smirks. “I’m just making sure I’m not upsetting a boyfriend by meeting you tonight.”

“Don’t worry, you’re not upsetting anyone.”

He nods in understanding. You don’t want to add more meaning to his actions for the evening but he seems glad about the information.

“How about you?” you ask back. “Are you dating anyone?”

The ends of his mouth lift a bit upwards. “Nope.”

“Why? You don’t have the time for it?”

“Precisely.”

“It must be really hard dating when you’re in the Navy then.”

“Kinda. We’re away a lot and stationed in different places most of the time. It can get really dangerous for us too and people don’t like the stress that comes with that.”

 You bob. “Does it get lonely?”

“Sometimes, but when you’re on duty, you don’t get to think about those things.” He chuckles. “Besides, I don’t know if this sounds fucked up or not—but it can get exciting. Flying a plane can be fun, you know. Not to mention that it helps when you’re surrounded by good men in your squadron.”

“You’ve always been an adrenaline junkie.”

“And you’ve always been a scaredy-cat.”

You scoff at the declaration. “No, I’m not.”

“Remember when Seowon and I forced you to ride that ship in the amusement park that sways left to right and as it goes on it falls from a higher standpoint?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But you do, and Jungkook knows you do, it’s evident by how your expression is trying to feign innocence. That memory is your villain origin story; the whole pretext of why you refuse to ever visit the amusement park or ride an exhilarating ride again. Yet you can’t help but recall that it’s one of the rare instances wherein you got to hold Jungkook’s hand when you two were younger, as his hand was the one you were clinging for dear life when it happened while the other was too busy slapping Seowon in irritation.

He snickers, appearing like he’s replaying the scene in his head. “We should do that again with Seowon during my break.”

“Hell no.”

“I thought you weren’t a scaredy-cat?” He challenges.

“I’m not.” You give him a kittenish glare. “But I am busy. I have to send the final manuscript of this book I’m editing to the chief editor next week and it’s about to be finals week for my students as well.”

He fakes a shiver. “I don’t know how you can do two jobs like that, ____. Truly.”

“You work as a naval aviator so I’d say we’re pretty even.”

The waiter arrives with your orders not long after, and you and Jungkook carry on with your conversation, jumping from topic to topic without difficulty. You’re not certain when was the last time you saw each other like this to have so much to talk about—was it last Christmas? Or was it more recent or longer than that? Nevertheless, it feels good and you find yourself blushing multiple times throughout the night, whether it’s because of how his words can have two meanings or how his eyes are staring at you so intensely whenever you’re the one who’s talking.

You like the undivided attention, the back and forth that’s occurring as you discourse, the subtle touches one of you does when something funny arises, how your knees are touching underneath the table. You wonder what’s so different with this encounter that the energy feels so bizarre in a good way? As far as you’re concerned, you’re positive that you’re acting like you always have in his presence—lively, smiley, sarcastic—and aside from the little touches of flirting here and there, Jungkook’s acting like he always has too.

When dinner was done, Jungkook offered to drive you home. You obliged, no longer in the mood to annoy him for you were tired to make the effort. Before stepping outside the restaurant however, you excused yourself to the restroom first, checking your blood sugar with the glucose meter you brought along wherever you went. It’s a hassle but it’s necessary, largely because you’re still in the middle of saving up for the insulin pump that would help you regulate your sugar levels easier.

After administering yourself with the insulin injection you have, you spend a few more seconds inside the enclosed room. You should be past the point of feeling sorry for yourself, but it’s times like this wherein you’re with a loved one that the dejection hits and you wish that you’re in a better predicament than you are right now. You’re close to being broke, you’re overworked, you’re somehow fatigued all the fucking time—those factors aren’t soothing your worries at all. It’s a miracle how you manage to keep an optimistic mind amidst everything.

“Ready to go?” Jungkook smiles at you once you’re back at the table and you nod, clutching your bag tighter against your body and following him to his car.

He drives you to your place, turning the radio on, and letting it play while the both of you sit in silence. You’re both tired and you almost even sleep during the ride. It’s only when Jungkook gently shakes you awake that you realize that you’ve arrived in front of your apartment building.

“I’ll walk you up,” he insists as you’re unbuckling the seatbelt. 

“That’s no need, Kook.”

“Of course, it is,” he says. “I’ll walk you up. That’s nonnegotiable.”

So, you allow him.

It takes five minutes tops to reach the door leading to your apartment. As you rummage through your bag to grab your keys, Jungkook patiently stands there, occasionally glancing around the hallway and even smiling when the old lady that resided in the same floor got out of her room to throw out the trash. He receives a smile in return which you notice and grin fondly at.

“Well, this is me.” You turn to him, done unlocking your door. “I’d invite you inside but you should probably get going. It’s quite a long drive back home.”

“Yeah.” He breathes out a chuckle. “Hey, tonight was fun. It made me realize how I missed you.”

Your brain temporarily malfunctions; you force yourself to recover quickly. “Me too. I had fun tonight. Maybe we should do this again whenever you’re on a break.”

“Agreed.”

You flash him a smile. “You can go now. Goodnight.”

Jungkook nods, however doesn’t move a muscle. He’s looking at you, like really looking at you, his eyes moving from one feature to another, as if he’s memorizing your face or having a hard time arranging the words he wants to say. You guess it’s the latter, familiar with a tongue-tied Jungkook that it takes you a few good seconds before you’re demanding why he’s impersonating a mannequin.

“There’s something I want to say,” that’s what he utters and you almost snort due to your assumption being right.

“Okay…” The smile is still on your lips. “What is it?”

“Promise me you won’t get mad first.”

“Well, if you’re making me promise that then it’s probably worth being mad about.”

“It’s not as bad as you think.”

“That’s not convincing at all.”

“It’s just…” He begins and trails, biting his lower lip, “it’s… it’s why I went here. Why I went here to see and meet you, I mean.”

You unconsciously recoil at the revelation. It’s certainly a rookie mistake to believe that there was no ulterior motive in Jungkook meeting you today. You just didn’t reckon you’d actually be truly disappointed at that—at the idea that he just didn’t randomly decide to visit and be with you earlier until now.

You draw a long breath. “Well, I knew you weren’t just feeling generous and wanted to treat me to dinner out of nowhere.”

There’s a pause and then he resumes. “Just—before I say it, you have to hear me out, okay? You have to let me explain before you berate me.”

“I can’t promise that either.”

“You have to.”

“Why do I have to?”

“Because what I’m about to say is for your own sake. You know I always have your best interest at heart, don’t you?”

You wrinkle your forehead in further confusion. “Can you just get on with it? The vagueness is making me more annoyed.”

“I just don’t want you to misunderstand.”

“Misunderstand what?”

“What I—and Seowon—genuinely think is the best option.”

“Oh, and Seowon is in on this too?” You bellow. “Have you and Seowon just been conspiring behind my back the whole time?”

“Calm down.” Jungkook puts his hands on your shoulders, a chuckle inevitably escaping him. “I’m sorry for dragging it out. You should know I’m high key afraid of you, that’s why.”

“You should be.” You grumble.

Another chuckle, but he’s back to appearing anxious. You want to shout that this isn’t healthy, that you’re close to giving him a real reason to be afraid of you—yet once he blurts the confession out, you’re speechless, gawking at him and staggering backwards in complete shock. Perhaps you would have bolted as far away from him as possible if not for his solid grasp.

“What?” You hiss.

He swallows hard.

“I want you to marry me, ____.”

You don’t bolt away running. You shake off his hold on you though, and before he gets another word in, you’re hastily rushing inside your apartment and slamming the door to his face.

****

Jungkook was your first kiss.

It happened in a game of truth and dare. You were at a party of a mutual friend and when the bottle miserably pointed in Jungkook’s direction, the person who was tasked to think of his dare when it was his pick said that he dared him to do 7 minutes in heaven with you. 

He profusely refused at first, especially since Seowon was in the same party, but everybody began booing and next thing you know, Jungkook was agreeing as long as it was fine with you. When you nodded to make your consent apparent, your friends were quick to shove you both in the closet, some of them pulling Seowon back who was complaining how it wasn’t right to bully you into doing 7 minutes in heaven with Jungkook. They calmed him down once they bullied him into agreeing too.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Jungkook told you in the darkness, his breath fawning over your face. “You don’t have to feel pressured. It’s just a stupid game.”

You blushed.

Secretly, you were hoping that he’d kiss you or touch you. Who didn’t want to do anything with their crush at the age of 15? A lot can happen in 7 minutes. You were aware that sometimes people made out, went as far as third base, and although you didn’t want to go that far with Jungkook, you wanted something to happen while you were stuck in this small closet with him. There weren’t a lot of instances that put both of you in this kind of situation; you wished that you were brave enough to ask him to kiss you or do the first move yourself.

5 minutes in, Jungkook turned towards you.

“Is it true that Taehyung kissed you last week?”

You whipped your head so fast that you might have given yourself whiplash. “That’s—that’s not true. Where did you hear that?”

“During homeroom. Some girls were talking about it.”

Your cheeks burned. “Oh.”

“So, it’s not true?”

“No.” You shook your head. “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.” You laughed weakly.

It was his turn to seem stunned. “You haven’t had your first kiss yet?”

You shook your head again, then realized he might not see you doing so. “Not yet.”

“Want me to change that?” he asked, grinning.

He said that with a boyish grin and teasing tone, but you sucked at social cues (plus, you really couldn’t see shit that much) that you started nodding.

“Okay,” you told him.

“Huh?”

“You can kiss me.”

“Oh, oh, shit—I didn’t—” He was blabbering, about to take back what he offered. “I mean, I was just joking but—”

You widen your eyes. “You were? Oh my God, I’m sorry, I thought you were—”

“No, it was my fault. That was a little out of line for me. I’m sorry.” He was laughing and you felt like burying yourself 6 feet under. “It was a stupid thing to say. But if you want me to kiss you, it’s cool.”

“It is?” Hope sparked within you.

“Yeah. It’ll just be a peck anyway.” You can tell he was smiling through his voice. “Just don’t tell Seowon because he might punch me in the face for kissing his sister.”

You cackled. “Deal.”

56 seconds before the 7 minutes were up, Jungkook leaned down to match your level and placed his lips on yours. 

****

You’re seething with rage, the embodiment of Godzilla, channeling the God of War, Ares, in your body; you harshly press Seowon’s number on your phone to call him and he answers after three rings.

“What’s up?”

“I will fucking murder you,” you snarl.

A beat. You hear shuffling. Then he answers, “you already talked with Jungkook?”

The nonchalance and calmness in his voice drives you to be more frustrated than you already are. “Yes, I have! What is wrong with you? Why would you plant that idea on his head?” You yell, not caring that your walls are thin and that your voice can probably be heard by the couple that lived next door. You’re feeling a mixture of anger, embarrassment, and every negative emotion that exists at the moment. You’re comparable to a bull who just saw the color red.

“____, it won’t be a big deal if you don’t make it to be.”

“Are you hearing yourself right now?”

“Did you even let Jungkook explain?”

“I don’t need him to spell everything out. I know why he’s asking me to marry him.”

“Then you know too that it’d be good for you.”

“Marrying him won’t be good for me.”

“Why not?”

“It just won’t!”

“You’ll get health insurance benefits that you don’t get with your current jobs. You can pay less rent once you move in at Jungkook’s place—there’s a huge chance he won’t even let you pay him while you stay there too. He’s away most of the time anyway, so staying there wouldn’t be a problem. Plus, you can start studying for a masters degree like you’ve always wanted.”

You groan. “Not like this. This is crazy.”

“The both of you can divorce once you’ve saved up a little. It really isn’t that complicated.”

“It’s a sham marriage!”

“It’s a sham marriage with Jungkook.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

“Are you sure? Your grade school diary might disagree.”

“Oh my God, that’s fucking low of you to bring that up. You just gave me another reason to hate you.” You stomp around the living room, acting like a teenager because of your brother’s behavior. This isn’t the first time he revealed that he’s read your diary before; that doesn’t mean it’s less infuriating to be reminded that he has. “I swear, you better fucking sleeping with one eye open tonight. I’m choking you to death.”

Seowon laughs out loud. “Just marry him. He’s surprisingly amicable with the idea.”

“That’s because you’re pressuring him! I bet you and Mom devised this entire thing together.”

“Mom doesn’t know. To be fair, she’d probably have the same reaction as you. It’s all me and Jungkook.”

“Wow. You have two brains and yet none of you thought this was goddamn stupid?”

“It’s not stupid. It’s genius if you come to think of it,” he says. “Jungkook just wants to help you, dude. He wants to make sure you’ll be okay and all that shit. You’re the reason he filed for a two-week leave, did he tell you?”

Your heart does that jumping thing again. “No.”

“Well, he did. He’s on a break for two weeks because he wants to convince you to marry him and actually marry you within that time frame.”

“This is nuts.” You sigh, finally flopping down the sofa and rubbing your face with your free hand. “The both of you are nuts. How are you okay with this?”

“It’s Jungkook. I trust him. Don’t you?”

“Of course, I do, I just—” you cut yourself off and frown, “I just feel like it’s unfair for him. I’m marrying him because of military spouse benefits and what does he get?”

There’s a long pause, and you almost check your phone to see whether Seowon has already hung up on you or not.

“It’s better that Jungkook answers that question,” he tells you finally.

“Why? You can’t answer it on behalf of him?”

“Something like that.” You can imagine him shrugging. “All I know is that he’s genuinely concerned about your health and your financial status right now. So, just think about it, okay?”

“God, fuck it, fine. I’ll think about it.” You grimace.

You hang up and glance at the door.

You don’t think the conversation you just had with Seowon took that much time. The initial rush you had upon having your longtime crush propose to you is wearing off and you’re realizing that it was a dick move to literally slam the door right in Jungkook’s face earlier, leading you to stand up from your seat and look through the peephole to check if he’s still there.

He isn’t, which you sigh in relief at.

As you lean against the door and regulate your breathing, you think how funny it is that Seowon is right about one thing—and that was grade school you would have been delighted at the thought of getting married to Jungkook. He’s your dream guy; your parents loved him, his parents loved you, the both of you got along very well, and his personality and looks are everything that you’re looking for in a partner. It sucks that you live in a world where the only reason he wants to marry you is because he’s afraid you’ll die because of self-neglect. 

Your phone pings and you unlock the screen to look at the message that flashes on it.

Jungkook: hey, seowon just messaged me to say that you two already talked Jungkook: i’m sorry for jumping on you with a topic like that… Jungkook: i’m shit at confrontation lol Jungkook: also it’s the first time i’m proposing so give me some slack

You scoff at his audacity to joke about it this soon.

You: it’s okay You: i’m sorry too for what i did You: the answer is no btw

Jungkook: already??? Jungkook: let’s talk about it first

You: no need You: i don’t want to marry you

Jungkook: oof that’s harsh

You: sorry not sorry?

He doesn’t respond and you think you’re safe. Maybe Jungkook does take no for an answer and you’re confused because you’re a little disappointed that he’s not falling on his knees, begging you to marry him like what your imagination is supplying you.

However, after you took a shower and went to check your phone again, you see that Jungkook messaged you a few minutes ago in response to your last message.

Jungkook: give me 10 days and i’ll change your mind

You have the urge to go take a shower again because of how hot your body is feeling at the statement.

You: hate to break it to you but you’re not matthew mcconaughey

Jungkook: 🤣🤣🤣

****

It’s not part of Jungkook’s branding to chase a woman. Typically, women chase him; they chase him in every city and country that he gets stationed in, flirting with him and hoping that they’ll get the chance to take him home for the night for a mindblowing one-night stand. They never succeed though, for despite their pretty faces and sultry gestures, Jungkook only smiles and declines every offer, saying that he had a girl waiting back home that he loved very much.

He used to think that he only used that as an excuse because he’s not the type to hook up with every attractive girl he meets. There are times when he succumbs, when he gives into the temptation of a little fun, especially after a life threatening or highly stressful mission—but most of the time, he thinks he declines and use that pronouncement of his because his mind reverts him to the idea of you, to what would happen if he just gained the balls to ask you out.

Evidently, although asking you out and asking you to marry him are two completely different things, he’s a bit afraid that your answer will always be a hard no. It’s what you’ve been literally spelling out to him since the day he presented the idea, regardless of how he’s trying his best in swooning you or explaining how this is the perfect plan to help you gain an upper hand with your diagnosis.

“I’ll file a restraining order against you, I’m serious,” you say to him when he appears yet again outside the faculty room, waiting for you to gather your things and head home. You’re wearing a white button up shirt and pinstripe wide leg trousers, an outfit combination that he ogles at before he goes down to business.

“You wouldn’t.” He glares at you. He gestures for you to let him take your backpack, and despite what you said, you let him. “Also, what the fuck is in this thing? You’ll break your back if you keep using this.” He swings your backpack on one shoulder.

You laugh. “My laptop, its charger, a couple of notebooks, books, pens, then the outputs of my students.”

“Aren’t they supposed to submit virtually? What happened to Google Classroom?”

“I still use it, but sometimes I like to have their work printed out so I can write the comments better. How do you know Google Classroom?”

“I have a squadronmate whose kid uses it for class.”

“Ah.” You nod in understanding.

You two continue walking forward.

This has been your program for the past few days. Jungkook goes to the university you work at, he’ll wait outside, you’ll threaten him with something ridiculous, he’ll take your bag, he’ll offer to take you to dinner, you’ll decline, and then he’ll drive you home anyways. Before that routine ends, he’ll lean on your door frame and give you his best puppy eyes, asking you to marry him for the sake of your welfare, and you’ll scowl at him, insisting that you don’t need his help to survive.

“Dinner?” he asks, right on schedule.

You glance at him. “No. I want to go home and sleep for 12 hours.”

“Busy day?”

“Yep.”

“You know, if you marry me, you won’t have to work two jobs and overexert yourself.”

He doesn’t need to turn to you to know that you’re giving him a dirty look. “I won’t marry you, Jungkook.”

“Why not?”

“Because marriage doesn’t work that way.”

“It does. Billionaires do it all the time. The mafia does it too. It’s always been some kind of transaction.”

“Well, if I marry you, what do you get?”

“The assurance you’re taken care of.”

“That’s cheesy.”

You share a laugh and he grins.

“It’s true,” he says. “I’ll be fine as long as you are.”

He waits for you to quip back a reply, flickering his eyes to you when it takes longer than usual. Instead of the sneer he’s expecting, you appear to be flustered, an expression that is very recognizable for him who’s known you since forever—an expression that makes it too obvious for Jungkook that the crush you had on him that he thought has been long gone was still there. He’s been seeing it a lot lately, particularly when he’s uttering lines that sound flirtatious on purpose; he’s positive that you’ll threaten to kill him when you discover that he basks on the fact that he can still make you all flustered and cute, which encourages him to do and say anything that would elicit a reaction from you. Was it unethical to seduce you into marrying him? He might have to rethink that part too.

Reaching the parking lot, he unlocks the doors to his vehicle and places your bag inside the backseat. He watches you walk around the car, about to go to the passenger’s side, but then you wobble a bit and his attempt to get inside is instantly forgotten.

“Hey,” he strides to where you are, gazing at you as you now hold onto the hood, “you alright?”

You raise your chin up. “Kook, can you get my bag?”

Jungkook doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s swinging the door again and getting your bag from the other end of the backseat while you get on the passenger’s seat, keeping the door wide and placing your legs outside, your feet planted on the concrete.

“What do you need?” he asks, crouching in front of you and zipping the bag open.

“Glucometer.”

He halts. “What does that look like?”

“It’s in the yellow bag. There.” You point at it right when he rummages through a certain part.

He brings it out and you take it from his grasp. Your movements are sluggish but he can discern that you’re doing your best not to be too slow; he’d present to help but he knows that he might prolong what you’re doing due to his cluelessness, so he just observes, noting how you’re pricking your finger with a device and then pressing it lightly to the glucometer which shows that your blood sugar is low.

“Apple juice,” you mutter to him and he finds it faster than the last one.

You grab the juice pouch from his grasp, prying the straw attached on the back, pushing its end for it to pop out of its plastic cover—then your hand shakes, preventing you from continuing and punching in the straw properly.

“Let me do it,” he says.

You don’t fight him, you just slump against the seat as Jungkook picks up from where you left, and the moment he does the job and guides the straw to your awaiting lips, a long exhale through your nose escapes you.

“How are you feeling?” he whispers. He didn’t notice that he was holding his breath the entire duration of the scene.

Another sigh. “Better.”

“Does this happen a lot?”

You seem to hesitate. “Not a lot. Just when life gets a bit too hectic.”

“____—”

“Just take me home.” You don’t give him the chance to lecture you. “Please, Jungkook.”

Defeated, he nods. “Alright.”

“Thank you.”

He helps you position yourself properly on the passenger’s seat. “But we’re talking about this at your place.”

Before you can protest, he closes the door.

****

Lee Hyunwoo was the name of the guy that you brought home for Christmas Eve eight years ago. It was the first time that you did, and Jungkook hated how Hyunwoo was considerably handsome, intelligent, and kind—the exact kind of person he always imagined you deserved.

In the short time Hyunwoo spent with theirs and your family that night, everybody loved him and was already inviting him to the next gathering, all the while Jungkook avoided him at every cost, puzzled by this strong dislike he was feeling for your guest. He was annoyed at the manner in which Hyunwoo had an arm around your waist the entire evening, how you grinned up to him, eyes sparkling and all that shit. Hell, you used to look at him like that.

“Honey, can you get the mango float we have in our freezer?” Jungkook heard your mother tell you, and without thinking, he stood up from his chair and made a beeline to where you were, telling you he’d accompany you to your house.

“That’s fine,” you told him. “It’s literally next door.”

“Yeah, but it might be heavy.”

“It’s not.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

You rolled your eyes and agreed then, excusing yourself from Hyunwoo who was in an engaged conversation with Seowon. The pair were geeking out because of their mutual love for the MCU and the next film slated to be released the following year.

Upon arriving at your home, you dashed to the kitchen with Jungkook trudging behind you. He wasn’t sure what his next course of action should be now; all he wanted was some alone time with you, away from the presence of that college boyfriend of yours, but now that he had that, he couldn’t think of anything that he wanted to say or do. He wasn’t even sure why he was feeling a bit jealous—was it because of that saying? Wherein people are bound to want what they can’t have? Or was it that you only appreciate what you had when you’ve already lost it?

“How long have you and Hyunwoo been dating?” he asked, leaning against the counter as you pulled your freezer open.

“Four months, I think.”

“Four months? And you already brought him home?”

You snorted at his tone. “His family is in another country so I thought it’d be nice to invite him.”

“You must really like him then.”

“Yeah, but I’m not in love with him or anything.” You placed the mango float on the space beside Jungkook on the counter. “He’s nice, and he likes me too.”

“Does he treat you well?”

You flashed your eyes at him, amusement dancing in them. “What’s with that question?”

“What’s with it?”

“Nothing, it’s just that…” you trailed, a smirk etched on your face. “Wait a minute, are you… you can’t possibly—” Jungkook was widening his eyes, ready to deny your accusation once you questioned whether he was jealous of Hyunwoo or not— “are you pulling an overprotective brother skit on me, Kook?”

Fuck, thank God, he thought.

“I prefer ‘overprotective friend skit’,” he said.

“That doesn’t have a nice ring to it.”

“But I’m not your brother.”

“You don’t have to be, I’m just saying that you and Seowon have been acting similar since Hyunwoo and I arrived.”

“Nonsense. Seowon likes him.”

“Oh, so you don’t?”

He pressed his lips into a tight line.

“Did you just admit that you don’t like Hyunwoo?” you asked, chuckling. He was grateful that you didn’t seem to be offended by it.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like him.”

“Instead you implied it.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You kinda did.”

He heard you laugh and he couldn’t help but allow himself to laugh as well.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “Maybe I’m just not used to you dating anyone. You are chronically single.”

“Can’t say you’re wrong.” You snorted and picked up from the mango float, marching back to his house and gesturing for him to follow you.

He did, no words spoken between the both of you once more. Though when you were entering their place again, with Jungkook holding the door open for you, he mentioned something he never reckoned he’d have the guts to mention out loud.

“When you open my gift,” he began, “don’t do it in front of Hyunwoo, okay?”

“Why not?” You weren’t paying attention to where you were going, intrigued by his warning.

“He might not like it. You’ll see.”

That night, at the comfort of your bedroom, Hyunwoo nowhere near but instead sleeping at the coach downstairs in your living room, you opened Jungkook’s gift and saw that it was a necklace with your birth flower as its pendant.

You smiled, rolling your eyes to yourself, and slept with that giddy look never leaving your face.

****

“Not so fast,” Jungkook grunts.

Did he think that you were going to be less difficult since he was helpful earlier? Yeah, he did. He likes to think that if it wasn’t for him, you would have taken longer in feeding yourself with apple juice, so he at least wanted a thank you in the form of your willingness to have an adult conversation with him tonight. However, that clearly isn’t the case because when he walked you up to your apartment like he always did, you’re attempting to lock him out, shutting the door as fast as you can once you’re inside, thus trying to prevent him from initiating that talk he wanted the two of you to have.

“Seriously?” He successfully pries the door open and you scowl at him.

“Jungkook—”

“No, you don’t get to reason your way out of this. I’m done hearing you out. It’s your turn to listen to me.” He steps inside your apartment.

You groan, striding to the sofa and throwing your bag there. “You can’t force me to marry you.”

“Is marrying me so fucking bad that you can’t get over it for health insurance benefits that can really help you?” He demands, infuriated. 

“That’s not the issue.”

“Then what is?”

“You can get arrested!” you exclaim. “And so can I! Does that not freak you out?”

“We’ll only get arrested if we get caught.”

“I’m not willing to take the risk.”

“I’m not willing to see you die.”

You scoff out a laugh. “Who the fuck said anything about dying? I’m not dying.”

“You almost passed out on me. You almost—”

“It’s an error on my part, I admit.” You sigh. “When I get busy and preoccupied, sometimes I forget to check my sugar levels regularly throughout the day. I’m sorry.”

“And you expect to be convinced that you have everything handled?”

“God, I’m not a child. Stop treating me like I can’t do shit for myself.”

“Please, ___,” he approaches you with the most pleading expression he can muster, and he watches as your hard expression crumbles, “just accept my help. It’s really not a big deal—you won’t even see me often, so keeping up with the whole marriage ploy wouldn’t be difficult. We’ll divorce in two years, we can pretend we never got married after that.”

“You just don’t get it, don’t you?”

“What do I not get? If you think I don’t understand something, then explain it to me—”

“I can’t marry you,” you say. You do so like it’s final, like there’s no point in arguing with you because he can never change your stand on this. As he’s pleading with his eyes to urge you to agree, you’re communicating with your eyes in a similar way that’s wishing he would just drop this. “It’s wrong.”

His eyebrows furrow. “This isn’t the time to go on your high horse and decide what’s wrong and what’s not. It’s a fraudulent marriage—of course, it’ll be wrong to some degree.”

“No, I mean…” You turn away from him, rubbing your face in exhaustion. “It’d be wrong of me to marry you. I’m taking advantage of you if I do, and I don’t like that.”

Jungkook shakes his head, frustration worsening at the childlike excuse. Surely, you weren’t that naive, were you? “You’re not. I’m not doing this against my own will. Besides, we get extra pay just for being married. If it makes you feel better, I won’t split it with you.”

“That won’t make me feel better.”

“Then what will?”

You flop down on the coach and lean back, closing your eyes. He knows he’s being a pain in the ass but he can’t just stand here and do nothing. He thinks he’s already come too far in convincing you, he isn’t going to back out now. Every single day spent together, he can feel you warming up to the idea of marrying him for health insurance. Your connection and entirety of your relationship has been off the charts recently that it’ll be harder for him not to be assured that before he leaves for his job, you’ll be taken care off.

Jungkook goes to the spot beside you, sitting down. Your knees bump together, he keeps on gazing at you, waiting for you to focus on him; a minute passes and his gaze moves to your hand that’s laying on the small space between you.

Without overthinking, he stretches out and clasps it, allowing his fingers to play with yours that finally captures your attention. The moment he glances up, he sees that you’re staring at him and he doesn’t let go, he even smiles, a quiet promise that he’s always willing to listen to whatever you want to tell him.

You hesitantly smile back. “You know,” your eyes train back to your intertwined fingers, Jungkook reveling in the warmth of your skin, gaining more confidence in acting out his feelings, “there was a time wherein I would have said yes immediately if you asked me to marry you.”

He smirks, can’t deny how hearing that inflates his ego a bit although this route in the conversation isn’t where he expected to go. “What changed?”

“For one, I grew up.”

“Ouch.”

You laugh. Then you stay quiet for a while before speaking. “Can I confess something?”

That piques his interest. “Anything.”

“But you have to promise not to make fun of me.”

“That’s impossible.” He teases. “What is it?”

You stall, readjusting your position so that you can directly face him. Jungkook doesn’t let go of your hand, he keeps it in his grasp, his thumb rubbing along the expanse of your knuckles.

“I like you, Jungkook. I really really do,” you finally say and he blinks, startled.

It shouldn’t surprise him, considering that it’s been long established that he knew of your crush already, though he doesn’t seem to have anticipated for you to boldly admit it when all these years, it’s only been some kind of unspoken understanding that neither of you downright acknowledged.

You continue speaking. “In fact, I like you so much that maybe it developed into love at some point—I’m not sure. I’m at this stage of no longer being afraid of what I feel, I think? Most of the time, I just let it occur like it’s something so natural. Like it’s a feeling that I can never get away from? Like whatever I do, there’s no way to shake you.” You chuckle half-heartedly. “Though never in a million years would I have thought that I’d confess all of this. What for anyway? I don’t want you to be burdened with what my teenage heart couldn’t rub out.”

His mind is racing; hundred thoughts, hundred scenarios, hundred experiences he’s spent with you since the day you met. Jungkook never realized how much he needed you to say that you liked him—that maybe you even loved him—until he heard it from your very mouth that you did, causing every inhibition and doubt he had to vanish. Now, he only wants to engulf you in an embrace and shout Yes, I feel the same way! Sorry for being a fucking corward and not doing this first!

He would have done all of that in a flash if it didn’t appear that you still had something to say. Based on your rather constipated posture and the hand he’s holding that’s becoming clammy, he discerns that you’re just in the first part of what you wanted to admit.

“Actually, that’s also why I can’t let myself marry you,” you say. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I don’t know… it feels really icky somehow. I feel like I’m holding you hostage, or that I’m tricking you because of an ulterior motive, or that I’m defying the laws of the universe by having the chance to marry you. I’m not sure. I just know that I don’t want to marry you if it means I’ll only get to do so because you think you’re doing me a huge favor. I don’t want to be your charity case, Kook—I deserve to be more than that, you know? I’m not traditional or whatever but if it’s not for love, I’m not keen on getting married.” You abruptly pull away from his clutch, embarrassment washing on your features by what you stated. “Plus, two years might not be that long but what happens when you meet someone and you like her? How can you explain that you’re only married to me because I need it for my medication? It’ll just be unnecessarily messy. I don’t want to hold you back from those kinds of things. I don’t want to be a hindrance.”

That’s his cue. That’s when he knows he’s supposed to kiss you and take your breath away, to admit that he’s certain that he has loved you since that one time when he was in the Naval Academy and although the training was hard as fuck, the thought of you gave him strength and he didn’t want to see anyone as much as he wanted to see you after—that when you and Seowon visited him, that familiar urge to have you alone was all he felt the entire time, solidifying the idea that perhaps he didn’t just see you as a friend.

“You’re unbelievably dense, ___,” he murmurs, smirking at the play of events, and you glance at him, expression showing disbelief that he’s somehow treating this matter lightly.

“What?”

“Do you honestly think I go around and offer marriage to every woman out there who can benefit from being a military spouse? Do you think I’m that generous? I’m not. I wouldn’t ask anyone to marry me for the same reason if they weren’t important to me—or if I didn’t like them. I’m not that much of a saint,” he adds. “I mean, I’m taking a two-week break to convince you to marry me. I’m spending time with you every single day. I’m driving for almost an hour and a half, enduring the traffic to get from my apartment to the university you work in to do that—and you think this is because I want to be charitable?”

Silence. Your forehead wrinkles. He thinks you’re still not getting the point.

“I’m in love with you, ____,” Jungkook says.

Your breath hitches in your throat. You’re opening your mouth, then closing it, then opening it again, then pressing it into a thin line. He thinks you look cute, being taken aback like this, and he’s wishing that he’s done this sooner so that the last five days of him chasing you around like a lost puppy was spent with talking more about what’s possibly waiting for yours and his relationship next.

“Are you serious?” you ask after what seems like forever. “Or are you just saying that because you’re that desperate to have me on board with the whole fraudulent marriage thing?”

“God—” He’s inching closer to you now, laughing, watching your lips twitch at his reaction— “I’m convinced that you were born into this earth to drive me fucking crazy.”

And just like that, he no longer restrains himself from kissing you.

It takes you a few good seconds before you will yourself to move. You can’t seem to process the reality of Jungkook admitting that he was in love with you and then taking the liberty to plant his lips on yours. You’re not complaining, of course, but you are a bit overwhelmed that it literally makes you freeze, unaware of what you’re supposed to do now that your fantasies are coming into life.

However, once you feel him angle his head to the side, doing so to deepen the kiss, your reflexes kick in and you’re kissing him back, encircling your arms around his neck and leaning towards him, Jungkook sighing in what appears to be relief. He grips your hips to support you as you try to straddle him, but your movements are so clumsy that you end up sprawling against his chest instead, perched on a leg of his that provides pleasure on the spot you need him the most. He chuckles at your lack of gracefulness, gliding his lips to your cheek and down to your jaw, nipping.

“This okay?” he whispers with a palm drifting to your bottom.

You nod and Jungkook’s mouth is back on yours in an instant. He squeezes your ass, takes his time in fondling with it, cheekily slapping whenever you get brave yourself and push your tongue past his lips, before he skims his hand lower to your thigh and signals for you to mount him. Upon being properly sat on his lap, you get an immediate feel of his hard length through his jeans, prompting your imagination to run wild and induce the filthiest things he can do to you if neither of you stops.

“Holy shit,” he curses, your kisses roaming to the base of his throat where you lap and suck.

It becomes a dirty pattern for a while. The both of you will take a brief pause from making out to remove a piece of clothing or kiss every other exposed skin there is: the cheek, the jaw, the neck, the collarbones, the shoulders. Then one of you hauls the other back for another passionate kiss, hands skating everywhere on your bodies, sounds of arousal echoing inside the room; you’re starting to get lightheaded but you’re positive it’s not because of your sugar levels running low.

“I hate that it took us so long to get to this point,” he mutters.

You grin. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m the man—I should have confessed long ago.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know. ‘Was afraid to lose you, I guess.” He draws his head back and admires your blissed out expression. “But then when Seowon told me you had diabetes, I panicked and thought that I might lose you either way.”

You go back to making out, Jungkook guiding your hips in grinding on his clothed length. It’s addictive—the intimate feel of him, how he’s not shy in making sure you know how much he’s craving to be as close to you as you are to him. You think you can spend the whole night just doing this and be okay with it.

“Fuck, Kook,” you groan against his mouth, a hand descending to his stomach and to his manhood, “you’re so… so fuckin’ hard.”

You’re palming him now, tracing the erection evident under his boxers.

He lets out a grunt. “Yeah, baby, I know.”

“Do you… do you want me—” You’re breathless, not able to continue whatever it is that you want to say.

He understands you just fine though. “No.” He shakes his head. “Don’t do anything.”

You’re not sure what Jungkook means by that. How are you supposed to do nothing when you want to do everything to him? You soon comprehend what he means when he guides you to lay down on the sofa, when his lips skim lower and lower, passing your breasts, giving them the attention they deserve, until he goes lower than that and discards your underwear, kissing you in between your legs.

It’s like he’s releasing all the pent up emotions he’s been keeping all these years. His tongue and fingers are relentless, his voice is telling you that he’s eager to coax an orgasm out of you, and as he lifts himself up to return to his previous position, face hovering yours, you’re positive that he’ll get everything he wants because without a doubt you’ll give him everything he wants from you too. Hell, if he uses this opportunity to ask you to marry him again, you might answer yes straight away, no longer bearing in mind the worries you expressed to him earlier.

Although did that even matter anymore? Jungkook said he loved you. He said you drove him crazy. You never thought you’d come to see the day he’d utter those words but here you are. The man of your dreams is kissing you, pleasing you, and looking damn enthusiastic as he does all of that.

“Last chance to stop me,” Jungkook teases. His eyes are glassy and you can feel his cock nudging on your thigh.

You giggle, bringing his head closer to press another long kiss on those pink and plump lips of his. “Please never stop.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“I’m going to take you up on that.”

“Please do.”

After this night, you’re certain that you’ll never allow yourself to be with another man aside from Jungkook. At the back of your head, you always thought that you were his, regardless if that wasn’t true or that there was no real relationship to prove that—however, at this moment, as he thrusts in and out languidly, you unquestionably know that you are. You belong to him now and he belongs to you; he lets you know through his love-filled gaze, his passionate kisses, and the manner wherein he moans your name.

“I love you,” he says, like he’s still in deep longing for your touch and affection.

You hum, tangling your fingers through the strands of his hair. “I love you, Kook.” You stare at his eyes. “I can’t remember a time I didn’t.”

A boyish grin erupts on his features.

Time passes by quickly. In a few more of his kisses, of the intoxicating slam of his hips, of his seductive whimpers, you’re coming beneath him, Jungkook pulling out and jerking his length until he too comes, his seed landing on the base of your tummy. You have the nerve to giggle at that, grinning at him with low-lidded eyes, and Jungkook hastily wipes his cum off your skin, attacking you with another passionate kiss that leaves you breathless.

“There’s no way you’re not marrying me after this,” he murmurs.

You teasingly graze your teeth on his bottom lip. “I’ll think about it.”

He groans. “Don’t think about it. Just say yes.”

“At least let me sleep on it, Kook.”

“Fuck—fine.” He grabs your sides and pulls you flush against his body. “Guess I’ll have to keep on convincing you until you agree.”

****

“God, why is this so difficult?” Jungkook whines, keeping you in his embrace, head tucked between your cheek and shoulder.

The air is very humid and Jungkook’s in his naval aviator uniform, which doesn’t look cool in a sense that air is properly flowing through the material. He doesn’t care though, doesn’t care that it’s sticking to his skin as he refuses to let you go, not even when you complain playfully.

“Kook, I’m fucking sweaty.”

“I don’t care.”

You laugh. 

He’s leaving to return to his duty and you’re here with him outside the base before he enters, being with him until the last possible minute because that’s how much of a good wife you are.

Yes, you and Jungkook did get married. Three days ago in fact, at the city hall’s courtroom. Neither of you invited your parents; they didn’t know about the occasion and you refused to tell them, afraid that they may be critical about yours and his choices when they discover the true reason why you’re rushing to be wed. The only people that remained to be aware of it was Seowon and his girlfriend, Winnie, who served as the witnesses, which was fine by you. In your understanding, this was just for the papers and your health, and not the real deal yet to be celebrated lavishly.

“I’ll propose to you again after a couple of years,” Jungkook promised after the ceremony. “Let’s renew our vows and I’ll give you an amazing wedding.”

You would have told him that there was no need, but who were you kidding? You did want a proper wedding with Jungkook. The previous week didn’t even feel like you were newlyweds. Yes, the both of you compacted all of the dates you could have if one of you weren’t such a chicken in five days, and yes, though the honeymoon stage was experienced and practiced—it was only because you were a new couple who after years of hiding their feelings for one another, was now finally free to express it as much as they desired.

“Call me everyday?” you ask when he finally pulls back, Jungkook pecking your lips one more time.

“Definitely.” He smiles. “Visit me whenever possible?”

“Of course.” You kiss him too.

His smile transforms into a grin. “Take care of yourself, alright? Keep me updated all the time. No sugarcoating allowed.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

Rolling his eyes, he gives you another kiss and engulfs you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground that causes you to giggle.

“Okay, pack it up, love birds!” Seowon shouts.

The two of you turn to your brother who’s leaning on his car, the vehicle that was used to transport the three of you today. You’re still in the middle of moving your belongings at Jungkook’s place and Seowon was kind enough to volunteer helping, always dubious that you could do stuff on your own. Despite your reluctance, you let him assist you, mostly because you’re trying to make a conscious effort in not upsetting him again.

Let’s just say that when the judge hailed you husband and wife at the civil wedding, Seowon wasn’t thrilled to see that the kiss shared between you and Jungkook wasn’t as fake as the supposed sham marriage, leading him to the conclusion that in the middle of Jungkook’s ruse of convincing you to be his wife, something must have happened that led to your approval and that rather 18+ rated kiss. Mostly though, he’s just offended that neither of you thought of telling him that you were an official couple before the wedding.

Jungkook unwillingly places you down.

“I think I need to go,” you say.

He nods with a sigh. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

“Call you tomorrow?”

“Yes.” You affectionately caress his cheek, bringing his face down for the very very very last kiss. 

He leans into it. “Fuck, I don’t want to leave.”

“Seriously—hurry up!” Seowon shouts and you pull back.

“I will kill him,” you tell Jungkook.

“He’s your brother,” he says. “And now, my brother-in-law, so I can’t let you do that.”

“That might be your very first red flag, Jungkook, insinuating that you’re choosing my brother over me.” You cross your arms. “Tell me, if the both of us were drowning, would you save me or Seowon?”

“You,” he answers without missing a beat.

You narrow your eyes. “Is that the truth?”

“Of course. Seowon would probably undrown himself anyway and you’re shit at swimming. It’s an easy choice.”

You punch him hard on the shoulder and he feigns hurt, snickering. “For the record, I don’t think anyone can ‘undrown’ themselves—but fine, you pass the test.”

Jungkook faces Seowon’s direction and does a final salute, your brother returning it swiftly, and just like that, you and him share your last farewells. You watch as he goes through the entrance of the base and sends you a wave of goodbye; you weakly copy the gesture and stand there for a few seconds, just watching him fade from your view the further he trudges inside. You don’t think saying goodbye to him ever felt this heavy, and you blame it on the fact that after all this is the first time you’re saying goodbye to him with the assurance that he loves you too—and that alone weighs millions.

You spin on your heel and go to Seowon who’s already in the driver’s seat. As soon as you get in and wear your seat belt, he’s giving you a dirty look.

“What?” you ask.

“Please never do that in front of me again.”

His statement makes you smirk. “Why? Didn’t you want this?”

“Want what?”

“Me and Jungkook to be together.”

“When on earth did I say that?”

“You previously admitted that you were lowkey playing cupid by suggesting that Jungkook marry me for health insurance.”

A short pause. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I have to watch you two reenact a porno every fucking time.”

“We’re not—”

“You are. Don’t deny it.” He grumbles. “God, every time I see you two, it’s like I’m Ross from that one Friends episode where he accidentally sees Monica and Chandler doing it from the window of his apartment.”

“Yeah, I remember that.” You laugh. “In my defense, you haven’t seen me and Jungkook actually do the deed so—”

“Wait, so the two of you have?”

Your expression drops. His tone is approaching older brother protectiveness territory and you’re quick to attempt diffusing the situation. “I will not dive into that. All I’m going to say is that I’m a grown adult and so is Jungkook.”

He grimaces before starting the engine. “Yeah, never dive into that. I don’t need to hear the details.”

You share a laugh and then silence fills the car.

You press your lips together, looking at him while he backs out from the parking spot. “Hey, thanks, by the way. For driving today, and for offering to help me later, and maybe for also never minding your own business.”

You recall how Seowon was the one who couldn’t stop worrying about you and finding a solution when you told your family that you had type 1 diabetes. Your parents were concerned, they pestered you for months to force you to accept financial assistance from them, but they gave up soon after. Seowon though? He never did. He persisted through every outburst you had; he tolerated your bitchiness and your dirty looks all the time. Out of everyone in your life, you always felt like regardless of how stubborn and prideful you could be, Seowon was worse—in the best way possible.

A crooked smile illuminates his face. “You’re my kid sister. It’s my job to never let you experience peace in your whole life.”

You scoff. “Well, you’re damn great at what you do.”

When you reach Jungkook’s apartment, unloading the boxes and arranging your stuff to its designated places, your heart swells in happiness as the reality sinks in that your life is heading in the right direction after months of feeling hopeless. It drives you to be more thankful to the little things, to the people who were always by your side, to your previous circumstance that although wasn’t ideal was still manageable. A lot don’t get to have that kind of privilege and you promise yourself that you’ll make an effort to find more things to be grateful about from this day forward.

“Oh, I forgot to mention,” Seowon approaches in the middle of you arranging your books on Jungkook’s near to empty shelf, “Winnie wanted to give you this. She would have handed it over herself but she’s going to be busy for the next few days.”

You take the frame from his hand and see that it’s the picture Winnie took of you and Jungkook after the ceremony. It’s in the restaurant that you ate at to celebrate the civil wedding. Jungkook was grinning at you with an arm around on the backrest of your chair, you were leaning towards him, smiling at the camera—and the absolute selling point of why this was the best picture ever taken was because of how cake icing was scattered on your faces, places on spots in an artistic manner like it was planted there on purpose for the picture and not because the both of you were being silly that instance.

You think it showcases your relationship with Jungkook marvelously. It’s playful, it’s sweet, and most of all, it demonstrates how you two are clearly great friends.

“This is so beautiful, Seowon,” you say.

You immediately send Winnie a heartfelt thank you message for the gift and continue to take a photo of the frame, sending it to Jungkook as well.

Once you hit send, you type out a message to accompany it.

You: look how cute we look 🥹

You’re certain it’ll take hours before he replies so you keep your phone again, going back to staring at the picture which is now placed on one of the shelves. It’s the sole picture frame you have with Jungkook. In fact, it’s the only picture that Jungkook has in his apartment, and you like to think that this might be the mark of the new beginning you’ll have with him. Even though your relationship wouldn’t be traditionally explored given his occupation and how he’s most likely going to be away a lot, you don’t mind.

If there’s one thing you really believe in, it’s that waiting for Jungkook—whether consciously or unconsciously—always brings out the best outcomes.

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