#what is free will and why can i do this to myself

[endereies]

I hate coming on this app to talk about insistent drama that follows each week, but here we are again. I don't just wanna talk about the most recent events in this message, but about everything that's happened this year especially.

Tumblr is our space to write fanfiction about three 21-year-old boys from Boston. That's it. I'm not sure what happened along the way, but we have had stalkers, pedophiles, death threats, slurs, and more. I'm also not sure where half this app got the audacity to act like that.

I come back from being inactive to see slurs thrown in a meme post with an appalling reply with another meme at the bottom. That just screams insincere to me, and it's offensive. The slurs were thrown in conversations where it didn't need a place. If you are allowed to say it, then fine. But that language, even if allowed, shouldn't have that much accessibility to an average conversation. To then publicly post that, not knowing the impact it may have on people is disgusting to me. I'm sure languages have enough words for you to use. It's literally the reason we are writers.

To then see messages complaining about the triplets, especially their appearances, also seems rude. They won't see those messages on your group chat and I hope they never do, because it's disrespectful. Calling them names based on how they look goes against all you write for, all you stand for. I can't begin to see reasons why you have a triplet group chat, just to make fun of them.

The only messages I have seen of this gc are the ones that are posted on @thetripouts , but I've hated each one I've seen. I've had no reason to click on them, I am not in the gc. Why would I click on messages that have no context or meaning. But seeing the odd message or so has given me a clear insight into this chat. And I want nothing to do with it. The language is belittling to other members, outside members, and the triplets themselves.

Why do we keep giving it a place to manifest. We don't need any bullshit or drama on this site. We never have. This negativity has caused many people to deactivate or become inactive. Seeing honest and wholesome creators become overwhelmed by the sight of the drama - let alone be involved in it - is upsetting to see.

I've seen people leave due to death threats, I've seen talk of death tossed around in casual conversation, disturbing some people. I, myself, have been affected by pedophilia and grooming. It's a horrible thing to be a part of and has no place on this app. No one deserves to be treated that way. Whether you intend it to be a joke or not doesn't mean you can dismiss people's feelings for the sake of humour.

We need to do better as a community, suck up your shitty messages and ideas when you're aware it causes nothing but problems. If you're unaware or uneducated, please reflect, educate and apologise. It's simple steps I'm sure a toddler could follow.

I'm sure half the people making drama know better, and are adult enough to make decisions that won't hurt another person. Yet it seems people don't think before they post. The Internet is a free place to say what you think, but respect is and always will have a place in conversation. Don't be an asshole.

I say this more times than I can count but let's just go back to writing our fanfiction, because it should never be this serious🤷‍♀️

[loserlvrss]

O͏F͏F͏ M͏Y͏ F͏A͏C͏E͏ 𓂃 彼氏 ꒱ i'm out my head so into you.

엔하hee x 𝒻.reader ⋮ FIVESIXTYHUNㅤㅤ ◞◞ fluff 𝓮st. relationship ────ⓘ mentions of being drunk & alcohol 🌠

⌗ req?naur told u i had a lil something for you ( @yudaies )

“This is so warm,” Heeseung grumbled, stretching his limbs from the denim jacket confining them, trying his best to get it off while still remaining balanced. “Too hot.” 

You looked at him as you rounded the corner, his eyes slit open slightly and an uncomfortable look across his face. It was a sight to take in, but you couldn’t stop staring through the dim lighting at the cute flush his neck and ears had. It also didn’t help that he was wearing a black undershirt, showing off his straining muscles and collarbones as he tried his hardest to free himself.

He’d gotten your door closed within the chaos, back now turned to you—you’re not even sure if he knew you’d made it down the hallway at him until your voice broke through his groans, “Take it off then, I'll help you.”

He turned quickly, clutching at the wall for support and his head from dizziness. A smile crept to your lips, twinging them as a chuckle crawled up your throat. 

“Do not touch,” his hand went out, “Sorry, lady. I have a girlfriend. And she can bite.” 

Your mouth dropped open, “Hee,” you replied, further approaching him, “What are you talking about?” 

His open palm that faced you suddenly turned into a pointed finger, “Baby?” he questioned, “Baby! Did you see that lady? I told her I have a girlfriend, don’t worry.” His hand came to his chest, a smug smirk meeting your gaze.

Your eyebrows furrowed from concern, helping him slip his arm from the sleeve, “Heeseung, how much have you had to drink?” He just waved you off, dropping the jacket on the floor.

“Two,” 

“Gallons? Babe, you thought I was someone random… in my own house.” 

“Bottles—by myself! Are you proud of me? I’m not your lightweight boyfriend anymore, y/n!” You wrapped an arm around his waist as he stumbled, holding him steady so he could slip his shoes off, kicking them to be sort-of against your multiple pairs. “Babe, have you had Sake before? Because we had an expensive one like two weeks ago, and it was so good for being alcohol. It’s kinda like Soju… Oh! You like the peach Soju, the one with the pink cap! You also like pink! Remember I got you that My Melody plush from Japan? We should go to Japan, It was so—” 

You laughed, interrupting his long-winded monologue. 

Though his voice got softer when he was intoxicated, he by no means knew how to shut his mouth, especially not around you. He could talk your head off all night—whether you let him or not—even if he passed out halfway through. 

“Beautiful.” he finished, “Like you.” 

Now you were the one blushing slightly, “Thank you,” 

“And the cherry blossoms were still blooming. You should’ve been there… I swear, everything reminded me of you.” He was smiling from ear-to-ear as he reminisced his time on the island, “That’s why I took so many pictures! You got them, right?” 

“Of course I did,” His face turned to you, lips inches apart due to the angle. You swear you heard his breath hitch, “And every good morning, and good night, and did you see the fancams from the concert? And didn’t my outfit look hot? And I miss you, and—” 

“I love you.” He confessed breathily, “I’m so in love with you.” 

© loserlvrss 2025. 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱. >.< tags: @kstrucknet @k-films @blossomnet @starlit-network @sweetvenomnet @bbangbies @jakeify @greentulip @saxytalks @mystarsohee @chwesun @seomisaho @oc3anfloor @atzlordz @gyuwrites @minkilicious @chenlezip @nctrawberries @luvs4haechan @nctfreak reblogs ─────feedback v appreciated !

[kithtaehyung]

seven days (monday) | jjk

title: monday series: seven days: masterlist | prologue pairing: fuckboy!jungkook x reader(f) genre/rating: m (18+) ; angst , fluff ; roommates to lovers au summary: after a long ass day at work, all you wanna do is sleep. but jungkook has made dinner reservations, and this whole bet is off to a rocky start. warnings: a whole lot of sass (jk and reader), hand holding??, yes that is a warning, jk wears a tank, tension, embarrassment, snide comments, kookie is too fine and it HURTS!!, leather, dance king jk, reader bby is stressed as hell TT, roommates to idiots, anxiety, overthinking, kissing (????), general cuteness bc this jk is a loser and i love him :(((, reader is a queen, i wanna fight this jungkook but what's new lol notes: 7days is back on the menu, chatttttt!!! if you've been waiting since forever i wanna see hands up in the audience hahaha notes 2: just a little extra warning here but he’s unbelievably confident in this one yet a big softie and it HURTS😩 drop date: april 28th, 2025, 9:13pm est word count: 11k🗯️🗯️ taglist: sign up here (i check every entry so read the rules!)

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Monday is gnawing on your final straw.

Meetings, reports, decisions—everything has warning signs attached and you’re quite close to heeding them and finding the nearest exit. Literally, figuratively, and expeditiously. 

Fuck. 

That means you might have to job hunt soon. For two jobs to compensate for how much you’re making now.

Why, oh why, did you choose the condo you did? And why did you pick a condo in the first place? Apartments would have been just fine for your needs and you could’ve been saving more for a fallout like this.  

Well. You know the answer to that first question. 

And it’s an answer you don’t regret.

Thinking back to that day, you still remember the way the lobby looked. How plants lined glass walls, how people occupied various mid-century chairs like they were paid background extras in a film. 

More specifically, you remember seeing a vaguely familiar boy barrel through the revolving doors, dark locks whizzing about and paper clutched tight in his tatted hand. 

Ignoring you entirely, he cut the line just as you were about to inquire about a tour—everyone including the concierge pinning him with disgust. 

“Back of the line, Mr. Jeon.” 

“She can wait, just—”

Your memory spun with that even more familiar last name, but you still couldn’t quite place where you knew this asshole from. 

“—and I have it here. Also, why are you calling me th—” 

“The rent is already way past due. We’re listing your unit.”

“Anj.” 

“Mr. Jeon.” 

“You know I have the money.” He sounded so rushed. So desperate. “I just forgot cus my roommate left—” 

“You forgot for three weeks—” 

“I was helping them move that whole time!” 

Sighing, you checked your phone and determined you were gonna give it two more minutes until you trekked to another building. 

But you had heard a mountain of good things about the place, and that particular day was the only free one you had to check it out.

So you waited. Because anything would beat staying in a cramped apartment with someone that clipped their toenails on a weeping living room table.

“Look. I have two months’ rent right here, plus extra.” Hair still frazzled, so-called Mr. Jeon hastily slapped his paper down before sliding it forward. “And I can even live by myself if I need to.” 

“Doesn’t matter if you have the money or not,” Anj explained, voice as snipped as her fresh bangs. “The unit’s already listed in the system.” 

“Since when?” 

A merciless click echoed from her keyboard, and you knew exactly what was coming before she hammered home, 

“Now.” 

“Anjali…” 

You tried so hard to hide your face.

If anything, you scored a jackpot in people watching that day. Observing the interaction, you wondered what the hell this man did to the concierge to get this pathetic but hilariously hostile treatment. 

“Sorry, Mr. Jeon. You can apply for it again,” she offered with a flit of her hand, “If none of these nice, patient people in line take it.” 

Just like that, it was the final, abrupt end of the battle. The defeated dropped his head back in loss before reclaiming his paper with a sad flourish. 

And to this day, you don’t know what compelled you to speak up when you did. But you will always remember the reactions to your curiosity, 

“What does it look like?” 

Both him and Anjali whipped their heads so fast you froze. While the concierge appeared shocked, there was something in that boy’s eyes that strangely matched how you felt. 

Did you look familiar to him, too? 

A ping from your computer kicks you back to the present, and your rapid blinks make you realize you’ve been spacing out at your desk for minutes now. 

But you notice that the alert’s for the end of your shift, and you quickly wrap everything up before heading home. 

Straight back to the very condo you secured to save Mr. Jeon Jungkook’s ass. 

Sleep. 

That’s all you need right now. 

Beautiful, wonderful, ever-evasive sleep. 

But the only thing you get when you unlock the door is a flurry of activity, wave of music, and skittering of paws.

“There you are!” Your roommate yells as your legs are knocked by his furry companion. “Hurry and get ready!” 

When you shout back a droning rejection, Jungkook splashes the hallway with the most disrespectful tank and jeans you’ve ever seen him wear. 

Fuck, he’s flipping on a leather jacket over his shoulders, too? Your purse immediately slips from yours. 

Nope. He needs to stay where he is. There’s no reason for him to keep walking closer but he’s doing it anyway goddamn it you don’t have the brain capacity for this! 

“Didn’t you read my texts?” 

“No,” you readily admit, moving to reach your room before Jungkook can block your path. 

Too late. 

Damn, his cologne is fantastic.

It almost distracts you from the way he casually leans on your door. And the way his voice drops a whole octave when he reveals, 

“I’m taking you to dinner, remember?”

The butterfly on your heart is shooed away. “Where?”

“Not telling.”

“Seriousl—”

“But we gotta leave soon.” 

Your bed is so close. And yet so, so far. 

But damn, whatever Jungkook’s wearing proves way too enticing. You almost fold on its grip alone. Is this a new scent? Is he trying something different? 

Nope, focus. You want—need—sleep. 

With a sliver of hope, you reach for an out, “Does it have to be tonight? I just wanna be in bed.” 

“I’m not opposed to that.”

“Jeon.”

Wait. Is that the first time Jungkook’s said something like that to you? Sure, you’ve both been suggestive with each other before, but that? That felt… 

“I’m kidding!” He laughs, though his eyes are revealing truer angles. To your relief, though, the saucy reaction is short lived, giving way to a regular yet pitied tone,

“The next open slot is in two months.” 

What the hell? Where the fuck are you going? “You mean I got five minutes to prep for some fancy place I can’t know the name of?” 

“Uhh, no.” When Jungkook backtracks down the hall, his steps are as fast as his corrections, “You have two. And you don’t have to dress nice!” 

“But you—!”

The speed demon is back in his room before you can hound him. 

Muttering to no one, you agree with his last statement, “Good, cus I will not.” 

Well. You know two things. 

One: there’s no way this man is lasting ten days at this rate, much less seven.

And two: there’s absolutely no way you’re dressing up for whatever this is. Too much chaos went down at work for you to care about a fake dinner date with Jungkook. 

You’re going for the food the food the food. Nutrients, sustenance, anything that satisfies the tiger that you are not paying a pet deposit for. 

This better be worth the exhaustion. 

Pushing your door open, you immediately take big strides towards your awaiting closet, already knowing exactly what you’re gonna wear.  

Reservations two months out? As if.

How nice can this place really be?

Fucking opulent, apparently. 

This is where Jungkook meant when he said there was a place he wanted to try? The most expensive, lavish, influencer-riddled establishment in the city? 

When you recognize the damn near estate you’re pulling up to, you regret not caring about appearances and start sweating in your joggers. 

This whole bet is a prank! 

Because your roommate most definitely saw you for a whole minute before you both rushed out of the condo. How could you not remember? He eyed you as soon as you re-entered the hall to join him, and the back of your neck still has leftover chills from his steady staring. 

That whole time he saw what you were wearing and he didn’t say shit? “Kook, what the fuck?” 

“What?” 

“This is the place you wanted to try?” 

As Jungkook rolls up to the valet line, you get an annoying display of long fingers on his steering wheel. 

So you look out the dark window instead. 

“Nah, I just wanted to take you here. There’s a dessert place I wanna try after,” he explains with a smirk, little pieces of your sanity littering his passenger seat. “Don’t worry, I’m paying.” 

Though you’re thankful he’s footing the bill—because you did not budget for shelling out a whole check tonight—you still sputter while taking in all the beautiful, pressed outfits walking inside. “It’s—I would’ve—Fuck, why didn’t you tell me I’m underdressed?” 

They may not even let you in with what you’re wearing.

“Relax, roomie,” Jungkook pips, which stresses you the hell out. “I’m not dressed up either but they know me. We’re good.” 

Lies. He is a liar and the heat behind your eyes will set his pants ablaze. “They know you.” 

“Uh huh.”

When it’s your car’s turn, crisp uniforms rush around as you brace for utter shame. Not even the new car smell that still lingers in Jungkook’s car can keep you calm. 

Thank everything holy that you fixed yourself above neck. That one split second decision saves you a sliver of embarrassment. 

But you’re still in fucking sweatpants and sneakers. And a humongous hoodie. 

God. 

There’s no way this isn’t a set up.

No matter what, you’re holding yourself in high regard tonight. And that starts with greeting the valet with a bright smile as he opens your door, “Thank you so much.” 

“You’re very welcome, Ms. Jeon.” 

Miss what. 

Your manufactured grin has some defects as you nod, gripping your bag as you exit the vehicle. When you turn, you see your current annoyance chatting it up with the other valet, wind pushing your sweater into your increasingly sweaty back.  

Huh. They do look chummy.

Was Jungkook actually being serious?

“Have a good night, Mr. Jeon!” 

“Thanks, Dio! Take good care of her, yeah?” 

“As always.” 

Between witnessing the valet talking to your roommate as if they were friends, and having said roommate’s last name thrust upon your person, you can only stare. 

This is so weird. 

But you click back into focus as Jungkook moves to join you, channeling all the energy you usually harness for professional outings and executive dinners. 

Because even though you don a calm expression, you waste no time clutching his offered arm extra tight. Contempt buries itself in your low comment, “You’ve got some nerve, Kook.” 

“Thanks!” 

“Not a compliment.” 

“Ouch.” 

As you stroll through the grand entrance, you flare with conflicting feelings when he softly pulls you close. Subtle hints of luxury wisp into your nose, which compete with the warm feeling of his body feeling so solid against yours. 

Heavens above.  

Unbothered, he whispers back, “You’ll thank me after we eat.” 

“I look like shit.” 

“You’re perfect tonight, Ms. Jeon.” 

Nope. No, no, no, you will not acknowledge the fluttering in your stomach. Absolutely not. 

“Don’t call me that,” you seethe, smiling at the waiter before you’re led to your table. 

And despite the stares you’re drawing, there’s something else that’s distracting you even more. Something that has your brain swiftly forgetting everything you’ve been fussing about. 

Jungkook has lowered your arms so that he could lead. 

By holding your hand. 

His fingers feel so large around yours, his palm a strange but soothing mix of smooth and comfortable heat. Immediately, you feel a little more relaxed, which is strange considering you should be the exact opposite right now.

And as he guides you to sit in a chair that’s been pulled out for you, all you can do is follow in silence. 

Because your fingers had fit so… 

“Looks like they let anyone in here these days.”

Both your ears perk up before your fingers curl hard and fast. 

Did you really just hear that? Did they really have to say something when you’re in a shit mood? Because they’re the next table over and therefore within launching distance so now you have to do something about it— 

“Well, yeah,” Jungkook pounces before you do, snagging your look of confusion and signaling for you to follow along. When he rests leather forearms on tablecloth, he pins the couple with a cheeky smile. “That’d be pretty shitty if they didn’t let you two in, right?” 

Okay. Staring at long, tatted fingers flexing before tightening into a fist, you have to admit: anyone defending your pride is hot as fuck. 

And Jungkook being the one to do it? 

All thoughts you’re thinking have no place at the table.

The man laughs as he gets up. “Sure,” he scoffs. “Enjoy the meal, kids. Filet’s the house favorite.” 

“You sure?”

All eyes snap to your roommate. 

Scratching the bottom of his jaw, Jungkook looks into the air, scrunching his brows ever so slightly in mock-thought. “Pretty sure it’s the tomahawk, but. Maybe it changed since last week—Eddie!”

Your eyes follow his stare behind you to see a staff member waving before heading over. 

When he gets closer, you realize your roommate called over not a waiter… But a manager? On a first name basis?

Well, shit.

Your tongue pokes your cheek in high amusement. This couple next to you is lucky they just paid their bill or else they’d have to endure a whole meal of Jungkook sass. The man’s partner already looks like they’re gonna raise hell when they get in the car.

“Hello, Mr. Jeon! Always good to see you.” 

Inwardly—and maybe also outwardly—you’re holding in your grin as they vacate before your super petty date can even get the clarification out,

“Same! House favorite is the filet now?”

“Ah, no. It’s still the tomahawk, but the ribeye’s also very popular.”

Jungkook calls out to the retreating couple instead of the guy in front of him, cupped hand bracing his cheekiness, “Thanks, Eddie! Good to know!”

When he shifts back in his seat, he watches Eddie check behind him before raising a brow. “Did they give you any trouble?”

“Nah.” Jungkook smiles at you before settling into his chair. “We got it.” 

You can only blink, conflicting feelings warring in your stomach and making it spin. If you wanted to smile, it’s certainly coming out strained because that guy’s rude comment did catch you off guard.

To be fair, you are dressed up the most casual out of all the people here. But maybe your confidence is also weakened from the whole day, causing anything else to get a punch in. On top of the fact that you would never come here on your own unless you struck gold. 

But that does beg another question. 

Why does Jungkook look so at home this easily? His outfit is casual, too—leather jacket floating in a sea of suits and ties, for goodness sake. How does he do it? Has he actually been here that often?

Maybe it’s the way he carries an aura you have to fight to conjure on your best days. 

“Will the lady be having the usual tonight, Mr. Jeon?” 

Ah. Scratch that.

It’s because you’re the hundredth woman he’s taken here. And somehow all of you have been provided the same meal. 

Just like that, the haze around your brain vaporizes, leaving you glaring at wide eyes. 

So much for protecting your pride!

“Ah, umm,” Jungkook stutters, ears alight with embarrassment. “Not this time—I mean, no.” 

Mm. At least you’re relishing the way he’s tripping over himself.

“Apologies,” Eddie rescinds, looking just as alarmed. Good. “Here’s our menu for tonight, and we have a few specials that you can view on the first page.”

“Thank you,” you answer for your roommate, and you feel avenged when he visibly knows he fucked up. Feeling cheeky, you fire off, “What is the usual for us Ms. Jeon’s, if I may ask?” 

Both men freeze and seek each other before you get your stiff answer, “Ah, umm. Yes, our wedge salad, plain with house-made dressing on the side.” 

“Great.” 

As soon as you open your menu with finality, you can sense the tension radiating from your audience, inwardly proud of speaking out. 

Because this whole bet, or prank, or whatever it is? It is not gonna go the way Jungkook thinks it will. 

Even though a wedge salad with some accoutrements does sound pretty good. But who are you to back down now. 

When Eddie moves away—or scurries, rather—you shoot lasers of disappointment over your dimly lit menu. 

Which Jungkook very intentionally ignores.

But he’s not getting away that easily. If he’s gonna rope you into this mess, you’re gonna fight back. 

“Charming start,” you mutter.

“Sorry.”

Looking up in earnest, you notice something odd about your fake date.

He looks… Genuinely upset. Borderline disturbed.

Well. It’s his fault in the end. 

But is that really the expression of someone pranking their roommate? If it is, he could even pursue acting if his social media accounts don’t pop off. 

Focus. Actually read the words on the menu instead of staring. What are you hungry for? Everything here looks and sounds amazing so it’s gonna be hard to choose…

Your eyes slide over your hardy pamphlet one more time. 

And as Jungkook keeps watching the candle flick between you, something else stirs in your chest. 

Acting or not, he’s quiet as fuck. Which is making you more uncomfortable than anything else because he just lit up confronting that couple for you. 

A resigned sigh escapes your lips. “It’s okay.” 

He lifts his gaze.

“But at this rate, you’re definitely losing this whole thing.”

His laugh doesn’t have his whole heart inside. “I just… I’m sorry. That wasn’t… Wasn’t cool.”

“We’re good,” you assure, your softer side clutching the reins for a moment. “I can play wifey if you’re paying, yeah?”

At this, Jungkook seems to lighten up a tad, though you catch a hint of what you’ll later realize is shyness. “Yeah,” he confirms with a slow drawl. “Get whatever you want, Ms. Jeon.”

“How considerate.” 

“Anything for my date.” 

Your brows pinch for a moment, and you quickly remind yourself of what just happened with the manager. “Rip. I’m definitely getting more than a salad.” 

“I know,” Jungkook replies, palming his menu with a smirk on his lips. “Between the two of us we’re gonna blow my whole stack.” 

“We’re getting apps?”

“And sides.” 

“Wine?” 

“Fuck yeah.” 

“Hell yeah, bro.” Your mouth betrays you when it stretches sideways. But you can’t help it because this is where you’re comfortable. You’re not in an expensive restaurant on a date, you’re just having dinner with your roommate. 

Your very attractive, super sauve, completely senseless roommate.

Pulling at your hoodie, you let your amusement loose as your shoulders finally relax, “Good thing I wore this then, huh?” 

When Jungkook knowingly smiles with lips pressed, you feel like the only one in the room. 

And maybe like you got the whole prank thing all wrong. 

Damn. 

Everything you’ve eaten so far has you transcended into a higher plane. 

Truthfully, you can’t even recall a better meal than this, and the way Jungkook looks while he digs into his ribeye is how you feel inside. Satiated, content, and upset at how good the food tastes. 

But it’s not just the meal that warms your belly. The small bits of talking and joking you’ve been having with him have helped you forget the multiple vibrations you feel in your purse. And the wine has certainly helped relax some tightly-wound muscles. 

“Om mah guh,” you groan, this swallow as good as the last. “Can I live here instead?” 

Your roommate laughs with a mouthful of food. “Mmhmm.” 

“Good.” You reach for a sip of your drink, noticing that you’re both making good headway on all the plates. Taking a much needed break, you slump back in your increasingly comfortable chair before gazing at chandeliers. “Cus I think I just ate my month’s rent.” 

“You aren’t even paying!”

“Oh, yeah.” You beam at shining bulbs. “Sucks for you.”

Jungkook’s laugh could be recognized miles away, you muse.

But good god.

Haughty establishment be damned. Even if one of these light fixtures crash onto a table, you’re still gonna be rubbing your grateful stomach and sporting a drool line.

Another quick puff of amusement shoots across the table, but you don’t get a response because a lighter voice floats above you instead, 

“Hey, baby.” 

Huh? 

Brows furrowed, you leer down your nose before straightening, wondering who the heck is oh shit this woman is gorgeous. And tall. 

Which makes Jungkook’s offhanded greeting so comical. “Sup!” 

The girl seems unfazed, manicured nails caressing his shoulder. “You were supposed to call me tonight.” 

Ouch. Did he double-book your date on a booty call with a goddess? 

A mere wallflower, you silently pull out your phone as Jungkook reluctantly looks upward—and you know in your heart it’s because the bite on his fork was meticulously made. “Oh. Did I say that?” 

“You said so last week.” 

Yikes. 

“I say a lot of things.” 

Double yikes. 

Your lips smush into a line of pity when you see a pair of eyes roll. Emotions seem to blend together in your ribcage now, but you really should care less. This isn’t a real date. 

Regardless of how you feel, this lady could grace the cover of a magazine if she hasn’t already. Why hasn’t Jungkook abandoned your table to follow her out the door? 

“Whatever, I guess. Have fun with your…” Sudden judgment makes you blink. “Friend.” 

Triple yikes. 

Good riddance! Forget anything you were thinking in her defense. She doesn’t deserve him with that sour attitude, and you’re completely saying this as his roommate. And friend. Duh.

You’re about to unleash some choice words before Jungkook simply smiles. “She’s my date,” he proclaims while looking right at… you? “And I will.”

Well.

That gesture was a little shocking.

But it could be staged. Is this girl just acting? Just another part of this bet? 

Nah. There’s no way he would go through this elaborate of a prank just to mess with you. Right?

Right?

Jungkook finally takes that huge bite of his concoction as the woman hums and struts off, and you can’t help but blink at him. Once. Twice. Two more for good measure. 

When he notices your bewilderment, a word is blocked by chewed protein, “What?” 

“She was hot.” 

“And?” 

Something akin to pure disbelief shoots out of your nose. “You’re gonna pass that one up?”

As expected, you have to wait a second as he finally swallows. But you’re willing to do that because if he talks with a full mouth one more time you’re gonna—

“Why wouldn’t I? I’m with you.” 

Gonna… You’re gonna…

What were you complaining about again? 

Jungkook has to be kidding. He has to. For goodness sake, you’re a bloated mess in sweats and there are tons of tens walking around. 

You’ve picked up on the stares. More than one person has given your roommate glimpses and double-takes. You’ve just ignored them because you were famished, tired, and knowing you won’t be doing this little stunt forever. 

But after seeing how adamant Jungkook has been, you at least admire his commitment. The efforts shown tonight have been quite endearing. 

Maybe you can start treating this like an actual date, too.

Leaning forward, you rest casual elbows on the table, shielding your chin with clasped palms. “If you’re serious… what do you usually talk about on these things.” 

You ask this to show that you’ll try. An olive branch extending above herbs and coagulating butter meant to assure him. 

So why does Jungkook look thrown off to hell? “On dates? Uhh…” 

Great. You concede to paying more attention just to fall for his styled hair. And of course it looks even better when he rakes through his locks! Does he really have to do that? Damn it, damn it, damn it. 

“They usually do most of the talking.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“It’s true!” 

If that’s true, you kinda feel bad. Aren’t dates supposed to be how you get to know one another? Both people should be talking and finding similarities to build connections. Or at least to keep things interesting. 

“Well,” you scoff, “What do you wanna talk about?” 

“Oh. Hmm.” 

Silence remains your only response for a heavy set of seconds. And you relax your hands with each passing tick, your heart kinda sinking alongside their descent. 

Jungkook almost looks… unsure. Lost. 

This wasn’t your goal in the slightest. And now you feel a little bad for asking, even if it was just a genuine question. 

A slight furrow in your brows stems from the tiny pang in your chest. Something inside of you wants to reach over and grab that nervous hand tapping his silverware, but you can’t move. It doesn’t feel like the time. 

You don’t wanna do this to yourself again, either. 

But after some clinks and chatter around your table, your date pulls out a topic,

“There’s a new d—”

Loud buzzing makes both of you jump, eyes slinging to the phone lighting up on your side of the table. 

Shit, you forgot to put it back in your bag.

Swiping it quick, you stare at the screen before wincing, because you finally got somewhere with substance. 

But these calls won’t stop. They’re not gonna stop until you answer them. 

“Hold that thought, okay?” You ask with sorry eyes. “I need to take this.”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Jungkook responds quick. But his face gives a lot more away than he intends. “I’ll, uhh. Be here.”

You nod in return, not quite telling him what you want to say. 

But wading through stares with your phone against your ear shifts your mood entirely. 

And maybe one day, you’ll admit to your roommate that you wanted nothing more than to keep talking to him instead. 

That was a mistake. 

You really shouldn’t have taken that call. 

Using a warm towel to fix what you can of your face, you stare at determined eyes before steeling resolve. Get back out there and back to Jungkook. This whole thing took you way too long. 

God, that was a huge mistake. 

Shuffling back into your chair, you notice that a lot of the plates have been bussed and your napkin replaced with a new one. 

“Fuck,” you whisper. “How long was I gone?” 

“Who was that?”

His sudden question makes you pause on the way down, but you sit anyway. He doesn’t need to know. “Oh, it’s…” Waving your hand, you shoo any doubts he has in those starry eyes. “Whatever. I’m back now. What were we taking about?”

“Who called you.”

“No one, Kook.”

“Are you sure cus you—”

“Stop,” you cut him off, looking away before he can pin you down with one confused stare. “I just.. It’s no one, okay?”

Jungkook hesitates, but he answers, “If you say so.”

Your stare is long. 

Because he looks ready to fight. 

Or ready to just leave and find someone else to continue the date with, you don’t know for sure. Do you have a bias on which one it’d rather be? Yeah. But you’re so thrown off by that stupid ass call. 

Sighing, you fiddle with the posh tablecloth before clearing your throat. “So.. What were you gonna tell me?”

More hesitation from across the table. But you expect it, so it hurts less. “There’s a new dance I wanna learn.”

Oh? 

Immediately, your shoulders relax a tad. You didn’t think he’d talk about one of his hobbies. Truthfully, you assumed Jungkook would mention something about his car or gloat about only working when he wants to. 

This is a welcoming twist. And one you can somewhat follow since you know about his steadily growing account and dance skill. “Which one? Show me.” 

“Yeah?” Sparkling, your roommate takes out his phone, swiping away notifications—a lot of notifications—before thumbing through. “Hold on, lemme find one.” 

You look around, seeing that some people here are elders and anticipating their disgust when Jungkook inevitably plays the video out loud. 

“Here.” 

Doing exactly what you thought, he shows a dance to a popular song that you’ve heard before. Is this why you’re hearing it everywhere? Whatever it is, it looks more complicated than the ones he’s posted before. 

But knowing he picks stuff up quick, you figure he’ll have it down by tomorrow. So the only logical step is to tease him and test his memory, “Bet you can’t learn it by the time we finish.” 

“Our date?” 

“Our food.” 

Jungkook gawks. “But we’re almost done!” 

“So? You can do it.” 

“What do I get?” 

“I’ll pay for dessert.” 

“Done. Have fun paying, I’m getting everything.” 

When he watches the video, you press a hand over his phone just as he tries to block the swipe. And you fight hard to not react to his fingers covering yours. “No cheating.” 

“What!” 

Sliding your hand away, your voice gets more stern to hide your heartbeats. “Gotta make it hard somehow.”

His cheeky eyebrow tick snatches your breath before he goads, “I’m listening...” 

He’s listening? What did you… Oh. He’s a problem. Blowing off his innuendo, you roll your eyes. “Whatever, you get what I mean.”

More notifs slide onto his phone, and you hum while Jungkook swipes them away in groups. “Fine. But you’re gonna record me and watch me win.” 

“Done.” 

During the rest of the meal—which prolongs from both of you still ordering—you can tell he’s committed, his body subtly doing the moves as he mouths the lyrics. “You’re trying the dance, huh.” 

“Shh.” 

The night goes on, and the restaurant fills closer and closer to the brim. It’s after the ninety minute mark that you notice just how many people know your roommate. At least, people in a place like this. 

Girls keep coming to visit. But not all of them are hostile or rude—most of them are actually really sweet. Some people invite him to places, others remind him to be somewhere. One very handsome guy even asks if he’s going to some pre-release party tomorrow. 

“That’s tomorrow?” 

“Yeah, dude. Open the group chat once in awhile.”

After Jungkook laughs and jokes along with the guy a little more, he watches him say bye to you before leaving with his own date. 

You’re left amazed, eyeing him signing the bill you know is massive. “Damn.. how many people do you know in this town?” 

“Uhhh…” He scratches his neck. “Don’t be surprised if this keeps happening.”

“Super.” 

And he dons that same uneasy look in his eyes.

You come to the conclusion that you don’t enjoy it. 

When another group of people approach the table, Jungkook subtly changes up the way he converses. Instead of just talking to them, he fully introduces you and even mentions what you do for a living. 

And this little change causes a beat inside your chest. 

As you’re about to answer one of their questions, your phone buzzes again. And it’s yet another thing that you have to pick up. 

Fucking hell, why is all of this happening tonight? 

So caught up in inner turmoil, you don’t realize how everyone’s looking at you as you hastily stand. And when you quickly apologize and excuse yourself, you hate how you catch Jungkook’s eyes right before leaving. 

This time? He looks downright upset. 

Shit, you can’t handle all of this right now. You know you’re definitely gonna be talked about as soon as you’re out of earshot but it’s too late to recover. 

So you rush away yet again.

That call doesn’t take long, but it’s still just as terrible to go through. Now you’re really just ready to cut the night short. 

“Who keeps calling you? You okay?”

“No one you know,” you sigh, a bit shocked that Jungkook even asked that second question. “But don’t worry about it. Let’s go home.”

“Home? Not dessert?”

You eye him again.

Damn it. He looks like a puppy that is determined to be adopted, and you know you can’t shake that image from your mind the rest of the night. 

Because yes. You do want to go home. You want to go home, shower, and dive into bed because no, you are not okay.

But after double checking your maps, you make a decision. For your self-proclaimed date and for yourself. 

“There’s a parking garage nearby,” you surrender as you stand. “Go park at the top.” 

The night sky looks a lot different from this height. Which doesn’t say too much because of all the city lights, but at least you have less obstruction to that vast dark ocean. 

As prominent stars shine above, you lose any previous thoughts, palms curled and resting against the warm top of Jungkook’s car. 

If only you could swim across those mingling blues. Weightless. No stressors or toxins entering your life, only flowing out and dissipating amongst planets and moons. A stellar massage; an out of this world escape. 

“Why are we up here?”

Your sigh is slow on the release. “To see if you earned dessert or not.”

When you look his way, Jungkook’s eyes twinkle brighter than stars, which is all you needed to validate your impromptu decision to come. 

Another olive branch. 

But your roommate slowly rounding his car makes your thoughts slip off the damn track. The rooftop lights contour his features just right, and when he leans right next to your arm, your ability to steer back in your lane vanishes. 

“Didn’t think you were this invested,” he hums.

To which you slowly cut back, “I kinda just wanna see you lose.”

Jungkook’s teeth bite a corner of amused lips in response, and it’s the most tempting he’s looked the entire night. Fuck you need to look away he cannot do that ever again.

“Record me then.”

Why the fuck did his voice get so low!

Turning back, you slide your hands off the car—certainly not because they’re shaking. “Gimme your phone.” 

The proximity has been getting to you. But Jungkook’s sudden hesitation breaks whatever spell he just casted. 

Makes sense. He was very quick to swipe away any notifications that you may have seen. Privacy or whatever he’s afraid of, you’re gonna stay wary of what could be in that thing. 

But to your utter shock, Jungkook has his whole screen in view while he swipes into quick settings to turn on Do Not Disturb. And he hands it over while his words come out small, 

“All yours.”

Static flits in the air as you slowly take it, watching him observe your expression and realizing he’s giving up a lot with this one gesture. 

And you don’t know what possesses you to do this, but you pocket his phone in your hoodie pouch before taking your own device out to silence, as well.

Although worried, you sacrifice this tiny moment of time to give him the same courtesy. It’s only gonna take him two tries maximum, right? You won’t miss anything in those sixty seconds. This is just an equivalent exchange. 

“And yours,” you murmur, handing him your phone to keep, too.  

It shouldn’t mean much. Honestly, it shouldn’t mean anything. 

But the way Jungkook looks at you? I feels like no one else exists anymore. Your universe has shrunken to two, and the way one of you is inching forward it feels like you’re about to be k—

“You shouldn’t have done that,” is all the warning you get before Jungkook speeds off.

Speeds off? What the actual fuck!

“Are you fucking serious!” you call out as you chase him across empty parking spaces, watching his hair bounce with his swooping laughs as he’s… raising your phone above his head? “Jungkook, I swear to god—”

His laughter continues as he keeps running, and you quickly run out of breath but you push forward because what the fuck is he doing with your phone? Is he checking every notification you didn’t swipe away or checking your call history or—

A whoosh of breath flies out as you run right into his laughs, and you’re grabbing at his jacket and yelling until you notice that he’s…

Recording? 

Jungkook was just filming himself running away?

“Ah, you’re faster than I thought,” he grins to your camera. “Thought you’d be a turtle.” 

“Kook!”

“Come here, turtle,” he says before wrapping a quick arm around you. Asking right to the camera, he continues, “Where’d you learn to be so fast?”

You outright frown at the lens. “I am not a turtle.”

Jungkook bursts into laughter again. “Ah, what are you then,” he asks again, watching himself on your screen while you perpetually pout. “A sloth? A snail?”

“Annoyed.”

“That’s not an animal!”

“Give me my phone!” You spring into action, leaping for your device as he stretches away while laughing even harder. Your body fully smushes into his in your pursuit, and while your arms are sailing through the air your heart is leaping into the clouds. 

It’s always been obvious your roommate is rock solid but holy fuck. 

Don’t give up now. You’re grabbing his leather sleeves and he’s chortling all throughout your struggle. But you think you can get it if you just— 

“Wait, wait!” Jungkook stumbles from your full weight jumping forward, and he attempts to stay upright but suddenly you’re rushing towards the ground in a full fall oh shit! “Fuck—!”

You fully expect pain shooting through your hands, or your hips, or your elbow, brain rushing through ideas on how to fall properly—

But all you feel is the plush yet solid force of Jungkook’s front, held together in a leather layer as you both shoot out groans on impact. And all you can get out is a tiny, 

“Ow.” 

“You okay?” 

A lot of things are competing for your realization. Like the way Jungkook is between your body and concrete, and the way he’s the one looking at you in concern. 

Not to mention the hand fully pressing you against his front. 

Oh no no no, you’re getting flushed just thinking about how he feels. Or how he saved you from any injury. You can already imagine how it’s gonna sound in the video playback when you squeak, but you’re so embarrassed that you just want it over with. “Why’d you do that?”

“Me? You’re the one that jumped me!” 

“You could’ve just given me my phone.” 

“That’s too easy.” 

Shit, you need to get up. His eyes are shimmering and he looks way too happy for a guy that just broke your entire fall. When you try to push off, you’re quickly held a little bit tighter. 

And your brain skids to a halt as you look at his cocked brow. 

“Say sorry first.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me,” he quips. “Say sorry and I let you go.” 

Ah. If only it was always that easy. 

Pursing your lips, you glare. “I’m sorry for giving you my—Kook!”

He laughs at your miserable attempt to escape his tickling, correcting you in sing-song as you squirm. “You gotta mean it, babe.” 

Immediately, you stop. “Don’t call me that.” 

“Why not?” 

You don’t really have an answer. But giving guys a general look of annoyance is usually enough to convince them. So you pull out your last hope. 

“Okay, okay,” he concedes, reluctantly peeling his fingers off your side and letting you stand. “I won’t say it for now.” 

Once you get off of him, you feel a little strange. The same feeling from your handholding earlier comes back in full force, but you do your best to shove it away. 

You don’t need that right now. This is just an experiment, so not even lying on top of your roommate can get to you. 

While dusting yourself, you miss the chance to give Jungkook a hand. So you’re silent as he shows you your phone—the video stopped and your screen black. “That okay?”

“Mmhmm…”

“Sorry,” he apologizes, though you don’t know what for. “We can record now.”

You huff as he unlocks your device with your face, and you debate pouncing again before he reassures, 

“Just pulling up the song. Damn, your screens are organized!”

You don’t acknowledge his compliment but watch him pull up the right app. And you let him play the song on loop in his pocket before relaxing. 

“Okay, you can start. I’ll tell you when to stop.”

“K.”

Through his screen, you watch Jungkook slowly jog into frame until he’s a good distance away. Already knows exactly how far to be, you muse, wondering just how often he really does these videos. 

And he preps because he knows the challenge part is coming, so you steady your hand and watch in amazement as he really does know all the moves. 

But you’re feeling a little cheeky. And a little in the mood for revenge. 

So you wait until he’s fully done with the dance to tell him you weren’t recording, which makes him groan, 

“Really!”

“Looks like you gotta do it all again,” you shrug with mock-pity. 

So he plays the song from your phone again while you wait, and once again, Jungkook is a skilled… dancer… 

A message banner from a name you vaguely recognize slides onto his screen, which throws you off because you literally saw him put it on DND. 

Wait. If Jungkook still gets her messages in this mode, then…

You realize what that could mean, and it kinda throws you off because you feel like you intruded on something you didn’t mean to. 

Damn. 

“How’d that one look!”

Shit! You were so thrown you didn’t even watch him! “Uhh.. Do it again,” you tell him, trying hard to hide the hitch in your voice. “You can do better.”

“Well, damn!” This guy’s smile really isn’t fair, even from far away. “At least you’re honest.”

Yeah. Right. 

When Jungkook does it again, no notifications show up and you watch him diligently this time. 

It’s perfect. Exactly how you thought it’d be. 

“That one was the best one,” he chirps, jogging over to take his phone and have you both watch it again. Looking at you with a lopsided curve, he boasts, “I win.”

“Fine, fine,” you admit with a fake grin. “Maybe I’m the one that wanted dessert this whole time.” 

He laughs. “Do it with me.” 

Do what? The dance? Absolutely not. “Me? Hell no.” 

“Why not!” 

“I would look like a fool! No.” 

A hand juts out to pull you just as you try to scurry away. “Nah, come on! I’ll show you, come here.” 

Ugh. You hate how he’s truly just vibing, taking you along for the ride. 

But in a last show of grace, you allow yourself to give in. Focusing on anything else besides those phone calls—and that notification—could be good anyway. 

So you stand next to your awaiting date, nodding for him to get on with it and teach. 

Grinning, Jungkook shows you simple moves and you somewhat get them. Something with your feet here, another move with your arms there. It’s a bit shaky at first and you have to keep watching him dance, but you have to admit you’re doing better than expected. 

But there’s a move with your hips that you can’t quite get, and you feel stiff as hell. Honestly, you’re not even mad at your dance partner for laughing because you know you look silly. “Give me a break,” you shout with a laugh, to which he chuckles harder. “You know this one is hard.” 

So, in very Jungkook fashion, your roommate comes over to steady his hands on your hips. “Here,” he says in a whisper, “I got you.”  

And you scoff out a laugh. “Oh. I see.” 

In full teacher mode, he asks in shock, “Wait, you got it already?” 

“No, like”—you shake your head—“I see why you did this.” 

Jungkook pauses before chuckling, smug whispers flowing into your ear, “Is it working?” 

Huh. Just like his boldness from before, you’re liking this side of him. The one that’s just going for it, whatever the challenge may be. 

Turning slightly, you catch his features in your peripheral. “What if it wasn’t?” 

Slowly, Jungkook’s grip gets a little tighter as he leans in, one of his hands sliding up just enough for his thumb to slip under your hoodie. When he asks again, his tone lowers an octave, one you haven’t ever heard this close, “This better?” 

The text, the text, the text. 

You breathe hard, swallowing before stepping far out of his embrace and sputtering, “I think I got it! No practice needed.” 

He switches demeanor immediately. “Oh? So we can record now?” 

“What.”

Jungkook half runs to the nearest concrete railing to prop his phone, grappling your wrist before you can scurry out of frame. “Just try it! Play the song on your phone.” 

God. You were only gonna learn the dance, not be recorded! This is way too much embarrassment for the night. 

As the video records, you’re so adamantly against it that you stand in full grump mode, your dance partner only stopping when he sees you not doing it.

You kinda enjoy his pout. “Hey!”

“I can’t!” 

Again with those eyes. No wonder this man gets whatever the fuck he wants whenever someone comes over. “Just once.” 

Your arms cross you like a shield. “If it’s horrible, you’re deleting it.” 

“Fine.”

You give him another look, but he’s not budging. At all. 

So you slump in defeat and prep for the worst. 

The video records again, and you move through the steps, knowing your memory helps you even though your muscles can’t quite do everything accurately. Honestly, you’re a bit proud you can get through the dance wait why are you dancing solo!

Freezing, you turn to Jungkook watching you with a dropped jaw. “What now?” 

Excited eyes crease as he points to your feet. “You did the moves!” 

“Wasn’t I supposed to?” 

“Yeah, but”—his amusement peppers the night with color—“I didn’t expect that.” 

“You told me to!” 

He laughs again before running excitedly to his phone, and you are so confused. But you feel a little accomplished that you surprised him, and he then tells you to record him one more time. “I can’t lose to you.” 

And when you watch him finish the dance, you lock eyes with him over his phone. 

That was the best he’s ever danced for a video and you both know it. 

When he proudly holds his device on the way back to the car, you quietly smile as he decrees, “I’m posting this tomorrow.” 

“Why not now?” 

“Wanna edit first.” 

You give the sky one more look. “Oh. I thought time mattered or something.” 

“Huh? I don’t care about the time. I just post whenever.” 

“Sounds right.” 

At least the time you’ve been spending on the parking garage is nice. Looks like the change in location has been a nice distraction from—

Great. Another fucking call. 

Both of you glance down at your phone, and you quickly bring it up to your ear to hide the caller ID, wincing at his forlorn look before you motion your exit. 

“Do you really have to—”

When the caller starts to talk, you make one stride before your elbow is softly grabbed. 

And when you give Jungkook a desperate shake of your head, he pinches his brows before letting you go. 

God, your roommate looks so lost in his car. 

The breeze stings as you walk back, and your heart tugs a little when Jungkook starts driving over as soon as he sees you’re done. 

Just get through this last part of the night. One more stop and then you can both end this pitiful charade of a date. 

You’re about to reach for your door when Jungkook pops out of his side. “I got it.” 

Oh. That’s nice of him. “You don’t have to—”

“Am I keeping you from something?” 

Stilling, you watch as he stops at your side, car exhaust hitting your nose as his car runs. “No, no, it’s…” 

Jungkook watches you peter off, his face falling hard enough to make you regretful. When he looks at the ground, your chest caves. “We can just go home.” 

“What? No. You won the bet, I don’t need pity.” You know it’s sour but you’re stressed and losing this one good thing will make it a thousand times worse. “Sorry.” 

“We don’t have to go.” 

“Dude, it’s fine.” 

“I don’t want it anymore.” 

Well. Shit. 

Way to be the first person in the universe to ruin a good time with Jeon Jungkook. A good night, no less. What’s the prize? Feeling like absolute garbage. 

This guy took you to the nicest place in town, defended you against stuck-up assholes, and even broke your fall on concrete. What the fuck have you been doing the whole night? Those olive branches don’t mean shit if you’re gonna take them away, too. 

Sighing, you muster the courage to put on a brave front. Offering one last, genuine invitation, you compromise, “Then let’s do the dance one more time.” 

“It’s okay.” 

Fuck, that hurts like hell, but don’t give up. Stop being a total asshole. 

Gathering even more courage, you reach out to lift his beautiful chin. “Look at me.” When he does in silence, you finally apologize, “I’m sorry, okay? I should’ve told you these calls might happen but I didn’t even.. I didn’t even think about it.” 

“They’re making you miserable,” he accurately summarizes. “And you won’t tell me who's doing this to you.” 

Soul breaking, you stare at the ground. “I’ll tell you if I really need to, Kook, but.. Not right now.” 

“Why?” 

Many, many reasons. But you’ll spare him the time and misery when you swipe at nothing on his jacket. “Because I can handle them on my own for now.” 

There’s a beat of silence followed by another. But it’s not as awkward as they had been throughout the night. This one feels much lighter, like your apology lifted the brick of stress pushing down on you until now. 

Is that because Jungkook’s now offering to help you carry it? “I’m here, you know,” he starts, his turn to hold your chin. “Even if we aren’t dating, I got you. Okay?” 

Smiling the tiniest you can manage, you wait until his hand is back at his side. “Are you gonna tell me that’s what roommates are for?” 

When Jungkook starts to grin, you let yours spread a little wider. “Something like that.” 

Okay. You can do this. 

He’s just your roommate and this is just a date. You’ve been letting life beat your ass the whole time you could’ve been leaning into this whole thing, and that sucks. 

But even though you can’t change the past, you can change what happens now. 

So you let yourself laugh when he does, and you give him one more chance to embarrass you. “Are we doing this dance again or going back home so I can finally sleep in peace?”

“In peace?” His dropped jaw makes you giggle. “Nah, we’re definitely recording again.” 

This time, you both stand a little closer so you can fully be in frame. And it takes a few tries—one solely because Jungkook purposely moves to cover you, making you shove his laughing ass out of the way—but eventually you do get a decent take. 

After watching it over in the car a few minutes later, you’re so impressed that you even want him to send you the video. 

“Oh, yeah, I’m sending all of them.” 

“What, why?” 

His eyes shine way too bright as he starts descending through the parking levels. “So that they live in our message thread forever.” 

“You sneaky bi—wait, this is my song!” Your hand is already jutting out to turn up the volume before Jungkook can react, already forgetting what you were yelling about to break into an upbeat rendition of an old classic. 

“Wait, I wanted to—”

“Too bad! This is my shit.” 

When you start to sing, Jungkook can only watch before grinning at his windshield, joining in until you’re both belting everything out, “We’re in heaven…” 

Letting your window down, you scream lyrics out into the empty garage, barely hearing Jungkook cackling at your side. 

For a moment, you feel free. Music up, breeze through the windows, and the prettiest singing voice by your side hitting every note in the book. 

If only you could both do this forever. 

After a much livelier car ride than the first, you’re both walking to your door, sharing a look and knowing exactly what the tiny laughs are about. 

Who goes back to the same home after a first date? 

As he opens the door for you, a thanks slips from your lips before your shoes slide off your feet. And while the door closes with a click, your mind goes over the whole night like a sped-up tape. 

Prank or not, bet or not, it ended up being fun. You hope the same for your roommate, though you’re truly expecting him to confess and say he’s done pretending. So he can get on with his life and seeing other people like that girl. 

Your ribcage jostles. 

“Thanks for dinner,” you murmur as he finishes taking off his boots. “That was the best I’ve ever had.”

When Jungkook straightens, he gives you a lopsided smile. “Good,” he responds before flicking his bangs out the way. “But no taking calls next time.” 

Wait. After all your bullshit today, there’s still a next time? “Uh, I don’t know when I’d be able to—” 

“Trust me. This one you’ll like.” 

Rip the bandaid off. Just do it before things go where they shouldn’t. He’s already starting to say what’s in store for tomorrow but you can’t even entertain it because of what you saw. “I don’t think this will work.” 

Caught mid-sentence, Jungkook snaps his mouth shut before tilting his head. “Huh? You didn’t have a good time?” 

Damn it. Why is he still only asking about your experience? Didn’t he have to sit through all your absences? This is already getting too hard to break off and that’s not a good sign. “No, I did. I meant the whole, umm. Ten days thing.” 

“Because you’re already convinced?” 

“Because we live together, dummy,” you remind him, walking into the hall before he blocks your path. Pulling excuses out of your ass, you continue, “At least I get to have time away from other people I date. Not keep seeing them in their underwear.” 

“You like it.” 

You tsk. 

“It’ll be fine!” 

Arms folded, you pin him with a glare. “You bring girls over like four times a week.” 

“Why would I right now? I’m with you.” 

Something about that makes your heart pulse a little faster. But you can’t. You can’t do this when you know something you shouldn’t. Or maybe something you should, since it’s pretty damn important? “And no one else?”

“No one else,” Jungkook immediately answers. Which is weird considering what you accidentally saw earlier. If he’s flat out lying, you really can’t do anything else with him anytime soon. 

“Are you sure, because…” You sigh before looking down at his pocketed phone. 

Say it. Say exactly what’s on your mind because this isn’t some drama where communication is somehow last on the list of priorities. Real people talk it out, so talk it out. “Look. I kinda, umm. Saw someone text you when I was recording.”

You watch his expression change a tiny, tiny bit. But it’s enough to warrant your decision, “If you’re already seeing someone, I don’t wanna—”

“Who?”

You blink. “Uhhh.. Kyla? Kira?”

Your roommate suddenly starts to grin lopsided. “Kala? She’s my friend from like, second grade. We still game together.”  

“Oh.” Well. That was a lot easier to talk about than you expected. “I just thought… Yeah.”

The way he softens while looking at you makes you feel both dizzy and a little shy. You would pay a significant amount to know what he’s thinking right now, despite the troubles hitting you all through the night. 

“So cute.”

Ah. Never mind. “It’s not cute,” you huff. “Just being reasonable.”

“Yeah. Cute.” 

But he breaks contact to take out his phone and messes with it for a bit. When he clicks it to lock, he holds it up in a slight wiggle. “There.” 

Your head tilts before he explains,

“Yours come through now, too.” 

Breath caught, your whole body seems to buzz. The air around your hoodie starts shifting and heating, and your question leaves in a shocked whisper, “You’re taking this seriously.. aren’t you.”

Jungkook’s eyes never leave yours. “Yeah.”

Why the hell is he trying so hard? For you of all people? 

Last time you checked, the two of you are friends but it’s never been more than that. What’s gotten into him in the last month or so? Did something happen that you missed completely? 

Because if this isn’t some big joke... is this energy around you what you think it is? This chemistry molding into something scary and exciting all at once? It’s terrifying you because, if this is something he wants for real, you may take things further than they’ve ever gone.  

But the spark dissipates when Jungkook looks away. Eyes a little lowered, he asks, 

“It’s just ten days, right?”

Ah. Of course. He’s just competitive, that’s all. 

Smiling tight while you lift your nose, you hum. “Seven.” 

“Too easy.” Jungkook then stops to look at the ground. “It’d be easier if you didn’t keep walking off, though.” 

He got you there. You really don’t have any excuses other than your much lower level of effort. “I… Yeah. Life is really… I’m sorry.” 

You don’t want to tell him just yet. Especially since the night had quite the lovely ending. “But honestly, I really thought you were just doing all this to mess with me.”

“Well, I’m not.” Shucking his jacket off shoulders that haunt you, your roommate steps aside to let you finally pass. 

And reminds you about the motherfucking tank underneath fuck—

“Besides.” 

You blink at the hand on your arm. 

“I can mess with you any day.”

Oh? Bold once again. Attractive once again. But you aren’t gonna let him have just anything he wants. At least, not without seeing how far he’s willing to go. “Not if I don’t let you.”

“You think so?”

“I do.” You lift your chin. “You don’t scare me.”

Stepping in front of you, he gets so close there’s no space between your front and his protruding pecs. “Even like this?”

You try not to show your swallow. “Uh huh.”

When he leans in, you do your best not to react when he rasps out, “And this?”

Another gulp.  “D… Duh.” 

But you’re pretty sure he hears that one because he gravitates to your neck. So close that you can feel his breath on your throat, cologne wrapping you up in wild thoughts and even wilder decisions. “But not this, right?”

Say no, say yes, say no no no. “...No.”

Then. Just when you thought he couldn’t get any cheekier. His lips brush right against your neck as he asks his last question,

“Here then.”

Your flinch and dip out of his way is so quick that you don’t even realize you moved, and his laughs paint the hallway with mirth at your expense.

A hand slaps over the very spot he touched. “Kook!”

“What?”

That felt way too good but came out of nowhere. Feelings are creeping into places they really shouldn’t, and you’re so caught off-guard that your lips flap but don’t do much else. “You… you can’t just…I—”

“Relax,” he giggles. “I wasn’t gonna do anything else.”

Snapping back to reality, you bring yourself to express what’s really on your mind. “Just saying,” you huff, walking off. “You should still ask..”

“Wait, wait!” 

You turn, not anticipating the next thing out of his mouth.  

“You’re right,” he breathes out as he skids. “I’m sorry.” 

Relieved he didn’t take what you asked for as joke, you allow yourself to relax again. 

But of course, with Jeon Jungkook, there’s always more. “Can I do one more thing?” 

“What.” 

“Lemme do what I always do after dates.” 

Deadpanning, you drone, “We’re not having se—” 

“It’s not that.” Pinning him with disbelief, you watch him smile. “Not this time, anyway.” 

Another roll of your eyes. 

“Just trust me.” 

“Fine.” 

He takes your hand and leads you to your bedroom door, and you try your hardest not to bunch your shoulders. 

But something interesting happens that makes you more curious than anything else.

Jungkook stops when you get to your entrance, and he turns to just stare at your face. So calm, and so quiet. 

You don’t quite know what you look like right now, but the way he smirks before going in for a kiss gives you.. an.. idea.. 

He kisses your cheek? 

When he pulls away, his eyes sparkle as you question so bluntly he laughs, “That’s it?” 

“Told you,” he reiterates through a sly grin. “Why?” 

“I mean..”

He chuckles before leaning in slow. “I mean if you insist—” 

Immediately stopping his playful ways, you panic, “Wait, I mean—I just—” 

“Dinner and a kiss is all it takes to win, huh?”

“No, that’s not..” God, he is not funny right now! “One more wouldn’t hurt. I wasn’t ready.” 

By the way Jungkook freezes, you’d think he had turned to stone. But on second glance, he’s just watching for any hesitation or lie in your words, so when he finds none he leans back in.

The second kiss is just as light and innocent as the first. 

But this time, he doesn’t move as you swivel your face to watch, mouths so close and noses softly bumping. 

And the universe shrinks once again. Your belly twists with trembling butterflies and Jungkook’s cologne has clung to him so nicely and your calls have you wound tight and you really just need a distraction so maybe it wouldn’t hurt to just—

“Go to sleep, roomie,” he whispers with a deadly smirk, moving away before you can even respond. “You gotta get up early.”

Oh. Why did your heart just scream? “Right… I do.”

“Good night.”

“Good night…”

Before you can snap out of it, Jungkook is already walking away. 

After everything you did tonight, he still stayed. Still had fun. And even did more than he needed to for you despite being left alone at every turn. 

…And quite honestly? “Kook?”

He turns. 

Fuck this fake dating game, fuck the bullshit you’ve been dealt tonight. “Was that really how you wanted to kiss me?”

Jungkook pauses in the hall, jacket dangling from his fist. “Fuck no.”

You swallow as your breath turns shallow. Thinking too hard about all the shit you’re gonna go through soon, you let loose just this once. 

“Then show me.”

Leather abandoned on wooden floorboards, your friend, your roommate, your enormous new problem returns with a purpose, gripping your head in his hands and—

Fuck, he’s a great kisser. Your lips connect and it’s lights out, flashing through your veins and speeding down your limbs. Rushed and impatient, his hands slide all over your arms, running up back to your neck to hold it tight. 

“You taste so fucking nice.” 

Your reply is devoured, his grip strong but not crushing, tongue sliding along your plush like it’s nothing. 

Yes, yes, yes. This is exactly what you needed all along. Nothing occupies your mind other than thoughts so dirty Jungkook would never let you live them down. 

Suddenly, you’re delightfully shoved against your door, groan spewing into his lips as you grapple for his bare arms. If he’s chuckling, you can’t bring yourself to care. All you can think about is how fucking good this feels. 

And how fucking wrong it is. 

Maybe that’s what adds to the thrill. The knowledge that roommates should never jump into this, no matter how electric things can get. 

But fuck it. 

Maddeningly, though, Jungkook keeps his hands just within boundaries, which surprises you and yet irks the monster in you all the same. When he shifts his lips, the kiss deepens, and your eyes shut even tighter as something taut and muscular shoves between your legs. 

Fuck, this feels good. Too good. Borderline forbidden and stepping across way too many lines but you can’t fucking stop. 

“Careful, babe,” you hear him coo. “Keep going and we’re fucking all week.” 

What? What did he just say what are you doing to make him… 

Holy fuck, were you humping his leg? 

“Oh, shit,” you gasp, breaking away and holding him at arm’s length. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t even—” Air immediately washes over your heated cheeks and into your desperate lungs, and you have to fight to catch your beating breaths. “Something just happened, I—”

And looking down does you no favors because there is a very, very obvious bulge in your roommate’s pants oh god what did you do? 

Your wrists are held by calm hands as Jungkook peels you off his shoulders. When he leans forward, your body’s caged in by his sheer size alone. 

“Thanks for the dessert, roomie,” he simply whispers to your lips, swiping a finger across your nose before backing up to go to his room. “See you tomorrow.”

And just like that, you’re left alone in the hallway, mind swirling and swirling.

Well. When you invited him to make a move, you expected to be charmed because it’s him. 

But out of all the goddamn outcomes, you didn’t expect anything like that.

A hand slides up to grab the spot above your beating, pulsing, racing heart.

These seven days are gonna age you an eternity.

-

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tbc. :)

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🦋 ahhh how do we feel !! | wanna be tagged? 🦋

A/N: we're in heaven... OHHHH HO HO we are in it now!!! good god the amount of things in store for these two... honestly it's gonna be a good ass fun ass tiring ass ride hahaha. hope everyone is ready! A/N 2: second part is in the works and uhh, remember what i said before? the spice levels are basically gonna jump from 0 to 100? yeah that's gonna happen again lmfaooo these two are quickly jumping up my favorites list asapppp🦋  ++ feedback box (new!): ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that aren’t okay with reblogging with a review, commenting on this, or sending a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a feedback dropbox :D ⇥ here!   ++ ⇥ masterlist 

[loustilldraws]

Wow wow haven't been able to get this out of my head since I read it. Got me thinking a lot more about how each of these characters interact with their symbols in the game.

From the moment Markus enters the Manfred home, one of the first things he can interact with is the cage of robo-birds in the entry hallway. And what can he do? He can turn them on - he brings them to life in a sense. It's a microcosmic moment that encapsulates his entire role in the game as a change-maker and liberator. He sees through the cage and can reach beyond. And later when we get that cinematic slow-motion shot of him falling into Jericho, it's so clearly a flight in and of itself, calling back to the bird imagery that defines his experience with deviancy.

Of course, Markus isn't the only deviant android to be tied so intimately to birds. My boy Rupert comes to mind next, with the hundreds upon hundreds of pigeons he looks after, and how he takes flight all the same when DPD is coming for him. And then there's Ralph and the helpless violence inside of him bursting through not only with the dead man in the tub but the bird Kara can find. There's just so much. About deviancy - at least, typical deviancy - resembling that bird-in-flight emotional & psychological journey, even when the paths differ.

Then there's Connor and the fish, imagery that I have seen a lot but never thought quite so deeply about until now. How his atypical path toward deviancy is punctuated by a completely different symbol from the rest. What it means for Connor to either stop and save the fish or walk past it to fulfill his mission in the first chapter, beyond the surface-level. Yes, it's a gesture of compassion - or at least a thoughtfulness to life and living beings - that is not in his mission outline and causes software instability. But it's also the very first interaction you can have in the game that does this for him. And from that point, water is everywhere in pivotal moments in Connor's story, which I hadn't thought about before but it's so interesting to me! The fish in the tank is only the beginning. There's the moment with Hank and Connor at the bridge that forces Connor to confront mortality and whether or not he's alive. There's the pool at Kamski's where he has to either see a soul in the Chloe or kill her for his mission. All of the rain and the moody weather during the investigations, and how that rain eventually follows him inside his mind to the Zen garden as tensions mount...

Oh I'm talking myself into another playthrough, aren't I?

And that's not even diving into how Connor and Markus are connected to each other's symbols, albeit less directly. (This point is much less developed in my head, so I'd love to hear anyone else's take here!) I'm still thinking about Connor and his pursuit of the deviants, especially Rupert in The Nest; how his role is to capture those "birds" as they try to fly free, not seeing himself in them or realizing the depth of his own confinement. Something about seeing the startled pigeons flying away just before the chase sequence has always been such a striking, vivid image that latched onto my brain since I first experienced the game. Now, I feel like I'm beginning to understand why.

Then there's Markus and the water, with Jericho at the docks, and how in the end, this nest of all the deviants is the place Connor is fully confronted by the path be needs to choose for himself. He's finally over that bigger body of water and understanding his confinement, with Markus the liberator on his home turf and ready to push him to see it. Just. The confrontation between deviant leader and deviant hunter taking place over the water is the perfect example to me of how that save-the-fish moment becomes symbolic of Connor's deviant path entirely.

I don't know. Some of these ideas are probably only half-baked but I'm thinking about parts of the game that never stood out to me so much before, and I'm so jazzed about it! Analysis is one of the biggest things I love about fandom, so I hope some of what I said might add a little something to it too.

The Pets

[elodieunderglass]

Hi, hello, I'm sending you a weird not quite ask that you can feel free to tuck deep into the recesses of your inbox and never look at if it's too weird.

But I've been thinking about Killie. Again. Which is odd, because I'm not the blorbo rotating type. I'm happy enough to watch other people play in their sandboxes, but I just...don't. Fandom. The way people normally do on this site. So, I was wondering why your horrible horseboy is so beloved and such an infohazard to anyone who comes across him, and I think I hit on it. At least for me.

You don't shy away from two things in your telling of him: that he's kinda awful in some ways, and that he's deeply loved. He's a horrible little gremlin with bad lungs and worse social skills who bites, and he's LOVED.

As kind of an awful person myself (*this isn't self deprecating, gimme a sec), who's not at all okay with the idea of dying alone and unloved, Killie and your depiction of him is soothing.

*I'm not awful because I choose to be, and I know I have a lot of good qualities even if it takes my therapist bullying me into recognizing that I do, but due to both disability and just life in general, I'm sometimes not a pleasant person to be around. I'm irritable quite often, and I'm flaky even when I'm doing my absolute best not to be, and I'm overly sensitive sometimes, and don't know how to talk to people without talking about myself and trying to relate it back to them, and I'm messy...it's hard to imagine anyone loving me.

But even though Killie is a fictional character, there's enough 'loved in spite of and also for his flaws as much as his virtues' that helps me reroute the worst of those thoughts into something a little healthier.

So thank you? I think? Yeah. Thank you for your horrible horseboy and his long-suffering but steadfast partner.

(in reference to killie the horrible horseboy OC)

thank you so much for this. far from not looking at it, I have looked at it a lot. It made me think very hard and (hopefully very well) about what I'd like Throw Your Heart Over to be about, and what I'd like it to achieve for people. You remind me that, while it's all fun, what's most important is to be brave and true.

You are so very brave and true. I admire you very much for being so brave and true. I am humbled by it. It is a big, big thing and I don't quite know what to say. I think it is reductive and unhelpful to say things like there's someone for everyone! everyone deserves to be loved! when we live in a world where that doesn't happen, nor does everyone want to be partnered, nor does everyone want to be given to someone else as a partner. it's an automatic reflex when someone says "I don't feel lovable for these reasons," for other people to be dismissive of the reasons - as if that's helpful - or to instantly say "someone will love you!", as if there has simply been a administrative mistake in the assignation of one's soulmate. But that reflex doesn't do much good. Firstly, it's true that there are reasons that make love less easy for people, and pretending that love isn't work just makes people who don't get enough love feel rubbish. Secondly, there is no mechanism in the universe by which people are assigned their very own partner (and believing that there is can make people crunched-up and hurtful, if they're having trouble finding one.) So yeah! It probably IS hard to imagine finding someone! And that's okay! It means making your imagination stronger! Beefing up your imagination! getting your imagination buff and built! (insert montage of Killie attempting to lift weights with his mind.)

so I made this with you in mind, though I'm not sure it's all that I wanted to say. it was something about your fears might be true, but your hopes might be too; and in the event of someone loving you, you'll know that you will have something tremendously special, because you'll both have to be VERY brave and true with each other. and because of this, you will have a lot of evidence to show yourself how loved you are. You might be hard work, but to someone who loves you, it will be good work. and no weird ghosty worries, with or without antlers, or even your own self-doubts, will be able to take away how real that work will be.

I think you sound tremendously lovable. I think you make a great difference to the world. Thank you for making me more brave and true.

[velmalav]

The Giver - Frank Langdon pt. VI

masterlist

day one // night one // day two // night two // day three

synopsis: being the selfless person you are, you agree to travel to a 3-day conference with your biggest competition - dr. langdon. sixth and final part.

excited to be wrapping this one up! I'm open to requests for Langdon, Robby, and Santos!

warnings: 18+ SMUT, cursing, oops there's only one bed, enemies to lovers

night three - f.l.

Animosity is a strange thing. Sometimes, it’s white hot, clarity driven. Other times, passive, indirect aggression. And so much more in between that. One minute, you can be singing praises about someone, the next screaming at each other over something as simple as which kind of bread to get at the store. Or, in my case, stomping on a fellow intern’s foot only for four years of resentment to dissipate into him feeling me up in an elevator.

This lust between us has been brewing for days. Every moment, big or small, imprinted in my mind as permanent as the laws of gravity. Without realizing, I’d been wanting this for longer than I’ve allowed myself to believe. On the walk home, all I could think about was Langdon’s hands, but now I’m thinking about everything all at once.

His mouth is on my neck, hands on my hips. Don’t get me wrong, it feels good, but there’s something bothering me. After so much time for this kind of contemplation at the conference, it’s frustrating to be having this problem now. I stare up at the ceiling of the elevator, tracing patterns on the marble, trying to bring myself back down to reality. I should be relishing this. I should be letting it all go.

“You okay?” I turn my face down. Langdon’s staring at me, eyes full of concern. A look I’ve seen many times, but never because of me.

I bow my eyebrows and then nod quickly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

His concern deepens, palm pressed against the elevator behind me, his other still resting on my waist. “Bullshit, what is it?”

There’s a flicker of panic that shoots through me. I feel like I’m interrupting a long-awaited moment, and I can’t even identify why. The thoughts are so loud and he’s studying me too hard. I break eye contact, shaking my head.

“I don’t know,” I murmur, pushing the hair from my eyes. “I just can’t shut my brain off. Something feels wrong.”

Langdon drops his head for a moment. Contemplating. When he looks back up, his concerned expression remains, but something else lingers there. “You know, we don’t have to do this. If you’re uncomfortable or having doubts.”

“I know,” I say simply, finally looking at him. Really looking at him. Before either of us can say anything else, the elevator door opens to our floor. Silently, we walk to the room and enter, a heaviness loitering in the air.

Langdon takes his suit jacket off, tossing it on the tv stand. I sit at the edge of the bed, fidgeting with the rings on my fingers. “This whole trip, I don’t think we’ve had one honest conversation.”

Taking off his bracelets, he huffs out what sounds like a laugh. “If you don’t count the brutally honest talk we had last night.”

“Did you mean what you said about me?”

It’s not a question I’d been actively stirring over, but I didn’t realize how much it’s been weighing on me until now. Every syllable still swimming around in my mind, Because all you’ve ever done is think about yourself, and it’s just fucking gross.

“I was feeling so shitty that night, I don’t even really remember what I said,” he murmurs, and though his bracelets are free from his wrist, he continues to stare down at them. Shame laces his voice.

“You…you called me selfish,” every word feels painful to say. Too vulnerable to especially say to him. “You actually said I was so selfish it disgusted you.”

Langdon glances at me, blinking. I don’t know what my face is telling him, and it scares me. But I have realized why this all feels wrong. This is new territory for both of us. We aren’t playing games anymore, this is real. Every experience with each other up until this point has been either conflict or teasing, neither of which involves connecting on a deep level.

“Well, I don’t think that,” he says. “I’ve never thought that. It’s actually more of the opposite.”

“Then why did you even say it?”

“To hurt you,” his voice is just above a whisper now, and I can tell this conversation is hard for him, too. He doesn’t strike me as the kind of person to talk things out, just avoid and bottle and keep trekking. Or at least that’s all I’ve seen these past few years. “I was jealous, yeah. And pissed about not waking me up. But it was more than that for me.”

I swallow hard. Langdon tosses the bracelets in the same place as his suit jacket and takes a seat beside me. Our thighs and shoulders touch. He clasps his hands in between his knees, then rejoins our eyes.

“Ever since I got in trouble, my confidence has been…” he searches in my eyes for the words but gives up. “I don’t know. And ever since we got here, I’ve just been reminded of it over and over. The people, the pamphlets, the talks about patient care. You.”

Taken aback, I fumble for words, “You…m-me?”

Langdon nods. He seems…sad. As vulnerable as I’ve ever seen him.

“For as long as I’ve known you, I’ve felt like I’ve had to prove myself a lot more,” he breathes, shifting uncomfortably. “You’re good. With the medicine, with the patients, with our coworkers. I said ‘brutally honest’ about our fight not because I was being honest. What you said, about you having what I don’t, you were right. And instead of learning from you, I’ve been trying to tear you down.”

The confession is not what I expected from this conversation at all. I said what I did to hurt him, too, and that’s it. Up until now, I didn’t think I had the capability to truly rattle him. Langdon’s always seemed so resilient, confident. Like a brick wall.

I gingerly rest my hand on his thigh. “You’re a good doctor, Frank. I’ve spent the entire four years I’ve known you trying to keep up with you. Because…I thought I was the one who needed to prove myself.”

He searches in my eyes for something. Maybe for honesty, maybe for the reassurance I’m trying to show in my words. “So you’re telling me we’ve both had it out for each other for the same reason.”

The tension in the room shifts into something lighter. Our eyes both brighten just a little. “I guess so,” I reply, fighting back a smile.

Langdon breaks first, a strained laugh leaving his mouth before he can stop it. And then I’m laughing, too. We sit there, giggling like school children for God knows how long, leaning into each other’s shoulders. Until we have tears in our eyes, faces bright red.

“This is ridiculous,” I finally say, wiping the tears before they can fall. “And kind of pathetic.”

“And don’t forget it took four fucking years,” Langdon responds, and we both double over again, feeling a little loopy at this point.

Once the moment dies down, we remain there, both in our own heads. I feel steadier now, comforted now that I know my nemesis turned out to be one of the only people who understands the frustration and insecurity I’ve felt this whole time. Resting my head on his shoulder, I intertwine our fingers, feeling the calmness between us. This is the real truce, the burst of solace I now know we’ve both been craving.

“Why did you volunteer to come with me?” Langdon suddenly asks, head resting on mine. “I know it wasn’t for this.”

“Definitely not,” I laugh. I feel his chest rumble against me, and it brings comfort. “I felt bad no one else wanted to. It was a self-sacrifice type of thing.”

“Noble of you,” he jokes, turning his head to put his lips on my forehead.

“Yeah, so please never call me selfish again. I’m the reason this happened,” I bite back, the words laced with amusement. Langdon laughs again, and it makes me realize I like making him laugh.

“You know I really didn’t mean that, right? As frustrating as you can be, I’ve always known you’ll put anything and everything before yourself,” he whispers against my hair. “I always thought if I was ever forced to say something nice about you at work, that’s what I’d say.”

I sit up at that to see his face, confused. “When would you ever need to do that?”

“Oh, c’mon. We were two shifts away from being forced into a mediation exercise. Had to come prepared,” Langdon says, as if that’s not an insane thing to think. It reminds me of myself, of all the conspiracies about him and our games I’ve made up.

“You’re insane,” I say, my grin showing him it’s not a dig.

“Insanely hot, maybe,” he quips without hesitation. “Or at least you think so.”

Fighting back the urge not to fall into familiarity and argue with him for the sake of arguing, I instead lean towards him, inches from his face, “Yeah, I do.”

Langdon smiles so wide it reaches his eyes. For once, I backed down willingly. His response is to close the space between us, hand running through my hair immediately. I giggle against his mouth, moving until I’m straddling his lap. Cupping his cheeks in my hands, I deepen the kiss.

Now that we’ve settled our differences, the nagging feeling I had earlier has evaporated. I allow myself to let go, to let Langdon take whatever he wants from me. For the first time, I’m okay with him calling the shots as long as his hands are on me. I trust him.

He grabs hold of my arms and lifts them so he can slide off my blouse, our mouths only separating in the time it takes for us both to remove our tops. Then my arms are thrown around his shoulders, fingers making impressions on his shoulder blades. It’s like I’m studying every part of him I can as if he’s going to evaporate, too.

Langdon relocates his mouth from mine down my throat, stopping in the space where my neck meets my shoulder. Sucking and nipping, leaving marks wherever he can. I tilt my head back, lips parted, imagining all the other places he can touch me like this.

I interrupt him by pushing my weight onto him until he’s flush against the bed. It’s like a choreographed dance the way flips me so I’m the one on my back, calculated and effortless. He slips my skirt off, leaving me only in my bra and panties.

“You’re fast,” I’m breathless, tracing the fresh bruises on my neck as I stare down at him.

As a way of responding, Langdon smirks before he plants his lips just below my sternum. He peppers them lower, lower, until he reaches my panties. He makes sure to keep our eyes locked as he takes them off. Despite how lewd this is, his stare adds a layer of vulnerability I wasn’t prepared for. It’s like he can see right through me.

I feel the need to say something to squirm from this feeling, but before I can find the words, he’s buried between my legs, lips surrounding my clit. Suddenly there are no words, just bliss muddying my vision. Langdon sucks, tongue finding a rhythm as I fall back onto the bed, moan ripping out of my throat. “Shit,” I breathe, fingers locking into his hair.

He hums into me and then pulls back. “I want you to look at me,” he utters matter-of-factly. I prop myself on my elbows to see his eyes boring into me, mouth hovering just above my clit. I give him a very unconfident nod.

As soon as he makes contact again, I fight to stay upright. But the way he looks at me is so intense that I stay put. I focus on the strand of hair framing his forehead until another wave of pleasure hits me and my head is tilted back to the ceiling. “Fuck, just like that.”

Langdon places one hand on my hip to hold me down as I squirm around him. He makes a point by using his other hand to grab mine and relocate it back into his hair. He must be into that, then.

With newfound confidence, I wrap my fingers in his hair and tug in the same way I do the bed sheets. He moans into me, and it feels so good I can’t help the string of curses that leave my mouth. Just when I think I’m on the brink, Langdon slides two fingers in as he makes work of my clit, and I completely lose my grip, falling back onto the bed and straight into my high.

“I’m cu—” I can’t even get it out, legs trembling, body writhing. There’s no point in trying to hold back the ridiculously dirty moans I’ve been stifling, so I let them go as I ride it out.

Breathing hard, I slowly start to return to reality. Langdon climbs up to kiss me hard, tongue dominating mine, and I can taste myself on him. He pulls back to lick his lips, sliding his thumb past my lips. “I didn’t get to see your face,” he murmurs, eyes flickering from my eyes to my lips. “I need to see it this time.”

“Okay,” I reply, grazing my teeth on the tip of his thumb. The corner of his mouth twitches at the sight of me nipping at him. “God, you’re so fucking hot.”

I hum in response, unbuckling his belt without breaking eye contact. Once he’s undressed, he reaches underneath my back to unclasp my bra and chucks it somewhere on the floor. We stare at each other, fully naked, faces flushed, eyes needy. “I’ve been waiting long enough,” I whisper, tracing patterns down his throat, reveling in the ridges and slopes I feel beneath my fingers.

“Impatient,” Langdon huffs, sloping down to bite just above my left breast. I gasp, smacking the side of his head. He laughs. God, I love the sound of it.

He grabs the condom he fished out of his pants moments before and tears it open with his teeth. To make a point, I watch his every move, hoping he can feel my eyes on him. Then he’s lining himself up, one hand above my head, and just before he pushes himself inside, his eyes flicker to mine.

Our moans harmonize as he begins to thrust, and I notice he’s finding it hard now not to break eye contact. Eyes half-lidded, full of want, but fighting to stay open. I wind a finger around his one strand, yanking it gently to tug him closer. His hot breath mingles with mine, moans growing louder as he picks up his pace. “Fuck, I’m so wet for you,” I rasp out in between moans.

“Shit,” Langdon growls, nose tapping mine in rhythm to match his pace. Beads of sweat glisten at his hairline, his lip between his teeth. “I’ve thought about having you like this so many times – fuck – you don’t even know.”

Every word he says just makes me more crazed, my moans slurring into whimpers. He slows his pace, but his thrusts become harder, his stare becoming more concentrated. He watches every subtly on my face, every shift at his movements, as if he’s studying for some kind of test. Fingers materialize on my clit, causing me to throw my head back with a gasp.

“Oh my god,” I hiss. Langdon pushes into me faster, and faster, and then his hand is gripping my chin and tugging it towards him.

“Look at me,” he commands softly, thumb resting on my chin.

Ecstasy begins to fog my vision again, but I force it down to stay focused on him. He murmurs praises as I keep eye contact, which just gets me worked up even more. “Doing so good,” he says, tracing my jaw. Then his mouth is on mine again. It’s feverish and sloppy.

Choking down moans, I lean into the kiss. I can tell he’s holding back, too, and then all of the focus starts to fade and we’re just there, fumbling to get as close as possible, movements becoming careless and frantic. All of the holding back is gone; we’re moaning and cussing and gnashing teeth, not a single care in the world.

I feel myself approaching the edge, head twitching back on the bed. I reopen my eyes to lock back onto Langdon’s, and if the circles on my clit and the ridiculously fast pacing of his thrusts weren’t enough to do it, the defenseless look in his eyes sends me into my orgasm like a tidal wave. I cry out his name, my walls clenching around him, and I manage to do the one thing he asked of me; keep my eyes directly on his.

And that’s what ultimately unravels him. He lets out a grunt, whimpers my name, and lets go. We ride it out together, his thrusts slowing down, but through it all, we never break eye contact. It’s intimate, the most intimate moment I’ve ever shared with anyone. And of all people – Langdon.

Once we’ve both come down, he collapses beside me, shoulder to shoulder. He’s quick to grab my hand, placing a soft kiss on it and then resting it on my chest. I graze the sweaty skin with my finger, gazing over at him.

There are no words to describe what I feel when I look at him. He’s like an old painting, lines messy and haphazard, but comes together to be something beautiful. Hard to believe I’ve ever not seen him like this.

“How did we take so long to figure it out?” it’s almost as if he’s read my mind.

“No idea,” I murmur, brushing the strands of hair from his forehead. Langdon leans into my touch, softly, expression much of the same. “But I’m glad we did.”

I roll toward him so we’re both on our sides, facing each other. This moment, this feeling, I want it to keep going forever. It’s what I’ve been chasing. There’s a prodding fear that it can’t possibly last forever, but I push the thought away. Because we’re here now. Black sky out the window fading into an early morning, grey, bed sheets ruffled beneath us, the docile understanding between us, the smooth skin under my fingertips.

“You’re so beautiful,” Langdon whispers, kissing my hand as it pulls from his hair. He grabs it, fiddling with my fingers, and then jerks my entire arm so I’m right up against him. He kisses me, one, twice, then three times.

“I could get used to this,” I joke into his mouth, earning yet another wonderful laugh from him. “Much better than the constant bickering and tension we’re used to.”

He smiles, pecking my lips again. “I agree. We’ll make sure the next time we argue, we save that tension for the bedroom.”

I laugh, nudging his shoulder. “You know it’s a foolproof plan,” he adds.

“Whatever you say,” I concede.

Langdon fidgets with the necklace around my throat with a look on his face I’m all too familiar with. “You know, I’m already missing our games a little. It was kinda hot.”

“They’ll be back. Give it a couple shifts,” I deadpan, but my eyes are full of amusement.

“Good, because I’m already imagining all the super-hot hate sex we’re gonna have.”

“I’ll be counting on that.”

[callsign-rogueone]

splinter

Liam Mairi x reader (spark!) words: 2.3k 🏷: this one is heavy. mentions of passive suicidal ideation (wanting to die but not doing anything about it), spark goes to RSC and Bodhi is with her, canon-level descriptions of torture and injury, liam being the sweetest as per usual, some of Spark’s Issues™️ are explained, SMALL ONYX STORM SPOILER (GARRICK’S SIGNET) but that's it.

You snarl, pulling forward against the chains. “Touch him again and I’ll fucking kill you.”

The infantry officer just smiles down at you. “I’d like to see you try, cadet.”

You should have known he’d take your warning as an invitation. He turns back to Bodhi, examining him for a moment, as if deciding what would hurt most — and then takes a boot to his already-bruised ribs. 

His screaming covers the snapping sound.

Water starts to rise from thin air, filling the room.

“We’re below ground,” you tell them. “Right next to a river that has claimed the souls of thousands over the years. It won’t hesitate to take yours, either. You two do have souls, don’t you?”

The woman seems to realize you’re serious, her eyes widening, but her counterpart stands firm. “There’s one problem with your plan, cadet,” he condescends, not minding the water that’s up to his knees now. “You’ll drown, too, and so will your friends.”

Quinn is silent beside you, knowing better than to intervene. Bodhi is still trying to catch his breath, his exhales rattling and wet. There’s blood in his lungs, from the sound of it. After you’re done with these two, you’ll draw it out.

You don’t bother to tell the officer how it’ll work. He can see for himself in a minute. “One last chance to let us go.”

“I don’t think I’ll take it.”

You know exactly how long it takes to drown; you’ve walked the knife’s edge yourself many times at Tuile’s orders, in the name of eliminating weakness. “Then I suggest you use the next twelve seconds to settle up with your gods.”

The water rises, a tidal wave of murky black headed straight for their faces. It pushes forward as they step back, unable to escape it. 

“I don’t know why you didn’t do this hours ago,” Tuile huffs. “It would have made things much easier.”

You ignore her as usual, watching the officers for a sign of surrender. You won’t kill them if you don’t have to. But after all they’ve done, anything short of setting you all free won’t be enough. And even then, they wouldn’t be safe.

“It’s okay,” Bodhi says quietly, still panting. “We’re okay.”

You feel that gentle push against your power, but it’s weaker than normal — he’s too tired to stop you properly. You reel it back yourself, not wanting to exhaust him further. 

The water drains, seeping back into the ground, and the two infantry officers gasp for air. 

Professor Grady flings the door open, seeing the four of you perfectly dry as they still kneel, shivering and coughing the water from their lungs. “I told you this one wouldn’t be easy,” he says, no pity in his eyes as he looks at them.

You glare up at him. “Are we done now?”

He doesn’t answer the question. “I’ll admit, nobody has been able to turn the tables on their captors as you did,” he says carefully, “but had you killed them, three more would have taken their place, and made things quite a bit worse for you.“

“Then I’d keep going, until I found one who valued their life enough to set us free.”

Something changes in his eyes as he looks at you. “Release the others,” he orders, “but keep her here.”

“What? How is that fair?” Quinn asks.

“War isn’t fair,” the male infantry officer answers, eyeing you with contempt. He’s still soaked, trying to suppress his shivering. “Unless the both of you would rather stay here all night and watch?”

“Go,” you tell your friends, staring him down. “I can handle myself.”

————————

There are eighteen steps leading up to the second-year dorms. You take them one at a time, grinding your teeth as the movement strains your muscles. At least you don’t have any broken bones. 

Liam is sitting in front of your door, a small knife in one hand and a block of wood in the other, a little bag of shavings beside him. He’s been carving a lot of dragons lately. You’re just thankful that he hasn’t done yours. Tuile doesn’t deserve the honor, nor the hours of his time. 

He sets the materials aside as soon as he sees you, putting everything back in the bag and standing up. Neither of you have to say anything. This isn’t the first time he’s been there to patch you up, and it won’t be the last. He never asks questions, either, just gets to work disinfecting and bandaging. 

But this time, he looks at you differently. Maybe it’s the severity of your injuries. They hadn’t broken your nose, but you’re pretty sure that you have two black eyes and a split lip — you can feel that, even though you can’t see it. And then there’s the rest of you. They’d left no stone unturned, being incredibly thorough with your punishment for nearly killing two ranking officers.

The door unlocks as soon as you set your hand on the knob. You hadn’t expected it to work, after they’d forced whatever was in that little vial down your throat, disconnecting you from Tuile and her magic. That was a relief, honestly. Until they’d beaten the shit out of you, that is.

You don’t have it in you to be embarrassed as you tug off your tunic and kick aside your boots. Liam’s already seen you in a state of partial undress once, and the sooner you can get this over with, the sooner you can curl up and sleep for the rest of the weekend. It is the weekend, right? If it isn’t, you’re skipping class today. Maybe you can earn yourself another dose of that stuff, or maybe they’ll push too far and actually kill you. 

It feels like it’s been a full day since they released Bodhi and Quinn, but the days and hours have blurred together. It’s hard to guess how long you were down there, but it’s early morning now. Did Liam stay outside your room all night, waiting for you? 

You sit down in your desk chair and close your eyes, waiting. He knows where you keep all your supplies at this point; this is the fourth, or maybe fifth time you’ve done this since his arrival at Basgiath. He’s never once suggested that you see the healers — he knows better than that, knows you’ll never set foot in the infirmary here or anywhere ever again. You get by well enough with the things you’d learned from your parents, anyway.

There’s a few minutes of comfortable silence before he finally speaks. “Bodhi told me what happened,” he says softly, and you burn with shame, avoiding his gaze.

“Then why are you still here?” you ask. “Why aren’t you afraid of me, like everyone else?”

He tilts your chin back up to disinfect a cut below your eye. “Because I care about you, and because I want to understand why. I know that isn’t you — that isn’t my Spark.”

You’ve never felt such profound shame before, seeing the softness in his eyes as he gazes down at you, feeling the gentle touch of his hand on your cheek. 

He expects better of you. 

You aren’t the girl you used to be. 

You’ve disappointed him. 

That hurts so much worse than any of your physical injuries.

“I get it if you don’t want to tell me. I’m just worried about you. I don’t know what changed in the last year, or why, but I know something’s wrong, that you’re hurting, and I want to help you.”

You don’t say anything, and he drops the subject, continuing his work silently. 

But you need to tell him the truth, before it’s too late. “Everything I feel, every emotion has multiplied by five, and I can’t make it stop,” you blurt. 

He stills, looking back at you.

“I can’t sleep, I can’t think about anything but how angry I am, but most of the time it’s not even my anger, it’s hers,” you whisper, scared she’ll hear you. It’s unclear when this stuff will wear off. She could come back at any moment, hear any whispered confession and make you pay the price for your weakness later. 

You continue, your voice wavering. “Every morning for the last year I’ve woken up wondering if today will be the day that I’ll cross the line, that I’ll take things too far and Bodhi and the others won’t be able to stop me.”  You can’t stop the words from entering the air, the thing you’ve never told anyone, never admitted, not even to yourself. “Sometimes I wish she’d killed me during Threshing, that she’d hit a vein and let me bleed out in the forest.”

His eyes widen as he realizes the three thick scars crossing your collarbone were from Tuile. She’d scratched you, as many dragons do with their bonded to mark their riders — like the scar through Xaden’s eyebrow — but he’s never seen one this severe.

She must have wanted it to hurt.

He kneels down in front of the chair, at eye level with you now, and pulls you forward into a gentle hug, wrapping you in warmth. “I’m so grateful she didn’t, Spark. I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

You finally crack, a soft sob parting your lips at the pressure it puts on the cuts and bruises covering your skin. You clutch at the soft black fabric of his shirt with aching hands, needing him close even though it hurts, and the idea of him taking care of you after everything you’ve done makes you sick.

He strokes your back, speaking softly. “I mean it. You’re the world to me. And we’ll get you help, I promise. I’m sure my older sister would know what to do. She knows everything there is to know about dragons. I can’t send letters as a first year, but Xaden could. And you know he’d do it in a heartbeat.”

You shake your head no against his shoulder. “There’s nothing you or anyone else can do. I’m going to lose my mind.”

“Don’t say that,” he chides softly. “Please don’t give up, Spark. I know it’s difficult, but you’re so strong, and we’re all here to help you. Me, Bodhi, Xay, the girls…”

“You don’t get it,” you sniff. “Tuile was bonded to my grandfather for thirty years. A direct relative.”

He’s quiet, not sure what this means. They haven’t covered this in Kaori’s class — they never will.

You explain in a wavering voice. “The books say that anyone bonded to a dragon who was formerly bonded to their direct relative will either get a second signet or go completely mad, and I’ve tried everything, but all I can do is the water.”

Garrick had gotten a second one, as did Imogen and a few of the others who had riders in the family. But you ended up with your piece-of-shit grandfather’s piece-of-shit dragon, who probably decided that you didn't deserve a second signet, that you were too weak, too soft.

“That’s why I can’t control myself half the time,” you say in a cracked whisper, your breathing unsteady. “I’m already starting to lose my grip.”

He rests his chin on top of your head, keeping you tucked into his arms. “I’m so sorry, sweet girl.”

Nobody else has ever apologized to you about this, just given you pitiful looks and kept their distance — except Bodhi. But he’s only stuck with you out of responsibility, because he can keep you leashed with his own signet. 

“I’ll stay with you until the end. Even if you forget my name or try to kill me, I’ll be by your side.”

You manage a bitter laugh — a dry huff of air that makes your bruised ribs throb. “That might actually happen.”

“I know,” he says softly, still rubbing your back. “But if it does, I’ll know that it isn’t you, and it isn’t your fault. None of this was your fault. But I’m so proud of you for telling me, and for making it this far. And I promise you I will do everything I can to help slow this down, and to make life easier for you.” 

Your tears have dried, leaving you with a hollow feeling in your sinuses, but Liam still holds you, your breathing now synchronized with his. 

You take the opportunity to try some of the advice a friend had given you, that had seemed like complete and utter bullshit at the time, but might be worth it now.

Three things you can feel: the softness of Liam’s tunic and the warmth of his skin against yours, the ache of the bruises covering your body.

Two things you can see: Liam’s arm around you, and the definition of the muscle there. The mess of used medical supplies on your desk. 

One thing you can taste: the coppery blood that still coats the edges of your teeth. 

You’ll drag yourself to the bathing chambers to brush before you go to sleep. Should probably shower, too. It’ll be exhausting, but if you’re truly disconnected from Tuile and her magic, you won’t have to worry about drowning.

You hate to admit it, but you feel a little better now, a little safer with the familiarity of your room, and Liam in it with you. 

The bells ring — each of the six chimes making you wince. “Y’ should get to formation,” you murmur. 

His hand smooths over your hair once more, not minding the blood, dirt, and grease in it. “Are you gonna be okay on your own?” he asks softly. He doesn’t say it outright, but you know what he’s really asking.

“Mm. Jus’ gonna shower and sleep.”

He’s satisfied with your answer, but still lingers a moment longer. “I’m proud of you.”

“For what?”

“For surviving this long. For not giving up, and for telling me what’s going on.”

You don’t tell him that he’s the only reason you’re still going. 

Your words blur together with exhaustion. “Thank you. Fr’ cleaning me up.”

He lays a featherlight kiss to your forehead before he pulls away, careful not to brush the bruises there. “Always.”

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

Late to the party to reblog as always, but GOD, HAPPY I HAD THE TIME TO INDULGE IN THIS MASTERPIECE. This might be one of my new favourites from your Zae!! (even if I say so every time LMAO)

You know how downbad I am for solo Arthur. For utterly frustrated Arthur, taking matters into his own hands. Oh God this was perfect. As aways, I'm caught right from the beggining:

Channeling the self-control of a brigade of soldiers, Arthur willed his unruly cock flaccid as he left the post office.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is how you open up a perfect fic 😂😂. Seriously, though, I loved how you gave some context about their relationship in a light way, not too much info dumping, but just enough to understand Arthur's point of view. Looooved this passage

Every time he passed by the quiet homestead, he found himself lightly pulling on Boadicea’s reins and scoping out something to fix. Your ways of showing gratitude, like a hug or kiss on the cheek, turned his neck to shades of crimson, yet he’d still come knocking again some time later. On his last visit, you were dragging him to your room by cotton suspenders, mouth attached to his before he could get a word in. An innocent lamb you were not—he was sure of it now in a half-daze, hypnotized by your breasts as you bounced on top of him. Matter of fact, you must’ve been a witch or a succubus; he’d never felt so used, drained, and perfectly satisfied.

I was wondering if I could use the word succubus a few days ago for my own writing, and I'm very grateful you showed me that yes indeed!! I love how he's all yearning here, not doing anything explicitly to win her over but just coming back every time. I could totally picture him do that. And oh yes, yes, yes, he deserves to be drained like that 😏😏

And of course, the heart of the matter is absolutely brilliant and delightfully written.

Fuck, he wanted to rip that photographer’s head clean off his shoulders for capturing you like that, but goddamn, he wanted to shake the man’s hand too. This slip of paper was a slice of heaven on Earth.

I laughed sm at this!!! I can totally imagine him getting all jealous the photographer saw her nude but being so grateful at the same time, confused boy 😂. Also please, just the fact tha you managed to transcribe sexting and sending nudes to fcking 1899 is MASTERFUL Zae!! I'm in awe as always!!

I had a dream about you. Do you ever dream about me?   The bulge in his pants begged for attention, and he appeased it, palming himself idly while his eyes stayed trained on the photograph. He’s too old and weathered for this—pining over some girl and touching himself like he’d gotten a second wind of puberty. 

I love how you start it slow. Two simple sentences, and he's gone. And I'm too, to be honest 😤

His cock sprung free, twitching and yearning. Flicking his eyes to your photo once more, his right hand moved on its own, kneading his leaking tip. He peeked over the edge of the paper, watching precum drizzle down his shaft, imagining it was you leaking around him. 

*sighs*. Click. Bzzzzzz (seriously this is a fucking treat to read Zae. Thank you for writing and sharing your magic with us mortals.)

Also, the part when he wishes for more photos; sooo hot of course (loved how he would even provided money for it eheh) but also, the need to have a proper one? What a perfect way to show his need for actual love and affection on top of lust. This is an incredible "show don't tell", I'm on my knees rn.

Jesus all the parts about Arthur being eager in her dream, I was MELTING Zae. The way you wrote him reacting to specific sentences and parts is just so perfect. I'm repeating myself, but it was just incredible to read and so vivid and interactive, even if we're still just readers. I don't know why and how but I felt so involved!

I get the feeling that you do a lot of taking care of other folks and don’t get that in return. Am I right? I’d take care of you, Arthur. I’d keep your belly full and drain your balls all in a night. They tightened at the thought, and his hips were a piston now, going up and down on their own accord.

See? Stuff like this. It's absolutely wonderful. I was SO turned on I should be ashamed!!! And oh, that part with the necklace 😏🔥 Very very clever once more. And so erotic! You bet your ass he's an excited mess. What a tease!!

And oh, the climax. His climax. Our climaxes. This had the effect intended, dear, I've been way too much impacted by it.

Don’t think me too crass, but do you touch yourself to my letters like I touch myself to yours? Yours are more well-mannered than mine. But still, I wonder, is your fist wrapped around your cock? “Yes, darlin.”  Goddamnit, he was talking to himself now, arm cramping as he pumped feverishly at his engorged dick, his orgasm waiting to explode behind his eyes. Do you imagine it’s me instead? I wish it was me. I wish I was on top of you again, milking you for everything you’ve got. Would you give it to me this time, Arthur? Would you spill inside of me? And spill he did, teeth gritted and grunting, as hot ropes of lust spurted out over his hand. Once again, he’d made a mess of himself on account of you.

This was too good Zae. I won't recover from this one until a long time 😮‍💨I was in the same state as him honestly, this wrecked me 😂

And the last line, so light and fluffy. Our dear baby, always longing and yearning. Perfectly wrapped!

What can I say more? One of my favorite fantasies to read, written by one of my favorite authors?? What more could I've asked for? Thank you so much for this incredible piece Zae!!!

Causerie

Summary: You send Arthur a letter. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female!reader Word Count: 2,185 Tags: Male Masturbation, solo handjob, mentions of oral and unprotected p in v, dirty talk, long distance relationship, high honor Warnings: 18+ MDNI

an: So this came out of nowhere LMAO It's a bit different from what I'm used to, but I ran with it. The mentioned photo was heavily inspired by @sir-walton-goggins's under-the-cut sketch of their OC, Kris Blake. 😍😍😍 I hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading!

Causerie: an informal conversation

Channeling the self-control of a brigade of soldiers, Arthur willed his unruly cock flaccid as he left the post office. An envelope addressed to Tacitus Kilgore in familiar dainty cursive teased him from inside his satchel. The nagging twinge in his gut could only be satiated by his fist wrapped tight around himself in the solitude of his tent. 

He didn’t know how he’d make it through the rest of the day without losing his sanity. Once you’d unknowingly planted the seeds, his thoughts of you grew wild and untamed like the weeds at your feet. He’d never seen something so ridiculous—a woman in her day dress, the lacy hem stained with dirt, trying to repair a loose fence post on her own.

“No man ’round here?” he had asked, holding his hand out for the hammer.

“There is now.”

You beamed, your smile stunning him like a camera flash. Unbeknownst to him, that grin was a brand, marking him as yours for a long time to come. 

Every time he passed by the quiet homestead, he found himself lightly pulling on Boadicea’s reins and scoping out something to fix. Your ways of showing gratitude, like a hug or kiss on the cheek, turned his neck to shades of crimson, yet he’d still come knocking again some time later. On his last visit, you were dragging him to your room by cotton suspenders, mouth attached to his before he could get a word in.

An innocent lamb you were not—he was sure of it now in a half-daze, hypnotized by your breasts as you bounced on top of him. Matter of fact, you must’ve been a witch or a succubus; he’d never felt so used, drained, and perfectly satisfied.

And guilty, too. He couldn’t even look at you as he confessed to his life of criminality, finally admitting what he’d come to tell you in the first place. After this job, he was leaving for good.

To his surprise, you didn’t put up a fight—just wished him well—and dammit, that made him want you even more. You didn’t follow him outside—only watched from under the blanket as he said his last goodbye and promise.

“I’ll write t’you.”

Receiving your letters kept his heart ticking and dick aching. What started as a pile of polite notes quickly transformed into a library of erotica. His hands trembled in anticipation as he opened the latest letter. 

Dear Arthur, 

Are you still alive? I hope you haven’t gone and gotten yourself killed. I’m sorry if I kept you waiting. A new photographer opened up in town, and I stopped by the studio one evening just before he closed. I may have batted my lashes and stood a little too close when I asked for his help. A special photo of me would be the perfect gift for my dear husband, who was about to be shipped away to war in the Philippines. You should’ve seen how red he got when I dropped my blouse. I tried to sit pretty. Did it work?

A photo? Arthur checked the discarded envelope, searching for the supposed gift. A small photo was still tucked away in the envelope. He took it out and held it up to the lantern to get a good look.

Christ.

You were directly in the center of the camera with a lazy smile on your face. Pearls adorned your neck, and velvet cloth draped over your shoulders, just barely covering those twin humps on your chest. Fuck, he wanted to rip that photographer’s head clean off his shoulders for capturing you like that, but goddamn, he wanted to shake the man’s hand too. This slip of paper was a slice of heaven on Earth.

And for what he was about to do with it, he was going straight to hell. Setting the letter aside, the gunslinger undressed down to his union suit with the ardor of his twenty-year-old self. As he settled back onto the cot, he locked on to your sultry eyes and sighed contently.

I had a dream about you. Do you ever dream about me?  

The bulge in his pants begged for attention, and he appeased it, palming himself idly while his eyes stayed trained on the photograph. He’s too old and weathered for this—pining over some girl and touching himself like he’d gotten a second wind of puberty. 

But he couldn’t help it. Even after deafening gun fights and vicious animal attacks, he’d find a letter to re-read, and now he had this picture to accompany his fantasies. His gaze shifted from the photo back to your words on the page. 

We were in this beautiful room in a palace or someplace like that, swimming under blankets. It was far from my humble bed, but it felt like paradise. 

If only you knew, that little bed was his paradise.

Dream you tasted like whiskey and ash and smelled like leather and gunpowder. I don’t think it was too far off from the real thing. We weren’t wearing any clothes, of course, and your head was tucked between my thighs. 

Breath shaking, his hips shifted upward, the memory of your thighs on either side of him overwhelming his senses. Arthur sucked in his bottom lip and didn’t waste any more time undoing the bottom two buttons of his union suit. His cock sprung free, twitching and yearning. Flicking his eyes to your photo once more, his right hand moved on its own, kneading his leaking tip. He peeked over the edge of the paper, watching precum drizzle down his shaft, imagining it was you leaking around him. 

Oh, Arthur, I could feel your lips on every part of me at once, kissing up my stomach, bosom, arms, thighs, legs, all over. But when you found my lips again, I don’t know how my pounding heart didn’t suck me out of the dream. Has anyone ever told you how gorgeous your eyes are or how heavenly your hands feel? And your back, Mister Morgan, is like a brick wall. How I wish I could’ve dug my nails into it.

Arthur’s fisted pace quickened as he stifled a groan, trying his very best to keep the sounds of his sin quiet. He urged himself downward into the cot, hoping the friction could mimic the sting of your nails dragging down his spine, but it was no use. Tightening his grip in frustration, he turned his attention back to the photograph of you. He wanted to study your hands, to imprint them in his mind’s eye so he could imagine them scratching his back and pleasuring his cock.

But the photo was too close up, only your face and a peak of your breasts captured at that moment in time. Would he be too brazen to ask for another? To request a pose? Hell—he’d stuff the money in an envelope with a list of the depraved positions he’d like to see you in. Your hands on your bust, legs spread open, on all fours, one with your pretty fingers in your mouth, and a full body shot with just the pearls. Dammit—he’d kill for it. 

But then, at the very end of the list, he’d ask for a respectable one. One of you with your hair pinned up under a fancy hat, dressed in your finest, wearing a necklace, earrings, and a bracelet with your hands folded politely over your lap. One that was sweet and proper. One that he could tuck in his journal, frame, or pin up on the wagon. One that he could take out in broad daylight and pretend, just for a moment, that he really was that war vet admiring a photo of his loving spouse.

His hips moved involuntarily again, jutting up into his fist—the placeholder for the pussy of the woman he’d one day make his wife.

I didn’t plan to get you in bed that night, as unbelievable as that may sound. You were just so damn handsome and so so kind. I couldn’t help it. I needed to know how you’d feel inside me. I hope you don’t see me as just some Jezebel.

“No,” he gasped out. Wet sounds of his strokes accompanied his declaration.

I really did and still do have feelings for you, Arthur. It’s quite scary, actually. Maybe that’s why my dreams about you are so vivid? I realized just how much I cared that night, looking down into your eyes. I don’t take you as the type of man to just give yourself away on a normal day like that, so I hope you feel the same way as me. Did I ever say thank you? Thank you for being such a giver. I have a tendency to take, take, take when I’m on top, but you got payback in my dream. You had me pinned under all of your weight, damn near suffocating me. It was the good type, though. When you pushed into me, I forgot all about it. I never took you for an eager man either, but you were drilling me into those blankets with the fervor of a threshing machine. Are you an eager man, Mister Morgan?

He answered in shallow pants, twisting his fist around his length and rocking his hips. 

I have a curse of waking up right when I’m on the edge, so as you can imagine, I had a wet problem to take care of. My fingers just don’t quite do it like you. I wish we could’ve had more time together. I get the feeling that you do a lot of taking care of other folks and don’t get that in return. Am I right? I’d take care of you, Arthur. I’d keep your belly full and drain your balls all in a night.

They tightened at the thought, and his hips were a piston now, going up and down on their own accord.

I know you’d never ask because you’re too nice, but I’d get on my knees for you and take care of you in that way. I’m sad we never got to try it, that I never got to taste you. The thought gave me the silliest idea. Are you looking at my picture? Imagine that pearl necklace is your spend on my chest.

Jesus—the perverted imagery hit him like a train. He looked at the pretty pearls atop your chest. Goddamn, minx. 

Don’t think me too crass, but do you touch yourself to my letters like I touch myself to yours? Yours are more well-mannered than mine. But still, I wonder, is your fist wrapped around your cock?

“Yes, darlin.” 

Goddamnit, he was talking to himself now, arm cramping as he pumped feverishly at his engorged dick, his orgasm waiting to explode behind his eyes.

Do you imagine it’s me instead? I wish it was me. I wish I was on top of you again, milking you for everything you’ve got. Would you give it to me this time, Arthur? Would you spill inside of me?

And spill he did, teeth gritted and grunting, as hot ropes of lust spurted out over his hand. Once again, he’d made a mess of himself on account of you.

Shame crept in as he floated back to reality and stared up at the canvas of his tent. He brought the letter back to his face to read the last paragraph. The least he should do was finish it—dirty old bastard. But when he landed on your words and processed them, he was left with a numb, longing ache in his chest.

If we were together, I’d help clean you up, then maybe we could spend the rest of the night all tangled up in each other. I’m sorry I’m not there to touch you for real, but I hope these letters bring a little light to that hard, lonely life of yours. If I can make you feel good, even from far away, that’s enough for me. I miss you. Any chance you could come see me soon? 

Yours.

Arthur sighed and folded your letter back up neatly, tucking it away in his now hollowed-out copy of Rambles Through Woods and Plains. Though your photo and letter were out of sight, his mind refused to wander from the subject of you.

An assortment of motion pictures flickered in his memory: the way your head tipped in laughter at his dry sarcasm, how you so graciously welcomed him to that sitdown meal, the way you worried about him just as much as he worried about you, and how your words, even from afar, brought him unmeasurable comfort. Making it back across the Upper Montana could be a brutal fight, but he’d outrun the law and take a few bullets if he had to. He’d bare it all to bring you back with him. 

As he relaxed into the cot, another thought drifted by, small and almost weightless like a dandelion seed in the wind: maybe he wouldn’t have to bring you back at all. Perhaps he could stay right there with you.

[kingdoms-and-empires]

Hello there! I want to say, I LOVE your story! Fantastic world, fantastic characters, and plot. I can't wait for more (please, give us plebs some food! I mean more chapters and updates.) And by the way, I am happy to hear you are back on your feet. I noticed something in the RO options: Why does the M!MC have 1 Gay romance and the F!MC 1 Lesbian and 1 Bi? Don't you think that is a bit limiting? Is there a narrative reason? Thank you, and I wish you the best. :D Good Day!

It's supposed to be a surprise, but since im close to releasing the public update... in the Great Rewrite, all the ROs are playersexual now. They're open to be romanced no matter what!

Im telling you since your words made me smile <3 and cause i cant hold it in anymore!

I'm aiming for a more grounded romantasy feeling for KaE since romance will be very important to the story. Especially the whole potential-

-problems that'll happen once a certain point is reached.

(I recently rewatched the Revenge of the Sith in the recent rerun lmao)

I've always thought of my work as being inspired by

Homeric Epics (i was always a fan of Greek and Roman myths and stuff since i was young.)

Nordic Sagas but mostly Beowulf (only got into them cause of Vikings the show lololol, but I found myself increasingly engrossed by the Sagas)

Romance of the Three Kingdoms (Dynasty Warriors 4: Empires on the Xbox 360 introduced me to the series and ive been in love since lol)

And because of the above, the game series Nobunaga's Ambition.

Plus isekai and reincarnation manga/anime in general!

I feel like what makes worlds and stories interesting isn't the worldbuilding (though that helps alot, and is without a doubt my crutch atm) but the human emotions that can cause characters to act out, crash out, and do the things they do that can throw a wrench in any well-laid plan.

The new version is far more character driven than before as a result, and I love it. And what's more emotional than love?

The geopolitics, intrigue, war, kingdom building, and the rest of what makes KaE KaE is remaining, of course! Hell, I'd say there's even MORE now, as some of my Patreons would most likely agree with.

It's just that romance is being elevated to be more important to me.

I made this decision a while back because I felt the narrative and restrictive reasons of before no longer hold up with the rewrite changes I made to the world and story.

Cause I changed ALOT.

And we never really even met a majority of the ROs in previous versions so... it's not like im doing something like changing characters yall know and romanced lol, which btw, is ironically a bonus with all the rewrites and time ive taken to find my bearings with this story ;-;

Who helped me reach this decision a while back?

Why...

@when-life-gives-you-lemons-if thank you for putting up with me!!!!!

@leiatalon also helped me reach this decision (also thanks for putting up with me)!!!!!

Both are published authors with multiple titles below their belt that focus on romance, so they definitely had my rapt attention. They were especially kind enough to share their experiences and some advice when it comes to that area with me, and its thanks to their encouragement that I felt this was the right decision.

Please, check out their Tumblr blogs and look at the games they've released! They might interest you!!

What may also interest you?

You can actually see all the progress reports ive given on Patreon! They're free, and you can start from oldest to newest. Plus other articles that detail what im adding to the new version that's soon to release to the public. After all, this upcoming update is the last one that ends our childhood! And it'll be the one that finally makes it so everyone of you can read what I've worked on.

Once my Patreons test out the epilogue for the arc and give me the all clear, the public will get it!

That's all from me for now. Im still busy at work with the epilogue!

[molinaskies]

Silver the Hedgehog: Refugee of a Future Lost to Time

I don’t find myself thinking about Silver a lot, and that’s a bit of a crime honestly. But when I do, I’m struck by how in the weeds I become about his existence. Silver the Hedgehog starts as a young boy with psychokinesis* born into a world on fire. He wants to fix it but doesn’t know how.

*worth mentioning here that while Lore™️ consistently refers to Silver’s power as psychokinesis (the ability to control minds and conjure specific actions from people), his powers in practice are actually much more aligned with the definition of telekinesis (the ability to control objects and manipulate their movement in space).

He despairs with Blaze over the life they live and the nerve-ending cycle of it all, then meets a mouthless hedgehog who claims to have all the answers. In his desperation, Silver clings to the sliver of hope he provides… and this is something I think we often find ourselves forgetting.

Silver never had the power to travel through time—at least, not independently. Mephiles did. Later on, the game establishes that two people can open a time portal through the power of our favourite plot device, the Chaos Emeralds, via Chaos Control.

Through Contrivance’s Paradise, Silver (and company) were just… able to time travel because that’s what the plot needed, but Silver, as an individual, never had the embedded power to travel through time.

I’m still endlessly annoyed that this anniversary game didn’t shoehorn an excuse to bring back the time stones from Sonic CD, but alas.

Silver was barely a figment in the canon imagination after Sonic 06. His appearances in Rivals are just excuses to reintroduce him into the series (because, remember, Sonic 06 removes itself from the timeline by the end of its story), and his appearances there don’t mention his time travelling at all. He appears (for kinda no explainable reason) in Generations, but then… nothing! Absolutely nothing… for FIVE YEARS.

And yet, in 2025’s mainline canon, Silver is just the Time Traveler™️. Since Sonic 06 never happened, the nature of Silver’s time travel beyond Sonic 06 has always been vague, at best. 

The running logic seems to be that Silver, through no intentional act of his own, is sent into the past when something catastrophic needs to be stopped. Silver is a being somehow tied to the fate of the world. Silver has been chosen by Time itself to protect it… which is something I kind of love, to be honest.

If Sonic is just a hedgehog who showed up one day and decided to do good, then Silver is a sort of divine guardian of his travels.

It’s taken canon a bit of time to settle into this interpretation, but the IDW comics have taken pretty much any opportunity they can to establish this fact as fact.

In issue 3 of the Sonic Forces prequel comics, Silver returns from the future to warn Knuckles about the Eggman Empire’s success, which implies that Silver has some sense of control over his time travel.

In mainline IDW 8, Silver returns to the present after winning the war didn’t save his future, under the same pretense that he can just… do that.

However, by the end of the Meal Virus comic arc (IDW 12-29), in a pretty monumental move for his story, Silver’s future is officially saved.

IDW 31

Now, having done the damn thing and guaranteed a Good Future™️, Silver is free to be a kid again… and for his efforts, as I intend to argue, Time rewards him…

…by sending him back to the past where all the bullshit is happening lmao. Hear me out.

In the IDW Sonic 2022 annual, Silver returns to the present, but this time he has no idea why or how*. This is when canon decides to remove the pretense of Silver having active control of his time traveling. It’s largely implied that Silver will be in the present for the foreseeable future (no pun intended).

*I’ve included the proof for this below as it’s more directly relevant to another point I’m making in a moment.

With the inauguration of Fast Friends Forever, the SEGA initiative that champions friendship through a lore-centric focus on Sonic and his friends in and out of the games, Silver’s time travel is explicitly explained as external to his control.

By IDW 58, Silver is roped back into the mainline plot, and it’s made abundantly clear that he no longer has  never had the ability to travel freely through time.

So, Silver’s arc becomes about finding his place and trying to live life without the demand of proactivity—to enjoy the moment while making the most of the life he has.

But… why? Why must he do this? Why take him down this road?

Silver the Hedgehog starts as a young boy with psychokinesis born into a world on fire. That world no longer exists.

Silver the Hedgehog became a young boy with psychokinesis born into a world dominated by the Eggman Empire. That world no longer exists.

Silver the Hedgehog further became a young boy with psychokinesis left behind by a world decimated by metallic disease. That world no longer exists.

With every trip to the past, every day saved, Silver rewrites his own life for the sake of his world—so much so that there’s nothing for him when he returns. His entire world has changed. People he might have known before cease to exist as they once were.

When Silver saved his future, he sacrificed his place within it—because once he saved his future, his future ceased to exist. Instead, a new future curates itself in Silver’s absence because he wasn’t there to be a part of it.

Returning to the IDW 2022 annual:

It seems that Time has sent him back to the place—the time—he belongs… where he has unwittingly planted his roots.

Something which Espio so elegantly points out.

Thanks to his sacrifices, Silver is no longer the Omen of Disaster. He’s Silver the Hedgehog: the psychokinetic. Silver the Hedgehog: the kid.

He is Silver the Hedgehog: Refugee of the Future, and he deserves nothing more but to blossom in the garden of most significance to him, among the flowers he loves so dear.

[faitomato]

in honor of me quitting my job as a cake decorator of 5 years, a list of memorable highlights and repeat events

been asked to draw: dicks (no)

boobs (no) (at least 4x)

SO MANY extravagant cakes that are covered in fondant (which we did not work with) that would easily cost hundreds of dollars, and then the client getting miffed when i say it’s either impossible or will cost them hundreds of dollars

cakes with the ugliest color scheme you can imagine and i am forced to use it anyway

2 tier cake with jungle animals drawn on the SIDES all the way around, that my manager took when i was clearly trying to refuse the order because i had been there for maybe 6 months and was not confident. surprise surprise the client wanted it gussied up more upon arrival because she was expecting an extravagant cake like the ones described above

people being pissy about the kit up charge

many many times of people wanting drawings and then getting pissy when i told them it was also an up charge

that time a woman clearly set up her order to be “wrong” (and called before picking it up with the question of “is there anything i don’t want on it?” ????) and instantly asked for something for free when she saw that it was “wrong.” and then looked SO affronted when i said no that i had to get my asst. manager to deal with her

a woman calling about “wedding cookies” getting upset that we didn’t have them, and going “well now i know you’re not a real bakery.” i barely held myself back from replying “maam this is a grocery store”

the most exasperated and annoyed man in the world: “CHOCOLATE. ECLAIRS??” and nothing else

the mexican man who wanted a “3 milks cake” and looked so broken and confused when i finally realized he wanted Tres Leches, and i could figure that out but not when it was in english. rip sir

that woman who went “no no no. i hate buttercream, hate hate HATE IT” like a child when i asked her if i could use choc buttercream instead of the whipped i was out of. you live in my brain maam

her mirrorverse self who was so disgusted with our whipped icing that she told us we should stop stocking it. period. because she didn’t like it.

people not understanding wtf copyright and copyright infringement are

“do you have cookie cakes?” when they’re standing right in front of the rack

“how much is that” when the price is right in front of them both in the case and on a giant screen above my head

“what cake flavor/kind of icing is this?” when there is a sticker for each on the freaking container

“can i have a cake made for an hour from now?” no

people not knowing what freaking colors they’re talking about and getting upset when i didn’t get it right (teal and turquoise are not the same color. you don’t know what indigo is.)

this one is entirely staff related but that time i literally almost broke my own toe when i kicked the freezer door in rage after my coworker let me down (again) by screwing up every order for that morning, most importantly one that was for the deacon of my church. wildly enough he didn’t come back after that

and now. the names and phrases

happy birthday poopoo head (x3)

alexzandrew (made his cake every year. for the record he’s 7 and goes by just alex now. i would too kid)

britten

mei-ling (this is only notable because it was for a freaking shitzu)

lyrch

jerith (yes like the goblin king)

loki (okay marvel fan girl)

congratulations pastor X of X church and happy birthday you are blessed and we love you (this is made up but this lady would order paragraphs like this all the time)

what i swear was half the bible

so many more names that made me want to cry or hold back laughter. mckarty and taylee level stuff but somehow worse

there are many, MANY more but i worked there for 5 years and didn’t write anything down so these are just off the top of my head. and to give you an idea of why i quit, i made 111 of the 124 easter cakes we had to make this season :) just as one example

[ivebeenherebefore25]

What Is Love Worth? 1/?

"Melissa and I have been together for a few months, now. Well, not together together, but she spends quite a bit of time in my bed, though. The problem is this: she's seeing someone. A man. A firefighter. She a came into the teachers lounge a couple days ago and announced that she wants to 'go steady' with him. With actual tears in her eyes. But she came to me, that same night." I say with an exasperated expression etched onto my face. "I mean, sometimes I feel like I'm going crazy here with her, like, she says she wants me, but she shows me she wants him," My voice cracks as tears form in my eyes. "And I know I get too attached, too quickly, and I fall hard, but maybe it isn't just me this time. I don't know. What do I do?"

There is a slight pause on the other end of the phone before a response is granted. "Lottie, relationships are complicated, and nothing will change that, but when it comes to situations like this, especially for someone with your type of personality disorder, the effects can be extremely damaging. It can amplify what is already present, while simultaneously creating new things in your subconscious that will manifest eventually, if they haven't already." I take my bottom lip between my teeth and sink my teeth hard as I take in the words of my newest therapist. "I can't tell you what to do, but my question for you is: Why do you continue to allow her back? What makes you feel the need to do that, even though it always makes you feel bad afterward?" 

The question swirls in my brain for longer than I'm comfortable with before I realize I'm unable to give an answer. To my therapist, or myself. "I- I don't know," A breathe catches in my throat as I glance around my living room. "I need to go. Thank you, Doctor."

What makes me do this, even though I always feel bad after? 

I don't know. 

I do know the softness of her skin. I know the scent of her rosemary and peach shampoo; and it smells delicious by the way. I know the way her voice rises and falls in the midst of pleasure. I know the way she loves her students, and the impact she has on them. I know the way her marriage traumatized her in the name of love. I know the ways she enjoys. Melissa is so full of light, I can't not be drawn to her like a moth to a flame. The darkness in me settles for the few short hours she is here. With me. The tears begin to form again, and that will lead to nowhere good, so I make my way to bedroom to gather my things for a bath. 

_

The bathroom is thick with the scent of bath oil and candles. I turn the hot water on and let it fill the tub, water diluting the oil, and I run to my kitchen to grab my pink whitney and my blunt. I return to the bathroom and the tub is full, so I shut it off and shed my oversized sweater from my small frame. Jumping into the shower beside the bathtub I wash my hair first, before making my way up, down, across, and between my body with soap. Another soap for my sensitive bits, face wash, body wash, and finally: moisturizer bar! Now, time to relax. I hope into the bathtub quickly, and the now warm water encombasses my body. I grab my blunt and spark it with an excited smile. I fucking love weed. I chase my first few hits with a couple of shots, as tomorrow is saturday, and I desperatly need to pretend I'm someone else right now. Only, I just realized I forgot to eat....and the alcohol wastes no time getting the job done. I shrug it off and enjoy my blunt, throwing my head back and letting the aroma of the oils take me away. Peach and rosemary. Who knew it could be so intoxicating? The smoke swirls as I trail my free hand down my chest to my breast. I imagine it's her as I tail my fingertip around my nipple. An idea pops into my head then. A bad idea, but an idea nonetheless. And, also, how can it be bad when it just feels so good? 

Existing the bathtub, I grab my light blue, silk robe from the hook on the door and head to my bed to retrieve my phone. I bite my lip as I open my camera and turn to my full lenght mirror in the corner of my room. I press record as I sink to my knees slowly, catching my relfection at a godly angle, as I slowly pull the robe to the side, exposing my small tits. My stomach twists and turns as I rewatch the video before sending it to my favorite redhead, and turning back to my mirror to quickly snap a few more slutty picture for her viewing pleasure. When I've finished I pace my room for a second before heading over to my vanity and applying my lotions, creams, and deodorant. I mix a few of my favorite perfumes to achieve my desired scent before tossing myself onto my bed and checking my phone.  

2 missed calls from Mel Mel <3 

My heart races and a smile spreads across my as I read the notifications.My thumb hovers over the facetime button before I finally press it. The phone rings for a split second beforeshe picks up. My breath hitches as I take her in, she is so beautiful. "Mel," I say, my voice somewhere between moan and a breathe. "Come." "I will. Right now." Her voice is hushed in her reply, and she hangs up as quickly as she answered. 

I roll around in my bed kicking my feet as I imagine what's to come. Twenty minutes later and I'm taking more shots while I'm lounging on my couch waiting for my itialian beauty, and it isn't much longer before there is a frantic knock on my door. I jump from my seat and run to let her in. As soon as the door is cracked she's pushing her way inside and shoving me back up against it, hands groping and squeezing as her mouth crashes against mine. Our kiss is wet and sloppy as she fights me for the dominance we both know she'll never win. Melissa pushes her body flush against mine as I circle my arms around her waist, my hands trailing lower to the palm at her gorgeous ass through her thin black leggings, as she moans into my mouth. "I've missed you, Amante." Her words light a fire in the pit of my stomach, and I feel my eyes darken as I make a 'tsk' sound. I plant a soft kiss on her lips as I trail my hand up her chest, around her throat, and to the back of her head. "Have you now? I was under the impression you've been quite distracted," She looks at me with a sheepish expression as I grab a fistful of her hair and guide her to her knees. "To the couch. Go." I hear Melissa's breath hitch as she crawls over to the couch, propping back on her legs when she makes it. She looks as me with a parted mouth and I can't help but think of all the pretty sounds she's about to be making. All for me. I hold her stare as I make my way to her slowly, caressing the side of her jaw, slighly, as I take my seat in front of her leaning forward to sjisper against her lips. "Stand up and strip for me, hm? Show me what a good whore you can be." Melissa strips slowly, teasingly, exposing mere inches of her soft flesh at a time. Her leggings are the first to go, offering me a perfect view of her ass when she turns and bends to remove them. "No panties?" I ask, amusement coating my voice. "What for?" Melissa replies as she drags her shirt over her head. She cups her breasts and squeezes as I stare up at her, my mouth watering heavily. "Good girl. You're learning."

[mummyemmatojames]

31. A Timeless Dynamic: Removing Clocks and Controlling the Calendar

Hello, dear community! Emma here, your Mummy-in-training, with an exciting update on our MDLB and FLR journey. I recently made a powerful adjustment by removing all the clocks from our home, and I’ve also taken full control of James’s non-work diary, which has deepened his submission in such a beautiful way. These changes have woven our dynamic even tighter, and I’m thrilled to share how they’re working for us. I’d love to hear your thoughts and experiences with similar tools in your own dynamics!

The Change: A House Without Time

The clock removal started as a way to strip away James’s sense of control over his routine. I took down every clock—kitchen, living room, bedroom, gone. Now, he has no idea what time it is unless I grant him supervised phone time, which is rare. This leaves him completely reliant on my cues, like a real child waiting for Mummy’s guidance. He wakes up unsure of the hour, lying in bed until I greet him with, “Good morning, sweetie, time to start the day.” I call out when it’s time to eat, play, or get ready for work—“James, time to get dressed for work, sweetie,” or “Five minutes before bed, honey.” It’s slowed him down, deepened his trust, and made our dynamic feel effortless.

Controlling the Calendar: Every Moment Mine to Shape

Beyond time, I’ve also taken charge of James’s non-work diary, and it’s been a game-changer. Everything outside his job—social plans, hobbies, even small errands—requires my permission. If he wants to see friends or do something, he asks me, and I decide whether it fits our dynamic and schedule (I always en outage him to see his friends as he is naturally introverted!). I add it to our shared calendar, or I might take the lead and arrange something myself, like a hangout with his buddies. Funnily enough, his friends have always jokingly called me his “secretary” for organizing things, so this feels like a natural extension to them—no one bats an eye when I confirm plans or set times.

Each morning, during our nursing session, I cradle James skin-to-skin, his top off for that close, childlike connection, and we talk about the day ahead. I’ll say, “Today, sweetie, we’re having lunch at home, then you’re seeing Tom for coffee at 3:00—I’ve set it up.” Or, “No plans tonight, just us for a cozy movie.” He listens, nestled against me, absorbing the day’s shape from my words. It’s a tender moment that sets the tone, reinforcing that I’m in charge of his world outside work, and he just needs to follow my lead.

James’s Response: Trust and Vulnerability

These changes have really brought out James’s little side. Without clocks, he’s surrendered his sense of time, waiting patiently for my cues with a quiet trust that melts my heart. The diary control has taken it further—he no longer plans his own life outside work, and I can see how it grounds him. He’s admitted it feels freeing to ask permission and let me handle the details, even if it’s humbling to need my okay for a simple coffee with a friend. During our morning nursing, his eyes soften as I outline the day, and he clings to me a bit tighter, like he’s soaking up the safety of my control. It’s vulnerable for him, but he’s embracing it with the strength I adore.

Why It’s So Powerful: A Complete Power Exchange

Removing clocks and controlling his diary work together to create a seamless power exchange. Time and plans are adult anchors, but for James, they’re now in my hands, just as they would be for a child. He doesn’t need to worry about when or what—he trusts me to decide, whether it’s bedtime or a friend’s meetup. The morning nursing chats make it even more special, blending nurturing with structure as I set his day in motion. It’s not about limiting him; it’s about building a world where he feels secure, loved, and free to be my little boy.

My Joy: Leading with Love

I’m over the moon with how these tools have strengthened our dynamic. Calling out, “Time for lunch, little one,” or adding a playdate to his calendar makes me feel so connected to my role as Mummy. Organizing his life outside work—down to texting his friends to confirm plans—gives me a quiet confidence, knowing I’m shaping his world with care. The nursing sessions, where I lay out the day while he rests against me, are some of our most precious moments. It’s a perfect balance of authority and tenderness, and I feel so fulfilled leading him this way.

What Do You Think?

I’d love to hear from you, community! Have you used tools like removing clocks or controlling schedules to deepen your dynamic—how did they transform your connection? What other ways do you help your little let go of adult responsibilities? For those whose partners lean into vulnerability like James, how do you nurture their trust while keeping them grounded? And any tips for making morning rituals like our nursing chats even more special? I’m all ears for your wisdom as we keep growing.

Thank you for being part of this journey with us. James is my precious little boy, and I’m so grateful to guide him through every timeless, carefully planned moment.

With all my warmth,

Emma (aka Mummy) 💕

[hooleidoscope]

Long post/rant ahead:

Ever since the Hellaverse announcement, I’ve been thinking about people who think SpindleHorse “sold out” to Amazon.

Now, don’t get me wrong. Amazon is a monopoly of a mega-corporation run by a morally bankrupt billionaire. If you can buy things from elsewhere, I always recommend doing so. Support small businesses, local businesses, and creators.

Here’s where the ‘but’ comes in: I am in a position to where I understand why SpindleHorse may have signed on with Amazon…because Amazon is my publisher.

My book, and any books in the series that I may complete, are distributed only through Amazon booksellers or myself. And no, I’m not talking about me uploading a rough word file and slapping a picture on it and calling it a novel. I mean that I worked with my editing team and formatting team to decide which options to pursue, and Amazon’s KindleDirect was the best option for me for my debut, especially as a POC author with POC characters.

And here’s the rub about indie publishing vs. traditional: publishers like KindleDirect allow authors and creatives to keep full creative control of their work, how much it sells for, and what formats to offer it in. Nearly all of my indie published author friends publish through Kindle. Some go through Ingram, but only a few of the authors in my local community traditionally published their works through printing houses. Traditional publishers don’t often give an author any say unless the author makes a shit ton of money off of their book. If an author’s work doesn’t live up to the publishing house’s expectations on signing, they can remove your work from print entirely. I’ve seen this happen, an author I know well had her duology taken out of print because it didn’t “sell well” and she was only left with the copies she had on hand.

But with Amazon and Kindle, I have control over that. If I ever decide to remove my work from published platforms, I do so on my own terms. Another caveat is that with Kindle, I make 35%-60% profit off of each copy sold. That may not sound like a lot, but it needs to be known at how little authors normally get from book sales. The fact that I can make over half of what a paperback or ebook costs is massive. And I won’t lie, I am no bestseller. I am an indie author with a modest following of readers, but if I had gone traditional, I probably would have been dumped years ago.

And the worst part: my contract states I can only sell through Amazon, or through deals struck by me, the author. For example, a local cafe near me usually has my book in stock with a wide variety of other local authors in my state. And a few readers have gotten my book in libraries. This doesn’t breach my contract because me selling a book at an event or it being distributed by a library or small business isn’t a conflict of interest; because the book was purchased either by me or the reader, then the book is either offered for free or sold at a lower tag price. But if I went to say, Barnes & Noble to sell it at whatever they decided was suitable, then Amazon has every right to nix me from Kindle entirely, because it’s in my contract that another large, international bookseller can’t sell my work because then that bookseller gets all the profits. Not Amazon, and certainly not me.

I imagine it’s similar with Helluva Boss, and that is why it’s on Prime first, then can be posted to YouTube by SpindleHorse directly. It’s why there’s a waiting period. Amazon has to get their end of the deal first, then SpindleHorse can do as they please with it.

I don’t know the ins and outs of the animation business or television contracts, but with Amazon, I have found it’s almost better to be with the devil you know that lets you have a modicum of control and access to your own work. And as much as it sucks ass for this to be one of the few viable options out there aside from trying to get a larger publisher or studio to notice…I, and I’m sure Viv, would rather keep control over the integrity of what we put out there.

And if that makes people like her or me sell outs, then sure. I guess we did. But our creativity and works depend on that in order to be distributed to the public in the way we intend.

[transfemme-shelterdog]

I'm a trans man who had literally been groomed by a trans woman.

And I will say that it did take a while before I came to terms with it, and have only told very few. Roughly 2 people I'm actually sure. But the self-consciousness and self-hatred from what happened was something I struggled with a lot.

I was 14 when we met. She was 17.

I was almost 16 when we "broke up".

I'll never really accept it as being in a relationship. As she made me turn my world upside down for her. We were exclusively online. She lived on the other side of the world. And got mad when I tried to sleep through my nights, but she had free reins to sleep when I was busy going to school. I had multiple days where I had gone 48 hours without sleep. She made me send explicit pictures(where I never showed my face. Luckily-), and pushed me to engage in sexting. Again. Before I was 16.

It fucked me up. Her being trans had nothing to do with her behaviour. It only made me hide my pain because of my lack of trust in telling others about it, as I feared I wouldn't be believed.

Everyone can be abusive and shitty. Once identity is never an excuse to once behaviour.

We can get better. We can learn. My love for trans women, and transfems, were never questioned by myself, as I was able to separate one person's actions from her identity.

For sure. A lot of trans women like to act like we're just perfect little angels who have our sexuality demonized and can do absolutely no wrong, which only opens the door to allow abusers to just run wild and avoid criticism because "Oh well she's trans and you're probably just transphobic".

Trans women are people. And some people are shitty.

Hell, I was abused by a trans woman for almost 5 years and you don't see people calling me transmisogynistic. So why do that to trans guys who are abused?

[eddieisashifter]

do you not believe you can shift?

I know this sounds silly, but hear me out. do you believe in shifting, believe that these success stories that you hear are 100% true, but still hold onto that lingering belief that you can't do it?

because I did.

as an experiment, I asked myself "why don't you think that you can shift?"

I wanted to immediately protest. I wanted to not let myself linger on that belief, thinking it would hold me back. but, I gave myself the permission to just be honest for a moment. the answer that came back to me surprised me.

"I don't think I can shift because I don't believe I have that power in me."

It was a belief I hadn't even realized I was holding. I dug deeper and found that I was rooted in my own religious trauma, growing up believing that I was broken and needed to be fixed by a higher being. this has impacted the way I see my own power, and I haven't even realized it.

once I identified this belief, it was easy to let go of it. I reminded myself that I am powerful, that I have the ability to make all my desires come true, and I already have made them into reality. it was such a freeing experience.

so, I ask you, do you have any lingering beliefs that are holding you back? things you didn't even realize you believed about yourself? perhaps that's why you haven't shifted and you haven't even realized it.

so, ask yourself, "why don't I think I can shift?" and see what happens, the result might surprise you.