#Concepts of strike and dip

[yutamayo]

Solo Leveling first impression (episode 1 & 2) - (NO content spoilers involved!)

So I actually went in with ZERO knowledge of the plot or anything at all. All I knew was the promo poster. Given that, the very beginning threw me off a little with what I was expecting from the genre/vibe, but it brought me back very quickly. I will say it started a little slow for me, by that I mean episode 1 was amazing but it wasn't until episode 2 that I got that "ohhhh shiiiit" feeling, you know the one

I will note that despite the very first few minutes not drawing me in plot wise, the animation is so fucking fire like INSTANT noticeably amazing. Like on God I thought it was MAPPA (it's not, it's A-1 Pictures). My brother and I both literally stated outloud that the animation was beautiful as soon as it started playing. The cinematography is dope as shit, a reason I assumed it was MAPPA was bc they animated the fight scenes' movement & style so interactively and dynamically.

The next thing I'll say is that episode 2 made every negative point I just expressed irrelevant. A fucking trip, well paced and perfect intro to the dark, gritty, and badass insanity that is sure to come.

The OP and ED were dope and I've heard they reference the manga very well. I like the outro song but not super obsessed with the actual outro video, and the intro video I love but not a fan of the intro song. To be fair, I didn't love SPECIALZ in the beginning, and now hearing it gives me visceral chills. Things change.

I love the main character and don't have even a single thing to note about him that I haven't enjoyed. Also a character that's been introduced... Iykyk but I saw her and genuinely wanted to compliment her as a character but I literally sat there next to my brother and mother with my mouth slightly open and jaw clenched bc I knew the moment I tried to say something about her it would sound so fucking lesbian. Like so fucking lesbian. I genuinely couldn't trust myself to speak when I saw her. So.

All in all, I absolutely recommend. It's so amazing I'm sad I have to wait every week for it to come out, but it'll only stay amazing if the animators are given more time.

100000% check out Solo Leveling if you get the chance! (@chiarrara 👀💖)

[revelboo]

How are thriteen and shockwave doing 😭 is he still reading magazines?

It’s purely educational 🔞 mass displaced mech 🌶️

Point of Extinction Pt 19

TFP Shockwave x Reader

• Watching Shockwave lay down the tiny little magazine he’s been pouring over on his berth near you, it’s morbid curiosity that makes you wander over, because he’s been staring at the same two page spread since returning with supplies for you. Including a small mountain of pillows. Aware of him arranging his stockpile of pillows behind you, you lean over the magazine. Not even surprised that it’s another Cosmo. Who keeps smuggling him these damn things? Staring at the illustrations before your attention shifts to the tagline ‘Top Ten Positions for Increasing Odds of Conception.’ Mind blanking as you turn to find him mounding your pillows. How do you even explain to him that’s not happening? That it’s impossible, because your species are way too different?

• “You realize you can’t knock me up, right?” You ask, voice strained and his antenna go back. Knock you up? You think he’s going to strike you? “It won’t work. We’re not the same,” you add, tone almost desperate and you bend to pick up the breeding instruction manual and shake it at him. “I can’t have your alien kids.” Knocking up means breeding? Venting at your strange sayings, he reaches to take the magazine and study the position he’d settled on.

• “That remains to be seen,” he growls as you blanch. “A proper baseline amount of nanites should be established before proceeding, though.” And he gestures at the pile of pillows. “Present yourself.” Inhaling slowly so you don’t scream at him in frustration, you force a smile. He can’t knock you up. There’s no way, so what’s the harm in letting him try? As painfully blunt and awkward as he is, the sex is surprisingly good. Frantic and wild. And a distraction from everything else overwhelming and stressing you out. Mainly him. After how upset he got when you’d asked if he planned to dissect you, you’re pretty sure you’re safe. He seems to genuinely care for you in his weird way.

• “Most guys, they buy flowers or candy. They flirt,” you mutter, stripping out of your layers and his antenna flick, filing away the information. Courting gifts? Because bonding and potentially sparking you are under your control, he’ll need to convince you to accept him. “I get, ‘bend over and let me fuck you for science.’” Venting at your aggravated tone, he’s pleased you still lay down on the pillows, hips up. Leaning to study the tiny illustration, he hooks his cannon under your thigh to adjust you. “You could at least buy me dinner first.”

• You’re nervously rambling as he shifts behind you, settling on his knees as his cannon brushes your hip right before you feel the head of his spike slide against you. Rubbing his length against you in slow drives without entering you and you squirm a hand under yourself to help, because you definitely want to be slick first. And his servos brush you hesitantly. Glancing over your shoulder at him, you grab his hand and move against it. Trying to show him what you need and he’s a quick learner at least, servos petting and dipping inside you until you’re wet then he’s shifting and driving himself deep to make your breath catch.

• Groaning at the feel of you under him, his hips pump and you soften for him, silken heat gripping his spike. Single optic shuttering as his cannon presses against your side and his hand grips your hip, he moves against you. Listening to the sounds you make under him, because this feels real when so much is confusing or muddled. This isn’t a phantom memory he can’t truly claim as his. This is real, your body under his. Can touch you, scent you, feel your wet heat. Growling when you begin to squirm under him, tightening on his spike as your breath catches, his hips snap against you, moving faster. Learning your little tells. Shifting his angle slightly until you cry out and fist him until he’s rutting urgently against you, snarling as he overloads. Driving deep, shallowly thrusting, he fills you and shudders. “Thirteen may pick the next position,” he growls, bracing a hand beside you and the pillows have shifted under you both, hips no longer at an optimal angle. Chassis brushing your back, he vents in frustration, wanting to press his head against your neck, but you groan that he’s too heavy, reaching back to swat at him. Reluctantly easing his weight back, he hooks his cannon under you, adjusting your hips back where he needs them. Has no intention in pulling out yet and wants his ‘jizz’ as you called it to stay where he put it.

• Relaxing slowly under him with your ass up and his spike stretching you, because he’s apparently not moving any time soon, you wonder again what you are to him. Still an experiment? Just a different kind than the horror show he’s got going on in his lab? And what happens when he figure out he can’t get you with his alien babies? Will he decide you’re not useful and put you back into the other room? Or will he try to fix you so he can knock you up? “Hey, promise me you’re not going to experiment on me. Please? That you’re not going to dissect me or try to bioengineer me into something new,” you whisper and he shifts against you. Can feel your heart racing, breath quickening as the fear comes out of nowhere, your fingers digging into the pillows under you. Remembering what he’d done to those poor animals. His failed experiments. Have no idea what his word’s even worth, but you need to hear it anyway. And he slips free of you, sliding an arm under you. Stretching out beside you and cupping your head in a big hand as he awkwardly curls forward. His strange head brushing yours. ‘Thirteen, you’re,’ he corrects with a growl. ‘Mine. You won’t be harmed.’ And you need to believe that so bad.

Previous

Next

[tojigasm]

imagine bucky introducing reader to the thunderbolts and she’s just blushing and smiling around yelena like “she’s so cool and pretty🤩” and he’s like “really😐”

Polyamory isn't a new concept to Bucky or yourself –having discussed it among each other here and there.

You're interested and intrigued by it – always wanting to push the limits of conformity and find what works for you through trial and error.

Bucky, he's not so receptive.

The culture difference is striking —not to mention, the two of you already receive shit for the age gap you share.

Bucky thinks adding another person into the relationship would just add an entirely new aspect to the dynamic you share and how the public views your relationship.

You know he means well, and he knows you love him deeply so you both settle on 'we'll decide later maybe.'

Everything remained rather mundane at that conclusion –which helped to keep Bucky's anxiety levels at a maintained comfortability.

That is, until you were introduced to Yelena.

There was something about her that just completely enamored you.

Her hair, her makeup, her pouty lips, the way her tactile suit made her appear all the more bigger and stronger than you.

Not to mention the way she introduced herself to you with a charming smile and a thick accent, looking you up and down while asking: "Who's this pretty one?"

Bucky was not amused.

You and Yelena were like two peas in a pod. Instantly bonding over shared interests in creativity, goals, fashion, humor.

The entire night, the two of you were almost inseparable –bantering back and forth, throwing lighthearted jabs at Bucky who took them graciously.

"Careful, Bucky. Might end up taking your girlfriend one of these days, yeah?" Yelena teased.

You both knew she was joking but there was a moment where you and bucky met eyes from your seat beside Yelena on the couch.

She was scrolling through her gallery trying to show you a photo of a cat she'd seen while out on a job.

Bucky was sat at the bar, a small glass of whiskey in his metal hand.

His eyes softened as he met yours and gave you a gentle nod.

His way of saying: "you're okay."

The night continued on until the three of you parted ways, but not before both Yelena and you exchanged numbers to keep in contact.

She'd told you she'd be out on a job and wouldn't be as responsive but to text her about life and to send her any photos of kitties you might see.

The walk back to Bucky's floor was filled with an understanding and peaceful quiet.

The topic wasn't discussed again, but there was an understanding.

Bucky's hand was at the dip of your back as he guided you into the wide floor.

"Know I love you right?" Bucky asked, pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear, "want you to be happy."

You nodded, reaching a hand behind you to scratch at the scruff of his beard.

"I'm only happy with you."

[mcrdvcks]

mutant!reader x bucky is peak but what if… winter soldier!reader x logan 👀👀👀

very interesting concept, anon!! i hope this drabble satisfies you <3

send an ask for my 2,000 followers celebration!

warnings/tags: reader is a winter soldier, mention of vibranium arm, brainwashing

You track him through the piney dark by scent alone—gunmetal, pine sap, and something feral that drags at the old conditioning in your skull. Terminate. The order hisses beneath the static in your head as you ghost between trees, silver arm glinting in moon-slashed flashes.

Then he speaks, rough voice rolling across the clearing long before you’re close enough to strike. “Hydra still windin’ you up like a toy, darlin’?”

You freeze. No one’s ever smelled you coming—much less called you darlin’.

Logan steps from the shadows, cigar ember flaring. His jacket’s half-zipped, chest rising slow, like he’s got all the time in the world. Claws stay sheathed, but the threat hums around him like heat off asphalt.

Your finger twitches on the trigger. “Параметры миссии. Mission parameters—” The words rasp out in Russian before you can stop them.

“Yeah, yeah. ‘Eliminate the Wolverine.’ Heard that tune before.” He tips his head, eyes catching starlight. “But what do you want?”

Want. The concept tilts the ground. Hydra didn’t write that subroutine.

Static spikes; memories stutter—red rooms, cryo coffins, loss counted in centuries. You lurch forward, metal fist swinging. He meets you, adamantium against vibranium, the clang echoing like gunfire. Sparks fizzle.

“Got more where that came from,” he growls, hooking your wrist, but there’s no triumph in his grip—only grim understanding. “I know what it’s like. Cage in your skull, someone else holdin’ the key.” You slam him into a tree; bark explodes. He doesn’t flinch. Just keeps talking, voice a low gravel road you can’t stop following. “Let me break the lock for you.”

Your breathing ragged, heartbeat a runaway drum. The kill code crowds your vision; Logan’s scent cuts through—woodsmoke, rain-soaked earth—alive. Something you haven’t felt in decades.

His palm—warm, human—settles over the seam where flesh meets metal on your shoulder. “You’re more than what they carved outta you.”

A tremor runs the length of the arm. Trigger words fire and misfire. The muzzle of your pistol dips. For the first time you can remember, you choose not to pull it back up.

Night wind sighs through the pines. Logan’s gaze never leaves yours. “That’s it,” he murmurs, thumb brushing bone just above the metal plate. “Stay with me.”

The order in your head goes silent.

You exhale, tasting freedom like fresh snow, and let the gun fall into the moss between you. Logan’s claws retract with a whisper. He catches you when your knees finally give, holding you like something precious—not weapon, not mission.

Just you.

[yanderes-galore]

I'd love to see a romantic concept for Alopex from TMNT 2012 with a gender-neutral reader. Maybe after cutting off Tiger Claws arm, she decides to stick around just because the reader piqued her interest.

YOU'RE TELLING ME SHE APPEARED FOR ONE EPISODE AND DIPPED???

Yandere! Alopex HCs

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective/Possessive behavior, Clingy behavior, Stalking, Violence, Jealousy, Kidnapping, Forced relationship.

Alopex, ever since her life changed, mostly kept to herself.

She didn't enjoy being an assassin... plus, as a Mutant, it's not like she had many friends.

She dedicated most of her life to killing her brother, that is all.

Yet before she got to do such a thing... She was convinced by other Mutants to reconsider.

This was when she met the Turtles... and by extension, you.

After sparing her brother due to Leo's words... Alopex fully planned to leave.

She'll head back to Tokyo... and figure out what to do next.

However... Next thing she knows, she's invited by the Turtles to stay a little longer.

She's confused and tempted to turn down such an offer... yet suddenly you insist.

Maybe you're human... or maybe you're a Mutant like her.

Either way... Alopex finds herself oddly curious of you.

Why do you want an assassin like her to hang around?

She isn't really the friendly type.

Despite this... You and the Turtles seem oddly on board with the idea of inviting her to the hideout.

Her ears flick as she considers such an option... then her gaze glances back to you.

Maybe... She should take advantage of this opportunity.

This is how you end up befriending the fox assassin.

Originally it was simply because she was invited.

Sure, the sewer smells... unpleasant... Yet the company is appreciated.

After that she decides to stick around since it seems like you and the Turtles will still be dealing with Tiger Claw related problems.

She says she'll stick around in case you all need aid.

In reality... The fox is getting quite attached to you.

You seemed interested in her when you both talked after convincing her to give up revenge.

Despite the horrible things she was forced to do... You didn't view her any differently.

You claimed you've seen a lot worse... and Alopex didn't seem to mean what she did beside her brother.

It... was such a naive outlook, yet it gave her some comfort.

Perhaps she does deserve companionship...

You seem so willing to give her a chance.

I feel Alopex is a yandere hard to leave.

She knows how to hide her emotions, yet her physical abilities can make her quite the foe.

Alopex is known for her speed and stealth.

She runs fast, lands quick strikes, and knows to stay in the shadows like any assassin.

So, if you ever felt you needed to escape her for some reason... It would be difficult.

Alopex has proven she's a good tracker and is fast.

You running would not outpace her.

It's best to keep her controlled rather than outright trying to flee.

Alopex overall doesn't seem too intense.

She likes to keep things to herself, especially emotions.

She no doubt hides her obsession with you most of the time, no doubt knowing romantic feelings would be strange between you.

Alopex is not keen on leaving you alone for long.

In exchange for being so kind to her and helping her see past revenge... She vows to watch over you until Tiger Claw is no longer a threat to you.

After all, she kind of feels responsible for her brother causing problems.

I can see Alopex taking this 'vow of protection' to the extreme.

When you go on missions or just live your normal life... Alopex watches from the shadows.

She doesn't see this as wrong because she's done... worse things go track targets.

This, however, is just looking after you.

Alopex comes off as overprotective towards you at first.

It's out of gratitude for giving her a chance.

Then I can see her checking in with you more often meeting you at the lair to speak.

As OOC as this sounds... I like to think Alopex likes physical affection with you.

At first she doesn't since distancing herself seems safer.

Yet later, even just a hug or laying against you is comforting.

She'll accept friendly hugs... but part of her can't help but think of it in other contexts.

Alopex, as though indebted to you, doesn't mind attacking others for you.

She knows the remaining forces with Tiger Claw/Shredder will be hunting you down.

It's only right for her to lend you her aid....

Although the idea of attacking others out of jealousy sparks in her mind... She keeps it under control.

She bottles her romantic feeling in fear of it damaging the bond you two have.

She hasn't had a companion like you... almost ever.

Despite it all, I of course see her pent up romantic feelings causing issues later.

She may not kidnap at first, viewing it as low...

Although she finds herself growling when others get too close to you.

It shouldn't be her business... Yet she's defensive about her companion.

She really does try to keep a muzzle on such behaviors... although others will notice eventually.

You accidentally teach Alopex to be affectionate.

You hugged her one time, petting her fur.

While she nearly bit you the first time... She ends up craving you rubbing her ears and face.

You make her feel comfortable... wanted...

She hasn't felt such a way since realizing she's a monster.

You make her feel like she can be loved.

She tries not to confess to you, always acting stoic as she helps hunt down potential threats.

Yet... what if she can't anymore?

In theory, she could go forever hiding her emotions....

But what if she nearly lost you?

What if she felt she had to risk it all to have you?

I can see Alopex feeling forced to take you with her, despite her views on kidnapping, if she has to leave.

She wishes to go back to Tokyo... but she can't part from you.

Or, maybe someone else has your heart... and she can't take it anymore?

A number of things could probably make her snap... it doesn't matter too much for this...

What does matter is how dangerous she becomes.

Alopex would be fast when she snaps to take you.

She'd hit you hard, knocking you out before you register what's wrong.

By the time you wake up, she'll have you miles away from the lair...

Maybe even smuggled somewhere back to Tokyo.

When you try to confront her, she shrugs with her ears down.

It's obviously too dangerous in New York for you.

Plus, if she's dealt with Tiger Claw, there's no need for her to be there anymore.

But... You're different to her.

You may not accept it... but she's in love with you.

You've taught her she's no monster... she just needs love.

With you, she gets that love.

She apologizes for making everything so sudden... but she had to work fast.

If she was too slow, you or someone else would stop her.

But now... Now no one can take you from her unless they want her to gouge them.

Now that she's found a companion who can show her a better life... She isn't taking any chances.

She'll find a home for the both of you, one where it can just be the two of you.

She'll cuddle you, kiss you, and finally experience proper love with you...

Now... she'll have a better life with you... with no one to interrupt... she may have done horrible things before... but this time...

It's for a purpose she actually believes in.

[neuroncryptid]

With the recent reveal of several Phoenix Lords (RIP Karandras) I've been kept up at night, stuck on just understanding what it means to don their armor and what it says about the Eldar. As evidence by the Harlequins, an army of clowns is many things but subtle is not one of them, a lot of Eldar identity is defined by theatre. Its all so. . . enticing.

The Craftworlds, the traditional "vanilla" flavored space elves, live lives in the neat constraints of the paths. In order to stave off the ever hungry gaze of Slaanesh, the Aeldari dedicate themselves a particular craft or occupation. This is shown on the tabletop most clearly through the Aspect Warriors: Striking Scorpions, Warp Spiders, Howling Banshees, Dire Avengers, and more. They are masters of a particular art of war, individuals who dedicate themselves to replicating an aspect of Khaine, the god of murder. But do not be mistaken. The paths are not just a warrior thing. The poet, the musician, the painter, the sculptor, all of these things are represented by a path. They each are incredibly specific.

An individual Eldar may spend a century, maybe even thousands of years, on a singular path. But they might also just simply dip their toes into one only to hop to another after a short time. The goal of the paths is not to lose oneself to one or even master a particular thing. The act of a repeated task is enough. That, the self control, is the purpose of the paths.

Most captivating to me is the getting lost though. We are told this is a tragedy but being lost to the paths is nonetheless shown in both lore and tabletop to produce the best at a task or role. This of course makes sense. Should you spend a thousand years on one thing, have it become your person and you will become the best at that thing. But I can't help being stuck on what's lost.

The 1995 animated film Ghost in the Shell depicts a world of cyborgs and cybernetics. Every body contains some artificial product. The physical self is produced piecemeal on an assembly line. Some, like Major Motoko Kusanagi, have their entire bodies replaced. Only the brain remains, but even that is enhanced, probed, has metal shoved into it.

Of course these artificial bodies are designed with aesthetic in mind, but the individual is housed in an impressive array of augmentation and precise tuning. This leads to bodies being specialized for the tasks they need to fulfill. The Major is made for police work, her entire being curated to the application of force on behalf the state.

Not even the sparks of electricity in your brain is safe from this sense of artificiality. The thoughts that race through your skull can be manipulated, reprogrammed, hijacked. If this is what it means to exist in this imagined future, then what does it even mean to be a person.

This brings me back to the concept of the Phoenix Lords and the Aeldari. The Lords are in a way, just sentient suits of armor. But when they are worn they do not just speak to the individual. The individual becomes the person in the armor. To wear these plates is to cease to exist. You die so an individual "great hero" may walk again.

This is seen too, though in a less destructive to the individual form, in the Exarchs. These are the "sergeants" of the aspect warriors on the tabletop. They are those who lose themselves to the paths, those who become so dedicated to a form of murder that the act becomes more themselves than whoever took the first step into the shrine. Like the Phoenix Lords, Exarchs are kind of a sentient armor but unlike them, a person donning it is not completely lost. They are subsumed into the gestalt of past wearers. They become amalgamation, reshaped into a more honed individual.

But this doesn't just end there. Even the non-war focused Eldar see a form of this loss of self. When a conflict requires the conscription of the civilian population, the people take on a "mask" that separates the mind from the excess of war. The individual is hijacked to better suit the role. Of course, once any eldar leaves an aspect or the battlefield they are returned to their former self.

The Aeldari culture sees this as normal. It is made from the ground up with systems which facilitate the donning and discarding of a self depending on the role they find themselves in. There is of course tragedy in this from their perspective, but its only in the complete loss of self. The narratives of 40k place the war mask and the exarchs as separate things, diametrically opposed but they're not really are they? In a way the craftworlds are an assembly line producing bodies who's particular inhabitant is repurposed, reshaped for whatever path they find themselves on.

This. . . implied lack of actual self is so interesting by sharing space in the same civilization which has each of its citizens wear a spirit stone, a device which may save the soul from the jaws of She Who Thirsts by containing it in a gem. Clearly there is something, someone who is contained within them; the Wraith constructs show this. But who are these stones saving? Who is that self, the individual being kept?

[ninjagobythenumbers]

Season 18 Timeline Update

Nothing too exciting this season because, according to Ras, who would never lie about anything, there's only been a few weeks between season 17 and 18. I would have put a month between ToS and Chaos anyway, just based on the vibes, but it's nice of Ras to give confirmation. Everytime a character references an actual length of time, a spreadsheet gains its wings. It's also nice of the writers to withhold from another year long time-skip. Nice to Kai specifically, as his 30th birthday grows ever closer. Here's the full chart.

In personal news, I did find a good way to make the age chart legible.

It's a simple trick I like to call, "letting old man Zane's data go out of range." I toyed with having the y-axis start at 10, because the kids aren't really doing anything until they hit that age, but I think it's funny to see that they're toddlers in season 1. It's also getting to a point where I get confused between the x and y axis because there's been so many seasons. Oh, I also added Frak. He's here on probation. If he doesn't have a consistent presence over the next few seasons, I'll strike him. The rest of the Ninja have tenure, so they can dip as much as they want. If you're wondering why PIXAL or Riyu aren't included, they are on other charts, but I just have no conception of their ages, so they remain absent from this one. Here's the full data and a chart that lets Zane hang around.

To see a clearer version of this data, along with my other charts you can go to this link. I'll be posting the bechdel and plotline updates soon. Let me know if you have any suggestions!

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Halloween Movie Marathon.

fictober masterlist || ask me anything <3

authors note - this one gives me all the feels, ngl, what i would do to have a cuddle on the sofa with harry.

word count - 3.3k

in which, it's your first halloween where your children finally understand the concept of what it is, after having taken them out trick or treating, the four of you all cuddle up on the sofa, hot coco in one hand whilst the other dips in and out of there sweet bucket, a movie marathon where the films are child friendly halloween films which both you and your husband can't wait to show your children, creating not only a family tradition but memories to last a lifetime.

trope: husband!harry

On a crisp and moonlit Halloween night, you and your husband Harry excitedly prepared for a tradition you'd been waiting for since your children were born: taking Malachai, your four-year-old, and Winnie, your freshly turned two-year-old daughter, out for their first real trick-or-treating experience.

The excitement was palpable in your household as you helped your little ones into their carefully selected costumes.

Malachai's face lit up with joy as he twirled around in his Batman suit, a reflection of his unyielding enthusiasm for all things superhero. His deep blue cape fluttered dramatically behind him as he posed with a playful grin, ready to conquer the night.

Winnie, on the other hand, had been dressed as Wednesday Addams, a character she seemed to have an innate connection with, despite her tender age.

She didn’t really smile a lot, only when she was near her father, the two of them had an exceptionally close bond.

The tiny, sombre costume suited her perfectly, with a jet-black dress, pale makeup, and her dark hair held in two braided pigtails. She looked both adorable and eerie, a striking contrast that only added to her charm.

As you stepped out into the cool, autumn evening, the streets were alive with the flickering glow of jack-o'-lanterns and the sounds of excited children and their parents.

Your little family joined the Halloween revelry, with Malachai leading the way, exuberantly shouting, "Trick or treat!" at each house you visited.

He expertly wielded his plastic Batmobile bucket, a constant companion throughout the evening, eagerly awaiting candy from each doorstep.

Winnie, being at the tender age of two, was just starting to grasp the concept of Halloween. She clung to your hand, her big green eyes (much like her fathers) filled with curiosity and a hint of wariness, occasionally practising her very own version of "trick or treat" in the sweetest toddler lisp. Her tiny fingers couldn't quite manage the task of holding a candy bag, so you and Harry took turns collecting her treats.

The decorations adorning the houses in your neighbourhood were nothing short of breathtaking. Cobwebs, pumpkins, and eerie silhouettes of witches and ghosts adorned every porch. Your little ones were enthralled by the captivating displays, each one sparking their imaginations as you ventured from one house to the next.

As the night wore on, a gentle chill settled in, prompting you to pause at a neighbor's fire pit where families gathered, toasting marshmallows and sharing spooky stories.

Malachai and Winnie marvelled at the dancing flames, their faces illuminated with the warm glow of the fire. It was in moments like these that you cherished the closeness of your family.

After several hours of trick-or-treating, the excitement began to give way to sleepy yawns and drooping eyelids. Malachai's candy bucket had grown heavy with the spoils of the night, while Winnie's adorable little face was smeared with chocolate from her first-ever Halloween treat. You decided it was time to head back home.

Walking hand in hand, you strolled back through the now quiet streets, your hearts full of love for your little superheroes and the charmingly spooky Wednesday Addams. With Malachai's cape fluttering in the breeze and Winnie's pigtails swaying, it was a Halloween night that you would cherish for years to come,

As you step through the front door, a warmth envelops you, not just from the inviting atmosphere of your home but from the joy and contentment of your Halloween adventure with Malachai and Winnie.

Harry, with a gentle smile, looks at you and says, "M’gonna get t’kids changed into their cosy pyjamas, and y’can work y’magic on the hot cocoa. They're going t’love it."

He leans down to pick up Winnie, who snuggles into his neck with her tiny Wednesday Addams costume. She clings to his shirt, and her tired eyes still hold a glimmer of excitement from the night's adventure. Malachai, gripping his plastic Batmobile bucket, eagerly extends his hand to Harry, who takes it with a reassuring squeeze.

"Okay, y’two," Harry says as he starts to make his way up the stairs with the kids in tow. "S’time t’get into y’warm PJs and then we'll come down f’a treat with Mommy."

Winnie, in her sleepy state, mumbles something unintelligible but content into Harry's neck, and Malachai excitedly chatters about his favorite houses and the candies he collected. You can hear their footsteps gradually ascending the stairs as they disappear from view, leaving you alone in the cozy living room, already picturing the smiles on their faces when they taste the hot cocoa.

He makes his way to Winnie's bedroom with his precious Wednesday Addams in tow. The room is bathed in a soft, comforting glow from the nightlight, casting gentle shadows that dance on the walls.

He eases her out of her costume, chuckling softly as she fumbles with the little buttons and zippers.

"Y’doing great, m’sunshine," he encourages her, his deep voice filled with warmth.

Winnie's little diaper-clad bottom wiggles as she chooses her own pyjamas from her drawer. Her tiny hands reach for the set with pumpkins, as if she instinctively knows that it's Halloween. She tugs the pyjamas out and turns to her father, holding them up with a proud grin.

Harry can't help but smile at her choice.

"Pumpkins, huh? S’perfect f’tonight, m’little pumpkin," he says, bending down to scoop her up in his arms. Her small frame is light and warm against him, and he revels in the sweet scent of her baby shampoo and the feeling of her little arms wrapping around his neck.

With gentle precision, he helps her slide into her pumpkin pajamas, making sure every button is secure.

"There you go, all set," he whispers, brushing a soft kiss on her forehead. Winnie nestles into her father's arms, feeling safe and cosy in her Halloween-themed sleepwear.

With Winnie all set in her cosy pumpkin pyjamas, Harry turns his attention to his energetic four-year-old superhero, Malachai.

"Alright’, buddy," he grins, sweeping Malachai up in his arms. "S’go t’y’room."

Malachai's face lights up with excitement as he's carried off, his tiny Batmobile bucket still clutched in his hand. His little heart races with the anticipation of choosing his pajamas. Harry gently lowers him onto his lap, their faces almost level, and begins to help him out of the Batman costume.

As he peels back the cape and unzips the suit, Malachai can't help but giggle.

"Daddy, I got so many candies!" he exclaims, his eyes wide with wonder.

Harry chuckles, ruffling his son's hair. "I saw that, buddy! Y’were an amazing Batman out there."

With the costume finally off, Harry tells Malachai,

"Okay, go ahead and pick out your pyjamas." Malachai doesn't need a second invitation; he eagerly darts off to his dresser, a whirlwind of excitement and enthusiasm.

In a matter of seconds, he's back, holding up a pair of Batman-themed pajamas, complete with a little Bat-Signal on the shirt. Harry can't help but laugh at his son's choice. "Well, I should've guessed you'd pick those, m’little superhero."

Malachai grins from ear to ear as he hands over the pajamas to his dad, ready for the last transformation of the night before they both head downstairs to enjoy the hot cocoa and some Halloween treats.

As Harry is helping Malachai change into his Batman pyjamas, he suddenly hears a commotion coming from the nearby bedroom. Laughter and the sound of fabric rustling are unmistakable signs that Winnie is up to something.

He gently advises Malachai, "Almost done, buddy. Just a moment."

He heads to Winnie's room, where he finds his little Wednesday Addams in the midst of a rather energetic quilt-throwing exercise. Quilt pieces lie strewn about, and her mischievous giggles fill the room.

With an amused smile, Harry asks her, "Win, what are y’doing, sweetie?"

Winnie looks up, her big green eyes holding a glint of mischief, and she simply replies, "Bored."

Harry chuckles at her honesty, realising that she's probably looking for some excitement after the adventure of trick-or-treating.

He kneels down and gently gathers her into his arms. "Well, how about we go downstairs and have some hot cocoa? Would that be more exciting than bothering your lovely bed?"

Winnie nods, her pumpkin pyjamas crinkling with the movement.

Fifteen minutes have passed since you and Harry managed to get the little ones settled into their cozy pajamas and had some quality bonding time. Now, the living room is a hub of activity as the two of you prepare for a movie night to round off Halloween in style.

You've both changed into your comfortable pajamas, creating an atmosphere of warmth and relaxation. Harry wears a simple t-shirt and shorts, while you've slipped into a pair of his boxers and one of his well-worn t-shirts that still carries the scent of his cologne. It's a comforting aroma that wraps around you like a familiar embrace, making you feel even closer to him.

Together, you're setting up the living room for the perfect movie night. The TV is on, casting a soft, inviting glow across the room. A cozy blanket is spread out on the couch, waiting to envelop you both in its warmth as the night progresses.

In the kitchen, you can hear the gentle hum of the microwave as the popcorn starts to pop. The tantalizing scent of buttered popcorn fills the air, promising a delectable treat for the evening's entertainment.

With the popcorn timer set, you and Harry adjust the cushions on the couch, fluffing them up for maximum comfort. The remote control rests on the coffee table, ready to transport you to the world of your chosen Halloween movie.

Harry glances at you and grins.

"M’gonna come with y’t’ get t’hot cocoa, so we don't have t’keep getting up during t’movies," he suggests, knowing that once you're all settled in on the couch, it's best to minimise interruptions.

You nod in agreement and turn toward Malachai and Winnie, who are perched on the couch, their eyes fixed on the TV.

"Alright, kiddos," you say playfully, "we'll be right back. Be good for a minute."

Malachai nods, his little Batman eyes shining with excitement, and Winnie gives you a mischievous grin.

"Behave, you two," you say, smirking at them, knowing that their idea of "being good" might be open to interpretation.

In the cosy kitchen, you and Harry stand side by side, the scent of popcorn filling the air as the microwave hums to life. The sound of kernels popping is rhythmic, a soothing backdrop to the conversation between you two.

As you prepare the popcorn, Harry can't resist leaning in and brushing a playful kiss to your cheek.

"Y’know," he says with a mischievous glint in his eye, "you wearing m’shirt does something t’me."

You chuckle and play along. "Oh, does it now? And what might that be?"

Harry's lips curl into a gentle smile as he takes a step closer.

"Well," he begins, "it makes m’want t’hold y’like this." He wraps his strong arms around your waist, pulling you into a warm embrace.

You feel your heart flutter at his touch and tilt your head toward him, resting it on his shoulder.

"What else?" you ask, curiosity dancing in your eyes.

Harry's warm breath tickles your ear as he continues, "It makes m’want t’kiss y’until we forget all about the movie night."

His words are filled with affection and desire, and you can't help but blush. The microwave dings, signalling that the popcorn is ready, and you both turn your attention to the hot cocoa.

You grab the mugs and pour the steaming chocolatey goodness, while Harry retrieves a can of whipped cream from the fridge. As you finish garnishing the cocoa, you feel his presence close behind you.

He places a soft kiss on your temple and whispers, "And y’laugh, especially in m’shirt, s’m’favorite sound."

You turn to face him, sharing a sweet, lingering kiss as you exchange mugs, ready to head back to the living room with the popcorn and hot cocoa, cherishing this tender moment and the love that surrounds you.

The living room is now perfectly set up for a family movie night. The soft glow of the TV illuminates the room, casting a cozy atmosphere that envelops you all. Winnie's choice for the evening is "Hotel Transylvania," and it's playing on the screen. She's curled up on her father's lap, a warm blanket cocooning her tiny form.

As the movie begins, you can't help but smile at the sight. Winnie's eyes are wide with wonder as she watches the colourful characters on the screen. Harry wraps his arms protectively around her, his gentle voice whispering, "S’this y’favourite movie, sweetheart?"

Winnie nods, her sleepy eyes twinkling with delight, and she snuggles deeper into her father's embrace.

On the other side of the couch, Malachai is cuddled up against you, his little head resting on your shoulder. He clutches his favourite superhero plushie tightly in his hand, occasionally glancing at the screen with rapt attention.

The atmosphere is filled with warmth, love, and the soft sounds of the movie, punctuated by the occasional giggle from Winnie.

The movie progresses, and as the characters in "Hotel Transylvania" embark on their comical adventures, a series of shared giggles and gasps fills the room.

Winnie, with her fascination for the animated world on the screen, occasionally points at the characters, and Harry, ever the doting father, indulges her by asking, "Do y’like Dracula, sweetie?"

Winnie grins widely, her tiny face alight with excitement, and nods, "Dracula funny!"

Meanwhile, Malachai is engrossed in the movie's action, his big brown eyes wide as he follows every twist and turn. He occasionally snuggles closer to you, as if seeking comfort during the slightly spooky scenes.

As the family settles in, you reach for the bowl of popcorn and hand a piece to Malachai, who takes it eagerly and munches away, the crunch of popcorn providing a delightful background sound to the film.

With a warm, contented sigh, you nuzzle your son's hair and steal a quick glance at Harry and Winnie. You can't help but appreciate these quiet, precious moments when it's just the four of you, lost in a world of animated monsters and a shared love that binds you.

Midway through the movie, as the animated characters face a comical conundrum, Malachai can no longer resist the allure of the candies he's collected during the night.

He sneaks a hand into his Batmobile bucket, selects a piece, and with a sly grin, he turns to you, his wide eyes shining. "Mommy, want a candy?"

You can't help but chuckle at his irresistible charm and accept the candy he offers. After taking the treat, you lean in, gently pressing a soft kiss to his button-like nose. He lets out a joyful giggle at the unexpected display of affection, his heart warmed by the simple gesture.

With the candy indulged, you both return your attention to the movie. The lively characters on the screen continue their quirky adventures, and the living room echoes with shared laughter and the occasional gasp at the on-screen antics.

Harry, from his spot across the room, watches with a fond smile. His heart swells with love as he sees the bond between you and Malachai, a mother and son sharing moments of pure joy.

He can't help but chime in, "Hey, don't forget to save some candy for me!"

Malachai grins and offers the candy bucket to his father, who selects a piece with a playful wink.

As "Hotel Transylvania" nears its conclusion, it's evident that the long and exciting day of Halloween adventures has taken its toll on the little ones.

Malachai, his eyelids growing heavier with every passing moment, has shifted from his snug spot at your side to rest his head on his father's lap.

Winnie, nestled under her blanket and clutching her favourite plush toy, is in a half-dreamy state as she gazes at the screen.

The movie's ending is met with a quiet stillness in the room, punctuated only by the gentle, even breaths of your two precious superheroes.

The soft glow of the TV paints a warm, comforting picture. Harry smiles down at Malachai, who is slowly surrendering to sleep, and he gently strokes his son's hair, a loving and protective father's touch.

In the quiet moments of the evening, the soft lamplight casts a warm, gentle glow in the living room. The day's activities have left Winnie tired but still full of curiosity and energy. She's been trying to settle on her fathers lap like she does most nights but now she has a different kind of need.

As you sit comfortably on the couch, Winnie's inquisitive spirit takes over.

She crawls over to your lap, her bright eyes filled with a mix of innocence and desire.

She pauses in front of you, gazing up with a look that seems to convey, "Mommy, can I?"

You smile down at her, understanding her silent request. In response, you lovingly adjust your position, allowing her to crawl onto your lap. Her tiny hands, warm and soft, reach for your shirt, her fingers fumbling to lift it up.

You ask her, "Do you want some mommy milk, sweetie?"

Winnie's face lights up with a happy nod, and she whines softly as her efforts to lift your shirt all the way are met with a bit of difficulty. Her determination to satisfy her hunger is apparent, and her love for "mummy milk" is a testament to the special bond between a mother and her child.

With a gentle, motherly touch, you guide her to your breast, and she latches on with eager determination. As she begins to feed, you brush her soft hair away from her face and stroke her cheek. The connection between you two deepens, and in this intimate moment, you cherish the unique and profound love you share.

As your youngest settles into her peaceful breastfeeding session, the living room is not devoid of activity.

On the sofa, you can see Harry and your eldest still seated together.

Malachai's eyes are heavy, his little body leaning comfortably against his father. The remnants of their family movie night are visible in the traces of popcorn that litter the coffee table.

Malachai glances up at his father, his sleepy gaze meeting Harry's warm, tender eyes.

With a quiet understanding, he says, "Daddy, I love our family."

Harry's heart swells with love, and he replies, "I love our family too, buddy. And y’know what? We're all so lucky t’have Mommy, aren't we?"

Malachai smiles, his sleepy face lit up with affection. "Yeah, we're the luckiest. And Winnie's lucky too."

Harry chuckles softly. "Y’absolutely right, m’little superhero."

The night has fallen, and the house is immersed in a comforting stillness. You and Harry have just put both Malachai and Winnie to bed, their innocent faces wrapped in the embrace of slumber.

The room is now your own, and the two of you lay side by side in the cosy intimacy of your double bed.

Harry, the moonlight gently caressing his features, turns to you with a thoughtful look.

"Do y’ever think about trying f’another baby?" he asks, his voice laced with curiosity.

Harry's question hangs in the air, you go quiet, and a small, enigmatic smile plays on your lips. Harry notices your silence and turns his head to look at you, his eyes searching for your thoughts.

“S’that smile for?" he asks with a curious, quizzical expression.

You take a deep breath, your heart beating a little faster, and with a soft chuckle, you say, "I don't think there's much 'trying' to do."

His brow furrowed in confusion for a moment, but then your hand gently guided his, placing it on your stomach. As he feels the gentle, subtle curve of your belly under his touch, realisation dawns in his eyes, and his gaze locks onto yours.

A beautiful mix of emotions washes over him, and with a joyful and surprised grin, he whispers, "Are y’saying...?"

You nod, your eyes shining with love and happiness. "Yes, H, we're going to have another baby."

[wisesoultarot]

Full Moon in Leo Messages for you: What do you need to hear this full moon?

Instagram | Tip Jar | Book a Reading with me now!!

🌕IMAGE 1:

Are you caught up in the relentless whirlwind of work, constantly pushing forward without taking a moment to pause and reflect on your achievements? In the hustle and bustle of daily responsibilities, do you often find it challenging to lift your own spirits and recognize the hard work you've put in? If you struggle to carve out time for yourself, feeling guilty for taking a break or unwinding, this full moon serves as a gentle reminder to slow down and honor your own journey. It encourages you to take a step back, breathe deeply, and celebrate the milestones you've reached, no matter how small they may seem. This celestial event is an opportunity to reconnect with yourself, acknowledge your efforts, and give yourself the credit you deserve. Embrace this moment to recharge, reflect, and rejuvenate, allowing the light of the full moon to illuminate your path and inspire you to continue moving forward with renewed energy and purpose.

🌕IMAGE 2:

Do you find yourself brimming with incredible ideas, ambitious goals, or visionary concepts, yet often hold back due to worries about how others might react? If you frequently find yourself postponing the pursuit of your dreams because you're unsure of the outcome or fearful of judgment, this full moon presents a unique opportunity for you to step into your power and embrace your true potential.

The universe is not just a passive observer; it is actively encouraging you to reveal your vision to the world. This celestial event is a reminder that your creativity is not only valid but also necessary. The energy of the full moon is a catalyst for inspiration, admiration, and motivation, urging you to break free from the shackles of self-doubt and hesitation.

Now is the time to share your unique ideas and creative expressions with others. Whether it's through art, writing, entrepreneurship, or any other form of self-expression, the world is ready to receive what you have to offer. As you take this bold step, you may be pleasantly surprised by the enthusiastic responses from those around you. People are often more receptive and supportive than we anticipate, and your willingness to share your vision can ignite a spark in others, creating a ripple effect of inspiration.

So, let go of your fears and embrace this moment. Trust in your abilities and the value of your contributions. The universe is cheering you on, and by stepping into the light, you not only honor your own journey but also inspire others to pursue their dreams. This full moon is your invitation to shine brightly and watch as the world responds with open arms and excitement!

🌕IMAGE 3:

Do you truly value yourself? This question is fundamental to understanding your self-worth and how you navigate the complexities of life. When moments of boredom, fatigue, sadness, or a lack of motivation strike—those inevitable dips in our emotional landscape—how do you respond? Do you take a moment to uplift your spirit, to remind yourself of your strengths and the beauty within you? Or do you allow your inner critic to take the reins, drowning out your self-esteem with waves of negativity and self-doubt?

Consider how you treat yourself during these challenging times. Are you taking the time to care for your appearance and health, recognizing that these aspects are vital to your overall well-being? Or do you find yourself neglecting them, perhaps as a reflection of how you feel about yourself? This full moon serves as a powerful reminder and an invitation to shift your self-perception. It encourages you to embrace self-appreciation, to acknowledge your worth, and to actively seek out ways to motivate yourself to pursue your passions and interests.

Celebrate your uniqueness—there is no one else quite like you in this world. Take the time to indulge in delightful meals that nourish your body and soul, treat yourself to a relaxing spa day where you can unwind and rejuvenate, or enjoy a soothing massage that helps release tension and promotes relaxation. These acts of self-care are not just luxuries; they are essential practices that nurture your well-being and reinforce the idea that you are deserving of love and care.

Prioritize self-care in your daily routine. It’s not merely about pampering yourself; it’s about recognizing that you are worthy of attention and kindness. By nurturing your well-being, you create a solid foundation from which to face life’s challenges with resilience and grace. Embrace this opportunity to reflect on your self-worth, to cultivate a deeper appreciation for who you are, and to take actionable steps toward a more fulfilling and joyful existence. Remember, you are your own greatest advocate—treat yourself with the love and respect you deserve.

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #48] Bickering

warnings: an everything shower!! self control? what self control? mutual masturbation, a lil mean dirty talk from jk, sex toy (f), lots of flirting, lots of banter, important info for upcoming chapters

notes: last one for today, as im gonna update the wedding chapters in a cluster! <3

wc: 10.6K

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

A creature of habit, is Jeon Jeongguk . He's proven it time and time again – the gym sessions that look identical to sets done the day before, how he always goes for the French toast at his favourite café and, more recently, the way he can't keep his bloody hands off you as soon as you're naked.

It doesn't come as a surprise, how he hooks onto your waist and drags you beneath the steaming shower with him, nor how his deft palms stroke up and down your skin as he greets you with a kiss. Mumbles into your lips how much he can't stand showers without you. Pouts when you pull away and grab your shampoo – but hums in complete satisfaction when you hand it over to him.

"Please," you simper quietly, wet lashes sultry, though the request is as innocent as could be.

It's a ploy, you see. A little scheme cooked up in that sparkly little brain of yours that Jeongguk loves so much. A guaranteed free head massage- because he's a perfectionist and constantly needs to be doing something with his hands.

If he gets them lathered up with shampoo, and adds the combination of it being your hair he's washing, and his desire to be touching you, it'll equal an excellent outcome for both parties.

It will also get his hands off your body, which you don't particularly want, but being naked with him is a dangerous game. He's not hard (yet), and so this is prime time.

He does as is requested of him, and sure enough, he gets far too into it. Ends up rinsing and repeating. Is taught about shampoo brushing, and the concept of an everything shower . Decides that you should have one. That you deserve one.

"They take an absolute age," you tell him with a serene smile, toying with his hands, chin pressed to his chest. Just out of the direct line of the shower, Jeongguk looks down at you, wet hair sticking to the sides of his face, damp skin glistening in the overhead lights. The light he basks in reminds you of your favourite steps of an everything shower – candlelight .

You tell him of your ritual - how you turn all the lights off and keep your phone out of the room with only candles as a light source - and his expression doesn't change. Doesn't contort in confusion, nor question your sanity, no. He's just as enamoured as he always was.

"Well, then, what are you waiting for, B?" He simpers, pressing a kiss to your lips. Oh, how he treasures you, and the fact that he gets to do that now. Does it all the time. Does it again. And again, and again, and a- focus . "You got a lighter?"

You always tend to have them in your bags from nights out – never know when you might need one, or when you might make a new friend in the smoking area of Dionysus – but your ritual doesn't call for such sophistication.

"Use matches for this," you tell him of your personal tradition.

"Well, then have you got matches?" he smiles, not caring in the slightest that you're particular about it. Likes it, in fact. Matches him and his strict routines. When you nod, he lets you go gently. Whispers, "Go light them, baby."

Despite the sheer number of times Jeongguk has been in your bathroom, he's never noticed how many candles you have in the room. They're on the windowsill, the shelves, the countertop. There's even one by the sink – a long candle wedged into an old wine bottle.

A towel loosely drapes around your body as you strike up matches, lighting the candles one by one. Jeongguk is surprised the steam in the room isn't causing an issue, but you do also crack the window open to funnel some of it away.

"Okay," you whisper, turning to face him. "Close your eyes."

He does as he's told, with no hesitation.

Dipping out of the room quickly, you flick the lights off, then re-enter and drop the towel. Get back to the shower with him. Hold his hands, and say, "Open."

There's something quite spectacular about Jeongguk's eyes and the galaxies he holds within them. You're not sure what NASA are currently up to, but you know for a fact they'd be dumbfounded if they were to ever see Jeongguk.

The warmth of the candlelight sparkles in his dark irises, as if stars are fighting amongst themselves for you to make wishes upon them – and yet it's when he looks at you that they really begin to gleam. Magnificent in their magic, Jeongguk's eyes are impossible to look away from.

"You do this like... a lot?" he questions, a little smile on his pretty lips, not even looking at the room. Only at you.

You want to kiss him; simply, and completely.

Instead, you nod. Bite your lip. "Like, every week."

"Y'know I've always wondered how you're so..."

"So?"

"So..." he struggles to find the word, but settles with, " Dreamy . Like, the way you carry yourself, B. You're just... You're a literal dream, and I always wonder how."

You know what he's getting at - that your little ritual is somehow responsible for, well, the rest of you.

It's no secret that it's not the most conventional of showers. Danbi swears you'll burn the place down one day. It's impractical and a nuisance, but it is enchanting, and that's all you really need from it.

You've never left a candle-lit shower feeling horrible. Even in the worst of your Seokjin era, they'd remedy your woes and help you feel slightly human.

While you had never believed they helped you to transcend human status, Jeongguk is certain of it.

He thinks there's no way he's made of the same stuff as you. He doesn't know fuck all about classic literature, but he knows enough to know that Emily Brontë got it all wrong (even if he doesn't remember which of the Brontës wrote Wuthering Heights).

He could consider stardust and atoms and what it really takes for a human to form, but none of it matters. He's stardust. He's atoms. He's clusters of cells.

You're ethereal. Intangible. Transcendental. A star, in its truest form.

It's a miracle you haven't blazed right through him - though the way he feels could be argued as a side effect of that very affliction.

Of all your little habits and rituals, this one is your most sacred.

And you're sharing it with him.

You're not sure why.

Cause you trust him, maybe, or potentially because you only ever want him to feel good, and know that this is a failsafe for you.

Or, most likely, it's because your candle-lit showers are yours . They've never been shared.

But with Jeongguk, it's different. You want to give him something of you that really will only ever be his. He's worthy of your ritual.

"Well, let's hope it makes you feel dreamy, too," you grin, arms wrapped around his waist as his palms cup your jaw and bring you closer to him.

He nods, a smile relaxing on his lips. "Already feels like I'm in a dream."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he swears, ghosting his lips against yours. His kiss, when it finally greets you, is slow. Patient. Calm. Missed, when it ends. "How did I get so lucky, hm? How is this my life?"

You could argue that you're the lucky one – and you no doubt will in the near future – but you're enjoying his display of adoration far too much to derail the conversation.

"You are a lucky boy," you tell him – 'cause he is.

Nobody sees the world quite like you; looks at him like you do. What he's found in you is special. Rare.

And he'll do well to remember it.

It's not that you love Jeongguk (even if you totally do and are just playing a game of chicken against yourself), but you've loved others before who were unworthy. Who didn't realise what they had until it was gone. Losing him doesn't bear thinking about, so you're putting worth on yourself. Making an asset of your mind, your body, your company. Making yourself too valuable to lose.

As if you ever need to worry.

"So lucky," he agrees. "What next? What's after shampoo?"

"I'm so glad you asked," you beam, before talking him through your routine.

The ritual took you a while to figure out. Had spent your early twenties as a low-maintenance girlie, quite enjoying the hot mess look, but definitely leaning more towards the mess side of the scale.

With time, you learned how to be high-maintenance for the sake of being low-maintenance, in a roundabout way.

It's still not a perfect routine – but you also still enjoy being on the hot mess scale, so it's no issue. You're more polished these days, even despite the glitter.

You'd lost yourself for a little while.

Are thankful to have found a beacon while searching for yourself. He never insisted on finding you, but helped light the way for your exploration. Now, he reaps the rewards of restoring a disco ball, as your radiance shines upon him.

He might not care for extensive shower routines (as if he doesn't have three shower gels going at all times, and designated towels), but he cares to learn yours. Knows that what you're sharing with him isn't just a little quirky thing you like to do.

This is how you unwind. How you reset yourself; your mind.

To be invited to witness such a thing, to experience it, is no small honour. It's huge. Monumental.

Trust, shared, in a way he doesn't think he's ever experienced before.

The weight of your agreement to not let things get too heated until five dates in is heavy on his shoulders. He doesn't wanna do anything to jeopardise that, but equally knows sex has been how he communicates his desperation for you. Without it, it feels like all these emotions are bubbling up inside of him, but he can do nothing about it. The pressure just builds and builds. 

It's precisely why having this time without the physical intimacy you so often hide behind is essential. It's forcing you to be honest with one another.

Like when Jeongguk lets you shampoo his hair, and finds him mumbling, "I like this. Like this so much."

His eyes are closed, skin warm in the flickering candlelight, and there's a tranquillity to such acceptance of his feelings. Not only is he content with them, happy to sit with these emotions, and make room for them, but he's happy sharing them with you."Shampooing?" You hum, lightly teasing him. "Don't you normally shampoo?"If his eyes were open, he'd be rolling them. 

Instead, he baits you on. "You're supposed to shampoo?"

"Ah, that explains why your hair always looks like shit," you smirk, rinsing his hair through.

"Fuck off, you love my hair."

"I think your hair looks like it belongs on your head," you correct (although he is right).

Jeongguk can't tell if that's a compliment or an insult, so he just laughs. Doesn't care to think too hard. You're right when you say your little ritual relaxes the brain.

While skincare is usually the step that follows your everything showers, part of you forgets tonight. 

It's the same part of you that just can't stop staring at Jeongguk.

Towel wrapped around his waist, there's an arrogance to Jeongguk in moments like these; the effect he has on you, and how he knows just the right way to tweak his brow and say, "You're staring, Byeol."

You think anyone in your position would be. A wet, naked, Jeon Jeongguk all yours for the taking. Shameless in the way his head tilts, smirk lingering on his pink lips, he doesn't care to hide himself from you. Allows the muscles of his chest to do the talking for him: hard, rigid, and oh-so eager for your touch.

It's not the only part of him that shares those... sentiments .

Hidden by his towel, there's a bulge that you know is obscuring something far larger than it appears right now.

A small trail of hair peaks from the top of his towel, an inch or so beneath his belly button, and it makes you sigh, all hearty and wanton, desperate to see where it leads.

"So?" You reply with just as much arrogance, because you're not gonna let him win, even if you're going crazy looking at him like this. "Should I stop?"

He pouts. Shrugs. Sinks his thumb beneath the waistline of his towel. "Should I stop?"

There's no subtlety to the way you're looking at him right now. None whatsoever.

It's how he knows it's a lie when you say, "I don't care what you do."

If you didn't care, you wouldn't swallow back your desire in the way that you do.

If you didn't care, your lips wouldn't part, then meet once more as you bite down on your bottom lip.

If you didn't care, you wouldn't almost fucking whine when his towel is finally relinquished.

It hits the floor with a shallow thud; an announcement of his nakedness. It's almost like he wants you to stare. Wants you obsessed.

There's a mindlessness in the way his hand drops – not to cover himself, no, but to tug on himself. Stroke the firm length of his cock. Roll his hand down his shaft. Just twice. Three times, maybe. You sort of can't comprehend it.

But then you realise he's winning – and you can't be having that.

"Cute," you smirk. Look at him with eyes that are just begging for a challenge as you drop your towel, too.

And oh, he is just so cute. Looks at you like you're a Grecian statue; as if he's witnessing a Goddess making herself known to mere mortals for the very first time. It's no secret that he loves your body. Has buried himself inside it enough times for you to be certain he'd die for it.

"Cat got your tongue?" you tease when his reaction is written all over his face, but not on the tip of his aforementioned tongue.

He smirks now, too. Shakes his head, but not in denial – in adoration. "Wish it did."

His innuendo sparks a little something inside you – and given the fact Jeongguk can light you up like the fourth of July with the most innocent of remarks, it's no surprise that you consider just saying 'fuck it.'

Would it really be so bad?

Snapping yourself out of it, you nod towards your chair. Tell him to sit. He does.

Facing your bed, his legs are spread, cock hard. He knows he's in no position to tease, 'cause his need for you is obvious.

Perching up on your bed, you sit by the pillows. Are as far from him as you possibly can be. It's the only safe way to do what you're about to – and as Jeongguk watches you spread your legs and display yourself for him, he knows that he needs the distance. It's bad enough having to look at your pretty cunt without being to touch it, but if he could smell your arousal? And couldn't lick it up? Oh, well, he'd simply die .

"You're playing with fire," he tells you as your hand dips between your legs for his viewing pleasure.

With a small sigh, letting the touch travel through you, you laugh. Simper, "No, Gguk. I'm playing with myself."

"Fuck," he groans, watching with unadulterated interruption as you refamiliarize yourself with your own body. "Tits."

The command is brief, but enough for you to know to use your spare hand on your chest. Slow circular motions are used for both, your head dipping back, the beating of your heart getting heavier and heavier. "Feels so good."

"As good as me?" He husks. You rejoin his gaze. Are pleased to see him slowly stroking up and down his shaft. Is matching his timing to yours.

"Better," you lie, desperate to have him prove you wrong – but he won't. He's a man of his word, so even if you bait him out, he won't bite. Not really. Might have a little nibble, but you'll never sink a hook into him.

"Liar," he smirks, then deepens his gaze. Adjusts his posture as he touches himself. Gently toys with his balls, letting you have the full visual pleasure of his throbbing cock. "You just want me to touch you, don't you?"

You don't deny it.

"Look at you," he smirks, unadulterated sin written all over his angelic features.

"You already are," you tease right back, because you both know you absolutely should not be doing this.

"Wanna know what I see?" He asks.

The way he tilts his head back, almost looking down at you, gets you excited. Sends a shiver down your spine all the way to your toes. He looks like he's about to be an asshole - and it's all you want.

"Depends," you bait him on. "Are you gonna be nice?"

"Do you me to be?" He bites back a laugh. Knows exactly what kind of mood you're in. Are far less heavenly than you were earlier. In fact, you're hellish in the way you want him to misbehave.

You raise a brow. Smirk. "Not particularly."

God, if there's one thing Jeongguk loves, it's a challenge; and when it's you, naked and practically begging for him, he'll play to win. Will go all in. Toss his car keys on top of the poker chips. Will call your bluff. Aim for a Royal flush.

There is a small part of him that considers packing it in. Saying something about how you shouldn't be doing this. Behaving himself.

But it's a very small part.

Naturally, his brain ignores it.

Instead, he takes on a prowess. Looks at you in such a way you almost regret giving him permission to be mean - but all that dissolves the second his pretty mouth starts saying filthy things.

"I see a needy little slut that wants me to fuck her," he grits, palming himself with far more determination now that he's vocalising what he wants to do to you, even if he is acting like you're the only one who wants it. Jeongguk is paper-thin. Hold him up to light, and the word desperate would shine through. "Correct?"

"Incorrect."

"No? So you don't want me to touch you?"

"No."

"Don't want my fingers inside you?"

"No."

"Cute," he gives you a light chuckle. Nods towards where you're playing with yourself. "Baby look at how small your hands are. You really think you can make yourself feel as good as I do?"

"Better," you assert– as if you could even compare. The second he touched you, thanks to a God damn origami bird, you knew you'd never be able to come undone from the touch of another.

"Oh yeah?" he smirks. "They fill you as well? Get your pussy squirting like mine do?"

"Anything you can do, I can do be-"

"No you can't," he interrupts. "No one fucks you like I do, B. Not even you." Jeongguk nods towards your pussy. Doesn't look at you. Only looks at the mess between your legs. Husks, "That cunt is mine, 'cause I've fuckin' earned it, B. Now spread it," he grits. "Let me see what's mine."

Manners seem to be lost on him.

"Say please."

He laughs, but bites down on his bottom lip. Nods. Gives you what you want, 'cause he thinks he'll die if you don't give him what he wants. "Please spread that pretty cunt for me, gorgeous."

And who are you to deny such a request?

The way Jeongguk groans at the sight of you is nothing short of addictive. Primal, Jeongguk wants you in the simplest, most human of ways. Doesn't care for the outside world, or expectations, or whatever stupid deal you've agreed upon. If he was put on this earth for one thing and one thing only, it was to stargaze. He'll go blind before he stops. Even then, you'd be all he thinks about. All he wants.

He has to have you.

Needs you so badly it hurts.

He stands. Walks to your dresser. You pretend not to be mesmerised by his cock. When he reaches the dresser, it's his ass you pretend not to be obsessed with. He's just so toned. So pert. The gym is working wonders for him. 

You know what he's doing. What he's getting. He's the only person who knows what hides in that drawer, after all.

Smirking when he pulls open your top drawer, you're somewhat perplexed by the fact he doesn't even ask permission. You don't mind. What's yours is his, or whatever they say.

As he turns, that black silicone rabbit of yours in his hands, you have to suppress a gasp.

"Cute," you hum, as if you're totally unphased by the sight in front of you. "You gonna fuck your ass?"

The way he looks at you is fuckin wicked. Sinful. Unholy.

The way he doesn't utter a single word as he walks to the bed, is even more so. 

There's a darkness to him when he's like this; one that so heavily contrasts the light he so often is. You think that's why you like it so much. He bares all sides of his soul for you; is vulnerable, even in his dominance.

"Gonna fuck your mouth if you don't shut up," he promises, as if that would be a bad thing.

"I can talk for days, babe," you smirk. "Don't threaten me with a good time."

There's a sweetness to his smile as he looks down at you. So sweet, in fact, that you almost don't realise what he's doing as he lines up your toy with your pouty lips. 

He tweaks a brow, and says, "open", then smirks, when you do as you're told. Curses, when your tongue flattens to accept it into your mouth. Groans, when your lips wrap around it as if it's his cock.

We shouldn't be doing this, his brain yells at him. You shouldn't be doing this.

But the way you look right now is hypnotic. He's in a trance. Can't listen to his own damn mind.

There's a hollowness to your cheeks, expert in how your mouth takes cock, even if it's a pathetic replica. It's far smaller and far less impressive than Jeongguk's, but it still gets the job done.

"Not so chatty now, are you, baby?" He teases, gentle in the way he fucks it into your mouth.

You hum something incoherent around the toy, and it makes Jeongguk's cock twitch. Hard and engorged, he wishes it was him inside you; wishes he could feel that vibration, your tongue, the back of your throat. Eyes wide as he deepens the toy, Jeongguk is careful not to outright choke you – but the way you're working your way down the shaft even without his movements confirms only one thing: you wish he was choking you.

He builds the pace. Gets you noisy. Mouth wet. Sloppy . God, he's just obsessed with everything you do, but the way you keep your eyes on his? He thinks he'll die .

It's only when your eyes get a little watery, toy repeatedly hitting the back of your throat, that Jeongguk pulls away. Leaves you panting, chest heaving, chin wet – and still, you look at him in that needy way that always begs him for more.

He drops the toy down beside you, and strokes your cheek. Is tender. Whispers, "Three more dates, baby. Three more."

"Then what?" You reply, just as quietly but infinitely more breathless.

"Then it'll be my cock," he promises. "You want that?"

Nodding, you don't even pretend to have dignity. You give yourself up for him at the drop of a hat. Now is no exception. "Want you so bad."

"I know you do, baby," he nods, then spreads your legs apart even further. Still standing by the side of the bed, Jeongguk has your body right where he wants it – and as he begins to rub the tip of your toy between your folds, he knows he can't be beside you for too long. It's just too tempting.

Slow as he sinks it into your soaked entrance, Jeongguk is almost surprised by how easily it slides in.

"Fuck," he mutters beneath his breath, your body writing from the welcome intrusion. "You're so wet. So wet, and so... Fuck. Take over from me, baby," he encourages as he begins to pump the toy into you. "Fuck yourself for me."

Shaking your head, you whine. "You do it."

"I can't."

"Why," you pout, as if it takes a genius to figure it out.

All of his willpower is being channelled into going against his human desires. You're naked. Wet. Wanting. Are practically begging for him to fuck you.

But if he fucks, he loses the inner battle he's having. Jeongguk hates losing.

Sort of hates winning, now, too.

Cursing beneath his breath, he pulls the toy from your pussy. Doesn't take his eyes off yours. Says nothing as he brings it to his lips and licks up the shaft of your dildo.

He's always been a slave to the way you taste and now is no exception. None whatsoever. 

Which is why you really shouldn't be shocked when Jeongguk takes it in his mouth. Locks his eyes on yours, then lets them close for a moment while he pushes it deeper. Takes it all. Makes you fucking gasp, cunt twinging with pleasure at the sight of it. He bobs his head up and down the shaft of the toy, and cleans it of the mess you made – then withdraws it from his mouth with a pop.

Clenching around nothing, your pussy is desperate for him – but he simply stuffs you fullonce more with the toy. A euphoric buzz takes hold of your body as he fucks it into you, shivers running all over your bare skin. Pulling one of your hands to the base of the toy, Jeongguk finally steps away. Can't keep going. Feels like he's gonna keel over with how badly he needs you.

"Keep fucking yourself," he husks, retreating to the chair. "Keep fucking that tight cunt for me."

"Gguk," you whine – both because you need him, but also because you fear you'll finish far too soon.

"Do it for me, baby," he instructs – then softens his gaze. Looks at you with soft eyes, and a tender smile. "Let me watch you cum, gorgeous. Let me."

For all of his talk of dying, Jeongguk fears it. Knows what heaven looks like. How it sounds. Tastes. Fears he'll be stuck in eternal hell without you.

And so you give him a little death of your own; a promise that where he goes, you'll go too.

Though your eyes are closed, your head is full of him; his touch, his smell, his voice.

"Look at me, B," he implores. "Look at me when you cum."

"C'mere," you nod down towards your spread legs – and while he knows he shouldn't, he can't help but move closer to you. Gets on your bed, between your legs. Sits on his heels. Doesn't dare get too close, 'cause he knows that you both want him inside of you.

Right hand tight around his cock as he jerks himself off over you, the other strokes down your thigh. There's a carefulness to Jeongguk. The desire to perform well, yes, but more so the need to keep you satisfied. 

"You're so pretty, baby," he whispers, and there's something endearing about the way he's literally looking at your pussy as he says it. "You were made for me."

Jeongguk thinks it applies to all aspects of your body – brain included – it's just that he's currently enthralled by your cunt; the way you sound, taste, feel. Can never get enough. Craves you, constantly.

"That's it, Byeol," he encourages as your body begins to writhe. He knows the signs by now. Is jealous of the toy that's inside you. Knows your walls are throbbing, desperate to milk a cock, much like his cock is begging to be milked – and the deprivation is only making you want each other so much more.

"Gguk," you whine, desperate to reach out for him.

As if he knows that you want something – anything – he presses the hand that was on your thigh down on the cute little tummy of yours he loves so much, and helps to deepen the sensations you're experiencing. 

He lets go of his cock. Doesn't care about his own orgasm. Doesn't give a shit. Knocks your hand to the side. Take's dominance over the toy that's currently keeping you full and begins to fuck it into you at a pace you wouldn't have been able to do yourself. 

The pleasure that comes with his movements is only taken to new heights when he flicks the switch at the base, and gets it vibrating inside you.

You always could have turned it on yourself – but he put it inside you. If he wanted it on, he would have turned it on, much like he just has.

Like he says, your pussy is his . You'll let him dictate the pleasure it receives in moments like these.

The pressure of his hand weighing down on your tummy and the speed he's building sends you reeling. Gets you gasping. "Gguk-"

"I know, baby. I know. It's okay. You can cum, okay? Please cum."

There's an urgency to his request; a need to watch it happen. There's no greater gift, he thinks, than watching you orgasm. Knowing that he's the reason why? Oh well, it makes it so much sweeter.

Still rubbing circles on your sensitive bud, there's an overwhelming need within you to come undone but you're holding out. Don't want it to end. Don't want it to stop – but fuck . 

It's too much. Too good . Your shoulders press down deeply into your pillows, body jolting as a familiar sensation waves over your entire being. From the very tips of your toes to the moans that get caught in your throat, you can't stop yourself from cumming for him.

"That's it, pretty," Jeongguk grunts. Doesn't relent. Sends you reeling. Your body shakes, jerking and tensing erratically from the sensation surging over you. "More, baby. Give me more ."

Time ceases to mean anything when Jeongguk is devouring your orgasms – and god, he wishes he really was. Wishes it was his mouth on your clit, not your hand. Is jealous of you. Wants to be where you are.

And so as your trembles begin to stifle, moans laboured as they escape like sobs, Jeongguk lets himself go, too. Holds his cock with a firm grip and rolls back his foreskin, jerking himself to the point of no return.

In a state of hedonistic bliss, you watch on as Jeongguk unloads. Are enamoured with how it looks. Sounds. How his brows grow taut and lips grow loose. 

God, he's a vision. Angelic. Otherworldly – and then he's painting you in all that he is. Laying claim to your body. Marking you in him . It's a mess quite frankly; all of your slickness and his cum on your tummy, dripping down your pussy. It's a waste of a shower, but an excuse to have another.

Slowly, he pulls the toy from you. Is greeted with a sight worthy of preserving; pussy soaked and swollen, still needy for him.

With the toy in one hand, Jeongguk reaches over to your bedside table. Grabs the Polaroid. Watches on with a fond smile as you giggle at his actions.

"Really?" You raise a brow, against your forehead so you can shyly cover your eyes if needs be. You don't hide your smile though.

"You're so gorgeous," he whispers, pointing the camera to the mess between your legs. Presses down on the shutter, and lets the mechanical whir echo into the room. "My pretty girl."

In classic Jeongguk fashion, he nips the Polaroid with his teeth as it prints, just so he can take another shot.

Reaching for your hand, you're not really sure what he's gonna do with it. What you are sure of is the fact that you'll let him do whatever he likes with it.

Much to your surprise, he simply holds it. Positions your linked hands on top of the ruffled duvet, and takes the shot. Says nothing. Kind of hard to, given that that other damn Polaroid is still between his teeth.

Instead, he lets you take the camera from him. There can't be more than a couple of shots left, but you don't check. Just hold your hand out. Are aiming the be touching his chest, but he takes your hand and brings it to his lips for a kiss, instead. Aiming the camera from his belly button upwards, the picture you take hides the sin that's really occurred – and yet it couldn't feel more apt.

"Such a gent," you giggle as the photo prints. You set the camera back on your bedside table, and pull Jeongguk down to meet you. A nudging of noses occurs, because you are you and Jeongguk is Jeongguk. He smiles. Giggles.

"How did I ever live without you," he simpers, kissing you softly. There's a star-like quality to him in the aftermath of your orgasm. There would have been, even if he, himself, hadn't finished. In fact, he only ever finishes these days by making sure you do.

"It's a miracle," you agree.

There's no talk of the rules that were broken. There will be, eventually, but you're both telling yourselves it didn't count. You didn't fuck . Barely even touched one another. Mutual masturbation; one of the oldest birds in the book. Revision, some may call it. Cheating, others may view it as.

"C'mon," he eventually whispers after an eternity of being curled up beside you. "Let's get cleaned up, then bed, yeah?"

"You staying?"

"Well, I hadn't planned on leaving," Jeongguk smiles. "Unless you want me to?"

"No. Stay. Please."

As he nestles his nose into the crook of your neck, the scent of your hair products lingering ever so subtly, Jeongguk finds he likes it just as much as he loves your perfume. Hums. Says nothing, just presses a soft kiss to your throat.

Stay , he thinks. Knows that he'd love to do nothing more.

"Hey," you whisper, toying with a little bit of his hair.

It's a small word. Insignificant. A greeting uttered in passing to strangers and lovers alike – yet when Jeongguk is curled up against your body, his chronic need to have you near manifesting in the way he's unable to let you go, it's entirely different. It's no longer just a greeting. It's acceptance. This is life, now.

That's what you're saying hello to. Not to him, but to how things are.

And to be welcomed with such warmth? Such tenderness?

It's like giving Jeongguk a key.

He knows you've been his home for quite some time, but there's always been a fear he could get evicted, or that someone else might move in. That the bricks and mortar could come crashing down.

With a key comes permanence. Permission to help reinforce the walls. Safeguard the house from hurricanes.

In his fantasies, fueled by your perfume, Jeongguk is home.

Trapped in his domestic delusions, Jeongguk is home .

Bare feet on cold kitchen tiles in the midst of winter, Jeongguk is home.

Coffee steeping in a pot, the sound of your record collection humming out from the next room over, Jeongguk is home.

Sash windows ajar to let in fresh air and give him permission to complain about the energy bill, Jeongguk is home .

Your simpering smile as his arms wrap around his waist, early morning sun framing you both in a glimmering brilliance, Jeongguk is home.

The sway of your bodies in time to the music, no care for a world outside of those four walls, Jeongguk is home.

You're always older in these fantasies. Him, too. Working 9-5s. Have a dog. Have everything you need. Have each other.

"Hey."

The echo of his voice vibrates against you; a reminder that even the smallest of interactions with Jeongguk have the power to shatter you completely.

You think of the stars that linger in the night skies, and how they disintegrate in nothingness. Know that if Jeongguk were ever to see you collapse like that, he'd use his bare hands to hold you together. Much like the grip he has on your body, he keeps you secure, no matter what.

"Tomorrow," you begin quietly. "You have work?"

Nodding, he groans a little.

"Same," you sigh. "Evening shift."

"Grab coffee before you start?" He offers. "I'll probably head off early in the morning. Need to go to the gym, considering you're not helping me out with cardio these days."

Laughing at the crassness of his remark, you find yourself comfortably smitten with the current state of affairs.

"Yeah, we can grab coffee," you confirm. "Walk me to work?"

"Was planning on it."

"Good," you smile. "Was just checking."

It's not like you expected any less. He always walks with you when you get coffee together before a shift. Makes no change now, even if the nature of what you have going on has altered ever so slightly.

Or, so you tell yourself.

See, when Jeongguk meets you the next day, everything is exactly as it was.

Laughter is shared between you, like the sips of each other's coffees that are exchanged when you go rogue and order a coconut coffee instead of your usual Americano.

"Tastes like shit," he tells you, decidedly not a fan.

"So you don't want to kiss me?" You tease.

"I do," he counters. "But I'm scared your little group of Ajummas will see us and rain hell down upon me again."

"If they do, it's cause you deserve it," you laugh. "You're not in their bad books anymore."

"No?"

"Well, it's been a while since I last gave them the down-low. Truth be told, I think Minsu will have a heart attack if I tell her."

"It's the tattoos, isn't it?" He pouts, not really caring in the slightest. "I'll wear long sleeves around them."

And as a surprise to Jeongguk, you slip your fingers between his. Pull his hand up and nod towards the ink on his knuckles. Say, "Gloves, too."

"You just wanted to hold my hand," he teases, not letting go as you try to drop your grasp.

Smug, you don't give him a direct response. Just shrug. Let your hand settle comfortably, his thumb resting on top of yours.

Jeongguk uses it to his advantage, pulling you down a side street. Part of you thinks he's just after that kiss you mentioned, but he quickly says, "Wanna show you something."

The roads are familiar to you. You're not too far from work, in the downtown area. These streets look different in daylight, typically only traipsed down by you in the dark of night, often in a drunken stupor. The way Jeongguk has you feeling – all giddy and giggly – isn't too dissimilar from a star fucker heading straight into your bloodstream.

Takes you a second to realise the direction you're heading in, until it becomes far more apparent.

In the distance sits the empty unit Jeongguk has had his eye on for as long as you've known him. The FOR LET signs have changed. They're no longer yellow.

Now, they're red.

And they read FOR SALE.

Easing to a halt, Jeongguk nods towards the derelict building. Says nothing. Lets the mid-afternoon traffic on the main road a few streets over soundtrack the melancholy ache in his chest.

"Y'know, I just thought it was up for lease for so long because the economy is bad," he says softly. Purses his lips. Looks down towards you, then back up at the building.

It's easy to imagine the place bustling. Lights on, Jeongguk's laughter echoing from the rafters. The sound of sizzling meat fills your ears, and the clink of glasses being cheered creating the perfect harmony.

Truthfully, you've no idea how Jeongguk would decorate it. Just know whatever he chooses would be perfect.

"So why has it been empty for so long?" You enquire.

He takes a second to form his response. Hasn't told anyone yet. Not even Yoongi.

"The owners passed away," Jeongguk exhales. "I'd spoken with them a few times, and I, uh... Yeah, I didn't know it had happened. Anyway, their son inherited it and-" he nods to the new signage "-has no interest in keeping the place."

There's a devastation in his tone that breaks your heart. The puzzle pieces begin to fall into place, but you wish they wouldn't.

"So what does it me-"

"Means that my business proposal is void in the eyes of the bank. The loan was good to go, just had to sign a few documents," Jeongguk hangs his head down as he talks, ashamed, almost, for taking so long to get his shit together. If he'd have just been faster . More pro-active. Gone to school earlier... He could have done so many things differently. Eventually, he looks up. Shrugs. Continues, "Majority of the loan was intended to be used on the premises. Without it, the business plan and expenditure predictions all fall apart. Bank won't touch the application with a ten-foot pole, now."

"So," you say quietly, fully intending on following it up with more words, but find yourself falling short. You know exactly what this means, yet you fear speaking it into existence.

Jeongguk's come to terms with it. Sort of.

"So," he nods. "Loans gone."

And with it, so has his dream.

"But can't you-"

"Trust me, B, if you've thought of it, so have I. Been wracking my brains how to raise enough capital, but I'm in no position to buy the building outright," he tells you.

"There must be another building-"

"B, this building is the dream."

You know, in your heart of hearts, that Jeongguk is responding emotionally right now, even if he is delivering it as facts.

His dream is his restaurant.

He can build it no matter which four walls it's within.

But the whole point of a dream is to have everything you want. So yeah, he is being a little defeatist right now, but you can't blame him.

"So what are you gonna do about it?" You ask, because he's clearly not after advice right now.

And yet he shrugs. Quietly admits, "Don't know."

Accepting his answer, you choose not to press down on the wound too hard. Instead, you ask when he found out.

"Pohang," he sighs. "On the drive there."

You loosen your grip on his hand and slink an arm around his waist. Squeeze.

You're content when he drapes his arm over your shoulders and does the same thing back.

"I'm sorry," you offer, because it's all you can do right now.

"Not your fault," he says, pressing a kiss to your head. "I'll figure it out, B. I always do."

Turning your head, you stand on your tippy toes. Wait for him to turn his head a little lower. Smile as his lips press against yours for just a moment. Eyes closed as he pulls away, there's a radiance to him despite the rainfall of bad luck he's experienced.

A kiss fixes nothing, but it does make him feel so much better.

"I know you will," you agree. Don't doubt him for a second.

"C'mon," he insists, taking your hand once more, heading for the main road. "You'll be late."

You won't be. Jeongguk just doesn't wanna dwell on it any longer. Was unsure if he was even gonna tell you about what happened. Is a little embarrassed.

But if there's one thing about Jeongguk, it's that he commits.

Committed to his dream. Committed to seeing it through, regardless of the outcome.

And more recently, even if nothing has formally been declared, he committed himself to you, too.

The topic of conversation is changed to something far lighter – Yoongi and Seoyeon's wedding – with the both of you deciding that honesty is not the best policy when it comes to your friends.

"Not yet," you admit when Jeongguk asks if you want to share the change in status from 'just friends'. "Sort of want to indulge in it for a while, you know?"

Jeongguk smiles. Makes no change to life as it has been, if you choose to keep a lid on things for now. Both of you want to focus on their big day. It should be all about them.

As ring bearer, Jeongguk has a vital role to play. One of the few roles, actually.

Seoyeon elected not to have bridesmaids, opting for her older sister to be her Maid of Honour. Likewise, Yoongi's opted to have just a best man, and picked his brother for the role. Easier that way. Less people to offend, and more focus where it should be – on the couple you're all celebrating.

Jeongguk only scored the gig as keeper of the rings because Seoyeon thought he needed a purpose – something to look forward to – after the breakdown of his friendship with Hayun all those months ago. Kind of remarkable, how much has changed since then, but neither Yoongi nor Seoyeon wanted to take the privilege away from him.

Credit where it's due; they've never met a more diligent man for the role. Every few weeks, he texts Yoongi, and asks him to check if the rings are safe.

They remain where they always are: in the safe hidden under the bed in the spare room.

Jeongguk doesn't think it's a very good hiding place. Tells Yoongi so, every single time he confirms they're safe.

"Got your suit sorted?" You ask, curious about what he'll be wearing.

"Mhhm," he hums. "Got your dress sorted?"

"Mhmm," you hum right back.

"Colour?" Jeongguk checks, just so he can be prepared.

Seoyeon had sent out a colour palette which had, admittedly, helped you narrow down your choices – but sage green and deep teal weren't colours you wore too often. All options felt a little bit alien to you.

"You'll see," you simply smile, not really wanting to give anything away – after all, you've something to prove now. A man to impress (even if he is seemingly entranced, no matter what you wear).

"Tease," he pouts – but when you ask him the same question, he smirks and says, "You'll see."

When you round the corner towards your place of work, you both separate a little. It isn't discussed, nor premeditated, just a habit.

The pretence of being just friends still lingers, even if his eyes sparkle as he says goodbye, like the glitter on his skin catching in the mid-afternoon sun. He bites down on his bottom lip. Lets his ring do the thing. Keeps looking back even as he walks away.

Turns out, you are late for work, only by a couple of minutes, and not Jeongguk's fault at all.

It's all yours, and the fact you refused to stop watching him walk away until he was out of sight entirely, your hand twiddling with silver bird around your neck.

You're reminded of winter. Christmas. The gift he'd given you that wear with pride, and the chopping board that sits next to his stovetop that had been intended to live inside his restaurant.

"Hobes," you call out as you make your way into the art café, not caring for any punters who may overhear. "I need your help."

He cocks a brow. "Nice to see you, Hoseok. How are you? How's your day been?"

Rolling your eyes as you set your bag down, you counter his sarcasm with a bribe you know he won't refuse.

"I'm asking Namjoon for help, too – are you in, or not?"

He narrows his eyes, mainly so you can't see his pupils dilating at the mere mention of his terribly hidden crush.

"You're a witch," he assures you.

"And it's why you love me," you smirk. "Now are you gonna help me or not?"

Tossing his phone down onto the desk, he relents. Was always gonna help you, but was always gonna be a little tricky about it. Typical him. "Fine. Tell me your spells."

"We've got an issue."

"Hm?" You sleepily mumble into your phone, rudely awoken from an evening nap that probably would have ended up turning into sleep had it not been for the violent buzz of Jeongguk blowing up your phone.

"It's Yoongi."

"What?!" You gasp, bolting upright from your relaxed position. "What do you mean?"

Just a few hours until midnight hits, it's the day before the wedding.

"He forgot the rings-"

"Oh my god," you practically yell into the phone. "Lead with that next time, Gguk! I thought something awful had happened!"

"It has!" He whines, and you just know he's pouting. "Ring bearer is my job; without the rings, I have nothing ."

"Okay, so are you gonna do anything about it?" You groan through the telephone, far too tired for his indecisions.

"Yep. Gonna get them," he tells you.

"You mean to tell me you had that planned already?" You deadpan.

"Well, yeah."

"God, I'm gonna kill you when I see you next," you half laugh, half mumble, trying to fight a yawn. "Woke me for nothing."

"Okay, well, hurry up," he says, dismissing your threat of murder. "I'm parked outside your place-"

"What?!"

"You didn't answer my texts!"

"Because I was sleeping ."

"And now you're not," he says, and you just know he's got a smug little grin on his pretty face. How can you refuse?

"I'll be down in five."

In his car, Jeongguk is radiant. Has missed you over the past few days. Wanted to spend time with you, but didn't wanna have too much of a good thing.

Yoongi had called him in a panic about half an hour ago. Already at the wedding hotel with their families, neither he nor Seoyeon could leave to go and get the rings. Luckily for them, Jeongguk was quite possibly the best choice they could have made regarding their wedding. Offered to go and get the rings before Yoongi had even finished his sentence.

He'll keep them safe up until the ceremony.

The thing is, the drive to their home takes an absolute age – and he misses you. Of course he was gonna ask you to come with.

"Sorry for waking you," he offers as you pop his door open, sinking into the passenger seat. He can see your sleepiness in your eyes, and the way you carry yourself. Posture sloped, he knows you must have been cosy.

"It's okay," you reassure him with a sleepy smile, body clad in a pair of leggings and one of his shirts.

He reaches over. Holds your cheek. Reconfirms how enamoured he is when your eyes close, head leaning into his touch.

"You can sleep if you want," he says. Feels quite bad, now.

"The quicker you start driving, the quicker I can go back to bed," you smile softly, even if your words are a little snippy. You don't mean to them be, and he knows this, so he smiles back.

"Right you are."

The drive is everything you'd expect it to be: roads pretty empty, skies dark, light pollution obscuring the stars. He's got a chilled playlist humming through his speakers, encouraging you to sleep again, but you're restless. Have something on your mind that you desperately want to ignore – but if you can't share things with Jeongguk, what on earth is all this for?

You're nearly at Yoongis by the time you eventually blurt out, "Hayun messaged me."

Jeongguk is quiet for a moment. Frowns. "Saying?"

Part of you thinks her message is the reason for your grouchiness. Tiredness, too. Sleeping to avoid dealing with it.

"Some bollocks about getting off on the wrong foot," you sigh. Wasn't even that bad, even if it was total bullshit. "Reckons she doesn't want things to be awkward tomorrow, so was offering a white flag."

Hayun has presented Jeongguk with many flags in the time he's known her – and none of them have ever been anything other than red.

"Okay," he nods. Doesn't wanna say too much but fears saying too little, too. "Did you reply?"

"No," you admit.

"Are you going to?"

"Feel like I should."

"But do you want to?"

"No."

"Then don't, B," he says softly. Shrugs. "It's not like you owe her anything."

"Yeah, but if I don't reply, then I'm the one being difficult," you stew. Danbi had told you to ignore it, but you're a chronic people-pleaser. If you can ease a situation, you'll try to. "I just don't want drama. Especially not tomorrow."

"There won't be," he assures you. Genuinely thinks you needn't worry, but knows it's far easier said than done. "Look, Hayun is a lot of things, but she's not the type to ruin one of her best friends' weddings just because she's jealous of someone."

"Jealous?" You almost scoff. Of all Hayun's gripes with you, jealousy has never seemed to be one of them.

"Jealous," he nods. Thinks it's obvious. You're the artsy one – surely you realise that red hides green. Obscures it. Balances it out on the surface, but beneath it all, the green remains. "You've got something she can't have, B – and she doesn't like that."

"Are you trying to say she wants my tits?" You chirp, deliberately playing dumb, but also because you know she's gorgeous . It's the only department you think you come up trumps in. Stupidly wanna remind him of it.

"Probably," Jeongguk smirks. Reaches over. Squeezes one. Loves the way you feel. "Mhmm. Yeah, definitely ."

Laughing, you swat his hand away, pleased that he doesn't take the occasionally petty nature of your reactions too seriously. There's an ease to Jeongguk that remedies your woes. Makes everything feel a little effortless; like you aren't restricted by the gravity of this planet. With him, you're floating. Free. Orbiting around him, 'cause there's nothing that centres you more than he does.

Not letting your hand go, Jeongguk brings your knuckles to his lips. Presses a sincere kiss against them. Says, "I'm not gonna force you to be friends with her. Do what feels right to you."

And see, it's funny, 'cause Jeongguk treats you with such compassion, the only thing that feels right is telling him to pull over so you can show him exactly how thankful you are.

You won't.

But you want to.

Truthfully, you want him in the most explicit of ways. Want him to pull into a layby, not even off the main road. Want to be in his lap, lips on his. Want his hands all over your body, the sound of his stereo pale compared to the harmony of how you whine for one another.

Almost as if you've conditioned yourself, your brain tells you , 'that's not very friendly' .

The thoughts get you crossing your legs, and gently reclaiming ownership of your hand.

"Unless you want to be friends with her?" Jeongguk questions, aware of the way you're closing off.

"No," you say without any malice. "There's no point."

"If she bothers you tomorrow," he glances over to catch your expression, and is pleased to see a light smile on your face as you look towards the dark road ahead. "Just come find me."

"We not gonna be keeping a distance?" you hum, having understood that Jeongguk wasn't keen on other people knowing just yet.

And while it's true, he wants to hold on to your little affair for a while longer without the intrusion of outside opinions, it doesn't mean ignoring you entirely.

"Would we be keeping a distance normally, B?" He questions.

"Well, no."

"Exactly. Would be weirder if we were avoiding one another, wouldn't it?"

He's got a good point. You tell him so.

"What was that?" he grins, because you did not , in fact, tell him so. You grumbled an incoherent noise that was supposed to indicate that he made a good point. It also meant admitting you were being a little overdramatic and didn't want to do that.

"You heard."

"I didn't."

"Should get your ears checked."

"B," Jeongguk laughs. "Just admit I'm right."

"No."

It's the principle, more than anything, that makes you not want to give in. You also enjoy the flirt of it all, but you'll never admit to that weakness.

"I'm right," he tells you – and something about his confidence has your brain back on your desire to have him pull over.

As he knocks the indicator to turn up the road to Yoongi's home, you're thankful that you'll be out of the car soon. Know that there's no way you could have survived any longer in there with him.

"You're a right dickhead," you banter as he comes to a stop. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you don't hesitate to open the side door.

"What's gotten into you?" He laughs, softly closing his door without much fuss, following you up towards the house.

"Nothing!" you almost whine. "I mean-"

"You wanna fuck me, don't you?"

The question is so abrupt that it stops you in your tracks.

"Oh my God."

"Oh, don't play coy," he laughs, reaching for your waist.

The only reason he even knows that sex is the issue is 'cause the lack of it has been making him act all irrational, too. Finds relief that he's not the only one going insane.

You shake him off. "I'm not playing anything ."

"Yes, you are," he continues laughing, and paws out for you again. This time, there's a little less resistance, but you eventually rid yourself of him. "B, c'mon. I know you. I know your tells."

"You know nothing," you insist. "And I'm actually getting away from you, not trying to get in your pants."

"Only 'cause you don't trust yourself to be too close," he smirks, gripping your wrist. It's firmer, this time. Dominant, when he pulls you back. Turns you. Gets your chest pressed up against his. "That's it, isn't it? You want me."

"I don't want anything."

"No?"

"No."

"Shame," he husks, nudging his pretty little nose against yours. "If I'd have known how insatiable you'd be tonight, I wouldn't have gotten off to videos of you earlier. "

"You did what?!"

"What?" He smirks. "The ones of us. You filmed them for a reason."

"And you-"

"Uh-huh," he nods, the position of his nestled nose deepening as his voice softens. "Came so hard."

"Fuck."

"You should watch them," he tells you. "See how pretty you are when you're taking my cock."

"Gguk," you exhale.

"Pretty all the time," he admits. Sinks his lips into yours without objection. Keeps his lips on yours even as he talks. "But fuck, B. Should see yourself cum."

"So that's why you're with me?" You challenge, 'cause it's either that or your start babbling on about how much you like him, too. "'Cause you like my cum face?"

"Mhmm," he nods. Kisses you again. "Why else would I be with you?"

Neither of you discusses the fact that you aren't technically together, even if saying it makes you feel like your blood is on fire, scorching through your veins with unrelenting force.

"My big-"

"Tits?"

"Brain," you correct. "Tits, too."

"I like 'em both," he tells you – and then he's kissing you again, palms to your cheeks, tongue invasive, moans vibrating. "So much, B."

The isolation of Yoongi's property provides you both with a luxury you've never had before: the chance to kiss him like you mean it out in the open. There's no hiding what's happening. No quick glances to check you're in the clear, and no need to fear getting caught. 

Your arms wrap around his neck, standing on the very tip of your toes as the sensation of what it's like to kiss Jeongguk takes hold of you once more; the roughness of his lips as they forget to be gentle, and the pressure of his metal lip ring against your skin. His hands roam. Squeeze. Sink beneath the hemline of your shirt; hold your waist but desperately fight the need to hold your tits instead.

"Gguk," you pant a little breathlessly. "We can't."

"Says who?" He whines into your mouth, pulling your lips back to his.

"Says us," you giggle, sinking back down from your elevated height, soft palms on his cheeks. There's a blushed plumpness to his lips, a little swollen from how he'd been kissing you as if it was the last chance he'd ever have.

There's a wateriness to his eyes, even in the dark. The porch lights shine in his eyes, and it's about now that you notice your glitter all over his skin. Even if you play 'friends' at the wedding, there's no mistaking whose hotel room he's gonna end up in after the reception.

"We'll stop off at a convenience store on the way home," you tell him softly. "Grab snacks. Make this date three. A mini-road trip."

"That's cheating," he pouts.

"So pull something out of your ass," you grin. "If you wanna hurry this ordeal along, then you gotta make this a date. Now c'mon. Let's get the rings."

Jeongguk relents. Lets you pull away, and drag him by the hand up to the house. Unlike your apartments in the heart of the city, Yoongi's front door operates with a good old lock and key, instead of a pin pad. There's a nostalgia to the crisp sound of metal grating against itself as Jeongguk twists the lock, opening the door.

Shoes off, you let Jeongguk lead the way up to the spare room.

You've only ever been in there once. Christmas. Part of you feels guilty, as if it will remind him of the gift and the situation with the restaurant.

If it does, he doesn't mention it. Other than a few mumbles narrating what he's doing, he doesn't say anything – "Safe's under the bed. Think I 'member the code. Hold on. Shit. Ah, wait, no. There we go."

He checks the boxes and ensures the rings sit prettily in their cushions. Custom designed, Yoongi had gotten a friend within the local craft industry to make them. The perks of his work meant that Yoongi had connections in all of the creative fields over the city, and it has proven insanely helpful when planning a wedding.

It's a get-in, get-out operation. Neither of you want a particularly late night, not with the wedding tomorrow.

There are, remarkably, some things you deem more important than your need to have Jeongguk inside you. The wedding is one of these things.

You're maybe twenty from home, when Jeongguk says, "Stay at mine tonight."

"Hm?"

He repeats himself, a little louder. "Stay at mine tonight, B. No funny business."

You never stopped from snacks. Date three never materialised, because Jeongguk has solid plans for it. As much as he wants the dates over and done with, he also wants to spend with you. Doesn't want to hurry them along all the time. Just most of the time.

"Alright," you eventually concede. "Take us home."

[akazzzaa]

concept: if all the demons, lower & upper moon and muzan were able to cook, what would they make & bring for thanksgiving, if they celebrated with their s/o?

Sorry for being late! I'm unfamiliar with Thanksgiving day so I tried to do some research to make it accurate, Not a lot of American style food will be included cause they are from japan, but they try

A/N- I'm no chef, I had to look for a lot of recipes that would be 'demonic' and thanksgiving too ?

Characters- Muzan, Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza, Tamayo, Emnu

Summary- What they would cook for you on Thanksgiving

Genre- Fluff

Warnings- None really just a mention on blood once

Muzan

Muzan knows languages and understands a lot of cultures from around the world. He is interested in how different counties have such different taste in food. All human food is gross to him but he is the only demon who can actually eat human food without throwing up. He only eats human food to blend in. A very good cook otherwise.

I think Muzan would likely choose a high-quality turkey and he might incorporate a deep red cranberry sauce that reflects his demonic side while still being suitable for a Thanksgiving table. Carrots glazed with a blood orange reduction could be a visually striking and flavourful side dish. For dessert, a dark chocolate pecan pie could be Muzan's choice for you, combining sweetness with a hint of darkness. For a drink, Muzan would craft a special cocktail with dark fruits, red wine, and a touch of something more sinister. blood

Kokushibo

Given that Kokushibo lived during the Taisho era in Japan, he might appreciate traditional Japanese cuisine. If he were to celebrate Thanksgiving with his significant other, he might choose to prepare a special Japanese meal with a touch of elegance. He knows nothing about American cuisine and doesn't care to learn about it. He's the one cooking. You are the one eating. If you don't like it, make it yourself. He didn't cook a lot as a human but he knows his way around a kitchen.

He would cook sushi rolls with fresh fish, vegetables, and perhaps some unique ingredients to showcase his culinary skills. Light and crispy tempura made with seasonal vegetables and shrimp, served with a flavourful dipping sauce. A delicate Chawanmushi (Steamed Egg Custard)with ingredients like chicken, shrimp, and ginkgo nuts, steamed to perfection. Skewers of grilled chicken, perhaps with a teriyaki glaze, showcasing a balance of sweet and savoury flavours. For desert, a unique dessert that combines the rich flavours of matcha green tea with the creamy goodness of cheesecake.

Douma

Douma is an amazing cook, just under Muzan, he has chefs that cook for the followers but he has cooked many dishes for people during his lifetime. He's unfamiliar with American food but he will try for you.

Douma might appreciate a unique twist on the traditional Thanksgiving turkey. The glaze could be made with blood orange juice, honey, and spices, giving it a rich and flavourful coating with Truffle Mashed Potatoes. Then Douma may choose a red wine reduction sauce to enhance the flavour of the meal and tie the meal together. Douma is better at baking but doesn't think humans should eat to much sweets. But today is a one off for you both, he would create a visually striking dessert, perhaps with dark chocolate and exotic fruits.

Akaza

Not a bad cook, has never cooked until he met you and he's gotten better at it. He respects you and your culture so he will want to cook a Japanese-American dish for you.

Akaza could marinate the turkey in a special teriyaki sauce infused with cherry blossom flavours, giving it a unique and sophisticated twist. Instead of traditional sweet potato dishes, Akaza might opt for sweet potatoes glazed with a miso-based sauce, adding a savoury and umami-rich element to the dish. Fresh green beans cooked to perfection and tossed with a sesame dressing, providing a crunchy and nutty complement to the meal. For dessert, Akaza might choose to make a matcha-flavored tiramisu, combining the traditional Italian dessert with a Japanese green tea twist. To accompany the meal, Akaza might select a high-quality sake, demonstrating his refined taste and appreciation for Japanese beverages.

Tamayo

Given her background and the fact that she is knowledgeable about herbs and medicines, she might prepare a unique and exotic dish that incorporates flavors inspired by her extensive knowledge. Perhaps she would create a dish with rare herbs and spices, combining them in a way that showcases her expertise.

Tamayo might infuse traditional Thanksgiving turkey with a Japanese twist by using a miso glaze. Miso adds a rich, savoury flavour that complements the turkey. A stuffing made with Japanese mushrooms like shiitake and maitake, along with chestnuts, could be a flavourful side dish reflecting Tamayo's expertise with herbs and ingredients. A selection of pickled vegetables, such as daikon radish and carrots, could serve as a refreshing palate cleanser between bites of the richer dishes. For dessert, a matcha-flavored treat like matcha cheesecake or matcha-flavored mochi could be a delight to the Thanksgiving feast. She has modified her body to drink human tea, so she will watch you eat all the food she cooked but the only thing you two can enjoy together is a cup of tea. And she makes a good cup of tea.

Enmu

Will give you food poisoning. Do not eat his food

[mygildednostalgia]

Astrology of the Week

“Eclipsed” by Misty

✨Monday, March 24th: Sun conjunct Mercury Retrograde (Rx)

This Mercury retrograde period brings a lot of re-evaluations regarding the ideas we want to bring to life, potentially even old ideas that we previously let fall to the wayside. The sun meets up with Mercury, revitalizing our minds with a fresh burst of solar power. Old concepts and conversations can now be looked at from a fresh new perspective.

✨Tuesday, March 25th: Mercury Rx sextile Pluto

As Mercury continues retracing its steps, it goes back to this aspect we last experienced on March 5th. After this enlightenment from yesterday, Pluto adds some focus-power to our minds. We’ll be wanting to get to the root of things today.

✨Thursday, March 27th: Venus Rx enters Pisces & Venus conjunct Neptune

With Venus in Aries, love is a battlefield. Now, Venus retraces its steps back into Pisces, where love becomes more of a fairytale —especially with Neptune coming into play. This feels like the make-up period after a fight with someone you love, when things can once again feel dreamy and cuddly. This is a great time to engage your sense of fantasy, especially when it comes to artistry.

✨Saturday, March 29th: Solar Eclipse in Aries & Mercury Rx enters Pisces

This day marks the last of the eclipses in the Aries/Libra cycle. Since 2023, we have been on a collective journey learning lessons about self vs. other, autonomy vs. dependence, and self-assertion vs. people pleasing. This has been a time of mastering the art of balancing our authentic selves within our interpersonal relationships. Solar eclipses are super-charged new moons to set us on new paths. It’s time to take all of these relational lessons into our next chapter.

Mercury retrograde entering Pisces this same day grants a wonderful opportunity for processing —maybe even mentally escaping— any of the eclipse craziness we’ve experienced this month. This will be a good day for reflecting and reconnecting to your oneness within.

✨Sunday, March 30th: Neptune enters Aries

We are experiencing important outer planet ingresses this year that mark the start of a new era. Neptune —the planet of dreams, illusion, and confusion— spends around 14 years in one sign, and for the last 14 years it was lost swimming with the fish. Today, it enters the sign of the pioneer, the warrior, and leader. The art of astrological prediction requires looking at the past in order to look to the future. The last time Neptune was in Aries was from 1861 - 1875, when we saw:

✨The American Civil War

✨The abolition of slavery in America

✨The invention of dynamite

✨Completion of the first transcontinental railroad

✨The start of the 2nd Industrial Revolution

This is the start of a deeper story unfolding when it comes to the illusion of leadership, and the illusion of the self-made person. This also speaks to the dream of striking out on one’s own in pursuit of freedom and autonomy. These next 8 months will be a taste of what’s to come for the next 14 years, as Neptune makes one final dip into the waters of Pisces later this year.

Book a reading

[ratticus-the-emperor]

re: 600 strike

— i can’t be the only epic fan bothered by six hundred strike right? but hold on, before i get crucified let me start this off by saying that vengeance saga was almost perfect. i really did love most of the songs and as someone who’s been anxiously waiting for them, ‘dangerous’ and ‘get in the water’ did not disappoint. my sole problem is with 600 strike alone and how the writing seems to take a sharp dip in quality.

don’t get me wrong, i think it’s a good song. i think ody was really cool in it and that it had some pretty cold lines, but how is it that ody needed moly to be on the same power level as circe but just… he can just stab poseidon with his own trident? poseidon? lord of the tides, earthshaker, father of horses, one of the ‘big three’? this goes beyond me being a nerd and just really liking homer and wanting it to stick with that happens in the original text, i understand that this is a retelling but … seriously? no matter how cool it is, poseidon is still one of the most powerful god in the pantheon and odysseus is still just a man(tm). are we to believe that poeseidon is below circe in power level? are we to believe that ody is above poseidon? jorge was right when he said this saga would be more anime, but i didn’t expect it to be ‘anime’ in the worst way possible, and this is coming from an anime fan. this whole song just feels like a power trip for ody and i feel like it just damages the writing in a way i can’t ignore. especially the way ody is going ‘how does it feel to be helpless?!’ while poseidon just screams in agony. it really really just feels like a power trip because realistically, this would not happen. i probably sound silly complaining but whatever, i have a right to speak on what bothers me.

i get that jay’s probably tired, i mean— slaving away on a musical for four years would tire out anyone, but i guess part of the reason it bothers me is that a sizable amount of epic’s fanbase isn’t that educated on greek myths and it just kind of hurts to see. i still have faith in the musical but this song, no matter how good it is, just kind of feels like a blight on an otherwise perfect saga with great writing. like i said, i like all the other songs. the friend i’m discussing this with says that to her epic isn't really meant to be a "serious" or "grounded" musical. jay literally makes it a point to memeify the entire thing (wheezer saga, literally almost ever vid he has posted). yeah 600 strike was stupid and silly, and so is jay. plus epic is an adaptation, not a recreation in musical form, it's his own story and he can do whatever he wants with it. and i respect that and like epic for what it is, silliness included. plus, it's a concept album. this is essentially a draft for a real musical album, it's not final, he's testing stuff out so i know i might be a little harsh. but since this is a draft, i just worry for the direction he’s taking it in. there’s many ways i which the final confrontation and escape with poseidon could’ve been handled and i can’t help but feel like this direction is bit out of character for either of them, especially since i feel like ody stabbing poseidon with his own trident was unnecessary. to me, odysseus’ victory over poseidon shouldn’t come in the form of literally defeating him, but in making it home to be with penelope despite everything the sea god does to stop him. it would be odysseus’s victory over everything and everyone’s that’s tried to stop him, really.

i take issue with how odysseus managed to stab poseidon with his own trident as well. are we to believe that poseidon, earthshaker, father of horses, he who rules the seas and controls the tides, one of the most powerful gods in the pantheon, can’t keep that firm of a grip on his incredibly powerful weapon? i assume ruling the seas, a very expansive and fickle domain, takes a great deal of focus and concentration. can he not extend the same focus when holding his trident? more importantly, why did he seem to be powerless without it? was he not the son of kronos and rhea before being given his trident? he has power beyond it, you know. the same friend i’m discussing it with poses a theory that i will quote verbatim, that being that ‘Poseidon dropped the trident on purpose, maybe it was some sort of sick pride seeing that he turned this once great guy into a monster. Like obv the events of 600 strike could never happen, bc Gods ARE stronger than mortals, so he probably didn't see him as a threat at all. Cause if odysseus didn’t stop, it’s not like they’d be going at it forever. He’s mortal and eventually will pass out from exhaustion. Then poseidon is completely free to do whatever he wants. So in that context, it’s a win win situation for him. Either his opponent leaves scarred for life or becomes completely at the god’s mercy.’

yet still, i can’t help but feel like that would be out of character for poseidon. he’s not the kind of god to be arrogant in that manner. that’s an ares thing. an apollo thing, etc. but not poseidon. the seas are either calm or unforgiving. the seas don’t clear one safe path in the middle of a storm to taunt the ship before swallowing it whole. the seas either wreck it or do nothing at all. the ship can try and navigate its way through the storm but by because the sea lets it. it does that by sheer force of will of the captain. the captain won’t insist on fighting it because that’d be stupid and the main priority is getting to safety. home. the nearest port. especially not a captain like odysseus who we’ve seen sacrifice many and suffered through so much just to get home. he’s not the kind of man to waste time by doing something he doesn’t need to be doing. it feels like when an author you likes makes a questionable story decision that harms the story, but they keep their excellent writing style. it’s upsetting.

that being said, i still really like this musical and can’t wait to see where this goes. like i said, i still have faith in jorge and his writing. this is just something i felt the need to get off my chest. it’s a shame that my first epic post would be a complaint… it’s silly, but don’t worry. i’m aware that i’m coming off like i’m stomping my foot, yelling ‘this isn’t how it’s supposed to be!!’ because this is driven by many ‘i feel’s and ‘i think’s.

[warpfive]

QUIET CALCULATIONS (WHERE THE FAULT LIES)

request : Could you please do Crush > Confession > Dating for Seven of Nine ☆ seven of nine x reader wc: 702 gif

for seven of nine, developing and acting upon romantic feelings might as well be akin to taking a dip in the ocean without learning how to swim. she was generally aware of the physical symptoms - elevated blood pressure and dilating pupils and other scientific signs. but to actually experience them, along with the rush of strange emotions, unnerved seven at the start.

she’s always so sure of herself. content to let facts and logic guide her in spite of her humanity testing her resolve sometimes. and yes, as her time on voyager went on, her emotions came through from time to time. but not this. never an intense attraction to someone she thought of as a friend. not the unpleasant tightness in her stomach or clammy palms or an inability to make direct eye contact with you.

the doctor was “over the moon,” so to speak, when seven confided in him. she seemed intent on believing it was some sort of malfunction in her neural implants, and found little solace in the doctor giving her a clean bill of health and some unwanted advice.

spend more time with you? talk to you more? get to know you? such simple asks for anybody else, it bewildered seven that he would even suggest it. for a while, she chose to ignore the doctor’s advice - in an unBorg-like decision, maybe ignoring her feelings would make them go away. but one afternoon, when you were assigned to assist seven in some scans, it seemed so… natural to talk with you. as natural as socializing could be for seven, anyway.

frustratingly, others started to pick up on seven’s strange new feelings. captain janeway was the first, of course. she was amused but supportive, and gave more helpful words than the doctor. tom paris was among those who were more amused than supportive, having offered a “special holodeck program” so you and seven could “get to know each other better.” but seven was content with late night conversations over a panel and PADDs.

fear was an emotion she was still getting used to. it always hits her like a crack of lightning when she least expects it. seven feels the full brunt of it when an away mission goes wrong, and you’re hurt and bleeding, and the terror strikes her with its blinding white heat. in reality, it takes only a few minutes for voyager to realign their transporter signals, but it feels much longer for seven. too long.

it’s there in sickbay - with the doctor struggling to keep himself from eavesdropping - where seven of nine is open about her feelings. how much she’s come to enjoy your presence, your view on things, your intelligence - most importantly, how you see her. not as ex-Borg or formerly-human or however the crew tends to see her. just seven of nine. and she would deeply regret it if you could no longer be her friend.

her fears came true, in a funny way. strictly speaking, you were no longer friends. seven didn’t exactly know what to call it, and you always assured her that a title wasn’t very important to you. but surely private dinners in your quarters, late nights in the holodeck, and (attempting to) stargaze together meant you two were something.

dating was a concept seven never bothered to learn and practice with in her inital lessons with the doctor, and now she’s regretting her shortsightedness. you were patient and open-minded, yet seven was ever the perfectionist. thinking things needed to be just so in order for a date to be considered a success.

so to her surprise, you tell her that every day you spend with her is a success in your book. even if you did nothing but work in silence, or catch each others’ eyes during an emergency, or seven backing up one of your ideas during a briefing. it’s the little things that mean the most, and that’s a concept that seven of nine is still working to understand.

but really, it’s not that difficult to grasp. not when seven finds that she’s most relaxed when you two end up right where you started - together, in the cargo bay, talking to each other as if you’re the only people on the ship.

[wolves-and-dragons]

A Lark Among the Wolves and Dragons: Chapter 13

Main Masterlist

Chapter 12.5

Synopsis: Finally arriving in King's Landing, Daemon ensures the Lady of Larks does as he says before presenting his daughter before the king and Small Council. The troubaritz, in turn, ensures Ciri says nothing that will get all of them in bigger trouble than they already might be.

CW: toxic relationship with power imbalance undertones, mentions of kidnapping, swearing, possessive Daemon, faint more mentions of anti-elven bigotry

Also at this point in the timeline, Viserys has recently married Alicent and she is expecting her first child.

"I should have Caraxes burn those pointy eared bastards for their insolence," Daemon sneers once on the saddle. "Don't you dare," you scold, "the elves are already persecuted enough as it is for because of the shape of their ears. You'll only contribute to lessening their numbers."

"They had us bound, and were willing to kill a defenseless woman and her child, along with the girl. Why would you defend them?"

"Don't speak of things you know nothing of," you snap, "they have their reasons for being the way they are. Not that you would understand, you've never been in their position. You don't know what they've been through."

Daemon gave you a confused look, like this concept was completely foreign to him.

"I forget how overly kind you can be sometimes," he admits, "take care that someone doesn't take advantage of it someday." "Yeah, SOMEone," you mutter sarcastically, thinking about the irony of the situation. Daemon didn't seem to pick up on that cue.

"What did you even say to them?" the prince asks.

"...I bluffed," you decide to tell him, "I let them believe your death would be avenged should they strike you down."

Daemon chuckled a bit; knowing his brother, it would never have come to that. "A clever little Lark you are-" "Just so we're clear, I didn't do this for you," you interrupt, "I did it so they would spare Aemma and Ciri."

Daemon glared at you, but decided to accept it as he would've done anything to protect his daughter as well.

"You alright, Ciri?" you ask the girl, to which she nods; Ciri had started to wonder if some the elves of that group once lived in Cintra before her grandmother had sent soldiers to drive them out and put their heads on spikes. The guilt was gnawing at her at this point as she had lived her whole life in a castle before this, blissfully unaware of her grandmother's hatred of this race and the harm it had caused.

As the dragon took off into the skies, the elves became smaller until they disappeared from view. Although you were feeling relief that you and the girls were spared the fate of arrows through your chests and heads, you could still feel your heart race for what was to come in King's Landing.

Before long the land began to disappear and was replace by a vast expanse of water. The Continent was behind you now. The next time you saw land again would on the shores of Westeros.

--------------time skip to King's Landing-----------------

"So what is King's Landing like?" Ciri asks as they got closer to land. "Have you ever been to Novigrad Ciri?" you ask her.

"No," the girl shakes her head. "Well, we'd better off there then this den of vipers," you say to her, "just stick close to me when we get to the Red Keep. And let me do the talking."

Ciri was about to protest, but then Caraxes dipped down across Blackwater Bay and the came up over the buildings of King's Landing.

Ciri looked down in awe, as people from down below stared up at the sight before them; while it wasn't uncommon to see a dragon flying over the city, it had been a while since anyone in King's Landing had seen Caraxes flying over.

The dragon passes over the Red Keep and finally makes it to the Dragon pit.

Once Caraxes landed, Daemon dismounted, helping you down, followed by Ciri. The Dragon Keepers arrive and greet the prince, some looking at you and Ciri rather strangely, especially when they saw Aemma in your arms with her silver blonde hair being the most striking thing about her.

"Good to be back, isn't it?" Daemon says as he places a hand on your back and leads you to the keep.

"Yeah, certainly is," you mutter, keeping Aemma close you, "the stench of shit could be smelled even before we made it to Blackwater Bay. Sure prefer that to the smell of fresh snow and freshly brewed ale at Kaer Morhen."

Before Daemon could retaliate, Ser Harrold Westerling approached, two guards at each side, "His Grace awaits in the throne room," he announces, looking at you to see the babe in your arms, "gods be good," mutters before addressing the prince further, "this way."

You, Daemon, and Ciri follow, but the guards stop Ciri. "The girl is with me," you tell them. The guards look to Daemon, who nods in approval, and they lower their defenses.

"Does any of this feel familiar to you?" you whisper to Ciri.

"In some ways," Ciri admits, remembering the castle she grew up in back in Cintra, "we didn't have a dragon pit though. And it wasn't quite as warm there as it is here."

"Remember what I said before," you say to the girl, "whatever is about to be said, you can't refute it. For Aemma's sake, Ciri. Do you understand?" "I...think so," Ciri says, having a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach about what was going to happen.

Inside the Throne Room sat King Viserys on the Iron Throne; by his side was Otto and on his other side, to your surprise, was Alicent who was dressed in red. You take notice of the young Hightower woman's swelled belly.

Next to Alicent was Rhaenyra, who seemed relieved the moment she saw you.

Accompanying were others members of the Small Council: Grand Maester Mellos, Lord Corlys, and Lord Lyonel.

You keep your gaze down, having taken notice of the rather hard and intense look you were receiving from Otto; Alicent too was looking at you rather crossly, but not to the extent that her father was giving.

Daemon was first to approach, "Your Grace," he greets with a light bow.

Viserys said nothing, but turned his gaze to you, or more specifically to Aemma, "so it is true," the king speaks, "you fathered a child with my daughter's bard."

"You sound surprised," Daemon notices.

"Not at all," Viserys refutes, seemingly out of contempt, "I had only hoped that if the day came that you were to bring your offspring to court, it would've been with your lady wife and not some..." he looks at you, slowly recanting what he was about to say, "paramour."  

Daemon scoffed a little at that, "I'm not even sure a child could grow in such hostile environs." "Have you ever even tried?" Viserys glares at his brother before turning you, "you, step forward."

You were hesitant to do as he said. "The king has given you a command," Otto states with authority and rather impatiently. "Yes, I heard him!" you snap, before recanting, "I mean, of course, your Grace. I will do just that at once."

You take a few steps forward. Viserys stands up and approaches you. "Let me take a look," he says. You pulls the shawl back a bit so the king could take a good look at his niece. "The resemblance is uncanny," Viserys states, "it would be impossible to refute. Has she been given a name?"

"...her name is Aemma, your Grace," you say. Viserys' eyes widen at this, and some of the lords exchange looks as well.

"You named her after the late Queen?" "I may not have known her as well as you have," you tell him, "but her death, the way it was carried out, I must admit, left a considerable impact on me. I thought by naming my daughter thus, it would keep her memory alive."

No one had noticed, but Rhaenyra felt a tear about to slip out, but she fought it back and kept her composure.

Viserys too was internally moved by this, the guilt of losing his wife slowly coming back, but as king he too had to keep his semi-stoic composure for the sake of his image.    

Alicent approaches, standing by the king's side "It is a good name," she states, "a good name for a strong girl, especially one who's been through so much already before she was even born. The both of you in fact."

You look up expectedly at the king, "Ah yes, we all heard what happened shortly thereafter," he explains, "I can't imagine what it must have felt, being abducted against your will and forced on by a horde of lecherous sell swords. Whatever could the likes of them want with a woman with child?"

"Clearly, brother, they meant to turn my child into one of them," Daemon speaks up.

"Well then," Corlys speaks up, "we can thank the gods that the prince has brought the Lady (y/n) and her daughter back safely."

Ciri's eyes widen by this. She knew this was all a lie, that you weren't taken against your will, and the witchers certainly never forced themselves on you. Especially not Geralt, who had cared for both you and Aemma since you came to the witchers' keep all those months ago. She wanted to refute it, tell the entire council that none of those things was true, but she also knew if did, then the king and council would accuse you of lying just to gain sympathy.

So the girl had no choice but to keep her mouth shut.

"Brought back safely indeed," Otto scoffs, "that is if she even was taken against her will at all." "You dare question the integrity of Lady (y/n)'s account?" Daemon glares at the Hand. "The lady has yet to even give account at all," Otto points out.

Viserys turned to you, "what say you?" he asks, "is what my brother said about your sudden departure true?"

You look down, not wanting to lie, but knowing telling the truth would only ostracize Aemma even more so then she could possibly be, "I was taken to Kaer Morhen when Aemma was maybe five months growing in my womb," you say, "I...I remained there for the remainder of my pregnancy and after I gave birth to her. There was a sorceress there who helped me during my labors and the witchers, they....they..."

You feel the tears well up, threatening to spill, not from having to lie, but also from the fact that you were taken indeed taken against your will, just not by Geralt and his brethren.

You start to sniffle thinking about it.

"Do you believe her now," Daemon steps up, placing a comforting hand on your back, "she is clearly in distress from this whole ordeal, there is no need to put her through it any further."

"Even if this account is indeed true, how are we to know of the true father of the child that lays in her arms," Otto scoffs, "For all we know, she may not have even been with child when she was taken, and one of those...butchers could've planted their seed inside her and the child is a product of their vile acts."

"That is not likely, Lord Hand," you wipe your tears away, glaring at Otto whom you knew was well aware that Aemma is Daemon's child, "it is known on the Continent that witchers are sterile. The mutagenic alchemy that was used to create them has also taken away their ability to produce children."

"I can corroborate on such facts, your Grace," Maester Mellos interjects, "some of my followers have traveled to the Continent prior to studying in the Citadel. There are dozens of accounts on these so called witchers that span for nearly centuries. It appears there has never been one that was born, but were created by rather dark and unnatural magics. Deadly as well, as very few have appeared to survive the process."

"I've heard those tales as well during my travels to the Skellige isles," Corlys adds, "three out of ten boys, it is said. And all unable to produce offspring of their own afterwards."

"Well then, by all accounts, it would appear (y/n) and my brother have spoken the truth" Viserys speaks, "now, if there are no further disputes over my...niece's parentage, I see no reason why she and her mother should not stay here and be cared for." 

Rhaenyra approached you and the king, "I wish to meet my cousin," she announces. Viserys nods and stands aside to allow the princess to meet Aemma. Alicent gave Rhaenyra a small smile, but it seemed to only be answered by a cold shoulder on Rhaenyra's part.

"May I?" the princess asks. You lower the shawl again so she could meet Aemma.

"The blood of the dragon does indeed run in her veins," the princess states, "it's a shame she was born under such cruel circumstances."

"It's not true!" Ciri blurts out, unable to stand the lies anymore, and getting everyone's attention, "none of this is true. (y/n) was taken against her will, but not by the witchers. She was taken here by this man," she points an accusing finger at Daemon.

"Who is this girl?" Viserys asks. "Her name is Ciri, your Grace," you answer, "she's...my ward. I-" "I found the girl at the keep of the witchers," Daemon explains, "she had been staying there for some time before (y/n) was brought there. It didn't seem...right to leave her there alone."

"Sounds to me the poor girl has been through worse then what the lady troubadour has," Lyonel states.

"Those deviants," Mellos says, "they truly know no morals or character."

"No, that's not true! They're good people!" Ciri insists, "if it weren't for the White Wolf, I would've perished in Cintra or have been captured by the armies of Nilfgaard!"

Now that got the attention of everyone in the room.

Rhaenyra broke the silence when she approached Ciri, "and what would Nilfgaard want with you?" she asks.

Ciri knew the barrel of ale has been opened right now; there was no closing it at this point.

"I'm not just some girl," Ciri states, briefly glaring at Daemon before continuing,

"I'm...I am princess Cirilla of Cintra. And I am here because I had sworn to protect Aemma at all costs."

Chapter 14

[minnielvrr]

Ler Hyunjin thoughts~

A/N: I'm really sorry if this is crap, I'm having writers block rn and I just can't seem to write as much as I want to 😖😭

Hyunjin sneaking these nail extensions as well as the ones everyone else wore for their concept pictures back to the dorm. He'd easily get Felix and Han to join in.... for a slightly different role.

Back in their dorm, Hyunjin would instruct them to lay on the bed, tying the sunshine twins' arms up and for a little bit of spice, blindfolding them.

The two would giggle and squirm in anticipation when Hyunjin would drum the nails on the bedside table, the sound of metal striking wood echoing through the silent room.

"I'll only let you two go once both of you correctly guesses whose nails I'm using. If one you gets it wrong or you don't know, I will tickle that person for 15 seconds on a spot of the winner's choosing. Sound fair?" Hums of agreement followed making him grin.

This was going to be fun.

He sat down between the two, and used Seungmin's nails first on their bellies, watching as the two flinched at the sensation of the cold metal touching their skin, Hannie's giddy laughs blending beautifully with Lixie's deep giggles.

"Mihihinie! Thehese are Seungmihin's nails!" Han giggled out and Hyunjin gazed in amusement at the look of horror on Lixie's face, the little fairy staring pleadingly in Han's direction as if the other could see him.

"Get his sides!" The quokka chirped with an evil grin and Hyunjin's clawed nails were on the spot in an instant. "Noo-AH! Hyuhuhune nohohohohoo!" Poor Lix twisted and turned but wherever he went, Hyunjin's nails would follow until the timer on his phone indicated the 15 second mark.

Felix slumped on to the mattress, chest heaving for breath as the two giggled fondly at him. Round two followed with Minho's nails on their armpits, the strange structure tickling them immensely but also easily giving it away.

The two giggled their pretty heads off under Hyunjin's fingers, loving every second of the game. This time Felix managed to answer just milliseconds before Han and he cheered loudly at the groan the other let out. "Jinnie, he loves being ti-tickled on his tummy!" He ratted out eagerly.

That only made Hyunjin smile fondly. "Is that so? Do you really just like this Hannie?" He teased as he dragged his nails up and down Hannie's abs. Han only threw his head back and laughed and laughed, voice turning hysteric when Hyunjin dipped one nail in his navel.

This game continued in a sort of back and forth, drawing screeches and howls of laughter when it was his and Chan's nails. They were both sharp and pointed, allowing the artist to skitter them up and down the duo's feet as they struggled, thoroughly enjoying their happy sounds.

The sunshine twins were left with bright red faces, their tears dampening the blindfolds. "Had fun?" Hyunjin asked smugly as he untied the two, both of them nodding bashfully.