#can we make working from home the norm...

[ionomycin]

[hueseok]

it was always you.

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

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

or at least, that’s what you think.

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 13.2k

rating: 18+

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

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

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

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

“Any questions?”

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

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

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

More than half of the class raises their hands.

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

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

“Thank you so much, Ms. ____!”

“I love you, Ms. ____!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He grins. “Hey, lamb chop.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Is that how you greet an old friend?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

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

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

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

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

“Wow. Two weeks, huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You didn’t?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You pressed.

“He meant well, ____.”

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

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

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

You wince.

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

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

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

“Well, it should—because I’m fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“An apology?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I can make space for you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t be a pain in the ass.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

“Fine.” You deadpan.

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

“Okay.”

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re right.” Jungkook shrugged.

“You’ll do it then?”

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

“Even as crazy as marrying her?”

“Sure.”

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

“I don’t like her.” 

“You’re in love with her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me?”

“Yes.”

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

“That can work.”

“What?” Jungkook laughed.

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook pressed his lips together to stifle a chuckle.

“Noted.”

****

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

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

“Are you dating anyone?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Precisely.”

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

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

 You bob. “Does it get lonely?”

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

“You’ve always been an adrenaline junkie.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hell no.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s no need, Kook.”

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

So, you allow him.

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

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

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

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

“Agreed.”

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

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

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

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

“Promise me you won’t get mad first.”

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

“It’s not as bad as you think.”

“That’s not convincing at all.”

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

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

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

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

“I can’t promise that either.”

“You have to.”

“Why do I have to?”

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

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

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

“Misunderstand what?”

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

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

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

“You should be.” You grumble.

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

“What?” You hiss.

He swallows hard.

“I want you to marry me, ____.”

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

****

Jungkook was your first kiss.

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

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

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

You blushed.

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

5 minutes in, Jungkook turned towards you.

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

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

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

Your cheeks burned. “Oh.”

“So, it’s not true?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” you told him.

“Huh?”

“You can kiss me.”

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

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

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

“It is?” Hope sparked within you.

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

You cackled. “Deal.”

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

****

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

“What’s up?”

“I will fucking murder you,” you snarl.

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

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

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

“Are you hearing yourself right now?”

“Did you even let Jungkook explain?”

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

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

“Marrying him won’t be good for me.”

“Why not?”

“It just won’t!”

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

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

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

“It’s a sham marriage!”

“It’s a sham marriage with Jungkook.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hang up and glance at the door.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook: oof that’s harsh

You: sorry not sorry?

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook: 🤣🤣🤣

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah.” You nod in understanding.

You two continue walking forward.

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

“Dinner?” he asks, right on schedule.

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

“Busy day?”

“Yep.”

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

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

“Why not?”

“Because marriage doesn’t work that way.”

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

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

“The assurance you’re taken care of.”

“That’s cheesy.”

You share a laugh and he grins.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Glucometer.”

He halts. “What does that look like?”

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

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

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

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

“Let me do it,” he says.

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

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

Another sigh. “Better.”

“Does this happen a lot?”

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

“____—”

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

Defeated, he nods. “Alright.”

“Thank you.”

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

Before you can protest, he closes the door.

****

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, but it might be heavy.”

“It’s not.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

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

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

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

“Four months, I think.”

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

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

“You must really like him then.”

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

“Does he treat you well?”

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

“What’s with it?”

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

Fuck, thank God, he thought.

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

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

“But I’m not your brother.”

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

“Nonsense. Seowon likes him.”

“Oh, so you don’t?”

He pressed his lips into a tight line.

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

“I didn’t say I didn’t like him.”

“Instead you implied it.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You kinda did.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He might not like it. You’ll see.”

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

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

****

“Not so fast,” Jungkook grunts.

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

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

“Jungkook—”

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

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

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

“That’s not the issue.”

“Then what is?”

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

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

“I’m not willing to take the risk.”

“I’m not willing to see you die.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You just don’t get it, don’t you?”

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

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

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

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

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

“That won’t make me feel better.”

“Then what will?”

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

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

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

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

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

“For one, I grew up.”

“Ouch.”

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

That piques his interest. “Anything.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grin. “I’m sorry.”

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

“Why didn’t you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Never?”

“Never.”

“I’m going to take you up on that.”

“Please do.”

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

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

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

A boyish grin erupts on his features.

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

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

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

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

“At least let me sleep on it, Kook.”

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

****

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

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

“Kook, I’m fucking sweaty.”

“I don’t care.”

You laugh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course.” You kiss him too.

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

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

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

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

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

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

Jungkook unwillingly places you down.

“I think I need to go,” you say.

He nods with a sigh. “I’ll miss you.”

“I��ll miss you too.”

“Call you tomorrow?”

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

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

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

“I will kill him,” you tell Jungkook.

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

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

“You,” he answers without missing a beat.

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” you ask.

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

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

“Want what?”

“Me and Jungkook to be together.”

“When on earth did I say that?”

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

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

“We’re not—”

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

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

“Wait, so the two of you have?”

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

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

You share a laugh and then silence fills the car.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You: look how cute we look 🥹

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

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

gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡

[vadlings]

Represention of Autistic Frustration in Laios Dungeon Meshi

Like many other autistic people, I related strongly to Laios Touden while reading Dungeon Meshi. This post isn't going to spend time disputing whether he displays autistic traits or not—while I could do that, I want to focus on why specifically his portrayal struck a chord with me in a way the writing of most other autistic-coded characters has not.

Disclaimer: as the above suggests, this post is strongly informed by my own experiences as an autistic person, as well as the experiences of my neurodivergent friends with whom I have spoken about this subject. I want to clarify that in no way am I asserting my personal experience to be some Universal Autistic Experience. This post is about why Laios' character feels distinct and significant to me in regard to autistic representation, and while I'm at it, I do feel that I have interesting things to say about autistic representation in media generally. This also got a bit long, so I'm sticking it under a read more. Spoilers for up to the end of chapter 88 below.

The thing that stands out most to me in regard to Laios' characterisation is the open anger he displays when someone points out his inability to read other people. This comes up prominently in his interactions with "Shuro" (Toshiro Nakamoto):

The frustration pictured above (Laios continuing to physically tussle with Toshiro, using crude language toward him) becomes even more notable when you remember that this is Laios, who, outside of these interactions, is not easily fazed and often exists as a lighthearted contrast to the rest of the cast. Then we get to Laios' nightmare.

In Falin's words: "Nightmares love emotional wounds. Wounds you hold in your heart. Things that give you stress, or things that were traumatic for you. They aggravate memories like that and cause the dreamer to have terrible dreams." (chapter 42, page 10.) (damn. i'm properly citing for this post and everything.)

Thus, Laios' nightmare establishes an important fact: even if he is unable to recognise social blunders while he's making them, he's at least subconsciously aware that other people operate on a different wavelength to him, and that he's an outsider in many of his social circles (both past and present). His dream-father's disparaging words stress the impact this has had upon his ability to live up to the expectations set out for him, and we also get a panel of kids who smirk at him (presumably former bullies to some degree). Toshiro's appearance only hammers home how much Laios is still both humiliated and angered by his misunderstanding of their relationship.

I've thought a lot about anger as concomitant to the autistic experience. When autistic representation portrays ostracization, it's generally from an angle of the autistic character being upset at how conforming to neurotypical norms doesn't come easily to them; as a result, they express a desire to 'get better' at meeting neurotypical standards, a desire to become more 'normal' (whether the writing implies this is a good thing or not). In contrast, not once does Laios go, "I need to perform better in my social interactions, and try to care less about monsters, because that's what other people find weird." His frustration is directed outward rather than inward, and as a result, it's the people around him who are framed as nonsensical.

The Winged Lion starts delineating Laios' anger, and Laios' reaction is to think to himself, "It can sense all my thoughts, huh?" (chapter 88, page 16.) This is the scene that really resonated with me. I'm not saying I have never felt the desire to conform to neurotypical norms that is borne from insecurity, but primarily, I know that I don't want to work toward becoming 'normal'—I don't want to change myself for people who follow rules I find nonsensical. It's the difference between, "Oh god, why can't I get it," and, "WHY CAN'T YOU GET IT?" (phrasing here courtesy of my friend Miles @dogwoodbite). And for me personally, Dungeon Meshi is the first time I've seen this frustration and the resultant voluntary isolation from other people portrayed in media so candidly. Laios' anger is not downplayed or written to be easily palatable, either.

The culmination of Laios' frustrations in this scene wherein we learn that Laios has fantasised about "a pack of monsters attacking a village" drives home just how alienated he really feels. I need not go into his wish to become a monster himself, redolent of how many autistic people identify/have identified with non-humans to some degree as a result of a percieved disconnect from society (when I was younger, I wanted to be a robot. I still kind of do.)

Obviously, wishing death upon other people is a weighty thing, but the unfiltered nature of this page is what deeply resonated with me. The Winged Lion is laying Laios' deepest and most transgressive desires bare, and they are desires that are a product of lifelong ostracization by others (whether intentional or unintentional). This is the brand of anger I'm familiar with, and that my neurodivergent friends express being familiar with, but that I haven't seen portrayed in writing so explicitly before—in fact, it surprised me because most well-meaning autistic representation I've experienced veers toward infantilisation in trying make the autistic character's struggles easy for neurotypicals to sympathise with.

Let's also not neglect the symbolism inherent to Laios' daydream. "A pack of monsters attacking a village". Functionally, monsters are Laios' special interest—he percieves everything first and foremost through his passion for monsters. His daydream of monsters attacking—killing—humans, is fundamentally a daydream of the world he understands (monsters) overthrowing the world that is so illogical to him, that has repeatedly shunned him (other people). I joked to my friends that it's an autistic power fantasy, and it actually sort of is. And in it, his identity is aligned with that of the monsters, while his anger manifests in a palpable dissociation from the rest of humanity. This is one manga page. It's brief. It's also very, very raw to me. I think about it often.

To conclude, I love Laios Dungeon Meshi. This portrayal of open frustration in an autistic character meant a lot to me, and I hope I've sufficiently outlined why. Also, feel free to recommend media with autistic representation in the notes if you've read this far—I would really like to see if there is more of this nature. Thank you for reading. I'm very tired and should probably sleep now.

[chronicbitchsyndrome]

so... i'm seeing a lot of activism (like, actual activism, not just tumblr posts--letters & scripts to us senators, for example, copy written for press, etc) focusing on improving ventilation & filtration as primarily an access issue for immunocompromised people. basically, presenting the argument as "this is in service of this demographic, who is blocked from public access currently."

this is like. true. of course. it is the main reason i want clean air and i think it is the most pressing reason overall for it. but i think it's the wrong tack for building a clean air movement and getting legislation passed.

like, unfortunately, the vast majority of people in power--and of americans in general, tbh--are not immunocompromised and do not have immunocompromised roommates or family members. should you have to have this experience to understand that public access is a big fucking deal for, like, staying alive? no! you shouldn't! but most people straight up will not understand whatsoever unless they have personal experience with immune compromisation.

trying to change hearts and minds to have cognitive sympathy for disabled people takes a long time, decades' worth of work to just change a handful of people; meanwhile, getting legislation passed is 1) imminently important, 2) while still a lengthy process, takes significantly less time if it doesn't hinge on first converting the majority of the population to have sympathy for a marginalized demographic they have no contact with (and yes, they have no contact with us because we are barred from public access to begin with, again, i am aware of how fucked up this is).

here's some arguments for passing clean air legislation that are designed to appeal to a normative, conservative-leaning crowd:

air filtration is a public health and sanitation baseline just like running water. we provide clean water to drink and wash our hands in as a baseline for public life; we should also be providing clean air to breathe similarly.

improved ventilation and filtration in schools results in less sick days for students, meaning better attendance and less time off work for parents.

improved ventilation and filtration in the workplace results in workers taking less sick days. it also makes it less troublesome when a coworker comes in sick; it's less likely you will have to take sick leave as a result.

improved ventilation and filtration in hospitals, doctors' offices, etc, helps combat the health care worker shortage by reducing the amount of sick leave health care workers need. it additionally makes hospitals safer overall; for example, it makes it safer for cancer patients to be in the same building with patients with highly infectious airborne illnesses such as chickenpox.

improved ventilation and filtration in public buildings at large could improve the economy, as less workers stay home, more people enter the workforce, more people begin attending public businesses like bars and venues, etc.

if government programs to upgrade ventilation and filtration are created, this could create jobs for blue-collar workers, further improving the economy.

the last note i have is that, as much as this sucks shit, don't mention covid as much as you can avoid it. covid has become a massive culture war thing in the usa and as soon as you bring it up, the entire discussion becomes about virtue-signaling and showing in-group affinity--it doesn't matter what you're saying about covid, anyone who thinks "covid is over" will immediately shut down and become incapable of listening to anything else you have to say. and unfortunately, a majority of the population does, in fact, think covid is an irrelevant concern even for immunocompromised people in 2024.

importantly, all general air sanitation improvements will improve the covid situation significantly. in this context, you do not have to talk about covid in order to make real, material changes limiting the spread of covid. system-level changes that limit the spread of things like the flu and chickenpox are equally effective in limiting the spread of covid. take advantage of that!

[hyperlexichypatia]

As I keep shouting into the void, pathologizers love shifting discussion about material conditions into discussion about emotional states.

I rant approximately once a week about how the brain maturity myth transmuted “Young adults are too poor to move out of their parents’ homes or have children of their own” into “Young adults are too emotionally and neurologically immature to move out of their parents’ homes or have children of their own.”

I’ve also talked about the misuse of “enabling” and “trauma” and “dopamine” .

And this is a pattern – people coin terms and concepts to describe material problems, and pathologization culture shifts them to be about problems in the brain or psyche of the person experiencing them. Now we’re talking about neurochemicals, frontal lobes, and self-esteem instead of talking about wages, wealth distribution, and civil rights. Now we can say that poor, oppressed, and exploited people are suffering from a neurological/emotional defect that makes them not know what’s best for themselves, so they don’t need or deserve rights or money.

Here are some terms that have been so horribly misused by mental health culture that we’ve almost entirely forgotten that they were originally materialist critiques.

Codependency What it originally referred to: A non-addicted person being overly “helpful” to an addicted partner or relative, often out of financial desperation. For example: Making sure your alcoholic husband gets to work in the morning (even though he’s an adult who should be responsible for himself) because if he loses his job, you’ll lose your home. https://www.nytimes.com/2022/07/08/opinion/codependency-addiction-recovery.html What it’s been distorted into: Being “clingy,” being “too emotionally needy,” wanting things like affection and quality time from a partner. A way of pathologizing people, especially young women, for wanting things like love and commitment in a romantic relationship.

Compulsory Heterosexuality What it originally referred to: In the 1980 in essay "Compulsory Heterosexuality and Lesbian Existence," https://www.journals.uchicago.edu/doi/abs/10.1086/493756 Adrienne Rich described compulsory heterosexuality as a set of social conditions that coerce women into heterosexual relationships and prioritize those relationships over relationships between women (both romantic and platonic). She also defines “lesbian” much more broadly than current discourse does, encompassing a wide variety of romantic and platonic relationships between women. While she does suggest that women who identify as heterosexual might be doing so out of unquestioned social norms, this is not the primary point she’s making. What it’s been distorted into: The patronizing, biphobic idea that lesbians somehow falsely believe themselves to be attracted to men. Part of the overall “Women don’t really know what they want or what’s good for them” theme of contemporary discourse.

Emotional Labor What it originally referred to: The implicit or explicit requirement that workers (especially women workers, especially workers in female-dominated “pink collar” jobs, especially tipped workers) perform emotional intimacy with customers, coworkers, and bosses above and beyond the actual job being done. Having to smile, be “friendly,” flirt, give the impression of genuine caring, politely accept harassment, etc. https://weld.la.psu.edu/what-is-emotional-labor/ What it’s been distorted into: Everything under the sun. Everything from housework (which we already had a term for), to tolerating the existence of disabled people, to just caring about friends the way friends do. The original intent of the concept was “It’s unreasonable to expect your waitress to care about your problems, because she’s not really your friend,” not “It’s unreasonable to expect your actual friends to care about your problems unless you pay them, because that’s emotional labor,” and certainly not “Disabled people shouldn’t be allowed to be visibly disabled in public, because witnessing a disabled person is emotional labor.” Anything that causes a person emotional distress, even if that emotional distress is rooted in the distress-haver’s bigotry (Many nominally progressive people who would rightfully reject the bigoted logic of “Seeing gay or interracial couples upsets me, which is emotional labor, so they shouldn’t be allowed to exist in public” fully accept the bigoted logic of “Seeing disabled or poor people upsets me, which is emotional labor, so they shouldn’t be allowed to exist in public”).

Battered Wife Syndrome What it originally referred to: The all-encompassing trauma and fear of escalating violence experienced by people suffering ongoing domestic abuse, sometimes resulting in the abuse victim using necessary violence in self-defense. Because domestic abuse often escalates, often to murder, this fear is entirely rational and justified. This is the reasonable, justified belief that someone who beats you, stalks you, and threatens to kill you may actually kill you.

What it’s been distorted into: Like so many of these other items, the idea that women (in this case, women who are victims of domestic violence) don’t know what’s best for themselves. I debated including this one, because “syndrome” was a wrongful framing from the beginning – a justified and rational fear of escalating violence in a situation in which escalating violence is occurring is not a “syndrome.” But the original meaning at least partially acknowledged the material conditions of escalating violence.

I’m not saying the original meanings of these terms are ones I necessarily agree with – as a cognitive liberty absolutist, I’m unsurprisingly not that enamored of either second-wave feminism or 1970s addiction discourse. And as much as I dislike what “emotional labor” has become, I accept that “Women are unfairly expected to care about other people’s feelings more than men are” is a true statement.

What I am saying is that all of these terms originally, at least partly, took material conditions into account in their usage. Subsequent usage has entirely stripped the materialist critique and fully replaced it with emotional pathologization, specifically of women. Acknowledgement that women have their choices constrained by poverty, violence, and oppression has been replaced with the idea that women don’t know what’s best for themselves and need to be coercively “helped” for their own good. Acknowledgement that working-class women experience a gender-and-class-specific form of economic exploitation has been rebranded as yet another variation of “Disabled people are burdensome for wanting to exist.”

Over and over, materialist critiques are reframed as emotional or cognitive defects of marginalized people. The next time you hear a superficially sympathetic (but actually pathologizing) argument for “Marginalized people make bad choices because…” consider stopping and asking: “Wait, who are we to assume that this person’s choices are ‘bad’? And if they are, is there something about their material conditions that constrains their options or makes the ‘bad’ choice the best available option?”

[suiana]

cw: matriarchy, yandere! househusband, fem reader, this is a work of fiction, please don't read further if you're uncomfortable, thanks!

it's the 1950s. men have become the caretakers of the house while women have been tasked with being the breadwinner. the age of revolution, they say! a time period where societal norms have completely flipped. a society where it's a woman's world.

as a woman, you're expected to marry a respectable man. one who knows how to care for the household and love you like a loving man.

thankfully, you've found one. your highschool sweetheart that is just the sweetest thing ever. handsome, tall, and knows his way with tending to homely duties. he even loves you like it's his last day alive!

he's basically society's ideal man. and he's your husband.

but you don't know how to tell him that you want to get a divorce. that you can't keep up with his... oddly obsessive behavior that's suffocating you. how you seem to dread going home, expecting a warm welcome only to get hit by a barrage of accusatory questions of whether you're cheating on him or not.

you love him, you do. but your husband has changed for the worse ever since you two got married a few months ago. perhaps a few weeks after your honeymoon. you know how people are, questioning why there's still no child even after a few months of marriage.

and it's not that you two are infertile. you're just not ready for one yet. you've explained it to him, you want to focus in your career first. your husband should understand that, shouldn't he? he's a man after all.

yet it seems that he thinks otherwise. constantly doing it, asking whether you're seeing others, whether you really love him or not...

it's annoying. and frankly, you've had enough.

you know, you know. men are emotional creatures. they get anxious and angry easily. they just can't help it! it's in their nature after all. but still... if he could just be a little more understanding... a little less... paranoid...

"a d-divorce?"

he gasps, taking a wary step back as he drops the stack of papers to the floor. his eyes are wide, body frozen to the ground. horrified, you could see it in his eyes.

"but honey... we're so happy, aren't we? you love me, don't you?"

you let out a sigh, pinching your nose bridge at his words. yes... yes you do love him. and you still do, you think. but how can you stand a single more day of him acting like you're going out cheating when really, you're working your back off so you can spoil your darling husband?

"I'm just not satisfied with how you're behaving."

you suppose that will work. how will he ever resist a woman's word? not in this era, clearly.

you watch as your husband stares at you, face pale as he brings his hands to his face, murmuring words of despair while he shakes his head.

no, no, no.

this couldn't be happening.

he thought you two were perfect together! what changed?! you love him, don't you? you still come home to him everyday, give him a peck as you walk through those doors! everything was fine! everything is fine!

no, you must've been brainwashed by someone else.

by some... some other manwhore. a good for nothing man who didn't get a proper education, surely!

that's the only other explanation. you must've been seduced! after all, you're a good woman. you could never do any wrong. not in the eyes of the law, not by society, and definitely not in his eyes.

because you're his wife. his beloved wife. you're a good breadwinner, you work hard, you bring him out on dates, you don't abuse him like other wives do...

and in return, he's the perfect husband! he cooks the best food, doesn't he?! all hot and delicious! you said so yourself! he dresses how you like, works out, keeps the house neat and tidy for you, does groceries and makes sure that everything is perfect!

sure, he's a little bit on the protective and anxious side... but can you blame him? you're gorgeous! he's worried you'll be stolen from him while you work! by- by those good for nothing guys that think they should be independent. who do they think they are, working in public when they should be someone's husband? spewing those gender equality crap that you have been talking about too? you've been poisoned. surely.

and the fact that he's not able to provide a child yet? of course he's going to be anxious and overthink! can you blame him? he's just a man!

"please... please don't leave. I'll do anything. anything! you can't leave me! I'll die without you!"

he feels his heart race, sweat lining the skin of his forehead. he's hyperventilating now. can't take the fact that you actually want to leave him.

it's not real.

It's not real.

It's not real.

and yet, the way that you're looking at him is proving him otherwise.

"but you can't leave me! we've been together since high school!"

he tries to plead with you. but you're stone-faced and look like you're not looking to negotiate. his palms grow clammy as he desperately racks his brain for words.

"I'll change! I'll stop... stop asking whether you're cheating on me- you're not, right? you wouldn't cheat on me! i know you wouldn't! you're just misguided!"

then you let out a soft sigh and he feels the last of his restraint snap.

"no! you can't leave me!"

in a second, he's on you, pinning you to the ground. all rationality has left his body but can you blame him? he's just a man. men get emotional easily. that's why it's better for them to stay at home, away from politics where they could easily cause millions of death over a small dispute. at home, where they belong.

"I'm yours! forever and now! you can't just... just throw me away! we took vows! you can't break them!"

fat tears roll down his cheeks, his hands pinning your wrists to the ground. despite the fact that they're more emotional, men have always been stronger. isn't that why they had to go school to be taught how to control their violence? to not raise a hand at anyone no matter how emotional they get?

"I'm your husband! i would never leave you! you can't just leave me too!"

then something in the air shifts and he sniffles softly, gripping your wrists tightly. for the first time in your life, you feel fear. fear for your own life. fear that your darling husband inflicted on you.

"you're not leaving me."

...

"hey have you heard? apparently y/n hasn't been coming into the office lately... I'm worried for her."

"yeah... and i heard that her husband is visiting some rural area for a short getaway. my husband told me."

"i hope she's alright... she should go find him soon. how will her husband ever survive on his own? what if he gets ill?"

and accompany him you will.

for now, no one will ever bother you two ever again. man or woman, society and law alike. just two sould, far from everyone else. as it should be.

as it will always be.

[eraserbread]

older married!satosugu never really tried to shove their relationship down your throat, but they didn’t try to hide it either.

a kiss here and there is the norm they placed upon you. sometimes, when gojo’s hand is around suguru’s thigh, it erupts your stomach in butterflies. you love how they love each other, but more so how they love you.

and, you weren't crazy... satoru said to be at their house by 8 -- it's well past that, now. and you were alone, standing in their entryway with his text conversation lighting your face in the darkness.

you reach to flick the lights on, tossing your shoes off and making yourself at home in the emptiness. their car was in the driveway, satoru’s location says he’s here. and, once you check, you see suguru’s here, too.

“hello? here i am…!”

you walk deeper into the house, trailing the tips of your fingers across the teal painted walls you move past.

“suguru? satoru?” you glance into the kitchen and see nothing. you can’t help but sigh. you really were excited to see them this time.

but, if they aren’t on the first floor. they had to be upstairs. this silence was almost uncanny.

“sugu?” just for good measure, you try again.

“sat-

your complexion turns two shades redder when you hear it. it.

satoru and suguru. breathless. moaning. curses of love and angst giving the atmosphere a much heavier feel. you can’t believe it’s finally happening. three months together and you haven’t seen them do more than kiss each other goodbye.

you were�� excited. as taboo as that felt to admit.

so, you don’t bother them yet. you walk to their slightly cracked bedroom door, cracking it just a bit more to see if they’d notice. nothing.

of course they wouldn’t fucking notice — satoru has suguru splayed out under him, chest pressed to the mattress. with every single inch of his rubbered cock buried inside of his husband.

“when you look at me like that…” gojo whispers so tenderly, tucking hair away from the side of suguru’s face. “reminds me why i married you.”

“is this… all you t-think about?” suguru responds, pretty eyes rolling back into his skull. you can’t help but take him in — the sweat on his back, the strain of his legs and his hair everywhere. with his familiar body flushed red, he’s fisting the pillow, moaning strings of satoru’s first name into the cushion.

satoru’s strong hand cups under suguru’s right knee, keeping it at a right angle. it’s how they accommodate enough room for satoru to fit snugly against him. they’re both just so tall, with their combined length, they’d be hanging off the bed.

“about how beautiful you are? yeah.” satoru takes a fistful of satoru’s hair, yanking his neck bared and completely ready for his lips and teeth. they’re both so tender, tangled between the sheets. it’s hard to interrupt.

but, fuck it. they called you here, so they had to be in on this, too.

“thanks for the show.” you pose in the doorway, pointer finger hanging from your mouth. it’s cocky as hell, and you don’t think you’ll hear the end of it. “i mean, bravo.”

they don’t jump in horror like you expected them to. satoru just peeks over his shoulder, through his sexed hair and laughs.

“hi, honey bunny.”

the second geto heard your voice, he was pushing satoru away, but he wouldn’t budge. it’s hard enough just for him to sit up and turn around to greet you. but, of course when he does, it’s with an innocent smile on his flushed face.

god, help you.

“we definitely remember you saying you were stopping by…” suguru tries to fix his hair, but he’d need a shower and lots of time. satoru loved pulling hair. “he jumped my bones, baby. i’m so sorry.” he shakes his head, but you know he wants to laugh. can see it in his eyes when he looks at you.

“-didn’t jump your bones…” gojo mumbles callously, sliding out of bed and slipping his abandoned work pants back on. the loose belt still hangs from the loops, zipper open giving you just the perfect peek at his thin patch of ivory white hair — the dribble of sweat peeking through the waves of his muscles. you stare dumbly.

you’re whipped.

“depends on what look you gave him…”

satoru’s approaching you like a lion to its prey. pushing you back into the door, still you continue. “if it’s the one i think it is, i’m on gojo’s side.”

suguru drags his feet to you, smirking softly as he drinks in your words. satoru’s nodding you through it like you’re speaking to him — and you are, in a sort. until, you can’t speak anything else because he’s kissing you. he tastes like suguru — every piece of him. it’s so fucking hot, you close your eyes.

“mm, that’s okay.” geto mumbles out a little laugh, closing his hand across your jaw and steals you away from his husbands kisses.

then, the nights all about you. tangled between the two of them is always enough.

part 1, part 2

[marymary-diva17]

Human wife shenanigans

Having a human mate who is also a dream walker could be special. There is so much to learn about their world and cultures. That was something that many navi had to know right away when they had become mates with the ones who came from the skies.

Y/n “ …….” You are collecting data in the forest, as you are not entirely alone. As your baby son had come as well, refusing to be left at home with any caretakers.

Y/n “ Look over there noaw there are a family, of viper wolves over there.” Noaw had smiled and pointed towards the viper wolves. He even made the viper wolves' growls, which had you laughing. 

Y/n: “ It seems like you have been listening to your father's stories very closely at bedtime or when he has you for the day.”You kissed your son's forehead, making him smile brightly and clap his hands. 

Y/N: “ You are such a cutie pie like your older brother. Now, let's see what else we can get into before your dad comes looking for us.” You soon placed Noaw back down in a safe spot as you started collecting more data and sharing it with him. 

Y/n “ You know, baby boy, I had a day like this many years ago with your Uncle Jake and Uncle Norm with grace. Let's say trouble had found us. Which led me and your uncle Jake to have a run-in with some viper wolves, and soon enough, I met your aunt Neytiri and dad.”

Noaw “ Sempu.” Noaw had also started laughing and speaking gibberish as you soon kissed his forehead. You soon left him there as you climbed the tree to gather the flowers you had seen. Noaw watched you while looking at other things as well. 

Y/n “ got some.” you had been able to grab some flowers. 

???? “ Noaw, there, baby brother. Where is Mom? " Spider had come by to pick up his baby brother. 

Noaw, “Mama. " Soon, he pointed up towards you, and the spider looked up and saw you as you smiled towards him. 

Spider: “Hey, mom.”

Y/N “ Hello, sweetie; I will be down soon. Just get some flowers.”

Spider: “ Cool, but I don’t think Dad will be happy about this, seeing how he has been asking you to take it easy since Noaw was born.”

Y/N: “ Yes, I know, my boy. There's no need to worry; I will be down right away.”

???? “My sons, there you are.” The boys soon turned their heads to the left to see their dad, Tsu’tey, come over. 

Tsu’tey: “ I had a feeling you two will be out here with your mom, speaking of her where she is.” Both boys had become quiet, as none dared to say anything about you in the tree. 

Spider: “ She is collecting some plants and data, Dad. She asked me to watch over Noaw for a while.”

Tsu’tey “ Did she yanwtu.” Tsu’tey soon looked around but couldn’t see you, as he soon looked up to see you in the tree. 

Tsu’tey “Ma y/n, why are you up there.”

Y/n “ The betterment of knowledge and beauty of pandora.” Tsu’tey soon sighed as he looked at you and his sons. As you made your way down the tree, once you were close to the ground, Tsu’tey grabbed your hand and helped you the rest of the way down. 

Tsu’tey: “ I felt you were not going to take it easy fully.”

Y/N: “ I was taking it easy, but now that our Noaw is older, I have decided to do more work.”

Tsu’tey: “There are times when I worry more about you than about our kids.”

Y/n “ My dear husband, I’m just doing what I usually do, even before I become a mother.”

Tsu’tey: “ I shall support you no matter what happens, ma y/n, but you still need to be careful when you participate in these shenanigans.”

Y/n: “ Well, my dear husband, you should have gotten used to shenanigans by now.” You soon kissed Tsu’tey, catching the man off guard as you walked towards your sons. 

Y/n “ Now come on, boys. Let’s get you home while your father follows after and tries to see if we shall do anything human-related.”

Tsu’tey: “ I love you and our kids being humans, and I shall always love that, but there is so much I still need to get used to as well.” You soon laughed with the boys as Tsu’tey soon caught up with you, and they headed home together after gathering everything. No matter how many years go by, your shenanigans will always catch your husband off guard. 

[eva-does-their-best]

Going from "I'm not one of those trans people who do x or y" to "I am so one of those and I should have not judged them and I am glad that I got rid of the normative judgemental attitude I used to have".

Going from "I'm just a lesbian so liking trans men is wrong i don't want to deny their manhood" to "My sexuality is weird and that is fine, I like who I like despite the theoretical implications of it and I am not denying anyone's identity because I like them for who they are and respect them no matter what".

Going from "I'm just a regular binary she/her woman" to "I'm a girl and a woman but my dissociation and life experiences also make me feel impersonal so I can use it/its and I'm not weird for it, i wouldn't even be weird if I had no justification either, I can even use doll pronouns because I like them and they make me feel warm and happy and that is what matters".

Going from "Ok so these are all the labels with their very clear definitions and meanings and everything else is internet quirky stuff" to "I literally would not know how to explain what you are and I won't force you to explain it if you don't want, I don't need to understand it to accept you, you are valid and loved. If you instead want to explain it to me I'll do my best to learn and defend it whenever I can".

Going from "I am so sad, frustrated, angry and in pain because I will never be or look cis" to "I actually don't like the cis normative look, I don't want to cispass, I like trans beauty but specifically I like me beauty, the one where I am still myself but a more me version of myself. The world constantly told me what I should aspire to be and look like and like and I was brainwashed for so long but now I've broken free and am free to fully love myself and everyone else in this world who ever thought they were weird or ugly because my eyes find so much beauty in everything and everyone!"

Going from "Ew furries" to "I don't want to make fun of people who deviate from the norm because that is exactly what happens to me and we should all be together or else we are treating ourselves as exceptions and exceptions are easily revoked, I will learn to love everyone against a brain poisoned with conservativism and "normality". I like rats I should make a rat fursona or smth it would be so cute it'd so represent me :3".

Going from "I am useless, lazy, falling behind, a disappointment" to "I am physically and mentally disabled, there have never been accomodations for me in any aspect of my life and the intersectionalities of gender, sexuality, economical situation, etc. have made my life extremely difficult, I forgive myself for both failing and for blaming myself, I will seek help and advocate for myself to the best of my abilities and I will respect my limits in this world that was not made for people like me".

Learning is hard, changing is scary, but it's mostly just your brain being a conservative for the sake of commodity, safety and self-preservation, sometimes you need to fight your brain in a war of attrition but when you finally win you'll be so much happier.

I am so much happier now, my world is bigger and brighter and I see everyone and everything with a new, beautiful light. I look back on how I was and how I thought and how the world works and it all looks so much worse and grey, I am not going back there, this new mind is my home now.

And the best part is that I know I will keep learning more and changing more and the world and this life will keep getting better and better🥰.

[atlaculture]

I love reading your posts! They're very informative.

I don't know if you've answered this yet, but what sort of eating utensils would they use in each of the four nations and what would their dishes be made of?

Cultural Practices: Food Utensils - Water Tribe

Within ATLA, we're shown that the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom meals are eaten with chopsticks while traditional Water Tribe feasts are eaten with your hands. We never see a proper Air Nomad meal depicted in the original series, but Korra shows that Air Temple Island meals use chopsticks so I'm assuming that's a long-held tradition within Aang's culture. We also see spoons used for Water Tribe and Earth Kingdom soups/stews so I'm assuming this is probably the norm in their world.

As for what their flatware and dishware would be made from, I'm going to be doing a post for each nation.

For this post, we're covering the Water Tribe. There are a few different materials that flatware and dishware can be made of in the poles: Wood, bone, stone, clay, and ice.

Wood

Cookware and utensils made from driftwood are very common in the Water Tribes. The advantages of wood are that it's readily available, easy to work with, and creates relatively lightweight tools. The drawbacks are that it's less durable and receptive to rot. The Water Tribe's wooden tools come in two different styles: Carved and Bentwood. Carved tools are created through whittling down the wood and bentwood tools are the results of using steam to bend the wood into the desired shape. Since wooden cookware is flammable, stone boiling is the norm; this is when stones are heated and placed directly into a pot of water for boiling or steaming purposes. Pictured above are two examples of Arctic wooden dishware: The tall-rimmed one is a 19th-century Yupik bentwood bowl and the shallower bowl is a 19th-century Yupik carved bowl.

Bone

The second most common material in the Arctic for flatware is bone. As you can imagine, a culture oriented around hunting means their society has a surplus of different animal bones, from walrus tusk ivory to velvety moose antlers. Due to the narrowness of most animal bones, they're typically carved into eating utensils like spoons and chopsticks. While chopsticks aren't traditional to the Water Tribe, they were popularized after the 100-Year War with the invention of seaweed noodles. Walrus ivory flatware also fetches a high price in foreign markets. Pictured above: Handcrafted ivory Inuit spoons.

Stone

Stone is another potential material for cookware and utensils. Unlike wood, it's much more durable and retains heat well, meaning it can be used directly over a fire. The drawbacks are that it's very heavy and difficult to carve into something useful. As such, stone cookware and utensils are rarer than wood & ivory and have a "manly" connotation amongst the Water Tribes. Sokka and Katara eat stewed sea prunes using what appear to be stone bowls and spoons owned by Bato, for example. Stone has also traditionally been used by Inuit peoples to make oil lamps for cooking and heating their homes. The most common stone used would be soapstone, which conducts heat well, although slate would probably be good for plates. Picture above: An Inuit soapstone lamp.

Clay

Compared to the above materials, clay is the rarest type of dishware in the Water Tribes. For one, in the absence of a very skilled waterbender, clay can only be be dug up in the summer, when the snow is low and the ground is soft. Secondly, the ease with which they can crack makes them even more fragile than wood. However, unlike wood, clay cookware can actually be heated directly over a fire. Their ability to cook food with a better texture and richer flavor makes them highly coveted and a bit of a status symbol in the Water Tribe. Pictured above: ~1000 year old Bering Strait clay bowl and ~1700 year old Thule (ancestor to Inuit people) bowl.

Ice

Flatware and dishware made of ice actually has a rather poor reputation within the Water Tribe. Given that ice-based utensils are cold, fragile, and prone to "stickiness" when they make contact with mouths and moist food, it's an understandable reputation. However, their novelty and crystalline appearance makes them very popular with non-Water Tribers. As such, creating elaborate cups and bowls of ice is common hospitality for waterbenders looking to impress guests from other nations. Picture above: An ice bowl.

[raphaellight]

The most fundamentall trait of our protagonist

There is this trait that Marinette exhibits that is crucial to understanding her acions and attitude. I'm not saying noone sees it, actually many people comment around that and probably noone will say they didn't see it, but I can't recall anyone calling it by it's name.

She is an overachiever

And I think it's actually her most important trait, more important than her relationship with Adrien or more recently, her stress of juggling her double life as superhero's leader or her insistence on lying to the world.

She is an overachiever. A kind of person that can't accept taking things easy and not putting maximum possible effort into anything she ever invests. Go big or go home is her attitude. If she imagines something, she will put maximum effort into it.

This ties to, quite literally, everything she engages in.

Her relationship with Adrien? She can't confess for five seasons because she can't accept the though of doing it imperfectly, at the same time can't let it go, because she can't accept the feeling of failure, of giving up.

Her gaming skills? She has to win anytime she plays anything to a point she rarely has the ability to actually enjoy the game.

She has dozens different hobbies and passions, because anything that catches her interest has to be explored to the very end.

Any event she organizes has to be perfect.

Just as she has to be perfect superhero with perfect superhero team has to work perfectly. Thats a defining trait of hers. Is there anything that can't be traced to her need to put everything into it? I don't actually think so.

A person like that will never turn off and relax until someone else points she did everything she could. A person like that won't ever let go of anything. She chose to keep Adrien happy? She will do anything in her power to keep him from ever confronting any negative reality. She forms a superhero team? She does anything in her power for things to run smothly. She is Adrien's girlfriend? She won't miss on any possible way to be perfect for him, give it making sure his friends like her or that he never sees anything wrong with her.

I don't know about you, but for me it's a perfect combination of "relatable" with "personal fantasy". I, as probably many people around, would like to always make sure I did everything in my power to make sure things are how I imagined them. That need it relatable. But it's also a fantasy, because she does it all, while I fumble, put away and procrastinate so much. That's why I, and I believe it will resonate with many people, found her compelling.

But the story also, especially in newer seasons, as much complaining as we can give them, presents the dangers of that attitude really well. It presents how always prioritizing the end goal can make us ignore basic social norms and moral compass, just as how much anxiety this attitude can give us.

That's the fundamentall, core trait of hers. Not her romantic interest, not her creativness, not her clumsiness. Her overachieving nature is the defining trait. And I like how season 6 leans towards it.

[lemonmaid]

I see a lot of hybrid AUs for Task Force 141! And it makes me wonder if we can continue world building for it PLEASSE

Like example, owning a hybrid is now illegal, since most hybrids are acually intelligent enough to acually think for themselves (wow! Amazing!).

Do you think there is a hierarchy based on hybrids?

Like, exotic hybrids (Tigers, Birds, Nagas) have the most respect, like humans were "Yeah! Those guys shouldn't have to have owners to go outside!"

But hybrids like dogs, cats are still treated like "ohhh who's a good puppy!!!"

Then you have bunnies and cow hybrids that have been over-sexualized to the point where there is still derogatory and pressure to still join these industries that push horrible norms.

Anyways, I'm getting carry away. (In all honesty I make this a series because I'm too invested in this world building i made)

IMAGINE

Poly task force x Dog Hybrid! Reader

Imagine just walking in the park with your boyfriends (or mates. Whatever your instinct say) and your new pup (2 months!!).

Imagine just enjoying their company and the sun, since it's the first time you've been out of the house since the hard labor. And some fuck ass old person comes up.

"Aww what adorable puppy you have!! Even more a beautiful breed of dog you have!!" que their fuck ass hand trying to touch your ears.

Simon immediately interfering, doesn't care about this person age, grabbing their arm before entering your personal space.

Price and Kyle immediately ushering you and the pup away, that's enough sunshine for today and social interaction.

Johnny immediately asks how you feel, checking on the pup. (I kinda headcanon that Johnny is like a quarter hybrid, doesn't have the ears or tail but has the intelligence. Like heightened hearing, smell, taste).

Continuous of worlding building, let's say hybrid ownership ended before you were born or John even.

The after-effects are style lingering, because for the most part, your parents will go on to tell you that they were separated from their parents when they were seven to go be lap dogs or even police hybrids. You didn't even meet your own grandparents untill 15 since due to DNA testing, your parents were able to reconnect with their own parents. Resulting in pack scenting and a two week long vist.

Let's say you joined the military due to your parent's background as police dogs, you got that good nose.

You got trained to be a bomb detection unit with alot of other hybrids. That's where you ment Johnny.

In all honesty. You could say working in the military is were no one saw you as a hybrid but as you.

Anyways, again there is alot to explore with this world building.

Johnny introduced you to his "pack-mates". Ghost immediately is smitten by you, having a soft spot for dog hybrids. Kyle, thought you were great company, funny, charismatic, overall an amazing person to be around with. He started carrying snacks for you with the excuse "hybrids need to eat more because of the extra energy they need", nah he just like seeing your eyes lit up when he open a treat bag. Price immediately saw your useful skill set, started making calls to get you on his task force. Made the argument for "inclusivity".

After a missin going wrong, resulting in Johnny and you almost dying. Task force decided to retire together when their contacts were up.

Immediately after buying a home together, Johnny begged you for pup, using the excuse that he had a big family and wants one again.

His special skill set is puppy eyes.

[lilithlounge]

Lilith in the Birth Chart: Where You Refuse to Bow Down

First of all, how is the eclipse energy treating you guys 👀?

Black Moon Lilith represents the raw, unfiltered parts of us that refuse to conform. She is the voice that says no when the world expects submission, the untamed fire of sexuality, defiance, and unclaimed power. In the birth chart, Lilith reveals where we challenge societal expectations, where we are feared or misunderstood, and where we reclaim what was once denied. Uh...let’s break it down by house:

Lilith in the Houses: The Shadow & The Power

1st House: The rebel at first sight. You exude mystery, intensity, and an almost intimidating allure. Others project their fears or desires onto you, often misjudging you before they even know you. You challenge norms by simply existing.

2nd House: Power and defiance are tied to self-worth and material security. You refuse to be owned or controlled, and you challenge traditional ideas of wealth, pleasure, and value. Sensual, yet unwilling to conform to others' expectations of your body and desires.

3rd House: Words are your weapon. You challenge authority through knowledge, communication, or even controversy. You may have been silenced as a child, but as you grow, your voice becomes impossible to ignore.

4th House: The black sheep of the family. You may have grown up feeling like the outsider, or there were hidden truths in your home life. Lilith here is about reclaiming emotional safety on your own terms.

5th House: Unapologetic self-expression. Creativity, romance, and pleasure are areas where you refuse to be tamed. You attract intense lovers who either worship you or fear your power. You love boldly, and that can be both magnetic and intimidating.

6th House: Rebellion in routine. You reject authority in workplaces, challenge outdated systems, and refuse to conform to standard ideas of health and productivity. You work best when you set your own rules.

7th House: Power struggles in relationships. You attract partners who fear your independence or try to control you. You are meant to break free from toxic dynamics and find partnerships that respect your strength.

8th House: Lilith thrives here. This is the dark, seductive, transformative energy that makes others obsessed. You hold deep knowledge of the taboo, sex, death, the occult. People may fear your ability to see through them.

9th House: Defiance through philosophy, religion, and beliefs. You question everything, challenge dogma, and refuse to be told what to think. Freedom is your birthright, and you will fight for it.

10th House: The one they can’t control. You’re a powerhouse in your career, but you might face opposition from authority figures who feel threatened by you. Your reputation is often polarized, people either admire or fear your presence.

11th House: You challenge social norms and redefine what community means. You may feel like an outsider but hold the power to create revolutionary movements. Lilith here means your presence shifts the collective mindset.

12th House: The unseen, mystical, and forbidden. Your Lilith is hidden from the world, manifesting in dreams, subconscious fears, or deep spiritual power. You must reclaim what was buried, intuition, sensuality, and the ability to break free from past-life wounds.

Where’s your Lilith? How does she show up in your life? Book your reading now and let’s talk about it 🖤. Buy Me A Coffee, Ko-fi

[greensagephase]

"Made by Spider-Man himself"

Pairings: Spider-Man!Miguel O'Hara x Female!Reader Summary: After failing to find spider webs for Halloween decorations at the store, your husband surprises you. Word Count: 2.4k Warnings: fluff; established relationship, marriage; Spanish spoken, but translations are provided within text; suggestive comments, so MDNI; terms of endearment; I think that's all; this was just an idea I had the other day and needed to write it🥺 Masterlist

You sigh heavily next to Miguel, your eyes scanning every single spot on the shelves in front of you, hoping to find at least one box.

Next to you, Miguel glances at you. “Why the heavy sigh, mi vida [my life]? What are we looking for?” he asks, turning to the shelves again.

“Some spider webs for Halloween decoration to put on our front windows, but I’m too late.”

“Too late? Baby, it’s still about two weeks before Halloween.”

“I know, but people start buying as soon as the stores put things out, and the norm now is that stores start putting a holiday’s decorations like two months in advance.”

“Which is insane, by the way,” Miguel murmurs, eyes scanning for spider webs. “Are they normal spider-webs, or…?”

You sigh again and pull out your phone to show him a screenshot from some short video that seems to have come up on your feed. The video displays the LED spider webs, attached to the creator’s windows. He nods, realizing there’s nothing like that on the shelves.

“Maybe we can go to another location?” your husband offers.

You smile softly at him but shake your head. “No, mi corazón [my heart]. It would be pointless. I’m certain we won’t find them anywhere. It’s too late at this point. The video popped up last night on my feed, and again, most stores put everything out two months before the holiday, so… I’m sure every single box has been sold at this point.” You shrug and put your phone away. “Maybe next year I’ll have better luck. Do you want to go somewhere else?” you ask, already deciding that next year will be your best bet.

“No, I don’t need to go anywhere else, mi vida [my life]. I just wanted to come with you,” Miguel says as you both begin to head out of the store. He frowns, not failing to notice your little pout. “Are you sure, preciosa [precious]? We can make the drive to another location. It’s no problem.”

You smile again and take your husband’s hand, which has been brushing against yours this entire time, as you head to your car. “I’m sure, mi corazón [my heart]. Let’s just go home, okay? I’m going to make some delicious, cozy, and warm food for us.”

With a smile, Miguel pulls you closer to his side, still walking. “Alright, preciosa [precious]. Let’s go home,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head before he opens the car door for you, always the gentleman.

A few hours later, you’re on the couch with a blanket over you while re-watching one of your favorite autumn shows in the living room. You glance towards Miguel’s workroom, wondering what he’s working on. Earlier, after having dinner and cleaning the kitchen together, Miguel told you he needed to work on something regarding the Spider Society, so you decided to settle in the living room by yourself.

Fixing your position on the couch while the intro of a new episode starts playing, you hear Miguel’s footsteps, signaling that he’s left his workroom.

“Mi vida [my life]?” Miguel says, his footsteps growing closer.

You lift yourself up, smiling just at the sound of your husband’s voice, thinking that maybe he’ll join you now and you can cuddle.

“Baby,” you start, your eyes landing on him, but freezing when you see what’s on his hands. You stare in awe. “Wait…”

Miguel grins as he walks closer to show you, displaying the item in front of you for a better view. “Are these okay, preciosa [precious]?” Miguel asks, still wondering if the amazing and sweet gesture he’s made for you is ‘okay.’

“Miggy, you made spider webs out of your own for me?” you ask softly, in awe. You look up at him as he gently hands the spider net over to you, your heart filled with so much love for Miguel, your sweet husband.

“Cualquier cosa para ti, preciosa [anything for you, precious]. I know it’s not the sam -” Miguel starts while you accept the spider web and carefully place it on the couch before lunging yourself at him, catching him by complete surprise.

“I love you!” you say, throwing your arms around him. “You’re the sweetest! What did I do to deserve you?” you ask, hugging him tightly.

Despite being caught off guard, Miguel’s arms instantly wrap around your body, pulling you closer. He smiles and lifts you up easily, he’s Spider-Man after all. Smiling, he presses his forehead to yours. “I couldn’t stand seeing mi hermosa esposa being disappointed [my gorgeous wife]. That little pout pulled at my heart strings. It always does,” he whispers, leaning in to nuzzle his nose against yours. “When we were having dinner, I remembered I’m Spider-Man and I build things. So, I figured, why not build some spider webs out of my own for my lovely wife?”

Slipping your fingers into Miguel’s dark locks, you nuzzle your own nose against him. “Eres el esposo mas dulce [you’re the sweetest husband]. So kind and loving to me — so much that you entertain my silly shenanigans,” you whisper.

Miguel hums and lift his face just to press a gentle kiss on your forehead. “It’s not silly shenanigans. You have no idea how much I love seeing you getting excited about decorating our home for the holidays.” Miguel pulls you closer before settling on the couch with you attached to him. He smiles and positions you so you’re sitting on his lap comfortably before cupping your face with his large hand. “For so many years, I went on without celebrating anything. It brings me so much joy to see you excited over the decorations and being able to decorate with you. It was a great joy to make these for you, too,” Miguel gently states, brushing his thumb over your cheek.

“You made more than one?” you whisper.

“I made you a few so we can place them all over the front of the house,” Miguel whispers back with a grin. “And the best part? We don’t need any extension cords or batteries.”

You chuckle and give Miguel a kiss on the lips, gentle and sweet. “Thank you, mi corazón [my heart]. You’re truly the sweetest.”

More than content with your reaction, Miguel grins. “Want to go ahead and put them out? I’ll get the ladder and hang them for you. I’d do it without the ladder, but…”

“We don’t need our neighbors to know they live next to Spider-Man,” you finish with a smile.

“Right. It’s our little secret,” Miguel responds, leaning forward to press another gentle kiss to your lips before the two of you collect all the spider webs Miguel made and head outside.

It doesn’t take long for Miguel to place them around the front of your shared home with your assistance, and by the end, your home looks amazing with the spider webs and the other decorations you have out. You’re so happy that you take a few pictures just for memory keeping, something you always do, while Miguel watches you fondly.

After finishing taking pictures, the two of you head back inside to warm up by cuddling on the couch, just like you were hoping. The show you were playing earlier is still going, but you don’t even care much about it at this point since you’ve re-watched like a million times anyway, so you focused on caressing Miguel’s face, who looks more than happy with the attention. He leans into your touch, his crimson eyes fluttering in delight due to your soft hands.

“I bet everyone is going to say how wonderful the spider webs look when we host the little party on Halloween,” you whisper, remembering that you both decided to host a small Halloween party for the neighbors. “I’m going to have to pay you back.”

“Mmm, yeah? What do you have in mind?” Miguel asks, his hand moving to your hip, caressing it lightly.

“Hmm, I’ll think about it,” you reply. “I have an idea,” you add, earning yourself a gentle squeeze at your hip and the sweetest, laziest smile from your husband, who you know doesn’t care if you reciprocate the kind gesture in any way since he did it out of love.

Halloween Party

Dressed in matching costumes with Miguel, your Halloween party is a success. You set up age appropriate games for the kids and made sure to have plenty of delicious food and candy, on top of what the neighbors brought over. At the end of the party, Miguel and you stand outside on the front of your home to see the last couple out for the night.

“You two have a great night. Thank you for the good time,” Mrs. García says with a smile. “It was lovely!”

Miguel and you smile, standing next to each other. You feel your husband’s arm around your waist from the back, his warmth seeping into your own body.

“It was a pleasure, Mrs. García. I’m glad you enjoyed it,” you reply, pleased with yourself since the small group of people you invited seemed to have enjoyed themselves.

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you, but those spider webs! They’re so wonderful. I hope you don’t mind me asking, but where did you buy them?” the older woman asks, her husband looking at the spider webs with interest, too.

You grin, recalling that the very next day after Miguel and you hanged them, the spider webs were a point of discussion around the neighborhood. You can only guess why.

“My mom bought them for us, but I’m not sure where she got them from since they don’t have a company logo or something like that,” you lie, finding it easy to do so because it’s not the first time that you’ve been asked where you got them from. Of course, you had to fabricate some lie because you can’t tell them your husband made them.

“That’s a shame. They’re so wonderful. I was thinking,” Mrs. García starts, staring at one of the spider webs. “They look so much like our superhero’s. It’s as if they were made by Spider-Man himself.”

You grin at that, feeling Miguel’s hand squeeze your side. “They do, don’t they?” Miguel says quietly. “But my mother-in-law got them for us. Where from? Solo Dios sabe [only God knows].”

After cleaning up and completing your night routines, you lay next to Miguel on your shared bed. You can’t help but stare at him with full admiration and love. You find yourself doing that often, wondering how everything led to this beautiful life with this beautiful and gentle man. Smiling, your eyes move over that beautiful chiseled face, loving how cute your husband looks with his reading glasses. You watch him flip the page on his current read, seemingly unaware of his wife’s eyes.

You can’t help yourself — he looks so handsome laying on his side of the bed, shirtless with grey sweatpants as bottoms.

“¿No te han dicho que es de mala educación cuando te le quedas mirando a alguien [Haven’t they told you it’s rude to stare?]?” Miguel asks, smirking softly and looking at you.

And God, no matter how long you’ve been together, that smirk and voice does things to you. Your cheeks feel hot and suddenly you turn shy under your husband’s gaze. “I was just admiring the view,” you confess softly. “Can’t help it.”

Still smirking, Migue places his book on the nightstand and removes his reading glasses. In seconds, he has you straddling his lap with ease. He wraps his arms around your waist, his hands caressing your sides. “Mm, I find myself doing that too often with my lovely wife,” Miguel whispers.

You smile and cup Miguel’s face. “Is that so?”

“Mhm, so much. I’d be a trillionaire if I was paid for looking at you,” he replies, making you chuckle.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “For making the lovely spider webs. I love them so much!” You press a soft kiss to his lips. “You have no idea how many compliments they got and how many times I had to lie about my mom buying them for me, so they wouldn’t get any ideas about where they came from.”

Squeezing your sides, Miguel grins. “Anything for you, preciosa [precious]. And it seems our little white lie worked. Hopefully no one thinks too hard about them, like Mrs. García.”

“’Made by Spider-Man himself’ — she got it right on the head,” you whisper, amused before leaning forward again and pecking Miguel’s lips. “I’m gonna have to thank Spider-Man himself for lending me a hand.”

“Hmm, yeah? I’ve heard he loves cookies and sweet tamales [I think everyone knows these; Latin dish],” Miguel replies in a whisper, brushing his lips against yours, still holding you close. “Perhaps you can thank him like that, with something sweet.”

“Ah, ah,” you tease. “I did have a feeling he has a sweet tooth.”

“The worst,” Miguel answers, grinning. “He loves sweet things… Like his sweet wife, who has the sweetest lips, voice, and….” Miguel trails off and begins to pepper your face with gentle kisses.

“Hmm, what were you going to say there, arañita [little spider]?” you ask, amused, while Miguel continues showering you with kisses.

Pulling back, Miguel smiles. “The sweetest soul I know,” he whispers.

“I don’t think that’s what you were going to say.”

Miguel chuckles. “No, but it’s the truth all the same. You’re the sweetest and I’m so thankful to be yours,” he adds, his hands moving to your ass, squeezing gently, before leaning forward to kiss you slowly, tenderly, and lovingly on the lips.

You kiss him back, still cupping his face. “I love you,” you whisper against his lips when you pause the kiss just to tell him that.

“Y yo a ti, mi vida [and I you, my life],” Miguel replies in a whisper. “Te amo [I love you].”

You kiss again before you pull back, feeling something poking you. You grin. “Spider-Man really does love sweet things, hm?”

“Mhm, he has a craving for something sweet right now,” Miguel answers.

“Did you know Spider-Man's wife loves it when her husband wears grey sweatpants?”

“I may or may not know that,” Miguel murmurs, using a hand to caress your cheek with a mischievous grin.

“Something tells me you do know,” you only manage to say before your husband rolls over on top of you to get his sweet tooth satisfied.

A/N: Thank you for reading!!

Alondra❤️

[fafodill]

Everything began upon @snapey's request and what I thought was going to be a tricky but fun dive into Headcanon territory became a full on fascinating (and frankly a tad depressing) deep dive into Hogwarts and 1970's social classes living conditions.

Because what Severus Snape might enjoy eating as an adult or as a teen would be influenced firstly by his childhood and oh boi put your seatbelts on my little rats.

- So, a bit of context first -

Snape grew up in the slums in the 60s. His family was from the working-class and we canonly know they didn't have much money (Severus didn't have his own clothes as a child), and so they might not had much to eat either. And the Snapes weren't just working-class poor, they were dirt-poor (go here if you want to see photos of what the slums could look like back then). Living in the slums was not a choice. We're talking people working for a desperately low wage and barely making by. They were stuck there, at the bottom of the social and economic chain, living in incredibly difficult conditions.

So we're talking homemade meals, sometimes only once a day or none at all. Cheap vegetables (potatoes, carrots, beans, greens etc), a cheap cut of meat sometimes, tinned soup or meat, sometimes sausages. They had to make it last as long as possible and of course never let anything go to waste. Sometimes when he got hungry, he'd only get beans on toast or buttered sandwiches with cheap white bread. No sweets, no snacks for the whole day. Sometimes he just went hungry. He was familiar with the sensation of an empty stomach.

It's possible that he learned to chew very slowly from that time, to trick his mind and stomach into thinking he was eating more that he truly was.

One can wonder if he went to muggle primary school. It's hard to say if there was one near Spinner's End or if maybe his mother homeschooled him. It could make sense if he went as it would mean getting one (even bad) free meal that day. We're talking pies and maybe pudding, but considering the area was poor it might not even have been any good... but at least it was food. Maybe there wouldn't be enough for everybody, or not much. Food poisoning might have been frequent too.

In any case, what becomes clear is that food wasn't a given for Severus. It was rationed, of poor quality, little variety, maybe even flavorless if not bad tasting. Not saying his mother was a bad cook, but there's so much you can do in these times with no income. I'm sure sometimes there would be a special meal, for a birthday or a Holiday (Christmas maybe?) but that wouldn't be the norm.

So Severus grew up without eating much, which has little to do with his natural body frame, but I wouldn't be surprised if it had stunned his growth at least a little (if not a lot). I don't have any difficulties picturing him as too little and too scrawny for an 11 year old when he left home.

And since food wasn't a given it wouldn't be surprising if he integrated deep down that he couldn't eat too much at every meal or else it would mean he (and his parents) wouldn't have enough for the next one. Maybe there was even an unspoken rule that his father needed more food because he was the bread-winner of the family and Severus saw his mother eat less purposefully and mimicked her. I'm sure his mother wanted him to eat, but if he said he was fine maybe she wouldn't argue too much, as that may also mean Tobias would be in a better mood. And Severus might have also wanted for Tobias to be in as much of a good mood as possible back then.

He might also have stolen food back then. Sometimes from the pantry (very tiny, strategically unremarkable things) or from the outside.

We know the Evans family was better off than the Snapes, so it wouldn't be surprising if through Lily he was able to experience some nicer things (maybe candies, licorice or even chocolate) or maybe he was even invited a few times for dinner.

Could be really cute to imagine Lily introduced him to some new flavors that left him speechless and so fricking happy as he got home with the taste still in his mouth. Maybe she'd give him a candy and he would just lick it a few times then carefully put it back in the wrapper to make it last as much as possible. For days. It's be a treat after dinner, just one, two licks, letting the taste fill his mouth, closing his eyes and hiding it back under his pillow.

In any case, taking into account what we know from canon and the reality of what living in the slums means, we could - in my opinion - safely assume that Severus Snape knew what Hunger was.

- When he first went to Hogwarts -

With all of this in mind, can we take a second to stop and imagine what finally coming to Hogwarts might have been like for 11 years old Severus Tobias Snape? Of course he was excited, his mother had told him all about it, but nothing could have prepared him for the reality of the sheer amount of food appearing before his little eyes when the Sorting Ceremony was over. Nothing.

His first meal in the wizarding world was a proper feast. This is something a starving child doesn't forget and this might have played an early role in strengthening his resolve of embracing his magical side instead his muggle heritage. The magic part of his life was literally abundant and nourishing.

I won't go into detail here but there's this incredible post detailing every food appearing in the books that we know of (so in the 90s). Here is an extract from it that I think is important to give a bit of context:

Probably to give a subtle wave to the fact that Hogwarts is the magical version of a public school, nearly all the food consumed there is traditional and British. A public school here is NOT a state-maintained school, it is a private, extremely expensive, prestigious, boarding school, e.g Eton, which only the children of people with a lot of money and a lot of influence attend. By default, these people are usually upper class or aristocracy. (Obviously in the wizarding world money isn’t a factor in school attendance, but nevertheless that is what Hogwarts is modelled on.) There is never any mention of processed foods at Hogwarts except chips and a few common desserts.

When the food appeared, I can totally imagine him being so stunned that he couldn't move for a few minutes. Too many smells, so much variety, everything overflowing everywhere. And as he looked around, people were just... digging in. And it took him a moment to realize he was allowed to. Because of course he was. He was a student, he was finally at Hogwarts.

So he slowly plated himself something, looking around expectantly as if someone was about to get angry at him. Of course it didn't happen but he couldn't fight off years of conditioning so he might have not eaten much that evening. Anyway, he was already so overwhelmed with nervousness and happiness from being here that it didn't matter.

In the weeks that followed though, as he settled in, he might have eaten more. Way more. He wanted to try everything, even stuff that looked almost suspicious since he had no idea what it was. I think he discovered the pure joy of just stuffing his face. It was great, the freedom of not expecting to lack, of just reaching out for an apple whenever he was hungry. And I'm pretty convinced he got a few stomach aches for 1) eating too much/too fast and 2) trying things his stomach wasn't familiar with. That's when he discovered you could also get a tummy ache if you ate too much. Huh.

Maybe he even discovered that he was like... allowed to take some food with him (like I could see him stuffing one? two? three??? apples in his bag, bewildered that he was allowed and could just... snack on it whenever he wanted??? WHAT A LIFE.)

And it was like discovering a never ending new world of savors through the seasons as the meals changed. So exciting. Abundance but also a journey of tasty discoveries.

This being said, talking about food with other students might have been a strange and alienating experience. He might have gotten strange looks (because who was that feral child eating everyday like it was his last meal and asking what mince pies were?) and felt self-conscious when sharing his home life. He might have stopped doing that real fast, especially if he was surrounded by wealthy slytherins heirs.

His big discoveries might have been (please remember I'm talking out of my ass here since I'm trying to imagine the big differences he might have perceived in the 70s from his childhood in the slums):

-Fresh vegetables.

-Being able to eat meat at every meal if he wanted to.

-Actually good gravy.

-Spices.

-Deserts.

This being said, I wouldn't be surprised either if Hogwarts was a lot to deal with. Talk about his life doing a 180°. So maybe he also developed coping mechanism to deal with the onslaught of stress/socializing/work and one of them might have been... eating a bit like at home: eating things closer in taste to things he had back there (comfort food?) and to run on very little. It could have been a way to control soothe his senses.

I have a headcanon that when he went home for Christmas that first year (maybe the only time he did), when his mother welcomed him at the station she almost wept when she saw her little boy with fuller cheeks. He was still thin, still a little too small for his age, but he had some colors on him and sparkles in his eyes and so much to tell her. She was so proud. Of course he told her about the food as well - it made her happy and able to relive some of her own memories, but she also grew sad and regretful that they couldn't offer him a 'proper Christmas meal' (which was ridiculous, he perfectly knew what their usual Christmas dinner was like, he was just happy to see his Ma, but from this point on he refrained from talking too much about it as to not make her sad).

Speaking of that, going back home might have been a cold shower (metaphorically and figuratively)(he had also discovered the joys of hot showers and indoor plumbing) and as he went back to school in January, food might have tasted different again. Maybe tainted with the ever growing question: why would his mother embrace Muggle culture if it meant revoking such privilege ? And what could it say about his own future?

We could imagine a lot of different things about how his relationship with food would change over time. He might have slowed down his eating pace again after that trip home and chewed very slowly again because food=privilege and he wouldn't take it for granted. Maybe he'd eat very little because unconsciously he wouldn't feel deserving of it? Maybe he'd starve himself then binge and get himself sick?

I'm going with the idea that over his school years he normalized his eating habits. He's not a big eater (and I headcanon this being a consequence of his childhood conditioning) and has a fast metabolism (part genetics, part stress). For sure though, his upbringing impacted him and we canonly know he has trouble separating himself from his childhood (since he kept the house in Spinner's End).

- What about after school? (aka studies+DE days) -

We have literally 0 clues regarding his studies after Hogwarts (tho to become a Potion Master he must have done a Mastery of some kind) but we could assume it was as another Potion Master's apprentice, who could have been an honorable witch/wizard and thus, he might have had decent living conditions.

But we also know (or we assume more like) that he might also have been introduced into the DE circles around that time, maybe as a protégé of Lucius Malfoy and so now we're upgrading from Hogwarts's food to aristocracy-tier meals. We're talking expensive alcohol in crystal glasses, multiple courses meals, foreign delicacies, sculpted magical deserts... I have a few headcanons about that.

-He knew the basics of etiquette from his mother but Lucius and Narcissa trained him on everything (tables manners, conversations, pureblood customs, posture, voice inflections, etc.) He learnt fast and asked a lot of questions.

-As for the food... don't get me wrong I'm pretty sure he must have been blown away by some stuff that tasted incredible but I can't shake the feeling that he also must have struggled due to the invisible class barrier from his upbringing. In their world, food had always been a given. They never experienced the joy of stuffing their face after starving for years, had no idea what discovering chocolate at 10 years old was like, the weeping joy of not being afraid to skip meals. He might have been envious of them but also maybe a bit angry because they had no idea how easy they had it.

-Also yes, the food was good but could we not spend an hour blowing smoke up each other's asses about that filet? Yes it's good, but at the end of the day it's meat. Yes yes, caviar is expensive but it's just fish eggs and the texture is disturbing as fuck, can we just not?

Deep down Severus Snape isn't refined, though he tried hard to hide it back then. Underneath controlled inflections was a thick accent, underneath that elevated pinky were rude but earnest table manners and behind the compliment about the vinaigrette was a yearning for some fucking boiled potatoes. Despite everything, despite his efforts, despite himself... at the end of the day inside of him he was still that poor gruff man from the Midlands.

- Adult life (back to Hogwarts) -

No we venture into what he might have enjoyed eating. Honestly, it's so difficult and subjective because I'm so not-versed with British food, having never tasted anything so projecting what this specific guy might have liked or not is just me blabbing so I will focus more on eating habits and, big likes and dislikes and a few specific ones. (feel free to give me your own headcanons in the comments!). Here we go:

-Severus is still not a big eater. It's part residual conditioning, part metabolism, part nerves/anxiety/depression. But he works a lot and needs energy so he rarely skips a meal, except for his bi-annual depressive episodes.

-Little breakfast, medium/big lunch, light dinner. Sometimes a late-night snack if he works late.

-With age and after his time with the Malfoys, he went back to enjoying simpler food again. It wasn't so much nostalgia as much as feeling more 'himself' that way.

Breakfast

-He always has the same breakfast for long periods of time (which goes in hand with my autistic headcanon) going from two to six months until he's bored of it. Sometimes it's two buttered pieces of toast. Sometimes it's one egg and some beans but always with one cup of black coffee.

-He finds porridge's texture deeply unpleasant as it reminds him of the sludge his mother used to make.

-He also enjoys crumpets a lot. Sometimes as a late-night snack.

Lunch/Dinner

-He's not difficult with food, really. But he prefers his meat tender (because it's better than the rubber shit he ate as a kid) and his vegetables a bit crunchy.

-His mother made good sausage rolls and he still enjoys it quite a bit.

-He likes chicken but thinks it's way tastier if you eat it with your hands (childhood memory) but he has a reputation to maintain so..

-He often gets stomach aches if he eats too much at dinner so one of his go-to is soup.

Sweets

-As a teen he didn't have money to buy stuff from Honeydukes (he always told himself he didn't care anyway)(he did)(someone heal his inner child please). He still considers sugar as something a bit luxurious even though it's both available and affordable to him now.

-He doesn't necessarily have a sweet tooth per say but he enjoys the... practicality of sugar. Since he doesn't eat a lot and works long hours he relies on it to get his energy boosts.

-He's got a little tin of biscuits in his office (plain ones or with cinnamon or ginger) for when he drinks tea by himself and is in the mood for a tiny treat after a long day.

-Dark chocolate. He bites and lets it melt slowly under his tongue. He especially likes the kind with sea salt.

-Treactle tart is one of his favorites as it still reminds him of Christmas with his mother (it was one of her specialties and he always helped her make it. It's one of the nicest memories he has with her).

-He makes his own candied flowers once a year. When he goes into the Forbidden forest for ingredients in Spring, he also picks some violets and makes three jars. (He gives one to Minerva.)

-He enjoys grapes, mostly because he likes spitting the seeds.

Drinks

-First coffee of the morning is taken black. Don't talk to him, don't breathe near him. In fact, don't exist it's better this way. The second one is taken with sugar and in the afternoon he switches to tea. Then coffee again at night at the end of semester when he has too much work.

-As a teen he drank a lot of pumpkin juice. Less so as as an adult (he almost completely stopped when he became teacher because he wanted to appear as mature as possible in front of his colleagues and the students) but later on he would rarely say no to a cup.

-He rarely drinks alcohol and maybe got hammered twice in his life (once he got angry-drunk and it reminded him way too much of his father and another time he got depressed-drunk, which was pure shite as well).

-He likes his tea black, sometimes with sugar. Will judge heavily anyone who fails to prepare it properly (Minerva makes a great one).

Dislikes

-Stringy meat. It gets stuck between his fucked up teeth and he abhors the sensation.

-Sticky stuff (like caramel). Same issue.

-He hates corn.

Unrelated you won't convince me he's not a constipated bitch. I don't think I need to explain myself here. The man is a walking knot.

Here you go! I'm finally done. If you made it this far, thank you... I'm tired and I hope this was mildly interesting to you. I'd love to hear your thoughts and headcanons about this so feel free to reblog or comment ! <3

Big big thanks to @dirty-dirty-muggle, @wumbocroft, @historycat for their precious help and contribution on that topic. Also thanks to @arkadijxpancakes again for showing me this incredible post about Hogwarts's food.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Raven I’m reading the Tapis Rouge event on eng server and I’ve noticed this weird pattern with Ace? He was asking us if we’ve ever heard of Beautiful Queen, despite the fact that he knows we wouldn’t since we’re from another world, and he did the same thing in the Wish Upon a Star Event where he asks us “have you really never heard of Wish Upon a Star?” It’s like ??? Dude? You know I’m not from here? That stuff doesn’t exist back home. I mean, I can get staying in Twisted Wonderland long enough to hear about a few things but he acts like us knowing this stuff should be common sense to us even though he’s very well aware it’s not. 😭

To be fair to Ace, he’s not the only character that does this! For example, Lilia and Kalim are surprised that Yuu and Grim are unfamiliar with how they celebrate Halloween and that they don’t know what the Scalding Sands Fireworks Festival is. In the case of Halloween, Lilia is later pleased to hear that Yuu also has this holiday in another world. (In case you’re confused, the dialogue littered across Twst implies that it is common knowledge among NRC students and even staff that Yuu is from another world.)

It is true that Ace is frequently guilty of being surprised at Yuu not knowing about various Twisted Wonderland things. If I had to guess, he probably does it the most of the characters in the main cast. Just off the top of my head, there’s the prologue, book 2, Happy Beans Day, Wish Upon a Star, and Tapis Rouge (Red Carpet Cadets in EN).

I don’t think it’s an issue of Ace getting convenient amnesia (as this is a consistent thing in the main story too, not just events which are non-canonical) or intentionally saying it to be annoying despite knowing better. To me, it reads as Ace genuinely being ignorant + not being able to imagine what it’s like to be from another world and/or expecting them to know better. He seems to assume Yuu’s world is like Twisted Wonderland, or he expects that Yuu should be able to quickly pick up on things that are commonly known in Twisted Wonderland like he has.

To my first point, Ace is portrayed as flippant and not taking things seriously. He’s often not paying attention in class or finding ways to dodge doing work. More importantly, he’s also shown to be ignorant and to not know a lot about things beyond his own interests and narrow understanding of the world. Two major examples are in Jack’s Ceremonial Robes vignettes, in which Ace assumes that Jack, a beastman, MUST come from Sunset Savanna, and also generalizes the people of the Shaftlands (despite being a massive plot of land) as being a certain way. Riddle has to correct his dorm member. This indicates to me that Ace would make similar assumptions of what Yuu’s world is like, based heavily on his own understanding of how the world works. And if Twisted Wonderland is all Ace knows, why wouldn’t he default to that as the “norm” for Yuu’s world too?

To my second point, Ace has a particular talent for mimicry in many things. He can pick up dance moves, do vocal impressions, and has a sharp memory that allows him to relay mole language after hearing it demonstrated just once. Ace is also an opportunist, quick to adapt to a situation in order to get his way. For example, he cozies up to Leona in Endless Halloween Night so that he’d be spared from Floyd’s antics and tries to sneak snacks when he believes Vil isn’t watching. At the dame time, Ace is known to tease others (mainly Deuce) for not being able to be as quick to pick up on the situation or on new skills as he is. Considering all of these points, it’s not too far of a stretch to think that Ace would tease Yuu for similar shortcomings.

Speaking of Deuce, he mentions in Wish Upon a Star that it makes sense that Yuu wouldn’t know the holiday, since they’re from another world:

This reaction makes sense for Deuce’s character. While Deuce is equally as clueless about certain things (math, his own hometown, etc.), he’s still overall the more grounded and considerate of the Adeuce duo. On top of that, he’s having his own problems developing into the honors student ideal he aims for, so he doesn’t hold it against others when they’re not aware of something. Deuce and Ace may both be a part of Yuu’s friend circle, but they are very different people and react in different ways as a result of that.