#sorry for some clunky wording here. i am doing my best

[marnz]

thoughts about writing and the moral project of art and my current project (valley book) below the cut, tw for mentions of abuse and violence

i think the key but under discussed thing about writing is how much empathy and compassion the author must have for each and every character. i think a lot about this amazing NYT essay by kaitlyn greenridge about who gets to write what, but especially the part where she discusses needing to love a monstrous character into existence. i don’t know if everyone agrees with this, when writing characters who are monstrous (using the word used in the essay) but i think the best art comes when we do afford each and every character full humanity while writing them even if the reader never gets their pov. when there’s care taken with a storyline even if the character is abhorrent. i’m writing a man who, caught in the cycle of abuse, does a terrible thing. i do love him. i am sad for him. i am sad that harm was enacted onto him and i am sad he enacts harm and i am sad for the character he harms. i am sad this happens to so many people and i am sad that these cycles are so difficult to break. i am taking care with his storyline, i am trying to think deeply, to research, to be as sensitive as possible.

but along with that i am also thinking about how much time and energy is spent thinking about men’s rage, and their set of circumstances, and how sometimes circumstances are misused--not to understand but to excuse. which feels very different to me. i find understanding circumstances quite useful in my personal life but also as a writer but i totally get that this is not true for anyone. but for me, i can’t really reckon with and understand an action without reckoning with and understanding other people. it’s more than a cycle for me it’s like a constellation, there’s always so much going on that we can never see or know, we can only guess at, but if you fill in what you can it’s easier to see the shape of it. easier to bear. anyway...in no way is this meant to be a post about sexism but the more i thought about this man’s backstory, and thought processes, and actions, the more i thought about how women are taught to take extraordinary rage and turn it inwards. i think maybe this is a gendered expectation but also an expectation of every marginalized community, to take rage and turn it against themselves because it’s the safest option. i am, again, thinking about Sharp Objects. i am thinking about this because we just do not spend as much time, culturally, dwelling on the rage of the marginalized. we find it very threatening. you see this with outrage over ppl speaking up over racism, transphobia, sexism, homophobia, you name it. this is so obvious but i could not stop thinking about this, possibly bc a lot of this project is about masculinity.

the character who is harmed is marie, the pov character, and the more i write her storyline the more rage i find! so i am thinking about it, generally, about how rage shapes an entire life, and how rage contributes to the cycle of abuse, and how a lot of anger is borne out of love--in this case, self love. how, for example, women or ppl assumed to be women, dealing with gendered expectations (marie, who in the present is a butch/gnc lesbian, was assumed to be straight and cis in high school) are taught to express rage. how members of marginalized communities are not allowed to express rage because they aren’t allowed to love themselves!

anyway. just thinking about it and articulating it poorly. i have been thinking about this more due to this excellent essay on Black Sabbath by Garth Greenwell and how having compassion for every character means knowing every character (and every person!) needs to have a ““good”“ reason for why they do things, even if they are abhorrent actions...everyone thinks the reason for their action is a good one, i think, they think it makes the most sense or feels right to them. but i think the thing about humanity is you can convince yourself any action is the right action, even if it’s abhorrent. so knowing that and gazing upon everyone with the same level of understanding and compassion is perhaps the job of an artist? just as greenwell argues the moral purpose of art IS to point this out. and to help us be better people, in the end, to know everyone is MORE than the worst thing they have ever done. to acknowledge the depth of their humanity. which is also the project of abolition! we cannot truly address harm without acknowledging humanity i think. it’s so difficult, i struggle with this so much, but that is the point, right? that it’s not supposed to be easy. i think treat others the way you want to be treated is such a grade school maxim but there is something to it, esp for the writer. see others the way you want to be seen.

[space-helen]

E.T

Words: 739

Pairing: Spock x Reader

A/N: This is the first thing I've written since last October so... I'm sorry if this is clunky. I'm note sure which Spock you wanted it for so I went AOS but I think it's pretty 'neutral' Spock if that makes sense?

Request: Spock's reaction to female reader singing the song E.T. by Katy Perry cause the reader lost a bet to Kirk so now she has to sing that song to basically admit she likes Spock. As a added bonus you can add a part where Spock tells Kirk that was unnecessary since he and the reader are already dating. If you don't like the bonus idea just ignore it! Keep up the awesome writing! - @originaltyphoonkryptonite

______________________

“You’re not being serious?”

“I won Y/N. A deals a deal.” Jim said with a smile.

You rolled your eyes “The song is so, incredibly, old. Could you not pick something more current?” 

“It just makes it funnier. It’s a classic.” the man put his hand on your back and began to guide you towards Spock's quarters. 

Grumbling as you went he quickly shoved you inside. Spock stood from where he was sitting and looked between the two of you. “What is the problem? You look distressed.” his eyes fell to you.

“Nothing, nothing.” you turned around to leave but Jim stopped you and turned you back around. 

“Y/L/N.” it was almost a warning from your Captain.

“Spock.” you looked at the man before looking down at the floor and hesitating, this was so embarrassing “You’re so hypnotizing.”

“Y/N” Spock spoke, grounded to his spot as Jim nudged you.

“Could you be the devil? Could you be an angel?”

“Sing” Jim whispered under his breath.

You sighed and the next parts came out with some tune “Your touch, magnetizing, feels like I am floating. Leaves my body glowing.” the following lines came out rushed and you took a break.

“Properly now.” Jim encouraged.

“Y/N please-” came Spocks voice as he took a step towards you. 

“Kiss me, ki-ki kiss me. Infect me with your lovin’ fill me with your poison. Take me, ta-ta-take me. Wanna be your victim ready for abduction. Boy, you’re an alien. Your touch, so foreign It’s supernatural. Extraterrestrial.” you quickly turned to Jim “Happy now?”

“The whole song-”

“I’m not singing the whole song Jim that’s ridiculous. I think you’ve made me get my point across alright?” 

“And what point would that be Captain?” Spock questioned Jim directly.

“Come on Spock, think about the words. What do you think she’s trying to tell you?”

“Was this your scheme to get Y/N to tell me that she finds me attractive?”

“Well… Yes it was.” he moved his hand to the back of his neck and looked at you.

“Did it ever occur to you that I may already know this?”

“You- Then why would you pass up the opportunity?” you watch Jim sweat under the pressure.

“Did you consider in any way that Y/N and I may be in a relationship at present?”

“You’re what?” the man looked between the two of you “Impossible. Actually impossible. Why would Y/N have been so scared to come here and sing?”

“We were keeping it a secret” you pitched in “We didn’t want everyone to know right away. Plus I was so embarrassed. I don’t like singing in front of people.The whole situation was just awkward.” you made a gesture to the room.

“I take your point but really? You weren’t going to tell me?”

Spock came to stand beside you as you spoke “We were going to tell you at the game night on Saturday.”

“We thought it would be best to tell everyone at the same time. Before we go on shore leave. To give you all time to digest the information.”

Jim nodded “Right.” he hesitated for a second “So I’m not allowed to tell anyone before Saturday?”

You shook your head “we’d prefer it if you didn’t”

“So I won’t get the joy of telling everyone I got the two of you together.”

You beamed with a smile “No Jim, no you won’t. But you can keep that little narrative in your head if that makes you happier.”

“That I will.” he smiled. He gave the two of you one last look and you could see a gleam in his eyes. “I should leave the two of you love birds to it.” turning on his heels he quickly left. You heard him clap his hands together and laugh as he moved through the doorway “perfect just perfect.” 

As the door closed behind him you wrapped your arm around Spock and gave him a side hug. “I’m sorry. Jim insisted.”

“It was probably for the best. He may have combust if he found out with the others on Saturday.”

“You’re not wrong there.” breaking away from the hug you straightened out your uniform. “I’ll catch you later, I should probably get back to work.”

“I await your return.” he watched as you walked out of his quarters and he could feel his eyes expression soften in admiration.

Tag List: (open, please ask if you want to be added)

All Star Trek: @heyitsaloy  @angel-with-wings-castiel @starfleet-imagines @perasperaadastrawriting @butchers-girl

All Fics: @perasperaadastrawriting @asgards-princess-of-mischief @trippol-threat @captainsophiestark 

[aropride]

following me simulator (in the reverse order it should be for readability sorry)

773,439 notes

aropride Follow April 5th 2024, 08:27am

good MORNINg dashboard. time for another day i am not ready but i will do it

#text #happyt thursday treat thursday

3 notes

aropride Follow April 5th 2024, 10:02am

to do today. psych quiz , work on zines, Remember to eat, dont die

#text #to do list tag

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aropride Follow April 5th 2024, 10:37am

my life is so beautiful (boy whos at the library voice)

#text

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GO TO HERE

#text #Spotify

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aropride Follow April 5th 2024, 11:22am

all right well why dont u listen to the waves crash against the shore for a while and maybe you’ll calm down . can you let the beauty of the world overtake you for just one fucking second

#text

31,798 notes

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aropride Follow April 5th 2024, 12:05pm

everyone on here needs to stop laughing about how "adopting pets from a shelter is for losers" and "those animals should be hunted for sport instead" its reprehensible on so many levels. First of all

Read more

#text #discourse

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aropride Follow April 5th 2024, 12:32pm

answer my questions boy

#text #polls

126 notes

aropride Follow April 5th 2024, 01:14pm

mcr5 summer 2024. mark my words

#text #mcr5

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aropride Follow April 5th 2024, 01:49pm

shaking and trembling and looking at you with fear in my eyes etc . did anyone else notice its scary

#text #scaredposting

39 notes

aropride Follow April 5th 2024, 02:43pm

ooh my godfdddd guys . just had an f slur moment so insane i literally cant come backfrom this one they have to kill me they have to kill me.

#text #I HATE BEING BISEXUAL THIS IS SO HUMBLING . #i would literally. WHATEVER

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aropride Follow 🔁 mychemmutal1 Follow April 5th 2024, 04:12pm

[gerard image]

#i miss you baby girl please call me i love you

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[picture of a big clunky computer with some wires exposed or something]

#MY BEAUTIFUL WIFE. need her carnally #💾

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aropride Follow April 5th 2024, 06:37pm

just had the best pbj sandwich ever if you even care

#i love you pbj sandwich #text

4 notes

aropride Follow April 5th 2024, 06:58pm

i am goign to rip this title ix coordinator LIMB FROM LIMB !!!!!!!!

#text #WHO ELSE UP HAVING THEIR CIVIL RIGHTS VIOLATED LOLLLL #the negligence is crazy Lol . giys should i sue . i could literally fucking sue right now . oh my god . jesus christ #neg #🗒️

11 notes

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its like no one even cares about frozen 2013 anymore

#text

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[gerard image]

#i miss her thighs i mean her music #PLEASE VOME BACKKKKKKK

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judt went to the store and almost got hit by a fucking car coming back Like actually

#text #HAPPY THURSDAY I GUESS . WHATEVER

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no but literally like. im NEVER gonna give you up. NEVER gonna let you down NEVER gonna tell a lie and HURT YOU..!!!!!!!!

#text #/ly

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aropride Follow April 5th 2024, 08:31pm

edibles time i deserve a little treat to be FREAKING honest

#text #weedposting

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aropride Follow April 5th 2024, 09:48pm

The edible has turned me bisexual once more.

#text #I NEED THEM IN A WAY THAT'S CONCERNING TO THE QUEER RIGHTS MOVEMENT

[pluviowriting]

Someone to Call Mine

18+ || MDNI || Content Warning: Mild language, just some smooching, clunky dialogue because I wanted to get lyrics from the inspo song in here (Someone to Call Mine by Chloe Ament)

Word Count: 1.9k

Repost from original blog @/pluvpluvpluv

Adeline was having the worst day. She woke up late, missed transfiguration - and breakfast, but that felt less important than missing class with her favorite professor. She couldn’t find her tie anywhere, and her hunt for the article of clothing that seemed to have grown legs and left her dormitory of its own accord had almost made her late to potions. She still looked disheveled as she hurried in, and of course she was the last to arrive. Even Professor Sharp looked up from his desk as she walked in. She just smiled, hoping that if she ignored the fact that she looked a disheveled mess, everyone else would too.

"You look like shit.” Sebastian Sallow, her potions partner, leaned down and whispered in her ear.

”Wow, Seb. Thank you. I hadn’t noticed.” She grumbled out, pulling her notebook out to get prepared for class. “I slept through transfiguration, and I hardly made it here in time. I don’t have the patience for your attitude today.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “My apologies. Don’t want to be on the bad side of the Hero of Hogwarts, now do I?”

”I swear to Merlin, if you don’t knock it off.”

Her friend just chuckled as Sharp began class.

”Today, you’ll be brewing amortentia. Can anyone tell me what this potion is known for? Mister Thakkar?”

”Amortentia is the strongest love potion to exist. It has a mother of pearl sheen and the steam comes off in perfect spirals if brewed correctly. It’s meant to smell like what someone is most attracted to. If consumed, the person is in a lovestruck trance until an antidote is administered.”

”That’s correct. Points to Ravenclaw.”

Addie grinned, shooting her housemate a thumbs up from across the potions station. At least one of them was a good representative of their house today. Amit returned her smile, giving her a slight wave as well.

”The recipe can be found in your textbooks, each pairing will be required to brew a batch of amortentia. You’ll be graded on its appearance. I’d recommend you get to work.”

Sebastian was immediately off with half of the other students to gather the necessary potion ingredients, well the ones that Sharp would provide them with anyways.

”Well, good morning Adeline.”

Her eyes snapped up to Amit’s potions partner, and they immediately narrowed into a glare.

”Weasley. I don’t have the patience for your nuisance today.”

He clicked his tongue in amusement, his facial expression nothing short of antagonistic. “And all I was doing was wishing you a good morning.”

“I can hear the gears trying to turn in your skull from here. You weren’t just wishing me good morning.”

Whatever snarky reply the redhead was going to give her seemed to die in his throat as Amit and Sebastian returned.

“I see you’re all settling in. I want to ensure everyone is putting forth their best efforts with this potion, as it can be dangerous if brewed incorrectly. Without switching potion stations, switch partners.”

Adeline hardly had time to process Sharp’s instructions before she heard Sebastian speak.

”Addie, I am so sorry. Amit, you’re with me.”

Once her brain finally caught up, the realization of what Sebastian was apologizing for dawned on her. He had taken Amit for himself and left her to be partners with Garreth. She hadn’t felt this betrayed since the night he had deigned to call her ignorant. Unfortunately, she’d have to deal with her traitorous friend later. 

”Look at us, Adeline. Why, I don’t think you’ve assisted me with potions since your first class when you so graciously grabbed that fwooper feather for me,” Garreth spoke cheerfully as he and Sebastian swapped places to stand near their new partners.

”And we both know how well that turned out. You made a right mess and I ended up in hot water with Sharp.”

“And it blew over immediately, you charmed the socks off of him. I don’t even think it cost you any house points. I was the one stuck behind cleaning it up.”

It hadn’t, thankfully, but there were a lot of things Adeline would do before telling Garreth Weasley he was right. Facing Ranrok again under the school without her wand made that list.

”Whatever, we don’t have time to be bickering. I assume you are capable of following instructions on a potion as precarious as this one? Or are you going to throw an errant ingredient in there to see if you can change the shape of the steam?”

”I am quite capable, thank you for your unwavering belief in my abilities. Surely you know Ravenclaw doesn’t house the only smart students in this school.”

She simply nodded, not saying another word as she began preparing the ingredients for amortentia. One of the perks of not losing her adventurous spirit after fifth year was she never had to go looking for potion ingredients to complete assignments. She always had a backstock of them - especially since she invested in hopping pots to keep her own potion stock filled.

“The ingredients will go bad if you prepare them now. We need to go find them, Adeline.”

“No we don’t. I have what Sharp doesn’t supply. Are you just going to sit and watch me or are you going to contribute?”

She was pleased with herself when he silently moved closer to what was now their station and took over prepping another ingredient.

~~~

“Miss Redferne. Since you and Mister Weasley seem to have accomplished brewing your amortentia so quickly, why don’t you both demonstrate how this potion smells differently and tell us what you smell.” Sharp’s voice boomed throughout the potions classroom, and suddenly every student’s focus was on her and Garreth.

She took a step closer to the cauldron, holding her hair back as she leaned over and wafted the steam to her nose.

“I smell something sweet, like fizzing whizbees. And smoke. And the library? It smells like books and parchment.”

Upon realizing the smell she had described, her face paled. Her amortentia smelled like Garreth fucking Weasley. Fizzing whizbees from her trip through the secret passage to get him the billywig stings. Smoke from the several potion failures he’d had in class over the two and a half years she had known him. Old pages and parchment from the nights they’d been the only two in the library, sharing a table so they could taunt each other about who would get top marks without getting scolded by Scribner.

Without another moment’s hesitation, she turned and fled from the classroom, forever grateful she and Sebastian had wanted to be as far from the professor as possible. By the time she regained her sense of self, she was near the fountain in the transfiguration courtyard. She sat on an empty bench, burying her head in her hands as she started to embrace the crisis this development was pushing her towards. However, that was swiftly axed as she apparently couldn’t even panic in peace.

“Fizzing whizbees, smoke, and the library, hmm?”

Her head lifted slowly, hoping to Merlin her ears were playing tricks on her and she wouldn’t see who she thought she heard by the time she was looking at his face. Merlin was no help. She found herself looking into the green eyes of Garreth.

“Sod off, Weasley. Can’t you let me suffer in solitude?”

“And what if I was coming to embarrass myself like you did?” He questioned, still standing above her.

“I’m not that interested in hearing what you smelled.”

“Oh Addie, don’t be like that. Surely you could make a guess. Aren’t Ravenclaws meant to be smart?”

“I am smart! My mind won’t work when you’re around!” She shouted at him, no longer caring that they were in the middle of the courtyard and had an audience.

Even if she could think properly, her brain was broken almost the second she finished speaking. If her eyes hadn’t still been open, she wouldn’t have believed what happened. Garreth Weasley had practically flown at her, closing the distance between them until his lips were pressed to hers. His hands were holding either side of her face, and the moment she caught up, she relaxed. Her eyes closed and her hands fisted the front of his robes. The only thing she could think at that moment was that she wanted to freeze time.

“Excuse me!”

Adeline leapt back, her eyes falling on Professor Weasley who was standing and looking at the two with her arms crossed. Her own hand went up, feeling her swollen lips beneath her fingertips.

“Aunt Matilda…” Garreth rubbed the back of his neck, looking at her sheepishly. “I can explain?”

“I tried to get your attention three times. Three. You two cannot just be acting like this in the middle of school property.”

Both students reacted to the statement with flushed cheeks, and it seems they missed the gleam in the woman’s eye.

”Don’t let me, or anyone else for that matter, catch you two behaving that way again or else it will be detention and points from both of your houses.”

The pair answered in unison, only looking at each other once Professor Weasley had left. It was a long moment before either said something, and the first to break the silence was Garreth.

”Mallowsweet, a thunderstorm, and the library.” He looked at her with a soft smile, a stark contrast to the smug boyish grin he usually had plastered on his handsome face. “Mallowsweet, because you’re always carrying an absurd amount of it everywhere you go. The library because it’s where I see you most often. I believe the thunderstorm comes from that wondrous ancient magic of yours. I’ve seen you practically summon lightning.”

Her mouth felt dry as she processed what he was saying, but her mind didn’t seem to want to work with her mouth.

Y-you smell me?” She asked, her tone incredulous as her eyebrows furrowed.

“Yes! Merlin, for someone meant to be the brightest witch of our generation, you’re awfully slow.”

His signature grin made its way back to his face and he stood in front of her. She was still frozen in place, part of her unsure of what to do and the other part concerned about the threat Professor Weasley had leveled at them. Luckily for her, Garreth took her silence as an invitation to keep speaking.

“I’ve known since the first time we spoke. Well, alright. I didn’t exactly know then. I just knew I liked pressing your buttons, after you got short with me over putting you on Sharp’s bad side. I knew for certain at the end of fifth year. I heard some things I probably shouldn’t have about what happened under the school when I was heading to talk to Aunt Matilda.” He paused to take a breath, a soft laugh coming from his lips on the exhale. “All I could think was how I wish I had known and been able to be there for you. To help. Because there is nowhere you could go where I won’t be close behind.”

She opened her mouth to talk, to try and figure out where this grand statement was coming from, but he held up a hand to silence her. “You won’t interrupt me. Let me finish. I want to be there for you, Adeline. The earth could break apart, and as long as you’re alive, I’ll shoulder every weight for you. Hell, I’d hold up the bloody sky. I just need you to be alright.”

“Garreth Weasley.” Her voice was thick with emotion. “I cannot stand you.”

This time, he was the one with hardly any time to react as she talked closer to him, pulled him down by his tie, and smashed her lips to his. House points and detention be damned.

[defiledtomb]

Ouroboros: Progress

I haven't written one of these in forever, so it's slightly clunky, but I aim to have one of these out at least every quarter, if not monthly. Let's dive into it! Spoiler warning for the sneak peeks at the bottom.

What I got done since last month:

After the update drop, I took some time off the main story to prevent the budding burnout. I’m sure you are well aware of my malaise by now- it's a constant effort to stay on the tightrope.

I don't think I brought it up explicitly but when I started writing Ouroboros it was me riding the high of becoming a person again right after years long sick leave and battle with mental health, meaning that while I am absolutely thrilled that I'm getting so much out of life again, that fragile part of me still lives on and I have to take care not to let it get the best of me, and that means constant vigilance and self-compassion. Writing a project this big could easily be a full time job on its own, but I also have to account for going back to the workforce after being gone for so long. It's tough! irl work/life keeps amping up and will continue to eat my energy. Though, come summer, I might actually have some good news on my schedule and how my writing will fit into that. Fingers crossed.

Otherwise I have really enjoyed interacting and goofing around with you on tumblr again, and I’ve had a blast just reading and playing games. It was a very welcomed break. I still got a lot done regarding Ouroboros:

- Got started on all the short stories you voted on, and built the framework of code for how stories will be unlocked as you progress the story. 

- I got some much needed help with setting up a side-blog for writing content only; it’s getting there! Soon Ouro will have its own space.

- I added about 3k words to the next chunk of act 1. A drop in the ocean, but progress is progress. 

- I started sneak-writing on the next act and specifically, the underwater/caving chapter. I am so excited for it! Besides writing and hiking, diving and caving are core parts of my interests. (Didn't I once say that Ouro is disgustingly self indulgent? x] Because it sure is.) 

What’s next:

I am still taking it slow, since most of act 1 pt2 is already written  (60k words ish), and I have some responsibilities I’m gonna need to devote my time to. My goals for February are leading up to Ouro’s first anniversary, so I want to prepare something fun for us to enjoy! If it will be a chunk of update or something else remains to be decided. On the 8th of March we ride.

My priorities for February are:

-having fun with the short stories

-get the sideblog up and running with a new FAQ and character pages, and a new intro post.

-solidify the code and scene transitions for the next update 

- (stretch goal) edit/rewrite/add to the unhinged mess that the next update still is 

 Re: bug reports

Thankfully, last update was relatively bug free, but there are still a few reports sitting in my inbox waiting for changes, mainly

-the egregious oversight of having id's romance scenes appearing although the hunter is committed to L/not in the poly. More on that here.

-the questions with Iontif cutting off short in one path

-a section of the flashback with wrong pronouns + other pronoun variables not displaying correctly (the bane of my existence!!)

Thank you to those who reported these, I always note them down if I don't fix them directly. The reason why I am almost always tardy on bug fixes is because I'm treating this as a first draft that will be rewritten; it makes little sense to dedicate so much time to fixing things that will need to be fixed again. I do them when I have little else I want/have to do. I'm sorry! Triaging problem areas is essential to keeping this show going. I hope that it isn't too invasive to have a few errors in the scenes; rest assured that they will get fixed (eventually 🤡)

Re: save system

Something that has really bothered me lately, is thinking about CoG's obstinate refusal to implement save systems. I absolutely won't release Ouroboros without one, as with how much variation goes into the story (and knowing from first-hand experience playing large games, that one miss-click (or that horrendous bug that chooses options for you if you even look at it wrong) will have you go down a path you didn’t want, or you are faced with starting over, which sometimes leads to such fatigue that you just…stop playing.) it feels like shooting yourself in the foot to not have one. And worse, it feels plain cruel to subject the reader to that. There isn’t any possible way to fit every nuance of a choice into the box-text, or to imply a delayed outcome as a result of making a choice that seems very “innocent” at first glance.

So I stand before a really difficult decision; either code a save system from the bottom up, and I would have to do that sooner rather than later, or port the game to twine which brings its own bundle of problems. Right now I honestly no idea what I want to do, and I have to admit that it fuels a bit of writer's block as I feel locked in place until I come to a decision. Heurgh.

Now for the fun part. Sneak peeks!

I wont share the latter parts as they are still... Unhinged. But the next update isn't just romance, its weapons and insidious cults and fighting, too.  More on that, later.

Thanks for your support, your kind words and for sharing your journey in Ouro. It means the world to me. I’m serious!

[ettadunham]

inon zur, the man you are.

is this cheating? maybe. possibly. probably.

okay, so context. i have been doing this thing where i play a random adventure game spit out by a random generator program i created (because i'm a nerd). as a result, every now and then, you'll find a short write-up about some weird obscure little video game on my tumblr blog. it's just one of the many things that you have to put up with if you decided to follow me for whatever reason. sorry.

then one day, said randomizer spit out syberia 3, and let me tell you, i was delighted! this was the first time i had a game i already played on my list, so obviously, this meant a replay. but not just any replay. i now had to replay the entire series! obviously.

is this what i've done for other games that came up before? no. but you guys don't understand.

syberia is my special little guy.

syberia 1 and 2 are not only largely the reason for my long-lasting obsession with adventure games, they have arguably raised me. i am the human person i am today because i played syberia while listening to complicated by avril lavigne when i was 12. these are the foundations and building blocks of my personality. everything that's wrong with me comes back down to this.

so, yeah. to say that i was excited to get back to this one is a slight understatement. i was vibrating on a frequency previously undetected in human physiology.

i also start with all this to emphasize that, yeah. i have my rose-tinted nostalgia glasses on when it comes to these games. that doesn't mean i don't have my criticisms, especially looking at the game today, but... i cannot not love syberia. it's just science.

i should probably talk about the game itself at some point though, right? i can't just assume that the one person reading this (i see you! hey! thank you <3) is as familiar with the ins and outs of voralberg automatons as i am. so, let's do a synopsis.

syberia is a 2002 point-and-click game about a lawyer named kate walker, who hyperfixate on her work mission to find an old man a bit too much, while going on a train adventure with an autistic-coded automaton named oscar. hijinks ensue!

the game was designed by french developer benoît sokal (rip, king) as a follow-up to his previous game, amerzone. as a kid, i have played through all of his games i could get my hands on, but it's been a while, so i can't quite tell you how much those hold up. from what i remember, he definitely liked his adventurer protags... as well as some potentially questionable depictions of made-up indigenous people.

...let's circle back to that after syberia 2.

but yeah, while we're here, let's actually get some of my criticisms out of the way. this is a game from 2002 written by a french dude and... you could say that it's of its time among other things. for instance the man kate is looking for is mentally disabled, and the game is a bit too liberal in its use of the 'r' word to describe him. (and yes, it was considered an offensive and derogatory term in 2002 too, people were just more inclined to use it back then.)

there are other aspects of the game that one might critique as well, that i mostly find charming. the dialogue is at times clunky (almost as if it was written by someone whose native language is not english...), but the voice actors do a nice job adding character (and possibly tweaking their lines just enough) that it absolutely works on me to this day. it's a little wacky, a little silly, the puzzles sometimes require some pixel hunting, but that's just how these games work!

this one also had the cocktail puzzle, which, in my opinion, is one of the best in the entire series. it really has everything! when i become super rich, i'm going to build that cocktail machine in my house.

other highlights of the game include the big communist boi looming over you in komkolzgrad and just... any other automaton or mechanical machinery in the game. including your train, obviously.

the overall aesthetics of the game? immaculate! i want all my devices to work with a wind up mechanism now.

the one thing though that, in my opinion, truly elevates syberia over its contemporaries is its music. god, the music!!! most people might be familiar with inon zur through his scores for games like the later fallout or dragon age games, but to me, he's always gonna be the guy who went so insanely hard for this somewhat niche little adventure game series.

his score coupled with the automaton designs and the beautiful scenery? absolutely breathtaking. prettier than any modern game.

in conclusion: kate walker, call me!

EDIT: as it was just pointed out to me by @greyaged, the first syberia game was actually scored by nicholas varley and dimitri bodiansky, and only from syberia 2 onwards did inon zur become the series' main composer. needless to say that they all did a fantastic job, but i definitely want to give an extra shout out to varley and bodiansky here, now that i know that they were the ones responsible for this particular game's score. the tracks and motifs they introduce here carry over to zur's scores, and they definitely cement syberia's legacy as a game series with one of the most memorable video game soundtracks in my book. <3

[nyxofdemons]

OHHHHKAY I FINALLY WATCHED THE FIRST EPISODE OF HAZBIN ON YOUTUBE AND . HM. HM. MANY MANY THOUGHTS HEAD FULL

okay okay. please dont hate me. i was underwhelmed

LISTEN I CAN EXPLAIN. the first thing that stuck out to me was the,,,, dialogue? in some scenes its GREAT but initially i was sort of jarred by it, i feel like it's going wayyy too hard on the exposition at the cost of immersion. it just feels noticeably clunky in scenes

the SECOND thing, i both LOVE and dislike the music. i love like 65% of happy day in hell but vaggie's sudden interjection, plus the sequence where the background changes and charlie is like rolling along with all the random sinners singing felt. aghhhh i don't have a new word a lot of it just feels CLUNKY to me !! help !!!

i DO enjoy the characterization, from the get go a lot of it seems very very clear and tightly written. alastor remains my favorite character and the implications of vaggie making a deal with him have me MAJORLY intrigued i am SO curious about their dynamic in particular .

i. fucking. LOVE. ADAM. OH MY GOD HES GREAT. his speech style his outrageous personality HIS TAKEOVER OF HAPPY DAY IN HELL MADE ME SOOO EXCITED, THAT WAS THE BEST PART OF THE EPISODE TO ME. ive seen criticism of him as 'uhh the writing is so dumb and lazy if the angels behave just like the sinners' but i literally dont give a fuck he is ENTERTAINING (and if i wanted to be serious about it i COULD say something about the juxtaposition between the angels and sinners seemingly having the same brand of humor but being WILDLY different in terms of worldview and philosophy. the angels who are self-obsessed and think theyre the greatest things to ever exist vs the sinners fully embracing themselves as the WORST things to ever exist, and charlie somewhere in the middle. oooooh i just KNOW this is gonna be a whole thing for my brain to chew on)

okay okay im sure theres more i could say but . hhhh. brainworms only. i think my official stance, for right now, is that i am fully optimistic that the rest of the show is gonna be awesome, but, as for right now... i think i actually preferred the youtube pilot to this first episode. i enjoyed the set design more, the character animation more (it feels stiffer in this one?? hazbin pilot and helluva boss both have a way more BOUNCY feel to them, i think, and i just adore it; i felt like it was missing from this one a bit), and most ESPECIALLY the dialogue. i way preferred the dialogue in the pilot than in here.

i DID absolutely love the expectation subversion of adam and lilith, though. that they eagerly wanted to share the gift of free will with humanity, rather than trying to orchestrate a cataclysm on purpose. i really enjoyed that.

(also, my final note: the voice acting is... okay. to me. i feel like some of the voices are sort of forced, and no matter how good he is, i am sorry, but i can NOT reconcile that voice with husk's face and design. it just feels so jarring every time he opens his mouth like my brain is struggling to connect that that's where this voice is coming from. im sorry mr david)

[nyx-fey]

Uhhhhhhhhhh hi! hello! I'm Nyx! Welcome, and thanks for stopping by (the odd crab seems to be happy)

So uh, I recently got motivated to start posting more about my fanfictions/weird art here.

I'll be starting a more dedicated side blog soon, (one that's pretty much all robots since that what I'm obsessed with rn) and it will definitely be nsft, since I'm trying to keep everything sfw on main. So look out for that if you are only here because I've started writing about spike.

(I will talk about transformers here too, I've got a bunch of fic ideas in the works, I'm just bad about finishing them. Other than that it's mostly obscure lore and speculative biology; and also uh, about having read through like 3/4ths of the AO3 collection. It's just got a lot to compete with on main)

I'm still planning to use my main for weird insomniac rambling, and cryptid hunting, and transformers fandom- also just the rare reference to actually being a human and not like. a weird squid. (One can dream 😮‍💨)

This blog is, for the most part, SFW. But there are some exceptions. My fossilized friend may not curse, but I do. I also talk about doing adult things like drinking and eating weed. I am not excessive about it, but I'm not trying to hide it either. So if that is something you want to avoid this this is not the blog for you.

(Mostly I use sfw/nsft when talking about excessive-gore type horror, or explicit sexual material which will both get dedicated blogs with specialized 18+ only warnings. I will not be putting content of either type on my main.)

Main is definitely the best place to learn about how far along any of my projects are coming though. And I will put them here if they are sfw.

So uh, besides that, this is also the place where I primarily simp for Eldritch horrors beyond moral comprehension; pretend to be a cambrian era plectronoceras, because it makes me happy; talk about being pagan; reblog whatever cool things I find scrolling Tumblr with zero rhyme or reason; talk about my hyperfixations; be unapologetically gay; build real life robots; and garbagepost (idk the right word) at three in the morning when I can't sleep.

Use the ask box to interact with the squid guy! He wants to be friends with you 💚🐙🐚

(that's all I'm using the ask box for ATM, it brings me joy)

--LINKS--

My Twitter: Coming soon!

My AO3: Coming soon!

My Transformers side blog: Coming soon!

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

Origin of my profile pic art:

(I'll be replacing it soon though)

--About the ask box--

I will almost always be in character when answering the ask box, but that won't stop me from talking about whatever fanfiction or art I happen to be working on. (Or getting really excided about The Transformers)

Asks can range from anything regarding my creative works, discussions about fandoms, questions about the mollusk, asking about other things I'm interested in, to just giving the Squid-wizard a cool rock you found.

Since you can only have one(?) Pinned post, ask box rules will be tagged with #ask box rules please look it up before asking. (I'm sorry I know that's clunky, I'll re-type it up here soon)

--Navigation--

#3 am nonsense | absolute random garbage hopefully still fun though

#writing / #fanfiction | talking about how my writting is going or fanfiction culture

#how do drawing tablets work? | A genuine question, and also where I talk about any of my drawing ideas

#im only putting this here because i don't know where else to put it | Here as in here on Tumblr, also garbageposting but it's about real life mostly- I'm still keeping it vague because that's how I prefer it.

#eldritch horrors that give me warm fuzzy feelings | exactly what it says. Mostly Lovecraft focused. (He was beyond a terrible person- but he's dead now and I can put Cthulhu in a dress if I want to spite him.)

#uerrgh... art | things that I've drawn and posted here

#wow i actually wrote something | for when I actually finish a writting project as post it here

#video games i like | Talking about video games

#transformers / #macadams | Transformers focused posts and my current obsession

#really cool art i found / #i loved reading this | the general tags I use for stuff that's not mine but that I also really liked

#is that a cambrian-era plectronoceras? | Ask box answers, interact with squid guy

#thats right nyx is a furry | I really am! Nyx Fey has been my fursona name for years- before I decided that Nyx would just be my preferred name when online. I will also probably make a side blog about this too!

There are others but none of them are really dedicated enough to put here, I will update later if I need to. Especially as I make side blogs to try and organize things better.

I'm still relearning Tumblr so please be a little patient with me thank you 💚

[sun-marie]

"People you'd like to know better"

tag game!

I was tagged by @jespardon! Thank you for the tag, words are not really coming to me today so I apologize if this seems kinda clunky 😅

three ships : 

Gale/Tav (BG3): I’m so sorry but this pairing has me in a vice grip 😭❤ The way it just feels so organic!! And it’s so wholesome!! Like watching Zephyr (my tav) and Gale fall in love in the first two acts is simultaneously adorable and heart wrenching, and then watching them stay together through everything in act 3 is just so *clenches fist* so good!! I feel like all I do is talk about them nowadays lol

Shepard/Kaidan (ME): I’ve been thinking a lot about Kaidan recently, and good lord I love his character so much. I’m learning that I’m a big fan of relationships with a breakup or some kind of separation in the middle, only to come back with twice the devotion (fenhawke is another good example). I wasn’t here when those games were coming out since I’ve only played the LE, so I have no idea how the fandom at large see him, but his relationship with Shepard is by far the best part of ME3 for me ❤

Felix/Annette (FE3H): The ultimate comfort ship for me ❤ I love how Annette brings out Felix’s softer side, and I love how smitten he is with her. Opposites attract pairings aren’t usually my cup of tea bc I feel like it’s too easy to write two people who are just incompatible, but these two really benefit from the five year timeskip and the chance to grow with each other (even if they’re physically apart). Idk if that makes any sense, but even despite the fact that it’s been a very long time since I’ve played 3H I still get all warm and fuzzy when I see art of them or read a really good fic about them.

last film :

So I found out recently that my mom had never watched Dreamworks’ “Prince of Egypt” (which was a lie bc she definitely showed it to me as a small child and just didn’t remember), so we sat down together for an afternoon and watched it. I had forgotten how good that movie is, even if some scenes hit particularly hard due to *gestures vaguely* everything. Still to this day my favorite depiction of Moses’s story <3

currently watching :

So not technically watching currently bc I finished it a few days ago, but “Blue Eye Samurai” on Netflix 👀 I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, and at the same time I have no idea how to feel about it lol. I’m a weenie so the sex and violence was a bit much for me, but the setting and the story are so interesting, and the characters are SUPER interesting. It’s been a long time since I’ve fallen for a protagonist as hard as Mizu 💙 It almost got too much for me and I nearly dropped it, but then there was that scene with Fowler in the “church” and I was like "oh? Oh so this guy’s like evil evil? to the core? Fascinating 👀👀👀" And I stuck it out til the end! I’m glad I did, it was 100% worth it, even if I had to watch most of it through my fingers lmao.

currently reading :

I am not a huge reader, unfortunately 😅  But for my English class we just finished reading “Passing” by Nella Larsen, which I enjoyed! I don’t feel I have much to add about it, and even if I did I doubt there’d be a ton of value in the 72456456th white person throwing in their two cents on how people of color deal with the racial structure in America

currently consuming :

Baldur’s Gate 3

Coral Island

Way too much sugar (send help)(my tummy hurts)

currently craving :

Mass Effect 2

P*zza H*t thin crust Hamburger Pizza

Sopapilla Cheesecake (my main contribution to the Thanksgiving table, I'm so excited!!)

Tagging @full---ofstarlight @beyondthetower and @thefife01 ! No pressure at all tho if y'all don't feel like it 😊

[watch-out-it-bites]

Cool intro post finally

Hello there! Wlelcome to mine vent blog!! ⚠️

If you see this, you've either been following this blog and know The Horrors or The Wonders, you stumbled across it randomly and have NO IDEA what I'm talking about, or you saw I posted things pertaining to Za.p..io [I Refuse To Say The Name And Will Censor It If Possible. It's Not A Discomfort Thing, It's Just A Hiding Thing], or something else!! Who knows how you came here, I'm interested in all reasons!!

Anywho! Most people call me Bread, but my name is Miette or Woibzy! Bread is preferred, solely because I find it cute.

I am a slice of wonderbread :-)

I like cute stuff! I Collect/View dollstuff, my favorites being Lalaloopsy, Strawberry Shortcake, Polly Pocket, and My Scene! Of course there's more but. Teehee :-)

My favorite words are: Moist, Mellow, Plush, Blip, Yarn, Heart, Bump, and Lamb.

My adjectives ARE UNNECESARY. YOU DO NOT NEED THEM, and WHY DO YOU WANT THEM

My pronouns: He, That, It, Bud [They Is Okay But Not Preferred]

My age: No, Lawl :-))

My faces: :-) :-P :-D :-( >:-( 🙂🍞😡 and more!

I love: DOLLS! Drawing! Making stories! Researching! Having an obscene amount of alt accounts [Over 23 Currently. Lawl.]

I hate: Eating Fish, RABBITS, I forgot, FORGETTING

------ ? : This is a vent blog with little scraps left in the microwave and on the rug for you to only realize you're in the wrong house and I took your food and you. So. Teehee. Maybe.

What's your main: LOOKS AROUND AND RUNS AWAY VERY FASTLY

Would anyone actually ask these questions: ............. ;;-( no but I'll answer them as to raise more ;;-(

My BEST BUDDIES:

@ornithicpalliation (outlandishCriminal) @mimescantscream (Mimesy) And Literally Every follower Here Minus Crimas Because They Are The Number One FIEND On Here ..

Stuff detailing blocking tags .. Under The Cut. Also a tiny warning!

⚠️ But anywho, this blog is a vent blog!! I feel the need to say that yet again, that's actually the main reason I'm making this post! Alongside the fact that there's 10 of you here now! Wow!!

( Sorry for the clunky paragraphs, they will stay. Probably. I don't know! )

Anywho again, if you do plan on following, I suggest blocking a few tags. Aka ONE

#don't let them see this!

That is the main vent tag. It'll usually have gross or overly emotional stuff on it! I have a few other tags that aren't bad but. They're unique. ;;-) { as if i'll detail what any of them are for, lawl. you'll figure it out. maybe. who knows !! }

I get scared very easily from very dumb things! Why would I detail what they are? You'll find out eventually, or you already have!

this does have some zapio stuff. But it's not gonna be detailed or elaborate or anything like that on here. That's for - - -.

;;-)

Teehee. I go bye bye now.

[j-graysonlibrary]

The Xiang Chronicles: Book One Chapter 26

Title: The Xiang Chronicles: Book One

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 83k

Genres: Fantasy, adventure, drama, LGBT+

Available on: my website

Synopsis: Every few centuries a hero is born—one chosen by the God Tiandi to carry out his will in the mortal realm. The Xiang. Whether it is to quell a war instigated by the forces of shadow—of Shakti herself—or whether it is the miasma that poisons the world, the Xiang is born to bring the world back into balance.

Shu Pangu Min knows what his purpose is and he does his best to fulfill it even if he doesn’t fully understand all of the details. He must travel from city to city—lord to lord—to clear out the miasma. Along the way, he is to enlist the aid of four disciples. Each is to be of a different country and each must have high resonance and deep faith.

The holy men who raised him have great confidence in his future successes and they leave him to begin his journey on his own. But, can Pangu live up to the expectations of those around him? Can he really save the land like all other Xiang before him or will his unconventional methods doom them all?

Full chapter 26 under the cut

Chapter XXVI

Everyone turned to look at Kira who stared angrily at the man in front of them. So much ran through his head, mostly the frustration in knowing that his hunch about himself was correct. Up until this moment there had been no confirmation about his suspicions, just paranoid speculation.

But it had all been true.

Pangu had grown up with his mentors, told that he was Xiang and raised for the sole purpose of carrying out the mission given to him by Tiandi. Kira, however, had met a strange woman once who spoke in riddles and did something to his body.

She hadn’t told him that he would be Chaaya and she gave him no instruction. So how was he supposed to know?

“That’s impossible,” Raine said after a long silence. “Kira cannot by the Chaaya.”

“He isn’t,” the man said, “But he is a Chaaya. Neither Sha-kali nor Shakti herself can retract the power gifted unto him but Shakti did extend her hand out to me when she realized he was not going to help her.”

“You know, it’s really hard to do something for someone when that someone does not tell you that you even have a task,” Kira spat, “Not that I would have done it anyway but it would have been nice to know.”

“You killed her avatar!” the other Chaaya yelled. Kira shrugged.

“I’m sorry…” Baiya raised his hands up and turned to Kira. “Am I to believe this lunatic is actually telling the truth?”

“I am!” said lunatic responded, “He feigns confusion to remain in your good graces. For what reason, we cannot say but I will not hesitate to assassinate him as well as the rest of you.”

“You will not kill any of us,” Pangu said and took step forward. “Keep your poison behind your teeth and get on with the fight. You will see that we are not a group to be trifled with.”

Kira looked to the Xiang, surprised with how aggressive his words were. He sounded angry and he wondered if any of that anger was directed at him.

“Do you know much about the ground we are standing on, Xiang?” the man asked as he lifted his hands up. “A battle was fought here long ago. Many of the soldiers were buried where they fell.”

Just as the words left his mouth, the ground started to rumble and break apart. Bones emerged from the dirt and pulled themselves up in a clunky, almost drunken fashion. Some had rotten flesh attached to them still but others were bare, white skeletons.

But, they were not people. That meant Pangu had no restrictions on fighting them.

“My name is Bu Ziyi Don,” the man yelled out in a grandiose fashion, “I am the necromancer! I am the new Chaaya!”

Pangu threw his hands out in front of him and firmly stepped onto the ground, causing several spikes made of the earth and rock to shoot up, skewering the undead army and rendering them useless within a second. 

“Damn,” Baiya commented and then laughed, “That was easy.”

“Y-you cannot kill!” The Chaaya looked between the ‘bodies’ in horror.

“They were already dead. It does not count,” Pangu said flatly, “You should flee before I turn my back on my disciples and let them do to you what they please.”

“Kira,” Ziyi belted out and pointed to him, “Why don’t you attack me with your Chaaya powers? You must have something strong brewing in you with how much miasma you have managed to collect.”

“Is that the reason why…?” Raine asked, more to himself than anyone else but he was heard.

“I suppose so,” Kira answered, “Though I cannot say what purpose it serves.”

“You really are dim then,” the necromancer scoffed, “You absorb the miasma because if fuels the gifts given to you by Shakti. Are you telling me you have not been using it at all?”

A lot fell into place very quickly—for everyone. Not only was there an answer for why Kira could absorb the miasma easier than Pangu but Pangu also understood why the spirits were angry about how they had been doing things. They must have known that Kira was the original Chaaya and worried that he would use his abilities against him.

He also understood, more than before, the purpose for the Xiang to absorb the miasma into themselves. If it was the source of power for the Chaaya then the less of it there was available, the easier the final confrontation would be.

While they had been, technically, doing things backwards, Pangu was certain that this could actually work out better. Kira was on his side—he was his disciple no matter what the necromancer said.

Kira, meanwhile, wondered what he could do with the miasma flowing through him. If he could release it without it poisoning the land again then he would be willing to try. The obnoxious man before them was perfect target practice so he focused on the poison in his body and pushed it forward.

A black hole appeared behind Ziyi and looked almost like an entryway. He turned to face it and yelled just as it sucked him backward. His body disappeared into the darkness and the hole slowly closed until it, too, had vanished.

All eyes were on Kira again.

“What was that?” Pangu asked.

“I am not sure,” Kira answered honestly, “I just thought if I had these powers I could give it a try on him. Since he is the new Chaaya and all…or…was….”

“I do not feel any remnants of the miasma…” Pangu concentrated and extended his energies far out around them. “No…whatever you did was not enough to release it back into the air.”

“Good. I was hoping not.”

“I am still very confused,” Baiya stated and scratched the back of his head. “You’ve been the Chaaya this whole time?”

“No,” Raine answered him, “Kira might have been one before but the second he became Pangu’s disciple, he left the title behind. He cannot be both.”

“I agree,” Pangu said, “But I do wonder how you acquired these abilities, Kira.”

The man frowned and shook his head. “When we make camp, I’ll tell you what I remember.”

No one argued that since they were all quite eager to get back on the road and leave the skewered skeletons in the woods behind. The rest of the trip was quiet, even as they set up camp on an old pilgrimage campsite. Some of the amenities were still present which always made things easier.

Pangu and Raine worked together on making dinner while Kira stood on a rock and looked out across the trees. Baiya slowly walked up behind him.

“You aren’t thinking of running, are you?”

Kira turned to face him and scoffed. “I’m not that pathetic. No…I intend to explain myself. Even if I have some confusion about this story as well.”

The other man nodded, patted him on the shoulder, and then joined the two by the fire.

After meals were passed around, Kira cleared his throat. “I’m afraid this story probably won’t answer many questions but I’ll try my best.”

“You have the floor,” Raine said, eager to hear what happened—if it was as damning as the necromancer suggested. He doubted it, personally. If he had found this out at the beginning of their journey, he would have turned on Kira immediately but now he knew the man could be trusted.

He also knew if the situation was reversed and he was revealed to be the Chaaya then Kira would be on his side.

“As I mentioned before, after I ran away from my mother, I joined the military,” Kira started, “It was actually fine for quite a while. I excelled at the drills and I was being fed on a regular basis…good stuff. But, some of my fellow soldiers started to become…I don’t know if I would say jealous but they were not happy with the praise I was receiving from our commanding officer.”

“They were jealous then,” Pangu insisted.

“…Sure, anyway, I guess they did some research on me somehow or came across someone from my past because they confronted me with it.” Kira looked down as he spoke. “They attacked me in a way I thought I had forever escaped from. And I fled into the woods to avoid them. It was there that I met this strange woman who talked in a weird way. She asked me about my anger and hatred which, at the time, I was feeling a lot of. When I agreed that, yes, I did want to take revenge on those soldiers, she touched her hand to my chest and it burned. I pushed her off but, in the process, something came out of me and she…sort of exploded?”

“The miasma, I guess?” Baiya tried to make sense of it.

Kira shrugged. “I had no idea. I just went back to my barracks and when those men started to try and attack me again, I killed them all. And then I got really sick for a while and I stayed low as I hid from the military. I never truly felt like I did before that night but I was able to move around and fight so I started going from town to town, getting money any way I could. Then I met you two.” He pointed at Raine and Pangu.

“That’s it?” Raine asked. “The woman just gave you the abilities of a Chaaya and said nothing?”

“I did kill her before she could tell me anything ,” Kira stated, “but still, she could have sent someone else after me to explain the situation. I never saw or heard from Shakti or any of her servants.”

“Perhaps they thought you would make decisions in their best interest without instruction,” Pangu guessed, “Considering your mental state on that night, she incorrectly assumed that you would be an agent of chaos and spread miasma on your own without help.”

“I did do some pretty…not great stuff but I was never as low as that night so…” Kira frowned. “I really did not know for sure that I was supposed to be the Chaaya. I had concerns with the whole miasma thing but I had nothing solid to link it to.”

Pangu smiled and reached over to hold his hand. “I believe you.”

“As long as you are not hiding any other big secrets, I can forgive this,” Raine said.

Kira looked at the tall man and their first meeting from years ago played in his head. “No. No other big secrets.”

“Maybe you should practice your miasma powers too,” Baiya suggested, “So long as it doesn’t re-enter the air then it will serve to free you of some of the poison, right?”

“Possibly,” Kira said, still unsure about how everything worked. He certainly wouldn’t be getting an explanation out of Shakti or one of her mistresses of shadow now.

“Be very careful if you do,” Pangu warned, “the spirits are already anxious about our methods. This could anger both Tiandi and Shakti so we should be smart about it.”

They all nodded and agreed. It almost felt like they were making their own separate, third group. A Xiang and Chaaya working together was unheard of but Pangu felt they might be able to save the world easier this way. He couldn’t be sure of course, but he was absolutely confident, now more than ever, that he had made the right choice in picking Kira.

***

Sun-Shi city was looking worse for wear. Still not as bad as Xiao but there was visible miasma coating the air. A few caravans full of people passed them by as they approached. One man even hung over the side of the wagon and warned them, “Do not enter Sun-Shi. Hope has died there!”

Pangu raised his brow and just waved a little. “Thanks but we must.”

“Save yourselves!” he shouted but the wind carried his words away.

“Well that is rather foreboding,” Baiya commented.

“It was not in great shape when we left,” Raine mentioned. “It seems to have worsened.”

“I am sure the good Lord Lao has plenty more people to blame for it as well,” Kira added.

Pangu hated to agree with them but they were right. He was not looking forward to seeing Lord Lao again—especially not after meeting so many kind and strong leaders throughout Agni.

The guards by the palace gates gave the Xiang’s group a mixture of looks. Some seemed irritated by them and others looked worried. Neither expression was a good sign.

Pangu tried to calm himself as he walked inside. Lord Lao sat on his throne languidly but quickly sat up straight once he noticed them entering.

“Xiang! Where have you been?!”

“Agni, your lordship,” he answered evenly.

“Agni—? Did you decide to stay after taking care of the Phay’s?”

“I did,” he said and quickly explained, “The miasma situation in Agni was severe; I had to care for it immediately.”

Lao jumped to his feet. “What about my situation? Can you not see that we are suffering here?! Can you not see that people are fleeing my city?!”

“I can.”

“Then do something!”

Pangu bit down on his tongue for a second. “I can do a ceremony tonight.”

Lord Lao pointed at him. “You do a ceremony right now.”

He looked from the Lord to Kira who subtly nodded. “Alright. Now.”

It was the most shoddily put together ceremony to date but Pangu did not care much so long as Lao stopped being so angry. Kira seemed like he was ready so Pangu danced as long as he needed to.

As the air started to clear, a crowd began to form. No one knew a ceremony was happening since they were just pushed into it so no one was preemptively gathered. But, by the end of the dance, many people stood around, cheering.

Lord Lao joined Pangu on the stage and clapped his hands while wearing a huge smile, acting as if they were the best of friends. “Thank Tiandi. My city is saved.”

“You must work on meeting the needs of your people now,” Pangu responded, thinly veiling his insult.

“But you can still help me,” the Lord said and grabbed his arm, “You must. For if you don’t, more miasma will come.”

Thankfully, his disciples joined him as well. Kira pulled Pangu away from the man and asked, “What task would you ask of the Xiang now?”

“He is already busy doing Tiandi’s work, I hope you are aware,” Raine added.

“This is still Tiandi’s work,” Lord Lao insisted, “Besides, you will already need to visit the capital city anyway. I just need you to know that the man in charge is a despot and must be removed from power. His position is one that I should rightly have but he stole it from me and the rest of our family.”

“This sounds political,” Baiya pointed out. It also sounded like bullshit but he kept that bit to himself.

“It does,” Pangu agreed, “And you already know I cannot interfere in politics, your lordship.”

“It is not just politics,” he hissed, “My nephew is destroying this country. You will see when you get to Ultimos, I promise. Just do not be ensnared by his silver tongue or all of us are doomed.”

“We should be going,” Baiya said, placing himself between the Lord and the Xiang.

“I will keep an eye out,” Pangu said, “But you are well aware of my top priority.”

“Fine but I guarantee that you will change your tune when you arrive there,” Lao made sure he had the last word before finally leaving them be.

“That man is unbearable,” Kira muttered once they were away from him. Pangu couldn’t help but chuckle. He honestly felt the same.

“I hope we do not have to come back here,” Raine said.

“I told you this place was awful,” Kira responded.

“Shall we head out then? Or should we stay the night here?” Baiya asked, looking mainly to Pangu.

“I think I would rather sleep out on the road,” the Xiang answered and his disciples laughed.

[gold-andgranite]

sweet disaster // the notes + the prologue

hey y’all! ever since finding the tgm community here on tumblr earlier this summer I’ve had a little idea floating around I just couldn’t let go of. after incubating said idea (read: storyboarding and note taking/ visualizing scenes as I’m driving/ having hot girl backyard time/ while washing dishes/ as I am folding laundry/ etc. etc. etc.), I got a first little prologue-y type chapter written up! I have a vague idea of where this fic is headed but I’m allowing myself the creative freedom to not have anything super nailed down yet, and instead just letting this little world evolve however it will. we will find out together! I have missed writing lately, and even though most of my writing over the years has been either academic or free verse poetry, I’m excited to give prose a try! 

a bit of housekeeping: I wrote this initial bit as a second person pov but with a named character (we are JJ). it’s what felt the most comfortable to write, but if it really weirds all y’all out, I’d be willing to accept that constructive criticism and switch to a different pov. I want us to feel immersed, but if it gets clunky (especially with, perhaps, pov changes later on) then I’m willing to change the pov, and that would include tweaking this chapter as well post-posting. 

as far as warnings go? each chapter will have chapter-specific warnings, as needed, but overall this story will touch on mental health issues, a bit of angst, some smut down the road, language, military inaccuracies, etc. basically the usual warnings for most fics on here -- like I said, I will update those warnings for each chapter as they arise. we’re starting off super mellow with just a slight language warning for this teaser trailer appetizer thing. 

okay! I think that about does it for now! I’m really excited to go on this journey with y’all!

-- goldi 

“JJ, come ON! You have nothing else going on today! You’re taking a day off from working out, you went grocery shopping yesterday, and I know you’re not working later today, either.” She ticks the reasons off on her fingers before throwing a particular withering look your way, dropping her chin to really send the point home. You inhale sharply, lowering the coffee mug from your lips, counterpoints halfway off your tongue, already feeling the words in your mouth – but, well, fuck. As your best friend, roommate, and coworker – you didn’t have counterpoints. And she knew it, fighting her smile at first, being a good sport about it, but you both knew her eyes were twinkling with excitement.

“Okay. Okay.” You put your hands up in surrender, laughing now, as she squeals and rushes forward to throw her arms around you.

“Yay! Yay! Emi said yes, too! I promise, J, it’s gonna be fun. We’ll have fun! It’s something different! And . . .” she smirks, really going heavy on the whole “devil in the angel’s eyes” thing. “I wanna go support our troops, you know?”

At that, you roll your eyes. “Really, Kennedy? This still?”

“YES.” She held your shoulders in her hands, staring directly into your soul. “JJ. My last date was a fuckin’ trainwreck. I can’t do it anymore! I don’t wanna keep sifting through shitty profiles on my phone only to get a go on a lukewarm-at-best, somebody-sedate-me at worst date!!” She’s graduated to shaking your shoulders, a quarter laughing but three quarters serious. Parker, the most recent online dating disaster, was a pretty bad date for her, you knew that – beginning with when he honked and texted “here” to come pick Kennedy up. She hates that shit – you all do, of course. The group chat went feral over that one. 

“I know, Ken. I’m sorry. I’ll go, okay? I’ll be your wingwoman, if you need. I just – I really don’t want you to get hurt, okay? You’ve had your fair share of shitbags, and –”

“JJ, god, I’m not looking for anything serious! This is an attempt at streamlined efficiency more than anything else,” she giggles. “I just wanna go spend my afternoon looking confused at an air show, take in the beauty of the United States military machine” – cue eye roll – “flirt with as many men as possible, and see how many numbers I can get. We’ll be like those women in the USO in the forties! It’s really your patriotic duty, J.”

“My patriotic duty?? USO? Jesus, Ken –” you break off, fully cackling now, coffee set down on the counter a safe distance from where you’re gripping the counter bent over laughing. “Should we bring little American flags to hand out, too?”

That catches her off guard. “I mean . . . I think I’m covered on the tiny flag front . . .” The mischief glints in her eyes over a knowing smile, a language in which only best friends are fluent.

“KENNEDY!” You gasp, pretending to be scandalized. Your best friend could kill a man without laying a single finger on him, you know this, but her penchant for flair still caught you off guard at times. “You are NOT wearing your stars and stripes undies to this air show! I thought you were just getting phone numbers!” 

Kennedy sighs, planting her hands on her hips. “Ohh, but I am, J. I am.” She passes by you, patting your back. “We leave in an hour! Emi is meeting us there!” she sings as she glides down the hallway. “It’s gonna be fuuuuuuuun! You’re gonna have fun, JJ!!”

You turn back to your coffee, threading your fingers through the handle, shaking your head at Kennedy’s antics. You knew she was right; if all you did today was watch your best friend flirt with men in uniform, narrating the encounters documentary-style with Emi, then it’d be worth it. 

Memorable, at the very least.

[delfiore]

the principles of pleasure

pairing: rhaenyra targaryen x fem!martell!reader

synopsis: the princess learns to give in to her desires with an envoy from dorne.

word count: 1.9k

warnings: some spicy stuff but no actual smut

a/n: ik i said no incest but there wILL BE A SLIGHT MENTION of the deed that rhaenyra and daemon did in that brothel because it’s essential to the plot 🧍‍♀️

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You stood out like a sore thumb.

They say a star would sooner fall upon the earth before a Dornishman set foot into the capital. Yet, here you were.

Despite whispers and chatters of the surrounding lords and ladies—clearly aimed at you—you never bat an eye. Instead, your eyes found Rhaenyra’s across the courtyard, as she tried her best to mingle with her family.

As if you read her mind, with a calculated steadiness, you made your way over to where she was.

“Princess Y/N,” Daemon said, his eyes hard and defensive, “welcome to the capital.”

She didn’t miss the animosity. Her uncle had just returned from Stepstones after all, and from what she gathered listening in at the Small Council, the Martells sided with the Triarchy, against him.

“Your Graces,” you bowed, “It is exciting to see the city again. My brother Qoren sends his regards.”

“Now that the war is over, I trust that our two houses will find common ground. You are most welcome to stay for as long as you like, Princess.” Viserys said.

“Yes, you must,” Daemon inferred.

“I thank you for your hospitality, your Grace.”

“May I introduce the Queen, Lady Alicent of House Hightower, and my daughter, the Crown Princess, Rhaenyra,” The King gestured towards the girls.

“Your Grace, Princess,” you smiled, “all the tales of your beauty truly do you no justice.”

At this, Rhaenyra let out a small laugh, heat creeping up her neck at your blatant compliment. She didn’t notice the way Daemon flit his eyes between you and her menacingly, nor the way Alicent looked to the ground at her hands.

“May I show Y/N the new tapestries?” Rhaenyra inquired, swallowing thickly.

Her father laughed. “Darling, Princess Y/N must be no stranger to tapestries, don’t you think she might find them a bit dull?”

“It’s alright, your Grace. I’d love to see them,” you then turned to Rhaenyra, and gestured for her to lead the way. “After you, my Princess.”

The words rolled off your tongue like silk. Rhaenyra found herself in a pit. There was something charming about you, and soon she found herself entranced, though you’ve only just spoken to her.

You had walked in silence beside you in the thick of the West garden when she suddenly spoke. “Do you like poetry, Y/N?”

“Poetry, songs, I enjoy them all.” You glided your hand over a big leaf. “We were raised to love art, my brother and I. My mother, in particular, told us that without it, there is no pleasure in life.”

“Pleasure can be found in many things.” Rhaenyra countered.

“Yes, it can be,” you raised your hand to show her. “This ring was gifted to me by my mother. It was given to her by her mother, and to her by her mother before.”

A clunky, golden ring adorned your middle finger, but no less beautiful. Engraved on it was the sigil of your house, a sun pierced by a spear.

She only noticed that she was holding your hand to admire it, when you flexed your fingers and the friction of it startled her. She pulled away quickly, averting your amused eyes.

“Is your mother in Sunspear?”

“My mother has passed on,” you smiled sadly.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Which is why I was saddened to hear of the news of Queen Aemma’s passing, for she was a mother as much as she was a queen.”

“Thank you,” Rhaenyra said, brushing over her fingers where they had touched you. “The realm seems to have moved on rather quickly from her ever since my half-brother was born.”

“History has a tendency to discard women the moment they don’t benefit the succession line, doesn’t it?”

“When I am Queen, I will make a new order.” The princess stated, “and they will have no choice but to obey.”

“I have no doubt that you will,” your voice softened, like a prayer, before you tenderly brought her fingers to your lips to kiss them. “It’s about time this country sees some changes.

“You must excuse me, then. I have some business I must attend to. The tapestries were lovely,” you bowed, and then you were gone.

You didn’t look at the tapestries at all.

Daemon was apprehensive when she returned, but the princess was too dazed to care. An arrow had struck her heart, and no remedy could cure her of Meleys’ grasp.

The prospect of her marriage was looming over her like a dark cloud. Daemon told her all the things that people do when they’re not stuck in a loveless marriage, and she thought about you. She had never been to Dorne, but she’s heard stories. She wondered if the Dornish were any happier than people like her.

“Y/N Martell,” Daemon asked her in Valyrian, “what do you think of her?”

“I think she’s very charming.” It took weight of her to say. “I’m sure that she would find many suitors of her liking. Men would flock to see her.”

“Men and women alike,” her uncle corrected her. “The Martells have been known to act upon their carnal desires, whether it be with men or women.”

“You think Y/N—No, it can’t be.”

“Can it?” Daemon raised a knowing eyebrow.

That night he smuggled her out of the Red Keep, into the city of the smallfolk, where she saw for the first time how the people lived. She saw mothers breastfeeding their babes on the streets, vendors selling foods and goods that would barely keep them alive past dawn, fools and jesters and actors guising as royalty, mocking her to entertain others.

He took her to a pleasure house, where she saw people fuck for the pleasure of it, no marriage nor the intention of procreation attached. She saw pleasure and desire in Daemon’s eyes when he circled her like a hawk, and kissed her against a wall. Yet, Daemon refused to go further and left her there.

When she opened her eyes again, she thought she saw you, in the back behind a veil, naked between a man and a woman. She knew she wasn’t imagining it when you opened your own eyes, and held her gaze as the man descended between your legs.

Fucking is a pleasure, her uncle told her.

Rhaenyra saw what she saw at the brothel again in her dreams, yet instead of her and Daemon, she saw you, she felt you embracing her, staring into her eyes with that fiery gaze of yours.

The princess had never known bodily pleasure, but she thought she might have felt it with you. She remembered the tenderness of your touch, the weight of your body on hers, the taste of you. She awoke the next morning frustrated as her bed was empty and her mind clouded with impure thoughts of you.

She had been in the gardens the next morning when she saw you. Her heart dropped as she quickly hid behind a tall column. The visions of you still fresh in her mind, and yet you were only sitting on a bench reading. She could hardly believe that you were there at the brothel too, and now here you were.

“Princess? Is that you?”

“Seven Hells,” she muttered, and came out of hiding.

You gave her a warm smile, and beckoned her to sit next to you.

“What are you reading?”

“Poetry from Dorne, dating back to the Age of Nymeria.” You pointed to the page you were reading, “this one in particular is a love letter from a noble woman to her lover, who was also her handmaiden.”

Rhaenyra knew you were watching her for any type of hostility, but in truth, there wasn’t. Instead, she leaned closer to you to read the words.

“Someone, I tell you, will remember us, even in another time.”

“I can’t imagine how lonely they must have felt,” she said, “not being able to show their love.”

“Yes,” you smiled sadly. “I imagine Your Grace also feels certain impediments to do so yourself, as a princess with certain duties to your realm?”

“What about you, Princess Y/N? Do you feel these impediments? Or do you act upon your desires as you please?”

You smiled, but there was an edge to it, almost like a smirk, like you were daring her to ask about last night. Rhaenyra held your gaze, despite how much she wanted to look away because of how nervous you made her.

“I find it easier to separate duty from pleasure than most people in the realm,” you said, ��some people don’t have that luxury. But like a keg of wine, the more you fill it up, the more it spills.”

You grasped her hand softly, just tight enough so that if she wanted to pull away, she could have. She let her thumb brush over the back of your hand, feeling the smoothness of the skin that had been rough with somebody else the night before. Rhaenyra wished it was her.

The clanking of armor pulled her out of it, and made her retract her hand.

“The Small Council meeting is about to begin, Princess,” Ser Criston announced.

Rhaenyra closed her eyes, duty awaited. But you never took your eyes of her. She excused herself anyway, and left without another word nor another glance, afraid she wouldn’t be able to leave if she did.

The hour of the owl came, yet Rhaenyra was still wide awake. A breeze crept through her chambers, caressing her skin and raised goosebumps. She sighed, wishing it was you. No matter how hard she tried, all she could see was you.

She sprung out of bed, hastily throwing on her nightrobe. Ser Criston had left an hour before, leaving her door empty, and she quietly made her way across the castle. Long gone were the days of hopeless longing, she was grown now. If she were to be Queen, she would take what she wanted.

You opened the door without hesitation, a soft smile on your face illuminated by candlelight.

“You’re still awake.”

“I was waiting for you,” you spoke softly.

Feeling bold, she pushed forwards, through the door, and you took a step back. She did it again, and you let her.

Her hand then crept along the hem of your gown, feeling the fabric before pulling it loose.

She was too nervous to meet your eyes. You, on the other hand, watched her tentatively, but made no sudden move lest you startled the princess.

Wordlessly, Rhaenyra leaned up to kiss you deeply, her eyes shut tight. She was no longer a princess, she was just a girl, infatuated with you.

“What do you want, Princess?” You asked softly, holding her waist endearingly.

“Show me what pleasure feels like.” Her breath warmed your neck as she spoke. “I want you.”

You undressed her, slowly; you wanted to savor it. But you had desired her the moment you laid eyes on her, and when her left breast peaked through her gown, you let out a low groan, and picked her up around your waist.

The Targaryen princess was all you tasted. Her mind was hazy, her chest warm, and her cheek pressed against your own bare chest.

The morning sun peaked through the window, daybreak. She had duties, she was a Princess.

Rhaenyra slipped away from your embrace, carefully so as notnto wake you, and took a piece of parchment paper on your desk and a quill to write with.

“I’ll see you again tonight,” she wrote.

The princess then slipped out the door and back to her room before Ser Criston could figure out that she was ever gone.

[gguksgalaxy]

Stranded | JJK | E2L

Jungkook’s offer to help you study for your exam is unwelcome. His entire presence is unwelcome. You don’t want help from the guy who passes all his classes without even trying. It’s annoying — he is annoying. From the way he grins whenever he catches you staring at him, to the way his eyes shine whenever he smiles at you. Oh, and let’s not forget the way his tattoos shift when he stretches or the way his jawline sharpens when he’s focused. Nope, you definitely can’t stand him.

›› AU: Enemies to lovers, fuck/badboy!Jungkook ›› Genre: Fluff / Smut / Angst ›› Rating: NC-17 (explicit sexual content, 18+) ›› Pairing: JJK x Reader ›› Word Count: 13k ›› Jungkook Snuggle Drabbles. Warnings Include: A lot of swearing, heavy themes of miscommunication and strong judgements, Jungkook sleeps around a lot, university related stress, brief mention of past underage drinking, emotional and romantic angst, argument, the desecration of a mug.  Sexual content: Protected sex, blowjob, cunnilingus, face sitting/riding.

A/N: This one's for you @fallinforkoo I hope that you like it!! This is not something I would usually write but the idea popped up when seeing the request so here she is! A little cliché but I hope it's original enough. Let me know what you guys think!

“As your best friend,” Taehyung says sheepishly over the phone, “I really need you to do me a favour.”

You groan, leaning your head over the edge of the bed. “I don’t like where this is going.”

He hums. He doesn’t even laugh. There’s just a brief silence before he asks you the impossible. “I need you to invite Jungkook for the get-together on Friday.”

“Absolutely fucking not,” you spit. “Taehyung, my best friend, the platonic love of my life. I will do anything for you. Literally anything. I would suck your toes if you asked me, but I won’t do that.”

Now he laughs, loud and deep. It only makes you sulk more. Inviting Jeon Jungkook into your humble abode? To have him walk around with that smug���and delectably gorgeous—grin on his face as he finds something to make fun of? Not over your dead body. Not in a million years.

“Please, do it for me.”

You vigorously shake your head. “I don’t see how I would be doing you a favour by inviting him. You don’t even like him!”

“I mean...I really don’t mind him. But I like Jimin, a lot, and I feel bad for excluding his friend all the time, it’s starting to get weird. Can’t you just invite him over? I promise you won’t have to talk to him.”

Oh, but you do. Because Jungkook always manages to weasel under your skin and get you worked up to a point where you just have to say something. It’s not your fault that he’s such an ass. He just rubs you all the wrong ways. “I am in a constant state of wanting to rip his head off. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Jungkook is just so...You really cannot stand him. First of all, he doesn’t study. All he does is party and sleep around with random girls. Yet, he still somehow manages to be at the top of the class. Secondly, he’s a dick. He has no respect for both his elders and you. Any chance he gets he will make fun of you or blatantly insult you. And lastly, he looks too good and he knows it. Walking around campus just basking in the attention from all the girls, and guys, who want him despite his reputation.

Taehyung snorts. “If I were you, I would be more worried that you’re in a constant state of wanting to suck his dick.”

“I’d rather snap his dick in half.” Sometimes you wonder why you’re friends with Taehyung. After all, he’s the one who told Jimin to bring along his friend. Now, you’re regularly exposed to Jeon Jungkook’s incessant flirting with anything that breathes, constant whining about just about everything, and complete lack of personal space. Taehyung had been certain that if you got to know Jungkook outside of class, it would make you more amicable towards each other. However, it’s only made it worse.

“You know, sometimes people lie about something so often that they start to feel like it’s the truth.”

You roll your eyes, sitting up on the bed. It’s noon already. You really should be studying for your Psychology of Law exam. Also known as the course from hell. As a law student, you really can’t make sense of the material. All the mumbling about internal thought processes and stressors has your mind logging off. You’re chapters behind. You don’t even know where to start. Because unlike a certain someone, you actually have to study. Even with all-nighters, thorough summaries, and flashcards, you’ve still managed to fail quite a few classes. The future of your law degree literally balances on this one class. If you fail, you lose your scholarship.

“Are you still with me?”  Taehyung asks.

“Yeah, I’m just considering defenestrating myself. Anything better than studying for psych.”

“Even inviting Jungkook?”

“Anything but that.”  It’s not like Taehyung is completely wrong. Jungkook looks like a model when he actually decides to groom himself instead of showing up to class in sweats and uncombed hair. You’re way too aware that he works out five days a week. Or that he’s got tats lining his arm, intricate designs that—No. You’re not falling down this hole today.

Taehyung’s typing something up, probably studying for his own exams. “I will let you study then. Just please, invite him over. I will forever be in your debt. Be the better person.”

The sweet lining to Taehyung’s plea actually manages to work for once. He’s your best friend, after all. He would probably do the same thing for you. It’s just not that fun to be around Jungkook when part of you—as much as you may deny it—feels some type of way about him.

“I will consider it.”

“That’s not a no.”

“Don’t make me change it back to a no, Kim.”

He chuckles. “Someday, you will thank me. That day being the one when you finally come to terms with your feelings.”

“Bye, Taehyung,” you grumble, ending the call and throwing the phone down on the duvet.

So yes, maybe you do have a thing for Jungkook. Doesn’t make him any less annoying. If anything, it makes him even more insufferable. Why did you have to develop a weird crush on a guy you can’t even stand? The world doesn’t have to be cruel like that. But here you are. Not that it matters. Jungkook would sleep with just about any girl but you. Which says more about them.

Reluctantly, you get up and grab your books from your desk. Studying is easier in the living room, away from distractions.

Your peace doesn’t last long. Not even halfway through your first coffee, your doorbell rings.

Groaning, you get up and prepare your best ‘no I don’t want to buy whatever you’re selling’ face. Upon unlocking the door, that face falters.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you spit out the moment you see Jungkook’s big doe eyes. He’s standing on your doorstep like he’s supposed to be here. With his backpack nonchalantly slung over one shoulder.

He looks past you, into your apartment. “Oh, you started studying for psych?”

Your living room is a mess. “Well, I was trying to start, but I’ve been rudely interrupted by someone who has no invitation to be here.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m here to make sure that you don’t fail another class and have to drop out.” Like he owns the place, he pushes past you and waltzes inside. He drops his backpack and readjusts his baseball cap, showing off his forehead and chocolate brown hair. It’s really starting to get long.

“I don’t need your help.” There’s no way he’s here just to help you study. And even if he was, he’s just going to distract you. You’re not friends. He must have some ulterior motive for being here. Jeon Jungkook doesn’t study, let alone help people study. Not to your knowledge at least. “I can manage just fine on my own.”

He grabs his laptop from his bag. “What part of ‘having to drop out if you fail another class’ did you not understand?” He puts the device down and gets comfortable on your couch. As if he’s done it before.

You cross your arms over your chest. “Who told you about that?”

He shrugs. “Jimin mentioned it, he must have it from Taehyung. Does it really matter?”

“Yes, it matters,” you sneer. “I didn’t ask you to be here. I don’t want you to be here. There’s no way I’m going to get anything done with you around. Get the fuck out.” You point a finger at the door, waiting for him to leave. “Do you not hear me?”

“Oh, I heard you. I’m just waiting for you to get over yourself and realise that you actually need my help.”

“I don’t.”

“Can you tell me the difference between compliance and suggestion in the context of a police hearing?” he questions, leaning back and propping his clunky boot-clad feet onto the table.

You press your lips together in a thin line, thinking about a possible answer.

He grins. “Any idea what the Reid Technique is and why it is or isn’t ethical?”

“No,” you grumble.

“You know what the pros and cons are of an Oslo style eyewitness lineup?”

You shake your head, dropping your arms in defeat. He’s got you. You don’t know anything. Maybe you do need his help. As long as he tries to be nice, you can give him the benefit of the doubt. Another year of your degree is definitely worth it.

Jungkook pats the spot on the couch beside him. “Let’s get started, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover if we want to get you a good grade.”

And so you get to work. Jungkook makes himself a little too comfortable in your home. Aside from pulling out his flashcards, multiple summaries and annotated materials, he actually slips into the kitchen to make tea. He raids your pantry for snacks and pulls out your blanket from under the table.

“What?” He says, mouth stuffed with gummy bears while he unfolds the blanket. “I’m sorry, but your apartment is really fucking cold. Since you’re dressed as if you’re going to the North Pole, I assumed the radiator must be broken.”

“It has been almost a week now. My landlord is being an ass about it. Also, I’m wearing normal clothes that normal people wear when it’s cold outside. Unlike you, with your short-sleeves and thin coat.”

“It’s October.”

“It’s nine degrees outside. You’re insane.”

“No,” he says, sitting back down with the blanket around his shoulders. “I’m just hot.”

A reluctant smile pulls at your lips. Why must you betray yourself?

He leans in close, inspecting your face. “I can’t believe I lived to see the day. You actually smiled at one of my jokes.”

If he’s good at one thing, it’s definitely proving that he’s an annoying shit. “I’m laughing at how pathetic you are.”

“At least I’m not the one who tried to hide her smile.”

“And I’m not the one who forced his way into this apartment. I’d watch out, some people might start to think you actually like being around me.” You turn back towards his laptop, scrolling through the document to the next topic. Police hearings.

Jungkook puts his hand down behind you so he can get closer—too close—and look over your shoulder. “Maybe,” he whispers, “I do like spending time with you.”

You whip your head around so fast you nearly knock heads with him. He doesn’t move. Both your noses basically touching. At this proximity you can see all the fine details in his skin. The flecks of lighter brown in his eyes that really do shine. The moles on his nose, the scar on his cheek.

“Nah.” He pulls away. “I’m just messing with you. I still don’t like you.”

What on earth did you do to make him come over here? If he dislikes you so much, he shouldn’t have bothered. You’re not a charity case. “If you’d just let me fail, you wouldn’t have to put up with me again.”

He tuts. “Where’s the fun in that? I’d honestly miss your bad comebacks and petty remarks.”

“Excuse me, my comebacks are not bad?”

“They’re mediocre at best, ma’am,” he laughs, grin showing the fullness of his cheeks that make him look deceptively cute.

You shiver at the thought. He’s a lot of things, but he’s not cute. Yes, he’s probably a good guy deep down, but he’s not cute. Jeon Jungkook is and always will be an annoying, self-entitled, arrogant brat. Nothing is going to change your mind. Not even the way your heart beats faster from just having him so close.

“Don’t ‘ma’am’ me,” you bite.

“I’m not even going to give you any points for that. You didn’t even try!” He makes an exasperated gesture as he grabs another handful of gummies.

‘Childish’ should be added to the list. “Are you here to help me study or not?”

Jungkook nods, sitting cross-legged. “Just so I get to bother you for another year.”

The two of you get back to work. He takes you through a very detailed and too dramatic explanation of the Reid technique. You find yourself captivated by how passionate he seems. He sure does know a lot about the subject.

Jungkook turns out to be a very active talker. He makes very detailed descriptions and uses his hands to explain things. It’s easy to understand him, but it’s way harder to memorise it. As the material gets more complicated, he gets more serious and you start to lose track. His frown deepens, dimple-like creases appearing in his cheek that make him look sharper and older. You can’t help but stare.

He’s so handsome. The tattoos that circle around his left arm shift as he speaks. The same way that his earrings dangle as he moves. You get caught up in him, the way he talks, the passion that rolls off him in waves.

“Are you gawking at me?”  He says, stopping his movements mid-air.

Cheeks flushed, you try to come up with a smart reply. “I was thinking whether your head has always looked this big.”

His lips pull into a straight line. “I’m here trying to do my best to explain to you what the difference is between an Oslo confrontation and a sequential lineup, and you’re worried about the size of my fucking head?”

“I mean, it’s awfully big, no?”  You poke his forehead.

He grabs your wrist in return, pulling your body towards him. “Can you at least try to appreciate my effort?”

“I’m listening!”

Wetting his lips, he arches an eyebrow. “Explain the difference to me.”

Well, you weren’t listening that intently. “Uh, a sequential lineup has a lower chance of causing false positives.”

“That’s the last sentence I said, you can do better.” He lets go of you so you can lean back. For a second, he actually seems pissed off. Maybe you should try, he’s doing his best after all. It’s just hard when he’s here looking this good.

“Oslo confrontations feature the suspects in a lineup at the same time, whereas a sequential lineup shows them one by one.” That’s all you got.

“Well,” he says, throwing you a gummy from the bag. “You got one point out of five.”

Treat halfway to your mouth, you stop. “One?!”

He nods. “And I’m being generous with you. First of all, you cannot call them suspects, they’re candidates or possible suspects. There’s usually only one suspect and the rest are actors who look like the suspect. You also missed the part where, during the sequential lineup, the witness doesn’t get to see all the suspects. Once they pick the one they think is the perpetrator, they will not get to see the additional candidates.”  Why does this sound so hot when he says it?

God, you’re going insane. “Well, I’ll try to remember that and the seven-hundred other things you said. All the blabbering you do makes it really hard.”  It comes out harsher than you intended. From the way Jungkook stays silent, you know it must’ve hit home.

He gets up, making your heart sink. “I think it’s time for a break. You’re getting frustrated. Do you want to order pizza?”

“I don’t recall asking you to stay over for dinner.”

Jungkook takes a long, deep breath, closing his eyes. You can feel the anger build up. “Listen, I’m here to help you. The least you can do is fucking appreciate it. Be stubborn all you want, but you need this. You want a shot at this degree. I’m here, because as much as I can’t stand you, I won’t enjoy watching you get kicked off the entire program because you’re struggling with the material.”  There’s a heavy pause. You let his words sink in. The level of concern is surprising. It’s sweet. “So do you want to order pizza or not? Because I’m starving.”

You nod. “Pizza sounds good.”

The tension ebs away after that. Jungkook goes into the kitchen and comes back with a mug filled with milk, of all things. You bite your tongue.

“I want pineapple on my pizza,” he says.

Pausing, you raise your eyebrows. “You cannot be serious.”

“Depends. How much do you hate pineapple?” His shit eating grin returned like it was never gone. It gives him away.

Narrowing your eyes at him, you speak; “So, double pineapple for you?”

Suddenly, his face falters. “Whoa, you can’t actually do that to me.”

“You’re the one who said he likes pineapple!”

“It was a joke. No person in their right mind would put fruit on their pizza.”  He sits next to you, taking another sip of his milk. “I’m really not picky though, but the one with the jalapenos is good. Or the chili chicken.”  Jungkook scoots closer so he can scroll through the menu on your phone, hand brushing against yours.

This way, you get a clear view of the rose tattoo on his hand. It’s beautiful, detailed but still in a traditional style. It suits him, as do his other tattoos. Though this one has always stood out to you.

“I’m just going to get pepperoni,” you say after a while.

Jungkook sighs, then turns his head to whisper in your ear; “Boring.”

Startled, you shove him so hard he falls onto his back. “Don’t be such a child. I’m not going to make you eat it.”

When he sits back up, his shirt rises and reveals the edge of a narrow, toned waist. You look away, focusing on actually ordering the pizza. Jungkook really doesn’t have to be so casually attractive. He’s not even trying and you can’t keep your eyes off him, noticing something new every minute. A good reason to not spend any more time with him after this.

“Gimme.” He plucks your phone out of your hands so he can order his own pizza. With the utmost concentration, he scrolls and types in some things. No doubt using your pre-set credit card to pay for it. “Wait,” he says, sitting up straight. “Whoa, you’re friends with Yoongi? As in Min Yoongi? The guy who won this year’s mock court?”

Gasping, you dart over to grab the phone from him. “Don’t go through my messages!” With one hand on your chest, he manages to keep the device out of your reach. “Jungkook!”

His eyes move over the screen, reading your messages with the third year law student. “Why didn’t you just ask him for help, huh? He seems to like you, and that’s something. I don’t think Yoongi likes anybody.”

You try harder to grab your phone from his hands. It must look insane, your body bent over his, him trying to find ways to hold you off and keep the phone out of your reach. Somehow, you end up squashed between his—way too strong—thighs.

“Jungkook give me my phone back!” you whine.

Something on the screen makes him raise his eyebrows. “Are you two like—you know? Cuz I’ve heard some stuff and—”  

You shake your head, getting uneasy with the fact that he’s really reading your personal messages. “I don’t like Yoongi like that.”

Jungkook lifts his leg, using his knee to push you back. He’s got way too much strength in his body. “Okay, but I’m not sure that he knows that. He’s not a nice guy, you should steer clear of him.”

“Oh, and you would know how? It’s not like you’re such a gentleman.” Again, you try to jump for your phone, but he stops you in time by grabbing your wrist.

Face serious, he holds your gaze. “I’m not kidding. We run in the same circles. He’s a total asshole, you don’t want to get involved with him. You can do better.”

That sure is a way to silence you. You frown, settling back into your seat as Jungkook keeps scrolling through the chat. “I’m not into him, but he’s been texting me for a while. I was in his group for mock court.” Finally, you get your phone back, but your stomach feels uneasy looking at it. Perhaps Yoongi’s messages are a bit forward.

“I don’t know Yoongi well enough to be able to say for sure, but I know enough to tell you that he doesn’t talk to girls like you because he wants to be friends,” Jungkook says with a hand lingering on your thigh.

Way to make you feel good about yourself, Jeon. “What does that mean, girls like me?”

His face changes, eyes wide.

“What are you trying to say?” you press.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he leans forward onto his knees. “All I’m saying is that you don’t deserve to get played by some asshole who’s just trying to get into your pants.”

“Oh.” Is he being for real? He’s looking out for you? This is not how this is supposed to go. Jungkook shouldn’t be nice to you. He shouldn’t be helping you, or care about your wellbeing. He’s a dick and the two of you squabble and yell at each other. Yet, your chest warms at his words. Even if you weren’t looking to get together with Yoongi, it’s good to know he might have alternative motives. “Thank you.”

All he does is nod, before he grabs his laptop to resume where you guys left off. The awkwardness slowly dissipates as he takes you through the entire lineup thing again, just so you’ve got it down. After that you move onto the remaining subjects.

Today sure is strange. You never expected things to be so comfortable with Jungkook. Despite his exasperating personality and your on and off bickering, his presence is pleasant. It doesn’t take long for you to sink into the couch, drinking your third large cup of coffee.

Completely focussed on his monologue, you ask questions very sparingly, enraptured by him. You knew he was smart, he passes his classes with grades of 80% or higher for a reason. However, it’s different to see it in action.

Pizza arrives a little late, much to Jungkook’s dismay. Turns out he’s quite cranky when he gets hungry. He devours his pizza way faster than you can get through half of yours, and he’s quick to inch towards a slice from your box. You smack his hand away, reminding him of how he slandered you for your topping choice. He can have your leftovers from yesterday

“You call this pasta?” he questions in a disgusted tone, crouched down by the fridge

“Take it or starve. Your choice.”

He gets up, nose scrunched. “I’d rather starve, thanks. What exactly do you excel at? Since it’s not school, wit, or cooking.”

“Aim,” you spit, flicking a piece of pepperoni at him. It hits him straight in the cheek and you burst out into a fit of laughter. He stares at you in utter disbelief, removing the greasy piece of meat from his face. Tongue pressed to his cheek, he fights off his own smile—or an insult.

Eventually, he sits back down and goes over the remaining material while you eat. The end comes faster than you expected, his eyes darting to the clock.

“It’s getting late, I should probably go home.”

“What?” You pout. “How can you leave me to my own devices like this?!”

“Because I did what I could. I took you through all the material, now it’s up to you to try and memorise it. I’ve sent you my summaries and I’ll leave my flashcards here.” He grabs his things, meticulously stuffing them back into his backpack. With a heavy heart, you hand him his cap that had fallen to the floor.

Jungkook pushes his hair back, putting his cap on. He looks as nonchalant as he did when he came in. Backpack slung over one shoulder, hand shoved into his pocket. “Good luck. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you mumble. “Thanks.”

“I’m glad my presence was enjoyed.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, I only endured you because I want to pass.” Part of that is true. Though, he wasn’t as bad to hang out with as you had originally assumed. Maybe it’s because his friends aren’t around to show off to. Or because he genuinely wanted to help. Which is still weird. “Good luck to you too.”

He waves you goodbye, opening up the door, only to be met with a gust of wind. The sound of rain enters your apartment. Water plummets from the sky by the bucket.

“Shit,” Jungkook peers outside, hesitating in the doorway. “If I don’t show up tomorrow morning, please assume that I have drowned.”

You would’ve laughed at the idea of him getting soaking wet any other day. He came here to help you study and now he has to walk home through the rain. No doubt he’s going to catch a cold dressed the way he is. Maybe you should listen to Taehyung and be the better person for once.

Getting up, you pull him back inside by the string of his backpack. “You can’t go out when it’s like that, you’ll get sick.”

He turns with a smile. “As much as I would like to see you squirm a little longer, I need to study too.”

“You study?”

“How else do you think I get good grades? Eat books for breakfast?”

You shrug. “We can study together tonight?”

Stepping closer, Jungkook forces you back inside. Almost nose to nose. Your heart skips a beat when his breath fans over your face. “Is this just a lame excuse from you to spend more time with me?”

“No. But I can only imagine the tragedy that will befall me if you catch a cold because you were out here helping me study.” You poke a finger into his chest. A grave mistake, it’s way firmer than you’d thought. “If I let you stay over, you no longer owe me one.”

“I’m sorry, but it really sounds like you just want me to stay.” Jungkook inches closer, backing you against the couch.

You open your mouth to say something when your phone rings. Looking over to where it lies on the couch, you see Taehyung’s name displayed. He can wait. You glance back up at Jungkook, who’s nearly chest to chest with you, and also has his eyes locked on the phone.

Then, he grins.

You act fast, snatching the phone from the couch and declining the call before he even gets a chance to touch it. Taehyung really doesn’t need to know that Jungkook is here.

Jungkook himself, however, picks up on this. He chuckles lightly, arching his eyebrow. “Are you trying to hide the fact that I’m here?’”

“I wouldn’t say I was trying to hide it, but I really don’t need my friends to think I’m hanging out with you.”

Jungkook drops his bag in the chair again, curious glint in his eyes. “And why is that?”

“Because,” you start, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t want to be associated with the likes of you.”

“What am I now? A villain?”

“No, you’re a stuck up fuckboy who does nothing but party and sleep with random girls and yet somehow still manages to pass all his classes. You’re annoying, egotistical, insufferable, pushy, invasive and disrespectful.”  You let out a deep breath. Yeah, maybe Jungkook’s been nice to you today, but he hasn’t changed.

He rolls his eyes. “Well then. I’ll have you know that you are nothing more than an average, boring girl struggling to get by. You’re opinionated, crass, entitled, standoffish, a bad listener, impossibly stubborn and a bit of an airhead.”  The words leave him as if they mean nothing. “It’s not like I’d want to be associated with the likes of you either. But here I am, stranded because of the storm. So you, my dear, are stuck with me tonight. You did offer for me to stay over, after all.”

“Whatever,” you breathe, “let’s just try to study.”

The two of you return to your previous position on the couch, but now, he faces you. With the flashcards in hand, Jungkook reaches into his bag and pulls out a container filled with Maltesers.

The rules are simple. You take turns asking each other questions. If you get it right, you get a chocolate, you get it wrong the person who asked the question gets a chocolate. Easy enough, right? Now that you feel a bit more steady with the material, you should be able to answer some questions correctly. Even if it’s just to rob Jungkook of the satisfaction of eating the entire thing on his own.

Two questions in and the bickering starts. Jungkook’s whining because he’s cold and you can’t turn up the radiator. But since he was the one to leave the door open, it’s his fault that it’s so cold in here to begin with. You’ve long hogged the blanket for yourself and you don’t intend on sharing it. It’s the only barrier that’s keeping you from touching his feet.

“Please,” he pouts. “I’m so cold, you can’t let me freeze to death in this fucking igloo.”

You pull the blanket closer. “No. It’s mine.”

He whines. “Come on, it’s big enough for both of us. It’ll be warmer if we share.”

“No.”

“You do realise I could just take it from you by force.”

“You would not.”

He sits up straighter, putting a hand on the edge of the fabric. “I’m giving you the option now. Either you share, or I’m pulling it from your cold, grabby hands. If you’re just afraid to snuggle with me, you can just say so.”

In order to not admit defeat, you give up half of the blanket so he can shove his legs under it. He extends his legs way past his side of the couch, his feet touching your lower back. You have no choice but to fold one of your legs over his, the other extended by his side. Indeed, it’s warmer this way.

“Now, where were we?” He flips to his next card. “Ah, yes. Weapon focus effect.”

That one you remember clearly. “It’s when a witness’ attention was so focused on the weapon present at the incident that they fail to remember any significant details about the perpetrator. It’s an involuntary process that often leads to inaccurate descriptions of the attackers.” You definitely got that one, no doubt. It’s easy.

Jungkook throws you a chocolate. “Good job, you’re doing well. It seems you listened to what I had to say after all.”

“I mean,” you say, popping the chocolate into your mouth. “I didn’t have that much of a choice but to listen, now did I?”

“You were visually undressing me the entire time. I had assumed your mind was busy with...other things.” He’s doing it on purpose, trying to get some type of reaction from you. Instead, you just bite your lip, not knowing what to say. “Oh, was I right? Tell me, what were you thinking about.”

You let out a sound, throwing a pillow at him. “I wasn’t thinking anything. And I wasn’t undressing you.”

“No, you were thinking of how big my head was, right? Would it,” he pauses, lifting up the blanket to peer underneath, “fit between your thighs?”

“What is wrong with you!” You scream, hands covering your face that quickly turns red.

He laughs in return. “You’re so easily flustered. I’d almost call it cute.”

Peering through your fingers, you frown. “Almost?”

“Yeah, almost. Not quite, because you’re still you.”

In a surge of confidence, you sit up straight and grab the stack of cards again. Not looking at him as you speak. “How about, instead of imagining what I taste like, you tell me what a flashbulb memory is.”

Inches away from choking on his spit, Jungkook doesn’t manage to come up with a smart retort. He just answers your questions with pursed lips and distant eyes. It’s correct though, so you get to throw him a chocolate. Which of course, he catches with his mouth. Show off.

It goes on for another while, storm raging outside. With the winds turned, you can now clearly hear the pattering against your window. You can’t imagine what Jungkook would’ve done had he been walking through this storm. It’s only getting worse.

Time ticks by fast. Soon, Jungkook is left with one last flashcard in his hands. And you are determined to get that last chocolate. He smirks to himself, probably aware that you don’t know the answer to this. But if anything, you are determined to prove him wrong.

“Tell me,” he trails, “what is the difference between compliance and suggestibility?”

You know this. He’s explained it three times. So you’re confident in your next words. “Compliance is when a witness giving a testimony willingly accepts a suggestion but is aware that the suggestion is wrong. Suggestibility is when they believe that the suggestion is right and thus take it for the truth. Both are problematic, but suggestibility is harder to expose.”

Jungkook tuts. “You got them switched around.”

“Huh?! That can’t be right!”

“Sure is, the last chocolate is mine.”

You snatch the bag away before he can grab it. “I don’t think so. Let me see that card.”

“Are you accusing me of lying?”

“For chocolate? I sure am. Let me see.”  You crawl over to his side, squishing yourself between him and the couch. “Jungkook,” you whine when he covers the card with his hand, “let me see. My grade depends on this.”

He chuckles at you. “It does not. I’m confident that you will pass regardless.”

You try to pry the card out of his hand, but it’s no use. The grip he has on the thing is too strong. He manages to hold you down without even breaking a sweat. It’s a few beats before you can realise that you’re now entirely pressed up against him. You can feel the muscles in his thighs shift, the soft skin of his arm against yours

“Let me have the chocolate and I will show you,” he whispers.

Flushed, you stop struggling. “Whatever, I know I’m right.”

Jungkook then reveals the card to you, showing you that you indeed, were right. “I’m glad you’re finally confident in your abilities. That’s the key to passing a test.”

Has he really been testing you this entire time? That’s sure one way to do the trick. Without replying, you sink into his side. Silently enjoying his warmth. It’s comfortable to sit like this, now that it’s night and the apartment continues to get colder. You don’t mind, really. Inhaling slightly, you catch a whiff of his fresh floral scent. It’s mixed with a sharp edge that suits him well.

As Jungkook grabs the stack of cards you got wrong to revise them, you don’t move. The two of you just get comfortable like that. It’s easier to see the cards the way anyhow. You can just look at them together. Plus, you’re starting to feel a little sleepy and don’t want to move. He seems equally as content, just reciting the questions and explaining why you got them wrong.

“Okay so,” you say, pointing at something on the card. “It’s not so much an issue on the witness’ side as it is on the police’s?”

Jungkook nods, looking at you. “They’re the ones leading the witness. It’s not the witness’ fault that they take on their opinion.”

You hum, meeting his gaze. He doesn’t falter, almost as if he’s searching your eyes. “Something wrong?”you ask, voice hushed, goosebumps appearing on the back of your neck. There’s a mole right below his bottom lip which is plump and looks soft. His top lip is more defined, making for a cute pout. The more you look, the more you notice all his moles. On his nostril, his cheek, his ear.

“No,” he answers eventually. Voice strained. “I think you have a pimple growing between your brows.”

“Get lost!” You shove your elbow into his side, pulling a pained groan from him. “You’re so stupid.”

For a moment he’s quiet, just rubbing his side and shifting so he can get more comfortable. One of his legs falls off the couch, the other still between yours. “You really hate me, huh?”

At any other given moment, you would’ve replied with yes. But now, it’s laden. Is he asking you that seriously? It’s one thing to tell Taehyung you can’t stand him, or to yell it in his face when he’s being a brat, but you can’t literally say it to him like this. Why, you don’t really know. The expectant look makes your stomach tighten.

“Why are you saying it like that?”

He shrugs. “No reason in particular. Just because,” he gestures at your bodies, “it doesn’t seem like you mind being around me that much. If anything I’d say that,” he stops, leaning in close to your ear. You can feel the barely-there graze of his lips. “You like being around me.”

You bite your tongue, looking up to find his eyes darker than before. Cocking his head to the side, he awaits your answer. You’re not willing to give him the satisfaction. There’s no need to stroke his already big ego any more. Yes, this is more pleasant than you’d expected. Yes, he’s nice to be around. But... “You’re still a pain in the ass. Sorry.” With that, you had expected him to look away, but he doesn’t. His eyes flicker down to your lips, and back up to your eyes.

“So are you,” he teases, lips stretching into a lopsided grin.

Within a heartbeat, your lips are touching. Jungkook groans. You gasp, pulling him closer. Closed eyes, your heart beats a million miles an hour, revelling in the feeling of his mouth against yours. How soft his lips are. The trailing of his fingertips up your neck so he can crane your head back.

He comes to life, parting with a brief look into your eyes and a deep breath. Then, diving in full force. Jungkook kisses you like he’s been waiting to—like he’s hungry for it. You can barely believe that it’s happening, still trying to register that he’s actually kissing you. That it feels this good.

Your entire body kicks into gear when he bites at your bottom lip. Shifting your body to face his, you wrap a hand around the back of his neck. Returning his fervor, your mouths part and tongues meet in a desperate clash. Jungkook lets out a deep, guttural sound that makes you shiver. He’s skilled, tongue swiping over yours in a way that you can barely keep up with. Deliciously hot, just edging on sloppy. There’s no room for pauses, no time for thoughts.

Gaining purchase against the armrest, you swing a leg over his to sit in his lap. Jungkook’s leaning back still, pawing at your waist now that he’s got full access. You take full advantage of the position, crashing into him and devouring him. Biting at his lips, sucking his tongue into your mouth. The feeling is nearly euphoric paired with the rough, firm touches of his hands all over your body.

He touches anything he can find. Gripping onto your thighs and ass, slipping under your tank top and sweater to graze the skin on your back. Sparks erupt everywhere.

Mid-kiss, he sits up. Twisting so he can firmly plant both his feet on the found. It’s the angle he needs to pull you right against him. Your hips make contact and you moan. He’s not quite hard but he’s certainly getting there and the thought makes your head spin.

“Fuck,” you gasp, breaking away for air while he grids his hips up into yours. “Jungkook—”

“No talking,” he mouths against your jawline. “More kissing,” his voice is so  raspy that it’s barely recognisable. Almost a growl.

You push his cap off. Grabbing his face with both hands and kissing him firmly. Angling his head back the same way he had done to you. Kissing him is way better than you could’ve ever imagined. He’s rougher, stronger, harder against your body. You need more.

Slipping your hands under his shoulder, you lift it. Tracing the hard lines of his chest, feeling how he jumps under your touch. It empowers you, makes you bolder. Your fingers reach a pert nipple, brushing over it only to hear him moan in the back of his throat. God, he keeps on getting better and better. Sensitive it seems, as you roll the bud between your fingers. His hips buck up into yours. Fully hard at this point, he must start to get uncomfortable in those jeans.

Jungkook’s resolve with kissing you slows, needing air. He breaks away with a smirk, cheeks flushed and panting. Holding your gaze steady, he pulls his shirt over his head in one smooth motion. Revealing planes of unmarred skin and tattoos you had yet to discover.

You take no shame in staring, reaching out to trace the dream catcher on his shoulder. Moving along the lines of thread and feathers that reach his elbow.

“Like what you see?” he whispers, pushing you closer with a hand on your lower back just so he can kiss your neck. You shiver, legs spreading. Leaning your head back to give him enough room to mark you up. The thought alone makes you whimper. “What’s that?” he mumbles, licking a hot stripe up your throat.

Fingers digging into his shoulders, you grind down onto him. He moans in response. “Stop being so smug.”

Jungkook throws his head back, looking at you through his lashes as you gyrate your hips more firmly. His body on full display. “I don’t know, it seems like you’re into it.”

“For fucks sake, shut up and kiss me.”

He listens, capturing your mouth with his. Everything moves fast after that. Between tongues and mouths clashing, Jungkook rids you of your sweater. He kisses down your neck and throat, leaving marks and enjoying the way that you quiver for him. You’re soaking through your leggings at this point. Jungkook’s doing no better.

When he pulls away, you take the opportunity to kiss down his neck, collarbones and chest. To get off his lap and kneel between his legs. His eyes widen as you do so. A hand immediately comes up to push your hair aside, tipping your chin upwards. When he traces his thumb over your mouth, you part your lips and swirl your tongue around the digit and bite down, making him hiss.

Spreading his legs to accomodate you, he relaxes against the cushions. Just like little pricks on the edge of your consciousness, you feel the nerves. You question your skills when you undo his jeans and pull them down his legs. Yet, the hazy look in his eyes tells you that he’s going to like this no matter what. He all but arches into you when you palm him through his underwear. Rock hard and leaking through the fabric, you don’t want to wait any longer to finally get your mouth on him. To hear him moan for you.

So you reach past his waistband, foregoing any teasing and pull the fabric down. His cock slaps up against his stomach, making him hiss again. The sight is gorgeous. Jungkook with his head thrown back, hair a mess, chest heaving and flushed even though you’ve barely touched him. It’s satisfying to know you did that to him.

You sit down on your knees, holding him in one hand and go slow. Mouthing at him first, giving him just a taste of what’s to come. He doesn’t hold back for you, reddened lips parting with all the noises he lets out. When you take the tip into your mouth, he jolts—groans and reaches to anchor himself on your shoulder. You have one hand on his thigh, the other around the base. That way, you steady yourself when you sink down on him.

“Don’t—Fuck, keep going.” A gentle hand winds into your hair, guiding you further onto his cock. You’re not usually one to do this but, seeing him feel this good spurs you on. It makes you want to take all of him. You don’t stop when he hits the back of your throat, gag reflex kicking in. He moans at the feeling, so you try to swallow. “Shit, fuck, don’t do that. Your mouth,” he pants, “so good.”

Feeling his grip loosen, you pull up, taking a deep breath when you let him out of your mouth. Spit dribbles from your mouth to the head, tears sting at the corners of your eyes. You look up, giving him the full vision, and you don’t look away when you sink down again.

You’re so wet. Core aching but unable to find any sort of relief. You end up trying to grind your hips without any payoff. Meanwhile, you start a steady rhythm. Hollowing out your cheeks and using your tongue on the underside. It works. You have him moaning out your name in seconds. His hand tightens in your hair again, not to force you, but spurring you on to take him a little deeper each time. Right until your nose hits his stomach. You hold there, to let him feel the flex of your throat one more time. Just so he remembers it. Then you take your rhythm back up, a little faster, a little tighter. Your jaw starts to hurt, but it’s worth it. To feel his thighs start to tremble and his stomach clench. How he tightens his hold on your hair, moans pitching every time you pass your tongue right under the head.

Your lungs are burning, but you can’t help but feel addicted to him. Sucking him harder and feeling him near that edge. You dig your nails into his thigh, breathing in through your nose. Jungkook’s hip start moving just a little, enough to startle you.

“‘M close,” he moans. “Fuck, can I—in your mouth. Shit.” He runs a hand through his hair, browns furrowed deep. When he opens his eyes you shiver. His lids are heavy, pupils blown and cheeks red. Just like his lips—he sinks his teeth into his bottom one when you resume.

He takes it as a yes, unable to stop his hips from pushing up. You let him take control, holding yourself still, hands on his thighs. Jungkook’s breathing picks up, moans mixing into one drawn out sound. You meet his eyes, mouth stuffed with his cock. That’s all he needed. He twitches and cums into your mouth. The taste is bitter and harsh on your tongue. You close your eyes, focused on the feeling of his body trembling. You’re the one who did that to him.

When he lets you go and you pull off him, he gives you a fuck-out yet expectant look. A cocky arch of his eyebrow when he sees your bulged cheeks. Waiting for you to swallow.

Instead, you reach for his mug that sits on the edge of the table and spit into it. Flinching at the leftover taste.

Jungkook nudges you with his knee. “Why are you like this?”

You set his cup down and reach for your own, take a big gulp of now-cold coffee. “I’m not swallowing your jizz.” The thought of doing that alone makes you want to puke.

“Don’t call it that.”

Rolling your eyes, you stand up on wobbly legs. “I just had it in my mouth, so I can call it whatever I want.”

Jungkook mimics your eyeroll. “Fine.” He pats your thigh. “Pants off.”

“What?”

He lies down on the couch. Surely he doesn’t expect you to ride him after you just fucked up your throat for him? What an ass. “You heard me, naked now. Chop chop.” He motions for you to hurry up and you just give him a blank stare. “Ugh, come here.”  Jungkook sits up just slightly again and pulls you closer by your waistband. He gives you a brief look. “Unless you don’t wanna get naked?”

You chuckle, pushing at his hands to get him to slide your leggings off. A hand slips between your thighs to touch you. Rubbing you through the fabric, your knees nearly buckle. He’s nonchalant about it, lying back, eyes focused between your legs. Yet, he’s too accurate, easily finding his target.

“Jungkook,” you whine, grabbing onto the back of the couch.

He smirks. “Let’s take these off too.” The snap of your panties to your hip pulls you back. You shove them down, taken aback by the feeling of a hand grabbing your thigh. You’re about to question him, when he scoots further back on the couch and lifts your leg past his body. “Have a seat.”

Mind absolutely blank, you let him guide you to sit over his face. You’re dripping and he can see it—feel it probably from the way you just grazed his chest. A small moan leaving your lips when he reaches up to kiss your stomach.

“Don’t be shy,” he chuckles. “I’ve got you.”

You shift forward, holding onto the back of the couch. His hands come up to your thighs, pulling you even higher so he can slot his mouth onto your core. You can’t help but moan.

Noisy. Jungkook is so noisy. He sucks your lips into his mouth, teethes at them until you’re shaking. You struggle to hold your hips still, the need to grind into him too strong. And he does nothing to stop you. No, he urges you on. Looking up at you with those big eyes and nodding against you. Jungkook opens his mouth, tongue darting out to tease at your clit just briefly. Then, the reigns are all yours.

He holds you by the hips so you can hesitantly start moving. You shiver. It feels so good; the wet warmth of his mouth against your core. He follows you, hands pawing at your thighs, hips, and ass. With eyes closed, Jungkook eats you out like he’s been dying to do it. There’s no teasing, no playing—he’s straight to the point. You move over his tongue as he sucks on your cunt, nibbling and flicking whenever he gets the chance. Anything else is irrelevant. The sight of his head blissed out between your thighs is all you can focus on.

The pleasure spikes, shooting up your spine and filling you with warmth. It’s embarrassing how fast he gets you on the edge. How good he is. The way he occasionally stops you to take that bundle of nerves between his lips and suck on it until you’re screaming—it’s mind blowing. Your entire body is on fire, sweat drips down your back. His name falls from your lips in cries that echo throughout the room. Louder than the storm raging against the window.

“Jungkook, I’m—” you pant, unable to finish your sentence with the moans that he pulls from you. Incapable of thinking from the second he swirls his tongue around your entrance and presses inside. You halt all your movements. Nails dug deeply into the couch, you reach for his hair with your other hand. He moans when you grip it tightly, his own fingers tightening around your hips. “Don’t stop.”

He alternates between fucking his tongue into you and sucking on your clit. The intensity is almost too much. The irregularity keeps you on your toes and has you nearly teetering over the edge. You just need to—Jungkook reaches behind you and plunges two fingers into your sopping core. The sensation of being filled along with his tongue flicking over you has your eyes rolling back. Everything goes white.

You double over on the couch, unable to keep yourself up and smothering him in the process. Trembling in his hold, he helps you slowly ride out your high. Short, gentle movements against his mouth. The rocking of your hips is as involuntary as the way your body keeps shaking when he lets you go. Breath high in your throat, you chuckle.

“Good god.” You fall down when he slips out from underneath you.

As you twist towards him, Jungkook wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, crawling over you. All your limbs still feel like jelly, your mind swimming. “Yeah, that good?”

You hum, eyes closing. Wanting to lie down, you turn on your back, hearing a sharp thud.

“Shit,” Jungkook gasps. He’s grasping his chin with a laugh.

A few seconds pass before you feel the soreness in your knee. “Ugh, I’m so sorry,” you whine, reaching up to touch him. But he has other plans. Jungkook surges down smiling, pressing your mouths together for the first time in what feels like hours. The stickiness on his face doesn’t go unnoticed. The reminder that he just ate you out, that he’s the one who made you cum that hard. You moan when you taste yourself on his tongue.

He kisses you deeply, smiling against your mouth. You finally get rid of your tank top, now fully naked. He mouths over your chest, twisting your nipples, spreading your legs so that he can fit between them. Pressing himself against you, hard and waiting. “Can you go again?” he asks, pulling away and searching your eyes.

You still feel floaty, but the sensation of his hard cock pressing against your thigh has you quivering. “Yeah.”  You’re aching to feel him inside, so you tilt your hips up towards him. Spreading your legs wider and inviting him.

“Wait,” you blurt, eyes flying open and pressing a hand against his chest. He stops with his hand around his dick, just about ready to slide home. “Condom.”

Jungkook curses, looking around the room. He locates his jeans that lie in a pile with his shirt and boxers. The fact that he’s actually got a condom in there is uncanny.

“You’ve got to be kidding me?”  You joke.

He shrugs. “I wore these jeans while going out last night.”

“You’re disgusting!” You slap his arm lightly, but he just chuckles in return. He knows just as well as you do that you’re waiting for him to fuck you. The clenching of your core attests to that.

No time is wasted, Jungkook puts the condom on and lines himself up. “You good?”  

You nod. “Just go slow.”

The slight oversensitivity just makes it feel even better. He stretches you out so perfectly. You feel every inch, every stutter of his hips as he goes deeper. Way deeper than you’d expected. Until his hips meet yours and he curses, burying his face into your neck.

“You feel good,” he mumbles, kissing your skin.

“You too.” Trailing your fingers up his back, you wait for your body to adjust to him. To feel yourself relax and pull for more. That tell-tale need for movement, friction. Jungkook holds steady, hips barely moving. “Go,” you say when your stomach clenches. “Move. Fuck me like you mean it.”

Jungkook growls, grasping onto the couch. Pulling out and slamming back in full force. You slide up the cushions, so fast you grasp onto him for support. Fingernails digging into his back, legs wrapping around his waist, you keen at the pleasure. Each thrust is better than the last. Harder, more precise.

Your back arches off the couch, mouth agape. Pleasure is constant, like your body is vibrating with it. Jungkook mouths at your neck, sucking, biting—teeth playfully tugging at your ear just to whisper something dirty that you can barely comprehend. Your mind can’t make sense of anything but his dick pumping inside of you. His hips slapping against yours and his mouth against your skin.

Until he kisses you. His mouth messily connecting with yours, movements slowing. With a hand on your ass, he hikes you up the couch, angling your body so that he can press your legs to your chest. Just like that, he picks up. Starting off slow, still kissing you, tongue laving over yours almost sweetly. You shiver, the slow drag of his cock as delicious as the harsh assault. He changes angles, just a hair, but it’s enough for him to graze that part inside of you that makes you see stars.

Throwing your head back, you moan. Fingers sliding through the sweat on his back, up to tangle into his hair, gripping tight. He groans. Head falling onto your shoulder, hips stuttering against yours.

“You like that?” you whisper into his ear, tongue darting out to flick at a pierced lobe.

He nods, teeth sinking into your shoulder as you pull hard. Hips picking up, chasing the pleasure.

Hearing him moan like that. So unabashed and loud, only adds to your pleasure. Toes curling, you close your eyes and let your head fall back. Hips meeting him thrust for thrust, helping him reach even deeper inside of you. To hit that spot every single time. Jungkook has perfected that balance between smooth and hard. Never slamming rough enough to jolt you, yet firm enough to make you capable of sounds you were unaware of. Rhythmic, never stopping or slowing. So constant you can’t do anything but fall into motion with him.

Bodies syncing up. Hands finding places to touch.  Nipples, lips, thighs, waists, hair. He is holding you spread open for him, your thighs starting to ache. But it’s worth it, because soon, you feel the pleasure spike.

Your stomach tightens, tingling at the base of your spine. “Jungkook,” you moan.

He answers by looking up, lips bitten red and parted.

“Can you,” you can’t finish the sentence, moaning and closing your eyes. Tapping his hand on your thigh is enough though. He releases you, instead pulling your legs around his waist. Closer like this, his chest slides over yours. It gives you just enough space to reach between your bodies and touch yourself.

He looks down at the sensation, cursing at the sight of your fingers playing with your clit while his cock slides in and out of you. The angle doesn’t let you do the same, but you can hear the slick slide clearly. You can feel it dripping down your ass.

The added pleasure is enough to put you on the edge, fast. “I’m gonna—Jungkook!” you yelp when he leans down and sucks a nipple into his mouth. “Fuck.” One hand between your bodies, the other holding his hair.

In seconds, your high hits you. Hard. Your entire body locks up, so much that Jungkook lets out a strangled moan. Fluttering around him he joins you in your peak. Thrusts stilling, pressed deep inside of you. He spills into the condom as you rut your hips, still coming down.

Spent bodies collapse onto the couch, Jungkook refusing to pull out immediately. He’s basking in the feeling of your aftershock, walls still clenching ever so slightly. You can’t blame him. It feels good. Having him inside of you as he lies down, pulling your hips against his, kissing you. His mouth is tender, laving over yours without much hurry. A hand combing through your hair, softly humming, smiling.

He finally pulls out, leaving you feeling empty and slightly sore. Grunting, he ties the condom and makes a show of throwing it into the same mug you used earlier. It makes him grin.

“I’m throwing that mug out.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“Oh, I really do. It’s been tainted beyond remedy. I’m not drinking from that, ever again.”

Jungkook presses his nose against your temple, still grinning like a fool. “You’re so weird.”

You snort. “Says the guy who just three-point shot a condom into a mug full of cum.”

No reply follows, only comfortable silence. Jungkook and you just lie like that for a while. Bodies coming down, breaths evening out, enjoying each other. Slightly sticky with sweat, you let him grab the blanket and throw it over you. Your heart swells.

Could it be possible that you’re not the only one who feels something more? Deep down, you’ve always known he’s not just an asshole. You’ve just never seen that side of him before today. All this time you’ve tried to ignore it. To not let yourself fall for that trap. A guy like him isn’t supposed to be good. Yet, maybe you were wrong about him. And maybe, he feels the same way about you.

Taehyung isn’t gonna let you hear the end of this, but you can’t help but wonder if there is an opportunity for more between you and Jungkook?

“You know,” he says after a while, “We should definitely do this again.”

Your heart shatters. That’s it. Reality crashing down on you. Of course Jungkook doesn’t feel anything for you. He’s just out for sex and you should’ve known.

You scramble up from the couch. Jungkook sputters out something you can’t quite catch, trying to grab a hold of you. “Don’t touch me,” you spit. “I can’t believe you.” Grabbing your panties and pulling them on alongside your sweater, you put distance between the two of you. “Is that what I am to you? Just another cunt to fuck?”

Jungkook’s hastily putting on his boxers, standing up, eyes wide. He opens his mouth, but you don’t care to listen.

“That’s why you were really here, right? To get into my pants. That’s why you had the condom on you.” It’s all falling together now. How could you have been so stupid? “All the fucking whining about Yoongi, but you’re no better than him.”

“Stop,” he rushes, shaking his head. “Listen to me—“

“Don’t!” you call when he reaches for you, grabbing you by the wrists and forcing you to look at him. You try to wriggle away, but he’s holding you steady.

“Listen,” he tries again. “I—“

You shove at his chest. “Let me go, Jungkook. Fucking let me go.”

He obeys, arms falling limply beside his body. Expression going soft when he sees you’re crying. “Please hear me out.”

“No, Jungkook. You don’t get it. I have feelings for you. Real, non-sexual feelings. I don’t just want to be another girl on your checklist.” There it is. Out with the truth. Your breaths come out short and ragged. Harshly wiping your tears, you grab your leggings off the floor. Jungkook just stares at you. “I was stupid to fall for this act.” It’s true. He doesn’t date. Sex. That’s it. You should’ve known, you should’ve protected yourself. Should’ve never let him weasel his way into your heart.

Jungkook deflates, head falling, hair shielding his eyes. “I’m sorry that you think of me this way.”

What a pretentious prick. “Forget it Jungkook, I’m not buying it.” You look outside, rain still pouring down the window. “You know where everything is. I want you out before sunrise.” You turn your back on him and storm into your bedroom, slamming the door closed.

The contents of your cabinet click, something falling to the floor. Your tears only get worse. Feeling the cold of your room wrap around your worn out body. To feel the remnants of him still cling to your skin. The marks, the soreness, and the scent. God, you’re so dumb. You want to call Taehyung, to hear his voice and have him comfort you. But it’s two in the morning and his sleep schedule is shaky enough as it is.

So you just opt for a shower, stripping and getting under the hot spray to wash away whatever you can. You douse yourself in your favourite clementine scented body wash. But it does nothing to clean the fresh tears. Nothing can. The realisation that your feelings for Jungkook had gone way past crush hurts. You let your guard down and he drove a knife into your back.

Sleep, you think. You need sleep. You need to rid yourself of these thoughts and feelings. Wake up tomorrow and just pretend like this never happened. Even if you know it’ll be evident. You can pretend.

You dry off and brush your teeth. Three times to be precise. Ending up in bed wrapped in your favourite teddy sweater, warm and cosy. Your chest still aches with tears that no longer fall. Heart heavy. Like you miss him close to you.

There’s not much you can do but close your eyes and will your mind to shut off. You don’t want to think about him anymore.

The creaking of your door opening startles you right as you’re drifting off. He better be joking. You refuse to move, holding tightly onto the blanket, hoping that he’s just checking in on you and will leave. You hear the door click closed, and then the bed dips.

You hold your breath. Jungkook doesn’t speak. He lifts the covers so he can scoot under them and pull you against his chest. It’s not a tight hold, but it’s there. A strong arm draped over your waist, legs grazing yours as you pretend to be asleep. The feather-light gaze of his lips against your neck makes fresh tears appear in your eyes.

“Jungkook,” you croak.

He shushes you. “I know you’re upset with me. I just don’t want you to be alone when you’re feeling like this. We can talk in the morning—if you want. For now, just get some rest.”

It’s true. You shouldn’t be alone, crying yourself to sleep. Even if he’s the one that caused it. You just don’t want to let yourself trust the gesture. He’s probably trying to make you feel less angry. Even if it doesn’t work, it’s appreciated, ill intent or not. Having someone here is calming, letting you fall into an unruly slumber.

The next morning, you wake up in his embrace. Closer, back pressed to his chest. His nose nuzzles into your hair. It’s so nice. Warm. Soothing. He’s a good cuddler.

Then, your entire body stiffens. The previous night coming back to you in flashes. Your bodies entwined on the couch, moans bouncing off the wall. You swallow tightly, lifting his arm.

“Hey,” Jungkook whispers. He must’ve already been awake, reaching for your hand and giving it a small squeeze. “Should I go?”

Yes. “No,” you mumble. You need answers. To make the story whole before you force him out of your life for good.

“Do you want to—”

“Why do you always act like such a dick around me?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath. “Because you won’t give me the time of day otherwise.”

You still, practically holding your breath so that you can hear every word.

“Every time I’m nice to you, you pretend like I don’t exist. When I push your buttons,” he sighs, “that’s when I get your attention.”

Attention? He wants your attention? Your mind’s running circles, afraid to turn around and see the look in his eyes and get swayed. Feel remorse for the pain you hear lined in his voice. That you can feel in the trembling of his hand encasing yours.

“Can you at least say something?” he asks.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

He sits up, the mattress shifting and your eyes closing tightly.  “Sit up, please.”  Grabbing your arm, Jungkook gets you to reluctantly sit up and face him. Though you won’t look at him, eyes on your knees that nearly touch his. You notice that he’s still in his boxers, but he’s at least wearing a shirt. He doesn’t force you to look at him when he starts speaking again. “I want to be honest with you.” He toys with the edge of your sheets. “But if you’re not going to listen to the whole story it’s not worth telling you.”

Your heart hammers. Tears threaten to fall. Taking a deep breath gives away your nerves. You want to tell him he can’t ask that of you. That he doesn’t deserve that. But if there’s even a slight chance of a misunderstanding—something your heart hopes for—you have to hear him out. Even if it’ll hurt. “Okay.”

“Thank you,” he mumbles. He’s nervous too. Breath shaky like his body, nearly curled in on himself. You never thought you’d see him this vulnerable. “Honestly, when I first met you, I was intrigued by you because I couldn’t have you. You just held up your nose every time I as much as looked your way. It made me want to know more about you. And the moment I did, it was over for me. I realised that you’re not just opinionated, crass, and entitled. You’re smart, a hard worker, and you’re such a good friend.”

You finally dare to look up. To see the desperate look in his eyes as he pauses. Shocked.

“I admire you,” he whispers.

“What?” you blurt. “You’re the one with the straight A’s, not me.”

He shakes his head in defeat, biting his lip and looking away. “The only reason I’m getting straight A’s is because I’ve taken these classes before. I’m not like you, I don’t work hard. I should be studying like you.”

You frown. “What do you mean, you’ve done them before? Do you already have a law degree?”

Jungkook avoids your eyes. “When I got out of high school at the age of seventeen, I got into a big university with a scholarship. The full ride. But I was stupid,” he croaks. “I wanted to fully enjoy the college ride. So I studied just enough to get by and dedicated the rest of my time to partying.” He says it like he’s disgusted with himself. Muscles in his neck tightening as he swallows impending tears. “I got arrested for underage drinking and lost the entire scholarship. Everything I had worked so hard for, down the drain.”

The words leave him pained, the regret for his past decisions clear in his eyes. Yet, he’s still here, studying this degree you know most students can’t afford. You have a scholarship too.

“So yeah,” he breathes. “I wish I had a little more discipline like you. I admire that you’re able to put school first. As much as I pretend to hate you just to get your attention, I like being around you. You’re a positive influence on people, including me.”

“So it’s my fault? For judging you?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen. “No, not at all. As I said, I was being an ass on purpose because I was curious about you. But when I got to know you,” he cocks his head to the side, “feelings happened. I just couldn't find a way to show you the better sides of myself. Which is partially why I showed up yesterday.”

“Huh,” you frown. So he did have ulterior motives? “How does that change anything? You still showed up here to sleep with me.” He’s talking in circles. You feel remorse for him, but you tell yourself to stay strong. His past doesn’t excuse his actions.

“I really wasn’t planning on sleeping with you. I wouldn’t do that to you. There just was no other way to get you to spend time alone with me. I wanted to show you a better side of me, hoping that you’d realise I’m not all bad and maybe would give me a chance.” A chance to what? “I like you,” he adds when you don’t respond, “a lot.”

What? He can’t be serious. After everything that happened.

“But I also care about you. I like being around you—bickering included. I genuinely wanted to help. I know how hard it is to start again, I didn’t want to see you go through that.”

You go silent. Trying to think over his words and not see the bad. To believe that he means it. He did help you after all. He studied with you for hours, never insinuating anything sexual. He was nice, comforting and believed in you. You never asked for any of that. And after all, you kissed him too. You could’ve stopped it. If he had just wanted sex, he wouldn’t be here.

But he is. “Jungkook, I’m so sorry,” you say, grabbing his hand.

“I’m the one who’s sorry. For making you feel used. I should’ve just been honest with you.” Jungkook laces your fingers together. “I know it was a dick move on my side to sleep with you. I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

“I played as much of a part in it as you did. So let’s just—how about we call it even. Bury the hatchet?” You cock your head to the side, rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand. It won’t be easy, you’ll need to do a lot of thinking, but your heart wants to forgive him. To see more of his gentler side.

He nods, lifting up your hand and pressing his lips against your knuckles. “Sounds good to me.”

The two of you get up after that, even if it’s a little awkward. It’s weird to not be bickering with him. You’re surprised that he actually cleaned the living room last night. There’s not a trace of him left aside from his clothes that are carefully folded on the table. Even that mug is gone.

“What do you want to eat?” you ask, reaching to the top shelve for another mug.

Jungkook comes closer. “Just coffee is okay for now.”

You turn, almost bumping into his chest, blushing heavily. Now that he knows you have feelings for him, he’s enjoying himself just a little too much. Smiling at you while you’re making coffee and some cereal for yourself. You eat in silence, browsing through your phone.

It’s when you get up to clean, that Jungkook speaks again.

“Hey,” he says, grabbing you back by the waist.

“Hi?” You turn around in his grip.

“You know,” he starts, hand coming up to brush your hair behind your ear. “As much as I regret what I said yesterday, I did mean it.”

“What?” You chuckle lightly. “You want to do that again?”

He nods, and you catch a faint redness dusting his cheeks. “I do, a lot of times, if you want.”

You laugh, twisting away from him to put the dishes in the sink. “If that is your way of you asking me to be your girlfriend, Jungkook, then I must say you’re not quite hitting the right angle. Seeing what happened yesterday.” He can’t seriously be thinking you just want him for sex after all that. You start cleaning, even if it’s just to avoid having to look at him and admit that you’re shy. Thinking about what happened last night—the good parts.

Sighing, he turns off the tap that you had just turned on.

“Hey!” You turn it back on, only to have him shut it off again. “What do you want?”

“I’m not saying that I want you to be my girlfriend. I don’t think I’m ready for that just yet.” He leans in, brushing his nose against yours, searching your eyes like he’d done the night before. Like he’s waiting for permission.

You couldn’t resist him even if you tried. So you kiss him, just briefly. “Then what are you ready for, big boy?”

He laughs. “For starters, I would love to take you out for dinner after the exam that’s in,” he looks up at the clock, “six hours.”

You groan, throwing your head back. “Don’t remind me.” It’s probably a wiser decision to take some time to think. See how you feel about this, but dinner won’t hurt. “I will still need some time to think about,” you gesture between you two, “whatever this is.”

“Oh,” his face falls. “Yeah, I get that. I just thought that—since you said you have feelings for me too.” Jungkook pouts. He fucking juts out his bottom lip and you haven’t seen anything more endearing in your entire life. Your heart does a weird little flip, and you know that you’re a goner. Even more so than you had been before last night.

Now you know that he is good. That he is worthy of a chance. So why not give it? Why would you sit around and let your mind think all sorts of negative things about him if you can give him the chance to prove to you that he’s a great guy. As he said, it’s just a date. Not a label. Yet.

When he turns away, you pull him back by his hand, slamming your lips to his. He grunts, both hands coming up to thread through your hair. The kiss isn’t deep. It isn’t anything like the way you kissed last night. It sweeps you off your feet, so tender and warm. When he pulls away, you’re out of breath and you can see the adoration in his eyes. You hope he can see it in yours.

Then, he pinches your butt.

You push at his chest. “Thanks for reminding me that you’re still an annoying brat.”

He chuckles, giving you a peck on the lips. “But you like me that way.”

“Sadly,” you grumble, winding your arms around his neck. “I do.”

Thanks to: @/fallinforkoo @knjkitten​ @yoongs-jeontae​ @wintaejk​ @guksweet​ @rynofpentacles​ @mikroparadise​ @jeonggukkiepabo​ @softlyjiminie​ Requested by: @/fallinforkoo + @hornyjailbonk​ + 3x Anonymous Taglist: @jiminskth​ @teresaisla​​ @yeontanie21​​ @tessanator97​​ @ladyartemesia​ @dayjeons​​ @djasheyash99​​ @the-rise-of-bangtan-boyz​​ @bbangtanlove95​ @zeharilisharaban​ @jungkooksgoodgirl​​ @topanga27​​ @pjmochii​​ @iwanttohitmyself​​ @veryuniquenamegoeshere​​ @bel-abysse​​ @jiminsreads​​ @jungkookspromise​​

© GguksGalaxy 2020 This is a work of fiction and is in no way meant to give an accurate representation of the idols included. Please do not steal, copy, redistribute or take uncredited inspiration from my work. 

[thecousinsdangereux]

the land of race car ya yas

A short little ficlet for @corvophobia who has drawn a bunch of art for the bees racer au of my dreams. This is ALL based on her drawings, so make sure you check out her stuff. Happy birthday, Amber! You are one of my two favorite British children. <3

(Please note that I know nothing about street racing. I've only watched the Fast and the Furious movies. Forgive me....)

--

“How’d you do that?”

Blake’s used to the question or some version of it, and maybe that’s why she takes in the words before she notices the tone, imagines a scowl (a lowered brow, hands curled into fists, the flash of teeth as the scowl turns into a snarl) with the same instinct that has her shoulders tensing. It’s only mid-turn that she realizes the question is laced with wonder rather than anger, but even this awareness doesn’t prepare her for the sight that meets her. It’s a woman, her smile wide and unrestrained by pesky things like self-consciousness or insecurity, and her eyes are nearly glowing in the low light, purple and bright and full of open admiration. Her black leather jacket, classic in cut, has the sleeves rolled up mid-forearm, revealing a prosthetic of black and yellow, and her grey jeans are tight, showing off a body that Blake has to work to avoid following the curves of. Her hair is long, blonde, curling around her shoulders and down her back, artful in its disorder, down to the single, stubborn cowlick at the top of her head.

In short, she’s beautiful, and Blake stares for longer than she should, feeling heat in her veins.

“Do what?”

She manages a response, but it’s absent minded. She’s just noticed the light dusting of pink on the woman’s cheeks, coloring the spaces in between her freckles, and it has her re-evaluating, pulling her thoughts to the effort she’s put into her own outfit that evening: a cropped and sleeveless hoodie with blocked colors of white and purple, tight leather shorts, and clunky boots that hit just under the knee. Blake looks good and this woman knows it, which makes them even on this particular front, and that's a settling sort of feeling.

“Win,” the woman says simply, her smile growing. “And don’t just say NOS.”

“NOS,” Blake drawls, just because she can, and she’s rewarded by the woman’s laugh, rewarded even more when she steps closer.

“No, but what’s your delivery method? Direct port, obviously, but you had to have used a custom kit, right? I’ve been telling you, Yang, I need to recalibrate yours. Can I look at your car? Would you mind if I just took a tiny peak just to see what you’ve done with your injection site? We really need to upgrade, Yang. A nozzle with less back pressure will give you a better squeeze. I’ve been telling you!”

She hadn’t noticed the other woman, but blinks at her now, a red blur waving her arms about, hoping from one foot to the other, firing out words faster than Blake — an aficionado of all things fast — can keep up with. The woman (Yang?) seems to find the act familiar and reacts with affection tinged with a false exasperation (put upon for Blake’s benefit or maybe as a means of gentle chiding), sighing and placing a hand on the smaller girl’s shoulder.

“And I’ve been telling you, you can’t just ask people to look at their shit!” She turns to Blake now, and this time her eye roll is definitely for Blake. “Sorry about that, I swear we’re not trying to steal any of your trade secrets. Ruby just… really likes cars.”

“It’s so pretty too,” Ruby coos, batting away Yang’s hand and taking a step towards the vehicle Blake had used to push past Yang at the last moment, a fact neither of these women seem to hold against her. “The purple stripes. But I bet the engine is prettier.”

It’s unprecedented, really. Blake’s been on the scene for a while — longer than she would admit to anyone here — first as a tagalong and now as a driver, but she’s never had an encounter quite like this. The unexpectedness of it all has her feeling off-balance, has her reacting without any of her customary cool anger as Ruby stares at her hood (as though if she focuses hard enough, she’ll be able to see through the metal to the parts underneath). Maybe that’s why Blake responds in a way that’s decidedly unwise, without any further thought at all.

“You can take a look. I don’t mind.”

“Really?” Ruby squeals, but doesn’t wait for Blake to confirm, darting around her and flipping open the hood in the span of three seconds.

“Really?” Yang asks, and the word sounds wildly different coming from her, sliding out from behind her crooked lips like thanks or maybe a challenge (or maybe both). “Not worried about my mechanic figuring you out before the next race?”

Blake should be, of course. But.

“Can’t say I am.”

“Maybe not the smartest move.” Yang crosses her arms; the chrome of her right glints under one of the flickering street lights. For the first time, she looks away from Blake’s gaze, eyes darting over to check on Ruby (who’s leaning so far into the front of Blake’s car that her feet nearly lift off the ground) and then to another group of drivers, a good distance behind them, but clearly watching in curiosity. It’s never wise to gather after a race, but everyone always does when it goes well, and for the first time, Blake’s glad for it. “She’s pretty vicious about giving me an edge. I wish I could say it was familial loyalty, but really, she just wants to make the fastest car in the city.” Yang pauses, tilting her head in thought. “Or country. Or world. Not sure when she’ll be satisfied, to be honest.”

“Sisters?” Blake asks. She can’t really see the resemblance, but then again, she hasn’t spent as much time looking at the younger of the pair, even though she should probably be less focused on the elder (the one not pouring over her engine. Sun and Ilia were going to kill her).

“Yeah.” Yang probably doesn’t realize how much her smile grows in the confirmation, saturated with pride and love. “Scary brilliant too. Give her five minutes with a car and she’ll take it apart, put it back together, and it’ll run better than it ever has. But all that means she always thinks it’s the car that puts a driver ahead.”

Blake arches a brow. “And you think she’s… wrong?”

“Well, yeah.” Yang’s closer than Blake remembers her being, maybe because her legs are long, her strides somehow longer, and it only takes a step before she’s close enough for Blake to feel the heat radiating off her body. “I know it’s only the driver that puts a driver ahead. That’s why I’m here talking to you instead of looking at your car.” Her lips twitch and she amends her statement quickly. “Part of the reason, at least.”

The other part of her reasoning is made pretty obvious when Yang’s eyes trace up Blake’s form once more. It should probably bother Blake, but it doesn’t, maybe because she’s done the same to Yang during this conversation (more than once). Still, there are things better avoided, and Blake knows this better than anyone. She does her best to get back on track.

“It wasn’t me,” she says (almost blurts), and then feels her neck warm when Yang looks at her quizzically. “Before, you asked how I won. But it wasn’t me, not really. You could have had it if you hadn’t fired your nitrous early. You were impatient.”

It’s too blunt, Blake knows this as soon as the words leave her lips. She’s backtracked too much, retreated into aloofness as she was wont to do, but Yang only laughs, and the sound cracks through Blake’s go-to defense, a corner of her lips curling before she can stop it.

“You’re right. I used to be way worse, back when I started out, but I’m a lot better now. Usually.”

“So what happened today?” It’s the question Yang wants her to ask, of this Blake is sure, but it hardly feels like a chore.

“Ah, bad luck, I guess. I took one look at the driver next to me and all that impatience came rushing back. All I wanted to do was finish the race and meet her properly.” She winks. Combined with the cheesy line, it shouldn’t work as well as it does (but it does). “I’m Yang.”

“Blake.”

They don’t shake hands, and Blake’s glad for it. There’s something buzzing between them, a tingling sensation at the tips of her fingers, the build up right before a lightning strike, and Blake’s not entirely sure what the contact — however brief and friendly — might do to her.

“Next time, maybe I’ll be a little more prepared.” Yang’s eyes roam across her face, settling once more on gold. “But probably not.”

“Immersion therapy,” Blake quips. “Give it time.”

Yang whistles sharply, and it takes Blake a moment to realize that she’s called her sister back over. (Blake had forgotten about her entirely, though the grease on her hands and face leads her to believe that Ruby had done a thorough dive under her hood, the sort Blake ought to be worried about.)

“Time is exactly what I plan on giving it. A lot of time, if you’ll let me.” Yang nudges her sister back in the direction they’d come from. Ruby waves, offers a wide grin of thanks, but Blake’s stuck on purple.

“Well. Let’s see how you do in the next race,” she murmurs.

“Looking forward to it.”

And Blake, who started racing to get away, who started racing to run, who started racing so she never had to stay in one place for long, finds that she is too.

—

“What the hell is your problem?”

Blake’s used to this question too, or some form of it, and this time, the tone is exactly what she expects. The small, white-haired woman in a vest and tie, however, is not.

“Listen, I’m sorry I hurt your boyfriend’s feelings by being a better driver than him, but you’re only embarrassing yourself now.” Blake takes another look at the woman’s attire; her sleeves are rolled up to her elbows and — despite the country club hairstyle and the heels — the hint of a tattoo on her pale skin, just under the fabric makes up Blake’s mind for her. “Or… Girlfriend?”

“Not quite,” says a familiar voice.

Today, Yang has decided to show off her abs (and she most certainly does have abs) with a cropped jacket of black and gold checks, and Blake can’t quite bring herself to look beyond that for too long, though she catches the black driving gloves, the oversized and gold sunglasses, the oversized cargo pants. In the seconds it takes for Blake to wind her brain back up, Yang grins, cocksure, and continues.

“Though you were right about the gay thing. I mean, look at her.”

“Look at you,” the other woman sniffs, actually physically turning up her nose. “Could you be any gayer?”

“Yeah, I could be wearing a vest and tie,” Yang fires back, but it’s clear the banter is familiar, it’s obvious these two know each other well enough for their back and forth to not contain any real barbs.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Blake drawls, before she’s able to stop herself, and Yang turns back to her with an arched brow. “Good to see you again, Yang.”

“Oh, is it? Could have fooled me!” The other woman’s ire has been refocused, and it’s seemingly stronger than before, the pitch of her words higher, more dire. “Given you nearly killed her just now.”

“Weiss,” Yang sighs, but Blake winces, feeling the sting of the words despite Yang’s quick glance of reassurance sent her way.

“I didn’t realize you’d pull off when I drifted. I thought you’d… lean in.”

It’s not an excuse. They’d been neck and neck towards the end of the race (again), and when she’d nudged the side of Yang’s car — far gentler than she would against anyone else — she’d assumed the woman would give as good as she got, like most every other racer she’d gone against. But Yang hadn’t taken any chances, and it’d cost her the race.

“We don’t do that here,” the woman — Weiss — says, lips pursed to the point of contortion, but Yang only laughs.

“We do that here all the time. I did way worse to Mercury last week.”

“Yes, but Mercury is a creep.” Weiss pauses, considering. “We only do that to creeps here.”

Blake’s hands lift, a show of peace. “Hey, no one handed me the Beacon Street Racing Etiquette Guide when I joined up the other week. Maybe you could loan me your copy.”

This doesn’t exactly smooth things over with the woman, especially not when Yang snickers, but Weiss can clearly see the writing on the wall, and tosses her hair over her shoulder with a huff.

“Whatever. I’m telling Ruby about this,” she warns Yang (or maybe Blake, or maybe both of them), before stalking away, her last words called over her shoulder. “She’s not going to be happy.”

There’s no concern on Yang’s face as she watches her go, if anything she looks amused. “Sorry about that. She’s… protective.”

“I can see that. I guess that’s what happens when you’ve been friends with someone for a while.” It’s a guess (and a probe), but Yang doesn’t correct any of her phrasing, so it must be close enough to the truth.

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean protective of me.” Yang’s grin shows a flash of white teeth. “Weiss bet on me tonight. You lost her money. And that’s the real sin.”

Blake’s surprised at how easily her laugh comes (more surprised how easily the fondness slips through the cracks in her chest). “Oh, I see. So I can kick your ass up and down the streets as long as I convince her to bet on me in the future? Good to know.”

“I’m not sure that’s the message I want you to be taking from this,” Yang drawls, but still smiles, flicking her glasses up to her forehead. “Besides, like she said, Ruby’s the one to look out for. She seemed all sweet and innocent yesterday, but gods help the person she turns her disapproving stare on. I’ve seen people break into tears on the spot.”

From what Blake had seen yesterday, Ruby isn’t the sort that loses her chipper bounce very easily, so despite Yang’s teasing tone, she files the information away as useful. If she were being a little more self-searching, she might question the action, given her tendency to not stick around in any one place for long. (Surely Beacon isn’t any different. Surely she couldn’t know now if it were.)

“Lucky she missed the race today, then.” Her lips curve, a sharp corner that would require a drift. “What, she couldn’t bear to see you lose again?”

“Oh, ha ha. No, she had class. And she knows there’s no skipping for racing; that’s the only hard and fast rule for our household.” It’s not what she expects, the straight answer backed with genuinity, but it strikes Blake as endearing, somehow, especially when Yang continues. “I started racing here so we could pay for those classes, so I think it’s only fair.”

“That’s — ” Kind. Authentic. Surprising. Blake’s not sure which word to use so she disgards them all. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type who was racing for the money. Not that… there’s anything wrong with that. Especially in your case.”

Yang laughs. “Hey, don’t mistake me. I started racing here for the money, but it’s not why I race in general.”

“So why do you?” Blake asks, even though she suspects she knows the answer. (It’s not wise to take your eyes off the road, but she’s done it in both of her races with Yang, eyes darting to the side to find the woman speeding alongside her: eyes wild, grin wide, the fervor of the moment all over her face. There’s freedom there, more than there is anywhere else, and Blake thinks she sees that in Yang as much as she does in herself.)

“Same as you, I think,” Yang murmurs, closer now, sliding in when Blake’s distracted once again.

“I’m not sure you know me well enough to say that.”

A bluff, of course, but it gets the intended result.

“Not yet.” From this close, Yang looks taller, and Blake has to tilt her chin to look into her eyes. “But I’m still looking to fix that.”

Blake wets her lips. It’s too much, and she’s not sure she can tack on ‘too soon’ to quantify the thought, make it less tame. If she had to guess, Yang will always be too much, like sunlight after coming out of a room. Blake’s not sure she’ll ever adjust to the rays, or if she wants to.

“Let’s see how you do in the next race,” she says again, and Yang laughs again, totally unabashed.

“Okay, I’m sensing a trend here. What, you’re not going to let me take you out unless I win a race again you?”

“If I say ‘yes’, what are you going to do?”

It’s not cockiness that overtakes Yang’s face then, not exactly. It’s confidence or want or determination or maybe just the flush that comes from the thrill of a challenge. Blake’s setting herself up for something here, she knows, failure or disappointment or something like it, but right then, she doesn’t care. There’s a freedom in this sort of race too, and that she’s come to love.

“Oh, that’s easy, Blake.” Yang leans in a little more, and Blake knows it’s audible, the way her breath is cut short. “I’m going to win.”

[lihikainanea]

LEIIII, CAN WE PLEASE TALK ABOUT BILL AND TIGER GOING THE THE MET GALA BILL FuCkINg HeR iN ThE ReStRoOm????????????????

FIRST OF ALL, I have this like, weird interest in fashion over the past two years or so. I've never particularly been into it, but now my instagram is mainly fashion inspo and like, who is this person???? I've never considered myself fashionable, much less interested in fashion and now I swear to god I spend Sunday afternoons ~judging people~ and looking up latest fashion trends and how to wear things and I am just LOVING IT. And since nobody asked, I'm going to go ahead and list you my top fucking fashion ABSOLUTELY DO FUCKING NOT pet peeves:

1) Matching pantsuits. Hello, no. I know the designers that are trying to bring this back, and it's a hard no for me dawg. I am in my almost mid thirties and I ain't trying to look like a fucking old maid, thanks. These will never be fashionable. Just stop.

2) Derby shoes. These literally don't go with anything. I'm not sorry. If you're that committed to huge, clunky, ugly fucking shoes, get clogs. I ain't saying you have to wear heels, not at all. But find yourself some nice oxfords, a nice loafer, hell even some mules--and they will be infinitely nicer than fucking derby shoes.

3) Layering. No, kids. Baum und Pferdgarten, I love you. I do. I have a few of your dresses. But ya'll motherfuckers need to stop with this pajama-esque, mixed and clashing pattern, oversized bullshit looks that you call fashion. There is a way to wear slouchy, and babes, THAT AIN'T IT. YOU LITERALLY LOOK LIKE A FUCKING WARHOL PAINTING THREW UP ON YOU. Mixing patterns is cool, we like that, but Jesus Christ it has to have some consistency.

alright, now onto the actual ask.

All of this to say, I kept a keen eye on the Met Gala this year and I was...perplexed. At best. Horrified, at worst.

So like, tiger right? There's little else in the world that tiger hates as much as Bill's outwardly Hollywood side. The parties. The schmoozing. And I mean, she knows it's part of his life so that's fine, but in fairness--Bill also abhors this side. He loathes it. And he's been to the Met gala once, which notoriously never allows a +1 unless that +1 is famous, but low and behold--by some stroke of luck--Bill's invitation this year allows for it.

"No." tiger says immediately.

"You don't even know what I'm going to ask!" he exclaims.

"I know what that is," she points to the invitation in his hand, "And no."

It's a hard no. It takes Bill weeks--because like, tiger ain't Hollywood. She doesn't want to do the dress. She doesn't want the mingling with fucking celebrity guests. She doesn't want the paparazzi. She wants none of it. But like, eventually--after so much begging--eventually Bill gets her to agree. His stylist will get a dress for her. Hair and make up is taken care of. Bill promises her that she can just slip in the back, sit at the table, and have cocktails to her heart's galore while he walks the red carpet. She doesn't have to be photographed--and truth be told, tiger's a nobody so people aren't really interested in photographing her anyway. That's fine by her.

The dress worries her, because tiger isn't exactly celebrity material but the stylist is so kind in taking measurements. Bill handles everything--the flights, the make up reservations, the hair appointments. On the day of, he checks them into the Bowery Hotel and then tiger doesn't have to worry about a thing. He shoves a fluffy robe at her, and then there's just a flurry of activity--massages first. Breakfast after. A stint in the steam room--which they absolutely have sex in. Facials. Manicures--for both. A light lunch. And then the bell rings and in come a flurry of a team ready to glamorize them--Bill's favourite groomer, his stylist, tiger's make up artist, her hair stylist. The primping process is the longest tiger has ever been through--but there's wine, there's snacks, her Big Dude is right beside her looking handsome as all hell. And when tiger puts on a dress that is worth more than she makes in a year, when her hair is all done up and her make up is perfect--she begrudgingly admits to him that yes, Beeeeeel, she does feel pretty.

"You look stunning kid," he praises, pressing a gentle kiss on her cheek. To her slight embarrassment (but secret joy), he hands his phone off to his assistant and asks for a few pictures.

And like, here's the thing right? The Met Gala has a strict policy: no spouses or couples seated together. Seriously, it's a thing. Look it up. And while tiger is mildly freaking out about that, she calms down considerably when she does see a name tag at her table that she recognizes.

Alex. Skarsgård.

Tiger smiles, Bill grimaces.

And that's what starts it, right? Bill is at a table far away but not too far, and right where he can keep her in his line of sights. He knows she wasn't looking forward to this so he wants to keep an eye on her, but then like....why the fuck does she look like she's having so much fun? Alex is cracking the whole table up, being his usual charismatic self. Tiger is laughing, guffawing actually, beyond control--her hand on his, clutching his forearm. Bill barely even makes conversation with his own table, he's staring so intently at the two of them and tiger looking like she's having the best night of her life.

Bill's blood is boiling. It boils even more when he sees tiger make a face at her main plate--her nose wrinkling, her lip curled in disgust--and without missing a beat Alex's fork swoops over, plucks all the green onions from her food, and tiger smiles gratefully at him. Bill slams his napkin down on the table.

"Excuse me," he mutters in response to the curious glances. And then he stalks over, heads right to her table, and he's so silent that she jumps a mile when she hears his voice in her ear from behind her.

"A word, kid?" he says.

"But the food just--"

"Now." he says insistently. He holds a hand out to her, helps her push her chair back and stand. But then he's basically dragging her to a restroom, and poor tiger isn't quite used to heels this high.

"Hang on bud," she pleads, "I'm not that coordinated."

But he doesn't hang on. Instead he reaches back, loops a strong arm around her waist and basically carries her on his side to the bathroom. Tiger's feet don't hit the floor for a good 200 feet. And once inside the bathroom, he locks the door and glares at her.

"If that dress wasn't couture, I'd have you on your fucking knees kid," he threatens. Tiger's eyes get wide.

"What did I do?" she asks innocently. Bill just glares.

"Having a good time, are you? Having the best night ever?" he accuses.

Tiger is starting to get a feeling what this is about, and oh man--she's about to rile her Big Dude up. Dressed to the nines, in a public place, surrounded by riches, and Bill is about to get a bit possessive over her? Tiger is a sucker for it every time.

"Yes," she plays into it, "Alex is being amazing. He's so--"

She doesn't get to finish the sentence, because Bill growls and lunges for her, pinning her back against the cool tile.

"You are mine," he snarls. Tiger just tilts her chin up, bites onto his bottom lip.

"Prove it." she challenges.

The roar Bill lets out is fucking feral. Tiger doesn't even have time to react before her dress is pulled up, he yanks his belt undone, and he's slamming into her. She moans, and he grabs her face in his hand.

"Don't come," he snarls, "Don't you dare come."

And like the good girl she is for him--she doesn't. She grits her teeth, tries to stave it off even as he slams deep into her, growls as his release fills her up, bites her neck hard enough to leave a mark. She whimpers, her knees wobbly, and tries to reach for a tissue.

"No," he grabs her hand.

"But it's messy," she pleads. But another glare is enough to silence her, and he swiftly pulls her panties up, smoothes her dress back down.

"You're going to sit there, full of my come for the rest of the night," he tells her, "And I want you to think of that, I want you to feel it, every time you look at him."

"Bill--" she whimpers. He silences her with a rough kiss.

"Go on," he said, "Back to your seat."

On shaky legs, she turns and tries to walk out as nonchalant as possible. He waits a few minutes before exiting, going to find his seat and sitting back down. He keeps an eye on her for the rest of the evening, but he doesn't even have to--every time he looks over at her, she's already staring at him--her eyes wide, needy, her knees pressed tightly together.