#the part about the mail carrier is a joke

[chaoticbooklesbian]

I bought the Important Internet Person Checkmarks, because it's funny as hell, and also I have a package out for delivery and all of my self control is going towards not tracking down the mail carrier.

[witchinatree]

i have posted a LOT about the issues i had with season 4 of TUA but i'm going to say everything i've been thinking right here right now. i cannot get this shit out of my head.

i think a lot of it ties back to the flaws i noticed in season 3, they tried to take on too much and abandoned the previous storylines that were waiting for them (viktor's traumatic relationship with leonard, five's trauma in general, lila's parents dying because of five, DAVE, etc etc) and we were all expecting them to tie it all together in season 4

instead they just.. added more..???? jennifer and abigail were thrown in late season 3 and were just suddenly supposed to be super important to us (they were not.) the subway that takes you to other timelines (objectively cool as fuck, why is this only introduced in the last season of The Timeline Show)

and i'm still really upset that reginald is an alien because it makes no fucking sense. i always assumed he created the mystery 43 babies (why else would he seek them out and already have a plan for them) but the alien route was.. ill-fitting. i think it would've worked better if he fell in love with abigail, who was an alien and created marigold, and then his hubris and curiosity was what unleashed it into the world and doomed the timeline. "sure this mystery chemical destroyed the planet my wife is from but i'm reginald hargreeves so that won't happen to me!" [happens to him] also i wish abigail was not just used as "see! abuser not so bad! abuser have wife! he love wife :]" because. what. and then her weird complaints about reginald in episode 6 that came out of nowhere confused me. they just should've written her entirely different if they were gonna have her at all

AAALSO i hated that they regressed all of the characters back to how they were in season 1 (or worse??). luther was living in the old umbrella academy building because apparently he will never leave it?? after everything?? diego's life was different but he was still doing this weird job shit (discount batman and mail carrier are the same thing) and he was miserable with his loving wife and kids (who ARE you.). allison's husband left her again (what the hell raymond) and she was still the neglectful single mother of claire?? after EVERYTHING I KNOW I ALREADY SAID THAT BUT GOD. klaus actually had something going for him, if only his recovery wasn't made into a joke, and then he relapsed and got kidnapped and was just very.. season 1 klaus.. but with no ghost ben anymore. five.. eugh. he was not season 1 five he was just NotFive. crazy how they had a magnus archives crossover and just brought in NotThem to take five am i right guys. ben's also different because it's not the same ben from season 1 but they just made him really fucking mean. like worse than season 3 because there wasn't that underlying "please i just want to be loved" thing. crypto bro ben was funny as fuck though. and VIKTOR just fucked off by himself after working so hard to be part of the family again. glad he got to transition and become canada's #1 manslut but jesus, just abandoned everything you did to be part of the family huh.

my vision for the ending of TUA would go something like this

ending of season 3, pretty much the same but they all have their powers and reginald's head getting sliced in half did not reveal him to be some alien freak. also at some point abigail would have been introduced. i don't feel like rewriting season 3 too okay i'm cutting corners.

luther finds sloane when he goes back to where the umbrella academy building used to be, but it's now a very lovely apartment that the two of them live in together. they host all of the family gatherings for sentimental and space reasons. i think luther would explore the stripper idea but decide not to follow it because of sloane. sloane would be fine with it but luther would still get worried.

diego and lila live in the same house somewhat nearby. lila's family (they do get to be alive but lila does have to overcome the trauma of losing them while simultaneously getting them back) are their neighbors, it was the compromise they came to because diego wanted their house to be their space but lila wanted her family close. they have three kids who are each loved and names get to be in the fucking show. (looking at you mystery twin. grace and coco (?) didn't really get much attention either). they have a big backyard that the kids all play in together when they're visiting

allison and ray are still together and they have claire (maybe another kid...) they also live somewhat nearby the rest of the umbrella family because i refuse to let them separate. i don't have much to say about them other than RAY DID NOT WALK OUT ON HER.

klaus and dave live in allison and ray's neighborhood. maybe they adopted a kid? maybe they didn't? i think their family would be really cute either way. klaus is still overcoming his addiction and dave supports him through it. it's not made into a joke and actually gives klaus a lot of depth and emotional moments. also just in general dave meeting the rest of the family would be really really sweet

five gets to retire. he lives with viktor in my mind. full circle on viktor being the person who always waited for him and offered him a place to stay after he got home in season 1. five would not actually be getting a retirement pay because he has never had a real job so he's just vik's roommate now. he could have a romance plotline with a woman working at the department store down the street named delores. she looks familiar.

ben lives alone and works at a tech company? honestly i don't know what i would do with him in the pre-plot but it would not be put him in jail?? me personally. i think he would probably move further away than everyone else but stay close enough so he could visit sloane sometimes. he still feels like an outsider but doesn't know how to tell the umbrellas he wants to be their brother now

and viktor lives with sissy harlan and five (previously mentioned). his transition gets to actually be explored (PLEASE.), harlan is in therapy, and sissy is a strong working woman!! again i don't really know what to do with him pre-plot. just know he's the happiest he's ever been!!!

and just in general, a lot of this happiness from all of them comes from their powers and that they can finally be one big happy family together (whether ben likes it or not). setting up the inherent tragedy that comes with perfection

episode 1 opens by showing everything i just explained, the tragedy of getting everything you want or whatever the title was. their powers are still integral to their lives. they're either tied to their careers (luther would probably be like a wrestler or something again, diego could try police work again because i want that to be explored) or other aspects of their existence (allison still finds herself doubting how much of her life is real, klaus' relapses are always caused by his trauma surrounding ghosts, five sometimes space jumps when he wants to be alone [also i think he could feel some sort of shame/guilt because he lives with viktor and can't really contribute much without the commission. not really his fault though because of his insanely fucked timeline], ben uses the squid to carry things or grab things that are far away, and viktor plays the violin to help him remind himself that he is in control of his power now, and he won't end the world again)

the main conflict starts when ben meets a new woman named jennifer and shakes her hand when introducing himself (starting the marigold/durango reaction that builds very slowly throughout the season.) it could be romantic but i think it's just devestating. they're slowly realizing they're losing everything they worked so hard for because of something they can't control

yadda yadda yadda figuring shit out while also having conflicts in their life from the earlier seasons and it culminates in the old umbrella academy building, viktor is the only person who can remove the durango and marigold from ben and jennifer and save the world. he finally gets to be the hero, be the one to stop the end of the world instead of cause it, but he needs to take the marigold from each of the siblings in order to balance the amount of durango jennifer had (no idk why he would let the other like 30 something marigold kids keep theirs i really don't know how to fix that. why would they do this to me)

each of the siblings have to give up part of their lives, part of their identities, and it's hard for them!!! they struggle a lot to agree to do it!!! and it's also harder for them because they don't know if viktor will survive doing this. but he's the only one who can? is his life more important than the existence of everything and everyone? ultimately, they all give up their marigold, and viktor takes all of it and the durango to save everyone. it cancels itself out and stops the cleanse reaction, and i think it would kill viktor (but it doesn't have to). we see that same clip of the 'perfect world' but they get to be in it. they were never the problem. lila and diego play in the park with their kids. allison ray and claire are walking together. klaus and dave are talking on a bench. luther and sloane are carrying a large basket of food. ben and five are helping them set up the picnic. harlan is sitting in the grass with sissy next to him. each of the adults have a small violin tattoo on their wrists. their lives will never be as perfect as they were before, but they can finally just rest and move on. because it was never their fault.

also reginald dies. fuck that guy

[lowkeyrobin]

hello could you write like mcyts and reader moving in together but they like mess it all up and they vlog it and everything just like goes wrong 💀

yeah sure!! i only did a few bc I ran out of ideas for some / was just kinda too lazy bc they would've been the same ; but thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy! ; also sorry if this wasn't what you rlly requested? idk lol

MCYT ; moving in

includes ; tommyinnit, ranboo, badlinu, maxggs

warnings ; language

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

you were moving into his apartment because having to move all his shit would've been too much and yours would've been way easier

he decided to vlog most of it because it would've been funny

he dropped one of the boxes full of ceramic plates and bowls

heart DROPPED

"tommy..."

"they aren't broken!!"

he actually felt so bad

but you both accidently broke your bed frame and you had to get a new one

the vlog was just full of moments of you failing to rebuild things and getting screws and nails mixed up & not knowing what part goes where on your bed frame, shelves, tables etc

you had a 5 min montage of angry karaoke (but singing along to very poppy / dance kinda songs like espresso, femininominon, etc etc)

he can vibe to hot to go, trust

that man has never moved so majestically til he danced to hot to go guys

RANBOO

surprisingly you didn't break anything

but things came in broken...

he literally replaced it all because he felt so bad about the mail carriers breaking it

literally opened a soaking wet box to find a broken lava lamp surrounded by soaking newspapers covered in green liquid and glitter

the whole vlog was just attempts to rebuild your things

building a chair pt2!

but seriously there was no reason your PC needed to be so difficult

you both dropped damn near everything or misplaced it 💀 you found a potted plant you misplaced like 3 weeks later in the bathroom. literally came out of no where

"we found the missing plant!"

MAXGGS

FREDDIE BADLINU

he moved in with you cause he needed to get away from ranboo 💀 (true story /lh)

but, during the moving process, you'd somehow lost a whole box of his clothes?

come to find out they were just shoved in a hallway closet for a month before finding them again?

"part 34 of something going bad... we can't get his setup to actually... set up"

"I'm convinced we somehow broke my mic"

his guitar needed serious retuning... he broke it out to make a joke and your ears were just met with an awful screeching noise atp

"freddie!-"

"sorry, needs retuning!"

no because why was putting the comforter back on his mattress the hardest thing ever

a traumatizing experience

you both learned that you can't be trusted with building simple things with instructions

he accidently broke one of the pots to a fake plant of yours and just looked up like "😨"

you both gave up on setting your bedframe up for like a week

he posted on instagram a pic of you sleeping on the floor, on your mattress, beside your unmade bedframe and captioned it "we couldn't figure out how to rebuild their bedframe"

tommy replied by saying "get tubbos dad"

you also learned that his whole kitchen is like backwards. like why is the fridge right next to the sink? why is there an electrical outlet basically on top of the oven? why are his cabinets so unorganized?

you refused to cook for like 3 weeks and only got stuff off ubereats

[shadow0haven]

I'm gonna do some rambling below about the Malev Christmas thing a little bit because people have been saying people have taken it too seriously and I want to explore/explain why I think people are upset and why I agree/my thoughts.

So HG released a christmas episode for malev and its a silly and campy episode of jokes and a "they get snowed in on christmas" episode like from a sitcom.

Honestly, that would have been nice from the get go. It's an interesting and trope I enjoy so I was ready to listen, until I heard negativity.

People are claiming that people hate the special specifically because HG makes fun of shippers. It's not *just* those two specific lines about shippers that I see people being upset about. It's quite a lot more.

For the longest time, Harlan has been poking fun at shippers in a lot of lines, in livestreams, in jokes and specials he puts out on patreon. A lot of the patreon people aren't mad or upset specifically because he does it, but because it's done so often. We KNOW Jarthur is never going to be Canon. We don't need a reminder constantly in the specials that they aren't canon and never will be, because it's a horror podcast and it's been explicitly stated all over John and Arthur are platonic in canon and always will be as far as we know. Having it constantly joked about when we know it won't happen is tiring.

A joke is made about the mail delivery person hating Arthur and loving John. On server and in conversation, etc, it's come up that HG finds it weird people like John, or Yellow, or other characters, more than Arthur. He also does "playful teasing" about people who enjoy certain characters or make certain theories, while also being annoyed people don't like Arthur more. A lot of us DO like Arthur, but not certain aspects of the character or how the character handled certain situations. That doesn't mean we hate the character. Part of this I think stems from HG having said that Arthur is "basically him", saying that Arthur is a self insert. That's fine and dandy, but it does make a lot of us uncomfortable for a lot of situations when we try to separate the character from a real person when the person playing the character insists "the character is me". This isn't a slight against HG, but I find it frustrating and that it ruined a bit of the "this is a narrative based around fictional characters etc" when the creator insists the main character is his self insert and essentially just him. Self inserts are cool! I also have my own! But there has to be a degree of separation that people aren't getting and it makes a lot of us uncomfortable.

A joke by the mail carrier also about "people going online and arguing for a living" or something along those lines. A lot of people that enjoy the show also critique it, make theories, and always talk about ways things could be handled better or how things could have turned out. Yes, there are people who are strictly only negative because they dislike HG for a myriad of reasons, and this joke felt like it was aimed specifically at these people that have issue with him, his interactions with fans, and the way he's handled things in the past that was just... unneeded.

On a less serious note, there were things that were just not my style in which I myself specifically don't vibe with the special. It was very campy and cracky, which is what it was obviously going for. For ME, I just wasn't into the "staged sitcom script because of Kayne" deal. And that's okay! Just because it wasn't my mileage, doesn't mean it was bad for other people. Like how I don't read certain kinds of fanfiction because they just aren't for me, this special just wasn't for me because of the tone of it.

I know there are probably more things, or things I'm forgetting, I know there was more teasing about "Arthur having PTSD but he can get over it in seconds" joke that made me a little meh, some of the jokes were funny and gave me a good chuckle, but I think this is the main reason people are having issue with the special.

To clarify, I'm talking about JUST the Christmas special and not the show itself. Just this specific episode. If I wanted to talk about why I and other people have issues with the show, or if people were interested in what I think, I'd make another post.

This is NOT a hate post, but simply talking about why I myself take issue with several aspects of the special, as well as why others (and the reasons I've heard from others) have mentioned about it.

Your mileage may vary, etc etc. I still enjoy the show and the characters very much, but sometimes this kind of stuff makes it difficult.

[i-have-read-homestuck]

I forgot about this blog but I'm currently in Act 4 part 6 of the Let's Read Homestuck series on YouTube (I figured out this works way better then using the website) and the Rose and Dave timeline is so sad??? It was a super abrupt transition but like. I feel so bad for these kids and their jokes and irony and weird relationships with each other and it's just so sad to see this other universe where there's only the two of them. I really hope they all get the happy ending they deserve.

Also I think it's nice that the mayor of can town, warning tape mummy guy, and mail carrier are getting along.

[illusionaryneil]

HEY hey you tell me about your ocs

AAAAAAA heckyeah sure!!! do not know which ocs you would like me to tell you about so i will just talk about a bunch of them i think!!

Fletcher is one of my favorites so gonna talk about her first dskjgs she is a comic artist who in the story they are the main character for is moving back to her old hometown after going to college in a nearby city! he is a huge video game fan, specifically enjoying a lot of sega games! he would totally own all of their consoles i think lol! i think they are extremely competitive, specifically with others like Seth!

Sophia is another one of my absolute favorites really need to draw her more!! she is a music artist who plays guitar and sings for a band she started with a few friends! i think in between doing stuff with her band she would work in a local grocery store in the town they live is as well. i don't think she would be like the biggest fan of games, but since they live with Fletcher they would have a lot of fun watching her play games and would sometimes join! i think she would be more into stuff like puzzles and stuff like that and would introduce fletcher to them more and stuff!!

Seth is so gsjkhd i love him a lot! he is also a comic artist and went to the same college that Fletcher went to and they met there! Seth already lived in the city having grown up there, but during the events of the story he is part of he by chance moves to the same town Fletcher moved back to. for context the two had a pretty bad falling out so the two of them seeing each other in town jumpscared them both gsdjkhgs Seth is also be a huge fan of video games, being more of a fan of nintendo games and stuff! i think alongside that he would be a fan of gardening! now that he lives in a place with the space to do so, he would probably have a really big garden in both his front and backyards!! Seth also likes to mess around with others by joking with them and playing tricks!

Sticker is a green june beetle who works as a mail carrier in the small town they live in! they probably never ventured out far into the forest that the story he is part of takes place in, but despite that he would still enjoy exploring the safer outskirts of town and discovering new things! during exploring he would also come across Cheesecake who is a small bug that was stranded, so he would end up adopting and caring for them alongside doing their work! despite being adventurous, Sticker is very cautious with their surroundings, becoming even more cautious after having Cheesecake fall into his care!

Dew is a being consisting of various types of fungi! they are a Forest Guardian, which in the story they are in is someone who takes up the task to guard not only their hometown but to help and protect those who also reside in the forest! they act very serious, just trying their best to do what they have been tasked with. i think upon meeting Sticker during the events of the story though they would become more relaxed! they probably spend most of their time traveling trying to find ways to help others, so they have a memorized path of a large part of the forest, or at least the section they live within.

Nostalgia is a character who is heavily inspired by the album View-Monster by Lemon Demon! they eternally wander in a realm consisting of the memories of others and has been tasked to guard and watch over this realm. within this realm they have their own pocket dimension that resembles a regular bedroom. in this room they have a computer where they receive assignments from those who assigned them as a guard, but it also contains Edward. the space they reside in does not have much to do, but in their free time they enjoy spending time online and watching movies and shows! they are somewhat anxious, having such a serious task assigned to them, but they are very dedicated to the tasks they are given and oftentimes ends up enjoying what they have to do!! they are another that i really want to draw more art for!!

Edward is heavily inspired by the song One Weird Tip by Lemon Demon, being a piece of adware and spyware heavily inspired by desktop assistants like Clippy! they oftentimes cause trouble on purpose for their own entertainment, being rather sneaky as well about what they are doing or what they are capable of doing. besides this though, they are close friends with Nostalgia who they have to share a space with and always makes sure to let them know that he is just joking around! deep down i think Edward wishes that he could be human but would only want to be one if they could still be around Nostalgia.

[gummybear1031]

Today, the randomizer chose a movie called "Werewolves Within."

It was okay. I'd watch it again.

Livetweets under the cut.

I’ve never heard of “Werewolves Within,” but I’m a big werewolf fan. I once wrote about werewolves as a metaphor for puberty, especially AFAB puberty due to it being a blood curse based on 28-day cycles.

Is this movie making a motivational quote from Mr. Rogers scary? This is exactly my sense of humor, y’all.

More proof that you should never say “Hello” in a horror movie.

“Let’s all chant the word ‘balls.’”

Did Tumblr make a movie and forget to tell me?

No. The people would be hornier toward the monsters if that had happened.

Beaverfield is probably in Oregon. There’s both a Beaver and Beaverton there. Beaver has great cheese, and Beaverton is a suburb of Portland.

Cecily the Mailperson (actually Mail Carrier) looks really familiar. I can’t figure out where I know her from, though.

Yep. This is Oregon. This is the most Oegon place I’ve ever seen. And I grew up in Boring.

Does every mail carrier everywhere know all of the gossip? Ours knows everything, too.

“You will be shot.” Oh! They’re from the same part of Oregon I am: West West Idaho.

Cecily is Lily from AT&T! My spouse has a crush on her.

Of course, it’s kombucha. Because Oregon. Axe throwing! Another treasured eastern Oregon tradition! I’m surprisingly good at it despite having grown up on a dairy farm and never using an axe before.

Ugh. Whitman. I have a whole transcendentalist rant locked and loaded. “King of DIY Lit.” Bullshit. His sister and mom were feeding him the whole damn time. Anytime anyone is doing something all by themselves it’s because someone is doing all the invisible labor.

WOW! Finn is dumb AF.

They’re trapped in the town with no way out and no electricity and a killer werewolf (that ate a possibly racist dog). Things should get exciting.

Finn being the only Black man in town is actually accurate to Oregon, the state so racist it banned enslaved people in order to have fewer people of color!

This werewolf is smart. It killed everybody’s generators.

And buried a body. Which means it wasn’t hungry when it killed that dude at the beginning.

Good job of burying the lede, Finn!

The screaming is hilarious.

Enviro lady is so creepy. I love her. They’re setting her up as an obvious red herring.

Cecily is handling Finn’s bullshit way better than I would. I would’ve left him for the Bundy-acolyte to shoot and eat.

Dr. Jane is my favorite character in this movie. Top Ten most characters ever.

This town is immediately turning on each other; exactly as it should be.

Everybody’s convinced Emerson’s the murderer, but he looks just like my brother-in-law and acts like my late uncle. He makes me feel safe.

So many of these jokes are just brilliant in their simplicity.

There are only 11 people in this town, and they’re all the worst/dumbest people alive. This movie truly captures what living in a small town is like.

The gun conversation just continues that. The church my dad goes to had to make a rule that nobody can open carry inside. They tried to say nobody could conceal carry either, but people got angry. And someone threatened to bring her “purse gun” to every board meeting, choir practice, etc.

She’s going to shoot Pete more than the monster is going to eat him. It looks like he was shot in the upper chest. Dude is going to bleed out.

Also Dr. Jane knows way more than she’s admitting.

Don’t shoot through the door, lady! You’ve damaged the structural integrity. That makes it easier for people or werewolves to break through.

Bullshit. Oil Dude shot Dr. Jane so she wouldn’t be able to stop his pipeline.

Gwen is so excited that everybody is pointing guns at each other. She’s just dancing in the background making finger guns.

I like the motivational speech not working. Also, “I hope you dildos get eaten” is great. I’ve never used that as an insult, but it’s good.

Like, you’re not even a dick. You’re a pale, plastic, lifeless imitation.

I have a bear spray story! My sister (the psychic) wasn’t sure how to use the bear spray and thought it was like mosquito spray. Fortunately, another hiker stopped her in time.

Holy crap! She just straight up killed him for greed! The werewolf has only killed one dude at this point. And Trish just evened her kill count.

“I taped knives to my hand!” is the most eastern Oregon shit ever.

Trish has killed more people than the werewolf.

The townspeople have killed more people than the werewolf has. I mean, maybe the werewolf killed people in the other two towns, but in this one, it’s only killed a person.

Cecily is a werewolf!

“I ate them.” I feel like that’s the most punk way for a shitty high school punk band to break up.

Calling out the whole manic pixie dream girl thing is great. Also, eating the hand of the lower back hand guy. And yes, you should’ve eaten both hands.

Finn’s right. There’s nothing being wrong with being nice. Until you’re trying to talk to the murderous werewolf like she’s a friend.

Get her, Emerson! If anybody’s going to beat up the werewolf it’s him!

Nevermind.

I do want to point out that the villain has only two kills in this movie versus the rest of the town people. The werewolf and Trish the Craft Lady have the same body count.

Did he just stab her with snowshoes? So that’s where those were.

Emerson’s alive, which means Trish the Craft Lady has a higher body count than the murderous werewolf.

My closed captions completely covered Cecily climbing back to her feet. But I saw her once she stood up.

“Make your own damn sandwich” is a pretty good ending line.

For some reason, this reminded me of an Agatha Christie story. Enjoyable but not my favorite thing. And that’s not going to stop me from picking it up again.

[siempre-bucky]

Sending Letters Home

Headcanons ft. Rooster | Hangman | Bob | Fanboy

summary: headcanons about some of the guys sending letters to you while they're away

warnings: brief allusions to sex, fem!reader

a/n: i had one idea about rooster and it spiraled into this...enjoyyy

Rooster prefers calling and video chats while he’s away, he loves to hear the sound of your voice at every given opportunity.

 He has some letters that his dad wrote to his mom, which was nice and all…but being able to see you made him feel like he was right there instead of an ocean away.

But then he dropped his phone into the ocean 

It wasn’t like it fell over during a storm on the carrier or something heroic 

A little kid bumped into him while he was trying to take a picture of the view while they were docked 

Sending his phone into the ankle deep water 

The poor guy froze for a while and simply watched his phone fall to the sand

“Think it’ll work again?” he asked Phoenix after begging their cook for rice to put his phone in 

“Give it a couple of days,” she said, patting him on the back 

“I’m supposed to call her tomorrow,” he said solemnly as he swished the container back and forth 

Phoenix smirked and pointed to his desk, “There’s always the old fashion way… mail goes out tomorrow.”

Rooster sat there for at least an hour trying to find the right words 

He paced the room and took breaks without a word on the page

“Talk to me dad, what would you write?” 

You didn’t expect a letter from Bradley a week later, knowing he didn’t write to anyone 

But Jake also called and laughed hysterically about Rooster’s phone incident 

Rooster wrote you the most beautiful letter, telling you how much he missed you and how everything he saw reminded him of you. He told you about his time on the carrier and the places he got to see while they were docked 

He fails to mention his phone 

“Will you write me another letter,” you asked once he was finally back home and you were wrapped in his arms 

He looked at his letter pinned on the corkboard frame by your dresser “You really liked it?” 

He smiled brightly and held you tighter as you nodded and he promised to write you all the time 

Jake loves the romance of it all 

sendiing a handwritten letter to a lover just makes his heart soar 

Every time he ships out he takes the personalized stationery from his family’s ranch to write on 

Seeing the Seresin’s logo every time you opened his letters made you smile 

Jake had a way with words, the southern charm really came out when he wrote to you 

He’ll tell you that he loves you, but it’s a whole page of him describing how you make him feel 

‘I’ve never felt a love like this before you.’

‘You make me want to come home and fly safer—can’t imagine my life without you, Darlin.’

Of course, he hypes himself up too and tells you about his successful missions and training exercises 

always, always, always reassures you that he’s ok and will come back home to you safely 

Sprays his letters with his cologne 

You always know there’s a letter in your pile of mail by the way it smells 

You keep a small box of his letters that he’s sent you over the years in your closet, pulling one out when you miss him 

His spicier letters always go in the drawer of your bedside table 

When he’s home you make him read the letters to you 

“Read me the part where you tell me how pretty I am,” you said, only half joking as you hand him one of the pages 

He pulls you into his lap and attaches his lips to your neck 

“I could always just show you, Darlin’,” he grumbles, his accent slapped on thick while his hands roamed your sides 

You hummed in delight but gently pushed him away 

He pouted and threw his head on the back of the couch boyishly

“I wanna hear it in your pretty voice, start us a bath and I’ll get my favorites,” you told him with a smirk

Jake smiled and considered it a win/win situation 

You sat in front of him in the tub, one of his hands running a loofa along your chest while he held the letter away from the water, whispering all the pretty words in your ear 

Bob wrote letters for his little family 

He’d always sent you letters over the years you’d been together

Bob cutely asked if he could send you letters while he was away right after you began dating 

You knew you were each other's soulmate from the very beginning so naturally, you said yes

He thought it would be a good way to help his daughters with their reading by sending them their own letter

Each envelope contained four letters: one for Amy, one for Jo, one for you that was paired with some polaroids that were meant for your eyes only, and one to read together 

“Girls! Your dad sent us mail!” you called, sticking the photos that were wrapped in another sheet of paper in your back pocket 

The girls ran from their spots and gasped as they saw the mail in your hands 

You passed them their letters but they both looked up at you longingly, “Let’s go,” you giggled 

The girls ran to the couch and eagerly waited for you to start reading 

Josephine always curled up to your side while Amy sat on the floor with her head resting on your knees (she was a daddy’s girl and didn’t want you or her annoying little sister to see her cry) 

“For my Floyd girls…” 

“Are you crying already?” Josephine cackled 

“Shut up, Josephine!” 

“Four eyes,” Jo mumbled 

“Baby…” Amy bit back 

Ironically the first sentence was Bob telling the girls not to make fun of each other 

After the girls went to bed with the read letters sitting on their tables, you read your letter in private, wiping away the tears that always seemed to fall 

“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” he told you over the phone later that night, trying not to laugh 

“I can’t help it. I miss you so much,” you tell him, finding yourself trying not to laugh at how fast the tears came while you clutched the paper to your chest. “Your letter was beautiful.” 

“I’ll be home in a few days, I miss you so much—I really miss you.” 

You clenched your thighs at the sudden change of tone 

Your fond smile turned into a sly grin, putting the letter down and picking up the pictures he managed to take of himself for you. “You outdid yourself with these, Robby,” you said, biting back a moan. 

“Only for you, my love.” 

Mickey loved sending you letters when he had no signal 

He always had something to tell you 

He often found himself being cut off by signal failure when you two got to talk 

“So we were in the air, right and then another plane came in an-” his face fell when he heard the small beeps 

“Mi amor? Baby? Can you hear me? Shit…” 

His letters contained heavy detail about everything 

Training? Pain painstakingly in depth 

The whales he saw? You got at least three pages about them 

“Another thick one, Mrs. Garcia,” your mailman let out a big belly laugh as he handed you the envelope 

You were surprised the envelope managed to close with how thick it was 

It was at least a month or two worth of pages sitting on your bed

Fanboy didn’t send letters…he sent novels 

But then again, you loved a long read 

He included little doodles of airplanes and ocean animals in the corners 

You remembered your first date when the WSO barely said a word out of nerves 

But after you mentioned a tv show you both liked he hasn’t shut up since 

You liked that he sent long letters, it occupied the time while he was away 

It made you miss him slightly less 

“I think you should be a writer,” you told him playfully over a video call 

You swooned as those pearly white teeth flashed when he smiled, his gorgeous laugh was music to your ears 

“I think I’m a better WSO, mi amor,” he countered 

“I don't know, Mickey, your page about going through that mountain was riveting.” 

“You think?” 

You nodded and showed him a binder filled with the letters he sent you 

His smile faded a little, “I wish I could keep them that organized,” he told you as he held up a couple that you sent him 

Shaking your head you sighed, “You kept them, that’s all that matters to me.” 

“I kept every one of ‘em.”

[softtdaisy]

TO THE GIRL I LOVE

DESCRIPTION I after your best friend posted a stupid message online, you get lots of letters. But is it really bad when it gives you the opportunity to see peter parker every morning?

PAIRING I tasm!mailman!peter parker x reader

WORD COUNT I 4.3k

A/N I I'm so happy to be part of the Mail carrier may collaboration! It was super lovely to write about Peter like this. Make sure to read the others fics and give love to these amazing writers. And I love you will love this story ♡

It all started with a joke. 

Your best-friend put a message on your university group saying you were looking for love. And that if anyone was interested, they had to send you a letter to express their desire for you.

Were you looking for love? Yes, in a certain way. You’ve been single for two years now, and your last boyfriend was…meh. He was the reason you gave up on love all that time. What was the purpose of dealing with someone who doesn’t give you at least half the attention you’re giving them? So yeah, now you were ready to try again. But you didn’t have high hopes on this thing.

You were sure this wouldn’t work out. Who would lose their time to write a letter to someone they didn’t know? But it was funny to see the comments under the post saying you were the princess they wanted to save. That they were going to write you the best letter you’ve ever seen, and you couldn’t help but fall in love with their words. Which was a funny thing, considering you were studying literature. Some say you were just looking for attention. 

And you thought, why not enjoy this moment of celebrity for once?

You were convinced you wouldn’t get any letters. And you were fine with it.

But that was until you saw Peter Parker that morning.

You knew Peter from last year. You were in the same writing class, even if he was majoring in science. He was a sweet and discreet guy. The kind of person you wouldn’t notice if you didn’t know they were there. But you knew. Because you were sitting next to each other, firstly. Then because you were interested in what Peter was saying.

Your friendship never went on outside the class. You never forgot about the sweet Peter Parker who wrote the most awesome poem last year. You were the one who correct it, still because you were the person next to him. And you were impressed by his words. But Peter didn’t have the courage to read it. So, in the end, beside your professor, you were the only one knowing about it.

You thought you wouldn’t see Peter again this year. You still shared the same writing class, but you weren’t next to each other this time. And without this proximity, you never talked. 

But you were seeing Peter Parker this year. Every morning. Because he was the mail carrier of the year.

Your university had its own mail system, meaning every student could receive a letter from outside or inside the campus. And every year, a mail carrier is chosen between the students who want to do it. You were not really surprised to see Peter taking this role. You remembered him telling you he was living alone with his aunt before he arrived here. So, you guess he needed money to pay for his study.

Plus, it gave him a good reason to skateboard around the campus. You were sure it was the reason that made him accept the job.

You barely got any mails during the year, except for your birthday. Until that morning. Two days after the message on the group.

You were coming back from your morning classes when you met Peter in front of your students’ residence. He always looked the same: wearing a sweater with the hood on his head, leaving only a few strands of hair flying with the wind when he was skating. He had ripped jeans and converses on. And you could easily guess he was listening to his favorite playlist. One he was really proud of.  

“Hi Peter!” you greet him while walking closer to him. Peter looked up to you and seemed relieved to see you, which was valuable. He took off his headphones and his hood, a sign of esteem from him. You were glad he took the time to talk to you. Until you noticed the pile of letters he had in his hands.

“Thank god you’re here, I wasn’t sure I could fit those letters in your mailbox.” He sighed in relief. Peter didn’t lose another minute and put those letters in your hands, while you were completely zoning out. This couldn’t be real…could it? Peter noticed your expression on your face. While he thought this number of letters was weird, he now knew it was indeed weird.

“I guess it’s not your birthday?” He laughed shyly. He knew it wasn’t. Peter remembered your birthday perfectly. That being said, he had no idea why you had so many letters today. More than you ever got since he started this job. You first shake your head to answer his question. You wish more people were like Peter and didn’t care about stupid messages on a group.

“My best-friend posted a message saying I was looking for someone. And to seduce me they had to write a letter, bla-bla-bla.” You were absolutely going to call her once you were in your room. Maybe she was the one who wrote them all. But you looked down at the letters that were now lying in your arms. And there was no way she would have done that. Maybe one or two. Not that much. 

“Wow, you have a lot of love pretenders.” If he said it in a joyful voice, Peter was actually kind of jealous. He developed a crush on you last year, when you were the only person who seemed to notice him. But he was too shy to ever say anything. Too scared you would reject him and then consider him as non-existent. He took every opportunity he had to be in your life and enjoy them without asking for more.

After losing Gwen when she left for London, Peter lost most of his confidence. He was happy for her, of course. But for some reasons, he took her decision as a way of saying he wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth fighting for. He wasn’t a good boyfriend, maybe. And because of that, he couldn’t consider himself worth of your time.

“Oh, you know, I’m sure these are all jokes. Nobody took this seriously.” You couldn’t imagine someone writing you, you, a letter. No way. But for the fun of it, you were still going to open them. 

You were heading toward your building when you realized that there was no way you would be able to open the door. Either you put the letters away or…”Peter?” you called without looking back.

Peter was still there. He was still looking at you. Thinking that you were still as beautiful and gentle as you were. Thinking that maybe he lost his chance at telling you he had a thing for you last year. 

It took him a few seconds to realize that it wasn’t his mind playing with him but that you were actually calling him. He put his skateboard under his arm and almost stumbled on a rock when he came to you. Hopefully, he got the time to catch your shoulder before falling. Because of that, your faces were close to each other, and it was like you were seeing him for the first time. All these details, his freckles, the subtle colors in his eyes, the pink on his lips…

“Could you…open the door for me?” you asked with a small voice. Peter was looking right into your eyes. You couldn’t breathe. It was like a moment out of time. You never felt like that before with Peter around you. So why…

“Sure.” He said, nodding his head more than he should. But he needed to stop his thoughts before doing anything he would regret. If it was him, he would kiss you right now. Make you realize that no amount of love letters could compete with his feelings for you. That he could write a whole book about you. But it was useless, he thought. You would never want him when you could have anyone you want. 

So, Peter walked to the door and opened it big to you. “Madam.” He said with a smile, and you couldn’t help but laugh at this sudden elegant gesture. You did a small bow before leaving Peter alone with his dream. And you with your confusion.

You were surprised to see that some people took this joke very seriously. Of course, you got funny things like a guy sending a pic of him with a small note saying, “who needs words when you have such a beautiful face?” Or someone sending you his notes from class with a post-it sticks on it saying, “didn’t had the time to write anything else, finals are coming!”. But you also got poems and honest letters. 

You even write back to one student who had written one of the most beautiful love declarations. It had ended by explaining that he wanted to send it to his crush and was asking you for your opinion, since you were looking for love letter. You never thought you would become a love letter corrector but well, maybe you could create this job for yourself.

Every day, Peter came with more letters to read. This was getting out of hand. Every day, you would count the numbers of letters. You would summarize to him what you got, how many were serious and how many were jokes. You definitely got more funny ones, thankfully. You had a good laugh with it. 

You were surprised to notice some were anonymous. There wasn’t a lot. Those with pictures that should have stayed private were, oddly. But there was also two or three serious one that weren’t signed. That was the one you considered being the more honest. And you wished you could talk to the people who wrote them. Just to understand why they seemed to care about you that much.

You probably would stop it if it didn’t give you a good reason to see your favorite mail carrier. Peter even managed to change his route to end with your residence and spend more time with you. It was maybe your favorite time of the day. No, it was definitely your favorite. No doubt.

You felt bad for not paying more attention to Peter in the past. He always a had good joke to say and you loved how sarcastic he could be. He had a way of finding the right puns at the right time. From the outside, you probably looked like you were laughing too hard to seduce him in thinking he’s funny. But Peter was really funny.

And you kinda try to seduce him but this part didn’t seem to work.

“If my counting is right…” Peter said one morning while giving you the new letters. “We reached a hundred letters today, right?” You couldn’t believe this number. Never you would have thought that so many people would lost their time into writing you.

Peter was less surprised. You were a magnetic person. You didn’t seem to notice how people often turned their head to look at you. Not necessarily because they were attracted, even if they certainly were, but simply because you were like the moon. You were there every day, at class or on the campus. Someday they won’t notice you because they have other things to think about. Because you’re not talking, and they almost forgot you’re there. But some other days, they would notice you like you notice the moon in a clear sky. 

At least, that was how Peter saw you. But maybe it was because he was in love with you.

“Would you mind…” you started, collecting all the letters he was giving you. “Would you mind coming back tonight, so we could look at all these stuffs? We need to rank them or at least classified them.” Was it a lame excuse to spend the night with Peter? Yep, absolutely. But from the way his eyes seemed to light up and his lips to curve, you guessed it wasn’t such a bad idea.

“Sure, I can come at eight. Pizzas?”

“And beers.” You replied with a wink before leaving to your apartment.

Peter couldn’t see the huge smile on your face and the way you were giggling for yourself.

You couldn’t see the way Peter jumped around before going back on his skateboard.

He was there at eight like he promised, with two pizzas from your favorite pizzeria. Which also happened to be the only one close to the campus but that was another story. You offered him to spend the night on the rooftop: nobody was going there for some reason. You loved taking a cover and laying there, watching the sky and think about nothing. It was your comfort place. And you wanted to share it with your comfort person. 

That was how you ended up together, sitting on a cover on the floor and your legs covered with another one. You’ve never been that close with Peter. You loved how your knees kept meeting. Or how he let you spread your legs on top of him when you got a cramp. 

Between these moments, you did classify the letters in multiples categories: funny one, pictures that shouldn’t have left their phone, serious one but not for you and serious one for you. There wasn’t a lot in the last category, which was kind of ironic if you think about it. 

“That’s desperate.” You sighed, laying fully on the cover. Peter lied by your side and somehow managed to keep a small part of your leg on his. That was probably not comfortable, but there was no way he would let go of this small touch. “I’m not made for dating.” You faked a sob and turned your head to put it on Peter’s shoulder.

He jumped before laughing and putting a hand on your arm. “Don’t stay that. I’m sure there are plenty people that love you.” Me. I love you. 

You looked at Peter who had already laid his eyes on you. It was the moment. If something had to happen, it was now. You opened a door for his confession. He just had to open the mouth. One word. You asked for one word, and you would kiss him. You didn’t care making the first step if it was worth it. Peter was worth it. You just needed a proof of him saying he felt the same.

You stayed like that for seconds that felt like minutes. Silently. Without moving. Letting the stars illuminating some parts of your face like a painting that deserved to be shown at Le Louvre. 

And then Peter moved his head to face the sky. The moment was lost. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t feel like kissing you. He just didn’t feel like he deserved it when other people showed their love to you, and he wasn’t able to. Peter hated being this insecure about himself. But he couldn’t blame you for trying elsewhere.

“I’ll go on a date with one of the serious ones.” You announced him. And Peter simply nodded, because he couldn’t prevent you from doing so when he was incapable of showing his love.

So, there you were. On a date. With Dean.

If you thought starting this whole letter thing was bad idea, this date with Dean was an even worse one. You thought he would be nice considering he wrote one of the most beautiful letter you’ve ever read, quoting some of your favorite authors. You even thought he had discussed with your friends to know that. You were so sure he made efforts for this that you were quite disappointed when you saw his real face.

The typical and stereotypical football player that thinks more with his dick than his brain. You didn’t even understand how he managed to write more than ten words on paper when all he seemed to know about was sport. Watching a sport channel would have been the same.

Or maybe better. Because you would have chosen to watch it. You didn’t choose to hear about sport right now. Not that you didn’t like sport, you were open minding. You just thought that a date should be about you and him. Not his favorite players.

You kept looking at your poor cocktail, wondering if you should drink it fast to order an another one and make the evening more acceptable or if you should drink it slowly to make it last and seem like a lot of time had passed before leaving.

One thing was sure: you would forget about this thing as soon as you leave the restaurant. You couldn’t even burn the letters. You promised your theater club to give everything to them. They asked you, saying they’d love to improvise a play using them. You agreed, happy all these papers weren’t use for nothing.

There was only one letter you intended to keep, hoping it would be worth it.

You were this close to get up and leave. Until Dean’s face changed, and you heard him say in the most condescend way “Peter Parker?”

You turned around and got to see the last steps of Peter walking to your table. You could tell he came with his skateboard from his messy hair. But you loved that he was just him, he didn’t change for the place. Same jacket, same jean, same baskets, same Peter Parker. You gave him a small smile when he looked at you. “Sorry guys, I’m here to pick up [y/n].” 

“What?” Dean laughed, like it was the craziest joke on earth. The exact same word came out of your mouth in a more admiration way. That was a Peter you didn’t know could exist and you were glad to see this version of him. “You must be kidding mate, she’s good here.” 

“Considering you paid Paul to write your letter and that I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be able to say anything about it if I asked you, I could easily say [y/n] is bored by your side. Am I right?” Peter looked at you again. And if he talked with a lot of insurance, you could tell by his eyes that he was extremely scared you would push him away. If you did, he would never be able to look at you…or go to class. At least for a month. 

You couldn’t believe you were still living in a world where Peter Parker can’t think you wouldn’t follow him to the other side of the World.

“He’s right.” You replied, getting up. “If you have to go on a date with someone, be honest and don’t pretend to be someone else Dean. It can be really boring.” You heard Peter containing his laugh with a lot of difficulties. What a way to mark your word. When you were finally by his side, you hit his arm before grabbing it. “Thank you.” You whispered and kissed his cheek slowly. 

The shade of red his cheek turned to was now your favorite color.

It wasn’t until you were outside that you noticed the sudden change in Peter’s attitude. He let you go slowly and started to walk faster than you. Like he was trying to lose you. And he was, actually. Because it wasn’t until you were alone that Peter realized what he just did: he let his feelings talk and took you of this stupid date. Did you deserve better than Dean? Yes, absolutely. And as a friend, Peter would have saved you from him a thousand times.

But he loved you. If he did it tonight, it was only because he was jealous. And now he felt stupid. What was the point of taking you out of there if he was incapable of being honest and be the man you deserved?

You called his name and finally caught up with him. “Peter!” you said another time, grabbing his wrist to stop him. He was still turning his back to you, but you could feel how desperate he was. “What is going?” you slowly asked, making small steps to face him. He was looking at the floor, like a child that made a mistake. 

“It was stupid to come here and do that. I mean, no. it wasn’t. Because you deserve someone better than Dean. But you deserve someone better than…forget it.” He sighed. Peter looked at you before managing to free his wrist from your fingers. He started walking away again.

And this time, you weren’t going to let him do that. After all, what he did tonight was a good first step and proof of his feelings, no?

“You remind me of a starry night.” You said. Peter froze in front of you, immediately knowing where you’ve been reading those words. He couldn’t believe he was hearing them now. Coming from your mouth. With a guitar player making the moment even more magic by playing a love song. Like it was meant to happen now.

“You’ve got millions of stars in your eyes. They always look so shiny and so living. I could look at them for hours. They are a whole story by themselves. They are telling your story. And you’re my favorite story.” You’ve read this letter so many times, trying to understand how it was possible for someone to write such beautiful words about you. How it could be the same man that you were meeting every day. And why he couldn’t tell you he was thinking such beautiful things about.

While you were walking slowly towards Peter, he stopped moving. He almost stopped breathing too. “Your smile is like the moon. No matter the size, when you’re smiling at me, I feel calm. And important. You took the time to give me some of your attention. And for some reason, I even make you smile. I could look at your smile for hours, especially if it means you’re happy. It’s mesmerizing. And the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen.” 

“[y/n], please…” you heard Peter’s pleading, but you had to do it. You had to prove him it mattered. That his words meant something to you. They meant everything.

“And your laugh is like a shooting star. It may happen a lot because you always seem to laugh when I’m around (I don’t know if it means I’m funny), but it makes me believe in miraclex. Somehow, I was able to give you this happiness. And I want to believe one day I’ll be able to give you more.” You were close enough to him to finally grab his wrist. You wrapped your fingers around it slowly, one more time. Hopping he would listen to you, and not withdrawn.

“Maybe that’s the reason I like you. Because you’re my favorite moment of the day. You’re a shiny sky that makes me believe tomorrow could be a better day. Simply because you come back, every day. “You were now facing Peter. You didn’t realize before doing it how much these words were true: seeing Peter was the highlight of your day. And he made each tomorrow better just because you knew you would spend time with him again.

“How did you know?” he finally asked. With his hand on his neck, his head facing the floor and the way his knees were bending, you could tell Peter was trying to hide. He felt ashamed, almost naked from this. You knew his feelings. He knew it was a bad idea to open his heart like that. But he hated the idea that you couldn’t get one true love letter. That he couldn’t give you that when he could write so many things about you.

You took Peter’s hand, hold it and put it against his heart. “You feel that, Pete? That’s how much you cared about me.” Even with his head down, you could see his eyes rolling. Of course, he knew that. Don’t need to rub salt into the wound he thought. But then you slowly put his hand against your own heart. “It’s beating the same. Because I feel the same way about you.” You waited a few seconds before Peter finally looked at you. You gave him a small smile to encourage him into believing your words.

You were in love with Peter Parker. “Really?” he asked frowning, still unsure him, out of all the students you see every day, was the one your heart choose to love. You laughed slowly before bringing your face close to his. “Really.” You whispered against his lips. One look from Peter on your mouth was enough to know he wanted it too. 

You couldn’t have asked for a better first kiss when Peter, under a starry night. After he proved you how much he cared for you. You loved how his hand went on your neck to keep you close and hold you. How his lips felt like heaven. You wondered how many people this guy kissed because he was a way too good kisser. But you didn’t mind. Everything was perfect.

Until Peter stopped the kiss.

“But for real, how did you know it was me?” You laughed at his confused face. He was such a baby you couldn’t resist kissing him another time. “First,” you started by pointing one finger “I’ve been in class with you. I know your style. And mostly, I know your writing. It wasn’t difficult to recognize it. And even if I had a doubt, I still have common work we did last year.” It seemed fair to Peter, he should have thought about that.

“And second, I don’t spend night on the rooftop looking at the star with everyone. You’re the only one I want to do this with. So, it seemed logical that you would be the one writing that.” And thankfully he was, because you never wanted anyone else comparing you to a starry night than Peter Parker.

[1kook]

kissanime & foreplay

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans. warnings; mentions of hentai yes u read right, kook leads most of it, cunnilingus, masturbation (f), oral (f), use of a sex toy, fingering, nipple play, face sitting/fucking/riding idk (f), praise kink, hints of dumbification, cum eating, jk is like passive aggressive in this one, 4 (f) orgasms, this is the kicker: sub kook at the end😳, like 2 sec of dom yn lol, & u get 0.002 sec of adams apple kink misc; more dumb story lines, made up sex stores bc my creativity knows no bounds, Jungkook plays nice but is actually mean for the majority of it, once again doyeon plays a pivotal role in the furthering of women empowerment, internal love monologues about jk best boy<3 wc; 8.2k

notes; back when kissanime was offed I remember looking at this fic in the drafts like what the hell we gone do now.. n almost deleting it but I was like yknow what this isn’t a 1kook fic unless there’s smthn weird going on so here we are. also yes I know ohshc is on Netflix shut up!!!!! 

HAPPY BDAY MY LOVE AND MUSE JEON JUNGKOOK !!!! 🥺💜

—

The good thing about getting your own apartment is that you finally have a place to call your own. There’s no limit on how many potted plants you can squeeze into a one bedroom, one bathroom apartment, and if there was one, you’re twelve in and no one has said anything to you yet. You don’t have to share the shower space with anyone, label all your products with a hastily scribbled name. There’s a bathtub—something you haven’t had the pleasure of using during college—and a fairly open living space. There’s so many empty spots to fill with useless decorations and family heirlooms and that ugly plastic rooster Jungkook won you at the summer kick-off fair last month.

The bad thing about having your own place is that the entire world and their mothers seem to know now. Despite graduating from college, you still keep in touch with your trusted graduate mentor Kim Namjoon, who is still very much in school, and has made it his mission to bring you a new plant every week, hence your growing collection. Your childhood friend comes over every Saturday morning to lounge around after her Friday nights out. Jungkook, although the only one who is ever actually invited, runs through your strawberry scented body wash like a madman.

And of course, Doyeon.

Your beloved college roommate of four years, Kim Doyeon, has been the bane of your apartment experience so far. Unlike you, who had slaved away for four years, saving every penny you made during college for this moment, Doyeon was a big spender. She blew every dollar she ever came across, which is why she’s going to be stuck living at her parent’s house for at least a couple more years.

Nothing wrong with that, of course, if she wasn’t the most maniac online shopper in existence. It hadn’t been a problem in college because she was always good old pals with the students who worked the mailroom. If they saw something questionable, they’d let it slide as long as it was under Miss Kim Doyeon, Room 229.

The reason it became an issue for her now is because it’s poor Mrs. Kim who signs over the package from Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! one Tuesday afternoon as it is delivered to their suburban home.

So now she’s taken to ordering all her freaky stuff to your new apartment, where the small cabinet by the door has quickly become home to her impulsive shopping habits. Truthfully, you don’t mind accepting Doyeon’s weird packages, and have long since grown used to the uncomfortable looks the mail carrier gives you.

Jungkook’s supposed to come over today and you really hope he doesn’t ask about the state of your hall cabinet. Now that you work at a small company outside of your degree to make ends meet, time with Jungkook has been significantly decreased. You weren’t in college anymore, so you didn’t have the luxury of dropping by his house whenever you wanted to in between classes. Of course, it’s mostly your schedule that conflicts with your planned hangouts, because Jungkook is still working his dream job from home.

However, because Jungkook is quite possibly the most amazing person on this planet, he’s started coming over every Saturday night to make sure you’re still alive and not dying. And so weekly media binges are a thing, and it’s currently week four.

He gave up on showing you the Marvel movie franchise last week, after you had asked where Wonder Woman was three times in a row. Since the Barbie Movie Debacle of last month, you’ve found a nice medium between who picks when. Jungkook picks most of the time, because most of the time you don’t really care. It’s become a running joke between the two of you that movie binges are usually just terribly masked excuses to go to town on each other, so you don’t mind missing an entire 15th Century French Revolution documentary if it means Jungkook is deep in your guts by the time King Louis XIV gets beheaded or whatever they did to him. Is it too obvious you didn’t watch the documentary?

Occasionally, there are instances where one of you genuinely does want to watch something, in which case you have an intense match of rock-paper-scissors to decide who’s picking that night. Most of the time, Jungkook wins. But for every match Jungkook wins, he promises you’ll pick the next one so you’ve long since stopped trying to actually beat him.

Long story short, last weekend you sat through a two part Ancient Aliens episode on the connection between aliens and American presidents.

It was the most god-awful conspiracy theory you’ve ever heard of, but Jungkook ate up every minute of it. By the time the two hosts announced their conclusion you were just about ready to rip your own ears off and single-handedly fist fight every producer on the channel for allowing the production of such an atrocious show.

Anyway, because you had so bravely sat through the entire evening without complaints— well, no complaints towards Jungkook’s terrible taste; the show, however, was not safe from your wicked tongue —Jungkook has so graciously allowed you to pick the media for this weekend.

You’ve been telling him for the longest time that you were going to hook him on anime. It was one of the few interests you always believed Jungkook should possess, being a weeb and all, because it was only fair that he had one questionable trait to balance out the rest of his perfection. Liking anime isn’t bad— if a hottie like you enjoyed it, then it obviously had its perks. However, you know a lot of other people are turned off by anime-enthusiasts due to preconceived notions of the genre and the viewer-base.

Now, it was a widely known fact that you always had ulterior motives. So maybe turning Jungkook into a weeb was just a ploy to turn other women off from him and keep your jealousy at bay. Sue you, your boyfriend was a walking wet dream, and you’d do anything to keep him to yourself.

After long deliberation, you’ve decided on introducing Jungkook to anime with a classic: Ouran High School Host Club, a god among anime, a true Beyonce among shoujos. The only problem was that you absolutely refused to pay Crunchyroll or Funimation when you could so easily find the entire show on KissAnime.com, home to only the finest of hentai ads and Are You a Robot? questions.

He sends you a text when he’s outside your building, and five minutes later there’s a rap against your door.

“Hi,” you smile up at him, heart fluttering in that same trademark way it did whenever Jungkook was within a five foot radius. He smiles back softly, leaning down to peck your lips as you step aside for him to enter. He’s got on those cotton sweats that you love, the ones that send your brain into a censored frenzy. But he’s also got that soft curl to his hair that lets you know he came here straight out of the shower in his hurry to see you. How you managed to bag a dream boyfriend like him was beyond you.

You bask in the overwhelming feeling of unannounced love for all of ten seconds before Jungkook is lifting up a square package you hadn’t seen at his hip. “Mailman gave me this,” he says, waving around the signature bright pink packaging of Sexuality Unleashed. Jungkook, for all his politeness and respect, seemed to falter in those categories when it came to you. He turns the box over, reading the big fat name of the company on the side. “Since when did you start buying sex toys?” he asks rather loudly in the hallway.

You yank him inside, hurriedly slamming the door shut before any of your neighbors can come out into the hallway and get a peek of this avid sex toy consumer. “They’re not mine!” you hiss, standing still when he uses you to balance himself as he tugs off his shoes. You snatch the box out of his hands, turning it around to make sure it is actually addressed to your home. Sure enough, it’s for you. Couldn’t there have been some other sex toy fanatic on this floor?

With his shoes off, Jungkook wastes no time enveloping you in a hug, the Sexuality Unleashed box tumbling to the ground. “It’s okay, baby, no need to be embarrassed.”

You groan, leaning your forehead against his shoulder as he continues to pat your back like you’re actually embarrassed to be caught buying toys— you’re not. You’re embarrassed he caught you with a sex toy you simply can’t put to use. “Whatever,” you sigh, “your gross popcorn is in my bedroom and it’s probably stale.”

He releases you, not before pulling you into a slow and languid kiss that has you clutching tightly at the front of his shirt. He pulls away with a soft smooch, right eye falling into a wink. “Bring the box, gorgeous,” he teases, before sauntering off in the direction of your bedroom.

You groan loudly. “It’s not mine!” you repeat, but for some reason do as he says.

Not only do you have no idea what’s in this package, but you’re frankly not too keen on finding out. You’re more interested in Jungkook’s reaction to one of your favorite animes of all time. The package is tossed onto the end of the bed, where Jungkook has already stripped himself of his socks and cuddled beneath your covers.

Your laptop has gone dark from inactivity so you slam down on the space bar to bring it back to life. Your first mistake was pressing anything at all. It flickers back on alright, but you forget that you are working with a minefield of ads ready to explode. You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans.

“What the hell is this?” he asks in a tone that screams he has never had to fight viruses off his computer just to watch something at two in the morning.

You ignore him, cuddling into his side as you hurriedly type in the title of the anime before another annoying ad can intercept you. “KissAnime,” you answer for now, accidentally clicking down on the mousepad with the heel of your palm. Another tab opens up to some sketchy credit site. You huff.

“Baby, I swear I just saw like twelve viruses,” he says. “And what even are these?” he scoffs, jabbing a finger at one of the many ads that lines the perimeter of the website. “Animated teacher porn?”

By the grace of god, you somehow manage to get onto the episode selection screen without having another tab open on you. You smile in relief, turning the power of your excitement onto Jungkook… only to find his eyes narrowed in on the square advertisement for some hentai website. “What? You wanna watch hentai now?” you snort, placing the laptop on his legs as you cuddle into his side.

Jungkook sputters, cheeks tinting red at the mere insinuation he would ever consume such media. “No,” he glares, releasing the arm around your shoulders to huffily cross them over his chest. “I am not going to watch anatomically incorrect illustrations of a woman teacher relieving herself, ___,” he says rather matter-of-factly.

You snort, repeating, “a woman teacher,” mockingly and in a high pitched voice that, honestly, doesn't sound anything like him. You click play on the video box that appears after only about twenty more pop-up ads. “Silence, you nymphomaniac, the episode is starting.” Jungkook pulls you close with a displeased expression, finally quieting down when you put it on full screen and the ads disappear from his view.

You’re beginning to wonder if Jungkook really is the script and plot dissector he claims to be, or if he just lives to get under your skin. He doesn’t make it three minutes without finding something to critique. First it’s the quality of the frames, and then it’s the characterization of the lead character. He nitpicks everything about the best anime in existence, and by the end of the first episode you’re considering breaking up with him.

“Oh my god,” you groan, tearing yourself away from him. He’s all laid up against your mountain of pillows, tongue prodding at the insides of his mouth in that ridiculously attractive habit of his. Usually, you’d be tripping over yourself to kiss him, but you’re about two seconds from ripping his head off. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, baby,” you sigh, picking up his hand in yours. “You gotta shut up.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I have to shut up?” he asks in a scandalized tone. “You sang through the entire intro, off tune may I add.”

At this rate you’re getting nowhere, so you just snatch the laptop back up before you actually hurt his feelings. You escape the full screen, met with those hentai ads that are slowly becoming the bane of Jungkook’s existence.

“Who actually watches those anyway?” he mumbles, covering the sidebar full of naked cartoon ladies with his palm for you, a real gentleman if you ever saw one. “Really?” he says, knocking his pointer finger against a particularly raunchy ad with the caption Be a Good Boy and Let her Play beneath it.

You snort. “You are such a baby,” you tease, pinching his cheek much to his annoyance. “What? Can’t handle seeing some anime titties?”

Jungkook shoves your hand away, leaning back to become one with the pillows as you continue onto the next episode. “They’re just weird,” he admits. “And make unrealistic faces.”

“Unrealistic,” you repeat, finally giving one of the ads the time of day. There’s an adorably drawn character making the most perverted expression, knees hiked up to her chest. Her face is twisted up, drooling like a dog and with her eyes crossed in ecstasy. You shrug. “Just because you can’t get those faces out of me doesn’t mean they’re unreal.”

The second the words leave your mouth Jungkook is letting out a scandalized scoff, sitting up to level you with another glare. “First of all, I can get you like that,” he defends, tapping his finger against the ad on screen. “In fact, I can get you like that without even trying, so let’s not say anything too drastic now, okay?”

His sudden bout of defensiveness makes something playful in you switch on, laying back down beside him with a smirk. “Oh, you can make me all stupid like this?”

Jungkook scoffs. “Yes.”

“Uh huh,” you drawl, tracing a finger up his chest teasingly; Jungkook knocks your knuckles away, obviously still butt hurt about your comment. That’s fine, because a slightly riled up Jungkook was always the best Jungkook. You sit up and lean in close, letting your hand slip beneath his hoodie, palm running over his bare shoulder and around the top of his back. You give his nape a light squeeze, lips pressed against the shell of his ear. “Why don’t you prove it to me, Jungkookie?” you purr, before pulling away.

His jaw twitches at the nickname, one shapely brow unconsciously arching as he regards you with a calculative expression.

The thing about Jungkook was that, after almost a year of dating, you know just how to push his buttons. He has a rather calm and collected exterior to him, the same one he’s had since the day you met him, but beneath it all was a childish competitiveness that raged with the heat of ten suns. He disliked being taunted like you were doing now, especially when his credibility was at stake.

Honestly speaking, you don’t doubt Jungkook can make you look as goofy and messy as those hentai ads. In fact you’re rather confident he can. Either way, him being right or you being right, you would still get some fun out of it.

“Hm?” you add, tracing your hand up to dance over the skin of his cheek, pads of your fingers running over that stiff jaw. “Are you scared I’m right and you’re wrong?”

A hand snaps up to catch your wrist, fingers tight around your skin until you’re shivering against him. “Oh baby, I can make you cum until you cry,” he murmurs, his usual sweet and lilting tone dropping to a low vibration that makes your pussy throb beneath your panties. Your heart leaps in your chest, lips falling open when he ducks down to brush them against yours. It’s too light, just a simple touch that makes you follow his mouth when he pulls back.

With one firm shove, the laptop is tumbling off the bed, thudding loudly against your bedside rug. Jungkook leans over you, his usual trademark doe eyes zeroed in on you with the focus of a laser. “Have a little faith in me,” he teases, and when he presses close you can feel his fattening cock flush against your thigh. Your body is begging to be touched, every brush of his fingers against your skin searing trails in their wake.

Suddenly, he’s drawing back. “Kook?” you frown, barely biting down on a childish whimper when he snuggles back into your mountain of pillows, one arm stretched behind his head.

He flashes you a smile. “Go on,” he says, arms behind his head. “Show me how to get you like that.”

“By myself?” you ask, shifting onto your knees anyway. Jungkook nods, a soft jut of his chin as he gives you another one of those easy going smiles of his. His goal seems a little unclear, but you had a ridiculous amount of trust in your boyfriend that whatever he had planned was certain to be good. With one final skeptical glance his way, you sink down onto your bum, knees spreading and giving him a clear view of your little pink boy shorts, elastic band hugging your waist.

The material of your t-shirt is guided away, held to your chest by the hand currently not traversing the length of your stomach, gliding across soft skin, over your belly button and past that band until it slips beneath. You chance another look Jungkook’s way, only to find his eyes wonderfully downcast in the direction of your core. That smile is gone now, replaced with a somber look as he watches your hand move mysteriously beneath the fabric of your undergarments.

The first brush of your forefinger against your swollen button makes you twitch, back arching at the sensation that is magnified by his watchful gaze. “Mmh,” you bite down, hand twisting in the material of your shirt. Jungkook’s eyes glare a molten path across your skin, from the comfy bra that peeks out from beneath your rumpled shirt to the wrist slowly working beneath your panties.

A hand falls over your thigh, tattooed fingers giving the skin a light squeeze as you get to work swirling your bud around. The sight of his inked skin on yours makes something warm blossom in your lower abdomen, your eyes following the inky swirls up, up, up. They lead you to the face of your very handsome boyfriend, long lashes fanning across his cheekbones as he watches you play with yourself. “Wanna take these off for me?” he says, the tip of his pointer finger wiggling beneath the fabric of your shorts.

You nod hurriedly, wiggling around on the bed until you’re on your back, legs bent in front of you. The shorts come down your legs; the simplest press of your thighs makes something quiver in your abdomen. You toss them off to the side, and just as you go to sit back up, Jungkook places a hand on your knee. “Stay like this for me,” he says, sitting up from his mountain of pillows to glance down at you. You melt into the plush mattress beneath you, staring down at him between your legs. He’s got that adoring look in his eyes, the one that makes you feel so warm and in love, it’s only natural your hand slips down to play with your bare clit again. “That’s my girl,” he smiles, rubbing a hand down the outside of your thigh, urging your legs to fall open.

There’s this overflowing vat of arousal that builds up inside of you everytime Jungkook is around, like the moment your eyes land on him you’re reminded of every position he’s ever had you in. You remember the soft brush of his hands on your body, the way his lips feel on yours, the soft tickle of his hair when he gets too close. It makes your heart lurch in your chest, like if you don’t grab onto him tightly this feeling will slip through your fingers and out of your life. So you were crazily in love with your boyfriend— now what?

A puckered set of lips meets the inside of your thigh, the action ripping you from your overly gooey, overly soft inner rambling. Your hand trails down your quivering pussy lips, collecting your dripping wetness as you go. At the same time, Jungkook kisses down the inside of your thigh, soft smacks of his lips against your skin filling the air with an emotion that makes you bite down a whimper. Your hole puckers at the brush of your fingers, anticipating an entrance that you yearn to give into soon.

His mouth is on you before your finger can go deeper than a centimeter in. But Jungkook doesn’t brush your hand off, doesn’t shove you away to prove his mouth was undoubtedly better. He places a kiss over your knuckles, before swallowing up your significantly smaller hand with his, that of which he clasps together over your navel.

You groan, head rolling from side to side. “Don’t be so soft with me,” you whine, leg twitching when he presses a kiss against your engorged bundle of nerves. “Push me around like that one time, you know I like it.”

Jungkook grins, mouthing over your clit with practiced ease that has you releasing all kinds of whimpers and sighs. He’s got his other hand wrapped around your thigh, strong arm pulling you closer to that devious mouth and tongue that lavished attention on your clit. “Need me to be mean to you, baby?” he purrs, curling his tongue in such a way that it makes your entire body tense up, muscles pulled tight. “Want me to push you around like the stupid little girl you are?” You moan, head bobbing up and down at the ideas he stuffs in your mind. As he moves down the length of your cunt, that round nose you love brushes against your bud, and the cheeky shit takes an obnoxiously loud sniff of it, a soft groan breathed against your lower lips. “But isn’t this better?” he hums, languidly molding his lips against your lower ones, much in the same way he does with the ones on your face; he moves slowly, slips his tongue in every few seconds before eventually diving in head on. “Slow... and so easy.”

“Kook,” you mewl, getting this overwhelming urge to cover your face with your hands. But you can’t, because he’s knotted one hand with yours and his fingers only tighten when you try to yank them apart. Instead you’re left pressing one knuckle against your mouth, brows pinching as he begins slowly fucking his tongue into your cunt. “F-Faster,” you beg. He, of course, ignores your plea.

The wet mass moves past the clenched muscles around your hole, nose brushing against your lips with every intrusion. Every few cycles he stops to press a kiss against your pussy, so hard and wet that it hurts when he pulls off. You’re left writhing and moaning, your heel knocking against his shoulder when he pushes your leg up closer to your chest. “It’s enough,” you cry, your entire body shivering.

Jungkook pulls off with a loud pop, lips glistening with your arousal. He’s got this glint on his eyes, like he’s thoroughly entertained by your reactions. He shuffles around to get comfortable, finally releasing that grip on your hand. Immediately, your newly freed hand jumps forward to tangle in the hair above his ear, tracing down the delicate curve of his cheekbone. Jungkook turns his head, pressing a soft peck against your open palm that makes your heartbeat thunder in your ears.

As he moves around, his leg bumps against something that has both of you pausing. It sounds out of place next to your shallow breaths, and both of you glance down only to catch sight of that stupid package from Sexuality Unleashed teetering on the edge of the bed.

The moment you see it, it’s like you’re transported into an omnipresent view of the scene, the next few hours flashing before your eyes as Jungkook snorts. You know he’s going to reach for it in two seconds, and you know he’s going to tear the hot pink packaging apart with his bare hands. He does so with a scary amount of power, the industrial tape not standing a chance against him. A box roughly the same size as the package falls out, and before you can kick it away and save yourself from suffering beneath Jungkook’s teasing antics, he’s snatching up the box.

“The Bullet Bestie,” he reads aloud, dark eyes flying across the text with lightning speed before that box is also being ripped open. (Briefly, there’s a voice in your head that thinks of Doyeon, but you’re not sure why.) Out tumbles a little pink bullet with a strap on one end that bounces against your thigh and an even smaller remote.

“Baby,” you rush out, the sight of the tiny toy making your heart thunder in your chest. “We can look at it another time,” you try, hands coming up to brush against his face again. “Why don’t you finish off here?” you ask, a sickeningly sweet politeness dripping off your tongue as the knot in your tummy fades into the background of his attention.

Jungkook ignores you, picking up the remote with a wondrous look in his eyes. Before you can try to persuade him back between your legs, a quiet click cuts you off and the little bullet whirls to life. You yelp at the sudden vibrations against the inside of your thigh, so close to your throbbing core. The jump of your thighs has it falling onto the mattress below you, wide eyes snapping back to the smirk that grows on his face.

“No,” you say slowly, sitting back up, “no, no,” you try, your usual assertiveness melting into a whiny cry as you try to wiggle away from him and the nefarious ideas infesting his lust-addled mind. You’re barely turning, ready to make a run for it and hand him his victory by forfeit, when Jungkook is catching you by the waist. Your hips get pulled up, arms clawing uselessly at the sheets beneath you as he drags you close to him. He’s fast, already having moved onto his knees behind you, and when he yanks you up, you can feel every hot plane of his body aligned with your backside. “Kook, please just make me cum,” you gasp.

There’s a smile pressed against your shoulder, lips still wet from before, kissing along the side of your neck. “Look at my girl,” he murmurs, and you nearly jump out of your skin when something smooth is traced along your thigh. One hand slips beneath the material of your shirt, soothingly rubbing circled against your skin. This hand also holds the tiny remote between two fingers, and every nerve in your body is on edge waiting for it to be used. “Where’s that smartmouth now?”

“Jungkook,��� you try to warn. But there’s no bite to your words, only an anticipation that grows the closer he moves that damned toy between your thighs. “Baby, we-we can play another time, okay? Just please—“

A soft click, and suddenly your spine is giving out on you, upper body flopping forward as Jungkook runs the vibrations over your clit. Of course Jungkook follows, never letting you slip far from his reach. A loud moan spills from your lips, lower lip wobbling at the unreal amounts of pleasure he bestows upon you with such a small toy. “W-Wait,” you sob, the coil from before suddenly magnified tenfold. It makes your orgasm loom over you bigger than ever, a wave that threatens to spill over and drown you in one go. “No-please.”

His mouth presses against your ear, hot breaths fanning against the skin there. “Hey pretty girl, does it feel good?” he husks out, kissing just below your ear. “Aw fuck,” he groans, something stiff pressing against the cleft between your cheeks, “can’t even see if you’re making that stupid face right now.”

You are, but you don’t even have the words to tell him that. The moment the vibrator had made contact with your already ravished clit, your eyes had rolled into the back of your head. You don’t doubt you look like those silly ads you’d laughed at earlier, mouth opening and closing every few seconds as he circles the toy around your bud. You settle on a high-pitched whimper that has Jungkook laughing meanly against your ear.

It ends too soon, the stimulation from Jungkook eating you out for a few minutes combining with the bullet to form a powerful duo that swallows you whole. An embarrassingly loud moan rips itself from your throat, hands twisting in the sheets beneath you as it washes over you. It’s so powerful, it blinds you, pussy spasming. Jungkook’s name is repeated about a thousand times in between, your body eventually melting back into the mattress as the final shocks run through you.

The vibrator clicks off just as quietly as it turned on, your harsh breaths filling the room in its place. “Good girl,” Jungkook praises, raining down a parade of kisses against your shoulder. You mewl in appreciation, still awkwardly shoving your face into the mattress, and your hips in the air. From the corner of your eyes, you watch him set the glistening toy off to the side, and you’re just about ready to thank the heavens for such an experience with your boyfriend, when said boyfriend hits you with a curveball.

The gentle pecks against yours shoulder dissolve into harsh kisses, rough hands trailing up your waist. The t-shirt gathers around his knuckles, pushed and pushed until he’s got those same hands cupping your breasts. “Did you like that?” he asks, biting down against your shoulder; the sensation is dulled by your shirt being in the way but it still makes you whine. You moan softly, nodding against the mattress as he gets to kneading your breasts over your bra. “Mm,” Jungkook sighs, “my pretty girl was so good for me, wasn’t she?”

Those deft fingers run back down, crawl beneath the elastic of your lounge bra and push it away until your breasts are bouncing out of their cage. “Kook,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut as he traces circles around your nipples. “W-Wait,” you whimper, suddenly reminded of the swollen cock pressed against your backside when he leans closer.

“Shhh,” he soothes, tweaking your nipples. “Relax for me, sweetheart,” he coos, flicking your hardened nipples with his fingers. You can’t relax, not with your body still so sensitive and him playing with you. Still, the low intonation makes something soft and warm settle in your chest, the kisses against your jaw making your eyes fall shut. “That’s it,” he says, giving one nipple a playful twist that draws a high-pitched moan from you.

Just as you’re beginning to fall into the rhythm of Jungkook’s caresses and voice, he releases one breast to traverse his hand down and over your tummy, to your sensitive pussy. You gasp, biting down on your lip as he teasingly flicks your clit with his fingers. “Bet you could come again now,” he murmurs, taking the tip of your earlobe into his mouth and nibbling softly. You groan, shoving your face into the sheets as if that will save you from your doom. “Bet your pretty little pussy can cream itself just like this, isn’t that right, sweet girl?”

You whimper, hips bucking back against him when he begins nudging your bud, lewd sounds reaching your ears. His other hand remains on your breast, no longer toying with your nipple but simply holding it almost comfortingly. There’s a smirk pressed against your skin, that pearly white smile you usually adore so much teasing you as he circles your nub.

“Come on,” he encourages quietly, kissing up the column of your neck again. You moan, thighs quivering as he strokes a second orgasm out of you with no struggle. Your eyes and throat burn at the heat that washes over you, and you release a hoarse scream into the mattress— Jungkook chuckles at the sound, egging you on with that low voice until your muscles go limp a second time.

When he rolls you onto your stomach again, you try desperately to cover the tears that blur your vision, turning away from him like a child when he tries to look. “Crybaby, crybaby,” he sings teasingly, prying your hands away to capture your mouth with his for the first time that night. “Lemme see those tears, baby,” he purrs.

He tastes like you, tongue dripping with that sweet tang of your pussy, and he smells like you too. It strokes the flames of you ego, arms eventually wrapping around his shoulders as he settles above you. He pulls off with a curl of his tongue against your swollen lips, brown eyes lazily staring down at you. It’s embarrassing how well kept he still was compared to your half-nude state of dress. His skin is all glowy and pretty, not a single tear track in sight, and his grin is still too relaxed for your liking.

Jungkook’s body feels so warm and comforting against yours, muscles keeping the heat trapped between your bodies. You go to brush a hand through his hair, needing to feel the familiarity of those silky locks, before he’s suddenly leaning away. He shuffles onto his knees again, glancing down at your thoroughly abused cunt with a quirk in his brows.

“God,” you groan, knocking your foot against his side. “Just fuck me already,” you huff despite your earlier fatigue. You could only go so long without feeling Jungkook’s fat demon cock inside of you.

He snorts at your snappy tone, cutely tilting his head to the side to move his hair out of his face. His jaw looks sharp from this angle, facial features covered in shadows the lamplight behind him can’t touch. “Can’t,” he announces, and you could pull your hair out from all this unnecessary build up.

Truth to be told, you and Jungkook were both equally as unrestrained when it came to each other. Most of the time, the lead up to actual, penetrative, key-in-lock sex included a couple minutes of heavy petting from his end, and maybe a half assed handjob from you. Sometimes if you felt extra attentive, he’d eat you out and you'd him off. But for the most part, the two of you jumped straight into it after an orgasm, like horny teenagers despite the two of you being twenty-three now.

The most adventurous you’d ever gotten up until the point was maybe two orgasms bestowed upon you by a crazed Jungkook. And, well. You had hit two orgasms now. You were ready for his monster cock.

“Kook,” you whine childishly.

Jungkook shakes you off, placing a palm on both your knees. Slowly, he spreads your thighs apart again, eyes zeroed in on the glossy folds that come into view, the sparkling pearly cum that leaks out of your hole. “I can’t, baby,” he says, almost pained. “I gotta clean you up first,” he insists, and before you can tell him how counterproductive it is to lick you clean of your arousal before fucking you, he’s diving face first into your cunt.

But the biggest surprise doesn’t come from Jungkook going in for thirds, but from the hands he clasps around your thighs, the sheer strength he uses to roll you over (ignoring the shriek you let out) to sit you on his face. “No, no,” you yelp immediately, “I-I‘ll break you,” you cry, trying to escape from his hold.

From beneath your thighs, dark eyes peering up at you daringly, you can see the clear warning on Jungkook’s face. It’s a look that loudly says don’t you dare fucking move, shapely brows sending a jolt of genuine fear down your spine for a moment. “Jungkook,” you fret, trying to ignore the arousal that only continues to blossom as his tongue laps against your folds for the second time that night. “I’m, I’m,” you stammer, hands burying themselves in his hair as he ignores your cries. “I’ll break you,” you try again, spine arching when he slurps your clit into his mouth. “I-I’ll—“

He pulls off with a pop. “Fuck my face, baby,” he says, as if he hadn’t heard a single of your concerns at all. His nose nudges against your clit, a whimper catching in your throat. Briefly, his hand disappears from around your thigh, and when it returns, that tiny bullet vibrator from earlier is pressed against your thigh. “You got that?”

You nod, internally torn apart by your fear of crushing him and your need to drag your cunt all over your boyfriend’s handsome face. You glance down at him, watch him slip that vibrator into his mouth for just a second and lewdly coat it in his saliva, before he’s reaching around to shove it past your pussy lips. They’re still swollen and puffy, but have long since relaxed enough for him to slip it in. “B-But what if—“

“You won’t,” he cuts off, readjusting himself closer to your cunt again, “come on, pretty girl.”

The reason you think you and Jungkook click so well was because he was able to bring that vulnerable side out of you every now and then. He knew you liked to parade around with that huge superiority complex, and he loved it. But he also knew there were things you liked and disliked, and sometimes it took a little pushing for you to reveal them.

For a second, that horny cloud over his irises lifts, and he gives you one of those cute, sloppy winks as he taps your thigh gently. “Fuck my face, sweetheart,” he whispers, “drag that pretty cunt all over me until I can’t breathe.” A gasp catches in your throat, hands unconsciously curling against his scalp. He notices, and flashes you a lazy smirk. “You can do that, can’t you?”

Something akin to adoration blooms in your chest, and before you can blurt out something embarrassing—like I love you—there’s a soft click that has The Bullet Bestie revving up inside of you. You gasp, the sudden vibrations deep inside your pussy making your hips snap forward, clit rubbing against Jungkook’s nose.

“O-Oh,” you cry, and that’s all it takes for you to lose it. Your hips start off slow, at first just savoring the wet drag of his tongue against your lips, his nose against your clit. He sticks his tongue out for you, and part of you wants to tell him he’s a good boy, that corny hentai ad flashing in your mind, but you doubt you’ll survive the aftermath of that. Once you find that perfect pace, your hands are practically yanking at his hair, pushing him further into the mattress as you ride his face like he’s nothing but a toy. “Kook, Jungkook,” you pant, grinding your lower lips against his all too eager mouth.

It feels oddly weird being over him like this, using him like this. You like to think you and Jungkook have equal power in the bedroom, but you will admit that more often than not, he assumes control by default. You’re not particularly bothered by that, because you doubt you’d ever come up with the crazy ideas Jungkook did when he was horny (okay, a lie, because you definitely have thought of crazy sex schemes before).

But, this moment…

The power was quickly going to your head. “Fuck,” you sob, roughly dragging the length of your pussy over and over his face. The hands around your thighs are pressing against your skin with a strength that would hurt were you not blinded by arousal. His eyes are shut, lids fluttering open every now and then as he watches you buck wildly over his face like he was a pillow in high school and your parents were gone for the weekend.

It doesn’t help that the rhythmic pulses of the vibrator inside of you are doing their job well, the tongue that slips into your pussy joining together to form a powerful combination. It’s ultimately what has you halting your manic thrusts, instead falling into a slow grind over him. Your hips circle, eyes squeezed shut as you lose yourself in the lapping of his tongue against your dripping hole. “Mmmf,” you mewl, biting down on your lower lip as the wet muscle prods against a delicate spot within you. You hear feels light, view of the gorgeous man beneath you obstructed by the eyelids that can't seem to stay open. “N-No,” you cry, pulling his hair more roughly than you intended to in order to redirect him. “There, there,” you whimper, holding him tight against your pussy.

Beneath you, Jungkook exhales harshly against your lips, hands moving frantically over your thighs as he works his tongue inside of you alongside the bullet vibrator. If you weren’t so caught up in your own pleasure, all kinds of sounds spilling from your lips, you would have heard the quiet moans that fall from his. Alas.

It takes a few more pulses from the toy and a few more licks from Jungkook until you’re coming for the third time that night, features twisting up as your pussy clenches around his tongue before spilling down his mouth. Your back arches, a defeated moan escaping you as you release the same mess he’d claimed to clean up onto his lovely face. You can barely breathe afterwards, mouth dry and head dizzy when Jungkook finally pops back out from between your thighs. You barely have enough time to lift yourself up, pussy lightly brushing across his Adam’s apple as you stop yourself from crushing his windpipe. It makes you twitch.

“Good girl,” Jungkook praises with a cheeky smile that distracts you from the bullet toy he retrieves from your quivering cunt. His face is absolutely glistening from your arousal, skin warm and flush. He’s looking up at you like you’re some mythical goddess and he’s but a humble villager coming to pay his respects at the temple that is your body. Fuck, were you okay? You don’t think you’ve ever felt this good in your entire life, and Jungkook’s mushy gaze was doing things to your heart.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh before helping you off of him, laughing meanly when you flop limply down beside him. He’s still fully clothed, a fact that irks you when he leans over to kiss you with that glossy face of his. “D’you like it?” he mumbles, kissing softly down your face. You nod, legs twitching from the aftermath of that wild ride. “I saw it, y’know,” he says suddenly.

“Saw what?” you mumble, mindlessly rolling your head to the side and exposing more skin when he begins kissing along your neck.

Jungkook says nothing, just rolls over you. Part of you thinks he’s crazy, but you’re suddenly hit with the realization that while Jungkook’s drawn three orgasms out of you in the course of an hour, you hadn’t done anything for him. Before you can dive head first into swallowing his cock, he’s kissing you softly. “That stupid face,” he smirks, slotting his mouth against yours. “That weird, now realistic face,” he tacks on.

You huff out a laugh, throwing your leg around his waist comfortably. Jungkook smiles, kisses you one last time before settling in your arms, face cutely pressed in between your boobs. “Hey,” you call, “don't you wanna cum too?”

He shakes his head, a soft sigh filling the air. “Nah,” he says, cuddles closer into you. “Rest now, baby.”

You roll your eyes. “I can feel your dick against my thigh,” you point out, wiggling your pelvis upward to brush against his throbbing erection. Jungkook holds you down in an effort to stop you. “Fuck me.”

He groans against your collarbone. “No, you’re tired,” he tries to convince you, but his skin is warm and flushed in the way it always gets when he’s riled up. “Sleep.”

With the leg around his hip, you pull him closer. “Fuck me, Jungkookie,” you purr, using the hands in his hair to turn his face up towards yours. His dark eyes are drawn down cutely, pouty lips too. “Use my body,” you suggest, “I’m yours anyway.”

His eyes flutter shut, a quiet whimper falling from his lips. “Don’t say that,” he sighs, “makes me wanna do very mean things to you.”

You smile. “You can do whatever you want to me, don’t you know that?” Another groan, his head falling forward until he’s hiding in your neck. Still, there’s movement from below, he sweats slipping down at his hips until that throbbing cock is pressed into the tiny crease where your thigh meets your pelvis. There’s a moment of hesitation, and you wonder if this is what he felt like earlier when he’d managed to get you to sit on his face. “Inside, Jungkookie,” you murmur, reaching down to line him up with your sensitive entrance. He whines softly, arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close. “Good boy.”

Despite your earlier belief that you’d never survive an encounter with Jungkook after using such a term on him, the result is much different from what you had anticipated. He visibly melts into your arms, cock slipping past your folds easily. “No,” he says, his voice feathery and whiny against your ear. “I can’t.”

You soothe a hand down his back, eyes fluttering shut as he begins slowly rutting against your swollen lips. “That’s it,” you encourage, tugging softly at his wavy hair. Jungkook moans wantonly against your neck, rolling his hips harshly against you until his arms are the only things keeping you from jostling out of his hold. “Do you like this pussy?” you ask, purposefully clenching around him, tummy tightening at the stimulation you keep packing on.

Jungkook shudders, pace growing slipping inside of you. “Yes,” he pants, “s-so wet… creamy.”

“Yeah?” you huff, pressing a smiley kiss against his forehead. “It’s yours.”

“Ffffuck,” Jungkook chokes, picking up his pace as his well-deserved orgasm reaches its peak. He’s breathing harshly now, and it’s taking everything in you to keep your pussy tight around him. But after the night he’d given you, the sounds and faces he pulled from you, it’s the least you can do. Besides, your body, after being so thoroughly pleased, still rears up for one final orgasm with him. “Mine,” he growls, bucking his hips into you. “You’re mine, baby, mine,” he seethes, ending his little tryst with a piston of his hips that makes you gasp, body almost unconsciously spasming around him. It’s painful, but so, so delicious how he manages to pull this last orgasm from you as he finally busts inside of you.

He comes with a stuttering garble of words, none of which you catch as he collapses into your hold for the final time that night. “Fuck,” he pants afterwards, leaning into your touch when he finally registers the soft combing of fingers through his hair. “That was evil.”

You laugh, pulling him closer. “As evil as you making me suffer through three orgasms before putting your dick in me?” you tease. Jungkook slips out of you, and you know it’ll be a hassle to clean your sheets tomorrow but it’s worth it.

“It’s called building the scene,” he weakly defends, blindly tugging the puffy blanket over the two of you. “I was gonna rhyme it with that horrible website you made me use but I already forgot it’s name.”

“Rude,” you snap, “it’s called KissAnime.”

“And fore-play,” he suddenly says, and you almost yank his eyeballs out of their sockets for doing that stupid thing again.

—

epilogue 

Two weeks later, your favorite website and home to hentai ads is shut down after years of piracy. Jungkook laughs at your demise, sits and actually cackles at your heartbreak, until he eventually comforts you with his flaming demon cock and a subscription to both Crunchyroll and Funimation. Doyeon spends weeks tracking down a missing package, apparently some freebie she’d gotten for being such an avid customer on Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! before eventually finding it in your drawer. And because her and Jungkook have some awkward life-long rivalry for your attention, he doesn’t pay for that. 

—

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[lilac-5ky]

Roommates from Hell, pt.5 (Toji x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 5: Off to the Races/A can of worms

Chapter 4 | Story Masterlist | Masterlist | Requests

A/N: reposting cause tumblr is being a bitch with the tags Worm's debut, aye! Also, let us all who thought it was horse races and not boat races lament in silence.

Warning: Curse attack counts as a warning I suppose. Mentions of blood, strangling, etc.

The furniture carrier service arrived with your stuff two days later, on a rainy Monday morning. The two middle-aged men congratulated you in broken Japanese for your wedding, whose ceremony apparently took place at Okazaki Jinja (also known as Rabbit’s Shrine) on Christmas Eve, and according to Toji, you looked most stunning in your shiromuku kimono.

His descriptions were so vivid that whenever he called you honey and wrapped an arm around your waist, you questioned whether your own wedding invitation was lost in the mail.

The charades continued even after the men departed, reaching their climax when Toji tossed you a slotted screwdriver and willed you into work, because what is a wife if not a slave?

That’s not to say Toji was a lousy fake husband. Not only did he offer to christen his new bed together, but to also perform “the shit” out of his marital duties. Neither happened, and every mention of you as his pretty little wife faded with the melting of the ice and the blooming of the plum trees.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, and before you knew it, the two of you had fully adjusted to each other’s presence. For the most part. You still found it excruciatingly hard to get over the recurrent mess he left in the bathroom as if he were digging for Atlantis, his habit of discarding bloodied clothes in the corridor rather than the hamper, the Easter egg hunt you regularly embarked on in search of his stashed dirty plates, and of course, his turning the living room into a gym, not minding that his roommate just so happened to be a single female with urges of her own.

And for the record, his offers to join him in the shower only multiplied after he got his hands on the first water bill and insisted bathing together would help cut down on unnecessary expenses.

Toji was a handful, and living with him felt as if you were a contestant at Takeshi’s Castle, minus the guards whooping you with sticks and the exorbitant cash prize to justify your endurance. But even with the constant temptation that he was, you’d grown appreciative of your shared routine.

A typical weekday involved you getting up at the crack of dawn to prepare breakfast and side dishes ahead of lunch. The sounds of tinkering pots reached his ears before the whiff of freshly brewed coffee got to his nostrils—a bedhead Toji sheepishly stumbling his way into the kitchen with sweatpants low around his hips and a fist jabbing the sand off his eyes as he greeted you with the groggiest of Mornin’s.

You shared breakfast until duty called, and on days he found sitting at home as a trophy wife too tedious for his tastes, he popped by the diner for a “free” meal paid straight out of your pocket.

By the time you got home late in the afternoon, Toji had already half-assed his assigned chores and would either be zapping through the channels or going through another one of your belongings. Last week featured your junior high diary, whose existence and table of contents remained blurry until he cracked a joke about your short-lived crush on the hot substitute history teacher and you snorted a noodle out of your nose.

The nights were spent evaluating teenagers in idol shows, betting pizza slices on MMA fighters, dissing soap opera protagonists for their terrible life choices, and attempting to solve the cases in crime dramas ahead of the detectives. Cheap thrills for cheap entertainment, with the one to get the most correct answers during “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?” entitled to minor rewards ranging from red bean soup in the cold months and shaved ice in the Summer, as well as foot rubs for you and shoulder rubs for him.

Time in your apartment moved at the languid pace of snow globe snowflakes and at the hurried tempo of hourglass sand. Five months later—in June, specifically—you barely remembered how to replace light bulbs or the bus routes from and to your job because you couldn’t recall a day-to-day life without Toji. Your hand naturally set a second plate on the table; your voice naturally placed an extra wonton order at the Chinese joint; your eyes naturally crinkled at each of his antics; and your lips naturally arched upon his welcoming you home; you naturally weren’t alone anymore.

And in a way, this was everything you’d ever wanted, but in plenty of others, you were terrified of losing it all to his former lifestyle when Toji came to his senses and realized this kind of life wasn’t for him—that you weren’t for him.

To reward him for being somewhat frugal and to exercise impulse control, you gathered some of your savings and surprised him with a trip to one of his favorite places. However, what ended up stealing the limelight was the big floppy hat on your head, which had last been in fashion before the Titanic sank.

In your defense, whatever impression you had of horse racing came from Hollywood movies where the rich and mighty spectated from their VIP seats with their fancy binoculars and fancier parasols. A near-empty venue with takoyaki stalls and an audience of men spread as sparsely as the hairs on their scalps was not what you expected.

“She’s a foreigner,” Toji explained to the bookie, whose eyes narrowed at the odd combination of your yellow umbrella-shaped hat paired with a white formal sundress and matching barrette heels.

“You should’ve told me,” you huffed as Toji led you to a corner next to the booths.

“Tell ya what?”

“That I’d stick like a sore thumb! Feels like everyone’s staring at me.”

He licked his fingers and hastily flipped through the racing cards. “That’s because you are the prettiest in ‘ere.”

You tugged your hat lower over your reddened face, mumbling, “They’re all pensioners anyway.”

He didn’t pay you any more attention until he was done sorting the papers. He went over the general rules of betting, recommending you put your cash on the odds-on Narita Brian, a Thoroughbred stallion that already counted seventeen victories in his seven-month career. And you would have trusted his intuition if you hadn’t suddenly remembered about his one-sided affair with Lady Luck.

While Toji was off to grab seats, you wagered half of the money on his choice and the other half on the newest entry at the very bottom of the list—an Arabian horse named Doraemon. You collected the slips and spotted him in the middle rows of your section, his feet arched against the empty front seat and his arms spread over the ones beside him. You sat down on his left and handed him his slip, glancing down at the tracks.

Men in identical caps that merely differed in color were tending to their mounts, fixing their halters in place. The race wouldn’t start for another thirty minutes, during which Toji ran on about jockeys, breeds, and records, letting you in on how the majority of the contesting horses were between the ages of two and three and how they collectively shared their birthdays on January 1. It was unlike him to gush about his interests, but there was no mistaking it; he loved it there.

You did your best to keep track of the complex terminology and Doraemon’s blue flair as the herd of horses made it to the starting gates. The bell rang without any further delay, and Toji’s voice fell into an abrupt hush as he watched Narita Brian fall second to Golden Wind and third to the newcomer Doraemon. He tore his slip into bits while you struggled to come up with the right words to say—though the cash spoke plenty of its own.

“Beginner’s luck,” Toji scoffed, maintaining a five-step distance as the two of you walked toward his rental of the month, a German silver sedan with ivory leather coating.

You triumphantly fanned your face with the envelope. “Is that what losers call it?”

“Beginner’s luck,” he repeated.

“This has nothing to do with luck. Simply me trusting in my childhood hero to save the day.”

He slurred something under his breath and hopped in the driver’s seat, banging the door with a thud that bounced across the parking lot, filled with the cars of people from the family restaurant next door.

“I’ve saved your ass a lot more than that stupid robo-cat, but I don’t see ya trustin’ me.”

You rolled your eyes and fastened your seat belt. You shuffled the banknotes and split them into twos, gesturing for Toji to open his palm.

“I trust you. Just not your luck.”

For once, he was hesitant to accept. “Save your pity cash. You earned it.”

“No, we earned it.” You grabbed his hand and slotted the bills right in. “I bet our savings. Even if your prediction fell out, you are still entitled to half of the prize.”

His fingers closed around yours, his thin obsidian brows relaxing as you held the weight of his persistent stare. “Wouldn’t do the same if our roles reversed.”

“I know.”

“And you’re wrong to gimme half. I pay less rent and snatch the spare change when you’re not lookin’.”

“That’s why I trust you,” you smiled. “If anything, you are consistent.”

His bottom lip twitched as if there was something else to say. There wasn’t. He let your palm fall empty onto your lap and put the key in the ignition, slinging his arm over your headrest to back into the road. You didn’t budge. Not in the slightest.

Not even when his mouth was inches away from yours, hooded jade eyes teasing his intentions.

“You are hopeless,” he said.

“Already know that,” you answered.

Not long after you hit the road, you found yourselves parked outside a grocery store in Minato City, the horizon melting into saturated ripples of copper gold and dusty pink. Toji motioned for you to hurry and reclined against his pushed-back seat in an attempt to escape the invasive sun glare.

You stepped out of the vehicle, momentarily popping in to drop your hat over his face. He groaned before acknowledging your gesture with a soft Thanks and an even softer smile, both hidden under the hat’s wide brim.

“I’ll cook you something real tasty for dinner. Your favorite!” The words scattered behind you as you broke into a jog, hair flowing freely against the wind and heart thumping lightly to the monotone chirp of the cicadas.

A beep declared your entrance to the three conversing part-timers who rushed back to their registers—two of them experienced enough to greet you with a bow of their heads, and the other too preoccupied with her phone. Teenagers. Around the same age you were when you got your first gig at that convenience store in Sendagaya.

You grabbed a basket and surveyed the aisles for ingredients. It was too hot for motsunabe but just right for yakitori. You could get some liver (since he was particular about offal) and toss it in the pan, or broil it in the oven. Or, you could go all out and opt for the priciest cut on the shelf: ribeye steak. Granted, Toji wouldn’t tell the difference between Kobe and Sirloin even if it was pointed out to him, but you wanted to savor such a delicacy at least once.

The closer you got to filling the basket, the emptier your wallet got. At checkout, the employee rang up your groceries and stuffed them all in one bag. She thanked you for your purchase, and you trudged outside.

A tinge of violet contoured the pale moonlight, the starry curtain yet to drop. It was the kind of night that made you wish you had a rooftop to yourself. Just you, the stars, and the man whose arm dangled lazily from the driver’s window.

“Hey, what time is it?”

It was safe to assume Toji didn’t share your sentimentalism.

You fished your phone out of your handbag, balancing the groceries against the trunk. “Like, uh… 7:32. Why?”

His fingers drummed at the door, while his lips kept his contemplation private. “Mind goin’ home on your own?”

“On my own?” you blinked. “Why, what happened?”

“Something came up,” Toji said, revving up the engine. “Won’t take long.”

Without getting to ask about the gender of that so-called something, you were deserted in the empty parking lot, witnessing all color in the skies be swallowed by absolute black tar.

You made it home an hour and three buses later, your first initiative being to check on the thawed ice cream pint. Chunks of Belgian chocolate floated on the surface like skerries amidst a vanilla-bourbon ocean. You slammed the lid shut and tossed it in the trash. No dessert for him—assuming he made it in time for dinner, that is.

You threw yourself into work, marinating your suspicions in soy sauce, glazing your apprehension with sherry vinegar, chopping your anger into fine bits, and lastly, searing your frustrations over the stove’s fire.

Whether he was clinking virgin margaritas with some non-virgin Mary at a rooftop garden party in Hibiya was none of your business. You had no right to ask. No right to phone him. No right to worry. No right to blow a fuse either. He had his life and you had yours, and for every point they intersected, a million others existed to divide them.

Still, you had every right to feel like a world-class idiot for thinking these past months ought to take the wild out of the wolf.

The first text came at a quarter past ten. Be there soon. You set the table and messed with the cutlery, arranging and rearranging it over and over again. Steak’s best eaten warm, but it’d be fine. He’d be there soon.

Around eleven, you got a second message. Start without me. You’d already eaten half the salad and gotten a head start on the main course. The meat was worth every penny. It was simply delicious.

By midnight, only his side of the table remained untouched. The ice in his water had melted, the glazed carrots had turned soggy, and the main course was as stale as damp dog hair. What a waste.

You processed the vacancy in his spot, sticking Toji’s image on the chair like a cut-out from a magazine. Inanimate, but there. So close that you could almost tell him off about the overgrown fringes he’d consistently refused to let you snip, when your thoughts were cut short by another buzz—this time, a single word.

Sorry.

Your fingers rehearsed different replies. It’s fine, paired with a smiley face that’d surely cost you a few hundred yen. What are you sorry for? Another fine, albeit more aggressive, alternative. A direct approach with a Who is she, and the most pathetic choice of all: Why can’t it be me?

You dropped the phone and piled up your dishes, emptying the rest of the salad into his. You’d barely reached the sink when the device began to vibrate again, each ring driving the phone closer to the edge of the furniture. The caller hung up before you had the chance to press Decline. Or so you thought until an agitated Toji yelled at the other end of the line. You disposed of the plates and rushed to the table, bringing the speaker to your ear.

“What are you on ab— Hello?” A series of acute beeps terminated the dial.

Please don’t tell me it’s broken, you pleaded while you examined the screen, tapping it on the back as if it were one of those stubborn old TVs— your eyes widening at the final text in your SMS window. You swore you’d deleted everything, but faced with such compelling evidence, your conviction seemed worthless.

You tried to punch in an excuse when a second round of buzzes launched the phone to the floor, where it typed away on its own, twisting your words into incoherent slurs that exceeded the character limit, the last of which repeated the same three-letter word in uppercase letters.

DIE

Startled, you tripped against your chair and knocked it down, the flickering lights drawing your attention to the ceiling. You stole a glance at the intact switch and dashed to the far-end table corner, piecing a steak knife between trembling fists. You’d watched enough horror movies to know those who acted last died first.

“Hey, asshole! That scared to show your ugly mug, you’ve gone into hiding?” You swung the knife forth. “Come out; promise I won’t judge.”

The electricity in the room settled only for the air to turn abnormally cold, your puny strikes facing resistance against the invisible body of your opponent. You gulped, wrapping your fingers tighter around the handle.

“Okay, maybe you aren’t a wuss, but you’re still rude! Attacking me in the middle of the night, implying, what, that I’m single? Since when is that a crime? Breaking and entering, on the other hand, now that’s a felony!

The lack of reaction prompted you to further your display of wits. “Wake up. This is the 21st century, and women can do just fine without man-whores in their lives. Gotta be a real stuck-up to think otherwise.”

Your spiteful insults tackled you to the ground, as your attacker seized the opportunity to entangle themselves around your ankles and decisively shimmied up your throat. A snake? No, this thing definitely had claws. A centipede maybe?

“Who the fuck you think you are deciding if I live or die? Y-you think,” you coughed, blindly stabbing anywhere you felt its presence, “dating is that easy? Why not do it yourself, then? W-what are you here f-for?”

Flight wasn’t in the cards anymore. The spirit’s clutches sank deeper into your flesh as it feasted on your emotions, steadily growing stronger. You combed through Toji’s stories for something to help you get rid of this thing before it got rid of you—a weak spot, a way of striking, a non-sorcerer technique—anything. But staying focused when the oxygen tank that fueled your brain begged to be depleted was plain impossible.

Choosing fight over fright, you ripped through the air with your knife once more. The limitations between your body and the curse’s were unclear. Warm blood trickled from where the sharp edge nicked your unpracticed knuckles, the grip loosening until all there was left for you to do was flap the air, falling victim to the overwhelming pressure in your head.

You were really going to die. Alone and helpless on the unmopped kitchen floor to a foe imperceptible to the naked eye.

What would Toji do?

He’d probably be the one to find your body shaping one of those funny chalk outlines from Law and Order. You didn’t want to admit it, but he was the better detective. Even if the cops wrote you off as another serial case victim, he’d know a curse did it.

You pictured his reaction, hoping he’d at least shed a tear at your loss, that your absence would at least strike a chord in his heart, that you’d at least be included as a highlight in his collection of scars; that you at least wouldn’t be forgotten.

It was fine to be selfish this once, right? After all, you didn’t ask to be missed or honored like a lover or a wife would. Just to be remembered with a smile, as fondly as you recalled him during these final breaths of your pitiful life—a life he alone made worth living.

There were so many things you wished you’d told him, though what you regretted the most was not thanking him for that day at the bridge, knowing fully well you’d never get the chance to.

In the throes of death, two brown antennae sprouting from a gruesome creature you lacked the courage to describe overtook your vision. Thank God you weren’t able to see this earlier. You would have shat your pants and died in a pool of shit.

“There you are… ugly bastard as expected.”

Just when you thought you’d set sail for the other side of the river, a sound akin to that of a bug being stomped pulled you back into what you prayed was reality.

“Been called a bastard before, but ugly?” A viler crunch followed, the centipede crumbling into a pile of dust to reveal the smug grin on your savior’s scarred lips. “Now that’s a first.”

Relief washed over your self-inflicted wounds and abused trachea as you somehow found it in you to stumble rather than leap to the heaven of your choice, an ugly sob muffling all which you tried to say. The sword—judging by the volume of the collision—dropped to the floor as Toji welcomed you in his arms, a large palm rushing to rub the small of your back while his other hand combed through your hair reassuringly.

“It’s okay,” Toji cooed. “I got you now.”

You wept even harder, the gentle tone as he repeated those four words bringing about the opposite of the desired effect. How could you’ve given up so easily when it meant not hearing his voice or seeing his face ever again? How could you doubt your death would shake him when he was frantically kissing apologies on the crown of your head, cradling you as if he was the one who needed to be saved? How could you feel so idiotically ecstatic when you’d nearly turned into curse food?

Still sniffling in his shirt, you wiped your eyes against the fabric and peered at him, taking in his knitted eyebrows and downturned mouth—the worry in his features—and eventually the extra body between you.

“Hey, Toji. What’s that around your waist?”

The potent smell of antiseptics took your kitchen by storm as Toji laid out the first aid kit’s contents over the congested dining table, fitting sterile gauze dressings and iodine bottles in the gaps created by the plates. His chair was dragged closer to yours while he constantly hunched forward, holding both your hands in his own and operating with a little less care than you were willing to tolerate.

“Ouch!” You flinched when his knuckles grazed another of the myriad open wounds that spanned from the apex of your elbow to the chipped tips of your fingernails—none too deep to demand serious medical expertise.

Ignoring your whiny tone, he looped the bandage around your thumb again, this time pressing even harder against your bone. “What a crybaby.”

“Anyone would cry if they were being mummified!”

“Not mummies, they wouldn’t.”

Your next protest lost its turn to the shrill squeak emitted by the elephant, or rather, the worm in the room, whose presence you’d temporarily forsaken. Despite it being of the tubular crawling kind, it didn’t look half as appalling as the monstrosity you witnessed. If anything, its plump lips and rounded cheekbones resembled a human baby more than they did an actual worm.

The creature continued bobbing its head up and down on Toji’s shoulder, its eyes perfectly shut, while it shuddered at its master’s quip. Not only was it sentient, but it was also openly laughing in your face. You hated it.

“What is that thing anyway?” you asked.

“How many times you gonn’ ask? Worm.”

“I can see it’s a worm, Toji, I’m not blind,” you sighed. “I’m asking what’s this worm doing wrapped around your neck like a travel pillow.”

He kept silent while binding the remainder of your fingers—four of them together and the fifth left apart—though “encasing” seemed more appropriate given his dedication to providing you with a proper pair of mittens. He taped the loose end and grabbed the second roll, letting go of your treated hand.

“A’right, quiz time.” Twin shimmers sparkled playfully in his jade eyes. “How do chefs carry their equipment around?”

“You mean their knives?” He nodded. “They stuff them in a roll so they don’t knock each other.”

Toji snapped a quick thumbs-up. “Next question, what’s the name of that movie we watched last week?”

You processed his question while kissing your teeth. “Can I get a hint?”

“A hint, huh?” He scratched his jaw, eventually grinning. “The one with the pervy lawyer and the hot chick who pissed herself.”

“You mean ‘The Secretary’?”

“Rephrase it.”

“The assistant?”

He crooned in approval. “And now for the million-dollar question,” he leaned closer. “Why do people keep mutts?”

“For company? For uh… protection?” He shook his head at both.“Really? Can I phone a friend?”

“Nope. Go simpler and you’ll find it, ain’t that hard. Well, not as if you have anyone to call either.”

You kicked at his chair’s front leg and faked a slap on his giddy face. “You are lucky I have these on, or else!”

“Or else what?” Toji caught your wrist. “You’d hit me?”

You dabbed his cheek lightly enough for him to return to his seat with a complacent smile as he resumed dressing your hand.

“You are the lucky one. A real centipede would have bitten its venom into you. Must have annoyed the livin’ shit out of that curse to have it choke the words outta your potty mouth.”

“You call that luck?”

He hummed, flipping your palm on his knee to pour iodine over a scratch. You hissed as he brought it to his mouth and blew on the wound. “Don’t wanna know about Worm anymore?”

“I… do.”

“Then answer,” Toji said.

“Fine, fine.” You groaned. “You said simpler, so… pet?”

“Bingo. Put ‘em together, and you get your answer.”

“So you are telling me that this worm is your knife carrier, slash hot assistant, slash pet? Is that it?”

He carefully folded the bandage on the inside of your palm and crossed it between your fingers. Again, he didn’t speak until the work was done and you’d retracted your hand.

“In other words, the inventory curse, yes. Reason why you couldn’t off that curse is because ya hit it with a regular knife. You need something imbued with cursed energy; everything else just tickles.”

“That explains a lot,” you mumbled bitterly.

“Can’t cut bread with a cheese knife, can ya?” Toji continued. “Worm over here carries my cursed tools for me. He doesn’t cap, doesn’t bark, and doesn’t drop his pencils either.” He sneered as he cued the worm to open its mouth. “Watch.”

Without receiving a single order, the curse parted its lips to reveal the fur-embedded hilt of a broadsword twice the size of your table, which Toji easily unsheathed and set on the ground.

“That’s 500 million for ya. Cuts through pretty much everything.”

Your eyes widened while he proceeded to showcase his collection, bringing out daggers and claymores that ranged from hundreds of thousands to even a billion yen. He went into some detail when it came to the fancier ones, but the majority were dismissed as either “sword” or “gun”.

Finally, he pulled out the hat you’d lent him and placed it on your head—not a single blotch of saliva, despite it coming straight from the worm’s intestines.

“Don’t you dare tell me you can’t afford rent next time!” You scoffed, watching as the worm crawled down his torso and gobbled up the weapons one by one. It was amazing. Kind of disgusting, but amazing all the same.

“So, Mister Zen’in.” You curled your fingers however best you could and shoved them in his face like a makeshift microphone. “What’s it like being a single dad at the tender age of 28?”

Toji smacked your hand away. “Keep callin’ me that, and I’ll give ya a taste.”

You would have given yourself another injury if it weren’t for his quick reflexes stabilizing your chair in time. You were blushing mad, and it wasn’t from the shock. He was smirking, and it certainly was from the way your thighs instinctively buckled around his hand—something you became aware of only after your feet had landed on the floor.

“Done with the interrogation?”

He plopped down on his chair and motioned for the worm to come over. It obeyed, wrapping itself first around his leg and then around his torso before nuzzling his neck. They both seemed so content in each other’s presence that your joke felt more like an expression of reality. Toji with a pet—now that’s new.

Putting his question on hold, you stabbed a carrot with a fork and offered it to the creature. “Here, wormie, wormie! Have a treat.”

“Wormie?” Toji quirked a brow.

“Cuter than you calling him Worm,” you imitated his raspy tone.

Wormie glanced at its master for confirmation before opening its mouth and swallowing the carrot along with the fork. You wondered if you’d ever get that back, but were stunned to see Wormie slide from Toji’s shoulder and devour two of the plates like that masked spirit in Spirited Away.

He—taking Toji’s word that Wormie was a male—slithered across the table and stood in front of you with an amicable expression, his lips rounding to emit three little toots that you gladly interpreted as Thank you for the food; it was delicious. My owner is an idiot for missing out.

Begrudgingly, you lifted your hand to pet him, managing a small head pat before Wormie returned to Toji. At least his pet had superior tastes to his—both in women and in food.

“Done now?” You nodded with a faint smile. “Good, ‘cause I’m beat.”

“Wait!” You blurted as soon as he stood up. “I mean, what if that thing has friends?”

“Friends?” Toji echoed with a chuckle. “Scared a curse more popular than you?”

Really lucky, you growled.

“What if… What if they team up against me to exact revenge while I’m asleep?”

“Oh? That’s what scares ya?” He laughed again, and you should’ve known he was up to no good when he answered, “I can fix that.”

“Is this really necessary?”

Your question felt out of place when the two of you were crammed in the sleeper sofa like canned sardines—Toji’s left arm comfortably stretched beneath your head as a pillow, while his other willed your body into a snug, albeit humid, embrace. Summer was hot enough without being subjected to his breath fanning steam onto your neck or having the press of his bare chest against your clothed back, and you were already sold on this being your new sleeping norm.

“You’re the one who didn’t wanna sleep alone,” he gruffed in a tired voice.

In a way, he was right. You were the one who dug her heels in the couch and refused to budge even after he checked every house corner for signs of a demonic presence. Incidentally, you’d also been the one who acted as if you wanted to watch a late-night rerun on TV, promising not to disturb him.

One thing led to another. He put Wormie to sleep by quite literally ingesting him, cracked a soda open, and joined you. Your show ended; a movie began. He stole the remote; you threw a fit. He tossed you his shirt and made room; you slid off your dress and put it on. It smelled of gardenia; it smelled of you.

You stayed.

Any other day of the year, you would have raced to your room and hidden your head under your covers like an ostrich in the sand, yet no place in the world felt safer than his arms, knowing they hadn’t hosted another.

Of course, you weren’t keen to admit that. “I never said that!”

“You didn’t?’ Toji yawned. “Sure sounded like you did. Now zip it and sleep tight.”

Can’t get any tighter than this, you meant to argue, but your will to protest had died out. The first harbingers of dawn started gathering outside as chirping birds at your window ledge, drowning the mournful song of the cicadas. Bless Sakurai and that new part-timer for taking on your early Monday shifts.

You closed your eyes and let yourself be lulled into sleep when a realization shook you to the core. How could he possibly protect you while asleep?

“Would you suit up for my funeral?”

“Woman, one more word, and I’ll feed your ass to Wormie myself.”

You gasped, craning your neck to catch a glimpse of his chiseled yet visibly frustrated profile. “Wormie eats humans?”

“If he doesn’t, I will.” He fastened his arm around your stomach as if to get his threat across.“Shut up while I’m asking nicely, won’t ya?”

Some time passed since you’d last disturbed him, and his breathing evened out into a light snore, a hint of raspiness tingling the shell of your ear. He wasn’t lying about being exhausted, and although you’d spent countless nights sleeping in the same house, not once did you sleep close enough to hear all those little sounds he let out when he was at his most vulnerable.

You wished you had something to record him with, but mostly, you wished your view was that of his face as opposed to the ghost nightlight on the table.

A different version of today’s events replayed in your head, excluding all the harrowing details that haunted you in the night’s darkest hours. The races were fun; you should save money from now on to do that more often. The compliment wouldn’t hurt to accept. The food was amazing, the episode was alright, and his coming to your rescue was something straight out of a movie.

“Toji?” Making sure he was still asleep, you rolled to his side.

You had to brace yourself not to sigh in splendor as your eyes trailed over the unmapped expanse of his body, skimming over every valley and every peak leading down to the defined V-line that seemingly finished miles below the elastic of his sweatpants. You wondered how many kisses it would take to traverse that distance if the starting point was that of his agape lips, the outline of his scar dim between the greenish shadows in the room.

He had no right to look this beautiful. You returned to your old habit of counting rights and wrongs—and at the time, you couldn’t find a single fault to him, but a dozen in you, as you tilted your head and printed a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Thank you.”

As soon as the words were out of your mouth, you were locked in a kiss independent of your own wretched volition, as Toji’s lips branded yours with one of equal gratitude.

“You’re welcome.”

That should’ve been the end of it, but before you had the chance to pass judgment, you followed his lead in closing your eyes and were recaptured by his indelible warmth, lips moving together in sync as if there was something to be gained from each other’s mouth, bit by bit chipping in more than you’d bargained for, so desperate in your game of chance that your hands greedily seized the smallest of earnings.

His long fingers sank deep within your hair while he hiked up your (his) shirt, palm fondling the swell of your breasts without an inch of reservation, and it felt good—it felt bliss; so much better than it did at that hotel and all the other times your mind invented since. He was certain about where and how he wanted to touch you; every other woman he’d ever been with just practice for this moment, and even though he’d never said it out loud, you must’ve known that to be true.

It was always you.

Your hips bucked against his own as Toji squeezed your bodies together, his teeth joining in the action of his tongue as he bit down on your lip, feeling your leg coil tight around his torso and the tap of your heel on his toned back. That was the only way for you to feel him, considering the bandages greatly restricted the movements of your hands, which were awkwardly thrown over his back.

“You’re such a stubborn brat, know that?” He panted, pressing your ass firmly enough for the tent in his pants to poke at your clothed entrance. You nodded, brushing your nose against his. “Tell ya one thing, you do the other. Ask to kiss you, and you gimme your cheek. And now this?” He couldn’t resist slotting his tongue between your lips, pouring all his resentment into one sloppy and heady exchange of spit. “Gonna give ya a reason to thank me all week long.”

You shuddered at his words, attempting to steal his next sentence from his mouth before you were forcibly unlatched and turned the other way, your waist caged by both his arms so that you couldn’t budge.

“Week doesn’t start until tomorrow.” Toji seared a kiss on your nape, prodding the hair out of the way with his nose. “Now let me fucking sleep.”

A/N: so apparently tumblr fucks up posts when the tag list is featured inside the fic, which sucks and that might be the reason why I had to make three posts for this fic to be seen in its respective tags. I’ve tagged those who had to be tagged in the first one of these three posts, but since this chapter is hard ruined, I’ll do the tags on a reblogged version from now on.

this website seriously sucks. here are the two other versions of the exact same thing ._. first and second

you can still comment here if you wanna be tagged on future updates, and sorry for this entire mess ._.

[fibula-rasa]

12 Christmas Films of a Century Past

For some reason, I thought it would be a good idea to watch somewhere around 50 Christmas and Christmas-adjacent silent films from before 1920 to put together a playlist for you all. So, I hope you enjoy!

I chose these twelve as a representative selection. My general criteria were:

Christmas should be central to the story

The plot should be novel to a modern viewer or something a modern viewer would be surprised to see so early on film

The list on the whole should have a variety of settings and narrative structures

Here’s a direct link to the YouTube playlist if you want to watch them all in one go. (They are all shorter than feature length!)

Two quick presentation notes: 1. Some of the videos have music and some don’t, so you may want to check your volume level. 2. The intertitles for some of these films are not in English, so be sure you have captions turned on for English translations.

See the whole list BELOW THE JUMP!

1. Santa Claus (1898) (UK)

Directed by George Albert Smith

Short and sweet, this film sees children put to bed by their nanny on Christmas Eve and Santa Claus coming down the chimbley to fill their dutifully hung stockings. Director G.A. Smith used his own patented technique of double exposure to show Santa’s arrival without cutting away from the children’s room. Santa Claus might not pack the punch of a Méliès trick film, but it’s a fun novelty and is purportedly the first appearance of Santa Claus on film.

2. The Little Match Seller (1902) (UK)

Directed by James Williamson

This one’s quick but effective adaptation of the Hans Christian Anderson tragedy featuring impressively well-coordinated superimpositions.

3. The Christmas Angel (1904) (FR)

Directed by George Méliès for Star Film Company

The Christmas Angel follows an impoverished girl driven into the city to beg on a snowy winter night. First she’s chased away from a church by more seasoned beggars; then she’s thrown out of a poultry seller and harassed by police. On the verge of falling asleep in the snow, a rag-and-bone man rouses her and offers her help. Later, the girl passes out beside a road but is luckily spotted by a wealthy couple on a car ride. When they learn of her plight, they bring her home along with food and gifts.

Though not as fantastical as some of Méliès’ more famous works, The Christmas Angel is still highly stylized (and stylish) and features special effects that photograph beautifully. It’s also worth noting that the version of the film included here is the American cut. The original French cut, titled Détresse et Charité (Distress and Charity), did not include the sequence with the wealthy couple and instead ends with the girl dying in the snow.

4. The Night Before Christmas (1905) (US)

Directed by Edwin S. Porter for Edison Manufacturing Company

This is the first time the poem “Twas the Night Before Christmas” was put on film. Loosely following the poem, we see Santa Claus prepare for his yearly trek while a middle-class family prepares for his visit. When Santa heads out, we are treated to an extended panning sequence with a fully painted backdrop for a mini Santa and his reindeer to glide across. When Santa arrives at the family home, he chaotically dumps presents and decorations around their living room and makes a large, decorated tree appear out of thin air. (Across many of the movies I watched to put this post together, this seems to be a favored scenario for the jolly fat man around this time–and it’s delightful.) The family then wakes to find their gifts and the film closes with Santa directly wishing us a Merry Christmas.

5. A Little Girl Who Did Not Believe in Santa Claus (1907) (US)

Directed by J. Searle Dawley and Edwin S. Porter for Edison Manufacturing Company

Even at the risk of this list being too Edison heavy, I couldn’t leave this great short out. While walking with his mother, a rich little boy encounters a poor little girl alone in the cold. They take her home to play and warm up. When the boy learns that the girl doesn’t believe in Santa because apparently Santa doesn’t visit poor children, he hatches a scheme. On Christmas Eve, the boy has a stake out near the fireplace and takes Santa hostage, tying him up and holding him at gunpoint. The boy then forces Santa to visit the girl–going so far as shimmying down the chimney himself to let Santa in the front door. When the girl wakes up to a beautifully decorated tree, new toys, and a full stocking, she can finally believe in Santa Claus. While I’m generally not so into stories about supposedly benevolent rich people, I do love the implications this story has on how Santa Claus works and I also find the means with which the boy gets his way hilarious.

6. Il Natale di Cretinetti / Foolshead’s Christmas (1909) (IT)

and Come fu che l’ingordigia rovino il Natale di Cretinetti / How Greediness Spoilt Foolshead’s Christmas (1910)

and Il Natale di Cretinetti (1911)

Directed by Andre Deed for Itala Film

This entry is a three-for, which I hope you’ll excuse, but I couldn’t decide which Cretinetti Christmas to share! Cretinetti, the comedic persona of filmmaker Andre Deed, is an absolute agent of chaos.

In the 1909 film, Cretinetti attempts to bring a tree home for a Christmas party. The destruction escalates wildly, culminating in an entire building falling to pieces.

If you can believe it, the stakes are even higher in the 1910 film, when Cretinetti can’t resist sneaking out of bed on Christmas Eve to snack on the candy decorating the tree. When Santa sees what Cretinetti has done, he chides him and takes him back to his workshop, which is apparently in heaven. Destruction ensues. Cretinetti then proceeds to cause havoc for Saint Peter, annoying god so much that he calls the devil to come get Cretinetti. Cretinetti is then chased to hell where demons try to cook him alive. Thankfully, spoiler alert, it was all a bad dream and he wakes up on Christmas morning with a terrible stomach ache.

The 1911 film returns to localized chaos. Cretinetti has a run-in with a mail carrier and his Christmas packages get mixed up with one of the carrier’s parcels. The parcel contains three bottles of ether which then begin to emit gasses in the middle of the family Christmas party.

I wasn’t familiar with Cretinetti before reviewing films for this list, but I’m definitely going to seek out more of Deed’s movies. Each of these films had well-executed chaotic slapstick; over-the-top in all the right ways.

7. Making Christmas Crackers (1910) (UK)

Produced by Cricks & Martin Films for Clarke, Nickolls, & Coombs Confectionery

To start, if you’re not sure what a Christmas cracker is, it’s a colorfully decorated paper tube that makes a cracking noise as you pull it open. Inside the tube is a paper hat, a joke, and/or a small toy. It’s a traditional part of UK Christmas celebrations.

This short starts as a documentary of the workers at Clarke, Nickolls, & Coombs constructing the crackers. It’s a fun thought that as early as 1910, people were interested in watching how mass-produced consumer goods were made. It’s also fun to see these skilled workers ply their trade so deftly (even though I’m sure wages and working conditions were less than ideal). The film ends with a family celebrating around a Christmas tree topped with a functional giant cracker.

8. A Christmas Carol (1910) (US)

Directed by J. Searle Dawley for Edison Films Manufacturing Company

There are so so so many film adaptations of Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol made before 1920 that it was hard to choose which one to include on this list. In the end I chose this 1910 version for its economy of storytelling, fluid use of special effects, and for Marc McDermott’s great performance as Scrooge.

9. Broncho Billy’s Christmas Dinner (1911) (US)

Directed by Gilbert M. Anderson (Broncho Billy) for The Essanay Film Manufacturing Company

Gilbert M. Anderson was an incredibly prolific and popular filmmaker and star of early American film, particularly in his role as Broncho Billy. As was typical for Anderson, he’s pulling triple duty on Broncho Billy’s Christmas Dinner as the star, director, and producer. The film features a simple and heartwarming story.

On Christmas, Billy comes across a young woman in peril as her horses got startled and are now pulling her cart along wildly. Billy manages to wrangle the horses and in gratitude she invites him to Christmas dinner at her parents’ home. Unfortunately, her father happens to be the sheriff. But, all is well, as it turns out that Broncho Billy’s been given a pardon and the sheriff welcomes him to the table gladly.

The enduring appeal of outlaws or criminals getting into the Christmas spirit is fascinating to me and it’s cool to see such an early instance of the story!

10. Le Noel de la princesse / The Little Princess’s XMas Gift (1911) (FR)

Produced by Société Générale des Cinématographes Éclipse

In all honesty, this is the least Christmassy of all the films I included here, but its style and novelty stood out. The sets, costuming, and production design are lush. It might also be one of the weirdest Christmas stories I’ve even encountered.

After Lord Othberg passes away, the conniving Otto plans to assassinate the baby prince in order to inherit the lordship himself. He poisons the baby, but the princess prays for her baby brother to come back to life as her Christmas gift. An angel appears to her and they summon Jesus, who resurrects her baby brother. Of course, they then place the revivified baby in the castle’s nativity scene, to the joy of all but Otto.

11. Ida’s Christmas (1912) (US)

Directed by Van Dyke Brooke for Vitagraph Company of America

With a more classic Christmassy story, Ida’s Christmas tells us of a family who are facing hard times. Ida (played by a very small Dolores Costello) has her eyes on a pricey doll. Meanwhile, her mother seeks out employment with a wealthy family. The matriarch of the wealthy family overhears Ida’s wish and decides to buy the doll for her as a surprise. Later, Ida is distraught to find that the doll has been purchased but comes across a wallet that someone has dropped. She considers taking the money, but chases down the owner instead. The old man gives her some reward money for returning the wallet. Ida rushes to see if she can buy the doll, but has second thoughts when she thinks about how much her family could use the money. She arrives home with the money just in time for a Santa-esque old man to show up bearing packages and an assurance that the wealthy family has work for her father. The film ends with the family celebrating an unexpectedly Merry Christmas.

It’s a sweet story that hits so many beats of what we now consider traditional Christmas tales.

12. Rozhdestvo obitateley lesa / The Insect’s Christmas (1913) (RU)

Directed by Władysław Starewicz for Khanzhonkov

Fair warning, if you thought The Princess’s XMas Gift was odd, you might need to ready yourself for this one. Stop-motion virtuoso Władysław Starewicz (Ladislas Starevich) spins a tale about a tiny ornament of Santa/Ded Moroz coming to life on Christmas and going out into the wild to bring Christmas joy to creatures small and smaller, including a frog and a ladybug. Starewicz’s animation is as impeccable as ever and the short is imaginative and quirky.

[whattolearntoday]

July 1st is...

Canada Day -  Renowned for their politeness, the delicious local food known as poutine, and some of the most forward social and civil liberty laws in the known world. They began their existence in the world as three separate colonies that were all part of the British Empire, and Canada Day celebrates the joining of these three colonies and the creation of the country of Canada within the British Empire.

Creative Ice Cream Flavors Day -  A day to sample or wonder about the odd combinations of ice cream flavors.  From the savory and smoky to the sweet and surprising.

Gingersnap Day - Recipes for gingersnap cookies typically call for molasses, cloves, ginger, cinnamon, and brown sugar. The combination of sweet and spicy has long been enjoyed for generations. The lower calories in gingersnaps make them a healthier alternative to other cookies, but they also have additional benefits. For example, ginger, cinnamon, and clove all include anti-inflammatory and antimicrobial properties. They may also help fight heart disease. Cinnamon contributes to lower amounts of glucose in the bloodstream; ginger helps aid digestion, and cloves also help prevent oral diseases and headaches. 

International Reggae Day -  This day celebrates this Jamaican style of music and brings it to those unfortunate people in the world who may have yet to experience it.

Joke Day - It is not just a day for you to prove to everyone how funny you are. It is the perfect day for you to share laughs and to put a smile on people’s faces, including your own. Whether you prefer to share jokes or you like to listen to them, this is a day that is all about smiling, laughing, and having fun

Postal Worker Day - Recognizes postal workers all across the nation and encourages us to show our appreciation. Thank the numerous men and women who work consistently and diligently to deliver all of our mail. These employees suffer some of the harshest working conditions, yet continue to persevere six days a week.

US Postage Stamp Day -  The United States issued its first postage stamp on July 1, 1847. At that time, stamps were not required. A letter could be mailed without a stamp and delivery paid for by the recipient. In 1855, the postage stamp became mandatory.

ZIP Code Day - The origin of Zip Codes actually came from postal district numbers or postal zone numbers that helped mail carriers find their way within larger municipalities. London and Liverpool were among the first cities to be divided into these designated sectors, but by the end of World War I they were spread throughout the world, coming to the US in the 1920’s, and eventually used in all major cities by the end of World War II. It was somewhere around this time that the concept of a ZIP code came into existence.

[morningfears]

Nontraditional Graduation

Rating: PG

Summary: Calum feels bad that you have to miss graduation so he takes it upon himself to give you the best nontraditional graduation he can. || ((The class of 2020′s graduation isn’t exactly looking like the traditional graduation and as a member of that class, I was a little upset about it. So, here’s my take on a comfort fic.))

Word Count: 2.8k

Quarantine was, for lack of a better word, strange.

There were parts of it, namely spending your days with Calum and Duke in some sort of domestic fantasy, making up for lost time, that were almost nice. Not having to leave your home and go out into the world was almost nice, too. Under any other circumstances, you would’ve relished in these things. However, life felt a bit surreal and reality weighed heavily on your shoulders.

The street you lived on was never busy but as neighbors hunkered down and waited, the street (and city itself) was quiet. You saw the occasional neighbor out for a walk, never straying too far from their own home, and the mail carrier making their rounds but the streets felt eerily quiet. Life, understandably, felt like a movie that was placed on pause in March and forgotten about. 

Time had always felt like a stable concept, something dependable and easy to count on, but it no longer felt that way as days passed with seemingly no rhyme or reason. Four in the morning felt no different than four in the afternoon, Monday no different than Friday. If it weren’t for Calum’s weekly video chats with the boys - on Thursdays, of course, as Thursdays were for the boys -, you were afraid that you wouldn’t even know what day it was.

Before quarantine began, you’d been good about keeping your schedule written in a planner. Your work schedule was always there, right beside your class schedule, and your assignment due dates were even color-coded. It was helpful, a way to keep your hectic life in some sort of balance, and you’d managed to keep up with it for the first few weeks of quarantine. However, all of your organization flew out the window as the fatigue and discomfort of the situation really began to set in.

March and April had come and gone without so much as an indication of their passing and May’s arrival hit you much harder than you imagined it would.

Thankfully, your final semester of college was a light one. You’d planned it that way from the beginning, thanks to your advisor, and had ensured yourself a light course load that was supposed to leave you with time to job hunt and hang out with friends before everyone inevitably went their separate ways. You were grateful to your past self for that decision as you’d only had a few short Zoom meetings and a handful of easy assignments to submit in the month and a half between spring break and graduation.

If you were honest with yourself, graduation was something that you’d been looking forward to since August. It was a major achievement and you were excited to walk across the platform and gather the degree you’d busted your ass to earn. You and your friends had taken cliche photos in front of campus landmarks with a silly sign that read ‘Last First Day’ before classes began and had planned to make one that read ‘Now what?’ for after the ceremony. Your more artistic friends agreed to help decorate graduation caps, something you’d been looking forward to, and you’d even planned a Disney trip for the weekend before so that you could take photos in your cap and gown.

To make things even better, Calum had been able to book a later flight than the others so that he could stay in LA long enough for your graduation before heading out on tour with you by his side.

On paper, your plans were picture perfect. Everything felt like it was falling into place, like it was meant to be, and you were beyond excited. You were ready for something, anything, to celebrate the hard work you’d put in over the years - the late nights holed up in the library, studying and writing; the breakdowns over grades; the stress from trying your best to earn a degree.

But the universe had other plans.

You’d been the realistic one of your friends, cancelling plans and coming to terms with the fact that you most likely wouldn’t get a graduation the moment stay-at-home orders were announced, and spent the majority of your time trying to stay positive. There was nothing you could do to change what was happening and you knew that the cancellations were happening for the best.

Everyone was safer at home.

However, the positivity came at a price. Every time a negative emotion began to bubble, you swallowed it. Whenever you felt sad that you would no longer have late night dinners with friends after a rough class, whenever you felt disappointed that you had to cancel a road trip or a Disney trip, whenever you felt hurt that you wouldn’t get a graduation ceremony despite the hard work you put in to earn your degree, you bit them all back and reminded yourself that things could be worse.

You didn’t allow yourself to feel the emotions that were festering beneath the surface because they made you feel guilty. Feeling anything other than grateful for your health and comfort in the fact that you knew this situation wouldn’t make you or break you lodged an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of your stomach so you avoided those thoughts altogether.

However, as desperately as you avoided the negative thoughts for yourself, you were quick to comfort your loved ones and encourage them to experience their emotions fully. Calum, especially.

You knew that he was heartbroken - as were the others - that their plans for the album had had to change so drastically, so quickly. They’d all been so excited, so ready to release the album they’d put so much of themselves into, and things came to a grinding halt. You knew that they were devastated that the release of such a personal album had to be under such conditions. They couldn’t celebrate with the fans and, even worse, they couldn’t celebrate with one another.

Calum never complained but he did acknowledge his feelings. He talked openly, to you, about how disappointed he was that things were going the way they were even though he understood it all. He got it off his chest and moved on. You understood, he’d worked hard and deserved to have the album release they’d all been planning for. You told him as much in the days immediately surrounding the release, words of comfort leaving your lips as you ran your fingers through the blonde curls you were praying he kept.

And that was why he was completely and utterly baffled when he learned that you didn’t feel you deserved the same.

You’d never outright told him that you were upset about having to cancel your travel or that graduation was cancelled - in fact, you’d joked that you were glad because it meant you didn’t have to deal with crowds or packing - but he could tell just how much it was hurting you. You avoided bringing up those topics yourself and when you only offered enough words to move past them in a conversation, he learned to leave them alone. He could tell that you felt guilty for feeling sad and it broke his heart.

You’d worked so hard for graduation, for the things that were coming after, and to see you trying to pretend that it didn’t matter that they were cancelled worried him.

You were upset, more so than he realized, and he wanted to do something to make your nontraditional graduation a little easier on you. You’d been so kind and understanding when he was upset over the album release, when your friends were upset over their own cancelled plans, and to him, graduating college was an astounding accomplishment that deserved a celebration.

So, with the help of friends, he set out to make it a day that you would never forget.

Distracting you in order to set up for the impromptu graduation ceremony and party he was planning was much easier than he’d imagined it would be. You forgot that it was even supposed to be your graduation day - to be fair, you’d forgotten what day it was generally - until the calls from your family started rolling in.

You spent your morning on the phone, thanking relatives for their well wishes, but as everyone lamented the loss of a traditional ceremony on your behalf, he could tell that even though they meant well, the calls weren’t exactly helpful.

He knew that you didn’t want to talk about it, not yet,  and that you wanted to be alone so he encouraged you to go for a walk with Duke around the neighborhood. He sent you off with a kiss and he was glad to see that you felt better when you returned thirty minutes later. Your shoulders were lifted and your eyes were lighter as you watched Duke settle onto the couch for a nap after his adventure but your movements were still sluggish as you wandered around the house in search of something - anything - to entertain you.

In an effort to keep you out of the backyard for just a little longer, he guided you to the couch and encouraged you to take a nap with Duke, to cuddle up and watch television - binge something now that you were officially done with school and had time to properly enjoy it without the guilt of putting off schoolwork. It was easy, getting you to settle in, and he felt his heart break slightly as he watched you fight tears.

He took a little over an hour to finish decorating the backyard, each piece of his elaborate plan falling into place finally, before he returned to the living room. The first thing that Calum saw was you, curled up on the couch beneath a heavy blanket a friend had given you for Christmas, with Duke lying on your stomach and tears in your eyes as you watched a scene that would have pulled a few tears from you, already sad or not.

He bit back a laugh, both at your emotional investment in the show and at Duke’s annoyed huff as you made a noise at the scene, before he crossed the living room and kneeled down beside the couch. He waited a second, just until the credits began to roll, before pausing the television and nudging your shoulder.

“You okay, love?”

His words were soft, quiet in the still air of the living room, and he knew that the answer was no but, as expected, you nodded. “I’ve never seen this episode. All the good characters are leaving the show,” you answered, a pout on your lips as you shifted to glance at him.

He smiled, a barely there quirk of his lips, and shook his head before he stood from beside the couch and offered you his hand. “Come on, let’s get some fresh air. Give you time to process those feelings before you start another episode,” he teased, a grin on his lips as he watched you lift Duke and place him back onto the blanket as soon as you were out from under it.

“I don’t want to keep watching but I’m too invested in the story to stop now,” you mumbled, your voice muffled as you wrapped your arm around Calum’s and leaned into his side.

“You want me to hate watch it with you? I’ve been told my commentary’s excellent.”

“Your commentary is excellent, when it’s directed at the boys and not my television shows. Only I’m allowed to make fun of how bad it is. Deep down, I still love it,” you defended, a laugh leaving your lips as you followed Calum out into the backyard. He stopped, right by the door, and it took you a moment longer than it should have to notice. But when you finally lifted your head, confused as to why he’d paused before you made it to the swing, you were awed by what you saw.

The backyard had been transformed. Calum’s laptop sat on the table near the swing, a Zoom call open with the boys and family - both yours and his -, and beside it sat a box from your favorite bakery. There were balloons and string lights and shiny black and gold confetti littering the area and it brought tears to your eyes as you took in the amount of work Calum had done to give you some kind of celebration.

“It’s not the same, I know,” he began, gently tugging you closer to the setup, “but you deserve a celebration. You worked hard for your degree and I’m sorry you don’t get a traditional ceremony but we’re all really proud of you. Is this okay?”

It was hard to answer his question with the tears threatening to spill so you nodded and threw your arms around his neck in a tight hug. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice low as you tried to fight your emotions, and Calum nodded his acknowledgement as he gave you a smile.

Although it wasn’t the traditional ceremony, far from it, the graduation that you got was one that you knew you’d never forget. Your families didn’t stay long, only long enough to watch Calum hand you a rolled up piece of paper with a wide grin and for you to toss your cap into the air after turning your tassel, but the boys and their respective girls - and Mali - stuck around after to celebrate.

“We’re all really proud of you,” Ashton commented, a smile on his lips as he watched the others nod their agreement. “You’ve worked really hard and this isn’t the party we wanted to throw you but it’ll have to do for now. It was really inspiring to watch you put your all into getting your degree and all of your hard work has paid off.  I’m excited to see what you do next because I know it’s going to be amazing. Congratulations!”

“When we’re allowed to see each other again, we’ll do something fun,” Michael agreed, “but for now, just know that we knew you’d get your degree and put us dropouts to shame.” Michael’s comment was teasing, he had a grin on his lips as he raised his drink in a toast, and Calum muttered a faux-offended ‘hey!’ by your side. “Seriously, we’re really proud of you and happy for you. Congratulations!”

“I don’t know what I can say that they haven’t already said,” Luke laughed, “but it’s worth repeating that this is an accomplishment and we’re really proud of you. You did it! You graduated college! I’m not going to ask what your plans are now because no one has any plans right now but I know that whatever you do next, you’ll do it just as well. Congratulations!”

You leaned into Calum’s side, a wide smile on your lips, as you watched them all toast to your graduation. It was surreal, celebrating such an event via video call, but you were grateful for your friends as they all shared stories and jokes with the goal of making you laugh in mind. You spent nearly two hours chatting with them, your mood lifting significantly, before it came time to end the call.

When the last person was gone, Calum turned to you and offered a sincere smile. “I hope that made missing graduation at least a little easier. I know it was hard on you but you achieved something amazing and I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you,” you repeated, your heart light for the first time in weeks. “I was really upset about having to miss the ceremony but I think this more than makes up for it. Except I’ll be really glad to get my actual diploma, not a-“ you paused, taking a quick glance at the paper Calum had used, “oh my god, Cal! Not an instruction booklet that came with your awful wifi router.”

“Hey, it was the only paper I could find,” he defended, laughing just as hard as you as he realized what he’d handed you in lieu of your diploma. “But I’m glad this was a suitable stand-in. Michael was joking but it really is impressive. I dropped out of high school and here you are, getting your degree. You never let anything get in the way of achieving your goal and I’m really proud of you for working so hard.”

“I love you, you know that?”

“I do,” Calum nodded, a soft smile on his lips as you leaned in closer to him, “and I love you, too. Congratulations, love.”

In the end, you never could’ve predicted your graduation would end up turning out this way but the love and support from your friends and family, and from Calum, made your nontraditional graduation one that you would never forget.

___________________________________________________

Author’s Note: Yesterday should’ve been my graduation day. I technically did receive my MA but there was no ceremony. Even though I’ve already experienced one college graduation, having to miss this one hit me really hard and I spent yesterday in a bit of a funk. But, as I said, I’ve already had one college graduation so I consider myself lucky. To the class of 2020 experiencing their first graduation, I’m really sorry things didn’t turn out the way you were expecting. Just know that everyone is incredibly proud of you and it’s okay to be sad that you didn’t get a ceremony. I hope this is at least a little comforting. This isn’t the best but my mental health has been on the decline, as has my writing. I, of course, don’t mean to make light of the situation. I understand why graduations were cancelled,  I really do. But I still felt a loss and know that I’m not alone. So, to the class of 2020, congratulations and good luck on your future endeavors. I believe in you!

Tag List (like this post or message me if you want to be added!) : @toolazymyguy , @irwinkitten , @jamieebabiee , @glittersluke , @spicycal , @lusbaby , @everyscarisahealingplace, @brokenvirtualheartcollector , @if-it-rains-it-pours, @blisshemmings , @calumscalm , @lovemenowseemenever , @ijustreallylovezebras , @rhiannonmichelle, @p0laroidpictures , @tomscuddles , @loverofmineluke , @harrytreatspeoplewithkindnesss , @blueviiolence , @loveroflrh , @empathycth , @luckyduckydoo , @tobefalling , @bandsandbooksaremykink , @watch-how-she-burns , @megz1985, @wokeupinaustralia , @lucidlrh , @canterburyfiction , @cal-is-not-on-branding , @t-i-n-y-d-i-n-o , @jaacknaano , @findingliam-o , @mindkaleidoscope​ , @idk-who-i-am-anymore1 , @sammyrenae68 , @flowerthug , @calumsphile , @caitdaniels, @drummerboy794 , @writingfortoomanyfandoms , @x-lover-of-mine-x , @miliefayy , @sunaaii , @canterburyfiction , @sebrox40 , @nati-nn , @opheliaaurora23 , @bitterbethany , @sunnysidesblog​ , @333-xx​ , @thesubtweeter​

[mulletcal]

words with friends - ashton irwin blurb.

a/n: okay so i got this dumb idea when i saw lau ( @sexgodashton​ )’s tags on this post pls forgive me 

word count: ~1.8k

warnings: none

****

At first, Ashton thought that the lockdown with his 14-year-old niece wouldn’t be so bad - he’d have someone to talk to, crack jokes with, and binge Netflix with.  But about a week into them being told they couldn’t leave the house at all is when things started to get a little rocky.

“Uncle Ash, your WiFi is the absolute worst.  This is the 10th time it’s buffered for this episode of Peaky Blinders.  It’s too much,” she sighed, pausing the TV so that she could turn to him, “You need to look into getting a better service provider.”

Ashton frowned, glancing up from the game he had just lost on his phone, “Is that why I just lost this game of Words with Friends against Calum?”

“Probably! You both have terrible WiFi - so it was one of you,” On her screen, Ashton could see her looking up potential service providers that could be newly set up without them having to enter your home.

“I think it’s his, I’d put my money on it.  My internet’s been fine all this time,” Ashton typed up a message to Calum that said ‘bro your wifi is shit get it fixed’. 

“Fine, or were you just never home long enough for it to become a problem?” 

“Wow, hard hitting facts for a 14 year old.” Ashton’s phone pinged, a simple middle finger emoji as a response from Calum.

“Look, I found one that has contactless set up, and their reviews are great.  Just think about it - you don’t know how long this is going to last, and you don’t want to be in the middle of kicking Calum’s ass--”

“Language!” He laughed, placing a hand to his forehead, “Alright, alright. I hear you.  Send me the number so I can contact them about it.”

Within a few hours, everything had been arranged - Ashton realized he had a weird sense of attachment to his internet service provider, feeling guilty that he was cancelling on them, especially during a hard time like this.  Some reassurance from his niece helped though, and he accepted that his life would likely be better if when he was home he could watch a movie straight through without needing to pause it, go make a snack or two, and come back to see if it had loaded enough.

The next day, the new router arrived on his doorstep, and the man who delivered it was outside in his van, phone at the ready so he could walk Ashton through the setup.  Overall it was easier than expected, everything ready to go in less than an hour - he had expected some type of all day event; but much to his delight he was back settled into his couch, underneath a cozy blanket as he opened Words with Friends once again.

He was eager to be able to call his friend out on his poor WiFi, now knowing (hoping) that it would go rather seamlessly.  Unfortunately though, Calum was busy at the moment, so Ashton was left to select playing against a stranger the game suggested was his match of the day.  It wasn’t often he did that, trying to keep it to just the people he knew - but just this once couldn’t hurt.  What did hurt was the fact that this person was absolutely kicking his ass, making his jaw drop with every word they made.

At the end of their game, Ashton frowned when he realized he lost by almost 100 points - how was that even possible? His phone notified that this person wanted to go again, and he wondered for a moment if they wanted to face him again because he seemed like an easy person to win against.  His competitive side came out tenfold for this round though, trying his best to think of words that would give him the most bang for his buck, as it were.  He almost had them, a few points ahead - but then they put down a word that completely obliterated him.

Ashton almost threw his phone, he did, not used to losing so easily against someone.  He liked to think of himself as a wordsmith, he was a songwriter after all, he should be able to be better at this. Tapping the ‘chat’ option, his fingers hesitated over the keys before typing out ‘HOW?’.  Aggressive? Maybe, but he needed to know what their secret was.

Their reply was quick, a casual ‘😇’ and somehow that frustrated Ashton more.  Maybe he needed to go for a walk.  There was no reason why he should be such a sore loser about a game, maybe being on lockdown was driving him slowly stir crazy. His phone buzzes with another notification and the person asked ‘Another round, or are you too scared to lose again?’.  Oh, now it was on.

A couple hours, and many rounds later with some occasional banter back and forth between the two of them, Ashton finally needed to stop - his eyes felt like they had gone dry from staring at his phone for hours on end.  His niece came into the living room, her head cocking to the side.

“You’re in the same position that you were when I last came down here - have you finally turned into a couch potato? Should I call mom that I’m gonna have to start using you as our produce?” she asked, a grin on her lips.  His niece was a mirror image of his sister, and it made him frown - missing her more and more every day. “Why is your face so red? You feeling okay?”

Ashton hadn’t even realized that his face was warm - was he getting sick? Or was it the witty banter back and forth with the person from the game that had gotten to him? He hoped it was the latter, he’d feel incredibly guilty if his niece was stuck in his house with him while he was fighting what was likely the common cold, but the times were uncertain.

“D’know, doesn’t matter.  What do you want for dinner?” He asked, brushing off her questions as he followed her into the kitchen.

***

Days later, Ashton had kept up the banter with this stranger.  Their conversations were more frequent, and their games less so.  It was kind of nice to talk to someone new, someone who didn’t already know what to expect from him, or things to say.  His stranger friend seemed off today, and it made him frown slightly, thinking that maybe they were growing tired of talking to him.

‘Your wittiness is off today, friend, you doing alright?’ He typed out, pausing for a second before he pressed send - was it weird to ask that of someone? 

It wasn’t long before his phone lit up with a response, ‘Sorry, just tired. My neighbour likes to stay up until ungodly hours playing music, or drums.  Sometimes both at the same time.’

Ashton was mid-yawn as he read the words, a small laugh falling from his lips as he recalled his night; staying up until 3 am in his studio playing drums.  ‘Wow. Sounds like me and your neighbour could be buds, you should put in a good word for me.’

‘Would if I knew them, I moved in not long before all of this started.  Didn’t get a chance to be the weird neighbour that pops by with cookies.’ 

Ashton bit his tongue at that, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips, ‘Do it anyways, be even weirder and leave them on the doorstep, give em a scare and a treat.’

‘Should I leave a nice note saying ‘please keep any and all banging prior to midnight’?’

‘I’d leave out the banging part, but that sounds like an amusing idea.’

Ashton left their conversation at that, figuring he could continue with his day.  Not that his day would consist of much, just attempting to write songs, and test out new recipes with his niece that she always ultimately hated, but it was worth a try.  She decided they should go for a walk around their neighbourhood in the afternoon, and after some contemplation he agreed.  He never ended up going for a walk the other day like he had meant to.

The sun was warm on their skin as they walked, and his nose picked up the faint smell of apples, making him smile.  He thought of his Words with Friends friend, hoping their baking was going well too if they had decided to bake a treat for their new neighbour. 

Ashton hadn’t realized how long he and his niece had been gone until his phone buzzed with a new notification from his RING app, alerting of someone at the door as well as making him aware of the time.  Wasn’t uncommon, he was waiting on a couple packages - but when he opened the app, he saw someone set something down on his doorstep before walking away.  They didn’t appear to be dressed in any type of mail carrier uniform, and Ashton grew a bit distressed by the idea of a foreign item being left on his doorstep.

In an attempt not to worry his niece, he didn’t voice his concerns, instead voicing they should head back.  It wasn’t much of a ways away, them already on their way back - but when they arrived Ashton saw a small red tupperware container sitting there with a note on top.

“What’s that?” His niece asked, leaning down to pick up the note - a smirk spread across her lips, eyes flickering towards Ashton, “Seems like your neighbour doesn’t appreciate your late night drum covers,” she spoke, handing him the note.

Reading over the note, Ashton made the connection almost instantly, his heart racing.  

“What’s wrong? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

“That person that’s been annihilating me in Words with Friends, apparently they are our neighbour.  We were talking earlier and they mentioned making cookies for their neighbour since they’d just moved to the area.”

His niece nodded, a knowing smile on her lips, “Seems like you guys talk about more than just what is basically Scrabble.”

Swatting at her arm gently, he shooed her inside, picking up the container and opening it - he realized then that the smell of apples that had invaded his senses earlier was them, and it made his heart warm at the thought they were so close.

Taking out his phone, he snapped a quick picture of the container to send to them, simply adding a ‘Thanks for the cookies, I’ll try and keep it down.’ Below it before tucking his phone into his pocket to enjoy one of the cookies they had made.

That’s one way to socially distance meet new people, he supposed.

tag list: @haikucal​ @talkfastromance4​ @softbabiestan​ @boyfriend-cal​ @calum-uncrowned​ @wildflowerirwin​ @irwindoll​ @gosh-im-short​ @atlcalm​ @thesubtweeter​ @heavenisapeach​ @ridingcthood​ @loveroflrh​ @wokeupinjapanisabop​ @mantlereid​ @inlovehoodx​

[knives-out20]

Mistake -  Bobby & The Buddies

Fandom: Once Upon A Time In Hollywood (2019)

Pairings: Bobby Brightside (OC) x Cliff Booth, StarBeep, DeepSpace, Platonic!Geep,

Warnings: Swearing, Faggotry, Probably sad, The end is here, Unrealistic timeskipping because Cliff hasn’t physically changed much,

Notes: Finally, the KISS & The Buddies crossover finale is here! We can get back to normal form hereon after, woo! There may or may not be minor references to this series in future Clobby oneshots, but overall, this is it. Ramon Valdovinos is my newest OUATIC OC; faceclaimed by young Benicio Del Toro, he’s The Buddies’ manager. Enjoy!

Bobby poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue as he, Cliff, and the Buddies looked up at the tall members of KISS. 

For what was probably the last time- ever, or for now, was beyond him. He didn’t wanna think about it.

As long as no one insinuated the first idea (ever) to Beep and Deep, he ought to be fine. 

Bobby felt Cliff put his hand on his shoulder, the man’s touch alone helping him through whatever life was. He looked up at Starchild. “So...this is it, huh?” Bobby rhetorically asked.

Starchild tilted his head from side to side. “For the most part. With our diverging schedules and plans for our bands, we can’t take your band on tour with us. And you can’t take us with you. Besides, you weren’t gonna be our openers forever. The Buddies were bound to get separate attention sooner or later.”

Maria nodded a bit. “Fun while it lasted, though. Didn’t think the seventies could’ve been any better if our bands hadn’t crossed paths.”

“We think so, too” Gene grunted. “That’s one thing we thanked Peter for, before...y’know...”

Maria hummed in understanding, rubbing Frankie’s back.

“You sure we can’t take you guys to Australia with us?” Eric Carr, the new drummer for KISS, spoke up.

Bobby scoffed. “Ramon thinks it’s best for us to start small and work our way up. Around California, then the USA, the continent, and make our way up to a world tour” he explained.

“We’re- We’re not, like, shaming you for jumping onto a world tour, though.” Frankie held his hand sup.

“Fuck knows you guys deserve it” Peep added, eyes shining despite their dark colour.

“Thank you” Starchild smiled.

Cliff had both his hands on Bobby’s shoulders, massaging gently. “Would it make sense to thank you guys for letting Bobby’s band open for you guys these past years...?” He asked. “They were decently popular before you guys, and I feel that you kinda pushed that forward to be even more-so.”

 Starchild nodded, “it kinda would- you’re welcome.”

Bobby glanced up at Cliff, hiding a smile behind Bobby’s brown hair.

Beep, Ace, and Deep had been quiet thus far. Which was new; Ace never shut up whether it be laughing or talking, and Beep ‘n’ Deep were usually the most talkative two in the band.

Beep had his hands behind his back, feet shuffling and shifting in dead silence.

Ace picked at his costume, occasionally patting down his hair and looking up at the ceiling.

Deep held his left upper arm with his right hand, eyes glued down to his beat-up shoes.

The two bands dispersed into their own groups, Beep and Deep separately standing by themselves.

Ace approached Deep, “hey.”

Deep glanced up at him. “Hey.”

Ace cooed softly, using a finger to tilt Deep’s head up. “It’s a wonder how I’m still somehow taller than ya, huh?”

“Man-” Deep swatted his hand away, fighting back a smile. “Shut up.”

Ace trailed his hand down to Deep’s left upper arm, thumb stroking the tattoo he had gotten years back. “I can’t sneak you into any of my luggage, can I?”

“Wish y’could. But I got a double-life here, with the comedy and the band.”

“Yea, I know. I’ll ring your line, though. Through calls and letters and whatever else I can do....a mail carrier pigeon?”

Deep snorted, “you’re unbelievable.”

“Like I haven’t heard you say that enough times already.”

Deep looked up at Ace, gulping.

The corner of Ace’s lips twitched up into a slight, sad grin. “I’ll miss you while we’re down ‘n’ out ‘n’ wherever.”

“I’ll miss you too...What’s gonna happen to us?”

Ace sucked his teeth, emotions unable to hide behind his ghostly-coloured makeup. “No clue, but we’ll manage. Can’t be that hard if we keep in contact like I said earlier.”

“I guess.”

Ace clenched his jaw, thinking of what to say next.

“Think your hair will grow back next time I see ya?”

He giggled, reaching a hand up to feel his now-shorter hair. “Hope so. I know how much you like it long so you could-”

“Ace.”

“I’m joking” Ace winked playfully. “We’ll see. Think you can get it that long?”

“Never in a million years!”

Ace laughed, clapping his hands together.

The only sight Deep could ever want to see, the only one he needed. His finger traced the tattoo on his arm, it was of 'Frehley Forever’ in Ace’s handwriting.

“I’ll see you in time for your birthday, though. In November?”

“Yea.”

“I’ll see you in November” Ace chirped in a sing-song voice, earning an airy chuckle from Deep. “If not, I’ll send some stuff back to ya, a few gifts, maybe. If we’re in Australia still, maybe a kangaroo.”

Deep laughed.

Ace smiled in adoration as he leaned in, softly kissing over the tattoo on Deep’s arm before kissing Deep’s lips themselves. “Love you, Derek.”

“Love you too.” Deep mumbled, his airy chuckle turning into a typical laugh when Ace did what he always did; ruffle Deep’s hair.

Starchild and Beep looked away from the two, and back at one another. 

Beep looked up at Starchild twitching. “Y’gonna miss my tics when you’re away?” He joked.

“More than anything” Starchild played along, Beep’s eyes trailing the outline of the black star around his eye. “I’ll miss you more, in and of itself. Shame you’re not short enough to fit in my jacket and come along with us, eh?”

Beep chortled. “First time I’m too tall for something, I’ll say.”

Starchild cupped Beep’s cheek, soft to the touch. “I’ll try keepin’ in touch. I won’t give up on us if you won’t. But as the Bobby of this band-” the two shared a giggle, “I’ll most likely be distant, literally. It’ll be busy.”

“I never could.” Beep assured him, hands interlocking with Starchild’s bigger ones and giving them quick squeezes. “See if Gene can send over free KISS merchandise” he sarcastically recommended.

“I’ll think about it” Starchild winked. He pulled Beep closer, fingers tracing down Beep’s neck. “I’ll be hot blooded f’you” Starchild referenced.

Beep felt his face flush, knowing what he was referencing.

“Check it and see?”

Beep kissed his teeth, dragging his tongue across his teeth. “I’ve got a fever of a hundred and three.”

Starchild grinned, bringing Beep’s hand up to kiss it, imprinting it with a red lipstick stain.

One Beep wishes he could keep forever. He gestured for Starchild to lean down, pulling him in to imprint the red lipstick over his own lips.

Peep slunk over to Gene, looking all the way up a him. “Gene.” She bowed.

Gene exhaled through his nose. “Peep.” He returned, bowing a bit.

“If you’re gone, who’s gonna protect me from secret serial killers?” Peep inquired.

Gene groaned, shaking his head. “I’m sure your brothers can manage” he shrugged.

“Benji and Derek? Wow, you sure have higher hopes for them, don’t’cha?”

“I don’t see in ‘em what Starchild and Ace see, but, yes.”

“Well, course you don’t. What Starchild and Ace see in ‘em is what you see in Dolly” Peep reminded, though it wasn’t something Gene needed reminding of.

“Y’got that right” Gene nodded. “That aside, you’re a strong lady, Penelope. You’re more than capable of takin’ care of yourself. Ain’t that right? I mean, you’re not so scared o’me anymore, right? That’s a feat.”

Peep lightly punched his arm. “Shut up” he giggled.

Gene smiled down at her, patting the top of her head. “If you’re ever really in so much trouble, I’m sure y’know how to get to me.”

“I do.” Peep smiled. 

Gene grinned. “Y’gonna miss this?” He asked, sticking out his horrifically long tongue.

Peep groaned in fake-disgust, turning away. “Gross, this is a question for Dolly, not me-”

Gene cackled, throwing his head back a bit.

Peep smiled proudly, hands on her hips. Making Gene laugh- or so much as smile- was a rare feat she had only seen Ace achieve thus far (”look! It’s rock and roll!”).

Bobby watched the Sweeneys converse with their government-assigned KISS members (as he liked to joke), gaze flickering to the floor in melancholy.

“You okay, babe?”

Bobby reached a hand up, carefully cupping Cliff’s cheek. He hummed in response. “I dunno when we’re gonna see ‘em again, mango. What if we never have time to hang out again? What if shit goes down and we have to stop hanging up with one of ‘em, or someone breaks up with someone else and it’s all weird?” He inquired. “I dunno, I just...as much as I liked the Buddies being independent, opening for ‘em as cool as hell.”

Cliff kissed Bobby’s palm. “Somethin’ tells me this isn’t the end, Bobby. They may not be your employers or technical-band-mates anymore, but they’re still your friends” he answered, kissing the top of Bobby’s head. “And we know a thing or two about friends, don’t we?”

“All sorts’a stuff.”

“Exactly. We know lots of the outcomes that this friendship with Gene, Peter- uh, Eric now, Paul, and Ace could come to. We’re ready for any of them anyways, amirite?”

“Right.” Bobby had the ghost of a smile on his face as he craned his head up to look at Cliff, though upside down. “God, you’re my religion.”

“Love you too” Cliff purred, kissing Bobby’s nose.

Backtracking to Deep and Ace, Ace’s hand in Deep’s hair. 

Deep glanced down at his watch, literally watching as each second with Ace slipped away. Each of Beep’s seconds with Starchild. Each of Peep’s seconds with Gene. “I just wanna stay here forever.”

“Y’do?” Ace arched a brow.

“‘Cause I know in the mornin’, you’ll be gone. And the morning after  that- rats, then the next ones after that.”

Ace gulped, pulling Deep in and tightly hugging him. “Bring it in, man.”

Deep wrapped his arms around Ace’s neck, a hand in his pitch black, but godly soft hair. “Ace?”

Ace pulled away from the hug, a hand cupping Deep’s cheek. Their noses were inches apart. “Yea?”

Deep glanced down at his tattoo. “Don’t make a mistake outta me, alright?”

Ace fought back a knowing grin, simply nodding. “Never on any planet, baby.”

Beep, meanwhile, bit the edge of his lip. “Starry?”

Starchild looked down at him, “mhm?”

Beep looked at the red lips on his hand. “Don’t make a- make a mistake out of me, alright? Out of, uh, us.”

Starchild’s eyebrows furrowed together a bit. “Y’know how I say I can see into the future, Benji?” 

Beep squinted, confused. “Yea-?”

“I can say for certain that I don’t see that happening.” Starchild chuckled.

Beep slowly smiled, feeling a twinge of relief. “I love you, Starry.”

“Yea, I love you too.”

Peep tilted his head. “Gene, y’better not make a mistake out of our friendship while you’re gone.”

Gene narrowed his eyes. “How could I-?”

“I dunno, but just don’t” Peep shrugged, rolling up an imaginary sleeve.

Gene scoffed, saluting her. “Aye-Aye, Penelope.”

Bobby smiled to himself, Cliff’s hand going up and under his shirt. “I’ll miss ‘em.”

“Yea, me too” Cliff agreed. “But this isn’t the end, remember?”

“Far from it.”