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#[ like yes he's a doctor BUT AT THE SAME TIME he can potentially hurt you should you lower your guard down around him ]

kneelingshadowsalome · 10 months

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Piggybacking off the last ask about Simon and Sarah from your Love Conquers War series, I have some questions.

FYI: The first one is a little silly/cute, the second is a bit more serious and deals with miscarriage and infertility, so feel free to ignore/not answer this if it’s uncomfortable or triggering for you, IRL.

First, you mentioned that Simon was cool with one kid, for now. I had an evil little thought of “wouldn’t it be hilarious if the universe conspires/planets align and they get pregnant with twins on the first the first try?” I think poor Simon would have a panic attack at first, but then get super excited and proud in that masculine way (if you know you know 😉)

On to my second question: once Simon and Sarah decide they’re ready for kids, what if things don’t go how they’d imagined it going?

how would each of them react to a miscarriage or potentially struggling to conceive?

There’s so much secrecy and stigma surrounding miscarriages (they happen way more than one might initially expect) and there’s so many misconceptions about how late in life one is able to get pregnant, the fact that doctors refer to mothers who get pregnant after age 35 (even though that age is based on centuries old data from French peasants 🙃) it’s not something I see many fics (I can literally count on one hand the number I’ve read, and it’s under 5) tackle or talk about.

Heyy! 🩷 Answer to this adorable (also a bit angsty) ask is below the cut:

I had an evil little thought of “wouldn’t it be hilarious if the universe conspires/planets align and they get pregnant with twins on the first the first try?” I think poor Simon would have a panic attack at first, but then get super excited and proud in that masculine way (if you know you know 😉)

Aaaaaah! That's such a cute evil little thought!! I'm telling you my cheeks hurt from smiling when I read this, you're a genius 💕

Simon would have a minor panic attack for sure. He would also try to hide just how much he's freaking out. He would grow pale at their first ultrasound and mutter to himself "How's this even possible…" And Sarah only looks at him with a huge, smug smile on her face. Like she would be the happiest! And also think to herself "serves the man right for stalling things so long". The nurse would congratulate them and Simon would grow paler still.

He would be silent during the trip home, and Sarah knows that Simon is actually scared of happiness, not responsibility. She would tease him about it, joke around a bit, then try to calm him... The conversation would go something like this:

Sa: "Isn't it nice to know you're fertile...?"

Si: "I'm fertile? You're the one who's fertile."

Sa: "Well, we're fertile. Isn't that nice?"

Si: "Yeah. Sure. We need a bigger apartment."

I think Simon would guide his frustrations and fears to material things. He would make sure everything is ready and set for the baby(/babies? hah). And then the realization sinks in and YES he would be so proud and hyped. He would also be nodding to himself, deeming it's quite practical that they have two babies at the same time. Pure soldier's realism!

On to my second question: once Simon and Sarah decide they’re ready for kids, what if things don’t go how they’d imagined it going? How would each of them react to a miscarriage or potentially struggling to conceive?

I think Sarah would read and study everything there is to know about… everything! From how to increase chances of getting pregnant to having a healthy pregnancy to good parenting. They would both be aware of the fact that trying to conceive in their thirties is not a walk in the park, and would mentally brace themselves for setbacks. Still, if such setbacks hit, I think Sarah would suffer the most. She's a bit of an overthinker and has a tendency to go down in the dumps.

And Simon would suffer when he sees Sarah is suffering. Of course he would mourn the unborn child too, especially if the miscarriage(s) were to happen after the first trimester. But Simon, I think, has more buffer to things going to shit, so he would simply be there for Sarah and help her get out of the slump. Simon would be the one who sparks the hope for trying again. And again. And again. Until they succeed. He would never give up once the decision to have a child is made. ️Fertility treatments and other methods of assisting pregnancy aren't off the table either. I don't think they would go as far as adopting, though. They want to have little Simons & Sarahs 🙄🩷

#answered #sarah & simon

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stuckasmain · 3 months

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What I will give the film is their portrayal of Starchild Dave, we don’t fully get his perspective or what’s going on. But what is seen lives in my head rent free.

The thing that particularly gets to me is the effort he takes in saying goodbye. He doesn’t quite understand why, why he has to, why he’s so upset over it but the time he takes is important. His eyes gleam occasionally on the TV screen, if you look closely they’re far too blue and shining.

“… please talk to me…”

His voice turns so soft, so pained. This need to communicate yet also realizing that he scares those he used to (still does) care about. Apart from his mother, who is overjoyed more than anything else. To her he is an angel.

Despite admittedly not knowing or being able to fully explain anything he goes through the great strain of appearing to Floyd. It’s clear he can’t keep a form, not fully, it hurts him in some way but he needs to do this. Potentially my favorite detail besides him constantly shifting is that his suit is just slightly off color… just off enough to be uncanny.

He has this distorted, confused voice and yet beneath the garble it’s so scared, excited and gentle. He’s trying to be nice but it so clearly hurts him that everyone is afraid of him. But it’s the fact that he goes through the extreme strain of making his voice clear— sounding as he had known him— to say goodbye. For just a few moments it’s not some ghost but David Bowman.

“I understand how you feel, you see, it’s all very clear to me now.” (It’s not)

“Goodbye doctor Floyd. We can have no further contact”

He extends this same effort to Hal when he speaks with him again right before the discovery meets his fate. He doesn’t have to, he could likely communicate with Hal without speaking at all- or having to focus his energy on his voice but he takes that time. “Yes Hal, you’ve done very well.”

I greatly prefer the ever shifting Dave to the dust cloud, it shows just how much care he is still filled with. Despite now being beyond flesh and bone Dave is so incredibly… human.

#‘damn girl this your third husband? anyway bye’#2010 the year we make contact #2010 tywmc #2001 a space odyssey #space odyssey series #dave bowman #David bowman #Starchild Dave #character study #scene study #2001 meta #2010 meta

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ideasvoid · 2 years

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hi!! is it okay if i ask for wraith, doctor, and shape meeting their s/o who has psychic powers? like the first time they meet their s/o just knocks or breaks their weapon with their mind idk sdfjsdf

Hello hun, absolutely. However as previously stated I do not write for the licensed characters as I feel do not know enough about them to properly convey their characters. But I can do the Wraith and Doctor for you certainly.

A warning for this particular story my loves, Herman Carter is… Herman Carter. And as such please proceed with caution if themes revolving around him such as the implication of torture or medical malpractice, make you uncomfortable. He will be below the cut.

The wraith - Philip Ojomo

Philip watched from a distance, pale eyes watching as you and the gruff one worked on a generator. He hadn’t seen you before, you were new. There had been whispers among the others about a new person around the campfire, that you were special, that you could do things the other ones couldn’t.

Philip wasn’t sure how he felt about such rumours. On one hand it was entirely plausible that they were true, stranger things had happened in the fog. On the other, the realms could at times be so mind numbingly monotonous that everyone - yes, even the killers - would cling to any semblance of something new, no matter how small or potentially untrue.

Still it wouldn’t hurt to have a look for himself, he reasoned. Stepping away from the crushed pile of cars, Philip swiftly moved towards you and raised the wailing bell high. The gruff one stood immediately, attempting to reach for you. Philip struck his shoulder harshly, the sound on bone and metal crushing together filled your ears as the man cried out in pain and decided on running. Philip turned to you, raising Azeroth’s skull high to strike you next - it stopped mere inches from your head. What?

Mud caked eyebrows knitted together, he strained against this… whatever it was. What was happening? Was the entity interfering? Why? You squirmed away quickly, running in the same direction as your teammate and leaving Philip to process what had just happened. He stared at his weapon, the event replaying in his mind over and over. The presence in his mind chittered as if amused, but assured him that she had nothing to do with it.

So they were right, this is what all the fuss was about. Well then, he could make this work.

The Doctor - Herman Carter

Static buzzed along his fingers as he held his hand up, releasing the electricity in a wide burst and listening for a reaction. The usual suspects it would seem- wait, what was that? He charged the energy again and disbursed it, this time in a specific direction. Ah, How delightful! Someone new!! Herman had gotten so very bored of these subjects, the same results over and over but now he had a new plaything. How gracious of his host.

Heavy footsteps on tile echoed through the halls of Lery’s as he made his way towards the scream. He was positively buzzing with excitement, this would be so very fun. He turned a corner, eyes immediately falling on the huddled form tucked not so discreetly behind a pillar. He laughed as he approached you, your eyes wild with confusion and fear.

All alone so quickly, how very unfortunate :)

Herman raised the punishing stick, sparks flying wildly as he swung it down. The doctor hissed through his teeth as the spiked weapon was knocked from his hand, clattering loudly against the cracked tile floors. White eyes shot back to you as he held his wrist in shock, well this was certainly a change of pace. Had his host stepped in? No, no… it wasn’t nearly so subtle. No, this had come from you.

How very exciting.

If it were possible, Herman’s smile would have widened. Psychic powers, he had seen them in others of his ilk but never from the patients. He wanted nothing else than to crack that pretty little head of yours open and see what made you tick, what anomaly made you capable of such things. Flexing his hand he stood tall again, his signature laugh bouncing off the walls. “Well aren’t you a special treat-”

Static surged and released into your brain, pulling a loud shriek from you. “I’ll be sure to pay extra attention to you.” You scrambled back, tripping over yourself as you began to flee. You could certainly try, it only made the process more difficult for you even if it was more enjoyable for him. The metal stick scrapped against the floor as he picked it up, knuckles turning white from his hold.

Herman loved his job. And you would be his absolute favourite patient.

#dbd imagines #dbd x reader #slasher fic #the wraith x reader #Philip Ojomo x reader #the doctor x reader #herman carter x reader #anon #Wren Writes

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brooklynislandgirl · 1 month

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💚 That Strange Doctor, Stephen

Imagine You and Me || Accepting

Oh, Nonny. Dunno if you're the same one, but do buckle in. This one promises to be extensive.

How do I love him? Let me count the ways. Aside from my first exposure to the Xmen, which got me into comics in the first place {one of my prized possessions is an in-plastic is Uncanny X-men #266. The first appearance of Gambit}. But being the person I have always been, it was magick that drew me in deeper and that's when I found, at the same time, both Stephen and Constantine.Yes, my two favourite wizards, by whatever name you wish to call them. Originally, I was so mad about Benny being cast, I almost boycotted the movie, but my gaming group decided to see it as a group and for a friend's birthday so I was obliged. I left the theatre in awe. He looked the part. He sounded the part. And for some hours {and years, clearly} later? I was a kid all over again, experiencing it like it was new. A wonder I haven't felt often in a long time. I also owe a dear friend of mine about a decade or so worth of apology because I didn't understand Benny's appeal...until his cheek bones cut the diamond of my wedding ring in half.

Prologue concluded, onto the show.

Matt's Stephen is absolutely perfect, even when he thinks he isn't. Upon us discussing plotting, I put forth the idea...which I had already sort of HC'd about 4 years give or take; that Beth *had* been at medical school to be a Neurosurgeon. That she'd gone to Columbia, and then dropped out during her residency {so technically she does have an MD, she's just not a doctor}, and I never stated why, but that this all happened around the time of Andy's 'death'. Which if we match up timelines, puts Stephen working at and lecturing for Columbia, around the time of the Chitauri invasion. Everything lined up for Beth being Stephen's student, and Matt ~gracious and generous to a fault~ agreed to let that be a case, giving them an almost instant rapport, as they would have by now known one another for years. And this is where everything becomes...complicated. Beth being who and what she is often needs time to even find someone attractive beyond whether or not they are aesthetically/artistically appealing. Check and check. She needs to bond with someone to feel the slightest bit motivated to want anything beyond friendly interaction and good heavens does that person have to be intelligent {the quickest way to a girl's heart is through her brain and/or empathy}. Again, check. She appreciates a wicked sense of humour, a compassionate or humanitarian soul, and it doesn't hurt when a person can keep up with her familial lifestyle, and her need to ditch it all for some time away from the cut-throat world of the .001% wealthy and ambitious. You can see where this is going. Stephen is, and was, literally the most perfect man on the planet. So why didn't...? Because she literally met him between the ages of 16-18, when he was already at least in his mid twenties, if not slightly older. She was also his student, and say what you like about Stephen, he isn't a predator. Yes he admired her brain. Was proud of her skill and her adaptability. Maybe even marvelled, pardon the pun, at how quickly she could pick up his wavelength, and be an extra set of hands and senses for him. The drive, the ambition, all of that maybe reminded him of himself. Stephen claimed her, when no one else would. But then she left him, without ever saying why. She sacrificed her life, her career, and any potential for the sake of not damaging his reputation, tarnishing his image, or being faced daily, hour by hour, second by second, the one person she couldn't love.

She really should have had a chat with him, is what I am saying. There is so much more I could say about this, that it could be broken into many parts of this length or longer, or go under a read more. I'm going to stop myself. In various verses, regardless of ships {respected and appreciated and loved even if the other mun doesn't know it} there really is no verse in which Beth doesn't love Stephen. As a friend, a mentor, as someone who believes in her when no one else would, with every ounce of soul she possesses. It doesn't matter the circumstance. Beautifully, tragically, I believe Stephen feels the same again, with respect and admiration, regardless of verse and romantic partner. {Some of the best ones are actually those in which say... Eddie and Beth are a couple, and Stephen is with Wanda or Sigyn and each is cheering the other on and sometimes giving unsolicited advice. Maybe especially these, like 15-Verse Stephen.} But yes. I stand by the "I love you, in every universe." {{?????/10 because I can't even}} {{I also blame Matt entirely}}

#Mahalo!Nonnymouse <333 #Tangleweave #Sphere Music|Stephen and Beth #The Flames that Burn|Dr Strange au

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greater-than-the-sword · 2 years

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Uh. The biggest Alex jones problem was that because he was denying Sandy Hook, his followers were actively harassing the parents of some of the kids that died. To a rather extreme point iirc

Part of being willing to participate in society is give up some of our rights (my right to be naked in my own house vs Walmart. My right to have hairspray at home vs the airport)

So it wasn't so much that he was saying nasty things, it's that he said things that caused people to then hurt others

A couple things.

It's claimed that he slandered the parents by calling them "actors", surely an upsetting charge, however people say upsetting things all the time about others. Now if he accused them of a crime or something, yes they can sue for slander/libel.

Now I'm not super studied in all the details of the court case, and probably none of us are because we weren't there, but they may potentially have a valid case for libel. BUT.

Even in MSM Jones' lawyers are quoted as saying this was blown out of proportion. As in, "I've been involved in more than 200 trials and never seen anything like this," one said, "there were no price tags or receipts to justify this amount of damages," that no actual metric was used to determine why hundreds of millions were owed (eg. in a libel suit normally these things are calculated by lost revenues due to slander, or property damage, some kind of therapist or doctor testifying about emotional toll, etc.) This was not done. The lawyers say it was as though it were a revenge quest to put Jones out of business and shut him up.

A really important point to me. Unless he said to them "hey go find those kids' parents and bother them" or something precisely to that effect, he can't be held responsible for some other unhinged person's actions. Is this how we want our legal system to be? Like twitter drama, where you have some kind of affirmative obligation to control your followers/fans and if you don't or can't, you're responsible for their insane behavior? Can you see how that will be abused? Not just against people like Jones, or Trump, but against anyone. All that has to happen is a person commits crimes in your name or says they were inspired by you, and bam, you're guilty of "incitement", even if you didn't actually say to them "do x", you just said something that sort of correlates with a worldview where a person might do x. And maybe in your worldview there are a million reasons not to do x, but your fan doesn't know that, so they go and do x.

Eg. If you and I live in the same house and I say to you, "I think our next door neighbor is a murderer!" and you go and kill him, that may be slander on my part, but even if it were knowing slander, it is not necessarily incitement because I have a strong belief that vigilantism is wrong, and it is also illegal to extrajudicially kill people, so it's an absurd logical leap to say that I intended, by saying this, for you to go and kill him.

More than that, this kind of logic is a dangerous tool of the state in finding ways to criminalize and convict people for the endorsement of any worldview they don't like. Simply: connect that worldview with some type of crime, find the crime, say that anyone who espouses the worldview incited the crime.

This could be used against ANYONE, not just conservatives. It could be used against liberals. Use your imagination, honestly.

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ronmanmob · 6 days

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SHIPPING INFO // Answer the following for your muse(s) so people know how shipping works on your blog.

REPOST. Don’t reblog.

What’s your OTP for your Muse(s)?

Towing the honesty line here and saying that every ship - no matter its nature - has something I flat adore about it; something unique and captivating and that makes me excited about writing and exploring it. Stacking them up and naming names or pairings just feels like a fast track to potential hurt feels and I'm not about that life. Each is my favourite version of itself.

What are you willing to RP when it comes to shipping?

Most anything, honestly. Any kind of relationship - platonic, romantic, familial, a complex mix of those appropriate for mixing or a more straightforward affair. All sorts of relationships fascinate me, and I'm happy to explore provided it's well plotted out and we - as muns - have chatted about yeses and nos and boundaries and all that good stuff.

How large does the age gap have to be to make it uncomfortable?

I won't ship with minors or write ships where Ron and a minor are even vaguely romantically inclined. Otherwise - provided we're writing about legal adults consenting to things/being in situations - I'm not overly bothered about it as a concept, however--

However.

I can promise you a 38 year old Ron, say, would whap an 18 year old interested person round the head and chuff 'em off home to their mum as soon as look at 'em. Just because it's write-about-able doesn't mean Ronnie'd be interested. Man's got his own wants and needs and I can flat swear someone 20 years his junior like that example there says cannot, CANNOT meet those.

Are you selective when shipping?

I need to have a good rapport with the other mun, certainly. We need to plot things out, test ideas, make worlds and if we can't do that, I can't get comfy enough to open my (hard as fucking nails but still) muse up to the kind of connections shipping (any kind) entails. Elsewise, of course, there must be chemistry between muses if we're talking romantic shipping.

How far do steamy moments have to go before they’re considered NSFW?

Friends I'll write everything from the beginnings 'til the ends of an intimate encounter, but I'll also always follow my writing partner's cues and comforts in that regard. I don't and won't write smut. More power to those that do, of course. It's just not my thing. But intimate scenes needn't be smutty and I'll write, like I say, all the detail my partner's happy with. We start mentioning parts and private zones, that's NSFW and it'll be tagged as such. Mine is, //Behind Closed Doors.

Who are other muses you ship your muse with?

I've been shipping with @hislittledxll since...2016? With @brooklynislandgirl for perhaps a sneeze less time? So they're my darlings and I don't know what I'd do without them. Other, newer shippy-loves are @vxctorx and @id1eyouth. A dear friendSHIP is had with @tabbyrp, likewise @corinnebaileyrp. Like I say, I'll consider ships of any kind with anyone.

They just need plotting :3

Does one have to ask to ship with you?,

Yes please. Scream at me about our muses in my DMs. Pounce on me on Discord. I'll do the exact same. Assuming shipping - any kind but romantic especially - will only get my (and Ron's) back up. He's an easy flirt, bless 'im, but there's A L O T of heck-fire and dagnabit this man's been through and dealing with and just...inviting oneself into his intimate circle...It won't work.

How often do you like to ship?

I do like it lots, definitely. I'm mulling over happy little motes of inspiration almost constantly. But it's not mandatory by any means. I'll write anything that interests me. So bring it in pals!

Are you multiship?

Yes, but every ship has its own verse. As was so wisely spoke in Ghostbusters by my hero Doctor Spengler - Don't. Cross. The. Streams.

Are you ship obsessed or ship more-or-less?

Ship more-or-less. There's more to life, more to writing, but gosh it's fun.

What is your favorite ship in your current fandom?

Other than the ones I've made up round the characters I write Ron with? XD I...don't really know I have a fandom specifically. Some pairings I've loved to see in recent media include Paul and Chani in Dune/Dune 2, and Lestat and Louis in Interview With The Vampire (it's so toxic...SO TOXIC, but so beautifully done).

Finally, how does one ship with you?

Legit, talk to me. I'm always either here or on Discord. We'll need to chat, plot, discuss boundaries and story arches and all and it'll be fascinating and awesome and I promise we're friendly, me and Ron. So just pop by. There's always a pot of tea on the boil and biccies out the draw to snack on while we natter.

Tagged by: I stole it off @brooklynislandgirl (gratefully, thank you darling)

Tagging: C'mon go play!

#//stuff and things about mun

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silverynight · 2 years

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Enemy

<---Previous

Chapter 7

During dinner, Nezuko seems to have the time of her life; it's been a while since Tanjirou has seen her so amused before and even though he's not sure what is all that about, he's just happy to see her smiling like that.

The others are not as happy as her, at least not with each other, but they seem very determined to get Tanjirou to spend time with them; he wonders if that's their way to make him feel welcome or it's just because it's part of their duty as members of the council. Either way, Tanjirou is very grateful.

"You have potential, my boy!" Rengoku comments again, leaning forward a bit to see him because Genya is very tall and he's the one sitting right next to Tanjirou (Nezuko is at the other side). "I think we should start training every day!"

"You must know hand to hand combat already, at least enough to defend yourself. So I don't think that should be your priority at the moment," Shinazugawa cuts in, glaring with irritation at the other councilman, before looking back at Tanjirou with a much more calm expression. "You should start training with weapons instead. I can help you with that."

Actually, both things seem like something Tanjirou may need eventually, especially if he plans to go back to Undercity to see how his friends are doing; he's about to say something about seeing them both at the same time when Tomioka catches his attention.

"I think the first thing you gotta do and I mean both you and your sister is to come to my lab tomorrow. Shinobu will be there too to run some tests if Nezuko allows us of course."

"You mean to find a cure?" Every other thought vanishes from Tanjirou's mind in order to focus on that. He knows he shouldn't look so hopeful (especially in front of Nezuko) because he's not sure if it's going to work or not, but he can't help it.

"We'll try," Tomioka mumbles. "Shinobu is the one who knows more about poisons and antidotes; I've been doing research on crystals but I'll try to help you as much as I can. If you agree to meet us tomorrow we can also call doctor Tamayo."

Tanjirou is more than ready to say "Yes" but he realizes that it's not his choice anymore; Nezuko is awake and she can speak for herself.

"What do you think?"

He can tell his sister is nervous; they don't know much about those people and they have spent most of their lives not trusting topsiders. However, if there's something the members of the council have proved them these couple of days is that they don't want to hurt them. Because Tanjirou knows they would've done that already.

"Let's start with the tests," Nezuko agrees, looking at Tomioka before taking Tanjirou's hand and intertwining their fingers together. "Will you be there with me?"

"Always, Nezuko," Tanjirou promises. He silently prays to any deity listening to help them find a cure soon.

***

"I think we'll have a little bit of time for ourselves before we head to Tomioka's lab," Tanjirou grins, making Nezuko turn her head towards him; she looks so much better now, less nervous.

That's when someone knocks at their door, prompting her to roll her eyes.

"I don't think we'll be able to have time for ourselves anymore," she chuckles. "They're too fascinated by you to leave you alone."

"Who?"

But when Tanjirou opens the door, he notices that Himejima is at the other side.

"Oh! Good morning, Himejima-san!" He mumbles, pulling him gently inside the house.

"Tanjirou, Nezuko," he nods and lets Tanjirou lead him towards the couch. "I just wanted to know how are you doing. Can I do anything for you?"

Tanjirou assures him they're alright, but thanks him profusely for worrying about them, he offers him something to eat, but the tall councilman assures him he had breakfast already.

"Tanjirou... Can I touch your face?" Himejima asks almost shyly, making Tanjirou feel a little bit timid as well. "I would like to know how you look like."

"Yes, of course!" Tanjirou says, cheeks turning slightly pink right after saying that. He sits right next to the hashira and gently takes one of his huge hands towards his face.

It's weird at first; he still remembers the man that tried to choke him, he was big as well, although not as tall as the Pillar in front of him. However, despite the strength he can notice in every one of Himejima's movements, he's very gentle when he finally cradles Tanjirou's face in his hands.

Tanjirou feels tiny and vulnerable for a moment, before looking up at Himejima. He notices the smile pulling the corners of the hashira's lips up as the tip of his fingers run delicately over Tanjirou's skin.

"You must be really beautiful, Tanjirou," he says sincerely, making the boy turn more red at his words. "You probably have the kind of beauty that takes people's breath away."

Tanjirou chuckles at that, he's flustered but amused as well because Himejima is completely wrong and even though he doesn't like to contradict people, he needs to tell him that's not actually true.

"Himejima-san..."

"You're right," Nezuko cuts him off, clearly talking to the Pillar. "He's breathtaking, pretty and cute, but he has no idea. He probably still doesn't believe it, no matter how many times I tell him."

"Nezuko, you're the pretty one..."

"Did you hear that, Himejima-san?" She chuckles.

"I understand a couple of things now," Himejima says, smiling gently before stroking Tanjirou's cheeks with his big thumbs. "Maybe he needs someone to tell him every single day that he is beautiful until he finally believes it. Tanjirou, you are beautiful."

He feels his face like it's burning at the same time Nezuko chuckles again.

"Someone to tell him every day for the rest of his life?" She says, completely amused.

"You got me there, clever girl," Himejima replies, confusing Tanjirou for a moment. "Of course... You did say you weren't going to make it easy for us..."

"That's right! But you know what? I really like you, Himejima-san."

"I'm glad to hear that." Before Tanjirou can ask what's going on, Himejima turns his head towards him again: "This is where that person hurt you, right?"

This time, Tanjirou doesn't even flinch at the feeling of fingers on his throat; Himejima is very gentle, he makes him feel like he's safe.

"Yes."

"Will you ever tell us who was it?"

"Maybe someday," he mumbles, trying not to be ungrateful, however, he's still not sure how they'd react to him telling them he escaped to the Undercity while he was under Shinazugawa's protection.

"It's alright, Tanjirou," Himejima whispers, leaning closer to him. "We just want to make sure no one hurts you again."

"I know," he mumbles, even though he doesn't quite understand yet why they worry so much about him.

***

Next--->

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#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #arcane au #demon slayer #tanjiro kamado #nezuko kamado #kyojuro rengoku #gyomei himejima #giyu tomioka #genya shinazugawa #sanemi shinazugawa

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pixelchills · 2 years

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Question you probably didn’t intend me to have but I do; If the people who basically manufacture the creatures know they’re being sent to places where they have to work with people, especially kids, why make the go to punishment what looks to be a seizure? It seems counterintuitive since seizures can easily damage what they view as property. Which I suppose is the equivalent of hitting a TV when it’s malfunctioning in their eyes, but what about Sun and Moon specifically? They work with kids, kids don’t know you shouldn’t try to touch someone having a seizure wether it’s an on purpose one or not, and they could easy be hurt/hurt them. Moon even demonstrates that with someone who was on much more equal footing.

wouldn’t it make more sense that between the carrot and the stick the carrot would be more efficient? No need to almost kill the thing you sunk millions of dollars into and it starts life on what is repeatedly described to taste like cardboard, so they could probably better instill understanding of consequences for their actions by changing their meals, or maybe an enrichment room? There’s also less liability on the company that makes them if they find some sort of ‘defect’.

Yes Solar was supposedly ruined this way and maybe I read the scene wrong but Solar doesn’t actually seem…malicious? At least not to Sun, which makes sense since he knows exactly what Sun is walking into. His initial reaction sounded more…Interested? Curious? I wouldn’t say happy but the words he specifically chose don’t have connotations like you would expect from someone who wants you dead. They sound more like pity. From my best guess Solar is obviously a bit neurotic but more so from being punished than being loved. The doctor even says that prior to leaving he was silly, sweet, generally a good boy.

Basically the people who make them are kind of just…weirdly eager to use their seizure buttons? I don’t know. I think the only think that would be less effective is like…a flamethrower or gun or something.

Hmm okay, that's a long question but I try to answer the best as I can.

Okay, so the reason why I sort of chose the humans to use this sort of punishment/way to control the Animutants came solely from the whole idea of "controlled shocks" given the animatronics in Sister Location and Pizzeria Simulator. I'll try to explain the possible reasonings the humans in the Animutant universe have for using such a device:

Animutants are smart, Level 3 mutants have the same understanding and sentience as an average adult human (and amongst them, others obviously are smarter than others, depending on the life and circumstances they've been living-). So since humans created such an understanding and clever life-form, that they could use for their own gain, they also became kind of aware of the potential risks of Animutants trying to ruin or overtake humanity:

Animutants are not only smart but often physically strong; they don't really get ill and are often taller and stronger than average human beings. So, to control a possible overtake, and keep them under submission and obedience, they use the seizure type of torture from the microchip that connects to their nervous system.

Unfortunately, humanity has always been cruel to those they want to have power and control over, and Animutants as the new life form in the system are not any different. Maybe if the years go by, they would gain more rights and eventually be able to live alongside humans, but the time where the story is set is not that time.

Of course, the whole thing comes to an issue, as you mentioned, especially with Animutants that work with children: as we have seen with Sunrise, who accidentally tried to leave the Daycare at some point only to have a seizure in front of the children who then probably got traumatised. For situations like this, there are always human workers at the Daycare security desk during the opening hours. If a child would've tried to approach Sunrise while he was going through the seizures, a worker would've stopped it.

The companies obviously try to hide this cruelty from the little humans of course. Sunrise was severely punished afterwards for making the mess (that wasn't even his fault), to make sure he would not do it again.

The carrot or stick treatment would obviously work, as seen with other animals and children, but the fear of working with something smart and still somewhat unknown has people on the edge, I believe. And Solar has been a somewhat of an example of this:

Animutants are constantly reminded that they are less than humans, and it's a rule and a fact that they need to accept and live with. But because Solar was made to be loud, independent and spontaneous, and he was treated at the level of a human being by Dr Weston, he grew to the understanding that humans had been afraid of:

"I am as good as humans, but I live longer, and I don't get sick, thus I am the ultimate life form, which means I am better than humans."

Which caused him to get himself into a lot of trouble after he started working in the Daycare.

I think, however, that the microchips/physical torture the Animutants go through when disobeying have been designed in such a way that it doesn't really affect their system in a long run.

Solar's whole story will be looked over at some point a bit better, but I can guarantee you that he didn't go 'crazy' because he was punished so often. A reminder that the Level 3 Animutants still have feelings, trauma, and understanding of things just like humans do, and sometimes something so mentally traumatising happens that just makes you go unhinged for the rest of your life (especially if you don't get help for it. I don't think there is therapy for Animutants out there).

And yes, you're correct, Solar isn't malicious, and he clearly had a kind of family-type relationship already forming with Sunrise. He is just mentally unwell and doesn't give a sh*t, which was something new to Sun at that point (and as we have learned about Sun's character, he is often nervous and scared in new situations).

I hope this answered your question(s) at least somewhat efficiently. My brain keeps going in the wrong direction so please send another ask if you want something answered a bit better;v; didn't want to spoil too much about Solar here since we'll have a brief look at his past at the beginning of the next chapter.

#asks #solar #a not so sunny world #animutants

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sarah-dipitous · 8 months

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Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 247

The Vessel/Before the Flood

“The Vessel”

Plot Description: Unaware that Lucifer is pulling the strings, the Winchesters have Castiel send Dean back in time to a doomed WWII submarine to retrieve a Hand of God

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes: by virtue of not being one of the Winchesters and not being born til the 80s, yes…sort of…can you survive something you weren’t yet around for? (Also, now having actually WATCHED it, by not being a literal nazi, I’m safe from that French woman’s wrath)

Not the brief view of a rendering of the ark of the covenant. I wish Dean had seen it…he’d mention Indiana Jones

Omg…even with what I know about the plot, when we returned to hell’s throne room, I expected Crowley 😭

Oh…oh, Crowley. I mean, if I were Lucifer I would also be making an example of him like this, sure, but it does hurt to see him chained and caged up like this

(Oh no…I had looked away for a SECOND when Sam said this

And my attention snapped back SO QUICKLY. I’m so mad at what my brain has become in the past week)

You know, I was gonna scold Sam for chastising Dean for drinking beer at noon because, like, you’re out of coffee and it’s your fault, Sam. But then Dean was like “what do you want me to drink? Water?” And….that wouldn’t be the worst idea, Dean

I’m glad Crowley has yet to be COMPLETELY broken

Dean ALWAYS gets the “fun” field trips. Sam MIGHT come along sometimes but Dean always goes

The way Lucifer’s just making shit up and Dean’s just eating it up because it’s coming out of Cas’s mouth

Sopping wet Misha is adorable. Lucifer did not make it onto the submarine and brought so much ocean water back into the bunker

I think Sam’s gonna figure out Cas ain’t Cas soon-ish. He’ll do it before Dean does…

And Dean always gets to wear the fun little outfits. He’s dressed in a lil sailor uniform

This guy quizzing Dean on the later half of the 1940s is so annoying. Let Dean find out there’s no angel warding and Lucifer just left him there (I’m really hoping that’s what happened. That would be so much more interesting than angel warding on the hull)

Luci’s getting so sloppy in his quest for power. A spell needs the power of an archangel so “we might as well try”?! Castiel would NEVER put himself on the level of the archangels (we know he went straight to trying to be god)…but even when he tried to play god he didn’t do it as just base level Cas

Why are you so oblivious, Sam?

Omg omg omg Sam stopppppp don’t do thisssss. Don’t let Lucifer touch your soul. LET. HIM. COOK. But don’t let him near your actual soul

No, Luci, because SAME. I’m also laughing at how terribly and awfully earnest Sam’s being right now and just…fuck. Come on.

I had too much faith in Sam. Lucifer had to really spell it out for him

Ooooooo Cas is fighting back!! YES, BABES!!

Girl, what are you DOING??

SERIOUSLY?! Delphine used up all the juice the hand of god had in it?? I mean, sure, we shouldn’t let Lucifer use it for his evil bidding, but whyyyy

The way the answer to “do you wanna talk about it?” with them is ALWAYS no

“Before the Flood”

Plot Description: a fearsome alien warlord sets in motion a twisted plan to ensure his own survival

Was he so bothered by being called a magician (something he called himself, if I’m not mistaken) that he had to go get an electric guitar about it? It’s just a weird turn he’s taken. He also allegedly made himself Beethoven…

How…how is this not a “potential future”? How is this just the future where he actually dies?

The way Clara is always getting screwed over by her time with the Doctor. She’s now thought he’s had to die TWICE. Not “it’s possible,” she thought Eleven’s regeneration was the last one and now this….on top of losing Danny

How can he not want to break the rules when it comes to his own morality but interacting with his own ghost??

My guy, if you really wanted to beat the magician allegations, get rid of the red silk lining of your jacket

Ah, fuck…ghost Doctor was giving a list of the death order for this crew (plus Clara, but since Clara’s next, she’s not gonna die)

Hahahahaha, you’re really locked on this day. Fantastic. Now there’s two of you here, what’s gonna happen?

………are we back to the great intelligence?? That voice is kinda familiar

Maybe not. But it IS a horrifying monster of an alien

I THOUGHT YOU TWO WERE GONNA STICK TOGETHER. Dammit…

These could have been such interesting episodes if it weren’t for the alien warlord causing it…

There really could have been——what in the heteronormativity? Why was everyone on this crew in love with each other? And specifically two m/f pairings…why did we throw both of those in at the end??

(Maisie Williams in the next episode??)

#hellsite nostalgia tour 2023

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i-love-you-all · 2 years

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Whumptober Day 1: A Little Out of the Ordinary

If you weren’t w me last year, this is my first story for Whumptober 2022! Everyday I’ll be positing a short fanfic relating to the prompts of this event. Most stories will stay as they are, but I’ll also be posting them on AO3 as well, and some of the days that I like might get turned into longer fics (like Memory Lost and Found). Please keep in mind that any potential triggers/warnings will be found right before the story or in the tags!

This is a Viper/Omen story pre VP era when they were both just brilliant scientists.

~2k words Viper/Omen, medical experimentation

There was a silence in the room. Then, a single hand raised up.

Sabine had a million nightmares before today, and this was just one more. When they were dismissed from the meeting, she rushed to Fredrick’s side as they walked down the hall to have a chance to talk to him before the team would rush him at his lab. This would be her one time to talk to him before he had to do whatever it was that this project was attempting. She still didn’t quite understand what they were asking for. Volunteers for what? Radianite as far as they knew it was a trace substance with the potential for high volumes of energy. She heard snippets from Fred that they may have traced its existence on ancient pieces of human history, even if it went undiscovered until just recently. But what was this about integration into the human genome?

“You can’t be serious,” she whispered when she finally got a hold of him by his sleeve and dragged him into her lab. No one had even entered the same room as this substance without all the protective gear they could feasibly put on one person. When the effects were this unknown, Fred just signed up for a death wish.

But this was Fred. He was kind, intelligent, and sometimes too charismatic for his own good. So, of course, he didn’t see the issue.

“Why can’t I be? I’ve worked with this stuff longer than anyone else. I know the most about it. No one else is better trained on radianite than I am.”

She shook her head. “And what if something goes wrong? This is dangerous, you could get hurt, you could—”

“Then it’s good that I have the best doctor looking after me, yes?” He brushed some of her bangs to the side so he could stroke her cheek. “And she just happens to be so stunning and takes my breath away, and—”

“Fred, if I really took your breath away, you wouldn’t be saying all these useless things.”

He laughed despite Sabine’s frown.

“Sabine, I understand the dosages and the risks. I know what we expect to happen, and I know what the margins are. I believe in the project. Will you believe in me?”

There was that charisma that she both loved and hated. It was what drew her to him in the first place. The brilliant scientist trying to tempt the equally brilliant doctor with sweet words was not a trope she was expecting, but it was what she eventually fell for. She looked up at him and his puppy dog eyes and sighed. He held her hands in his and leaned in to press his lips to her cheek.

“Darling, what’s the worst that can happen? I end up in a hospital bed? Having you as my personal nurse for a few weeks? I’ll do my best to be careful. I just need your support.”

Sabine really had no choice but to sigh and nod her head.

“Ok. You can go do this. Just promise me – promise me, that you’ll be safe. You’ll make it out alive.”

“Of course. I know I have to live. As long as I do that, you can fix anything else.”

They shared one last kiss, then he snuck out the back to regroup with the new team on the project.

What’s the worst that can happen? A lot of things. Fred didn’t go back home with her, and even as she tried to sleep on her side of the bed, just in case he came home late, the image of the empty side of her bed prevented her eyes from closing. What was he doing right now? Did they already start the trials? Who authorized something like this? Were they maybe just doing more complicated calculations that he would review with her tomorrow to give her brain something to look through? No, that last one was wishful thinking. Sabine curled up a little tighter around her bedsheets and, eventually, a restless sleep came over her. She was relieved to wake up.

She used to dismiss superstitions. They were often associated with wild theories or personal beliefs, nothing that she had any use for. But today, the very air around his lab was hazy. It was all in her head. She kept repeating that to herself, even if she didn’t believe it. The steps up to his lab felt arduous and she almost turned around a few times. Fred was… Ok. He looked tired, but when she walked through the door, he smiled wide and held his arms out for a hug. Sabine made sure to lock the door before she walked in. His hold around her was comforting as she sat on his lap.

“Long night?”

His voice was muffled from how his head was buried in the crook of her neck. “Not a single minute of sleep.”

She let her fingers run through his soft, fluffy hair. “Should I get you coffee?”

“If you have time this morning.”

She herself had hundreds of tasks to get through today. However, one look at him and she decided she could add one more.

“I’ll be right back.”

The fact that he was up all the time was just the beginning. Even when they went to bed together, she could feel him shifting around all night. During the day, it was like a shadow clung onto him. His smiles were smaller, his words a little quieter. He was still himself, just muted. And she hated it. She watched the man she loved change from the person she recognized, to some ghost that did all the things she remembered Fred doing, but with none of the gusto of a man who loved his life. But she wasn’t about to tell him otherwise because Fred would let her know when he’s had enough of this project. So, until he said so, she kept quiet.

One night, as he crawled into bed with him, he wrapped himself around her, tighter than he ever had before.

“Everything ok?” She managed to whisper.

“I can start to feel the side effects.” The whisper was strained, almost like it was said through gritted teeth. “It’s starting to hurt. Like it’s pulling me apart.”

“Do… Do you think you should request to stop?”

“No, no... I’m so close to the end, Sabine.” He was speaking through his teeth, afraid of what horrible sound of pain would escape his lips if he relaxed even a little. “Just a little longer, I promise. Then everything will slowly go back to normal.”

It’s funny how things slowly get back to normal but quickly fall apart.

It happened when she was pouring over the latest medical papers in her lab. A new experimental super antibiotic with promise going through mouse trials. Genetic modification that augmented DNA in primate trials. A new effect observed in workers at Radianite factories. That one caught her eye. An observational study that concluded that there was a higher percentage of mania amongst workers at a Radianite factory than the general population. They felt like they were being ripped apart, despite no physiological abnormalities. These people spent years working at the factory before the symptoms began. Fred went from normal to the exact same symptoms listed here in two weeks. The consequences of such a drastic change did not settle easily in her mind.

Just as she reached for her phone, the lights flickered and went out. As she turned on the flashlight she saw shadows, not of her desk or herself, but long, claw-like shadows that dispersed to reveal a face. A face she hoped to be a stranger. And yet in that look, she saw love.

It was just moments later when she burst through the double doors into the Radianite lab in a panic. Her hair was a mess, and she was out of breath, doubled over trying to recompose herself.

There were a dozen guards in there, all with their guns raised at something in the middle. She had to blink her eyes hard because her eyes couldn’t see clearly in the dim thrumming of the emergency lights. They made it hard to make out the shape of whatever was just standing at the end of all those guns. A living shadow she eventually figured out. It looked like a man, but there was no visible shape. Formless, but just for a moment because she saw it form one. It looked around at everyone and seemed to try and copy them. That was when they noticed her as well.

“Doctor, you shouldn’t be here.” It was the captain of the guard here. They talked on occasion. He liked to listen to her explain the newest medical news and she liked an audience. It helped her straighten out her thoughts. Fred was jealous on occasion, and he always made sure to dote on her with what little time he had to make up for it, even if he knew that she would have eyes for no one else. He didn’t like the fact that he wasn’t there enough, despite all the pressures of their jobs.

He cleared a patch for her, but she could only stand there and stare at the one in the middle. The more she looked, the worse she felt. Because where was Fred in all of this? Even amongst all the scientists she passed, there was no lovely face lighting up as she passed. There were no golden-brown eyes that reminded her of afternoon sunlight dappled across his face. And she was smart enough to deduce her worst fear.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

She heard the crackling words from a speaker somewhere above her. Grief, horror, whatever it was welling up in her unleashed itself in an inhuman sound screaming a single name. Fred.

“What did you do to him?” Her voice was quiet, a contrast to the inhuman noise she had just made. No one had seen Dr. Callas like this before. But no one, not even the captain moved close to her again. Her words dripped with too much venom. Her green eyes darted around, looking for someone to blame, someone to accuse. It burned at any who dared look at her directly.

There was no answer. And she knew that when this was all… cleaned up, this would be written off as an unforeseen consequence. An accident. An adverse effect. She saw it in the medical reports of other experiments. It would be the same here. A single tear rolled down her cheek. The guards around her backed off. Was the one tear that powerful? Did it properly convey her despair? Then she looked up and saw what other people were backing up from.

The creature – no… this was Fred. He walked up to her, and she reached up for him. He flinched at first, then let her fingers pass through him. There was nothing to hold, nothing to squeeze. No way to make him understand how much she needed him now. In turn, as she watched her fingers pass through his biceps, his chest, he tried to hold her cheek and use his thumb to wipe the tear away. She could feel the slightest stirring of the air against her face. If she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to imagine the man, not the shadow, she could almost smell his cologne.

“Who are you?”

Her eyes flew open again. Her hand reached for his and once again passed straight though. But she had no answer. Still, he waited.

“Fred. Is that my name?”

She was frozen, just staring into the wisps of blue fire. Where did his eyes go? His smile? That charisma?

The silence was getting heavier.

Eventually, she gave a shaky laugh. “No… Fred was someone else. I don’t know you.”

#whumptober 2022 #no.1 #adverse effects #this wasn't supposed to happen #valorant #valorant fanfic #medical experimentation #valorant viper #viper #valorant omen #omen #viper/omen #my writing

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malfattore · 1 year

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KNOWING YOUR PARTNER WELL CAN POTENTIALLY MAKE WRITING TOGETHER A LOT EASIER. ( REPOST DO NOT REBLOG ! )

○ NAME: Erin // Xy.

○ PRONOUNS: he/him

○ PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION: Discord or Tumblr, either or is completely fine. I reply to both the same, tho im slow.

○ NAME OF MUSE(S): Malfatto, William de Saint-Prix, Nightstalker Joe, wow i’m really going down the basic names now, I roleplayed artorias and pate from dks but not anymore. I also muse Verulo and a small amount of Illario from acb but on the side, and more so Verulo. He’s a bit of an older muse that I did nothing with besides throw comments in for (still do, since im not sure who he fits with)

○ EXPERIENCE/HOW LONG (MONTHS/YEARS?): 10 years, off and on? Could be more tbh I’ve lost count I feel old

○ PLATFORMS YOU’VE USED: for rp, I mostly use Discord but Tumblr is nice too, when it’s functional lol

○ BEST EXPERIENCE: In General? Musing with people and creating a deep and expansive world around what little canon information we even received from Ubisoft — as well as Personal, @ardentfew @larosafatale @templarlanz @officialcahin (also w/ ur bitch ass (affectionately) baltasar) you guys have added so much to my musings and experiences to define Mal as he continues to age as my oldest muse at like 10 years now? I genuinely appreciate it wholeheartedly. These are probably my best experiences over this whole blog’s lifespan. Also I have to throw in @vilestblood, you always made me feel so welcome and appreciated as a newcomer, it really did make the whole experience for me, and while i’m over here for now, I hope you know how often i still appreciate you. I hope I can repay all of you somehow.

○ RP PET PEEVES / DEALBREAKERS: Treating my muse(s) like he’s either a sex object/disrespecting my boundaries on his sexuality, a Villain to exclusively to fit your narrative/headcanons, or automatically assuming I condone the actions of my muse just bc I am expanding on his emotions or more positive traits. as well as just seeing him as a shipping objective — Besides the fact that I am not interested in shipping Malfatto out as he is single-ship to one character and i’m more interested in defining his friendships than another spouse.

○ FLUFF, ANGST, OR SMUT: I’m a whore for angst but i’m more of a hurt-comfort kind of guy tbh, I don’t mind the pain of loss and complete defeat and hopelessness, i adore depressing themes but I do want a comforting concept to end off on. I love fluff within plot and smut is the same, I don’t particularly want just baseless smut for the sake of smut (tho it can be interesting sometimes) but if it fits well, it legit makes my heart skip djdjjhdj

○ PLOTS OR MEMES: I love memes on tumblr so much, esp as an icebreaker, but I love plotting things out more extensively so I can learn more about your characters and where they can interact more personally.

○ LONG OR SHORT REPLIES: Both but I prefer longer if the short we are talking about is like one liners. Unless we are in a very fast paced setting like discord chat, one liners make me lose muse pretty quick.

○ BEST TIME TO WRITE: Anytime I can get some quiet, I admittedly cannot write in a noisy setting. My brain is too panicked with stuff going on that I can’t zone in.

○ ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S): I always joke around and say that he’s the kinnie so Honestly, yes? it sounds awful to relate to the serial killing doctor, who also tortures random civilians, guards, and sex workers BUT that aside, I understand his impulsivity and I understand his traumas, at least on a semi-adjacent level. We like similar things and find comfort in the same settings, though i did not expect to build him like this. I’m enough like him that I can somewhat? understand where he is coming from mentally when he does stupid impulsive shit that eventually gets his dumbass floored while also being very aware that his reactions and opinions are not something I would even consider. He’s fun he’s like the little devil on my shoulder telling me to act on impulse and commit arson when i have anxiety even over looking like i’m shoplifting

TAGGED BY: No-one. I stole this from general tags.

TAGGING: @larosafatale @ardentfew yea idk who else is active anymore, steal it

#✠ insight — memes ;;

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mdccanon · 2 years

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Post #1: Amber's Idea of Photo Evidence

I want to thank the literally ONLY Amber Supporter to make a response! All the responses will be broken up so that the conversation of each individual topic can be better understood. Any questions I ask that are similar to others will be in the same post.

The first post features my criticism of Amber Heard for lying to her expert witness psychiatrist with pictures she took meant to make Johnny look like he was on drugs at a time he was struggling with sobriety, but in every photo, upon cross-examination with Johnny's lawyer Camille, Amber had to admit that none of the pictures actually showed the information she told her psychiatrist witness, meaning the doctor was forming his conclusions with incorrect information meant to make him have an unfavorable bias against Johnny.

To me, this is the action of an abuser and not an abuse victim.

Amber supporter @recognize-abuse say its wrong for the quality of Amber's evidence to be scrutinized, regardless of if she is the abuser or the abusee because society should not have expectations on how much or how damning of evidence a person has when they make an accusation. The mind is too traumatic to make such logical decisions in a hostile living situation.

Much of my rebuttal is pointing out that Amber is literally lying about her evidence and so, by damning her own character, it becomes more difficult to believe that if she could take pictures that can't prove her accusations and didn't take pictures that could prove her accusations, it becomes more difficult to believe her narration. Also, the legal system requires scrutiny of evidence to function.

Full Discussion below:

Me: If Johnny has cut Amber more times than he has even punched her, then why doesn't she have an photo evidence of that? Why did she take a photo of Johnny sleeping on the floor as evidence that he passed out after cutting her in a drug-fueled rage and when Camille asked why she didn't take a picture of the actual puncture wound, all Amber could do was stare blankly and say that didn't occur to her...

recognize-abuse 1) This is what we mean when we say the scrutiny AH gets is a reflection of how society expects a perfect victim. It's not easy to figure out the perfect response when you're actively going through trauma. It's not hard to believe that something that seems obvious as a neutral third party is something that didn't occur to a potential victim. Its the same as how SA victims are criticized for freezing (not screaming out or fighting back). Our bodies and brains are not primed to operate normally during a traumatic event. This is important because (and I must sound like a broken record here) scrutinizing this kind of thing hurts all survivors and victims even if Amber Heard is an abuser. Criticizing documentation, how good it is, how bad it is, if there's too little, if there's too much, is a huge problem. Yes of course you need evidence, but when it comes to the documentation the victim has, it will never be perfect.

Me: Actually, no, it’s not unfair to question this, because this isn’t about what “society thinks” it is about what two lawyers asked Amber to testify to and the civil right that both Johnny and Amber have to build narratives supporting the evidence they have. That’s how court works.

Amber, with her lawyer Elaine, painted a narrative that she took pictures of Johnny sleeping as proof that he was knocked out after a drug-induced rage where he cut her. (It is her right to make whatever narrative she wants.)

On cross-examination, Johnny’s lawyer Camille asked why if this incident included him cutting her, why didn’t she also take pictures of her wounds. Amber said it didn’t occur to her. (It is Johnny’s right to question her narrative and present his own.)

Amber presented more pictures of Johnny sleeping as proof that he was on drugs, the logic being that in one picture he had vomit on him. In cross-examination Amber admitted this was more likely to be ice cream, but her point still stood that Johnny falling asleep with ice cream in his hand was PROOF that he was on drugs. (Amber had already told her expert psychiatrist witness that the picture was of vomit, so when HE testified this evidence as part of his conclusion on Johnny, Camille had to tell him that Amber already admitted that it was actually just ice cream. He really was confused and frustrated by this. He was also told other things by Amber that other witnesses testified against, such as that Johnny was so brain-damaged that he needed his lines read to him by ear-piece and a co-worker testified that wasn't the case at all and Johnny liked to listen to music while taking shoots.)

Another picture he was so unconscious from drugs that “he didn’t notice the cigarette burning him” In cross-examination Camille got Amber to admit that there is no cigarette OR cigarette burn on Johnny because she “took it out of his hand before it burned him” and THEN took the picture… Camille pointed out to her claiming it DID burn him was therefore untrue.

Amber presented a picture of freshly placed cocaine and an unsmoked cigarette and presented that as proof Johnny was using drugs again. (In cross-examination Camille got Amber to admit that the drugs were unused. Camille then asked if Amber had any pictures of Johnny actually using or even in the same room AS cocaine and Amber said no…)

That’s how court works. You are supposed to scrutinize things. You are supposed to object to hearsay, speculation, and unfounded claims like a picture of Johnny sleeping MEANS it was because he was drunk. Johnny's legal team has asked time and time again why Amber takes so many pictures that imply drug use and domestic violence and so few pictures that show drug use and domestic violence. (And why she lies about what her photos implying things actually show.)

I am surprised you are using vague generalizations and stereotypes instead of the facts of the case. It’s a month-long case, being broken down and analyzed by lawyers, psychologists, and domestic abuse experts all over YouTube. What outlets are you using to following the due process of evidence, witnesses, and proper legal counsel of this case? Feel free to link anyone analyzing the testimonies, too!

Anyway, here is the testimony I’m getting this from:

Amber’s Testimony: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D8Ku-sN4Q8s

The Cross Examination: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=od3VhTd8r4A

#believe amber heard #believe all women #believe amber #pro amber heard #pro johnny depp #anti johnny depp #anti amber heard #depp v heard #depp v heard trial

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bratkook · 3 years

Text

right now. (m) jjk.

not yet, almost , right now

pairing. jungkook x reader genre. fluff, smut, idiots to lovers!! word count. 14.8k warnings. two mega fucking idiots<33, miscommunication/dumb assumptions, smut in forms of: fingering, oral sex (f.), orgasm denial, spanking, some spit bc duh, unprotected sex, super sweet & lovey!! also jungkook is a sweetheart pls love him summary. coming to terms with your feelings after getting off to the idea of your close friend is a little harder than you thought, but how long can you take before jungkook decides its time to move on? note. did jlin forget how to write for a few weeks? yes, yes she did....i know this took a long time but life is rough man so forgive me... but anyways lol the final part to the not yet!verse is hereeeee! thank you to @kithtaehyung for reading this over for me ily!! thank you guys for enjoying this mini series, the response was really unexpected but im sososo happy over every comment/ask i’ve gotten for this story. once again, tysm for your love and let me know what you think<3

The evening sun illuminates Jungkook’s apartment, golden hour bouncing off every reflective surface and straight into his eyes the second he walks in, immediately squinting as he makes a beeline to shut the blinds. His head was already throbbing from the hangover that decided to peak around noon, a mean case of nausea putting a damper on his work day. So as much as he loved soaking in some vitamin D today was not the day.

“Are you joking?” he huffs as he brings down the blinds, hand yanking at the flimsy string in an attempt to get it unstuck. “How stup—you’d think with the amount I pay every month in rent the blinds would work!”

Alright, so maybe he was a little grumpy today, choosing to take it out on an inanimate object and blame it purely on the bad decisions made last night—definitely had nothing to do with the residual moping of you going on a date. This could be fixed, easily.

The first order of business? Texting you to see if you’d be interested in devouring greasy food from your favorite place down the street. He’d get to see you and finally put something in his stomach, it’s the best of both worlds really.

Jungkook forgets about the blinds, leaving them stuck in the awkward position as he walks away entirely, fishing his phone out of his pocket while he enters his room. It’s the same text he always sends when he’s hangry: If I don’t get food in the next 15 mins I'm burning this place down and taking you with me.

He knows the response he’ll get, either that meme of the child in front of a burning house or an equally hangry paragraph. The phone gets tossed onto his bed as he changes out of his work clothes, needing to dispose of the business casual attire that was suffocating him, his old college hoodie giving him the comfort he needs.

By the time he’s finally slipping on his sneakers he’s expecting you to come knocking on his door, your impatient attitude always putting a smile on his face. Half of the time your neighbors thought you were having arguments from the way you’d pound onto the slab of wood, saying his name with just enough annoyance laced into each syllable it would fool anyone into thinking you were actually upset instead of being a brat. But when that never comes, he reaches for his phone again.

A few notifications fill up his screen, some instagram direct message previews, his group chat that he never responded to, and a few emails coming through, but you had yet to respond. Maybe it’s a little creepy, but Jungkook knows you’re home because he passed by your parked car on his way in. So his mind jumps to two extremes: you were either face down, drowning in your bathtub, or that yellow shades wearing wannabe version of himself was at your place.

Not an ounce of shame sits within him as he speedwalks to the side his bed was on, placing both palms onto the wall before his ear was pressed against the cold drywall. Jungkook’s not really sure what would make him feel good, hearing you and Jung Hoseok together, or hearing nothing at all. His ears strain to hear anything, but the only sound he gets is his own blood pumping.

With a small pout he pulls back, deciding he’d play the annoying neighbor role today and pound on your door instead. It’s a role he doesn’t take lightly, knuckles banging on the wood loud enough for you to hear wherever you were in your apartment. It takes a few minutes before any sign of life is shown, your door creaking open, and Jungkook is thankful because he was about to head to the maintenance office to ask for a key in case you actually were drowning in your bathtub.

“C’mon, let’s get food,” he declares instantly, a charming smile on his face as he stands with his hands stuffed into his jean pockets. The smile slowly falls off when he gets a good look at you, hair looking like a mess on your head and your fluffy blanket draped around you as you give out a weak cough. “Are you sick?”

“I think so,” you rasp out, leaning against your door frame and tugging the blanket tighter around you.

“Did that fucker give you mono?” Jungkook looks irritated, brows pinched together in a grimace—something you’re definitely not accustomed to seeing so you almost don’t catch his accusation.

“Jungkook, no! It’s nothing serious.”

He doesn’t look fully convinced, but he shrugs anyways, positive you weren’t interested in getting interrogated when you were feeling under the weather. “Alright, let me know if you need me to drive you to the doctor if it becomes something serious.”

With a roll of your eyes and a small smile, you wave him off, slowly shutting the door behind you. Your eye immediately peeks through your peephole, not relaxing until he makes his way down the hall and enters the elevator, still on his quest for greasy food.

“God, how old are you?” you grumble to yourself, yanking the blanket off your body and onto the floor with a huff. Pretending to be sick to avoid your friend was a new low, especially after the post-orgasm epiphany you had last night. A sane person would come to terms with their feelings and confess to them, uncertainty and possible rejection be damned! But you? No, you have to fake a cold like the giant coward you are.

The guilt only deepens when a knock comes from your door an hour later, a quick peek through your peephole allowing you to see Jungkook setting two plastic bags on the floor before stepping back and walking to his apartment next door. You don’t come out until you hear his door shut, seeing the logo of your favorite diner down the street. No doubt would your comfort meal be inside the takeaway container.

It takes all you have to not rush over to his place and say you were lying when you see he had also gone ahead and got you cold medication, a few different bottles because he surely didn’t know which was best, along with teas and some cough drops.

You’re a dirty liar. A horrible friend too.

That doesn’t stop you from devouring the meal in the takeout box as you’re hunched over your breakfast bar like a little gremlin. “This is just for today,” you mumble out to yourself as you set the plastic fork down and chug some of the leftover alcohol you had in your fridge. It’s your own version of a pity party, except the food feels heavy in your stomach, knowing the man you were avoiding was the one who bought it—bring on the guilt.

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

You’re a dirty liar and horrible friend 2.0. Why this time? Because tomorrow stretched out a few more days than planned. It wasn’t entirely intentional at first, getting stuck at work longer than usual and missing the weekly hangout at your place where you got your remote covered in cheeto dust as you argued over what to watch. But it trickled down onto shorter replies to his texts, or you scrambling out of your apartment and into the elevator so fast in order to not run into him, your mind still trying to list all the pros and cons to this potential relationship before you even had the guts to confess to your feelings.

Jungkook didn’t know thats what was occupying your mind, no he was currently thinking the worst. He notices the change instantly, recognizing it because this was the exact way you had acted while you were with Hajoon, right before you broke the news to him that you needed to keep some distance while you focused on your relationship. So Jungkook automatically assumes that your sudden change in behavior after going on a single date with Jung Hoseok, was because you wanted to make your relationship with this man work.

His assumption stings—a lot actually—and soon enough he stops initiating conversations altogether. He didn’t want to hear you tell him you had to distance yourself again, he’s not sure his heart could handle that a second time, so he decides to get ahead of the curb and take a massive step away from you. It hurts him to know you’re right next door, and just like before, it’s like you’re back to being total strangers.

Safe to say Jungkook was currently going on his own downward spiral.

You could text him like nothing had happened and he’d accept it with open arms, but instead you text your best friend an SOS text, begging her to meet you at your place. She calls you dramatic at first, but once you say it’s about Jungkook she shows up at your place in record time.

“Did you finally fuck him?” Is her greeting of choice, spoken shamelessly from the hallway with no worry about her volume. She cackles when you yank the bottle of wine from her grasp and tug her into your apartment, letting the door slam behind her.

“You’re lucky he’s not home you bitch.” An eye roll is her only response, yanking the bottle back and making her way into your kitchen to grab the opener.

“So you didn’t fuck him?” The cork pops at her question, a curious glance staring you down as she pours the red liquid into an oversized cup.

“No Seulgi, I didn’t fuck him. But I did...something.” It makes your face warm up as you remember it, gratefully grabbing the cup she hands your way because you definitely need some liquid courage before confessing to your sins.

She hums in thought as she raids your pantry for something to munch on, settling on a bag of mini pretzels before leading you to your couch, needing to know the gossip that led to your sos text. “Okay, did you accidentally send him a nude then?”

“No, that wouldn’t be so bad I think?” Sending him an accidental nude would be laughable, probably resolved by a few screaming texts and dumb jokes before moving on. But new feelings seeing the light of day seemed so much worse. “But I sort of kissed him at a club a few weeks ago to get back at Hajoon—long story,” you cut in when you see her ready to fire off questions.

“And then I went on that failed Tinder date I told you about, and when I got home I sort of heard him, you know,”— you mimic a jerking off motion with your hand and ignore her lewd gasp, “and then I…” you trail off shamefully.

“No!” she gasps even louder, hand pressed to her mouth and eyes wide.

“Yes! And the fucking orgasm opened my eyes and made me realize that maybe that tiny crush you guys always joke about him having is real, and maybe I have a tiny crush on him too.”

“Does he know?”

“That I like him?”

“No, that you rubbed one out while listening to him you dirty slut!” Oh she’s loving this, leaning back into your cushions with a handful of pretzels resting on her boobs, a sly smile on her lips as she takes a sip of her wine. She’s the one who planted the seed in your mind, playfully joking about Jungkook any chance she got, saying he had the hots for you because she enjoyed the flustered look on your face. No doubt would she text the group chat with the news the second you finish this cry for help.

“Do you think I told him? I can barely come to terms with the fact that I like him. Like what am I supposed to do?”

She sighs dramatically, munching on the final pretzel on her tits before sitting up and dusting off the crumbs from her shirt. “Look, I know you’re just realizing that he likes you so this is still new and fresh for you, but we’ve noticed it for years. It’s fine that you didn’t see it, you had other things occupying your mind.”

You frown as you stare at the rug beneath your feet, remembering how life was when you first moved into this complex. Getting out of a previous relationship weeks prior, when you had met Jungkook your mind was not interested in pursuing anything with him regardless of how cute you thought he was. It made it easier for you to form a friendship, not worried about trying to impress him, or flirt with him, allowing him to see you for who you truly are.

Jungkook had his fair share of girlfriends during the years, none of which were entirely serious but by the time he was completely single you had met Hajoon, and he had accepted the fact that maybe you were better off as friends and he would just admire you from afar. That is, until you decided to plant one on him. So technically this is your fault.

“Jungkook likes you okay, and I’m sure if you just marched next door and told him you like him too he’ll drop on one knee and marry you.”

“Shut up,” you snort, shoving her shoulder with a smile.

“As a matter of fact, go over there right now!” She stands up from her spot, yanking your arms to haul you up with her.

“I told you, he’s not home. But, I’ll tell him. I have to.”

Seulgi crosses her arms over her chest as she stares at you, clearly displeased that she wouldn’t be witness to this love story unfolding in real time. “You better. You never know what sneaky little bitch is trying to get him to get over you.”

The sneaky little bitch in question is Park Jimin, currently sitting directly across from Jungkook, guzzling down beer like his life depends on it. It's impressive really, how quickly he empties the cup, eyes shut looking as content as could be even in the dim lighting. Jungkook can only watch with a grimace as his friend sets the glass down and wipes at his mouth with no sense of table manners.

“What?” he burps, proceeding to pour more of the golden liquid into his cup from the pitcher in the middle of the table.

“I always forget how absolutely disgusting you are. How do you do it?” Jimin just frowns at the question, not entirely understanding so Jungkook continues. “What switch do you flip to go from sipping champagne to chugging beer like a fucking biker.”

“It’s a talent, I know.” He smiles wide, reaching forward to grip Jungkook’s hand and force him to grab his own cup. Condensation was pooling around the bottom from sitting there untouched, and that just wouldn’t do on Jimin’s watch. “C’mon, drink it!”

“Fine,” Jungkook grumbles, raising the glass and allowing Jimin to clank the cups together before taking a big gulp. He doesn’t clear the cup like his friend did seconds prior but it's enough to appease him. It tastes absolutely bitter the whole way down, settling into his stomach uncomfortably, and the look on his face as he pushes the glass away from him is very telling.

Boisterous shouts fill the sports bar they were in, huddles of people surrounding the tables and booths as they watched the current soccer match playing on the televisions lining the walls. Jungkook honestly feels like a debby downer now, moping in his seat instead of enjoying the atmosphere with his friend like they normally did. The current game was definitely not the reason Jungkook had texted Jimin to grab drinks, no he needed an outlet to talk about you—preferably in a space that didn’t have walls as thin as his apartment.

When he barely acknowledges the plate of wings set in front of him Jimin huffs, resisting the urge to dig in because he knew once he did he wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else. “Are you gonna be like this the entire time?”

“Like what?” Jungkook has the gall to ask, acting as if he wasn’t looking like a wounded animal.

“Like you just discovered your wife of ten years is having an affair with your sister.”

He sits up straighter at that, eyes wide in disbelief. “Jesus.“

Jimin knew the jist of what was happening through the texts he had received the past week, but it seems like Jungkook didn’t want to jump into the topic of it at all now that they were sitting across from each other. He just sighs before deciding to be honest, wasting no time beating around the bush to hopefully be the voice of reason Jungkook needs. “You’ve been simping over her for years JK, and I get it, you think she could be the one. But what about you huh? It’s not fair for you to have your heart wrung out each time she gets a man and decides to put the friendship on pause—“

“That happened once!” He defends, brows pinched on his forehead as he shakes his head, ready to explain your situation because he wasn’t a fan of hearing his friend say anything about you when he didn’t truly know what happened. “The dude was a piece of shit and basically told her it was him or me. I’m not gonna crucify her for wanting a long term relationship to work.”

“Right, so she’s not icing you out again because she got a new man? That’s literally what you told me, it’s why I bought you this sympathy pitcher of beer!”

“Fuck you, you bought this pitcher for yourself.” Jimin had chugged two giant glasses of beer already, and was steadily working on his third, whereas Jungkook’s watered down cup remained relatively untouched. “Besides, I was just...spiraling and assumed when I sent you that desperate text. But I haven’t heard anything.”

Jimin can only stare blankly at the table as he processes what was just said before locking eyes with his friend once more, “Sorry, what? You haven’t heard anything? The hell kind of riddle is that.”

Jungkook sinks into the booth with a look of shame, not wanting to admit to occasionally laying in his bed at night in complete and total silence just to see if he could hear you and the hypothetical version of Jung Hoseok doing literally anything. It’s not one of his proudest moments, feeling like a bit of a creeper as he laid stiff on his bed, too scared to make a sound. “Nothing, forget about it. Point is, I haven’t seen the fucker come in or out of her place, so what does that mean?”

A deep sigh comes from Jimin, hand reaching forward to push the beer closer to Jungkook, desperately trying to get him to drink and ease up. “It means you pay far too much attention to her. When was the last time you got any action?”

Two weeks ago. From his hand and filthy imagination.

“A few months,” he grumbles, remembering his last hook up that happened a few days before he discovered you got dumped.

“Get outta here.” Jimin rolls his eyes as he points to the door. “Literally, go stand at the corner outside, show some thighs or a tattooed titty and take your pick of the swarm of girls that will surely follow you.”

Jungkook thinks he’s joking, but when his friend doesn’t drop his hand and narrows his eyes threateningly he knows he’s being serious. “My tits aren’t even tattooed,”—his large palms press against his shirt covered chest as if to prove a point— “And you sound like a douchebag talking like this.”

“What? She went on a tinder date and definitely got laid, so you need to even out the playing field. Also, it might help you chill the hell out.”

“Oh my god, you’re not helping.” Jungkook really didn’t need that visual again, it had flashed in his mind too often the night of his pity party and now it was once again at the front of his brain.

“Alright, okay. I’m throwing out my safe word right now.” Jimin leans closer, arms resting on the table with a confused look on his face. “What do you need from me here? Like, do I play the role of a supportive friend who wants you to get over her, or do I play the role of a friend who wants you to confess? Because you’re giving me some mixed signals Jeon.”

A groan escapes Jungkook, fingers rubbing at his eyes before dragging down his face as he sinks even further into his seat. “I don’t know.”

It’s the truth. Jungkook had no idea what he wanted his friend to do to help him. He knew that although his feelings for you have weighed heavy on his chest for what seems like years, you technically had no idea, so he feels a little guilty over his frustration for the whole situation. You were newly single again and determined to go through this self proclaimed wild phase so Jungkook isn’t dumb enough to think you can’t go out and do whatever you want, even if that means being with someone who isn’t him.

“Look,” Jimin sighs, pulling him out of his thoughts. “You only have two choices here, tell her how you feel and accept whatever comes with it, or make peace with the idea of just being friends. Either way, I think you need to loosen up and have fun tonight.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Jungkook sits himself up, wrapping his fingers around the cup in an effort to at least look like he wanted to be here. He couldn’t sit here and mope about a problem like this when he hadn’t attempted to come out and tell you how he feels.

One night of loosening up to get you off his mind wouldn’t hurt, if anything it might help him come to his senses. At least that’s what Jimin was currently whispering with a mischievous smile on his lips. “It’ll be fine, I’ll make sure you don’t black out and get home safe. Who knows, you might get plastered enough to drunk text your confession.”

Jungkook glares at his friend, not liking the goofy look on his face as he starts to laugh. “I swear to god, you better not let me get to that point. Take my phone away from me.”

Jimin obviously wants to see the world burn, or at least he enjoys it when Jungkook somehow digs himself into his own grave. That's exactly why he responds with a million laughing emojis when Jungkook texts him asking why the hell he hadn’t taken his phone last night.

He did a good job hiding his shock when a knock came from his front door, half expecting it to be you, keeping a smile on his face as he allowed the person who was very clearly not you in before swiftly entering his bathroom. Jungkook wants to stay locked here forever, holed up while he sits on his toilet and not in the living room with company. It wasn’t like it was bad company either, his drunken ass going through his contact list and sending an invitation to hangout the following day to the last person he spoke to, Aillie.

The girl is sweet, someone he had a casual fling with for months, someone who was used to his random texts so she doesn’t think twice before agreeing. The only silver lining to this was that he hadn’t sent you a typo-filled drunken confession, which is what Jimin responds with before telling him to suck it up and leave his bathroom.

Jungkook accepts his fate, as well as accepting that he is partially responsible for this. He shoves his device back into his pockets before standing up and flushing the toilet for show, washing his hands just to stall. One good glance at his reflection makes him cringe, stained shirt and sweats combo leaves him looking like the unprepared mess he is. Another detour through his room to change was a must before he has no choice but to step back out.

“You’re totally hung over aren’t you?” Aillie jokes from her spot on the couch, comfortable enough in his apartment from the time spent here. She locks her phone as she stands up, taking her time to really look Jungkook over. He was not dressed like someone who was expecting a guest, and despite having seen Jungkook at his sloppiest, his previous attire of oversized shirt and slightly stained sweatpants didn’t look like someone who was expecting a fuck buddy to pop over. Even with his new outfit looking more put together, it was obvious Jungkook was caught off guard by her showing up.

“What?” Jungkook dumbly asks, trying to come up with some lame excuse to justify his earlier appearance but he falls short. His fingers gently rake through his hair, a grimace falling on his face as he looks back up at her. “Actually, a little. Sorry, I got drunk last night when I text you so sober me was not really prepared.”

“Yeah I figured, you sent me some blurry selfies right after. But we can just hang, we don’t have to do anything,” she trails off, a soft smile on her lips. The only time they ever hung out was to hook up, having ten minute conversations before and after the fact. “Or I can leave too if it's weird that I’m here.”

Jungkook is shaking his head before she can even finish, already feeling bad enough after texting her to come over. How shitty would he be if he immediately kicked her out. This was fine, a nice distraction from it all, decent middle ground that would help him get his mind off you without having to take Jimin’s douchebag advice.

“No, we can watch a movie or something. It’s not like I have other plans.” Had this been two weeks ago it would be a totally different story. Jungkook would typically be waiting in his apartment as he stared at the slowly ticking clock, just waiting for it to strike 7:30 because that's when you usually got home. Then he’d either get a text from you to come over with snacks or you’d show up at his door and invite yourself over for the weekly game night.

It didn’t happen last week, or the week prior, so Jungkook is very confident that it would not be happening today either. It’s that same sense of confidence—and saltiness—that allows him to get comfortable with Aillie, blissfully unaware that you had just pulled into the parking garage a few stories below.

“I swear to god if you don’t go straight to his door the minute you get off the elevator I will never let you live it down.” Seulgi’s voice fills your car through the speakers, fading out as you shut the car off and bring your phone to your ear to continue the conversation.

“Dude, I just got off work. I need to make myself look decent.” Plastic bags rustle together as you grab the snacks you had picked up on your way home, all full of yours and Jungkook's favorite treats. It was definitely a guilt fueled purchase, hoping the items were enough to distract him from the fact that you were kind of a bitch for ghosting him recently, or at least butter him up into accepting your apology easier.

“You think Jungkook cares if you’re a little sweaty from work? He’s a grown man, that’s not gonna stop him from going do—“

“Okay, goodbye!” You hastily cut her off as you press the elevator button, hearing her rambling off about being interrupted. “I’m about to get on the elevator, I’ll tell you how it goes.”

With a small sigh you hang up and stuff the device into your purse, stepping onto the lift as the doors open up and pressing the number for your floor. Your hands are clammy as you grip the plastic bag, uncharacteristically nervous about seeing Jungkook again after so long.

The main obstacle for you to get over was apologizing for being a crappy friend, and if that went well you were going to suck it up and just come out and confess, the odds of him saying no were slim. And even if he did, you’re perfectly content with staying friends, as long as you could keep him close.

It’s that same optimistic mentality that allows you to calm down as you enter your place and decide to give yourself a minute to mentally prepare. His favorite ice cream gets put into the freezer for later before you decide to shower and give yourself a pep talk the entire time.

This pep talk of yours is filled with best case scenarios: Jungkook accepting the confession with open arms, finally being able to kiss him properly, everything falling into place the way it should have a long time ago. And as you head over, totally sober, freshly washed, looking and smelling your best, you really can’t picture this going any other way.

With a deep breath you’re knocking on his front door, quickly pulling back your hand and wiping it onto your pants as you step back. Jungkook hears the knock clearly from his spot on the couch, his gaze tearing away from the television to stare at his front door with a small frown. He hadn’t ordered any food and Aillie had just excused herself to use his bathroom so his brain is having a hard time wondering who it could be.

He curses under his breath, not putting it past himself to have texted a second person last night with an invitation to hang out. Why was Jungkook a friendly drunk?

As he presses his eye against the peephole and spots you standing there, he thinks he’s imagining things. It had seemed like so long since he had last seen you in person, and the warped fish-eyed version of you has him stepping back and rubbing his eyes before taking another glance. He suddenly feels like throwing up, and he can’t blame his earlier hangover on it.

For a brief second he contemplates pretending he hadn’t heard you, but the guilt of doing so makes his heart twist, so he musters up the courage to open the door. It’s barely a crack really, just enough for you to see him while still concealing his apartment, something you definitely found strange because you’re usually flinging the door open and strutting right in, but you suppose his reaction is warranted considering your previous behavior.

“Y/N, hey. Are you alright?”

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine!” Your fingers tangle together in front of you, not entirely sure what to do with your nerves and Jungkook spots it easily. His own nerves sky rocket when he hears the sound of running water coming from his bathroom a few feet away, knowing Aillie would most likely pop out any second now, and he’s not sure why it feels like a dirty secret that he has another girl over.

“Did you need something?”

“Yeah, I was actually wanting to talk to you about something kind of important.” Your smile is hopeful, despite the nerves swirling in your eyes. The nervous skip of your heart is felt in your throat, not remembering the last time you had felt this way about telling someone how you felt about them romantically.

“Right now?” he wonders, fingers gripping the door handle tighter when he hears his bathroom door unlock, the sound of footsteps rounding the corner before stepping into the living room, a few feet away from the door and in perfect view of the wedge Jungkook had opened.

When your eyes flicker over his shoulder, spotting the auburn haired girl giving you a curious glance, you feel all your confidence slip away. Seulgi had definitely been right about needing to confess soon, Jungkook was a catch and just because you hadn’t realized it sooner didn’t mean the rest of the world was blind to it.

“Yeah, right now...but you’re busy, so it’s fine!” You want to scramble away from there, feeling dumb the longer you stand there. Jungkook wants to say he’s not busy, kick the girl out of his place and invite you in but that wouldn’t be fair to her, for all he knew your important conversation would be a repeat of the conversation you had over Hajoon, and he really didn't want to get friendship dumped while this girl was in his apartment. He’s pretty sure his Yelp rating would drop a bit if he cried on the couch about you to his old hook up.

He starts to speak but you cut him off before he can, “Don’t worry about it! I’ll see you later.” You force a smile before walking away, not allowing him to get a word in as you quickly step into your apartment and move to the furthest room away from your bedroom.

You can feel the cold of your kitchen floor as you sit on your butt, back against your cabinets, the small twinge of defeat spreading within you. “This is fine. Maybe she’s just a friend. I can always tell him tomorrow,” you whisper out. But your fingers seem to think otherwise as they type out a message to Seulgi, informing her that the mission was unsuccessful and you’d be putting on The Notebook like you always did. It was basically protocol to do so when things went south in your life.

She doesn’t even know how to console you, knowing she can’t tell you it was his loss or that he wasn’t worth it because she knows that’d be a lie and you wouldn’t believe it for a second. The only thing she can offer is coming over, but you’re quick to turn her down, deciding that being alone in the comfort of your bed as you inhaled the ice cream you bought for Jungkook would be best.

Is being in your room the wisest choice when you know you share a wall with Jungkook—and he has a cute girl over? No. Probably not. But you figure if you hear anything explicit it’s just your dose of karma, so you accept it, turning up the volume of the movie a few levels just to soften the blow.

However, Jungkook would definitely not be hooking up with her in his bedroom, or anywhere in his apartment for that matter. Luckily Aillie is blessed with the gift of reading the damn room and can easily spot the shift in Jungkook’s mood the second he shuts the door. She’s sitting on the edge of the couch now, hands gently placed on her knees as she gives him a sympathetic smile.

“I get the vibe that somethings off.”

He looks up at her then, slowing his pace until he’s awkwardly standing in the middle of the room with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “My friend—my neighbor just wanted to talk about something. But everything’s fine.”

The lie tastes bitter on his tongue, and Aillie doesn’t believe him in the slightest. A small sigh fills the air as she stands up, collecting her bag and approaching him. “Look, I know deep talks really aren’t our thing so I’m not going to even try to dive into this, but you should go talk to your friend.”

A comforting hand is placed on his shoulder before she makes her way to the door to leave, Jungkook already following closely behind her. “No, you don’t have to go. You came all this way because I texted you with way too much tequila in my system.”

“Jungkook,” she laughs, opening the door with a smile. “You’re way too sweet for your own good. It was nice seeing you though.” Her eyes slowly move over to your front door before looking back at him, head cocking to the side in a very clear indication that he better go over. He can only nod in understanding, waving her goodbye and shutting the door once she heads down to the elevator.

The action sounds of the movie they were watching continues to fill his apartment, whatever chaos was going on only making his brain whirl so he’s quick to grab the remote and shut it off entirely. Now he’s just stuck in complete silence, wondering if he should quickly make his way over to yours or play it calm and collected.

The total silence allows him to hear the muffled mumbling of a movie he knew all too well. It draws him in, lures him into his bedroom until he’s kneeling on the mattress with his ear pressed against the wall to properly make it out. You were watching the Notebook, at a concerning volume, which could mean a number of things. Jungkook knew none of them were good, usually rooted in issues you had with your ex, or a tough day at work, or any particular day where you just felt like crying.

With a deep breath, he’s slowly knocking along his wall, almost experimentally, hoping it's enough to grab your attention through the current scene playing. For a second he thinks maybe you’ve fallen asleep while watching the film, but then the room falls silent as you pause it entirely.

Your hearts racing now, ears straining to hear anything else and hoping this wasn’t how the beginning of the explicit noises would start, but then another knock comes from behind you. It makes you gasp, like you’ve just been caught being the nosey neighbor you are, hearing the soft scrape of his hand sliding down the wall. The ice cream gets put onto your nightstand as you sit up properly, forcing yourself out of the mountain of pillows you were practically suffocating in and turning around to knock back.

Jungkook’s palm presses back onto the wall, smiling at your response before fishing his phone out of his pocket. His fingers find your thread of messages, further down the list than he was used to, and as he opens them up and sees the string of unanswered texts dating back to two weeks ago, it stings just like it did before. He pushes his pride aside though, knowing you had wanted to talk today in person, so he proceeds to quadruple text you.

Jungkook 8:44pm : are you seriously watching the notebook again?

You’re unlocking your phone the second it buzzes, smiling at the dimly lit screen before typing out a response.

Y/N 8:45pm : shut up, it’s my comfort movie

Y/N 8:45pm : do you wanna watch it with me? for old times sake

The device is locked and placed face down onto your sheets the second you hit send, sinking into the pillows once again as you try not to scream at yourself because you know he’ll hear you. Why would you invite him over when he clearly has company? You had seen her with your own eyes, had seen how cute she is, had seen how cute Jungkook is, it doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

Jungkook is quick though, texting back in agreement and heading over instantly. If you were watching your comfort movie then Jungkook wanted to make sure you were okay. Putting the past two weeks behind him, knowing you’d most likely have a good enough explanation—an explanation he would definitely be needing before the night was over—he’s knocking on your door before you can even check your messages.

It takes you a minute to untangle your limbs from your covers as you hastily try to get to your door, sock clad feet sliding along your wooden floors when you finally yank the door open. Jungkook wears a soft smile as he stares down at you, taking note that you had switched your outfit to your usual sad movie binge attire of baggy shirt and lounge shorts. His eyes zero in on your lips when he notices there's something lingering at the corner of them.

“So, are you gonna share whatever the hell that is?” His finger points at it smugly, laughing when your tongue peeks out to wipe it away.

“It was actually meant to be for you.” Stepping aside, you let him enter your place. Jungkook almost feels a little strange being here after the weird few weeks, but he pushes it aside, just wanting things to feel normal.

“Does that mean there’s no more left?” His eyes playfully narrow at you as you step closer, moving on to stare at the kitchen table, and the coffee table in search of the tub of ice cream that supposedly had his name on it. The earlier nerves you felt slowly fade away when you realize he’s not visibly upset about what happened, but it only makes your guilt deepen that despite your ability to be a crummy friend, Jungkook would still try his best to come through for you.

“There’s about half of it left, it’s probably a little soft now though.” You side step him to enter the kitchen, grabbing an extra spoon and handing it over as a peace treaty, smiling when he gratefully accepts it. “C’mon, I paused the movie.”

Jungkook is not a stranger to your bedroom, especially when sappy movies were playing, finding his spot easily on the right side where he typically handed you tissues whenever you cried. The tissues were missing this time, in place of them being the bag of snacks you had bought, his ice cream on the other nightstand.

“What part are you on?” he asks, settling onto the bed after fluffing up the pillows, waving his hands so you could pass the tub of ice cream his way.

“It just started raining on the boat.” Jungkook hums, scooping out some of the chocolate ice cream and into his mouth. He knew this scene very well, and when you press play, he mentally repeats all of the lines. Just as Noah declares he wrote her 365 letters, you awkwardly clear your throat, your own spoon slowly sneaking over to his side to steal some ice cream for yourself.

“I’m sorry if I made things awkward with your date.” Your voice sounds timid, something he’s not used to hearing from you at all, so he chuckles, laughing harder when you swat at his arm. “I’m serious, I should have texted you before just showing up.”

“Really? When have you ever done that before?” The two of you never notified the other when they wanted to show up, Jungkook had even given you the code to his place once when he was at work and you were desperate for some fruity pebbles—you used that code to your advantage and Jungkook never hated it. But all things considered, it's fair why you think you would have to give him a heads up.

“You didn’t make it awkward though.” It’s not the complete truth, you coming over is what had made Aillie decide to leave, but Jungkook had to take most of the credit for it. “I kinda made it awkward from the beginning.”

“Why, what happened?”

“I went out last night with Jimin“ —you immediately hum in understanding, knowing very well how convincing Jimin could be with alcohol— “and apparently I texted her to hang out today, had no recollection, so when she showed up I was definitely not ready.”

“Damn, this is how I know you’re a better person than I am. If that happened to me, the second I checked my peephole and saw someone I didn’t remember inviting over, I’m gonna pretend I’m not home.”

“Yeah well, she lives like an hour away so I’d feel like an ass if I did that. Don’t think I’ll be talking to her again any time soon though.” He sighs in thought, gently tapping his spoon on the surface of the softening ice cream. There was one thing weighing heavy on his mind, needing to know what important thing you had to talk to him about, wondering if you were actually going to friendship dump him earlier and he had just made it worse by coming over and hanging out like old times.

He doesn’t want to come right out and ask it though, not wanting to set himself up for an awkward conversation in case that wasn’t what you wanted to talk about, so he settles for something safe enough that would allow him to get a glimpse.

“So how are things with Hoseok?” Yeah, that’s a good start.

“Huh?” Your spoon freezes in its spot, face clearly looking confused in the dim glow of the television, the movie long forgotten now that you were speaking.

“Tinder guy? Yellow sunglasses guy that gave you mono?”

It suddenly clicks again, having forgotten all about Jung Hoseok the second you had gotten home from the failed date and came to terms with your feelings. Your lie of having a cold must have been believable enough for Jungkook to genuinely think he had given you something like mono.

“He didn’t give me mono!” Jungkook rolls his eyes with a playful smile, humming along like he totally believes you. “But I didn’t tell you?”

He frowns as he stares at you, not entirely sure how to take your tone. “Tell me what? That you’re engaged and the wedding is in June?”

“No way,” you laugh, swatting his spoon away with a clank as you grab some ice cream before shoving it in your mouth, fighting against the brain freeze to continue speaking. “Our date was a bust.”

“How? Was it that bad?” He desperately wanted to know, having convinced himself the date had gone spectacularly well and you were now an exclusive item. The small twinge of guilt is felt when he realizes he’s a little too happy that the date had been a failure, but he allows himself to have this small, tiny victory.

“Mm, it was so good it was bad.” He looks utterly confused, and you don’t blame him, so you elaborate. “He was this perfect gentleman who just wanted to play games, like to the point where he had a notebook where he was tallying our points, and then he walked me to my car and kissed my cheek goodbye.”

“Oh the horror!” Jungkook gasps, setting his spoon down to clutch his heart in dramatics. “How dare he try to romance you with a game night.”

“Jungkook, shut up!” you laugh, finally feeling like everything was right again, sitting in bed with your closest friend as you teased each other. “Look, I’ll give him some credit. The date was nice, he was not the sleazy douchebag his profile made him out to be, and I’m sure he’ll find the perfect girl for him on Tinder. But he clearly wanted something serious and—“

“And you don’t want that right now. It’s fair.” Of course you would turn him down, you had just decided to embark on this new adventure in the single world. It was kind of dumb for Jungkook to assume one date with Tinder Boy would be enough for you to give up your short lived dream.

You take a steady breath at his words before taking another scoop of ice cream, lips wrapped around the spoon as you slowly pull it out of your mouth. The nerves are trickling back in, making your heart skip and your eyes bounce around. If you don’t come out and say it now, you know you never will.

Your spoon joins his in the tub of ice cream before you decide to move it back to the nightstand, forcing yourself to look back at him, seeing him turned away as he rummages through the plastic bag full of snacks. “I don’t want that with him.”

Jungkook freezes, the rustling of plastic ceases as his hands come back to his sides and he turns back around. With him. He was the king of jumping to worse case scenarios so his brain has no issues coming to this very horrible conclusion.

“Have you been talking to Hajoon again?”

“No, Jungkook I haven’t.”

“Are you sure? I’m saying this now, but if you get back with him I will not hesitate to pop him in the face if I run into him in the halls. It’s fair game out there, neutral territory for him to get his ass beat—“

“It’s you.”

His brain short circuits at that, mini versions of himself currently running around and screaming in his head as he tries to make sense of this. The first instinct he has is to crack a joke, to say that he hadn’t been talking to Hajoon again, and laugh it off. But you look a little too vulnerable right now, eyes nervously looking at him and then looking away at his lingering silence.

“Wait, what?” It’s the only thing he can sputter out, caught off guard by your words, not wanting to say anything else in case the world was cruel enough for him to have completely misheard you.

“I don’t want that with Tinder Boy or Hajoon, I want it with you.” It gets a little easier saying it a second time, but his reaction is hard to gauge. You had been expecting him to reciprocate the confession instantly, but the longer he looked shocked only made you think that you and Seulgi had been seriously wrong about his supposed crush.

Jungkook is having a difficult time trying to go from you ghosting him to you suddenly admitting to liking him, the change in emotions not allowing him to say anything he had practiced in the mirror for so long. He can’t come out and give you a speech about how he thinks you’re the one, how you’re obviously a good match together, brain too focused on other details. “How long have you known this?”

“For the past two weeks, but deep down I know it’s been longer.”

His wide eyes glance over at you now, everything slowly clicking into place. “Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“Yes,” you mumble, embarrassed over the way you had acted. The last time you had avoided someone was in elementary school, having a best friend go ask your crush if he likes you while you hid in the bathroom, scared of the answer. “I like you Jungkook and I knew I wouldn’t be able to play it cool. I was scared to say something and have you not feel the same and then have our friendship be weird.”

Jungkook smiles in that adorable way you love, nose scrunching up cutely as he leans closer, large palms coming to cup your cheeks. He has wanted to hear this for so long, and sure, maybe it wasn’t some super romantic confession over a candlelit dinner like he had occasionally dreamed of, but this felt right.

“You’re so stupid,” he whispers out, thumb softly caressing your cheek as he chuckles, feeling the way your lips turn into a frown at his harmless insult.

“Jungkook, I’m being serious,” you whine, heart still pounding in your chest. Your hands come up to gently wrap around his wrists, allowing him to continue to squish your cheeks with that endearing look on his face.

“I’m being serious too Y/N. Did you really think I wouldn’t feel the same?” Jungkook did everything he did with you out of pure friendliness, never expecting to get something in return from it, but there was a small sprinkling of a crush in every one of his actions. “I like you too, and I have for a really long time.”

The relief you feel comes instantly, lips slowly pulling into a smile when you finally have the confidence to look directly into his eyes again. If this is how light you feel after the two weeks spent freaking out, you can only imagine how Jungkook feels. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Now, can I please kiss you?” You’re nodding the second the question leaves his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as his hands glide down to cup your jaw, soft lips slowly pressing against yours. It’s a gentle smack of skin as he pulls back, a smirk on his lips when he opens his eyes, softly rubbing his nose against yours.

“Wait,” he breathes out, chuckling softly. “Is he still looking?” He has the nerve to repeat the same question that had been the root of your guilt, and when your eyes shoot open and glare at him, he can’t stop the laughter that bubbles out.

“I hate you,” you mutter out, not an ounce of truth behind it.

“Mm, no you don’t.”

His lips find yours again, falling into a steady rhythm, softer and less rushed than the first kiss you had shared at the club. There’s no pounding bass in the background, or the taste of liquor on your lips, but Jungkook prefers it this way. He likes the low hum of the movie continuing to play in the background, the sweetness of the ice cream lingering on your lips when his tongue gently swipes at the seam of them, the way your hands slowly slide around his neck as he deepens each kiss.

With each shared breath, you slide further down your bed, pulling Jungkook down with you until he’s hovering directly above you. His knees dig into the sheets, one hand pressed beside your head to keep himself stable as you urge him even closer to you. The delicate golden chain he wears kisses your skin, pendant settling onto your chest, the cool sensation is almost enough to distract you as his tongue slowly slips into your mouth. Jungkook groans when you let out a small gasp, your fingers slipping into his hair and tugging gently at the strands by the nape of his neck.

He wants to remember this kiss instead of the one from the club, embed every gasp you let out into his brain, the way your chest pushes up to feel more of him, how your hands slide down his back, leaving a fiery trail in their path that makes Jungkook shiver. And when you slide your thighs further apart for him, innocently at first, he can’t help it when his lips freeze on yours as you slowly roll your hips upwards. It gives him the same automatic reaction he had gotten at the club, all the blood rushing to his cock instantly, except this time he doesn’t feel the shame he had felt before. There was no ulterior motive to what you were doing, sincerity shown in your confession, shared within each kiss, so Jungkook allows himself to bask in the want he feels for you.

“Y/N,” he groans out when you repeat the action, pulling away from your swollen lips to stare at you through hooded eyes. You’re licking your lips over as your eyes slowly open, a small glimmer evident in them as you tilt your head and pretend to not know what you’re doing.

“What?” you question, leaning up to kiss the edge of his mouth, giggling when he attempts to chase your lips as you pull back, choosing to kiss down his jaw instead. As your tongue gently trails along the side of his neck, you feel the harsh gulp he takes, his fingers bunching up in the sheets beside your head. His neck has always been a weak point for him, turning him into a puddle in seconds, you knew this from the unfiltered conversations you’ve had and it was something you were definitely going to be using to your advantage.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he grunts, eyes fluttering shut as you nip at his skin, a visible shiver racking through him.

“Of course I am,” you hum, letting your hands roam his back, sliding around his front until you’re sneaking past the white fabric of his shirt. When your cool hands meet his skin, he tenses, the muscles on his stomach tightening up as your fingertips trail up his body. You’ve known Jungkook was well defined, lean and toned in all the best places, having seen him shirtless a few times. But being able to touch him like this, feel each stuttered breath and jump of his skin reacting to your touch fueled you.

Jungkook knows you can feel the racing of his heart now, your palms flat on his chest, each thrum revealing his emotions despite the cool and calm exterior he was trying to have. His hips lower towards yours, resisting the urge to rut into you as you start to suck on his skin. The low hum you let out vibrates against his neck, mixed in with the feeling of your wet lips, and he knows he’s done for. The final blow comes in the form of you swiping your tongue at the blossomed hickey, sweet voice pulling him back to earth as you look at him once more. “I want you Jungkook.”

Oh god, he couldn’t do this. His face pulls into a grimace, begging himself to not instantly cum in his pants at what you just said. How many times has he fantasized about this? Hoped you’d beg him for anything in that same exact voice, dreamed of you kissing and sucking on his skin like you currently were. Jungkook isn’t sure any amount of mental preparation would be enough for this.

“Say that again please.”

You giggle, finger pushing back a strand of his hair as it falls over his face, tucking it behind his ear. The normal doe eyed look you were accustomed to is nowhere to be found, pupils blown out in lust as he stares at you. Being on the receiving end of this stare fills your stomach with butterflies, the flapping of their wings intensifying as he nudges his nose into yours.

“I want you.” It’s breathless, spoken so softly through the background noise like a personal secret just for him. Jungkook doesn’t think he’ll ever grow tired of hearing you say it, that much is proven true when you repeat it in between kisses, trailing back up his neck in the same path you had taken until you're speaking the words directly against his lips. He swallows them down greedily, groaning into your mouth when his tongue tangles with yours once more.

“Fuck, you can have me baby.” He chuckles against your mouth when you start to tug at his shirt, yanking the thin material until he has to pull back and slip the tee off himself. The balled fabric gets tossed aside without a care, dark swirls of ink on his arm fully revealed now, each tattoo reminding you of how long you’ve known him, remembering the two pieces that he had when you first met. When he leans back over you, taking his time trailing kisses down your neck, onto your chest until his own hands are slowly tugging your shirt off of you, you decide there’s other things to focus on besides his glorious tattoos.

“Ah, Jungkook,” you sigh, fingers tangling into his hair when he kisses the swells of your breast, warm tongue sliding over your nipple before his lips are wrapping around it. His large palm gropes the other, thumb flicking over the pebbled bud, smirking when you push your chest further out for him.

“What baby?” He pulls back to blow a gust of cool air on your nipple, the wetness of his saliva making your skin break out into goosebumps.

“No teasing.”

Jungkook’s laughing now, eyes peering up at you through his lashes. “Oh, you think I’m not gonna tease you after what you did?” He tsks in disapproval as he continues to kiss down your torso, letting his hands trail down your sides, not stopping until he reaches the hem of your shorts. A kiss is placed above your navel as he pulls the shorts down your legs, toying with the waistband of your black underwear. “I’m gonna take my time with you.”

The build up before pleasure will always be your favorite part. The way his hands grip your thighs after tugging your underwear off, fingertips trailing up until his palm is pressing them further apart. It’s impossible to look at him now, the visual of his long hair framing his face as he starts to press wet kisses on your skin is too much to handle. You can feel the warm huff of air when he laughs as your head drops back onto the pillow once more, eyes slipping shut while you wait with anticipation.

Jungkook wants to comment over how wet you are already, boost his own ego about being able to rile you up with just kissing, but he can see the way you’re already on edge, and he decides he can tease you some more later with what he has in store. Instead, he gives you what you’re mentally pleading him for. Finally pressing his soft lips to your folds, the short gasp you release as his tongue glides up before gently flicking across your clit has him shutting his own eyes, reveling in the way you react to his touch.

His long fingers spread out your folds before he’s messily spitting onto them, watching the way the glob of saliva trickles down before he’s diving in, falling into the perfect pace with ease. It has your hips rutting up instantly, your hand uncurling its grip from your sheets to travel down your body and find its place tangled in his hair. Jungkook groans against your clit when your fingers grip tightly, yanking the dark strands as the prettiest moan flows out of you.

“J-just like that, fuck,” you whimper, finally lifting your head up to stare down at him when he latches his lips around your clit and sucks. It sends a spark down your spine, stomach tensing at his rhythm, fully intent to have you fall apart.

Jungkook wants to push you over the edge, knows he’s talented enough to get you there in record time—he was cocky in the best way—and the way your thighs tremble as he slowly sinks his finger into you proves his point. The slick coating your entrance allows a second finger to slip through with little resistance, a shuddering breath filling the air as he begins to spread his fingers apart, stretching you out in the most delicious way.

It’s not until his fingers curl up, rubbing along the sweet patch inside of you and you moan out his name, that he realizes he has you right where he wants you. He can’t get himself to look up at you, to see the way your jaw drops as you plead for more. Jungkook knows if his eyes lock with yours too soon he’ll be too weak to be as cruel as he wants to be.

The pleasure blooms inside you, hips rolling up into his in a way he welcomes, smirk spreading onto his lips when your moans get breathier. He eats you out with determination set in his brows, not satisfied until you’re tightening around his fingers, thighs threatening to close in on either side of his head. The messy way he slurps against you sends you reeling, rutting up into him with need, the wet thump of his fingers blending in with your moans of his name.

“God, Jungkook, I’m gonna cum.” He believes you, eyes finally opening up to stare at you. The visual is enough to make his cock throb in his pants, your glassy eyed stare locked onto his, chest rising and falling in time with each choked breath. When he playfully winks at you, your walls pulse around him, seconds away from being pushed over the edge, and that’s when he pulls away.

The warm glow of your orgasm approaching, just about to crest, gets ripped away from you instantly. It makes you gasp, thighs twitching as your hips attempt to push up back towards his mouth, but he’s having none of that. His shiny lips smile up at you innocently, head tilted to slowly kiss your trembling thighs, chuckling at the small cry of frustration you let out.

“You taste good baby,” he hums, smooching the skin at the juncture of your thighs, circling around your clit without relieving the pressure you felt. The dull ache has your fingers releasing his hair in defeat, a frown etched onto your lips.

“Jungkook, that’s mean,” you pant, sitting up and resting on your elbows to properly stare at him.

“A little, but you deserved it don’t you think?” Jungkook didn’t want to tease you too much, he just wanted to get even for the past two weeks. “You could have had me between your thighs every single night if you would’ve said something soon, so I think you can be patient.”

A firm kiss is pressed to your swollen clit and it makes your whole body shudder, your head dropping back as you take a deep breath to control yourself. “I can’t be patient Kook,” you whine, head leveling back out to give him the most convincing stare you can muster. There's that crease between your brows that he likes when you pinch them together, hands gently raking through his hair, teeth pillowing out your lower lip as you bite down onto it.

“Please, you can torture me later if you want but not now.” Your words have him cocking up his brow, hands once again gripping the meat of your thighs before he crawls back up your body. The feeling of his chain dragging up your skin has you shivering, breath catching in your throat when he hovers inches above you once more.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth before his hand slips between your thighs again. A groan reaches his ears as his fingers circle your clit, covered in your arousal and his saliva, gliding with ease as he works you back to your ruined orgasm.

His lips find yours, swallowing down the moan you let out when he quickens his pace. You can taste yourself on his tongue, tangling with yours with more urgency than before, messy and desperate in a way that had more arousal gushing out of you. The earlier pleasure reignites inside you, your hands sliding around his neck to keep him close, kissing him with fervor, quiet moans and whimpers slipping past between each smack of your lips.

“Jungkook,” you barely manage to squeal, a few more flicks needed to finally push you over the edge. Your lips are slick with spit as you pull back, jaw slack as you lose yourself in the feeling, and Jungkook easily bookmarks this into his brain to go back to and daydream of whenever he’s bored at work. Your eyes are squeezed shut as the feeling flows through you, not able to see how Jungkook stares at you in awe.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, slowly pulling his hand away when you keen at the sensitivity, thighs twitching on the sheets as the pleasure rolls through you in waves. You’re looking up just in time to see him slip his messy fingers into his mouth, tongue licking them clean and savoring the taste of you. Just as he slides them back out, your fingers wrap around his wrist and lead them directly into your mouth, sinking onto them with your eyes locked on his own.

Jungkook’s cock jumps in its confines when you suck, tip of your tongue circling his fingertips before popping them back out with a smirk. There’s a brief moment of shock on his features before he’s jumping into action, quickly unbuttoning his jeans in haste that left you giggling on your sheets.

“What happened to patience?” you tease, laughing harder when he pauses with one foot stuck in the hole of his jeans, a playful glare thrown your way.

“Oh, now you want patience?” He kicks his pants the rest of the way off, slowly shuffling towards you as he stands beside the bed in just his boxers. Your hands make grabby motions for him, reaching for the waistband of his underwear to tug them down, licking your lips over as his cock springs out. It bobs in the air for a second, thick and heavy, precum collecting at the tip with the prettiest veins on the underside of it. Of course Jungkook and his pretty privilege would have a dick worthy of leaving you speechless.

Jungkook allows you to ogle at him, confidently wrapping his palm around the base of his cock, hissing slightly at the sensation as he looks down at it, allowing spit to accumulate behind his lips before a string of it escapes and lands right onto his length to help the glide of his palm. Your eyes widen at the sight, hand replacing his as he guides your motions, giving an experimental squeeze and enjoying how his abs tense up.

“I’ve been patient for a long time Y/N. You said you want me right?” You’re nodding instantly, eyes looking away from his shiny length to stare up at him. “How do you want me?”

“Jungkook, just get over here.” He doesn’t resist when you let go of his cock, hands gripping his arm to yank him back onto the bed in a clumsy heap. His legs are a tangled mess, nearly ramming his forehead with yours from the force, shared laughter filling the air as you situate yourself. Jungkook had pictured this a thousand times and this is exactly how he imagined it, full of soft kisses, hushed laughter and goofy smiles, playfulness mixed in with lust all coming together perfectly to make the two of you.

As he settles between your thighs, your sodden folds inches from his length, you can see the look on his face as his eyes glance in between both of your nightstands. Already knowing the question that was about to spill out, you beat him to the punch. “You don’t need one, if you don’t want to. I’m on birth control, and haven’t been with anyone since…” you trail off, not needing to specify.

Jungkook tries not to look too excited, really, but it’s hard. Every one of his lewd fantasies had involved being able to feel you entirely, and if your thoughts from that night were anything to go by, you definitely want the same. It takes him a second to speak, having to swallow properly to prevent himself from choking on his saliva and embarrassing himself in front of you. “I’m clean, I promise.”

“I trust you,” you smile, biting down onto your bottom lip as he fists his cock, slowly leading it to your dripping center. His free hand rests on your inner thigh, softly palming the skin as the head of his cock nudges against your entrance, pushing past the tight ring of muscles and into your heat. With his gaze locked down to where you connect, he sees inch by inch sink into you, finally bottoming out with a shared gasp.

Jungkook leans over you properly now, hand sliding up to lace with yours as the other rests beside your head, just taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of your velvety walls wrapped tightly around his cock. You welcome the stretch, the curve of his length inside you, how he cages you in with his body, eyes full of want staring directly at you, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze because he knows he can’t properly form a sentence right now.

“Fuck me, please.” With his hips pressed flush against yours, he’s slowly inching back, letting you get used to his size with each thrust. It doesn’t take long before he’s rearing back entirely, thrusting forward with a wet squelch, corner of his lips curling up into a smirk when you moan out his name. Your hand curls around his shoulder, fingers digging into his back to keep yourself steady from the force of his hips.

Each time the head of his cock would nudge against your bundle of nerves, your nails would sink into his skin, leaving half moon indents that left him groaning in pleasure. Jungkook hadn’t outright told you, but it had become increasingly obvious that he has a slight kink for pain, practically mewling above you as you scratch his back, fucking you with more determination than before.

“You feel so good,” he rasps, slotting his lips with yours in a messy kiss. The back of your headboard starts to rattle against the wall, bouncing back in time with his hips, and it brings you back to the filthy thoughts you had before. How often you’d hear the same sounds on the opposite side, mixing in with the sharpness of skin connecting together, and you want it. So badly.

“J-jungkook,” you breathe out, letting him pepper more kisses onto you, hips never slowing down. “Can you do something for me?” The tone you use, coated in sugar so sweet he couldn’t say no even if he wanted to.

“Anything.”

It’s hard to concentrate on anything else while his cock continues to fuck into you, turning your mind into mush each time he sunk all the way in. He can see the way you try to focus, eyes falling shut with the cutest pout on your kiss swollen lips, finally grabbing onto the reigns of your mind as you spit it out. “Wanna feel you—fuck—spank me, please.”

Only then do his hips slow down, cock throbbing inside of you, fighting the urge to cum before fulfilling your request. The only confirmation that he was agreeing, wholeheartedly, comes when he pulls out of you, moving too quickly for you to protest at the loss of contact. The room spins for a second as his hands grip onto your hips and flip you over with ease, palms gripping the globes of your ass and softly patting them with a chuckle.

“Of course baby,” he murmurs, hooking his arm underneath your stomach to haul you up onto your knees, allowing you to steady yourself before he’s sliding into you once again. The change in position has you keening, his cock sinking deeper than before, the wetness dripping out of you helping him maintain the earlier pace he had. Your hands fist the sheets beneath you, back arching in ecstasy as he hits your g-spot with precision, a tiny shriek of his name making him smile.

Jungkook keeps you on edge, strong hands gripping the skin of your hips tightly, mouth dropping open while he pants at the way you pulse around his cock, leaving it coated in your slick. His hand slides down to your ass, a gentle touch being your only warning before he’s pulling his hand back and delivering a swift slap to your skin. Your reaction is immediate, an unrestrained moan sounding like music to his ears. The sharp sting spreads directly to your core, your head bowing forward as you mentally beg him for more, your wish being granted seconds later when he repeats it on the other side.

If the wet sounds of his cock fucking you weren’t filthy enough, the added slap of his palm across your ass definitely topped it off. Jungkook had never seen you so needy, thighs coated in your arousal, gushing around him each time he spanked you until you were creaming his cock. The greedy way your walls suck him in, wanting him closer, deeper than ever, left him mesmerized.

His hand soothes the dull throb on your skin, a trembling breath reaching his ears as he leans over your back, lips kissing up your spine up until reaching your shoulder. Hot pants of breath hit your skin, making you shiver as his lips trail along the edge of your ear. “Feel good?”

“Y-yes,” you mewl, voice trembling from the pleasure, rutting your hips in time with his.

Jungkook’s way of love was a breath of fresh air for you, rough enough to exhilarate you, the force of his hips leaving you scrambling for purchase to prevent you from face planting onto the sheets, gripping onto your hair and tugging it back with enough force to make your body tingle. But it was intertwined with adoration, sweet praise whispered into your ear, lacing his fingers with yours to let you feel secure.

“You’re never getting rid of me baby,” he groans out. The low rasp in his voice makes you tremble, neck straining from his grip in your hair but the burn feels too good to pull away. His small confession has your heart skipping, eyes slipping shut to bask in the overwhelming feeling surrounding you.

“Good,” you manage to pant, “would never dream of it.” After four years of friendship, the beginning stages of getting to know each other, figuring out the right ways to flow with your different personalities, it's all out of the way now, so it’s incredibly easy for you to picture a steady future with him. The breakfast gossiping, shameless club outings, chaotic game nights with snacks thrown at each other, you want everything you already have with him and more. What you have, so rooted in sincerity, built off mutual respect for each other, blossoming into love so pure, you can’t imagine having this with anyone else.

“Y/N,” he gasps, the pulsing of your walls bringing him closer to his climax. “I’m close.”

You can only hum in agreement, burying your face into your pillow when he releases the grip he has in your hair, nipples rubbing against the sheets in time with his thrusts, the sensitivity sending sparks throughout you. Both his hands grip your hips again, dimpling the skin as he quickens his pace, the tantalizing roll of his hips intent to send you over before him. His eyes trail over the curve of your back, how you arch it further to feel more of him, sliding down to your ass, seeing the way it bounces back with each snap of his hips, how you weakly rut back onto him, pussy clamping around his length as your orgasm approached.

Jungkook slides his hand around you, trailing across your tummy before slipping between your thighs to the spot you needed him most. Even with your face buried in the sheets, the moan you let out is loud enough for Jungkook to hear perfectly, body shuddering as he flicks across your clit in tight circles.

“Kook, I’m cumming—fuck,” you shout out, white heat enveloping your body as you get sent over the edge. Your mind blanks for a minute, the intensity of your orgasm crashing over you so suddenly, making your limbs tense up while every nerve ending lights up. The only thing you can think of is him, chanting out your name while you pulse around him, sweet words coaxing you through your high, thumb rubbing along the skin of your hips as he never slows his pace.

As he fucks you through it, groaning out at how tight your walls are around him, you have to turn your head to gasp in a breath, face feeling hot from it all. You can feel how sweaty your skin has become, the back of your neck feeling sticky as your turn to get a glimpse of him, body still shuddering from the aftershocks.

Jungkook doesn’t have a care for his own volume now, moaning unabashedly as he pistons his hips into you with less grace than before. The soft mewls of overstimulation you let out just bring him closer to his release, thrusts getting sloppier as the pleasure takes over him.

“Fuck, baby-” he grunts out, mouth dropping open as he moans even louder, finally falling apart. He pushes further into you, head falling forward as his hips press flushed against your ass, warm spurts of his cum filling you up in a way that fulfills your dirtiest fantasies. A few more shallow thrusts has the two of you gasping, hearts pounding in your chests, coming down slowly as he finally stills.

A serene silence falls over you, the movie long turned off in the background, only the low glow of the television letting you know it was still on. With great hesitation, Jungkook finally pulls out of you, gulping when he sees the thick globs of cum spill from your core, dripping down your thighs before landing on the sheets in a sinful mess. Your sheets are well and truly ruined, Jungkook would honestly suggest tossing them in the trash judging by the damp spot directly beneath you.

With a small groan, you’re flopping fully onto your stomach, thighs no longer able to keep yourself up, the exhaustion creeping up on you. Jungkook chuckles when he hears you, soothing your back with a gentle massage. “You’re not sleeping in here babe.”

“Why not,” you slur, cheek pressed against your pillow, eyes already shut. All you wanted to do was lay here, preferably with his arms wrapped around you, but Jungkook clearly has other plans.

“Because it’s disgusting,” he laughs, giving you a few more seconds of rest before he’s moving around. The dip in the bed lets you know he’s gotten off, one eye peeking open to search for him, seeing him gathering his belongings from the floor.

“Where are you going?”

He shimmies back into his clothes with a grimace, gathering your own items before approaching you once more. “We are going next door and sleeping in my totally clean bed, c’mon.”

You only put up a fight for a second, secretly enjoying the way he helps you get dressed in your earlier clothes, heart swelling in your chest at how domestic it all feels. The mess in your room would have to be dealt with another day, the only important item being the ice cream that finds its way back into the freezer as you both head out of your apartment and swiftly enter his next door.

He’s just as delicate and careful in the shower, taking turns cleaning each other, large hands gripping your ass and giggling like a child when you wince at the small throb of pain you feel. Soft kisses are shared under the showerhead, warm water soothing your body as the room fogs up, sweet confessions scribbled on the glass in his messy writing, topped off with a heart. Jungkook stops you before you can wipe it away, shyly telling you that he’d like to see it reappear the next time he showers.

His bedroom was one you weren’t too familiar with, used to lounging in his living room the most, so as he settles into his bed after getting cozy in his pajamas, you wait for him to call you over before joining him. The coolness of his sheets has you sighing, snuggling into his side with a smile on your lips, one that Jungkook sees as he stares down at you before pressing a kiss to your forehead. Seeing you draped in his clothes, cuddled up beside him in a way you’ve never done before, makes him feel like a giddy teenager.

“Can I be honest?” he wonders, arm wrapping around you to pull you even closer to him. When you hum in confirmation, he laughs sheepishly. “I thought you were going to friendship dump me today.”

“What, why?”

Your head bobs up as he shrugs his shoulders. “The way you were acting reminded me of the last time you told me you wanted to focus on your relationship. I was just scared I was going to lose you again.”

The tone he uses makes your heart ache, the same guilt you felt these past few days coming back when you put yourself in his shoes. You had no idea that the way you were acting would affect him this way, never once imagining that he thought you would cut off this friendship while you were just coming to terms with the fact that you harbored strong feelings for him.

“Jungkook, I’m sorry,” you sigh, palm resting on his chest, feeling each beat of his heart, no longer racing like before, confident and steady in it’s pace because he knows you’re not going anywhere. “I’m stupid, and freaked out after what I did, and just needed to gather my thoughts before saying anything.”

He cranes his head away from you, a confused look on his face. “After what you did? What did you do?”

Fuck.

“Uhm,” you start with a strained laugh, refusing to look up at him out of embarrassment, but the truth has to come out so you power through it. “So, the night of the date, I sort of got home earlier than I told you I did.”

His eyes narrow at you, refusing to give anything away before he knew where this was going. “Okay, go on.”

“And I sort of heard you through the walls.” You look up at him now, your guilty stare spelling it out for him. His eyes widen before he can conceal his surprise, cheeks warming up instantly because oh boy, he knew exactly where this was going. “And then, I sort of...joined.”

“You lied to me!” he shouts, shocked smile on his face as he recalls the way you had replied to his texts, telling him you had just gotten home and going the extra mile to say you were in a totally different room when in reality, you were sprawled out in your bed after just getting off to the sound of him.

Filthy. And also kind of hot. Jungkook was definitely into that, something he’ll totally proposition you into doing again because why not.

“I know! I couldn’t help it, it was so hot, and I felt so guilty. But, you’re technically the reason why my orgasm gave me my epiphany and let me realize I really do like you. So, I think I did us both a favor by being a dirty liar.” He’s laughing instantly, fingers gripping your cheeks to turn your head up, planting a firm kiss onto your lips obnoxiously.

“Alright, you’re forgiven. Plus, consider us even because I have definitely heard you getting off on your own plenty of times too.” A squeal of surprise fills the air as you swat at his chest, burying your face into his shirt and feeling the rumble of his laughter. It really wasn’t ever intentional. The walls are thin, you weren’t exactly quiet, and he couldn’t just lay there and ignore it. So call him an opportunist, or a pervert, because you were one too.

Jungkook is cheeky though, knowing how to get under your skin in the best way, and you can already tell you’re in for a ride when he gets close to your ear and whispers, “You wanna show me how you did it?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you snort, peering up at him with mischief in your eyes.

“You did say I could torture you later.” He smiles innocently, fingers pinching your chin as he kisses you again. “It’s later.”

The sweet laughter that escapes you makes his heart skip a beat, still not able to come to terms that this was happening and wasn’t some dream of his that he’d wake up from. He kisses the tops of your cheeks first, then your nose, before reaching your lips, his hand gently caressing your skin. Jungkook had no intention of torturing you tonight, knowing how tired you typically were after work on a normal day, and after drawing two orgasms out of you that left you shaking, he knows how close you are to sleep with the way your eyes droop.

“Aren’t you glad you didn’t give up on crushes and love?” he mumbles against your lips, inching back to stare down at you.

“I’m glad I stopped looking for it in the wrong places.” Your hands wrap around his neck, toying with his hair before pulling him back to you, reattaching your lips because you just couldn’t seem to get enough of him.

Every single moment you shared, from moving in and awkwardly trying to get to know each other, the ups and downs of failed relationships, the push that started it all at the club, and every almost moment in between brought you full circle to right now. There probably won’t be a moment where you don’t wish you had done this sooner, worked past your worry of ruining a good friendship in fear of what could happen, but the past helped mold you into who you are, strengthening your relationship to be the way it is now.

Right now had you thinking of the future, and there was nothing more exciting than that.

#jungkook smut #heartsforbts #btswritingcafe #btsghostie #bangtansorciere #bangtaninn #btscreatorscorner #jeongguk smut #jeon jungkook #bts smut #jungkook fluff #new

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Misread Affections - Laszlo Kreizler/Fem!Reader SMUT

I started at midnight. I had 0 words. It’s 4:30am. I have 4643 words because I have fallen deeply for Doctor Laszlo Kreizler. Forgive me for this.

Synopsis: With all your history together, you and Doctor Kreizler believe you understand each other. Yet when you believe him to be infatuated with Karen Stratton, and he believes you to have affection for Marcus Isaacson, you’re both stunned when you find yourselves to be proven wrong.

Warnings: NSFW. Desk Sex. Dirty Talk. Patient-to-Friend-to-Lover. Definite depression and general self-loathing.

SPOILERS FOR THE SECOND SEASON!!!!!!

You had always admired the man Doctor Laszlo Kreizler was.

He championed those who could not champion themselves. He worked tirelessly to understand the minds of criminals. To those very same criminals, and many others that lived as outcasts to society, he would offer kindness and understanding. At his best he was beyond intelligent and, daresay, sweet.

At his worst, he was ruthless, and his own self-loathing would have him come across as unempathetic most days. While preaching to others to care for himself, he would often forego his own care. While offering an ear and a receptive mind, he would refuse to offer himself the same.

You knew this within mere days of knowing Doctor Kreizler. And such facts made you rather fond of him.

A fondness that was not helped by his handsome build, his dark locks, his scrutinizing gaze.

And yet no part of you could justify ever acting upon this fondness.

You had come to him both as a patient and a colleague. You had always been aware of a darkness within yourself, ever since you were a child. This darkness had only grown, too often all-consuming, leaving you. a dysfunction wreck of a human being. However, you had an obligation to keep going, a promise you had sworn to your sister to continue your own existence. So, exist you did.

While your family’s fortune wasn’t enough to send you to Harvard, like the Doctor himself, it did allow for you to be a reasonably educated woman of the times. A deep fascination in understanding your own darkness led you to the work of alienists, and eventually to the work of Doctor Kreizler.

While you couldn’t often justify breaking societal rules to such an extent, you found yourself motivated enough to call upon the Doctor with a proposition – should he aide you in understanding your own illness of the brain, you would offer any services you could to the Kreizler Institute.

You could tell he was curious of you. A woman of your standing did not often make such demands with such authority, nor so blatantly admit to her own illnesses. He quickly agreed, eager to study why you considered yourself so damaged, and happy to take on an extra set of hands with the children he looked after.

Over time, you begun to slip effortlessly into Doctor Kreizler’s life.

You met the likes of Cyrus and Stevie, along with many others that worked at the Institute. You were then blown away by the strength within Miss Sara Howard, and the pure, undiluted love that Mister John Schuyler Moore could show others. You were even called upon on several occasions to be a fresh set of eyes, the murders of young boy prostitutes and kidnappings of babies not deterring you, to the surprise and reluctant joy of the Doctor.

And as Doctor Kreizler studied you, you studied him.

You slowly learned of all the emotion he kept hidden behind the façade of professionalism. The kindness, the love, the anger, the fear. While he showed none of these most days, occasionally a concoction of such feeling would burst in an overwhelming outpour.

In offering him a platonic safe space, a place for him to talk through such outbursts should he wish, he in turn aided you.

The darkness you felt for so long began to subside some days, and between the efforts of him and a passing remark from John, you learned of an outlet for your darker thoughts – writing.

While expressing your own emotions and turmoil did not come easy, you found it far simpler when written down on paper, as opposed to spoken aloud to a judging room.

Doctor Kreizler gifted you a beautiful leather-bound journal a mere day after this revelation, with the request that you record your thoughts. He promised he would not read it unless you requested him to as an act of therapy.

For many days, you allowed him to read any thoughts that came to mind.

Thoughts of blood, of death, of pain and anger. Thoughts of a stolen childhood, of worthlessness, of longing.

Many days when he read your pages, you would be silently crying as he did, fearful of his judgement. But it never came.

Instead, he would close the book silently, and offer you professional advice.

One particularly rough day, in which your narrative was beyond vicious to you, he closed the book before finishing, and offered you something you didn’t expect – an embrace.

He hugged you so tightly, that for once…

Your inner monologue ceased.

His own, however, raged on.

How could you think so lowly of yourself, he wondered? While he could understand mindsets built from trauma, he couldn’t help but wish you could see yourself through his own eyes. Your empathy when you cared for the children in the Institute. Your intelligence when conversing with Miss Howard. Your artistic delight when laughing with John. And the perspective, the warmth you offered such a broken man such as himself.

Neither of you knew, in that exact moment, that the other was realizing the fondness you both held in your hearts for each other.

And neither of you knew how truly broken the other felt at their core.

Two souls, believing themselves to be undeserving of love, finding it in their hearts for the other.

When the beautiful, cunning Doctor Karen Stratton entered the picture, you asked Doctor Kreizler to refrain from reading your journal.

He was hurt by this, but profession and courtesy claimed that he could not show it.

You began to withdraw from him, placing your entire focus on the case of the stolen babies and your focus on the children in the Institute. Kreizler, in his own difficulties of potentially losing the said Institute, took notice of your own withdrawal from your sessions, but held enough hope that you had found stability to care for yourself. You still conversed with Sara, you smiled with John. You had even been introduced to the Isaacsons, and he had wondered if you had taken a liking to Marcus.

You deserved a young man such as him, he told himself, heart heavy. A whole, young man with enough strength to support you.

And on the night of Marcus’ death, he believed it to be confirmed.

He found you alone, in his study where you so often had your sessions with him. You were curled inwards on yourself, clutching your journal as though it were your lifeline, sobbing uncontrollably.

He moved to console you, arms holding you tightly.

“It’s all too much,” you choked out, unable to articulate much more.

Doctor Kreizler nodded, waiting for you to be able to go on.

You regained some breath with difficulty. “I just…I can’t stand to lose a friend. Not after everything else lately.”

“I know how difficult it can be, to lose one you love…” Kreizler began, not noticing how your sobs stopped in confusion. “After Mary, I…Well I swore I would never again…The point is, I-“ he stopped short.

You had spluttered out a laugh.

Your hand covered your mouth immediately, noticing what had just happened. You immediately moved to cover it up, wiping away your tears and standing up away from him. “No, no, Doctor. Heavens, Marcus…well, he was loved but, I saw…I see the Isaacsons as brothers I never had. He was dear to me but…not in the sense I suspect that Mary was to you.”

“I…see…” Doctor Kreizler pulled back, sitting in his study chair as he gazed at you. “Apologies, I seem to have misread your relationship. Nonetheless, his death has greatly affected you, as it has all of us. I suspect it will be a very difficult grieving process, but…” he manages a soft, rare smile that warmed your heart. “We will endure it together, as we have these cases.”

“Will we?” your voice grew empty as your thoughts swirled.

He titled his head, unsure of where this was leading. You gathered your courage to question him.

“Rumour has it, Doctor Stratton has asked you to join her in Vienna. I wonder if you’ll go.”

Silence falls over the room.

Laszlo couldn’t understand what this had to do with anything. Your crying, your distress over Marcus. What did his leaving have to do with any of your distress?

“You’re greatly upset by something,” he eventually said, gazing at you with a more analytical eye than before. “I’m afraid you give me too much credit, if you think I know the specifics of it.”

“I-“ you stopped, clearing your throat as you choked up. Your knuckles turned white on your journal’s edges, hands shaking. “Doctor Kreizler-“

“It’s been months since we’ve known each other,” he interrupts, “and we haven’t held a session together in nearly five weeks. Would it pain you to call me Laszlo? Are we not…friends?”

You gaped at him, but his face remained unreadable.

You shake your head. “Yes, it…it would pain me. It would pain me a great deal, Doctor – it does pain me a great deal to hear you call me a friend when…”

“When what?” he prompts you sharply, and you inhale quickly.

“When I feel I’ve been dishonest with you, unkind to you…” had the room not been dead still, Laszlo might have missed the next words you whispered. “I feel I’ve been perverse to you.”

If he was confused, he didn’t show it. And you were talking now, the words spilling out, a cascade unable to end.

“I feel as though…had Marcus not…died…tonight, I might never have done this. But then my mind, it began spinning so quickly I couldn’t stop it, and I couldn’t help but imagine countless scenarios in which Libby, in which the Dusters, in which…well, in which any number of causes might take your life as well. In which you might die before…before I can confess…” You huff, your words getting caught once again. With a determined move, your arm shot out to pass your journal to him, and Kreizler takes note of a particular page being creased.

He looks up at you, but you don’t meet his eye.

“I’ve marked where I want you to start reading. Just…go from there. Inform me when you’re finished.”

You walk over to the window, desperate to be distracted, as Doctor Kreizler opens the book and reads at your request.

He can’t comprehend what he’s reading at first.

While he had grown accustomed to your twisted perception of yourself, he hadn’t realized just how ruthless the self-loathing could take you. Endless doubt of your friendships with the team, with your position as a caretaker, in your abilities to be a friend. And as words continue, he realizes your doubts in being a partner, a lover.

If he grows flustered at the words he reads, he’s determined not to show it to you.

He reads your envy of women like Sara Howard, able to move forward with such strength and certainty, and of Karen Stratton, so brash, so forward. Your envy is strong towards her, in her abilities to understand sexuality, passion, human desire, and in…

In her connection to himself.

His eyes widen as your own ramblings seem to uncover a truth you hadn’t explored before – your attraction to the Doctor that had aided you, offered you employment. The pure taboo of such affections, yet your inability to stop it. Your adoration, your admiration for the intimidating, raw man that he was. How you felt unworthy, that you would hold him back, that he deserved a woman as delightful as Doctor Stratton, a woman who could stimulate him academically, that could pleasure him physically. How you felt so deeply ashamed of harbouring such elicit fantasies of the man that had been nothing but kind to you. How you loved him so deeply it made you want to die, because you would never be deserving –

You heard the journal snapping shut, and you couldn’t bring yourself to face the Doctor, knowing what he must’ve read, dreading what he must now be thinking.

The silence lasted far longer than you would’ve liked, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak.

“I find myself taken aback more often than I like,” Kreizler’s voice shatters the still air. “I believe myself to be so wise, so understanding of the mind, and yet I come across a mind such as yours that I…I truly cannot fathom how you think what you think.”

“I’m sorry,” you start, voice breaking as tears begin to flow again.

You nearly jump out of your skin when you feel a hand on your own. You don’t dare to turn around, frozen like a rabbit having been sniffed out by a hound.

“You think me to be attracted to Doctor Stratton, am I correct?”

You nod. Of course, he was. Was it not obvious?

“Karen and I are colleagues, and friends, should I be too bold to assume so. I can recognize that she is a physically beautiful woman, yes, and I’m sure some day she will make a man a very happy husband, should she wish. But her and I have a kinship, a partnership, not unlike what I believe you and Marcus might have had, that I too misinterpreted as love.”

You sniff, closing your eyes tightly. What was he trying to tell you?

Doctor Kreizler spins you around slowly, leading you to face him.

“I do not harbour half the affection in my heart for Doctor Stratton as I do for you.”

You freeze. “Doctor-“

“Please,” he reaches up to cup your face, wiping away several of the tears that had fallen. “Please call me Laszlo. You are not the only one to have an epiphany after the loss of our friend, my dear. If you are being so honest with me, I feel it only right to offer you the same.”

“Laszlo…” you whisper, meeting his eyes for the first time since he read your words. His heart breaks with the pain within them. “How can you do this? Look at me, hold me, when you see how broken I am? I’m undeserving-“

“You would choose to love, to care for a cripple, a shell of a man in the eyes of society. A man who has too often neglected the children he cares for, often spat in the face of those he dares to call his friends. If either of us is undeserving of the other’s love, my dear, it’s me.”

Your brows furrow angrily, reaching up to mirror him, cupping his own face with both of yours. “Laszlo Kreizler you stop that right now, I won’t hear any more of…you’re smiling. How could you be smiling?”

He leans into one of your hands affectionately, a rare, dashing smile lighting up his features in a way you cherished to see, despite the circumstances. “Perhaps we are both wrong. Perhaps…perhaps we need each other, to use each other’s eyes and hearts to understand who we truly are. We both have such lowly opinions of ourselves but…perhaps it was meant to be.”

Your own smile was beginning to form, despite your best efforts, as your brain’s screaming of all that could go wrong began to quieten.

“I hesitate to believe in fate, Doctor…” you trail off, taking a step closer, your heart filled with hope and eyes filled with wonder. “I hesitate further to admit to needing someone, and yet…my brain is only ever kind and quiet when I’m around you.”

Laszlo’s weaker arm rests on your hip, while the thumb of the hand caressing your face moves to trace your chin. “My language is not as…poetic, as yours, my dear,” he confesses, and you both chuckle, “but I very much would like to kiss you, with your permission.”

“Laszlo, you could do anything to me,” you confess, reaching forward to finally meet his lips.

It’s messy, and uncoordinated, but any lack of experience the pair of you may have is made up for by the pure, electric eagerness that overtakes the both of you. You’re both exploring, testing each other, in some give and take dance that does not seem to quell any emotions within you, instead quite the opposite.

You could kiss him forever, you quickly realize.

But by some cruel twist of fate, you have to pull away, air taking priority.

You stare wildly at him as he breathes heavily, eyes darker than you had ever seen, with a sense of uncertainty that you hadn’t ever seen about him before.

A teasing smile finds its way onto your face, as you can’t help but test your luck.

“How far, exactly, did you read in my book?”

He blinks at you a couple of times, uncertain of your line of questioning. “I read of your jealousy, of your shame, I don’t…I don’t believe I finished it all, I found I had to address the issue before I continued –“

“Would you like to know what else was in there?”

Laszlo appeared flustered as you led him back to his plush chair, and you knelt down between his legs to pick up the book that had fallen to the ground. You don’t offer it to him, however, instead putting it aside.

“My dear, I don’t –“

“I ask you to stop me, if my advances are too…forward to you, Laszlo.”

You slowly rise from your place, moving to lift your skirts so you might position yourself above the Doctor, straddling him in his chair. As if on its own accord, his good hand rises to situate on your waist tightly. You gently grasp his weaker hand, his “broken wing”, and lift it to your mouth, delicately kissing the palm, each finger.

Laszlo mutters your name, transfixed by your mouth’s movements.

“I would love every part of you,” you begin, continuing your assault of affection as you whisper against the part of him, he views as most broken. “I would care for you in every capacity in which I’m capable. I would strive to be deserving of you in every which way.” You drop his hand and lean forward, hands grasping the back of the chair as you hold his gaze. “I would have you claim every part of me, I would have your marks for the world to see, if you wished. I’ve dreamt of you and I in the most compromising positions that I dare not say, on nearly every surface of your study, my bedroom, the Institute. I would give you every single piece of me, Laszlo, every ounce of my attraction. I would give you my darkest sins and my deepest pleasure, if you would allow me too. Please, Doctor Kreizler, let me please you.”

You didn’t know what you were expecting from your confession.

Perhaps you wondered if he would push you away, exclaiming that your desires were too much, your words too sinful, and that he would cease associations with you immediately. Perhaps you thought he would scold you for being too wanton, too unbecoming of a woman of your standing. Perhaps you hoped the worst that would happen is he would kiss you softly and instruct that you both go to bed in separate rooms, that more carnal needs could be discussed at a later date.

Never in your wildest dreams did you expect to feel Laszlo shift and harden beneath you, eyes growing so dark they were nearly completely black, and have him reach his hand to curl around the back of your neck.

And you certainly didn’t expect the deep growl that escaped him as his lips, tongue, and teeth clashed with yours frantically, animalistically.

Neither of you had experience, you both knew this.

But you both knew what you wanted, what you needed, and that would be enough to motivate you.

You both took what you could, Laszlo leaving your lips to reach what he could of your neck, lavishing it with lips and tongue. He explored expertly, quickly learning what you liked based upon the quickening of your breath, of your pulse. What was left of his analytical mind was fascinated by the chain reaction of events, how you spurred each other on.

When he nipped at your ear, your hips rolled uncontrollably, and a rough groan escaped him unconsciously.

Fascinating indeed.

He panicked slightly when you stood, wondering if he had stepped too far. The panic raised as you strode across his study, heading quickly to the door.

“Wait, my dear, I-“

“Calm down, Laszlo,” you hushed him, and he heard a loud click of the door locking from where he sat. “I merely don’t wish to be interrupted. If this is still what you wish.”

He leans back in his chair, breathing heavily, observing you as you stand once again before him. “I should be asking you what you want, my darling.”

You grin, shaking your head. “Was my speech before not enough for you to know what I want, Doctor Kreizler? Can you not infer exactly what I want from you from the writings in my journal? It’s your turn to share, else I might just leave you like this.”

His good hand involuntarily juts forward, grasping yours desperately.

“Don’t you dare.”

You giggle, and he smiles at the sound.

“Then, tell me what you wish, Doctor.”

“I wish…” he trails off, watching as your hands move upward to begin slowly undressing yourself.

“Yes?” You prompt him teasingly, continuing your motions. “Don’t mind me.”

Laszlo shifts in his chair, erection clearly visible by the bulge in his slacks. “I…I wish…” his voice trails off again as his eyes take in every inch of your skin that’s uncovered. “I wish to be with you in every manner. Intellectually, spiritually, physically. I wish to connect with you in a way I never will with any other living creature on this Earth. I wish to feel you around me, to bring you to climax. I wish to fill you, to be yours, to fuck you, to make you Mrs. Kreizler…”

He stops at that, only becoming aware of his own ramblings you straddled him once again, completely nude.

The faintest voice in his head wondered if you made him stupid, but it was silence as his eyes took you in completely.

“You are the most gorgeous specimen I’ve ever been graced with seeing, my love.”

You pull him in to a languid kiss, gently tasting each other as your hand travels down his chest.

“You speak of love, of my being Mrs. Kreizler…” you start, almost losing your train of thought as you feel him twitch beneath you, your hips rolling to meet his. “Another day I’ll ask you to remind me of those words. But for now…” you lean forward, mouth grazing his ear, causing him to shiver. “I need you to fuck me, Doctor Laszlo Kreizler.”

For all of your faith in him, you don’t expect the next feat of strength.

With only his good arm he manages to lift the pair of you from the chair, quickly placing you upwards and onto the desk of his own study, mindless of the papers underneath you, of any others that might be in the building as you shriek in surprise.

He captures your mouth with his, more forceful, captivating, as his good hand explores your form, grasping both of your breasts before heading downwards to the warmth between your thighs. His fingers collect some of the wetness that had escaped your folds and examines it with an almost mocking scientific fascination.

“Is this all for me, my darling?” he questions, and you find yourself at a loss for words as he curiously lifts his fingers to his mouth, his tongue slowly tasting you off of them.

“Fuck, Laszlo,” you whisper, reaching forward to pull him in for a kiss again as he chuckles darkly against you.

His teasing ends when your hands wander downward, now working at the buttons of his slacks frantically, your palm grazing across his length through his pants, causing him to gasp.

“My God,” he pants out, and you pull him out of his slacks. He’s hard, warm, rigid in your palm, with veins and girth that you hadn’t imagined in any of your fantasies, but was now all you could imagine filling you, ending that emptiness that you felt.

“Please,” you whimper, and he gently removes your hand, before lining his cock up with your entrance.

He meets your eyes, checking one last time to ensure this was what you wanted.

“Laszlo, please –“your begging is cut short as he breaches you slowly, pushing his full weight forward as the pair of you connect.

It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt.

A tantalizing combination of pleasure and pain, your mind repeating an endless mantra of “Laszlo”, which you realize, when he’s fully inside, flush against you, that you’re muttering out loud.

“Oh, my love,” he breathes, his damaged arm lightly resting on your thigh, his other gripping your hip so tightly you knew there would be marks.

“You feel so right,” you mindlessly breathe, and you can’t help but moan at the feeling of him twitching inside you at the comment. You would remember that he likes praise, but…

“I don’t know that I will last long, my love,” Laszlo warns, his voice low, gravely, warm against your neck as he buries his face into it, pressing kisses into the skin of your shoulder.

It crosses your mind that you’re completely nude and he’s fully clothed, but the thought fills you with warmth rather than disappointment.

“Nor will I, but this will happen again, won’t it?” you question, a hint of doubt crossing your voice.

The Doctor silences it immediately, kissing you deeply. “Every night, every hour if you would let me, my darling. You are so wonderful…”

“Then please, fuck me Laszlo. I want to cum, I want you to fill me, I – oh!”

The first snap of his hips was relentless, and it was only more intense from there.

He was strong, sure of his movements, chasing his own pleasure and encouraging yours as much as he could, pressing kisses into your neck, your breasts, your lips, his good hand finding your hair tightly. Broken moans left you as dark, rasping breaths escaped him, and it was all too soon before you felt your peak approaching, familiar with the sensation from lonely nights with your own hand curiously working against yourself.

“Laszlo, Doctor Kreizler, I-“ at your moaning of his title, something in him snapped, and his teeth sunk into where your neck met your shoulder.

A deep cry left you as you reached your climax, a white-hot rush waving over you.

As your cunt clenched around him, Laszlo lost himself, growling his native German tongue as he lost his rhythm, heat filling you as he came.

You two didn’t have much time to come down from your highs, as the door to his home could be heard opening and closing from the floors below.

“Doctor Kreizler?” Sara Howard could be heard calling.

Your eyes wide, you rushed to put yourself back together, close wrinkled, roughly thrown back on and your hair being a wreck. You hoped you could pass it off as merely the result of a rough day, an intense mental break.

You turned to Kreizler, who was a picture of perfection, seeming to not be rattled by the events before…almost.

“Back to the case…?” he trailed off, his voice filled with uncertainty, and you smiled fondly at the terribly awkward, intelligent man before you.

You step forward and kiss him softly, the warmth between your legs and bruises on your thigh a reminder of what had just occurred.

“Back to the case. We can continue our escapades when it’s all over, Doctor.”

He chuckles, confidence returning to him as he nods. “I look forward to it.”

#x reader smut #laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler imagine #Laszlo kreizler fanfic #smut #godpleaseletmerest #Ineedsleep

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peace-for-levi · 2 years

Text

Pediatrician!Levi x GN!Reader Headcanons/Scenario

Warnings: apart from mentioning a case of depression within a teenager, none!

I’ll try to make this as detailed yet as concise as possible, I tend to run away with myself sometimes, haha!

You were recently taken aboard at this new pediatrics clinic by none other than Dr. Ackerman himself. You had done a bit of work experience a few years back when you did rotations but when it came around to specializing, you always found yourself drawn to children.

And perhaps drawn to your now boss too, but let’s not speak of that.

Was it because he was so good with kids, despite his cold-looking exterior, or was it the neatness of his office/clinic or was it just him in general? Either way, you knew it was inappropriate.

But how could you resist yourself when on your first day he remembered your coffee/tea order from years ago and handed it to you with a, “welcome aboard, [F/n].”

Yeah, perhaps it was just him.

Dr. Levi Ackerman typically wore his white coat and encouraged you to do the same, just for professionalism. He wasn’t opposed to you just wearing something formal to work with a stethoscope around your neck either as he sometimes would just don black slacks and a navy button-up shirt. Stethoscope always stayed around the neck though.

Sometimes he’d walk into a shop on his lunch break with the device still around his neck.

He showed you the ropes and you were given your own office within the building for your own clients, but sometimes Levi would sit in on you and show you how to do things. You knew how to do everything but having someone who had years of hands-on experience was always so helpful.

But yes, as it may shock people, Levi is wonderful with kids, and you would love to know where this comes from, especially since Levi sometimes looked like he’d snap at a moment’s notice. But he handled babies with care, he had a special ritual (you can't tell me he isn't good with kids) in distracting babies when giving them inoculations and he was always there to talk to the parents afterwards who were new to parenthood. He even let toddlers and young kids play with his stethoscope and let it use it on him first in case they were scared.

“Come here,” he instructed the parents. He had a gloved finger in a small baby’s mouth and he was showing the parents everything in fine detail. The baby suckled away on his finger and played with the index finger of his other hand. “You’re looking for this kind of latch. But don’t be disheartened if it doesn’t happen right away, or if it hurts.”

Also very kind to mothers who are still emotional and going through the wild hormonal changes right after birth. He might leave this one to you so that you get experience (especially if you’re a girl, what with bonding with someone who is also a girl) but he listens intently to their woes even if they are seemingly nonsensical. He is well versed in PPD and knows how it can be potentially dangerous if left untreated or left fester.

“If you are feeling that your mood is making it hard to bond with your child, then it is absolutely imperative you get on top of this. Either via therapy, medication, a combination of the two. But there is no shame in this. It’s okay. Your body has just changed so much in the nine months and this is your new normal and it is a lot to take in.”

Levi’s voice was always so soft when speaking to new mothers. You just knew the man was so gentle with his hands when handling their infants too, and could hide the moodiness very easily around them.

Very open-minded doctor when needed which was always nice to see. If a mother couldn’t breastfeed or was simply mentally not in the right headspace for it, he would never bash her. At the same time, he also had no problem arranging appointments with a lactation specialist. If she wanted to do strictly formula, that is totally okay with him too.

Always around in his clinic if you need a second opinion. Very helpful like that.

A few months into working here was when Levi initiated his competition of sorts. Whenever either of you was finished with a young patient, they had to pick a sticker from the sticker roll and place it on your white coat.

“What’s the reward?” you asked him.

“The winner decides.” He answers and heads back into his office.

And so the games began. Every morning, one of you would have coffee/tea prepared for the other person and you’d go off to collect stickers. Occasionally he’d invite you in to watch him deal with a client so that you can pick up some experience and know-how. You couldn’t tell if this was to make you get less stickers or not.

There was one patient and mother that always stuck out to you. A sixteen year old struggling from what the mother called “moodiness” but Levi was quick to note that it probably was something far deeper.

“It’s because of their damn phone!” The mother complained aloud when Levi suggested her teenager may be struggling with depression. Levi heaved a sigh and turned around on his swivel chair after the physical exam, trying to ignore the mother's comment. It wasn't appreciated or factual.

“There are two categories to this. There is a more natural approach, what he and you can do together to combat this and there is the other category: medication. Sometimes both are needed. We have good and bad days, but we want to make sure the good days happen more.” He explained as calmly as he could.

But when the mother continued to complain about her child, Levi was quick to give a stern look to her. You learned then and there that he hated being corrected by parents who probably didn’t know the ins and outs of their own child, or weren’t going to take their issues seriously. He was also there to stand up for the kids who couldn’t do it themselves.

“Do you honestly think you’re helping? Have you ever considered for a damn second that your son likes his phone as a distraction from whatever is going on at home?” he asked, not wanting to outwardly point the blame at the parent. “Access to social media 24/7 is definitely a factor - teenagers constantly want to look and perform a certain way. Technology is just so feasible and accessible and we are so open and vulnerable to constant criticism, it’s no wonder this generation and younger generations are depressed. It’s easy to blame phones. But we have to look at other factors. You’re also not giving him a damn second to speak to me. I’ve only heard you speak.”

You weren’t quite sure if you would ever have the gall to stand up to a parent like that. Levi was quick to stand up and send the mother out of the room. The patient was sixteen and was in this intermediary age group where their guardian didn’t have to be present in the room if the child didn’t want to. He also made you go on his computer and search up counselling services in the area as he continued to speak to the child.

Once he was finished, he handed him a roll of stickers and asked him to place it anywhere on his coat. You noticed they were half way up the inside of his white coat. You were definitely losing!

“Can you give one to my colleague, [F/n], too? Hand them a sticker.”

You had to fight with all your might to not smile then and there.

You got a Spiderman sticker and Levi got a Princess Peach. Naturally, these became nicknames for you both in either person’s phone.

Towards the end of the year, Levi stopped supervising you but always needed updates on your sticker progress. Levi had won, as expected.

“Okay, so what are you doing for your prize?” you asked him.

“Get coffee with me.”

“Levi, we get takeaway coffee nearly every morning.”

“I mean, come with me after work and we’ll sit at a, uh, you know-- a cafe, of sorts, and we’ll, er, sit, and, er--”

Your cheeks dusted a light pink as you stared back at his terrible attempt at asking you out for coffee, and not just the nasty, cheap coffee.

“Can I choose the café?” you asked.

“Tch. You kidding? I collected the most stickers.”

And so, that evening, you waited for him outside his office and walked to this cafe in question. Only this time he made the bold attempt at linking your fingers with his.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi #husbando tag <3 #cece; levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #cece; writing #snk #aot #snk x you #aot x you #snk x reader #aot x reader

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