#also a crime against graphic design

[bunnyreaper]

𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖘 𝔞 𝔰𝔬𝔞𝔭 𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝖕𝖙 1 — 𝖕𝖙 2 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 wc - 5.7k warnings - 18+/nsfw, dom sub dynamic, eventual romance/smut, medium burn? notes - first part of my owner!soap x pet!reader, woohoo! i already regret writing something centered around texting and calling lmao, crying!! the formatting is killing me!! anyway, also on ao3! and if you wanna send a request, pls do! ♥

Lonely girl looking for owner. 

Posting on this subreddit again was probably a mistake—but a deep-down part of you clings to the hope that this time will be the time you find someone, the time you get to go home to him. 

At least this time, you'll be better at spotting the signs right off the bat—if only you can take off the rose-tinted glasses long enough to take note.

Your inbox is flooded with the usual kinds of messages—unsolicited pictures, low-effort one-sentence wonders, and so-called doms jumping straight to the part where they call you a nasty whore with no actual consideration for the person you are. 

You're just about to give up, delete the post, and ignore all chat requests when a message arrives in your inbox. 

From: squeakycleanscot 

Subject: Lonely guy looking for girl

Hi,

Saw your post and knew I had to message. You sound like everything I'm looking for and more.

I'm a little younger than the age you put on your post, but I think I fit your other requirements. I'm 27, Scottish (yes, with the accent), and in the army, I hope that's a turn-on rather than a turn-off.

When I'm not deployed, I like cosy nights in, preferably with my love by my side. Don't mind a night at the pub either, especially if there's a Celtic match on, not that anywhere near here shows them. 

I'm looking for something longer term like you mentioned (would love to collar my girl one day, which is probably ironic considering I'm a wee bit scared of dogs.)

Happy to send a picture if you'd like :) 

Hope to hear from you soon, 

Johnny.

Johnny. 

You reread the message, turning his words over in your mind. 

Something about his message has your attention—it at least suggests he has a brain in his head and a heart capable of empathy, and that maybe he's serious. 

You begin typing your reply instantly, your fingers moving so fast you have to type and retype so many parts to rid the message of all of the overexcited mistakes.

hi johnny, 

scottish?! is it bad im already imagining how your dirty talk will sound? 

it's funny, i always wanted to join the army growing up, but it never worked out. maybe it's for the best as now i'm not immune to enjoying a hot man in uniform... which I'm assuming you are ;) 

cosy nights in are my favourite too! I'm a bit of a homebody and love being snuggled up more than anything. i have to let you know in advance that you have some stiff competition in the form of my giant teddy bear, barnaby. 

i'm looking for something longer term too, or at least not a one night kind of thing—a collar one day would be the dream <;3 

if you send a picture, ill send one back, nothing sexy just yet though, if that's okay? 

have you met up with someone off here before? just curious about your experiences! 

y/n

As soon as the message is sent, the overthinking kicks in—was that too much? Is he going to think you're weird? 

You shuffle in bed, turning over between the sheets and trying to flick through other apps as you wait for a reply—otherwise, you'd just be staring at the notifications bar waiting for that silly little robot face to pop up. 

Johnny doesn't leave you waiting long, only a few minutes passing from your last message.

Maybe you'll find out sooner rather than later just how my dirty talk sounds ;) 

I tried to sneak in before I was old enough, but they caught on. Served since I was 18 though, you'll have a lot of stories ready from me if you're ever willing to listen. Not sure if the uniform is anything like you're thinking though, in my unit it's mostly just t-shirts, tac vests and trousers. 

I'll prepare my best snuggling arms for if we ever meet. You should inform Barnaby now about his replacement, mind. 

Can't not send a sexy photo though, sorry lass, all my pictures are. I'm sure you understand, lol

Haven't met anyone, had a few conversations but nothing worth pursuing, and had kind of given up until I saw your post. 

His message is the perfect mix of sexy, sweet, and sincere—and if that is the essence of the man, you know he's everything you're looking for. 

You try not to think too hard about a hot Scottish accent calling you all your favourite names or telling you exactly what to do, or even those stories he has to tell, as the idea is all too exciting. 

Reading his message, you instinctively reach out to pat Barnaby when you see he may end up replaced—hopefully the poor bear will understand when he has to vacate the bed for this sexy soldier man. 

looking forward to it. can I start putting in requests now for bedtime stories too?

i still wanna see, maybe in your sexy-not-sexy pic? 

barnaby will be devastated by the news, and you may have to give him hugs too (but not for too long, or i'll get lonely!!!)

same here, about things not going anywhere... or people turning out to be a bit scary, so you're not allowed to let me down, okay? 

Maybe the last part of the message was too much, but your heart is already soaring with unbridled hope—along with that hope comes doubt too. 

Each second waiting for a reply drags, and you take to re-reading his messages and clicking on his profile to investigate. 

It's largely empty of posts, but there are tons of comments across different communities—including his aforementioned football team, r/Scotland, and eyebleach. 

Clearly, he's a softie at heart. 

When his next message comes through, it's an Imgur link with a short message. 

Here we go, a few months old though now. Don't have anything more recent from work :) 

You take a moment or two to steady yourself before you tap the link. While you definitely feel like you and Johnny have already started to click, if he's not your type then it probably won't go anywhere... 

It's a situation you've been in before—great conversation, similar interests but no physical attraction, and back then you didn't have the heart to break it off straight away.

You tap the link and are greeted by a full-body shot of a tall, well-built man in tactical clothes. His hair is a neatly trimmed mohawk, and while his face isn't crystal clear, he's clearly fucking handsome. His biceps bulge from the gray tee stretched over his torso, his large hands are covered with gloves and grasping a gun.

Your eyes trail to his long legs, thick thighs encased in camo and strapped with various holsters. All in all, the picture is perfect. You find yourself zooming in desperately to get a better look at his face, the handsome jaw lined with stubble that you can already imagine between your legs. The whole image and every new detail has you squirming in your bed, and cheekily wishing to save the image to your phone.

holyfwucj 

holy fuck 

Like what you see? 

i need a hug from you urgently. 

now i feel shy... 

It had crossed your mind ever so slightly that Johnny may be out of your league, or that he simply may not be attracted to someone like you, which would be a complete shame. Now you've set eyes on him, you want him even more—want to kneel at those feet and stare up at his hulking figure while he tugs on a leash around your neck. 

Hopefully, just like you, he'll be smitten from the first glance. 

Scrolling through your camera roll, you decide you don't exactly love any recent photos of yourself. The ones at your last work event have you looking far too corporate, and the only image from your last night out was taking in a bathroom mirror in the local Wetherspoons—neither of which is ideal. 

You crawl out from the warmth of your sheets, kneeling on the end of the bed and posing as you point your camera in the mirror that sits across the room and captures you perfectly. Before you start snapping, you adjust your top to make sure too much isn't on display, even though it's strappy and cropped, and definitely a little bit more on the tantalising side as far as your pyjamas go. 

Hopefully, Johnny likes the pose and the outfit... and you. You can see your smiling face just to the side of your phone as you press to capture the picture—and when you return to your inbox to send the picture link, a message is waiting for you. 

I already know you're gorgeous. Don't leave me hanging, bonnie. 

okay. this is me now, all ready for bed!! 

Holy fuck yourself.

And I'm assuming that's Barnaby in the background. 

If he notices the pose, he doesn't comment on it, instead delighting your heart by commenting on Barnaby instead.

sure is! he's ready for snuggles and sleep. 

Can you do me a favour? 

That message makes your heart skip because usually when something like that is asked, it's followed with a request for nudes or something sexual—and while that is a large part of something like this, you crave the connection first, crave someone actually sticking around and getting to know you. 

depends on what it is!

Tell Barnaby to keep looking after you until I get there, yeah? 

does that mean you're coming for me?

One day, if we're both lucky.

seems promising so far, Johnny. 

Get some sleep, yeah? Maybe tomorrow night I'll give you a bell. 

The idea of this conversation ending is heart-wrenching, but at least sleep will bring you closer to that possible phone call. Hearing his voice, now that will be even more incredible. 

how do you expect me to sleep after telling me that? so mean! 

Patience, bonnie. Be good for me? 

You clench, your thighs squeezing together as arousal rushes through you. It's like he knows exactly how far to go, what buttons to press, what you're looking for.

It's the right kind of commanding, toeing the line perfectly between flirtatious and in charge. A lot of guys you've talked to have rushed it made commands too early, and sent you running. Johnny's words, be good for me? You can't help but want to behave. 

okay, but I see how this is going to be :( 

Bet you look so fucking good with a pout ;) 

now you're just being a cruel tease, Johnny... 

Sorry, I'll stop. Sleep, yeah, for me?

cuddling up to barnaby now. 

You decide to attach another picture, your eyes screwed shut and cheeks squished as you wrap yourself around the bear and cuddle up under the sheets. 

talk tomorrow?

Of course, bonnie, sweet dreams <;3 

You lock your phone, your eyes feeling relieved as they adjust to the darkness. 

For a brief moment, you just clutch your phone to your chest and recall the picture Johnny had sent, how much you'd love to be wrapped up in his arms tonight. 

He's the only thing on your mind as you drift off to sleep.

-//-

Your dreams are tumultuous, starting off with a nightmare of being chased and chased until your legs give out, only for you to find salvation and safety in a stranger's arms—one who seemed vaguely familiar. 

The first thing you do when you wake is roll over to check your phone, elation overtaking you when you see a notification from Johnny already waiting there—already he's blessing you with a good morning message.

Good morning, sweet girl.

Attached under the picture is another image link, and clicking on it brings up an absolutely gorgeous picture of Johnny, lazing in bed. There's just enough light in the room for you to see the brightness of his eyes that you couldn't see before—his mohawk is mussed, and his smile is easy, drawing you in. 

He's even more handsome in this up close photo, you can only imagine what he looks like in person, right before you. 

morning Johnny <3 how did you sleep? 

Like a baby. Yourself? 

not the best, but I swear you were in my dream. 

Sorry to hear that, but oh already? What did I do? 

I mean, it was a bulky guy with a mohawk but he didn't have your name, I think it was meant to be you though. 

You recall the safety you felt in the arms of the strange figure, it was serene, and everything you hope to feel when you find the one—hopefully that's Johnny.

My dreams were shite, you didn't show up. 

i'll try harder to be there tonight!! 

Promise? 

promise. 

God, he's so fucking sweet. It's hard to imagine he's into all the things you mentioned in your initial post, at least right now. But you're all too familiar with how appearances can be deceiving—you wonder what else your sweet Scot is into. 

You peel back the covers and head out into the kitchen, flicking the kettle on mindlessly as you keep your eyes fixated on the screen—not wanting to be even a minute late to answering Johnny's texts, even though it seems there's a natural lull in the conversation. 

You return your focus to making your tea, and your thoughts don't drift from Johnny for even a moment, as you ponder ways to keep the conversation going. Admittedly, you have a million and one questions you want, but you don't want to come across too... eager? clingy? Like some serial killer fiending for information? 

It's crazy the way your heart yearns for him so soon—and it's crazy the way that you wish he feels the same as you do. You wonder how his day is going, and if he's staring at your phone waiting for your message.

With tea brewed, you set it on the coffee table and flop onto the plush couch, rushing to open the app when a new notification pops up.

What's your plan for the day? 

lazy day, binge-watching... texting you? wbu? 

I have to work for a bit, but I'll message you when I can. 

On a weekend? That's horrible, but I imagine they run a tight ship over there. 

You rush to follow up your message with something else. 

will you still be able to call tonight? 

Aye, give me your number, I'll save it! 

You send off your number and don't hear anything from Johnny for a good few hours. You pass the time watching one of your favourite shows, and trying to resist the urge to go scroll down Johnny's profile once more.  

The next time a message pops up, it's well past lunch.

Cute profile pic on whatsapp.

Johnny has clearly added your number to his contacts and spied your picture on the app. You blush thinking of him seeing you in that costume—especially after he knows what you're into.

it was Halloween, I swear!! 

You make an adorable little kitten, lass.

imagination running wild now? ;) 

Aye, but I'm a gent. 

hopefully not always...

Oh, you'll see. Talk to you tonight, kitty. 

talk to you then &lt;;3 

Now you're just itching, waiting for the hours to crawl by for Johnny's workday to end, so you can talk to him again, so you can finally hear his voice. 

What will it sound like saying your name? Whispering sweet nothings in your ears? 

The hours pass slowly until a different notification lights up your phone as you cuddle into your sheets.

Hey, it's Johnny! Just got home. 

You scramble to click on the pop-up, spying his own profile picture in the corner—tapping on it to view it closer. 

It's the Johnny you recognise, smiling wide with his arm slung around another man. He looks so ridiculously happy, probably due to the pint in his other hand. The more you look at him, the more you can't believe you're talking to this man, that he wants to talk to you. 

You quickly add him to your contacts, putting a heart next to his name, before you return to the chat and begin to type.

i'm not the only one with a cute pfp!! 

Three sheets to the wind in that picture, actually.

i can tell &lt;3

Ready to call? 

whenever you're ready!

The image of him floods your screen, the screen pulsing as it waits for you to accept. Your fingers tremble as you press the button, and you fall silent as you press the phone to your ear, nerves gripping at your throat. 

"Hi, bonnie." His voice drifts from the phone speaker, sweet like honey and warm like sunshine, with that gorgeous accent too. 

"Hi." You squeak out, silently cursing at yourself for being so nervous and seemingly unable to speak. 

A melodic laugh follows your words, amused but not cruel or mocking. "Are you nervous?" His voice is soothing, his concern and sweet nature evident. 

You cradle your burning cheek, feeling the way your blush spreads across your smiling face. "Just a little, can you blame me?" 

He's laughing again, and you hear a shuffling noise that suggests he's getting comfortable. "Don't be, I'll look after yer, I promise." 

Fuck. You could get used to hearing that. "I really like your voice." You admit, whispering into the phone with a ridiculous grin on your face. 

"I like yours too, you sound so sweet." 

You drop your voice lower, giggling mischievously. "Only sometimes." 

"That's what I like ta hear." The way Johnny's voice dips as he says that has your insides fluttering, but you can only assume he's returning the favour. His tone returns to its usual charming tone as he asks, "How was your lazy day?" 

"Well, I kind of spent a fair bit of it distracted, thinking about this important call I was going to have tonight..." 

"Oh aye, I should get off the phone so you can wait then." 

"Funny. How was yours? What do you even do day to day, anyway?" You ask, voice brimming with curiosity—there are so many things you want to ask, but you imagine his job can be secretive. 

"Lots of training, and sometimes paperwork, which is right shite." 

"Not when you don't have someone under the desk keeping you company." You laugh, taking the chance to flirt. If you were into Johnny after reading his messages, actually hearing his voice is only making your attraction soar. 

A quiet fuck can be heard, as the man on the end of the phone heaves out a breath. "I'll have ta look into getting you clearance if you keep talking like that, lass." 

"Glad to be of service, what can I say?" You find yourself in a giggle fit at your own silliness, a mix of nerves and joy at enjoying yourself so much.

"God, I love yer laugh." The deep sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten. 

The drug that is Johnny is already so intoxicating. 

"I'm so glad you can't see me blushing." 

"I'm no'." He sounds so indignant about that. "But I could listen to that laugh all day, really."

If only he could see you pout too. "Now you're just trying to make me blush more." 

He chuckles, his voice dropping dangerously flirtatious again. "Maybe I am, nothing you can do about it."

"Now I'm pouting." 

"Better not pout in front of me, lass." His suggestive tone makes you shiver. 

"Oh, why's that?" You ask, playing coy. 

"'Cause I'll just have to start kissing ya, might even nibble on those soft little lips." 

You suppress a delighted squeak, already so flustered at even the idea of a kiss. "I'm not hearing a downside." 

"No?" 

"Nope." 

"Might not be gentle with you, though." 

"Good thing that I like it rough." The words are out of you before you can reconsider, but they have exactly the effect you intend as you hear Johnny inhale sharply.

"Ach, you and yer wicked mouth." 

"You have no idea..." 

He lets out a rough exhale, his voice turning gravelly and deep. "Fuck, bonnie." 

"Hey, I'm only repaying the favour, I've been squirming desperately pretty much since I picked up the phone." 

He whistles approvingly, his voice now teasing and playfully menacing. "Just you wait til I'm really in ya head." 

"You're already making good progress." You admit.

"Oh aye?" 

You hum contentedly, eyes flickering shut for a moment. "I'll be imagining your voice as I fall asleep tonight." 

"I'll just have ta send yer voice notes to drift off to, so I can end up in your dreams again." You can almost hear the smirk in his voice. 

"Already spoiling me, too." 

Fuck, how is it this man seems to know exactly what to say? Everything that comes out of his mouth takes root in your brain and sends your thoughts running wild—it's like he's already in your head, or as if someone made him in a lab.

"I'll spoil ya every day, if you're ever mine." 

You groan in frustration, unbelieving that a stranger can be so seemingly perfect. "How are you even single, Johnny?" 

"I could ask you the same. Taking everything in me to not ask for an address right now, if I'm being honest." He huffs a laugh. 

While the idea is thrilling, you know you should have at least some sense of preservation, and shouldn't blurt out your postcode for this strange man you barely know. "I'm worth the wait, I swear." You whisper your promise. 

"I'm sure yer are. But to answer your question, my work keeps me busy a lot, and this lifestyle isn't for everyone." There's a hint of vulnerability to his voice, and you sense such a fact is a sore point in his personal life. 

In the fantasy of all of this, you suppose the reality of the situation isn't something you'd stopped to consider. Life for a man in the military was surely so different from a regular 9-5. "I'm guessing that you're away a lot?" 

"Aye, sometimes for just a few days, sometimes for months, all depends." His admission is soft, as if you can hear in his tone that he's waiting for you to bolt. 

If that's the big 'catch' when it comes to Johnny, you can breathe a sigh of relief. "Yeah, I guess you need someone strong and loyal to hold on and wait for you." 

There's a tense silence, something lingering in the air. 

"Hard to come by, I've found." 

The thought makes your stomach twist in the worst possible way. Johnny, at least on the surface, seems so worthy of love. 

You chance the question that's on the tip of your tongue, hoping Johnny doesn't mind your reckless curiosity. "Have... you been cheated on?" 

"More than once, gets less surprising over the years." He finishes with a sad laugh, as you can tell he tries to infuse humour into the whole thing. 

"That's... horrible." 

Being sent away from your home to face gunfire and warfare, all to keep the people back home safe... only to be betrayed by the people back home who love you, who are supposed to wait for you. It's a gut-wrenching thought, and your heart aches for the man.

"A few of the lads here have a similar story." 

"So the army, not for the faint of heart, and dating an army man, not for the faint of heart." You sigh, though you don't feel put off by the thought.  

"Exactly. That you then? Faint of heart?" 

"No. I mean, inside I'm clingy as hell, and I'd miss you like crazy every day until you got back..." Your emotions overtake you, as you imagine a future where you'd have to kiss the man goodbye for maybe months at a time. "But I get the feeling that what we could have would be worth the wait. Hypothetically of course." 

At that, Johnny laughs, and his light tone returns. "Don't want to get too far ahead of ourselves, aye." 

You don't want to get ahead of yourself, you know you shouldn't, but the way you and Johnny have clicked is unlike anything you've felt before. "But... I have a good feeling." 

"I do too, already dreading putting down the phone." 

"I'm not planning on it anytime soon, even if I have to be up early tomorrow." 

"So do I, alarms set for 4." 

You do not envy his lifestyle one bit.

"That's awful! I'm gonna be so cranky tomorrow, I might have to use my lunch break for a nap." You admit, preemptively yawning into your hand. 

"You one of those perpetually sleepy girls?" 

You nod, even though he can't see it. "The sleepiest." 

"Barnaby is a lucky bear, getting to cuddle up to you so much." 

You burst out laughing at the hint of envy in his words. "Are you... jealous?"

"For now, but soon the tables will turn." He faked an evil laugh, that only makes you giggle harder. 

"Oh, you think you can give better snuggles than him?" 

"Oh, I know I can, bonnie. The bear can't wrap his arms around yer, can't whisper sweet things in your ear..." His voice dips back into that seductive, teasing tone. "... Can't trail his hands down to that pretty little pussy." 

Once more, you flush with desire, every nerve alight as Johnny's words wash over you—although it seems like almost everything he says has your body reacting. "You have an interesting way of cuddling, Johnny."

"Didnae say I was actually gonna do anything once my hands got down there." 

"Well, I wouldn't be opposed." 

"When you're in my arms, you wouldn't have a choice, lass." The dark, dominant voice makes you shiver, makes your submissive instincts awaken. 

"Oh yeah?" 

He hums slowly. "Once you're mine, you leave the choices to me. Johnny knows best, yeah?" 

"Johnny knows best." You whisper breathlessly, the words coming out automatically, like they just feel right.

"Steamin' Jesus, can already tell yer gonna be the death of me." 

"Can't have that, your family won't get your death in service payout!" You laugh awkwardly, before a sense of guilt rears its head. "Sorry, grim joke." 

"I don't mind. You should hear some of the ones my Lt. comes out with, he's a right sick bastard." He chuckles.

"Never want to make light of it and hurt you, though." 

"Telling jokes makes it easier hen, you'll be wishing me dead in no time at all."  

You gasp, shocked by the prospect. "I'd never!" 

"Not even when I deny you from touching yourself for my entire deployment? Months of nothing at all?" The sick grin is evident in his voice. 

"You wouldn't, that's so mean. You're too sweet for that." 

"Aye, for now, but don't you like a little bit of meanness, if yer into men like me..." The edge to his voice and the truth to your words has you trembling. 

"Maybe..." You singsong in response, not wanting to give away just how much you liked the idea of his mean side. 

"Bonnie..." He tuts disapprovingly. "Don't play coy." 

You shudder out a breath as you squeeze your thighs together for relief. "I just don't want you to bully me too much right now, I'm already soaked." 

"Is that right?" He seems delightfully surprised by such a revelation. 

"Mhmm." 

"I'm fucking rock hard if it helps, think I have been since last night..." You hear him shuffle, and you try not to imagine what's happening on the other end of the line, or how he looks lying in bed with said hardness.

When he groans hungrily down the line, you feel yourself quake once more. "The sight of you on your fucking knees... Christ alive." 

You can't help but giggle at your unintended teasing. "It wasn't on purpose, I thought it was cute more than anything." 

"Adorable and naughty, could cum just looking at it." He huffs. 

"You're just flattering me, besides, I could say the same about your picture."

Every part of you flushes thinking of the first photo he sent, all muscle and alpha male—it's like he was the physical embodiment of dominance, and just looking at him makes you want to kneel.

"You like the military get up?" 

"Love it, more than I probably should." 

"Oh aye, bet you'd love for me to order you around?" His words are playful, but underpinned with a hint of promise. "All in due time, eh?" 

"All in due time. What's your rank, anyway?" 

"Sergeant." 

"Wait..." You take a deep breath as you consider your question. "Can I ask for your last name or is it too soon?" 

"Mactavish."

Johnny Mactavish—you should remember to give that a quick Google search later.

"Sergeant Mactavish." You test the name on your tongue, trying to imagine him at work, following and giving orders. 

"Sounds too good when you say it, bonnie." He laughs. 

"Thank you, sergeant." Your affectation of the word is entirely intentional, as you attempt to rile him up with the use of his title. 

The throaty groan that leaves him is addictive.

"What else do you like to be called?" 

"Depends on what you want to call me really, but I like... sir." 

"I like it too, will have to remember that for the future, and just torture you with sergeant in the meantime." You can't help but giggle as you flirt. 

"Oh don't worry, am keeping score." He growls playfully. "Wait til I get ma hands on you, bonnie." 

"You're keeping score?" You gasp, a heady mix of fear and arousal coursing through you almost urges you to be even more of a teasing brat.

"Aye, spanking arm at the ready." 

"My pouting lips are ready." 

"Won't be the only thing you use them lips for."

Fuck fuck fuck. Not that you hadn't thought about it already, hadn't already let your mind drift to what his cock might look like—whether it matches the size of the man—now you're definitely thinking about it. Fixated on it, craving it. 

Some cards are best kept close to your chest so early on, so you change tack and go a different direction with his flirtation. "Yeah, with you in the room, I'd probably be smiling a whole lot." 

The two of you continue to chat, you asking what you can about his work as he asks about yours, and you fill him in on the boring world you live in, which seems especially boring in comparison to taking down cartels and traveling the world.

The conversation never stops being easy, the flirtation and innuendo always right there at the tip of your tongues as you tease each other relentlessly—giving as good as you get. All night, you're practically grinding against your duvet as you get lost in Johnny's dulcet tones, and you find yourself just letting him speak for the sake of getting to hear more of his voice.

As Johnny is about to ask you more about your background, you're overcome with a harsh yawn that you desperately try to stifle. Your eyes have been shut for the last hour at least, but with the command Johnny has over your nervous system right now, it's been easy to stay awake. 

"Tired, bonnie?" He asks, voice laced with sweet concern.

"Yeah..." Your voice falls quiet, as the thought of ending the call makes your throat constrict. "But I don't wanna stop talking." 

"Me either, but av got bad news." 

You know what's coming, and you know it isn't remotely anywhere near the end of the world, despite what your heart is telling you right now. "Go on." 

"I have to go." Even he sounds sad about such an outcome. 

"It's not even that late?" The clock reads 2 am. 

"Gotta get a wee bit of sleep before I hit the gym, and then get off ta work. Don't you have work too?" 

"Work from home tomorrow, so it's not too bad. Not fair though, I wanna keep talking." You admit quietly. It's too much too soon, but you're overwhelmed, the tide of your emotions crashing over the edges.

"Tell yer what. Next time we call, we can try leaving it on while we sleep."

Your heart flips, as you almost whimper at how cute the gesture is. "Are you trying to make me fall in love with you?"

"Obviously." There's that gorgeous laugh again. "Is it working?" 

"Just a little, but that might be the lack of sleep talking, I might be going slightly insane." 

Johnny sighs, and it's clear he's battling to keep a handle on his self-control. "Rest, bonnie, I won't be able to work knowing you're not sleepin'" 

You sigh too, accepting your fate. "Okay, just for you." 

"Just want what's best for you, you need your sleep."  

Your head spins at how utterly sincere he sounds—the care in his voice after such a short amount of time serves to drive you even deeper into this infatuation. "Already?" 

"Can't turn it off, am just protective by nature, bonnie. If you were my girl, you'd have a bedtime." 

And that makes your cunt clench and your heart soar. "Johnny..." You whine.

"Yeah?" 

You hesitate to say what you want to say next, but everything within you is calling out for him, desperate to be in his arms. "Don't make me wait too long to meet you, please." 

His laughter is sweet, conveying a sense of understanding more than anything. "I'll try ma best, supposed to be off on Friday." 

"5 whole days."

"Sure you don't wanna wait a bit longer?" 

You shake your head, mumbling a sound to convey your feelings. "Feels right, don't know how to describe it... do you feel it too?" 

Johnny takes a deep breath, his voice shaking slightly as he speaks. "I do, lass." 

"Good." You couldn't even attempt to fight the idiotic grin on your face, or how warm you feel inside and out. "I'll get some sleep, talk soon." 

"Goodnight, bonnie. Sweet dreams."  

You wait for Johnny to end the call, not wanting to push the button yourself and have his presence fade away. When your screen dims, you resist the urge to text him more, opting instead to put your phone on charge and roll over to Barnaby—wishing it was Johnny instead. 

#john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap mactavish #john mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #call of duty fanfiction #call of duty x reader #call of duty fanfic #soap mw2 #this is a crime against literature i swear #also a crime against graphic design #crimes all round??? #anyway posting and pretending this doesnt exist so the self loathing goes away xox #aaaaaaaaaaah #collars and cages

[evilkitten3]

yesterday's dracula daily had an editor's note that, for reasons unknown even to i, inspired quite possibly the most unholy image i've ever wasted half an hour in preview to make

stoker coming out of his coffin to shame matt from dracula daily

#the longer you look at it the worse it gets #if you zoom in you can see exactly where i committed crimes against digital artistry #graphic design is not my passion #also after making this i looked it up and discovered three important things #first that bram stoker does not in fact HAVE a coffin as he was cremated #second that he died of syphilis #(probably) #and third that his death was overshadowed bc five days before he ''locomotor ataxia 6 months'''d himself into the grave the titanic sunk #and a surprise fourth thing that he died on april twentieth a day that a little under 100 years after his death became known as weed day #what a fucking legend #the litter box #shitpost #dracula daily #bram stoker #truth coming out of her well to shame mankind #jean léon gérôme #i hope this is half as painful to look at as it was to create

[rodimissliveblogs]

Want to start my BG3 liveblog the same way I’ve started my Fire Emblem ones with “what I know of the game in advance” but what I know is

- a ton about the various companions

- absolutely shitfuck about like, the overall plot

Like, there's mindflayers, and a weird new cult popping up (as opposed to the regular weird old cults you'd expect to find in Baldur's Gate) but I don't know how a cult ties to

the mindflayer that's catfishing me in my dreams, or how that ties into Gale's goddess wanting him to explode himself, but I think that does tie in somewhere. I know that Gale is the best character to play as for Any% speedruns of this game, at least.

But I can tell you that "fix him" and "make him way way way way worse" are Astarion's two endings, that Shadowheart has a religious crisis and dyes her hair, that Karlach really wants a hug, and that I am familiar with just enough of tabletop Faerun's lore that my jaw dropped the first time I saw Wyll's surname out in the wild.

Also there's bards giving out free cataract surgery, if you want it.

#roddy plays bg3 #under the cut for slightly-spoilerish vagueries phrased humorously #and also a crime against graphic design

[taestefully-in-luv]

Our Time | JJK (Four)

Summary: After an accident and being in a coma for three months, you finally wake. But the last nine years of your life have been completely erased. You rely on none other than your best friend, Jungkook, to help regain your memories and yourself. But what happens when the truth of your missing time starts unraveling and it isn’t all it’s made out to be?

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem Reader (Detective!Jk x Graphic Designer!OC) side pairing: Seokjin x Reader

Genre: crime au, fluff, heavy angst, smut, romance, darker themes, amnesia au. Best friends to ???

Word Count: 13k

Warnings: swearing, frustrations of amnesia, mentions of alcohol, slight panic attack, confession, secrecy, lots of bonding, mentions of sex, sexual tension, yearning, erection, dirty talk (details of sexual scenarios) over the pants action, mentions of oral (fem and male rec.)

a/n: another important chapter 🤭 please let me know what you think! Send an ask if you want to be added to the taglist or just want to chat :]

© taestefully-in-luv

Previous --- Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You finally lower the frame after staring at it with heart eyes for way too long. There are more than a million thoughts running through your mind but it seems your ability to truly think is somewhat halted because of the giddiness that trots around in your belly. Yes, you’re confused. Yes, you’re shocked. Yes, you’re in almost complete disbelief. But if this is true?

Then yes, you are also over the fucking moon.

You continue to look at the framed photo, eyes scanning every little detail. You take a moment to wipe your sleeve against the glass, built up dust making it harder to see clearly. You, in a long, beautiful wedding gown, fingers wrapped around Jungkook’s bicep and a look of bliss on your face. Jungkook’s suit is hugging his muscles, the tie neatly wrapped around his neck as one of his hands rest over yours. His smile is huge and his cheeks are rosy. You know when he looks genuinely happy and this is it. 

You try to suppress a growing grin, heart still racing and beating loudly in your ears. But suddenly, a headache starts forming and you roll your eyes. Maybe it’s ‘logic’ trying to push against your forehead, causing an ache to bring you back to reality.

You are happy that apparently you and Jungkook are married. But you also don’t know for sure yet. It might seem obvious but hey, you never know. This would explain the secrecy and his lonely apartment. He doesn’t actually live there, right? Maybe he just got that place quickly so he could keep up the façade of you two only being friends. 

But why keep this a secret in the first place? 

It is huge news so maybe that’s why. 

Regardless, you need to confront Jungkook. You need to tell him you know about this and if it’s actually true. And hopefully he will be just as pleased as you. He doesn’t have to pretend anymore. 

You decide to stick the frame under your arm as you close the box again. You glance around the attic one last time. Boxes everywhere, lots of dust and lots of evidence of a life you don’t know. But at least you know something and you’re going to stick to your word—nothing more than the recipe book…even though, you found something else entirely. 

Climbing down the attic steps, you can hear Jungkook’s snores from the living room. You finally get the attic closed but when the door shuts, your entire body goes still at the loud ‘bang’ when it slams shut. You’re quick to snap your head in the direction of Jungkook but when you don’t hear his snores anymore, you feel your insides twist and turn. 

Frozen, you keep your body turned in the direction of the living room and it seems Jungkook’s snores don’t continue. And then you hear the sound of feet on the wooden floors.

“y/n?” Jungkook’s voice is distant and groggy. 

You take a deep breath, eyes going to the ladder and the frame under your arm before you hold it in your hands and bring it to your chest, picture facing you. You know he’s going to appear in the hallway any second as he looks for you and you know you have to face him regardless.

“In the hall.” You finally call out. 

Not even five seconds pass before Jungkook’s sleepy figure appears before you. His hair sticks up in all directions, fist rubbing at his eye as he tries to adjust to the light in the hallway. It takes him a moment to register what he’s seeing. You, beneath the attic with a ladder next to you and something in your hands. 

“What—” He glances around much more quickly now, feet suddenly moving as he comes closer to you. “What are you doing?” He finally looks awake. Alert. Panicked. “Hey, what are you—are you trying to get into the…” He shakes his head, brows furrowing. “What are you doing, y/n?”

“Well—”

“—Did you go into the fucking attic?” He cuts you off, eyes on the ceiling as panic and concern paints his face. 

“I needed to find something.” You tell him calmly. “So I—”

“—What the fu…” He swallows hard, eyes not finding yours. “I told you not to…” Jungkook’s fingers go to his temples, eyes shutting as he tries to gather his thoughts. “You realize how fucking—”

“—I didn’t snoop into anything, really.” You rush to say though you speak slowly. Your own concern etching itself onto your features. “I was only looking for a recipe book.”

Jungkook finally looks at you and you feel small. “A fucking recipe book? That’s worth going into the attic for? I told you that there are too many things in there that would overwhelm you!” His chest moves up and down quickly, lips set in a firm line as he stares at you incredulously. “This—”

“—I only found this.” You keep your voice calm. You flip the frame to face him and you watch as his entire expression falls, every hard line on his face smooths out the moment he sees what you’re holding. And then suddenly his face begins paling.

“You—You…” He blinks at the photo, mouth fallen open. 

“Is this…” You speak quietly, suddenly insecure about the entire situation but you still move closer to him, eyes looking up into his and he immediately softens because of your delicate yet unsure expression. “Are we?” 

Jungkook’s teeth dig into his bottom lip as he gazes down at you, his eyes growing watery.

“Did we really get married?” You push the frame closer to him, your expression shifting from unsure to pleading. “Did you fall in love with me? Is this real?”

Jungkook’s expression completely crumbles at your questions, “Yes…” His voice cracks, pausing to clear his throat. “We got married…” Then he grows sad, “How wouldn’t this be real?” He asks, weak smile tugging at his lips as he takes the frame from you and he looks down at it.

“I don’t know…” Your heart starts thumping harder, you use every muscle in your face to keep you from smiling. “Maybe since I’m kind of crazy about you…that I photoshopped it or something.” 

Jungkook snorts and you feel your body relax. “Photoshop?” He laughs but his eyes are still watery. “No, no.” He brings the frame to his body like he’s hugging it. “This is very real.”

You can feel the tiny hairs all over your body rise in disbelief. You know how shocking and unreal this all is. But there’s something inside you that feels relieved, pleased and comforted. Because you have felt it in your bones that the connection between you and Jungkook was somehow different and you craved him more than your mind or body could explain.

“I’m married to you?” You stare at the frame in his hands, eyes huge with wonder. “You…this feels crazy.” You say, quietly trying to sort your thoughts. “How do we…” You finally tear your eyes from the frame and look at him. “How do we act now?”

Jungkook’s silence feels like hands wrapped around your throat. 

His body stands tall yet stiff. Fingers gripping the frame like he’s afraid it’ll drop and glass will shatter. Jungkook breaths are bated and you feel your own throat constricting when his silence continues.

“Jungkook?” You murmur his name, voice straying from confidence as insecurity leaks through the one word. 

He flinches. 

After another moment, Jungkook tries to clear his throat and speak but it seems any words he wants to say die somewhere in his chest, along with his heart. “Um,” He still doesn’t lift his eyes to you, avoiding your gaze as he continues to stare down at the frame.

“Jung—“

“—Did you see anything else in the attic?” He asks, voice slightly shaky as he doesn’t rip his eyes from the frame still. “Or was this it?”

“This was it.” You tell him honestly, his gaze finally meeting yours. Perhaps he wanted to catch your own telltale tic when you lie. But you aren’t lying.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, tone much softer. “How is your head? This doesn’t feel real for you, right? This probably might seem crazy.”

“Yes and no.” Your lips manage to form a hesitant smile. “It is crazy because wow, I’m married. But also, it isn’t crazy because even 24 year old me can’t imagine my life ending up this way with anyone else but you.”

Jungkook stares at you with big, doe eyes. A crease forming between his eyebrows as his lips twist, teeth suddenly digging into the flesh when he tries to control his obvious emotions. 

You thought he might be pleased you know but you don’t expect to see his eyes grow teary when they well with uncertainty and longing. 

He had to pretend this relationship didn’t exist between you both. It must have been incredibly hard for him.

“How are you feeling?” You try to step closer to him, but your body is still going through shock despite your mind feeling more at ease. 

Jungkook lightly scoffs at your question, lips twitching when he can’t answer with words. He’s growing more and more unknown to you. This is brand new territory. Jungkook knows you even more than you recall. He knows you differently than you know him. You’ve never experienced a romantic dynamic with him—well, you have, you just don’t remember. 

You eye him carefully, his muscles looking unbearably tense. You walk forward more, hand reaching towards him as you try to gently pry the frame from his hands. “You know you have the real thing in front of you, right?” You innocently tease, smirk on your lips but it gets immediately wiped clean from your face when Jungkook’s shoulders shake a little and he chokes on whatever words have risen to his throat. 

“I…do…” He finally looks at you, the uncertainty and longing now clearly evident on his features. “I miss you.” He whispers.

He doesn’t just miss you, his best friend. No, he misses you, his wife.

“I can imagine this has been hard for you.” Your fingers wrap around his. You’re met with his cold and clammy skin. “Pretending we’re just friends.”

Jungkook takes a deep breath, his watery eyes blinking back his emotions. “You have no idea.” He tells you, “How fucking hard this is. How hard everything has been.” His voice cracks and he pauses to take a moment to collect himself. 

“Well…” You dart around anxiously, cheeks growing warm. “You don’t have to pretend anymore.” You intertwine your fingers now, feeling brave but still so nervous.

Jungkook finally cracks a small smile, “I might not have to pretend there isn’t something between us but it doesn’t mean I can just act like how we used to. This is brand new for you.”

You shake your head quickly, a cute expression that makes Jungkook melt on your face. “I don’t mind, really.”

He laughs, his own head shaking. “It’s not a switch that can get flipped.”

“Fine.” You groan playfully, the atmosphere finally lightening and it seems the invisible fingers around your throat finally let you go. “But I can definitely ask questions now, right? And you’ll give me answers.”

Jungkook’s smile drops a little but he nods, although a bit hesitant.

“I can’t wait, Ribbit.”

~~~

You stare at Jungkook, teasing smile lifting your lips as you watch him awkwardly watch you. “You know, kind of strange that you choose now to not sit too close to me.”

He chuckles, fingers fiddling with one another. “I’ll admit it’s actually a little more nerve wracking.”

“Now that I know we’re…romantically,” You wiggle your brows, “Involved?” 

Jungkook’s cheek burn as he stares you, eyes filled with the same uncertainty and longing you’re beginning to truly pick up on. “Isn’t this weird for you?”

“What’s weird is how far you’re sitting from me, Jungkook.” You point out, “Or should I call you something more cute?” 

“Cute?”

“Mhm. What do I usually call you? Babe? Honey? Sweetheart? Baby?” You’re obviously teasing him. You always imagined he would get this flustered. He is. Even though you both have been married for seven years, it seems he still flushes under your gaze and your words. You love that.

“Just call me Jungkook.” He swallows down his own name, shy smile. “Don’t jump into anything you don’t really understand.”

He says this softly but you know he’s warning you—as gently as possible.

“You’re no fun.” You pout, loving this new dynamic. Well, you aren’t really sure it’s a new dynamic but it’s definitely a new way to tease him. Your best friend who ran home crying when he was a kid. Your best friend who got walked on from previous dates. Your best friend who grew up so incredibly well. 

“I beg to differ.” He smiles at you, “I think you’d describe me as really fun actually.”

“Maybe.” You lean back onto the sofa, “I think I’d think you’re more fun if you sat close to me.”

“And how exactly would that be fun?” He raises a curious brow.

Your eyes shine in amusement before you smirk, “I think you know.” You say slowly making Jungkook roll his eyes, uncontrollable smile on his face. 

“You’re really something.”

“But you like it, right?”

Jungkook meets your eye, serious expressing beginning to shadow his previous mirth. “You have no idea.” He tells you. “I’ll sit closer but let’s have some boundaries, don’t you think?”

You soften, smiling at Jungkook before you answer. “Okay.”

“Alright, I know you’re dying to know how this all began, right? What’s your first question, hm?”

“Hm,” You heart starts dancing in your chest when Jungkook finally scoots closer to you, his warmth suddenly caging you as if his arms were tight around your body. Well, you wish that was the case. “Okay, did something happen at Sana’s wedding? I kind of suspected we might have hooked up? Is that when I confessed?”

Jungkook suddenly looks incredibly amused, some shyness getting replaced with something more lively, “What makes you think you’re the one who confessed first?” He asks you, making your mouth fall open.

“There’s no way it wasn’t me.” You look surprised, “You did first?!”

He starts laughing, you swear you can feel the rumble in his chest just by the sound alone. “No it was definitely you.” 

Your face breaks into a grin, “I fucking knew it.”

“I wasn’t as brave as you.” He grows more tender, eyes filled with so much adoration as he stares at you.

“So…did I confess on Sana’s wedding night?”

“Nope.” He tells you, “Nothing happened that night.”

“What?” You purse your lips, “I was so sure.”

“Well…” He blushes, “Not exactly anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was sort of the night everything changed between us though. Without anything actually changing?”

“I still don’t get it.”

Jungkook bites onto his lower lip, trying to remember how you both described it many years ago. “Everyone was making fun of as usual.” He starts, “And it’s like we both become extremely aware of each other. Openly?”

“Openly?”

“I already knew for a long time how I felt about you but I never made it obvious. There was no change in our dynamic. You had feelings for me too.” Then he smirks, “Just like you do right now, right?”

You conceal a knowing smile, eyes averting his gaze for a moment as you nod your head.

“Anyway, that night it’s like neither of us really hid the fact that we were looking at one another differently. We danced together and it became hard to ignore that something was forming between us without either of us ever saying it.”

“Wow.” You listen intently, “Then what happened?”

“After the wedding, we couldn’t go back to the feeling between us. The platonic feeling. It’s like things suddenly changed,” He pauses, cheeks dusting over more harshly. “It got awkward talking about dates, it got weird when I suddenly got jealous of every other man.” He starts chuckling, shaking his head at the past. “It’s like we couldn’t even hug without feeling so fucking…” 

You smile, hand landing right above his knee. “Then what?”

“One time when we were out, I—out of instinct—had a hand on your lower back, feeling protective I guess.” He shrugs, shy smile. “And you joked with me about how I’m going to scare away any future boyfriend and I still remember the stab I felt to my heart.” He laughs to himself, eyes on your hand. “After the wedding, everything was so different with us. Compliments felt different, touching felt different and I remember one night when I was feeling down you gave me some encouraging pep talk and I kept thinking about how I’ll never know anyone like you again.”

“I’ve always felt that about you.” You admit to him, fingers lightly brushing against his sweatpants. “Even when we first became friends.”

He beams at you, “I know.”

“Oh do you?”

“I know everything in your mind, y/n.” He focuses on your face with a smile. “In fact when you were 25 you were wondering if I was ever going to make a real move on you. Both of us fully aware of the unspoken new dynamic.” He admits with a chuckle, “You told me later that you knew you couldn’t have been imagining the romance between us. Always so intuitive.”

“Love that for me.”

“Anyway, as you guessed…” He touches the material of his sweatpants too, fingers dangerously close to yours. “You came to me and told me how you felt. You,” He silently snorts, “Told me you weren’t worried about ruining our friendship because it’s already changed and you thought you might as well take it into your own hands.”

“Sounds like me.” You look impressed with things that sound real despite the fact it also sounds unreal. 

“I admired you so much. Still do.” His fingers brush against yours every now and then. “I obviously returned your feelings. We started dating immediately.”

“Wow, we move fast, huh? Or maybe it was slow?” Perspective, you guess.

He laughs, “Fast. We moved in together only 8 months after dating and I proposed to you only a year and half into our relationship because we both knew this was forever.” He softens so much, fingers warm against yours, the slow and calculated movements making both of your pulses quicken. 

“Wow…” You stare down at his thigh, feeling silly for getting this excited at fingers barely touching. “I wish I remembered this.”

“Me too.” He says quietly. “I think about my life with you all the time and I wish I could just insert my memories into your head.”

“How was our wedding?” You ask him, “We look nice in the photo.”

“One of the best days of my life.” He looks up finally, his eyes willing yours to look at him as well. “I promise you that.”

“You’re a lot more romantic than I would have assumed.” You crack a smile, “Are we pretty romantic?”

He sighs, smile tugging at his lips. “Crazy for each other. So what do you think?”

You laugh a little bitterly, even when your body tingles in warmth and excitement. “I wish I remembered. I hate that nothing sounds familiar at all. It sounds like you’re reading my diary of future dreams to me.”

“I’d love to see that.” He teases. “But hey,” Suddenly growing more serious, “You will get your memories back.”

You nod, trying your best to convince yourself it’s true. “Yeah.”

“I told you I’m here for you. For all of it. No matter how this turns out, I won’t…” He looks away, visibly gulping. “I won’t ever give up.”

You realize with all this discussion that does feel overwhelming despite how pleasing it is to hear, that no actual words have been said about feelings.

“Jungkook?”

“What is it?” He hums.

“Do you love me?”

Jungkook’s brows pull together, blinking at you like you asked a ridiculous question.

“Do I love you?” His fingers finally grab a hold of yours. “I love you so much, y/n.” His confession almost looks overwhelming for even him.

Your lips lift, a sudden relief flooding your entire body. “You do?”

“Yes.” He gazes into your eyes more intense than before. “Isn’t it so obvious?”

“Tell me about our first kiss.” You request, your hand feeling a little sweaty thanks to nerves.

“Our first…” He releases a long breath, “I asked you. I wanted to take you on a date first but I didn’t really want to wait.” He admits, chuckling. “I kissed you and we didn’t really want to stop.” He looks sheepish now, his other hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“Do you think…” Your heart is hammering against your chest now as heat crawls up all your exposed skin. “If we kissed right now that it could spark something? Memories?”

And for the first time, not completely blinded by the joy you feel, you see obvious confliction cross his eyes.

“No, I don’t think we should.” He pulls his hand away from you, he wipes it on his other pants leg, ridding it of sweat. “Boundaries. Slow. This is new.”

He’s reluctant. You can understand his perspective but you sense there’s something more.

“Okay…” You mumble, “That’s okay.”

He finds your eyes, slight panic when he says, “I’m not saying I don’t want to. I just don’t think we should.”

“But what if it helps?” You try to reason with him. Yes, you’d love to kiss him because damn, you’ve been wanting to for a long time. But you also believe it could help. 

He looks antsy in his spot, eyes darting around while both hands rub his sweatpants. “I don’t know. If it’s right.” He says quietly. “I really—”

“—Jungkook, it’s okay. I’m giving you full consent if that’s what you’re worried about.” You put a hand over his, “I’d love to kiss you regardless but I also want to test this theory of mine.”

He deeply sighs out, struggling to look at you again. 

“Please.” You whisper.

He finally tries to relax his body, fully turning his entire form towards you. “Are you really sure?”

You feel touched honestly. He’s so caring and considerate and you’re wildly into him. “I’m sure.”

“Okay…” Jungkook licks the corner of his lips nervously. “Can I lead it?”

“Sure.” You nod, the feeling of a cage door breaking down when millions of butterflies escape inside your stomach, fluttering around making you feel lightheaded. “Yeah…”

Jungkook looks exactly how you’re feeling. 

Uncertain and longing.

Jungkook eyes meet yours and it’s like they’re screaming at you. In excitement? Nerves? Worry? You don’t really know. But you’re sure yours are doing the same. He breathes out, hands suddenly rising towards your face but his fingers only hover over your cheeks. You’re sure he can feel the raging heat radiating off your skin. You swallow hard, heart racing when he moves closer to you.

He continuously licks his lips, fingers finally barely touching your skin and you can feel the comfortable burn from the tips of his fingers, your breath getting caught in your throat at the small touch. 

His space is invading yours, strong tension on both sides colliding with a great force. You can physically feel the heavy, thick air between your bodies. 

You need to breathe.

His fingers cup your jaw more firmly, his skin merging with yours thanks to the heat that has you both melting. His eyes stay low, not able to make contact with yours quite yet as he continues to lean in. He’s moving so slowly, so hesitantly despite how you feel the need he exerts. 

“Jungkook…” You sigh out his name and you feel a bolt of electricity when his eyes snap up and lock with yours. His chest rises and falls and you sense he’s trying to calm his breathing while you’re reminding yourself to breathe.

You know he’s leading but you can’t help it when your hands slide up his chest, fingers splayed out, feeling the drumming of his crazy heart. He releases a shaky breath, eyes going back down to your lips and he leans in more and more. He’s breathing the same small space of air as you. His shaky breaths fanning over your mouth, a reflection of how hard he’s trying to keep it together. 

“Jungkook.” You’re barely audible, eyes closing at the close proximity. 

You want to fall apart. Jungkook’s lips ghost yours, tickling your bottom lip when his barely brushes against it. You want him to meld his lips against yours firmly but he’s so slow and careful, driving you insane. 

“Okay,” He breathes against you.

One of his hands slide behind your neck, surprising you when he urges you forward, your lips perfectly slotting between his and you immediately moan against his mouth, hands firm against his chest when they glide up, your fingers lacing behind his neck, pulling him closer against you. 

Jungkook’s chest pushes against yours, his heavy breaths hard to ignore but somehow you’re only focusing on the feeling between you both. His lips barely disconnect, more shaky breaths before he dives in again, much more force but he’s still so gentle. Little groans in the back of his throat making you ache. 

You know this is new for you. But kissing him already feels so familiar and your body has incredible muscle memory even when your brain lacks it. Your fingers grip the hair at the back of his neck, making Jungkook pull his lips away again, breathing against your mouth heavily. 

You match the pace of his erratic breaths before deciding you’ll lead now. 

You connect your lips but instead of long, firm kisses, you move your mouth against his and he reciprocates instantly. The kisses are slow even though all you feel is urgency. His hands drop from your head and find a comfortable place on your hips, squeezing your sides every time you move them. 

Another squeeze when you whine into his mouth, lips parting and Jungkook’s tongue shyly licks into you. He’s warm and quietly groans when you slip your tongue to caress his. This feels like a man you’ve made out with before. This feels like a man that knows how to kiss you.

But unfortunately no memories get sparked despite how familiar it all is. 

Jungkook’s hands slide up your frame, fingers back on your jaw when he pulls away again, same shaky breaths fanning your skin when he pushes his forehead to yours and sighs deeply. You slowly open your eyes to see how his are slammed shut, a peculiar expression on his face with beads of sweat on his hairline that soak into your own skin.

“Jungkook…” You murmur his name, fingers still tangled in his hair. 

He doesn’t respond, he doesn’t open his eyes, he doesn’t even move.

He tries to even his breathing…he simply tries to keep himself in one piece. 

With no warning, his hands drop from you altogether and he pulls away from you, a groan leaving his mouth when he leans back into the sofa, eyes still closed. 

You’re breathless, hot, lightheaded and crazy for him. You watch him with careful eyes, but it’s hard for your gaze not to lower to the prominent bulge in his sweatpants. He’s looking defeated, head tilted back, arms weak on either side of him and doing nothing to hide how hard he’s gotten.

After several long moments and he seems to be coming down from some sort of high, he opens his eyes and glances at you. “Anything?” He asks you quietly.

You frown, “No. It’s all familiar though. Good, too.”

He leans forward, nodding at your words. “Okay. It’s okay. Don’t worry, y/n.”

You feel bad for some reason. Guilty that his touch wasn’t enough for the world of memories to return to you. Like his love wasn’t enough. You know that’s not the case but you hope it’s not what he’s thinking.

“I love you too…just so you know.” You tell him, hand on his thigh.

You see how his expression twists, forcing the weakest smile you’ve ever seen as he gives you a nod. “I uh, I’m going to grab some water.” He stands from the sofa, “We should probably call it a night.”

~

It’s 4am and you can’t fall asleep. You’re tossing and turning in your bed—your lonely bed—unable to shut your brain off. Jungkook insisted on remaining on the sofa because boundaries or whatever. You get it. But you also don’t. 

You texted Misuk and Subin letting them know that the cat was out of the bag. You know you’re married to Jungkook and you couldn’t be more pleased with the revelation. There isn’t any response from either of them yet but maybe they went to bed early. You also texted your parents but they did reply almost immediately. Your mom only texting back ‘yes my favorite son in law.’  

After the kiss with Jungkook, you two put on a movie, hoping some tension would disappear between you but no, of course not. Instead it only grew, wrapping your body and pulling you under with little space to breathe. You have a lot to think about. Obviously.

You still need to ask Jungkook about the apartment, what case he’s working on and why Misuk has developed a dislike for him. But also, unfortunately, you’re thinking about the boner he was sporting after kissing you.

You feel hot and bothered at the fact you were able to affect him like after kissing for a couple of minutes. It’s relieving since he affected you just as strongly. You understand why he said the first time you two ever kissed, you both didn’t want to stop. You didn’t want to stop this time either. 

You miss him. Badly. He’s so close but not close enough. Your couch is not your bed. Isn’t it also his bed? Ugh. You’re craving to be close to him, feeling his skin and his warmth. Isn’t he itching to cuddle with you too? Although it’s not something you’re used to but you definitely could get used to it. And fast. 

You roll around in bed, body on one side and then the other but no position feels comfortable enough to relax in. You quietly groan, head banging against the pillows and you know you need to give up. Maybe you just aren’t sleeping tonight. Eyes focused on the ceiling, the moonlight seeps into your bedroom since the blinds are cracked open as it give the walls an illuminating glow. 

You just stare. Stare at nothing. An entire hour passes by and finally, you’re feeling the energy drain from your body. You realize your mind is hardly going wild anymore. Kind of loving that your mind is suddenly blanking as no particular thoughts feel busy in your head. Body feeling heavier and eyes opening and closing more often. You can feel that maybe you will fall asleep tonight. 

You blink lazily, eyes still on the ceiling. You can finally feel sleep trying to pull you under, the moonlight lulling you, a blueish white glow that is dim and—suddenly, the entire room goes dark for a quick, fleeting moment and your entire body jolts up. Heart already pounding, you’re quick to whip your head in the direction of the window because you know a passing shadow when you see one.

Sitting upright in bed, you stare at the window, holding your breath. Did you imagine that? Did someone pass your window? An animal? Maybe it was simply clouds momentarily covering the moon.

No. 

A strange feeling crawls all over your skin, unwanted goosebumps rising. 

A strange feeling that feels fucking familiar. 

You quickly get out of the bed, walking to the window when you peek out of it but there’s nothing around that you can see. You didn’t imagine that, right?

But the strange feeling makes a home within you. 

As if what just happened feels more like a dream than something you just experienced. 

Did you imagine it? Are you remembering something? 

Either way, fuck that.

You quickly close the blinds and step away from the window. Mind suddenly busy all over again. What was that? Did someone walk by your window? Did you even actually see a shadow? Or before falling asleep did you simply begin dreaming already? Or did a memory trying forcing its way out of you…?

You stand still, completely still. Palms growing sweaty because your brain is sending a million signals to your body but you can’t makes sense of even one of them.

You feel anxious. Your chest hurts and if that wasn’t enough, your skull suddenly feels on fire, a terrible ache causing your head to be on the brink of explosion. Your hands go to your face, rubbing your cheeks as you try to relax. What is happening?

You don’t need to think about it. You turn away from your window, feet taking you towards your bedroom door when you decide to wake up Jungkook.

Approaching the living room, you hear your best friend—oh, husband—snoring away on the sofa, an immediate sigh of relief leaves your lips the closer you get.

“Jungkook…” You put a hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him awake. “Hey.” 

Jungkook takes a minute to stir from his sleep, face all scrunched up as he barely opens one eye. “Hm?” He slowly tries to sit up and get a look at you. “Hey, what’s up?” He questions you softly, a curious look all over his face.

“Jungkook.” You mumble, your anxiety rising uncomfortably. “I feel…” You can’t even finish that sentence without your voice sounding panicked and overwhelmed.

Jungkook’s eyes finally adjust, his expression alert all of the sudden as he reaches for you, urging you to take a seat on the edge of the sofa. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” His hands are on either of your shoulders, rubbing them soothingly. “What’s wrong?”

Your heart is racing. Not in excitement. In fear. In fear of what’s real or what isn’t. In fear of dreams, in fear of memories, in fear of reality. “I don’t feel good.” You admit to him, “I feel sick, I think.”

“Sick?” He questions, eyes scanning your face, though it’s dark. “Upset stomach?”

“No,” You swallow hard. “Life.”

Jungkook’s expression turns pained, finally understanding what’s going on here.

“Are you overwhelmed?” He asks you, “Stressed about things?”

“I’m,” You hate the tightness in your chest. “I’m really fucking overwhelmed. My brain isn’t…” Your voice cracks, eyes stinging. “It doesn’t make sense to me. Nothing makes sense to me. This doesn’t make sense to me.” You feel panic settle. “ I don’t know what to do. I feel fucking lost. I’m lost. This doesn’t make sense to me. I don’t—”

“—Hey, hey.” Jungkook’s rubbing your arms, trying to comfort you. “y/n. Look at me. Please look at me.” His hands leave your sides when his thumbs brush right below your eyes. He’s wiping away a few miserable tears you never realized spilled. “I’m here, love. I’m here.” 

“Jungkook…” You reach for him, head falling into his chest. “Nothing makes sense. I don’t make sense. I don’t understand—” Your breaths pick up, “I don’t know, Jungkook. This doesn’t make sense.”

“Fuck,” He sighs, jaw tightening as he rubs your back, staring at the empty space behind your body. “I’m so sorry. This isn’t fair for you…I’m sorry you had to find out like this—about us—I wish things would—”

“What?” You lift yourself from his chest, teary eyes on his. “You think I’m freaking the fuck out because of us? Jungkook,” You swallow down the burn in your throat, “This news is the only good thing I’m holding on to right now. It’s everything else that fries my fucking brain.” You point a finger at the side of your head.

He looks at you, confusion swirling in his eyes. “This isn’t because of us?”

You shake your head before you wipe at your eyes, “No. This is because every other missing detail in my life. You’re the only,” You lean forward, desperate gaze set on him and he grows so weak at your expression. “You’re the only thing keeping me together. The news about you and me does make sense.”

Audible breaths leave Jungkook’s parted lips, eyes blown wide and the uncertainty and longing becoming the skeleton inside his body and it controls him. His possessed bones pull you closer to him and you quietly gasp when he kisses you. Strong arms wrapped around you, lips pushing against yours and your entire body relaxes in Jungkook’s hold. 

His lips feel so familiar. Like your brain is itching to give you more. But it doesn’t.

He pulls away, his face falling into the crook of your neck and he breathes you in, “Tell me what it is that you need from me, y/n.” 

You don’t really know what to say.

But the answer is more obvious than you realize, “This.” You tell him. “You.”

He inhales a sharp breath, head slightly nodding before he rises from your neck and brushes the back of his hand against your cheek. “Okay. I’ll give you this. Me.”

~~~

You stare at your phone, reading over your texts with Misuk and Subin even though they should be here any moment now. They finally replied to you about Jungkook.

Subin 2:14pm

🥹 I’m so glad you’re happy about it! Imagine if you weren’t in love with him yet? Lol that would be a shocker! 

Misuk 2:15pm

👍

Misuk 2:15pm

What all has he told you?

y/n 3:09pm

just some memories about how we got together and stuff

y/n 3:10pm

its kinda the only thing that doesn’t make me feel clueless right now

Subin 3:11pm

That makes sense . Just remember to take it easy, okay?💖

y/n 3:14pm

i know 

y/n 3:14pm

im trying at least 

Misuk 3:21pm

What are you doing after 5 y/n? Maybe me and Subin can swing by for a bit

Subin 3:22pm

Yes please 💕

y/n 3:25pm

really?? Id love that! Yes come over come over!!! Jungkook is off doing things so im home alone right now lol

Misuk 4:02pm

Okay we will be there after 5 then 😀

You exit the group when your finger slides over to Jungkook’s latest text now instead.

Jungkook 5:07pm

What do you think about going on a date tomorrow? 

Jungkook 5:08pm

If you’re up for it. 

Jungkook 5:08pm

But I’d love to have a date with you.

You aren’t sure if you’ll ever get used to this new, jittery feeling. The jittery feeling that causes you to smile even without meaning to. 

You look up from your phone when you hear knocking on you front door, excitedly standing to answer because you know it’s Misuk and Subin waiting on the other side. You open the door, welcoming your friends inside your home with a grin.

“Hi.” You sing out and do a little twirl, “Welcome to my humble abode where I live, as a married woman.” 

Subin giggles, her arms wrapping around you tightly in a hug. “Hey.”

Misuk watches you, sighing as she notices your big, genuine smile. 

“Should I order us something to eat?” You gesture towards the living room so you all can sit. “I want to eat a big meal.” You rub your stomach in a cute manner.

Misuk continues to stand at the doorway and you notice she looks deep in thought before she sighs again and cracks a small smile. “You look really happy.” She tells you.

“About some things, yes.” You admit before tugging on her sleeve, “Let’s sit.”

You three find spots on your sofa that you’ve grown to adore while Subin tells you both how Garam wants to go to Italy for a romantic trip, her cute, squealing voice as she gushes about her soon to be husband. You wish you could remember your excitement before getting married.

“You’re so lucky.” You speak softly, “You will have all these wonderful memories of you and Garam and you know, actually remember them. I’m jealous of you!” You laugh, “I’m so excited for you, that you’re getting married soon.”

Subin blinks at you, blush growing on her cheeks as she smiles timidly. “Thank you. But honestly, I was so jealous of you too.” She giggles, “If you think you’re jealous of me, you’d actually be more jealous of you.”

You tilt your head, “Why?”

Misuk chuckles, “Because no one was ever more excited about getting married than you.”

“It’s true.” Subin muses at you, “You were adorable.”

“Oh.” You think about it for a moment. “What was the process like? In a friend’s perspective?”

“What do you mean?” Misuk asks you, “Like, what were you like when you were only engaged? Or what you were like after getting married?”

“Both.” You grin at her, “Did I have a bachelorette?”

Subin snorts cutely, “You had more than just a normal bachelorette.”

“Yeah,” Misuk smiles, eyes going up when she tries to recall the crazy time it was. “It was more like a whole character arc.”

You purse your lips while narrowing your eyes at nothing. “I don’t understand.”

Subin laughs, “You know, most bachelorettes are like a weekend getaway. There might be strippers. Lots of alcohol obviously. Clubs. You know, the basic stuff.”

“You had a bit of a different idea.” Misuk shakes her head, smirk on her lips. “You created an entire monthlong list of things you wanted to do. Spontaneous things. Crazy things. Simple things. Things an unmarried woman would do shamelessly.”

“A month long what now?” You’re trying to think of what the hell could be on this list.

Subin glances at Misuk before questioning her, “It was one thing to do a day for a month right?”

Misuk nods, “Yeah. Ridiculous things.”

“Why?” You question your friends and Subin lights up as she responds.

“You said you wanted to do a bunch of stuff as an individual. Independent. Something personal for you, I guess.”

“I did?”

“Yeah.” Misuk answers. “And after you two got married, you guys made a whole new bucket type list that you did together.”

“It was really cute.” Subin chimes in, “But your personal list was great. You did some questionable stuff though.”

“…Like what?” You ask.

“Remember when I told you that you flashed your boobs to some guy?” Misuk smirks again. “That was like day 14 or something.”

“What?” You gasp, “What the hell! I even mentioned it to Jungkook!”

Subin waves you off with a smile, “Don’t worry. Jungkook helped you make the list and he approved of everything on it. He knows everything.” 

Misuk rolls her eyes, “He was even a part of one of the things you had on the list. Which was totally cheating, by the way! You were supposed to write a song.”

“There’s no way I wrote a song.” You snort, not believing that.

“You didn’t.” Misuk deadpans. “Jungkook basically did it for you, that romantic fucker.”

“He wrote a song with me?” You try to control your lips. Don’t fucking smile like you’re a whipped woman in love.

“More like for you.” Misuk tells you, her back meeting the couch cushion when she sighs. “He was like that.”

“I’m glad you know about the marriage.” Subin softens, her pink cheeks shimmering. “It sucked knowing something that you didn’t.”

“Regardless how I feel about Jungkook now…” Misuk mutters quietly, “You do look really happy so I guess I can suck it up for now.” 

You frown, her implication that her feelings for Jungkook now are anything but positive makes you heart sting. “Misuk.”

“I said you look happy and it makes me happy, okay?” A corner of her mouth lifts. “Seeing you like this…well, it’s nice.”

You try to erase the frown on your face. “Thank you.”

“And I got to say…” Misuk crosses her arms over her chest, “I was totally right and I’m kind of glad I’m able to shove it in your face again.”

“Huh?” You glance between her and Subin who just giggles.

“When me and Jungkook broke up.” Misuk reminds you, “I told you it was because, one, we were better off as friends and two, because I knew that the both of you were going to end up together.”

Your jaw drops a little, remembering exactly what she said.

“You were so ridiculous.” She snickers to herself, “All like, ‘oh my god, that won’t happen!’ but it totally did happen. I love being right sometimes.” 

“Well,” you pout, cheeks warming up. “Glad you were right then.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Misuk studies you for a moment. “Oh right, my mom is stopping by in a day or two but it shouldn’t interfere with our girls weekend.”

“Your mom?” You suddenly beam at Misuk. “I would love her forever if she happens to bake her famous blueberry muffins.”

“Lucky for you I mentioned it to her already and she said she would love to make some.” 

“Can you also ask her to bake that chocolate pie?” Subin moans to herself, “I would probably leave Garam if it meant I could fuck that p—“

“Oh my god, Subin.” You gape at the girl while she stares at you dumbfounded.

“What?” She glances at Misuk now, “It’s a really good pie.”

“It really is.” She nods, “Anyway, my mom is only stopping by for a bit so I’m not sure you guys will get to see her but yes, she is bringing desserts.” 

“Hell yeah.” You honestly dream about those muffins. “Can’t wait.”

“So,” Subin bites her lip, something curious and careful about her expression. “How are things with Jungkook since you found the photo?”

“Hm,” You sink into your couch in contentment. “Interesting? Not exactly what I thought of at first.”

“What do you mean?” Misuk raises a brow, “What did you think it would be like?”

“My delusional mind somehow thought that life was like a movie and we were going to fall back in step to married life—you know, the thing I actually know nothing about—and my memories would magically return. You know? etcetera, etcetera.” You shrug even though you know how ridiculous it sounds, smile creeping on your face. “But instead, I still have all my problems. But Jungkook is great. He seems conflicted, for sure.” You admit to your friends as a heavy sigh leaves your mouth. “Obviously because this is new for me and it’s something that has to develop.”

“Right.” Misuk mumbles.

“But it feels good knowing this isn’t one sided for me. That things went somewhere with him.” 

“Yeah.” Subin reaches over to pat your leg, “Things definitely went somewhere.”

“I just know that once my memories return…” You sit more upright again, determined eyes on your best friends. “Life is going to get so much better.”

Subin and Misuk exchange a quick glance and it doesn’t go unnoticed but you ignore it. Subin pats your leg again and you expect her to say something nice as usual but you realize, neither of your friends know what to say.

~

“The park?” You glance around, the grass tall and green, water calm and the breeze just right. “Ah, you did say we come here a lot, right?”

Jungkook reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers and you try to remain cool, calm and collected even though his touch makes you yearn for him.

“Yeah.” He smiles, leading you towards that same pond on the side where the trees are. “Coming here became an escape for us.” He tells you, lifting up the picnic basket in his other hand.

You hum in contentment though you remember not loving this place as much last time you came. “Didn’t you say there’s some bad memories here though?” 

Jungkook gives a stiff nod, “Yes. But…we also have a lot of good memories here. Plus, I think if we create more good memories here,” he looks around with a hopeful expression. “Then the bad ones will eventually lose their power.” 

You squeeze his hand, “I don’t think anything could be that bad.” 

Jungkook doesn’t answer with words, just a low hum but you notice the detachment even though it only last a few seconds before he turns his head and smiles at you.

“So what’s in the basket?” You nudge his shoulder before you both stop in front of one of the trees that looks out over the pond. “A blanket I hope.”

“Of course.” Jungkook smirks at you, “I know you hate how itchy grass feels.” 

“Ah,” You eye him over, impressed. “My husband would know that, huh?”

He snorts, “Even best friend me would know that.”

“Details, details.” 

Jungkook places the basket to the grassy ground, opening it quickly as he pulls a folded blanket out, getting it all ready for you both to sit. Once sitting with crossed legs over the soft material, you watch as Jungkook pulls a few more items out. This basket reminds you of a magic, endless bag of items. 

“Oh.” Your eyes light up. “Sandwiches?” 

“Mhm.” He hands you one before pulling out his own. “And also,” He digs deeper before pulling out an assortment of fruits on a little platter. “Fruit. But we can’t forget,” he sets the fruit tray down before digging back into the basket. This basket really is like a magic bag of endless items. How the hell did this all fit? “This too.” He wiggles his brows when he shows you a box of an assortment of chocolates. 

“This is cute.” You laugh a little, “Are we going to feed each other?” 

“Is that something you’re into?” Jungkook raises an amused brow, “Because you’ve definitely never told me before.”

“Maybe I just never had a chance to discover it.” You tease him, “You know?”

“Sure.” He chuckles, “If you say so.”

“Anyway,” You admire the calm pond, “It’s a date. A first date for me. Aren’t first dates a good place for people to get to know one another, right?”

Jungkook sways into you, while his fingers are busy unwrapping his sandwich. “You want to get to know me?”

You poke his cheek innocently while you ignore your own sandwich for now. “As a lover, yes.”

“As a lover?” He glances at you, “Okay, go ahead.”

You beam at his willingness, “What are you love languages?”

“My love lang—Ah,” He nods, “That’s an online quiz you made me take one time. I don’t remember…maybe it was the quality time one?”

You giggle, “Definitely. You like quality time and my guess is acts of service.”

“Hmm, I don’t know.” He shrugs cutely.

“Are you affectionate?” You wonder, “Like to a needy degree?”

“Needy degree?” He repeats your words.

“Yeah.” You nod, “I don’t ever recall you being super touchy with anyone you briefly dated in the past. And it’s not like we ever really showed too much obvious affection either.” 

“Ah,” He gets what you mean now. “I might not be super into PDA if that’s what you mean. But in private…well, yes. Any opportunity to touch you, I take it. I love being all over you.” He admits, averting your gaze while he stares out at the pond. “And I really, really like it when you cling to me too. It makes me feel,” His chest rises before releasing a long breath of air. “Makes me feel needed by you. Loved by you. And as stupid as it might sound,” He tries to suppress a smile, eyes still on the water. “I get kind of sad when I can’t hold you whenever I want.”

His words honestly surprise you. You wouldn’t have guessed any of this especially because his touches with you are so scarce even now. How much is he holding back?

“Really?” You’d cling to him right now if he gave you the word. “That sounds like something I might enjoy too.”

Jungkook finally turns his head towards you with an adorable grin on his face, “It is.”

You feel your skin pleasantly burning. “What are some of your favorite married moments with me?”

Jungkook’s smile slightly drops and a frown that’s too cute to take seriously forms on his face, “Why don’t we wait for you to remember too?”

“No,” You rest your head on his shoulder for a moment, “I like hearing these kinds of things even if I’m unaware. It kind of gets me excited to see it from my perspective one day.” 

Jungkook studies your serious expression when you lift your face again and gaze at him. “Okay, I can share some things.” His all too cute frown disappears when he smiles again. 

“Perfect.”

“There was this time we were visiting our parents for Christmas, I think it was actually our first Christmas as a married couple now that I think about it…anyway, this might be a bit inappropriate—”

“—Thank goodness, I was hoping you’d say something that might be steamy.”

Jungkook laughs at you, “Inappropriate doesn’t automatically mean sexual, you realize that?”

“Oh so it’s not?”

“No, it is but—”

“—How inappropriate are we talking?” You smirk at him.

“If you’d let me tell my story then you’d find out.” He scolds you, “Anyway, we were walking from your parent’s house to mine, they were all already over there, by the way. You took forever to get ready and it was already dark by the time we walked over. And you remember my old car?”

You eye him suspiciously. “…Yes. The magnet.”

“Yup.” He bites his lip while raising a brow quickly. “You made a comment about how you know there’s a long list of girls that I had in the backseat of that car.”

You roll your eyes.

“It’s not even a long list by the way.” His hand goes to your thigh, giving it a squeeze. “But you said and I quote, ‘I wonder if we were actually close in high school, you would have gotten me in the backseat of your car too.’ Which of course just made my imagination run a little wild.” He chuckles, “It almost felt like a fantasy once you said it.” 

“You fantasized about what it would have been like or what?”

“I didn’t really have to rely on my imagination for long.” He admits, voice dipping lower. “I told you that you could easily erase any trace of another girl from that car if you really wanted to.”

Your eyes go wide, “You did not fuck me in that death trap in front of our childhood homes on Christmas.” 

“And if I did?” He challenges you with a sly smile.

“I wouldn’t have let you! I became just another girl in your backseat, oh my god.”

Jungkook’s fingers dance across your thigh, his eyes staring down at the little patterns he’s drawing on your jeans. “Don’t worry.” He says quietly, “Only think of you when I remember that car now.”

You act annoyed, but his touch, even through your jeans…feels enticing. “I better be.”

Jungkook chuckles, finally bringing his hand back to his own lap. “Another favorite memory is when you and I got really, and I mean really bored…and we decided to do something we might have liked to do together if we were actually friends as kids.” 

Your lips form an ‘o’ when you clearly look intrigued, “Okay, that sounds pretty cool. What did we do?”

Jungkook closes his eyes, lips spreading super wide as he recalls it. “We made a homemade movie.”

You immediately nudge his shoulder playfully, “Oh my. A homemade movie? Is this steamy too?”

He scrunches his face, “Something we would have liked as kids, y/n.”

Your teasing smile drops, “Oh yeah.”

“Anyway,” He shakes his head, grin reappearing. “It was so bad yet also so good. We made a scary movie in the house. I’m talking about dramatic light flickering, shadowy figures walking by, cabinets opening on their own and of course, the cheesiest dialogue. I still remember my favorite part. ‘who’s there?’” His voice gets high pitched as he starts dramatically looking around him, getting into character, “’whoever you are…” He pauses again as you stare at him completely amused. 

“wait!” He shrieks, you realize the one he’s mocking is your character obviously...a safe assumption. “It got so cold!” He hugs himself, rubbing his arms dramatically. “Are you a…” He snaps his head to the side, brows comically furrowed. “A ghost?!’” His eyes crinkle as he laughs. “And then it cuts to a scene where the lights start flickering nonstop with creepy music in the background but the best part is, you can clearly see my hand in the background, flipping the light switch on and off.” 

You snort when you hear that part, laughter erupting because you can definitely imagine it. 

You and Jungkook laugh with ease, eyes connected and you realize how natural this all feels. How easy it is getting into this new groove with him and you realize it’s probably because your brain, deep down, feels how familiar and well known this all is. Instead of feeling as nervous as you were previously, you realize this is just you and your best friend. But with a more deeply connected and intimate bond.

You really can’t wait to uncover more of that.

“I’m having so much fun with you.” You tell Jungkook with soft eyes. “I can’t believe this is my life for the last nine years.” 

You hope this bliss isn’t too good to be true. Because you clearly see Jungkook’s lips twitch while an odd look flickers in his eyes. He faces forward again, throat bobbing when he swallows. “You know we’ve barely touched our food, right?” He chuckles, the detached look from earlier revisits and you’re wondering what he isn’t telling you. But you choose to be blind because right now, this magic with Jungkook is all you can see.

~

“Home sweet home.” You yawn out as you and Jungkook walk through your front door. You bend down to unbuckle the straps of your shoes, Jungkook’s hand on your hip as he helps keep you balanced. “It’s only after 8, should we watch a movie or something?”

Jungkook hums out cutely while slipping off his own shoes, “I don’t know…I thought maybe the gentleman thing to do would be dropping you off after our date?”

You turn to look behind you, incredulous look on your face. “Yeah, right.” You scoff, “I’d be mad at you if you did that.”

Jungkook laughs, “I know.” 

You drag your feet to the sofa, plopping down onto it with a satisfied sigh, “Come sit with me.”

Jungkook follows behind, sitting right next to you. No awkward distance this time.

“You know,” Your pointer finger taps against his leg as you look at him, “You can bring your stuff here…you don’t have to pretend to live at that shitty apartment anymore.”

Jungkook leans back, eyes on the ceiling instead of looking at you, “You don’t know what it’s uh, what it’s like to live with me so we should probably not jump into that yet.”

“Jungkook,” You stop tapping against his thigh, instead you rest your palm against it. “If it really bothers you that much you can just stay in the guest bed—”

“—No.” He shakes his head, “That’s okay. Seriously it’s okay.”

“Okay…you’ve been sleeping here most nights anyway so I don’t really see the big deal. That apartment isn’t like you at all.” You watch his reactions to your words carefully, “Doesn’t it make you feel uncomfortable to be in there? There’s nothing in that apartment that reflects you…doesn’t that make you feel like you’re staying in a strangers place?”

“It’s fine.” He mumbles and you notice the detachment once again but then he turns his head to look at you, his features turning softer. “That’s how you felt first coming to this house, right?”

Well, yeah. You nod and when he frowns you immediately wave him off with your other hand, “It doesn’t feel like that anymore. Somehow when you’re here it feels way more like home.”

You can tell he tries not to smile at that but his lips betray him, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You confirm. “Anyway, my mom said that her and your mom are throwing us a little celebration now that I know about us.” 

Jungkook brows pinch, “They’re doing…what?”

“I don’t know, I think they’re excited that they don’t have to pretend like we aren’t together anymore. You know how our moms are…” You chuckle, “They want any excuse to have a party.”

Jungkook nods though he looks conflicted, “Is that really a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be? We’re going there next weekend anyway, right? Plus, they wouldn’t listen even if we said we didn’t want it.” 

“Well, that’s true.” He sighs in defeat. “They’re a force when they’re together.”

“Hey, is Pingu still around?” You suddenly look excited. “He’s not still fighting dogs on the streets, right?”

“Pingu?” Jungkook lifts his back off the couch cushion when he leans into you with a curious expression. “Pingu…the cat?”

You nod slowly, “Who else would I be talking about?”

“You remember Pingu?” He glances to the side, gears working in his head. “Or did our moms mention Pingu?”

“No?” You suddenly grow confused. “Why wouldn’t I remember Pingu?”

Jungkook’s face morphs, looking more fixed than before. “y/n…” He meets your eye again before he’s piecing it together. “Mom didn’t adopt Pingu until just a few years ago. I think we had only been married a couple years…but you remember him?” 

Your mouth falls open to speak but suddenly you’re realizing he’s right…you don’t remember Pingu ever existing as a 24 year old so that means… “Holy shit.” Your eyes begin expanding as your mouth falls open further. “I remember Pingu.”

You remember Pingu!

Jungkook mirrors your exact expression, a giant, excitement filled smile starts growing on his face and then he’s grabbing your hands, “y/n, you remember…” Now he’s laughing, pure joy in the sound. “You remember that fucking cat but not our wedding.” He grips your hands tighter, still exuding his excitement. You can’t but laugh too.

“Yes!” You squirm in your spot, completely thrilled. “I do!”

You both relax, excited eyes on each other when you both soften, his thumbs now brushing against your fingers, “That’s amazing.” He speaks much quieter now, front teeth momentarily sinking into his bottom lip as he smiles. “You really remembered something. This is…”

“Good.” You finish, you match his smile with your own. “I remember that damn cat.”

He tilts his head with a benevolent glint in his eyes, “More will come.” He whispers. “The memories, I mean.”

“No matter how insignificant, I’m happy to remember something so normal.” You tell him but Jungkook shoots you an amused grin.

“Insignificant?” He squeezes your hands. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell my mom you just described her cat like that.”

You can’t help but laugh, “Life is crazy, huh?”

Jungkook’s smile falters but he doesn’t lose the softness on his face, “You have no idea.” 

You pull your hand away from his when you raise a finger and tap the side of your head, “Eh, I might have a clue.” You chuckle. 

Jungkook’s lips tug down, serious eyes on you when he leans closer to you, “Yeah but no matter how crazy…it’s better if we’re together.”

You feel your heart whisper to you in steady, rhythmic beats. Something about its desire to break through your ribcage, falling into your belly with adrenaline pumping in love, in thrill, and into the hands of this man. It wants nothing more than for Jungkook to steal it away.

You take a breath. Eyes focused on him and you don’t blame your heart for feeling this way.

“We are together.” You whisper, your hands going to either sides of his warm face and he nods, looking lost in your touch. Your heart wants to surrender yourself to this man and you are so willing to oblige. As if he wasn’t already the one who owns it. 

“Yeah.” He pulls one of your hands from his face and brings it to his lips, pecking your palm with light, fluttering kisses while he watches you watch him.

“Hey,” You call for him slowly, dreamily, lost in this moment. “How’s…”

“How’s what?” He places one last kiss to your wrist now before lowering your hand.

You suddenly crack a small smile making him eye you curiously.

“How’s our sex life?” You blurt with complete shamelessness.

Jungkook’s eyebrows climb slowly towards his hairline, suddenly looking taken aback before he snorts to himself, a chuckle at the back of his throat. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you asked that.” He shakes his head, “You really…you’re really asking me that?”

You show him a sheepish smile. “Why not? I mean, if you don’t want to tell me…I could always just,” You look around innocently, “You know, find out for myself.” You speak slowly, eyes finding his again.

Jungkook frowns a little, “Not yet.” He swallows, clearly trying to clear his mind from the image of you finding out just how incredible the sex is between you both.

“Are you going to give me another speech on taking things slow?” You tease him.

Jungkook looks pouty, meaning your teasing is successful. “Yes.” He says with a firm nod and furrowed brows. “It isn’t fair for you…I know you in ways you don’t even know that I know. You don’t…I just know you differently. I don’t think it’s fair.”

You release a long puff of air, “You’re the only one who sees it like that, Jungkook.”

“We have to…develop things like it’s the beginning—for now—so please…let’s not rush, you know?”

You chew your lips for a moment before asking, “Did we wait a while back then too?”

Jungkook’s face falls before an embarrassed look flashes across his face, cheeks heating up. He’s so cute, you think. “Um, no. Honestly, we did sleep together the first night.”

You smirk, “Oh really?”

You watch a blush darkens his cheeks. “Yeah.”

“Hmm,” You scoot a little closer to him, leaning your face closer with seductive eyes. “Do you think you could tell me about it?”

Jungkook feels himself drawn closer to you, but he glances away for a second. “Well…we had sex.”

“No, no.” You give him a knowing look. “Can you describe it to me?”

Jungkook releases a shaky breath, lips curved into a small grin. “You want me to describe the night we first had sex?”

“Yeah.” You tell him, “But I want to know the details. From start,” You pause, leaning more forward when your warm breath is at his ear. “To finish.”

He tenses at your close proximity but he doesn’t have it in him to back away, your mouth at his ear, your hands steadying yourself on his thighs with how you’re leaning into him. 

“You want details?” He quietly chuckles, his face feeling hot. “You want to know all the things we did? What I did to you?”

“Mhm.” Your lips graze the shell of his ear, the tickle making his hands act on instinct when he lightly grab your hips, a deep breath leaving his mouth, disappointed his hands moved on their own. “What you did to me…what I did to you.”

“I told you after we first kissed we didn’t want to stop.” He says, voice lower. “I swear I could have just kissed you the entire night,”

“Really?” Your hands slide up to the middle of his thighs, his muscles tense beneath you. 

“Yeah…” He swallows hard, your lips still at his ear when he feels your breaths buzzing around his skin. 

“How did I kiss you, Jungkook?”

He closes his eyes when he feels your lips pressing against his ear. “Um,”

You smile against his ear before you finally pull back a little, your face now just inches from his, his eyes opening again. “When we kissed…did you get as hard as you did the other day?”

Jungkook’s fingers dig into your skin as he lets out a frustrated low groan, “y/n.” He’s warning you.

“What?” You smile. “I’m just wondering how it went, that’s all.”

“You really want to know how that night went?” He asks you, eyes growing darker, maybe heavier.

“You’re right…I should just let you speak, huh?”

“I kissed you,” He begins, “And the moment my mouth was on yours, I felt like I was going to explode. You kissed me back. So fucking needy, did you know that? That you’re needy?”

You stare at him, lip twitching. “I could guess since it’s you.”

Jungkook chuckles, “Mm, you’re right. But do you know how handsy you are too?”

“Was I not handsy enough for you the other night?” You challenge him with a dark gaze. 

He keeps his eyes on you, so focused as his muscles grow more and more tense, your hands still sliding up his thighs. “I won’t answer that.” He says.

“What happened after we made out?” You continue to push the conversation.

Jungkook eyes close, like he’s seeing the vision of it behind his eyelids. His lips part when soft breaths escape. “I kissed you any place you’d let me.”

“I think I’d let you kiss me anywhere.”

He nods, eyes still closed, satisfied smile lifting his lips. “Yeah.”

“So then?”

“I kissed your neck, sucked your skin until you grew impatient with me.”

“Hm,” You watch him carefully, his flushed face making you see the effect on him. You lean forward again, his eyes suddenly opening when your lips attach themselves to the side of his neck. He doesn’t stop you. He only continues.

“I sucked your skin until you were mewling beneath me.” His voice sounds hoarse, eyelids growing heavy again when he feels how you do the same thing to him now. “I kissed down your body, taking your clothes off.”

“Mhm.” You hum against his skin, lips pressing against the side of his neck over and over, fingers pressing deeply into his thighs.

“Fuck,” He groans lowly, “I…touched you everywhere. Feeling you with my hands and my mouth.” He doesn’t realize how his hands that grip your hips are jerking you forward, your body obeying his unintentional commands. “How I tasted you…fucked you with my tongue, my f-fingers.” His hands slide to your lower back, “You felt so tight, y/n. W-Wondered how you’d take my cock.”

You pause the ministrations against his sensitive skin, an intense ache flooding the senses of your core. “And how did I take it?” You breathe heavily against him, “Hm?” Jungkook urges you forward again and before either of you can make sense of it, your knees are on either sides of his thighs, seated in his lap while your chests push up against one another.

“You took me so well…” He looks up into your eyes, a lewdness swirling messily in his dark irises. You bite onto your lip, core barely pressed over the bulge you didn’t get to feel the other night. You keep your hips still though. The aching between your legs only growing stronger at the lack of friction. 

“I hardly fucked you for three minutes before you were creaming my cock, you know that?” 

“Sounds like you knew what you were doing to me.”

“Sounds like you were desperate to have me inside you.” He retorts with a lazy smirk, eyelids half open at this point. 

“Keep telling me.” You softly command, your ass scooting back on his thighs a little so you aren’t sitting directly over his hard length anymore. 

He think you’re being wise.

“I thought we were going to leave it at that but no,” He closes his eyes again. Imagining it. “You crawled over me and took my cock into your mouth. Fuck, you swallowed all of my cum and you—"

You sneak a hand between your bodies, your palm pressing down onto his bulge, making him choke on his words, losing his focus. His eyes remain closed when his brows pull together. 

“Keep going.” You begin rubbing your palm against him, his resolute crumbling when he feels how you touch him over his jeans. It’s not exactly comfortable but it’s fucking relief.

“Um,” He struggles to keep it together. His breaths have grown heavy and erratic, chest rising and falling with each wordless moment that passes.

“Did you like the way I sucked your dick, Jungkook?” You ask him, your core dripping wet just under your pants. 

His tongue pushes against his cheek, trying so hard to focus. The concentrated look on his face makes you so turned on. He’s losing his control, you can tell.

“Your-Your mouth is heaven, love.” He pushes the words out, “Your pussy is too.”

You grind down onto his thighs, unable to keep yourself still anymore. The friction against your clit makes you softly moan above him, your hand pressing harder on the bulge that continues to grow. 

You take the next natural step…other hand going to the band of his jeans, fingers going to the top button when Jungkook, much to his dismay, opens his panicked eyes when his fingers wrap around your wrist to stop you.

“No,” He breathes out roughly, “We shouldn’t. We can’t…y/n we shouldn’t.”

Even he hates what he’s saying, you can tell.

You remove both of your hands from his body, slight sting to your ego when you nod in understanding. He shakes his head, hating how rejected you look.

“Hey,” His hand goes to your jaw, eyes still coated in lust but he tries to clear the fog. “You have no idea how badly I want to be touched by you. How badly I want to touch you.” He bores into your eyes, “But we can’t. Not now. We…” He looks how you feel. “We just shouldn’t.”

You know he might be right no matter how much you don’t want him to be. You want him so badly in every way possible. But you sigh, smiling for him and he immediately relaxes.

“I get it.” You say, “But just so you know…I don’t doubt that you want me too. I can feel how badly you want me, Jungkook.” You lean down slowly, hesitant because you’re afraid it’ll send the wrong message. But Jungkook closes his eyes the moment he realizes you want to give him a kiss. He accepts it. Kissing you back softly. Well, It seems you’re both needy.

~~~

You and Jungkook sit across from one another at the dining room table, amused glances and smiles getting exchanged by you both while you munch on the lunch he made. After the little accidental fun you had together last night, you both decided to relieve the tension with some movies to distract this feeling between you.

He slept on the sofa like usual. And you got off by yourself in your bedroom with him in your mind when you came. 

You know Misuk is going to be over at any moment. She said her mom did in fact make blueberry muffins and she was going to drop some off to you while they’re still fresh. 

Once you’re done eating, you wash yours and Jungkook’s dishes in the sink when there is knocking on your front door.

“Can you get it? It’s Misuk with the muffins,” You inform Jungkook, he nods in understanding, feet taking him out of the kitchen while you continue to wash the dishes from his cooking. 

In the distance you can hear the door opening and shutting and the slight mumbling of voices. You’re wondering what they’re talking about since they aren’t exactly the best of friends right now. You’re curious but you don’t want to snoop. Besides, they’ll probably be walking in here at any moment.

You’re scrubbing a pan when you feel bothered from the inside out. They are still mumbling in the living area. You won’t snoop.

But well, you want to pretend you aren’t snooping but with your back pressed against the wall and ears on high alert while you try to breathe silently as possible—well, you aren’t sure that this isn’t snooping. Especially because you left the sink water running so it isn’t suspicious.

You try to focus on their voices and you’re definitely making out words.

“You don’t have to keep reminding me, Misuk.” Jungkook grumbles. “But once again, I’ll remind you. These are doctor’s orders.”

“Oh?” Misuk scoffs, “How fucking convenient for you.” 

“Can you keep your voice down?” He obviously scolds her. “Look, it makes sense, okay?”

“How the fuck does it make sense?”

Your hands feel clammy as you listen, concern etching itself onto your face.

“Because I’m the one who it closest to y/n. Obviously I—”

“—Closest?” Misuk spits out the word. “That’s fucking hilarious, Jungkook. ‘Closest’” You can hear how she mocks it, your confusion growing so incredibly strong at their exchanges.

“Misuk—”

“—Closest.” She repeats one last time. “She hasn’t spoken one fucking word to you in two years.”

You feel your blood run cold. Heart completely stopping. 

What does she mean? What does that mean? Two years what? You haven’t spoken to Jungkook in two years? No, that’s not…

“But right,” Misuk lowers her tone even more. “Closest.”

~

Next

#bts #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #jungkook angst #bts angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fanfic #jungkook fics #Kim namjoon #Kim seokjin #seokjin smut #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #Kim taehyung #our time chapter 4

[stigandr-the-cat]

Butcher and the Beauty

summary : you a sweet assistant for Agent Laswell with the assigned integration partner of Ghost. The reader is gender, race-neutral, and described as being fat. Ghost wants to die by the thigh. Ghost is also a bit of a freak.

TW : MDNI, no smut but graphic violence is alluded to with some on page. No use of Y/N. The reader does want to have their nails painted. 2nd person POV my beloved.

masterlist

Your fingernails are a mess. Bit too long, one nail a little jagged, cuticles further up on the nail bed than you like. Really you need to make time to go to the salon this weekend. Oh didn't Kate say something about going Thursday with her wife? Maybe you could join them unless it’s a date night wouldn't want to be third-wheeling on that. 

Now what design should you get? Roses? It's too early in the spring for that. Cherry Blossoms would be too basic though. You could do Crocus or Ivy, that would look pretty with maybe a more neutral background. 

A wet crack that you know is bone breaking interrupts your thoughts, followed by a scream that has that broken scrape to its edges that comes from too much use. Looking up you see only the broad back of night that is Ghost at his bloody and violent work. Along the edges, you see a twitching body that toes that line of just being a split seams sack of meat and broken bones that sometimes makes noise. 

You didn't think you would get used to this part of your job as Kate's assistant. But after one particular 'guest', whose crimes had started with animal abuse and ended with mass murder had said things you did your best to forget, well you got over it real quick.  

Your stopwatch buzzes. Your part of this interrogation is about to begin. The beauty to his butchery. The soft pretty thing untouched by the grizzly display. The one holding his leash. It is a dynamic that makes you one of the best integrator teams. Just after John and Kate who have this disappointed parents front they put up that makes even the hardest crack in shocking ways. 

(Kate has become accustomed to being called 'mommy' much to her horror she had confessed over drinks one night.)

"Ghost love," Word like the whisper of a whip with how ridged the Lieutenant becomes. "Give the man a break please." He nodded, turning on his heel and coming to your side like a loyal guard dog. 

He tugs off one blood-soaked glove revealing his pale hand tattooed with its bones, like an x-ray in living motion. You felt positively Victorian in how your heart speeds up and air stuck in your throat at the display. The reveal of hand and wrist is as intimate as a lover wearing gossamer lace.  Wordlessly you handing him a bottle of water brushing gently the violence-warmed skin. His eyes are as sharp as the knives he hones flickering from the contact point to your gently parted lips. Crinkling in what you hoped was a fanged smile he tugs the bottom of his mask up to drink. Letting you catalog each slivered scar that graced his skin the way stars do the night sky. 

"Pretty thing so soft and just as sweet." His voice is rough as dark as the shadowed corners of a haunted house. Setting the bottle down next to your hand his fingers gently skimming your soft skin, both of you shivering at the contact. It is no wonder, you think, that there is a betting pool of when you two would finally knock boots. 

"You're going a little extra rough with the prisoner today, did something happen this weekend?" Asking him with one of your softest voices the one for crying children and feral animals, all creatures that were likely to bite. 

Rolling his eyes. Hip settling against the table's edge. Boots shifting to slide along the edges of your feet. "Tried to find a good shag yea? But ended up with a twiggy thing waist big 'round as my arm. Got 'er all warmed up and dripping but when I go to finally get mine. Couldn't fit, well she tries to be sweet begs me for a minute to just go 'head. So I do but end up twisting my PA. Had to take it out 'cus it was making me swell up and bruise. Bloody tip got a dent, a bruise, and is swollen fucking 'ell it's uncomfortable." 

You try not to simultaneously wince and laugh. "Poor thing." Feeling a little bold you rub circles along the back of his bare hand. His eyes flick to watch as he slides his hand closer to you a silent invitation to continue. 

"You know what lean meat is good for? Fucking casseroles. Naw lovie, need me something marbled with fat, nice and tender. A good ribeye or brisket just falls apart on my fingers, something I can sink my teeth into." He leans in closer, you can see a spray of blood, like freckles, across the cheekbones of his mask. Brown eyes like grave dirt, the soil rich from blood soaking it.  "Need something soft like you." 

You tremble anticipation clawing along your spine across the plane of ribs and hipbones the chilled fire like a cautious lover. "Oh?" 

"Soft things like you, know how to have fun. Can slap that pretty arse and toss you around. Bruise those thick thighs while kneeling at your feet. Spend hours making you moan my name." His ungloved hand has moved to grab your chin tilting your face up. The touch is blister hot, phosphorus at ignition deadly, and oh so bright. 

You open your mouth the tip of your tongue grazing his thumb. Sucking at the digit and swirling it in your mouth for a moment before freeing it with a pop. He growls like a starving dog. 

"Oh for fucks sake just ask me your bloody questions so I don't have to watch anymore." The prisoner spits out a tooth and blood. Dangling from the ceiling like a cow after slaughter carcass dripping blood. 

Ghost's eyes flash with irritation at the interruption. You can't help but smile. Circling your fingers around his wrist with a far more intimate moment in mind as you tease him. He groans and your thighs part at the sound desire a bubbling pool. 

"Give me and what's mine a minute." He snarls out, your eyes flicker down his body watching with a pleased buzz as he adjusts himself. 

"yours huh?" Whispering as your eyes lock back with his. Something like blood covering volcanic glass after it's slashed across the throat of a caught thing is spoken of between your bodies. An offering you give on bent knee or a back against cotton sheets. 

"Not going to let you go, ever. Not when I've got my teeth in you." Its threat and promise tied with red silk ribbons and iron padlocked chains. As inevitable as death. Not that you mind. 

#babbling.brook.writing #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley cod #call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader

[blueskittlesart]

okay so feel free to delete this message for asking you about TP crimes. but I'm curious if you have any purely aesthetic thoughts about the Link + Zelda designs, as well as the Zora designs, in TP? like how do you feel about the designs on their own, even apart from your distaste for the general atmosphere + story. again feel free to ignore this for TP crimes and no harm done!

yeah ok. disclaimer for those who don't know. i don't like twilight princess and i think the art direction was almost as bad as the story. do not argue with me about this. let's get into it. link first

from a purely character-design standpoint I don't think this design is bad, but I don't think it's all that special either. it's very evocative of oot link, which I'm SURE was intentional based off everything else in the game. it does a decent job of complicating the outfit to the standards of tp's setting without going too overboard in terms of little details. the long hat looks stupid but i understand what they were going for. my biggest critique of the design itself is the desaturated color scheme, which I understand was present in the game at large but. I don't like it. I honestly do think that taking away the vibrance and colorfulness of loz takes a lot of the fun out of it. these games were originally for the NES. we're working off of 8-color pixel graphics. link's tunic should be eye-searingly green no matter how dark and brooding you want his story to be, because without that brightness and vibrance the games cease to feel like loz imo.

anyway. the real PROBLEM with this design, and with most of the art direction in tp, lies in how it was actually handled in-game. twilight princess was a game for the wii & gamecube, released in 2006. while advancements in graphics were GETTING THERE, the models were still relatively low-poly. The franchise had already seen a lot of success working with low-poly models in oot and ww, specifically because they leaned into the limitations of low-poly graphics and went for a more cartoonish, unrendered art style which made the blocky models seem purposefully stylized instead of limiting. twilight princess, however, did a complete 180 with the art direction and decided to attempt to HIDE the low-poly graphics behind over-rendered textures. this combined with the desaturated color palette of the character designs makes everything look very flat and lifeless.

in every close shot of link throughout this game i was constantly distracted by how awful the textures made the model look. the rendered folds of his tunic being slapped onto a flat surface, the rendering in his hair being an obvious coverup for the fact that it's one mass on the model with no physics, etc etc. the textures seldom rendered perfectly smoothly on the wii either, so the painted rendering would be strangely pixelated or blurry compared to the model's sharp edges. the game's lighting also seems to operate entirely in harsh black gradients, making the color and rendering choices on the model all the more obvious. Again, I understand that these are limitations of the medium the devs were working with, but i think that art direction that takes the medium into account and works WITH it instead of AGAINST it is almost always more successful than attempts to cover your ass after the fact, and i think that twilight princess could have been a more visually pleasing game if the art direction hadn't been so focused on covering the flatness of the models with hyper realistic textures.

onto zelda. again, we have a theme here of taking the oot design and overcomplicating it. i think the color choices are better here than they are with link, but i would have liked a brighter pink on her bodice. I also think that the dress's neckline was... pretty obviously a sexualization attempt. there's a reason men love this zelda. imo if they were going to keep oot zelda's shoulder armor they should also have kept the breastplate-ish piece in the middle and the high neckline from that dress. you cant say ooh look shes a swordfighter see she has armor!! and then leave her fucking jugular exposed. no wonder she got possessed by ganon immediately. other than my general complaints with the over-rendering i don't have much else to say about her tho. shes fine

the zora tho... this is where i start to get pissed off. HOW ARE YOU GONNA DESIGN A SPECIES OF FISH PEOPLE BASED ON TROPICAL FUCKING FISH AND THEN REFUSE TO PUT A SINGLE SATURATED COLOR INTO ANY OF THEIR DESIGNS. the way these designs could all be improved by about a hundred percent if you just TURNED UP THE GODDAMN SATURATION. GIVE ME A REAL RED. IM BEGGING. UGGHHHHHHHHHH. i also think the ugly rendering REALLY shows through on these guys because they don't have a lot of detail on them to cover it all up. someone needs to explain to these designers that you don't shade with black. like. god. the designs truly are not bad in terms of like creature design i dont think but they are so DESPERATELY in need of color that it's fucking distracting. color is not your enemy guys please

#tp critical #twilight princess art direction my detested. bane of my fucking existence #COLOR IS NOT EVILLLL YOU CAN PUT SATURATED COLORS IN YOUR DESIGNS ITS OK. ITS NOT GOIGN TO BITE YOU #asks

[reasoningdaily]

As the world braced for the verdict of the Chauvin trial, in Columbus, Ohio, there was another fatal shooting of 16-year-old Black girl named Ma’Khia Bryant. Many who watched the graphic and gut-wrenching bodycam video have decried the officer who deemed it necessary to use lethal force to defuse a physical altercation involving the Black teenager.

When juxtaposing what feels like a never-ending pattern of police brutality against Black people with the treatment of white perpetrators, there is an obvious disparity that highlights the pervasive nature of systemic racism. White gunmen who commit heinous crimes are often treated differently, with police being able to apprehend white suspects and bring them safely into custody.

Three recent examples of this: 21-year-old Dylann Roof, who was safely arrested after entering Emanuel African Methodist Church in Charleston, South Carolina and killing nine people in 2015. What’s even more disturbing is reports that police brought Roof Burger King following his arrest. In 2020, during protests of the shooting of Jacob Blake in Kenosha, Wisconsin, a 17-year-old gunman, Kyle Rittenhouse, used an AR-15 assault rifle to kill two people and injured a third. Law enforcement apparently offered Rittenhouse and a group of militia members water at some point before the shooting took place.

In March 2021, after a gunman shot and killed eight people, with six of them being Asian, Cherokee County Sheriff’s Office Director of Communications remarked that the shooter was having a “really bad day.” These comments drew public outrage at the humanization of the mass shooter. Black youth aren’t given the opportunity to be humanized, with a number of tragic stories illustrating this.

Over a decade ago, 7-year-old Aiyana Stanley Jones was fatally shot by Detroit police who were looking for a murder suspect. In 2012, the world was gripped by the killing of 17-year-old Trayvon Martin, who was shot by neighborhood watch captain George Zimmerman, who thought Martin looked suspicious. In 2014, a Black youth named Tamir Rice was shot by police. Rice, who was only 12 years old, was thought to be 20 years old. In 2015, a video of McKinney, Texas police officer Eric Casebolt went viral. Casebolt was filmed yelling at Black teenagers and threw one teenage girl to the ground while kneeling on her back. The video sparked rightful outrage at the excessive force used on the young girl.

Examining patterns of police treatment towards Black youth highlights a prominent issue: the adultification bias, which is the phenomenon where adults perceive Black youth as being older than they actually are. When the adultification bias was examined, one study found that Black girls as young as five years old were perceived as being less needing of protection and nurturing, compared to their white counterparts.  

Research indicates that Black boys are perceived as older and less innocent when compared to their white counterparts. “Black boys can be seen as responsible for their actions at an age when white boys still benefit from the assumption that children are essentially innocent,” shared Phillip Atiba Goff, Ph.D., who authored a study examining this phenomenon in more detail. Black girls are treated disparately compared to their white counterparts and are more likely to be seen as older, while having to navigate the combined effects of racism and sexism.

The adultification bias contributes to the continued harm and abuse that Black youth face, not just at the hands of law enforcement, but also in the education system. When Black women and girls are mistreated, harmed and abused, it is less likely to be reported on. The Say Her Name campaign co-founded by scholar Kimberlé Crenshaw was designed to bring greater awareness to this issue.

Disrupting the adultification bias must first begin with awareness that this problem even exists. Despite the wealth of evidence detailing the ways it manifests, greater understanding is necessary. Training about the adultification bias should be mandatory, especially for folks working with and around Black youth populations. Understanding the ways that the adultification bias manifests as well as how to mitigate this type of bias is imperative.

Although research indicates that those who are marginalized are likely to internalize some of the biases and stereotypes about their own identity group, it is likely that having more Black people working with Black youth populations would lessen the occurrence of the adultification bias. One can assume that having experience and exposure to Black youth may increase one’s understanding, and limit the adultification bias from taking place. Resources must be allocated to support education about the adultification bias and how it can be interrupted. Lastly, rather than resorting to punitive measures when dealing with Black youth, we must encourage the learning of de-escalation and conflict resolution strategies.

#How The Adultification Bias Contributes To Black Trauma #adultification of Black Children #adultification #Black Children Matter

[carovolturi]

Heavily based on the trio's relationship dynamic in @thecarnivorousmuffinmeta's "The Less Than Immaculate Conception" and "Two Men and a Baby," if you're curious (and also if you're not 🤪).

If we're really going to be nitpicky Aro and Carlisle's heads should arguably be switched but the Photoshop looked so much better like this and as a former Yearbook Editor-in-Chief I could not commit such bald-faced, heinous crimes against graphic design worse than the ones I already committed while making this.

I still might cave and make it later though.

#twilight #twilight renaissance #twilight shitpost #twilight meme #volturi #aro volturi #carlisle cullen #edward cullen #the carnivorousmuffinmeta #the less than immaculate conception #two men and a baby #photoshop

[mara-xx217]

Ending H (Fear & Hunger) Ch. 1- A Guard's Comfort

This is a little Dead Dove series I started on AO3. If you want some proper nastiness then look no further lol.

So many different ways to die and to fail your quest in Fear & Hunger… Why not explore a few?

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Rape/Noncon, Monster, Monster Biology, Graphic Description, Bodily Fluids, Torture, Blood and Gore, Anal, Gaping, Creampie

A sharp, stabbing sensation jolted you awake. Somewhere behind your knee became sore, then felt as though the fires of the Sulphur Pit were coursing through your blood. You wanted to scream, but the moment you opened your mouth and breathed in the air, you gagged, vomiting uncontrollably as the scent of bodily fluids and decay soured your nose and invaded your mouth. Behind your other knee, the stab from before was mirrored, placed in such a way that it produced pure agony in your body and nearly made you lose control of your bodily functions. 

You couldn’t. You couldn’t do it. This will kill you, won’t it? The burning has infiltrated every expanse of your body. Every nerve was a light, stinging and throbbing in time to your rapid heart beat as you struggled to not choke on your own vomit or saliva or tears. The sensation of cool, moist air hitting your skin was agony, just as was the pressure that enveloped your hips and the crushing grip around one of your shoulders was, too. 

The cool stone floor beneath you should have provided some relief to the burning sensation that engulfed your body, but it only fanned the flames and twisted it into a purely hellish experience. You were prone on your stomach, you think, unable to lift your head, your arms, your legs- You couldn’t so much as twitch a finger or wiggle a toe! You shifted on the floor, as though something- or someone- pulled you backwards. Again, there is searing pain as the flesh of what might be your rear is grabbed and pulled apart, as though something was inspecting you.

W-What was happening?!  

The monstrosity that felled you earlier had incapacitated you, stinging you with the grotesque appendage that dangled between its leg and filling you with its venom. Every touch would be painful to you, from the most brutal of assaults to the mere whisper of a breath against your ear. It was the design of the monstrous guard, to deliver pain and suffering and terror and humiliation onto any that trespass in the dungeon. And it would be he- and many more- that would punish you for your grave crime. 

You can feel what could be two thumbs press into the outermost rim of your asshole. Your eyes are wide but you can do nothing other than panic and scream internally as you are pulled further apart. Cool air was fire against your sensitive skin as it touched parts of your body that were ill accustomed to such sensations. Tears blinded you and burned as they left a trail that cooled in its wake. 

This isn’t happening, right?

Even in your paralyzed state, your body reacted to the feeling of something thick and sharp pressing against the cleft of your ass. Your core tightened and something inside of you felt like it was lurching forwards, as though you were in a boat rocking in the water and your insides were sloshing around and unable to find their place inside of you. But you weren’t moving and the pressure that you felt threatening to pop past the virgin barrier of your ass made you feel faint and sick to your stomach. 

It won’t fit. It won’t fit- DOESN’T HE UNDERSTAND THIS?! YOU WILL FUCKING DIE-!!!

It wasn’t merely a physical pain that you felt. It was also all the traumas that come with being raped by a monster, in a physical and a moral and spiritual sense. The pain was nearly enough for you to forget the monstrous aspect of your assaulter. The thing that was being forced inside of you was less of a penis and more of a living weapon of some kind. Something made to cause as much lasting pain and damage as possible, both to the body and the mind. 

The first thrust tore you wide open. Blood poured from the splitting wound, wetting your thighs and knees as it pooled underneath you. It was a poor lubricant, as the stinger-dick clung to the skin of your ass cheeks every time the guard pulled his hips back to force even more of his impossible girth inside of your tearing hole. Even as the pain of your body ripping open and your insides being stretched and stabbed couldn’t force a single sound from your set jaw. 

Push

Pull

Push

Pull

It’s a set rhythm as the monster adequately stretches you enough so that he can fuck you as he pleases. He grips your hips so hard that you’re certain that they would shatter under the pressure. Deep in your gut, you feel something being repeatedly stabbed, causing you even more pain and more blood loss that's now soaking most of your prone body. Every thrust, air is trapped inside of you and a noticeable sound is produced every time the guard plunges back inside of you. He pulls free from your asshole, smirking to himself as the hole remains gaping and utterly ruined anus. 

It’s only the beginning… 

With all his weight behind him, he crams himself back inside of you. Almost imperceptibly, you shift and wheeze, body ever so slightly clamping down around him and pulling away as he keeps advancing on you until he’s nearly prone on top of you and his balls are flush against the curve of your ass. 

You’re going to die…

You felt bitter acceptance as the guard continued to rape you. The pain was now all consuming. It hurt so much you almost couldn’t feel anything at all, only a blinding heat and a sting that made you think you’d be split in half from between your legs. Hot breath tickled your ear as the guard snarled and grunted as he laboured. You were a tight fit and one of the best fucks he’s had in ages. It didn’t take much longer for a watery, hot fluid to come squirting out of the stinger’s tip. Perhaps this is what a spider’s prey feels just before their end… A familiar burning sensation spread inside of you and now you truly knew what pain really was. 

Wet fart escaped from around the guard’s mutated cock as he pulled it from your shredded insides. Blood, semen like fluid and feces oozed from your gaping anus. Every breath you took, another rush of liquid would stream from between your legs. It had to be it for you, right? You can’t recover from this and you’ll surely die sooner than later… You wished for death to take you quickly. You are desecrated, humiliated, utterly ruined… 

Relief flooded over you when the guard stood up and left you. The sound of his footsteps on the blood soaked floor echoed, only drowned out by the sound of a metal cell door opening. The shock you experienced began to wane and the searing pain that coursed through your veins began to lessen with each passing second. You thought, for a brief moment, you could feel your fingers. Instead of feeling bitter, you felt hope.

Maybe you wouldn’t die here after all… 

You couldn’t feel your legs but that can come later. If you can crawl you can survive… Maybe. In the midst of your glee, you mistook the sound of footsteps to be moving away from you. It was only when a presence looming over you and a sudden weight over your legs did you realize that another guard had entered your cell. 

No. No, no it can’t continue, right…? A large, rough hand grabbed one of your bruised cheeks and you felt the fleeting hope that had only just budded inside of you immediately wither away and die as a familiarly shaped tool of torture rub against your split and torn asshole. 

For what little remained of your life, you would be used by any guard that could get his hands on you. They would fight over you, as you were one of the most resilient prisoners that they had ever raped in the entirety of their time in the Dungeon of Fear and Hunger. There was no escape for you and you would never see anything outside of the blood and cum and shit stained walls of your tiny cell. 

Ending H- A Guard’s Comfort

@prettycutebunny, @infinitewhore, @kennbb, @slutwithadegree, @dead-bxxxtch-walking, @space-arsonist, @pink-soft-shadow, @sinlessdesire, @hoemine

#fear and hunger #fear & hunger #fear & hunger x reader #fear & hunger ending h #fear & hunger guards #tw dead dove #tw non con #tw blood #tw monsterfucking #its extreme

[dalekofchaos]

My biggest problems with Filoni’s Star Wars

I'd say my biggest critiques of Filoni's Star Wars would be

Complete change in Anakin's character from AOTC to the character he is portrayed as in TCW. We NEVER see Anakin knighted, so he should not be given a Padawan. Nor do I think Anakin is capable nor do I think the Council would trust Anakin with a Padawan.  Honestly the change in Anakin's character felt like giving into RLM's complaints about Anakin and just turned Anakin into a mix of Luke and Han, but that’s not Anakin. 

Lightening the skin of the clones and Boba and not bringing back Temmura to voice the clones, The whole whitewashing of the Clones is downright disgusting.

Constantly retcons. Kanan’s backstory. Ahsoka’s novel has recently been retconned. This is getting ridiculously mean spirited, it’s like the man has no respect for the canon novel/graphic novel writers. 

Everything about Barriss. A Muslim coded character who was loved in the EU. And what does he do? From someone who was Anakin’s temporary is deaged to be Ahsoka’s, makes her willing to be okay for dying for the Jedi and having her bomb the Jedi Temple. I hope this was just him being tone deaf, but if intentional, oh boy yikes.

EVERYTHING ABOUT GRIEVOUS

EVERYTHING ABOUT MANDALORE AND THE STUPID RETCON OF THE FETTS BEING MANDALORIAN(YES I KNOW ALMEC IS AN ASS, BUT THIS WAS DIRECT FROM FILONI AND PABLO HIDALGO)

Minor nitpick but changing Obi-Wan's armor from the awesome design from the micro series to what he has from TCW. It’s like going from Gucci to Walmart.

Erasing Alpha 17 and Captain Fordo

The Bad Batch. It again enforces the whitewashing of the clones and could've easily been Delta Squad, since they are essentially the same fucking characters.

Bringing back Maul. Maul served a purpose. Sure George regretted killing him off too soon and I do think he should have been the Vader of the Prequels. But god, the way they hammered him in TCW, Rebels and Solo? Good god it's ridiculous.

The same damn story in EVERY Star Wars story. It's less noticeable in TCW and Rebels. It's good for The Mandalorian, but The Bad Batch just makes it clear he only knows how to tell one type of story. Grumpy man is forced to take care of small sunshine child.  What's next? Book of Boba Fett doing it with Boba and Dash?

Abundantly clear he did not care about Boba Fett and used Book Of Boba Fett as a prop for The Mandalorian. Boba Fett doesn't do Boba Fett type things. He's a crime lord that doesn't do any crimes. He's outwitted by everyone in the show and instead of reaching out to characters Boba knows like Bossk, IG-88 etc, we need Din. And instead of focusing on flashbacks with Jango that focuses on his Mandalorian heritage, again we get proto-Mando season 3.  It honestly would've been better to keep Grogu out of TBOBF cause now people are forced to watch it to see how Din reunites with Grogu instead of watching The Mandalorian season 3. If he didn't want to write for a show about Boba Fett, then he shouldn't have written a show about Boba Fett. 

Ahsoka living through all 3 trilogies. The Jedi are supposed to be all extinct by the time of the Empire, Obi-Wan and Yoda should be the only survivors. Ahsoka lives beyond Order 66, throughout the Galactic Civil War and Filoni plays favorites and literally uses time travel to bring her back. Then apparently she lasts beyond the Galactic Civil War(why did she not meet Obi-Wan, Yoda, Luke or Leia?) Like fuck it is convoluted that she's survived this long. Hell, I will also say that Ezra, Cal and Cere should be dead too. Thrawn's fleet should have crushed the Rebels on Lothal and Vader should have killed Cal and Cere in Fallen Order.  No one but Obi-Wan, Yoda and the Twins should be left alive from the Jedi. Luke is the Last Jedi for a reason. I came up with an emotional death for Ahsoka in Order 66,  Rex kills her and then Rex kills himself. But for sure if Ahsoka survived  Order 66, she should have died against Vader in Twilight Of The Apprentice. She should have died against Vader, it would solidify him as the monster that he is at this point in time: the one that can only be saved by his son who in turn would be saved by him. It took away all the tension and emotion by using World Between Worlds in bringing Ahsoka back. Filoni pulled a Moffat by having a dead character come back to life an episode/season later. Kind of insulting. Like imagine if Leia used WBW to prevent Alderaan’s destruction or imagine if Luke used it to stop Anakin’s fall. Yes it would be satisfying to prevent a tragedy, but for story purposes it takes away the tension and the monstrosity of the Empire. I think it would have been a good end if she was killed by Vader. In their fight she even says "I won't leave you, not this time!", but then time travels out of them and never tries to go to him again. I don't really know what they'll do with her, she isn't mentioned once in the sequels by Luke, so seems unlikely they met up. I don't think there is much they can do with her, not to mention its now dumb that she didn't turn up in the OT.  Better she get killed by Vader in a poignant death scene. With her lamenting she couldn't give Anakin a proper burial with Padme much less kill Vader. Then Ahsoka appeared in THe Mandalorian. Good moment, but you are telling your new audience they need to watch your animated shows in order to even know who this character even is. Also it’s kind of insulting Ahsoka lived this long. And honestly Ahsoka living past Order 66 and past the Galactic Empire is the epidemy of refusing to let go and let your oc die. I've said countless times how Ahsoka has surpassed her expiration date and I stand by my point. For Ahsoka to survive all the way up to TROS is both baffling and insulting and it implies that Ahsoka stood by and did not help Luke with Ben. It implies she stood by and did nothing while The First Order was reigning and only waited until the last minute for the Emperor to return. Like Filoni confirmed she wasn't a force ghost, so it's just baffling she lived this long and Filoni should've just let go. She outlived the Empire AND the Skywalkers since Filoni said Ahsoka isn’t dead(good god man let her go) It's clear at this point that Dave Filoni doesn't know when to let go of her as a character. I like her, but It's kind of insane to me that she's now a part of all 3 eras of Star Wars. George Lucas wanted Ahsoka to die at the end of The Clone Wars, but Filoni somehow convinced him that she should live. Ahsoka Tano is a lot like The Simpsons. Great at first, but now I just roll my eyes at her existence. Ahsoka has been overexposed and it shows. She's a great character, but she's just become as overexposed as Maul was.

I also would include these videos about Filoni to my critiques

#Star Wars #Anti Filoni #Anti Dave Filoni #Anakin Skywalker #Clone Troopers #Boba Fett #Barriss Offee #General Grievous #Obi Wan Kenobi #Darth Maul #Ahsoka Tano #Alpha 17 #Captain Fordo #Delta Squad

[bullet1ni]

IN Wonderland Ch. 1:

praying can’t save this

pairing: prince!jeongin x female executioner!reader (feat. changbin (and possibly some other idols in the future))

word count: 4k

🔒warnings: heavy violence, graphic scenes, blood, mental illness (if you look), mentions of sex, violent!reader, unstable!reader, wonderland au, just an unnerving vibe in general, mentions of being suicidal, reader eats a lot in one sitting, some science-y things i made up, wonderland au, sci-fi/fantasy au, (edit: i've also decided to classify this as hardcore angst)

author's note: justice for jeongin fics. also, this probably has some mistakes even after fifty billion proofreads and i just wanted to post this already

click here for the series spotify playlist

⚠️!Minors and sensitive readers proceed with caution!⚠️

Please don't copy or repost my work.

click here for the series masterlist

Preview:

As you pushed him away from you, the man gave out a cry of surprise and pain and clutched at his throat. When he pulled his hands away, they were stained dark red. At his throat, a sharp, clean, streak of scarlet where your knife had cut. 

“How dare you speak as if you know an inkling of who I am?”

“Please!” The man before you screamed, writhing uselessly against his restraints. You watched the tears stream down his face in cold detachment. “I’m innocent, I swear! I’ll do anything! No, please-” He choked on a sob as you turned away from him to face the crowded execution hall.

You and the man were standing - well, he was kneeling, you were standing - on a brightly lit flagstone floor. The execution block where the man was cuffed was dead in the center and all around the floor, rows and rows of benches extended up towards the vaulted ceiling, like an arena. These were filled with cheering townsfolk and commoners, screaming and excited for blood. Above the regular seats was the upper level reserved for the Spades, the queen’s gardeners who carefully and painstakingly grew and painted her beloved roses. At the very top were the boxes, where the Diamond courtiers sat on plush velvet couches and were served sweet drinks and dainty pastries from the royal kitchen. But the grandest and most-looked-at sight in the hall besides the execution floor, was the queen’s observation balcony. 

It jutted out of the wall, bringing it closer to the executions than any other seat in the room. Upon it sat the heart-shaped, blood red throne of garnet and gold where the Queen of Hearts sat watching, flanked by a group of Clubs dressed in bright red armor. Your eyes flicked up to the box, watching as the queen and her group of advisors leaned forward, watching the hysterical man with sadistic glee. 

Directing your gaze to the two Clubs who flanked the door leading onto the execution floor, you beckoned with two fingers and they started towards you. Then, glancing up at the queen’s box, you looked at the judge who stood at attention beside the throne and gave an almost imperceptible nod. He stepped forward and cleared his throat.

“Ahem.”

The babble and chatter of several thousand spectators quieted.

“Welcome, citizens of Wonderland. We are gathered here today for a most glorious and sacred occasion. A mission, a duty, of the highest purpose.”

His voice filled the room in a strange way, with an almost tangible presence. This was purposeful, of course; the acoustics of the execution hall were specifically designed to amplify all noise, to add to the atmosphere. The crowd, equal parts impressed and in awe, burst into rapturous applause.

The judge cleared his throat and the crowd quieted down again.

“Before you stands a criminal, guilty of such crimes worthy of death. Treasonous words against her majesty the queen, trespassing amongst her most private quarters...” 

You tuned him out as he droned on. Instead, you turned to the two Clubs who now stood at attention beside you. One of them held a large cushion covered with a silk cloth. You fingered the corner of the silk for a moment as the judge concluded the list of charges.

"And now, I present to you - the Executioner!"

A spotlight fell upon you and you allowed the crowd to take in your figure, clad in red armor and helmet.

You grasped the cloth and tugged it firmly away from the cushion, revealing the axe in a most dramatic fashion. The sudden gleam of silver caused several people in the front rows to clap their hands over their eyes.

The blade of the axe had been polished to perfection so that you could see your warped reflection in the steel. The light reflected off of it was blinding.

At the sight of the weapon, the promise of blood, the crowd burst into the customary cheers and excited applause. Handing the cover to the other guard, you gripped the handle of the axe and lifted it off the cushion. The familiar weight of it settled comfortably in your grip and you felt a surge of powerful satisfaction in your chest.

When you stepped away from the guards and turned to acknowledge the crowd, you were met with a thunderous roar of approval.

“Off with his head! Off with his head!” They crowed. Your face remained passive and you turned away from them, stalking towards the execution block with leisurely, unhurried steps. It was all in the build-up; the suspense was what made the crowd go apeshit.

You stopped beside the silently shaking man and looked down at him with a face void of emotion. 

“Off with his head!”

The crowd roared, louder than ever. You cocked an eyebrow and tilted your head up towards the queen’s balcony. The cheering swelled as she stood up from the throne and walked to the railing. She looked around fondly and gave a dainty little wave.

“Off with his head!”

The noise was deafening, the crowd egging her on. The queen’s painted face spread into a manic grin and she threw her arms open and closed her eyes as if basking in the moment. Then, her eyes flew open and she pointed down at you. You met her frenzied gaze. 

“You hear them!” She bellowed thunderously. “OFF WITH HIS HEAD!” 

And you lifted your arms above your head and swung down on the man in misery and relieved him from it.

There was a thud and a squelch and a crimson spray. The man’s head made an ugly sound against the ground, blood splattering across the flagstones, and the crowd screamed their approval. Without looking behind you, you turned your back on the decapitated body and the head and walked off the floor, silently handing your axe to one of the Clubs. The other one opened the door for you and it swung shut behind you.

The noise was muffled immediately, the effect not unlike that of plunging your head underwater. Blood rushing in your ears, you reveled in the relative quiet and the sound of your footsteps echoing off the walls of the tunnel as you made your way out. The tunnel sloped gently and you approached a second set of doors, also flanked by two Clubs. They held the door open for you and you passed by without acknowledging them.

You emerged in the dungeon. It was a dark, dank, moldy-smelling basement. Prisoners squatted or lay in their little cells where they awaited their:

1. trials (maybe)

2. deaths (definitely) The hateful gazes of the prisoners seared into the side of your head as you made your way between the cages towards the exit, refusing to meet any of their eyes.

“Look who it is,” a bald, vicious-looking man leered at you from between his bars. You continued past, ignoring him. “The executioner. 'Tis the fate that awaits us all,” he raised his voice for the other prisoners to hear. “Take a good look. Death at the hands of this child.” The other prisoners growled. “The queen’s champion toy. The prince’s whore.” The other prisoners chuckled. You slowed.

“And that’s all you’ll ever be,” he called after you, sensing weakness. “The queen’s little puppet, and the moment the prince tires of you, you’ll be kicked to the brothels where you belong.” Prisoners roared with laughter.

"Actually," his voice turned mock-thoughtful. "No, not really." His voice lowered and darkened simultaneously. "Not really," he hissed, "because you'd be dead the second that you stepped out of these walls. Killed by the families of all the people that you've killed. It will be a fitting death for you."

You knew inside that you should continue on. You had heard worse accusations from within the castle itself, but coming from a lowly criminal, whom you had never met in your life, assigning you labels and claiming to know you? You allowed yourself this moment of weakness, this crack in your facade. You allowed yourself a little shred of release. Lunging for the man through the bars, you gripped him by his collar and pulled him against them hard enough to leave a bruise on his cheeks. 

“What did you say?” You whispered, dangerously low. You flicked your wrist and a knife fell out of your sleeve and into your hand. The blade ghosted across his neck and landed against his jugular vein.

“That's the way you deserve to die. In shame and without honor, just like all the good men and women you've murdered.” he whispered triumphantly. You shook him violently and he swore as his head was bashed against the bars again. 

“I kill criminals, who committed crimes knowingly. I ought to kill you where you stand.” You watched in satisfaction as the man panted and wriggled at your words.

“You have no idea of the things that I have done to stand here.” Cold fury rose within you, the edges of your vision tinged black. You leaned in close to his ear. “Is that what you think I am? Is that why you think I am here? Because of the prince? I have done things you can only imagine and endured what you cannot even begin to fathom. If you knew even half of the truth…” 

As you pushed him away from you, the man gave out a cry of surprise and pain and clutched at his throat. When he pulled his hands away, they were stained dark red. At his throat, a sharp, clean, streak of scarlet where your knife had cut. 

“How dare you speak as if you know an inkling of who I am?”

In the safety and solace of your quarters, you tore off your red ceremonial armor and chainmail, and the cape embroidered with the Heart coat of arms. They made loud clanking sounds when you dumped them on the floor of your parlor and two maids silently scurried to pick them up. Slumping into one of the plush, heart-shaped chairs, you shut your eyes.

“Camille?” You called out. You heard the quick, pattering footsteps of your lady-in-waiting. 

“My lady!” Came the breathless reply. “Forgive our - forgive my unpreparedness." She stood before you, cowering. "I'll have your training attire prepared quickly.” You opened your eyes. 

“It’s alright. I’m earlier than expected.” You always tried to be as friendly as you possibly could to Camille and the rest of the maids, but there must have been venom in your voice, because she looked at you uncertainly. You cocked an eyebrow and she hurried away into the dressing room. Letting out a long breath, a not-quite-sigh, you pulled off the leather boots on your feet. 

You were braiding your hair when Camille returned. Fingers deftly finishing off your second braid, you stood and took the clothing from her. She gave a slight bow and left. Stripping yourself to your underclothes, you pulled on your training clothing.

A bodysuit in the richest shade of Heart red. It stuck to your skin as if it was part of you, giving you full range of motion. You had been told that the special material regulated body temperature and absorbed sweat.  Laceless leather boots, bleached and dyed to a matching red. You looked dangerous, every part the queen’s champion. 

Turning to leave, you passed the mirror without looking into it. No point. Your own appearance was ingrained into your mind, from the portraits of you in the hallways, from seeing your reflection in the blades of your knives.

“I’m heading to train,” you called out to Camille. Before a response could reach your ears, you were out the door. 

You hated the arena. It was an oasis, it was a prison, it was a nightmare. It smelled of floors scrubbed clean of blood a hundred times over; to no avail, because blood and despair and pain were in the very essence of the place. It was in the air, in the walls, in the racks upon racks of weapons. It was the place where you slowly ruined yourself over the course of years, done things so terrible until you weren’t sure what you were. Certainly not human; certainly not any being with a soul. And then you returned to this place again to drown yourself in sweat and exhaustion - to forget what you were and the blood on your hands.

“Lady y/n.” You snapped your head towards the voice and saw the captain of the Clubs, General Seo Changbin. He had taken over his predecessor’s role as your trainer ever since he was appointed three years ago. Three years and you had never once spoken to him. Only followed his orders, to run faster, jump higher, punch harder. He doubled down on you with no sympathy, but that was alright with you. The more tired you were, the more painful it was, the better. 

Changbin clapped his hands and in marched twelve armored Clubs, each carrying a sword and shield. You turned your head to look at them. They were closely followed by an army of medics carrying stretchers. You counted thirteen in total. You looked back at him.

“Today you will spar these Clubs.” He gestured towards them with his head. “They are twelve of my best. The fight ends when one side is unable to continue. Both sides have permission to draw blood. Arm yourself with weapons of choice.”

You looked carefully at the twelve Clubs for a moment. Not Eights. The number of white Clubs on their breastplates marked them as Tens. You turned and headed into the weapon vault. 

It was a room adjacent to the arena, filled with shelves upon shelves of weapons of all sorts. From standards: knives, spears, bombs, guns, to some that gave you more creative freedom: a rope, tape, a large horseshoe magnet, boxes of matches. 

Knives would work best for this one. The weak spots in the armor were sparse and few and miniscule, because they had been designed by the prince, the greatest mind in all of Wonderland.

You slid two knives into hidden pockets on either side of your hips and several more into the concealed belt sewn into your suit. You picked out the last pair to hold in your hands. After ensuring that all the knives were secure and invisible, you reentered the arena. 

Changbin looked you over once, face as unreadable as ever and gestured you towards the center of the floor where the twelve Clubs were lined up, four rows of three. You approached them and stood at the ready.

“The lady will initiate the fight. Start when you are ready.” Changbin called from the side.

You felt the familiar rush of blood in your ears, drowning out all other feeling. Your muscles relaxed perceptibly and you felt a sudden urge to laugh, like you were high. But you didn’t. You just adjusted your grip on your knives and mentally went over your strategy. Pierce through the weak spots (armpits, backs of the knees, chins), limit their range of motion, then take them out.

One by one.

Easy enough.

You looked at the Clubs. They had not moved. So you started them off, to get a sense of their strategy. You took a step towards them. The effect was instantaneous. They fanned out, quickly surrounding you on all sides, shields up, spears pointing at you.

You waited. 

Finally, you heard a soft, telltale clink from behind you. With lightning reflexes, you whipped around just as a Spade broke rank and lunged towards you.

Thirty minutes later, everything was going well. The medics had carried away nine of the twelve Clubs. There was a long gash on your cheek where a spear had raked you and you were pretty sure some of your ribs had cracked. You had all but two knives left. You set your sights upon a Spade who was limping from a knife in the back of his knee.

You dodged a thrust from his spear and jumped into the air, arms above your head to bring a knife down on him. He lifted his shield above his head and your knife sank into it with a hollow thud. Landing quickly, in the second he let down his guard, you grabbed his spear and shoved the butt as hard as you could into his gut. He lurched backwards with a groan. You pounced, slipping your last knife from the belt you shoved it up into his chin, twisted, and pulled it out. 

He crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath as blood gurgled and dripped from underneath his helmet. 

You whirled around, only to feel a white-hot, searing pain tear through your body from your left side. You turned your head to the side and saw another spade, one that you had stabbed in the arm, holding onto the spear which was now impaling you.

A wave of disappointment washed over you. Stupid, rookie mistake. Always keep track of every hostile. As you mentally berated yourself, the dark, black, agony crashed into you again like a tidal wave. You wobbled and fell to your knees. Your face contorted in pain; you hadn't felt such pain, such blinding, such horrible pain in years. You hadn't done this poorly in years.

The Spade had discarded his shield, which would have been a fatal mistake had you not been preoccupied with the other one. He shoved the spear deeper into your side and you gritted your teeth. The feeling of your body hitting the ground registered vaguely in the back of your mind, the mind-boggling agony being at the forefront of your consciousness. 

You lay there on your back, fighting the black that crept along the sides of your vision. Changbin’s blurry face materialized above you, as icy as ever.

“Abysmal, my lady.” You stared blankly at him. His face betrayed no emotion. Your mind was becoming hazier and so you waited patiently as the pain settled in, until the darkness finally swallowed you.

The first thing you noticed was the tingling. A gentle buzzing sensation throughout your entire body. Then, the exhaustion. It hit you like a truck, and you felt your consciousness almost slip away from you.

With a great effort, your eyes fluttered open.

You were lying in a revival chamber, an invention of the prince’s. It was a glass coffin of sorts, filled with a clear liquid, thicker than water, like syrup. You floated in it, naked, submerged save for your face. The liquid was another invention of the prince’s, an artificial stimulator for your cells, speeding up their life cycles by hundredfolds, that entered the body through the skin. The buzzing sensation was a side effect. 

A medic’s face appeared through the glass, peering down at you, then disappeared again. A moment later, the top of the chamber was opened. You sat up stiffly, and glanced down at your side. The spot where the spear had punctured you was smooth, as pristine as it had been before, if a little sore. 

The medic helped you out of the chamber into a robe, and sat you down on the examination table. She picked up a syringe from a tray.

"My lady, the recovery formula." She held up the syringe.

You held your arm out to her and she jabbed the needle into your arm with expert, robotic motions. You felt some energy returning to your body.

“My lady, we'll ask that you stay in the revival ward for a few more minutes, until the residual stimulator has been absorbed into your skin.” You nodded. “The prince will be arriving shortly to do a short, follow-up examination of your condition. He will release you if all is well. We suggest that you ingest as much food as you can afterwards to help your body recover.” You did not reply.

Of course. Every visit to the revival ward always came with a visit from the prince. It was not procedure for him to personally attend to revivals. Only yours, for some reason that you could not understand. The medic left you to your thoughts.

You had known the prince for your entire life. He was the only other child that had grown up in the castle, the only other person who had even an inkling of understanding what your life was like. Because while you had been forced into becoming the queen’s executioner/personal bodyguard/assassin, the prince’s skill set was a bit different from yours. 

He was a genius. It was discovered when he had turned seven, and shortly thereafter, he proceeded to propel science in Wonderland at an alarmingly quick rate. To say the queen had been delighted was an understatement. He quickly became the middleman between her and her twisted fantasies, unleashing a new level of sadism within her. 

You heard the sound of the door being pushed in, footsteps moving towards you. You looked forward, absolutely still, ignoring him.

At her command, he had created a mutant for her. A group of genetically enhanced people. Her personal guard, the Eights of Clubs. They were all tall, handsome, obedient, with superhuman strength. They were also extremely well-endowed, even unnaturally so, to satisfy the queen’s sexual urges. On many nights, her loud sounds of pleasure filtered through the halls of the castle.

The sound of disposable gloves slapping against skin filled the silent ward.

After his success with the Eights, as they were called, she ordered him to create more. He was given access to all the prisoners, whom he experimented on. He combined them with animal and insect DNA, reversed their aging processes, turned them into monsters.Then when you were twelve, after killing a mutant that had escaped from his lab, the queen had the clever idea of making you fight them for her entertainment. And about then was when your life started becoming what it was today.

The prince moved into your line of sight. He approached you, staring directly into your eyes. You stared back. His tortured yet beautiful face, sharp nose, heart-shaped mouth, his eyes. Desperate eyes, unhinged eyes, I’m-doing-my-best-not-to-cry eyes. He sure did take the pain differently than you did.       

You killed mutant after mutant, not quite animals, not quite people, more like monsters. You noticed nauseously that they seemed to become especially human right before they died. The queen requested methods of death; it became her favorite pastime, coming up with the goriest, most painful methods of death for the mutants. You put on these secret shows for her, but the screams of pain- sometimes yours, sometimes the mutant's- were hard to mask. Rumors formulated and circulated throughout the castle, rumors of your and the prince's involvement in some sort of agreement with the queen. Like this, you and the prince, barely thirteen, were thrust into the cycle.

You and the prince, barely thirteen, were eaten alive by self-disgust and abject horror.

Whereas your coping mechanism turned you into a soulless shell of a person, he didn’t. He simply retreated into his own brain, into his lair of a lab, drowning in his work a little more everyday. Personally, you were of the opinion that he would go mad like his mother. You wondered how he would use you when he did. But for now, he was still able to display emotion in moderation, he was still kind to the best of his ability, he was still alive. 

“Y/N.” It was a curious tone of voice. Soft and flat -  emotionless but gentle.

“Your highness.” You saw your reflection in his eyes. 

“You broke two ribs and practically destroyed your spleen and liver. You suffered a serious concussion. You were in an emergency chamber for several hours, there was so much internal bleeding." His eyes searched yours. "This is getting dangerous.”

“I have full confidence in your abilities and technology, your highness,” you monotoned. “Your genius is unrivaled in this realm and-”

“Y/N, stop.” He cut you off. “Don’t, don’t you start that garbage with me. We're beyond that, you and I.” He puts his thumb and pointer finger several millimeters away from each other.  “You were this close to dying. It wasn't just scrapes like normal!” These emotional displays of his always irritated you to no end.

“Your highness, I’m deeply sorry to have troubled you. I assure you, this will never happen again. It was an unusual mistake on my part, I promise-” You were interrupted again. 

“Y/N,” his voice lowered back to its normal volume. “Y/N, don’t lie. I’m not an idiot. You’re not an idiot. I’ve had you in here far too many times for this to work.” You saw a veil lift momentarily over his eyes. He looked at you, pleading. “I’m asking you to please stop, stop training like this. You’re cutting it too close, I can’t go on like this. You can’t go on like this.”

Something in you snapped quietly. You gave him a look of disgust. 

“Who are you to tell me what the fuck I can or can’t do, Jeongin?” You hissed. Quietly, biting, with eyes narrowed. “You said so yourself, you’ve had me in here so many times before, I’ve never had to put up with your pathetic complaints before. What’s the difference?” His eyes darkened with annoyance. 

“The difference, Y/N, was that you nearly died this time! I didn’t tell anyone, I’m the genius, I’m supposed to know what I’m doing, but this time, I was working in the dark! Blindly! I was praying for you to make it through alive!” His voice rose again.

“Oh, praying were we? Why are you so stressed out about this?” You sneered at him. “What’s it to you whether I make it through alive or not? Maybe I want to die, hmm?” The veil that had lifted from his eyes momentarily seemed to settle down again. 

“It matters because you are a symbol of power to our people, and an important member of the court to my mother. Your death would be catastrophic, politically and within the castle.” He said. He looked at you stubbornly. 

“Don’t you lie to me.” The previous angry fire in your voice had gone out. Now you were only tired. “You only want me alive so you don’t have to be the only one who suffers the way that you do.”

There was no reply from the prince at that. He only backed away a few feet and turned away from you.

“Fine. I will tell General Changbin that all training activities and scheduling must run through me for approval first.” You stared at the back of his head, a multitude of emotion rising to your chest. First anger, then panic, then realization. You knew that allowing this to happen was a bad idea. A very bad idea. But you were tired. So tired. Your body had recently come out of overdrive from recovering from your injuries and you had very little energy. You felt the last shreds of will leave you. 

“Whatever. Suit yourself, Jeongin.”

He turned with his face stony. 

“Now the exam, Y/N.” 

“Fine.”

return to series masterlist//next chapter

okey dokey this was my first writing post, thank you to those who gave it a chance and made it to the end 🤗

feedback+REBLOGS+suggestions+CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM(!) would be very much appreciated :)

btw if someone wants to beta read these for me, send me an ask! or if you have any questions, comments, or anything else!

xoxo

Seren

#jeongin x reader #jeongin x you #skz fanfic #skz x you #skz x reader #skz x y/n #jeongin fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids au #jeongin au #kpop fanfic #kpop fic #skz fic #stray kids fic #kpop ff #kpop au #stray kids i.n. #skz au #jeongin x y/n #skz jeongin #skz ff #skz fics

[blankd]

People are very familiar with how konami utterly fucked the Silent Hill IP and in that vein my personal franchise that "got SH'd" would be Breath of Fire.

Certain fans assigned the 5th game (Dragon Quarter) as being what killed it, but I'll defend that game for being a fairly unique RPG (and good!!) in its own right. I feel like if it came out now, people would appreciate it more.

It's relatively short (if you're fast you can legitimately beat it in <8 hours), brutal (flavor/setting + finite resources, finite enemies) and there's a simplicity to it that people seem to mistake as a problem rather than a choice.

read more of me rambling on about how one mechanic can uniquely define a game

One of the loudest fan criticisms of DQ is that it didn't have the dragon gene mixing/summons people loved and that there was !!only one dragon form!! But I'd say it was a worthy sacrifice for doing more with the dragon mechanics.

Your dragon/"I win" button was strapped to Ryu's/the MC's lifespan- sure you'd get devastating dragon powers, but it would also eventually kill him and could deadlock* your game if you abused it. Even walking around would (slowly) tick up the death counter which generates a good sense of urgency *without* condescending railroading.

As a result of this, DQ features something most of the other BoF games generally lacked, meaningfully dangerous encounters.

Other entries would be more typical random encounters that could be snuffed out or eventually grinded out of being a threat.

Meanwhile DQ has finite enemies (and EXP). Battles would take place on a 1:1 map, terrain, enemies, hazards, and items were retained from the normal map and vice-versa.

The game also cranked up the stakes by having limited hard saves (it required a consumable item), but still allowed you to have a soft save anywhere (the latter would be deleted upon reloading the game). Retaining your progress was always on the line and properly framed the dragon option as a temptation with consequences.

*note: the game wasn't so unfair as to leave you without any recourse, you could get a Restart+ where you carried over some items and EXP from a failed run to start the game over again, but leave it to gamers to puzzle out a way to exploit this courtesy to grind/farm, kudos on figuring it out but newspaper whap for going against the spirit of the game

This sort of decision working mechanically, playerwise, AND as a story point was a unique experience. Most games get bogged down in complexities and convulsion but DQ kept to a simple and sweet execution of "this power comes with a terrible price" and is a stronger experience for you.

As a game designer, the cohesion of story and mechanics is a solid inspiration.

Anyway did you know that there was a BoF 6? It was a mobile game and it shut down in about a year. Yes it is was soulless as it sounds. Yes the art is as bad and generic as it sounds.

---

Bonus Round! BoF Game Rankings + Misc.:

BoF:DQ (in case it was not obvious) is my favorite of the series, it's an RPG I can easily revisit and enjoy, truly a lean game. My ideal remake would tidy up the graphics to be nicer and to tweak some fiddlier bits, but the best I can hope for is a lazy port just because I don't think there are many copies (and more people should play it!). The NA box art is a crime though, horrible, 1000 years dungeon.

BoF 4, I like the overall plot and what it tried to do, there's some dodgy TL but I like the weird dragons and the art. Unfortunately it suffers from being in that PS1-PS2 transitory era and from RPG trappings of the time.

BoF 2 (GBA) has a a soft nostalgia spot in my heart. The TL work was incredibly jank, but is what defined JRPGs for me with its funny little freak party and the whiplash of weird goofy shit and Horror that Just Works.

BoF 3 and 1: I never really got around to properly playing either of these and have no real motivation to fix that.

I actually own the BoF artbook (in Japanese) and if you happen to enjoy them, I rec the the purchase even if you know nothing about the series. It actually contains *art from all 5 games* and having a consolidated timeline for how the art evolved over time is fascinating.

#blankd's blabbies #breath of fire

[hypnotizcdsx]

Griffin was in the middle of a family dinner when he got the call to get to work. Since his cover was that he was a graphic designer, no one suspected what he truly did for a living. Yes, he did dabble in graphic designing, however, it wasn’t how he came in to his riches. The truth of the matter was, he was an assassin. He’d be working for the Gambino crime group for the past fifteen years. As a fresh graduate, he had been introduced to a life of crime. His best friend was the son and heir of the Gambino empire, and while he didn’t set out to become an assassin, an accidental killing brought him down this path. Now, he couldn’t picture doing anything else. 

Dressed in his usual all black attire, he snuck into his target’s home. This one was a known criminal who was threatening to bring down the Gambino family should he be given the chance to testify in court. Albert Sanderson was also known to be a creep. The amount of sexual assault charges that were filed against him must be as high as a mountain by now. And Griffin suspected the other had struck a deal with the DA's office. Blab about all the organized crime families, and his charges would be dropped. Too bad for him, he wouldn’t be given a chance. As soon as he got inside, he felt like something was amiss and when he snuck into the bathroom; he saw a familiar figure standing before him dressed in the same all black attire. “Liana Hilston.” was the only thing that escaped him.

@snakebittvn

#griffin && liana 01

[kishibeshoe]

Requesting 12, 13, & 36!!!! 🤓

Hi Mia my dearest!!! 🥺🤍 I'm so sorry I'm so late to this my life is exhausting atm because of uni but tysm for always asking!!!

12. Phobia

I have a huge phobia of bugs but I am fine with spiders tho. My biggest bug fear is ladybugs and idk how that came to be but I am terrified of those ungodly creatures. They disturb me.

13. Favorite youtuber

I have a lot of great youtubers I love! Mostly really inspiring and calming lifestyle vloggers. I'll name a few here ✨️

- inemuifj (They are a graphic design student and I just love the way they go abt life. It reminds me of when I was still in art school and they inspire me when it comes to art and interests. They got me into sonny angels)

- Alex Bondoc (She is also a lifestyle vlogger and does these uni vlogs. She is so productive and watching her really motivates me to try my best with my life too. Also love the aesthetic and the mindset she has!)

- Dadacafe (She's a Korean vlogger and she makes the most aesthetically pleasing vlogs. I followed her workout routines and I love seeing her cook and live her peaceful life! Very calming and inspiring!! Thats the kind of life I wish to live)

I also watch a lot of true crime and disaster youtubers and I'm very picky with them, if anyone wants recommendations for channels feel free to ask!! I mainly watch vlogs and true crime and anime stuff on YouTube 🤍

36. Childhood confession

Oooooh I suddenly remembered a good confession. I had a lot of temper tantrums as a child (still do, I can't manage emotions fot shit) and I used to play with littlest pet shops a lot. So I had this really cute pet shops keychain that had doggies in a little room that could move if u spinned a little thingie on the keychain. And one day I remember I had a horrible tantrum and I threw the keychain against the wall (I was like 8) and when I saw that it broke I cried even more. I felt so guilty about breaking that innocent keychain. And I still do to this day. I hate breaking things. Things haven't done anything wrong and don't deserve to be broken.

IT WAS THIS EXACT ONE AND THE TOP CLEAR PLASTIC SHATTERED 😭 (the doggy part still worked so it wasn't completely broken)

Also omg the nostalgia I'm getting from looking for this pic. I also found this lipgloss keychain I used to have. Man these toys were great.

Tysm for asking Mia and I hope u have a great day!!! I hope work and life is treating u well, like they should!! 💕💕💕

#ask game #mutuals

[inlocusmads]

The Adventure of the Counterfeit Coins

In order to prove a museum isn't in fact, a museum at all, Nora and Trystan must go on a little "date" to scavenge for counterfeit artefacts. As usual, disasters ensue.

Featuring: Nora Rose, Trystan Thorne from Crimes of Passion

Word Count: 1.8k | No Warnings/Teen | References to Crimes, Book 1. Very mild spoilers ahead.

A/N: More case fics are on their way! This is the first of many, many such short stories. Written for @choicesficwriterscreations's "Naughty or Nice" event. I went with "museum dates" as the prompt.

🎵 Listen to Crates of Books as seen/heard on Sherlock.

“Museums. Museums. Museums. Museums. Museums.” Nora jabbered. 

She continued. “It doesn’t sound like a proper word anymore. There’s the -- oh, look. At. That. Mediaeval vases! Traditional, looks stolen and -- that one is a definite fake. You’d assume museums actually put up genuine artefacts, but you’d be wrong. There’s a whole fraction of them there, behind those veiled glass cases and you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between papier-mache and actual mud, unless--”

She got a pocket torchlight from her back-up purse and shone it against the vase. “Rigid, a bit -- erm-- what's the word, ah porous! Porous! In some places, the material’s quite-- different compared to ordinary clay, there’s a lot of choppy paint work, as if they couldn’t be bothered to make it believable. Most definitely a fake.”

The Calloway Museum, an institution funded by the Hallow Group, were a bunch of liars. Sure, they had an exquisite art gallery, but most of what they mentioned in their Start Here! Tour pamphlets were all wrong. The vase, ambiguously named Chombo hicho and its origins dating to East Africa, didn’t actually exist.

Firstly, vases didn’t exist in 9000 BC, because it wasn’t until 6000 BC, vases travelled from China to Africa and had their use popularly widespread. Either the editors of the “Start Here!” pamphlets assumed that “9000 BC” was somehow older than “6000 BC”, or that it was really just a big old scam, milking money from viewers, casual-passersby and philanthropists at the same time. 

“Detective--”

“And the coins! God, I’d love to get one and test it under a microscope. Look at them! Look!"

“Detective--”

“Appears that the edge milling isn’t even properly raised. There’s also the stamping issue and the detailing. It feels like a shabby piece of work; as if they manufactured them in a machine after casting a coin in a silicone mould. It is, arguably, cheaper to work that way. Perhaps they could’ve digitally made them. You’ve got 3D printers. All it takes is a skilled graphics designer to carefully study the coin from images, draw it up exactly as it looks like, with some alterations here and there and--”

“Detective!”

“Oh, yes. It appears that I’m -- doing that thing again. Sincere apologies.”

“Yes. It is supposed to be a casual outing.” Trystan shook his head, quite frankly a little exhausted. “An outing is defined as when two or more people decide to go to an interesting place, without bringing in their work. You know-- like a date.”

It was odd seeing Trystan Thorne be a voice of reason, but it was warranted. It was usually Nora being the "No! Don't lick the gravestone!" person and granted, it was a miracle the universe hadn't promptly collapsed under the Role-Reversal Effect, as many romantic enthusiasts had put it.

Nora had been going on and on about counterfeit coins ever since the Matthew Bauman case, which involved a truck load of fake Euros and what appeared to be several tiny packets of a white powdery substance, chemically known as methamphetamine (also known as “N,α-dimethylbenzeneethanamine” or “the happy fast thing”) hidden cleverly inside two astutely engineered sides of a coin. Nora hadn’t stopped talking about the absolute genius and it had already been three days. 

It was also equally odd seeing the two dazed and confused “friends” walk about in a museum where, a few months ago, a wonderfully talented artist was brutally silenced by a man with a Morrigan Mask, who’d severed her heart. The place held trauma and was not at all optimal for “casual outings”. However these two had a very good reason to be there.

Due to Sonja Dormer’s murder case, the Calloway Museum was under a lawsuit regarding monetary compensation by Sonja’s parents. It went like this: Since Sonja was murdered in the museum’s premises and especially given that she’s a high-profile (was) artist and was given no security whatsoever, the Hallow Group were initially charged with paying a hefty damages fee to all the immediately affected parties; namely Sonja’s family for causing emotional distress under Tort Law.

The problem was, everything went fine. Too fine.

Considering Sonja’s family directed their lawsuit towards the management for organising and hosting a party, involving Sonja and no proper security regulations; referring to the Hallow Group as a “business” in several legal documents, with a “business management” that was callous in the smooth operation of their festivities. And this was a golden opportunity to take advantage of.

The defendant quickly made the claim that the Hallow Group was not a business institution, because it was a "not-for-profit organisation" that managed other non-for-profit organisations, the Calloway Museum being one of them. They held the proof of the Gala being a massive fundraiser to support local artists. Thus, the debate on “what qualifies as a business?” thus began and the trial hadn’t concluded since then.

“They closed down the Concession Stand.” Trystan remarked. 

Sonja’s parents approached the Ginovesi Agency a couple of days ago, after all that endless emotional turmoil they’d undergone and they wanted immediate proof that the Calloway Museum was indeed a for-profit business enterprise. Hence, these two showed up practically every other day; making a note of everything.

If, suppose, the Concession Stand handed out receipts and bills, it would be easier to prove that the Calloway Museum was indeed, making some profit from all the snack bars and the peanut brittle. And that was the intended plan. Unfortunately, it went down like a lead balloon after the Stand shut down. (Sonja’s parents didn’t have very good attorneys, anyway.)

“How do you prove something’s a business?” Nora asked the question.

“Well, you look into their records. And unfortunately in terms of records, we don’t have any records.” Trystan shook his head. “Just because an institution hires people, employs them, gives them a salary and so on and so forth, it doesn’t mean it is a proper, legally-backed-up business. And even if we do look into their records, find some -- bills, it won’t be enough. They have really good attorneys and enough personnel to fudge, swindle, lie, cheat and steal.”

Nora tilted her head, eyebrows raised, the wheels cramming and shrieking inside her mind.

“What? I brushed up on some legal reading. Museums don’t qualify as business enterprises, anyway. They’re often registered under non-profit organisations.”

“Perhaps--” The wheels in Nora’s head turned. “Perhaps we need to prove that the Calloway Museum isn’t a museum at all. Think about it. The vase we just saw was clearly a fake. A replica, even. But it went unmentioned. Museums would have that sort of thing. This is a replica of the blah-blah-blah thing. Perhaps we can prove that this museum isn’t a museum, because it doesn’t specify the true nature of the artefacts it displays. In direct violation of some -- code or whatever. The ICOM code, yes! That!”

“Great! How do we prove that? Maybe the vase is real.”

“Let’s take a look at the coins for a change.”

“This is supposed to be a date, Detective.” Trystan huffed, exasperatedly.

“And you’re giving up on your friend, Sonja? Not a good look.”

“I’m not! I’m just-- it is best if we stay out of trouble for a while.”

“What? One stabbing incident and you’re now a big old -- softie? You have to be joking.”

“Detective, this is--”

“Let’s see--” Nora bent down to see the glass case filled with ancient Chinese coins. Being a part-Chinese herself and having been expertly schooled by her mother on numismatics at a very young age as a substitute for bedtime stories, Nora could easily identify nearly three fakes. She couldn’t take a picture, but she wrote the details down, including what the Calloway Museum claimed to be the “true origin” of the coins. 

The coins in question were Ban Liangs, the first unified currency, minted under the emperor, Qin Shi Huang. They were curious little things with square holes in the middle. (As square-ish a circle could be). The date on the placard put the date of issue of the coins somewhere during the year, 221 BC, but the work was too perfect. (The "221B"C being just a lovely little coincidence)

Now, it was quite impossible to look at a coin and determine its legitimacy. Any ordinary human would break under the pressure. Like Trystan, for instance, who was now visibly sweating, turning around with his hands glued to his pockets, as if he was ready to throw a punch at any armed guard. Nora didn’t catch onto the danger just yet, because she was incredibly dense that way. Ridiculously smart, an insufferable genius, a calculative mastermind but also a proud resident of the City of Obliviousness.

Common characteristics among the residents included, but not limited to, obliviousness towards flirting, a blatant disregard for danger and otherwise perilous situations and possibly, in possession of the stupidest mind one could possibly have.

Detective Nora Rose had really good eyes. She knew colour saturations, studied ancient lettering for fun and knew, for certain, that such a neat job was impossible back in the olden days. In the olden days, freestyle lettering was a lot more common and this one looked straight out of some Nerdy McNerdy’s 3D printer. Upon close examination Nora concluded, in the span of six minutes, that the dimensions were off, the metal quality was frankly terrible and she doubted it was actually bronze. Even further examinations later, she observed that there were no grooves.

“Why do you have a metal detector in your purse?” Trystan deviated from his worries to enquire a stupid question.

“Pocket metal detector. Every woman and man has one. Ever since Brooklyn experienced this -- weird surge in -- these robot dates, dubbed one’s Perfect Match, there’s been quite a bit of panic in the dating field. Nobody knows if it is some rumour that the kids cooked up or if it actually holds true.”

“Robot Humans. I’ve seen this before. And I don’t feel so good.”

“Yeah-- just hold on a bit. This can penetrate through glass! I spent a lot on getting this, to the point where I haven’t gotten new clothes in the past-- six years. Shining.. Shining.. Aha! Not bronze! Gotcha.”

“Detective--”

“Now, I’ll just have to report my findings to the..”

“DETECTIVE! I believe we have a situation here!”

The two of them turned around to face a fleet of armed guards with guns pointing directly at them.

“If it is worth mentioning now, perhaps--” Trystan began, slowly raising his hand. “The Calloway Museum and its subsidiaries receive a portion of their funding from several Cultural Ambassadors from this very tiny European country. Very tiny, actually. Not the biggest. Just up in the Baltic -- mountains. I might know them.. You know, from other places.”

Nora let out an audible sigh. “And you didn’t think to mention it earlier?”

“Of course not! I just happen to love getting killed in various dumb ways, actually!” Trystan said. 

“Nice to meet you, Prince Thorne. Now, please get down while I attempt my very best to kill you with this wonderful AK-12. Thank you very much for cooperating!” Their leader stepped forth with a massive rifle of his own.

“I have a plan. But we might not make it out alive. It’s a very slim chance, actually. Around 30-70, with the seventy being our odds of not making it out alive.”

“That isn’t a plan!”

“It is a very good plan! Just -- trust me on this, Detective.” Trystan looked determined. 

A/N: And that's it! I'm ending it there! Now nobody would know what Trystan's superb plan really was all about. Hahaha (evil laugh)

Now I'm not a legal expert. I asked a bunch of different people about "suing a business party on accounts of distress" and many people had different answers. So I'm just going to leave it at that and not address it further, because I spent so many hours going through it, I'm physically sick and distressed myself. If anyone's an attorney or a law student here, please help me with this!

[I remember in Extraordinary Attorney Woo, there was this case where a daughter's family sued a hotel's management for a wedding dress slip-up. I'm operating under the same assumptions, even though South Korean laws and United States laws can vary)

Did you like that Perfect Match reference? :)

This is the coin, the Ban Liang, that the Calloway Museum faked:

I'm not a numismatics expert either! So some details might be ambiguous, wrong, vague, etc. If you happen to know something about the general manufacturing of these coins, how they were smelted, sculpted, etc, please reach out. I want to include some details!

Okay that's all. Thanks for reading!

Tag List

Please let me know if you'd like to be tagged for my works. Since I lost a majority of my works & my tag list in my "reboot", I have a hard time recalling things. You can always DM me, send an ask, reblog or comment or get the info to me any way you like. Currently there are 4 lists: Perma, Crimes of Passion only, Open Heart only & Wake the Dead only.

Perma: @ofmischiefandmedicine, @quixoticdreamer16 @tessa-liam

Crimes only: @aallotarenunelma @ao719 @trappedinfanfiction

#trystan thorne x nora rose #crimes of passion choices #trystan thorne #nora rose #w:inlocusmads #cfwc naughty or nice

[foxfoots]

@schmem14, I like the way you think. Cool idea, and thanks a bunch for the invite. These are in no particular order. All of these books were chosen because they had a significant impact on how I read, perceive the world, try to conduct my own thoughts and actions. Some of these works are problematic/troubling to me today. I’ve read all of these multiple times and share how my thoughts on them have changed over the years. I hope I’m not too rambly! I'm not tagging anyone, but all who see this are welcome to share.

Coming of Age in Mississippi, Anne Moody. I think was the first memoir by a women involved in the US Civil Rights movement that I read. Moody tells her own life story here in a way that is true and very personal. Her voice and experiences were and are very different from the famous and more lauded male leaders of the movement I’d learned about in high school history classes. The Parchman Prison (and its many atrocities) written about in this memoir still exist.

Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen. When I saw previews of the beautiful miniseries on A&E network in 1996 I immediately tore through this novel. Reader, I loved it. I still appreciate the author’s complex use of gender and class expectations. Austen has a wicked wit and sometimes sharp tongue- her real life letters are also a good read.

Fun Home, Alison Bechdel. This memoir changed my opinion on graphic novels (they’re not all comic books about men in tights), and Bechdel’s thoughts on pop culture, queer studies, and feminism are thought provoking. The artwork and writing are fab, funny, tragic, insightful.

Cather in the Rye, JD Salinger. When I was 15 I pulled this off the library shelf, read the first page (phony bastards!), and carried it directly to the circulation desk. Holden Cauffield’s character and narrative voice were a modern splash of cold literary water and introduced me to a different kind of protagonist. I think this is the kind of book you read at different ages/stages in life and see different things. As an adult… wow, Holden’s life if full of neglectful and absent adults.

Readings for Diversity and Social Justice, & Teaching for Diversity and Social Justice, Maurianne Adams et al. These books are/were pivotal in shaping my work as a social justice educator. The teaching guides and bibliographies and articles are designed to challenge bias and privilege and encourage individuals to critically examine institutions and the status quo. They’re now a bit dated and feel very academic…

The House on Mango Street, Sandra Cisneros. This novella is a short read but jam-packed full of beautifully lyrical (almost magical, sometimes) language and life in a working class, Latinx neighborhood. Esperanza shares incredibly insightful observations about culture and prejudice, sexism and sexual assault, gender roles, poverty.

The Mists of Avalon, Marion Zimmer Bradley. A book about the Arthurian legends that isn’t dude-centric! This giant tome of a book swept me into a fascination with the various and differing lore of Camelot. Later re-reads seemed troubling in that the violence against women seemed less old-timey misogyny and more just straight up brutal. I can’t read this book anymore because of the revelations of abuse and enabling of abuse by the author- it makes the book’s violence even more disturbing for me.

Coming Home, Rosamunde Pilcher. This is my go-to easy read when I’m feeling nostalgic or sentimental. My favorite of Pilcher’s “Aga Sagas,” this WWII novel clocks in at almost 1,000 pgs and helped fire a lifelong love of stories set in UK.

To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee. I now find this book troubling and racist, but at 17 it was powerful and a felt like an exposé of racial violence and prejudice. No one in my life wanted to discuss these topics. TKAM is flawed and a classic example of the white savior. I think it’s worth comparing the overt racism of Lee’s characters to both modern micro-aggressions and the raging violence we see in hate crimes, policing… pretty much everywhere.

Saint Maybe, Anne Tyler. The best of Tyler’s books, IMO. It’s an absolute gem as she explores her main themes of family life in Baltimore. What is family- are we born to it, or can we create our own definitions and bonds? The characters are incredibly well written. This is a comfort read for me, and re-reading it reminds me that I’m allowed to enjoy “beachy” reads.