#like she would murder him if it was something like a full blown face

[noteguk]

Would bi!jk ever get a tattoo related to the ox? That would be so romantic 😭😪❤️

Hmmmm probably!! But something discrete otherwise she would go crazy about it

#like she would murder him if it was something like a full blown face

[kooktrash]

seven days to love | jeon jungkook

summary: jeon jungkook is nothing but your obnoxious new coworker who can’t seem to get the hint that you’re not interested. he’s loud, clumsy, and a bit of a player who knows his way with girls. what started off as an immediate physical attraction toward you quickly changed to a full blown crush that jungkook just can’t seem to let go. for seven days the two of you must work together alone at the store and each day jungkook takes as a chance to get you to notice him.

➣ genre/au: coworker jungkook x reader [she/her, female anatomy], co workers au, smut. himbo jk

➣ 14.2k words

warnings: smut. jk is obsessed with reader in a cute way. based off seven music video but he’s as slutty as the lyrics. he’s a gym rat who likes to read comics and talk about y/n. workplace sëx. oral [both receiving]. unprotected bc they’re literally at a record store having sex on the cash counter at the end. slapping. choking. hair pulling. switch jk. reader is insecure in relationships. jk likes to be yelled at. reader hates him but he’s all heart eyes googoo gaga. oc is mean at times but they’re lowkey v similar except Jk Is v clumsy. oc has piercings and tattoo but in a girly pop way

song inspo: seven — jeon jungkook

There was something soothing about reorganizing vinyls to your liking. You like them in a specific order that not everyone can replicate and that’s why it’s your zone. You’re the one in charge of organizing them, not anyone else, so why does Jeon Jungkook keep fucking with them?

“Jungkook!”

He practically jumped over the cashier’s counter to run to you, bumping into a rack of CDs and making a couple fall. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes when he lifted his index finger asking you to wait just one second. Your arms were crossed over your chest impatiently and you watched him pick them up from

the floor and try to reorganize them, only for a couple more to fall.

“Jungkook,” you repeated and this time around he just let them go and went to you with a smile. “Yeah?”

“Did you touch my vinyls again?” You watched as he slowly blinked, eyes shifting to the side as if Taehyung — who was watching the interaction safely in the sound booth — would help him out. Taehyung just smiled and leaned further against the window to get a better look at what he can only presume is Jungkook’s third murder this week.

“Uh, no?” He wasn’t smiling or anything but you could clearly see the way his dimples teased their way out when he looked at what you wore today. His attention drifted away and it took everything in you not to snapp your fingers and make him look back up. Instead you just took a step toward the shelf and tried to continue.

“Really?” You asked as you pointed a finger to a section, “So why is Chemtrails Over the Country Club next to Ultraviolence Deluxe when their releases are seven years apart?”

“Um,” Jungkook scratched the back of his head, “Don’t you color code them?”

“No,” you released a small sigh as you grabbed the vinyl and put it in its rightful spot between Blue Banisters and Norman F****** Rockwell, “I do it by release date.”

“But wouldn’t it be more—“ Jungkook stopped his train of thought when he paid attention to the small twitch in your eye, “You know what, my bad Y/n, I just wanted to make it easier for you but I get it. I wouldn’t want you fucking up my comic book order.”

“Glad, we have a mutual understanding then,” You said with a tight smile, “Don’t touch my vinyls.”

“Got it,” Jungkook smiled, “Hey, so later Taehyung and I are gonna go get some drinks after work, would you like to y’know co—“

“No.”

“That’s cool! Yeah, uh, it was probably gonna be boring!” Jungkook yelled after you as you left him, “Not even worth your time, I get it! I mean, we can do something else if you’re intereste—“

“I’m not,” you said as you dragged a cart full of boxes toward the backroom, “Thanks for the offer though.”

Jungkook watched you leave him with a smile on his face that made him look like a complete idiot because it has become very clear to everyone else that you don’t like him.

“Wow, you’re so pathetic it’s actually funny,” Taehyung laughed as he came running down from the loft. Jungkook lifted his middle finger to him as he tucked his hair behind his ears.

“Am I ugly?” Jungkook asked.

“A little,” Jimin said with a shrug.

“Is that why Y/n doesn’t like me?” Jungkook asked, looking back at his friend.

“Y/n doesn’t like anyone, don't take it personal,” Taehyung said honestly, “But she especially doesn’t like you because you can’t take a hint.”

Jungkook released a dramatic gasp, “What do you mean?”

“Kook, you’ve been working here two weeks already and Y/n has not shown a single ounce of interest in you, give it up already,” Taehyung patted Jungkook on the shoulder reassuringly. Jungkook shook his hand off, “Maybe she’s not good at picking up hints.”

“Or maybe she just doesn’t like you,” Taehyung said, beginning to walk away back to the sound booth where music played from, “Y/n doesn’t like guys who seem like players.”

“But she doesn’t even know me,” Jungkook said, “I’m not a player…”

“Kook, you’ve had zero girlfriends in the past two years yet you always have some girl hanging off of you,” Taehyung told him, heading back upstairs, “Aren’t you messing around with someone right now?”

“Um,” Jungkook scratched the back of his head dumbly, “Yeah Yu—no, uh, Sua, I think, but it’s not really working out. She’s getting a little too clingy for my liking.”

“And now you’re trying to move onto Y/n?” Taehyung asked with a chuckle, swinging the sound booth door open and taking a seat. He flipped some notches on the sound board and a new song began to play, getting broadcasted on their small radio station.

“I mean she’s hot.”

“That’s it?” Taehyung asked with furrowed brows and said, “And that’s why it’ll never work out. You’re not her type.”

Jungkook stayed at the open door until Jimin shooed him away with a flick of his hand and he left.

It’s been about two weeks since he got this job with his close friend. Jungkook had been in search of a job for weeks when he went to Taehyung venting about it. His landlord had upped the price of rent for his one bedroom apartment and told him last minute so it was very unexpected. He already had another job working part time at a fitness center but it wasn’t paying enough so he switched it up. He would like to go back to fitness training but right now he needs to save up and get his shit settled before he makes any changes.

On his first day he only worked with Taehyung and his boss, Namjoon, he didn’t meet you till about two days later and he was immediately attracted to you. You weren’t the only one at work who caught his attention but you’re the main one. The others were cute but you’re the one that gets him a little excited to come to work.

It’s because you want nothing to do with him and he wants to know why. You don’t know him and sure, maybe you can tell that he might be a player but… he’s not a bad guy. You seemed to not like him at all from the get go and it’s not fair . The only people he sees you smiling at are Namjoon and Sungha.

What does he have to do to make you notice him? When he asked Taehyung earlier if he was ugly, it was just a bitter joke. He knows he’s not ugly. He knows that he can be charming and that he can get any girl he wants if he really wanted to, so why is it that the one he is focused on right now won’t even bat an eye in his direction unless it’s to tell him off?

He’ll admit, he does like the fact that you just won’t give him the time of day at all, it’s kinda hot. The way you roll your pretty eyes at him looking annoyed even if he can always find a hint of amusement in them. When you don’t pull your gaze away from his like most girls normally would, you’re not intimidated by him. He can say the most daring verse to you and you’ll just blankly stare at him and scoff. Don’t even get him started on how he feels when you stand there looking up at him because of your height difference and try to tell him off. He knows he’s supposed to feel scolded but he always gets a little giddy on the inside.

Since when was he ever into girls who were a little mean to him?

You never considered yourself a complicated person. If anything, you always felt like an open book, someone who people could easily read and learn about. You’ve only just recently begun to learn that that’s not the case at all, that in truth you are a very difficult person to read while also being predictable. It was all a jumbled mess and no matter how hard your friends tried explaining it to you right now you were a little too drunk to understand.

“I just can’t tell what you’re thinking half the time,” Jimin slurred on his words a bit as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, squeezing you into him. You scrunch your face in disgust trying to put some distance between you as he went on, “I mean… I’ve seen you turn down like three guys in the last hour. You mean to tell me not a single one of them interested you?”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion as you looked around the club curiously, “Did a single one of them look interesting?”

Jimin didn’t say anything, taken back by your straight response and by the time he had figured out what to say, Sungha was pummeling right through him, “Oh my god, you won’t believe who I just saw!”

“Who?” Jimin asked as the two of you immediately forgot about your previous conversation.

It was a Saturday night and you were out drinking with your friends but at one point it became a small intervention between you and Jimin where he would tell you what was wrong with you. To be clear, there’s nothing wrong with you.

You haven’t been in a relationship in a while but that doesn’t mean you’ve completely shut men off. There’s been a few exceptions but you’ve learned that you are a very picky person. It’s not your fault that you know what you like and what you don’t. Sure, sometimes it might be a bit much but that’s why you choose to stay single. No real man is ever going to fit your male fantasy so why bother even going out with one?

You enjoy coming out with your friends at the end of the week to forget all the stress from work and school but that didn’t mean you had to entertain whatever bozo came offering up some short pick up line or cheap drink. You’re still trying to get Jimin to understand that.

“Jungkook!” Sungha squealed drunkenly, “I only saw him in passing but he was with some people.”

“I thought it was someone important,” you sighed, rolling your eyes, you waved her off, “Whatever, I’m gonna get another drink. Are you guys fine here?”

“Go ahead,” Jimin said, “I don’t want to lose our table.”

You left your two friends behind as you headed toward the bar at once more to get something to drink. Part of you felt a little wary now that Sungha has very enthusiastically said how she ran into Jungkook. What if you ran into him too? That would be so awkward. You already had to see him at work every day and you’re just not interested in having to deal with him outside of work too.

It’s not that you hate him, he amuses you with his weird antics but it’s just too much. You can’t tell if he follows you all around all day because he’s into you or if that is just how he usually is. He seems to be a player so this could just be how he is and he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. You’re not sure why he seems to always be at your side even when you’re very clearly annoyed by him, but he just never backs down. It’s exhausting even if you do think he’s attractive and charming.

When you got to the bar, some guy helped you cut through the crowd of loitering people and you were able to put your drink order in, taking note of the circular bar at the center of the room. It went all the way around and as you trained your eyes along the circular bar, your gaze landed on someone directly across from you on the other side of all the drinks.

So, Jungkook really is here.

You meant to look away but you found yourself taking in the sight of everyone surrounding him. He was turned away from you so all you saw was his side profile but you knew it was him either way. He was busy talking with two girls who laughed at everything he said and you’re sure he’s probably flirting his way through to their numbers. There were some guys around him who you assume are his other friends but he was entertaining the girls without any worry for his friends.

Just as you were busy studying the pretty girls he was talking to, you looked back at him, his dark eyes meeting yours and you quickly looked away. He just caught you staring, shit.

You could leave and disappear through the crowd to ignore his watching eyes but the bartender was still trying to make your drink so there was nowhere else to go. From the corner of your eye, you could see him lean down and whisper something to all the girls before he was pointing at you and you curiously look back. Jungkook bit back a smile with his teeth sunken into his bottom lip as he began walking away from them and heading around the bar.

The bartender came back and you quickly took out your card to hurry up and pay and you tapped your foot anxiously like it would speed up the process. You wanted to leave before Jungkook got to you.

Maybe you were overthinking it or overly confident but in reality maybe Jungkook won’t even come to you with any of his usual shenanigans. You’re outside of work and he could be a completely different person. Maybe at work you’re the only one he can entertain himself with and—

“I was wondering if I was gonna get to see you too,” Jungkook’s voice boomed over the loud music and you jumped in surprise as the bartender gave you your card back and receipt. You looked back at him, “What?”

Jungkook smiled sweetly at you as you finally left the bar and he went with you, “I saw Sungha earlier so I was wondering if you would be around here too.”

“Were you? You seemed kinda preoccupied with something else,” you blurred out before you could stop yourself, releasing a sigh when you saw him following you.

Not different from work at all.

“Oh? So you were watching, for a second I thought I was getting ahead of myself, usually you don’t pay any attention to me,” Jungkook said teasingly and you found yourself rolling your eyes like you normally would.

“Poor you,” you said as you looked around for Jimin and Sungha but stopped. Did you really want to bring him to them? Sungha would understand, sure she thinks it’s cute that Jungkook seems to be into you but Jimin would read too into it. He’s always looking for some sort of gossip and you bringing around Jungkook would definitely raise questions after scolding you for not paying attention to any guys.

“Why’d we stop? You want to dance?” Jungkook asked, looking as everyone seemed to dance or grind on each other. You were practically on the dance floor and he was intrigued. His hand touched your lower back as if to guide you but you whipped around to face him, so close that his breath hitched, feeling like he was just caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing.

“Your friends are probably wondering where you went,” you said, trying to hint that he should probably go already but he just smiled down at you with his bunny teeth on display.

“I told them I was gonna be with my favorite person in the world,” Jungkook said and you rolled your eyes with a huff in annoyance.

“Don’t you get tired of always joking around?” You asked suddenly, making his brows furrowed in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you always joke like that at work but you don’t have to act like this if we see each other in public. We’re not friends, I wouldn’t be mad if we didn’t acknowledge each other,” you gave him a shrug of his shoulders looking up at him.

He slowly blinked in thought, like he still didn’t understand what you meant and that made you smile. You brought a hand up to his shoulder, fixing his silver necklace as you said, “I’ll see you at work?”

“Huh?” Jungkook asked as he brought a hand up to touch yours but you moved it away. You waved, beginning to walk away, “Bye, Jungkook.”

“Bye?”

MONDAY

Taehyung stared at Jungkook unimpressed. He was finally at work again and he was filling in his dear friend on the events of the weekend. He’s just told Taehyung about how he saw you looking at him and he went to hang out with you only for you to just tell him bye. Once again, you didn’t even try.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Taehyung said as he reclined back on his spinning chair, “Y/n doesn’t like players.”

“But I wasn’t even doing any—“

“What were those girls trying to talk to you about?” Taehyung asked with a raised brow as Jungkook tried to think for a second.

Well, the girls came up to him just after he had gotten drinks for him, Jin and Yoongi and they just started randomly talking to him. They asked if he worked out a lot and it was definitely flirty but what did Jungkook do back? Okay.. he did flirt back but not because he was feeling one of the girls. That’s just how he is, he was just flirting to flirt and nothing more. How was he supposed to know you were watching?

Is this why you thought he was a player?

Oh my god, did you think he was a slut?

“Alright, so what should I do for Y/n to take me seriously?” Jungkook watched Taehyung stand up as he began to turn off his sound system and clean up his work area. Taehyung sighed in thought as he grabbed his backpack out of the closet and packed up his belongings, “Do you actually like Y/n? Because if you’re doing this because you’re bored it’s just going to ruin it for everyone at work.”

Jungkook looked taken back by the question and he had to think about this for a second. What exactly did Taehyung mean?

Yeah, he likes you. Well at first he just thought you were really hot and he still does but that’s not it. He likes that he can’t read you. At first he thought you were this cute chick he was going to work with who seemed to dress brightly sometimes and smiled sweetly when you wanted to. He thought you would have a cute personality.

Then he saw that tattoo tucked behind your ear. It was a straight line of hearts in red ink and it was cute but he did see you a bit differently after that. Especially when you came in wearing a dress one day and he found another tattoo on your back between your shoulder blades that he’s sure went all the way down your spine. He couldn’t tell what that one was but that made him more curious about you. The night of the party he found a new one. Tucked underneath the small strap of your top was a tattoo on your collarbone. It seems like maybe a quote or song lyric but it looked so good on you and he just got more and more curious.

Do you have more tattoos? What about more piercings? Your ears seem to have a good handful of piercing too and your nose is pierced too but was that all? Maybe he couldn’t see where else you might have a piercing and jeez that just drives him absolutely insane.

Your music taste makes him curious too. He realized you’re very territorial over your Lana Del Rey vinyls and some other artists too but he wants to know your favorite songs and how many concerts you’ve gone to. He wants to know if you like any of the same artists and if so should he make you a mixtape of all his favorite songs?

“I like Y/n,” Jungkook finally admitted and this time around he looked serious about it. Even Taehyung seemed to pause and stare at his friend waiting for him to crack a smile but he didn't and with a deep breath he decided to offer up an idea.

“Maybe you can show Y/n you’re serious, only be about her,” Taehyung said swinging his bag on and heading toward the door, “That means stop flirting with other girls, You probably proved to Y/n that you’re a flirt the other night so you’ll need to stop that if you want her to take you seriously. I’m not saying it’ll help but it might.”

Jungkook nodded his head in acknowledgment and Taehyung had absolutely no doubt in his mind that his friend was taking mental notes. He left his lofted sound booth and Jungkook followed him down the staircase to the main floor. The way the store was set up, it looked like a modernized warehouse.

Up on the loft was where Namjoon’s office was and where Taehyung broadcasted music in store and on the local radio. The loft overlooked the main floor where you and the others usually worked.

Jungkook was in charge of comics and manga, you were in charge of vinyls, Sungha was in charge of movies, Hoseok’s area was CDs and cassettes. You all had a specific station that made the store run smoothly and switch on and off of who did register, tonight it was your turn and you had to close with Jungkook all by yourself.

“Alright, I’m off,” Taehyung said as he got behind the counter and clocked out, “I’ll be back Sunday and Namjoon is back on Monday, Sungha and Hobi will do morning shifts but you two have to close so please, and I’m literally begging, Y/n don’t kill Jungkook. At least not till we’re back, I don’t think I can train another person after Jungkook.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes though he blushed at the reminder of when his friend trained him. He accidentally logged a bunch of things wrong during their weekly inventory and it took days to fix. You actually smiled, also remembering it, it annoyed the hell out of you back then but you realized it wasn’t entirely his fault that he didn’t know how to do it. It was just funny for Taehyung to bring it up again. Jungkook watched you smile and it made him smile too as he leaned against the counter just the way you did.

“Bye guys,” Taehyung waved goodbye as he prepared himself for a week-long trip in Daegu visiting his family and friends back home. Namjoon went on some business owner retreat where they attended boring seminars and connected with other businesses to trade and learn how to better their business not just for themselves but for the neighborhood.

“Bye,” Jungkook waved cheerily as he moved to the side to let you check some customers out.

Around this time of night there weren’t that many people coming in but there were a few. The store was open early in the morning and closed late at night every day. Namjoon’s reasoning for this? There’s a couple coffee shops around here and usually people like to come in and browse their music to pass time, you’ll especially see couples and teens in here. At night there’s bars and restaurants a few streets down and usually people come in looking to rent movies so they’re open till 11:00pm every night. Jungkook had about three more hours with you.

“So, how’d you wake up yesterday? Were you hungover at all?” Jungkook asked as the customers left and there was a small gap in time where you were the only two people in the store. You had already walked away from the counter, most likely to recover the floor such as fix displays or put things back where they go instead of just shoved wherever a customer decided to leave it. Jungkook began to copy you.

“No,” you said, turning your back to him as you moved a few CDs back where Hoseok usually has them and ignoring how Jungkook was trailing a few feet behind you acting like he was doing the same.

Jungkook nodded, not giving up even if it was clear you didn’t want to talk to him. You were already leaving the CDs to go check on your vinyls and he was going down the next aisle to act like he wasn’t just following you, “Same, I never really get hungover. I can actually hold my liquor pretty well.”

You raised your brows acting interested and just as you were about to round the corner you came face to face a black vinyl with a white sound wave on it. Arctic Monkeys’ AM album. Jungkook was hiding behind it and he peaked around the large square and smiled cheekily, “Can we listen to this?”

You wanted to say no but you didn’t really have a reason to. You just nodded your head and left to Taehyung’s sound booth again with Jungkook hot on your trail. You pointed a finger down, “Stay here in case customers come.”

“Bu—“ his words caught in his throat when you glared at him and he just nodded looking defeated as he watched you head upstairs without him acting like a clingy puppy who can’t leave you alone.

You got on the monitor and tried to search for the album so that you wouldn’t damage any of the actual vinyls. You scrolled through the songs and hit shuffle, queuing up a song that didn’t explain what you wanted to tell Jungkook but it’ll at least ring a bell in his noggin.

Jungkook smiled as you finally came back down to him and he paid close attention, unintentionally singing the exact line you wanted him to hear.

“I wanna grab both your shoulders and shake, baby, snap out of it,” Jungkook sang happily and you smiled in clear amusement as he sang to his heart’s content, completely missing the fact that you’re telling him to snap out of this little crush he seems to have on you.

He’s not your type and you’re sure you’re not his. He’s just bored.

Your smile seemed to drop just as his began to widen as the next song shuffled in began to play. The lyrics were sort of ridiculous but at the same time stupidly romantic and Jungkook immediately went into a dramatically serious mode as he sang.

“Secrets I have held in my heart,” he sang softly and you were surprised to hear what a pretty voice he had as you went back to sit behind the counter just watching him sing, “Are harder to hide than I thought.”

Jungkook wasn’t even paying that much attention as he subconsciously followed you, standing in front of the counter and playing with some of the small knick knacks for sale like miniature record player figurines and cardboard cassette models, “Maybe I just wanna be yours, I wanna be yours, I wanna be…”

His words cut off when he found you looking at him and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. His face flushed red in embarrassment when he realized you were still looking at him and like usual, you didn’t shy away by pulling your gaze from his. The night of the club was the first time you ever looked away first and he didn’t like that, he’s more used to staring into your eyes.

“I didn’t know you could sing,” you said casually like it was no big deal and at the sound of the first compliment you’ve ever given him, he accidentally knocked down the pyramid of cassette models making you both scramble to catch them all but they fell anyway. You released a deep breath with a roll of your eyes at the mess he made and Jungkook managed to hit his head on the counter when he tried picking it up, debating if he should just flatten himself against the floor and wait for it to just sink him in until he was nothing but hardwood panels—maybe then he’ll quick being a mess.

“Just a little, I just…” Jungkook shrugged, unsure of how to finish what he was saying, still embarrassed, especially when he looked up and found you smiling a little wider.

Even in his clearly hot mess of a state, he smiles too knowing that he’s made you smile an actual smile.

As if realizing you were being soft on Jungkook, you immediately straightened out your expression out of fear that he would think he’s growing on you.

He is growing on you but that’s not the point.

You don’t want to give him a sliver of hope that something will spark between you two. He’s not your type and you’re not interested in entertaining any guy at the moment. Especially not one like Jungkook who grabs everyone’s attention and can have whoever he wants.

You saw it the other night. Girls throw themselves at him so he’ll surely grow bored of pursuing someone who wants nothing to do with him.

It’s only natural.

TUESDAY

Considering the store opened 10am and closed at 11pm, it meant that there were a lot of work hours during the week to get through. Sungha and Hobi usually clocked in around 9am to get the store ready for open and by about 4pm their shift was up and you and Jungkook would clock in. Usually your schedules were a little more unorganized but since both Namjoon and Taehyung would be gone it meant that the four of you had to cover the rest and since you had morning summer classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays, you had to work night time. Jungkook said he would cover the evening shift too just to be with you.

During the day he’ll just lounge around waiting to come to work and go to the gym and do some workouts or boxing. By the time he came into work he was clean and dressed to impress you but today he didn’t seem to have much luck for it.

He was running late and didn’t have time for a proper shower at home and ended up having to wash up at the gym. He got stuck wearing a black compression shirt that he had extra in his bag and a pair of gray sweats.

“Why do you kinda look like Toji from Jujutsu Kaisen?” Sungha asked as he walked in ready to clock in. He looked down at himself and how ridiculously he looked, “I was running late.”

“Yeah well you look like a slut,” Hoseok joked walking up to him and suddenly smacked Jungkook’s chest, hitting his pecs which were clearly visible through the compression shirt along with his abs. Jungkook immediately brought a hand up to his chest with a groan as the rest of you laughed, “Put your man boobs away.”

“Fuck off, I didn’t have time to run home for clothes, all of you can scatter,” Jungkook said rolling his eyes before looking at you, “Except you, Y/n.”

You scoffed with a smile, “Thanks, now stop harassing Jungkook, his body, his choice and if he wants to look like a slutty gym rat he can!”

Jungkook smiled giddily now, “Yeah! What Y/n said, if I wanna look like a slutty gym rat then I can. Hobi you’re mad I have more muscles than you and Sungha you’re mad I have bigger boobs than you.”

Sungha came tunneling toward Jungkook, “Say that again, brat! I’m your noona, show me some respect.”

“Only person I respect is Y/n,” Jungkook said as she clenched his shirt in her fists, “So stop groping me. Aren’t you two off already?”

“Let’s go Sungha,” Hoseok said with a shake of his head. You waved them goodbye and Jungkook finally got behind you to clock in. You moved to the side to give him space but he only moved closer with a childish smile, “Hi, Y/n.”

“Hello Jungkook,” you said as you left the counter. It was Jungkook’s turn on the register and you were very thankful for that. It was shipment day which meant you had to check in all the boxes delivered first then check in every item in the boxes and get them put away. Considering Jungkook messed it up last time you wanted to do it.

You left to the backroom to begin to bring boxes out and Jungkook followed you, carrying more than one to the counter. Hoseok and Sungha managed to get some done but didn’t get to finish so it was your turn.

You checked in a box of comics and began taking everything out with Jungkook’s help. A small laugh left your lips, “Look, new manga and one is Jujutsu Kaisen. Let’s see if you really do look like Toji.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes but couldn’t find it in himself to be bothered by you keeping on the running joke, his hand went to his chest still sensitive from Hobi’s slap. He’ll have to get back at him soon.

A group of customers came swarming in and the two of you had to focus on work.

By the time night rolled around and the store was ready to close, you were on your phone a lot. Jungkook tried talking to you but you would barely bat an eye in his direction and it made him a bit sad. A bunch of girls would come in giggling trying to compliment them and for the first time ever, Jungkook didn’t entertain it. He simply helped them with whatever they needed and went back to the register.

At closing time you closed up the register while he recovered the floor and the two of you were able to leave at a timely manner. Jungkook twisted his key around in his hand as he watched you lock the front door, “Where are you headed? I’ll give you a lift.”

“I’ll get the bus,” you said, standing straight and staring down the street. You were always hot and cold with him. One second you would be smiling and joking and the next you would barely acknowledge that he was even there. Yesterday you talked to him but today you didn’t pay any attention to him aside from when the other two were here. Jungkook practically ran after you, “Then I’ll walk with you, it’s late anyway.”

“It’s fine, I always leave by myself,” you said with a roll of your eyes. Here he is not leaving you alone again. Jungkook shook his head no, defying, “I want to walk with you though.”

“I don’t need you to though.”

“But,” Jungkook huffed, “But you barely paid any attention to me an—“

“Are you always this clingy?” You whipped around to ask, once again so close that Jungkook had to take a step back to keep from bumping into you.

“Yes,” Jungkook said casually, “Well no but I want to make sure you get back safely. Plus it looks like it might rain an—“

“Fine! Hurry up and take me home then,” you sighed, giving up. You forgot that the forecast said 80% chance of rain and knowing your luck you’ll be stuck in it before the bus even gets here.

Jungkook nodded enthusiastically, “Alright, come on. I’ll even give you aux.”

He drove a shiny black Mercedes and he was strangely kind enough to open your door for you, making you sigh as you got in his car. You keep telling yourself he’s just being nice or that he’s just trying to get some but every day he shows you a different side of him that you’re not used to.

Yesterday it was that he can sing.

And today it was his music taste, he was surprisingly a pop music guy who liked Charlie Puth.

“I just didn’t expect you to like that kind of music. I expected you to be more into hard rock or something,” You told him. You were already close to your apartment and you acted like you didn’t notice the way he slowed his driving down to stall your departure.

“For the gym, I do, usually Deftones, maybe a little bit of Pierce the Veil but usually I like more upbeat sounds,” Jungkook told you. He was surprisingly a lot calmer when it was just you two and he wasn’t chasing you around the store. His voice was more relaxed and he didn’t seem to be in a rush to get close to you.

You looked ahead as he slowed down a little more, “Right here is fine.”

“Okay,” Jungkook said softly, looking down at his lap in thought. How could he get you to stay a little longer?

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Jungkook cleared his throat and for a second you debated listening or not. What if he said something ridiculous like he tends to? It would ruin a good night.

“Yeah?”

“How many tattoos do you have? I’ve seen three but something tells me that’s not it,” Jungkook said curiously, “And can I see them?”

“Not all of them,” you told him, “But I have six, just small ones here and there. Not as many as you though.”

He smiled, “Yeah, I still want more.”

“Which ones are your favorite?” You found yourself asking, not leaving yet. Jungkook him in thought as he looked over the ones you could see.

“Not sure, I love them all,” he said before looking back at you, “Which one of mine do you like the most?”

Your brows furrowed in concentration but it was so dark you could barely see. Jungkook pushed on the overhead light and for some reason it made the small confines of his car feel more intimate than when they were off.

“This one,” you pressed your index finger to the flower on his arm, “What is it?”

“My birth flower, I just got it colored,” Jungkook said proudly, “And I drew it myself so I feel really special to know it’s your favorite.”

He looked over at you with a smile and sparkly eyes that had you realizing just how close the two of you had gotten. You were both leaning into each other to look at his tattoos and suddenly this didn’t feel so casual.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, moving back to u buckle your seatbelt, “Alright well I guess it’s time I get out. See you tomorrow.”

“I can pick you up!” Jungkook said as you opened the door, “Before work I mean, we go in at the same time anyway and—“

“I’m good, but thanks for the offer,” you said getting out and just before you closed the door, you bid him Goodnight.

He sat in his car waiting for you to make it into your building softly and when you got to the door you turned and waved back at him one more time. He couldn’t help but immediately get on his phone.

jungkook: my fav tattoo of urs is the one on ur back

WEDNESDAY

You must be out of your mind for being here right now. After begging you all day to come out for just one drink, you got tired of telling him no and found yourself sitting at a bar with Jungkook to your left.

“So you’re taking summer classes so you can graduate a little earlier?” Jungkook asked, playing with the wrapper of his straw. You really don’t know how you got here but now you’re being interrogated by Jungkook with 21 questions as he tried to get to know you better.

“That’s the plan but I think I’m still a little behind, what about you? Did you go to school?” You asked him casually.

Jungkook was a few years older than you. He was 25 and you were still 21 so if he went to school he was probably done by now if he got a bachelor’s or even an associate’s degree. Jungkook was quiet for a moment before he said, “I did but I dropped out. I didn’t know what I wanted to do and I didn’t have money to keep going even with financial help.”

You nodded understandingly. The only reason why you were still in school was because you got a little bit of help but you would still be going in debt because of it. You didn’t know what to do either so you chose to major in business because it was a broad enough course of study that you still had a few options. He looked over at you almost embarrassed but you just gave him a reassuring smile, “School’s not for everyone.”

“I wish a lot more people understood that,” Jungkook said, “It still stresses me out knowing majority of my friends graduated. I know Jimin and Hobi still work here and they’re older but at the same time they’re pursuing their interests differently. Hoseok teaches dance classes on the side and Jimin does vocal coaching but I’m just… y’know I’m still trying to figure things out. In the future I would like to own my own fitness center but I’ll probably have to go back to school for that or at least find other ways to be certified.”

“I’m sure Joon would help you figure out how to run a business,” you offered and it did reassure him that you seemed to understand him better. Jungkook has never really talked about this sort of stuff with a girl. Usually it’s all superficial and he’s not sure how this conversation came about but he’s surprisingly really thankful for it. You’re younger than him by four years but you just seem so much more with the way you think.

You don’t have your life figured out either but you seem to have an understanding that not everyone works the same and you don’t make him feel smaller for not having a college degree.

He really is more into you than he first thought. He’ll never deny the fact that the main reason he was after you was because he found you attractive but now that’s it’s just you two this week you’ve had no choice but to talk to him and he’s been really able to get to know you better.

“Y/n, I was thinking—“

“Jungkook?”

His body froze as his words caught and he debated for a second not turning around. The lounge bar was small and quiet so he wanted to come here to talk to you better, he didn’t expect to run into anyone he knew. Especially not Sua who stood behind him with a tight smile and raised brows. He looked to you but you looked to her and he had to turn to see her, “Sua.”

“Nice to see you out and about,” Sua said but he could hear the strain in her voice, “After two weeks of not talking I thought maybe something happened but you seem to be doing just fine.”

You looked away, figuring this has nothing to do with you and instead went on your phone as you listened in on how Jungkook would get himself out of this situation.

Just when he started growing on you, you’re reminded that he’s just a man and he’s still a player, probably trying to get in your pants before he moves on to the next. Why has he been trying so hard for three weeks if he was still going to have girls on the side? You don’t think this is a former girlfriend but she’s definitely someone he used to mess around with. He doesn’t seem like the relationship type anyway.

“Uh, yeah,” Jungkook said looking back to you but you weren’t paying attention anymore. This was awkward enough for him but if you started ignoring him again, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle it.

Sua has never been more than a fling. They didn’t go on dates or call each other 24/7, they only ever talked when they were looking to get drunk and possibly hook up. Even then it’s been about two weeks since he’s spoken or texted a single word to her so for her to just pop out of nowhere and remind him that he’s… well, a player [?] while you’re sitting next to him and he’s trying to get you to like him, it just doesn’t sit well with him.

Sua looked to you expectantly like you would introduce yourself to her but you’ve got no intention to do that. You don’t know her and you don’t owe her anything. She’s a complete stranger and she’s Jungkook’s problem not yours. You just looked back at her while she waited for you to crack but you weren’t at all intimidated and when she realized that she just rolled her eyes.

“Alright, well call me when you’ve had your fun,” Sua said, stomping away before Jungkook could say another word.

It went quiet between you two and the once light atmosphere became thick and heavy. He looked down, mentally cursing at himself for not being up front right now. He should’ve just told Sua it was done but he thought it was obvious when he stopped responding to her hundred texts. Also, he wasn’t sure how you would feel about him suddenly doing that.

With a deep breath he looked up at you apologetically, “I’m sorry, Y/n, I didn’t kn—“

“It’s late,” you said, checking the time. Half past 1:00am and you were ready to end it, “Let’s call it a night. I can get an Uber so you don’t have to waste your time driving me home.”

“No, Y/n, I want to take you home,” Jungkook said when in reality he wanted to stay and talk more. He might be a bit slow sometimes but right now he knows that whatever opening you were beginning to make for him immediately shut when Sua came.

In the end you let him drive you home since it was so late but you didn’t talk to him much. He tried making small conversation but you were back to barely acknowledging him and it was really getting to him. Is he back to square one?

“Y/n,” Jungkook’s voice was deeper than usual and lacked any of that weightless aura around it. Usually he was joking or energetic but right now not so much. He was in front of your building again and was watching you begin to unbuckle your seatbelt sadly, “What should I do?”

Your eyebrows scrunched together in confusion as you say in his car, “What do you mean?”

“What should I do to get you to notice me?”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, the two of you just staring at each other. What did he mean?

Jungkook leaned back against his seat as he waited for you to say something but you just stayed quiet. His eyes went from yours down to your nose ring, then your parted lips. It’s getting harder and harder for him not to look at them, they just looked so inviting even if you didn’t. He just wanted to kiss you so bad, maybe it’ll tell him if this is worth it all.

He’s always been the one to go based on physical touch. When he usually kisses someone, he’s not looking for that electric current to run through his veins but he’s looking for something that might make him want to do it again. Right now, any time he even thought about you it was unlike anything he’s felt in a long time. What if when you two kissed, he really does feel the butterflies in his stomach?

He’s not sure when this seemed to happen but he found himself just a few inches away from you. You looked down at his lips too and he wondered if you were also itching for a kiss. Deciding he wanted to test it out, he leaned the rest of the way and just before your lips touched…

“Doesn’t seem like you need me to notice you,” you said before your lips could touch and he didn’t realize his eyes had fallen shut until you said, “You have a lot of people who already do and I don’t like the idea of fighting for someone’s.”

“Y/n, that’s not what I mean—“

You slammed his car door shut and left like the two of you didn’t almost kiss.

THURSDAY

“You’re so mean.”

Your jaw dropped as you stared at the two in front of you, “How?”

“Well, it sounds like this guy has really been trying and you make him think he has a chance only to shut him down each time,” Jimin said, spinning in his desk chair as the three of you talked in his bedroom.

“That’s not true,” you argued back as you laid in his bed ranting about the past week with Jungkook.

You have to admit, he confuses you.

He’s just so… persistent but at the same time you can’t find it in yourself to consider him genuine. One second you think he is and the next you’re reminded that he’s very well sought after. That girl from last night was proof of it and if they talked just two weeks ago and Jungkook just stopped talking to her… then what happened?

He started working with you all three weeks ago and since the beginning he’s been on your ass, following you around like a puppy and annoying the shit out of you. Sure, she said it had been two weeks since he last spoke to her but that didn’t mean it was because of you. For all you knew, he had other girls satiating his needs and he just wasted his time on you at work.

You were filling in your closest friends on the past week but Jimin never seems to understand where you’re coming from. You’ve known him the longest and he knows all of your past dating experience better than anyone. You used to be the type to fall in love easily only to get your heart broken each time. After a while it got exhausting and you just stopped trying, now you’re closed off and you know it’s a problem but you can’t help it. What if you fall for another loser who just wants to play with your heart and then break it when they get bored?

You sighed, “Sungha, is that true?”

She sunk further into the beanbag she was occupying, like she wanted to hide from the question but when Jimin looked at her too, she spoke, “I mean… Jungkook really does seem like he’s trying. We all know he’s hot and has probably gotten around but he really is putting in the effort. Now I can’t say this is how he is when he’s interested in someone because I don’t know but… he seems to really mean it. Even before this week, he’s always been following you around and if he didn’t see you he would only ever stick to himself in the comics. When you’re there he’s smiling more, I don’t know. I don’t know how genuine he is but don’t act like you can’t see his effort, Y/n, it’s not fair to him.”

You scoffed as you pressed a pillow into your face, “It’s only been a week—“

“And he’s already shown more effort to get to know you in four days than any guy has in the entire relationship,” Jimin said coldly, “Doesn’t that mean anything to you? I don’t even know this guy aside from what you and Sungha have told me and even I could see that. When we went out drinking last week, I saw you two. He was right there beside you and you just shooed him away.”

“We work together, it’s awkward if I give in,” you said and even you knew it sounded like an excuse.

You were being honest though. What if you did let something happen between you? What if you opened up to him and he took you home one night, you hook up, and the next time at work he just ignores you?

“Stop making excuses and just try it,” Sungha said, “Either that or just stop making him think he has a chance by being hot one second and then cold the other.”

Jungkook sat across from his friends at a small rounded table for a late lunch. He hasn’t talked much today which was already strange considering usually he talks their ear off like it’s nobody’s business. Yoongi and Jin shared a concerned look but Jungkook didn’t even notice. He was too busy playing with his food and that was another concern of theirs.

“Everything alright? You haven’t even touched your food, that’s not normal,” Jin said, reaching out a reassuring hand to Jungkook who just rolled his eyes.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly, “I know things can’t just change in a week, it’s not enough time, but I’m running out of ideas. I’m trying and trying and every time I think Y/n will open up to me, something happens to change that. I don’t think I’ll ever get her to give me a chance.”

“But things are changing, Kook,” Yoongi said, “You said it yourself, Y/n let you take her home and you’ve been talking a lot more during work.”

“That’s because nobody else is around, not because she wants to, she’s just stuck with me for seven hours every day,” Jungkook said as he pushed his plate aside to rest his head on the table feeling absolutely defeated. Neither Yoongi nor Jin have ever met you but the amount of times Jungkook had ranted about you these past couple weeks really felt like they knew you.

You weren’t the quiet type but you weren’t the loud type either. You were somewhere in the middle and depending on the person or occasion, you’ll only show one side of yourself to them.

You like music a lot and though Jungkook’s section is comics and manga, you seem to have a small interest in those too. He always sees you browsing the books and the other day he found you reading a vintage Ironman comic.

You like to joke around a lot even if you don’t do it with Jungkook.

You seem to walk a fine line between organized and messy. Your vinyls are always clean but according to you, you always lag when it comes to cleaning your apartment.

You’re in school for business but you’re not sure what exactly you want to do with that.

You don’t care that he never finished school and you seemed to reassure him over it.

The point is, Jungkook talks about you all the time and every single time they think more and more of how similar you two are. He says you dress cute sometimes but you’ll act so cold. Other times you’ll dress in more dark colors but be the most bubbliest person that day. Just like Jungkook.

“Don’t give up, Koo,” Jin said finally, “You just need to show her that you’re serious. You need to tell Sua you’re done, don’t just ghost her and expect her to get the hint. Y/n probably still thinks you’re messing around with others. It hasn’t even been a full week yet so at least stick it out until Sunday. If by Sunday she still isn’t giving you a chance then maybe you should think about backing down.”

That night he tried to continue and be as bubbly with you as usual even if you barely gave him a response. He didn’t want to seem affected by the way that last night went when you completely blew off his kiss. It was his fault for the bad timing anyway and when he got home from work he called Sua.

He told her that he’s done and that he’s sorry for not saying it sooner but he really wants to pursue a real relationship with you. It upset her because he never wanted the same with her and it made him feel bad but he wasn’t going to back down from his word. He wanted you, nobody else, and he let every girl in his DMs and messages who he hasn’t answered in days know that too.

And by the time you closed, he slid a CD into your bag with some of his favorite songs hoping you’ll understand him better.

FRIDAY

You haven’t given in to him yet but that wasn’t the point anymore. The point for Jungkook was to show you how serious he was about you, so after work when he dropped you off in the cold rain in front of your house, he waited for you to head in like usual.

Usually, he drove home after making sure you got in safely but tonight he couldn’t seem to do that. He sat in his car trying to look at your door through the pouring rain and he just wanted to see you again. He just had seven hours with you but the store was so busy that he didn’t even have time to talk to you. You locked yourself up in Taehyung’s broadcasting room and only came out when the store was too packed for Jungkook to manage on his own.

He debated texting you and asking you to come down and see if you can talk but the debate didn’t last long before he was throwing the idea out of the window. Before he knew it he was turning his car off and running in the rain to your door, searching your last name on the list of tenants and buzzing the number to find you. It was for number seven and he was beginning to think that had a meaning.

Seven days of just you and him at work.

Seven hours working together.

And now your buzzer was number seven too.

It was becoming his favorite number.

“Hello?”

“Y/n, it’s me Jungkook,” he checked the time on his phone, heart skipping a beat, 11:57pm, “I know it’s late and you’ll probably say no but can we talk?”

You were genuinely taken back to know he was down there. He could’ve called you on his phone from his car but instead he was using the buzzer to ring your apartment door, to talk to you. You can even hear the rain in the background and you were saying, “Um okay, I’ll let you in, I’m on the third floor, number 77.”

Seven seven.

The second the door made a clicking sound as it unlocked he was swinging it up and running inside. Just as he reached the staircase, he slipped on the bottom steps, tightly holding the railing as he looked at the track of water he left. Once he caught his balance he was running up the stairs again, only slipping a couple more times before he got to your door.

“Jesus Christ, you’re soaked,” you said once you opened the door and let him in. You looked at him from head to toe, “Wait right here, I’ll get you a towel, take your shoes off.”

Jungkook nodded but he couldn’t help but fidget excitedly as he looked around. Your apartment was an extension of you through and through.

Vinyls in the corner by a record player and books.

Plants by the window, some dying and some thriving.

It was organized minus a few things that seemed out of place and it all just looked so homey.

When you came back he was too focused on the pictures hanging on the wall to notice you until you thrusted a pile of clothes in his waiting arms. You pointed down the hall, “Bathroom to your left, here’s some dry clothes, when you’re done bring your wet clothes out and I’ll toss them into the dryer.”

Jungkook nodded his head and followed orders. Your bathroom smelled like lavender and he eyed all your perfumes trying to pinpoint which scent you used the most. You always smelled so good and he can see why. He quickly got changed into an oversized t-shirt with Lana Del Rey’s face on it and a pair of sweats. The shirt seemed to be yours but he’s not sure about the pants. It didn’t matter to him, they smelled like you and like a creep he was taking in a whiff of your laundry detergent immediately remembering the scent. There was always a faint smell of it on you and it was refreshing and warm.

“Are you smelling my shirt?” You asked standing outside the bathroom. He got caught.

“Uh, yeah?” Jungkook scratched the back of his head, wet curls dropping water onto the shoulders of his shirt, “Sorry, that’s weird.”

You just rolled your eyes and asked him to follow you to where the washer and dryer were hidden behind a closet door. He set his clothes in the dryer and you started it up before walking to the kitchen.

“What were you thinking? You know it’s typhoon season and if you wanted to talk so bad why didn’t you just call in your car, or better yet talk at work?” You asked, pouring hot water into a mug and grabbing a tea bag, “Sugar?”

Even as you scolded him, you worried and he felt his cheeks heat up. You sighed, “What did you need to talk about that you felt the need to stand out in the cold rain and wait for me to answer? What if I was showering or already in bed?”

“I guess I would’ve waited,” Jungkook mumbled a thanks when you handed him the cup of tea and he took a seat on your couch. You just sighed and sat next to him, “What did you want to talk about?”

He refused to look at you and when you asked again, he answered, “Nothing in particular, I just wanted to talk.”

You looked away, “We talked at work.”

“Not enough!” Jungkook finally said looking back at you with doe eyes, “We were so busy and you didn’t really talk to me so I just… I don’t know.”

“Jungkook, it’s late,” you said calmly, “What did you really want to talk about?”

“Why is it so hard for you to believe I just genuinely want to talk to you? It doesn’t have to be about anything specific, I just wanted to see you. I know it’s late and not even I know why I got out and called for you but I couldn’t stop myself,” Jungkook said honestly, “You probably think I can’t get the hint and you’re right.”

You actually laughed at the last part he said and he went on, “I know you’re not into me but I can’t stop myself from wanting to see you and talk to you every chance I have.”

You slumped back on the couch as Jungkook hissed at the way the tea burned his tongue and you immediately jumped up, “It’s hot, you himbo.”

The name just slipped out and you went to apologize but Jungkook just looked at you with starry eyes, “You’ve never called me by a nickname other than the other day when you called me a slutty gym rat. Please keep them coming.”

You looked at him in disbelief as he looked the complete opposite of offended that it made you laugh and with a defeated sigh you asked, “What do you want to talk about?”

“Did you listen to the mixtape yet?” Jungkook asked, “Did you even see it?”

You thought about it for a moment and went to look for your bag. You pulled out the CD with the words, ‘THESE REMINDED ME OF YOU’ scribbled in red sharpie on the front. You’ve never been given a mixtape witn songs dedicated to you and when you first saw it you didn’t know what to make of it so you ended up just shoving it back in your back.

“I haven’t had a chance to listen.”

SATURDAY

Like yesterday, Saturday was just as busy. You barely got to talk but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t steal glances at each other and every time he caught you already looking at him, he would smile and wave even if you were on the loft and he was on the floor.

You still haven’t hinted at possibly wanting to go out with him but he also hasn’t asked. He’s waiting till at least Monday to do so. He’s giving it the week before he pushes for it again. He thinks it’s starting to work, you’re beginning to open up to him. Last night you showed him your collarbone more clearly and you asked him more about his tattoos too. You talked about music and movies and by the time you ran out of things to talk about it was past 3:00am and he left.

Even if he couldn’t stand around and talk to you, he would still try to make you laugh. When you would be fixing CDs, he would be in the next aisle hiding behind them until you pulled them out and found him there.

If you were at the register he was right there next to you bumping his shoulder against yours.

At close he texted you right after dropping you off home. It was the most dumbest things too but he was just giddy talking to you.

jungkook: would u rather be rich and depressed or poor and happy

you: rich and depressed obviously

jungkook: same. would u rather get eaten by a shark or by a cheetah

you: don’t want to get eaten by either :/

you: by a shark. I would probs drown before I’m fully eaten

you: also less chance of survival against a shark in water

jungkook: so u could outrun a cheetah?

you: no, I’ve got lung problems. I’m not surging in other way

jungkook: I could probably outrun a cheetah

you: alright, pack it up turbo. no u can’t.

jungkook: yeah… i cant…

you: It’s late ykno

jungkook: yeahhhhh but one more question

you: what

jungkook: have u changed ur mind about me yet?

He immediately regretted asking and not even a minute later he texted back.

jungkook: u dont have to answer that

SUNDAY

You were beginning to think you were as bad as Jungkook. Not meaning Jungkook was a bad person but because you were realizing that you might be leading him on the way he leads other girls on. This past week you’ve really gotten a chance to see how sweet he is and you did like it.

You liked that though he looked big and scary he was actually genuine and kind. He had a good personality and he never seemed to poke fun at anyone. He was clumsy and a bit slow at times but it was cute. He still annoyed you on occasion but it wasn’t as insufferable as before. It was endearing and last night when he asked if you changed your mind about him yet, you were so close to saying yes. You had changed your mind about him but you were still scared to admit that.

What if Jungkook was one of those people who preferred the chase over the conquest? What if once he realized you kind of liked him too… he would lose all interest. People are like that, you used to be like that and look where that got you.

You lost any motivation to get to know someone after all your failed relationships and in the end you only went after guys who didn’t want you because you knew they wouldn’t ask for anything serious. By the time you found out that they liked you, you would cringe and stop talking to them.

What if Jungkook is like that too?

You finally listened to his mixtape and it was very clear he thought long and hard about which songs he would burn onto the CD and that’s what had you antsy. Was he really serious?

You didn’t mean to avoid him today but it just happened and Jungkook noticed it the second he clocked in and you refused to look at him. Throughout the shift he would try and talk to you and something would suddenly come up or you would be in the back room pretending to be busy all so he wouldn’t talk to you. You confused the yell out of him and after three weeks of it and one week of getting to know you, he was fine.

He was done with your avoidance and by closing time he made it very known.

“So what’s up with you ignoring me today?” Jungkook asked as he finished counting the money in the register for close.

You didn’t respond right away as you fixed a stack of cassettes before finally saying, “What are you talking about?”

Jungkook couldn’t help but scoff as he took the cash register out so he could put it back in the safe, “You know what I’m talking about. You didn’t talk talk to me at all today.”

“We were working.”

“So? Suddenly that means you can’t even say hi to me when you clock in?” Jungkook asked and you wanted to answer but you didn’t know what to say. Instead you just watched him head to the back room to put the registers in the safe and return with a more sullen expression. You went back to fixing items in the shelves in order to not look at him. You didn’t know what you wanted right now, he did grow on you but that’s the problem.

You got to know him a lot this week but it’s only been seven days. Sure, seven consecutive days where it’s just been you two majority of the time but you still don’t know him all that well. You don’t know what he’s looking to gain with you and you know that’s really just you projecting your own insecurities and fears to think he just wants to use you but you can’t help it. Your brain isn’t wired to always think on the positive side anymore.

Jungkook kept looking over at you but he couldn’t take it anymore. You don’t owe him an explanation for not being attracted to him but he would like to know why you didn’t like him from the get go. It’s like you had made up your mind before even getting to know him and every single time after the first, you were more closed off from before. Of course he always noticed it but it didn’t start to really drive him crazy until these last seven days. You had begun to open up to him, smile at him more, share stories yet at the same time there were still moments where you seemed like you couldn’t stand him.

He was done with you ignoring him and he walked right up to you as you put a CD away in a high shelf, “Y/n, talk to me, stop ignoring me.”

You turned to face him, caught off guard at how close he’s gotten making you unintentionally took a step back but he took one forward not giving you any chance to focus on anything but him. You chuckled nervously, “Why?”

He looked very visibly upset by you but you just couldn’t stop, “Listen, I just don’t know what you want. Don’t get me wrong, I know you're interested in me or at least you act like you are but if you’re just doing this because you’re bored or—“

Your word caught in your throat as Jungkook’s hands cupped your jaw suddenly. He looked down at your lips, unsure why he moved so quickly but he couldn’t help himself. How could you think he’s just doing all this because he’s bored?

Jungkook licked his lips as he stared down at yours, “I’m crazy about you, not bored.”

You didn’t say anything, and when he began to lean down you couldn’t move. The shelf was pressed against your back and his hands were cupping your face that when he finally kissed you, you were stuck. It was short and sweet but you couldn’t kiss back, too caught off guard and it wasn’t in a bad way, you just couldn’t react right away when he pulled back nervously, “Sorry, I—I shouldn’t have done that.”

Jungkook waited for you to say something and once again he was met with silence. He was at the point of giving up and left you in between aisles to hide from the embarrassment. Maybe he pushed too far, you rejected him over and over again and he still had the nerve to kiss you. He ran his fingers through his shaggy hair, returning to the counter so he could start getting his things to leave.

He tried everything he could and he was exhausted.

“Jungkook?”

You came up to him shyly and he was struggling to not look at you. He was a bit nervous to know what you had to say. What was wrong with him? He’s always had a crazy amount of confidence and he’s never struggled this much to get a girl he likes but why can't you just think about him once? He felt ridiculous to be this hung up on someone who doesn’t want him.

When you finally stood in front of him, he couldn’t help but look down at you, a little scared that you would slap him or something. Before he could utter an apology, your hand was around his neck pulling him down into a real kiss.

It took him a second to understand what was going on but once he did, he completely melted into you, holding your chin in his hand to keep your head angled up to kiss better and another hand go down to your waist. You didn’t back away when he deepened the kiss with his tongue against yours. Your fingers played with the end of his hairs trying to reach him better but it was hard. Jungkook knew this too so he held you by the waist, backing you up toward the lower end of the high counter until it touched your back and picked you up with ease to set you down on it.

You moved your legs apart to allow him to step between them and kissed him eagerly. Jungkook couldn’t hold himself back, lips swelling as he kissed you with such fever that the room felt hot even with all the lights off minus a few dim ones. The record store was completely empty and a shelf of comics was in front of the door so it felt like a maze of art hiding you from anyone’s view. That made it all so much more exciting to know it was just you two.

Jungkook pulled back for a second and smiled when you followed after him, not wanting to break away from the kiss much to both of your surprise. He smiled cheekily, beginning to pull down the zipper of his gray sweater, “Sorry, I’m ho—I mean, it’s hot in here.”

He threw the light gray cloth somewhere to the side and immediately pulled you flush against him for another kiss. The two of you made out like that for a while, not even thinking about the fact that you were still at work.

Your hands can’t get enough of him, they run along his exposed arms and over the thin fabric of his white ribbed cotton tank top that showed off all his muscles and tattoos. You had tried so hard not to acknowledge how unbelievably attractive he was since the beginning but it was the most difficult thing you’ve ever done.

Jungkook’s hands tangled in your hair, trailing down the back of your top, middle finger softly caressing the line of your spine at your neck and further down as far as your shirt would let him, kissing you deeply.

You couldn’t help yourself from pulling on the back of his shirt until he got the hint and yanked it off, your eyes immediately traveling down his naked torso. His tattoos went down his side too and didn’t stop until his deep v-line and his stomach was taught with muscles. The compression shirt the other day didn’t do the real thing any justice and that’s that he looked so hot that day you almost folded. Why were you holding yourself back from this again?

Jungkook was unaware of your train of thought, the only thing on his mind was how to get your top off and with your help he was able to raise the shirt off and finally get a better look at you. Just under your bra was another spot of ink in the shape of a flower and vine on your ribcage. He ran his thumb over it softly as he looked up at you, lip rings caught between his teeth and you just smiled, “Birth flower.”

Now he knows why you liked his flower so much and with a breathy smile, he kissed you again, hands caressing the line of your spine once more, imagining what the tattoo on your back was and low fat down it went. He hugged you to him making you scoot to the edge of the counter and before you knew it, he was lifting your hips with ease to pull off your pants. You squealed in surprise when your hips hovered up for a moment as he got them off, never once breaking away from your lips.

Jungkook places a hand on your chest, fingers toying just under your bra, tempted to just push it up and out of his way but he worried he might be moving too fast. You didn’t hesitate in reaching behind your back to uncoil your bra and let it slide off. You never realized how deprived you were of sexual intimacy until you were here and too impatient for Jungkook to move things along. He pulls away from the kiss, running his tongue down your lower lip, trailing it along your jaw, down to your ear, and then to your neck where he sucks a bruise into the skin at the base of your ear, hands finding your breasts and feeling the weight of them.

You tugged at his jeans and Jungkook attempted to pull them down without breaking away from kissing you and to help him out, you unzipped his jeans and helped get them down his hips where he kicked them off without a care and chased after your mouth.

Now that Jungkook understood that you were just as eager as he was, he couldn’t hold himself back. He pulled you to the very edge of the counter till it seemed like you could fall off, and kissed down between your boobs to your stomach, a small ball of metal pressing against his lips when he reached your belly button. Your hand made its way into his hair, moving out of the way as he looked up to you, moving lower and lower between your legs, “Found another.”

You were reminded once more of your past conversation about tattoos and body piercings. Jungkook couldn’t but smirk at the way your gaze darkened when he punched the thin fabric of your underwear between his fingers and began to slide them off. Your lips parted in surprise, hand slipping out of his hair only for him to nuzzle his head close again until you brushed it out of his face. Jungkook came face to face with your wet heat, a smile on his face as he said, “Did I make you this wet? We haven’t even done anything.”

It was still all strange to you. Out of all the girls, he put himself through your hot and cold attitude because he wanted you. He chose you and now here you were letting him make you feel good yet being just as obnoxious as usual.

You rolled your eyes, already feeling that tinge of annoyance you used to always have with him, “Shut up.” You didn’t mean it in your usual pissed off way, but more so you didn’t want to prove him right. You could’ve been doing this all along.

Your words end in a moan when his tongue first teases a lick across your clit, his eyes were on your face as he watched you closely, repeating the motion again and again as your breasts rose and fell. Jungkook wraps his hands around your thighs, shifting them onto his shoulders and tightening his grip on them when you try to move away from the intensity of it. Your hand accidentally pulled on his hair making his whole head move with the motion yet his mouth never once moved away. His tongue lapped hungrily at your slit as he stimulated your labia with the sides. His nose bumped against your clit every now and then and when you yanked on his hair it made his eyes roll just slightly.

Jungkook has come to the conclusion that he could eat you out all night and he plans on doing that soon but right now his back is starting to hurt from being hunched over your pussy and he couldn’t take it. He pulled away with a small line of slick connecting his lips to your heart but neither of you seemed to care when his mouth was on yours.

You could feel Jungkook’s covered bulge hit against your sensitive wet cunt and he felt hard. His dick made a pretty outline in his Calvin Klein’s and you stuck a hand between your hot, naked bodies and tried sliding his boxers down.

A soft groan left Jungkook’s left at the first feel of your hand touching his hard cock. He still had a hand between your legs, middle finger teasing your entrance that when your palm rubbed against the tip of his member, he pressed it deeper until he felt the warmth of your pussy on the fingertip.

You released a soft moan as he pulled his middle finger out before thrusting it back in teasingly, he looked sleepy but you knew it was all lust in his gaze. You were no longer kissing and his eyes were on yours, his lips were parted with shaky breath when you fisted his length and began to stroke him up and down. His one finger became too when your thumb rubbed across his leaking slit before spreading the precum all of his head and gliding your hands back down to his base, repeating the motion over and over again.

Jungkook hissed in pleasure when you massaged his bells before jerking him off a bit more roughly than before, his two fingers sped up their thrusts while letting his palm rub against your clit, “We could’ve been doing this so much sooner.”

You didn’t say anything as you let his hips buck into your closed fist fucking his cock into your hand, making your legs shake with how good his fingers felt, “I’m close.”

“Mm,” Jungkook hummed pressing his forehead against yours, “I need to feel you, baby, please can I fuck you yet?”

You looked away from his eyes first and without a word guided his raw dick to your entrance and moaned when he pushed in slowly. You’re both very aware that you weren’t using a condom but in your haste to have him inside you, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“F-Fuck” You both moan when he pressed his pelvis against your spread thighs, his cock all the way in letting you adjust to the sudden stretch before moving. You swung your legs around his waist, pulling him a little closer when his hand snuck behind your waist and pulled you into him. With your arms around his neck, clinging to him, he was able to bring his other hand down to your hips and hold you in place as he began to fuck you slowly. Jungkook watches your face contort with the pleasure of having him inside you and it makes his chest swell with warmth. You looked so fucking pretty releasing quiet moans with each thrust of his cock into your tight pussy, “You’re so damn pretty, Y/n.”

You tug at his hair fucking your hips back onto his thick length, “I know.”

Your response caught him off guard and he couldn’t help but smile when you did. He leaned forward to kiss you but just before his lips could meet yours, you pulled on his hair a little harder now, hand sliding around his neck and you felt the way his cock seemed to throb inside you when he groaned in pleasure. Your hand tightened at just the right pressure points on his neck slightly, dragging him into a hungry kiss that nearly had him falling onto the counter over you.

“You’re prettier,” you finally said between kisses and you felt his fingers pinch your sides, cock angled up enough to hit that soft spot that always made your legs tremble. You felt your orgasm close and you just wanted him to get rougher, “But I need you to fuck me harder.”

“Oh fuck,” Jungkook kissed you passionately as he did as told, so unbelievably turned on by that he could only thrust his big cock into your tight little pussy like his life depended on it. He was so close but you wanted him to fuck you harder and who was he to deny the girl he’s been obsessing over the pleasure of dreaming all over his cock?

A loud moan left your lips, completely surprising you by the volume of it but your butt still stunted from the way Jungkook just spanked you, fingers digging into the soft flesh and rutting his cock just that further in, “I’m so close, Y/n:”

Your nails drag across the skin on his back, kissing along his pretty neck almost falling back again when his back arched down to fuck you, you moaned out his name, “Jungkook, oh my god, I can’t.”

Jungkook held you tighter, raising his hand and bringing it down on your ass cheek once more, “Cum for me, baby, please, fuck.”

You nodded your head, eyes squeezed shut as you finally released all the tension in your body and came around his thick length.

Jungkook released a loud groan as your pussy tightened around him, using all his strength to keep from cumming inside you. You cling to him cutely as you came down from your high and he had to pull out. He hid his face in your neck as he let go, cumming untouched all over your stomach and his but you only hummed in pleasure at the sudden feeling.

It took you both a minute to relax, cool down and think about what you just did.

You shyly looked at each other. Jungkook bit his bottom lip nervously, “Thank god there’s no cameras.”

You actually laughed, wincing a little as he helped you off the counter. He smiled, straightening out his clothes as he got dressed, “What do you say about coming back to my place? I—Is that okay, I mean? Or was this, um… um…”

“Sure, but I’m going to need something more comfortable to wear,” you said softly and he looked over at you as you held up your ruined top. He didn’t realize he ripped it when he pulled it off. His cheeks flushed red in embarrassment as he hurried to get his sweater and hand it to you, “I’ll buy you a new one.”

You zipped up his light gray jacket that fit you oversized like it did on him and covered up to your mid thigh. Jungkook couldn’t help but smile at how cute you looked, putting your pants back on.

“So we both have tomorrow off,” you said trying to clean up the mess the two of you left like you didn’t just have the best sex you’ve had in a long time — and at work no less.

Jungkook nodded. Taehyung returned today so he’ll be opening tomorrow with Hoseok and Namjoon will close with Sungha when he got back. The two of you had the day off as a thanks for covering and on Tuesday Hobi and Sungha will have off.

“There’s this new place that opened up and I really want to try, tomorrows our first day off in a while so—“

“Yes,” Jungkook cut you off before you could even ask him your question, “Obviously. Are you asking me to go with you? Well, even if you’re not, I’m going. I’m not letting you leave my bed if you don’t take me. Like a date, right? Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Well I was trying to,” you laughed as the two of you finally gathered all your things before locking up the store hoping they wouldn’t notice anything off tomorrow morning.

“Fuck, okay, ask again, please? I need to hear you say it,” Jungkook begged and he looked like a huge bunny with doe eyes.

“Whatever, do you wanna go with—“

“Yes!”

“Jungkook! Are you going to let me finish or what?” You asked with a cute roll of your eyes, following him to his car.

“Okay! Okay,” Jungkook laughed, “Try it one more time.”

You laughed and indulged him, “Will you go o—“

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Yessssssss!”

“You’re so annoying but it’s cute.”

“Oh my god, stop,” Jungkook clutched a hand to his heart as the one held onto yours, walking backwards to the car so he wouldn’t miss a second of you, “You’ve never called me cute before.”

OC MIXTAPE TO JK

FIRST NIGHT DRABBLE

DATE DRABBLE

A LITTLE THING CALLED JEALOUSY DRABBLE

JUNGKOOK’S SICK DAY DRABBLE

::.

y’all am I late for the swarm of seven fics? ik most were more smut and I loved every single one but I’m not cut out for so many smut scenes 😭 I’m a one and done but hope everyone loves this version of seven’s Jungkook, the himbo coworker ⭐️

also I included a little video of the songs jk would have on mixtape lol just for funnies. if you want to see more that he would dedicate to y/n, comment in my inbox with #ask SEVEN! JK or if you have any questions

oc is the world’s strongest soldier

permanent taglist: @notmyfaultbutours @rerefundslocals @fandems @sugaluvmyg @guvgguk @kimyishin @libra04 @kooromiwrld @classycreationcupcake-blog @cherrymonlightt @nikkiordonez12 2 @asking4-sanity @thvlover7 @saweetspoiled @shaybts-blog @babycandy111 @tearyjjeon @jeonninja @yellowcupid08 @02010802faves @knudsenheggedel @skzthinker @unnatae @aurorthi @beautywine @95ene @taekookstata @lilliankoo @shescharlie @annenakamura @lesoleile @burnahtsw @babybella337 @kooloveys @ku-ku @chaelvrx @minnie-mouser22 @Imeneghd @whoa-jo @evajeonsworld @marvelbun @sunnikthv @kochycooky @heyhowyoudoin3 @acielelyseen @giselleswifeee @jeonjk25 @ilikeitlikethatt @bangmechanpls @lvr2seok @badbyeyoongi @jaerisdiction @watermelonjuice15 @artmsmaid @xyahrinx @angeleen777 @jooniesxbby @brillantdarling

#jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook drabble #jungkook au #Jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook angst #jungkook request #jungkook oneshot #jungkook one shot #seven days to love

[thatgoblin]

141 Men Losing Their Partner

Summary: Dead Dove Don't Eat.

WARNING: GRAPHIC CONTENT PERTAINING TO PREGNANCY, DROWNING, CAR ACCIDENT, MURDER, NO HAPPY ENDINGS.

Price

It had been a normal day for John, texting you at lunch to see what you wanted for dinner. It was Friday, which meant that it would be a lazy weekend after a grueling month of missions followed by an equally grueling week of training with cadets. Nothing seemed out of place as he pulled up to the house he shared with you, a small townhouse that was perfect for the time being, but with talk of a baby, you would need more room soon. 

“Love, I’m home,” John called, holding plastic bags full of Chinese cartons holding low mein and sweet and sour pork. “Love?” There was no answer. The inside was eerily quiet and John knew that quiet meant bad things. In the field, it meant that people were on the move and hiding it, but at home it meant you were either gone or hurt. After being told you would be home and waiting, he was on high alert. 

Guns weren’t a common item, but with his position he had one stashed. Stalking through the house, handgun held out as he cleared rooms, he was moving on instinct. Years of training from doing this through blown up buildings and searching for the bad guys was the only thing keeping him from running through the place and screaming your name. 

When he got to the kitchen, he spun around the corner with the gun raised, slipping on something slick and wet. Catching himself on the counter, his breath left him. 

There was so much blood. More than he had ever seen before, not even when he interrogated or was locked up in a Russian prison or even the fucking battlefield. Nothing compared the scene before him. 

John shook as he set his gun down, starting to hyperventilate as he locked eyes with your lifeless body. You were on the floor, your throat slit and body stabbed to the point that it looked like someone put ground beef on you. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t. You were the safe place he had from the world. Everything about you had been his soft landing place. He had worked so hard to keep you separated from his job and it was all for nothing. 

Going to his knees, he crawled to you. John’s hands trembled as they touched your face in disbelief. He was unable to take a proper breath, the smell of your blood stinging his senses as he pulled you to him, pressing his face to yours. There was no conscious movement as he began to rock and weep softly. Holding you tight, he stayed there till Laswell showed up. She had been invited over with her wife for a double date. Kate tried to pull him away as her wife called the police, but it triggered him to start screaming. Even when the police showed up, it took an ambo arriving to sedate him for him to let go of you. 

“Be careful with her,” he sobbed as the medics put you on a gurney. “She’s allergic to penicillin. She gets hives. Please, she needs-she needs-”

Kate held him as he broke, going silent. “We were going to have a baby,” he whispered, tears soaking his beard. “We wanted to get a new house and have a baby. We wanted. . . What am I going to do?”

Gaz

You had been on a date with Kyle, a fun outing that was desperately needed after being separated for months. You went to dinner at this greasy burger place then went to an arcade that had a giant purple dragon he swore he would get you. After five tries and lots of swearing, he finally did it. “My hero,” you cooed, holding your prize as you leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Ready to head home? I don’t think this guy is meant to be carried around for long.”

“I am if you are,” Kyle said with a grin, giving you a wink. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he pulled you along to get to the street. He held his hand up to hail a cab, holding you close as you pressed against his body. It had been too long since you had last held him and with having him home for a few weeks, you were refusing to let him go any time soon. 

“Can’t get a bloody cab for shit,” he huffed. You were about to tell him you could call for one when you heard tire screeching. There was no time to react to the car hitting the curb then the pair of you. It was milliseconds and even if either of you had been looking at it, there was no escaping it. 

The car had been speeding when it barrelled over you two. Kyle flew over the hood and slammed into the windshield as you were dragged under the tires. Screams from everyone filled the air as the car stopped for just a moment before swerving off to leave you.

“Ky-Kyle,” you wheezed, laying on the ground. Your middle had been crushed and you couldn’t feel anything below your chest. It hurt to breathe, making you choke and gasp as Kyle forced himself to drag himself to you.

“Doll,” he groaned, his leg at a bad angle and his head bleeding profusely. “Don’t move. Stay with me.”

“Kyle,” you choked out. “Cold.”

“No, please,” he whimpered, collapsing next to you as people gathered to try and help keep you still as others called the ambulance. “Darling, don’t. Please.”

“Love,” you whispered as he took your limp hand. “You.”

“Help is coming, please, just hold on,” he begged as you stayed still and quiet. “Darlin’? Baby? No, no, no, no.” The ambulance didn’t arrive for nearly an hour. Price showed up well before them. He made Kyle stay still as he kept calling for you, holding your hand. Someone had draped their jacket over your top and another person laid their’s over your middle, hoping to give you some decency as Kyle demanded that Price help you. Even when he was in danger of snapping his spine, paralyzing himself for life, he still made you the priority. 

“Gaz,” Price said softly. “She’s gone. I’m sorry, lad.” 

“No, please. She’s just-just quiet,” Kyle sobbed, his physical pain not even compared to what he was feeling when he was made to let go of you for good.

Soap

It had started out as a weekend trip to blow off some steam. You and Johnny had gone to a resort in a warm climate with crystal clear water and amazing food. There was plenty of mixed, frozen drink and tanning lotion for the pair of you to get some nice warm color back into their almost sickly complexions. 

Johnny made sure to get plenty of pictures of you in your bathing suit, specifically your ass. You  gave him shit, but he just laughed and took more. Included in your stay was a boat tour of a cave. It wasn’t the rainy season so it was safe. No sudden surges or unexpected storms. Johnny said he’d been in more dangerous pools in the UK, making you relax and trust that things would be fine. 

You weren’t the strongest swimmer, but you were good enough to get by. Add in a life jacket and Johnny next to you, you felt safe. Untouchable really. What took you by surprise was the rumble of thunder as you got halfway into the tour. 

“Don’t worry, it will miss us,” the guide said, easing any worries that would pop up. Holding Johnny’s hand, you were about to make a comment about the glowing algae when you heard a clicking pop. Turning to him, you were left speechless. 

“You know I’m not good with words, but I think this speaks for itself,” he said, holding up a rose gold ring with a set of yellow diamond leaves. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you said softly. “Yes! I would hug you aggressively, but I don’t want to lose the ring and tip the boat!” You cried with a shrieking laugh. Sliding the ring onto your finger, he pulled you close for a kiss as flashes from the phone the tour guide held reminded you that you weren’t alone. 

“I got everything recorded, Mr. Johnny,” he said with a grin, handing Johnny’s phone back to him. 

“Thanks, Mate,” Johnny said with a grin, keeping you close. As the guide turned the boat around, thunder rumbled again, much louder that time. “We’re still good, right?” He asked.

“Yeah, we’re heading back now, no worries,” the guide said as he navigated the slowly raising waters. You held onto Johnny as the thunder got louder and you could see the lightening was able to be seen from the front of the cave. 

Another rumble lasted longer, making you look around at the water. The rumbled quickly turned into a rushing sound, getting louder in seconds as a monstrous wave slammed into the cave, sending all the water rushing back. The rush slammed into the boat, making the bow lift high. With the guid on the back of the boat and you and Johnny in the middle, the weight distribution didn’t save you from being tossed into the water as the boat capsized. 

You screamed, grabbing for Johnny as you were pulled under. There was no preparation to stay under too long, your lungs burning as you blindly clawed at the bottom of the cave to find the side or top. Bursting through the surface with a choking gasp, you didn’t have time to get another breath before you were pulled back under by the rip that had been made by the current. Not even with the life jacket were you able to break through the water. 

Johnny was able to grab the guide and get him to higher ground in the cave. Dragging him onto rocks, he began to scream your name. Where had you gone!? You were right there! “Where are you!” He screamed, ready to jump back in.

“No, you will drown! It’s not safe until after the storm!” The guide cried as he grabbed Johnny’s arm. 

“My partner is in there!” Johnny snarled, but the guide fought with him, keeping him where it was safe while you were left on your own. As the flash storm rolled on, just a few minutes after it showed up, your life jacket floated out from the back of the cave. It didn’t mean anything, you could still be alive. Despite the water calming, the guide made them stay on the rocks till a rescue boat came in, shining a light on them. “There’s someone still in here!” He yelled as the men climbed into the boat. 

“We know, we have her outside,” the rescue worker said, helping them sit before turning the boat around.

“She’s okay?” Johnny asked, surprised as he never saw you since you fell from the boat. The man was quiet, not looking at him. “Is she okay?” He pushed. “Can you fuckin’ tell me if she’s alive or not!?” He snarled. All he received was silence. When the boat came out and he saw a white sheet laid over a body on the beach, he jumped from the rescue boat before it could stop. Running over, he was screaming your name as the police were taping off the beach. One of the officers tried to stop him, but he easily shoved them aside as he kept screaming. 

You were still and silent as he picked you up, refusing to let anyone near you as he wailed in grief. Holding you, he rocked the two of you as the police tried to control the growing crowd. There was nothing they could do to help him, as news crews began to swarm the beach to get pictures of the grief stricken man holding his fiancee’s body as her hand with the engagement ring dangled free for them to take pictures of and plaster on the front pages.

Ghost

 You were just a month and a half shy of being full term. When Simon had been called to do a mission, you were pissed and ready to fight Price, but Simon calmed you down before you could come at the bearded man with a cricket bat. It wouldn’t be that long and he’d be back with plenty of time for the baby to be born. 

It had only been two days when you felt contractions start. At first you thought it was Braxton Hicks contractions, but then you felt your water break. When you went to the bathroom to check, you found that it wasn’t your water. It was blood and it was soaking your underwear and pants. Calling an ambulance, you unlocked the front door so they could get in. Once you were sure they were on their way, you called Simon’s emergency line. It wouldn’t go to him directly, but he would know what was happening right away at least. Leaving your message, the ambulance arrived soon after.

Crying, you held your stomach as you were strapped to a gurney and rushed to the hospital. You weren’t being told anything, just to keep breathing as the pain grew. With your phone in your hand, you kept checking it to see if Simon was able to call, but there was nothing. At the hospital, you were rushed into surgery as you begged one of the nurses to call the emergency line again to see when Simon could call. She promised she would keep trying as you handed off your phone. Once in surgery, you were put under and the last thing you thought was a plea to any deity listening to save your baby. 

Simon got the message and was gone. He didn’t ask permission or explain. His whole team was with him, though, getting him back home as quickly as possible. It was nearly five hours later in a plane to a helicopter that took him to the hospital with some of his gear and mask still on. Jumping out of the helo before it could land fully, he ripped his mask and vest off to throw to the side as he sprinted to where you were. 

His head was empty aside from the drive to get to you. You had to be okay. You had to be. There was a nurse waiting for him at the stairs, stopping him from running blindly through the hospital. 

“Mr. Riley,” she said, not flinching under his gaze that was fire and rage. 

“Where is my wife?” He growled, towering over her. 

“You’re wife. . . I am so sorry, but she didn’t make it,” the nurse said. Simon could only hear the ringing in his ears that he would hear when he was near a concussion grenade going off. “Her uterine lining ripped and she had lost too much blood by the time she arrived at the hospital.” None of her words seemed to register to her as his team came up behind him. 

Every word was lost on him as he stood there, not responding to anything she said. Not even Price shaking him could bring him to. 

“What about the baby?” He finally asked, coming out of it enough to think of that. “Is she okay?”

“She’s stable and in the NICU. Despite being born rather early, she is healthy and will stay there till she’s considered to term to make sure she has the best chance of surviving,” the nurse said. Simon nodded, going quiet again. 

“I want to see her. I want to see my wife,” he said. The nurse nodded, knowing he would do it anyway he could. His face said it all. Taking him to the OR, she waved others on when they stopped to question why four men were being let into the room. The team held back while Simon moved forward to the white sheet covered table. With steady hands, he pulled the cover back to see your face. You looked like you were sleeping. He would watch you before you awoke for the day and this was the same face. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, stroking your hair. His gloves were long gone, leaving him bare to the world he struggled to hide from. “I’m so sorry. I should have never left.” Leaning forward, he pressed your faces together as he quietly cried. He had lost his family, then found you and it was a breath of life to him. Now you were gone and left him with a small piece of you. He didn’t know if he could do it without you, if he could be someone his daughter needed or wanted. Simon didn’t know how to be a good partner till you came along, so how could he know how to be a good dad without you?

Masterlist

Taglist: @birdstoprey @sebbytheraccoon @pricescigar @alwaysshallow @sae1kie @sleepydang @lexi-zsy09 @ghostlywhiskey @ghosts-cyphera @poohkie90 @neothewitch @shadofireshinobi @sadslasher13 @0alk0msan @xaestheticalien

#captain john price #captain price #cod mwii #cod mw2 #captain price/reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #gaz/reader #kyle gaz x reader #soap/reader #ghost/reader #johnny MacTavish/reader #simon riley x reader

[katnissmellarkkk]

Only a couple more posts like this and then I’ll leave y’all alone but… I don’t know how to explain or articulate it properly but there is something I’ve never picked up on before that I suddenly caught when re-reading Mockingjay.

These two moments… when you compare and contrast them…

Gale’s touch and taste and heat remind me that at least my body’s still alive, and for the moment it’s a welcome feeling. I empty my mind and let the sensations run through my flesh, happy to lose myself. When Gale pulls away slightly, I move forward to close the gap, but I feel his hand under my chin. “Katniss,” he says. The instant I open my eyes, the world seems disjointed. This is not our woods or our mountains or our way. My hand automatically goes to the scar on my left temple, which I associate with confusion. “Now kiss me.” Bewildered, unblinking, I stand there while he leans in and presses his lips to mine briefly. He examines my face closely. “What’s going on in your head?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper back.

she says here she’s (somewhat passively) giving gale all that she withheld from him (when peeta, in her mind, was still a possibility) and thinks at least kissing him makes her feel somewhat alive, but even during the kiss she’s not present or focused on gale, and he catches onto that. but the portion highlighted is the important part of this scene. she is startled back into reality when gale calls her name and her awakening is the realization that this isn’t their way. she doesn’t even say “this isn’t my way” (as in, kissing isn’t something she does unless on camera for a show). and she doesn’t say “this isn’t our woods or our mountains or our home” (as in, this place is unfamiliar and strange and scary and that’s what’s disjointing her). no, she says “this isn’t our way”. because this isn’t what she does with gale. kissing gale feels alien and wrong in her heart. even with peeta out of the picture.

and then the second passage from later down the line in mockingjay:

Like the mutts. Like a rabid beast bent on ripping my throat out. And here, finally here in this place, in these circumstances, I will really have to kill him. And Snow will win. Hot, bitter hatred courses through me. Snow has won too much already today.

It’s a long shot, it’s suicide maybe, but I do the only thing I can think of. I lean in and kiss Peeta full on the mouth. His whole body starts shuddering, but I keep my lips pressed to his until I have to come up for air. My hands slide up his wrists to clasp his. “Don’t let him take you from me.”

peeta, who she claims to have given up on, is begging to be left behind. how many times has she claimed throughout this book that she wishes he was dead (either to end his suffering or to end her own)? and right here, she has just blown up the halo to mercifully kill finnick. she is so desensitized to death by this point. and she thinks she’s so desensitized to peeta. she doesn’t even want to consider he still is peeta. but here, when she has every reason to put him (and herself) out of his misery, she instead turns to kissing him. why? why would you kiss the monster who is actively fighting to not murder you with his bare hands? why would you kiss the boy you called a mutt? the one who you have already done your best to let go of? why would that even cross your mind as a last ditch effort?

because kissing peeta isn’t disjointing and it’s not something she only did for the cameras and it’s certainly not something she’s only doing passively. she’s kissing peeta to remind him who he is. to remind herself who he is to her. she’s tried so hard to stop caring for him, to sever the cord between the two of them, but in this moment she just can’t. she kisses him and says “don’t let him take you from me”.

because the act of kissing actually is their way.

#idk if I explained this right feel free to throw a better interpretation onto this besties #may delete idk if it makes sense #everlark #thg #hunger games #Katniss everdeen #mockingjay #Peeta mellark #text post ✨✍🏻🤎 #200

[starogeorgina]

Violent delights

Warnings: Swearing, character death

Pairings: Jacaerys Velaryon x oc

1.09

You push and slap at Daemon’s chest as he tries to hold you close. He says nothing as you take your anger and grief out on him. It’s not until your screams wake the children sleeping in the bedchamber next to your own that you finally snap out of the state you find yourself in. Daemon holds onto your hands as you crumble to your knees.

Lucerys was gone.

You look up at him through blurry eyes and ask, “Where’s my mother?”

“Being consoled by your grandmother and grandsire.”

Your lip begins to tremble. It didn’t seem real; Luke couldn’t be gone. Although you knew Daemon would never lie about something like this, you desperately wanted to believe it was a mistake. Lies being spread to cause the breakdown of the blacks—you didn’t want to believe Aemond had actually killed him. Your mouth is extremely dry as you ask, “What is to be done about this?”

“As of yet, nothing?”

“Nothing?” His answer enrages you. “My brother is gone. Murdered! The greens need to pay for what they have done.”

“Indeed, they will, my girl, but we need to think strategically. The one-eyed cunt will be well guarded, as will the rest of the greens, including the usurper. They will be waiting for us to attack.”

“Cat and mouse,” you mumble.

Daemon looks worried while helping you stand again. “I don’t quite understand.”

“A mouse hopes to make a break for freedom but doesn't for fear of being eaten by a cat. It’s something Alicent once told me.”

Unsure what to say, Daemon stares at you blankly, waiting for you to continue.

“They will think we are too afraid to leave Dragonstone. I’d place my bets on them coming here to surround us, then attacking.”

You straighten the crinkled material of your dress, and you think of all the times you watched Alicent do it. Whenever Aegon did something that could embarrass her, she would try her best to keep up appearances. Your mind goes to all the ways the greens could twist Aemond into being a kinslayer, but there is none. He will be damned by the gods for the remainder of his days, but now that the first death has happened, there is nothing preventing a full-blown war.

Daemon recognises the look on your face. “Lyarra, what is it?”

“They aren’t afraid of us.”

Even after Aegon usurped your own mother, you didn’t want to believe a war of such violence was going to happen between House Targaryen.

“Two wars are going to happen. The one for your mother's throne, and another for your granddaughter.”

—

You stand in front of a small part of the black council. Your mother had been weeping in her bedchamber for hours; she was inconsolable. Daemon was busy putting things in place for part of his plan to protect his family, which required him to leave Dragonstone, and with Jacaerys in Winterfell, it fell upon you to try and hold the fort. A burden you wished not to bear.

“Where are the queen and prince, Consort?” Your grandsire asks.

“Prince Daemon is currently attending to other matters, and her grace is still suffering from her recent losses,” your grandmother answers. “With Prince Jacaerys securing the support of the north, the burden of war falls upon our granddaughter.”

You gulp down. Ser Erryk, Baela, Rhaena, and your grandparents wait for you to continue. “Admittedly, I know little about war strategies, but I was married to the usurper, and I believe that might give me some insight.”

Your grandsire raises his brows. “Insight?”

“Alicent will do whatever she can to try and salvage the green’s reputation, which will be even more difficult after last night.” Whispers had reached the island, and Aegon threw a feast to celebrate his brother Aemond killing Lucerys. “I have sent a raven to OldTown addressed to Prince Daeron, expressing my concern for the safety of his sister and her children. And I’ve sent a raven to Otto Hightower, telling him the same thing.”

Rhaena steps forward and asks, “Why? The greens usurped the rightful heir to the throne—”

“As guilty as Aegon is, his children didn’t steal my mother's throne or kill my brother.” Daemon’s words of eye for eye echo in your mind, and although you wanted revenge, you disagreed. “If we do anything to harm the innocent,” you take a deep breath and push back tears, causing your voice to shake. “Lucerys was just a boy and deserved so much better, and his death shall be avenged, but if any of us do harm to Princess Helaena’s children, they will come for mine and my siblings. It will just turn into a vicious cycle until all the Targaryen children are gone.”

“And what of Princess Aemma? Otto has already made it clear that the usurper wants her back at the king's landing.”

Gritting your teeth, you say, “The Prince consort and I discussed this at length, and it’s been decided that the safest thing for my children is for us to leave. I will be traveling to Winterfell tonight to join my husband, who is still unaware of what’s happened to Lucerys. Once we are sure of our children’s safety, we will return to help fight for our mother's throne.”

“What of the queen has other children?”

“My mother wishes for my siblings to remain by her side.”

Your grandsire takes over as the conversation turns to battle strategies, and not long after, Daemon joins you by the painted table. He gives you a curt nod, letting you know that part of the plan is done.

—

Elinda Massey, your mother's most loyal lady in waiting, was a saint; she somehow managed to cut your son's hair and dye it darker with mixed herbs and crushed roots from plants that grew on the island, along with your daughter, while Clara dyed yours. Clara had offered to travel along with you and your children, which you greatly appreciated since you would have felt guilty asking.

“Oh, my girl,” your mother says teary-eyed. “I wish it never came to this. I wish you and my grandchildren didn’t need to leave.”

“This isn’t forever. I will return soon with Jacaerys by my side, and then as soon as you’re sitting upon the iron throne, your grandchildren will return.”

“I’m proud of you, my sweetling.”

Before you can reply, Ser Erryk enters the room and says, “My queen, princess. The boat leaving Dragonstone is ready.”

“Thank you, Ser Erryke; the princess will be down shortly,” your mother says.

He bows his head and leaves.

Clara, Elinda, and yourself manage to carry your sleeping children to the boat while your mother holds Aemma in her arms while holding back tears. “Soon as they are safe, I will return, and I promise we will make things right.” You kiss your mother on the cheek before taking your daughter from her. “I love you, muña.”

“Take care, my girl.”

When the boat leaves Dragonstone, you take one last look at your home, watching it disappear into the distance quickly due to the darkness of the night sky. The last conversation with your stepfather replays in your head.

“It will never work. Firstly, Jace would never allow me to go through with it, and Alicent would see right through my act.” The plan Daemon had proposed was risky, but you understood his reasoning behind it. What concerned you was keeping it a secret; you couldn’t look your mother or husband in the eye and be dishonest.

“She would believe you are a mother doing anything you could to protect your child. As for Prince Jac—”

“He’d never forgive me.”

“Rhaenyra and Jacaerys will be furious with us at first, but trust me, they will in time come to agree that this is the only way.”

Muña - Mother

#house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon x you #Jacaerys Velaryon #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #violent delights #jacaerys velaryon/you #jacaerys velaryon fanfiction #jacaerys velaryon fanfic #jace velaryon #jace velaryon x you #Jace Velaryon fanfic #Jacaerys Velaryon x oc #Jacaerys Velaryon x fem oc #Jacaerys Velaryon/oc #jace velaryon fanfiction #Jace Velaryon/oc #Jace Velaryon x oc

[iwaasfairy]

bones and all +hq! (anyone) just something super fucked up with lots of blood 💋🫀

this was so sexyyyy idk I’m very into gross icky blood stuff rn

tw murder, gore, yandere

Red coats the walls. It splatters out into grasping hands with each brutal blow, baseball bat full of nails shattering the bone below it until the whining dies down. Along with the frantic screaming, and you sink to your knees at the sight. Within seconds, your housemate has been reduced to a heap of meat and bone and sinew, leaving her coppery tang in the air. Your legs have buckled, and now you’re on the cold floor, there’s nothing you can do but watch and shake.

The blood pools under her legs, because those are intact -upper body too. But gunk and brain matter is spilled on your floor, and the puddle of red gains surface the longer you stare, trying not to hurl your guts out. If you could look away you would. If you could run, you would. A low puff of air sounds, before the invader turns on his heel and stares you down. “There she is.” It’s faint, almost apologetic in its delivery. He pulls the mask down his mouth as he wipes the back of his hand over his face.

Your hands shake uncontrollably in your lap, and the stinging in your face surges through your bones. Atsumu.

“Ya missed my entrance,” he’s got a grin on his face - but his eyes are so blown out it’s hard to believe it really is him. For a few moments, he looks entirely, sickly unfamiliar. Not long enough to give you time to collect yourself before he approaches though, dragging the bloody bat along with him. “Sorry ‘bout yer little friend. Came at me with scissors… The bitch’s almost as wild as you are when yer upset.”

He has a frown on his face when he looks back, but the slightest curl to his lips doesn’t slip. His hands come up to hold onto your shoulder as he sighs. “So,” he lets out a soft hum, and then thumbs along your cheek with his hands still stained, bloodied as he touches you, “r’ya ready ta go?” You can’t help but feel bad. Even moving your eyes up to look at him feels like it’s taking all the energy you have.

This is all your fault. Atsumu came for you. You’d signed the papers and found a friend to live with, and you had hoped that would’ve been enough - but you didn’t think… you- Nao tried to protect you, and now she’s gone. There was a time you would’ve trusted Tsumu with your life. “Y-you,” your throat locks up when you say it, and the wobbly vision gets too much, spilling over, “wh-what did you do? Why?”

The blond barely pulls up his nose, before giving you a look. “Didn’t ya hear me? I came in through the window an’ she came at me. Couldn’t be helped.” The way his hand is still around the makeshift weapon somehow doesn’t convince you of his perceived innocence. Almost as soon as you think that, he follows your gaze, and slowly starts chuckling as he realizes the same thing. “Baby doll…”

You scramble. Atsumu drops the bat to crash himself into you and grab at your arms, but one well aimed kick onto his knee has him wincing, and it gives you just enough time to get up and dash towards the door. That also means running through the pool of liquid slowly drying on the floor, but your vision’s so blurry that you don’t even register it. You slip as you slam the door behind you and Tsumu curses— your heart’s pumping so hard you don’t hear it.

Not until someone gets a fistful of your hair and yanks you back so hard you think your scalp might come clean off. Until you land in the cold gravel and a foot pushes into your soft throat. Tsumu’s able to make it out narrowly before your vision starts blurring at the edges, and you claw at the limb for air. “Samu, ya’ll hurt ‘er.” As soon as you get a tiny bit of leeway you’re grabbing at the skin and hacking up spit, painfully tight airways burning.

Osamu only glares back at the blond. “‘I got it covered, Samu. Don’t be a bore, Samu,’” he mocks, before crossing his strong arms over his chest. “Yer sloppy, ‘n lucky I was ‘ere ta stop ‘er.”

“Yea, yea,” the other man sighs, before he crouches by you and lovingly brushes your hair away from your face. “Yer cute when ya try so hard, y’know. Gets us going.” He snickers, then raises a brow. “Samu won’t admit it but it gets him goin’ too. But next time ya get caught… we’ll take one of yer fingers. That’s only fair.”

#monkey fun.event #tw.murder #tw.gore #tw.yandere #miya atsumu #🍯honey.pot #💫ch.atsumu #💫ch.osamu

[prismatic-bell]

Anti-Racism in Glass Onion: It's A Whole Thing, Part Two

Picking up from here.

We’ll pick up this part with, finally: Helen herself. The heroine of the piece. When we first meet her she has natural hair, a sort of Southern/AAVE-mix accent, and she. Is. PISSED. I think this is the most important part, frankly--the heart of the glass onion of racism deconstruction in this movie, to just pile more burden on this poor overworked metaphor (it deserves a raise, frankly). I'm 34 years old and trying to remember a single other movie I've seen in my entire life where a Black woman is not just angry but enraged, furious, livid, seething, and isn't An Angry Black Woman. Helen is raging--and so are we. Helen is fuming--and so is Blanc. Helen is as angry as it's possible for one person to be--and the narrative says she should be, that we should be, that her anger is normal and natural and any person put in her situation would feel this way. Helen is destructive—and we relish and celebrate her acts of destruction. Black anger in movies usually comes in two forms: either it's carefully modulated so a white audience can take it seriously, or it's over the top and you're meant to either laugh at it or feel threatened by it. Helen is damned near homicidal--and the narrative is firmly in her corner. Helen is a Black woman and she is angry. She is not An Angry Black Woman. And that anger is shown through multiple lenses! We see her pour out her heart to Benoit, who she (correctly) trusts not to judge her; we see it cold, calculated, carefully modulated so as to not look like An Angry Black Woman to "the disrupters;" and we finally see it completely unleashed in a literal glass-smashing fire-setting explosive rage--that ends in her destroying an icon of Western white beauty standards. That picture didn't have to be the Mona Lisa. If the point was "Klear destroyed an extremely famous painting," it could as easily have been Starry Night. Or a Picasso. The choice of Mona Lisa was deliberate--not just the most famous painting of all time, but the most famous white woman. Also worth noting here is that there’s a theory that actually isn’t entirely crackpot (unlikely but possible, in other words) that the Mona Lisa is actually a self-portrait of da Vinci. (This theory posits that he painted himself as a woman as a way to express his sexual orientation, based upon the not-100%-but-pretty-solid theory that he was gay.) Add that in, and you’ve got Helen destroying the-man-Miles-wants-to-believe-he-is (artist, inventor, philosopher, legend). It’s white hegemony all the way down.

Now that we've looked at how Miles uses Black imagery, how the Black characters use Black imagery, and at Helen (who we'll come back to), I want to go back to "the disrupters" and not just who they are, but what they did to Andi.

Duke speaks for himself. He's racist, sexist, chauvinist, repeatedly attempts blackmail, and carries a gun like he thinks it's a way to advertise his dick size. We all know who Duke is. We've seen people just like him all over YouTube. We also see him get in "Andi's" face, basically telling her she's worthless--openly stating what I said above about the mammy, that she was worth something until she wouldn't feed them their pap anymore and then she was scum. He has no problem supporting the narrative that Andi was an ignorant hanger-on and (white, male) Miles the true genius.

Whiskey says she's on Andi's side, but we quickly see her fall into stereotype--she tells "Andi" she's going to leave Duke, she says "I just left him" while crying, "Andi" says "Duke got what he deserved!" (meaning: he deserved to get dumped), and Whiskey immediately goes full-blown "holy shit homicidal crazy Black lady, she's violent she's psycho she's dangerous." Yes, I realize Whiskey is deeply emotional at the moment and thinking more about what’s just happened than a conversation she had a few hours previously, but she instantly assumes "Andi" murdered Duke and is going to kill her. She's an ally until she's not, and it doesn't take long to scratch the surface.

And then we get to Claire. She casts herself as a progressive politician in the Independent party, but we see her first perjure herself on the stand against Andi, and then do it again after Miles burns the napkin (albeit not under oath at the time). She will not actually stand up to protect the name, life, livelihood of not just one but two Black women. Oh, sure, she looks ashamed. But what good is silent guilt to Andi’s work, Andi’s legacy, Andi’s life, Andi’s justice? No good. No fucking good at all. If she’d spoken truth to power, Andi might still be alive. If she’d done the job she swore an oath to do in upholding the law of the United States, Andi might still be alive. Her silence didn’t just let Miles get away with grand larceny and character assassination; her silence killed.

Aaaand Birdie. Birdie is white-weaponized-womanhood writ large. Birdie is the victim because her phone was taken after she said something godawful. Birdie is the victim because people don't understand her blackface was a tribute. Birdie is the victim because she compared herself to Harriet Tubman and nobody understood she meant "in spirit" (or, frankly, probably what the hell she meant by "in spirit," because I see about as much similarity between Birdie and Harriet Tubman as I do between an apple and a seahorse). Birdie is the victim because nobody explained to a grownass woman that "sweatshop" means "factory built out of spit and human rights violations" instead of "place you make sweatpants." Never attribute to malice what can be adequately explained by stupidity, but to an extent there absolutely is malice in Birdie's actions. She never bothers to stop and ask why people are so damned mad at her, or why her career has taken two separate nosedives over antiblack statements. She never bothers to learn what "antiblack" means. And when confronted with the evidence Miles murdered Andi, she quickly pretends she didn't see it.

Finally, for living members, we’ve got Lionel. And he’s interesting because we see so little of him, but what we do see is Miles threatening him. Almost every time he’s got a speaking line, he’s trying to be a voice of reason, and every time, Miles shuts him down. This is part of the meta-narrative—Lionel isn’t a real person, he’s a person Rian Johnson dreamed up. Lionel could be any color. Lionel could be white, he could be Native, he could be Indian or Chinese or Slav. But he’s Black, and that’s on purpose, because he’s the only person in the movie Miles threatens onscreen. Duke gets killed, but Lionel is kept around even over strenuous objection—why? Because when Klear fails—and I think Miles knew it would fail—Miles will sail off into the sunset with the bankruptcy money and leave a Black man to take the fall.

And finally: Andi. We know, from seeing Helen at Benoit and Phillip’s, what Andi-not-glammed-up looks like. But now think of how she presents herself: straightened, dyed-blonde hair in the most I’m-not-just-a-white-woman-I’m-a-WHITE-woman haircut there is; Helen notes that Andi has schooled herself into a white-socialite “rich bitch” accent, even saying “who you fooling, girl? Not me”. Andi has lightened herself, whitened herself. And is it a surprise? She’s entered two fields that are notoriously white: STEM and business. She can’t have natural hair. It’s “unprofessional”. She can’t have a Black accent. It’s “ignorant” and “unschooled”. She can’t shed her skin to fit into a world that wants to put her “in her place,” but she certainly tried.

As an addendum to Andi—since it’s her wardrobe Helen is wearing—there’s some amazing color symbolism going on there, and I don’t mean the children’s hospital kind. When we meet “Andi,” she’s wearing a dress that’s mostly red and reminiscent of a blood splatter, with a tiny amount of brown near the hem. The rest of it is black and white, and the design of the bodice makes it such that the black and white are laying right against each other in opposition. Later that night, she’s in all white—and this is what she’s wearing when she’s shot and then comes back “bloodstained” with a red sauce Miles gave to Benoit. White hands put that “blood” on her, white hands created the opportunity for it to happen, and now there’s metaphorical blood on white—Andi’s blood, on Miles’ white hands. (There’s an additional bit of this in alive!Andi’s clothing, by the way, if you’re not convinced. When we see her in the Glass Onion bar she has straightened black hair and is wearing mostly black with just white cuffs and collar. When we see her in her office at Alpha she’s in dark gray, and in court, she’s in light gray. She dies in a pink sweater—the color of a scratch, before it turns into a bloody cut. Her wardrobe lightens as she tries to make herself better fit into the white ideal of what a businesswoman should look like...but it still ends in blood.)

Now let’s talk about Benoit Blanc.

What little we know of Benoit is that his family was probably either French or Cajun, based on how he pronounces his own name; that he’s a gay man with a husband; that he’s “the last gentleman detective” (if you watched Knives Out); that he’s apparently a bit of a comics fan; and, famously or infamously, that he’s Southern. So white Southern man in his mid-fifties—what do you assume you know of Benoit Blanc, if you don’t actually know him? I think it’s safe to say there’d be an assumption of antiblack racism. And yet—remember that pin I told you to stick in Kareem Abdul-Jabbar? We’re back there now—the first thing we see of him in Glass Onion involves him getting told off by a Black man and not only taking it with grace, but accepting that he needs to open up about his problems because of said Black man. He’s not threatened, nor does he feel the need to assert some kind of superiority or dominance—he just goes “okay, you’re right” and spills. And from there we jump immediately (timeline-wise, not movie-wise) to him listening to Helen’s story and agreeing to help her. Now this does not mean he’s some kind of perfect beneficent dude with no problems; he did something pretty shitty with the way he handled the whole “you have to go with me or it can’t be done” thing, and the narrative wants us to forgive him for it because he’s the protagonist. It serves the story, I realize that’s the point, but I do think it’s worth noting simply because if he falls victim to prejudice or stereotype at any point in the movie, it’s right here, with the idea that Helen is A Strong Black Woman—he absolutely could have used more delicacy handling this, given this woman’s twin sister was just killed. A positive stereotype is still a stereotype. 

With that said, I feel like his own momentary dip into bias is actually what gives him the idea that really helps him spring the case open—as he realizes what he assumed, he also realizes he’s walking in as a white Southern man in his fifties. He, too, can be the victim of stereotype, but in this case he decides to weaponize those biases and prejudices among Miles and “the disrupters,” explicitly telling Helen he’ll “turn up the Southern hokum.” They want to be biased rich people relying on stereotypes? Oh, he’ll show them stereotypes. They’ll think he’s an idiot because of how he talks; they’ll assume he’ll take their side over Andi’s because of his origin. And they do! They confide in him openly about what Miles did to Andi, because he’s a white Southern yokel, right? He’ll assume Andi deserved it.

Except he doesn’t, because he’s bettered himself from that. Is he perfect? No. We see he’s not perfect. But he’s putting in the effort “the disrupters” don’t or won’t. And being willing to face that legacy and reputation is how he solves the case. It’s the tool in his arsenal that makes Miles underestimate him.

And finally, let’s go back to Banksy, who you may remember I initially ignored. There are two reasons for this, and both tie into the “is the Mona Lisa real?” thing.

First, Banksy is pretty famously anonymous. A single interviewer has met him and given us a gender (male), rough age (late 20s at time of interview), and race (white), but that’s all we’ve got. Miles didn’t commission Banksy because Banksy can’t be commissioned, and the kind of work he does suggests he’d tell Miles to shove his money up his ass. On top of which, Banksy is a graffiti artist, not a glassworker.

But more importantly, we’re never told it’s actually Banksy.

Someone on the boat says “Is that a Banksy?”, but this is never confirmed. And here’s where it gets interesting and is about to tie into the Mona Lisa: it can’t be a Banksy. Because, and this is a thing you probably wouldn’t know if you never got bored enough to do a Wikipedia deep dive (thanks, ADHD!), the reason Banksy works with stencils and flat colors is that by his own admission, he’s not actually a very good artist. He’s too slow to do the kind of work he wants to do without the aid of stencils. I’m not slagging off on Banksy, here, good on him for finding a way to do what he wanted to do anyway, but the point is you have to be fast to work in glass. He gets name-dropped specifically so someone can look bougie. That’s it.

But even without knowing that extra detail about why Banksy can’t do glass sculpture, we know he doesn’t. And this makes all of Miles’ art immediately suspect, and it’s supposed to be. I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to teeter back and forth for most of the movie on whether the Mona Lisa is real. But it’s important to note the callousness Miles treats it with, because it’s an early clue as to him being the murderer. To wit, the Mona Lisa is deeply fragile. We literally can’t clean it to see what it’s supposed to look like because the way da Vinci painted it made it inherently unstable (if you want to see what a truer-to-color version would have looked like, one of da Vinci’s students painted alongside him a piece now known as the Prado Mona Lisa that we’ve been able to clean because it doesn’t have that same instability). When it travels—which is basically “when the Louvre has to put it in storage for awhile” and that’s it—there’s an insurance policy on it bigger than the GDP of some countries. It literally makes the news when it’s moved. And it doesn’t actually go anywhere! It doesn’t join traveling exhibits, it doesn’t get shuttled around for tests, if you want to do work on the Mona Lisa you go to the Mona Lisa. It does not come to you.

Knowing all of this, if for some reason the curators at the Louvre came to you and said “hey, you’re in charge of the Mona Lisa for awhile,” what would you do? Put it in a case you perpetually keep open to humidity and corrosive salt air (remember, they’re on an island), with a hidden switch inside a badly-painted figurine? Like regardless of whether you think the safety measures around the painting in real life are excessive, you’d probably show it at least a bare minimum of respect and not needlessly expose it to potential severe damage. And if you loved it the way Miles claims to love it, would you even accept charge of the painting? Or would you be like “dude no, you have the experts and the resources, leave it there, you can take way better care of it than me”? (It’s not even in my top ten favorite paintings, possibly not even in my top fifty, but I sure as hell wouldn’t take it. I can’t even imagine what I’d do if the MoMA handed me The Persistence of Memory and said “take care of this for awhile.” I sure as hell would not have it in an open case in my dining room.)

And this is why 1) the Mona Lisa is real and 2) you’re supposed to go back and forth on whether it is or not. Because…surely he’s not that callous? Surely he understands the concept of respecting other people’s things, especially other people’s priceless property? Yes, he can certainly afford to damage the Mona Lisa, but—he wouldn’t, would he? Ah—but here’s the genius, the vacillation on whether it’s real tells us he’s the murderer, because one of two things is true. If it’s a copy, then he’s a compulsive liar. Plenty of people, including very wealthy people, the world over own high-quality replicas of extremely famous works, and it’s not seen as shameful or embarrassing—being able to say “this is as close as anyone will ever get to owning the original” is a kind of clout all its own. Miles would have no reason to lie about owning a spectacular replica except extreme self-aggrandizement. And if it’s real, then we know that no, actually, he doesn’t love it as much as he says—it’s a trinket to make him look good, and if the Mona fucking Lisa is nothing but a trinket, then what are the people around him? The ones he claims to love so much? It must be real for the ending to make sense—losing his own copy wouldn’t be “the end of Miles Bron”—but long before we come to that conclusion, there is literally no way for his treatment of the painting to come off as anything but borderline deranged.

And here’s where we get back to “this whole thing is literally just a takedown of racism”: the last time the Mona Lisa was appraised, estimates put it at several hundred million dollars—but adjusted for inflation, the estimated value in 2020 would be about one billion, and appraisers agreed when they valuated it that any price they put on it would almost certainly be surpassed at auction.

And the movie ends with a final explosive “and it’s not worth shit compared to a Black woman’s life.”

It’s not just about “a life is worth more than even the most precious piece of art.” It’s a takedown of racism all the way through.

#glass onion #racism #media analysis

[rubyarrows]

The Key

Tim had just wrapped up a long day at the office and he was still mentally going over the findings in his head. Every little detail of the current case the NCIS team was working on looped repeatedly in his mind. He had heard about this somewhere and he couldn’t quite place where, but it was really starting to bug him on a level he couldn’t quite comprehend.  

He trudged into the apartment he shared with his girlfriend, YN, who greeted him with a warm smile. The sight made him forget some of the hellacious work of the day, if even for a moment. 

“Hey there, handsome,” she greeted as she looked up from her book.  

“Hey there yourself,” he replied.  

“Long day?” she questioned. To which her boyfriend replied with just a simple nod as he placed his bag down on the unoccupied chair off to the side. “I can see it on your face. Dragging case?” 

“You have no idea.” Tim said as he planted himself on the couch right beside her. 

YNN instinctively moved closer to him and cuddled into his side as McGee placed his arm around her. “Care to share?” she asked. “Well, the little you can at least.” 

Tim thought about it for a moment, knowing his girlfriend would probably be able to give some unbiased insight as she normally did in a situation such as the one they were in. So, he gave her all the details he was allowed to share with her, which granted wasn’t a lot but usually that was enough for her to give him and the team enough of a nudge in the right direction. So, he decided to give you the bit of information he could, hoping that it would be enough for his knowledgeable girl to help with. 

But as he explained everything, Tim noticed how YN’s face changed. It wasn’t the normal in thought look she would often get during these types of conversations but more of a look of fear. Something within his words flipped a switch in her mind, putting her into panic mode and he had not even the faintest idea of what it could've been, but he could see it just by the slightest look on her face. 

So, he paused for a moment and looked at her with concerned eyes. “YNN? What is it?” He questioned and sat up slightly taking her with him. 

YN took a deep breath before responding. “I know that signature.” 

“What do you mean you know the signature? What signature?” he questioned with a genuine look of confusion in his eyes as she finally looked up at him to see it. 

“You said the Ducky found an antique key shoved down your victim’s throat, yes?” she questioned, and Tim could only nod. “Well, so did the medical examiner that did Darren’s autopsy.” 

McGee’s eyes widened at the realization. “They never caught the guy, did they?” he asked, knowing the answer already. Tim had gone over the details of her brother’s murder with her and Gibbs, Vance even, several times and the fact that he didn’t catch the one dollop of securing fact within the current case they were working and Darren’s had jarred him.  

“No.” Chy said as she shook her head and it almost seemed like she was fading into her own little world. 

“What are you thinking about, baby?” He could see the panic arise in her eyes. 

“There is no way it’s just a coincidence that I traveled from Texas to DC in order to get away from it all and then a year later, there’s another murder like that of Darren’s around the same area that I now live in…” she trailed her thoughts consuming her and Tim took quick notice of the way her breathing had now become labored. “Oh god…” she looked over at her boyfriend in pure horror. "He's coming after me Tim.” 

Her whole body shook as McGee pulled her into his hold, her panic escalating into a full-blown panic attack. Though he feared the same, it was his job as her boyfriend to comfort her and protect her. He held her close to him, running a gentle hand down her back to try and sooth her in any way he could while softly speaking to her in reassuring tones. 

“Hear my heart? Just focus on that, okay?” he whispered, his tone a calming melody amidst the storm raging through her mind at that moment. “I promise you, YNN, that you are safe with me.” he vowed, his voice unwavering in an attempt to convince not only her but also himself. “We’ll catch him. I won't let anything happen to you.” 

Gradually, her breaths steadied, the panic subsiding under the warmth of Tim’s embrace. She clung to him, finding the solace she needed in his hold and in his promise.

#ruby arrows #ruby arrows imagines #ncis #ncis x reader #ncis imagine #ncis fanfiction #timothy mcgee #timothy mcgee x reader #timothy mcgee imagine #timothy mcgee imagines #timothy mcgee fanfiction #tim mcgee #tim mcgee imagines #tim mcgee fanfiction #tim mcgee imgine

[ramsayxme]

Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five / Chapter Six / Chapter Seven / Chapter Eight / Chapter Nine / AO3 Link

TW - violence, murder, flaying, murder (of a child), physical abuse, emotional abuse, sex, smut, full blown stockholm syndrome, gaslighting yourself, ramsay bolton. I hope you enjoyed my 10 chapters! Thank you so much for reading x

Chapter Ten: And Full Of Terrors

You both awoke to a servant knocking on your door and your infant crying in his bed. You rolled out of bed to grab your squalling baby and Ramsay pulled on trousers to answer the knocking. Ramses quickly latched to your breast, ready for breakfast. You laid back in bed, pulling the blankets high to shield your body from the servant. Ramsay opened the door and a very nervous young man stood on the other side. "My Lord. I am sorry if I woke you, but there is something happening in the courtyard you need to attend to." His voice broke multiple times through the sentence.

Ramsay huffed. "Alright. Let me get dressed... and this better be important." He shook his finger at the servant. "I'll be out in a minute." He shut the door, allow privacy once again. Ramsay looked at you and rolled his eyes regarding the servant. "Sorry, My Lady. I have to go handle this." He pulled a dusty grey waffle-knit over his head before donning his leathers. "Wait a moment and let me come with you. The Little Lord can start his lessons early." You smiled. Ramsay chuckled. "Fine, but bundle him up." Of course you would. Ramsay held his son as you got yourself ready to leave as well and swaddled baby Ramses in the finest furs. You tied him to your chest so the three of you could head down to the courtyard.

You closely followed your husband, his cloak draped over his powerful shoulders and swaying with his steps. With each swing of the cloak, you caught a glimpse of the handful of knives and daggers that he kept on his waistband. You loved how powerful he was. His curls coiled together on the back of his neck and his ears peered out from the dark waves. He walked with confidence, each step oozing of power and purpose. You felt like the most powerful woman to exist as you floated behind him, his heir cooing at your breast.

You exited the stone walls and were met with icy air hitting your face, your hands instinctively covering your baby with your cloak, wrapping it around his tiny body. Ramsay wasn't affected by the cold, his hair blowing softly as it began collecting snowflakes. There was a small group of men, their metal helmets reflecting the snow and making them gleam. "What is it?" Ramsay barked as you approached the men. Without speaking, they began leading Ramsay to the large entrance of the Dreadfort. The wooden doors were towering over you as they pushed them open. On the other side stood a shivering woman, frail and afraid. She held hands with a small boy who looked to be around 4 years old.

Ramsay stood still as a statue, staring at the woman. He turned his head towards the men, and put his hands up, his leather gloves squeaking as he pointed to the woman. "And how is this my concern?" The men nodded and looked at the woman. She had tattered clothes and long blonde hair that was matted in knots. The small boy had black hair and piercing blue eyes. His jaw was prominent and he wasn't shivering. You stared at your husband as he took in the sight.

"Ramsay..." the woman practically whispered. "You don't remember me?" You felt your heart jump, the jealousy and anger bubbling up in your chest. You tensed your body and wished you had brought your knives with you. "No." Your husband said, "Why would I?" She took a step closer, causing all of the men to tense up into attack mode. Ramsay chuckled. "I don't think she will be attacking me. Let her speak." The men relaxed, stepping back to their previous spots. "Ramsay... years ago we lay together. I woke up and you had fled, but..." her voice trailed off as she turned to the boy. Ramsay stared at the child. You were unable to read his expression.

"This is your son." She put her hand on the boys back and gently pushed him forward. He took a few small steps closer to Ramsay and stared up at him. Ramsay gazed at the boy intently. "No, no... if he is mine, he is a bastard, not my son. This is my son, my true heir." He turned to point to you and Ramses. Your eyes were locked on the woman, hatred boiling in your chest and heat pouring into your cheeks. She met your eyes and curtsied with her rags. "My Lady, I mean no disrespect, I mean no trouble-" You interrupted her. "If you meant no trouble, you should have stayed far away. Shut the gates." You demanded the men.

Ramsay held his hand up. "Bring them to the guest chambers. My wife and I will need to discuss a few things but until then, they can rest." Your jaw dropped, your fury now directed at your husband. Ramsay turned on his heels and grabbed your arm. You followed him to the kennels where it was quiet. "Ramsay! I will not-" He interrupted you with his hand on your throat, pushing you backwards into a stone wall. "Let me speak!" He hissed, spitting on your face. "I do not want a bastard son and I do not want this whore woman. I am simply allowing them to come inside until I decide what I want to do with them. Do not question my power again, do you understand?" You stared at your husband, teeth grinding together as you nodded.

"Wonderful. Now, for all we know, this woman is lying. I don't recognize her." You rolled your eyes. "The boy looks like you." You muttered, jealousy oozing from your lips. Ramsay's face twisted into a grin. "Why, you're jealous aren't you? Does it bother you to think about me fucking her before I even knew you?" You growl as you shove Ramsay. Your shove barely moves your sturdy husband. He chuckles. "You're angry. I like when you're angry. My wild wife." He coos, nuzzling into your neck. Ramses is asleep at your chest, so Ramsay can't press his body against you. He kisses your neck, sucking hard and leaving a mark.

While he kisses your neck, he whispers into your ear. "We can get rid of them. Shall we feed them to the dogs? Burn them? Flay them? I'll let you pick, my love... my gift to you." You purr when you hear him say this. You press your lips against his, moaning with passion as your tongue slithers into his mouth. You bite his lower lip hard and twist it between your teeth, making him gasp and pull away. "My feisty bitch!" He grins, blood dripping down his chin. You smile. "Let me take care of the woman. You do whatever you want with the bastard."

Ramsay agreed to this fairly quickly. You had a strong inkling that he found your possessiveness over him quite attractive. Nobody was going to interrupt your life, touch your husband, or push your child to the side. "I think I will tell the bastard that I accept him as mine and want to show him around his new home. When we come in here," Ramsay pointed around the kennels. "I will put him in my biggest girl's kennel and let her get a nice treat." He grinned wickedly at you. "And what will you do?" He kissed your cheek before kissing the black hair on your son's head.

"I want to flay her." You whispered. Ramsay's eyebrows raised. "You've never flayed anyone before, love." You nodded. "I know. I want to flay her, though. I want it to be slow and painful, so she will regret that she ever left her home. And just before she dies, I will tell her what happened to her bastard son!" You chuckled as you watched Ramsay's eyes grow wide with lust. He lets out a snarl as he leans into your neck and bites down, his hot mouth leaving another mark on you. "I'll fetch the boy. You head inside and I'll send the woman in." He whispered before he vanished behind the stone walls.

You ran to your chambers to grab your flaying knife, bow, and some arrows before heading to the torture room. You lay Ramses down for a nap, kissing him on his little forehead. Once you reached the room with the large wooden X, you snuck into a dark corner hidden from view. You remembered Reek in that moment, his frail body dangling from the large wooden cross. More importantly, you remembered the sex that you and Ramsay had on the floor, a wave of fluttering rose in your core as you remembered how it felt. Shortly after you arrived in the room, a few men of the Dreadfort brought the woman into the room, kicking and shrieking. You bit your lip in anticipation, excited to flay this whore that wanted to ruin your life.

She was left on the X, crying and wailing. "Please! My son and I will leave right away! I just thought Lord Bolton would want to meet his son!" She was flailing wildly, the chains clanging on her wrists and ankles. You felt furious at that statement and decided that now was the time to walk out from the shadows. "He does know his son." You said, rising from the darkness of the corner. She trembled as she looked at you. "I gave him his son, his true born heir. Not some bastard he had with a whore. He doesn't love you!" Your voice was gruff, anger settling in your throat.

"Please... We will leave right now. Forgive us." She begged, her eyes dark and wide with fear. You smirked as you got closer to her. "I think it's too late for that." You pulled your knife from behind your back and pointed it at her. "You walked in here like you would take my place. Did you really think that would work?" You pressed the point of your knife to her throat. "No, My Lady, I don't want to take your place. I wouldn't want to be with that monster!" She cried out as you pressed the metal against her skin.

"He is NOT a monster." You growled through your gritted teeth. "Take it back." She shook her head, tears falling from her eyes. "He is a monster, and so are you if you don't see it!" You laughed at her ignorance. "Stupid whore." You muttered as you pressed the knife even harder against her skin, nearly piercing it. You heard the faint sound of barking from the window. You gasped theatrically and leaned in to the woman. "Do you hear that? Shh, listen..."

She started blubbering when she heard a scream when the dogs began barking even louder. "Terrible. I am sorry you had to hear that... but, the dogs have to eat." You grinned, staring at her as she cried out for her bastard son. "Where should I start peeling first?" You asked the woman between her sobs. "Please!" She blubbered. You rolled your eyes as you leaned down, slicing the skin open across her kneecaps. She howled in pain as your knife slipped through her skin easily. You grabbed the flap of skin that hung over her fresh wound and began slowly but steadily pulling it up towards yourself. Her screams were deafening.

Suddenly, you felt hands on your hips. It startled you, since you couldn't hear anyone coming on account of the woman's whining. You spun around to see Ramsay smiling at you proudly. He had blood on his arms and hands, his leathers were off and he was only wearing the grey loose-fitting shirt. You pressed into his body with yours, leaning fully into his arms as you kissed him. You felt warmth immediately between your thighs as he gripped your waist. "Well done, well done!" He chuckled, admiring what you'd done to the woman so far. You felt a tingling sensation in your stomach when you knew Ramsay was impressed by you. "Shall we finish the job together, my love?" Ramsay asked, releasing his own flaying knife from its sheath.

--

The woman was completely flayed and the bastard was no longer existing. Ramsay was breathing heavy as he stepped back from the wooden X and draped his arm around your shoulders, you both had bloody hands and arms. You stared at your husband, watching him breathe through his grinding teeth. He peered over at you and flashed a smile. "I'm very proud of you." He raised his eyebrows and turned to you, placing a hand on your cheek. You felt your cheeks flush pink as you looked deeply into his pale eyes. You slammed your lips against his, moaning in his mouth.

You both dropped your knives with a loud clatter on the stone floor, desperately wrapping your arms around each other. He lifted you by your thighs and you wrapped your legs around his waist. You wanted him. You knew it would be wildly painful but you wanted him regardless. You wrapped your fingers in his hair and yanked, desire was taking over your body. He groaned into your mouth as he felt the dull pain at his skull. He walked with you over to a chair that was in the corner of the room, next to a small table which you promptly shoved over. He sat down with you on his lap.

You hiked up your skirt around your hips as he undid his trousers, just opening the front enough to release his hard cock that was begging to be touched by you. You wrapped your hands around his throat and squeezed mercilessly. His eyes bulged as you slowly slid down on his cock, the pain was intense but you wanted to please him no matter what it took. He groaned loudly when your cunt was around him, squeezing it tightly in your walls. You continued to choke him with one hand, the other hand grabbed a handful of hair at the nape of his neck and you yanked.

His neck was fully exposed to you and you leaned forward to suck and bite the soft skin. He moaned as you rode him with desperation. You moaned with a mixture of intense pain and pleasure as you bounced on his lap, his cock pounding in and out of you. He held onto your skirt, pulling and pushing with your body. You pulled the hand back that was in his hair and you slapped him hard, his skin immediately flushing red where your hand landed. He growled with pleasure as you choked him harder.

You reached behind his waist and pulled one of his knives from his waistband. You pointed it at his neck, barely pressing the tip against his skin. A low moan crept out of his lips as you nicked his collarbone, blood began trickling out. You sliced down his shirt, freeing his pale chest to the air. You began dragging the knife across his chest, leaving scratches and small gashes across his muscular body. He was staring at you with obsessive eyes, obviously loving what you were doing. You finished with a large and somewhat deep cut across his sternum, digging a little deeper than before.

You threw the knife to the ground as you leaned forward, licking up the blood that was trickling down his chest. Your mouth filled with the warm iron and you continued grinding your screaming body against his. He was panting hard, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips spread apart to let the moans escape effortlessly. You knew he was close to his orgasm and you didn't slow down as you slid your tongue into his largest wound before kissing him, your mouth leaking his own blood into his mouth.

His thighs tensed and his breathing caught in his throat as he pulled your skirt, desperate for you to slam down on him harder. You obliged, riding him hard as he came. Your poor body was bleeding too, your cunt sore and abused but you couldn't care. You only wanted to please Ramsay. You rode him through his wave until his cock softened inside you. You slowly lifted yourself, nearly collapsing on his lap once you pulled him out. The pain was excruciating. He held you on his lap as his cum dripped out of you onto his trousers.

You were out of breath as well, and tears finally began to fall down your cheeks. Ramsay smiled as he pulled you close, pressing your chest against his. You could feel his heart beating strongly as he held you. He caught his breath and whispered to you, "You're mine forever, My Lady."

You thought back to a time when those words would have terrified you. You used to be so weak and scared of Ramsay. You almost chuckled at your past self, she had no idea what was ahead of her. You remembered the first time you saw a flayed man from a distance and how it made your stomach churn, threatening your lunch to come back up your throat. You thought about now, the act of flaying someone caused you and Ramsay to bond so deeply and even arouse both of you. You remembered the first time you felt pain at the hands of Ramsay, lying on the pelts in the woods when he revealed his identity to you. You laughed at how foolish and simple you were. Now, pain was just another weapon that you were able to harness to turn into pleasure. You learned so much from your lover, you almost wanted to thank him.

You were confident that nobody else would understand your relationship with Ramsay, the relationship that you battled with in your head for so long. You knew that people would assume that you were evil just like him, and perhaps they were right. All you knew is that you loved Ramsay, and he loved you. It had to be love. It had to be. You were too horrified to think of what it was if it wasn’t love. You swallowed the thoughts and settled with the comfortable words you were able to tell yourself. This was love. It had to be...

The End.

#game of thrones #ramsayboltonsmut #got #smut #ramsey bolton #ramsey snow #ramsay snow #ramsaybolton #ramsay bolton #asoiaf #asoiaf smut #asoiaf one shot #one shot #ramsay bolton x reader #house bolton #house bolton smut #roose bolton #reek #reek asoiaf #theon greyjoy

[doro6o]

ada felt sick. sick to her stomach. she wanted to throw up, throw everything up inside her but she couldn’t. she composes herself, she steadies herself by closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, fixing her posture and letting her arms fall to her sides but her eye twitches.. in what? rage? disgust? pain? she didn’t know and she doesn’t want to.

you, her companion, watch her break quietly. you saw the way the tiniest light in her eyes faded; just when you were teaching her how to be kinder, to be more gentler. you contemplated whether to reach out for her when you saw her fingers twitch, you wanted to hold her, tell her something to make her feel better but the words never formed in your tongue so you just stood there. you see the way her body stiffens and how the hair on her neck practically stood up when she saw her clone and you never understood sympathy until now.

you send your sympathies to the broken woman before you.

people see her as a sex object; nothing more or nothing less. they crave to hear her voice or feel her hand cradle their faces. they stare at her with lust in their eyes. lick their lips like she was some kind of five star meal. she once thought before that maybe leon might be her saving grace but she only inflicted her pain towards him.

when you first meet ada, you see the fragileness of her in her eyes. the eyes that barely held light and any emotion yet you saw right through her facade, it scared her. she points a gun to your forehead but you don’t budge instead you just smile at her, tell her that it’s all right.

ada isn’t sure what made her lower her gun. was it because it would be a shame to waste your skills? or how there was light that shines brightly in your arms despite knowing how the world works? or was it when you gave her the warmest smile that took her back? maybe she’s gotten soft around the edges but she lets you live. she lets you pick; to meet your fate, start anew or accompany her. she didn’t mind having you around with your skills and knowledge, you’d be a useful hand around. another pawn to use despite your annoying nagging and constant tummy rumbles.

ada flickers her gaze from the screen and back to you. she didn’t know what to say, let alone feel. in the back of her mind, she thanks having you with her and shows her the ugly truth of this world again with your stupid technology you always bring around but she curses you badly for always looking out for her.

for once, why could you not mind your own business and let her hesitate during a battle?

“i know what you’re thinking,” you gulped. you took a few steps back, your gut tells you to when you saw that murderous glint in her eyes. “but i cannot let you hesitate for one second out there-”

“i would have figured it out one way or another.” she cuts you off, hand dropping the tablet down the ground and you hear the screen crack.

great. another waste of money. “i let you stay because i know you’re useful, not because i needed a guardian to look after me every goddamn time!” she spats out, venomously. ada takes steps forward, you see how her fingers twitch.

“why do you care so much?”

“because i love you, ada.”

you shut your eyes, awaiting the bullet that would pierce your head or maybe some part of your body like she always does but it never comes. instead, you hear a ragged breathing and smacking of wet lips.

you slowly flutter your eyes open; before you, stood ada whose eyes are full blown wide and the color in her face fading, like she’s seen a ghost. then you realize what you had said. you bit your tongue down harshly.

right now there is no time for such confessions to be known but with the way those words always seem to threaten to roll off your tongue in any given second, it seems to have successfully done as you both stood there like total idiots.

you sigh, you cannot let yourself get carried away. same goes for ada so you reach out to her, caressing her shoulder.

“c’mon we got work to do.”

as the sound of your boots clicking on the ground fade, ada was certain of one thing: you’re not coming out with the same bright look in your face this time.

#ada wong x reader #resident evil

[stellar-constellations]

I think Yuri is still likeable for lot of fans but his story is still very lacking and the growing of his character didn’t shown as obvious much as other main character. And his angry behavior is easy to got hates and judges. Which is sad though because I believe when he’s getting softer and meet different people, we will see a different side of him. That’s why it’s very interesting to see his interaction to other character because most of the times we only see his comedy sides whenever he interact with the Forgers.

I’m do think for a request, I want to know some side story of Yuri and readers in daily life when they still in sss. I do like the details of the reader making brownies and Yuri enjoying it. I do think it will be cute if Yuri invited the reader to the flower store and met his mother grave and gave the brownie as a gratitude. ( or the brownies remind him of Yor or his mother cooking) As something that he wants to make a vow or a promised to taking care of his loved one. It’s will be heartwarming imo but if this is too out of your league ( and since we didn’t have much material of Briars past yet) then it’s okay if you could ignore my RQ.

I do read your updates btw I love it.

        

      Fem! (Y/N) x Mean! Yuri Briar

        This can be read with or without reading my Yuri Briar x Fem! Spy! Reader series: An Alliance (part 1)

        Setting is BEFORE the reader rejoined WISE (so after she declared her resignation to Twilight).

        (Y/N) as her own background in correlation to the Yuri Briar x Fem! Spy! Reader series for plot purposes!

        Yuri is unnecessarily rude to (Y/N).

        Baking is very important for (Y/N). You can take away many things in life; a person's home, their family, their friends, their confidence, their drive, but you can't take away tradition. Tradition is something that will always be passed down, from generation to generation, it can never truly die out, it will always remain in the world. 

        (Y/N) has certain values and traditions that cannot be swayed by anyone, not even the infamous Yuri Briar, a valued lieutenant in Ostania's State Security Service, can change that. Nobody can change (Y/N)'s love for cooking, for family, and for laughter. 

        The first time Yuri woke up without (Y/N) in his bed was a few months ago and he almost had a full blown meltdown. He quickly ran out of his bedroom, half-dressed with his arm stuck in his jacket, hopping on one foot as he tried to slide on his boots.

        "Yuri?" a voice from the kitchen spoke, peeking their head out of the kitchen.

        It's (Y/N)! Yuri smiled, glad she didn't escape. I didn't want to get fired by loosing her, or  have to track her down and kill her in the streets at three a.m. when I could be sleeping.

        "What are you doing?" Yuri hissed, holding his guard up high as he walked into the kitchen. 

        "Jesus, Yuri! You should've said something sooner! I would've stabbed you!" (Y/N) huffed.

        Yuri's eyes traveled to her hands and his eyes widened.

        "YOU WERE GONNA STAB ME?!" Yuri shouted.

        "NO!" (Y/N) shouted back, placing the knife on the counter. "I thought you were an intruder! Like a Westalis spy finding out that I'm working with you or something like that!" 

        "Do you understand that if you stab someone in my apartment, I'll most likely be arrested too? I'm not helping you get away with murder." Yuri hissed.        

        "Boo-hoo." (Y/N) teased sarcastically, a frown on her face. "Just go back to bed." 

        "No! How do I know you're not planning on stabbing me while I sleep? Or trying to run away?" Yuri spoke, then paused as he smelt something drift in the air.

        It was something sugary, something sweet, and something that smelt divine (not that Yuri would ever let her know). 

        "What are you doing? Are you trying to set ablaze the whole apartment complex?" Yuri questioned, moving past (Y/N) to the dessert in the oven as he crouched down, looking into the small window. "Was dinner not enough?" Yuri rudely sneered, causing (Y/N) to throw a wooden spoon at the back of his head. "HEY!"

        "DON'T HEY ME! THE AUDACITY OF YOU!" she shouted, grabbing an oven mitt and throwing it at him.

        At least that's softer... Yuri thought before sending (Y/N) a glare.

        "I just wanted something sweet! You won't let me leave the apartment so I figured I'd make brownies since you have all the ingredients." (Y/N) sighed. 

        "Are they drugged? Are they laced with poison?" Yuri questioned, giving (Y/N) a suspecting glare.

        "You're really insecure and sensitive, you know?" (Y/N) commented.

        "I'M NOT!" Yuri shouted, his pride slightly ruined. 

        "You're also absolutely terrible with social cues! We have neighbors!" (Y/N) hissed.

        "Like you weren't screaming a minute ago!" Yuri huffed.

        "You called me fat!" (Y/N) claimed.

        "Indirectly..." Yuri mumbled.

        "It still held the same meaning!" (Y/N) spat out, before sighing, deciding not to entertain him any longer. "Whatever. Since you're up, be useful and do the dishes." 

        "You're the one baking at three A.M. You do it!" Yuri groaned.

        "Yeah? Well, you're going to be eating some too!" (Y/N) replied, before allowing her composure to falter. "Please... do the dishes..?"

        "Fine. What are you even doing up anyways?" Yuri sighed, walking to the sink.

        The question made (Y/N) frown, a nasty glare shot Yuri's way.

        "It doesn't matter why I'm up. It's not like you actually care anyways!" (Y/N) accused quit boldly (and rudely).

        "You want me to be nice to you but you're so defensive." Yuri groaned, complaining as he rolled his eyes and turned on the sink faucet.

        "I just couldn't sleep, alright? Just some nightmares..." (Y/N) mumbled.

        I understand that... Yuri thought, his hardened angry red eyes softening to plush red, before he put the mask up once more. No! Don't get comfortable! She could be trying to use you for any information from the SSS! Or Yor!

        "You still get nightmares? At your age?" Yuri smirked. "I thought Flower was supposed to protect you?" 

        "Ugh! See? You don't care!" (Y/N) huffed, crossing her arms as she adverted her eyes. "I don't know why I bother when I do!" 

        "No! I'm sorry, sorry!" Yuri spoke quickly, as if afraid she'll leave him. "I... understand. I woke up too because of a nightmare..." he admitted, swallowing his pride. 

        "What was it about?" (Y/N) questioned, scooting closer to Yuri as he started to wash her dirty cookware.

        "You don't nee-" Yuri paused, remembering her words from just a few seconds ago. "Ah..." he grumbled, then took a breath. "I lost my parents too. My mother's affected me the most. Yor looks so much like her, you know..." Yuri took another breath. "Just miss 'em."

        "I understand. My brothers were always at each others throats, including mine. We fought all the time. It's crazy that despite living in the exact same situation, we had completely different views on the world." (Y/N) smiled, reminiscing the past. "My younger brother was so brave and careless, he never let anyone boss him around, so he got in a lot of fights with my dad and authority. My youngest brother was cold one second, then lovey dovey the next. He had some learning problems, but he really just wanted someone to be proud of him..." (Y/N) paused, thinking of her next words. 

        "I had an older sister too, and an older brother. My older brother was really cold, very distant and all. He was kind of like you, believed everyone was out to get him; he wanted to be independent and be his own person." (Y/N) giggled as Yuri paused from washing the dishes to instead watching her smile. "And Yor? God, she reminds me so much of my older sister. My older sister was always looking out for us younger ones, and she was so kind too. I really miss my dad too, he really helped me with who I am today." (Y/N) paused, realizing she was rambling. "What about you, Yuri?" she questioned, turning her gaze to Yuri, surprised to see he was already looking at her. 

        "Oh! Uh..." Yuri gasped, adverting his eyes as he got back to washing the dishes. "I miss my mom... She would make me and Yor this southern stew and it tasted really good, unfortunately, I don't know how to make it." Yuri sighed.

        "Does Yor know?" (Y/N) questioned.

        "Well, she's trying to replicate it. I love Yor's cooking, but... her stew doesn't quite taste like our mom's." Yuri spoke, cracking a smile. "She's buried here in Ostania, in fact, I should go see her sometime. That'd be nice..." Yuri trailed off, getting lost in his own past before he remembered (Y/N) was present and redirected his attention back to her. "So... what about your mom? I just, never heard you mention her, at all." 

        "I don't know much about her." (Y/N) confessed. "She stayed in (birth country) when my dad moved to Westalis for his job. She cheated on my dad and left all of us." 

        "Oh, I'm sorry." Yuri spoke on reflex, but he couldn't help but feel a tinge of pity.

        "Don't be. She never stuck to a mother role even when she was apart of my life. When she left, my dad and I had to start caring for our family. My older siblings weren't reliable with jobs; she had a neurological problem and my older brother was still defying against authority, teenage angst and all. I couldn't have my six and five-year-old brothers working with me, they were still exploring the world and worrying about what game to play next. I forced myself to grow up early since I knew my dad needed help, so I took up that job at the bakery. In fact, that's how I know this brownie recipe!" (Y/N) smiled.

        "Huh..." Yuri muttered, thinking to himself.

        Even before the war, (Y/N) still had a lot to deal with in her life. When was the last time she really had a break? Yuri thought to himself. Whatever. I shouldn't be caring about that! Everyone goes through some hardships secretly, she's no different!

        "Hey, Yuri..." (Y/N) started, pausing to think.

        I want to ask him about his dad, but he hasn't said anything about it (and unlike him, I understand my words can affect people)... (Y/N) thought to herself. 

        "Yeah?" Yuri hummed.

        "...Uh, you think we can skip work Friday? We've just been working soooo much, it's getting boring." she questioned, immediately coming up with an excuse to replace her real question as she smiled stupidly.

        "Don't be ridiculous." Yuri huffed. "We have a job together now, I'm not going to allow you to run back to WISE!" 

        "Hey! I told you in the contract that I'll work with you guys, sheesh! Besides, I was able to get a resignation message across to them." (Y/N) sighed.

        "When? Where? With who? When was this?" Yuri questioned immediately, slamming his hands against the counter.

        "Don't worry! Now back to the dishes with you!" (Y/N) huffed, changing the subject.

        "Fine..." Yuri grumbled. "You know, what's with you doing all the cooking? You're aware I can help out too?" Yuri questioned.

        You're raised by Yor, and I heard from Twilight that her cooking isn't quite edible... (Y/N) thought to herself, avoiding to give him that reasoning as he'd probably throw a knife at her for saying that.

        "You can only take so many things from me, but you can't ever take away what I've learned from my da. Cooking reminds me of my home. Whenever me and my dad had the time, we'd make meals together for the family." (Y/N) explained. "I may have a bad memory, but the day I let go of my family's legacy is the day I die."

        "You're so human that it's a little weird..." Yuri mumbled.

        "That's because I am human!" (Y/N) exclaimed. "You act like I'm a monster or something." (Y/N) sighed, a little disheartened.

        "Westalis sp-"

        "Shut it!" (Y/N) growled, cutting Yuri off. "The rare occasion we actually have a decent conversation, you go ahead and ruin it!" she exclaimed, checking the brownies before grabbing a mitt, removing them from the oven and onto the counter with a towel under the pan, then turned the oven off. "I'm not in the mood for sweets anymore; I'm going to bed." (Y/N) huffed, walking out of the kitchen and turning the corner, disappearing from Yuri's sight.

        Yuri stood in the kitchen alone, thinking of the events prior to her leaving.

        Maybe I was a little mean... Yuri admitted to himself. It doesn't matter. It never said in the contract that I had to be nice to her. 

        It might've not said it in the contract, but Yuri's aware of what little human decency he has towards anyone but Yor, he's aware he's a little too harsh on the poor girl. He knows if he ever acted like how he treats (Y/N) to Yor, he'd cut his own tongue off (after telling Yor over and over about how sorry he is). 

        In truth, he really doesn't know how to act with someone who isn't his sister, much less a girl, much much less his once-enemy (since she does work with him now).

        Yuri didn't have friends growing up, he was too focused on his studies so he can change the world into something better for Yor, so he's never really had the social interaction he should have. Even in school when he had to work with others in groups, he would take the task on by himself because he believed they'd get in his way. 

        Yuri also doesn't have much luck with girls too. Sure, he's attractive and it helps bring in potential suitors, but he's too obsessive over his sister which usually steers girls off (that, or he's convinced they're a spy [which is technically true in this case] trying to get information from him because why would someone say "hi" to him without wanting to betray their country? [Yuri really needs to get a grip]). 

        Yuri finished washing the dishes that (Y/N) requested from him and stared at the pan of brownies, deep in thought. 

        She did say they weren't poisoned... so... I guess I can try just one? Otherwise this'll all go to waste! Besides, she did say I was going to eat them too, so she had it in mind that we're sharing. Yuri thought, convincing himself of why he should give into the ex-spy's cooking.

        He cut a brownie out of the pan and was surprised by the chocolatey delicacy. It had extra chocolate chips in it and it was a perfect mix of fudge and cake. He took another one to eat, then another, and another after that one. He was halfway through the pan before he realized and stopped himself, remembering her words.

        ("...Cooking reminds me of my home")

        ("I'm not in the mood for sweets anymore, I'm going to bed.")

        She made these for herself, but she did have the intent of sharing them with him, so he supposes he can leave some for her. 

        He covered the leftover brownies with aluminum foil and placed the pan to the side, turning off the lights and walking back to his own room, already seeing (Y/N) in his bed and sleeping.

        "Oi, wake up." Yuri spoke, shaking her shoulders.

        She groaned and ignored him, causing him to get a little frustrated and shake her awake a bit harsher. 

        "Wake up!" Yuri hissed.

        "What?" (Y/N) huffed, annoyed she got woken up. "You know how much sleep I need and today's our day off so I wanna sleep in!"

        "I'm sorry..." Yuri muttered.

        (Y/N) looked up at him, a little confused as she sat up from the bed.

        "Sorry...? For what?" (Y/N) questioned.

        "For being rude... and I guess for waking you up..." Yuri huffed.

        "You guess...?" (Y/N) deadpanned.

        "Don't expect so much from me!" Yuri exclaimed. 

        "Oh, don't worry, I'm not." (Y/N) smiled.

        "HEY!" Yuri screamed. "You can never take anything seriously!" Yuri grumbled.

        "I'm messing with you, Yuri. Hop in." (Y/N) giggled, grabbing his arm and pulling him under the covers with her.

        "H-hey! Let go of me!" Yuri shouted, a dark blush on his face as he was shoved in her cleavage.

        "To be honest. I've never heard someone apologize to me before—it's very gratifying." (Y/N) admitted.

        "You're so full of yourself. AND LET GO OF ME!" Yuri screamed.

        "You're such a tsundere..." (Y/N) sighed, obliging as she unwrapped her arms from him. 

        They got comfortable together in the sheets as Yuri closed his eyes, feeling himself slip off.

        "Yuri, earlier you said I never take anything seriously." (Y/N) spoke up.

        "And?" Yuri questioned, his eyes still closed.

        "That's not true." (Y/N) confirmed.

        "...And...?" he questioned.

        "You should be less serious, have some fun. Trust me, it makes life a lot better." (Y/N) smiled. "They say laughter heals a broken heart, and judging by your personality, you could use a good laugh."        

        "Your face is enough for me." Yuri muttered.

        "Aw th— hey!" (Y/N) exclaimed.

        Yuri let out a small chuckle, one that brought a grin on (Y/N)'s face.

        "See? Just like that? You should do it more often..." (Y/N) muttered, her voice a little softer and more sultry than usual.

        "Shut up and go to bed..." Yuri huffed, ignoring the blush growing on his face. "Tomorrow, I'll take you somewhere."

        "Ooo, like a date?" (Y/N) teased.        

        "NO! AND I SAID SHUT UP!" Yuri screamed.

        .

        .

        It was (Y/N)'s turn to wake up alone, confused on the whereabouts of her fake husband.

        "Yuri?" she called out, hopping out of bed and walking out of the bedroom. 

        "Kitchen!" Yuri answered.

        (Y/N) walked into the kitchen and noticed the aluminum foil on the pan. She shot Yuri a curious glance who immediately avoided her eyes. She lifted the foil from the pan and saw half the pan gone, now understanding Yuri's guilty expression. 

        "Damn it! Should've done a larger dose..." (Y/N) muttered.

        "W-what?" Yuri questioned.

        I don't remember it tasting funny? Unless the divine taste was poison?! Yuri thought, alarms going off in his head.

        "Kidding, kidding!" (Y/N) smiled, then loud out a laugh as she recovered the pan. "I saw an opportunity."

        "Ha ha..." Yuri grumbled sarcastically.

        "You like 'em?" (Y/N) questioned.

        "...Yeah..." Yuri muttered, crossing his arms as his face heated up. "Hurry up and get dressed."

        "Where exactly are we going?" (Y/N) questioned. 

        "You'll see." Yuri dragged on.

        "Fine..." (Y/N) sighed.

        (Y/N) walked to their shared bedroom, grabbing a pair of clothes and changing into them real quick as Yuri waited for her in the living room. 

        "Are we visiting Yor?" (Y/N) asked, fixing the sleeves on her shirt. 

        "Close." Yuri replied, causing a delightful smile on her face.

        "We're visiting your mother!" (Y/N) beamed, then ran into the kitchen.

        She grabbed the pan from the counter, returning to Yuri. 

        "What's that for?" Yuri questioned.

        "It's normal to bring offerings to the dead, yeah?" (Y/N) smiled.

        "I guess..." Yuri muttered, then grabbed (Y/N)'s arm. "Let's go." 

        "You can hold my hand instead of my arm, unless I'm courting you? That's cool too." (Y/N) teased. 

        "It's so you don't run away." Yuri reaffirmed quickly, quick to assure (Y/N) wouldn't get the wrong idea as he unlocked the front door and walked out with (Y/N), closing and locking the door behind him. 

        "We're supposed to be a couple, remember?" (Y/N) smiled, shaking Yuri's grip from her forearm and instead holding his hand.

        "If that's the case, let me hold that." Yuri sighed, grabbing the pan from the hand that wasn't in (Y/N)'s grip. 

        "I'm glad to know chivalry isn't dead." (Y/N) teased.

        "Don't start it." Yuri warned.

        .

        .

        Yuri drove to a flower shop, making a quick stop and getting a bouquet of forget-me-nots, having them wrapped in a red ribbon. They re-entered the car as Yuri handed (Y/N) the bouquet, driving to a place unknown for (Y/N).

        "It's really cute you got forget-me-nots." (Y/N) commented. 

        "They were my mother's favorite." Yuri replied, crouching down to the polished gravestone as he held out his hand, signaling for her to give him the flowers.

        (Y/N) obliged immediately, handing him his flowers as she patiently waited for him to finish his internal conversation with his mother from beyond the grave. It must've been a good twenty minutes of watching Yuri silently mourn before he finally stood up from the dirt, clearing his throat.

        "Ready?" Yuri questioned.

        "Can I talk to her?" she questioned.

        "Talk? I mean... I guess? She won't say much though." Yuri smiled.

        "Starting to take to my humor. Huh, pretty boy?" (Y/N) laughed as Yuri shook his head, a blush on his face. "Wanna wait in the car? Or somewhere where you can see me? I wanna have a private conversation with her." 

        "I guess I can. No running off though." Yuri spoke sternly.

        "Yes, sir." (Y/N) saluted playfully, smiling as Yuri walked back into his car, climbing in and shutting the door as he watched her through the window.

        "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Briar. Would you look at that, we have the same title! Well... kind of. It's not official or anything." (Y/N) smiled, kneeling down to the dirt and talking as if she was really present. "I have a gift for you. They're brownies. Yuri ate some, but I hope you enjoy the rest." She spoke, placing the covered pan in front of the grave next to the flower bouquet. "My name is (Y/N) (L/N), my real name that is. In case you're wondering, I'm from Westalis. I do hope it doesn't bring any ill intent or memories to you, I'm not quite sure how you died, but I feel the war might be apart of it. Is that why Yuri dislikes Westalis so much...?" (Y/N) trailed off, before regaining her thoughts. 

        "You have two very beautiful kids, inside and out. Yuri is very entertaining, and Yor is very sweet. I may not be Yuri's official wife, but I really think I'll stick around for some time, or at least until Yuri gets sick of me, which is probably soon." (Y/N) chuckled. "I know we just met, and this is definitely out of the blue, but... I'm starting to warm up here in Ostania. I promise I'll look after Yuri for you. I can tell he's had it rough; I see myself in him, stubborn and determined." 

        "I'm not good with goodbyes, but I don't think that's necessary anyways. You're very important to Yuri, so you're important to me now; sorry, you can't change my mind on that part." (Y/N) smiled. "Yuri's waiting for me. He doesn't trust me at the moment, but I'm making progress. I'll make sure to visit you again, Mrs. Briar. We're in-laws now, so take care of yourself." 

        (Y/N) stood up from the dirt, swiping the dirt and grass off her feet as she bowed, showing her respects to Yuri's mother before running back and joining Yuri. 

        "You have a nice conversation?" Yuri questioned, starting up the car.

        "She told me to tell you that I'm her favorite girl you've ever brought to meet her." (Y/N) joked.         

        "You're the first one." Yuri deadpanned.

        "It's a joke." (Y/N) explained. "But, in actuality. I bet she was really lovely. I mean, she's a good listener, that's for sure."

        "Whatever." Yuri smiled, resisting the urge to laugh. "Let's go home. Find a movie to watch or something. We still have the day off." 

        It's a learning process for the both of them, to learn how to share a space and cooperate with each other. (Y/N) was raised to deceive and kill, Yuri was raised to follow his heart's content (even if his life goal is a bit... peculiar). It's a lot of work to be around someone when you've been alone for most of your life.

        (Y/N) didn't have a family to return to, a friend to tell secrets to and for them to stay alive long enough to keep, a crush to confess to. She had to become everything she wanted; her family, her home, her best friend, and her number one supporter. Yuri didn't have a mother or father to greet once he's come home from school. It also didn't help his sister was working a lot to help support him. He was never greeted home with a warm home cooked meal from mother and a football session afterwards. He didn't have time for things a normal boy would do; get into trouble with his friends, ask a girl out, or even play childish games such as "tag". Now that they have each other, they can be each other's friends, family, perhaps over time, even lovers. Even though they've both been hurt by their afflictions to either the West or East, they can still learn to care and love each other. 

        After all, as the saying goes, only time can heal a broken heart. 

        BONUS! (Daily life + headcannons!):

        This is intended for the Yuri Briar x Fem! Spy! (Y/N) series and there are SPOILERS for the story down below! Click here to read the first chapter: Part 1.

        (Y/N) and Yuri wake up at 5 A.M., a good ten minutes is spent of Yuri fighting (Y/N) out of bed. 

        It's become a habit for (Y/N) to make them both coffee while Yuri reads the daily newspaper. 

        Depending on how much work they had the previous day and how they feel, they either make breakfast together or go out to eat at a nearby breakfast club. 

        (Y/N) and Yuri either drive to work or take the bus, it really depends on how Yuri is feeling (did Yuri drink last night or no?) 

        Yuri refuses for (Y/N) to drive since he's convinced she'll try and drive them off a bridge. 

        Yuri once had to take (Y/N) to the clinic to get her flu shot and was awestruck at how scared she was of needles ([Y/N] cried before they even stuck a needle into her).

        (Y/N) is afraid of needles because of how many she had to see during her time in the Westalis military. Needles usually didn't mean good things. Since there were many injuries in the war and not many supplies or technology, some nurses and doctors had to bullshit their way through things. She saw someone have a bad reaction to one of the needles and it traumatized her since then. 

        Yuri holds her hand when she gets shots (she almost broke his hand from holding it so tight, but Yuri sucked it up [despite having a terrible pain tolerance] and didn't let her see in case she got worried for him). 

        Flower ([Y/N]'s stuffed bunny) was retrieved in the rubble of (Y/N)'s childhood house by Hujo and given back to her at the military shelter. Flower was a toy her father had given her once and it's only the only physical thing she has of her childhood home.

        (Y/N) has a short temper but tries her best to hide it (especially since she lives with Yuri now, everyday is a patience test). 

        (Y/N) sleep-talks (Yuri figured that out the hard way). 

        (Y/N) and Yuri once watched a horror movie together in a drive-in theater. That same night, (Y/N) muttered phrases the demons said in the movies, Yuri was convinced (Y/N) somehow got possessed and hit her awake with a pillow (he did not apologize after [Y/N] explained that she sleep-talks).

        (Y/N) adores Anya and spoils her. (Y/N) doesn't believe she'll find real love in the future, so she doesn't believe she'll have kids (either she won't find someone, or she'll die from the SSS or WISE). Because of this, (Y/N) treats Anya like her own daughter and spoils her with peanuts (Anya likes [Y/N] more because of this). 

        Yuri once had a two-hour study session teaching (Y/N) and Anya basic algebra (the girls both ended up falling asleep as Yuri quietly muttered to himself about how hopeless they are).

        When Yuri got shot during their mission saving one of the Eden Academy buses, (Y/N) refused to leave Yuri's side during the whole healing process. 

        When (Y/N) feels guilty of deceiving Yuri (go to part 8 to understand why), she cooks a lot for him. Her father once told her that food is a way to a man's heart and she fully believes that.

        (Y/N) once ran into one of the WISE agents with Yuri in public, but the agent didn't know Yuri was apart of the SSS! The agent tried to talk to (Y/N) but got punched in the face by (Y/N) who claimed he was a pervert (it was that or being executed). 

        Yuri keeps a close eye on (Y/N) in public, not only so he can make sure he doesn't try and run away, but also so (Y/N) doesn't get injured since she's very clumsy (he lost count with how many times he watched her trip over air or walk straight into still poles). He walks on the side with traffic so she doesn't accidentally walk into ongoing traffic.

        Yuri falls asleep really easy since he's tired from his job, but he'll secretly wait until (Y/N) sleeps so that he knows she's not getting up to any mischief (is what he says, in actuality, he enjoys spending his time with (Y/N). 

        The teddy bear (Y/N) gave Yuri in part 9 is now (Y/N)'s pillow (even though it was meant for Yuri). Yuri gets very jealous of it; he can deal with the small stuffed-rabbit, but the huge teddy bear taking up his bed is very annoying since (Y/N) will subconsciously hold it in her sleep instead of Yuri. 

        I hoped you enjoyed this fanfic and thank you for your requests and support! Feel free to ask for anything else or any other characters from my masterlist! This applies to everyone reading, follower or not!

#x y/n #x you #x reader #x yn #spy x family #yuri #yuri anime #yuri briar #yuri manga #yuri spy x family #sxf manga #sxf spoilers #sxf #yuri x reader #yuri briar x reader #stellar constellations #spy x family yuri #sxf yuri #sxf anime #x female y/n #x female reader #x fem!reader #yn

[privateanxieties]

forget my mercy, take my blame (chapter 6)

Summary: David has a conversation with you that Frank most definitely did not approve of. But, what Frank doesn't know won't hurt him. Right?

Words: 2.3K

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

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David needs to tread carefully. The last time he did something like this was when he talked to Madani behind Frank's back, and Castle let him know what he thought of him in no uncertain terms. It nearly ended their friendship. A repeat experience might actually entice Frank to drive back to New York just to communicate his feelings about this second subtle betrayal. 

Okay— so maybe he's being a snake in the grass. But if being a snake means he gets to avoid Frank walking into a silent trap and prevent her from getting herself killed, then David will slither right along with a clean conscience. It doesn't mean he won't be a little nervous when he has to break the news to his friend, but he'll cross that bridge when he gets to it.

In the meantime, he repeats the information he wants to relay in his head as the phone rings, much like he would for a doctor's appointment. 

After the fifth ring, a whooshing crackle floods the speakers, and a quick glance at his third monitor reveals the phone is still on the ground. He's getting clear blue skies and tree branches through the frontal camera he surreptitiously activated. 

"Hello?" he says, and if his voice wobbles just a bit, he chalks it up to not having done this in a while. Truth be told, he was almost as nervous to do it to Frank for the first time, back when he was trying to get them to team up. He suspects nothing of the sort will be happening here. 

"Hellooo? Are y—" 

"Let me see you or I hang up."  

He freezes at the sudden command. Shit. No. No, absolutely not. He's not turning on the camera. Play dumb. 

"This isn't that kind of call—"

"You have ten seconds."  

Fuck. 

"How did you—" 

"I changed my mind. Five seconds."  

Fuck! Jesus Christ, Sarah was going to murder him herself. Time runs out and he resigns himself to his fate, granting permission to his video feed at the last second and instantly cringing at the mustard-stained shirt staring back at him in high definition. For a while, things are silent. Then, a full-blown sigh is released through the speakers as the woman comes into view, having finally picked up the phone. She looks a little worse for wear with the sun beating down upon her, but David can't make out too much detail in her face. It's a poor connection on her end and a shitty camera, mostly because the phone was built for durability more than anything else. 

Silence ensues again as they stare each other down for a few long moments. David blinks first. 

"Are you going to say anything? Because—" he begins, but is interrupted yet again. 

"Are you his sidekick? You look like a sidekick. The nerdy type, obviously," the woman says. David takes immediate offense, yet he finds that in this instance, he kind of fits the role she assumes of him. He's got monitors for days both in front and behind him, and the newly acquired pair of glasses he hasn't gotten used to rests uncomfortably on the bridge of his nose. He has to admit he looks the picture. Still, he protests. 

"Frank doesn't do sidekicks. And anyway, I'm more of a guidance system. He'd be lost without me. So, not a sidekick," he chides. Even with the shitty connection he can tell she isn't impressed. 

"Yeah…" she says, sounding pretty bored to David's ears. "…To be honest with you, I don't care. I want you both to leave me the hell alone. Figure you can use your guidance system to get lost?"  

David resists the urge to roll his eyes, though a snort does escape him. 

"Trust me, this wasn't my idea. I think you might want to listen though, before you make any more wise choices, yeah? Because right now, I'm your only chance of avoiding a bullet," he warns. 

"Is your friend looking to return the favor?" she asks. David balks at the misunderstanding. 

"What? No! Not from Frank. You know, I don't think you've realized yet that he's actually trying to help you. I mean, okay— He's not the most friendly-looking guy, but he means well. And I don't think he blames you for shooting him, if you were worried about that." 

"I wasn't." She moves some hair away from her face, seeming to gaze at something in the distance. "As for helping me, nobody asked him to. If he gets involved again—"  

David takes the chance to interrupt her this time. 

"Did you kill Collins?" 

An amused smile subtly lights up her face. 

"I'm sorry, who?"  

"Come on, we both know what I'm talking about." 

"You expect me to admit to murder over FaceTime?"  

"You think I'm recording this?" 

"No, no. I trust you, stranger who knows my name and location."  

David's eyes roll back until they hurt. And he thought talking to Frank was like herding cats. He decides he's fine with being accused of having no patience; he has to break through her unbothered exterior somehow, and letting her know the depth of the pile of shit she's in might be a good start. 

"There's an APB out for your arrest in Apolline County." 

It feels like entire minutes pass as he studies her features, though in reality it can't be more than a few seconds. David thinks he sees a hint of the emotions she ought to be feeling, but they disappear as soon as they come. She reverts to impassivity, but at least now he knows it's a carefully constructed façade. This isn't unlike someone else he knows, and he dreads to think what other points of congruence might be found between them. To his trained eye, she and Frank are pretty similar. 

"Hm. Well that's handy. I was just about to turn myself in."  

Morbidly similar. 

"You're going to the police?!" David sputters, incredulous. 

"The police went to my house. I'm just paying it forward," she replies, and it's at this point that David wonders if he shouldn't just let her and Frank figure it out themselves, because this kind of stubbornness will never be reasoned with. 

"You're walking into a trap, is what you're doing," he mutters, watching his screen for any pending alerts. He needs a new approach to this entire conversation. He needs to stop wasting time. 

"Not anymore, now that you've told me they're looking for me."  

David thinks talking to a wall might actually result in a more fruitful exchange. Jesus Christ. He slams a hand down on his desk in frustration. 

"No, you don't understand. The arrest isn't based on a warrant. No judge issued one. It means the police are trying to find you without anyone knowing it if they do. That's why they didn't broadcast it beyond county lines. They don't want anyone asking questions. They're luring you and you're giving them exactly what they want." 

"And why exactly are they luring me, if you're so knowledgeable?" she drawls, leaning against a tree. 

"Personally, I think it might be because you did exactly what Frank warned you not to do," David snarks. 

"What's that?" she asks with a sigh. 

"Uhh… Starting a war with a drug cartel because you killed their boss' little brother?" 

Silence.

Prolonged, extended silence. Laborious. Heavy. Poignant, if David may say so himself. 

"He did tell you that, didn't he?" 

Extremely poignant, apparently.

.

.

.

.

.

.

In retrospect, you did hear something about a war coming out of Frank's mouth right before you shot him. The information had not been this concise, unfortunately. Perhaps his nerdy friend should've been the one relaying all the details from the beginning. Perhaps you shouldn't have shot him like a spaz just because he blocked the door , your conscience objects. Eyes rolling back into your skull, you ponder the inconvenience-turned-potential-disaster while the phone waits inside the van, urgency be damned. With your head leaned against the tree bark, you quietly wish for that clarity you had just hours ago to return. Could things be better? Maybe, but that's neither here nor there. Could they be worse? Definitely. Regardless, the future is the only thing you control. 

A bird's eye view from an omniscient being would be nice to have. Instead, you're weighed down with hindsight and nothing else, much like the never-ending video loop of past events. You know what happened and in what order, but you can't intervene. The what-ifs begging to be factored into your reasoning are harshly buried. You've been down this road before, and those questions only serve as a distraction. You're not very interested in avoiding reality at the moment, particularly when your mouth is parched and you're showering in your own sweat under the Utah sun. 

A few more hours to go until dusk and you're stuck in a random patch of woods, theoretically armed to the teeth but realistically fucked in more than one capacity. Fresh off a murder. An APB for your arrest that only a couple of police stations know about, both under the Sheriff's jurisdiction and command. A home that was broken into by that very Sheriff. Location and name known to a very talkative and weird stranger, who appears to be friends with a not very talkative, even weirder stranger. Micro and Frank , a perfect comedy duo. 

So here you are, realizing how complicated the situation is and immediately resentful of the fact that you agreed to work with someone who has clear leverage over you. Around you, the woods are pretty quiet, not that you're very deep inside the tree line. You can still spot the road ahead if you peer around Frank's van, and it's still just as empty as you knew it would be on a Sunday afternoon. The occasional supply truck traveling between towns doesn't really amount to much traffic. There are no birds chirping or leaves rustling, because everything is either dead or dying here. You don't intend to become one with the scenery of godforsaken Utah, so just this once, you ate your pride. It went down worse than a dry-swallowed pill. Well, at least now you know what Sam meant by 'my brother's going to kill you'. Actually, you think he might've said 'fucking kill you'. A small chuckle tickles your parched lips. Sometimes you just have to learn to find these things funny. 

Agreeing to follow Micro's instructions is most definitely funny, considering your general inability to do as you're told. The contents of his plan are also hilarious in and of themselves: leave Apolline and never look back, keep the phone with you so he knows when you've left the state entirely, and in exchange he'll pretend he lost your trail when his friend asks about you. 

In all honesty, you're not sure what their deal is. Why Frank is eager to get in your way and his friend is willing to lie to ensure that he doesn't is just another one of life's little mysteries. One thing, however, is no mystery: you don't want to cross paths with the man you shot, grudge or no grudge. Leaving suits you just fine from this perspective, but from another, doing as Micro said is completely at odds with your whole life philosophy. You're not looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life, and that's exactly what you would be doing if you cut your losses and left. You could've done that back in the desert, but you didn't. You came back for a reason. 

O'Hare was inside your house. It doesn't matter that you were never going to live in it again after what happened. He invaded your space. He was looking for something — apparently, that something was indeed you. An inelegant snort falls from your lips. He wants to arrest you? You can only imagine his line of thought: someone murdered an old woman on your porch, so naturally you're the only suspect. He's probably under pressure from the mayor to find a culprit, what with elections coming up. Nobody's been murdered in Apolline since the late 2000's. You know. You've checked.

So what’s a girl to do in this mess? Could you run and never be found? Probably. 

Are you going to?

…

Another chuckle, much fonder this time, really accentuates your thirst. It’s stupid to even pretend you could ever follow along with Micro’s plan, no matter how eager you are to never see his worse half again. You don’t run before business is wrapped up. It’s not something you even know how to do. If you’ve stepped on a little cartel’s tail, you’ll deal with that as it develops. And if the Sheriff is really looking for you due to misguided reasons, well… who are you to deny him discovery? 

Pushing away from the tree, you wince as your skin protests from the harsh imprint left by the bark even through clothing. You need to change, a thing you’d be able to do if you’d had the wherewithal to grab your duffel from the car before hijacking Frank’s van last night. Your house is too risky to go back to, but maybe a detour to the bakery wouldn’t hurt. After all, you can’t show up to the police station in your murder outfit, confident as you are that it won’t incriminate you. 

Before you do anything at all, though, you need to find a way around the agreement you just entered into. In order to get back into town, you need to lose the phone so Micro can’t track it and figure out your steps. It’s a problem that really gets your gears turning for a few good minutes, until you remember exactly where you are and what time it is. Sunday evening is precisely when two shipping trucks make their way into town with supplies for three different stores, and the road you inelegantly capsized by is the only one into and out of Apolline. 

A small smile finally curls the edges of your lips, and the invigorating effect of a good idea isn’t far behind. At the very least, there’s an upside to this whole thing. You really aren’t bored anymore. 

.

.

-to be continued-

A/N: A very late update because life stuff has been happening quite a lot lately. So, here we are. This really is the last chapter before a whole lot of chaos and before we meet Frank again. Trust me, he's gonna have a lot to say about these two scheming without his knowledge.👀 And he's definitely gonna rip David a new one for getting duped by her hehe. We'll get there, don't worry. I don't want to spoil anything, but I am excited to get to next chapter's events!

#frank castle x you #frank castle x reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle #the punisher x reader #frank castle smut #frank castle fanfic

[bornonthesavage]

Detective Steve x Serial Killer Eddie 

CW: Discussions of dead bodies and methods of murder 

The hot tip of the cigarette smoldered red, burning up the end as smoke swirled away into the damp afternoon sky. It had been a wet October, the air already thick with the smells of dead leaves and petrichor. Steve liked the rain, he did, but shit. Sometimes it would be nice to stand out in the sun. At least it wasn’t raining now, something his hair was grateful for. He tilted his head back and blew out a cloud of smoke, the tip of his tongue pressing into his bottom lip.

Behind him he heard movement, the steady sound of familiar footsteps, followed as always by Nancy’s no-nonsense voice. “Steve, hurry up with your smoke break. We have work to do.”

He nodded once, taking a last drag before stubbing it out on the nearby wall. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Don’t get your holster in a twist.”

When he turned, she was already giving him a stern look. “This is no time to mess around.”

“Why not? It’s not like the body’s going anywhere.”

It was the third one in a month. Which, for a city like Indianapolis, wasn’t a ton. The problem was that they knew all the murders had been committed by the same person. They had a serial killer on their hands. It was Steve’s first, since he’d joined the force three years prior. Sure, he’d dealt with plenty of homicide cases, but a serial killer was something else entirely. It set the force on edge, as they knew they were on a time crunch before someone else ended up dead. Nancy most of all, it seemed.

“Stop joking. Henderson says he has some more info for us.”

Steve nodded. “Alright. Lead the way.”

They marched through the first level of the empty building, a construction sight that had been put on hold, until they reached the stairs. The victim had been found on the second level early that morning by the owner of the property, as he’d been doing his weekly inspection. As soon as they’d been called in, Steve knew what they’d find. It was a gruesome sight.

They stepped into the room together, the space already full with others as they moved around and collected evidence. Jonathon was crouched near the head of the victim, taking photos, while Henderson stood nearby taking notes.

“What information do you have for us?” Nancy asked at they approached.

Henderson glanced up and gave Steve a head nod. “The body is in pretty much the same state as the others. All the bones in each limb are broken, as is the jaw. We’ll need to do an autopsy, obviously, but I’m willing to bet all breaks happened premortem. As did the removal of the eyes.”

“So, they were tortured,” Steve summarized. “Just like the others.”

“Yep.” Henderson nodded. “As you can see, the body was also strung upside down using cable wire. Again, we’ll need an autopsy, but the cause of death was almost certainly blood loss from the cut throat.”

Yeah, Steve sort of gathered that. The kiddie pool filled with blood, placed just below the strung-up body, sort of made it obvious. He took a step closer and leaned down to get a better look at the gash along the throat. It was deep, done with a sure hand.

Nancy looked back at Henderson. “So, you’re absolutely positive that it’s—”

“The Upside-Down Killer? Yeah, positive.”

Steve snorted as he straightened up. “I can’t believe you’re all calling him that.”

“Them,” Nancy corrected. “We don’t know it’s a man.”

“Statistically, it’s the most likely outcome though.”

Nancy pursed her lips, unable to argue that point. “Alright, well, were you able to find anything else? Anything that might help us catch the son of a bitch?”

At that, Henderson’s face lit up. “Actually, yes. Maybe. Come over here.”

They followed behind him to the far corner of the room, Steve keeping a pace behind. Henderson crouched down and pointed to what looked like a partial boot print. It was just the back half, imprinted in some dirt that must have blown in during the last rain storm. A small smile tugged at Nancy’s lips.

“This is good. This is the first bit of evidence we’ve been able to gather on this guy.”

Steve quirked an eyebrow. “Oh, so it is a guy now?”

“Obviously. Look at how big that boot print is. So unless the killer is a woman with oddly large feet, it’s a man.”

Steve hummed, his eyes trailing back to the print. It was extremely clear, easily picked up to add to evidence. The killer was getting sloppy. This was good for the department, evident by Nancy’s bolstered mood. She straightened up and turned to Jonathan.

“Make sure you get plenty of shots of the boot, with measurements. Then get the rest of the team in here to collect the body and get it back to the lab. If our killer already messed up with this boot print, who knows what other ways he could have slipped.”

Jonathan nodded, already making his way over. Nancy turned and marched out of the room, but Steve lingered behind. He stopped beside the body, taking in the gaunt and twisted face of the man. It never really got easier, to see bodies twisted and mutilated in this way. It was a part of the job, sure, but there was a reason Steve hadn’t gone into pathology. He would rather be on the puzzle solving side. Henderson came to stand beside him.

“We’ve got to catch this monster, Steve. He’s getting bolder. This murder happened only a week after the last. A whole week sooner than between the first and second. He’ll kill again, and soon.”

Steve let out a deep sigh and nodded. He knew that was true, of course. More people were going to die. He clapped his hand onto Henderson’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“Don’t worry. We always catch them eventually, especially nowadays. He’d have to be a mastermind to get away with this for long.”

Henderson gave him a smile. “There’s the cocky Steve we all know. You always get your man, huh?”

Steve tossed him a wink. “Always.”

By the time he made it outside, Nancy was finishing up her call beside the car. He caught the tail end of what she was saying as he approached.

“Yeah, will do. We’re headed back to the station now, and once we have the full autopsy we should have a better grasp on this thing. Yeah. Okay. Bye.”

She hung up and turned to Steve. “Hopper says to get back to the station now so we can write up our full reports. We need to figure out if this guy has any relation to the other victims.”

Steve nodded as he climbed into the car. “He might be the missing link we’ve been looking for. I still haven’t been able to find any common thread between the other two, but maybe we’ll find something here.”

“Hopefully. We need a break in this case.”

Indianapolis had never been where Steve wanted to end up. It was never more obvious than on days like this, with the sky overcast in grey and the littered streets flitting past outside the car window. No, Steve had always wanted to move some place with more sun. Maybe California or Arizona. Someplace warm. But for now, he was needed here.

Steve had always had a thing, ever since childhood, that made him need to be useful. Perhaps it was because his parents never even looked at him unless he was doing something they deemed good, something they could show off to all their friends. Daddy issues, how original. It was the whole reason he’d gotten into this line of work to begin with. As a detective, he could help someone in a way that really mattered. In a way that was important.

His therapist would tell him it was unhealthy to get off on the idea of only holding value so long as he could provide a service. That was precisely why he didn’t have a therapist. There was no way he needed another person inside his head, picking apart all the reasons he did what he did.

When they reached the precinct, Steve lingered in the car for another second while Nancy jumped out almost as soon as it was in park. She was always like this when there was a case she deemed important. At first, some of the other guys had called her Nany Drew. Both she and Steve had shut that down pretty damn fast. Steve watched as she marched up the steps and threw open the door, not even waiting to see if Steve was following. Which was fine. He usually needed to take a moment before walking into the chaos. Steve leaned against the headrest and took a few measured breaths, then pushed open his door and climbed out.

Almost as soon as he was through the door, the new recruit, Will, approached him. “Hey, Hopper’s waiting for you in his office. I think Nancy’s already there.”

Steve gave him a brief nod. “Thanks for letting me know.”

By the time he got to Hopper’s office, Nancy was already pacing back and forth as she recounted the new information they’d learned. Steve leaned against the wall beside the door and listened.

“This means he’s getting sloppy. And that’s only what we have on a first inspection. Once forensics gets in there, who knows what else they’ll find? I think we’re getting close. I can feel it.”

Hopper leaned back in his chair. “Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves. This guy is a sick son of a bitch and we don’t know what he’s capable of. I want you two to revisit what we have so far and this new evidence. Get an ID for this victim, see if there are any connections.”

“Already on it,” Nancy said. “I have Max looking through the missing people who’ve been reported in the last week. If this victim has anyone who cares about him, he’ll be there.”

“Good. Steve, what have you found about the previous two victims?”

Steve straightened up and pulled out his phone, where he’d made a file. “The first body we found belonged to Andy Phillips. He was a local tax broker, no history or record in our systems. As far as I can tell, he was pretty straightlaced. The second victim was Martin Brenner. He was a surgeon, one of the tops in his field in fact. There were some rumors about him being sued for malpractice, but nothing ever came of it. So far, I haven’t found a connection.”

Hopper drummed his fingers on his desk. “Alright. Get to work on adding this new evidence to the case. I want the report on my desk by tomorrow morning.”

“Yes sir,” Nancy said, already storming out the door. Sometimes it surprised Steve, just how much of a force of nature she was.

It was hours later, when Steve was bent over his computer and writing up his report, that Nancy burst into the room with a wide smile on her face. It was a little unnerving, considering the case they were working on. She slapped a file down on his desk.

“Fred Benson.”

Steve blinked, looking at the papers. “What?”

Nancy slid a few sheets around until it revealed a picture of a bespeeched man in a white pressed shirt. “Fred Benson. That’s the name of our newest victim.”

“Jesus, how did you find that so fast?” he asked, picking up the file to flip through.

“Oh please, you know I’m just that good. Max also helped. This guy was reported missing two days ago when he didn’t come home from his job. Apparently, he worked for Indianapolis Times as a journalist.”

Steve hummed as he read the missing person report. “Any connections to the other two bodies?”

She shrugged and moved around the desk to sit in the chair opposite him. “I haven’t got that far yet. But I do think we’re starting to see a pattern in this guy’s victims.”

Steve snorted. “What, that they were all really fucking boring?”

“No,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “They’re all middle to upper class white men.”

“Eh, that’s not really an MO.”

“How can you say that? If they were all women with red hair, you’d see it.”

He tossed the file back onto the desk and leaned back, kicking his feet up. “Yeah, because that would be specific. These guys look nothing like each other. Hell, that Brenner guy was at least forty years older than the other.”

Nancy pursed her lips. “Still. It’s something that we should consider.”

“And we will. We’ll consider everything, just like we always do.”

Nancy opened her mouth to say something more, but just then the door opened and Chrissy walked in carrying two cups of what smelled like coffee.

“Hey guys!” she said with a bright smile. “I heard you were working hard on that new serial killer case and thought you might both need a pick me up.”

“Oh my god, you’re a life saver,” Nancy said, reaching out for the mug offered to her.

“It’s no problem,” she said, turning to hand the other mug to Steve. “Have you made any headway?”

Steve motioned to the file. “Yeah, actually. Nancy thinks we finally have an MO for who the killer goes after.”

Chrissy’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? Well, that’s good, isn’t it?”

“Eh,” Steve waved a hand. “Sort of. Considering so far all we have is ‘White guys’, I’d say that’s not too helpful.”

Nancy shot him a look. “Hey, it’s something! We can start building a character analysis, at least.”

Chrissy took the file from Nancy’s hand and flipped it open, her big eyes scanning through the papers. “Let me take this down to evidence so it can be documented. I’ll let you guys get back to it.”

Steve raised his mug and gave her a smile. “Thanks, Chris.”

She slipped out the door with one more wave. In her wake, Nancy got a thoughtful look. Steve knew that could only mean trouble.

“I think this guy, this serial killer, has some issues.”

Steve almost choked on his coffee. He set the mug down and dabbed at the drops that had fallen on his tie. “Gee, Nance, you don’t say? What could possible have given it away? Was it the torture? Or was it the kiddie pool filled with blood?”

“Cut the sarcasm, Harrington,” she said, pointing one manicured nail at him. “And I mean, yes, it’s all of it. But more so, it’s the painstaking details this guy goes through to make every kill the same. Usually, it’s something pretty simple, like strangulation with electrical cord or cutting off a persons head. But not this guy. He always makes sure to break all the bones in the exact same place, saving the jaw for last. Then it’s the eyes, which he takes. After that, he strings them up in the exact same manner with the same pink kiddie pool beneath them. It’s so specific. Like, there has to be something there.”

Steve turned his eyes away, back to the blinking cursor on his computer. Nancy had always been good at this, at seeing the patterns he couldn’t. It was amazing she hadn’t been promoted yet. Surely within the next five years, she’d be his boss rather than his partner. Puzzles really weren’t his thing. Which was ironic considering his job. But when everyone else gave him the pieces and showed him where they went… yeah, he could do that.

“You’re probably right. And if that’s true, there’s a good chance he sticks to other patterns in his life. And patterns mean leaving clues. Don’t worry, Nance. We’re going to catch him. It’s just a matter of time.”

By the time Steve left the precinct that night, it was pushing ten o’clock. He didn’t love working long hours, but it was better than sitting in his empty apartment, letting the worry and stress take over until he spiraled. At least if he was working, he was getting things done.

He trudged up the stairs to his second floor apartment and shoved the key into the lock with a little more force than was necessary. But his feet were killing him, and he could already feel the migraine coming on. All he wanted now was to drop into bed and close his eyes until morning.

Once inside, Steve kicked off his shoes and shrugged his jacket from his shoulders, hanging it on the rack beside the door. He left the lights off as he walked down the hall to the living room, where he dropped his carrying bag. The room was a little colder than he’d expected, which he realized a moment later was due to the window he’d left open beside the sofa. Well, there went his heating bill.

Steve began to walk toward it when a sudden pressure at his throat made him stop. His whole body froze up at the cold press of metal and the contrasting hand that wrapped around the base of his throat. A spike of adrenaline rushed through his system, making his heart pound harder and his breath catch. The feeling of a body pressing to his back stopped him from shaking too bad.

A voice spoke directly into his ear, the touch of wet lips and hot breath making him shiver. “Guess who.”

Yeah, he could take a pretty good guess based on context clues. Steve licked his lips. “What are you doing here?”

A deep laugh rolled across his neck, making Steve’s hair stand on end. “Oh, I just couldn’t stay away. I saw you today, outside the site of my latest work.”

Steve turned his head slightly, feeling the soft scrape of the blade. “You were there?”

“Mhmm. And I have to say, you looked fucking delicious. All brooding, with your long coat and cigarette. Can you really blame me for not staying away?”

The hand tightened slightly before relaxing again. Slowly, Steve turned around. The blade never left his throat, just shifted to sit along the underside of his jaw. He took in the dark eyes and wild curls of the other man, the wicked tilt of his lips as he drank in the sight of Steve. He wore a nondescript black long sleeve, with just the hint of tattoos peeking out. Steve met his eye, barely able to make out the depths of them in the shadows of the room. Then, slowly, a smile grew across Steve’s face.

“Hey baby.”

Eddie’s own smile softened. “Hey Sweetheart.”

#steddie #steddie au #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #My writing #I have like #A whole entire fic thought out for this concept. #With a back story and Eddie's motives #Also lots of smut #But I know if I start it I won't be able to stop and it'll take over my life #So for now #accept this snippet

[crushedsweets]

neeed to hear the context behind ur most recent art. please enlighten us

you guys dont even know how excited i get when someone asks smth like this abt my art or headcanons or au.

i actually wrote liek a fucking essay oh my god im so sorry anon ill have the actual drawing context after the big bolded caps

TW for typical creepypasta story type stuff

anyway ok UNNECESSARY BACKSTORY: liu spent a long time trying to just psychologically recover from everything. he hated jeff and he hated the memory of everything. jeff signature murders would occur every now and again, each time liu would fall into a deep depression. the murders stopped for a while, and everyone believed jeff 'retired' or died. liu was conflicted about it. until Jeff committed his final full-blown 'jeff fashion' murder (janes family) in tuscaloosa alabama. liu had another breakdown and ended up moving to tuscaloosa because he was completely convinced he needed to find jeff again because he could fix it (or die trying and he'd be fine with that too)

nina was always one of those girls obsessed with 'true crime' but like.... the murderers instead of the cases. she was 12 when jeff's first rampage happened and she just fell head over heels in love with this freak. she began to act out, miss school for days, sneaking out to meet older people, etc etc. eventually she did the classic jeff smile cut into her face(she pussied out on making it like jeffs, so she has cleaner, less noticeable scars) . she started getting severely bullied (for being creepy and worshipping a literal murderer) and her parents sent her to live with her grandparents in mississpi. she started stalking liu through social media and whitepages when jeff was presumed dead. but eventually, jeff's final murder happened in alabama(a state away from her) and after turning 18, she ran away to go find jeff convinced he would 'save her' from the life she created for herself. nina got wrapped up in slenderman business because of her constant Tom Foolery. she met her idol

JEFF IS A BAD PERSON IN EVERY SENSE OF THE WORD. he did a beautiful job in using his #1 fangirl and enjoying the worship. she scrambled for pennies to afford an apartment, she'd sleep on the couch if he wanted to use her bed, she's ride her bike hours to go get weed or something from rando drug dealers that give better deals to pretty girls, make him food, do his damn laundry, literally anything and everything bc THATS HER MAAANNNNN (no he isnt.)

jeff DOES NOT GIVE A FUUUCK about everything nina does for him . one day he finds her trying to creepily get into contact with liu (and liu actually responded) and he loses his shit and stabs her and goes on and on about how 'you ruined your own useless fucking life your family is never going to take you back you did this to yourself' etc. he didn't intend to kill her only cuz he knew she'd forgive him and he liked all the shit she gave him

NOW ABOUT THE DRAWING ITSELF:::::

afterwards nina gets patched up from jeff stabbing her, she has some weird 'liu will save me' spiral (not romantically just in a very literal 'he can fix this' way). liu's been on his own spiral since finding out jeffs alive which is the only reason he even gave nina the time of day. eventually she ends up at his house to 'talk about jeff' bc she sent him creepy pics proving she knew jeff yadayadayada.

im not sure the exact conversation i imagined for the drawing, BUT liu eventually says something that sets nina off and she tears at her stitches and breaks down and drips blood all over his kitchen talking about 'I CAN MAKE HIM LOVE ME AGAIN I JUST NEED YOUR HELP PLEAAASEEEE' or something.

liu's a good man, much to his own detriment, and can't help but comfort this kid who's bleeding and crying in his kitchen at the fault of his own brother. he's all too familiar with wanting to repair his relationship with jeff, despite the amount of rage, betrayal, misery, etc he felt at jeffs hands. he doesn't ACTUALLY want to reconnect with jeff, but it's a very deep internal longing for the baby brother he once had that VERY RARELY overshadows his hatred

i want to reaffirm that liu does not feel positively about jeff at all, does not want to see him, and only moved to alabama b/c of a long ass mental health crises and is now too wrapped up in new financial commitments(plus jane) to move again. and now he feels obligated to help nina

he just misses being a big brother :( not so much the jeff part

also none of this at all is shipping at all i am terrified at the idea of people taking anything romantically . even if nina is in 'love' with jeff its purely for the story/horror . ITS ALL REALLY BAD

#creeped #hcs #guys i dont know why i keep doing this LMFAO IM SORRY ANON I TALK TOO MUCH I ... theres something in my brain #asks #soisjkhjdgvdkj #should i tag this as liu and nina... ok fuck it #homicidal liu #nina the killer #i literally have no feelings towards jeff as a character.. but the amount of people he ruined in his path ? damn . ok. got me

[starbase-yorktown]

For the wip title ask game: how to live with living forever/ruin (of bitten lips and broken hands) 👀👀👀

I would also love to hear about your oc novels, so whichever you want to talk about is good!

💗💗💗

*cracks knuckles* let's go @zzoomacroom, you asked for three WIP updates and you're getting three WIP updates. Answer Part 1.

ruin (of bitten lips and broken hands): sequel to my centennial husband big bang fic nothing grows in corpses (in the earth of me) which you can either read there or read more about here first. The overarching series is titled how to live with living forever. But where NGIC is about Morpheus' unwillingly resurrection and him coming to terms with living after months of a gruesome existence strike, "ruin (of bitten lips and broken hands)" is about him learning to come to terms with his flaws and the ways he hurts others, about learning how to be a better man under the straining tutelage of Hob Gadling (and his gf Gwen who SERIOUSLY deserves better, RUN, BABY GIRL, RUN). Here there be murderous breakups, toxic codependent relationships, Linda Martin of CW's Lucifer tragically getting roped into this shit show to help folks learn accountability and healthy coping strategies, and all-in-all a Dreamling endgame where both men have to take a long, hard look at themselves and do some growing up and healing before they can truly reach for each other.

+++

That night, Hob drifted in that in-between of sleep and wakefulness until he became suddenly very acutely aware of someone crouched at his bedside. Someone with wild, gravity-defying, technicolor hair was bowed all close to him, peering into his face almost nose-to-nose with those unblinking eyes—

“Jesus fuck!” he shouted and startled into full-blown wakefulness in the same shaft of fear.

“I dunno if Jesus fucked,” Delirium frowned, suddenly enamored with this line of thought. “He was really very busy, busy like the bees and the birds and—”

Hob turned wildly to Gwen for some measure of assistance—a twitch, a snore, he'd take anything—only to find her somehow still sound asleep despite the chaos unfolding not an arm's length away. He'd worry about that unnatural slumber next, he decided, and twisted back to Delirium, nearly grabbing her by the arm as he hissed his demand.

“What are you doing here?”

She blinked at him like some kind of eerie clockwork doll, her head turning this way and that in kind. “WatcHInG yOu sLeEp” she said, and her voice layered and echoed and distorted in a way that made Hob’s blood run cold. The strength in his voice turned to rubber.

“Wh-w-why?”

“He likes you," she said as though it were obvious. "He doesn’t like a lot of people. Doesn’t like me all the time. I wanna see what’s inside you that makes him like you.”

Hob swallowed.

Are you there, God? It's me, Robert Gadling.

“……..A-And?”

The girl shrugged. “Dunno.”

And before Hob could figure out how to protest, spluttering and moving to scramble clear up the headboard far too late, Delirium climbed into bed with him, straddling his belly and settling atop him with a weight like an elephant despite her willowy, tiny frame. His hands held at his shoulders, afraid to touch her anymore than he already was, and he casted about for something, anything to help him out of this predicament without having to shout for Morpheus or Gwen.

And then her hands were touching him, gripping his sides, her fingers slotting into the cage of his ribs, and he tried to jump clear out of his bones with a nervous, uncomfortable laugh. “Fuck—”

“You like that word.”

“S-sorry,” he stammered as he watched her poke and prod, watched her play with the carpet of hair on his chest with all the curiosity of a child, watched her reach for his head and lift the strands of his hair. She combed her fingers through it, just to see what it felt like, and tracked the form of his muscles and bones from his shoulders to his arms down to his hands with a firm, probing grip. She sniffed at his scalp, his neck; something warm and wet dashed across his skin, and she pulled back, running her tongue along the top of her mouth with a perplexed expression as if pondering the very taste of him for an answer to her question. Hob’s stomach turned. “Just. Just a bit uncomfortable.”

She looked sharply into his eyes, seizing on his words as if they held the answers she sought. She picked up his hands, feeling every finger, every callous, bending his joints through their ranges of motion.

“Why?”

“Hey, um.” He took the risk and closed his hands on hers, trying to hold her still, “D-Delirium, was it?”

“MMhmm,” she frowned, trying to extricate her hands and continue her so very important study.

“Look, I-I’d love to help you understand your brother, but this is really not appropriate. You should come back in the morning like Morpheus said.” She had been stilling as he spoke, staring at his hands on hers, and a light bulb went off in his head: a way out, a way to distract her. “Wh-where’s your dog? He’s probably real worried about you—”

“He’s with the fishies,” she mumbled.

Hob gulped.

“A-as in dead o-or—”

“No, sleeping! Don’t be silly, it’s sleeping with the fishies, not drowned with the fishies or chopped up with the fishies or run over with the fishies—” She had been fighting to pull her hands free again, frowning all the more deeply even as her voice lilted and twirled, and Hob gripped her a bit tighter despite his better judgement.

“Delirium.” She stopped. She stared into his eyes this time, and he felt the world begin to get a bit fuzzy at the edges, felt gravity begin to tip. “Go home, lamb. Or g-go back to where Barnabas is sleeping, I’m sure he needs someone to look out for him while he rests. Right? You can come back in the mornin’. Promise.”

Her hands relaxed in his. And he cautiously let her go, seeing a wavering in her expression and body language that led him to think she was finally going to sulk away. What he did not anticipate was for her to draw her arms to her chest, like a child hiding away within herself, and then for her to pitch forward with rising shoulders and a doming back until she was pressed to his chest like a loafing cat or a scared toddler.

For a moment, she just laid there.

Then, she began to shake; her breaths began to tremble, and icy-hot tears seared his skin as she began to weep….

This fucking family. Jesus fucking Christ.

#my writing #fanfic #the sandman #dreamling #the sandman netflix #hob gadling #morpheus #mine #WIP ask game

[givemea-dam-break]

ephemeral - chapter three

a/n: i hope you all enjoy this - the next part will have a lot more going on, i promise!

warnings: mild language gn reader

full collection: here

The next morning is spent at 35 Portland Row, the four of you - you, Lockwood, Lucy, and George - pouring over the contents of the file you stole not even twelve hours ago. Still, after a comfortable nap in Lucy's bed, you feel as if you've been running only recently, heart pounding and feet aching. Nothing a good brew won't fix.

"It looks like the mansion used to be home to this family - the Mortons - in the early eighteen-hundreds," George says, pushing his glasses up his nose. "All of them died in a house fire, save for the only daughter and her son. Some theories suggest she started the fire so that her son would inherit the money instead of one of her six brothers, but it was never confirmed. She went mad a few years later while they were living in northern England after the son died from tuberculosis when he was eight."

Lucy frowns, taking a bite out of her glazed doughnut. A few crumbs fall on her pyjamas. "Bit grim. So, do we think it's the dead family haunting the mansion? I mean, they were killed in the fire - if not murdered - so they've possibly got a reason to come back."

"The report says there were at least five Type Twos," you say, carefully sipping your tea so as to not spill it over the aged paper. "Two men, three women. A mix of Phantasms and Wraiths. The kid who died was ghost-touched by one of the Phantasms. The one who was driven mad had been ghost-locked by a Wraith. The supervisor barely got that one and the other agent out alive. Wait..."

"What is it?" Lockwood leans over the arm of his chair, his face coming far too close to yours.

"My old supervisor - she was one of the kids on that case."

"Hanna Reid?" Lockwood takes the report from your hand, scanning over the writing.

"She was your supervisor?" George asks. "Maybe we could ask her for help, see what advice she could give."

You shake your head, taking the report back from Lockwood and trying to ignore how his fingers brush yours almost purposefully. "No, she never spoke about her cases, really. She was a good supervisor, but she wasn't entirely there, you know? Besides, it'd reveal that we were the ones that broke in yesterday. All that would lead to is DEPRAC arresting us and Steve Rotwell sending this company into an early grave."

"So we can't ask her for help," Lockwood says. "What else do we know? Do we have a layout of the mansion, anything else the report itself tells us?"

"Here's the layout," Lucy says, pushing forward an architectural plan. "Big place. It's got a ballroom and everything."

George takes the plan. "The fire originated in the east wing of the house, over by the drawing room, but the report says that the team found a source in the ballroom under the floorboards. Obviously, it wasn't the only source, because there are ghosts still lingering."

"This is assuming these ghosts are the same ones from almost two decades ago," Lockwood reminds you all. "Could be a completely different set of Visitors. They might well have triggered a new haunting."

Lucy groans. "How are we meant to be prepared for tonight? This kind of case needs a few days' worth of preparation, not one morning."

"Not to make things worse," George says, "but Miss Jeffries called earlier on, Lockwood. We're prohibited from using magnesium flares seeing as her party is tomorrow night and she doesn't want her mansion blown to pieces."

Now you groan, plucking an Apricot Danish from the plate on the coffee table. "So a repeat of Combe Carey Hall, then, except this time we won't even have a smuggled-in bomb flare."

"I could arrange something," Lockwood says, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"No, I don't think that'd be a good idea," George says. "As much as I'd love to get my eardrums assaulted again, we have to go about this all differently."

Lockwood doesn't let that discourage him. "Well, we'll stock up on extra salt bombs, and I can head to Satchel's to pick up some heavy-duty chains."

"Lucy, go with him, won't you?" you say around your pastry. "Make sure he doesn't get flares. I'll pack the bags here."

If the prospect of getting dressed and leaving the house bothers Lucy, she doesn't show it. "I've missed you mothering him."

The comment stops you cold. George chokes on his biscuit. Lockwood isn't moving. Lucy's eyes widen.

"Sorry, I didn't mean -"

"It's fine," you say, swallowing. It's his fault I've not been here to do it. "I'm going to go pack our kits. George, here are the rest of the reports. I'll be in the basement."

--

One of Lucy's mixtapes is blaring from the speakers down in the basement, and the loud music is a good distraction from your thoughts. With it playing, you can focus on oiling the chains you've picked out and packing the kits with everything you might need. Salt bombs - you've spent a good hour or so making another batch - along with packets of gum in each bag to save George having to figure out who's got it, some snacks unique to each person, a flask of tea in Lockwood's for everyone to share. Once the chains are finished, you wind them up as tightly as you can manage and shove them into the kits.

The whole routine comes to you too easily. It isn't hard to forget everything and pretend, and, oh, how you would love to pretend that the past eight months never happened, but you have to keep reminding yourself that it did. After this case, you'll never see Lockwood again.

It surprises you how much it hurts to think about that. You hate him for what he did, and he probably doesn't particularly like you after things you said that extended far past calling him a conceited asshole, but, surprisingly, you hate the thought of never seeing him again more.

This is just a taste of what it would be like to be with the team again, and you've found yourself enjoying it. You've no issue with Lucy or George, but even being with Lockwood isn't nearly as bad as you thought it would be. Do you really never want to see him again?

I'll stay away until you're ready to speak to me again, or forever if I have to.

A little part of you is smiling at the memory of his words. The arrogant prick knew you wouldn't be able to stay away.

"Am I interrupting something?"

You jump, turning to find George at the foot of the basement stairs. "Oh, George, hey! No, you're not. I've just finished packing our kits."

"Oh, ok, just that you were staring at Skull for longer than any sane person would manage."

"Was I?" You look over at the skull trapped in the Silverglass jar, the Type Three only Lucy can speak to, and cringe as he pulls a grotesque face. "Right. Everything alright, George?"

"Lockwood's just called. He and Lucy have stocked up on more chains, filings, the sorts, and want us to meet them at the train station so we can head to the mansion. Better to get a feel for the place as soon as."

"Have you got the information you need?"

George takes off his glasses, cleaning the lenses on his jumper. "Some, but I'll admit, I don't feel good about this case. We've had even less time to prepare than we did for Combe Carey, and we're going in almost completely blind as to what we're facing. Will it be the ghosts of the family? Some other ones we don't know about?"

You can tell that the whole thing is frustrating him even more than he's showing. For George not to have found much on the mansion outwith what you got in the folder from the Rotwell archives, it must be infuriating. You know how much he hates not knowing things.

"Right," he says. "I'll get my shoes on, then we'll go."

And so you do.

Lockwood and Lucy are already at the station when you both arrive, hoisting heavy chains over their shoulders. By the time you reach them, you're sweating from carrying two kit bags plus Lucy's rucksack in which Skull resides. Your respect for Lucy has only increased after having to lug the heavy case around.

"Extra salt bombs are at the top of all the kit bags," you say, handing Lucy her bag and rucksack. "Your belts are also there, with even more salt bombs and pouches of the usual filings. Two sets of chains in mine and Lockwood's bags, one in Lucy's and George's. I've also put some snacks and tea in. Figured we'd get hungry before the night's even over."

Lockwood grins. "You're the best, (name)."

"I know I am. I wouldn't be here otherwise." You reach into your kit bag and pull out a paper bag, infinitely glad the contents haven't leaked. "Oh, also, milkshakes for everyone, courtesy of Arif."

You pass them around - strawberry and chocolate for Lucy, banana for George, your own unique recipe for yourself, and mint chocolate for Lockwood. It feels nice to hand them out, even nicer to have been able to remember their favourites.

Eventually, you all board the train, sipping milkshakes as the air conditioning whirs quietly. The train is packed with people going on holiday, but the four of you manage to get yourselves a table seat, thanks to your heavy kits and gleaming rapiers.

Although you're providing a vital service, you still get glares from some of the passengers. You remind them of exactly what they're trying to escape.

"So, what's new?" Lockwood asks.

George, who sits beside him, spreads his notes out along with a few sheets from the report and images of the house and its layout. Lucy moves his milkshake out of the way.

"Not much, honestly," George says. "Thanks, Lucy. Okay, well, like I said earlier, the source that had been found by the last team was here in the ballroom, but there has to be at least one more seeing as more ghosts attacked on their way out."

"So what are you thinking?" you ask.

He's got that sparkle in his eye again. "There are at least two ghosts left, a Wraith and a Phantasm, but I called up one of the maids who had been working at the mansion and asked her a few questions. She's younger, not young enough to still have any Talents, but her senses are still more heightened than her coworkers. She said the first time she felt one of the ghosts had been on the second floor, up where the servants' rooms are, when she was heading to bed. The second time, the feeling followed her around the house as she was finishing up.

"Another one of the maids was ghost-touched as she was leaving, right at the front doors. Thankfully, she was driven to the nearest hospital in time to get an adrenaline shot and she's in recovery now. Some of the others have commented about feeling like they're being followed or chased, but after the ghost-touch, none of them will set foot in the house."

Taking a sip of his milkshake, Lockwood says, "So, we've got ghosts immediately on the ground floor and then on the second floor, too. That leaves the first floor potentially safe, but we need to keep our wits about us. We'll all go floor by floor to check the place out, together to begin with, and then we'll work from there. Sound good?"

You all nod in agreement.

For a little bit after that, you're able to relax. You sit and sip your milkshakes, talking about this and that, poking fun at each other. It's nice being able to do so, to smile and laugh as if you're just regular kids, hanging out during the summer holidays like kids would've done so many years ago. You can pretend your rapiers and kit bags aren't there, replaced with rucksacks filled with snacks and games to play.

But the feeling is short-lived.

Soon enough, the train stops momentarily at a station, and you all file out, Lockwood leading the charge.

The fresh air, free of noise and air pollution, is incredible. You can smell freshly cut grass and a distinctly summer-like smell, and in the town that connects to the station, you can hear children squealing with glee. It should be lovely to be surrounded by such peace, but the taxi in front of you ruins it.

It's a big slab of black, with a young man in the driver's seat and, while it's different from the night cabs agents usually have to take, it makes you feel uneasy. This case is giving you a bad feeling, and this taxi is only going to take you closer.

It takes a lot of squishing for everyone to fit in the back of the taxi, but you manage eventually. Really, one of you should sit in the front passenger's seat - Lockwood - but the driver insists you'll all fit just fine.

"Ow, Lockwood, you're proper digging me into the door!" you grumble.

"I can't move! Lucy, shuffle over a touch."

"George is in the way!"

"Well, then, George, you move."

"I'm stuffed into the door, too! I can't move anywhere."

"Everybody comfy?" the driver asks. Before any of you even get the chance to reply, he says, "Good. Let's go. Where to?"

Lockwood shifts slightly, elbowing you in the ribs accidentally. "Elmview Estate, please."

The car jolts to a start, and suddenly you're whizzing down the roads at a speed that is probably illegal. You're not sure - you can't see the speed dial. Every twist and turn has you all jamming into each other, and multiple times you end up with Lockwood's elbow dug into some part of your body painfully. Yours does the same, but not every time is accidental, and Lockwood may have caught onto that fact.

If you were travelling a tad slower, you're sure the view would be beautiful as you leave the town and enter the countryside. The distant hills are a blur, and the trees move by so quickly they're but a blur of green. Once or twice, you pass groups of cyclists, and you're pretty shocked by the fact that the driver hasn't hit any of them.

To be honest, this guy's licence should probably be revoked.

But he gets you where you need to go. You reach the estate sooner than you should've which, at least, gives you more time to scope out the mansion. In a very strange way, you're all grateful for the guy.

"Don't tell anyone we were here," Lockwood says to the driver, handing him extra money.

"Gotcha. Stay safe, kiddos."

Then he's speeding off down the lane and out of sight.

George scoffs. "Kiddos. He's not even that much older than us."

Slowly, you all turn towards the house. It's a hulking beast of a thing, towering three storeys tall with massive windows on all floors. Balconies made of stone and wrought iron host beautiful flowering plants. A set of large white steps lead up to the large double doors, made from white metal of some sort and stained glass depicting some scene or another that, really, should be one of the most stunning things about the house. But it's smashed as though someone fell through it. Elm trees surround the house, bursting with green leaves that blow gently in the breeze.

"Lovely place," Lockwood says. "If it weren't haunted, I'd like to live here."

"You've nowhere near enough money," you remind him. "And what would you do with all the space? Imagine all the dusting you'd have to do."

"You sound like my mum," George grumbles. "Every time we used to pass a big house when I was a kid, it was: Oh, imagine all the dusting! I'd love to say I've got a mansion, but I'd hate the cleaning."

"I suppose that's why Yvette has maids," Lucy says, staring up at the house. "If you have the money to own a mansion, you have the money for hired help."

"This is all besides the point," Lockwood interrupts, although he's smiling. "We best get started, check out the house while it's light."

With a big, shared sigh, you all climb the steps into the house.

<- part 2 part 4 ->

#anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x reader #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co fanfiction #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #anthony lockwood #george karim #lucy carlyle #x reader #fanfiction #givemea-dam-break