#but my god since it has actual plot and shit its just going so slowly
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snippet time since i opened the ‘voleth meir possesses jask/the old witch sleep but make it witcher’ WIP
#bee stuff#i am desperate to finish this fic at some point#but my god since it has actual plot and shit its just going so slowly#i just checked and apparently i started writing it midway thru february#and then at the end of february i abandoned it and thought i wouldnt be able to ever get back to it and finish#but then once i started writing all the ficlets i got inspired to work on this one too so like#hopefully it will happen#its like 9k rn and still ways off from being finished#BUT I JUST LOVE THAT SONG SO MUCH AND HENCE FIC HAPPENED
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Gentle
warnings: smut, fluff, some plot??, p in v sex, reader has a vagina, sex pollen, rick being weirdly soft, established relationship, oral (m!recieving), kinda switch rick?? not proofread im tired its 3am.
a/n: hi guys, i know i havent updated in likeee..... a little over a year.... but im back and ermmm i kinda forgot how to write. this is a little rushed bc im tired and too lazy to check anything but enjoy while i write more for rick😊😊
Your boyfriend, Rick, had been in a lot of pain since his last adventure with Morty. You couldn't recall what his jumbled words were saying but you heard him in the garage rummaging around doing something.
Walking into the garage, you wrapped your hands around his waist, watching as he let out a triumphant noise. He had created a pill.
He quickly brought water and took the pill.
Nothing seemed to change at first, surprisingly. He was still in slight ache, his back, his neck, his black eye, his arm, his...
Oh my God.
"S-Shit." He cursed under his breath, rummaging through his work bench carelessly and for once, without a thought. "I.. eeurp- I fucked- I messed up, b-babe."
"Since when'd you mess up?" You laughed, not really believing him, looking down at the floor before catching a glimpse of his crotch. He had a raging boner.
"See. I messed up."
"I still don't get it, Rick." This was honestly the hardest you've ever seen him, you couldn't conjure up a decent guess as to what just happened.
"Uh- I k-eerp-inda, sorta, m-mayyybeee cre- made a pill w-with some sort of sex pollen. Uh," Rick awkwardly puckered his lips, fingers tapping against each other. "A-And you might have to fuck it out of me."
You sighed. He always makes things seem more serious than they are. Prior to this whole thing, you were actually coming down to the garage to see if your boyfriend wanted to spend some alone time, away from the Beth, Jerry, and the kids.
So this was right up your alley.
You didn't even notice Rick had walked up to you until you felt his chapped lips against yours. Sighing into the kiss, his hands grabbed at your hips roughly. You would've complained, but given the situation, you understood he couldn't control himself.
His hands roamed your body, squeezing your ass, rubbing his hand over your hip dips, your neck, jaw, lower back, nowhere was untouched at this point.
Finally, he had released the kiss, realizing you couldn't breathe.
"Y/N.." Nothing could have prepared you for his aggression. Quickly picking you up and pressing you against the garage door.
He had used his other hands to swiftly remove your tank top and shorts, smirking once he noticed that you had no bra or panties on, "Y-You wh- whore."
Rick's robotic arms got to work on his lower half, disgarding his jeans and boxers.
"Rick, please.." The garage was dark, only dim with the small lightbulb in the middle. It was around 2.A.M at this point and it hadn't crossed your mind that the garage echoed, "wait.."
"Wha-What's up?" He belched right after.
"Wouldn't everyone hear us? I mean.. the garage-"
"I'm not dumb, b-babe. The garage is on soundproof mode."
He let go of you. You looked up at him with doe eyes, his cock twitched at the sight of you looking up at him because of your height difference.
You got onto your knees quickly, keeping eye-contact the whole time while taking his cock in your hands.
Rick groaned, looking down at you as his hand went into your hair. Stroking his cock slowly, he sighed, eyelids dropping down heavily over his eyes. Your mouth watered at the feel of him and you whimpered impatiently, darting your tongue out to lick his tip.
His slender fingers tangled into your hair, murmuring sweet praises in pure awe when he caught sight of you holding onto his hips and attempting to deepthroat his entire length.
Ricks cock had hit the back of your throat and you heard a throaty whine escape his lips. Immediately looking up and stopping your motions.
"Aw, did you just whine??" You had smiled up at him and he swore he almost came at the sight alone, his eyes watery from the lost sensation.
"P-Please- urrp- co-continue."
You thought about it for a second, a finger to your lip, "how about something better?"
"B-Baby..." Rick whispered,
You looked up at him, bringing your lips to his tip, kissing it. You continued to kiss down his length until you got to his base, going up his abdomen and to his chest.
Your grin made his cock twitch. Hands flying to his chest and pushing him on top of his work bench, he almost yelled in protest until he realized you were climbing on top of him, perfectly straddling his hips.
He groaned at the action, "Fuck, Y/N.."
You held yourself up with your knees, grabbing ahold of his cock and lining it up with your wet entrance, teasing him a bit by rubbing his dick in between your folds and over your swollen clit.
You both moaned at the act. Hands gripping his shoulders while he took over, slowly lowering your hips onto his groin.
Whining at the sudden intrusion, Rick kissed your temple to try and soothe the pain of the stretch in your lower belly. After a few minutes or so, Ricks hand rested on your hip once more, "Y-You ready, baby?"
Nodding, he started thrusting up into you, both moaning at the initial sting. His eyes darted up to yours and tried to maintain eye contact knowing you couldn't from all the pleasure.
"Rick.." You gasped before bringing your lips to his in a slow, passionate kiss.
He'd never been so gentle with you, usually having to deal with quickies was okay with you but you've always pondered how it would've felt to have him take his time with you. Not be so quick to finish. It's not like you were a secret, no, his whole family knew. Almost everyone supported, almost, Jerry had never been so supportive of it.
His work and adventures always came in the way of your sex life. Sure, you were fulfilled. You were more than fulfilled, but that never stopped your thoughts as to how it'd feel to not rush.
I guess todays your lucky day.
His lips moved down to your neck and your heart thumped. This was so.. different. In a good way. His thrusts picked up speed and fervor.
"S-Shit.. God, y-you're ti-" he cut his own sentence off with a moan and straining his eyes shut while he buried his head in your shoulder, "tight.. oh my God."
He was absolutely in heaven and so were you. This new feeling had you addicted to his dick. Rick sighed sweet nothings into your ear. His cock hit your g-spot with every movement and it was absolutely wonderful.
Your stomach felt on fire. Literally. You knew you were close but you weren't used to this amount of pleasure.. ever. Feeling his cock twitch against your walls, you knew he was closw, deciding to bounce on his cock to speed up your guys release. You were desperate.
Both of you were letting out the most salacious sounds that you were starting to think that Ricks garage wasn't able to contain the noises inside the room much longer.
"R-Rick.. I'm close- shit!"
Cursing, Ricks cock spasmed. He threw his head back down againsg your shoulder and you tried to praise him, but nothing coherent came out as your own orgasm was approaching. He spurted his seed inside you, digging his fingernails into your soft hip and you almost gasped at the warm feeling. The feeling that led you to your release.
Your brain fogged up and your jaw went slack at the pressure waves of your orgasm. His hands rubbing at your arms, smiling at you as your sex contracted around his dick. You'd never fallen this hard from sex with Rick. It wasn't ever this intense in a gentle way. You knew it would be back to quickies but you still hoped it wouldn't be the last time you'd felt this good.
Once you both calmed down a bit, he rose his head and kissed your cheek lovingly, his lips were wet and swollen and slightly pinker than usual. You smiled at him warmly, cuddling up against his chest.
"F-Fuck, sweet-urrp-heart.." His chest vibrated from his deep voice and weirdly enough, you almost fell asleep from it.
"Tha.. That felt really good, Rick.."
"It did." His arms wrapped around you, his cock softening inside you. His hands traveled up and groped your breast, pecking kisses all over it.
"I love you, Rick," You brushed your lips against his, hand tangling into his hair, "so much, baby.."
His lips captured yours in yet another soft, passionate kiss, his scarred lips felt amazing on yours. Your hands moved towards his cheek, loving the feeling of being so passionately intimate with him.
He broke the kiss, tucking a hair behind your ear, smiling, "I.. I-I love you too, Y/N."
Needless to say, you guys slept in the garage that night.
#rick sanchez#rick and morty#rick sanchez smut#rick sanchez x reader#rick sanchez fluff#rick sanchez imagines#smut#fluff#rick sanchez oneshot#imagines#oneshots#y/n#rick sanchez x y/n
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New York, I Love You.
Summary: Eddie plans a trip to NYC for your anniversary, but becomes distant once you land in the city that never sleeps. You know he's hiding something, but you're not sure what.
Genre: fluff, angst, older!Eddie
Warnings: mention of depression/intrusive thoughts
A/N: I'm getting married in 2 weeks (fucking yikes), so I wrote something based on my fiancé's actual proposal to take my mind off of planning shit for two fucking seconds.
“Have you heard about the theory that Van Gogh didn’t actually kill himself?” You chime, looking over the museum map, eagerly tracing an invisible tour path through the winding galleries.
“You’ve only told me about it a million times over the past seven years,” Eddie chuckles as he stares down the entranceway of the Museum of Modern Art. The two of you look incredibly out of place; stark white walls, juxtaposed with tattoos and leather. The soft squeak of your Docs reverberate through the winding hallway, adding to the anxiety that’s been building since stepping foot in New York City two days ago. Something was off with Eddie, but you couldn’t put a finger on it. It started at the airport, he had stopped talking after getting to the gate; chalking it up to nerves about flying, you ignored it. The first day in the city was the same, barely any conversation unless you initiated it, and even less physical affection on his part. Maybe he was still tired from the trip, or maybe he just hated the city? A third reason rears its ugly head and starts to burrow deep inside your conscious; maybe he was getting tired of you. After seven years of being together, of cohabitating in a small apartment outside of Hawkins, of two cats and a dog later, maybe the love of your life was pushing away.
A hand on the small of your back snaps your attention back to the map. The 1880-1940’s collection is on the 5th floor, allowing you to traverse through the rest of the museum before seeing the one piece this entire trip was centered around.
———
New York City was actually Eddie’s idea, though it doesn’t seem so from his current disconnected behavior. A few months prior he had bounded into the living room, smiling like he had just won the lottery.
“Baby,” he sang in his best, most innocent voice, “how would you feel about going to New York City in July?”
Your head slowly rose from the book you were buried in. His particular tone was usually only reserved for when he was already in trouble, or plotting something mischievous.
“What’s your angle, Munson?” Shifting forward on the couch, your eyes narrow in suspicion.
Hand over heart, he looks at you with faux offense, “How dare you think so little of me. I just think we should do something cool for our anniversary this year.”
All your wariness fades to glowing endearment.
“Oh Eds, that’d be amazing! Of course I’d love to go to New York!”
His face relaxes as he huffs out a relieved breath, “Oh thank god, ‘cause I already bought plane tickets—“
You smile at him, impressed that he had actually planned something ahead of time instead of waiting until the last minute like usual. You’ve been together almost 7 years, and as time went on celebrating your anniversary became less and less theatrical, now consisting of take-out from your favorite Chinese place and a movie of unanimous choosing. Low-key, comfortable, but still full of love, just like you and Eddie.
“—and I also reserved two tickets for the Museum of Modern Art.”
Your eyes almost pop out of your head, “That’s where—“
“—Starry Night is. I know, that’s why I’m taking you there.” He flops down onto the couch, throwing a casual arm around your shoulders as you melt into him.
For your entire life, or at least as long as you can remember, Van Gogh has been your favorite artist. Doing master-copies of his paintings in high school, trying to hard to get his technique just right, obsessing over his use of color to convey emotion. In college you majored in Art History, specializing in Post-Impressionism, spending long nights pouring over books about Vincent’s life and background. As much as you love his work, his story made him that much more intriguing. How a man struggled with such a tragic life and still managed to see the beauty in the world was nothing less than astounding.
You’ve seen a few of Van Gogh’s pieces in person at museums in the tri-state area, but you haven’t traveled much further. Money’s been tight ever since you and Eddie moved in together a few years ago, but you’ve always had the bug, itching to go far away and see the world with all it has to offer. Eddie shares the same desire, always talking about dream trips and planning fake vacations, waiting for the day you can make them a reality.
“Eddie, where did you get the money for this?” The thought of possibly spending rent money on plane tickets makes you panic, but he’s is quick to shrug it away.
“I picked up some extra shifts at the shop, we’re fine don’t worry.”
———
Eddie is usually very physically affectionate, constantly having a hold somewhere on your body; but through 4 floors of galleries he hasn’t so much as touched your hand. The lack of contact is all you can think about, barely able to take in any of the artwork you’ve traveled all this way to see. As you make your way to the 5th floor, Eddie trudges behind silently. The awkward tension is killing you, and you’re not sure how much more you can take.
Turning into the 1880s gallery, a small crowd of people gather around the far corner. A glimpse of familiar cerulean and marigold swirls, the same brushstrokes you’ve studied for years, peaks over the top of their heads. You swiftly push to the front, and all of the air is crushed from your lungs.
It’s other-worldly.
Every photo you’ve ever seen of The Starry Night doesn’t do it justice, not even remotely. The peaks of paint that dot the surface of the canvas, the brightness of each color, none of it can be properly depicted on the pages of a textbook. After so many years of studying this painting, seeing it in the flesh is almost like seeing an old friend. There’s a calmness in it, admiration mixed with giddiness.
You’re close to tears as you feel Eddie’s presence beside you.
“It’s amazing…” his voice is low, partly because of the subdued setting, but also in awe.
All you can muster is a nod as your eyes drag over every inch of the painting, committing it to memory.
You have to practically rip yourself away, buzzing from the entire experience.
Eddie waits by the entranceway with his hands in his front pockets, “Do you wanna go get dinner? I’m starving.”
“Sure,” still unnerved by his demeanor, your tone is stoic and emotionless, “Where do you wanna go?”
He scratches the back of his neck, something only done when he’s uncomfortable, “Uh, there’s this pub across 52nd if that’s cool?”
An audible stomach growl answers for you.
Eddie keeps a few feet of distance between your bodies, weaving through groups of people on the crowded sidewalk. You’ve never seen this many people in your life, even at college in Indianapolis. Growing up in Indiana, your hometown was so small that everyone knew each other, same with Eddie’s upbringing in Hawkins. City life always intrigued you, and up until this moment you had thought of Indianapolis as a “big city”; but it was nothing compared to New York. After high school you moved away to college to study art, choosing Indiana University for its busier atmosphere.
A month after graduating with your BFA, you met Eddie by accident. Moving back home to live with your parents was the last thing you wanted, but finding a good paying job was proving to be more difficult than anticipated.
Depression started to sink it’s disgusting claws into your psyche; you felt like a failure.
One night, in a valiant attempt to bring some joy back into your life, your best friend dragged you to a bar in the next town over; the promise of live music and alcohol extremely enticing. Hawkins wasn’t known for much, except for the weird rumors about mysterious disappearances over the years, so you weren’t expecting much from this hole-in-the-wall bar. The Hideout was kind of gross, but in an almost endearing way. The floors were sticky and the air almost unbreathable, but the staff was kind, despite their rough appearances. The bartender chatted the two of you up for while, making jokes and letting you sample whatever beer you wanted to try, all while some metal band played on the rickety stage in the back.
A little before midnight, the band had packed up and the crowd inside thinned out to just regulars and a few drunk stragglers. As you sat at the bar and waited for your friend to get back from the bathroom, a stranger sat next to you and ordered a beer, greeting the bartender like an old friend. After exchanging a few light-hearted jabs, the stranger smiled and looked over at you.
“Cheers—“ he holds out the neck of the bottle towards you.
Taken aback by his boldness, you return a small grin, “Cheers to what?”
He shrugs, sucking his teeth in thought for a second, “To metal? To surviving another gig? I dunno.”
The guitar pick around his neck catches your eye, “Was that your band playing earlier?”
He gives a shy nod, smile stretching wider and accentuating a dimple on his left cheek.
“You guys sounded really good,” You hold out your own bottle towards him.
“I’ll cheers to that,” he taps against yours, a small clink echoing in the almost empty bar.
“I’m Eddie, by the way.”
“Y/n. It’s nice to meet you, Eddie.” Normally, you would rather die than talk to a random person at a bar, but there was something about this boy that drew you in. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was how ethereal he looked under the neon bar signs, either way you were captivated.
You stayed at the Hideout longer than intended, long after your friend had decided to go home. Eddie made you laugh with stupid jokes and weird stories, sharing your mutual love of horror movies and fantasy books. You were so enthralled that you hadn’t even noticed it was closing time. Apologizing to the bartender, you asked to use their phone to call a cab. Eddie immediately offered to drive you home, promising he wasn’t a serial killer when you profusely questioned him.
The drive was filled with loud music and scream-singing on both of your parts, Eddie drumming on the steering wheel to the beat as you headbanged beside him. When he pulled up at your parents house, you quickly pulled a pen out of your bag, scribbling your phone number onto his forearm. He winked before driving away, having stayed a few extra minutes to make sure you got inside safely. Every thought for the rest of the night was consumed by Eddie; something was tying you to him, and you wanted to follow that invisible tether all the way to the end.
———
The 52nd Street pub was empty, something that was shocking upon entry, but you were nonetheless a little grateful for it. The quiet was a welcome change from the overwhelming sounds of New York, a small corner of solitude in the center of the city that never sleeps. Welcome almost as much, are the beers that you and Eddie down immediately.
Though he normally cannot stop talking, Eddie is being uncharacteristically mute. You have to practically drag out any bit of conversation, forcing small talk until the food arrives and you can focus on that instead.
After a silent meal, the portly older waiter drops off your check and strikes up a conversation with Eddie about your trip and why you were visiting. Eddie put on his polite voice, smiling and laughing along with man’s questions. This stranger was receiving more from him than you had in days.
The nagging voice in your head struck up again: he’s tired of you.
You stopped paying attention to Eddie’s side-conversation as annoyance consumed you. There was an emerging throb in your head, the physical pain matching the emotional hurt of Eddie’s complete disdain towards you. At this point, all you wanted was to go home.
The sun was setting as you walk out onto the corner of 52nd, and you squint down the street searching for a cab.
“Hey—“ Eddie smiled at you for what seems like the first time all day, “—wanna go to Central Park?” He points down the street, and you can make out the tops of the trees seven blocks away.
You shake your head, “I’m really tired, and my head is killing me. I’d rather just go back to the hotel honestly.”
Eddie’s face falls a little, and you feel slightly guilty, but then remember how uninterested he was all day.
Again, he glances towards the park, “Are you sure? It’s just a few blocks away—“
“No, Eddie. I just want to go back to the room.” Your voice was stern, annoyed that he only now wanted to spend time with you. A yellow cab crested over the next block, and you raise a hand to get the drivers attention.
“I would rather share one lifetime with you—“ Eddie mumbles behind you. Only half listening, you swear he’s grumbling about not being able to go to the park, and it sets off a rage flare.
“—What?” You snap your head around to face him, eyes narrow and angry, bracing yourself for an argument.
He’s standing a few feet away, one hand in his pocket, the other holding up a diamond ring. Your lungs constrict, an audible gasp escaping as you stare at him wide-eyed. He grins sheepishly as you freeze in place.
“Eddie…what?”
“I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone,” He repeats, returning your stare with his soft brown eyes.
“…are you seriously quoting Lord of the Rings to me right now?” You laugh, all tension leaving your body.
“Did you expect anything less from me?” His deep eyes search yours, silencing the menacing voice in your head, “Marry me, Y/n. I love you more than anything—“
“—more than Gollum loves his precious?”
Eddie rolls his eyes and snorts, “Obviously, you fucking nerd.”
Scoffing dramatically, you smile and take the ring from his outstretched hand, sliding it onto your finger.
“Of course I’ll marry you, Eddie Munson. I thought you’d never ask.”
Finally, after days of anxiety and frustration, he kisses you, smiling the entire time. You can almost physically feel the stress leave his body as you hold onto him.
Pulling back you grab his hand, interlocking your fingers, “Is this why you’ve been acting weird?”
He chuckles, “Yeah, I was super nervous. I honestly planned on doing it in front of The Starry Night, but I freaked out when I saw how many people were around.”
Your heart soars at the sentiment, and you look down at your hand in his, the little diamond sparkling in the fading sunlight.
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#eddie munson edit#eddie munson smut#eddie munson stranger things#eddie munson x you#stranger things fanfic#eddie x y/n#Eddie Munson x reader#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson au#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson x fem! reader#older!eddie#Eddie Munson angst
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Ok i give up, here is the au i thought about in the post about my D&D character
So basically, its a ✨️Gods and Mortals✨️ kind of au (it also has nothing to do with my actual dnd character lmao)
At first i had a very different idea for this au tbh, but now i have a clearer view on where and how i want this to work
Eclipse is a preschool teacher and a daycare robot, his job is to care for the roudies children and take some weight off of the teacher's shoulders
One day, everything was normal, he gets his ass isekai'd into another world. Why? Because i say so
Jk he probably died somehow like in all isekai stories
To save him are the god of the stars, and the god of planets, those being Sun and Moon, who take a liking on this funny looking mortal and send him on an adventure with them as patrons
Sun and moon are two weirdos and being gods they do not really. Percieve. Eclipse as its own thinking being
This is not a plot point, actually, it's just to specify that Sun sees Eclipse as how you'd see a cute pet, while Moon as how you'd see a toddler of someone you barely know
They also have wildly different approaches when they talk with Eclipse, Sun does babyvoices at him, while Moon is the incarnation of the babysitter who tapes the baby to the wall and asks them if they want a beer
Sun is Eclipse's patron during the day and companion during the night, Moon is the other way around
Eclipse slowly loses his patience and gets progressively sassier and less keen to take shit from anyone he sees
Picture Gertrude from 'I Hate Fairyland', Eclipse is stuck in that world since months and has ho idea how to go back to his own, his "patrons" are not helping and anyone he meets is either a normal person or the worst weirdo he has ever run into
So he goes slowly from "ok now lets calm down and talk this out ok? We don't want anyone getting hurt ^^" to "i cast fuck you and your family!"
This is a sandbox au, so there is no real story, just some beasts to put in situations
If you want to know what they look like, Eclipse is the same eclipse from my 'sun and moonless' au/fic
Sun and Moon on the other hand appear as these titanic and imposing beings when they are in their real form, and as regular sun and moon when they take the 'shape of eclipse' (as they call it)
Sun wears a white tunic and a red scarf both as a god and as a "mortal", in his god form the tunic fades into clouds! his head is a half sphere and from behind rays and light come out, it looks like he is wearing a floating crown but you can't really tell because he is too bright. Also je probably has like, a few tens of eyes, but uses only between 2 and 5 at the same time usually
Moon on the other hand does not even have a real head as a god! His head is a clpud of space dust and darkness with a thousand stars inside, you can also see the moon where his head would be, and it always shows the same side no matter where you look at him from (it also shows the current lunar phase); he has eyes tho!
Moon wears a dark cape, and the cloud from his head forms a train behind him that looks like a night sky (similar to a nun's headwear in appearence)
When i draw anything good for this au i will post it because i keep imagining it with walt disney old comic books artstyle but I CAN'T REPLICATE IT
#not an ask#fnaf#fnaf moon#fnaf sun#fnaf sb#fnaf eclipse#fnaf au#five nights at freddy's#fnaf dca#fnaf daycare attendant#gods and mortals au#someone please help eclipse he is TRYING
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Days late but i'm reading the Q&A and i cannot tell if this guy is just Taking The Piss it slowly going mad from adapting it or if he's actually semi-incompetent
I saw a post about it and lots of people were. super mad abt it especially since the adaptation made so many changes. i have no strong thoughts but i also do not think generally so I Have No Input. ultimately i don't even know how much creative control he has, or what "the original author approved of the changes" means.
i genuinely. from the q&a cannot tell if he is trying to take the piss or just does not know how to read. i'm trying to be neutral because I Know Nothing. but this is more like the political side of webcomic discussions and you're probably more the socio-economic side so
oh don't worry nonnie! i have plenty of strong thoughts about it for the both of us :))
i hesitate a lot to criticize anyone's artwork because i know how hard art can be. and i personally have no real experience adapting from one medium to another so i'm even more apprehensive of speaking about something i know very little of.
but oh boy did the q&a dash away all of my reservations.
forgive me for taking your ask as an excuse to rant about it but i wanna thoroughly dissect it (derogatory)
i cannot tell if this guy is just Taking The Piss it slowly going mad from adapting it or if he's actually semi-incompetent
i don't think he's taking the piss. i think he's being completely earnest about thinking he's doing a good job at adapting tged. i think he genuinely thinks he's cracked the code on how to make a good adaptation.
i think he's completely wrong
here's what i mean. this is his answer when asked what's the most important part to keep in mind when adapting something:
now, this doesn't sound bad at first. i'll give him that, at first glance, this looks like pretty decent advice. when making something, especially a work of fiction, it's pretty tempting to guide yourself by a 'what will the audience like?' mentality. and it's not a bad thing to want your content to be engaging, that's half of the challenge of making anything made to consumed.
but to consider it the most important part of the creative process?? to create or adapt a story based on what it's 'entertaining' instead of what you're trying to convey to your audience??
especially when this is what you think is what you should be focusing on
like. sir. is that really what you're worrying about. really.
that last panel is especially infuriating to me because. why does he care so much about making the episodes funny. why is that his most pressing concern. there are so many things that are way more important than the comedy, like character development, relationship building, plot foreshadowing, a million other things and instead he just. cares about whether the latest episode was funny or not.
tged is a fun novel, it has so many funny moments but if asked i would not say it was a comedy. and it certainly never seemed to make an effort to make sure all of its chapters were funny.
so why on god's green earth does he seem to believe the adaptation needs to be over all other things funny.
why was that the direction he decided to take.
and i for one i'm almost absolutely certain it was his decision to go that route.
especially because this was his answer at being asked if he felt any pressure regarding the characters or plot development.
nunca quise madrear a alguien mas que a este pinche monillo
he does go on to say all the changes were approved by bk moon but like. god what a way to confirm that he didn't a single shit about the characters and plot beyond making something he personally found funny lmaooo
and then this!! this!!
the way he's admitting that he's changing whatever he feels like because as long as he 'doesn't stray too far from the central storyline' it doesn't matter,,,, because he already knows the ending and so as long as he can check off some boxes regarding the plot it doesn't really matter what happens in between,,, i wanna wring his neck so bad,,,
i already ranted about it in the tags before but you can't take a story and assume that as long as you get from point A to point B the parts in between don't matter. that's not how it works.
the ending of a story is the culmination of all the emotional and narrative build up you've done through the entire length of your work. is all the character moments, relationship growth and plot development that you've carefully sown in your story coming together to finally deliver what you've build up.
yes, the ending is an absolute masterpiece. because it has en entire novel of build up before it. because it took its time to make the audience engage earnestly with its characters and its plot. because it didn't make fun of itself at every moment possible and instead took itself seriously when the narrative called for it.
because the novel was telling a story and it wanted us to be invested on it beyond a superficial 'haha funny man makes ugly faces' reaction.
and because lee hyunmin is too busy wondering if every chapter is as funny as possible he's not doing the work needed to make sure the ending delivers the absolute gut punch and emotional catharsis it does on the novel.
he thinks he can just fuck around his way through the plot and still reap the same rewards bk moon did with the novel.
and if he keeps going like this he's not gonna be able to.
but that's just my opinion of course <3
#hey i got an ask#Anonymous#tged#the greatest estate developer#again. i am so sorry i took your ask to rant about this nonnie akjshdkja#i'm also curious about what you mean by your ask being more about the political side of the webcomic#and me being more about the socio-economic side of it. it sounds fascinating!! i wanna know more 👀
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Jacob Stone x Reader || Oneshot
Plot: You're sick and tired of constant jobs. I mean- you'll go, of course you will. There are people who need your help. But god--
All you want to do is still stay at home and make out with your hot artistic cowboy boyfriend on a Saturday. Is that s o much to ask??
Warnings: Sexual references maybe. Tiny ones.
🔆🔆🔆
The blinds are drawn shut, the room dark except for the shock of white daytime light slipping inside through the crack in the curtains; bars of white painting the middle of the bed and a strip of Jake's back a brighter colour. Music is playing softly in the background, something mellow and non-distracting that Jake picked since its his place- his stereo- his tunes.
You're laid out on the bed all-comfy, a pillow under the arch of your back and your legs wrapped around a beer-barrel waist and Jakes on top of you; holding himself up so he doesn't crush you, but ehhhh still crushing you a little. You love it.
A gentle, relaxed moan slips out of you when he parts from your lips for a second to take a tiny breath and switch sides, before pressing his soft mouth back to yours and slipping his talented tongue back between your lips; kissing you slowly, like the passionate poet he is.
-then suddenly a loud, obnoxious ringtone sounds and you're so surprised; you jump! You knock your forehead into Jake's and nip his bottom lip! "Ah! Shit- " Well, a little more then a nip. You actually bit him!-
"I'm sorry!" You exclaim, shocked and guilty as you both sit up and you watch him wide, worried eyes as he touches where you bit him. When he finds no blood, he just shrugs; flashing you a grin. An amused grin. Amused, at your panic (Like you're so fricken cute). "I'm so so sorry- "
"Don't worry about it. Now," His gaze wonders over to his phone on the dresser, and your heart falls; remembering the ringtone. Your hopes for a quiet, slow morning are crushed. "What was that?" As Jake reaches past you for the phone and presses answer, pressing it to his ear and straightening up again, you give a sigh.
"One guess." You pout, wrapping your arms around your knees and hugging them to your chest, a bored and annoyed look on your face as you watch him.
His eyebrows lift up hearing what's said through the phone that you cant hear, and he nods; Going into business mode. Damn. You were right- Without needing to know what exactly is being said, you let your legs hang over the side of the bed, touch the ground, and get up. You begin your search for your pants, still with that frustrated look on your face. Where did they end up last night??... We watched Dracula, I kicked off my shoes, then we went to sleep and I wiggled outta my jeans... ha! Over there- "Really?... Huh. Okay, yeah, Y/N'll meet ya at the library in 10- "
Jake stops talking, and you're not sure why, til you turn around and catch him looking at you. You raise your brows, like what?
"What's that look on your face?" He hisses (Well, mutters so whoever's on the other end of the phone cant hear him- but in his voice it sounds like a low, husky hiss), his eyebrows knitting together. He's already dressed, having been up writing on his laptop beside you when you finally ended your (Much deserved) sleep-in; and you kind of resent him for it. He's all put-together, he doesn't need a break- he's happy to go on another life-or-death mission right away! At the drop of a hat! As he should be! But you?? You feel like Grumpy the dwarf after a cut-short hibernation. All you want is to stay in bed with your cowboy and make out. Or sleep. Or watch more old movies. It doesn't really matter what you do, so long as its in bed.
You feel like you've been on missions non-stop lately; risking your life in a million different ways. It feels like you're fighting to survive so much that you're forgetting why.
"Nothing," You shrug, turning away again and grabbing your pants. After all, you cant complain. You're helping people! People need you, and Eve, and Jake and the other librarians. That fact is not lost on you, and honestly most of the time you love doing what you do--
But sometimes you're just... tired. Like today.
Eh, you'll get over it you guess.
"Nah. Nah nah nah- its not nothin'." You feel Jake's hand wrap around your wrist and pull you to him where he's moved to sit at the end of the bed. To the phone, he gives a quick 'call you back cass', before chucking it backwards on the bed and drawing you in closer; not once taking his intense eyes off of you. Usually you love those eyes, and honestly you do now too, but they are so full of smarts that you do sometimes you feel overwhelmed. Like you don't even have to talk- he already knows what's going on. And sometimes, like now, you just don't want him to know everything! "Tell me."
"Its really nothin- "
"Don't say that again," he shakes his head; a flicker of annoyance. "Go on, tell me."
You give him a look. "... no, I'm awful."
"First of all, you're the opposite." He brushes over that self deprecation quickly, nipping it in the bud before you can even truly feel it. "What? What- You don't wanna go to the library??"
"I- " How do you explain without sounding silly? Huffing out a sigh, you slip your wrists out of Jake's grip and run your hands through your hair. "I'm just tired, I guess. I know! Thats not an excuse to not save the world from monsters, or gods, or whatever the hell else wants to take over today- I know that. But I'm just- so- ughhh."
Slipping out from between his knees, you slump down on the edge of the bed beside him instead; dropping your face in your hands and your elbows onto your thighs. You don't doubt Jake's focused art-critic's eyes on the whole time. Analysing you like some old Rembrandt. Seeing your shame. "My bones feel heavy." You say, quietly.
A moment passes before you feel one of his hands on your back, rubbing up and down; working out the tight stress-filled knots in there. Then you hear his voice, but he's not talking to you??
"Hi again Cass- yeah, uh, on second thoughts we're actually gonna sit this one out. You guys got this, right?" Immediately you sit up stock-straight, turning to Jake with wide eyes. What?? You mouth, horrified.
He gives you a mystified look back. Mouths 'what?' back at you.
Your jaw drops.
"No no no- we can go! We can go! We can definitely- Thats not what I was saying." What is he doing?!? They need you two! They need him, for definite! Just because you're tired, doesn't mean you can just chuck a sickie!- "We have to go, Jake, don't- " When you reach for the phone to tell Cassandra that he's joking and you'll be there, Jake catches your hand and leans away from you, finishing up the call and preventing you from stopping him.
"Yeah yeah yeah, great. Thanks, Cass! Goodluck! Call me if you need us- yeah- bye!"
Then he hangs up and chucks the phone behind the bed, between the wall under the window and the mattress, where you cant get it.
You're half considering diving after it, but Jake starts rubbing comforting circles into your knuckles and you turn your gaze back to him; shocked and confused.
"... but- " Before you can argue with this decision, Jake leans over and kisses you. Its warm and slow and almost as good as before, making your head all fuzzy and quiet. He pulls back, and you struggle to open up your eyes again. ... still- "But-"
"Come on." Jake gives a comforting grin, a devastatingly handsome cowboy grin that makes your insides turn into mush and your shoulders relax. And he's still rubbing your back, so you're feeling so so sleepy and slow. "You're tired- I get it. We've been on mission after mission for weeks. Almost 2 months. And you've been so damn good with it, savin' our asses at least 10 times. They'll be fine without us this time, you know that." He assures you, which makes sense now that you're calm enough to hear it- they will be fine without the two of you. You all take individual jobs all the time, and besides- they have Flynn this time. Your perfect, sweet boyfriend gives a shrug of those broad shoulders of his. "'nd you deserve a break."
... taking hold of his hands, you lean in and press your forehead to his. "So do you." You say earnestly, gaze flickering over the bags under his beautiful eyes.
"Yeah. So lets do that, huh? Together. C'mon," When Jake gets up abruptly, letting go of one of your hands but keeping the other to tug you up with, rubbing those comforting circles back into your skin, you look up with curious eyes at him. "Lets getcha a cup a tea, or somethin'. Whadaya want? I'll order."
"Mmm... " You close your eyes and think, a tiny grin twitching onto your lips. "Um... pancakes." Pancakes sound like absolute heaven right now. Fluffy, and drenched in syrup, with some strawberries??
"Aw yeah, that sounds freaken good, actually."
When you open your eyes again and see him smiling, you nod and wrap your arms around his neck. You're thinking about pancakes, and restful bones, but also how good Jacob smells. And his weight on top of you. And the romantic timeless way he kisses. "Uhuh." He wraps his own around your waist, pulling you in against him. "... but first,"
"Hm?" He grunts, your noses brushing against eachother and him suddenly becoming quite distracted; being so close to your lips. "Wha?"
"... 20 more minutes in bed."
Immediately he nods, guiding you back onto the mattress and crawling over on top of you, adjusting your hips back over the pillow so you're comfortable. "Forty, at least."
#this is my first attempt at jake!! be kind!! 😅#Jacob Stone x Reader Oneshot#Jacob Stone x Reader#Jacob Stone#Jake Stone x Reader Oneshot#Jake Stone x Reader#Jake Stone#The Librarians#The Librarians x Reader#The Librarians x Reader Oneshot
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Let's Rewind! Toast Watches Voltron: Defender of The Universe (1984)
Season 1, Episode 39: The Captive Comet
Season 1, Episode 40: The Little Prince
Episode 39: The Captive Comet
OH BOY IS THIS THE EPISODE I THINK IT IS, THIS IS GONNA BE FUN
Opening with Haggar dishing out some lore, yes please
universe started with a big bang and that apparently created a comet that acted like a black hole that at some point Voltron banished to a far corner of the universe
inch resting
this was a fairy tale for drule children? i wonder how that story would've gone
ROMELLE WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN IVE MISSED YOU SO MUCH
"take it easy zarkon, eaaaasy"
Haggar smokes weed for sure
she sacrificed a star fleet to be able to control the comet, another thing that feels so similar to a plot point in vf
did they just pull Romelle out of her cell just to let her freak out about the omega comet heading to arus 😭 what a petty move lotor
smart cookie, she found a way to contact the team before getting found out
"human on arus" so is arus like a colony of earths that slowly became its own governing body? Inch resting, they will still be aliens to me though
how does Coran know about the secret plan that happened before voltron split into lions if he only found out voltron after it was split into 5?? I'm gonna make this lore make sense by the end of the episode I swear
early voltron formation, shits about to get real
oh man they already got to the comet? also why did Allura look so young in that scene?
Keith: maybe your right
Lance: I know im right!
get his ass lance
the secret plan is to go 4 sector power setting?? oh this is so a trap
YEAH ITS A TRAP THEY'RE GETTING SUCKED INTO THE COMET AND LOTOR USED ROMELLE TO GET VOLTRON TO DO IT WHAT THAT WAS SUCH A GOOD PLAN
oh man voltron is trapped trapped for realises this time, he can't even get out of the comet's gravity
ofc they contacted the alliance for help, and they'd rather let Voltron die instead of giving any help
"ill see what i can do" literally i want the alliance broken
PRINCE BANDOR COMING IN TO HELP THE TEAM LETS GOO
again i need to make this lore make sense and by the end of this show i fucking will
YES I WAS RIGHT THEY'RE DEAD THE TEAM ACTUALLY DIED OH MY GOD YESS THIS IS SUCH A GOOD EPISODE
and now an entire fleet of doom (lol) is heading towards Arus
IS THAT THE END OF THE EPISODE HOLY SHIT
/episode end
Episode 40: The Little Prince
TWO PART EPISODE LETS GO
recaap time since this was a weekly premiering show
literally starting off with an invasion of Arus now that Voltron is gone, this is wild especially because it's not even the season finale
"Coran made the situation worse by calling Prince Bandor for help" I HATE THE GARRISON I HATE THE GARRISON I HATE THE GARRISON BARK BITE SNARL
"little fella" bandor you're only taller than pidge by a head shut up LMAO
Coran actually doing work for once and helping out, he's becoming a dependable person slowly but surely
Lotor is yelling about this next robeast being the most powerful there is,, my guy you say this every time just pick one of them to back and stick with it
"sorry we shouldve helped you when you asked earlier but now we're fucked and we genuinely can't do anything now <3"
FUCK THE GARRISON I HATE THE GARRISON RAAA
GOD IS THAT YOU?? WHAT IS THIS
THEY'RE LITERALLY MEETING GOD AND SHE'S GIVING THEM A CHOICE, GO TO HEAVEN OR KEEP LIVING AND GO TO HELL WHEN THEY REALLY DIE
what heroes, they chose to end up going to hell if it meant being able to save the universe
IMMEDIATELY NOTING THIS DOWN FOR FUTURE ANGST EVEN THOUGH I ALREADY KNEW ABOUT IT
VOLTRON LITERALLY HAS THE POWER OF GOD AND ANIME ON THEIR SIDE LMAOO
back to romelle and now she's chained up, what did they do to you bestie
ITS BANDOR COMING FOR HIS SISTER HE'S SO REAL FOR THAT
there he is! voltron to save the day and destroy that robeast with blazing sword!
i'm sorry couldn't follow lotor to planet doom? what bullshit
IS GOD TALKING TO ROMELLE? OH MY GOD, SHE GOT SHOT INTO THE PIT OF SKULLS NOT PUSHED
THIS IS A THREE PARTER HELLO???
/episode end
#voltron#voltron defender of the universe#voltron dotu#80s voltron#let's rewind!#toast talks#what just happened in these episodes#insane
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Venting about the 12th Doctor and nuwho experience so far
So I’ve been working my way through nuwho for about a year and a half now, and since it hit 12 it’s been extremely slowly. The reason it’s been so slow is while there are episodes I like, I cannot for the life of me get invested in these characters, the major exception after the s9 premiere being Missy.
I love her.
Dearly.
I’m just gonna pull off the bandaid now, I liked Clara more with 11. I know heaven sent is gonna be amazing and gives a great tragic goodbye for her, the fact is as of now, I wish she would’ve left either after kill the moon, or after the s8 finale.
And I’ll stress that I am extremely biased towards more classic who feels for episodes. That’s where I got into the series and if you know me, you’ll know I DESPISE new who’s constant raising of the stakes. As in then Modern day earth/the whole universe has to be on the line.
I’ve reached a boiling point with the 12th doctor because Moffatt’s inability to commit to his dramatic plot points.
I’m not expecting Missy to actually be dead. It was obvious she survived. And she was the best part of the s9 premiere, but like… more of a buffer guys.
Speaking of a buffer, once again we have a perfectly fine companion break up that’s undone by the Christmas special because god forbid new who has a good companion exit/commits to it outside of Martha’s.
(Opinion context: Rose’s first exit worked, then Journey’s end happened. Jack’s was straight up bad, just forgot about him for two seasons, Martha is good as stated, Donna’s was horribly contrived and fucking stupid actually happy that’s getting a do over, Amy and Rory had their good exit at the end of s6, which got ruined by the Christmas special, and now Clara with the same shit.)
Magician’s apprentice in particular annoyed me because it felt like it was spinning it’s wheels while also yet again making the stakes impossibly big when they did not need to be. At least at the start. “The Doctor is dying. Airplanes are frozen in mid air! The master is back! What do we doooo?” When the initial conceit of the Doctor being torn between helping a kiddo Davros or letting him die was way more interesting. And I won’t lie, not all of this criticism is fair. I’d heard this was the premise of the episode for months if not years in advance, and got excited and built my own picture of what it could’ve been. And when the episodes themselves seemed to be actively avoiding the interesting thing in favor of Davros and 12 sitting in a room reading their character analysis’ of each other while Missy and Clara run around a radiation filled planet with no side effects, I got bored fast.
Like Moffatt, I know you got the idea for this episode from 4’s speech in genesis. You don’t have to literally play the clip from the speech. It’s not necessary and just eats up time. Just role with the dramatic irony and have fans notice the reference.
I will say I liked that 12 didn’t fall for Davros’ obvious lies and that 12 had a real plan to kill all of the daleks on the rebuilt skaro. 10 seemingly backtracking to pre remembrance character development never sat right with me. And 11 never truly contemplating the gravity of the consequences of choosing to save the earth over destroying the daleks in victory of the daleks was also annoying. So to give 12 this chance to get rid of it all and have him actually go through with it was nice.
I fully expect Davros to return at some point, but at the very least, it won’t be because the Doctor showed him pity. They are well and truly past that now.
But then he almost falls for Missy’s bit to trick him into killing Clara? Ugh. More importantly though, this episode relies wayyyyy too much on the audience’s classic who knowledge of thecharacter dynamic and what happened to Skaro. As far as I can remember, nuwho does not ever explain the Doctor destroyed it.
Listen I like it when classic who comes up in nuwho, but nuwho needs to stand on its own. And if it’s gonna take cues from classic who, then for the love of god stop having 3 save modern day earth plots per season and let the timelords be actual forces in the narrative. Vs some tragic backstory you lean on b/c you’re convinced the doctor’s mysticism is why we like him so much.
I swear nuwho downplaying that the doctor is a renegade timelord b/c Galifrey is no longer a factor in the plot outside of “waaa I destroyed my home planet in the time war,” is just so annoying. The writers focus on the stole the tardis aspect and not “my people had time and space travel but they sat on their asses vs using it to explore and help people.
I’ll clarify that I do not hate all of new who. I like it overall. And I like older doctors too. Plz I don’t hate capaldi as an actor I think he does a good job with what he’s given. But god does where I’m at feel like the show is just running on fumes while also having it’s head up it’s own ass.
I bet Clara’s clear trauma at 12 nearly killing her and being unable to explain who she is will totally get addressed in the next story.
/s
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Long take, incoming!
So, you have to admit that there's a certain irony being a part of a fandom who, despite its main characters being the literal princes of hell, will occasionally become outraged over any and every morally questionable habit they may do. And I suppose the writers, to avoid their Twitter mentions being blown up with inane accusations, sugar coated certain aspects of demon nature to make it a bit more "friendly."
Unfortunately, those are SOME of the types of people you'll run into within the Obey Me! community. Actually, in most fandoms, you'll tend to come across people where either a character is "good" or "evil" and nothing else. That sort of either/or mindset is to me, slowly killing fandom discourse, but I won't get into that.
What I am getting at is while I didn't start Obey Me! near the very beginning of the fandom, I remember coming across the occasional "call out" posts when they were at their most...heated. Some of the interpretations made about certain characters and their fans were nowhere near accurate, yet people tend to get weird when they project their shit onto fictional characters, so you end up with the most shitty of takes.
And since I'm noticing some of this behavior popping up again now that the anime, and in turn the game, is becoming a bit more popular, I'd like to give a simple reminder that:
liking a morally complex or even reprehensible character does not make you, an actual breathing human being capable of critical thought and in control of their actions, beahviors, and emotions, a bad person.
Nor are you obligated to justify your like of said character or even involve yourself in any discussions regarding them being "bad" or "good." There's a space for just enjoying the less critical parts of fandom if that's what you choose to stick to.
The only reason I personally do character analysis isn't because I want to berate anyone for liking a character or make them feel bad about it emotionally. I find that sort of tactic to be rather manipulative (like, this is a fictional character who has not and can not harm you or anyone in any way. I don't see why a real person's morality should be brought into question because they happen to be less upset over what they did than you).
It's because I'm a nerd who wants to get better at writing their own stories and loves to torture themselves with research. It's easy to boil a character down to a trope, but it's harder to break down all the pieces that go into a character, if that makes sense. I don't take things at face value or at least try not to. If there's something behind it, then I'd like to know what it is. Though there are times my biases show, and I have to dial it back a bit, I really do try to look at every character and what the narrative is trying to say with them.
At the end of the day, Obey Me! is ultimately an otome, and at worst, a horrible cash grab of a gacha game, and if I'm being honest, maybe we're all taking this thing a bit too seriously. This isn't the Epic of Gilgamesh, after all.
Yet maybe anything worth liking is worth engaging somewhat critically about? Recognizing the good, the bad, and the ugly. Knowing where it needs to and where it doesn't need to improve. Like, yeah it's kinda a silly game with a lackluster plot, but Obey Me! and its characters are worth examining further, and despite some receiving more development than others (Mammon, Lucifer), we can still see that there are attempts at developing complexity beyond the two dimensional (Satan and those fucking cats I swear to god he is more than that the story shows that he is and I swear I to god--).
So yeah, ignore shitty bait, understand that analyzing characters requires nuance, and curate your fandom space the way you want to. That's all.
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thinking about here lies the abyss. thinking about how the option of leaving hawke or a warden was wasted. stroud's only emotional connection to the player relies on the chance and memory that you brought carver or bethany into the deeproads with anders, so he could say he knows where the wardens might be so that stroud can show up and conscript ur baby sibling. he is so easy to leave in the fade because hes not My Character. loghain is super easy because hes an asshole and usually i let alistair get his revenge in dao. alistair is the hardest choice in the three presented because while hes not Your Character. he is a party member he could have been your romance and you dont wanna kill ur wardens husband. but hawke is still Your Character.
heres my proposals on how to make that choice actually hard, almost a decade later! (side note: has it really been almost a decade since this game came out?)
if you made beth or carver a warden have the choice be hawke or their sibling! have the creeping horror of a family reunion slowly turn into "oh god whos going to be the final hawke sibling alive" because both of them would fight over who gets to stay in the fade because they cant let the other die even if theyre enemies. hawke can not loose yet another family member when the choice is in the palm of the hand to definitively save them. and beth or carver would feel both a warden need to stay and also would not let hawke make another sacrifice the twins know that hawke has given enough.
i know canon wise HOF has disappeared and thats why theyre not the inquisitor. so having them show up for this would be weird but they coulda just not made that a plot point and have HOF show up and then you have to pick between your two player characters. and then you have to deal with the dilemma of whoever you leave their partner is going to be so fucking angry. and picking between two of ur Played Guys is going to be so much harder! esp with dao and the background and romance choices you made. you could have an ex crow mad at you, you could have one of your advisors pissed at you and That being a crucial event to harden leliana, you could depending on even witch hunt dlc choices have morrigan mad at you, while she lives in your castle, and youve just killed her husband and the father of her child that you have met and was actively raising his son. you could have the king of fereldan mad at you for killing his queen/consort. which is probs Why the HOF isnt an option if you kept them alive because it would get messy with how many dao companions are involved in dai to a degree.
THEY COULDA MADE ANY OF THE AWAKENING COMPANIONS THE OPTION TO YEET. granted that puts them in the same space as alistair of Yeah id feel bad but like. its not my warden its my wardens friends theyre easier to leave than hawke. BUT IT COULD GET SPICY IF ANDERS IS ALIVE. AND THE CHOICE IS LEAVE ANDERS OR HAWKE!!! esp if you romanced him does hawke loose everyone in their life or does anders loose everyone in his life. OR LIKE say its nathaniel that really only hurts if you played cousland at any point because nates a shit but also a childhood friend. most people wouldnt care about oghren and hed be same boat as loghain. sigrun and velanna would hurt for people who got personally invested in them since theres so character background tie ins from memory. but like any of them could be options to hurt around the alistair level of choice.
there are so so many other good npc and companion choices from games to make here lies the abyss a hard choice and to make it hurt no matter who you leave behind. but no the fucking options are :checks notes: loghain an ex military general who staged a coup and had an active hand in slavery. stroud a warden npc you met twice if you even remember him at all. or alistair your companion who most people made king so he never shows up as an option here.
#da#dai#this is literally an essay so its goin under the cut#main tags dont need to see this rant of mine that m always thinking about#please talk to me about my theories and ideas i wanted this quest to hurt and make me cry but instead it was lukewarm like all other#go into the fade quests in previous games altho i think it was the nicest done and the most polished of the tries
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manifesting Fukufuku dying in each others arms -> I am losing it slowly anyway thoughts on the newest chapter?
this has been sitting in my askbox since september and im really sorry anwsering took so long, but ive been trying to articulate how the last few chapters/last episode made me feel and im still not sure, because there have been so many bizzare choices made by both asagiri and the ppl behind the anime i still cant wrap my head around it fully (this got stupid long sorry)
starting with fukuzawa, i made a post a while back talking abt how i was assuming he was going to die/why it'd make a lot of sense, and there were really two main reasons for that; 1. he hasnt had anything interesting to offer for the story for a while and 2. his ability actively stops other important characters (mainly atsushi and kyouka) from further developement. the first thing is now gone which im pretty happy with! i love fukuzawa a lot so it's nice to see him finally have a purpose in the main story and im excited to see where it will go (also fukufuku you will always be famous to me <3333333), but the issue of his ability is still very much here. ive seen ppl theorize that all men are equal is just him lying and there is no ability but i honest to god would hate that, bc it would seem like such a shallow twist. atsushi's conflict with the tiger is central to his character so if it suddenly got revealed that a huge reason why he's even capable of using his power is just placebo "believe in yourself" bullshit i think i'd tear my own hair out. so im still thinking fukuzawa may get killed at some point, esp with the position he's been put into now and how much he seems to not want it.
and as for the "chuuya was never a vampire" fiasco, i honestly have no words, it was so unbelievably bad. ik there's been a ton of posts about how "its actually good" bc fyodor's death was caused by his inability to trust, and dazai's belief in his allies is what put him at an advantage, which is nice yeah, but it doesnt change how fucking stupid of a plan that was. if their goal is to kill fyodor, why not do it in that flooded room? fyodor escapes solely bc chuuya gets him out but if he was concious the entire time why not just leave him there? why continue to pretend? im usually not a huge fan of getting angry over plot holes when the narrative and themes are whats more important, but this is just so blantantly stupid. it feels like asagiri just wanted a plot twist for a plot twist's sake. mersault in general is so poorly constructed as an arc (dazai communicating via his heartbeat,,,, give me a break) but at least you'd hope it would end in a way that makes you excuse all of that, and then it doesn't. i think this post sums up how i feel about this than i ever could
and the fact that its december and we are STILL behind the fucking anime asagiri be so for real. it's easy to see now that the constant half chapters and short releases were a deliberate choice to have the anime catch up which i dont love, but fine, whatever. but now??? what the point of half releases? these chapters have been ready for a long time, and there's no way asagiri and the editors and whoever else is involved arent aware of how frustrated the readers have been for years now. the only explanation i can think of is that maybe the manga will have a different arc conclusion and ctheyre trying to idk, make it seem like we're following the anime closely? idk this shit is so stupid
overall this past arc or two have been bad, there are some elements that make them enjoyable still, but there is no theme consistency and overreliance on cliff hangers (that ppl still somehow buy). it feels like there are no stakes to the story, and that's really bad. maybe it's why i was hoping for fukuzawa to be killed alongside fukuchi idk, it'd finally feel like something is changing
on a brief positive note i quite enjoyed fyodors death, weird catholic freak, ofc nikolai is cradling your arm like this. i was a little suprised to see fyodor killed just yet (bc he always needed to die for the story to be able to wrap up eventually), but given the jesus quote, he may as well come back in some way tbh
#and then there the bsd anime sucks issue#s5 in particular but i think its in huge part bc it seems to have been rushed#like dazai leaving mersault with no blood on his clothes/suddenly walking with no issue#and again. so sorry for not anwsering for months im really bad at running a blog#ask
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viki & hickeys
the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)
SUMMARY Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.
WARNINGS a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries
MISC there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 😳, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide
RATING m (18+)
WC 16.3k !!!! ik its fckin LOOOONG
NOTES (!) in true Viki fashion, here’s an nc fic where there’s like 3 different plot lines n a hot male antagonist <3 this series started off as just me wanting to write smut n it still is! now i just like to infuse different levels of angst into it as well </3 as always, lemme know what u think!! i proofread it twice but one of those times had been at 4 am so if u see a typo no u didn't. also here’s a gif of jungkook crying during a dolly parton performances and here’s another gif of jungkook crying bc it’s scary how pretty he looks
Being evil and hot does not come for free. As you’ve long since learned in the past twenty-three years of your life, you truly can’t have it all.
There is always some deliberating character flaw the universe must bestow upon you in order to level you out, make you fall onto the same plane as all the other mortals. Everyone has one, no matter how small or insignificant. Doyeon’s is that she doesn’t know how to work a straightening iron. Namjoon's is that he can’t tell the difference between water and liquor. Jungkook, despite all his tech-y nerdiness, doesn’t know how to do his own taxes. And yours? You don’t know shit about romcoms.
Your knowledge on the romantic genre is what leads to this predicament now, the ring on your finger heavy as Doyeon regards you with what is perhaps the most unimpressed look known to mankind. “This is a promise ring,” she says bluntly, the bustling sounds of the coffee shop around you the soundtrack to your sudden realization.
“No,” you deny, even though you know she’s right. “It’s an engagement ring.”
Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Babe,” she starts slowly, talks to you like you’re a dorky high schooler with her first boyfriend, “did he ask you to marry him?”
The truth is, the timing had been weird. It had been a few days after you’d rocked Jungkook’s world so you understand if he felt the sudden need to pop the question. But you were also sick as fuck that day, had only vaguely remembered the events because you were too busy with the snot up your nose and the raging fever you were battling. Had Jungkook asked you to marry him?
You’re not so sure.
It’s been a little over a month since then, and sure his lack of proactive wedding planning was a little weird, but you had always assumed Jungkook was one of those people who liked long engagements. Liked to drag out the last few months as a bachelor. Maybe he was waiting until you were both financially stable or something, who knows.
Doyeon had been on some soul-searching journey around the country, so she hadn't been home for a while, had only heard of the ring through a two-second snapchat. This is the first time she’s seeing you and it in person; you can tell by the expression on her face that she’s rightfully disappointed.
“Have you no shame, woman?” she tuts, arms crossed over her chest. “You have me parading around the world bragging about your engagement— just for this?”
You knock your forehead against the table, know it’s dirty and icky, but you deserve it. “Listen,” you huff. “I’ve only seen The Notebook, like, once.”
She scoffs. “I can tell. This is so embarrassing, don’t tell me you’ve brought it up to him?”
At her words you startle, nearly send the drinks flying across the floor. “No!” you shout, mindlessly reaching to twist the ring around your finger. It’s become a habit these past few weeks, a comfort to feel it around you. Granted, the feeling is a little muted now. “Of course he’d get me a promise ring,” you grumble, gaze flickering down to the silver band on your ring finger. “Jungkook loves all that cheesy corny stuff.” He really did.
You’ve had enough of Doyeon’s disappointment, decide this coffee date has brought you enough three am anxiety material for the next year and a half. You conclude your date by taking a walk around town, arms locked together as you laugh at people who pass by because you’re both a little mean.
“Maybe it’s for the best,” she says, and you agree. Well, a promise ring certainly meant something. It was, essentially, a pre-engagement ring. And the engagement ring that followed was a pre-wedding ring. And a wedding ring was, well, a wedding ring. Your heartbeat thunders at the thought. “You’re busy right now anyway,” she points out, snapping you out of your bumbling thoughts. “Aren’t you getting promoted at work soon?”
Oh, you certainly were getting promoted at work. After many grueling months of hard work and dedication, the fruits of your labor were finally being recognized. Gone were the days of useless desk work, intern-like errands that barely required the use of any higher-order brain functions. You had worked hard these past few months, proved your worth over and over again, until you were here. Getting promoted into a new branch at your company— one where your talents were actually needed. And truth be told, there was one man to thank for that.
Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin.
Seokjin is a great boss. In fact, you could argue he’s the best in the entire world and that, if it wasn’t for him, you would have quit this job that first month you started. But you had him to push you along, friendly smiles and encouragements that kept you going until this point, where you’re being promoted up into a branch where your degree finally matters. And it was all thanks to him! What Kim Namjoon was to Jungkook, Kim Seokjin was to you.
So what if he cheated on his wife and flirted with the secretaries— Seokjin was practically a god in your eyes.
And what Seokjin did in his free time was frankly none of your business anyway. You were colleagues at work, got along fairly well, but outside of work you were practically strangers. He was your beloved work colleague, someone Jungkook teased you about endlessly despite never having met him, and you were immensely thankful for him. “Should I be scared he’ll steal you from me?” Jungkook had joked one night, standing behind you as you scrolled through your company profile page. “He is a little handsome.”
You had pinched his side, smiling at his feigned concern when he pressed his lips to your temple. “You’re right,” you had joked back, “he is sooo cool.” And Jungkook had bitten you on the shoulder, laughed that pretty laugh when you yelped in surprise.
Anyway, Kim Seokjin was a god, Jungkook was on his way to maybe, hopefully, one day, being your husband, and all was well.
To honor this moment in time, you decide to swing by Jungkook’s place after your date with Doyeon, finding him lazily sprawled across his living room couch while What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? plays on the Jumbotron. He’s in between projects right now, so he’s spent most of his time relaxing and catching up on all his favorite shows.
Which brings you back to that deliberating character flaw of yours: no knowledge of the romantic genre to utilize in your everyday life. Your love language has always been blunt words, teasing jabs, the raw and unfiltered type of love. Emotions? Impossible to figure out. You’ve gotten pretty far in life reading verbal and physical cues; with Jungkook, you always know he’s upset when he does the little tongue-against-cheek thing, and it has saved you from many potential arguments.
On the other hand, it is so obvious what Jungkook’s love language is when he spends fifty percent of his time on Viki, home to some of the most cheesy kdramas in existence. Most guys spend their weekends watching sports or dramatic action movies, but here was Jungkook. Watching some guy try to court his secretary.
(Okay, he does watch sports and action movies too, but that’s not the point!)
“Hello, sweet boy,” you greet, plopping down beside him. Jungkook smiles back softly. He’s serving absolute pre-pre-husband deliciousness right now, cute glasses, fluffy curls, plaid bottoms that make him look so comfy. God, you were going to suck his dick tonight.
Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, tastes like the chocolate cake you specifically told him not to eat without you. He blindsides you before you can scold him, pulls you onto his lap where the swell of his cock nudges against your thigh. Oh, you were definitely going to suck his dick and ride him well into the sunrise.
“What’s my pretty girl doing here tonight?” he asks, cutely looping his fingers through yours. “Thought you were with the Wicked Witch of the West today?”
You roll your eyes, reposition yourself in a laughable attempt at pretending like you’re actually interested in the show. “We just went out for lunch,” you explain, watching the hot lead saunter across the screen. Juicy ass, but nothing compared to Jungkook’s.
There’s a question lingering on the tip of your tongue, Doyeon’s explanations mixed with your worries, and you hold it for exactly ten seconds before you’re turning to face him head on, eyes going a little crossed from how close he is. “Hey,” you say bluntly. “Is this a promise ring?” you ask, wiggle your finger in his face.
Jungkook blinks, once, twice, and then his face shoots up in flames. “Maybe,” he mumbles, lips pursed as he tries to avoid your gaze. He was adorable. You laugh, endeared by the red flush that crawls over his cute little cheeks and up his ears. Unable to stop yourself, you squeeze said cheeks between your hands, cooing at the annoyed expression that consumes him soon afterwards.
“Aw, you want to marry me,” you tease, but it’s secretly a leading question for him to confess that yes, he does want to marry you. For as hot and confident as you are, you too are plagued with doubts. Doubts that can only be smoothed over by hearing it straight from Jungkook’s mouth.
He rolls his eyes, trying to break free from your hold. “We’ve talked about this,” he murmurs, all embarrassed. But like always, Jungkook knows exactly what you want so he doesn’t deny it, and that’s good enough for you. He’s too flustered to look you in the eye now, childishly craning his head away from you when you try to force him into a staring contest. “Can I finish my show?” he whines, slightly not as hard now that you’ve reduced him into a shy, bumbling mess. It was a nice change of pace from his usual, composed self.
But you relent, sliding off his lap to sit against his side, classic octopus hug around his waist. The episode is in full swing, not that you know anything about it. Like you said, romantic shows and movies were the least of your concerns. Jungkook, however, eats this type of shit up. “He still trying to fuck her?” you ask, not the least bit interested, but if you’re planning on sucking his dick tonight you have to listen to a few minutes of him rambling first.
Jungkook sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “I don’t get it.” You hum, trail your hand over his abdomen teasingly. He feels so warm and lean beneath your palm, you were getting hot just thinking about it. “Why would anyone agree to dating their boss?”
You know that Jungkook’s boss is some old Facebook fart, pioneer of something on the site that neither of you two care about. So it makes sense that such a notion disturbs him. You shrug anyway. “Everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss,” you offer. “It’s like, the power dynamic, I guess.”
His frown deepens. “Would you?” Your boss isn’t exactly an old fart; the reason Kim Seokjin was such a renowned playboy is because, well, he had the looks to pull it off. Still, he had become a sort of respectable figure to you and the idea of sleeping with him doesn’t really sound appealing as much as it would to any other random bachelorette, which you admittedly were not. You glance at the screen, where Park Seojoon swaggers around in those tight slacks and fitted button-ups.
“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.”
Jungkook laughs. “You’re supposed to say no, you idiot,” he says, knocks his forehead against yours softly. You can’t help but chuckle too, enamored with the happy glint in his eyes and the way his smile eats up his features.
Oh, you loved this man.
Because he was so sweet and good on Christmas, you let Jungkook make the plans for Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s his favorite holiday (“Why? Well, because it’s a day all about you, and me, and us,” he had sighed dreamily in the bathtub one night, hair adorably pushed back to showcase that handsome face of his. Bubbles clung to his chest, had made you dizzy with every breath he took.), so it’s only right that he gets to make the itinerary for the day, fill it with all his favorite things. After all, cheesy romantic stuff like this was right up his lane.
He reserves a spot at the fanciest restaurant in the city, the one that has a months long waiting list. It sounds perfect, and the closer it gets to February 13th, the more excited you become. You say 13th because the 14th is a Sunday, and as much as you would love to get on your knees and praise Jungkook’s body until the wee hours of the next day, you have work. So Sunday is off the table. And it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Everywhere would have been packed that day anyway.
It seems like everywhere you go, the entire world is gearing up for the holiday; from the fast food drive-thru to your favorite lingerie shop, there’s Valentine’s Day specials everywhere you look. Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.
But what good is a lovey-dovey holiday without your own lovey dove himself?
One glance out your window and your knees feel weak, because there he is. Dressed in a loose satin button up, shoulders broad, chest defined. He’s got on these fitted dress pants that accentuate his tiny waist too, thick thighs bulging beneath the fabric. There’s a coat hugging his frame, something to shield him from the cold while he waits out on the curb, does this cute little shivering dance in an attempt to warm up his muscles. Your heart feels like it’ll explode at the sight, and you can practically hear the corny, overused romantic song playing in the background of your thoughts, so you hurriedly distract yourself by slipping tonight’s dress on.
It’s cold outside, but the sight of Jungkook makes you feel warm and fuzzy everywhere. He’s so hot it makes you dizzy, and the sap knows it when he meets you on the sidewalk. Instinctively, his hand reaches out to tangle with yours, the other slipping around your waist. “Hi, gorgeous,” he greets playfully, kissing your knuckles. His hair has grown out a little, curls up cutely when he lets it air dry and tickles your skin when he gets too close. “Lookin’ like Secretary Kim.”
“Oh? So does that make you my hot boss?” you tease as you make your way to the car.
As always, he opens the door for you first, flashes you this dorky little wink as he rounds the front of the car. “If it means you’ll sleep with me tonight, then sure,” he says, buckling himself in. You roll your eyes at his claim. You don’t get to see the proud little smile on his face; by the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s already pulling off in the direction of the restaurant.
It’s a classy thing, a restaurant and bar in some insanely tall skyscraper. Of course your seats are right beside one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the beautiful, glittering cityscape. “Fancy,” you murmur as you sit down, catching a glimpse of the eye roll Jungkook gives you.
“You say that about any place that serves wine,” he chuckles, reaching for the bottle on the table to pour you a glass.
The wine tastes like perfection, aged for the perfect amount of time. Whatever that was. You don’t really know, but it tastes amazing! Still, amazement aside, you manage a scoff. “I didn’t say that about your house on our first date,” you huff anyway, throwing him a playful glare over the rim of your glass.
Jungkook laughs, full and real this time. It’s a little too loud for the classy establishment you find yourselves in, drowns out the jazz music for a second. “That’s because it was a house,” he says, wearing that big, shiny smile you adore, “and we were watching Transformers.” An amazing date, the mere memory of it makes your toes curl. He had been so dreamy— nearly two years ago now! —and had retained that aura up to the present day. You don’t think you’ve ever been so in love with anyone or anything in this world before, as cheesy as it was to admit.
As if sensing your sudden wandering thoughts, Jungkook nudges your ankle under the table. “Hey,” he says so softly you could melt; his voice was so silky and sweet. “Everything okay?” he asks.
A sigh, chin in your palm. You had to have been abducted by aliens or something— there was no way this was your life, this disgustingly romantic date with this disgustingly handsome man. An episode of Black Mirror maybe? One where you get forced to live in a romantic Viki drama with the man you love, every single day for the rest of your life? Maybe.
Dramatics aside, you could practically feel that sticky sweet, sentimental monster begging to crawl to the surface, unleash the entire Shakespearean collection of lovesick sonnets on your unsuspecting boyfriend in the middle of this restaurant. But the weird ones, were you accidentally dedicate an entire six lines to the bulge of Jungkook’s thighs in his workout pants or the heart-shaped mole on his shoulder. Those kind. Before that can happen, you settle on an equally as gentle, “I love you,” murmured for only him to hear.
Across the table, Jungkook smiles. One of those thin ones when he’s trying to keep his composure but is actually quite flustered, his subtle bunny teeth nibbling at his lower lip. “Thanks,” he responds, still trying to play it cool, but then he almost knocks his glass down and you’re reminded just how perfect he was, flaws and all. “Me too.”
You jab the pointed tip of your stiletto against his shin. “Say it back,” you warn and he laughs.
“I love you,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Straight out of a romantic drama, like the ones on Viki that require a minimum of four different story arcs just to get to this point. But with Jungkook, it takes a few shy smiles and maybe a kiss. It has a scorching heat rising on your cheeks, one you ward away with a hurried sip of your drink while Jungkook reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing over your promise ring as if for good luck.
That singular phrase makes your world pause, its axis stalling while you deal with the overwhelmingly soft and gooey feelings in your chest. Oh jeez, you had to rock his world tonight. It was only right. He deserved it for making you feel like this— this silly and ditzy, like a middle schooler with her crush.
Anyway the food gets to your table after a millennia. Jungkook orders some fancy lobster dish, one that you're pretty sure costs more than the purse you brought along tonight (to be fair, you’re a cheap buyer), and still has the audacity to poke around at your plate too. He eats enough to feed a schoolhouse full of children who’ve just come off recess, practically devouring the table cloth before you stop him. And then he doesn’t let you see the bill; “baby, don’t worry about that when you’re with me,” he purrs, warm breath fanning against the skin on your neck, drunk off pure love and strawberry lemonade because he was driving tonight. The hostess is a blushing mess, fumbling for his change as Jungkook practically gropes your ass in plain sight.
You swear he’s spending too much time on that Viki streaming service, because then, as if the romantic dinner date wasn’t enough, he whisks you off to an even more romantic walk along the river.
If there was ever a world record for “Number of Times you can Make your Girlfriend Swoon,” you’re positive Jungkook had broken it in the span of a few hours. You feel so light-headed and in love by the time you reach the river.
“You know,” you tell him as you walk, the serene sounds of the flowing water beside you the soundtrack to your date. Jungkook swings your joined hands between the two of you. It’s chilly but you’re so full and happy that you don’t let it bother you. “I was gonna throw wine at you when we first met.”
He cackles, that loud, airy sound again that he only lets you hear, with his head thrown back. “What?” he gasps, smiley and pretty, your pretty boy. “And why were you going to do that?”
You huff, feeling slightly embarrassed now to admit such a thing. But aside from Doyeon, no one else has ever heard this classified tale. And well, you’re feeling extra emotional tonight. An abundance of emotions in one night usually ended with you crying like a little bitch at some point or another, so you’re trying to push that off for later. “Because,” you sigh, squeezing his fingers, your lone promise ring versus his assortment of fashionable rings. “You sounded like an absolute fuck boy when you first texted me!”
Jungkook scoffs, playfully scandalized. “Me?” he squawks, pausing to stand in front of you with wide eyes and a ridiculously huge smile, the kind that has his brows raised high, lips going thin, practically displaying every tooth in his mouth from how wide it is.
“Jungkook,” you say calmly, shoving one finger against his chest. “You asked me to Netflix & chill for our first date.”
He groans, using your entwined hands to pull you into his arms for a suffocating hug. “I already told you,” he laughs, patting the back of your head while you get in a few lighthearted punches against his sides. “I didn’t know what it meant.”
“Whatever, you sleaze,” you say anyway, eventually melting into his hands. “Bet you tell all the girls that.” Jungkook makes another scandalized noise, but settles when you wrap your hands around him. He smells so good and familiar, comforting even. Like home and safety, a refuge for your heart. When you’re this close, you can hear the light beating of it beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that has you closing your eyes when he begins humming your favorite song.
He gets about two verses in when your phone suddenly goes off.
Everything in your body says to ignore it, to continue basking in the comfort of your boyfriend’s embrace and this absolutely perfect moment. But it’s the stupid ringtone you set for all your work peers when you first loaded the entire company contact list onto your phone, so the sound alone lets you know it’s a work-related call. And for work to be calling you on a weekend was definitely not a good sign.
“Give me a sec,” you tell Jungkook, pulling away from his arms. He frowns but lets you go, staying close as you dig through your purse for the offending device.
It’s Kim Seokjin calling at this peculiar hour, a fact that confuses the hell out of you. Jungkook’s bouncing on his heels in an attempt to fight off the chill, giving you his beautiful side profile as he glances down the winding sidewalk that follows the river, and then at his watch. His nose is a cute red color that you want to kiss so bad. But work calls, so you tighten up and let that dream go for now. You swipe your thumb across the screen.
“Hello, Mr. Kim,” you greet, trying to keep the confusion out of your voice. “How can I help—“
“__, my love,” he beams through the phone, so fucking loud it has Jungkook glancing over curiously. You give him a tight-lipped smile, one he returns as he shuffles closer, trying to steal your warmth like a penguin. You let him snuggle close before turning back to the droning voice of your superior on the line.
“Hello,” you repeat again, slowly. Jungkook takes your free hand in his; when he squeezes, the band of your promise ring digs into your skin just the slightest. “Was something the matter?”
Seokjin laughs, loud and clear. There’s a lot of other noises filtering in through his line. Briefly, you remember that there had been some work-related party for the higher ups tonight so you write it off as that. “Does there need to be a problem for me to call you, love?”
You falter. Beside you, Jungkook’s brows furrow together, his devilishly handsome features even more pronounced. He’s obviously heard the other man on the line. “Um,” you flounder for a second, “well, usually yes.”
Without missing a beat, Seokjin carries on with a playful tut that you’re almost certain has him lifting the receiver up to his mouth, because it’s so goddamn loud it has you flinching away from your own device. “My __,” he says, sweet and… slurred?
He’s never used this tone of voice on you, only on other women at the office. Something about his broken marriage and needing to heal a wound, you don’t fucking know. You can’t even begin to truly understand that logic, which is why you’ve always just ignored it. Still, in the last few months of knowing Seokjin, he has never made a pass at you. Until now, that is. And until now, you had kind of convinced yourself he saw you in a sisterly way. Which sure, was worse than being friendzoned. But this was your boss you were talking about. Whether you got sister-zoned or not by him was the least of your concerns. So what was going on? What had changed over the span of a few days that had him suddenly reaching out to you on a weekend?
Beside you, Jungkook doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed, tongue prodding against his cheek as Seokjin rambles on the line. You wish you had lowered the volume before answering, but doing so now would appear suspicious, even you could admit that. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Seokjin praises. You nod, remember he can’t see you, and settle on a blunt thanks instead. Jin laughs. “You’re different from the rest,” he hums, voice soft and weirdly intimate.
Jungkook’s frown deepens. “What does he want?” he murmurs, somehow managing to keep his voice calm as always. The deep furrow of his brows and the tongue-against-cheek motion he had done just a few seconds ago all indicate he’s annoyed, that much you can tell.
You shrug, eyes wide as you hurry to get to the reason for the phone call. You’re almost certain it’s just Seokjin being drunk— many people drunkenly dial their friends and family to tell them how much they’re appreciated, this wasn’t anything weird!
Is what you try to convince yourself, but then Seokjin’s voice is dropping an octave by your ear. “Did you get my gift?” he murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the event he’s at.
“Huh?” you stammer, quite stupidly if you do say so yourself. Jungkook shifts closer, obviously trying to hear. A breeze ruffles his hair, his cologne wafting over you. “What?”
A sigh over the line. “My gift, love,” Kim Seokjin says, loud and proud. Jungkook exhales, hard. “I had it sent to your house this evening. Something pretty for a pretty girl— don’t tell me the postman fucked that up,” he jokes and Jungkook huffs, practically breathing fire through his nose when he hears the words.
You fidget. There had been no gift when Jungkook picked you up around sunset, not like you had expected anything to begin with. And aside from Jungkook and maybe your parents, there was no one else on this planet you wanted to receive a Valentine’s Day gift from anyway, especially not from your boss of all people. “Um,” you mumble, acutely aware of the way Jungkook’s face is nearly pressed to yours now in his effort to listen in on your phone call. “I— um, haven’t been home, Seokjin.”
Jungkook scoffs, spits out a particularly unimpressed, “Seokjin?”
Said man doesn’t hear. “Oh, of course,” he says, almost sullenly. “I forgot you had that little boyfriend to entertain tonight.”
It’s the breaking point for Jungkook, who leans back to glare at the phone with the heat of a thousand suns. You press it against your chest before he can hear anything else. “I’m sorry,” you rush out in a hurried whisper, eyes flickering over his face, trying to gauge the intensity of his emotions. “I think he’s drunk— he’s never said things to me like this before,” you stammer, feeling like you have to defend yourself for some reason. “I’ll- I’ll take care of it, okay?” No answer, just an aggravated shake of his head, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Jungkook?” you say, can feel the panic begin to lace your voice when his eyes flutter shut.
He calms your worries with a gentle head butt that has you gasping in surprise, one hard exhale fanning over you. “Okay,” he says, teeth clenched. “I’m gonna go sit.” And then he stiffly walks over to one of the many benches lining the pathway. He sits, just like he had said he would, and glares down at his hands instead.
The sight makes you anxious, unsure of how to diffuse the situation because, like you’ve said many times before, dealing with emotions— especially someone else’s emotions —was hard. Your eyes refuse to leave his figure as you draw the phone back up to your ear again. “Hello?” you call, voice trembling when Jungkook finally looks your way. The soft look he had given you all night is nowhere to be found, replaced with this rather unreadable expression. Something between annoyance and confusion if you had to guess. You don’t know, and the fact you don’t know makes you panic. Your chest feels tight when Seokjin begins speaking again.
“You know,” he says, “you’re quite something, __. Strong, confident. Beautiful.” Had you been anyone else, you might have been flattered by Kim Seokjin’s remarks, maybe would have swooned. He was, objectively speaking, a handsome man with a hefty bank account.
But if that was the criteria for a man to make you swoon, then the man on the bench in front of you checked all the same boxes three times over. The man who’s brows draw closer and closer together the longer you linger on the phone. Jungkook’s foot does one agonizing tap against the concrete and you find yourself stammering into the phone. “I think you’re drunk, Jin.”
A scoff. “I am,” he agrees, and doesn't even bother to hide it. “But you remind me of her, you know that? I like that.”
It’s like he knows something is going on on the line, because Jungkook visibly bristles when you sidestep in surprise. What was going on, your brain screams. Having your superior compare you to his infidel wife was definitely not something you saw coming tonight. “Uh, okay?” you say, “listen, Seokjin— Mr. Kim, I’m... I have a boyfriend. And I really lov—“
He cuts you off. Jungkook bristles at the sudden stop of your sentence. “Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin drawls, and you can feel the sheer terror of accidentally jeopardizing your relationship with Jungkook step aside for the briefest moment to allow some annoyance to seep through. Annoyed with Seokjin and his audacity, his tone, his voice. “Mrs. Kim used to say that about me,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A long pause. You’re unsure of how to respond. “It’s not real,” Seokjin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Love, that is.”
You clench your jaw, gathering your thoughts to respond when Seokjin beats you to it. “But you know what, love?” You don’t respond. Seokjin pushes on anyway. “Someone’s gonna cheat sooner or later— why not beat him to it?”
Your body reacts first, a startled gasp inhaled through your lips at his disrespectful preposition. Your phone slips out of your grasp. It bounces twice, lands on the ledge that gives way to the river, and you almost kick it in when Jungkook comes up behind you. “Hey, hey,” he says sternly, tugging you away from the phone you almost killed. “What’s wrong— what did he say?”
You exhale, face warm from the discomfort sitting heavy in your chest. “Nothing,” you huff, mind slightly foggy as you try to process that awkward conversation. “It’s— it was stupid,” you spit, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples, the raging anger and confusion making your head pound now.
You had always known Kim Seokjin wasn’t the most faithful man, that the infidelity ran both ways in his relationship. But you had never imagined he would ever compare you to her, his cheating wife, in an attempt to win you over. Furthermore, you’re downright disturbed by the fact he would even try to hit on you after all the mentoring he’d given you, all the polite smiles he’d flashed you, all the praise you had bestowed upon him to Jungkook.
Jungkook, whose jaw twitches as his hands graze your forearms. When you look at him again, you feel an immense wave of remorse wash over you at the way his own irritation is clouded by his worry for you. He had been wronged as well— disrespected just like you —but here he was, pushing his own emotions aside for your sake. He doesn’t want to see you upset. He was so good at dealing with your emotions, knew just what to do when things became too much.
“I’m sorry,” you mumble, lips pursed together. “I don’t know why— he’s never— I wouldn’t do that,” you settle on, voice wobbling when Jungkook’s jaw clenches. “Jungkook,” you frown, reaching for his hands, “I wouldn’t—“
He shushes you with another one of those gentle forehead bumps. “Calm down,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “I know you wouldn’t.”
Weirdly, it feels like you’ve committed a grave sin against your boyfriend. A crime. “I’m sorry,” you blubber anyway, heart thundering in your chest. “That was horrible,” you huff, desperately blinking away the stinging sensation behind your eyes. “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”
“Don’t cry,” Jungkook says, so soft and comforting; stable. You want his composure, his ability to process and understand things so quickly— his maturity. Sure he had been put off by Seokjin, but he had processed it all so quickly; adapted to the situation and stepped in to save you. Meanwhile, you nearly committed cellular murder because you couldn’t handle yourself. “He’s a weirdo,” he says, for both your sakes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.”
Still, you sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you say again, the heavy feeling in your chest lightening just a little bit when he pulls you into his arms.
“Crybaby,” he teases softly, a kiss on the crown of your head. You pinch his side. “Second phone you broke in a year.”
The mood for the riverwalk is off after that, and you only walk a few more meters before Jungkook decides it’s enough. “We can still enjoy ourselves at home,” he reassures you, and the way he tries to salvage that soft, fuzzy feeling from before is admirable. So Jungkook takes you home, holds your hand the whole drive back to your place, like he knows you’re still fragile from that extremely uncomfortable interaction, need him to hold you together. Jungkook’s emotional stability guards you like a shield, covers you in a wave of comfort as you calm down. You tell him about Seokjin’s preposition and he bristles. “Prick,” he murmurs beneath his breath, grip tightening just the tiniest bit. Your ring pinches against your skin a little painfully, but you say nothing.
There’s a box of flowers on your doorstep when you arrive, one that makes Jungkook pause at the sight. “Wonderful,” he drones, picking it up for you as you unlock the front door. It gets left on the coffee table, practically mocking the two of you as you remove your shoes and coats. “That’s your favorite flower,” Jungkook notes.
You glance at the expensive bouquet. “It is.”
Jungkook drops down onto your couch, eyes flickering to the meticulous arrangement in front of him. “You told him?” Not really. But back when you had thought Jungkook and you were engaged (read: last week), you had spent days looking at different floral shops that specialized in this flower, frequently leaving the tab open on your work computer. Seokjin must have seen it then. At your extended silence, Jungkook says, “nice.”
You frown, setting your heels on the shoe rack. “Baby, I didn’t,” you tell him softly, reaching for the zip on the back of your dress. It comes down, and after clearing your hips, it falls to the floor in a dark heap you pick up quickly. It leaves you scantily clad in a black lingerie set. Meanwhile, Jungkook drops his head back, glaring at your ceiling. Tentatively, you step over to him, toying with the fabric of your dress in your hands. “You said it was okay.”
“I know,” he sighs, an unexpected confession from him that makes you pause. Despite all you’ve been through, he still rarely highlighted situations that upset him. “It’s just,” he says, turning his head to look at your form again, eyes not drinking you in like you hoped he would. “It’s scary.”
The couch cushion dips beneath your weight when you settle beside him. “What is?”
Jungkook shrugs, avoiding your question by reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table, right beside the box of flowers Seokjin had sent. He opens up the Viki app in a flash— the one linked to his account —and has even loaded up the next episode of Secretary Kim when you question him again. “What’s scary, Jungkook?” you repeat.
On screen, there’s a beautiful scene on a bridge, the two leads happily conversing. It’s serene, something neither you nor Jungkook feel at the moment.
Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”
You pause. “What do you mean?” Leave? Where on earth would you leave to when this was your home? He doesn’t meet your gaze.
Another scene passes by on screen, some cheesy line and an even cheesier promise. Jungkook’s foot taps against the floor, the sound dull against the plush rug beneath you. It’s a nervous tick you’ve only seen him do at the height of truly stressful situations. Weird because just half an hour before you had dubbed him as the epitome of calm and collected at the river.
“I thought he was cool before.”
He did. But the word ‘cool’ didn’t always have the same meaning for Jungkook as it did for you.
In the past, Jungkook had frequently joked about having to meet Kim Seokjin and thank him for all the help he’s given you at work. After all, up until now, you had only ever had good things to say about the man, raving about his cool demeanor and respectable work ethics. Now, the memories paired with the conversation from earlier leave a bad taste in your mouth.
You’re a little confused with Jungkook right now; part of you had convinced yourself that whatever happened on the phone earlier with Seokjin was put behind you, marked off as an anomaly in the evening. After all, Jungkook himself had said it was okay. Park Seojoon appears on screen, and you can’t help but glare at the character, residue emotions from the river pushed off onto this innocent actor.
Still, Jungkook surprises you. “It’s just that—“ he sighs. And then, “what if you leave?”
You blink, eyes trained on his side profile and the way he’s nervously chewing through his bottom lip until it tints a red shade, gives way to sensitive skin when he bites too hard. “Why would I leave?”
He says nothing. On screen, Park Seojoon says something so cheesy and romantic that it would have otherwise made you cringe, made Jungkook soft. But he’s stiff as a board beside you instead. You almost think he’s going to disregard the entire conversation when he finally speaks again. “Well.” You perk up at the sound of his voice, overly aware of the way he’s started picking at the skin around his thumb again, another nasty habit you’ve been trying to help him get over. “He’s cool. Rich.”
“And so are you,” you offer, covering his hand with your own.
Jungkook ignores you, releasing a long, shaky exhale. Somehow, he’s exuding a similar energy as before; discontentment mixed with understanding. Like he’s greatly conflicted but forcing himself to remain calm. Another trembling inhale, and then Jungkook quietly recites, “everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss.”
You recoil just the slightest, brows pinched together at the absurd conclusion he’s drawn. “Baby, that was just a silly conversation,” you say slowly, slipping your hand into his. He squeezes so tight you’re afraid he’ll break your bones. “And we were joking—“
“I know!” he exclaims, enveloping your significantly smaller hand in both of his before bringing them up to his face, lips pressed against your knuckles. It’s not a kiss, more so a desperate need to feel you against him. Eyes wide, you can’t do anything but watch as that collected exterior slips away, revealing a whirlwind mess of emotions. It’s a rather unexpected show from Jungkook. “It was a joke. We were joking. But I’m—“ his jaw clenches. His voice is so tiny when he speaks again. “I get scared sometimes, __.”
His emotional outburst renders you speechless, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, hands trembling.
It’s a stark image change from the cool Jungkook that had comforted you at the river, had patted the back of your head when you had been so distraught. His chest heaves for air and you don’t know what to do; it’s always the other way around, him comforting you, that when it comes down to this you find yourself at a loss. It makes you feel like you don’t know enough about yourself or him or your relationship in general to help him, always so lost when things like this happen.
Jungkook has never been good at expressing negative emotions, always preferring to bottle them up and only show you his very best side. Granted, he’s been getting better at letting go lately, has whispered his doubts to you in the dead of night after a particularly grueling project, an uncomfortable social meeting. But he always waits until you’re half asleep and in the dark to tell you how he feels, hushed worries that you barely remember the next morning. And by then, Jungkook’s moved on from them anyway, flashes you a pretty smile and purposefully guides you away from that conversation. You know he’s started keeping a journal recently, but aside from seeing the blanks pages when he’d first gotten, you don’t have a clue what happened afterwards. It’s probably hidden away somewhere, his feelings locked up in a cupboard or a box, the secrets it holds never to be spoken of aloud.
He doesn’t like talking about his more personal problems, hoards them until you’re forced to intervene. Find him slumped over at his dining table with bags under his eyes, the skin on his lower lip bitten beyond belief.
Rarely does he sit down and express himself like this, lays his heart out carefully for you to see. Had he not said so right now, you would have never known Jungkook struggled with such doubts about you and your relationship.
(It makes your heart ache at the realization.)
Jungkook always acts like everything is okay, always forces himself to hold it together for the sake of you and, quite frankly, everyone else. He’s there when Taehyung breaks up with his girlfriends, pats him on the back and lets him run through every video game he has on his PS5. He’s there for Namjoon when his thesis becomes too much, proofreads it even though he doesn’t understand a word just for the sake of giving his best friend another perspective. Hell, he had even been there for Doyeon when her new landlord had tried to overcharge her, had carried the bulk of your argument when you ran off to try and fight with the old man.
(“He’s too nice sometimes,” she had murmured the next morning at her place. After the shouting match the night before, you had crashed with Doyeon on her new bed, your sweet boyfriend taking up her couch. Somehow, you and Jungkook had managed to knock a clean seventy-five bucks off her monthly bill. It wasn’t much, but for an apartment in the city it sure felt like a lot.
You had hummed, patting the top of his head on the way to the kitchen. “He’s a good boy,” you had said, heart thrumming when he instinctively pushed closer to your hand, nuzzling into you even in his sleep. “He cares about everyone a lot. Worries to death about his friends.”
The state of their relationship was weird; they were always fighting about one thing or another, ‘eternal enemies’ as Doyeon liked to claim.
But for the first time, she hadn’t denied they were, in fact, friends. Instead, she had quietly stood at the breakfast nook overlooking the living room with a somber look on her face that was completely unlike the Doyeon you knew. She didn’t respond with her usual backhanded compliments, didn’t even call him a gremlin either.
“He even worries about you, Miss Wicked Witch of the West,” you had teased, reaching over to pull Jungkook’s shirt down where it had ridden up, exposing his cute belly button to the cold apartment. She had sipped at her mug of coffee, eyes foggy and distant. “It just takes him a while.”
“He’s always cared about you though,” she had murmured then, and you had marked it off as her being half asleep. But Doyeon had given you this look, a look so profoundly wise, as if she was saying, “more than you’ll ever know.”)
Most importantly, Jungkook is always there for you. He holds you in his arms, strokes your back comfortingly whenever something goes wrong. Listens to your concerns and offers you advice, learns new things for the sole purpose of helping you out. Lets you make stupid decisions and always saves you at the last minute. And you want to repay him for all that, want to look after Jungkook like he does for everyone else. But it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard, when he doesn’t let you in, when he holds his emotions at bay for the sake of protecting yours. When you don’t even know where to start sometimes.
The beating of your heart is accompanied by a dramatic orchestral ensemble on screen, violins and flutes as the two lovers reconcile some issue with a kiss. Beside you, your own lover is one second away from falling apart. “Hey,” you say quietly, slipping your hand out of his to hesitantly place on his back instead. With your release, Jungkook uses his empty hands to drag over his face, hide himself from you. “I’m not going to leave you, Jungkook,” you try and comfort, “I love you.”
He shakes his head, dark locks bouncing around. “I know, I know,” he sighs, but it doesn’t sound like he believes you. It sounds like he’s forcing himself into composure again, jaw flexing as he shakes his head. “But— what if—” another aggravated huff, his thighs jumping anxiously. “You’ll get bored.” Not a question, but a statement.
“Of you?” you ask anyway. He nods. “I won’t.”
He sits up so suddenly you have to move away to avoid bumping into him. “You will,” he urges, finally looking at you, distress painted over every inch of his face. “That guy, that Seokjin, he sounds more interesting than me. He sounds cool and put together, like the world is his oyster and,” he rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You talk about him sometimes and... and you call him a god, __,” he stresses, doesn’t leave room for you to object. “And I know you’re joking, but—“ a sharp inhale, and then, quietly, “everyone gets bored of me, __.”
Your frown deepens. “But I won’t,” you argue, confident in your claim, shifting onto your knees beside him. Your dress is thrown over the armrest of the couch, and the draft in your apartment makes goosebumps rise on your bare flesh. “You’re not boring, Jungkook,” you tell him, voice softening when his features pinch up, nose wrinkling as he wards off the stinging behind his eyes.
It’s teenage trauma. Jungkook had told you at least that much before, this crippling sense of loneliness and an inferiority complex that hindered him during an influential growth period of his life. It’s why he’s so quiet when he has so much to say, why he brings you along to every party he gets invited to; he’s never felt like he was enough by himself.
Sometimes, it leaks into his confessions. “I don’t deserve you,” he says frequently, but some days you want to hot glue him to a chair and force him to listen to every reason why he does and always will deserve you or anyone for that matter. “You make me better,” he claims, but he does that all on his own, lights up the world with his smile alone.
He’s gotten better, that much you’ve learned from Namjoon and Taehyung. And even you’ve noticed it on your own, watched as he animatedly talked with his friends and his coworkers, drew people naturally to him with his warm aura.
Even still, there’s moments where he relapses. Moments like this.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs beside you, “I know I’m a handful—“
“You’re not,” you interrupt, cupping his soft cheek in your hand, turning him to face you. Jungkook leans into the touch, and your heart breaks in half when a tear escapes over his waterline, pretty eyes brimming with tears. “You’re not a handful, Jungkook,” you tell him, shuffling closer until you can press your forehead against his. The truth is, you don’t know how to comfort him, but this is how he’s always comforted you; it feels nice when he does it for you. “You’re just enough,” you say, voice soft because it feels like your precious boy is about to fall apart in your arms, his shallow breaths rivaling the volume of the television. “You’ve always been enough.”
He sniffles, and another tear tickles the side of your thumb, catching the light. “I’m sorry,” he repeats anyway, a disbelieving chuckle tacked on at the end.
“Don’t be,” you shush, pushing away a strand of hair when he leans closer. His frown is still prominent, pink lips red and soft under your thumb when you tap your finger against them. “You can tell me when things worry you, you know,” you inform him, heart swelling when his eyes fall shut and he leans into your touch. He’s so handsome, the cute little mole beneath his lip begging to be kissed. “I’ll always listen.”
Jungkook hums, breathing evening out. “I know you will,” he says. “But I like listening to your voice more, and I can’t do that when I’m talking.”
You snort and Jungkook finally lets a tiny smile slip. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after your meltdown,” you mumble, kissing his cheek softly.
Jungkook chuckles, real this time, and sniffles right afterwards. “I’ll flirt with you whenever I want.” And, because he’s just so full of surprises tonight, he sniffles once more before he’s unceremoniously tackling you back onto the couch. You squeal, the TV remote digging into your back painfully. It has the volume accidentally skyrocketing, startling the both of you with an ear-shattering orchestral piece at the height of some emotional scene. Jungkook scrambles to free the device and lower the volume before your eardrums burst. “I didn’t even know your TV could go that loud,” he says, and he’s speaking normally but the deafening violins are still reverberating in your head, making him sound quieter than he really is.
“Come here,” you say instead, and he obeys, crawling into your arms, mouth hovering just over yours. “You feeling better?”
Jungkook nods, dark hair bouncing. “You make me better,” he tries, but after tonight’s realization, you respond to his corny words with a pinch against his doughy cheek instead.
“Don’t say that,” you frown, toying with one of the earrings decorating his ear. The tip of his nose is flushed red, the exertion from crying catching up to him. His lashes are dark, probably feel so heavy with the residual tears that cling to them.
Jungkook repositions himself, guides your legs around his waist. “Why not? It’s true.” He glances at your mouth. “You make my life better.”
“Wrong,” you say bluntly, brushing his hair back with your hands. “Your own perception and understanding of your experiences makes your life better. I just happen to be in it.” Jungkook looks the tiniest bit surprised at your suddenly logical argument. “Trust me, I saw it in a documentary the other day.”
At that he laughs, full and loud, pecking your lips once with a sweet smile on his face. “Now I know you’re lying,” he grins, gently nudging his nose against yours. The drama on the TV is but a quiet hum compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest when he looks at you like that. “Because you don’t even like documentaries.”
You kiss him softly, holding his hair back for him. He tastes a little bit like the chocolate cake he had at the restaurant and the lemonade he drank (he didn’t indulge in the sweet wine with you because he needed to drive). His lips mold perfectly against yours, and he sighs softly when he finally draws back. “But I like you,” you purr.
Jungkook’s eyes darken, one heavy exhale fanning across the lower half of your face. You readjust the leg around his waist, pull him closer just the slightest bit. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after my meltdown,” he repeats, lips brushing against yours. You chuckle. “You don’t know what that means to me.” You can roughly guess, but that opportunity is taken away when Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, soft lips molding to yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, wastes no time slipping in when you open for him, hot and wet.
Jungkook’s fingers are just as warm when he trails them up the back of your thigh, pulls you impossibly closer until the buckle on his belt is pressed flush against your mound. A tiny whimper escapes your lips, chest jumping just the slightest from the pressure. It makes Jungkook pull away with an easygoing grin, chocolate eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” he murmurs, breath a little shaky from the kiss. You nod, tangling your fingers behind his head and pulling him in close again.
He evades your puckered lips, ducking down to press his own against your throat, right beneath your jaw. “Ugh,” you groan, digging your nails into his back through his satin shirt. “I wanted a kiss.”
Jungkook nips at your skin, this tiny gesture that couldn’t hurt even if he tried. “You always want a kiss,” he retorts softly, the quiet smack of his lips filling your ears as he bestows a series of smooches against your skin. And it’s so devastatingly tender how he handles you, like you’re made of glass and will break at a moment’s notice, like he wants to treasure your body for the rest of his—
Jungkook chomps down, hard, and you hiss. “Sit still,” he orders, soothing over the bite with one broad lick of his tongue.
You whimper. “That hurt.”
“And it’ll hurt even more if you keep moving,” he warns you, and before you can ask what that even means, he’s leaving another stinging bite just further down. It’s at the midway point of your neck, right in front, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat when he sucks a painful mark over it. “There,” he says, mostly to himself. “All mine.”
Your legs tighten around him, and you fight down the wave of heat that threatens to consume you when he places one final kiss over the second mark— the hickey.
Jungkook doesn’t usually leave them. In fact, you can rarely recall a time where he had purposefully gone out of his way to mark you up like this. It was always accidental, always unplanned, because he knew how troublesome it was for you to cover them up for work the next morning. Work, where your coworkers and your bosses and Seokjin could see.
Brows pinched together, your brain begins to draw a connection, one that Jungkook is soon confirming himself. “Everyone will see that now,” he hums, kissing a trail down your neck.
Of course.
You pat the back of his head in amusement, hiding a smile against his soft locks. Before you can say anything more, maybe tease him for being so cute, there’s a hand on your hip that snaps you out of your scheming. Jungkook lifts his head, does that endearing little head shake that pushes his hair out of his eyes, before leaning in for another languid kiss.
It’s even slower than the first, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with running his hands over your body now. It starts at your shoulder, teasingly snaps the strap of your bra as you push your tongue down his throat. Jungkook whimpers, that pretty sound that makes you desperate to hear more. It’s the same sound that he always makes when he wants to be pampered, wants you to kiss his entire body while he lays there and takes it.
And you’re all too ready to act on it.
Duty calls and you’re there to answer, tilting his head for him with your hands against his cheeks. He sighs against you, breath trembling as it tickles across your skin. That soft and tender way that makes you melt because he’s just so precious, so dreamy.
But you’re too caught up in your plotting to remember the hand he’s got on your hip, the one that teases the waistband of your panties with one lone finger. It’s only when Jungkook pulls away from your inviting mouth, his other hand holding you down by your shoulder, that you’re snapped back into reality. His lips are swollen and red, slick from your tongue, and so tantalizingly kissable. He huffs out a breath, eyes flickering over your face. “Can I touch you,” he husks, and gives into the temptation to press a kiss against your jaw.
“Yes, please,” you shiver, hypnotized by his hungry stare.
Jungkook wastes no time, pressing another kiss against the bruising mark over your throat that dissolves into a series of lighter smooches he trails down between your breasts. His hands come up to cup your boobs over your bra, giving them one harsh squeeze that has you releasing a long exhale as he moves between the valley and down your tummy, over your belly button. “Open,” he says at your pubic bone, carefully guiding your legs apart until you’re spread wide for him.
The dark panties you’re wearing tonight— the super expensive ones you had spent an hour measuring your body for the exact sizing —receive one light kiss over the front. “Always so pretty for me,” Jungkook murmurs, tracing one lone finger down the middle. Your stomach contracts when he nudges it against you, the soft material of your panties just barely pushed between your folds.
As his hand occupies itself with some relatively light foreplay, Jungkook tasks himself with leaving another tingling mark against your skin. This time, it’s on the inside of your thigh. He starts it off slowly, a few littered kisses against the skin until he deems one spot worthy enough and abruptly sinks his teeth into you. “Not so hard,” you whimper, reaching down to bury your hands in his hair.
Jungkook lets it go, sloppily licking over the area. “You like it hard,” he husks, meeting your gaze as he licks one, long stripe over the tender skin. “Don’t you?” You nod demurely, pressing your knuckles against your lips to hold back a tiny moan from slipping past your lips.
With that new mark blooming over your skin, Jungkook transfers his attention to your pussy, hidden beneath the soft material of your panties. One finger hooks under the hem, tucking them aside until he can see you in your entirety. “Fuck,” he groans, pressing one light kiss over your clit that makes you inhale sharply, fingers digging into his scalp. Jungkook throws one final glance your way before letting his tongue slip past his lips, the very tip flicking against your clit.
Your breathing becomes shallow, anticipation building in the pits of your stomach as he slowly but surely begins playing with you. His tongue is so warm and wet, nudges your throbbing clit, nose pressed against your mound. “Mmm,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth works wonders.
“Ah,” you gasp, whiny and high-pitched, when he dips one finger past your wet folds. The entry is seamless, his pointer finger sinking into the velvet walls of your cunt as his tongue swirls against your hardened bud. “Jungkook,” you mewl, knocking your heel against his shoulder. Jungkook huffs, suctions his lips around your clit. The cold metal of the rings he always wears— the duo set from that Chrome Hearts brand he likes so much —presses against the trembling lips of your pussy, makes your back arch when he twists his finger inside of you.
He’s so precise with his tongue, knows just how long and how hard to lick against your pulsing clit until you’re trembling, thighs quivering. Briefly, he pulls away, flicks his hair to the side in one suave motion that lets you see his dark eyes when he glances back up at you again, covered in a thick sheen of lust that makes them appear almost black as opposed to his usual warm brown. His hands reach for the waistband of your panties, tug them off with one fluid pull.
“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, the end of his words laced with a slight rasp that makes your hips jump. “All for me,” he says, roughly pushing his finger into you again. The harshness makes your entire body tighten up in surprise, eyes fluttering shut when he slips his middle finger alongside his pointer this time around.
“Baby, wait,” you whimper, walls fluttering around the two digits. Jungkook leans back in, presses a chaste kiss against your clit that makes your breathing stall as he thrusts his fingers into you.
He ignores your cries, locks his lips at the juncture where your thigh meets your body, sensitive skin that bruises all too easily when he sucks against it too hard. “Only for me,” he sighs, all pretenses discarded as he begins rapidly and roughly fucking his fingers into you. It’s intense, has your thighs quaking as he speeds them up.
The coil in your stomach tightens, and you have to bite down on your knuckles to stop the litany of whimpers from slipping past your lips when Jungkook ducks down again. He bypasses your quivering clit, warm tongue licking at the warm, wet folds around his fingers instead. The proximity makes the tip of his round nose brush along the length of your cunt, a sight and sensation that makes you moan, his bangs harshly tugged away from his forehead to give you the perfect view.
It’s with a particularly hard shove and twist combination of his fingers into your clenching walls that you cum, a gasp caught in your throat as your hips push toward him, chasing the feeling Jungkook bestows upon you. Your breathing is a mess, inhales too short, your exhales inconsistent, as Jungkook slows the speed of his fingers inside of you, lets your cum ooze out around them, coat his fingers and his rings.
“No,” you cry, watching that look come over his face when he withdraws his hand, the look that usually follows him sucking your cum into his mouth. “Jungkook, you don’t have to do that—” you whine, reaching for his wrist and yanking it towards you.
Jungkook follows, crawls back up beside you as he chases his own sticky fingers. “It’s mine,” he urges, has this weird look in his eyes you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. And just as quickly as it crosses his features, he’s lurching forward to catch his own fingers in his mouth. It’s lewd, the way his tongue wraps around them, leaves them sleek under the TV glow, tattoos and rings glistening. He has the audacity to moan, eyes fluttering shut as his devious tongue slips down between his fingers, so long and precise. There’s a tiny noise that tears itself from your throat, one that has him flickering his clouded gaze up to you as his fingers are released from between his own lips. “You like that,” he murmurs, wet fingers trailing down your cheek, capturing your chin to turn your face his way completely.
His tongue is sinful as it slips past your lips again, the tangy taste of yourself clinging to him. His breathing feels hot, suffocating. But his kisses are so good, make your mind go blank. So blank, that the fingers that rub at your clit surprise you completely. “Kook,” you gasp, breaking away from him in surprise.
Jungkook doesn’t let you get far, capturing your mouth with his again. The two fingers you had felt on your chin are gone, firmly pressed against your swollen clit, experimentally rubbing against it. Never mind the fact you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, thighs quivering when he drags them against the wet, soft skin. It makes you shudder, breaking away from him a second time for a desperately needed inhale of fresh air. Jungkook follows behind closely, pressing kisses over your jawline, your chin, as his fingers continue moving against your clit.
He has them pressed together, rubbing at the front of your slit where that bundle of nerves is hidden. It makes your stomach contract, hips jerking forward into the touch in an effort to match him, to speed up the process. “You were made for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook huffs against your cheek, nose pressed against your skin because he’s just so close, practically molded into your side as his fingers send rhythmic shocks of ecstasy up your spine.
Your mouth drops open, stuttered gasps filtering through your lips as Jungkook takes advantage of your sensitive body to draw out another orgasm. But there’s a weird sensation that builds in your stomach this time, one that brings with it a sense of panic. “Wait—“ you gasp, fisting the silky material of his shirt beneath one clenched fist. “Jungkook,” you warn, toes curling.
He responds with a harsh nip against your lower lip that makes you whimper. “Go ahead,” he purrs, rubbing his fingers over you at an insane speed, one that has your juices sloppily spread over your pussy, makes you buck into him and moan against his mouth.
The feeling grows, an intense, unfamiliar thing that you rarely recall ever feeling before, gasping for air as Jungkook’s fingers caress your clit, pressing down hard. “Fffuck, fuck,” you sob, mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes rolling backwards as you feel your pussy lips contract harder than ever before, thighs quivering as your juices squirt out of you, lower body reduced to jello as Jungkook quickens his movements, wrists jerking back and forth as your pleasure sprays out of you. “Ju— Jungkook,” you wail, forcefully slamming your thighs shut when he doesn’t stop, the pleasure seemingly never-ending under such a torturous touch. “Stop—stop,” you beg, eyes filling with tears that spill over when his trapped hand manages one final rough rub against your clit accompanied by a final gush of wetness.
Only then does he stop, leaning back on his knees to drink you in with dark eyes that make you quiver. There’s no trace of his usual post-orgasm cockiness, the smile he’ll flash you, the teasing jabs. Nothing, just a frankly terrifying gaze that has you self-consciously pressing your hands over your chest.
Jungkook doesn’t take kindly to it, roughly snatching one of your wrists up until you’re sitting up, the traces of your own orgasm present in the damp couch cushions beneath you, inner thighs coated in a thin sheen of your own pleasure. Jungkook leans in close, nose bumping against yours. “You came like that for me,” he says quietly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You nod, eyes wide and teary when he reaches for the front of his shirt, giving it the same treatment he usually gives yours; two hands at the front, yanking it apart until the buttons are torn from their stitches and bouncing across your floor.
He throws it off to the side, his tan skin highlighted by the cool tones of the television, the dark sleeve of his tattoo especially prominent. The black ink almost looks blue under this light. You’re so distracted by the perfect swirls and doodles on Jungkook’s skin that you don’t realize that same hand is reaching for you until it’s too late, long fingers wrapping around your throat to jerk you forward, head tipping back to look up at him. “Say it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Tell me you’re mine.”
The fingers around your throat squeeze once and then slowly begin tightening. You gasp, meeting his hooded gaze with yours, lips quivering for a response that’s stuck in your throat, trapped by your own surprise and tightening airways. Frantically, you reach for his wrists with both hands, not to pull Jungkook’s hand away, but to ground yourself from the hazy cloud of lust the moment evokes.
Still, your body isn’t as strong as you thought, and once Jungkook reaches a certain tightness around your throat you find yourself coughing. Instantly, he loosens his grip. But not too much. “I- I’m yours,” you rasp out, gasping for air.
For now, it satisfies Jungkook enough for him to release you. And while you’re grateful for the rush of fresh air that fills your lungs, the phantom ghost of his grip around your throat sends a new gush of wetness between your thighs. One that grows tenfold when Jungkook reaches for his belt, undoes it easily. It comes off with one fluid motion, carelessly shucked off to the side as his attention moves to the front of his pants instead.
He doesn’t let you sit around uselessly. “On your knees,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “Sit on your knees facing the table.”
You blink slowly, the dry tears on your cheeks leaving stiff trails against your makeup. It takes a moment for your brain to process his request, one long second that has Jungkook pausing in his movements, leveling you with one solemn glare that eventually has you springing into action. You hastily slip off the couch, shuffling toward the coffee table between it and the television. The rug is soft beneath your knees, a luxury you can’t enjoy to the fullest because there’s a ball of excitement and fear stuck in your throat. (Right beneath your bruised skin and recuperating windpipes.) Sitting back on your calves, it feels like every nerve is standing stiff as you await his instructions.
“Bra off,” Jungkook says from behind you, and you’re startled by the sudden ripping of stitches behind you, almost turning to look at him. He stops you with one hand around the back of your neck, drawing a surprised gasp from you. “Sit still,” he commands, your back stiff straight, eyes focused on the screen. After a beat, Jungkook lets you go, pats the back of your head gingerly. “Good girl.”
A whimper catches in your throat at the praise, and you barely manage to bite down on it in time, hurriedly reaching behind you. Your hands fidget over the clasps on your bra, and you nearly jump out of your skin when one lone finger traces down your spine, undoing your bra for you. You don’t know why, but you say, “thank you.”
The television changes scenes in front of you, the bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness of Jungkook’s eyes. Your hands tremble in front of you, fingers anxiously tangling with each other. A few inches beside you, there’s a dark red box filled with the flowers from—
Suddenly, your vision goes dark, hands instinctively reaching up to your eyes. The pads of your fingers come in contact with a soft material, smooth and silky. Just like— “Is this… ?” you murmur, hands sliding across the makeshift blindfold Jungkook’s made for you, the same texture as his shirt had been.
He doesn’t grace you with an answer, just a hand against your hip as he, presumably, settles behind you. “Does it matter?” Jungkook says instead, voice all too close to your ear. Your entire body locks up, hands quickly returning to their spot against the coffee table.
Just as you’d suspected, Jungkook is all too close now, hands crawling over your body. They start at your waist, massage the skin tenderly, lovingly, before gliding up to cup your breasts. You shiver, a quiet exhale escaping you as Jungkook rubs his palms over your boobs, trapping your stiff nipples between his fingers. A sound threatens to escape you, and you trap it behind a bitten lip, fists clenched against the table before you. “You know,” Jungkook says conversationally, like he’s not pinching your nipples enough to make you squirm. “Who else do you think can make you come like this?”
You brain lags. “W- What?” you stutter, thighs pressing together to ward away the arousal. Not like they’re already sticky from before, from when Jungkook had made you squirt.
Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, pressing a kiss against your shoulder that he trails up to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Who else,” he says slowly, “can make you come like this?”
It’s not a trick question— no one could. You tell Jungkook as much. “I— no one,” you answer, rolling your lips in when he kisses the tender spot beneath your ear again.
His kisses feel loud, but not as loud as his voice when he says, “exactly.” You swallow, gripping at the edge of the coffee table when he releases your boobs, trails one hand between your thighs, the other around your throat to pull you backwards against his chest. It makes your hands flail, landing against the tops of his thick thighs.
Jungkook holds you close, fingers tightening around your throat teasingly. “No one else can please you like you want,” he exhales, letting his fingers trail over your skin. “Not the guy on tv, not your exes, not the fucking loser at your job,” he hisses, lips against your ear. “No one,” he reiterates, voice softer now as he presses a kiss against you. “No one but me.”
And it’s true.
You can’t even muster your usual mouthy, bratty attitude when Jungkook serves you cold hard facts like this. Not when you can feel his aching member press against the small of your back, rest perfectly in the slight dip between your ass cheeks. “Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” he murmurs, voice low.
You nod, tummy tightening when he uses the hand between your thighs to spread them apart. “Only you,” you agree, voice feathery.
Jungkook hides a grin against your skin, a mean chuckle escaping him when he rests his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he says, releasing your throat. “Such a good girl,” he praises, hands on your hips again. He uses them to encourage you up onto your knees, hips bumping into the edge of the table as he shuffles you forward. “Bend,” he says quietly, palm flat on the center of your back, pushing you down until your belly button is pressed against the cold wood, boobs swinging forward just the slightest. “Perfect.”
Jungkook shuffles up behind you, soothes a hand over your hip when you flinch at the first press of his cock against your folds. “You’re okay,” he comforts, voice like honey as he lines himself up. Your folds are slippery and wet, loose from your arousal and the two orgasms he’s already given you.
Despite all that, the first push of his engorged cock past the tight muscles makes you gasp. “Baby, that’s,” you moan, nails scratching against the coffee table to make a sound that you would otherwise find uncomfortable. “I—“
Jungkook pants behind you, cock sinking further and further in. “I’ve got you,” he husks. His voice is like the light at the end of the tunnel, your dark vision forcing you to rely on him entirely as he guides you through the motions. “Made for me,” he repeats, voice airy.
You nod jerkily, arms trembling as his cock plunges deeper inside of you. “Made for you,” you gasp, head falling forward, forehead pressed against the cold surface in front of you.
He moans, and there’s one deafening moment of silence when he finally reaches the hilt, soft pubic hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your folds. It’s a familiar sensation, having him buried inside of you, but it’s always different when he’s doing it from behind. He always feels fuller, bigger, mushroom tip practically kissing your cervix.
“Kook,” you whimper, walls unintentionally contracting around him when he lingers a second too long. “Move.”
“Fuck, fuck,” he curses behind you. “I know, it’s just—“ he pauses, squeezes your hip so hard, you’re certain it’ll bruise. “I wanna… y’know,” he groans, dropping his head against your back, warm breath fanning across your slightly sweaty skin.
It makes something in your stomach click into place, shifting back just the slightest. The small drag around your lips makes you brave. “Then do it,” you urge, desperate for any sort of friction.
Jungkook practically growls, bucking into you once. “No,” he says, like he’s battling with himself, faced with a mental hurdle he can only cross alone. “You don’t understand,” he sneers, suddenly snapping back into position behind you, pulling you flush against his pelvis once more. It makes you whimper.
“I kinda do—“
“You don’t,” Jungkook hisses, forcefully thrusting his hips into you enough to make your hips knock painfully against the edge of the coffee table, a startled moan falling from between your lips. And from there, it’s like you’ve unleashed a beast, because Jungkook shows you no mercy as he begins fucking you, his fat cock slipping in and out of you, his angry head flirting with your entrance. “I wanna fucking breed you,” he sneers, fingers digging into the skin around your waist to hold you still as he bucks his hips forward.
His vulgarity makes your skin heat up, the warmth probably tangible over your sloppily made blindfold, eyes wide despite the fabric that covers them. “That—” you gasp, thighs trembling with each powerful thrust.
“It’s too much, I fucking know,” he huffs dryly, releasing one hip to press against your shoulders, roughly shoving you forward until your breasts are pressed against the surface, arms bent up beside you to stop yourself from hitting your head. “But— But,” he shudders, suddenly stopping his thrusts to grind his cock against you instead, pussy lips quivering around his girthy member. “I wanna,” he pants, “wanna see you so fucking full of me, because— you’re mine, __,” he seethes, “right?”
You nod blindly, dumbly, brain too flooded with the stimulation he’s bestowing upon you to think properly. “I- I am,” you confirm, gasping for air. “And you’re mine,” you manage to get out, one hand slapping down against the coffee table when he draws his cock out, slams himself back into you quickly.
“I’m yours,” Jungkook slurs behind you, slowly picking up his pace again. The hand on your back lets go, and it’s with trembling arms that you manage to push yourself back onto your forearms, one hand blindly reaching for the hand he’s got gripping at your hips.
“Oh my god,” you whimper, the sounds coming from your connected bodies so lewd and obscene, disgustingly wet when Jungkook slips back inside. He surges forward again, and you try to catch your balance, knees quivering underneath the force of his thrusts. Your hand slides over the tabletop in a feeble effort to hold onto something, anything. You can’t see, and even if you could there’s not much to hold onto on a flat surface.
Except the box your hand knocks into. Your confusion lasts for only about a second because then Jungkook is ramming his cock into you, over and over, until you’re certain your hips are going to bruise and your knees are going to give out. Jungkook’s moans are soft and feathery, sighs that fan over your shoulder and make your back arch, eyes rolling backwards for the briefest second as if you were possessed.
“Mine,” he whimpers, desperate and needy, fingernails digging into your skin as he pushes on. “Gonna be mine forever,” he growls. “Gonna— Gonna be so pretty and big,” he moans, “tits so fucking full.” The image he puts in your mind makes you dizzy.
You nod dumbly, knuckles bumping against the box a second time. “Jungkook,” you choke out, fingers blindly nudging the box aside. But there’s no strength behind it, your entire body feeling weak and useless, all the energy concentrated in the coil in your stomach, the one that grows and tightens with every entrance of Jungkook’s cock into your pulsing walls. “There’s— There’s something,” you gasp, pinky finger tapping against it.
Behind you, Jungkook stills, harsh breaths deafeningly loud. Louder than the television and the corny music that plays, the mindless chatter of the characters you couldn’t name even if you tried. “Why would you...” Jungkook huffs, irritation lacing his words.
You don’t get to question it, because a second later his finger is tucking itself beneath your blindfold, yanking it off carelessly. It makes your head crane backwards, a tiny yelp torn from your lips as the blinding glow of the TV attacks your poor eyes at full force. Jungkook’s long since stopped his rapid thrusts, and it’s only when you glance off to the side that you realize why.
It’s the stupid box of flowers Seokjin had sent you, the one Jungkook had placed on the coffee table when you first got home.
Behind you, Jungkook releases one long exhale, both of you looking at the arrangement with various degrees of discomfort. “Did you like them,” he murmurs, cock throbbing inside of you.
You shake your head, a soft, “no,” falling from your lips. The muscles in your thighs quiver like mad.
Jungkook says nothing, but you watch as one inked arm stretches out from behind you, the movement of his hips pushing his cock deeper into you. A tiny whimper catches in your throat, watching as Jungkook hooks a finger over the lip of the box. One swift tug has it gliding over the tabletop, coming to a stop right beside your forearm. Jungkook leans back, the silence terrifying.
“Did you think they were pretty?” he asks, tracing one finger down your spine. Your lower lip trembles as your eyes scan over the bouquet, at the pretty color selection and lovely scent that joined together to overwhelm your senses.
“No,” you say, but it feels like a lie.
And Jungkook thinks so too, wrapping one hand around your throat and pulling you back forcefully. It’s the same as he did earlier, but with his cock deep inside your pussy, it sends a shock throughout your entire nervous system, a sob tearing itself from within you as he unintentionally pushes himself deeper inside. “Did you,” he says a second time, practically seething, “think Seokjin’s flowers were pretty?”
Your eyes flicker nervously across the screen in front of you, but everything is a blur, Jungkook’s harsh breathing against your ear. “Yes,” you confess, whimpering when his fingers tighten around your throat, press down against your windpipe as he inhales sharply. “But they’re just flow—“ He squeezes your throat so hard, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mind growing fuzzy. Eventually, he lets go and you dissolve into a fit of coughs, bent over the coffee table again as Jungkook slips his stiff cock out from within you. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, throwing a teary-eyed look over your shoulder.
What you’re not expecting is for Jungkook to grab that same shoulder and roughly push you onto your side away from the coffee table, falling onto the fluffy rug as he shoves you down. “Something pretty for a pretty girl,” he sneers, biting down a frankly maniacal grin.
“What?” you exhale, probably looking at him with the same maniacal look in your eyes.
(You were made for each other, so crazy and in love.)
Jungkook stretches one toned arm out, and you flinch when he uses that same beautiful arm to send the box of flowers flying over the edge of the coffee table, a hard thwack resounding throughout the room when they land face down on the other side, petals against the floor, water dripping out from inside.
With those out of the way, Jungkook wastes no time flipping you over, face shoved down against the soft rug as he angles your hips up. “Thinking about someone else when I’m right here,” he growls, ramming his cock back into you with no warning. You sob, clawing at nothing as he bucks forward. “What a mean girl,” Jungkook scolds.
“I- I wasn’t,” you defend weakly, shivering as he snaps his hips against you, the rug irritating your cheek when the motion sends you forward. Jungkook uses the hands on your hips to pull you back, your skin clapping together loudly.
“You think Seokjin would— would fuck you like this?” he spits, using you like a toy as he fucks basically for himself, cock sliding in and out of your squelching walls. “You think he’d push you down and—and call you a stupid girl?”
You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut to fight the wave of tears threatening your waterline. Truthfully, it doesn’t make much of a difference, especially not when Jungkook yanks your hips back again, your entrance sensitive from all the friction. “No, no,” you sob. ”He wouldn't.”
Jungkook scoffs, not bothering to slow his pace down. “Of course he wouldn’t,” he spits, and then, strikes your ass. Two hard cracks of his palm, rings and all, against the globes of your ass. You wail, unconsciously jerking away only for Jungkook to drag you back. “Stupid girl,” Jungkook sighs, cock twitching inside of you. You can feel the beads of precum oozing out from the tip of his cock inside you, their warmth making you shudder.
Your other ass cheek receives the same treatment, two harsh smacks that leave the skin tingling, blood rising to the surface. “Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeats, palms rubbing over your cheeks for a brief second, only to strike down again. “Aren’t you?” You nod, fat tears dripping out of the corner of your eyes and down onto the fluffy rug beneath you. Your behind stings, pain blossoming over your skin. But it’s the good kind, the one that has drool escaping from the corner of your lips from how overwhelmed it leaves you.
“I- I’m a stupid girl,” you agree, your words punctuated by a series of tiny sobs and sniffles. Your walls feel sensitive, raw, from his thrusts. You’re ready to come, trembling hands slithering down to reach for your clit.
“Don’t,” Jungkook warns, snatching your arm up and twisting it behind you.
You cry, tears and drool against the rug. “I wanna come,” you whimper, trying your other hand only for it to meet a similar demise. “Please,” you sniffle, turning your face the other way as if the angle will somehow be different.
“You don’t come until I say so,” Jungkook hisses, using his grip on your wrists to tug you onto his cock. You moan, choke on your own saliva from the force, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix for real this time. It renders you stupid, just like Jungkook had called you, chin trembling as your eyes roll backwards. Behind you, Jungkook grunts something deep and raspy. “Fffuck,” he spits, pistoning his hips into your inviting heat. “You were doing so good tonight—“ a particular brutal buck of his hips, a loud moan torn from your lips “—but first those fucking flowers and now this?”
The rhythm of his deep thrusts cut your moans into stuttered little cries, your words broken with every ram of his cock inside of you. Your walls feel worn, every brush sending a tingling shock up your spine. “I- I’m sorry,” you weep, shoulders shaking from your own tears and the rumbling orgasm that’s just about ready to snap.
Jungkook says nothing, too busy shoving his cock inside of you to grace you with a response. Instead, you’re subjected to his relentless thrusts, sharp gasps from his pretty mouth. “Fuck,” he pants, releasing your wrists after one particular thrusts, your walls clenching around him painfully when he draws his cock out.
“I can’t,” you sniffle, knees giving out before he can catch you, sadly sinking down onto the plush rug. “Kook, I—”
Jungkook makes a sound, something between a growl and a roar in the back of his throat as he follows behind you, planting two firm hands on the sides of your head to use as leverage to fuck himself in. With your thighs pressed flat together, the squeeze is tighter than ever before, and your eyes roll backwards as he gets to work, walls fluttering from the overstimulation.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants, all games thrown aside as he begins pounding his cock past your folds, deep into your contracting walls, until that tight spring in your stomach gives out and you’re clenching up beneath him, entire body going stiff for one long beat.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you weep, thighs quivering as you cream his cock, make his movements so slippery and wet, almost dangerous when he’s going this fast. His name falls from your trembling lips, every nickname and pet name you’ve ever given him mindlessly blubbered through your orgasm. Jungkook pays you no mind, thighs tensing up as he chases his high, short breaths and moans filling the space as he fucks himself into you. Until, finally, a few deep strokes later, he’s coming with a shuddered cry of your name on his tongue, collapsing over you, forehead pressed to your back as he catches his breath.
“Fuck,” he groans one last time, body going slack very quickly. He slumps down beside you, softening cock slipping out of your tender folds.
The floor between the coffee table and the couch is dark, the television glow not reaching down here. Even still, the sweat clinging to Jungkook makes him look like a sparkly Twilight vampire, the dip between his pecs collecting the smallest pool of sweat. You can’t stop yourself from running your pointer finger along the skin, over his nipple. His pec jumps deliciously under the attention. “Stop,” Jungkook sighs, catching your wrist in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles in an attempt to distract you. “Or I’ll really get you pregnant next time.”
You push yourself onto your elbows, pinching his doughy cheek. “You won’t,” you tease. Jungkook flicks his hair away from his eyes to level you with a look you’ve never seen before, not a trace of his usual post-sex playfulness to be found. It has you retracting your hand, eyes wide when he doesn’t stand down. Still, you can’t lose. “...No you won’t,” you repeat, quieter, almost unsure. Almost a question.
Jungkook rolls his eyes, tugging you into his arms. He’s all sweaty and sticky, just like you. He’s lucky he doesn’t have four separate loads of cum— three from you, one from him —sticking between his thighs. “Keep telling yourself that,” he pants, so smoothly. Too smoothly. It makes you clench your thighs, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Stop it,” he warns a second time.
“You’re just so dreamy,” you whine, sitting back up to play with his hand. “Like, when you made me squirt?” He chuckles softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Not gonna lie, I thought I saw the answer to the universe for a second.”
He’s worn out today, more than usual, that he doesn’t bother gracing you with a response. But it had been a long day for Jungkook; from planning an entire date, to the Seokjin debacle, to the crazy hot sex he’d gifted you. It was only reasonable. You reward his efforts with a soft peck against his cheek that makes him smile, a light blush painting his cheeks. “You did good today,” you hum, patting chest comfortingly.
“Felt like I was in a Viki drama,” he confesses after a moment, has that tiny smile on his face that makes the apples of his cheeks especially round, especially cute. “The kind that have twelve plot lines going on.”
You laugh, snuggling beside him. The rug feels dirty, but so do you so the feeling is cancelled out or whatever. “You’d be the Park Seojoon of any Viki drama,” you tell him, and Jungkook laughs.
That loud and airy one he reserves only for you.
epilogue
Namjoon calls Jungkook’s phone a little after eleven, talking your ear off about some date he’d gone on while Jungkook is in the shower. You tell him about what happened with Seokjin and like all respectable college mentors, he just about flips. “You can sue him,” Namjoon hisses, furious for you. Not that you aren’t anymore, but in a weird act of impulsiveness, Jungkook had gone outside and ran the stupid box of flowers over with his car as you watched from the open window of your apartment. It was weirdly cathartic.
He’s in the shower now, humming the lyrics to one of the songs from Secretary Kim, a song called It’s You by Jeong Sewoon (thank you, Shazam), that makes every inch of your body overflow with adoration when he hits that long note. Anyway, you’re perusing the rest of the streaming service for a movie to watch. Jungkook said you couldn’t watch Train to Busan tonight, something about it ruining the mood. So now you’re debating between a historical romcom or a modern romcom.
Over the line, Namjoon is doing all the raging for you. “Men are trash,” he huffs one last time, before eventually letting it go. (For now.) “Hey, do you know how to cover up hickeys?” he asks suddenly, just as Jungkook reappears in the living room. His skin is glowing, looking like the hottest man alive. The window is still open, a feeble attempt to air out the smell of sex in the room, and the draft makes Jungkook shiver because his hair is still a little wet.
“Hickeys?” you repeat, stretching a hand out for him as he rounds the couch. Jungkook takes it, places a soft smooch against your knuckles, close to your promise ring. Your heartbeat stutters just as Namjoon hums.
“Yeah, this girl,” he says, cutting himself off with a laugh. One you recognize all too well because it’s the same one you let out when you talk about Jungkook to other people. Said boy settles close beside you, leans his cheek against your head when you snuggle into his neck. As soon as he’s there, you lose all rights to the remote, watching as Jungkook completely disregards all your searching just to click back onto Secretary Kim. He had missed a whole episode. “We went a little crazy tonight—“ you gag at the image Namjoon places in your head “—and Doyeon bites kinda hard—“
“Doyeon?” you interrupt, all mental processes coming to an abrupt halt as the name bounces around your mind. Jungkook, having mastered the art of listening in on your phone calls by now, freezes beside you. “You know a Doyeon?”
“Yeah!” Namjoon says excitedly as you sit up. Jungkook meets your gaze, big Bambi eyes giving the performance of a lifetime, and gives your this overly innocent shrug of his shoulders that tells you more about what he does know than what he doesn’t. “Kim Doyeon. She went to your school— actually, she graduated with you and Kook.”
The world comes to a complete stop as you glare at Jungkook, his panicked features cueing you in to the fact he was aware of this, as you’d suspected. “Namjoon,” you say slowly, fist tightening around Jungkook’s phone. “Are you aware you’re fucking my best friend?”
There’s a long silence on the other end, Namjoon presumably processing the information while Jungkook tries to calm the boiling anger within you. “He didn’t know,” Jungkook whispers, big pretty eyes on you as he tries to save Namjoon from you.
All his efforts are in vain when Namjoon clears his throat and so eloquently says, “and you’re fucking my best friend?”
epi-epilogue
The Best Buy employee doesn’t ask questions when you and Jungkook go in to get your cracked phone screens repaired. He does, however, give Jungkook an over-exuberant sales pitch on a brand new line of computer monitors that are almost as big as the television at your house.
You try to save him from the dangerous hands of capitalism, but the Hello Kitty bandaids decorating your neck are itchy, the skin still so tender, so sometimes it’s wiser to let him waste his money than argue otherwise.
“Good girl,” Jungkook says as he swings your arms back and forth on your walk to the car, impressed by the fact you didn’t argue with him in a Best Buy today. “My perceptions and understanding of you in my life make me happy,” he beams, too smiley as he unlocks the doors.
“Shut up,” you glare, painfully tearing the stupid bandaids off your neck as soon as you get in, brandishing the blossoming hickeys Jungkook had so graciously given you last night. At the sight, he bites down a smile. “You’re about to perceive and understand these fists.”
And Jungkook smiles— he always smiles —as he leans over the center console to press his mouth against the darkened skin at the front of your neck, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over your promise ring. “Perceive this love,” he says, so cheesy it makes you gag.
“Goddd,” you groan, pushing him away before he can see the smile on your face. “Someone get this man a Viki deal.”
Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.
#networkbangtan#bangtanhq#jungkook smut#jeon jungkook smut#jeon jungkook x reader#jungkook fic#jjk smut#jeon jungkook fic#jeon jungkook x reader smut#bts jungkook#bts fic#bts smut#mine
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Total Drama Villains x Reader || Drabble Set
Plot: You forget to take a towel to the shower and only realise after the shower, so you open the window to stick your head out and ask whoever's out there (Hoping someone is out there) to grab you one but to your chagrin- there's just a villain.
Includes: Chris, Heather, Mal and Scott.
Warnings: Mmmm, I dont think so. Swearing? A kiss?
~~~
All:
You slowly look around the room, very very aware of the fact that you're naked and cold in a room that does not have a great lock on it. "Ohhhhhh no." The words come out low and steady... but are just brimming with panic.
No. Towel.
No towel!!
Finally you gasp, covering the bottom half of your face with your hands and looking at the benches and the sinks in dread. You accidentally came in here without a towel!!
The sudden sound of footsteps out the back of the cabin rips a gasp from your throat and you lunge at the window, unlatching the lock and opening it to see who it is. Before you even stick your head out, you're calling for whoever it to stop. Please. Hold on! I need your help!
Chris McLean:
*You are an adult camper.
When you actually see who's standing out there, you groan. Chris McLean stands outside on the grass, hands in his pockets and an intrigued look in his eyes. He know's he's about to be amused, or he's going to amuse himself depending on what kind of trouble you're in- or what kind of help you apparently need.
"What's up?~"
"Nevermind."
"Oh no no no! Come on, you can confide in Uncle Chris, cant you?"
A whine tumbles out of you. Uncle Chris?? Grooooooooss. He see's and acknowledges your disgusted reaction to him calling himself that, but just giggles. He doesn't leave, to your utter annoyance.
What other choice do you have?? Rolling your eyes, you look down at your feet instead of meeting his beady eyes and wiggle your toes. And mutter suuuuper quietly, half hoping he doesn't hear you. "I forgot to bring a towel... and I really need one... " And, this part you say especially quietly. For seriously asking Chris fucking McLean for a hand would be akin to letting your dignity pack its bags and fly the coop. "... and would you please get one for me... "
"... Sorry, I didn't catch that. What didja say?"
Oh god. A little louder, you say shortly. "... I forgot a towel... "
Chris smirks at that, rolling back on the feels of his feet. "And? What would you like from me, Y/N?"
Finally too frustrated to keep playing this stupid game with the show's host, you snap your eyes up to his and cross your arms. "Fine! Damnit. Get me a towel, please."
Immediately, a cat like grin slowly spreads across Chris' face. Its the most evil thing you have ever seen.
"Now why would I do that when I could get Chef here to send in a buncha rabid bats with you and flush you out?" Christ teases - no, threatens. But then again, does he know the difference in the first place? - , that famous, alabaster white, terror instilling grin on his face as usual. "Now that's, good TV!"
You groan, head falling back on your neck, in frustration. "Chrr-ris!!"
"Ha ha! Well? What do you expect?" You cant argue with that, but you cans till groan again. "Okay, fine. I'll get you a towel! But what will you do for me, heh? Nothing comes for free."
"Oh, don't I know it. I've been on this show for 3 seasons now." For some reason.
"Heh heh."
"Fine, I'll... " Ugh, something for Chris... You blow air out of your cheeks slowly, in thought. What would Chris like? Well, he'd sure get kick out of you getting one of your friends hurt but that's sure as hell not happening. Finally, after a few moments, you get an idea. And scowl. "I'll be sure to drum up some drama for you. Good TV, right?"
"For sure! Promise?~"
Sighing, you lean tiredly on the window sill. "Oh, I cross my heart and hope to die." You promise him like he's a child, which he basically is. Chris McLean has got the maturity level and the intelligence package of a 7 year old on crack.
"Wicked! Heh heh, this'll be good. Okay, hang tight. I'll be back."
You smirk at his retreating back.
~
When he finally gets back and hands you a towel - a much nicer towel then what you and the other campers have been using. Which is nice? But also, you cant help but worry about what kind of strings might be attached to it, - through a crack in the door, you carefully wrap it around your body and tightly tuck it in.
"I'll want that towel back" He snaps, cranky. Why?? He could've just gone and gotten you your towel! "I imported that from Fiji!"
Of course he did.
Now you take a deeeeeeep breath, gathering all your courage, and killing the butterflies reeking havoc in your stomach. Then open the door again and grab hold of the front of Chris' signature teal shirt and wrench him close before he can walk too far off.
And you smash your lips together and slam your eyes tightly closed.
When you pull back from the kiss - a horrible, unpleasant, bad kiss, - you immediately wipe your mouth with your arm and let him go. But when you reveal your mouth again, you're for damn sure smirking at the stunned man. "Is that dramatic enough for you, Chris? A camper and the host? Scandalous- I bet we'll be front page news."
Then quickly you lock yourself inside the bathroom again, not really caring for his reaction- which only comes, finally, minutes later when you're half way dressed.
"DAMN IT Y/N!!"
Heather:
"Hm." Heather crosses her arms, an evil smirk on her lips- opportunity has knocked on her door. Or, the inside of the shower cabin. "You need something from me. Well! What will you do for me return? Hm?"
As expected. "I will vote for whoever you want me to at 2 different instances of your choice going forward. Except for myself, I wont vote myself out."
She thinks for a moment, but definitely looks pleased. "Three, different instances of my choice."
Fucks sake- "Fine! Just- please! I'm getting cold and one of the boys could come in here at any time and see me butt ass naked!!"
Uncrossing her arms and setting her hands on her hips instead, Heather laughs. "Oh- one of these boys? Shower? Haha. Have you smelled them??"
You blush darkly at her joking with you; At your worry but not your expense, before shaking your head of silly feelings and usher the pretty girl Heather, forward. "Go! Go! Get my towel already."
"Be right back." She rolls her eyes, heading off.
~
When she gets back, she reaches up to the window with the towel and you gratefully take it, beginning to dry off any drips from your body and get dressed as quickly as possible. "Thank you Heather!!"
"Mhm, yeah. Sure."
A few minutes later when you leave the door, Heather's waiting for you on the porch and you basically have a small stroke- jesus christ, why is she there!? STILL!?
"Oh, relax. I'm just cashing in some of your part of the bargain." She sneers, walking closer to you and pressing a sharp fingernail into your chest. "Dont forget, you owe me now."
"I remember Heather, we did this like 10 minutes ago."
"Good." She smiles, a tint of evil to it still. Pleasantly surprised that you're being so obedient. She leans back. "Okay, so Gwen's got to go. You got that? She's out. Vote for her and you're third done with your debt to me."
"Yes ma'am." You smirk, brushing by her and stalking off back to your cabin to put away your things.
Heather watches, hands on her hips and her own smirk on her lips. You might just be useful out of this bunch of losers. Not quite a diamond in the rough, but... better, at least. For sure. "Hm."
Mal:
"Oh- Mike!" You exclaim excitedly as soon as you see the lanky, dark haired boy. What luck!!
But then he slowly turns around; A dark, sinister grin on his face and hair over one eye. And your heart immediately drops.
This is not Mike. Neither is it Chester, Svetlana, Vito or Manitoba- any of which would have been just fine alternatives for this moment.
This has to be fucking Mal. You've met him before, and absolutely nevermind on the luck front.
"Nope." Yep- the grizzly, deep voice that responds to you can belong to no one other then Mike's chaotic evil alter. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. You continue to chant curses in your head as he turns around fully and comes forward, looking up with evil glinting in his eyes at you like a twisted Flynn Rider to your Rapunzel.
The kind that makes you rather stay inside your tower- its safer here then out there with him. You don't go out to meet the rabid pit bull!!
"Ummm, nevermind! Go about your business, I'm fine here. See ya!"
"Oh no. What'd you want from little Mikey?" He asks, crossing his arms and tilting his head to the side, cruelly inquisitive. You chew on your bottom lip. Damn it; You've peaked his interest. Fuck.
"Um... " The sound comes out quiet and insure as you look down at the grass before his feet instead of his face. You're so nervous. "Well, I... I forgot my towel before I took my shower, and uh... I was just gonna ask him if he could go get me one."
For a moment, he's silent. Your gaze flickers up to his face to see an utterly wolfish look on his face, eyes gleaming with mischief before averting your eyes again to the grass.
Then a loud puff of hard, unpleasant laughter escapes him. He doubles over, holding his stomach as he guffaws at your embarrassing situation. You roll your eyes and cross your arms.
"Oh shut up," You snap, bravely- making him cut off his laughter immediately and look at you. You dare to fucking talk to him like that? "Come on, go get me a towel, please!! I'll owe you one."
After a moment, he stands up straight again and crosses his arms. Yes, he could do something horrible to you right now to teach you not to talk back to him; but it looks like you're going to struggle without his help. All he has to do is watch! "Hmm, nope!"
"Come on!"
"Not gonna happen."
"Ugh." You groan, leaving the window and Mal and plopping down on a bench. Fucking bastard.
This is so awkward. Especially since you know he's still out there!! And he could send someone in at any time.
... Minutes later, and you're still dripping wet but now freezing fricken cold, a towel is flung in through the still open window and lands on the wet floor near your feet. Your eyebrows fly up your forehead, as you look from it in surprise and to the window.
Mal's voice calls through it. "There! Its no fun if you just sit and bear your punishment." Huff. You can just imagine the cute boy - the look works for Mike, but is just very odd on Mal, - crossing his arms and setting his jaw, or even pouting. His voice just sound sooo frustrated. "I'll get you another time, anyway. Everyone will go down, eventually."
"Oh... mhm, oh sure." I mean, I can at least listen to his evil babble since he got me a towel, you think as you start drying yourself down and getting dressed.
A moment after you've got your shirt on, the door is kicked open and Mal stands on the threshold, making you jump. "Jesus christ!- "
"Kiss thank you?"
"Get outta here!" Absolutely not!
Scott:
Peering out from the window, you nearly miss the boy leant up against the cabin beneath you, in fact you would have- if it weren't for his bright orange hair. You gasp, unintentionally getting his attention and smiling brightly when he looks up to find you. "Scott!"
A confused, yet somehow still evil expression paints his face. "Y/N?? What are you doing?"
"Well farm-boy, how do you feel about giving a lady a hand??"
Scott snorts, getting off the wall and stepping back to see you properly. "Lady? I don't see any lady here."
Oh- Bastard. You look back into the bathroom before disappearing from the window for a moment before returning, and promptly clobbering him with an empty shampoo bottle. "You see her now!?"
"Ugh... yeah." He grumbles more malleably now, much more open to suggestion as he rubs his forehead. "Sure, now I see her... ow."
Now you feel a little bad. He looks so pitiful when he's in pain... and yes he's a rat but... its still not okay to hurt someone. You aren't Chris. And also you're getting colder and colder as the water drips unimpeded down your skin and maybe its making you soft. "Ohh... okay, I'm sorry."
He glances up at you, surprised at your apology. "Ahh, no problem, I guess... " Did someone just apologise for whacking him on this show? He crosses his arms, raising a curious look to your disembodied head. "Uhh, what'd you need a hand, with?"
"I... kinda... forgot a towel... could you please go get one for me??"
For a moment you watch his eyes narrow and a wicked grin flicker at the corners of his mouth and get anxious that he's going to ask for something in return- before he rolls his eyes and just shrugs, turning and heading off to the cabin. "Yeah, sure, whatever. Be right back- try not to gather too much attention, haha."
As he walks off, you duck under the window again, sighing in so much relief. "Thanks, Scott!"
~
When he returns, you're waiting at the door and crack it open just enough to get the towel from him immediately- which you quickly wrap around yourself comfortably and sigh. "Thank you so much!"
"Hm. No problem." He huffs, wondering why the hell he did this for you anyway and crossing his arms again.
From inside, you carefully ask: "Are you gonna get weird if I hug you now?"
Immediately Scott's ears go bright red and he quickly loses every little bit of cool-guy vibe from a moment ago. "I-In your towel?? N-No!! I mean- yes!" He rubs the back of his neck, looking away from the door like its you, or he'll accidentally spontaneously develop x-ray vision and damnit, he's a gentleman. "I mean... " Or at least he tries to be.
Grinning, because Scott's unexpectedly cute now that you've flustered him, you quickly open the door, hug him quick, then close the door again and shout 'BYE'.
#Total Drama Villains x Reader#Total Drama Island#Total Drama All Star#Total Drama Revenge Of The Island#td x reader#Chris McLean#td Heather#td mal#td Scott#Td Heather x Reader#td Heather Imagine#td Scott x Reader#td Scott Imagine#Total Drama Imagine#Chriss McLean x Reader#Chris Mclean Imagine#td Mal x Reader#td Mal Imagine
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Do You Get My Letters
✥ Pairing: Levi x fem!Reader, somewhat Reiner x fem!Reader
✥ Themes: Fluff, angst, sadness, big ass plot twist
✥ Warnings: Female bodied reader (she/her pronouns,) Pregnancy and birth (nothing gory.) Mentions of death, violence, and threats. Manipulation.
✥ Synopsis: You are carrying Reiner's baby when he betrays Paradis. Levi decides to step in.
✥ Word Count: 2.2k
(there is a part two up to this fic, but i've decided i'm going to rewrite the ending at some point.)
Anon's Request: Hi! I saw your requests are open so here I want to give my little scenario a try! 🕳🤸🏽♀️ I thought abt this last night, I’m currently rewatching AOT after 6 yrs and yet to finish season 4, so sorry if I’m wrong abt timelines/the plot? My request is the reader was with child with Reiner, but b4 reader told him, he betrayed and exposed his mission. Levi stepped in to help reader. And btw, I just finished watching ep 3 of season 4, so maybe Eren telling reiner abt his child and he regrets leaving the reader? And reiner jealous at the fact Levi is most likely considered his child’s father at that point. I can’t come up with an ending, so I’ll leave it up to you if you do take in my request. If this isn’t your type of writing I totally understand!
Note: This story is canon divergent. It is set in season 4, but in a universe where Reiner is not revealed as a traitor/the armored titan until a few months before season 4 takes place, as the reader was having relations with him until then and did not know his secret. I’m sorry if that change bothers you, I just wanted to write this as sort of its own story. This story contains season 4 spoilers! It also has nothing to do with the canon ending of AOT.
---
Dear Reiner,
I hope this letter somehow gets to you, I don’t quite know where to start.
In a perfect world, I would be so happy to tell you this. You’d be ecstatic too, I think. And before you try to second guess me: I’m sure by now, don’t worry.
I’m pregnant.
I guess we weren’t careful enough before you left. I feel like an idiot. And lost. But I’m not hopeless. I know myself, I can make it work somehow. With or without you.
I’m still in shock about you. How could someone so close hide so much? You’re a talented spy I suppose, a great asset to Marley. You made me trust you with my entire life. You made me love every false thing about you. And this is the rude awakening I get in return.
I’ll raise our child to value honesty and kindness, all in spite of you.
Sincerely,
Reader
---
The paper was damp with tears after you lifted your pen for a final time. You wished you could just keep the whole thing a secret: go make a quiet life for yourself somewhere else. It wouldn’t be right. Not after all of the dishonesty that man had spewed to you over the past few years. You had to tell him.
The door to the office room you’d settled in to write the letter creaks open. It’s Levi. He looks at your puffy eyes somberly, sympathetic. He was the first person you had told about the entire situation. Not because you were close, just because you needed help.
You fold your letter and stick it into a sturdy envelope. Levi takes it in his hand.
“That piece of shit doesn’t deserve a thing from you. Not a letter. Certainly not tears,” Levi says, using a clean handkerchief to wipe a stray drop from your cheek, “but I am proud of you.”
You take the handkerchief from him, feeling more tears stream down your face.
“Proud? I’m a fucking idiot,” you say through your sobs.
“Don’t even try to pull that self pity shit with me. Things happen sometimes. And you’re strong enough to commit to getting through it,” he responds.
You stand up, pushing your chair out. You look at him as you dry your face off again.
“I’m alone. How the hell am I supposed to do this shit alone?”
“You are not alone,” Levi replies. You’re shocked when he pulls you into a hug. “I’m going to help.”
You had never seen this side of him before. You look at him as you pull away slowly, tears still welled in your eyes.
“Are you sure? That's a big burden, Levi. None of this has to involve you.”
“Not the biggest burden I’ve ever taken on,” he shrugs. “There’s a lot of death around here, Y/N. Everyone is going to be happy about the little bit of life you’re giving us.”
You chuckle. He’s cynical, but he’s right.
He licks the envelope as he walks toward the door.
“Want me to run you a hot bath or something? Is that the type of shit pregnant people need?” he asks.
You laugh, a little harder than normal. It felt so relieving to laugh.
“Sure, Captain,” you respond softly.
---
Dear Reader,
I received your letter before the battle in Marley. I actually got to hand it to Reiner myself. He knows everything now. He broke down in front of me after reading it, going on about how much he regrets everything. How he wishes he could change things and be there for you. He begged me to kill him right there.
The world will eventually not have suffering like what you are going through now.
Eren Jaeger
---
Your jaw had dropped reading it. He begged me to kill him.
You hand the letter Levi had just delivered back to him. He reads it with a furrowed brow.
“Do you think…” you begin, your voice shaky, “do you think I could send another letter?”
Levi purses his lips, “Possibly. I can ask Jaeger. But right now, you need to bring your blood pressure back down.”
You were over seven months along now. You had found out about your pregnancy late, after being in denial for four whole months. Hange insisted on checking you out after you’d thrown up every morning for a week.
Levi had since gone on a parenting book reading spree; he made you read several of them too. He knew just about everything you needed to do to make a healthy baby: what to eat, what not to eat, how to exercise, when to go to the doctor, etc. It was really sweet how much he cared. You knew it gave him hope, something to fight for, something to come home to.
You were terrified when he left for Marley. You kissed him for the first time when he returned. Just about everyone you knew had to fight. You wished you could be out there fighting with them like you were supposed to. Maybe you could have made a difference.
Levi takes your hand, squeezing it to bring you out of your thoughts.
“What can I do?” he asks.
“Get me a glass of wine,” you grumble.
“Absolutely not.”
---
Dear Reiner,
Reader does not know I’m sending this. So keep it that way, or I’ll kill your sorry ass. Or maybe not, you’d probably enjoy that. In that case I’ll get creative.
How does it feel? Being a fucking deadbeat? Is it everything you’d thought it’d be and more? Fucking her and leaving her with nothing, like she belongs in a whorehouse. Reminds me of what happened to my mother. Pieces of shit like you came in and sent her to her death, leaving her kid behind to starve.
I wasn’t about to let her suffer like my mother did. But you were. I’m glad your choices haunt you, Reiner. You fucking deserve it.
I’ll be there for the both of them from now on, doing everything you were never capable of. She’s due any day now, I’m sure she’ll try to write to you.
Levi
---
You feel your first contraction while napping on the couch with Levi. You were settled in between his legs, your back leaning up against his chest. He had his hands on your stomach; he loved to feel the baby kick and tell them some of the happier stories in his memories.
The two of you had grown so close over the past few months. You slept together every night now. You didn’t want to leave each other’s sides if you didn’t have to. Levi would cuddle and massage you any time your pregnant body was ailing you.
You had fantasized with him about life after the war. He wanted to be a husband, a father, to live peacefully in the countryside. And he wanted more than anything for you to join him.
The first contraction wasn’t painful enough for you to make much more than a grunting noise, but Levi woke up the second he felt your stomach contort a bit. He was on very high alert these days.
“Holy… shit…is that what I think it is?” Levi whispers, “Don’t answer. I’m getting Hange.”
He crawls out from behind you and sprints out of the room.
The pain worsens and becomes much more frequent while he’s out looking for Hange. You stand up eventually after getting the urge to walk around - and your water breaks. You start panicking, unsure of how dilated you were and how much time you had left before pushing. You really wished you’d done more than just skimmed through those birthing books right about now.
Levi and Hange eventually come sprinting back into the room with a wheelchair and cold rags to find you whimpering in pain on the couch, trying your best to control your breathing.
You’re rushed down the halls to the Scout’s infirmary, where Levi had made sure the perfect room was set up for you - and it had been that way for two months.
The next hour goes by in a blur. Hange knew the biology of how to deliver the baby, and Levi knew how to coach you. He helped you hold your legs back when you pushed, and helped you count out your breathing. Hange attended to everything that might have made Levi faint, like checking your dilation and making sure the baby was coming out at the right angle. You got lucky having these two by your side.
Through all of your efforts, you finally hear a cry. You look up to see Levi holding your tiny new baby as Hange wiped them clean. He was smiling, way bigger than you’d ever seen him smile before, with tears in his eyes.
“Here,” he says softly, handing her to you.
You cradle her on your bare skin. “She’s so perfect, Levi! Look how sweet she is!” you coo.
“What are you going to call her?” he asks, stroking your hair as you gleam down at your baby.
“I was thinking,” you smile, “Kuchel.”
Levi lets out small gasp. Tears start streaming down his face, his efforts to stifle them failing.
“Really? I think that’s,” he wipes his eyes, “a wonderful name.”
—-
Dear Reiner,
She’s finally here! Oh my god, she’s precious. Levi and Hange helped to deliver her. Labor went smoothly. Levi started to cry when he saw her for the first time. She really is just that perfect. We are calling her Kuchel, after Levi’s mother. He cried when I told him that, too (don’t tell him I’m sharing those crying details.) I've decided to give her Levi’s last name as well.
Levi set up the perfect nursery for us.
If you really did feel guilty for leaving - don’t be. I’m happy.
She has your eyes.
Sincerely,
Reader
—-
Dear Reiner,
Kuchel said her first word today. Of course it wasn’t mama, she’s such a daddy’s girl. She started crawling awhile ago, we are now working on standing up on our own. She has all of this blonde curly hair, too. She’s growing up so fast.
Reader
—-
Dear Reiner,
Levi proposed a few days ago. It was so perfect. We found a nice house with room for a farm that will be perfect for a family.
I can only wonder how you’re doing, now that the war is over.
Are you even alive?
Reader
—-
Dear Reiner,
I’m expecting again. Levi is beyond excited. I am too, of course. Kuchel started school this year. She is such a smart kid.
I still wonder about you. After all these years.
Reader
—-
Message after message, word after word. No response. You had decided he must be dead. The devastation after the war would argue that he was.
That is, until you found yourself rummaging through one of Levi’s desk drawers, looking for baby Isabel’s lost pacifier.
You felt the bottom of the drawer shift. A false bottom?
You pry at it until it comes open.
Letters.
Dozens of opened letters. With Marleyan postage stamps.
You pull out the first bundle you see. They’re all from you. Unopened. Unsent. You set them aside, your jaw quivering.
You pull out the second bundle and gasp.
—-
Dear Reader,
Eren showed me your letter. I am terribly sorry. Let me fix this, somehow. You can come to live with me in Marley. I will take care of you. Please.
I’m not just a traitor, a liar, a farce. Everything between us was real. I can explain everything. Just trust me.
Love,
Reiner
—
Dear Reader,
Do you get my letters?
I’ve only heard rumors about our new baby girl. I wish I could see her. Just once. For a second. Do you have a camera? I know they’re hard to come by in Paradis. I can send one.
I’d do anything to change this. You know I would.
Love,
Reiner
—-
To Levi,
You son of a bitch. I know exactly what you’re doing. You think this is protecting her, but it’s not. Just let her talk to me. She would listen, she would understand. You said yourself that she writes. You manipulative, sick bastard. That is MY child. She will never be yours. No matter what you brainwash her to believe, your dirty Ackerman blood does not run through her veins. She deserves to know. You are the farce, Levi.
Reiner
—-
There were dozens more. All opened. All from Reiner.
You sink down to the floor, tears spilling from your eyes.
You are the farce, Levi.
But, why? He was just protecting you, right?
The office door opens. You jump, shoving the letters back into the drawer.
“Mommy, why are you crying?” Kuchel asks.
You take a deep breath, staring down at the letters, thinking about everything that could have been.
“Are you happy here, Kuchel?”
“Yes!” she chirps, “Every day!”
“Then it’s nothing, baby. Mommy just got hurt. She’s better now.”
Your daughter giggles and skips out of the room, leaving you to hide away the rest of the letters.
༺♥༻
I REALLY HOPE I understood your request, Anon! I actually had a lot of fun writing this. It isn't something I would normally think to write, but I'm so glad you shared this idea! Sorry for the sad ending, I love playing w people's emotions ;)
༺♥༻
#levi x reader#levi ackerman x reader#levi ackerman#levi aot#reiner x reader#reiner braun#reiner x you#levi x you#attack on titan#aot x reader#aot imagines#levi imagine#reiner imagine#snk reiner#snk levi#tw: pregnancy#tw: threats#tw: manipulation#tw: mentions of death
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This Side of Normal Ch. 8
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Marinette was seriously considering murder. She was pretty sure Jason would be able to help her hide the body, he was a lot stronger than her. But murder was seriously on the table. Why has she decided to break that one golden rule, you might ask? Lila Rossi. The bane of her existence. The very reason they were spending two fucking weeks in the crime capital of the world instead of their original destinations. But no, Lila just had to convince Mme. Bustier to take them to Gotham. And then, as if making Marinette plan a million things last minute wasn’t bad enough, Lila decided to talk. Nonstop. Throughout the entire first half of their tour of Wayne Enterprises. The only thing keeping her from strangling the girl right now was the promise of coffee in the cafeteria. She didn’t need food, she needed coffee. And then she’d go right back to plotting murder. Would anyone look in the river for her body?
“Whatever you’re thinking, I’m sure you shouldn’t do it.” Adrien says, pulling her out of her murder plot. She glares at him.
“I’m planning a murder, and I don’t appreciate you interrupting me.” She deadpans.
“Murder’s bad, Mari. We don’t murder people.” Adrien sighs, throwing an arm over her shoulders.
“Maybe you don’t murder people. I’m thinking about branching out.” She hums, getting in the line for coffee. Adrien huffs and grabs her arm, tugging her behind him. She immediately starts whining, reaching out towards the coffee booth.
“Mari, you need actual food. You can have coffee after you eat something. I know for a fact you didn’t eat breakfast.” He says, staring her down. She huffs, crossing her arms.
“You’re not my dad.” She mumbles, turning away from him.
“Why the hell are you all pouty?” Jason asks, walking up to the two. Marinette smiles briefly, then drops her face back into a scowl.
“Someone is keeping me from my coffee.” She says.
“Good job kid!” Jason says, high fiving Adrien. Marinette’s jaw drops at the betrayal.
“Honestly rude. Guess I’m not gonna ask you to help me anymore.” She says, sighing dramatically.
“Help with what?” He asks, frowning.
“Murder. She wants to commit a murder.” Adrien says, rolling his eyes.
“Who’re we killing?” Jason asks. This time it’s Adrien’s turn to drop his jaw, Marinette laughing loudly.
“Ha! I told you Jay would help me!” She cheers, shooting Adrien a smug smile.
“Marinette! Lila needs your help carrying her tray.” Mme. Bustier instructs, walking over to the trio. Marinette immediately frowns, looking over at Lila who was carrying a tray. Just fine.
“Uh, looks like she’s got it.” She says, nodding towards the liar.
“Well, she got it okay, but she needs someone to carry it to her table for her.” Mme. Bustier says, frowning.
“And one of her friends can do it. I’m not getting out of line for my own lunch just to carry Lila’s tray Mme. Bustier.” Marinette argues, crossing her arms.
“Marinette-” She starts, then stops when she realizes Jason isn’t one of the students. “Very well. But we’re going to talk about this later.” She adds before walking away. Marinette rolls her eyes.
“Is she the one we’re murdering?” Jason asks, leaning down a little so he could whisper.
“Nope. The one whose tray I was supposed to carry is the one on my list.” Mari says, nodding towards the girl who was now fake crying.
“Jesus. How does anyone put up with her?” He asks, face curling in disgust. Marinette shrugs.
“At first I thought she was Meta. Now I think my classmates are just idiots.” She says simply. Jason snorts.
“I believe that. I’m gonna go grab you a coffee. As much as I’d love to help you commit a murder, pretty sure the boss would be pissed.” He says, ruffling her hair before walking away. Marinette turns to Adrien and gives him a smug smile.
“Ha, bitch.” She says, snorting as he starts spluttering.
“You can’t just say that, Bug!” He whines, before turning to order his food. Marinette snorts.
“Sure I can.” She says in English, before quickly switching to Mandarin and lowering her voice. “I’m a seventeen year old ex-superhero, I’m allowed to say bitch.” Adrien just snorts, thanking the lady and grabbing his food so that Marinette can order. Once she has her food, she follows Adrien to an almost empty table in the corner farthest away from their classmates. She smiles at the person at the other end of the table, Dick Grayson. He was their tour guide and had dealt with their annoying ass class surprisingly well. She was tempted to make him a certificate if he lasted til the end of the day without losing his sanity. Plopping down in her seat, she starts eating her food slowly, watching Jason across the room at the coffee booth.
“Mari, he said he would get you coffee. He’s gonna get you coffee.” Adrien says, nudging her side to try and get her to actually eat.
“You don’t think he’d get me decaf, do you?” She asks, remembering the time he’d brought coffee to one of their late night training sessions. It was decaf then, he claimed that she needed to be able to sleep after training. She argued that she needed to stay awake and do homework and commissions and some lameass decaf coffee was not going to help her do that. She just hoped he would take pity on her and get her actual coffee this time.
“I think I’d get you decaf,” Adrien starts, dodging her attempt to whack him. “But, I think Jay’s a little nicer than me today. Probably since he hasn’t seen us in awhile.” He muses. Marinette stops trying to attack him, nodding in agreement. He’d be more likely to give her decaf tomorrow than today. So it was still safe to trust her coffee order to him. For now.
“I’m sorry, did you say Jay?” Mr. Grayson asks, catching her attention. She glances at Adrien who just shrugs. She knew the two had talked earlier, but she really didn’t want to accidentally get Jay in trouble.
“Uh, yes?” She says, wincing at the awkwardness.
“You know Jason.” He says, and she nods, frowning.
“Yeah, we got to know him last year when he was on a business trip in Paris.” She explains, dodging around the whole ‘he trained us as heroes and then found out our identities and helped us take down a supervillain’ part of it. “We ended up getting close and we’ve kept in contact over the last year.” Mari adds, confused as to why Mr. Grayson looks so lost.
“Really?” He finally asks.
“Yeah. He’s basically like our big brother.” Adrien adds, obviously sensing that Marinette was getting uncomfortable.
“Hey Dick, long time no see.” Jason snarks, putting Mari’s coffee in front of her and plopping down in the seat next to Adrien.
“Jason. So you have two new siblings?” He asks, gesturing to Mari and Adrien. Jason nods.
“Yup. And they’re loads better than you lot. Pixie Pop here even said I could help her with her first murder.” Jason teases. Marinette’s face instantly heats up, as she turns her glare to Jason.
“Jason!” She hisses. He’s lucky he’s on the other side of Adrien.
“Wait, you two are brothers?” Adrien asks, and Marinette blinks. Oh, yeah. Wait, what.
“You didn’t know?” Dick asks. Adrien looks at Mari who shrugs. She definitely hadn’t known. She’d assumed Dick was one of Jason’s bosses.
“Yeah, unfortunately this dipshit is my older brother. Adopted, of course.” Jason says.
“We also have two other brothers and a sister. And some unofficial siblings.” Dick adds, making Mari raise an eyebrow.
“All adopted?” She asks. Adoption was no joke. It was crazy expensive in the US.
“All but one. B kinda adopts every dark haired, blue eyed kid with trauma that he meets.” Jason says, smirking at Marinette’s face.
“I’m feeling attacked right now. Are you attacking me? If anyone has enough trauma to be adopted by a serial adopter, it’s Adrien. Not me.” She says with a pout.
“Hey!” Adrien objects. Marinette looks pointedly at his arm.
“Your arm was cut off by your supervillain father who was an emotional terrorist for over three years. That’s a shit ton of trauma.” She says as he pouts.
“Yeah, but if I get adopted in the US, I’d never see you anymore.” He points out.
“But you’d see me all the time.” Jason teases. Adrien grins.
“That’s right! Okay, sorry M, I’m gonna get adopted here.” He says with a wide grin.
“Traitors, the both of you. Mr. Grayson, how’d you like a new little sister? I’m officially disowning both of these losers.” Marinette says, ignoring the indignant squawks from Adrien. Dick snorts, a wide grin stretching across his face.
“Sure kid. And call me Dick. Do you happen to know any acrobatics?” He asks with a teasing grin. Mari smirks.
“As a matter of fact, I do.” She says. Dick freezes before a huge smile makes its way onto his face, his whole body shaking in excitement.
“Wait, really? You’re serious?” He asks. She nods. “That’s awesome! Sorry Jay, I’m stealing this one.” He says. Jason scowls.
“I don’t think so. I’ve known Pixie Pop longer, therefore, she’s my sister.” He says. Adrien clears his throat. “Our sister.” Jason amends, nodding to Adrien.
“But she’s an acrobat! You know I’ve been looking for someone to teach trapeze to!” Dick whines. Mari’s eyes light up and she starts bouncing in her seat.
“Wait, trapeze? Seriously? Where? Oh my god, that would be so much fun!” She squeals, suddenly actually excited about being in Gotham.
“We have one at our house, you guys have to come over! I could show you the basics.” Dick suggests, still grinning. Marinette turns to Jason, waiting to see what he’d say. If Dick didn’t know Jason, she’d never consider going over and learning trapeze. But since he’s Jason’s brother…..
“Ugh, fine. But if B ends up trying to adopt both of you, you can’t blame me. I wanted to keep you away from him. You’re the one who got suckered in by the damn trapeze.” Jason gripes, leaning back in his seat. Marinette just grins at him before turning back to Dick to figure out the specifics. Maybe this trip wouldn’t be that bad.
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Tag list (open): @toodaloo-kangaroo @laurcad123 @kittenmywaythrulife @lost-in-the-world-of-maribat @queenz-z
#maribat#maribat jason todd#maribat dick grayson#maribat marinette dupain cheng#maribat adrien agreste#maribat platonic adrienette#platonic maribat adrienette#fanfic#maribat fanfiction#maribat fanfic#platonic jasonette#This Side of Normal#ao3fic#daminette#but they haven't met yet#maribat big brother Jason Todd#akuma class goes to Gotham#maribat gotham fic#maribat but make it all left au#platonic dickinette
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I decided to watch the Walker pilot so you don’t have to. #1
I don’t know why I’m doing this, but I’m doing this and the more I put it off the less I’ll want to do this. So. Let’s start.
The fist thing we see is Jared Padalecki, em Walker, driving. He’s vaguely smiling and there’s the sun behind him. He seems happy. He’s driving a truck, for some reason my mind goes to Twilight. I’d rather watch that. At least there are vampires (not dressed like clowns) there. Anyway. Walker is meeting someone. He’s meeting his wife! “Look at you!” she says. The camera makes us look at him. He looks like this
I am unsure whether we’re supposed to see this as sexy or cool. It looks frankly ridiculous. I don’t know if I’m just not American enough to appreciate the aesthetic of this. But I didn’t go through 15 seasons of Americana-in-British-Columbia for nothing. If a character appeared like this on Supernatural, it wouldn’t be presented seriously. It would be played for a chuckle or in a light-hearted way at least. Not even Dean Winchester would find this hot.
The Padaleckis tell something to each other. Apparently he needs to go home with the kids and his parents because it’s game night. My mind immediately goes to Game Night the episode and I am sad now. But Walker lifts my mood in its own weird way. He doesn’t know the rules because every time she tells him the rules, he blacks out. I would make a fun quip about this, but the truth is that I relate to him a lot right now because I blacked out during the entire scene. I’m not sure what they said other than the game thing because I wrote it here. I already forgot the rest.
Anyway. What we’re supposed to get from this scene that they’re Very In Love (see that soft warm light?), and that he’s anxious because he’s not great at being a father because he’s shit at games apparently, but his wife is like ~don’t worry so much~ because she’s a kind, understanding wife. He tells her to be safe, because the Texan countryside is dangerous or something. She needs to stay on a route he approved for some reason. Is she traveling with supersoldier serum in her car? Is Hydra going to murder her? [cue the Marvel snipers shooting me to death because they don’t want Marvel to be associated to this]
Later, everyone is having fun playing fake monopoly, but Walker (whose mannerism is just Jared, he’s not even trying) is apparently too stupid to understand a game for kids. Plot twist, this is anti-cop propaganda because it says cops are dumb.
“Et tu Brute” Jared says when the kids point out he broke a rule so they get an extra turn. I thought I was safe from hearing Jared speak Latin! I thought I was safe! I am never safe!
Emily (Gen) suddenly texts him “SOS. Answer” which is OMINOUS! Oh my god! Aren’t you feeling the tension. The rest of the family keeps playing fake monopoly. Someone throws dice. Are we supposed to go “oh! The dice are ~symbolic because someone’s playing dice with her life” or have I been watching too much good tv.
She is running somewhere in the countryside, wearing a white shirt (is this the cowboy lady equivalent of the Wife Nightgown?). She says something is not right. He’s worried. Then he hears gunshot and her scream. He does the Alarmed Jared face, presses lips together and does a Upset Jared face.
Then he goes out, tries to call her again, and again, does a Jared Upset Sniff--
Oh! We actually see her! She’s alive, but she’s been shot in the stomach. Her white shirt is definitely the cowboy lady equivalent of the Wife Nightgown! Ah the blood coming from the stomach! How terrible! Her phone is ringing but she cannot reach it. She is definitely alive right now, though. She’s breathing heavily because of the wound, which is breathing, which is the opposite of being dead.
He decides that she’s dead, and lets out the already infamous manly scream of anguish.
It would be sad if it wasn’t that literally one second ago we saw her wounded but alive. Her turning out alive in the season finale or so will shock everyone. Nobody will have seen it coming. Who wrote this? They should have just shown the ringing phone and her bloody hand/side, making the audience assume she was dead, instead of showing her breathing. Now the audience is gonna assume she didn’t actually die, and wonder “why didn’t he call someone or went looking for her” but apparently Jared’s characters have forgotten that, like, ambulances are a thing. Jared’s manly screams of anguish are more important than common sense.
I’m not going to say anything about the manly scream of anguish. I’m not going to say anything about the manly scream of anguish. I’m n
We’re just 4 minutes in, guys. Why am I doing this?
Eleven months later, says the screen.
It’s night, outside a house. The son is waiting for him. The daughter doesn’t think he’s coming. On the porch there are two men, one is his brother and one is apparently his former partner, now new boss. He’s dressed like you’d expect a normal person to be dressed in a casual Texan night, hat and tie and all. If you are law enforcement in Texas and don’t wear a cowboy hat at any moment, you will be executed. That’s what the death penalty in Texas is for.
Somebody arrives, but to the kids’ disappointment is some dude whose function is to tell us the men’s names. The brother is Liam, the cop dude I forgot.
Walker is being sad on the back of his truck and drinking alcohol, which is the only way television can express a man having trauma. Holy shit - he reminisces of his wife like this is some emotional Lord of the Rings scene in a place where Elves live except this is not the Lord of the Rings and is just ridiculous, look
She’s seen running towards the gazebo, then she turns
This is exactly shot like the scene where Arwen has a vision of her son. Flowy hair and all. I cannot take this seriously.
He smiles sadly. Then a cop car arrives.
Mexican Lady Cop(TM), whose function in the story is to be a Mexican Lady Cop(TM) asks for his licence since he’s drinking alcohol in a public place.
“You ask so nicely” drunk Walker says. Ew. “Yeah, they train the girls special” Oh! Can you see? She is the Feminist Icon who Takes No Shit from the Dude! I’m so excited. I am slowly losing the will to live.
She drives him home on the police car. His legs don’t fit. At least this is realistic.
He does exposition in the car, including “I needed to visit a ghost instead”. There-there was no need to say it. What’s the demographic they’re aiming for? Five year olds? Do they have to spell everything out loud?
“It’s been a while since I had an actual conversation” he says, which supposedly explains why he’s making awkward exposition, but it’s just bad writing. At least they acknowledge it’s bad writing.
She figures he’s law enforcement coming back from an undercover mission from some drunken ramble he makes. This is worse than the Sherlock phone cable port thing.
She says she just got promoted from state trooper, ehe she will work with him wink wink nudge nudge. Is she going to be a cop-buddy-character slash love interest except when they’re almost about to realize they’re into each other, his wife comes back and draa~ama? I can already see it.
He goes home, makes some Jared grunts, and falls asleep on the couch.
Next morning, he goes out and jogs to where he left the truck. He puts on a cowboy hat which is supposed to be an artistic shot.
I’m slowly dying. He makes some Jared Deep Breaths, at least this made me laugh.
Wait, he’s now wearing a black hat. He’s in mourning, see? What.
He drives to his father’s ranch. His father is Super Not Impressed. It’s awkward. They took about horses. Mitch Pileggi is thinking that at least the other show was more exciting and there was Jensen Ackles in it.
He gets into his parents’ house and the dogs run to him, he does the Jared Dog Chuckle. He hugs his mom. He hugs his son - “August, my boy!” he says, like a normal person his age says.
He hugs his brother and they joke-wrestle and he says “I’m still the big brother” and did I mention I’m dying inside. I just can tell this is SUPPOSED to be reminiscent of Dean and Sam’s first meeting at Stanford in the pilot except Jared is the big brother now. Ew.
We learn that the brother is a DA and gay. All pilots suffer from Forced Exposition Syndrome but it’s like this isn’t even trying.
He goes to work and hugs (very manly hug of course) his friend-now-boss, who is called James. James asks him if he’s good and he’s like yeah I’m good, which our I’m Fine Lie Moment #1. Some things never change.
Enter the case of the week - a cop offered roadside assistance but he was assaulted. We’re already starting with a “Oh No Poor Cop :( Someone Doesn’t Like Cops And Gets Violent” plot. Yay.
Ta-da! Mexican Lady Cop appears, cowboy hat and all. James says she’s Walker’s new partner. My heart cries while Walker says “figured you’d be a guy” and she replies “so did my mom”. The feminism is so strong :’) She’s such a strong female character :’) I’m so happy :’)
Then Walker makes such a quintessential Jared thing with his mouth that I need to stop this here and take a break.
It’s been 13 minutes. So much still to go. I’m bored. Why am I doing this.
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