#now i have to hold back to not put them in ever background xD

[blastedking]

The inevitable 40k crossover art! I don't think the role of commissar would fit him well BUT - I'm most familiar with Gaunt's Ghosts, so there is that x)

[rin-henricov]

What would you say is your top 5 favorites in Storm Hawks? (BUT you can't use Stork XD)

Aww man, you caught me on the last word :'D I thought for a long time, trying to remember all the characters I like besides Stork, but it was even more difficult to put them in their places, cause I love them all equally. So be it, I will answer! 1. Radarr.

Number one on my list is the sky lemur, a comic-relief sidekick and just a funny character whose antics are so much interesting to watch. He's just a cute little fella, so assure you, he can safely be trusted with a firearm. Have to admit, but the show would have be much boring without Radarr (and I think he has a lot more dynamic with Stork than with Aerrow). 2. Master Cyclonis.

The supreme ruler of a matriarchal empire in the person of a cynical teenage girl? Give me two! I also really like her design — especially impressive is the idea of a hood that resembles the petals of a devil's daisy. At least, never seen anything like this in any media before. Well, now let me share my subjective opinion. Let's be honest: just because she's a lonely girl with no friends doesn't absolve her of responsibility for deliberately ravaging the terras for the empire's expansion (has anyone ever wondered about Finn's or Piper's terras?) and entertaining her people with brutal gladiatorial battles. Even if she had undergone a thorough introspection and returned from the other side of Atmos with the entire squadron, it was unlikely that anyone would have forgiven her. Also don't like the fact that in the eyes of some fans (don't speaking for everyone!) she is no more than Draco in leather pants, whose essential flaws no one tried to notice :( I understand that my opinion may seem very controversial, and you have every right to disagree with it. However, I still hold the thought that «loving a character does not mean justifying their actions». 3. Repton.

A badass, strong, fearless leader of the criminal squadron, who does not back down before any challenges, no matter how serious they may be. Admired the fact that Repton, as one of the most competent servants of the Empire, is not afraid to contradict Cyclonis herself and always remains true to his beliefs. I always assumed he called Stork a salamander cause of his cowardice and dodgy nature. Even after the merb had destroyed his entire squadron, Repton continued to treat him with the utmost prejudice and did not consider Stork a serious opponent. Based on the lore, it is logical to assume that the Raptors were raised with the idea that they are the most dominant species in all of Atmos, and all others must serve them or be conquered. I just think that's one of the few reasons he harbors a general dislike for all existing races :D 4. Merbian postmaster from episode "Scouts Honor".

Oh yes, my favorite trope — «a character who appears in a two-minute scene, says just one phrase, and manages to win your heart in half a minute». I've always wondered what his background might have been, and what he might have done besides his work. It seems to me that he is less emotional and more resistant to any stress than Stork. However, he may experience some social awkwardness in communication, and it is easy to confuse him with a couple of personal questions. Therefore, he prefers to use short and clear phrases, which makes his speech more meaningful than it really is. I've already drawn him once, but it's quite possible that I'll do it again. 5. Griffin.

He's my son, ask questions. Characters that aren't on the main list, but are also my favorites: 1. These cute bunny fellas.

2. Hamish.

3. Aaaand... The Murk Raiders!

[jacentric]

heres some of my fibers and metalsmithing work if yall wanna see it :) im putting it all under the cut so i can explain them a bit lmao (and theres also a good amount of them)

this one is probably my favorite maybe ever. its a self portrait and i dyed the three colors in the background that arent solids and the patterns in my hair and shirt i designed in illustrator and printed them out on fabric with this rly cool fabric printer. this is also 60x80 inches so its big. and the backing fabric is also fully dyed (the photo on the right featuring my cat helping ofc)

these are little keychains/zipper pulls of pride flags that i dyed most of the colors for (excluding the basic rainbow) and wove on an inkle loom. we sold them to raise money for various queer charities (i started this project after a shooting at a queer club in my state. we donated about $500 to them)

these rings were lost wax cast in sterling silver and bronze. the two on the left are knit and purl stitches and i hand carved them out of wax. the next three are cat food, corn, and a tractor tire and those i designed in a 3d modeling program and 3d printed them out. and the last one is a design from a spoon handle that i took a mold of and then cast.

this one is another favorite. instead of weaving just one solid fabric, this is weaving two at the same time (called double weave) and basically the black butterflies can be/are a seperate fabric than the purple ones. but they are interwoven together to make this pattern. it took foreverrrr to weave this and i came up with the pattern myself. (i was also individually picking up the strands to make the pattern based off of my graph paper sketch)

another weaving here that ended up being like 2x3 feet big. i wove it on a giant frame loom i made. its a tide pool and for our critique i submerged it in water and had a little aquarium pump running to create some waves. a fun fact about this piece was i made it when i first started watching foolish. this took absolutely forever and i watched foolish build the xd statue wings at the same time so we were 'suffering' together XD

i definitely have more to share if anyone wants to see them but ill end with this one for now. this is a copper chain mail pocket that can be used to help dye fabric. i made all of the jump rings myself (winding wire around a dowel and then sawing the spring into rings and which also took forever) and the chainmail pattern is called japanese 6 in 1. there is one slightly bigger and thicker ring with 6 smaller ones coming off of it. and it is so satisfying to hold bc its so heavy and makes such a nice noise. and the fabric dying bit, when dying with natural dyes (marigolds, logwood, etc) you need a mordant that basically allows the color to 'stick' to the fabric. most of the time, ive used alum which comes from aluminum, but copper also works. so i get to skip the step of pre-soaking the fabric in an alum mixture and can instead just put my marigolds into the copper pocket and that will mordant it and the same time its being dyed. you can see the little yellow fabric sticking out of the pocket there and that was dyed using the bag.

anyway if you made it this far down thanks for reading and id looove to talk more about any of this if you have questions or want to see more works of mine,, i have a lot XD :)

[nsfwitchy2]

I see what you're saying and personally avoid talking on the phone while driving myself, but I was surprised because I don't think I've ever heard it argued that talking on the phone while driving (as long as you're not actually looking at the phone) is inherently distracted driving before. I would think that would also imply having a regular conversation with a passenger is also distracted driving? Which I've definitely never heard anyone say; that one I don't technically avoid per se but I also almost never have passengers.

Anon I’m gonna be honest with you I am genuinely so surprised to have someone say, “I never considered talking on the phone to be distracted driving before” XD

Because I have literally always heard of that being referred to as distracted driving. There are literal flashing signs up in my city begging people to not talk on the phone and drive because it is distracted driving.

And honestly if we really wanna get technical here, talking to a passenger could actually be considered distracted driving. Legally distracted driving is considered to be any activity that diverts the drivers attention from the road.

Going back to the phone thing though - I like to look at it like this: If I start a conversation with my mom in the car, she does not have to look at me to respond. If your phone rings in the car, even if you don’t look at your phone through the entire phone call - you HAVE to look at it to answer it. Aside from the fact that people tend to look to see who’s calling them, you HAVE to look at your phone just to answer it in general.

If you decide to hold the phone up to your ear? You have now taken a hand off the wheel. If you wanna hold the phone to your ear with your shoulder, you have now shifted your position intentionally to prioritize your conversation on the phone over driving - if you have to break or swerve suddenly for any reason, your reaction time is definitely gonna be hindered.

And even if you just have one of those clips that holds your phone up for you, or even a blue tooth screen in your car that you can put your phone screen on - you’re still distracted. Possibly even more-so because there is a literal screen right in the middle of your dashboard, that’s basically a bright flashing sign begging you to look at it. A lot of cars with screens, in my experience, generally come with a lot of glitches - glitches that will absolutely divert your attention from the road. I will often pester my mother to not start driving until my Bluetooth is connected to her car, because the screen in her car and the Bluetooth especially are INCREDIBLY glitchy - and I have actively seen her attention be diverted from driving in order to fiddle with the Bluetooth because it won’t work.

Not to mention that when you talk to a passenger, at least the both of you are in a controlled environment. When you talk on the phone, you have no control over what the other person is doing. I talk on the phone a LOT for my job, there are tons of people who have just unimaginably awful phone service. I already struggle to hear some of them while not driving - now imagine you’re behind the wheel of a car and someone calls you, and you suddenly have to spend absurd amounts of time, energy and focus trying to hear them through their shit service. God forbid you talk to someone on the phone while driving and there’s a loud noise in the background of wherever they are, and you get startled behind the wheel of a fucking car.

Anyway this got a lot longer than I originally anticipated whoops lmao

But yeah don’t talk on the phone and drive, it’s not safe. I am on my hands and knees begging the American public to remember that a car is considered heavy machinery and that’s for good reason. Please act accordingly when y’all drive.

[postmoderntongues]

if i can ever access my college email again i have 2 essays i need to post somewhere, one Comparing Schillinger from oz and the plotline with his sons to King Lier for a Shakespeare class and another that was the relationship in time between advancements in the feminist movement and depictions of violence especially sexual violence toward females in horror, in which i showed the entire class the toothless blowjob suffocation scene from A Serbian Film as a display of social dominance XD

which IMHO is the only scene in the film that lives up to the films reputation. The babyfuck Mai-Chan already did onscreen in 2004 and i think if i remember right was shown just as graphically in an old movie called "the brood" which is one shot of a rubber doll being held and then everything u think u see is conveyed through audio and the reaction shots of the characters viewing it, like how all the assaults by schillinger on beecher in the first season of Oz (or for that matter any on screen SA at all until RE Rodgers shows up on set in season 2 and is like "fuck tasteful implication get a good shot of my ass muscles clenching while i pretend im getting blown") are exclusively communicated through dialog but because they show the branding on screen you REMEMBER seeing a scene of SA.

The rest of the movie was just tits and a try hard gooner decapitation during sex scene where the effects are laughable and then 30-40 minutes of boring dialog thats trying to be deep and then a twist ending that felt so unnatural like as if somebody was like "we need a twist ending" and ignored all logic to jam it in pardon my phrasing lol and it takes itself SO SERIOUSLY i think Human Centapede 3 was the best of that whole deepshock era because it knew how to have FUN it had a sense of humor that didnt force it to hold back the ugliness of the horror but instead gave them an excuse to escalate in the name of comedy. Prolly one of the overall better horror series of my generation. First one is boring gross concept nonsense, 2nd is over the top arthouse meta-film commentary on the audience reaction to the shock content of the 1st film, 3rd film they just play the benny hill soundtrack in the background and people are getting fucked in the kidney and eating fried dick and balls and they make a 1000 man chain or something super over the top like that the gradient from concept shock horror to wacky splatterpunk romp feels very natural and keeps an idea that nobody thought wouldnt get too repetitive to make a 2nd movie from a respectable trilogy showcasing 3 almost entirely different genres other than SAW and now Terrifier which i consider more of my baby sisters generation it was the superior original horror franchise of my generation imho

Like Human Centapede was well aware that it was sharing an era with the widespread easy nearly unlimited extremely inexpensive availability of RC Psychedelics and carved itself a place, Serbian Film was for dads who do shrooms by the 1/6th and bragged about seeing "the for real uncut nipple cutting version of last house on the left at a drive in during high school" and brag about their knowledge of Cannibal Holocaust ripoffs then feel emasculated when their daughter finds an even longer cut under a different title of the film they are bragging about with a 3 click google search and has to re-establish dominance by showing 11 year old militant peta-vegan me the uncut Cannibal Holocaust and only rubbing it in after we watched the whole thing that the animal deaths were real which i fired back with August Underground Mortem which he finished and then made me pull up all the film articles on because Charlie Sheen Guinea Pig style he thought his middle school daughter just showed him actual snuff and that put an end to the arms race but i still sometimes take a victory lap by showing him a gore video like he did to me the week after 9/11 when he showed me footage of an afghanistan girl getting a clitoridectomy and explained "if we dont kill all the people who knocked down the twin towers theyre going to do this to you and make you not allowed to read or go to school and marry an old man as soon as they beat us"

like idk how we have the relationship of dick measuring that we had (i once dated the niece of the woman he was cheating on my mom with and made him drive us around without saying i knew the connection just to watch him sweat) he looks at me and is like "daughter, just a daughter, in no way son behavior, dominance struggles with the male head of the household are exactly what typical daughters do and is not male-coded as fuck"

Like sir you've been consistently defeated at every attempt at dick measuring we've been engaged in since i was 10 if Im really not your son because you cant handle having a trans son then i guess swallow the chunky af pill that your "daughter" has proven undefeated since puberty to have the bigger dick

I dont have "Daddy Issues" that MF got Son Issues ill traumatize his ass right back

[blackdigitalrose]

Fri - Healin' Good Pretty Cure - EP 35 - 37

I am watching Idol as well, there's just nothing to ever really comment on at the moment.

Now here's hoping this trio is better than last weeks.

EP 35

That's cheating but hey, at least it wasn't a one off thing for plot convenience but they have a beach where they live, Chiyu visits it all the time... does it not deter the novelty a little? And if they're returning in the evening, why so much luggage?

The convenience of it all -.-'' of all the islands to chose, it's the opposite side of where the Precure are.

It is a different sort of finisher if nothing else, heck Cure Grace had a solo heal this week on a Mega Byogen; that's a feat. No group finisher.

Well isn't that a nice little team bonding moment.

EP 36

Well, you've got to give her a point for self confidence.

Now there's a creative way to split them up and keep ya secret safe.

Just everyone and everything is confused by Shindoine's nicknaming skills. O.o? And it's the Healing Oasis finisher this time, how bizarre?

New outfit time! It is the only problem with watching them in a block, it isn't clear when the seasonal shifts are as time frames tends to be quite reflective of the actual calendar but the shows rarely give as much away.

The wrong take away but that battery life... They never did explain the Natasha and Elizabeth thing though, they started but then cut it off???

EP 37

Asumi got her self a part time job ??? That seems rather sudden, wonder what brought this idea about? Oh, it's that guy again, random sudden throwbacks. They say Butterfly is the first adult Cure but Asumi couldn't be far off either? (overlooking the fact she's a spirit/fairy like thing)

The writing team are venting in this one. Why is it so hard for others to show a bit of consideration? The scene reminds me of something though, just can't put my finger on what.

Pegitan being that voice of reason again but geez, we've still got 8 eps to go show, why are we dwelling on this now? (The fact there is only 8 feels insane)

On the plus side for him, both options would viable right now. This background is gorgeous though >.<

It is quite the fairy heavy episode really. Duty before personal desire.

Meanwhile they've made Daruizen look rather sinister for some reason this week? Which considering how half soaked and nonchalant he is about most things must take some effort. (It still surprises me he's voiced by a woman) On the other hand, I do like that he is the only one to ever strike back against the Precure mid-move, why don't more villains do that?

In a way, is that not counter productive? The idea was to defend the farm but surely that only defends a direct hit, surely the bounce-back and spread off those shields is still doing damage? Besides, as long as they win, it's fine? Is this trying to tell us they don't think they would win?

XD The Precure are just extras (aside Earth, whose just standing there doing a whole lot of nothing) in this ep, this is solely the fairies fight.

Wait...hold the phone, what do you mean we're coming soon? Why? There's been no set up for something potentially more? It wasn't a bad set of eps but it'd be nice if we had something abit more concrete or with more stakes attached to it, this late in, especially with our villain group, how and why are they still butting heads at this stage?

It does seem to be a recurring thing, the villains are good in the first half but can't quite keep up in the second and that just makes both sides seem underwhelming.

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

070 of 2025

Are any of your friendships on a fine line?

I don't call them friendships anymore.

If I search your room, will I find birth control?

No. Two guys don't need birth control.

Do you expect any of your ex’s to call or text you?

Maybe Nielsje, but certainly not now.

Have you ever witnessed a birth?

Does my cat giving birth count? If so, then yes.

Where’s your favorite place to be when you feel depressed?

My hometown. And the beach ib my hometown, or the Raversijde beach.

Are you currently looking forward to tomorrow?

Kind of. We're going for groceries.

When was the last time you held someone’s hand?

Long time ago, I'm not into holding hands.

Have you ever faked sick?

No. I had no reason.

Do you wear hoodies to bed?

Nope, but does anyone actually do? It sounds uncomfortable.

Are you currently wearing jeans?

No. I'm at home.

Do you buy eggnog around the holidays?

No, I don't like it. Besides, it's not our tradition.

Have you gone to a coffee shop within the past week?

Lol no, I'm not in the Netherlands. (Cheers to those who understood the reference.) I was in Starbucks today.

Would you like to be able to read thoughts?

Nope. I don't want to know too much.

Are you often the last one to understand a joke?

No. Surprisingly not.

Your first black eye: Did you give it or get it?

I didn't.

Do you think baseball is a dying professional sport in America?

Why would I care about American sports as an European?

Does playing the guitar make a guy more attractive?

No. Intelligence does, though. Talent is just a bonus.

Have you ever slept in a tent, indoors or out?

Yeah, outdoors. I was a teenager and I wanted to try it.

What does your hair look like at the moment?

Messy.

Are you mad right now?

Not anymore. But today was the day of nothing going right.

Who did you spend your summer with last year?

My husband, we were in Poland.

Did you eat a cookie today?

Yeah, rice cookie. It's rijstevlaai, a cookie native to my country. You rather won't find it anywhere else.

Have you heard of wreck this journal?

Yes, I even own one copy. Never wrecked it, though XD

Do you know any one who lives in California?

I do, but only online. Never met her in person, but I like her so much.

Have you ever been told you were a good writer?

Nope, but I know I'm not, you really don't have to tell me XD

What do you put on your baked potatoes?

I don't like baked potatoes. I love puree and mashed potatoes, though. I put butter in.

Have you ever been on a farm?

Yes. My extended family owns a farm.

Last three texts on your phone are from?

Jesus, I hate these boring questions. Who cares about phone texts?

What are you listening to?

There's TV in the background, that Polish TV series about a priest again.

Are you one to take naps?

Yeah, unfortunately. My energy burns out way quicker than it used to before I was disabled.

Did you ever have braces?

No, I didn't.

Have you kissed anyone in the last five days?

Yeah, my husband. We always give each other little pecks for good morning and goodbye.

Are you afraid of flying?

Yeah. One of the reasons I've never been on a plane.

Do you have freckles?

A lot. Mostly on my face and shoulders.

Do you have plans for today?

I just came back home, it's almost 22.

Would you rather date someone five years older or five years younger than you?

No difference at my age. Both 30 and 40 is fine.

Why aren’t you texting the last person you kissed?

Who said I'm not?

If you had to live off one type of fruit, which would you pick?

Strawberries or sour cherries, I can't decide.

What were you doing at 7:45AM this morning?

I was 15 minutes into my shift at work.

What was the last thing you drank?

Hot chocolate from Starbucks.

Where did you get the shirt you’re wearing?

Nowhere lol, how do you even know what I'm wearing.

Do you plan on sleeping in tomorrow?

I don't make such plans, especially having strict medication schedule.

How often do you drink Monster?

Never. I don't fancy getting another stroke.

Are you easy to get along with?

Apparently, unless I'm in not the best mood.

Are you short?

If you call 5'11 short, then yes lol.

Can you ever get enough of mac ‘n’ cheese?

God I hate mac 'n cheese. The texture makes me gag.

Are you allergic to nuts or dairy products?

Yes, to nuts. Thankfully not deadly. I also have mild lactose intolerance, but I can't resist dairy. Guess who farts a lot.

Do you have trust issues?

Yes, unless I get to know you better. I have seen a lot.

Is there someone you want to let go of?

Not anymore.

Do you think age matters in relationships?

No, unless it's an adult and a minor. Love matters.

Has anyone ever called the cops on you?

Yeah. I dialled the wrong number as a kid lol, I was 12. It was a prank and someone took it way too seriously. The policemen were seriously surprised when they saw a kiddo XD

How old are you?

Gonna be 35 soon.

Did you talk to someone until you fell asleep last night?

No. I was asleep already when my husband came back from work, he finished his shift at midnight.

Do you go to church every Sunday?

No. I go whenever I feel the need, and not to holy masses.

Can you recall the last time you liked someone?

Eh. Romance is not for me. Besides, I love my husband.

Do you like your height?

Could be taller, but okay.

Is the last person of the opposite sex you texted single?

No, she's my mum and she's married to my dad.

Could you go a week without brushing your teeth?

Barely, only if I had no other choice. But it's quite disgusting.

What day is it?

Friday. Weekends is calling yay.

Are you usually awake at midnight?

Usually not.

Does it get really cold where you live?

Not really. Right now, it's 1°C. It rarely goes below zero and snows even more rarely.

When you get home from school / work do you change into your pjs right away?

No lol. I have a life besides work.

Have you ever been peer pressured to smoke pot?

No. Some of my friends do it, but no one forces anyone here.

Have you ever played the game Sims 3?

Not more than creating characters.

What is the temperature currently in the town you live in?

1°C.

Do you ever actually drink milk alone?

No, with friends lol. I love whole milk, though, and yeah I drink it.

If you don’t have one already, would you consider getting an iPhone?

I got an iPhone as a gift last year and holy shit, I can't get used to it. Thankfully I still have my old Samsung.

What year were you born in?

1990.

[castle-dominion]

castle 5x22 the squab & the quail

hhhhhh this episode reminds me I have work this afternoon screw that. I just prayed an entire rosary so I get to go home early

Ok wow gay servers such a thing, loud chefs, loud expo, GIVE THEM THE GOSHDARN CHIT THO squab & quail DON'T TOUCH THE PLATE LIKE THAT Spray on purpose or...? poison? Ew glass tables

that is a lot of money & pricey af the poison would not work that fast... in a situation like that, point at some SPECIFIC person & tell them to call 911

Girl he's playing a videogame pwned XD he had plans to play with Patel! it's not my mom it's worse XD so true bestie

canadian lol

lmao ew capitalism

clipped the *oof* now

RC: Last supper list. (off their look) You and a table of 12 with anyone from history. What is mine, you ask? I’m glad you did. In order it is, Lincoln, Einstein, Ian Fleming, John Lennon, Joan of Arc, Sinatra – (he notices BECKETT’S face dropping. she sighs) And you, of course. Ok but Joan of Arc MMMMM that smile from ryan XD

at least he holds up a finger nice of him ig HE KNOWS HIS BOOKS

Esposito has returned Lmao ofc it was propped open, u know how hot it gets & how many chefs smoke?

"when you're paying attention" lol

dark hair MAYBE

shouldn't be but it always is RC: Corporate raider shutters a chemical plant and ends up eating crow. Or in this case, poisoned squab. It’s poetic. Diabolically speaking.

Nice outfit on esposito. also ryan. & everyone. Like beckett.

Maybe smth from the carribbean where his family was?

I don't need to clip but Iwill, lanie <3

castle REMEMBERS the menu? maybe ryan just didn't know lol

Lucas, this is the kid who said yes chef & served the plates

Yep all this screaming. I don't want to go to work.

KB: Do you know anyone that would want you dead? Eric Vaugh: No Me: you're a rich capitalist, what are you thinking? he's actually... surprisingly,, considerate

Petra? the indian boy?

PRIVATE security

a heart in the coffee <3 <3 I could clip this but I won't RC: (scoffs) Jealous? (off her amused look) Yes. Yeah he's cool & stuff but I love YOU KB: he is not interested in me VG: hi, he wants u specifically I think it's cool how she wants to recommend specific uniformed officers lol ONLY beckett?

Hit list? clipping this jenny my beloved wow esposito's hair JE: Because at the moment he is stupid drunk. Seeing double. skfjslkdjfsdkfsj RC: To make him the best damn cup of coffee he’s ever had.

He did a background check? good afternoon <3 David Anderson (the attorney): If he gives you any trouble we can put him on investor conference calls all day.

Saxiphone Lanie my beloved freebie five?

Talented researcher bro Beckett's turtleneck <3

I like her outfit & esposito looks kind of boring but nice & ryan looks beautiful I recognize her tbh the room is too dark. The other room needs to be darker for the glass to work

castle rattling the door what is even..?? XD XD XD RC: Okay, so after two cups of coffee, a latte, and three espressos our homeless friend Mr. Hazelton over there finally sobered up. yk i'm clipping

nice transition into the building them walking, rly good

Oof right in the head like that...

OH YES THEY REMEMBERED THE ALLERGY THEY GAVE HIM IN S1 HECK YEAH KR: I’ll live, unlike Cory Harrison. Ok that reminds me, in the The Ring episode, ther was no forced entry for the first vic, they never solved that

Ey beckett is here VG: You and the boys can go back there Mr. Castle. Why kill the busboy after getting him to kill someone else? using one murder to cover up another?

Just like my mom. She trusts me, but not the ppl I'm around castle chill

RC: Let’s get to that restaurant and get some answers. CASTLE leads the way out the door but RYAN and ESPOSITO don’t follow him. They head for their desks. RC: Seriously, guys. I mean it.

is this the same hotel they used in LA?

Sussman? gun ok yeah valid but ew she's right Ooh! Thank you sir! the essential lol, booze & a pretty girl

*hits himself in the eye* you know during The Thing, she coud have said "we were that close because he did a dumb" but the champagne was already poured so it would not have been a good excuse *update* yeah castle visits the hotel at some point after champagne before The Thing

Ooooof, legit? This is new york!

She is going to reveal that!?!? not too much tho ooh architecture! You patented that? I mean,,, you have a reason,, but make it free too bro I have suffered for it XD

Gates is so pretty castle not knowing how to do stuff & ryan doing it for him jashsjdfkjsfdh also castle investigator moments, gates is probably impressed what's on his neck? KB: Oh my gosh. You’re sounding like my dad dropping me off at summer camp. Remember petra tho? JEALOUSY

Tory jdsfdsjflkh I love her See? I mentioned the neck THE PRESCHOOL I was right! POSSIBLE match

Apple XD & alexis <3 Castle don't yell at your daughter MARTHA NOT THE RIGHT THING TO SAY & alexis' shirt martha is sort of right but GIRL SHUP

Wait they said ballistics would take a few hours, why are they still at work? why is CASTLE home? He would be the one to stay as long as possible! why didn't they text the photo last time? JE: Yep. He’s a match for height, age, and placement of creepy neck tattoo.

He really is a charmer except for one thing: why won't you sleep with me? Well you could CALL castle & ask his permission... say "hey I want to sleep with him but I LOVE you & I want your permission, because I respect you & if you say no then I will not" & that might actually be the thing to drive castle to say yes bc she trusts him & loves him & will always come back to him even if she sleeps with this guy. & also castle would be able to say she slept with eric vaughn & still chose me

He dead?

Castle <3 lol she's right KB: Yeah, preferably one without windows that snipers can't shoot through.

KR: Hey Beckett, I hate to do this to you, but I need to take your statement. *taps his notebook* Beckett could have said "actually if he was there I must have been a bit farther back" also it's cool how dever gets to wear his wedding ring (with duplicates of it) on camera bc his character is canonically married. & ryan's wife's actress is married to ryan's actor. Cool af. KR: Right … (he moves to where she gestures) … here. *He looks up and realizes he’s right in BECKETT’S space. He backs up a bit and looks to the hole in the window.* *almost clocks her in the jaw* stumbled you say. ryan taking it down as if he believes her yk rly sus, eats the wrong food, stumbles at the shot, sounds like he knew what was going on. KB: He kissed me castle KR: I'M DONE HERE *leaves*

RC: Well, if he kissed you, why wouldn’t you just push him away? KB: RC: Oh. Which is why he’s not dead.

She's from a farming family? She's a lead researcher. I'm proud of her. Why else would he want toxin? Oh. nvm. rival lab. AFTER the drop? No deposit fee? I would say "one quarter now to know you're good, I give you what you want, the remainder after" or smth.

Going on a tour! WAIT WHAT? HE AUTHORIZED IT? mexicali? she believes him too much girl that's exactly how they make money.

RC: Oh Beckett. That’s what they said about Bernie Madoff. Like Madoff, it’s quite possible Vaughn’s entire empire is a house of cards. If Felder was going to visit MexiSolar he would have found out about the scam. The house of cards would collapse. Eric Vaughn couldn’t have that. And what better way to get away with murder than to make yourself look to be the intended target? Don’t you see? This entire thing is a charade.

RC: Of all the confessions over all the years, this one is going to hold a special place in my heart. the universe demands why not get ryan or esposito?

Right, he doesn't actually look at the things he signs, he doesn't oversee the day-to-day... that's how you become a billionaire. He would NOT have JUST ONE person overseeing, he would delegate. it's like when you're a chef, if you own the place you don't cook. If you are a manager you don't line cook. You delegate to your test kitchen manager, your individual establishment managers, they delegate to their sous chefs & chefs to parties, there is not (usuall) one person who owns the place & then delegates to a single manager, they would delegate to multiple people who are in charge of different things.

RC: Oops yeah digging your own grave b'y

key word: FEEL LIKE you know them right, new york is way closer to the canadian border than mexico. Ooh the music!

Tell him he's on your last supper list. I like his outfit Do you? *tries to catch him in the elevator*

viddy game & a rose. playstation specifically. HE JUST BROKE THE CORD

Just symbolic

Becks, you can ask him again.

Ok I have an extra 12 minutes. Then I have abt half an hour before I need to go to work. Which is stupid. I need to leave for work an hour & a half before my shift!?!? I mean it is a 45 minute bus ride & I need to be there 15m early to change & iron so that's an hour, but my bus either gets there 5 minutes early (or less) or 35 minutes early. So that's another 15min there, & ofc I need to give myself 15m before I leave just in case. That's more like when I stop doing whatever I'm doing & get ready to go. But I might not be able to get it done in 15m so I need to use these 10 extra minutes right now. I need to put on my binder & make sure I have my bus tickets & stuff. Then I can leave. so it's an hour & a half. ew af.

So I might not get started on the next castle, I might instead try to post some of my drafts & clips so I can get space on my phone.

Pray that I get cut early pls.

[maybefanficting]

Hello yes today you get a live reblog.

“Why didn’t anyone know?”

Asking the #RealQuestions.

“Why the transfer?”

Well, he's full of questions today !

And then Tim asked—casually, but with quiet intention: “What now?”

SEE !

“And now?”

It'll never stop ! Once he starts, there's nothing stopping him Somebody do something !

“That’s okay,” Tim said, tone low, even.

Not a question ?!

“I’m fully dressed and even made my bed. Don’t ruin my rep.” Rachel smirked and leaned back against the counter. “That the bar now? Beds and pants?” “You say that like it’s not high-functioning adulthood.”

“Says the man who left me a spinach omelette like a breakfast ninja.”

It's funny she says that. I did some scrambled eggs just a moment ago and I wondered how he cooked and she didn't wake up.

“You didn’t have to. You didn’t throw it out, and in your world, that’s high praise.”

HoW dO yOu KnOw ThAt TiM ? HMMM ...

Rachel tilted her head, smile tugging at the edge of her mouth. “I eat.” “Questionable.” “You done?” “Not even close.”

How this fast paced dialogue felt like :

Another pause. Long enough to mean something. Then Tim said, “If the lazy rice bowl turns out edible, I expect a photo.”

Now my head canon is Tim is foodstagram.

Rachel didn’t hang up. She stayed on the line while she got up, pulled the rice from the fridge, and started heating the pan. Neither of them said anything more for a while. But the silence? It was full. Alive. And hers to share.

Tim, move in already.

And for some reason she couldn’t quite name, she found herself lifting her phone and snapping a picture of it.

Girl, let me introduce you to Polaroid. It's even better. After, you take a picture with your phone of your pola' and send it to people. It's peak. Foodstagram-boy will not question it. And then, you put the pola' on your fridge, next to the post-it. And then, Tim moves in.

TIM: Solid C+ plating. Would still eat. Hold on.

Hold on ?! Hold on ?! FOODSTAGRAM CONFIRMED

Another minute passed. Then another message landed. This one had a photo.

Excuse-me while I'm smug.

TIM: Next time, we make it together.

EXCUSE ME WHILE I'M FABULOUS

“You ever think about picking it up again?”

Really, a question Tim ? Actually, I'm laughing. I know someone who does that, keep asking questions as if it's a conversation in itself.

Exactly what she hadn’t known she needed.

Yeah. That's the guy. That's lovely. And Infuriating.

Tim blinked. “The Thai place with the chili basil tofu that’ll ruin your mouth for hours?”

Sounds awful. Of course he accepted.

Tim confessed to liking pineapple on pizza just to start fights.

Marry me.

“Then let’s find her,” he said.

Girl. That's a date. Or multiple ones.

“Wrong. I like background noise. Old jazz. Instrumentals. Sometimes podcasts.”

MARRY-ME

“You ever have nights like this where you don’t want the quiet to come back too soon?”

Oof. Hey. By the way, loving each and every title XD

Breaking The Wall - Part Seven of ?

Pairings: Tim Bradford x Original Female Character

Series Summary: When Sergeant Tim Bradford is partnered with Officer Rachel Grace—a sharp, emotionally guarded transfer with a reputation for pushing the limits—tension ignites from day one. Rachel operates with cold precision, often disregarding protocol in the name of efficiency, while Tim, shaped by trauma and discipline, clings to order and control. Though their approaches clash, their results are undeniable, forcing them into a reluctant partnership that slowly deepens through shared pressure and unspoken understanding. As they navigate high-stakes calls, moral boundaries, and the weight of unresolved grief, what begins as friction evolves into trust—and eventually, something neither of them expected.

Word Count: 7,976

Tags/Warnings: Cop procedures, police work, angst (so much), a touch of fluff

A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

NOTE: This is my first foray into The Rookie universe! I'm still playing catch up on the series itself, but I was too excited about this idea to wait! So take it as an Alternate Universe where not everything will be to precise detail of the series! Enjoy!

Also: Posting schedule will be 1 to 2 times a week for this series. We'll see how it goes!

Dividers: credit to @firefly-graphics

Chapter Seven: Waking Up

Saturday – 10:26 A.M. – Riverside Trail, Near the Old Footbridge

The river beside them babbled softly over smooth stones. A dragonfly zipped past, catching the light. A boy’s laughter echoed from further down the trail, bouncing off the trees like some remnant of a life Rachel used to imagine having.

They’d been quiet for several minutes since she spoke about Jake—his laugh, his devotion, the way he loved.

Tim didn’t push for more. But as the path curved near an old, graffiti-tagged footbridge, his voice came again. Still gentle. Still steady. But searching now.

“Why didn’t anyone know?”

Rachel turned her head slightly.

He met her eyes only for a second. “You and Jake,” he clarified. “I mean, everyone guessed. Rumors made their rounds. But no one ever confirmed anything. Not even after.”

Rachel looked away, her eyes focusing on a low branch swaying in the breeze. “It was policy,” she said, after a moment. “Back then, even the possibility of something between us would’ve gotten us split up.”

Her voice didn’t carry bitterness. Just truth.

“We were good together—in the field. Sharp. Fast. We anticipated each other’s moves. Trusted each other without blinking. Neither of us wanted to risk losing that.”

Tim nodded slightly. “So you kept it quiet.”

Rachel nodded, too. “At first it was just glances. Inside jokes. Late-night calls that weren’t about reports. Then it became… more. Quiet nights off. Mornings after shift. The kind of love that fits into cracks between everything else.”

Her voice cracked just a touch—but she kept going. “We kept it quiet because the job was sacred. And we didn’t want to give them a reason to separate us. Maybe it clouded things. Maybe it shouldn’t have mattered as much.”

She slowed her steps. Tim did too. “But it was us. And we didn’t want to lose it.”

The wind picked up again, scattering leaves across the trail. Rachel’s next words were quieter. “He didn’t hesitate. That day.”

She didn’t have to explain.

Tim already knew what she meant.

“He moved in front of me,” she continued. “Instinct. Love. I don’t know. But it cost him everything.” She looked at him then—not pleading. Just offering. “I used to think that if we hadn’t been together, he might’ve hesitated. That maybe he wouldn’t have taken the shot.”

Tim didn’t interrupt. Didn’t correct her. He let the weight of the memory stand.

Rachel’s shoulders lifted with a slow, measured breath. “But if the roles were reversed, I would’ve done the same. In a heartbeat.”

Tim’s voice was low. “And that’s how I know it wasn’t wrong.”

She stared at him. Eyes raw. But not wounded. Just open. Tim looked ahead again, letting her hold her moment. Letting her keep Jake’s memory without asking her to rewrite it. And when they walked again, neither of them said another word for a while. But the air between them?

It was different now.

Not clearer. Not cleaner. But shared. And for Rachel Grace, that was more than she ever thought she’d allow.

Saturday – 10:41 A.M. – End of the Trail, Resting Near a Fenced Outlook

They had stopped for water at the overlook where the trees opened wide to reveal the river at its broadest. Below, the city shimmered in summer haze, buildings rising between green, stretching into a skyline Rachel had learned to navigate both on foot and from the inside of a cruiser.

Rachel leaned on the railing, water bottle in one hand, eyes fixed on the horizon.

Tim stood a few feet away, close enough that she could feel his presence even if he didn’t speak.

And that was when he did. Quiet. Measured. But direct. “Why the transfer?”

Rachel didn’t react at first. She kept her eyes ahead, like she’d known the question was coming. Because of course it was. When she finally answered, her voice was low. “I was cleared. Psych signed off. Fit for duty, no flags.”

A beat passed. She continued. “But I wasn’t the same. Not after Jake.”

Tim didn’t respond. Let her take her time.

Rachel’s fingers tightened slightly around the bottle. “My captain… he tried. Kept me partnered up. Moved me through training details, admin slots. But I kept everyone at arm’s length. Maybe further.”

She exhaled slowly. “And after a while, the silence in the precinct got loud.”

Her eyes dropped to the ground below, following the movement of people in the park below—so distant, so normal. “He called me in one morning. Said I was doing my job. Said there was no disciplinary record. Said the department had no cause to take me off the street.”

She paused again. “But he also said I was a ghost. That no one knew how to talk to me anymore. That they were always waiting for me to snap or vanish.”

Her voice cracked—not with pain, but resignation. “He said he didn’t know how to help me anymore.”

Tim turned his head slightly. Watching her now. Quietly.

Rachel added, “So he suggested the transfer. Said it might be a reset. A place to re-learn how to be something other than haunted.”

She let out a sharp breath. “He didn’t say it like that, but that’s what he meant.”

“And Grey?” Tim asked.

Rachel shrugged. “He reached out. Offered the spot within a day.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “I figured he had a need.”

Tim nodded once, carefully. “He did,” he said softly.

He didn’t say the rest. He didn’t tell her that Grey had done it not because of department need, but because of a favor called in across precinct lines. Because Jake O’Hare was once Grey’s best. Because Jake died a hero, and Grey would never be done honoring that debt—not by talking about Jake, but by protecting what Jake left behind.

Tim kept that part. Because Rachel didn’t need to know that this new chapter had been carved from grief and legacy. She needed to believe she had earned it. Because she had. She always had.

Tim said nothing more. And neither did she. They stood side by side in the rising heat, the sun climbing higher. And while she stared at the city ahead, Rachel never noticed the way Tim watched her.

Not with pity. Not with doubt. But with something quietly profound. Recognition. She was still standing. And now—he knew why.

Saturday – 10:58 A.M. – Back on the Trail, Returning Toward the Street

The sun was higher now, casting sharper shadows through the trees. The breeze had stilled again, and their footsteps crunched softly on the gravel path. Families passed them in reverse—headed to the river, to shaded benches and picnic tables.

Rachel and Tim walked slower than before. Not tired. Just thoughtful. The silence between them was companionable, but full—full of what had already been said and what was still waiting.

And then Tim asked—casually, but with quiet intention: “What now?”

Rachel glanced at him, brow twitching faintly. He wasn’t asking what’s next today. He wasn’t asking about logistics. He was asking about her life. She didn’t answer right away.

Instead, she looked forward—eyes catching on the curve of the trail ahead, on a young girl holding her father’s hand, skipping through patches of light.

She watched them go. Then looked down at the ground between her own feet as they moved. “I don’t know,” she said honestly.

It wasn’t an evasion. It was a confession. She let the silence breathe.

“I’ve always loved the job,” she continued after a long beat. “I loved the rhythm of it. The certainty. The moments where instinct takes over and you just move. The feeling of doing something real.”

Tim nodded once. Not prompting. Just giving her the space to speak.

“But somewhere along the way, I stopped letting the rest of life exist around it. Like if I just kept going shift after shift, I wouldn’t have to face how everything else got… quiet.”

Her voice softened. “After Jake, I stopped imagining anything outside the job. It was the only thing I could carry.” She looked at him now. Fully.

“And now?”

She exhaled—long, slow. “Now… I think maybe it’s time for more.”

Tim held her gaze. Didn’t smile. Didn’t rush. Just absorbed that truth like it mattered. Because it did.

Rachel looked back ahead, the trail narrowing as it neared the street. “I don’t know what more looks like yet,” she admitted.

“That’s okay,” Tim said, tone low, even.

She looked at him, brow raised.

He shrugged slightly. “You’ve got time.”

Rachel didn’t respond right away. But a moment later, she said quietly—

“Maybe now, for the first time, I actually believe that.”

They kept walking. No hand-holding. No big gestures. But their shoulders drew just a little closer as the sidewalk came into view, and the day kept moving.

And Rachel Grace—

For the first time in a long, long time—

Wasn’t just surviving.

She was starting to live.

Saturday – 1:14 P.M. – Rachel’s Apartment, Kitchen

The late afternoon sunlight streamed through the window above the sink, catching on the edges of a half-diced bell pepper and a carton of eggs she hadn’t committed to yet. Rachel stood barefoot on the cool tile floor, hair loosely gathered at the nape of her neck, one hand resting on her hip as she stared down at the open fridge.

Nothing appealed. Or maybe everything did. She wasn’t sure. The day had been… full. Not in the way that overwhelmed her. Not like it used to. Just full in a way that left her needing a different kind of pause. Something less intense. Something… lighter.

She reached for her phone on the counter, opened her recent calls. Tim. She hovered a beat. Then tapped. Two rings.

“Grace,” he answered, voice relaxed. Familiar.

“You sound like you just woke up.”

“I’m fully dressed and even made my bed. Don’t ruin my rep.”

Rachel smirked and leaned back against the counter. “That the bar now? Beds and pants?”

“You say that like it’s not high-functioning adulthood.”

She chuckled under her breath. It surprised her—how easy it was to laugh. “I was debating lunch,” she said, still eyeing the fridge like it was the enemy.

“Let me guess,” Tim said. “You’ve got five random ingredients and no idea what to do with them.”

“Six. Don’t shortchange me.”

He sounded like he was smiling. “And none of them go together, right?”

Rachel glanced at the fridge door, then the counter. “Red pepper, eggs, a suspicious wedge of cheese, half an avocado, one sad tomato, and leftover rice.”

A pause.

“You could make something out of that,” he said.

“Says the man who left me a spinach omelette like a breakfast ninja.”

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

“I didn’t say thank you.”

“You didn’t have to. You didn’t throw it out, and in your world, that’s high praise.”

She rolled her eyes and dropped into the nearest kitchen chair. “I was thinking maybe rice and eggs. Lazy bowl.”

“Add the tomato. Maybe cheese. Sounds like a plan.”

“You’re weirdly invested in my food decisions.”

“I’m just making sure you don’t live off coffee and air.”

Rachel tilted her head, smile tugging at the edge of her mouth. “I eat.”

“Questionable.”

“You done?”

“Not even close.”

A silence followed—but it wasn’t dead air. It was ease. She let it stretch. And when she spoke again, her voice was softer. “Today was hard. But it wasn’t… heavy.”

“I know.”

“Thanks for asking me to talk about Jake.”

Tim didn’t respond right away. Then, “You didn’t have to answer.”

“I know. That’s why I did.”

Another pause. Long enough to mean something. Then Tim said, “If the lazy rice bowl turns out edible, I expect a photo.”

Rachel smirked. “And if it doesn’t?”

“I’ll pretend it looks gourmet and lie to protect your dignity.”

“That’s what partners are for?”

“Exactly.”

Rachel didn’t hang up. She stayed on the line while she got up, pulled the rice from the fridge, and started heating the pan. Neither of them said anything more for a while. But the silence? It was full. Alive. And hers to share.

Saturday – 7:03 P.M. – Rachel’s Apartment, Living Room

The sun had dipped low enough to throw amber light across the floorboards, the sky outside her window caught somewhere between blue and gold. Rachel sat cross-legged on the couch, still in the same joggers and tank top from earlier, hair pulled into a loose, slightly crooked bun.

Her dinner had been nothing special—rice, eggs, tomato, just enough seasoning not to hate it. But it had been enough. And for some reason she couldn’t quite name, she found herself lifting her phone and snapping a picture of it.

Not artfully arranged. Not filtered. Just real. A moment, captured. She opened her messages and attached it without overthinking.

RACHEL: Not a masterpiece, but edible. Don’t judge the presentation.

She hit send.

It took maybe a minute before the reply came in.

TIM: Solid C+ plating. Would still eat. Hold on.

Another minute passed. Then another message landed. This one had a photo. A container of roasted chicken, green beans, and potatoes, neatly boxed and clearly from somewhere takeout-adjacent.

TIM: Mine came from someone with actual kitchen training. I still feel like yours wins.

Rachel raised an eyebrow at the photo.

RACHEL: You bought dinner.

TIM: I assembled it on a plate. That’s cooking-adjacent.

RACHEL: Sure. We’ll call that culinary effort.

Another pause. Then his next message arrived:

TIM: Next time, we make it together.

Rachel stared at the screen. It didn’t make her heart skip. It didn’t twist her stomach. It just… settled something. A weightless kind of invitation. No pressure. No implications.

Just two people who had spent enough time in silence and sorrow, finally allowing room for something else.

RACHEL: Deal.

She set the phone down and leaned back against the couch. And this time? She didn’t feel like she was ending the day alone. She felt like she was continuing something. Slow. Quiet. Steady. Exactly as it should be.

Monday – 6:51 A.M. – Mid-Wilshire Division, Squad Room

The buzz of early shift filled the air—lockers closing, radios squawking, boots moving with half-caffeinated purpose. Officers checked rosters, flipped through call logs, and hovered near the coffee pot as though it were life support.

Rachel Grace walked in quietly. But this time, it wasn’t the kind of quiet that dared you to approach her. It was calm. Balanced. She moved with intention—uniform sharp, vest clipped without a wrinkle, hair cleanly pulled back, but not like she was hiding behind it. Just ready.

There was no hardness in her eyes this morning. No flat edge to her voice as she greeted the officer at the end of the hallway with a low, “Morning.”

A real morning. Not a test. Not a wall.

Lucy Chen glanced up from where she was talking with Angela and caught it right away. She blinked. Paused. Her eyes flicked to Tim, who’d just walked in a step behind Rachel, holding his coffee.

His expression was unreadable—but Lucy had known him too long to miss the way his shoulders dropped the slightest bit as Rachel peeled off toward her locker without hesitation.

Relaxed. Trusting.

“Okay,” Lucy muttered under her breath, crossing her arms. “Something’s different.”

Angela raised a brow. “She smile or something?”

“No.” Lucy tilted her head. “But I didn’t flinch walking past her, which—if you remember a few months ago—felt like a miracle.”

Angela looked down the hallway again, considering.

Rachel was greeting another officer—just a nod and a low word, but the other woman nodded back without hesitation.

Lucy narrowed her eyes, then turned to Tim, who was just about to slide past them with a low nod. “Bradford,” Lucy called.

He stopped. “Yeah?”

Lucy gave him a half-smile, subtle, eyes sharp. “She seems… lighter.”

Tim shrugged. “Maybe she is.”

Angela’s voice was quieter now. “You?”

Tim didn’t answer. He just looked past them—toward the end of the hallway, where Rachel was closing her locker, buckling her belt in rhythm with the buzz of the day around her. And when she turned, met his eyes across the room—

She smiled. Just the faintest hint. A real one. And Tim? He nodded once. Then walked toward her. No fanfare. No drama. Just two officers who moved like they’d been doing this forever.

Monday – 10:39 A.M. – Fairfax Residential Complex, Active Call

The call came in as a suspicious vehicle and loitering complaint—routine enough to warrant caution, but not urgency. By the time Rachel and Tim arrived on scene, two other patrol units were already canvassing the area, canvasing half-heartedly under the mid-morning sun.

A white van sat idling near a service alley, windows rolled up, no plates. The kind of detail that sets something off in your gut before your brain catches up. But it was Rachel who saw it first. She stood at the edge of the alley, hands on her vest, surveying the scene.

The way the van was parked—half-shielded by dumpsters. The slight angle that gave just enough view of the stairwell near the building’s east exit. A strategic line of sight.

Rachel narrowed her eyes. “No one else is looking at the building,” she murmured to Tim. “They’re focused on the van.”

Tim followed her gaze. A maintenance door was cracked open. Not wide—but just enough to be deliberate. Rachel’s jaw tightened.

“Something’s wrong.”

Tim trusted her instinct. Didn’t question it. He radioed in immediately.

Grey arrived minutes later with two SWAT-trained officers and stood beside her as she calmly laid out her observations—cracked door, angle of the vehicle, likely surveillance of building residents, possible intent to intercept foot traffic coming from inside.

She was cool. Precise. No nerves. No overcompensation. Just sharp tactical reading. Grey listened, arms crossed over his chest, eyes trained on the scene—but his focus was all on Rachel.

When officers swept the building? They found two suspects inside—one with a warrant for trafficking, the other on federal watch lists. The van was loaded with gear. Surveillance tech. Zip ties.

Rachel’s call had prevented something bigger than a loitering charge. As the suspects were cuffed and escorted out, Grey stepped beside her. His voice was low. Measured. But Rachel caught the weight of it immediately.

“Good work.”

She gave a short nod, her eyes still scanning the perimeter. “It felt wrong.”

“It was.” Grey paused. Then added—quieter: “It’s good to see you back.”

Rachel didn’t answer right away. Because she knew what he meant. He wasn’t talking about her psych clearance. Wasn’t talking about the field-readiness logs. He meant her.

The part of her that everyone thought might never resurface. The part buried with Jake. The woman who used to see everything, and move like she belonged to the world, not just the job.

She turned to him then, steady. “Thanks, Sergeant.”

Grey gave her a short nod, already walking away. But Rachel stood a little taller. Not because she was proud. But because she was present. And Tim? He said nothing. Just walked beside her to the cruiser. And when he opened the door for her, their eyes met again—calm. Real. Familiar.

Rachel got in, buckled up. And in that still moment before the engine started—she finally knew she belonged again.

Monday – 1:02 P.M. – Mid-Wilshire Division, Report Room

The precinct had slowed into that late-afternoon lull, where the caffeine was wearing off and everyone was halfway between writing reports and staring blankly at screens.

Rachel sat at one of the long tables near the front of the report room, sleeves rolled, pen in hand, jotting down the sequence of events from the call that morning. Her brows were slightly drawn, focused, but not tense.

Just present.

Lucy passed by the doorway, catching sight of her. Then spotted Tim down the hall—just exiting the armory, shifting his radio back into place. She watched him for a second, calculating something with her usual quiet sharpness. Then stepped forward.

“Bradford.”

He turned, one brow lifting. “Chen.”

“Got a second?”

He glanced toward Rachel, still deep in her report, then nodded and followed Lucy a few paces down the hallway—just far enough not to be overheard.

She didn’t drag it out. Didn’t smirk. Didn’t prod. Her tone was gentler than usual. “She's different.”

Tim looked back toward the report room. “Yeah.”

“She walked in this morning like the floor wasn’t going to fall out from under her.”

Tim said nothing.

Lucy’s eyes softened. “I’ve been watching her since day one. We all have. She didn’t just go quiet—she evaporated. But today…” She paused, then said it plainly: “Today, she was Rachel Grace again.”

Tim glanced at the floor. Then said, low: “She never stopped being her.”

Lucy gave a faint smile. “No. But she stopped letting anyone see it.”

Tim looked toward the report room again.

Rachel hadn’t noticed them. Still writing, hair tucked behind one ear, jaw set in quiet determination.

“She let you see it,” Lucy added softly.

Tim didn’t react outwardly. But Lucy caught the subtle shift in his posture—the quiet weight of that truth. “I don’t think she even knows she did,” Lucy said. “But I hope you do.”

She clapped his shoulder gently, just once. Then walked away without waiting for a response.

Tim stood there another few seconds, watching Rachel from a distance. Not smiling. Just grounded. Because Lucy was right. Rachel was back.

And she’d let him see her first.

Monday – 1:28 P.M. – Mid-Wilshire Division, Squad Room

The sound of Rachel’s pen scratching across the last line of her report was crisp, final. She capped it with a small click, flipped the folder shut, and slid it across the table with practiced ease.

She didn’t sigh. Didn’t stretch. She simply stood—quietly efficient—adjusted her belt, and tugged her sleeves back down with a fluid motion that had always been part habit, part armor. Only this time… there was no weight in the movement.

She gathered her folder, nodded once to the admin officer at the desk, and turned toward the exit.

Tim was already waiting just beyond the archway. No words. No gesture. Just presence. He fell into step beside her without needing to check if she was ready. She didn’t glance over to see if he was coming.

They both just moved. In rhythm. Down the hallway, past the lockers, toward the exit. Their boots struck the tile in steady tandem, the murmur of other officers fading behind them. Tim held the door open like he always did—not out of habit, but out of respect.

Rachel stepped through it without hesitation.

Outside, the sun had started to lower behind the buildings, casting long afternoon shadows across the pavement. The air smelled like heat and distant flowers. They didn’t speak. There was no need. And as they walked toward the lot, neither reached out.

Neither lingered. But the silence between them wasn’t a wall anymore. It was a foundation. And for the first time since she’d transferred to Wilshire—maybe the first time since Jake died—Rachel Grace didn’t feel like she was trying to survive the day.

She just lived through it. And Tim? He didn’t have to say anything to know it mattered. Because they both felt it—They weren’t walking alone anymore.

Tuesday – 6:02 A.M. – Mid-Wilshire Division, Squad Room

The room buzzed with the energy unique to early mornings in law enforcement—half-drowsy, half-focused. Radios chirped softly. Badges clipped into place. Vests tightened. Coffee cups were clutched like lifelines. Chairs scraped the floor, the occasional laugh broke through the haze, and the dry overhead lights painted everything in an amber, pre-sunrise glow.

Tim was already at his usual spot, leaning back in a chair along the wall, sipping his coffee while scanning the call board. His uniform was squared away. He looked calm, collected—the same kind of presence he always brought. Reliable. Grounded.

The door opened behind him. Rachel walked in. Not rushed. Not like she was bracing for anything. Just part of the room now.

Her hair was pulled back in the way she always wore it—clean, simple, professional. Her vest hugged her frame like it belonged there. She nodded to a passing officer. Returned a quiet “morning” when someone offered one.

Not closed off. Not overcompensating.

Just there.

She walked past the front row, not needing to scan for where Tim was. She already knew. Her steps slowed as she approached. Tim looked up and offered a nod—calm. Familiar. She gave one in return and settled into the seat beside him without a word.

Their elbows didn’t touch. Their bodies didn’t lean. But the space between them didn’t feel separate anymore. It felt shared. From the front of the room, Sergeant Grey stepped up to the podium and looked out over the gathered team.

“All right,” he called, voice crisp but even. “Let’s get started.”

Rachel leaned back slightly in her seat, one leg crossed loosely at the ankle, pen already poised between her fingers. She didn’t look stiff. Didn’t look guarded.

And Tim? He didn’t look at her once. Because he didn’t need to. They were already in sync.

Grey started briefing the shifts, passing around updated reports, assigning responses, but even as he spoke, his eyes flicked once—briefly—toward Rachel.

And he gave the faintest nod. No one else saw it. But Rachel did. And in that moment, sitting beside her partner, surrounded by the everyday noise of the job, Rachel Grace didn’t feel like the new transfer.

She didn’t feel like the cautionary tale. She just felt like herself. And she was ready to move.

Tuesday – 10:13 A.M. – On Patrol, Wilshire Boulevard

The cruiser moved in a slow, steady rhythm through late-morning traffic. Sunlight streaked through the windshield, and the city bustled quietly around them—too early for chaos, too late for stillness.

Rachel sat in the passenger seat, right elbow propped against the door, fingers loose near the radio mic. Her eyes flicked along the sidewalks, storefronts, alleyways—a routine sweep.

Until they passed a small, timeworn storefront tucked between a dry cleaner and a florist.

A hand-painted sign above the door read: “Wilshire Art & Supply.”

There were easels in the window—worn, wooden frames propped with care. Jars of old paintbrushes. Bright tubes of acrylics, soft pastels stacked like little soldiers. A sketch of a cityscape hung in the corner—pinned, not framed. Faint dust on the glass.

Rachel’s gaze lingered. A breath longer than usual. Her right hand twitched—an unconscious flex of the fingers. Tim noticed. Of course he did. He kept one hand on the wheel, glancing once in the rearview mirror before his voice cut softly through the silence.

“You ever think about picking it up again?”

Rachel didn’t answer immediately. She blinked, her head tilting slightly like she’d only just realized how long she’d been staring.

“I think about it,” she said finally. “Then I don’t.”

Tim nodded, eyes still on the road. “You looked at that place like it was calling you back.”

She huffed—barely. Not a real laugh. But close. “You’re very poetic today.”

“I call it observational talent.”

Rachel looked out the window again, eyes softer now. Thoughtful. “Time used to vanish when I painted,” she said quietly. “Hours gone in a blink. There’s not a lot of space for that kind of quiet anymore.”

Tim didn’t press. But he said, just under his breath— “Maybe it’s time to make space.”

Rachel didn’t look at him. But her fingers flexed again. And the thought… lingered.

Tuesday – 6:47 P.M. – Rachel’s Apartment, Front Door

Rachel had just stepped out of the shower, towel slung over her shoulders, hair damp and curling at the ends. She wore an old gray t-shirt soft with age and a pair of black drawstring pants—comfortable, lived-in, private.

The knock was soft. Two short raps.

She frowned slightly, drying her hands on the towel before crossing the small space to the door. She didn’t bother with the peephole—something about the knock told her exactly who it was.

When she opened it, she found Tim Bradford standing there in jeans and a fitted navy shirt, casual in a way that looked unintentional but always was. His hair was a little wind-tousled, and he held a brown paper bag in one hand.

He didn’t speak right away. Just offered a slight smile. “I know it’s probably out of line,” he said. “But I figured… maybe you don’t have any supplies anymore.”

He lifted the bag slightly, not pushing it toward her—just showing her. Offering.

Rachel’s eyes dropped to it, then back to his face. Her expression didn’t shift much, but something in her chest tightened. “Tim…”

He gave a small, one-shouldered shrug, the bag still hanging at his side.

“If you need to hit me for being presumptuous, I won’t stop you.”

Her lips parted, then pressed together again. She didn’t take the bag right away. She didn’t laugh, either. Instead, her voice came low. Real. “I’m not gonna hit you.”

She stepped back half a pace—just enough space to close the distance between them without saying a word. Tim took it. Crossed the threshold. Gently placed the bag on the entry table near her keys. Then stepped back again, giving her space.

She looked at the bag, then at him. Her throat bobbed with the effort to keep composure. Inside the paper sack, she knew without opening it that it would be thoughtful. Not grand. Not overdone. But intentional.

And it was.

“You didn’t have to,” she said softly.

“I know,” Tim replied, voice steady. “I just… saw the way you looked at that window. Thought maybe you hadn’t let yourself look like that in a while.”

She looked down. The moment stretched.

Then—

A quiet breath.

“Thank you,” she said.

Tim didn’t smile. He didn’t nod. He just met her eyes—present. And after another heartbeat, he stepped back toward the door.

“I’ll let you go,” he said. “Didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

“You didn’t.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You will.”

And then—She did something she hadn’t done before. As he stepped into the hallway, she called after him—just before the door shut.

“Tim?”

He paused, looked back.

Rachel stood with one hand on the doorframe, the bag beside her, her gaze steady. “This meant more than you probably think.”

Tim didn’t respond with words. He just held her gaze for one long moment. Then left her with the silence. And the gift. And the first step back to something she hadn’t touched in years.

Tuesday – 9:42 P.M. – Rachel’s Apartment, Living Room

The apartment was quiet. No TV. No music. Just the low hum of the refrigerator and the faint noise of traffic humming outside her window.

Rachel sat cross-legged on the floor near the coffee table, hair still slightly damp, tucked behind one ear. She wore a different shirt now—looser, older, more lived-in. Her phone was off. The lights dim.

And in front of her—The contents of the bag. The charcoal pencils had been carefully wrapped in a folded kitchen towel. The sketchpad was fresh, untouched. The paint tubes—just two—sat beside her like quiet promises of color, waiting for a future she hadn’t let herself imagine.

But it was the pencil she reached for first.

She held it in her right hand, fingers still familiar with the weight and balance, even after all this time. It felt heavier than she remembered. She opened the sketchpad. The first blank page met her eyes like an old friend—one she’d ghosted for too long.

For a while, she just sat there. Not drawing. Just breathing. And then, slowly, the pencil moved. No plan. No reference. No hesitation. She sketched the line of a jaw. The edge of a shoulder. The fold of a shirt sleeve. Not military straight. Not posed. Just stillness in motion.

She worked quietly, brow furrowed, breathing steady. A line between the brows. Not from anger—from focus. The slight curve of a mouth that wasn’t smiling, but wasn’t guarded either.

Eyes. Steady. Watching. But soft. And when she leaned back, hand smudged with charcoal, thumb pressing gently against the corner of the page to keep it from curling—

She saw him.

Tim Bradford.

As he’d stood in her doorway that evening. Bag in hand. Uninvited. Unassuming. Exactly what she hadn’t known she needed.

Rachel stared at the image for a long time. She didn’t label it. Didn’t sign it. She just turned the sketchpad closed, laid the pencil across the cover, and leaned back against the couch.

Her heart felt like it was stretching inside her chest. Not breaking. Waking. She closed her eyes. And for the first time in years…

She didn’t feel like she was alone in the room.

Wednesday – 6:03 A.M. – Mid-Wilshire Division, Squad Room

The early shift settled into its usual rhythm—boots on tile, murmured greetings, the crackle of radios as calls filtered in from other districts. The harsh fluorescent lighting did nothing to soften the mood, but the day had begun.

Tim Bradford leaned against the side of the briefing table, a half-full cup of station coffee in hand—more obligation than enjoyment. He was scanning the call board, mentally mapping the day's rotation, when a familiar presence appeared beside him.

Rachel.

Not unusual. What was unusual was what she held in her hand. Not coffee. Not a protein bar or granola or anything tactical. It was a small white paper bag, the kind used at boutique bakeries or farmers markets.

She didn’t say anything at first—just offered it to him like it wasn’t a big deal. But she was watching him, carefully. Tim raised a brow and took it. He opened the bag, glanced inside—then blinked, surprised.

“Cinnamon raisin scone?” he said, looking at her.

Rachel shrugged, casually. “You mentioned it. Once. That place you liked in Silver Lake, right? Said they stopped carrying them.”

Tim looked down at the pastry again.

He remembered the conversation. It hadn’t been about food—it had been about old habits, years ago, maybe a late shift or a long drive, and he’d mentioned missing that one particular thing.

He hadn’t expected anyone to remember. Especially not her.

“You tracked it down?”

She gave a faint nod. “There’s a new place near me. Bakes fresh. Figured it was close enough to the original.”

Tim stared at her.

She met his gaze, expression neutral but not cold. Understated. Present. “If it’s terrible, you can lie,” she added dryly. “But I won’t believe you.”

Tim smiled. For real. “Thanks,” he said, voice quieter now. “Seriously.”

Rachel didn’t respond with words. Rachel was already turning toward the chairs near the back, settling into her usual spot. But something in the air was different. Looser. Not open. Not vulnerable. But unlocked.

Tim watched her for a beat too long before catching himself and following. He sat down beside her, same posture, same rhythm as always. But this time— He didn’t need to fill the silence.

And Rachel? She didn’t guard it like a shield. She let it just be. And for Tim? It wasn’t the coffee that caught him off balance. It was her. Making the first move. No wall. No ask. Just a gesture. A choice.

And he felt it settle deep in his chest.

Quiet.

But certain.

She was starting to reach.

And he’d be there to meet her—every time.

Wednesday – 10:42 A.M. – East Hollywood, Multi-Unit Building – 911 Call: Suspicious Person, Possible Burglary

The call had come through fast—a tenant reported someone trying to access an apartment that wasn’t theirs. No known weapons. No reported screams. But the unease was clear in the dispatcher’s voice.

Rachel and Tim were first on scene, cruiser parked cleanly out front. Rachel stepped out, checking the building’s layout as she adjusted her vest. Her eyes scanned the rows of doors, the line of balconies, the second-floor walkway.

“Northwest stairwell gives them easiest exit if they’re spooked,” she said, already moving.

Tim nodded. “You want interior or perimeter?”

Rachel didn’t hesitate. “Interior. You sweep the lot, watch for run.”

He didn’t question it. “On it.”

They split.

Tim circled around to the far side of the complex, radio clipped to his shoulder. He trusted her inside. Knew her judgment. Knew her presence was sharp and steady now—nothing reactive, nothing forced.

Rachel moved into the stairwell with calm control, nodding to a neighbor who peeked out of their door. “LAPD,” she said clearly. “Stay inside, please.”

Second floor. Unit 2B.

She approached the door—soft footsteps, low breathing, hand resting gently near her holster. She listened. No movement inside. But the lock was scratched, and the frame slightly splintered.

Rachel knocked once, firm. “LAPD. If you’re inside, make yourself known.”

A pause. Then—scuffing. Movement. She didn’t wait for confirmation. “Possible 459,” she said into the radio. “Making entry.”

Tim’s voice came back immediately. “Copy. I’ve got eyes on rear stairs. No movement yet.”

She stepped back, drew her weapon—not rushed. Smooth. Then kicked the door. It opened. The suspect bolted from the bedroom. Rachel reacted in one clean motion—side-stepping, controlling the space, voice sharp.

“Police! Hands—!”

The suspect froze. Not because of the gun. Because of her voice. She held position, weapon steady, until backup arrived from the next cruiser over. Then she stepped back, breathing steady, lowered her arm with practiced ease.

Downstairs, Tim spotted movement—another man cutting through the lot toward a back gate.

Rachel’s voice came over the radio. “One suspect detained. There’s a second.”

“Already on it,” Tim said. “Engaging.”

The second suspect didn’t get far.

Later – 11:27 A.M. – On Scene, Briefing with Grey

Sergeant Grey arrived ten minutes after both suspects were in cuffs. He walked the scene calmly, talking to witnesses, checking reports. He found Rachel and Tim near the cruiser, filling out incident logs. He didn’t say much. Didn’t need to.

But after glancing over the scene—and the two suspects now seated on the curb—he looked at Rachel and said, simply: “You led that clean.”

Rachel, who had just capped her pen, blinked once. “Thank you, sir.”

Grey’s eyes moved between her and Tim, something measuring in his gaze. “I remember when you first got here,” he said. “Didn’t think we’d ever get this version of you again.”

Rachel didn’t respond. But something in her posture eased. Tim just glanced sideways at her—then back to Grey. Grey gave a short nod, then turned to head back to his vehicle. Tim finished his note, handed Rachel the clipboard. She took it with a faint, quiet smile. And he knew without asking: She’d felt that, too.

Wednesday – 5:58 P.M. – Mid-Wilshire Division, Rear Lot

The sun had started to slide toward the horizon, turning the edges of buildings gold. The air was warm, tinged with the fading scent of asphalt and distant street food from the corner stand.

Tim walked across the lot toward his truck, radio finally clipped off, vest slung over one shoulder. He ran a hand through his hair and checked his phone briefly—one new text, nothing urgent.

Behind him, he heard footsteps. Not rushed. Not heavy. He glanced back. Rachel. Changed out of uniform, now in jeans and a soft green top, hair down, wind catching a few strands across her face.

She was walking straight toward him with purpose, but not urgency.

He stopped by the truck, leaning his forearm on the door.

She stopped beside him, not saying anything at first. Just standing in that quiet way she had—always composed, even when she wasn’t.

Then, casually: “I was thinking of picking up something quick for dinner.”

He arched a brow, waiting.

Rachel added, tone even, deliberate, but softer than usual: “There’s a place not far from here. You ever had Lucky’s?”

Tim blinked. “The Thai place with the chili basil tofu that’ll ruin your mouth for hours?”

“That’s the one.”

He tilted his head. “You offering or recommending?”

Rachel looked up at him. “I’m offering.”

Beat.

Tim gave a slow, amused nod. “All right. I’m in.”

She turned slightly toward her car, then paused and glanced back. “I was just going to eat and go home,” she added. “Nothing formal. No pressure.”

“Didn’t think there was.”

A faint smile tugged at her mouth—barely there, but real. “I’ll meet you there in fifteen?”

“I’ll follow,” Tim said. “Easier parking.”

Rachel gave a nod, turned, and walked back toward her car, keys already in hand.

Tim stood there for a second longer than necessary. Because she’d invited him. Not out of gratitude. Not out of grief. Just because she wanted to. And that? That mattered more than anything she could’ve said all day.

Wednesday – 6:23 P.M. – Lucky’s Thai Kitchen, Side Table Near the Window

She looked up and offered a faint, quiet smirk.

“Took you long enough.”

“There was a sedan parked diagonally across three spaces. I needed a minute to process the injustice.”

“Hope you filed a report.”

He shrugged. “Still debating the paperwork.”

Rachel’s eyes flicked toward the window, her smirk deepening.

Tim grabbed a menu, though he didn’t really look at it.

“So you do this often?” he asked. “Dinner after shift?”

“Used to,” she said. “Not lately.”

He caught the subtle shift—how “not lately” carried more weight than she let on.

But she didn’t dwell on it.

Neither did he.

“Let me guess,” he said, glancing at her menu. “You’re a spice-level-four, tofu, extra basil kind of woman.”

Rachel lifted a brow. “Only four? What kind of coward do you take me for?”

Tim chuckled. “Apologies. Spice-level five.”

“Better.”

The server approached, scribbled their orders—Rachel did go level five—and left with a polite nod.

Their drinks came quickly. Water for her. Thai iced tea for him.

She raised a brow when she saw it.

“Didn’t have you pegged as a sweet drink guy.”

Tim sipped it, unapologetic. “There’s a time and place.”

“Yeah? And what time is this?”

He glanced around the restaurant. “Whatever time pairs best with slow-burning mouthfire and fermented fish sauce.”

Rachel huffed a quiet laugh, genuinely caught off guard.

And it lingered.

He liked that sound.

When the server appeared, Rachel ordered just as he predicted—level five heat, no rice. Tim followed with curry and jasmine rice, casually adding, “Extra heat, too. Might as well suffer with some dignity.”

Rachel gave him a small look. “Didn’t peg you as a masochist.”

“I balance it out with dessert. And the fact that I can actually cook.”

She looked up. “You cook?”

“Yeah.”

He didn’t say it like he was bragging.

Just stating a fact.

“Thought you just lived on protein bars and black coffee.”

“Only when I don’t trust the kitchen. Or the people in it.”

That earned a soft laugh from her. “What’s your thing?”

“Comfort food, mostly,” he said. “Pasta. Roasted vegetables. Big fan of searing things in cast iron.”

Rachel leaned back slightly, a brow raised. “You’re full of surprises.”

“I’m a man of many talents.”

“Modest, too.”

“Don’t let the badge fool you.”

The drinks arrived. Tim picked up his Thai iced tea, sipped once, and set it down just as the spice hit his throat.

Rachel smirked. “That’s gonna betray you in about twenty minutes.”

He shrugged. “Worth it.”

They kept talking. Small things. Favorite foods. Rachel admitted to hating mushrooms with a passion. Tim confessed to liking pineapple on pizza just to start fights.

Their banter grew looser, their silences comfortable.

And when the food arrived—hot, fragrant, bright with color—it became the first meal they’d shared off the clock where the weight of the world wasn’t pressing between them.

Only space.

Only possibility.

Rachel leaned her arms on the table slightly, more relaxed now.

“There was a time when I had hobbies,” she admitted. “Music, museums. I liked stillness.”

“And now?”

“I’m trying to find the version of myself that didn’t vanish when the sirens stopped.”

He didn’t speak.

Just looked at her—eyes warm, steady.

“Then let’s find her,” he said.

Not a promise.

Not a push.

Just the simple offer of space.

Wednesday – 7:14 P.M. – Lucky’s Thai Kitchen, Same Table, Dishes Pushed Aside

The plates were mostly empty—only streaks of curry sauce and half a mound of jasmine rice left behind. Rachel had long since abandoned her chopsticks, opting to drag a spoon through the remaining sauce as they talked.

Neither one of them made a move for the check.

Outside, the sun had disappeared completely, and the windows reflected more of the restaurant than the street. Inside, the lighting was soft—just enough to cast a glow on the small table between them.

Rachel leaned back against the booth, arms folded loosely, one leg tucked under the other. She looked across at Tim, who was sitting more relaxed now too, nursing the last of his Thai iced tea.

“I’m not sure what surprises me more,” she said, “that you willingly drank that entire syrup bomb, or that you apparently roast vegetables like a pro.”

Tim shrugged, the corners of his mouth tugging upward. “They’re related, actually. If you’re gonna go hard on sugar, you need balance somewhere.”

“You strike me as someone who plans their cheat days like battle tactics.”

“Only when I’m not on shift.” He paused. “Which is… never.”

Rachel smiled faintly at that, eyes drifting briefly toward the restaurant’s kitchen, as if considering what else the night might hold. Then, after a beat: “I used to paint while music played. Loud. Windows open, headphones off.”

Tim’s gaze sharpened a little—not intense, just focused. “Let me guess. Not classical.”

“God, no. Moody alternative stuff. Indie folk. The occasional scream track if the mood hit.”

He laughed. “That tracks.”

Rachel tilted her head. “And you? Let me guess—Springsteen when you clean, silence when you cook.”

“Wrong. I like background noise. Old jazz. Instrumentals. Sometimes podcasts.”

She blinked. “Bradford listens to podcasts?”

“Crime history. War stories. One about cults.”

She gave him a long look. “Of course you listen to cult documentaries.”

Tim smirked. “I’m full of texture.”

Rachel chuckled—a real one this time. Soft, slightly tired, but genuine.

A moment passed. The server came by, asked if they wanted dessert or the check. Tim looked to Rachel.

She didn’t answer immediately. Just glanced down at her hands, then back at him. Her voice was quieter now. Not vulnerable, exactly—but bare.

“You ever have nights like this where you don’t want the quiet to come back too soon?”

Tim’s expression shifted. Not dramatic. Just still. “Yeah,” he said. “I do.”

She nodded once, slowly. “I used to be good at being alone. Needed it, even.”

“And now?”

Rachel looked down at the table. “I don’t know,” she said. “Something about tonight… I guess I forgot what it felt like to just be.”

Tim leaned forward slightly, forearms resting on the edge of the table. “You don’t have to go back to the quiet just yet,” he said. “We’ve got time.”

She met his eyes. And for a second, it felt like the rest of the room faded. The sound of clinking forks, the buzz of conversation around them—it all blurred.

She wasn’t smiling. But her face was open. Steady. Grateful. “Okay,” she said.

And they stayed. Not talking constantly. Not filling every gap. Just there. Together. Because sometimes the hardest part isn’t surviving the storm— It’s letting someone sit with you in the calm.

Tag List: @immastealurkneecaps, @maybefanficting, @kmc1989, @fuckingsimp4azriel

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[whatifyoulivelikethat]

twelve hours, m | jjk | ... and now

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: You have twelve hours to make Jeon Jungkook fall in love with you. He's about to get married. You're the entertainment at his bachelor party - a burlesque dancer. Long ago, he used to be the class representative and you used to be the class delinquent. Nothing has changed and, yet, everything has.

this is part ii | click here for part i | total wc: 23k

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; this story contains parental child abuse and graphic violence, including the reader becoming physically scarred and having panic attacks; rich, this bachelor party is on a fuckin' YACHT, the best man is LOADED; JK and reader interacted in high school; angst and fluff and feels; cheating; this is mostly smut XD; (in part i) high school smut + intense adult smut (fem reader, striptease, semi-public sex at school, nipple play (he's a bit obsessed with them), dry humping, m-masturbation, handjob, cumming on tits (and diamonds), cum-eating, mirror kink, spitting, tit fucking, m-receiving oral, scratching / biting / marking, penetrative sex, doggy); shifts back and forth between Jungkook’s POV and your POV

non-idol!AU; film director!Jungkook x wealthy, burlesque dancer!reader — ft best man, art trader!Kim Taehyung; dancer's bodyguard!Kim Namjoon and bodyguard!Kim Seokjin

> eyebrow pierced, tattooed, and long black-haired JK (with undercut) in a black suit because that's what we need in this life > look for TXT's 'you and me and the sky at 5:53' :)

--

time left: 06:49

No.

Don’t leave me.

It was the same then as it was now.

Jungkook reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her back to him. Her eyes widened, pivoting quickly on her toe, snapping her heel down and cutting the turn short, black skirt flaring out. The swift glimpse of her legs in the high slit, the gentle bounce of her breasts in the slinky fabric. Her manicured hair bounced, dyed blue-black and giving her skin a surreal quality.

He held on.

Please don’t disappear.

“What?”

Her brows knitted together. She didn’t pull her arm away, but she was steadfast in her posture, not letting him push her around. Not that he ever could.

“He asked me to escort you back,” Jungkook found himself saying. “If not for your sake, then for his peace of mind. I don’t want to be a liar.”

Her features softened.

His fingers around her arm, touching that soft skin once more.

I care. I care a lot.

Jungkook realized that, in a way, he had never moved past those classrooms, those touches, those kisses, those moments.

“You can let go now.”

She said it patiently. Always patient with him despite his overzealous and sometimes clumsy antics, putting up with it even when she didn’t have to. He looked into those eyes and found those walls were falling away, little by little. Winged liner, red lipstick, it didn’t matter, it was the same expression, defiant eyes and hint of a scowl on those lips. Ready to fight, but not him.

She was always a fighter and the opponent was always life itself.

“I don’t want to let go.”

He didn’t expect himself to say the truth, but he did.

She smirked, reaching up, her fingers covering his tattoos for a moment, placing them on the back of his hand. This warmth. This feeling. It was not the same as the rest, and he knew that now.

“Hm, well, you must realize this looks a bit awkward. You wouldn’t want to give anyone the wrong impression, would you?”

Wouldn't want someone to see you talking to me, right?

“You will let me escort you?” he insisted.

She pried his hand from her arm and lowered it, turning the other way.

“You are welcome to do as you like. I won’t stop you, golden boy.”

-

time left: 06:41

He followed you, surrounded by moonlight reflecting off water.

It streamed through the windows, lighting the red carpeted hall along with the dim sconces. You found yourself stepping in each lighted square, avoiding the thin dark beams of the windows, a little game for yourself, like how children avoided the cracks in the concrete sidewalks, except you were on a lavish yacht wearing Louboutins with a handsome man in step behind you.

It was quiet and yet it wasn’t. Small sounds, footsteps, distant muffles of talking through the walls, the faint sound of bass as you walked away from the party, the sound of the ocean ever present, your own breathing.

Jungkook’s breathing.

Familiar.

Once yours.

You looked to your right, to the window, seeing his reflection. His profile, hands in his pockets, tattooed arm standing out against the black background of his clothes, dressed formally but always a bit sheepish about it, as if he wasn’t sure if it looked good on him, but it always did, even the school uniform. He still had the youthfulness about him, even as a man.

Your eyes found his and he was watching your face in the glass of the window.

You stopped abruptly, pivoting on one heel to face him.

Impulse.

Your younger self would have bristled, glaring, accusing the eyes and snapping, what are you looking at?

Jungkook started, realizing you had noticed, and tripped, his black hair suddenly disturbed and tumbling over his eyes as he struggled to catch himself, hands flying out of his pockets.

You caught one, lacing your fingers with his, and gripped tightly, yanking up.

He righted himself, gasping. Looking up, bent over and long legs awkward, somewhat like a fawn trying to get on its legs for the first time. Those big brown eyes, parted pink lips. Familiar.

Your joined hands fell exactly where the window beam was, shrouded in shadow.

“Something on your mind?” you chuckled, shaking your head.

He straightened. You loosened your grip on his hand, but he held on. You frowned slightly, raising your brows.

He swallowed hard.

“Can I hold your hand? Please.”

Back then, you would hold his hand, hiding behind corners and dashing past, holding your breath, light steps, leaping from shadow to shadow, bodies close, breath mixing. Showing him all the secrets of the school that you had found while wandering, a fun little game with a reward at the end, school uniform being shed, skin to skin, his body against yours, his heartbeat in time with yours, his lips on yours.

You shrugged and turned back around, his hand tightly around yours.

-

time left: 06:35

Jungkook held her hand.

In an instant, he looked down, staring at their joined hands.

This was different.

And then he saw them.

Scars, all over the back of her hand. He could feel the scar tissue on her palms too, lines on her fingers even though she was holding him loosely. He had memorized every centimeter of her beautiful hands from back then, and these lines were not here before. These were not scars from living life. These had been cuts, healed now, unseen from far away and even up close. Perhaps they had been filled in with tattoo ink in a color to match her skin tone so they were less noticeable.

No one would know unless they were holding her hand or looking for it.

Without knowing it, Jungkook clutched her hand tighter, a sudden ache in his chest.

He had found bruises on her sometimes.

I fell down the stairs. It's nothing.

He had found welts.

Stupid fight with some dumbass.

He had found a criss-cross pattern of cuts on her leg.

I tried to jump over a fence and fucked up.

He glanced at her other hand loosely by her side. The same. He could even see her palm and there were many, many lines, all over her palm, healed cuts. Drugs? But he knew it wasn’t. Not because he had a romanticized idea of who she would be in his head, but because that was the nice answer.

That was the reasonable answer.

“Oh!”

“Excuse me, miss.”

His eyes flickered upward to see a young woman in a short midnight blue dress pausing, looking from her to him, cheeks flushed, not being subtle about it. The glittery fabric picked up the moonlight, accenting her curves and long legs. Pretty.

But not sensual.

Not immaculate.

Not teasing and sculptural.

The grip on his hand tightened so much that he inhaled sharply, fingers nearly crushed by her hold.

“Have a nice evening,” the woman in black purred, edge of ice indicating the stranger to move along, or, more accurately, fuck right off.

Jungkook knew he shouldn’t, and yet.

His heart skipped two beats as she dragged him along.

He had no problem looking away from the other woman and fixate on the back of that neatly pinned, blue-black hair, graceful shoulders, corseted waist, swaying hips.

And her hand in his, not letting go.

-

time left: 06:22

“This is it.”

You turned to see Jungkook looking around, mouth open, gawking at the entrance of the intricately carved wooden door. It was one of the grander, first-class rooms. The red doors were much farther apart and the sconces here were glided with glass-blown lampshades, casting swirls of orange across the white walls, dimmed now from the late night.

“It was nice to see you again.”

It was, even with the bitter taste in your mouth that seemed to linger.

His eyes came back to you, dark brown and clear, focused on only your face, long black strands framing his cheeks, the small mole underneath his lower lip trembling.

“I hope you have your happiness now, Jungkook.”

You did.

You felt a strange, unmovable pressure on your chest. The time wasn’t up yet. You could still try. You could keep your hold on his hand and drag him into the room and hold him close to you, skin to skin, lips on his, and show him all you’ve learned. You could. You could see it in those eyes. He would follow you now, maybe because of the alcohol, maybe for old times sake, maybe out of impulse and bad choices.

You let go.

You let go, because you didn’t want to be a bad choice.

Not to him, Jeon Jungkook.

“You were my small happiness, back then,” you said softly, feeling yourself smile.

It was better not to have regrets. At the time, even you didn’t know how important he had been. The thought of being withdrawn from that school and not being able to see him again made you fight back for once, and it ended in the very thing you didn’t want. It fucked up your hands, it fucked up your life, but somehow you found yourself here now, in expensive clothes on an expensive boat with expensive tastes, able to make a choice between selfishness or selflessness.

Maybe you hadn’t changed much after all, since you found yourself choosing the latter.

You turned away and pulled your hand out of his.

Or would have, if Jungkook hadn’t grasped your hand tighter, yanking you back and shoving you against the door of your suite. Your hand automatically raised to push him back, but he put his whole weight on your body, sandwiching you between the door and himself, making you gasp, trapped between dead timber and muscular hardness.

Now his face was in your face, breathing hard, dark brown orbs shaking and shining with wetness.

You froze, lips parting.

“You were my happiness too.”

He was panting, warm exhale on your lips.

“Not a small happiness. The happiness.”

He squeezed your hand like you were going to disappear.

“I didn’t know then, but I do now,” Jungkook shuddered, towering over you even in your heels. He stared into your eyes. “Your smile.”

You blinked slowly, confused.

“Your smile. I’ve never seen it reach your eyes.”

Heart racing, suddenly breathless.

“Except when you thought I couldn’t see, like when my back was turned or my face was turned away from you,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against yours, long black hair curtaining your faces, sending you back to the shadows. “I saw it though, in reflections. In windows. In mirrors. In those beakers in the science room.”

Was that so? Had that been you? You made it a point not to smile back then, because there had been nothing to smile about. But maybe… maybe when eyes weren’t on you, maybe when you yourself didn’t notice, but, somehow, Jungkook had noticed.

You realized that your introspection had diverted your attention from him, so you made eye contact again, airless at his closeness. Your eyes and his, lost in sweet dreams.

“I want to kiss you.”

He tilted his head and hesitated.

“I want to kiss you all the time,” he said to your lips.

His expression was clouded with shame. It was ugly. It made his handsome features ugly and you didn’t like that. You wanted to make it go away. You closed more distance, fingers pressing down on the back of his hand, your other hand raising and resting on his hip, lashes lowering.

“Then kiss me,” you said to his lips.

-

time left: 06:13

Jungkook kissed her.

From then and now, it was the same.

Euphoria.

But this time, it wasn’t clumsy with colliding teeth and too much tongue that did nothing, sloppy with no purpose. This time, his lips were soft at first and so were hers, breathing in each other’s scent. She smelled warm and musky, like blackberry and evergreens, expensive and lush, but somehow still her, still that girl from back then, comforting and intense, sometimes with the hint of metallic blood, but that never bothered him. Her hand on his hip, stroking it under the layers of fabric, making him shiver, caressing the back of his hand with her fingertips, delicate sigh in his mouth.

The faintest flicker of tongue on the edge of her upper lip, swiping down into his open mouth.

He moaned, feeling the strong wet muscle thrust into his lips, coaxing his tongue, teasing, pressing her body to his, breasts against his chest, their deep open necklines exchanging heat in the air between their skin but not quite touching, and he found himself letting go of her hand, reaching up to grab her breasts.

Her fingers closed around his wrists, forcing him to stop.

He gasped in her mouth, eyes opening.

“They’re not stress balls, Jungkook,” she snickered.

He was breathing hard, ribcage shuddering, heartbeat thundering in his ears, getting louder as he realized her red lipstick was a little messed up, feeling the stickiness on his own lips.

“You need to slow down. You can’t just grope me out in the open.”

His impatience spoke for him.

“Why not?”

His voice was low, octave deepened from lust.

Her lips curved into an amused smirk. “Oh? You have changed. You used to be so worried about someone seeing us. If anything, you should be more worried now, considering your beloved.”

“She’s not my beloved.”

She was still holding his wrists, but her head tilted, watching his eyes carefully. He sucked in a shuddering breath, feeling the guilt.

“We… we thought it would be a good idea. Because our friends told us we look nice together. It would help her career. I wouldn’t have to invest too much into it.”

He felt ashamed, but he didn’t look away because he didn’t want her to think he was lying.

“I never found a smile like yours. I accepted that I never would.”

Her eyes darkened.

“It’s dangerous, Jungkook. Ill-advised.”

He smiled and he didn’t know if it reached his eyes because his vision was blurry.

But he knew it wasn’t a lie.

“You always were. I should have chased you to the ends of the earth, even if you were only a ghost.”

He lifted his hands, hers with his, and cupped her face, running his fingertips over her cheeks, smooth and soft skin, transported back to that moment in the abandoned literature club room, her face cast in an orange glow, actually swirls from glass-blown sconces, but the past and present connected, turning it into rays from the setting sun that lit up her features, and he said what he had said then, because it was the truth.

“You’re really pretty.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“You are.”

He leaned forward and kissed the side of her lips gently.

She chuckled.

“You really are something, Jeon Jungkook.”

Her hands let go and she reached into the deep neckline of her dress, plucking something from the corset. His eyes widened as she pulled out the key card from between her breasts, smirk dancing on her lips. She winked at him.

“A lady has many hiding places.”

She flicked her wrist and inserted it into the door, unlocking it without looking.

The door opened and they stepped into her room.

-

time left: 06:02

“Hnnnnnnngh…”

“Dude can snore.”

“Help me turn him to his side. Don’t want him to vomit in his mouth and asphyxiate,” Kim Namjoon grunted, helped by Kim Seokjin, jerking Kim Taehyung’s body to the side. They backed up and Taehyung immediately flopped to his back, snoring away.

Seokjin thinned his mouth into a line. “Seriously?”

“Ah, here, let’s roll up the towels and use them to prop him up.”

“He’s not as cute as she is.”

“Well, she also doesn’t get piss drunk... ever.”

“Still a better cuddle buddy. Comes with built-in pillows.”

Namjoon blinked at Seokjin and shook his head, letting the odd comment slide. They managed to jam the bath towels next to Taehyung and force him to lay on his side, placing a pillow in his arms that he immediately hugged, squeezing it tightly. The snoring lessened as well.

“Guess we should go back,” Namjoon sighed, rubbing the back of his short hair.

Seokjin scoffed. “No, we shouldn’t. They’re probably all over each other as we speak.”

Namjoon frowned, raised an eyebrow at the other man. “Really? I don’t know. She seemed very hesitant about it. She said she didn’t love him.”

Seokjin snorted, somehow still elegant with his handsome face. “You really believe that?”

“That’s what she said.”

Seokjin rolled his eyes. “That’s what everybody says when they don’t want to admit they’re in love with someone.”

“That’s also what people say when they are, factually, not in love with someone.”

The black-haired man raised his hands and held up his index fingers, wriggling them in the air and bending them ninety-degrees, squiggling them around each other and poking the tips together repeatedly. Namjoon blinked at him.

“What are you doing?”

Seokjin rolled his eyes as if it was despairingly obvious what he was doing. “A visual representation of what they’re doing right now.”

Namjoon contorted his face in confusion, raising an eyebrow.

“… Becoming worms…?”

Seokjin groaned. “Having sex, Namjoon.”

“… How is that…?”

-

time left: 05:53

The door to his dreams unsealed and they tumbled inside.

The orange glow of the hallway lights spilled into the room, bleeding into the cool glow that came from the open windows, curtains pulled back to reveal the shimmering sea and bright moon, a contrast of artificial dusk and true nightfall. She pulled him in by his belt, hooking two fingers under the leather, step by sweeping step, grace that made him breathless, orange and silver and shadow, all mixing together, and then the door closed and then the sea and the moon replaced the sunset dreams.

It was a heavy thunk, closing with finality.

The room had many ornate mirrors in it to make the room seem bigger. The had gold vintage frames of different shapes and sizes, reflecting the contents of the room, the large bed and red silk sheets, the black leather chairs and black marble table bolted down to the floor, the matching marble vanity laid out with several black leather cosmetic bags, all zipped up neatly. The had small details on them – red zippers, silver locks, the designer logo engraved into the leather. The suitcases leaning against the wall matched the cosmetic bags, three of them, one larger than the first two.

Jungkook breathed her name, raising his hand, fingers spread.

Her fingertips touched his, halting him.

“Let me do it.”

He spied his expression in one of the mirrors.

The silver moonlight lit up his face and his eyes, reflecting the lust and trust in them.

He looked back to her and nodded.

“Okay.”

Glamour. Fantasy. Descent.

That was the only way he could describe the way she moved, glamour in the way her hand slowly retreated from his, a steady wave and sweep, clearly deliberate. Even in smeared lipstick, the small smirk was present on those lips, stepping around him with a swing of her hips and gentle clicks of her black patent leather heels, the slinky fabric flowing with her actions and also clinging to her body at the same time, using the arc of her stride to spread open the high slit. Letting him watch. He almost turned to follow but she placed a few fingers on his arm, purring softly.

“Don’t move.”

Fantasy, the way she slipped behind him like a shadow, and then Jungkook had to look up into the mirrors, catching glimpses of her behind him. There was no music, but she moved as if there was. If anything, the sound of the waves seemed to form its own music, and he was suddenly more aware of it, the splashes against the hull of the boat mixing with the bass of his heartbeat and the wispiness of her breath, stepping up behind him, body heat making him gasp, looking into a mirror to his left, a window illuminating his right, her hands slipping between the space of his ribs and upper arms, fingers spread like wings, warm exhale on his neck.

No words.

Just a simple kiss to the base of his head and her lips murmuring his name on his skin.

Descent.

One by one, teasing the buttons apart, her fingers ghosting the exposed skin, his heart racing as he watched those hands, peeling apart the button placket, unwrapping him like a decadent sweet. He watched his own expression framed by long curls of black, his teeth sinking into his lower lip, small mole below quivering, seeing more and more of his chest being exposed, somewhat self-conscious, but there was something spellbinding about only being able to see her hands and forearms, pointed black nails decorated with crystals that caught the light, undoing all the buttons until she reached his pants.

“I can–”

“Shh. Don’t let your impatience prevent you from enjoying your own striptease.”

His cheeks heated a little and he lowered his hands, breath hiking as she firmly gripped the bottom of his shirt and pulled it out. Jungkook took a step back, his back hitting her chest, and gasped again, feeling the softness, but she adjusted her position so her body wasn’t touching his anymore, chiding him playfully.

“Never had someone take off your clothes, Jungkook?” she chuckled against his neck, making his hairs stand on end.

“Ah, well…”

He watched those deft fingers undo the last two buttons. Then they spread apart his black shirt, reaching in, fingertips spreading out over his abs and pecs, tracing the contours of his muscles, switching between her nails and the pads of her fingertips, prickling and dainty. He couldn’t sure her face, but he saw his, and only now registered his own moans, so absorbed by her sensual movement and her touch that he didn’t even realize the embarrassing sounds falling from his lips.

“Not… since you…”

She snickered. “Seriously? What fool wouldn’t want to tear the clothes off this lovely body?”

He could feel and see his flush in the mirror. He looked away quickly, down to her hands exploring his body. “Well, I just… figured it’s easier if I do it. No one has ever been like you.”

“Hmm.”

His hands raised. He traced her knuckles, causing her to pause, caressing small circles on his sternum.

“You want to tear the clothes off my body?” he breathed, not daring to see his own reflection and know his reaction to whatever her answer was.

“I do.”

He placed his left hand on hers, heart beating faster and faster.

“Not tonight though.”

He pulled her palm away from his racing heart, not wanting her to know her effect on him, letting it linger beside his ribcage.

“Tonight, I will show you all I’ve learned, because I was always a better student than you, class representative.”

He found himself laughing a little, suddenly sheepish. “Yeah. Your name was always in the top five percent. I was pretty bad at school. I don’t know why everyone voted for–oooh…”

Her fingers touched his nipples, rubbing delicately, sending strange shivers all over him, shallowing his breath, making him look up and see his dark nipples being teased by expert hands. Her nails nicked them lightly and he whined in his throat, feeling them harden against her fingertips, surprised at the arousal from the simple touch, something he never paid attention to or cared about. His hair was covering part of his face.

Jungkook reached up and pushed his hair back, pressing his chest into those hands.

Saw one of her eyes behind his head, sharp and sultry with winged liner, twinkling as she watched him.

“I voted for you because I thought it would be funny since you weren’t even trying.”

He didn’t really have a response for that, too busy looking at his own face and body, shivering as she tweaked his nipples and pushed them in slow circles, his arms descending to lower the shadows, letting them suspend by his sides.

She shifted beside him and half of her lips appeared, on the toes of her heels, whispering close to his ear, seductive and dark.

“You were good-looking then, and you’re even more handsome now, Jungkook.”

The sound of the ocean, the silver moonlight shining off her blue-black hair giving her skin a surreal quality, almost doll-like, the mirror reflecting his expression, desire and anticipation.

She removed her hands and grabbed the collar of his shirt, yanking it down.

He inhaled sharply and her face disappeared.

Dress shirt stripped from his body and flung away, the crisp black fabric flaring out, a shadow cast aside.

Jungkook spun around.

-

Does this man know the meaning of calm the fuck down?

You rolled your eyes inwardly as you witnessed Jungkook turn around, facing you again even though you told him not to the move. He had always been like this, overzealous, but he didn’t seem as clumsy as before, although…

He grabbed your tits.

Hah.

He blinked rapidly, surprised. “Huh?”

You shook your head and knocked his hands away, sighing. “Pasties, Jungkook. To cover my nipples.”

You reached into your dress and scooped your breasts out, trapping them between the v-neckline. His eyes bulged slightly when he saw the smooth black satin circles flush to the apex of your breasts. They fit perfectly, seamless so they were unseen even under the slinky fabric of the black gown.

“W-Whoa…”

“What? I’m a burlesque dancer. Of course, I have fancy nipple covers. This is basic wardrobe.”

He tilted his head. “I’ve never seen any like these. They look like they’re part of your body.”

You tutted. “Obviously, they aren’t. You know I have nipples.”

And you reached up and peeled them off, flinging them aside carelessly.

Jungkook gasped, staring at your nipples with wide eyes.

“Don’t act like you haven’t seen nipples,” you scowled. “You better not be a virgin with how hot you’ve become.”

His hands shot up and you grabbed his wrists again, forcing them back down.

Jungkook whined, eyes shifting back up to you, begging to touch them.

You stiffened slightly. What kind of reaction was that?

“They’re so big,” he whispered huskily, visibly shuddering, shaking with the craving to touch them. “I remember they were soft. And…” His breathing hitched, trembling in your hands. “I remember they tasted so good. Amazing. No one has ever tasted as good as you.”

His eyes flickered back down, biting his lip. He tried to break free, but you held. A single glance exchanged and you let go, realizing he was going to do something other than attack them. Instead, he collected the straps of your dress and pulled them back up, slowly, moaning as the slinky black fabric skimmed over your breasts, your prominent nipples sticking out, hardening from the light friction.

“Fuck, that’s so fucking sexy.”

Well, maybe he did have some appreciation for the visual after all.

“You see why I need the pasties.”

He pulled the straps up, whimpering as he watched your nipples strain against your dress, lifting your breasts in the confines of the fabric and lowering them, lifting, lowering, repeating the gesture.

You raised an eyebrow.

“Jungkook… are you bouncing my tits on purpose?”

His dark brown orbs darted to you. Guilty.

“Um… y-you won’t let me touch them…”

You weren’t sure whether to sigh or to laugh. You just shook your head, backing up out of his grasp. His hands were still outstretched, lips forming a small pout. You almost regretted it, but his expression quickly changed as you casually flicked down the straps, freeing your breasts again, dropping his hands and linking them together under his waist, waiting, now invested in what you had in store.

Oh.

He chewed on his lip and gave you an expectant look.

A flutter in your chest.

The side of your lips curved upward, tongue sliding out to graze the edge of your upper lip before disappearing.

You reached back, leisurely undoing the fastenings of the corset, sweeping your legs so the high slit flared apart, turning around, letting him witness the slow undress. Every action was deliberate, the wide arc of your leg moving the skirt aside to prevent you from tripping as you turned without using your hands, the wide stance of your feet to relieve pressure on your heels and to prevent the dress from sliding down too soon, and even the position of your fingers, poised so you could run a nail down your spine as two of them pinched the hook-and-eye and separated them, traveling down to the top of your ass. Every movement was thought out, details that made up the bigger picture, constructing your ultimate goal.

A sensual striptease.

You caught his reaction in a mirror to your right.

His sparkling brown eyes were wide, jaw dropped.

A lot of people had seen you take off your clothes, but no one made you feel as satisfied as Jeon Jungkook, then in his school uniform and now shirtless in his slacks, hands twisting in front of his crotch.

Then you saw your face.

You were smiling.

You really did smile when you thought he wasn’t looking.

Another glimpse at his face and you found him staring at you, silver moonlight glinting off his eyebrow piercing and flooding into his eyes, bringing out the stars within.

You released your hand and your dress tumbled to the ground.

He sucked in a shuddering breath, your name drifting from his lips.

“H… Holy shit…”

You did have an amazing waist-to-ass ratio.

Proper corset training and specific hit workouts to perfect your craft contributed. You couldn’t simply be pretty. You had to be strong and flexible to do the stunts and to walk in your red bottoms for the entire performance. Christian Louboutin didn’t make his shoes to be comfy. He made heels to make feet look enticing and sexy.

The price to pay for glamour and vanity.

It did give you some powerful calves though.

You lifted one shoe, flashing that blazingly red sole of your heel, balancing on one leg for a second.

This was to prevent you from getting tangled on your now fallen dress. You tightened your core, shifting your weight, knowing it would give Jungkook an irresistible view of your plump derriere in your high French-cut black satin panties, the particular style adding illusion to the already stark proportion.

In short, your ass looked fucking fabulous.

You stepped out of your dress, one leg, then the other, taking care not to step on it, adding a little flourish of your hands to create those body lines, ever the performer. You glanced at the mirror and was pleased to find Jungkook hadn’t moved, although his hands were now firmly open, palms down on his crotch, whimpering in his throat.

“Soon,” you promised, and you would keep it.

He nodded, swallowing hard.

You turned your fingers inward, hooking each index finger on the sides of your panties, rocking your hips slowly, lowering your lashes, following the beat of the sea, tugging down the right side a few centimeters and then the left, listening to his breathing and controlling yours. You bent over slowly at the hips, sticking your ass out, listening to his low moan as your glistening slit was revealed, sliding your undergarments down your thighs and calves, placing them carefully onto the floor.

You gradually straightened, breathing out, keeping it as one smooth motion.

You stepped out of your panties.

Now you were clad in only your black patent Louboutins and black diamond choker.

This time, you found your reflection in the mirror to delicately correct your smeared red lipstick with your fingertips. Good enough. You nodded at your reflection. The corners of your mouth curved upwards.

You turned to face him, showing Jungkook your smile.

-

This smile was real.

The smile she only showed when she was with him. He didn’t know if that was a valid thought or not, but he liked to think so. Besides, no smile meant as much as this one. That he was sure of, because he had been chasing this smile for all these years before finally accepting that he would never find another one like it. It was too precious to belong to anyone else.

His smile.

If his dick wasn’t trying to rip open his pants, Jungkook might have cried seeing it for the first time.

He couldn’t speak, too afraid he was going to lose it right then and there.

She walked towards him.

No, walk wasn’t the correct word. Strode, strut, glided, fuck, he didn’t know, she just moved as fluidly as a shadow and water combined, silver moonlight glistening off her skin and her diamonds, and he knew he would never love the mere act of walking more than when he watched her move.

She stilled.

He stopped breathing.

Her foot raised, toes tracing the inside of the heel, raising the pointed toe, balancing it on the stiletto, and she flicked it backward, causing it to tumble and somersault backward, falling to its side.

Fuck.

She thought of everything.

She balanced on tiptoe and did the same to the other shoe, discarding it with a swift tick.

He made a less-than-elegant noise of her name mixed with a needy whine.

“P… Please…”

Jungkook was quite sure he was a hair’s breath away from ripping off his pants to get some relief.

She finally made her way to stand in front of him. Smile so close now, emphasized by painted lips.

Her hands closed over his, peeling them away from his crotch, holding them loosely. She leaned forward, placing a delicate kiss on his lips. Deep, meaningful, nothing flashy. Drew back, still smiling.

This smile.

He wanted to protect it forever.

“I should have told you that I love you, but I didn’t know it then,” he whispered.

She chuckled.

“I know now.”

She was lowering herself as he spoke, tilting her head at him, inviting him to continue. Getting to her knees, positioning her feet right under her ass, neat and orderly. His hands dropped, leaving hers on his belt, undoing the buckle, her gaze still on him. Looking up at him with amusement, diamonds glittering on her throat, perky tits and nipples, thighs on display, kneeling in front of his crotch.

“I love you.”

Jungkook meant it, every syllable.

He never meant it more in her life.

“I know.”

What?

She casually undid his belt and slid the closure open, unzipping his slacks.

“Wait… what?” he sputtered, blinking rapidly.

“I know you love me,” she repeated calmly.

Jungkook had time for a single blink before his pants were yanked down to his knees. He started, almost falling over, but her hands came up behind his legs and gripped them, keeping him upright.

“Careful,” she purred, stroking the backs of his thighs.

He jerked his head down, hardly able to breathe, shock blossoming as she leaned forward, hot breath warming his black boxer briefs. Eyes on his face, pink tongue extending.

“O-Oh, fuuuck…”

She planted her tongue over his hardness and soaked it with saliva, wetting the fabric and tracing the outline, molding his underwear to his length, sending him into gasping shivers, heat from her tongue and then her lips closing, blowing a cool stream over it, hot and cold, sensation and deprivation, too much and not enough, placing kisses all over and he flinched with every one, savoring the feeling, the touch that was familiar and unfamiliar, everything he wanted.

“W-Wait… that’s dirty…”

“Not as dirty as the things I want to do to you.”

Not as dirty as the things I want to do to you.

Pants racking his torso, looking down, and it was the same but different, her lips kissing up his abs, his chest, back to his face, holding him to her, lipstick smeared and now on his skin. Open mouth to elegantly parted lips, gasping as she collected her breasts and pressed her nipples to his chest, squashing the softness to his pecs.

“Spit on my cleavage,” she breathed.

“W-What?”

She raised an eyebrow, knowing that he heard her perfectly well, squeezing her breasts together and rubbing them on his chest, sending the electric sensation of her large nipples dragging across his heartbeat, rolling her shoulders to the beat of the sea, bathed in silver moonlight.

“Spit on my tits, Jungkook.”

“I… c-couldn’t… do that to you…” he moaned, pitch hiking with pleasure.

She didn’t chide him to cover his mouth this time, instead smirking wider, licking her teeth. “Sure, you can. Do it, golden boy. Spit on me.”

She hooked a leg over his hip and grinded her crotch to his wet one, causing him to whine, knowing his cock was so close to her pussy but not yet skin to skin, the soaked fabric barrier driving him insane, his hands coming up to grip her waist and press her down on him, staring into her eyes, inhale shaky and erratic.

She smiled, teasing, sculptural, his.

“You trust me?”

Jungkook was drunk on something he didn’t understand and it was love.

“Yeah…”

He leaned forward, capturing her lips, an intense, burning kiss. She smiled into his kiss, and he knew she was aware of his nervousness, but she remained patient as she always was, pressing back daintily, taking his breath away. He broke apart, trembling.

She nodded, telling him it was okay.

He collected saliva at the tip of his tongue and looked down, spitting into her cleavage.

It shot out of his mouth, splattering over the swell of her breasts and onto his own chest. His ears burned, self-conscious at the dirty act, but she moaned deliciously, backing up, his saliva dripping down and stuck to the inside curve of her breasts. He had a moment to appreciate the image, the most beautiful woman in the world with her diamond choker and his spit on her tits glistening in the moonlight reflected by the sea.

“Wow.”

That was all he could say as the image burned into his memory.

She smirked, falling to her knees, tugging his black boxer briefs down his thighs, his stiff cock popping out, bobbing in the air at the suddenness of its release, and then trapped once more, except this time not in drenched fabric but in her soft, saliva-covered breasts – or his saliva, depending on how he thought about it – but he couldn’t think about it, abrupt pleasure shooting up his spine, throwing his head back in a moan, eyes darting everywhere, surrounded by mirrors, reflections of his face, his long black hair a wild mess, his facial features consumed by wanton lust, his throbbing cock jammed between her breasts and her body sliding up and down, her large nipples rubbing against his crotch and thighs, oh, fuck, the sensation insane, soft and rough and wet, her perfectly pinned hair leaving only the curls at the ends bouncing from her effort.

She spit down his length, adding to the lubrication and her name burst out of his mouth in an erratic groan.

“F-Fuck…!”

She pushed his cock up, almost uncomfortable, but then her mouth closed around the tip, tongue swirling, and he was lost again, ecstasy as she switched to blowing him, pressing her breasts to his thighs, smearing the saliva on them too, covering his cock in red lipstick, soaking every centimeter with saliva, running her tongue over the veins and the head, his hands clenching into fists, close, so close, and then she popped her mouth off, leaving him near tears and in whines.

“P-Please, let me cum, please…”

“I want you to cum on my necklace,” she panted, planting his cock in her cleavage again, lacing her fingers over it, pressing the head down into the slick skin, shock of her words and the escalating pleasure, his chin lowering and staring down at glittering black diamonds and the engorged tip of his length popping in and out of her breasts.

“You want me to… cum on your necklace…?” he echoed hollowly, in utter disbelief.

“Fuck yes, I do,” she grinned, tip of her tongue flickering at the edge of her lips. “Cum on my diamonds, Jungkook.”

Well, fuck.

This was the worst surreal and hottest moment of his life.

He clenched his jaw and thrust his hips into her chest, adding to the stimulation, chasing it, seeing her grin grow, devilish and devious, squeezing him tighter, faster, faster, faster, his hands and his body shaking, gripped by pleasure and her hold, panting her name over and over, his prayer, his drug, his lifeline, trying to hold out, the line inside him pulled taut, thinner and thinner, snapping.

“F-Fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

His hips jolted and he forced them upward, her head tipping back as the thick red tip popped out, twitching and splattering thick streams of white, painting the black diamonds with his white orgasm, clinging to the jewels and her collarbones, dripping down, covering her with his strong and masculine scent. She lifted her body, trapping his jolting cock in her breasts, and he moaned helplessly, rutting against her skin, sparks of pleasure shooting through his veins, uncontrollable flinching and shuddering as more dribbled out, milked out by the tightness.

“Oooooooh, f-fuck… fuck, I’m s-so sorry…” he gasped out, wincing at the mess he made.

“Ah, shut up, Jungkook.”

In awe, he watched her back up slightly, strings of his orgasm all over her breasts, chest, and diamonds.

She smiled and dipped her fingers in it, coating them with his cum and bringing them to her smeared red lips, licking them off one by one, pink tongue slipping between her elegant digits, moaning as she drank up his taste.

Eyes on his, drunk on him.

-

time left: --:--

Kim Namjoon leaned against Kim Seokjin’s shoulder, listening to the other man’s deep breathing.

They were sitting on the plush green couch in Kim Taehyung’s room.

The night was quiet, nothing but the sound of the waves coming through the open window, a light breeze as Namjoon watched the moon reflect off the ocean. Seokjin had already fallen asleep, head resting against the back of the sofa, tired from the day’s events and needing the rest. Namjoon felt the drowsiness beginning to weigh on him too, using Seokjin’s wide shoulder as his headrest. He had opened the window to prevent the room from getting too stuffy.

It would have been more comfortable to be in that giant bed with the one he was paid to protect, but he hoped she was in good hands now.

He smiled to himself, watching the silver moonlight dance off the choppy waters.

His mind went back to those moments, moments when he had to hold her shoulders and remind her of who and where she was, moments when he sat and waited as she clenched her teeth and a skilled medical tattoo artist filled in those white scars all over her hands, moments of when she finally sat him and Seokjin down and told them why she sometimes woke up at night, screaming and crying, yelling the names of past demons.

She had told them she was sorry, sorry for being weak, sorry for not taking responsibility.

Seokjin had scoffed, smacking her lightly on the head. “Are you an idiot? You have been through enough. Stop it with that nonsense. It’s part of our job, so let us do our job.”

After that, Namjoon would make it a point to check up on her at night, reaching over to soothe her brow as she slept, relaxing her face with gentle touches. He wanted to be there in case she woke up from a nightmare, and it became a habit, until Seokjin too elbowed himself in the bed, muttering that she always got the best digs anyway, so why shouldn’t he? He was handsome enough, after all.

They only accompanied her to events or appearances.

It bothered Namjoon to think that sometimes she was alone in her own home, waking up screaming and crying, and that he couldn’t be there.

He wondered what would come of this.

Jeon Jungkook.

Did he know that if he broke her heart that two ‘big-scary-dudes-with-massive-shoulders’ were going to find his ass and rearrange it?

Hm.

Namjoon closed his eyes, letting the night take him under its wing.

-

time left: error

The black diamond choker was on the vanity, covered in Jungkook’s cum.

Both of your clothes were on the floor, shoes, pants, dress, undergarments, strewn all over, a mess, along with a now cold, wet, white bath towel that smelled like semen and saliva. It had what was left of your red lipstick on it.

One of the designer cosmetic bags was open.

There were condoms scattered on the bed now, thrown over the red silk sheets.

Jungkook was holding your hands, palms up, tenderly kissing them.

It felt strange, his soft lips on your scars.

Most people didn’t realize it. It wasn’t something they looked for or thought to think twice about, because to them, your hands had always been like that. It would be rude to comment or mention it even if they had noticed.

But Jungkook had known your hands before they became like this.

“It’s why I stopped going to school.”

He kissed the pads of your fingertips, looking at you with those dark brown orbs.

“Did something bad happen?”

You smiled, somewhere between sad and apologetic.

“I wanted to make sure that I could still see you, but unfortunately I ended up doing the exact opposite.”

He squeezed your hands tightly, giving you his own smile. “Still, you came back to me.”

You chuckled ruefully. “Not with the best intentions.”

The silver moonlight highlighted all your favorite features, the cupid’s bow of his lips, the tiny mole underneath, the wrinkle of his nose with his smile, the stars in his eyes.

“You’ve always been dangerous and ill-advised for me, but I always liked that about you.”

You arched a brow. “Hm, you were a shitty class representative, huh?”

Jungkook shrugged. “You weren’t really a class delinquent either.”

You shook your head, pulling your hands out of his. “Look at you. What kind of class presentative gets all these tattoos?” you teased, dancing your fingers up his right forearm and elbow, tracing the outlines of the script and graphics, following the swirls of the clouds and flower petals with your nails, listening to his shallow breath at your touch. “And an eyebrow piercing? Are you trying to tell everyone you’re one of the cool kids now?”

His lips twisted into a small frown. “Am I cool?”

You shrugged. “Every time I hear about the cool kids in our grade, it’s just about how they got knocked up too early or how they dropped out of university, so you tell me.”

“I haven’t gotten knocked up.”

You gave him a look, bordering on impatience.

“Wait, I mean–”

You raised a hand and planted it on his chest, pushing him down on the bed.

“Enough. Stop talking, please.”

You crawled over his body, placing your hands by his head, looking down at him. Jungkook stared up at you, long black hair splayed over the pillows. He was definitely a man now, sharp jawline, manicured brows, slight dark circles from long nights, and, as you leaned down, expensive cologne now, still light and clean but with a twist of sharpness and sweet fruit, still with the same warmth. Your lips pressed against his jaw, leaving kisses, sinking your weight onto him, skin to skin, his gasps under you, and now it seemed like you were back in that time, his teenage self and your teenage self, the same eagerness as his arms surrounded you, running his hands down your back, but now he added his nails, making you hum in approval. He did it more, scratching his nails over your spine as you kissed his jaw, his throat, his ear, jingling his earrings with your tongue, whispering against his skin.

“No one has ever been what you are to me.”

You didn’t bother using past tense, because it wasn’t.

You sat down on his thigh, his semi-hard cock twitching against your skin, turned on by your kisses and your tongue toying with his ear.

“You weren’t even very good, you know. You were kinda shit. Too impatient.”

He shuddered, tensing his forearms against your sides.

“I’m b-better now…” he whimpered, turning into a moan as you bit his ear and rubbed your wetness on his thigh, painting it with your juices. You kept it slow, leisurely, with even pressure.

“Still…”

You lifted your head, bringing your fingers inward, slipping them into his hair, pushing it back, caressing his temple with your thumbs.

“I have loved you all this time, Jungkook, even back then when I didn’t know what love was, when I was only chasing a feeling that was different from all the others.”

His eyes widened, stunned by your words.

“Ah, nevertheless, I came back too late.”

“No.”

His hands on your back, holding you tightly to him.

“I want to kiss you all the time,” he whispered, words from long ago, bringing them back. “And I will.”

He raised his forehead and touched yours.

“I know it’s not fair, I know it’s bad, I know it’s terrible, but I’ll be fucked up if you can’t be right here, with me.”

His lips to yours, small kisses and closed eyes, hiding his tears behind his lashes.

“You are the happiness, and if you continue to love me, I will never let you go.”

That’s what Jungkook said, but the sentiment was slightly interrupted by his cock being so hard that it was actually raising your thigh up into the air.

You smiled against his lips, chuckling.

“I guess I’ll bring a towel when you get her cocktail splashed into your face.”

“Maybe two. She has a lot of internet friends.”

“Hm.”

You lifted your head, smirking.

“Well, I can’t say it would be the first relationship I’ve ruined, although those were far more indirect.”

-

Jungkook tried to make the moment romantic, but her naked body was on top of him with her wet pussy rubbing on his thigh and his dick was coming back to life right in the middle of his speech.

Still, he couldn’t really complain, because at the moment he was ripping open a condom, on his knees between her legs, rolling it down, eyes roaming over her body lines, poised and elegant and sexy, her hair flared out on the pillows, still neatly pinned up, some kind of sorcery, but that didn’t surprise Jungkook, for she had always had her spell on him and he was better for it.

“You want missionary?” she teased.

He bit his lip, nodding.

“I want to watch your face.”

Her tongue flickered out on the edge of her upper lip, accenting the high point of her smirk.

“Good, then I can watch yours.”

He positioned himself in front of her, pausing for a second, unsure now, but she simply grinned and reached between her legs, one hand on his length and the other on his hip, digging her nails into his ass and shoving him inside her.

“Oh, fuck!”

She seemed highly amused, but he was gone, sudden tightness and wetness enveloping him, pitching forward and catching himself on his palms, sinking into red silk, the intensity bursting from his core and washing over him, shuddering and gasping as she gripped his ass with both hands and sank him down into her pussy, down, down, drowning in the feeling, diving into the depths of pleasure, fuck, he felt it everywhere, her walls clenching and wrapped around his length, the sensitive head rubbing against the ridges, and the emotions that rushed through him as he looked into her eyes, a little humiliated that it affected him so much, a little shocked at how good it felt even with the condom, and a lot of lust and trust and love, all rolling into one, and she purred his name, smooth and silky and gentle, and he couldn’t help himself, slowly rolling his hips and smacking down hard, burying himself to the base, eyelids fluttering, feeling it radiate over his body.

“Too... hard?” he choked out, trying to be considerate, desperate not to fuck up.

She shook her head, snickering.

“Not even close.”

“How can I–?”

But she didn’t let him finish, tapping the mandala flower tattoo on his right elbow and he raised his arms, at loss for words and breath when she raised her legs to his shoulders and tugged his forearms back down, his hands landing on the bed once more.

Oh no.

This was tighter.

“Fuck me, Jungkook, and make it rough.”

I can’t talk or I will blow my load in two seconds.

He nodded, tensing his jaw, and smacked his crotch down, her thighs smacking against his chest.

Oh, fuck me.

He wished he could sound less desperate and less ruined, but he simply didn’t have the capacity for that any longer, tumbling into a series of wild moans as he built up the pace, wave after wave of pleasure crashing into him, too much sensation, soft thighs, wet tightness squeezing his throbbing length, her hands on his upper arms, holding on tightly, his name falling from her mouth along with her erotic exhale. He loved every sound she made, every single one, her moan, her hiss, her growl, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, that’s it, give it to me, Jungkook, loved the way she looked at him, a mixture of bliss and slyness, loved the sound their bodies made, a harsh rhythmic smack, louder and louder, messing up the sheets, her head tipping back, eyes closing, fuck, yes, gonna cum if you keep going like that, so he did, hard, firm, powerful slaps of skin-to-skin, feeling so good but holding himself back, biting his lip hard and moaning in his throat, not willing to orgasm until he made her do so, at least twice.

Jungkook was being ridiculous, he knew, but he wouldn’t forgive himself if he lost it too soon during his first time inside her.

“Mmm, fuck, Jungkook, fuck!”

A sharp throb and then a cascading effect, brutal massages of his length, and he didn’t even realize it, pausing for a second from the strength of her orgasm, his cock clenched all over and squeezed, shocking pleasure that made his eyes roll back, struggling with every fiber of his being to not explode, edging himself by ceasing his thrust, and then he drew back and rammed back into her, clawing up the sheets to press her further down into the bed, nearly bending her in half, but she didn’t seem to mind, gripping his arms and raising her hips to meet him, deeper now, the head being constricted even tighter by this changed angle, him sucking in a deep inhale, smelling blackberry, evergreen, and sex, the sweet smell of her pussy, reminding him of sitting on the bus on his way home and catching that scent on his hands and clothes, not regretting it, loving her mark on him.

It was better now.

Better because he was actually in her pussy.

And better because her teeth caught the side of her lower lip, a second of lost control, lashes lowering, moan in her mouth, his name, his name, his name leaking from her lips.

“Oh, Jungkook…”

He would never tire of it.

Never.

It burst again, a lewd squelch, and the insides of his thighs were soaked with viscous honey, clinging to his balls, violent throbs around his jerking length and Jungkook was gone, gone, everything accumulating at the peak and shattering down, his deep moan flooding the room, shooting his orgasm into the condom as his quivering cock was clenched all around, unbearable euphoria that he welcomed, letting it consume every nerve and vibrate through him, a feeling he never wanted to end.

He let it swallow him, her ocean, her moonlight, her night, and he promised himself that he would never leave.

-

All in all, Jeon Jungkook hadn’t changed much. That was alright. It was clear that you both had unfinished business in the past that was being hashed out right now.

Through sex, because how else?

He was behind you, both of you kneeling on the bed, his breath on your skin, murmuring your name, wonderment and desire, leaving a trail of kisses on your shoulders and neck.

“You can bite me, you know.”

He nipped at your skin experimentally. You pinched his finger on your upper arm, the little sheepish emoji on his middle right. He squeaked and bit harder. You hummed approvingly, lowering your hand.

“You’re turning me into a crazy person,” Jungkook mumbled to the curve of your neck.

“You were already a crazy person. You just pretend you’re not.”

“That’s not true…”

You gently peeled his right hand from your arm and yanked him forward. He inhaled sharply, hard chest hitting your back as you tugged his arm forward, curving it around you.

“What non-crazy person blacks out the inner part of their elbow and tattoos the bone on the outer part as well?” you accused, rubbing his muscular forearm against your nipples, smirking at his moan, his shiver traveling through your back and to the sparks of pleasure radiating from your breasts at the lovely friction.

“Um…”

That was as far as he gave you as an answer because he had no good answers.

“Mhm.”

His hand curved around your left breast and he ran his fingers over it, tugging at your nipple. You leaned into his touch, sighing softly. Well, maybe you had been a bit harsh. He had changed. Less clumsy now, attaining his own irresistible sensuality that he probably wasn’t even aware of, considering the wavering in his tone.

“You’ve probably had better than me, huh…”

“You would be surprised at the complete inadequacy of the human race when it comes to sex, Jungkook. Most people don’t give two shits about listening to their partner’s wants.”

He pinched your nipple and you moaned, rubbing your ass against his crotch.

“You always do everything I want and even things I didn’t even know I wanted,” he mumbled.

His cock was getting the hint with every rock of your hips, rousing at the soft friction. You listened to his rapid breathing, amused, the amusement turning into fond irritation as you felt his free hand slide between your bodies, tucking his hardening length between your ass cheeks, now slowly and non-discreetly humping you.

Well.

Can’t say you were surprised.

“You’re not that hard to read, Jungkook.”

He was leaking all over the top of your ass, ramming the head into your tailbone, now both hands on your chest, forgetting to answer, too absorbed in touching you, tugging at your nipples in time with his rocking hips, lips back to your neck, biting down and sucking hard, leaving marks. There was power in his hold, passion and desperation, a needy whine vibrating in his throat, faster, harder, pinching your nipples and rubbing the tips, pulling slightly, pleasure from his lips and his hands, your own reaching back and clawing at the small of his back, leaving scratches, yes, please, harder, mark me, make me yours, and you chuckled at his declaration, you were always mine, Jungkook, and he moaned your name in affirmation, licking up your neck, hot shaking breath ghosting your ear.

“Wanna fuck you from behind.”

You sunk your nails into his skin and brought your fingers outward, flicking your wrists to leave sharp lines of lust, his moan in your wake.

“Do it,” you drawled, voice saturated with need.

He pushed you down and your caught yourself with your hands, clutching fistfuls of red silk. You heard the rip of another condom and his groan as he encased his aching length, one hand on your ass, and you spread your legs, his knees fitting between them, the head grazing your wet opening and he slid in with a shudder, filling you up and stretching you out, a little pain that dissipated as he squeezed your ass with two hands, sighing with satisfaction with you.

“I know I said I want to kiss you all the time, and I do,” he panted, stalling.

You smiled, turning your head to look over your shoulder. Jungkook looked back at you and he reached forward, driving deeper into you, making you mewl for him. He plucked the pins from your hair, one by one, undoing the perfection, tossing them aside as he spoke, shrouding your shoulders and face with cool-toned black, surreal and glamorous.

“But I think I’ve decided I also want to fuck you all the time.”

You smirked. “You don’t take much convincing, I must say.”

He eased the last pin from your hair and flicked it aside.

You heard it fall to the floor.

That one wouldn’t be found in the morning.

He grinned. “Maybe I already knew you would be amazing.”

Instead of replying, you leaned forward and then smacked your ass back into his crotch.

Jungkook reeled, hand flying back to your hip, grabbing it tightly as you roughly pushed back into him, his natural response being to thrust forward, compounding the pleasure for you and for him, looking forward again and tipping your head back, letting go, moaning for him, his hardness twitching with your sound, loud and getting louder, bodies tangled, bed creaking, clutching your ass for dear life. You lifted one hand and brought beside your hip and Jungkook gripped your forearm, your body naturally dropping lower, deepening each thrust, and that was it, the uncontrollable need resonating in his deep voice, forcefully pounding you into the mattress, thighs, crotch, balls slapping into your lower half, carnal and wild and visceral, his name and your name mixing together, filling the room with the sight, sound, and smell of sex, so strong, fuck, he was so fucking strong, and so were you, a shock every time your bodies connected, until you were wailing with the ferocity of orgasm, squirming and clutching his forearm as he held yours, clenching around his length, but this time he didn’t stop, fucking you through it, gasping for air.

“Oh fuck, yes, fuck, do it again, cum for me again, fuck, feels so fucking good, feels like you’re choking my cock…”

And he brought it out of you again, your right hand punched into the sheets, your left in his hold, moaning for him, Jungkook, fuck, Jungkook, for him then, him now, him forever, ecstasy and elation, hitting a high you thought didn’t even exist, lust and trust and love, raising your torso and slamming your palm onto the headboard, rattling the whole damn bed.

“Fuck!”

Slamming back onto his cock and squeezing hard, Jungkook gasping at the suddenness of the harsh throbs around his length, jolting inside you and spilling another into the condom, your head whipping to the side, spotting a mirror and there he was, head thrown back, long black hair touching his shoulders, open mouth, eyes rolled back, chest shuddering, your name a shaky moan, holding you tight, his right arm travelling, wrapping around you and lifting you up, and then it was you in the mirror, your body against his, skin to skin, his dark brown orbs shifting down, feeling your eyes on him, and then he was watching your reflections, seeing your joined bodies, panting in unison, both sweaty and spent.

You smiled at him, lit up by moonlight and mirrors.

He smiled back.

And then his hand was on your chin and he turned your head to face him, tilting his head and kissing your smile, seeing it not its reflection but the real thing, no longer only when you thought he wasn’t looking.

-

time left: 00:00

“Oi.”

Jungkook didn’t recognize that voice at all. He concluded must still be dreaming.

A finger podded his temple.

“Oi!”

He started, but the arms encircling him pinned him in place, not letting him and his naked body leave the bed. Softness pressed against his back, bare nipples rubbing against his skin. He froze.

His dick was rock-hard.

A black-haired man in a black suit with a disturbingly handsome face was glaring at him.

“You animals made a fucking mess.”

“Go away, Seokjin.”

Jungkook squeaked, unable to talk because one of the hands holding him was dancing downwards under the covers, wrapping around his impossibly stiff length. He prayed it wouldn’t start moving up and down, but it did. Slowly. Not enough, but still too much, because he didn’t really want to get jacked off first thing in the morning while someone was very clearly assessing whether or not to cause extreme bodily harm to him.

Well, he did want to get jacked off first thing in the morning.

It was the bodily harm he was less enthused about.

The man named Seokjin squinted at him and it took every fiber of Jungkook’s being to not make a goddamn peep as her fingers ghosted the head, smearing slick pre-cum over the slit.

“I want to take a shower.”

“Then go take a shower. I left towels for you,” she mumbled behind Jungkook’s back.

“Namjoon’s in the shower right now.”

“Then order us some breakfast.”

“I sent Taehyung to do that. Also, it’s noon.”

“Couldn’t you order room service?”

Seokjin shrugged and Jungkook realized his shoulders were huge. “He said he had a friend who worked in the kitchen and was going to reserve us a table.”

She raised her head, resting her chin on Jungkook’s right shoulder and pulsing his cock with her right hand under the sheets. “Taehyung has a lot of friends, doesn’t he?”

Seokjin looked at Jungkook pointedly.

“Er… yeah. T-Tons…”

Those brown eyes narrowed, scrutinizing Jungkook suspiciously. “He seems like a dork.”

“I like dorks. That’s why I keep you around.”

Seokjin stuck his tongue out childishly and yelled at the top of his lungs. “Namjoon!”

“I’m done!”

“Finally,” Seokjin grumbled, walking off and yanking the bathroom door open, barging in unceremoniously.

“Gah!”

“Gah!!!”

-

“Oh, fuck, please, d-don’t…”

“It’ll only take me a second.”

You dove under the covers and Jungkook clapped his hands over his mouth, your grip on his twitching length moving fast and tight, rubbing your tongue on the hot head, and you were right, it only took a few seconds, and then Jungkook was hissing through his fingers, now, fuck, now, and your mouth swallowed his cock, not a moment too soon as thick spurts of his orgasm shot into your throat, coating the back of your tongue, savoring his smell and his thighs under your breasts, rubbing your nipples on the muscle.

“N-No, stop, stop,” Jungkook whimpered desperately, grabbing you by the shoulders and yanking you up, your head popping out, smirk on your lips.

You opened your mouth and showed him your tongue covered in his cum.

“Shit, you’re going to be the death of me…”

He hurriedly nudged your chin and you closed it, grinning.

Dangerous.

Ill-advised.

Jungkook grinned back at you helplessly, holding your smiling face in his hands.

---

some time later

“I have two towels.”

“She didn’t throw her drink at me.”

“Damn. I even seduced the bartender a little bit to get those plush cotton ones.”

“She asked if she could keep the ring so she could sell it and give the money to her secret, less good-looking boyfriend so he could buy her a new ring.”

“Oh. Wait, what?”

He shrugged, rubbing the back of his head. “I said sure, because it wasn’t like the love of my life couldn’t afford her own diamonds.”

“Ah, true, true.”

“I might be slandered for a little while on the internet.”

“Nah, you won’t. Maybe for like, six hours. Then everyone’s attention span will be somewhere else. Also, your taste upgraded in their eyes, from social media influencer to burlesque dancer.”

You grinned, raising your hands to create a finger frame of your index fingers and thumbs, enclosing the handsome face of Jeon Jungkook, long black hair, silver brow piercing, dark sculpted eyebrows, big brown eyes, defined jawline, shapely pink lips, mole of his nose and cheek, and finally that perfect mole underneath his lower lip, appearing as he smiled at you, confused at what you were doing.

“Even though we all know you’re just a hopeless sucker for the class delinquent. Tsk tsk.”

His grin grew mischievous, walking over to you as you lowered your hands.

“Well, I was a shit class representative anyway.”

He leaned down to kiss you, smile to smile.

Twelve hours.

Sunset to night.

-

fin.

--

masterpost

[lovecanbesostrange]

I want Star Trek: Legacy and I want it asap. Among the things I’d like to see:

Seven and Raffi talk about what happened between S2&3 of PIC, so we can understand how their relationship didn’t hold up (Seven joining Starfleet and Raffi doing spy-stuff made it hart; so I can see a super rational explanation that is not about falling out of love)

Now here we are with a Captain and her first officer and the workplace romance that shouldn’t be, A+

by the end of S2 Jack can complain how he is still an Ensign and Seven tells him one of the best Starfleet officers she ever met was an Ensign for seven years...

Seven has more lights installed, at least on the bridge, so I get to fucking see what is happening

the young crew talking through their trauma, we get a lot of special moments between Seven and Sidney (Seven realises she is now a mentor)

Elnor joins the crew!

we entangle the mess that is Raffi’s personal life

Jack keeps telling crazy stories of what he did with his Mom (some of the things can never leave the room or else she might get stripped of her Admiral rank again)

episodic adventures! A little bit of an arc building in the background is fine, but self-contained episodes while the characters develop, that can actually work (a weak, even bad, stand-alone episode is easily forgotten, bad writing in a dense plot ruins the whole season); mention of the Dominion to pick up the threads is encouraged though

we get to meet a new species and build them up; here is a possible extended arc

meeting DS9 & VOY people along the way in sensible doses; seeing how Naomi Wildman is doing is a MUST!

Risa vacation (we finally get to talk how people on the planet have to power to throw out unruly tourists and there are in fact rules at play; positive sex work story to clean it all up, but also fun times and hanging a lantern on Seven’s catsuit-for-sex-appeal-days)

holodeck hijinks (I vote for a pirates-at-sea adventure)

meeting Sidney’s mom (and that better not be Leah Brahms, people need to stop that nonsense)

Seven violates the Prime Directive (and morally she will be right about it)

also conflict with the Rangers to put Seven through the ringer (not related to the above point)

Lt Esmar on Comms seems fun, would like to see more of them and same goes for Lt Mura on Tactical, keep the Bajoran. But since T’Veen was killed... *sigh*... I want a designated science officer with a bigger role. I need somebody to flash the blue science uniform on that bridge. (Chief Engineer and Chief Medical are also open, although guess Doc Ohk *harrrrr* could still be around, but with Beverly on board she didn’t leave a big impression unlike the bridge crew we got... I liked T’Veen :/....)

somebody should get a pet

I just want the Enterprise getting stuck in weird space anomalies, racing against time to help some colonies against natural disasters, diplomatic missions as allegories for some current events, we could revisit some planets from TNG and see how it’s going now (but more serious than LD would), alien mysteries in weird ruins. Make it fun and hopeful.

Oh, and then, the big drama. Bring back the “Conspiracy” worms!! XD

[fadebolt]

Well, here we are, the 1v1 polls. And you know what that means - it's time for another format shift! I'm going to keep things simple, by listing what each of the two options have over the other, and making a conclusion of off that. Since most of the rooms in this round have a bit of an emotional aspect to them (case in point - this very poll), it's gonna be a little difficult to keep a sense of objectivity, but I'll try my best.

So, this one is about the city view room from The Exterior, and the large climbable tree from Outer Expanse. Since the city view came first, let's address it first as well.

I think the main thing that H01 does a lot better than TREETOP is that it's way easier to find, since Five Pebbles always tries to get Slugcats to leave the puppet chamber by going upward, rather than downward, into his superstructure. This means that the room only gets avoided when the player is deliberately refusing to take the path of least resistance, whereas TREETOP specifically demands that you don't take the path of least resistance. (And as such, a lot of players will miss it - I know I sure did. It's a good thing the devs put an unlockable there, cus otherwise, I might not have ever checked on it… just like how I never checked on the Metropolis Echo)

And is there anything else to note?

Well, I would say that it heavily wins in the music department, too - Stargazer is a very hard hitting piece of music that fits this area perfectly, and is the reason why this is such an impactful moment for people's first playthroughs, whereas Reminiscence is just kind of…. fine. (Bet ya didn't even know it plays in TREETOP, did ya? I actually had to look it up on a Reddit post myself xd)

There's also the fact that people got so obsessed over the background visuals of this one room that modders actually decided to make entire regions based off of it. And yes, I did use 'regions' plural, because Metropolis ain't the only fanmade region where you get to go into an Ancient city (though Scorched District is the only other example I know, but I'm sure there's more). I believe H01 is the only room that has managed to accomplish something like this (cus Rubicon and The Rot were seemingly off of subregions, not individual rooms), which is why it's an enormous achievement.

Now that we've noted all this, what is it that TREETOP has to offer? A decent number of things, as you might imagine.

For starters, it actually has some decent gameplay, where you get to do a bit of fun climbing, instead of just having to hold your finger on the right or left arrow key on your keyboard, as you wait for your Slugcat to get from one pipe to the other. The room feels a lot less tedious as a result of this, especially since it takes a lil shorter to get through, as well.

Most Downpour players also know that H01 gets Scavengers in Spearmaster's and Artificer's campaigns, which can be a minor inconvenience at best, and an utterly insufferable obstacle that kills you multiple times at worst. Not to mention, thanks to how the campaigns of those 2 Slugcats work, both of them are pretty much forced to cross the room, so you kind of have no choice, but to deal with this new annoyance (unless you want to use a Passage as SM, or bring a lvl 5 Karma Scavenger corpse into the Underhang gate as Arti...... and then reach the Metropolis gate by going back down, and then climbing up the Wall). It's a neat world building detail, but god, does it suck for gameplay!

To get back on track with TREETOP's positives, it allows you to see something you couldn't see anywhere else, either before or after - which is Five Pebbles' can from afar. The interactive map really doesn't do it justice, but it is extremely well detailed, and extremely well drawn, and honestly, just hats off to whoever made this background because they did an incredible job, that I really cannot do justice for, within this little reblog!

I would give it points for having that beautiful glowing orb thingy, buuuuut this is technically not the only room that uses it. However, I believe that this is by far the biggest one, so there's that.

In conclusion - this is a really difficult choice. I feel like the achievements of H01 outweigh the achievements of TREETOP, but the former also has weakspots that are much more significant and egregious than the weakspots of the latter. I'm still going with H01, partially because I have a bit of a bias, being a pre-Downpour player, but also because of just how much that one room actually did for the game in general. I know that TREETOP is more popular, and believe me, I totally get it (if my long praise speech on it wasn't proof enough), but sometimes, you really can't help but appreciate the impact that something has had.

Pick Your Favorite Rain World Room, Day 283 R5

There is a hidden slugcat in one of the rooms (they can be in any color). If u can see it comment or reblog with where they are and if u are first, u get a cookie!

Credit for game screenshots goes to: Rain World Interactive Map, Rain World Wiki and me

Congratulations for day 282 winners!

[mikauzoran]

Doudou Vilain/Despair Bear in Retrospect

So, today I rewatched Doudou Vilain/Despair Bear, and I’d forgotten what a cute Adrienette episode it is.

At the beginning, Chloé calls the fire department to interrupt Tom’s baking lesson to the class, and then she tries to blame Marinette. I love how Adrien immediately jumps to Marinette’s defence. His automatic response is “Marinette would never do something like that”. Even though she can’t get three sentences out straight around him, he has a very high opinion of her.

I love how comfortable Adrien is getting into Marinette’s personal space. XD

And then he just leaves his hand there once he pulls back. I don’t know if he’s trying to comfort her or if he just wants an excuse to be physically affectionate. I super buy into the popular fanon theory that Adrien is severely touch-starved.

I’m proud of him for confronting Chloé about her behaviour. It’s a little disappointing that, at the end, when she goes back to her old ways once he says he’ll be friends with her again, his response is a slightly chagrined but fond “She’s never going to change”. I realize that confronting her was a big step, though. I don’t think he’s ever stood up to anyone like that before, and I’m really proud that he tried to set boundaries and expectations with Chloé, even if it didn’t work out in the end.

I think in this episode we kind of see an uglier side of Marinette. It’s clear that Chloé just sets her off. In the beginning, Chloé is being an insulting brat through Tom’s macaron demonstration, and Marinette is annoyed. She’s watching Chloé in suspicion, and when Damocles holds the assembly to find out who called the fire department, Marinette jumps to the (correct) conclusion that it was Chloé. When Marinette sees Adrien talking to Chloé, Marinette loses her temper. Marinette then only decides to attend Chloé’s party because Adrien is going to be there.

Part of me understands because Marinette has been bullied by Chloé her whole life, so distrust, suspicion, and ill-will are totally understandable. Also, she’s young and in love for the first time, and she doesn’t know how to have a healthy crush on someone yet, and, right now, her feelings for Adrien are a little too obsessive. I mean, he’s allowed to talk to other girls, even if he were dating Marinette. Her behaviour puts up a lot of red flags for me, but, like I said, she’s young and has a lot of learning and growing to do so that she’s capable of being in a healthy relationship. I think we’ve seen some of this growth already in Seasons Three and Four. Marinette and Adrien are both amazing, and they deserve to be in a happy, healthy relationship.

I really like this shot showing how Chloé’s bear has been there for her in the past. I think this is a wonderful piece of succinct character development and backstory. I’m very pleased with how they snuck this in there. It highlights a lot of her issues: her father giving her things instead of his time and attention, her mother abandoning her, how she was alone and isolated with only Adrien as a friend... There’s a lot in this one image, and I love it.

I also liked Chloé grabbing, like, five chocolates and stuffing them in her mouth. Mood, Girl. Mood.

Additionally, it’s really funny how Papillon preemptively sends out an akuma to Chloé’s party because he knows it’s going to be a good opportunity to get someone or other. And then he throws a fit when she lets him down. XD Gabriel is really hilarious when he’s Papillon. He’s such a melodramatic nerd.

The above is probably my chief complaint about this episode. Rose, where is your beautiful girlfriend? Why aren’t you dancing with Juleka? Usually, the show does a good job of sneaking JuleRose content into the background for me, but this episode let me down. T^T

Fortunately, it made up for the oversight with the Adrienette dance scene. I love how Marinette bumps into Adrien, and Adrien is like, “Oh, hey. I want to dance with this girl. Let’s go.” And then he looks at her so tenderly. uwu They’re cute, guys. I’m telling you, he loves her already.

And then it gets better when Alya moves their hands and Adrien is just like, “Romantic slow dance with Marinette? I’d love to!”

I love this interaction so much because Marinette is all panicking and afraid of how Adrien will react to what Alya has done, and Adrien just shrugs and pulls her in close and rests his head against hers. Adrien is the one to initiate.

I also love how they keep dancing with one another after the slow song ends. ^w^ (No one on this show can dance in a party setting. XD I guess we need to blame the animation budget.)

Also cool was the move Ladybug uses to break out of Chat Noir’s hold while he’s being controlled and put him in an arm lock. It doesn’t look like any of the hold-breaking techniques that I’ve learned, but it looks kind of similar. I’m using this to support my headcanon that Marinette starts learning self-defence after becoming Ladybug.

It’s also kind of interesting that Chloé is the one to react first and jump in to do something to help when Chat Noir tries to use Cataclysm on Ladybug. I didn’t remember that part. Way to go, Chloé!

It was also cool how Chloé got to help Ladybug fight Doudou Vilain while Chat was being controlled. I’m really proud of Marinette for putting her personal feelings for Chloé aside and acting like a real superhero by involving Chloé and praising her for doing a good job.

I’m also proud of Chloé for stepping up and doing the right thing. I’m really sad that she goes back to her old ways after Adrien forgives her and tells her he’s proud of her for making an effort to be nice. :/ I really want Chloé character development that sticks. I want her to learn and grow and be a better person because she has so much potential. I think this episode shows how cool she could be if the writers gave her a character development arc that stuck. ^.^; 

Anyway, the disappointment over Chloé aside, I like the ending of the episode. Adrien purposely goes up to Marinette to ask for one of her macarons when there are literally a dozen other people he could have asked for a sample. He gets up in her personal space yet again and asks, “Can I?” and then he says that her macarons are as good as her dancing. XD Adrien doesn’t even know what he does to that poor girl. All in all, good episode.

[hyperfixated-fan]

Yooo! That special was so goooood!

The third episode, ”Time to be Warriors,” was pretty good. It was interesting to see a glimpse Lady Bone Demon’s background. She’s such a perfectionist.

Macaque sitting tied up in time out was priceless and Tang losing his cool with the not Mayor caught me off guard. XD

Tang’s speech was so awesome and the team’s support of MK is so sweet!

Not gonna lie, I did not are for the reappearance of Party MK. He is really annoying.

And okay… OKAY! I started off pretty neutral in my stance of Dragonfruitshipping but these little crumbs along the way have pushed me over the edge and now I am a full blown shipper. Red Son really does care for Mei and it shows and it is so WHOLESOME!

And Pigsy, Tang, and Sandy’s powers getting unleashed was such an epic scene!!

Episode 4: “Destiny Fulfilled” I also started off pretty indifferent to Macaque, but I really appreciate him helping out and facing Sun Wukong even if he did get beaten up. Poor dude.

I was sooooo happy when Sun Wukong finally snapped put of it and him and MK freed the staff together!

Macaque gained my full respect when literally threw himself forward to gently catch the possessed girl! Look at how gently he holds her! (And then of course there’s MK and Sun Wukong.)

The scene with MK’s mech and everyone standing behind him was so beautiful.

Aaaaand Red Son shouting at Mei and HOLDING HER FACE IN HIS HANDS was the nail in the coffin for me. Cue the unholy shipper screeching.

The powers coming out, everyone being freed, NEZHA BEING ALIVE (that was a huge relief for me) AND THROWING SKATES ON THE MECH, PIF and DBK being freed, and them blasting LBD was just… AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGHHHHHH! ABSOLUTELY THE MOST STUNNING, INSANELY BEAUTIFUL SCENE EVER! THE SCORE IN THE BACK WAS AMAZING TOO!

LBD’s last words to MK were chilling.

I really love, love, love that Sun Wukong explicitly apologized to MK for being a horrible mentor.

AND THAT ENDING SCENE WAS SO BEAUTIFUL! I LOVE ALL THE CALLBACKS TO OLDER CHARACTERS! RED SON WITH HIS FAMILY WAS ADORABLE! IT WRAPPED EVERYTHING UP SO NICELY.

But I’m hoping that one last scene with the scroll opening up means we’ll be getting another season with a new adventure. What do you guys think?

[stargazing-dreamer-girl]

You & I

Requested by anon: “Could I get a Luke Patterson x reader where the reader is able to see Luke, Reggie, nd Alex. The only difference from julie is that she can make contact w/them.”

A/N: I rewrote this a bunch of times actually because it never really worked out but here is this xD just some Luke fluff

Pairing: Luke Patterson x female!reader

WC: 1.6k

“Luke!” You spun around with your hand on your chest begging your racing heart to calm down. Luke had scared you by just appearing behind you. “What the fuck?! You can’t scare me like that, it’s bad for my health!” you complained, turning back to your locker. There were already people looking at you because of your outcry and you didn’t want to raise more attention.

“I just came to see you. Is it really that bad that I missed my amazing, beautiful girlfriend who I haven’t seen in way too long?” He leaned against the locker next to yours dramatically, his gaze never leaving you. He gently reached out to your wrist playing with the guitar charm on your bracelet. It had been a gift from him. Well, he asked Julie for help since he couldn’t purchase anything given the fact that he was a ghost, but he was the one who chose what to get you and Julie bought it for him. Now, you never took it off.

You chuckled at his theatrics. “We just saw each other yesterday,” you reminded him. You had been over at Julie’s to help her with some homework which resulted in the two of you spending time in the garage with the boys and not getting a lot of stuff done. Instead, you had talked, played some music and joked around. A good alternative to studying in your eyes.

“That doesn’t count!” He pouted. “You were there for Julie, not for me. When was the last time we spend time together, just the two of us?” The question caught you off-guard. It had indeed been a little while ago. Way too long, you thought. Somehow someone was always around, whether it be Alex and Reggie, Julie, Flynn or even your parents. Although your parents were oblivious to Luke’s presence, it was like they knew when he was in your room, so they would barge in to interrupt. Or they would call when you were out, needing you to come home immediately or do something for them right away. Whenever you tried to do something together, someone always seemed to intervene.

“You’re right.” You sighed, looking over at him, but you turned right back towards your locker when you realized there was another person at their locker right behind to Luke. You wouldn’t want them to think you were talking to them. Luckily, they didn’t pay you much attention. You tried to look busy by reorganizing your books. When you spoke again it was in a quiet voice. “I hate that we weren’t able to be together without anyone else around. It feels like the universe is trying to keep us apart or something.” You laughed, playing your statement off as a joke, but it was a thought that had occurred to you many times before. Being in a relationship with a ghost was… It was great, actually. You loved Luke and he loved you and there wasn’t a human alive on Earth that you had a similar connection with than you had with Luke, but there was always Flynn’s nagging voice in your head reminding you that he was a literal ghost. He was not alive. And how could this ever be something real, if you were alive and he was not?

But it didn’t feel like that to you. You were able to see Luke, to touch him. He was just like any other boy to you in those regards. Sometimes when you were alone with him you even forgot that he was a ghost. You’d be harshly reminded of it again when someone would walk through him or he would walk through something or when he would teleport out of wherever you’d be. Your logical brain, backed up by Flynn, would tell you that it wasn’t natural, it wasn’t right to be in a relationship with a ghost, but your heart? Your heart told you that you loved Luke. It didn’t care about what the future would hold. It cared about the here and now, the moments you shared.

Luke could read the troubling thoughts that were on your mind from your face, your furrowed brows and pursed lips a dead giveaway. He leaned towards you. Determination written across his face. “Let’s get out of here!” He grabbed your hand and pulled you away, closing your locker in the process. You tried to keep up with him, so it wouldn’t look like you were being pulled by thin air. The idea of skipping class and spending time with Luke instead actually sounded great. You’d rather do almost anything with him right now than stay in that building and fight your way through three more classes. And the chance was slim that you’d get interrupted since Julie and Flynn were still at school, your parents at work and what Reggie and Alex were up to you didn’t know.

“Studio or my house?” you asked to check where you’d be going.

“Reggie might be hanging out at the studio, so let’s go to your house,” he answered. His hand still firmly held onto yours. “What’s on your mind?” he followed up when he noticed your focus on your intertwined hands.

“I’m just grateful, I guess, that I get to see you and touch you.” You gently squeezed his hand. You did that a lot, especially with your friends around. It was a subtle way to show your affection or to reassure each other of your presence. “I don’t know how it came to be that it is this way, but I’m really glad.” You smiled at him.

When you arrived at your house Luke immediately went to your living room couch and made himself comfortable while you put your bag away in your room. “Do you want to watch a movie?” You asked when you joined him. Without waiting for a reply, you grabbed the remote to pull up a movie on Netflix as you sat down next to him, but that wasn’t good enough for Luke. He always held back around the others because he knew it might make them uncomfortable, but he loved holding you, touching you, having you close, so he pulled you in to lie against his side, an arm securely wrapped around your waist. You rested your head on his shoulder still looking for something to watch. “What kind of movie are you in the mood for?”

“Just put on something you like. I probably won’t know it anyway.” That wasn’t a big help, but after a bit more contemplation decided on one. It was a movie you already knew by heart and thought Luke might like as well. But what movie was playing wasn’t of much importance anyways. The way Luke was holding you close, pressing kisses onto the top of your head from time to time, that was what mattered. His thumb kept caressing your side. With the noises from the movie playing in the background your eyelids grew heavy and it wasn’t long until you fell asleep.

Luke noticed it immediately when you fell asleep. You were leaning further into him and your hand had fallen from where it was lying on top of his. He carefully moved to lie down on the couch so as to not wake you up. When he was done your eyes were still closed and your breaths even, still, you seemed to cuddle into him even more in your sleep. Luke couldn’t help but fall even more in love with you at the sight. He was aware that you thought it was creepy when he watched you sleep but he liked doing it. There was nothing to disturb him from taking in all your features, to memorize every little thing about you.

He let you sleep for an hour before he decided it was time to wake you by pressing kisses all over your face. You scrunched up your face at the sensation, your sleep-induced mind barely registering what was happening. When you finally opened your eyes, Luke was smiling at you. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” he whispered before he bent down again to connect your lips.

“What time is it?”, you asked him, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you slowly sat up.

“Almost 2pm,” he answered after checking your phone.

“Already?!” you exclaimed, now awake. “Why did you let me sleep? You gotta go to practice soon! I thought we wanted to do stuff together today.”

“I do. And I let you sleep because it looked like you needed it. Anyways, technically we did spend time together.”

You eyed him suspiciously. “Did you watch me sleep again?”

He already moved away from you, bringing some distance between the two of you in case you would resort to chugging a pillow at him at his answer. A cheeky smile appeared on his face as he pulled his shoulders up. “Maybe.”

You sighed frustratedly. “Please, don’t do that. It feels so weird to know you watch me sleep. Like, what if I drool?”

“You do,” he laughed, moving closer again. He leaned over the back of the couch to gently grab your chin and wipe over it with his thumb. “But it’s cute.” The grin never left his face while you swatted his hand away, pouting.

You groan. “You’re the worst.”

“But you love me,” he continued with a cocky grin which had you roll your eyes.

“I do. Even though I do wonder why sometimes.” You pulled him back towards you to kiss him again, smiling into the kiss. “And now come cuddle with me until you have to go to band practice.” You opened your arms. Luke happily accepted the invitation, jumped over the back of the couch and lay down beside you. With his head resting on your chest and your fingers carding through his hair he let out a sigh and relaxed into your embrace.

“I love you, too,” he mumbled lazily.

[reddeadreference]

Blog Progress Update (Travel Blog Style 😎#10)

Doing Beau Grey's mission and I had to stop because Arthur's face as he listens to Beau go on and on about the love of his life. My heart… ow…

(Yes I actually spent the time to make the video above... I have too much time on my hands...)

Saw Kieran's fishing mission pop up. Went to Lagras. Realized I hadn't spoken to Mr. Gill yet. Took the camp boat across the lake. Ran back to fast travel to Lagras again. It was night. Helped a man get his home back from nite Folk. Forgot why I went to Lagras in the first place and fast traveled back to camp, remembered AS Arthur was kicking out the fire.

Back to Lagras, got the lures, back to camp .. and now instead Javier is ready to fish…

Wait, hold up… someone explain to me why I just PAID Grimshaw for making me clean up….

Alrighty fishing with Javi…

Javier: Slowly…slowly...

Arthur: *furiously reeling in the fish*

Javier: Bruh…

I was ready to just sleep to the next day to see if Kieran's mission popped back up… but then Molly called me over.. I refuse to ignore her even if Arthur will ultimately ignore her anyways…

Always interesting when Uncle is involved in missions… anyone else pronounce Lumbago like Trivago (lum-bah-go instead of lum-bay-go) because of that meme? Just me? Kay…

Went to go do the two debtors we got. Poor Gwyn… poor Mrs. Claypole….

Poor Winton… you never ever split up in a cave or horror situation of any kind.

“You’re supposed to be goin the other way”... I… I DID. I just didn't investigate the sound… I’m just tryin to save your life buddy… buh-bye… we tried Arthur, we tried…

Okay people in this camp need to stop looking so damn pretty I have so many filtered photos now it’s ridiculous…. (Idk if I should post them on this blog or my alt rdr blog… I have little collages made, each person with one filter each: Mary-Beth Red Pass, Tilly Yellow, Karen Blue, Sadie Western, Abigail Bleach Bypass, Molly Two-Split. Can't figure out which to use for Grimshaw… I was between Battlefield and Health Tonic for Kieran. )

DAMN IT ARTHUR I wanna GREET Kieran not yell at the poor boy!

The icon appeared for fishing with Kieran and then locked and then I saw him walking over with his fishing rod and it unlocked again and…. BOI the whirlwind of emotions I just went through. (Just watching the scene, this boy makes me do happy arm flaps XD. "Not much of a fisherman" "but I AM") I was taking a photo of him on his horse… and both our horses look high af XD

Caught the big bluegill ^-^ he was excited. Walked him all the way back to camp because I was curious because he started going in the complete opposite direction of camp. He went through the Braithwaite's field (we got yelled at by a guard ..) to the road. We passed by two men blowing open a safe… ended how you expected. Explosions really echo and reach far in the game don't they..

I'm pretty much putting off going into town to see Dutch for as long as possible so onto Lenny's mission!

Lenny mah boah!

Went into Rhodes to finally do the moonshine mission and I find a drunk man on a bench. Time to burn some stuff.

One question… did we have to STAB the damn squatters???

Anyway, I got that over with and went back to town. On my way to the mission I heard a woman behind the gunsmith, Arthur saved her. But of course me getting into a fight went against Dutch's "don't cause problems in town" rule. Arthur comes out from behind the building and sees Dutch and Bill on their horses… running away… neat detail, didn't know that would happen. Waited a bit and finally did the moonshine mission. Raced Dutch back and left him in the dust!! Haha! Like there was a good inch between us on the mini map.

Ah the genuine fun and good times..

--

I found a youtube channel that “datamined” the game to get clean versions of the songs (clean as in no background noise) so I’ll be able to make song posts with lyrics with those videos (obviously the videos will link to that channel still so it's not like I'm reposting the video itself) so I'm gonna start working on those soon.