#what i've done in the past is still checked my notes and tags for things i want to reblog | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chryblossomjjk · 2 years ago

Text

the weekend | jjk

⇢ PAIRING: dilf!jk x babysitter reader

⇢ RATING/GENRE: m/18+ | fwb, sm*t, angst

⇢ WC: 13.8k

⇢ WARNINGS: alright boyz strap in bc it's a doozy lmao, protected s*x, multiple org*sms (m & f), or*l s*x (m receiving), face f*ck, f*ngering, rough s*x, face slapping, sp*nking, exh*bitionism, sir k*nk, t*tty f*ck, t*tty sucking (duh), body piercings (n*pples), age gap (reader is 23 and jk is like 30), infid*lity (reader is the other woman), ch*king, overst*mulation, sp*tting, man handling, finger s*cking, d*m jk, brief mentions of past add*ction, implied passing of a bby (mainly subtext w no details given), maybe unrequited love, maybe not (EVIL CACKLE), some dark thoughts discussed (nothing too graphic or detailed), fighting n yelling n crying yikes, all of these characters are v flawed (except for yul duh), cute bby moments!!, oc is v immature n naive n contradicts herself a lot, she maybe has a thing for older guys bc of that, some bl*od (just a scrape on the knee but ik bl*od can be triggering), this relationship is extremely toxic and not meant to be desired!!!, one homage to trixie mattel lmao

⇢ SUMMARY: every weekend, you give jungkook a little taste of something he’s missing monday through friday.

⇢ NOTES: so after months and months of planning this fic (i literally posted the teaser in JANUARY UM??), it's finally here. i think this is my fav thing i've written thus far and i worked v hard on this! would love to know ur thoughts, feedback is always appreciated!! ty @/taegularities for betaing!! (for whatever reason, this fic refuses to show up in tags n it sucks n nothing i do fixes it so i shall leave it be lol)

You can't tell what’s louder—the crunch of dewy, end-of-summer grass pricking the soft skin of your thighs like angry thorns, or the cracking of bones as your body thumps to the ground from your bedroom window.

“Ah-” the whine is quickly stifled by a sharp hiss as you remember your dad’s sleeping figure is just behind the wall next to you. “Ouch,” you whimper, praying that the crash hasn’t reached his watchful ears. Carefully, you climb to your feet, brushing the dirt off your bare legs. You spot a fresh crimson scrape on your knee.

Fucking great.

Finally, after days of longing and waiting, the weekend has arrived. Today, in particular, is a fantastic day. You were trying to look sexy, and blood isn't exactly the sexiest accessory. Bringing your wrist up to your nose, you inhale the candy-scented liquid you had doused yourself in before leaving.

Perfume still in check, thank fuck.

Goosebumps form on your skin as you take long, dutiful strides, cool night mist gliding through the thin material of your long silk shirt. You’ve committed this path to memory—out the window, usually in a more graceful manner, through the neighbor’s yard, and then straight down the sidewalk to the black Mercedes Benz waiting for you at the end of the road.

If you hadn’t done this a million and one times already, you might’ve missed the vehicle, so dark that it blends into the night seamlessly. You can’t help but wonder if that’s his goal entirely.

Still, the excitement of it all makes you walk a little faster.

“Hey, Jungkook,” you smile as you slide into his black leather passenger seat, leaning over the center console to give his cheek a gentle peck. Maybe you’ve overstepped a boundary and muddied the lines in the sand of your… relationship, but you can’t help yourself. Seeing Jungkook was always a treat, one you looked forward to every Friday night for the past five months.

“Hi,” he says impassively, eyes darting over your figure. A loose strand of hair dangles in front of his eyes, teasing you. “You’re wearing makeup?”

“Oh, um…” You’re at a loss for words; surprised he noticed such a slight change in your appearance. Although his perceptiveness was something you noted shortly after you began working for him, you can’t help but feel flustered. “Yeah, I… wanted to look nice tonight. Totally busted my ass climbing out the window,” you laugh.

“Did you get hurt?” His straight brows furrow slightly, silver piercing reflecting the moonlight.

“Just a scratch.” You lift your leg to show him the red mark on your knee. “Didn’t break anything, though, so that’s a plus.”

Wordlessly, Jungkook reaches over, popping open the glove compartment before you and pulling out the first aid kit he keeps there for emergencies. The scent of clean linen wafts over you from his daily cologne. His scent. Only his. You try your best to subdue the possessive smirk forming. “You should be more careful.”

“I’m okay.”

“Be more careful,” he commands, peering up at you with an icy gaze. “Got it?”

Whether it’s the seven-year age gap between the two of you or the tone of his voice, you know better than to argue. “Yes,” you wince as he rubs Neosporin onto the open wound. “Besides, I wouldn’t have gotten hurt if my dad wasn’t so… overprotective.”

“Well,” he continues, sticking a pink Baby Shark bandaid to your skin before putting the box back, “as a father, I understand.”

“Yul is two, though,” you laugh, “I’m in my twenties.”

“Being in your early twenties hardly makes you an adult,” he mutters. "Besides, it doesn't matter. The need to protect your children always stays the same.”

“Poor Bunny,” you pout jokingly as you click your seatbelt on. “She’s going to be just like me when she’s older. Sneaking out of a window to see a boy because her daddy is a big grizzly bear.”

The comment has his nose twitching in irritation. “I’m done with this conversation, __.”

You freeze. Have you struck a nerve?

“Jungkook, I’m sorry,” you peep. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Stop.” His voice is flat, but your heart thumps. “It’s fine.”

All the excitement you feel suddenly morphs into an uncomfortable ache as you slump into your seat. It’s different than it was last weekend, positioned much closer to the dashboard than you would ever put it. There’s a claustrophobic sting in your chest as you realize someone else has been in this very spot.

You know they have, and you know who.

The deafening sound of the bulky silver band on his finger, tapping against the steering wheel as he begins driving to the hotel you frequent, is a sick reminder.

You swear there’s even a musky floral scent lingering in the air. Deeper and more mature than yours. It could be paranoia, or guilt, making you imagine things. Still, you hope your perfume finds its way into every fiber of his leather seats.

“How was your day?” Jungkook asks, interrupting any rational thought or doubt, luring you back into the vicious cycle.

“A bit stressful,” you sigh. “I applied for school today.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah, pretty sure I messed up on the financial aid paperwork, though. It was super confusing; I didn’t understand any of it.”

“You should’ve brought it over. I could’ve helped you.”

Jungkook does have a master’s degree in finance. He could’ve been your Rosetta Stone, helping you decipher convoluted questions about taxes and deductions. However, you weren’t sure how he would’ve reacted to you pulling out your laptop post-sex, asking for assistance on something completely unrelated to your normal routine. “That’s not the type of thing we usually do when we’re together,” you shrug, “you know?”

Your response has him shifting in his spot, pierced bottom lip curling inwards like the words made him queasy. He was the one who encouraged you to go back to school in the first place. “I wouldn’t have minded,” Jungkook mumbles before quickly redirecting the dialogue, something he does whenever he’s frustrated or uncomfortable. “So, what’s the special occasion?”

“Huh?”

“What’s got you all dolled up?”

Oh, right. That special occasion. The one you’ve been anticipating since you were made aware of its existence.

“Happy three years sober!” You announce with a cheesy smile, throwing your arms up eagerly.

“Ah,” he huffs in recognition. His eyes are fixed on the road, but there’s the tiniest hint of a smirk on his face. Success. It takes everything in you not to physically rejoice. “I’m surprised you remembered.”

“What do you mean?” You ask with a pout. “How could I forget?”

“I don’t know.” Just like that, the flicker of happiness wisps away like a flame in the wind as his expression turns emotionless and stoic again. “It’s not really a big deal.”

You frown. Must he always be so… cold?

‘It’s okay to smile; you deserve it,’ is what you want to tell him. It's not your place, though. You opt for: “It’s a huge deal, Jungkook,” instead. Reaching over, you gently tuck the stray strand of hair behind his decorated ear.

A somber aura hangs around him like a dark, dreary rain cloud, and in moments like this, when it’s so visible, you just… need to touch him.

It’s stupid to think that you’re the special one; that you’ll be the girl to turn the rain into a rainbow and save him from himself, but you can’t refrain from trying.

“Did you celebrate?”

He shakes his head. “Went to work.”

You can tell from his outfit—a sleek black blazer resting neatly on top of an even darker button-up and tie. His long hair is slicked back, but gravity, and his ten-hour long shift took their toll, making the strands hang slack, short undercut peaking through. He looks so incredibly sexy. Maybe, you can comfort him in the only way you know how…

“Well, there’s still time.” You point to the clock on his touchscreen stereo: 11:12 p.m. You throw your hair over your shoulder before slowly undoing the top two buttons of your shirt, revealing the skimpy black lingerie set you splurged on just for tonight. Just for him. “We can celebrate…”

“Yeah?” His cheek bubbles, tongue poking at the inside of his mouth, eyebrow jumping at your suggestion. “How so?”

You bite your lip, contemplating your next move. Hastily, you unbuckle your seatbelt and lean over the center console. It’s reckless, but so is being with a man like Jungkook. When you finally get to have him the way you want, you’re incapable of rationality.

One night of him isn’t enough. What kind of tease is that? You need at least six more to be satisfied…

“__,” he warns, arching his head away from your sneaky lips. “Put your seatbelt on. Wait until we get to the hotel.”

“Where’s the fun in that, though?” You pout, cupping his cheek in your hand and batting your eyelashes innocently. Jungkook doesn’t take the bait, giving the desolate road ahead his unwavering attention. Despite his nonchalant demeanor, you can tell you’re getting to him. Below you, his slacks tighten around his thick, tensed thighs. He’s playing right into your hands. Needily, you tongue the little silver hoops dangling from his ear.

“If I have to pull over, you’re in trouble.”

“Maybe I-”

A hushed ‘fuck’ cuts you off as the car comes to a screeching halt. Jungkook slams on the brakes, coming too close to the slower vehicle in front of you for comfort. Luckily, his dad reflexes kick in. His strong hand grips your waist tightly, preventing you from barreling forward. You brace yourself by clutching his shoulders, and when the adrenaline rush fades, you finally look at him. His nostrils are flared, and his jaw is clenched painfully tight. He’s pissed.

You know you should apologize, or be a little shaken up, but the blinking of the turn signal as he pulls to the side of the dark highway has your mouth watering. This is just what you wanted.

Jungkook sighs in frustration, tilting his head back against the headrest. The movement is counterintuitive, exposing the inked canvas of his neck that you’re desperate to paint red and purple.

A hand fists your tangled hair, pulling you off with a harsh yank before you have the chance to sink your teeth in. The silver ring on his finger digs into your scalp like a knife. “Do not fucking mark me.”

The feeling of the frigid metal is agonizing. Not physically—his grip loosens immediately after the initial tug—but emotionally. You know why he doesn’t want you to mark him. Any evidence of you, other than your weekly babysitting duties, would unravel the entire life he’s built for himself.

Jungkook is an intelligent man, though. You don’t have to tell him that it’s all a façade, and everything’s already been undone.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice comes out frail and shaky. “I just want you.”

And like some cruel joke, his phone rings.

The contact image would typically make you swoon. It’s a picture of him and his daughter from her first birthday party; her sticky, strawberry ice cream covered hands holding his cheeks as he stares at her with scrunched eyes and a big smile. You think that picture is the only time you’ve ever seen him genuinely happy.

The bold, white font at the top of the screen makes you sick to your stomach.

‘Wife.’

Jungkook releases your hair and places a finger over his mouth, signaling you to shut up, before answering.

“Yes, Seulgi?”

“Your daughter would like to speak to you.”

Her voice makes you want to curl into yourself. Whenever you talk to Seulgi regarding Yul, you’re able to compartmentalize and detach that part of yourself from this one. The one that’s sleeping with her husband. Hearing her in this compromised setting makes you feel absolutely repulsive.

After some rustling and tiny sniffles, Yul answers. “Da-” She only manages a syllable before breaking into a cry-induced coughing fit. You cringe, poor Bunny. “Daddy!”

“What’s wrong with my baby?”

You don’t mean to giggle, especially when the little girl you’ve grown to love so much is clearly distressed, but the intimidating, grumpy, tattooed businessman beside you, talking in full-on pout, tickles your brain just right.

“I don’t wanna sleep alone!” Yul screeches in the most anguished, high-pitched tone.

“Bunny…” With the way his hands scrub down his face, you can tell the tears on the other end are physically affecting him. “Take a deep breath, please.”

There’s a shaky inhale, and a sad whine of an exhale as she tries to steady her respirations.

“Thank you, good job,” he affirms. “Yul, daddy is…” Dark pupils flicker over to you, his face scowled to match. He eyes you like you’re an annoying stain on his leather seat. A dirty little secret that’s keeping him from his daughter. The gesture sends a dagger through your chest. Usually, Jungkook tells his wife he’s working overtime, but he can’t bring himself to lie to his only daughter. “Busy.”

“B-B-But.” The wails have simmered down to a blubber. “Scared.”

“You have mommy, though, don’t you?” He counters exasperatedly, cogs turning at maximum speed to conjure up a solution. “And Ruru?”

Yul is a persistent girl. You’ve seen the two-and-a-half-year-old deadpan Jungkook with a ‘you can have them, then,’ when he tried to convince her that vegetables were delicious and totally not an abomination to tastebuds. “Jeon Ruru is scared, too.”

After a few months of dedication and trust building, Yul finally initiated you into her inner circle of squishmallows, all of which shared the surname, Jeon, followed by whatever random title her baby brain bestowed them. Jeon Ruru, a glass of strawberry milk, was her favorite. You coo in remembrance.

“What about Ado?” Jungkook suggests, exhausting all his options.

“Ado?” She peeps curiously, and you can almost see her doe eyes scanning the room for her runner-up, an avocado squishmallow you gifted her. “Ado’s sleepin’.”

“Can you go get him?”

There’s a long pause of contemplation before the pitter-patter of tiny feet on wood fills the speakers. “Jeon Ado!” She calls out, voice becoming distant as she runs to her bedroom, “daddy wantsa’ talk to you!” You make out a quiet ‘I’ll tuck you in’ when Seulgi helps her to bed. “Okay,” Yul huffs, breathless from her scurry down the long corridor, “he’s here.”

“Jeon Ado.” You rarely see this side of him, and it takes all of your strength to suppress the smile that’s creeping up. “Can you keep Yul safe while I’m away?” He even leans forward a bit, turning his ear towards the speaker as if he’s actually waiting for the stuffed avocado to answer, subconsciously playing along with his daughter despite being miles apart. The scene puts your overwhelmingly sweet perfume to shame. “Uh, Yul, he said yes. So can you sleep in your big girl bed tonight?”

Reluctantly, Yul grumbles in agreement.

“Alright baby, goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

Again, she answers with a little grunt and a yawn.

“I love you.”

“Love youuu!” She extends the vowel for emphasis.

“I love you more.”

There’s a beat of silence before the sleepy girl simply responds ‘yep,’ not even attempting to argue. He glances at you, this time with a wholesome smile, eyes warm with burning stars. It’s moments like this that keep you hooked, you think. Like always, the feeling is short-lived. When Seulgi mumbles a sweet goodnight to her daughter, their daughter, you’re reminded that you shouldn’t even be observing this domestic interaction.

“You know,” the man begins, turning his attention to his wife, “if you had given her a warm bottle, she would’ve gone down without a hitch.”

“Jungkook, she’s too old for a bottle.” And just like that, the fire between them ignites. You’ve never actually witnessed the pair fighting, only felt the uncomfortable heat between them in passing. “And she’s too old to be co-sleeping. She never had an issue sleeping alone beforehand.”

“Alright,” he asserts, “if Yul’s okay, then we’re done here.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little unfair?” Despite his warning, she continues. “Getting her used to sleeping with you and then not being here?”

There were many things about having a daughter that Jungkook wasn’t prepared for.

It’s not that he didn’t do his research, and Yul certainly wasn’t an accident. He had wanted her more than anything. Especially after the…

Incident.

A baby-sized hole was left in Jungkook’s chest. Every day, it grew bigger and bigger until, eventually, that bitter emptiness would’ve swallowed him alive.

Jungkook needed Yul.

Still, there were certain things that parenting books and videos hadn’t warned him about, like the worry in his stomach whenever his daughter refuses her lunch, or the ache in his heart when he drops her off at daycare and she watches him leave through the window with a sad wave and tears rolling down her cheeks as if he’s just abandoned her forever. As if he or his wife aren’t going to pick her up in a mere four hours like they do every Tuesday and Thursday. His readings haven’t prepared him for the even stronger ache that consumes his entire body whenever he leaves for work too early and comes home too late, with barely any time to spend with his favorite person in the world.

Before Yul was even born, Jungkook and Seulgi had decided that co-sleeping was out of the question. Their room was for them, and he stood firm on that principle for a while. However, as time passed, their room became Seulgi’s, and the empty bedroom downstairs became his.

Jungkook couldn’t stand that room.

One night, after a particularly grueling shift, Jungkook trudges up the stairs for a late shower. Without finance talk or Yul’s babbles, he’s left to his own thoughts. Usually, under the scalding water, he wondered how his life turned out this way, or more so, why? This time, Jungkook wonders if there is even a reason to keep going at all.

He catches his reflection while brushing his teeth. His eyes are dark, cold, distant. Those same eyes belong to his daughter, but all he sees when looking into hers is love, innocence, and everything good in life.

Maybe, just maybe, there’s hope for him.

Taking a detour to Yul’s room, Jungkook does his best to quietly tip-toe around squishmallows and discarded markers. Underneath the pink blanket is a little ball of fluffy black hair. She’s got her thumb in her mouth—a bad habit he and Seulgi had been trying to nip in the bud—with her chubby cheeks squished against her pillow. There were few things he hated more than waking her up, especially when she was sleeping so peacefully, but for whatever reason, he couldn’t stop himself.

Tiny, confused cries fill the room as Jungkook scoops her up.

“Shh,” he hushes, smoothing his palm over her onesie-clad back. “It’s just me.”

“Da- ddy?” Immediately, she relaxes at the familiar sound of his voice, words slurred as she rubs the sleep out of her eyes with a little fist before peering up at him with big marble eyes.

“How was daycare, Bunny?”

“Scared,” she whimpers, slumping into his chest for comfort. “Scaredy cat.”

“Scaredy cat?” Jungkook repeats, trying to make sense of the phrase. “Who’s a scaredy cat?”

“Jeon Yul.”

Typically, Jungkook finds it adorable when Yul refers to herself in the third person. The way she says it this time makes him frown. “Jeon Yul is not a scaredy cat. Jeon Yul is a baby, that’s all.” Realizing that she’d probably heard the unfavorable title at daycare, his chest tightens. With a heavy sigh, he rests his chin on top of her round head, swaying back and forth. Her hair smells like green apples from her baby soap. “Why were you scared, sweetheart?”

“No color…”

On his lunch break, Seulgi informed him that she was picking Yul up early. In an attempt to encourage her to engage with other children, the teacher took away Yul’s crayons, sending her into a full-blown tantrum. Jungkook knew his daughter well, a spitting image of him in every capacity. The crayons weren’t the problem; it was that crippling shyness that made her afraid of socializing with nearly anyone other than you and her parents.

Her back ripples with tiny hiccups as she recounts the events. Jungkook decides it’s best to change the subject, not wanting to upset his two-year-old anymore—especially this late at night.

“Guess what?”

Yul grunts an inquisitive noise.

“Daddy got you Baby Shark coloring books.”

Her wispy bedhead bounces as she glances side to side, inspecting her room for any sign of new Pinkfong merchandise. Jungkook was genuinely amazed at her ability to keep track of it all, considering how much he and his wife loved to spoil her rotten. However, the word ‘rotten’ doesn’t even come close to describing his baby. “Where?”

“In my car,” he laughs, slicking her choppy bangs out of her eyes. “We’ll color tomorrow., okay?”

“I like Baby Shark,” Yul says, completely ignoring his question. The teeniest, tiniest, most precious yawn slips out, two little front teeth on full display before her lips smack together sleepily. Truly living up to her nickname.

“I know you do.” He’s still rocking her gently, buying some time before she falls back into sleep’s arms and out of his. “I missed you so much today.”

“Why?”

As of late, ‘why’ seems to be Yul’s favorite word.

Why is the sky blue?

Why do vegetables taste yucky?

Why is daddy’s nose so big?

He’d be lying if he said that last, brutally honest question hadn’t caught him off guard when she first uttered it on his hip at the grocery store.

“Because I love you.” It’s the most effortless sentence he’s ever spoken. The most natural feeling he’s ever felt.

“Why?”

“Because,” his eye roll is disconnected from his growing smile, “you’re so cute!” If they weren’t enclosed by the four pink walls of Yul’s bedroom, Jungkook would be embarrassed at the squeakiness of his usual monotone voice. Leaning down, Jungkook blows a raspberry against her doughy cheek, a tried and true method of making her laugh. “Do you want to sleep in my room?”

It’s against his better judgment and the ground rules he had agreed to, but he just… really needs to spend time with her tonight. The small nod against his chest seals the deal. Before he gets to the door, Yul stops him with an exaggerated gasp.

“Daddy, Ruru!”

“Ruru?”

She grunts, frustrated at her father’s confusion, frantically pointing at her partner in crime, the strawberry milk squishmallow lying neatly underneath her comforter. Just how she left it.

“Yul,” Jungkook starts, taking a few steps backward and bending at the waist, allowing her to take the oversized stuffie into her arms. “Isn’t this Mimi?” As far as Jungkook knows, the pink milk carton with a face had always been Mimi; a name Yul had dubbed it since he brought it home a couple months back.

“Ruru,” she states affirmatively.

And ever since then, Yul’s been a co-sleeper.

Jungkook prided himself on knowing his daughter like the back of his tattooed hand. Whether it’s a sixth sense, some innate father’s instinct that the parenting videos mentioned, or his own attention to detail, he could read her like a book. However, sharing a bed with the tiny human taught him something he had been blissfully unaware of:

Yul sleeps wild.

More often than not, Jungkook was awoken by a tiny foot kicking his back, or by his own reflexes as he was somehow pushed to the very corner of the bed by his twenty-pound baby. There were even a few times when a harsh tug on his hair acted as an alarm clock. When he turned around to confront the culprit, however, she was fast asleep, arm slung over one of the many squishmallows that had worked their way into his room.

Having her with him was worth all bald spots and bruises, though. It’s bad, he knows it, and night by night, Yul becomes more attached. Getting her acclimated to daycare had been hell, to say the least. He knows co-sleeping has possibly made her more reluctant to socialize than she already was.

Still, Jungkook can’t help but wonder who’s more dependent on the other. When he thinks about it, undoubtedly, the answer is him. Because as long as he wakes up to a little foot in his back, a fist in his hair, and the smell of green apple baby soap, he has a reason to keep going.

“Don’t you think she deserves better?”

Her sharp words swipe through the air like a blade. Even you feel the cut, cautiously eyeing Jungkook. You can’t read his expression, but something about it makes you rub a comforting hand over his shoulder. He doesn’t react to your touch at all.

There’s a sullen pause before he finally answers. “I think Yul deserves everything.”

“Right… Goodnight, Jungkook.” She hangs up before he has the chance to respond. Seulgi always struck you as a level-headed person, albeit a bit aloof, but never unfair or cruel. You assume she’s just being spiteful, because anyone who knows Jungkook would never question his dedication to his daughter. That ugly, bitter, jealous side of you thinks maybe she just doesn’t know him the way you do.

“Are you okay?” You whisper as if approaching a wounded animal, ready to attack.

“On Fridays,” he starts, eyes shamefully dropping to his fidgeting hands. “Yul spends the day with my parents.”

His incessant need to defend his parenting makes your heart ache. “Hey, I-”

“She’s usually asleep by the time I leave work.”

“Kook,” you interrupt his rambling. “You don’t have to explain; I understand... I think you’re an amazing father.”

Lifting his head, Jungkook looks you directly in the eyes. His are glassy and gentle now, but the fingers that hook into your lace bra, right between the cups, are rough and abrasive. “C’mere,” he gruffs, pulling you over the center console until you’re uncomfortably sandwiched between his solid chest and the steering wheel. There’s no effort to make room for you; he doesn’t slide his seat back. He doesn’t compromise any of his space for you. You accept it, steadying yourself on his shoulders with a grunt.

Sometimes, you question what your presence in his life truly is. Are you an escape or a punching bag? Are you merely something he can sink his nails and teeth into when angry? Something he can break without consequence? The sound of thread ripping and buttons popping fills the car as he slides the silk off your shoulders, letting the delicate material fall to the floor without a care in the world.

“You wore this for me?” A fingertip lightly traces the petite swell of your breasts, barely bulging over the frilly black cups of your push-up. The sensation sets your skin ablaze.

“Mhm,” you confirm, “I wanted today to be special.”

“You care about me?” Moonlight cuts through the dewy window, beaming against the side of his face, highlighting the taut pull in his features. His question seems genuine, but the answer is obvious, isn’t it? Simply being here with him makes the entire foundation of your soul, all of your morals and beliefs, crumble to pieces. Against your better judgment, you’re still here.

Yearning. Trying. Fighting.

You swipe a thumb over his thick brows, trying to ease the angry crinkle that’s become a permanent fixture on his beautiful face. You comb through his hair. It’s a little knotted, a little crunchy from old gel.

The answer should be obvious, but you don’t think Jungkook could internalize love if it was right in front of him.

“I care about you,” you say truthfully, “a lot.”

The stars in his eyes gleam for a moment, glowing bright and vibrant, before they’re engulfed by the suffocating blackness of his pupils.

“You poor thing,” Jungkook tuts, trailing his fingers up your neck before grasping your jaw with a single hand. The baby fat of your cheeks mushes together from the force. “You're gonna let me do whatever I want to you, aren't you?”

The tone of his voice has your heart fluttering and your stomach churning with thick hot desire. Gripping his wrist with both hands, you moan out a ‘yes,’ unconsciously grinding down onto his slack-covered bulge. He’s barely touched you yet and your cunt is leaking, making a mess of your itty bitty thong and his work suit.

“Right, of course.” With the same hand holding you, Jungkook taps his index finger against your glossy pout, “open.” Just barely parting your lips, you let the thick digit slide between them. Immediately, he presses down against your tongue, trying to coax a gag out of you. “What if I want to fuck this pretty little mouth until you cry? How does that sound? Would you like that?”

Inhaling deeply, you nod. That sounds absolutely perfect.

“I don’t know if you can handle it, though,” he lulls, retracting his finger before plunging it back in, all the up to his inked knuckle. You squint in defiance. He’s teasing, but you can’t fight the tinge of anger in your chest. If there’s one thing you can do, it’s suck a mean dick. Looking him directly in the eyes, you swirl your tongue against his palm with ease, not choking once. You feel his cock twitch against the supple flesh of your inner thigh.

Unamused by your antics, Jungkook yanks his hand back angrily, making a string of saliva drip down your chin. Maybe a full face of makeup wasn’t the best idea. “Get in the backseat,” he orders huskily, wiping the damp skin on his blazer. Biting back a smirk, you climb off his lap and wriggle over the center console. You situate yourself on the cool leather, laying down and assuming face-fuck position.

The yellow glow of headlights swims across the ceiling as a passing car drifts down the misty highway. This is the first time in five months that you and Jungkook are out in the open, blissfully oblivious to the possibility of getting caught. It’s childish, but you hope someone sees. For a moment in time—in a wandering eye’s glimpse of reality—you’re his and he's yours.

“Couldn’t wait until we got to the hotel, huh?” Jungkook huffs when he opens the door. Giddily, you lean your head back over the edge of the seat, coming face to face with the tent in his pants. His hands frantically work to unbuckle his belt, desperate to bury himself inside of you. His favorite escape. “Well, since you want to act like a fucking whore-” his pants fall to his knees with a clang when he unbuttons them, “-I’ll treat you like one.”

“Please,” you whimper, noting the wet spot on his gray Calvin Kleins. Reaching up, you lightly drag your nails across it, teasingly pinching the head of his cock before he tugs his boxers down. A big greedy smile spreads across your face as his semi springs out.

The sight makes your lips part. It’s so pretty. Something about how the moonlight catches the glowy pink tip, peeking out from under his foreskin. The light accentuates every ridge and vein on his girthy shaft. So yummy it has you drooling-

Jungkook’s right. You’re a complete and utter whore.

“Is this what you wanted?” He peers down at you over his prominent nose, one hand clutching the roof of his Mercedes. The other wraps around his thick shaft, giving it a few languid pumps, getting himself fully erect for you. Teasingly, he taps the head against your plump lips. Unable to resist, you press a sweet peck and a kitten lick to his silky frenulum. “Uh-uh,” he chuckles, raising his delicious cock just beyond your reach. “You know better than that. Ask for permission.”

“Wanna suck it,” you pout, squirming impatiently. “Please?”

Suddenly, his heavy cock slaps your cheek with a wet thud.

“Please, what?”

“Please, sir?”

“Good girl.” The praise is contradicted by another light smack to your face, this time with an open palm. Taking the hint, you open your mouth wide, tongue sticking out in anticipation. Jungkook watches you intently with furrowed brows and a slack jaw as he feeds you the first few inches. As soon as the salty flavor of his arousal hits your tastebuds, you moan obnoxiously, back arching off the leather beneath you.

He starts slowly, using your breathing to guide his movements—pausing on the exhales and giving you a bit more on the inhales. He does this until the entirety of his length is shoved down your warm, wet mouth.

The hem of his black dress shirt flows over you, obstructing his view. He places it between his teeth with an annoyed groan, wanting to watch the swell in your neck as you swallow him like a snake. “You take it so well,” he grunts over the material, “the best I’ve ever had.”

Tears clinging to your lashes finally lose grip, trickling down your skin until they get lost in the thick, dark swoops of your dangling hair. For once, you mean something more to him than she does. It’s insignificant and shameful, but at least it's something.

“Are you okay, __?” Jungkook asks, sensing the shift as your soul splays before him like your half-naked body. Stepping back, he gives you some reprieve.

With red eyes and drool bubbling at the corners of your lips, you moan out an implied ‘yes.’ His confession has you on cloud nine.

“Do you remember the sign?”

Again, you hum.

“Can you show me?”

Lazily, you tap his outer thigh three times, a hard ‘stop’ symbol you had agreed upon months ago while hanging off the edge of a hotel bed, preparing for Jungkook to fuck your mouth for the very first time.

“Good girl,” he says before rutting his entire length into you again. He’s so deep that the soft skin of his scrotum nudges against the tip of your nose, and the dense patch of trimmed hair on his pubic bone tickles your chin. Reaching down, Jungkook grips your neck, reveling in the feeling of it stretching against his palm as he moves in and out steadily.

Eventually, he hunches over, hands wandering down and holding your temples for better leverage. Despite the harsh digs of his hips, his delicate fingers brush away a few strands of hair stuck to your damp cheeks. The sweet gesture makes you whimper around him in pure ecstasy, moving your head to meet his thrusts for extra stimulation, circling your flat tongue around the base.

The whistles of the midnight breeze and the murmur of passing cars fade, and all you hear is Jungkook. The melodic, venomous praises pouring out of him poison your mind with optimism. He takes one last plunge, so powerful it sends you sliding back against the seat. To steady yourself, you grip his legs, attempting to ease your triggered gag reflex. He holds you there, cock stuffed to the brim as he slams a hand against the black steel of his car, shirt falling from his teeth as he moans ardently. You gasp when he finally pulls out, leaking tip still connected to you by a bridge of spit and precum.

“Why-” Cough. “Why did you stop?”

Your question is met with only the sound of rustling fabric and the chime of his hanging belt buckle as he removes his suit jacket and throws it into the passenger seat. Grabbing you by the band of your lingerie, Jungkook hauls your frame closer.

He snaps your taut bra strap against your shoulder with a single finger. “Take this off.”

“O-Okay,” you stutter, still trying to catch your breath as you sit up at the waist and unclip your bra. A shiver runs down your spine as the cool night air licks your exposed chest. This time when you lie down, you’re positioned under his spread legs. He stands over you with such authority and dominance. The underside view of his hard cock looks absolutely menacing.

“These,” Jungkook’s large palms grab at your tits, jiggling them, “I wanna fuck ‘em.”

“There isn’t anything for you to fuck,” you giggle.

After years of insecurity, and crying over vengeful comments from dumb boys you had broken things off with, you finally came to terms with your appearance. Your tits are small, and that’s okay. Plus, the cute little nipple piercings you had gotten a while back were definitely a confidence booster. There wasn’t an ounce of self-hatred in your comment.

Jungkook doesn’t take it that way, though.

“Shut up.” With a huff, he steps back and hunches, reaching down to deliver a harsh swat to your cheek. It was a little rougher than usual, and you wince upon impact. Instantly, he soothes the skin with a gentle pet. “Your tits are… perfect.”

Perfect? Your cheeks and aching pussy heat up at the compliment.

Squeezing your chest, Jungkook brushes his thumbs over your pebbled nipples. He pays extra attention to the silver barbells, decorated with little sparkly peaches at the ends. “These are new,” he notes, tugging on the jewelry. You let out a breathy moan, legs clenching together, inner thighs embarrassingly wet. “Sheesh,” he laughs, “someone’s sensitive.”

“Yeah… keep going.”

“I like them. They’re cute on you.”

Throughout your acquaintances, Jungkook was rarely this vocal. Maybe some praise sprinkled in here and there, but seldom anything substantial. Tonight, however, he’s been dishing out sweet talk like candy. You can’t pinpoint precisely what, but something’s changed.

Whatever it is, it fills you with awful, wishful hope.

Jungkook shuffles closer, teasing the teat of your pierced bud with his sticky tip. The dreamy sensation has your eyes rolling back into your skull. A glob of spit drops between the valley of your breasts before he spreads the wetness over your skin with his shaft. He has to use a death grip to force your tits into a soft plushness, perfect for him to slot himself into. Again, you feel that fucking ring embedding itself into your skin like a nasty tick.

Cautiously, he guides his pulsing cock between your constrained breasts. A beautiful symphony of groans lulls out as he throws his head back in pleasure, long locks dancing along his clammy neck.

“You like that?” You hum, taunting him. “Tell me how it feels.”

It takes him a minute to collect his thoughts, eyes trained on your tits pillowing around him, focusing on the dewy sheen of your nipples and chest as his oozing cock spills onto your skin. “It feels-” his hips stutter, “-so fucking good.”

The way his teeth snarl around the hushed curse makes you smile, eyes closing as you relish in his pleasure. Maybe you’re too horny, or perhaps the blood rushing to your head from being upside down for so long is making you crazy, but you wish you could live in this moment forever. Wallowing in the darkness, frozen in time with him. Yeah, you think, that would be wonderful.

“You can touch yourself,” he comments, spotting your clenched legs, desperate for some pressure.

“S’okay,” you mumble, reaching around to caress his balls. His thighs tremble a bit against your arms. “Just wanna make you feel good.”

“Can you-” he grunts, stomach clenching as he begins to feel that familiar pooling in the base of his thick shaft. “Hold them for me. I’ll take care of you after, just- let me cum.”

Obliging, you replace his hands with your own, squishing your tits together for him. The visual of you lying under him, complacent and willing, sends him spiraling. A guttural roar echoes throughout the empty road as he speeds up. “Tighter,” he orders; you listen. The saliva and precum are beginning to rub off, making the friction of his chaotic thrusts sting your skin. He notices, letting another string of spit fall from his mouth onto your flesh. “Be good and take it. I’m almost there.”

By now, Jungkook should know you’d endure any pain to be with him.

The darkest parts of your brain tell you he’s well aware of that fact.

After a few more humps and lulled words of encouragement, he’s bursting at the seams. Just before he blows, Jungkook steps back, tight fist jerking himself frantically as he spills his seed onto your chest. Your eyes dart from his angry cock to his fucked out expressions. The moonlight shines behind him like a glowing aura as he finishes with a scrunched nose and his tongue between his teeth. He looks angelic. You moan under him, flinching when a stray spurt lands on your chin.

Fucked out and dazed, he laughs softly, running a hand through his hair as his chest heaves. Collecting the liquid with his finger, he brings it to your giggling lips. The taste makes you hum as you lazily begin rubbing his cum all over your tits.

“Really?” He asks with a raised eyebrow. “You’re already starting?”

“Starting what?” You pout, batting your lashes at him and circling your nipple lightly with the tip of your nail, trying your best to look oblivious and innocent. Well, as innocent as you possibly can while literally covered in sperm.

“Don’t play dumb. You know what you’re doing.”

See, in many ways, Jungkook is different from any other guy you’ve been with prior. For one, you didn’t meet via horny messages on Tinder at 1 a.m. For two, he’s older, meaning he’s much more intelligent and much more experienced. After years and years of honing in on his craft, he just knows how to fuck. Jungkook is one of the rare few penis-havers in the world who can orgasm back to back; no refractory period necessary. Truly a hidden gem.

To put it simply, the man is a fucking faucet—one that you can turn off and on whenever you want.

As if on cue, Jungkook twirls his inked finger, indicating for you to turn around. The other hand squeezes his cock just below the crown to cut off circulation, keeping himself erect. With that, your white converses are planted flat onto the sparse grass as you bend over the back seat, leaning your weight on your elbows.

It's like whiplash when Jungkook's aggressive persona drops, and he's running his hands all over your body. Up your thighs, over your back, down your arms. He blooms petal-soft kisses on your bare shoulder before whispering in your ear. “Can I go in like this? Or do you need some foreplay?”

“This is fine,” you murmur, jarred by his sudden tenderness. “Perfect, actually.”

With a hushed ‘alright,’ Jungkook reaches over you to rummage through the pocket of his discarded blazer. A heavy sigh escapes your lips as he pulls out a square foil packet. Condoms were an unwavering constant in your weekend escapades. Jungkook always wears condoms. Normally, that would be a great thing; however, in this situation, it’s like a stab to the heart…

Because if he’s adamant about using protection with you, then that means he’s still sleeping with her, doesn’t it? And it’s not like you can even ask or scold him about it. She’s his wife, after all. You’re the outsider.

Jungkook hooks his thumb into your panties and pulls them aside. Your glistening folds are on full display, waiting to get pounded mercilessly right on the side of the road. He shoves three digits into your mouth, letting your drool on them a bit before pressing them to your wet cunt. Opening your folds with his index and ring fingers, he lightly dips the middle inside you. He collects some arousal and spreads it to your clit in feathery flicking motions. You cry out, feeling the shocks of a blossoming orgasm.

“Already dripping, I see.” You can practically hear his cocky, satisfied grin as he stands straight and rolls the condom down his length. “Always so sensitive.”

“Mhm,” you nod frantically, “I always get like this with you.”

“I know you do.” Pulling a cheek to the side, Jungkook cards his sheathed tip through your entrance, making sure to nudge under your clitoral hood with every swipe. Lewd wet sounds ring in your ears as he tortures your hole relentlessly.

“Kook,” you huff, reaching back to dig your manicured, almond-shaped nails into his skin. “Just put it in!”

Suddenly, Jungkook slams your torso onto the leather. In one swift motion, he’s catching your wrists, pinning them both to your lower back with a single hand.

“I’ll give you what you want just-” releasing the back of your neck, he spanks you so hard you recoil, “be patient.”

Despite his words, you wait no longer than a minute before he’s guiding his dreamy member right where you want it. Jungkook always gives in quickly. How could he not when you’re ass up, face down, and practically begging? As he sinks into you, and you feel that familiar burn from the initial stretch, your eyes roll back, mouth opening around a silent scream.

Usually, Jungkook likes to overwhelm you with his entire length all at once. There’s some hesitation this time as he slides in only halfway before stopping. Too much hesitation for your liking. You’re confident he’s testing you. Your assumption is verified when he speaks in that annoying, condescending voice.

“If you want it so bad, come get it.”

“You’re so,” breaking free from his grasp, you press your palms into the seat and lift yourself up with a grumble, “infuriating.”

He hums halfheartedly, head dropping to watch you work yourself onto him. Only a single stroke in, and he can already see you coating him in a shiny, milky dew. “So fucking wet…”

“Can’t help it,” you peep, taking him to the hilt and circling your hips, trying to savor the feeling. You’re no stranger to his cock; how good it makes you feel. You spend every Friday night bathing in that pleasure, forgoing parties and hangouts with your best friends for a romp in the five-star hotel sheets with Jungkook. Still, you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to commit his touch to memory. Perhaps, despite your denial, you recognize that this is temporary. Deep down, you know that someday, all you’ll have left of him is a tragic echo. “I love the way you make me feel.”

“Me too,” he gasps, guiding your movements as his fingers dig into your hips. Clearly interpreting your admission differently than you had meant it. “Your pussy’s like heaven.”

High on praise and drunk on the sounds you’re coaxing out of him, you whine, dragging your cunt up every inch of his throbbing length before slamming back. Hopefully, the dense forest behind you is enough to insulate the pornographic wails ripping through you. Even if someone somewhere hears, you can’t bring yourself to give a damn. Not when heady pleasure and adrenaline course through your veins like blood.

Just when you’re about to collapse, arms giving out underneath you, Jungkook grabs you by the neck and holds you flush against his toned chest. “Don’t you run,” he chuckles. The low baritone rumble goes straight to your clit. His warm breath gusts over your skin, contrasting the chilly night air. “Don’t give up on me.”

He’s pounding into you now, choking you tighter than he ever has, but he pecks you so delicately. Lips barely ghosting over the shell of your ear. So gentle and tender. As tears stream down your cheeks for the second time tonight, you can’t help but feel there’s a hidden meaning behind his words.

“What’s wrong?” He smirks, tilting your face, wanting you to look him in the eye as you fall apart. The visual nearly makes you combust. His stringy hair is sticking to his cheeks, flushed from exertion. Even the tattoos littering the expanse of his neck are splotched pink and red. Twisting in his hold, you grab a fistful of his damp waves, fingers tickling his short undercut. “What do you want, baby?”

“Cum…”

“You wanna cum?”

“Please, please, please.” Weak whimpers punch out of you in tandem with his brutal thrusts.

“What do you say?”

“Please, sir?”

“Good girl,” he rewards you with a smack to your sensitive clit, “you can cum. I’ve got you.”

And with his permission, you’re cumming. Your legs shake violently as you’re overcome with blinding, electric gratification. If it wasn’t for Jungkook’s strong arms supporting you, you would’ve toppled face-first into the seat. He fucks you through the height of your orgasm; hips never ceasing, even when everything becomes so intense and sensitive that your body instinctively tries to push him away. He watches your face intently, reading your expressions to ensure he’s milked every last drop of your orgasm before he lets you fall onto the leather.

Even in your hazy state, you catch the breathy string of curses, a telltale sign of his own impending orgasm. “Fuck!” He groans, removing the condom to paint your ass and lower back in hot, white ropes.

It’s funny, really.

He refuses to cum with you or inside you, something so intimate and special, but he has no qualms cumming on you. It’s almost like he’s marking you, burning himself into your flesh. Consuming a piece of you every time your bodies come together as one.

And all the while, his mind is somewhere else as his body swallows you alive.

“Look at you,” Jungkook laughs, smoothing a palm up and down your spine, rubbing his semen into your skin the same way you had earlier. “I’ve made a mess out of you.”

That’s true in more ways than one…

Lost in post-nut clarity, your brain barely registers Jungkook maneuvering you both into the car. Closing the door behind him, he moves you onto his lap, your back pressed against his sweaty button-up. Peering down, you see his slacks and boxers still around his ankles, black dress shoes poking out underneath. You’re in only a thong and sneakers, and your makeup is definitely melted. The two of you must look like the biggest sluts ever.

“What’s so funny?” Jungkook mutters, noticing your delirious giggles.

“Oh, nothing,” you hum, leaning into him. Habitually, he wraps both of his inked arms around your middle. You despise how incredibly natural and serendipitous it feels, almost like you’re meant to be in them.

God __, get your head out of the clouds and return to Earth.

Life isn’t a romance novel, and you’re not a child anymore. You shouldn’t see the world as quartz-colored and magical. The man is seven years older than you. He has a wife and child. Logistically, it could never, ever work…

But if soulmates exist as they do in the books, you wish on every falling star that Jungkook is yours.

“What are you thinking about?” You coo softly, turning your head to stare into the abyss of his infinite eyes.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, he can’t resist lowering his sinful hand to your most private area, cupping your sex unabashedly. “I want more.”

“You always want more.”

“So do you,” he laughs, pointing out the way you grind into his touch. Nuzzling into your shoulder, he nips your skin and then soothes his tongue over it like an insincere apology. “Just one more time, okay?”

You nod, head leaning back on his shoulder as you succumb to his skilled fingers, rubbing your clit in tight circles. Jungkook pauses in contemplation before popping his glistening fingers into his mouth. When the taste hits his tongue, his face contorts. He even moans dreamily like you’re the most delicious dessert he’s experienced. The scene has your own brows furrowing, lips parting at just how hot and bothered he’s got you.

Sensually, he trails the wet pads down, ghosting over a nipple, teasing you on their treacherous journey to your waiting core. He slides them in your wet cunt seamlessly, curling right into your g-spot. They move in a dip and wave that drives you wild, a wet suction noise sounding in the enclosed space. Turned on by your purrs and mewls, Jungkook subtly ruts against you, his plumping cock sliding between your cheeks.

“You’re already close, aren’t you?” He tuts patronizingly. “Gonna cum around my fingers, sweetheart?”

“No…”

“No?”

“Wanna cum with you…”

He stops, realizing what you’re alluding to, before pulling his fingers out and tapping your clit gently. “There’s another condom in my pocket. Can you hand it to me?”

“We don’t need it.”

“Yes, we do. Don’t be foolish.”

“... I’m on the pill,” you suggest hesitantly. Once again, you’re nothing but stupid and irresponsible when it comes to Jungkook. You just want to be with him, that’s all.

“__,” he starts, voice shadowed with sternness, “give me the condom.”

Realizing he won’t budge, you do as he asks and fish it from his blazer, watching idly as he goes through all the steps—stroking himself to full mass, rolling on a barrier, and then positioning you between his spread legs as he guides you down onto his length with a hand on your hip.

Cyclical.

Like clockwork, your jaw drops, eyes screwing shut as you let him invade your space and infiltrate your mind. You don’t believe the two of you have ever tried this position before, but it feels so fucking good. His cock is so deep you can feel it in your fucking stomach. It’s obvious from his groaning and the aggressive spank he gives you that the unexplored angle is affecting him too.

Outside, light rain begins chiming against the steel roof of his car as you take the first shallow rise of your hips.

Scratch everything you’ve said about this not being a romance novel.

Distracted by the calming sound, you thoroughly miscalculate how much space you have in his sleek Mercedes Benz and bonk your head on the ceiling.

“Ow,” you wince with an embarrassed giggle.

Hissing at the impact, Jungkook clutches your head, massaging the area gently. “Are you okay?” His voice is muffled, and you can tell he’s trying his best not to laugh.

“It’s not funny!” You shout playfully, slapping his knee.

“No, it’s not. I’m sorry.” Chuckling, he moves your hair and places a gentle kiss between your shoulder blades. “You’re cute, that's all.”

Cute? You swoon.

“Alright baby, keep going. Don’t stop,” Jungkook orders, the heel of his calloused palms pushing at your ass, encouraging you to bounce on his needy cock. A fucked-out sigh escapes him, head falling back for a split second before it jerks back up again, not wanting to miss the view of your perky cheeks rippling as they collide with his solid pelvis. “This position is so sexy.” Overwhelmed, he doesn’t know where to put his hands. He chokes you for a moment, plays with your tits, swats them, grabs your hips, and then finally settles on your clit, flicking it like a light switch.

“Jungkook!” You wail, knees knocking together as you brace yourself. Men you’ve dated in the past struggled to get you off. Sure, they made you feel good, but they couldn’t quite bring you to the edge. It only ever took Jungkook a matter of minutes to have you whimpering and shaking, begging for release. “I can’t take so much! I can’t!”

Ignoring your pleas, Jungkook pilots your right arm around his shoulder, sending you flush against his frame once more. Dipping his head, he sucks the closest nipple into his mouth. Caught off guard, you’re so overstimulated that your hips come to a grinding halt.

“Move,” he commands with his lips sealed around your piercing, sending dizzying vibrations to your sensitive bud.

“I can’t,” you whimper, back arching off his chest as you try to calm all five tingling senses.

“Yes, you can.”

“No…”

Jeon Jungkook was never one to take no for an answer.

Scooting further down the seat, his large hands clasp behind your knees. He lifts your legs until the heels of your white sneakers are on either side of the driver’s headrest. In this new position, he’s able to pound up into you freely, relentlessly beating into clenching walls. Hitting every single delicious spot inside of you. “Jungkook, please!”

“Please, what?” Honestly, you have no clue what you’re begging for. All you know is that his mushroom tip rigorously stimulating your g-spot is going to have you gushing at any moment. His guttural, sensual groaning does nothing to slow your approaching orgasm. “You want more?”

As if you weren’t already gasping for air, Jungkook raises your legs to your head, knees locked onto his inner elbows. His fingers intertwine behind your neck, thumbs pressing into the base of your throat as he folds you in half.

A full fucking nelson.

“Watch me fuck it.” With a stern grip, he forces your gaze to his thick shaft, sliding in and out of your sopping cunt. Your vision is watery, but you can clearly see just how turned on you are, creamy juices coating his entire shaft. “Open it, baby. Watch what I do to you.”

Reaching both hands under your thighs, you spread your lips, getting a better look at him completely destroying you.

“Isn’t it so pretty?” Jungkook grunts, speech slurred as his arousal lulls him into a delirious, catatonic state. “Tell me what you see, baby.”

“So pretty, Kook.” You’re simply playing into his dirty talk, but the sight of your bodies connecting, becoming one, is profoundly gorgeous. “So wet…”

“Yeah? Who’s pussy is this?”

“Yours.”

That sends him into a frenzy, thrusts becoming so punctuated and violent that his cock accidentally slips out.

“Put it back in, put it back in!” You chant, frantically shoving his length into you. The yelp you chortle out is accompanied by the sound of your hand smacking against the foggy car window as your climax engulfs you. “I love it!”

“I love yo-”

He quickly cuts himself off, but everything stops when the sentence fragment hits the air.

Is your brain playing sick, twisted jokes on you… or was he really just about to say he loved you?

Before you can even process what’s happening, your biological responses take over, sending through the most earth-shattering, world-bending, mind-boggling orgasm you’ve ever had. Everything goes blank. Your eyes cloud with splotches and stars. Your ears ring with static and white noise, blurring the sound of Jungkook cumming underneath you, and the pouring rain outside, splashing against concrete.

This time, he doesn’t pull out, just works through both of your orgasms with gentle ruts and vulnerable whimpers.

After you’ve both calmed down and your heaves have diminished to a slow, even pattern, he pulls out, crumpling the used condom into a loose napkin he found in the center console. Still on his lap and in his arms, you watch intently as Jungkook leans his head back, eyes closing as he inhales deeply. To you, he looks almost… peaceful.

The moon trickles in through the thin streams on the window, reflecting on his face like stained glass—something that was once so clear and pure now jaded with somber shades of blue. Sad, but still beautiful, you think.

Delicately, you trace a finger over the black ink decorating his skin. You sit silently for a while, basking in the comfortable aura, simply enjoying one another’s company, before you finally speak.

“Why this?” You peep, pointing to the dainty letters at the base of his neck.

“It’s my daughter’s name.” He counters playfully, the faintest hint of a smile on his pierced lips.

“Well, duh, I know that,” you roll your eyes with a giggle, “but why here?”

“Yul is like air to me.”

Humming in contemplation, you continue your journey over the endless swirls and loops. During sex, the first three buttons of his shirt popped open, exposing the canvas of his chest. You feel a thick, dark cloud loom over you when you reach a certain tattoo, the one that’s plagued your mind ever since you first saw it.

Another name is engraved right above his heart in the same delicate font as Yul’s:

Seol.

“Yul, please. Enough.” If Jungkook had a dollar for every time he's said that in the last twenty-two minutes, he’d be nearly as rich as his boss, sitting directly in front of him on a very important Zoom call. “Daddy is working.”

Jumping at the sudden inflection of his voice, the little girl on his lap pulls her tiny hand away. For the most part, Yul was well-behaved. However, working from home proved to be an obstacle that he and his clingy toddler have yet to overcome.

She’s interrupted his meeting three times already. First, cutting off his proposal with the Baby Shark theme song, blaring from her Pinkfong tablet that he’d forgotten to mute. Second, peeking above his desk with her space buns and doe eyes to show his colleagues the latest addition to her squishmallow collection. The last straw was when she squeezed his nose.

With watery eyes and warbled lips, Yul blinks at Jungkook, heartbroken and confused as to why he didn’t make that funny noise she loves so much. Quickly, her gaze averts to her chunky legs, swinging aimlessly as she attempts to hold back the tears.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Jungkook sighs, tacking on an apology before turning his screen off. “Bunny,” he lifts her chin with his index finger, another palm flat on her protruding tummy, “please, don’t cry. You’re not in trouble. Daddy just-”

The ring of a doorbell interrupts him.

“__?” Jungkook questions, baby at his hip as he stands in the doorway before you. “What are you doing here?”

You gulp. You weren’t expecting to see him.

Usually, you spoke to Seulgi. You’ve only ever seen Jungkook in passing, sparing quick greetings before he’s out the door. It worked in your favor, really, because for whatever reason, you felt extremely awkward around him.

Almost like that gross nervousness you get when you’re around someone you find so incredibly attractive it makes you uncomfortable…

Maybe it’s because he’s covered in tattoos and piercings. Maybe it’s because he’s a dad. Your group of fellow horny twenty-something-year-old friends have told you mythical stories and fantasies about older men. Freshly turned thirty-year-old men. Men like Jungkook. Dilfs. Something about that potent dad nut… Like, you know it works.

It’s inappropriate; you know it is. You’ve always tried your best to ignore the feral thoughts.

Today seems to be putting your mental strength to the test because Jungkook is dressed in baggy gray sweats, long dark hair slicked back into a ponytail. A few loose strands dangle devilishly in front of his eyes, taunting you.

“I-It’s 10… I’m supposed to be babysitting.”

“I’m working from home today. My wife didn’t tell you?”

With wide eyes and hot cheeks, you shake your head. “I’m sorry for bothering you,” you stutter, stepping back and preparing to make a mad dash to your hand-me-down Honda Civic. “I’ll just… be on my way then.”

“Actually.” An icy grip on your wrist stops you. “I could use some help. This one-” he nods his head towards Yul, stuck to him like velcro, “-is being a bit needy today.”

One look at her turns your flustered gape into a smile. The past month with her has been more difficult than you’d imagined. Yul was incredibly sweet and intuitive, but unbearably shy. Building a relationship with the girl was challenging, but you were determined to overcome it. “No way,” you frown animatedly, tickling her leg with the tip of your finger, “Yul would never.”

A giggle or two had been the goal. Instead, she buries her face into her father’s shoulder.

“Don’t take it personally,” Jungkook orders, noticing the defeated slump in your shoulders. “She’s always like this with new people.”

Seulgi had warned you that Yul would take a while to come around. Hopefully, it’ll happen organically. But for now, a little gift or two wouldn’t hurt your efforts, you supposed last night while running errands. Reaching into your purse, you pull out a bottle of non-toxic, baby-friendly nail polish. “Yul, look what I have!”

“Wow,” Jungkook plays along, gently nudging her head out of his neck. “Bunny, look!”

He calls her Bunny?

You’re in for it now.

Plump fingers wrap around the plastic, taking it out of your own with an awe-stricken stare. She holds it up right in front of Jungkook’s nose. “Pink.”

“Mhm, that’s right,” he confirms, pecking her temple. “Now, Daddy has to get back to work. Can you stay with __ for a bit?”

She looks at him, then at you, then at him again, then back at you, and finally, landing on the nail polish, giving her father a reluctant nod. You knew it would come in handy. Despite her agreeance, Yul still stretches the neck of his shirt with her tiny fists as she’s transferred into your arms.

Somehow, you managed to survive that painfully awkward encounter…

Only to be thrown into another one immediately after.

See, you’ve always known Yul was a daddy’s girl. On good days, the toddler would grab you by the hand and guide you around the house, giving you a tour of everything that belonged to her father. His shoes at the door. His coat on the hook. Even taking you into the bathroom to show you his shampoo bottle. But that fact was never more apparent than now, as Yul stands in the middle of the living room on the verge of tears.

“Daddy?”

“He’s working, sweetheart. Remember?” You coo on your knees in front of her. You’re quick to redirect her. “I like your shoes.”

The sniffles stop as she glances down at her white sneakers. “Mine…” she takes a hesitant step back, mistaking your compliment as an attempt to swindle her out of them.

“That’s right,” you laugh, “they’re so pretty, just like you.”

She blinks at you for a moment, and then begins stomping her little foot: heel first. When she’s finally able to kick off her left shoe, she bends all the way over, pressing her palms flat against the hardwood floor. It’s the most uncoordinated way you’ve ever seen anyone pick something up.

Without warning, Yul throws the shoe across the room. Well, that had been her intention, you assume. She had cocked her arm back too far and released too early, making it land behind her.

Oh no, she hates you.

With an excited grunt and a bounce, Yul points to the sneaker—its clear sole sparkling pink and purple.

“Oh,” you sigh in relief. “They light up?”

“Yesh.” Plopping right onto her butt, she takes the other one off, repeating the process. “Like this!” Her arms stretch out and she clenches her two little front teeth, executing the most stellar charade of a light you’ve ever seen.

It’s a small breakthrough, but you’ll take it.

Then you paint her nails, just like you said you would. She’s as patient as a toddler could be, but her tiny toe keeps curling under the tickle of the brush, making pink polish bleed outside of the lines.

“My goodness,” you groan, admiring the messy, albeit adorable, result. “You’re so cute! Wait until your dad sees you.”

Yul shrieks wildly, smacking both hands over her mouth as she hobbles to her feet. You watch with confused giggles as the milk-drunk baby stumbles down the corridor. You figure out where she's going too late.

Yul stands on her tippy toes, jumping to click open the door to Jungkook’s office with a loud creak.

“Yul!” You whisper-shout. “Don’t-”

“Daddy!” She calls, stepping a single foot into the room, showing off the fresh paint job. “So cute!”

Literally, your only job today was to keep Yul preoccupied while Jungkook worked, and you failed. Your breath catches in your throat, awaiting his response.

“So pretty,” he gasps, “now go play, baby. I’m almost done.”

A relieved exhale flies past your lips.

Something you’ve picked up on from years of babysitting is that little girls aren’t allowed to compliment themselves. They’re always told it’s rude or conceited. Jungkook does neither, and you find that so refreshing.

“Close the door, please,” he orders before she runs away, “gently.” Yul does her very best to shut the door quietly and then sprints back to you.

The next few hours go smoothly. You discovered that the green-hating toddler has an affinity for avocados after giving her a bite of your toast. “Mmm!” She had hummed, looking at you with wide eyes. With a full belly and squishmallow in hand, Yul went out like a light for her afternoon nap, giving you time to catch up on some reading.

“How was she?” You didn’t even hear him come out of his office, so the deep voice makes you jump, eyes tracking the sound. He’s leaning against a kitchen counter, one tattooed hand stuffed in his pocket and the other wrapped around a water bottle. It’s a thick one too, and his fingers still touch.

“Better,” you cough, “she’s sleeping now.”

He hums halfheartedly, dark irises boring into you as he takes a sip. Without Yul to soften the edges, Jungkook is… intimidating, to say the least. “What are you reading?”

“The Catcher in the Rye…” you peep, quickly closing it. “I know, it’s kinda lame.”

“No, not lame at all. Anyone who thinks that is lying to themselves… or is just being a contrarian.” He leans his elbows against the dark granite island, fingers crossing as he stares at you. You’re sitting idle across the room, but his presence looms over you. He has this way of making you feel like he’s in your head, listening to everything you’re thinking.

You pray he’s not. If he is, you'll definitely be fired.

“I can’t tell which one you are yet.”

You can’t tell if he’s joking or not, but the ‘yet’ makes you come clean, shifting in your spot on the leather couch. “... Both.”

“Right,” he smirks, tongue fiddling with his lip ring, almost like he’s taunting you. “That’s one of my favorite books, actually. I relate to it in many ways.”

Your fingers dance across the red cover, concealing hundreds of pages of isolation, emptiness, and the heavy dread of passing time. What an awful thing to relate to. Sometimes, when you get too engrossed in the text, glimmers of yourself bleed within the lines too.

“You’re an English major, right?”

“Oh, um, I’m not in school at the moment… I just read for fun.”

“Well, you have an Associate’s degree.” Him knowing that information about you makes you think he asked the previous question with the intention of baiting you into this conversation. “Why not get your Bachelor’s?”

“I don’t know. It’s… complicated.”

Why is he interrogating you? What does he want? For you to confess that the fear of becoming a full-fledged adult makes you not want to go back to college?

“Life is complicated. You’d be ridiculous to not go back.” The audacity should make you mad, but he speaks with so much authority that you’re dumbfounded. His head tilts, eyes squinting as they shift to the ceiling, debating something. His tongue clicks when he finally makes his decision. “Follow me; I have something I want to show you.”

With the curl of two thick fingers, Jungkook calls you to follow him down the hallway. You blink for a moment, gushing at the suggestive motion of his hand. Shaking your head at the evil, intrusive thought, you rise to your feet.

Just like a child, you have to skip to catch up to his long strides. Your gaze trails along white walls; there are pictures of him and Yul, Yul and Seulgi, but not a single one of them all together.

Now that you think about it, any affection you’ve ever seen in the household was reserved for Yul and Yul only. Seems like trouble in paradise…

You shouldn’t speculate.

The heavy wooden door creaks as Jungkook holds it open for you. You’re not sure what you expected his room to look like, but it certainly wasn’t this. The rest of the house is pretty modern, consisting of sleek blacks, whites, and woods. Countertops designed with icy swirled marble. Everything has this cold, impersonal vibe, but this room is the total opposite. The walls are baby blue, decorated top to bottom with dreamy clouds. You spot a chubby yellow star peeking out from underneath one of them, adorned with a hand-painted smiley face. On his nightstand, there’s a pastel purple foldable record player. Standing behind it is a single vinyl: Beautiful Boy by John Lennon.

“Since you like to read,” Jungkook coughs, turning your attention to a sleek bookcase, stuffed to the brim with hundreds of titles you’ve never even heard of. “I figured you’d appreciate my collection.”

“Yeah, it’s…” The words trail off as you step forward. On a whim, your finger extends, tracing the delicate spine of a well-loved book. A low chuckle brings you back to reality; you peep, cheeks heating up in embarrassment as you yank your hand away. “It’s… really cool.”

“You can borrow something if you’d like. Does anything catch your eye?” Plopping down onto the computer chair, Jungkook rummages through his desk drawer and pulls out a tiny black case. You didn’t even know he wore glasses, and when he nudges them comfily onto the bridge of his nose, you nearly melt. As if he could get any more attractive.

“N-No,” you stutter as he wheels closer. Even though you’re towering over him, you still feel so small in his presence. You pray to God he can’t sense how incredibly nervous he makes you. “Not really.”

“You wear your heart on your sleeve, you know,” he hums, low and sly. “Do I make you nervous?”

“No!” You peep in shock. Is the man a fucking mindreader?

“Right.” Jungkook peers over the rim of his lenses, dark eyes glimmering in the whimsical glow of the room. “So __, what do you want to be?”

“A teacher,” you say, playing with your fingers.

“My wife wanted to be a teacher, too.” He shoots you the softest, gentlest smile. “She ended up doing business instead.”

“Why?” You ask, gnawing on your bottom lip. You don’t mean to pry, but this is the first time you’ve ever actually talked to him in a meaningful way. Something about him intrigues you, like a puzzle you’re determined to find all the pieces to.

“Ah, well,” he sighs, inked fingers scratching at the back of his neck. “We figured it’d be best for our family if we both pursued more lucrative career paths. I switched my major from English to finance.” You light up at the confession, the similarity putting you at ease. “I’m sorry if I was abrasive earlier,” he frowns, “I settled down young and had to sacrifice a lot, so I encourage you to go for something that fulfills you.” With his elbows on his knees, he leans closer to you. “I think you’d be a fantastic teacher. You take care of my daughter well.”

“Thank you,” you peep, cheeks heating up at the compliment. “I mean… you didn’t have Yul that young.” He tried to comfort you, so it’s only fair you do the same, right? “I think your late twenties are a great time to have children.”

Almost immediately, his face drops, eyes glazing over with something so raw. So… longing. You’ve never seen anything like it before. The corners of his nose twitch before he composes himself. “Yeah, I suppose they are.” His pink tongue toys with his lip ring, swiftly changing the subject. “You seem surprised.”

“I guess I just wasn’t expecting all this.”

“Expecting what?”

“I don’t know,” you laugh clumsily, “books.” You mentally curse yourself as soon as the answer comes out. Really, __? Books?

“What?” He starts, raising a brow at you. “You thought I couldn’t read?”

Thankfully, Jungkook takes your comment playfully.

“Maybe,” you respond in the same lighthearted manner, feeling a bit more comfortable in his presence, “I also didn’t expect your room to look like a little boy’s room.”

All of the cheerfulness in the air evaporates as Jungkook glares at you with a clenched jaw and flared nostrils. Cleary irate. You’ve triggered a landmine.

“Jungkook, I’m-”

“Stop talking.” He raises a hand, cutting you off before you finish the sentence. Turning his back to you, he wheels over to his desk. “You can leave. You’re done for the day.”

Looking back, you know why he was so upset that day. You had put the puzzle pieces together a while ago. You’re unsure of the details, and asking for them feels wrong. Silence feels wrong, too, though. Until now, you’ve never dared to speak up.

You have no idea how to navigate something of this magnitude, but you just want him to know that you’re here. That you’re trying.

Cautiously, with your hand still on the tattoo, you whisper: “He must’ve been so beautiful, Jungkook…”

The thumb that had been drawing soft shapes into your side comes to an eerie pause as he freezes under you. When you look at him, your heart shatters. His chin is caved in with little dents, eyes glazed over with so much emotion. You’ve never seen a human being look so broken.

“Get off me.”

You frown at the shift in his demeanor. “Why?”

Remaining tight-lipped, Jungkook physically removes you from his lap, dumping you onto the seat next to him.

“Why can’t we ever talk about anything serious?”

He remains quiet as he slides his underwear up, not sparing you a single glance. When he speaks, his tone is painfully detached. “Like what?”

“Like what you said,” you answer curtly.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were about to.”

Shaking his head with a cynical chuckle, he begins buttoning his pants, pretending you don’t exist. Like you’re not right beside him, falling to pieces.

Your eyes dart to the ceiling, lashes fluttering rapidly as you mull over what to say next. You guess now would be an appropriate time to ask him what you’ve wanted for weeks. Blinking does nothing to combat your unshed tears when you realize that his answer has the potential to destroy everything you’ve been dreaming about. Everything you’ve hoped for. “When are you going to leave her?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not being ridiculous, Jungkook!” Shaking your head furiously, you feel the first hints of anger in your chest, tears threatening to spill at any moment. “I’m not! I see the way you look at me!”

“What the fuck did you think was going to happen? Huh?” Finally, he’s paying attention to you, just not in the way you hoped. His face is beet red as he leans closer. “Don’t tell me you actually thought we were going to end up together, __. Seriously? You’re my babysitter! You’re seven years younger than me! This isn’t some fucking fairytale; it’s life! There’s no such thing as happily-ever-afters—grow up and stop acting like a damn child!”

“No, Jungkook,” you croak, fully sobbing as you push an angry finger into his chest. “You’re the one who’s acting childish! I may not be the most mature person, but at least I know how to accept love!”

“So let’s say I divorce my wife, then what? Huh?” He seethes. “I get partial custody? I only see Yul on weekends? Every other week? She grows up in a broken home? I refuse to ruin my daughter’s life like that.”

You take a shaky breath, eyes shifting to the car floor, the air fresher on his mirror, the window. Anywhere but him. The way Jungkook explains your make-believe future together is nothing how you envisioned it. Maybe he’s right. Maybe he’s just a fucking asshole. Neither thought process eases the pain.

“But you’re okay with ruining mine?”

For a moment, his features soften, and you see a glimmer of guilt wash over him. It fizzles out just as fast as it came. “You’re being dramatic.” Jungkook steps outside, tucking his shirt into his pants. “Get dressed.”

With jittery hands and blurry eyes, you grab your discarded lace bra, the one you had bought just for tonight, and slide it on your shoulders. When you pick your shirt up, you see that it’s ripped and tattered. Completely destroyed.

“Here,” Jungkook mumbles, tossing you his blazer as he watches you in the rearview.

Once you’re dressed, you awkwardly slide into the passenger seat. The scent of his cologne makes your head pound and your stomach flip.

“I want to go home.”

His lips part, preparing to persuade you otherwise. The hotel room he booked is ready and waiting, just as it is every Friday. He decides against it, simply murmuring an ‘okay’ before putting the keys in the ignition and starting the engine.

“Do you want to get something to eat before I drop you off?”

You just want your dad.

“I just want to go home.”

Other than the whoosh of splashing puddles and your soft sniffles, the ride to your house is painfully silent. Leaning your head against the window, you watch the moon. For miles and miles, it never changes. It’s stagnant, frozen in time, surrounded by nothing but endless blackness.

“Stop crying! I can’t stand it anymore!” Jungkook shouts, hitting the steering wheel with his open palm, finally growing uncomfortable from your non-stop tears. The sudden outburst makes you flinch. Sighing heavily, he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. Just… stop crying, please.”

You sink further into your seat, curling your lips into your mouth to suppress a sob.

“I’m not worth your tears, __.”

You feel nothing but relief when he finally turns onto your street, stopping all the way at the end, concealed by the night and the shadows of overhanging trees.

“Am I picking you up next Friday?” He asks just before you leave.

With raw cheeks and a scowl, you slam the door in his face.

Your feet are so heavy that the sidewalk sinks under you like quicksand. No matter how many steps you take, the comfort of your house seems out of reach. Too far gone. Confusion weighs on your shoulders. You should feel proud, empowered even, but that voice in the back of your mind smothers any sense of relief.

Deep down, you know this isn’t going to be the last weekend you spend with Jungkook.

#bts #bts smut #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #jungkook angst #btshoneyhive

3K notes · View notes

theshitpostcalligrapher · 10 months ago

Text

ASKBOX IS OPEN REQUESTS ARE OPEN HERE ARE THE RULES

ground rules:

1) Funny- the request needs to be humorous, memes usually the most popular but dnd in jokes and other shitpostery is welcome. i abide by the MBMBAM NO BUMMERS rule - there are plenty of sad/deep/beautiful calligraphers out there who’d be happy to work with yall, but this isn’t that sort of channel

2) Length - aim for no more than 75 characters a request, my cue cards are only so big so I can only fit so much on each one and still not look like garbage. There is a little leeway but if you send me smth with like 120 characters it aint getting written

3) Amount of Requests - I am trying to be fair but i am one person running almost the ENTIRE thing, logistics, tech, etc, I have twitch mods and a roommate for retrieving things and that's it. In order to be fair, please restrict yourselves to 3 requests per person to let everyone have a shot, if you send in more i will ctrl-f your username and pick my favourites

4) Content - I will not do anything I consider under the umbrella of general assholery - this includes racial slurs, edgelord bullshit, exclusionist jackassery etc. Please be kind to each other. Please let me know if I’ve taken a request that is some incredibly obscure piece of assholery, someone once tried to slip a really obscure antisemetic piece of slang by me once

5) Repeats - I keyword tag EVERY SINGLE piece i’ve ever done on this blog, if you think I might have written smth already but aren’t sure, the /search/[keyword] is your friend, check if i’ve done your request before

the askbox is theshitpostcalligrapher.tumblr.com/ask , not a dm or submission to the blog. I’ll close submissions too so people don’t get the boxes confused. DM me for any actual clarifications, kind words, etc so they don’t get swallowed up by the behemoth of my askbox for months, and if you want to give me live encouragement the twitch link is right there, and is the ideal way to inquire more about any of the day's rules.

If you want to jump the ENTIRE queue and get your card done immediately, there are ways to donate on the twitch stream to get your request done with an ink of your choice. You can still submit 3 free requests in addition to what you pay for.

I’ll be streaming the entire time the askbox is open on twitch @ theshitpostcalligrapher, trying to get as many of these done today as possible live. Once 10PM EST hits, the askbox will close but if you get your request into the askbox by then, it will be done eventually as I always have 4 cards up per day.

Here’s the link to my twitch, we’ll start a little after 3 o’clock.

twitch_live

Here is a direct donation link to my streamlabs, it works like a ko-fi but I’ve got it set to give me alerts on my twitch so I can see and thank you straightaway for supporting my takeout order

I've planned on a few donation goals this time! They help pay for all the hours I put in and the material costs. Every time we hit a goal, I'll refresh it to 0 and math out whatever overlap to add to the new goal

$20 > Time For Tea! I make a sparkly, food safe glittery tea that looks like ink to enjoy with yall on stream

$30 > Jackbox Break! My Discord VC and potentially chat plays a few games

$40 > Takeout O'clock: It is time to order a food, Mia! Polls will probably be involved for food options

$200 (I am fairly sure we won't get this one) > I bought all the requisite items to bleach my hair to prep for a dye. Let's do this shit LIVE ON AIR BAYBEE

Also of Note: I will be moving house sometime in the next week and a half, which means I will be RECYCLING ALL OF THE CARDS I'VE WRITTEN IN THE PAST TWO AND A HALF YEARS (save for the ones folks pay for on stream, those are earmarked to be mailed out anyways) so if you've gotten something written by me from september 2021 to january 2024 or so, please remember that there is an an etsy shop where you can snag any card from the blog for a few dollars. dm the shop if you'd like to buy a bundle of randoms, I WILL give you a sale about it

#calligraphy #shitpost #faq #openaskbox rules #openaskbox

290 notes · View notes

idrellegames · 6 months ago

Note

hi there! sorry if you've gotten a similar ask before. do you write wayfarer directly into twine or do you keep it in a separate doc? do you just have really clearly labeled sections in a word doc or something or is there a specific program you use to keep track of every story path? basically, with something as expansive and w/ as many routes as wayfarer, how do you keep all your writing organized?

I have answered this before, but I can't seem to find my posts on the subject (you may want to peruse my coding in twine tag, the masterpost has a bunch of different resources for this kind of thing!).

But in short, no, I do not write Wayfarer directly into Twine. This could functionally work for a very small game, but I would still advise against it as Twine doesn't really work as a word processor. You can't proof-read in it.

My process has three main steps:

Outlining

Writing

Coding

Compiling

Outside of my big beat chart (which spans the whole game), I break each episode down into their own outlines, and then break the routes of each episode down into their own outlines. Sometimes specific sections end up with their own outlines too. My system probably doesn't make much sense to anyone other than me, but as long as I know what the divisions are, then it's all good.

I write in MS Word. Each episode has its own folder (sometimes with subfolders) and every section of the game gets its own document.

Here's the main folders, each episode goes into its own thing.

This is an subfolder for Episode 1, specifically Route B.

Within my word documents themselves, I use a colour-coding system for separating out branches and sections. This is extremely useful for writing dialogue loops, like this:

I also add in any coding notes (variables, true/false states, stat checks) while I am writing so I know what I need to do when I sit down to code 4+ months later. I usually throw a X or XX on choices after I have written them as a note to myself that I have finished it (this is just personal shorthand - X means I've done the pass version of a check, XX means I've done the pass and fail states).

I use about 8-10 colours in my documents; I have a set of MS Word macros set up so I can easily switch between them.

I share my word documents with my editor via OneDrive, which makes it easy for her to got through and proofread.

I use MS Word because I've been using it to write since the 2000s and it's what I prefer to use. I have also been writing professionally for over a decade now, so I have systems and strategies in place that work for me that I've developed for myself over time. But if you're new to writing and you're looking for a word processor that can also help you with outlining and keeping your story straight, something like Scrivener may be helpful.

One the text is ready to be coded, it's a lot of copy/pasting from Word into Twine. When I'm coding I will typically be running multiple programs at once:

MS Word

MS Excel (for my variable sheets)

Twine

Notepad++ (which has some regularly used code stored in it; I also use it to edit CSS and Javascript, as well as any really code-heavy sections since it's easier to do that in Notepad++ than it is in the Twine editor)

Notepad (just the regular version - I use it for writing notes to myself while I'm coding)

a web browser to launch tests in as I code

Once I am done coding and I have tested things, it's time to compile. The Twine editor can only handle so many passages and text in one file (around 500-700 passages before you hit massive lag), so I break Wayfarer into multiple story files. Having multiple story files also makes it really easy for me to cross-reference events (if I need to grab a passage title to reference it later) because I don't have to look through one big file. If I know the event happens in Episode 2's first scene, then I know I need to open Chapter_2.1.

My Twine library looks like this at the moment:

I am using an old version of the editor (with an up-to-date version of SugarCube) since I didn't like the new one. I don't necessarily recommend using the Twine editor when you can easily make your game with Twee extensions in Visual Studio Code and have better support and functionality, but this is what I like and it really comes down to personal preference.

But because everything is in separate files, I have to merge them altogether. I have Tweego installed on my PC; it's run through the command prompt and outputs multiple story files into one HTML file. I've talked about this process here and here.

And that's basically it! I don't think there's a one-size-fits-all solution to keeping track of your IF. You need to figure out what works for you, based on your writing and outlining habits, how big your story is, and how much you intend to keep track of.

Hope this helps!

#wayfarer #wayfarer if #coding in twine #twine #twine game #interactive fiction #interactive novel #answered

46 notes · View notes

labrxnth · 8 months ago

Text

EotP Chapter 2: Distant Beaches (Leon x Reader Series)

Tag List:

WC: 3261

CWs: some heinous forced father figure shit, human experimentation, PTSD, kidnapping, cannon level body horror, cannon level swearing and violence, body comparison.

AN: I chose to go with Leon's original backstory because fuck you. Also I'm in love with the idea of him being hungover during RE2. It makes everything so much worse lmao.

If you want to be on the tag list, comment and it'll be done.

Spotify Link: Listen along to the playlist I've curated for this fanfic

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ☆. ───

“So this is what you’re up to?” You asked, your eyes on the booklet in his hand.

The dark, sinister hallway that had your stomach in knots wasn’t easy to look at. Walls covered in water staining and blood echoed like a chamber. The floors were covered in mystery liquid, one you weren’t gonna ask about. The notebook in Leon’s hand was easier to look at, the question was to get the uneasiness out of your head.

“Yeah,” Leon answered, his eyes flickering between the book and forward, as if waiting for something to jump out at the two of you. The hallway was dimly lit from his flashlight, adding to his growing suspense.

Looking at him, you could tell the signs of someone in denial and trying to juggle multiple things at once.

“Do you want me to keep track of the booklet?” You asked. You had been brought up to help people, engineered to do the exact same thing. Over the past 9 years, you were told how helpful you were, how good you were.

“I can’t ask you to do that, you focus on that ankle,” Leon said and pocketed the notebook. You made sure to take note of where he put the small booklet. His right back pocket.

One question you had on your mind since venturing out from the room you met in was at the forefront, begging to be asked.

“Is this what the world looks like now?” You asked, your eyes on the ceiling, seeing the different stains and wiring showing, sparking. You remembered the neon, the smell of hairspray, not this.

“I guess. I don’t know what’s going on here, but my only guess is that it’s only here that’s affected. At least in Denver it’s not like this,” He replied. He stopped walking and shook his head a little bit, then continued to walk. “At least when I left, it wasn’t like this,” He added.

Denver, you remembered that name. It was the capital of a state, unfortunately you couldn’t remember which one. Trying to remember social studies from 9 years ago was like trying to remember a piece of information so deep in your mind that it wouldn't budge.

You were trying to figure out how to ask for more information without revealing too much, but the sound of your foot slipping caught your attention.

Hands were suddenly on your arms, making you sturdy and upright again. Leon’s face was inches from yours as the flashlight illuminated a random wall from him grabbing you.

“Careful, can’t have you spraining that other ankle,” He said, looking over you to make sure you were okay.

You were miles away, the sudden touch, or rather grab, was all too familiar to you. Leon meant it in goodwill, but you were used to people jostling you around, moving you at their own will and want. In place of Leon, you saw David, his eyes leering down at you.

“Be a good girl for me, Thirteen,” He said, a snarl on his face as a syringe was in his hand. He held you with one arm, forcing you to stay still as the large needle with your usual sleeping medication got closer to you.

You had to get out, you had to break free, don’t let the needle touch you, get out from his grip, don’t touch me-

“Hey, you okay?” You were brought back to reality by another voice, one that was starting to be familiar. As you blinked, the white walls and floors melted back to the dark blue and hazy green atmosphere of the place you were in.

Leon’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you with concern. His blue eyes searched you over, checking you for any sign of hurt.

“Y-yeah,” You managed to say, your voice cracking. “Just startled is all…” Your heart sped up as adrenaline entered your body. Lying didn’t come easily to you, it never did. You were hoping that Leon didn’t catch the unevenness of your tone and how clammy your hands had gotten.

He seemed to believe you, or at least think it would be too much to call you out on the lie. Leon nodded and let go of you, turning back to facing forward. “Watch your step, there’s blood and worse everywhere,” He said and continued walking.

“...Blood?” You asked, finally looking down at what you had slipped on. Sure enough, painting the tiled floor was thick streams of crimson red. Your eyes widened as you saw the blood now on your bare feet. Vomit threatened to come up and you started slightly shaking.

You weren’t used to seeing blood. Everything in the Umbrella lab was clean, you never saw blood there.

Leon turned to look at you, as if sensing you stopping. The flashlight turned to you and he took in your expression.

“We gotta keep moving, there’s a locker room up ahead, we can find you some better clothes and some shoes there,” He said.

“Why is there…” You said, trailing off.

To Leon’s credit, he picked up on what was happening quickly. He walked back to you and held out a hand to you.

Your eyes focused on his hand, then flicked up to his eyes, seeing compassion in them.

“The quicker we move, the quicker we can get out of here,” He said softly.

You nodded and reached out to his hand. You remembered something like this, this was normal, people held hands all the time. Flashes of memories of your parents, your friends, and you holding hands. Whether it was during a game, or leading you through something, it was normal. This was a normal thing.

Leon’s hand softly grabbed yours, lacing your fingers together. The familiarity of soft human contact, a touch not expecting anything in return was enough to bring you back. Before all of this.

Looking up to Leon, he wasn’t Leon anymore. A middle aged man with black hair and blue eyes stood in front of you. He was two times your size, tall and wide. He smelled of the Ocean. His eyes looked at you lovingly and his smile had a chipped tooth from eating ice.

Dad. My dad.

“Come on sunshine, I got you,” He said and held your hand, walking you to a stall that was so much taller than you.

The smell of high tide filled your nose and the squawk of seagulls could be heard all around you. Looking down, you saw the usual dark brown wooden planks that were waterlogged. You remembered this place.

The beach.

Your dad crouched down to your height and pointed at the stall, then the worker. “Tell the nice ice cream man what flavor you want,” He said, smiling at you. You could feel the hand patting your back, encouraging you to speak.

This was what an actual father was supposed to be. This is what you had been ripped from, forced to forget.

Your dad looked at you. “____, tell him. I know you can do it, honey,” He said softly. What was supposed to be your name was static, even your memories couldn’t remember your old identity. Who you were born to be.

Suddenly, his expression changed and he stood back up. “_____, I have to take care of something. I’m gonna leave you alone for a bit, but I’ll be back,” He said.

“Joan, I’m gonna leave you alone for a bit, but I’ll be back,” Leon said, his voice bringing you back to your present again. That’s twice today, that was a new record.

You were so used to surviving in Umbrella that you didn't have the luxury of memories. That, and the memory serum they pumped in you did its job in suppressing them.

“Okay,” You said and nodded, barely processing what he said. The two of you were in a small outlet of a hallway, Leon looking around the corner. Your hands were still entangled in each other, the warmth spreading up your arm.

“Give me two minutes and I’ll be back,” He said, looking back at you.

“What if you’re not?” You asked nervously. Having a backup was something you had learned to have over the many years of failing escape.

“I’ll be back, I’m not leaving you alone in here,” Leon said, getting a little closer to you. “Don’t worry, I’ve fought these things before, I know how to kill them,” He added.

Your eyes widened at his words.

Things….

Kill?

“What?” You asked, your mind reeling trying to figure out what he meant. Suddenly, you weren’t at the beach anymore, you were pulled back into the dark reality of the Police Department.

Leon looked at you, confused for a second, then he realized something. “You have no clue about the outbreak,” He said. It wasn’t a question, he was telling you. Stating it.

“Outbreak?” You said. You remembered David’s words from when you left the facility. Birkin messed with something. You had a sense that whatever was going on, this ‘Birkin’ was responsible.

Leon looked at the floor, trying to figure out how to explain it. “So, we’re currently in the middle of a zombie outbreak. I don’t know why and I don’t know what causes it, but the dead aren’t actually dead,” He said, looking at you. His eyes looked at you like he expected you to freak out.

“O…kay?” You said, not really getting as hung up on it as Leon expected you to. For the past nine years you were surrounded by scientists who fucked around with human biology, you weren’t really surprised that the dead could come back to life.

“You’re taking this way better than I guessed you would,” Leon said. He let go of your hand to cross his arms. His eyes looked at you, a hint of untrust in them.

“I grew up around biologists,” You offered as an explanation. He took it as the truth, out of convenience.

“When we make it out of here, I’m never touching another bottle of alcohol ever again,” He grumbled and checked the gun he was holding. “Two minutes,” He said and nodded to you.

You nodded in agreement and watched him go around the corner. After a few seconds, you heard gunshots and a yelp, then bodies hitting the floor.

Soon enough, the ashy blonde hair of your new companion came around the corner and he looked at you. “It’s clear,” He said.

You nodded and went to walk, but instead his hand reached out to you again. As if missing the feeling of the warmth between the two of you, you took it almost immediately.

“Hold on,” Leon said, not moving. He got closer to you and his eyes met you. As he got closer, you could see the blood spurts on his face, making you flinch a bit.

“I need you to close your eyes, okay?” He asked.

“Uh okay,” You said quietly and squeezed your eyes shut. For some reason, you knew you could trust him. Maybe he was the only person you thought you could trust. That idea scared you, the idea of trust was one you weren’t used to anymore.

Leon guided you through the hallway, lightly pulling your hand forward. Looking back, he noticed how awkward and slowly you moved through the hallway even with his guidance. He walked back to you and went to put his other arm around your back.

“Is it okay if I help you?” He asked gently. You nodded in reply and felt his hand on your higher back. Instead of the dread you assumed the touch would bring, it brought peace and assurance.

After a few minutes of walking, you heard a door open after the warmth of Leon’s hand disappeared. Then, you walked through a doorway onto a different feeling floor.

“You can open your eyes,” Leon said.

You opened your eyes to the sight of a dimly lit locker room. You watched Leon put something into a terminal and he pressed a few buttons, running to get a newly opened locker.

“There are uniforms and shoes in that locker, if they fit it’ll make this easier,” He sighed as he sat down and held his head with his hands.

If Leon had been fighting all day long, it was no wonder he was tired. Anyone would keel over at this point.

“I picked the worst day to come in,” He grumbled.

As your hands found the locker Leon was talking about, you noticed what he said. “So you weren’t here when this started?” You asked, wanting to gain more information about what happened, or really what Leon knew.

“No,” He admitted as he put pouches on his hips. The pouches had the letters R.P.D. written on them.

You found a uniform that looked like it was the closest to your size and took it out of the locker. Holding it up to your body, the navy blue fabric was still too big for your frame.

It was a size women’s small.

You knew that David and Umbrella kept you malnourished so you were more agreeable and less energetic, but holding the fabric up to your body made you see how small your frame was. It was scary.

Getting your mind off of comparing yourself to the clothes, you decided to press Leon more. “When did you get here?” You asked.

“Today. I thought that yesterday was one of the worst days of my life so I decided to come in today. But this is… much worse than what was going on with me,” He sighed and tightened the straps on his pouches and holsters.

You were quiet, not really knowing if you should press into someone’s personal life.

“I guess I should tell you, seeing as though I’m now responsible for your safety as well…” He said under his breath. “I had a pretty awful day yesterday, so I’m not the most sober person right now,” He admitted.

You blankly stared at him, not knowing what he meant.

“Uh….” He said sheepishly and ran his hand through his hair. “I’m a little hungover right now, but don’t worry, I’ll still get us through this,” He said.

That…still didn’t clear up what he meant. It was almost like he was speaking a foreign language from your reaction. You just stared blankly at him still.

Moving onto other matters, you started taking off your scrubs, finally being free of the grubby, smokey fabric. As you did, you heard a yelp come from Leon.

“Jesus! Let me know next time you do that,” He said, turning to face the wall. You could see the back of his neck and the tips of his ears were pink.

You went about your business and finished changing. The women’s uniform came with a tanktop, the button up shirt, the pants, and the shoes.

“A-are you done?” Leon asked, his voice slightly crackling and the pink turning deeper with the voice crack.

“I think…” You said and looked down. You looked like a toddler trying on their parent’s work clothes. The way the fabric hung loosely would only make you slower, a liability.

“Here,” Leon said and walked up to you. He crouched down to do something, then looked up at you. “Can I help you with this?” He asked. You nodded and his eyes looked over the uniform.

He noticed that you had put a tanktop on underneath so he got to work undoing the buttons of the shirt. “So, I told you how I got here, how’d you get here?” He asked

You tried to think of a way to explain your situation. Even if you told the truth, would he believe you? He’d either ignore it, deny it was the truth, or worse turn you in.

After all, you were property technically. And the longer you were gone, the longer you were technically “stolen”.

Your eyes flicked to the side and you decided to make up a story. “I was at the hospital… I had been for a while,” You said. It wasn’t too far from the truth.

“Oh,” Leon said softly, his eyes meeting yours. They carried a sympathy that stabbed your heart for lying about being ill.

“They were transporting me,” You said, looking at the floor.

“And the helicopter was the one that crashed,” He said, recalling that you told him you were in the helicopter that crashed.

“Yeah,”

“Here, hold onto me so I can tie this easier,” He said. You hesitantly wrapped your arms around his neck, loosely, and he got to working on the clothes again.

Leon had finished making adjustments to your uniform. He took the long sleeves on the button up and used them to tie the shirt around your waist. The pant legs were tucked into your socks and the bandages from your sprained ankle.

“I’m no seamstress, but I did what I could,” He said. You removed your arms and offered a light smile in thanks.

“Thanks, these feel better than what I was in,” You said. The feel of a different fabric than the same one you had been wearing for years felt odd.

Not odd, just weird.

“I thought as much,” He said. “I picked this up too, my girlfriend used to use them all the time. She would get upset if her hair got in the way of doing things,” He said and held up a hair elastic.

You used hair elastics a lot, and luckily, this was the type that held your hair the strongest.

“Thanks,” You said again and took it, putting your hair back and away from your face. This wasn’t the time to worry about looks, this was the time to worry about practicality.

“There’s one last thing. Can I?” He asked, gesturing to his neck. The collar.

You nodded and looked up as he took his knife out. He ran his finger along the collar and looked at you. “It’s a bit tougher material than I thought it’d be. Where’d you get this?” He asked.

“I ran away a lot. They would use it to transport me,” You said, thinking quickly.

“Jesus, remind me to never go to the hospital you were in,” He said, trying to remove it with his knife.

“Trust me, you won’t ever go there,”

After a few minutes, he sighed in frustration. “It’s not giving. I think you’ll have to keep it until we find something sturdier to get it off. You okay with that?” He asked.

You nodded in reply.

“Alright, now I feel better about bringing you along with me,” Leon said and smiled at you. “I won’t have to worry about you stepping on glass or anything,” He added.

“Thank you,” You said again, your eyes meeting his.

“Thank me when we get out of here,” He said and walked over to the door. “I’d give you a gun or a knife, but I don’t have anything to spare.” He looked at you sympathetically.

“Don’t worry, I don’t even know how to use either one so it would be lost on me,” You reassured.

His eyebrows furrowed a bit and he slightly tilted his head. “Really? Not even a knife?” He asked.

You shook your head in reply.

“Well then, I’ll just have to teach you when we get out of here. Or earlier if I have to,” He said and put his hand on the doorknob. “You still okay with following me around?” He asked.

There was no doubt in your mind that Leon was the safest person you could be with right now. He knew where you were, at least more than you did, and he knew how to fight. It would stupid of you to say no.

“Of course,” You said and nodded. “We’ll make it out of here together,” You added and lightly smiled.

His concerned look slowly turned into a light smile and he nodded. “Yeah, we will. As long as we stay together, we’ll be okay,” He replied.

Leon opened the door into the darkness, ready to get out of the locker room and plunge into the dark hallway. Ready to lead the two of you into whatever this hell would throw at him. He was more determined now, because he had someone that depended on him.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ☆. ───

Catch this fic and others on my AO3

#resident evil fanfic #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil fanfiction #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #slow burn #spotify #echoes of the past

27 notes · View notes

roxtron · 4 months ago

Text

Pinned post/About me thing

-----------------------------------------------------------

you can call me whatever, i usually go by some variation of my username but i don't mind nicknames and stuff

he/they

i'm autistic so my posts will probably vary by whatever/whenever certain special interests/hyperfixations are stronger at the time

-----------------------------------------------------------

A bit of info about what I post/reblog

i make original art sometimes but art block has been really tough so unfortunately i don't have a lot to post lately :(

besides that I'll usually make either rambling or analysis posts on whatever subject I'm posting about, usually fandom related. occasionally theories but that depends on if what I'm posting about really leaves room for theorizing.

I reblog pretty casually on here so it can range from stuff i find funny to stuff i think could use awareness, fandom-wise this blog somehow became pretty fnaf centered lol, not quite sure how that happened but i still consider it my main.

if i reblog other people's art or analysis I usually try to leave my thoughts in the tags, but sometimes I have a hard time thinking of what to say so sorry if I reblog your work and don't say anything/don't seem enthusiastic about it, if I reblog something it's because I adore it lol, I just don't always know how to put thoughts into words. <3

and as a side note, while I do try to check blogs of people I reblog in case it's a terf or whatever, sometimes you never know, so if I do reblog something from someone who's done something shitty don't hesitate to let me know with an ask or something because chances are I probably don't know lol.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Boundaries stuff I guess.

I know DNI lists are annoying and pointless but whatever, if there's a chance it'll get people to leave me alone it's worth it. I shouldn't need to list obvious ones like terfs, transphobes, homophobes, all those assholes. But also, if you don't like one of my posts, I'd rather you block me and move on than hate reblog it. It's immature and annoying, and I won't hesitate to block people that do it.

Obviously I don't just mean "if you criticize something I post you're bad," I'm alright with criticism as long as it's respectful, but if you're gonna reblog just to say "look at this idiot" then fuck off.

Sorry about how aggressive that may have been but I don't wanna deal with stuff like that. I've dealt with it in the past and it sucks, if you don't like me, that's perfectly fine, but just block me and move on. Onto a more positive topic.. If you wanna use my art for pfps or anything that's really cool actually!! Ofc I'd ask for credit but if anyone did want a pfp of something I've drawn you can always send me an ask and I'll post a zoomed in version or something or make whatever edit you wanted so you don't need to worry about it lol Besides all that you don't have to worry about interacting with me, if you've got any questions whether that's related to me or my blog you don't have to hesitate to send an ask if you want :)

-----------------------------------------------------------

Sideblogs

I've recently made sideblogs for other fandoms people don't follow me for here. I figured it'd be easier to separate them but mostly for spoilers' sake. Sure I try to spoiler tag but people aren't gonna block spoiler tags for fandoms they're not in if they see it and I'd hate to spoil someone for a series they could've had the chance to go into blind. That being said, please don't follow my other blogs unless you already know the spoilers for whatever fandom the blog's centered around. As much as I appreciate support I'd hate for you to get spoiled and I'd much rather wait for you to play the game yourself <3 (since as of now they're both video game fandoms..) @roxtron-kh (Kingdom Hearts)

@roxtron-gt (Ghost Trick)

----------------------------------------------------------- Woo I think that's everything! Finally I can get to the tags section of this long-ass post.. I wanna try to tag things more properly in the future, even if I'm not really big enough to warrant it, I still wanna be able to find my own stuff easier at least through the sea of reblogs, so if you're curious about any of my posts, here's a list of tags you can look through! I'm currently trying to update some of my old posts with tags so they can be added to the list.

#my art #my analysis #vanny swarm saga #(for context that one's from a security breach glitch i had fun with lol.. it went on for multiple posts so i figured it deserved a tag.)#i'll probably add more tags in the future but considering how small my account is I don't do a lot so I don't have a lot to tag lol #hope you enjoy your time here :D

14 notes · View notes

ghostoffuturespast · 11 months ago

Text

Works In Progress 2023: A Cyberpunk 2077 Year In Review

I thought for a hot minute about doing one of those snazzy templates that’s been going around, but editing photos just ain’t my MO and rather than going by month I picked 12 favs that I’ve posted in 2023. Some of them were popular, some of them weren't. Overall, I think I did pretty good for just doing vanilla photomode on console.

You might be wondering why there's a picture of a sticky note. I don't remember when I started doing this, and I'm horribly inconsistent as you can see by the dates, but I'll jot down my word count for my wip chapter and then jot it down again when I remember to later.

I write slow. A lot of times I sit down to write and it feels like the wheels are spinning in place. My minutes and hours don't stretch very far, typically don't add up to much. But days, weeks, months. That's when I can at least measure the progress.

Fic: So It Goes 40/44 - 438,946 words

My V x River Ward and tinfoil hat conspiracy theory long fic. I've spent way more hours on this then I have on any of my VP.

I got tagged by @just-a-cybercroissant @therealnightcity and @wanderingaldecaldo to do some WIP Whenevers. I post my VP pretty regularly, so it’s always seemed silly to do work in progress posts for them, and I don’t know when I’ll have any new writing to share since in between work and the holidays, I haven’t had much time to sit down with anything since my last chapter update. And I've been feeling very... stingy, lately. Especially when it comes to mine and other people's writing. So take this WIP/Year In Review as my offering. Both these series, as am I, are all very much still works in progress.

I confined my reflections for this year below the cut. If you don’t want to read my long-ass essays, you can admire the pictures, maybe check out my fic, or just move along and have yourself a lovely day.

We’ll start with the easy one.

After at least a year of multiple playthroughs (I’ve played all the lifepaths, done all the endings), it only occurred to me at the beginning of this year to start taking VP. Part of the reason I never did before was because I didn’t realize it was a thing and then by the time I did, I figured I didn’t have much to offer. I play on PS5 and only have access to vanilla photomode, so seeing everyone else’s high-fidelity, ultra ray-tracing, modded, posed, full on virtual photo shoot photos, I was like there’s no way. (Not that I’m hating on PC modders, it’s just not everyone has access to mods or a PC capable of running the game, and I’m all for making art and creative endeavors accessible.) On top of that, all I’d ever heard from most other folks was how much vanilla photomode sucked. In the glamorous world of VP, I didn’t think there was any room for me.

But I started snapping pics anyway. And sure, there are a lot of limitations with vanilla photomode. But what that really translates to is opportunities to get creative. I am also a hoe for subverting people’s expectations, and very much believe when there’s a will, there’s a way.

Environmental and landscape shots were my first subjects before I started branching out into portraits and then capturing story moments. Through VP I found an entirely new way to enjoy a game that I’d already played a ridiculous number of times along with also finally being brave enough to share my V with other people too. I’d always worried about that before, if people would like her. Granted, I know Grandpa’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but whether you like her or not, I certainly think she’s made a name for herself over the past few months. Even if most people haven’t really gotten to know her the way I’d hoped.

I’ve taken hundreds of photos this past year. Most of which I’ll never share. There’s a lot of flops, a lot of weird experiments, ones that didn’t quite turn out the way I’d hoped, but I’ve learned something from every single one of them. I know how to spot good lighting, frame shots to create optical illusions, get a very limited toolkit to work in my favor, parkoured on all of the things, and heck, I even figured out how to make Grandpa smooch other NPCs. I’ve done atmospheric, mundane, down right goofy, as well as things that most people probably thought weren’t fucking possible.

I can’t say how long I’ll keep doing this, I’m sure I’ll move on at some point, but for now I’m still enjoying myself. There's a lot to explore in this game and I just can’t stop digging Night City.

Now, for the more complicated thing.

Writing

So It Goes… My peace, my war, my greedy and most ravenous of ghosts.

I’m operating under the assumption that most people following me here probably haven't read my fic or aren’t all that interested in reading it to begin with. It’s fine. But you need to understand this fic, my writing, is the main thing that brought me here. This is also Grandpa V’s story. Most of you have met her, but unless you've been reading, most of you do not know her.

I wrote around 185,000 words and posted 10 chapters this year. 2022 was about 253,000 words and 30 chapters, along with several unrelated one shots. However, I don’t think I’ve done a single chapter this year that was less then 10k, and my longest managed to hit 27k. As of the last update I posted, the fic is currently sitting at around 439k words, 40 chapters, and still isn’t done.

I have four more chapters to write. I have written a metric shit ton of words. This is, by far, the longest and most intense creative project I’ve ever endeavored to complete.

When I started writing, I was expecting this fic to be around 100-150k. That seemed to be the average for most long fics. I did not plan on being an outlier. I'm not sure you can ever really plan for that, but I guess I enjoy subverting my own expectations too.

For those of you who are reading my fic, it is my sincerest hope that it shatters every expectation of where you think it’s going. It’s not a joke that I tagged my fic “#an ode to my tinfoil hat”. An ode it has turned out to be. I’ve been sitting on this theory for two years. I have told no one about it. I hope it sticks the landing and hits the way I want it to. I don't know if it will. But fuck, I just want to be done with it so I can move on with my life, take a break, and give myself the opportunity to make and focus on other things before I have to get back on the damn horse.

I wrote less this past year then I did in 2022. I had a lot of life changes, most of which were good, but with times of change come times of adjustment. Along with some realizations that maybe you don’t understand as much as you thought you did. Looking back, I’ve been in a state of unsettled, kuzushi, for a really long time. Which is not a good place to be. It’s how your ass ends up on the ground with a knee knocking out all your teeth. I thought I knew better. Thought I had enough practice to get away from it. But bad habits have good memories.

I think given the circumstances, I accomplished a lot with my writing this year. I don’t know if my writing is exactly where I want it to be. I doubt it every will be, but it’s evolved, grown, and I wrote a pretty hefty stack of words considering I started working full-time again, bought a house with my partner, moved, and have been dealing with the millions of other beans that life tends to throw one’s way. That being said, and for full disclosure, I’ve also been dealing with some of the worst cases of jealousy and envy I’ve had since I was a teenager.

Frankly, it sucks. They walk with me every fucking where I go, hold my hands to whisper back all my doubts. Try to persuade me to my baser instincts, to be cruel and lash out. But that's not aikido. Luckily, I’m not 16 anymore so it’s at least been easier for me to identify the problem. Though I’m still coming up short in terms of actually being able to do anything about it, and will be for at least a few months more.

Yeah, I keep talking about it because I don’t know how many people know that I've been feeling this way. And I’m tired of not talking about it in a room full of creatives, because yeah, I know I’m not the only one that feels this way. And not talking about it just makes all that pent up resentment worse for everyone.

Don’t get me wrong, I love writing. But with the way I work and think, it’s a slow, tedious, and incredibly time-consuming art. With how much my fic has snowballed over the course of writing, it’s left very little room for the other hobbies in my life. And as my fellow writers probably already know, writing is an incredibly insular craft. And unlike a picture or an image, which only requires a glance, reading a bunch of words requires time and commitment.

So, when you put yourself out there and share what you wrote, it’s a lonely feeling not knowing whether or not anyone connected with what you put on the page. Especially, when the people who do read aren’t compelled to voice anything and when the people you’d hope would read don’t. And then you're stuck in the dark, not knowing, because neither of us says a goddamn thing.

I started writing this fic prior to actually joining the CP2077 fandom. And I joined the fandom because I felt alone. I’ve been here a while now, albeit in a few different places, and that feeling still hasn’t gone away. I’m still trying to find camaraderie with my fellow writers and carve out something that kinda sort of resembles a home or a sense of community. I watch my peers around me as they seem to build that with each other, except me.

I’m envious of the things that people make and jealous of the relationships those have created and fostered between said people, because for the life of me, it’s been a struggle to cultivate that since I got here. I know it’s selfish, but I also don’t know what about me makes people so hesitant. There have been a handful of strangers that have shown up for me regularly, but as far as people I call friends in this fandom that have shown up and actually stuck around, I can only name one right now. (I know we're all busy. And I acknowledge my writing's not for everyone. I know maybe some of you are quiet, or shy, or probably a thousand other things. I get it. But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt any less. People will never know unless you say. Never know unless you take the time to interact or engage. Be brave. And that's true for a lot of things.)

The propensity is for the negative to outweigh the positive. I've got a lot of numbers on my fic, so you would think things would be fine, but at this point they just feel empty. They don't bring me any comfort or real satisfaction. And I hate feeling like the people I know don’t care and that most of you are just talking around me. That I’m some kind of annoyance not fit to interact with. Which may or may not be the case. I don’t know. Again, most of you have never said anything. And maybe I need to accept the fact that most of you never will.

But this is me trying to start conversation.

It’s really shitty, knowing that the thing I want the most is also the thing holding me back. I know how to work on it too, not that it’s any guarantee. The problem is I’m still writing and in a needy state of greed. And because I’m slow, I don’t have the time or the energy to be generous. I can only take right now. I can’t give.

Relationships require both.

I can’t bring myself to read other people’s writing. I can’t comment, or like, or share if I haven’t read anything. I'm desperate for conversation, but I also don't have the time or assurance to facilitate it with other people right now. And for some reason people never seem to want to talk to me, especially when it comes to writing. I want to be part of conversations, talk deeply with other people. But I can’t speak right now, I'm not in a place to offer generosity without someone first giving it to me.

And generosity and grace is what we all need.

Four more chapters and I hope my ghosts will finally let me read in peace.

#cyberpunk 2077 #2023 year in review #year in review #virtual photography #writing #from the top #fic: so it goes #long post #i can't guarantee a safe space but i can guarantee a brave space #if anyone's been feeling similarly and wants to talk about it my dms are open #the door's always open

34 notes · View notes

littlexscarletxwitch · 2 years ago

Text

── ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗵𝗲𝗿

paring: florence pugh x fem!reader

tag(s): fluff-ish, angst-ish, sfw, shot blurb, best friend's sister kinda trope, enemies to lovers (but not so enemies), more like I like you but I act like I don't

warning(s): grammatical error, unedited, swearing (sorry not sorry), mentions of cheating, not proofread

word count: 1,880

note: writing a part 2 for 'I know you' wasn't in my plans, but shout out to @wh4tmouth for giving me the courage to do it. This's one for you, I hope you like it. Also, I've never been cheated on (not that I'm that great, is just I've never dated), but I'm aware that this is not how usually people deal with it, but I feel like Betty is just that sweet. Again, the tittle is shitty, I'm sorry for that. I'm not a native english speaker, so please let me know about any sort of mistake. Hope you guys enjoy! <3

requests are open! <3

part 1 | part 2

Betty could sense something was wrong.

She didn't like being alone with Raffie, she could tell that your best friend didn't fully like her. She was wondering what could possibly be taking you so long? She knew about Florence. You told her everything about the blonde woman, well, not everything. She only knew that Florence didn’t seem to like you. But you never told her how you actually felt about her.

“What’s taking them so long?” her anxiety was creeping, she knew something was going on.

“I don’t know, they’re probably fighting about some stupid shit” still, Raffie's words didn’t reassure her. She felt the tension between Florence and you as soon as she stepped into the blonde’s house. She couldn’t tell exactly how you felt toward Raffie’s sister but she could sense that your feelings for her were strong, whatever kind of feelings they were.

“Should we check on them?” Betty tried to hide her worry, it was probably nothing. As Raffie had said, you both were probably having a little argument.

“Yeah, we should” without wasting another second the both of them went outside the restaurant to find out what you two were up to. Betty was right —something had happened.

You fucked up. You fucked up big time. You knew it the moment you heard your best friend calling out your name, you knew it the second you saw Betty’s glossy eyes. You weren’t sure if you felt guilty about getting caught or guilty about doing it to Betty. Yes, what you did was shitty, but you could have avoided the pain in Betty's eyes if she hadn’t come looking for you. Oh, sweet Betty. Sweet Betty who didn’t deserve anything of this. Sweet Betty who was so happy when you called her your girlfriend, even though the word just slipped out of your mouth. Sweet Betty who was looking at you, sadness written all over her face.

“Betty, I–.”

“Don’t even try, Y/n. You’ve done enough” and with that she ran away from the three of you.

Should you go after her? Will she let you explain yourself? But what was there to explain? That you felt sorry she had to witness you kissing another woman, after a few hours of calling her your girlfriend just so Florence would get a little bit jealous, but that you didn’t regret kissing her because you’d been dying to do that for the past two years? Yeah, that was the shittiest explanation ever.

So, you let her go. Gave her space. You knew that she didn’t want to see you, but you still had to talk to her. You had to at least try to make things better. Betty deserved better.

[...]

You gave Betty three days to cool off. You figured she would still be mad but you owed her an apology, even though you knew that it wouldn’t make her feel better, it was the least you could do for her. You also had been avoiding Florence, you wanted nothing more to see her, feel her lips against yours one more time, and breathe her intoxicating scent. But you knew that first you had to make things right with Betty and Florence would only be a distraction. Not that she gave you another option, she was also avoiding you.

You asked Raffie to take you to Betty’s house. Raffie was also kinda mad at you. Well, she pretended she was, because what you did was a really shitty thing. But deep down she was glad that you and her sister had finally confessed to each other. She thought the tension would go away, but it actually became stronger. What a mess you two had made.

You knocked on Betty’s door.

“Betty, it’s me. I know you don’t want to see me. Just please, let me apologize to you.”

“Just go away, Y/n.” Your eyes widened once she answered, you weren’t expecting anything from her, even if she was telling you to go away. She didn’t sound mad, she sounded hurt. All because of you.

“I, I just, I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, Betty. It was really shitty of me, I understand that you don’t want to talk to me. I just wanted you to know that you deserve better than me, hell, you deserve the entire world. You were so sweet to me. And I just took it for granted, and for that I’m really sorry.” You were about to walk away when you heard the door creaking open.

And there she was, her eyes were glossy and puffy. You cursed yourself for doing that to her.

“I could tell from the moment I saw you with her that there was something going on. I was just too stupid to not realize sooner.”

“No, Betty, you're not stupid. Anyone would be lucky to have you, I just–”

“I know. You weren’t mine to lose.” Her voice broke.

“I’m really sorry, Betty.”

“I know you are.”

“Is there anything I can do? I know it won’t make it up to you. I just–.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll be okay.”

“If it is any consolation, she’s avoiding me.” She chuckled at that, a small smile forming on your lips.

“It does make me feel a bit better, but not actually,” she seemed to think of her next words. “Just go with her okay? Don’t fucked that up, Y/n.” You couldn't understand how kind she was being, she had a heart of gold. Even if you were the one who broke it.

“Can I just–?” You stepped forward, she knew exactly what you were trying to say.

You hugged her tightly, as if trying to put her back together, but you knew a hug wasn’t going to do the job. You felt her relaxed under your touch as she took a deep breath.

“I am really sorry.” You whispered in her ear. You guessed she was probably done with you apologizing, still you felt her nodding.

Once you two broke apart, you could tell she was a bit better. Betty knew you really meant every word you’d said. Still hurt like a bitch, but she knew it was for the best.

“Just go, Y/n.” A tight smile formed on her lips.

And with that you walked away, feeling a little less guilty than three days ago. Still you had work to do. You had to talk to a certain someone.

“Okay, that went better than what I had expected,” Raffie said once you got in her car. “Should we get milkshakes? I feel like this was a win.”

“Not yet, I need to talk to your sister.” A sigh escaped from Raffie’s mouth.

“Okay, fine, but once you get your driver's license, you are the one driving me everywhere.” You laughed at that, even when you were a mess she could still make you laugh. You looked at her and she tried to be serious for a whole second, but once she glanced at you, she couldn’t hide her own smile anymore.

[...]

“Florence!” You were knocking on her door nonstop. Your knuckles were starting to hurt, but you weren’t going to give up that easily. You knew you could just use Raffie’s spare key, but you wanted her to open the door, not break into her house. “I know you are in there, your car is here, and I can see your shadow through the window.” You were about to keep on knocking when she finally opened the goddamn door.

“Oh my god! Just stop, okay?” Even though it was clear she was angry, your heart skipped a beat once you saw her. She was mad at you for some unknown reason, you were mad about her being mad, but she still looked gorgeous. Especially since she was only wearing a big t-shirt covering her whole body and what you assumed were the shortest shorts ever made in history.

“Hi,” she only moved away so you could come in. “Why have you been avoiding me, huh?” you said once you were inside.

“Do you want a drink? I need a drink.” She made her way towards the kitchen and poured herself straight vodka.

“Florence.”

“What? You were avoiding me too, I’m not stupid, Y/n.”

“Okay, fine, I was. I had to clear things up with Betty,” Florence rolled her eyes at the mention of her. “What’s your excuse?”

“Do you really want to know?” She raised her eyebrows at you.

“Yes. Yes, I do.” You didn’t have any idea why she was so mad at you.

“You left me. You left me and all that was going through your mind was her.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, a laugh escaped from your mouth.

“Are you being serious right now?” You couldn't hold the grin forming on your face.

“I’m dead serious, what are you laughing at?” You moved closer to her.

“I just can’t believe you, Florence Rose Pugh, are jealous.” You were now holding her by her waist. She tried to escape from your grasp but you wouldn’t let her go and after a few seconds she was done fighting.

“I’m not jealous.”

“Oh, yes you are. Do you wanna know how I know?” You didn’t let her answer. “Because you are frowning right now, which means you are mad, but your jaw is clenched which only confirms to me that you are, in fact, jealous. Your breathing is uneven, which tells me that I make you nervous. And you’re biting the inside of your left cheek, which you only do when you know the other person is right, but you don’t want to admit it out loud.”

She moved her eyes away from you, trying to hide the smile forming on her lips from you.

“I know all of those things, because I know you.”

Florence loved hearing you said that, it only meant that you paid attention to her as much as she paid attention to you. It meant that you were as crazy about her as she was about you.

“Okay, this is when you kissed me to make me forget how mad I am–.”

Before she finished you connected your lips to hers. Her soft lips drove you mad, you could taste the vodka in her lips. But you didn’t mind at all, her whole presence was already intoxicating. You pressed her body against yours, a soft moan escaping from her lips. You wanted to feel every part of her. You were about to move your lips to her neck when you heard the door being opened.

“Ahh, why do I always have to find you two with your tongues in each other’s throat. Agh, disgusting, absolutely disgusting,” Your best friend faked a gag which made Florence laugh. “I’m guessing everything worked out just fine. But I still want my milkshake. Do you guys want to come or are you busy?” You rolled your eyes at her.

“Let’s go. After driving me around the whole day the least I could do is pay for your damn milkshake.” You pecked Florence's lips promising her that you would be back after dealing with her little sister. After all, you two had to finish what Raffie had interrupted.

Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated! <3

-M

#florence pugh #florence pugh x reader #florence pugh x y/n #florence pugh x you #florence pugh x fem reader #florence pugh imagine #imagine #littlexscarletxwitch's fic #your fav florence pugh blog <3

180 notes · View notes

stuckytoyoulikeglue · 1 year ago

Text

Fun fact; once I'm done with the first draft of a fic, I leave myself a little note at the top of the file with a list of stuff I still need to do in order to get it ready to publish.

This list always starts with 'redraft' and is usually followed by things like 'pick a title', 'write the synopsis', 'compile a tag list', 'check the continuity of X thing that I decided to change halfway through writing', 'make sure the bit that's supposed to be canon-compliant is actually canon-compliant and not just some-fic-I-read-that-I've-now-mixed-up-with-canon-compliant' etc. etc..

It's generally very useful, because I have a terrible memory and way too many WIPs, so I have no chance of keeping it all straight in my head (and no one wants to get to the point where they're ready to publish only to discover they've forgotten to think of a title).

On top of that, when a fic begins to approach final draft status, I try and leave a fair amount of time between each rework so I can re-read what I've done with relatively fresh eyes, which means I'm even less likely to remember what I still need to do (and it really is very annoying when you think you're pretty much done and then realise you have to name the thing. Naming things is hard).

Anyway, at that point of the process my to do list is usually just 'proof read' and 'make sure that one paragraph I've already rewritten three thousand times isn't too clunky', but today I found a note on a fic I've been working on for literal years (and which I actually thought was done) that simply said:

Stop stressing. It's fine.

Fine.

So, yeah, I would really like to thank my past self for that ringing endorsement.

Guess I'll be reworking that one again, then...

#fanfic problems #writer problems #writing is hard

33 notes · View notes

messrsbyler · 2 years ago

Note

Hello!! what do you think about the tag those days? do you have a fav blog? who do you think is saving the tag from dying with posts and theories?

i think the tag is slowly dying tbh and it's sad to see? the reality is that for the past year or so the tag has been kept alive (from what i've seen and my personal experience here) because of art/fic creators and analysis blogs. however, it's been a year since s4 dropped and as i've seen some people around the tag say, everything that could've been analysed or said about byler in the last season or all seasons has already been said. now, i personally LOVE doing analysis even to this day, doesn't matter if i'm probably repeating something someone else spotted and blogged about two months ago. it's fun to make those posts, but we can't ignore that they are becoming repetitive and that side of the tag is burning out. because of that, things like fics/art/headcanons/ficlets/aus are so important now.

we don't have to run out of content to enjoy in our tag, but people should be willing to step outside their comfort zone and accept that canon is limited to what can he done and said about byler. aus however open new doors that this tag hasn't really explored yet, and for some reason there's a bit of resistance? and that leads us to a dead end because then there's no new not repetitive content and the tag starts dying even with its huge following.

another issue is definitely the lack of rb in the tag. i can jump on any post in the byler tag and check the notes and i know the ratio between likes and rbs will be ridiculous. ofc i can't force anyone to rb if they don't want to, but liking a post and not rb kills a post bc it stops reaching new people who will then engage with said post and then it will reach even more blogs. liking does nothing, it's a dummy button.

rb not only allows a post to stay alive, it's also a great opportunity to create conversations in the tags and engage with other people on this side of the internet. and well if you aren't into that or don't like to add tags to every rb, a simple rb still does much more than a like.

i have many fav blogs and i'll probably forget some, but from the top of my head i have @andiwriteordie (writer and au lover) @foodiewithdahoodie (amazing takes and headcanons) @astrobei (writer and artist) @wiseatom (amazing writer) @doriandrifting (analysis and amazing takes) @emblazons (amazing takes and gifs) @mayahawkins (one of the best gif creators in the tag) @perexcri (amazing writer) @likegoldintheair (amazing writer and amazing headcanons/ficlets) @elekinetic (amazing writer and amazing scripts) @kidovna (beautiful art and aus and comics) @noodles-and-tea (art art art i am obsessed) @nnilkyway (again beautiful art) @strangeswift (writer and a fun blog to check out) and many more that i'm probably forgetting right this moment.

if you (anyone who is reading this) have a blog rec pls lmk!!! i'm always looking for new byler content!!

(if you have stonathan blogs recs uh also lmk i need more stonathans on my dashboard thanks)

#asks #byler #byler tumblr

96 notes · View notes

wirewitchviolet · 4 months ago

Text

I hate Steam, and it's weird that you don't.

Easily, hands down, the single worst piece of software I have ever had on any computer is Steam, the game shopping/library/I-guess-social-media-app? from Valve that I'm fairly certain anyone who has ever used a personal computer to play a video game within the past, what, 20 years or so, is quite familiar with. It's ubiquitous. People have a level of affection for it they get kinda frighteningly weird about. But it is honestly JUST THE WORST, and I'm going to ramble about why for a good bit under the fold here.

I hate Steam as a store.

Primarily, Steam is a storefront. If I want to purchase a game to play on my computer I can, and often have to, either launch this here app or use the same credentials on a website, where I can fill in my credit card info and, one would assume, get a copy a game I can then install and play. But uh... while this is nowhere near the top of my personal list of issues with Steam, it is worth noting that that is not actually the nature of such a transaction, really.

What I am really paying for, in practice, is for whatever game it is to be "activated in my Steam library." That means I can then open the Steam app, pick that game off a list, and click a download button, which WILL grab all of that game's files from a server and copy them onto my computer, but not in the form of an executable application I can move around and properly back up and launch on its own. Rather, what I have downloaded is a plug-in for the Steam app that will let me launch that game from within the Steam app, if the Steam app is currently connected to the internet and having a good day. In every other context where any other piece of software pulls that kind of crap, everyone quite rightfully throws a fit over it, and frequently will outright refuse. Sometimes things go to court over companies insisting on this weird level of control and spying over the files people have on their own computers. I have plenty to get into about this later, but I'm still not done griping about Steam as a store.

Because see, sometimes, exchanging money for a game to be activated in a steam library doesn't even work. For whatever reason that I'm sure makes sense to someone's accountant, activation of a game in a steam library is based on the use of I want to say 16 character unique "activation keys," and sometimes they run out. Admittedly this issue comes up more frequently when I am acquiring a game from somewhere other than steam- a giveaway the developer is running, buying something from the Humble store and getting a steam key from them instead of a direct download, backing something on kickstarter, whatever. But PRETTY FREQUENTLY, I give someone my money, and in return I get a little notification that "Steam keys for this product are not in stock." I don't get my money back. I don't get some kind of gift card to use on something else. I just get, "welp, sorry! We don't actually have the thing you paid for available! Check back sometime later and we might?" And the operative word there is might. There are games I've paid for whose keys have been out of stock for YEARS. Oh and sometimes, those keys expire! I pay money for a game, get what is essentially a tag to take up to the front counter, and if I don't get on that, someone just pockets my money and I get nothing. Sometimes this happens THE DAY I PURCHASE IT. Sometimes THE DAY BEFORE I PURCHASE IT. No warning up front.

So, OK. Surely though there is some upside to this weird key tracking setup, right? Like if I somehow get into a situation where I have a key for a game that I already own (perhaps it's my birthday, and two people both decided to gift me the same game that I had on my wishlist). I have the one activated copy. I put in this second code and... here's a message that I already have this. Oh well OK. Will you refund me for the key then? No. ... can I pass the key along to someone else who also wants that game? I believe it depends, but the answer is at least sometimes no. Especially if there's some sort of sale or bundle involved, no splitting those keys up between several people, arbitrarily. Steam is all too happy to just take your money in these sorts of situations and give you nothing in return. Hell, I can think of at least 3 or 4 instances when I have ended up with an activation key or an on-site sales button for a game with various DLC expansions included, and because I already owned the base game, I was unable to activate this extra copy with the DLC included. No DLC for me, no refund.

Those pretty serious issues aside, it's just... really badly laid out and run as a store. Plenty of people will gripe about how hard it is to find something, or how there will just be a weird mix of porn and shovelware (often describing the same game) on the front page, but even just working out what you're buying or what a sale covers is kind of a confusing mess? Like right now, going to the front page, here's a big Wales Interactive sale. Let's just click through that and... OK what the hell is this complete mess? Don't judge me if you see "in library" on garbage by the way, it was all blind box bundle stuff. Anyway right at the top of this special dedicated sale page we've got

OK the one horror thing is 25% off... or 27% off with its DLC. The other is 81% off. Let me just scroll down more though...

OK so wait the one game they're really pushing the hardest here has a deluxe edition, an ultimate edition, and a collector's edition. All on sale, I think all with the DLC bundled in... and like, this version here is "-20% -33% so $51.66" and this other version which comes bundled with a whole other game is "-10% -58% $21.14" What are we even trying to convey? In what world would the former be a good deal? And those FMV bundles are similarly confusing. Well, let me just click through and see if it's clearer looking at just this one game and see if that clears it up?

No! Somehow this is even more confusing! I can however apparently buy just this game, if I were inclined, for MORE MONEY than buying this game bundled with this other game I already own. Why? How? Or if I want the DLC, I can get it with all the DLC for $50, OR I can get it with all the DLC for $30? Again, I am just incredibly confused, and glad I really don't have any desire to own this and don't need to care.

I will say though that the first time I ever purchased anything from Steam it was when they were running a sale like this on the Oddworld games. The confusing as hell bundle buttons and redirects and such set up a world wherein I had the option of getting literally every Oddworld game to date (this was before New and Tasty was a thing) for $25 OR I could get a bundle of every game except for Munch's Oddysee... the one game I had never had a chance to play before... plus those were uh... older buggier PC ports apparently. Anyway something bugged out in the cart, I had two identical things in there, just listed as "Oddworld..." and I end up charged for the.... objectively terrible option instead of literally that plus a whole other game.

So you know, IMMEDIATELY, when I see the full list of what I'm actually getting for the first time after hitting confirm, I see something went wrong, and promptly set about trying to cancel that/order the correct thing/get hold of some tech support person because hey what the hell? Now with LITERALLY ANY OTHER STORE, this would get taken care of immediately. Online, brick and mortar, whatever. In person? "Hey, I gave you the money for these 5 things, you only put 4 of them in my bag." "Oh sorry, here you go!" or "Hey the wrong thing was on the shelf" or "hey this literally wasn't in the box" these get sorted. I've had online stores literally send me completely the wrong order, got that sorted out. I've ordered clothes that didn't fit, they refunded me and didn't even want me sending the baby-sized one back. I once had a weird collision where a friend bought me a whole huge pricy bundle of games and software from itch.io, because she had contributed to it and wanted to share, meanwhile I bought it myself for the same reason. One quick support e-mail and I got them to send HER a refund, like within 5 minutes. Steam though? It has literally been a decade now, multiple support tickets, I still don't have my collection, no refund, nothing.

And you know just sticking with this a moment... appeasing customers upset about this sort of thing is kinda the one thing stores are for. If something is on sale in a store for $50, that store paid somewhere between $5 and $25 for that to whoever supplied it to them. When I buy it, I am forwarding along that small percentage of the price to the people who actually made the thing, and the rest of the money I am forking over is me paying the store for the service of making this a low stress low headache situation. Functionally that means I am buying insurance against random weird issues like... paying for something and not getting it. It happens rarely enough that the store still profits, but sometimes yeah you just give an angry customer whatever the hell they're haranguing you about, even if you're confused about what their deal is, so they don't spend the next decade griping to everyone about how terrible your store is to anyone who will listen and swear off ever shopping there again. Especially if they have a paper trail on how you didn't give them what they were attempting to buy. But anyway, moving on to the next problem.

Wait no! One more thing! It is SHOCKINGLY DIFFICULT to do gift shopping on steam! If I set up a wishlist, nobody can see it unless they're friends with me, and even then it's kinda weirdly buried in submenus to a point where I always need to search up a guide on how to even find it. And you'd think there'd be some option to just like... buy one of these keys everything is using for a game, and mail it to someone as a surprise gift, but nope. Not an option. Everything about buying a game for a friend or relative is like pulling teeth. In the store for buying games.

I hate Steam as a launcher app.

There is really no reason for launcher apps to exist. We are all perfectly capable of, say, putting all of our games into a nice little "Games" directory on our computer and setting a nice shortcut to that or whatever other little organizational things we might want to do. I will grant that just freaking displaying a directory is something Windows in particular is weirdly bad at, but it does a better job than Steam does. Just opening this window with a list of games requires a weird amount of startup, possibly a login, it puts a shocking load on processor and ram. It opens a big annoying pop-up ad. It signs me into a messenger app I'm never going to use. And when I'm done with it, attempting to close it out like any other piece of software on my computer just straight up does not work. In theory if I formally "Exit Steam" from a drop-down it will cleanly quit, but sometimes I forget, and I swear, sometimes that doesn't do the trick, and while it certainly looks like Steam isn't open from a glance at my taskbar, if I open up my task manager, here's like... 5 separate running instances of something called "Steam Web Helper" and one of them is eating AN ENTIRE FREAKING GIG of RAM! It is absolutely absurd for anything to ever be doing that. The only other thing I have that eats RAM that absurdly is my web browser, where I have like 200 tabs open across 20 windows at any given time, all loaded up with gross bloated sphagetti scripts instead of functional code. But it's not like this Steam web helper is secretly a web-browser opening pages up for every game in my library or anything right?

... no apparently that's what it is. Yeah all those screenshots, trailers, reviews, "community content" sections full of creepy fan art and Russian youtube LPs of games that load up in a full page splash zone when you're just trying to click the name of a game off a simple text list and hit launch are secretly a big web page we're quietly launching an invisible web browser to load up. And hey, even if you don't have that window open, it's still loaded. And even if you go mess with preferences and ask not to be spammed with all this stuff, it's still loaded. And even if you try to keep steam closed at all times to avoid the whole mess, it really likes to worm its way in to load on boot up and also update itself whenever it feels like it.

And hey! Speaking of updates! The real reason the steam launcher even exists of course is to serve as super aggressive DRM (the sort where even if you have single player games locally "installed," you can't play them if you are offline or otherwise unable to connect to Steams servers, and to spam you with those pop-up ads, but the sales pitch to keep you from just treating the whole thing as gross malware is that there is some convenience here. Doesn't matter if you have 10 computers scattered about, Steam will keep your favorite games all ready to go and fully up to date and cloud sync saved data between them so they can be loaded up at the touch of a button!

Well that end of things straight up sucks. I am inherently distrustful of automated updates in general. I tend to hit a version of a given piece of software I like, and from there on any further updates can only make it worse. Also, I like to have total control of when my bandwidth is being hogged. I don't want to be streaming a movie, or hosting a stream on twitch, and have oh... Steam, let's say, decide that 100% of my bandwidth is needed RIGHT THIS MINUTE, because there was a 30 gig update for I dunno, Granny Simulator. But... Steam feels differently, and will absolutely queue that up. Even after I dug through preferences looking for a way to disable that. Even when I don't have the game in question installed, and haven't had it installed for years, if ever. Aside from the serious bandwidth issue, I constantly find myself mysteriously out of disk space because Steam decided it was time to download a huge patch for some game or other I've never even touched, and I just have to go through like I'm hunting for mushrooms in a basement or something finding these unwanted games.

And it doesn't even really keep them up to date! I end up with games that are "fully installed and ready to launch" but when I try, I have to sit there for upwards of multiple hours after hitting launch buttons because oh, the installation process forgot that every game for some baffling reason needs its own personal copy of DirectX and 20 other software dependencies, and it just didn't feel like running the installers for those when installing the game.

The worst part though is the damn cloud sync saves. I have absolutely lost count of how many dozens or hundreds of times I have completely lost all save data for a game because some cloud sync failed, or an automatic update corrupted save files. Or less damaging but still quite annoying, I've lost my connection to steam while playing a game, causing my local save to be more up to date than the version stored on a server, and Steam's answer to that is TOO FREAKIN' BAD! There is, to my knowledge, absolutely no way to push a save file to the cloud by hand. It is always considered the master copy, and if it's out of date or corrupted, oh well. I didn't ask for this, I'm always playing on my one desktop, but I just gotta deal.

I... greatly dislike Steam as a compatibility layer.

So the thing with Steam and the separate copy of DirectX for every individual game is that IN THEORY, Steam does a lot of handy things behind the scenes to get older games to work smoothly on modern hardware. And it... often does a kind of OK job at that? I put it through its paces on that front more than most people do, streaming my whole library, which includes some 20 or 30 year old games, but... most of those are from modern promotions explicitly linked to Steam so you'd think those would all be guaranteed to... run, at all. Hopefully not too many would have terrible interactions with the resolution on my monitor. DOS games in particular tend to really suck through Steam. There's a one size fits all DOSBox solution, but... it's an old buggy version of DOSBox, and if I could just manually launch a more current and nicely customized one and run these things through that, and not have it, you know, completely break should I alt-tab away, that'd be nice. But I can't. Because aggressive DRM.

I hate Steam as a social media... thing.

Back at the dawn of time, I like a lot of other people made the mistake of picking AOL as an internet service provider. Everything about this was absolutely miserable, except for the whole Instant Messenger thing. That was a nice way to stay in touch with people that I used for many many years... and the reason I used it for many many years was that it was available as a small lightweight independent program I could still use for decades past when I swore off AOL forever. Steam has a little chat thing, but... it does not have that very important feature. I can't access my steam friends chat deal unless I am actively running this awful piece of software that eats more than half my RAM and fills my hard drive with garbage. And also, you know, I have multiple other ways to keep in touch with people. If I did use it though, I'd hate the UI. And I hate how you have to cut through it half the time to invite a friend to play a multiplayer game.

Beyond that, Steam has all this "community" stuff where... again, unless I actively disable it, I'm bombarded with weird LPs and fan art and this whole baffling ecosystem of neo-nazis spamming negative reviews at everything not staring a white guy and... reviewing each other's reviews like some kind of weird reddit gold system? Totally burying any useful information, and also throwing "user tags" on games destroying any sort of usable organizational info. And then there's trading cards? I've never understood what those are about. It all just seems terrible, and I want to be rid of it, and it definitely enables all kinds of horrible stalking, too.

I hate Steam as... you know, a general vestige of horrible capitalistic crap?

While Steam isn't the ONLY game in town as far as a store you can buy games from, it has enough of a stranglehold on things, and this weird cult-like following of people who I guess missed out on the whole 16-bit console wars thing and are hellbent on recreating it with... what stores people shop at. So there's a lot of baseline stupidity and aggressive weirdos from that, but also, as a developer, you really can't afford not to put stuff in the Steam store, which as I understand it is the absolute worst deal financially for any possible place you can sell a game these days, and forces developers to eat the loss with the constant weirdly advertised sales. Plus, you know, I personally have like... two or three thousand games right now which I can ONLY run if I have Steam going. Eventually it's going down and taking all those with them. Any unilateral policy changes Steam makes, we're all stuck with. Games get pulled without warning or recourse. Hell, game developers get snatched up by Valve on the promise of getting their stuff published and getting relocated to... maintenance projects on Steam with their projects killed. So that all sucks.

But again, mostly I hate the bloated malware aspect and them stiffing me on a game a decade ago. And it's weird that everyone seems to just give them infinite free passes on all this stuff while harping on anyone else they see doing similar stuff.

#steam #valve #malware #monopolies #drm

6 notes · View notes