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butterbabyflapjack · 4 months ago

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✧˖° Brian Moser x serial killer fem!reader

✧˖° summary:

The Ice Truck Killer’s back in town, and somehow he's stuck babysitting you; Miami's newest would-be killer.

Helping you out wasn't at all his original intention–he'd rather see you dead, you know far too much–but he supposes he could spare an evening to undomesticate that hungry beast inside you. Show you how to really live your life.

In which Brian helps you kill someone who utterly deserves it, and the kill room turns into a horny sex-fueled bloodbath.

✧˖° wordcount (chapter 1): 5k

✧˖° chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six

✧˖° ao3

✧˖° warnings: serial killer fem!reader, reader insert, explicit sexual content, rough sex, passionate sex, fucking in a kill room, dark romance, dark comedy, canon typical depictions of blood and gore, enthusiastic consent, mutual pining, impact play, playing with your food, serial killers in love, banter, dirty talk, voice kink, trauma bonding, babysitting a serial killer, implied sexual abuse of a child (you're killing this mf don’t worry), torture (you’re torturing this mf don’t worry), Brian is his own warning, enemies to lovers, biting, daddy issues?, blood play, a bit of angst a dash of bloodlust & a heavy splash of spice, Brian loves to fluster you and he won't shut the hell up going about it, Brian survives season 1 in this house

✧˖° author's note:

This is ridiculous, horny, bloody, silly and dark (in essence, a very dark romantic comedy), so please heed the tags!

Starts after season 1, but with Brian escaping. Sorry if there’s any rough spots, I kinda rushed editing this.

ch.1 is from Brian’s POV, and the rest of the story is from yours. And there aren't nearly enough problematic female characters in the world so I'm making you one 😃

✧˖° chapter 1

Hello again, Miami.

Didn’t think I’d see you again this soon.

What’s it been? Eight months? Since I was your most highly wanted criminal?

Guess I just couldn’t stay away.

Time flies when you’re laying low.

Guess I just missed you.

But really, my reason for coming back to dear old Miami–my home, both my real and spiritual birthplace–has a name, a life, and a face. Your name, if you’re really so curious. Your life. Your face. And I intend to leave what remains of all three of those things behind to the hungry bellies of gators before once more absconding stage left.

But why, you might ask? Why do I want to kill you? Horrified, scandalized, even. For what reason had you to die by my skillful hand? And the answer to that is simple: death doesn’t need a reason. Death simply is, and I simply enjoy it.

Though…

Regardless of that irrefutable fact…

I’ll admit.

This particular death–your death–has a slightly more personal reason. And that reason, or at least its causation, was currently chit-chatting with me on the phone.

“Your plane lands at eight?” Dexter asked, and I didn’t waste time with a nod when he wouldn’t see it. Simply staring out across the coast of Costa Rica, the sunset reflected within the dark shadow of my gaze.

Costa Rica… and I’d really wanted to retire somewhere cold.

Not that this was retirement.

It was more of an… unplanned, involuntary vacation. Just until the heat from the feds cooled down.

Then again, I wasn’t waiting for the temp to drop before planning this little excursion back to Miami. But you’d sorta forced my hand in that regard, now hadn’t you?

“Hope you don’t mind if I crash on the couch,” I said, good-natured, and I knew he wouldn’t object. My brother couldn’t feel much–much more than myself–but I sensed a sort of guilt in him for how he’d previously driven me off those eight months ago. Choosing a fake sibling over a real one, one who actually knew who he was… I’d say the guilt had good cause.

I could hear him at his quaint living room/office combo’s computer, typing away at something. Perpetually Distracted Dexter.

“Yeah–yeah, that’d be great,” he said.

I exhaled a little sigh whilst listening to the soft waves roll in beside me. “Why do I feel there’s a but coming?”

“No buts,” said Dexter. “I just, uh…” He seemed distracted, but not by whatever he typed. “I’ll just have a friend over tomorrow. She’ll probably be here when you arrive.”

Ah.

The friend.

The one I’d been silently wishing Dex would just kill himself. Grow suddenly bored of you.

Wishful thinking.

He seemed quite fond.

He wouldn’t shut up about you. Always and forever droning on.

It wasn’t romantic, this interest, or so I’d come to suspect over all these past droning months. I didn’t exactly ask about that, though, half because I really didn’t care and half because of how much the subject of you annoyed me, raised over and over again and ugh, just give it a rest already.

Dex shouldn’t have ‘friends’. The mere concept a fairytale, a mask to people like us. It should be just he and I, two hunters against the world, hunting whomever we like.

“Ah,” I voiced aloud, with the sugar-flaked pleasantry of someone who wasn’t at all picturing severing your aorta with an icepick. “Your little friend will be there to greet me. How nice.”

Dexter must have misread the edge of sarcasm as some sort of concern. “She already knows you’re coming. Don’t worry, she can be trusted.”

Just more proof that my do-good, misguided brother is far too trusting.

“Well,” I said, as though accepting this point as fact. You really can be trusted with my and my brother's secrets–such relief! “I look forward to finally meeting her.” And carving and slicing and dicing her.

I must have forgotten to include that last part out loud, and thus Dexter had no objection–even sounding strangely relieved by my show of good faith in at long last having this introduction.

“See you tomorrow night,” he said, and my lips formed a little smile–instinctual, without any warmth.

“See you then,” I said, then hung up.

And now; here I am. Back in the ever-enchanting sunshine state. My former playground of frozen, meticulously broken toys, and it feels much more like home to be back than I even expected, with just the small matter of ridding you from these sentimental, familial walls.

Walking the concrete pathway to Dex’s Palm Terrace place was nearly surreal, assaulting the walls of my person with waves of distant memories. I’d broken into his beachfront apartment so many times before. Snooping around, getting to know him. Leaving gifts tied up with little red bows. I was basically murderous Saint Claus.

I had only one bag, having traveled here light–a black leather crossbody, which I thumbed the broad strap of whilst knocking with mild knuckles against the door.

Silence. Then, footsteps. Then–

Dexter throws open the door, a smile formed ear to ear like a big, goofy animal.

“Brian,” he says, and somehow it melts me. Chips slightly away at all that frigid, cold frost round my cruel, vacant heart. And his eyes dip over the state of me. The longer hair, dark curls well past my ears, now; just long enough to tuck back but not long enough to stay there. The dark scruff which coats my angled jawline in the absence of shaving for so long.

“Dig the beard,” Dexter says. “Quite the disguise. Bet the ladies love it.”

I smile at the compliment, though if he'd hated the look I'd feel much the same. “One does what one has to to effectively blend,” I return. And it’s hard not to feel somewhat warm, somewhat seen, understood, by my brother before me. The only person in this world who accepts who I am.

Well, not wholly.

Thanks for nothing, Debra.

Still. Since the death of our mother, Dex is the only place I’ve ever belonged, and seeing him now I’m abruptly struck with just how long it’s been.

I don’t wait for him to welcome me in–he’s probably too cordially stunted to properly welcome me, anyway. I just step right up and throw both my arms around him, my baby brother, my other half; cuffing him firmly on the back as I breathe him in.

“It’s been too long,” I say, holding him there for a moment, before pulling back.

Dexter’s expression is torn into a million indecipherable things, but amongst them is his affection for me. The brother who’ll always see him for who he really is. Who truly fathoms that insatiable beast inside him.

The bliss of our reunion’s forced to end, however, because this house has a rat problem. And as I hear a small, feminine throat being cleared from the fluorescent-lit depths behind my brother, my curiosity gets the better of me.

Time to finally put a face to the name I’ve been loathing for weeks.

And there you are. Standing before a metal-limbed armchair nuzzled inside the living room, like you’d sat there then stiffly stood up; uprooted at the sound of my knocking. Frozen, now; lingering. Like you’re caught in a trap you don’t know your way out of. Hands fidgeting as they twist at the hem of your shirt.

It’s like you know you don’t belong here–that this moment is Dexter’s and mine–and for the cleverness of that, at least, I must inwardly applaud you. Though that’s decidedly where all my praise ends.

This is one of those social situations I’ve learned so well to navigate through life in the foster system, masking my aberrance. Awkwardness. Other people’s–not mine. And though I could so effortlessly put you at ease as you stand there fidgeting, I find it more entertaining to draw that part out. For a while, at least.

I must admit, I hadn’t pictured you at all in my head. What you’d look like. Not as anything more than an aggravating, compromising blip I’d soon snuff out the threat of. But if I had pictured you, I wouldn’t have imagined you looking, so…

…Well.

You’re not…

Unnatractive.

I feel one dark brow slowly raising.

And you’re only a friend…?

Whatever must poor Rita think? Seeing the two of you together?

Dexter. You dog.

My eyes trace your expression as you awkwardly hover there in the length of my speculative pause. Myself perfectly content to allow you to hang there in a noose of discomfort all night, and then some. Though eventually I know one of us will have to say something.

This is our fated and much anticipated formal introduction, after all.

So at what feels like long last, I throw you the lifeline that is my smarmiest smile. Knowing full well you won’t know it’s not real. No one but Dex ever does.

“And you must be the friend I’ve heard so much about,” I greet you pleasantly, my deep voice threaded with warmth. Though, peculiarly, that unsure tension in you remains stubbornly in place. Seems if anything only to grow, despite my intent to disarm it.

Huh.

Oh well–it doesn’t deter me. Killing you will be so much easier if you don’t see it coming, so I’m keen on you liking me, letting your guard down. Thus, I graciously continue:

“You have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to finally having you right in front of me.”

Maybe a bit of truth will lube you up. And I watch as your lower lip’s sucked in between your teeth for just a moment whilst you eye me; the motion drawing my studious gaze like a shark’s to blood.

“And why is that?” you ask, which admittedly I wasn’t expecting. Such a nervous mouse, yet you’d put me on the spot.

I can’t place your nerves. I’m perfectly charming. And yes, you’re aware I’m the notorious Ice Truck Killer, but I’m not sure why that would be alarming. Not with the company you keep; namely, my murderous brother. So it must be something else.

And I so hate not knowing things.

“So I can be introduced to you in person, of course,” I say, like it’s obvious, and it should be. Striding in past Dexter as he steps aside to allow me in, shutting and latching the door behind us all; a roomful of killers, or so I’ve been told.

Our eyes never stray in my steady approach; not yours, not mine. My height soon towering over yours, which isn’t unusual for me when meeting new people, nor when standing near almost anyone. Offering my hand and a smile I’ve been told is quite dashing. “Dex has had such wonderful things to say about you.” And I’m sure he has, I just couldn’t be bothered to remember any of them.

My smile could melt steel as if it was butter.

“I’m Brian.”

I won’t lie, I expected you to crumble. Most women love this move. The confidence, the approachable self-assurance. But you eye my outstretched hand as though I might pull you into the fires of hell with me were you to take it, before craning your neck to meet my gaze once more.

“Charmed,” is all you say; unmoving.

Something about that irks a small ripple up my nape, but I just allow my hand to drop graciously back to my side. All practiced, svelte charm still in place.

“So,” I say, by all appearance unconcerned by the lack of civility in my brother’s ill choice of friends. “It almost feels like I already know you, what with the way Dexter’s gone on and on.”

Your gaze steals over to Dexter, hovering there in the distance behind us, before you smile up at me again in a way which feels forced. And I suppose you’re not the talkative sort, though why you keep glancing at Dexter as if waiting for something from him, as if he’ll swoop in and save you, I’m uncertain about.

In due time I’ll figure it out.

“But there’s still one thing I’m curious about,” I say, turning to make myself comfortable. It has been a long trip to get here, after all.

I plop down like a wolf amongst sheep atop Dexter’s hideous couch, legs spread like I own the damn food chain. One arm draped out along the length of its backrest as I eye you somewhat expectantly, still rigid in how you stand. Imagining what you might look like strung upside down by your ankles with a lengthy strap of duct tape kissing those soft lips, holding them shut for me.

The shadows beneath my eyes pinch.

It’s a lovely image.

Maybe you’ll see for yourself.

“And what’s that?” Dexter asks–bravo, Dexter–at least one of you’s courteous enough to ask. And I tilt my darkly curled head at him.

“How exactly did the two of you get to know one another?” I ask. Watching him. Eying you. Hoping my focus might rattle you–just a little. “I’m sure it’s an interesting tale.”

“I’ve already told you,” Dexter says, and he probably has, at least in his unabbreviated sense. “We work together at the precinct.” He dons his playful tone I often find so silly but right now I find I detest. “The lab geek and the cop~”

“Right. But that’s not what I mean,” I slice into his futile comedy routine, “What I mean, is: how did our friend here come to know you’re one of Miami’s most heinous, uncaught serial killers?”

The other, of course, being myself; excepting the whole uncaught thing.

Dex is lucky I’m so forgiving.

I put it forth bluntly, with little room for either one of you to wiggle out of answering. And though my radiance of charisma remains, my intensity’s keen. ‘Cause I must admit; now that I’m here, I’m curious about you. Especially when you seem like such a rabbit in a household of jackals. Weren’t you supposed to be some like-minded killer or something? Perhaps I should have paid closer attention whenever the unwanted topic of you had come up in mine and Dexter’s conversations, instead of bitterly tuning you out.

Strangely, Dexter doesn’t seem to know what to say, and neither do you. Like the story’s too long, too elaborate. As though there's pieces the two of you’d rather omit.

Fascinating.

“She helped me out,” Dex says at last; monotonously shallow, like the words aren’t even his, like he's rehearsed this. “In a time of need.”

I quirk a subtly mocking brow at him from where I’m idly lounged on the couch.

“Why do you sound like a generic thankyou card?” Why, indeed. “C’mon, baby brother–I want specifics. You can tell me.” My dusky gaze passes from him to his lovely, curious friend, hovered opposite the ugly coffee table before me. “We’re all friends here, right?”

It would seem that my smile unnerves you. Which might be annoying if it wasn’t so entertaining a thing to see.

Dexter sighs before trying a more human answer, leaning one bulky shoulder against his white, open-backed bookcase that separates his living room from the office attached.

This whole effectively communicating thing is hard for him.

“It was sort of an accident,” he says, like that’s far more telling. The lacking details seeming to spur you to chime in.

“It was really just me being in the wrong place at the right time,” you elaborate, with the passive front of one pretending the ice they walk on won’t at any moment begin to splinter. Folding your arms against that pensive look I toss you, which I tilt my head in silent question of. Why so nervous? I’m far from daunting, aren’t I?

“I was called to check out an anonymous tip,” you continue, averting your gaze from me far more often than one normally does. “Some sort of suspicious activity at an abandoned storage shed near Palmetto. Myself and my parter.”

You glance at Dex, as if he might continue the tale for you, might rescue you from this, but when he merely quirks a little smile with a similar shrug, you’re forced into proceeding.

“It was supposedly related to a case–which it wasn’t, not that that matters, but…” You let out a breath. Seeming to steady yourself, the recollection, though for all your nervous fidgeting your tone is surprisingly calm. “I walked into the storage shed, it was unlocked, and… And I saw Dexter. Sawing someone’s arm off. Someone who was strapped down to a table in a plastic fucking tutu.”

You glance at Dex, as he detachedly watches you.

“Someone I knew from a previous case,” you continue. “Someone who deserved whatever it was Dexter was doing, and much more than that, too. Which is exactly when I shut that fucking door and assured my partner there was nothing to see here, and we left. Left Dexter to do what he does, undisturbed.”

That’s the end of your story, and I picture the scene, all while some predatorily protective part of me insists on clarifying, “So… That’s it? You saw my brother chopping a man into pieces, and were immediately okay with it? Go Team Dexter? Just like that?”

I try very little to hide my disbelief, ‘cause I don’t buy it. In my experience with cops, and I’ve had plenty, you all tend to be such sticklers when it comes to casual bloodshed and carnage. What’s more, your uptick in nerves isn’t exactly selling me.

My lashes lower in my deliberate examination of you. “Why’d you really not turn my dear brother in?”

In lieu of answering, you once more eye Dex, and that look between you says something.

“It’s complicated,” you say at last. Like you’re waiting for Dexter to speak, but he’d rather wait on you.

The pair of you. Really. You’re like a couple of tongue-tied, helpless kittens. Must I string this conversation on for you?

“Enlighten me,” I say, with something of an edge.

Perhaps I should’ve kept the disarmingly fake smile, because if anything you thrust your guard up.

“Look, I don’t owe you a full explanation of what Dexter and I have been through, okay?”

“Oh, I beg to differ,” I viperously put forth, my pretense of pleasantry slipping. “Seeing as how you know so much about myself. And all without my express knowledge or permission.”

An impermanent issue. One I won't leave Miami without personally seeing resolved. You know far too much–you’re an issue. For Dexter’s sake and for mine, we must unfortunately bid you bon voyage.

“I’d say it’s only fair I know a little more about you,” I continue, cordiality slipped back in place. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

The delicate line of your jaw tautens, eyes wavered with wariness and doubt. Refusing to spit out any more, though the longer you’re subject to my critical appraisal, the more the twine of your stubbornness unwinds.

“I… I need someone dead,” you admit at last.

Ah.

There it is.

“And, after seeing Dexter doing… what he does…” You bite your lower lip, as though struggling to recollect straying thoughts. “I need his help. I need his help to kill someone.”

I take my time mulling about your words. Piecing together the part you still aren't saying.

“So… You won’t turn Dexter in, so long as he helps you kill someone. Did I get that right?”

You bite down harsher–immediately shake your head. “No, it’s–it’s more complicated than that!”

But by now I’m barely listening. Turning instead to lift a wry brow at my brother, who’s watching this whole fiasco with a can-I-please-leave-yet look plastered upon his face.

“This is the friend you’ve been telling me about?” I wonder vaguely. “The cop who’s blackmailing you into helping her kill someone?”

“I’m a detective,” you cut in, like that matters, like I care, and I feel my eyes already rolling.

“Detective,” I sarcastically amend, with a scathing glance at you. “So sorry to offend, Detective Whoever-You-Are. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m talking to my brother.”

When you mutter back your name under your breath, I make a show of ignoring it.

“So, what?” I instead ask my foolish, good-hearted kin. “You’re actually going to help her kill someone?”

His lack of answer’s enough. And at his arms-folded silence, I ruminatively tut my tongue.

“Doesn’t seem like you, Dex… Not the edict-ruled brother I know.” I try not to let my tone grow too ingratiating whilst goading, “What about your beloved code?”

Dexter exhales a stiff breath. Putting forth, “It’s more than that.”

“More?”

“Like she said, it’s complicated.”

“Has the word ‘complicated’ been redefined as ‘indescribably moronic and impossible to explain’ sometime in the last fifteen seconds?” I return, incredulously flat. Eying their strange and stilted silence with dwindling patience. “What aren’t the two of you telling me…?”

You’re biting your lip like you’re biting back words, and I watch, waiting, biding my time for those bit-back words to get the better of you–though surprisingly, it’s Dexter who breaks first.

“It’s nothing about that, it’s…” He rubs the back of his sand-colored head, roughing his hair up with tense distraction. “Well, it is about that, in a sense. I didn’t know how to bring this up. I just… I have to leave town for the weekend,” he finally gets out. “First thing tomorrow morning, I’m headed out.”

I’m too nonplussed to hide the creeping edge of my bemusement.

That’s what he’s been having trouble saying?

He drops this like it’ll land like a bombshell on our entire reunion, before rushing at whatever my bland expression, “It’s just for a few days. I’ll be back Monday bright and early.”

To be honest, I’m mostly confused about why this seemed so hard for either one of you bumbling idiots to tell me. Or why you’re bumbling about it at all. Why should I care if he’ll be gone for forty-eight more measly hours after we've been separated for almost a year? And for many, many years before that? Does he actually expect me to mourn him till Monday?

“Big plans with the family?” I venture coolly, and Dexter’s broad shoulders bunch into a shrug, as though he’s cornered and a shrug is all that might save him.

“It’s a whole thing,” he explains. “Cody has a scouting trip, then Rita wanted to make a whole weekend out of it with the grandparents–I’ll spare you the details.”

Yes, thank you for that.

Dexter the family man. It’s so sweet it’s nauseating.

“So you’re taking your fake kids camping so you can keep playing domesticated dad to a woman and children who’d hate you if they knew who you really are?” My smile’s so feigned it hurts. “Sounds like a great time.”

My brother, the shrugger, shrugs once again. Doesn’t even try to defend my interpretive accusation. “I gotta be there.”

“Well have fun on your little adventure,” I muse; side-eying him. “Not sure why it took you this long to tell me. I’m sure I’ll find some way to busy myself in the meantime.”

You and Dexter exchange that look again. That look which betrays how you still haven’t shared whatever’s so lodged down your throats and wherever this is really going, and by this point it’s driving me toward wanting to just rip open your necks to drag whatever it is out, myself.

“Well, actually,” my brother begins, struggling once more with saying things. “I’ve already got an idea that’ll keep you busy in mind.”

I steady him in the crosshairs of my vision. Well. Now we might be getting somewhere. And I can’t deny my interest, much like my frustration, is piqued.

“Oh?”

“A favor, really,” he adds, without elaborating, and I really am going to rip the words right out of him.

“Are you going to tell me what that favor is?” I’m finally forced to ask, before glancing exasperatedly at you. “Or perhaps I should defer to your translator?”

There you go, nervously rubbing that elbow again, though I find myself oddly mesmerized by the motion of it. I can’t say for what cause, other than I’m not blind, and you’re obviously attractive. Watching you anxiously stand there is becoming one of my favorite pastimes.

“I, um,” you mumble, so quietly I almost can’t hear you. A nervous mouse again, one my nature is stirred to chase. “Well. Dexter was going to help me with–you know… What I was saying before. We have everything planned for tomorrow, and it has to happen tomorrow.” You seem strangely adamant about this, and I don’t care enough to question the ‘why’, just as I don’t care for the ‘who’–I’ll take your word for it. “But, um, with Dexter out of town…”

Helpless, as if to say any more’s an impossible task, you glance to Dexter for support.

“Really, the two of you,” I lowly muse. Eyes glistening between the pair of you, alight with my wicked amusement. Stretching out more broadly on the throne of Dexter’s hideous couch. “You could almost put a full sentence together so long as you tag one another in after every breath.”

The taunt’s enough to unlodge wherever Dexter’s tongue’s at.

“I need you to help her kill this guy while I’m gone,” he finally says bluntly. Arms folded, expression stern, yet hinted by what may as well be him begging me, which in itself, is…

Well. He’s never asked me for anything. Not like this. Though I certainly don’t owe him any favors…

“I know you know how to set up a proper kill room,” he states, and he should–he’s seen my imitation of his plastic-drenched kill room, firsthand. I’ve studied his work more than anyone. Emulated it to perfection, and all for a happily-ever-after he refused to take part of, spat cold in my face.

For a moment, I feel almost human in how I can’t seem to react or respond to this request. Though as I watch the mirrored hope in you both, as the idea of this slowly settles, I find that it doesn’t completely bore me…

My eyes drift to you. Singling you out. Stringing round your anxious expression. And you’ve mettle, at least, to not look away from the barbs of my musing intensity.

So. This is why you’ve been acting so sheepishly inept. You need big bad Brian’s help with something.

It’s laughably cute, the idea of you killing, and already I know I’m going to do it. But I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t make you sit in it a little. Take my time in toying with you, first.

“You want me to babysit your blackmailing little friend here,” I say to Dex, with raven-dark eyes still on you, “while she attempts–and correct me if I’m wrong here–her first kill?”

I can tell you can feel how my gaze is dissecting you. Pulling apart, piecing together, assessing every piece and shape and shade of you. It makes you squirm, and I love it; sparing a moment to slide my tongue over the sharpness of my teeth as I feast on such a beautiful reaction.

I turn back to Dex. “What makes you think she’s even capable?”

“I’m capable,” you insist, drawing my gaze again. And even through those nerves roused in my presence, you appear quite convinced of it.

Interesting.

“I can do this,” you again allege. With such frail confidence, but confidence nonetheless. “I just… need a little help.”

I tamp down the rearing head of my inquisitiveness. Ensure my interest remains vague in how I lackadaisically eye you.

“Help with what, exactly?” I slowly ask. And it’s not a no, which I’m amused to see is so surprising.

You blink a few times, eyes growing wider, more determined–before you’re explaining, quickly, as though whatever luck this is may run out.

“Getting him to the kill site,” you say succinctly, with all the puffed-up bravado of a fluffy little rabbit pretending that they’ve slayed a fox before, and it really is amusing. “Moving the body. Clean-up.”

I let my watchful silence drag on. Held in supposed indecisive contemplation. Should I? Should I? Until, when I can nearly hear your fretting heartbeat, I feel one corner of my lips slowly quirk up. Watching every minor movement of you like a fox might a meal, might a rabbit, and find I really wouldn’t mind taking a bite.

“Don’t need help doing the deed, then?” I subtly ask you.

Your eyebrows flicker to a knot. Lips pressing flat, before you shake your head at me. “No.”

“You sure?” I further goad, with silken smoothness. Loving those little cracks of hesitation along your lovely surface so much I’m inclined to hammer in even more of them. “‘Cause I won’t kill him for you. You have to do that, yourself. And what’s more, if you for any reason chicken out on me and can’t follow through with all this…” I calmly smile. “I’ll simply leave you there all alone with whatever maddened mess of whoever this man you’ve left behind.” The idea of it sparks a delicious flame somewhere deep below my cavernous lack of heart. “After ensuring he’s woken up, first, of course. Aware. Pissed off. Untied.”

I smile my cheshire smile as that resolve in you flickers in place; the smallest glow, so nearly snuffed out already.

“So?” I spur in your uncertain silence. “Do we have a deal, little killer?”

And still, you hesitate. Seeming to weigh my words with care, along with the cost of your own, which I certainly appreciate. You’re not as stupid as I’d originally believed, in any case.

At long last, you nod, but I don’t move, don’t even blink from how I wolfishly watch you from my throne of Dexter’s couch. Not until you say the words out loud. And you will, if you want my help. You have to.

If that’s a flash of resentment within those pretty eyes of yours, it only causes my broadening smirk.

“Fine,” you say at last, after thickly swallowing. “We have a deal.”

And surely light must dance in my entertained eyes as I bite back just how pleased I am by this answer.

This should be fun.

✧˖° chapter 2

#brian moser x reader #brian moser x you #brian moser #dexter #reader insert #wild animals #slasher x reader #fanfiction #rudy cooper #ice truck killer

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noriimura · 2 months ago

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namgyu headcannons’’

warnings: dark! namgyu, drugs, thinness, eating problems, addictions, family issues

an: my thoughts on how I see namgyu outside the game, it's okay if our ideas about him may differ. english is not my first language. this is my first post of this kind, so I hope you enjoy it

part 2 is coming soon…

i think he grew up without a father, with a cold, distant mother who didn't need him. he always tried to get her love and attention by doing housework, drawing her pictures with the caption "mommy, I love you" or "mommy, you're the best," then finding the drawings in the trash. he tried to study well at school, achieve heights in the classroom and be better than his classmates, thus receiving the excellent student syndrome. however, as he grew older, he realized that it was useless, his mother would not love him, the imaginary interest that was present only out of a desire to please his mother disappeared altogether. he gave up on his studies, and in high school he periodically skipped school with friends, drinking alcohol and smoking cigarettes one after another. after finishing school somehow and passing the exams with a low score, he gave up on education and decided not to go further to study, he went to work in a nightclub on the advice of his friend who worked there

due to the fact that his mother was often absent from his life, he developed an anxious type of attachment. he is not sure of himself, he is afraid that he will be abandoned, that he can be intrusive, constantly demands confirmation of love, but without saying so directly, he considers it humiliating and shameful even in front of his partner.

speaking of his anxiety, his partner will have a hard time, he is the most anxious partner who will be jealous of every pillar, will constantly write and ask who his partner is with, will constantly suspect infidelity, check the phone for suspicious correspondence and make scandals from scratch.

there is also a theory that namgyu has an avoidant type of attachment, it is difficult for him to get close to people, show his emotions and trust, which is why he does not enter into a relationship in principle, trying to avoid any obligations, responsibilities and the opportunity to get attached, when he wanted to have fun, he met another girl in a club with whom he was rude, animal, dirty sex without any feelings. in the morning, deleting the phone number without giving a chance for something more.

it seems to me that he grew up in a family full of violence and debauchery, even as a child when his mother and father communicated but were not married, his father often came, they drank, smoked and then quarreled, he beat her, they hated each other, he saw it, he grew up in it, he absorbed such an attitude between parents this became one of the reasons for his cruelty and problematic nature, later his mother went into fornication, she began to bring new men to their house, they had fun, had sex, and drank, little namgyu saw all this, he hated her for it, this also became one of the reasons for his consumer attitude towards women.

he does not like to contact people, even though he works in a profession in which communication skills are extremely necessary. he never starts long dialogues with visitors unless they arouse special interest or are beneficial to him. if he is not interested, he shows it with his whole appearance, gaze and actions, he never tries to look interested, which is why he is not very respected at work. if he finds the dialogue not interesting, he will not say a word from himself in an attempt to maintain the dialogue, except for a couple of clear phrases that his work requires of him.

for namgyu, drugs are primarily a way to forget about all his sins, problems, and debts. It is in his hallucinations that he lives happily. before using drugs, he was trying to find himself, something that would save him. he stayed up late at computer clubs, draining money for an extra hour in the game, his hometown club and attempts to forget himself in new acquaintances, alcohol and cigarettes, which to this day help him relax. It was his first time trying drugs with his friends. hallucinogenic trips in which he could stay until morning, complete relaxation and loss of touch with reality, this was what he had been looking for for so long, only this state allowed him to smile and feel in his place.

although namgyu found an outlet in drugs, however, his gambling addiction remained, most likely he would have played some kind of strategic team games in the MOBA genre like dota 2, I'm sure he screams all over the apartment when he is killed or someone else's team demolished their throne.

namgyu prefers sportswear, usually a size or two larger, it seems to me that he would not wear fitted clothes in principle, making a choice towards slightly baggy T-shirts and wide trousers.

I think namgyu would have eating problems, he often has no appetite, which is why he refuses to eat or intentionally does not eat, plus due to drug use and lack of physical activity, the guy has a rather thin build.

he's a misogynist, which is already canon. i think as he gets older, he just gets disillusioned with women. perhaps he liked the girl who rudely and shamefully rejected him and he remembered it forever. Indifferent, strong, wayward and cold women remind him of his mother, which is why he literally wants to kill them so that the metaphorical death of his mother would happen. yes, he won't kill every woman he meets, but passive aggression towards them is clearly present.

edited: part 2

#player 124 x reader #nam gyu squid game #nam gyu x reader #i love namgyu #namgyu x reader #nam gyu #player 124 #124 #roh jae won #roh #headcanon #headcannons #squid game #bad english #love you guys

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arcadia345 · 2 years ago

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Astro observations🤍🦢

Not a real astrologer just my observations:)TW🔞

I noticed in 10th house Synastry house person could feel like planet person is shallow if you know them irl or it could be difficult to build a deeper connection w them but if it’s a celeb/far distance person you feel like you know them better than most people 💀 esp if it’s in a water sign notice me jungkook 💜

I’ve noticed people with outer planets in the 1st have shocking resemblance to their ancestors

Capricorn placements don’t get enough recognition for how many hidden gifts/ talented they are. I feel like people forget that they’re half goat/fish so their creativity can go overlooked(wow what a surprise). Wherever Capricorn/ Saturn is in you chart is where your hidden talents are, where you tend to feel shunned from/your biggest obstacles in life, where people try to belittle you because they see your potential. But once you realize your potential and work on it consistently you can become oh so powerful.

6th:their work ethic, natural healers, could be accused of being lazy, having haters at work, animals love them but they could’ve have bad experiences with them in the past, having good health/nice body if you’re persistent

3rd: being discouraged by your peers/teachers/family because of your communication skills, could do really well in later school years and also could be popular, feeling like your pov is never taken into thought, they could have been the child that was the most problematic but also the one that holds the family together like glue

12th: they sometimes could feel like a shadow also could see shadows💀 strong intuition without knowing it, people could spread lies behind ur back, another healer placement, you know other peoples fantasies & secrets bc of insights you get via dreams, your “gifts” could come later in life, having lots of hidden talents/info that you learn about yourself as you get older, definition of old souls

Also I’ve noticed Capricorn placements (esp fems) have strong intuition especially in tough situations they’re definitely the ones you go to for advice

My Capricorn stellium coworker said she basically worked all way till her due date with all her kids😳 but her last one almost came WHILE on the clock😭😭 like you need to rest mamas

Prominent Aries with a sprinkle of Neptune energy LOVE BLUSH and if you don’t please try it out you’d look so good😩and don’t be scared to experiment when it comes to makeup RAMS are meant to be BOLD example

Having a crush on someone you have 11th house synastry especially mars or sun is so hard😭😭😭 it’s so hard to get them to see you as other than a friend 😕 not impossible tho😈

Libra moon masc tend to have heavy karma when it comes to women esp family members, could go either way but most of the time they’re the ones getting hurt by the fem

Have y’all noticed some older Scorpio suns still dress like they’re in 2013? Which isn’t surprising since that was around the time millennials (Scorpio Pluto gen) were thriving

Saturn in 4th, I’ve noticed that they’ve had to deal with restrictions at a young age either it be emotional or material especially when it comes to food I now people with this placement that were fatshamed by their family members

Sun in 12/6 could have absent fathers in different ways

6th:he could be incarcerated, a workaholic, could’ve been ill, could be in the army

12th: also could be incarcerated, you probably don’t know who your father is or never met him, he could have passed, could be obsessed with finding him/absolutely no interest at all, could have a dr*ug addiction

Sorry not sorry but Saturn in the 5th natals are so boring😴true definition of squares have some fun once and awhile they’re all work no play

A pair I love to see is Virgo with Aquarius/Capricorn it’s either VERY toxic or they have cutest relationship ever😭

Venus In 10th synastry, they could see each other as the best looking partner that they’ve ever had

I noticed I tend to have 3rd/4th house synastry with my pets, but the ones I have to give away have planets in my outer house

That’s all for now don’t forget to like and follow🩶

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apute11as · 1 year ago

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Terrible twos - Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen (+child)

Summary: Mapi and Ingrid are navigating the terrible twos.

Warnings⚠️: none I don’t think?

Author note: I’m not sure if two year olds can speak this well? Let’s say she’s almost 3😂?

Based on this request :))

~~~~~

“MAMMAAAA! MAMI!” your sudden cries ring though the apartment.

The noise startled Mapi awake, her shifting on the bed waking Ingrid up from next to her. Ingrid began to sit up to go and check on you but was quickly stopped by her girlfriend beside her.

“I got her amor, you need rest” Mapi said, gesturing to the Norwegians growing bump.

“Ok thank you please come get me if she’s still fussy” insisted Ingrid

“Will do” Mapi replied, kissing her temple and making her way to your room next door.

When she got there she found you sat on the edge of your bed with your knees tucked into you chest, nightlight on, tears tracks staining your cheeks.

“Oh bebita what’s wrong Mami is here” Mapi comforted, cradling you into her chest.

“Scared” you replied meekly

“Of what Bebé?”

“I don’t like the big girl bed!” you snapped “I want my cot back!” you spat

“Oh querida but you’re a big girl now, you have a training bed. Plus we are going to need the cot for when your baby sister arrives” she offered hoping to calm you down

“No! That’s my bed baby sister can get her own!” you urged, thrashing your fists onto the mattress beside you.

“Hey hey calm down, I thought you were a big girl?” Mapi questioned knowing that this phrase usually worked with you

“I am a big girl!” You insisted

“Big girls don’t need baby beds do they?” Mapi asked you

“No guess not but I’m still sad” you pouted

“Why are you said bebita?”

“You and Mamma will love the new baby and forget about me!” you sobbed

“No no mi amor we could never forget about you! We will love the new baby and you just the same!” Mapi urged you

“¿Promesa?” you held out your pinky finger as it was yours and Mami’s so called ‘super secret swear’

“Promesa” Mapi replied, interlocking your pinkies and shaking them.

——

That was the first of many tantrums that came with the ‘terrible twos’, which were not helped by the problematic jealously of your unborn sibling.

When your Mamma and Mami found out it was another baby girl, the possessiveness only increased. That much was evident when you and Mamma went to watch Mami and the team training one day.

“Do you have your bag princesa? asked Mami as she grabbed her keys off the side ready to drive the two of you to the training facility.

“Oops no” you announced before toddling back to your room to grab it

When you returned Mamma shoved some snacks into the pockets and grabbed your hand, before turning to the lock the apartment door. The car journey was surprisingly pleasant (you often had a habit of asking if you were nearly there hundreds of times). Mamma strapped you into your car seat and put on some of your favourite Spanish songs which you happily attempted to sing to (getting most of the words wrong).

When you got there Mamma helped you out of the car seat and insisted you hold her hand whilst she walked because you also had an annoying habit of running off when no one was looking.

Mamma greeted the security guards at the entrance as they had a long conversation that you thought was boring. They kept asking Mamma about the baby and you just wanted to hurry up and go play with the team.

Finally they stopped talking and Mamma guided you through the building and into the changing rooms that led onto the pitch.

“Now elskling you need to be good ok. I don’t want you distracting the girls whilst they’re training. I can’t run off after you now ok because of the baby so stay on your toy mat or playing with the ball on the side ok?”

Said Ingrid sternly

“Ok Mamma I’ll be good” you beamed up at her with a toothy grin

“Of course you will mi solskinn” she said returning the smile.

The two of you walked out hand in hand as you spotted the girls training on the pitch at the end of the field. You watched as Mamma took your bag and got out a small blanket to put on the floor. She then took out the colouring book and plastic fairies that you’d put in there and laid them out for you to play with.

You’d been playing peacefully for around 10 minutes, completely in your own world before Mamma’s voice snapped you out of it.

“I’m just going to the toilet bebita okay? Your baby sister has decided to sit on my bladder” she laughed. “So stay here and play nicely ok I’ll be 5 minutes” she said with a serious expression

“Okay Mamma” you said without a second thought.

All you were thinking about was what a bladder actually was. You hadn’t heard that word before and you’d wondered why, whatever it was, your baby sister was sat in it. It took about 30 seconds of you repeating the word for you to realise Mamma had actually gone. You contemplated starting to cry, hoping that would bring her back but after thinking it over in your head you’d decided that was too boring.

Instead, you decided to wander. You got up and made your way to the side door that you knew led out of the training area. You stumbled a little on the uneven gravel as your little legs struggled to keep up with the pace you were trying to run at.

You ended up at a building with a big sign you couldn’t read. All you knew was that it had a red and white cross on it and it reminded you of Switzerland (but the other way around) like where Ana was from. You missed Ana she had moved teams now. Maybe that’s where they were secretly hiding Ana you thought t yourself as you decided to investigate further, pushing the big door open.

When you made it through the door, it did not look like Ana’s Switzerland at all. It looked scary, there were a bunch of weird machines you didn’t understand and you didn’t recognise this place at all. You decided to wander on, in hopes that you’d find something or someone you knew.

Your wish was granted when you came face to face with your Tia Alexia.

“Ay dios mio pequeña what on earth are you doing here?” She questioned frantically, with a concerned look in her eyes.

“Went on a walk” you shrugged

“Where’s your Mamma? Mapi said she was bringing you today”

“She went to the toilet because the baby is in her bladder”

Alexia couldn’t help but laugh at your likely misinterpretation of what Ingrid had presumably told you.

“Ok bebita and did she tell you to go off on a walk on your own whilst she went to the toilet?”

“No” you said staring at your little shoes as to not meet her disappointed look. “Thought it was Switzerland” you sulked

“Switzerland why did you thing that?” She asked, confused.

“Had flag on the door” you replied simply

“What? Ohh no bebé that’s a medical flag like a hospital, it does look like the Switzerland flag though” she chuckled

“This is a hospital?” you said with a look of worry

“No no it’s similar though it’s like a doctor just for the team”

“Mamma goes to a doctor to check the baby! Why are you in the doctor for the team Tia Ale? Do you have baby in your belly too like Mamma?” You questioned eyes wide with surprise.

“No no bebita hahaha I don’t have a baby in my belly. I’m just having a little monthly check on my knee to make sure it’s all good” she smiled at your innocence.

“Oh if you have a baby Tia Ale you can name it after me? You said Olga loved me when I stayed at your house!” You insisted

“Hmm Olga did love you but if we have a baby I think it needs a different name but maybe you can help me pick if that time comes” she bargained

“Okay” you shrugged, that seemed to be enough for your little brain.

“Right enough talking about me having babies” she laughed “let’s get you back to your Mamma I’m sure she’s worried sick” said Alexia, scooping you up into her arms so you couldn’t run off again.

Meanwhile…

Ingrid had just returned from what might have been her 15th bathroom trip of the day because of the baby. She strolled though the changing rooms and was ready to reward your patient behaviour with a snack from your backpack. However, when she reached the field you weren’t sat on your blanket, she glanced around and you weren’t nearby.

Panic started to settle in her as she couldn’t see you anywhere. Watching as the girls started to walk back from training in her direction, she scanned her eyes over them, hoping to find that you’d just wandered off to see Mapi but her prayers weren’t answered as she couldn’t see your small form amongst them. The anxiety had really started to settle in now as she had no idea where you’d gone.

Seconds later the girls were in front of her, Mapi reached for her waist and planted a firm kiss on her lips.

“Hola mi amor and mi bebita” she said rubbing Ingrid’s swollen stomach. “Where’s pequeña?” Questioned the defender, confusion present on her features.

“I’m sorry Mapi I don’t know” Ingrid said as she broke down into tears. “I went to the toilet for a couple minutes because the baby made me need to pee and I didn’t take her with me because she was playing so nicely and now she’s wandered off and I don’t know where too” she explained, tears rolling down her face as she sobbed into Mapi’s shoulder.

“It’s ok she’ll be fine amor, there’s no way for her to leave the compound with out security realising” assured the blonde. “She will be around somewhere and someone will have found her” she insisted

“Yeah yeah you’re right I’m sorry Maps I just feel like such a bad mother I’ve lost our daughter, how am I supposed to look after two of them together” she cried more

The team were gathered around them, with pitiful looks on their faces, no one wanted to interject.

“No Ingrid you are not a bad mother don’t ever say that, you’re just hormonal at the moment ok and she’s going through the terrible twos so she’s being an absolute nightmare at the moment. It’s normal Cariño ok?” She said as she comforted the younger girl by rubbing soothing circles on her back whilst she held her close.

“Ok, te amo Maria”

“Jeg elsker deg princesa. Let’s go find our little monkey” she gestured for the team and jonatan to come with her.

Just as the team were about to split up and attempt to find you, Alexia turned the corner holding a guilty looking you in her arms.

“Oh my God!” yelled Ingrid as she ran in your direction, as fast as she could with the added weight of the baby on her hips.

“gracias a Dios” muttered Maria as she followed after her girlfriend.

“Oh my bebita I’m so glad you’re ok and that Alexia found you!” Exclaimed Ingrid as she cupped your face with her hands.

“Yeah she found me in the medical room which she thought was Switzerland but that’s another story” laughed the blonde midfielder

“Thank you Alexia” said Mapi with a smile.

“jentebaby I told you not to leave your mat and you ran off you could’ve gotten hurt!” scolded Ingrid, which caused you to nuzzle into Tia Alexia’s neck for comfort.

“Amor don’t be so hard on her she’s ok now” insisted Mapi

“No Maria she has to learn that’s not ok!” She said taking you from Alexia’s arms into her own. “Oh bebé I was so worried.”

“Lo siento Mamma I wanted to explore”

“Well don’t explore without me next time please” she insisted

“Ingrid please put her down, you shouldn’t be carrying her with the baby!” Claimed Mapi

“Shush Maria I can carry both of my babies at the same time” she countered, hugging you close to her.

“Fine miss stubborn, God you two are so alike” chuckled Mapi, hugging you both into her.

#woso x reader #woso #woso imagine #fcb femeni #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni #barca femeni x reader #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen #mapi leon x reader #Ingrid and Mapi

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dearestzaychik · 1 month ago

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After gathering my thoughts and doing my research on the situation, I will continue to write for Forsaken. It's genuinely so disappointing to see people that do these kinds of things just because they aren't affected by the actions they have done. I wish nothing but the Best for not only Soul (The owner) and their girlfriend, Juno, but for the entire team of Forsaken as well.

Based on the research I was viewing, some bad apples created false accusations and claims about the owner. But the information inside the said documents are either Exaggerations of certain situations, Things that were taken out of context, and some parts that were problematic that are confirmed but are placed in an entirely different situation where they paint the owner as a fully bad person. For some of the parts that actually happened that were in the docs were placed in a different situation, as at the time everything was happening Soul was practically around 11-13 years old during that time, basically a MINOR that was influenced with a toxic community. It's also confirmed that Soul themselves already have apologized for their actions long ago, and it doesn't define the person they are today.

The bad apples didn't seem stop there either, also sending doxxing threats and harrassments to the forsaken team to the point that practically everyday they had to suffer and fear for their lives. yet despite all of this the Forsaken Team is still willing to work on the game itself, which I have the most deepest respect for. There's even some hypocrisy regarding the people who accused the owner of such things even though they themselves were seen participating is disgusting and disrespectful actions.

They practically driven the owner to such a close point of a breakdown and drove some staff into leaving or stepping down for their own safety and to be away from the drama, as well as sending the said documents of the false accusations to every collab the Forsaken Team got to do hence the removal of said collab skins as well. They even got the owner swatted 2 times, and the SWAT team looked through their computer and devices and such to find absolutely nothing about what the accusations are saying. It's genuinely a shame how people are choosing to doxx people like it's some sort of Normal on the internet, Doxxing the Owner while at it. It doesn't seem to be only Soul and Juno that got doxxed but even some of the staff themselves. That's personal and private information right there that should not be shared at all, yet these people do it like its some sort of child's play as if they aren't endangering people's lives.

Moving forward, I'm still gonna be writing for Forsaken. But it will definitely and considerably slow as there have been many changes that happened in such a short time. People will come and go, even though I'm still distraught about some very looked-up members of the team stepping down.. I most definitely respect their decision, and so should you! This is not the end for Forsaken from the confirmation of the announcements channel in the discord server, and I'm sure with due time they'll have more content for us once their finally ready and back from their break. Although im not forcing it, please continue to show support and love to the developers of Forsaken and respect any decision they make in the future!

Once again, I'll still be writing for Forsaken! P.S. I'm still not writing currently though.. This is just a little explanation for those that don't have the time to research or are confused by the current situation

(thank you for looking through my little ramble of my own personal opinion about the situation, if there are any mistakes with what I said please do point it out.)

#★ 𝓬𝓾𝓹𝓬𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓼 #forsaken #forsaken roblox x reader #forsaken x reader #roblox forsaken x reader

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chaoticfandomgirly · 8 months ago

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The Stupidity of hating on fanon, featuring Jegulus.

Alright folks,

Welcome to another one of my rants because I found out that there are jegulus haters on tumblr. I have not encountered one but I saw it on my mutuals' page and I had some words (a lot of words) to say.

So let's get started...

One of the main complaints is saying that 'James would never fall for Regulus.' Umm...child, do you know what fanfic is? What fanon is? If not let me spell it out for you- it's made up. Something that is not canon and created by fans by employing their imaginations. We are not saying that James would fall for Regulus in canon at all, so please don't come barging in with your opinions. So yes, we don't really care about canon anyways.

Secondly, the argument of 'Regulus being a terrible person and pureblood supremacist' is really weak. Alright, he was a pureblood supremacist and was involved in terrible things. But do you know what else he was? He was just a 17 year old boy who grew up in an abusive household. A boy who had lost his big brother and had to learn survival at an age too young. He grew up before his time and was so traumatized that he always wanted to please his parents and do as they wish. Regulus was just another victim and he also was the one who ended up being the catalyst to Voldemort's defeat. As someone who studies psychology, viewing a person on the surface is the biggest sign of ignorance and it really shows. As for 'being terrible' then let's not forget that canon James wasn't all sunshine and rainbows either. He improved ofc, but he was still an asshole when he was young. Also, we really don't have enough background on canon Regulus to place him in one box. I love that some people want to believe him as good and fill in the blanks by writing something redeeming.

Then comes the 'it's a misogynistic ship'. Now, I won't argue it fully because I do think there are some people out there who don't like Jily bc they hate Lily. But, from what I've seen majority shippers ship both of them interchangeably or in a polyarmorous sense too. In fact, most jegulus shippers are also Marylily and pandalily shippers too. I really can't see anything misogynistic in it. I've actually read some great fics where Lily is a strong independent woman who is fierce and an overall queen.

And, if the 'canon' of it bothers you too much, then you should check out early Jegulus fics like Choices where nothing is sugar-coated. James still ends up with Lily. But in the end, it leaves you thinking and rooting for them anyways. The more new Jegulus fics are on a fluffier side but that fluff came in after bearing the pain of the full of angst fics like Choices.

Another thing should be noted is that these characters are also a big part of queer community. I've seen so many fans exploring themselves through these characters. Like Regulus as Trans is becoming a popular headcanon and it shows that through creative expression people are finding a safe place to explore. And if you're a bigot then...that is frankly a you problem. One I, or jegulus fans, don't want any part of.

In the end, my motive is not to convince you of shipping these two. It clearly started as a crackship, one even I stumbled upon accidentally. But the fandom has made it into something really beautiful and I think instead of spreading hate we should accept it. There are more problematic pairings to be concerned about, trust me. This one is the least of them all.

Thank you for listening to my rant. And if you have anything negative to say, kindly don't because it would just be proof of your own stupidness. There is no point you can argue about with anything substantial. Because in the end it's fanon. Let fans do what they want and if you don't like it then ignore. No one is forcing it on you.

@corwnvus I hope this covers it all. Also, I love your art. Did I mention that, already?

#pearl rants #jegulus #james x regulus #the marauders fandom #regulus black #james potter #all the jegulus haters #please grow some sense #fanfiction #fanon

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mangowillow · 1 year ago

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last to know | ch. 2: as always, even now

pairing: jungkook x (f) reader / kim woosung x (f) reader

summary: you and jeongguk got together at 16 years old, married at 20, and divorced at 21. what was once love ever after turned into nothing but pain and unfulfilled dreams. you keep going despite the pain in your heart that never really went away, until one day, jungkook comes back— to seoul and in your life.

general story tags: divorce au, childhood friends, angst, hurt & eventual comfort, kind of a slow burn, OC is an adopted child in this fic, a lot of flashbacks later on because context is important; and the others that a lot of people seem to dislike: a love triangle and a LOT of miscommunication. look away if this isn't your thing. tags and warnings will be updated as we go along with each chapter!

warnings: mentions of weight loss and a hospital, jeongguk has a panic attack (semi-detailed), problematic parent-child dynamics. let me know if i miss anything and please be kind!

word count: 5.3k

author's note: *peeks into the void* why hello there! let's pretend i didn't disappear off the face of the earth. earlier this year i went to see The Rose live for their dawn to dusk tour and it was so much fun! there's just a lot of things that have happened and continue to do so; please accept my sincerest apologies for being inconsistent! BUT. know that i haven't forgotten about this story. heh.

also a few more things: ♡ to put things into perspective: jeongguk, OC/reader, and woosung are all the same age; that also means they're as old as seokjin and yoongi in this fic. all the other members maintain their age. honorifics may or may not appear at times. if that bothers you, well, can't please everybody! ♡ this fic isn't beta'd nor proofread by anyone. we go rogue, always.

tags for interested readers will be open for as long as this fic is ongoing! let me know in the comments or message me, whatever fits your preference!

fic masterlist

Woosung plants a big, sloppy kiss on your cheek and giggles.

Looking at him, you ask, “What was that for?”

“Do I need a reason?” Woosung teases as he chews on his jjajangmyeon. You chuckle at his candidness and reach out to wipe the sauce that landed on the corner of his lip. The both of you resorted to sitting on the floor, surrounded by boxes, using one of them as a makeshift table to place the food.

“I’m really happy you got to come today,” you muse, enjoying Woosung’s calming presence as he delicately places a piece of chicken karaage on your noodle bowl before setting his own down. You haven’t seen him for a few days because he needed to get some new music done in preparation for his application to a recording agency as a performer and a producer. You were more than happy to support him in any way you could, including giving him his space to figure things out. It was also who Woosung was— a quiet soul who liked working in solitude.

You and Woosung are so much alike.

“Why? Did you think I’d forget?” Woosung teases, a smirk playing on his lips.

“No, I just thought… maybe you needed more time to prepare for your application. That’s important.”

Woosung gently shakes his head, ready to disagree— “Nothing will ever be as important to me as you.”

A slight pink dusted your cheeks. You didn’t expect him to be this cheesy so early in the morning so you smile and cast your eyes back down to your meal.

“... I do have news for you, babe.” Woosung starts. He turns his body to face you. Giving your hundred percent attention, you cut the noodles with your teeth and place the bowl down. Wiping your mouth with a napkin, you hum at his statement, “What is it?”

Woosung smiles and looks at you lovingly. You feel a bit self-conscious every time he stares at you so intensely and like clockwork, you feel your cheeks heat up.

“I got the job, sweetheart.”

Hearing the news leave his lips leaves you surprised— your hands fly to your mouth and your eyes start to water. “R-really?” Woosung nods and chuckles through his own teary eyes, you throw yourself at him to give him a tight hug. “Woosung, oh my god— this is— “ you hold him by the shoulders, explore every inch of his face, elation in both of your hearts— “this is great, oh gosh I am so happy for you,” you hug him again.

You feel Woosung’s body relax instantly in your hold; it has been a journey, walking with Woosung through his own painful moments struggling with his art and passion. Two years ago, he came to Seoul desperately needing a break from life and music after many unsuccessful attempts to make it into the music industry back home in the United States. Although he and his bandmates have put out several songs in the past, they never really gained as much traction with an audience as they had hoped. Going back home to his roots in South Korea also meant leaving his bandmates behind— they have been nothing but supportive of him and his time as they also needed to re-assess their own lives and figure out what they truly wanted.

Two years ago, Woosung also met you. Both your lives changed ever since.

“Thank you for all your support, ____… you know I wouldn’t have been able to get through all this if it weren’t for you.” Woosung whispers, tightening his hold on your waist. You feel this, you feel everything when it comes to him— so you wrap your arms tighter around him, too. “This is all you, babe. This is all your hard work.”

You both stay that way for a while. Unspoken words are left hanging, as well. You both know well what might become of all this as you always try to communicate. You believe it is what has sustained your relationship for so long.

Both of you know that Woosung will always belong to music— it’s his dream and the reason why he took so many risks along the way. It was only a matter of when. The possibilities have always been there— should there be a moment where Woosung would return to his career, to his band, to becoming a global star. The fears that come along with those possibilities were also ever-present: what you and Woosung’s future would look like.

All of these thoughts come rushing to the both of you, but neither of you said anything.

For now, the both of you are happy. And that is enough.

When you parted from each other, you pushed away some of the hair that fell over Woosung’s eyes. “When do you start?”

Woosung takes a deep breath, “As soon as the higher-ups get settled in. I’ve been told they’ve recently landed in Seoul so it shouldn’t be too long now. I’ll be meeting with the owners and one of them is the lead producer. I heard he was a genius, but also a bit scary. They’ve also given me a signing bonus and a potential collaboration with him… that was new… he said they liked my work so much…”

“Wow, that… that sounds so exciting, baby. How are you feeling about all of this?”

“I’m nervous, for the most part,” Woosung murmurs, readjusting the collar of his shirt. It’s been a while since I talked to someone else about music professionally and… this company— I’ve heard so many wonderful things about it. For one, it was built by musicians, too. So I’m hoping they’re not just doing all of it for the business.”

You smile warmly at Woosung and hold his hands. “You’re going to do great, you know that, right?”

Woosung draws in a breath and nods before meeting your eyes.

That night, Woosung couldn’t sleep. He watches over you as you dream and when a strand of your hair falls on your face after moving a bit, he tucks it behind your ear. His fingers lightly dance while grazing the side of your face. Woosung sighs as a feeling of anxiety starts to creep into his heart. He loves change, but he cannot help but feel somewhat scared about it anyway. He gets so lost in his thoughts about you that he doesn’t notice you wake up.

“Baby, hey… you’re still awake.”

Your voice brings Woosung back to the present. Seeing your sleepy eyes under the sliver of moonlight that passes through your window makes his heart do a mini somersault— it always does.

“Hmm… I couldn’t sleep,” Woosung says. You scoot closer to him, his arm going under your shoulders to support your body in an embrace.

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” you whisper, eyes closed, inhaling his scent— him.

“Just… things. I’m not sure how to articulate them yet…”

You hum, “Then I’ll just stay like this with you to keep you warm… warmth helps you sleep, right?”

Woosung nods, bringing your body closer to his. “Hm… especially your warmth.” Seconds later, he feels you breathe deeper, letting him know that you’re about to let yourself succumb to sleep once more. “I love you.”

When no response came from you, Woosung closed his eyes. Then suddenly, in the stillness of the night, he feels your hand squeeze his ever so lightly.

“I love you, too.”

“Hyung, I think that’s the salt—” Jimin starts.

Seokjin snorts, stopping with the shaker in his hand mid-air, “What do you mean, Jimin-ah, I think I know the difference between salt and sugar.” He was about to potentially put salt on the croffle in front of him, leaving Jimin feeling both very nervous and distressed.

“Last time, I remember you put the sugar in a different container because a customer accidentally broke the original shaker. The color of the cap was blue, not red. This—” he pointed at the shaker Seokjin was holding, “— is obviously not blue.”

“Yah, that happened last week, but I already switched them out two days ago—” Seokjin tries to argue.

They didn’t notice Woosung enter the cafe until he spoke, “Why don’t you just taste it?”

“Oh hey, Woosung-hyung,” Jimin greets.

“Hey, Jimin. Good to see you,” Woosung replies as Jimin nods, his eyes turning into crescents as soon as he smiles.

Seokjin scoffs once more before greeting Woosung, but he relents and tastes whatever is inside the shaker. When he makes a funny face, Jimin and Woosung chuckle.

“Told ya, hyung. Tell us I saved your life.”

“I can’t believe this is salt, I knew I already switched it out—”

With possible disaster averted, Jimin doesn’t listen to Seokjin’s monologue anymore, “You’re here early today, hyung. Would you like to order the usual?”

“Actually, I am here to buy a mango parfait… ____’s fridge is crazy cold and the frozen mangoes are, well, too frozen. I might actually break the blender. I also forgot to make her usual overnight oats. We had to move a lot of things very quickly yesterday so she could have a bed to sleep on.”

“I got you, hyung. We just finished making a fresh batch of parfaits. Do you want one, too?” Jimin asks.

“Are there other flavors?”

“Blueberry and strawberry,” Seokjin adds.

“I’ll take one blueberry, then. Thanks.” Woosung gets ready to pay, but Seokjin waves him away. “It’s on the house.”

“You always give us free stuff, Seokjin—” Woosung tries to argue, but Seokjin shakes his head immediately.

“Taking care of my sister is more than enough, Woosung-ah.”

Woosung gives Seokjin a tight smile and nods. Seokjin then asks, albeit softer, “How is she doing lately?”

“She’s doing better,” Woosung reassures. “She has been painting more recently; not just because of her job at the university, but also at home. We’re going to set up her studio today so it should be fun.”

“That’s good to hear, right hyung?” Jimin turns to Seokjin, who nods. Jimin hands Woosung a paper bag with the parfaits. “I put some new desserts we’re experimenting with. Please give them a try.”

Woosung peeks at the paper bag and sees croissants and greenish muffins, presumably matcha-flavored. “Oh wow, thank you Jimin… I won’t take up too much of your time, guys. ____ is still sleeping and I need to clean up the mango disaster I left on her kitchen counter before she wakes up.”

Seokjin chuckles, “You really came all the way here for parfaits when you could have bought these anywhere near ____’s apartment.”

“Ah, but nothing beats your parfaits, Seokjin. A wise man once told me that,” Woosung smiles. He and Seokjin instantly formed a bond the moment they met two years ago, much to your relief. You’ve always been nervous to tell your brother anything remotely new about your love life— and you understand where he is coming from.

“Well whoever that wise man is must be pretty smart,” Seokjin replies. His eyes soften right afterward. “Go. Let’s have a drink sometime, yeah?”

“Sure thing,” Woosung waves goodbye to Seokjin and Jimin.

Jeongguk walks the hallway of the recording studio, still groggy from sleep. Hands in his pockets, he stood outside Yoongi’s door, staring at his peculiar mat: a cat with its middle finger raised, the words ‘fuck off’ glaring at him. Figures, he thought. A doormat won’t stop him from ringing Yoongi’s doorbell, though.

“Who is it?” he hears Yoongi call out.

“It’s your favorite person in the whole wide world,” Jeongguk says, sarcasm lacing his voice. He pinched the bridge of his nose; a habit he developed in college whenever he felt the exhaustion seep out of him. He hears scuffling from the other side of the door until the sound of the door’s automatic lock rings. Jeongguk sees Yoongi clad in a plaid shirt, ripped jeans, and a gray beanie— his signature style.

“Dumbass,” Yoongi mutters under his breath before turning his back to return to his equipment. “Good morning to you too,” Jeongguk teases as he closes the door behind him.

“How are you already set up? It’s barely a day since we arrived!”

Yoongi chooses not to respond.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Jeongguk asks in disbelief. “Please tell me you at least went home to get your shit sorted? Or maybe sleep like normal human beings do?”

“I did… for a brief moment, maybe?” Yoongi starts.

Jeongguk shakes his head, “You have to stop spreading yourself thin, Yoongi. It’ll be the death of you.”

Yoongi fiddles with a few knobs on the synthesizer before muttering, “That doesn’t seem so bad— spreading myself too thin, that is.”

Jeongguk throws his hands up in surrender and rolls his eyes.

“Have I succeeded in frustrating you to hell and back, yet?” Yoongi smirks while continuing to flit his eyes through the numerous screens in front of him.

Jeongguk was about to say something but then the door alarm clicked. Kim Namjoon’s head peeks out from behind the door.

“I came to say my welcome remarks,” Namjoon says as he lets himself in. Jeongguk’s mouth falls open because he couldn’t believe Namjoon could just easily waltz in without any resistance. What’s even more astounding was that he knew Yoongi’s passcode— while he, on the other hand, had to ring the fucking doorbell.

“Oh, great. So your boyfriend knows your passcode and I don’t?” Jeongguk asks.

“He isn’t my boyfriend,” Yoongi states, matter-of-factly. Jeongguk couldn’t help but glance at Namjoon’s way, who seemed unfazed.

“Right, and I’m Neil Armstrong,” Jeongguk plops down on the couch.

“You’re the CEO, Jeongguk, of course, you should know the passcode… right, Yoongi?” says Namjoon, ever the oblivious one.

Yoongi continues to do work on his computer, his fingers deftly flying across his keyboard, “Don’t encourage him, Namjoon.”

Namjoon looks back at Jeongguk who has now taken an interest in the plant beside the couch. When they met each other’s eyes, Namjoon just shrugged, his dimples showing.

“How was your flight, you guys? I hope everything was easy peasy.”

“Easy peasy lemon squeezy,” Jeongguk responds. “Not sure about Yoongi here though. He looked like he was about to puke.”

“Shut up,” Yoongi retaliates.

“I can’t imagine the both of you tolerating each other while in another country. It’s a miracle this production company is still standing upright,” Namjoon says chuckling.

Namjoon met Jeongguk first in university while they studied in New York. Although Jeongguk was a business student and Namjoon double majored in music theory and composition, they ran into each other at a frat party-— with Jeongguk being drunk off his ass. He was about to fall into the pool full of piss (which the other frat members thought was funny) when Namjoon saved him in the nick of time.

Apart from Yoongi, Namjoon also served as Jeongguk’s confidant, especially after things went south between you and Jeongguk. When the dust settled and Jeongguk was sober enough to realize the gravity of his mistakes, Namjoon helped Yoongi pick up the pieces of Jeongguk’s brokenness. As with time passing by, Namjoon and Yoongi started to develop into something more, too. Much to Jeongguk’s delight and envy.

However, neither Yoongi nor Namjoon has admitted their feelings to the other. And truth be told, Jeongguk is sick of them dancing around each other.

But he also knows it’s none of his business.

“Hey, Jeongguk, is that family dinner of yours still happening tonight?” Yoongi decides to ask. Also probably to change the subject.

Jeongguk lets out a deep sigh. “Yes, it is.”

“Ouch. Will you be alright?” Namjoon asks out of genuine concern.

“I don’t really have a choice.”

“You always have a choice, Jeongguk-ah,” Yoongi inserts. “You just need to work on making the right ones.”

Jeongguk slacks his jaw and runs his tongue across his lip ring. He doesn’t really have an answer to that.

Because once again, Yoongi was right. Not just about the damn family dinner; Jeongguk also knows his best friend’s words run deeper and imply a whole lot more than just feeling forced to sit down with his parents over steak and champagne.

“See you on the other side, then,” Namjoon says as he pats Jeongguk on the shoulder before leaving the room.

Jeongguk mulled over bringing flowers to the family dinner but decided against it.

He knows that the house would be filled with them, anyway. And his efforts won’t matter, either.

As he got out of his car, a chauffeur was already by his side ready to take his keys for him. When the car drove off, Jeongguk took a moment to look at the house he hadn’t lived in for years. It feels odd to come home; it feels even odder to feel numb about all of it.

It took Jeongguk a few seconds to ring the doorbell; for god’s sake, it was his house too, he thought. Ringing the doorbell meant he was a stranger— which he felt was appropriate.

He was greeted by a new housekeeper. He gave her a nod before stepping inside. Almost instantly, his mother appeared at the top of the staircase. They look at one another for a moment, before his mother breaks the silence.

“You finally decide to show yourself.”

Jeongguk doesn’t move. Doesn’t respond, either. He was prepared for a stare-off match with his mother, but that was until his father showed up from the kitchen. With a dish towel in hand, Jeongguk’s father smiled at him as he placed a hand on his son’s shoulder.

“It’s so good to see you, son.”

Jeongguk, once more, doesn’t have it in him to respond.

At the dinner table, the silence was so loud, that Jeongguk thought it could break glass.

“Did you settle in fine, Jeongguk?” his father asks.

“Yes, father, I did.”

“You should have chosen a place that was nearer to us, Jeongguk,” his mother chides.

“Honey…” Jeongguk’s father tries to put out a fire that is about to ignite. Jeongguk, on the other hand, was so tired from the flight and emotionally, that he felt a need to retaliate.

Because why not? Whether he speaks up or not wasn’t really up to him. Between him and his mother, he has nothing to lose.

“I don’t know, mother, I chose that place because I wanted to get away from here as much as possible.” Jeongguk remarks. He knows he hit a nerve because his mother downed her champagne rather than respond.

“How is the company going, son? Everything doing alright?” his father asks, trying to mitigate a conflict that neither of them could recover from.

“I guess. Yoongi and I haven’t managed to burn anything so that’s nice,” Jeongguk eats a spoonful of mashed potato. He knows he really needs to shut up and regulate his emotions, but he just can’t help but be sarcastic.

Once more, the silence won. However, Jeongguk’s mother is the type to not back down.

“You should think about getting married soon, Jeongguk—” she starts. Jeongguk feels himself grow cold as if on instinct.

“—and this time, we want you to marry someone your level,” she finishes. Jeongguk felt his heart twisting so painfully that he didn’t notice how tight he held on to his cutlery.

Jeongguk swallows the once-repressed pain that used to consume him whole. He knows this is futile because he never dares to face his regrets square in the face. Instead, he allows the pain to make him angry. He allows his resentment to consume him in ways he doesn’t know how to handle and in a pained effort to avoid causing further damage, he remains quiet. Unresponsive. Cold. Withdrawn.

But his own mother is even more cold-hearted than he is. She is the one who made him like this.

It’s her fault.

“You need to marry a good woman who can keep up with your social status. Remember you’re not just anyone, Jeongguk. You’re a Jeon. And you have a legacy to uphold,” his mother condescends.

Tears start to sting Jeongguk’s eyes, but he doesn’t want to let his mother win. So he keeps still.

“I have a few prospects for you, dear. We should set dates for them, don’t you think so? I chose the most refined and educated—” Jeongguk hates how his mother knows how to push his buttons and hurt him.

He knows that his mother knows his ultimate weakness.

You.

And because his mother cannot contain her insecurities and prejudice, she projects it all on her son. But most especially, you— whether you were in the room or not.

Jeongguk’s mother continues her monologue. His father miserably fails to become the referee (he always does). Heat starts to rise Jeongguk’s neck and he swears he could hear his own blood pumping through his ears. What almost immediately follows is the high-pitched ringing that only he can hear.

Jeongguk starts to feel dizzy; like he’s about to lose control.

But instead of releasing, instead of crying, instead of getting angry— he does none of them.

He finds himself standing up, his hands dragging the plate full of food to the ground. With all his might, Jeongguk tries to breathe deeply.

“That’s enough, mom.” Jeongguk croaks. A tear escapes his eye. “Please.”

Jeongguk rarely addresses her as “mom”. But in times of vulnerability and helplessness, it’s the term he ends up using.

“As I expected… you are still weak, Jeongguk.” his mother states with absolutely no remorse.

Jeongguk feels like he is about to throw up. To save himself, he drags his legs to leave the dining area. Housekeepers try to help him, but he brushes them aside. Security guards around the house up until the gate tried to support him, but Jeongguk just waved them all off.

He just needed to get away before his vision completely blurred. He needed to get out of this godforsaken house.

It was a miracle that Jeongguk got far away from the house as he had. But in doing so, he felt physically weaker and weaker. His mind isn’t done with him yet as thoughts of you start to resurface. His chest starts to tighten again. He feels cold and afraid and tired.

Jeongguk falls to his knees on the side of the road; he allows his body to go limp and fall to the ground.

He barely remembers what happened next.

When Jeongguk opens his eyes, bright, stale lights greet him.

He hears beeping, faint footsteps, a voice over an intercom.

He feels something brushing his leg so gently that it takes him a while before realizing that someone is standing over him, wiping the edge of his slacks.

Jeongguk squints his eyes to get a better look at the person touching his leg. When he tries to elevate his upper body, the person in front of him feels him moving.

Jeongguk couldn’t believe who he was seeing. His panic attack must still be happening because it was impossible.

It was you.

“Oh… hi,” you start. Jeongguk is at a loss for words so he continues to stare at you.

You immediately feel self-conscious so you start to wrangle the damp cloth you were holding.

“Are you okay? Hang on, I’ll call the nurse—”

You start to leave, but Jeongguk catches your wrist. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. You look at his hand on your wrist before Jeongguk lets go of it.

“W-what happened?”

“You’re at the hospital… um, I– I got a call from them saying you were here,” you say.

Jeongguk’s eyebrows met. He is still confused as to how or why the hospital would call you. As he looks at you, in the flesh, in front of him, the familiar ache in his chest threatens to overwhelm him again.

You look as beautiful as ever, even more so than the last time he saw you. The last time he did, you were crying to him. He did that to you. That was his fault.

“Are you hurt, anywhere, Jeongguk? I think I need to call your doctor, just give me a second—”

“No… please. I’m okay. I don’t feel any pain.” Except for my broken heart.

“Oh… okay.”

Jeongguk observes you, more particularly your hands. You still have that habit of fiddling with your fingers when you didn’t know what to do, he thinks.

“H-how did the hospital call you? You didn’t change your number?” Jeongguk is a hundred percent sure his choice of questions was dumb, but he doesn’t have any idea as to why you’re here.

“The hospital told me I was your emergency contact… they uh– they only found your wallet on you and found this,” you explain as you handed him his wallet. Inside was an old piece of paper with your emergency contact number and e-mail address.

“The e-mail address is now defunct, but my number is still the same because I had it reactivated when I came back here…”

When I came back here, Jeongguk repeated to himself.

Jeongguk wanted to ask you a million questions, but his throat feels dry and he is unable to speak.

“I um, I also called Yoongi. He should be here any minute,” you continue. When Jeongguk looks at you funny, you give him a small smile— the first one you’ve given him since he woke up. “We talk sometimes.”

There is a lot of information that Jeongguk needs to process but his head hurts a lot and he makes a mental note to interrogate his friend later.

You move to grab and open the plastic bag that is on the bedside table. You pull out a pair of black socks. Jeongguk sees you hesitate a bit before speaking again.

“I got these across the street… your socks got wet from the rain.”

“Oh.” Jeongguk feels really dumb.

“May I?” you tentatively ask. “Your feet will get cold if we don’t—and you have the IV on so you won’t be able to use your hands—”

“It’s okay…” Jeongguk’s response startles you. “Thank you.”

You nod and sit by his feet to put on the new socks. Jeongguk feels the tears again but he tries to hold them back as he feels your touch and your warm fingers graze his bare, cold skin. When you’re done putting them on him, you smile to yourself.

“Does that feel better?” you ask.

Jeongguk nods and hums. He took his time to look at you and to his mild surprise, you reciprocated. A sense of stillness seemed to occur like time stopped just so Jeongguk could fully take in the sight of you.

He hurriedly tries his best to memorize all your features—old and new. Your face is smaller, your cheekbones higher; both indicative of you losing a bit of weight since he saw you last. Your eyes are softer, but also more tired. You also grew out your hair.

To Jeongguk, you are still so beautiful.

And he missed you so much that his heart hurt again at the thought of losing you.

“How are y—” Jeongguk tries to ask, but the door to his hospital room slid open, revealing a disheveled Yoongi.

“Jeongguk, are you okay? What happened?”

Jeongguk notices you quickly moving aside to give Yoongi room.

“I’m fine, Yoongi. I guess I just passed out and—”

“You had another panic attack, Jeongguk. That’s the second time this week. Have you taken your medication?”

Yoongi’s string of questions had Jeongguk feeling anxious. He just had the unexpected chance of seeing you again but under the most dire circumstances. Surely, it wasn’t the time for you to hear about his mental health issues.

“Yoongi, can we—” Jeongguk tried to save face, but Yoongi was faster.

Yoongi turns to you and hugs you. “I’m sorry, ____, you must have been so confused.”

“No, not at all, I’m… I’m glad I could be of help,” you reassure. More so for Jeongguk because you know this must be very awkward for him.

A bit of awkwardness did happen because none of you spoke for a bit. Your phone ringing was the only saving grace.

“Hello? Oh, okay. I’ll be right out,” you answer the other person on the line. Hanging up, you say, “Um… I should get going.”

“Is someone picking you up?” Yoongi asks.

“Yes, Taehyung’s just a few minutes away,” you answer.

Yoongi nods and pulls you in for another hug. He whispers his thanks and you respond by hugging him tighter.

You also approach Jeongguk a little closer. “Take care of yourself, Jeongguk.” You see the pain in his eyes, but you refuse to acknowledge it to yourself, even if Jeongguk’s eyes were brimming with unshed tears and his nose was already pink.

Jeongguk doesn’t want you to go. But again, he has no choice but to let you.

“You too, ____.”

As soon as you close the door, Jeongguk allows his tears to fall.

As soon as you get into the car, Taehyung asks his questions.

“Why the hell did you just come out of a hospital?”

“Tae—”

“Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere? You’re the only one there? What happened?” You can feel the panic rising in Taehyung as he inspects you, but you just chuckle.

“Yah—you laugh?”

“I’m fine, Taehyung,” you tell him but he doesn’t look convinced. “I really am.”

“Then why were you in there?”

“I saw Jeongguk again, Tae,” you calmly respond.

Taehyung freezes. “You’re joking, right?”

“I’m not,” you answer.

“And you’re… are you okay?”

“I am.”

Taehyung knows you better than that but he gives you a pass because he could also tell you were tired and your short answers mean that you didn’t want to talk just yet.

“Do you want to talk about it over ice cream and fries?”

For a second, you felt tempted, but you just also wanted to go home. “Maybe some other time, Taehyung.”

Taehyung understands immediately and nods. “Should I take you to Woosung hyung or do I take you home?”

You do want to see Woosung because you know he is what you need, but you also don’t want to burden him with a bombshell of an event so you opt to be alone for the night. “Take me home, please.”

“Okay, ____,” Taehyung answers.

The rest of the car ride was a quiet one.

The short walk in the hallway leading to your home is a heavy one. As you punch in your passcode, you deeply sigh. You want nothing more than to collapse on the bed and ruminate on what just happened over the past few hours.

However, the moment you open the door, a wave of delicious scents welcomes you home. As you take off your shoes, you see a familiar pair. You smile to yourself as you place yours beside it.

You enter your home further and see Woosung with his back to you, working his way in the kitchen. As if on cue, Woosung turns around and walks toward you.

“Hey you,” you say with a smile.

“Hi,” Woosung responds, gathering you in his arms and pulling you into a tight embrace. “Did you have a good day, today?”

You feel yourself swallow once before nodding. Woosung, ever the sensitive boyfriend, holds you tighter.

You know you can’t hide from him. So you hold on to him tighter, too.

And you allow yourself to break down and cry.

Woosung feels your body shake and he runs his hand across your back to soothe you.

He may not know what’s going on right now, but he also knows you will talk to him when you’re ready. So he continues to embrace you; kissing the side of your head after a while.

Woosung whispers against your ear, “You’re safe with me, sweetheart.”

taglist: @whoa-jo @nays2112 @junecat18 @jk97bam @butterymin @smdnai

tags for interested readers will be open for as long as this fic is ongoing! let me know in the comments or message me, whatever fits your preference!

#jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook x you #jungkook angst #jungkook scenarios #bts au #bts au fanfic #woosung x reader #jungkook divorce au #divorce au

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zuzuelectricbugaloo · 2 months ago

Note

I don’t get why some fans of Yugo get mad or annoyed at him for disliking his own Sans. He’s been dealing with nonstop fans for years who only focus on the memes surrounding Epic!Sans. Yugo has even expressed regret over making his Sans just a walking meme in the past, and of course, that would take a toll on his mental state and how he feels about the character. When people say he should stop talking about it, they don’t seem to understand that others constantly bring it up to him. It’s his character, and he has every right to vent about it however he wants.

You’re absolutely right, Epic is Yugo’s character, and he has every right to do as he pleases in how he uses said character and feels about it. I don’t condone harassment, and am firmly against attacking a creator simply because you passionately dislike or like a character of theirs.

One of my qualms with Yugo about Epic is how they blamed all of their mistakes and “cringe” of Epictale as a whole and projected it onto Epic and claimed the character’s death and celebration of his end meant that Yugo was absolved of any discomforting behaviors or jokes.

When he still continues to do so, even with characters from Epictale he likes.

Silly and goofy memes, might not be everyone’s preferred taste but there’s nothing inherently wrong with that. Memes are supposed to be silly and fun.

But then Yugo having to be convinced by their fans not to do NSFW commissions involving minors?

No no sorry, that’s not fair. Of course anyone who is broke would be desperate, and they’re just fictional characters, right? Whats the harm? No way does fiction impact reality in anyway.

Doesn’t that reasoning sound familiar?

And anyway, Yugo rejected it in the end. Of course that should be ignored then and any criticism of it is unwarranted.

My mistake. It’s still not fair. At least with Epic dead and gone, Epictale is free from anymore cringe and problematic anime tropes!

Again, I don't mean this as an attack on you or Yugo. It's a criticism, and one where my overall point is that my biggest gripe with Yugo isn't that I love his character and he doesn't. It's that Yugo seemed to absolve himself of all his shortcomings by projecting them onto Epic and therefore is free from error or criticism now.

Disliking that Red/Lara and Mettaton are in love with Papyrus who is seventeen makes you a hater. SEVENTEEN. They are literally centuries of years old, even in the remake. I know in reality, the age of consent varies per state in the USA and especially varies depending on country, with minors able to be married in some with their parents or guardians' consent, but still. It's uncomfortable. It's unnecessary. Papyrus could be shipped with Lara and Mettaton as an adult, as he is in Undertale by the fandom and in other AUs. But now with the context that Lara and Mettaton knew Papyrus since he was a child, it's disconcerting to imagine romance with any of them. Look, it's understandable for a creator to feel a certain way about their work and how it's interpreted. Especially in what they choose to do with their creations, in revamping or remaking things, and how they feel about it and choose to get rid of some things entirely.

For the most part, I enjoy Epictale and have read his brief Neutral!Frisk storyline. Yugo is a talented artist, and I adore Epictale and the characters and the great potential they all have and what can be expanded on it.

The old Epictale bore the same errs as many AUs within the UTMV fandom in its early years. Fantastic AUs with amazing concepts often had something problematic about them and this was sadly normalized. From the past Cream comics portraying SA as romantic or silly, to PJ's Daycare and the like also joking about minors/adults, SA and r*pe, SH, etc. Or it could be problematic with Frans or Fontcest, either in canon within the AU or played around with as concept. Epictale wasn't worst of them, nor was it the outlier in one of its characters joking about or portraying these problematic things.

Here's a big one: Underlust. It's not a masterpiece, and like many AUs, has so much potential. Unfortunately, there's so much that detracted from it that a remake or dismissal of most of its canon is needed if you want to find any enjoyment from it at all.

Same thing with the past Cream comics. At that point, the blog itself caused too much for its creators and they deleted it and made it non-canon entirely. I don't know what happened to the UL creator, but I assume something similar happened.

Sorry, back to Lust. I was not active in the fandom in its early years, I only witnessed glimpses of it and when I wanted to get into something, like Cream, it upset me too much and I left the fandom. In particular with Underlust, it makes me so sad because I was introduced to him through fanon first, where someone had an SA experience and used Lust as an expression of what it was like to go through something like that in his line of work. And it felt cathartic. Comforting. A character who could understand how I felt, who was was unconventional in their self-expression and yet happy and at peace with who they are, would be able to heal and find happiness regardless of what happened to them. But then I found the parts of his canon with Fontcest. And it turned out Lust had nothing like his fanon and it hurt. I could no longer enjoy the AU and ignored it entirely from then on. But Lust, today, is still so dear to me because of what he could be.

Yugo wants to move on from the past and be a better person. I think that's a noble endeavor. Anyone can be a better person and change. That doesn't make it easy, and it certainly doesn't mean that everyone will try.

And for the most part, Yugo seemed to make progress. Epictale in and out of its comics doesn't make any more jokes about sexual harassment as far as I'm aware. There are no harmful slurs used in a joking manner. For the most part, it seems Yugo made good on their word and is trying to move on from his past mistakes. Many creators of UTMV's past seem to do something similar, and I wish them all peace and commend them for trying to move on and be better. However, when Yugo crucifies Epic as the source of all his problems, and uses him as the symbol for burying the past and amending his mistakes, only to then make similar ones (far less severe than the ones he used to do, admittedly, but still concerning nonetheless) instead of using Epic's potential to make him be as Epic as his namesake, it doesn't piss me off, at Yugo or his fans. Fans won't always focus on what a creator originally wanted them to focus on. That's simply the nature of fandom. And memes are one of the most popular enjoyments of fans and is the most unifying act among them. But there would also be fans who love things besides the memes, who will work to enjoy and create what they can gleam from canon and expand on it, in art or fiction, with other characters in the story. So long as fans don't attack the creator, harass them, insult or demand they do more with their preferred character(s), I don't see anything wrong with this. It sounds like a regular community to me. No. It just makes me sad. But as you pointed out, it's Yugo's character and his right to do as he pleases. So, respectfully, Yugo wishes to have nothing to do with Epic anymore; I am all too happy to love him along with the fandom. Because to truly move on from the past, you need to accept accountability. I know Epic used to have problematic characteristics, be it in the noncanon comics or art, but it was a part of his character. I acknowledge that. And I want to move on. Remove the parts of the past that are bad, and instead of ignoring it, use it as a reference of what not to do, as a reference to be better and do better. I want to build on his potential and love him. Because Epic makes me happy, and I know he makes others happy too. Why not heal and work together to create something everyone can enjoy?

#ask me anything #epic sans #epictale

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neerons · 8 months ago

Text

Some of Sariel Noir's best quotes

"Know that this devil will stake his life on your pure heart, your wise gaze, and your fierce resolve."

"There is something I wish to protect, even if it means selling my soul to the true devil himself, and burning for all eternity in the fires of hell."

"Do you realize who you resemble, when you act in that manner?" (—Sariel to Emma acting like him)

"Rio, what in the world makes you think she could be in a flower vase? Calm yourself." (—Sariel talking about Emma to Rio while they're looking for her)

"There is no harm in sucking up to me."

"You have always been courageous, determined to put your emotions aside and process things logically whenever possible. And I certainly consider it a desirable trait to possess. But too much has happened this evening, and I imagine you're well past the limit of what you can tolerate. I do not mind if you need to prioritize how you are feeling right now."

"If you ever refer to me like that again, I must warn you that you may not see the next sunrise." (—Sariel to Gilbert calling him 'Daddy')

"At last I've found you. (...) I imagine a little discipline will go a long way with you... hehe..."

"It would seem you have a lot of confidence in your ability to remember things. (...) ...I am simply wondering whether you ought not be taking notes. While it's true books can be reread, much of the information I am sharing with you is not written down anywhere. As such, you may find it useful to write things down so that you may review them later."

"So long as the kingdom and its people exist, our noble beasts will give everything they have to protect it. As you know, they have very different ideologies, and they are a problematic lot, but... on this one matter alone, almost all of them can be trusted." (—Sariel talking about the Rhodolitian princes to Emma)

"It's a basic right. Everyone needs time to rest and relax, no matter who they are."

"I'm fond of those who are wise—regardless of gender."

"I'm talking about the creature that says 'squeak squeak' and begins with the letter R. I cannot even put that filthy word in my mouth." (—Sariel talking about rats)

"(...) Prince Gilbert, rude though it may be of me to ask, perhaps you would be kind enough to vanish for the time being?"

"There probably aren't many ladies that would be able to approach Prince Gilbert." (—Sariel talking in front of Emma, Keith, Silvio, Rio and Gilbert)

"...Now, now. I am a man, you are a woman, and we're all alone in your bedroom at night. How might you want this scenario to end?"

"To say that I'm relieved to have you beside me is an understatement." (—Sariel's lobby dialogue)

"(...) I did feel some murderous intent in the cane, however." (—Sariel to Gilbert pointing his cane at him)

"Dear Prince Clavis, (...) Apparently you made a child bawl in the middle of town? Please act your age. (...) There have been complaints that people who got wet because of you were close to catching colds because of it. It's winter. Please do not be using water or ice. This is not an invitation to make traps using fire. *NO MICE. The next time I see any, I will put them in a bag along with you and send it down the river. I have warned you." (—Sariel's letter to Clavis)

"...Prostate himself? (...) ...Ahh, I see. Wonderful, I shall have to make the hellcat do it the next time I get the chance." (—Sariel talking about Clavis to Rio)

"You damned hellcat—" (—Sariel to Clavis)

"I do not know what choice you will make going forward, but... For as long as you are able, do not let each other go. Especially because you love each other. It makes no difference whether you are a prince or a commoner. A person needs someone to love in order to remain human. I learned this after witnessing what happened to His Majesty." (—Sariel to Rio)

"What on earth are you doing curled up so disgracefully on the floor like that, Dog?" (—Sariel to Rio)

"(...) At that time, Clavis was the most innocent and childlike of the princes. I had to admit that I was easily swayed by his sweet grin. He took a keen interest in anything and everything, and he had a strong drive. Clavis was the student—well, disciple—I shared most of my knowledge with." (—Sariel's thoughts about young Clavis)

"Which do you like better, spending time with me like this, or spending time reading a book?"

"You are right, it would be tactless of me to speak ill of you when you are present. I shall wait until you are absent, and then I will be free to speak as much ill of you as I wish." (—Sariel to Clavis)

"(...) I'm the one who taught Prince Nokto and Prince Licht how to use their swords."

"I wonder how many times he and I have shared a drink now. I remembered the times where instead of amber-colored wine, there was water or milk in the cups in front of us. We had been partaking in these laidback meetings ever since we were both young. They were an absolute necessity for us." (—Sariel's thoughts about Jin)

"(...) You misunderstand me. I don't hate the man, I despise him." (—Sariel talking about Clavis to Emma)

"Now, now. Don't be so sullen. Another fundamental aspect of training someone is to make them want something but never completely satisfy them."

"I also despise hellcats, miscreants, oh, and the Third Prince." (—Sariel talking about Clavis)

"If you do, I'm not nursing you back to health." (—Sariel to Rio telling him he might faint because of how beautiful Emma is)

"(...) Since Emma isn't available to praise you, shall I do the honors instead?" (—Sariel to Rio)

"Hehe, I'm never going to let you run away from this palace of beasts. Will you continue to allow them, and myself, to enjoy your company to the fullest?"

"My hobby is teasing those who are worth teasing, such as yourself. Think of it as an honor that you met my expectations." (—Sariel's lobby dialogue)

"In that instance, I was considering binding Emma's arms behind her back and dumping her in the river. Hehe, naturally, I am joking. I have absolute confidence in my judge of character." (—Sariel talking about Emma potentially failing his test to Rio and Emma)

"I have one more order for you, if that's all right. (...) I'd like you to have a drink with me like this every now and then."

"(...) if it is to be a competition, perhaps I shall take part as well." (—Sariel reacting to Luke saying he would steal Emma away)

"The princes were all very excited when they discovered that today is your birthday. Happy birthday." (—Sariel's lobby dialogue)

"You allowed yourself to get so close to her that rumors began circulating that she was your mistress. Did you keep Belle at your side even knowing it would have no benefit for you?" (—Sariel to Chevalier)

"Prince Chevalier's faction are perhaps a little too free-willed, and at times the ache in my—"

"Consider it one of the perks of being Belle. You are permitted to keep a pet at the palace. (...) This is your pet, is it not? When I entered the bookstore, it started barking non-stop, so I had no choice but to bring it with me." (—Sariel talking about Rio to Emma)

"Hmm? Is something the matter? I can't imagine why you're blushing. Careful now, or you really will get eaten."

"Don't worry. It doesn't matter what kind of noise you make. If anyone overhears and finds fault with you, this devil of a man will take care of it. So please, won't you allow me to hear every last sweet sound?"

#might update later as usual #sariel noir #ikemen prince #ikeprince #cybird otomes #cybird #ikemen series #ikeprince sariel #quotes #ikeprince quotes #otome games #quotes collection

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a-queer-seminarian · 7 months ago

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Hello, sibling. Do you have resources for intersex Christians? Anything counts, trust. I'm an intersex Catholic and feel very alone in my community. I know God loves me and made me perfectly, but I would love to see fellow intersex Christians talking about our bodies, identities and faith. God bless you

Hey there. My heart goes out to you in your loneliness; you are beloved by God, and you are perfect as you are, even if human beings deny and erase you.

I am also sorry that the broader queer community also too often fails to remember intersex folk and include y'all in our efforts towards justice. You deserve solidarity, deserve to have your pain and your joys listened to as much as any of us.

And, I am happy to tell you that yes, I've got some intersex faith resources for you!

Let's start with intersex Christians talking about their experiences, and then we'll get to some intersex-resonant scripture.

...below the readmore.

Intersex Christians sharing their stories

Stories of Intersex and Faith — a documentary! I have not watched it yet because it costs $20 for an individual to rent it, but if you are interested but the cost is prohibitive, please let me know and I'm happy to rent it for you! .

"I'm an Intersex Christian — and It's Time the Church Listened to Me" (article, major trigger warning for discussion of medical abuse & trauma on a young child; to avoid it, you can skip to paragraph beginning: "The heart of the issue is that church still sees me as problematic...", after which are discussions of trouble with church but also suggestions for improvement) .

Interview with Sara Gillingham, author of the previous article (video, 51 minutes) .

And here's a Facebook video: "What do you wish more Christians knew about intersex people" (video, 2 minutes) .

Another FB video by the same person on how churches can be more supportive of intersex people (video, 3 minutes)

An intersex Catholic Saint?

If you haven't heard of Madre Juana de la Cruz, who would point to her pronounced adam's apple as proof that she had been "male in the womb," check her out!

Now let's check out some intersex-resonant Bible stories, plus intersex theology

For a concise, accessible look at intersex readings of various biblical figures, check out my webpage here... . as well as my webpage here for interpretations of Jesus himself as intersex (and trans)! (The intersex part is fairly brief, but includes links some scholarly essays if you want to learn more about intersex Jesus) . Please note that the focus of my site is trans theology (because that's my focus most of the time), but where a passage is also applicable to intersex folk I make sure to bring them in too, with links to further reading. For instance, did you know Abraham and Sarah were considered intersex by some rabbis in the Talmud?? .

"Male, Female, and Intersex in the image of God" with Lianne Simon and Megan DeFranza (video, 1.5 hours) — great intro to some intersex theology if reading isn't your thing

Intersex in Christ: Ambiguous Biology and the Gospel by Jennifer Anne Cox (book) .

"Intersexuality in Scripture” by Sally Gross (essay free online) . Note that this essay is from 1998 and the language used reflects that, but Gross is one of the foundational intersex theologians. . Also if you want to skip over all her intro paragraphs defining intersex, skip to the paragraph starting "As a brute physical phenomenon, the bodiliness of people who are born intersexed challenges cherished assumptions...")

Sex Difference in Christian Theology by Megan DeFranza (book)

_______

I hope some of those resources can help you feel a little less alone. There are other intersex Christians, including many who lead, write, preach!

I'll close with a regret: I was trying to find any kind of virtual community for intersex Christians, or even just intersex people in general. I wasn't able to find such a place.

If anyone knows of some online intersex support groups or communities, please share! Or if you have other intersex Christian resources you wanna add, share those as well.

I can suggest that you check out this webpage of intersex advocacy groups across the world. If there happens to be one by you and you get involved, I wouldn't be surprised if you met some other intersex Christians there.

Wishing you well, sibling. When you feel alone, may the intersex Christ enfold you in love. When you feel like "the only one," may the stories of faithful intersex people past and present bring you encouragement.

#intersex christians #intersex catholics #intersex theology #queer theology #bible study

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fanonical · 3 months ago

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Did you ever get my ask? I asked about what to do when a child loves something by a problematic author. How do you go about telling them if they’re too young? SHOULD you tell them? I’m talking about current 10 year old HP fans and children who like the Coraline movie. What do we do when it’s them and not adults? We forget about the target audience too much when we talk about things like this as if it were exclusively childhood nostalgia of Millenials/Gen Z

For fuck's sake, I didn't want to rise to the bait here, but this is making me mad because it's such a straw argument, so fuck it, I'm taking the bait. For context, this is anon's first ask:

Anon, first off, you are responding to a post that is five years old and about a subject that we pointedly do not post about anymore, and that alone makes me think you're not responding in good faith, but whatever.

Look, I work in a fucking library. We have HP books. If a child comes up to me and asks 'hey where's the HP books' I am not going to a) kick them in the face, b) tell them they're an idiot or c) refuse to answer. I am going to tell them where the fucking HP books are. I don't put them on displays I make, but I don't censor them, because we are legally not allowed to censor books in the library.

But I guess you're asking more if this is a kid who's in my life, as opposed to a kid who I just kinda come across. So, okay, I have a 9 year old neighbour whose family are friends with mine, we play video games together occasionally when her mum and dad need someone to watch her. And this kid reads books! And this kid reads fantasy books.

If I was seriously talking to her about the HP books, I might tell her about JKR! I would say something like 'I used to like the HP books, but then I learned that the author said some really nasty things about trans people like me. Now I don't like them so much any more.' And we could have a conversation about that, you know! I've talked to this kid about transphobia in terms that are appropriate for her age. We've had discussions about gender before. I think she'd listen to me, and form her own fucking opinion about it! 'I don't like the author of the HP books because she has said some nasty things' is a concept you can communicate to a five year old.

But also like. You're kind of acting like by taking away HP from this (hypothetical in your ask) kid they don't have any other books. Which...isn't true? If all copies of the HP books disappeared off the face of the earth tomorrow, kids would be reading other stuff, as they are currently reading other stuff! My 9 year old neighbour is a huge Jacqueline Wilson fan, she loves the Daisy Meadows rainbow fairy books. I want to introduce her to the Morrigan Crow books. We could get retro and start introducing kids to the Edge Chronicles, I fucking loved those books. Artemis Fowl. A Series of Unfortunate Events. There are so many other book series for kids in this world. I work in a fucking library! I can tell you that the kids are into Tom Gates, Dogman, Diary of a Wimpy Kid, Percy Jackson, Babysitter Club, Dork Diaries, and (exasperated sigh) David Walliams books, based on a sample size of every kid I encounter at work. I get asked for all of them far more than I do for HP, actually.

I don't think you'd be ruining every kid's lives by taking away One Series from them. (Particularly not one that's losing some relevancy every day - and I mean that in the sense that it's not an ongoing series, the last book came out in 2007. Nearly 20 years ago. For a nine or ten year old, that's almost double their entire life.) And I don't think you necessarily would be taking it away from them to say 'hey this is the reason I don't like these books'. I trust your average ten year old to be able to have a reasonably mature conversation. You're making it sound like they're all Oliver Twist holding out their gruel bowl saying 'please sir I only read one book'.

Anyway. All this to say, I think kids have the ability to have conversations about media. And there are other books in the world. So, no, taking HP or Coraline or whatever away from kids is hardly snatching candy from a baby. Kids are smarter than you think.

#Ask #Anon

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pinguwrites · 1 year ago

Note

Dark!Neil refusing to pull out when the reader needs him to due to not being on birth control.

"no please stop, we can't! . . . hehehhehHAHHHAHA "

Drabble: dark!neil refuses to pull out

pairing | dark!neil lewis x girlfriend!reader

Warnings: non-con, smut, dark!neil, forced breeding kink, sexism, implied reader co-owns gumshoe video with neil, PROCEED WITH CAUTION, DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE

Disclaimer: Watching The Detectives characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

A/N: you have @mrkdvidal1989 to thank for this, I took a break from another fic to get this out real quick so I could give you guys some fuel 😘. Writing about neil also reminds me of a dream I recently had where Neil spit in my mouth on a beach sooo yeah

"Fuck, Neil!"

You weren't sure what had gotten into your boyfriend today. Since morning he had been uncharacteristically handsy and needy — not that he wasn't a little pervert most days — only that it was becoming so public and obvious that you had to swat Neil's hand away and give him a warning glare just so he would quit warding of the customers, multiple times since you both arrived at Gumshoe Video.

"I had a dream," he had murmured, wrapping you up in his arms, only for his hands to slide up underneath your skirt and feel the curve of your ass, to which you had snapped at him before frantically looking around the store to see if anyone saw.

"Well," you said in response, "you can tell me about it later — Friday's are one of our busiest times!"

Neil had backed away after that, but you could still feel the longing glances he sent over to you. You almost felt bad, though you knew you had to be professional at work. Besides, you relished in the idea of teasing him.

The moment you two had stepped foot inside your shared apartment he had pinned you against the wall and attacked your lips. He carried you to your bedroom, shoved you down on the mattress, grabbed some lube, and started thrusting like mad dog.

"P-please, slow down," you whimpered, the bed shaking so hard the creaks could be heard through the halls. His cock slid in and out of you at a pace Neil never used before, filling up your walls ungracefully, like you weren't his girlfriend, but a hole.

"Can't," he moaned, burying his face in your breasts. "Can't help myself when I'm around you. Just need you so bad . . . You know that dream I was telling you about?"

"Neil — just a break — "

Neil groaned, his hot breath on your neck. "I know women aren't that smart, but c'mon, it was only this afternoon."

Neil could be sexist sometimes. Your family and friends told you to avoid men like that, which was the specific reason you avoided telling them about your boyfriend's often slips. It was just — you loved Neil. You really loved him. There wasn't much else about the topic to discuss, or at least anything you wanted to admit about how problematic it really was.

"I remember," you said, breathless. "Is this what it was about? Fucking me till I pass out?"

"I bred you."

You froze, though your body was still moving due to Neil's deathly grip and the way he was shoving into you so desperately.

"N-no," you protested. "You can't now, I'm not on birth control. I don't have anymore, I ran out, the store's closed — "

" — It's not just that," Neil hissed, interrupting you. "I want a child."

This was bound to happen soon. You and Neil were well on your way to marriage, but not now, not like this. Not when you knew that you both weren't ready to raise a kid.

"You're just saying that because of the dream." You placed your hands against his chest, halfheartedly pushing him off. You didn't want this to be a struggle. You were hoping that he would understand the message and pull out, but he didn't.

Neil shook his head.

"Yes," you insisted, then you got scared. You didn't want to be the woman who only married her man because she got knocked up. What if Neil and you broke up after this? That would be even worse! These few moments of pleasure weren’t worth all the headache in the future.

Neil took your hands and pinned them above your head, pushing them into the soft, cold pillow.

"You do what I say, understand?" Neil said sternly, looking right into your eyes. "Be a good girlfriend and let me give you a child."

"No," you cried out, turning your head, your fear increasing by the second.

Neil used his free hand to grab your chin and forced you to look at him. He had never been this forceful, this violent before.

"Stop being so goddamn stubborn," he spat. "You're gonna have my child wether you like it or not."

He wiped away your tears and buried his head his head back in your breasts, muttering, "Stupid bitch."

Taglist:

@henrywintersdearestgirl @shroombloom-rry @meetmeatyourworst @nela-cutie @madnessandobsession @slut4thebroken @qqquartz7 @mrkdvidal1989

#neil lewis #neil lewis x reader #neil lewis x you #neil lewis x y/n #watching the detectives #cillian murphy #fanfiction #pinguwrites #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober masterlist

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proshippers-against-censorship · 3 months ago

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TW for dark fantasies in a childs mind lol

Hello, minor proshipper here (17). Wanted to share a bit of my experience with fandom spaces and the whole and shipping discourse, that way i want to give antis (though i know most of them are not open to other people's experiences) some views of what i did go through.

I never had parental restriction over internet, i used my mom's cellphone and my brother's computer when i could. Given to that, i discovered what "sex" was to a eager age, before i was 9 years old. Of course i didn't understand fully about the implications of that, in fact i used to do "adult" things to myself in the living (rubbing against furniture) or in my room. I had some stuff i liked to see in drawings already, and it wasn't even explicit stuff. I discovered what vore was because i saw a MLP drawing, i didn't understand it but was like "well, i like to see some weird drawings too".

At age 9 i was gifted a tablet, i had my own gmail and had internet access without any kind of supervision. I watched YouTube and played some games, nothing out of normal considering a lot of my generaion grew up with games such as DDLC, hello neighbor, fnaf and etc. My favorite games were Misao and Mad father, i liked these kinds of games although there weren't many gameplays that I liked of them. I understand the story of the games, they were dark (SPOILERS! misao is about a teacher that rapes students and killed misao, i think he's kind of a necro too.) i knew what the villains did was wrong, because my mom always warned me about strangers, specially when they offered things like driving me home. But i felt attracted to the teacher of Misao regardless, he had a a sad backstory and i liked his personality, his way of making others think he is pure-hearted too. He is an interesting characters. I also had a crush on other morally dark characters, such as Freaky Fred from that show of the scared dog (i loved that show, some people say fred makes references to pedophiles i guess it could be), asgore from undertale, cedric from sofia the first (these two are silly but did bad things so 🤷‍♂️)

I could differentiate that the Misao teacher would be a criminal in real life, that i wouldn't be attracted to him in real life but disgusted and wished his execution, but he doesn't exist so that's not the case. I was in the undertale and gravity falls fandom too, and in that time it was common to see frans, billdip and even pinecest content. I didn't really cared, never liked those ships because they weren't for me. But i did like a lot of other darkships, mainly (Harry potter jumpscare) snarry, i discovered thanks to Wattpad and started reading A LOT of fanfics of them (i had a crush on snape too btw LOL, still have), if someone asked i would have the excuse of "oh no i just like it when harry's an adult and on aus!!!" BIG ASS LIE!!!!! someone cut off my tongue for being such a blunt liar, I LOVED THE FACT THAT IT WAS TEACHER X STUDENT lmao, i liked harry being like 14 minimum tho.

I also had a best friend (who now I don't talk to) that liked kuroshitsuji (i think he was a proshipper in denial she had SUS anime likes), i (person who pretended not to read any weird ship to please others) saw the anime (she obligated me to watch it lmao) AND IT WAS SO OBVIOUSLY SH0TA CONTENT!!!! i was like... side eye in a neutral way. You're telling me you're an anti (I didn't knew the word anti back then but whatever) while your favorite animes are KUROSHITSUJI and MISS KOBAYASHI DRAGON MAID???? plus danganronpa. Like sure i believe you (she denied to ship sebaciel but uhm sure i believe you girl whatever you say). I didn't even liked kuroshitsuji but from time to time i saw sebaciel content because they're cute.

btw i never stopped reaading ships of dark/problematic ships, even when i was a anti (poser lol).

Later at 13 or 14 y/o i changed school and FELL MAD IN LOVE like realllyyyyy bad i was insane for a teacher, since he was the only one kind to me and that respected my pronouns and gender (im a trans male). I WAS DELUSIONAL, AND I DON'T MEAN IT LIKE IN A ABLEIST WAY, literally wanted him to groom me and take me to his home and yk dumb stuff. So what i did not to go insane? Since the psychologists in the school sucked ass they were transphobic and blamed me for a lot of stuff. WRITE/READ FANFICTION AND DRAW MYSELF! express myself in art. i didn't tell no one about my crush until i was out of there. Obviously i wrote, drew and read about teacher x student, grooming, fluff and smut because tbh i might be hypersexual. That kept me sane.

"PROSHIPPING" as antis call it (actually refering to darkships) kept me sane, saved my life since i literally wanted to kms in that moment. Later a had a online boyfriend that was UGGHH so toxic (younger than me for 1 year) and was an anti so bad and i had to pretend to be one too while reading freaky fanfics. I broke up with him because he treated me poorly and a headmate of mine blocked him from everywhere.

I had other friend that i told that i shipped snarry and kaeluc being so frickin nervous and tey literally didn't cared (they didn't know about the characters but i told them), that's when i realised maybe i shouldn't be friends with antis. I currently have like 2-3 active friends i talk to, one i think it's not into shipping drama but dislikes ships such as billdip and says stuff like "i ship billford for the complex relationship I don't support toxic ships!!" and then says they're her fathers be so fr make it make sense... while the other despises dottore (genshin character that experimented on several children blablaba hes bad but he's my little meow meow) and darkships while shipping kazuscara that is like toxic and age gap and ??? THAT SAME FRIEND LIKES TO WATCH... HEAR THIS!!! real gore, like people killing themselves and is on shtwt too??? 😭

seriously I don't get antis that are in these communities. anyways that's my story live laugh love shipcest age gap noncon monsterfuckers cannibalism and other problematic ships MUEHEHE!!! ship and let ship, differentiate fiction from reality, make these siblings kiss, don't harass anyone, PLEASE DON'T CENSORSHIP OTHERS EXPERIENCES AND FICTION!!!!!! i love art ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹💘💘💘 yes even the problematic one 🎉🎉 don't let fandom cops get you!!! have fun, don't hurt people, hug your kitty or doggy and feed them well 😚😚

#proshippers against censorship #jackal barks #proship please interact #proshippers please interact #proship positivity #proship #proshipper safe #proshipping #proshipper #anti anti #ask #asks #pro stance

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