#and even reading the start i was still confused

[kiragecko]

On the whole, I agree with this. And the way people are trying to censor books because they think they’re inherently harmful is quite scary. And, I’ve recognized, come to terms with, AND healed from trauma through stories that would definitely be censored by these types of people.

On the other hand, I believe that having years of nightmares about something IS a sign it traumatized you, and several books have had that effect on me. Usually because I didn’t understand what the book was hinting at, and didn’t realize the effect it was having until I started getting depressed, or having panic attacks. A few times, because the book decided it would be fun to have a ‘shocking twist’ involving something gross and gratuitous.

Those books did NOT give me agency in the face of events. And it harmed me to read them.

-

Bridge to Terebithia gutted me. It was shocking, and made me cry, and haunted me for years. But it was also appropriate to where and who I was when I read it. It didn’t traumatize me.

Judy Blume’s books acted like certain experiences were universal to being a girl, and contributed to my sense that there was something wrong and alien about me. But it was the world that actually traumatized me - the books just reinforced what was already there.

The fanfic I read about the Winter Soldier not thinking he was a human? Which was absolutely filled with memories of awful things happening? I actually found that one very healing! I still remember some of the things characters said while they were teaching him how to reclaim his humanity, and use them as self talk during my darkest periods!

But the book I read about a young idealistic king trying to end the cycle of murder and corruption his family and country were stuck in? That decided to throw a twist at me where all his friends were conspiring against him? And ended with him blinded, broken, and struggling to still be positive as the world got worse around him? That one made me feel sick and dissociative for days. I felt betrayed and paranoid. It would have been fine for someone else, but it was a very bad fit for me.

The book where I first encountered sex, which was written from a preteen who ALSO didn’t understand sex’s perspective? That described penetrative sex as a snake coming out of the dude and biting a lady? Trying to figure out what was going on made me confused and freaked out. When I finally DID figure it out, I carried the main character’s fear of sex for years. It messed me up.

The fanfic where Professor X is running a cult and mentally influences Kitty Pryde to get bulimia so he can more easily manipulate her? It drip-fed me information in a way that I didn’t realize I wanted to stay far away until I was stuck in Kitty’s mindset and desperately trying to disconnect.

I think that these stories should be allowed to exist. I think that it’s fine for people to get value from them. I do NOT think they are inherently harmful!

But that doesn’t mean they didn’t cause harm.

-

People can get PTSD from witnessing a car accident. From THINKING that a friend is dead, even if they’re actually fine. The event doesn’t have to happen to them, or be real.

Books can traumatize people. Anything can traumatize a person. Heck, most neurodivergent people end up with mild PTSD just from doing normal things in a world that tells us that noises and lights aren’t physically painful! (Like, actual, diagnosable, PTSD!)

Traumatizing isn’t the same as evil. Traumatizing things are allowed to exist. But even if it feels silly to other people, we can be hurt by imaginary things.

I'm wondering if, as a society who cares about vulnerable people, we could stop saying "traumatize" when we truly mean "upset"?

I am sick of hearing sad books or movies "traumatize" their readers. I simply do not believe that happens. A traumatic experience might be adjacent to books (I have vivid memories of books I was reading around certain experiences and even how the contents of those books affected my processing of the experiences). But it's not caused by the book. And, y'know. The weather is Christofascist Censorship Attempts outside.

Meanwhile from the other side I continue to be surprised at just how badly people fail to understand trauma and traumatic experiences in general. Watering down the term isn't helping. Find other hyperbole to express that The Bridge to Terebithia gutted you, chewed on your heartstrings, and made you cry your first pair of contact lenses right out of your preteen eyes.

[pedge-page]

Ok can I request something maybe out there. but sedation kink with doctor Joel. like I’m kind of into the idea of doctor/scientist prepping me for an exam or study and putting me under, reassuring and stroking my face because I’ve never been under anesthesia before and he wipes my few tears as I drift off. then he’s fondling me, putting my legs in stirrups, and observing my reactions to different stimuli like fingers, a brush, vibrator, mouth, putting cooling/tingly cream on my nipples/clit, etc., as I’m out and making notes and taking polaroids of my reactions like little twitches and noises, how wet I get, if my nipples react (if he can make me cum by just my nipples) edging me and im making little tired whines but eventually making me cum a few times while I’m out and he’s just watching what happens from down there and talking into his little mic that’s recording all this. then if I start to come to too early he tuts and asks if I want to stay under and I’m still out of it but drowsily say yes because I’m confused but feels good and he (safely) gives me some a little bit more of sedation just enough to keep me in that floaty place and starts fucking me so good that I actually come to while he’s inside and I fully come to as he’s removing the monitors and telling me how good I was for him and asking if it felt good and he’s giving me some water and kissing me telling me it’s okay to sleep because I’m still tired as he cleans me up so he can take us both home.

A Doctor’s Care

Doctor!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Nonny, you practically wrote this yourself. Please give yourself a massive pat on the back, because this was a fantastic idea. I've been foaming at the mouth about it for months (I'm so sorry It took so long!) Hope you're still around to read this!

Warnings : virgin!Reader, corrupt!doctor, corruption kink, sedation kink, non-con, oral, throat fucking, squirting, sex toys, nipple play, unprotected sex, kinda DDDNE-ish , groping, slight breeding kink, pussy pronouns, foot fetish, uhhhh please lmk if I'm missing anything

18+ ONLY

- - - -

“Now, you can start counting up to ten.”

You take a deep breath, trying you best to ignore the needle he had just inserted into your arm. “One, two, th-three, fooour, f-fi…”

He softly brushes your smoothed cheek, watching as your eyelids sag, the heavy lure of sleep washing over your entire body. Your muscles sink into the bed, eyes barely being able to close fully. You had never felt more relaxed. Up to this point, you were an axnious mess, but you knew you were in the good, trustworthy hands of Doctor Miller.

A stray tear wells up, threatening to spill. He smiles warmly and brushes it away for you. He doesn’t want to see you cry when you don’t even know why.

If you were a little more observant, you would have questioned why it was only Dr Miller moving forward with an anesthesia-induced operation. Typically there’s always more than one practitioner in the room. You would have wondered why nobody else was in the hospital at all.

 He told you he could make a special booking for your physical exam, just the two of you, to help alleviate any anxiety about the scary aura of a hospital, the sick people roaming around and watching, peeping in through the doors. He made sure you were the only one here today, to help you get comfortable and have nothing to worry about.

Of course, it is Sunday. Nobody operates on Sunday. The hospital was completely empty save for his office and this room.

Not only is this out of standard procedure, this was off the books.

This was illegal, and you had no idea.

“Dr. Miller, log 47,” he says into his little recorder. “Patient is sedated fully. Heartrate and breathing—“ he gently hovers his fingers rigor below your nose, his eyes scanning the beeping monitor next to you—“ normal and stable. Beginning examination.”

Maybe, if you were smart, you would have also questioned why you needed to be sedated for a basic physical exam. You didnt ask what a physical really entailed, which gave him the perfect excuse for... well. This.  

Joel had offered you some privacy before where he left his office to allow you to change your day clothing into the sterile gown. Such gentlemanly, professional attitude is tossed out the door as he doesn’t hesitate to unfasten the front, popping the buttons off one by one. He starts at your chest, exposing the silk smooth curve of your breasts. “Beautiful, healthy body,” he breathes. Every entimeter of your skin is observed closely. He continues, making his way down to your stomach, admiring your naval with his thick hand petting softly over your belly and unbuttoning down your hips. “I can already see excellent shape for reproduction, should she choose…”

He grins, now having you fully exposed to him under the bright light. Joel places his recorder in his chest pocket, leaving the mic on so he can continue to do his work with both steady hands.

“Fuck me,” he groans, the tent in his slacks already pressing against the cool metal table under you. He adjusts himself slightly, no concern for the perversion of his hard cock jutting out in the open as he brushes it against your legs and arms while circling you.

Dr. Miller was a practiced man. He'd lifted enough unconscious body parts throughout his career, being careful yet precise. It took him no time to hoist your legs into the cradled bend of the stirrups, spread wide and slightly elevated so that your core was exposed.

“Testing reactivity,” he says before pressing your feet with his thumbs. He massages your arch, feeling the tendons shift and resist. His lips ghost the ball of your foot. "Smooth here too. The skin of the feet haven't started callousing yet." Joel’s wet tongue glides along the crevice, thick and warm, before sucking on your toes, lubricating them with his tongue over and over again. He moans, closing his eyes and palming his bulge. You don’t seem to stir at all, but he does briefly catch the way your eyeballs shift underneath your lids, brows drawing then releasing.

He pushes the stirrups forward more, hands on the backs of your thighs until your knees are bent, as if ready to birth.

“Very healthy looking patient below the waist. I’ll need to taste more—test more before the insertion.”

Joel shifts along your side, and with no hesitation, grasps your tits roughly. He scrunches and squeezes tightly, pushing your nipples out until they’re hardened and swollen. He loves the way they feel in his big palms. It was last week when you let him do a breast exam, he was able to fondle them to his liking. He wanted to give them a taste then, but knew you weren’t ready for that.

Consciously, anyway.

A hot month descends upon your breast, and he glances up once again to see your reaction. He rolls your nip around and around before biting lightly. That receives a flinch. He smiles, sucking harder. They’re so warm and firm in his mouth, and he can’t help but suckle along them with fat suctioning sound each time he releases. “Very good potential for milk. Bet she’d make the sweetest milk.” He draws away, grabbing something from the table next to him. “Documenting …” he dabs some freezing cream directly onto your nipple and snaps a picture when your head jolts in surprise. Little sounds get lodged in your throat as he rubs it into your skin, kneading your mounds like dough. “Pretty thing…” he whispers seductively. 

He alternates between his hot mouth and the cold cream, watching your head toss slightly here and there. Your heartrate had also picked up, beeping a little more fervently. Nothing major, but a few beats per minute quicker than before. 

“We’re gonna stress her breathing next,” he sighs, moving up above your head. He feels your collar bone, working his hands up along your esophagus and underneath your neck. Pressing slightly to watch how much further your chest expands for air to ensure you’re still adjusting breath properly. 

Dr Miller unzips his trousers, his hard length falling free and slapping your forehead. He chuckles lazily, rolling it over and over, his tip nudging your nose and closed eyes. You’re so compliant like this. Not even a peep of protest as he nestles his balls overtop your sockets and pushes his head against your soft lips. 

“Seeing how well she can take …foreign objects…obstructing the jugluar.”

He presses in, your lips parting of their own accord to accomodate the intruder. “Ughhh,” he growls. His hands splay along the table, inching himself forward with a roll of his hips. Your jaw opens wider, forced to take the growing girth of his member. A strangled noise hiccups in your throat, and he immediately draws out. The monitor by your side beeps loudly before returning to a regular pace.

He aligns himself again and fucks your mouth, this time further than before until the mushroom tip is bulging in your throat.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhh,” he moans heavenly. He pulls out, lets you breathe, then forces it deeper.  Again and again until you’re taking him for five seconds at a time, deeper and deeper, the table rattling with his incessant humps. “Fuck..you take that, swallowing my cock like a princess, you take cock so good little slut.”

He thrusts in and out until he’s on the verge of cumming. Slipping his cock out the final time, he grips the base, growling to keep his orgasm down. He’d been thinking about it a long time, where he’d defile you last with his seed. As tempting as your tight throat was, he knew there was better ways to make you his confidential patient, forever and always. 

Your vital signs were steady again, although more elevated than you started. Your head twitched to the side slightly, eyeballs rolling under your eyelids. Your body can sense something is happening externally, but cannot rouse itself to intercept. 

He smiles, stroking your spit stained cheeks. “You’re doin’ very well, sweet pea.” its one of his favorite things about these types of exams. Watching how much a patient's instinct tries to fight his ministrations. Yet failing under the sedation and trusting senses of its owner.

For the next hour, Dr. Miller plays with your body. He’s inserted a bullet vibrator up your vaginal walls, controlling its speed and intensity on the little device. With each change in setting, your body reacted differently. Your hips bucked involuntarily, head swayed side to side. Hums of pleasure bubbled in your chest and out your nose, straining to make a coherent noise. He watched, spreading your folds so your little clit was perfectly on display. She throbbed, swelling to an engorged state. So vibrantly colored, filled with blood as he sets her nerves ablaze. 

He’d press his warm lips to her before patching it with a cubed ice. Your body didn’t like that, stomach tensing and knees wanting to lock. He had to get the stirrups tightened around your calves to keep you spread open for him. 

“That’s my girl,” he whispers quietly against your thigh, his plush lips ghosting the inside. He’s left his mic on recording, giving himself the freedom to savor your goosebumps for himself. 

Dr Miller circled around you again, viewing your exposed chest. Your nipples were stiff, and he makes note about how erect they’d become since starting your test. He presses his mouth there, his fingers dancing south to come in contact with your drooping pussy. He’s got a little cup underneath your butt, to capture any of your juices that might leak from his ministrations. For extra (taste) testing in the future.

With his mouth on your breast and three fingers rubbing your clit in clockwise motion, Joel suckles and fingers you with deadly precision.

 “Trying to make the patient—“ his tongue circles over your nipple thrice before nipping at your nipple, sucking it to a point—“reach climax.” 

He spanks your pussy, rewarding himself with a quiver from your body. “That’s it babygirl, you feel that?” He slaps it again, your body jolting, but his teeth sink further into the flesh of your boob to keep your chest in place.

He removes his hand entirely, focusing solely on sucking your tits. There’s a little device wedged inside you, not unlike the bullet vibrator, but this one can sense contractions. It connects to a monitor across the room, recording the pulses inside your pussy.

“That’s it—I see it—she’s working up to it—“ he sucks harder on your tits, swallowing his own saliva, eyes desperately strained to see your cunt reflected back on him on the TV and the matching pulses growing next to it.

The lines reach their heightened point, and your body wreathes appropriately as you cum. Your poor little cunny, contracting around nothing as you orgasm from his tongue on your breasts alone. 

“I want to see if I can just—“ he slips his hand back down to your pussy, diving three fingers in at once and rapidly squelching upward towards that gummy part inside. 

Suddenly, you let out an audible yelp, knees folding inward as liquid gushes from your opening. 

“Oohhhh yes, that’s a good girl, that���s a good girl!” He praises, smirking as you continue to squirt all over his palm and splash onto the floor. The fucking cup wouldn’t capture all of it, an he’d have to really clean up. But he wasn’t expecting such promising results. 

“She’s well hydrated for sure.”

By the way you shake your head, eyes starting to peep over, it doesn’t seem like you knew you could squirt either.

“Shhhh,” he hums, putting his palm over your eyes to block the light. “Rest now, you’re in good hands. Do you want to keep sleeping?” He glances over at the IV bag, already dripping another extra droplet into your system. “You’re so warm and safe here. Let’s rest a little more.”

You let out a sigh, eyes closed and nodding slightly before falling to the side, back into a deep state of unconsciousness.

How pathetic you can’t even tell your lower half is soaking wet of your own doing.

He makes his way back to stand between your legs, kicking away the little rolling stool. 

“See how well this pussy takes a real poundin.’” He pumps his shaft along your slick entrance, dabbing it repeatedly and grinning at how wet it sounds. He’d been edging himself this whole time. Not just this evening, but the entire few months he’s been you ever doting, caring, overly invested doctor, waiting to get you right here, spread out for him.

“She’s still so soft, so tight,” he gulps with a pant. Your chest was inflating up and down more quickly, so he knew you could feel something happening. “You’re doin’ great, baby. Just—just a little more—“

He notches the tip along your weeping hole. “She’s so patient for me.” He wonders if you’ll feel this in the morning when you wake.

Sliding in the first inch, Joel opens his jaw in silent prayer, head tilted back towards the ceiling. He pushes in again, feeling the first bit of resistance from your walls. Shit, he knew you were a virgin. You had marked it embarrassingly during one of the first appointments where he intimately needed to know all your sexual activities. You’d admitted having masturbated, which he encouraged as healthy, though the truth was so that he wouldn’t have to try too hard to stretch you out at this exact moment. Luckily he had loosened you up pretty well with his fingers and tongue this good hour, so when the good doctor pulls out then thrusts half his length in one go, you can’t offer any more rebellion to it.

When he finally bottoms out, he lets out a satisfied whimper. His cheek turned upright into a selfish, wicked grin. “Fuck, your pussy looks so good around my cock,” he says loudly, taunting the fact that you couldn’t retort even if you could hear him properly. He hasn’t had any relevant, professional notes to take for a long while now, instead resorting to little ‘fuckfuckfuck’s as he thrusts his hips in and out of your now loosened cunt. 

He reaches for the wand vibrator, switching it on and positioning it right at your clit, against the base of his dick. Its whirs to life, making your whole body contract in on itself.

“Auuggghhhh fuck yeah—fuck that’s it sweet girl—just feel that—feelin’ it so good.” He continues to fuck you open, biting his tongue and watching you shift with each rut into your unconscious body. Your eyelashes flutter, instinct fighting to get you awake. Jesus he wants it—wants you to wake up right fucking now, see what he’s doing to you. The way your eyes would float, confused, coming into focus as the trusted doc is battering your once pure insides in the name of your health. 

You didn’t know he’d already been fired and relocated from 6 different hospitals across the country for this exact reason. Granted, most anyone could report was inappropriate behavior and groping. He’d have his way with girls like you, in this exact position before. If anybody ever fully caught on to this, he’d be strung up in jail by now.

Whines bubble up from your chest as he gropes your tit with one hand, swirling the wand around your nub with the other. It takes a few minutes of on and off before he feels you clenching around him and cumming. Your back arches slightly, gasping through your mouth. He has to steady himself with his hands flat on either side of the observation table, hunched over and ramming into you while you’re still squeezing the fuck out of him. He likes the way your juices splash down his thighs and balls with each puncture. He’s a good doctor though, making sure you wouldn’t bleed or tear throughout this rough ordeal. He’s a proper man when it comes to his practice.

“Shit, shit—babydoll—fuckyeah this pussy—I’m not gonna be able to give this one up--“ He hums to himself, eyes shut.

You barely register the fact that you’re coming to. Your eyes are slitted but the tunnel vision is still so strong. Foggy and muffled, you can feel your body moving but can’t bring your muscles to do anything about it.

“D-J-oel,” you rasp, eyes fluttering close again as you definitely feel something deep within your stomach. You’re still so out of it, half your senses fading and drawing while being stimulated, unable to fully reach your brain. Your body is screaming to wake up though despite the tempting lull back to sleep. So you open your eyes again, rollin them around you. Your vision becomes clearer, still blurring but able to make outlines and lights now. Still in the hospital, still with the bright lights, still with Doctor Miller—

Doctor Miller, standing between your spread, naked legs with his wet, hard and long cock disappearing in and out of you. Doctor Miller, cursing and staring at where your bodies join, oblivious to your aroused state. Doctor Miller, telling you sweet words like how he’s gonna take you home, he’s gonna keep you like this till you’re full of him, then he's really gonna watch you grow, none of it really making coherent sense to you at the moment.

But there is that feeling inside, deep within your core that’s growing. Everything feels so wet and hot at the same time. He’s incessantly rubbing something delicious, electrocuting your nerves to an awakened state so far more than anything else.

You let out a strangled moan, and his head shoots up, watching you roll your neck and look around. Your sounds get louder, jaw flexing to let them loose.

He's been caught, and he doesn’t stop. “Fuck-fuck babygirl that’s it—M’takin real good care of ya—watch…watch me…watch me when ya cum—“ he groans, gripping your hips and slamming into you almost abusively. 

“Ah-ah-ah-ah!” You wail, unable to tear your limited vision away from him as he ruts like a dog in heat, his hips humping your ass. 

He lets out a startled bark, stilling inside you all the way. That makes your eyes fly wide open, more awake now than before as you start to cum around him. You don’t know what’s happening, don’t understand it and yet your body only knows pleasure, and that’s what your brain releases all over your insides and out. He’s so warm inside, filling you with something hot and sticky. 

There’s a thin sheen of sweat on you, and even greater on him. He pulls out, mummuring some  praise at your pearly, pulsing slit. Your heart is pounding, but body exhausted, like you’d been at this for a while now. You can’t move your head, and your eyes feel heavy once again.

“Hey, hey,” he coos softly next to you. He cups your face in his big hands, bringing you to look at him. “Hey there, angel. How we feeling? You did amazing.”

He feels gentle, touching your fuzzy spots all over again like honey. “Mmm,” you nod. 

He smiles, beginning to turn off the monitors and unhook you from the sensors. “Did such a great job for me, never had a patient as good as you.” He kisses your forehead, long and comforting. now with the needle out, you still feel drowsy, but with his reassuring words and touches, you don’t feel the need to get up any time soon.

“Here, drink this—“ he hands you a little platic cup of water with a straw. You take a few sips, suddenly feel a massive, near painful pressure in your throat, like something had been lodged there not long ago. Coughing slightly, you give him back the cup, falling back against the headrest.

“Shhh, it’s okay. No need to fight it. You can keep resting.” He kisses you on the lips, silencing any protest. Your brain still feels so floaty, you don’t even question the way his tongue swipes along your teeth. You don’t care, enjoying the way he’s treating you so well after the procedure. He makes you feel safer than ever.

“Gonna clean you up now. Take you home.”

Of course, you don’t think about it, as he makes you feel so at home now. You quickly fall back asleep. Joel wheels you out of the room, down towards his un-registered truck and into the back where he whisks you away to your very new, very permanent, very secluded "home." 

- - - -

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[marauder-misprint]

would u write abt some angsty (mybe w a happy ending?) w remus, please? if possible maybe smtg like the bet trope, im soo down bad with bet tropes, 😔😔😔 im sorry if its a burden, and thank you for spending ur time reading this

You said "bet trope" and I said bet. So it's more fluff than angst... oops? I'll try to get more angst with Remus soon

Conducive

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

4.7k words

cw: fluff, lil angst,

“Moons, how is it that you’ve never been kissed, yet everyone calls you Casanova?” Sirius asks at dinner in the Great Hall one evening.

Remus raises his eyebrows but doesn’t look away from his plate.

“I respect women?” he offers. 

“We all respect women here. But come on, even Peter’s kissed Mary,” James adds.

Remus looks up at his friends. “I’m here for an education. Dumbledore was kind enough to let me be here; least I can do is focus. You three are distraction enough.”

“I just think you could do with some more… distractions,” Sirius says, waving his fork around as a prop to make his point. 

“If I wanted a female distraction, I’d have no issues obtaining it.”

“No issues, huh?” Peter asks. “Care to prove it?”

Remus shot him a glare. “Did you miss the part where I said if I wanted it?”

“I don’t see how you don’t want it.”

“Wormy’s got a point,” James says.

“Let me rephrase: If I needed a female distraction,” Remus says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sure, I want it from time to time, but if anyone else found out about my furry little secret, I’d be out of here. So I’m making the most of my time.”

“No one is going to find out!” Sirius says. “Have. Some. Fun.”

“You lot found out.”

“We live with you.”

“Still. You don’t think if I got involved with someone that it would take them that long? It was hard enough lying to you. What if I start to actually like someone? It’d be impossible.”

“Then don’t like them. Just get them to like you enough to kiss them and then ditch them,” Sirius suggests, earning himself a glare from Remus.

“That just sounds cruel.”

“More cruel than you denying yourself feminine company?”

“I’m Casanova, remember? I get plenty of company.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I still think you should prove it,” Peter says. “Do what Pads suggested.”

“What?”

“Get a girl.”

“Keep her ‘round long enough to get off and then you jet. Easy ‘nough, yeah?” James clarifies for Remus, given his mildly confused look.

“No,” Remus says firmly. 

“What if we made a bet out of it?” Sirius asks, leaning forward. 

That got Remus’ attention.

“Okay, then what do I get out of it? When I win.” 

“If, and only if, you can get a girlfriend and snog the living daylights out of her, we will… uh… willingly study with you in the library for finals. We’ll be complacent participants, helping you and ourselves. As you try to drag us to do every year,” Sirius says. He pauses as the other two nod. “And if you fail, butterbeers are on you for the rest of the year.”

Remus snorts. “So if I do it, I just get company in the library and you benefit. But if I lose, I’m financially ruined?” 

“More incentive,” Peter retorts. 

“You’re on,” Remus says, offering his hand for Sirius to shake. He does. “If I wasn’t sure I could do it, I’d be asking for better terms.” 

“Wait!” James interrupts with Remus and Sirius still mid-shake. “I feel like we should pick who it has to be. Otherwise you could just ask Marlene to snog you.”

Remus makes a face. “She’s dating Dorcas, you know this.”

“No, no, he has a point,” Peter says. “Either of them would snog you if you said it was for a bet, especially if it means we,” he gestures to him, James and Sirius, “lose said bet.”

“Fine. Pick the girl. For the love of Godric, pick someone single and semi-tolerable.”

The boys scan the hall, not paying attention to house. Their eyes land on you. All three boys seemed to be in agreement before any of them voiced your name. 

“Her,” James says, pointing at you.

You were just as perpetually single as Remus, although he didn’t know what your reason for being so was. It wasn’t like boys never approached you, offering to pay for your drinks at Hogsmeade or to stand by you at the next Quidditch match, but the boys always walked away looking a bit down. You shot them down. Every single one of them.

So in the boys’ attempt to get him to prove his ability to charm a girl, they also wanted to see a miracle. From the grins on their faces, they know it’s going to be impossible.

“So you want my financial ruin?”

“I want either want butterbeer or you to get fucking laid,” Sirius says coolly. “It’s a win-win for me.”

“We said nothing about me getting laid!” Remus exclaims, panicking. “We said kiss, snog, neck, whatever you want to call it. Not laid.”

James laughs, “If you can get a snog out of her, you’re definitely getting laid.”

“I hate that I shook on this already,” Remus groans. He knows he has no way out of this now. 

---

You are blissfully unaware of the bet the Marauders have going. You have no reason to think that you are of any concern to them, besides that Remus now occasionally says hello to you in passing. If anything, it feels like the other three are purposefully avoiding you, not that that matters to you. It’s preferable that way. You had always found Remus to be the most tolerable of them, but that didn’t mean you were friends or spoke to him all that often. Right now, it meant that you said hi back to him.

You are studying in the library when Remus comes up and asks if you’d mind if he shared a table with you. There are other tables available, but you agree. You are struggling with your Transfiguration essay and if it comes to it, you’re almost positive you could ask him for help. Until then, you work near each other in silence. That is, until someone else joins your table. 

Andrew Lark, a boy in your house, sits across from you. 

“You going to Hogsmeade this weekend?” he asks. 

“No,” you say shortly, not looking up from your essay, although you do stop writing. You don’t want to write the wrong thing down because Andrew was talking.

“Do you want to? I’d love to take you.”

“No thank you, Andrew.”

“Come on, love. Let me take you out.”

“I have no desire to go to Hogsmeade this weekend, nor do I want to go out with you.”

“Baby, we’d have-” he starts to say.

“Lark, she said no,” Remus says calmly, having stopped working as soon as Andrew approached the table. 

Andrew shot Remus an annoyed look. “Wasn’t talking to you, Lupin.”

“I know. But you weren’t listening to her.”

“This doesn’t involve you.”

Remus scoffs. “You interrupted my studying by being here. I’d say I’m semi-involved.”

“Then sit elsewhere,” Andrew says, before turning back to you. “Last chance? It’d be more fun than you’re imagining.”

You give Remus a sideways glance. He’s looking at you, waiting for your response as much as Andrew is. 

“Surprise, surprise, Remus is right. I said no.” You give Remus a quick smile before turning back to your essay.

Andrew rolls his eyes and stands up. “Think about it, dove. My offer will always stand.”

Then he walks away. You and Remus both return to your silent working. You feel Remus’ eyes on you every once in a while; you can also tell he’s looking at you from when he pauses his writing, letting his quill just hover above the ink pot longer than a person normally would. 

“So what do you have against Hogsmeade?” he asks after a few minutes. 

You snort. “Oh, nothing really. Andrew’s been asking me to go with him for months and I’d really rather not go with him. Plus, Slughorn’s essay? Haven’t even started that.”

Remus nods with a breath of relief. “Good, I don’t know how anyone can actually not like Hogsmeade.” He pauses. “Would you like company when you work on that essay?”

The question catches you off guard. You look up at him and you’re sure the shock is evident on your face. 

“I, uh, can’t stop anyone from being in the library,” you say, feeling uncertain.

“Well, no,” he chuckles. “But if you’d rather work alone…”

You don’t respond right away; you’re considering it. Remus wasn’t a bother. You didn’t know why he would give up a Hogsmeade trip to be in the library with you though. You knew he usually accompanied his boisterous friends to the village.

“If it’s just you, I suppose company could be nice.” A small smile is playing at your lips in a way Remus has never seen before. “If you’re thinking of bringing the rest of your little gang with you, I’d rather you stay away then.”

Remus chuckles. “Those gits will be off in the village. Possibly pestering Lark.” He sends a wink your way.

You shake your head as you look back down at your essay, but there’s an undeniable smile on your face now. Remus sees it as a success. Maybe with a little persuading from him, the others would let Lark know he needed to back off of you and you’d be free from his pursuits. 

Come Saturday, you and Remus are back at the same table. Except he’s sitting across from you and reading as opposed to working on his own assignments.

Curious, you ask, “Weren’t you assigned this essay too?”

“Finished it.”

“And you don’t have anything else to work on?”

“No. That’s why I’m reading.” He flourishes his book for emphasis.

“So you gave up going to Hogsmeade for…” Your voice lilts like you’re asking a question.

“To keep you company while you work.”

“I work alone all the time. I’m usually more productive that way.”

“Maybe you just haven’t had company conducive to efficiency.”

“Who talks like that?” you laugh. “Company conducive to efficiency.”

Remus smiles at you and sets his book down. “I’m just saying! Some people are more of a distraction while others let you do your thing. James and Sirius? Distractions. Peter… He goes back and forth between the two.”

“And I suppose you’re conducive for them.”

“Most of the time. Others, I’m as bad as they are.”

He picks his book back up to continue reading and you return to your essay. The library is silent except for the scratching of your quill and the occasional turning of pages by Remus. You sneak a few glances at him when you finish a sentence or a paragraph, and you catch yourself full on staring at him when you finish. As you put your work away, you clear your throat to get his attention.

“I suppose you being here was conducive, but I feel bad that you didn’t go to Hogsmeade.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t. Sometimes I need a break from certain people.”

“Then let me make it up to you. Let’s go to Hogsmeade together tomorrow.” You pause and blush at what you just said. “If you want to, of course, and don’t have anything else planned. I just thought that, because you didn’t go today and tomorrow will be less busy since everyone goes today.” You feel yourself rambling which makes you blush harder.

“Yeah, okay. That’d be nice. Meet you in the Great Hall after breakfast? Or lunch? I’m really okay with either.”

“I’m not a morning person,” you say with a chuckle. “We could get lunch in Hogsmeade?”

“Oh, okay. Then meet by the Grand Entrance around noon?”

“Sounds like a plan, Lupin. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As you walk away from him, he can’t help but smile. This was going better than planned. He didn’t have to ask you out; you asked him. And all he had to do was not be forward about it with you. Now, he just had to work up to kissing you, and then snogging. 

You’re more nervous than you expected to be in the morning. You had never been on a date before, and you weren’t even sure if this would count as one. Your roommates were confused as to why you didn’t go to Hogsmeade yesterday with them but were going today.

“It’s just backwards!” one had tried to explain when they heard of your plan. “Everyone goes to Hogsmeade on Saturday and does homework on Sunday!”

“Which leads to Hogsmeade being packed and then the library being packed. It makes sense to go today.”

You purposefully left out that you were meeting Remus and going with him. Just as he hadn’t told his friends that he was making progress with you. For now, until something proper came out of it, this Hogsmeade visit would be something you shared only with each other.

Remus is waiting for you when you finally leave your dorm. The walk to Hogsmeade is quiet. It’s not awkward though. You’re glad he’s not trying to force conversation. You fear that would be more uncomfortable. 

“So where do you want to go first?” you ask as you arrive. 

“I don’t mind as long as we hit up Honeydukes and Three Broomsticks at some point,” he says with a shrug. 

You can’t help but think he looks a bit cute with his hands shoved into his pockets. 

“Start at Three Broomsticks then? Get our lunch and go from there?” you suggest. 

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

As expected, the pub isn’t too busy. You find a table and order food and butterbeers from Rosmerta. Then it’s just the two of you at a table. He asks about your essay that you were working on yesterday and if you think Slughorn will like it. He talks about his own. Conversation covers a lot of school, but then it drifts to your friends and Quidditch. And then to the Marauders and their pranks. Time flies by so quickly. Your plates are emptied quickly and you go through several mugs of butterbeer. You only notice how much time has gone by you glance out the window by chance and the sun is lower in the sky than you had expected.

“Oh! We need to get going if you still want to go to Honeydukes.”

Remus looks to the window and nods. “I didn’t realize the time…”

He waves down Rosmerta and hands her some galleons. You smack his shoulder gently as you exit the pub together. 

“You paid? I was the one who invited you to Hogsmeade. I should’ve paid.”

He rolls his eyes. “Doesn’t the guy on a date though?”

You blush, which in turn causes him to blush. So this was a date. And you had initiated.

“Let me pay for your chocolate at least.”

“Oh, don’t go down that road,” he says with a laugh and a wide smile. “You are underestimating how much chocolate I’ll be getting.”

“Galleons worth?” 

“Galleons worth.”

“Remus Lupin! That cannot be healthy!”

“‘S not my fault my stash gets raided constantly.”

You laugh. The air is light between you. He really does get several galleons worth of chocolate; you thought he was kidding. You insist on paying for part of it. The owners of Honeydukes patiently wait for you to leave the store before locking the door behind you. The sun is set by the time you’re walking back to Hogwarts. The crescent moon is high in the night sky, bathing the path back to school in a pale light.

When you reach the castle, still standing outside, you say, “This was fun. I’m glad I got to go to Hogsmeade.”

“I’m glad I got to go with you.”

You feel your face heat. The romantic in you tells you, no, begs you to kiss his cheek. Tell him he’s why it was so fun. Talking over butterbeers was your favorite way to pass time and you really enjoyed getting to know him better. But you weren’t so bold. 

“Goodnight Remus,” you say before heading inside. 

He stood outside for a few minutes longer. He should have kissed your cheek. He was kicking himself for not doing so. But that might have been too bold and risked scaring you off. It was probably for the best that he didn’t. He needed to work up to it. The boys were waiting for him when he returned to his dorm.

“Where have you been all day?” James asks accusingly as soon as Remus walks through the door.

“None of your business, Mum,” Remus says, tossing the Honeydukes bag on his bed.

“Honeydukes?” Peter asks, sitting up. “You went to Hogsmeade? Just now?”

“You went to Hogsmeade without us?” James asks, putting two and two together. 

“You went yesterday,” Remus reminds him.

“You chose to stay back. Why go today?”

“Because-” he starts to say.

“You’re working on the bet, aren’t you?” Sirius cuts him off. The smile Sirius was sporting said that he knew he was right.

“Yes.”

James and Peter gasp. Sirius grins wider.

“So you going to tell us how it’s going?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Peter asks with a pout forming on his face.

“You’ll just know when I succeed.”

Sirius rolls his eyes and laughs. “Must be going well if you’re still confident you’re going to succeed.”

---

“Andrew, for the love of Merlin, leave me alone,” you complain on your way to class.

Whatever the Marauders did to him at Hogsmeade wasn’t enough. He seemed more urgent than ever to take you on a date, even with you telling him that you weren’t interested in him in the slightest. He stands in the doorway to your class, which he isn’t in.

“Come on, just one date. It’ll be the best one you’ve ever been on!”

Remus looks up from his conversation with the boys at his desk at Andrew’s voice. He hears you groan.

“Let me into my class!”

Remus is there in a moment. 

“Lark, let the lady through,” Remus says firmly.

Andrew spins around in the doorway, still blocking it but now looking at Remus. 

“Little Lupin to the rescue? You fancy her or something?”

“Yeah, a bit,” Remus answers, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “Now let her through. I think she’s made her opinions of you quite clear.”

Andrew glances at you over his shoulder. 

“Hear that, dove? Lupin likes you.”

“I’d hope so. We went on a date.”

Andrew’s arms fall so he’s not blocking the door as well and Remus pulls you through, which makes Andrew stumble slightly out of the way.

“What do you mean you went on a date?” Andrew asks indignantly. “A date? An actual date? With him?”

“That’s what I said. Care to confirm?” you ask, looking up at Remus, who is still holding your arm.

“Yeah. It was quite lovely. She’s quite lovely.” He looks down at you with a soft smile. 

Then without thinking, you lean up and press a chaste kiss to his cheek. Andrew looks ready to scream and a few hollers erupt from behind you. You scan the room for the source. The Marauders. You’re not too surprised at that. Of course Remus’ friends would be watching him as he came to play hero. It’s less than thirty seconds, but by the time you look back over to the door, Andrew has vanished.

“Thanks, Remus,” you breathe.

“Maybe he’ll finally leave you alone, huh?”

“Hope so.”

He walks you to your desk before returning to his own, where James pats him enthusiastically on the back. Throughout the entire lesson, you two are looking over at each other. Most of the time, when one is looking, the other isn’t. You only make eye contact with him once all lesson, which caused both of you to turn a deep shade of crimson. 

By the end of the week, Andrew stops asking you out on the daily and appears to be purposefully avoiding you and Remus. You find ways to spend more time with him, scheduling study time in the library and comparing schedules so that you can walk to your classes together. You even join him and his friends for lunch every few days. They were rather shocked the first time, but quickly turned into a welcoming group. 

It became obvious to those around you that you were seeing Remus. It came as a surprise to many people, including your friends. 

“What do you mean you’re dating Remus Lupin? When do you talk to him?”

“What do you mean you went to Hogsmeade with him? Alone?”

“When did this happen and why didn’t we know about it?”

Excuses of minding your own business and not wanting to count your chickens before they hatched echoed in your dorm. It really had come out of nowhere, but you suppose it was because Remus pursued you in a way that no one else had. He wasn’t putting you on the spot to do the things he wanted and disrupting you when you were clearly busy. He liked to be in your presence and took your opinion into consideration before suggesting things. Even better, he put Andrew Lark in his place. 

You were headed to your usual table to meet Remus for a study session; you refused to call them study dates because you knew your mind would say that you can’t be productive on a date. You laugh at your thoughts: dates are not conducive for studying. You hear Remus’ voice as you walk through the shelves, collecting some books you know you need for your Herbology assignment. You stop mid-step when you hear additional voices at your table.

“Have you snogged her yet, Moony?” Sirius asks.

“No, not yet,” he answers with a sigh. 

Not yet. You smile.

“Well, could you get on with it? You’ve been spending so much time with her. We need you for this prank.”

“You were the one to suggest the bet. Sorry I’m taking my time.”

“But you’re going to break up with her once you do, right?” Peter asks. “Complete the bet and get out before you catch feelings. That was the point of this.”

You bite your lip, hoping that somehow this wasn’t about you, that maybe Remus had a voice twin and they were talking about the other boy’s girl. You knew that it wasn’t possible, but you had to hope for a moment. But then James spoke. 

“Even better, you got Lark off her back so she owes you. She owes you a snog and then you’re free. You’ll have gotten your kiss, Casanova.”

Lark. He had only been after you for a while. And Remus had been the reason he was leaving you alone. 

You leave your hiding place within the books, stepping into their line of sight. Remus’ eyes go wide as he sees you. His heart breaks when he sees the tears in your eyes. You had heard and he knew it. 

You lock eyes with him and you shake your head. Holding the books close to your chest, you turn to leave the library. How could you work with someone who was only with you to snog you for a bet? A damn bet? 

You ignore Remus calling after you. You don’t break into a run; you have too many books in your arms to run, but you’re walking as quickly as you can. From the sound of his footsteps, he is running. Running and calling your name, saying it isn’t what you think. That the boys don’t know what they are talking about. You spin on the spot to glare at him through tears when he finally catches up to you and places a hand on your shoulder. 

“Did you or did you not ask to sit at my table in the library because of, of, of that bet?” you spit. It comes out harsh. It was supposed to. You were angry and upset.

“I did, but-”

“There’s no buts about this, Remus,” you say firmly. You’re firm but your voice is laced with sadness and uncertainty. “All of this was because of a bet. And I’m not a bet. So yeah. Go fuck yourself.”

You leave him standing in the corridor. He could’ve followed you. Some part of him knew he should have so that he could explain. 

---

You avoid Remus at all costs. He tries to hunt you down in the library, in between classes, in the Great Hall. He’s even taken to sitting outside your dorm. Your roommates step around him, muttering insults. He doesn’t blame them. If it had been anyone else doing this, he would be saying the same insults under his breath to Sirius, James and Peter. He hated himself for agreeing to the stupid bet in the first place. He should have just gone after you on his own terms. 

About a week later, you spent all day studying in the library and you were honestly surprised that Remus didn’t show up once. You missed dinner, but you didn’t mind. If you had gone to dinner, you might have run into Remus and if you were safe in the library, you were staying there until you went to bed. Except you ran into Remus while trying to go to bed. He was asleep outside your dorm’s door. You knew you should’ve just gone into your dorm and ignored him, but you were a good person and wouldn’t let him sleep like that all night. You nudge his side gently with your foot.

“Lupin,” you say softly. “Lupin, wake up.”

He stirs, rubbing his eyes. When he sees that you’re the one who woke up and not some disgruntled prefect, he jumps to his feet and hugs you. You make a startled noise at the hug.

“Please, let me explain,” he whispers.

“You have five minutes. Then I’m going to bed.”

“Okay, thank you,” he says quickly. “Thank you. Okay, so yes, it did start as a bet.”

You groan and reach for the doorknob. He puts his hand on top of yours to stop it from turning. 

“I have four minutes and thirty seconds,” he says, causing you to roll your eyes. “A bet that I couldn’t get a girl and snog her. I accepted because Sirius was being rude. Stupid, I know. But please, please, please believe me when I say the bet stopped being relevant the moment you agreed that I could keep you company in the library while you worked on your Potions essay. I wasn’t doing it just to snog you and prove to the boys that I really could get a girl.”

“And I should believe you because?”

“Because if it was just for a bet, I would’ve kissed you when we got back from Hogsmeade the first time. I would’ve snogged you in front of Andrew and the boys. Just to prove that I could do it. I would’ve been done.” He pauses, trying to read the expression on your face. “I’ve been spending so much time with you because I genuinely like you so much. I like being your boyfriend. I like being around you. I like making you smile. I like making you laugh. Yes, I’d like to snog you very much. But not for a bet. I want to snog you to feel your lips against mine. I like studying with you, I like paying for your butterbeers. I like walking around with you. I like when you hang out with my friends. I’d like to hang out with your friends.” 

He pauses his ramblings to catch his breath briefly.

“That is, if you’ll forgive me for even partaking in this stupid goddamn bet. And you somehow convince your friends to forgive me too.”

You cross your arms and lean against the doorframe. You take in Remus’ appearance. You’re used to him looking perpetually tired, but he looks exhausted, so much worse for wear than usual. His hair is a mess and clothes uncharacteristically rumpled. His expression is so genuine and sad, practically begging you to understand how much he cares for you.  

“Please. I know you’re more than a bet. So much more. The only good thing about the bet is that it actually got me to get close to you.”

“I’ll forgive you under one condition,” you say.

His face lights up and he takes a step toward you. 

“Anything. You name it and it’s done.”

You smirk. “When you do snog me, please do it in front of Lark. A little revenge on that sorry bastard.”

Remus smiles widely and nods. Then he places a gentle kiss on your lips. It only lasts a second, over as soon as it began. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He gives you an identical kiss. “One snog in front of Lark coming up.”

[chrissturnsfav]

rapper!chris putting singer!reader moans in his songs

⋆.˚✮ rapper!chris puts an erotic twist into one of his tracks

you're sat in the dimly lit studio, the faint smell of weed and a hint of cologne lingering in the air.

chris is next to you at the mixing console, a pair of headphones draped casually around his neck with a joint between his fingers. he has his signature grin on his lips, the one that’s equal parts mischievous and confident. he looks excited, but you're not sure what's got him all riled up.

“i got sum'n f'you,” he says, his voice brimming with excitement.

you raise an eyebrow at him. “what’s that look for?” you tease, a smirk on your lips.

he hums, prodding his tongue at the inside of his cheek, swiveling around to face the console, “you’ll see.”

chris hits play, and the track begins. the bassline is smooth, the beat infectious, and his flow—well, it’s chris, so it’s good. really good.

the lyrics are a bit erotic, though it's nothing you haven't heard chris rap about before. but this is different, it's more intimate, more descriptive, more sexy.

you’re nodding along, letting yourself get lost in the rhythm. then, about halfway through, something catches your attention. chris is watching you, the same half excited half playful smirk on his lips as he takes a drag from the joint.

you lean forward, your ears straining. no fucking way...

the song continues, and there’s no mistaking it now. layered into the beat, perfectly timed with the drops and rhythm, are soft, intimate moans—your moans.

your jaw drops, and for a second, you can’t process what you’re hearing.

“chris!” you yell, eyes wide as you whip your head toward him, a grin of disbelief on your mouth.

he’s already laughing, leaning back in his chair like he’s been waiting for this exact reaction. “y'like it?” he says between chuckles, his wicked grin spreading even wider as he exhales a cloud of smoke.

“there's no fucking way,” you manage to choke out, half mortified, half trying not to laugh yourself.

“you put my moans in a song?! when did you even—how did you—?” your voice trails off, your mind a whirlwind of confused thoughts and questions.

“last week when we fucked in'ere, y'don't remember, ma?” he asks, shrugging like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

you groan, covering your face in your hands as you lean forward in your chair. you're still in disbelief, but part of you thinks this is definitely something chris would do.

he's snickering beside you, "oh, my bad...forgot y'were too busy ridin' me, guess y'didn't notice i started recordin'," he jokes cockily, almost as if he's taunting you, his voice a bit muffled by the joint between his lips as he takes another drag.

you can’t help the giggle that escapes. “chris, you’re insane. my mom listens to your music!”

he leans closer, his expression softening slightly as he tries to reassure you with a hand on your knee. “relax, ma. nobody’s gonna know s'you, people put moans in songs all the time. besides,” he adds, flashing that signature smirk again, “y'sound so pretty.”

you pick your face up, cheeks slightly rosy as you flash him a mocking glare. “you’re unbelievable," you chuckle.

“admit it,” he says as he passes you the joint, “s'kinda fire.”

you shake your head, still laughing as you accept the joint. “yeah, yeah, it’s fire. but if my mom finds out, you’re explaining this one.”

chris rolls his eyes, “aight, whatever,” he chuckles, scrunching his face up when you playfully blow the smoke in his face, his hand swatting the cloud away. “yo, chill wit' that before i tell your mom who's moans these are,” he smirks evilly.

you groan, leaning back in your chair with a frown at him, taking another rip from the joint, but this time exhaling the smoke to the side.

chris' smirk grows, snickering under his breath as he swivels his chair to face the console again, “yeah, that's what i thought.”

divider creds: @kyejiz

thank you for reading! <3

@chrissturnsfav ™

[nychthemeron-rants]

(Doing this in a reboot because its too long for a comment)

Okay, I’m actually really excited to answer this as I have been reading Omegaverse fanfiction since the fanfiction.net days (2014~ish) and have written an Omegaverse fic myself. The fandom that personally introduced me to Omegaverse was Supernatural but it in no way invented the trope (to my knowledge), Supernatural was simply the first fandom I looked up fanfiction for as a 13 year old.

One trend I’ve noticed develop in that time is that a lot more fics explore the world building and dynamics of Omegaverse without the non-con elements that were nearly unavoidable back when I first found the trope. Hell, even though Omegaverse has 100% started as kink thing, I’ve actually found some fics that don’t have any sex in it at all.

What drew me to Omegaverse and keeps me interested in it is the inherent queer and trans themes. As someone who is not a woman, but is very feminine and would like to have biological children someday and is comfortable with the anatomy they were born with I find the Omega archetype comforting, as it normalizes, in a way, seeing people who are not women fill roles that are usually reserved for women in a non-judgemental way that doesn’t cause anyone to question their gender identity. Fics that also have Alpha women do the same thing for women who fill roles traditionally reserved for men, though this is more rare. Especially as a young teenager, just entering puberty and being very confused about their identity, I was utterly fascinated by this world in which queer couples were the norm and gender roles weren’t determined by the sexes that exist in real life, but by a fantasy sex that seemed much more determined by personality than physiology.

This is also my favorite thing about Omegaverse, the ability to play around with expected gender norms and find comfort in an inherently queer and trans world.

As for aspects I avoid or am critical of, that would be the non-con elements that were really popular in earlier fics, the inclusion of underage characters, and the treatment of women in far too many Omegaverse fics. A lot of fics, especially early on, focused a lot on heat and rut rendering those experiencing it completely mindless and feral, which often led to non consensual situations. I remember when I first started reading Omegaverse, I was too scared to tell my friends because it was pretty much synonymous with non-con and it was extremely difficult to find fics that only showed consensual situations. It’s gotten a lot better, and I know when I wrote my Omegaverse fic, I made a point to explicitly display consent being given and that all participants were of clear mind when giving consent.

When it comes to underage characters, I’ve noticed a lot of fics where characters under 18 are presenting as Alphas or Omegas and going into their first heat or rut, and that’s something I am very uncomfortable with. Personally, I much prefer when fics have characters present in college or older so no one underage even has a dynamic as dynamic do still carry that sexual connotation.

As for the treatment of women in Omegaverse, a lot of fics either act as though women don’t exist at all or are only betas or omegas which makes me highly uncomfortable. Any trope that only lets men take center stage and just pushes all women off to the side is questionable at best. Especially when its a world based on the bending and blurring of gender norms and social expectations.

What I would want the non-Omegaverse reading public to know is mostly to just be aware of which aspects you mock and call cringe when so much of it is based in queer and trans experience. Especially stop making fun of male pregnancy because men getting pregnant is a thing that happens in real life. Men and nonbinary people who have uteruses do sometimes decide to use them and its really discomforting when people act as though the very concept of anyone but a woman getting pregnant is some weird cringy thing like heat or scent marking when men and nonbinary people with uteruses are really starting families and living normal lives while carrying pregnancies.

Omegaverse readers & writers!! I want to hear from you!!!

Firstly — Yes — I have already done a lot of research. I don’t need the basics explained to me or the fact that it is an incredibly diverse genre with examples good writing, bad writing, good social commentary, bad social commentary, expansive thoughtful worldbulding, raunchy porn without plot, and everything in between.

What I’m looking for with this post is personal experiences and opinions from people who read/ write this content since I am not one. Feel free to link any fics that exemplify what you’re talking about.

you can write as much or as little as you like, answer as many or as few of the questions as you like:

What fandom introduced you to omegaverse?

What trends and developments have you noticed as the genre has grown over the past 14-ish years?

what initially intrigued you about it?

Are there similar genres, tropes, etc, that you also enjoy? (ie. werewolf or other supernatural romance, science fiction which explores alternative biology) basically, how does omegaverse fit into your wider literary tastes?

what do enjoy most about it?

what are some elements you avoid or are critical of?

Any specifics or nuances you want the non-omegaverse reading public to know about

In case anyone is coming across this post without knowing who i am — Hi! I’m a youtuber and I make videos about online subculture, fandom, and such.

Your comment on this post may be read aloud in an upcoming video!! Please specify if you would like me to censor your url or leave it visible.

[luvmahae]

masterlist — previous— next!

neotopia, here we come!

the evening air is crisp, and the night sky is lined up with stars as you and your housemates make your way towards campus. you can hear the music growing louder with each step—laughter, music, the steady beat of anticipation.

neotopia is one of those annual events at ncu that everyone looks forward to. it's the one day in the middle of the fall semester when the campus comes alive with music, lights, and surprises. 

for you, this event holds a special place in your heart because it’s where you met your best friends.

the streets are lined up with students, all heading in the same direction, buzzing with excitement about the surprise headliner: calvin harris.

“honestly… how did ncu manage to get him to play at neotopia?” chenle mutters, his voice laced with disbelief as he glances at the massive crowds heading towards campus. 

ningning shrugs, a mischievous grin on her face as she walks with a little extra pep in her step. "the school probably offered him a shitton of money," she casually remarks, her gaze fixed forward.

“i mean it’s not every day you get to bring in someone like him.”

the vibe is lighthearted, carefree, and infectious as your group walks together with different-flavored seltzers and beer in hand. your shoes tap against the pavement, the subtle breeze hitting your arms as you take another sip from your beer can. 

everyone in the group is buzzing with excitement, both the pregame drinks and the beer giving you the right amount of warmth. you can tell that renjun, karina, and ningning are already hyped, while chenle’s wide grin makes it clear he’s ready to have fun tonight.

you all toss your empty cans into a nearby trash can with a few playful cheers, making sure to dispose of them before heading toward the entrance.

as you walk, the sudden vibration from the back pocket of your jeans pulls you out of the lively chatter around you. you reach for your phone, unlocking it with quick fingers, and your heart skips a beat when you see a text from haechan.

haechan: i’ll see u later ;)

… seriously? with a frustrated exhale, you slip the phone back into your pocket, trying to push away the knot in your stomach. 

when you reach the edge of campus, the sound of the music becomes a wave crashing around you. the many students at ncu are already gathered, many of them laughing and waving to friends across the field.

oh, how you missed this place. 

“there they are!” renjun points toward the boys standing near the entrance, and you can’t help but smile as you spot them in the sea of people.

you wave excitedly, pushing through the crowd with him, the buzz of the festival growing louder as you approach them. mark spots you first and grins, offering you a fist bump as soon as you reach him. 

“you made it!”

“of course we did,” chenle responds with a smug smirk, stepping forward. “neotopia wouldn’t be the same without us.”

the group laughs, and for a moment, everything feels perfect. the crowd, the music, the laughter—it all fades away as you settle into the rhythm of the night surrounded by friends.

still, your mind drifts back to the unanswered text from haechan. 

i never texted him back.

you quickly grab your phone, fingers moving as you type out a simple, “wya???” before hitting send.

you glance at the screen, but no new messages have come in. you push the thought away and turn your focus back to the group. the fun is already starting, and you can’t let yourself get bogged down by him. not today! nope!

karina scrolls through her phone, she suddenly nudges you, a glint of amusement in her eyes. 

"hey, check this out.”

you glance at it and see a post from julie, one of the pledges from yeri’s sorority, delta pi gamma. 

neotopia hits different! 📸 @haechnlee

your gaze shifts down to haechan’s reply beneath the tweet. your breath catches in your throat as you read the exchange.

the whole thing stirs something in your chest, a combination of confusion and something sharper you can’t name.

karina watches you closely, the light from the phone casting shadows on her face. she must sense the shift in your mood because her voice softens, the teasing edge gone.

“you good?”

“yeah… just thinking.”

she doesn’t press any further, but you can tell she’s still paying attention. with a gentle nudge, she starts pulling you into the crowd, where the music is louder and the night feels alive. but as the lights flash and the energy swells around you, that knot in your stomach doesn’t seem to fade.

hours pass, and the energy only grows stronger. the music pulses, the lights flash, and everyone dances together, the beat running through your body like a second heartbeat. you throw yourself into the music, the rhythm helping you forget the constant ache that’s been growing inside you since you saw that post. 

for a while, it works. you’re lost in the moment, surrounded by your friends and the guys, laughing and dancing.

but then you glance to your right, and you freeze.

haechan is there. 

he’s laughing, talking to julie, completely absorbed in her company. she’s looking at him like she’s the only one in the world, and he’s doing the same. the way they’re interacting, the way he’s leaning toward her, makes your heart drop. 

it’s a simple, innocent thing—a conversation, nothing more—but the way your stomach twists, the ache in your chest, is anything but simple.

you can’t seem to look away, even though you know you should. it’s hard to ignore how natural he looks with her, how comfortable he is. you feel… what? jealous? hurt? confused?

and right next to him, jaemin is surrounded by a group of girls, all of them fawning over him, their attention completely on him.

you feel foolish for just standing there. you should be focused on the festival, on the music, on the friends who are right there with you, but all you can think about is haechan, laughing with julie. 

the night blurs into a dizzying haze of flashing lights and pounding bass. you try to dance, to laugh, to focus on the fun, but it’s like something is lodged in your chest, making every movement feel a little too heavy. 

the ache doesn’t go away. it stays, hanging over you like a shadow.

“i’ll be right back.”

eventually, you can’t take it anymore. 

you slip away from the crowd, your steps are mechanical as you move toward the edge of the field. 

you need space. a moment alone, far enough from the chaos.

♪ if i told you, that this couldn't get better baby and your heartbeat, it lets me know you feel the same

the crowd and the noise fade as you step into the quiet, the isolation settling over you like a blanket.

but then you hear it.

“hey.”

you freeze. you turn, and there he is. 

haechan. 

standing a few feet away, that smirk of his already in place, as if he hasn’t just made you feel like a complete fool. 

“there you are. i told you i’d see you later—”

you swallow hard, your throat tight. you want to ask him why he didn’t reply, why was he with julie, why does he keep doing this to you.

instead, you force yourself to take a deep breath and meet his gaze. 

“goodnight, haechan.”

you don’t wait for his response. you turn on your heel and walk away, pushing through the crowd, the noise of the festival fading as you move further away. 

you can hear that one specific song cutting through the air, the lyrics echoing in your mind like a cruel reminder.

♪ i'll be thinking about you

wc: 1.3k!

notes: it just had to be done besties... 😢 crying... anyways i know there is like a 1% calvin harris will perform at ur school but lets just imagine... pls listen to thinking about you while u read this!!

taglist: @4amirwin @wonbin-truther @hearts4hee @jungaji @sundamariis @urlovelily @n0hyuck @dudekiss3r @injunnie-lemon @luvvhaechan @douqhnxtss @tynlvr @jaehyunando @haesluvr @hcluvie @pinknjm @nanaxwi @catpjimin @slayhaechan @awktwurtle @myfavoritedelusion @stqrgr7 @t-102 @jianreadsaus @haechanhues @gomdoleemyson @hyuckmoon @haechology @mystverse @hyuckies18 @sunflowerbebe07 @jae-n0 @onlyforyoukook @yizhrt @gwookie @zzzmrk @kukkurookkoo @nightcat101 @tinyelfperson @haefelt @haechsworld @tenjyucat @worldwidecutiemaya @sunghoonsgfreal @snoopyjimin @ypoom151999 @meowtella @honeynanamin @haechanmybaechan @nctrawberries

[icallhimjoey]

Almost, Always

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: Happy endings aren't for everyone, so it seems, but that doesn't mean that you can't stop trying for one. Question is, are you actually star-crossed lovers that can figure something out, or just absolutely blind to reality and really fucking stupid?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, smut, cheating

Author’s note: i want to thank @lfdybadgirlsdiw again, bc she sent in a small request that mentioned 'former lovers that keep going back to each other, even if they are seeing other people' which then sparked this whole story into existence 🖤 i also want to sincerely apologise to all the girls that have reached out and taught me that none of us lead unique lives (which in this case is terrible, but also, really comforting) thank you for reading! i hope you enjoy this last part, and i'd love to hear your thoughts!

Wordcount: 7.2K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

The world felt muted. Dull, and empty. Deeply hollow, and completely void of colour.

There was only so much shit a person could take before enough was enough, and finally, after accepting the bare minimum from Joe for far too long, you decided you no longer wanted it.

The sky hung heavy, and the beginnings of what would eventually feel like an endless winter promised to keep the mood low and bleak for the rest of the season. There was an under-skin discomfort only the passing of time was going to be able to shed.

You broke up with Joe.

It fucking sucked. There was confusion, and deep hurt. Anger. Defeat.

And yet, you felt weirdly proud of yourself.

“It’d be better for you to leave him.” Emily had told you time and time again. Finally, you’d listened. You knew she was going to be so proud, which gave a small sense of relief.

Everything else felt bleak, though. Like time had stopped on the moment of impact. Hands of the clock frozen in time, forever showing the point at which it truly landed for Joe.

Joe hadn’t felt like this for a long time. Didn’t know if he had ever felt like this before, if he was honest. There was a difficulty in processing the shock, in accepting there was even a shock to begin with, but he knew you were right. It was why he couldn’t stop saying it.

“Don’t feel bad, you’re right. You’re right.”

It felt wrong to be right, and you didn’t want to be right ever again if this is what it’d be like.

The little sliver of pride inside of you wasn’t getting the attention it deserved in the moment, but that was okay. You’d get to it later. And maybe, one day, Joe would too.

“Will you,” Joe broke the silence, voice hoarse and throat in pain. He cleared it, which didn’t help much, and hopefully finished, “Will you stay the night?”

You’d been sat in the quiet dark for quite a while, just listening to each other breathe. It started with Joe perched on the very edge of his sofa, leg shaking as he tried to come to terms with what you were saying.

You’d sat down next to him then, and he’d immediately pulled you close, hands gripping and trying their best to hold onto whatever there was for him to hold onto still.

Just was a shame there wasn’t much left for him to grasp.

“I don’t think I should.”

You wanted to.

Badly.

But you genuinely didn’t think that would be a good idea.

You felt how Joe shifted a little, arms moving to wrap you up differently from how they had been. He was unsure of how to hold you, but tried his best to find a way that made you want to stay.

“Yea. No… you’re right. You probably shouldn’t…”

If you weren’t absolutely determined, the soft brokenness of Joe’s voice would’ve made you give in instantly.

“But will you?” Joe tried again.

“Joe…”

“I know, I know, please, don’t…” Joe faltered. There were a lot of things Joe didn’t want you to do. Please don’t say it. Please don’t repeat yourself.

Please don’t leave.

There was a stillness that had taken over the room - the world - when Joe realised that you weren’t joking. A stillness where even the wind outside hesitated to stir. You weren’t saying shit just to get a reaction out of him. You weren’t trying to get him to say words you wanted him to say. You’d been serious from the second you’d walked into Joe’s flat, and Joe felt stupid how he had just… immediately dismissed you. How he hadn’t even really listened as you spoke to him.

It had been a few days since you’d seen each other, and you’d secretly been collecting and saving bravery. You’d avoided Joe for a few days whilst you kept busy, storing all the courage you could find in a secret spot inside of your body, waiting for it to be enough to drive you into just fucking saying it already.

Joe hadn’t questioned the stupid excuses you’d come up with to not see him a couple of nights in a row. Hadn’t questioned it at all, didn’t seem to really care about it either, which only added to your valour. To the ‘he doesn’t even give a shit’ narrative that you needed to believe with your full heart, because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t have decided to spontaneously text him, “on my way over” before flying out the door.

If you could stop your hands from shaking, that’d be great, but you were going to do this. You were going to ride this wave of determination, without or with a shaking body.

When you stepped into Joe’s flat, sick with nerves and heavy tension, Joe was hunched over a messy open drawer of a side cupboard.

“Have you seen my earphones? Wired ones?” he rummaged through with both hands.

No hi. No hello. No I’ve not seen you in days, come here, let me kiss you silly.

Have you seen my earphones.

The real important stuff.

“My wireless ones, the left bud has stopped charging itself…”

And you knew exactly where Joe’s wired earphones were.

For a second, you debated giving in. Debated using this as your out. Debated smiling, rolling your eyes all fondly, being the helpful girl Joe needed in this moment. It was tempting to forcibly forget about the one sentence you’d repeated inside of your mind over and over and over again since you’d walked out your door.

Fingers rubbed over the hems of your sleeves as you stood in the doorway still, and you felt where you’d rubbed literal holes into the fabric. 

“Pay a fucking fortune for nice ones and still, it’s the same bullshit, nice or not, it’s…” Joe finally turned his head to look at you when you remained silent. He watched you for a second before he stood up straight.

“Hey… you okay?” he frowned, hands fiddling with whatever junk he’d found instead of what he was looking for.

“I don’t… I don’t think I’m very happy anymore…”

There.

The words were out.

You’d said them, and even though you’d expected the world to maybe crack open and for everything to immediately go to absolute shit... nothing happened.

But you’d said the words, and the tiniest littlest speck of gratification popped up inside of your chest.

You had to actively remember how to breathe, but if you’d leave right now, at least you had said those words.

“All right,” Joe frowned a little, and cast his eyes back down to whatever his hands were doing. “What needs changing then? You can turn the heating up, if you want.”

Joe’s casual dismissal felt sharp as a blade, severing any hope of fixing this. Of saving it. It was completely mismatched to how tense you felt.

“No, I’m not…” you felt your knees shake as Joe continued rummaging. Suddenly, you were way more nervous to say those exact same words once again. “I’m not happy. Anymore.” You had to swallow straight after, mouth dry, tongue thick.

“All right,” Joe made an annoyed face at a random electrical wire he found, and continued, “So what needs changing then?”

His slight annoyance fed everything bad inside. Joe was unknowingly coaxing you into the exact right headspace for what needed doing.

“This.”

Joe still wasn’t looking at you.

“This what?”

Part of you wanted to show your frustration. The anger. Wanted to clench your fists and exhale roughly through flared nostrils to show him, to make him see. You wish you wanted to raise your voice and fight. But the unrelenting defeat of the moment rooted itself deeper inside of your body. The lack of care coming from Joe, the attention he wasn’t giving you, the dismissal of what you’d just told him, because his wired earphones were obviously so much more important than you were... it all combined into nothing more than a simple shrug.

You remained calm, protectively flat, and just… shrugged.

“This.”

You repeated yourself once more, and when Joe didn’t even seem to properly hear you, you looked at the open door that lead to the hallway which had his bedroom at the end of it.

You knew where Joe’s wired earphones were.

What followed were slow and measured footsteps that carried you over into Joe’s bedroom where you found the wired earphones in one of his bedside tables before you slowly made your way back over to him.

With a soft hand, you reached for one of his and held it in yours, palm up, to place the earphones into.

“Oh! Where did you find–”

“I think I need to stop thinking that things are going to ever be different…”

You looked Joe in the eye, and it was like he only then noticed what he was looking at. Like the earphones being found closed a chapter, and now there was attention for you and, oh, you didn’t look very happy.

“It’s never going to be different… is it?”

You looked very sad, actually.

Sort of drained of life.

Really tired.

“Hey, are you all right?” Joe discarded his earphones to the side and grabbed hold of one of your elbows, pulling you a little closer.

“Things aren’t going to ever be different, are they?”

You saw how Joe copied the knit of your eyebrows, face going from a little confused to very suddenly filled with deep worry.

“Wait, what do you mean?”

“Like, with us. This.” You stepped back, just slightly, creating distance.

“Are you… are you being serious right now?” And Joe stepped forward, moving right along with you to close that distance again.

“I think...” you sighed, eyes closed but back straight and chin up. Strong. “I think I need a change.”

“Baby… a change like what? What are you talking about?”

One of Joe’s hands cupped your cheek, thumb pushing underneath your jaw, taking the weight of your whole head as he tipped your head just right for eye-contact.

“Joe, I’m not… this isn’t what I want.”

“Me?”

No.

“Us.”

“Oh…”

Joe’s eyes moved between yours, searching for the slightest little bit of softness you still had for him.

He found it easily.

“I’m sorry.”

But he hadn’t expected the compassion there to be sympathy and pity for the situation you were placing Joe into.

At first, there’d been a surge of angry confusion. Of Joe stepping back and jokingly accusing you of being daft. Of telling you that your heart had frozen over because he probably hadn’t turned the heating up high enough. He asked if you’d eaten. If maybe you’d been drinking. Anything to make sense of what was going on, of why you’d walked into his flat on a random evening to tell him things he didn’t want to hear.

Then, there’d been yelling. Hurried large steps got paced around his living room, his arms flying about in unrestrained wild gestures. “You keep referring to past mistakes! You always say you forgive and forget, but you’re not forgetting shit!”, “Have you been hanging out– did you just come straight over from Emily? Has she been planting shit into your brain that you– you can’t actually be fucking serious right now!”, “God, this is so fucking annoying! You’re being annoying!”, “Are you sure this is what you want to do? The worst. Just the fucking worst!”. Joe’s voice went up as he screamed, cracking when he got too passionate, and you wished that had been new information to you.

Eventually, there’d been a weird composed faux acceptance that felt like a manipulative tranquility that Joe adapted to simply show you that you didn’t actually want what you were asking for. A childish, ‘Fine, I’ll give you what you want, see how it sucks?!’ just to prove to you that you were wrong.

When you didn’t budge, and it all finally really landed, everything changed.

Joe turned soft.

Went from frantic movements to suddenly sighing the deepest sigh he’d ever sighed to slowly making his way over to you, hesitating slightly when moving in to hug you, but then going for a full both-arm-tight-wrap-up when you didn’t flinch away.

After about a minute of tightly embracing, you heard Joe sniff close to your ear, and you realised he was crying.

“Joe, I’m sorry, I–”

“No, no.” Joe pulled back, used his sleeve to quickly wipe at his face before going, “No, look at me. Look. You’re right. I’m the one- no, look. I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m sorry. Don’t– you’re right, you’re…” Joe moved both his hands into his hair, a flash of panic, and had to take a few steps as he inhaled deeply.

“You’re not annoying.”

You saw how his jaw clenched. How he rapidly blinked to keep further tears at bay.

“I don’t know why…” Joe started, sitting down on the edge of his sofa as he rubbed a hand across his face. “It just… it never even occurred to me that you had the option to… to go anywhere. But you’re right.”

You didn’t care about being right. It didn’t feel nice to be right about something so devastating.

Looking at Joe, broken boy unsure of where to steer his thoughts and his emotions, you knew this wasn’t what you wanted. This wasn’t what you’d envisioned for the both of you. But, to be fair, almost nothing about what you’d become together had come about because you’d envisioned it that way.

You moved to sit down next to Joe and got immediately taken a hold of.

“Will you stay the night?”

“I don’t think I should.”

“Yea. No… you’re right. You probably shouldn’t... but, will you?”

“Joe…” you couldn’t tell him you would. Couldn’t reply with the ‘I will’ he wanted from you.

“I know, I know, please... don’t…”

If you weren’t going to stay the night, at least Joe would have this. Long quiet minutes, sat on his sofa together. Touching. Staring into nothingness. The longer he could keep you there, the better.

He found new ways to hug.

Different ways to hold.

Arms moved, swiped, squeezed and felt, mapping your every inch in a desperate bid to remember.

Joe took hold of the back of your neck in the exact way he knew you liked, thumb pressing into the dip at the base of your skull, rubbing small circles there.

And you gave him that.

Gave him this moment, frozen in time, just before you’d eventually walk out without plans of ever returning.

“You do know,” Joe started off, voice barely there in a whisper, words pressed into the skin just behind your ear. “You know that I really do love you, don’t you?”

And the world shattered.

The first real and sincere I love you that you’d ever gotten from him.

That wasn’t meant to hurt like it did.

“You know that right?”

All you could do was give a small nod that Joe felt with his face as you fought with all of your being to not burst into tears.

“I love you.”

The cruelest goodbye present you hadn’t asked for, thrusted into your lap at the worst possible time, and you had no other choice than to just simply accept it.

“Yea... love you, too.”

You can see him in the reflection of the window that the treadmills are aimed at, leisurely strolling into your line of sight. Towel over his shoulder, wearing his grey hoodie, wired earphones already in his ears, and eyes on his phone as he seems to sort through a playlist.

It’s been a day.

One single day.

One day since you’d woken up on his sofa.

One day since you’d said yes to a morning coffee that you probably shouldn’t have said yes to.

One day since you’d called the guy in your flat and had to explain why you’d left him in your bed on his own in the middle of the night.

One day since Joe sat across the table from you, coffee in hand, and listened to you stutter through vague excuses.

One day since you’d groaned at yourself for being so fucking stupid, and asked Joe, “What the fuck are we doing...”

One day since he’d shrugged and regretfully told you he wished he had an answer to that question.

To all of your questions, for that matter.

Joe showing up to your gym isn’t coincidental. It simply can’t be. It makes no sense for Joe to go to the gym that’s right around the corner from your flat.

There’s also no way he hasn’t seen you.

There’s not a chance he doesn’t know you’re here.

This is what Joe does, what he did just a short while ago, and he goes about it in almost the exact same way.

His slow pace gives him away.

The fact that he stops just as he has passed you, giving the free treadmill next to yours a quick glance as if he’s only just decided, yea I can do a bit of cardio here, why not, gives him away.

The moment his fucking awful purple pumas touch the machine next to you, you stop looking at him in the reflection. Eyes straight ahead. You keep them firmly trained on yourself instead, and keep a steady pace.

Yea. You hate the gym.

But you’re here to work out, and work out only.

Not to socialise.

Not to potentially run into someone.

Not to prove to someone, to anyone, that you’re a person that goes to the gym now.

No.

You’re there to work out. Guilt has been slowly eating at you until the anxiety of it all, the extreme criticism aimed at yourself, became too much and physical exercise seemed like the only healthy way out.

The only healthy way through.

You’re working out to feel better about yourself, about the choices that you’ve made, and you fucking hate every single second of it. But, you’re only about halfway through what you’d set out to do, and the plan is to fucking finish it. To do the full routine, no ifs ands or buts.

From your peripheral vision, you can see how Joe turns the machine on and how he throws the screen of yours an obvious glance.

Then, he sets the speed to just a little faster than yours.

Idiot.

For a little while it’s easy to ignore him. Makes sense, since you’ve gotten a lot of practice over the years. You could look right through him if you wanted to, face blank, eyes all hollow. Sometimes that was just what he deserved, and you remember how it always felt shockingly good to push his buttons by simply pretending he wasn’t there.

You’re an expert in driving this man insane.

But driving him insane isn’t the end goal here – instead it’s trying to hold yourself together, to harden yourself just enough, to not let him drive you insane.

So you ignore him.

Focus on your breathing. The whirring of the treadmill. The miles you’ve already run. How may more you have to go. Your own heartrate. The position of your feet.

Left. Right. Left. Right.

Breathe in, in.

Breathe out, out.

God, you fucking hate running, but there’s something that itches you about the fact that Joe put the speed of his treadmill a half mile per hour faster than yours.

And it’s not a fair race – which is what this fucking is now: a race – because he’s just wandered in and you’ve been going for a while already.

But maybe that’s actually good.

This guy’s not warmed up. Just got on the treadmill and started bolting.

Idiot.

It doesn’t take long for Joe’s breathing to pick up. For it to become audible to you, and you know he’s not going to be able to keep this up much longer. 

Just when you think Joe’s going to reach over and lower the speed of his treadmill, you decide to double down on this inevitable win and press the plus button twice.

Twice.

And fuck, you immediately regret it. The burn in your legs is merciless. An unforgiving persistent ache, yet the burn in your lungs is worse.

In, in. Out, out. In, in. Out, out.

Some of the sweat that’s dripping down your face gets stopped by your eyebrows, yet some also gets past and goes straight into your eyes, but fuck off, you’re winning.

You can do this.

You can pretend you just wanted to run extra fast for a minute. Maybe two.

Four minutes.

You manage four minutes before your start getting scared your legs are going to turn into actual jelly. For fear of tripping over your own feet and launching yourself backwards across the gym floor, you have to slow it down.

The second you do, Joe does as well.

It feels like your lungs have forgotten how to absorb oxygen, but you’re walking, and it’s fine. You did slow down your treadmill before Joe did, but you ran faster than him and, all together, ran for much longer, so it’s a win.

You’ve won.

You’ll die on this hill– you won and Joe lost and he is a loser.

There’s another moment where you can see Joe glance over, and even though you’re both at a walking pace, he still goes to adjust his speed so it’s higher than yours. Then, he removes his earphones.

Time to acknowledge his presence.

“You don’t go to this gym.” You manage to say before Joe gets a chance to get a word in.

Shit, you’re panting.

“I don’t?” But so is Joe. “Weird place for me to be then.”

You give him a look.

“Why are you here?”

Joe pulls a face he always pulls when he’s about to make a joke. It’s a stern face that’s hiding a smile so well, it just looks like he’s a frowning asshole.

“Hmm. Why... am I here?” he repeats seriously, pensive, like the answer escapes him. Then he looks around and uses an arm to showcase the gym he’s in, like it’s obvious he’s there to work out. It makes you feel like he’s making fun of you, which immediately stirs up animosity inside you.

“Well,” you start collecting your things. Towel, water bottle, phone. “Good luck. Get swole, or whatever.”

And you’re off.

“I’ll see you for a coffee, after!” Joe calls after you, and when you turn your head, you see him smirk as he wipes his towel across his forehead.

“No thanks!” you make yourself sound as polite and upbeat as you can whilst turning him down.

Joe watches you walk away, past some of the rowing machines, and he sees how other guys glance a look at you.

He doesn’t blame them.

If he’s honest, he doesn’t really know what he’s doing here, just that he wants to be near you. If that means going over to yours unannounced just to see you cross the street and enter the gym, rushing back home to get his own kit and making his way back over to get a guest pass, and then super casually accidentally ending up on a treadmill next to you, well, then... that’s what he’ll do.

Joe doesn’t know what he’s doing.

What you’re doing.

Why he’s been excited every time he’s seen you over the past couple of months. Why he’s been sad every time you parted ways again.

He doesn’t know why you keep coming back after you ended it all, but what he does know is that it must mean that it’s not over.

Not fully.

There’s a door there, still open enough for him to squeeze through, and yesterday, he realised he would actually rather hurt himself whilst struggling to get through your door, than pick any of the other doors that girls are holding wide open for him.

Joe watches you make your way over to the weight machines and you decide to pretend Joe’s not really there. Decide to pretend that there’s not something dangerously delightful about seeing Joe all sweaty and out of breath.

You get on with your work out routine.

Do the leg press for a bit. Some leg curls. Some extensions.

Nothing for the arms.

You have no upper body strength, and Joe’s watching. You’re very much doing your best to pretend he’s not there, but, you still find yourself secretly checking if you’re being watched.

And you are.

You ignore the furious blush on your cheeks and tell yourself it’s just because your exercising. The heat you feel in your face is just there because you’re moving. S’got nothing to do with Joe, who’s in your peripheral vision the whole time.

He’s strategically moving across the gym floor, standing in front of mirrors that reflect the best views of you, and yea, sure, he’s holding weights in both his hands, but he’s not really doing much, is he? He’ll curl an arm up every couple of seconds, but there’s barely any effort there.

Which makes sense.

Joe’s busy watching.

He’s watching you work out as discretely as he can.

He knows you’re aware of it too. Knows you’re following his whereabouts. Sees you check over your shoulder a little more often than seems normal to check your surroundings. Knows you’re having the absolute worst time because you hate physical exercise like this, but he watches as you power through.

Watches as you seem to finish up.

Watches you leave for the changing rooms, and he quickly does the same. Drops the weights he was still holding right where he’s standing and rushes to get his things because he wants to be ready and waiting by the door when you walk out.

You’re faster than expected.

Joe’s only just left the men’s changing rooms, zipping up his jacket, when he sees you emerge from the women’s.

You see him too.

Of course you do.

But you look right past him as you leave the building, and Joe has to scramble to get the door before it smacks him in the face as he follows you out.

“That was a quick shower.” Joe muses, following your tail.

“I shower at home.” You simply answer, looking for traffic both ways.

“Yea? Can’t tempt you into getting a quick coffee together somewhere?”

Joe dashes after you as you cross the street and comes to walk next to you.

“I’ve got coffee at home.” You dismiss him, but Joe hasn’t given up half his morning for you to suddenly use your sound, responsible mind. Not after yesterday.

“Oh, great. Even better.”

For whatever reason, even after all the interactions you’ve had with Joe post break-up, this feels like the first time it means something. Maybe it’s because it’s been a literal single day since you woke up next to him on his sofa, or maybe it’s because it was a little difficult to look at yourself in the mirror after.

You stop walking abruptly and it takes Joe two whole steps to realise you’re no longer next to him.

“What are you...” you falter, brow furrowed as you look at him.

“Doing?” Joe finishes for you, then shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m doing what we do– what we have been doing.”

He says it so plainly, like there’s not a million things wrong with that. Like he hadn’t invited you over to stay the night at his flat when there was a whole other person in his bed, likely wondering why the fuck she woke up on her own, just like the guy you’d left in yours.

You’re terrible people, and what Joe is meant to do, is self-loathe in his own time until the feeling has faded enough for a new bout of dumb decisions. You know, like you’re doing.

“You can’t just–...”

“Can’t what?”

Your eyes fall to Joe’s stupid trainers, his faded ugly purple pumas, and you hate how you like that he wore them.

This is never going to be over, is it?

You know with every fibre of your being that you shouldn’t.

But, fuck.

You want to.

You really, really want to.

“Don’t you feel bad?” you ask, hoping that at least Joe will confirm that you’re not overreacting.

You should feel bad.

The both of you.

There’s the slightest moment of introspection from Joe that you see across his face before he smiles at your rosy cheeks and goes, “I do. But not... not about this. What does it matter if I want to go and have a drink with you? Hmm? Who cares about that?”

Well.

Probably that girl that slammed the door of his flat yesterday. And, you also kind of hope that he cares, but it’s difficult to sort through and articulate your thoughts and feelings about that in the moment.

“Do you feel bad?” Joe asks, a hand reaching over to touch you on the arm.

“I feel terrible...” you admit on a heavy exhale. You also feel sweaty and sticky and gross.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yea, well... you should be. Because it’s your fault,” you show the slightest of smiles and fall back into step. “And because your shoes are ugly.”

Joe watches you walk away for a bit, trying to wrap his head around it. Around you. Finds that he was right before: he just wants to be near you, still.

He just wants to be near you always, actually.

He’s lucky you’ve got the same issue.

It’s why you let Joe into your flat.

Why the first thing you do when you get in is make Joe a coffee since he was so adamant about having some.

When he sees that you’re not making yourself a cup, he goes and does it for you. Makes you the perfect cup of coffee, exactly how you like it, and you have to really hide how giddy that makes you feel. Can’t give away how that means something to you. So instead, you make him laugh when, in lieu of sugar, you slide a salt shaker across the table, just because you think Joe needs to know that he’s welcome here, but that he’s not really... welcome here.

“You’re so annoying, my God.” Joe shakes his head, fondness practically dripping from the words as he smiles. He’ll make you a million more cups of coffee if it means you’ll make him laugh like that.

In turn, you laugh at jokes Joe makes about you going for your shower, telling you that you must be exhausted and he’ll gladly help out and hold you up. You know, no big deal, even though he remembers that your shower is small and barely fits two people in.

“We’ll just have to stand really close together.” you quip, joining the bit.

“It will be so awkward for me, but I’ll self-sacrfice, not a problem.”

You laugh together, and Joe drinks the coffee you made for him, and you drink the coffee that he made for you. There’s a moment of silence before you semi-seriously say, “I’m really not meant to have you over.”

It’s complicated. It’s fine, but it’s not.

“Yea... you probably shouldn’t. You’re right.” Joe flirts. “You’re right.”

“I don’t know what I was expecting though...” you sigh, leaning back in your seat. “We’re not to be trusted, I don’t think...”

Joe eyes you for a short moment, then leans forward a little and carefully says, “You’re allowed to set your expectations aside every once in a while, you know... we can just enjoy our time. Nothing wrong with that.”

You can’t help but smile, because the sentiment is sweet, but unfortunately, it doesn’t really work like that. Before you know it, you’ll be back right where you were before, kicking yourself over placing yourself back in that same crappy situation.

A grimacing discontented nose-scrunch does all the talking for you.

“All right,” Joe says on the back-end of a sigh, slapping both legs as he gets up, already heading towards the door. “I know when I’m not wanted.”

You put an arm out and get a handful of his sleeve before he gets even close to leaving, and Joe turns his head to grin at you like you’d played directly into his trap.

Which, you probably just had done.

Had been doing.

“Oh?” Joe startles playfully. “Am I wanted, then?”

The handful of shirt gets pulled into your direction until Joe’s standing really close, and you have to tip your head back all the way to look up at him.

“Do you want to hear me say that I want you?” you challenge his neediness as one of his hands finds your cheek. You know exactly that’s what he wants to hear.

“Is that hard for you?” he challenges your obduracy right back, thumb softly rubbing the skin under your eye, knowing full well how hard of a time you have with sharing your feelings in the moment.

It’ll never be lost on you how there’s so little you can hide from one another. It’s comforting in the most perilous of ways.

It helps that Joe is very upfront about his wants. He’s in your living room for a reason, which makes it a little easier to admit to a truth you can no longer deny.

You wouldn’t have invited him over if you didn’t want him here.

Obviously.

It’s a big ask to set expectations aside in the long-term, but in the short-term, temptation and comfort always seem to win all too easily. Hence the handfull of fabric you’re still holding.

That doesn’t meant that Joe deserves the satisfaction of hearing you say that, though.

“No.” you smile, eyes casting downwards. “But… do you want to know what is hard for me?”

Without any hesitation, you let your hand find the bulge in his jeans, and Joe flinches at the contact, his other hand immediately around your wrist to control your next move, grip tight, like he’s using it to not lose his balance.

“Don’t.”

With his eyes shut, he exhales a slow breath.

“Oh?” your eyebrows shoot up in the same way his had done earlier. “Am I wrong, then?”

Joe has to bite back a smile, and there’s a moment where you’re just staring each other down, your hand touching growing parts of Joe, and his hand keeping it right in place. It’s hard for him to look away from your eyes and the sparkle they look at him with.

It’s a big ask to set expectations aside... when you haven’t really got any to begin with.

Joe’s voice comes out a little gruff when he says, “How about that shower?” all lowly, giving a slight nod up in question as he bites into his bottom lip.

The only way out seems through.

But, just before you give in all over again, something pipes up in your mind that turns you solemn. Something Joe said the night before.

“You um...” you swallow thickly and slowly remove your hand from Joe’s jeans. “You said we weren’t the best, before...”

This dance between heartfelt earnestness and teasing banter is becoming a little confusing, but, to be fair, everything about you and Joe is confusing.

Joe’s hand on your cheek is warm, and you let the words you’d just said linger. Let them speak for themselves. You haven’t asked Joe a question that needs an answer, but you wait for him to figure out what you mean all by himself.

Why should you go have a shower with Joe if he doesn’t think you’re good together? If things can’t be better than before?

“Before...” Joe repeats and then slowly lowers himself next to your chair and leans on a knee so he’s more at eye-level with you. He’s choked with tenderness for you, especially when you look like this, not unlike what you looked like when you barged into his flat a night ago. “Before, yea. But that was–...”

Then.

This is now.

Joe’s hand is still on your face, his steady touch unmoving, but now his fingers curl under your jaw and around your ear, and it burns your skin. You want to allow yourself to enjoy the gentle touch, but you can’t. Shouldn’t. Your wants are too risky.

Anxiety swells and you can feel how your fingers are searching out a bit of fabric to run along, but you’re not wearing long sleeves. It’s why your next question comes out all choppy.

“Will it b-be different?”

Your question implies a whole lot. Implies a want for something new. For something better. Something different. And, perhaps most terrifyingly, it implies a want for something together.

You think if Joe is going to be completely honest with you, he should tell you no. However, logically, you also understand there’s a current heavy throbbing in his underwear that might influence things slightly.

Still.

You want to hear his answer.

Want to know what he’s really doing here.

What his expectations are.

Joe can’t predict the future. But you desperately want him to.

“It can be.”

Instant disappointment.

In Joe, and within yourself.

It can be.

It’s the most non-committal answer Joe could’ve given. It’s guarded. Evasive. Without clear indication or attitude of feeling.

You hate it.

But then you watch as he slowly grabs hold of one of your hands and guides it to the sleeve hem of the hoodie he is wearing where your fingers immediately find home and rub to their hearts content. It’s embarrassing how your shoulders instantly relax.

Joe clears his throat, cradling your face in both of his hands now, and adds, “It should be.” which he makes sound like a promise.

It should be.

It should be because you are both older and wiser and have learnt lessons and have grown. It should be because you are new people, with old habits but with new intentions.

It should be because you really want it to be.

It should be because Joe is really going to try.

That’s all you want.

All you need.

It should be makes you whine and drop your head fully into Joe’s hold.

It should be has you accept Joe’s lips that press firmly against yours.

It should be allows you to be picked up and lead over to your bathroom where you both undress at lightning speed.

It should be has you under the stream before the water’s even fully warmed up, standing really close together, and not just because the shower’s small.

Emily’s absolutely going to kill you.

But she’s allowed.

She can murder both you and Joe together, and you’ll continue doing what you’re doing right now in whatever the afterlife even is until the end of time itself.

Time can stop, for all you care.

Joe touches you in the shower until your legs can quite literally no longer carry you, and then Joe touches you in your bed until every single cell of your body is violently shaking in pure delight.

It should be different.

It will be different.

And different starts right fucking now.

“I love you.”

Joe pants the words heavily into your skin. Into your neck, your collarbone, your shoulder. Wants them to settle there and never leave. He seals them in with kisses, and repeats mumbling praise that he hopes will cling onto you for a while as well.

You’re convinced he’s just saying things because it feels right in the moment. Because he wants to prove to you that he’s right.

You lay together, bodies on top of each other, and it takes longer than feels normal to come back down from what you’ve just done. Joe holds you in place on top of him, both his hands wrapped around your arms, and when you try to move, when you try to let yourself slide off and fall onto the mattress next to him, he only further strengthens his grip.

“I love you.” He then says more clearly, and he sounds like he’s admitting it to himself just as much as he is to you. Like it’s something that he needs to hear himself articulate more than it’s something that you might need to hear.

It’s unbelievable that he’s here, right now.

He fully thought you’d be done with him by now, yet, here you are, wanting more of him. Different. Yes. But more all the same.

“Love you, love you, love you.” Joe punctuates with kisses.

Joe finds that he’s still as full of emotion for you as he was when you were still together, but there’s a huge difference in voicing it. In saying things aloud for other people to hear.

For you to hear.

“Yea,” you smile, tickled by the tone of Joe’s repeated confession, convinced you’ve pulled the words straight from his dick. “Yea you do.”

There’s no way Joe is thinking with his brain right now.

A soft scoff comes from him before he tries his best to sound like a schoolteacher as he demands, “Say it back.”

You huff a laugh to that, still feeling a little floaty and too far gone for a coherent response. All you can think about is how Joe’s still inside of you, and how he is keeping you there.

Then one of his hands lets you go, but is quickly followed by a well-aimed poke to your side that has you squirming. Joe remembers all your vulnerable spots, knows exactly where they are, fucking dick.

“Say it back! Say, I love you too, Joe.”

In your giggling, you manage to sit up a little and glare down at Joe, but you’re smiling, which completely ruins the effect, and it turns him a little soft inside. You then lean back down a little and give him a peck by his ear which serves to shut Joe up.

He decides it’s enough of an answer, close enough to an I love you said in return. He knows you do, anyway.

In your next move, you snuggle into him, cheek rubbing into his skin, and, fuck, Joe’s done for.

“Yea… yea, you love me too.”

“Shut up.” You whisper, giggles stuck in the back of your throat that you try your best to contain, ones that Joe lets out easily.

“Too bad you’re so annoying.”

“Yea.” You squeeze Joe tighter and let your teeth scrape the skin of his chest. “I’m the worst.”

There’s no phone buzzing on the bedroom floor.

There’s no other people hiding in a different room in your flat.

No... Jessicas, or whatever. No Jaspers.

You’re in the centre of your bed together, no sides picked or chosen, and the temperature inside reflects neither icy Antarctica nor the Amazon rainforest.

It should be different.

Better.

It already is.

Are you risking making the same mistakes all over again? Yes. Are you willing to still go ahead and give this a try? Also yes.

“Will you stay?” Joe quietly asks, silently and warily bringing up how vulnerable he felt when you broke it all off months ago.

You move your head to look him in the eye for a second.

“I should.” you whisper back, reassuring you in same way Joe had reassured you.

“Will you stay?” you repeat Joe’s question, but know what he’s going to say before he even opens his mouth.

One of his hands snakes around to hold you by the back of your neck.

“I will.”

the end

---

The Taglisted

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taglist currently full, apologies!

[jjscrybaby]

prompt 19: ‘here’s my number.’

jj maybank x fem!reader | fluff | (reader has hair, no use of y/n, first meeting.)

not proofread and also not my best, i’m trying to get back into the hang of writing so i figured that maybe if i start posting my stuff it could give me the motivation again. hope you enjoy! :)

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

JJ was sure he knew everyone that lived on the island. Whether they were a Pogue or a Kook, 9 times out of 10 he’d heard of them. Whether it was because there had been a scandal about Mr Anderson cheating on his wife with his secretary, or Mimsy hooking up with Topper Thornton at the most recent kegger, he’d heard of them.

So, when he checked over the itinerary for the delivery’s he was doing for Heyward he knew exactly who lived in the house he was heading to. An older couple, been on the island since they were kids, rich but not overly snobby. He walked up the driveway and knocked on the door, expecting the elder woman to open it since her husband’s recently broken his ankle. He had to do a double take when the wooden door was pulled open and the girl that stood there was anything but an old lady.

You were beautiful, hair tied up in a ponytail and pretty eyes that stared back at him. You looked a little tired, sporting a tee and baggy shorts that he assumed still costed more than his rent based on the logo.

“Hello?” Your sweet voice brought him out of his thoughts, mouth parted as he just stared at you.

“Oh, uh, sorry. Maybe I have the wrong house?” He looked around in confusion. The number was right, but last he checked there wasn’t a beautiful girl living in this house.

“Who are you looking for?” You questioned. He said your grandparents last name, making you nod. “You’ve got the right house.”

He just nodded slowly, handing you the two bags of groceries. They always ordered an absurd amount of bread. “Right. I didn’t realise they had a roommate.”

You giggled at his words, putting the plastic bags down — Kiara wouldn’t be happy — and grabbed your handbag from the side to get out your purse. “I’m their granddaughter.”

“Ohhh.” That made more sense. They didn’t seem the type to look on Craigslist for someone in need of a home. You held a twenty out to him. “Uh, it’s already paid for.”

“A tip,” you explained, nudging your hand closer to him. “Can’t be enjoyable walking around in this heat with all those heavy bags.”

“This is my last stop,” he shrugged, still not accepting the money. He wasn’t sure why, normally he’d be grabbing at it with greedy hands; maybe even trying to talk you into giving him more. Thats what he did with all of Heyward’s other customers.

“Just take the money,” you laughed.

“Twenty’s a bit much,” he argued, tapping his foot against the stone floor.

You hummed, giving him a look he couldn’t read. “Then how about you help me carry my last box upstairs. That mixed in with the delivery seems to add up to twenty.”

If any other Kook asked him to do such a thing he’d say no. He’d probably piss on their plants just for good measure. But you were something else, your little smile did something to him that he refused to acknowledge.

“Sure,” he agreed, stepping into the house. He rubbed his shoes against the mat, not wanting to trail dirt on the white carpet.

“Thanks. My back is killing me,” you complained, leading him further into the house where only a few boxes were left.

He read over them. Clothes. Blankets. Teddies. His face scrunched up in confusion. “Are you movin’ in?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Did you need anything? Some water or coffee or something?”

“Water, please.” He followed you into the kitchen, it was bigger than his entire shack. He leant against the counter, watching you reach up to the glass cupboard. “Where are you from?”

“Uh… all over really. My parents never enjoyed sticking to one place. I’ve been travelling for the last year. I was gonna go home, but after finding out my grandad’s getting more clumsy and my nan can’t take care of him herself I figured I could come help,” you explained, filling his glass with water and ice.

“That’s nice of you,” he murmured. He hadn’t seen either sets of his grandparents since he was a baby. His mom’s parents didn’t reach out whatsoever, not since she dipped, and his dads sent him a birthday card with a twenty each year. If they needed help, he’d probably pretend he didn’t see the message.

You just shrugged, taking your hair out of the pony just to re-do it. “They’re the reason I could afford, like, everything. Plus, I’m expecting some good karma.”

“Good karma?” He chuckled, accepting the cool glass from your hand. “Is that a real thing?”

“Who knows. But if it is, I want it,” you smirked. “So, you’re a delivery boy?”

He shook his head, putting the glass down on the marble counter. “Nah. I’m a busboy at the club, but my friend’s dad does the deliveries and I needed some extra cash.”

“Makes sense,” you murmured. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen,” he responded. He crossed his fingers that you were the same age, you looked young, but for all he knows you could be thirty and just really hot for your age.

“Me too,” you grinned. He smiled back toothily.

“Cool. So, uh, the boxes?” He asked.

For the next half an hour, he helped you carry up boxes. Your room was on the third floor, in the attic technically. It was bare, just a bed and a closet with a bathroom connected. He couldn’t blame you though, you had just moved in.

Once you were done, you walked him to your front door and held out the twenty again.

“Nah,” he murmured, waving you off.

Your face fell. “What?”

“I don’t need it.”

“You just helped me out for the money, so take the money,” you argued. “I should probably give you more than twenty.”

“How ‘bout this… you could thank me in another way,” he suggested.

“Like what?” Your eyebrows furrowed, head tilting as you looked up at him.

“Could let me take you to dinner sometimes,” he shrugged nonchalantly, although on the inside he felt like he was going to burst.

Your eyes widened in surprise, staring at him for a moment before a soft smile appeared on your lips. “Yeah. That seems fair.”

“Cool,” he grinned. “You got a pen?”

“Sure.” You walked a bit further inside the house, opening up a draw and handing a pen to him. He took it from you and pulled out an old receipt for gas from his pocket. He scribbled over it, a cheesy smile on his face as he handed it back to you.

“Here’s my number, I’m expectin’ a call,” he stated, giving you a wink.

You laughed, pocketing the receipt. “You’ll get one.”

“Cool. Uh, see you soon then,” he said, walking out the front door with a pleased look on his face.

You watched after him, waving as you closed the door. You definitely hadn’t moved to Outerbanks to find a man, but you definitely weren’t going to complain. You pulled out the receipt and giggled at what was sprawled on it. Below his phone number was a little note.

Call this number. You’ll have no regrets ;) - JJ

[monamipencil]

hello, i have come here to once again cry abt this fic.

first of all, mia tysm for letting me beta read!!

and second of all. your brain?? the talent to come up with a plot like this and be able to pull it off??? omg. i have never been so excited to reread a fic like this ever. that's the grip this story had on me

ngl, rereading the fic felt like i was in a buzzfeed unsolved true crime video lmao. i was analysing every bits and pieces. 😌 im simply such a fan of mia's works

also, annotations below!! (SPOILERS AHEAD!)

(ps, the annotations are very sarcastic at some places lmao. seeing everything in a diff light was very enlightening ngl. and how tf did i miss so many forebodings???)

Joshua turned his attention to what he liked to call his ‘murder board’. Wrong choice of name yes, but someone once told him that positive manifestation was a real thing. Maybe if he kept calling it a ‘murder board’ for long enough, one day he’d finally find himself climbing the ranks, handling real murder cases. 

very nice choice of words. (just realised what this meant, im shook🧍‍♀️)

What bothered Joshua the most was that he had spent five years in the field, aced every exam, and most importantly, the sergeant position had been vacant for two months How could he ever climb the ranks with these six cases making him look like an undeserving amateur?

how pitiable … wow im so sad for him 😞

If only they walked into the station, looking for him.  And then, you did. 

girl—🧍‍♀️sighs i feel like an overzealous grandma watching this all unfold again

When you finally met his eyes, Joshua softened his expression, silently urging you to speak.

… speak girl, speak. i am SO done lmao

Joshua blinked in disbelief, then scoffed softly. “Spirits?” He repeated, incredulous. “You’re saying ghosts are following you?”

hmmm… i wonder who told her to 

He had to engage you till he had help, he had to play his cards right. 

this sentence sounds so different now … 

Looking around the room at nothing in particular you began mumbling something. Slowly, one after the other, you started dropping names as though you were repeating after an invisible, unheard voice. 

yk if i was her, i’d be so embarrassed or start laughing bcuz lmao what??? home girl doing all this for love

This couldn’t just be a coincidence right? 

oh no why would it be a coincidence, josh?? 

Some of them looked terrified, constantly looking around, some looked at him plain confused like they still hadn’t put the pieces together. 

he rly played all of them so well

“She came to me, the case is mine,” Joshua looked at her pointedly. “So I call the shots.” 

ofc he’s dealing with the only skeptic like this

Turning to you, he pulled your chair closer. “Show me.” His voice was low, urgent. “Right now.”

he can be a good actor, oscar award winning actor joshua.

Something about you unsettled him, though he couldn’t put his finger on it. His eyes found their way to you, running all over your features, lingering longer than they should have. 

omg what a cute couple ?!?!? 🙂

“I believe every man should have some bad habit.” Joshua chuckled, offering a small smile. “Keeps him grounded.” 

uhuh …. I see. of course, smoking is the only bad habit you have

You hummed, looking far off at the quiet darkness of the town. “I don't know if this is bad but, I tend to go to any lengths to help the people I love.” 

down bad means being 6ft underground for her. Nothing like digging your own grave ofc

Joshua’s lips pressed together. His gaze flicked to you, considering your words. “Must be why the spirits chose to talk to you,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “Maybe they knew you’d help no matter what.”

le sigh yep, definitely. Soo true 

“Not now, tomorrow morning.” He glanced at your eager expression, hands itching to tuck that tiny strand of hair behind your ear. “It's late now, you should head home.” 

i used to ship you both… oh my god, this is annoying me. HE PROLLY DOESN’T EVEN MEAN HALF THE THINGS HE SAYS

Maybe you were never really terrified. Either way, the unsettling shift in your demeanor troubled his mind. 

ohh is it troubling you officer josh???

Or were you the trouble that was looming around the corner?

… bro oh my god, just. le sigh x2

Each one had been attacked from behind - either struck on the head, run over by a car, strangled from behind or shoved off a building. It was always from the back, perfectly concealing their perpetrators face, keeping that identity a mystery.  

god this makes me sick knowing the truth

All ten of them had died on their birthday and not just that - all of their birthdays fell on the 30th of the month.

his bday falls on 30th too…

Perhaps it was because he knew the moment he revealed this discovery, all eyes would turn to one person—You.

i wonder why it would turn to her

“Ji Ho, just because the two of us were once a thing and it didn’t work out-” 

damn, this is how he was riling her up and making her think he’s innocent too

You turned to him, curious. “Did you find any of the killers?” 

the fact that she doesn’t actually know the truth kills me

“I won’t be surprised.” You pursed your lips. “I’ve never really liked the number 30 either. It’s like a deadline... something always looming, reminding you of the things you haven’t done. The things you can’t undo.”

i am very curious on why she said this.. particular thing??

Joshua nodded. Exactly. It was easy. Which meant it couldn’t have been you, could it? You wouldn’t have committed those crimes and then set up a trap for yourself would you? That made no sense. 

oh who could’ve done it?? (quoting shane madej, 2016)

And it was evident you liked him too.

it is very evident, trust me

Except there was only one tiny thing between the two of you - you might be a potential murderer and Joshua might have to implicate you for your crimes. Which is why none of this could be true. You could not be the killer. 

yes ofc

“But you could have helped the killer.” Minho shrugged. “The sentence for an accomplice to murder is less severe Miss Y/n, if you admit to it, we can help you-” 

🧍‍♀️so many foreshadowings but i never saw it coming at all

Joshua took a step back, mind running through the possibilities. About who might have such a motive, who might have manipulated the evidence…..

who could’ve done this pt.2

The suffocation her competitiveness brought forth was what stifled their bond - Joshua couldn’t live with it any longer. 

now i dont trust these words either–i wonder if there was actually any fault on her or if it’s his twisted feelings

“I know you Josh, I know something is wrong. Your judgement has been clouded for days, you’re not thinking straight. But I am.”

… something is wrong

“The people at the store confirmed that a few weeks back she had run in, scared and shaking, claiming she was followed. The neighbours also said that she had approached them for help a few times but they didn't see anyone.” 

miss girl is down bad, ain’t no way im doing all this for some guy i love

“Joshua….” You looked up at him, eyes widening. For the first time in days, you saw something other than apology in his eyes. You clung to that look, hoping it meant he was still on your side. Ji Ho followed him, walking into the room right behind, earning a small frown from you. 

did i mention that she was down bad??? and she’s jealous. honestly, i feel bad for her

“You'll be fine.” He held onto you tighter. “I'm not going to let anything happen to you.” 

the manipulation is crazy

“You can also think of it as an early birthday present from me.” 

yeah, exactly what he wanted

Joshua glanced at the calendar, the black rimmed circle placed over 29th December. His birthday was tomorrow. 

it should’ve been a red flag from the first. why was he not worried abt himself in the first place??

Something about your words stung Joshua differently. Indeed, the perpetrator should be punished, but for that, it was necessary to find the real culprit. A tiny voice in his head was making him doubt his choice. 

…

It didn’t feel like an intimate gesture, more like a goodbye, a farewell to something unspoken.

…. 

It smelled faintly of lavender, mixed with a subtle undertone of something he couldn’t quite place.

im also curious abt what’s this smell??

your eyes searching his face as if reading something he didn’t want you to see.

…

"Did I play my part well, Shua?" At last, at fucking last, Joshua allowed the mask to crack, a small, victorious smile dancing on his face. 

i was so fucking shocked the first time i read this, almost lost my damn mind

Dragging his hand down from your cheek, he wrapped it around your throat, pulling you closer,

listen-im just a girl 🎀

But before you could, hand on your head, he pushed you down, forcing you onto your knees. 

cough cough i-uhm, one chance pls josh—*alarms blaring*

He had supposedly solved all six of those never ending missing cases, he had secured his promotion and no one even found out that he was the real killer. 

mia, your brain never fails to amaze me. Just how do u come up with these plots??

Knowing what he was going to do next, you obediently stilled as he held your face with both his hands and, god did he fuck it like there was no tomorrow. 

He wasn’t trying to trap you, no no, you were his favourite doll - he just needed to somehow introduce the twin twist, his most brilliant plot point. 

smthn is wrong with me, why do i like this

“Happy birthday Shua.” Cocking his head at you, Joshua returned your smile.  “Happy birthday to you too sweetheart.”

and this ??? my god, your thinking >>>

About how you hated your sister, how you were the one the Mayor wanted to adopt but she had locked you in the storeroom while she took your place and left to live a life full of luxuries. 

i still don’t feel bad for her, she had it coming

Joshua's joy knew no bounds when he discovered the tumultuous relationship between you sisters. Oh this could be his most elaborate scheme yet, so many birds to hit with one stone. But the first and most important thing he needed for that was for you to be irrevocably in love with him. 

what a fucking psycho

Surprisingly, that was the easiest part. All it took was some praise, some attention and a few sessions of love making - within a month, you were ready to do or die for him. 

grrr, he’s so manipulative 

That was his final victim of the year - another death on the 30th, another death on their birthday. 

jeez, such a sicko

She had white hair, her back was bent weirdly, there was a burn mark on her hand….. Ye Soon. 

twist after twist, just how do u do this, mia?!!?

Outside, the loud sirens of the ambulance heading towards the precinct resounded in the otherwise quiet town. It seems the story of the Calendar Killer had finally come to an end.

the perfect end to the most perfect story

all this for a promotion and a paycheck.... damn. honestly understandable. have your paycheck and ticket out of this town boy. no one's blaming you 🙂

and the fact at the end, it's her who is facing the consequences of his actions. and i actually shipped them both in the beginning 🧍‍♀️... even fictional men are betraying wtf??

and also insane choice of member. joshua suits this role so perfectly!! im telling you mia, your such a talented writer. you pulled this off so flawlessly and this was not predictable at all. kudos to you <33

Calendar Killer (HJS)

Was it really love if it didn't include just a little madness? What was love if it didn't cross the line? And how was it love if it didn't care whether it was the red of love and the red of blood?

Pairing - Afab!reader x Detective! Hong Jisoo (Joshua)

Word count - 14K (we are back to Mia's inability to be concise)

Genre - Psych thriller, smut (18+), supernatural elements hinted, warnings under the cut!

A/n - This is the last installment of my 95s psych thriller Halloween series - I know its late but I just wanted to finish up what I committed to. Also, this is the wildest thing I have ever written, I'm not kidding, buckle up! I do suggest reading Jeonghan's and Cheol's before reading this though - the plots aren't connected, its just, they may feel a little underwhelming after this one.....I truly went all out

Thank you to Lola ❤️ @monamipencil, the love of my life for beta reading this and filling our chat with 'oh my god's and frantic comments - I'm a lot more pleased with this piece now hehe

Warnings - Please note that this fic is dark, not morally appropriate at all and as psychotic as it gets. With that being said, let's goooo - people missing, mentions of deaths, bodies, murders, serial killer, mentions of stalking, choking, blowjobs, throat fucking, hair pulling, cum in mouth, masturbation, manhandling, unprotected sex, rough sex, marking, slight dubcon, creampie, psycho thoughts and behaviour

The station buzzed with the oppressive hum of a fluorescent light, flickering occasionally. The air was thick with the musty scent of old paper, the subtle clicking of the typewriter and cold winds blowing in through the open door.

“Great job today boss.” 

Joshua looked up from the paperwork strewn across his desk at Minho standing by the coffee machine, a mug in hand. the dark circles stark under his eyes. It had been a sleepless few weeks for everyone in his team and nights at the station were only getting longer and longer. 

Giving a tired nod of acknowledgement, Joshua turned his attention to what he liked to call his ‘murder board’. Wrong choice of name yes, but someone once told him that positive manifestation was a real thing. Maybe if he kept calling it a ‘murder board’ for long enough, one day he’d finally find himself climbing the ranks, handling real murder cases. He knew with just a little more power in his hands, he could be brilliant - he was a good detective, he had great intuition, he was sharp, efficient. Oh he’d make a fantastic sergeant or maybe even a lieutenant but instead, here he was, sitting in a tiny cubicle, the pages of his case files scattered across his desk, each one heavy with unanswered questions.

Six missing persons cases. That’s what Joshua was stuck on now.

Given his brilliance, it normally didn’t take more than a week for him to crack a case but these? These cases had turned into a three-month-long nightmare of frustration - endless hours of interrogation, dead end leads and constant running in circles. What bothered Joshua the most was that he had spent five years in the field, aced every exam, and most importantly, the sergeant position had been vacant for two months—ever since Hye Jin left for maternity leave. And yet, here he was, stuck in this cubicle, staring at the empty faces on case files, with no promotion in sight. How could he ever climb the ranks with these six cases making him look like an undeserving amateur?

One miracle—that’s all he needed. Six miracles, really. One clue per case, just a single point he had missed, one thing he might have overlooked. Shutting his eyes and leaning back in his chair, he sighed, wondering where on Earth he should look for answers. If only they walked into the station, looking for him. 

And then, you did. 

The creak of the door was what made Joshua’s eyes flicker up, following you as you stepped into the precinct.  You were wet from head to toe, hair sticking to your face and neck, your knee-length white nightgown clinging to your body as if you’d been caught in a downpour.

Joshua glanced outside. 

The sky was gray and heavy, but it was not raining. 

He frowned, rising from his chair. “Can I help you?”

You didn’t speak right away, your eyes darting around the room, searching for something. Joshua’s instincts flickered to life. Something was off, not in a way that screamed danger. Just… unsettling.

Water dripped all over the floor as you walked barefoot, struggling to take steps, shaking eyes, trembling lips and bruised knees accompanying you. Hand hovering over his pager, Joshua’s gaze shifted to his team, who were quietly filling the room, all of them sensing the shift in the air.

 “Are you okay?” He took a tentative step toward you, searching for answers on your face when you refused to meet his eyes. Instead they kept darting nervously over your shoulder and towards the door as though someone was about to follow you in. 

Joshua frowned at the entrance. “Is someone else coming-” 

“Don’t look.” You whispered, grabbing his hands, skin cold and grip tight. “I need help.” 

With a single gesture, Joshua had his team pull up a chair for you as he shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around your trembling shoulders before gently guiding you to sit. The air around you hummed, almost electric, as if something unknown was lingering.

Stepping back, Joshua leaned against his desk. “What’s going on?”

You hesitated, glancing nervously around the room. When you finally met his eyes, Joshua softened his expression, silently urging you to speak.

“Talk to me.”

“I.. I’m..” You muttered, your hands nervously fiddling with the fabric of your nightgown. “I’m being followed.” 

Joshua's brow furrowed, and he exchanged a glance with his team who immediately began heading towards the door. But you shook your head, fear evident in your voice. “They’re already here. In the precinct.”

“What do you mean?” He studied the room, his mind racing as everyone began frantically looking around, more alert than ever. “No one came in after you-” 

“Y-you can’t see them.” You raised your head, looking directly over Joshua’s shoulder, gulping. “.....Only I can.” 

Joshua followed your line of vision, his eyes finding the empty corner of the room. What on earth were you looking at? 

“I don’t understand, Miss…?” 

“Y/n,” Your voice was steady despite the fear in your eyes.

“Miss Y/n.” Joshua hesitated but still squatted in front of you, his eyes level with yours. “I’m here to help. You have to tell me exactly what’s happening..” 

Taking a shaky breath, you pulled the jacket closer to your body. “It started a week ago, I was coming back from the supermarket and there was a woman, standing right at the edge of the street.” 

“Was she someone you knew?” 

You shook your head. “I could sense her following me all the way home so I made sure to close the door as soon as I stepped inside but when I went into the kitchen…. ..she was already there.“ 

Joshua’s jaw tightened as he listened, watching you gulp the phantom lump in your throat. 

“I grabbed a knife and ran out, screaming for help, but when I brought my neighbor in… there was no one. It was like she vanished…. disappeared, into thin air.”

Joshua’s brows furrowed. “She ran off before you got back?”

You didn’t answer the question, simply continued. 

“Then the next day she was there again, but this time with three others. It was too early in the morning, the street was empty, I-I couldn't even ask anyone for help. When I entered the house I locked myself in again, but when I went into the kitchen…” You let out a shaky breath. “They were already inside. And just like before, when I tried to get help… they disappeared.”

 Joshua leaned forward, concerned.

 “The third day there were more of them, but this time I ran back to the store to get the cashier or the other townspeople to help me but no one could see them….. even though there were, standing right there, at the door, no one could see them.” 

The room grew tense as Joshua exchanged looks with his team. What was happening here?

“Miss Y/n are you sure they were there?” Joshua asked, his voice low.

“I’m not crazy,” You whispered, voice trembling. “They were there then… and they’re here now. All ten of them, right behind you.” 

Joshua felt something cold trickle down his spine. This time, he didn’t feel like looking behind him..

“Y-you can’t see them because they…” You hesitated.. “They are spirits.” 

The room that was already quiet to begin with grew more silent. Even the fluorescent light seemed to pause, waiting for someone to break the tension. Joshua blinked in disbelief, then scoffed softly.

“Spirits?” He repeated, incredulous. “You’re saying ghosts are following you?”

You didn’t flinch at his tone. Your gaze remained serious, too serious as you nodded.

Joshua’s eyes flickered to his team, who were exchanging nervous looks. Things were slipping beyond the edge of rational thought. Was this the universe’s way of taunting him? Yes he has always wanted to work on more complex cases but a beautiful looking seemingly mad woman who could see spirits? That was not on his bucket list. Nor was it his expertise. 

Ji Ho, the only woman on the team and ever the skeptic, slowly walked up to you, her voice calm but firm. “Miss Y/n, don’t worry, we can get you the help you need-” 

“You think I’m crazy.” You shook your head, eyes wide, desperate and not leaving Joshua’s “I swear, you have to believe me, I’m not insane.” 

Realising you wouldn’t cooperate, Joshua held up a hand, signaling for Ji Ho to step back as he slowly reached for his pager, dialing in the code for help.

 “I promise we’ll help you Miss Y/n, you need to trust us-.” 

Suddenly, moving with startling speed, you grabbed the pager out of his hands, anger in your eyes sharp. 

“You’re not listening!” You hissed, your grip tightening around the tiny device. Your hands, which had been shaking just moments before, suddenly stilled. It was as if you had snapped into a new state of resolve - you weren’t just pleading for help anymore; there was something else behind your gaze. Demand.. “These spirits won’t leave me until I give them what they want and you're the only one who can help me do that. I-I can’t live like this anymore.”

Joshua’s fingers tightened around the edge of the desk, his knuckles turning white. Something was off. You were clearly in distress, but there was something more beneath the surface. Something dangerous. The guard he had called for arrived at the door, waiting for his orders. Joshua nodded at Ji Ho who understood immediately and whispered something into his ears. As the uniformed man took off, Joshua walked over to this seat, pulling out a book and a pen. He had to engage you till he had help, he had to play his cards right. 

“Fine.” He flipped to an empty page, ready to write. “Tell me more. These spirits, what do they want?” 

“T-they’ve been telling me their stories, about who they are, about what happened”

“Okay…. Who are they?” Joshua tapped his pen against the surface. “Do you know their names?”

You shook your head. “I…I don’t but, I can ask.”

Looking around the room at nothing in particular you began mumbling something. Slowly, one after the other, you started dropping names as though you were repeating after an invisible, unheard voice. Joshua scribbled them down, eyes constantly darting towards the door, waiting for help. But as the list got longer, with each name he wrote, Joshua felt his guts twist. 

As did the whole team.

 Because they had all spent enough nights on those case files to have every detail memorised. 

Six of the ten names were the missing cases they had been working on. 

“A-are you sure these… these are the six names?” 

“Ten.” You corrected him. “Yes, these are the ten names.” 

Ji Ho met Joshua’s eyes from across the room, shaking her head. How could it be? More than half the names matching their list of victims, this…. This couldn’t just be a coincidence right? 

“You said you can see them? Can you, maybe, describe one of them for me?” Joshua studied your face as your eyebrows furrowed. “The old woman, Ye Soon, what does she look like?” 

“S-she’s around 60 years old. White hair, kind of like a curly bob. She’s got scoliosis so she stands a little crookedly.” You looked at the empty space behind him. “She also has a burn mark on her right hand.” 

Joshua froze. You were right. Down to every detail. 

“And Macy?” 

You turned around, looking over by the window. “She looks like a typical college kid - soft features, long straight hair, cheeks a bit sunken. She also peels the skin by her nails, they’re all bruised.” 

Right again. Your words matched the photos tucked away in the case file almost exactly. 

“And Jason-” 

“Officer Hong, we’re wasting time.” You shook your head. “Describing them is of no use, it doesn’t matter. What matters is what happened to them.” 

“You mean….” Joshua tapped his foot, his mind racing, the realisation just dawning upon him.. “You mean how they died?” 

“I mean how they were murdered.” You lowered your voice just a little. “And now they want justice.” 

The silence now was cold, heavy and deafening. No one knew what to do - the weight of your words had immobilised them all. 

“Josh.” Ji Ho, the only one unable to stay silent anymore, stepped up. “A word?” 

Excusing himself, Joshua got up and made his way to his team, all seven of them huddling around. Some of them looked terrified, constantly looking around, some looked at him plain confused like they still hadn’t put the pieces together. 

“Something’s wrong.” Ji ho crossed her arms. “There’s no way she-” 

“Knows the exact names and descriptions of missing people? Details of a private investigation?” Minho quipped. “I think it finally makes sense why we’ve not been able to trace these people…. They're dead.” 

“Which means all this while what we should have actually been looking for, are bodies.” Jaehyun sighed.

“What?” Ji ho looked at the boys like she couldn’t believe they were falling for this. “You think this is real? You think spirits are actually talking to her?” She turned to Joshua. “Please tell me you’re smarter than to believe in this madness.” 

“I don’t know what to believe right now.” Joshua pinched the bridge of his nose, lost in thought. “I think we should hear what she has to say-” 

“Josh-” 

“Ji Ho, we've been on these cases for months without a single solid lead.” He sighed. “As impossible as this might seem, I am desperate and I want to take a shot.” 

“You’re wasting the team’s time. I don’t think-” 

“She came to me, the case is mine,” Joshua looked at her pointedly. “So I call the shots.” 

Throwing her hands in the air, Ji Ho walked away, refusing to be a part of what she mumbled - a meaningless spectacle. Joshua returned, pulling a chair up, sitting right before you. Although he was the one who wanted answers, you beat him to the questioning. 

“You don’t believe me do you?” You sounded so scared. “You think I’m insane.” 

“I want to believe you, trust me Miss Y/n, you have no idea how easy it would make my life to believe you, six of these people are actually….” Shaking his head he held himself back, sticking to what was important. “The point is, you have come to the right place for help, the law can help you. But the law also requires proof, you need to prove what you’re saying is true.” 

You gulped, tapping your feet unsure, eyes darting around. 

“Ye Soon, that old woman.” You looked at him, slightly hesitating. “What if I took you to her?” 

Joshua frowned confused.

“What if I showed where she is…. “ Scooting closer to him, you whispered. “She told me everything, I can take you to where her body is.” 

Ji Ho looked at Joshua with narrowed eyes. Joshua returned her look with an unreadable expression. As though the universe had timed it all, the guard finally returned with help - two men dressed in soft blue scrubs carrying the logo of the town’s only psychiatric hospital. 

There were one of two things Joshua could do. He knew sending you away was the right thing to do, he knew you needed help, he knew listening to you was madness. 

But he also knew you were the closest thing to answers he had gotten in months. 

Turning to you, he pulled your chair closer. “Show me.” His voice was low, urgent. “Right now.”

Joshua stood by the back door, the rain slashing against the pavement like a thousand tiny daggers. He lit his cigar, inhaling the smoke as the faint hum of the town’s heartbeat seemed to vanish into the downpour. The cold air bit at his skin, but he didn’t care. His thoughts, heavy with the case, weighed him down more than any storm ever could.

Beside him you stood, leaning against the brick wall, your arms holding on to his jacket, wrapped around your midsection as if bracing against the cold. Your damp nightgown had long since dried, but the way you stood, your shoulders slightly hunched, made it seem like you were still caught in the storm.

Joshua couldn’t help but watch you. Something about you unsettled him, though he couldn’t put his finger on it. His eyes found their way to you, running all over your features, lingering longer than they should have. 

“Smoking is bad for your health.” 

You finally spoke, looking at him with those big eyes. Brown, soft, expressionless eyes. 

“I believe every man should have some bad habit.” Joshua chuckled, offering a small smile. “Keeps him grounded.” 

You laughed softly—a sound that almost got lost in the rain’s incessant roar, but thankfully, his ears were sharp enough to catch it.

“Do you have a bad habit Miss Y/n?” 

You hummed, looking far off at the quiet darkness of the town. “I don't know if this is bad but, I tend to go to any lengths to help the people I love.” 

Joshua’s lips pressed together. His gaze flicked to you, considering your words. “Must be why the spirits chose to talk to you,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “Maybe they knew you’d help no matter what.”

When he turned to see what you thought of that, he found a small almost imperceptible smile tugging the corner of your lips. It was subtle, but present, making his chest tighten unexpectedly 

“What?” he asked, his voice betraying the flutter in his chest.

You shook your head, still smiling. “I’m just relieved you believe me.” 

How could he not? Afterall, Ye Soon was indeed where you said she would be - at the abandoned ice cream factory, tucked away in a large freezer, the body months old and ice cold. His team—especially Ji Ho—had recoiled in disbelief, but you? You hadn’t flinched. You stood aside, quiet and composed, as the body was recovered.

Over the last two hours, samples of hair, nails, fluid and whatever else that could be found were gathered and sent to the forensic lab for analysis but Joshua had a bigger question to address. 

“Is…” He took a deep breath. “Is Ye Soon somewhere around here?”

“She’s by the gate.” You turned to him. “Why?”

“I just want to confirm….. you’re sure she didn’t see the face of her killer?”

On the ride back, you had recounted Ye Soon’s entire story to the team. How she had felt  like she was being stalked for a long time. How she didn’t usually go anywhere at night but on the evening of her birthday, she couldn’t resist the free dinner invitation she received. How she was walking to the restaurant, dressed up and all alone when she was attacked from behind. 

You shook your head, expression slightly dejected. “No, her killer wore a mask so she had no idea who it was. One moment she was hit on the head and bleeding to death and the next, she found herself looking at her body in the freezer…. as a spirit.” 

“If justice is what she wants, it's going to be hard without having any idea who the killer is.” He sighed. “For now, we can start looking into why a freezer was functioning in an abandoned factory for the last 4 months but…. I’m not sure if it’ll lead to anything solid.” 

“Don't lose hope already.” You pushed yourself off the wall, taking a step closer to him. “The forensic team might have some answers.” 

“I hope so.” He nodded, but his thoughts were elsewhere. His gaze lingered on you, and for a brief moment, he imagined what it might be like to trust you completely. “Miss Y/n, I'll need you to lead me to the other nine bodies too. I hope it won’t be too much trouble for you.”

“Of course not.” You shook your head, hand finding his wrist reassuringly. “Although one of them is quite far and it's already past midnight-”

“Not now, tomorrow morning.” He glanced at your eager expression, hands itching to tuck that tiny strand of hair behind your ear. “It's late now, you should head home.” 

You nodded, drawing your hand back, and Joshua already missed the warmth of your touch. Taking a step back, you attempted to remove his jacket, but when a strong gust of wind blew, a shiver ran down your body.

Joshua chuckled, pulling it up your arms, adjusting it over your shoulders. “Keep it, it suits you better.” 

“Careful officer.” You smiled at him. “If you come asking for it again, I won't give it back.” 

“Fine by me.” He laughed. “Let me grab my keys, I'll drop you.” 

“That's okay, I'll walk.”

“It's raining Miss Y/n. I don't think-”

“I like walking in the rain.” You stuck your hand out in the pouring water. “Makes me feel good.” 

“I could walk you.” 

“It’s not like I don’t have company.” Joshua frowned as you giggled. “The spirits, officer. They follow me everywhere.” 

That flicker of something playful in your eyes - Joshua was seeing it for the first time. When you had walked in here earlier you had been so terrified, shaking, desperate for help. Now you seemed so unfazed. Maybe you were glad that you were finally getting help. Maybe you were never really terrified. Either way, the unsettling shift in your demeanor troubled his mind. 

“You sure you’ll be okay?” His tone was lighter than he intended, masking what he was truly feeling.

“I’ll be fine,” You brushed him off with the wave of a hand. “I’ll just get lost in my own thoughts, without any distractions.”

Joshua didn’t stop you as you began walking. He simply watched as you glanced over your shoulder, muttering a small “good night” before stepping into the rain. Slowly, as your figure was swallowed by the darkness of the night, Joshua retreated into the debate in his mind. Should he follow to make sure you weren’t in trouble?

Or were you the trouble that was looming around the corner?

Joshua leaned back in his chair, his eyes locked on the scattered files in front of him. The low hum of the fluorescent lights above, along with the steady, almost rhythmic tap of his fingers against the desk, were the only sounds that filled the otherwise silent room. The pile of crime scene files seemed to grow heavier with each glance—each one a grim reminder of the ten bodies they had recovered. Ten people dead, each with their own story, now reduced to nothing more than photos, forensic reports, and police notes.

Two weeks. Two long weeks of following the trail you’d led them to, finding all ten victims hidden in the most unimaginable locations, each one’s story recounted with haunting detail. As per protocol, his team had collected every piece of evidence they could find, and the progressive inspection of each item only further corroborated your stories. Ji Ho, who had initially resisted being part of this madness, had also joined, keenly looking into the details of the investigation.

There was just one detail that Joshua could not wrap his head around - the fact that all ten victims had apparently not seen their killer’s face. 

Each one had been attacked from behind - either struck on the head, run over by a car, strangled from behind or shoved off a building. It was always from the back, perfectly concealing their perpetrators face, keeping that identity a mystery.  Aside from this one detail which was making the progress of his investigation incredibly difficult, Joshua did not notice anything strikingly similar amongst all the cases. 

That was until he was staring at his now very real murder board earlier today. 

It was filled with a dozen pictures and pins, only getting messier with every detail but there was one connection Joshua happened to piece as he searched for the finer details - Ye Soon was going for a dinner on her birthday, Macy was returning from a birthday party her friends had thrown her, Jason was going to meet his girlfriend to celebrate his birthday….. All ten of them had died on their birthday and not just that - all of their birthdays fell on the 30th of the month. 

And that was when the pieces clicked. Joshua arranged all ten cases according to a timeline, spanning from January this year to November. Every month on the 30th, right on their birthday, one victim had died and Joshua knew for a fact that this was a pattern because there was no victim in February - the only month without a 30th. 

This was an MO. This wasn’t the work of ten different killers. It was one. One serial killer.

The moment he realized this, he knew he should share it with his team, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to. Perhaps it was because he knew the moment he revealed this discovery, all eyes would turn to one person—You.

And sure enough, the door slammed open and Ji Ho entered, a thick file in her hand. 

“I heard back from forensics.” She walked over, setting the papers on his table. “But you’re a brilliant detective Joshua, so you must have already figured this out.” 

“What?” Joshua sipped on his coffee, trying to appear nonchalant. 

“There were many different DNAs collected at the crime scenes, but one particular DNA was found at every single one.” 

Fuck. There it was.  His worst fear, out loud.

“This is clearly a serial killer Joshua.” When he didn’t meet her eye, she moved into his line of vision. “For heaven’s sake, why are you trying to protect her?” 

“Who?” Joshua shot back, his jaw tightening.

“Y/n.” She spoke through gritted teeth. “Please tell me you’re not being an infatuated fool-” 

“I’m not a fool.” 

“But you don’t deny the infatuation.” Ji Ho’s voice rose as she pointed at him. “I’ve seen you two over the last many days - you think I don’t recognise the way you look at her?” 

“Ji Ho, just because the two of us were once a thing and it didn’t work out-” 

“This isn’t about us!” She threw her hands in the air, frustration evident. “You know I’m more professional than that. This is about you. You saw a petite, pretty damsel in distress who told you a sob story and leaned on your shoulder and you decided to forget about everything sensible.” 

“You aren’t being sensible!” Joshua turned to face her, anger simmering. “Ji Ho, if Y/n was the killer why would she lead us to the bodies? Why would she try to implicate herself?” 

“You know how the brains of psychos work. They think they’re too smart, that they’ll never be caught.” Ji Ho crossed her arms. “This is just a game for her.” 

Joshua shook his head. “She’d have to be too dumb to expose herself like this. Using the paranormal to do it, don’t you think it’s too much?” 

“I knew you wouldn’t believe me.” Ji Ho let out a heavy breath. “So I did what I had to do. I called Y/n here.” 

He frowned. “Why?” 

“I took a sample of her hair without her knowledge and sent it to the lab.” Ji Ho took a step back, her eyes cold. “In a short while, we’ll know if that DNA matches hers… You’ll have your answers then.” 

“Ji Ho, this wasn’t my order—”

“I’m sorry but I don’t care, Josh.” She stopped her tracks by the door. “We might have been in love years ago, but I know what you are like. You’ll do anything to protect her and I cannot just sit back and watch you indulge in this stupidity.” 

“I’m none of your fucking concern!” Joshua’s voice rose in frustration as she walked out without another word. “Ji Ho, come back here, goddammit!”

Frustrated he slammed his hands on the table, the coffee cup toppling to the ground. It wasn’t like Joshua hadn’t thought of this possibility but this was his case to solve. He wanted to talk to you first, hear whatever it was from your mouth, not some cold DNA report.

Recalling Ji Ho say that you were here, Joshua bolted out of his room to the visitors lounge. There you were, sitting on the couch with your feet pulled up, flipping through a magazine while the sound of a Spanish telenovela played in the background. Annoyed by the noise, Joshua grabbed the remote and switched it off before walking toward you.

 In the sudden absence of the sound you looked up, eyes finding him, a smile spreading across your face as he sat beside you on the couch. Normally, Joshua wouldn’t sit so close to a witness—or take her hand in his—but you were different.

“Hi.” You whispered. “You look tense.” 

“How long have you been here?” 

“About half an hour,” You rubbed his arm comfortingly. “Ji Ho said you wanted to talk to me.” 

Joshua swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “There’s been some progress in the case.”

You turned to him, curious. “Did you find any of the killers?” 

“Not exactly.” He shook his head. “I…I got a lead, though. Actually I’m not sure it’s much of a clue.” 

“What is it?” 

“All of them were killed on the 30th of the month.” He watched you closely, studying your face for any flicker of recognition, of guilt. “It seems like a pattern. Like this might be the work of one person.” 

“One person?” Your eyes widened. “You mean like a serial killer?”

Joshua nodded. 

“A serial killer who kills on the 30th of every month.” You muttered, lost in thought. “Why the 30th?” 

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, his voice tight. “Maybe they don’t like the number.”

“I won’t be surprised.” You pursed your lips. “I’ve never really liked the number 30 either. It’s like a deadline... something always looming, reminding you of the things you haven’t done. The things you can’t undo.”

Joshua blinked, trying to keep his expression neutral. Please, please, please, this can’t be true.

“But if I am right and if this is a pattern,.” He stared at their intertwined hands. “30th December is not far off and maybe they have another victim in their sight…. I need to find this killer soon.” 

“If it is a serial killer then this is much easier than we thought.” You reassured, turning towards him. “Think about it, isn’t it better to find one person than ten? And won’t all the evidence help you narrow down who the culprit is? All you have to do is something common amongst them all, right?”

Joshua nodded. Exactly. It was easy. Which meant it couldn’t have been you, could it? You wouldn’t have committed those crimes and then set up a trap for yourself would you? That made no sense. 

Or perhaps Joshua was refusing to see sense in it. Perhaps he was so drawn by you that he couldn’t bring himself to see reason. 

With each passing day, he had found his eyes lingering less over the crime scene and more over you. With each body being discovered, it was like the weight on your shoulders was lessening. You seemed more free, more at peace, more…..beautiful. Whenever your eyes met his, you began to smile. Whenever he rode his bike and you sat behind him, he felt his heart do a somersault in his chest. Just watching you walk into the station every morning made him feel a relief like no other.

Joshua had begun to like these small things. Your presence, your tiny quirks, the way you told stories, even though they were quite horrendous recounts, he liked how expressive your face was. He liked you. 

And it was evident you liked him too.

At first, Joshua thought you liked to be around him because you felt safe but slowly you began sitting closer to him than usual. You began following him on walks to survey perimeters, holding his hand when you tripped but not letting it go even when you were steady. He could tell by the way you looked at him - you felt the same thing he was feeling. That undeniable attraction, that magnetism. 

Except there was only one tiny thing between the two of you - you might be a potential murderer and Joshua might have to implicate you for your crimes. Which is why none of this could be true. You could not be the killer. 

But no sooner than he thought that, the door to the visitors room flung open making the two of you jump apart and Ji Ho stepped in, a thin file in her hand. 

“The results are back.” Her eyes flickered between both of you. “I’m sorry Josh but the DNA matches…. It’s her.” 

Joshua's heart dropped. The words echoed in his mind, and for a split second, the world seemed to stop.

It was you. You were the killer.

Joshua stood in the observation room, his eyes locked on you through the two-way mirror. 

You were slouched at the table, head low, your exhaustion palpable. The harsh light above cast long shadows across your face, making your features appear fragile and worn. Joshua’s heart tightened as he watched you. He longed to step in, to pull you close and promise that everything would be okay, but he couldn’t. He had to remain detached, professional—even though every instinct screamed to comfort you.

For the past three days, he had avoided entering the interrogation room, choosing instead to watch from the observation window, a silent witness to your suffering. He could see the strain in your eyes each time you pleaded for belief, for a chance to prove your innocence. Occasionally, you’d look towards him, and in those fleeting moments, it was as if you could see him right through the mirror. The desperate, pleading look you gave shattered something inside him—his resolve, his detachment. Every time, he felt that same arrow pierce his heart, and yet, he remained still, unable to intervene. Helpless.

His gaze flickered to Minho, who had just entered the room, pulling up his sleeves with the usual resolve. Joshua turned away from the mirror, his jaw tightening. He had to hold it together. He couldn’t let Minho see how he was unraveling inside.

“It’s my turn boss.” He glanced at Joshua. “Unless you want to?”

Joshua shook his head, sipping on his coffee. Minho sighed, pulling the door open and stepping in, catching you off guard with his sudden appearance. Joshua watched the man as he took a seat, settling the files on the table before you. 

“Where’s Joshua?” You asked, your eyes flickering toward the door expectantly.

“I’ll ask the questions Miss.Y/n.” Minho cleared his throat a little too loudly.

“For the last time,” You sighed. “I did not do it. I am not the killer-” 

“I’m not suggesting you are the killer Miss Y/n.” He pushed the file towards you. “I simply want you to explain why your DNA has been found on all ten sites.” 

“I’ve already told you,” you leaned back in your chair, frustration evident in your voice. “When the spirits first talked to me, I went to some of those locations to make sure I wasn’t losing my mind. How many times do I have to repeat myself?”

“You mentioned you went to-” He flipped through the papers “-four sites. Then how was your DNA found at all ten?” 

“Maybe because I was the one who led you to those locations,” you shot back, crossing your arms.

“Are you suggesting we are stupid enough to mess up the sample collection?” Minho’s voice grew colder. “That we sat back and let you contaminate those crime scenes?”

“Then are you suggesting that I am stupid enough to commit ten murders and walk into a station and implicate myself?”  you retorted.

Minho leaned back, narrowing his eyes.“I don’t know Miss Y/n. I’m looking for you to give me the answers.” 

“For god’s sake!” You slammed your palm onto the table, frustration boiling over. “If you think I’m going to cave to this tortuous questioning and admit to something I didn’t do, you’re wrong. I. Didn’t. Do. It.” 

“But you could have helped the killer.” Minho shrugged. “The sentence for an accomplice to murder is less severe Miss Y/n, if you admit to it, we can help you-” 

“I don’t need your help because I did not do this.” You glanced at the mirror,your eyes locking with Joshua’s yet again. “I made a mistake coming here thinking you could help me, you’d help them. But now I am being held here, blamed for something I didn’t do.” 

Joshua’s grip on his coffee tightened, his gaze sliding away from you. He had nothing to say.

Minho exhaled sharply. “Miss Y/n, you are being held because the evidence clearly points at you-” 

“Or maybe I’m here because you need a scapegoat to take the fall.” you interrupted, voice dripping with bitterness.

Surprised, Joshua straightened out. 

“I heard six of these cases were in fact missing people that your team hadn’t been able to find in months.” you continued, your tone mocking. “Convenient isn’t it, to blame it all on the only other person involved in the uncovering of the crime scene? A nice, easy way to wrap this up neatly.” 

“Are you implying that one of us manipulated the evidence to make it look like you’re the killer?” Minho snapped.

“I didn’t say that,” you tilted your head, your gaze sharp. “But you seem to be admitting to it.”

“Miss Y/n, don’t twist my words….” 

But there was no need to. 

Joshua took a step back, mind running through the possibilities. About who might have such a motive, who might have manipulated the evidence…..

There was only one person who popped in his mind. Someone who was as driven as him to solve these cases. Someone who didn’t want to be a part of the investigation but had joined regardless. Someone who could possibly benefit from trapping you in this case. 

Ji Ho. 

Joshua knew his ex girlfriend well enough to dismiss this possibility of her involvement. It was the reason the two of them had broken up - She was incredibly competitive, she never seemed to remember the relationship the two of them shared when they were in a professional space, she was never happy for him, never acknowledged his achievements.

But that did not mean there was no passion between them outside the walls of the precinct. God they were wild and couldn’t keep their hands and eyes off each other. Things were fine till whatever happened at work stayed at work, but the more Joshua became successful in his career, Ji Ho started bringing her professional grievances home, between them. The suffocation her competitiveness brought forth was what stifled their bond - Joshua couldn’t live with it any longer. 

But maybe, now that he thought about it, this situation allowed her to kill two birds with one stone - on one hand, the cases termed nearly impossible could finally be closed and on the other, you, his new person of interest would be out of the way. Joshua saw the way Ji Ho looked at the two of you, like she didn’t like it one bit - her incriminating you wasn’t exactly impossible. When she had secretly taken a sample of your hair to cross verify with the identified DNA, who’s to say she didn’t plant the other evidence the same way? 

Grabbing his pager from the table, he gave you one last glance before pulling the door open, setting off to look for the woman in question. He had to act fast. He needed to find out if Ji Ho was involved. 

Thankfully he didn’t have to look far, she was right at the visitors room, remote in her hand, watching the same Spanish telenovela that had been perpetually on the station’s TV for months.

“Ji Ho-” Joshua called out.

“Shh,” she raised a hand to silence him, keeping her eyes on the screen. “I’m watching.”

“Is that more important than what’s happening with Y/n-” 

“Honestly? Yeah,” she replied without missing a beat, her tone flippant. “This is actually what helped save her.”

Joshua stared at her, bewildered. “What do you mean, ‘save her’?”

“I think she’s innocent,” Ji Ho said, finally turning to face him.

All points of argument that Joshua had come up with died in his mind. What? 

“You do? You believe she’s innocent?” He placed himself right before the screen. “You were the one who was so sure she did it-” 

“I simply believed the evidence that came up.” She rolled her eyes. “But unlike you, I don’t let my emotions rule over practicality.” 

“I did not-” 

“I know you Josh, I know something is wrong. Your judgement has been clouded for days, you’re not thinking straight. But I am.” She crossed her arms, taking a deep breath. “I knew we needed more irrefutable evidence and most importantly, we needed a motive so I had been looking and asking around. Turns out she has an alibi.” 

“What kind of alibi?” 

“The people at the store confirmed that a few weeks back she had run in, scared and shaking, claiming she was followed. The neighbours also said that she had approached them for help a few times but they didn't see anyone.” 

“Didn't you say that she might have done all that to make her story more convincing?”

“Yes but,” Ji Ho bit her lower lip hesitating. “I also broke into her house-” 

“You what??” 

“-and I found her passport and a couple of other things that prove she wasn't even in town when three or four of those murders happened, the timelines don't match.”

 “So it might not be her?” Joshua let out an inward sigh of relief. “Then… then what about the DNA?” 

“Precisely.” Ji Ho nodded, gesturing him to turn around. “Watch this.” 

Frowning Joshua did, eyes falling on the tv screen. He wasn't really familiar with this show, the only reason he had ever watched it was because Ji Ho was obsessed with it. He did remember this particular part of the plot though - everyone thought Maria was the mother of Lizzy but it was actually her twin, Gloria. 

Twin?.....

“Identical twins have the exact same DNA.” Ji Ho muted the show as his mind raced with the possibilities. “Do you know if Y/n has a twin?”

Joshua shook his head. He didn't ask much about your family or personal life, he didn't really find the chance to have such a conversation but if there was even a possibility….

Rushing out, Joshua barged into the interrogation room where Minho was still badgering you with his questions. 

“Joshua….” You looked up at him, eyes widening. For the first time in days, you saw something other than apology in his eyes. You clung to that look, hoping it meant he was still on your side. Ji Ho followed him, walking into the room right behind, earning a small frown from you. 

“Y/n,” Watching Joshua unable to say anything she walked up, shoving her hands in her pockets. “There's something important we need to know.” 

“What is it?” You continued to look at Joshua who simply nodded softly, signalling you not to worry. 

“Do you happen to have a twin? An identical one?”

Blinking rapidly, you hesitated. “I…. I do, yeah, why?” 

Joshua and Ji Ho exchanged looks. Fuck. 

“Where is she?”

“I- I don't know. We both grew up at the St. Mary orphanage. At around the age of eight, she was adopted. The family didn't want two kids so they only took her in. Few months later I was adopted by a different family so we haven't really seen each other or even heard from each other since then.” Your eyes flickered between both the officers. “Why? What happened?” 

Thank god. Thank fucking god. 

Joshua let out the breath he was holding, shutting his eyes briefly out of relief. 

Ji Ho, who looked both guilty and curious, stepped closer to you. “So you don’t know where she is right now?” 

You shook your head, “But I know she's a Mayor's daughter, I don't remember for which town though.” 

Nodding at Joshua, Ji Ho whispered something into Minho's ears before the two of them hurriedly left the room. Standing up confused, your eyes followed them as Joshua neared you. 

“Joshua what's happening?” 

He didn't say anything, just simply pulled you into a hug, finally feeling your warmth again as you wrapped your arms around his waist. 

“You'll be fine.” He held onto you tighter. “I'm not going to let anything happen to you.” 

Joshua watched you fast sleep on the couch of the visitor’s lounge. 

Curled up, with your hair spilling over your face like a dark veil, you looked peaceful, untouched by the weight of the world. As much as Joshua longed to slip in beside you and to hold you as you slept, he knew better. He had to maintain some distance. The team had already been giving him looks whenever you stood too close to him, leaning over case files, working through the details of the investigation. At least the pity and disdain in their eyes had faded—now that you were cleared, they saw you as less of a suspect. 

Ji Ho, ever the efficient one, had tracked down your twin just a few days ago. She had been found in a town several hours away, barely conscious, dragged into the precinct with the sour smell of alcohol still clinging to her. Standing beside Joshua, you watched your twin in the interrogation room, hungover and dazed, trying to make sense of the evidence mounting against her. Though you hadn’t spoken in years, the ache in your chest was unmistakable. You didn’t want to believe it was her but even after sobering up when she failed to provide any alibi, the truth was undeniable.

Her neighbors, friends, and even family all corroborated the fact that she had fallen deep into drugs, her life spiraling out of control. The last few months had turned her into someone unrecognizable—violent, unpredictable and uncontrollable. No one could vouch for her whereabouts during the killings either and as the investigation wore on, the evidence stacked up against her, leaving little room for doubt. In the end, she was arrested, the case moving forward to court where she was to be prosecuted for her crimes. 

Today was your final day at the station—just a few papers to sign, a final nod to close the investigation. After this, the case would be officially closed and the two of you would not be bound by the investigation anymore - there was no obligation to see each other. 

“You know,” Ji Ho’s voice broke the silence, pulling Joshua out of his thoughts, “just because the case is over doesn’t mean you won’t get to see her.”

Joshua turned to see her standing in the doorway, arms crossed, leaning casually against the frame.

“I know.” He muttered, feeling a familiar pang in his chest. “But how do you always know what I’m thinking?”

She chuckled, stepping into the room. “Because I know you, Joshua. Better than anyone. I just wish you knew me too. I wish you knew me better. I would never incriminate someone out of pettiness.”

He winced, guilt tugging at him. “I’m sorry. I guess I was just ready to believe anything that meant Y/n was innocent.”

Ji Ho glanced at you. “Well, you don't have to worry about that anymore. She is innocent. “ 

“Thanks to you.” He smiled, looking at you slightly shifting in your sleep, mouth now slightly open as you continued to doze off. “She would have still been a suspect if not for your brilliance.” 

“Nah.” Ji Ho waved her hand, dismissing his words. “I only did what I had to, it's my job. But what's really amazing is you cracked the cases Joshua, the ones no one could solve for months. I heard the promotion letter is on the way.” 

“It should have been yours Ji Ho.” Staring at the ground Joshua shifted uncomfortably, refusing to meet her eyes. He couldn't bring himself to. “I know how much you wanted this too, and I… I don’t understand why you gave all the credit to me.”

Ji Ho sighed, her gaze distant. “I did want it. But I felt like you deserved it more, especially for all that I put you through the last many days.” 

“So this is out of pity?” 

“It's out of admiration.” She corrected. “I don't know if I would have been able to keep my calm the way you did when Y/n was being accused. You put your job above everything, you were the one who figured out the killer's MO, you were the driving force of this investigation. It's only right that you go up the ranks.” She then paused as though she was unsure if she should continue. “You can also think of it as an early birthday present from me.” 

Joshua glanced at the calendar, the black rimmed circle placed over 29th December. His birthday was tomorrow. Here he was, too wrapped up in all this to even remember but of course Ji Ho did. Even after all that happened, she remembered. 

“Thanks,” he muttered, trying to mask the sudden rush of gratitude. Before he could say more, his gaze shifted back to you. You were beginning to stir, shifting on the couch, their voices perhaps pulling you from your slumber.

Ji Ho noticed it too, and with a small nod, she tucked her hands in her pockets and began to back out of the room. “I should go. You and Y/n should have a nice celebration tomorrow, okay?”

Joshua smiled, not entirely convinced as she disappeared into the buzz of the busy office. Was he really worthy of a celebration though? Even though the six biggest problems of his life had been solved giving him the promotion he wanted more than anything, Joshua didn't quite find himself fully relieved. It was as though there was something he still wasn't seeing. 

When you finally raised your head, blinking sleepily, Joshua pushed all his conflicting thoughts aside. Right now, only you mattered.

“Morning sunshine.” He smiled softly, voice light.

You glanced at the window, then at the clock. “It's 6pm Joshua.” 

“Yes but you've been sleeping like it's the dead of the night.” 

“Can you blame me?” You yawned. “For the first time in days, I'm able to sleep without thinking about somebody constantly watching me.” When Joshua looked confused, you sat up, crossing your legs. “The spirits, Joshua.” 

“They're gone?” 

“I haven't seen much of them the last few days, ever since she was brought in…..” You trailed off, your gaze flickering down to your restless hands. “I guess they've gotten the justice they're looking for.” 

“I'd have thought they'd stick around at least till the trial.” Joshua looked thoughtful. “She's the Mayor's daughter. What if she buys her way out of this?” 

“I don't know.” You shrugged. “I know her background might allow her to escape this unscathed but I hope not. Perpetrators deserve to be punished.” 

Something about your words stung Joshua differently. Indeed, the perpetrator should be punished, but for that, it was necessary to find the real culprit. A tiny voice in his head was making him doubt his choice. 

“I thought twins were naturally very protective of one another.” He glanced at you carefully. “You seem okay with whatever is happening to your sister.” 

You looked at him incredulously. “Of course I'm upset but you know what she did. I'm not emotionally attached to her because we barely know anything about each other but even if I was, do you think someone who killed so many people deserves to walk freely? The spirits trusted me to ensure they got justice Joshua, how can I let their murderer not face any consequences?” 

Joshua stared at the wall behind you, mind racing to the time it all began with you walking into the station. Your claim about spirits only you could see, all ten spirits being unaware of their killer yet all ten of them conveniently being killed by the same person. Your knowledge of all the crime sites, finding your DNA in every single one. You happening to have a twin sister who, in contrast to your perfect alibis, didn't have any. It was all too easy - was it a lucky coincidence that the spirits found the estranged twin of their perpetrator to be their yielder of justice? Or had he in fact caught the wrong sister…..Joshua felt a chill run down his spine. Somehow, it didn't seem like this case was over - there was clearly more to it. 

He turned his attention back to you, gulping when he realised you were studying his zoned out expression intently. 

“What is it?” You raised an eyebrow. “What are you thinking?” 

“Just…” He cleared his throat. “I wanted to come over and get my jacket back but I realised I didn't even know where you lived.” 

You cocked your head at him, a knowing expression on your face. “I told you - Once you give it to me, I won’t return it if you ask.” 

“Right.” Joshua chuckled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. 

Fuck. This was his one shot to confirm the truth before it was too late. Twins might look identical and even have the same DNA but their fingerprints? Fingerprints were unique even among twins and Joshua wanted to get his hands on yours. His jacket being a leather one would have been an easy way to obtain them but now, he had to think of something else.

“I was thinking, do you want to maybe go out and get dinner today?” He looked at you feigning casualness he was not feeling. “We've never really gotten the chance to do anything outside the precinct, I thought we could spend some time….”

You shook your head softly, a small, apologetic smile playing at your lips as you got up. “Not tonight. I have something I need to do.”

“Something more important than me?” He smiled half-heartedly, trying to mask the hurt. “Than us?” 

Laughing softly you walked up to him, hands clasped behind your hand as you leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. “I'll be seeing you tomorrow anyway, birthday boy.”

Joshua watched as you slowly pulled away from him and began to leave, the lightness of your kiss still lingering on his skin. It didn’t feel like an intimate gesture, more like a goodbye, a farewell to something unspoken.

He stood frozen, entangled in his web of thoughts, unsure of what to do with himself. But when the moment passed, he made up his mind. - he couldn’t wait any longer. He had to know the truth.

Rushing towards Ji Ho’s cubicle, his heart pounding in his chest, he called out to her breathlessly. 

“You said you broke into Y/n’s place, right?”

Her eyes widened, surprised by his urgency. She nodded.

“I need you to give me the address.”

Joshua slowly pushed the door of your house, both surprised and thankful it was unlocked. 

He had been hiding in the bushes for over an hour now, watching you move around through the glass of the window. About ten minutes ago, you had donned his jacket, pulled your hair into a high ponytail and left the house, walking into the dead of the night. Joshua glanced at his watch - it was 11pm and he had no idea what kind of business you had set off to do. Now that he thought about it, Joshua didn’t know anything about you at all - why then was he so enthralled by you?

He had to snap out of it. He was here to find the truth and that’s what he was going to do. When he was finally convinced that you weren’t returning to grab something you might have forgotten, Joshua mustered his courage and stepped carefully into the dimly lit house, his heartbeat quickening with each creak of the floorboard beneath his shoes. This was the only chance he might have to explore your space, your sanctuary, see who you were outside that mask of affection you always wore when they were together. He knew it was dangerous and reckless, but he had to be sure. 

The house was quiet. Too quiet. It smelled faintly of lavender, mixed with a subtle undertone of something he couldn’t quite place. He moved through the living room, avoiding the clutter of half-empty cups and newspapers, scanning for anything that might give him a clue. The space looked like it hadn’t been cared for in a while, like you hadn’t been home for a long time. Joshua made mental notes of everything as he walked in, his feet taking him around like he had been here a hundred times already. 

It was only when he tripped over the rug that his tracks stopped, prompting him to look at the cause of his near fall - A loose floorboard. Frowning he crouched down and pried it loose, the cool edge of the tile slipping from its mortar with a slight scrape. Underneath, hidden in the narrow compartment, was a small wooden box, its surface worn with time. Turning it in his hands, Joshua pried it open.

Photographs. 

Hundreds of photographs of you. 

No, not you… you didn’t dress in designer wear, drink expensive champagne or drive in a Rolls Royce. This was your sister. 

You had uncountable photographs of her, carefully taken and meticulously arranged. She looked young in some of them and much older in others. Some were clearly taken from a distance while others seemed more intimate, like they’d been taken while she was unaware….. You had been stalking her.

From the looks of it, you had been keeping an eye on her for years, watching her every move. Joshua’s stomach churned, a new sense of unease settling over him. You said you hadn’t seen her in years - you lied. 

Spreading them out on the cold floor, he flipped through them, realising that everyone was right about her - she had an affinity to party and indulge in drugs, often blacking out in the middle of nowhere. But he also realised that she in fact, had an alibi…. A couple of dates on these photos were on the 30th… she couldn’t have possibly been the killer. 

And more importantly, you knew that. If you had taken these pictures, you knew your sister was innocent - yet you watched her be put away behind the bars. 

Fuck. 

This was a terrible mistake. 

Quickly moving, Joshua grabbed the relevant photos - Ji Ho had to see this, the whole team had to see this. But before he could smoothly stash them away in his pocket, he heard the familiar creak of the floorboard at the entrance. You were back. 

Joshua’s breath hitched as the soft footfall of your steps echoed through the quiet room, getting louder and louder by the minute. Panicking, he quickly stuffed everything back in the box, shoved it back into its hidden compartment and placed the floorboard back in place, pretending like nothing had happened.

Just as he stood up, turning towards the sound, his eyes fell on your figure lingering by the large wooden arch, watching him intensely. Slowly, almost deliberately, you closed the distance in between, eyes not leaving him, not blinking. Joshua tensed, his body stiffening with a mix of fear and anticipation. And when you reached him, you didn’t speak - merely tilted your head, your eyes searching his face as if reading something he didn’t want you to see.

Then, without warning, curling your fingers around his collar, pulling him closer, you kissed him. 

Your lips pressed against his, tenderly but also carrying an undeniable weight. Joshua's body froze for a moment, completely caught off guard by the intensity of it, the subtle brush of your lips conveying something far deeper than simple affection. Your hands moved, one sliding up to his neck, the other tangling in his hair, and for a brief second, Joshua forgot himself. His hand cupped your face, as he pushed you back against the wall, kissing you passionately, like he was a hungry man, finally being fed. You moaned as the heat swelled between the pressed bodies, both of you powerless to the undeniable attraction between the two of you. 

Finally, you pulled away, just a fraction, your breath warm on his lips, and in that silence, you softly bit your lower lip, looking at him with big, lust blown eyes. 

"Did I play my part well, Shua?"

Joshua’s heart stuttered in his chest, his breath slowing down, eyes fixed on you. 

And then he cocked his head and gave a short nod.

At last, at fucking last, Joshua allowed the mask to crack, a small, victorious smile dancing on his face. The smile that had once been charming and controlled, faltered at the edges, now that he had come face to face with the full scope of the story he had spun. The facade he worked so hard to maintain, the calculated version of himself that had held the reins of this twisted game, finally slipped away. 

Dragging his hand down from your cheek, he wrapped it around your throat, pulling you closer, angling your face up, pressing contrastingly soft kisses along your jaw. You sighed happily despite struggling to breathe, eyes rolling back as you grabbed his wrist, not to pull his choking hand away, but to hold it in place. Fuck. He loved that you loved this. 

“You did great, baby.” He whispered into your ear. “You did so so well.” 

“A…” He loosened his grip when you failed to speak. “Aren’t you going to reward me then?” 

“Of course I am.” He pulled back, fully letting you go, supposedly to allow you to breathe again. But before you could, hand on your head, he pushed you down, forcing you onto your knees. As you quickly stripped out of his favourite jacket, placing it under you to cushion you from the cold floorboard, he unbuttoned his pants, getting ready for your mouth, his favourite place to be. Within seconds, you took over, pulling his pants down and his dick out, spitting in your hand before stroking it slowly. Joshua slapped your hand away and slipped his thumb between your lips prying your mouth open as he pushed his dick into your mouth. 

“Fuck,” He threw his head back. He had missed this warmth of you, wrapped around him. “That’s it baby, that feels fucking good.”

Pleased with yourself, you hummed around his girth and without a warning, his hand finding the back of your head, Joshua pushed himself further in, your sound of surprise lost in your throat. You didn’t struggle too hard to take him all the way in, afterall, Joshua had been here a hundred times already. When he noticed you were running out of breath, he pushed himself just a little further before completely pulling out, throwing you into a coughing fit. Looking at you disappointedly, he shook his head, 

“You can do better baby.” He tilted your face up. “Don’t you want to do better for me?” 

Nodding eagerly, you took him in your mouth again, bobbing your head around his length just the way he liked it, just the way he had trained you to pleasure him. Without him even needing to say it, you clasped your hands behind you, only your mouth working vigorously, alternating between blowing him fast and letting him deep in your throat. Grinning at you, Joshua wrapped your ponytail around his hand, jerking his hips forward to match your pace, finding his orgasm building in him much sooner than usual. 

Of course it did. Joshua was unusually happy today - afterall, everything he intended went according to plan. He had supposedly solved all six of those never ending missing cases, he had secured his promotion and no one even found out that he was the real killer. 

Throwing his head back, he groaned as you skillfully let him so deep in, your nose nearly touching his groin, your face reddening. Dragging you off his cock, he looked down at you impressed, receiving your fucked out expression in return - eyes blown, drool leaking from the corners of your lips, mouth still open, waiting for more. Chucking, he stroked himself. 

“Strip.” 

And you did, pulling your gown over your head, tossing it somewhere far. Then you unclasped your bra, your perfect boobs spilling out of the cups as Joshua felt his mouth water from the sight of it. He had missed them so bad and by the end of tonight, he was going to irrevocably mark them as his. When you looked at him questioningly about taking off your underwear, he shook his head and pushed you against the wall by your shoulders, the back of your head softly hitting the concrete. Knowing what he was going to do next, you obediently stilled as he held your face with both his hands and, god did he fuck it like there was no tomorrow. 

This was what Joshua loved about you the most - you never complained. Anything he gave, you took it oh so well, beyond his expectations, always proving just how devoted you were to him. That was why he was able to use you as the perfect instrument to orchestrate his scheme. Without you, there was no way he would have been able to secure that promotion and get out of this town. 

He had committed too many crimes here, lingered for too long and if he had spent any longer, he knew the chances of him being caught were high. Although he was meticulous in choosing his victims and ensured they had no family or friends to notice their absence, six out of ten of them had landed on his table regardless. Just looking at the case files annoyed him. How the fuck was he supposed to get promoted if solving the very crimes he committed was the only way to deem him worthy? That meant Joshua needed someone else to take the fall, he needed a scapegoat and a story. 

And that’s what everything so far was. Joshua spun an unimaginable, unbelievable story and centered it around you, his main character. He made you a meek, scared and vulnerable woman, just the kind that good old officer Hong would fall for while he himself played a well crafted role - a man tired of unsolvable cases finding his last ray of hope in a woman he happened to fall for. Being a part of a moral battle, guilt tripping his ex-girlfriend into handing him the promotion and coming out of all this with his love being victorious was just the icing on the cake. It was actually all too easy - the accurate decoding of his team’s psyche was what drove the whole plot. 

He knew most of them were highly superstitious and the idea of spirits would terrify them enough to believe your tale. Although the idea of spirits was absurd and haunting, in a small town like this a touch of the supernatural was precisely what was required to get everyone on the edge, to make coincidences believable, to make the unreal seem real. He knew you wouldn’t mess this up - he spent hours telling you about each victim, making you memorise their appearances, their habits, their stories. He trusted you to do a good job, but it was Ji Ho who was the wild card, the one he had taken a risk with. 

Joshua knew Ji Ho being the realist that she was, would never believe the idea of ghosts and would look only for solid facts and evidence. That’s why he had very meticulously planted your DNA in all ten sites, well aware that his ex-girlfriend would immediately suspect you. He wasn’t trying to trap you, no no, you were his favourite doll - he just needed to somehow introduce the twin twist, his most brilliant plot point. 

Joshua was also well aware of Ji Ho's addiction to that stupid Spanish show - it was only a matter of time before she had a lightbulb moment and considered the idea of you having a twin. From there, it was a cake walk - he had already spent months ensuring your sister did not have significant alibis. Thanks to her drug addiction, she was already naturally sketchy, often aloof and most importantly, frequently unaware of her actions and locations. With the deletion of a few CCTV footages, and ripping up some parking tickets and restaurant bills, Joshua had made sure she had no solid evidence to back her innocence. Her being found in a state too far gone to vouch for the truth was no coincidence too - he had been secretly supplying her with stronger than usual doses of drugs for a while now.

And that’s how things went down exactly like he planned - an innocent person was sitting in jail, waiting to be tried for crimes she didn’t commit while here he was, promoted, free and fucking the mouth of the woman undeniably devoted to him. 

Joshua focused his gaze on you, tears running down your cheek, the back of your throat most definitely bruised but you didn't ask him to stop. Instead you contracted your throat around him, drawing out those tell tale groans as he felt himself nearing his high. With a swift movement he let you go and pulled himself out, jerking himself hard as you waited for him patiently, mouth hanging open. The moment you stuck your tongue out desperately, Joshua came, spurts out white coating your tongue, spilling out of the corner of your mouth, down to your boobs. His chest heaved, much like yours, as he took a step back, letting go his softened length as he glanced at you. His masterpiece, the queen on his chessboard. 

Slowly walking back he pulled up a chair, kicking his pants off before settling down on it. He wanted to pause this, let you catch your breath but the ironic thing was, you yourself didn't want to stop. Getting ready to crawl to him, you leaned forward but Joshua shook his head.

“Take a minute baby.” 

You pouted. “I don't want to.” 

“I know but I need to.” He chuckled, looking pointedly at his currently semi hard length. “Do you want to play with yourself till then?” 

Nodding eagerly, you rested back against the wall, spreading your legs out wide, displaying your nearly soaked underwear for him to see. Fuck. Was that how wet you were from just sucking him off? Joshua bet he would slide all the way in with ease and god did he want to. But he could wait - he had all night to wreck you. 

Raising your hips slightly, you pulled your panties, dragging it down your leg, tossing it to join the rest of your clothes. Sucking two fingers, you slid them along the folds, rubbing and spreading them, soft moans leaving your mouth. Joshua could already feel the blood rush down to his dick again. But not yet, he wanted to savour this sight first. 

He watched as you reached for your clit, putting some much needed pressure on it as your head fell back, breath getting shaky and ragged as the feeling built in you. Your free hand found your boobs, squeezing it hard, the remnants of Joshua's cum smearing filthily. The man almost gave in, ready to rail you into tomorrow when coincidentally, the chime of the clock echoed in the room, indicating it was midnight. 

You stopped moving, eyes glancing at the clock before turning to him, lips breaking into a sweet smile. 

“Happy birthday Shua.”

Cocking his head at you, Joshua returned your smile. 

“Happy birthday to you too sweetheart.”

The two of you sharing birthdays, Joshua didn't know whether to call it fate or a lucky coincidence but it was this similarity that drove the entire plot. It all started 4 months ago when he was looking for his next set of victims. He had just finished up with that old woman, Ye Soon, and frankly, all his targets were getting incredibly easy, serving him no excitement, no thrill. 

He had stopped by at the gas station one day, hopping over to the store to buy a pack of gum when he overheard a bunch of young women chattering away about how the end of the year was packed with back to back parties - first with the Mayor's daughters birthday on the 30th, then new years on the 31st. Joshua had smiled to himself. What a perfect way to end the year indeed - a significant figure like the Mayor's daughter would definitely raise the stakes. Oh it would be so fun. 

And fun it was. 

The Mayor's daughter was a beautiful girl and stalking her was more exciting than Joshua anticipated. He didn't think it would be this easy to follow her around but she had an affinity for running away and falling in trouble. Oh she was perfect. But that was something else that was a little more interesting than the silly shenanigans she was up to - Joshua wasn't her only stalker, you were too.  

At first, Joshua thought his eyes were playing tricks. The two of you were strikingly similar, but as far as he knew, the Mayor only had one daughter, not twins. Upon throwing himself into a little more research, Joshua found out about how the two of you grew up in an orphanage but were adopted into different families and to his luck, you were actually a part of his town. Something told him having you on his side might just make all the difference.  

So he began with meeting you almost regularly at the bee farm you worked in. Not many people dropped by there given the bees were quite terrifying but those tiny things were nothing for Joshua, he had bigger things to focus on. Given he was the only person you saw nearly everyday, a friendship began blossoming between the two of you and you slowly started opening up to him, telling him about your life. About how you hated your sister, how you were the one the Mayor wanted to adopt but she had locked you in the storeroom while she took your place and left to live a life full of luxuries. You on the other hand were taken in by two farmers who were negligent, unbothered and died very early in your life in a car crash. Since then you grew up isolated, constantly looking at your sister's life bitterly, knowing that it should have been yours. 

Joshua's joy knew no bounds when he discovered the tumultuous relationship between you sisters. Oh this could be his most elaborate scheme yet, so many birds to hit with one stone. But the first and most important thing he needed for that was for you to be irrevocably in love with him. 

Surprisingly, that was the easiest part. All it took was some praise, some attention and a few sessions of love making - within a month, you were ready to do or die for him. Then all he did was feed you his sorrows - talk about how he wasn't getting a promotion because his ridiculous ex was interfering in his workplace, about how he needed to do something exemplary to climb the ranks. That's how he had convinced you to do this stint - you promised you'd go to any extent for him and in exchange, Joshua promised you revenge. This was your chance to get back at your sister for ruining your life. 

You did however keep asking him who the real killer was. Joshua knew you were head over heels for him, but he wasn't sure if you'd really stick through something as dark as his past. He didn't want to take the chance before his plan came to fruition. But now as he observed you looking up at him with earnest eyes as you fingered yourself, he wondered if you were ready to know more. Sure you listened to everything he said, going faster when he instructed you, stopping when he asked you to, even though you were almost about to cum, you loved him enough to listen. But was it enough to handle more?

He could find out about that later, right now he had enough of looking at you pleasuring yourself, he needed to be inside you urgently. 

“Come here.” 

Standing up immediately, you walked over to him as Joshua fixed his eyes between your legs, at the arousal dripping down your inner thigh. Using your own fingers, he collected your release, slipping them into his mouth, relishing the taste of you. No matter how many times he had eaten you out and made you scream on his tongue, every time felt heavenly. 

Grabbing you by the thighs he pulled you closer and you already knew what you had to do. Turning around, you leaned back against him, grabbing his dick from behind and aligning it with your wanting hole before sinking down on it slowly. 

“It doesn't matter how many times I fuck you.” Joshua groaned, relishing the way your walls fluttered around him. “You're still so tight.” 

You didn't say anything in response, it didn't seem like you could, not with his dick so far in you. 

“Fuck yourself on me baby.” He whispered, his grip on your waist bruisingly tight. “This is your reward.” 

Muttering a string of thank yous, you began moving, rotating and rocking your hips, wantonly squeezing him tight. Joshua knew you were trying to reach for those sensitive spots so he let you, biting and sucking on the soft skin of your shoulder instead, leaving a trail of red. When you began clamping around him unbelievably tightly, he landed a warning smack on your ass.

“Move.”

And you did, bouncing up and down his length vigorously, pouring your everything into it, loud moans tumbling out of your mouth. Squeezing your boob hard, he trailed his hand up your chest, wrapping it around your neck, holding you against him while his other hand found your clit, drawing figure eights. It didn't take you much to fall apart around him considering you had already fucked yourself on your fingers for a while. Joshua could feel your arousal dripping down his length as he continued to thrust his length up. 

“Sensitive…” You whined, holding his hand tight, when he just wouldn't stop. “Shua please…” 

“Shh.” He muttered, pushing you off him much to your surprise before getting up himself and throwing you onto the chair instead, your knees on the seat as your hands held the backrest. Joshua stripped out of his shirt tossing it aside before he smacked you again hard, thrusting himself much deeper inside. 

“Fuck, shua….it's too much.” You nearly cried as he began to snap his hips into you, your orgasm blending into another one. 

“Come on baby.” He softly nibbled on your ear in complete contrast to how roughly he was pounding into you. “Don't I deserve a gift too?”  

You didn't complain after that, only graphic moans and whines escaping your lips. This was the best birthday he could have asked for - here he was finally fucking you after so many days and there, your sister, his final victim was taking her last breath. 

Joshua thought it was rather beautiful, the way it all came to an end. He knew your sister couldn't go more than a few hours without her usual drugs so he had made sure she had access to a little secret stash that she could sniff on when no one was looking. Little did she know, Joshua had poisoned it. 

Not only that, he had also managed to slip a thin folded paper into her pants just before she was thrown in the cell. It read that she was guilty for all ten crimes and was incredibly repentful - she didn't think she deserved to live. That was his final victim of the year - another death on the 30th, another death on their birthday. 

There was no particular reason why Joshua picked this date or why it had to be their birthday - he simply wanted to create a pattern, see if anyone could crack it, if anyone was smarter than him. So far, it seemed like nobody was even close. Perhaps, only after he died and as per requested in his will, if his diary was published as a book, would people know exactly what he was capable of. For now, he alone revelled in and celebrated his intelligence. Maybe you if you were strong enough for it. 

Perhaps not, Joshua wondered as he glanced at you, sound slowly reducing as you inched closer to passing out. Gripping your hips tighter he began fucking you harder and faster, pushing himself to finish before you blacked out. Recognising his pace becoming erratic as he neared his climax, you looked over your shoulder. 

“I haven't been taking the pill for a while Shua…” 

He groaned, not stopping his thrusts. “You know how much I love cumming inside you.” 

“Shua please…” You could barely manage to beg him to stop. Your body had been pushed beyond its limit. 

Owing to your silence, he groaned, jerking his hips, once, then again and then he came, white coating your walls as he emptied himself into you. You fell forward, spent and exhausted as Joshua pulled out, watching his cum drip out of you. 

Fuck. You were perfect. 

This was perfect. 

Everything was perfect. 

It was probably the wee hours of the morning when you woke up, your throat hurting and dry. You rolled your head to the side finding Joshua fast asleep beside you on the bed. He had dragged you here for round two, fucking you into oblivion before moving to round three where he slowly made love, dumping load after load in you. Thankfully, he cleaned you up before sleeping - you had passed out the moment the two of you were done. 

You slipped out of the bed slowly so as to not disturb him, desperate for a glass of water. Stretching, you grabbed the spare blanket and wrapped it around your naked body. Struggling to walk thanks to how sore you were all over you made your way to the kitchen, flipping the switches and bit back a scream. 

Stranding by the counter was an old woman, leaning against it, looking at you like she was waiting for you. Instinctively you grabbed a knife from the nearby drawer, pointing it at her threateningly. 

“W-who are you? And what-” 

“You know who I am.” She said, straightening and stepping closer to the window. Your eyes widened. That was impossible - it was as though the moonlight was passing through her. You ran your eyes over her features. She had white hair, her back was bent weirdly, there was a burn mark on her hand….. Ye Soon. 

“Oh Y/n,” She took a step forward. “Don't you want to know who the actual killer is?” 

You continued to stare, jaw slightly hung, still unable to fathom what was happening. The spirits were a story the two of you had spun, how could it be…

“Who are you talking to?”

You turned around sharply at the sound of Joshua’s voice. He walked out, dressed in his pants, rubbing his eyes as he looked at you confused. 

He couldn't see Ye Soon. 

“You wanted to know the killer didn't you?” The old woman's voice was right by your ear. “Look, there he is.” 

Your eyes widened, grip on the knife tightening as you stared at the man before you wordlessly. Joshua frowned, his eyes flickering between the knife and you as his eyes narrowed. 

Outside, the loud sirens of the ambulance heading towards the precinct resounded in the otherwise quiet town. It seems the story of the Calendar Killer had finally come to an end.

A/n - If you have made it all the way here, thank you for reading, I know it was intense and heavy but I hope you enjoyed it! Do let me know your thoughts in the comments or tags, particularly about the twist - I need to know if my crazy mind managed to pull this off or not

[starmocha]

I took one for the team and retraumatized myself by reading Sylus' myth again, specifically to understand the memory, Abyssal Blossom, since... there is a bit of confusion about what it means, and I made a reference to it in this post. I'll be covering the event leading up to the memory and the aftermath.

@unluckywisher @lavlynyan I have some distressing news 😔😔😔

SPOILERS FOR SYLUS' MYTH - BEYOND CLOUDFALL, CHAPTERS 6-8 + ABYSSAL BLOSSOM MEMORY

[Quick recap of end of chapter 6]

Sylus had been injured by MC after succumbing to his instincts and attacking her in The Sanctuary, causing her to act in self-defense and unwittingly summoning the greatsword. They're both horrified by their actions, and as soldiers arrive, MC hides Sylus from them. Sylus isn't even fazed by his injuries. He is more horrified that the curse almost came true and he almost killed her.

He flies away to Tarus City.

CHAPTER 7

Words spread that the Fiend is gravely injured, so every single opportunist is hunting Sylus down, hoping to be the one to make the kill

MC hides among the crowd to search for him, and eventually, she recalls the blind merchant's information that "The Fiend and his destined archnemesis will meet at a black chapel".

MC finds Sylus there gravely injured and barely conscious.

As she tries to stop his bleeding, he awakens and tries to attack her, still under the influence. MC does manage to get through to him.

At this point, though, the voice in MC's head is also urging her to kill him and devour him. Sylus awakens and taunts her about their destiny, to which she rejects vehemently.

They both confront one another about why 1) Sylus saved MC from the Abyss in the beginning even though he knew they were destined to kill one another 2) Sylus questions MC why she didn't kill him earlier. They both know the answers.

MC rejects her destiny and declares that she will save him instead. She starts to resonate with him and heal his wound.

Sylus: Save me? Are you aware of the cost? Once we hold hands now, our lives will be bound together, along with our deaths. We must offer half of our soul to the other. They'll be merged... to forge an unbreakable bond. To share your life with a fiend—it might be a punishment worse than having your soul devoured. Will you truly not regret it?

MC: I said I'Il live, didn't I? No matter the cost. If following our hearts is a sin, then you and I must be the last of our kind in this world.

Sylus: In that case.. Stay by my side until the end of time.

They fall asleep in the chapel—in each other's embrace with Sylus shielding them from the cold with one of his wings.

CHAPTER 8

This is where it gets a little murky about what is reality, a memory, or a fantasy. Unfortunately, I am going to be leaning towards Abyssal Blossom is a fantasy MC made up to cope with the guilt and pain of Sylus being gravely injured because of her as well as the trauma of their fated demise. (Note: Sylus is not dead in this scene) [ETA: This scene is also the dream main story MC has in Continuous Symphony.]

The next scene is exactly that. A fantasy. She imagines she and Sylus decorating the chapel and making it more homey. She even presents Sylus with a present: a flower crown she had made after gathering the few flowers available in Tarus City.

Sylus: So you stayed up late these past few nights to make this?

MC: ...You didn't sleep either?

Sylus: Do you like flowers?

MC: Yes, I guess. But there aren't a lot in Tarus City. I had to scour the entire woods to get this much.

Sylus: The forest barely has any flowers.

MC: What do you mean—

Sylus: Hold on tight.

[Sylus carries her and flies away. Abyssal Blossom kindled scene begins.]

As this is continuing from the scene MC fantasizes about making the chapel a home, unfortunately, it does point to Abyssal Blossom as being a fantasy as well.

In the end, MC herself does acknowledge that this was indeed a fantasy.

As MC is kept imprisoned in the courtyard of the Sanctuary, Sylus occasionally visits her. She notices his injuries are healing.

When she asks Sylus why he didn't wake her all the other nights she fell asleep waiting for him, he reveals this:

Once again, this seems to point at Abyssal Blossom as being nothing more than a dream MC had.

MC also counters and questions if Sylus had ever dreamt of her. They banter back and forth a little bit, before MC switches the conversation.

MC: Since you've taken half of my soul…Even if the world turns its back on you, I'll always stand by your side. You're not even allowed to think about leaving me. Sylus: All right.

MC says they should make a pinky promise: To never betray each other.

In conclusion: FUCK DESTINY. FUCK THE STUPID CURSE. AND ALSO FUCK THAT CUNT THE SACRED JUDICATOR. I'm gonna go cry myself to sleep now. Good night 😔

[sideysvault]

𓍼ོ Ad Astra Per Aspera 𓍼ོ (PT. 3)

Preservation

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

wc: 1015k

Tags: [sfw] Arranged marriage, slow burn, angst, mentions of dead, mature themes, enemies to lovers, hurt, comfort.

full series masterlist. read part four

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“You must indulge me and carry a weapon with you. You are my wife now. That implies risk in these circumstances”.

The Princess couldn’t help herself, she blurted out a laugh as she playfully —not without a hint of cruelty, of course— added “Are you having delusions of power again, dear husband? We are not the ones responsible for the royal lineage, remember?”.

Aemond snapped his tongue in annoyance, forgetting everything he was taught on the matter of manners and polite diplomacy. It was always the same with her, the constant bickering, her vain mockeries. He was sure it was some kind of delusional defense against the act of political marriage, because he had seen her be nothing but sweet towards Heleana and his niece. Despite knowing that fact, he still felt that their differences and her inclinations towards confrontation constituted an act of personal defiance. 

On the other hand, his wife was tired of his constant oscillation between coldness and strange tenderness, he had been cruel to her about their lineage, and now was he seeking to protect it? 

Whatever spell had been cast upon them on that dreadful night, whichever feelings were discovered, however warm their touch had felt to one another, it was now undoubtedly broken. 

She knew that despite being feared and undermined, Prince Aemond was also passably seasoned in the art of war, and of civility at court. She did not consider these traits to be of great merit, as even a chimpanzee would be considered to be formal and of considerable intelligence if it stood directly beside The King.  The Princess was not entirely sure where his urgency was coming from, but, knowing of The Queen's Dowry’s great cunning expertise in Machiavellian machinations, she was not sure if she should be afraid.

She scoffed out loud without meaning to. His paranoia must be rubbing off. Aemond seemed offended, as he exclaimed with irritation “You of all people must know what happened. We ought to do what we can to protect ourselves against the enemies of the crown“.

While it was true that the white cloaks wasted the entirety of their time drunk on wine and whores, the truth was that she felt safe with her husband. She would have never said it out loud, of course. Much less to Aemond himself. But she simply could not deny that he was fairly capable with the sword, childishly paranoid and positively ruthless. The Princess really felt no need to arm herself like a scared lamb. And she told him so. “Such displays are in bad taste”. 

This was his time to mock her with a snort. 

“Being precautionary is in bad taste now?, I had not yet been enlightened with that information” The Princess frowned. She was still getting used to her husband biting back, instead of his usual annoyed and quiet nature. 

“It merely functions as a cry of desperation, not to mention it announces a lack of control within the own walls of your home”

The Prince, clearly tired of the back and forward, tiredly stated “Well, let it be small then. Conceal it if you wish, but we must start being careful”.

She felt a pinch of guilt. On some days —such as this one—, she wondered why she always had to put her worst face forward with him. She naturally had her reasons, but most of the time, when he was not ignoring her, she could tell he was making an effort to be cordial. 

“Why are you so suddenly preoccupied with my well-being?” The change of tone in his wife's voice confused him. The serious ring to it was suddenly replaced with a playfully lighthearted one. Noticing his discomfort, The Princess tries a new strategy, while exaggerating her inflections slightly, she dramatically sits on the arm of the chair in which her husband rested and grabbed his cup. “Oh! Husband. You must stop drinking that tea immediately” It was wine “If I knew you loved me that much I would’ve never poisoned it” Evidently charmed by her own ingenuity, The Princess laughs at her own joke as he rolls his eyes with a small smile on his lips. 

He took the opportunity which her proximity granted him to look at her. On a good mood, with that smooth and resolved attitude of hers, and the smile, and the way her hair ran through her slightly exposed shoulders… He stopped his sequence of thoughts before it was too late, and he lost all ability to do so.

His strong features recovered their sobriety soon enough though, as he whispered to her “Heleana and Jaehaera will suffer greatly if something were to happen to you”

The Princess, unable to control her body's reactions, rapidly felt her face feverishly enraged with embarrassment. Not knowing what to answer, she simply instinctively began to fidget with the baroque embroidery of her dress's sleeves. It was certainly true that she has not been any careful about her new-found relationship with the queen. She knows that if he ever uses it against her, there is no one to blame but herself for it. 

She gazed at her husband. He was strikingly handsome, especially under the dim lights which always seemed to highlight his cheekbones, especially when his silver hair reflected the moonlight of the marital chamber, especially when he was being kind. The Princess sighed.  

“If you are so bent upon the matter, I suppose I ought to comply. But it must be discrete”.

A wide grin appeared on his face; Cunning, triunfant. He carefully put his wine cup on an improvised protective cover her wife had made In an effort to stop hearing his winning about dust and marks on the table. She smiled.

Prince Aemond got up, ceremoniously bowed towards her, and buttoned his garment before making his way to the door. Before he left, he slowly turned around to see her one more time, just once. He gazed at her and proudly stated “I promise. As small as the pen you write your stories with, dear wife.”

Dear Gods. He could be such an annoying bastard. 

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Notes: THANK YOU! The comments and re-blogs really do bring me so much joy. Here is a short but sweet chapter in order to celebrate that i got into one of my target unis! I am beyond happy. During these moments of stress being on tumblr has been a safe heaven. Anyways, as always, take care! -Sidey xx

Dedicated to the sweet @immyowndefender and @theresalwaysquotes whose comment really made me smile

[pamwritessometimes]

Tuesday’s Gone — Chapter 8

Russell Shaw x Reader

Summary: When the police does little to no help to find your missing daughter, you are forced to contact Colter Shaw. What you don’t expect is how his investigation will reveal secrets about both your past and your daughter’s, in ways you never imagined.

Warnings: angsty fluff, otherwise none? let me know if i missed something!

Title’s based on Tuesday’s Gone by Lynyrd Skynyrd.

Catch up on Chapter 7 here

Tuesday's Gone masterlist

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Once the doctors gave you the green light, you and Emma were officially discharged. Emma was practically bouncing out of there, her tiny hand clutched around Russell’s like he was her personal superhero. She’d decided in about five seconds after she learned that he was her dad that he was her new favorite person.

Convincing Russell to let the hospital staff check him out had been a whole different saga. It took some serious persuasion, mostly from you and a lot from Emma – her best pout and puppy-dog eyes could probably end a world war if used correctly, so Russell didn’t stand a chance. He didn’t give much away about how the exam went, but the scowl on his face as he emerged from the exam room told you all you needed to know. Whatever they'd said, he wasn’t a fan.

You had a pretty good idea why.

You could still picture his body, covered in scars and marks, like a patchwork quilt made from bad decisions and even worse luck. Each scar told a different story – some small, some big, all of them like little chapters in a book he’d never let anyone read. It was like looking at a piece of modern art, if modern art was made from pain and survival instead of fancy paint strokes and pretentious meanings. There were burns that looked like they came from some kind of fire he’d never mentioned, cuts that hinted at fights he’d never bothered to explain, and old bruises that had long since faded but never really went away. When you thought back on it, you realized it should’ve been obvious he wasn’t who he said he was.

Construction worker, my ass, you thought.

But you were too busy buying the story, too busy being swept up in the charm and the confusion to notice the signs. Now, looking back, it was like one of those plot twists in a movie you didn’t see coming.

But you hadn’t known better. And now? Now, it didn’t really matter either.

Emma, hand firmly clutching Russell’s, skipped ahead of him, her energy almost back to normal. Almost. There were still a few hints of what she'd been through in the way she glanced around, the way her eyes would linger a second too long on a stranger. But it was getting better. She was healing, and so were you. In a weird way, it felt like a fresh start. Maybe this time, it wouldn’t all fall apart.

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You were back in Idaho Falls. 

It had been a couple of weeks since you’d clawed your way out of that nightmare you’d rather forget – and bury six feet deep. But your brain? Yeah, it had other plans. It was stuck on a loop, replaying the worst moments like a twisted director’s cut. Honestly, even Hitchcock would’ve taken a bow and said “Bravo!” The suspense, the drama, the way it all spiraled out of control… honestly, the whole thing could’ve been an Oscar-worthy thriller if it wasn’t your life.

And, okay, maybe you’d gotten a little paranoid about leaving Emma alone. Alright, maybe more than a little. But come on, who could blame you? You knew the danger was over, logically, but paranoia wasn’t exactly known for its rationality. Every time you even thought about giving Emma a little space, that nagging voice would whisper, What if? and boom, you were back in full-on protective mode.

As much as you hated to admit it, though, you weren’t navigating this tightrope of anxiety alone. Russell had been… well, there. A lot. Not living with you, though, and that, of course, confused the hell out of Emma.

“Why? Daddies are supposed to live with their families!” she’d declared, pouting like it was written in the stars, a law of the universe that no one could break.

But reality wasn’t so neat. There were years of unresolved baggage between you two, enough to make even the most optimistic couples’ counselor break out in a cold sweat and quietly back out of the room. Moving in together? That wasn’t just a leap – it was more like an Evel Knievel stunt. High risk, no safety net, and plenty of ways to crash and burn. Not yet, and maybe not ever.

Still, Russell had clearly decided that proximity was his job. He was there nearly every day, and on more than a few nights, too. 

“Just in case” he’d say. You didn’t know, but he loved staying there when the both of you were sound asleep. During those times, he felt an indescribable peace. 

And then there was his latest obsession: fixing everything. It started innocently enough – he noticed a cabinet door hanging loose and gave it a quick tune-up. Then he spotted the wobbly bathroom doorknob. Before long, the guy was like a one-man Home Depot commercial, patching up squeaks and quirks you hadn’t even realized were annoying you.

And at first, you didn’t even notice. But one day, you walked into the kitchen, and something felt... off. Not bad-off, just different. Quieter. 

The cupboards didn’t bang shut anymore, the sticky drawer slid like butter, and that creaky floorboard by the living room? Silent. It was like Russell had decided that if he couldn’t fix all your problems, he’d settle for conquering your house.

And the worst part? It was kind of working.

It wasn’t just Russell who practically set up camp in your life after everything that happened. Your family had decided to make sure you and Emma were okay by showing up unannounced on a daily basis. Whether it was Anna, your mom, or your dad, someone was always stopping by to “check in.” But you knew that was just code for “making sure you hadn’t completely lost your mind.”

You didn’t blame them, though. What had happened wasn’t the type of thing you could just shake off, no matter how much you wished you could.

Colter had stopped by, too, not long after you got out of the hospital. And in his typical Colter way, he’d brought Emma a new Veterinarian Barbie – the exact same one she’d been playing with when she was taken. The one you had to leave behind at the warehouse, the one that now felt like a twisted keepsake of that night. That Barbie had somehow turned into a symbol of everything that went wrong, but Colter had a way of turning it into something better, lighter. He was trying, really trying, to be there for his newly found niece, like he wanted to make up for lost time.

Speaking of that warehouse nightmare, Colter had filled you in on what went down once you and Russell split up. Apparently, when you went up to check the upper floor, Colter stayed behind to look for clues on the ground level. Then he heard a bunch of grunting, some fighting noises, and the moment he rushed upstairs... poof, you two were gone. His next step was to follow the muddy footprints – Ecca boots, of course – all the way to a back exit where the trail just... disappeared.

He quickly reached for his phone, trying to call either of you, without any success. He then – almost desperately, he opened the Locations app and tried to see where Russell’s phone was. 

That’s how he found the building in Springland where all three of you were trapped in. And that’s how he found out that James Rourke was probably behind it. 

Apparently, Rourke had been the big boss over at Horizon’s Idaho branch. He also learnt that he used to be Russell’s superior and after learning about his shady businesses with the help of Reenie, he knew Rourke was behind all of this.Turns out, Rourke was involved in some shady business dealings, which Colter pieced together with a little help from Reenie. So, not only did Colter find out that Rourke was behind everything, but he also had a handy Sheriff’s connection in the town. He might not have been thrilled about it, but at that point? He didn’t have time to be picky. It was his brother and niece at risk.

“I really can’t thank you enough, Colter” you said as you pulled an envelope from your pocket. Before you could add the obligatory it’s not much, Colter held up a hand to stop you.

“Don’t even start with that” he said, nodding toward Emma, who was happily immersed in her new doll set. Russell, much to his apparent dismay, had been assigned the role of the dog for Barbie’s vet checkup.

A small smile tugged at Colter’s lips as he looked back at you, letting out a sigh. “She’s family… and so are you” he said simply. Then after a beat, he added with a wry shake of his head, “Though, I’ll admit, it’s still a little hard to wrap my head around.”

You held the envelope out anyway, giving him your best no-nonsense look. “Colter, seriously. Take it.”

He glanced at it like it was a snake about to bite him. “Nope. Not happening.”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “Alright, fine. If you’re gonna be stubborn, at least stay for dinner. That’s non-negotiable.”

Colter raised an eyebrow, clearly trying to decide if he wanted to argue with you. “Dinner, huh?”

“Yup” you said, tilting your chin up. “It’s the least we can do. Plus, Emma’s so excited to show you her other barbies. You wouldn’t want to break her heart, would you?”

Emma perked up from the floor, where she was busy trying to get Russell-as-dog to sit still. “It’s so cool! You gotta see it, Uncle Colter!”

Colter sighed, his shoulders relaxing in defeat. “Alright, alright. You win. Dinner it is.”

“Good choice” you said with a grin, slipping the envelope back into your pocket. “And just so you know, I make a mean lasagna.”

Russell, still stuck in his ridiculous dog pose, chimed in from the floor. “She’s right. It’s downright addictive.” He then glanced over at the doll set with a raised brow. “Wait a second. Is that… a dog in the kit? Why am I the dog when there’s a perfectly good toy for the job?”

Emma giggled mischievously and scrambled to block his view, clutching the box like a tiny defense lawyer. “No, there isn’t!” she insisted, her grin giving her away entirely.

“Oh, really?” Russell said, narrowing his eyes like he was about to cross-examine a witness. “Then what’s that little plastic furball right there?” He reached for the set, but Emma squealed, pulling it out of reach and scurrying behind Colter for safety.

“It’s not a dog!” she said, clutching the box like it held national secrets. “It’s… it’s a cat in disguise!”

Russell dropped his hands dramatically. “A cat in disguise. Well, excuse me for not being on the cutting edge of veterinary espionage.”

Colter chuckled lightly, shaking his head at the absurd scene before him. “Kid’s got you wrapped around her finger.”

“Tell me about it” Russell muttered, going back to his dog duties with a theatrical groan. Emma just beamed, clearly victorious in her completely made-up argument.

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The cold drink in your hand grounded you in the peace of the moment. It was quiet. The only sound in the room was the beers’ sizzling from their glasses. Across the room, your Tiffany lamp bathed the room in a warm glow, making everything feel a little softer. Dreamier.

Next to you, Russell sat on the couch, staring down at his beer like it might give him answers. He’d gone quiet, which wasn’t exactly new. These late-night moments always seemed to pull him deep into his own thoughts.

Dinner with Colter had gone surprisingly well. Actually, better than well. Great, if you measured it in Shaw-family terms. He’d looked awkward at first, but Emma had done her thing. She had a talent for making people feel like they belonged. She’d taken one look at him and decided to get to know “the guy with Daddy’s face but short hair.” By the end of the night, she’d even wrangled a promise out of him to come back soon. 

Whether he actually would? You wouldn’t bet on it. He didn’t exactly radiate family guy energy.

Not that you could blame him. In these quiet moments, Russell had told you bits and pieces about their family: how their dad raised them, why he and his brother weren’t exactly close, and even that he had a sister. That last part had been news to you, and it still hung in your mind. 

Then again, you didn’t even know Colter existed until about a week ago.

But hey, he didn’t know Emma existed until about a week ago, so who were you to judge? 

The night felt like an old familiar one, like five years ago when things were simpler. But now, everything was heavier. Everything was more. Still, you couldn’t deny that you appreciated the quiet, the feeling of just being here, with Russell beside you. Not a word needed to be said, just… existing.

Finally, you broke the silence. “Still thinking about opening that brewery?” you asked, watching him out of the corner of your eye.

Russell glanced up, surprised, like he hadn’t expected you to notice he was still breathing, let alone thinking. He let out a dry chuckle, leaning back against the couch. “You remember that?”

“Of course I do” you said, taking a sip. “You talked about it like it was your big shot. You even had a name ready. What was it again? Pour Decisions?”

He snorted, shaking his head. “God, no. That was your suggestion.”

“It was a great suggestion” you shot back with a playful grin.

“It was a terrible suggestion” he countered, but the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth told you all you needed to know. The other name you’d thrown out, Ale You Need Is Love, had clearly stuck with him a little longer than he’d admit. “And yeah” he continued, taking another long swig of his beer, “I’m still thinking about it.”

“Yeah?” you asked, eyeing your drink. “What’s stopping you now? You’re free from Horizon, probably sitting on a nice stack of cash from all those years with them…”

“Yeah, well… it’s not that simple” he said, taking another swig of beer. “It’s not just about the money. It’s time, connections… I’ve never really built anything that would stick. I’ve always just been movin’, never really settlin’ in.”

You glanced at him, noticing how his gaze was stuck on the fuzzy carpet beneath his feet. His words didn’t feel like they were about the brewery anymore, not entirely. “Maybe… it’s not too late to build those connections.”

His eyes flickered up to meet yours, and for a split second, you saw the conflict. He was debating whether to take this conversation in a whole new direction, one that would definitely touch on you and him – your relationship, or more like the mess of it. But after a moment, he let out a long breath, as if resigning himself to the truth. 

“I’m not sure the one I want to connect with is still there to hear me out.”

“Sometimes all you gotta do is try” you said, your voice was soft but honest.

Russell didn’t speak right away. His eyes flickered from his beer to the floor, like he was fighting with himself, deciding whether it was worth saying what he really needed to say. 

Finally, he let out a long, shaky breath and set his glass down on the coffee table. It was time to rip the band-aid off. 

“I don’t know–” His voice was quieter now, almost shaky. “I don’t know how to say any of this… Hell, if words can even make up for any of it.”

He stopped, eyes closing as he rubbed his hand across his face like he was trying to scrub away the years of regret. When he spoke again, his voice was thick with the weight of all the things he’d been carrying. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for leading you and Emma into all that… all that danger. For not telling you what was really going on. I’m sorry for keeping you in the dark for so long. I’m so sorry for all the times I wasn’t there. When you needed me. When Emma was born. God, I should’ve been there.”

His voice cracked then, and you could see the fight in him, like he was trying to hold it all together. He ran a hand through his hair, the guilt still weighing him down. “I’m so sorry for hurting you… I never, ever meant to do that. I... I just don’t know how to fix it, or where to start.”

You could hear the exhaustion in his voice, the years of building walls, of running away from the things that mattered most. And for the first time in a long time, it felt like he was really letting those walls down.

You sat there, the silence thick with his words, heavy as hell. Regret, apologies, lost time –it all hung in the air. You didn’t rush to fill it, though. You needed a minute to sort through what to say next.

Russell’s eyes were fixed on his hands, the muscles in his jaw clenched tight like he was bracing for a blow, waiting for you to throw it all back in his face.

But you didn’t. You knew he was battling himself just as much as he was battling you. And somehow, that made it harder. But also… maybe easier?

Finally, you spoke, your voice steady but quieter than you intended. “You can’t fix everything in one night, Russell.” You reached for your drink, taking a long sip, trying to steady your pulse, trying to steady everything. “Hell, you probably can’t fix everything, period. But that doesn’t mean you don’t try. And you tried. Hell, you’re still trying, from what I can see. You’re glued to this couch. This house. Didn’t even ask you to stay with us… yet, here you are. Because you care. Because you see that I’m a nervous wreck. Because you see Emma adores you and wants you around…”

You stopped yourself then. The words you didn’t want to admit to yourself started clawing their way out. I want you around too. The thought stuck in your throat, but you kept going. “From what I see, you’re not just trying – you’re learning. You’re making things right. And… I’m not saying I’m not still pissed at you, because God, I am. But... now, I see how it wasn’t just your fault. Not entirely. How everything turned out... that’s on me, too.”

You exhaled slowly, finally meeting his eyes, seeing the rawness in them that mirrored your own. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Emma… I’m sorry I didn’t even hear you out that night… I’m so sorry, too, Russ.”

His hands rubbed over his face, and when he looked at you again, you saw tears threatening to fall – tears he’d never let himself shed before. “You have nothing to be sorry for. It was just natural you reacted that way” he said. “You don’t have to forgive me, Y/N. I don’t even know if I deserve it. But… if there’s any part of you that thinks we can make this right, even a little…” He let out a shaky breath. “I’ll do whatever it takes. I swear.”

You set your drink down, the glass suddenly feeling like it weighed a ton. Without overthinking it, you reached out and rested your hand on his. His skin was warm, a little rough, and he froze the second you touched him, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to move. His eyes darted to the place where your skin met his.

You didn’t bother with words… sometimes they just got in the way. Instead, you leaned in, just enough to leave the door wide open. He caught on quick, letting out a slow, shaky breath before he closed the distance, like he’d been waiting for permission all along.

It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t rushed. His hand found the back of your neck, steady and warm, like he was afraid to push too hard, but couldn’t let go either. His lips on yours felt like a quiet promise, a way of telling you he wanted to make things right – even if he didn’t have all the words for it.

For a moment, it felt like all the years of hurt, anger, and regret hit the pause button. The kiss didn’t fix everything (hell, it didn’t fix a goddamn thing) but it cracked open the part of you that remembered: you still cared. And judging by the way he kissed you, so did he. 

You also realized something you didn’t want to before: you not only cared. You still loved him, deeply. Even after everything, you still longed for his touch, his presence.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. His breathing was uneven, like he’d just run a marathon. “I’m sorry, Y/N” he said, his voice full of that raw honesty you didn’t hear from him often. “But I’m here to stay, if you let me.”

You let out a small, shaky laugh. “It’s gonna take more than one good kiss to fix all this, Russ…”

“Good thing I’ve got time” he said, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. “And a lot more where that came from.” and with that he dwelled back into your lips.

You rolled your eyes, but before you could fire back, he closed the gap again, his lips finding yours like he was making a promise. This kiss wasn’t hesitant – it was steady. Like he was saying, Buckle up, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.

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Next on Tuesday's Gone (Sneak Peek from Chapter 9):

Before you knew it, you were in the bedroom, your blazer tossed somewhere on the floor along with his shirt. The rest of your clothes followed in a blur of fumbling hands and breathless laughter, the weight of the past two months – and the years before that – melting away with every touch.

When he finally had you beneath him, his gaze softened, the intensity giving way to something deeper. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your hands cupping his face. “I’m sure.”

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And… we’re going straight into the smut with the next one. (Alright, not exactly, but we’ll get there soon!)

Chapter 9 coming soon.

🤍Taglist🤍

@bitchykittenconnoisseur @smoothdogsgirl @spnfamily-j2 @winchesterwild78 @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @zepskies @kr804573 @sebastianstangirl01 @kmc1989 @drakelover78 @amberlthomas @lomlbuckybarnes @n-o-p-e-never

[itsbeenliketenyearsitsprettywild]

on tag responses and reply trains or: "click the readmore for my analysis of the the (mostly) Greek love terms that sum up jayvik and jaymel and also at some point i forget how to shut the fuck up and turn this into what might as well be a thesis paper on jaymel as a duo and How Mel Is Dedicated To Jayce Her Own Way"

starting from op @aurieeeeeenyx's tags that got me thinking:

#you mightve guessed that ive been listening to the hadestown soundtrack again recently#but anyways. jayce going back over and over and failing in timeline after timeline in the hopes that maybe this time. maybe just this once#he'll succeed and get his partner back#viktor putting the whole of his faith and trust in jayce that jayce will come back for him even though he fails again and again#but still viktor cannot imagine not believing in jayce one more time#the way the entire universe hangs in the balance of their bond oh man#i feel like jayvik is beyond categorization they're like the peak of classical romance which is not necessarily kisses and dating etc#but like the purest form of intimacy and affection. or something#i should write a fic abt this#anyways . idk . im a big fan of meljayvik so mel fits in here SOMEWHERE i just havent figured it out yet#if you made it to the bottom of this wall of tags here's a pie 🥧

(the last tag isn't exactly relevant, but hey. free pie 🥧) my response in the replies (with a few spelling edits):

moreso than calling what Jayce and Viktor have 'classical romance' (as such a phrase feel like it could be confused with the Romantic movement in the arts, which doesn't have much to do with love directly), I feel like it would almost be more accurate to describe it using the ancient (and a just few more modern) Greek terms for love. They already exist as a way to delineate the many types of love that can exist either combined or singular that can be part of a relationship between two people. (there's like eight or nine different Greek/Greek-derived words to categorize love at this point depending on who you ask, feel free to look 'em up yourself - there are six ancient Greek ones in there too. the Greeks have been dissecting love for a *very* long time) Of the types of love exhibited between Jayce and Viktor specifically, I think what you're getting at is that it's a bond which involves this incredibly beautiful blend of philia and agape, with a bit of mutual meraki as well. In actual English - their bond is made of deep personal affection on a mental/personality level (philia literally translates to 'soul connection') which isn't hurt by their shared love of creating/inventing new technology together. All of this being further boosted by the fact that they would anything for each other, even if it means damning themselves or other reallities in the process. I'd love to go into meljay as contrast, in large part because their relationship feels pretty unique in terms of what we see in media, but there's only so many characters allowed in a reply lol. feel free to ping me if you want me to put the rest of the deets on this or another post, though (and clarify you want it on a reblog instead of a reply if that's the case, as i default to replies otherwise)!

op's reply:

actually it's funny you say this because the romantic movement in the arts is pretty much what i had in mind just because of the like...aesthetic? i feel like it comes with a certain mood of sublime beauty and some mix of nature/humanity/passion/nostalgia while being both subdued and Not, which the jayvik finale sort of embodies to me if that makes sense (but then again i'm not an art connoisseur so i could be spouting total bullshit) i do agree with your analysis of their bond in the framework of greek terms for love and think that funnily enough it goes back to the orpheus and eurydice thing again (arcane when i come for you and your greek tragedies WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU--) sooo i guess i'll have to do some more research on that and i'd love to hear about your thoughts on meljay! if you feel comfortable i think a reblog might help more people see it (in which case you might need to put my notes and/or your comment as context to this admittedly very short post) but i don't mind either way :D

And, since the notes and comments have been placed, time to continue (I've been using this website for reference and been extrapolating best i can, but I'm no expert on the subject so feel free to correct me on it)

I honestly find JayMel really interesting to analyze from this perspective, because I feel like media doesn't show many relationships with this unique blend of loves, and especially not presented in a way where it's actually given some weight and value to both people within it. So, to start:

This list is very, very long, so let me this for the sake of everyone's sanity...

TL; DR - While Jaymel absolutely involves sexual attraction between the two of them (and is sometimes connected to these more casual, playful moments between the duo), those aren't nearly all the facets of their love. Some of the other types include: how they both enjoy working on Hextech (from the angles of technology and politics respectively), even if they sometimes have to make deals and do things with it they personally don't like; the surprisingly tentative yet compelling nature of their friendship together; the practical ways they (read; mostly Mel) are willing to help and support each other on a much more functional level, and how that in turn plays a very large part in letting them further emotionally connect with one another and deepen their bonds as people.

First (and most obviously), Mel and Jayce's dynamic obviously has a fair amount of eros in it. Eros can best be described as 'sexual love' or 'physical desire for each other' - the kind of love most people (largely allosexuals) assume are a part of "romantic" relationships by default, though one doesn't have to be a couple to act upon mutual eros. Either way, it's absolutely a part of their dynamic that deserves to mentioned and recognized - pretty sure none of us are going to forget the Sextech scene any time soon, and all. But that's only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to their dynamic.

In a fair few scenes where eros between them is evident, there's also pretty obviously some ludus going on. Ludus is one of the more modern categorizations love types, and describes 'playful love' - something more casual or carefree, no strings inherently attached, but a noted expression of affection all the same. You know that forge scene in season 1, where Mel sarcastically calls Jayce's smithing 'a delicate art' and she watches him sexily hammer out some metal, or at the end of that same scene, where she leans into him seductively... only to smack him in the tiddies with his own forge bolt and adds the one-liner, "Hold onto your nuts?" That absolutely reads as ludus following up on the eros within their dynamic. After all, ludus is the kind of love found in booty calls and one night stands, but could also just be enjoying a night out drinking with your pals. Which makes jaymel really interesting, considering the fact that it's also steeped in the opposite type of love....

....Which, in all honestly, I feel like I'll only be able to talk about once I've described meraki. You see, this and the next type of love seem pretty deeply entwined with one another when it comes to my categorizing and understanding of jaymel, but it feels like this is the one best needed to help describe the context of the other. Now, meraki one of the terms coined after the ancient Greeks, being a modern word that most people who don't speak Greek down know about. Essentially (and i could be wrong about the best term to use - but honestly i legitimately feel like this a type of love that shapes them, and don't know a better word to use), meraki is the love of creation, the love one pours into the act of making art or writing poetry or skillfully setting a table - or, best as i can sum all that up, a love of your work/what you do. And, lest we forget, the thing that brought them (alongside Viktor, though he's not the focus of this post) together is... well, Hextech. It's just that the work Jayce and Mel happen to be doing in relation to creating Hextech happen to be quite different in nature. Nonetheless they're both quite necessary for its creation to come to fruition. For Jayce, this 'love of creation' he has for hextech is quite literal - he's one of the two geniuses who invents, designs and very directly builds machines and technology that utilize Hextech within them, and it's obviously from the get go that he loves the idea of it so much that he dedicated his life to it (something something what that means in terms of what he said in the finale-). Mel, meanwhile, also loves Hextech and how she goes about creating it - but, in her case, she creates far less literally than how Jayce and Viktor do, though still plenty important. Because, for all the boys physically create the technology, it wouldn't be able to have nearly as much of an impact as it does if there wasn't someone politically advocating for its use and working for it to become societally integral. For all Viktor and Jayce may love making their gadgets and gizmos that utilize it, she's the one who loves it enough to build it up as A Brand and help get Jayce into top enough form that Hextech can even have its own seat on the council (no matter how much she regrets that decision almost immediately afterwards. But, it's this difference in terms of how they precisely they go about creating Hextech that can lead to a divide in how much they enjoy particular parts of shaping that leads to struggle in staying dedicated to specific parts of the process, which really comes down to their comfort with....

Pragma, or 'practical/dedicated love'. Pragma is the final love term coined after the time of Ancient Greece, and essentially acts as the complete opposite of ludus. While ludus is all about fun and in-the-moment playfulness, pragma is the love shown by doing what needs to be done to keep things functional, even if said actions are not particularly fun or enjoyable themselves. It's not the same thing as agape/'sacrificial' love, because it's not a case of being willing to throw everything just to keep this one person happy. These things are being done because they have to be done to make sure everything stays okay, not because the thing they love comes before absolutely anything else. Though it might seem boring (or maybe even selfish, if you compare it to agape in particular), it's a huge part of all kinds of relationships you can find between people, and says as much about nature of a dynamic as anything else. But, as stated, this type of love between Jayce and Mel is seen very specifically when it comes to their mutual love for Hextech and less directly for each other. In making Hextech and allowing it to flourish as a technology, steps have to be taken to ensure sponsors and investments, so that they never lose access to the resources required to continue working on it. As such, deals have to be cut and made, as seen in the concert scene, and continuing to make sure Jayce and Viktor's projects are properly funded is something they have to do over and over again just to keep things moving. In this sense, the main difference between the two of them in this context is the nuance of their meraki - for all they both enjoy creating Hextech in some way, the types of work they enjoy dedicating themselves to contrast quite a bit. For Jayce, politics and lobbying for funding are only a small part of what he does for Hextech - and not what he gravitate towards naturally, charismatic as he can be. To him, his love of is for the literal process - the one that Viktor both enjoy creating as a team moreso than they'll ever enjoy doing it alone. Meanwhile politicking and dedication to Hextech's social and financial success (which is where a lot of the pragma comes to the forefront) is what Mel enjoys doing - alone if necessary, but preferably with one of the creators of Hextech at her side, to have another hand on deck and a more direct face to associate with it. As such, it *does* make its own kind of sense that the duo (jayvik) whose meraki is almost identical have an time easier time bonding personality-wise (tho i do think Mel and Vik would have an easier time of it- *shoves my melvik-in-the-polycule headcanons in a box for later*), in comparison to the fascinatingly tentative nature of Jayce and Mel's....

Philia, or 'soul connection'. For all it sounds like a term for soulmates or such, what it really just means is that two people get along well with each other when it comes to general socializing and interaction. This is the type of love that underpins deep friendships, but also romantic couples that go beyond just being sexually compatible (or queerplatonic couples - sadly, the terms for love never developed in such a way to make it *easy* to differentiate aspec couples from other kinds of dynamics, but we work with what we got), or even just coworker who get along pretty well. And it's here in particular that I find jaymel compelling as we see them in the show, because, for all we see them work together well on Hextech and be playful with each other and Do The Fuck, their philia seems... surprisingly awkward, or at least not nearly as natural as it is for jayvik (or how i headcanon it would be for melvik). To be clear: you're allowed to headcanon jaymel as more naturally friendly than this, like how many people like to extrapolate jayvik out to include some level of eros (which, once again, not disparaging, just noting as not being shown in Arcane directly). But in terms of what we actually see in the show... jaymel has a bit of a hard time with getting close on an emotional level. Which i honestly really appreciate; the show doesn't invalidate the love that is there simply due to this fact, after all. All the other parts of their relationship exist and are recognized in the narrative while still letting the philia between them not come as naturally as everything else. People's personalities may end up with them clashing fairly often, but they can still be close anyways. (well, as long as they work at it - but I'll segue into that subcategory in a little bit.) And because of this, they're able to take a very fun option: showing some of these moments of tension or awkwardness between them, and letting us as the audience watch how the two navigate and end up resolving these moments. Though some of these moments do end up getting interrupted by a third party, which can end up impacting how these moments of tension end up getting resolved. (I'm looking at you, Viktor, for how you interrupted that moment between jaymel and instigated the season 2 council room fight. go to ur eldritch jesus shame corner /lh/j) Speaking of reaction: Mel and Jayce each have distinct ways of expressing emotional distress (at least most of the time - Mel lets herself get a lot more angry with her mother than she would otherwise). For Jayce, his reactions are what he's infamous for in fandom - impulsively jumping into action based on his current feelings without considering what consequences. (read: almost always not what he wanted.) Meanwhile, Mel tends to withdraw into herself and act more emotionally unaffected than she actually is - for example, how her reaction to Jayce leaving in the middle of the night after Sextech is to... well, paint, and respond relatively neutrally up until Jayce justifies his actions. But it's in resolving of these conflicts that the two of them are able to start building up their philia and comfort with each other (beyond their mutual focus on hextech or sex) into a deeper level of companionship. The reason why their philia is able to end up further developing is due to the active usage of...

Pragma, not within the framework of Hextech. You see, Hextech-focused pragma can quite often lead to added tension between them instead of anything getting resolved, as seen when Mel gets Jayce voted onto the council without asking him first. In comparison, many of the moments of pragma between them that aren't focused on Hextech itself often lead to to bonding moments between the two of them as individuals. (Which makes sense as talking about work, even if you like doing it, doesn't tend to lead to much personal emotional intimacy.) Alongside that, there's one other thing that differentiates these moments of pragma from those focused on Hextech directly: in those situations where willingly taking action leads to them getting closer, it's almost always Mel who takes the initiative. For Jayce, the vulnerability he shows to her is never from a place of willingly dropped guard or conscious intent, but instead due to being absolutely overwhelmed by his emotions. As such, it's Mel who consistently dedicates herself to their relationship by reacting in ways that only really serve to benefit or support Jayce, such as: -> accepting her suddenly-given role as emotional after the discovery Viktor is dying -> voting Heimerdinger out of the council on Jayce's inferred behest -> comforting Jayce over said vote that he pushed through -> stalling while he's supposed to be leading the council so he has time to find Viktor -> implicitly supporting Jayce's decision to bring Viktor back from at least the brink of death, if not death itself, at the beginning of season 2 Even past the ones I listed, there's so many moments Mel has which speak to her own brand of love for Jayce, especially in season 1. Times where she very much chooses to act in favor of his interests, even though it in no way benefits her, can be readily pointed to as cases of pragma. For all they might not be big and noticeable, they help keep the dynamic functional and healthy. Though, that's not to say Jayce doesn't have a moment of pragma outside of working on Hextech. Though, unless I'm missing something, it is just. A singular moment for him. Which is after his implicit apology for the argument the two had in the council room before the Viktor fight in season 2. After the apology, Mel goes on to open up to him about how she unlocked her abilities as a mage, that he comforts her by saying that Mel could never be just a passenger in her body - this is a moment that, while it does nothing to help him personally, still speaks to him caring about Mel. But... that's pretty much we only case we have of him directly engaging in pragma in relation to Mel. (...But then again, we see a lot of him and his active cases of pragma in those situations in season 1 focused on Hextech in particular, so in that regard it evens out if you consider pragma a whole without those specific contexts in mind. But I digress.)

There's potentially one other type of love i was tempted to add to all this, but this post has gotten very, very long, so i think I leave it here. If you somehow got this far down: holy shit what the fuck (impressed). For the sake of the sane people. I think I'll be putting my TL;DR at the top of the list.

oh yeah also jayvik are extremely orpheus and eurydice coded i don't make the rules

[fleurvi]

Strap Worship | Mikasa Ackerman

genre: smut (mdni)

pairing: mikasa ackerman x fem!reader

cw: sub!mikasa, strap-on sex, strap-sucking, deepthroating, reader refers to the strap as their cock once.

wc: 700+

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There's something addictive about having a woman as powerful as Mikasa Ackerman on her knees in front of you. At first, she let you take charge in the bedroom because you were more experienced, but over time, she learned that she likes giving up control to you. She has to be precise to a worrying degree everywhere else in her life, and it's freeing to relax a little bit and let someone else take care of her. Sometimes, Mikasa wants to please you; you always take care of her, and she wants to help you now.

She knees in front of you, completely naked, helping fasten your strap-on harness. When she's done she places open-mouthed kisses on your hip until you thread your fingers through her short hair and tug her away.

“You wanna help me out, pretty girl? You wanna do something for me?” you ask, holding her head in place near the tip of your strap, which you tap against her lips when she mutters out a ‘yes.’ The verbal response makes you smile; she was too shy to do anything other than nod the first time you had sex, and you had to prompt the words out of her. “How about you get this cock nice and slick so I can fuck you?”

You lose your grip but don't pull your fingers free as she leans forward and wraps her lips around the tip. Some people may be confused as to why you would ask her to do something when you can't physically feel it. The answer is simply that it looks fucking hot. The obvious power dynamic at play sends chills down your spine, and the visual of Mikasa wrapping her pretty pink lips around your strap is enough to have you moaning out loud. Mikasa isn't faring much better, whimpering around your cock as she takes it further and further into her mouth.

“Yeah, just like that, you look so fucking good down on your knees for me,” you say, encouraging her as she begins to bob her head. She's enthusiastic as she sucks, drool pools at the corners of her mouth. She makes it sloppy for you, a perfect picture to get you off to. If she stayed down there for long enough, you may be able to cum just from watching her. The noises she makes are sinful, gagging slightly as the tip hits the back of her throat. She braces one hand on your thigh and reaches the other up to interlock it with your hand that isn't still in her hair. She takes the strap all the way to the base, keeping eye contact with you. “Atta girl,” you praise, holding her in place until she pushes off of you.

Your breath hitches in your throat as Mikasa tilts her head up, and you get a good look at her. Her eyes look desperate and hazy, and her mouth hangs open, panting for air. There's a line of saliva connecting her lips to the toy, joined by drool settling over her bottom lip. Her hair is messed up, clenched tightly in your fist. She looks completely ruined, and you haven't even touched her pussy yet.

“Fuck my face,” she begs, voice hoarse. “Please, I need it.”

You listen, holding her head in place as you slip your cock back between her lips. You start your thrusts gently, careful not to hurt her, but she grabs hold of your thigh and whines for you to go faster. You keep at your current pace, making a gradual increase in roughness. The filthy gagging noises and moans that force their way past the toy when you rock your hips into her waiting mouth are like fuel to you, driving your cock to the back of her throat.

The strap is soaked, and her pretty pussy is dripping for you. You pull your strap-on out of her mouth, grinning at the way her mouth stays open. You lean down, looking her in the eyes as you spit into her open mouth. She swallows like a good girl as she awaits her next instructions.

“Get on the bed, hands and knees. I'm gonna fuck this pussy so good”

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thanks for reading!!

timeskip mikasa with her short hair is soooo fine like I picture her as a mask in my head bc I think she'd dress masc too and oooooh masc mikasa is so hot 🤤💦

[m1ngkis]

Hii I was wondering if I could request a Jongho smut where Y/n is mad at him for whatever reason and he doesn’t catch on which pisses her off even more. Fast forward Y/n catches an attitude and they end up arguing which then leads to make up sex/ just rough sex 😋

Thank you for this! Jongho has truly been bias wrecking the life out of me and I CANNOT

Anyways, I definitely see it like he was ignoring you while you were trying to tell him about your day and it ticked you off.

Now you were sulking and giving him the silent treatment while he was trying to order dinner.

"Oh come on, baby. I'm sorry!" He's kneeling on the floor in front of you as you sit on the bed, your arms crossed and body rigid. "We don't have to get pizza but you gotta help me out here!"

"That's not it, Jongho!" You break your silence, his ignorance at the situation actually pissing you off.

"Then what is it? What did I do?" He stands as he grows frustrated at your attitude.

"Nothing! I was trying to talk to you and you gave me nothing! So forget it, get what you want, I'm not fucking hungry!" You stand up too, forcing him to take a step back as you grab your bag, ready to leave the apartment all together.

"Wait! Where are you going?" His hand finds your arm and he pulls you back to him, his brows furrowed in confusion. "I'm not done!"

"Really? Well, now you get to feel how I felt." You attempt to pull your arm out of his grip but it only gets tighter as he feels you resist. "Let me go, Jongho!"

"No! You're going to sit back down and we're gonna figure this shit out." He snatches your bag and tosses it to the other side of the room.

"Fuck you!" The words fly out of your mouth before you can even think to stop them. Instant regret washes over your face as you see his gaze falter and just for a second you can see that you hurt him.

Before you can apologize, he's got you pinned to the mattress as he hovers over you trying to read your face. "That how you really feel right now?"

You don't answer him because truthfully, yes, you were angry at him for ignoring you when you wanted him to at least act like he cared for a minute but at the same time, you could acknowledge that you were overreacting just a tad.

He takes your silence as a yes and sighs, "I'm sorry, I really am. Its a lot going on in my head lately with the comeback and all the shows. I promise I always want to hear about your day." He releases your arms and braces himself on his hands instead.

"I know." You whisper, giving him a small smile. "I'm sorry for doing all of this.. I'm acting like a brat."

You push yourself up on your elbows as he chuckles, leaning forward so that your lips brush against each other. "We both know where that gets you."

You hum as he catches your lips, his tongue swiping your bottom lip for entrance. The second you grant it, he drops his weight and your arms come around his neck as your tongues tangle and moans mix.

“Still want to be a brat?” He asks against your skin. You can see it in his eyes, he’s hungry for your ‘yes’ so that he can rough you up for being so extra (with your permission of course)

You grant him his wish with a nod of your head and a wicked smile. Your hands are above your head before you realize it and Jongho’s course of kisses turns into nips and bites at your neck making you whine and protest.

“Jongho! You’re gonna leave marks!”

“That’s the point. Now, what was it that you said to me?” His soft gaze is tinted with lust as a hand snakes past your belly and undoes the button to your jeans.

"I don't know what you mean." Feigning innocence in your giggles, as his fingers make their way past your underwear, his palm firm against your heat.

Your breath hitches as he slips past your folds and starts slow circles on your clit. "Come on. You said it so confidently earlier." You feel his lips drag up the skin on your neck til his teeth catch your earlobe, tugging lightly, teasing.

"Jongho.." The tension in your bones slips away as your arousal coats his fingers as they build a rhythm to your pleasure. Your hands slide down to his biceps, squeezing the muscles as they flex.

"Mmm that's not what I'm talking about."

"I know- I just- god go faster please!" You plead, turning your head to meet his eyes. In an instant, you know exactly what he has in store for you and that pettiness of yours. "Jongho wait, I said I was sorry!"

"Yeah well." He has the audacity to shrug and speed up his fingers, your head drops back against the mattress as a moan slips from your mouth.

"Oh you asshole.." It was a mumble, a murmur really but he heard it anyway and you knew he did because his fingers stopped.

Your head shot up as another apology tumbled from your lips. "I didn't mean it! Jongho really, Im sorry!"

He said no words as a smirk settled on his lips and his fingers slipped away from you. Then, he was standing up and you knew you were in for it. "Take off your clothes."

You knew not to argue so your shirt was pulled off instantly a long with your jeans and tossed to the side, leaving you in your underwear. You gave him a questioning look but the only thing you got in response was a tilt of his head.

Once you were bare as the day you were born, he decided to join you halfway, his shirt gone but still being balled up in his hands.

"That's not fair."

"Brats don't get fair treatment. Turn around." In a second you were facing the other side of the room, body shaking slightly from the cool air and nerves on end.

You felt his fingers up your spine and then cradling the back of your neck, forcing your head back as the fabric of his shirt was pushed past your lips. "Thought I'd help you shut that mouth of yours."

Your yelp is muffled when he bends you over, your hands gripping the comforter as he keeps your face smushed into the mattress.

Suddenly the rough material of his jeans is pressed to your ass and his erection was undeniably. When he had gotten so hard you had no idea but you wouldn’t start complaining now.

“Feel how worked up you get me?” His free hand lands with a loud smack against your skin and Jongho almost regrets muffling your moans against his t shirt.

He can hear you whine and whimper even as his hand keeps you pressed to the bed. He starts to work off his jeans, lowering them just enough to let his length free and dip it between your folds.

Your body shakes at the sudden feeling as he slides his cock through your wetness, catching your clit occasionally. You try to move your body back against him, your desperate pleas barely audible but you really hope he's listening.

"It's alright baby. I know. I'm gonna give you what you need, don't worry." Jongho pulls your head back and takes the shirt out of your mouth.

His lips meet yours just as he starts to inch in. Your eyes roll back at the stretch, burning and tense. “Relax.” He mutters against you, his hand on your hip keeping you still as your heat swallows him up.

“It hurts..” You whine and he nods, his own eyes squeezed shut as you clench around him.

“I’m almost there honey. Promise.” With a rough thrust, the last of your breath is knocked out of you as he settles in. “There we go. You okay?”

You nod frantically, tears brimming your eyes as you adjust to his intrusion. He starts slow, easing out and in until your face softens and your moans become music to his ears.

Soon the room is filled with the soft smacks of skin and his sultry voice speaking the filthiest words.

“I guess this is what you wanted huh? Just wanted me to fuck you right?”

“Y-yes! Oh!” His pace quickens as he holds a bruising grip on your body.

“Needed a way to shut you up…Little attitude is getting out of hand.”

Your orgasm approaches quickly thanks to him but you try your best to hide it because once he notices, he’ll ruin it.

You try to even out your breathing, keeping your moans the same as your eyes squeeze shut. You feel it from the tips of your toes, crawling up to your belly, but just as you feel it start to snap, Jongho pulls out completely.

He leaves you empty and angry, chest heaving as you turn your self over to confront him.

“Thought you could get away from it?”

“Jongho! Please!”

“What did I say about that mouth?”

He grips your jaw roughly, pushing you to lay down. “Look at you. Starving for my cock but can’t shut up long enough to take it. You want to try again?”

“Yes! I do..I need it so bad.”

Finally he gives you what you need, skipping the teasing and getting straight to the toe curling. Your peak hits hard and he follows close behind.

All that’s left is to start plotting your next petty complaint.

[aliidarling]

hiiiiii idk if you’re still writing fics (if ur not pls ignore this!!!) but i read your love potions ghostface fan fic i love it sm so is it okay if you write a ghostface finding oblivious! reader crying in the woods and she tells him the other survivors were being assholes to her and he comforts her (and maybe hunts down the survivors that were mean to her) ❤️

seeing this after getting off a TOUGH danny match healed me. poor teammates in solo q is so frustrating but it's literally every other match now. oh what i would do for danny to comfort me after having a sable body block me <3 LOL yes i don't write that much anymore but this revived me for an hour so thank you

danny comforting sad reader :(

DANNY JOHNSON x fem!reader

— sfw content

summary; youve been mistreated by your friends and danny is there to comfort you.

warnings; danny johnson, dbd stuff, angst and comfort, steve harrington...., no beta read we die like steve, very sloppy, italics is a flashback, reader isnt dumb but she isnt very smart either

the match started off normal. you were against wesker, a brooding man who never liked you from the start. you were a sweet girl, it’s not like you ever flashlighted him or threw pallets in his face religiously, you did what you had to to survive. your teammates on the other hand.. sable, elodie, and steve. they were savages. constantly t-bagging, throwing pallets down on his face, blinding him at every godforsaken second— you didn’t blame the killer for getting aggressive. you were a little confused when steve shoved himself infront of you during one of your chases, blocking you from the only exit point from wesker. a shriek echoes through the trial grounds as you’re grabbed, thrown over a shoulder and carried off to a hook. the sound of giggles from your ‘friends’ sting. you eventually leave the trial, but the reminder of how they treated you stays. you thoughts you were all friends. they were probably just playing around. this behavior continues. a group of survivors had teamed up against you, constantly sabotaging you in the trials and making it their duty to bully you. it was humiliating, especially infront of the human killers, the ones who witnessed you getting belittled by your ‘friends’ each round and understood what was happened. it hurt more when they didnt do a single thing about it, but you knew you were silly for thinking a killer would help you in the first place, other then danny. when you heard the sound of a robe wrinkling in the distance, your eyes brightened. danny, the only killer who didn’t hate you. he’d always leave you for last and give you cuddles in the shack, tucking you in his warm robe, holding you tight against him. his arms were the warmest, not too big, but big enough to make you feel small and safe. the sound of steve screaming makes you flinch, exploding the generator by accident. sable scowls at you, distaste obvious in her eyes. “seriously?” she spat, shoving you off the generator without any hesitation. you yelp, landing on your butt, blinking widely in shock. “hey, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to.” you stammer, sitting up and wiping the dirt off your knees. a frown tugs at your lips as the familiar sense of embarrassment washes over you. the feeling was growing more and more normal with you. “whatever, slut.” she grumbles, her eyes darting back to the wires infront of her, focusing on the generator. ouch. slut. you don’t understand why they hate you so much, but you couldn’t do anything about it. so instead, you nod quietly and stand up, sulking as you walk off. some more screams surround you, but you don’t feel scared. danny wouldn’t hurt you. not how your ‘friends’ could. slut was such a specific insult as well; it made you wonder why they’d even think of calling you that. they couldn’t have found out about you and danny, right? an uneasy feeling stirs in your stomach.

soft giggles leave you as he pushes you against a tree, his mask tugged to the side to pamper kisses down your throat. his lips are warm, familiar. they make you happy and feel safe. “danny, what if we get caught?” you whisper, gently tugging him closer. his body firmly presses against yours, your cheeks flushing. he shushes you, his gloved hands running down your waist to your thighs, bunching your skirt up with a grin. “it’s okay. they’re busy on those damn generators,” he mutters into your ear. a sound of a twig snapping nearby makes you flinch, nuzzling deeper into his chest to hide. “what was tha—“ “shhh.” he soothes you, running his fingers over your panties while his other arm wraps snuggly around you, keeping you tucked in his robe. “i’ve gotcha.”

danny hated steve. with every part of his body, he hated that stupid teenage boy. his high-pitched scream to his obsession with blinding him—every part of him pissed the masked lunatic off. recently, he’s noticed that steve had started to grow a dislike towards his precious. you. the thought of steve being rude to you made danny’s fists clench with anger. he’s witnessed their poor treatment of you; he’s overheard the rude remarks thrown around about how you were a ‘slut,’ ‘killer fucker,’ and more colorful ones he didn’t want to remember, but what frustrated him the most was how they got you hurt. purposely tripping you and shoving you in front of the other killers angered him immensely. deathslinger and the trapper had come to him after the trials and alerted him of their treatment towards you, how they were chasing you and steve, sable or elodie shoved you in harm's way. he couldn’t let that slide. now he was stepping through the muddy grounds of the red forests, hissing lowly as the rain made his robe stick to him. he tucked his knife into his pocket when the sound of gentle cries filled the air. he recognizes the soft little voice, those little sniffles. he’s heard that noise so many times, under different circumstances. “baby?” he coos your name gently, kneeling down to your form. curled up under a tree, soaked to the brim. he could tell you were freezing because of your little white fingers, shaking from the cold. “hey, hey,” he shushes your cries and scoops you into his lap, wrapping his arms around to your frail body. you had bruises and scratches on your legs, making him scowl. he hadn’t laid a finger on you, and he knew damn well you wouldn’t hurt yourself. “what’s wrong?” he whispers, keeping you snug and curled up in his lap. he attempts to wrap his robe around you, keeping you warm from the rain. “mean.” you croak, fingers shaking as you cling to his firm body. he made you feel warm and loved, even if he was the supposed killer of the trial. “mean? who?” his voice is gentler than normal. he doesn’t want to scare you; he wants you to open up and tell him what happened so he can go kill whoever hurt you. “steve. sable. elodie. mean.” you cry softly. he nods gently at your words and holds his hand at the back of your head, pressing you more into his chest. your cries are muffled by his robe. “what’d they do this time?” he sighs. “sable snapped at me when i exploded the generator.” you sniffle sadly, weakly clawing at him to stay close, “steve shoved me into a tree and tried to play it off as an accident—“ you whine. his grip around you tightens slightly. he was going to bury steve alive. “alright, alright.” he hums, keeping you close as he stands up, picking you up with him. “let’s get you somewhere warm and i’ll go take care of those pesky little survivors.” he smiles darkly under his mask.

you guys dont understand how much i love dissing steve someone pls tell me theyve noticed how much i hate on him. its like an inside joke, me and danny both hate him