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pencil-n-pen · 11 hours ago

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I’M STILL TRYING EVERYTHING

⋆° 𐙚 ₊🧦☕🧸₊°⋆ ೀ₊°⋆

previous | kofi | masterlist

post prison!spencer reid x fem!reader

₊ ⊹

I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me.

-mirrorball, taylor swift

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summary: you’ve never had a date or a relationship that either didn’t work out or end in disaster. now that you have spencer, you’re determined not to let it happen again

cw: referenced bad past relationships, very very vaguely referenced past domestic abuse that honestly could be taken a different way, referenced child abuse (readers parents are STILL not it) again this is a criminal minds fic so references to graphic violence

tags/tropes: hurt/comfort (do i even need to say this? you all know who i am) insecurity, like one line of misogyny and it’s in the past and not brought up again, spencer being soft n worried, HEALTHY COMMUNICATION, spencer is just as gone for reader as she is for him honestly he's just a sap

a/n: back by popular demand !! seriously guys, you have no idea how much the support and comments and reblogs and asks means to me 🥹 the overwhelming amount of love for the first fic made me so happy when people started asking about a sequel i knew i had to !!

read the crossword on the collage for a surprise :)

this one goes out to all my girlies who’ve ever felt like they needed to be less in order to get a boyfriend or keep one. we’ll have our soft love just the way it was meant to be

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Spencer is a really good boyfriend.

Like… a really good boyfriend. You’re not sure if this is how having a real boyfriend is or if Spencer is just like this.

He’s so good to you. He’s just so- so him. You can’t explain it. Can’t put it into words.

He’s very patient with you. You’ve never explicitly stated it, but he’s picked up on your previous relationship experience- or more accurately, your lack thereof. The morning after you’d gone home with him, night consisting of nothing but easy sleep and warmth, he’d asked you out for real. Asked you if you’d go on a date with him, and you’d agreed, a giddy smile fixed firmly on your face.

But you still worry.

All it takes it one conversation with your parents to push things over the edge.

“Yes, dad. He’s very good to me.”

A laugh crackles over the line. “I tell you, your mother and I never thought we’d see the day.”

The words twinge uncomfortably in your chest. “Hey, I’m not that bad. I’ve just been focused.”

“More like uptight.”

“Dad—“

“You know, you still haven’t come out to visit your poor old parents since getting this so-called cushy job. And now you’ve got this boyfriend. You’re too young to settle down. Don’t you think we should meet him?”

Sometimes conversations turn so quickly they leave you stranded— scrambling to pick up pieces of what you thought was going to happen and piece them together to make something new. Something for the new route the conversation has taken.

You couldn’t hold back your sigh if you tried. “We haven’t been dating for that long dad, I don’t want to spring this on him—“

“Sweetie, if we don’t meet him now, why might never meet him. Who knows how long he’s gonna stick around?”

(Sometimes, in moments like these, for just a split second, you wonder how a father could say something like that, to his daughter. You wonder why, wonder what you did wrong. And then, you imagine Hotch saying those same things, and you can’t, and it almost makes you feel a little better.)

Your blood runs cold. “What could you possibly mean by that?”

“Well, you know how things have ended in the past. I’m just saying I’d like to meet him before he’s gone."

You don't dignify his words with a response.

"Come on, honey. I'm just joking with you."

"It's not funny."

"Don't be like that--"

"Goodbye."

You hang up, snapping the phone shut with a sigh.

The older you've gotten, the more conversations with your parents end up like this. You suppose it's the way you 'wasted your potential' or 'never made something of yourself.' They've always held resentment ever since you decided to become an agent. So you know not to take what they say to heart, because their words only come from a place of disappointment and displeasure. It's not a reflection of who you really are or what you've really accomplished.

Or at least, that's what Hotch told you when he'd overheard one of your phone calls. It meant more than you'd let on.

But your Dad's words linger in your head. They're irritating and sharp where they claw around in your head because they're true.

You can count on one hand the amount of romantic endeavors you've had. And from those, they all ended horribly. Your parents lost sympathy towards the end of your attempts, muttered words of needing to try harder to keep them, that you should be satisfied that somebody wanted you at all, that you should try to be less... you.

Try to be less... you, dear. The books and the facts- nobody wants those. Put some more effort into your appearance. Otherwise you'll end up all alone.

You'd tried to take their advice, of course. But the relationships that were fathered your parents direction were not loving. There was nothing soft or gentle or warm about them. You'd never felt more unlovable.

So when the incident with the shooter happened and you were lying on the lecture hall floor, blood coloring the carpet deep scarlet, you'd vowed to never let it happen again. That you were going to use your intellect and wit and passion for what you wanted to do- you'd promised yourself that if you survived, you would try to make your life your own, one step at a time.

This, of course, is easier said than done.

It's easy enough to refuse to let yourself get involved with men who are clearly only interested in your for your badge or your body --though the latter happens so rarely you really don't have to worry about it-- because you don't care about them. They're blips on your radar.

But Spencer? Sweet, sweet Spencer who makes you hot-cocoa and binge watches Doctor Who with you, even the later seasons, which you know he doesn't like as much but you love. Spencer who always has a grounding touch to offer, or a quiet command when you need him. Spencer who puts you first.

But there's a limit to these things, right? As far as you've seen, romantic relationship's are transactional, or conditional. Sometimes both. He can't just... keep doing this forever. It's too kind. Too sweet. It'll come to an end soon. Like, like the honeymoon era in early relationships. That's all it is. Plus, he's older than you, and you have no illusions about your unavoidable impulsiveness and naivety.

You've been told that your standards are too high before. "Struck by the hopeless romantic's arrow," your brother had said once, back when you were still in school, crying over a boy who'd told you that he didn't want to date you because you were too smart for a girl.

"That's not being hopeless romantic. There's no such thing as being too smart for a girl."

"There isn't," He'd amended, "But you're not going to have an easy time finding a guy. You of all people can't really afford to be picky."

He'd been right, in the end. So you're just... having a hard time figuring out how genuine Spencer's actions are. Guy's don't really act all romantic in the context of you. You've been told your whole life to be happy with what you get, and what you've had in the past is decidedly not lining up with how Spencer treats you.

It's a nasty little thing in your ear. Is it real? Does it matter as much to him?

When is it all going to end?

Rossi make's an offhand comment during a mission that you talk a lot when you're excited about the subject at hand.

JJ agrees. "It's a little unnerving when the subject is the bruising patterns of strangulation."

That little voice comes back.

Too much too much too much too much too much--

"It's useful," You protest, mouth dry.

JJ snorts, "I'm not sure about that. We need to know that the victim was strangled, not what happens to the body during blunt-force asphyxiation."

You'd grown quiet then, let the chatter and musings of the rest of the team wash over you.

Is that something Spencer finds annoying? You have always found things other's view morbid and disturbing fascinating. But JJ is right. No one wants to hear about that.

You brush the comment off, square your shoulders, get back on with the case.

Be better. Try harder.

You don't seen the furrow of Spencer's brows from where he's been watching you, or the quick look he shares with Hotch.

You'd never really thought about how clingy you can be before Emily makes an offhand comment about it while the two of you wait in line at a coffee shop. There's a couple in front of you, the girl all over her partner, kissing and giggling and hugging them close.

"Ugh," Emily groans once the two get their coffee and move on. "I could never understand the appeal of all that. I mean doesn't it feel stifling?"

A little stab of ice in your stomach.

"I don't know. I think it's nice."

"No, thank you. If I were her partner, I'd feel smothered."

You think about that conversation every time you take Spencer's hand or lean into his simple touches. They're invasive little things, the thoughts. It's not hard to pull back on all the touching. You never really ask for them in the first place- always too nervous to come off clingy. But you suppose just taking, taking, taking is just the same.

A quick shake of your head, not leaning in, a quiet "I'm fine." and that little nagging fear of smothering begins to quiet. It doesn't leave, but it does get quieter. For a little while, at least.

The hard part is trying to be less without noticeably being less. Spencer's smart- and he's a profiler. If you pull back too much too quickly, he'll notice, and you don't want to talk about this yet. You just need to make sure he'll stay. That things won't—

That you won't find out too late that you don't mean as much to him as he does to you.

That's the kind of thing that can't happen again. But ascertaining his true feelings and desires is difficult, because this is all kind's of new territory for you. You want to believe it's real. You really, really want to believe it's real.

But it's never been real before, so why would it be real now?

You've asked around (subtly and carefully, of course) about the type of girl Spencer's dated or drifted towards in the past. You know he said he wanted something soft and sweet, but you can't help but think that you're not really either, nor are you in line with his type. All things considered, you're a mess. Something tired-eyed and hollow is how you feel most days. Some sort of creature perhaps? You're honestly not sure what you are. You've spent your entire life being singled out or otherwise othered- always too smart or too different or too weird or too much or too loud or too quiet or too shy or too, too, too. Always too something. You have never been called soft or sweet. In a demeaning way, sure, but never with the quiet reverence that Spencer said it with that night.

It feels like a balancing act, a bit. Holding all those too much parts so close to your chest with one hand and shoving the ones you think Spencer wants with the other hand.

You could probably drop the one hand. The one holding the bad parts. But you're just not convinced he'll stay. You're not sure that he won't look at them with some form of disgust or pity or something else terrible.

You know the balancing act isn't sustainable— you'll fall eventually, and everything will come crashing down, but until then, you just keep trying. Trying to see if he'll stay, trying to see what to do if he won't. How to ensure he will, if that's something that's possible.

The act does not hold up for as long as you hoped it would. It comes crashing down with a glass. Literally.

You and Spencer are in the kitchen on a rare weekend off, cooking and drinking wine and swaying to some little old love song.

It should be perfect, except you're worrying that you look ugly while you're dancing, and you're probably singing off-key, and he maybe wants you to shut up so he can hear the song or dance in peace.

He reaches towards you and you just— your brain shrieks for a moment, all senses going into overdrive and you jerk backward, and your elbow knocks into your wine glass, and it falls, shattering behind you with a deafening crash.

Your entire body tenses, waiting for yelling or sighing or something, because you broke the glass, there's crystalline shards everywhere, the wine red and it looks like blood, maybe it is, maybe you're bleeding because the glass was really close to your foot when it fell but you're not sure because you can't really feel your feet or your fingers or—

"Don't move," Spencer says, voice serious, and tears well in your eyes, because this is when it all ends isn't it? "I don't want you to— honey?"

"Yes?" You croak.

His eyes are swimming with concern as he takes in your hunched shoulders, shallow breaths, and scared expression.

Understanding flickers in his features, and you resist the urge to hold your breath.

"Nothing is going to happen to you because of the glass, okay? Everything is fine. We're fine. I'm not mad. See? I'm not mad. I just don't want you to cut your feet on the glass. I'm going to clean this up and get your slippers, okay?"

"Okay." You breathe, voice hoarse. You wring your hands nervously as he leaves to retrieve the necessary supplies to clean the mess, heart beating so fast and so hard you're shocked you can't see it through your shirt.

He's not mad. He's not mad. You're not in trouble. Your parents aren't here. You're not grounded. You're not in trouble. He's not mad.

You're silent while he cleans, focused on getting your breathing under control while he babbles quietly about the history of glass making and the significance of types of wine glasses. The facts and history wash over you in steady waves, easing the tension in your shoulders bit by bit.

"I didn't think you were going to hit me, Spencer."

He continues cleaning. "It's okay if you did. I would never blame you for that."

"But I don't," You say, suddenly desperate, "I know you wouldn't, I've never been hit, not like that."

He's quiet for a few minutes. "Does this have something to do with how you've been acting recently?"

You freeze. "What do you mean?"

He looks up, leaning back on his knees. Making himself smaller, you realize. He's trying not to scare you again.

"You're dating a profiler. Also, I speak fluent you, and you've been chewing all your hangnails again. You only do that when you're stressed and pretending like you're not."

Your finger's twitch at your sides.

His hands come up slowly, and he rubs the length of your waist and hips. "We don't have to talk about it right now, but I think we should soon. I don't want you hurting all by yourself. You've had enough of that. That's what I'm here for."

He finishes cleaning up the glass, and finishes cooking dinner- he'd assured you he'd turned off all burners when the glass hit the floor, so nothing's burnt.

Once you've both eaten, he steers you towards the couch and wordlessly puts on Doctor Who.

The Pandorica is just about to open when you finally decide that if you don't start talking, you never will.

"My parents think you're going to leave me."

Spencer makes a wounded noise in his throat. "Why do they think that?"

"Because it's happened before. I'm, um. I'm not very good at getting into relationships. Or keeping them."

"But that's not your fault."

You sniff hard, rubbing your face with your sleeve. "It is though, isn't it? At least a little. I know I can be a lot. I know I'm not easy to—"

You cut yourself off, but the words hang in the air anyway; unsaid.

I'm not easy to love.

"Anyway," You say, pushing through the lump in your throat. "I just thought. I don't know. I was worried that you'd get fed up with me."

"No," He whispers, voice raw and full of something a lot heavier than fond. "No, no baby. I like that you're clingy and you ramble when you get excited, because it means that we get to talk about something together."

He shifts on the couch, sitting criss-crossed, ducking his head down to catch your gaze. "You know what else I like?"

You scoot over, mirroring his position. "What?"

"I like that you always know when I need you. Even when I don't think I do, you're there. Because I do need you. This isn't a one-way street."

His words hit you straight in your chest. "Oh."

He smiles, brows a little scrunched, brown eyes a deep pool of fondness and a splash of concern. "Yeah. And I'm thinking you need me a little more than you want to let on."

The seam of your pajama pants suddenly becomes the most interesting thing in the world. Amazing, the wonders of a sewing machine.

"Maybe."

"Mmm," He hums, "So if I need you, don't you think that you're allowed to need me?"

Your fingers pick and twirl a loose thread around. "...Yes?"

A large, firm hand covers your thigh, giving it a quick squeeze. "Yes. Not only are you allowed to need me, I want you to need me. Cause you know how you're always worried about being the best girlfriend? Well, I'm always worried about being the best boyfriend."

That makes you look up. "Really?"

He chuckles again, a little puff of air fanning your face. "Yes, really. I assure you, contrary to your past experiences, this is one of those bare minimum things in a relationship."

"That does not," He continues, immediately catching the brief flicker of doubt and shame on your face, "Mean that it is your fault at all for how you were treated in the past. You wouldn't expect me to suddenly become an expert in veterinary medicine just because I've been to the vet's office a few times, right?"

"When did you go to the vet's—"

"Shh, I'm being a good boyfriend," He holds up a hand, lips quirking up when you can't suppress a tiny giggle, "But seriously. You had no frame of reference, right? And you were being told it was your fault. But it wasn't. You didn't deserve that."

He lets his words hang in the air for a little while and allows you time to process this new information.

"What do I do now?"

"Well," He leans in, brushing his nose against yours, curls tickling your forehead, "You've got a pretty sweet deal here. Just three things. You have to keep letting me need you, let yourself need me, and one last little thing."

"What?"

You're so close your breaths are mingling.

"Let me show you what this is supposed to look like. How a man is supposed to treat a pretty girl. His pretty girl."

"Oh, well," Heat rushes to your cheeks, your stomach doing flip-flops, "That sounds pretty hard. I don't know how I'll hold up."

His hand comes up to hold the side of your face, his thumb sweeping strokes under your eye.

"You say that now, but I know what happens to you when I get romantic. You swoon."

You laugh. "I do not swoon."

"You will."

He leans down, capturing your lips in a soft, gentle kiss. It isn't a kiss-kiss. He's kissing you just to kiss you; just to let you know that he's here, that you have him.

It's sweet and perfect and exactly what you need.

Letting yourself need Spencer is marginally easier now that you know he needs you. Now that you know you're not going all in for someone who isn't.

He also starts needing you a bit... louder.

It's late evening, and most people have gone home except you and a couple other members of the team, all still working on paperwork.

Except Spencer, who's decided to drape himself over your shoulders like a cat, his chin resting on your head.

"Don't you have work to do?"

"Either finished it or it can be done later."

You shift your shoulders, smiling at how his grumbles vibrate against your back.

He moves his head, pressing his cheek to your head instead of his chin, heaving a deep sigh.

"Your hair smells good."

"Like what?"

"You're shampoo. Yours always smell better than mine."

You continue to work through your paperwork, Spencer a continuous and solid weight against your back.

"Is this even comfortable for your back at all?"

"Doesn't matter. Need girlfriend time."

He can't see it, but you're sure he knows how hard you blush.

Spencer's cooking the two of you a late breakfast in the kitchen of his apartment, hair still all mussed from sleep. He's quite the sight. You can't stop staring.

You're sitting on the counter, still dressed in your pajamas, legs swinging.

"You wanna know something cool?"

"You know it,"

"Butterflies and moths can drink blood and tears. There's nutrients in them. Purple Emperor butterflies are especially known for this. It's called mud-puddling."

"So you're telling me I should make sure I bandage any open wounds before I go to a butterfly house?"

"I guess. I can't imagine they'd be able to drink enough blood to actually cause any damage."

"Maybe we'll have to go to a butterfly house. For research."

"Should we get dinner afterwards?"

"We'll deserve it, you know, for all the hard research we'll have done."

"Hmm. Yes, I suppose so."

Spencer's bed is infinitely more comfortable than your bed. You're pretty sure it's a combination of the fact that it's the only thing in the entire world that smells so much like him and the fact that he spent part of his large FBI paycheck on a fancy mattress. Back support is very important to him.

You're doing a little reading before bed, shamelessly sprawled all over him while he does his own reading. You've got a leg hooked over his hips, the other tangled with his legs, and your arms and head pillowed on his chest. You move a little every time he takes a breath, and more than once you've paused in your reading, mesmerized by the feeling.

He shifts under you, setting his book down on his night stand and making himself more comfortable.

"Should I move?"

"No," he says, voice deep and gravelly with sleep. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush to him, face pressed to the crook of your neck. He breathes deep, scruffy stubble scratching against your skin. "Like you close. Good for sleep."

Even with the lamp on, and your book in your hand, you fall asleep soon after him.

It's an ordinary evening for the two of you. Discarded dishes sit on the coffee table in front of the teeth, neither of you paying them any attention, wrapped up in each other and eyes glued to the T.V.

You look up at Spencer who's watching Doctor Who with the focus of a man who's never seen it, even though you know for a fact he's seen it before, several times in fact.

"I want to know the things you like," He'd said simply, the one time you'd asked why he takes your nightly Doctor Who watching so seriously.

And tonight's no different. Tonight, he looks... well, he looks like Spencer. His face illuminated by the TV screen, his hair all mussed from you running your hands through it earlier.

And it just kind of all hits you at once. You know.

"I love you."

He looks down at you, his expression soft and surprised. When your words register, his expression is so sickeningly fond and happy you can't help but lean in, burying your face in his chest. He rubs your back consolingly, then presses a little kiss to the crown of your head.

"I love you too."

⋆⭒˚.⋆

taglist: @topsecret101 @slowdownpal @leeknowpegger @sunbl3achedfly @hiireadstuff @paige0103 @private190104 @beautyb1ade @coraline-jones353 @pleasenter-sandman @sttvrdustt @gluchie @thomasintheshadows @dessamira1001 @bbleeeeh @hufflely-puffly @bippityboppityboob1tch @buggys-space @redxfangirl @liauchiha147 @dreaming-potato @meandyoulollz @jobrosimp

#girlblogging #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #dr spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #ao3 #bau team #criminal minds fanfiction #x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #soft spencer reid #almost forgot that one teehee #spencer reid fluff #spencer x reader

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rainydayathogwarts · 1 day ago

Note

hi, this is the first time I'm writing a request on tumblr but I really like your writing (and unfortunately I'm very picky about writing styles🫣) I have tons of ideas for one shots in the back of my head so I'm coming to you with this rather simple one: reader x remus

Remus & reader are sth like friends, they have a secret crush on each other; remus is the casanova of gryffindor tower and all the girls (and probably boys) are crushing on him, Remus isn't quiet aware of the impact he has, reader reveals it to him in a convo (maybe while studying?) they're having that everyone finds him attractive and he asks if reader does aswell and so onnnn...

honestly, do with it what you want, I'm sure you will slay it! in case you hate the idea pls just ignore my request haha!⭐️

What about you? - Remus Lupin

summary: despite having a whole fanbase of girls who want him as their boyfriend, remus is only interested in your opinion wc: 1k

The giggles you heard as you walked past a group of girls with Remus had you rolling your eyes, cutting off the middle of your conversation. You couldn’t even have a single trip back from the library without a group of Remus’ fangirls making a big deal over him, but the boy didn’t notice them, only taking note of your unusual reaction.

Remus brushed a hand to the back of your arm, his soft touch stealing your attention from the group of insolent girls. “You alright?” Remus asked, carefully watching your expression change from one of annoyance to empathy. “They don’t bother you?” Remus’s eyebrows furrowed, a crease forming between them “Who?” You glanced around the hallway, looking for another group of Remus’s fans. Finally, at the sight of some third year girls huddled around in the corner of the hallway, nervously glancing towards you both, you nodded your head in their direction, softly elbowing Remus in his side. “You know, your little fanbase of girls?” Remus stopped in his tracks, making you look back at his when you realised his disappearance.

“My little what?” You laughed at the shock in his voice, repeating “Fanbase. Honestly Rem, it shocks me every time that you don’t have a new girl in your bed every day. You could have the entire school lined up to have a turn with you.” Remus stammered, finally picking up his pace, hooking his arm with yours to drag you back to the common room with him. “You need to start over, you’ve lost me.” He said, coming to a stop in front of the fat lady’s portrait to mumble the password.

“I’m surprised you don’t know.” “Sweetheart, just give it to me straight.” He begged, slumping down on the couch in front of the fireplace and patting the spot next to him. You didn’t fail to take notice of the jealous eyes following your figure as you sat close to Remus. You felt your chest swell with pride, and almost wanted to call out ‘Yes, I’m closer to him than you’ll ever be. Cry about it.’ But there were pros and cons to being Remus’s best friend. Pro: you were Remus Lupin’s best friend. Con: you were only Remus Lupin’s best friend. And you feared that with the discovery of all the girls who wanted to have him as their boyfriend, all you’d ever be was his best friend.

“There’s nothing much to it. You know, apart from the fact that every girl in the castle wants you as their boyfriend.” Remus was silent as he processed the information, blinking slowly. “You know, it’s just always been this way. I think people started realising that you’re more than just a pretty face.” “Pretty face?” He mumbled. “Wait. Every girl in the castle?” You shrugged, replying “More or less. I mean, I can assure you that Lily isn’t one of them.” You both laughed at the comment, an image of the infatuated couple displaying in your head. Remus slid his hand into yours, squeezing it softly. “Well, what about you?” You felt your face immediately heat up at his question, trying your hardest to maintain eye contact with the boy, but you couldn’t help the way your gaze dipped down to look at the way Remus held your hand.

You gulped. This was not the first time you and Remus held hands, not at all. But you’d never held hands in this context, with the boy asking if you wanted him to be your boyfriend. “What about me?” You echoed, returning your gaze to Remus’s eyes. The boy seemed to suddenly get nervous, his face flushing as he began to stumble over his words, voice quieting down significantly. “You said every girl in the castle wants me as their boyfriend. Does that apply to you?”

You were very aware that Remus could probably hear the fast thumping of your heart, and you could too. You only wished you had a trick to know how he was feeling too. “It’s fine if not!” He announced at the same time you said “Only if you want it to!” A painful silence settled between you. You cleared your throat, watching as Remus opened and shut his mouth. He didn’t make a move to say anything, forcing you to speak up. “It’s fine if not…” You started, “Does that mean you want it to apply to me?”

“I mean, it would be pretty nice if the girl I like wants me to be her boyfriend. But if she doesn’t, I guess it’s…” Remus’s words trailed off as he saw a wide grin on your face. He swallowed thickly, forcing his face to cool down, but that wasn’t possible. Not when you were cupping his cheeks and leaning forward to press a bold kiss on his lips. Remus’s hand curled around the nape of your neck to keep your lips pressed against his, only pulling away when he deemed himself ready. “Let’s go out!” He announced the second your lips parted, standing up abruptly.

You blinked quickly, looking up at the tall boy and asking “Now?” Remus nodded, holding his hands out for you to take. “Yeah, let’s go out now. On a date.” You took Remus’s hands, letting him pull you off the couch. He let go of one of your hands, the other one sneakily intertwining his fingers with yours, leading you out of the common room. Remus led you onto the Hogwarts grounds to spend time together, but it was impossible to have a conversation when neither of you could take your eyes off the other’s lips. Instead, your first date was spent chasing each other for kisses by the black lake, where watchful eyes allowed the news of your relationship to be spread all around hogwarts by the time you got to the great hall for dinner.

taglist:

@ravisinghs-wife, @amatoanima, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @superlegend216, @treefairy-28, @superlegend216, @kitkatkl

#rainydayathogwarts #harry potter #hogwarts #marauders era #gryffindor #marauders #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x you #remus lupin smut #remus lupin angst #remus lupin fluff #remus x reader #marauders x reader #remus x you #remus x y/n

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kaiyunsim · 1 day ago

Text

just a boy —

pairing : fuckboy!jay x gn!reader

summary : you meet jay at a party where you reject him after making a move… he likes it when they play hard to get.

warnings : angst, fluff, more angst than fluff tbh, uni au, reader is a freshman, jay is older, featuring heeseung + jake, jisung from nct, and minju from illit

a/n : omg fun to write is actually an understatement. i hope it turned out fun to read :) also for my pookie @writhyv

queueing : just a boy - alaina castillo,

— wc : 6.6 — not proof read —

you don't really care about parties. they're loud, crowded, and always filled with people trying too hard. but minju drags you along anyway, insisting that you need to "experience the university nightlife" at least once.

"come on, it'll be fun," she says, looping her arm through yours. "plus, jisung bailed on me, and i am not third-wheeling jake and his situationship all night."

so now you're here, standing awkwardly in the corner of a frat house, gripping a red solo cup filled with something that smells suspiciously like gasoline. minju is already off somewhere, talking to a girl from her english class, and you're left to watch as people dance, drink, and make questionable decisions.

"you look miserable," a voice says from beside you.

you turn and come face to face with park jongseong, jay, as everyone calls him. you know his name, even if you've never spoken before. he's older, popular, and has a reputation that follows him everywhere he goes.

flirt. player. fuckboy.

minju has warned you about him. "he's hot, yeah, but he's the kind of guy who doesn't do relationships. he flirts, hooks up, and moves on. trust me, i've seen it happen."

but none of that matters, because you have no plans to entertain him.

jay grins at you, leaning against the wall like he owns the place. he's got that easy confidence, the kind that comes with knowing he's attractive and that people want him.

"not a fan of parties?" he asks, tilting his head.

you shrug. "not really."

he chuckles. "then why are you here?"

"minju."

his eyebrows raise slightly. "you know minju?"

"from high school." you say, keeping your answers short.

"interesting," he muses, eyes scanning your face like he's trying to place you somewhere in his memory. he doesn't seem to recognize you, though, which isn't surprising. you've never exactly run in the same circles.

"so," he says, shifting closer. "wanna dance?"

it's not a question, not really. it's the kind of offer people don't usually refuse, not when it comes from him. jay park doesn't get turned down.

but you just blink at him and say, "no, thanks."

his smile falters, just for a second, before he recovers. "really? you sure? i promise i'm a good dancer."

"i'm sure." you say with a fake smile, giving off the vibe that you’re annoyed

he lets out a soft laugh, like he can't believe you're actually rejecting him. his ego must be bruised, but he hides it well, still looking at you with interest.

"alright," he says, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "then how about a drink? i can get you something better than… whatever that is." he nods at your cup.

"i'm good."

"wow," he murmurs, shaking his head in amusement. "you're really not making this easy for me, huh?"

"should i?"

he grins, running a hand through his dark hair. "most people do."

"well, i'm not most people."

jay studies you for a moment, like he's trying to figure out why you're different. why you're not reacting the way everyone else does. you don't bat your lashes at him, don't giggle or play into his flirting. and for some reason, instead of turning him away, it only seems to intrigue him more.

"i like you," he says suddenly.

you roll your eyes. "you don't even know me."

"not yet," he agrees, "but i’d like to."

there's something almost playful in his voice, but you know better. jay isn’t interested in getting to know people. he's interested in chasing, in winning. and right now, you’re just another game to him.

"keep liking me from a distance," you say, brushing past him.

you don’t look back, but you feel his eyes on you as you walk away.

for the first time in his life, park jongseong has been rejected. and somehow, you think that only makes him more determined.

—

you don't think much about your encounter with jay. to you, it was just another conversation at a party, one you barely wanted to be at in the first place.

but apparently, jay thinks otherwise.

it starts with small things.

you see him at the campus café, where he just so happens to show up right behind you in line.

"oh, hey," he says casually, as if running into you is pure coincidence.

you glance at him, unimpressed. "hey."

"what are you getting?"

you turn back to the menu. "haven't decided."

"let me guess," he hums, tapping a finger against his chin like he's solving some great mystery. "you seem like a caramel macchiato kind of person."

you raise a brow. "what does that even mean?"

jay grins, leaning in slightly. "sweet, but a little bitter if you get on their bad side."

"so basically, you're guessing."

"i call it an educated guess," he says, nodding at the cashier. "get one. my treat."

"no, thanks."

he lets out a dramatic sigh. "you really don't like accepting things from me, huh?"

"nope."

instead of looking discouraged, jay just watches as you place your order, an iced americano, completely different from what he guessed.

he chuckles. "so i was way off."

"yup."

you take your drink and leave without another word. jay doesn’t follow, but you swear you feel his stare on your back as you walk away.

it keeps happening.

and then, one afternoon, you’re sitting under a tree, trying to get through an assignment, when someone drops into the grass beside you.

"you always look so serious," jay muses.

you don’t even glance up. "because i'm trying to focus."

"right, right." he leans back on his hands. "but don't you ever take a break?"

"nope."

"come on," he nudges your knee with his. "five minutes won't kill you."

you sigh, finally looking at him. "do you need something?"

jay flashes you that same easy grin, the one that probably gets him whatever he wants. "just your company."

"i think you’ll survive without it."

he clutches his chest dramatically. "ouch. you wound me."

"you’ll live."

jay just laughs, shaking his head. "you know, you’re making this really difficult."

"making what difficult?"

"getting to know you."

"who said i wanted you to?"

he stares at you for a moment, eyes glinting with something unreadable. then, instead of answering, he stands up and dusts himself off.

"alright," he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. "guess i’ll try again tomorrow."

before you can process his words, he's already walking away.

"okay, what is going on?" minju asks a few days later, sliding into the seat across from you in the dining hall.

"what do you mean?"

she gestures dramatically. "you and jay. he keeps staring at you. he keeps showing up wherever you are."

"it's just a coincidence."

"coincidence my ass," she huffs. "he’s interested."

"interested in what? flirting with someone who doesn’t want to flirt back?"

"exactly!" minju exclaims. "he's never been rejected before! you’re like. like. his first loss."

"not a loss," you correct. "just… not a win."

"same thing in his mind." she leans in, eyes narrowing. "be honest. do you like him?"

you snort. "no."

"not even a little?"

"minju, he flirts with anything that breathes."

"true," she concedes, stabbing a piece of her salad. "but he’s never tried this hard before."

you roll your eyes. "and that’s exactly why i’m not interested. he only wants what he can’t have."

"so you think if you gave in, he’d lose interest?"

"obviously. but it’s not like i want him to be interested in the first place,”

but what you don’t see is jay, sitting at another table with jake and heeseung, watching you from across the room.

"so," heeseung says, "still trying?"

jay sips his drink, not looking away. "yup."

jake shakes his head, laughing. "dude, you're obsessed."

"i'm not obsessed," jay scoffs. "i'm just… interested."

heeseung raises a brow. "in what? winning?"

jay pauses. that should be the answer. that’s how it always is. he flirts, he wins, he moves on. but this time, it feels different.

"i dunno," he mutters, eyes still locked on you. "but i wanna find out."

and just like that, park jongseong makes it his mission to make you fall for him.

whether you want to or not.

—

you’re starting to think the universe has a cruel sense of humor.

there’s no other explanation for why jay park keeps showing up everywhere you go.

first, it’s the café… again. you stop by for your usual iced americano, and there he is, leaning against the counter like he has all the time in the world. when he sees you, his lips curl into a smirk.

"you stalking me now?" he teases.

you blink at him. "this is literally my usual spot."

"yeah?" he muses, stepping aside so you can order. "funny. seems like it’s mine now too."

you ignore him and pay for your drink, but as you turn to leave, he suddenly holds out a muffin. "here."

you frown. "what is this?"

"peace offering," he says. "for annoying you so much."

"i don't want it."

jay tuts, shaking his head. "harsh. you don’t like sweets?"

"i don’t like you."

he laughs, completely unbothered. "that’s not true. you just won’t admit you think i’m funny."

you roll your eyes and walk past him, but not before he calls out, "see you around!"

unfortunately, he’s right.

the second time, it’s the library.

you’re sitting at a table, halfway through an essay, when someone slides into the seat across from you.

you don’t need to look up. "seriously?"

jay rests his chin on his palm, grinning. "seriously."

"do you even study?"

"i do now." he gestures to his laptop, which, sure enough, is open.

you sigh and turn back to your work, ignoring him completely. for the first ten minutes, he’s quiet, and you start to think maybe—just maybe—he’s actually here to study.

but then he leans forward. "you always this focused?"

"yes."

"cute," he murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear.

you finally look at him, unimpressed. "why are you here?"

"what, a guy can’t expand his knowledge?"

"you haven’t typed a single word."

jay glances at his screen, where his essay is blank. he shrugs. "i’m thinking."

"about what?"

"about how long it’s gonna take for you to admit you like having me around."

you let out a slow breath, standing up and gathering your things. "good luck with that."

"where you going?"

"somewhere quiet."

jay watches you leave, the smirk never leaving his face.

you think that’s the end of it.

until your professor assigns a group project.

"you’ll be working in pairs," she says. "check the list for your partner."

you scan the names, looking for yours, and freeze.

park jongseong.

"you’ve got to be kidding me," you mutter.

"what?" minju asks, peering over your shoulder. then she snorts. "oh. wow. the universe really has it out for you."

you groan, dropping your head onto the desk.

"who’d you get?"

you glance up to see jisung standing beside you, holding his own paper.

"jay," minju answers for you.

jisung grimaces. "yikes."

"yep."

before you can say anything else, someone taps your shoulder.

"guess we’re partners," jay says, voice far too amused.

you sigh. "don’t remind me.”

—

working with jay is… not as painful as you expected.

you still don’t like him. obviously. but he’s not completely useless.

turns out, he’s actually smart. and organized. he doesn’t slack off or make you do all the work. and—annoyingly—he’s kind of funny.

you realize this when you’re both at the library, bouncing ideas off each other.

"okay, so we could go with this topic," you say, scrolling through the research.

jay hums. "or we could pick something that won’t make me want to throw myself off a building."

you bite back a smile. "dramatic much?"

"you’re underestimating my ability to get bored."

"i think that’s just your problem."

jay gasps, placing a hand over his chest. "ouch. i thought we were bonding."

"we’re working."

"same thing."

you shake your head, but you don’t argue.

slowly, things shift.

you still tell yourself that jay is just playing a game. but sometimes, you catch him looking at you—really looking—and for a moment, it doesn’t feel like one.

like when you’re at the library, and you yawn without thinking.

"tired?" he asks.

"obviously."

without a word, he slides his drink toward you.

you blink. "what—"

"it’s an americano," he says simply.

you hesitate, then take a sip. "it’s sweet."

jay shrugs. "i like sugar."

you give him a look. "so you were way off when you guessed my order last time."

he grins. "guess so."

you shake your head, but you don’t push the drink back.

—

"okay, so he’s not the worst person alive," you admit later.

minju stares at you. "who are you and what have you done with my friend?"

"i’m serious," you say. "he’s… fine. actually kind of helpful."

minju sighs. "that’s how it starts."

"how what starts?"

"you start thinking he’s not that bad. then, before you know it, you’re catching feelings."

"i’m not catching anything."

she gives you a look. "just be careful, okay? he’s only this persistent because you’re the first person to say no."

you nod, but her words stick in your head.

you tell yourself you don’t care.

but then one night, you’re leaving the library, and jay is waiting outside.

"walking alone at this hour?" he muses. "dangerous."

you raise an eyebrow. "and you’re what? my bodyguard?"

jay smirks. "i could be."

"no thanks."

"still," he says, falling into step beside you. "i’ll walk you back."

"you don’t have to."

"i know."

you sigh, but you let him.

the walk is quiet, save for the sound of your footsteps. when you reach your building, you stop.

"this is me," you say.

jay nods. "guess i’ll see you tomorrow."

"guess so."

he hesitates, then lifts a hand, ruffling your hair before you can react.

you blink. "what the—"

he just grins. "goodnight."

then he’s gone, leaving you standing there, heart doing something it definitely shouldn’t be doing.

this is bad.

really bad.

—

the next party is loud, too loud. music shakes the floor, conversations overlap, and the air is thick with the scent of alcohol and sweat. you don’t even know why you’re here.

well. you do.

minju dragged you out, saying you’ve been too cooped up with schoolwork and your stupid group project (which, unfortunately, includes jay park). jisung backed her up, insisting you needed to “socialize like a normal human being.”

so now you’re here, standing in the corner of someone’s crowded apartment, gripping a half-empty cup of soda because you don’t drink, and pretending you’re interested in whatever minju is talking about.

until you see him.

jay.

you tell yourself you shouldn’t be surprised. parties are his thing, after all. loud music, dim lighting, a sea of people who’d fall into his arms without hesitation.

he fits right in.

too well.

you spot him across the room, leaning against the wall, that lazy smirk on his lips. there’s a girl beside him, standing too close, laughing at something he just said. she tilts her head, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. jay doesn’t move away.

he says something else, something that makes her giggle, and then he leans in,,, just a little.

your stomach twists.

it’s stupid. so, so stupid.

this is what he does. this is who he is. he flirts with everyone. you’ve seen it before. you knew this about him before he even knew your name.

but tonight, it bothers you.

you don’t know why, and you don’t want to think about it.

"you okay?" minju asks, nudging your arm.

"yeah," you say too quickly. "just… tired."

she eyes you but doesn’t press. "wanna leave soon?"

you nod. "yeah."

but before you can say anything else, you feel a presence beside you.

"hey," a familiar voice says.

you turn, and there he is.

jay.

his smirk is gone.

"what do you want?" you ask, not in the mood for whatever game he’s playing tonight.

he hesitates, glancing at minju, then back at you. "can we talk?"

"no."

he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "please?"

minju looks between the two of you, then slowly backs away. "i’ll be over there," she says, pointing to jisung.

you cross your arms. "what?"

jay doesn’t answer right away. instead, he exhales, then jerks his head toward the door. "outside?"

you should say no. you should walk away. but there’s something in his eyes, something that makes your chest feel too tight, so you follow him out.

the cool night air is a relief against your heated skin. outside, the noise is muffled, distant, like the party belongs to a different world.

you stop a few steps away from the door, crossing your arms. "well?"

jay shoves his hands into his pockets. "you looked upset."

you scoff. "why do you care?"

"because," he says, stepping closer, "i do."

you laugh, but it’s humorless. "you flirt with someone else, then come running after me? what is this, jay?"

his jaw tightens. "it’s not like that."

"really? because it sure as hell looked like it."

"you think i do this with everyone?" his voice is sharper now, frustration leaking through. "yeah, i flirt, but this,whatever this is, is different, and you know it."

your breath catches.

different.

he said it first.

but that doesn’t change anything.

"do i?" you challenge. "because it looks exactly the same to me."

jay groans, running a hand through his hair. "i didn’t even realize what i was doing."

"that’s not making this better."

"i know!" he snaps. "i just—fuck."

he exhales, tilting his head back like he’s trying to find the right words in the sky. then, softer, he says, "it’s a habit, okay? flirting, keeping things surface-level. that’s just how i’ve always been."

you swallow, suddenly unsure. "then why are you here?"

jay takes another step forward, close enough that you can see the tension in his shoulders, the crease in his brows.

"because i don’t want this to be surface-level," he admits. "not with you."

the words knock the air out of your lungs.

for a moment, neither of you speak.

then you say, "so what? you want me to believe that you’re suddenly different?"

"i don’t know," he admits. "but i know i don’t want to fuck this up."

you stare at him, at the raw honesty in his expression.

this is dangerous territory.

you should walk away.

you don’t.

but then you think about that girl inside, the way he leaned in so easily, the way it took him this long to come after you.

"you say that," you murmur, voice quieter now, "but you still went back to your usual thing the second i wasn’t around."

jay flinches.

"it didn’t mean anything," he says, quickly, desperately. "i wasn’t even thinking about her."

"exactly," you say bitterly. "you weren’t thinking at all."

jay opens his mouth, then closes it.

"you don’t even realize what you’re doing," you continue, voice tight. "you don’t realize how easily you slip into old habits. you say this is different, but are you sure?"

"yes," jay says, without hesitation.

you laugh, but it’s broken. "then why do i feel like i’m just setting myself up to get hurt?"

he doesn’t have an answer for that.

silence stretches between you, heavy and suffocating.

jay looks like he wants to say something, to fix this somehow, but what is there to fix? he’s still the same jay park who flirts with everyone, who doesn’t think before he acts, who only realizes too late that he might actually care.

"you’re not ready for this," you whisper.

"i am," he insists, but there’s something fragile in his voice, something that tells you even he isn’t sure if he’s telling the truth.

you shake your head. "i don’t think you are."

jay reaches out, just a little, like he wants to touch you, like he wants you to stay.

but you step back.

his hand drops.

and with that, you turn around and walk away.

jay doesn’t call after you.

he doesn’t chase you this time.

and maybe that tells you everything you need to know.

—

you avoid him.

it’s not hard at first. you’re in different years, different circles. you stop going to the café where you know he likes to hang out between classes, ignore the parties minju tries to drag you to, and duck your head whenever you spot him on campus.

the only problem is that jay notices.

you’re not sure when it happens, but at some point, jay park—fuckboy, campus heartbreaker, the guy who shouldn’t care—is suddenly watching you.

you feel it in the way his eyes linger too long when you pass by in the hallway, in the way his conversations falter when you’re around, in the way his whole demeanor shifts whenever you deliberately turn away.

he doesn’t chase after you.

but he’s not ignoring it, either.

and that’s what makes it worse.

it would be easier if he didn’t care, if he went right back to flirting with someone else like nothing ever happened. but he doesn’t.

and that terrifies you.

so you run faster.

"okay, what is wrong with you?"

jay exhales sharply, gripping the pool cue tighter. "nothing."

"bullshit."

heeseung snatches the stick out of his hands before he can even attempt a shot. jay scowls, reaching for it, but heeseung just leans away.

"bro, you’ve been in the worst mood for, like, a week," jake says, spinning an unmarked beer bottle between his fingers. "just admit it."

jay glares. "admit what?"

heeseung rolls his eyes. "that you’re being a little bitch about this whole thing."

jay scoffs. "about what?"

"oh my god," jake groans. "are you in denial, or just stupid?"

jay clenches his jaw. "neither."

heeseung and jake share a look, and jay hates that they’re silently communicating in that annoying, knowing way that only best friends do.

"listen," heeseung starts, "you don’t do feelings. we get it. but this? whatever’s happening between you and—"

"don’t say their name," jay mutters, looking away.

heeseung smirks. "oh, so you do care?"

jay exhales, tilting his head back against the worn leather of the booth.

fuck.

he doesn’t know what this is.

he just knows that it sucks.

he didn’t think avoiding them would be a big deal. people walk away from him all the time, sometimes before he can even do it first.

but this?

this feels different.

it feels like something is missing. like something is slipping through his fingers and he’s too fucking slow to catch it.

"you don’t even like people," jake points out.

jay sighs. "i like you guys."

"yeah, but we don’t count," heeseung snorts. "we’re basically required to deal with your bullshit."

jay scoffs, shoving his shoulder, but heeseung just grins.

then, quieter, he says, "this is the first time you’ve actually looked miserable over someone."

jay doesn’t answer.

"so what are you gonna do about it?" jake asks.

jay exhales, drumming his fingers against the table.

he doesn’t know.

but he knows he can’t keep pretending this is nothing.

not anymore.

—

you don’t know why you look.

it’s just a normal afternoon. you’re heading toward the library, minju walking beside you, talking about something jisung said earlier.

and then you see him.

jay is standing near the campus courtyard, golden light catching the sharp edges of his jawline. he’s not alone.

there’s a girl with him. she’s standing close—too close. her hand is on his arm, fingers curling lightly around the sleeve of his jacket. she laughs at something he says, head tilting, eyes locked on his.

and jay?

jay just smiles.

it’s the same smile you’ve seen before, the same effortless charm, the same easy confidence that has made him a campus legend. he leans in slightly, talking low, his posture relaxed like he’s done this a thousand times.

because he has.

your chest tightens.

"hey, you okay?" minju asks beside you, nudging your arm.

you snap your gaze away, pulse quickening. you shouldn’t care. you knew what he was like before you even met him. you knew he flirted with anyone he found attractive, that he never had to try, that he never faced rejection.

you knew he was never meant to be serious.

so why does it feel like something inside you is caving in?

"yeah," you mumble. "just remembered something i have to do."

minju frowns, but you don’t give her a chance to question it. before she can say anything, you turn and walk the other way, ignoring the burning feeling in your chest.

you don’t look back.

and jay doesn’t notice you leaving.

yet, jay can tell something’s wrong.

he doesn’t know what it is, but he can feel it.

it’s in the way you won’t look at him, the way you walk past him like he’s just another face in the crowd.

at first, he thinks he’s imagining it. you were never friends to begin with—maybe you were just busy, maybe this is normal.

but the shift is undeniable.

before, you’d at least acknowledge him. you’d give him a polite nod, a passing glance, sometimes even a subtle eyeroll when you caught him flirting.

now?

nothing.

he sees you on campus, and you don’t even flinch.

he walks past your usual café, and you’re not there.

he catches you in the library and for a second. just a second. he swears you meet his gaze.

but then you turn away.

like he’s not even there.

he doesn’t plan to confront you.

but after a week of this, of whatever this is, he finds himself standing outside your dorm, hands shoved in his pockets, frustration bubbling under his skin.

he doesn’t even know why he’s here.

it’s not like you owe him anything.

but still, he knocks.

no answer.

he exhales sharply, rocking back on his heels, debating whether to try again.

then, he hears footsteps.

"what are you doing here?"

jay turns, finding jisung standing a few feet away, arms crossed.

"looking for y/n," jay says. "they’ve been… acting weird."

jisung raises an eyebrow. "and you just noticed?"

jay frowns. "what’s that supposed to mean?"

jisung exhales, shaking his head. "they saw you," he says simply.

jay’s stomach tightens. "...what?"

"the other day. in the courtyard. with that girl."

jay blinks, the memory slotting into place. shit.

"they saw you smiling at her," jisung continues, his voice even but firm. "letting her touch you. looking at her the way they thought—" he stops himself, sighing. "never mind."

jay’s pulse kicks up. "you think they—"

"they think they were stupid for believing you might actually be different with them," jisung cuts in, sharper now. "they think they almost fell for the same bullshit you pull on everyone else."

jay clenches his jaw.

fuck.

he wasn’t thinking. he didn’t even realize.

but now, remembering the moment, the way the girl had laughed, the way she had leaned in, the way he hadn’t pulled away—

he understands.

and it feels like he just lost something important without even knowing he had it.

"if you’re gonna say something, make it worth their time," jisung says. "because right now? they don’t want anything to do with you."

jay doesn’t answer.

because for the first time in his life, he’s the one who got it wrong.

he’s the one who let something real slip through his fingers.

and he has no idea how to fix it.

but he knows one thing—

he has to try.

—

you don’t expect him to be waiting for you.

it’s late. you just finished a study session with minju, and all you want is to go back to your dorm, crawl under the covers, and forget about everything—forget about him.

but as soon as you step into the dimly lit hallway leading to your room, you see him.

jay.

leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, jaw tight, eyes dark with something unreadable.

your heart stutters.

you hesitate, debating whether to turn around, pretend you didn’t see him. but then he looks up—really looks at you—and you know there’s no escape.

"we need to talk," he says, pushing off the wall.

fuck jisung for letting him in.

"i don’t think we do," you mutter, stepping past him, reaching for your door.

but before you can, jay moves, his hand catching your wrist—gently, cautiously, like he’s afraid you’ll pull away.

"please," he says.

you freeze.

he’s never said please before. at least, not like this. not as desperate as this.

slowly, you turn to face him, sighing. "jay—"

"just let me say this," he cuts in, eyes burning with something raw, something you’ve never seen on him before. desperation.

you press your lips together but nod.

jay exhales, running a hand through his hair. "i—fuck, i don’t know how to do this," he mutters, shaking his head. "i’m not good at this."

"then don’t," you say, voice sharper than you intended. "don’t stand here and feed me some excuse about how you 'don’t do relationships' or 'didn’t mean to hurt me.' i don’t want to hear it."

jay flinches. "that’s not what i was gonna say."

you cross your arms. "then what?"

he swallows hard, eyes flickering to the floor before meeting yours again. "i—i don’t know how to do this, because i’ve never felt like this before."

your breath catches.

"i didn’t even realize what i was doing," jay continues, voice quieter now. "i didn’t think. i’ve never had to. flirting, messing around—it’s just… easy. but you—" he exhales sharply. "you make things different."

you shake your head. "jay—"

"i don’t want anyone else," he interrupts, stepping closer, voice steady. "just you."

your chest tightens.

"and when you get bored?" you ask, voice barely above a whisper. "when someone new comes along?"

jay shakes his head immediately. "i don’t think i could ever get bored of you."

it’s too much.

too much to believe, too much to trust, too much to risk.

"how am i supposed to believe that?" you ask, eyes searching his face. "how am i supposed to believe you won’t wake up one day and decide i was just another name on your list?"

jay exhales, stepping even closer, until there’s barely any space between you. "because no one’s ever made me feel like this before."

your pulse is loud in your ears.

"i don’t know how to do relationships," he admits, voice low, honest. "i don’t know how to be what you deserve. but i want to try. i want to figure it out—with you."

he’s so close now. close enough that you can smell the faint scent of his cologne, close enough that you can see the hesitation in his eyes, the fear of being rejected, of losing you.

you shouldn’t.

you should walk away.

you should protect yourself, guard your heart, not fall for the one person who could break you the easiest.

but then jay reaches up, fingers brushing against your cheek, his touch hesitant, almost trembling.

"please," he murmurs, his voice almost breaking.

jay park—unshakable, confident, the fuckboy—is breaking in front of you.

and against all logic, all reason—you fall.

before you can think, before you can stop yourself, you close the space between you.

his breath catches, just for a second, before his lips press against yours, warm and desperate.

jay kisses you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, like he’s trying to prove every word he just said. his hands cup your face, pulling you closer, holding you like you’re something fragile—something precious.

and when you kiss him back, letting yourself believe—just for this moment—that maybe, just maybe, this could be real, he sighs against your lips, like he’s just found something he’s been searching for all along.

—

your relationship with jay park is different.

you knew it wouldn’t be easy, falling for someone who never had to try, who never had to work for love. but you never expected this.

never expected him to try so hard.

at first, it’s awkward. jay doesn’t know what he’s doing. he’s used to effortless flirting, meaningless hookups, relationships that start and end in the span of a night.

but with you?

he wants to be better. he wants to be different.

so he does things he’s never done before.

he waits for you after class, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, eyes lighting up when he sees you.

"did you eat?" he asks one day, falling into step beside you.

you blink. "uh… yeah?"

jay nods, looking relieved. "okay. cool. just—yeah. cool."

he’s awkward. jay park, campus fuckboy, the smooth talker who never falters, is awkward.

you bite back a smile. "did you eat?"

he hesitates.

you raise an eyebrow. "jay."

he clears his throat. "…no."

you sigh, grabbing his sleeve and dragging him toward the campus café. he lets you, grinning like you just gave him the world.

the first time he reaches for your hand, it’s so casual that you almost miss it.

you’re sitting next to each other, watching a movie in the dorm common room. your hand rests between you, fingers brushing against his.

then, slowly, hesitantly, jay links his pinky with yours.

your heart stutters.

you glance at him, but he’s staring straight at the screen, his jaw tight, his ears slightly red.

you bite your lip.

then, without a word, you let your fingers slip fully into his.

jay stiffens for half a second. then, his grip tightens, and he exhales, shoulders relaxing.

he doesn’t let go for the rest of the movie.

he’s not used to jealousy.

or rather, he’s not used to his own jealousy.

he’s seen people get possessive over him before, watched girls glare when he flirted with someone new, felt the heat of their disappointment when they realized he wasn’t theirs.

but now?

now he understands.

he understands because he’s standing in the middle of campus, watching some guy—some random guy—smile at you like he has a chance.

and jay hates it.

he crosses the distance before he can think, sliding an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his side.

"hey, baby," he murmurs, voice low, casual, possessive.

your eyes widen. "jay?"

"who’s this?" jay asks, looking at the guy.

the guy blinks, glancing between the two of you. "uh, just—just a classmate."

jay smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. "cool. yeah. we gotta go, though."

you barely have time to say goodbye before jay is leading you away, his grip firm but gentle.

once you’re out of earshot, you elbow him. "what was that?"

jay shrugs. "didn’t like the way he was looking at you."

you roll your eyes. "you can’t just—"

he stops walking, turning to face you, eyes serious. "i know i don’t have the right," he admits. "but i don’t like it. i don’t like the idea of someone else thinking they can have you."

your breath catches.

"you’re mine," jay says, voice softer now. "right?"

you stare at him for a moment.

then, finally, you sigh, reaching up to flick his forehead.

"yeah," you mutter. "i’m yours."

jay grins, rubbing his forehead. "damn right."

heeseung and jake pretend to be disgusted.

"you’re whipped," jake says, shaking his head.

"nah, man, this is worse than we thought," heeseung adds. "he’s holding hands in public."

jay glares at them from across the table, but he doesn’t let go of your hand.

"you guys are just mad i have a functional love life," he says.

jake snorts. "yeah, sure. functional."

"bet he calls them ‘baby’ over text," heeseung whispers loudly.

jake gasps. "you think he—"

"shut up," jay groans.

you’re trying not to laugh. "do you?"

jay glares at you, but his ears are red. "i hate you."

you grin. "you love me."

jay rolls his eyes.

but then, under the table, he gives your hand a squeeze.

and you know—

even if he’ll never admit it out loud—

he really does.

—

you constantly look back and don’t know when you started believing him.

maybe it was the first time he held your hand without thinking, his fingers curling around yours so naturally, like he didn’t need to pretend anymore.

or maybe it was when he let you steal his hoodie, even though you were sure he’d never let anyone do that before.

or maybe—just maybe—it was when you saw the way he looked at you.

because it’s different now.

jay park, the guy who used to flirt with anyone just for fun, the guy who never stuck around, only looks at you.

"okay, but seriously," jake says, pointing a fry at jay. "how the hell did this happen?"

you’re sitting in the corner booth of a diner near campus, squeezed between jay and the wall. heeseung and jake are across from you, both staring like you’re some kind of unsolvable mystery.

jay takes a slow sip of his drink. "what do you mean?"

"you!" heeseung gestures wildly. "relationship jay. committed jay. ‘not flirting with every breathing human’ jay."

"it’s called growth," jay deadpans.

"it’s called ‘i fell first, and i fell hard,’" jake teases, smirking.

jay huffs. "whatever, man."

but he doesn’t deny it.

heeseung leans forward, grinning. "okay, but who confessed first?"

jay opens his mouth—

"me, obviously," you interrupt.

jay’s head snaps toward you. "what?"

you shrug. "you’re a coward. took you forever to admit you liked me."

jake laughs. "ohhh, he got you there."

jay glares at you, but you just smile, nudging his foot under the table.

you laugh, “joking, it’s complicated.”

heeseung rests his chin in his palm. "man, i never thought i’d see the day."

"what day?" you ask, amused.

"the day jay park became a simp."

jay groans, burying his face in his hands. "i hate all of you."

you pat his arm. "no, you don’t."

he exhales, tilting his head to look at you. his eyes soften.

"yeah," he murmurs. "i don’t."

—

later that night, after jay walks you back to your dorm, you linger outside the door.

he doesn’t leave right away.

instead, he leans against the wall, hands in his pockets, just looking at you.

you tilt your head. "what?"

jay hesitates, then exhales sharply.

"it’s weird," he mutters. "this whole time, i thought i had everything figured out. i thought i knew what i wanted. but then you came along, and suddenly, nothing made sense anymore."

your chest tightens.

"i didn’t get it at first," jay continues, eyes flickering to the ground. "why i got so annoyed when you ignored me. why i kept looking for you in every room. why i couldn’t flirt with anyone else without feeling like it was wrong."

he finally meets your gaze.

"but now i do."

your fingers tighten around the door handle, heartbeat loud in your ears.

"i don’t want to be the guy i was before," he murmurs. "not with you."

you swallow. "jay—"

"i know i’m not good at this," he cuts in. "i know i’m gonna mess up. i know i don’t deserve you."

his voice drops lower, almost hesitant. almost afraid.

"but i want to try. and i want you to let me."

for a moment, neither of you speak.

then, finally—

you sigh, shaking your head. "god, you’re such an idiot."

jay blinks. "huh?"

you step forward, grabbing the collar of his hoodie and pulling him down until your foreheads touch.

"you’ve had me this whole time," you murmur.

jay’s breath stutters.

then, slowly—hesitantly—his arms wrap around you, holding you against him, warm and real.

"yeah?" he whispers.

you nod. "yeah."

jay exhales a shaky laugh, squeezing you tighter.

"thank god," he mutters. "i don’t think i could’ve handled losing you."

you smile against his shoulder.

neither could you.

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bringbackmaes14 · 2 days ago

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Genderfluid person and would be fine with it. My stepmom is the person who helped me be okay with it.

My stepmom got diagnosed with breast cancer in 2016. Back in 2016 I still identified as a woman and I was very attached to my long hair (it was probably down to my butt at that point). Well of course when my stepmom started chemo her hair started falling out, and I saw how upset she was about it. She got to the point where she asked my dad to shave her head for her, not all the way bald, mind you, more into a crew cut style just so all the hair that was falling out wasn't super long big clumps.

And my dad is. Well. I don't know why my stepmom is still married to him and I don't know why he's not in prison for events of my childhood let's just describe his personality that way.

So he's buzzing her head and he tells her he has a surprise for her. And my younger sister and I watch in horror as my father proceeds to change the head of the razor for a closer cut and shave a horseshoe into the top of my stepmom's head (she's an Indianapolis Colts fan). She was mortified when we started yelling and telling him to stop and she realized what he was doing but the damage was already done. He tried to laugh it off and say her hair was gonna fall out anyway so what did it matter if they did silly things with it. Then when that bothered her more he tried to shave the horseshoe into a heart and tell her he loved her but then of course she had an even larger bald spot on her head, and at that point, through tears, she just told my dad to shave her head completely.

So as much as my stepmom tried to make becoming bald her decision (because it was inevitable because of the chemo), that little bit of control she had over it was taken by my dad, and I remember how much that hurt her. I remember my stepmom trying out different wigs and bandanas and hats. She'd wear them whenever she left the house. In the early days, she's even put on a hoodie or hat just to go get the mail from the mailbox. She was embarrassed of her baldness (she told me that, wanna make that clear, I'm not just assuming her feelings). She even wore them around me and my siblings for the first week or two after my dad shaved her head.

I always felt really bad because I thought my stepmom was pretty before her head was shaved, and while I definitely wasn't used to seeing her bald or with a wig, I didn't think it made her look bad either. Honestly nowadays it's weird to imagine my stepmom with hair because she's been bald for so many years now lol.

But I remember one night after dinner that kinda changed things. My dad and stepmom's house was open concept, so you could look out over the kitchen island right into the dining room and on the back dining room wall were these huge windows that looked out on the back deck.

My stepmom was standing at the kitchen sink, at that island, washing the dishes and I'm clearing the table. We're having a conversation about something or other, I don't really remember what, but what I do remember is getting cut off suddenly because my stepmom looks up from the sink towards where I'm standing in the dining room during the conversation and very suddenly gets startled, gasps, and then doubles over laughing. She was cackling in a way where I couldn't help but laugh myself even though I didn't know what was so funny.

I asked her what was so funny, and when she was finally able to catch her breath she told me that she thought she saw some random weird old guy standing on the porch but it was just her reflection in the window and it was so ridiculous that she couldn't help but laugh.

It was kind of from that point on that my stepmom became a lot more comfortable with her baldness. I gained a lot of respect for her in that moment and a lot of clarity about my own life. I think that was the first time in my life that someone had shown me it was okay to laugh about your own illness/disability. I'd had other people, even family members and people I thought were friends, laugh at my disabilities. And my mom (who primarily had custody of me and my siblings) kinda always freaked out about any self-depricating humor or humor that otherwise played up our disabilities so they weren't jokes I grew up feeling comfortable making (for fear of setting off my mom, not because I personally wasn't comfortable). But it was my stepmom who showed me there are ways to be silly and stupid about my disabilities and to laugh them off and not be so serious about them so they don't have to drown me every moment of the day, even when the physical aspects meet me every time I look in the mirror.

And like I said, it's hard to imagine my stepmom not being bald now. And because of her I don't think I'd be too worried about it because I think even if I didn't like it at first I could learn to laugh about it.

(I actually came pretty close to shaving my head last year. I keep the sides/back of my head shaved with it longer on top, and I officially decided to do that because of my shoulder injury and how much trouble I was having brushing my hair and keeping it out of my face on windy days on campus, but I almost considered getting a fully shave. I've just kept the style I got for ease because I ended up also liking it for gender reasons!)

We ask your questions anonymously so you don’t have to! Submissions are open on the 1st and 15th of the month.

#bald #hairstyle #dot says #my stepmom #polls #polls about hair #cancer #cancer tw #chemotherapy

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hauntedjellyfishwitch-blog · 3 days ago

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Blankets & Burdens

Summary: Sometimes, just sometimes, she catches him flinch.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader (No use of Y/N)

TW: Very brief mentions of childhood abuse. Brief mention of Merle (He's always a warning). Mostly fluffy with just a sprinkling of angst.

A/N: This is a chapter from a Daryl series I'm writing, but I wanted to see if it would be of interest to anyone before I start posting chapters.

Daryl is great in a fight, hell of all people she’s ever met if she wanted anyone to fight with it’d be Daryl, he’s quick and instinctive and strong, but sometimes, sometimes she catches the flinch. Not the usual flinch of being hit, the flinch that tells for a split second he remembers. The flinch of the little boy he used to be, the flinch that makes her see him scared and sad and alone. The flinch that makes her see fucking red.

He barely bats an eyelid at walkers, they’re as easy to him as Squirrels now, but when the bigger man’s fist is millimetres from his face she sees him flinch as if watching it in slow motion. She barely remembers moving until she finds herself standing over his lifeless body with her hands bloody. He’s easily almost double her size, hefty as well as strong but fingertips drip onto the ground with a deafening thud that she should barely be able to hear.

There’s a tremor in her hands as she looks at them, she’d like to blame the cold for it but she knows it isn’t the weathers fault. It’s been hotter than Satan’s asshole for weeks, so why they had to go hunting on the coldest day of the damn apocalypse she’ll never know but she hasn’t turned down an invitation for his company yet. He asks if she wants to join and the easy answer of yes rolls off her tongue before she’s even thought about his question. She’d say yes to anything as long as he asked.

“Thanks”

His voice startles her out of her thoughts, and she knows him well enough to know that’s on purpose, so she raises a fleeting smile in his direction suddenly feeling warmer just for having looked at him. She clenches her fist to try and calm the movement in her hand, just missing the way his gaze flicks down and back up in time to clock it. He’s observant to an alarming degree.

“Always”

Daryl’s arm cracks loudly as he pulls the blade out of the mans torso, grunting as he adjusts it in its socket to make sure he hasn’t just dislocated it. She nods towards it as he awkwardly hands her the machete back, trying to ignore the fact his fingers touch hers, trying to ignore the way it electrifies him or the way she shakes.

“You okay?”

“’m fine”

He brushes her off as if the joint doesn’t sting, as if his whole body doesn’t hurt already when he wakes up, as if any of them have been okay since everything started. Sure, the prison is a million times better than being on the road, but its not exactly comfortable and he doubts anything will ever be safe again; what’s a little shoulder pain if not another inconvenience on top of a never ending plethora of inconveniences.

There’s a fire going that night. It burns just outside the courtyard where they’ve dragged a handful of chairs to hide, enough behind a building to be out of the line of sight from the walkers gathering by the fence. He watches for a moment as she tries to warm herself up, still delicate hands running the length of her arms as she stares at the flames in front of her. He’s been surprised that she’s managed to stay gentle in all of this, always a smile or a laugh for him but her face looks haunted.

He watches her more often than he’ll admit to, though he’ll admit to exactly zero watching if anyone dared to ask, which they wouldn’t because he still looks terrifying to most people. He’s definitely not in love with her, no way, he definitely doesn’t lay awake at night thinking about how he’d like to grow old with her. Zero thinking or watching, if anyone asked, thank you very much.

He toes his boot on the concrete as he tries to decide if he should leave her alone. He doesn’t, of course, because he can’t. Hasn’t been able to since he found her in a cabin in the woods with more holes than walls. Excuse after excuse to be close to her, and okay there’s a tiny spark of hope in him that feels like she seeks him out too, but he’s never allowed himself to entertain the blossom of it for more than a split second before his low self-esteem takes over.

“Ya alright?”

“Yeah”

Her voice sounds far away, quiet and floating in the middle distance as she stares through the fire without turning to look at him. He sits on a chair next to her, tapping his fingers against his jean covered knee to stop from reaching out to hold her hand or something equally embarrassing.

“Ya sure?”

“I didn’t even blink”

“Huh?”

“Saw you flinch and I just wanted him off you, didn’t even hesitate”

“Yeah” he doesn’t know what to say, he’s had the same urge for her countless times. He never hesitates; he likes the group, he really does despite his disposition, but he thinks they’d probably have to think twice if it was a decision to save him. He doesn’t have a response for knowing she wouldn’t.

“People talk you know? Stuff about your brother”

He grunts in acknowledgment, but he doesn’t have a response. Of all the places he thought this conversation might go, Merle never crossed his mind.

“I think maybe we’re not as different as you think we are. I saw the way you flinched, I…recognised it” She pauses for a beat, flicking her gaze up to him, catches the way he chews on his lip before she continues “I don’t know who or what-“

“I ain’t gon-“

“I’m not asking. I’m just sorry that’s not something you got to tell me in your own time”

He’s taken back by the care in the sentence, though he shouldn’t be. She’s given him pause numerous times with the amount of consideration she shows. He’s not the only observant one between them.

She shivers violently, bopping the soles of her trainer covered feet on the ground to make her body shake.

“Ya alright?”

“Freezing. Can’t get warm, been cold for fucking hours” She tries to laugh but he hears the way her teeth clench as she grits the sentence out. They’ve been back since before sundown, she should have warmed up by now.

“Ya want my jacket?”

“No, I think I’m going to bed” She pauses as she stands. Rests her hand on his shoulder with a firm but gentle squeeze, he resists the urge to gasp at how cold her hands are “Thanks though”

The gentle tap of knuckles against metal makes her lift her head. It’s quiet enough not to wake her if she’d been sleeping, and that alone tells her its Daryl before he even draws back the makeshift curtain. For all of his gruff exterior, considerations seeps from his every pore even without trying.

“Brought ya a blanket”

His voice is low, hushed and gruff at the edges but he holds it out to her like a kid who might get scolded for it. She shuffles up slightly, smiling at him in the dim light from the hallway.

“This your one?” She asks, knowing there’s hardly spare anything in this place anymore, taking it and bunching it up under her nose to inhale the smell of him, knowing it’ll look like she’s testing her theory instead of relishing it.

He doesn’t answer which is in itself an answer, she shakes her head, holding it back towards him.

“Jus’ take it”

She studies the way his sock clad feet twitch against the floor, the slightly wringing of his hands in front of him, nervous and shy in a way that’s so him but shouldn’t be.

“Want to share with me?”

“Nah, it’s okay”

She opens the blanket covering her with her free arm, refusing to take her eyes of his face to see if she’s imagining what’s been under the surface with them. It’s minute really, a split second that she’d have missed had she not been looking for it, but his eyes flick down to her bare legs, jaw clicking in what looks like restraint. She tilts her head to the side like a dog trying to understand a situation that seems familiar but isn’t.

“’Cause you don’t want to, or ‘cause you think I don’t?”

He doesn’t answer. Her options are push him out of his comfort zone or take his only blanket and neither seem like a great option, but he hasn’t stopped looking at her and he doesn’t seem like he wants to make a Daryl sized hole in any of the walls.

“Won’t even touch you if you don’t want me to”

A pause, a scoffed laugh under his breath. She expects him to ignore the tease entirely. He’s shy, tentative, she’s not even sure he feels anything like she does but he accepts the invitation with a stiff nod, closing the curtain behind him so the light blurs out. She can just about make out the solid shape of him as he steps forward.

He’s quiet at the best of times, hunting trained steps that are softer than they seem they would be, but he barely makes a sound until he’s sitting on the edge of her cot. Shaky sigh leaving barely parted lips as he eases his legs up onto the bed; sliding under the blanket she offers; throwing his own one on top of them both haphazardly.

“Didn’t say that, did I?”

He lifts his arm up, above her head, sucking in a sharp quiet breath when she burrows into the crook, resting her head on his firm bicep and avoiding his shoulder. Its not like he was expecting her to face the wall or anything, but he’ll never stop being shocked by the casual affection she offers.

“Don’t want to hurt your arm”

He huffs, using his other hand to shift her into a slightly more comfortable but closer position so her head Is resting on his chest. He studies the top of her head like it holds all the answers, like if he can just focus on the tip of her nose that he can see past her hairline he can magically work out what this means.

“Why ya s’ kind to me?” He whispers, as if he hasn’t spent all day caring for them all, hasn’t given up his blanket and his bed to keep her warm. He thinks she might have drifted off before she answers, soft voice low and drenched in the threat of sleep. Comfortable. Warm.

She moves a hand up to his chest, rests it over his heart so she can hear the steady thudding under her palm, presses her lips to the cold skin on his cheek

“Why don’t you think you deserve it?”

“Go t’ sleep”

A snort, dismissive in a way she normally wouldn’t let him get away with. Normally he’s not wrapped around her though, normally the beginnings of rest aren’t pulling behind her eyelids whilst he holds her.

“Goodnight Daryl”

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ladyrosemone · 2 days ago

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HEAR ME OUT 🗣🗣‼️

Using Google Translate here, sorry if something doesn't make sense

I love the angst plot about the neglected reader; and don't get me wrong, I love it more when the batfamily grovels for forgiveness from the "forgotten child"

But then...nothing happens, and I'm left...And now?

They either crumble under the obsession, or fight in an endless cycle, or give up and succumb to Stockholm syndrome. I love reading them, but I always wanted something...more.

And here I leave my contribution.

Reader Wayne -biological to follow tradition- abandoned LEADER of a underworld.

Stay with me;

Tired of being invisible and insignificant before the wonderful talents of Bruce's chosen children (not father, he never was), not even being a priority for Alfred (admittedly, he abandoned his daughter in favor of the Waynes, I think It is more credible that we go to the fifth plane for him) What do you do with free time, selfishness disguised as empathy and a lot of money at your fingertips? You open a brothel first.

You attract all kinds of people; drug addicts who would do anything for easy money and easier drugs, people in need of jobs and guidance, the low and forgotten of Gotham, the women (touching on the subject with all the respect it deserves) who have nothing to lose or with some extra mouths to feed. In short, everything that the city abandoned by God leaves aside.

Little by little, in silence and discretion, we become recognized; Deals here, influences there, and in a moment, we ruled the underworld. We offer all kinds of services to the villains of Gotham, alliances and protection, secrets and methods of elimination, lust and accompaniment, everything in a bit.

Do you remember that loan we took out when we left? Maybe Bruce or Tim found the charge on a document, and the purchase was...a house outside of Gotham? Who bought it? Dick? Jason? Maybe Cassandra or Stephenie? Well, whoever it was, it's a piece of junk about to fall down, so what difference does it make?

There is something more important to do. (There is always that with them, right?) Maybe it's too complicated a mission even for all of them together, or they just need that piece of the puzzle to win once again, whatever they need takes them to Gotham's underworld, takes them to Sanctuary.

How fun! New pieces have joined the board, and what pieces...In the style of his good friend Edward (The Riddler), leaves little clues that bring them closer to the reader, the Savior, to whom they all owe something and serve him.

Inevitably our ego (perhaps a savior complex or a degree of narcissism) makes us want to reveal ourselves to them, and we meet them at the suburban house they left aside.

Surprise! The unknown child is now the most influential crime boss of his generation! Aren't you proud? Of course, business and family don't mix.

All help is given with the Savior (us) in exchange for something clear, the profits do not come alone, and all he asks for is...Time together?...Of course.

Coffee chats with Bruce (the press mistakes them for a new conquest, disgusting), gymnastics with Richard (since when can you contort like that?!) reading with Jason (they have the same tastes apparently) playing video games with Tim (and hack a few government accounts) taking care of animals with Damian (You have a whole zoo with exotic rescued animals!) shopping with your sisters or just staying silent with Cassandra, even Duke gets his quality time! (Why they accepted him immediately, what does he have that I don't)

It makes them realize something they lost, the funny thing is they never had it in the first place, and knowing that hurts more than any wound.

We know that, and we use it (like everything) to our advantage. And in the end, with the service done and the day saved, we don't need any more of them, The door is over there!

Only that the sinner has already tasted God's forgiveness, why would he want to leave him?

So they keep coming back, trying to get you to leave that evil path (according to them) and come home, safe, to them. But not out of love (there is no such thing as love for a Wayne), but out of guilt, which becomes a need, which becomes an obsession.

And while we should be careful with that...it's more entertaining to be the puppeteer than the puppet. There is no compassion, there is no empathy, there is no affection or pity; There's ambition, there's status, there's power, and in a world like Gotham, that's all that matters.

And the bat family knows it; They are not stupid, they know that you are using them, like a dog waiting for a caress, a rope to be pulled to open the door, salvation itself...maybe it is their fault acting on them, but they will not let go of the crumbs that are given to them we give.

There is no happy ending, only an unhealthy relationship between the two; the most powerful playing, we know that if we keep pushing, a prison will be a more merciful destiny.

But we don't care anymore, not now that we have the world in our hands.

#batfam x reader #yandere x reader #reader fic #Reader #Abandoned reader #batfam x batsis #batsis!reader #Batboy!reader #yandere dc

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awriterinthenight · 1 day ago

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"Well I Missed You Too."-Megumi Fushiguro

words: 946

warnings: kissing, megumi makes reader sad, that's it also i'm trying writing for a new fandom so enjoy

summary: How Megumi changes how he shows affection to you

Whether it was kissing, hugging, or even just holding your hand, Megumi was always too shy to show you affection in public. He'd do small acts like buying your favorite snack from the vending machines, or grabbing something out of your reach. But never did he do anything that involved touching you in any way, since it made him blush, and he didn't want people, especially Gojo, teasing him about how red his face got.

You'd first learned about his aversion to PDA when you first started dating. You were training with the 2nd years, when Itadori had taken a nasty hit from Maki. While you knew he was fine, it still worried you, so your hand instinctively grabbed Megumi's without thinking. When you were in private he always held you in some way, so you thought he'd be ok with this.

Instead of him grabbing your hand back or squeezing it comfortably. He immediately froze and stiffened at the contact, his face turning bright red. He dropped your hand, turning away so you couldn't see his face. You were left confuse as to what you did wrong. Maybe he just didn't expect it, or maybe he didn't think you needed to grab his hand. Either way it brought down your mood for the day.

Megumi knew you weren't ok, no matter how many times you said you were fine. He knew that wasn't a good sign. So there Megumi was after school standing in front of your door knocking. After a minute or two you swung your door open, Megumi speaking before you could.

"Did I do something?" he asked, his head hung low, surprising for someone usually so stoic.

You were shocked for a moment before regaining your composure, letting Megumi into your room, and closing the door behind you.

"Yes, well no," you stumbled, unable to find your words, "It's just, when you dropped my hand I-I felt bad. I thought I did something wrong," you admitted.

Megumi let out a breath, taking a step closer to you, "I didn't mean to make you feel like that. I like holding your hand, I swear. I just don't like being like that in front of people."

"I understand that," you said, nodding your head, "I just wish you'd told me, so I wouldn't have felt so embarrassed."

Megumi placed a kiss on the top of your head before he spoke, "I'm sorry, and I promise I will from now on."

Affection from Megumi shifted a bit the more you knew each other. Of course really all the kissing took place in private, or anything really affectionate. But slowly Megumi didn't mind holding your hand in front of your guy's friends, or placing a small kiss on the top of your head.

Megumi started to grow into the habit of either placing his arm around the back of your chair, or keeping his hand on your thigh. The more he was with you, the more he liked knowing that you were with him.

Recently he seemed to grow out of his shy shell. Before training started he would sometimes come up behind you, placing his hands on your waist, then planting a kiss on the top of your head. Sometimes he'd casually walk up behind you when you were talking to someone, and he would snake his arm around your waist.

Today he'd come back from a mission with Itadori and Kugasaki. You'd been forced to stay behind, recovering from an injury of a past mission. The second he saw you, he pulled you into his arms, burying your head into his chest. He'd missed you so much on the mission all he thought about was going back to you. His hand slid through your hair, the other holding you tightly against him.

"Is everything okay? Did something happen?" you asked, concerned since he never showed this much affection in front of people. Gojo was only a few feet away, and usually Megumi hated showing affection to you in front of Gojo, since he always got teased for it.

Megumi shook his head, tilting your chin forward, "No, nothing happened. I just missed you," he confessed.

"Oh," you exclaimed, surprised he was like this from just missing you, "Well I missed you too."

Unfortunately Gojo's loud voice ruined the moment when he shouted, "Get a room," before practically skipping over to the two of you. Megumi scowled, while you shook your head, finding his antics funny.

"So, I was thinking," Gojo said, swinging an arm around you two, and walking with you, "Why don't I treat you guys to dinner. By that I mean you two can go out and I'll pay," he offered, chuckling a bit for some reason no one understood.

Megumi rolled his eyes, "I don't need you to pay. I'm staying in tonight, I'm too tired to go out."

"I try to do something nice and I get denied. If you don't want me and my money I'll just leave," Gojo muttered, walking away from you too.

Megumi slid his arm around your waist, leaning on you a bit. He was tired and just wanted to sleep and rest. Eventually you and him got to his dorm, lying down on his bed.

It was quiet till Megumi broke the silence, "I'm too tired to take you out tonight, but I'll take you on a date tomorrow," he said, his voice barely a whisper, "I really did miss you."

You snuggled closer to him, wrapped up in his arms, "I missed you too, and I can't wait." You gave him a small kiss before falling asleep to the sound of his breathing

Ask to be added to taglist, I'm keeping this one separate from my other one

#x reader #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #jjk megumi #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu megumi

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sweetbillwriting · 1 day ago

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Way Out of Line

SIX

Beneath my perfume and make-up I'm just a baby in disguise. And though I know that it's wrong to be alone with him that "come on look" is in my eyes.

Character: Keith Toshko from Barbarian (2022) played by Bill Skarsgård.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, heavy themes.

I wore a simple skater dress with a pair of black ballerina flats. You could see the dress was expensive, though, because it was made with thick black silk. It was purchased that autumn but I had only worn it once to the Thanksgiving dinner one of my dad's patients held. I felt really pretty in the dress but not too overdressed, but I was compared to Keith. He didn't seem to be the kind of guy who dressed up, and he wore the same outfit from earlier that day. I didn't mind because he looked handsome in everything, and it was a bit sexy that he didn't care, even if the restaurant was a really fancy one. I was once again surprised he had spent so much money on me, and I looked at him with big eyes while he ordered champagne for himself.

“I’ll have the same,” I said with a blush. Keith turned his eyes to me.

“You don't need to, honey.”

“I want to.”

I smiled a little and turned towards the waiter again.

“Okay…” Keith looked at the waiter and smacked his lips. “Bring us the bottle then. Dom Perignon."

We cheered in our sparkling wine, and he told me about his younger years. For a couple of years he lived in the town we were in. He was an off the books working musician and also found extra work in an industry making glass bottles. It was a simple life, but he talked about it like it had been wonderful years.

“How old were you?” I asked with a smile while they served our first course.

“It was when I dropped out of college, so 24, 25?”

He started to eat his foie gras like he ate a fried egg, but right then and there I didn't think about how nonchalantly he ate the luxury food but just imagined a younger Keith.

“Why did you become friends with my dad? He was like thirty when you were twenty…”

Keith licked his knife and looked at me with his big green eyes. He looked so kind and innocent now as he sat there, compared to how I had seen him before.

“I guess we got along, and he didn't treat me like I was just… yeah.” He shrugged his shoulders and licked off his fork too. I nodded a little even if I didn't know what he meant. He cleared his throat and took one more sip of the champagne. I could see that he didn't want to talk about my dad anymore. Instead he asked me about what I would do during the weeks he was away, and that led us to talk about my family's yearly ski trip to Aspen. Keith didn't ski but still seemed curious about our trip that we would leave for in a week. He was sweet that way, always showing interest in my things.

The nice conversation, the good food, and his warm smile in candlelight made me relax a bit too much, so when Keith ordered a bottle of red wine for our venison, I drank some of that too. I never drank so much, and on the way home, it was obvious to everyone around us that I was really drunk.

If I had been more sober, I would have noticed people looking at us in a different way now when I needed to lean on him and my mascara had started to smudge. Earlier we had gotten away with him looking older than me, but now people looked at him skeptically when he almost carried me to a taxi and I was whining about how sorry I was. He was also so much bigger than me that there was no question he owned all the power.

“Miss, are you okay?” asked a middle-aged couple when we stood waiting on the elevator. I was pressed against Keith's side and whined about the spinning world around me. Keith looked at the couple, then down at me.

“Yeah?” I said, trying to hold my gaze straight.

“Are you here with your—?” Asked the man before looking at Keith. He looked at him with fear but kept himself straight because he knew he couldn't do anything there.

I giggled a little, totally oblivious to their worry but that was also what made my answer much more sincere and believable.

“Keith? He's my boyfriend.” I looked at him and spilled all my daydreams like they were real facts. “I love him so much. We will get married one day.” I giggled and hugged him around his waist. Keith smiled at the couple awkwardly.

“I promise you, there was just a bit too much wine for dinner,” he said and then turned his gaze to the elevator door that opened in front of our eyes. The woman giggled a little.

“Okay, have a nice night.”

“You too,” said Keith with a strained smile while leading me into the empty elevator. When the door had closed, I looked up at him with a dopey smile. He smiled back with a sigh and dragged his hands through my hair.

“I will never give you wine again.”

I giggled and stood up on my toes so he could kiss me, and he did while holding me up straight. Even if my head was spinning and I felt a bit sick, I couldn't understand why he didn't think I should drink alcohol. I felt sexy, confident, and brave, so when our kiss should have been over, I deepened it and dragged my hand over his crotch. Even through the thick denim fabric, I could feel his bulge, and my pulse wandered down between my legs at once. Keith breathed out deeply in my mouth and continued to kiss me while I unbuttoned his jeans and snuck down my hand in his charcoal-colored boxers. My hand met his half-hard length, and I took hold of it firmly. Even if I had been so confident from the alcohol, I became nervous when I actually stood there with my hand in his underwear. I didn't have a clue what I should do next. I wanted to be that wild, sexy girl, but I couldn't because I didn't know how they acted. The nerves made me also feel more sick, and I stumbled slightly when Keith leaned back to see what I did to him. He caught me in his arms at once and sighed again. Carefully he pulled my hand away from him and laid it on his chest instead.

“This is not a good idea, baby girl. You need to sleep and… We're in an elevator.”

I looked up at him in shame, close to tears, but the elevator opening interrupted me. Lucky for us, there was no one outside of it, so Keith lifted me up koala style and let his jeans hang open. It was nice being carried through the hallway without needing to think about putting my foot in front of the other. I just needed to think about Keith's heavenly scent and his broad shoulders. I really wanted him, but he was probably right. I needed to sleep.

In the suite, Keith sat me down on the bed and helped me with my coat and shoes. Even if he was crouched down in front of me, he felt so big, and for a short second, I felt so powerless. I really was alone with such a big man. He could do whatever he wanted with me, but when he looked up at me with his boyish good looks, I forgot about the silly feeling and just giggled when he stood up to be able to open the zipper on the back of my dress and pull it off of my body with some struggle. I watched him hanging it up in a hanger in the wardrobe and putting my shoes and coat by the door. It looked like he was used to taking care of someone, so when he asked me to lie down so he could pull off my tights, I remembered the nickname he wanted to be called.

“You're my Daddy…”

I could feel his fingers on the lining of the tights stop moving just for a second, and then I could hear him say in a soft, protective way:

“Yes, baby girl. And I will take care of you. Just like a daddy should.”

I smiled and closed my eyes while he pulled off my tights. I had totally forgotten I wore the black lingerie set and how the lace didn't cover much of me; still, Keith didn't say anything about it.

“Do you want me to take off the bra or do you want to sleep in it?”

“Hmm?” I looked down at my chest, seeing the delicate fabric, and then sat up on my elbows so I could also see the panties. Keith stood in front of me with his hands on my knees, caressing them gently. I looked at him, even examined everything with him before spreading my legs even more, knowing he could see most of me.

“I want you, Daddy.”

Keith smiled but looked a little condescending when he laughed lowly.

“I can see that, but you need to sleep.”

“But Daddy…” I whined, letting the role of a whiny little girl take over. Playing the role was easy because, if I were honest, it had never left me; it was just that I whined for other things now.

“You're drunk and vulnerable right now. Whether you like it or not, I will not sleep with you in that state.”

I pouted, but he just answered with a laugh and then lifted me up and laid me down on the pillow.

“Bra on or off?” He said softly, as he played with the strap.

“Off,” I muttered. Keith was just smirking, amused at me, while he helped me pull off my triangle bra over my head which revealed my chest for him. I didn't want to cover up and instead challenged him by sitting up on my elbows.

“Daddy…” I whine again. It was weird how quickly the pet name had become his, but at that moment I couldn't see him as anything else. I knew he wasn't my boyfriend, but not just a friend. He was too caring to be a friend with benefits. He was my Daddy. Keith hushed me and laid the cover over me.

“The makeup and the rest we’ll take care of tomorrow, okay? Goodnight, baby.”

He hadn't even taken off his clothes, and I furrowed my brows.

“You don’t even lie in bed?”

“No, I will make myself ready for bed in the bathroom, and when I come out, you will be asleep.”

“No, I won't?”

"Yes, you will. Shut your eyes now.” He gave me a forehead kiss while I rolled my eyes under my eyelids. He spoke like he knew so much, but he also did because the next day when I woke up, I couldn't even remember him walking to the bathroom.

×××

I'm making the most of my life 'til the day that I hit 25. I know that they'll make an adult of me. I know that I'm not quite ready to be…

Of course I had heard about hangovers and feeling gross the next day after intoxication, but I had never experienced it, nor that morning did I feel it. I woke up almost on top of Keith's broad, naked body, using him more as a mattress than the bed. Carefully, I sat up to be able to see his face. His face lay in profile, pushed down in the pillow while he was snoring lightly. He was so beautiful, and I traced his jaw and cheekbone with my finger. He could have been a model if he wanted to. I looked down on his body again. His body was so attractive and manly, and when I looked at his member, my nether regions involuntarily clenched. He was soft, but still my body reacted to it. I wanted him inside of me again. It was a foreign feeling, the horniness, but with him I wanted to embrace it. It was too exciting together with him.

I pulled off my panties so I was as bare as him, then I scooted close to his body. I wanted him so bad that the feeling of needing to pee came back, and I pushed my fingers against my pussy to stop the pressure.

“Daddy, please wake up? Daddy?” I whined, pushing his chest. I continued to do so until I realized I needed to do more than that to wake him up. Clumsily, I mounted him and shook his shoulders.

“Daddy!”

Keith opened his eyes groggily and dragged a hand over his face. He started with looking at my face, but it didn't take long for him to realize I sat naked over his naked body and how I was so wet he could feel it seeping out on his lower belly. He didn't say anything; instead, he closed his eyes but dragged his hands over my naked thighs, hips, and bum. I started to believe he would continue to sleep, so I wiggled on top of him.

“Daddy!”

He hushed me but continued to drag his big hands over me, coming closer and closer to my pussy. I leaned back when I realized he wouldn't sleep at all and instead invited his fingers in between my lips to drag them through my wetness. I hoped he would find my clit again, but he was searching for my opening to see if I was ready for more than just a couple of fingers. He forced his fingers in harshly and moved them in and out of me in the same way. It did hurt a little, but I had started to get used to his harsher ways. With his other hand he took a hold of himself, his cock that was fully erect now, and asked for playtime.

“Lean forward…” He whispered and pulled his hand away from my pussy so he could push my back lightly. I did what I was told because I wanted the same thing as he, and I giggled when he dragged the head of his cock between my lips and cheeks. Keith gave me a dimpled smile but didn't open his eyes.

“It will probably hurt a bit now too, okay? I don't think you've gotten used to me.”

I looked at his face even if his eyes were shut.

“Okay…”

With one hand on my left cheek, he steered my hips, and the other holding his stiffness in place, he pushed himself in, in my sore pussy. I was obviously sore from the day before because it burned. I made some pained sounds that made Keith open his eyes, but instead of asking for relief, I sat up so more of him glided into my entrance.

Keith sat up on his elbow, so I sunk down even more on him, and he looked at me with a smirk.

“Good girl…”

I whined but let Keith force my ass down completely against him. I could feel him up in my belly and felt sick for a while until he lifted his hips so I fell forward against his chest a bit.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to stop?”

“No. God no.”

“Ride it then. Ride me hard.”

I moved the best I could against him, but he corrected my rhythm over and over. Some things did hurt too much, though; when he slipped in too deep or when he made me lay against his chest and fucked me so hard I could feel bruises shape just on the skin around my opening. I didn't stop though, not even when he put the soles of his feet against the bed and worked his hips up so hard I bounced on his length. He hit something in me that felt like a stabbing in my belly, but I didn't stop because it was too good to be close to him, to feel his hands and eyes on me. It felt like he was owning me for that moment. I wanted to be his in one way or another, and in that moment there was no doubt I was his.

I wasn't ready that in the middle of the pain an orgasm would start to build, but as soon as I started to moan louder and faster, Keith reacted and worked his hips even harder. Together we became louder, drowning out the sound of our slapping skin.

“Let it go! Let it go, baby!” He growled until I finally got ripped apart by the orgasm spreading from my pussy out in my limbs. I didn't notice that he came too until I felt his sticky juice run out of me, but he continued to work himself out of me even if the cream coated both of our sexes. He just continued to push it in until he was too soft to continue.

He laughed a little while lifting me off of him. I felt completely boneless but also so sore my pussy felt like an open wound. Still, I just looked at him like he was God himself. I had never felt anything like this and thought to myself that he was the meaning of life.

We lay next to each other, breathing deeply, until he smiled big at me.

“Your pussy is fucking heaven… Baby girl…”

He looked down and forced my knees apart so he could look at my pussy, spastic and swollen, smeared with his seed. I feared he would touch me again but he also knew I wouldn't say no to him.

“I will take care of her… Can you stand up?”

I shook my head because for me it was obvious my weak legs didn't work for the moment. Keith smirked a little and stood up on his own strong legs. His thigh muscles moved with every step.

“It's hard to take a shower then, but she can't look like that…” He lifted me up easily, bridal style, and took me to the bathroom. I wondered what he would do but followed him with an open mind.

Keith sat me down on the counter by the basin and encouraged me to put my feet up too. I felt really exposed where I sat naked with my legs spread like that, but I could also feel myself get wet again while Keith stood naked next to me, wetting a towel he would probably wash my intimate parts with. I could hear my pulse in my ears because I would have never let a guy do such a thing to me, never let a guy see me that exposed, but now I was there having a grown man pressing a wet towel between my legs like I couldn't take care of myself. Still, I liked it. I laid my hands on Keith's shoulders while he washed me, and I looked at his face. He looked so sweet and kind. He almost looked angelic with his big eyes, pixie nose, and full lips, but then he looked up at me with a hooded gaze and a small smirk. A look that changed his face.

“Say ‘thank you, daddy,’” he said when he was finished, still with the same dark expression. I looked at him with big eyes, mesmerized by his beauty.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

Cross my heart, uncross my legs. Oh, when I'm done, I better pray. I want the high, I want the rush. Don’t call it love, that's not enough…

×××

We had been careless and hadn't thought about protection, but when Keith realized I wasn't using any contraceptive, he hurried right away to buy the morning-after pill and then left me alone in the suite. I took the time to rest and showered when I felt the strength in my legs come back. In the shower I realized that Keith and I would say goodbye in just hours, and a lump formed in my throat. We had lived together for more than a month, but now he would go away for such a long time. I wanted to feel sure that he wouldn't forget me and that he wouldn't be with another girl, but I wasn't. Keith wasn't my boyfriend; he was someone else's husband albeit going through a divorce. In a way I was the mistress, but I couldn't be sure he would be satisfied with just me.

What did I even know about him? He had met my whole family; he knew where I studied and about my previous relationship. What did I know?

Dressed in just a fluffy robe after my shower, I opened his big suitcase, packed with all the belongings he had gotten from his separation. T-shirts and sweaters were folded in neat piles together with his laptop, cables, and earphones. In a pocket on the lid was a pair of running shoes and a burgundy raincoat. There wasn't much more than that, so instead I looked through his wallet that lay on the nightstand; he must have just taken a credit card with him. He had several credit cards, a gym membership card, his ID card, and a black anonymous card. I took a long look at his ID and dragged a finger over his picture. He looked so innocent with his big eyes looking directly into the camera. I gazed at the image with warm cheeks but laid the wallet down when I could feel the clock ticking. I walked back to the bathroom, but instead of fixing my hair as my plan was, I started to dig through his toiletry bag. It was dark blue and contained drugstore skin care and a well-used toothbrush in pink. It didn't look so interesting at first, but then in an inside pocket some interesting things were tucked in. Three condoms, a business card from a Susanne Leonel, and his wedding band. The ring was in brushed gold with a line in the middle made of platinum. I felt a bit sick looking at it in my palm, but I still tried it on all my fingers. It was far too big, and even if I felt sick knowing it was his wedding band, I smirked to myself. He was so big. While taking it off my little finger, I saw the engraving inside of it and gave it a closer look.

May & Keith 2015-05-30

“May”? Was that her name? Was his wife's name May? Was that even a name? I tried to picture how a May could look and could just see an old lady in front of me. I looked at myself in the mirror and let the robe slip down from my shoulders. I knew I was pretty, but I also knew I still looked a bit childish. May didn't look childish; I knew that. She probably was the same age as Keith; they had been married far too long for her to be much younger. Ten years. I was eleven when they got married. It was a weird thought, but I would rather be his young mistress than his old wife. I knew he would pick me over her. I opened up the robe and let it fall to the floor. I looked at my body closely, dragging my hands over perky nipples and rounded hips. He would pick me over May. I put the ring on my index finger and smirked at my own reflection. He didn't need the ring anymore so instead of putting it back in his toiletry bag I put it down inside my own, then I walked out naked to the bed, waiting for him with my legs spread wide.

The skyline falls as I try to make sense of it all. I thought I'd uncovered your secrets, but, turns out, there's more…

×××

Keith drove me home but not the whole way so my parents wouldn't see him come back. With teary eyes and a pussy that felt ripped apart, I said goodbye to him. He gave me several kisses while I begged him, Daddy, to not go, but he explained he needed to do his job, then he left me alone on the side of the road a few houses from my parents’ house, with my tears streaming. I knew I was silly, but something about him made me feel so small, like he needed to be close to me and take care of me. It was a tragic thought that I wouldn't see him for three whole weeks, and when I came into the house, I didn't even try to hide my tears. My dad looked up at me from the dinner table where he sat with his laptop and furrowed his brows.

“What is it, honey?”

“I just feel sick. I think I got the flu…” I cried and dried my cheeks while walking up the stairs. He walked out to the hallway and looked after me.

“Should I make some tea for you?”

“It's okay, Dad.”

I didn't even think about how I addressed him, but unconsciously he had become just Dad now. I had another Daddy now, the only man who could care and protect me. Keith Toshko.

×××

Don't leave me lonely. Don't leave me unhappy. Just bring me up into your fate. If you don't need me, then don't deceive me. Letting my freedom turn into stone. Just be my angel, if you love me…

I had stayed in my room, lying in bed like I actually was sick. My mom had checked up on me a couple of times, stroking my hair away from my forehead that wasn't warm and giving me tea for a throat that wasn't sore. The only thing that was sore was my pussy but also my aching heart. I missed him so much already, so when I got a text from him saying he took a break from the car ride to eat at McDonald's, I could feel my heart beating like a drum in my chest.

I miss you so much already.

I miss you too, baby. But I need to work. How are you feeling? Still sore?

I felt a blush on my cheeks because not only did I think about our time in the hotel room but also what I had said outside of the elevator. I had told the couple I loved him. I laid my hands over my face and made an involuntary sound of embarrassment. I was glad he hadn't brought it up because I understood he didn't have those feelings for me yet. He was not as naive and childish as me, but I didn't really know what I said was true either.

Yes, still sore. Do you know something that can help?

Haha, I dunno. I want to help you, baby, but I've never had those problems myself. I think you can buy calming creams at the drugstore. I think I remember something about yogurt, but that might be because it tastes better than lotion haha.

He could make me blush even if he was miles away, but the thing about yogurt didn't sound completely stupid; it sounded nice to have something cooling on, so I let him wait so I could get some yogurt, and he could guide me through it.

I walked down the stairs, obviously happier than I had been before, and prepared myself to say I felt better to my parents, but instead I sneaked into the kitchen where they were to not interrupt their conversation. Their conversation about Keith.

“That's so typical of him. Why can't he just accept a friendly hand for once?” Said my mom while she fixed herself a smoothie.

“I don't know. I guess he's just used to solving things like that,” answered my dad, leaning against the counter nonchalantly. It was obvious he didn't care as much as my mom. I opened the fridge, pretending to mind my own business.

“Solving? There is nothing to solve. We opened our home because we were worried for him, not to get money!”

“It's just his way to say thank you, Giselle. It's not like he can't afford it.”

“I know he can afford it! It's just sad that he feels obligated to pay everyone around him.”

I couldn't stop myself from turning around to look at them. I could almost guess what they were implying, but it didn't add up with Keith's humble ways.

“Is he rich?” I asked with the vanilla yogurt in my hand. My parents look at each other. My mom looked uncomfortable, but my dad just sighed.

“Yes. Keith is rich. Toshko Electronics?” With a finger, he lazily hit the logo on the mixer. “It's his family's company. He's filthy rich. He really wants to pretend to be a struggling artist, so don't say anything about it when he comes home again.”

I could hear a buzzing sound in my ears. It was probably the sound of all my thoughts and feelings flying around in my head. Keith was rich. Keith was a rich man in a divorce.

“His divorce will take ages, will it not?” I asked hopelessly without thinking about my question being weird. My mom gave me a strange look, but my dad seemed unbothered.

“Probably. She wants money while his family will not let her win, even if he just wants a friendly end.”

I could feel my eyes tearing up, and my mom gave me a worried look.

“What is it, honey?”

“Um… I just feel sorry for him. He's a really nice man. He deserves to move on.”

My mom nodded, but I could see in her eyes that she didn't really believe what I was saying. While I took a spoon, I ignored her looks, and then I walked up to my room where my phone rested on a pink pillow. Keith had sent one more message: his username on Snapchat.

So I can teach you how to put that yogurt on. It can get messy ;)

#bill skarsgård #bill skarsgard #fan fiction #writing #story #bill skarsgård writing #bill skarsgård fanfiction #fiction #barbarian #keith toshko #keith

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roachliquid · 2 days ago

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An incredibly pernicious anti-transmasc argument that keeps making the rounds is that everything we do was plagiarized from trans women.

Coining a term to describe our unique and gendered experiences of oppression? We're just copying trans women.

Complain that we're often rejected from queer circles for our perceived violent maleness? We're just parroting what's happened to trans women.

Forcemasc fetish blogs? We're just copying One Specific Trans Woman-Run Blog that got popular.

These claims are annoying on their own, but together they paint a clear picture of what transandrophobes want you to believe: that trans men and transmascs are incapable of creating anything ourselves, or if we did, it would have nothing in common with what trans women and fems are doing. The function of these claims is to convince you that trans people of seemingly opposite identities are equally opposite in experiences, and any evidence to the contrary is actually cultural appropriation fueled by jealousy.

This is gender essentialism. It's fueled by the radical feminist belief that "woman" and "man" are not so much terms that get abused to justify people's oppression as they are positions in a class conflict, one where All Men seek and/or directly benefit from the oppression of All Women, and that indeed, manhood and womanhood themselves are defined by this relationship to one another. To be a man is to be an entitled parasite; to be a woman is to be an overworked victim.

That notion is racist and transphobic on the face of it, and that is equally obvious in these arguments about trans men - all of which are predicated on the idea that the average trans man is white, well-off, and able to go stealth whenever necessary, and therefore benefits from the maximum amount of male privilege a trans man can be afforded. Following from that logic, any trans man or that you encounter online can be reasonably assumed to share that experience, and any mention he might make of trans men who fail to meet those qualifications is nothing more than a rhetorical cudgel that we use to deny our own privilege.

I'm sure you can see the problem there.

It's not surprising that I typically see these claims made by white women, frequently about Black and Indigenous men. Speaking from the perspective of a white person, it can be very easy to fall into a trap of thinking that our specific experiences with oppression makes us general experts, and grow defensive when someone provides knowledge that shows we were wrong. It can like we're being victimized on the basis of the oppression we do have, and it can be incredibly hard to stop, listen, and admit that we fucked up. This is doubly difficult when the person criticizing us is a member of a demographic that seemingly contributes to the oppression we face.

But just because we think it's happening doesn't always make it so. Yes, there are times when people are acting in bad faith, or overlooking their own areas of ignorance - to err, as they say, is human. But often, we're the ones in the wrong, and need to recognize that fact before acting. So where do we draw the line?

The thing that I've always found crucial is to stop, breathe, and think. We have to honestly ask ourselves whether the other party is saying "your experiences are not real", or just "your understanding of these issues isn't as all-encompassing as you assumed". Simply asking yourself "am I really being harmed, or do I just feel like I'm being harmed?" can often save you from a massive foot-in-mouth situation.

It's necessary to remember that people whose identities are different from our own have their own experience and knowledge. Unless they are coming out and telling us what problems we do or don't have, we need to trust that they're coming from a place of good faith and genuine knowledge, and be willing to listen and change our minds if necessary.

We have to make ourselves comfortable with the fact that we are not always the most, or only, important voice in the room.

That's something that a lot of anti-transmasc women love to remind us, and I wouldn't say they're always wrong. Simply being a man can and often does incentivize people to engage in misogyny, to talk over women and disregard their experiences, when we find them uncomfortable or irrelevant. Again - everybody fucks up sometimes. But it crosses a line when you start demanding that courtesy from others while refusing to extend it back to them; when you treat any information they offer as automatically inferior or entirely invalid, based solely on their perceived relationship to privilege.

In fact, doing so is literally an ad hominem argument.

Aside from that, I must point out that these arguments are being employed specifically to silence trans men's and mascs' voices. This is not an honest misunderstanding; it's an act of profound self-centeredness at best and outright malice at worst. How do I know this? Well, stop me if you've ever heard one of these before:

"Women don't have real interests; they just like silly frivolous things. Men's hobbies are real and meaningful."

"Women are inherently wired to be emotional. Men are logical and level-headed. I'm not sexist, it's just science."

"If you hear a woman say anything smart, you can bet she learned it from a man."

These, too, are silencing tactics, historically (and currently!) used to devalue and silence the voices of women. In fact, they're things that I have personally heard and been affected by, as a trans man who has spent the vast majority of my life being seen and treated as a woman.

I didn't fall for it then, and I sure ain't falling for it now.

#anti-transmasculinity #transandrophobia #bad faith #intersectionality #transgender #long post

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irlnorthshaw · 2 days ago

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Here's a question:

What are your Supa Strikas ships that you thought of and like, and think people wouldn't get?? (I'm curious lol-)

MIMPI... mimpi... be careful for what you're asking because you know how i am with shipping. guys i ship for life. like i dont give a damn if the ship's interaction is worth one cent... i make do with what i can and have!!! and after rewatching the show a couple billion times... i have gathered some INTERESTING ones.

liquido and riano

as you may know, i have watched "your latest trick" A LOT. yes they did interact in this one scene and never again but hear me out– they give me: liquido can't get over himself and thinks he can bag one of the finest man in the super league. but we all know riano, riano isn't having any of that. their convo would go something like this:

"hey, riano~" "goodbye, liquido."

el matador and blok

YES. yall heard me. this is also me showing some love to blok because some people seem to forget about him!!! what can i say, i love the idea of this dynamic. the thing is, sometimes i ship things in a way i wanna see more of them interacting and not necessarily picture them BEING together. if that makes sense.

these two are exactly that. i wanna see more of them interact bc lowkey i thought it was so wholesome when blok wanted to collaborate and promote fzzzl bmmm w the release of el matador's action figure.

DOOMATIC!!!!! OH YEAH BABY

if only automatic had more moments EUGH... this would've been so good. i personally pat myself on the back when i thought of this one bc i cooked HARD!!! they definitely cannot stand each other and to me, that's the best part of it all.

enemies to lovers who? more like enemies and i cannot believe we're also lovers.

skarra and north

the best way i can describe this one is. i am simply projecting myself on north and i love skarra. so... yeah #SHAMELESS

inyo and miss altivo

AKA PSYCHOLOGICAL WARFARE YURI!!! this one you guys HAVE to love. PLEASE!!! the potential is so insane here... inyo's big brains and chameleon-like tactics? combined with altivo's unwavering power over these dumb men for clicks and views??? COUNT ME TF IN!!!

we need more yuri in this fandom and THIS is where we should start.

brenda and lena

SPEAKING OF YURI... here's another one. except this time i am so surprised nobody has jumped on this yet??? futbol 360 yuri, i NEEEED IT!!! i need it now. they'd honestly be so cute and wholesome, moreover they definitely trade information abt the players for work

coach and the sheikh

now this one is a tad bit controversial BUT who am i without some controversial opinions!!! this is another case of i cannot see them BEING together, but i would kill to see them interact more. they are wayyy more entertaining than coach and vince. (THAT MIGHT ALSO BE CONTROVERSIAL) ohh... the way sheikh is so sassy w coach. maybe i just want more of the sultans... yeah thats it.

"losing your cool, coach? or just losing?" AND THEN PROCEED TO WALK AWAY LIKE THE BADDIE HE IS??? crazy stuff. i want more. NOW!!

belmont and von pushup

OKAY SO... storytime is i had an edit of these two a long time ago but i cant find it???? so consider it xander lost media at the moment. you guys need to hear me out on this because they would be SOOO PEAK!!! jock and goth but to another level i fear. as big and tough the iron tank guys are, i doubt they can stand grimm fc's haunted gimmicks.

plus von pushup works together w belmont to scare his own team bc he thinks its hilarious and perfect psychological training for them

AAAAAND THAT'S ALL... for now hehehe

sorry for the really long response but I HAD TO GET IT OUT OF MY SYSTEM!!!! i love crackships so much and especially in supa strikas bc we get a whole lot of freedom as a smaller fandom to do whatever. this was a very fun post to make, thank you so much mimpi for that lovely question!!! i always look forward to your input

#WARNING: LONG POST AHEAD OF YOU!!!#who is irlnorthshaw without ships that dont make sense but kinda do #hashtag doomatic number one!!#i hope you can appreciate just how random some of these are #im rereading all of this and wondering to myself wow... my brain is a strange place #also WE NEED MORE YURI!!!#supa strikas #supablr #xan: answers

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ilysungho · 14 hours ago

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heyy! just had a thought and this could apply to any member cuz I can't think of just one...

you and him are roommates! after a few months, both of you eventually get so close with each other to the point it's comfortable to talk about... odd stuff. you'd end up asking him what he does to masturbate, and he'd answer you with a shrug. after a few seconds of silence from his end, he'd overshare and says he uses a homemade fleshlight, using items he's found laying around. you get stunned and laugh in disbelief, but you can't really judge him for that (you think whatever he does is hot 😊).

you've found him very attractive from the start and always had the intention of hooking up with him, yet never got the chance to. you'd then offer to buy him an expensive fleshlight just because you felt like it. he'd get a little surprise but he'd say it would feel unfair since he thinks you'd get nothing out of it. little does he know you want him to show you how he uses that expensive fleshlight in front of you, in his room specifically.

help, it kinda feels like i've been sending too much asks recently idk (⁠⇀⁠‸⁠↼⁠‶) i hope it's not overwhelming for you 🙏

- 🎐

nonnie i love you and i love this ask… i can definitely see this with jaehyun or riwoo the strongest! idek how to continue this thought. i feel like the only proper way to do so would be by writing a full fic, but i have a lot of fics being written rn so i'm just gonna leave some more thoughts... i got some help for jaehyun from my friend so thank you to them <3

jaehyun

he would definitely be the type to masturbate using what he has lying around. he's thought a LOT about going out to go and buy a proper fleshlight, but he's so embarrassed about it all. what will the people at the store think about him buying one? what if he orders online and you open his package to see that? he's just scared to be perceived like that, a total 180 to his usual cute and innocent looking face under his black thick rimmed glasses. but despite that, he sounds so pretty when he does anything, and you've heard him because of how loud he is! he tries to keep it down but the walls are thinner than he thinks they are, and he can't hear when you're back from wherever you'd have gone to. well, when you bring up buying him one, he would be very hesitant to let you do so. he'd be so very thankful for not having to hunt for his toy of choice at the moment, but it'd be a huge favor too.

after you get it for him though, knocks on his door before he can try it out makes him feel impatient. he just wants to be able to use his new toy, but you had to come in right at that moment! he'd sound frustrated while trying to talk to you, and you notice his urgency. one hand would push him back to sit on the edge of the bed as the other grabs your purchase to hand to him. jaehyun's head would feel dizzy as you tell him what to do, yet he let you instruct him as you wish. as he listens to you, he feels like he could cum barely a minute in. maybe it's the fact that he's using a new toy, or maybe it's your sweet voice dictating his actions. all he knows is that he needs more of it.

riwoo

riwoo would be amused to say the least. hearing you say that you'd buy something for him despite only recently starting to talk about more sexual topics would have him wondering whether you are being nice or just wanting to find your way into his pants (which you were). he'd be by your side as you pull up a website to buy it for him like you offered, and he would have him fun with it. as you scroll through, he'd talk about the specifics of what he's looking for, because if he's getting a toy after not having one, it should something he likes to say the least. you'd point to one as he says no and why he said no. he'd describe his denial with extreme detail as he watches you shift at your seat. he knows what he's doing and would take full advantage of the situation.

when it arrives, he would take the longest to open it, practically waiting for you to yell at him to open it so he could tease you for being impatient. you'd be sitting on his bed to see him open up the toy and show you it, and you just sit there watching him as he examines it. his hands would be all over it, and he stares right into your eyes while inserting his fingers into the hole. your blushing face would show through your hands barely covering your face, and he would knee your arousal while sitting on between your legs. "you wanted to watch how i use it right? stop covering your face then, darling."

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shatcey · 1 day ago

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Alfons's Route (Roger's Antics)

I don't really understand Roger. For some reason, his smug behavior and way of thinking makes me remember of someone. And these are really personal and not very pleasant memories. Perhaps because of this association, I can't completely detach myself when I try to analyze him.

But his behavior on Ally's route was quite odd, and I really wanna find out what the hell he was thinking.

So… let's try.

In the beginning, there was a pretty ordinary interaction, nothing unusual. The first notable scene appears when Kate begins to show interest in Ally. He was gone, and she was torn between polar opposite emotions.

I… can't say he lied, but he could have said it more gently. It's too blunt and harsh way to talk about a friend. He always claimed to be Ally's friend. I'm not an expert on male friendship, but it still doesn't seem right to me.

Then they followed him into the bar, Roger noticed that Kate was worried about Ally. So… he realized that things could be more serious than he initially thought, and… he's conducting some kind of experiment.

The next morning, he said nasty things about Ally again. He didn't say it directly, but it's very hard not to catch the meaning.

I understand… sometimes we all want to impress someone and look better compared to someone else. But… yet again… Roger claims to be a friend of Ally's. Why is he so obviously saying nasty things behind his back? It's just low… Even if he's interested in Kate…

Why is he interested though? Just because she's Ally's girl? Or is it because she's stubborn and that's what he likes about people?

But! He told Kate where she could learn more about the other Ally's life. He escorted her there. Why he did it? It doesn't make any sense. One moment he's clearly trying to hit on a girl, and the next he's helping her get closer to Ally. So he's not interested in her after all.

And right after that… He plays the role of a good friend… asks about Ally's feelings and warns him not too carried away.

And after Alfons played a very harsh joke with Kate, Roger got mad at Alfons because of Kate.

But after listening to his motives… Roger tries to convince him (half-heartedly) to try to change his fate. And a little annoyed because Ally brushed him off.

And starting from that moment… It can only be described as a "I'm going to steal this woman no matter what" type of behavior.

He was hitting on her in the morning.

He provoked Ally in the hall.

Offer his services in the basement. Roger had a pretty busy day.

And finally… a kiss in a romantic blind love ending.

I see the biggest hint to understand Roger in this remark of his.

He looked down on Ally. All the time. He doesn't agree with his lifestyle, with his decisions. He doesn't even try to understand him, he just thinks it's wrong. And he thinks of himself as a much better person. So… he's sure any woman would be happy to choose him. And he got… a big surprise in the form of this stubborn girl. Who doesn't need anyone but Ally.

Is this just a challenge for him? He's very stubborn and quite cold-blooded, so… I only see a pragmatic challenge. And nothing more. Even if logically he understands that she's really good, she's just his type… He doesn't feel anything for her. Obviously, because she didn't teach him that. Sorry. It was very rude of me to say.

So… maybe it's just an experiment for him. To get more information about Ally's curse. Or just a stubborn desire to get a girl… I'm not certain. But I'm sure of one thing. He doesn't love her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🔝 𝕊𝕋𝔸ℝ𝕋 ℙ𝔸𝔾𝔼 🔝

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#ikemen villains #ikemen villians #ikevil #roger barel #ikemen villains roger #ikemen roger #ikevil alfons sylvatica #ikemen villians alfons #ikemen alfons #alfons sylvatica #ikevil alfons #alfons route

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boykingscourt · 2 days ago

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What are your thoughts on Wincest? Do you have any hcs?

oooh I'm excited for this! good opportunity for me to clarify some things if anyone is new around here or just curious

if you're here for the short version, I'm definitely a wincest respecter but not necessarily a wincest shipper

if you're here for the long and more nuanced version, please read on!

I have a lot friends both here and irl who are wincesties, but the most important thing for me is that they love and defend sam. I've read wincest fics and the presence of wincest is not a deal-breaker in fics, but I prefer reading gen sam and dean on the whole. it's fun to analyze something in the show with the wincest lens on, but I can just as easily take it off. ultimately wincest is not the only version of sam and dean that I find compelling, but I don't really care if people view some of my posts as wincest (wincesties, please do interact) because I only say what I think and feel regarding the brothers. idk does that technically make me a wincest shipper? maybe some people will think it does, but ultimately I feel like the nonshipper label fits better

now I'm gonna get on my soapbox about proshipping for a moment. back in the day, what we think of as "proshipping" was just called common courtesy. I'm not saying fandom was perfect when I was younger (and I was probably too young to be in fandom then if I'm being honest) but in my experience people were more respectful about ships they didn't like, understood the difference between fiction and reality, and for the most part didn't make assumptions about people irl for things they enjoyed in fiction

of course I'm not saying you have to ship incest or want to interact with people who do, but it's crucial to curate your own space. coming on here or twitter and harassing people for shipping wincest and/or crying in the main tags about how disgusting it is just makes me lose respect for you. block what you don't want to see and move on

I will also say that being so against others shipping incest and finding yourself in the supernatural fandom is kind of a problem you created. it's kind of, well, extremely silly. wincest is the oldest ship in this fandom, like literally as old as the pilot itself, and was instrumental in first getting the show off the ground (i.e. not cancelled). also given the very not normal relationship between sam and dean, the other gothic horror elements present in the show, and the way the writers and actors regard the ship, it really should be no surprise that it is so popular

okay so now that I've gotten all of that out of the way, I'm going to address the other part of this ask, which is wincest headcanons! I don't know if these are necessarily headcanons, but it is the way I prefer my wincest when I think about it or imagine how it fits in with canon:

I definitely don't imagine them as like boyfriends, just more of what they are in the show, brothers with a complicated, intense, and abusive relationship (it being complicated does not mean you cannot call abuse what it is). I think their relationship having a sexual component would not help anything and would probably just further highlight the power imbalance present

related to above, I think dean would use sex the way he uses love and affection in canon, expertly alternating between being generous with it and withdrawing it when he's angry as means to manipulate sam and have him constantly chasing after the affection. and trust. trust especially. sometimes dean isn't even aware he's doing it (or would at least tell himself that's not what he's doing to his darling little sammy), but it's extremely effective either way. seasons 4, 5, and 8 especially would be delicious in this regard

in s7 there was a point where sex was one of the only things that kept hallucifer at bay, so sam was always torn between shaking dean awake multiple times a night in their motel rooms or handling it on his own. ultimately because I think he didn't want to "burden" dean with his visions or have them both lacking sleep all the time, he would lie and pretend that one or two times a night made lucifer go away. it became harder to pretend as we approached 7x17, and after sam "let lucifer in" in 7x15, the sex trick stopped working too. also hallucifer eavesdropping or appearing over dean's shoulder as they're having sex is very appealing to me

dean is the dom. I really can't see that any other way

dean doesn't see what he does with sam as any reflection of his sexuality, aka "it's not gay and it's not incest it's just sammy." sam probably would see it as some kind of reflection of his sexuality but wouldn't see the point in voicing that

dean was experiencing attraction to sam for a while beforehand, but I don't think they began messing around until sam was a teenager. maybe it wasn't like full blown sex then, but it was definitely something. I think a bit of precedent just adds something fun to s1, especially with dean coming to get sam in the pilot and how they interact, all that time apart, and sam's grief and guilt/dean's guilt surrounding jessica

I hope you enjoyed and found something compelling in here! I am certainly no wincest connoisseur, but these are my opinions

#wincest #salmon dean #hcs #ask #anon ask

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xylatox · 3 days ago

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Criminal Conscience Tape 2!! I'm so excited this absolutely has not left my mind since it was posted, CC Beomgyu is taking over my daily life I fear.

Present Time!!

I love that we are immediately introduced to Kai and in Kai fashion his sweet personality shines through, God, he is adorable. I think it's cute that Kai is worried but can't keep secrets when pressured to confess anything he knows, which fits Kai so much here I think but I love that reader still gives him a well thought out response. I just think the moment is so sweet with the formalities and everything, CC Kai i wanna keep you in my pocket :( I love that we are able to come back to thoughts on Beomgyu even in a moment like this, I think I too would ignore the behaviour of Gyu even if just opting to taking you out to clubs and dark hotel rooms is an obvious red flag.

Past Time!!

Gyu making his mark after their time back then is so prominent, like he is so good, that 3 days feels like forever, the man you are Gyu. Reader is so insane to even think of going to a sketchy location at 2am, and worse yet from an unfamiliar number PLUS you cannot even respond, girl you are absolutely insane; like I get it, Gyu is amazing (we love that) but hoping it's him from something screaming danger is actual insanity.

Finally, there’s light. But it is not the warm and comforting glow of the usual streetlights. No, this is a purple, almost pinkish hue. It paints the brick walls around in a soft sheen. — I LOVE how this is phrased especially since the light not giving its usual warmth kind of reflects the situation at hand it how it feels. And the man of the hour🫠 suddenly all my yapping about safety and red flags goes over my head; the Dollface will ALWAYS get me I fear.

Beomgyu huffs at your question, his lips pulling into a small smirk as he nods. “Clever girl.” — I am so downbad for Gyu like what the fuck, this is not okay for my health.

Beomgyu’s hand slithers around your waist, giving your hip a firm squeeze. “Dollface. This is my old friend, Duri.” ... Beomgyu doesn’t give you an opportunity to protest, his demanding grip steering you toward the booth, sliding in next to Duri as he pulls you along. — there's something so attractive of the dominant aura Gyu holds here, from his grip, to him not letting your name be known, I'm on my knees.

Reader overthinking the moment is cute and valid, I feel like from Gyu's current vibes he definitely has an ulterior motive for her being there, just from the fact that she met Duri and the place Gyu asked her to meet is so clearly for a certain category of people and much less people who are so aware of Gyu's presence makes it so much more interesting.

“Why, you seem to know everything about me.” It was supposed to come across as a joke, friendly banter if you will. But Beomgyu’s eyes twinkle with something beyond mischief, something slightly darker, something dangerously close to lust. “You’d be surprised”, is all he says, leaning back against the velvet cushion as he sips on his own drink. What was that supposed to mean? — WHAT THE FUCKKKK that was so hot🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️ I technically should be super concerned by that response because of course, how much does Gyu really know but currently any semblance of sense is gone in this moment.

Beomgyu groans, “Fuck dollface, you ask a lot of questions.” His free hand slides up your arm, moving to the nape of your neck as he brings your lips to his in a hot kiss. Beomgyu was good at avoiding questions, perhaps a little too good — we really shouldve taken the avoidance as a second warning but...Gyu is hot so...how bad can it be....right?

Present Time!!

God, I absolutely love Gyu's questioning, the way he evades the questions with ease and how he's also able to press reader's buttons and strip her professionalism in the way that he does. I LOVE that the red lipstick makes its name once again and returns, like, reader subconsciously holding on to the past in some way...

Beomgyu smirks, his fingers coming to a halt on the metal of the table in front of him. “You still look fucking irresistible in it”, he says, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. — he's such a tease I don't think I can live through this actually. I love that we get the background on how the red lipstick came to be, Gyu is so ARGH yknow.

Past Time!!

I think that Beomgyu using different burner phones each time to contact is insane and clearly another bad sign. It was the first time he’d left before you fell asleep. — this actually breaks my heart. The more I see of Gyu, the more I don't blame reader to try to see past the walls he has up even if the red flags are there because he's just addictive yknow.

TAEHYUN MY LOVE😭😭 I did NOT except to see him in a past memory but I'm not complaining (also slightly scared for his fate in the series now) but my baby :((((((( He so clearly likes reader too oh my god I'm actually going to sob, I did not except to have to face this position rn.

The actual fear I had in my body when Duri makes a reappearance what the freak!! and the fact that he remembers AND has the audacity to use Gyu's nickname for us? (gross and stinky I do not like him)

I do love the moment between reader and Taehyun:( he's such a boba eyed sweetheart I will always love him ugh.

Present Time!!

Loving all the criminal talk and reasonings behind everything rn with reader and Yeonjun, it makes my nerdy crime obsessed self so happy and the fact that Beomgyu presumably waited before making the kill further solidifies how insane this situation is, I'm so invested (I'm lowkey hoping he actually didn't murder the guy😭 but it def isn't looking good considering everything yknow)

Past Time!!

Beomgyu seemingly knowing everything about reader is so interesting! Like how many connections do you have to meet her at her university.

You watch as he makes his way across the parking lot with his hands in his pocket. Once he makes it halfway across does he turn to look at you. The smirk stretching across his face made your heart leap. “You comin’ or not, dollface?” — oh my god. the ending. Does she go or not I need to know😭.

Serene!! this was so good, I'm sorry the review came out longer than I intended but I loved every minute of Tape 2, it was so amazing and I'm left with so many questions pertaining to the reader and to the crime they are trying to unfold. Looking forward to the other tapes!!♡

𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 TAPE 02

𝓓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝓔𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 ⸝⸝ Moving rapidly through your career as one of the leading female investigators, you never once encountered a case you couldn't crack. Though you never expected for your past mistakes to come back and haunt you in the form of an ex lover, accused of murder. ⸝⸝

𝓹airings criminal!beomgyu x detective!reader 𝔀arnings drinking, kissing, red flag beomgyu but what's new, references to them hooking up, descriptions of blood/gore/murder, surprisingly little warnings for such a long tape, but it's just... vibes through and through I can't explain it okay?

📼 THE TAPE RECORDINGS

𝓣𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝓢𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 contains dark themes portraying unhealthy and toxic relationships and substance abuse. reader discretion is advised ! — this story is partly told in flashbacks, beware of timestamps as past/present are mixed throughout the story.

#serene adds ✎.. heh, this one's a mouthful, but that's only because it's the original 02 and 03 merged heh, plus my own fleshed out version of course. hmm, I really like this part though, a personal favourite :3 absolutely would cry if I got to hear ur thoughts on it !!

[ ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။| TAPE 02 ] — Red Lipstick Stains recording length: 9.8k

📼 — PRESENT TIME ; February 19th 2024

“Is everything alright?”

Kai’s light voice slices through the dark clouds looming over your head and your gaze snaps up to meet his. “You’ve barely touched your food”, he says as he motions toward your still full plate. You follow his line of sight, heaving a small sigh as you prop your head on one of your hands.

“Not feeling particularly hungry today I suppose”, You mumble as you push said food around leisurely with your fork. It was kind of Kai to offer you lunch like this, your junior often did his best in trying to please his colleagues, sometimes you wondered if Kai ever gave himself credit for his hard work.

Kai puts his own fork down as he swallows. His big brown eyes search yours, much to no avail as you keep them trained to your plate with a displeased frown. He clears his throat, “Does it have anything to do with your new case this morning?” He asks the question hesitantly, like he was afraid of stepping on a nerve he wasn’t supposed to.

Finally, you lift your gaze to look at him. Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, you ponder your next words carefully. It wasn’t like you didn’t trust Kai, but Yeonjun had made it clear that what you were doing was technically against policy. Besides, Kai had never been one to keep secrets, especially not when pressured into confessings, which he more than often was.

“Partly..” You slowly admit, “But for the most part I’m just tired, it’s been a long week as is.” You give a weak shrug as you reach for your glass, sipping on your water unenthusiastically. Kai, on the other hand, doesn't seem convinced as he studies you with a small frown. Still, he seems to respect your boundaries and doesn’t try to pry further.

You give him a faint smile, “Sorry, I’m not exactly good company right now.” But your junior quickly shakes his head, immediately objecting. — “You’re always great company, noona.” Both the compliment and the formality makes your smile widen, Kai really was adorable.

“You’re great company too, Huening.”

He blushes furiously at that as he quickly occupies himself with his own food. You liked spending time with Kai, he was easygoing, despite his somewhat awkward compliments. The atmosphere always felt light when he was around. The restaurant he’d taken you to was small and quaint, situated just across the park. And though the flowers had yet to bloom and the treetops remained naked, you found it a beautiful sight.

Beomgyu had rarely taken you out to restaurants. In fact, he’d rarely taken you out at all, anywhere besides those clubs and dark hotel rooms at least. Back then you failed to see the issue with that, but then again, there were a lot of things you had disregarded in better judgement of Choi Beomgyu.

⸝⸝

📼 — March 31st 2022

Three days was actually an awfully long time when you waited for something. And it felt even longer when you didn’t know if what you waited for would ever come. In fact, these past three days had felt like three years. — 72 excruciatingly long hours without Beomgyu, and for every single one of those hours, you had not stopped thinking about him.

On your way to class, in class, at work, at home, with Kayla. Oh. That’s right. You had yet to tell your friend about your quickie out in the alleway. It was better that way, or at least so you thought. She would only scold you for going against her words... But what if they had been said out of jealousy? You shouldn’t take them too seriously, right?

Sex wouldn’t kill you. — But it would definitely get you addicted.

This newfound abstinence somehow grew with each passing day. You thought you would’ve moved on by now, forgotten him, just like he’d forgotten you. It was obvious that what had transpired between the two of you three days ago had merely been an exchange of pleasure. Beomgyu hadn’t as much as looked back when you parted ways, neither had he given you his number, or taken yours.

It was a one time thing, no strings attached, literally. Perhaps his nonchalance after sharing such an intimate moment should’ve been your first warning.

Briefly you wondered if things would’ve turned out differently, had you taken a cab home that night and forgot about the alluring stranger. But there was no changing the past, and now you were to live with this decision, for as long as you could remember.

It was late, well past midnight on a Tuesday night when your otherwise dry phone chimed with a notification. The bright screen illuminates your dark bedroom, and your attention diverts from the coursebook in your lap and over to the small device. With a perplexed frown, you reach for it. As you squint against the near blinding brightness, you find an unfamiliar number on screen.

The sender had left one message. An address and a time.

2am.. And in an area you did not recognize. A small and uneasy feeling settling within the pits of your stomach as you re-read the text over and over. Despite every reasonable sense in your body practically screaming for you to block whoever this was and forget about it, you can’t seem to find it in you.

Instead your shaky fingers begin to type out a reply.

“Who is this?”

Message not delivered. Huh? Why wouldn’t it let you… Something was wrong, very wrong. But despite your inner turmoil, the winning side ends up being the one that forces you out of bed as you stumble toward your dresser. — The sender had left no signature, yet you were almost certain of its source. A small sense of hope surges through you, and it is what compels you to go through with this utterly idiotic decision.

Your arms wrap around your skimpily dressed body. Spring has yet to take hold on the biting frost that still lingered. With urgent steps, you scurry through the narrow alleyway. The light of your phone screen illuminated your way amongst the unfamiliar buildings and the further you got from the main street, the heavier your heart grew. Had this been a mistake? What if someone was luring you out here to kill you?

Finally, there’s light. But it is not the warm and comforting glow of the usual streetlights. No, this is a purple, almost pinkish hue. It paints the brick walls around in a soft sheen. Your pulse quickens as you near the entrance of what you assumed to be another nightclub. It was strange.. You hadn’t heard of this one, nor was it anywhere to be found online.

There’s a man by the doorway. You find your gaze lingering by his broad shoulders, his thick arms looking ready to rip through the tight shirt he wore. Your breath hitches in your throat when you catch a glimpse of the multiple tattoos of different symbolism covering his veiny forearms. Did he not get cold?

The bouncer looks down at you, for he was tall as a skyscraper, and raises a brow. “You lost?” He asks, his voice is gruff, carrying a mocking tone as he watches you expectantly. — Nervously you shift on the spot, your mouth opening and closing repeatedly as you fumble for words. “I uh…”

He chuckles, the sound echoing through the alleyway as he throws his head back. “It’s alright - What you’re looking for is probably down the street and to your right.” He nods in said direction, a smug grin stretching across his lip when his gaze falls on you once more. — “It’s more, your style”, he slowly adds.

You can’t help the offended frown that flashed across your face. Your style? Sure you wouldn’t argue over the fact that this was unlike anything you’d usually do. But this was just insulting. How dare he speak to you like that, how dare he… — Oh but who were you kidding? You looked nothing like those who would spend half their awake time here.

What were you even thinking, coming here, all alone no less? There was no way you would be let inside. — Such a waste of time.

With a heavy sigh, you readjust your grip on the small handbag you’d brought, turning on your heel as you prepare to leave, when suddenly, a voice calls for you. It’s familiar, much so that it makes your stomach flip as you freeze up. Beomgyu. — Slowly glancing over your shoulder, your eyes lock with his dark ones.

Beomgyu pushes past the bouncer who immediately gives a quick bow and steps aside. “Dollface”, he exhales, the nickname still sticking as he wraps an arm around your waist, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand. “You made it.”

You can barely protest as he pulls you to his side, your bodies clashing against one another as he heads for the entrance he’d just emerged from. Upon passing the bouncer you think you might hear him whisper something to the man under his breath, though you remain unsure of what exactly transpired between the two.

Given your not-so-broad expertise of clubs, you would say that at first glance, this place was no different. But as Beomgyu leads you through the crowded dance floor you slowly begin to realize that this was something entirely new. — This whole place felt almost exquisite, and the people here seemed aware of it.

There was no bar, instead drinks were being served by the many waiters pacing the outlines of the main floor, all of them wearing the same black uniform. Large, velvet clad booths line the walls, and you expect Beomgyu to take you to one of them. — His gaze, however, seems fixed on the large staircase on the other side of the room.

Quickly you notice the lingering glances you receive. Well, the lingering glances he receives. All eyes seemed to be on him as Beomgyu swerves his way through the crowd. Did he know these people? Did they know him? They have to, given the way they all stepped aside when he passed.

You, on the other hand, were barely spared as much as a quick look, apart from a nasty scowl delivered by one of the many hooker-looking women. — What made Beomgyu so special here?

Suddenly, his hand on your lower back feels heavy, like his fingers were going to sink into your skin and leave a permanent indent. If Beomgyu felt their stares, it didn’t seem to affect him in the slightest. Biting down a shudder, you keep your gaze trained ahead as you follow along, reaching the grand staircase with a sigh of relief.

When you make it to the top, a pair of double doors are immediately swung open and you step inside. Your eyes scan the more desolate area, drinking in the expensive looking furniture, the extravagant booths and the quiet murmur of those chatting with one another. Suddenly you understood… “Isn’t this the VIP section?”

Beomgyu huffs at your question, his lips pulling into a small smirk as he nods. “Clever girl.”

As he steers you toward one of the larger booths, you realize that you wouldn’t be all alone. A man who looked to be in his late twenties sits by the round table, his leg propped on one knee as he swishes a drink in his hand. You did not recognize him, but had you seen him out on the streets one lonesome night, your first instinct would have been to run.

“Duri!” Beomgyu’s exclamation carries out into the otherwise quiet but hot air and the man lifts his head as he peers in your direction. He sets his drink down, shifting in his seat when the two of you approach. — “And here I was beginning to think you had stood me up”, Duri says, a wide grin on his face. His gaze drifts to Beomgyu’s hand, still secure on your lower back.

“Ah”, he exhales, “Now I see what kept you from me.” He sends you a not-so-subtle wink, but it didn’t feel the same way it had when Beomgyu did it.

You clear your throat, it would be rude not to introduce yourself, right? — “Hi, uh…I..” Upon giving him a small, rather awkward wave, Duri suddenly bursts into laughter. He continues for a good thirty seconds, despite neither you or Beomgyu joining in, the latter seemingly unamused.

“Pretty little thing you’ve got there”, Duri comments as he brings his glass to his lips, “What’s your name, love?”

“Oh! It’s-”

Beomgyu’s hand slithers around your waist, giving your hip a firm squeeze. “Dollface. This is my old friend, Duri.” He gestures to the man in front of you, giving him an unenthusiastic look that contradicted his previous excitement. “Duri, this is dollface.” Beomgyu doesn’t give you an opportunity to protest, his demanding grip steering you toward the booth, sliding in next to Duri as he pulls you along.

He doesn’t seem to notice the frown on your face upon settling against the cushion. “Nice to meet you”, Duri says, eyeing you carefully over the rim of his glass. — “Uh, you too..” You shyly mumble, squeaking when Beomgyu’s hand finds place on your thigh, his cold rings stinging your bare skin.

His free hand quickly calls a waiter over who seems to be stumbling on his feet to get to your booth faster. Beomgyu’s eyes are suddenly on you, “What d’you want, dollface?” — Taken aback, you glance between him and the waiter, biting the inside of your cheek. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

Beomgyu nods, turning back to the waiter with an indifferent expression. “My usual, make it two.” — As the man scurries off, you force yourself to relax as Beomgyu and Duri indulge in a conversation regarding topics you had little knowledge of. They used words and slang you couldn’t recognize, speaking in hushed voices, as if being eavesdropped on.

Left with your own thoughts, your mind wanders back to just a few moments prior. Why hadn’t he introduced you? Was he ashamed, but why bring you along in the first place then. Your eyes drift to Beomgyu’s hand on your thigh, his fingers moving absentmindedly over your naked skin, making light tapping motions.

Why had he invited you here tonight? You thought it had been for easy sex, but as you sit here, your back pressed against the expensive velvet, everything felt a little too formal. Did he have an ulterior motive for bringing you out here, and if so, what?

You could feel the heavy stares sent your way, people were always looking, as if Beomgyu was some sort of artifact. They were never really looking at you, but you somehow felt as if placed under a microscope. — It was almost thrilling in a way, sitting so close to the thing everyone in the room silently seemed to desire, for reasons you couldn’t quite understand.

“Open up.”

Beomgyu’s thick voice pulls you from your trail of thoughts. Startled, you blink as the cool surface of glass presses against your lips. Obliging, you let him pour the liquor into your waiting mouth. It burns your throat, yet leaves an almost sweet aftertaste. “This is good..” You murmur, taking the glass from his hand.

The smirk on his lips only grows, “Knew you’d like it, dollface.”

His statement makes your chest flutter and you feel your own lips pull into a small grin. “Why, you seem to know everything about me.” It was supposed to come across as a joke, friendly banter if you will. But Beomgyu’s eyes twinkle with something beyond mischief, something slightly darker, something dangerously close to lust.

“You’d be surprised”, is all he says, leaning back against the velvet cushion as he sips on his own drink. What was that supposed to mean?

You had almost forgotten Duri, and you jumped in your seat when he suddenly clears his throat. “Well, it seems my date for tonight has arrived.” He rises to his feet, chugging the last of his drink before setting his glass down. “Pleasure meeting you ‘dollface’..” He gives you one final glance, scoffing before walking off to join one of the girls a few booths away.

Beomgyu doesn’t pay him any further attention, his gaze fixed on something far ahead as he mindlessly drinks. — “Who was he?” You can’t help but ask, feeling your curiosity gnawing away at you.

“An old friend”, he simply shrugs, clearly ready to discard the matter. But you were far from satisfied with his nonchalant response. — “Then why didn’t you introduce me, if he’s an old friend I mean?”

The small frown creasing his forehead was the first of actual expressions you’d seen on him. “I did.” He replies shortly, setting his glass down on the small table in front of you. Shaking your head, you twist in your seat to look at him fully. “Why not my name?”

You knew your persistence was getting to him when he sighed. “What’s it to him?” He was sounding almost defensive now, his agitated response only riling you up further as you sought answers. “So? He’s your friend.”

“Perhaps…” Beomgyu exhales, his attention now turned to Duri who was feeling up the girl he’d joined not even three minutes ago. “But not one you should be acquainted with.” — “Why?”

Beomgyu groans, running a hand across his face tiredly. “You’re being really difficult here, sweetheart..” — “Did he do something bad?” This time you couldn’t refrain from asking, from crossing a line you knew you couldn’t return from.

“Haven’t we all?” He counters upon emptying the last of his drink and his words sound almost solemn. You frown, “Yes but-”

“Drop it dollface.” His voice is cold, causing a shiver to run down your spine, leaving no room for arguments as he slams his glass down on the table. You gulp as your gaze drops to the drink in your hand, its once sweet taste now sour on your tongue. Was he angry with you? You couldn’t tell, for Beomgyu’s expression remained stoic as his hand returned to your thigh.

His answer made you certain of one thing though. Duri was someone who did things he shouldn’t. You recall Kayla’s last words about Shay, about the substance abuse, about Beomgyu. Would that mean that he also… No. Maybe he just bought from him every now and then? A small amount couldn’t be that bad right? As long as he had it under control.

Back then you didn’t know it. But Beomgyu loved his control, more than a lot of things, more than a lot of people. — You glance up at him once more, a thousand questions prodding at your lips, you choose one.

“How did you get my number?”

That should’ve been your second warning.

⸝⸝

📼 — PRESENT TIME ; February 19th 2024

Beomgyu had barely changed during the ten months you’d gone without seeing him. His hair was still the same pitch black, though a bit more unkempt and thinner by the ends. He had acquired dark circles under his eyes, they made his face appear more hollow. It was almost like life itself had been drained out of him. — Yet his charisma persisted, and Beomgyu took every opportunity he could grasp in order to push and prod at your buttons.

You rarely found yourself in doubt of your own abilities. In fact, you had been outstanding amongst your peers during your months in training. And to interrogate, to break even the most coldhearted criminal with your mere words, there was an undeniable satisfaction in that. But as soon as you had stepped foot inside the room you had been trained in for so long, all confidence was lost on you.

How could you ever see through him, through Beomgyu. For over a year you had been trying to read him. To crack him open and peer into his mind. Sure, you had been taught different techniques and methods now, you’d practiced and then practiced again. This wasn’t the same, far from it. For Beomgyu was nothing like anyone you’d ever met before.

Just looking at him right now made your head spin.

“What’s your relationship to the victim?” You school your voice into professionalism, into a cool and detached one. No matter how hard of a front you put up, it felt as if he could see right through it. — Beomgyu doesn’t meet your gaze, making it impossible for you to look for clues within his eyes. He twists the rings on his fingers, one by one, almost methodically.

A smirk you knew all too well tugs across his lips. “What’s your relationship to that man?”

Your mind goes blank, your brows raising on your forehead as you glance around. The room was empty, just like it had been for the past thirty minutes. — “Please don’t divert from the subject when we’re-”

“The one in the doorway earlier.” He’s not giving up, and you push back a shudder when his dark eyes flicker up to yours. It was clear that he was looking for an easy entry into your head. He was searching for any kind of insecurity you might hold, he would puncture it and slither inside, just like he always did.

You recall the afternoon’s events, thinking back to your lunch with Kai. Carelessly you had let him drop you off by the interrogation rooms. Had Beomgyu seen him? That would be your only explanation. “That was my colleague”, you say, keeping your expression stoic, even when Beomgyu’s smirk widens.

“Really?” He drawls, and whether he kept going because the matter intrigued him, or if it was to waste time on irrelevant topics, you didn’t know. His dark eyes flicker between yours and the door which you had emerged from half an hour ago. “Didn’t look like it to me.”

There he goes again, spewing his nonsense as he waits for you to eat from his palm. Just like you used to. He didn’t have that power over you anymore, you told yourself that. — “What you think does not matter.” Your hands reach for files in front of you as you readjust them, buying yourself some much needed time as your attention diverts to the pictures attached.

“What? He your boyfriend or something?”

His question comes out half a statement, half a huff. A short breath of disbelief, an almost menacing look on his face. But you’re not stupid enough not to catch the subtle tick of his jaw, the way his dark eyes narrowed, if just a little. He rocks his chair back on its hind legs, patiently waiting for your response as he tries to gauge your reaction. After everything, he still thought he had a say in anything regarding your life, regarding you.

“He might be”, you shrug, already flipping through the files in order to avoid confronting the topic head on. It was a lie of course. He didn’t have to know that. Beomgyu had lied to you too, at one point, it had gotten hard to differentiate any of the reality that had been vowed between his lies.

“Bullshit.”

The sound of his cuffed hands slamming against the old metal table is deafening, the front legs of his chair hit the ground once more with an equally empowering thud. He leans forward now, even more than what was both professionally and emotionally appropriate for either of you. — Briefly you thought that Yeonjun might interrupt, and you listen for the door. But he never comes.

You don’t flinch, not even when his hot breath tickles your face. His brows furrow, the corner of his lips twitching. “He’s not your type”, Beomgyu plainly states, the words falling from his lips are so close that you could practically taste them on your own. — “Who says?” You quickly retort, immediately scolding yourself for letting your professionalism falter.

Your small slip up doesn’t pass him unnoticed and Beomgyu smirks. “C’mon dollface, you forget I know everything about you.” — “Knew.” You’re quick to interrupt him, your voice sharp and almost snappy. “You knew everything about me.”

“People change Beomgyu, I changed.” Your professionalism was slipping at a dangerous rate. You didn’t care. The satisfaction of hearing those very words leave your own two lips was far more enticing than the policy you had to follow.

Beomgyu’s expression remains unfazed, his brows slightly raised on his forehead as he watches you with calculating eyes. His tongue swipes across his bottom lip mindlessly. Ring clad fingers tapping against the metal table rhythmically, mimicking the tick of a clock, the sound ringing in your ears. You swallow, forcing your breathing to remain regulated as you place your files down. “Let’s hold here for today.”

The screech of your chair against the stone floor pierces the air as you stand up. Dusting off your pants, you intend to not spare him as much as a second glance when you head for the door. The cool handle sends a small spark of electricity through your palm as you grip it tight. But before you get the chance to turn it and step outside, Beomgyu speaks;

“Is red his favorite color too?”

Your body feels ice cold, your heart catching in your throat and your eyes widening as you gaze ahead. “What?” You echo as you slowly turn to face him. He chuckles, but the laugh holds no warmth. Not until his dark eyes fall on your lips do you realize what he’s talking about. Without being able to stop yourself, your fingers reach up to touch the fresh coat of paint you’d applied after lunch.

The red lipstick that you had accidentally brought along this morning, the one you were supposed to get rid of. It had been but a mere coincidence right… The way it had presented itself so nicely on your dresser earlier that day.

Beomgyu smirks, his fingers coming to a halt on the metal of the table in front of him. “You still look fucking irresistible in it”, he says, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

You look away, not wanting to face him a second longer. It was torturous, everything about him was. It instantly reminded you of why you had walked away all those months ago, of why you had tried so hard to forget him, to bury him within the depths of your mind, somewhere unattainable.

“My boyfriend thinks so too.” It’s all you say before quickly turning on your heel and swinging the door open. Your heart pounds in your chest as you step outside. Slamming the door shut behind you with a loud thud, you lean against it as you try to compose yourself.

Fuck, he still made you dizzy.

That night turned into a sleepless one. Spent going through the remnants of Beomgyu, the pieces of him you still carried. Many times you’d been at war with yourself. One side argued that you should rid yourself of him completely, start anew, in a reality without him. The other side, the one that felt more than it thought, desperately clung onto him, in every way it could. That side made you replay every single memory shared with him, the good and the bad ones, it made you cry deep into the night and it made you scream in frustration and anger. Yet it always seemed to win.

You turn the lipstick in your hands, fingers gliding against the smooth tube. It had come in a small box, wrapped in gold and tied with a red bow. Your hands had trembled as you undid the ribbon, and Beomgyu had been watching you intently. — You could still feel the weight of his hand on your lower back, the other one caressing your thighs swung over his lap.

When you had plucked the lid, revealing the shiny artifact, your eyes had widened. Your lips parted delicately as you glanced between the lipstick and him. “I… Beomgyu this is…” You had barely been able to finish your sentence, too astonished by the gift before you.

“Try it.” He exhales, his breath warm against the side of your face. With a small nod of your head you screwed the bottom of the tube, revealing the deep red lipstick. The cosmetic melted across your lips like butter, and you carefully spread an even layer, painfully aware of his eyes on you.

Gently smacking your lips once, you turn to Beomgyu, shy gaze meeting his hungry one. His thumb brushed along your chin, swiping away any excess product. “Now you look like a real doll”, he’d murmured, knuckles caressing your heated cheeks.

“I’ll wear it”, you had whispered as you leaned into his touch. And Beomgyu had hummed, a soft sound of approval as he’d pressed his lips against your freshly painted ones.

“Good, red is my favorite color.”

⸝⸝

📼 — April 10th 2022

Beomgyu was difficult. Not in the sense where he was vague. Because whenever the two of you saw one another it would always lead to sex, he would make sure of that. Naturally you thought it was a mutual benefit situation going on. It wasn’t something you were opposed to, even if the idea hadn’t enticed you before. He was just… different.

It would always go the same way. He sent you an address and a time, you showed up. It was a simple deal, one that had occurred without either of you confirming it out loud. For each instance he would use a different number, an untraceable one. At first you’d tried to show disinterest in the matter, to act like it didn’t bother you. But the truth was it did, a lot.

Usually it’d be a club, never the same as the last, and he would make sure to get you alone as quickly as he could. Tonight was different, tonight he’d booked a hotel room, just for the two of you. And in the darkness, where only the sounds of your panting breaths lingered once he’d pulled out, you suddenly found your thoughts wandering.

Usually you’d pass out quickly, feeling oddly comforted in his warm embrace. But tonight you’re wide awake. He is too, for his fingers draw lazy patterns on your naked hip. You swallow, blinking twice as you try to push the images from your head, biting back the questions waiting on your tongue. You didn’t want to ruin this moment, it felt fragile, like one misstep could shatter the entire thing.

Yet the aftermath of your orgasm still surged within the depths of your stomach. It gave you confidence you usually lacked. Craning your neck, you turn your face to peer up at him. Still unable to make out his expression in the dark, you hesitate, if only for a second before asking the one question that had been on your mind for nearly two weeks.

“Why won’t you give me your number?”

Your words felt deafening, like church bells ringing through the air a quiet Sunday morning. Beomgyu doesn't answer, his chest rising and falling under your cheek as his fingers stop on your hip. Had you overstepped? No, this was a perfectly reasonable question. So what was the problem?

Beomgyu heaves a sigh, the huff of air blowing over the top of your head. “Don’t got one”, he replies, his voice echoing through the hotel room.

Confused, you lift your head as you squint toward him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs, “Means I don’t got one.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, hesitating. “Then how am I supposed to contact you?” Once the questions started spilling from your lips it seemed impossible to stop. You could tell he was getting annoyed by the second. — “You’re not”, he firmly states. His words manage to kill any lingering lust and warmth, the room suddenly felt cold.

It was then, in that moment, that you realized that your relationship with Beomgyu was nothing more than a casual and mutual exchange of pleasure. You should’ve known that, suppose part of you always had, but his statement made it all the more clear. With a solemn expression you stare up at the ceiling, quietly mulling over his words.

Sometimes it felt as if Beomgyu was made of ice. It was nearly impossible to get close, and even when you did, there was a thick layer concealing him. Nothing you said seemed to get him to melt, and anything regarding his personal life was kept stored deep within the cold.

Beneath you Beomgyu shifts and you soon feel the warmth of his body disappear as he climbs out of bed. He doesn’t bother turning on the light but you can hear him pulling his clothes back on as he prepares to leave. — With a quiet kiss to your forehead he says, “I’ll text you.” And with that he was gone.

It was the first time he’d left before you fell asleep.

⸝⸝

📼 — April 17th 2022

Days went by after that, and you didn’t hear from Beomgyu once. And when a whole week had passed since your night at the hotel, you were beginning to think that perhaps you never would. But if it was one thing you would come to learn about him, it was that you never had him where you thought you did.

You were halfway through your morning lecture when you got his notification. A new number, a new address, just like usual. The relief and excitement that immediately flooded your senses should have been concerning. Did you long for him much so that even a simple text could get you worked up? It was almost as if you had become addicted. Everytime the unknown number flashed across your screen you knew that you would be getting your next fix.

Anticipation flowed through your veins and you hurriedly stashed your books in your bag as soon as your professor finished talking. There was little time to waste. You walk with quick and fast paced strides, ignoring any of your classmates that tried to approach, all with friendly smiles on their faces. Any other day but today, you thought. Because today was about him.

You reach the parking lot, all the way to your car and with your hand on the handle, a small tap to your shoulder makes you freeze. Twisting around on the spot, your eyes widen as they land on your slightly panting classmate.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry Taehyun, I didn’t realize you were..”

Your classmate waves a dismissing hand, shaking his head as he catches his breath. “It’s alright”, Taehyun clears his throat, a small grin spreading across his face. Taehyun was perhaps the only friend you had made during your time spent studying criminal justice. He was easy to talk to, and made your courses somewhat easier. You would often partner up for group projects, and this time around was no different.

“I was wondering if you’re free tonight, for our project y’know..” He mumbles as he scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. Biting the inside of your cheek, you glance between your waiting classmate and the phone still gripped tightly in your hand. — You were supposed to meet Beomgyu tonight.

Then again, was it really such a good idea to put your own personal needs and pleasure above your important studies, not to mention Taehyun’s as well? Beomgyu had seemingly little care for your own schedule, yet you were breaking your back trying to be there at his every beck and call. — Your eyes meet Taehyun’s hopeful ones, and in that moment you can’t bring yourself to tell him no. Fact is he had actually asked you like a decent human being, rather than sending a simple text from what could only be a burner phone.

“If you’re not free we can totally reschedule..” — “Does 6:30 work for you?”

Taehyun blinks, seemingly taken aback before quickly nodding, “Sure!”

Perhaps this was just what you needed, a little distraction. Part of you wondered what would happen when you didn’t show up tonight, another part didn’t want to find out.

⸝⸝

Your afternoon was spent like most, cleaning tables at the restaurant in which you worked part time. The hours didn’t pay a lot, but it was enough to get you through the month as you balance your studies. Having hit off with both the owners and their son, you often found yourself staying for dinner or even getting sent home leftovers from the day. Their kindness was remarkable and you made sure to work hard in order to repay them.

It was nearing the end of your shift, the restaurant was fairly vacant and you had all but much to do. Upon clearing the last table, the doorbell suddenly chimed, announcing the arrival of new customers. Instinctively you turn to greet them — only to freeze in your tracks as your eyes fall on the small party of men. They were all dressed head to toe in black, some even wearing sunglasses despite the early spring season.

The man by the very front caught your eye and your heart leapt out of your chest when you connected his face with a name.

“You got any tables for five?” Duri’s booming voice sounds through the painstakingly empty room. He sounded nothing like the playful and almost flirtatious Duri you had met a couple of weeks ago. You nod, “This way”, you say, trying your best to swallow down the lump in your throat as you lead them toward a secluded table by the corner.

Upon handing them the menu, your gaze keeps flickering back to Duri. He had yet to show any signs of recognition and you were starting to think that perhaps he hadn’t recognized you at all. A temporary sense of relief washes over you, one that would quickly be disrupted as you begin taking orders. You save him for last, turning to him with the most friendly smile you could muster.

Duri remains quiet, a sly smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. It didn't remind you of Beomgyu in the slightest, this man felt almost disgusting in a way. “Surprise me”, he then says before slamming the menu book shut.

It isn’t until the kitchen doors fall shut behind you that you breathe out the tension you had allowed to build up during the past five minutes. What were the odds? Of all the restaurants why did he… You shake your head, dragging a tired hand down your face as you stifle a groan. — If he had recognized you, why didn’t he say something?

You glance down to the notepad in your hand, their orders scribbled down hastily as you hurried to get away from them. The word “surprise” seems taunting as your eyes linger on the messy ink. A small frown tugs on your brows and you quietly tap the paper as an idea enters your mind.

When bringing their food back out, you make sure to place Duri’s plate last, a rather strategic mood on your part. Your hands have an undeniable tremble to them as you tuck the folded note under the porcelain, making sure it peeks out just enough for him to see, and him only. Everyone else seems oblivious as they indulge in their meals, not paying you any mind even when you linger by their table for longer than needed.

Duri on the other hand has noticed the piece of paper. He pulls it out between his middle and index finger, shooting you a questioning glance to which you subtly shake your head. Then he chuckles, the sound building deep within his chest as he shoves the note in his pocket. — You breathe out a heavy sigh of relief.

With a quick bow you murmur a quiet, “Enjoy”, before turning on your heel and darting back to the kitchen. But before you make it to the large doors does his booming voice make you falter. “Thanks for the food, dollface.”

⸝⸝

Takeout boxes and empty bottles of soju crowd the small coffee table in Taehyun’s living room. Perched on his old sofa, you and your classmate find yourselves engrossed in schoolwork, just like you had been for the past four hours. Time seemed to have little concept when spent in the presence of Taehyun and you found yourself having a lot more fun than you’d originally intended.

Together you had been assigned to try and solve one of the many cold cases piling up at the office. It was a thrilling concept, it was something real and not fabricated by your professor for once. Using the little evidence there was, you and Taehyun play through the tape recordings of the few suspects interrogated.

“Wait, play this part back.” Taehyun mumbles as he reaches for the record player. “Doesn't the ex-boyfriend sound suspicious here? You can clearly hear it in the way his voice breaks.” With his finger on the device, he increases the volume as he plays the tape back. You lean forward, your hands on your knees as you listen to the piece of audio.

“I dunno..” You shrug, giving him a playful smile, “He sounds just like you.” Taehyun snorts, “As if.” Though he’s unable to refrain from grinning when he catches your giggle.

“We haven’t played that one yet”, you point toward another cassette and your partner nods in agreement as he reaches for it. “Promise you won’t get scared?” He teases, to which you give his shoulder a push.

Spending time with Taehyun was freeing, it was easy. But despite that, your subconscious kept wandering back to Beomgyu. A nervous feeling bubbled within your stomach, making your heart beat just a little faster at the thought of him. He’d occupied your mind for weeks now, holding your thoughts hostage and keeping you from focusing on what actually mattered. It was unfair, did he think about you like you thought about him? Hardly.

And after slipping Duri that note, you could only hope he would receive the news of your changed plans. Would he be angry with you, or would he just not continue to see you at all. Not being able to directly contact him gnawed at you — for you wanted nothing more than to dial a quicker number and hear his voice on the other line, as pathetic as it might sound.

Suppose it was a good thing after all. Had you had his number you probably wouldn’t be able to refrain from texting him. Yet you felt completely powerless like this, as if he was holding the strings and you were simply dancing along, just like he wanted you to.

A small, shameful part of you felt jealous. What if he’d called someone else. Surely you weren’t the only woman he saw. But you were still special. He never saw those girls again, they were temporary, so you told yourself. Not you though, you weren’t temporary. You were someone he would call for, over and over again, you were special.

“What do you think it’s going to be like?” Taehyun’s voice suddenly interrupts and you blink as you glance toward him. “Sorry what?” You dumbfoundedly ask, embarrassed over having spaced out like that. But your classmate only smiles, that stupidly warm and comforting smile of his. — “What do you think it’s going to be like? Out there I mean, when we finally make it.”

You purse your lips, you had never really thought about it like that. Sure, you had known for a long time that you wanted to be someone who did good, someone who served justice and spoke for those who couldn’t. But you had never actually stopped to think of what it would be like when you were actually out there.

You send Taehyun a lopsided grin, “I think it’s going to be awesome.”

⸝⸝

📼 — PRESENT TIME ; February 20th 2024

The sound of car doors slamming shut echo throughout the narrow alleyway. Upon stepping out the distinctive smell of sewage water invades your senses. Yeonjun, too, makes a face of disgust as he steps out beside you. “Fucking hell”, he mutters as he pinches the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses further up in the process.

The area was run down, yet nothing out of the ordinary. A small apartment complex loomed before you. The building was covered in graffiti and a multitude of its windows had been broken, making you assume that rent stayed on the cheaper end. — You didn’t have to stop and ask what kind of people lived here, you were far too familiar with the setting. Perhaps that was why you felt comfortable with taking the lead as you approached the small stone-staircase leading to the front door.

Bright yellow tape highlights the door concealing the crime scene, reading out the words ‘DO NOT CROSS’ in bold text. Pushing said tape aside, you rummage your pockets for the set of keys you’d been provided. The old wooden door makes a squeaking side upon being opened as it slowly reveals the tiny flat.

The sewage smell outside had been a mere foretaste of what was to come, and as the stench of dried blood hit you had to refrain from gagging. Behind you, Yeonjun remains silent as he lets you venture inside first, obviously interested in seeing your take on the scene. And while such a thing would’ve usually honored you, it somehow felt more like a curse today.

It’s dark inside the apartment. The windows were boarded up in order to divert any unwanted attention and the air had become humid due to the confined space, in turn only increasing the sickly sweet and rotten smell of human blood.

You mimic your senior’s actions of bringing out a flashlight, flicking it on before pointing it out before you. The frontdoor had led into an all but spacious hallway, following it took you to a tiny living room. — Something about crime scenes always makes you feel a melancholic sense of nostalgia. Whatever scene you were currently witnessing had been the last thing someone else ever had. It was a place where they had taken their very last breath, a time capsule, forever frozen in time.

Chaos has spread through the open area, and instead of stumbling across a huge pool of blood, you find that it’s everywhere. It covers the coffee table, some having dripped down onto the fluffy carpet beneath. The couch is stained, as are the walls leading out into the bedroom.

“They fought”, Yeonjun suddenly comments as he squats down by the sofa. He points his flashlight in the direction of the torn pillows, the indent of what had undoubtedly been a knife remaining. “He seems to have put up a hell of a fight”, you murmur as you gaze along the bloody handprints across the lower regions of the walls.

Your senior hums, “They started in the kitchen”, he gets up and turns toward the archway. You follow him inside the small room, your curiosity at its peak. “How do you know?” You wonder to which Yeonjun pulls out a plastic bag from the large backpack he carried. Your brows rise on your forehead as you survey the bloody knife concealed inside.

“This”, he says before motioning toward the sets of knives on the countertop and your gaze falls on the empty spot. — “Whoever killed Park Baekhyun attempted it with this knife, which they got from here.”

Yeonjun gestures toward the entirety of the space as he continues, “Besides, this room is far less blood stained than the living room, meaning the fight most likely erupted here and then progressed outside as the victim tried to flee.” — As you take in the state of the kitchen you realize that he’s right. While the room was certainly messy, with piles of unwashed dishes in the sink as well as old takeout boxes, it never appeared to hold any signs of direct trauma.

You follow him back into the living room as Yeonjun continues to piece together the events of that night. “The victim used pillows to defend himself”, he pointed toward the torn cushions whose feathers lay scattered across the couch. Then he frowns, “He got hit, and badly.” — Your gaze follows the heavy trail of blood leading toward the bedroom.

“It’s strange”, Yeonjun mutters under his breath. You can’t help but ask, “What is?”

Your senior motions toward the handprints covering the lower walls, “He couldn’t walk.”

Admittedly you didn’t quite understand what that had to do with the matter. So what if he couldn’t walk, his fate was sealed either way, no? But Yeonjun obviously saw something you didn’t. His abilities to tell as much from the situation intrigued you greatly, and you were eager to learn his ways.

As you approach the doorway leading to the bedroom he says, “The autopsy showed a wound on his right leg. Now, presuming that to be the reason he couldn’t walk he would have to have been crawling, using the walls to push himself forward, that would explain the handprints.” Yeonjun points to the dried blood on the cream white walls and you follow his line of sight. “This would have given the offender a great view of his throat, yet he didn’t kill him here.”

You frown, why not kill him if he had the opportunity? Why waste time like that unless… “He enjoyed the hunt.” Yeonjun firmly states as he stops on the threshold leading into the bedroom. With a quick glance down the hallway, his eyes linger on the front door. “But why aim for the bedroom and not the way out?”

“Could there be something important here?” You chime in, rocking back and forth on your heels as you eagerly peek over your seniors shoulder and into the bedroom. Yeonjun nods, “Perhaps.”

The room itself remains untouched, almost neat if not for the unmade bed and dirty laundry scattered around. Though the struggle of Park Baekhyun remains evident on the floor, a thick and heavy trail of blood dragging past the foot of the bed and into the joint bathroom.

A queasy feeling settles within your stomach as you approach. Out of all the rooms in the apartment, this somehow felt darker. The air was thicker, the scent of blood stronger and the lingering feeling of death almost crushing. — Once a pearly white, now covered in red was the bathroom. And as soon as you stepped inside, you knew that this was where the victim had taken his last dying breath.

The mirror, broken into a million tiny pieces, lay scattered across the floor like pieces of an unsolved puzzle. The sink had several large cracks in it, you guessed from banging something or someone against it.

Worst was the bathtub. Filled to the brim with murky red water, the shower curtains ripped off their hangers, likely a panicked response or one out of pure rage. Bloody hand and finger prints adorn the edge of the tub. — Yeonjun sighs next to you, “Victim’s cause of death was asphyxiation”, he points toward the water, “He drowned.”

It was then your heart sank as reality finally settled in. This could all be Beomgyu’s doing. At first it had felt surreal, seeing him after so many months. Finding out that he was the prime suspect of this case. You had managed to downplay the whole thing, you had denied, no refused to believe that the man you thought to have loved could have done something like this. It was a reality you had been dying for longer than you wanted to admit.

But as you see the blood, the way the victim had clung to life until the very end. And Beomgyu had taken that from him. He had taken it without any remorse. And you’d watched the grin playing on his lips when you read the case files, you’d heard the smugness in his voice. He was proud of himself, of what he had done.

You felt sick to your stomach. A hand clasped over your mouth, you shake your head. The room suddenly felt small, its walls closing in on you, shoving the cold hard truth in your face.

Beomgyu had killed someone.

⸝⸝

📼 — April 18th 2022

You ended up staying over at Taehyun’s place that night, and the next morning you carpooled to school. It was easy to forget when you were with him, and class proved to be just as good of a distraction. Before you knew it 9am had turned into 12pm and you soon found yourself walking out of the lecture hall.

Kayla was supposed to pick you up as your own car had been left at home. Your eyes scan the parking lot for her familiar little car, but in typical Kayla fashion she was probably running late. Deciding to just wait her out, you approach one of the nearby benches. — The spring day is a surprisingly warm one, a gentle breeze soothing over your face as you pull up your phone in order to try and reach your friend.

You’ve barely made it down to the letter K in your contact list when someone suddenly takes the seat next to you on the bench. Your thumb hovers above Kayla’s name and your body grows rigid as you bite your tongue. You did not have to turn your head to know who it was, for the ring clad fingers that intertwine over his lap tells you everything you need to know.

Beomgyu quietly hums next to you and you feel your blood go cold. His presence is both invasive and unsettling, and his silence certainly wasn’t helping. How did he know what university you attended — more importantly, why was he here? Because Beomgyu never asked to meet unless he wanted something, and you had never seen him like this, outside and in broad daylight. It terrified you.

Daring a small glance in his direction, your eyes fall on the dark attire he wore. He gazes ahead as he watches your classmates pass with an almost bored expression on his face. Try as you might but there was no telling if he was angry with you or not. Had he not gotten your message and was that why he was here? Or had he gotten it and that was why he was here?

You anxiously chew on the inside of your cheek, keeping your attention intently fixed on your phone in your hands. The thick silence seemed to drag on forever and you wondered when Kayla might show up, she would be far from pleased when she saw who you were chit-chatting with.

“Criminal justice?” Beomgyu finally asks, his voice matching the monotone expression on his face. You give a small, almost unnoticeable nod.

Beomgyu scoffs next to you as he leans back against the hard wood of the bench. He rolls his thumbs over one another, not bothering to glance in your direction. “I’m sure you’ll make a great little detective, dollface.”

You couldn’t tell if he was being genuine or not, either way you decide against asking. Instead you fiddle with the elastic of your phone case as you await his next words. Your eyes met with a few whom you recognized from your lectures, most just gave awkward smiles, while others attention lingered on Beomgyu. It was safe to say that he stood out amongst the crowd.

“You were busy yesterday.” He states and you suddenly remember your last conversation, the one which had ended on anything but a good note. — “School project..” You quietly murmur, choosing to leave Taehyun out of the equation.

“Studies are important”, Beomgyu hums, and it seems as though he’s ready to drop the subject again. But of course you had to go and ruin it. “Did you… Get my message?” The question had been prodding at your mind since yesterday afternoon, and your voice is but a mere whisper as the words leave your lips.

Beomgyu’s expression flashes with something you can’t quite place. It wasn’t fury but it highlighted his strong distaste for the topic. “Thought I told you not to acquaint yourself with Duri.” He sounds stern, and you felt like you were being scolded. Naturally your gaze drops to the ground and you swallow a gulp. “I know… But there was no other way for me to contact you.”

“Because you shouldn’t.” He suddenly snaps, his tone teetering on annoyed. Suddenly your conversation begins to feel much like your last. The fear of him walking off on you resurfaces and it felt almost too much to bear. Perhaps that was why you had so abruptly turned in your seat to look at him fully. The action makes him tilt his head in your direction. “But that’s unfair.”

“How am I supposed to just be available, what if something comes up? How would you know?” You were bordering on sounding whiny, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. Beomgyu raises a brow as he looks at you. You can’t tell if he’s considering your words or holding back laughter, but soon he smirks. “If you’re not available then you’re not.” He says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world, when reality it’s far from it.

You frown, “Then what about you?” — He shakes his head, “You worry ‘bout yourself, dollface.”

Your lips part in objection, but before the protest can slip, you hinder yourself. A bitter realization washes over you as you understand what he’d meant. Worry about yourself… Who were you kidding, he wouldn’t have to wait long for another girl to come along if you happened to be unavailable. How naive of you to think that what the two of you had was anything but causal, he’d already proven you that time and time again.

Now you just looked like an idiot for trying to compromise with him. You bite your lip as you avoid his gaze, wanting to be anywhere but in front of him right now. And it’s almost as if he’s reading your mind because in no less than ten seconds does he rise from his seat. — This was it, he was leaving you again, just like he had that night, and there was nothing you could do to stop him.

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