#if you look at the story you can't really say it's good

[jifloulette]

reo brainrot is plaguing my mind so here's some short bf hcs !!!!!

note ; oh my god this was rotting in my drafts since NOVEMBER. finally got the energy to finish the last one my gosh..

bf reo mikage whose mood completely depends on yours !

his classmates find it silly how you could be sitting on your chair feeling down because of a low test score you got and reo would be there beside you, seemingly sad too, but because of what?? he got an A+ on the same test after all..? his family finds it relieving to see reo smiling beamingly whenever you're smiling, you wouldn't even be smiling directly at him yet he'd still look gleeful! his teammates find it weird how reo could be mad at them, yelling and yelling, shouting and shouting, reminding them to play properly and get their act together and then you come in unannounced with a box of cookies and that same smile reo adores, suddenly his eyes light up and he's squealing when you come closer to him as if he just didn't swear the living shit out of his teammates. if reo could do cartwheels and frontflips, he would've done those on the way to you because he is just so madly in love with youuuuu!!!!

bf reo mikage who absolutely loves hearing go on and on and on about your day !

he especially loves it more when you're spilling tea about people from your class. i mean yeah he knows it's bad but he can't help it? the way you're so focused on telling him an almost 3 minute gossip about this one girl in your history class is all he needs to just lay there on bed with you as he caresses your hair. those moments seldom happen, it usually has you having him lay on your chest while you talk about the funny incident at math class where your teacher forgot about the quiz that was supposed to be taken today and how you got 2 drinks from the vending machine instead of one because you had stumbled over air and hit the machine harshly which caused another drink to fall down. oh and he sees your eyes glimmer up and how you almost always run out of breath because you just have so much to tell him! even if he's always clinging to you either by interlocking arms or grabbing your waist, you'll always have some stories to ramble that even he doesn't know off!

bf reo mikage who impulsively buys anything he sees in stores that remind you of him !

it's a bad habit of his but is it really that bad when he gets to feel you embrace him when he shows you the new matching keychains he bought the two of you? though you tend to scold him for spoiling you rotten, nothing will ever stop him from buying you gifts and trinkets because that's his love language! passing by popmart and sees the mofusand hippers? automatically buys FIVE because he thought they looked like you whenever you were zoning out which is a telltale sign that you badly needed reo to give you a piggyback ride home, not that he minded it though. he's scrolling through facebook and an ad for a jacket pops up? he's already buying two versions, one for you and one for him so that you guys can match! reo def gets offended when you ask him how much they cost and that you'll pay him back because he is your BOYFRIENDDD, he will buy those gifts with NO intention of getting something back.

bf reo mikage who lets you do all sorts of hairstyles on him !

he will also proudly show it off when you guys are at school too, he could care less about what other people think because why would he? his s/o did that hairstyle for him so why should he be ashamed? you would see a cute hairstyle post whilst scrolling through Tiktok and wanted to try it out, but before doing it on you, what better way to see if it was cute by trying it out on your boyfriend? reo wouldn't even try to say no because he wouldn't mind it at all, plus it was a good way to spend time with you. you would let him hold your phone as you try to follow the steps in the video as quickly yet properly as you can. after a few mistakes and redos, you had finished the look and dare you say, it may fit him better than you.. reo looked really good even though the hairstyle was a bit on the feminine side. he'd keep it on for the entire day, not caring or doing anything when the teachers tell him to take it off (rich boy privileges LMAO) oh and later on, you'd also put pins and hairclips on him too! the ones that matched his hair and eyes! this would also be a frequent sleepover activity the two of you do, reo would set up a space in his room dedicated to THIS specific thing!!!

©🇯​​🇮​​🇫​​🇱​​🇴​​🇺​​🇱​​🇪​​🇹​​🇹​​🇪​, do not steal, translate, or repost any of my writings anywhere else. ౨ৎ

[nookisms]

Alright I'll try to explain this. Our belief on life after death is called the plan of salvation. (Well life after death is the second half, but we need the ENTIRE thing.)

There's this popular post going around with this diagram of the plan of salvation on it:

This diagram is 1. Really complicated looking. 2. Missing a few steps.

So let's use a simpler one:

(Sorry I don't know why it's so blurry.)

Let's start at the beginning with premortal existence. This is actually important, because it answers one of your questions! Heavenly Father asks everyone who will fulfill his plan, Satan says that he will have everyone forced to follow him and Jesus says everyone will be allowed agency (Moses 4:1-3). There's a war in heaven and Satan and a third of the angels are cast out. (Revelation 12:4, 7-9)

This third is the Sons of Perdition, and they're trapped in Outer Darkness. (We'll get to the ones that were cast out to be Sons of Perdition later.)

Next step that's relevant to your questions is the Spirit World, and Spirit Prison. (D&C 138:11-37, but the entire chapter is about the Spirit World) Yes, there's a difference between the sides, as you pointed out, but I've always believed that they're not too different. The only major difference is who can interact with Jesus. It's for spiritual missionaries to teach those in Spirit Prison about the gospel and stuff while those of us who are alive can do their ordinances. If they accept the gospel, yippee! If they don't, oh well. Agency is the most important thing we own! I guess that's just reiterating your point, but we don't really know much about the spirit world.

Now we're into the major part, resurrection and final judgement. This is where we're gonna talk about the few people that were alive but were cast out to be Sons of Perdition. The reason the Sons of Perdition from premortal existence were cast out were because they saw the face of God and turned their back on him. The ones who were alive and cast out saw his face then turned around and said there was no god. Imagine someone seeing you face-to-face then they tell their friends you don't exist. That's a no go with Heavenly Father. :) Sorry you're going to the forever box. Yeah, it's not a perfectly happy ending, but it's not going to happen to me or you. It's only going to happen to religious leaders or the like.

With the kingdoms, it's a much happier story. People from the higher kingdoms can visit people in the lower kingdoms, so you won't ever be separated from your friends and family. The telestial kingdom is the lowest, and I can't remember the verse and I wouldn't ever be able to find it, but I remember that somewhere it says that it will be better there than it is here.

Uh... I don't have a good way to end this. Feel free to ask clarifying questions?

seeing people discussing the concept of hell and how cruel the idea of eternal punishment is like, wow! i know this belief system you would love if not for your knee-jerk reaction against its name

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

A Curse [Chapter 2: Harbor Gateway]

A/N: Thank you for the warm welcome you have given this series!!! I am sick with bronchitis currently so this has been a big bright spot in an otherwise miserable week 😅 I can't wait to show you where this story is going, I hope you're ready for it 🥰💜

Series summary: You are an aspiring actress. Aegon is a washed-up and disenchanted agent...at least until he sees something special in you. But within paradisical seaside Los Angeles you find terrible dangers and temptations, secrets and lies. Maybe Aegon's right; maybe the City of Angels really is a curse.

Chapter warnings: Language, a tiny bit of sexual content (18+ readers only), age-gap relationship, entertainment industry misogyny, some body dissatisfaction/dysmorphia, ice cream, judgmental parents, aggressive Akitas, we're literally in Minnesota!!!

Word count: 6.1k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Tagging: @lauraneedstochill @mrs-starkgaryen @chattylurker @neithriddle @ecstaticactus, more in comments! 🥰

🏝️ Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🏝️

Afterwards, Mason pulls his clothes back on as you are absentmindedly drawing stars in the steam on the windows of his Chevy Silverado. On the other side of the glass is inky Minnesota night, a full moon dissolving away, glowing freckles of constellations. You’re staying with your parents and Mason has roommates, so the truck was the expedient choice. It was good, not that you finished; you didn’t say anything, he didn’t ask, but even if he had you would have told him not to worry about it. It can take forever, especially with an audience. You’d rather wait until you’re alone.

Mason glances down at the used condom on the floor of his Silverado, hastily discarded, viscerally slick in a way that becomes sickening in the letdown, as the endorphins and the adrenaline slip away and the blood pumps slow and unclouded. He smirks as he asks: “You sure you don’t want to get back on the pill?”

You sigh, drawing another star. You are still naked and sprawled across the back seat, glistening with sweat in the moonlight. “Well I tried three different prescriptions and had three miserable experiences, and I’m really not interested in playing side effect roulette again. And I can’t risk my skin going insane and random bleeding when I’m running around all over L.A. trying to get parts.”

“What about that little sperm assassin T-shaped thing?”

You look at him. “An IUD?”

“Yeah.”

You wince, engraving another star into the steam on the window. “I don’t think I like the idea of having a piece of metal shoved up inside me.”

He laughs. “But you’ll get silicone implants?”

You shrug; you can’t deny the irony. “I don’t need an IUD to be an actress.”

“Look, I’m not complaining about the tits thing,” Mason says, holding up his hands. “Obviously I’d enjoy them too. And you’d still have them when you move home, so it’s not a waste even if the acting thing doesn’t work out.”

You already know he feels this way, and yet still, it hurts. “When I move home?”

He smiles and crawls back on top of you, his Carleton College hoodie whispering against your belly and chest, soft royal blue cotton on damp skin. He had been a Political Science and International Relations major who took Theater Arts 195: Acting Shakespeare for an arts credit. He was beyond terrible and had no appreciation for the field whatsoever, but he was tall and strong and jolly, an earnest corn-fed Midwestern boy, and when one day after class he’d asked if he could take you to Culver’s for a burger and frozen custard, you’d said yes.

Here and now, in the back seat of his Chevy Silverado, Mason kisses your forehead. Then he ghosts his thumb over the ridge of your orbital socket and cheekbone, where your dark glittery eyeshadow has smudged like a spreading bruise: Galaxy by Anastasia Beverly Hills, Elysian by Natasha Denona. “I’m not saying you aren’t good. But how many people on this planet get to be movie stars? It’s just not realistic. And it’s about so much more than talent. It’s about who you know, and luck, and chemistry, and looks, and a bunch of other things that are mostly out of your control. You’re never going to be the type of girl who’s an influencer or winning Miss America, you’re just not. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t very, very pretty. And I loved you anyway.”

Loved, past tense. You and Mason stopped using that word a year ago; now the nostalgia is painting memories like the walls of an old house. His memories, anyway. You sit up and start yanking on your clothes: oversized yellow Santa Monica crewneck, black sweatpants with elastic cuffs at the ankles. “I think I’m going to get the gummy bear implants.”

Mason licks his lips. “Yum.”

“They’re a type of silicone, but they’re supposed to feel more natural and be less dangerous if they rupture.”

“Will you have scars?” he says as if the notion has just occurred to him, troubled, perhaps a little revolted.

“Well yeah, they have to end up under my skin somehow.”

Mason shudders, then he has another thought. “Who’s going to take care of you after surgery when you’re all sore and zonked out on opioids?”

“My roommate Baela said she would. She’s had friends who have gone through it already.”

“Okay, good. I wouldn’t want you to be alone out there.” Mason touches the back of your head, a quick fond gesture. He’s the only man you’ve ever been with, and even that took a while, months of trying to envision him undressing you before you were sure you could do it without flinching, without being afraid or shy or bewildered. But in the end it had been easy, always easy, which is why you keep coming back to him like a comet. Your elliptical orbit takes you far away and then close again, and such natural patterns are effortless to keep.

You say, the edges of your lips curling into a furtive smile: “I’m definitely not alone.”

Mason groans. “You’re going to hook up with that new agent guy, aren’t you?”

“What? No! No way, he has a fiancée.”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s more amused than annoyed. “Okay, whatever.”

“You know I don’t date anyone.” Which is why each time you’re home visiting, Mason gets a text: Want to get lunch at Culver’s? or Can you drive me to Target? or Pick me up around 9 p.m.?

Mason smirks and taunts: “I don’t know, with the way you talk about him you sound kind of obsessed.”

“I’m just grateful. Someone finally gave me a chance.” You look to the window; the steam and your hand-drawn stars have evaporated away. “And yeah, he’s interesting and he’s cute, and he’s kind of mean but then unexpectedly caring sometimes, and I think he’s one of those people who are really good at what they do but only when they’re inspired…but that doesn’t mean I’m into him romantically.” A pause. “And even if I was, there’s no harm in a super-secret, one-sided crush.”

“Okay. Have fun with all the adulterous sex.”

You chuckle. “Thanks, but that is not the plan.” You slip on your flip-flops, shimmy out of the back seat, and trot around the Silverado to the passenger’s door. Mason climbs into the driver’s seat and turns his key in the ignition. You ask: “What happened to that ballerina girl who was in your Instagram stories for a while?”

“Had to ghost her, she got super clingy and controlling. She was texting me at work all the time and got pissed off when I was putting a ton of hours into that election thing for CNN.” Mason is a political analyst. He turns to you. “You ever feel like people are the best versions of themselves before you really know them? Then you get too close and all the cracks start showing.”

“I think people are wonderful. You just have to find the ones you click with.”

“I should have figured you’d say something like that.” He steers his truck out of the otherwise empty parking lot in Lac Lavon Park. “I’m looking forward to you being home again.”

“I’m not.”

You both laugh, and then Mason drives you to your parents’ house.

At the dining room table, Mom and Clara are researching wedding venues, vast countryside estates and metropolitan historic hotels. Clara got engaged two weeks ago during a vacation to Turks and Caicos. In the living room, Dad and Tripp are watching commentary on the NBA Finals. Tripp’s name isn’t really Tripp; he is the third James in a row, named after your father and grandfather, and Tripp is short for triple. All over the house, there are Akitas lolling in plush dog beds and clicking around on Brazilian Cherry hardwood floors. They have faces like teddy bears, but their dark eyes track you mistrustfully, as if you are an intruder.

No one asks where you have been. They barely acknowledge that you are back. “Hello, dear,” your mother calls distractedly from the dining room, and that’s all. You jog upstairs to the bathroom you share with Clara before anyone can notice your smeared makeup and the unsavory post-car-sex sweat gleaming on your skin. You get into the shower, turn on water so hot it is nearly scalding, and close your eyes. With your back pressed to the jade green tiles, your hand wanders down over your belly and stops between your legs. Your mind cycles through fantasies, but nothing seems to be working.

It’s not real. It can’t hurt anybody.

You imagine that Aegon is the one touching you, and in under a minute it’s over.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I want there to be horses,” Clara says, scrolling through her phone and ignoring the food on her plate: roast chicken, homemade mashed potatoes, green beans sauteed in garlic and olive oil, panzanella salad. Mom prepared it all herself, not because there was no help available—your parents have a housekeeper named Angela who comes by several days per week—but to prove she could. In the living room are shelves heavy with books by Martha Stewart, Ina Garten, Cat Cora, Julia Child, Nigella Lawson. You hear echoes of ambient clicking, Akitas meandering down hallways and staircases.

“Horses?!” Tripp replies with a mouthful of mashed potatoes, gesturing to the sliding glass door. “Don’t you get enough horses in your everyday life? Don’t you have like five right out there?” Your parents’ house sits on ten acres of land, including a barn and several paddocks for Clara’s rescued Thoroughbreds.

“I want beautiful horses,” Clara insists. “Unusual, photogenic, so they can be in the background of all the photos. Maybe Friesians or Haflingers?”

“I’m not sure we can sort the venues by types of horses available, dear,” Mom says. All that’s on her own plate is a heap of green beans and a few pieces of skinless white meat chicken.

Clara moans and drops her face into her hands. “It’s so overwhelming!”

“You’ll find a place you like, Clara Bear,” Dad says mildly, painstakingly slicing meat off a drumstick with his fork and knife.

“And Owen is no help at all. Every time I ask for his opinion he just tells me to do whatever I think is best, but I don’t know what’s best, that’s why I’m asking him!”

Your mother pats Clara’s shoulder reassuringly. “Guys don’t care about weddings,” Tripp says, twisting around in his chair to see the television in the living room. On a rerun of E! News, the hosts are discussing Chris Hemsworth’s rigorous fitness regime and Meghan Trainor’s “mommy makeover.” You peek under the tablecloth. One of the Akitas, Yuki, is glaring as she waits for you to drop something for her to eat.

“You could do something like that,” Mom says to you, and you realize you haven’t been listening to the conversation.

“Sorry, do what?”

“You could be a wedding planner or a real estate agent. Those are actual careers, but there’s more creativity involved, isn’t there? And didn’t you take a design class in college? That would certainly come in handy.”

“Hm,” your father says with a frown, still dissecting his chicken. He would rather you go to law school like Tripp. You would rather lie down in traffic.

“I took a set design class, Mom. Because I was studying how to be an actress. And that’s what I’m doing right now in Los Angeles, trying to be an actress.”

“You could become an architect!” Mom bursts out with sudden enthusiasm. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”

You titter evasively. “I can’t draw, Mom. Or use the modeling software, or do math.”

“You know, you don’t need any specific degree to get into law school,” Tripp says, and your father gives him a nod of approval. “You could have majored in dance or bagpiping or Egyptology, it doesn’t matter. All they want is a high undergrad GPA and a 168+ LSAT score, and I bet you could get that if you studied. You can even retake the test a few times if you need to.”

“Why do you do that?” Clara snaps at him. You eat your panzanella salad and pretend not to be listening. Beneath the tablecloth, Yuki growls. You toss her a few cubes of Italian bread so she won’t bite you.

Tripp shovels mashed potatoes into his mouth. “Do what?”

“Why are you always wasting your time trying to convince her to grow up and get a real job? If she wants to embarrass herself, let her. I have problems that I’m trying to solve, so how about applying yourself to those instead?”

“Are you serious? You think I should be calling around to wedding venues asking about their selection of exotic draft horses?”

Clara aggressively stabs at her green beans with her fork. “Fuck off, Tripp.”

“Hey, hey, kids, no swearing,” your mother says. “It’s Father’s Day. Be respectful.”

Dad turns to you. “You could be an entertainment lawyer, how about that? You could work in intellectual property or negotiating contracts.”

You smile warily. “I’ll think about it, Dad.”

Clara says to your parents: “Well I hope all the money you’re throwing out the window to support her in California isn’t coming out of my wedding fund.”

You close your eyes and think: I can’t spend my life in a cubical. I can’t spend every minute of every day trying to forget who I am.

“Shh, shh,” your mother pleads, rubbing the back of Clara’s clenched hand. “You will get exactly what we promised you, that amount is still set aside for your wedding. Nothing she does affects you.”

“And it’s only until the end of the year,” your father adds. “Then the vacation is over.” Then the meager allowance they are funneling to you will stop and you will be ordered to return home to pursue an honorable course of existence. You have six months to succeed in Hollywood, or the dream dies.

Your father is now asking Tripp about his summer associate position at Latham & Watkins in Chicago. Your mother is advising Clara to get a wedding dress with a corset back so it can be adjusted in the event she gains or loses weight at the last minute. Underneath the table, Yuki is growling again; she noses your knees threateningly.

“I got an agent,” you say, and everyone looks at you.

“Really?” Mom asks, sounding a little perplexed.

“Who is it?” Dad says.

“Aegon Targaryen. He has a small office in Elysian Park.”

“Oh, I think I recognize the last name.”

“His family is in the industry.” You are beaming; you can feel the heat rising in your face. “But Aegon kind of does his own thing and tries to stay out of the limelight. He was an actor when he was my age. And I guess he thinks I can get roles, so that’s really exciting.”

Your mother seems concerned as she nibbles at a shred of white meat. “Is he an older man?”

“Not that much older. He’s thirty-five.”

“Well, be careful, darling,” your father says gravely. “Who knows what his intentions are.”

Clara evidently agrees. “Men can be so creepy. I had this one professor in pharmacy school who cheated on his wife with one student, then cheated on her six months later with a different student. And then he retired to Boca Raton and was never heard from again.”

“Oh, that reminds me!” Tripp says to your father. “We read about Clinton v. Jones in torts class, it was wild, I didn’t know he was such a freak even before the Monica Lewinsky thing…”

After dinner, while your father and Tripp are flipping through television channels in the living room and Clara is upstairs on the phone with Owen, you go to the kitchen where your mother is washing dishes in a bubble-filled sink. Again, she doesn’t have to do this; Angela will be here to clean the house tomorrow. But it’s part of being a perfect homemaker, and if she’s not good at this then she’s not good at anything.

She glances over when she hears you come in. “Did you get an appointment with one of the doctors your father recommended?”

“I did, yeah. I have a consultation on Friday.” You lean against the marble countertop and cross your arms so you don’t fidget nervously. From a dog bed on the floor, Mochi glowers at you. “Do you think I should get the surgery?”

She shrugs; you’re not certain if she is more indecisive or apathetic. “Your cousin Madison had a nose job the summer before college. Your old classmate Emma got a blepharoplasty and then met her husband three months later. Practically all of my friends have had breast augmentations, and I’ve certainly never regretted mine. I think if you’re going to get anything fixed, it makes sense to pick that.”

You try again to elicit a strong opinion, whether an endorsement or objection. “I don’t think I’d want to do it if I didn’t feel like it was necessary to be an actress.”

“Well, regardless of whatever you have going on in California, you’ll either have to get them done now or after you have children,” Mom says. “I love you and Clara and Tripp, but you destroyed my body. At least doctors can repair breasts. My bladder is still useless.”

You stare at Mochi distractedly. The dog huffs, unwelcoming. “What was the recovery like?”

“Oh, hell,” your mother says. “But once you heal up it’s worth it. I can wear square necklines and strapless dresses again.”

“Technically, you could have worn whatever you wanted.”

She gives you an impatient look, a you’re too old for that sort of frustration. “No one wants to see some sad flabby woman.” She is including your father in this statement. You remember being home for Thanksgiving Break during your freshman year at Carleton and inadvertently stumbling upon emails from one of the hospital interns when you used his laptop to buy movie tickets: indecent inuendoes, flirtatious photos, no smoking gun but certainly more than was appropriate between colleagues. You had tried to tell your mother, and she had deflected over and over again until you realized that she didn’t want to know; it was easier to be carried by the currents of momentum than to rock the boat until it sank. “This agent of yours…is he celebrating Father’s Day with his family?”

“No, Aegon lost his dad when he was in college.”

“That must have been difficult,” she says vaguely as she scrubs a pot with a green Scotch-Brite dish wand. Your parents are now at the age when their friends have begun to succumb to strokes and heart disease and cancers, and the lurking specter of mortality both horrifies and fascinates them. “What did he die of?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Mom?!” Clara shouts from upstairs. “Osaka is puking in the hallway!”

Your mother sighs and dries her hands on a dish towel, then leaves you alone in the kitchen. You linger there for a while, listening to the faint drone of CNN from the living room television, then leave the house through the sliding glass door in the dining room. Outside the sun is setting, and you gaze westward as the aging daylight turns the tall green grass and silhouettes of horses to gold like the mines that first brought settlers to California. You slide your phone out of the pocket of your denim shorts and take a photo, then post it to your Instagram story with the caption Home and a smiley face emoji.

A minute later, you receive a DM. Aegon has typed: This explains the big horse girl energy

You laugh and respond: They belong to my sister, I am personally very anti-horse

You hope he’ll continue the conversation. You don’t have to wait long. How’s Minnesota? Aegon asks.

You stop and consider how to answer, then decide not to overshare. Devoid of palm trees…but good!

There is a pause—perhaps thirty seconds—and then Aegon types: How’s the ex-boyfriend?

Is he curious or jealous? You smile. Still not standing in the way of anything :)

Aegon reacts with a heart emoji, then immediately switches it to a thumbs-up. You cannot ignore the wave of warmth and fondness and exhilaration that overwhelms you. Logically, you know he’s engaged to another woman. Emotionally, it doesn’t seem relevant.

You think: It’s just a crush. It can’t hurt anybody.

Then you remember what your mother asked, and as you stand outside in the fading dusk light you Google Aegon’s father Viserys Targaryen. He has his own Wikipedia page. You scroll to the bottom, where it reads in nondescript black letters: On October 27, 2009, Targaryen passed away at his Malibu residence after a long illness.

~~~~~~~~~~

You have just finished ringing up a Like It-sized Apple Pie A La Cold Stone when Josh says: “Hey, there’s an old guy asking for you.”

“What?” You look towards the ice cream freezer and there he is, dark jeans, green Nike Killshots, a yellow Hawaiian shirt that’s too big for him. “It’s my agent!” you shout as you rush over to meet him, loud enough that everyone in the shop turns to stare.

“Shh,” Aegon says, but he’s laughing.

“What are you doing here?” you ask from behind the counter.

“I got some good news, and I wanted to tell you in person.”

“Cool! Should I make you ice cream first?”

“Um, sure.” Aegon surveys the menu of Signature Creations. He seems overwhelmed; he actually looks a little panicked.

“Are you usually a chocolate or vanilla person? Or peanut butter, or coffee? Or mint?”

“Strawberry,” Aegon says.

“Strawberry,” you echo, surprised. “Okay, I think you’ll like Our Strawberry Blonde.”

“Neat.”

“Because, you know, it has strawberries and you’re blonde.”

“Sounds literally perfect for me,” Aegon says, smiling.

“What size?”

“Uh…” He reads the labels on the cups in the display case. “The big one.”

“No, you have to say the real name.”

He chuckles. His cheeks are pink, his turbulent blue eyes sparkling. “I’m not saying that.”

“Then I’m not making you ice cream!”

He groans. “I want an Our Strawberry Blonde in the size Gotta Have It.”

“Cup, cone, or waffle cone bowl?”

“Stop asking me questions or you’re fired.”

“Waffle cone bowl,” you decide. Aegon studies you as you work, his head tilted thoughtfully to the side: scraping a mound of strawberry ice cream out of the freezer with your metal spatulas, taking it to the cold countertop, and smashing in graham cracker pie crust, caramel, fluffy whipped topping, and fresh strawberries. You use one of the spatulas to expertly scoop the mixture into a waffle cone bowl, not spilling a drop. Then you hand Aegon his ice cream and ring him up at the cash register. He pays in cash.

You ask Josh, the manager on duty, if you can take your fifteen-minute break now. He frowns. “I thought you were going to refill the yellow cake and Oreo cookie mix-ins first.”

“Hey,” Aegon says. He waves a ten-dollar bill in the air to show it to Josh and then dunks it in the tip jar. “Do it yourself.”

“Fine,” Josh mutters to you. “But you don’t get a second over fifteen minutes.”

There’s no time to waste. You hurry to a small table by the window. It’s 8:30 p.m., and outside the world is indigo-dark and threaded with inorganic sparks of headlights, streetlights, kaleidoscopic neon signs. Your eyeshadow is vibrant and pink, because no one cares about that when you work at an ice cream shop: Push by Natasha Denona, Coax by Urban Decay.

Aegon takes his first taste of his ice cream as he sits down in the chair across from you. “You were right, this is delicious. A bop, not a flop.” Then he notices the bruise on your right wrist. “What the hell happened to your hand?”

“Oh. One of the Akitas bit me. Don’t worry, I can cover it up with concealer.”

Aegon is irritated. “Why is your mother letting her Akitas bite you?”

“It was my fault. I forgot that Oni doesn’t like when people pet his feet.”

Aegon sighs, stirring his Our Strawberry Blonde. “You want some of this?”

“I can’t,” you say reluctantly.

He raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean you can’t?”

“I already had a little cup when I got here this afternoon so I have regrettably hit my ice cream quota for the day.” And then, when Aegon clearly does not approve: “I try not to restrict too much but obviously staying the same size takes effort. That’s not a disorder, it’s just reality.”

Aegon seems to debate arguing, then instead scoops up a heaping spoonful of ice cream and holds it out across the table. “Come on. It doesn’t count if it’s on my spoon.”

You smile sheepishly and open your mouth for him. Your lips close around the plastic spoon: coldness, sweetness, the grit of pulverized graham cracker pie crust, the infinitesimal black seeds of strawberries that catch between your teeth. When Aegon begins to pull it away, you grab his hand and don’t let go until you’ve licked the spoon clean. He laughs hysterically as he watches you. “I haven’t had strawberry ice cream in forever,” you say.

“Don’t tell me you’re a vanilla girl.”

“I am,” you confess. “I know the joke. But I really do always get the vanilla-adjacent flavors. Cookie dough, French vanilla, sweet cream, cheesecake…”

Aegon smirks playfully. “Pathetic.”

“So you’re an enlightened being because you eat strawberry ice cream.”

“Boring people like vanilla. Kids like chocolate. Interesting adults like strawberry.”

“Do you actually have good news for me or did you just come here to be a ghoul?”

“I got you a part.”

“What?!” you squeal, and people are gawking again. This time, Aegon doesn’t tell you to be quiet. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he replies, grinning like he can’t help it.

“A part in what?”

“It’s small,” Aegon warns. “It’s an episode of Grey’s Anatomy.”

You scream; Josh scowls at you from behind the counter. “Oh my God, no way, no way!”

“You’re going to be the wife of a guy the doctors kill with negligence. Three scenes, two are pretty short and unremarkable but then you get to yell at the surgeon in the last one. Gives you the opportunity to show some range and make an impression.”

You can’t believe this is happening. “They aren’t going to make me audition first?”

“Well…it’s very last-minute,” Aegon says. “The actress who was supposed to do it has a drug problem or something, I guess, so she ghosted and they were scrambling for a replacement. And I completely fabricated your credentials.”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah, I typed up a resume and sent it over and they loved it. So try not to talk about your actual experience because none of it will match.”

You shake your head, stunned, amazed. “What if they try to contact one of my alleged former employers?”

“Then they’ll be talking to Aemond, and he will lie and say you were an absolute pleasure to work with.”

Aemond Targaryen: Aegon’s younger brother, a screenwriter, a philanthropist, a well-respected entity in Hollywood, and you know this from the Googling that preceded your first meeting with Aegon last week. “And Aemond doesn’t mind helping you commit fraud?”

“It’s not a favor I call in very often.” Aegon finishes his ice cream, then begins breaking apart the waffle cone bowl and shoving shard-like pieces into his mouth.

“When’s the shoot?”

“Very very early on Thursday, that’s the bad news.” Thursday is two days from now. “So I’ll have to pick you up at your apartment at like 5 a.m.”

“That’s fine. I’ll be ready.”

He smiles, gnawing on a chunk of his waffle cone bowl. “I figured.”

“You’re going too?” The hope is unmistakable in your voice.

“Of course I’m going.”

“I didn’t think agents usually went to film shoots.”

“Well, fortunately for you, your agent is imminently fleeing Los Angeles and has already parted ways with most of his clients and really has nothing else going on besides hiding in his office and playing a Nintendo 64, so I figured I could make it. And also if I’m going to be enthusiastically recommending you to people, I should probably see you work at some point.”

You wiggle your eyebrows flirtatiously. “Do I get to make out with my fake husband?”

Aegon is amused. “From what I understand, you get to chastely kiss him once. They’re sending the script over to my office first thing in the morning, so you’ll only have a day to learn your lines.”

“That’s enough time. I’ll make it work.”

“Always so agreeable,” Aegon muses. So desperate is more like it.

Thursday. “Is the shoot just one day?”

“Yeah, they should be able to get everything they need from you on Thursday morning. Why?”

“I have a doctor’s appointment on Friday and I was just wondering if I’d have to reschedule it.”

Aegon is immediately vigilant. “What kind of appointment?”

“Uh…” You smirk guiltily. “It’s just a consultation. No slicing yet.”

“And you’re going to cancel that,” Aegon says flatly.

“Seriously?”

“Do you want implants because you want them or because you think other people want you to have them?”

You hesitate. “Both.” That’s probably a lie.

Aegon leans back in his chair and studies you. “Yeah, you’re cancelling that appointment.”

“Why?”

“Because when I agreed to sign you, you told me that you’d do anything I say. And I’m telling you to cancel it.”

“But why don’t you want me to get implants? Everyone gets implants.”

“Because once you begin to treat scalpels and needles as prescriptions for everything you don’t like about yourself—or everything that other people don’t like about you—it’s very difficult to stop. First it’s your tits, then it’s your eyes and your nose, then it’s your chin and your cheeks and your neck and your ass, and it’s just this revolving door of painful, dangerous, unnecessary procedures that are condemning you for being mortal, that are carving away your humanity one incision at a time. I’ve seen it happen to more people than I could count, and I don’t want it to happen to you. Because you seem very, very human, and I’d like you to stay that way. Which means you don’t cut yourself up because some agent or producer or casting director told you to.” Then he adds, perhaps as an afterthought: “And anyway, you don’t need implants.”

You smile, then reply quietly: “You’ve never seen me.”

Aegon grins. “I don’t care if you have twelve nipples under there like a fucking beagle, you don’t need plastic surgery.”

You both laugh, and the tension evaporates, and even if you don’t cancel the appointment—Aegon is one person, the entertainment industry is omnipotent and eternal—you are glad he seems to like you the way you are. Behind the counter, Josh is waving manically to get your attention and summon you to return to work. You pretend not to see him.

Aegon asks: “Why don’t you like horses?”

“They freak me out. They’re all teeth and legs and they’re huge, I’m always scared they’ll step on me.”

“Your dad’s a doctor, right? I thought all rich girls had horses.”

“Where I’m from, a lot of women ride horses to distract themselves from the fact that their husbands are riding their receptionists or interns. I’d rather have no horse and no awful cheating husband.” And Aegon stares at you and turns serious, because perhaps you’ve inadvertently addressed the elephant in the room: he has a fiancée, and neither of you are acting like she exists. You swiftly pivot. “I’ll make an exception for you, though.”

He appears startled. “What?”

“The Chinese zodiac. You’re a horse. So you’re the only horse I like.”

“Oh, yeah. Right.” Aegon chuckles uneasily and gets up to throw his trash away, then stands under the florescent lights with his hands in his pockets, his blonde hair falling out of its gel and hanging over his forehead. He gazes down at you pensively; you are still seated at the table. “When does your shift end?”

“I’m closing tonight, so I’ll be done around 10:30 or 11.”

“Okay. Can I come back to pick you up and drive you home?”

You are puzzled. “Why?”

He gestures to the inky dark window, incredulous. “Because obviously you shouldn’t be walking alone in Harbor Gateway at midnight? You know there was a shooting a block from here last week. I looked it up.”

“I walk home all the time.”

“You really need to stop doing that.”

“You are being very dramatic for a non-actor.”

“Listen, I can’t go to my house and try to fall asleep while I’m wondering if you’re getting mugged or murdered.”

You look at Aegon. He does seem genuinely worried. “You can drive me home.”

“Great. See you in two hours.” He strides away and shoves open the glass door; the little metal bells hanging there jingle.

“Aegon?”

He halts mid-step and turns around. “Yeah?”

“Does Becca know where you are right now?”

His face is some amalgamation of emotions you can’t read, and this is unusual.“Why do you think I paid in cash?”

And before you can reply, he’s gone.

~~~~~~~~~~

On Thursday, June 19th, Aegon picks you up in his white Chrysler Sebring convertible while the city is still asleep. The sky is dark, the streetlights passing by overhead, infinite pinpoint supernovas. There are hardly any other cars on the road. Aegon’s hair is a mess and his eyes are bleary; he’s sipping a Starbucks coffee with one hand and holding the steering wheel with the other. He is wearing a suit, but he still manages to look unpolished, his white shirt half-untucked and his black tie too skinny. He sets his coffee down in one of the cup holders and passes you something venti-sized and iced.

“I got you a vanilla latte, vanilla girl.”

“Aw, thanks! Skim milk?”

“Nope,” he says, smiling. You smile back and take a gulp of it, cold and sweet and bracing. “What’s your hype song?”

“I can’t tell you,” you say, embarrassed.

“Why not?”

“You’re going to terrorize me.”

“Don’t Stop Believing? Don’t Stop Me Now? I Gotta Feeling?”

“Lose Yourself.”

Aegon throws back his head and cackles, his hair flying in the wind. “That’s definitely a fireable offense. I’m ditching you the second we finish this shoot.” But he taps around on his phone and plugs in the aux, and then Eminem is thudding through the speakers as the Sebring sails north and the red-gold dawn rises on the horizon, a celestial message from the East Coast, an omen from the future.

Aegon drives you to Prospect Studios in Los Feliz, just east of Hollywood. Filming will be indoors on a soundstage. You spend what feels like forever in hair and makeup, and the costume designer—who had prepared for a different actress—dresses and redresses you over and over again, frowning at your chest and waist and thighs, and you have a sudden pang of nauseating panic and dread: I don’t belong here. What the fuck was I thinking?

Then you are in the scenes under intensely radiant artificial light, and just like it did in your roles back in Minnesota, the real world vanishes and all that exists are these characters, these moments, and your body and mind become theirs, and perhaps even your soul too. Your husband is handsome and kind, and here in this liminal fictional space you love him, and when the surgeons wheel him off to the operating room you are full of blind naïve surety. Then the doctors update you on his condition and you are still hopeful, but it becomes a fragile thing, like something that shatters when it’s dropped from a height. And then he is dead, he has been taken away from you, he has been stolen, and you are eclipsed by a blood-red wrath that is animalistic and unforgiving. After each take when you are ripped back through the veil and into reality, you can’t remember exactly what you did or said, and the director doesn’t have many critiques so you aren’t sure how it’s going.

But when it’s over, while you are still standing on the soundstage with the other actors, Aegon puts on his sunglasses and smiles at you from across the room; and you remember what he said outside his office on the day you first met—you are so bright, sunshine—and you know you’ve done a good job.

[beomiracles]

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?” 

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. 

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. 

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?”

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[count-on-mi]

Twice Interactive Story Part 12 Shhh... Hello, stranger (Sana, Mina, Feat. Tzuyu)

You woke up by Mina the next morning, and she obeys you that she did not give you the morning blow job, instead, she just stand next to your bed.

'Morning boss, feeling better today? Minari has prepared the breakfast for you and Miss Jihyo already, but I did not prepare for another guest.'

“Oh, that’s alright Mina. She can have mine; I’ll just pick us up something on the way to work. Thank you, Mina.”

Both Jihyo and Nayeon are too exhausted to wake up for the breakfast, but you still plan to have breakfast outside with Mina.

When you are reading the menu, Mina stops you and points and another side of the table, 'Boss, is that the woman who peeked us before?'

You take a look and find that it is Tzuyu, she is eating the breakfast with a old man, it should be her boss as you remember.

You think about what she said last time, you are not sure what's she planning.

I walk over to the pair, and ask if we could join them.

You bring Mina towards their table and ask could you join them.

'Hey, Y/N, long time no see, take a seat, who is this pretty woman, is that your girlfriend, you are a lucky man huh.' Tzuyu's boss greets you while Tzuyu still pretending to be a shy girl.

"No sir, this is my secretary, and who is this young lady? "

I take a seat "So how has she been doing at her job? I could always use more hands in my department, and I feel like she could know some very use people. I wouldn't want to take her away after all."

'Tzuyu is very useful somehow, a good intern. Do you want to borrow her to your team? Technically it's OK, but how about your borrow your secretary in return, I think it will be fun if she works in my team.' The boss said while looking at Mina with a horny smile.

"While I appreciate you lending me Tzuyu in exchange for Mina, I need Mina by my side she does some of the most important work. So I guess we'll have to leave things as they are."

'Such a shame that I cannot work with you, pretty.' The boss looks at Mina one more time before turning back to you.

'Anything else you want from me? If no, I am going to leave now, right Tzuyu?' The boss grabs Tzuyu's hand on the table.

"No, there's nothing else sir." I'll look at Tzuyu's eyes to gauge how she feels about her boss.

Tzuyu still acting shy and she leaves with her boss.

Mina kisses your cheek, 'Thank your boss. I am really afraid when that guy look at at me like that.'

'I think that girl looks so shy, I don't think she will talk about the gossip about us.' Mina said.

"That’s not how she acts when she's alone, Mina. But just know I wouldn't trade you away Mina. You're too precious to me." I sigh. "We should get something to eat, and head to the office Mina."

You two finished breakfast and then back to the office, as the restaurant is near the office, so you parked the car at the office carpark and walk to restaurant.

Mina is talking about what happened yesterday while you are walking back to the office, as you did not leave your room at all. You can feel Mina's hand keeps touching yours intentionally.

I look up to meet Mina's gaze, "I have to thank you again for yesterday. I really appreciate everything you do for me, Mina."

'Don't say thank you to Minari, boss. Minari would do anything for you. Minari told you many times already.'

Mina looks back at you, cupping your cheek, and want to kiss you, but you are much taller than her, if you don't get down a little bit, she won't be able to kiss you.

I cup her cheek and kiss her instead.

You two exchange saliva passionately until both of you can't breathe, Mina blushes after the kisses, 'Boss, I... I love you, Minari wants to stay by your side forever.'

Mina tries to use her little finger to hook your hands, but she is too shy to completely hold your hands.

I do it for her. "I love you too Minari."

You hold Mina's hand firmly while walking to the office, you see Mina is dropping tears.

'Are you ok, Mina?' You ask while wipe away her tears.

'Boss, Minari is ok. Minari is just so happy now.' Mina smiles at you.

You two meet Sana at downstairs of the office

'OH, that's why Mina didn't allow me to enter your room yesterday?' Sana smirks while walking to you.

'No, Miss Sana, it's... it's not like that, I am just... I am just...' Mina replying to Sana shyly.

"Let me, Mina. Sana, I had a really bad day yesterday that's why Mina didn't let you in."

'OH, boss are you ok today? I think Mina and me can cheer you up if we 3 having some fun in your room.' San caresses your throat to your chest and finally catches your shaft. You swallow your saliva while watching her cleavage.

'You can tear my clothes today if you want.' Sana whispers in your ear, your cock starts to harden due to her massage.

I act professional, "I'm doing better today, Sana. I'll be in office if you need me. Won't I Mina?"

'See you later then, boss.' Sana grabs your bulge again before she leaves.

You then head back to your room and start working, you need to pick up the progress of yesterday. But Sana knocks on the door just after you switch on your computer.

'I'm ready, boss. I will make sure to cheer you up.'

"Sana, I actually need to catch up on yesterday's work. If you help me catch up that would cheer me up, get Mina too. This will be a team effort."

'Come in, Mina. Your boss needs you.' Sana tells Mina to come in and then she starts getting off her clothes and crawling to your desk, start to suck your dick under the table.

'What do you need, boss?' Mina looks innocently as always when she comes in. 'And where is Miss Sana, I heard she calls my name.'

"Sana get out from under there, I said that if you helped me catch up on the missed work you could get something." I turn to face Mina "I need help catching up on the work I missed yesterday could you help me catch up?"

'Boss, Mina will help you do the work while I can take care of your happiness, isn't that great.' Sana sucks you harder, and you moan from the pleasure.

Mina just sit at opposite of you and start working before locking the door.

"Fine" I look over to Mina "I'll make this up to you with special lunch Mina" after that I get to work.

'Just anything you wish, boss. I hope the boss remembers my guaranteed breakfast for these 2 days.' Mina smiles at you and focus back to the work.

Sana's mouth is too good, and you soon stop the work, just simply laying on your chair and enjoying her blowjob. 'Sana, your mouth is so good, I can't focus.' You caress her cheek and praise her hard work.

I start face fucking Sana, realizing I can't let Mina be doing all the work. I hope to be able to orgasm quickly and get back to work.

You grab Sana's hair and start to face fucking her, you fiercely fuck her mouth. Sana is choking from your pace, she keep hitting your thigh, wants you to let go.

'Sana, hold on a bit, I am going to cum.' You fuck Sana's mouth faster hoping to reach your orgasm.

When I cum I hold Sana to the base of my cock until I've finished. When I let go. I immediately get to work.

You pull out from Sana's mouth, and immediately back to work, Sana is breathing heavily as she is recovering. Sana slowly climbed up and rested on your lap, drawing circles on your chest, 'You are so powerful today, boss, I love it.'

Sana then starts caressing your body while she is grinding your semi-hardened cock. You enjoy her movement as she is also giving you some help on the work while she is playing on you.

"That’s what I'm talking about Sana thank you for helping me with actual work." I say as I focus on my work and ignore her actions to the best of my ability.

You three nearly finish the work, while Sana starts teasing you again, she is grinding on your lap, and your cock is hard again from her tease. 'Boss, I am all wet because of you.' Sana whispers in your ear and starts playing with your nipple.

Your moan becomes louder when she keeps teasing your body, Sana giggles and starts to plant hickeys on your neck. 'Come on boss, finish the work then you can fuck me.'

Mina seems unhappy when seeing Sana this close to you, she shows it by using the keyboard loudly and turn around to not look at you.

"You know what Sana, you finish this up. You've had your turn. Mina deserves a break."  I plant Sana down in my seat, and walk over to Mina. I plant a kiss on her head "I'm so sorry for ignoring you Minari, let me make it up to you."

'It's ok, boss. Miss Sana's hard work deserve rewards too, I'm ok.' Mina says.

You hug her and put her on the sofa, slowly removing her clothes while kissing.

'I want to fuck you right now, My dear Mina.'

"Don't you want your special breakfast? I'll give you it and more." I say as I trace her lips with my finger.

'Minari wants the breakfast, Minari wants boss.' Mina breathes heavily due to your tease.

'That's my good girl, Mina, ready for breakfast.' You start to push your shaft to her mouth, ready to give her the breakfast she is waiting for days.

Sana comes and licks your ear, 'Need my help for more fun, boss?'

Mina shouts before she starts to suck you' I don't want to share my breakfast with Miss Sana, you already take one.'

"Get back to work Sana. It's Mina's turn." I them turn back to Mina a little surprised she shouted. "Look at you Mina shouting that you want my cock. Aren't you being bold today?"

'Minari miss the breakfast so much, so I... Sorry Miss Sana.' Mina soon back to her normal state, being shy again and keep sucking your cock.

'Mina ya, didn't I make you feel good too last time, how come you treat me like that?' Sana goes down and play with Mina's clit.

'Sorry, ah, Miss Sana, it's really feels good, but I want to be a little bit selfish today, ah faster.' Mina is excited like last time as she is using by both of you and Sana.

"Don't worry Minari, we'll make sure to make you feel good" i call out as I slowly push my cock to the back of her throat. I moan her name as I slowly thrust in and out if her mouth.

'Ah Mina, your mouth is so warm, yes, here, lick here, ah Mina, that's right.' You keep thrusting into Mina's mouth while guiding her to attack your sensitive spots.

Mina is becoming more hyper as Sana keeps rubbing her clit, she tighten up her throat due to the pleasure, which makes you feel better too.

Suddenly, you feel something warm at your rim, you turn back and see Sana is licking your asshole.

I pull Sana away and force her onto Mina's tits. "It’s Mina's turn Sana, I won't repeat myself again."

'If I make boss feel better, isn't Mina can get more cum for breakfast?' Sana starts playing your nipple while fingering Mina, giving you a body massage with her tits pressing on your back.

You are already near the edge of orgasm, Sana has triggered your critical point, you are ready to cum.

I tell Mina I'm going to cum as I slowly thrust onto her mouth.

'Ah, Mina, I'm cumming, enjoy your breakfast.' You thrust one last time in Mina's mouth, and release all your cum in her throat. Sana stops playing your nipple, she moves on to massage your ball, helping you to cum more for Mina.

'Ah, yes, just like this.' You moan while enjoying the post-orgasm from the milking by both Mina and Sana, holding your dick deep in Mina's throat. The amount of cum in Mina's throat make her start choking, Sana increases the pace of the fingering, which makes Mina instantly cum, she can't breathe, some of your cum even splits from her nose.

"Oh poor Mina," I say while I try to help her clean up.

You grab a tissue and try to clean Mina's face which is covered by cum, while Sana does not stop playing with Mina's pussy. Mina's whole body is still jerking from previous orgasm, but Sana did not slow down her speed, once you finishing cleaning Mina, she cums again, she squirts and cums all over Sana's face.

'Ah, Mina, why are you so dirty.' Sana keep playing Mina's body and seems she is not going to stop.

"Are you enjoying yourself Mina?" I ask while I out her hand on my cock.

Mina is too exhausted to answer you, she just simply nod and her body starts to jerk again, you just smile and guide her to stroke your cock.

'You need to a lot more hard work if you want more breakfast, Mina.' You start to thrust in her hand while caress her face. She is stroking your cock while licking your tip, but the pace is really slow as she is too tired. You are enjoying the slow stroke which you seldom receive, while Mina keep moaning while Sana is edging her.

"Take your time Mina, enjoy yourself. You've worked so hard." I say while i give her forehead a kiss.

Ah, Minari gonna cummmm!' Mina arch her body and squirts on Sana again before she pass out. Mina is already unconscious but her body still shakes unconsciously. Her hand falls down and stop jerking you.

Sana gets up and says,' Seems I bring more fun to your secretary, is it my turn now?' Sana licks Mina's squirt on her face and start jerks you off.

"Fine," I start facefucking Sana again. "You should really learn to follow my instructions, Sana." I hardly let her breath as I continue to chastise her.

You face fucking Sana, and every time you thrust in you reach her deep throat, Sana's saliva is dripping from her mouth as she is hard to breath. She looks at you with a watery eye, make you turned on even more.

Sana signaling she can take more, as she starts to massage your ball and lick your underside You grab her hair and thrust more fiercely, until she give up to resist.

I hold Sana to the base of my cock. "This is what you like Sana? Being used like a fuck toy?" I say to her. Before she can I answer I ram my cock into the back of her throat as I continue to face fuck her.

Sana did not resist again, her hands just holding your thigh, letting you fuck her mouth more easily.

'Oh, my slut, take your reward.' You thrust a few more times before you cum in her mouth. The amount of cum is too much and she can't swallow it all, the cum mixed with her saliva is dripping from her mouth, she holds the dripping cum with her hands and looks at you seductively.

'The most important thing is we all are having fun, right?' She is breathing heavily, want to get all the oxygen she missed when you are face fucking her.

"I guess I should let you rest." I say to her while i start to pull up my pants.

'You sure you are enough of just using our mouth? You haven't put it in today.' Sana is grinding your cock while caressing your neck.

'Come on boss, we can do something naughty, it's so rare that Mina is not here right?' Sana grabs your hands on her tits, 'I know you want me too, boss.'

"Fine" I reply as I try to undo my pants.

'Thank you, boss, let me do it for you.' Sana kisses your cheek and stands up a little, just barely removing your pants. She immediately sits down on your lap again, and starts rubbing your cock with her clit.

'So hot, boss, I can feel it.' Sana slowly increases the pace of rubbing and kissing you with her tongue.

I stand up and bend her over my desk. I’ll rub against her pussy a few times before I ram myself into her asshole.

You tease Sana by rubbing her clit again until she surrenders. 'Please, give me your cock, boss I need it.' 'Here it is, Sana.' You then thrust all in, but in her ass.

'Sir, wrong hole, you enter the wrong hole.' Sana screams when you enter her ass, it is tight but not as Mina's, perhaps she has tried anal before, so she quickly adopts the cock in her ass even you did not stop for her.

Her moan changes from pain to pleasure. 'OH, boss, it feels good, faster please.' Sana moans your name while rubbing her clit.

I make sure to be very rough with Sana, pulling her hair as I impale her with every thrust.

You pull Sana's hair while you are fucking her, forcing her to arc, taking deeper thrusts from you.

' Such a slut, don't you. So desperate for my cum in your pussy huh?' You spank her ass with another free hand. 'Yes, boss, I am a slut that only live for your cum, please cum in my pussy.'

Sana is excited by your humiliation, she fingers herself faster and she reaches her orgasm, squirting all over your lower body. 'Ah, so excited, boss. I love it.'

Her ass becomes tighter and starts to milk you, you stop spanking, instead, you hold her ass cheek to fix her position so you could fuck her easier, chasing your own orgasm.

Sana feels you are going to cum, 'No, boss, cum in my pussy, please, I need it so much. Fill your cum slut, I am forever yours.'

"That’s right you're my cum slut, and you'll take my cum wherever i put it." I tell her as I continue to fuck her ass until I cum in it.

'No, boss, no!' Sana screams as you cum in her ass, she trying to leave but you can grab her ass so tight, she could just lay on the table and feel your cum pumb inside her ass.

'Why, boss... I will feel much better if it's in my pussy.' Sana looks a bit disappointed but still excited from the pleasure that you give her.

You pull out from her ass and hear you hear a pop sound, you raise her ass, prevent the cum leaks out and then get a butt plug from your drawer, 'It's supposed for Mina, but seems you deserve it more, my cum slut.' Sana moans again when you plug in the plug.

"I'll have to get Mina another one" I think to myself. I slap Sana's ass one more time "now get to work Sana."

'Ah, boss I will cherish your cum in my ass and let you check again after work.' Sana struggle to wear her ruined clothes and slowly walks to the door.

Her panties are in your hand again, 'Perhaps I can have a locker to store the panties she gives me every time.' You wonder.

Suddenly you hear Sana screams, 'Why are you here?' You look at the door, Tzuyu is smirking and stands along the door. 'Mr Y/N, I don't expect you are such a horny guy and start playing just in the morning.'

“I have the energy for it. Besides your boss seemed rather happy touching you during breakfast so I wouldn’t be talking.”

'I have told him countless time not to do that, but seems he just can't resists me. May I take a seat?' Tzuyu sits on the sofa before you can answer.

Tzuyu admires Mina's naked body, even twist her nipple, 'Seems the session is so intense. Mr. Y/N, is it your only job duty is to use your subordinate like this?' Tzuyu stops her hand and turns her head to Sana, 'Oh, lady, if you are too tired from the sex, you can take a seat too, come here." Tzuyu pats the seat next to her on the sofa.

"Of course not, Mina and I worked to catch up on all our missed work. Now care to explain what you're doing here? "

'Spending extra time to chase the losing progress as you are too busy to fuck your secretary is a thing that you proud of? Honestly, I'm quite disappointed a top team leader would say something like this.' Tzuyu stands up and ready to leave your room.

'Oh yes, I come to ask why you would want me join your team, Mr. Y/N. Originally I am quite interested, but no more for now, if all of your team members' s duties are having sex with you.'

"Our loss of progress had nothing to do with our having sex. I had a personal problem yesterday. You seem to think you’re better, but if my team is still out doing yours when we have this going on it shows your team is much more lacking. So get out, I don't wouldn't want anyone that disrespectful on my team."

'Even a brainless know that old man can't lead him team properly, but what else can I do as an intern? Well, I guess I can find another team after I get a permanent job easily with my GPA. Who knows the future? I guess I will leave now, take your time, Mr. Y/N, and this lady.'

"Right" i close the door behind her. "Good riddance"

'Boss, what is that intern talking about? Do you know her?' Sana looks at you confusingly. 'I used to thought you like to fuck her too, when you ask me about her last time.'

"She saw us fucking a while ago" I tell Sana.

'Boss, she saw us already when you ask me about her last time?' Sana looks calm,' Is she blackmailing you or what? I don't understand what she is doing.'

"No she's not, but it's better to have control over a situation."

'Boss, maybe we should get her in our team, so we can control it easier. Don't you remember the gossip about you and Mina? Maybe she is the one that spreads it out. I know Mina is really not happy about it.'

"Yeah, we tried that, but he wanted Mina in exchange, and I'm not doing that."

'How about we directly talk to the intern, peacefully, not like what just happen, if she could agree with us, we can handle it easily.'

'Or you can use me to exchange maybe, I guess her boss won't do anything to me.'

"No, he definitely would, Sana, he definitely would. So, we'll have to try the other method."

'Boss, are you caring about me huh? I am not pure as Mina, I can protect myself. Just tell me if you need me for exchange.' Sana sits on your lap again and looking at you.

"Fine but it'll be a last resort. You're still a member of my team and I don't want anything happening to you." I tell Sana "Let's just finish our work for today. Can you clean up Mina and dress her?"

'Sure, boss.' Sana gets some tissue and goes clean Mina who is still sleeping on the sofa. 'Such a nice body, Mina' Sana plays with Mina's tits while cleaning her face.

You start your work again, and you suddenly hear some moan, it's from Mina. You turn around and find that Sana is licking Mina's clit, Mina moans in unconscious, 'Ah, faster...'

"Sana! I said to clean her up and put her clothes on. Stop that."

'Boss, I am cleaning her pussy. What's the problem?' Sana stops her teasing, getting some clothes to cover Mina's body.

'I'll back to work now, call me if you need anything from me.' Sana blows you a kiss before she leaves.

[callmemonster68]

ENHYPEN - Gloss ( fluffy )

Pairing: Enhypen X FemReader (Masterlist)

Genre: Fluffy

Warning: sensual content, kisses, innuendo , a little dirty talk, make out

Sunoo

Sunoo looks at you, his eyes focused on your shiny lips.

Sunoo: "Hmm, what does this taste like?" It looks good.

You lean towards him, teasing with a soft smile before kissing him, your lips meeting with desire and urgency.

Sunoo: when the kiss ends, he smiles with his eyes half-closed "You know, now I'm more than curious to discover all the other flavors."

Heeseung

Heeseung is looking at you with a gentle smile, his eyes focused on your lips.

Heeseung: "What flavor is this gloss?" I need to know.

You approach him, with a seductive smile on your lips, and kiss him softly, but with growing intensity.

Heeseung: when the kiss ends, he smiles with his eyes closed "I think I now have the answer... but I would love to confirm it again."

Sunghoon

Sunghoon looks at you while you apply the gloss, his eyes shining with curiosity.

Sunghoon: "So, what flavor is your gloss?"

You smile provocatively and, instead of speaking, pull Sunghoon into a hot kiss, their bodies aligning as the tension rises.

Sunghoon: with a satisfied smile when the kiss comes to an end "I think I need more of this to discover the true flavor."

Niki

Niki watches you with a burning gaze as you apply gloss to your lips.

Niki: "What flavor is your gloss?" I can't help but ask.

With a mischievous smile, you approach him and kiss him intensely, your lips warm and your bodies close.

Niki: with a look of desire, he whispers, "Now I'm addicted to this taste."

Jungwon

Jungwon is by your side, his eyes fixed on the shine of your gloss.

Jungwon: "What is that on your lip?" What's the flavor?

You respond by kissing him softly, but with increasing intensity, until the kiss becomes more passionate.

Jungwon: when he steps back, he smiles, his breath irregular "You really know how to answer a question."

Jake

Jake, with a curious expression, watches you as you apply your gloss.

Jake: "What flavor is your gloss?" I'm curious.

You laugh seductively and, without hesitation, pull Jake into a passionate kiss, your bodies pressing together, the chemistry instant.

Jake: with a satisfied smile when the kiss ends "Now I know... and I will want more of this."

Jay

You are sitting next to Jay, he is watching your lips with interest, curious.

Jay: with a mischievous smile So, what's the flavor of your gloss?

You approach slowly, your eyes meeting his, and without saying a word, pull him into a soft, warm kiss. He, surprised, responds immediately, his hands on your waist.

Jay: when the kiss breaks apart, he smiles, whispering "I should have asked earlier."

✿ If you don't reblog and comment, you can be sure I'll be showing up in your dreams tonight... and I won’t be as sweet as in the story ✿

[acexsmhking]

Jeff The Killer x Reader

But it's like- Emo Boy from Ayesha Erotica bc you can't tell me -

"Saw this boy at the mall last Week got the kind of look to make me freak that long ass hair with the tightest jeans My Chemical Romance on his tee He looks so sick like he was dying If I said he wasn't hot, then I'd be lying"

"He said I look like Hanna Beth and bitch, I almost lost my breath"

"He bought me tickets to Warped Tour should I go? Well, bitch, for Sure he might not look like he gets bitches But honey, that dick was 11 inches"

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐝

(𝗮𝗱𝗷.) 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗱; 𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗯𝗹𝘆 𝗲𝘅𝗵𝗮𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱

: ̗̀➛ Jeff the Killer x FEM!Reader

Summary: You’re approached by an.. odd looking man in the mall, asking for your number. Who are you to deny someone so intriguing

Warning(s): 18+ content, sexual content, mentions of mutilation, mentions of kidnapping, slight spit-play, slight degradation, displays of manipulation

It was a warm, bright day with the perfect breeze. And what better way to appreciate such a lovely day… then spending it inside a AC blasting, three story giant building with friends spending money? Exactly!! There is no better way. Your click of friends has been running around all noon, spending money on clothes and accessories of the likes. Can’t forget that mediocre court food that always hits the spot just right. You were still sipping on your root beer, looking for a new target to spend money on when you noticed someone approaching from your side-view.

You glanced back half-heartedly, more so to not get in their way than anything. But you saw that look, the universal gaze every man had when they wanted to completely ruin your day with their presence. Your click stopped as the man approached you, shifting somewhat awkwardly with this gleam in his eyes. His skin was pale, with what you assumed to be makeup with further dramatic eyeshadow that made him seem like the perfect emo by default.

Who knows, maybe he was the all-emo-overlord.

“ ‘M sorry, Sweetheart. I was just wondering for a moment of ya time?” He asked, however his tone sounded the least bit sorry. You raised a brow, turning more towards him as your friends waited just a few steps away. “What’s up?” You questioned, arms folded as you gave him a suspicious once over. He was by no means unattractive, tall and seemingly well built. He had a surgical mask over the bottom portion of his face, nothing odd as some people still wore them from the pandemic.

It even had a cute covering over it, matching his attire of blacks and whites. “You’re awfully pretty, I was wonderin’ I could take you out?” His voice was gravely, rough. Almost like gravel, he sounded like an Olympic smoker. You pondered for a minute. It had been a while since you even went out for a nice dinner with a guy, and he again wasn’t unattractive by any means. Even was pretty polite. Something about his eyes… they, warned you almost. Disturbed you. Something else attracted you an awfully lot.

Sighing, you gave in. You exchanged numbers with the man, you noticed how his phone was.. much older than yours. You shrugged, perhaps that was just his style or maybe he struggled. Who were you to judge someone? The man left with a wave, promising to text you later. You turned back to your friends, some of them teasing you bout the ‘hot emo boy’ asking you out.

To say that you were nervous stepping out of car was.. a mild thing to say. Jeffery, as you had learned was his name, had picked you up in an old dinky thing. Surprisingly, the interior of the car was well maintained, clean seats and floors. Of course that earned him extra points in your eyes, a man with a clean car? Who cares how old it was at that point.

Jeff had opened the door for you, like a gentleman. You gave a polite, albeit nervous, smile. You both decided on a small, family owned Vietnamese sandwich shop. Ok ok, you had decided, but they have really good cakes!! The date was actually a lot better than you had anticipated. The food was tasty, restaurant rather empty inside and the conversation was amazing. He was a charmer no doubt.

He was all sorts of funny and sarcastic in the best ways. You both had a few interests and some new ones he taught you about. He was also.. quite the smooth talker. You had a blush on your face the whole time. You hadn’t even realized when he started holding your hand across the table, his skin was rough. Far rougher than you expected, it was almost like.. sandpaper. You made no mention but he still apologized, explaining how he’d been in an accident badly burning him.

Of course, you felt bad for him. He was so sweet and funny, and smelled good. Maybe it was him or the freshly baked baguettes, but you were in-traced. Perhaps that’s why you brought him back home, allowing him to sweet talk you further. Maybe his sweet words are why you were in the position you were now, legs pushed up and spread as he practically made out with your cunt. How his tongue switched between exploring your hole and teasing your clit.

Hands gripping the bedsheets below you, mind fuzzy. He hadn’t let you touch him since he got between your legs, “Be a good girl for me and behave, yeah?” He mumbled, bottom half his face hidden as he manhandled you. Nothing clear in your mind, especially not when he reached a hand down, fingers stretching you open. “God I knew this pussy would be good, wish you could see how fuckin’ needy you are.” He growled, fingers curling just right. An embarrassingly loud moan coming from you, the texture of his skin was doing something to you.

It seemed like hours had passed of him just feasting on you, you could feel that knot in your stomach coming to a pop. But Jeff pulled away, fingers leaving your hole as you whined. Hands moving down to grab him and pull him back. But he just laughed, swatting your hands away. You heard him unbuckle his pants, saw him push them down from your fuzzy, tear filled gaze. His fingers were harsh gripping your jaw, some still wet from stretching you out.

Your heart practically dropped out of your ass as you finally got a good look at his whole face. It seemed like two deep, cuts had been placed on the side of his face. Starting from the corners of his mouth to further back. Sure he’d taken his mask off once he started kissing you, but you didn’t manage to see him before that; he was fast. “Aww, what’s wrong, whore? Don’t think ‘m pretty?” He teased, his tone was dark and threatening. You whined gripping his wrist as his fingers tightened, he squeezed your cheeks a clear sign to open your mouth.

You obeyed, out of fear or horniness you didn’t know. Maybe both. But you listened. You opened your mouth, eyes lidded as you watched him. You felt a hot glob of spit fall on your tongue, a moan leaving from the depths of your chest as you swallowed it. Jeff cackled at you; it sounded hallow and mean. “Nasty lil’ thing..” He mumbled, he released your jaw as he settled back between your legs. Jeff places his cock right on your cunt, slowly moving it against you. At times the tip catching on your clit.

You stared at him, eyes glued to what of his cock you could see. Gods he was long, you were horrified. Never had you taken something that big, never. Jeff snickered at your face, moving your legs onto his shoulders as he leaned down to your face. “What, baby? Scared?” You nodded feverishly, your hands digging their nails into his thighs. He only hummed, moving his hips back as he started pushing into you. At least he had the decency to be gentle for this part.

Jeff sighed, more than satisfied with the grip of your cunt. He gave you what he deemed more than enough time to adjust before he pulled back. Your breath caught in your throat, he was so deep. Too deep. He was bullying himself into you, hitting some spot you didn’t know you had. Hell, you didn’t even know you could take something this deep. Your throat tightened, mouth open not a single sound coming out. Your eyes started tearing all over again, he felt so good. Too fucking good.

Your nails started digging harsher into his thighs, almost like a pathetic attempt to stay grounded and push him away at the same time. Jeff wasn’t silent at all, throwing degrading words at you as he became faster. You were so soft, so wet. And you smelled delicious. One hand tangling with his hair as he leaned down, face in your neck as he started leaving marks. Sloppy and wet but harsh. His teeth unrelenting and mean as they dug into you. It was as if he wanted to rip a chunk out of you.

“Come on, slut. Reach down and rub her fer’me.” He groaned, his hips were brutal and hard. You could feel the undersides of your thighs becoming irritated at his brutal pace. Your fingers wiggled between the both of you, finding your clit and rubbing half-assed, speeding circles on it. You could barely focus on breathing correctly, it felt like he was in your lungs. Especially when he pressed your thighs closer to your head, pushing himself up as he loomed over you. Finally a pathetic whimper escaped your throat.

He did look.. pretty. Hot? Sexy? You didn’t know how to describe how he looked, his eyes looked feral as he watched your fingers. His hair ruffled from you and god his body. Something about all this made his lean body look like the sexiest thing you’d ever seen. Jeff was transfixed by your cunt. Watching how she took him in over and over, your pretty nails adoring your fingers. He almost felt bad, almost. What he wouldn’t do to take a pretty thing like you home..

Jeff gathered another glob of spit, letting it fall right on your cunt. Another deep moan falling from his lips as he watched it blend in with everything. “Oh my god! Fuck, Jeff please!” You had no idea what you were begging him for. Neither did he. But he repositioned his hips, picking back up on his previous pace as he looked you in the eyes. Well.. tried. Your eyes were blurred with tears, drool building at the corner of your mouth. Jeff smirked, was that a smirk. You had no clue as you watched him lean in yet again. Tongue trailing up your cheek as he licked your tears.

“You like this cock, slut?” He snickered, hands grabbing your midriff in a bruising hold. You nodded frantically, hands trying to grab onto whatever they could. “Yes yes! Love it.. is so good, too ‘ood!” You gasped, one hand landing on his chest as the other found the bedsheets. You didn’t even have time to brace as your felt that coil snap, body convulsing as you came. Jeff had tried to hold on a bit longer, but the fluttering of your cunt and those cute noises got him.

You felt his hips jitter a bit before stilling. Hips pressed flush against your thighs as you felt him empty himself in you. Mind dazed and fucked out to care. You panted, few more tears falling from your eyes as you looked at him. Jeff pulled out of you with a grunt, slowly as he watched his cum leak out of you. He caught his breath for a moment. He should kill you, really should. Maybe after round two, or three.

Looking at your chest raise and fall, pussy occasionally squeezing him. Nah.. why not just take you home? You have your use for him.

: ̗̀➛ sorry this took my longer than expected. I was like feeling weirdly unmotivated and motivated. I just changed the formate how I usually write the fics and that seemed to work better, LMAO! So sorry that this looks a bit different from how I usually format stuff. I really really hope you like this! I was trying to figure out how I wanted to do Jeff, but I think it’s alright for a first time. I hope you enjoy and thank you for the request! — Ace

[laurents-laces]

Only 20 days left until TGR! Here's all my rambling that I couldn't fit on a bingo:

Jean just found out about Elodie's death, Jeremy lost his relationship with his sister, and Lucas is about to lose his brother. I think sibling relationships are gonna be really important in this book. I also hope we get to meet Cat's sister Vivi when she drops off the motorcycle for Jean

So excited for exy with the Trojans! I hope they actually take some of Jean's advice because he's really good at seeing people's strengths and weaknesses. And I hope they interact with other teams more than the Foxes do. It would help Jean see that the Trojans are actually pretty normal and the Ravens are the weird ones. He still thinks it's the other way around

Jean thinks of Kevin as Riko's Queen or the Court's Queen a few times in TSC. Does he see that title as a symbol of independence like Kevin does, or does he see it as Kevin still having a place in Riko's perfect court?

I'm obsessed with the way Jeremy narrates events without telling us a single one of his emotions. Does he miss having his little sister in the audience when he plays a big game? Did he have feelings for any of those boys who were "exactly the kind of guy [he] was prone to trip himself up over"? Why hasn't he dated anyone before? He loves USC because it feels private and safe, so does he not feel that way at home?

I need to know what Jeremy's family did to him. He calls his mother the devil and dislikes his last name and gets angry just at the mention of his step grandfather. It's such an extreme reaction from a guy who barely says anything negative about anyone

I feel like Jeremy's family issues are gonna be too weird for anyone to predict. But I think his part of the story is going to be less about redeeming himself from past mistakes and more about letting his friends support him instead of acting like he's fine all the time

I think Jean might really struggle with holding back when they play against more violent teams. Would suck if it costs him a spot on the starting lineup, but maybe it would be good for him to see that there aren't any consequences for failing to be the best

I think Neil and Andrew might be too busy with Aaron's trial to go with Kevin to California but Jean thinks of them too often for them to not be relevant at some point, whether now or in book 3

I think Jean saying he learned the hard way not to look at another man too long has something to do with Kevin and the incident his freshman year. It's really weird that Riko only told Kevin half of the truth of what happened

"You cannot save me from what came before, and you help neither of us by trying to dig up those graves. Leave Evermore to me and Dobson... Help me survive what comes next.” I hope his friends listen to him about this. And I hope he starts actually talking to Betsy. He seems like he wants to, he's just worried it won't actually help

The way Jean describes the people he loves is so intense. We got some really lovely thoughts about Kevin and Renee from him in TSC, and I can't wait to see how he'll be when he gets to know Jeremy better. I don't think they'll be able to beat "you are a pipe dream" but I'd be thrilled to be proven wrong

[knickynoo]

After having officially finished the BTTF Minute podcast, I'd like to share another piece of conversation that I really liked.

It was during the scene where Marty first shows up to '55 Doc's house and chases him out to the garage, where Marty then goes through the whole "I know how you got the bruise on your head" story where he recounts the invention of the flux capacitor. One of the hosts of the show (can't remember which off the top of my head) mentioned that he was surprised Marty could remember all the details of that story he'd only just been told in the parking lot with Doc. Then Nick said something like, "Maybe that's what makes him such a great assistant for Doc. He's got a good memory."

And I just absolutely love that that ended up being their conclusion, because I feel like it's sort of an unconventional trait to assign to Marty? Especially considering the fact he's labeled a slacker by Strickland, and that Marty just generally appears frazzled and confused a lot. It's easy to label him a scatter-brain, make all the "Marty has a single brain cell" jokes and everything. He's a silly guy.

So them just casually agreeing that Marty's got a really good memory, and that it's part of why he works so well with Doc is super interesting! And you know what? I agree with them and think it's a great headcanon. Marty was told the flux capacitor story once at like 1:30 in the morning after just having witnessed a car travel through time. Yet he committed the entire story to memory in the moment, even remembering the name "flux capacitor" which is impressive considering that's a brand new term he'd just been introduced to. And he's able to re-tell the story for Doc in such a panicked moment after being sent to the past and having suffered recent head trauma.

Marty remembers it because he was interested! Totally invested in everything Doc was saying in that moment, so the whole story stuck, nearly word for word. And being in the "Marty has adhd" camp, I think it's very fitting of his character to be seen as a slacker or lazy by others and then have these moments where we see just how bright he is when the environment is right. And I love thinking about how maybe when they first met, Doc understood this right away. That he looked at Marty and went, "Oh, this kid is smart. He just doesn't know it."

[dross-the-fish]

Love Never Dies- Thoughts and Reactions

This might end up being split into multiple parts but I am not finished talking about Love Never Dies. I did give it a rewatch to refresh myself and...oof. This play needs to be taken out back and shot because that is what it did to every single character in it. NO ONE looks good. Not even Christine. Let's start there. Let's talk about what this show does with Christine because we have completely reduced this character to nothing but her voice. What does Erik miss about Christine after ten years of pining? Her voice. He just wants her to sing for him one more time. The only thing he ever really mentions about Christine is her voice. Though I can't really fault him because if we're being serious about Christine's character...

What does she have outside of her voice? Nothing. Somehow LND Christine has even less personality than she did in the OG musical. She is a cardboard angel that other people pine over, try to control, or envy. She has almost no agency. I said before, I suspect that Andrew Lloyd Webber hates women and Christine does not come out of that unscathed. She spends pretty much all of the musical being bullied by Raoul, mothering Gustave, or being threatened by Erik when he and she aren't reminiscing about that one time they banged 10 years ago. Seriously what even the fuck was "Beneath a Moonless Sky?" For a song about how two characters couldn't resist each other neither of them seem particularly filled with desire. Christine is recoiling in horror and disbelief and Erik looks like a 15 year old who thinks sniffing his crush's hair is peak sensuality.

Mmmm....sexy. But whatever. Christine says at the end of the song she woke up to swear her love and was ready to dump Raoul but Erik had skedaddled so she ran back to Raoul. You read that right. Christine was going to pick Erik after they banged it out and he left and that is the only reason Christine is with Raoul. Seriously Andy? You're going to make her regret picking Raoul over Erik when she didn't even actually DO that? Erik made the choice for her?

*internal screaming* Erik, seriously, how are you going to be upset that she's moved on with Raoul if YOU left HER? Do you really think you have the right to coerce her to sing for you one more time when you were the one who broke it off? The hell is wrong with you? Of course when Christine resists he immediately goes to threatening her child.

When I say Erik is the WORST I mean it. He is reprehensible in this.

But this is about Christine. We'll get to Erik later. LND Erik deserves his own post.

There's honestly not much more to write about Christine. She spends a lot of time cowering from or trying to appease Raoul. She worries about her son and her death is honestly so unwarranted. When I say ALW's work has an undercurrent of meanspiritedness I mean shit like this. Christine hasn't really done anything wrong. I guess she cheated on Raoul 10 years ago? But well she was going to leave him and only stayed because her first option bailed on her? She didn't do anything to Meg. She's been living 10 years in an abusive marriage and her crazy ex who kidnapped her came back to threaten her kid and coerce her to sing his music one more time. Then she just...gets shot. She dies. It adds nothing to the story that she dies. It doesn't feel earned or justified in anyway. It just feels miserable for misery's sake. It's almost unceremonious the way they ax her off because it's not even intentional. Meg misfires the gun because Erik fucks up in trying to talk her down. Christine's death isn't even about Christine herself. It's about Meg and Erik. It's such a useless and stupid death to give this character. How old even is she? Supposedly she's around 18-20 in the original musical (we're ignoring the 2004 movie that puts her at 16) and this is 10 years later? She's barely 30 but she ends up a casualty to everyone else's vanity, jealousy, and selfishness. I feel like we're supposed to find it tragic but it doesn't hit. It's a meaningless and undignified end to a character that was given no agency over her own life or her death.

[hawkinsschoolcounselor]

In theory, it being unrequited doesn't require rejection per se. Many fans believe the shot of Will looking on at Mike and El's reunion in the desert wasn't a parallel to Robin/Vickie, but instead Will accepting their relationship and starting the process of moving on.

If Mike and El break up, Will confesses his feelings and Mike says he doesn't feel the same, that's rejection. If Mike and El never break up, Mike finds out about Will's feelings, hugs him and tells him he accepts him (what I personally think will happen), does that technically count as rejection? Will wouldn't be looking to get with Mike if he and El are still together regardless of how Mike feels.

Yes, it still counts. You're forgetting that Will has been feeling very rejected by Mike to begin with going back to season 3. Every time he thinks things are getting better, Mike's relationship with El gets in the way. They've set up this entire story to show that Will has been feeling his place in Mike's life has been slowly taken over by El. The fact that he's swallowed his pain and moved aside doesn't change the fact that he feels rejected. It doesn't need to be said because it's already what Will thinks is the truth.

I'll repeat that. It doesn't need to be said because it's already what Will thinks is the truth.

Much like the parallel with Robin and Vickie in the weapon shop, Will is positioned as being in between the "established couple." It's simply meant to be a visual indicator that there is a love triangle happening. The context of the two scenes are very different because Will isn't even thinking about Mike there like Robin is thinking about Vickie. He's focused on them having saved El. It's Mike who spots him and has a visible change in mood.

The only reason to drag this storyline out any further than it already has would be to show Will that he's incorrect in his judgment. Otherwise, it really would just be a case of Will's love "fixing" Mike an El's relationship, or, at least, putting it on life support long enough for them to fix it themselves. Meanwhile, Will's story is learning how to move on past his first love (while watching two heterosexual "first love" relationships succeed) and/or being matched up with someone in a relationship that doesn't have any time for development. The only reason he and Mike would be a good final season love story is because it wouldn't have come from nowhere. It would already have a lot of development.

Mike "accepting" Will and letting him down gently wouldn't be a conclusion. Will already had a hinted "acceptance" moment with Jonathan. He has acceptance already. It wouldn't be any sort of surprise to see Mike accept him. What he needs now is love. And I don't mean familial or platonic love. I'm 99% sure he knows he has that already. He needs romantic love. He needs to know he can be the center of someone's world, someone who gets him and treasures him. Someone to spend the rest of his life with. You know, the thing he already feels he can't have.

[hungermakesmonsters]

Stolen Moments was sooooo damn goood. I came to shyly ask if there's a chance you could write a little piece about how and if they meet after returning to the US? 🥺

Of course I can!! Honestly, I might eventually have to turn this into a proper thing (maybe a mini-series??) because I really love this dynamic. Though I do feel like this little piece falls into the porn with the slightest hint of plot category 😅😅 (sorry not sorry?) but after a month or so without Billy, you can't exactly blame reader. 😅

Perfect Moments

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Fic Universe : follow on to Stolen Moments

Story Rating : M 

Warnings : [This is 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour.  

It was strange being home again.

It felt familiar but, at the same time, different. Like something was missing but you couldn't rightly say what. You felt like you were drifting, like you weren't quite real, like you hadn't come home at all.

So, when you returned back to the States to find a message waiting for you from a certain Lieutenant, asking you to meet him for a drink, you spent a few weeks deliberating.

You'd joked with him, told him you had no interest in some jarhead out in the real world but, honestly, you'd been scared. You hadn't wanted to build up some romantic idea of Billy Russo in your head, and you hadn't wanted to let yourself believe that there could ever be something real between you. It was easier to pretend it was just sex, that he had been horny and sick of looking to his own hand for gratification.

But the moment you saw him waiting at the bar for you, there was no denying or ignoring the fluttering of butterflies in your stomach.

He got off his stool to greet you with the sort of awkward hug that gave nothing away.

"Lieutenant," you said as the hug broke, taking a step back to look at him.

He looked better than he had the last time you'd seen him over six weeks ago (in your office on base in Kandahar, fucking you senseless on your desk), being home had brought some colour to his cheeks and he didn't look quite so haunted.

"Not anymore," Billy answered, returning to his seat. "I got out."

"Huh, always figured you as a lifer," you said, taking the seat beside him.

Over the first couple of drinks, you caught up, listening to him explain how he was starting his own business, and telling him about how you were going back to school to train to be a paramedic.

It was a strange conversation, the words felt like they didn't mean much, but the way he looked at you... it was like he was undressing you with his eyes and replaying every time that he'd fucked you.

By the fourth drink, the tension was starting to become palpable.

"So, did you reach a decision?" He asked, suddenly, cryptically.

"About what?"

"About whether you want to waste your time on a jarhead like me now you're home."

"What do you think I'm doing right now?" You answered playfully.

His eyes travelled down your body. "I think you're sitting there in that little dress waiting for me to take you home and give you what you've been missing."

"And what exactly do you think I've been missing?"

"Me," he said, daring to lean a little closer to you, close enough to kiss. He placed a hand on your bare thigh, fingertips just below the hem of your dress. "I bet you're already getting wet just thinking about how good I can make you feel."

He wasn't wrong, and it took all your restraint not to squirm and give away how right he was. Before you could think of some clever answer, his lips claimed yours, his tongue meeting yours in that familiar way that made your toes curl.

The kiss didn't last long, just long enough for Billy to prove his point, and when he pulled back, he knew you were on the hook.

His hand moved from your thigh to your and he stood, not saying a word. You got up and let him lead you from the bar, out into the cold New York air. But it wasn't long until his hands and lips were on your again.

He led you to his car at the back of the parking lot, muttering promises between kisses that it wasn't far to his place, but it was already clear to you that he wouldn't make it that far.

Soon enough, you found yourself pressed back against his car, his body against yours, his hands reacquainting themselves with every dip and curve that he could get to over your dress. Your own hands quickly moved from gripping his shirt to pulling at his belt.

It was stupid, it was dangerous — but when wasn't it when it came to Billy?

The moment the button was popped and his zipper was down, you sank your hand into his underwear and gripped his cock, grinning against his lips at the sound he made.

Your sudden escalation had him following suit and, mere seconds later, his fingers were slipping between your thighs to touch you though your wet panties.

"Fuck, Doc, you're —"

You bit his lip, cutting him off. This wasn't the time to be playful. You needed him too much. And Billy got the message, loud and clear.

His fingers dipped beneath your panties, stirring between your folds, spreading your arousal up to your clit. You were so lost in his fingers, in the kiss, in him, that you didn't notice his other hand awkwardly pulling open the car door until he moved you.

Your feet shuffled as he took a step to the side, then you found yourself turned, pulled back against his chest. Billy didn't give you time to ask what he was doing before pushing you forward, bending you over the back seat of his car.

Fuck.

Glancing over your shoulder, you caught a near-feral look on his eyes and it made you want him more than you ever had before. You didn't care that you were in some dingy parking lot behind a bar, didn't care than anyone might stumble upon you both. You wanted Billy. You needed him.

You braced yourself on your elbows as he pushed up your dress and pulled your panties to the side. He hesitated only for a moment, listening to the stifled moan that escaped you as he dragged the tip of his cock through your folds.

But he didn't waste time, gripping your hip to hold you in place as he slid home. And that's what it felt like to have him inside of you again, it felt like home, like somewhere you both belonged.

Your face pressed against the soft leather seats as Billy started to move, giving you both what you'd been missing. You'd told yourself that it had been a silly fling, something to keep you sane when you were on deployment, but you could see now just how wrong you were.

And, from the way he was already groaning, you could tell Billy felt exactly the same way.

Every thrust of his hips sent a jolt through your whole body, reminding you that he was the only one who'd ever made you feel like this — he was the only one who could make you feel like this. No one else had ever made you feel like the world was ending, like you'd expire if you couldn't have just one second more.

Your thighs knocked awkwardly against the side of the seat and your legs trembled, barely able to hold your weight. It wasn't long until your arms gave beneath you and you all but collapsed over the back seat of his car, at his mercy and so incredibly glad of it.

It could have been seconds, minutes, hours — it didn't matter. The only thing you cared about were the sparks of pleasure he drew from you each and every time he buried his cock deep inside you.

And, with each slam of his hips, each moment of feeling gloriously full of him, you felt a familiar tension start to coil inside of you.

It had been so long, nothing had made you feel that way since him; not your fingers or even the vibrator that you'd relied upon for so many years before him.

Billy Russo had broken you. He'd ruined you.

Now, he was the only thing that could sate your longing.

"Lieutenant — Russo — Billy —" you gasped and moaned mindlessly before succumbing to the pressure.

You pressed your face against the soft leather to muffle your cries of ecstasy as you came undone, your body a trembling wreck beneath him. And, as you shuddered, you barely noticed him withdrawing, pulling out of your trembling pussy. You didn't notice much of anything until you were clumsily flipped over and pushed further into the car.

Then Billy was on top of you, his cock filling your still spasming pussy with ease.

Desperately, you tried to spread your legs, wanting him closer, deeper. Your hands clawed at his back through his sweater, pulling his body against yours as he continued to fuck you. At some point one of your legs ended up draped over the back of the seat, leaving you in the most debauched position you'd ever found yourself in. But you didn't care.

"Billy —"

Your hand slipped up his back to grip his hair, pulling him down and into an eager kiss, moaning as his tongue found yours again. He kissed you like a man possessed, like he was trying to dominate you from both ends, like he'd never have enough.

(He wouldn't and neither would you.)

And, again, you felt that coiling deep down inside you.

"Please, please, please," you whined against his lips, not sure what you were begging for. (More. Everything.)

He kept going, kept fucking you like he was the only man in the world who knew how. A sharp gasp spilled from you as he pushed your leg back and angled his hips to hit just the right spot inside of you. Then he hit it again, and by the third time, you were a goner.

This time as you started to come, you felt Billy let go, his thrusts turning awkward and clumsy and he groaned your name. He buried his face against your neck as his cock twitched and spilled inside you, hips giving gentle stilted movements as he emptied himself.

Then came the stillness, the quiet that was only filled by panted breaths.

Your fingers were still twisted in his hair, holding tight, and you had no intention of ever letting him go.

Minutes passed and he stayed inside you, his cock softening while his breathing slowed and levelled out.

You'd never had this before, you'd never been allowed to bask in the afterglow with him without fear of being discovered — admittedly, that fear was still present, but being caught fucking on a military base had worse punishments than the simple embarrassment of some random civilian finding you.

Billy didn't say anything, nor did he move.

"So much for taking your time with me," you said softly, hoping to break the strange tension that had descended.

He lifted his head and looked at you, managing a smile. "The night's young, Doc, and I'm just getting started."

"Good, 'cause I'm gonna need you to do that again," you said, letting out a laugh.

"You keep talking to me like that and I think I might fall in love with you."

[kitsunexgari]

Summary: Byung-hun comes in for a photoshoot where you are working as an assistant. The head photographer is running pretty late and asks you to keep him busy. You soon find out he can't keep his hands off of you. Tags: Public Sex, Fantasy, Mild Exhibitionism, Light Dominance, Some Dirty talk Disclaimer: This is not meant to depict real people, places, or events. Story contains adult themes and all participants in these activities are of legal adult ages. Story content is not suitable for minors. Read with caution.

You have not been an assistant for long but even so, the job is very tiring. Rewarding but tiring. Initially, you thought that maybe you would be more involved with the process of taking photos. Actually taking them. Instead, you work for a pretty nightmarish and controlling witch who has to have everything just right in order to shoot a set of photos. Still, she is one of the best in the business. Clients of all walks of life, including celebrities, are constantly coming through the studio. You know that you can make some important contacts here and learn more skills to build a great reputation of your own. You learn to work with it because you know it will work better for you in the long run. 

One day she is running late. She calls you to tell you that you are going to have to take care of her next client for an hour or so because there is heavy traffic on the way back from her location shoot which she didn't take you on. You don't get to go on many of those because she always wants someone in the studio just in case. It's not too bad as it gives you time to practice your own work and take care of other things that need to get done. You assure her that the client will be well handled and there is nothing to worry about. You have done this many times before, after all. Just as you are hanging up, he walks into the studio and looks right at you. 

You hadn't had time to check the books to see the name of the client coming in and you didn't expect it to be him of all people. Someone that you have spent more hours fantasizing about than you ever want to admit. Byung-Hun. You already feel a blush rise up on your cheeks as he approaches your desk. 

"Good afternoon, sir." You say softly, unable to look directly at him. 

"I'm here to see Anastasia." 

"Yes, she's running a bit late. There was an accident and some traffic but I can take care of you until then. If you don't mind waiting." You tell him quickly, "Can I get you a drink?" 

"Sure, I have some time," He says going to take a seat on the couch, "Just a bottle of water or whatever is easiest." You nod and walk across the room to grab one of the bottles chilling in the fridge then come back to him and hold it out slowly. He takes it from you with a very charming smile and you hurry back to your desk trying your hardest not to stare at him. You sit behind your computer and try to look busy but you are worried about him getting bored with waiting. Anastasia doesn't like angry clients. She says that gives them a bad aura when she's trying to shoot. 

"I am sorry about this, it's not typical for her." You try to assure him. 

"It's fine, really, not in a hurry today." He says and glances at the TV that is on the wall in the waiting area. 

"The remote is, over there." You tell him and motion to where it is sitting on the table by the couch where he is. "At least it will give you something to do, right?" 

"Thanks." He says and picks it up. Since you don't have any clue what to actually talk to him about and fear you may say something very stupid if you have to keep talking to him, you attempt to focus on other work you have to do. Forms you need to fill out and clients that you have to email. 

You can't focus. Not only is he right there on the couch in front of you, you can smell him. It's intoxicating. You find yourself staring in his direction periodically before forcing yourself to look away. That is until the moment he catches you doing it. You panic and quickly look back down at your keyboard but he gets up and walks over to the desk, placing his hands on it, tapping his fingers lightly over the top of the wood. 

"I know that look," he says. 

"What look? I was just checking to make sure you were comfortable, sir." You say, unable to look at him once more. 

"Come on," He says, "You think I don't get that look a thousand times a day? I know what it means...I just usually don't get it from girls as cute as you." You are surprised to hear that and look up at him in shock. He thinks you're cute? Why is his voice so low and sensual? You lick your lips as suddenly your mouth has gone dry even if other places have become much wetter. 

"Cute?" You manage to choke out. 

"Oh yeah," He says and leans in to stroke your cheek, running a thumb over your lips softly, "Why keep fantasizing about it when you have the real thing right here in front of you?" All you are able to do is let out a soft squeak because you can't believe this is really happening. Can it be? You have to be dreaming again. That or the stress of this job has caused you to go completely insane but, does that matter right now? You aren't sure that you care. 

"You're serious?" You ask him. 

"Very serious, been awhile for me too...get so busy and lonely. This life isn't all it's cracked up to be and didn't you say she's running late?" He asks. 

"Yes but," 

"Shhh," He presses a finger over your lips gently and you go silent. You have no desire to contradict him and you are supposed to take care of as well as entertain the clients right? It would be bad for business if they got bored and left. "Stand up, come on." You nod stupidly and get to your feet. He looks you over before stepping around the desk and pulling you towards him. With a hungry glint in his eyes he captures your mouth in a kiss. His lips are much more soft and perfect than you could have ever dreamed of. 

When he pulls back you just stand there, staring at him breathlessly. He quickly shoves a few things off of your desk, grabs you by the hips and bends you over it. His hands run over your back to your skirt which he shoves up over your ass, gives it a nice firm slap with his hand causing you to yelp. His hand moves over the back of your thighs and between your legs. You mewl softly, when you feel his fingers on the crotch of your already soaked panties as he starts to tease you with those perfect fingers. 

"You really do want this, don't you?" He leans down to purr in your ear. 

"More than anything..." You gasp. He chuckles softly and slides your panties down, pressing your head to the desk as he unzips his pants. You can hear it but can't quite see what he's doing. Not that it matters, you wouldn't even care if you were blind folded. He moves in closer, you can feel him teasing your opening with his cock, which only gets you to moan, then whine, before he thrusts in. Firmly yet some how still very gentle. You groan and close your eyes as he starts to to move. Each time he thrusts he gets in a bit deeper. One hand holds your hair tightly, the other grasps your hip, enough that you are sure his fingers will leave bruises on your skin but you welcome that more than anything. 

"Like this?" He purrs breathlessly as he moves. He's good at this, far more than you could have dreamed up yourself. Even your own fantasies aren't this good. You close your eyes and moan again. 

"Yes...harder....please?" You beg. He starts to speed up, seemingly hitting every right place inside of you. Pleasuring nerves you weren't even sure you had. You hear him moan and a shiver runs through you, he starts to work his hips faster. You rock back towards him as the intensity rises. The heat inside of you, the sound of flesh against flesh filling the waiting room as he fucks you nice and hard. 

"Are you close? Huh? Going to cum all over my cock like a good girl?" He breathes. 

"Y-Yes...fuck...please let me cum!" You cry, wanting nothing more than that. He starts to pound into you at a feverish pace until you hit your climax and cry out. Your cunt clenching around his cock as you hear him groan loudly, one last time, as he cums too. His motions erratic, kind of jerky, he all but collapses on you, breathing down your neck as he licks and kisses at the skin there for a moment before pulling back. You feel him slip out of you and whine. You know you're going to miss that and it will be hard for anyone to top ever again. 

By the time you recover so you can grab your panties and make yourself decent again, he's already headed back to the couch. A grin on his face as he sits down and grabs his water bottle. You look at him bashfully as he takes a sip. Then you clear your throat, knowing that you are going to have to excuse yourself to get cleaned up. 

"I uh...should get cleaned up." You tell him sheepishly. 

"Alright," He says, "But don't stray too far, might have to go for round two if Anastasia keeps me waiting any longer." 

[imaginespazzi]

Ok I am reading linear GH instead of working and this anon is honestly unreal - I love that they put the parts too with the dates! I am just jotting a few things that really stuck out to me and showcase your fucking GENIUS. The way you carried the themes of timing, trust, soulmates throughout everything is amazing, and its honestly fucking bananas that you were churning out a chapter a week at the beginning of this.

September 2017 (Part 3) - Facetiming

"Because as long as it’s Azzi on the other side, Paige and her impatient self can wait however long it takes."

"The younger girl makes Paige feel like it’s okay if she takes a moment to just breathe. Because Azzi will wait. Because Azzi won’t leave Paige behind."

July 2018 - I don't have a lot to note about this one but its very cute and innocent that you made Belarus be their first kiss considering they were already… well

October 2022 (Part 10) - Paige birthday surprise

a straight male flight attendant is a wild choice Nivi

"That smile, Azzi thinks, might just be the reason her world keeps turning." -> ok you use this later on when Azzi is watching Paige carry Stephie into curry camp. I can't

April 2025 (Part 14) - ARMAGEDDON

oh wow I feel like having the failed proposal so early on is going to really impact how the rest of the story feels

May 2025 (Part 11) - First Wings Game

oh my god reading the proposal then Paige's breakdown after her first Wings game is too much honestly

"Paige finds herself longing for the cold, unfeeling exterior of a foreign hotel room." -> wow you use this again when talking about how Paige prefers the hotel room when ASW is in Dallas. Comparing that to how instantly at home she feels with Azzi and Stephie in Oakland makes me wanna combust.

August 2025 (Part 8) - ASW Slow Dance

Reading them drunk slow dancing outside behind the club so soon after the proposal is truly heartbreaking and I shed a tear (or 10)

April 2027 (Part 12) - Dallas Surprise

ok seeing the gap between August 2025 and Azzi seeing Polivia when she goes to Dallas… I am kind of wondering if anything happened in the 1.5 year gap in-between… besides Olivia sinking her acrylics into Paige

May 2027 (Part 12) - PREG

I picture Tristan looking like Tyler from this past season of love is blind - good looking light skinned guy with a breeding fetish (not a parenting desire thought lol)

It will never not amaze/impress me how you managed to make Stephie exist because of Paige in two different ways

December 2027 (Part 5) - Polivia Matrimony

reading the pre-wedding phone call HITS SO MUCH HARDER with all the context. Dear god.

Drew really doesn't hold back when he dislikes the person his sister is romantically involved with eh?

"hey there little bean. I’m your-” she stops because what is she, “I’m your Paige,” -> MOMMY

August 2028 (Part 7) - LA olympics

I love that we go from the wedding to this relationship being in absolutely shambles

I've said it before I'll say it again, Olivia is so valid for fucking hating Azzi

April 2029 (Part 8) - Paige Drunk Phonecall

Wow Clem must think Paige is an absolute barbarian based off that phone call

September 2029 (Part 2) - Paige Stephie meet

This one hit really hard too when read in context. Paige has for sure seen pics of Stephie on Instagram or on the sidelines at games and thought about Azzi being a mother, actually holding that little bean would be so emotional.

April 2030 (Part 9) - HUMPIN

Reaaaallly didn't take much for them to get back into bed

August 2031 (Part 13) - ASW Hoodie Autograph

This is another gap that sticks out to me when put in context. Like they had sex and then nothing for 1.5 years when they briefly cross paths again. Obviously Azzi was busy with a toddler but without even Olivia to distract her I can imagine Paige just being so depressed wallowing in Dallas.

August 2032 (Part 13) - LAST TIME

Again seeing this in sequence stood out to me as they had sex SIX MONTHS before the story technically 'starts'… and of course have an argument/encounter that is pretty intense. I have to admit I thought it was a bit out of place how ANGRY they were in chapter one and how much they didn't want to encounter each other let alone be on the same team, especially given the fact that they had slept together a few times and had non-angry interactions. The balcony scene here really puts things in perspective. All they want is each other, but they are so damn stupid lol

February 2033 (Part 2) - Paige signs contract/ice cream date

Ok it is actually so funny that when we first got this chapter and Paige saying "“She was the most beautiful girl in the world,” “she still is.” seemed like a really bold move of Paige… in context they fucked 6 months ago its not bold at all

March 2033 (Part 5) - "It wasn't over, it still isn't over" notebook scene in Steph's office

Alright this is getting really long but I will echo what other people have said… they got together SO QUICKLY. Wild considering I remember when getting the weekly updates being so impatient for them to get together but they are making out/'taking it slow' like … 3 days after P moves to Oakland

ANYWHOOOO You are the best and I can't wait for the rest of the story ❤️❤️ 🦫🦫

Thank you my love, that means a lot to me. To be fair, those first few chapters were relatively shorter than the ones I've put out more recently and honestly, the story was still relatively simpler back then.

LMFAO I wasn't even thinking about male attendant stereotypes while writing that ngl

I want to pretend that some of these repeated lines were intentional artistic genius, but I have to admit that it is at least partially just me running out of things to say lmao.

I lowkey forget the drunk slow dancing scene exists but yeah that was for sure an insane moment of them

Polivia sounds like polio which sounds like a disease which makes sense...

But I don't think much happen in those one and half years, especially because they barely see each other the first half of it, since Azzi's not in the W yet and then their first year with both of them in the W is just very awkward, but every time they see each other other, Azzi especially, they miss each other.

Drew did everything in his power to stop that wedding lol

Olivia is valid in every single feeling she feels to be honest like that girl suffered for absolutely no mistake of her own

All they needed to fuck was a little bit of liquor and both of them single lol

Paige was either sulking and celibate of fucking every woman with a pulse that year but it's up to interpretation for y'all what happened the year after the divorce

Ahh I'm so glad you mentioned this because really I think a lot of how they behave only really starts to make sense after you've gotten all of the events and Linear anon putting the events in order makes it all make more sense. They're angry at each other because the argument is fresh and it's also easy for them to fall back into each other, because if we're being real, they already had relapsed a couple of time.

LMFAO yeah it took them literally a second which wasn't my original plan. I was gonna have a lot more back and forth but I also felt like they were in a place, where sort of going too fast just happened naturally and added to the conflict later on.

[spiders-hth-is-an-outlier]

So after owning a copy for literally years, I finally sat down and read Song of Achilles, and -- it's good, I did like it, and I think especially the last hundred pages or so got really good, but I think it was probably a little over-sold to me. Like I couldn't even tell you how many times I saw people swear I was going to find it a Life Changing Experience, when in reality it's just a pretty well-written gay novel. If it hadn't been quite so hyped up I might have been pleasantly surprised, but at some point the hype can only fail you, you know?

But it's a good read, and I will say that I hardly ever find the end of a book to be its strongest section (endings are hard), so I was impressed by what I thought were two knockout scenes right at the end (the very end with Thetis at the grave obviously, but I also thought the Odysseus and Pyrrhus scene before that was really memorable).

And it has sparked some thinking for me about why it *was* such a Life Changing Read for a lot of people, and there can't be one singular answer to that, but I'm going to pretend like I have one anyway. I think it speaks to a real hunger for queer stories that are -- middlebrow? Maybe is the term I'm looking for? Stories that aren't the endless churn of BookTok-friendly genre novels (fantasy or romcom) by authors who have a branding strategy, but also aren't literary fiction, or at least aren't stylistically pretentious literary fiction. Song of Achilles is just artsy enough to be *pleasurable* to read, artsy enough to care very much about its use of language, and it's deeply romantic without the rigid beats and structure of a *romance novel.* It's a story about queer lives and what it means to be so defined by your all-encompassing love that it bends your fate, making you not fully greater or lesser, but more intensely yourself. I think, based on the books I see recommended most often, that's actually still a lane with a lot of space in it, and I think that made Song of Achilles feel fresh and alive to people whose experience of queer love stories are largely trope-heavy genre novels with fairly rigid structural expectations.

[therese-lokidottir]

Having all that time is important to let the characters be to show their development and really showing the audience who these characters are.

Avatar the Last Airbender has the time to let the characters sit back and relax, and with that, the plots have the time to take deeper looks into their characters. Something that is so important to ATLA is that the main characters are children. They may have had the weight of the world placed on their shoulders and been forced to act grown-up, but they are still children, and they have the emotional responses that someone that age is going to have. Having the time to show the characters learn and grow, and seeing them being able to step up to the role rather than the plot just forcing them to do the thing the plot needs them to do.

There is time given to not just the worldbuilding but to humanizing the nations. It shows just regular people living their lives and how the war has affected them. It's just revealed that some parts of the earth kingdom living peacefully, and some are under threat or occupation. Because it gives likable characters the audiences can sympathize with the audiences can gather why war is bad. Even shows how the Fire Nation is not made up of purely bad people, they are just people who have been propagandized and like the other two nations there are good and bad people.

The Beach is such an impotent episode for showing the fire nation's kids emotional stats and developing what will lead to Zuko's eventual turn. But the only reason an episode like that can happen is because there is time for it to happen. There is enough room for there to be an episode where the characters go to the beach, can't have in the netflix show.

While it's divisive whether the netflix Atla is good or bad, basically all the criticisms derive from the story needing to be compressed. Removing or changing aspects from characters, dropping characters entirely and constant exposition in every episode. It does sound like for a lot of people it was enjoyable, but it always sounds like the changes that upset people are always because they needed to make the plot go quicker.

Instead of designated filler episodes we now have kind a filler ... everything Everything is full od padding that somehow manages to do nothing to help us get to know the characters

Now that everything has to be exposition and priority of the characters have to be pushing the plot forward it now feels like a waste of time when there are moments where characters are just talking, because nothing feels like it's being accomplished.

Now with these writers and how proud they are of themselves and don't expect anything truly good from them even if they were given more, but there is a thing in the first season I feel like it need time to actually work.

Mobius calling Loki a "crappy friend" and acting betrayed comes off as jarring if you watch the show as a whole. Because at what point was a friendship supposed to happen? Loki showed no enthusiasm being in the TVA and voiced open skepticism with their legitimacy, and in-turn Loki is given no respect and is treated as thoroughly untrustworthy. Was Pompeii it, was that supposed to be the friendship moment? Loki was trying to prove his theory and had no plans to hurt Mobius, they are best friends now.

Again, with these writers who think they're genuinely writing Mobius as nice, even though everything he says is incredible backhanded, I don't think more time would have improved things. But it does feel like something that needed more time. As I mentioned in the tags Grant Ward from AoS, he spends so much time protecting them, talking and snarking, training Sky and not knowing how the hologram display works with Coulson you don't expect he's going to be evil,

Back when more shows were longer and there were episodes that were about spending time with the characters and not some over arching plot. Just having some fun

I miss filler episodes, filler is important even when it doesn't service "The Plot" because it helps the audience become attached to the characters and settings. Like, it establishes a vibe and when you have that is actually makes the twists and turns feel impactful.