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slytherbun · 3 years ago

Text

confession

pairing: jay halstead x reader

summary: you find yourself in some trouble while clearing a location with your partner jay.

word count: 2.8k

tags: @specialagentsoftie @fighterkimburgess @everythingaddictxx

note: different kind of pd fic then i'm used to but hope y'all like it! ☺

"we're eight minutes out. don't go in yet." voight said into the mic but you and jay had already entered a second too late.

jay's been your partner for almost a year now. the one he had before you was a blonde named hailey that took a position from the fbi.

when you first met him it was about a month after the previous detective left and you could tell he was obviously still in denial. you gave him space and only input your opinion about cases you worked on with intelligence.

it took about three weeks until he actually said anything besides the occasional comment. and he knew deep down that you weren't trying to replace her. but since you were together a lot during the week—jay couldn't help but make his own conclusion about you.

he started to open up more when he looked past the stubbornness after concluding that you were a decent person. for a moment there, you could have sworn he was having an out of body experience with how nice he started treating you.

jay started to invite you out to drinks on a periodic basis. he wanted to explore the possibilities of having you as his permanent partner. one night after a couple of drinks, jay was in a good mood and showed you a picture of his old partner.

the two of them were standing in front of their new work truck with bright smiles on their faces. he talked about her a lot after that night as a way of meeting you half-way. and by the end of that month—it was as if you physically knew her and who she was as a person.

the both of you hit it off pretty well and became friends. even as far as, having drinks every tuesday and thursday after work at molly's—the firefighter owned bar.

jay mumbled a curse at the order voight gave but it was already too late. "get behind me." he spoke in a hushed whisper. not wanting to argue in that particular moment you did as told.

detective halstead had his gun raised and in a firm grip around his fingers before stepping further into the house. you followed his position and warily stepped more into the creaky house.

luckily the both of you had vests already on and around your chests. the material easily gave you a visual view of his arm muscles around the freckles splayed across his biceps.

right away you spotted the cans of spray paint sitting on the concrete living room floors. crude words were traced along the four walls and you couldn't help but scrunch your nose at the horrid smell.

it only had you raising your pistol higher.

while you glanced around to survey the room closely, you couldn't help but notice the gang symbols that you were familiar with. due to the cpd database you knew at least three different affiliations drawn over the wood boarded windows.

the overused drug house looked like something out of a horror movie.

"clear." he grunted between paced cautious breaths and you continued to walk behind his careful steps around the garbage to venture into the main hallway of the house.

jay stopped at the entryway and you turned back around to double check the area once again while he scanned the front view where you and he needed to go.

both sides of the hallway were clear but he made sure his gun was raised and followed every inch of the hallway space that he inspected.

you felt a tap on your waist and turned back around to see jay was still facing forward. he probably hadn't noticed the spot he touched of your body but it still sent shivers down your spine with the intimacy of it.

but you pushed away the anxiousness to check and see what was bothering jay. the only thought you should be having right now is how to get out of the dangerous position.

the hallway was full of open and vulnerable space. a clear point of range that could be taken advantage of to take either you or jay out at any time.

jay was concerned for you. he couldn't help the anxious feeling that he had in the pit of his stomach. the unknowingness ahead in the crack house irked him greatly that he couldn’t predict what was about to happen.

the walls of the hallway smelled highly metallic and if that hadn't given it away, the walls were filled with fresh blood splatter. you gulped at the sight of the bright red handprints going down the length of the hall and glanced at jay from the corner of your eye with an eyebrow raised.

he sighed and nodded his head while pointing his gun to the left to signal the continuance of moving on. you bit the bottom of your lip and tipped your head to let him know you were ready to go.

turning your body in a three hundred sixty angle, you watched his back and felt the hairs on the back of your neck lift up in a static gesture. you could also feel goosebumps all over your arms and you just wanted to hurry up and get out of there.

it was truly the most awful scene you've ever been to. with everything you had—you kept yourself together and calm. your lips were in a straight line the whole time.

you should have known with the uneasy feeling that things were going wrong within a split second. and you were right because after jay turned just slightly he felt a gun being pressed against his forehead.

“put your guns down or else i’m going to blow his head off.” an angered voice said into the echoey hall.

not believing what was happening, you turned your body to survey the area and another man came into your view and held his gun higher. “‘tsk tsk’ miss. hand me that gun or else we’re going to have problems.” jay sighed from behind you and you rolled your eyes.

“i’m not putting down shit until you tell me your demands.” you said maybe a little too cockily but it was protocol.

voight had told the team plenty of times to stall and not give up your gun at first. in hopes that the other’s would show up and it would become a better outcome if you just continued talking to the person who was a threat.

a third one appeared and now you were officially outnumbered but you were still hoping they were dumber than they looked. the one that was pressing a firearm to your partner’s temple spit out, “listen lady. you either put your weapon down or else his brain matter will be just another body that was paved across the walls of this house.”

you tried to calculate in your head quickly if you should take the risk of surrendering. voight said they were eight minutes out. and if you’ve been in the house for almost four minutes now.

that was half the time left until they were going to show but then those few precious minutes would be enough time for literally anything.

sometimes you hated being a part of the police force. how could you ever know the correct answer and outcome within a split second of your life? could anybody be capable of that? whatever choice you decided to take would be the outcome.

you knew you wouldn’t be able to live without jay as your partner and in your life. and his blood would be on your hands if you didn’t surrender now. a shaky breath fell past your lips when you clicked the safety back on and handed it to one of them.

of course they used your gun against you and headbutted you with it. little black spots were in your vision before it completely knocked you out. you just hoped the intelligence team would be able to find you and jay.

it would be your fault and you’d feel guilty until your last breath if they didn’t.

you weren’t sure how much time had passed but a hard slap against your cheek woke you up. a blood trail still continued to trickle down your forehead and you winced at the feeling of an awful beating in your eardrums. “wake up sleeping bitch.”

you tried to speak but instead you coughed at the buildup in your throat. not being able to help yourself, in a snarky tone you replied. “i thought it was sleeping beauty?” that earned you another slap that ensured fingerprints across your cheek but you weren’t feeling any regret about it.

“now shut up and answer my next question.” he inputted before you could interrupt again. you looked at him with a devious grin and he rolled his eyes in annoyance. “what were you looking for in that house?”

when you leaned forward, you realized the reason why you couldn’t move was because your arms were tied behind your back. but nonetheless you leaned forward encroaching in his space enough to feel his breath span out against your red cheek.

“as if i’d tell you.” your defiance had him pushing your head back forcefully so you hit the concrete behind you, feeling as if a baseball bat hit your skull.

he smirked at your uncomfort. “perhaps a little visit with your boyfriend will help you come to understand that i don’t mess around. if you don’t give me an answer—my boys won’t hesitate to put a bullet straight through his head.” your only reply was a silent one.

spitting blood onto his shoes and he cursed before grinning again. “yeah that’s what i thought.” turning his head towards the door, he yelled. “bring the pretty boy in!”

your shoulders immediately dropped when they entered the room. the other two men from earlier were dragging jay into the room and disposed of his body roughly on the ground in front of you. if it weren’t for his chest rising up and down faintly then you would have thought he was dead.

both of his eyes were already swollen and you knew he would have two black eyes for weeks, dried blood dripped down his face and you didn’t even want to look at the rest of his body. despite the fact he was wearing clothes, you knew he had many internal problems that would need only the care a hospital could provide.

“j-jay?” you stuttered at the sight of him.

he kept blacking out and struggled to stay awake. jay had been counting his breaths to make sure he had enough air circulating through his body. cracked ribs were no joke and he could only groan to let his favorite person know that he was still holding on.

“you think beating people is the only answer? violence?” you glanced around the room and glared at the three with a venomous look. they shared similar smiles hearing how hoarse your voice was.

“i hope my team finds you all and you rot!” the two that brought jay in walked away and the one that talked to you a few moments ago stood and looked down at you. saying one more thing before walking out the door and shutting it. “and i hope next time i come in here—you’ll feel more generous and tell me what you were up to. if you don’t then our pretty boy here will die as promised.”

as soon as he left the room, you started rubbing your arms up and down the wall in hopes that the binds around your wrists would break off. “y/n.” jay mumbled. you didn’t even notice he had turned his face and you shushed him. “don’t open your eyes jay. it’ll be okay, i promise.”

he tried again. “y-y/n. i need to t-tell you something.” jay’s lip was busted and bruised. he hissed at the pain. “you don’t need to tell me anything. we’re getting out of here, detective halstead.” you stated with confidence and continued to run your hands up and down despite the sting of your wrists.

jay had a feeling earlier this morning that something bad would happen. his gut had told him something and he wished he hadn’t ignored it. but he can’t always follow everything, especially when they didn’t even have their case yet. but of course after finding out the hard way, this case was bad.

he knew it and it still put you in harm's way but jay had to tell you how he felt just in case it did go the way he was hoping it wouldn’t. “i don’t care if i need to keep my strength right now. listen to me please.” he pleaded and you finally stopped, turning to glance at his face.

jay was squinting and the visual of his state had your stomach churning.

“y/n i haven’t been completely honest with you and i need to tell you this. i’ve wanted to for a while now, but i just couldn’t find the right moment to.” it was getting to the point where you were desperately trying to keep together. and now that he wanted to confess a deep secret that he’s held close to his chest, the whole thing just had you hysterical.

jay frowned when you started laughing. he tried to scoot closer but the pain he felt was significant. it was just one of those situations where it wasn’t an appropriate response but you couldn’t help yourself either.

he noticed the tears falling down your cheeks while watching you quiet down. a reaction like this didn’t surprise your partner so he didn’t blame your outburst in the least. “i’m s-sorry. i’m sorry.” you muttered and tilted your head to both sides.

you looked back over to jay after successfully wiping more than half of the tears on your sleeve. and for a moment he just gazed into your eyes with his blue ones. a look that you couldn’t decipher nor describe appeared across his face but he seemed to snap out of whatever he was thinking.

jay cleared his throat and continued with what he was about to say earlier. “it’s okay y/n. but i need you to know that i don’t blame you in the slightest for what went down in that house. i would have done the same exact thing because i love you.”

it was like time stopped and you couldn’t speak even if you wanted to. after all of that time you spent with jay. him wanting nothing to do with you, then becoming your acquaintance, somewhat of a real friend and he loved you?

“you really love me?” you questioned. not being able to believe what was coming out of his mouth. you wondered if the three men drugged him and he was high or delusional. a grunt came out his mouth at the current aching pain he felt all over his body.

“yes y/n, i love you so much. if i could, i’d be over there right now and giving you a hug. then i’d lean down and give you a kiss that i’ve been wanting to give you for months now.”

that honesty from him had you laughing, “months? me too. i’ve wanted to kiss you for almost the whole year that i’ve known you.” you replied with the same amount of honesty he had given you.

“yeah, y/n. it’s probably going to be a year soon but i meant what i said. i really do love you and i’m sorry we’re in the situation that we’re in now. i wish i could protect you from this.” before you could reply the two of you heard gunshots outside of the room. “shit! i hope that’s them.” you mumbled and jay nodded as best as he could.

the door banged open and hit the wall. you almost peed your pants with how happy you were to see kevin and adam surveying the room. “clear!” kevin announced and then walked over to you and jay. adam spoke into the radio, “5021 ida. we have officers down and need two ambos rolled to our location.”

after kevin ripped the binds from your wrists, you crawled over to jay even though your arms were killing you. another tear fell down your cheek when you got up and close to him. he looked awful but now that the two of you were safe, he could begin to heal soon enough. “jay.” he made a ‘hmm’ sound due to the exhaustion he was feeling.

“i love you too.” you finally said and he smiled. you leaned down to brush your lips against his carefully. “after all of this is done. i’m going to give you a proper one.”

you winked and he grinned and responded while the medics rolled in. “we have plenty of time in the world now.”

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lovelytarou · 4 years ago

Text

strawberry flavored

pairing: ryōmen sukuna x reader

genre: fluff, a lil suggestive?? kinda

tags: sukuna and strawberry food !! also sukuna has his own body here, set in modern times

word count: 1.3k

a/n: two of my favorite things combined 😌 this is mostly thanks to @sakeomi who asked me to feed her soft sukuna content and @hanniemilk who joined me on my sukuna brainrot!

warm curtains of golden light cascaded between the shades of old trees, their leaves swaying along to the melody provided by the cool breeze. the sun is high up in the sky beating down on the village and its people.

it's a perfect weather to be having a little adventure by yourself. picking up the small basket filled with items for a picnic, you grabbed a big blanket and decided to head out of the house. you smiled and breathed in the air – the sunlight making you look as if you're glowing.

you trudged along the path, swaying the basket lightly as you hummed to yourself, paying no mind to people who gave you judging looks or onlookers who are wondering what got you in such a good mood.

the path you took lead straight to the woods and up the mountain. it's a long walk but it was worth it.

the infamous shrine the villagers told horror stories about around a flame to their children and family stood before you. some of its pillars are broken, paint somewhat fading as if it too was being abandoned by time itself. the building itself was dim and gloomy – the sunlight never reaches this part of the mountain, always dark and away from all things light.

the unknown always intrigues you, it's kind of weird how this looming infrastructure straight out of a scary movie seems comforting to you and provided peace when you wanted to get away. you love it here, it's just you and nature.

“you again,” the voice that spoke from behind you made you jolt in surprise, halting your movements as you prepared your things.

turning around, you saw the pink-haired man (at least, you believe he is) wearing a white kimono, his hands hidden inside the sleeves. he raised his eyebrow at you in question, clearly not surprised that you're here.

“sukuna!” you beamed at him, waving him over from where you're sitting on your picnic blanket. he eyed you for a moment or two before giving up and walking over.

“what is this?” he nodded to the assortment of food, or more like red and pink foods laid out in front of you. he can't lie that most of them smelled sweet, he wonders what you're up to today setting up in his shrine like this.

“oh, i thought we could have a picnic together!” you gestured to the food, oblivious to his confusion and slight irritation. you pat the spot next to you, “come sit.”

although reluctant at first, sukuna went and sat next to you. a little too close, to be exact. he can feel how warm your body is and how much he had craved feeling someone next to him. not that he'd told you that.

you reached for a jar filled with red jam, opening it and lathering it evenly onto a bread you brought with you, topping it with another bread before handing it to him.

sukuna stared at you then back at the sandwich. at first, you would've thought that he's mad at you for giving him food that he doesn't like (not like he needed to eat anyways) but in reality, he's just thinking what the hell do you want him to do with a sandwich.

“go on, try it!” you urged him, pushing the sandwich a bit closer to his mouth.

slowly, he took the food from you and took a bite. he was chewing with a frown on his face as he couldn't see what the fuss is all about until the taste hits his tongue and exploded inside his mouth. he's left there staring at nothingness. he has reached oblivion and he's not coming back.

glancing at his dumbstruck face, you giggled to yourself because that's exactly what your reaction was the first time you tasted strawberry. you watched as sukuna wolfed down the whole sandwich in amusement as you ate yours.

“good, isn't it?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

“i've had better.” he grunted, looking away as if bored by the whole ordeal and he did not just inhale the sandwich you made. but, you'll play along with his little game.

“then, perhaps, this will satisfy you?” you offered a donut with strawberry icing and sprinkles on top, wiggling it in front of him with a wide smile.

he hummed thoughtfully, “what is this circular food called?”

“it's a donut,” you spoke through your mouthful of your own, munching it with delight. sukuna can't help but smirk at how much of a messy eater you are. mouth and cheeks covered with crumbs, your hand decorated with strawberry jam and the pink frosting.

you're too entertaining and endearing to look at. he doesn't really get bored of your presence and you always have something new to show him every time you visit him.

he felt his once cold and dead heart skip a beat when you reached over to him with your hand, a furrow on your eyebrows as you wiped away a stray sprinkle on the corner of his lip before popping it inside your mouth. he suddenly felt hot and sweaty even though the sun isn't glaring down on the two of you.

the feeling of your thumb left his skin tingling from the spot you touched. he knew it was a simple act, yet his heart raced inside his chest like it's about to bust out of his body. he can't help but look over at where you're sitting, happily eating your food as you spoke from time to time about whatever you can think of.

you truly are a sight to behold.

“try this one next, it's my favorite.” he snapped out of his thoughts when he felt something touching his lip only to realize it was a plastic straw from a small box you held in your hand.

leaning down, he closed his lips around it and took a long sip. you made a mistake of watching him as he gazed up at you through his lashes, pools of crimson staring through your soul and making you feel like you've been lit on fire. he pulled away with a smirk, his lips a glistening a little from the drink.

with your face feeling hot, you looked away from him and started to clean up a bit since it was the last food you brought. you swiftly gave him a tissue too to clean himself up, gaze not tearing away from you.

cute, he thought.

when you're done, you breathe in the air and closed your eyes. it really is peaceful up here. no one to bother the two of you, practically hidden from the hustle and bustle of the world. it's like being someplace that is forbidden yet magical.

part of the reason why you love coming up there is because of sukuna. when he wasn't being his bratty, grumpy self, he can be serene and a lovely company to have.

before he could react, sukuna felt you cling to his arm and your head slotted itself on his strong shoulder. he felt tense at the moment, not knowing what to do. he could smell your shampoo and your perfume, and just you. he didn't know if the harsh beating he was feeling was from you or him. maybe it's both your hearts beating together.

“i like hanging out with you, sukuna.” you admitted out of the blue, eyes closed as you relaxed against him.

his arm lifted up to wrap around your shoulder, bringing you closer to him.

“why–” before he respond, you cut him off.

“even though you're a grandpa at times.” you chuckled. he was about to push you off because of your statement but you held tight on his kimono.

“i guess you're tolerable,” he mumbled, leaning down to give you a kiss on your forehead, “brat.”

general taglist: @chibishae34 @behan @zukuroo @nakizumie @kirakirasaku @duhsies @marksflvr join my taglist!

#i just want soft sukuna 🤧💞#💫. ryomen sukuna #ryōmen sukuna #ryōmen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryoumen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk sukuna #jjk sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff

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katnissmellarkkk · 2 years ago

Note

Fav Peeta moment or quote in each books?

(Please tag other blog who want answer too)

Thank you 😊

@curiouspeetamellark

Hunger Games :

[1]

“What was that you were saying just before the food arrived? Something about me...no competition...best thing that ever happened to you..."

"I don't remember that last part," I say, hoping it's too dim in here for the cameras to pick up my blush.

"Oh, that's right. That what I was thinking," he says.

[2]

“So, since we were five, you never even noticed any other girls?” I ask him.

“No, I noticed just about every girl, but none of them made a lasting impression but you,” he says.

“I’m sure that would thrill your parents, you liking a girl from the Seam,” I say.

“Hardly. But I couldn’t care less.”

Catching Fire :

[1]

“They're playing with you because you're so ... you know.”

“No, I don't know,” I say. And I really have no idea what he's talking about.

“It's like when you wouldn't look at me naked in the arena even though I was half dead. You're so ... pure,” he says finally.

“I am not!” I say. “I've been practically ripping your clothes off every time there's been a camera for the last year!”

“Yeah, but ... I mean, for the Capitol, you're pure,” he says, clearly trying to mollify me. “For me, you're perfect. They're just teasing you.”

[2]

“With my paint box at home, I can make every color imaginable. Pink. As pale as a baby's skin. Or as deep as rhubarb. Green like spring grass. Blue that shimmers like ice on water.”

The morphling stares into Peeta's eyes, hanging on to his words.

“One time, I spent three days mixing paint until I found the right shade for sunlight on white fur. You see, I kept thinking it was yellow, but it was much more than that. Layers of all sorts of color. One by one,” says Peeta.

The morphling's breathing is slowing into shallow catch-breaths. Her free hand dabbles in the blood on her chest, making the tiny swirling motions she so loved to paint with.

“I haven't figured out a rainbow yet. They come so quickly and leave so soon. I never have enough time to capture them. Just a bit of blue here or purple there. And then they fade away again. Back into the air,” says Peeta.

The morphling seems mesmerized by Peeta's words. Entranced. She lifts up a trembling hand and paints what I think might be a flower on Peeta's cheek.

“Thank you,” he whispers. “That looks beautiful.”

Mockingjay :

[1]

"That last night...to tell you about that last night...well, first of all, you have to imagine how it felt in the arena. It was like being an insect trapped under a bowl filled with steaming air. And all around you, jungle...green and alive and ticking. That giant clock ticking away your life. Every hour promising some new horror. You have to imagine that in the past two days, sixteen people have died--some of them defending you. At the rate things are going, the last eight will be dead by morning. Save one. The victor. And your plan is that it won't be you."

My body breaks out in a sweat at the memory. My hand slides down the screen and hangs limply at my side. Peeta doesn't need a brush to paint images from the Games. He works just as well in words.

"Once you're in the arena, the rest of the world becomes very distant," he continues. "All the people and things you loved or cared about almost cease to exist. The pink sky and the monsters in the jungle and the tributes who want your blood become your final reality, the only one that ever mattered. As bad as it makes you feel, you're going to have to do some killing, because in the arena, you only get one wish. And it's very costly."

"It costs your life," says Caesar.

"Oh, no. It costs a lot more than your life. To murder innocent people?" says Peeta. "It costs everything you are."

[2]

“Let me go!" I snarl at him, trying to wrest my arm from his grasp.

"I can't," he says.

#Peeta mellark #thg #asks 🦋#hunger games

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goldenkirstein · 4 years ago

Text

She lives in daydreams with me

or alternatively, when jean and you visit Ikea

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

pairing: jean x fem! reader

wc: 1.5k+

tags: fluff, modern! au, female reader, language, mentions of food.

a/n: I was inspired by this post, also I just like Ikea, I think Jean would to tbh. am i living out my own daydreams with Jean by writing this? potentially. i love him lol. Feedback and any criticism encouraged lmao.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Your head tilted as you stared dead-on at the boy in front of you.

“Jean, what is that?”

“What are you talking about baby, this is a-” He squinted, looking at the tag, of what you assumed to be a night light?

“An-garna.” Jean looked back up at you, grinning widely.

You had come earlier to Ikea, needing to buy some storage baskets for your room, and yet here you were standing in a miniature model of a child’s room, staring at the six-foot three-man holding a children’s night light, that had...Was that panda face design on it?

“Jean, my love, my dear, we don’t have kids; why on Earth would I need a children’s night light?” The toothy grin quickly disappeared from his face, quickly replaced with a stern expression.

“Just because something is marketed towards children doesn’t mean adults can’t buy it, and anyways I was merely suggesting it, knowing how you can’t sleep after watching horror movies.” It’s more like when he can’t sleep after watching, but his ego would never let him admit that.

You rolled your eyes at your boyfriend, “put it in the cart, Kirstein.” He flashed you a smile, coming over and placing a kiss on your cheek before mumbling a small thank you.

As much as you would act annoyed or unamused when it came to Jean’s antics, it was more or less a front. You loved it when he would let his guard down in public with you. He wasn’t always like this; the Jean you met years prior would be caught dead before expressing his affections in public. He would get easily flustered, blush to sport his face if anyone he knew saw him admiring and doting on his girlfriend. It wasn’t something that deeply upset you; in a way, you were able to keep a tiny part of Jean to yourself, the goofy, tender side of him that he only let out when he was with you. However, watching him become more confident in himself and expressing his love for you outranked any desires that you had to keep Jean bottled up for your gratification.

He walked in front, long legs carrying him practically miles in front of you until he turned a corner and found himself situated in a living-room model. You followed shortly after and saw that he was making himself comfortable on a charcoal-grey couch.

“Mm, come sit,” he patted gently on the cushion next to him, gesturing to you to join him on the sofa. You raised your eyebrows and let out a giggle, situating the cart near a side table before accompanying him.

“What do you wanna watch babe,” Jean tilted his head, signalling to the fake flat-screen in front of you. You thought about tormenting the boy; however, you opted to play along with him this time.

“Oooh, I don’t know, check if the new Grey’s episode is out.” He smiled at you, appreciating your willingness to get lost in this daydream with him. His smile quickly shifted into a mischievous grin as he poked your side.

“Heyyy, what the fuck was that for!” You recoiled, shrinking away from him, but before you could get far enough away from him, he pulled you back into his side. You tried squirming away from him, only for his grip on you to get stronger, and you were met with a chuckle—the noise reverberating around the tiny living room.

“Really? Greys? On a night like this?” You shifted your body, turning your head to look at the “window” covered with sheer beige curtains, overlaid with opaque maroon ones. Outside, or rather you should say the wall was painted white, so you began drumming up a scenario in your mind. That was tonight, a spring evening, stars visible in the night sky? Or a cold and snowy winter’s night? The purple tinge of the atmosphere apparent through the translucent curtains. Jean stared at you intently, wondering what you will come up with, his gaze shifting as the corners of your lips upturned; you had settled on an idea.

“Oooh yeah, it’s practically pitch black outside; I can only see the streetlights in the distance. We should really do something about that pesky tree, though. Its branches keep tapping on the window; it’s frankly quite annoying.” A rosy tinge was present on his cheeks, hazel eyes twinkling at you.

You placed a hand on his chest, your focus entirely on the love-struck boy in front of you, “You know what? We should totally watch a horror movie!” Just as you began to immerse yourself in the daydream, Jean shot up from the couch, leaving an indent where he was sitting behind.

“Alright, enough dilly-dallying, we should go home now.” He clapped his hands together, moving to grab the cart to leave the store display.

Dilly-dallying? Did he really just say dilly-dallying?

“What’s wrong, Jean-boy? This is our home! Oooh, don’t tell me you don’t wanna watch because you’re scared.” You fell back on the couch, beaming, elbows propping you up as you teased him.

“Am not. I just decided that I’m in the mood for cinnamon rolls and fro-yo.” He placed his elbow on the handles of the cart, head resting in the palm of his hand. He gave you an unimpressed look.

“Oh really? Who’s that night-light for again? I seem to have forgotten.” This time it was his turn to roll his eyes at you. Without saying anything, he placed his hands back on the cart’s handle and began to leave the “living room.”

You swung your legs over, a giggle leaving your mouth as you walked over to your boyfriend. You wrapped your arms around his middle, resting your cheek on him. “Babe, I was just joking; I didn’t mean to upset you,” you mumbled into him.

He let out a sigh and stopped in the middle of the aisle. You watched as he brought one of his hands down to grasp one of yours that had taken hold of his waist. Jean turned to face you, head tilting as a slight smirk overtook his face. “That’s what I was waiting to hear.” He placed a soft kiss on your forehead before turning around to continue rolling the cart forward to his destination.

His arm extended behind him, motioning to you to hold his hand. You obliged, your palm sliding in his, fingers curling around your knuckles as his. “Whatever,” you grumbled, choosing to turn your head to observe the variety of rugs that were hanging on display. He tugged at your hand, an amused expression painting his face.

“You want those cinnamon buns or not, pretty girl?” The pet name almost made you choke. He knew what it would do to you. He would use it sparsely, only to coax a reaction out of you, but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of letting him know the hold he had over you.

You whipped your head back to face him, confident to quip back at him, but it all melted when you saw the way he was looking at you; a lop-sided smirk, his tongue peeked out to wet his bottom lip before capturing it between his teeth. He raised his eyebrows, waiting for what you had to say.

“Yeah, I do.” You managed to slip a few words out. He had won this one, using his charms to debilitate any assuredness you had. He brought your linked hands up to his lips, tenderly kissing the back of your hand, humming in delight.

“You know, we should come here more often, live out our domestic daydreams together.” The smells of cinnamon buns were getting stronger as you walked on.

“Sure, but you could also just move in with me.”

The tips of his ears went red, and you paused, realizing what you just said, the weight of what you just said. You had thought about asking him to move in with you, but you didn’t mean for it to slip out in the middle of a random conversation; in Ikea nonetheless. “I- You don’t have to. I was just joking. I don’t know why I said that.”

Your voice dwindled to merely a whisper as you completed your sentence. Jean stopped the cart once more. “Yes. Yes, I’ll move in with you.” His expression was earnest as he looked at you, eyes glittering with adoration as he waited for your response.

“Whoa, whoa, hold your horses cowboy. We can talk about this after you get me those cinnamon buns you promised.” you wiped any sense of embarrassment from your face as you tried to suppress your laughter, which was caused by the zealousness your boyfriend had just shown.

However, there was no doubt that your heart did grow in fondness for Jean, and you were relieved that he wasn’t off-put by your haphazard confession. He was absolutely whipped for you, and you couldn’t deny that you were head over heels in love with him either. You desired to continue to share your life with him, and moving in together would be the next step in your relationship.

“Yes, Ma’am” His voice broke you out of your thoughts as he placed his hand to his forehead to salute you. You giggled at his actions.

“Lead the way, Kirstein.”

a/n: lol, this was practically for my own self-indulgence. and i feel like this was a tad bit ooc idk. Anywayssss, I would like to mention that I'm working on a navigation page with taglists and such and thinking about requests. I wanna branch out write for more aot characters as well as jjk and hq. Again, I'm very new to this so it's gonna take some time. I would love to know ur thoughts on all of this lol.

As always, please leave a like/reblog (i love reading tags makes me happy heh) if you enjoyed this, I appreciate lots <33

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peachy-panic · 3 years ago

Text

“Look at me.”

Hi there. I’m new here, but also very much not, which is to say you’ve probably seen me pop up a few dozen (hundred) times in your notifications with likes and comments and the occasional ask when I’m feeling brave, sliding under the radar from the safety of my obscure fandom-turned-main account.

POINT IS, I’m no stranger to the wonderful works of this community, and CERTAINLY no stranger to whump appreciation, even if I haven’t always had a word for it. And because I’ve been so inspired by all the talented writers here, I’ve decided to finally cut loose and throw my own work into the ring, and the whole @whumpmasinjuly thing seemed like an opportune time to pop up.

I’ve aggressively lurked on so many of your pages in the last year so I’m sure I’m leaving someone out, but I did want to tag a few of the writers who have really motivated me to start this page just by reading their writing:

@ashintheairlikesnow @orchidscript @deluxewhump @whump-tr0pes @evermetnotforgotten @card-games-and-pain

And if you’ve made it this far into the post, we’ve arrived at the actual content. This snippet is from a project I started writing before I knew about the existence of the BBU, but I’ve slowly started molding it into something that fits more-or-less within the bounds of that collective universe. Some things may take slightly different turns to the rules established there, but it’s the same general concept.

Without further ado.

PROMPT: “Look at me.”

WARNINGS: General BBU-esque warnings, human trafficking, slavery, non-con (fade-to-black ish but the lead up is… Not Great). Let me know if I missed anything!

He knows something is off right away when Mr. Torley calls to him from the end of the long hallway on the other side of the house.

When the children are home, Jaime is confined to the main common areas: the living room that spills into the large open-concept kitchen, the guest bathroom, the laundry room (where he has already spent most of his time working), the boys’ toy room (where he has only gone to clean up after them), and of course, the small room he has been given to sleep in, which he is sure once served as some sort of storage area.

At the mouth of the living room is a corridor that leads to Mr. Torley’s study, and across from that, his bedroom. So he is told. Jaime was given instructions never to go into that wing of the house unless explicitly invited. He has been in his new home assignment for three days now and has never once been asked to cross those bounds.

Until now.

Carefully, Jaime places the mug he had been diligently scrubbing in the basin of the sink and shuts off the tap. He looks around for the hand towel and, remembering he had thrown it in with the last load of laundry, dries his hands on his t-shirt instead.

There’s a shift in the air, something thick and weighty and terrible as he steps into the opening of the hallway, but he doesn’t allow himself a moment to hesitate. He pads near-silently forward, toward the only open door, all the way at the end.

In the threshold between the hall and the master bedroom, Jaime’s toes brush against where pristine hardwood meets soft carpet. It feels good against his bare feet after days of standing on an unforgiving surface without the allowance of shoes or socks, but not nearly good enough to settle the uneasiness building in the pit of his stomach. Mr. Torley sits on the edge of the bed, a long, deep-colored robe covering most of his body, save for the deep strip of exposed skin down his chest where a few patches of thick, dark hair peek through. Jaime forces his eyes up to his.

“You called for me, Sir?” His voice low and steady, even as his eyes draw unwittingly to the lamp on the bedside table, which has been dimmed to an orange glow that makes the room feel small and suffocatingly warm.

“Come here,” his Keeper beckons, and Jaime’s muscles operate by the hand of some unseen force, pushing him forward. He only makes it half a step in before Mr. Torley raises a hand, gesturing to where the light of the hallway spills in around his silhouette. “Close the door behind you.”

Jaime’s limbs feel very heavy all of a sudden, but he moves anyway, a phantom sting buzzing beneath his skin at even the briefest thought of hesitation. Never make your Keeper wait. Never let your Keeper ask twice.

The hallway is plain and sterile, much like the rest of the Torley house, but Jaime stares longingly out at it as he pulls the door shut, wishing he were out there instead.

When the door clicks shut, he can feel a pair of eyes rake down his back like cold fingertips. It raises the hair on the back of his neck, his skin breaking out in an unpleasant chill, but he forces perfect neutrality into his expression before he turns around. He zeroes in on the sensation of soft carpet under his soles instead of the prickling dread under his skin as he makes his way toward the bed, coming to a stop a couple feet away.

Mr. Torley chuckles under his breath, a low, amused sound that Jaime is already getting used to hearing. He seems to reserve it for Jaime alone and it always serves to make him feel like there is some sort of private joke he’s not been let in on. Or, more accurately, that he is the joke, and he can’t quite stifle the lingering sense of shame that comes with that.

“I said, come here.” It’s a direct order, but paired with a hint of amusement and something darker swimming behind his eyes. He rubs a hand invitingly, pointedly, over the comforter next to him and Jaime swallows back a lump in his throat that feels a lot like bile.

He isn’t stupid. Despite everything that’s been told to him, he’s not. But in that moment he wishes maybe he was, and then ignorance could be bliss for just a few more seconds. He knows where this is headed, and he knows that it’s wrong. It is against the policies, against the rules, he knows it is, but he isn’t surprised, either. It hadn’t taken long at the training facility to discover that the system on paper looks a whole lot different than the system in practice.

“‘We uphold a zero-tolerance policy for the sexual exploitation and abuse of Domestic workers,’” a cruel, mocking voice recites in his head, alongside the memory of a leather-gloved thumb sliding between his lips, his wide, tearful eyes glued to the tiny, black remote in his handler’s fist.

The skin beneath his collar burns at the memory, and he raises his fingers absently to touch there, half expecting to feel the heavy weight of the electric clip attached. He doesn’t, of course, and the only electricity he feels now is of a different nature, coming off his Keeper in waves as he waits, a bit more impatiently with every second, for Jaime to sit.

So he does.

Mr. Torley crowds his space immediately, and his instinctive response to pull away is smothered by a heavy arm draping over his shoulders and a droning voice inside his head. You must make yourself available at all times. You may not refuse any order or request that does not directly interfere with the wellbeing of another person. Jaime allows himself to wonder, for the briefest moment, if his wellbeing counts for anything. He knows it doesn’t. They had just spent the past three months teaching him, in every way imaginable, that he was not, in fact, a person at all.

All the offhand remarks from the trainers, the lewd sneers, the heavy-lidded glances and roaming hands… they had all painted him a picture of what to expect. He had just tricked himself into thinking that maybe, hopefully, if there ever really was a god in this universe that loved him like he was sure he once believed, that he was wrong. In the three days since he had stepped foot into his newest post, Jaime had managed to convince himself that maybe, possibly, he had gotten one of the good ones.

Mr. Torley is all too happy to shatter the illusion as his finger and thumb find Jaime’s earlobe, rubbing it between them and then ghosting down the side of his neck.

“Take off your shirt,” he whispers.

Jaime’s blood runs cold.

You may not refuse any order or request. He can’t conceal the trembling in his fingers as they curl around the hem of his standard-issue grey t-shirt. You may not refuse any order or request. The warm ambience of the room feels startlingly cold against his naked torso as he pulls the fabric over his head, letting it fall in a soft whisper onto the carpet. You may not refuse any order or request. His arm is back around his shoulders instantly, hot and cold assaulting his skin all at once and he feels so exposed and he doesn’t want to be here he doesn’t want to do this.

Mr. Torley places a heavy palm against his chest, running it slowly downward, and Jaime can picture what it looks like without even looking; calloused pads scraping over soft skin, all thick fingers and subtly unkempt nails, the beginnings of age spots and wrinkles and small dustings of black hair across the knuckles. He thinks his keeper must be able to feel the way his heart is pounding through his ribs, and he feels a surge of embarrassment that he was sure the training should have beaten out of him.

It’s because you weren’t trained for this, the panicked voice in the back of his head screams as the hand trails lower, grazing the thin patch of hair below his navel. This isn’t supposed to happen. This is against policy. You weren’t made for this. His skin feels static in every place Mr. Torley’s fingers brush, and he wishes he could dissolve under them.

“You’re shaking, baby.” Jaime winces at the unexpected term of endearment. So far, it has only been boy, curt and abrasive when thrown in his direction, usually followed by a direct order. “Have you never had a man touch you like this?”

His mind supplies a horror show of memories, flashes of images behind closed eyelids - leather-gloved hands and concrete rooms of the training facility - and he realizes he doesn’t know how to answer that. He wants to cry. Can’t cry. Isn’t allowed to cry. Then there are fingers on his chin, on his jaw, softer than any of his touches have ever been; soft like the word baby on his lips, soft like the half-lidded eyes that he is forced to meet.

“I asked you a question.”

“I haven’t. Sir.” His voice shakes, barely a whisper.

It is mostly true, probably in the way Mr. Torley really meant it, and unfortunately seems to be exactly the answer he was looking for. Dread splits Jaime in two. One part, the part of him that’s hazy and pliant and good tells him he has done a good job, that he has pleased his Keeper, he has said the right thing. His keeper’s needs are his needs, if his Keeper is happy, he is happy.

The other part just keeps screaming. And screaming. And screaming.

He doesn’t want this.

It doesn’t matter what he wants, he’s not supposed to have wants.

But this isn’t allowed.

His Keeper is happy.

Please, please stop touching me.

He can’t say no, no is forbidden to him.

Please don’t make me do this.

His keeper is smiling.

“You’re very lucky,” Mr. Torley says, dragging the thumb that was holding his jaw over he’s lower lip. “They could have given you to any one of your bidders, and trust me… there are some messed up people out there who invest in the services of Domestic Companions. But I can be good to you.”

Somehow, he doesn’t feel very lucky at all.

“Yes, sir,” he says, a bit breathless as fingers trace up and down his spine. His own fingers curl into the bedsheets on the opposite side of his thigh where Mr. Torley can’t see the outward signals of his distress, though from the naked delight in his eyes as he watches him, he doesn’t think he minds.

There are lips on his before he can even process what is happening, and he feels his whole body go rigid in his Keeper’s hold. He’s never been kissed before and the cold wetness against his mouth is nothing like the movies make it out to be. It’s hard to wrap his head around the overwhelming sensation, but the one thing he knows for sure, immediately, is that he hates it.

He hates his first kiss unlike anything he’s hated before. Terror and humiliation seize him in equal stride as he realizes he doesn’t really know what to do. He is frozen, for a moment, his own pulse beating wildly in his ears as slimy lips move against his own. When Mr. Torley cups a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to lean into the kiss, his mouth opens instinctively, submitting to the insistence of the movement, and this seems to be exactly what he was looking for. A low, throaty hum vibrates against his mouth and Jaime clamps his eyes shut tight. He feels like he might die. For a moment, he kind of wishes he would.

He doesn’t register the pressure of the hand against his chest until his back is already pressed into the duvet. Mr. Torley sits up then, breaking the kiss, then stands. Jaime doesn’t look at him - he can’t bring himself to - but he can feel his eyes on him anyway. Thick fingers hook into the elastic of the thin, gray pants he had been given three days prior, and his breathing goes flat. Please don’t please don’t please don’t, his brain lights up with panic, every nerve ending in his body on high alert. But he doesn’t move, other than to close his trembling fingers around the material on either side of him, curling the soft fibers of the duvet into his fists. He wants to close his eyes, but he can feel them burning, then swimming with moisture, and he knows if he clamps his eyelids shut, the tears will spill over and he doesn’t want to cry in front of Mr. Torley.

Instead, he stares up at the ceiling fan, focusing on the long, thin blades of wood instead of the feeling of cool air against his lower half as the material is pulled away from him. He hears the rustle of cloth as his pants join the discarded shirt on the carpet at his feet, and then another sound of the same, this time heavier, but he doesn’t dare look away from the grey clump of dust dangling from one of the fan blades above him.

Worse than the chill of the exposure is the heat that follows in the form of skin on skin, an immovable weight settling over his body. His throat jerks in another attempt at a sob, a plea that can’t let free. He swallows it down and tells himself that if he just keeps staring at that one spot of dust, he isn’t really here, that his keeper is not on top of him, that this isn’t about to happen to him.

But he is. It is. There’s no stopping it now. There never was.

“Look at me.”

For the first time, he allows his eyes to slip shut in a quiet moment of defeat - just a singular moment of hesitation before he follows the command. He feels the moisture slipping out at the corners but he can’t do anything to stop them even if his hands weren’t being slowly pressed above his head and into the mattress. When he opens his eyes, he looks up into the cold expression hovering over him, fully eclipsing the spot of his previous focus. It’s just him now. It’s all him, every one of his senses besieged by the one person whose life he is supposed to center himself around now. In that context, perhaps this should feel exactly right.

Somehow, it doesn’t. Not at all.

#whumpmasinjuly #whump #tw: noncon #bbu #kind of #like bbu adjacent?#further exploration to come if i can manage to keep posting #Do No Harm: Jaime & Sebastian #Jaime #Mr. Torley

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soliverse · 4 years ago

Text

cinderella and the mystery of the red lipstick (sfw version) - d.sc

reader x roommate!winwin

genre: fluff, humor, (optional smut below)

warnings: a bunch of swearing, mean insults and a bit of gaslighting

word count: 2972

synopsis: this is another Cinderella fic, except for the fact that she left lipstick stains instead of glass slippers

tags:

@byutafy for the short notice beta reading. love you!

networks:

@nctcreations @kdiarynet @kpopscape @kwritersworld @culture-cafe @neowritingsnet @neoswitchnet @czennienet @nct-writers

prompt:

The song it was based on was Lips by NCT 127 (although it leaned towards the demo version more)

It was also a bit upbeat because the song Cinderella by CNBLUE (the Youth With You version) has been stuck on my head for ages now.

Enjoy reading!

Love, Ellie.

It was already two in the afternoon but Winwin still stayed lying in bed, clutching his blanket close to his body in an attempt to prevent the chill of the afternoon breeze from coming in contact with his bare skin.

The plan was to stay in bed until all remnants of the vodka and last night's shenanigans have washed away. Or until he dies from starvation. But his roommates have other things in mind.

"WINWIN HYUNG!"

He was jolted awake by the loud noise coming from his bedroom window. Half-awake, he peeked through the sheets to see what the commotion was about.

The first thing he saw was Lucas holding his now broken doorknob in one hand, happily waving it around like a lightstick. Hendery was happily mumbling some bullshit that he didn't care enough to comprehend. Xiaojun was holding a tube-like contraption that he assumed was confetti, Ten and Yangyang were on the side, dancing like the game show girls while holding up each side of a handmade banner stating "Congrats on getting laid!" badly written with a green crayon. Meanwhile, Kun at the end of the line, leaning back at the door frame with his arms crossed while watching all of the chaos unfold right before him.

"Fuck off..."

Winwin grunted and grabbed the pillow under his head, throwing it with full force so that it ended up hitting Xiaojun on his chest.

They seem to have taken the hint because they all scrambled outside, laughing their asses off as they try to get away and avoid getting their asses kicked by a martial artist.

Meanwhile, Winwin buried his face under the thick sheets, trying his best to block the light coming from outside from reaching his eyes, heightening his already throbbing headache. He was planning to stay in bed no matter how loud his stomach grumbled, but his resolve is weaker than he expected. Begrudgingly, he dragged his tired ass out of bed to take a cold shower, hoping that will shake his hangover out.

///

“Holy shit.”

This wasn’t the usual statement that he says to himself whenever he would look at himself in the morning. However, as soon as he lifted his head in the mirror to wash his face, he might as well be an extra for a horror movie.

All over his upper body, especially the neck and chest area, was filled with red smudges. He also found tiny hints of it at the corners of his lips. Upon closer inspection, he realized that it was lipstick.

Whoever he made out with (or had sex with) last night must’ve gone wild and tried to mark every part of him that she could place her lips on.

Winwin felt his heart sink. He couldn’t, for the life of him, remember who he was last night. Just like his body, the memories of her red lips lingered on his mind. But that’s about it.

It took him a long time to squint his eyes and try to recall the moments leading up to him getting on the bed with someone, but it only made his headache worse. Defeated, he chose to let everything go and proceeded to hop in the shower just like he initially intended.

He opened the shower, letting it get to his desired temperature before he stepped in and let the water flow from his hair to the rest of his body. He didn’t move, instead of leaning one of his hands on the wall for support as he closed his eyes and tried to soothe himself with the water pressure from the showerhead. He took a deep breath, letting the air come out slowly of his lips, eyes still heavily shut.

That’s when the memories kicked in.

He finally remembered being in that same position, in a familiar corner of their dorm, as he leaned over to kiss the girl with the red lips. He also remembered the heat, the intensity of the kiss as his subconscious made him remember that he was gasping for air afterward. And so, he resorted to kissing her jaws instead. She willingly returned the favor, which is probably where he’d gotten the smudges that he found that morning, and how her red lips formed a proud smile as she kept on going, painting his fair skin with her rouge.

He sucked in another lungful of air before opening his eyes and hopping back into reality. He’s still clueless as to how the girl looked like, but he was determined to find out who’s the owner of those red luscious lips, and he would love it all over him again.

///

Sicheng came out of his room already dressed up, water still dripping from his hair to the towel that he placed on his neck. He made his way to the kitchen and he found the rest of his friends sitting around the table, smiling like idiots.

“What?”

He asked, already annoyed about how they’ve been acting all day, or at least, for the past two hours.

“Yangyang saw you enter your room last night. With a girl,” says Kun.

“Uhh, duh?” Ten replied, raising an eyebrow at the older as he grabbed the butter knife and spread peanut butter over a piece of bread.

“How sure is everyone that it was a girl?” Hendery squinted his eyes, trying to look intimidating as he interrogated his friend for further details about last night.

“Why is everyone so concerned if I fucked a girl or not? Or if I fucked at all?” Winwin replied in annoyance, coming out almost whiney, hoping that they would cut the questions out and leave him and his breakfast alone.

“You don’t know either, do you?” Xiaojun tried not to laugh as he stuffed a sunny-side-up egg in his mouth, failing at the last minute to the point that he almost spat some of it out.

Winwin sighed. He knows they will plague him with questions until next week and will do anything to squeeze it out of him at the best of their abilities. Him getting laid feels like some event to be celebrated because out of all the guys, he was the least interested in women. Not that he doesn’t like them, it’s that he just refused to do it unless he’s genuinely interested in the girl.

Or guy.

Was it a guy?

Winwin resorted to stuffing his mouth with as much food as he can because it would give him an excuse to not speak further and answer their questions. For how long he can keep it up is a question that he’ll have to face once his plate full of food is decimated.

///

By the time you get into your brother’s dorm, the whole place was so trashed that you even hesitated to proceed inside. However, your mother asked you that morning to come over to your brother’s dorm as he refuses to reply to her texts and respond to her calls that morning.

“Ssup, nerd.”

You always cringe whenever Hendery calls you that nickname. Not that it affects you or anything. It was just so… old-school. You’re a big fan of insults and you would certainly be happier if the nickname was a bit more creative.

“Ssup, failure.” You replied, sitting right beside him as you grabbed a plate and helped yourself with the food served at the table, courtesy of Kun. He’s the only one that’s competent enough to fry eggs that beautifully.

“Mom’s been calling non-stop since last night. I didn’t tell her I wasn’t with you. I couldn’t come up with an excuse so I just told her you slept early because of morning classes.”

Hendery snickered.

You and he have very different lifestyles. He was supposed to be two years ahead of you in college, but he’s always caught up in partying and having fun that he missed some subjects that he had to retake that year. One more fuck up and you’ll be joining him in classes next year. And as your parents’ only hope, you feel compelled to stay away from all the fun stuff until you graduate. That is also the reason why Hendery felt it was his moral obligation to shoo you away from last night’s party, despite sharing the same room as him.

At least that's what he told you. You have a reason to believe that he shooed you away last night just so he can do whatever he wanted without you around to snitch on him.

“Everything’s fine, kid. I already told her the same thing last night. You and I share the same brain.”

“Yes, except one of us has his brain fried by substance abuse and the other has a perfectly functioning human brain capable of making future science discoveries.”

Your eyes then diverted to the guy sitting right across you. He looked sickly and pale, his organs probably screaming inside asking to die.

“What’s up with him?” You asked your brother.

“He had done the deed with a guy last night.” Winwin, with an expressionless face, was quick to throw a flying spoon in Hendery’s direction. The milk splattered everywhere, but Hendery was able to evade it, laughing maniacally as he wiped the milk off of his arms.

“Hey, you’re good with this investigation stuff, right? Maybe you can help prince charming over here find his Cinderella?”

///

"Tell me what you can remember."

Winwin thought you looked ridiculous when you grabbed a pen and a notepad, looking like some low-budget investigator in the movie. He wasn't in the mood to play along, but he might as well humor you and find out what happened last night.

"This may not help at all, but I can't remember jack shit except for one thing," He paused. You raised both eyebrows expectantly, signaling him to answer faster. "Red lips. That's the one thing I haven't forgotten about."

You scribbled the word, red lips in your notepad.

You scribbled a few more words and nodded as if you understood its implication.

"Well, that doesn't narrow down the suspects at all."

You placed your notepad in your pocket and stood up from your seat.

"We shall now go and investigate the crime scene."

///

You decided that the crime scene was Winwin's bedroom since this is where he found himself last.

Winwin saw that you're very detail-oriented, looking at every nook at cranny to see traces of the mystery person around and aid in the investigation.

His room was cleaner than you'd expected, so finding things that stick out or are out of place will be a clear sign of the perpetrator.

You searched high and low, from the shelves to the bed, but you're only able to find two things that might help his case.

As soon as you lifted one of his pillowcases, you saw traces of red smeared across its white surface. Some of it even transferred in the bedsheets.

"Your story checks out. It is red lipstick." You lifted the pillow and walked towards Winwin, who's just sitting at one of his bean bags and mostly just observing you doing your stuff.

You pointed out the smudges to him and he nodded. You then proceeded to grab one of your magnifiers from your backpack and looked at the stains for closer inspection.

"Seeing its transferability, I can say that the lipstick in question has a satin finish. The shade, as far as I can see, is somewhere in between orange and bright red." You grabbed your notepad once again and listed down your observations.

"Know anyone who wears that often?" He proceeded to shake his head.

"Alright then. Now, we ask the witnesses."

You were about to leave the room when Winwin called you out to call your attention.

"Hmm?"

"I think there's something under the bed."

He stood up from his seat and proceeded to walk towards his bed, kneeling as he tried to reach for something below.

You were surprised to see what he found, though. In between his fingers is a piece of thin, lace material, glowing red just like the lipstick shade. It was someone's underwear.

"Yeah… I think we should keep that from the witnesses."

///

"Where were you at the time of the incident?"

As it turns out, the rest of the boys are no more helpful than Winwin. You just finished interviewing Kun, Ten, Yangyang, Xiaojun, and Lucas. The boys themselves barely remember what they did last night, let alone whatever their friend was doing. Meanwhile, the victim (aka Dong Sicheng) sat there right alongside you while you asked the questions. You asked them if they were helpful at all, but alas, nothing resonates to him.

"Hey, aren't you going to ask me about last night?"

Hendery popped out in the makeshift interrogation room (aka the living room) and sat down right beside you, peeking in at your notes.

"Nope. I only interview reliable sources. You can barely remember your stuff sober." You stuffed your notepad back again at your backpack, hugging it close to your body to keep it from your brother.

"I saw Winwin with someone though. He was making out with someone right just a few meters away from his bedroom."

"Go on…"

"I didn't see her well though. She was pinned across the wall and Sicheng hyung's body was blocking the view."

You sighed.

"See. It was pretty useless information."

He was about to say something else, but you cut him off.

"I'll keep them in mind, thank you very much."

///

You’ve finally sat down back again in the kitchen to give yourself a moment of peace to piece the things you found together. Winwin is just right beside you, just quietly observing just as usual.

Everything is laid out across the kitchen table, your notepad, the pillowcase, the underwear (which is kept in a ziplock bag for hygienic purposes).

“You still don’t remember anything?”

“I do remember seeing those before, but nothing is still coming out. I still can’t remember who she is.”

You can tell that Sicheng was getting a bit frustrated. He was trying his best to remember as he once again shut his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows, seeing if there is anything that he is missing.

As he did this, Hendery popped in again in the kitchen, this time holding a full laundry basket.

“I would just like to let you know that I am being a good brother and roommate by doing your laundry.”

“Yes, yes. Thank you Hendery. You did well." You smiled at your brother to acknowledge him, but you mostly did it just to shoo him away from the investigation room. He seems to have gotten the idea and left as soon as he showed the basket to you for one last time.

He shut the door and you were met with a deafening silence once again. This time though, you felt weird energy coming from the guy right in front of you. He stared at you for a long time, specifically your lips, and then he started to break down right in front of you.

"Shit."

"Hmm?"

You asked him what the problem was, but all that came out of his mouth are grunts and a string of curses.

"You alright?"

He was now going between laughing and frustration, rubbing his hands on his face as he lets out all emotions.

"It was you all along. You're red lips girl."

You smiled as you looked at your phone to check the time.

"Five hours. I'm impressed. If that was my brother, it would've taken him a week or two."

"Why didn't you just tell me? I feel stupid."

"And take the fun out of it? Nope."

You then watch him react, different kinds of emotions flooding in at the same time. You laughed as you stood from your seat and patted his back.

"What gave it away?"

He stopped reacting for a while, composing himself as he relayed his deductions to you.

"I had my suspicions when you opened your bag to get the magnifying glass. I saw a red lipstick tube scattered across but I dismissed it since any girl would have lipstick on her bag. I was also confused when you refused to acknowledge the underwear. I saw it from my point of view, but it's like you purposely didn't look under the bed just so you won't find it. You know it was there, didn't you?"

You finally grabbed a seat right beside him, interested to hear what he has to say next.

"And then there's Hendery's story. You didn't ask him to mess with him. It's because he did see us. I remember now, it's what got us in this mess in the first place…"

You nodded to acknowledge him. You've always known that he's a bit smarter than the other guys, but he was very observant as well. That's why he was quiet all the time.

"Lastly, when Hendery came in with your laundry, there was something sticking out," He picked up the ziplock and held it across your face. "The bra that came with this, it was sandwiched along with your other clothing, but the bright color stuck out to me."

"Mhm… " You nodded in approval. You didn't even notice that last one, but he was able to pick that as well.

"And then I stared at your lips for a while. That's when it hit me. It was the same lips that I claimed last night. The red lips that drove me crazy…"

You gave him a small round of applause as he finished his spiel.

"Honestly, you were on point on everything. I'm just sad that you can't remember anything."

His moment of clarity was shut down and he smiled apologetically.

"Want me to tell you what happened?"

He nodded profusely.

The plan was to stay in bed until all remnants of the vodka and last night's shenanigans have washed away. Or until he dies from starvation. But his roommates have other things in mind.

"WINWIN HYUNG!"

He was jolted awake by the loud noise coming from his bedroom window. Half-awake, he peeked through the sheets to see what the commotion was about.

"Fuck off..."

Winwin grunted and grabbed the pillow under his head, throwing it with full force so that it ended up hitting Xiaojun on his chest.

They seem to have taken the hint because they all scrambled outside, laughing their asses off as they try to get away and avoid getting their asses kicked by a martial artist.

///

“Holy shit.”

Whoever he made out with (or had sex with) last night must’ve gone wild and tried to mark every part of him that she could place her lips on.

Winwin felt his heart sink. He couldn’t, for the life of him, remember who he was last night. Just like his body, the memories of her red lips lingered on his mind. But that’s about it.

That’s when the memories kicked in.

///

“What?”

He asked, already annoyed about how they’ve been acting all day, or at least, for the past two hours.

“Hendery saw you enter your room last night. With a girl,” says Kun.

“Uhh, duh?” Ten replied, raising an eyebrow at the older as he grabbed the butter knife and spread peanut butter over a piece of bread.

“How sure is everyone that it was a girl?” Yangyang squinted his eyes, trying to look intimidating as he interrogated his friend for further details about last night.

“Why is everyone so concerned if I fucked a girl or not? Or if I fucked someone at all?” Winwin replied in annoyance, coming out almost whiney, hoping that they would cut the questions out and leave him and his breakfast alone.