#I need to be up in a few hours and I haven’t gotten any sleep | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luveline · 4 months

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𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

Spencer calls you drunk and in need of rescue. You confess a few secrets to him while he won’t remember them (or so you think). 3k, fem

cw drunk!spencer, mentioned past drug use, confident/bombshell!reader, flirting, spencer getting some well deserved comfort, a handful of his drunken compliments, insecurity, intense mutual pining

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You’re blissfully sleeping in the arms of a REM cycle when your phone rings. It pulls you by the chest, a punch of shock and expectancy at once. It’ll be someone calling you into work, Hotch himself if you’re lucky.

You search blindly for your phone. If you’re even luckier, it’ll be a wrong number. Your fingers curl around the little body of your phone and you bring it to your ear without checking the number, frazzled. “Hello?” you ask hoarsely.

Total quiet.

“Hello?” You pull the screen away. The caller reads: SPENCER. You pull it back rather than hang up. “Hey, Spencer. Are you there?”

“Hello.” He laughs. “Hello, are you there?”

“I’m here, Spencer, where are you?”

“That’s an interesting question, actually, and I’m sure there’s a great answer, but…”

“But what?” You sit up quickly, your throat aching with sleep. Your room is black as coal pitch. “Spencer, what time is it, my love?”

“You shouldn’t call me stuff like that.”

“Stop being weird and tell me where you are.”

He laughs like a hyena. You can see it in your mind, his smile and all his pearly perfect teeth. You love it when he smiles like that and he rarely ever does. “I’m somewhere and I need your help getting home!” he says with another funny laugh.

“Are you alright? You sound…” He sounds inebriated.

Spencer struggled with his drug problem for so long before you found out. You just hadn’t been around enough, and when you were he’d gotten good at hiding it. You can still remember how furious you’d been with everyone, including him, because you could’ve helped, would’ve done anything to support him through it. If he’s hurting now and hasn’t told you, you love him, but you’ll be insanely angry.

“Spencer?” you ask quietly.

“I went for drinks with a girl but she didn’t like me and I may have drowned my sorrows too much,” he admits. “Um. Did you know gin is very strong?”

“Aw, baby. You’re cheating on me?”

“I’m afraid so,” he says, and hiccups.

“Where are you?”

After some hassle wherein you persuade Spencer to give the phone to someone else in the bar for a slightly less drunk interrogation, you dress and gather your bearings for the drive. You zip a hoodie up over your pyjamas, stuff your feet into some old converse, and set out into the dark to find him.

He calls you again as you’re parking. “Hello,” he says as soon as you answered. “I need you to come and get me.”

Spencer called you twice to save him. Even if he doesn’t remember, he’s called you to come and get him when he knows he needs help, and that realisation is hard to ignore. “Spencer, I’m two minutes away, I’m parking. You’re still where you were?”

“Where was I?”

“At the bar, sweetheart. Are you still there?” It’s scarily dark out and you didn’t grab any sort of defensive measure before you came, which you regret now, climbing out of your car to walk the dimly lit road. The bar glows like a beacon to be followed.

“Still where?”

“Did you hit your head?”

“Not to my knowledge. Though I’m not sure I have much right now. I feel like I’m forgetting everything I’ve ever read, and I’ve read a lot. You know I can read about eighty average length novels in one hour on an e-reader? The buttons make it faster.”

“You haven’t told me that before.” You shiver against the nighttime winds, footsteps heavy on the grey sidewalk.

“I’m trying to be more conversational. Emily says it’s not working.”

“You’re conversational. Isn’t the only condition of being conversational to prompt a conversation? We’re always talking.”

“…What?”

You laugh like crazy. “Spencer, you don’t need to change the way you talk.”

“I annoy people.”

“You don’t annoy me.”

You approach the door of the bar, a ramshackle sheet of plywood over what looks to be a glass door. The bar building seems in similar dessaray, with modern features wrecked by scratches and smashed panes. It’s a real dive. Spencer couldn’t have meant to come here.

You war with both hands to open the door and find yourself faced with a long and empty corridor leading to another door. Worried you’re going to get kidnapped, you bring the phone back to your ear, Spencer’s chatting an immediate greeting. “…telling me I’m doing something wrong without telling me what it is, it’s impossible.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, can you come to the door?”

“I don’t think I have control of my legs,” he says without inflection.

“It’s definitely the building with the smashed door?”

“Yesssss. Are you here?” he asks excitedly.

“I better not get murdered, Spencer Reid.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“How are you even keeping the phone to your ear right now?”

“I’m on speaker phone. Milly showed me how to do it. Say hi, Milly.”

“Hi Milly,” a new voice says.

You rub your eyes with one hand and square your shoulders, prepared to defend yourself if the creepy door leads to a creepier room.

Spencer is immediately visible from the get go. You open the door on to a rather cosy looking bar, which you’re thinking might be the whole point; wretched exterior, secret attraction. Warm orange light ebbs into the space from sconces and a faux fireplace, while a wrestling match playing from the small TV behind the bar casts brighter light down onto Spencer’s shoulders. He looks out of place, dressed in a white oxford shirt and a suit jacket, his tie loosened and hanging from either side of his neck, compared to the lingering patrons who sit dotted around the room in booths and on barstools. One such patron sits in a plaid shirt and a trucker hat, her hair to her back, thick and dark.

You hang up the call and put your phone in your pocket. Spencer gasps like he’s been smacked and picks his own phone up from the bar, clicking at buttons with clumsy fingers. “No,” he hums sadly.

“Spencer,” you say, not wanting to disturb the people spending their sorry-looking night here. “Spencer. Hey, Spence!”

His phone tips between his fingers. The woman you assume to be Milly catches it and offers it back without looking too far from her beer.

“Hey,” you say gently, crossing a wide empty space to meet him. The room itself is shaped like a horseshoe, the bar taking up a surprising amount in the centre, and booths and tables placed around it. Spencer’s off of his barstool as you approach, eyes like puppy dog’s, arms extended. “You okay?” you ask.

You can feel eyes on you both from every angle, but it doesn’t matter, not when Spencer’s falling into your arms (or on to them —he’s surprisingly tall when you aren’t wearing heels). “You alright?” you ask again.

“You don’t have to be worried, I’m fine.”

He’s less coordinated in real life than he’d sounded over the phone, his slurring unmissable, his hands like jumping fish as he tries to hug you. It’s weird and straining to take his weight but you do it without complaint. He smells the same, at least, only his cedary cologne is sharpened by the tang of gin on his breath.

“Thank god you’re here,” he whispers.

“Why?” you ask, pulling away to check for danger.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too, handsome,” you say, genuine but laying it on thick simultaneously as you ease his head back to cup his cheek. You can’t help yourself. He’s the prettiest man you’ve ever met, and it gets worse every year.

He frowns at you deeply. “I don’t like first dates.”

“Then don’t go on them,” you suggest, “you don’t need to until you’re ready.”

“I’m ready for love,” he says. You pull your lips into a flattened line, unsure of what to say, how to explain that it’s waiting for him, but his chin dips towards his neck and his eyes lock onto your face. “You’re not wearing makeup. God, you’re so pretty.”

You flinch away from him. “Fuck, Spencer.”

“I’m sorry! It’s not that you don’t look pretty with makeup, but I never see you without it!”

You’d forgotten you weren’t wearing any. Makeup isn’t a shield, exactly, but you like putting your best foot forward, so to speak. You’ve no clue what you look like tonight, hadn’t managed to look in the mirror, you’d been focused on getting to Spencer before he got lost. You can imagine the puffiness.

Spencer touches your cheek. You let him turn you mostly because he’s surprised you, his eyes roving up and down your face with a fawning curiosity.

“You’re beautiful. You know that already, but people don’t tell you enough,” he says, his hand falling from your cheek.

“Spencer,” you say softly, “let’s get you home.”

You thank Milly for her help and grab Spencer’s bag from the floor to hang on your shoulder. You’d make a joke about how heavy it was if you didn’t think he’d take it from you, and, considering how drunk he is, topple over from the imbalance it provides. His shirt is clammy where you push your hand through his arm to link them, his footsteps wobbly.

“I didn’t want to go on a date,” he says.

“Then why did you go?” you ask, helping him over the door jam into the long hallway.

“I don’t want to be alone forever.”

“Spencer, you won’t be.” It doesn’t feel like the best time to bring up how much you like him. You’re sure he thinks you’re kidding, doesn’t everybody? Don’t torture him, they say. Don’t toy with him. Every time you flirt with him the team acts like you can’t mean it, and for a while it worked for you; you weren’t in love with Spencer. You weren’t playing with his feelings, but you didn’t love him, and then you joined the team and got to know him, watched him fluster at every comment you made or under any soft looking and realised you could love him. It was easy to fall for him. You liked doing it. But now he’s determined to write your affection off as a joke and going on dates?

In the morning, when he’s sober, you’ll have to tell him how you feel. Or you could let him find someone more like him… ugh. It’s such a mess.

You grapple with the size of your feelings for him as he hums and laughs his way down the hall to the glass door. On the street, he squints and straightens his back, fighting to regain his arm from your hold to cover your shoulder instead. “It’s cold,” he says in surprise. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, I got my jacket. It’s a short walk, come on.”

His arm stops acting as protection and starts to use you for support. “I didn’t mean to drink so much.”

“Drowning your sorrows is always a terrible idea because it tends to work,” you lament, less scared of the dark with him at your hip, though what protection he might offer is negated by the alcohol.

“She kind of looked like you.”

You squeeze your eyes together quickly. “Oh.”

“I didn’t know she was going to. But she didn’t– she didn’t– it’s hard to talk. She didn’t listen like you do,” he says, lightly slurring, “she just stared at me like everyone used to in high school. Like she could tell there’s something wrong with me.”

“Spencer, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I know,” he says.

“Do you?”

“Yes.” He frowns. “No, I don’t know. I don’t feel like there’s something wrong with me,” —his voice turns to a nearly indistinguishable mumble— “but everyone else always does.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.”

“Is that why you make all your jokes?”

“What jokes, babe?”

“Like that! Like babe. It’s funny ‘cos you’d never date me.”

You’d slow if he weren’t already walking at a snail's pace. “That’s not true. Let’s talk about it in the morning, okay?”

“I won’t remember to ask you in the morning.”

“Spencer, you remember everything.”

He drags his feet. “I wish I wasn’t so weird,” he whines. It’s playful at the forefront but desperate otherwise, and it gives you pause. “I wish I was normal, and you could like me normal.”

You look down at your hands, panicking, a flash of Is this a good idea? like an alarm in your head as you turn on the sidewalk to face him. He’s looking at you like he’s begging you to disagree with him.

You’re happy to.

“Spencer, I like you like this,” you insist loudly. His eyes and all his sweet lashes track the movement of your hand as you touch your chest, and your neck. “You’re not normal, I’m not normal. Do you know how many times I’ve been rejected? Just for being me? I’m too bossy, too outspoken, too– too high maintenance. I've had friends with good intentions tell me I need to lower my standards, need to relax, because otherwise I’m going to end up alone for the rest of my life. I feel alone all the time.”

“But you’re perfect,” he says, puzzled.

“To you. And you’re perfect to me.” Your hand crawls to the base of your throat. “So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do. You think I’d come and get anybody else in the middle of the night dressed like this?” you ask him, gesturing to your ratty pyjamas and your dingy converse.

“You look so cute,” he says mournfully.

You roll your eyes. He’s too wasted for this conversation. “Come on, sweetheart. You can think about this too much in the morning. Let’s just get home in one piece.” Physically and emotionally.

“Can I come home with you?” he asks.

That had always been the plan. “Ask me nicely and I’ll consider it on the way.”

— —

Spencer shuts his eyes, hands itching to clap over his ears as you scratch the head of a spatula across your frying pan. “Is three eggs too many? People usually have two but that’s never enough for me.”

“I think…” Oh my god the metal screeching is so loud. “You should have as many as you want. You know your body. There’s this study on intuitive eating…” I'm too hungover for this. “Three eggs is better than two.”

“So you want three?”

He cannot eat right now. “Yes. Please.”

Spencer’s half sick with dehydration and half grief. He stayed at your house last night and he was too drunk to be nosy. He slept in your bed. He slept in your bed. He woke up to you at your vanity doing your hair, the nutty smell of hair oil mixed with the heat of the hair tool on high and realised with a start that he’d missed something he thought about all the time.

You’d tipped your head back to smile at him. “There’s my boy. Sweet dreams?”

He didn’t dream, but if he had, it would’ve been another agonising wish where you were his girlfriend, or his wife, or just there looking at him with love. He wakes up feeling sick because it isn’t true. And now you’re making him breakfast, humming a tune under your breath, sourdough sizzling under the grill and a shoddily blended avocado sitting in the bowl in front of him.

You asked him for one thing. He picks up the fork and starts to mash the avocado again. He can’t fight the foreignness of sitting in your kitchen, a gap in his memory.

He knows he told you about his date, how she looked like you, how she didn’t seem to like him much, but he’s struggling to collect the finer details. Why had you picked him up? He must’ve called you, but you could’ve said no. He remembers thinking you looked beautiful, but he always thinks that.

The avocado is making him feel sick.

“Here,” you say, sliding a plate of toast in front of him. “Do you want butter?”

“I think I'm gonna throw up.”

“You’re okay.”

“I can’t believe how I acted,” he says, pressing his palms to the hollows of his eyes.

You turn off the hob. Fat bubbles and pops until it’s cooled. The clock on the wall by the refrigerator ticks incessantly. His slept-in shirt feels too tight despite the undone button.

“Hey…” You round the island but don’t touch him, your voice gentle. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He drags his hands down his face. “I can barely remember what I said.”

“You were really nice to me… told me I looked pretty without my makeup, n’ that I was perfect. You were really nice.”

Your tone is off. No flirtatiousness, no endless confidence, you sound wistful, like you’re glad he said it. You take the bowl of avocado he’s made a mess with and put it aside with the toast, resting your arm on the counter, and leaning into his space. “Spencer, last night? You didn’t do anything to be embarrassed of. You were nice, and kind. You tried to open the car door for me and you almost lost your eye, but you were fine. You don’t have anything to be worried about, really.”

“But it’s you.”

“Gonna touch your hair,” you say, giving him enough time to move away as you reach out and rake back his fringe. His heart leaps into his mouth. “You said something last night like that, you know? Do you remember that? You said if you were normal.” You grace the skin beside his eye with the tip of your thumb, your perfume floating his way as you move. “And I said–”

“I’m not normal,” he says, remembering now.

You’re not normal, I’m not normal, you’d said.

But you’re perfect, he’d said.

To you. And you’re perfect to me.

“Right. We’re not normal, Spencer Reid, so forget that girl. She didn’t deserve you anyways,” you say.

You draw a short, silken line down his cheek with the side of your pinky. To be touched so lightly has his stomach in knots —he’s not shocked by the swiftness with which your affection can make a bad situation good again.

You turn away. “Now we should eat before everything goes cold.”

He watches your shoulders move, and he remembers one last detail. So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do.

The way you’d said it… you couldn’t really mean…

“How’s your appetite? Still feeling sick?” you ask.

Spencer smiles to himself, the ghost of your touch glowing warm on his cheek. “I’m feeling a lot better, actually.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!!! please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed, i appreciate anything and it always inspires me to write more<3!! my requests are pretty much always open for bombshell!reader (even though this one strays a bit from their usual story haha) so if you wanna see more let me know❤️

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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dreaming-medium · 6 months

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Stray Kids Kinktober Day 10

Stray Kids Kinktober Masterlist

Praise Kink - Hyunjin

Word Count: 11.7K

Summary: As a lead detective in the police department, you've been assigned to solve a serial killer case, but you've hit a point where you can no longer work on the case by yourself. Hwang Hyunjin, the golden child of the police department and your sworn rival, is assigned as your partner.

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You have officially run out of red string.

The cork board in the conference room doesn’t have any more open spaces for new leads or clues. You can’t even see the brown of the board anymore.

Instead of whittling information down, you’ve only come up with more suspects for the case.

It’s better than the case going cold, sure, but it feels like you’re getting further and further from actually solving the damn thing.

It also doesn’t help that you not only have Chief Bang breathing down your neck, but the entire city as well. You understand, really, everyone wants a killer to be caught.

But these sort of things take time.

And they usually don’t have a million and thirty leads. Typically, you were lucky to have one.

Everyone in the city has a tip. And you have to check each and every single one.

Three sharp knocks draw your exhausted attention away from the board.

“Come in!” You call out.

The door clicks open and dress shoes click on the floor.

“I think you’re going to need another cork board soon, Detective.”

Your mood curdles like milk.

“What do you want, Hwang?”

Hwang Hyunjin, the department’s top detective and your least favorite person in the world.

Every case he touches is solved. Every last one of them. But maybe— just maybe— it’s because he gets to pick and choose which ones he’s assigned to.

The golden child of the police department. The biggest, cockiest pain in the ass you’ve ever met.

He clicks his tongue and walks up to the conference table you’re leaning against.

“I have a whole new stack of tips for you.”

The sound of a thick stack of papers hits the table, you cringe.

You haven’t even finished going through the last stack.

“And I am once again humbly offering my assistance on this case.”

You look over at him for the first time tonight. His long black hair is pulled back with a few strands dangling in front of his face.

He wears a pressed dress shirt, black tie, black vest, and slacks.

Truly, it looks like he popped off a magazine cover and you hate it.

“And I am humbly declining. I can handle this on my own, thank you.”

Your own heels click along the floor as you come around the conference table to sit down in front of the first stack of papers.

Hyunjin shoves his hands in his pockets and meanders closer to the cork board.

He looks up and down all the different leads, the ever expanding list of suspects, murder weapons, locations. He’s silent for a long moment.

The only sound in the room is the clock ticking on the wall.

What time is it anyway? You’ve been here since 4 AM when a call came in about another victim. The bags under your eyes surely look like bruises at this point.

Since you started on this case two months ago there hasn’t been a single night where you’ve gotten more than five hours of sleep.

Words are blending together on the paper. Is the sun up?

Warily, you turn and eye Hyunjin, who’s still staring at the cork board. His head cocks to the side as he studies all the different clues littering the surface.

He takes a deep breath and turns to look at you. You point an accusatory finger at him.

“No! No, no. You’re not coming in here and solving my case that I’ve been working on for months!”

His mouth shuts, a smirk appears.

Oh, you want to smack it off his face.

“I was only going to say—“

“No! Nothing! I do not need your help! Get out of here!” You shoo him away.

“L/N—“ he tries again.

“Shut it!”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes and sucks his teeth while making his way to the door.

You glare daggers into the back of his head, praying that a ceiling tile will miraculously fall and crush him.

He grabs the door handle and walks into the hallway. Right before the door closes, he peeks his head in through the crack.

“The killer is ambidextrous,” he says in a sing-songy voice.

A frustrated, muted scream tears from your throat and you hurl the nearest object— which happens to be a metal cup full of pens and pencils— at the door.

It shuts before the cup makes contact.

Hyunjin’s laugh comes through the closed door and it only makes your blood boil more.

You slam your head down onto the wood desk.

“Of course he’s ambidextrous.”

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“Detective L/N,” Chief Bang’s head pokes into the conference room. “Can I see you in my office please?”

You haven’t gone home yet. You’re in the same clothes as yesterday except now they’re more wrinkled.

Nodding, you put down your pen and tell your chief you’ll be there in a minute.

He hums and leaves the room.

You rub the heels of your palms into your eyes to try and get the exhaustion out of them.

About 100 ounces of coffee is flowing through your body but it’s doing nothing to wake you up, all it’s doing is increasing your heart rate.

To anyone else who wanders through your police department, they might think you’ve escaped the morgue.

The walk to Chief Bang’s office was short.

As soon as you step inside, your heart sinks.

The chief sits behind his desk, but that’s not why your stomach turns.

Hyunjin takes up one of the chairs, another freshly pressed suit on his body.

The man is flawless and it makes you want to become a suspect for one of your cases.

“Take a seat, detective.” Chief Bang motions to the other empty chair.

Hyunjin looks up at you, arms crossed over his chest. A smug smirk pulls on his lips as he takes in your disheveled appearance.

You tongue your cheek for a moment and flip your hair over your shoulder before sitting down. Your fingers iron out deep wrinkles in your pencil skirt.

You try to maintain some level of pride. It’s comical, really.

“Now, I’ll cut right to the chase here, Y/N, it’s not that I don’t trust your abilities as a detective, I do.”

You deflate.

“But this case is becoming too much for one person.”

Your jaw clenches.

So badly you want to refute that claim, to tell Chief Bang that you have it handled, it’s no big deal. But that’s a lie and you both know it.

And the smug asshole next to you definitely knows it.

“Detective Hwang has kindly offered his assistance on the case, so I’m assigning him as your partner on this.”

You think for a moment. “Can I get a different partner? I think Detective Kim just closed his last case, meaning he’s available to help.”

“Detective Kim started a new case this morning.”

“Detective Lee?”

“Busy.”

“Officer Yang?”

“He’s not even a detective.”

“What about Detective Seo?”

Chief Bang stays silent, deadpan eyes watch you. He cocks his head to the side.

You sink back in the chair.

“I specialize in homicide cases, L/N.” Hyunjin pipes up from next to you. “I’m the best one for the case and you know it.”

“Zip it, Hwang.”

Hyunjin scoffs.

Chief Bang rolls his eyes, his patience obviously wearing thin. “Y/N, I’m going to need you to swallow your pride for the sake of the city. There’s a murderer on the loose, remember? You’re my top detectives, it would be stupid not to partner you together.”

You can’t meet his eyes, you look off to the side, crossing your arms over your chest. Anxiously, your leg begins to bounce.

“Put your personal feelings aside, Y/N.”

Silence falls over the room. Both of the men wait for you.

It really doesn’t feel like you have a choice, here. Obviously, you don’t.

“Fine.”

“Great!” Hyunjin taps his hands on the arms of the chair and then pops up. “I’m going to need access to all the files you’ve been looking at these past two months as well as the extra key to the conference room.”

He grabs his trench coat off the back of the chair.

“I’ll also need you to catch me up to speed on the latest tips from civilians; you did have time to read those last night, right? Additionally, I think we should rearrange our hours so that we’re on duty together until this is solved.”

He makes his way towards the door.

“Come on, L/N! We’ll discuss over coffee.”

You stare at Chief Bang. He offers you a slightly amused, slightly sympathetic smile.

“Best of luck, detectives.”

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The hot mug rests between both of your shaky hands. Hyunjin sat across from you in a large diner booth.

Files littered the entirety of the top of the table. It’s all things you’ve seen before and practically have memorized by now.

You explained everything you knew to him from the beginning, sparing no detail.

College girls were all found murdered in their dorms. No security footage of anyone going in or out of the building that doesn’t belong there.

Each victim is about two weeks apart.

A half eaten fruit cup sits next to your coffee. ‘Fruit cup’ is a loose term since more than half of it was honeydew melon.

Why can’t they just throw a few strawberries in there? Slice up a banana or toss a few blueberries in? They already have the fruit in the back for the pancakes, it would be so easy to—

“I don’t think this victim is from the same killer.”

Your head snaps up and you glare at Hyunjin. “Who?”

He slides the file across the table to you. “Andrea Bowman. She doesn’t fit the same profile as the other victims. All the others were blonde, Andrea has brown hair.”

You sip at your coffee, glazed eyes scanning the file. You’re simply too tired to keep up the anger.

“I had thought the same thing at first. But according to the coroner, her time of death would put her as the first victim of the killer, first victims of serial killers tend to not fit the profile of the rest since it’s the first taste.”

Her autopsy stares up at you.

“Plus, everything else is consistent with the rest, bruised wrists and ankles and a slit throat. They’re all college aged girls who went to the local community college.”

You slide the crime scene photos around, taking in all the details.

“Maybe she wasn’t his victim.” One of her school photos peeks out from the bottom of the stack, you pick it up and look at it solemnly. “But something tells me she was his first.”

Hyunjin watches you closely, any rebuttal he had died on the tip of his tongue.

Plates clatter in the kitchen.

Your nose scrunches and you pack away Andrea’s file.

“You said they all go to the same school?”

“Yeah, the community college.”

“Did they all study the same thing?”

You shake your head, taking another sip of coffee. “Nope, all different fields of study, all different extracurriculars. They didn’t even live in the same dorm building.”

Hyunjin leans back against the booth and picks up his iced coffee, taking a long sip while staring out the window.

Your fingers run through your hair. “I requested their transcripts and class schedules from every year but I’m waiting on all those requests to process. With how slow the registrar’s office is taking you would swear they didn’t want this case solved.”

“Red tape always gets in the way.” Hyunjin reaches down in his pocket and takes his phone out, tapping a few buttons and then holding it up to his ear.

You cock an eyebrow at him, he only holds up a finger at you. You scoff.

“Dianne? Hi, it’s Hyunjin!… I’m doing so well, and you? … That’s great to hear! … Yes, yes those homemade cookies were to die for.”

Your mouth falls open a bit. Who in the hell was he talking to? Homemade cookies?

Throwing your hands up in front of your face, you give him a flabbergasted look.

He narrows his eyes at you and gives you a look that says ‘be quiet’.

“Listen, I was actually calling to cash in a favor, I have a list of students I need transcripts and schedules of for a case. … I can email it over to you, it’s for the— … yes, yes that one.”

You slow blink at him. Does he have a contact at the registrar’s office? Of course he does, why wouldn’t he have one?

The golden child strikes again.

“You’re a darling, Dianne, thank you. I’ll send it to you asap. … of course, say hello to Rob for me. Bye!”

He hangs up and puts his phone back on the table.

Hyunjin takes one look at your face and shrugs. “What? I helped her with a personal matter when I was a P.I.”

If you roll your eyes anymore, they’ll go into the back of your head.

“So do you have a list—“

You interrupt him. “Yeah.”

“Can you—“

“Mhmm.”

You finish your coffee and reach into your purse, digging out a ten dollar bill and tossing it onto the table.

“Where are you going?” He asks you.

“Home,” you respond simply while shuffling out of the booth. “I haven’t slept since Monday.”

Hyunjin looks down at the various files on the table. “What about the list?”

You move the files around and pull out one of the papers and place it in front of him.

“It’s right here. I’ll see you tomorrow, Hwang.”

“Tomorrow? But what about—“

“If Dianne gets the list back to you, just forward it to me. I’ll look at it when I wake up.” Your voice is full of venom.

“I really think we should look at it together.” His eyes narrow. “We’re partners on this, remember?”

“As if you would even need my help,” you spit out. “By the time I come in tomorrow, you’ll probably have the entire case solved, the perp arrested, and all the paperwork done before I even pour my coffee.”

The more you talk, the more your anger levels rise. You lean over him in the booth, one of your hands on the back of the seat to keep you balanced.

Hyunjin’s eyes widen and he leans back as you go forward.

“The golden boy will strike again, solving a case that I’ve been working on for months and getting all the credit. Because that’s just how good you are. Mr. Perfect. Everything about you is just amazing.”

He gulps and shifts around. A red tint creeps up on his face.

And for the first time since you met him, Hwang Hyunjin is speechless. His mouth opens to say something several times but no sound comes out.

“Now. If you’ll excuse me.” You stand back up and turn on a heel, leaving the diner and a very flustered detective behind.

---------------------------------------

Knock after knock after knock after knock bangs on your apartment door.

You’re not sure of how long whoever’s been knocking has been at it, but it takes you a solid thirty seconds to wake up fully. You had peacefully drifted into a very deep sleep the moment your head hit the pillow.

The entire bedroom is pitch black, the sun no longer in the sky. The clock on your nightstand displays that it’s around 1 AM.

“What the fuck?” You slur out. It’s so hard to open your eyes right now.

The knocking persists.

With all the grace of a drunken newborn deer, you slither out of bed and make your way to your front door.

You flip on a light on your way there.

Staring through the peephole, a frown pulls at your face as soon as you see who’s banging on your door at this ungodly hour.

You rip the door open, startling Hyunjin. His hand still hangs in the air when you open it.

“Finally!” He shoves past you and into your apartment.

“No, please, come on in.” You growl and shut the door, securing all the locks in place again.

Behind you, you hear him slam a stack of papers onto your kitchen island.

“I forwarded you the transcripts hours ago but you didn’t answer.”

“I told you I would look at them when I woke up.”

He takes in your disheveled appearance with judging eyes. Your hair was all frizzy and out of place, a loose t-shirt hung off one shoulder and was so big you couldn’t see the shorts underneath.

His Adam’s Apple bobs with a swallow.

It was obvious he wasn’t used to seeing you in such a relaxed state. He was still wearing his dress pants from earlier, but he only had a dress shirt on with his trench coat over the top.

“You’re awake now, aren’t you?” He looks back down at the stack of files and opens them up, spreading papers everywhere.

You come up to the table and look down at everything.

Semesters of different class schedules stare back at you. Some have highlighted portions, others are still blank. He seems to have given up in the middle of doing it himself, opting to bring it here.

You tongue your cheek, looking over what you can see so far.

It’s going to be a long night.

“I’ll make coffee.”

---------------------------------------

Hours have passed, the sleepiness and weariness of being woken up has been replaced by the delightful thrum of caffeine in your veins.

After about a half an hour of going through the transcripts, you quietly asked Hyunjin if he was alright with you playing music softly.

He stared at you with wide eyes, “Ah, yeah, of course, that’s fine.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m just… not used to you asking for permission before doing something.”

Grumbling, you rolled your eyes and picked your phone up to scroll through playlists. You settled on a calmer one full of music from artists like Lord Huron and Tom Rosenthal.

Since then the two of you have been silently going through each schedule.

Biting the end of the highlighter absentmindedly, you study the class schedule.

“I’m only seeing one similarity.” You say out loud. Hyunjin looks up. “This one class, it’s a gen ed Physics class. But each of these girls took it, all at different times though.”

“Which class?”

“PHYS 100. Same Professor– Dr. Furon.”

“Do you think we should bring the professor in for questioning?” he asks.

“Couldn’t hurt. Right now he’s the only common denominator. Is it anywhere on your transcript?”

Hyunjin flips through the pages. “Yep, right here, her freshman spring semester back in 2020.”

You pull out a sticky note and write down that info.

“Can you go through each one and tell me when they took the course?”

Hyunjin gathers all the stapled packets of papers up. “Yeah.”

---------------------------------------

You and Hyunjin stood shoulder to shoulder looking through the one way glass.

A near ninety year old man sat on the other side.

“So,” Hyunjin says to break the silence.

“So.”

“It can’t be him.”

“Obviously.”

Another long moment of silence.

He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Do you want to question him or should I?”

You sigh, watching as the professor fidgets with a loose string on his sweater sleeve. The officers had completely forgone the handcuffs, allowing him to sit at the table freely.

They also rolled in a comfier chair and gave him a cup of coffee.

“My case. I’ll do it.”

“ Our case.”

“Shut it, Hwang.”

You make your way into the interrogation room with a notepad tucked under your arm.

The professor looks up as soon as you open the door. He shakily stands up from his seat with proper manners.

You smile gently. “Dr. Furon, thank you so much for taking the time to come down.”

Both of you shake hands before sitting down. His grip is not firm whatsoever.

Arthritis.

“Oh, it’s no matter. Happy to be of help.”

You place the notepad down and scoot your chair in. “I’ll get right to it since I can see you’ll be our best help here. When analyzing the list of victims, we saw that each of them had taken your class before. It’s a small lead, I know, but it’s too much to sweep under the rug.”

He nods, listening carefully. He blanches and leans back. “I didn’t realize I had each of them. There are so many students in each section, there’s not enough time to learn names.”

He shakes his head.

“I had recognized a few in the paper, but I try not to do too much digging, it hurts too much to look into. I don’t know how you detectives do it.”

You reach across the table and grab his hands warmly. “I feel the same way about physics, I don’t know how you do it. All those equations.”

Dr. Furon cracks a smile. “Someone has to. But I do have help with all my courses. Each student has a specific discussion section once a week with a smaller class size, but they’re all taught by graduate students.”

You jot that down on your notebook and lean your chair back. You knock once on the window.

“On it.” Hyunjin’s muffled voice comes through the glass.

“Just one more question, Dr. Furon, I won’t take up any more of your time, this has been very valuable. Are there any students or people that you come in contact with that maybe trigger some alarm bells or a gut instinct?”

He shifts around, he really thinks about it.

“I really can’t think of anything, detective, I’m sorry. The girls’ names that I recognize were normal students too, granted they weren’t the best, but I do know they were doing their very best. Breaks my heart.”

You scribble that down and stand up.

“Thank you very much for your time, Dr. Furon. We greatly appreciate your help.”

He nods and stands up as well. “Of course, if I can do anything else, please give me a call.”

“If you think of anything else, here’s my card.” You reach across the table and hand him a small business card.

You showed the professor out of the room, asking if he needed anything. He patted your arm sweetly before leaving.

When you turn around, Hyunjin is standing there, waving a file around.

You roll your eyes. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

---------------------------------------

Your apartment has become the unofficial meeting place for both you and Hyunjin once your shifts are over. The department wasn’t great for concentration.

They say not to take work home with you, but your home is so much cozier.

It’s only about 8 PM. Takeout containers take up a small portion of the kitchen island.

Another pot of coffee is brewing.

“So, between the victims, there are five different graduate students that taught their discussion sections. And one of them graduated last year.” Hyunjin flips through his notes.

You run your hands through your hair.

“So, four graduate students.”

“Yep.” He pops the ‘p’.

“Do we have any information on the four students?”

“No, but we have enough cause to bring them down to the station for questioning.”

You sigh and pick up your phone. “Let’s do that, then.”

A message is sent off to Chief Bang, he replies immediately saying he’ll contact them immediately and have them brought in and that he’ll call you when you can come in.

“I just don’t think it was any of the graduate students.” Hyunjin adds, sliding papers around to grab a victim’s file.

“I agree.”

He doesn’t seem to hear you. “Two of the graduate students are women— women don’t commit murders like this, the other two are masters in their field with promising careers.”

“I know, I agree with you, Hwang.”

“And I just don’t think that— wait, you agree?”

You stare at him with a blank expression. “Yes, I agree with you.”

He shifts around on the seat. His mouth opens and closes a few times before actually speaking. “You agree?”

Rolling your eyes, you place the papers down on the table. “Hwang, you know I would rather die than agree with you, but in this case, yes, I agree, I think you’re right.”

“Oh.”

Looking back down at the papers, you absentmindedly read a sentence in one of the witness statements. “I know you get the job done, I’m not going to put personal feelings before a case.”

Hyunjin fidgets more. “So, you think I’m a good detective?”

Is he serious?

You roll your eyes, still not looking up. “Yes, Hwang. Chief Bang has proclaimed you as one of the greatest detectives— everyone at the station knows that.”

“I just didn’t think you thought that way.”

“I’m not here to stroke your ego, Hwang.”

He clears his throat and shifts forward on his chair. “But do you , Y/L L/N, think I’m a good detective?”

Putting the paper down on the counter, you look up at him with a cocked eyebrow and a frown. “Really? Do your work.”

“Not until you say it.” He smirks and crosses his arms over his chest.

Rolling your eyes, you look down once more. What was on this page again?

“Choke.”

Hyunjin takes a breath to say something, but your phone lights up with a call at the same time. Expecting it to be Chief Bang, you answer quickly.

“Detective L/N.”

“Detective!” An old voice comes from the other line. You pull your phone back to look at the unknown number and then bring it back to your ear.

Hyunjin’s attention peaks at your confusion.

“It’s Dr. Furon, I apologize for calling so suddenly.”

“Oh, hi Doctor, it’s no trouble at all.” You look around for your notepad.

“Put it on speaker,” Hyunjin hisses while leaning forward. You shoo him off. He reaches forward to grab the phone from you, you smack his hand.

“I remembered something I didn’t get a chance to say earlier, I’m so sorry I didn’t think of it,” Dr. Furon continues.

“That’s quite alright, it’s the reason I gave you my number. Now, what is it?” You grab a pen and a random piece of paper.

Hyunjin reaches again, you smack his hand once more. “Speaker!” He grumbles again.

Dr. Furon talks, unaware of the petty brawl happening on the other line. “All of the students that are struggling in my class, I point them to the tutoring center in the library. As far as I remember, the names that were in the paper, the ones I recognize at least, they were going to the tutoring center.”

Your eyes widen and you write it down quickly.

Hyunjin’s patience wears out, he stands up from the counter and comes around to your side, his face dipping down to press his ear to the other side of the phone.

“Is there only one tutor available for your class?” you ask, jotting down notes.

“I’m not sure, I’m sorry. You know, now that I think of it, on their final exams, I give extra credit if they write down that they went to tutoring and name their tutor.”

“Do you have those exams?” Hyunjin asks into the phone. You reach over and flick his forehead. He swats your hand away.

“Oh, Detective Hwang, how are you?” Dr. Furon says politely.

“I’m doing very well, thank you.”

You go to smack him again, he once more swats your hand away.

The professor comes back to the conversation. “I have them but they’re in my office. Would you two mind coming to campus to get them tomorrow?”

“Of course,” both you and Hyunjin say at the same time.

You sneer and push his face away.

“Great!” Dr. Furon gives you all the details for tomorrow and the two of you hang up.

Placing your phone on the counter, you stand up to get away from Hyunjin.

“You could've put it on speaker.”

“You could’ve been patient!” Grabbing the nearest object— a tissue box— you hurl it at him.

Hyunjin only laughs and catches it.

“Putting more coffee on?”

“Obviously.”

---------------------------------------

“It’s the same one,” you say incredulously, flipping through the exams that Dr. Furon had given the two of you.

While you got the papers from the professor’s office, Hyunjin had gone to the tutoring center for a list of tutors. Apparently he had a connection there as well.

The two of you now sat in the conference room with your original cork board to the side. New leads and pictures right smack in the middle.

You had spent the day questioning the graduate students, but as you suspected, it was a dead end. No one knew anything.

The exams spread over the table were the best lead.

“It is,” he mutters in agreement and disbelief.

“Eric Rowan.”

“Do you think…?” Hyunjin trails off.

“I do,” you state clearly. “I really do.”

Shaking your head, you flip through the exams over and over to make sure you’re right, to make sure you’re not looking past something.

You’re not jumping to conclusions, are you?

Hyunjin suddenly stands up from the table and makes his way to the door. “I’ll have the chief get someone to bring him down to the station.”

He didn’t even give a second thought to your decision.

The door clicks after him. The silence inside the room is deafening.

It would be perfect if you could play music like you do at home.

“Eric Rowan,” you whisper solemnly.

One tutor from the library at the university.

It would make sense.

Hyunjin had managed to get Eric’s entire tutoring log, every student he’s ever tutored had been included.

You were able to highlight each and every one of the girls’ names that were victims of these heinous crimes. There were about two weeks of time between their last tutoring session and when they were found dead.

One name stuck out, one name brought you an endless sigh of relief: Andrea Bowman.

It made your skin crawl, but you instantly noticed she was the first female he tutored during his time.

Slowly, the pieces started clicking. Your throat got a bit tight, it was difficult to swallow the emotions.

You look around and grab her file underneath a huge stack. Her school picture is the top photo paper clipped on the inside.

Andrea’s smiling face will haunt you for a long time.

Hyunjin came back into the room, you didn’t look up.

“Chief just sent someone out to get him, we’re getting interrogation room two ready for him, I think that— L/N?”

Your head snaps up and you sniffle.

“Sorry,” your voice is hoarse.

He shifts his weight in the doorway. “Everything finally hitting?”

You bite your lip and look back at Andrea’s picture. “Yeah.”

Standing up from the table, you close the file and tuck it underneath a few more.

“The guy hasn’t even confessed yet, I’m getting ahead of myself here. It just makes too much sense. These girls stopped going to see him two weeks before he killed— supposedly killed them.

“It just reads so clearly. He probably made a move, they felt uncomfortable so they stopped seeing him for tutoring, he couldn’t face rejection, so he killed them. It’s fucking sick.”

You roll your shoulders and look up at the ceiling. “Am I being too hasty? It just feels right, like … like these girls are cheering for me and telling me I’m right.”

The door shuts behind Hyunjin. He weighs his words carefully and walks up to his jacket, grabbing it off the back of the chair he sat in before.

Those perfectly polished dress shoes click on the floor. It echoes off of each wall.

“There’s one thing I’ve always lacked as a detective.” He folds the trench coat over his arm and walks up to you. “It makes me so mad that I don’t have this, it would help with so many of my cases.”

You watch him warily. There’s a sad smile on his face as he takes in your frazzled mood.

You’ve never worn your heart this freely on your sleeve before.

With a sigh, he reaches up and taps on your forehead. “Women’s intuition.”

For the first time, you have no response for him.

As far as Hwang Hyunjin goes, this is the closest you’ve ever gotten to a compliment from him, or even an acknowledgment of your skill.

Your lips stay sealed.

“I’ve never not trusted your judgment. Ever. If your gut is saying this is the guy, then this is him. When have you ever been wrong?”

Your mind is reeling.

Did he just compliment you again?

Heat rises to your cheeks. Your stomach flips.

“I’ve always been so jealous of that. You just… know.” He shrugs and looks around, a small tinge of pink on his cheeks. “When the pieces finally fit into place you’re fucking brilliant at solving everything so fast. What’s that about?”

A sad laugh tumbles from his lips.

“This case would’ve taken any other team months to solve, but you and I did it in two weeks. Maybe we should work together more often, Y/N.”

There’s no way he said that.

He’s jealous of you?

And did he just call you by your first name?

He stares down at you for a couple of seconds. Maybe you were imagining it, but you could swear that his eyes flickered to your lips more than once.

“Come on then, we have an interrogation to do.”

Hyunjin turns on a heel and makes his way to the door.

“Thank you,” you call after him. Hyunjin’s hand pauses on the door handle. “Thank you, Hyunjin.”

He doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t acknowledge what you did— the favor you just returned.

He doesn’t speak on the new level that your relationship just crossed nor the mutual respect that you two just shared.

Nothing.

You don’t even get to see his face when you call him by his name for the first time.

But, by the way his shoulders square and his head twitches, you know it affected him.

Wordlessly, he nods and opens the door, leaving it open for you as he walks into the hallway and towards the interrogation rooms.

Hwang Hyunjin, the golden child of the police department, considers you to be on the same level as him. Who would’ve thought?

Maybe he’s right, maybe you should work together more often.

---------------------------------------

Hours and hours and hours have gone by.

Hyunjin as well as other officers have been grilling Eric for what seems like days. But it’s only been about 18 hours.

The bags under your eyes feel like bruises.

Three empty coffee cups and one full one sit next to you as you stare through the one way glass.

Hyunjin’s pacing around the room with his hands in his pockets.

His tie is loose around his neck, the sleeves of his button up are rolled up, his hair is tied up out of his eyes.

He’s been trying to go the good cop route for the last 3 hours. Slowly, that act has been dropping; Eric is getting on his last nerve.

You both let Eric sit in the interrogation room by himself for 4 hours leading up to this to get to his head. It didn’t seem to work. You can only legally keep him here for forty-eight hours.

If anything, he’s only gotten more agitated.

Hyunjin walks up behind Eric, he reaches one arm down to the table.

“You’ve never seen any of these girls before?” Hyunjin slides a few photos towards them on the table.

“No.” Eric answers quickly. “I’ve already told you that.”

“I just think it’s interesting you’ve never seen any of them, Mr. Rowan. You tutored them. All of them.”

“Do you realize how many students I tutor on a daily basis?”

Hyunjin barks a laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn't realize you were that popular.” He comes around the table and opens a file.

Hyunjin pulls out one specific page, and reads off the top. “Actually, here we go, I know exactly how many students you tutor. Let’s see here: ‘Eric Rowan works two days a week in the tutoring center, Tuesdays and Thursdays.’ Last week you tutored 3 students total, and they were all returning students— how interesting!”

He slams the paper down onto the metal table. Eric jumps.

“Only three returning faces to your tutoring session, Mr. Popular. And here’s the funniest thing; I’ve noticed that there’s no women on this list. Weird.”

Eric’s eye twitches.

Hyunjin takes a seat across the table, folding his hands on top of a notebook.

“Have you ever had a girlfriend before, Mr. Rowan?”

Eric scoffs and shifts around in his seat.

Your interest is piqued, you sit up straight in your chair and lean forward.

Why did he get so nervous all of a sudden?

Eric picks up the cup of water that he requested and takes a long sip from it. Hyunjin waits patiently.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant to anything, Detective.”

Hyunjin laughs and opens the file. “See, I thought you would say that. My chief also asked the same question.”

Said Chief, who has been standing behind you for the better part of 5 hours, most certainly did not ask that. Chief Bang snorts quietly at the lie.

“But you know what, we detectives have to do our due diligence.” Hyunjin opens a file and slides a large printed photo out across the table. “Recognize her?”

So many different emotions fly across Eric’s face: anger, loss, betrayal, depression, rage, hurt. The muscles in his face dance as they try to settle on an expression.

“No,” he grits out.

An obvious lie.

“Interesting.” Hyunjin pulls out another photo and slides it across. “Because just by taking a quick look at your social media profile, I can see how this girl was your girlfriend . Look, here you are together! Leah Miller. Pretty girl.”

Eric says nothing. He can’t look away from the picture.

“Most interesting part I noticed was that you haven’t posted anything with her in about a year. What happened? Breakup? They suck, hm? Sorry, should I have said ‘ex-girlfriend’ before? My bad.”

You can’t help but smile. Hyunjin’s always been brilliant in interrogations, you can’t deny that. You’ve only ever heard rumors about how he is on the other side of the one-way mirror.

Sneaking a peek at the picture of Leah Miller, your eyes widen. She fit the profile: long, blonde hair and sweet, light eyes.

More pieces fall into place.

“It’s none of your business,” Eric grits out between clenched teeth.

Chief Bang shifts behind you and grabs the back of your chair. Obviously he senses it too, a confession, a slip up, anything. It’s showing its head.

“What? What are you saying?” Hyunjin laughs. “It’s exactly my business. That’s quite literally what my job is, you know, to know your business. It’s the same reason I know that you asked out Andrea Bowman during one of your tutoring sessions and she rejected you.”

“That’s not—“

“Oh, sorry, is that not how it happened? Did you maybe try and make a move on her and she rejected you that way? Maybe you put an arm around the back of her chair? Classic.”

“I-I didn’t—“

“Not that one? Understood.” Hyunjin nods and flips through the pictures on the table. “Oh, did you use the old ‘give me your number just in case you need more help’ trick? Used that on a girl in college, myself. Of course, it worked for me.” He winks at Eric.

Eric is fuming, his face is turning redder and redder, the vein in his forehead is popping.

“Here we go,” Chief Bang whispers under his breath.

Your mouth is agape, you’ve heard about Hyunjin in interrogation rooms before but you’ve never actually seen it.

It’s like he’s dancing with fire so beautifully. He’s twirling a flaming sword with a silver tongue.

“I think Andrea rejected you and then when she never came back for more tutoring, you lost it. You looked up her campus address in the internal systems, because guess what, you have access to that as a tutor, and you went to her dorm room, and you killed her.”

“Wh-What? You’re way off base here, Detective.” Eric stutters, his eye twitches again, his leg starts bouncing under the table.

He pulls on the cuffs keeping him to the table.

Hyunjin you’re so close, come on, come on.

“Funny!” Hyunjin exclaims and slides another piece of paper across the table. “Here’s the search history in the library computer with your login credentials!”

Eric gapes, his mouth opens and closes several times.

“You know what, maybe you didn’t go to Andrea’s dorm with the idea of killing her. Maybe it was a grand romantic gesture, yeah, that seems more like it— flowers and everything.” He slams another picture on the table.

A bouquet of flowers was found at Andrea’s crime scene.

“You presented her with the flowers. And she rejected you. Again. ” Hyunjin’s voice is getting louder and louder, crescendoing with Eric’s anger and heart rate.

Your breathing picks up. Both you and Chief Bang stop moving.

“Stop,” Eric suddenly pleads. His hands shoot up to cover his ears but they’re stopped by the cuffs.

The metal clinks and pulls, they dig into his wrists.

“She rejected you twice! To your face! But you couldn’t take that for an answer. God, why did she do that? Why did she turn you down when you were just trying to be nice? ”

Hyunjin stands up slowly from the table, towering over Eric.

“She was just like her, she was just like that bitch that broke up with you? She tore your heart out and spit on it! She was no better than Leah! So, you knocked her out and you tied her down to her own fucking bed in hopes that she would just hear you out!”

“Stop, stop!”

“Because maybe if she just listened she would understand that you’re just a genuine guy trying to be a good boyfriend to someone! You’re so nice, you’re such a good guy, no one likes good guys anymore, huh? And, of course Leah didn’t see that either!”

“ Stop! ”

“She tried to scream for help, so you killed her. You slit her throat without a second fucking thought for anything! And it felt so fucking good, didnt it? It felt so good to finally take power back from her? So, you didn’t stop.”

Tears spring from Eric’s eyes as he squints them shut, his body physically curling in on itself. He writhes around, unable to get far because of the handcuffs.

“So you kept going, and you went after women who looked just like Leah. And it felt amazing because every single time you could picture her face as you slit their throats. Each and every one of them babbling for mercy, crying out for their mothers, to only choke on their own blood—“

“ FINE! ” Eric screams, slamming his fists on the table. “I killed them. I killed each and every one of the fucking bitches. And I fucking wish I could have killed her too!”

The sudden seemingly endless torrent of sentences comes to a screaming halt.

Hyunjin sits down on his chair once more with a huff.

And just like you did yesterday, he leans back on his chair and knocks once on the window.

It takes you a second to find your voice after witnessing the most amazing, jaw dropping interrogation you’ve ever seen.

“G-Got it!” You say loudly through the glass. “We got it. Oh my god!” You stand up quickly from the chair and turn around to Chief Bang, who has an equally surprised expression. “We got it! ”

He stutters for a moment and shakes his head to clear his mind before speed walking out of the side room to get officers to arrest Eric.

Eric Rowan, who is now pathetically sobbing in his chair.

Eric Rowan who signed his confession with the opposite hand that he’d been using to drink his water.

Eric Rowan who is ambidextrous.

---------------------------------------

It’s so weird to see your kitchen island devoid of files and endless stacks of papers after the last few weeks.

Eric was taken in for booking. Your job was over.

Well, it was over for now. Chief Bang gave you and Hyunjin a week off and then you’re due back in the office for the next case.

Plus, you’ll have to be at Eric Rowan’s trial since you were the lead detective on the case.

So maybe ‘over’ isn’t the best way to describe it.

More soft music plays from your speaker as you clean up the rest of the files. A large t-shirt draped over your body, it practically covers the shorts you have underneath.

There’s a couple knocks on your door. His knocks are so distinct. You’ve gotten so used to them over the past two weeks.

“Come in, Hwang!” you call out.

The door opens and shuts.

“I think I left a few things here,” he says kicking his shoes off in your entryway.

You hum in response, gathering up files to stack them neatly.

His soft footsteps pad up behind you.

“I don’t think I ever saw your countertop, is this granite?” he teases over your shoulder.

You snort a laugh. “Yeah, it is. Came with the place, so don’t ask any more questions.”

Putting the stack down, you turn around and come nose to nose with Hyunjin. He is so much closer than you thought he was.

You jump slightly and back up a bit, your hips hitting the countertop.

Hyunjin doesn’t move.

“I didn’t get to see you after the interrogation,” he says with a quieter voice.

Not able to hold his searing gaze, you look off to the side and cross your arms over your chest.

“Yeah, well, you know how the hustle and bustle can wrap someone up after a case closes. Next thing I knew, Bang was sending me home.”

Hyunjin takes a half step closer to you. “What did you think?”

“Hm?”

“What did you think of the interrogation?”

So many sarcastic, sharp retorts die on your tongue when you remember the conversation that the two of you had earlier.

But still, complimenting him was about as easy as petting a cactus.

“I told you I’m not going to stroke your ego, Hwang.”

He takes another step towards you, both of his arms come up to cage you to the counter.

Heat rises on your cheeks more and more with each passing second. You refuse to meet his eyeline.

“Humor me, L/N. How was my performance today?”

Tonguing your cheek, you roll your eyes. Your heart rate picks up at his proximity. Why does he smell so good?

The last time the both of you had an opportunity to shower was two days ago.

He still smells like aftershave and expensive cologne.

“It was good, okay? You got the guy.”

“ We got the guy, L/N.”

“Yeah, yeah, golden boy, we got him.”

He knows your sarcasm is empty. Just by looking at your flushed face he can tell you don’t mean it.

“Come on now, L/N.” Long, lithe fingers grip your chin and turn your head towards him. “You can do better than that.”

Your jaw clenches. Arousal shoots down your spine like an electric shock.

Fuck.

Closer and closer his alarmingly handsome face inches closer to yours. The beauty mark under his eye seems more prominent than ever.

His mind is one of a brilliant detective, but god, that face. He should’ve been a model.

You bite the inside of your cheek and when you try to look away from his deep eyes, the grin on your jaw tightens.

“Come on, L/N.” He smirks. “Tell me how good I did today. Say it.”

The brat inside you decides to surface. So, he wants to go this route, hm? “Why do you need me to say it so badly, Hwang? Everyone else in the department is so far up your ass, they can wear you like a hat.”

He rolls his eyes, his body pressing against you entirely. Your arms uncross and you reach back to grip the countertop next to his hands.

It shouldn’t feel as good as it does. You should be shoving him away, slapping him across the face, spitting on his shoes. But instead you relish in the feeling.

“Yes. But they’re not you. ”

Your eyes widen and the corner of his mouth twitches. He knows he has you in the palm of his hand. He just needs to break you more.

But does he really?

Finally, he brings his lips closer and closer to yours. He pauses right before he makes contact, giving you a chance to say no.

Nothing of the sort tumbles out.

The first kiss he presses to your lips is nothing short of devouring.

His soft, plush lips consume yours like he’s a starving man at a feast. You meet his enthusiasm with fervor.

Hyunjin’s head tilts to get better access to your mouth. His eyebrows pull together in concentration, he almost looks like he’s in pain.

The fingers on your chin move down to your neck, he wraps his hand around it, thumbs on top of your pulse point, but he doesn’t squeeze.

Your hands tentatively reach for him, grabbing at his dress shirt and tie, pulling him even closer to you.

A small moan comes from the base of his throat and through his nose. Hyunjin’s other hand grabs your hip possessively.

“Say it, L/N,” he hushes between kisses, completely out of breath. “Tell me how good I am.”

How is it that he has this sort of possessive grip on you and yet he’s putting the ball in your court?

A small boost of confidence courses through your veins.

“Can’t you just admit it already?” he adds.

Smirking, you say nothing. One of your hands threads into his long hair and yanks his face back to yours for another bruising kiss.

He huffs through his nose once more, but kisses you nonetheless.

Twirl after twirl of his tie around your hand tightens your grip. With the last tug, Hyunjin moans once more into your mouth. The hand on your throat squeezes a bit.

“L/N,” he pleads again against your lips.

You tug hard on his tie. Hyunjin loses his balance slightly, his knuckles turning white from grabbing your countertop so tight.

Bringing your lips to his ear, you blow hot air on the sensitive skin first. He shivers against your hot body.

At the same time, your bare foot travels up the back of his clothed calf, your thigh brushing against his hip.

“If you want my approval that badly, you’re going to have to earn it.”

Hyunjin makes a choked moan, “Fuck,” he whispers under his breath. The hand on your hip tightens. The fingers wrapped around your throat twitch.

“How does that sound, Hwang? You be good to me and I’ll let you know how well you’re doing.” You roll your hips against his.

Your words have an obvious effect on him, the hardness that presses to your leg says it all.

Hyunjins lips drop down to your neck, he bites the soft skin where it meets your shoulder. “Fucking hell, L/N, don’t play hard to get.”

Humming, you roll your head back, enjoying the sensation of his mouth on your skin. “I’m not playing anything, I already told you how to get what you want.”

Licking and sucking his way down your neck, his teeth nip at your exposed collarbone. The hand on your throat slides backwards and into the hair on the back of your head.

Your bottom lip pulls between your teeth to stop a moan from leaking out. You pull Hyunjin’s tie to keep his face there.

“Just like that, golden boy, your mouth feels so good.”

His hips involuntarily buck into yours at the praise, he whimpers against your skin. “ Shit, ” he curses into your neck with a hot exhale.

You wrap your entire leg around his waist and roll against him more. His mouth stutters, but afterwards he sucks hard . A bright purple hickey already surfaces when he detaches.

“L/N,” he murmurs into your neck. You hum in response. “Can I take this off?” He tugs at your shirt.

You smirk. “You can.”

When your hand unwinds from his tie, Hyunjin backs off of you. His face is already so fucked out; eyes are half-lidded and hazy, his lips are so puffy and swollen, spit glistening off them in the soft kitchen light.

From all your pulling, Hyunjin’s hair is all askew and coming out of its usual ponytail.

He wastes no time, grabbing the hem of your t-shirt and yanking it over your head, he throws it behind him carelessly. His eyes light up at the sight of your bare chest, tongue poking out to lick his already slick lips.

You chuckle.

“You gunna touch me or what?” you tease. “Or maybe you don’t want it that badly.”

Hyunjin’s jaw clenches and he meets your eyes. The look he’s giving you is dangerous.

He huffs once and grabs your waist tightly, lifting you up off the ground and sitting you on the cold granite. The sharp temperature change against your flushed skin makes you shiver.

Hyunjin parts your legs and stands between your thighs, his head dips down and envelopes one nipple in his mouth.

“Fuck!” you cry out, grabbing a fist full of his hair.

One of Hyunjin’s hands trails up your leg to grab at your exposed thigh while the other comes up to play with your other perky bud.

His eyes shut in his own pleasure. That tongue is absolutely relentless, licking circles around your nipple to flick over it a few times and then sucking.

Your toes are already curling, legs wrapping around his waist to get him closer to you.

“How about now, L/N?” his hoarse voice whines against your spit covered chest. “Is this good for you? Does it feel good?”

The more he talks, the more you can’t tell if he’s teasing you or genuinely asking for his own sanity.

“It feels fucking amazing, Hwang, keep– shit – keep going.”

Hyunjin takes in a shaky breath and switches sides, your fingers yank on his hair and he whines again around your nipple.

You let him continue for a while, relishing in the feeling of his spit dripping down your chest and onto your navel. The wet licks and sucks bouncing off the walls combined with his own small whines and your loud moans.

Roll after roll of your hips grinds against his hard tent in his dress pants. After a few minutes, your hips seem to have a mind of their own, your soaking wet cunt seeking friction against anything to satiate the need for contact.

The more he licks at your chest, the more Hwang Hyunjin continues to drive you insane.

“H-Hwang,” you pull his attention. His eyebrows furrow as you yank him away from your purple marked chest.

When he finally detaches, he looks up at you, panting.

“Touch me, touch me, please . I can’t fucking take it.”

His shoulders curl forward like you knocked the air out of him.

With more strength than you thought he had, he scoops you up and wraps your legs around his waist while smashing your lips together again.

You cling onto him for dear life while letting your tongues slide over one another.

“Hah,” you pant out in between kisses. “You’re doing so fucking well.”

He whines.

“Could’ve made me cum with just that tongue on my tits. Such a shame.”

Hyunjin drops your body onto the couch without a warning. You squeal and bounce on the soft cushions.

“Hwang–” your voice dies in your throat when you catch the sight of him standing on the other side of the sofa arm.

The change in his demeanor gives you whiplash.

His eyes are dark, almost black. His chest is heaving with heavy pants. Those long fingers are tugging at his tie, until it's loose enough for him to rip off his neck.

Your knees tuck up a bit towards your chest as you watch him with wide eyes like prey.

Hyunjin reaches down and snatches your ankle, he tugs on it harshly. You yelp as you’re dragged forward into a lying position.

Coming around the sofa, he swings one knee over you to straddle your hips. One by one he begins to unbutton his dress shirt, never once breaking eye contact.

Each sliver of skin that is revealed is devoured by your eyes greedily. Never once has he so much as undone the top button on his collar at work.

Shamelessly, you rake in his athletic build.

“You want to cum with just my tongue? Okay, L/N, I can do that.”

Your heart thuds in your chest.

He shrugs his shirt off and drops it to the floor. Hands grab at the waistband of your shorts and yank them off with your panties in one swoop. Another article of clothing to hit the floor.

The cold air against your soaking wet folds makes you hiss slightly.

Hyunjin stares down at your arousal, biting his bottom lip. Lower and lower he descends until you can feel his heavy exhales against your cunt.

He pushes your thighs apart, putting one over his shoulder, your heel settles into the dip of his spine. He’s smirking the entire time.

Finally, he tears his eyes away from your folds to look you right in the eye.

Your jaw clenches and you watch as he licks all the way from your entrance, up to your clit, circles around it to go back down to your entrance again.

An immediate shockwave of pleasure shoots through your body down to your toes. You toss your head back with your mouth agape, a silent scream stretching your lips.

Hyunjin keens at your reaction, doing the same maneuver again before focusing his attention on creating the most sinful figure eights with his tongue.

Your hand flies down to grab at his hair, shoulders arching off the couch. “Shit, shit, H-Hwang, feels so– hah – s-so good.”

He moans into you, the vibrations go right through you.

With your heel on his back, you can feel how his back curves as his hips rut into the couch underneath him to relieve some pressure off his aching cock.

Praises fall from your lips like water falling over rock. Each one makes Hyunjin whine and kick it up a notch.

“That fu- uh -cking silver tongue, holy shit .”

Hyunjin moans loudly, he grabs both of your hips, nails digging into your skin with deep scratches. It only makes you cry out louder, pulling on his hair even harder.

The tie in his hair comes out completely. You toss it away from you and gather up his hair in between your fingers to keep it out of his eyes. It feels like silk.

A coil within you begins winding tighter and tighter. The more he licks and sucks, the higher your cries get and the tighter your abdomen feels.

“Feels so good, it feels fucking amazing ! S-So close! Shit, please make me cum, please, shit!”

Each word makes Hyunjin sutter and moan into your folds, his eyebrows pulled like he’s in pain. Harder and harder he ruts into your sofa, his nails digging into you so much you think he might draw blood.

It’s taking every ounce of his will not to spill out in his pants at your praise. At your begging .

One of his hands comes up and kneads at your chest. His thumb rubs over your nipple a few times and that’s all it takes for the band within you to finally snap.

Your orgasm washes over you so hard it’s like being hit by a bus.

With a silent cry, your entire body tenses up. Hyunjin’s movements slow down, but he still coaxes you through your climax with that skilled tongue of his.

He hums into your folds, licking up every last drop of your juices.

You come down from your high slowly, chest heaving up and down, every exhale is paired with a moan. Shockwaves still ripple through your thighs.

Hyunjin’s eyes open and he stares at you, his mouth going over to bite your inner thigh. You squeal and squirm.

Slowly, like a lion, he gets up and crawls over your form, keeping eye contact. Once he’s close enough, he captures your lips greedily. Your arousal is still all over his tongue. It’s swapped between the two of you with your spit.

Your hands reach down and fumble with his belt buckle. Hyunjin makes no move to stop you, instead, he pushes you further.

“Look at that,” he pants, looking down at your fumbling hands. “So desperate for my cock, huh, L/N?”

Your eyebrow twitches. You undo the buckle and reach down to grab his rock hard erection through his pants.

Hyunjin’s elbows buckle at your touch and he grunts, squinting his eyes shut.

“All talk, aren’t you? Once I touch you, you crumble .”

“Shit!” His eyes snap open and he bucks into your hand. “Because– ugh –, like I said, it’s you . Fuck ,” he moans when you squeeze him again over his pants.

“Keep going,” you tease. “Keep going and I’ll keep stroking this fucking monster cock you keep tucked in these pressed dress pants of yours.”

He exhales shakily while you unbutton his trousers.

“When were you ever going to fucking– agh – realize that you drive me fucking insane, L/N?” His eyes start to unfocus when you push down the waistband of his pants and boxers down his thighs.

Fucking hell . Has he always been packing this?

“God damn, Hwang.” Your hand runs up his length. Hyunjin shudders and closes his eyes. Your touch is so featherlight he thinks he’s going insane.

His eyebrows twitch and hips buck forward to try and reach your touch.

“I’m not hearing a lot of talking.” You lean up and attach your lips to his neck, continuing to only trail the gentlest of touches up and down his throbbing cock.

The head is red and angry and weeping precum.

His body trembles. “ Shit – I wanted you for so long, L/N. You drive me– fuck – insane. Every single fucking day I did whatever it fucking took to get your attention.”

Finally, your hand wraps around his length tightly and you start pumping very slowly. The long, pathetic moan that tumbles from Hyunjin’s lips is something of sin.

He sounds so relieved yet even more aroused at the same time.

You continue to suck your own marks onto his perfect skin. Sweat drips down the side of his face and down his now slick back.

“ Ughhh – L-L/N…” He buries his face in the crook of your neck.

Your hand stops moving when he stops talking.

He cries out into your neck, hips frantically bucking into your touch to chase it. You only chuckle in response.

“ Please! ” He whimpers.

“Keep going then, golden boy.” You suck a sensitive spot underneath his ear.

Another stutter of his hips.

“I begged the chief to put me on your case!”

Your pumping picks up speed again, his entire body rolls into yours. You grip him tighter and jerk him faster.

“I said– ah – I would do whatever case he wanted next if he– ffuuck – let me work with you on this one– oh my god! And I still would, I would do whatever– mmmph – case I need to to fucking work with you every day. Agh! ”

Despite your outwards nonchalant expression, on the inside, his words are fucking killing you. The throb in your cunt that was satiated moments ago comes back with a vengeance.

To hear Hwang Hyunjin at your mercy is going straight to your core. Each noise he makes goes straight to your pussy.

“God, fuck , L/N, I-I’m close. Please, god , shit.”

After a few more pumps, you stop, taking your hand away completely. Hyunjin cries into the crook of your neck again, his body rolling and rutting the air at the loss of contact.

“Please, why, fucking hell , I was so close!”

You grab the hair on the back of his head and yank his head up to look down at you. His eyes are cloudy, ears and cheeks bright red. Sweat drips down the side of his face and over his sharp cheekbones and jawline.

“Wouldn’t you rather fuck me?”

His face twists up with another moan.

Hyunjin dives down and captures your lips in the sloppiest kiss of the night. He’s messy and desperate the longer he kisses you.

While trying to stay attached to your lips, Hyunjin fumbles around to kick off his pants and boxers.

Both of you finally naked together, he grabs his cock in his fist.

“I-I’m not going to last–”

You cut him off with a sharp tug to his hair. “Fuck me, golden boy, don’t you think you deserve it after today?”

His eyes practically roll back in his head.

As soon as he’s lined up with your entrance, Hyunjin slides into you slowly. Inch by inch you’re stretched open,

He might not be thick but god, he is long .

With his mouth on yours, he swallows each moan and cry of pleasure. Without wasting any amount of time, he pulls out to slam back into you.

Both of you moan out together.

Your arm wraps around his neck. He rests his weight on one elbow and the other wraps around your shoulders to hug you close to him. His hand splays out between your shoulder blades to keep you anchored against his sweat slicked chest.

The skin to skin contact sends both of you wild.

Over and over again his hips undulate to thrust into you in the most delicious way. The angle of his hips brushes his pelvic bone against your clit with each slam against you.

“You feel so fucking good,” you whine into his ear.

Hyunjin’s next thrust hits a bit harder. If praise makes him fuck you harder, then so be it.

“God, your cock is amazing.” Harder. “Hitting me just right.” Harder. “Never knew you would feel this fucking good.”

With his mouth on your neck, he leaves sloppy hickeys wherever he can reach. His pants fill the room and mix with your whines.

His head suddenly dips down to take your nipple into his mouth once more. You keen and toss your head back, hips canting up. The new angle has his cock slam right into your g-spot.

A loud scream tears from your lips. Hyunjin immediately picks up on this and picks up the pace, making sure he hits that spot every time.

If you thought your first orgasm had a sudden build up, it’s nothing compared to this one. There’s a sudden pressure increasing in your lower stomach.

“Fuck!” Thrust . “So good!” Thrust. “Oh my god!”

Praises and noises fall from you, you don’t even realize what you’re saying anymore. The pleasure has your mind in the clouds.

“Y/N,” the sudden use of your name grabs your attention. Hyunjin comes up over your face with a pleasure twisted face.

“Say it, please, please , I’m fucking begging you , please, say it.”

Your eyebrows pull together, mouth still hanging open. What does he want you to say that you haven’t said already?

“ My name. Say it, please, please, please, please–”

Oh, fuck.

You smirk and watch as the desperation drives him wild. Even in the deepest throes of pleasure, you string him along for a few more seconds as you approach the edge.

Closer and closer you come to the edge.

He whines, begging louder and louder as his own climax creeps up on him, the muscles in his body tightening more and more.

He needs it so bad.

“Y/N! Please! ”

Just as you’re about to tumble over, your mouth stretches open.

“Fuck, Hyunjin! ”

The loudest moan you’ve ever heard from a man comes falling out of his mouth as he buries his face into your neck. Hot, sticky warmth shoots within you in long, drawn out spurts that match with Hyunjin’s whines and groans.

His hips stutter for another twenty seconds before his moans finally calm down.

Both of you hold onto each other tightly, heaving heavy inhales and exhales to catch your breath.

Absent-mindedly, your hand begins to rub up and down Hyunjin’s clammy back, drawing small circles and lines onto his skin.

He hums into your neck and holds you closer for a moment before collapsing onto the couch on top of you.

Surprisingly, his weight on top of you doesn’t seem to phase you; instead it brings the same comfort as a weighted blanket.

After a few more minutes of you silently rubbing his back, Hyunjin begins to lazily press kisses onto your bruise covered chest, paying extra attention to your collarbones.

The kisses are soft and sweet, nothing like the lust coated ones from before.

“Did you mean it?” you ask him quietly.

He pauses his kisses only to answer you. “Mean what?” He starts kissing you more.

“That you asked Bang to work on the case.”

He chuckles against your neck, his hair tickling your skin. “Oh, yeah. It took entirely too much convincing.”

You laugh with him and keep him close to your body.

In the back of your mind, you know you should get up, that he should pull out and the two of you should shower and drink water, but you can’t seem to distance yourself from him.

There’s no harm in sitting there for a while anyway.

Hyunjin hums into your neck again, “Thank god we have the week off.”

You couldn’t agree more.

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x y/n #hwang hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut #stray kids x y/n #skz x y/n #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic

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lnfours · 9 months

Text

welcome home | l.n

summary: he finally asks you to move in with him

warnings: fluff, fluff and more fluff. i need him so bad.

masterlist | ask box

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

the sun shining through the curtains is what woke lando up, the smell of your perfume engulfing him when he lazily threw the pillow from your the other side of the bed. he had tried to go back to sleep, but failed. so, he threw the covers off his legs with a soft sigh, getting up and looking around the room for any sign of you, but you weren’t there. only your things remained on the dresser, your clothes folded in a pile on the top.

when he walked into the bathroom, your toothbrush was sitting next to his in the cup, your face wash and hair brush on the counter next to your overflowing makeup bag. he didn’t mind the mess. actually, he liked when you left things around. it gave the other wise empty apartment life. it was like you were leaving your own personal touches throughout his home, and he couldn’t help but smile at every single one.

the towel you had used to shower that morning was sitting on the rack, still damp. your shampoo, conditioner and body wash sitting on the built in shelf. it pulled at his heartstrings to see it, how he wished the things would find a permanent place rather than a temporary one every few weeks.

as he brushed his teeth, he racked his brain trying to think of where you had gone, but remembered that you mentioned something about getting brunch with a few friends. he had hoped you were having fun, much needed ‘girl time’, but all he wanted to do was crawl back into bed with you and continue the show the two of you had started the weekend before.

despite his feelings, he finally wandered into the kitchen. he smiled softly at the coffee cup sitting in the sink, the white mug stained with your lipstick on the rim. he could picture you fixing your lipstick in the mirror before walking out the door in a hurry, because you were almost always running late.

he made himself a cup of coffee, sitting down on the couch and scrolling through his phone. he saw that you had posted on your instagram story about an hour ago, a picture of you and your friends in the mirror of the bathroom at the cafe downtown.

girls day <3

his heart almost leapt into his throat at how brightly you were smiling. he caught himself smiling back at the photo, your smile being too infectious. he couldn’t help himself as he slid up on the picture, typing back a response.

can i be invited next time? i’m one of the girls 😕

he watched as your icon appeared in the chat, your side illuminating with the ‘typing…’ in the lower corner.

i think the girls would disagree, hun. i’ll be home soon, and then i’m all yours 🤍

he smiled softly, double tapping the message.

deal. have fun, baby ❤️

you double tapped his message in return and he swiped out of instagram, checking his email. when it was done refreshing, only one had caught his eye. he placed his coffee down on the table in front of him as he turned his entire focus to reading the email.

dear mr. norris,

i’d like to congratulate you as your offer for the home on willow lane has been approved! i’ll be in contact soon to talk about settlement and move-in dates.

in all, congratulations on being a homeowner! look forward to speaking with you!

best wishes,

sam parker

keller prime realty

“no way, mate!” he laughed softly.

max had decided to come downstairs at that exact time, “you alright?”

he nodded at his friend, “remember that house i showed you? the one i said i was debating on putting an offer on?”

max nodded, “yeah, what about it?”

“well, i may or may not have put an offer on it,” lando continued, “and it may or may not have gotten approved.”

max smiled, patting his best friend’s shoulder, “congrats, mate. when do you and y/n move in?”

lando’s face fell and max rolled his eyes, “you haven’t asked her yet? you literally just bought the house and you still haven’t asked her?”

lando bit down on his bottom lip, “it’s not that i don’t want to, it’s just, i don’t know if she’s on the same page. i mean, she spends the weekends here, but whenever i wake up on sundays she’s normally about to leave.”

max shook his head, “or what if it’s because you never told her how much you like her staying here? i mean, sure we both know you love having her without saying anything, but maybe she just needs that reassurance.”

lando nodded, catching onto what his best mate was on about, “and i haven’t reassured her…”

“right,” max nodded, “now you get it.”

“so, what? i’m just supposed to be like ‘hey, i love having you here so much that i bought a house for us to move into, if you want’?” lando joked, taking a sip from his mug.

max rolled his eyes, “not exactly like that, you div.”

the door opened and you smiled as you kicked your heels off by the door, the two boys’ eyes landing on yours, “hey,”

“hey,” max smiled.

lando smiled at you as your feet padded against the hardwood floor heading towards the kitchen, your keys and purse hanging on the hooks by the door, “how was brunch?”

“good,” you nodded, placing the white takeout box on the shelf in the fridge, “they had really good matcha lattes, i think you would’ve liked it.”

lando hummed, “maybe we can go sometime soon.”

you nodded, plopping next to him on the couch, chin leaning on his shoulder, “sounds good, baby.”

lando smiled and leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips. you smiled into the kiss as max groaned, which only made you pull lando closer by his hoodie. you laughed when max fake gagged and got up from his seat, the both of you breaking apart and laughing as he made his way back up the stairs, “yep, that’s enough. sick of you two swapping spit near me.”

“cheers, mate,” lando called back up the stairs before looking over at you. you smiled at the brunette.

“what?”

he shook his head, “just thinking.”

your eyes found the curl that had fallen out of place, your fingers moving to brush it back, “about what?”

“how much i love having you here,” he said and your lips turned into a smile, “i have someone to annoy max with now.”

you giggled, “that’s my favorite pastime and you know that.”

he smiled, nodding, “i do.”

there was a moment of silence before he spoke up again, “do you like coming here?”

you furrowed your eyebrows, “of course i do. what makes you ask?”

he took in a deep breath before looking back at you, “i bought a house.”

his words came out all of a sudden and you looked at him confused, “you… bought a house?”

he nodded, swallowing before he continued, “for us.”

your heart skipped a beat as he looked down at you, softly smiling, “i found the perfect house, and i put an offer on it and it was accepted. i know i should’ve told you, but, i really really want you to move in with me. like yesterday,”

you laughed softly as he smiled, “when did you put an offer on it?”

“a few weeks ago,” he said, “i know i should’ve told you, but when i say it’s perfect it’s literally perfect. everytime i look at it i just keep seeing you dancing around the kitchen or us watching a movie in the living room, i don’t know…”

you placed your hand on his cheek, “i love you,”

he smiled back, “i love you, too,” his nose brushed against yours, “will you please move in with me.”

you brushed through the curls on the nape of his neck, biting down on your bottom lip as you tried your best to hold back the smile threatening to breakout on your face, “since you asked so nicely.”

he snorted before kissing you sweetly, pulling you into his lap. you giggled as he held you close, your arms wrapping around his neck.

“do you have any pictures?” you smiled against his lips. he nodded, reaching between the two of you before fishing his phone from the pocket of his hoodie. you watched as he pulled the listing up on his phone, a smile on his face as he handed it to you.

as you scrolled through the pictures and smiled about all the little things he had thought you’d like about the house, all he could think about was what you would look like in a white dress.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader imagine #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fluff #lando norris x you #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris fic #lando norris x reader fluff #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff #formula one #formula 1 #formula 1 fluff #formula 1 imagine #fluff

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fetusgooseandjuice · 5 months

Text

Trust Me

Pairing(s): Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: You haven’t been able to sleep in a couple weeks, and Natasha knows just the way to get you to close your eyes.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: None? (If anyone finds any feel free to message me!)

Author’s Note: Heyy guys! I know I haven’t posted a fic in like 6 months, but I got writers block and it just never really went away. I’m not sure when I’ll post again, but I’ve had the idea for this fic for a while and I finally got the motivation to write it. It might not be that good but I hope you enjoy it at least a little! Think of it as a little Christmas gift :)

Author’s Note Pt. 2: Also, this is not proofread because I just wanted to get it posted so there might be some spelling and grammar errors!

You heavily sighed once again for probably the fifth time in the past five minutes. It’s been a few hours since you and Natasha had called it a night, and yet here you were at nearly three in the morning still lying wide awake.

Although it’s not as if you were surprised or expecting anything else. You’d been having trouble falling asleep since the first night you and Natasha arrived in Norway.

Despite not having gotten many hours of sleep lately, for some reason you still weren’t tired and still could not fall asleep.

When your girlfriend came to you a week and a half ago and told you she had no other choice but to leave the states in order to evade the government after the whole incident between Tony and Steve, you instantly decided you’d be going with her without a second thought and left no room for her to disagree.

After all she should’ve known you’d follow her anywhere, but you guess it’s taken a toll on you.

You wanted to sleep, and yet you weren’t sure what was keeping you up. Maybe you were worried about something happening to Natasha?

‘What if she gets caught? Or what if we both somehow get hurt?’ you thought.

But you knew she was more than capable of taking care of herself and keeping you safe at the same time.

Even with the amount of times you told yourself not to worry, your mind wouldn’t listen.

You eventually sighed and turned your head to look at the redhead behind you. Her arms were wrapped tightly around you and no matter how much she shifted throughout the night, she never let you go.

The mere thought of that would be enough to bring a smile to your face if you weren’t so frustrated with yourself.

Deciding you’d had enough of laying there awake, you carefully unraveled your girlfriend’s arms from around you and slid out of bed.

You almost shivered at the cool temperature of the trailer as your bare feet touched the floor and you made your way into the kitchen.

The random plastic bags on the counter rustled as you rummaged through them in search of something to snack on, finally coming across a bottle of water and a pack of chips you’d never heard of.

As you went to open the cap of the bottle, a pair of arms slipping around your waist startled you. The yelp you let out made the person behind you chuckle, and you relaxed recognizing the sound.

“Sorry, malysh (baby).” Natasha said and you turned to look at her to see the apologetic look she had on her face.

You gave her a slight smile before shaking your head, “It’s okay. But what’re you doing up right now, Nat? You should be asleep, you need to rest.”

She dipped her head down to press multiple kisses to the skin of your neck, “I could ask you the same question because so do you.”

You should’ve known you wouldn’t be able to leave the warmth of your shared bed without her noticing.

“I just couldn’t sleep.” you said, making her eyebrows furrow as you opened your water bottle and took a sip. “But I know you’re still tired so you should go back to bed, I’ll be there soon.”

“No, not without you.” Natasha was quick to disagree, “What’s going on, dorogaya (darlin)? You were yawning quite a bit before we went to bed. Why can’t you sleep?” she rested her chin on your shoulder, ready to listen to what you had to say.

You sighed realizing that you were going to have to have this conversation now. Your shoulders shrugged, “I don’t know.” was all you offered.

Natasha stayed quiet, giving you the floor for when you were ready to add on. A moment later, you did.

“I haven’t really gotten any decent sleep recently, so I’m not sure why I can’t fall asleep or why I’m not tired.”

Your girlfriend pecked your shoulder blade, acknowledging that she heard you.

“How long has this been going on for?” she asked.

For a second you went quiet, not exactly wanting to answer when you remembered that now that she knew, she wasn’t going to let it go until she made it better.

“Since we left the states.” you admitted.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Once again, you shrugged your shoulders, “I didn’t want to worry you.” you said. “You already have a lot on your plate with this whole situation and I didn’t want to add more to it.”

You heard Natasha sigh and now you appreciated that fact that you weren’t standing face to face at the moment.

“I guess I’m thinking too much.” you added. “At night I finally get the time to actually think about stuff, and I worry about you and if you’re going to be okay.”

Natasha was also glad you weren’t standing face to face right now because if you were, you would’ve seen the way her lips pulled into a smile.

“Well if you’re going to worry about me then I think I have every right to worry about you.” she chuckled and you fought back a smile at it.

“I’m sorry.” you said.

She didn’t say anything for a few moments until you heard her soft voice with that hint of rasp speak up.

“Look at me, krasivyy (beautiful).”

You craned your neck to see green eyes which were filled to the brim with love and tenderness staring at you, the singular warm light above the kitchen sink allowing her to see your sad ones.

The frustration that’d been building up in you beginning to melt away ever so slightly.

“I want you to talk to me about what you’re going through.” Natasha spoke. “I don’t care about what you think I might have going on, you’re always my first priority, okay?”

You nodded as she raised a hand to caress your cheek, brushing a hair behind your ear in the process.

“I love you too much to have you worrying that pretty little head of yours all alone when I’m always right here for you.” she pressed her lips to your temple to emphasize her point. “So promise me next time you’ll tell me if somethings wrong?”

“I promise, and I love you too, Nat.”

“Good,” Natasha smiled and leaned in to connect your lips in a loving kiss, pulling away shortly after and leaning her forehead against yours. “I’m going to be okay, so there’s no need to worry. We’re both gonna be okay, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. You knew Natasha would make sure of that.

“Alright, do you think you’re ready to head back to bed?”

You weren’t sure how to answer that. Even though you were relieved Natasha knew now and you talked about it, you still weren’t even close to being able to go to sleep.

“No,” you spoke quietly. “I’m still not really tired, and I honestly don’t know if I will be until this all blows over.”

Natasha went silent for a few moments, thinking. She turned you around to face her and moved your arms to wrap around her shoulders.

“Nat, what are you—”

“Shhh,” she interrupted your sentence, “Just trust me.”

So you did.

Her arms snaked back around your waist and pulled you into her. You weren’t exactly sure what she was doing until she began swaying with you from one side to the other.

You’d danced together before, but at Tony’s many parties. Not when you were trying to make yourself fall asleep.

“Nat, I don’t think—”

“You’re supposed to be trusting me. Do you not?”

“I do, but—”

“So shhh,” she said and you couldn’t help the little giggle you let out. “You said you were thinking too much, right?”

“Yeah.” you confirmed.

“So just relax and let me do all the thinking. I don’t want you to worry about anything except trusting me.”

“Okay.” you whispered, giving in and resting your cheek on her shoulder, allowing her to move you.

A few seconds later Natasha began humming. It wasn’t a song that you knew, but you recognized it as one of the many Russian lullabies she’s hummed and sometimes sang to you before.

The way she hummed them always made you feel relaxed and peace, and this time was no different. Because soon you started to lean into her more as you became more and more weary.

Your heavy eyelids fell shut and your head found security in her neck as you cuddled closer to it, happily letting her comforting scent soothe you.

After a couple of songs, Natasha finally looked at you to find you pretty much sound asleep.

She grinned to herself and pecked your head before lifting you into her arms, making her way back to your bedroom.

“Told you to trust me.”

~ end ~

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha marvel #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff mcu #natasha fanfic #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha x you #natasha x y/n #natasha alianovna romanova

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parkerslatte · 3 months

Text

Overlooked | Part Five

Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: none

Summary: The day has arrived for Y/N and Eris to get married and she gets nervous that her sisters won’t show up.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

The day began with Y/N waking up early, not from excitement but from nervousness. She had reluctantly left the warmth of Eris’s arms and sat in front of her dresser. It was her wedding day, Y/N knew that she should be over the moon but the overwhelming feeling of dread threatened to take over.

When Y/N pictured her wedding when she was younger, she always imagined her three younger sisters walking down the aisle before her before she stepped out in her magnificent dress prepared to greet her soon to be husband. Now she was not even sure her sisters would show up for her wedding.

“What are you doing over here?” Eris’s sleepy voice interrupted her thoughts. “We still have a few hours in bed before we need to wake.”

“You can go back to bed,” Y/N said. “I can’t really sleep.”

“You aren’t having second thoughts, are you?” Eris asked, his tone teasing but once he caught a glimpse of Y/N’s saddened expression, his smile dropped. “Do you still want to marry me?”

“Of course I do!” Y/N exclaimed. “I just…it’s just hard. Not knowing if my sisters are going to show up.” Eris perched himself on the stool next to Y/N, his arm wrapping around her waist to keep the both of them on it. “I am marrying the love of my life, I should be happy but if I walk down that aisle and see that they aren’t there, I will feel…betrayed, if that is even the right word for it. I know that we were not the closest but they are still my sisters. We should always stand by one another.”

Eris pulled her closer and pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “My dear, if they don’t show up, then it's a huge reflection on them and their personalities. If they do not show up then they do not deserve your love. Because I know how much you love and I have seen how it sometimes hurts you.”

Y/N allowed her head to fall upon his shoulder. “I just really want them there, Eris.”

“From your last conversation, do you believe they will?” Eris questioned.

“I honestly do not know,” Y/N exhaled. “My sisters seemed eager to get back to the Night Court so I can only hope that they talked to the others about the conversation we had, but I know how easily both Feyre and Nesta can be distracted by Rhys and Cassian. When they are around, it is as if I am not there.”

“What of Elain?” Eris asked.

Y/N sighed. “It’s more complicated with her. I know that she holds some attraction to Azriel but I do know that she has been in contact with Lucien these past few weeks.”

“How did you know that?” Eris asked.

“While Lucien was here two weeks ago, a letter came for him but was accidentally delivered to me accidently. I would recognise my sister’s handwriting anywhere,” Y/N said. “To be honest, even if it is just Elain that shows up, I will be more than happy about that.”

“Even if they don’t show up, you are surrounded by people who love you,” Eris said.

“And people who hate me,” Y/N said bitterly. “There are still people who work in this palace that cannot abide my presence, Eris.”

“And I am working on removing them–”

“And it is taking you too long!” Y/N exclaimed. “I am never allowed in any of the meetings because you won’t allow it!”

Eris stilled and Y/N regretted her words instantly. “Eris, I did not mean that at all. I am so sorry.”

“I know,” Eris said, his voice saddened. “And you don’t need to apologise because it is true. I could have gotten rid of those particular advisors months ago but I haven’t.”

“No, Eris, don’t do that,” Y/N said. “Don’t sit there and find excuses for my words. I shouldn’t have snapped at you at all, my love. I know you want to avoid an internal war within the court.”

At the term of endearment, Eris seemed to relax slightly. “You don’t need to apologise for snapping at me, Y/N. Of course I want you in those meetings, I cannot speak your ideas as eloquently as you. But I don’t wish to see the sneers and glares sent your way every single time you walk through those doors to the meeting room. Keeping you away is not something I want to do. It only reminds me of my father.”

Y/N lightly kissed his bare shoulder. “You are nothing like your father, Eris.”

“But leaving you out of court matters makes me seem like it,” Eris replied. “He never allowed my mother in any meetings either.”

“Unlike him, you allow me to have my opinions and words heard,” Y/N tried to reason with her mate.

“But through my voice, not yours,” Eris replied.

“It doesn’t matter because at the end of the day, I know I am making a change in this court. I know I am helping those in need and pathing the way for a better life for everyone in this court.” Y/N cupped his cheek. The stubble was gone but Y/N missed it, she had grown quite attached to it.

“The moment you become my wife, I will fire those advisors immediately,” Eris said.

“What about the possibilities of an internal war?” Y/N asked.

“If that does happen, I have enough resources and allies that will win it for us in no time. But I cannot sit here a moment longer and take credit for the large changes happening in court when it is all you,” Eris said and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Eris I can’t let you risk a war for me,” Y/N said. “I am perfectly content to wait.”

“Y/N, you must already know that I would crawl to the ends of the earth for you, a simple war is not going to stop me from having your voice heard,” Eris tenderly kissed her palm. “You must know how much I love and adore you.”

“I know, Eris,” Y/N said, her voice soft as she leaned her forehead against Eris’s.

“Let’s go back to bed,” Eris suggested. “We still have a couple of hours before we need to wake.”

And that is exactly what the pair did. Y/N fit perfectly within Eris’s arms, her back pressed tightly against his chest. His scent surrounded her and Y/N found that every worry seemed to drift away, even if she knew it would only be for a couple of hours. With that, Y/N managed to drift off to a peaceful sleep.

***

With her hair styled and her dress on, Y/N felt like the bride she had always imagined to be. There were multiple times where she had nearly cried off the colouring around her eyes. Now as she stood behind the doors, her heart hammered in her chest. She had not seen Eris since he was whisked out of their bedroom and into his own dressing room that morning. The only communication they had since then was the waves of love sent down the bond.

But now, Y/N could feel Eris’s nervousness and she could feel his.

There was nothing to be nervous about and Y/N knew that. She was marrying the love of her and life and having her dream wedding. Nothing would ever rival this day, perhaps possibly their mating ceremony, but even that hadn’t been as grand of a scale as this.

“Are you ready, High Lady?” One of the maids asked, a bright smile on her face.

Y/N let out a long breath. “I am.”

The maid smiled and straightened out her veil. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Y/N said, looking down at her dress once more.

The grand doors opened and the musicians immediately began playing. Y/N couldn’t stop herself from tearing up at the song. It was the same song that they shared their first ever dance to the night they met.

Y/N’s eyes met Eris’s and her chest felt tighter. He was dressed in a suit similar gold to hers and had splashes of the gold dusting her eyes on his. She gasped at the sight of him, she had never seen him look so beautiful before.

Even from the opposite end of the aisle, she could see the way he tried to hold in his tears. Her soul sang to his as she took her first few steps down the aisle. That invisible thread seemed to pull her toward him and she would gladly follow wherever he was. The male standing at the end of the aisle was the furthest thing from how others described him. He was loving and protective and the most incredible being Y/N had ever met. She was lucky to hold him in her arms every night.

The closer Y/N got to Eris, she broke eye contact for the briefest moment to look around at all of the people surrounding her. Many were from other courts yet the hall was mostly filled with commoners from the Autumn Court. Y/N had invited the farmers, bakers and business owners. Families with children and without. This was not just a day to celebrate her and Eris, it was to celebrate the court itself and the positive changes it was making.

Who she didn’t see however was her sisters. Her heart sank as the smile wavered on her face but once her eyes met Eris’s once more he nodded his head toward the back of the hall. Somewhere where Y/N had not even glanced at in the moments she began to walk down the aisle.

There were her sisters. Each smiling as she walked down the aisle, Nyx in Feyre’s arms. Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel all sat beside them. Y/N locked eyes with each of her sisters and the smile on her face shined bright once more.

A small tap against her shields had Y/N immedietly bringing them down.

You look beautiful, Feyre said.

Thank you for coming, Y/N said.

We wouldn’t miss this, Feyre replied and she was gone from her mind.

Y/N’s gaze lingered on her three sisters for a brief moment longer before she turned back to Eris. Y/N knew that she had to walk in pace to the music but in those last few feet she didn’t care. She passed her boquet to a Day Court official sitting on the end of the row and lifted up the front of her skirt as she ran to Eris.

Eris only opened his arms as she flung her arms around him.

“You are stunning,” Eris mumbled into her ear.

Y/N didn’t respond as she took a step back as Eris took her hands in his. As they locked eyes, Eris finally allowed a singular tear to fall down his cheek. Y/N released her fans from his hold and wiped it away.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Eris whispered.

“Me neither,” Y/N replied, bringing his hand to her lips and kissing his knuckles tenderly.

Both Y/N and Eris seemed to be in their own small world when the ceremony began. Everything around them seemed to melt away until the two of them stood alone in the hall together. Eris’s hand shook as he held onto hers, it reminded Y/N of their mating ceremony, he was nervous then too. A small squeeze of reassurance was all it took to subside the shaking. A reminder to Eris that he was present and the whole spectacle was just a figment of his imagination.

“And now the vows,” the officiator announced.

The wedding was more accustomed to a human wedding ceremony with elements of a fae ceremony sprinkled in to make it official. Eris wanted to replicate her dream wedding and he had done it to perfection. It was as if Y/N stepped out of her own daydream.

Eris let out a shaky breath before speaking. “Y/N, I will begin by saying that you are the love of my life. A love that I never thought I deserved.”

Eris took another breath and closed his eyes, as if he were begging the tears to stay at bay. “I will keep this short because you already know how much I adore and love you but I want you to know Y/N, that you saved my life. The moment you walked into it, everything was changed, the planets aligned, you saved me from myself, from dooming this court to continue under the way it was ruled previously.”

“You are my light, Y/N, a light I never thought would shine upon me. A light so bright yet I never saw it coming. You are my mate, my love, my wife, my whole world. And I will spend eternity loving you because it is what you deserve, it is what you have always deserved.”

The tears fell in rhythmic succession down Y/N’s face as she held tightly onto Eris’s hands. “How am I meant to follow that?”

A small chorus of laughs echoed throughout the hall.

Eris smiled brightly and squeezed her hands.

“Eris, I love you,” Y/N began. Her heart hammered in her chest. “I wasn’t looking for love when I found you. But you were so patient with me, you allowed me to pursue things at my own pace. Never once did you pressure me into anything.”

Eris’s thumb lightly caressed her knuckles and Y/N struggled to keep her composure.

“I love your smile, I love your laugh, I even love the way you want to hold my hand every moment of the day even if it is inconvenient for us both.” Eris chuckled quietly and dipped his head. “Most importantly Eris, I love your soul. I love how much you love and how much you care. And now I am just talking from the heart, but you deserve this. You deserve so much love, and I will happily give it to you for our entire lives, as your wife, as your mate, as your friend. You are my entire life, Eris and you always will be.”

With their eyes locked, Eris sent so much love down the bond that it was almost overwhelming. But Y/N just simply returned it.

“And with that,” the officiator began. “I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride, High Lord.”

“I damn sure will,” Eris said before gently cupping Y/N’s cheeks and pressed his lips against hers in a gentle, yet passionate kiss.

Their tears mixed together and Y/N was sure that the gold dusting her and Eris’s eyelids was now all over their faces but she didn’t care. She was kissing her husband, her mate, the love of her life.

Something deep within Y/N seemed to awaken and before she knew it heat surrounded them as the guests gasped in awe. Y/N only pulled away from Eris to look at the spectacle that surrounded them. Fire swirled in elegant patterns around the hall. Sparks falling down around the hall but vanished when they were close to anything it could harm.

Y/N gasped. “Did you do this?”

Eris was not looking at the spectacle when Y/N turned back to him, he was only looking at her. “No,” he answered. “You are.”

“But how–”

“I told you, there is more to your power,” Eris wrapped his hand around hers.

The fire slowly began to disappear until nothing remained. Y/N turned back to Eris, whose eyes were still fixed on her.

“Shall we go, my love?” Eris asked.

Y/N smiled. “Yes we shall.”

The two walked down the aisle to the applause of everyone in the hall.

***

The ballroom was smaller than the hall Y/N and Eris married in but was still just as grand. People danced and enjoyed themselves. Some drank too much and were escorted out by their friends. It was everything Y/N had envisioned for her wedding day.

The only thing she needed was her sisters.

As Y/N walked through the ballroom, her sights set on the group huddled in the far corner of the ballroom. Her sisters, more specifically Elain, was straying further from the group as she tried to find someone in the mass of people, but once her younger sister's eyes landed on her she smiled and rushed over.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Elain said as she wrapped her in a hug.

Y/N’s arms immediately wrapped around her sister and hugged her fiercely. “It’s okay. I am glad you are here.”

As Y/N pulled away from Elain, Feyre and Nesta were approaching. Like Elain, Feyre gave her a hug and offered her a quiet apology. Finally Nesta stood before her. Unlike her two youngest sisters, Nesta remained there, as elegant as ever, with her arms folded across her chest.

“Nesta,” Y/N greeted. “I am glad you are–”

Before Y/N could finish her sentence, Nesta had wrapped Y/N in a tight hug. She had never been too close to Nesta and she was sure that she could count on one hand the number of times they had hugged in their life. But this was by far Y/N’s favourite.

“I am sorry for the way we treated you, Y/N,” Nesta said and pulled away.

“It is okay,” Y/N said.

“No it isn’t, Y/N,” Feyre said. “We should not have pushed you away. We should not have ignored you. Your trauma from the cauldron was just as valid as Nesta and Elain and we did nothing for you.”

“We are also sorry for how we treated you and Eris,” Elain butt in. “From the looks of things, you two love each other and he absolutely adores you. It was wrong of us to assume he had forced you to stay here.”

“Can you ever forgive us?” Feyre asked.

“There are a lot of things you three have not done for me over the past few years,” Y/N began. “Feyre, Elain you have described them perfectly. I am not forgiving you immediately, we three need to have time to rebuild any relationship we had before.” Her three sisters lost the small smiles on their faces. “But tonight, I would just like to be with my sisters and celebrate with them. When I imagined my wedding day, I always pictured you three there beside me.”

Elain took Y/N’s hand. “We will always be beside you, Y/N. We love you.”

Y/N smiled. “I love you three too.”

Y/N held a little tighter onto Elain’s hand and then gripped onto Nesta’s hand. “Now as it is my wedding day and as I am High Lady of this court, I demand you three to dance with me.”

Y/N dragged the two to the centre of the dancefloor. People around them watched but Y/N couldn’t find it within herself to care about appearances. All she wanted to do was have fun with her sisters. Nests tried to remain poised but Y/N simply held onto her hands and pulled her sister into a dance.

“Nesta, there is no one to impress here,” Y/N said, twirling her sister around. “Relax.”

Nesta’s shoulders seemed to relax the slightest amount as the musicians began to play a more upbeat piece of music. Y/N spun around on the dancefloor with her sisters and she began to beckon people to join them.

Standing on the outskirts of the circle was Aliana and Y/N beckoned her over. She did so without complaint. Y/N released Nesta’s hands and gripped onto Aliana’s. “I am so glad you decided to join the celebrations.”

“You have invited most of the village!” Aliana exclaimed. “I expected to walk in and be amongst official court advisors.”

“I invited everyone from the village, and some of the surrounding ones,” Y/N said. “I would have invited more but I don’t believe that there would be time for them to travel, so I sent them all small wedding favours.”

“When I heard that there was going to be a High Lady of Autumn, I didn’t expect you to be so kind,” Aliana said.

Y/N smiled. “I only want what is best for everyone. Everyone deserves to be seen and live in a safe space. I did not have that growing up so I want to make sure others do.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” Aliana said. “From the bottom of my heart, thank you.”

“There is no need to thank me,” Y/N said and caught a glimpse of someone over Aliana’s shoulder. “There is someone here to see you.”

Aliana released Y/N’s hands and turned to look behind her. She gasped as tears sprung to her eyes. “Is that-?”

“Your mother,” Y/N said. “I released her from her ban from the Autumn Court. She can come back whenever she pleases. She can even move back if she wanted.”

Aliana flung her arms around Y/N. “Thank you, Y/N. Nobody has ever done something ths kind to our family before.”

Y/N wrapped her arms around Aliana before gently pulling away. “Go and spend time with your mother. I will see you later.”

“Later? What do you mean later?” Aliana asked.

“Well, I will need a royal seamstress for the palace,” Y/N said.

Aliana stepped away. “That is a made up title.”

“You are correct,” Y/N replied. “I did just make that up. But that is your new title if you choose to accept it.” Aliana opened her mouth to reply but Y/N simply held up her hand. “We can discuss more about it another time. Go to your mother.”

“Thank you,” Aliana said and rushed toward her mother and threw her arms around her. Y/N smiled at the sight.

“Come on!” Elain exclaimed and pulled Y/N in for another dance in the crowd of people.

Y/N happily complied as through the crowd she saw Eris. He held a glass of wine in his hand as he watched her with a smile. Y/N beckoned him to the dance floor but he shook his head and nodded in the direction of her sisters. Before Y/N could try to coerce him again, Lucine appeared at his side and he was sucked into conversation.

Y/N turned back to her sisters and danced the night away.

***

The music was slower and a lot of people had retired home, though many still remained. Y/N’s arms were wrapped around Eris’s neck and her head rested on his shoulder as they gently swayed to the music.

“My wife,” Eris muttered.

“My husband,” Y/N muttered in return.

“I don’t know how I ever lived without you,” Eris said, his voice full of emotion. “You are the other half of my soul.”

Y/N gripped onto him tighter. She still was overwhelmed with emotions, all melting together and she couldn’t distinguish what emotion was what.

“You are a dream, Eris Vanserra,” Y/N said.

“And you are a vision, Y/N Archeron,” Eris replied.

“Are you upset that I didn’t take your name?” Y/N asked.

“My love, I do not care,” Eris said. “All I care about is that I can call you my wife and my mate.”

“I love you,” Y/N muttered, pressing a soft kiss to the side of Eris’s neck.

“I love you too,” Eris replied, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

The picture perfect image was interrupted by a small cough. Eris tensed and Y/N pulled away to look directly into Rhysand’s eyes.

“May I have a dance, High Lady?” Rhysand asked.

Eris held a protective arm around her waist as he glared at Rhysand. Her hand rested on his chest in a comforting manner. From the looks of things Rhysand did not look like he was here to cause any drama. Both Cassian and Azriel were standing on the outskirts conversing with Nesta and Feyre, Elain was nowhere to be seen.

“Of course,” Y/N said. “Eris, would you mind getting me a drink? I won’t be long.”

“Yes, my love,” Eris replied, pressing a kiss to her cheek. His gaze once again fell upon Rhysand before he turned and walked away, leaving both Y/N and Rhysand alone.

Rhysand swept Y/N in a dance, his hand resting on her mid back while he clutched her hand with his as he spun around the dancefloor.

“Why did you want to dance, Feyre is just over there?” Y/N questioned.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Rhysand replied.

“Then talk,” Y/N said bluntly. “I was happy spending time with Eris before you cut in.”

Rhysand looked around the ballroom. “How did you convince him to invite people from the village?”

Y/N frowned, offended on behalf of her mate and husband. “I did not convince him to do anything, Rhysand. I sent out the invitations and he helped me do it.” Y/N pulled away. “If the only thing you want to do is insult Eris to my face, then I will gladly leave you here.”

Rhysand sighed and caught her wrist. “I am sorry, Y/N. I truly am.”

“Look, I do not like you, Rhysand. I have made that abundantly clear time and time again,” Y/N said. “But you make my sister happy, happier than I have ever seen her so I must thank you for that. You also played a part in creating my adorable nephew and that is another thing I can thank you for. But you and I are not friends. Especially not when you insult Eris at every given chance, even after Feyre explained to you why he did the things that he did.”

Rhysand sighed once more. “I know, and I don’t expect you to forgive me.”

Against her better judgement, Isal gently took his hand in hers. “Listen, Rhysand. I do not forgive you now, and I probably won’t forgive you until many years down the line, first you must not continue to see Eris as his father. He will never admit it to anyone else but me but that is what he fears the most. He is scared of becoming like his father, sometimes he wakes in the middle of the night crying and screaming because nightmares plague him.” Y/N said. “You need to realise that the two have quite a lot in common. All you both wanted is to protect the ones you love.”

Rhysand remained silent.

“If you actually want to see the positive changes already made in the court, because of me and Eris, you and everyone else are welcome to stay for the following few days, there are plenty of guest rooms available,” Y/N offered. “Now if you will excuse me, I am going to spend time with the person I love. As for you, try to at least have fun and not act like a sword is hanging over your head.”

With that Y/N stepped away from Rhysand and walked away from him, a weight lifted from her shoulders.

She found Eris standing by the drinks table and she hastily approached him, not wanting to be apart from him any longer. Eris immediately perked up as Y/N drew closer, pulling her into his side once she was in arm's reach.

“What did he want to talk about?” Eris asked, lazily resting his arm around Y/N’s shoulders.

“I think it was meant to be an apology,” Y/N said, taking a sip of the wine. “But I am sure he just spent the time trying to pick fault with you.”

Eris growled and looked in Rhysand’s direction. But all Y/N needed to do was link her fingers with his and his attention was instantly devoured back to her.

“It’s our wedding day,” Y/N said softly. “Let us just spend the remainder of the night together and not worry about anything else, or anybody else for that matter.”

Eris moved his face closer to hers so his lips hovered just above hers. “I like the sound of that idea.” His voice was low and deep, the tone that always made Y/N weak at the knees.

Eris connected their lips and Y/N abandoned her drink on the table and wrapped her arms around him. She did not care that they were standing where everyone could see, the only thing that mattered was Eris and the fact that he was hers.

Y/N was the first to pull away. She rested her forehead on his. “I know we will be leaving close to two hundred people in the ballroom, but all I want to do is retire to our bedroom. I don’t even want to have sex, I just want to lay down in our bed and hold one another until we fall asleep.”

“I like the sound of that idea more,” Eris said and began to drag her through the ballroom and to the exit.

“You always love the sound of my ideas,” Y/N commented.

“I do,” Eris said. “I could listen to them for hours on end and never tire of your voice.”

“You are just saying that because you love me,” Y/N teased.

“That is true,” Eris jokes. “When I am tired and you ask me if I am still awake to ask me a silly question, that is when I tire of your voice.”

Y/N laughed as she and Eris stumbled into their bedroom. Almost immediately, Eris began to unlace her dress and watched as it fell away and to the floor, leaving her in only a simple pair of underwear.

“You are truly stunning,” Eris said. “I should tell you that more often.”

“You tell me that every day,” Y/N said, beginning to take off Eris’s clothing.

“It is never enough,” Eris replied, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder.

Y/N shivered as he unclasped her bra and let it fall from her body. There was nothing sexually charged about the atmosphere, all Y/N and Eris needed was to hold each other and to feel each other.

Y/N pulled him to the bed and shuffled to the centre of it, pulling Eris across with her. The contrast of the cool sheets and the heat emitting from Eris’s body made her relax and pull Eris closer so her head could easily rest in the crook of his neck.

Now that they were in privacy, Eris’s entire demeanour changed. When he was surrounded by court officials, from their own court and others, and the fae from the village, he put up his High Lord front. But now, with only Y/N as witness, he stripped that all back and was fully able to be his true self. The side that only Y/N ever got to see.

“My mate, my wife,” Eris mumbled. “I will never tire of saying that.”

“My mate, my husband,” Y/N responded, her lips brushing his neck. “I will never tire of saying it either.”

Eris drew small patterns upon her skin as the two lay there in silence. Y/N’s eyes were closed but she was not sleeping, she was simply enjoying the simple pleasure in being cuddled up to the love of her life. The love that she never thought would ever come true. The love she deserved. The love she was destined for.

#eris vanserra x y/n #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra fluff #high lord eris #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #acotar x reader #acotar #a court of thorns and roses

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vivwritesfics · 6 months

Note

Going to be a little self indulgent but how about Lestappen or Charlando and reader is so overworked and exhausted from studying. But she’s worn herself down so bad while the boys were gone they come back to her like that! Hope this is okay, I haven’t requested something in so long 🥺🩵💙🩵

Grief makes me write apparently

"Yes Max, I promise I'll sleep," Y/N said into the phone as she held it between her head and her shoulder. "I'll just stay up long enough to watch the first corner."

"Mijn liefje, no. You've got a test tomorrow; you need sleep," Max said as he sat in his drivers room, using the last piece of privacy he had before the race. "Promise me you'll prioritise sleep over us."

Actually, Y/N's test was that day. Her test was in six hours, actually, and she hadn't yet gotten any sleep. She'd been either calling her boyfriends while he could or watching videos of them online. Y/N had tried to sleep. And if she wasn't sleeping, she was trying to study, but even that was proving fruitless.

"Okay, Maxie, I'll try," she muttered and wished him good luck for the race. They said goodbye and around a thousand 'I love you's' before Y/N hung up.

She scrolled down to the next name on her contact list.

Lightning Mclerc 🏎💖

Y/N swiped her finger across the screen and pressed the phone against her ear.

There was a good minute before Charles picked up the phone. "Chérie!" Charles cheered as he answered the phone. "Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

Y/N let out something of a sigh as she leaned back in her desk chair. "I've already done this with Max," she mumbled.

"So you should be sleeping."

"I just wanted to wish you good luck before the race."

"Aw," she heard Charles say down the phone. "Thank you, mon amour. Good luck with your test tomorrow."

She thanked him quickly. "Charlie," she began, dragging out the eeeee. "When are you guys coming home?"

"Soon, baby. As soon as the race is over, Max and I will come home to you."

"Thank you, Charlie. I miss you guys so much."

"I miss you too, Chérie."

After making her promise to try and get some sleep, Y/N hung up the phone. But she couldn't sleep. She had the build up to the race on in the background as she tried to study for her test and complete her essay. It wasn't going to tell.

Within half an hour Y/N was asleep, drooling on her notes.

She woke just a few hours later to her phone, blaring in her ear. She woke with a start, almost falling out of her chair. "Holy shit," she mumbled, wiping the drool from her face. Her notes were a mess, the ink smudged to the point of being unreadable. "Fuck, shit, fuck," she mumbled as she tried to sort through them.

Y/N made her way out to her test. She wasn't prepared, not in the slightest. The boys had probably just finished her race by the time she was heading out towards her campus.

Throughout the entire test, Y/N was sweating. Her hands were shaking as she wrote, but she got through it. She answered every question with little confidence, but the questions were answered, at least.

After the test, Y/N didn't speak to anybody. She walked out of her exam and made her way straight home, straight into her bed, trying her best to sleep.

She couldn't sleep. No. The test may have been over, but Y/n couldn't stop thinking about it. She couldn't go back, couldn't change her answers now, but she was still stressed about it.

Suddenly, the door to her apartment opened. Y/N jumped out of her bed, dressed in Charles' old Ferrari shirt, and made her way to the door.

There they were. Her boys. Tired and exhausted after the first ever race in Vegas, but they were there. They could have gone home to Monaco, but they'd gone to Y/N's instead.

"Oh my god," she muttered as she walked into their awaiting arms. "You're here. You're actually here." Her face was buried in Charles' chest as Max wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

"We missed you too, Schat. So, so much," he said, pressing a kiss to her neck.

"How was your test, Chérie?" Asked Charles as Max took their things into the bedroom.

Y/N didn't answer. She kept her face buried in Charles' chest as he walked her further into the apartment. Not good, that much he could pick up on. The test hadn't gone well at all.

When Charles released her, Max grabbed her shoulders and turned her towards him. "You look so tired, schat. Have you been sleeping?"

She nodded her head. Maybe it wasn't enough sleep, but it was still sleep. "But you guys must be tired, too," she said, leaning against them.

The boys settled on the sofa as Y/N ran to grab her laptop. "What're you doing?" Charles asked as she settled down between them.

"Uni work," she answered quickly as she opened the lid.

Before she could type in her passcode, Max pushed the laptop shut. "No, baby. You've just had a test. You can relax, now," he said as he placed her laptop down.

Reluctantly, Y/N accepted it. She cuddled up to her boys as the three of them watched television. If they weren't going to let her burnout, so be it (actually no, she was very grateful that they were forcing her to take a break. Y/N never would have done it on her own.).

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fettuccin-e · 4 months

Text

Flying to New Heights

Summary: A flight delay means you're spending your night at the hotel bar, praying for sleep to come to you. Instead, a certain Captain Francisco Morales shows up, tall and broad and far too tempting. With undeniable attraction burning between you, you can't help the way you fall right into his arms.

A/N: Alright! I know it's been a while, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Life has gotten a tad crazy, but the Frankie thirst never stops okay? And this AU has been buzzing in my head for a little while now, so I just needed to get it out there. I hope y'all enjoy the porn. (dividers are by the lovely @saradika-graphics!)

Tags: Frankie Morales x Reader, Commercial Pilot!Frankie, Flight attendant!reader, afab!fem!reader, alcohol consumption but barely, this is essentially an excuse for porn so, oral and fingering(r!recieving), unprotected piv (pls wrap it up I'm begging you), Francisco Morales and his dirty mouth have struck again (w/c: 4.2K)

You love your job, you really do. Deciding to actually train to be a flight attendant was one of the best decisions of your life. Gone were the days of short-lived stints in retail, and you’ve never been happier for it.

You’ve lived the attendant life for a few years now, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’ve met some of your best friends through this job, seen some of the most beautiful places in the world, met celebrities on their way to new production locations and concert venues.

It’s the dream, you tell your family, during the rare moments you actually get to visit them. And it is. The perks far outweigh the cons in your profession, and you’re happy to be where you are.

That’s not to say there aren’t any cons though.

There are always rude flyers, unruly children, issues with luggage. The turbulence is never much fun, nor are the months spent without being able to go home at all.

There are always nights like tonight, where the rain made the flight arrive later than expected, and you’ve got another flight scheduled for the morning. Between jetlag and the copious amounts of airline coffee you’ve imbibed to remain bright and chipper over an eight hour flight overseas, there’s no way you’ll get more than five hours of sleep before you have to clock in again.

A nightcap in the hotel bar seemed just the thing to cool off. You haven’t even taken your uniform off, the thick fabric stretching across your skin, your legs exposed to the cool air as you sip on your drink. The alcohol burns a bit in the back of your throat, but you take comfort in it, trying to lean into the calming warmth it creates in your stomach.

“Can’t sleep?”

The unexpected voice rips you from your reverie, and fuck, what a wake up call. The voice is deep, a pretty rasp edging into the ends of his words, the warmth of his tone making you far warmer than the alcohol in your glass ever could.

Captain Francisco Morales. Even his name has heat swimming in your stomach, and you wish you had just gone to bed like a normal person instead of drinking at the hotel bar at midnight.

You can’t decide if the pilot is a perk or a con of the job, only knowing that he seems to pilot most of your flights, and is a fucking distraction during every single one of them. With his big broad shoulders and patchy beard, the crinkles around his eyes when he smiles and his insistence that you call him Frankie, not Captain Morales.

The whole “flight attendants fucking pilots” trope never really applied to you until you met Frankie. You’ve made it a point not to hit on him, no matter how much you desperately want to. It would be far too stereotypical, and with how fucking nice Frankie is, you’d feel like you’d be taking advantage of him. So you’ve kept your distance, talking to him kindly, trying to cross your legs discreetly when he flexes his damn hands on the plane controls, and doing your job like a normal person.

But as he crosses into your line of vision, sitting in the barstool directly next to you, you’re struck with the realization that you’re in unknown territory. There’s no distracting yourself here with other passengers, or your fellow flight attendants. You can’t excuse yourself to an airplane bathroom to splash cold water on your face and yell at yourself to get it together. No, Frankie is right in front of you, ordering a whiskey neat from the bored-looking bartender, and smiling at you so fucking prettily with those big brown eyes and big hands and oh god you’re not going to survive-

“Nah, the jet-lag is really getting to me this time,” you say casually, your voice working on its own accord. At least you aren’t staring at him dopily like some kind of imbecile.

He chuckles. “Same here. Flight go okay?”

“You got us here, didn’t you, Captain? I’d say that’s a success.”

“Then let’s hope I’m always successful,” he winks, and it takes effort to breathe normally. You giggle, and he smiles at you again, his eyes crinkling up.

“You have a flight tomorrow?” he asks, sipping at his drink.

“Yeah, unfortunately," you sigh. "10:00AM, which is making the whole ‘no sleeping thing’ even worse. Y’know, it’s really the airline’s fault if I collapse on a passenger." You grin at him, and he laughs.

“Oh, they should be so lucky,” he chuckles, and you could swear that you see just a flicker of heat in his eyes. A heat that turns into a raging inferno inside of you, spreading from your cheeks to the tips of your toes.

“How about you, Captain? Flying again tomorrow?” You need to keep your mind out of the fucking gutter, not that he makes it very easy.

“Yup. They’ve got me in the air at 8:00AM.”

“Oh man, and you’re listening to me complain about my 10:00AM?”

“Work is work, sweetheart,” he smiles at you, and you want to collapse into him at that very moment. Sweetheart. Coming from anyone else, it would sound smarmy, like a pick up line, but from Frankie, it just sounds warm and comforting. You want to be his sweetheart. “We’re all allowed to complain. We aren’t in any kind of competition.”

He sips his whiskey, his eyes feeling like they’re boring into your fucking soul. “And either way, we’re both in the same bar, at midnight, sleep nowhere in sight. We’re pretty much in the same boat.”

“If you say so, Captain,” you say, your body positively burning under his gaze. You hope that you can blame it on the alcohol.

He raises an eyebrow, “I thought I told you to call me Frankie, sweetheart.”

“Frankie, sorry.”

“No need to be sorry,” he says, taking another sip. You try to not watch his throat work as he swallows. You fail. “Think you just need more practice,” he mumbles into his drink, so soft you almost miss it.

“Practice?” you blurt, mind too distracted to think of an intelligent response.

“Practice saying my name.”

A laugh startles out of your mouth. “I have no idea how I’d practice that, Frankie.”

He hums, pretending to think. “I have a few ideas,” he murmurs, and fuck, you definitely aren’t imagining the heat in his eyes now. It’s blazing into you, and you have to press your thighs together to alleviate the ache between them, hoping that Frankie doesn’t notice. Or maybe you hope he does, as you watch those thick fingers wrap around his glass.

Fuck it. He’s hot, you’re horny, and God, you can’t take much more of this. “I’d love to hear all about them, Frankie,” you say, adding a little rasp to your voice that you hope sounds sexy.

Frankie chuckles, but it doesn’t sound like he’s making fun of you. No, he sounds surprised, like he can’t believe you’re flirting back at him. Confidence swims in your chest as red colors his cheeks. You gaze up into those warm, brown eyes of his, and fuck, he’s so pretty up close like this.

“You sure about that, hermosa?”

You don’t break eye contact with him, and his deep gaze burns into yours. “Positive,” you breathe, and Frankie’s smirk is absolutely devastating.

Captain Francisco Morales doesn’t do this often. No, he doesn’t do this ever. Fucking between flights is supposed to be a perk of being a pilot, but it’s a “perk” he rarely utilizes. One night stands have never really suited him; he gets attached far too easily, and with his job, he can never stick around for long.

But god you’re pretty. And you’re licking hotly into his mouth, and whining in the back of your throat like you’re fucking desperate for it.

He couldn’t help himself when he saw you, still in your little uniform skirt, nursing a drink at the hotel bar. He couldn’t help himself when he struck up a conversation with you, wanting to see your pretty smile and soft laugh that he only ever hears mid-flight. And damn it, he sure as hell can’t help himself from pressing you up against the wall of the hotel elevator, pressing one of his thighs between yours while your fingers curl into his hair and his arms wrap around your waist.

You wiggle down onto his thick thigh, and it creates the most perfect pressure on your clit. You whimper against Frankie’s mouth, and he groans with you, pulling you flush against him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, and his voice is deep and gravelly, breathless from your fevered kisses. “I, uh, I don’t usually do this kind of thing.” His cheeks burn, but he doesn’t back away, just leans his forehead against yours and tries to catch his breath.

It isn’t a surprise, his confession. You’ve heard stories about every other pilot, about their conquests with flight attendants, or how someone saw one of them take their wedding band off when they got to their hotel. There are stories upon stories about every pilot you’ve flown with, except Frankie. And it’s intoxicating, knowing that he wants you enough to have you like this.

“Good. Me neither,” you whisper, and Frankie grins again. That boyish, devastating grin, and fuck, your clit is throbbing so hard that you could cum like this. You could cum, right in this elevator, Frankie’s thigh between yours and his tongue in your mouth, fuck-

The elevator dings, signaling your arrival to your floor, and Frankie jumps away from you as the doors slide open. You don’t take it personally, not when you’re instinctually tugging your rumpled skirt down. You glance up, and Frankie is already staring down at you, gaze blazing as he braces a hand against the elevator door, holding it open for you.

“Where’s your room?” he asks, and the question is casual, but his voice certainly isn’t. There’s promise in it, and you have to make sure your knees don’t buckle.

“Why don’t I show you?” you say, stepping toward him to press your bodies together. Frankie doesn’t answer, he only cups a hand under your jaw, dragging your face up for a sticky kiss. It’s so much better than a yes.

He breaks the kiss far too soon, but one of his hands makes its way down to your ass, squeezing the fat of it through your skirt. “Lead the way, princesa,” he grumbles, and how could you ever think to refuse him?

Maybe you’re a little too eager in your walk to your room, but Frankie doesn’t seem to fare much better. No, he’s just as desperate as you are, with the way he presses you against the door of your room the moment you close it. With the way he swiftly kisses down your neck, sucking your skin between his teeth as he unbuttons your blazer, shoving the fabric down your arms. The buttons of your white undershirt follow, and you keen as he sucks maddeningly at your pulse point, his mustache scratching at the sensitive skin of your neck.

As soon as you’re divested of your shirt, Frankie’s moving again, kissing his way down your chest. He drags his teeth against the soft skin of your breasts, and you dig your hands into his hair.

“Fuck, baby, you’ve got the prettiest tits,” he murmurs against your skin. It doesn’t sound like a line, no, it sounds like a prayer.

“Frankie, please,” you breathe.

He looks up at you from his position at your chest. “What, gorgeous?” he asks, coy, as if he doesn’t know what you want. What you desperately need.

“Please, just,” you use your grip in his hair to drag him back up to your mouth, and he goes willingly, groaning softly as his tongue meets yours again. “Please fuck me, Frankie,” you whisper, and Frankie groans like he’s dying.

“Take- take your clothes off, baby,” he mutters, and it sounds more like he’s begging than he’s commanding. “Take your clothes off, and get on the bed.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice.

You have to make sure you don’t trip on your way to the bed as you kick off your heels. You tug your skirt and nylons down your thighs, making sure to wiggle your ass a bit more than normal as you bend over to tug them the rest of the way down your legs. You smirk at Frankie’s soft groan behind you.

The air of the hotel room is slightly cold, but as soon as you kneel on the bed, arching your back in a shameless display of your desperation, Frankie is burning hot above you, and you can’t feel the cold at all. Frankie’s thick, calloused hands palm your ass, and you moan as he spreads you apart, staring unabashedly at your aching cunt.

“Can I eat your pussy, baby?” he grumbles from behind you, and the fact that he’s asking permission to eat you out is making you so much hotter, making you clench around nothing.

“Yes, yes, Frankie, oh please-” you whine, and Frankie barely lets you finish your sentence before he’s dragging his tongue in a long stripe up your dripping pussy. “Fuck, Frankie,” you groan, and he moans into you, sounding like he’s enjoying eating you out just as much as you are.

His nose drags maddeningly through your folds as he brings his lips down to your clit, sucking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it in circles that send pure pleasure sparking endlessly up your spine. You arch your back into it, pressing yourself into his mouth, and Frankie groans again. The vibrations of it against your clit make you jerk wildly, whining high as you clutch desperate fingers into the pristine white sheets of the bed.

Frankie tries to keep you still with one of his big hands pressing into the small of your back. His other hand makes its way to your pussy, and you don’t even realize, not when he’s licking into you so feverishly, until there’s a thick finger pressing into your achy entrance.

“Frankie, oh my god-” you gasp wetly, his finger so much thicker than one of your own. It’s been so long, too long, since you’ve had the touch of anything other than yourself. Your tiny, traveling bullet vibrator doesn’t feel like this. You can’t stretch yourself like this, you can’t drive yourself wild like he can.

He moves his finger around inside you, searching, searching, while he licks softly at your clit. “Where is it, baby?” he mutters against you, and you have to force your brain to work at least a little bit to decipher whatever the fuck he means.

His finger is still searching, stroking against your slick inner walls, and you can barely gasp out a, “up, up,” before he’s finally touching that sweet spot deep inside you. You can’t hide it when he does, gasping out a high pitched moan as pleasure rockets up your body.

“There it is, sweetheart,” he says, “good girl.”

And fuck, how do you hold yourself together when he says things like that. He licks again at your clit, but plays with that spongy spot inside you, abusing it. You’re so slick and hot, it doesn’t take long before he’s pressing a second finger into you, then a third. And his fingers are so fucking thick, breaking you apart and pressing into that wonderful spot inside you. Your vision is blurring at the edges as he plays with you like a practiced instrument. How is he so good at this? Your body barely feels like it’s your own, just Frankie’s; his to play with, his to fuck. God, he’s ruining you. It’s never been this good.

“Frankie, Frankie-” you whimper his name like a prayer, and his fingers move fast into you, jackhammering you into the mattress. You whine as he breaks his mouth from your clit, but he keeps his fingers pressed deep inside of you as he leans over your trembling body.

“C’mon baby, c’mon baby,” he mutters, moving his fingers inside you so roughly that you could swear he’s trying to break you in two. “What do you need, sweetheart? What do you need to cum all over my fingers, huh?”

“Just keep-” you gasp between shuddering moans. “Just keep talking to me, fuck, please-”

“Talk about what, gorgeous? Talk about how hard I am for you right now? How hard you always make me?” You whine at his words, and you can feel his smirk against the skin of your shoulder. His fingers move into you even harder, if that’s even possible. “Fuck, princesa, you have to know how fucking sexy you are. Make me so fucking hard whenever we fly together. Fuck, watched you bend over to pick up your bag once, right in front of me. Had to fuckin’ jerk my cock as soon as we got back to the hotel. Can’t help it around you baby.”

You feel like you’re underwater. Frankie’s voice is deep and dark in your ear, and your pussy is so fucking sensitive. You can feel your orgasm burning relentlessly in your stomach. Just a little more, just a little-

“Thought about taking you to the back of the plane, mid flight. Thought about fucking you hard, stuffing this pretty pussy, making you go back out to work with my cum dripping down your thighs. You want that, sweet girl? Fuck you’re so pretty, so pretty baby, you’ve gotta cum. Please, please let me fuck this pussy. Be my good girl, cum all over my hand.”

You don’t think he means it like a command, but you follow it anyway. You moan, throaty and wet, into the sheets as your cunt clenches around Frankie’s fingers, hips twitching as he presses reassuring kisses to your shoulder. You turn your head blindly, and he leans forward to meet your lips in a bruising kiss, his fingers buried deep inside as you gush all over his hand.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” you whisper against his lips, repeating it like a mantra, and Frankie whimpers, needy and so hot that it makes you want to cry.

“Okay, baby, okay, I’ve got you,” he says, and you know he does.

When Frankie presses the blunt tip of his cock against the opening of your sensitive pussy, you both groan. You push your hips back just as he pushes his hips forward, and the tip of his cock is just as big as the rest of him. Which, of course, means fucking massive. You have to breathe through the stretch of him inside you as he sinks deep, deeper, deeper.

“Doing so fucking good, sweetheart. Jesus fuck- ah- so fucking tight baby- fucking beautiful- oh fuck-” Frankie mutters, sounding just as overwhelmed as you feel. It feels like forever until he bottoms out, his hips pressed against your ass as he hunches over you, hot and big and all man. It’s a dream that you’ve had before, but the reality is so much better than anything you could have ever imagined.

“So- you’re so big, Frankie,” you whimper, and Frankie groans behind you. “Need you to fuck me, wanna feel it tomorrow, please, please-” and he does. He pulls his hips back, just to shove himself back in, and the drag of his fat cock against that spot he found earlier has tears springing unbidden to your eyes.

“Yes! Oh my god, like that, just like that-” you’ve never talked this much before during sex. But his unyielding thrusts, deep, deep inside, have you babbling wildly.

“Christ, you can’t talk like that, princesa, gonna make me blow my fucking load-”

“Want it, fuck Frankie, want you dripping down my fucking thighs, wanna gape open after you fuck me, oh god-”

Frankie fucks in harder, and it’s like every thought you’ve ever had flies out of you. His chest and stomach press into your back as he holds you still, thrusting desperately into you, harder and harder.

The bed is creaking, a rhythmic squeak that mixes in with the endless sounds of your keening whines and Frankie’s moans, and the obscene squelching of your pussy around Frankie’s cock. Your wetness drips down your thighs as Frankie bullies his way inside. He’s hitting that beautiful spot inside you, so perfectly, so overwhelmingly perfect, and fuck, tears are dripping down your face as you clutch onto a pillow, only able to squeak out pitiful whines of “Frankie, Frankie,” as he destroys you.

��So fucking gorgeous for me, god, bebita, fuckin’- fucking tight, fucking strangling me. Been too long, honey? Too long since you got fucked like you deserve?” Frankie growls into your ear, fucking you like a god damn animal.

Frankie’s lost control above you, which he just doesn’t do. He’s always in control, always, he has to be in this profession. But it’s like you’ve stripped him bare, literally and figuratively, to the most primal parts of himself. You’re so fucking hot and wet and tight around him, whining and throwing yourself back on his cock like it’s the best you’ve ever had, and he’s losing it. Losing it far too quickly, and he’s going to cum far too quickly.

“C’mon, baby, give me another one,” he groans, “squeeze my cock with this perfect fuckin’ pussy, wanna, wanna feel it.”

“Touch my clit- oh please, please, Frankie, ah- ah” and he does, the moment the words leave your lips. He reaches underneath the both of you, not breaking the rhythm of his hips driving into yours, and rubs two of those thick, calloused fingers against your throbbing clit.

“Fuck- yes, just like that, just like that, oh my god.” You’re slurring your words, so stupidly drunk on the feeling of his cock filling you over and over, of his body radiating heat above you.

“Gonna take care of you hermosa, make you cum like you deserve, so fuckin’ beautiful crying on my cock,” Frankie says, rubbing your clit hard and methodical. “Never gonna get enough of you baby. Gonna fuck you in every hotel we ever get, fuck you at the terminal, fuck this pussy in the god damn cockpit, oh shit-”

And you’re screaming, outright screaming into the sheets as the thread in your stomach snaps, your pussy clenching and gushing all over Frankie’s giant cock. He’s still mumbling into the cook of your neck, mindless mumbles about how pretty you are, how perfect, as you tremble through the most powerful orgasm of your fucking life. It’s devastating, it breaks you apart and puts you back together all at once, and you just have to trust Frankie to hold you together in his strong arms.

“Where do you want it, huh baby? Please, please, you’ve gotta tell me, oh shit-” Frankie whimpers, and it’s a damned good thing you still have enough brain cells to understand what he means.

“Inside, inside, 'm on the pill, please, please fill me up.” It’s fucking risky that you both didn’t even think about a condom, but with a man like Frankie, it’s hard to think about anything.

His hips still, his cock pressed inside so deep that it feels like he could be in your lungs, as he fills your pussy with his cum. He bites harshly into your shoulder, but it doesn’t fully muffle his whimpers as he crashes through his orgasm. Your eyes flutter shut. You wish you could bottle those sounds and listen to them forever.

Your knees slide out from under you, leaving you laying flat on your stomach, and Frankie follows, holding himself against you as you wait for your breathing to slow.

“That was…” you whisper into the quiet.

“Fucking amazing.”

You can’t suppress your giggle. “Took the words right out of my mouth, Frankie.”

He tucks his face into the crook of your shoulder, and you can feel his pretty smile, before he’s lifting himself off of you, and you realize how cold you are without his heat.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” he says, and you can’t bring yourself to do anything more than nod. Frankie rushes quickly into the en suite bathroom, and you can hear the sink running for a moment, before he comes back. A warm, wet rag makes its way down your back, over the curve of your ass, and between your legs. He’s ridiculously gentle as he wipes you down, and it’s wonderful.

Once Frankie deems you clean again, he climbs into bed next to you. He wraps his arms around your placid body, tugging you close. “Didn’t take you for a cuddler, Frankie,” you murmur, but you only snuggle closer, relishing in his deep chuckle.

“I’m usually not.”

“You don’t do this often, though?” you say, dragging a finger down his chest, your eyes already fluttering shut.

You feel Frankie’s lips press to your forehead as he murmurs, “I think I’m willing to let this,” he hugs you against him softly, “become a new habit.”

You smile, and you lean up to kiss him gently. “I wouldn’t mind that at all.”

#*runs away again for another month*#Frankie the man that you are #always here to pull me out of a writing slump #frankie morales x reader #frankie x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x fem!reader #triple frontier x you #triple frontier fic #triple frontier smut #triple frontier x reader

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mxlti-lover · 11 months

Text

Sick {Paul Lahote}

Summary: You fell sick with a really bad cold, but how were you supposed to tell your werewolf boyfriend you didn’t want him to cuddle you?

Warnings: none, just a sad Paul.

Word Count: 1059

(P.S. please don’t judge too hard if this is terrible, I haven’t written in a while and I’m a little rusty…)

*do not steal or copyright any of my work pls and thank you*

You woke up that morning feeling horrible. Your nose was so clogged you could barely breathe and you had the worst honking cough.

You laid in bed, curled into a ball watching your favorite Disney movie. You knew you should tell Paul, but you didn’t really want him at the moment. Don’t get it twisted, you loved Paul to death, I mean, he was your mate, but when you got sick like this, his body heat didn’t help.

You knew he would want to cuddle you, give you some scalp massages as he checked up on you every minute of the hour, but right now, you just wanted to be alone.

That is until you heard the front door opening.

“Y/N! Baby! Where are you?!” Paul shouted.

You knew he probably sensed you weren’t okay as he still had an hour before he usually got home from patrol. Probably talking Sam into letting him leave early.

“I’m upstairs!” You called out the best you could, your throat feeling raw from coughing.

You heard footsteps rush up the stairs and soon Paul’s tall figure stood in the doorway, scanning you over, a frown on his face.

“Baby…why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” He asked softly as he made his way over to the bed.

He sat on the edge of the bed as he leaned over kissing your forehead and cheek softly, checking if you had a fever.

“You’re burning up baby.” He spoke sadly, sitting up again to look at you.

You knew you weren’t a pretty sight as you hadn't gotten up at all that morning. Your hair probably a tangled mess, your nose probably red and chapped from how much you had to blow it and your face looking as pale as a ghost.

“I didn’t want to bother you..” You lied, as you spoke barely above a whisper. Your voice raspy as you knew you were probably gonna lose it soon.

“Baby, you wouldn’t be bothering me at all. I would rather be by your side taking care of you, than on patrol.” He says frowning at the idea of you being alone all morning like this.

You sigh as you rub your face sitting up, his hand coming down to softly push you back down.

“You’re not getting up baby. Whatever you need I’ll get for you. Now, have you eaten at all today?” He asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

You shook your head no as you leaned into his touch, his warmth radiating against your skin.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” He says as he gets up and his figure disappears from the doorway.

You sigh as you curl back up into a ball, watching the movie again, guilt washing over you. You knew he would want to cuddle you, as his love language is definitely physical touch. Especially when it comes to taking care of you.

But you didn’t want his cuddles at the moment. Your skin was already burning underneath the thin blanket you chose, let alone having your own personal heater of a boyfriend coming to lay next to you.

You took a deep breath as you let that thought slip your mind for now, closing your eyes as your body needed sleep. That is until you struggled to breath again, groaning softly as you sat up, blowing your nose for the hundredth time that morning.

A few minutes later you heard Paul coming back into the room with a small tray. On it sat a bowl of chicken noodle soup and a glass of apple juice - your two favorite things to have when you were sick.

You smiled up at him as you sat up in bed, fluffing up the pillows behind your back to sit more comfortably.

Paul set the tray down carefully into your lap as you immediately dig into the soup, humming softly as the warmth from the soup soothed your throat.

“Thank you.” You whispered as you looked up at Paul.

“You’re welcome baby girl.” He says sitting down next to you as he leaned over to kiss the top of your head.

He looked over at the TV as he chuckled softly at the movie that was playing. “Should’ve known you were watching this.”

“It’s my favorite movie to watch when I’m sick.” You protested shooting daggers at him as he raised his hands up in defense.

“I know my love, I was just messing with you. Now finish up your soup and I’ll give you some well deserved cuddles, yeah?” He says leaning over kissing your cheek.

You nod as you put on a fake smile, sighing into the bite of soup you took. How are you supposed to tell your boyfriend that you don’t want him to cuddle you?

~ ~ ~

It’s been 10 minutes now since you finished your soup and your boyfriend immediately pulling you into him to cuddle.

Your head laid on his chest, as your arms wrapped around his torso like you usually would. Your legs tangled with one another.

You will admit that it was nice for the first few minutes, sighing contently as you closed your eyes. But now, it was starting to become unbearable. Your skin felt like it was on fire, as you began to squirm uncomfortably.

“Paul, can you please let me go? I can’t do this anymore, you’re making my skin burn up more than it already is.” You mumbled as you tried to get out of his grip.

He looked down at you, hurt. He let go of you as you moved away from him, panting softly to yourself as you enjoyed the cold air hitting your body.

You knew Paul was hurt, and you didn’t mean for it to come off so harshly, you just needed to get away from him.

Paul watched as you relaxed feeling terrible that he made you feel even more uncomfortable than you already were.

“I’ll be downstairs if you need anything..” He spoke barely above a whisper, as he leaned over, kissing the crown of your head softly, before getting up, exiting your room.

“Paul, don’t leave! I still want you with me.” You begged as you tried to reach out for him, but he continued to walk out your room, upset with himself that he made his girlfriend uncomfortable.

~ ~ ~

I hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading!🫶

- Paige

#paul lahote #paul lahote x y/n #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote x you #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote blurb #paul lahote fluff #paul lahote angst #twilight #wolf pack #jacob black #sam uley #quil ateara #embry call #jared cameron #seth clearwater #leah clearwater

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 7 months

Text

Sam and Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, Castiel x teen!reader Jack x teen!reader (all platonic)

Requested by @little-bug-butt

Synopsis: just some little shorts about the Impala being the best place on earth.

You turned the back of the Impala into your own personal sleeping quarters and got comfortable right away. Sam had dragged you out of bed far too early, insisting that it was time to move on, since the hunt was over. You had been asleep by the time the boys had gotten back from a quick vamp job, and they woke you after showering and getting about three hours of sleep.

Despite your grumpy exhaustion, the thrum of the Impala’s engine starting up brought a smile tugging at your lips. In most cases, sleeping in a car was incredibly uncomfortable, but not in the Impala. The backseat was large and fairly accommodating, and the purr of Baby’s engine was better than any lullaby.

It still wasn’t a bed, but it was warm and it was safe, and that was all you could ask for.

“Do you think we’re doing this right?” The sound of Sam’s whispering caught your attention, but you kept your eyes closed as you attempted to sleep.

“What, the job?” Dean asked. “We haven’t even gotten there yet.”

“No, not the job, Y/N.”

“What about her?” Dean’s voice dropped in volume.

“I mean, we’ve been going from job to job nonstop for a while now. I don’t wanna wear her out.”

“She’s fine, look at her. She’s out like a light.”

You struggled to hold back your smile at this. You hadn’t realized that your feigned sleep was so convincing.

“You sure? I mean she’s been kinda quiet lately.”

“I’m sure she’s just tired. She’s gonna be alright, we all are.”

“I just don’t wanna screw this up, you know? With dad gone, I’m not sure I know how to—“

“She doesn’t need a replacement for dad, Sam. Just be a good brother and she’ll be alright.”

The car lapsed into silence after that, and you found yourself drifting in and out of sleep until the sun began to rise. It was still early, and you were still tired, but you shifted in your seat to watch the sunrise anyway.

When Dean saw that you were awake, he reached up and turned on the radio. You craned your neck to see Sam dozing, but he could sleep through anything, so Dean’s Metallica tape wasn’t a problem.

Neither of you spoke to break the still, silent morning, but you still felt connected to your big brother as the two of you watched the sun cast it’s pinkish glow over the black hood of the Impala. The air was crisp, but the light of dawn brought with it a warm blanketing shine that brought an easy smile to your lips. You took a deep breath, and somewhere between Dean’s cologne and the smell of fast food you could smell the fresh air of the morning. Or, more likely than not, you were imagining it, and the only fresh smell was the little green tree air freshener that you had hung up to make the car smell better, and Dean had immediately taken off and flung into the backseat.

“Good morning,” Dean finally broke the silence, glancing at you in the rearview mirror. “You doing ok?”

“Yeah,” you smiled at him. “I’m doing just fine.”

…

“Ow! Cas, that’s my hand.”

“Sorry, but you’re in my space.”

“So not true! Jack, close the window.”

“But it’s hot in here.”

“If you kids don’t shut up, I’m going to turn this car around!” Dean snapped from the front seat.

“Did you call me a child?” Cas complained.

“No more talking, that’s the rule for the next hundred miles,” Dean grunted.

Sam said nothing, just smirking as Dean went to turn on the radio.

“What?” He snapped when he saw Sam’s face.

“Oh I’m not saying a word,” Sam said before sliding his fingers in front of his lips in a “zipping my lips” motion.

“Smart,” Dean grumbled, changing his mind on the radio and instead opting to watch the scenery.

After a few minutes silence became comfortable, and the five of you continued like that for hours. You were smashed up against the side of the Impala, Cas and Jack taking up most of the space, but once your leg went numb you could kind of ignore it.

The silence was peaceful, the most peace all of you had had in a while. You watched the sun dipped below the horizon with your head leaning against the cool glass of the window. Once the sun was down, however, you leaned back in your seat, resting your head against Castiel’s shoulder as you began to nod off. He didn’t say anything, but you felt him shift in his seat so that you could lean more comfortably on him. You didn’t often get this close to the angel, and if you’d been fully awake you would’ve probably been too self-conscious to take up so much of his personal space. But Cas didn’t mind, in fact he was almost flattered that you felt comfortable enough around him to sleep on him.

When the Impala reached its destination and Dean said, “Alright, let’s go,” he was surprised when Cas shushed him, gesturing to you.

“Should we—“

“Don’t wake her,” Sam said. “She hasn’t been sleeping too well lately. I’ll get her.”

“No I’ve got her,” Dean said, opening the backseat door and easing you away from Cas, lifting you easily into his arms.

“Cas?” You mumbled, stirring in Dean’s arms.

“Shh, go back to sleep kid.”

You didn’t argue, and within seconds you were dozing in Dean’s arms as he carried you into the motel room.

…

The five of you had to start early the next morning, but when Cas entered the room that you and your brothers were sharing, he found you still asleep.

“Can you get her up?” Dean called from the bathroom, a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth.

“Y/N?” You groaned as Cas shook your shoulder. “It’s time to go, c’mon.”

“I’ll stay here,” you mumbled before turning over and pulling your pillow over your head.

“I don’t think that’s an option,” Cas frowned.

“Cas,” Sam sighed. “You can’t wake her up like that.”

“Then how—“

“Alright, up!”

“Wait—“ you groaned as Sam grabbed your ankles and yanked you out of bed, an “oof!” Escaping you as you landed hard on your back.

“Let’s go,” Sam insisted, stepping over you to pack his bag.

“Jerk,” you grumbled as you started to get ready.

Twenty minutes later, you were on the road again, and the gentle lull of Baby’s engine had you dozing again.

“You sleep a lot,” you lifted your head at the sound of Jack’s voice, who was now sitting next to you instead of Cas.

“It’s the only way to cope though Dean’s playlist, if I was conscious I’d have to listen to it.”

“Hey, I can hear you!” Dean protested.

“Good, then maybe you’ll update your collection.”

The two of you bickered for a while before eventually giving up, and the car once again lapsed into comfortable silence. You leaned against the window, the purr of Baby’s engine and the miles of fields bringing a calm to you that you hadn’t been able to feel lately. It blanketed the car, creating a vortex of protection from the chaos that enthralled the lives of the people inside.

It felt as though as long as they were in the Impala, nothing could touch them. They were together, they were warm, and they were safe.

They were home.

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save-the-villainous-cat · 7 months

Note

If inspiration strikes, will you write a shorter hero x taller villain where the hero overworks themself and blacks out during a fight with the villain, and they take the othe rack to their lair/apartment and they flirt whilst the villain cares for the hero

The hero woke up several times: in the car, when the villain carried them upstairs, when they were in bed. Every time was like a fever dream and even though they needed a break, whenever they dipped back into sleep, they couldn’t find any rest. They woke up more exhausted again and again and couldn’t even say anything to the villain before they closed their eyes.

So, when they woke up at 3 AM for the last time, they felt the familiar headache and the pressure on their throat that made them want to throw up. Their mornings usually began with a fight for control. The hero hated vomiting and it took them quite some time in this dark room to calm down.

The soft bed they found themselves in smelled like their enemy, the hero realised. At least they could focus on that. On something else than the acid in their throat.

Somehow they managed to get up on shaky legs and turn on the lights. Instinctively, their mind wandered to their melatonin until they realised it was in their own bedroom. Sleep wouldn’t find them that easily again, then.

Their body ached as they moved towards the door, as if their muscles had been damaged permanently.

Eventually, they found the villain in the living room. They sat at the table, staring into their laptop and writing on a paper. Once they saw the hero (it took them awhile to realise they were there), their brows knitted together.

“You’re supposed to be in bed,” they said.

“I should probably go,” the hero answered. Some nervousness crept up on them and they couldn’t explain exactly why. It was probably the absence of their melatonin. “…thank you for saving me.”

The villain gave them a once-over and the hero noticed that they were wearing one of the villain’s shirts. Their body responded with a hot face and red ears. Shit, why hadn’t they noticed sooner?

“You were pretty out of it,” the villain said. They turned towards the hero and tilted their head. “Are you sure you want to go home right now? It’s late, well, early. You haven’t gotten your ten hours of beauty sleep yet.”

The hero smiled sarcastically.

“I get three hours if I’m good.” The villain looked at them again, a little more intense this time.

“You’re a natural beauty, then,” they said before they turned towards their work once again and left the hero with their flushed face.

“How romantic,” the hero said dryly. They decided to sit down next to the villain, crossing their arms on the table and putting their head on them. They remembered falling asleep like this in class when they were younger but now… “What are you working on?”

“Ah, some kidnapping plans. I got this annoying nemesis, you know.” Their voice was pretty soft for 3 AM.

“You’re an ass,” the hero hissed.

“This ass saved you, so be a little more grateful,” the villain answered. They shrugged. “You really scared me for a second. Almost smashed open your brains. I almost didn’t catch you.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I don’t know what’s been going on recently.”

“Recently?” They looked at each other.

“I can’t sleep anymore. I don’t know why. Nothing too traumatic happened. I am not sick or anything. I just can’t rest. Even sleeping is restless.”

“Sexual intercourse is supposed to help with that,” the villain said, grinning, and the hero’s face started to turn red once again. “I’m joking. But I get what you mean. Some nights are harder than others.”

The villain paused, looked at the things they had written down.

“But if you want to, I’m going to bed now and you can join me. Maybe it helps, I don’t know.” The villain’s eyes widened when they saw the hero. “Just sleeping, of course.”

They stood up and leaned forward, their nose a few centimetres away from the hero’s. Their grin was back.

“Unless…”

The hero rolled their eyes but some part of their brain wanted a little more than the villain suggested.

#not proofread #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #hero #villain #heroes and villains #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request

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yellowflowerbub · 11 months

Text

small business

꒷︶ ̇ ̟ ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇ ︶꒷

summary. you and gojo run the snacks stand for your class together

wordcount. 1k

pairing(s). teen!gojo satoru x reader

tag(s). friendly banter, gender neutral reader

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The school festival is busy. Students scurry through the building and the outskirts of the premises like rodents, every inch of the school from closet to hallway is drenched in the stench of school spirit. Silence is something you won’t hear until you return home as the whole of the student body fills the air with inaudible conversation.

The room you inhabit has little to no decoration, in comparison to the rooms adjacent to your own, the classroom is wholly bare. The stand you’ve thrown together consists of brands of sweets organized at random. In front of the table is a sign that reads, “Candy 400 Yen Each”. Running the stand and sitting behind the table along with you is Gojo Satoru. He doesn’t appear to be any more elated to run the stand than you are.

“Can’t we just pack up?” Gojo groans, he’s been steadily complaining for the better of an hour. It’s almost admirable how someone can remain this verbally annoyed for this long.

“No, we haven’t gotten anywhere near our class’ goal.” You reiterate while recounting how much you’ve earned as of now. 1,600 yen. 19,400 yen to go.

He whines, leaning back in his chair, “But we’re nowhere near getting to our class goal!”

“I just said that.”

“How can they expect us to get that much money in a day from these kids? Everyone keeps walking past our room ‘cause it looks like there’s no one in here.” He twists around in his chair restlessly, kicking up his legs over the armrest and planting them back onto the floor, folding his legs under one another before pulling his knees up to his chest.

“That’s a great idea, Gojo. You should go out and tell people that there actually is a stand in this room.” You suggest, pushing on his shoulder as you do.

His glasses plummet to the tip of his nose as he jerks out of his seat, “I can’t do that! They’d just walk past me. I’d rather jump off the roof than have an underclassman ignore me and chase after them. God that sounds humiliating.”

You don’t bother responding to him. At some point amongst the nagging, a student wanders through the door. Gojos eyes shoot to the student then to you.

“Hi, we’re selling sweets for our school's fundraiser. Everything we’ve got is on this table.” You gesture to the array of candy.

The student looks nervous, almost unreasonably nervous for the circumstances. They feel around in their pants pockets and pull a few coins from one of the back ones. “Can I buy two chocolates?” They ask holding up the coins in one hand and a two in the other.

“Sure, that’s 800 yen. You can drop it in that jar to your right.”

They hum, grabbing the candy and flipping the coins in their respected place.

Gojo looks antsy. The tips of his thin fingers drum on his thigh and his poor posture, fixed eyes, and chattering teeth make him look predatory. Too bad this energy is directed toward the kid who looked like they’d shit themselves before they came in.

“Why stop at two pieces of chocolate? We have too much shit to only grab one thing.” He speaks like a salesman, a stark change in tone from the groaning and whining senior he made himself out to be a moment ago.

“Oh,” They sound startled, “Well, I’m just not that.. hungry.”

“Bullshit,” They jump, “I know an exhausted student when I see one.” He does not.

“Really, I promise I’m not tired at all.” They stammer yet Gojo persists.

“Look at those bags under your eyes, you must not have had any sleep last night. Boy have I got just the thing you need.” At this point, you’re sure this is the cap on how much money you’ll be making today.

“If I put more money in, will you let me leave?’

“Yes.”

Without another word the student drops the rest of what remained in their hand straight into the donation jar and leaves as quickly as they’d come. You resist a strong urge to drag your hands down your face.

“Dude.”

“Yup?”

“You’re so oblivious it’s infuriating.”

Gojo scoffs, “I am not! You’re too much of a pushover to see when a customer needs to be pushed a bit.”

“‘Pushed a bit’ is an extreme understatement. You nearly made that kid shit themself.” You outstretched to tip the donation jar toward yourself, “Speaking of shit, stop swearing while we’ve got customers.”

His countenance twists into one of genuine confusion, it hadn’t wrapped around his diminutive mind how he could come off as pushy. In his eyes, some people, especially those younger than himself, needed a little push, “Really?”

“Yes.” You deadpan.

Despite his idiocy, Gojo is immensely intelligent in reading people. Of course you probably wouldn’t be making any more money if word gets out that some asshole is berating underclassmen for the few bucks they’d brought to spend however, that kid was loaded.

“Holy- that kid had 8,000 yen on them! We’re close to being done with this now!”

You could see Gojo being physically inflated with pride. With his pointer finger he nudges his shades further up the bridge of his nose, “See?”

You continue to count the money once more.

“I’m like, the best at reading people.” He boasts, “If it were just you here, you would’ve let everyone waltz out that door without asking them for anything else. I’m just too good. Maybe I should look into sales.” It looks like he'll burst if he pumps his pride any further. You might not be able to drag him down to earth, he’ll continue to drift away until his ego is out of plebeian reach.

“Do you think I’d look good as a car salesman? Hm~?”

“Absolutely not, stick to sorcery.” He deflates.

“Damn! You’re so ruthless. I’ve got some feeling in my heart!”

“Unfortunately, most of it is complete and utter idiocy.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

a/n: in honor of the new jjk season coming out

Feedback and Reblogs are Appreciated!

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #teen gojo #teen gojo x reader #jjk fluff #gojo saturo

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minniepetals · 1 year

Text

cry me a river | the snakes

— summary: you're left on your own to save your own self

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, mafia!au

— word count: 7.8k

— warnings: kidnapping, allusions to torture

— PART 19 / previous post / masterpost

“..lady.? My lady..?”

A vision of blur, a haze falling over your eyes, yet slowly but surely, you’re beginning to come back to yourself as the aching pain in the back of your head becomes more and more apparent with your consciousness beginning to return.

You find Sunoo who stares down at you with much worry, his eyes frightful and shaky, brows arched in a furrow, his lips quivering a bit. He probably felt you stir and realized you were finally coming around again because when you start to rise from the cold, hard floor, he’s right there to help steady you.

You take a moment to blink hard, trying to get rid of the hazy vision, and in the darkness of the room, your eyes slowly adjust to the low light as you make out someplace that looks like some sort of cell.

“Are you alright?” Sunoo asks after you but before you can answer him, another voice comes in.

“How’s your head?” You almost jump, quick to turn at the source in a defensive stance as you realize you aren’t alone in this cell with the little boy. There’s someone else, someone familiar, someone you know. “There’s no need to be so alarmed, I won’t go near you,” he says, voice low and calm for the strange situation you’re placed in.

“...Yoongi?”

He remains in the darkness but even then you can make out his figure as he sits in a corner, an arm on his propped-up knee, relaxed against the wall behind him as if it’s been some time since he’s arrived here.

You turn back at Sunoo who gives you an innocent shrug before putting your focus back on your ex-boyfriend.

“What’re you doing here?”

“The same reason the two of you are here.”

Your brows crease. “You know Nari?”

He shrugs lightly, “You could say that,” before repeating the question to you. “And you?”

“..Well.” Your answer is short and curt, refusing to let anything reveal itself, but Yoongi accepts it, not pressing you any further in the same way you don’t press for him.

When you hear the little boy behind you shiver slightly against the coldness of this room, you give up on being so defensive against Yoongi and turn back around as you take your jacket off to drape it over Sunoo.

“Is your thigh okay?” You ask, patting lightly on his right leg. “You let me lay on you for support when I was unconscious, don’t do that again. In times like this, you have to worry about yourself first and foremost. I’m stronger than you after all. I can withstand the cold and sleeping on the hard floor isn’t something I haven’t gotten used to.” The White Room was always like this after all. Like a prison cell.

Just brighter.

He presses his lips into a thin line at your chiding, head lowered as he hunches up his shoulders, shrinking at your demand. “I’m sorry.”

You accept it with a hum. “How long have I been out?”

“Um…it’s been a few hours...I think.”

Good. A day hasn’t passed.

“Did any of them hurt you when I was unconscious?”

He shakes his head and you try to detect any lies in his eyes but Sunoo beckons over at Yoongi unexpectedly. “The mister helped me when one of the guys tried to hit me.”

You turn towards the man, who doesn’t react one bit. Well, Yoongi’s never been one to stand down when he sees violence displayed against innocents, especially when it comes to children, so that much isn’t a surprise. Though it does beg the question of just how he got here, when, and why. What’s his connection with Nari? In the three years you’d spent with him, Yoongi is known to be a man who doesn’t stick out too easily, not in the way Jimin or Seokjin does, so he’s not one to attract personal enemies all on his own.

So what’s the deal with Nari? How did he get kidnapped in the first place? And why are you here on the same day as him? You haven’t seen Nari in a while but perhaps she’s been keeping up with what you’ve been doing ever since your last encounter.

She’s obsessed like that after all, not one to simply let things go especially when it comes to someone she feels inferior towards. But she’s never had the chance to go after you with all that she wishes without your father constantly by your side.

She saw an opportunity and took it.

He’s gone now after all.

But isn’t her father still alive? Did her father ask her to kidnap you? No, maybe it was Nari who took it upon herself to take you away. You wouldn’t put it past her.

You look around the cell room, trying to find a weak spot but there are no windows, no holes in the walls, nothing on the ground that can lead to some secret passageway a previous prisoner has decided to dig themselves out from.

The only escape is through the bars right in front of you. Solid, strong bars that seem to be well taken care of without much rust seen on them.

“I assume you were taken alone,” you speak into the silence after leaving Sunoo’s side, voice low as you eye the outside of the bars. Yoongi hums in response. “You think anyone would think to suspect Nari on your end?”

“No,” he states with a sigh. “None of the boys know I even know Nari.”

You turn from the bars, raising a brow as you lean your back against them, arms crossing before your chest with a heel held up against one of the bars. “Who would have thought you have your own secrets you keep hidden from them.”

Yoongi shrugs at your accusation, not denying it as he looks off to the side, eyes falling a bit distant. “Everyone has secrets. Some are better at keeping them than others.” He pauses. “Like you.”

“Well,” you look away at his accusation, “it’s true that no one alive knows of my connection with Nari, which will make it harder to suspect her. Nari isn’t someone who will keep evidence behind for people to find, whether on accident or on purpose. Her people are always there to pick up after what she misses, they’re all meticulous like that, so if none of our people know to connect her with us, that means the only people who can get us out of here is ourselves.”

“You plan to leave with me?” Yoongi raises a brow, suspicion falling your way.

“I killed Namjoon’s brother,” you look back at him, eyes pointed without a bit of falter in them, “I might as well rescue one of his boyfriends if I’m given the chance.” Yoongi watches you, steadily, to deject any weakness, anything at all, but you’re too good to show any emotions whatsoever, and after a brief glance made at your bandaged neck, he looks away, wondering where the girl he saw back at the manor went.

Weakened and out of control.

It seems the further away you are from your Reapers, the easier it is to distance yourself from emotions, from feeling. It’s probably your body’s way of protecting itself, knowing just when to shut down and keep your guard up with the strongest steel, not leaving any gaps behind.

Your Reapers are probably the only escape you can find to help you feel anything, though Yoongi guesses even then, you probably don’t know just how to release everything you actually want to feel. Whatever you’ve gone through, whatever secrets you’ve kept from them back when you were still in love, and the new secrets you’ve created after the divorce, they’re all things he knows he will never come to know the answers to.

Not unless you tell them yourself.

You hurt, you lie, but it is all to protect yourself. He wonders if Namjoon had never forced you out of the Bangtan manor would you have been able to let your guard down a little more? He wonders if you would have allowed them to protect you.

It wouldn’t have been an easy journey but he wonders if you would have been able to trust them a little more in the love that you held for them.

“Mingyu.”

In the silence of the empty bedroom where the little kid should have been, Dasom’s call is loud and clear as he simply stares at the neatly made bed in the right corner of the room, left untouched.

It’s one in the morning, Sunoo’s roommate has been moved to another room in order to be with his friends, that way sleeping would be easier for him, that way he’d feel a little less guilty about something he has no purpose in worrying over.

“Do you think they’re together?”

You also should have returned hours ago but when one of the Reapers went to pick you up, there were no signs of you anywhere.

Just the same as Sunoo.

“Boss knows how to take care of herself, she would have never fallen into the hands of someone else.” He steps over to examine the boy’s desk, two books sprawled messily, three more held up on a small shelf, a pencil cup, a notebook. “She also knows how to defend herself while protecting others. But,” he takes a book from the desk to flip through its pages, “not unless she was outnumbered and there was a defenseless child involved. Boss would never risk the chances of them getting hurt.”

“So you confirm that they’re together.”

He nods at Dasom’s question and finds the headmaster letting out a sigh of relief at that.

“Yeonjun.” He calls, and the younger man is instantly by his side.

“All the security cameras around here have all been destroyed. The only thing I found was through The Academy’s security cameras but the only glimpse I got from both boss and the little boy is that they headed towards Garden street. The camera doesn’t span very far though. Boss’s gadgets have been turned off a few blocks away but we searched all around and we’ve found nothing to note of her belongings.”

“They either took it with them and destroyed it at a different scene or they have it on them at the moment.”

“Either way, they’re meticulous,” Dasom says after Mingyu as she turns to stare out at the window of the little boy’s room. “No evidence left behind, and they took them hours before anyone saw any of them.” She thinks for a moment as the two boys continue trying to look through the room, before Dasom turns back around, her arms crossed over her chest. “You don’t think it’s someone from her past…do you?”

Mingyu pauses for a second before proceeding to speak. “We can’t rule out anyone but if it is someone from boss’s past,” he glances Yeonjun’s way, “it’ll be a headache to try and figure out who it is that’s bold enough to kidnap boss. Especially with how secretive she is with everything.”

He runs a hand through his hair, already feeling the migraine coming through.

Loud footsteps echo suddenly into the silence of the hallway, coming closer and closer, and in an instant, you have Sunoo behind you, away from the bars of the cell with an arm held out to cage him back from whoever it is that’s on their way here.

Yoongi looks up on high alert, prepared just as you are, though you both know you can’t make it out as easily as you hope to. But getting any information no matter the circumstances is vital and you’re prepared to do anything to try and find a way out.

No one from the outside can help you after all. None of your people, both yours and Yoongis’ know about your connection with Nari. They’ve never had any reason to suspect it after all, so why would they start now? And with you being so secretive and Yoongi having his own reasons for hiding things, there’s no way anyone outside can find anything to start suspecting.

The guards come in five, all of them buff and tall, and you can feel the beat of your heart drumming harshly against your chest, the memories and trauma wishing to tear you apart but you take deep, deep breaths, steadying yourself.

Mingyu’s taught you techniques to calm yourself down when you feel as if your life will be in danger. He’s taught you how to control the beat of your heart, how to manipulate your mind into thinking things are okay when they really aren’t.

You’ve been placed in scenarios where you’ve had to toughen yourself and let your mind pretend you’re fine before so you know you can do this. If these men are hoping to grab you and take you away to wherever, you can manipulate yourself into believing their touches are not those of men.

As long as you’re prepared beforehand, you can do it.

So you close your eyes when you hear the sound of the chains on the lock moving about, knowing that it is to be opened any second now, preparing yourself for whatever it is to come.

“Mr. Min.”

And yet they call for Yoongi instead.

You look over to where two of them move to him just as another follows but stays a few steps behind, giving you a simple glance with piercing dark eyes that tells you if you were to make one wrong move, Sunoo will have to pay the price.

Both you and Yoongi aren’t dumb enough to make a mistake in costing the life of a child.

So you watch as they place a blindfold over his eyes — a smart move on their part because there’s always a risk prisoners will try to find ways to escape during the maneuvers from their cells — and tie his hands together from behind, pushing him out the cell.

When the door clangs closed and the cell is locked up once again, you hear Sunoo let out a quiet breath of relief just as the six of them all leave.

“What will happen to that mister?” Sunoo asks, his hands trembling when he tugs onto your sleeve, his eyes looking up at you with big brown eyes when you turn to him. He looks frightened, afraid of the fate that is to come to him, so you press a hand on his head to try and comfort him somewhat.

“I don’t know,” you admit, not wanting to sugarcoat things because you know he probably already understands to an extent what is to come for Yoongi.

Everything depends on what Yoongi means to Nari’s gang — the Viper gang — and how he got involved with them in the first place. Did he piss them off? Somehow that seems a bit unlikely in your opinion. The Yoongi you knew isn’t someone who goes around messing with other gang members that have no association with Namjoon and his orders. He listens to whatever Namjoon tells him, they all do, so he wouldn’t deliberately piss someone off accidentally or due to personal reasons. Yoongi is careful, calculated, and minds his own business.

Whatever his relationship is with the snakes, whatever brought him to be a target under Nari’s radar, that will be what determines his fate in the end.

“What about us? Will we be next?”

He looks so small beside you. It reminds you of the time you first met him down in the undergrounds, a frail little kid so bony the small clothes they had him in couldn’t even fit him properly. Sunoo was malnourished, just like the rest of the kids down there, but in the few months you had them in The Academy, he’s been able to grow some fat and muscles. One day he’ll look his age.

If we manage to get out of here, that is.

You aren’t too worried about him though because if there’s one thing you know about Nari, it’s that she has a soft spot for kids.

She’s a tough nut to crack but in the time you spent with her, you came to realize that Nari, no matter how spoiled of a brat and narcissistic she is, at the end of the day, she cares for something. Perhaps it’s the only thing that has kept her sane in all the years she’s lived as a daughter of a mafioso.

Every child is a victim in the end.

The parents are all to blame.

“You’ll be fine,” so you tell Sunoo, a promise he knows you wouldn’t give him unless you were absolutely confident. You aren’t someone who will lie just for the sake of things after all. You’re strict and hard on everyone, including the kids, and in the adult world of lies, your truth has always been something they could rely on.

“And you?” He asks, and when you don’t give him a reply in return, Sunoo’s brows crease with fright and anger, the sort of expression he didn’t give you when he thought about his situation. It’s admirable the way he cares more for you instead. He was the same for his fellow friends when they were under Ying’s reins.

“You should worry more about yourself.” You turn your body fully his way, pulling the collar of his jacket closer around his neck, then slide your hand through the right of his pocket where you remember he hid the snack he offered you hours before. “Eat. You need your strength.”

“But-”

“Do not disobey me, Sunoo.” When you use his name, he closes his mouth shut. Despite the protest still seen on his face, he listens to your words because he knows he has no other choice. You only stop looking at him with a hardened expression once he’s torn the snack open and begin to bite on it. “If there is something you must know, if you wish to protect me in your own way, that is,” his ears perk up, attention on full display, and you give him a pointed stare, “do not cry.”

It is easier said than done.

Surely you must know it isn’t easy for a child to obey those words no matter how much an adult tells them they shouldn’t cry, right?

Of course you know.

You know more than anyone.

How many times has father punished you for going against the things he wished for you to do? How many times were you weak when he asked you to be strong? How many times did you still tremble before a gun when he asked you to master it? How many tears did you shed when he commanded no emotions out of you?

It took time to become the puppet your father wished for you to be and despite having mastered it so well you still have his thoughts instilled into you after his death, it wasn’t something that happened automatically after one day.

Still, you ask of Sunoo to listen to this one command.

“When they torture me and hurt me, when you hear my cries and screams, do not cry. Do not move a single inch. Do not show your emotions to the enemies.”

It is the very words you uttered to your Reapers when your father still lived.

Yoongi doesn’t return.

But the guards do.

And when they do, they take you away without Sunoo, who in turn panics instantly, his face contoured with pain and affliction, fear consuming his thoughts they indicate so clear in his eyes. But you stop him from wanting to go at it with the guards before he gets himself into trouble with a simple look.

That look is enough to have him freeze in place as he remembers the command you gave him prior to the guards returning. He takes it in, watching as the guards tie your hands up behind your back, a blindfold covering your eyes.

The last thing you see is the struggle he holds plastering his expression; a struggle of knowing he must do one thing but wanting to do something else.

He wants to protect you, to rid of the men who’re taking you away to wherever they may hurt you, and yet the words you told him lets him remember that if he does actually want to protect you, the only way he can do so is by doing nothing.

By pretending none of this is affecting him.

By holding no emotions.

Just as the Reapers once had to follow and obey when they lived by your father’s side, watching day in and day out when you would make a small mistake and get punished for it.

Watching.

All the while pretending to be robots who cared about nothing.

If a Reaper fails this task, you would be on the verge of death and the Reaper would never see what tomorrow looks like.

Sunoo may not understand it yet and Sunoo may never understand it but you see the way he falls with conflict in the same way Yuna used to look. In the same way Yeonjun did, and Dasom did. In the same way Mingyu did.

And the rest of the Reapers.

The battle between wanting to care but knowing that is the most dangerous risk one can take.

You’re sure he’s holding onto the bars of the cells when the doors lock shut and when you’re escorted away. He calls after you, small voice breaking with despair and fear not for him but for you.

You know that deep down he must worry about what’s going to happen to him, about the fate that lies before him for the next few days, and yet right now the only thing that really matters to him is your well-being.

You chuckle to yourself.

He really does remind you of the Reapers. He’s got the heart of one, though you know you can never allow him to serve by your side.

Yeonjun has and will be the only youngest member of your guards.

You count each step you take being escorted away, having hope in Sunoo being okay, knowing to keep your head alerted at all times.

The blindfold serves no weakness; it isn’t see-through and you can’t see anything whether you look up, down, or sideways. It’s completely see-proof. So the only thing you can rely on is counting every step you take, as well as the twists and turns you make through the hall of the cells.

If you ever have to return to these cells for Sunoo or whatever the reason, you can rely on your memorization skills. You’ve done it before in the maze of Leehyun’s mansion.

A door opens, a few more steps, and the ropes fall from your wrists, replaced by two chains on each wrist, holding your arms up from the wall it’s chained to. Only after they’ve secured you do the blindfold get taken off.

And then, you take a deep breath, knowing the pain will now be coming.

“Poor little girl, still waiting for her happy ending.”

You look up at the familiar voice, wanting to laugh at the words she just uttered while her heels click under each step she takes.

Happy ending, what a joke.

“No one is coming to save you. Get up.”

Exhausted and in pain from almost everywhere, you still listen to Nari’s command as you place a palm on the floor, taking effort in holding your body up as it trembles from wanting to keep strength. You see blood dripping onto the floor, having fallen from your head, yet you can’t take your time to think or keep yourself steady because the chain is forcefully pulling you up once again, causing you to let out a little scream of pain.

Nari looks amused.

“How wonderful it is to finally be able to do this,” she says, her smile bright as she claps her hands together, shoulder hunching with delight. “Buttercup, you don’t know how happy I am to see you in such a state. I wish your father had allowed me to let me play with you in the way he allowed the rest of his toys to do so.”

“That’s never stopped you.”

“Right, right,” she nods at your comment, remembering those times as if it was a fond memory to look back on. “But father always reprimanded me once he found out. It was your father that had to pacify my father in the end.” She lets out a sigh, releasing her hands. “Isn’t it such a shame my father was so fond of you and your father was fond of me? What a twist in a fairytale.”

As if she’s ever had to struggle through a father’s lack of love.

“But then again, you’ve always had it far worse than me, didn’t you? Father would never let anyone hurt me after all.”

You feel your consciousness coming in and out, eyes a blur, sometimes too dark to see anything.

“Tell me, buttercup,” Nari holds your chin up by the tip of her fan, not wanting to get herself dirty in the slightest, and if you could spit in her face you would but you know better than that. “Aren’t you upset your father’s death hasn’t done you any benefit? I mean look at you. You’ve been going after everyone that’s done you wrong and yet they still do things to your head, don’t they?” She pokes you hard on the head, causing your body to stumble back.

Yet you keep your legs steady. You have no other choice, if you were to let your legs give in, the chains holding your arms up would tear them apart.

“You aren’t as smart as you believe, buttercup. I mean look at you, in the palm of my hands before you could even get to me.”

You sway a bit to the side so you let your right leg take a step towards it, keeping your upward stance. “You were never on the list of guys I wanted to go after.”

“Yes I was!” Nari’s quick to deny, her bold brows knitting between each other, those pearly white teeth bearing against one another. “You were going to come after me sooner or later! You’re just mad I got to you before you could me.”

“Why would I go after you, Nari?” You look straight at her despite your blurring vision, a light chuckle leaving you. “You never posed a threat to me.”

She seethes at your words, offended you would think so little of her after all the time she’s spent trying to make your life a living hell by making fun of you and picking on you whenever she got the chance. She would flaunt your father’s kind attention towards her whereas he always acted indifferent towards you. There were times when she’d order her people to hurt you, times when she’d pretend you did her wrong in front of your father, just to prove and show off the fact that he cared more for someone’s daughter than his own.

Though you always knew the truth behind all of that.

Nari had always been insecure when it came to you. It was your beauty that made her pay attention to you in the first place, because before you walked into her life, she was the prettiest anyone had ever seen, yet the attention flew your way the second you walked by.

Her father and the people that served under her shifting their attention fueled her insecurities.

For a good while you had let her get under your skin because she was right, father always acted as if he cared for other people’s daughter than his own, than you, but the person you are now knows he’s still a psychopath who doesn’t actually care for anyone.

Father always did what he had to do in order to bring forth allies.

He never cared for Nari in the way she thinks he does.

“You’re wrong! I am a threat to you!!” She bellows in a loud screech, already throwing a tantrum upon such simple words. If you’d known these small ticks would get to her, you should have used it against her in the past.

Too bad your past self was too kind and naive though.

“Your father cared for me in the way he’d never care for you! And I’m pretty!” She lands a hard slap on your face before stepping forward to put her hands on your shoulders, shaking you hysterically, forgetting the fact that she hates getting blood on her body. “Look at you, buttercup, look at how you look right now. You’ve got blood running down your head, you’re chained up against your will, barely able to stand on your two feet. You think you look pretty right now?”

You laugh at her naive way of thinking. It’s a bad idea, Nari’s got a big head with a huge ego and anyone who threatens that — her beauty most of all — will be on the receiving end of her wrath, whether they mean to or not.

“You really think a few hits in the face will cause those heads to turn away?” Still, you provoke her, wanting to have fun in the way you never could when you were younger; always the one who got the punch and never stood up for yourself.

What a pitiful little thing.

Nari’s right about one thing; Nobody is coming to save you.

Her head is quick to snap towards her men in the room, who aren’t fast enough to avert their attention from you. So in that split moment she caught them staring, it only adds fuel to the fire, and you laugh a little louder when she starts screaming.

“Careful, little celery, you almost look like you want to kill them yourself. But don’t you hate doing the dirty work?”

Min Nari.

Minari. The Korean word meaning water celery, a nickname she hates most of all, and along with the fact that she finally realizes she’s tainted her hands by touching you out of anger, she flinches when she catches sight of the blood on her palms. Her eyes bulge, disgust morphing her expression as if she was a germaphobe.

She’s not. She’s just dramatic.

The door clicks open before she can let out another shriek of ire, a voice walking in. “My little princess,” he calls, and Nari is quick to answer to the nickname that’s been bestowed to her.

“Papa! Y/N is—” Her breath hitches suddenly, shoulders flinching, and when you find the sight of her face morphed with something that looks like guilt, you realize perhaps her father didn’t know about this whole setup with you.

Though it’s not the only thing that surprises you today.

Min Yoongi, low and behold, comes walking in right behind the head of the Viper gang, along with a few more members of their force, without a scratch on his face.

So he isn’t an enemy of theirs?

Then just what is his relation to the snakes?

When he meets your eyes among Nari’s sudden silence and Junmyeon, her father, who looks as if he just walked into a scene his eyes weren’t meant to see, Yoongi’s eyes widen slightly at the state you’re in. Though he’s quick to mask that moment of weakness away before anyone else, aside from you, can notice.

He blinks, looks between you and Junmyeon, and you know you shouldn’t reveal anything about your relationship.

Not that you were going to.

“What are you doing?” Junmyeon, that old man, is quick to scold Nari though not without panic. “Quick! Release her!” He commands the nearby men and being that the head of their gang has given them the order, they know not to be in defiance no matter how much Nari begins to refute.

“Papa! You can’t do that!”

“Don’t you know who Y/N is now?” He rushes over to where you fall to the floor the instant the chains are loosened, but freezes when you hold a hand up, asking him not to touch you. He looks frantic, eyes scanning the area everywhere, and Nari doesn’t understand the reason behind his panic. “The Reapers are our allies! You can’t go around kidnapping and hurting just anyone, princess, especially not the new head.”

“Why does that matter?” She complains, her nose flared as she watches the way her father rushes to unlock the chains around your wrists himself. “Papa, you’ve always let me do everything I’ve wanted, why’re you stopping me now?”

She stomps over to where the two of you are, pushing her father aside and grabbing the chain that’s still on you, yanking it so that you’re forced to pull away from Junmyeon, the metal around your wrist digging further into your skin.

“Don’t you love me?!” She shouts, lower lip jutting out into a pout as she ignores her disgust for blood and all things dirty, sitting behind you and bringing her free arm around your neck, pulling you flushed against her chest. “Why do you always care so much about Y/N?”

What a child, still throwing tantrums when things aren’t going her way.

“Princess, I know you’re upset but please—”

His appeasement only makes her more upset. “I want her gone!”

“Get away from Y/N, please. She’s the Grim Reaper.”

“And?!” She tightens her hold around your neck. “She got that title handed down to her only because her father died! If her father hadn’t died, she’d still be living under his shadows. What makes you think she’s strong enough to go against others, much less me? She’d be nothing without her father’s men.”

What a foolish little girl.

You see the way Yoongi looks off to the side and the way dread and alarm contour Junmyeon’s face.

“Don’t you know why her father died?” Well, when speaking to the leaders of your father’s old allies, you did only exchanged words with the heads, not anyone else, so you guess you shouldn’t blame Nari too much for being left in the dark.

“He was murdered, why else?”

“By Y/N!”

By Y/N.

By you.

You feel Nari tense up in an instant, the grip she has on you frozen in place, and even though you can’t see it, you know her face must have quite the amusing expression plastered on now that the cat has finally gotten out of the bag.

“B-but…”

When her doubts kick in, ready to rebuttal her father’s words, Junmyeon continues speaking. “Bangtan saw her the day the former Reaper died, Yoongi can confirm it with his eyes.” Nari looks his way. “And a few weeks prior, Y/N met up with each leader of the Reapers’ allies and we, in turn, helped her plan her betrayal.”

What a day that was, seeing the expressions on the allies’ faces when you met up with them secretly without your father. They questioned what was going on, wondering why the Reaper’s daughter would ever seek out an audience with them without her father. You were always with your father when meetings were held after all, never alone, never away, and when you brought everything you had to the tables, threatening them with things beyond their abilities, they all eventually came to comply.

All you asked was for loyalty in return and loyalty in the mafia world is a code that must never be broken.

Not unless someone more powerful offers them something better than you can.

You forced them to break their loyalty to your father, you’re sure there may be others out there who can try and lead them astray from you, but at the moment, no one is more powerful than you.

The same goes for the Reapers.

You only decided to discard your father’s men rather than use them against him because you needed absolute loyalty. If they would be willing to betray your father for you, that meant they could betray you for someone else. And the Reapers in your hand are people you know would never betray you. You gave them the one thing no one in this world could, after all.

You saved them.

And they, in turn, gave you their life.

Your father’s allies all have the chance of stabbing you behind your back but that’s all the more reason you keep your Reapers beside you. With them, there are no loopholes, and no one will leave your eyes if one were to plot treason.

Though you never expected a certain spoiled brat would think to kidnap you, using a child to make you comply.

You admit that was smart on her part.

But now she’ll be facing the consequences of her action.

Junmyeon lowers his head before you, hands lying flat on the floor, bobbing his head up and down, forehead meeting the wooden tiles beneath him each time.

“I apologize, Y/N, please forgive me,” he begs.

“Papa, why’re you bowing to her?!” Nari still doesn’t understand.

“Nari!” So he calls her name for the first time, a rough, scolding tone in his voice as he levels her a glare. He’s never used her name before when addressing her. “Beg on your knees now or our gang will go down in history.” He returns to bowing again and again your way.

Smart man.

Yet Nari leaves your side to push her father from his repeated action, anger surging further for her father not listening to her and not being able to let things go the way she wants. “Stop it! Stop! Stop bowing to her! She’s nothing!”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Nari.” Her head snaps back your way, glare now leveled your way as you find her eyes red, stinging with unshed tears.

“Shut up!” She shouts at you, her emotions getting the best of her as she marches your way once more to land a loud slap that echoes into the room.

The room falls frozen though Nari breathes hard through her teeth, still in denial she’s in a position beneath you, still not wanting to accept it. She refuses to.

And while everyone else around her has turned solid cold, you only let out a hysterical laugh that makes Yoongi look at you with concern, Junmyeon and his men’s expression fall with terror, all the while Nari seethes even more, her face now more red than it’s ever been.

She turns away, stomping when she leaves the room, only to return seconds later with a certain child in custody, her hand wrapped around his neck while the other points the tip of the gun on his temple.

“Stop laughing or I’ll kill him! I will do it!” She threatens in a loud shriek before the corner of her lips curls into a smirk that shakes unsteadily.

She’s frightened of the power you still have hidden up your sleeves, but she still wants things to go her way.

“I know you care for children, buttercup, you wouldn’t let me hurt him now would you?”

Speak for yourself.

Sunoo stands there against his will, and when you meet his eyes, he’s calling out to you. What happened to you, my lady? Why are you hurt? Despite the fear instilled in his eyes (because what sort of child wouldn’t be frightened of a gun pointed to their head), he still watches you with panic and worry. His eyes show anger, and for a second he scans the room, wanting to know just who it is that has caused you to look the way you do, but he returns to you as quickly as they had left.

In a state where he should be more worried about his own life, he puts you first.

That’s what makes him so strikingly similar to the Reapers.

“Nari-”

“And you!” She points her gun at the man who had spoken up, brows furrowed so deep her wrinkles are showing — a sight you know she hates more than anything. “Papa, why have you brought him back here! I thought you only cared for me so why would you bring brother back? He ran away on his own, you should have let him stay that way!”

Brother?

You quickly bring your attention to Yoongi, eyebrows raised, eyes widened, because of all the things you thought about Yoongi’s involvement with the Vipers, being Junmyeon’s son was never on the list.

Min Yoongi.

Min Nari.

Min Junmyeon.

Yoongi never told you he had a father who belonged to another gang, much less a sister. In all the times you spent with him, listening to his secrets and insecurities, he never mentioned any of this to you. And with the fact that he’s confirmed that Bangtan wouldn’t know to suspect the Vipers in his kidnapping, you’re sure he’s never told the boys either.

But why?

Now that you think about it, for all the years you’ve known the Viper gang, Junmyeon has never mentioned ever having a son, so…is Yoongi illegitimate or did he receive the same treatment you had?

Neglected and forsaken?

After all, for the longest time, no one knew your father had a daughter and that was all because he didn’t want anyone seeing just how incompetent his own daughter was. Only a few close allies knew of your existence, and after you grew strong, only then did he allow the world to know of you.

Though even then, you were still hidden from most of the world.

“I get it, I get it.” Junmyeon scrambles from the floors to where his daughter stands, hands out to try and appease his daughter. At the end of the day, he will always be a fool for his daughter. “I know you’re upset but hey, now that your brother’s back, you can play with him instead. I know you like having your way with Y/N but don’t you remember the times when you had fun with your brother?”

Fun.

Nari’s definition of fun is different from that of the average citizen, and when you look at Yoongi, he reacts with nothing but his eyes facing the floor, looking tired.

Yoongi. Min Yoongi, is not the type of person who likes torturing his prisoners. Not because he doesn’t like getting his hands dirty like Nari but because it disgusts him and he’d rather leave that to someone else. There are times he’ll stop the others from doing too much to the ones that’s done them wrong, times when he’ll leave the room and only return when the screams have died down.

Yoongi will never lay a hand on anyone unless someone has truly pissed him off, and it takes a lot to piss off Min Yoongi.

He doesn’t raise his voice, he doesn’t raise his hands even during times when it seems reasonable. He doesn’t get upset for himself but he’ll get upset for others, and even then it will take a lot on the other end to actually get him to do something.

You’ve seen Yoongi upset before, you know he’s capable of being the hard man Namjoon and the others are when they’re upset, but you’ve never seen him lose control to the point of wanting to punch someone until their death.

Min Yoongi doesn’t get angry.

And you think that perhaps he’s always been such a quiet man because the family he grew up with never cared to hear his voice.

Here is Junmyeon, his supposed father, trying his best to make his little princess happy, by using his own son as a way for her to take her anger out on.

In the end, every father in this world is messed up and the children are to pay for their actions.

Nari, messed in the head. Yoongi, letting them stomp on him.

“I don’t want Yoongi! I want Y/N!” Nari continues complaining like a child, stomping her feet and shaking the gun she has in her hand. “Papa, can’t you see? Ever since she walked into our life, my life has been a living hell!” What an exaggeration. If she really wants to see hell, you can show it to her. “She has the audacity to be prettier than me and laugh in my face! Papa, can’t you do something?”

“She’s the—”

“I don’t care!! Whatever Nari wants, Nari gets. Isn’t that what you’ve told me my whole life? So why are you stopping me from getting what I want now?”

“Because—”

“No one would know,” she says quickly. Quietly. “How would they know?” You raise a brow when she spares you a quick glance. “Her Reapers don't know of our relation, they wouldn’t know to suspect us. How many days have passed already, papa? Have you gotten any threats? And brother’s people don't know either because he’s good at keeping his mouth shut.” She looks between you and Yoongi, a smirk curling along her lips. This one is confident. This one is arrogant. “No one would know.”

“Princess…”

When Junmyeon continues arguing, she keeps going, trying to reel him in. “Papa, aren’t you ashamed to be worshiping the grounds of woman? I thought you were stronger than that, I thought you were more powerful. Now that I’ve gotten everything set up and no one knows to come for us, isn’t this the perfect opportunity to take back the power you had before the Reapers ever came into our life?”

What a cunning little girl, smarter than you expected.

She knows just what to say, knows what pushes her father’s buttons and what motivates him. It’s true that the Vipers have never been more powerful, much less on the same level, as the Reapers. Your father was a great emperor who ruled with strict guidance, leaving no room for discussion, and if he had to make his allies into his pawns and throw them out when they were no longer useful to him, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

The Vipers were just a gang he associated himself with to grow and they’ve been nothing but a pawn in his game of chess.

It’s true if they rid of you now, no one would suspect a thing and they would gain more power than they’ve ever had in their long line of reign. You’re powerful and strong and so is Yoongi, but with Nari using Sunoo against you, the two of you can’t think of escaping without the chances of Sunoo dying.

Junmyeon finally looks convinced when he glances your way, that impending smile on his face just waiting to come, and you lean your head back into the wall behind you, wanting to scoff at the situation.

Well. Looks like you can’t finish your revenge plan after all.

Only death awaits.

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