#this was inspired by mr marbles

[jamminvroomvroom]

our secret moments.

ln x fem!reader // childhood friend to lovers

in which you’re friends. best friends. but then you buy a dress for him to take off.

this one is for you guys. thank you for inspiring this, my beloved dress anons. i hope you guys love this as much as i do, and that i got it right for you! obsessed with the concepts and brain rot that went into this aaaaaaa lemme know what you think i beg <3 also sorry if the formatting gets weird, trying out smau elements again :D

songs to set the mood: DRESS by taylor swift

warnings: 18+!! minors dni! smut, oblivious friends to lovers, fluff, minor angst, mutual pining, general sex acts, language, an argument

5.6k words

-

your dress sparkles like a mirrorball as the lights flash along the strip.

vegas week begins with a bang; it’s the night of lando’s 24th birthday. the name of your dad’s company is plastered all over the city, as it usually is wherever there’s a race weekend. a round of golf leads to dinner plans and you get dressed up nice with your girlfriends.

you’re almost ready when lando texts you, your friends giving you a look that you brush off when they see the papaya heart next to his name. you tell him you’ll all be ready soon, that’ll you meet him and the boys in the lobby.

high heels sound against the marble floor of the hotel. you walk confidently, tall, scanning for the group of men you’ll be spending the evening with. you spot max fewtrell first, your dear friend here for the occasion, and then ash, who has his back to you. it’s because he’s talking to lando, your best friend, the man that made you fly in to sin city a week earlier than you would have liked.

he’s looking at you before you even see him, watching you walk towards him over ash’s shoulder. he’s checked out from the conversation the second he spots you, glittering under the chandeliers. he can’t breathe, because you’re wearing a dress that renders him somewhere between life and death.

but you’re getting closer, and max, who can see the look on lando’s awestruck face, nudges him so hard in the ribs. he forces himself to inhale, smile, keep breathing.

“good evening, mr norris.” you grin, squeezing his shoulder. “we starting with slots or drinks?”

both is the agreed upon answer, and you let loose in the casino. you watch him roll the dice at one of the game tables, and suddenly, you’re twelve years old again, playing board games on the floor of a hotel room, while your dads talk at the bar downstairs.

your father is, perhaps, the worlds biggest motorsport fan. he’d been sponsoring different series’ since you were little, and he hadn’t stopped expanding as you’d gotten older. that’s how you’d met lando, aged ten years old with braids in your hair, covered in mud, somewhere in the english countryside. you’d been going to kart races since you could walk, and you were sure from the first time you spoke to the small british boy that you’d be destined to meet him. he’d left a mark on you that day, something golden; he radiated sunshine.

your friendship flowed like wine over the years, nice and easy. time on the road with your father meant that lando was the friend you saw the most, and it stayed that way throughout your teenage years. lando’s step up into formula 1 was paired very well with your dad’s investment into mclaren, and five years later, you rarely missed a race.

lando was so easy to be friends with that it was only natural that he was just as easy to love. platonically. you loved him platonically. it was easy to have late night dinner’s with him in his hotel room, easy to walk around the cities you visited with him until your legs hurt, easy to fall asleep on his bed after a netflix binge. so when he told you to pack your bags and be in vegas, it was like he’d pulled an invisible string, because of course, that’s where you would be.

your friend is waving her hand in front of your face when you finally snap out of it. you’ve been staring across the room for god knows how long, and now the girls are laughing at you.

okay, so maybe it’s not just platonically, but you’d rather die than admit it.

“still gonna tell us there’s nothing between you?” nancy, one of your closest friends, teases. your other friend, mia, is giggling beside her. they’d both flown out for the race as well, and had spent the last two years helplessly watching you fall harder and faster.

“shut up,” you whine. “he’s my-“

“best friend.” they both cut you off in unison, mockingly. nancy rolls her eyes.

“he is!” you protest, waving them off.

you leave them in the dust to join the lads at the table. lando’s arm is draped over your shoulder the second you arrive.

“lost your millions yet?” you whisper into his ear. he tuts in response, knowing grin on his face.

“you have no faith in me, honey.” he bumped your hip with his as he spoke.

the game continues, and somehow, much to your surpise, lando gets richer. the walk from the casino to the club is short, and soon enough, you’re drunk and sweating under strobe lights. rounds and rounds of shots disappear and you sink deeper and deeper into the booth you’d reserved.

you let the music thrum through your body, closing your eyes in contentment. a knee nudges yours, and you open your eyes to see lando sliding into the booth next to you. he hands you a drink, and you mouth him a thank you.

“got your eye on anyone here?” lando’s head is resting in the crook of your neck when he asks. it’s obviously just so that you can hear him.

you pull back from him, scanning his face for a moment, really taking him in. the slope of his nose, curls matted on his forehead, grey blue eyes that you swear flit to your lips for just a second. just a brief second. you smile, soft and tired.

“nope.” you mouth back to him. “you?”

lando returns your smile, mirroring you perfectly. he shakes his head.

it’s around 3:30am when you crave the sweet release of sleep. your feet are aching and your head is throbbing. no questions are asked when lando offers you a piggyback ride.

you ignore the way your friends look at you both when he carries you up to your room.

youruser just posted on instagram

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youruser: sin city for nozza’s birthday

user: are they together?

otheruser: mother?

landonorris: lost millions.

user2: the photo of the dress next to the photos of lando? she’s tryna tell us something i think.

and 444 other comments

-

you ignore the nausea pooling in the pit of your belly.

apparently, the medical centre isn’t that far away when you sprint there. harsh fluorescent lights greet you when you burst through the door, searching for a mop of curls and a burst of orange. your eyes find adam, lando’s dad, and you rush to his side.

“is he okay?” something about the fear in your eyes makes adam crack a smile. it seems there’s no hiding how you feel from anyone except lando.

“they’re just checking him over now, think they might take him to the hospital, just to be safe.” adam explains. “he was asking for you.” he smiles again.

“so it’s just precautionary?” you ignore the last bit. you ignore the way it makes your stomach twist and your brain fight to keep a smile off of your face.

“you can see him, if you want.” adam gestures towards the nearest examination room.

you’re gone before he can say anything more, bursting into the room without even thinking of knocking.

lando’s pretty much stoned. god knows what they gave him but it seems to be working; he’s propped up on the bed, cracks a sleepy smile when he sees you.

“hey, pretty girl.” he drawls, waving slowly. you pray you’re not blushing.

“scared me out there, you prick.” you joke, but your voice shakes.

“c’mere.” he frowns, so you walk around his bed. he slaps the small spot next to him clumsily, and you perch on the edge of the bed.

lando grabs your hand, pulling you in closer, eyelids drooping as he does it.

“i’m sorry, honey. always wanna race well for you.” lando is pouting. he’s fucking pouting at you.

“hey, hey, it’s fine! as long as you’re okay.”

he nods like a child being told off, but he doesn’t drop your hand. he doesn’t drop it in the helicopter to the hospital, either.

youruser just posted on instagram

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youruser: alls well that ends well (but i’m in a new hell every time you go to the hospital)

landonorris: whoops?

user1: THE TAYLOR LYRICS HELLO?

user44: do y’all think we can’t see you.

user2: 3RD SLIDE HELLO?

yourfriendnancy: anyway. the dress ate.

otheruser: @ yourfriendnancy WHAT DO YOU KNOW

and 567 other comments

-

“i just don’t get why you keep wearing the fucking shoes if they hurt so much.” lando bumps your shoulder with his, teasing you.

“sometimes you do what you gotta do for the ‘fit.” you huff, trying to keep up with him.

you’re on your way to dinner with lando, marking your first night in dubai. the restaurant isn’t too far, but your shoes are simply not cooperating. you’d left lando to book a table, knowing that a name drop from him would mean good food and not too many people there to watch you both eat it. after vegas, the rumour mill was working overtime, and you’d had a headache for two days as a result.

none of your other friends have arrived in the emirates yet, so it leaves just the two of you to hang out. it’s something you usually love to do, but after the whirlwind of the last few days, it makes your tummy twist.

you can’t stop thinking about the hospital, your hand in his, the way he’d demanded you accompany him despite the presence of his literal father. you absolutely can’t stop thinking about “pretty girl” or the lazy smile on his face when he said it, like it was what he always called you. he usually sticks to honey, not the most platonic thing in the world, but he said it once and it just stuck.

you’re pulled out of your downward spiral by the way he suddenly comes to a stop in the middle of the pavement. you look at him confused, but then he’s making a suggestion that makes you want to lay done in front of an oncoming ferrari.

“want me to carry your shoes? you can put them on right before we go in.” lando shrugs. you must be blushing by the way he fights off a smile.

“lando, i cannot walk down the streets of dubai shoeless.” you scowl. he chuckles.

“says who? give ‘em here. you can wear mine if you want.” lando reasons, and after staring at him likes he’s grown a second head, you cave.

you start to crouch down but he beats you to it. your breath hitches in your throat when his fingers graze your ankle. you watch in shocked silence as he undoes each clasp, letting you step out of the shoes. the pavement is relatively cool under your feet, and it snaps you out of your state. you decline his offer of his own shoes, and he’s started walking again when you stop him.

“lando, why are you doing this?”

“you took good care of me last weekend. least i can do.” he tells you, and you nod once. “c’mon, we’re gonna be late.” he ushers you along and you walk the rest of the way in silence, silver heels swinging in his hand.

youruser just posted on instagram

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youruser: dinner w bestie

user: lando took this. bet.

user3: her other friends aren’t in abu dhabi yet she has to be with lando

landonorris: how was dinner?

youruser: @ landonorris u tell me.

user4: a date if i ever saw one?

user63: are we sure they’re not just friends?

user4: @ user63 girl. be so fr

and 329 other comments

-

the restaurant is licensed, so you find solace in a glass of white wine. lando sticks to water.

your mains arrive and you natter back and forth, discussing the end of the season and any gossip you may have acquired. you barely stop laughing, head thrown back every time he opens his mouth. it feels easy again, and you find yourself thawing out, previous worries shoved to the back of your mind.

“so what’s next year looking like? last year of your degree.” lando wiggles his eyebrows, wearing a hint of pride on his face.

“might have to stay away from race tracks for a while. it’s gonna be a busy year.” you sigh. his face obviously falls.

“how long is a while? need my cheerleader.” it’s said in jest, but desperation lies in the outskirts of his voice.

“until the summer break.” you frown. you’d gotten far too comfortable studying on the road.

“can’t you continue as you are? i’m gonna mis- your dad will miss you.” lando corrects himself and your fork clatters against your plate.

“can’t get rid of me too easily, norris.” you clean up the awkward mess before it can even become one, returning to the lighter side of the conversation.

“trust me, i’m not trying to.” he flirts. in jest.

you roll your eyes and gulp down wine.

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youruser: new heights n pretty lights

user2: i know who took 3/4 of these pics.

landonorris: i want that hat back btw

user6: she is the moment

user: mommy? huh who said that?

and 588 other comments

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lando.jpg: from the road

oscarpiastri: violation.

youruser: can u send me these. especially the one of oscar :)

user4: WAIT didn’t she post the second one a while? LANDO TOOK IT?

user81: oscar 😭😭

maxfewtrell: why don’t you take nice pictures of me like this?

user11: the wags are fighting omg

and 799 other comments

-

your back is to his chest and the music is unbearable. it doesn’t stop you from swaying your hips against his.

nothing beats the abu dhabi grand prix’s after party.

lando stays p6 in the championship, but it’s only by one stupid point. celebration is certainly called for, and you bask in the freedom of the season ending.

you don’t even want to think about the way he hugged you when he got out of the damn car.

so you don’t. you drink and you dance and you beg for someone else to try and take you home so that you can avoid him. you’re scared, fucking terrified, and avoiding him seems like the best option.

that’s until he finds you in the sea of people, because of course he does, and you get closer, closer, closer, until there’s no room for god and his hands are on your hips.

it feels too fucking good to stop, you can’t even compute pulling away, so you let yourself go. what’s the point in trying to hide the way you feel when he’s holding you against his crotch? ah, yes. a cornerstone of friendship.

but it’s too hot and it’s too bright and it’s too loud and the anxiety hits. it hits and you can’t stop the way you freeze up against him. you’re sick to death of pretending. you’re sick to death of nights like this one repeating themselves far too often, only to wake up in the morning and act like it means nothing. like the way he holds you and looks at you and touches you means nothing.

no matter how drunk he is, no matter how far gone he is, he knows you too damn well. he’s spinning you around in his arms and pulling you through the hoards of people.

cool air lands on your flushed skin and you realise you’re in the smoking area. lando looks wrecked, but he’s watching you as intently as he can manage.

“you okay, honey? want me to take you home?” he’s rubbing your arm as he speaks and tears well in your eyes. you’re not entirely sure why.

“stay, i don’t wanna ruin your night.” you croak. you need to get out of there immediately.

“no, no, no, you’re my priority, i’ll call us a driver and w-“

“stop it, lando. i can go back to the hotel alone.” he looks bewildered, and you don’t blame him. you sound harsh, way too harsh considering what he’d offered.

“i should take you.” he replies quietly and you feel bad.

great, now you are crying.

“just- i don’t want this to change, i don’t want us to change and if you keep on like this-“

alas, everything changes, then. every unsaid word is fair game and neither of you are holding back. the shots you’ve thrown back fuel an explosion.

“if i keep on like this? what, you think i don’t see the way you look at me?” lando’s words hit like venom and you’re white hot with embarrassment.

fiery despair hits you and you’re bound to regret every word when you’re sober and sane.

“at least i don’t fuck with your head.”*

“you think that doesn’t fuck with my head? the one woman i- fuck, you know what? it doesn’t matter.” he bites his tongue but you most certainly don’t.

“what? what, lando? as if the way i look at you compares to carrying my shoes and putting me to bed and calling me pretty and every other thing that you do to drive me up the fucking wall.” you spit.

your tears burn your cheeks, you’ve always been an angry crier, and they fall faster when he practically deflates and turns away, disappearing into the club.

you make your getaway, your father’s assistant sends you a car.

you cry yourself to sleep in your hotel room, watching the orange sun rise.

-

the flight home is quiet.

your plans to fly home with lando are abandoned, and you board the earliest flight available.

you never fight with him, so you don’t know how to proceed. everything had changed in a matter of words and you ignore the lump in your throat when you land in miserable, rainy london alone.

you’re surprised to see your dad’s blacked out range rover waiting for you when you get through customs. he’d been on the first flight out of the emirates as soon as the race had finished, and you assumed he’d be asleep for at least a day or two. the man never rests during the season, from the minute the lights go out in bahrain, until the flag falls in abu dhabi. then, he biblically crashes, the excitement and adrenaline hibernating until next year. average behaviour for the world’s biggest motorsport fan.

he’s out the car and opening the boot for you before you even reach him, and he’s pulling you into his fatherly embrace when you finally do. you let out a shaky breath, having been in desperate need of a hug.

“hey, kid.” he mutters into your ear. maybe it’s good to be home.

“what are you doing here?” you ask from the passenger seat, once all of your luggage is packed into the car.

your dad sighs, turning to look at you. you groan, thudding your head against the headrest. you know that look, the one that precedes a motivational speech, a bit of tough love, and usually very sound advice that you never ask for.

“lando called me.” he deadpans. they’d grown somewhat annoyingly close over the years.

“fantastic.” you reply, sarcasm as clear as day.

“he was beside himself. told me what happened.” your dad says softly and you squeeze your eyes shut.

“it’s so, so fine. i don’t wanna talk about this.” your voice trembles and you don’t have the energy to cry anymore.

“there’s nothing wrong with telling him how you feel, sweetheart. don’t throw something away because you’re scared.” and, here we go… you think.

“i can’t lose him.” you whisper, furiously wiping away the stray tears that fall, staring out the window.

“you won’t lose him if you tell him. trust me, kid. we all see how that boy adores you. no father ever thinks a guy is good enough for their girl, but lando comes pretty damn close.”

“i don’t even know where to begin.” you rub your temples, battling the tension headache you’d developed sometime the night before.

“well, start thinking. you’ve got a week.” you can see your dad smirking from the corner of your eye.

“what?” you blurt, blindsided. you’d need more than a fucking week.

“end of year gala, kid. pick a dress.”

fuck.

-

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youruser: commotion for the dress?

yourfriendmia: *commotion*

user5: on my knees begging

user1: no lando like? divorce? 😟

mclaren: always good to see you! 🧡

yourfriendnancy: kicking my feet looking at this lord have mercy

and 504 other comments

-

you’re glowing, draped in champagne pink silk.

from the other side of the room, you watch lando, and he watches you. it’s like a game, who’s gonna break first? who’s going to extend the olive branch?

he looks so pretty in his suit that you would cry if there were any tears left in you, if you hadn’t purged them all out of frustration and longing in the week of radio silence.

you’re nursing a glass of champagne, waiting for dinner to start. the room is full of rich people with big ideas, icons of the racing world, both past and present. you make small talk with oscar and his girlfriend, exchange pleasantries with your father’s many friends, and beg that lando makes the first move.

the clinking against a glass indicates that dinner is ready to be served, and you scan the tables for your place card. apparently, the event coordinator has a vendetta against you, because scrawled in deep orange cursive on the place card next to yours is mr lando norris. you scan the room for the nearest exit. your grand scheme to flee in a floor length gown and too high heels is interrupted by the sound of your chair scraping out next to you.

you feel a ghost of breath against your bare shoulder. curls tickle your skin and then, a head rests in the crook of your neck.

he says your name, and the world stops for a second.

“i’m sorry.” lando whispers in your ear, and your heart falls to your stomach.

you whip around, holding him tight as you wrap your arms around him. the tension plaguing your body since abu dhabi dissipates in seconds.

“don’t apologise. just… i missed you.” you sigh.

“you look… fuck. you’re gorgeous.” he breathes in your ear. one hand skims low over your waist. something inside of you explodes.

you don’t even try to fight the blush that tinges your cheeks.

someone important is trying to make a toast, so you take your seats. you’re not listening to a word being said, though. you just smile at lando, and lando smiles back.

you’re gonna tell him, you decide. he has to know, although you suspect he already does; you can’t imagine another day without the privilege of him looking at you the way he is right now.

dinner is a breeze. you eat, drink, laugh at the stories exchanged. you remember why you love this world you were raised in, and find yourself grinning mindlessly at your father as he rattles off yet another wild tale from your travels. you’re lucky, you know you are, and it’s reaffirmed when the man sat beside you - who you think you love a bit more than platonically - drapes his arm over the back of your chair.

plates are cleared away and a band starts their set on the makeshift stage. the mtc is lit so beautifully, fairy lights twinkle above you casting dainty light over the makeshift dance floor.

“dance with me.” lando requests. he hates to dance at these functions, so you know the request comes from the heart.

“lead the way.”

he takes your hand and you make your way onto the floor, which is slowly filling up with other couples. his hold is firm, yet gentle, and you lean into him as he keeps you close. eventually, your ear is to his chest, and you can hear his heart hammering away. you melt further into him as the song plays out, and you wish it would play forever.

“we gonna talk about it?” lando murmurs, just loud enough over the music.

“we are.” you mumble against the lapel of his jacket.

“come home with me.”

you nod, inhaling the scent of his cologne; god, how you missed every little part of him.

you keep dancing and dancing, until the champagne runs out and the band starts to pack up.

-

the door slams softly behind you.

lando takes your coat, and you drop your bag on his coffee table. when you turn around to find him, he’s stood in the doorway watching you. there is so much to say, but you can barely form a thought.

“i can’t take this any longer.” lando tells you.

your breath hitches in your throat.

“neither can i.” you whisper.

“we can be more.”

“what do you want us to be?” your chest is tight and you’re looking at him so fucking intensely, desire as clear as day in your eyes.

“you know what i want. and i know you want it too.” he walks towards you slowly as he speaks, footsteps punctuating each word.

“i need to hear you say it.” you breathe. you’re shaking; you’re not sure if it’s the anticipation or the way you’re holding yourself back.

“all i want, all i ever wanted, is you.” he’s right in front of you and his hands are on your waist. you’re tingling everywhere.

lando’s nose bumps yours. you’re scanning his face, every line, freckle, slope that maps him out. he can’t help but look at your lips, darkened eyes flitting over your face. all you can hear is shaky breaths, and perhaps your heartbeat ringing in your ears.

“can i…?” lando mutters.

you close the gap some more, lips brushing his.

“of course you can.”

he kisses you like he’ll die if he doesn’t. his hands cup your cheeks and yours find his neck, gently pressing your fingertips into his skin. lando’s frantic, passionate, oh so careful as he deepens the kiss, pulling you somehow closer. you hum in surprise, and you feel him smirking. he’s moving hungrily, and you’re starving, impatient when your hands find his curls. the groan he emits at the sensation makes you ache for him all over.

you’re both panting when you pull away, the urgency to breathe the only thing stopping you. the relief you feel is astronomical, your lips lock perfectly and he feels wondrous under your explorative hands. he smiles wide and you grip his collar, pressing your forehead against his.

“i was gonna tell you, and then you turned up looking like this… fuck.” lando groans, and you can’t help but lean up into him once more.

the kiss is slower this time, languid, and he licks slowly into your mouth. his pupils are blown when you break apart and his eyes flutter open. your thighs clench under your dress.

“so, you like the dress?” you giggle incredulously, buzzing from the interaction. lando looks at you like you’re stupid.

“you look…” he runs his eyes over you, pausing mid sentence tentatively.

“say it.”

“fucking incredible.”

“thanks. bought it with you in mind.” you tease, smirking coyly.

his jaw goes slack; you can see him mentally undressing you, and then he’s kissing you all over again.

his bedroom isn’t far, but he insists on carrying you there, sweeping you up into his arms. he peppers kisses over your neck, kicking the door open with his dress shoe.

lando places you on your feet at the foot of his bed, smoothing his hands over the curve of your waist, the silk of your dress. he tucks your hair behind your ears, drawing you close once more as he does, cupping your face in large, calloused hands.

“what do you want tonight?” lando asks, searching your face for any sign of hesitancy.

“need you. all of you.” you keen into his touch, and his breath hitches in his throat.

“we’ll go slow.” he murmurs.

“no.” you shake your head, and his hands drop from your face. “don’t want to hold back anymore.” he finds your ass, grazing his fingers upwards until he finds the fastening of your dress. you maintain eye contact while he drags the zip down, shivering as your hear the faint buzz of the metal.

lando stops, just for a second in an attempt to compose himself.

“take it off. bought it so that you could take it off.” your brutal honesty breathes some urgency into him.

he keeps his eyes on yours as the silk falls off your body, pooling at your feet. the cool air brushes your skin - covered only by lacy panties and stilettos - but his touch warms you when he grabs your waist. lando walks you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the foot of the bed. he places you on the bed, on top of you like a shot, kissing you into the mattress.

he clambers off of you, sliding down your body until he reaches your heels. kisses trail up your legs while he takes them off, the thud of them hitting the floor making you jump. anticipation pools in your barely there underwear; he can see you, all of you, and he cannot bring himself to look away.

“careful with those, they were expensive.” you joke, but your voice sounds wrecked already. you can’t even imagine how you’ll sound when he’s done.

“i have different priorities right now.” he flashes a grin and you lose him between your legs.

your underwear stay on when he dives into your pussy, teeth scraping over your covered folds. he can definitely taste you already, stuttering out a moan as he casts his tongue over you. you sink deep into the sheets, bucking your hips into his face, but his hold on you is firm and you have to relent. he lets go of you for a moment, just to pull your panties down, and as soon as they’re gone, he’s delving deep into you.

the sounds he’s making are obscene, his entire face buried away. lando flicks his tongue over your clit, beginning an extended assault on your nerve endings, sucking hard and fast until you whimper his name. a knot forms in your core.

lando takes his mouth off of you, lips slick and glistening. he swipes his tongue over them, sitting back on his haunches. he begins rolling his sleeves up, and you manage to push yourself up so that you’re resting on your elbows. you reach out to toy with the buttons of his dress shirt, leaving his torso exposed to you. you rake your nails over his abs, transfixed on the way he tenses, shudders under your touch. once his sleeves are out of his way, he pushes you back. your hair fans out around you as he resumes his position between your legs.

one finger ghosts over your clit, poking and tracing the bud. you’re reeling, writhing at the feeling of everything and almost nothing at all. he drags the digit down until he finds your entrance, abandoning the teasing and slipping it inside of you. he twists his wrist, adding a second finger, grinding them deep. he’s slow with it, watches the way your face twists in euphoria, finding a deep sense of pride in the way he makes you shake.

“you have no fucking idea how long i’ve wanted to do this.” his words have you clamping down on him, fucking yourself onto his hand.

“the feeling’s mutual.” you gasp.

lando cocks an eyebrow. he scales your body until he’s hovering over you again, fingers still working in and out of you. the angle change is delightful, your back arching and your nipples harden as they skim his bare chest.

“is it, honey? was it mutual all those nights i pictured you next to me, right on this bed? all those nights i watched you dance in your short skirts? all those nights i carried you to bed and wished i could stay?” he whispers right into your ear. his fingers speed up.

“fuck, lando. yes.” you cry, mouth hanging slack.

“tell me. tell me how mutual it was and i’ll let you come, pretty girl.” he teases; goosebumps litter your skin. there he goes again with pretty girl. this fucking man.

“always wanted more… was too scared to ask for it.”

“oh?” he coos, mockingly.

“couldn’t lose you if you didn’t want me.” you pant. a weight lifts off your chest as you let the words slip, his efforts sending you hurtling towards an orgasm.

“not going anywhere.” he kisses the base of your throat. “ever.” he punctuates, thumb sliding over your clit. “let go, love.”

the wave of pleasure crashes on your shores and it doesn’t stop, rippling through your belly and down into your toes. lando’s name falls from your lips like a sin, over and over until you can’t even hear yourself anymore.

lando’s smiling when you come down, small and knowing. he pecks your lips, once, twice, humming into the kiss when your hands find a home under his shirt. it’s unbuttoned already, so it slides over his bronzed shoulders easily. you hear it thud softly when it hits the floor.

“what?” you catch him looking at you, giddy.

“i can’t believe we’re doing this.” he grins. his words overwhelm you.

“i know.” you beam up at him bashfully.

he undresses himself and then the wait is over, and god knows it was a long one. he finds home between your thighs, runs his cock through your folds.

“you sure?”

“don’t make me wait any longer.” you insist.

it takes you a moment to adjust; he strokes your walls nice and deep and you feel everything he has to offer you. it’s surreal, really, stretching around him like this. you’d only ever daydreamed of the possibility, and now that it’s happening you can’t quite believe it. he moans low, forehead resting on yours. you watch his eyes roll back when he bottoms out.

your lip is quivering; it’s too intense, he’s too good. he takes it slow, just like he’d insisted, but he grinds deep, long strokes making you dizzy. you leave imprints of crescents in his shoulder blades, marking his pristine skin.

you can’t take much more of this, his hips hitting yours at such a delectable pace. he drags in and out, building a blissful rhythm and you’re whimpering into his neck. your teeth dig into the muscled plane of skin, minimal pressure applied, and his thrusts turn erratic, curses tumbling freely from his pink parted lips. it makes you squirm, spilling all over him, white hot and wet.

lando collapses into your damp body, the room is humid. you drag your nails through his hair, pushing the sweat slicked curls off of his forehead, and then your hand thuds lazily against the pillow.

“i’m done pretending.” he mumbles. “i’m yours.”

the last few years of your life flash before your eyes. you think back to his buzz cut and every time you’d failed to rebound. you think of bleached hair and lies about love and how he always saw the best in you. you think of nothing but him, you, together. he’s carved into you now, you think he always has been.

you fall asleep happy. you’ll wake up by his side and then you’ll do it the morning after, and the one after that too.

-

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[artists-ally]

what about Harvey when he’s jealous? His wife is attending an event at the firm with him, she’s wearing a nice dress and one of his rivals from another firm is oggling her and she dogdes his advances gracefully, but when they get home he’s bending her on the closest surface and chanting “mine” skxmcmdks

{Put it on Me} Harvey x Reader

oh BOY have I been thinking about this tehe. Also, you are my soul source of Harvey inspiration pls pls pls keep the requests coming. I have such a hard time coming up with ideas on my on so getting to create something specific really helps. Enjoy loves!!! title from this song

Word Count: 3,375

Warnings: jealousy, minor dom/sub concepts, unprotected sex, flirty banter, Harvey being a possessive mf.

~~~~~~~

As I stepped around the corner of the hallway, Harvey was leaning against the kitchen island, hands braced on the counter, gaze very much pinned on my silhouette.

“So, what do you think?” I asked, gesturing to the gown I had picked out over the weekend. “I thought the green would match well with yours.”

Harvey’s eyes melted over my frame, scanning every inch as he just stood. Watching. “You… Yn, you look breathtaking. What do you say we skip the firm announcement and just stay in?”

I laughed, the sound of my heels echoing off the walls. “As much as that sounds like a great idea, we can’t exactly snub off the announcement of a merger.”

“You just have to be the buzzkill don’t you?” Harvey smiled, planting his hands on my hips. “I should have you locked up for how good you look.”

“I don’t think you’d be able to convince a jury I’ve committed a crime, not if I bat my lashes and give them that flirty smile that sent you crawling to the floor.”

His eyes narrowed, backing me against the island in a firm spin. “Let’s not forget who can make those same lashes flutter shut, either.”

Bastard.

Harvey was dressed well– he always was. Terribly and insufferably great at finding the perfect suit. It was a three piece; the vest and jacket were black, but he wore this green tie that went with my dress. He said that since this would be the first event we attended together as a married couple, he wanted everyone to know.

Endearing, and mildly possessive.

I loved it when he was possessive.

“Okay, Maverick, let’s get to the flightdeck before we run out of fuel,” I patted his chest, grabbing my clutch and slipping in my earrings.

“Have I ever told you how much I love it when you make Top Gun references?”

“Almost as many times as you’ve told me how much you love when I’m on my knees,” I whispered in his ear before heading to the door.

Harvey landed a firm smack on my ass, sending laughter tumbling out of me before we kissed and headed down to the limo waiting for us.

I looked up and out of the window, taking in the views of the towering skyscrapers. The venu was gorgeous; all sleek marble and intricate architecture. Who knew such a place existed in New York.

When we arrived, Harvey stepped out first, taking my hand and guiding me out. I clutched his bicep as we ascended the stairs, greeting the security guard in front of the glass doors.

“Ahh, Mr. and Mrs. Specter,” the guard greeted. “Welcome. Ms. Pearson and Mr. Litt is waiting for you inside, as well as the other guests.”

Harvey gave me a nod, and I gave him one back. “Thank you, sir.”

He opened the door for us, and the inside was just as meticulously crafted as the outside. It was stunning, truly stunning. They don’t make buildings like this anymore, and that makes me a little sad.

“Yn!” Donna called out, several heads turning in our direction. “Oh my god you look amazing!”

“I couldn’t say anything less about you, Donna. You look so good, that royal blue makes your hair look so awesome,” I smiled pressing a kiss to her cheek. “And you too, Jessica. You look marvelous.”

“Thank you, Yn,” she smiled, accepting my hug. “Don’t you clean up nice, Harvey.”

He rolled his eyes, snagging a flute of champagne from a waiter on their way by. “I’ve been known to clean up every now and then.”

Conversation flowed easily between the small cluster I’ve been encompassed with. It is so nice to have such a tight knit group of people to not only call my friends, but my family. When Harvey first brought me around them, it had just been after a huge win against a firm enemy. Daniel Hardman, who I’ve come to know the full story about, had his ass handed to him. Afterwards, Harvey was far too proud to keep his mouth shut about us and insisted I needed to be a part of the celebration.

Donna was the first to meet me, and we shared one look and knew we were gonna be best friends. We made an incredible team. Especially when we teamed up against Harvey together.

Jessica was polite, but not nearly as friendly as Donna or Louis. Mike was nice, and so was Rachel, but they were too love struck, always off in their own little bubble.

Cuties.

Dinner was served just before eight and we dined, exchanging stories left and right. I got to hear about his days at the firm from their perspective, to which I get to tell them from mine. Wildly different, might I add.

The food was rich and decadent; a choice between a filet mignon or a salmon steak. I went with the filet mignon, it looked too good to pass up. Apparently everyone else agreed because our plates all looked identical when they came out.

More champagne and a belly full of great food later, Harvey and I found ourselves at the bar, ordering drinks for ourselves. Sure Harvey enjoyed the company of his co-workers, but even he needed a break from the people he saw every day. And so did I.

“If she comes back, order me an old fashioned for me my love?” Harvey said, kissing the back of my hand. “I just saw one of our investors walk in. I want to make sure he keeps investing.”

“I’ll make sure she puts in an extra cherry for you,” I winked, letting his lips fall onto mine.

“God I love you.”

With a lingering touch, he was off across the room, that classic Harvey Specter saunter to his gait. He looked so confident, so proud of all the work he had accomplished in his career. And he should be. Harvey has built an empire here in New York and has done more than earn his reputation.

It baffled me that underneath that ‘tough as nails’ attitude, was just someone who wanted to be loved and cherished as much as I had. I love Harvey, with every bit of my soul. He was so deserving of someone who truly loved him and not the amount of zeros in his bank account.

When we first met, I hadn’t known who he was, and he liked that very much. He told me he was a lawyer, a good one, but never specified which didn’t bother me really at all. It was complicated for a long while, but eventually I wore him down and he opened up. There weren’t any details of his life he didn’t share once that wall was broken down. When I met Donna for the first time, she thanked me for it. She said that I pulled that child-like behavior out of him and made him fall in love with being a lawyer all over again.

That made my heart swell with pride.

A gentle tap on my shoulder pulled me out of my memory of Harvey, and I met a pair of tempest blue eyes.

“Oh, hello,” I gave a polite smile, turning to face the man.

“Hello to you, too,” he smiled, eyes darting around my face. “I’m Travis.”

“Yn,” I said, taking his hand in mine.

“You know,” he rubbed his fingers over his chin, “Most people tend to just wear an outfit, but clearly you are going the extra mile by capturing everyone’s attention by simply sitting here.”

I hit my smile, “Well, that is kind of you to say.”

“And the earrings, they really bring the whole thing together. Did you do your hair yourself?”

“Yes,” I exclaimed, rather enthusiastically. “It looks a lot more complicated than it was. It genuinely only took me five or six minutes to do but it looks incredible, right?”

I swiveled in the bar stool, turning the back of my head to him. He blew out a low whistle and gave a light applause, “It looks amazing.”

“Are you here from the merger?” I asked, not recognizing this Tanner fellow.

“Oh, no I am merely here as a… a guest.” His eye had this glint to it when he took a sip of his clear drink. I could smell the vodka from here.

“Me too,” I said, turning my attention to the space around us. “Isn’t this place so cool? I love all the columns and pillars and- oh! Excuse me, can I get an old fashioned? With an extra cherry in it?”

“Of course,” the bartender nodded, walking away to start mixing the drink.

“Wouldn’t have pegged you for whiskey kinda girl,” Travis said, resting his elbows on the counter beside me.

“Oh, I’m not it’s for-”

“Tanner.” Harvey’s voice slithered down my spine. He sounded so… so repulsed.

“Harvey,” Travis pushed to his full height. “Nice to see you here-”

“What are you doing here.” It wasn’t a question.

“Your name is Tanner?” I asked. Why would he lie to me?

“No, no my name is Travis. Tanner is my last name.”

“She doesn’t give a shit about what your last name is. Now get the hell out of here.”

“Woah, calm down Harvey. I’m just talking with this beautiful lady, no need to twist your panties. I was here first, you don’t get to swoop in here and steal my conversation,” Travis frowned, setting the glass down rather harshly on the counter.

“Hey Yn, isn’t that an 8 carat diamond?” Harvey stood directly behind me, sliding his fingers down my left arm, grabbing my wrist and facing it towards Travis.

“Uhh, yeah what’s going-”

“That's right, it is. Funny how I knew that, isn’t it Tanner? Well, that’s because I bought it for her. So how about you get the hell out of here and if I ever catch you trying to flirt with my wife again I will put you six feet in the fucking dirt, do you understand me?”

My eyes damn near fell out of my fucking skull. I knew Travis was being polite, or flirting I guess, but I wasn’t going to let anything come of it, of course.

Travis looked like he was going to be sick. He scurried off, metaphorical tail tucked between his legs.

Harvey dropped my hand and reached around me to grab his freshly crafted drink.

“Okay, hotshot, what was that all about?”

“Do you remember that shit-show of a case that we fought a few months ago, the one that got reopened after four years?” I nodded. “Yeah, that was him. And that's the asshole who tried to have me disbarred.”

Holy shit. “Oh, fuck Harvey. I had no idea.”

“Of course you didn’t,” he smiled faintly. “There’s no other reason he’s here tonight other than to piss me off.”

“Don’t let it get to you,” I said, standing up and taking his face in my hands. “Would you like to passionately make out in front of all these people just to make Travis Tanner mad?”

“Yes, yes I would like that very much,” Harvey grinned, linking his arm around my wait and pressing me close before sending a shiver down my spine with the force of his lips on mine.

“That guy is an asshole,” I said, needing a moment to catch my breath. Surely that did the trick, Travis was nowhere in sight. “You shouldn’t trust anyone with two first names, it’s weird.”

Harvey bellowed out a laugh, nodding his head over his shoulder. I could tell he wanted to leave, but I wouldn’t let him slink off without saying proper goodbyes to everyone that was worth an explanation as to where we fled to.

Donna didn’t need to see us leave, because I had a text on my phone with a bunch of eggplant and peace emoji’s with an accompanying message that said ‘GONNA BE SOME GOOD D TONIGHT GIRL’. She must’ve seen the whole interaction between Travis, Harvey and I.

All I sent back was a winky face.

By the time we got off the elevator, Harvey couldn’t keep his hands off of me. Not that I wanted him to, but we hadn’t even made it outside before his tongue was sweeping inside my mouth.

We pressed to the front door while jammed in the key, effortlessly unlocking it like he had done it a thousand times before. We crashed through, and Harvey wasted no time pinning me to the door.

“Mmm Harvey,” I whined into his mouth.

“Yes, pretty girl?” God damn did I love when he calls me that. “What do you need?”

“You, just you,” I looked at him through my lashes, watching that evil smirk wash over his features. Nothing could have stopped his hand clamping around my throat, pulling me off the door and into the kitchen. He hoisted me up onto the island and began to strip.

Harvey tossed his jacket onto the counter behind him, the tie was next. He made it painfully slow, doing nothing to hide his intentions of making it agonizing for me. I rolled my eyes, hands finding the buttons on his vest, flinging it over my shoulder.

“Needy,” he gripped my chin, crushing his mouth with mine. For a few minutes, or hours, we drank each other in. Restless hands and desperate pleas of need. Silk wrapped around my wrists, tight and commanding. I looked down and saw his tie around them, knotted in a figure eight and yanked until it burned.

“Harvey-”

“You’re mine. All. Mine. No one else has the right to do so much as think otherwise.” My core rippled with heat, eyes lulling shut at his words. “Aww, you like hearing that, don’t you? That I get to see you like this? All tied up? Such a pretty girl, Yn. I bet you’re such a mess for me already.”

He grabbed the fabric around my wrists and pulled me off the counter, flipping me over and forcing me to bend over. Harvey fisted up the hem of my skirt, quite literally tearing my thong off my hips.

I went to yell at him, but his finger dragged between my legs, and my spine shivered. “Fuck, Harvey…”

“You are a mess for me,” I could hear the possession in his voice. “Mmm, and you taste so sweet, Yn.”

I heard his fly unzip, the clang of his belt following after. My toes barely touched the ground as my forearms pressed against my ribs. I tried to scramble up a little so my hips fit with the edge of the counter, but Harvey just gripped the back of my hair and pulled me up.

He clicked his tongue, “Oh Yn, such a pretty thing you are. And I am going to have my way with you, and you’re gonna scream my name for the whole city to hear.”

I clenched my thighs together, pressing my forehead against the cool surface, though it quickly warmed with my breathing and panting. I felt the tip of his cock press against me, and his hips slowly met mine.

He pushed me further onto the counter, thankfully letting go of my hair before he pulled out.

Harvey’s hands on my hips were brutal; bruising my skin, commanding, feverish as they roamed my ass and thighs. Clawing marks.

“God Yn…” he sighed out, thrusting all the way back in, pulling my hips all the way flush with his. “Fuck you are so warm. So perfect for my cock.”

“Please,” I begged, wiggling my ass to entice him further.

“Please what, pretty girl? Come one, use your words.”

I shuddered around him, and he laughed at me. A cruel, wicked laugh as he stuffed himself further.

“Harder, I want- need it harder.”

“That’s my girl,” Harvey landed his palm on my ass, undoubtedly turning it bright red as he did it again. With one snap of his hips, and I knew I was gonna be ripped apart.

I didn’t know that much about Travis Tanner, but judging by the way this was going, Harvey really fucking hated the guy. If Harvey had any other enemies, maybe I should let them all flirt with me if it has the chance of turning into this.

My chest rammed across the counter, my thighs and pelvic bone rocking into the side of the island. It hurt, fuck did it hurt, but it made it so much better. Harvey’s brutal pace had him panting and groaning, cursing under his breath while he fisted his hand back in my hair.

I craned up, back aching with the force of his unyielding grip. It was hard to breathe, in the most soul fluttering way possible. It was such a euphoric feeling to be under his complete control.

“Yeah, you love this, don’t you? Being completely at my mercy? Submitting to my every decision?”

“Yes Harvey,” I whimpered. Full on whimpered. “Fuck-”

“Don’t be shy, pretty girl, let it all out for me to hear.”

He threw my head down, hair swinging around my shoulders and falling in my face. I let my head go limp, moans pouring out of my mouth. His hips slammed into mine, brutal and ruthless. Every inch of my body was on fire, veins pumping blood widely through my limbs, making them tingle. My toes curled, knees knocking into the wood paneling over and over and over.

I couldn’t do anything, couldn’t say anything, to get him to slow his pace. I writhed and cried out his name. I could hear it echo off the walls, and I knew our neighbors would be taping a complaint to our door by the morning.

“Fuck, baby, gonna cum,” he threw his head back, hips stuttering as he held on to my waist. “Fuck, Yn you are so fucking messy for me. Gonna fill you up.”

I squirmed when his finger brushed against my clit, chills spreading all down my arms and back. I felt tears prick my eyes. I hadn’t even realized how close I actually was to my release, and it slammed into me without any hint of a warning.

“Yeah, that's it, pretty girl. Cum on my cock,” Harvey’s voice was like a sin. Pure, raw, unfiltered sin.

His fingers circled and circled around, lighting my body and dragging out the waves of pleasure that rolled through me.

Harvey let out a string of curses, and his hips stilled. He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me down onto him, hips ramming in once-twice-three-four times before he stilled. He bent over me, heaving for a breath against the middle of my back.

I called his name several times, unable to keep still. My hands were going numb from the bindings, and my knees and hips ached.

With a big inhale, Harvey lifted off my body. His hands trailed all the way down my back to my exposed ass, pulling it apart. “Well, would you look at that. So messy, full of me…”

My pussy clenched around him, and I felt his release slide down the inside of my thigh. His finger dragged his back up and speared it into my skin.

“That’s right, pretty girl, you’re all mine, aren’t you? Say it.”

“I’m yours Harvey, all yours,” I plead, wallowing in the feeling of pure bliss. His hands were much more gentle this time around when he lowered me back to the ground.

That mouth of his most certainly wasn’t. Harvey forced his tongue in, practically shoving it down my throat. I choked, and he grinned like the devil.

“Yeah, that’s right, Yn. You’re all mine. All fucking mine.”

I stared up at him in a starry daze. My head was foggy, and my legs were weak. “God do I love it when you get like this.”

Harvey’s hand caressed my cheek, thumb sweeping under my eye to where I’m sure my makeup was smudged.

“And god do I love it when you let me worship you, fucking you exactly like you deserve to be. No one else could ever fuck you as good as I can. Right, pretty girl?”

I grinned, equally as devilish as him, “Right, Harvey.”

~~~~~

Reader's dress

Harvey's suit

#harvey specter #harvey specter suits #suits smut #suits fanfic #suits fanfiction #harvey specter x reader #harvey specter smut #harvey specter fanfiction

[littledovesnow]

hiii i really love your writing! could you do a blurb of youngpresident!coryo x fem!reader where he spoils her via gifts (or something along those lines)?

A knock on the door interrupted your focus on the press releases you were working on, your assistant holding a box from your favorite clothing store.

"What's that?"

"Not sure, but there's note on it from Mr. Snow."

Rolling your eyes, you waved the young girl into your office, thanking her as she deposited the box on your desk.

Once she had closed the door, you grabbed the envelope opener and sliced the tape on the box, revealing a formal gown in your favorite color, along with a note from your beloved.

For the gala next week. - Your Coryo

You opened a locked drawer in your desk and slipped the note in there, adding it to the small collection you've gathered since Coriolanus had won the presidency. --- Coriolanus' shoes tapped on the marble floor of the Presidential Mansion, soft smile on his face.

"Love?" He called, eyes brightening when he saw you sitting in the library, book in your hands.

"Hi, Coryo, how was your meeting?"

Coriolanus moved your legs and sat next to you on the chaise, letting your feet settle over his thighs, one hand gently rubbing your ankle.

"Spendied, Volumnia thinks the next additions to the Games are going to be a hit."

Smiling, you closed the book and gave your husband your full attention, noticing the box in his other hand. "Now what have you gotten me?"

Coriolanus laughed, opening the velvet box to show you the necklace inside, diamonds glimmering in the light. "Coryo, you shouldn't have."

"Nonsense, without your inspiration the Games wouldn't be what they are today."

You looked between the necklace and Coriolanus. "Now you're just spreading lies. I didn't suggest everything."

Coriolanus waved off the rebuttal, leaning over to lock lips with you. --- Letting your head fall back against the headboard, your chest ached with another round of coughs.

You had unfortunately caught the cold that had been going around the Citadel, landing you on bedrest for a few days.

You looked at the door as it creaked open, your husband's head popping into the room. "Are you feeling any better?"

Shaking your head, you watched Coriolanus walk into the room with a hand behind his back. "Not really, but the doctor said it could take few days."

Nodding, Coriolanus frowned as he felt your forehead. "You don't feel as warm."

Shrugging, you coughed once more, eyes narrowing. "What's behind your back?"

Coriolanus moved his hand, revealing a new novel. "Thought since you're not feeling well, I could entertain you with my- what did you call it? My velvet-smooth voice?"

Your cheeks flushed as he brought up the conversation with Clemensia from the gala a few months ago.

"Shush, shush." Your voice was hoarse, and Coriolanus passed you a glass of water as he clamored onto the bed beside you, starting to read the book, continuing even after your breaths evened out.

send blurb requests!

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #hunger games imagine #coriolanus x you #hunger games x reader #hunger games tbosas

[milknhonies]

Wails of Wedded Bliss

Chapter 6 || Masterlist || Chapter 8

Chapter Summary: Upon meeting the Baroness you are enamoured by her devotion.

Pairing: Sherlock Homes x wife!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, (No Smut), typical historical misogyny and sexism, mentions and discussion on miscarriages. Implied domestic abuse and infidelity.

Word Count: 9k

Author Notes: This is an important but rather sad chapter. I beseech you all to read the warnings. The details of this chapter are important to the plot of the missing Baron Thaddeus Pennicott.

Inspiring Song: "Flightless Bird American Mouth" by Vitamin String Quartet

8:30am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England. 

Sherlock tucked your arm into his side as you three entered the Groveland house foyer. The floor was made of fine marble tile and with ever step a light echo raced down the halls.

The inspector called upon a nearby dusting maid to fetch the head of the house. Who returned was a thin and tall man in a butler’s uniform with a sliver pocket watch hanging from his chest. His hair was the colour of autumn leaves and his face littered in freckles.

He bowed, “I am mister Edward Redmayne, head butler of the Groveland estate, how may I assist you?”

The inspector shook his hand and stated quickly, “We spoke on the telephone yesterday? A telegraph was sent.”

The butler smiled with a relieving gasp, “Detective Holmes?”

Lestrade sheepishly looked over his shoulder to you and your husband. He nodded. His expression wore a emotion of embarrassment mixed with annoyance. Perhaps he was jealous of your husband’s successful published case stories. You wished you could have told the constable not to fret as Sherlock was nothing short of a arrogant mule...yet again- the mark on his face...he probably already knew that.

8:42am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England. 

Upon meeting the lady of the house, you stood frigid by your husband. You felt somewhat self conscious by her grey eyes that lingered over your dress. Perhaps you should’ve worn your Sunday best before meeting a woman of such a high status.

The baroness was unmistakably pregnant. Her belly was bold and rounded beneath her maternity gown. She had been sitting calmly on a resting chaise, knitting a small bonnet for her future child. Her hands were covered in fine burgundy velvet gloves to match her modest dress.

Her face was framed by a light brown curls, that appeared almost white in some places, twisted into a bum at the base of her neck. Her pale face was blotchy with pink flecks and slight acne.

“Lady Pennicott, I am Inspector Braydon Lestrade of Scotland Yard,” the British officer proclaimed as he bowed dramatically forward. You withheld a girlish giggle by how low the man had bent his head and presented himself foolishly, and from the corner of your eye you manage to catch the whisp of Sherlock’s smirk.

The inspector waved his arm behind him and moved aside, “-and with me is Detective Sherlock Holmes and his wife, Mrs Holmes.”

You produced the baroness a respectable curtsy, your eyes glued down to the beautifully patterned carpet. You wondered how the servants could keep it so clean and freshly unstained by dirty guests. It must have been new.

The baroness shuffled her knitting needles and ball of woollen yarn into a Whicker basket and disposed of it beside her.

A slow stretching smile graced her thin lips as she spoke to you, “Oh, are you the little dear who solved that factory match girl incident?”

You weren’t sure how to answer her question. You weren’t entirely sure what the baroness was referencing until Sherlock stepped closer with your arm still cradled in his.

“No dear Baroness,” Sherlock pat your hand gently, “That would have been my sister Enola Holmes, she has her own detective office at present moment. My wife is here on my invitation. I wished to gift her a sight of the grand park and estate while I was here upon duty.”

The Baroness cocked her head, from her ears hung pearls that swung and hung like rain drops.

“Come forth dear,” she lifted her hand and beckoned you, “I would like to have better view of you.”

You wondered if she could smell the sweat beginning to drop down the back of your neck. You bit your tongue and tried to refrain from trembling. You were nervous. Her eyes were cold but her smile warm, two conflating details that you couldn’t understand. The last thing you needed now on top of a terrible start to your marriage was to be scrutinized by a haughty pregnant baroness.

She flickered your fingers for you to bend down to her. As you leant down, you swore you could smell copper, a metalic scent. A vein on your scalp pulsed. She scanned your face of its details. You dared to wonder what she was searching for. And then it clicked...the smell...

‘Dear god, you prayed, please don’t let her smell my blood, please let this not be my blood...’

You should have sprits on some perfume before leaving baker street.

She glanced behind you and questioned angelically, “How does it feel having such a clever husband?”

Your lips opened and closed. You resembled a fish. You were stumped to answer quickly.

‘Miserable, infuriating, torturous, pleasurable mixed with a cup of agony...’

She lifted her brows until you hurriedly blurted, “He is...formidable and righteous...” you stood up tall and took a step back, adding with a monetarism of truth, “I am very lucky to have become his bride.”

‘Lucky, while incredibly resentful.’

You reached back, Sherlock adopted your arm back into his hold once more.

Lady Pennicott rubbed her belly, her eyes started to twinkle, “And soon you will have a plethora of children that will look like him I gather.”

Your eyes fluttered. Sherlock’s hand tightened around your glove and his throat bobbed. You felt hot in the face.

Yes that’s right, that’s what normal husband and wife did isn’t it? They have children. That was your role, to be the mother of Sherlock’s offspring...

You couldn’t answer.

And there. That dear girl is when you questioned for the first time. ‘Is this what I want?’ and ‘Do I want Sherlock’s children.’ Because having a knowing of his barbarism conflated a fear in your belly...would Sherlock hurt his own children if he could easily hurt you, his wife?

When you hesitated for too long to answer her again, Sherlock said with a strained tone that was masked in a hopeful joy, “One may only hope, Baroness.”

“Lady Pennicott,” Graydon interrupted, “We have come to ask you on the whereabouts of Lord Pennicott and the evening he was last sighted.”

Her eyes narrowed at the inspector and with an annoyed twinge she muttered and wiped her hands on a nearby blanket, “I already informed the police of what I was informed of by our butler Edward.”

She glanced up next her right. Mister Redmayne observed her, looking down. The pair smiled to each other. She reached out to him. She grabbed his hand and they squeezed.

The inspector laughed nervously, “Indeed but Detective Sherlock Holmes was not presently involved in the case until yesterday.”

Her eyes flickered quickly to your husband and her face flared with confusion quickly to be matched with a impressed smile, “Of course, please sit all of you as I am near a indisposition with my child,” she gestured to the mirroring chaise and a chair beside the fireplace, “Edward, please tell Martha to bring tea and biscuits for our kind service men and Mrs Holmes.”

The butler bowed to you all and left the sitting room.

Lestrade took his place on the lone chair while Sherlock sat you beside him on the chaise. You took your time to lower yourself. Sitting on your bruises was uncomfortable while another cramp hit you. Your fingers dug into his palm.

From Lestrades breast pocket he pulled out a notebook and small pencil.

“Lady Pennicott,” Sherlock softly hummed, “Please, could you tell me what your husband is like as a person?”

The woman who you believed was in her late thirties smiled and stated softly, “My Thaddeus is a noble man, good taste in wine and very devoted to his work. He likes to go hunting and we share a passion for gardening,” she glanced up at the ceiling and paused, “He prefers to plant vegetables to donate to the church and orphans, whereas I have always loved to grow my flowers.”

The way she described him, her devotion was deep and honourable. She touched her round belly.

Sherlock looked over to the fire place behind the baroness. On the mantle was a magnificent portrait twice your height, painted on the canvas was who you recognised as Lord and Lady Pennicott. He was sitting up straight on a fine red cushioned chair with his dirty blonde hair and softened mutton chops while she stood at his right and her ringed hand on his shoulder. The similarities were there but Lady Pennicotts hair had lightened in reality perhaps from all the years that separated her likeness and her reality.

“I was informed Lord Pennicott is a father of five?” Sherlock asked.

The Baroness smiled proudly and pat her tummy softly, “Six soon.”

You couldn’t help notice something was missing from the painting, Sherlock also had a similar thought.

Where were the children in the portrait? Where was a family portrait in the house?

“Forgive me,” a breath of air escaped from him, “are the children away at school?”

“Oh,” her uncanny smile remained while her brows angled down, her throat tightened as she spoke, “I fear they are in the loving embrace of angels now. All of them were taken from us by God,” her eyes glanced to you, “They came out sleeping.”

Your heart sunk to the pit of your belly with sorrow and pity.

Five babies lost, five babies gone…five pregnancies… four and a half years of pregnancy and for what? Five angels.

A woman had one holy role in life, to bare her husband children, and when a woman was defective or produced a sickly child, it was a symbol of failure in society. But you never saw it that way...you imagined it must’ve been agony to lose so many babies. One or two was a common occurrence but five? Five was a curse to experience and relive over and over.

“Well,” you interrupted Sherlock rudely, cutting him off from his next abrasive question by squeezing his hand a little too hard.

You could see the mourning in the baroness’ face. You saw the classic look of all women made uncomfortable by something a man has said. What the hell would the detective know about a woman’s emotions after how coldly he has treated all women and yourself.

You shuffled on the opposite chaise and smile softly, “I will pray this one will come swiftly and feel the warmth of their mother.”

The baroness’ face lifted and warmed. She smiled happily and nodded, “Thankyou, oh I’m just so excited! This one really is a big one, I can feel it. I hope it’s a boy.”

Sherlock was staring at you intensely as the maid Martha finally delivered a pot of tea and poured the steaming liquid. His brows were knitted and his eyes held suspicion as he kept you in his sight. You politely nodded your head once at him before reaching for a hot cup and lifting it to your lips.

Sherlock sighed and turned back to his questioning, “You would say you liked your marriage?”

The baroness appeared offended by your husband as her face wrinkled and a sneer spread her thin lips, “Of course, any woman who doesn’t like her marriage should not be married in the first place. She is a burden to her husband if she cannot perform her duties as a wife.”

Lady Pennicott leant forward and collected her own cup of tea, she delicately pinched a biscuit and dunked it into the contents.

…you felt Sherlock drag his thumb across your fingers. You felt chilly, could he read your thoughts? Did he know truly how much you already hated him and his ideas of intimacy in your marriage? He clear his throat when both your glancing eyes caught each other.

“Can you tell me what happened,” Sherlock pressed, “The night of your husbands disappearance?”

“Well...after dinner,” the baroness sighed in thought and nibbled on her moist biscuit, “Thaddeus wanted to speak with me in his office about a spending I had made a week ago. You see, I had bought a cradle for the nursery. The one we had originally was broken and beyond repair, we disposed of it a month prior. Thaddeus was not pleased with the price and claimed it was an unnecessary purchase,” she paused and set her cup aside before she touched her belly again; rubbing in soft slow circles, she began to blushed, “He was sorely hurt by my choice. He then became very cross with me and left his office in a huff.”

She looked to the yarn, to the tea pot and then finally to the painting on the mantle, “I deemed that he would find forgiveness in his heart by the morning and brush it off. I returned back to the nursery to tidy up before I went to my rooms and went to bed to sleep in my quarters of the east wing. Thaddeus keeps himself to the west wing most nights.”

The detective nodded, “What time do you believe it was when you went to your bed, Baroness?”

She hummed softly while pursuing her lips, “A quarter to nine in the evening.”

“And how did you realise your husband was missing?” Sherlock stole a scone off the tea tray and lifted it to his lips. He paused amidst chewing it slowly.

The noble woman sighed and recollected, pragmatically, “In the morning Mr Redmayne informed me on how Thaddeus took off into the night astride Arion, our prize stallion Clydesdale. Thaddeus had not returned by the next morning and that is when concern drew near. I sent members of my staff to the factories to investigate his whereabouts and none had come upon him. I knew something had to be wrong so I alerted the authorities by the second morning.”

Your husband took a deep breath and discarded the half bitten scone, he wiped his hand unceremoniously on his jacket and throatily asked, “Do you recall if Lord Pennicott has any potential persons he might be deemed as an enemy towards?”

“Only his company competitors, Detective,” She said saccharinely with her smile, “He was a very loveable man.”

“Do you have a list of the names of staff who were working that evening here in Groveland House?”

The butler stepped forward and cleared his throat, “That would be in Lord Pennicotts office,” he pulled out a pair of keys, “I can you show you gentlemen in and where he keeps his accounts and other paraphernalia to his business if you’d like?”

Both Sherlock and Lestrade smiled and stood up.

“Baroness,” Sherlock gently requested, “Would it be overly bothersome if my beloved wife remained and kept you company while the inspector and I look in your husband’s office.”

Your heart jumped to your throat. What was Sherlock doing leaving you behind with the Baroness by yourself!?....what if you spoke out of turn or said something too presumptuous for your status!?...

“Most certainly not,” she beamed “I will gladly accept such delightful company,” She held out a hand, palm down to her right. The butler speedily stepped to her side and leant her his hand. She winced as she scooted forward on the cushioned lounge before struggling to rise to her feet.

Sherlock leant down and kissed the back of your wrist again, so scantily in front of the baroness. You tried tor refrain from loudly gasped and bringing anymore dangerous attention to yourself. Your husband left your side and followed the butler with Lestrade out of the sitting room.

So the party turned to two married women. The baroness was pleased.

She stepped closer to you and reached for your arm. You were surprised by her familiarity but you would not deny the assistance of a woman so desperately swollen and ready to birth any day.

“My dear, would you care to have a stroll with me in my garden?” She smirked and jerked her chin, “Knowing how dear Thaddie kept his space organised I suspect the gentlemen might be a while.”

You nodded and quickly made the warning assurance, “Are you in a condition to move great feets Lady Pennicott?”

“Fret not,” She giggled girlishly and waved her hand casually, “The physician told me fresh air is delightful for the health of the babe,” she tapped the top of her belly, “I have a month or so before they come.”

Your eyes widened, she looked huge enough to give birth now, surely she wasn’t a month away!! Maybe she was going to be blessed with a pair of twins. You had such a limited knowledge of pregnancy in women. Your grandmother hadn’t given birthed a child in the last forty years before your birth!!!

She pointed the way out of the main mansion to enter the garden paths. The sun was perfect today amongst the clouds. It was neither cold nor hot nor humid and dank...it was pleasant and you could smell the fresh nature of bushels and flowers.

“How long have you been known as, The Mrs Holmes?” She inquired cheerfully with her shining silver eyes.

“...Not very long,” you replied warmly before risking a white lie, “We recently finished our honeymoon.”

She grinned and waddled passed a wooden bench, she took a quick stop to rest and pat the seat for you to join her instead of standing dumbly.

“Shall I share some words of advise?,” She hummed, “From a woman that has been married for twelve years?”

“I would be ever so grateful,” you said rushed and desperate. You wouldve listened to anything she had to say. A woman of her standing must’ve held adequate wisdom.

She warmly cupped both your hands and squeezed them. And yet there was an ice creepy into her gaze. She appeared to dissociate, her voice losing its youthful lilt. Her lip wobbled slightly.

“Men are visual creatures. While you are so young and beautiful, you must become pregnant as soon as possible,” Lady Pennicott ran her palm across your waist, her eyes like razors cut across the yard to a bush of red rose buds, “It is inevitable that our husbands will stray their gazes to other women, it is in their nature,” those grey stones in her face rolled back and weighed you down, “as I said- visual creatures. The sooner you make a babe, the easier his devotion comes,” A joyous grin returned to her thin lips, she playfully tapped the tip of your nose and stated, “Trust me upon this.”

You clenched your hand behind you and strained a smile, “I thankyou for such wise words Baroness. I will endeavour to do what I must to conceive.”

At this moment in time Sherlock had proved himself a monstrous villain. Would it be possible for you to fall pregnant?

You looked out at the divine lush greenery and exhaled softly.

“Do you garden Mrs Holmes?” the baroness queried.

You chuckled softly and removed your gloves, you flashed her a sight of your palm, “I am afraid my hands have never been introduced. My grandmother preferred I focus on mastering piano and embroidery.”

The grey orbs fluttered back at you with a surprised him, “Embroidery is a lovely skill,” she pat your hand and pointed across the field, “Please help me up Mrs Holmes, let us take a look at my lilacs.”

You stood straight up and leant out your arm, she was surprisingly light for a woman her size. She leant against you and took small timid steps to her flower patches.

She stood and admired the flower patches, pointing to different types and explaining the breeds of flowers she hoped to grow in the future.

You finally bent over enough and cupped the petals of purple to hold up to your nose and took in a wiff “They smell lovely,” from the corner of your eye was a line of crimson, “I see your roses will soon be in bloom.”

She pinched a bud that was peaking to bloom soon.

“Oh yes, the soil is rich and healthy,” she giggled, “I can’t wait for Thaddeus to return, he liked the roses. He would stand here for a while and think. I know he will love the red colour. It is his favourite shade you see...” She sighed dreamily with her eyes scanning the bushes of scarlet rose buds, “I miss him terribly. I hope he’s alright. I want him to come home soon before the baby arrives.”

A fly smacked into your eye and you sputtered, battering it away. When you gracelessly composed yourself, you stood back up to your feet beside the Lady of Groveland.

You could see how her eyes puddles with droplets of mournful tears. You felt bad for any woman that did not know where her husband was. Especially if there was a rumour about him fleeing the marriage and abandoning her in her serious pregnant condition.

Taking the chance, you boldly took both your hands into yours and now squeezed them. Another buzzing from a fly sat on your shoulder.

The day was growing warmer and a bead of sweat rolled down your neck. The fly tickled your neck and suckled along your salted skin.

You tried your best to ignore the annoying creature.

“I am sure he will Lady Pennicott,” you soothed with a soft welcoming grin, “And he will be most happy when he returns.”

She sighed solemnly and glanced back at the rose bushes. You felt obligated for her happiness in that moment. Glancing back to the house you felt a opportunity come to you.

“May I visit your nursery Lady Pennicott, so I may have references for my own in the future?”

Her eyes flickered up, her face shine bright and her hand tightened over your wrists excitedly as though she was still as youthful as a school girl.

“Why of course Mrs Holmes,” she spun on her heel and wobbled a slight, she lifted her hand and called to the maid Martha still packing the china set inside, “Please inform the detective that I am taking his wife up to the nursery.”

“Yes Baroness,” she said with a humble curtsey and scurried off while Lady Pennicott took you totally inside the house and up a grand stair case from the foyer.

9:03am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England. 

Up, up, up you both climbed the stairs. You noticed how the stairs didn’t bother her ladyship once, she was fit and stridden widely whereas you were breathing a little hard by the top step.

She pulled you down a hallway to a white painted door.

She excitedly opened the door wide and practically skipped inside to show you around her future child’s room.

The walls were covered in light blue and yellow paint. There were small peonies covering the trim of the room. There was no carpet but who needed one when you had a newborn.

“Welcome to the resting nest of my baby,” Lady Pennicott proudly exclaimed, spreading her arms out at the room around you.

There was a tall shelf filled with stuffed animals and teddy bears. There was a rocking horse, a doll house, spinning tops, tin cars and rubber balls all waiting, collecting dust, awaiting the arrival of a playmate. There was a permabulator by the window sill. There was a rocking chair in one corner and against the wall closest to the door- you smiled and swaggered over curiously, “Is this the cradle you bought?”

It was made of fine cream painted wood. You chewed your bottom lip in the thought. It was a lovely crib, why was Lord Pennicott so upset by such a delightful purchase? He didn’t have money issues. You put it down as that you didn’t understand the way men thought and men will never know what women think.

“Yes,” Lady Pennicott chirped, “it is from William Whitely department store in Baywater next to the Howard & Co dress department.”

The Baroness sat down into her rocking chair and slowly moved it back and forth, watching you admire the nursery she spent hours and years consistently curating.

You clenched the edge and looked over the railing down at the empty bedding. There was a teddy lamb in the corner, you pinched it’s fluffy white tail and sighed. For a brief moment you let your eyes close and your imagination wander far.

One day you’d have this...with Sherlock. An empty cradle to be filled. You caught the vision of a tiny hand squeeze around your finger and the sound of soft gurgles with the warm pressure of a hand on your waist...was that Sherlock’s hand? Was that your child?

One day you’d have a baby to care for, to provide these things that meant love...yet, was any child of Sherlock’s capable of love? He certainly wasn’t as far as you were concerned.

You bit down a shudder and opened your eyes, feeling hot tears glide down a cheek. You pushed back and sighed, “I am most confident on one thing Lady Pennicott.”

“And what is that Mrs Holmes?” she said softly, she could see the unspoken pain in your face. You swallowed hard and your face fell into a smile, you flashed her a wink.

You laughed softly, “Your child will be spoilt rotten by the love you give.”

She chuckled with you and nodded.

“Have you thought of a name?” you inquired, waltzing over to the chested drawers of baby knick knacks on display.

“Thaddeus Colin if it’s a boy,” she hummed, “or Theresa Grace if it is a girl.”

“Theresa?”

She giggled gently, “That is my name dear.”

Mrs Theresa Pennicott. It suited her. Her old soul eyes reflected her devout name.

A shine of glass pierced a ray of sun into your eyes, you pinched the glass object carefully. You touched a long black tube pulling out of it. You couldnt understand it’s purpose, your eyes narrowed at the rubber end that was shaped like a thumb or a cows udder. There was a second tube attached to the first with a rubber squeeze ball at the end.

“What is this?” you humoured.

“Oh that? It’s a fantastic invention,” The baroness said, “It’s a pump for breast milk with a tube that syphons the milk into this baby feeding bottle. When babies start to teeth they can scar your breasts. This is an effective and modern method I look forward to trying.”

Your eyes widened, scarring!? Babies teeth could scar a breast!?

You placed the bottle bump back and helped Lady Pennicott when she beckoned to stand back up from the rocking chair.

“Have you ever felt the sensations?” She suddenly, “In which they kick within?”

Your face must’ve looked idiotic as you asked plainly, “Kick?”

She giggled and nodded, “Give me your hand, perhaps you may feel them moving.”

She plucked your palm and pulled your glove off your fingers. She pressed your entire hand intimately to her belly. You felt a sense of taboo shame, she was making you touch such a beloved spot.

“Do you feel it?” she then asked.

Felt what? Confusion flooded your mind. Your hand moved around her belly slowly.

“I am afraid I don’t know what I’m meant to be feeling?”

She moved your hand and again you felt absolutely nothing.

“They are very brutal on my body,” Lady Pennicott sarcastically assured, “trust me there is a kick.”

She made a point to push your hand harder, but all you felt was the hard material of her corsetry beneath her main dressing materials.

“Baby’s kick you inside?” you marvelled with stunned horror. This was the first time you’d ever heard of such a notion of a baby beating it’s mother inside.

“Not out of malicious intent Mrs Holmes,” she reassured, “mostly it is the baby using its limbs to move their cramped bodies inside or excitement at the sound of voices, I truly believe they can hear us while still inside. Fear not, to you it will feel like a faint touch like this-”

Lady Pennicott softly tapped your wrist, “Like that.”

And there again was new knowledge you heard from a woman on matters of pregnancy. You moved your fingers around, seeking the supposed feeling of a kick...

Still nothing. You frowned, was there something wrong with you that the baby was choosing not to reveal itself.

“How interesting...”

A soft knock on wood alerted you both to glance at the door.

“Mrs Holmes,” the butler from earlier politely spoke, “the detective is requesting your return, I believe he intends to depart.”

Your face fell. You couldn’t believe it but you’d found this experience immensely enjoyable. You had surprisingly made a friend of the Baroness.

The fair lady hugged your side and sweetly exhaled, “Then I shall escort you back to your husband, Eddie fetch me my cheque book.”

He nodded and walked ahead of you both. You solemnly shut the nursery door, trying to remember every precious detail as possible. It was a innocent place to escape from the crude world.

You returned to the bottom of the foyer and smiled at your husband that stood by Lestrade at the front doors.

By the bottom step you faced the noble woman and curtsied.

“Thankyou Lady Pennicott for your kind hospitality and agreeable cooperation to the case,” you heard Sherlock’s voice float over your shoulder.

“Of course detective, please,” the Butler returned with her cheque book, “find my beloved Thaddeus.”

She scribbled speedily with a modernised ink pen, a sharp tear of paper flashed to his direction, “Here. Thirty pounds. I am sure you are busy with other clients considering your reputation, but I beseech you to seek out my husband quickly.”

Sherlock bowed his head as he deposited the cheque into his pocket, “We shall try our hardest. Good afternoon Lady Pennicott.”

Your mouth might’ve collected flies. Thirty pounds. THIRTY pounds. That was a hefty wage for a year to many men.

Sherlock was granted his coat and walking cane along with Lestrade.

He opened the front door and left slowly, glancing over your shoulder back at the heavily pregnant Baroness.

9:21am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England. 

Sherlock and you walked up the gravel path in silence for sometime. You weren’t in much of a mood to speak to him despite well knowing conversation would need to spark eventually.

The three of you slowed down beside the inspectors horse cart.

Thankfully it was Sherlock who destroyed the silence with a stretched sigh. Lestrade grimly smiled at that sigh and rocked on his heels.

“Lestrade, show a useful skill,” Sherlock slapped a coin purse into his chest, “Find my wife and I a decent ride homeward. You still need to return back to the office and finish writing those reports on the Spring heeled Jack sightings....” he snickered.

The mutton chop male grumbled and left you pair alone to walk down the path into the main parklands to hail a cabriolet or another hackney carriage.

Sherlock pulled out his pipe and lit it quickly, he inhaled fast and asked curiously, “Did you learn anything else from our suspect?”

You squinted and felt a gasp pop from your lips, your hand snapped out and dug your nails into his arm with a scolding hiss, “Suspect? Look at the state she is in Sherlock. She clearly loves her husband. How could such a indisposed woman do anything to her husband?”

He smirked, “Perhaps a jealous one?”

Your brows pulled together. Jealousy wasn’t something you would’ve describe Lady Pennicott as especially with such a privileged life. Such an emotion wouldve been beneath her...but.. ‘It is inevitable that our husbands will stray their gazes to other women, it is in their nature.’

Sherlock pinched out a piece of card from his pocket, a business calling card, he flashed it through his fingers and let you carefully pluck it from his hand.

“it is no wonder Thaddeus Pennicotts name was so familiar,” Sherlocks huffed a puff of air, “He visits a like minded establishment.”

On the front of the card was a single image, a dove holding a olive leaf, and when you turned the card around there was a woman modelled in immodest clothing with text and an address in perfect hand writing.

“The Mayfair Row Dove club.”

You almost dropped the card in the mud at your feet.

He tucked the card back into his breast pocket and hooked his arm around yours, walking you closer to Lestrade waving his hands back at you both.

“I’m curious who his go to bird is there,” He chuckled.

You shook your head and scoffed in disbelief, “but she’s pregnant.”

“Men have needs,” Sherlock sighed, “I thought you’d have learnt that from last evening?”

Your nails dug harder into his arm and grit your teeth. Not everyone was as depraved as Sherlock, surely not. You couldn’t imagine Mycroft or your grandfather practicing such atrocities on women, especially women that weren’t their wives.

You noted snootily, “She said her husband liked to stand out by the roses to think. Perhaps he regretted his choice.”

Sherlock laughed cruelly and hard enough to almost drop his pipe from his lips. He plucked it out of his mouth and kissed you hard and squarely in front of Lestrade and any passing people that shook their heads in disgust at such public affection.

The taste of his tobacco filled your cheeks and floated down your throat into your chest. You could feel how his breath became your breath. Your head grew dizzy from it. His release left you trembling and collapsing against him briefly. His arm grabbed around your waist and held you totally against his chest.

“You see too much good in the worst people,” he whispered wetly into your ear.

“Not true,” you panted, you blinked your eyes hard and tried speaking again. You weakly pushed away from him back onto your own two feet. From the corner of your eyes you could see the inspector standing beside another hackney carriage.

“Not true,” you repeated and swallowed hard, “...I don’t see any good in you Sherlock.”

He grinned devilishly and walked you both to the carriage, He ignored Lestrade entirely except for retrieving his own purse.

“None at all?” Sherlock asked as he helped you step up inside of the carriage. It jostled as he plotted himself next to you instead of opposite.

You thought hard on his question for a time. You shouldn’t have ever been as petty as him. So you kept your silence before you could decide on a eloquent response. You did try to find the good in him. The trouble was you barely knew Sherlock and the side that you’d encounter was nothing short of a blagged, insufferable man that happened to be very experienced in the arts of the bedroom. So you tried to think about qualities you hadn’t seen in him but had at least heard of him.

“You help solve cases and even sometimes restitution, these deeds could be counted as decent and beneficial...perhaps good...”

He smirked until you finished hastily, “However your mistreatment and lustful addiction is nothing short of that than a person that suffers in his sin.”

A long annoyed sigh drew from his lips, however the corners jerked up.

He tug out his pipe and tapped it’s contents out the moving window, “Might I ask Mrs Holmes...” he inquired as he tucked in his pipe, and wiped his lips thoughtfully, “Do you think yourself better than me?”

The silence shared between the horses trotting along the cobblestones allowed you a chance to glare long and hard at Sherlock.

It was a jab, a jibe, a joke, a trick, a trap...

He wanted you to say yes... You could see it in his eyes the way they flicked to your lips and almost drooled with anticipation. He wanted to start a fight.

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at you, you turned your head away and scoffed, “You may have quick wit and a expansive knowledge Sherlock, but I at least carry myself with the fairest morals.”

And that? The reply was granted a omen of Sherlock’s sickly chuckles and his heavy warm hand to sit over your thigh, running his them over the fabric of your skirts.

“We will see how fair a baker street whore morals really are when we arrive home then shall we?”

You leant against the wall of the carriage and chose to ignore him. You closed your eyes and held Sherlock’s hand to prevent it wandering anywhere else. His thumb rubbed along the back of your gloves hands.

You couldn’t understand Sherlock. And feared you never would.

HELPLINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

#dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x ofc #sherlock holmes x female reader #sherlock holmes x poc!reader #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes x ofc #sherlock holmes x reader #dark!sherlock holmes #dark!henry cavill

[fairykazu]

LOVERS' OATH FT. XIAO ! cws: established relationship, in every universe, i'd find you, soulmates. notes: yes, ive been playing love and deepspace and yes, it is inspired by that. princess is used as a gender-neutral term but feel free to replace it with your preferred word, also i might write a part two idk yet masterlist + taglist: @aethion

an oath between two lovers who were forever bound by the soul bond, xiao was always destined to find you but it never meant that you two were guaranteed to fall in love with each other. it was the hundredth year that he was reincarnated into a new world. alas, he was tired. he knew it might take years to find you again but when xiao rested on top of a roof, admiring the moon. 

he smiled. 

it was the same moon that he had seen when he first met you where you helped him from forever being a royal pet to freedom. unlike the human form you’ve witnessed him in different universes. when you two first met, he was a beautiful bird that was bothersome to catch but heavily admired among the kingdoms. the vermillion bird was only caught once with the dragon lord but never again seen. 

until he was captured again by a human who pursued and used the dragon for his own personal gain. xiao was a gift from one of your suitors in your kingdom, you were such a naive princess but yet, he was the one who fell for you first. when the duke, childe, was telling you how he caught the vermillion bird.

the cruel retelling of the story made you wince, knowing what you would do next. after your birthday party had passed, it was midnight and the moon dawned before you. you visited the feathered animal, trapped in the ornate gilded cage with delicate details, already in your room. 

however, when you arrived, the vermillion bird was no longer a bird but instead avian. he was beautiful. admiring his porcelain / tanned skin bore scars that he had fought in countless battles and won; he was an affinity to the moon. but his wings? it completely contrasted the pale complexion he had. his peacock-like feathers, each one shone like rubies, reflecting the vibrant hues of the sunset. the deep emerald, green centerpiece of each quill took a resemblance to an eye. 

you crooned to him, not sure of what to call him,“hello, mr. vermillion?” 

despite being in awe of the sight, your trepidation of what would happen next worries you a little bit. he wasn’t looking at you but instead, he avoided your gaze like it would pierce his skin, leaving the golden cage bloodied with scarlet. “i’m so sorry about what duke childe had done to get you here.” 

you were like a vulture, you circled around the cage. he kept himself to one corner and moved to the next when you were near. frowning, you noticed a small pool of crimson on the marble floor, staining a macabre tapestry. “are you hurt?” 

he didn't want to be a prey to a foolish princess no less to be their pet. as much as xiao wanted to scoff, he stayed quiet, hoping your never-ending questions would fall to silence.

no reply.

you weren’t sure if the bird was able to speak the local language. “can i see your wound? i promise i won’t hurt you…” it was obvious in the avian’s eyes that he didn’t trust you. in every speckle of gold in his amber eyes, there was a speck of distrust.

you nodded, walking away from the cage and to the door. it's clear that he wouldn't trust me if i had guards protecting me if he did attack me.

cracking it open, you asked the guards if they could leave for thirty minutes. they were hesitated at first but after a couple pleas they left without saying another word. “i’ve called off the guards so you won’t be in danger. let me treat that injury and i’ll let you free. don’t you look at me like that?” 

he sheepishly looked away, guilty. sounding a little offended, “i’m not a cruel princess that the rumors say i am.” taking a box under your bed, a safety kit, you brought it to the cage.

before sitting on the marble floor, you were inspecting the injury, you sighed in relief, “thankfully, he didn’t injure you badly. this might hurt.” you took the tweezers and gently nabbed the cut with a cotton swab. thankfully, it wasn’t a deep one. 

he winced a little, his wings flinching with him. he tried to keep a calm demeanor but slowly relaxed in your embrace. 

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry. it would be done after–” you cleaned it once more. “–there you go!” you notice his gaze on you while you take the spool of bandages with the scissors. you paused before asking “can i?”, referring to his wings. 

he let out a hum. as you wrapped the wing, you made sure it was tight but not too tight in case he might have been uncomfortable. “are you okay?”

he only nodded. as promised, you led him to the balcony, the midnight skies were glimmering with stars. you glanced at him once more. when he stood on the railing, you noticed his bandages had fallen off and the wound had healed as quick as the wind seemed to hum around you two. just before he changed his form, he turned to you, “xiao.” 

“what?” 

“xiao’s my name. call me if you need me.” do birds like to return favors? that’s something you had to search up later with the librarians. as the bird took flight, it seemed to weave through the air with an almost ethereal grace, leaving a trail of crimson light in its wake. even though you had set him free, you knew that he’d be back. 

you were right. but you didn’t know how often he had come back to see you, you barely see him in the day but he found solace in your bedroom at night. as the line between dream and reality had blurred, your bond with xiao grew stronger. regardless of the amount of suitors that would line up all around the kingdom’s borders, they were rejected.

xiao recalled the night, the night you had embedded a little bit of him within your soul. it’s his favorite memory to revisit and he could paint every moment with vivid detail. the kingdom sooner or later accepted the princess’s oddity of rejecting princes and princesses, even princess ayaka or uniting a good alliance with the abyss, prince aether. all because of a bird that never leaves their side. 

as midnight drew near, he soared across the skies, noticing how the stars were no longer rivaling the bright beauty of yours. perched on the balcony, he chirped, a sound he would never have believed he’d make before. he heard your giggles and opened your double doors, the white curtains billowing from the breeze. “hello, xiao.” 

the moment he was in your embrace, he transformed from his bird form. as you played with his hair, braiding it a little. he rested on the nape of your neck. “princess, are you afraid of us ever ceasing from existence?” he asked, his words buzzing against your skin. his wings were folded in, tensed because this was a question he wanted to ask moons ago.

it was a likely fate. he was immortal, you weren’t. it was bound to happen. but you paused, your fingers stilled from his hair, he was afraid since he couldn’t even hear you breathe. it was strange. he could hear the pin drop of a townsperson sewing but not you. “... i fear it. i used to believe that i could find an elixir to live forever, to be with you forevermore. but i know that’s just naive to think.” 

he lifted his head away from you, “princess,” 

“you can call me by my name, xiao.” somehow, xiao never was able to get over the formalities in your relationship with him. maybe, blame the man who raised him.

“...name, it could be possible.” you chuckled, tracing his scars on his hands. 

“don’t humor me, xiao. i had grown up from the princess you knew.” 

“not humoring if it’s true. when i was growing up, i’ve heard from my siblings that an avian could bind their soul to someone to be reunited in every lifetime.” you interrupted, 

“that’s not being immortal, xiao.” 

“but you will be with me in every lifetime. isn’t that better?” xiao replied, knowing already that you accepted the idea. or maybe he was desperate to keep you in his life, he wasn’t sure how he was able to live without you. before, it was easy, your paths never condiverged. he hated to thank that stupid ginger but if he had to be bruised until he couldn’t breathe just to be by your side, he’d take it. 

“if you promise to find me.” 

“always.” he replied, stretching out his wings. there was one quill that was different from the others, it was glowing with a dewy golden color. he opened one of your hands, placing the plume into your palm; it pulsed with a luminous intensity. xiao gestured to you to hold it over your heart as you did what he instructed, the feather felt as if it reached out and touched the tips of your soul just before it became one with you. 

he kept his promise with you no matter what. even if the universe had it against him, making the relationship imbalance or never letting you within his embrace that crossed romance. despite the challenges and the obstacles he had faced, he managed to be intertwined in your fate. 

this time, he won’t lose you again. 

#astronetwrk #gender neutral reader #xiao x reader #xiao x you #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader

[nickfowlerrr]

darling, it's cold outside.

pairing: charles blackwood x curvy!reader

words: 2.7k

warnings: 18+ only. cockwarming. not foot fetish stuff but he does remove her heels for her? lol. pining. little bit of holiday blues mentioned but overall this is pretty fluffy. maybe like the littlest bit soft!dark if you squint.

notes: very happy to be writing for charles again, i've missed him. 🥹

inspired by this txt post, this is one of seven characters i’m writing this prompt of sorts for. thank you in advance for reading and as always, reblogs and comments are welcome and so appreciated. ❣️

"Mr. Blackwood," you call out as you walk down the empty hallway, your heels clacking on the marble flooring as you go, "I remade the guest bedroom like you asked. If there's nothing else for tonight, I was going to be heading home?"

You look into his open office as you pass, he's not there. Curious...

You continue down the hall, peeking into the study, then the tea room, and then the living room - none of which held him. The television in the living room was on, however, so you assumed he must be close by. But where?

Normally you find it difficult to get more than a few minutes alone from him when you're working, but now the man of the house is as elusive as your holiday spirit seems to be this year.

The pitter patter of the rain outside the castle captures your attention as you pass the grand window.

"Oh no," you sigh as you peer out into the dreary scene. The Christmas lights strung up outside appear blurry through the rain droplets on the glass as the sky grows darker with each moment that passes.

You were supposed to be out of here by 3pm, but Charles, for the first time since you'd started working for him, had many a qualm about your cleaning and tidyings today. You had to go over the bathrooms twice and were instructed to remake his bed before reattending to the guest room. It was nearing 5:30 now, and the rain you were hoping to avoid has clearly already begun - and if the weatherman was correct - would be staying long through the night.

It's not a terribly long walk home, but in your uniform, having to walk home in the rain is a less than ideal situation.

But you resign yourself to your fate as you turn from the window and continue on your search for your boss.

"Mr. Blackwood," you call again, "I'm about to be heading home."

As you finish your sentence, crossing in front of the lavish cranberry colored couch, you notice the throw blanket you had folded and put away earlier is now adorning the cushions. You think to check by the linen closet on the other side of the staircase - hoping to find him somewhere over there so he may dismiss you for the night.

You are about to leave the room when suddenly you hear the kettle whistle sharply from the kitchen. Your brows knit together as you stop in your tracks and turn back around to go toward the kitchen instead.

The sound of your heels as you walk informs Charles of your presence as you enter the room. He turns from the stove, having just moved the kettle from one burner to the other, and looks surprised to see you.

"Oh," he said, nonplussed, "you're still here?" His brow was raised as he looked at you.

You felt stumped yourself, standing blankly for a moment before blinking away your confusion. "Yes, I- I just finished remaking the guest bedroom like you asked," you stammered just slightly.

"Oh, perfect. Thank you. You really are an angel, you know that?" he praised, smiling that ever charming smile at you.

You couldn't help but return one of your own, eyes flicking down almost immediately, unable to hold his gaze.

You sucked in a breath, schooling your face as you looked back up. "Did you want to check it over?"

"No," he brushed off with a shake of his head, turning back to open the cabinet behind him, "I'm sure everything is in order. I trust you."

Your lips twitch as you hold back a disbelieving laugh. He seemed so concerned earlier...

"Alright. Well, if that's everything, Mr. Blackwood-"

"Charles," he corrects.

"...Charles," you amend, "if that was all, I was planning on heading out for the night."

"Of course," he agrees, turning to face you once again, with two mugs in his hands. "Do you have time for some hot chocolate, or will your ride be here soon?"

"Oh, I don't have a ride," you hide a grimace at the reminder of your lonesomeness. Well...maybe you could call a cab? But no, that short ride would just feel like a waste of your hard earned money. And anyway, Charles knows you walk to and from. He's chided you on it before. You'll never forget the way you warmed at his concern for you that first time. He had offered you a ride home, but you refused. It was a clear evening and there really was no reason for any fuss. But of course, his worry still made your heart flutter.

The mugs clink as they're set down on the counter, the sound brining you back to the room. "Sweetheart, it's raining. Supposed to only pick up, too. If you were planning on walking, I don't think that'd be a good idea."

The pet name has butterflies taking flight in your tummy as you work to tamp them down.

"It's not that far of a walk, I'm sure I'll be fine."

"I must insist that you stay," he presses, your name sounding so nicely on his tongue. "Please. I would offer you a ride myself but I'm afraid my headlight blew out, I wouldn't be able to see a thing. The guest room would be yours and I could drive you home in the morning. Or, if you insist, the weather should be fairer by then - enough to walk if you really want."

"Oh, really, I would hate to inconvenience you, sir."

"Not at all," he assures you as he prepares both mugs of coco. "In fact, I think it'd be nice to have some company for the holiday. In a house this big, being alone can feel rather lonely."

You consider his words and can't help but agree. "It can feel much the same in a small home, too," you say with a bittersweet smile. "If you really don't mind, I'd be thankful to stay."

"And I'd be thankful for the company," he smiles back. "I was about to start a movie."

You trail behind him slowly as he leads the way back to the living room. When you get to the couch, he sets both mugs down on the coffee table as he gestures for you to sit.

"Please, get comfortable. You've been on your feet all day."

You don't argue and take your seat. The couch is as comfortable as it always looks and you can't help but sigh as you relish the feeling. You almost instinctively kick off your heels, but stop yourself right in time. Charles notices the twitch of your feet, however.

You hold in a gasp as he kneels down before you and takes hold of your foot. His eyes flash up to yours as you stare down at him, lips parted and breath stalled. He slips your heel off and squeezes your foot lightly before repeating the same to your other foot. No words are exchanged as he pops back up and walks to the television. He pushes a tape into the player before sauntering back over to you.

You want to lift a leg up underneath you but don't allow yourself to, especially not while you're in this skirt. Charles takes the spot beside you and you somehow go even more rigid at his proximity.

"I said get comfortable, darling," he chides, pulling you in closer to him, "I meant it."

You allow yourself to fall into his side, and then after a long second, slowly bring a leg up to get more comfortable beside him. Another long moment, and you bring your other leg up as well, repositioning yourself while you shimmy the littlest bit closer.

Charles is warm and the room is a bit cold, so you don't mind how close he actually is. Maybe more aptly, how close you are to him...

You try to focus on the opening scene of the holiday movie you've only heard of before, never actually having had the chance to see it. But as Charles leans over and grabs the throw he'd brought out earlier, he takes over your focus once again. He drapes the blanket over both of you before settling back, essentially right against you now.

Your heart is beating so loud, you're almost sure he can hear it if he listens close enough.

Charles wraps his arm around your shoulder and you instinctively scoot closer still, letting your head rest on his chest trepidatiously. He hums his approval as you do.

"Is this okay?" he asks quietly, keeping the cozy and comfortable ambience in tact.

You're quiet, unsure of what to say. Does it feel okay? It feels like everything you've dreamed of since meeting the man. But is it okay? That you're not so sure of. Are you crossing a line? Is this a mistake?... Oh god, what are you doing? You can't lose this job!

You push yourself to sit up, pulling away from Charles as he looks at you, stunned by your haste.

"I- I'm so sorry, Mr. Blackwood. I don't know what's come over me. I should, I should go," you rush your words as you try to stand.

Try.

Charles' hand is on you in an instant, keeping you in place. You look at him with wide eyes, like a deer in headlights. He says your name and you don't think to try and get up again.

"Darling, I don't know what you're apologizing for. If I've made you uncomfortable, I should be apologizing to you," he says. "...Have I? Made you uncomfortable?"

You stare into the hypnotic gaze of his cerulean blue eyes, taking in his words. It's a moment before you softly shake your head. "No," you nearly whisper. "No, you haven't." He nods, admiring your face as you peer at him.

"That's good. And, it's Ch-"

"Charles," you cut him off. "I know. Habit," you shrug lightly.

"One you'll hopefully come to break," he smirks. "So, back to my question," he pulls you closer, "Was that okay? Being that close to me?"

You nod meekly, "Yes."

"And was it okay that I put my arm around you?"

Another weak murmur as you unconsciously lean into him, "Yes."

"And just to be sure," he breathes, leaning closer into you in return, "do you really want to leave?"

Your breath catches in your throat as you shake your head. "No."

"One last question," he says as he brings a hand to your cheek, holding your face delicately as he urges you closer. You're nose to nose as he continues, "Would it be okay if I kissed you now?"

You smile softly, your lips brush his as you answer him. "Yes," you nod.

He pulls you in gently and your hand holds his to your face as he finally kisses you, so softly you swear you could melt into the cushions.

You murmur again into the kiss as your eyelids flutter shut. Without thinking, you deepen the kiss. You find your body moving without your permission as you pull yourself more into him - almost crawling along the cushions to get closer to him.

Charles doesn't stop you, in fact, he leans back further - pulling you along the way, moving you up his lap.

Your skirt stretches across your thick thighs as you are maneuvered by him onto his lap. You straddle him as his arms come around you, pulling you to be flush against him - his lips never stopping as he kisses you so completely, so passionately. The intensity only grows more fervent as you return the desire in kind.

You mindlessly move your hips against his and he moans at the feeling. The sound of his pleasure is music to your ears and serves to get you even more worked up. You can feel the slickness as it grows between your thighs. And as you rock your hips again, you can feel Charles' excitement, too.

He is hard beneath you, his erection growing more and more prominent with each second.

"Mhm," you mewl against his lips, breaking for a breath, "Charles," you sigh - rocking once more. The friction sending a wave of sparking pleasure through you.

"Does that feel good for you, angel?" he asks, hands grabbing your hips.

You nod helplessly, "Feels so good."

He kisses you again, harder this time as he holds you in place on his lap. "I know what would feel even better," he says huskily.

He reaches for the button of his slacks and you bite your lip, a few nerves building now. You pull away from him ever so slightly as he begins to undo his pants.

"Um, Charles," you nearly whisper, waiting for a response you don't get.

You watch with heavy lidded eyes and parted, pouted lips as he pulls his straining cock from his briefs. You almost feel frozen for a second before one of his hands comes up and buries itself between your thighs. You yelp, squeaking at the touch.

"Charles, I don't know if we should-"

"Oh, sweetheart, don't worry," he hushes you. You gasp with a tremble and a light moan as his deft fingers slide up and along your clothed sex. You tilt your hips as he feels along your cunt and don't stop him when he moves your underwear to the side.

His eyes are trained on your face, he watches as it contorts with the beginning sparks of your pleasure under his touch. His dick is throbbing, on the verge of starting to leak for you.

He can't wait any longer, he's waited so long already. He needs to have you around him. Needs to feel your warmth envelope him and your weight as you sit on him. He doesn't even need to go all the way with you - not tonight. He just wants to feel you.

His tongue slips past his pillowy lips as he grips himself with one hand, guiding his red tip to your tight, slick entrance. He presses against you but you slightly back away - still unsure.

"I just want to feel you, angel. That's all. I promise. Just need you to sit down and that'll be it. Just sit right here and keep me warm for a bit. You can do that, can't you, darling?"

A sigh of relief escapes you as you slacken a bit into him. You can do that, you decide. You nod your head and bring one of your hands to his shoulders. He presses against you again and this time you move into him. You whine at the sting of his intrusion as he helps ease you down onto his length a little at a time. When you are fully seated, you drop your head into the crook of his neck as one of his hands rubs your back.

"Fuck, doesn't that feel nice?" he asks, voice breathy. You only nod against him as your walls stretch around his cock, squeezing him every so often.

"Yes," you huff, "Oh, it feels so nice, Charles."

He pulls you from his neck, brushing his nose against yours as he brings you face to face with him again.

"I knew we'd be a perfect fit," he smirks, kissing you hotly as you press yourself closer to him, returning his kiss.

"I said the guest room was yours, but there's room enough for two in my bed if you'd rather," he simpers.

"I think I just might rather," you whisper with a smile against his lips. You move to sit up but are immediately pulled back down onto his cock. You moan deeply at the movement, the drag of his length along your walls and the way your walls work to keep him inside of you. To be fair, you aren't the most experienced woman in the world, but the feeling of him is unlike anything you've ever felt before. You are entirely full of him and you fear you won't want to ever go empty again.

"Not just yet, sweetheart," he laughs, holding you down. "We aren't even halfway through the movie yet. And we have all night before we take this upstairs, angel. I want to make sure this is a Christmas we'll always remember."

#charles blackwood x curvy!reader #charles blackwood x reader #charles blackwood #charles blackwood fic #charles blackwood smut #charles blackwood fluff #sebastian stan characters #charles blackwood x you #charles blackwood x y/n

[papasbaseball]

Raphael x Reader (Till Death Do Us Part)

+18 CONTENT NOT FOR MINORS. MINORS KEEP SCROLLING

Pairing: Raphael x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Sexual Coercion. You sign a contract without reading that indebts you to Raphael. Mentions and descriptions of torture (flaying(not done to the reader)).

Summary: You went looking for a lawyer to help with your divorce. Always read what you sign or you might end up in bed with the Devil.

Word Count: 2,379

Notes: This was inspired by the CONTRACT THAT WE ALL SIGNED WHEN WE INSTALLED BG3???? Definitely did not read the Terms and Conditions. Someone suggested that Raphael was Larian's lawyer and well... here we are.

AO3 Link

He wanted the house, the new Mercedes you bought last month, and alimony to boot. For a cheater, he certainly footed a high bill.

“And you didn’t get any evidence of his… infidelity?” The crooked frown of your newly acquired lawyer, Raphael Hope, betrayed the polite substitution. His eyes ate into his skull in a fashion that spoke of many a long night and too many encounters with jackasses. Perhaps in private company, he would not be so quick to bite his tongue.

The words came out tightly. ”I came home early from work and that’s when I saw him…screwing my cousin on the brand-new sofa.”

He walked to the minifridge in the corner of the room, fetching a bottle of Evian. He sat it to the side of your consultation folder. You thanked him quietly, letting your shoulders fall as the coolness of the water slipped and soothed your hoarse throat that you had earned from a night spent on your coworker’s couch.

”A pity, really,” he said. “To throw away a marriage to someone as exquisite as yourself? I would not blame you if you thought all men to be fools.”

His words and the bass he put into them forced your gaze to the consultation folder, intent on figuring out if the font of “Hope Law Firm” was serif or not. His eyes glowed a genuine amber that reminded you too much of sparks from 3 years ago.

”I didn’t come here to flirt, Mr. Hope,” you said, taking another sip of water.

”I am a man of facts. It is only the truth.” Putting a black marbled pen to the notepad of his padfolio, he continued, “No evidence will make it difficult to win in court. You are certain there are no texts, no photo-“

”There’s nothing,” you interrupted. The golden nib stopped scratching, fire lighting in his eyes.

”Please-“ He blinked and it vanished, his face set once more in cool professionalism. “We have ways of getting evidence, but most people find it to be out of their price range. Think very carefully, dear.”

The blood crept into your cheeks at the endearment. Your soon-to-be ex-husband had always called you “babe”. It felt commonplace and cheap, the kind of sweetener that a boy might use to get into his college girlfriend’s pants. Raphael's words smoldered on his tongue and felt anything but commonplace. The crisp suit, the soft but styled chestnut hair, the smoky cologne that promised wealth and wins in the courtroom. If Satan had built the perfect lawyer, it was him.

You shook your head.

He sighed, sliding a thick cream-colored paper out from the back of his padfolio and over to you. The page's weight was increased by the bold black letters across the top: AGREEMENT. You flipped the paper, surprised that the back was blank.

”Read it if you would like, but this permits us to do our own snooping. We have a 100% success rate, but our methods are… unorthodox.”

He had no website boasting wins or guarantees when you’d gone looking for a lawyer, but the newspapers had done that enough for him. Win after win gilded his name on every article in the news tab, tales of mob bosses and politicians clearly guilty getting off. You knew this was coming.

Biting your lip, you took the pen that Raphael offered you and scrawled your signature as quickly as you could across the bottom. Better to be fast than to change your mind. A sigh of disappointment from him froze your hand.

”You should really read things before you sign them, dear.”

With a wave, the doors slammed shut, window shades dropped, and sconces gleamed an angry red. The table and chairs vanished in a cloud of ash and smoke that swept up the walls, devouring the dark blue and mahogany into volcanic stone veined with bloodied quartz. Scrambling towards the exit, you watched as the door and handle were soon too devoured by that awful smoke.

”Let me out,” you begged, turning to face him. “You can’t keep me here.”

”Can’t I?” he chuckled. “I must… per our contract agreement of course.” The cream-colored paper floated up into his palm, having survived the incineration of the room. “From this day forth, I do agree to be willingly at the service of Raphael of the House of Hope until he sees fit to relinquish me from his company.” He laughed at this, directing his darkened gaze toward you. “It is not often my servants are so rare in beauty.”

“My roommate-“

”Will not miss you,” he finished. “Nobody at that dead-end job loved you. No husband at home to cry for your absence. No children to weep for their mother’s milk.” His pupils burned hot like dying stars against an obsidian sclera, raking over your body. “At least not yet.”

He stalked you into the corner like a lion, a smile forming when you whimpered as he got too close. Another sweep of the hand and the contract engulfed in flames to reveal a great dagger, golden from hilt to tip—the point nestled under the tip of your chin.

”What should I do with you, little mouse?” He crooned, cocking his head to one side. “So careless. I can’t have that in my service.”

“I promise I won’t tell anyone,” you breathed, trying to ignore the tear that slipped down your cheek. The dagger tip pressed into the delicate skin, raising you until you were standing once more. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

”Of course you will,” he said. “You have no choice.” He drew closer until you could taste the tart cherry undernote of his cologne. “I would like a taste, dear.”

Your fingers trembled reaching for the soft charcoal lapel of his suitcoat that rose and fell with each breath. It stilled for a moment as you looked up into his face. A sharp brow quirked, highlighting those wicked eyes. A weak tug of his lapel earned you a smile and he bent just enough for you to touch your lips to his. His hand slithered up your back as if he had done this a thousand times before, a modest touch enough to set your nerves alight. Your tongue flicked across his smirk, and he parted those unforgiving lips.

Whether he was a devil, a trickster, or some other creature made no difference. His cool indifference sparked something within you, however small. His hand splayed across your back, pushing you into him to be devoured. The sharp line of his nose pressed into your cheek, a small groan as if he were devouring a cake that was soaked in the sweet fruit syrup of the summer sun. You pressed your tongue into his, desperate to taste the honeyed words he’d used to get you to let your guard down so easily. Your legs were soon wrapping themselves around his waist.

“Greed looks good on you, little mouse,” he said, dipping his head to trail kisses down your jaw.

“You’re a monster,” you protested, voice breathless and hungry for more of his lips and tongue.

He nipped into the crook of your neck. “I can stop if you would like. Denying you your pleasures has its own charm.”

You gasped, grabbing a handful of his soft hair as he licked and sucked. Your mind toyed with the idea of trying to escape, but every time you got close to the plan of finding an exit the thought slipped away into the lust of him pressing you up against the jagged wall, knife still to your chin.

“Mr. Hope-”

“Your Excellency,” he cut you off.

The stabbing points of the rock behind you retracted and you watched the darkened cave transform into a room decked in gaudy red and gold with ceilings high enough to house God. He carried you to the bed made softer than sin, kneeing open your legs.

Light glimmered over him to reveal a monstrous form, complete with horns that looked like twisted stone and demonic crimson wings that served as a terrifying backdrop to your captor. Black claws shredded the woolen skirt, pantyhose, and pink satin panties that you picked out that morning, leaving scratches on your stomach in their careless destruction. A growl at the sight of the warmth that you offered him was all the warning given before he finished butchering the turtleneck and lacy bra.

“I’m going to enjoy breaking you, crushing you until the only words from your mouth are “Yes, Your Excellency”. Given how wet you are, it should not be long.”

You crawl back further onto the bed, away from him. “I’m not.”

“Please. Even a human could smell the way your cunt is aching for me to stretch it and fill it.” He crawled onto the bed after you, pulling your legs apart once more, bringing his face close to your needy sex. “Would you like to see how a real man does it?”

Your ex always had an excuse for refusing to go down on you. One night he’d claim that his jaw locked up easily, the next he’d say he preferred only freshly shaven. They were endless to the point that you had stopped asking. Raphael nipped at the skin of your inner thigh, begging you to answer.

“Are you going to bite me?” you stuttered.

He smiled. “Would you like me to?”

You grabbed one of the rough horns, guiding him towards your pussy. His tongue glided through your folds until it found your clit. The dying stars looked from under his brow in eager sadism as he suckled the bundle of nerves between his lips. Your back parted from his bed and you shut your eyes as bliss clenched through you.

“Watch me or suffer,” he growled before returning to his ministrations.

Your eyes snapped open as you watched him toy and tease, nibbling and flicking in a new and exciting way with each gasp and whine. He would push you as close to the edge as he could before backing off in cruel delight, mocking your weakness as you pulled futilely on his horns.

“Is there something you want, little mouse?” he said.

“P-please.”

The tip of his claw circled your abused clit. “Please, what?”

The pride stabbed in your throat, trying to claw its way out. “Please, let me cum… Your Excellency.” The words tasted like battery acid, but they satisfied that shit-eating grin of his.

His mouth glistened with your juices as he kissed you deeply once more. “I will think about it.”

The shimmering light swept over him once more to reveal his naked form. Despite him being a monster, you whimpered when you caught sight of his cock. It was built for a creature much bigger than you, a deep red of coagulated blood and wrapped in ridges.

“It’s not going to fit,” you pleaded, digging your nails into his biceps as he pulled away. They slipped out of your grasp and he shouldered one of your legs and then the other.

“Relax. You are too tense.” He lined the tip up and slowly pushed the head in, flaring his wings in response. “Gods you are tight. When was the last time you were properly used?”

It was difficult to hold onto the last remaining bits of sanity as he slid in further. You clench in protest, feeling the burning pain as he stretched you fuller still. “I-” You groan as he slips further in.  “N-never..”

His lips brushed gently against the fresh bruises on your neck, picking them over to find a spot unmarked by his hunger. He stopped pushing, letting you adjust to him. “A pity. I can’t wait to flay that bastard after I finish him in the courtroom.”

His hips pressed forward once more until he had buried himself to the hilt. “Would you like that, my little mouse? I can let you watch as I skin slice after bloody slice off of him. Torture him just enough and then make him watch as I claim your cunt and fill you deep with my seed.” He rocked into you, simulating his wicked plan. “I want to hear him scream as I finish what he couldn’t.”

You groaned as he pushed into you again, stretching you even more. He pulled out and buried himself into you again and again. His claws bit into the flesh of your hips. The thought of him torturing your ex as he fucked you mercilessly put a lurch in your stomach, but it was quickly washed away thinking about the power of Raphael at your side in the courtroom. Giving him the just desserts that the legal system refused to give would be the cherry on top of taking everything from him. The rush mixed and intertwined with the lust bringing you closer and closer toward the edge.

“I-I’m…” you said.

He snorted. “So easy.” The amusement in his voice went straight to your core. He quickened his pace once more. “Cum for me, my little mouse.”

His teeth sank into your shoulder and it sent you tumbling, wave after wave gripping him in desperation. The movement of his hips stuttered after a few more thrusts and you felt the burning heat of him as he growled into your flesh, filling you with the filth of a devil.

He removed his teeth from your shoulder and slid out of you, leaving you aching and wounded. Reaching into the top drawer of the nightstand, he pulled out a gilded cigarette, lighting it with a flash of magic. He took a long drag before reclining back on his side of the bed.

You crept close, wincing as you propped yourself up on your injured arm. His eyes were focused on the far-off paintings on the ceiling. “Did you mean it?” you said. “About torturing him and making him watch?”

The devil exhaled the sweet cherry-scented smoke out of his nostrils. “After I beat him bloody in the courthouse, yes.” He took another drag. “Why?”

You plucked the cigarette out of his clawed hand, taking a drag yourself. “I want you to kill him when you’re finished.”

Raphael smiled, snatching the cigarette back. “Till death do us part.”

#raphael x reader #smutty smut smut

[apricotg0rl]

Wedding dresses and funerals 🕰️🪦📜

Tommy x reader

Genre: angst?

Word count: 540

Warnings: guns mentioned and blood as-well as a considerable age gap -forced marriage

(If there was a warning or something triggering I forgot to mention please message me so I can correct my mistake)

Side note: my small oneshot was inspired by this painting ‘signing the register’ 1920 by Edmond Blair Leighton as I feel it’s fitting once again towards the atmosphere of Tommys character and taking into the account of Mr Gold’s daughter and how arranged marriages have been a major topic of history and marriage was more a business arrangement than something to do with love.

So yeah if I got anything wrong tell me because I normally tend to not reread my writing out of embarrassment hence why the multiple incorrect grammar in the last post.

“And as I write this I scramble to find a drop of sincerity in this marriage and hope that I will find love within its contract that bind us together but deep within I mourn. Mourn for my innocence, mourn for the young girl who was promised jewels made from cut stone but here I stand with a ring stained with blood and the lives he took just to slip it on my raw fingers. “

After pondering at the scraps of paper Y/N carved into she looked around to see the presence of the monotonous man she was wedded off to.

“Will I just be another trophy for you to show off?” She asks with distain in her voice while dropping her head to the floor as she drowns in shame. “Or will I have a somewhat value to you other than being paraded around?” She knew her youth was a beneficial gain for him but the taboo circumstances circulating it left it to be unsaid leaving a lingering tension between the two and the spectators that had witnessed the ceremony. It was obvious that very little of his family agreed with the sickening idea as spiteful whispers lurked the halls of the house while she stayed locked up in her room suffocating in a ridiculous wedding dress.

“Can you just behave and come downstairs” tommy demanded while staring down the gaunt girl drowning in the white fabric that had her desperate for air as it clung tightly onto her skin.

“How can I possibly behave when I’ve been married off to a monster?!” She spat at him whilst attempting to soak up her translucent tears. Once her words reached his ears he wrinkled his nose in disgust “monster?!” He remarked at her tensed up expression and he took a glance at her following with an intense gaze at her heaving chest which resulted with a sharp pang of guilt.

“I am not to blame..it was your father who proposed the idea” he replied shaking his head in disbelief at the girls outlandish behaviour yet still acting like a child himself playing the silly game of who did it first.

Y/N’s jaw went slack at the idea of the very man who promised her own safety since her first breath selling her off to the next man who could “tame” her.

“I tried to take the responsibility but I can’t have my wife hating my very own existence and cursing the day I was born”

Y/N retched at his use of words and stood from her chair in pure disbelief that was now intertwined with venom. The assertive man stood within her eyeline and palmed the gun from his pocket and slammed it on the table infront of her looking for something other than contempt in her eyes. “If you want to take out your anger he’s downstairs with the rest of the family” he exclaimed, almost tempting her like the snake from the genesis story that had fooled Eve, as the choice of life and death rattled around her mind like a marble in a wheel.

“But if you decide to become vengeful you can no longer live on that pedestal that you look down on me from when blood is spilt on your hands” he spat as he roughly grabbed onto her shoulders trying to shake the insanity out of her that dwindled like a flickering candle flame.

“Is that what it takes to become a Shelby?”

#fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinder imagine #cillian murphy x reader

[shujohajohaminnie]

Mrs. Black

I created a playlist here. These are just some of the songs that were playing in my head while I was writing this. Glory Box by Portishead being a big influence. So you could listen to the songs while you read if you really want to get into the mood, but you don’t have to.

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x fem!reader

Genre:Smut, Fluff towards the end

Word Count:2435

Summary: It’s advised that sometimes you shouldn’t take pillow talk too serious but what happens when you step out of your comfort zone and try something new inspired by your late-night talks? 

Afab!reader, Profanity, Pet names(Baby, Goodgirl, Angel), Cheating, Roleplaying, Raw sex (Wrap it before you tap it). 

This was new to you. All of this was new to you. You didn’t think late-night pillow talk that half of the time was just composed of jokes would be taken literal. You began to shake in anticipation. Was this intimidating? Yes, but oh was it exhilarating. You hummed contently when you looked at yourself in the hotel mirror. You looked amazing, you looked the part. The CEO’s wife was it? The boss’s wife had to always look her best, and by the way, the black silk dress hugged your curves, Your Hollywood curls framed your face, and the gold jewelry that you chose to accompany this beautiful outfit, you’ve never looked better. You ran your finger through the slit of the dress leaving behind goosebumps in its wake. You looked really good, you almost wanted to ditch your husband tonight and lay back in bed, to please yourself for looking this amazing. 

A familiar ding took you out of your trance. You rolled your eyes as you picked up your phone looking at the text. Running late? “Pathetic cunt” You sighed grabbing your coat and bag walking out of the hotel room and down the hall towards the elevator. The clicking sound of your red bottom stilettos filling the empty hallway. You entered the elevator making your way down and into the lobby. This hotel was the embodiment of luxury. The gorgeous chandelier that hung in the lobby shined bright, the marble floors were spotless. This was the least he could do for being a terrible fucker. You thought to yourself as you walked through the lobby and out the front doors, catching the eyes of everyone in the foyer. You approached the car your husband ordered for you. The driver opened the door with a big smile. “Good afternoon Mrs. Black” You laughed to yourself at the name as you settled into the backseat. “How creative” you mumbled, serving yourself a glass of champagne that was provided to you. 

I've been a temptress for too long

You took a seat at the bar, the place wasn’t bad. It was dimly lit, soft rock playing in the background. Despite it being a Friday night it wasn’t as packed. You needed to be somebody to come in. “What can I get you ma’am” “Red wine… please” the bartender nodded, disappearing to get your drink. “You look beautiful” a hypnotic voice rang through your ears. “I’m not interested” You didn’t bother turning to look who it belonged to, already knowing how the game would be played. Just like you planned he took a seat next to you, and only then did you look at him. He was dressed in an all-black suit, his black hair styled perfectly. His pale skin glowed even in the darkness of the bar. His dark eyes stared right through you, making you feel weak in the knees. He was mesmerizing. 

“Is this man disturbing you ma’am?” the bartender asked, placing the glass of wine in front of me.  “No he’s fine” “Could I get a scotch on the rocks when you get a chance” “Sure” The bartender rolled his eyes walking away. “He’s mad” “Why would he be mad?” “Because I’m talking to a beautiful lady like yourself who he thought he could have a chance with” “Is that so… did he tell you that” “Didn’t have to” The bartender came back handing the man his drink of choice. “Could I ask you for the member's name ma’am?” “Black, Samuel” The stranger laughed to himself taking a sip of his drink. “Something funny?” “I know Sam” “And how do you know my husband” “My company and his company are competitors… I run my company better… I am better” “I don’t doubt it” “I’m sorry?” “My husband’s a piece of shit… in every way, at work, at home, in bed” “Would you like an upgrade” “What are you suggesting” the words dripped off your lips. Your voice sounded rich like the best silk money could buy, the silk you were currently modeling, yet sounded soft and inviting like velvet on naked skin. He was instantly put into a trance. He was playing by your rules. You smiled taking a sip of your drink, your red lipstick transferring onto the glass. “You’re a modern-day Jezebel” “I didn’t take you for a religious man” “You know what I mean” "Do I?" You batted your lashes, your finger circling the rim of the glass as you bit your lip smiling at the effect you had on him. Such a man with so much power here at your dispense. "I didn't get your name" "Hwang… Hwang Hyunjin" "Y/n… Y/n Black" You extended your hand shaking his hand with such delicacy. You played as if you had power but by your handshake, you were waiting for him to take charge. He got your message. His shake was a complete contrast it being firm and demanding. "Pleasure" he whispered as his plush lips placed a kiss on the top of your hand. 

"What were you before you married him” “Y/l/n” “That sounds better than Black, everything sounds better than Black” “Do something about it” I smirked nodding towards the exit. His eyes darkened as he nodded. He placed a bill on the table paying for both of your drinks and still enough for a more than generous tip. 

He kissed your lips hungrily against the elevator wall, his hands dancing across your body unsure of where to touch first. Ding, he pulled away the both of you standing far from each other as an older couple walked in. Holding each other the couple smiled at us. I fixed my lipstick thinking ‘That could be- FOCUS! 

He picked you up bridal style hurriedly walking towards your room. “Someone’s in a hurry” “I need to feel you now” He spoke lowly placing another kiss on your lips. He quickly opened your door. He laid you down your lips still connected in a passionate, electrifying, sensual kiss. “I need you” you moaned feeling his bulge grind against your clothed core. “Fuck baby” He moaned into the kiss quickly undoing his belt and pulling down his pants and boxers in a swift moment not wanting to waste any more time. He picked you off the bed, in fast movements reaching behind you to unzip your dress letting it pool around your legs. His eyes landed on your bare chest smiling at the view in front of him. “Fucking slut…Should we film this for your husband to watch later” “Mhmm” you bit your lip looking at Hyunjin. He smiled turning around and grabbing his phone from his pants pocket setting it up perfectly to get both you and him on the bed. He made his way back to you kneeling right in front of you pulling you closer to the edge. You felt butterflies in your stomach from anticipation. His finger brushed against your aching pussy. “Hyunjin please” “Please what” “Do something… anything” He looked up at you as he pulled the lacy underwear down your legs, throwing them who knows where. He kissed the inside of your thigh slowly trailing toward where you really wanted him needed him. 

He kissed your clit slowly earning a strained whimper from your lips. “Hyunjin stop teasing me” “What do you say?” “P-please” “Good girl” he whispered. He slowly licked a long stripe down your clit stopping right at your entrance collecting some of your juices that were already seeping out. “Fuck baby are you excited” “Mhmm” you moaned biting down on your bottom lip stopping yourself from moaning too loud as you felt him slowly insert one of his fingers. “Fuck your so tight… you're gripping me so tight” He moaned against your pussy sending vibrations right through you. He began to lick your clit while he pumped his fingers in and out of you. His free hand reaching up to pinch your already hard nipples. Your back arched at the bliss you were feeling all around. “F-fuck” You moaned grabbing the sheets as you felt him insert another finger stretching you out for him. “Hyun- Hyunjin I’m gonna-” “Cum for me baby… cum for me” He groaned increasing his speed on both your clit and entrance. “Please oh my-” You didn’t even know what you were begging for. Losing total control of your mind, words just started to flow out. 

You felt that familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach. You moaned loudly gripping the sheets tighter as you let go cumming on his face. 

“You taste so fucking good” He smiled getting up. He kissed your lips tasting yourself on his tongue. He wasn’t wrong you did taste good. “Do… do you want me to” “After… If I’m not in you in the next ten seconds I’m gonna go insane” He laughed pulling away to look down. Lining himself up against your entrance. He looked at you for confirmation that you still wanted to do this. As much as he needed you he would most definitely stop all of this and call it a night. But he’s grateful you didn’t. Feeling excitement coursing through his veins as you nodded. He slowly sank into you. Hyunjin closed his eyes throwing his head back at the feeling of you around his cock. Both of your pornographic moans filling up the space around you as he filled you up. You could feel every vein on his dick, your senses heightened. He looked at you waiting for the sign that would let him know to start moving. Seeing the way your eyes were shut closed your mouth agape and your head thrown back as you adjusted to him little by little. You nodded still not opening your eyes. There was the sign. He began to thrust in and out of you at a slow pace not wanting to hurt you. Even though all he wanted to do was take you fast and rough. 

“Hyunjin f-faster” You moaned clawing at his shoulders. He obeyed going faster driving the both of you mad. You wrapped your legs around his waist pulling him closer, he thrusted deeper into you beautifully kissing that spot that drove you nuts. You bit your lip as you arched your back digging your nails into his back. “Your voice is too pretty to be quiet… scream for me baby let them hear who does this to you” He whispered kissing and sucking your neck surely leaving marks for you to see tomorrow. “FUCK HYUNJIN” You yelled kissing his lips as you felt your second orgasm approaching. You tightened around him causing his grip on your hip to tighten as he thrusted into you harder. “I’m gonna” “Me too” “Cum inside me Hyunjin” “Are you sure” he groaned resting his head in the crook of your neck. “Mhmm do it” “Cum with me” his voice low and raspy as he whispered in your ear throwing you over the edge. You both came together. His thrust slowing down to a stop. He kissed your lips to distract you from him pulling out. You whined at the emptiness.

He helped you up, leading you to the hotel bathroom. The both of you quickly washed up and got dressed for bed. You threw on one of his t-shirts and your favorite sleep shorts, him throwing on just a clean pair of boxers. He took his phone and cut the video getting rid of any empty footage it got while you two showered. He connected his phone to the charger and turned to look at you. Cherishing your beauty. Your hair thrown into a messy bun, your glasses on and your face bare. Yes, you looked beautiful in your outfit before but right now…oh right now you looked gorgeous. “What?” “Nothing”. You turned back to your nightstand seeing one of his baseball hats filled with prompts the both of you thought of. You grabbed the piece of paper left right beside it turning around to look back at Hyunjin. “So how would you rate my acting” You smiled handing him the piece of paper.CEO’s wife sleeps with her husband's rival.“You were amazing Angel… you should win actress of the year” You gasped placing a hand on your heart, wiping away fake tears. “Thank you thank you everyone… I’d like to thank my amazing boyfriend-” “Shut up weirdo ” He laughed pushing you slightly. You laughed cuddling closer to him. “We should do that again” “Yeah but next time choose another name other than Samuel Black” “I thought it was clever” “You can’t name my fake husband by your English name and favorite color” “Well technically black isn’t a-” “Do not get technical with me Hyunjin” “Okay okay” He laughed putting his hands up in defense. “By the way, I liked you calling me your husband” “Well technically I was calling Samuel Black my husband” “Oh so only you could be technical but not me” “Correct” “Wow just wow” “Put a ring on my finger then I’ll call you my husband” “One-day baby one day” “Oh my God remember the old couple” “Mhm” “That’s gonna be us one day” “I was thinking the same thing” he smiled looking at the sparkle in your eyes. “I love you” “I love you more” you said. His hand began to rub your arm up and down, the sensation lulling you to sleep. “No I love you more” he whispered looking at you as you fell asleep. 

#hyunjin #skz imagines #stray kids fanfic #skz x you #skz fanfic #skz scenarios #hwang hyunjin smut

[writerpetals]

the assistant |🔞

; optional male lead smut |  ☁️

w; bodyguard!au, guns, shooting, blood... wrote this years ago inspired by a comic i used to read called executive assistant iris~

The sound of your heels click against the marble floor of the long hallway the two of you walk down. You glance over to the left at him just as he adjusts his tie and runs his hands over his black overcoat.

"Did you make sure to remember the contracts?" His sharp tone echoes against the walls.

"Yes sir." Clutching the papers in your arms tight against your chest, you answer with a confident, relaxed tone.

"Good. I don't know what I would do if you forgot them again." He sighs as you two step up to a locked, glass door. He reaches out and presses the button on the intercom that hangs on the wall. "I guess you'd probably have to find a new job. Maybe as a receptionist." An annoyed look spreads across his face while he waits for a reply. He is always good about staying in character. He never knows who is watching the two of you. It’s better to appear cold and distant so no one knows the true meaning of you accompanying him.

"Ah! One moment, let me buzz you in." A round, reddened face pops up on the screen before a loud click rings in your ears, letting you know the door is unlocked. He glares at you, then proceeds to enter the office waiting room with you following quickly behind. "So good to finally get you in here! And, uh, who's this?" The broad man walks over to shake his hand before eyeing you up down.

"My assistant." His eyes shoot over to you, then back to the man. “Don’t worry, Sir, she’s just here to assist in the deal. Get paperwork ready to be signed. Stuff like that.”

“Ah-“ He looks uneasy, eyes glancing between the two of you, but pushes the issue aside regardless. 

Smart for him, you think.

Soon the three of you make your way to his main office, immediately eyeing the two large men standing next to his chair as he takes a seat. You glance at at your boss, but he remains calm.

“And them?” He asks with a snarky smile, motioning at the stone faced men in black suits with their hands behind their backs. You aren’t sure if they are equipped, but you know you need to figure it out soon. The first rule to being his “secretary” is knowing your surroundings.

“You have your secretary, and I have my… uh… well, I have them.” Nonchalantly, the man sits in his well-cushioned office chair at the end of the long table.

“Isn’t it a little excessive?” he asks, brow raised.

“Please,” the man replies, smiling and pointing to the many empty seats around the table, “sit.” He nods, taking a seat next to the man after a moment, while you sit a few seats down, still eyeing the guards. They remain focused straight ahead, never looking at you, making you question what they are really there for. Your presence doesn’t faze them, and that worries you. An unease instantly settles in your stomach from the situation.

“So, about this deal…” he says, placing a pair of round frames on his face while opening a folder in front of him, “two million is about all I can do.”

“Two?!” Your boss once relaxed appearance shifts as he leans forward, eyes wide with surprise, or aggravation. Sometimes you can’t tell with him. “We agreed on three.”

“I know what we agreed on, but this is the best I can do.”

“Best you can do? I have a lot riding on this investment. I thought three million was the best you could do.”

“It’s two million, now.”

Suddenly, he slams a fist on the table at the ludicrous shift in the deal that’s been talked about for weeks. “Bullshit!” His outburst causes one of the guards to tense, his arm subtly shifting behind his back. You continue to watch that one in particular.

“Mr.-“

“We agreed on a number before I arrived. I already had my secretary write up the contracts. If you can’t do three million, then the deal is off.” He stares the man down, not giving in to anything less than what he knows he is worth and what he knows he’s capable of. You have always admired that about him.

“I was afraid you would say that…”

The guard suddenly begins to make his move at his boss’ words, as if on cue like a trigger, causing you to immediately stand and hike up your dress to pull the small firearm that has been concealed and strapped to your thigh.

“Get down!” You yell at your boss, watching out of the corner of your eye as he ducks beneath the table while you fire the first shot at one of the guards, hitting the target in his shoulder. Spinning around one of the chairs in front of you, you dip down to offer at least a little cover as their bullets begin to rain down on the two of you with loud pops echoing in the office. Peaking around the chair, your vision narrows before you fire another shot at the opposite guard, hitting him directly in the chest to hear him gasp. His body slumps to the floor, groaning in pain before his white shirt begins to seep with blood.

But before you can hide again, you feel a sudden jolt of pain in your arm, burning through your flesh in an instant. A bullet has grazed your skin, hindering you for a moment and nearly causing you to drop your weapon as you hit the floor with your knees. You quickly latch onto the wound with your other hand, seeing only red as you look down. The pain fights with your adrenaline to take over, but with one look at him hiding beneath the table, you know you still have a job to do.

Carefully, you peek out from the table, only to notice the remaining guard is not in his same spot. You are about to assume he snuck out with his boss, until a tight grip on your hair pulls you out from hiding. You spin around, now face to face with the guard as he smirks, thinking he has you. You are more capable than that, however, launching a low blow between his legs with your foot, causing him to double over in pain. The new position allows you to strike with a swift knee to his face, then a punch to the side of the head, right in his temple, to finally have him lying on the floor, almost unconscious.

“C’mon!” You order him as he crawls out from under the table. Swiftly, the two of you hurry out of the office and down the long, empty hallway, checking behind corners and open doors all the way. Oddly enough, it seems like the place has cleared out. “In here!” You motion for him to take the stairs at the end of the hall, not wanting to get trapped in an elevator, or have a group of men waiting the moment the doors open.

As you shuffle down the steps with him following behind, your vision begins to turn white, with a sudden ringing in your ears. You know you won’t last long, but you also know you have to get him to safety, even if it’s the last thing you do in your life. That’s what you signed up for. That’s your only purpose at the end of the day.

“We’re exiting the building now. Meet us in the parking garage.” You faintly hear him give orders over the phone, but it becomes so hard to focus. You continue to rush down the steps anyway, finally reaching the bottom floor before bursting into the parking garage. Luckily, there is his limo, eagerly waiting on him to make the getaway. You watch as he rushes to jump inside, but that is the last thing you see as your vision disappears completely before you collapse to the ground.

***

The sounds of people shuffling around you and muffled voices fill your ears, quietly at first, and then becoming louder each second. It sounds like two people having a discussion, but you can’t make it out before it grows silent again. Your eyes are too heavy to lift, and your body feels so weak and abused.

What happened? The last thing was… him, you try to remember, he was climbing into the car.

The previous events play in your mind like a bad movie, taking a step backwards each time until you remember everything. You went to a meeting with your boss. They turned on him when the deal went south. You got shot in the arm.

His name is barely audible on your lips when you call for him, but it is enough to be heard.

“Are you awake?” You hear his soft-spoken voice next to you. Your eyes flutter open, but everything remains blurry in the dim lighting. You see his outline, sitting next to you and looking down. “How are you feeling?” You blink, the image of him becoming sharper. He adorns a plain white t-shirt now. It doesn’t take you long to realize that not only are you in his penthouse, you’re in his bed.

“I-Uh-“ The words just won’t come out. You try to move, only to have an incredibly sharp pain bolt through your arm like lightning. A hiss escapes your mouth through clenched teeth as his hand rests on your other arm to keep you in place.

“Don’t move.” You don’t think you even could at that moment, even if you wanted to. “I had a favor called in for someone to come and stitch you up. I couldn’t explain what happened to you at any hospital. You’ll be okay, sore, but okay.” He smiles, caressing your arm in a nurturing way. It comforts you, which is odd, considering he isn’t the type to ever show affection in such ways. Well, at least not so casually, as if it comes naturally. “You saved my life today.”

“It’s… my job.” Your voice releases in a strained whisper. You want him to know you were only doing what you have been trained your whole life to do. Even as a little girl, you never had barbies to play with, only knives, and eventually guns. You never had friends considering emotions were put on the back burner in place of logic and reason. Until you grew up to protect one of the most wanted, richest criminals in the city. Protecting him at all costs is your only goal, no matter the situation or who is involved.

He sighs, looking down. “I know, and I knew it would eventually come to this. I should have known the deal was shady from the beginning. I owe you my life for what you did today.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” You prop yourself on your elbows, still feeling a little groggy from the pain medicine they must have pumped into you, but regaining your strength slowly. There remains an aching pain in your arm, but you push it aside. You notice the white bandage wrapped neatly around the wound, as well as you lying in his bed in only your bra now.

“There was a lot of blood,” he says, taking note of your questioning expression as to where your clothes have gone, “so I sent them downstairs to be cleaned.”

“Thanks.” Now sitting up, you notice the blinds are open on the large penthouse windows displaying the city lights beautifully from his room. It sure as hell beats the view from your run-down apartment. The smell, too, considering there’s a lavender vanilla candle lit on the nightstand. The aroma soothes you the moment you notice. 

“Things are going to get worse for me at this point,” he admits, lowering his head. “I’m going to need you by my side twenty-four seven once you get healed.”

You nod. “I understand.”

“Fucking bastard.” He balls up his fists, biting his lip and shaking his head in anger. “I trusted him. And he had the whole thing planned, knowing he would sneak out once he gave his guards the signal.” He is clearly hurt. You don’t blame him. It was a deal that took months to plan a new way to launder his dirty money, and he needed it to go perfectly. His truth was given too freely, maybe.

“I’ll make him pay for it. I’ll kill him.” He looks back at you after hearing your promise.

“Good.”

It still isn’t enough. You can tell it is eating away at him to be betrayed, and you know what to do. Just like all the nights before – when he is either stressed, or angry, or just wants you because he has no one else he wants to get close enough to – you will give yourself to him.

Hesitant at first, you lean toward his lips to place a soft kiss, not knowing how he will respond. Your hand pulls him closer by the neck, and his own snakes around your back, fingertips brushing against your bare skin.

Then, he pulls away, staring you straight in the eyes. “You don’t have to. You’re injured. You need to rest.”

“I want to.”

That is convincing enough, you realize as he presses his mouth to yours once more, this time sliding his tongue over your lips before you caress him with your own. Never breaking contact, he pushes the blanket covering you down to nuzzle between your legs. You nibble on his plump bottom lip that becomes hot and swollen as he roams your body with his hands for what seems like the hundredth time. His touch is nothing new to you.

“Hold on,” he says, pulling away before gripping the back of his shirt to pull it over his head. 

Soon he tugs on your panties to pull them from your hips, tossing them somewhere on the floor behind him and then reaching beneath you to unfasten your bra, now leaving you naked and nearly shivering from anticipation. You notice him smirk at the view while unbuttoning his jeans dangerously slow as he stares at you laying there, waiting for him with legs parted. Finally, he slides his pants down to his knees before pulling them off leg by leg along with his briefs. You can’t help but eye his erect cock while biting your lip. So hard and needy, just for you.

He hovers over you now, one hand on either side of your body as his head dips to place a kiss on your chest, then between your breasts, and all the way down your stomach. You arch your back, trying to get as close and as much as possible. He grips your hips, pushing them down on the bed as his face hovers right above your aching, wet center. His breath is on your skin, warming you up all over again.

For the first time, you feel his tongue between your thighs, between your soaked lips, sliding over your entrance and then playing with your clit. You gasp, back arching again from the sensation and the surprise. The mouth that was once pressed against yours is now pressed between your legs, passionately showing affection to your most delicate areas. Never has he felt the need to pleasure you in such a way, but he knows you are in pain from protecting him, and he wants to take your mind off of it.

So he continues licking you up with his tongue. Taking his time, he makes incredibly slow figure eights around your clit before diving down inside of you just to taste, only to come back up to flick or suck lightly on the sensitive bud. Your hips buck against his face and his name slips from your lips in desperate moans. You look down, making eye contact as your hands tangle in his hair. The way he looks at you while pleasuring you with his mouth is enough for you to come right then. Your legs tighten slightly as they begin to twitch against him.

“I… I’m gonna come...” you moan, continuing to roll yourself against his tongue, betraying your words. You don’t want to finish so fast, but he is enjoying pleasuring you too much. He grabs your hips harder, flicking his tongue faster back and forth over your clit before applying pressure with quick circles. The pressure builds inside of you, feeling him completely dominate you with his tongue. Your fingers tug his hair, pulling him closer even though your mind tells you to push him away. You are so close, right on the edge… until he abruptly pulls away, mouth glistening from you, but still smirking. The feeling of your approaching orgasm quickly fades, leaving you desperately wanting more.

Quickly, he positions himself between your legs once again, adjusting himself so the head of his cock toys with your entrance. You jerk, already too sensitive to be teased. Carefully, he enters with you a long, slow thrust, causing you to latch onto his sides, feeling his muscles contract beneath your fingers.

He falls into a steady rhythm of long strokes as you wrap your legs around him, wanting to feel all of him inside of you. His mouth comes down to place kisses against your neck, causing you to toss your head back. Whining his name again and again, the feeling of pressure building returns too quickly. You know you won’t last long, so you tug the hair on the back of his head gently to pull him away from your mouth, crashing your lips to his soon after. The kiss is deeper, more passionate, as he begins picking up speed, driving himself harder and deeper between your legs.

The pleasure overtakes your body, tightening your legs and walls around him as you twitch and tremble. With his steadily increasing pace, the feeling only intensifies, spreading like a fire in your body while pulling him closer toward you. You cry out in curses, but soon you grow quiet, the pleasure is so easy to give in to when it comes from him.

His breaths become short and ragged, knowing he is nearing his peak as well. With a few more pumps, groans, curses beneath his breath between telling you how good you feel when you come on his cock, how wet you are just for him, he spills his cum inside of you, pressing his forehead against yours while releasing the quietest of moans.

He soon pulls out to collapse in the spot next to you in his bed, trying to catch his breath as you do the same. The pain you were feeling is long forgotten, and now all you can think of is how incredible he can make you feel.

Without any words, he reaches for the blanket, pulling it above the two of you before tossing an arm over your torso to pull your back against his chest. And, for the second first between the two of you this night, you fall asleep next to him, wrapped in his embrace, with him giving you as much safety as you’ve given him. 

#bts smut #marvel smut #call of duty smut #twilight smut #harry potter smut #jungkook smut #loki smut #nct smut #got7 smut #monsta x smut #stray kids smut #harry styles smut #ghost smut #jimin smut #taehyung smut

[mysweetlixe]

Side Story : The Perfect Couple

Genre: Angst and Co-worker au

Words 2.7k

Masterlist

Summary: Y/N lands her dream job at a prestigious magazine company and quickly becomes enamored with her boss, Minho. Despite his marriage, there is a strong connection between them that leads to drama and deceit as they try to hide their feelings from everyone else.

Minho stood tall, his stature unmistakable as he surveyed the room. His presence seemed to fill every corner, a magnet that drew all eyes towards him. Perfectly styled black hair framed his face, held in place by some unseen force as if not even a gust of wind could dare disturb it. But it was his smile that truly captivated those around him. A slow, knowing grin that seemed to say he had a secret – one that only the select few were privy to. And everyone wanted to be among that chosen circle.

As the boss of the company, Minho's air of confidence was well-earned. He strode through the sleek, modern office building with purpose, his polished black shoes clicking rhythmically on the pristine marble floor. The walls were adorned with abstract art, each piece carefully chosen to reflect the cutting-edge innovation that drove the organization. Employees paused in their work, glancing up from their screens as their leader approached. Some offered nervous smiles, others simply a nod of acknowledgment, but all were eager to catch even the briefest moment of Minho's attention.

"Morning, Rachel," Minho said, pausing for a moment beside the desk of one of his project managers. The woman beamed at him, her cheeks flushing pink with pleasure at being addressed by name. "How's the Henderson account coming along?"

"Ah, we're making good progress, sir," she replied, her voice wavering slightly under the weight of his gaze. "We should have their proposal finalized by the end of the day."

"Excellent," Minho responded, his smile widening as he gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Keep up the good work." With a final nod, he continued on his way, leaving behind a trail of murmured conversations and stolen glances.

It was these small interactions that cemented Minho's reputation as both a charismatic leader and someone who genuinely cared for his employees. He knew their names, their projects, and even the names of their pets – a skill that only endeared him more to those who worked under him.

As Minho made his way through the office, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in what he had built. This company was not just a testament to his own hard work and determination, but also to the efforts of every single person who walked through its doors each day. They were a team, united by a shared passion for creating something truly exceptional. And as their leader, Minho was determined to see them succeed – no matter what challenges lay ahead.

Minho's keen eyes scanned the room, taking in the focused faces of his team as they worked diligently on their latest project. He approached one of his senior designers, who was hunched over her desk, furiously sketching out a new concept.

"Michelle," Minho said softly, leaning in to examine her work more closely. "I like where you're going with this, but consider incorporating some softer lines here," he gestured at the sketch, "to create a more inviting atmosphere."

"Of course, Mr. Kim," she replied, nodding eagerly and jotting down his suggestion. "Thank you for your guidance."

As Minho moved through the office, he continued to offer his insights, careful not to dictate but to inspire creativity and collaboration among his colleagues. It was clear that his passion for their work was contagious, as each person he spoke with seemed to gain a renewed sense of purpose and determination.

"Remember," he told them all in a firm yet encouraging tone, "we're working together to create something truly groundbreaking. Let's push ourselves and our ideas to the limit."

Just then, the double doors at the entrance swung open, and a gust of cold air swept through the room. In strode Amber, Minho's wife, her heels clicking sharply against the polished marble floor. Her tailored suit clung flawlessly to her slender frame, and her dark hair was pulled back into a tight, elegant bun. Her piercing blue eyes seemed to cut through the warm atmosphere of the office like a knife.

"Amber," Minho greeted her, a practiced smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He could feel the sudden shift in the room, the way his employees stiffened at her presence.

"Minho," she replied icily, barely acknowledging him as she surveyed the room with an air of disapproval. The temperature of the room seemed to drop several degrees, and Minho couldn't help but notice the way his colleagues seemed to shrink under her cold gaze.

For a moment, Minho's thoughts betrayed him. He felt the weight of his carefully constructed facade starting to crumble, and he longed for the warmth and connection he shared with his team – a stark contrast to the chill that seemed to emanate from Amber. But he quickly brushed aside these thoughts, knowing that now was not the time for vulnerability.

"Everyone," Minho announced, drawing himself up to his full height and regaining control of the room, "please give a warm welcome to my wife, Amber." His voice held a note of authority, and he smiled reassuringly at his employees as they greeted her with polite smiles and nods.

"Thank you all for your hard work today," he continued, his eyes flickering briefly to Amber before returning to his colleagues. "I have no doubt we'll achieve something extraordinary together."

As the room buzzed with renewed energy, Minho couldn't help but feel a pang of longing deep within him. He knew that, for now, he must maintain the appearance of the perfect husband and boss. But as he watched Amber stride through the office, leaving a trail of unease in her wake, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to life than this perfectly polished facade.

Amber's voice cut through the hum of productivity like a razor-sharp icicle, her cold eyes fixed on one unfortunate employee. "Is that all you've managed to accomplish today?" she sneered, her gaze flicking dismissively over their trembling hands clutching a report. The employee's face turned scarlet as they stuttered an explanation, but Amber simply waved them off with a condescending smirk. Minho winced inwardly, wishing he could offer some comfort to his team while maintaining the facade of the perfect husband.

"Come along, dear," Amber called imperiously, striding toward the exit with her designer heels clicking against the polished floor. Minho followed, forcing a smile and exchanging apologetic glances with his colleagues as he passed.

Later that evening, Minho and Amber stood side by side at a high-profile event, dressed to the nines and exuding an air of effortless glamour. As flashes from cameras lit up their faces, Minho slid his arm around Amber's waist, pulling her close and offering his most dazzling smile to the press. Amber reciprocated with a practiced grin of her own, her piercing eyes momentarily softened by the illusion of marital bliss.

"Look at us," she whispered into Minho's ear, her breath warm against his skin. "We're the picture of perfection." He resisted the urge to pull away, reminding himself that this was just another performance in their carefully choreographed routine.

Inside, though, Minho couldn't help but feel a gnawing emptiness. Here they were, surrounded by the glitterati, putting on a show for the world to see while the cracks in their marriage remained expertly concealed. He longed for a genuine connection, a loving partnership where he could be truly seen and understood. But for now, he played his part, his heart aching with each click of the camera shutter.

As the night wore on, Minho's mind drifted back to the office and the dedicated team who looked up to him for guidance. He found solace in their shared passion for their work, a stark contrast to Amber's cruel jabs and icy demeanor. Yet he knew that at home, behind closed doors, he would have to continue his role as the doting husband, even if it meant stifling his own desires for something more.

"Smile, darling," Amber murmured, her lips brushing against his cheek as they posed for yet another photograph. Minho forced himself to comply, his thoughts tinged with regret and longing, trapped in a gilded cage of their own making.

The sun had begun to set, casting a warm glow over the city skyline as Minho and Amber attended yet another charity gala. The buzz of conversation from the well-dressed crowd filled the elegant ballroom, while glasses clinked and laughter rang out in the air. Amidst it all, Minho's arm was securely wrapped around Amber's waist, their smiles bright and unwavering as they mingled with the other attendees.

"Minho, darling, don't let go of me," Amber whispered into his ear, her breath hot against his skin. He could feel her nails digging into his forearm, a subtle reminder of her grip on him. Minho nodded, maintaining his smile as they exchanged pleasantries with a prominent business magnate.

As the conversation lulled, Minho's eyes wandered to a nearby couple who were lost in each other's gaze, their love for one another evident in their tender touches and soft smiles. His heart constricted at the sight, a twinge of envy clouding his thoughts. When he glanced back at Amber, she was focused intently on something across the room, her eyes narrowed and calculating.

"Excuse me for a moment," she said abruptly, squeezing Minho's hand before releasing it and walking away. Minho watched her go, his relief at having a brief respite quickly overshadowed by a sense of unease. It was in these moments – when they were apart, no longer under the watchful eyes of the world – that the façade began to crumble, revealing the fissures in their seemingly perfect marriage.

"Are you alright?" A colleague asked, drawing Minho's attention back to the present. He forced a smile, nodding as he pushed his private concerns to the back of his mind.

"Of course," he replied, offering a reassuring pat on the man's shoulder. "Just a bit tired, that's all."

As the night wore on, Minho couldn't help but steal glances at Amber from across the room. He observed her cold, piercing gaze as she conversed with others, the way she subtly belittled their achievements with a flick of her wrist or a dismissive laugh. It was a stark reminder of who she truly was – and by extension, the life he had chosen for himself.

When their eyes met, he saw her smile falter for the briefest of moments, a fleeting crack in their carefully constructed image. And within that split second, Minho's true feelings about his marriage were laid bare: a mix of resignation and sadness, a longing for something more meaningful than what they had become. But as quickly as it had appeared, the moment vanished, replaced once more by the mask of perfection they both wore so well.

"Time to go," Amber said tersely as she rejoined him, her fingers gripping his arm tightly. Minho nodded, offering her a forced smile before turning to bid their farewells. As they exited the ballroom, hand in hand, he couldn't help but wonder how much longer they could keep up this charade – and at what cost to his own happiness.

The sun cast a warm, golden light on Minho's face as he stood at the window of his office, gazing out at the bustling city below. His reflection in the glass showed a confident and content man, his captivating smile beaming with ease. But beneath the surface of that smile, there was an undercurrent of yearning – a desire for a connection he didn't have with Amber. As he continued to stare at the world outside, his thoughts drifted towards the emptiness he felt within.

"Minho, you're needed in the conference room," a voice interrupted, snapping him back to reality. He turned to find his assistant standing in the doorway, her expression professional yet concerned.

"Of course," he replied, the facade of happiness returning to his face as if it had never left. "Let's not keep them waiting."

As Minho strode confidently through the sleek, modern hallways of his company, he couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging and purpose. Here, surrounded by his dedicated team, he found solace in the challenges and accomplishments of their work. The office hummed with energy and ambition, and as he entered the conference room, he knew that this was where he could escape the troubles of his marriage – even if just for a little while.

"Alright, everyone," he began, taking his place at the head of the table. The room fell silent, all eyes on him. "We've got a lot to cover today, so let's get right to it."

Over the next several hours, Minho threw himself into his job with unrelenting determination. He guided his team through complex discussions, offered constructive feedback, and inspired them with his unwavering passion for their work. It was as if the weight of his troubled marriage seemed to evaporate, replaced by the drive to lead his company to success.

"Great work today, everyone," he praised, as the meeting came to a close. "We're making steady progress, and I have no doubt that we'll achieve our goals."

"Thank you, Minho," one of his colleagues chimed in earnestly. "Your leadership truly makes a difference."

With a nod of acknowledgment and a genuine smile, Minho left the room, feeling a sense of fulfillment that was all too rare in his personal life. As he returned to his office, a fleeting thought crossed his mind: if only he could find the same satisfaction in his marriage as he did in his work.

But as quickly as it had come, the thought vanished, replaced by the cold reality of the life he had chosen for himself. He knew that, for now, he must continue to wear the mask of contentment, even as his heart longed for something more. For there were still challenges to face, both at work and at home – and Minho would not be defeated.

Minho stood by the window of his office, his composed expression hiding the storm brewing within him. As he gazed out at the bustling city, he took a deep breath, steadying himself for the day ahead. His professional life was filled with successes and triumphs – a stark contrast to his personal life, marred by the unhappiness that seemed to cloud his marriage.

"Morning, Minho," greeted Jessica, his assistant, as she entered the room with a stack of documents. "The reports you asked for are ready."

"Thank you, Jessica," Minho replied, his voice steady and calm. He took the papers from her, flipping through them with a practiced eye. Despite the turmoil in his heart, he maintained an air of professionalism that impressed even himself.

"Is there anything else you need right now?" Jessica asked, watching him closely. She could sense that something was off, but couldn't quite figure out what it was.

"No, I'm good for now," Minho reassured her, offering a small smile. As Jessica nodded and left the room, he turned his attention back to the reports, immersing himself in the world of numbers and figures – anything to keep his mind from wandering down the dark path of his troubled marriage.

Hours later, having spent the day diligently working, Minho leaned back in his chair and sighed, feeling the weight of his responsibilities pressing down upon him. But as he glanced at the framed photo on his desk – a picture of him and Amber smiling at some event, their arms wrapped around each other – he couldn't help but wonder about the facade they both wore so well. How long could it last before the cracks finally began to show?

At that moment, his phone buzzed with a text message. It was from Amber: "I'll be home late tonight. Don't wait up." Minho's jaw tightened, his eyes lingering on the cold, impersonal words. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to their marriage than met the eye – that beneath the surface of their seemingly perfect life, something darker lurked.

As Minho left the office that evening, his thoughts consumed by the uncertainty of his future with Amber, he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of foreboding. For now, he would continue to compartmentalize his personal and professional lives, maintaining the facade as best he could. But deep down, he knew that the truth was bound to come out eventually – and when it did, it would change everything.

#stray kids x reader #stray kids imagine #lee know x reader #minho x reader #minho imagines #stray kids imagines #lee know imagine #lee know #minho #skz imagine #skz fluff #skz angst #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz minho

[btshoseong]

Hi cutie 🩷

I don't know if you were looking for these kind of questions but I was wondering how Hoseong's apartment looks like 🤔

👣. !!: HIS APARTMENT ‧₊˚

↺ 💌 ࣪ ˖ ∿ author’s note , @ omg hi hi!! this is actually a very good question so thank you for asking 🫶🏼 i had a lotta fun digging through pinterest to see what fits seongie’s vibe

⊂ HIS ✶ LIVING ROOM ⊃

okay okay so his living room is all around a very marbled white colour/aesthetic with a nice balance of greys and is definitely the largest room in his apartment

and ofc with a spacious living room comes all kinds of crazy and interesting decor pieces to add that touch of what truly screams hoseong, usually he likes things such as bearbricks

he also tends to prefer minimalistic lighting within his home, especially in regards to his living room, so he mainly uses a lot of natural light that comes in through the windows

⊂ HIS ✶ KITCHEN ⊃

when it comes to his kitchen you will NEVER!! and i mean never see it cluttered or disorganised with things like dishes that haven’t been washed or random items lying around

he has tiny racks ( example on the left ) for basically all of his everyday essentials when it comes to food so spices, eggs, measuring cups etc which he even uses stickers to label

another thing about hoseong is that he’s most certainly 1/2 of bangtan’s laundry fairies alongside jeongguk, like he gets a literal ick if he misses his scheduled laundry days lmao

⊂ HIS ✶ BEDROOM ⊃

okay so his bedroom is honestly where the real craze begins bc not only has he got stuff that he likes lying around, but also that of his maknae babies who like to come over often

it’s actually the main reason for his starry lights ( on the right ) since jeongguk finds it really comforting and seongie wants to make the boy feel more at home

and yes he doesn’t have an actual frame for his mattress, he just has it lying on the floor on top of a nice carpet lmao like literally 70% of jeongguk’s home is inspired by this man

⊂ HIS ✶ BATHROOM ⊃

when it comes to hoseong’s bathroom, it might actually be his smallest room within the apartment since he thought it unnecessary to splurge and make it more spacious

but he is lowkey considering getting a bathtub built in for his more relaxed nights bc well… who doesn’t love a good bubble bath every now and again?

he also decorated the room with nice plants and vines hanging in certain sections such as the frames of the mirror and the shower head, and has his cute little storage racks too

⊂ HIS ✶ CLOSET ⊃

for his clothes, he has a walk-in closet due to his expansive taste in outfits + he’s a fashionista so a small wardrobe couldn’t be a worser nightmare for the man

he has his wardrobe sectioned off ( example in first image ), where he keeps his clothes on hangers, his shoes on the very top shelf and his accessories in drawers to maintain order

and of course he can’t go without a nice vanity mirror by the chairs ( ik it’s not in the image but ygm ), which is where he gets all of his makeup and skin care routines completed too

⊂ HIS ✶ GYM ⊃

and finally we come down to the one and only, mr park hoseong’s beloved homemade gym!! probably his most favourite room within the apartment but are we surprised lol

other than his immense love for working out, he actually decided to have a gym for his home bc he liked the privacy + it means less travel

he has almost every equipment imaginable, attracting a lot of the other members to come join him at his home, meaning… a continuous stream of biweekly gym selcas for army!

💬 — HOSEONG’S TAGLIST.

@pandorasword , @ateezsora , @bts-dream , @fairiepoems , @kaitieskidmore97

#( 🩻 ) ───── hoseong’s basics ! #bts 8th member #bts 8th male member #kpop added member #kpop added male member #kpop addition #kpop male addition #kpop additional member #kpop additional male member #bts additional member #bts additional male member #bts added member #bts added male member #kpop member au #kpop male member au #kpop oc #kpop male oc #bts oc #bts male oc #bts addition #bts male addition

[capricornrisingsstuff]

I’m like a lawyer with the way I’m always trying to get you off

lawyer!eddie x fem reader

Thank you once again to @oneforthemunny for sparking this lil idea of mine.

If I get enough inspiration I may build up on this in separate drabbles lol

Contains: MNDI, adult language, fluff, kissing, dom/sub dynamics, Eddie being a legal version of his mafia!eddie persona, there’s also beef with Jason Carver. Younger!reader and older!eddie, use of pet names. Mentions of parental death. Fem reader. Reader is 25, Eddie is 40.

Prompt: Eddie is the most cutthroat lawyer in town, you are the court stenographer. Eddie is in the process of getting Jason Carver thrown into prison for embezzlement but…Jason is your uncle (yikes). Will family loyalty overthrow your adoration for Eddie’s flair for the dramatic (and his baby cow eyes)?

Hawkins Indiana County Court

As your heels, fresh from the summer Starcourt annual sale, click-clacked along the marble floor of the courtroom, you let out a huff of frustration. Your files and binders heavy in your arms, an amount of spare paper only authors could dream of, being dragged by your side in your carry case, you were desperate to impress. You didn’t forego nice manicures or acrylic nails for nothing; not to mention the gruelling unpaid internships in legal firms across Hawkins and the insufferable “legal eagles” who looked at you like you were the freshest piece of meat dropped into the enclosure. You were here to make an impression, you were here to win and you were here to be the best court stenographer Hawkins Indiana County Court had ever witnessed.

One small problem stood in your way of conquering today-scratch that, make it one small problem and one rather big problem; your uncle was up in court today for embezzlement and you were the only stenographer without a case today, therefore you were assigned it. The big problem, came in the form of a messy bun, big brown eyes and a dazzling grin…that of Edward “Eddie” Munson. “Don’t even think about him, don’t even think about him, don’t even think abou-“ your internal mantra was broken by a wall of Armani fine tailoring, Versace cologne and an Italian leather briefcase, making you stagger to the side on your heels. “Whoa there Bambi, can’t go down on the ice while you’re not even ahead yet can you?”. You glanced down at the hand gripping your arm-fine silver rings with intricate details on every finger.

“I can assure you Mr Munson, I’m f-fine”, you stuttered as you pulled yourself up and gained composure. “Well well well, the youngest of the Carver bloodline…are you preparing to watch your uncle make like the Romans and fail miserably in the ring of justice?” he mused, while he checked his Rolex watch. “Speaking of darlin’ ten minutes and the show starts. You go ahead of me so we aren’t seen walking in together” (and so I can watch that peachy ass of yours sway in that illegally tight pencil skirt he thought), as you made your way to your position in the courtroom.

As the witnesses, the jury and the judges piled in, you tried to suppress your emotions as your uncle was brought into the courtroom in handcuffs. Jason Carver had always been good to you and your mother, particularly when your dad passed away. He single handedly solved your mortgage problems, there was a new car on the drive and your bank account was healthy enough for you to take on your internships. Everything was above board…apart from the government and industry documents found in his safe when his home was raided on the embezzlement suspicion. And now all you can do is sit and watch (or rather type) as his reputation went down the drain in one fell swoop of the theatrics of the prosecution-Eddie. Eddie Munson, Jason’s high school tormentee. How this must taste so sweet to him, you thought as you settled behind your keyboard.

You don’t even know how you made it through the trial being able to see through the line of tears that threatened to spill onto your keyboard. Years of pent up aggression, hate and disdain all came out in Eddie’s defence. He didn’t leave Jason the lickings of a dog; it was as if he was moderating one of those dungeon games he was famous for back in high school. He was even making the jury wince at the cutthroat facts he was spitting about the case. Unfortunately, you found yourself typing the words *jason carver* *I sentence you to* *15 years in prison with right to parole*. You allowed yourself one last look at your uncle as he was lead back to his cell; your eyes meeting with the theatrical professional that is Eddie, standing behind him. In a last ditch attempt to retain your composure, you haphazardly gathered up your things.

As you glanced up, Eddie was gone. Your shoulders slumped with relief as you made your way out of the courtroom, you were the only one left in the room so decided to be leisurely about your pace, rather than hastily like earlier. Rounding the corner to the executive legal offices where your reports are filed and sent off for printing, the door marked “E.Munson Esq.” in gold lettering swung open. You didn’t even get a chance to breathe with the speed at which you were dragged into the room. “M-Mr M-Munson wha-“ you stammered as you heard the brass lock of the door click shut and your knees met the edge of the leather bound desk. “M-M-Mr Munson”, Eddie mocked, mirroring the pout that was on your face as he caged you in to the side or his desk with his arms either side of you. “Darlin’”, he drawled, as the palm of his hand ran it’s way up your skirt and along your thighs, “I just wanted to apologise. For putting Bambi’s uncle away for a really long time”, he whispered, as he leaned into you more, causing you to part your legs instinctively to make room for him.

“Are you scared honey? Are you sad that your uncle has gone away and left you? You’ll have to earn your own money now sweetheart won’t you?” He cooed as his fingers trailed their way along the crook of your neck. “I-I make my own money tha-thank you very much”, you tried to sound confident but the touch of his fingers only brought out a whine from you. “Hmmm well in my courtroom Bambi, the judge disagrees with that evidence…if you want to get off for free, with riches and privileges, I can be the one to set you that retainer”, he muttered as his lips softly met your neck. “In the eyes of my law Bambi, you’re mine. And you’re in for a very very long stint of being in handcuffs and wet panties”.

#eddie munson one shot #eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie fanfic #eddie x reader #lawyer!eddie #oneforthemunny

[bluestar22x]

Mr. Henley

The Rockford Files - Mr. Henley

Summary: A rich man is murdered and you and Tim must figure out which of his family members poisoned him.

Pairing: Tim Rockford x F!Reader (both in their mid/late 40s)

Rating: 18+ Series

Word Count: 13,800 (ish)

Warnings: Smut (w/no protection), violence, a very angry ghost, inaccurate detective work, medical examiner gore, fictionally speedy DNA results, and a mention of euthanizing a pet (cat).

Author's Note: This part was a long time coming - I almost didn't finish it in October. Ack! But it was worth it. I think I'm happy with the results. This has some inspiration from the Merge Mansion ads. I'm not sorry. Also, it seems 2nd parts are for smut in my little writing world. I have a pattern. ha

xxx

October 10, 1996 (Thursday)

You felt like you were being driven straight into a horror movie setting. An early morning fog encroaching on the long, deserted winding road that led to a Victorian styled gate with golden decals. Tim stopped his car at the front and you noted the number twenty-six that was painted onto one of the stone walls the gate was attached to. You were at the right address. You just weren't sure that you wanted to be.

Tim slid out of the driver's side, leaving his door open as he approached the gate with the key he'd been handed earlier by Chief Bronson, opening it up and letting the gate swing widely inward on its own.

When he climbed back into the car you began tapping your fingers on your knees, unsure of what you’d soon be walking into.

It didn't take long for the sparsely colorful forest surrounding the driveway to clear into a neatly maintained lawn lined with pink rosebushes, spread out before a massive white mansion that looked as old as the gate, although they likely hadn't been built earlier than a half a century ago.

Rich people, you thought to yourself, rolling your eyes at the obvious choice the owners had made to flaunt their money. Nobody in American history who had owned such a home had ever actually needed over thirty rooms to themselves. Most people who'd had twenty plus children couldn't afford a mansion.

"We have an hour before we have to be back at the department to question the family," Tim reminded you after parking the car, as if you needed to be.

You just nodded at him. A year ago you would've rolled your eyes, thinking he was being impatient, trying to rush you, but you'd learned with time he just worried about being late. He was a reliable person. If he could help it, he was always on time. You couldn't say the same, and you'd butted heads with him more than once over it, but eventually you'd both decided it wasn't worth it.

He fixed the position of the dark rimmed glasses that rested over the bridge of his nose (a recent addition to his attire, much to his dismay) and followed you as you strolled up the marble steps leading to the heavy looking white front door. After he used another key to unlock it you shoved the door open and stepped inside.

You didn't know enough about mansions and fancy furniture, but you knew enough to know that everything inside was mind boggling expensive. The trims were definitely made from real gold. The living room was the size of your whole apartment.

And everything was spotless - except for the dining room you headed straight for like a woman on a mission. Even though it was just you and Tim in the house, at the moment, you didn't want to give the mansion's owner the satisfaction of you having gawked at the place.

The only sign something had gone wrong in the dining room was the yellow tape and the bowl of cereal that was still, disgustingly, out on the glass table, half full of soaked flakes and rotting milk. The stench made you block your nose.

At least the body had already been picked up by Joe while the rest of the Forensics team had scoured the mansion. And the man had been found fairly quickly after his death, so the room didn't also smell like rotting flesh. You always tried to look at the bright side of things.

"I see Elliot Henley was a Frosted Flakes kind of guy," you observed humorously. "It's kind of comforting that corn flakes could potentially unite the rich and poor."

Tim snorted quietly at that, amusement sparking in his normally serious eyes. You beamed back at him. You'd taken a liking to trying to make him laugh with you rather than at your expense, like it had been at first. You were getting better at it.

"You getting any vibes, Psy?"

Where once that nickname had been at your expense, it had long since turned friendly, and in turn, you'd grown fond of it. Only from him though.

"Nothing yet," you replied with a sigh, "I'm not even creeped out by the knowledge that a dead man was sitting at this table at eight o'clock last night, face planted right on the table alongside this very bowl."

Tim arched his eyebrows, surprised. "That once bothered you?"

"It still bothers me often enough," you admitted. "I got this job because of my gift, not because of my tolerance for being around dead bodies. You?"

He shrugged. "It got better with time. It's rare a case really shakes me up."

You know exactly what kind of case shakes him up after Annie. Anything with kids. For most people in their field of work, that was the line, but it was especially true for him.

You hadn't asked Tim about his sister. You didn't need to. Helen had given you more than enough information and it wasn't your business. He was your partner, a friend, you might even dare say, but your relationship was very professional and that meant you didn't get to be nosy.

"I'm going to take a walk through the whole place, alone," you decided, "Just in case he's shy. But it's quite possible Elliot's already moved on. Even if our suspicions turn out right, that he didn't just die of a stroke or heart attack, that doesn't mean he'd linger. You know how it goes."

Tim gave you a quick nod. After working over two dozen cases with you he did know enough of how things worked, or at least how you believed things worked, since you'd yet to convince him your mind wasn't conjuring up these spirits.

Stubborn man.

He left to stand by the main entrance while you wandered room to room, trying to keep your mind focused solely on your surroundings, without paying too much attention to how absurdly "classy" everything was.

You walked the east wing first, finding Elliot's mother's room at the far end. Everything was so white it was near blinding. It felt too clean. Unlived in, except for the hairbrush with silver hair intertwined in the bristles that lay on the desk in the corner of the room next to a big bay window.

You wondered if the room had always been this way or if it had only become so sterile after her husband had died.

You concluded that it probably had always been that way when you searched the west wing and found Elliot's room to be in a similar shape, and the same for his older brother's.

Like many rich kids who hadn't worked a day of their youth away because of their parents' wealth, Elliot and Richard Henley had stuck around after they graduated high school, even into their late thirties.

It was interesting to you that Hazel, their mother, had them stay in a separate wing. For privacy or because she couldn't stand them? Either option was likely. Maybe it was for both reasons.

It took you a half hour to thoroughly check each room and give time for any presence to make themselves known, but none did, and with a long sigh you headed down the hall to return to Tim's side.

He was leaning against the door, arms folded, clearly trying to be patient, but still appearing annoyed. When he spotted you moving towards him he grunted. "Took you long enough."

"There's a lot of rooms," you said defensively.

He dropped his arms to his sides. "Please tell me you at least got something."

You shook your head apologetically and he groaned. "Great. So, this was a bust."

"Mostly, yeah," you agreed. "But I did find out that Hazel sleeps as far away from her sons' rooms as possible."

"They probably partied late into the night," Tim guessed.

It was as good of a guess as yours, but for some reason your intuition was screaming at you that there was something more to it, and in your experience it was wise not to ignore it. You'd definitely have some questions to ask the family when you got back to the police department.

Tim gestured to the door and you both stepped outside together, back onto the porch. As he locked the door again, a gust of wind ripped through the sheltered area and you shivered. It could have been just from the cold weather, but normal wind didn't usually make your skin crawl.

You glanced around warily and Tim noticed. His eyes filled with concern at your discomfort. "You sense something now?"

"That gust didn't feel right," you informed him, wrapping your arms around yourself for warmth and a sense of security. "Too cold for the season." You snuggled your nose into the wool jacket you were wearing.

His eyebrows furrowed at that. "What does that mean to you?"

"If Elliot's spirit caused that sudden gust of wind," you hesitated, not wanting it to be so, "Which I'm almost certain of, he's furious at something. Probably someone. Not necessarily who killed him. I've had several cases where the spirit was upset about something that happened right before they were murdered, since sometimes they aren't aware enough to remember what happened to them." You bit your lip. "Angry spirits aren't discriminatory. They want to lash out, get revenge, and it doesn't matter who's on the other end of their fury, as long as they are affected. Not everyone is, but sensitives like me are."

"You've been hurt by spirits before?" The lines between Tim's brows deepened. You wondered how much of it was from disbelief and how much was from genuine concern, but the fact there was concern at all was nice.

"No, I haven't had a spirit hurt me physically," you answered. "But they're great at causing nightmares and I had one purposely spook me into stumbling backwards. I was at the top of a flight of stairs."

You could've sworn a flicker of fear flashed in his eyes in reaction to what you'd disclosed, but it was gone in the blink of an eye. "Let's get you out of here then."

You didn't need to be told twice.

x

The first stop you and Rockford made after returning to the department was the Forensics Division to check for updates. You sought out Joe, finding him in the basement examining Elliot's body.

It was your first time seeing Mr. Henley outside the few family photos that had been scattered about in the mansion, and it was unsettling. It wasn't the first time you'd walked in on an autopsy, but it was the first time you'd seen a brain outside a body, in the gloved hands of the medical examiner. Your stomach did a little flip at the sight, and you tried to keep your eyes from directly looking at it and Elliot's open skull after.

"Got anything for us, Joe?" Tim inquired.

The rail thin man continued his study of Elliot's brain while he spoke. "I've got enough. Elliot here had a cardiac event. Some of his heart valves are damaged. But it wasn't natural. And my conclusion has nothing to do with him being thirty-five. Look at this."

Joe placed Elliot's brain back into his head and pointed out some dark pigmentation scattered on his skin and under his nails. "Hyperpigmentation." He pulled out a kidney that was sliced in half. Even for one that belonged to a deceased person it didn't look too healthy. "Renal damage. Any guesses as to what happened to him?"

You frowned as you pondered over it. A lot of things could cause these symptoms. But there were few that would make Joe behave this way. "Poison," you said in unison with Tim. You both glanced at each other. "Jinx," you declared, chuckling. He grunted.

"Arsenic to be exact," Joe told you, theatrically gesturing to his desktop computer in the corner of the room. "The blood results were positive for it. The hair samples are still being studied to figure out when the poisoning began, but by the evidence it seems it has been a long while."

"Arsenic is natural though," Tim pointed out. "He could have ingested too much of it by mistake through drinking water or food."

"Ah." Joe nodded. "Yes. But a very high dose was in the milk sample we took from his bowl this morning. That's not typical of pasteurized, grade A milk. Guessing he wasn't dying fast enough for whoever was adding it to his diet so they threw caution to the wind. Funny enough though, the high dose wasn't in him long enough to be the reason his heart failed. That was from the previous attempts stacking up."

"Please tell me someone's on their way to pick up that bowl before someone else gets dosed by accident," you said, though you were certain no one would dare eat from that disgusting bowl.

"Katie's on her way to rectify our mistake of leaving it behind," Joe assured you.

"Do you know if he sought out any medical attention?" Tim asked.

"I called the local hospital," Joe stated, "His primary care doctor works there, but hasn't seen him in two years and he hasn't shown up in the Emergency Room ever. I have no doubt he was suffering for weeks from this, but for whatever reason he never went to the hospital. Maybe he had nosocomephobia?" He shrugged.

"What's that?" you questioned, squinting at him in confusion.

"It's an intense fear of going to the hospital," Tim informed you. "My great tia Lucia had that phobia. She broke a hip one time, fully separated it. Despite the pain, she insisted it couldn't be broken even as she tried and failed to stand over and over. My grandmother was with her at the time."

"That's awful," you remarked, mouth agape. You'd never broken anything before, but you knew hip fractures were one of the worst breaks a person could have. She should have been seized up with pain.

"Fear is pain's greatest competitor," Joe told you solemnly.

Tim tilted his head in his direction.

"So, who do we think did it?" you quizzed. "It must be someone in the family, right?"

"Usually is," Tim replied. "Hazel would be most likely."

"Isn't their mother like eighty?"

"Seventy-eight," Tim corrected you. "And it doesn't take a body builder to kill someone by poison. You should know murderers come in all shapes and sizes and ages."

"Of course." And it wouldn't be the first time you'd helped investigate a murder where the mother killed their child.

"Anything else?" Tim asked Joe.

Joe shook his head. "I'll let you know if there's anything else useful to you as the results come in."

"Time for the interrogations then," you figured.

Tim was already halfway out the door.

x

Upon your arrival at the Homicide Division, Pete Woodward, a young, eager homicide detective-in-training approached you and Tim. Practically flew at you, really. "We've got Hazel and Richard Henley in separate interrogation rooms, ready to talk with you, Rockford. Victim's sisters will be in at noon."

Having lived in the same home, being family, Hazel and Richard were the priority to talk to. They'd been brought in as soon as the investigation had begun, though not officially arrested since there wasn't any solid proof either one of them had motive to kill Elliot yet.

You followed Tim into the first room finding Richard standing inside in a corner, looking bored out of your mind. You wouldn't have expected that from a man that had just lost his brother. Maybe suspect number two was actually the murderer?

"You want to take a seat Mr. Henley?" Tim inquired, gesturing at the gray chair across from yours and his as you both sat down.

"Call me Dick," Richard told him, plopping down on it.

"Really?" You couldn't help the slipped comment. You just didn't understand why anyone would be willing to take on that nickname, especially as a rich person. Did he not notice the possible implications of using it?

Richard either didn't hear you or didn't care; either way he paid you no attention. Tim's eyes however did dart to you for a second before he cleared his throat. "This conversation is going to be recorded, Dick. Is that alright?"

"Whatever you must do, detective. I've got nothing to hide."

Tim pressed record on the voice recorder to his left. "What can you tell us about your brother?"

Richard snorted. "Besides him being a hopeless lazy leech?"

"Aren't you also living with your mother?" you countered.

"I work," Richard informed you defensively, "I only moved back in because I recently got divorced and my new home hasn't been finished yet."

"Uh huh." You'd barely started talking with him and you were already starting to lean more towards him as Elliot's killer than their mother. He had clearly held disdain for his younger brother. That was a pretty good motive.

"Did your brother have any enemies?" Tim questioned.

Richard shrugged. "None that I know of, except his own damn self. He was a loner, mostly. Spent a lot of time online playing games."

"Do we dare ask you how he was with your family, with you?" you inquired.

He chuckled and leaned back. "He was Dad's favorite when he was alive, for some damn reason. Mom loves him out of duty. Our sisters and him get along fine but they don't hang out."

"And you and him?"

"I don't like him not putting in any effort to make his own life," Richard told you, eyes narrowing, "But I wasn't upset enough over it to kill him, if that's what you're wondering."

"We have to consider every possibility," Tim explained to him. "Murders often are committed by those closest to the victim."

"So it is murder?" Richard asked, pursing his lips. "You sound certain."

"We've got evidence that suggests Elliot was slowly poisoned with Arsenic," Tim replied, "Found some in his bowl of cereal."

Richard's eyes widened. "Shit."

"Who normally fed him his meals?" you prompted.

He frowned. "He usually made his own cereal whenever he chose to eat later at night."

"Was he the only one in the house who drank two percent milk?"

His jaw slacked a little. "Yes. Mom and I drink whole milk. You think maybe whoever did this poisoned the whole bottle?"

"I only just considered it now," you admitted. Your eyes flicked to Tim. "Looks like Katie's going to have to bring the jug in now too."

"I'll call her," he said, standing up as he dialed Katie's number and leaning against the wall as he explained to her that she needed to go back to the mansion a third time in less than half a day.

Poor Katie, you thought.

"Who besides you and your mother have access to the fridge on a regular basis?" you pressed.

"The cook, maid, the gardener, the whole family," Richard listed. "None of them have motive to do it."

"That's for us to decide," you told him as Tim sat back down.

Richard turned to him. "Anything else you want to know?"

"Plenty," he said, lifting his eyes to meet Richard's. "Where were you this morning?"

x

It was nearly a half hour later when Tim finished with Richard, letting him go with a warning to not skip town. You were ready to feel that twist in your stomach, your gut instinct, to tell you letting him go was a mistake, but you didn't get it. As much as you'd thought Richard's attitude towards his brother was bordering hate you didn't get murder vibes from him. His nickname suited him well, but being a dick didn't automatically make someone a killer.

The interrogation with Hazel, their frail appearing seventy-eight-year-old mother who looked every bit like the grandmother to four she was, went similarly to the one with Richard. Although Hazel did not share the anger Richard had towards Elliot, she wasn't shedding any tears either. It was so odd to you. You'd had a shaky relationship with your mother before she passed, but you still had felt the loss after she died. You'd still sobbed when she was laid to rest in the cemetery of your hometown. You'd heard of people being numb at first to loss, like they were in some kind of daze, but you doubted that was it.

You started to truly understand for the first time what kind of people tended to find themselves leading successful businesses. You didn't like what you saw.

"Mrs. Henley, did you hate your son?" you inquired boldly.

Her eyes grew wide. "Of course not. I wouldn't have let him stay home if I did. To most he was lazy, but he helped me around the property. Spent time in the garden with me every afternoon. Adopting him was the best decision I ever made."

For the first time in the last fifteen minutes you and Tim had been talking with her there was sadness in her eyes.

Maybe she isn't a psychopath after all, you mused.

"You adopted Elliot?" Tim prompted.

Hazel nodded. "We knew his biological mother. When she died, we decided to take him in, treat him as our own. It's what friends do."

"So kind of you," you said, trying to sound sincere. You couldn't help but think that there was something more; that there was no way this lady had adopted a child out of the goodness of her heart. Adopting him had probably come with tax breaks or something like that.

Elliot and Richard's older sisters, Heidi and Jeanine, who were both in their forties, blonde, and mothers to two children each, all in their teens, weren't much better than Hazel and Richard, clearly not much more than spoiled trophy wives to their rich husbands.

"Maybe Elliot poisoned himself," Heidi suggested, "He didn’t have a lot going for him, you know? I loved him, but he was always the mess up of the family. It had to have eaten at him."

"My brother was kind, but didn't make anything of himself," Jeanine said later during the interview with her. "I'd think him committing suicide makes more sense than murder. None of my family are capable of that."

The linear ceiling light above started blinking furiously above the three of you and you felt the air get thick with tension that was cutting knife worthy. Anger. Your breathing picked up to compensate for the lack of oxygen getting to your lungs. You shivered as a draft hit the back of your neck. Out of habit your eyes darted to and fro, looking for danger but finding nothing visible.

You knew he was there though, watching, and he was trying to tell you his sisters' theories were way off. He definitely had not killed himself.

Tim and Jeanine clearly hadn't felt anything in the air change, surprised by the intense reaction you'd had to the lights flickering, but they had at least seen the lights go off. Once again Tim was studying you, expression trained. "You alright?"

"I'm okay," you answered, "Nothing new for me."

It was true it wasn't new, but it had still shaken you. Kind Elliot Henley seemed to have a lot of hate in his soul in the afterlife. You honestly couldn't blame him though. None of his family, even his sisters who were supposed to like him, had shed any tears in front of you and you were pretty sure shock couldn't account for any of it.

After the interviews were over, you and Tim headed to the office you shared.

"What a piece of work that family is," you muttered as he closed the door behind you. You turned on your heels to face him.

Tim nodded. "Sure is."

"I’m almost certain there's no way either Jeanine or Heidi murdered him though."

"Their alibis are too solid," he agreed. "And they sounded more like they pitied him than were angry at him."

"Exactly."

"We're still going to do a solid background check on them."

"Of course."

He sat down at his desk and you at the computer one, and you both got to work.

x

After thorough searching you and Tim uncovered that the Henley family were generally law-abiding citizens - except for a few speeding tickets (Richard) and a couple court cases for tax evasion by Hazel and her belated husband Roderick, one that had been proven and had ended with him being in prison for a few months. Not with the general population, of course. You'd bet his prison room had been private and clean. Safe.

Though the day had mostly been a bore, you still found yourself exhausted by the end of your twelve hour shift, not hesitating to turn down an invitation to eat out with the floor secretaries from Helen. All you wanted to do was make a sandwich, eat it, and go to bed, as much as you liked Helen.

And that's exactly what you did, not even taking time to read before bed like you typically did.

You startled awake just after midnight to a loud cracking sound. It sounded like one of your potted plants in the living room had been knocked down from one of the wall shelves and had broken when it hit the hardwood floor.

Back in your early thirties you'd taken in a smokey gray cat with stunning light green eyes named Blue that had been owned by a woman who had been murdered in a burglary gone wrong. He'd been a serial houseplant tipper. It had been almost guaranteed one of your houseplant pots would fall victim to him during the course of a week until you learned to tape the underneath of each one to the shelf beneath them.

In your sleep haze you figured he'd finally managed to knock one down, but after a few moments your mind caught up and you remembered that you'd had to give Blue’s vet permission to euthanize him over six years ago, his kidneys having failed at the ripe age of twenty.

Dread seized you, tightened your throat. Had someone broken in? Had you forgotten to lock the door? You were usually very careful about it, but you had been pretty tired.

You reached blindly under your bed for the handgun you kept there, locked away in a black box in the off chance you'd ever need it, and without switching on any lights loaded the chamber with a couple bullets before heading down the short hall with it, into the living room.

You turned the corner carefully, gun at the ready, finger curled right next to the trigger, but the room was clear, except for the spider plant and its pot that had shattered on the floor, spilling most of its dark gardening soil all over the surrounding floorboards.

You sucked in a deep breath and moved into the kitchen but no one was there either. There had to have been someone though. Unless there had been an earthquake, but one of that magnitude would've jostled you awake before the pot had fallen.

You felt it then. Him then. That eerie feeling of being watched by someone no longer quite human creeping under your skin, making you quake, as it often did.

Saying that you were alarmed would be an understatement. Bullets didn't harm spirits.

You slowly twisted around to find him there, looming smack in the middle of the start of your hallway, half hidden by the shadow of your fridge, barely seven feet from you. He was standing with a hunch in his back and an arm curled around his belly, a stance of someone with some kind of severe abdominal pain. His eyes did not hold any of that pain though. All you could see in them was rage.

It was the kind of expression that would make any sane person flee, especially since he wasn't a little guy, so that's what you did, bolting for your car keys on the table and then the front door.

Before you could make it out, as you were slipping through the doorway, you felt searing pain as something sharp dragged down your back, and you concluded in terror that he'd scratched you, all the while racing for your 1991 Taurus.

It wasn't until you'd already driven a mile out from your house that you were able to breath properly again. It was at that exact time the tears spilled from your eyes and everything that had happened during the previous ten minutes settled into your memory.

Elliot was severely pissed, feral. The worst kind of lost spirit. And it had taken him less than a day to get that way. It seemed that the kind man his family had described had hidden an inner darkness. Maybe he'd been successful in life at beating it down, but in death all bets were definitely off. You'd never known a spirit to lose control so fast, even those who had managed to attach themselves to their murderers.

And he'd clearly latched onto you, followed you home. It wasn't the first time a spirit had, but it was the first they could actually harm you to any degree by touch. You swallowed hard. You'd only temporarily escaped. He'd find you again. It would be instant if you returned home any time soon, so you drove around the city aimlessly for a couple hours, after hiding your gun in the glove compartment. You didn't have a concealed weapon permit, but you didn't think leaving it on the passenger seat was wise either if a patrol cop happened to pull you over.

It was past two when you found yourself rolling up into Tim's driveway, not sure where else to go. You knew where Helen lived too, but you did not want to chance dragging her into the mess you found yourself in. She was just a secretary. At least Tim had some training dealing with violent situations, not that it would help much in the face of a being he could not see, let alone hurt.

That was your reasoning at least as you studied the plain looking two-story house in front of you. It was encased in white painted wood where yours was in brick, but with the addition of that second floor it was bigger. Probably not much more expensive though. The house was old, aged by at least three decades where yours had been built less than a decade ago. The paint was also chipping, the outdoor upkeep of it clearly not a priority for him.

Despite the house looking prime for a haunting it called out to you, beckoning you inside, because the man who called it home was your most trusted friend and you knew his presence could at the bare minimum comfort you after the trauma you'd just been through.

You approached with the energy of a woman half your age, sprinting up the front porch steps and pounding on the oak door more demandingly than you had intended.

Tim swung it open a full minute later, in nothing but dark gray sweatpants, his heavy eyes peering out at you, his hair tussled from what had probably been a deep, satisfying sleep.

You'd have felt guilty for waking him if your heart hadn't nearly stopped at the sight of his bare, broad shoulders, defined upper arm muscles, and soft belly.

You'd admittingly dreamed of him more than once in the last year you'd known him, your subconscious mind not caring one bit that he was your partner, but your brain hadn't quite done him justice. You wondered in what other...areas your dreams failed him, but you refused to let your gaze drop below the beginnings of the happy trail on his lower stomach.

"Psy, what are you doing here?" he asked, eyes widening as soon as his brain registered who was standing in front of him.

"Can I please stay here tonight?" you pleaded hurriedly, afraid if you didn't get what you wanted to say out fast that you'd chicken out.

"What's going on?" he questioned, pursing his lips. There was worry in his eyes again. He stepped aside before you could answer, gesturing for you to enter his cozy home.

You did so gratefully and folded your arms self-consciously over your chest. It had just occurred to you that since you were in nothing but thin cotton long sleeved forest green pajamas that your breasts were well defined underneath, especially after standing outside in the chill of an autumn night for some time.

"Elliot's spirit followed me home," you informed him, rubbing your upper arms with your hands, attempting to warm them up. "He attacked me."

"Attacked you?" Tim sounded startled. You met his eyes and saw his concern deepen. He hadn't thought to say that it was impossible because it was all in your head. You wondered if he was finally starting to come around to the idea that spirits existed.

If he wasn't, he surely would after what you'd do next.

"He scratched me," you continued, voice shaky as you turned your back to him and curled the tips of your fingers around the hem of the back of your shirt. "How bad is it?"

You rolled it up as high as you thought the scratch went and heard Tim inhale sharply as you revealed it to him. You felt his rough yet gentle hands glide over yours as he lifted your shirt up just a little higher to take in the full damage.

"Elliot did this?" he growled, sounding outraged, a fierce anger in his tone that you had not been prepared for, typically a man who was subtle with all his emotions.

"How bad is it?" you repeated, wanting desperately to know.

"There's three long marks diagonally along the center of your back," he stated stiffly, attempting to rein in his upset. "They are about four inches in length, start to finish. Luckily they don't look too deep, but judging from the blood on your shirt, they did bleed for some amount of time."

You stepped away from him and dropped your shirt back into place before facing him again. "I wouldn't do that to myself."

"I know," he said firmly. You could tell from his tense expression alone that he believed you. "There's no way you could've reached back there to scratch yourself up like that. No normal human's nails could mark you that badly anyway.”

There was great relief from him finally accepting that spirits were real, especially that night. You desperately had needed him to believe it after having been shaken up so significantly. Your sight was blinded by tears again.

Tim reached out to squeeze your left shoulder supportively. "Does it hurt? Do you want to go to the hospital? I can drive you."

You shook your head, unable to prevent the smile that briefly adorned your face, remembering how'd he been with you when you first met. Oh how the times do change. "No, I just need a place to crash. Can I take your couch?"

"Better yet, you can take my spare bed," he replied, dropping his hand back to his side. "Follow me up. I'll show you to the room and get a fresh shirt and dressing for you. Going to need to clean those marks to make sure they don't get infected."

You nodded and trailed him as he climbed the stairs to the second floor without another word, flipping on lights as he went.

He entered the first room on the left and made his way in the dark to the nightstand to turn on the white lamp centered on its surface. The light emitted from it was dim, but good enough to use while cleaning your wound. Without a word Tim gestured for you to sit on the edge of the bed and strolled out of the room to collect the items he'd need to treat the scratches on your back.

He returned a few minutes later with scissors, gauze, medical tape, disinfectant, and an old plain black t-shirt in hand. He offered the shirt to you as soon as he was within your reach. You noted the charcoal gray t-shirt he'd slipped on while he was gone.

"I didn't think you owned anything besides black and white suits," you teased, trying to lighten the mood as you accepted it, folding the black shirt up on your lap until you could switch it out with your bloodied pajama one.

"We've never been around each other on our off days," he pointed out, a hint of a teasing tone in his voice. "I like to be comfortable just like anyone else."

For some reason it had been hard for you to imagine him in anything else but his work apparel. It was strange seeing him in casual clothes. Strange because it felt almost intimate. Like it was a part of his life you shouldn't have seen as his professional partner.

"Gonna sit behind you," he informed you quietly, gruffly. "Can you hold up the back of your shirt while I clean your wounds?"

You nodded, finding yourself tongue-tied, and couldn't help but note how much the mattress sank as he settled on it just outside of your peripheral vision. You could feel the front of one of his knees lightly brushing against your back after he was seated. You tried not to think about it as you lifted your shirt so he had easy access to the scratches.

"This is going to sting," he warned.

Nodding again, you tensed as he pressed a wet gauze to your upper back, hissing at the sting of the disinfectant he was using. It was the only painful thing about Tim tending to your wounds. His calloused hands occasionally brushed your sensitive, slightly inflamed skin, but they were as gentle as they could be. You found yourself trembling under his touch, and it wasn't because of the pain. With every feather light glance of his fingertips the desire you'd consistently tried to stomp out for months flared with newfound strength.

"Sorry," he apologized in the softest tone you'd ever heard him spoke in. "Almost done."

You clutched at the mattress beneath you as he taped gauze to your upper back, trying to focus on that rather than his presence, grateful that your reactions were only coming off as ones of pain to him. He wasn't completely wrong.

“All done,” he finally announced, and you expected to be relieved when his hands pulled away from you, but instead you felt your hunger for him surge within you. You couldn’t keep still. You needed his hands back on you.

You twisted in place, dropping the shirt that had been on your lap, and crashed your lips into his desperately, hands splaying out on his chest as you prayed silently that he would respond, and respond he did, tugging you closer, curling a hand around the base of your neck, and licking into the heat of your mouth and you realized in that moment that he had desired you just as much.

When you both took a breath, he pulled his head back far enough to study your face, searching for anything in your expression that could tell him what more you wanted from him. He would only give as much as you asked for.

You answered his silent question with another searing kiss, your hands traveling to his back and up into his hair, ruffling it as you sought purchase. You pressed yourself closer to him and he embraced you, arms wrapping around your lower back, careful to avoid your bandaged wound.

It wasn’t long before you guided his hands to the edge of your shirt and he got your message instantly, easing your sleep shirt up off of you and chucking it to the floor.

The chill in the room had your bare nipples immediately hard, and he didn’t miss it, his thumbs tracing your stiff buds, blown dark eyes flickering between your breasts and face. “Okay?”

“Yes,” you whined. You lolled your head back and one of his hands left your chest to support your neck again as he leaned towards you to lave at your exposed neck. Your fingers slipped into his short, slightly wavy hair again as you hummed under his attentiveness. "So good."

You reached for the chord of his sweatpants to untie it, the back of your hand brushing against the hardening bulge behind it, and he groaned as he jerked away from you, as if it was painful to do so. “We don’t have to do anything else if you don’t want to.”

“Where’d you get the idea I didn’t?” you chuckled. You definitely did not want to stop.

“I don’t have any condoms on hand,” he admitted after a few moments. “The last box I had expired.”

“Well, lucky for the both of us I’ve already gone through menopause,” you told him, kissing the corner of his mouth fondly, his moustache scrapping pleasantly against your lips. “And I’ve been just as focused on work as you have been the last few years or so.”

He caught onto your underlying meaning and tilted his head to catch your full mouth again as you loosened his pants, tugging them down as far as you could while still on the bed, revealing his black and white checkered boxers.

In a brief, humorous thought, you made a mental note to get him items of clothing that weren’t black, white, tan, or gray for his next birthday. The man needed more color in his life.

He didn’t notice the amusement on your face as he stood and kicked the pants the rest of the way off him, and when you laid back so he could remove your pants, it was gone. Nothing but want to invade your mind and your face.

Slowly but surely the last articles of clothing remaining on you both were added to the pile on the floor as your mouths and hands explored each other greedily. Once you were free, you knelt on the edge of the bed in front of him and reached out to hold the heft of him in your hands, stroking him confidently, spreading the precum leaking from his head up his entire length. Your firm, yet caressing touch had his knees buckling, and he groaned into your mouth as he braced himself against the bed with an arm, the other molded around your hips. You glanced up at his face briefly as you continued to pump him with your hands and the edges of your mouth lifted, taking delight in watching him watch you work him up with hooded eyes.

Once he was firm you shuffled back on the bed to make room for him to join you, mirroring your kneeling position. He reached down between your legs and you gasped as his fingers made contact with your clit, circling and tracing it until you were thrusting against his hand and him sliding two thick fingers inside you was enough to make you come, a warmth flooding your core as you lurched forward, panting against his chest, giving yourself time to enjoy the waves of ecstasy that followed. It had been quite some time since someone had made you feel that way.

When it was over you firmly pushed him back onto his palms and heels, a soft smile on your face. He raised his eyebrows slightly at you, wondering what you had in mind, but did not resist, curiosity winning out over any yearning he might have to be in control.

You had an idea of what you were doing, but most of it was instinct, wanting to be face to face with him without either of you being on your backs. You clung to his shoulders with your arms, lifting yourself up high enough to hover over him as you climbed onto his lap and folded your legs around his waist, lining your entrance up with his head before you let yourself slowly drop down on top of him.

He was thick, and it was a tight fit, but the foreplay had done its job, making you slick enough to take him deep. The drag of his cock inside you had him gritting his teeth the whole time you slid  him into you. He wound his strong arms around your lower back to brace you as you began to roll your hips against him and he joined in your rhythm, gliding in and out of you at a steady pace. Your faces stayed close, cheek to cheek, his beard prickling yours. You whimpered when he hit you particularly deep and he turned his head to nuzzle his nose against yours. “Okay?” he rasped between soft grunts.

You nodded vigorously, eyes snapped shut, breaths heavy. There were no other words spoken between you as you rocked together, letting your bodies and the sounds that slipped out of your mouths do the communicating.

It took you a little longer than it would’ve when you were younger, but when he found that special spot inside you his insistent press into it had you squeezing him and moaning loudly, invoking praise from his lips in the form of your name. He stilled in you soon after, cock spasming, spurting hot inside you as he emitted a low satisfied hmph, kissing along your lower jaw through both of your aftershocks.

When it was over, he let himself fall back onto one of the bed pillows and you followed him, still on top of him, allowing him to linger inside you as he softened, as your racing hearts returned to their normal rhythms, as you caught back your breaths. You were silent the whole time, not saying a word, just enjoying the intimate closeness with him. Trying not to let any of the fears and doubts knocking at your door in as your mind cleared from your lustful haze.

Eventually you rolled off him and he made a move to stand, only having managed to sit up when you pressed a palm against his broad chest in attempt to stop him from moving anymore.

“Stay with me, please?”

His eyes turned up to the doorway then back to your face, his expression saying what he wouldn't. He was uncertain if he should stay, though you could tell he wanted to. A brief kiss to his shoulder was all it took to convince him. "Alright. I'll stay."

You both took time to clean yourselves up in the bathroom across the hall, dressed back into your sleep clothes (you wearing his black t-shirt), and unmade the bed together, curling up under the thick blankets immediately after. You flipped onto your side, a hand folded under your pillow, and you smiled as he molded his burly body against your back, careful not to put any pressure on your wounds. His right arm draped over your stomach and you reached down to clasp his hand in yours, grateful for his affection. You felt safe in his arms, in a way you hadn't felt in a very long time, not when violent deaths and literal ghosts were a consistent part of your work. The warmth radiating off his body relaxed you as well, lulling you to sleep.

The last thing you felt as you drifted off was him burying his face into your neck.

x

You woke in the early morning to the beginnings of daylight spilling into the bedroom from the small window inside it. You were still warm, but when you registered that Tim's body was no longer pressed against yours, dread filled you. Had he decided to go back to his own bed after all?

You forced yourself to stand, quietly moving down the hall to peer into the next room over, the only other one with a bed in the house. The bed had been clearly used the night before, but it was empty, and when you dared to walk over to touch the sheets, they were freezing cold. You couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped your lips at that before you tip toed back out the room. It had to be a good sign that he'd stayed the whole night with you, right?

You chewed on the inside of your cheek as you headed for the bathroom and locked the door behind you so you could pee in privacy, still trying to push away your anxiety over how this morning would go. How Tim would be with you, what he would say. Where would you stand? You couldn't imagine the previous night being the one and only time you ever spent with him intimately, but you knew if he didn't want a real relationship you'd turn down any halfway offers. You weren't built for sex without emotion tied to it. It was in part why you hadn't had any for years, besides the forementioned workaholic issue.

You tried to ignore the ache that was forming in your chest as you washed your hands then brushed your teeth, splashing water in your face after, in an attempt to look put together when you were anything but after all that had occurred with Elliot and then Tim.

You strolled into the kitchen, finding Tim at the counter, pouring steaming hot coffee into two mugs. "Just in time," he said, his back still turned to you. You mused that he must have better hearing than you if he'd heard you padding into the room in your socks. None of the floorboards had squeaked. Maybe it was the job that had made him hyper aware.

"You want some coffee?" he asked, like everything between you was the same as it had been twenty-four hours before. You felt a tinge of annoyance that he could act so normal, but you hid it from him.

"Sure, if you have sugar and milk."

"Of course." He nodded at you and reached inside the fridge so he could grab the whole milk inside and mix a teaspoon of it into the coffee mug on his right, followed by a teaspoon of sugar from the canister on the countertop. He left his free of additives, preferring his black, something that still had you twitching your nose even after having seen him drink it nearly every day for the past year. You couldn't imagine drinking coffee as is, even if it was made with high quality whole beans.

Tim passed you your mug as you sat down at the small kitchen table in the far corner of the room. Instead of joining you he leaned back against the counter, eyes focused on his mug when he wasn't sipping from it.

"Are we going to talk about last night?" you inquired after a few minutes, the silence bothering you more than the fear of the conversation you were about to push.

Tim lifted his head to meet your eyes, appearing a bit ashamed. "I shouldn't have. Should've backed off. You were afraid. Seeking comfort. I feel like I took advantage of you."

You huffed. "I didn't sleep with you because I was afraid. I slept with you because your hands felt good on my skin. Because I trust you. Because I have feelings for you. Have for a long time. Do you know how good you look in suspenders?"

He snorted quietly, eyes falling back to the mug in his hands. "I've felt something for you for a while too. I've just been denying it to myself."

"Because of my abilities?" you guessed, trying not to be bothered by what was in the past.

He shook his head, looking back up at you. "I've been in denial about that too. Last night was not when you finally convinced me the spirits you see exist. It was slow, it snuck up on me, my belief, increasing with every case we took on that had an active one interacting with you. The way you consistently knew things you shouldn't have. The occasional unexplained eerie feeling I got sometimes right before you'd react to one showing itself to you. That's what eventually sold me. I just never imagined one would hurt you."

You recalled his reaction when he saw your scratches for the first time. "You were afraid for me. Last night."

"Of course," he confirmed with a growl. "Still am. He hurt you, he could hurt you again, and because Elliot's already dead I can't do shit about it."

There was a hint of defeat, of helplessness in his voice that made you feel like your heart was in a vice grip. You wanted nothing more than to run up to him and hug him, to reassure him it would be fine, but you denied yourself of that moment to further the conversation.

"The only way Elliot leaves me alone is if we solve the case," you told him. "And we've got a little over a couple hours before we can get back to that task. In the meantime, we need to figure out where we stand."

"Like if we pretend this never happened or we report to HR?"

"Something like that."

He peered back down at the coffee in his mug. "What do you want?"

"What do you think?" You curled your fingertips tighter around your mug. "I want whatever you want, unless that boils down to meaningless sex. I can't do that. What do you want?"

He sighed heavily. "A part of me wishes I could take last night back, and another part has no regrets." You swallowed hard, but said nothing as he continued, "This will complicate things at work. No matter what route we take. There's a reason HR frowns on people in the same unit having any kind of intimate relationship with each other."

"Because they're stupid," you muttered, sipping at your coffee, eyes shifting to peer up at him, waiting expectantly.

He couldn't help but chuckle even as he shook his head disapprovingly at you.

"I asked what you wanted, not HR," you reminded him, as you abandoned your mug at the table to join him by the counter.

When you got just within arm's reach he cupped your face with one palm gently, stroking his thumb over your cheek. "I want to see where this goes," he admitted.

"Then let's do that," you said as a weight lifted off your chest. "Screw HR."

Tim grunted. "We'll have to tell them eventually."

"Well, eventually is not going to be today."

He nodded his agreement as he guided your face closer to his, pressing a kiss to your lips more sweetly than you could've imagined him capable of.

When he pulled away you touched your forehead to his shoulder. "I need to get my work clothes at my house."

Elliot was not likely waiting there for you, and he could turn up anytime, anywhere, he even could've popped up right then and there in Tim's kitchen, but you still were not looking forward to it.

"I'll go with you," he offered immediately. "Let me put on my glasses and a pair of jeans and I'll drive you, go inside with you. You can grab whatever you need to get dressed for work and bring it back here. If that would make you feel safer."

He knew as well as you that it didn't matter to Elliot where you went, but he also knew going back to your home so soon after the attack would be difficult for you and that him being there would make a difference to you mentally.

"Thanks," you murmured. "I'll take you up on that."

"You can also stay here until the case is solved," he added, "No strings attached. I'm not expecting last night to happen again any time soon. I'm not trying to rush things. I just don't like the idea of you being alone while Elliot's still around, even though I know logically I wouldn't be able to stop him from hurting you again."

You beamed at him and wriggled your eyebrows. "Who says I don't want to repeat that any time soon?"

He cursed under his breath as you pulled away from him with a playful smirk and headed for the door. "I'll wait in the car."

"That's not fair, Psy," he called after you.

You didn't look back, but you were smiling warmly as you exited the house.

x

Luckily your fears of returning home were unwarranted, your quest to gather a few sets of clothes and beauty products uneventful. Maybe it had something to do with Tim standing formidably in the doorway to your bedroom as you packed your suitcase. Did the dead ever get intimidated by the living?

In any case you were grateful to get out of there without another confrontation with Elliot.

As soon as you and Tim arrived back at his house you both showered, him in the master bathroom and you in the hallway bathroom. He was dressed in a half hour and you in an hour, barely finishing up in time to not be late for work.

You and Tim took your own vehicles (well, he took his detective car), not wanting to spike the curiosity of any prying eyes and nosey noses in the department. Helen, bless her soul, would've been the first asking twenty questions and it was the last thing either of you wanted with your newfound relationship literally only hours old.

When you entered the Homicide Division you spotted Tim towards the back of the room having a conversation with Katie. You strolled up to them, a polite smile on your face.

"Anything new, Katie?" you asked lightly as you came to a stop between them, making sure you were no more closer or farther from Tim than you usually positioned yourself.

"Nothing with me personally," she told you, "But the Henley case, oh boy. Dex, the poison expert on our team tested a mystery substance in a gas can found half buried in the woods behind their mansion."

"And there were traces of arsenic."

"Of course," she said, "But that's just the beginning. There was blood on the canister. Just a speck. Looks like the killer cut themselves on the hard plastic trying to open the lid. I swabbed it and compared it to the oral samples we took from each of the Henley’s. Compared it to a blood sample from Elliot for good measure..."

You waited but after several seconds of silence you huffed. You hated when people stretched out tension, like a reality show going to commercial break right before the winner is revealed. "What'd you find kid?"

You could've sworn Katie's eyes were glowing with excitement. Whatever information she had was juicy.

"First off, you remember how Elliot is adopted, right?"

You raised your eyebrows. "Yeah..."

"Well, turns out he is actually related to Richard and his sisters," Katie informed you, "But not Hazel."

"Roderick cheated on her," you concluded, eyes broadening. "And she let him adopt his son when his mistress died?"

"She might have not known," Katie offered, "Not until now at least."

"Are you suggesting she's our prime suspect?" Tim quizzed.

"I would be," she replied, "...if it wasn't Richard's blood on the canister."

"He described Elliot as a leech," you recalled. "A lazy one at that. It wouldn't be a big stretch to think that after finding out Elliot is their father's bastard son that he might consider him unworthy of living in their mansion. Worse than an interloper; living, breathing evidence that their father was not faithful to their mother."

"We've got enough for you to get an arrest warrant," you stated.

"Let's get going then," Tim said, buttoning up his trench coat. "The sooner we have that warrant the better."

He didn't mention that it was because Elliot had become a threat.

x

By mid afternoon Richard was back in the same interrogation room he had been in the previous day, dressed in a suit and tie, having been caught on the front porch of the mansion right after returning home from a business meeting.

At first he wouldn't stop rambling, mostly about how he was going to sue the whole department for every penny for falsely accusing him, but he'd been quiet since Tim had revealed that Forensics had DNA proof that he'd opened the canister of arsenic, the gravity of his situation having finally sunk in.

"I know you said you're not going to talk anymore until your lawyer gets in," Tim started as he sat down in front of him, "But indulge me. Let me tell you how I think everything went down."

Richard stared at him, maintaining a neutral expression.

"I think somehow you found out Elliot was actually your half brother," Tim continued, "And I think you decided your good-for-nothing half brother had to go. You couldn't risk it getting out that your father, the head of your family, had once had a mistress. You had to keep your family's reputation clean of that kind of scandal for the sake of your business' success. Am I right?"

Richard had been well trained in the art of, well, training his face, but you had trained yourself well in the art of observation and you'd had several more years than him to practice. When Tim had called Elliot his half brother Richard's eyes had widened just a bit.

"You didn't know he was your biological brother," you realized. "You didn't murder Elliot." You took a step towards him, away from the wall your back had been pressed against. "Who had you open the gas canister, Dick?"

He refused to speak.

"Was it Jeanine? Heidi? No..." You paused, "It was Hazel after all, wasn't it?"

"Dick, without your statement, without the truth, we will have to go ahead with prosecuting you," Tim declared. "All the evidence points to you. Unless you can say otherwise or tell us of other evidence that would contradict what we've gathered."

"Guess I'm going to prison then," he snarled.

"Well, no one can argue you're not a good son," you said with a shrug, trying to act casual. "Guess there's nothing left for us to say here."

You headed for the door and Tim followed you out. "You have an idea."

"Actually, I don't," you admitted. "I was hoping you did. Since my little ghost problem won't go away until we put his real killer behind bars."

Tim worked his jaw. "We let Richard sit in prison for a few days, then let Hazel visit him and talk with her again after. Maybe she loves him enough to confess."

"A few days?" You arched your brows and he narrowed his eyes at you, his expression warning you not to say anything else.

"I don't have any ulterior motives behind the time frame," he told you. "We have the weekend off and Richard needs time to stew. To realize how awful prison truly is. Either he breaks or Hazel does."

You couldn't help the crooked smile that formed on your face. "Cold..."

“Apt.”

"True."

x

You spent the rest of the day digging up information on the Henley family history at the public library seven minutes away from the department and going over some photos that had been confiscated from the mansion.

One in particular got your attention. A wedding photo of Hazel and Roderick. “They look so happy,” you observed from over Tim’s shoulder as he studied it in one hand, his glasses grasped in the other. Something occurred to you. “Do you think she killed him too, for cheating?”

Tim shook his head. “I checked into his death. It was from lung cancer. He was a heavy smoker.”

"Of course.”

Tim checked his watch. "Time to clock out. Do you want to head out to a bar?"

It was a fairly common for him to ask you if you wanted to hang out at Liquid Alchemy on a Friday night, or after a case was closed, but it was the first time he had suggested a bar and not Liquid Alchemy by name. You cocked an eyebrow. "What do you have in mind?"

"There's this upscale full bar in the Lazy Queen restaurant on the other side of the city," Tim informed you. "I've never been, but I've heard good things. Though it's a little pricey for everyone here. For one night it wouldn't hurt to indulge though. I'll pay."

You got the message. The bar's location and prices would keep anyone you knew from work away and would allow you both to enjoy the rest of the night without prying eyes.

You glanced at the doorway of your shared office, making sure no one on the floor outside of it was within earshot. "Sounds like a date."

"If you'd like it to be."

"I would."

Tim dropped the photo in his hand on the desk and put his glasses back on before pushing himself up onto his feet with a small grunt, his left hand briefly clutching at his stiff lower back. You held back a comment about him needing to get a new office chair. You'd already mentioned it to him several times before, but he was stubborn.

"I'll head out right now," he told you as he shrugged on his trench coat, which had been draped over the chair in front of his desk. "Give me five before you follow me. We'll meet up at my house and you can jump in with me, okay?"

You grinned. "Sounds like a plan."

He dared a quick kiss to your temple as he passed you on the way out of the room and your lips pulled back even more.

Dating Tim was going to get dangerous. You could get used to him being affectionate with you.

x

The Lazy Queen's restaurant had the best Margaritas you could ever recall, and they hit hard too. After only a couple your usually not-so-lightweight self had become a chatty twenty questions kind of gal. It was so out of character for you Tim was amused by your behavior, lips quirking up on several occasions as you continued through your list of questions which he all answered patiently.

"Horror or action films?"

"Action."

"Have you ever seen snow in person?"

"Of course. It snows in Portland. Just not every year. Heard rumors we might this December, but it's not something to bet on."

"What's the story behind this?" you quizzed, stretching forward to clasp his left hand in yours, displaying the small target tattoo in between his thumb and index finger.

"I got it when I first started basic training," he answered. "It was to remind myself to hit bullseye every time. Literally and figuratively. To never lose sight of my goals."

"And have you not?" you inquired.

"Not what?"

"Lost sight of your goals."

He shrugged, taking a sip of the fancy drink in his right hand, and you realize you've forgotten the name of it. You pushed your current Margarita, your third, away from you. "I've had to take a few failures like everyone else. We can't solve every case."

There was something in his dark eyes, a hint of grief and guilt, that sobered you up a bit because you knew then that he was thinking about his lost sister.

"Think you're sober enough to drive us home?" you asked him with a sigh.

His eyebrows shot up. "You moving in permanently?" He was smiling lightly, teasing.

"Not yet," you huffed. "You know what I meant. Your home."

"Yeah," he said, an index finger circling the edge of his glass. "I'm sober enough. I don't even have a buzz. I've been nursing this lone drink all night. You didn't notice?"

"Shut up."

x

You were running barefoot through the forest at night at full speed, in a flowing white dress that reached your knees, eyes darting over your shoulders on occasion to make sure whatever you were trying to escape wasn't gaining on you. It was too dark out to see that far behind you though.

Fallen leaves crunched under your bare feet, damp moss made you slip twice, and you had to leap a few tree roots that stuck out of the ground but you didn't slow your pace for even a moment.

You heard a river roaring in the distance and for some reason you were convinced that crossing that would save you, so you aimed for the sound, stretching your legs out as far as you could in hopes of covering ground even faster. You stopped looking back, certain if you kept moving that you'd get to safety.

You pushed through a thicket of trees and had to skid to a stop, narrowly preventing yourself from falling off the cliff on the other side of it, one of your feet halfway over the edge. You were right next to a waterfall. You gasped at the close call.

Remembering that you had been running from something you twisted around and your eyes grew into saucers when you spotted it. A black human shaped mass easily flowing through the trees, into the same open space you were in.

"You can run, but you can't hide forever," said a furious masculine voice. It was coming from the black mass, though you could not see a mouth, let alone see it move.

"Why are you chasing me?" you demanded fearfully.

"Because you are fleeing," the voice growled, like it was the simplest thing. Maybe it was to him. Nothing but a predator chasing prey.

You swallowed hard as he took a step forward. "I spent so much time living fictional lives, I forgot how entertaining the living could be to mess with."

Your eyes grew bigger. "Elliot," you whispered. "You don't belong here."

"In your dreams, or in the world?" he hissed as his form reshaped into the man you'd seen lying dead on a cold table less than forty-eight hours ago.

"Both," you replied. "Spirits who stick around can become troubled fairly quickly."

"You think I'm one of your troubled ghosts?" He chuckled, a gleam in his already eerie gray eyes. "All I've done is discover the benefits of being dead."

"This isn't the man who sat with his mother in the garden," you noted.

"No," he agreed. "That man was murdered by her. Apparently."

At your surprised reaction he beamed. "I was there when you interviewed my brother for the second time. I just made sure you couldn't tell. I'm getting better at stuff like that."

You shivered. "This isn't you, Elliot." You knew it to be true in your gut. Everyone had the capacity to commit evil, some more than others, but what mattered was how you had behaved, and while Elliot had maybe been lazy, nothing you'd heard or read about him had hinted at him behaving badly in any kind of way. The in between had twisted him beyond recognition.

"Who says anyone has to stay the same?" He strolled towards you and you took another step back, finding yourself teetering, dangerously close to falling over the cliff. He grinned. "It's fun messing with you."

He shoved you, catching you off guard for a second, sending you flying over. You heard your skull crack against a stone before you collapsed into the frigid water at the bottom.

x

Your eyes snapped open and you pulled ragged breaths from your lungs as you shot up into a sit in Tim's guest room bed. For a few seconds you didn't move other than to press your right hand to your chest and close your eyes as you focused on recovery.

It had felt so real, but it had all been a dream. You could hardly remember the last time you'd been so relieved. It was short lived though, as you realized that Elliot might've been the crafter of your nightmare. After all, though it was rare, it had happened before with other spirits. It would explain why you were still shaking. He was nearby, close enough to affect you, for you to sense him on some subconscious level.

On the way back to Tim's house you'd both decided that sleeping in separate bedrooms would be best for your relationship for a bit, not wanting to rush into it any more than you'd already had.

You regretted that as you rolled over and ran your hand over the cold spot next to you on the mattress in an attempt to seek comfort. You'd taken pride in yourself all your life for being independent, for not needing anyone else when you left the office, but there were occasions, nights like these, when the solace of another body besides yours would've been much more preferable.

For the first time in your life when a spirit had taken the reins of your subconscious, you had the option to change your situation. To seek that comfort you wanted so profoundly. You slid out of bed and walked into the doorway of the room next door, quietly knocking on the solid oak, trying to wake Tim without startling him.

He still flinched a little when he woke up, glancing around sleepily as he rolled from his side and onto his back. When he noticed you wordlessly standing in his doorway he blinked at you, confused. "What's wrong?"

You were suddenly shy, feeling stupid. Like you going to see him was childish, even though your nightmare hadn't been just a nightmare and you had every right to be afraid. "Elliot's nearby."

Tim sat up in bed quickly, the blankets that had covered him up to his shoulders slipping down to his waist. He had kept on the plain red shirt that he'd worn that night to bed with a fresh new pair of light gray sweatpants. "Where?"

"I don't know," you replied. "But he was in my dreams. He said he overheard that it was his adoptive mother who killed him and then he pushed me over a waterfall and I woke up."

"I'm sorry, Psy," he said, standing so he could rub your arms comfortingly. "Maybe waiting for Hazel to confess was a mistake."

You shook your head. "It's the only good plan we have. Any other could've screwed up the case. It's not your fault. And at least he didn't show up here in the house."

You still weren't exactly sure why.

"Do you want to stay with me?" Tim questioned. "Share the bed? Would that help?"

You shrugged. "Maybe. He doesn't seem to like interacting with me when you're around for some reason."

"He is shorter than me," he stated as if it made total sense.

You snorted at his joke but some part of you wondered if Elliot really was intimated by him. Sometimes spirits still acted like they were living and breathing. That could include fearful behavior.

In any case, you weren't about to turn down the offer you'd been hoping to get. "I'll take the right side, if that's alright. I sleep better there."

"You're in luck," Tim told you. "I actually sleep on the left most nights."

He returned to his bed, lifting the blankets high enough so you could easily follow, tucking yourself into his side. "Is this okay?" you asked him.

"Perfect."

Saturday and Sunday night were also spent cuddled up with each other in the same way. Tim didn't complain, and since you didn't have sex, you figured you were still complying pretty well with the promise you'd made to each other to slow things down while you began to learn each other on a much more personal level than you had before.

You were really reconsidering it though.

x

Monday morning you and Tim returned to work refreshed, coming back from a mostly relaxing weekend filled with old movies, takeout, and the background noise of rain.

You were so ready to get back to the case on that crisp, sunny day that it startled you when you spotted Hazel waiting for you both outside of the department's main entrance, extending her wrists out towards Tim in a gesture telling him to arrest her.

You and Tim both nearly dropped the coffee shop cups in your hands.

"I've come to confess," she declared, as if she needed to. "I killed Elliot."

Tim slapped the pair of cuffs he always kept on him while on duty onto her wrists and made sure they were secure. "Hazel Henley, you have the right to remain silent..."

x

Within ten minutes you, Tim, and Hazel were settled into one of the interrogation rooms, and Tim was holding up a voice recorder in front of her, flicking it on to record. "Start from the beginning. State your name and explain why you are here."

"My name is Hazel Henley, and I am here to confess that I killed Elliot Henley."

There was a slight tremble in her voice, but you were almost certain it was from having to admit to a crime and not because she regretted that he was dead.

"Mrs. Henley, why did you kill your son?" you prompted, trying to ignore a thickness that started to fill the air, making it a little harder to breath, putting something deep inside you on edge. Elliot was in the room, and he wasn't trying to hide it.

"Because he wasn't mine," she huffed. "Not really. Not at all in my eyes."

You frowned. "You didn't care about him; not even when you intially adopted him?"

"No," she answered bitterly. "How could I? Knowing he was my husband's bastard son?"

Tim lifted a brow. "You knew?"

"Of course I did," she said with annoyance. "I'm not stupid. Roderick was the one who came up to me suggesting we adopt him, nearly begged me. It was obvious. He would've never begged for a kid that wasn't of his own blood. Son of a friend or not."

"You knew Elliot's mother?"

"She was a neighbor of ours," Hazel explained. "Born into her money. Loved doing charity work as a job. The only sweet thing about her. She lived alone but had a way with people. Knew how to intertwine herself into everyone else's lives, make them worship her, or at least invite her to parties. She probably got pregnant on purpose in attempt to make Roderick leave me for her. I got the last laugh. Or so I thought, until the bitch died in a car accident."

"Why'd you agree to adopt Elliot?" you inquired, genuinely curious.

"Because Roderick always got his way," Hazel told you. "I wasn't always a strong-minded woman. I was worried saying no would be the last straw in our already broken marriage. I was trying to mend it."

"Then Roderick died..." Tim trailed.

"Then Roderick died," Hazel repeated. "And I was free to get rid of him before I got too old, before he could get a cent more of our money."

"Why did the canister of arsenic have Richard's blood on it?"

Hazel raised both of her hands in the air, palms down. They were tremoring slightly. "I can't get a good grip on most things nowadays. I needed someone to twist the lid open and pour some into a few smaller jars."

"He had no idea what you were doing?" you asked.

"He didn't even question what was inside," she replied. "He just poured it and left. My ever loyal son. I'm only confessing because he doesn't deserve to be in prison because of me. He has so much life left ahead of him."

You felt a flash of anger lick at your insides. Even though Elliot's spirit had attacked you twice, he'd only done that because of what Hazel had done to him. "Elliot had so much life ahead of him too."

She scoffed. "Playing video games? He was just like his mother. Living off his father's money. No ambition."

"You'd be surprised the money people can make playing games while others watch," you told her. "Some make millions."

"He wasn't," she assured you, eyes narrowing. She turned them back to Tim. "Anything else you need to know?"

"Plenty more," Tim said, "Starting with where you got concentrated arsenic."

She nearly smiled at him. "That's an interesting story, but a long one."

He gestured at her to go for it. "We have all day if necessary."

So she jumped into a story about how she found herself buying from black market dealers.

It was afternoon by the time you and Tim were done with her, by the time a prison guard was pulling her away from you both at the door where prisoners were dropped off.

On your way back to Tim's car you spotted Richard walking free, out of the chain link lined yard, a duffle bag over his shoulder. And Elliot was right there behind him, leaning against the fence, watching.

He must have felt you peering over at him because Elliot glanced up in your direction, and what you saw in his eyes surprised you. Getting justice must have calmed him because his expression was nothing like the one he'd worn either of the times he'd attacked you. It was like the madness had finally been lifted.

Strange how that sometimes worked.

You hesitantly gave him a curt nod and he gave you one back, disappearing immediately after, to God-only-knows where. Or maybe gods-only-know where.

You just knew that a subtle, insistent tension you hadn't really noticed was there before snapped and it seemed like the sunny day had become even brighter.

Elliot was gone.

x

That night Tim followed you back to your house, wanting to be there as you unpacked and settled back in, even though you'd assured him that Elliot had most definitely moved on.

That had eventually led you to asking him to stay for popcorn and a movie, to which he agreed to readily. It was almost ten o'clock when he got off the couch to leave.

"I'd better go," he said decidedly. "Getting late for a work night."

"I've been thinking," you told him.

"Oh?"

"About our agreement," you continued, standing up to give him a swift kiss on the mouth. "And I was thinking we should amend it."

Tim arched an eyebrow. "What were you thinking?"

"That we just do whatever feels right in the moment," you answered. "Within reason of course. We still have to be professional at work, of course. Even after we tell HR what's going on with us."

"So...no more slowing things down?"

"Technically we've already been in a relationship for thirteen months," you told him. "Just not a romantic kind. And we had our first date. Already have done plenty of cuddling..."

A subtle smile played on Tim's lips. "What are you suggesting, Psy?"

"You could stay here tonight," you replied, placing your hands on his suited chest. "You could show me what you'd have done that night if I hadn't taken lead. If you want."

He dived in to kiss you until you were both panting, until you were burning up inside. "I want," he confirmed, barely a whisper away from your mouth.

You grinned. "Then lead the way."

xxx

Tagged: @harriedandharassed

xxx

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

xxx

#The Rockford Files Series #Tim Rockford Fanfic (Mine) #Merge Mansion Fanfic #X Reader

[forjongseong]

aeropuerto // jay (ENHYPEN)

pairing: secretary!jay x CEO!fem!reader

genre: office!au, fluff, smut (minors dni) // warning: older reader; Jay calls reader “Boss”; making out; oral sex (both receiving); face-sitting; unprotected sex. // wc: ~10.4k

previous chapters:

part 1 - carmesí part 2 - mi reina part 3 - millones part 3.5 - hasta los dientes part 4 - vente conmigo part 5 - tusa part 5.5 - apaga y vámonos part 6 - versos de placer minisode part 1 - cuando nadie ve part 6.5 - yo te quiero más minisode part 2 - la niña de mis ojos

next chapters:

click here for the masterlist

summary: a slight unfortunate event and an encounter with an ex makes you realize how much Jay actually means to you.

author’s notes: welcome to PART SEVEN of the series! wow we have come a long way and I really did not plan on doing so (which is great because the best things are the ones that happen unplanned)

the song inspiration for this fic is Camilo's newest release, I can't believe he released it and none of you told me and I was unaware. oh well. let's look at the lyrics, shall we?

If you are by my side I will not let anything hurt you, hurt you,

Seven billion smiles in the world and I like yours.

Only yours.

What I feel is already very obvious,

I hate the world without you

And I think it's already well known,

that I want to be your boyfriend.

They call me airport because I put you to travel,

They call me gym because I make you sweat

They call me end of year because I make you drink

I want to snuggle up with you so they say I am your baby.

Now tell me that isn't Jay??????

taglist: @duolingofanaccount @jaylaxies @hee-pster @thots4hee @axartia @spxrklyfairydust @nyanggk @end-hyphen @jayked @yoursjaeyun

(taglist is open, send an ask if you want to be tagged!)

The schedule for this week was packed. Since it was already the last quarter of the year, which usually was the busiest time for your company, you had been juggling meetings and handling new deals, trying your best to split the work among your staff evenly. Some days, you wished you could be in two places at the same time, but lucky for you, Jay was always ready to be your other half.

You had sent Jay to attend several meetings outside while you tackle everything you needed to do in the comfort of your own office. You did not even leave the room to eat, having Hwiyoung deliver your lunch order right to your desk. Jay had scolded you several times for missing your meal, and you did not wish to disappoint him further.

Expecting Jay to return before sunset, you were slightly surprised to hear one knock on your door. You glanced up from your computer screen and saw the door that got pushed open. Jay entered carrying his briefcase and loosening the tie around his neck.

“You’re here early,” you said, pushing your chair back before standing up. “Everything under control?”

Jay smiled weakly and nodded, holding up an OK sign with his hand. He trod to the sofa at the center of your office and gently placed his briefcase on the coffee table. You wanted to check the documents that he brought back, so as soon as he let go of the briefcase, you made your way towards it. Meanwhile, Jay was looking for something to drink at your mini bar.

“Did Mr. Jung give you a hard time?” You asked, knowing that the company you had sent him to had a rather difficult executive member. Instead of an answer, you heard the clinking of glass before the sound of it shattering to the marble floor.

“Jay!”

You rushed towards him as he slowly collapsed to the floor, knees first and miraculously avoiding the pieces of glass. You caught him just in time before his head hit the floor, and as you made him lie on your lap you could see the consciousness on his face slowly fading away.

“Hwiyoung!” You yelled, hands roaming around Jay’s arms to make sure he didn’t get cut. After seconds of no response, you yelled Hwiyoung’s name again, this time louder.

Hwiyoung barged into your office and within a split second after assessing the room, ran towards you and Jay on the floor.

“Be careful, there’s broken glass,” you warned, reaching out an arm to stop Hwiyoung from coming closer. “Get my phone on my desk and press 7 on the speed dial. Ask for Doctor Kim.”

While Hwiyoung talked to the person on the phone in a rush, you took off the tie from Jay’s neck and chucked it away before you undid the first few buttons on his shirt. Your hands were shaking as you brushed his hair back, feeling his burning skin against your palm.

Everything else that happened after felt like a blur. After getting help from Hwiyoung to have Jay lie on your spacious sofa, you waited for the doctor to come and when he did, Jay slowly regained consciousness. You were speaking to the doctor when he opened his eyes, and because you got distracted by him, the doctor immediately turned back and spoke to Jay privately.

Hwiyoung was by your side the whole time and when you turned to face him, you reached out to stroke his arm, hoping you could thank him with the simple gesture. He gave you a comforting smile before putting his hand over yours.

“He’ll be fine, Miss,” said Hwiyoung in a low voice. “It’s just fatigue.”

You nodded and walked over to the doctor as soon as he wrapped up things. After asking Hwiyoung to walk the doctor back to the lobby and get someone to clean the shards of glass, you staggered back to the sofa, sitting on the floor and placing a hand on Jay’s shoulder.

“I feel like calling a doctor was overkill,” said Jay. His voice was raspy and he was staring blankly at the ceiling. When he didn’t hear your reply, he looked at you and noticed you were holding back tears. “Boss…”

Your attention was completely shifted when the janitor walked into your office, swiftly cleaning up the mess and leaving in less than five minutes. After thanking him, you smoothed your skirt and sat on the floor again beside Jay.

“Can you walk?” You asked after you managed to compose yourself and forced your voice to not sound too shaky.

“I think so.”

“Good. We’re going home now.”

You dismissed the rest of your staff for the day when you walked by with Jay, your one arm placed securely around his waist. They all looked at Jay with concern as his lips still looked slightly pale, and before you left almost all of them said get well soon to Jay in unison.

At the lobby, Mr. Lee took over and helped Jay get into the car while you walked over to the other side. You insisted for him to lie down on your lap, bringing both his legs up and taking his shoes off. You instructed Mr. Lee to drive slowly and turn the radio down.

Jay was facing sideways as you gently ran your fingers through his hair. You stared outside the window and your hand automatically kept repeating the same gesture, until you felt his skin instead of his hair and you noticed that he had adjusted his position to face you.

“I really am fine, you know,” Jay whispered, making you stop stroking his hair by grabbing your hand.

“Shush,” you replied, pulling your hand away from his grip and brushing his hair back again. He then decided to close his eyes for the rest of the ride.

When you arrived at your apartment, Mr. Lee was about to help walk Jay with you, but he insisted that he was fine. You kept your hand around his arm and constantly looked up at him for any signs, and when you placed your chin on his shoulder, he leaned his head on yours.

You asked Jay to go straight to your shared bedroom while you walked around making a fuss—heating water to make tea, browsing your phone to order dinner, and getting clean clothes for Jay to change into. Whenever Jay offered to do something, you nearly barked at him and told him to not even lift a finger.

The bedroom door was left open and Jay could see you walking around still in your working clothes—your button-down and your skirt. The tight bun on your hair was steadily becoming messier as loose strands started to come out and cover your face. After securing an order for dinner, you placed your phone on the counter and walked back to the bed.

Taking the clothes you already laid out for Jay, you walked over to him and sat on the edge of the bed, carefully unbuttoning his shirt. Jay saw your fingers trembling, struggling to even hold the buttons. He gently placed his hand around your wrist and looked at you.

“Y/N.”

Your eyes were focused on the buttons of his shirt as you bit your lower lip, fighting to hold back the tears.

“Look at me,” Jay demanded. His grip around your wrist tightened. You blinked as you shifted your gaze to his eyes and at the same time your tears fell. You started sobbing uncontrollably and Jay pushed himself forward before pulling you into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” you said in between sobs. “You’re exhausted and it’s my fault.”

“It’s not,” Jay spoke right into your ear as he comforted you, rubbing his hand on your back. “It’s not your fault. Trust me.”

You continued to sob against his shoulder, letting your tears stain his shirt. Jay stroked your hair gently, consoling you when you were the one who was supposed to comfort him. You were still sniffing when he pulled back to look at you.

The first time Jay saw you cry was also the first time he kissed you. After that, you had managed to conceal your feelings as best as you could, not wanting to spread the negativity to him. While the two of you were apart, all of your breakdowns happened in private, so the only time he saw you cry again was right now. It broke him too since this time he knew he was clearly the cause behind your tears. He was better at fighting back the urge to cry, though, because you did not even notice the way his eyes had reddened.

Jay’s fingers brushed against your chin. “This has nothing to do with work, okay? I should have taken better care of myself. It won’t happen again, so don’t worry.”

You wiped the tears off your face as you nodded, slowly breathing normally again. A single tear ran down your cheek and Jay wiped it away gently with his thumb.

“You can stop crying now,” Jay whispered, his hand remained on your cheek as he leaned in to kiss your nose and then your forehead. You closed your eyes and held his forearm as he continued to leave soft kisses around your face. When he kissed your jawline and lingered, he playfully bit you, eliciting a soft chuckle between your lips.

“You’re beautiful even when you cry. That seems unfair,” he protested. He pouted as you looked at him, mimicking your expression. You yanked his hand away from your face in retaliation.

The doorbell rang and you instinctively stood up. You told Jay to change his clothes as you went to grab the order that arrived. The vitamins and other pills that your doctor prescribed for Jay arrived at the same time, so it took you a while to prepare everything on a food tray to later carry to the bed.

Jay walked out of the bedroom in the shirt and shorts that you picked out for him, and he brushed his hair back as he sat by the counter. You took the tray and spun around, almost dropping everything to the floor since you didn’t hear him walk out.

“You can just set that here. I’ll eat with you,” he said, reaching out to grab the tray away from you.

“Jay.”

“Y/N.”

You had memorized the tone he would use to call your name when he was being dead serious. You sighed as you set his food back on the counter, pushing the tray towards him.

“Where’s yours?” He asked, lifting the spoon.

“I’ll eat later,” you said, turning your back to him to make tea.

“I should be honest with you.”

You turned around with frown on your face, questioning the meaning behind his statement. Jay massaged the bridge of his nose before he took a deep breath.

“I was skipping meals and not drinking enough water. That’s why I passed out. So if you’re thinking of pushing back your meal time, please don’t.”

You looked at him as the frown stayed on your face. “So you’re always telling me to eat while you’re not taking your own advice?”

Jay nodded, dunking the spoon into the bowl of porridge you had prepared for him. “That’s why I said it’s not your fault.”

You walked over to Jay and as he chewed his food, he spun his bar stool around to face you. You leaned in for a hug and he embraced you, all the while still shoving food into his mouth.

“I should hire a chef,” you mumbled into his shoulder.

“What did I say about being overkill?” He asked, dropping the spoon to rub your shoulders in an attempt to comfort you.

“Remember when you said you’d walk through fire for me?”

Jay put both his hands on your shoulders to pull you away from him. “Yeah?” He asked back, a puzzled look on his face.

“I’d walk through barbed wire for you,” you claimed, crossing your arms in front of your chest to make a statement.

Jay chuckled and almost choked on his own saliva. He aggressively placed both his hands on your cheeks and pulled you in to peck your lips.

---

It was a Saturday morning and you could vaguely remember Jay kissing you goodbye to leave for the gym. You had stayed up the whole night, talking to Isa and Yoon for more than six hours. Your loud laughing woke Jay up, and only then you realized the sun had come up. You continued to sleep for a couple more hours before waking up to have a light breakfast. After that, you turned on Netflix on your TV and lied down sideways on your sofa, watching a talk show that had been on your list for ages.

You heard the sound of rustling from the kitchen and you realized you had fallen asleep again. Jay’s back was facing you as he put the groceries into the fridge and some snacks into the kitchen cabinet.

“Hey,” your voice croaked as you stretched your arms and sat up.

“Hi, sleepyhead,” Jay smiled at you, putting away a shopping bag after he neatly folded it.

“When did you come home?” You asked, fixing your position on the sofa.

“Like, twenty minutes ago? I think. I didn’t want to wake you up. You seemed so tired when I left this morning.”

“Oh my God, what time is it now?”

Jay leaned by the counter and casually pointed to the clock on the wall. “Don’t worry, you still have a couple hours to get ready to go to the event.”

You sighed and rubbed your eyes. “You’re coming, right?”

Jay fiddled with a box of biscuits as he answered you. “Actually, love, I think I’m gonna stay in today. I overdid it at the gym and I’m just low on energy. I don’t want to be a burden. Is that okay?”

You shook your head and yawned. “It’s fine. Thanks for letting me know.”

“Okay,” Jay smiled at you again before turning his back to you, continuing his task.

“And you’re never a burden,” you continued. “Come on.”

Jay smiled really wide that you could see his cheeks rising up from behind. “I know,” he murmured.

“I need to go to the store to get the, uhm,” you snapped your fingers and scrunched your nose. “I forgot the name of the thing. I can’t think straight today.”

Jay crossed his arms as he leaned on the counter again to observe you. “Take your time.”

“I used to eat them for breakfast all the time, the cereal…”

“You mean Honey Stars?” Jay asked.

“Yes!” You beamed. “My mouth is watering just thinking about it.”

Jay reached into another shopping bag he had not gone through yet and pulled out a box of the cereal you wanted. “I got it for you already.”

“How did you know?” You brought yourself up with your knees and peered from your sofa like a meerkat.

“You’ve kind of randomly been mentioning them lately, so I figured you were craving them today,” Jay said, nonchalantly putting it away in one of the cabinets.

“I did.” You watched as Jay finished putting all of the groceries away. You then walked over to him and just as he turned around, you let him catch you in his arms. “Thank you.”

Jay kissed the side of your head and rubbed his hand on your back. “What time do you want to start getting ready? Do you have an outfit picked?”

You shook your head but tried your best to stay sniffing the crook of his neck. “I only know what color I want to wear. I’m thinking green.”

“Alright,” Jay spoke right into your ear and you realized how it had never failed to send shivers down your spine. “You can go shower and I’ll get your outfit ready.”

You ended up taking a shower longer than usual and when you got out of the bathroom with just a towel wrapped around your body, Jay was still picking out accessories for you. You eyed the dark green, strapless dress with an A-line skirt he had laid out on the bed and the open-toe heels sitting on the floor.

“You don’t have that many gold pieces, do you?” Jay asked as he rummaged through your jewelry box.

You chuckled as you walked to your vanity to open the drawer. You kept the pearl choker that Jay gave you in a separate box, and when you pulled it out, Jay followed the movements of your hands. Standing in front of the mirror and still covered in just a towel, you pushed your hair back and put on the necklace. You could see Jay gulping behind you and you flicked your hair once before turning around.

“The dress is strapless, so chokers work best. Right?”

You could feel the way Jay was undressing you with his eyes, knowing that the necklace probably brought back so many memories of the two of you in Greece. After a brief silence, you spun around and headed towards a different section in your wardrobe to get fresh underwear. You grabbed a black strapless bra and matching black panties, and as you tugged your towel to take it off, you felt Jay coming up behind you and snaking his arms around your waist.

In an instant, his lips were on your shoulder, leaving open mouthed kisses and leaving a wet trail as he made his way to your neck. His hands on your waist were gripping you so tight that you knew if you even uttered a word of complaint, it would be of no use. You sighed into his touch, your hands suddenly immobile as the grip on your towel was replaced by his fingers. With one slight tug, your towel pooled to your feet, and you could feel the heat of Jay’s hands against your body.

Jay touched you everywhere, grazing every surface of your skin and making sure not an inch of you was left ignored. He grabbed your breasts in his hands and gave it a squeeze before he ran his hands down your hips, all the while still devouring your neck and then kissing your cheek. He knew his ministrations were making you wet, so he wasn’t surprised when he palmed your core, eliciting a soft whimper from you as he smirked.

“You gotta let me have you before you go,” he whispered. “Please.”

You gave him an answer by turning around, cupping his face in your hands and letting his hands fall down to your ass. He squeezed you there and you chuckled, kissing his lips softly.

“Don’t make me late,” you mumbled, lips still grazing his.

Jay kissed your cheek roughly before he took your hand, leading you to the bed. When he climbed up the bed and lied down, you were puzzled. You tilted your head as you saw him get comfortable, lying down completely and letting his head hang over the edge of the bed. He was careful not to let his feet touch the pillows.

“Come here,” he invited. “Sit on your throne.”

“Are you…”

“Just please sit on my face.”

Jay’s position required you to stand close to the bed with your legs slightly open, and you were scared you couldn’t even stand up straight. After aligning your core with his mouth, you feel his hands gripping your thighs. Once he latched his mouth on to your cunt, it was over.

He started sucking, lapping, and kissing up your folds, making the lewdest noises echo throughout the room. You moaned as you felt the warmth of his tongue against your core, and the more he shoved it into you the more you craved for him. You began to grind your hips, creating a steady motion so he could easily slide his tongue up and down your slit, and once in a while in and out of you. Your whimpers and moans were also getting more obscene, and whenever Jay grunted into your bottom lips, the vibration made you roll your eyes back.

Your legs were shaking and Jay noticed it, reaching out one hand so you can intertwine your fingers with his for support. Your other hand traveled down your clit, touching yourself so you could reach your high faster, not wanting to put on too much weight on Jay. As you felt the knot build on your stomach, you struggled to get out the words, but Jay was quick to notice. He grabbed your thigh and squeezed it as he felt you clench and taint his mouth with your juices.

Jay held you up with both his hands on your thighs as he moved away from under you. As you tried to catch your breath, you felt Jay pulling you down to sit on the bed, and he made his way to kneel in front of you. You still looked dazed, drunk on the feeling of his pretty pink lips on your cunt, and when you saw his proud face—his chin wet and his lips forming a smirk—all you could do was caress his cheek.

You wiped the wetness from his chin as your breathing became normal. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?” You asked, referring to the event.

Jay chuckled, placing his hand over yours. “I’ll be waiting for you here, my queen.”

---

You came back home exactly four hours later, staggering inside as you closed the front door as gentle as you could. You bent over to take your heels off and almost tipped if only you didn’t stabilize yourself by placing a palm on the wall. Surprisingly, the oversized jacket that Jay lent you to cover up stayed on your shoulders the whole time.

“Babe?” Jay called out from the kitchen.

You heard soft sounds of cooking as you made your way to the source of the voice. You were met with Jay’s eyes and you could feel your cheeks flushing in an instant.

“How much did you drink?” He asked after quickly assessing the situation. He wiped his hand on a tea towel before making his way towards you, taking the jacket off.

You chose to answer with your lips, immediately latching your mouth on his as soon as he got close enough. He chuckled as he chucked the jacket away and placed his hands on your waist, guiding you to sit on the bar stool by the counter.

“That explains the behavior,” Jay said, more to himself after he licked his own lips. “I don’t know if you’re hungry but I’m making pasta.”

“Starving,” you muttered, hands reaching up to your own shoulders to hug yourself. You started to observe the way Jay was handling the cooking. He was wearing a cream-colored, long-sleeved tee, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He was also wearing his most used black dress pants that seemed to fit any theme of his outfit for the day. You assumed he went out to do something before coming back home. His hair was parted in a way that you liked, half pushed back while half his bangs almost covered one eye.

“How was the party?” Jay asked, his back turned towards you as he stirred the sauce in the pot.

“It was fun. I was with Taehyung most of the time,” you answered. You tapped your fingers on the counter and as you glanced upwards, you noticed how the lights were somehow shining too bright.

“Did anything interesting happen?”

You paused to think for a second before chuckling to yourself. Jay raised an eyebrow and glanced over his shoulder, waiting for you to answer.

“I got complimented on my scent,” you replied. “Whenever someone hugged me to greet me, they would ask ‘why do you smell like a man’?”

It dawned on Jay that the jacket he lent to you was drenched in his perfume and kept stored for quite some time in the wardrobe.

“My bad,” Jay said, smiling.

You shook your head even though he couldn’t see you. “I like smelling like you.”

Jay could not hold back the giddy smile that decorated his lips as he continued to cook. He turned to his right to grab the condiment rack and was met with your figure standing in the way.

“I can help,” you said, focusing your gaze on him and fluttering your eyelashes.

“Like what I’ve said a thousand times before,” Jay said with a low voice. He grabbed you by your shoulders and moved you three steps away to the side. “You’re a distraction.”

You pouted and decided to grab yourself a glass of water. You did not know exactly how, maybe you held it wrong because the next thing you know your favorite mug shattered to the floor and Jay almost slammed the pot he was holding back on the stove.

“My God, Y/N…”

He noticed that you hadn’t put on your house slippers, so he quickly picked you up by your waist and made you sit on the counter. You silently watched as he cleared the floor from the shards of glass and made sure he wasn’t stepping on any. Once he disposed the mess, he turned around to look at you and put his hands on his waist. The sight was so adorable that you started to laugh.

“How drunk are you?” Jay asked, genuinely concerned.

You shrugged, swaying your feet back and forth. “Just a little tipsy. Not so drunk that I will end up forgetting what I did tonight the next morning, though.”

“Are you throwing shade at me now?” Jay was now smirking. His chuckle expressed disbelief.

“I might be,” you said, smiling. “Can I get down now?” You pointed to the floor and pulled the skirt of your dress out of the way.

Jay nodded and immediately busied himself with his cooking again. You patiently waited at your seat, answering all his questions and watching as he cleared the stove and plated the food.

“Eat up,” he said, wiping his hands on the tea towel one last time.

You hopped off the stool and walked towards him, cornering him and making him lean back on the counter.

“Thank you,” you whispered as you rested your arms around his neck, pulling him towards you. “Have I told you how hot you look when you’re cooking?”

Jay laughed and rested one hand on your waist, the other playfully booping your nose. “You haven’t, but you can start saying it more often now.”

“How about I show you instead?”

Jay wasn’t even halfway into making a frown on his face when you placed your hand behind his head and kissed him. You did not waste any time building it up, immediately nibbling on his mouth and wrestling against his tongue. Jay furrowed his eyebrows as he let you dominate him, his hands hovering around your hips. When you stopped to catch your breath, Jay chased your lips and you stopped him by placing a finger over his mouth.

Like a reflex, he grabbed your hand and kissed your palm. You melted, immediately rewarding him with a kiss on his cheek before you got down on your knees. Jay was confused for the sudden loss of your touch, but when he felt you palm his crotch, he froze. You started undoing his pants, and he seemed so unsure about it that he grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“Y/N.”

You tutted and placed a finger in front of your own lips, telling him to shush. You then leaned in and placed your head right in front of his cock. You kissed it through his pants and you swore you could feel him shiver. As you pulled his pants and boxers down in one move, you grazed your fingers against his hardened dick, earning a soft grunt from him.

Your next move appeared to have caught him off guard. The way you licked a stripe up his shaft made him throw his head back, almost hitting it against the top cabinet. He warily placed one hand on the cabinet, unintentionally flexing his biceps, and it just made you thirst for him even more. Noticing that he could not get any harder, you pumped his cock with your hand twice before putting it in your mouth.

Jay let out a shaky breath as he felt your lips wrapped around him. He couldn’t even open his eyes, too scared that the slightest movement might disrupt the whole pleasure. You started bobbing your head up and down, licking and sucking him in all the right places. Your lipstick began to stain the base of his dick, and when he opened his eyes to look at you he almost cummed right then and there.

There you were, on your knees with his dick in your mouth. Your pearl choker was still decorating your pretty neck, and the strapless dress that Jay picked out for you earlier was still hugging your curves perfectly. He absolutely loved the way the skirt of your green dress pooled on the floor, showing the stark contrast of elegance and pure filth.

The tight bun you had on your head was now a messy ponytail, serving as the perfect place for Jay to put his hand. He became more and more relaxed once you found a steady pace, and he tangled his fingers in your hair as he followed your movements. You started making the sloppy sounds louder on purpose, and you knew that it was working by the way his grip tightened around your hair and how he was now pushing your head against his crotch, slowly gaining the power to lead.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “Fuck yes.”

Your hands were set on his thighs the whole time, so now that you sensed it was nearing the end, you slid your hands to his ass and squeezed him there, making him jerk his hips towards you. It almost made you gag, and to cope you raked your nails down his legs, letting him take the lead completely.

“I’m close,” he whispered. “Fuck, I…”

You stopped moving your head and let the warmth of his cum shoot into your mouth. You caressed his thighs lovingly as you waited for him to ride out his high, and once he was done you stood up with your cheeks full, limping towards the sink because one of your legs was asleep, before finally spitting his load out. You turned on the tap and rinsed your mouth a little before looking at Jay.

“I mean, I would swallow, but I’m working on an empty stomach and I just don’t want to--”

“It’s fine,” Jay said, seemingly already catching his breath. He pulled his boxers back up and buttoned his pants in an instant. “I’d love it if you’d give me a kiss, though.”

“Really?” You frowned, unsure.

Jay chuckled and pulled you into him, kissing your cheek aggressively before planting the softest peck on your lips. “Thank you,” he mumbled into your lips. “Are you still hungry?”

Your stomach rumbled before you could answer him and you both burst out laughing. He spun you around and slapped your ass before making you walk to the counter where your share of the pasta was no longer piping hot.

---

You were tidying up the books on your desk and putting them away to the shelves behind you. Hearing a knock on the door, you just waited until Jay entered the room. When you turned around, you saw that he was holding a garment bag over his shoulder.

“Your outfit change,” he explained without being asked. “For dinner with your parents tonight.”

You slammed the pen you were holding between your fingers to your desk. “That’s tonight?”

Jay nodded and hung your outfit behind the door. “Did I forget to remind you?”

Your phone flashed and showed the reminder for your dinner tonight. You then realized instead of setting the reminder for a day before, you set it for two hours before.

“Is it a bad time?” Jay asked after seeing your worried face.

You shook your head and sat back in your chair. “It’s okay. I just have a lot on my plate.”

“Let me.”

In a second, Jay was standing by your chair and listening intently to your instructions. You had your monitor showing a presentation, and your iPad open to a list of schedules and meetings with clients. After deeming that he was briefed enough, you handed over the iPad to him.

“Are you sure about this?” You asked.

Jay scoffed. “Please. Don’t worry about it. Just take your time getting ready and I’ll meet you there.”

“Okay,” you replied softly.

Jay leaned in to kiss the top of your head before gliding across the room and leaving you alone. He insisted on taking care of the rest of your work for the day because he knew how nervous you were when it came to meeting your parents. You sat on your desk for a while and zoned out until you heard two knocks on the door.

“Yes, Hwiyoung.”

Hwiyoung peeked into your room, not bothering to come all the way in. “Park said I should have your car ready in an hour. Just here to confirm.”

You gave Hwiyoung a firm nod and he replied by giving you the OK gesture with his hand.

---

Staring at your phone, your heels clicked as you shifted the weight in your feet. You were waiting for a reply from Jay, who had not responded to any of your text and calls for more than thirty minutes. The restaurant staff who greeted you by the door invited you to come inside and wait in the private room that Jay booked for you, but you insisted to stay at the lobby.

Eventually, you noticed a familiar car pulling up. You stood up and watched as your parents get out of the car, and before they could say anything else, you kissed your mother on the cheek and gave your father a side hug.

“Jay is in a meeting and he’s running late,” you explained. “Let’s just go inside.”

After the waiter escorted the three of you to your private room, you let your parents browse the menu for as long as they liked, thinking that it would buy you time and that you could actually wait for Jay to come before ordering. When they passed the menu to you, you saw the door slide open. Jay came in, slightly panting as he brushed his hair back. He greeted your parents and apologized repeatedly, claiming that the meeting he was in got extended and that he was caught in an unpredictable traffic jam.

Surprisingly, your mother beamed as soon as she saw Jay’s face. The way he was talking while keeping a smile on his face, and occasionally chuckling in between speeches, somehow made her heart melt. Your father just nodded along and avoided eye contact, and you were wondering if it was because it was the first time you had brought a boyfriend to meet your parents.

Jay secured his seat beside you and grabbed your hand that was resting on your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. You smiled at him before placing both your hands on the table. The dinner went on smoothly. You kept quiet most of the time because you were determined to just observe and let Jay lead the conversation, seeing how well he was able to converse with your parents. Your father and Jay found a similarity, and for a while it was the only thing they talked about, making your mother glance at you and raise her eyebrow. You grinned at her as a response.

The moment your mother found out Jay liked to cook, the mood completely shifted. She kept naming dishes and Jay admitted that he had attempted to cook most of them. The playful banter ended on the note that Jay was obliged to come over to your parents’ house and cook lunch for them. The idea made you chuckle, and you calmly continued to observe as the waiters cleared your table.

It was getting late, and you were the one who reminded everyone that tomorrow was not the weekend yet. Jay excused himself to the restrooms while you all wrapped up, and when your father asked for the check, the waiter mentioned that it had been taken care of. You walked your parents out to the lobby, where Jay joined you midway, and as soon as your parents left with their car, you abandoned good posture and immediately slouched.

Jay put an arm around your shoulders and brought you closer to his side, giving you the tightest hug. “Let’s go home,” he said, kissing your forehead.

---

“That went well, right?”

You glanced at Jay for a second but did not respond to his question. He frowned as he watched you walk straight to your bedroom.

“Was there a reason why you didn’t text me back?” You asked, letting your hair down after you took off your necklace.

“Like I said, the meeting ran late. I really didn’t get a chance to even look at my phone.” Jay followed you, loosening his tie and immediately unbuttoning his shirt.

“Did you at least wrap things up nicely at the meeting, or was it a mistake for me to send you? Because I know I could have ended it at least five minutes early.” You huffed as you reached out behind your back, struggling to unzip your dress. Jay was about to give you a hand when you finally managed to bring the zip down, instantly making your dress pool to the floor.

“I handled it. Don’t worry,” Jay said softly. “Is everything okay?” He asked as a follow up, noticing that your tone was unnecessarily mean.

You were in the middle of drenching a cotton pad with makeup remover, but Jay’s obnoxious question made you turn around. “You were late, Jay. You made my parents wait.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

“You could have texted.”

“I wasn’t in the right mind. Again, I’m sorry.”

You threw the cotton pad and your makeup remover back on your vanity and it made a loud sound. Jay frowned as he turned to face you. You leaned on the table, crossing your arms in front of you. Jay continued to undress until he was just in his pants, his belt half unbuckled.

“Why do you always give in?” You asked. You didn’t even bother changing to your bath robe. For some reason, you just had to pick a fight right now, in your underwear, after an arguably pleasant dinner.

“What do you mean by that?” Jay decided to sit on the ottoman by your bed, leaning forward and clasping his hands together.

“And you always do this too,” you sighed, starting to feel even more frustrated. “I complain about one thing and your immediate reaction is to apologize at least three times. I say one sentence and you ask me to define it, as if you didn’t understand me the first time. Do I really have to be spelling it out for you?”

“What would you rather have me do?”

You let out a single chuckle. Your mouth stayed agape as you could not believe that Jay did exactly what you just said he should not be doing. “Stop that,” you demanded. “Stop asking me everything and just do.”

Jay sighed before standing up and walking away. You only caught his movements through the reflection on your mirror, and you thought he was going to walk past you to go to the bathroom. He suddenly grabbed your wrist, making you drop whatever you were holding, and with one swift move he had your back against the wall, cornering you with one arm beside your head and his other hand firmly planted on your waist.

“Throwing a fit when you’re just wearing the lingerie I gifted you is not helping,” he spoke in a whisper, lips just inches away from yours. “I said I’m sorry, and I mean it. But if you’re not going to take it then let me just do.”

Hearing your exact words repeated back to you had an effect that you could not quite comprehend. The way you could feel the heat of his body against your skin, his eyes digging into yours, combined with his lips carefully grazing your chin—you instantly became a hot mess. His nails dug into your skin as he kissed you absolutely everywhere but your lips. Your neck became his blank canvas as he aggressively sucked your most sensitive spots, eliciting needy moans from your lips. You moved to grab his neck, but he yanked your hand away and pinned it above your head.

You whined in his ear as he continued to nibble on your neck, and as your other hand found its way to his belt, he was quick to pin it above your head too. Both your wrists were held up with his one hand, and he kept his other hand occupied by massaging your breast, alternating between the two.

“Jay…” you whispered, pressing your legs together.

Hearing you call his name made him press his body against yours a little harder, and you almost yelped when you felt his hardened cock pressing against your core. You were helpless, still having your hands pinned above your head, so all you could do was grind your hips against him. He hissed and placed an open mouth kiss on your cheek, even licking a stripe from there to your ear.

“Be a good girl and do as I say, will you?”

His deep voice almost vibrated within you and you could only muster a slight nod as a response. He let go of your wrists only to unbuckle his pants completely and pulling your panties to the side. Your hands rested weakly on his shoulder, and you took the time to observe his face.

You loved this man. You would do anything for him, and you would let him do anything to you.

You felt the tip of his throbbing dick graze your folds and you closed your eyes, indulging in the feeling. You were already soaking wet from the extensive ministration that Jay did on your neck and breasts, so when he slid his length into you he did not need to struggle. Your tight walls welcomed him warmly, and he clenched his jaw as he felt you wrap around him completely.

“Kiss me,” he whispered.

You pulled him by his neck and smashed your lips onto his. At the same time, he thrusted into you, lifting you up against the wall and hooking your thighs on his arms. You moaned into his mouth as you start to feel him pound into you, purposefully making your back hit the wall with each thrust.

“Wrap your legs around me and stay there,” he said after pausing to adjust your position.

You did exactly as he said and he took your hands away from his neck, pinning them above your head again. With your legs secured around his waist and his other hand digging into the flesh of your hips, he found a way to thrust into you even harder. You whimpered and bit your bottom lip, overwhelmed by the sensation.

“Don’t hold back,” he demanded in between thrusts. “Sing for me.”

Jay moved his hand and grabbed your thigh, keeping you steady as he pulled out completely. Your eyes fluttered open, wondering why your hole was clenching around nothing, and when Jay slid back into you with a force, you gasped and moaned so loud, throwing your head back and hitting it against the wall.

“That’s it,” he smirked, kissing your jawline. “That’s how loud I want you to be.”

Knowing that his moves were driving you mad, Jay let you rest your hands on his shoulder. Your fingers got tangled in his hair in an instant, and you had no reason to hold back the sinful moans and whimpers that your boyfriend was causing.

“Pull my hair, baby,” Jay muttered. He then latched his mouth on your boob as you did so, groaning against your flesh. Curses left your lips as you felt him suck hard, letting go of your nipple with a soft smacking sound and leaving trails of saliva around your chest.

Jay noticed that your grip was weakening, and you started frantically moving your hands around his neck and shoulders before finally resting on his biceps for support. He knew you were close so he continued to fuck you until your moans reached a familiar, higher pitch. You creamed on his cock without a warning and he smiled at you, kissing your cheek and whispering praises in your ear.

“That’s my girl,” he chuckled. His thrusts were getting sloppier and you were aware he was getting tired. You unhooked your feet around him and let him place you on the ground again, pulling out of you. “Take my cum, will you?”

Having regained enough strength, you immediately kneeled in front of him, taking his cock in your mouth as he guided it to you. With just a couple of strokes and a good suck, he groaned as he came in your throat. You felt the warmth coat your insides as you swallowed it all, not missing even one drip from his cock. You licked him clean and let him go with a pop before pulling away, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

Jay was catching his breath when he looked down at you, still kneeling in front of him as if you were waiting for the next instruction. He chuckled breathlessly as he moved to grab you by the hands, making you stand up and face him. You look into his eyes with the most lustful and adoring gaze, and without saying anything else he kissed your lips, pulling you into a warm embrace.

---

You were huddled in a small meeting room with three of your executives, discussing a new project that you came up with. The meeting went on for a couple of hours, and if it weren’t for a knock on the door you would have went on.

“Boss,” Jay greeted you in a low voice.

“Do I have somewhere else I have to be?” You asked, checking the time on the watch. “Shit. Okay, we’ll continue this meeting later. Thanks, guys.”

The sound of feet shuffling filled the room until it was just silence. Jay watched as the people left while you tidied up your belongings before standing up.

“So is it on?” Jay asked, pulling your chair back for you. “The L/N Tech Awards.”

You took a deep breath before exhaling, craning your neck from the prolonged period of sitting. “It’s gonna be tough.”

“Why? Because the people in power think education is not important?” Jay noticed the projector was still plugged in and walked over to turn it off.

When you first proposed the idea of financially supporting your staff who wanted to pursue higher education, Jay was quick to agree with you. He even came up with a proposal, and went on to consult your CFO if the idea was possible. It was a noble gesture, but as it turned out, it was definitely not an easy task to execute.

“We’ll talk later,” you replied, checking your phone for notifications. “What’s my next schedule?”

“Your usual pampering session at the Dandelions,” Jay said as he scanned the iPad in his hands with his eyes.

“Are you serious?”

Jay shrugged. “It’s Friday. It’s the middle of the month. It’s your routine.”

You really thought you had an important meeting you had to attend when Jay came inside the room, but you were grateful that he stopped the session when he needed to, meaning that he was putting yourself first.

“Thank you,” you said to him, walking to the door. “I’ll see you at home?”

Jay nodded and smiled at you, and you decided to walk up to him and plant a chaste kiss on his cheek before leaving. The way he smiled so wide it caused creases in his eyes made you laugh.

---

Having your two best friends in town for the weekend was a once in a blue moon thing, and to make sure that you make the most of your time with them, Jay excused himself to go on an overnight trip with his parents to visit his relatives in another city. You picked up Isa and Yoon at their hotel, and the younger Mr. Lee was the one on duty tonight.

“Miss,” Heeseung nodded at Isa, who volunteered to ride shotgun so not to crowd the backseat.

“Before you try anything funny,” you said, tapping Heeseung on the shoulder. He looked at you through the rear view mirror. “She has a boyfriend.”

Heeseung chuckled and saluted you through the mirror. The ride to Taehyung’s jazz club felt so short since the three of you were talking nonstop. Heeseung even took the liberty to turn down the volume of the radio so you all could hear each other better. The second you reached the club, Isa and Yoon practically jumped out of the car, leaving you fumbling for your purse.

“We’re taking the girls back to their hotel after this,” you announced, leaning forward. “I’ll call you when we’re done? It’ll probably just be a couple hours.”

“Sure.” Heeseung smiled. “Do you mind if I just take your car for a spin?”

“Yeah, do that.” You finally opened the door and got out of the car. You then leaned to the driver’s window. “Don’t do it if you’re sleepy, though.”

Heeseung saluted you again and you swatted his hand off his face. He laughed out loud before rolling up the window and you turned to find your two friends waiting impatiently by the entrance. You walked towards them and they immediately took you by your arms on both your sides as you all entered the jazz club.

You were greeted with live music playing softly, and you could hear the chatter from the people who were sitting at different tables. Isa and Yoon immediately made their way to the bar as you scanned the room, hoping to see your friend, and your mouth curved into a smile when you saw Taehyung waving at you from the table closest to the stage.

Seeing that your friends were content with the drinks they ordered, you walked to meet Taehyung halfway and greeted him with a short hug.

“So nice to see you again, Noona,” he said, not waiting until he let go of your embrace.

You rubbed your hands along his shoulders like you were a mom seeing her son after a long time. “Glad to see you’re doing fine. I brought my friends here with me.”

Turning around and pointing to your friends with your chin, you watched as Isa and Yoon raised their glass to Taehyung, to which Taehyung charmingly replied with a gentle wave and a firm nod.

“Are you with anyone?” You asked as you glanced over at his table, noticing there were about five guys huddled around it.

“Yeah, I should probably tell you,” Taehyung cleared his throat. He then looked around like he was searching for someone.

“If it isn’t Miss L/N…”

Before turning to face the person behind you, you looked at Taehyung with widened eyes. He, in response, sucked the air between his teeth and gave you an apologetic smile. You spun around and of course your ex, who was also one of Taehyung’s closest friends, was the one standing in front of you.

“Mr. Kim.” You forced the politest smile on your face. You almost forgot how tall he was, having not seen him in years. Calling each other by your last names was a thing that didn’t seem to wear off with time.

He leaned in to greet you, and at first you thought he was just going to hug you like Taehyung did, but he kissed your cheek ever so lightly and you had to fight yourself from flinching. You could feel, and hear, Taehyung slowly backing away from the two of you.

“I’d ask how you are, but I know you hate that question,” Namjoon chuckled after finishing his sentence. He then briefly eyed your outfit before smiling. “You look good.”

You wonder why your appearance was always the first thing your exes would comment on whenever they bump into you. But then again, you realized it was the safest topic for small talk. You quickly assessed Namjoon’s outfit before returning the compliment. He was wearing all black, a turtleneck paired with dress pants, and a belt with gold details that matched his watch. You didn’t get a chance to eye his shoes, though.

“You too,” you replied, keeping things brief. You looked over at your friends in a desperate need to find an excuse to leave, but they were too preoccupied with their phones and talking to each other that they did not even notice you were face-to-face with the ex that you, arguably, couldn’t stand the most.

“I assume everything’s going well? With the company, I mean,” Namjoon spoke in a certain calmness that was somehow bothering you.

“Yes, as you can see I am still alive and not stressed,” you said, gesturing to your face. You were so proud of the makeup and hairdo that you just did and in your mind you were cursing yourself because Namjoon was the one who gets to see it, and not Jay. “I guess the gang is still going strong.”

You questioned your own choice of words as you looked at the table of six people, with Taehyung rejoining the group. Namjoon smiled fondly at his friends before looking back at you.

“Some of us have been busy here and there but we get together once in a while. Luckily Tae opened this club so we have a proper basecamp now.”

You chuckled at the comment and took a moment to listen to the live music. It created the sweetest and warmest atmosphere and you slightly feel guilty for enjoying yourself without Jay around.

“Did you come alone?”

“No.”

You were almost stunned by how fast you responded to Namjoon’s question. He blinked for a second, obviously taken aback, but then he followed your gesture and saw the two friends you were pointing at. The corners of his mouth turned upwards, looking relieved.

“Well, I don’t want to intrude on your quality time,” he said, putting a hand on his chest and smoothing his outfit down. “I’ll see you around.”

You merely smiled as you let him walk back towards his table. You quickly regained yourself and safely found your place between your two friends.

“Was that just…” Isa squinted her eyes, focusing her gaze on Taehyung’s table.

“Were you talking to Namjoon?” Yoon asked, lowering her voice.

“Stop staring!” You half-whispered, half-screamed. The two of them quickly shot their heads back to face you. They couldn’t make out the expression you were making. Heck, you couldn’t even identify the emotion you were feeling.

“He looks good,” Isa said, still staring from the corner of her eyes. Yoon smacked her arm and she winced. “What? I’m just saying.”

“He does seem to be oozing a lot more confidence than usual, huh?” You toyed with Yoon’s glass, making her order a new drink for you. “Do you think he’s already dating someone new?”

“Why would you care?” Yoon asked you back. “Did you tell him about Jay?”

Your hands froze as you were unable to answer Yoon right away. Jay was constantly there on the back of your mind, yet you never got the chance to mention his name. Great, you thought. You once gave Jay a whole lecture about how men never mentioned having a girlfriend until they were asked, and now you were one of those men.

“What am I supposed to do now?” Your voice sounded unsure. For the first time in forever, you wavered.

“Pray and hope you don’t talk to him ever again,” Isa stated, shrugging as she chugged down her drink. “This is a great song.”

Isa was referring to the live music that had shifted into something more upbeat. People started gathering at the dance floor, gently swaying to the sound of the instruments playing.

“Let’s go do what we’re here for,” Yoon said, reaching out a hand to both you and Isa. “Have fun.”

Isa took Yoon’s hand but you didn’t. They both looked at you questionably before you shook your head.

“You girls go.” You smiled at them reassuringly. “I’m just gonna text Jay for a bit.”

Isa pouted at you and Yoon mouthed okay before dragging Isa to the gathering crowd. You swiftly took your phone out of your handbag and unlocked your phone. In the middle of texting, you felt a figure approaching you. You thought it was Yoon who came back to grab her half empty drink, but as you turned to face the person, you lost your balance and almost fell from the stool.

“Shit,” Namjoon grabbed your elbow, supporting it with his own arm. “Please be careful.”

Not again.

You wanted to be the one who started the conversation and steer the topic to the right direction, but Namjoon was just too eager to say whatever was on his mind, so all you could do was listen.

“Listen,” Namjoon cleared his throat. “I know you probably don’t want to have anything to do with me anymore, and that this conversation might seem like a nightmare to you, but I just want you to know that I’m sorry. For making it seem like you were the bitch in our story, when in fact it was me.”

You frowned as you looked at Namjoon. He was avoiding eye contact. He chuckled as he brushed his thumb over his lips nervously, looking away and just staring into the distance.

“I know it seems like a long shot, but I would just love to stay friends with you.” Namjoon fixed his posture before finally regaining the courage to look you in the eyes. “Even better, if you’d give me a second chance.”

You let out a single chuckle, not believing what you were hearing. To be brutally honest, and hoping no one would ever know, when you saw him minutes ago as he popped up behind you, you felt like you were looking at someone else. It was Namjoon, still, but there was this sense of… you did not even know how to put it into words. You were just certain that it was bothering you, and it made you feel guilty. Was he becoming attractive again in your eyes?

“Oh, Joon,” you finally responded, shaking your head. “I have a boyfriend.”

Namjoon stared at you for so long that you were getting concerned because he wasn’t blinking. “You do?” His voice almost came out like a squeak.

You laughed and picked up your phone, showing your lock screen. It was a picture of you and Jay in Mykonos, standing in front of the café that gave you a free drink. In the picture, you had your arms wrapped tightly around Jay’s waist as his arm was resting around your shoulder, his face leaning in to give you a kiss on your temple. It was a full shot of the two of you because it was the owner of the café who took it.

“Well that was fucking embarrassing.” Namjoon sat on the bar stool beside you, facing the bar and burying his face in both his hands. You felt bad but you still laughed at him, patting his shoulder in an attempt to console him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“How could you?” You shrugged, turning to face the bar too so he wouldn’t feel to exposed if you faced him.

“You never post about him on Instagram.”

“You check my Instagram? I thought I blocked you everywhere?”

Namjoon fell silent for a while and you chuckled again. He then groaned and you found it best to just keep your laughter silent.

“I only follow a few people on Instagram on my private account. You know that,” Namjoon said, finally defending himself. You nodded at his statement.

“Well, I don’t post about him because…” Your voice trailed off. You had to think of the real reason why you had not been posting about Jay on any of your socials. Was it because you wanted to gatekeep him? Was it because you wanted people to think you were still single? Were you a bitch either way for doing so?

“I get it,” Namjoon cut you off. “Some people don’t like seeing other people happy, and I get it if you want to just gatekeep your happiness. I just wish you would have stopped me when I was in the middle of my speech.”

You laughed silently again, gently punching him on the shoulder. He laughed with you, wrinkles forming in the corners of his eyes.

“So who’s the lucky guy?” Namjoon asked. This time he was brave enough to look at you.

You smiled to yourself as you looked at your phone. “His name is Jay and he makes me very, very happy.”

The way your face beamed just by thinking of him was very apparent to Namjoon that you were indeed feeling the most content. His hand lay flat on the bar as he thought hard of the next words he was supposed to say.

“Well, if you’re happy then I’m happy for you too,” he declared, still looking at you. “Truly.”

You finally looked back at him and caught the way his stare was so sincere.

“Thank you,” you replied, smiling back at him.

You turned to face the dancefloor and spotted Isa and Yoon just swaying side to side, enjoying the music and taking photos of each other. You smiled as you take your phone and aim it at them, capturing the moment for them to look at later on. As much as you wanted to join in the fun, your heart suddenly ached for Jay, wishing that he was the one keeping you company and sitting beside you.

-END-

© forjongseong 2022, all rights reserved

another author’s note: another cameo surprise, this time by yours truly, leader of the world Mr. Kim Namjoon (lol) he is, in fact, the famous ex mentioned back in part 2. will he appear in more parts? only time will tell.

read the next chapter: falling autumn

#writtenbynana #fic: aeropuerto #enhypen #jay #enhypen jay #jay enhypen #enhypen smut #enhypen jay smut #jay smut #enhypen hard hours #jay hard hours #park jay #jay park #jongseong #park jongseong #jongseong park #nana secretary!jay agenda #Spotify

[cinycesum-fan]

Levi's monologue when he was beating the shit out of eren

I can't believe it. I mean, really, can you? It's like a twisted, messed-up joke that humanity's last hope is pinned on a group of bumbling, power-hungry, so-called leaders. These guys couldn't even lead a donkey to water without getting lost in the desert...

And don't get me started on the Yeager brat. Ugly as a Titan's backside, but they want to barbecue him like he's the main course at a Titan buffet. The poor brat is scared out of his mind, stuttering like a broken record, begging for his life every few seconds. Newsflash, brat: nobody understands you when you're gagged. It's like trying to have a deep philosophical debate with a brick wall.

Nile Dok, the shining beacon of all that is pig-headed and self-important. Head of the Military Police, they call him. But from where I'm standing, he's the grand poobah of all things nonsensical. And let's not forget Nick, the Minister Shitface, holding the prestigious title of vice-judge. It's like a match made in heaven – two peas in a pod of bureaucratic incompetence.

Erwin, on the other hand, well, he's got his own history with Dok. Something about stealing Erwin's girl, Marie, way back when. The details aren't clear, but you can bet your boots that it's a festering wound that still stings. You see, Eyebrows may look as calm as a tranquil lake, but beneath that serene exterior, there's a storm brewing.

Minister Nick and his never-ending religious sermons. He's all about that Walls mumbo-jumbo, but honestly, I've got more important things to do, like keeping your sorry butts alive in this Titan-infested world. If I did give a damn about religion, I'd want a better spokesperson than this guy. I mean, really, it's like having a dung beetle as your life coach. Nick's "inspirational" speeches would put even the most dedicated insomniac to sleep. But hey, maybe that's the secret to his survival – bore the Titans to tears. While he's preaching about the great beyond, I'm out here in the real world, making sure you have a future to even worry about.

If there's a heaven, hell, or purgatory, I hope they've got better entertainment than this holy bore. Dok's playing puppet master to Zackly, and it's a damn puppet show I'm not willing to watch any longer. The clock's ticking, and I can't let this charade continue. The jury needs a reality check before Dok's nonsense becomes law.

Erwin, my partner in crime, gives me that unspoken signal, and it's like we share the same damn brain. Twins, they call us, and they might be right. But let's get one thing straight – I got the looks, and I've got the, well, length, if you catch my drift.

It's time to step up, cut through the crap, and bring some order to this chaotic world. Because if there's one thing we don't need, it's more clowns in this circus of despair. It's time for the Survey Corps to do what we do best – kick some Titan ass and take names.

It's a damn shame that I have to resort to beating the living daylights out of Eren Yeager to make a point. But let me tell you, it's like a twisted kind of therapy for me. The kid's got a hair-trigger temper, and it doesn't take much to set him off. I mean, everything makes him lose his marbles.

You'd think we were living in a world where Titans are the least of our worries, with the way Eren goes ballistic over the smallest things. It's like he's got a personal grudge against serenity. But hey, if my fists can knock some sense into him, then I'll gladly be the bad guy. In this world, losing your cool can get you killed, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep this circus from turning into a bloody tragedy.

Mikasa, the black-haired girl, can't seem to stop gushing over "Ereh!" like she's some kind of Titan-slaying goddess. The way she clings to that Titan-spitface is almost comical. Kid's got herself a full-blown crush on Mr. Yeager.

And sure, I've heard it before, that Mikasa Ackerman looks a bit like me, despite us having zero ties. But let's get one thing straight – I'd rather be related to a sack of potatoes than be associated with a brat who's obsessed with Eren.

I'm not one to toot my own horn, but between her and me, I'm the hotter one in this messed-up circus. Beauty might not save the world, but it sure beats being infatuated with a Titan-transforming teenager.

It's not the stench of their porky existence that gets to me, although that's a close second. No, it's the fear that I feed on, thrive on, and let me tell you, it's a feast.

Dok and Minister Nick are probably soaking their pants, and also shitting right about now, knowing that in my mind's eye, I'm picturing them in Yeager's shoes. There's something satisfying about watching them squirm, knowing that their day of judgment might be just around the corner. It's like a sweet symphony, and I'm the conductor, orchestrating their fear, one crescendo at a time. This world is a savage playground, and I'm the merciless player.

Wait shit, was that a spit and blood covered tooth? Holy hell, it doesn't matter. I need to pull back. Just one more kick.

Okay, maybe one more for good measure. Can't leave things unfinished, right?

And one last one, just to make sure things are nice and tidy. It's not often I get to let loose like this, so might as well enjoy it while it lasts. Another kick for the sake of, well, cleanliness.

TLDR: Shipping between Levi and Eren won't be tolerated, it's disgusting.

#levi aot #levi ackerman #levi #rivaille heichou #rivaille ackerman #eren yeager #eren jaeger #aot erwin #erwin smith #erwin #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #shitpost #funny #sarcastic #sarcasm #dry humor #anime #manga #aot #cinycesum-fan-stuffs