#And then remembered the check engine light just came on in the car

[emma23]

Driving lessons with Moon knight:

Moon knight boys x reader

If you’d like to support me, check this out 💕

https://ko-fi.com/settings?tab=profile

The soft hum of the car engine barely covered the awkward silence as you shifted in the driver’s seat. Marc sat in the passenger seat, arms crossed, his expression as unreadable as ever. He had offered to give you driving lessons—well, you had made him offer, after pretending you didn’t know how to drive. It was all part of your grand plan to spend more time with him, given how much he had been juggling with Khonshu’s missions and the whole "shared body" situation with Steven and Jake.

You twirled your fingers on the steering wheel, looking more like someone playing a game of pretend than actually trying to drive. The crisp afternoon light bathed the car, but inside, it felt like the sun had set ages ago with the tension. You glanced sideways at Marc, your stomach flipping. Maybe you had pushed it a little too far this time.

“Alright, let’s go over this again,” Marc said, his deep voice pulling you out of your thoughts. “First, adjust the mirrors. Then, check your surroundings before pulling out.”

You nodded, squinting at the rearview mirror. But instead of checking for traffic, you ran a quick hand through your hair and touched up your lipstick. Marc’s eyes narrowed, noticing immediately.

“Y/n,” he sighed, “are you seriously—?”

“What?” You blinked innocently, fluttering your lashes at him. “I checked my makeup, I’m good.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. “You check the mirrors to make sure no one is behind or beside you, not to reapply your lipstick.”

You stifled a laugh but shrugged. “Multitasking?”

His eyes narrowed even more, the kind of look that meant business. You were tempted to play dumb for just a bit longer, but you knew pushing Marc was like poking a bear. And bears had claws. Marc Spector’s claws weren’t far from the surface either.

"Y/n, I know you can drive." His voice was deadpan, and you nearly choked on your own breath.

"What?" You gawked at him, but the sheepish grin tugging at the corner of your lips betrayed your act. "No, I—"

"Don’t even try it," he cut in, leaning back in the seat, clearly unimpressed. "Steven’s seen you drive before. Jake’s seen you too. Hell, even I saw you last week when you thought no one was watching."

You bit your lip. Damn it, of course they would remember. "I mean, you guys are always busy. Can’t a girl want some attention?"

Marc sighed again, though this time there was a hint of amusement in his exhale. "You didn’t have to pretend you couldn’t drive for that."

You shrugged. "Worked, didn’t it?"

He shook his head, but there was a smirk playing on his lips now. “You’re unbelievable.”

A sudden shift made you realize someone else had taken over. Steven’s softer voice broke the air. “Love, if you wanted to spend time with us, you could’ve just asked nicely. No need to pretend to be hopeless behind the wheel.” His British accent still had a way of making you smile, especially when he looked at you with those wide, earnest eyes.

“Okay, okay, guilty as charged,” you admitted, finally throwing in the towel. “I just wanted some one-on-one time with you guys.”

Steven’s gaze softened. “That’s rather sweet, actually.”

“Well, if you’re gonna play like that,” came another voice—gruffer, heavier. Jake. “Maybe we should teach you something else in the car, cariño.”

You rolled your eyes, cheeks flushing despite yourself. Jake had a way of turning even the simplest moments into something more intense. His smirk sent a shiver down your spine, the heat between you two suddenly palpable in the confined space of the car.

Marc’s voice interrupted your thoughts as he came back into control. “Jake, focus. We’re here to teach her how to drive.”

“Pretty sure she already knows,” Jake retorted, his tone thick with implication. “Maybe we skip the driving and go straight to—”

You cut him off with a playful punch to Marc’s arm, knowing Jake was still listening. “I think I’m done with the ‘lessons’ for today.”

Marc looked at you with raised eyebrows. “You sure?”

“Yep,” you popped the ‘p,’ unbuckling your seatbelt. “But thanks for the...attention, guys.”

You got out of the car, feeling the weight of their collective gaze as you walked back toward the apartment. You had barely made it halfway before you felt Marc’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back against him.

"Not so fast," he murmured in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "You started this game, now you’re gonna finish it."

A heated exchange followed, the tension bubbling over as the playful banter turned into something more intimate. Marc, Jake, and Steven—each of them surfaced during the passionate moments, a shared intensity fueling the fire between you all. The confined space of the car seemed to shrink with each passing second, your body pressed against Marc’s as you navigated the tangled web of their personalities, feeling each of them come through in different ways.

Hours later, as you lay entangled together, Jake’s voice broke the silence. “So, what’s next? Flying lessons?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation catching up with you. "Yeah, sure. Maybe I’ll pretend I don’t know how to walk next time."

Marc chuckled lowly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

And with that, the tension melted away into comfortable laughter, the trio—Marc, Steven, and Jake—all settling into the quiet rhythm of your shared life. A little chaos, a little humor, but always...together.

[steddie-island]

[bunnyhugs77]

Driven 2 U

Pairing: Rich! Reader x Mechanic! Jungkook

Word Count: 5.2k

Notes: am i back from the dead??

Content Warning: reader is a bit spoiled but she can't help it!, ft manager! yoongi, jk is so whipped, fluff, car troubles, reader is a bad driver, kissing, witty jk, some smut, pining, mentionsn of ex boyfriends, dirty hands, flowers, reader is a bit oblivious, mention of death, jungkook is delusional just like us.

Other Content: making out, late-night rendezvous, choking, semi-public sex, they're both so desperate, marking, soft dom! jk, light hair pulling, oral sex (f! receiving), cute conversations in between, praise.

The sun beamed down gently between the spaces of the clouds that littered the otherwise bright blue sky. Your Chanel sunglasses framed your face perfectly and your arm rested on the ledge of the window as you steered with the other. The air was sweeter, the flowers were in full bloom and the grass seemed greener.

The world always seemed so much more colourful when you had a hair appointment ahead of you. "I swear this is your third hair appointment this month." Yerin's voice rings through your aux, judgy as always, but you love her for it. She's been your best friend since you could walk, if anyone was gonna call you out it was gonna be her--it could only be her. You didn't listen to anyone else.

Especially not your overprotective dad, who kept nagging you to get your engine checked since that little light kept flashing at you. You didn't see the point. You thought of yourself as a pretty good driver even though all of your passengers often fled the moment you parked, swearing to never get in a car with you again, but they always came back.

"Yeah? What's your point? These roots aren't gonna touch up themselves." Your car began to jolt, "Uhh-" You trailed off, looking down to your dashboard and scanning for a source of the issue, "What?" Yerin asks and you quickly begin to lose speed. \

Turning on your four-ways you begin to pull over on the side of the road, "My engine light is flashing red and there's smoke coming out from my hood, is that bad?" Yerin doesn't say anything, there's silence in the car until she exhales, "You need to take your car to a mechanic like yesterday."

"-But I can't take it to Wheely's, that's where Jae used to take me whenever my car needed work." This time Yerin made sure you could hear her distress with an extra long sigh, "You guys broke up almost 6 months ago, I doubt they remember you. It's not like they'll refuse service because you broke up with one of their customers."

"Okay fine. You're lucky it's close, I'll just drive-" Before your hand could even make contact with the clutch, you're interrupted by a shout, "Do not even think about moving that car, Y/n. You'll completely kill the engine. Just call a tow truck. As a matter of fact, I'll call one for you."

That brings you to where you are right now. The passenger seat of a high-rimmed tow truck with a rugged driver. He seemed miserable to you at first, hooking your car up with a lot of grunts and 'tsks' slipping through clenched teeth until he really looked at you, eyes looking you up then down, taking in your very wealthy attire.

Suddenly small talk and friendly conversation were being made. With a rocky abruption, you bounced in your seat as the truck pulled into the back alley of the shop where there were lots of other damaged cars sitting around.

You thanked him and tipped him one hundred dollars. You clearly had no general comprehension of the value of a dollar, not when it comes to tipping at least.

You stood off to the side of the open garage, against the wall, waiting for the driver to come back after he'd gone inside to notify the mechanics that your car would need to be manually rolled in.

"You're still rolling in this piece of junk, Scooter?" A voice catches your attention two more men walk out of the garage alongside the driver. It seems the driver was known as Scooter around here though you doubt that's his real name.

"Hey, you better watch it, ol'Ruby here may be a bit aged but she's got character." Scooter taps the hood of the rusty pick-up truck while the two men stand in front of him with their arms crossed, one with mint hair and the other with dark locks; both of their backs facing you, yet to notice you were standing there.

"A bit aged? I'm certain Julius Cesar could identify it." The mint-haired man jokes and the brunette laughs while Scooter rolls his eyes.

Scooter waves you over, cueing the two men to look over their shoulders, a bit shocked they hadn't noticed you standing there earlier. "This is Yoongi and Jungkook, they'll be overseeing your repairs." They finally turned and Yoongi hardly got a full glance at you before his gaze was fixated on the man beside him who couldn't look away.

Unsure if your mind was playing tricks on you but you're fairly certain you'd seen them both before. Maybe not for long as you'd only ever been at the mechanics for a few short moments while Jae dropped off your car and switched into his.

Eyes wide and alert, you resembled a deer in headlights, unable to hold the soft gaze that was being sent your way. "Don't worry, you're in good hands," Yoongi reassures while Scooter gets back in his truck and pulls out.

"We need to roll it in, Jungkook and I are going to push from behind the car. Do you mind getting in the front and just steering to make sure to aim for the inside of the garage? Try to get it between the two pylons." Yoongie points into the garage where there are two markers a few meters apart.

Agreeing, you're just about to get back into the front seat when your phone rings. Both men were already in position, strong arms bracing the trunk and hunched over slightly, legs split apart, ready to bear the force back into the ground with each push, but you answered the phone instead.

Yoongi's brow arched while Jungkook just watched you.

"Y/n speaking."

It was your hairdresser, calling to see if you were still on your way as expected. Your heart sunk, you'd nearly forgotten ever since your car committed suicide and then Yerin was yelling at you.

"I'm so sorry- my car broke down and--" The boys listen intently, nosey as always. It wasn't often they had someone so interesting stroll into their quarters in the middle of the week.

"Yes, I know you're very busy and I would never want to waste your time--" You start but she interrupts you again. "No! Please don't put me on the waitlist I'll be there. I'm coming!" Hastily you get into the driver's seat and steer it in with the guys pushing behind you.

You got out nervously panicking, scrolling through all your contacts for someone to give you a ride. "Something wrong?" Jungkook couldn't help himself. He had to ask, even though he knew the answer.

"I have a hair appointment and she'd booked through for the next three months and if I'm not there in the next 15 minutes she's giving my spot away." Jungkook just stood there, while Yoongi worked on elevating the car.

Not a thought behind his eyes at your worries. You were in your own world for that to be your biggest concern but he tried to understand. "Why not get a Lyft?"

"Ew," Your hand clasps over your mouth almost immediately. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that--or to offend you-" Now Jungkook seemed taken aback, "Why would that offend me?" Your mouth gapes open like a fish before finally shutting.

"I'm just saying, the choice is yours. You can either get a Lyft or call the b-b-bus." He puts on a horrified expression as he chops up the last word to get it through to you. The result on your face was priceless.

"How about you give me a ride? I'll pay you." He stills, straightening his posture while his brows contorted, evidently confused. Even though Yoongi was on the opposite side of the car, crouched down on one knee, he too was confused. That wasn't an option. Jungkook is in full uniform, on the clock.

Does he get ahead of himself sometimes? Yes. The kid's got a big heart but he's not crazy, there's no way he would- "I'll get my keys." Yoongi lets his head fall in disappointment.

Jungkook led you around the back of the building then outside to the lot where he was parked and you turned to him blankly. "Which one is yours?" He unlocks the car as an answer, the headlights flashing at you. Quick on your heels you pivot to face him.

"This is your car?" Your acrylic points to the grey polished, sleek sports car that had the two doors opening on their own. "Not too shabby for the working class, huh?" He quips and you swat at his arm.

"I already said I was sorry about the Lyft thing, will you just let it go already? He snorts at how flustered you're getting, "Already? That was literally 60 seconds ago." You pout and get into the car, avoiding any further conversation.

His car smelled good, like really good. You found yourself taking deeper breaths than usual. It was hard to describe the smell but if you tried you would describe it as a bold yet comforting aroma, it almost reminded you of a man's cologne but mixed with the fresh scent of smoked leather. Sweet but musky.

"Leave some air for me." Jungkook jokes and your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets, he pulls out of the lot and heads for the address you gave him. "Just hurry up." You slouch back into the seat hoping the chair would consume you.

"You do realize you're basically in a Lyft right now." Jungkook points out as the ending revs and the car accelerates, cutting up traffic, one hand on the wheel and the other out the window, just like you.

You ignored how attractive his driving was and zeroed in on the topic at hand. "No, this is different. I personally hired you, for the next..." You lean forward to see the GPS and the remaining time to your location, "6 minutes, you're my personal chauffeur." He just had to laugh, all those times he saw you with Jae, he'd always wondered what you'd be like.

He never would've guessed you be so full of...you. But it would be one hell of a lie if he said it didn't add to your appeal. He was no longer in dangerous waters, no no. The moment he accepted your proposition, he'd thrown himself into shark-infested waves with a pressuring current, destined to pull him to the bottom.

Jungkook pulled up to the side of the salon and you hurried got out. "Thank you, Jungkook. I really appreciate it; oh and take care of my car!" You smile from outside the window looking in, about to leave when you reach for your phone and hand it to him.

His heart leaps from his chest. That's it? So easy? He lags for a moment, staring at your arm that was outstretched to him. "So you can tell me when my car is ready."

Oh.

"OH. Yeah. Of course." he enters in his information before handing it back to you, and the sight of your bouncy steps in your high heels and sunglasses is the last he sees of you before he makes his way back to the shop.

-

Walking into the garage he picks up an oil cloth that he knows he'll need soon. Startled, Jungkook's hand grabs his chest as Yoongi pops up from behind the car, the opened trunk shielding him from sight before. Grease-covered hands and stained attire are what he notices before his displeased expression.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't get in the front seat and back this car over you." He threatens, not a smile in sight except for the big one that spreads across Jungkook's apologetic face. "Because I'll work overtime for a week, unpaid."

Yoongi taps the wrench in his palm, thinking about it. "You were on the clock, Jeon. Make it two."

"Deal."

The two round the car to the open hood to get a better look at the engine. "Was it at least worth it? I know you've had your eyes on her since she first came in with that guy like two years ago."

"She's funny and she's beautiful. It's so over for me." Yoongi chuckles, reaching his hand into the hood, and starting the repairs. "Just ask her out, I don't see what the big deal is." He shrugs and Jungkook's head slowly turns, "This could be the love of my life, Yoongi. One wrong move and I lose my one chance, all my greatest dreams and aspirations-" Yoongi playfully closes the hood on Jungkooks fingers to shut him up.

"Alright Shakespeare, now help me get this engine out."

--

A week goes by when you are flipping through a magazine, 'What's the perfect job for you' the letters read and surprise surprise you got a model. You smiled as you placed the magazine back down on the craft services table as the photographer called you over to the center to resume the shoot.

This was for the cover of Serpahine, thankfully you weren't as nervous this time around as you were three years ago when it was your first time.

You'd been in the modelling world for a few years now, you got into it on a whim not expecting to really go anywhere with it, but the people loved you. You were only 19 when you went to your first shoot for a local retail store, fast forward six years and you'd actually driven past a billboard with your face on it this morning.

Once the shoot was done you finally reconnected with your beloved phone and saw there was a message from an unsaved number. "Your car is ready for pick up." Ah, finally.

You were sick of carpooling and hiring drivers this week, all you wanted was to finally get back behind the wheel of your own car.

The evening hadn't escaped you just yet. The sun was still out but slowly setting and casting an orange hue as you got out of the car in front of Wheeley's and dismissed them.

You could already see Jungkook from where you stood outside of the garage. Leant over the hood of another car, sleeves rolled up and tattoos on display. Just when he couldn't get any hotter.

You knocked on the wall, not sure if you could enter. He looks up with a glance before doing an immediate double take and stands to his full height. He welcomes you with a soft smile and gestures you over.

You approached him slowly, the last thing you wanted was to eat shit and land on the greasy floors in front of him.

The closer you got, the more intense his gaze became, "Wow, you look amazing." Jungkook compliments almost speechless. It was like you'd gotten even prettier from the last time he'd seen you.

Instinctively, you play with the chain of your white gold orchid necklace. It was just something you did when you were flattered or shy, in this case, a bit of both.

"Ahem." Neither of you had any idea where Yoongi had come from but he spawned and reminded Jungkook to stay focused before he vanished back into his office.

"Right. So. We assessed the damage to your engine, and the overheating engine caused the gasket to blow, causing the coolant and the oil to start mixing which is very bad." You could tell he was dumbing down the words for you and you had to stop yourself from chewing on your lower lip as he talked.

He's so hot when he talks about cars and stuff. "Are you following?" What? You thought you were doing such a good job of listening. He continued to explain what had been done and import fees and blah blah blah.

You weren't listening to a damn thing he was saying and Jungkook could tell. If he was being honest, he was hardly listening to himself, brain so warped on the fact that this was probably the last time he'd see you for a long time.

He walked you over to the register, "With the coverage you get from guardian auto insurance it reduces your initial price from 2,785.61 to 875.50." You blinked, guardian auto insurance. You had no memory of buying that, which is why you assumed your dad did and thank god for that.

Not that you couldn't afford the initial price but who would want to spend money on boring car stuff when they could go shopping? You paid and then remembered something.

"Here's your tip, for the Lyft." You smile handing him a hundred-dollar bill and he just smiles, not reaching for the money. "Aren't you gonna take it?" He shakes his head. "The car did all the work, all I did was steer. Besides, if I were you, I'd consider putting my money towards a better car."

Your hand falters, and you pout. "What's wrong with my Magma GRT?"

"I hate to say it, but this is the worst car money can buy. I see about three of these every week. For starters, the engineering of it is shit, it makes our job ten times harder. Not to mention it was wired by preschoolers, the batteries are cheap and I can guarantee you, your transmission is gonna blow sometime in the next year."

You stood there, jaw dropped.

"That's not true." You argue, feeling defensive over your sweet baby.

Jungkook guides you over to the hood of the car he had just been working on. "I'll take everything back if you can show me where the engine is."

You stood there for a solid minute, really giving it hard thought. "It's right here." You hold up the middle finger in front of his face before walking away and he laughs taking long strides to catch up to your furious pace.

"Where is my car, anyway?" Jungkook leads you around the back where the completed cars sit with a ticket on the windshield. He watched you excitedly hop into the driver's seat and run your hands over the wheel, then touching the fuzzy orchids that hung from your mirror.

You started it up and she sounded better than ever. You got out and fought the urge to do a little dance but you lost. It was cute, adorable really. "Thank you!" Without even thinking you placed a quick peck on his cheek before you returned to your car, honking at him twice before you sped off.

His fingers lightly grazed the cheek your lips had just met. His vision started to blur, he was about to faint. And then the doom settled in his stomach, you were gone.

--

"Let's take 5 everyone. Y/n, a minute." The head photographer calls you over. "What's going on? You seem out of it, and you can't be out of it. Not until this shoot is done, at least. I've got bills to pay too."

It's been a few weeks since you'd gotten your car fixed but now everything else felt broken. Suddenly a new outfit didn't put a smile on your face, and the buzz you got from a night out at the bar didn't compare to the flames you felt with the few moments you had with that pretty mechanic.

You shake away the thoughts and apologize, reassuring him that you'd get your head back in the game.

--

It's been a month.

He hasn't texted you, which isn't crazy considering you gave him your number for repair purposes only. Though it did make you sad to know he ignored the resource he had to contact you. Then again the phone did work both ways.

You were spiralling, just a tad.

Besides, you didn't want to text him, you needed to see him, but you can't just show up to a mechanic for no reason...

You paced around your room until your gaze landed on your car keys.

You shake your head.

No.

That's crazy.

You grab the keys anyway.

After a quick Google search, you concluded that this evening you would be making an impromptu trip to the gas station. Your tank holds about 30 liters so you pumped it with 35.

Once you got back in the car, just as Google said, your check engine light was on. At least this time it wasn't red.

"Oh no, looks like I've gotta get a check-up."

-

You pulled onto the lot with a mischievous grin, you weren't sure how you were going to pull this off but you had to.

Parking outside the open garage, you locked the car before walking in, looking around for any signs of anyone but it was empty--

"Back so soon?" You turn, face to face with the same face you'd been wanting to see for weeks. "Well yeah, I-"

The loud engine of that familiar tow truck came roaring up the driveway. A loud horn caught your attention. "Come on Jeon, roadside call ain't gonna solve itself!" Scooter shouts and Jungkook visibly gulps, looking between the two of you with a panicked gaze.

"I'm sorry, I have to go. Yoongi is in his office, he can help you."

Your shoulders slumped and your pout was prominent. Let this be the first and last time you ever stuck your neck out for a man.

-

A few days had passed when Jungkook sent you the invoice for your repairs. Your eyes analyzed the familiar statement of reduction showing that Guardian Auto Insurance saved you another 600 dollars.

You sighed.

You completed the transaction online and made sure to avoid him at all costs when you picked up your car. Unable to face him after he had blown you off. Even though you know it wasn't intentional, it was still humiliating.

The following weeks may not have been anything special for you but were most certainly eventful for Yerin. "I warned you not to dance on top of that bar." You joke as you walk Yerin out of the emergency room with a slight hangover while she has a cast on her left arm.

After driving her back to her place, not a silent ride at that, even on three different pain killers she was still whining about this curb and that curb, 'watch out for that pedestrian' she would yell as if you didn't have eyes.

"How am I supposed to get to work tomorrow." She sulks, resting her cast on a nearby couch cushion. "I can take you." You offer and she glares, "I guess I wasn't clear. I need to make it in one piece." You rolled your eyes.

"I'll just take my car, driving with one hand can't be that hard." She shrugs.

"It's not, but you're not left-handed. It's a bad idea." You warn but she is more stubborn than you are.

-

It was only around 10 am the following morning when you received a message from Yerin. She attached an image of her car, it looked normal aside from the missing side mirror.

Oh boy.

'I told you so.' You send her and she replies with a middle finger.

'Now it's your turn to go to Wheeley's and make sure to use your guardian auto insurance. Saves a ton.'

She gives you a thumbs up.

Talking about that shop made your mind wander. You wonder how Jungkook was doing. It's been a while since you last saw him. Sometimes you regret not sticking around for him to come back, or even avoiding him to pick up your car.

But maybe this was for the best.

Besides, you were just a customer. One of many. You're sure he's forgotten all about you.

-

Your phone buzzes once, then twice, pulling you out of the realm of peace and tranquillity that your nap had rolled you into. You'd fallen asleep on the couch while reruns of your favourite movie passed by on your screen. "Hello?"

"Guardian Auto Insurance my ass. I was charged $450. I asked Yoongi to double check and he said apparently that doesn't even exist." Slowly sitting up, you try to make sense of it.

How's that possible? If it doesn't exist then who made it up?-

Oh shit.

You quickly finish the call with Yerin, and check the time. The shop would close in about an hour, you had little time to get ready before you made your way there.

Pulling into the driveway so late at night made your headlights seem like spotlights, bouncing off every reflective surface in sight. Catching Jungkook's attention as he wasn't expecting anyone this late at night.

In his fitted jumpsuit, he watched the car pull up closer to the garage, shining the bright light in his face until the engine was shut off. He'd seen this car hundreds of times. He couldn't get his hopes up, but the second your red bottoms hit the concrete his heart was pounding.

You were headed right towards him.

You looked angry- no, upset, no-

"When were you gonna tell me that there's really no Guardian Auto Insurance and that you've been covering 80% of my costs out of your own pocket?" You definitely sounded angry but your gaze seemed... soft.

You stopped right in front of him, face to face. Your breathing was heavy and your brows furrowed as your eyes danced between both of his deep brown, apologetic ones. "I-"

"Just shut up." Grabbing a gentle hold of his cheeks in your hands, you pulled his lips down to meet yours. It took Jungkook a second to process what was going on but once his brain caught up, so did his hands.

He held you securely at the waist, tugging you into him until your front was against his and he worked his tongue with yours. Your heads tilted slightly to deepen the kiss.

You always knew he'd be a great kisser, but this was taking your breath away. Literally. You pulled away from him, lungs reaching for a much-needed dose of oxygen while Jungkook did the same. His gaze was much darker.

"You and this stupid uniform. I want to finally see what's underneath-" Reaching for his buttons, you're able to get the first four undone with a few stray kisses to his neck that send Jungkook absolutely reeling. A soft moan escapes him before he pulls back.

"Wait. Wait, I have something for you." He disappears into one of the offices before coming back with a bouquet of orchids. Your gasp is genuine.

"Yoongi said a friend of yours was in the shop earlier and I'd already been thinking about you non-stop so I just took it as a sign to reach out. I was actually going to bring these to you later once the shop closed. I noticed you had orchids on your necklace and in your car so I just thought you'd like them." You give them a sniff. "I love them. They were actually my mom's favourite flower before she passed."

He frowns, "I'm sorry to hear that," you give him a sad smile, "Thank you, it means a lot. Really. But we can talk about that later," You place the flowers behind you on the trunk of the car. Jungkook grins.

"You're very direct aren't you." You shrug. "You'll get used to it."

He walks up to you, looking down at you with the six inches his head carried over yours. "Oh, will I?" You nod with unwavering confidence. "Unless you can't handle it-" A big, gentle hand is placed around your neck, no pressure applied until he speaks, "I'm not the one who needs to be worried about."

With that said he slowly sinks himself to his knees, big hands reaching under your ruffled skirt, taking two handfuls of your ass and giving it a firm squeeze. You gasp as you feel him slowly drag a finger along the soaked fabric of your panties.

"Please, Jungkook." The harmonious sound of you begging rattled him to his core. With no self-restraint, he would do anything you asked. "Don't worry princess, I've got you. Gonna take good care of you." he pulls down the only thing keeping him from your soaked cunt and a low growl rumbles in his chest at the sight.

He helps you to step out of your panties with your heels still on, he couldn't let your bare feet touch the floors. You open your hand for the garment but you roll your eyes at the sight of him pocketing them in his uniform. You already know you'll never see them again and you accept it.

He has you bunch up your skirt around your waist for better sight. Smoothly he places one leg over his shoulder while your body rests against the trunk of the car. The grip he holds on your left thigh is tight enough to make your brain spin and surely marks will follow.

"See. I always knew I'd have you on your knees for me one d-AY. Oh fuck!" Jungkook can't be bothered to bark back at you not when he has an insatiable appetite and a full meal right in front of him.

His jaw worked itself as he lapped up at your center. Tongue long and warm, licking every square inch of you until you couldn't take it, hands reaching desperately for his hair and he groaned.

Once he finally had you where he wanted you, reduced to nothing but begs and whimpers, he allowed his tongue to flick over your clit repeatedly, until he felt half of your body weight fall onto his right shoulder for a moment.

You could hardly even keep yourself up. He was going to make sure you remembered this. "Oh shit! P-please Jungkook. M'So close." He groans, his right hand pressing down on the solid bulge in his pants for a little relief.

Your slick was running down his chin, some even down the sides of his neck as he worked you with his tongue. Writhing nonstop, though this wouldn't be an issue if he had a better environment. He'd have you pinned and unable to run from him.

To finish you off he let his teeth graze so lightly over your clit, you almost wouldn't feel it had he not heightened your senses to such an extreme with his intricate pussy eating.

You came with his name falling off your lips.

Your face turns beet red as he tells you to look down at the mess you made on the ground below you. "What were you saying earlier? Something about me being on my knees for you-"

"Just fuck me already." Jungkook stands back up to his full height, clicking his tongue with tsk' sounds. "I pay for your repairs, I buy you flowers, I make you cum and this is how you talk to me? Where are your manners." Jungkook adjusts your skirt so it's back in place and he picks you up to sit on the trunk.

"Besides. I'm not fucking you in here. I wanna take you out first." You smile at that, "Finally, a smile." He remarks, and your body limps forward naturally, your arms wrapping around his neck while your head settles in the crook of his neck and your eyes flutter shut. You ignore his previous statement until he whispers in your ears. "You do realize the garage was open this whole time, and anyone who drove by got a front-row show?" Your eyes shoot open.

[themultifanshipper]

Hi I love your writing!!Could you maybe do the 🟡 prompt from your list with Oscar. I’m thinking maybe a female driver reader enemies to lovers kind of situation but it is really up to you

Thanks💜

You and Oscar didn't usually find yourselves battling on track, because you didn't usually qualify close to each other. But this time… this time you had locked out the front row at your home race, and it was going to be a blood bath.

Warnings: hate sex, rough sex, biting, hair pulling, the usual really, although I find the ending surprisingly fluffy for me but oh well, also Oscar is kind of a dick in this ngl, also Bestfriend!Lando bc I cannot seperate them even in fiction

Requested from my prompt list

Obviously this was a fight you refused to lose. You were in front of your home crowd, qualifying p2 behind your teammate for one of the rare times your car hadn't failed you half way through qualifying.

These days you felt like you were driving a fucking Williams.

Anyway, the lights went out and for the next hour and a half the cameras did not leave you two for even a second, the battle for p1 being so intense. You'd lost count of how many times you had overtaken each other, and both of you had damage. Part of your front wing was missing, your DRS was glitching, and Oscar had floor damage. Both of you were too stubborn to come into the pits so you kept going despite your engineers' orders, and on the last corner of the last lap, you brake checked Oscar.

You don't even remember doing it. All you remember is the crowd roaring your name as the McLaren crew lifted you out of your seat and carried you over their heads chanting the song they had affectionately dubbed yours.

“She's a maniac, maniac on the floor! And she's driving like she never has before!”

You remember the podium ceremony, Lando had overtaken Oscar thanks to you and was spraying you in the face from his p2 spot, as Oscar scowled and sprayed Zak, who stood off to the side, ready to give you two a stern talking to after the ceremony.

You remember being yelled at in his office. Something about him smoothing it over with the stewards so that you didn't get a penalty at your home race, at which point Oscar also started yelling, at Zak, at you, and at the unfairness of it all.

You remember going out to a club with Lando, the heavy bass of the music (and the alcohol) transporting you to another realm of existence as you danced together.

It's when you'd had one two many tequila shots (courtesy of Lando's fat bank account) that you thought it would be a good idea to call Oscar.

Unfortunately for him, he answered.

“Hello? Why the fuck are you calling me at two in the morning? Has something happened? Is Lando in a coma? No? Then don't fucking call me”

And with that he hung up on you. So you rang again, not one for giving up so easily.

“For the love of Christ, WHAT?!”

“Oscar! Why aren't you out celebrating your podium?” you said loudly over the music.

“Yeah Oscar I miss partying with youuuuu” Lando whined into the phone over your shoulder.

“Fucking leave me alone!” Oscar shouted, and he hung up again, but even though the club was loud, you definitely heard his voice crack.

So you and Lando had the marvelous idea to go to his hotel (you were staying at your own place, with Lando, it being your home race) and knock on his door. And he opened it to the sight of you and Lando clinging onto each other for dear life.

“Fucking hell you two look like shit, what have you been doing?” his eyes roamed your figures, staying a bit too long on yours, and on your ridiculous dress (picked by Lando of course) that probably exposed more of you than it covered.

The two of you barged into his room and sat on his bed. While he just stared you down.

“Well?... what the fuck do you want?” he scowled.

“We came to ask why you're moping here instead of celebrating your podium with us” Lando pouted.

“What is there to celebrate? You-” he pointed at you “ruined my race by making a dangerous move. I'm not celebrating a fucking p3 when I would have won fair and square!”

You and Lando looked at each other, which was a mistake, because you immediately started giggling uncontrollably.

“GET OUT!” Oscar shouted louder than you'd ever heard him, and Lando immediately ran for the door.

Mopey grumbling Oscar was hilarious, but you'd come to find that furious Oscar was downright terrifying when he needed to be.

You weren't scared though, you'd always found angry Oscar incredibly hot, and right now you'd had enough alcohol to make sure you couldn't run even if you tried.

The furious expression on his face as he stared you down did make you squirm though, and your thighs clenched together involuntarily.

His eyes were drawn to the movement, quickly scanning the expanse of your bare thighs before snapping back up to your face and taking a step towards you.

"Well?! Anything to say for yourself? A fucking apology perhaps? Or even just a reason as to why you're still sitting on my bed in that slutty excuse of a dress instead of running away like Lando?”

You were outraged at his words. How dare he say that.

“How fucking dare you!” you managed to stand up on wobbly legs to shove him backwards. Unsurprisingly he didn't move an inch. “This dress is perfectly fine! It's a club dress!”

“Oh please! It's indecent, I can almost see your-”

“SECONDLY!” you interrupted before he could finish that particular sentence, the thought of him actually seeing you so exposed slightly overwhelming you “I didn't run away because I’m not fucking scared of a dickhead like you!”

He stepped closer to you, so close that if he extended his arm he could touch you if he wanted to. His eyebrows were lost in his hairline, and there was a fire in his eyes you had rarely seen there before, as he shook with rage.

“If you’re not scared of me then why are you trembling like a fucking leaf? Is it because you're cold in that pathetic excuse of an outfit?”

“You seem awfully focused on my dress for someone who claims to be so nonchalant” you purred, stepping closer.

“Fuck you.” he scowled.

“Ooh is that a proposition?” you smirked, your bodies were almost touching now.

“Careful, don't get too cocky, I'm obviously not as easy for it as you” he spat, eyes darting down to where goosebumps had risen over the exposed skin of your breasts.

“How could I not get cocky?” you leaned in close to whisper “I'm the one who got a first place trophy a few hours ago…” and with that, you pushed past him and started walking towards the door.

But just before you could grab the handle, you were pushed flat against the door roughly and you gasped as Oscar growled in your ear.

“Fuck you, and fuck your trophy, and fuck this fucking dress!”

He wasted no time spinning you around and slamming you back against the door, plastering himself against your body and slotting a thigh between yours, forcing you to spread your legs for him.

“This dress is going to be useless by the time I’m fucking done with you”

You were reduced to a puddle of mush as his hands ripped the flimsy fabric, flinging it across the room and his mouth immediately went to your tits, mouthing over them and groaning into the skin. One of his hands went up to grab your hair and the other grabbed your ass hard enough to leave bruises. He tensed his thigh as you grinded on it shamelessly, whimpering as the friction of his jeans felt like heaven against your barely covered cunt.

His mouth went up to your neck, licking and sucking the skin it found in it's path before pausing and looking at you, his eyes hooded and mouth gasping for air as he panted into your mouth.

“I’m going to make you pay for the race, sweetheart, I'm going to fucking ruin you.”

And ruin you he did. Your body was on fire, your thighs were fucking soaked, and Oscar had you arched into the bed, ass up in the air as he pounded into you while holding your head up to look at yourself in the mirror that was facing the bed.

You looked like sin personified, makeup running down your face, drool and tears making a mess of the sheets as yet another orgasm wracked through your body.

He pulled out and turned you over, spreading your legs, weeping cunt on display for him.

He moaned at the sight of your used body, marks and bruises blooming all over it.

“Fuck you're so perfect for me, I can't get enough of this pussy” he slid his tip through your slit a couple of times, just enough to make you start begging again, before sliding back in to the hilt. “Fuck- begging so perfect for me when you're not running your mouth” he growled before pounding into you mercilessly and rubbed the meat of his palm over your clit. The friction was too much as your hands flew to his shoulders and your nails dug in, making him groan as his pace faltered and he grabbed your wrists to pin them above your head.

His face hovered inches above yours, sweat dripping off him onto you as he pounded into you for all he was worth.

“Too much…” you gasped “Osc, I can't”

“Shhhhh baby, you can do one more for me, I know you can.”

He kissed you, much too soft in comparison to how he was railing you into next week. And he kissed away the tears on your cheeks as his hand let your wrists go in favour of wrapping his arms around you to lift you up into his lap, deepening the angle of his thrusts making you cry out in pleasure.

He buried his head in your shoulder as he rolled his hips, fingers going back to play with your clit as you writhed above him.

“Oscar fuck… So deep… I’m so close, fuck don't stop!” You wrapped your arms around him as you finally kissed him without thinking, making him groan into your mouth as his hips never faltered.

He wouldn't dream of stopping, he’d been waiting for this moment a long time, and now that he had you, he was going to do everything he could to keep you.

“Come for me love, come on my cock, good girl…” he panted into your mouth.

It was like a volcano erupting as you came around him. You clamped down hard around his cock and it threw him over the edge as well, biting into the meat of your shoulder, so deep he could almost taste blood. You gasped and your hips bucked into his gently as you both rode the waves of your highs together.

Once the two of you regained a sense of where you were, wrapped in each other’s arms and covered in sweat, you just looked at each other, neither of you knowing what to say.

Daylight was already filtering in through the blinds and for the first time, you noticed the dusting of freckles on his nose and cheeks.

Neither of you wanted to let go, despite supposedly being bitter rivals. The two of you surged forwards at the same time and his lips were soft against yours as you clung to each other, hands grasping every piece of flesh they could reach. And you didn't let go until the sun was well and truly up, and Oscar ignored the calls from the team to say they were going to leave without him if he didn't get there soon.

“Stay with me for a few days?” You whispered into his neck as you lay under the covers with him.

“Okay” he kissed the top of your head sleepily, drifting off after an intense race weekend (wink wink).

You checked your phone for messages, only seeing one from Lando.

‘Do I even need to ask where you slept last night?’

Despite the obvious bait from your best friend, you decided to reply:

“Nope... but fyi I haven't actually slept at all ;) ’

You turned your phone off, and snuggled back under the covers with Oscar, who was already snoring softly behind you.

[ursuu-la]

Just in time. - S. Reid.

summary: Where Spencer was at the right place and time.

wc: 1.9k

tw: mentions of suicid3, suicid3 att3mpt, not feeling enough, driving at full speed(?).

a/n: this is not exactly romantic, but I felt the need to post something angsty and this was the first thing that came to my mind. I hope that you enjoy it, but that you don't identify with the feelings :( if so, my inbox is open♡

Also, requests are open!! I think I'll write about Hotch too, just so yk

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

"See you guys tomorrow!" Spencer waved goodbye and walked out the door. You smiled before he left and turned your attention back to your stuff.

You were organazing all the things on your desk, at the same time you kept on your bag the ones you always took home: your phone, your keys, and some paperwork that you didn't want to finish in the office. It was almost 9p.m. and there were now only three members of the team left in the office: Morgan, JJ and you.

Once you finished clearing your desk and had everything you needed inside your bag, you walked past JJ and Derek, greeting them both goodbye. You spoke a little with both of them, making sure that the case hadn't affected them so much. You cared about your friends, and wanted to be there for them if they needed someone to vent to. Both of them told you that they felt as usual, which conformed you.

"And you? How are you doing, (y/n)?" JJ asked when you finished checking up on her.

"Fine, I guess." You spoke and smiled to her. Your friend just returned the gesture, wished you goodnight, and then dragged her attention back to the paperwork.

You walked out of the office and, for a second, you kept the smile on your face, but then it slowly started to fade as you walked towards your car.

Even though you had just told JJ that you were feeling fine, the truth was that the last couple of months had been rough on you. The explanation was hard to find, but during this time, you were feeling... just bad about yourself. No matter how many people you saved or how many cases you solved with the team, whenever you got back home, you couldn't help but feel that you hadn't done enough.

The feeling started growing bigger and bigger as the months passed by. You had tried to speak about it with the rest of the team: but something was stopping you. It was frustrating because you didn't usually have any trouble communicating your emotions, and the fact that no one noticed you were struggling made you feel even worse.

Now you were driving back home, no music playing, only your thoughts filling your head. You remembered every part of the case, and as you replayed it in your head over and over, you found new ways in which you could have been more helpful.

"Agh... I hate this..." Your voice sounded frustrated. What was the point of keep going to cases if every single time you felt the same afterward? What was the point of having people around you if you couldn't open up to them and vent your feelings? What was the point of it all?

Suddenly, you felt one tear falling down your cheek. You wiped it off. It brought you back to reality. You were driving, and since it was late, there was no one on the street. Your hands started to shake as the thought appeared in your head.

The whole street was empty, your car would be the only one damaged. You would be the only person hurt, the only mortal victim. Your hands were still shaking, anxiousness creeping inside you as you tried to think of a reason why that was stupid.

But nothing came to your mind.

Nothing was stopping you.

Not even red lights.

Now there was more than one tear falling down your cheek, and you were wiping none of those off your face: you were letting them fall. Your foot pressed the gas with all of its strength, you could hear the engine getting louder each second.

Your heart rate accelerated, your eyes were blurring because of the tears, and you could feel how every part of your body shook. You were about to turn aside your car, knowing that at that speed there was no way of getting out of there intact, but you heard a noise: it was another car.

You stopped the car as fast as you could because your vision had suddenly been cleared, and you noticed that a car was in front of you waiting on a red light. That same car had made the noise. Scared of not stopping at the right time, you turned sharply the steering wheel, causing you to end up in another lane.

When your car was still, you took your hands off the steering wheel and placed them in your head. Just in that moment, you noticed what you were about to do, which made you burst into tears.

"What the hell was I think- AAH!" You yelled out of fear when you heard a knock on the car window. You rolled it down, ready to yell at whoever was standing there. But when you saw the person, your words got stuck in your throat.

"(y/n)?" His voice was like a slap across your face. You felt like you couldn't move. "Hey, are you okay?" He placed one hand on your shoulder, taking you out of the state you had gotten into.

"Spencer..." Was the only thing you were able to say. "Did you...?"

"Yes. I mean- I saw a car coming at full speed behind me, and I tried not to get killed. But... Are you... Are you okay? What were you doing driving like that?" Spencer questioned, yet he didn't have an accusing tone. It was a worried and concerned one.

"I was..." You couldn't speak. How were you supposed to tell him that you almost committed suicide and that almost got him into a car crash? 'Hey Spence, guess what? I wanted to kill myself and almost took you with me, haha!' There was no easy way to say it nor a way to disguise it as something else.

You looked up at Spencer, his gaze met yours. His face was scanning every inch of yours, looking for an answer. When you saw him properly, you felt like you didn't need to speak: you felt like you needed a hug.

"Step back, I'll open the door." You spoke, Spencer took a few steps back and looked confused at your every action. When you walked out of the car and suddenly hugged him, his face turned surprised.

"I don't know what to..." His voice was low. He was hugging you back, perceiving that you needed it. "If you need to talk, I'm here."

You nodded with gratefulness, appreciating Spencer's words. The two of you remained silent for a while after you let go of the hug until you dared to speak about the situation. Both of your cars were parked on the side of the street, and you were sitting on the sidewalk.

"Spencer, I was... trying to end it all, I just wanted to..." He lifted up his gaze to meet your face, but you were looking down at the floor. Not sure if you wanted to make eye contact while confessing the situation.

"Where you about to...?" Reid couldn't finish the question, he averted what you were about to say, he just didn't want to believe that it was true. You were one of the happiest people Reid knew, and thinking that behind that bubbly personality he knew, hid an amount of pain that made you think of suicide as a solution, made his heart sank.

"Yes. I... I don't know what I was thinking... I just reached the edge, and everything feels like too much." Now you dared to look into his eyes, concern filled his face. Seeing Reid like that made you feel worse because you felt like you were only bothering him. "Oh, dear lord. Now I'm just taking away your time. Maybe I'll just need to sleep this off..." You started speaking as you tried to get on your feet, but Spencer stopped you.

"Wait. Don't try to escape the problem." He spoke as he gestured you to sit comfortably again. "I'll be here until the sun comes up if it's necessary. I care about you (y/n), and what just happened is not something to take lightly."

Spencer's words were simple, but they were the right ones; as soon as you heard him, you started crying. Reid tried to hide it, but seeing you like that made him want to hug you as tight as possible and never let you go. How could someone so good be suffering this much? He thought you didn't deserve to feel that way.

"I just don't know what's happening to me... I don't usually feel like this, but these last months have been from bad to worse."

"And we didn't notice?" His voice was loaded with guilt. He was a profiler, and he couldn't have been able to notice your mood or signals. "I'm so sorry, (y/n)."

"It's fine. I jus-"

"No, it's not. We should have noticed, I should have noticed you were struggling. Because what would have happened tonight if I wasn't there with my car?" Reid's voice cracked at the end of the sentence, you could swear that you saw a tear forming in the corner of his eye.

"But you were there. You saved me." You spoke as you rested a reassuring hand on his arm. Spencer chuckled and shook his head. "What is it?"

"I'm the one that's supposed to be reassuring you. Not the other way around." You couldn't help to smile, which had the same reaction on Reid. "You're always putting others first and yourself last... You're too good for this world."

"I'm not that good. I can always do better on cases, and I barely help to resolve anything." The words that had been repeating inside your head for the last couple of months were spoken for the first time. Spencer looked at you, his face getting sadder than it already was.

"Stop putting yourself down. You're literally the best human being I know." He spoke with a sad smile on his face. "I truly can't understand where you got those awful ideas about you."

You didn't speak. Every word that came out of Spencer's mouth made you feel worse for even trying to do what you tried to. For the third time that night, you were crying, but this time, a hand was caressing your face. You looked at Spencer, who had started to wipe the tears off your cheeks.

"I just... Don't understand myself... I feel like everything I do has a negative effect on people. I need to take a break... from everything..."

"I get it. Maybe it would be better if you just take some time off work. Take some time to care about yourself, treat yourself with some love, and maybe that will help you to heal whatever has triggered these emotions." Spencer took his hand away from your cheek. "Furthermore, I could help you to find any kind of professional help to overcome this. There are plenty of ways in which I can help you, just say the word."

"Thank you, Spence." You spoke with a soft voice, he only nodded lightly.

"I didn't do anything, really. I just happened to be there." He was trying to be modest, but you were way too grateful to let him be like that.

"Spencer, you saved my life. Take a little credit for that." You chuckled, and Reid's face lighted up: seeing you at least a fraction as happy as you were before made him feel better.

Reid wanted to tell you how happy he was for being there at the right moment. He wanted to tell you how important you were to him and how he would have been devastated with your loss. But now was not the time: he knew you needed to think about yourself, and once you felt better, maybe then he would dare to confess his feelings to you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

[dilfartist]

Selfish

Pairing; Yandere Leon Kennedy x reader

Synopsis; You escape your captor during one of his many missions. You stop by a diner searching for help. What will happen next? Find out by reading

Word count; 3.8K

TW; Kidnapping, non-con touching, Stockholm syndrome, maybe just a tad bit ooc, Yandere (obviously), obsessive behavior, cussing.

Notes; hopefully you enjoy reading. It’s not the best since I’m still maturing as a writer and because of my hiatus; but I hope you enjoy.

!Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!

Sapphire-embellished twilight transitions into dawn’s light blue hue bringing alongside the sun. Birds sang good morning to one another, on their side of the forest. You ambled down the road that ceased the strong odored forest from connecting.

You stared at the endless road up ahead. Night to morning, ahead of you was forest and road. Perhaps this reason is why your captor moved into the isolated forest since raccoon city incident.

Or maybe he wanted to live a life of normalcy given the opportunity; the monsters he claimed he fought, seemingly every month, stressed him greatly and you noticed. Plus, he mentioned he needed a vacation frequently.

You pause, double-checking onward on the ostensibly never-ending road. Was your hard work a waste of time?

Looking back on the way he treated you, you pondered if it would have been smarter to stay home. Most days he wasn't overbearing. Once in a while, he’d annoy you, other than that he was tolerable. Besides being unable to leave the house unattended and having no say in choices at times, he gave you more freedom than most.

But then you remember the day before. At the crack of dawn, he’d left for a mission: bidding you goodbye with a note and breakfast at your night table side. You were left all alone, so naturally you sought a form of entertainment.

The television; Which was your only option.

You were clicking through the television channels when you came across a crime documentary. The story was similar to your personal life so you continued to watch the channel.

The story was about a woman, age twenty-three, who was kidnapped for around four years. During her kidnapping, she fell deeply in love with her kidnapper to the point they had to detach her from the cop car when they arrested him.

In your situation, you’ve been abducted for at least eight months. Her situation only took a year till she developed Stockholm syndrome.

Clarified by the show as the psychological condition of a victim who identifies with and empathizes with their captor or abuser and their goals.

Learning this information a thought came to mind.

Would you become like her once it hits New Year's? Loyal to a man that took you away from society. No. You refused to allow the same situation to happen to you.

You’d never allow it to happen.

When it came to the relationship your captor so desperately longed for with you, you caused many difficulties to prevent any form of romance.

Any attempt at affection had him pushed away or smacked. Discussion about the past before your absconding was simply ignored. And in general, you kept your distance from him. Well, at least you tried to. He stays at your hip like a lost puppy majority of the time he has off work, talking your ear off. There was no way in hell you’d fall for him. Not after the months you spent in that isolated house.

Regardless of how certain you were, you mulled over it some more. You finally concluded running. So far, you felt regret and relief.

Out of nowhere, a loud reverberating sound of a car grew closer, arising behind you. You quickly spun around to see what the sound originated from.

The engine growled, sending a ping of fright to your heart. You spent no time thinking about Leon’s reaction to your escape. However, now your mind consumes thoughts of his response.

Could your captor's fury be so robust that the car in the distance embodied his rage? Knowing him since your best friend introduced you to the man becoming a rookie cop in raccoon city; you’ve never seen him enrage.

From time to time his witty replies and mean scowl would showcase his anger. Of course, that didn't mean his rage wasn't feasible. But never had you ever witnessed a stronger emotion from him.

Inching closer, you were able to discern the details of the car. It was a massive black car, with tinted windows. A car your captor might arrive home with after a mission. It announced its presence with its vociferous roaring.

You observe with dread blooming in the pit of your stomach, every other part of your body tingled.

Although the person driving the car was yet to be revealed, you were petrified, stuck in place like you had been glued onto the concrete below you.

It must be him.

Why else would they be heading so fast toward you?

Already, you’re willing to surrender. Your captor is a forgiving person when it comes to you, so there’s a likelihood he’ll forgive you if you cooperate.

Standing on the side of the road, you acquiescently wait for the car to stop. Waiting for him to take you back to your prison.

The car slows but even then it's at a fast pace. The car passes you momentarily. Slightly it reverses until the passenger window is in front of you. Unhurriedly, the shadowy window rolls down. In the driver's seat, instead of who you believed it to be, it was a woman.

She looked to be in her middle thirties. She wore black sunglasses in her strawberry-blonde hair, a red blouse with denim jeans. Her makeup reminded you of Jennifer Tilly in Bride of Chucky, but she wore a sweet smile.

“Oh my lord, are you alright darling?” The woman asked like you were a child outside without a jacket in the freezing winter.

You continued to stare at her. You wanted to say something, but your throat felt drier than sandpaper. You opened your mouth, wheezing a bit as you sipped the fresh air. “I don't know,” you responded as loud as you possibly could. So barely above a whisper.

“Do you know where you are?”

“No.”

“Are you safe?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

The woman shook her head disapprovingly, then she began to throw whatever laid in the passenger seat into the backseats. “Come on sugar, get inside. I’ll give you a ride.”

“Okay, thank you.”

She reached over and pushed the passenger door open. You entered the vehicle, settled in, and got comfy. You buckled in making sure you heard the reassuring click.

“There you go,” she commented with a smile. “Now, we're going to make a stop by a gas station, then we’ll find out what we can do with you. Is that alright?

You smiled back, “Yeah, I don't mind.”

The car began to ride forward and the air conditioning blew on your overheated body. You relished the cold air. You hadn't realized how hot it had been outside, even in the early morning. Where were you?

You put that thought aside. Now you needed to worry about something to drink and eat.

“Do you…have anything to drink or eat?” you glanced at the woman.

She nodded. “Of course sweety! Why didn't I offer before?” she looked away from the street to grab a half-empty bottle of water from the side of the driver's door. “Sorry, that's the only drink I have at the moment.” she apologizes.

Without a second thought, you unscrewed the cap off the water and chugged the water. Water had never tasted so refreshing before. It was like you’d been roaming in the desert for hours on end and finally found a source of water.

The woman glances at you. You must have looked crazy. “How long have you been out there?”

“Since eight last night.” You sounded better. No more raspy voice that hurts you to speak. “I should have packed a bag but something came up.”

Before you left the house last night, you weren't in your right mind. Your captor never gave you an exact time he’d be home. His return ranged between the eight at night, the dead of night, the crack of dawn, or the morning. Recently, he’d been arriving home at eight. Which is the reason you left with nothing. Looking back, you had no confidence in yourself at getting away. You believed you were going to be caught in a matter of ten minutes. Now look at you.

You turned to the woman, “Thanks…” She finishes the sentence with her name. “Amanda.” You nod rephrasing your sentence, “Thanks Amanda for picking me up.”

Amanda smiles again, this time wider showing off her pearly white teeth. “I couldn't just leave you out there. Now, what’s your name?”

You tell her your name and hope she somehow knows it. Maybe the news reported you missing when you weren’t watching. You hoped so.

Rather than freaking out, realizing she had found a missing person, she simply responded with a “nice to meet you.” You died a little at the rejoinder.

Did no one care enough to report your absence? Not your family or close friends, no one attempted to reach out to the police?

No. You’re just overthinking. Not everyone watches the news or actively looks for missing people. You just had to be around more people. Someone was bound to know your identity.

Still, you can’t ignore the way your hands shake at the thought of being forgotten.

“So what were you out there for? If you don’t mind sharing that is.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. What were you to say? Tell her the truth and find out she was with your captor the whole time or keep your mouth shut and have no help in case he does find you.

A white lie would help.

“Escaping my abusive boyfriend.”

A frown pulled at the woman’s plump lips, her eyebrows scrunching together at your answer. “Do I need to the cops, family members?”

“No,” you responded quickly and harshly. The car fell silent. You took a small breather before speaking. “No, thank you.”

“Please, tell me, is there anything else I can do to help you any further?”

You needed cash, shelter, and a job. There was only one thing you were sure she could help you with. “ I need money and a hotel.”

“Don't worry, I got you covered,” she said softly.

The car began to slow when she placed her foot on the break. She turned the car and moved into a spot that contained a combination of a gas station and an old fashion diner. She parked the car next to a gas pump, then powered it off.

She dug into the middle counsel, pushing around pens and important items, and pulled out a pink wallet. She unzipped the front zipper and pulled out some money.

Amanda held the cash out to you, “Here’s 100 dollars. There's enough for lasting food, a hotel to stay, and a bus.”

You unbuckle your seatbelt just to hug her tightly. “Thank you!” you repeat over and over, like an unanswered prayer. She returned the hug, telling you she didn't mind lending you some service. The hug ended and you needed to plan your next move. What would you spend your money on first?

Well, all you knew was what you’d spend what was given to you on something important.

You looked out the window. Your eyes shift toward the diner. Mo’s dinner was on the sign, “been here since the ’50s.” which was written below.

Right. Food. You haven't eaten since yesterday. Walking as long as you did, you tried to forget your hunger and focus on the main goal of finding shelter or at least some safety.

“I think I’ll have myself a hot breakfast!” you announced. Amanda unlocked the passenger door, “go right ahead. Enjoy your freedom.” You nod, fleeing the car akin to a little kid whose mother gave them money for an ice cream from the ice cream truck.

The entrance bell chimes when you open the door to the cream-colored establishment. Once inside, you settled yourself in a booth in the far back. An old jukebox plays aged music ranging from the 70s to the ’50. Besides you, there was a single person in the restaurant. A man at the bar sipping his morning coffee whilst reading the newspaper.

You extend your arm over to the menu across the table. The menu displays numerous appetizing dishes, varying from breakfast to a juicy steak dinner.

Flipping the page your eyes landed on a mouthwatering breakfast sandwich, including bacon, egg, and cheese.

“Hello ma’am, I’m Stephanie, I’ll be serving you this morning. What would you like?”

You placed the menu aside to give the waitress your whole attention. The woman was of average height, wearing a pink uniform that reminded you of the 50s. She wore a smile that did not reach her black doe eyes. “Did you hear any of that?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” you said sincerely, feeling anxious about possibly pissing her off. “Could I have a number six and a sweet tea?”

“Of course, is that it?”

“Umm…yeah, that’s it.”

“Alright then,” she replied disinterestedly. She left quickly, retreating to the kitchen.

You continue gazing at the closed door to the kitchen. What else could you do? You should have brought along something to entertain you, then again there wasn't much back at the house you called a jail cell. For the remainder of the waiting duration, you’d have your thoughts to amuse your lethargy.

Ding Ding

Instinctively, your head turned. 50s music began to fade, superseded by the loud thumping of your heart. Your breathing became shaky, parallel to your hands. Dirty blonde hair is what you see first. It’s him! You repeat in your head, like a religious prayer.

“Jessica, hey!” you heard a joyous exclamation. You watch as the man from the bar rushes over to the person entering the restaurant. Your anxiety left as quickly as it came. A hand places itself onto your cheat, and on the spot your heart thumped rapidly. You had to calm down. You took deep breaths, and your heart slowed with each sip of air. You rest your head on the table.

After taking the time to calm yourself, you analyzed the restaurant furthermore. Now, the place was vacant, since the man had left. Fifteen minutes passed and you found a newspaper from the newspaper rack adjacent to the front entrance.

Nothing in the article was new to you. At your captor’s home, you watched the news almost once a week to see if anyone had reported your disappearance. Nothing ever came up though. At least you were up to date with everything going on.

Your waitress finally returned, carrying your meal on a maroon-colored tray in her left hand. “Sorry for the wait, ma’am. Kitchen malfunction.” she apologized, giving you a guileless smile. This would be the only expression besides tedium that you’d receive from her.

“It's alright,” you said, watching as she placed the food on the table for you to dig into. She left carrying the tray back to the kitchen she emerged from.

You took a bite of the sandwich, chewing slowly to savor the flavor. Juicy and delicious are solely vivid words to illustrate the taste. The egg had a spongy texture that combines well with melted cheese. And the hickory bacon wasn’t too crispy or chewy, it was simply perfect.

Back at the prison, your captor wasn't the best cook. But he tried to be for you. Still, you preferred takeout. Chinese, Italian, and burgers began to become a boring taste on your taste buds. Having a breakfast sandwich was refreshing, to say the least.

“Enjoying your meal, huh?” rough voice inquiries. The question was said cockily but their wrath was audible in the way the last word was spoken.

You stop mid-chew, the overwhelming flavor vanishing from your mind. It now tasted bland. You kept your eyes shut. Were you afraid? No. Afraid couldn't explain the ineffable amount of dread you felt at the moment. Ruffling could be heard on the opposite side of the table; He was sitting down. Your eyes open involuntarily like your body already knew what he wanted it to do.

Across the table, seating snugly is your captor; Leon Kennedy. He looks rougher than the last time you’ve spoken. The dark circle underneath his eye has grown darker. His brunette roots have begun peaking out ruining his natural blonde facade. And he looked exhausted. Must have stayed up all night looking for you.

He looked more than pissed. He appeared disgruntled. Compared to Leon, you were small. But now, Leon was like a giant towering over you. Despite never abusing you in any shape or form, your body shakes like a leaf in the wind. The way he glares down at you drives you to shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“Do you know how long I've been up for, y/n?” he asks whilst pulling out a flask from his jacket pocket.

Regardless of how parched you are, you force yourself to converse with him. “No,” you're voice is brisk and faint.

“Two days. For two days I’ve been on my feet.” He takes a swig of the flask and then continues to rant. “I could have joined you in bed and fallen asleep, but there was a problem. You weren't anywhere.”

He shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What the hell is the matter with you? You could have gotten hurt. You probably are.”

Leon is getting angrier, you can tell by the way the furrowed eyebrows deepen and his frown morphs into a glower, as he utters each sentence.

“I’m sorry.” That's all you can say. It's all that comes to mind.

“Sorry won’t make up for the scars you've gotten.” he retorts angrily.

Now you're mirroring his expression. You’re angry and tired as well. Definitely not as tired as him but still tired. “You’re acting as if I didn't have a good reason to run.” you petulantly cross your arms, akin to a child not getting a toy from the store.

Leon wasn’t delusional. Back in the day, when he was a rookie cop, in some aspects he was delusional. However, as the years continue to pass so does his past self. Leon understands what he has done to you is inhumane, but he can’t help it. He kept you locked away for a reason. You won’t get hurt with him by your side.

Leon sighs, closing his eyes and leaning closer with his forearms on the table. “I know, I know.”

You tilt your head, “really? So, why are you mad at me?”

His eyes open, displaying icy-blue orbs. They hold Empathy in them. Empathy Leon has a difficult time communicating to you.

“I keep you in the house for your safety.” He began, taking your hands into his own. “To keep our relationship safe.”

“But I don’t want a relationship with you.”

“I know.”

“So why are you forcing me to stay with you?!”

Leon’s hands squeezed yours, provoking a cry out of you. “All my life I’ve been a generous man. I saved many and gave up my life for others. I’m always providing for someone else and rarely caring for myself. And the one thing I yearn for to the point I was convinced I deserved it. It was you.”

For a beat, he ceases his gabbing. Leon stares down at your connected hands, his thumb starts rubbing against the back of your hand. It’s a domestic act that earns your displeasure.

“For once, allow me to be selfish,” he mumbles, eyes slowly trailing up to meet yours. His lips press your hand, giving it a chaste kiss. “You’re the only thing I’ll fight to keep for myself.”

Part of you wishes the relationship was normal. Leon truly did care for you, and you still cared for him, But he did something unforgiving. He took away your free will.

“...you can’t just steal a person, Leon. You can’t expect me to love you.”

“I don’t.”

“So why won’t you let me go? You still have Ada, don’t you? You were more into her than me. Why isn’t she in my position?”

“Because I love you, not her. You haven't betrayed me. Well, not until now.” he jokes, letting out a faint chuckle.

Leon pulls out his wallet, his fingers sliding through the pockets to find his card. “Wrap your food up. We’re leaving.” he puts his wallet back in his back pocket, “Be right back. Stay here.” he commanded sternly.

The waitress is at the bar, cleaning the counter with a blue rag. Leon approaches her with an “Excuse me.”

Leon put too much faith in you because you were on your feet immediately when his back was turned. You quietly inched towards the door and ever so slowly dragged the door inwards. Leon was distracted, the waitress deciding she’d flirt with him despite seeing you and him together. You manage to slip through the door before Leon notices your second escape attempt.

You bolt out the door when you hear the enraged roar of your name from behind. You grip the railing to the stairs, running down them, tripping a couple of times. You don’t look but you know Leon’s on your tail. The door slams against the wall, the bell ringing loudly.

“Y/n, get back here!”

Amanda’s car was still parked by the gas pump. You sprint towards it, slipping through the tight space of the car and the gas pump. Luckily for you, Amanda was in the car, applying her strawberry-pink lipstick.

“Amanda!” you shout, startling her enough that she drags the lipstick across her cheek. She shouts, frightened by your sudden appearance. She looks at you, like you're crazy. She says your name to clarify the person at her window, “What are you doing.”

You shake your head, “yo-you gotta help me, he-” you say breathlessly.

“Hey, Amanda.” you hear Leon’s voice call out. Unlike you, he isn’t out of breath. Thanks to his military training. Amanda peeks her head out the window, she smiles waving at Leon. “Hey, Lee!”

Your eyes widen till it’s physically impossible to widen anymore. She knows Leon. Your body feels numb as you watch them interact like old friends. You feel like you aren’t real at the moment. Like you're watching the scene unfold outside your body.

“Sorry, she just came back from the hospital. She isn’t in her right mind right now.” Leon excuses, leading you to his car like a shepherd's dog guiding the sheep to its pen.

Amanda nods as she understands completely. “No worries, I’m just glad I found her before she hurt herself.”

Leon puts you in the passenger seat and closes the vehicle door. The keys lock the door from the inside, so you are left choiceless.

Leon joins you in the driver’s seat, definitely too angered to chide you. He seethed quietly, powering on the engine with the quick twist of the car keys.

Wordlessly, you buckle up. You wouldn’t make an endeavor to anger Leon any further.

You’d allow him to be selfish. Allow him to have you.

What other option did you have now?

[reveluving]

anything and everything ; paddy feld x reader x max

summary: it’s them and their girl against the fucking world.

warnings: s~mut obv (minors DNI!), Max & Paddy in general (if you've seen the movies, you know how they are. but! they're pretty tame here), minor character death (deserved; horrible ex + cheating but it's okay, you win in the end) including minor mentions of blood & breaking bones type of violence, Paddy & Max would do anything for you.

a/n: ta-da!! you don't know how excited I was to write this. had to rewrite a few things but I was too into the idea, I didn't mind kdlsajk and mind you, it's EXTRA nasty in this one, so, keep that in mind! please enjoy, take care & don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

» wanna know what I have in store this fall? come & check out this year's 'reve's quirky reverie' m.list! 🕷️'!

» smut includes: mildly DARK fic! mm4f, size kink, lovestruck & possessive (slightly mean) doms!paddy & max, shy-esque mc, ‘baby’ & ‘pretty girl’ as petnames, dirty talking, facesitting/oral s~ex (both f & m receiving, clothed(?) too), spit & tit play, marking, spanking, brief mentions of blood play (doesn’t happen), brief mentions of age gap (legal & consenting!!), teasing & mentions of punishment, did I mention possessive paddy & max yet?

'And it all came down to that very moment, in the middle of nowhere past two in the morning.' ;

Paddy’s fingers thrummed along the shape of the steering wheel, subtly displaying his excitement even at such an hour. The music coming from the radio was partially his saving grace from the fairly long drive but the anticipation of what was to come expelled any form of restlessness in his body.

The road he took practically didn’t exist on the map, but he had no problem navigating his destination the deeper he went into the woods, not when he had taken the route many times for the past couple of months for this very moment.

Slowly yet surely, he spotted a familiar car, the headlights remaining on were enough for Paddy to see a man overlooking something before him. He knew his landlord long enough to recognize the large, taller frame in the distance. He spotted the bundle of clothes by his feet, along with the rocks of different sizes next to it, and Paddy knew he had begun.

Good thing, too, for it was mere hours before your alarm would go off, and they wanted to be by your side as soon as you opened your pretty eyes.

Without wasting any time, Paddy turned the engine of his car off before exiting the vehicle, sauntering over to his good friend—your other partner—and standing next to him.

“Took you long enough.” Max scoffed, though largely jesting to get under Paddy’s skin.

“She slept later than usual.” Paddy explained, one corner of his lips quirking at the memory of mere hours ago, of him snuggling you against him, lulling you to sleep with kisses and pats before quietly leaving the unit once he was confident you were truly out like a light.

“She couldn’t sleep?” Max glanced at his friend, a hint of worry in his rich voice, to which Paddy shook his head.

“She’s just excited for tomorrow.” Ah, Halloween.

Max hummed in understanding, then cut the conversation, or at least, the subject short. As much as he’d love to ask how you were doing, he and Paddy had business to take care of, and the ‘business’ in question stood right in the trench before them.

Chad, or really, they’d just prefer to call him ‘your ex’, stood naked in the ditch, shivering and battered from Max’s need to pour his frustration out on him an hour prior—remembering all the stories you’d tell them of how he had the gall to swoop in and take you from them, even if you weren’t theirs yet. 

It was one thing to steal you from them, but it was another to treat you like you were worth less than cheap dirt. Manipulating you into thinking his mistreatments were just you ‘being a big baby’ or accusing you of how ‘possessive’ you were when he would ‘just casually talk’ to other women when you found the bravery to break up with him a year ago.

But were they really surprised by a pompous man, no, boy, with dodgy secrets? Spending his old money on pointless luxuries and meeting up with low lives behind his old girlfriends’ backs, including yours. It was a good thing you were out of the relationship earlier than his previous exes, but fuck, if Paddy and Max didn’t want to gouge his eyes out for even mistreating you in the first place. 

They could never forget the tears in your eyes and on your cheek when you stopped by, reassuring them with a wobbly smile that you had ended the relationship, but not without seeing the man’s true colours by berating you for leaving him.

But that was in the past. The months that came after were nothing but bliss, for you and them. You didn’t think Paddy nor Max were open to the idea—the three of you—but you were proven wrong. You should’ve expected it, though, with how Paddy and Max were more or less alike, including but not limited to their ‘innocent’ flirting with you before it all went down.

But it wasn’t just the relationship that had them in high spirits.

It wasn’t hard to find his information online—the sucker was as terrible as an ‘influencer’ nowadays, and it was even easier to air his secrets out, destroying relationships including with his own family and even transferring most of his savings to shelters because why the hell not. 

At one point, Max couldn’t resist taking a video of the poor guy borderline begging the lady he cheated with when you were still together at their usual meeting spot at a bar.

He and Paddy had the time of their lives watching the embarrassing scene, even anonymously sharing it on his hacked account before days later, Paddy tampered with the same woman’s drink enough for her to overdose and successfully framed your ex ‘as revenge for public humiliation’. 

Yes, the past few months were priceless, to say the least.

But they never spent the whole time ruining the man’s life all the time, no, they had a beloved to take care of. The time to ruin lives could come whenever they pleased, but not precious moments with you.

Besides, wasn’t it more entertaining to drag out one’s victim’s despair just a little longer? The reactions to their downfall mattered, after all.

And it all came down to that very moment, in the middle of nowhere past two in the morning.

“Doesn't look like he's got a lot of fight in ‘em.” Paddy snorted.

“Good.” Max replied, short but well-pleased.

“Hey, man…” Chad croaked, and Max and Paddy immediately grimaced, “I didn't think she meant that much to you…. Honest…”

The two rolled their eyes in annoyance.

“At least think of a better lie, kid,” Max sighed, “‘s'not like we'd let you go if you did.”

Paddy huffed, amused at the truth in his words. If anything, they'd be doing the world a favour, removing a little parasite—yours, theirs, his ‘friends’ and exes, and hell, even his family—all while getting to call you theirs.

But, it was satisfying to see the pathetic sod being, well, pathetic. A way better look on him than the infuriatingly cocky façade he'd put up around others for whatever the hell he was leering for then.

“I’m not..! I–C'mon, I didn't even lay a hand on her–” Chad reasoned weakly, only to further set them off.

“You better pray you fucking didn't.” Paddy snarled. He and Max knew he didn't, but it didn't ease their anger any less because, at the end of the day, he still manipulated you in some way, using a few tricks to make you seem like you were the ‘overthinking’ one even if it didn't entirely work. 

At the end of the day, he did you harm.

“Alright, y'got anything else to say, kid?” Max leaned his weight on one leg, adjusting the black gloves he had been wearing since he dragged the guy in the middle of nowhere. Paddy, too, put on his gloves as he turned around, all while eyeing the rocks.

“Wait, wait, wait—” Chad spoke in urgency, his teeth chattering from the chilly air, “I can pay up! I won’t tell anybody shit about this–”

“No, you won’t,” Max agreed as he interjected, honestly not wanting to listen to him anymore, “Not especially her name out of your mouth.”

Against his better judgement, Chad had the gall to shout at the mere mention of you.

“Her?” He yelled, his annoyance picking back when Max brought your name up multiple times during this whole thing, “Why the fuck does she matter to you that much anywa–” 

Crunch.

Chad's head whipped to the side as the sizable rock Paddy threw landed at his temple, the sound horrific but satisfying to the two.

“Easy,” Max drawled, swiftly picking up a rock and inspecting it, “No fun in killing him already.” 

“You wanna listen to him talk ‘bout her like that?” Paddy grunted, chest rising and falling at the audacity of a man who was on the brink of death.

“Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm pissed,” Max replied coolly, hiding his temper behind nonchalance. He felt the weight of the rock he held before eyeing Chad with a dangerous look, “But the head? Pat, come on, we made it this far. Play around with him a little.” 

Paddy didn't have the time to reply as Max held the rock above him before throwing it, aiming right at Chad's leg with almost the same, if not, a nastier sound of impact than when Paddy threw it. 

Chad yowled, falling to the ground before groaning in sheer pain. He could only sob on the ground, specks of dirt already in his eyes and mouth.

“See?” Max smiled cruelly, “Make him feel it, just like she had to.”

Just speaking of it riled him up just as it did to Paddy. They wanted to finally, finally get it rid of him, sure, but there was no harm in having fun with it just a little longer. They'd clean up the mess anyway, might as well say their final goodbyes to the son of a bitch for good.

“Yeah… Yeah, alright.” Paddy mirrored his friend's cold-blooded contentment, picking up another rock, this time, hoping to break any parts of his bones without instantly killing him just yet.

And just like that, Chad wished for his ultimate death as they prolonged his torture.

You, back in Paddy’s unit, were none the wiser, slowly from your deep sleep. You turned, anticipating Paddy upon opening your bleary eyes, only to blink at the sight of Max, watching you with a warm smile as he lay on his side.

“Good morning, beautiful.” He greeted, bringing his hand to your face and caressing your cheek.

“G'morning…” You murmured with a shy smile, hiding one side of your face in the pillow.

“Oh, no, don't do that now,” Max chuckled, “Don't hide that pretty face from me.”

Even half asleep, he could make you giggle first thing in the morning.

“How'd you sleep?” He asked, his voice almost enough to lull you back to sleep.

“Good,” You responded, unaware of their little escapade hours ago. You yawned, “You?”

“Like a baby,” He grinned, causing your heart to flutter. In reality, he hadn't had a wink of sleep since he and Paddy drove back home, but the adrenaline of putting the bastard down gave him more than enough energy to see you, “Come here.”

Max gently led you to his lap, encouraging you to straddle his hips while resting your head on his chest, “Atta girl.”

You couldn't resist relaxing in his arms, not when he was so warm and comfortable, and he didn't want you to do so either, kissing the crown of your head while his hands slid up and down your sides.

But you knew Max long enough to know his touches didn't always stay innocent as his hands roamed lower and lower and lower before reaching the hem of your nightdress.

You eyed him suspiciously, “Max…”

He just hummed, leaning in to kiss your temple and cheek, “That's me.” 

You huffed at his wits, only for your eyes to flutter shut as his hands roamed under the fabric, “Max, c'mon, I just woke up…”

You were a little worried about your morning breath and how you looked from just waking up, but he was having none of it.

“Can't hear you.” He drawled lowly against your skin, pulling you closer so he could latch his lips onto your neck. You jolted at the feeling of Max's palms gripping and kneading your ass, your body only growing tauter when a third hand slid up the curve of your back.

 trick-or-treaters“Starting without me, pretty girl?” Paddy cooed, leaning in to kiss your cheek, the other side that Max hadn't touched yet.

“Paddy…” You whimpered, and as soon as you turned your head to look at him, briefly noticing he was shirtless, he slotted his lips against yours, the fingers of his other hand brushing along your neck before descending to your clothed breasts.

The haziness in your mind grew more than when you woke up, feeling pairs of lips and hands mark your body with vigour.

Max sat up, forcing you and Paddy to break the kiss as he slid the straps of your dress down your shoulders.

Paddy took a seat on the edge of the mattress, kissing your shoulder from behind, feeling his spine-chilling groans reverberating against your back. 

And with two sick minds thinking alike, images of you covered in your ex’s blood in between them fueled their uncontrollable desires. Too bad every last drop of it had to be drained for obvious reasons. But it wouldn't hurt to imagine what could've been every once in a while. 

So long the deed was done. 

Good riddance, bitch.

Paddy pulled at your tits between his fingers, the same time Max nipped at the space between your neck and shoulder, leaving the barest hint of mark that begged to be darker. 

More long-lasting, prominent for the world to see.

“How ‘bout it, baby? Think you can for a quick round before we let you go?” Max asked. They could've convinced you to stay in bed longer if not for the candies you had promised to buy before the last minute in the afternoon for trick-or-treaters tonight.

“We'll take good care of you.” Paddy added, as they always did.

You pleaded with the two with a look that was to die for and it wouldn't take long for them to act upon your request, leaving you in your pretty undies, almost tearing off your sleepwear when they removed the pesky article.

Max was eager to lay on his back, encouraging you to move back a little and position your ass just above his face, making you face Paddy, whose pants were off, teasing you by fondling his prominent tent with a smug smile.

You weren't sure whether to focus on him or Max’s cock standing tall each time you looked down, awaiting your soft lips and its careful licks.

You jumped at Max’s playful slaps and massages of your ass, prompting Paddy to coo as he neared until his shins touched the bed.

“Playin’ a lil’ rough, isn’t he, baby?” He cradled your jaw, almost condescendingly mimicking your parted lips as Max licked you through the flimsy panties. He gently led your head by the chin to his bulge and sighed in contentment, “Yeah, that’s my good girl.”

“My good girl.” Max grunted, biting his lips upon moving your panties to the side before licking a big stripe along your pussylips like a man starved, even more so when he couldn’t help but spank you three more consecutive times, downright suffocating himself when trapped your thighs around his head.

“Max…” You cried into Paddy’s tented pants, nuzzling him like it would calm Max down, but they couldn’t blame you, knowing your mind was already mush. 

You could already imagine the familiar beard burns decorating your inner thighs.

Paddy pouted, “Baby, ‘m’feeling a lil’ lonely,” Brushing your bottom lip with his thumb, he stared at your through lidded eyes, “You know what t’do, yeah?”

You did, you always did.

Keeping your eyes on him, you mouthed along the girth of him, leaving little trails of drool because ‘there is nothing sexier than our sweet girl making a mess out of them’. Their words, not yours.

Giving a low growl, he slid his sweatpants down for you, “That’s it.”

He didn’t bother putting on boxers, already anticipating such ‘morning routine’ if he and Max were going to make it until the evening before they could get their hands on you again.

Of course, that didn’t mean they’d play nice behind closed doors when the trick-or-treaters weren’t around.

His pants dropped to the floor with a soft thud, his hard cock ached for you if the subtle twitches were anything to go by.

But Max, still eating you out and practically leaving marks on your behind, shoved his tongue into you just a tad deeper, reminding you that he, too, needed you.

You could only let a little glob of drool drip onto Max’s cock, then slowly wrapped your fingers around it before sliding your hand down to the base. Paddy clenched his jaw, greedy for the same treatment when Max bucked into your hand. He loosened just a tad bit when you finally leaned in, taking a small, cautious lick at the tip of him.

Somehow, somehow, Max knew your teasing behaviour and brought his palm down on your already sensitive rear. You weren’t sure how he wasn’t begging for air at this point the more your thighs tightened around him—if only you knew how much he wouldn’t mind dying that way.

Paddy tutted in disapproval, gently tapping his cock on your cheek, “Not very nice of you.”

“Think she deserves a little punishment?” Max spoke against your cunt, spreading your cheeks and downright spitting at your hole.

“I’m sure she can handle a few,” Paddy responded, eyes rolling back when you moaned around him the more he pushed himself into your mouth. He continued through gritted teeth, “And then, we’ll give her everything. Just like she deserves.”

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

» a/n: this was initially a standalone fic for Max but then I was like mmm OMG what about with Max and Negan but then... I also wanted to write for Paddy, so... yeah ;; gorgeous divider by @firefly-graphics ♡

[natailiatulls07]

Drive to survive

Charles Leclerc & leclerc!driver!reader

Summary - Netflix's drive to survive interviews Y/n and Charles Leclerc about something that caused immense issues

Warning - Cheating, car crash, panic attack, fire, crying, swearing and self doubt

Reader drives for Ferrari

Purple is flashbacks

-

Y/n Leclerc, Ferrari

"Hello, I'm Y/n Leclerc. I'm 24 years old and I race for Ferrari alongside my twin brother, Charles Leclerc" I sat in the seat just in front of the camera, my anxiety throw the roof. My last season had ended on a bad note, with some personal troubles effecting my focus on track.

The producer settled herself down just to the side of the camera with a hand full of questions and topics that we would talk through for Netflix. "How are you feeling right now?"

Taking a deep breath in and out before answering. "yeah..I think I'm good. but yet I guess I'll have to be" A nervous chuckle left my lips which earned me a look of sympathy from the producer.

Looking down at her paper, she prepared herself to ask the first question. "So how do you feel after your ending last year?" Her voice calm and collected, as if she wanted me to feel that energy, this was what I was grateful for.

It took me a second of debating, debating my answer. "Um yeah, I mean it was a hard time obviously...I had some personal problems regarding my relationship and unfortunately that had its effect on my performance" A pause to think over my answer. "Of course I should not have um let that effect my performance, which I am greatly disappointed at myself for"

-

Walking into my appartment, I noticed the absence of Theo in the open plan kitchen lounge. I searched further into the appartment. Thats where I saw Theo in my bed with another girl.

Tears were welling up in my eyes, I had been dating him since I was just twenty but yet he decided to throw that away for some girl. "What the fuck?!" Shock, betrayal and heartbreak. Thats all I felt.

That night I kicked him and his sidechick out of my appartment, wanting to see nothing of them ever again. Luckily my three brothers were coming round that evening. So when they saw me, cheeks burned with tears, they knew something happened.

~

It was the last grand prix of the season, Abu Dhabi, I was sat in p4 just awaiting for the five red lights to flash away. My head was clogged with that day, the day I got heartbroken. "Radio check, radio check" My race engineers voice came through my headset.

"Loud and clear..." Voice low and weary as I replied.

"Y/n...you can do it, just forget and clear your mind" He knew of my heartache, heck everyone knew, wanting nothing more for me to end the season on a high note.

That race was my worst race to date. I didn't finish it. It was the Abu Dhabi race where I crashed, the Abu Dhabi race where I just sat by my burning car tangled up in a panic attack. I couldn't control my breathing or my mind.

Not my finest hour, in my opinion it was my very worse.

-

Looking down at my lap, I could see my leg persistantly bumping up and down. It was hard to talk about that time. "What was your first instinct to your crash?" The producer asked her next question.

Once again my mind was casted back to that night. "Well um I remember that after I got out of my car, I couldn't stop crying and I couldn't control my breathing. I was having a panic attack and I just couldn't calm myself down"

-

It was loud. I could hear the safety team trying to calm down the fire. I could hear fans watching on from the sidelines. I could hear my race engineer trying to calm me down through my headset. I felt like I was moving away from the real world every second.

My mind couldn't focus on one thing. I felt the warmth of the fire on my body. I felt the hands of a safety team member trying to bring me back down to earth.

~

When Charles heard the red flag through his radio, his mind went straight to Y/n. Where was Y/n? Is Y/n okay? Growing up Charles grew more and more protective of his twin.

So when he saw her car and herself not in attendance of the Ferrari, he became even the more distressed. But when he saw the crash on the large television screen, he set off run towards it much to the team dismay.

Charles ran until he reached the burn car. He saw her sat there curled up in her arms.

"Bébé bébé peux-tu m'entendre? Je suis là, souffle souffle écoute mon coeur" He pulled her into himself, moving her head to rest just above his heart. Wanting her to hear his heartbeat and copy it.

Charles knew of her panic attacks, he watched them grow worse and worse as they grew up. But he always knew how to help her, calm her down and breath.

-

Charles Leclerc, Ferrari

"How did you feel when you saw your teammate and sister crash and then have a panic attack?" The producer asked the 25 year old Ferrari driver.

His eyes downcasted, that night was his nightmare. "I remember feeling um this sense of terror fill me when I saw her crash. Aside from being my teammate at Ferrari, Y/n is my twinsister. She's has always had her panic attacks but that night..." Charles felt his eye water up even at the thought.

"That night was the worst panic attack she has ever had, I don't think I'll recover from that night" Standing up from his chair, Charles walked away from the camera. Tears flooding down his cheeks.

-

Y/n Leclerc, Ferrari

"It was only when Charles came that I started to come back down to earth. It's always when he comes that I come back." It was always Charles who helped me through my panic attacks.

Charles. He has been my rock ever since forever. He had been my rock when times got rough and tough. Before each race checking on me and everyday checking on me. He knew how hard I was taking my breakup and just wanted to help me through that.

Once again, I took in another deep breath, trying to distance myself from that night. "So 2023, how are you feeling about returning to Ferrari with Charles by your side?" The producer continued.

A small smile made its way to my face. "Yeah um I'm excited of course. I love racing, I love getting behind that wheel and fighting for a place on the podium, fighting for first place" Nodding my head, with approval of my comment.

"Well thank you so much for talking with us today, I know it's hard to talk about something like that" The camera were cut off, we both stood up from our seats.

Walking out of the studio, I felt a sense of relief and solace fall on my shoulders. This replacing the deep sorrow and disappointment.

-

I heard my appartment door open and close. Walking into the kitchen lounge, Charles had a proud smile on his face. "Whats got you smile like that?" I laughed at my confusion, Charles joining in with my amused laughter.

"Lucy, your manager, just called me and she told me about your interview with Netflix today...I'm so proud of you baby sis" His tears cloud his waterline whilst tears of my own clouded my own.

Finally, I had gotten over my anxiety and my regret. I could breath again.

-

[chaotic-orphan]

Intoxicating Fear (XVIII)

New Player on the board

Part one // Masterpost // Continued from here

This part is dedicated to @neongalaxiie for their comment that made me smile today, I hope you enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*

Ambrose got Kit into the car with relative simplicity. He was surprisingly lighter than before, which didn’t concern Ambrose. Not at all, it was just some information he stored in his head in case he needed it in future. Perhaps this time Ambrose can actually feed the hero properly…

Well, he could decide all that on the way. Right now he had to decide whether or not to throw the hero in the boot or in the backseat. He settled on the backseat, it was easier to keep an eye on the hero in case that red lightning guy came back.

Ambrose suppressed a shiver at the thought of that. That thing wasn’t Kit Mallory. Or, not the one Ambrose knew anyways. It did add to his curiosity about the boy, what kind of life he lived with Mentor. Ambrose set him in the backseat sitting up, hands cuffed in front of him with power dampeners just in case. He strapped the seatbelt over Kit and plugged it in before slamming the door shut and walking around to the driver’s side.

Ambrose didn’t exactly drive… under the radar. He was what his assistant would call a petrolhead, and it wasn’t a nickname he loathed. Ambrose had loved cars since he was five and his parents brought him to a vintage car show. He could still remember the first time he sat behind the wheel of a 1954 Bentley R-Type continental, he knew that he had to have one. A car that was, not a Bentley, he wasn’t some wedding chauffeur.

His obsession with cars only grew from there, from his first Volkswagen to now. His beast, his beauty, his pride and joy: a 2016 Rolls-Royce Wraith, with a monster 6.5 Litre Twin-Turbo V12 engine under the bonnet, custom painted black exterior. He had to get Tony to paint the door handles too (who almost cried when she saw it). Ambrose replaced the original wheels with forgiato wheels to add to the sleekness of the car. Original white, leather interior still as good as the day Ambrose bought it.

He loved it more than anything in the world.

And it was all his.

It represented everything that he wanted people to associate with him. Elegant, opulent, and functional, above all functional. The grace, style and status were just perks that came along with it.

It was late, close to ten when Ambrose got onto the main road. He could take the quick way through the backstreets to his house, but he hadn’t seen the city of like lights for what felt like a long, long time. He took the left into the city and drove along at a leisurely pace.

The radio was playing softly in the background, the Wraith’s purrs making up most of the background noise. Ambrose let out a soft sigh as he pulled up to a red light. He glanced in his rearview to see Kit still fast asleep. No red veins or blue ones, his head lolled against the window.

There was something so innocent about the gesture that made Ambrose look sharply away, eyes turning front again. He never had a little brother or sister, but in that moment, some small part of him — some delusional, sentimental part — wondered if this was what it was like. Checking the rearview to make sure that his brother was sleeping soundly, that he wasn’t showing any signs of pain or distress, or psychotic mania.

He wondered if he would be a good older brother in this hypothetical. Then he quickly disregarded the thought. Such a silly little thought experiment. Besides, of course he would be a good older brother. He would be the best, hands down, no doubt about it. Even if his passenger in the backseat would disagree.

His mind was wandering dangerously, simply because it was so quiet. It had to be because it was quiet, so Ambrose turned up the radio louder, but the song that was playing just ended. Instead a news reporter started speaking urgently.

Ambrose shook his head, tapping his fingers on the wheel when the light turned green just beside Hero plaza: well, Mentor’s memorial garden, more specifically.

“Stay out of the city tonight, there is a rogue Villain, perhaps Supervi—”

Ambrose didn’t get to hear the rest of the news report. When the light turned green he was already moving past the intersection, heading straight, driving through the Hero Plaza in the centre of the city.

His eyes were fixed forward so he didn’t see the hailstorm of debris from a shattered building coming from the right. He didn’t see the Supervillain levitating where Mentor’s statue should have been.

Ambrose didn’t see what was happening to his right. More like he heard it. A sudden onslaught of panicked thoughts that weren’t his raced through his mind and he panicked along with them.

What! They’re never this strong! Not unless— Ambrose glanced to his right and saw Villain levitating ten metres off the ground. As if meeting his gaze, the villain threw his hands forward and a hailstorm of debris went racing towards them.

Ambrose hit the gas, manoeuvring the gears quickly as he took off. The debris fell behind the Wraith, some stones clipping the tail end as he swerved a sharp corner, trying to cut off Villain’s eyesight from the car.

Of course, this was the same moment that Kit woke up. His head hit off the window of the car and he groaned, reaching his hands up to rub the bump. “Ambrose?”

Ambrose’s black eyes caught Kit’s in the rearview mirror. Something hard in them alerting Kit to the danger. “We have a problem.”

“A problem?”

Just as Ambrose was about to drive back into Villain’s sight line, debris like meteorites fell in front of them, tearing up the road ahead of the Wraith. Ambrose slammed his foot on the brakes and the pair jolted forwards in their seats.

“What’s going on?!” Kit demanded, searching the windows to try and see what the commotion was all about. Behind them Kit could see a pile up of cars, people screaming and sirens already blaring. “Ambrose!”

Ambrose’s grip on the wheel was white-knuckled, his face paler than usual as his chest heaved up and down. “There’s a Villain by Mentor’s memorial garden.”

“What?! Let me out!”

Ambrose didn’t reply. Kit went to unhook his seatbelt but Ambrose stopped him. “Kit! It looks like they have telekinesis,” Ambrose said through clenched teeth.

It felt as if the debris fell on Kit’s chest, crushing it from the inside out. A disbelieving what? fell from his lips. His vision seemed to narrow to a pinpoint, his lungs slowing his breaths. His voice raised a little hysterically: “what do you mean they have telekinesis?”

“It’s just what I saw.”

“Well you saw wrong!” Kit argued, his eyes wide and desperate. “The chances of another telekinetic—”

“I know—”

“Do you hear what you’re saying?! There’s no way—”

“I KNOW!” Ambrose barked. His own emotions thrown through a loop at the information.

A long, choking silence passed between them, though they were both thinking the same thing: that Villain can’t be Mentor.

~*~*~*~

Four blocks away a new Supervillain was making their mark in front of the Hero plaza. He was levitating off the ground, bits of debris from Mentor’s memorial statue circling around him like moons of Saturn.

Superhero tried not to think about how much this Supervillain reminded him of Mentor. He really tried not to think about it, but he couldn’t stop himself. The likeness was uncanny, and it was rare for two people with the same abilities to emerge in the same city. It happened but it was rare.

Telekinesis. And not just that, a mastery of his ability, how effortless the destruction seemed to him. An unwillingness to yield.

This must be Supervillain, and if it was Superhero was hesitant to engage. Which sounded terrible as the leader of the Heroes but, even leader’s get scared.

Supervillain was fighting four seasoned Heroes and Superhero all at once — not to mention Tides who was the only new recruit there — without breaking a sweat. Superhero had tried to call Kit, but no luck. Supervillain’s face was covered by a mask and he wore civilian clothes, as if this was a casual affair for him. Like he just walked off the streets and decided, why not cause some chaos? Sirens and emergency services rushed to the scene of people in need, people who had been hit by the debris.

Thankfully, it looked to be a small amount of casualties due to how late it was, but still. Something was wrong with the scene, and Superhero needed to find out what. If that Supervillain… was actually Mentor or not.

And if so, how? How was he here? Why had he escaped and turned out like this? What was going on?! A Supervillain? Threatening the city? That wasn’t Mentor’s way… unless this was Omen’s plan all along, to destroy the legacy of a great man. To make the great man a monster and destroy it himself.

Supervillain inclined his head at Superhero, raising his hand palm up and flexing his fingers goading Superhero into a fight. Superhero lunged for him, bouncing from one building towards Supervillain. When he was in mid-air, Supervillain made a wide sweeping gesture with his arm and a hurricane of rocks and concrete hurtled towards Superhero.

He dodged between the initial wave, but he didn’t expect the second. Mentor’s stone arm caught him around the waist and the pair went flying into a building.

While Superhero was distracted, Supervillain turned his attention to Tides. He aimed for the water under her feet keeping her in the air, wiping it away with a sweep of his arm. Tides cried out as she started to fall, but Supervillain caught her, keeping her suspended in mid-air.

Superhero recovered quickly, and went soaring again, taking the wind in his wings with a grin. It felt so good to let them out again. His eyes zeroed in on Supervillain, hoping he would realise Superhero was behind him too late and they could all go home and sleep in their beds tonight.

At the last second, right before Superhero made contact with Supervillain, Supervillain turned their head to Superhero. Superhero’s eyes widened but it was too late, they had committed to the movement, already in mid air. With a sweep of his hand, Supervillain sent Superhero back two blocks, tumbling onto a rooftop. His wings wrapped around him cushioning his fall as he rolled.

Supervillain turned back to Tides who was struggling in his hold and shot towards her. He grabbed her by the neck, and threw her down onto a roof behind her. Tides almost passed out from the impact, her entire body arching as breath was stolen from her lungs. Her body bounced off the concrete, like she was a rag-doll being thrown before rolling to a stop, gasping in air. Supervillain followed her with easy steps, before kicking her onto her back and standing above her. He pressed his foot down on her chest.

“Where’s Malyn?” Supervillain asked, tilting his head. Tides cried out as Supervillain’s foot gathered telekinesis behind it and forced her down into the concrete, cracking the roof around her. A small crater Tides shaped now etched on the rooftop.

“I won’t tell you,” Tides said through gritted teeth. The pressure increased and Tides screamed, her hands flying to Supervillain’s ankle and clawing at it, trying to get it to budge. Supervillain put his hands in his trouser pockets, as if this were a casual conversation, like he wasn’t even breaking a sweat.

“Tell me or I’ll break every bone in your body, Tides.”

Tides abandoned trying to dislodge Supervillain’s foot, and instead gathered a canon of water behind him. She splayed her fingers and the canon blasted towards Supervillain before losing momentum as Tides let out a blood-curling scream.

Her wrist snapped like a twig, leaving her arm useless as she tried to summon water. The pain was blinding, but Supervillain didn’t let up for a second, moving his foot idly from her chest to her broken wrist.

“Where,” Supervillain asked again, leaning forward so more of his weight pressed on Tides’ wrist. “Is Malyn?”

“I don’t know,” Tides cried out, her mind going blank as the pain burned through her, tears blinding her. “I don’t know! I don’t!”

“Hmm,” Supervillain hummed above her. “I don’t believe you.”

Tides screwed her eyes shut and looked away, not wanting to see the final blow coming. She wasn’t masochistic enough for that, quite happy to live in blissful ignorance.

Then the pressure was suddenly off her with a thump of body meeting body and Tides' eyes flew open. Supervillain was gone, and Tides took to sobbing. She glanced at her mangled wrist and felt bile climbing her throat. Every breath was an effort as she tried to sit up and failed, opting to just lay on the roof, motionless and cry.

Superhero shot like a bullet, barreling into the new Supervillain and flying away from the city to the local park instead where there would be far less casualties. Superhero threw Villain down to the ground with a terrifying force and floated down after him.

~*~*~*~

Ambrose kicked the car into reverse just as Kit saw two figures flying over the night sky. “Ambrose! We have to go after them! That’s Superhero!”

Ambrose hooked his arm over the passenger seat, turning to look back out the window as they reversed.

“Do I look like I care?” Ambrose asked, meeting Kit’s glare. “Genuine question, Mallory. Do I look like I give a shit what happens to the number one fuck up in the city? Cause if I do, I need to fix that.”

“This isn’t some joke! Stop the car. Let me out! Let me go, Ambrose.”

“No.”

“That could be Mentor!” Kit yelled after Ambrose turned front again and manoeuvred around the debris in the road. Kit huffed out a breath through his nose reaching for his seatbelt.

“Don’t touch your seatbelt if you know what’s good for you, Kit, I swear to God. I will knock you out again.”

Desperation rose in Kit’s stomach as Ambrose took a backstreet shortcut to get out of the city. Kit could only watch as they passed the park. Superhero was hovering over the trees, throwing a body down into the grass when Ambrose sped past.

~*~*~*~

Supervillain rolled until he gained ground beneath his fingertips and got to his feet two metres away from Superhero.

“Who are you?!” Superhero demanded, voice livid.

Supervillain tilted his head but said nothing. Superhero’s lip curled back into a snarl and he shot off again, leaving a small crater where his feet were. Flying wasn’t exactly a great superpower, but it was what Superhero had and he learned to use it to his advantage in fights.

He flew at Supervillain, drawing his fist back with a roar and aimed for Supervillain’s cheek. Supervillain lifted his forearm, diverting the blow. He punched Superhero in the gut, a jab, then an uppercut. Superhero dodged back, pushing off his heels as his hands outstretched going for Supervillain’s porcelain mask.

Supervillain ducked, swiping Superhero’s legs out from under him. Superhero dropped, his back barely hitting the ground before he launched himself towards Supervillain.

Supervillain moved with speed and grace, as if he’d been fighting all his life, and he didn’t even seem to be breaking a sweat. Superhero, on the other hand, was tiring quickly, not used to the amount of power and focus he was using to try and land a hit on Supervillain.

Supervillain went to sweep his arm. Superhero caught it with a death grip, grinned and spun. Planting his left foot in the ground he pivoted and threw Supervillain as far as he could. Supervillain went flying backwards, getting caught in the leaves of a tree. The branches split and broke around him, a tear in the earth opening from where Supervillain had split the tree open to let himself down.

He wiped the leaves off his shoulders and Superhero grinned. Maybe he can be beaten. Superhero launched himself at Supervillain again, not giving him a chance to recover.

“Enough playtime.” Supervillain said.

Supervillain lifted a hand lazily and Superhero froze in mid-air, the air turned against him, freezing him in place. Superhero’s eyes widened. That’s not possible. There’s no way that he’s… that that’s Mentor, there’s…

Villain walked slowly towards Superhero, taking his sweet time about it. He stopped in front of Superhero, mask to face. “Don’t you recognise me, Superhero?”

Superhero flinched at the voice. It was disguised, which… no, there’s no way that was Mentor. Mentor was always transparent and never wore a mask. He wouldn’t.

But then again… that’s when Mentor was a hero, a symbol of peace and justice in the city.

Villain reached out and grabbed a fistful of Superhero’s hair, yanking his head back. Superhero grit his teeth but didn’t cry out. “Where’s Malyn?”

Superhero’s shock must have shown on his face. “What?”

Villain yanked their neck back farther and Superhero couldn’t contain the groan from the strain. “Malyn. I want him. Now. Where. Is. He?”

Superhero frowned. Surely Mentor would know where Kit lived? But then… no, he wouldn’t. Kit moved after Omen drove Mentor crazy.

“You won’t find him.” Superhero said, huffing a breath out through their nose. Supervillain hummed. He stepped back and clicked his fingers. Superhero’s body moved at an impossible speed, back snapping against the bark of a tree and Superhero cried out.

Supervillain didn’t stop. He was dragged back along the dirt by his ankle, as if being pulled by an invisible lasso. He blacked out from the blow, but his brain shot him back into consciousness as his back was dragged harshly over the terrain. Supervillain came into view again. Superhero’s body was forced up as if suspended from the air, hanging like a limp puppet.

“Malyn, Superhero. I don’t have the patience for this game of cat and mouse.”

“Why… why are you—” Superhero’s breath hitched as his body contorted against his will. “D-doing this?”

“I want the boy. If you don’t bring him to me in three days, I will destroy the rest of the city, and all of your pathetic heroes.”

Supervillain closed their hand into a fist and Superhero screamed. “Have him meet me at the Hero Academy, 10pm. Alone. Any funny business and I’ll make sure that Tides dies, do you understand?”

“T— Leave Tides alone! Take- take me!”

“Oh, I would,” Supervillain said, opening his fist again. Superhero fell to the ground, his head slapping off the dirt. Supervillain crouched down in front of him and with a gloved hand tilted Superhero’s chin up. “But you have the best chance of getting me what I want. The boy for Tides. Hero Academy. Three days. 10 O’clock, got it?”

Superhero let out a broken breath of air which Supervillain took to mean yes. Villain slapped Superhero’s cheek. “Good boy. At least you still know how to take orders.”

Villain disappeared after that, leaving Superhero shaking in the dirt.

~*~*~*~

Ambrose didn’t even bother to make Kit forget the way to his house. If he was honest, he was exhausted. This was not how tonight was supposed to go. They pulled up to Ambrose’s house, stopping in front of two giant gates. Ambrose pressed a button and the gates opened.

“What are you, Batman?” Kit asked as he took in the mansion they were driving into. Ambrose chuckled at the comment but didn’t reply. The gates closed behind them as they drove in. The driveway was long, like something out of a movie and had a fucking roundabout at the entrance to the house.

Ambrose opened the door and stepped out. He walked around to the passenger side and opened Kit’s door, pulling the seat forward. “You can get out now, child.”

“I’m not a child,” Kit grumbled, obeying the order.

“Yes, you are,” said Ambrose with a sigh. He slammed the door after Kit got out, locking the doors over his shoulder with a click of his keys and a flash of lights. “You don’t do anything without being told, and you push boundaries like a fucking toddler.”

“Yeah, your stupid enforced boundaries because you’re a fucking control freak, and everything has to go Ambrose’s way! Right?!”

Ambrose ignored him, unlocking the door to his house and holding it open from Kit to follow. Kit scoffed and walked inside.

“You know this whole silent brooding thing is really starting to piss me off!” Kit told him.

Ambrose shut the door and locked it. “Your irritation is duly noted. I’ll file it under I don’t give a fuck.”

Kit whirled on Ambrose again, about to tear him a new one but paused. Ambrose stood pinching the bridge of his nose, letting out a long, laboured sigh. Kit bit back his gripes.

“Tell you what,” Ambrose said eventually. His voice soft and so un-Ambrose like. Tired, Kit realised. It was as if all energy had been zapped from him after the drive, and maybe it was. Adrenaline had a habit of doing that to you. Ambrose took the key for the cuffs out of his pocket and tossed it. “You can sleep on all of the names you want to call me, and tell me over breakfast tomorrow.”

Kit caught the key, eyes wide with surprise as he unlocked the cuffs around his wrist. He glanced up at Ambrose, but Ambrose was already making for the stairs with tired movements. He lifted a hand without turning back to face Kit.

“Take whatever room you want. I honestly couldn’t care less.”

Kit stood shocked as he watched the villain ascend the staircase straight from the titanic to the second floor. Disbelief ebbed to his own wave of sleep that overtook him and he followed Ambrose up the stairs. He could think more tomorrow. Sleep would bring clarity. He could think logically in the morning.

Kit took the door closest to him and kicked off his shoes. He pulled his jacket off, unzipping his jeans, stepping out of them as he fell into— fuck this was probably the most comfortable bed he ever lay on.

That was his last thought before the blackness swallowed him, eyelids falling heavy over his eyes.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Orphanage roll-call (lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @beatenbruisedandbloody @404lunar1216 @whumpyworld @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @acer-gaysimpstuff @m3rakii @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom @blood-enthusiast @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @andtheysaidspeaknoww @dutifullykrispyland @mononeigbour @tippytappytyping @stefaniesblogs @shinokoro @bedtimescenarios @whatwhump

[nocturnalfei]

“𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓂𝓊𝓇𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓇, 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝓉𝑒𝒶𝓁 𝒾𝓈 𝒶 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽 𝐼 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊” ⋆˚. ݁˖

⏾ — 𝓓𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓔𝔂𝓮𝓼 . ݁˖

song: 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘦 - 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘧 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘶𝘯

assassin!lee minho x afab!reader // word count: 4.8k

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: dark content (do not read if uncomfortable), kidnapping, drugging, minor character death, mentions of blood

note from author: this is my first published work after a long hiatus, hope you like it <3

Minho has never been proud of what he is. It is just the cards that life dealt him, the product of his raising. It is what’s expected of him. He was proud, however, to be the best assassin in his family. He lived to see the glimmer of resentment in his father’s eyes whenever he got to the kill first. Minho was always smarter, always stealthier, always quicker, and always cleaner. His father began Minho’s training at the mere age of 4 and by the age of 7, Minho had successfully poisoned a rank 3 target. He always swore to surpass his father, for if he had to be what he was, he would always make sure his father regretted it.

Minho’s siblings were decent assassins, but only his eldest brother came close to his skill. As the youngest of four, Minho literally fought to survive his childhood. For as his father says, “if any of you are weak enough to get killed by one another, you’re too weak to be in this family.” Minho has never attempted on his siblings, another trait that he is proud to provoke his father with. Minho didn’t need to prove that he was the best.

It was currently 8:21 pm. Minho was perched on the rooftop of an apartment, overlooking the city. He enjoyed the view. The dark sky contrasted with the lights of the city, as if the stars had all descended to the streets, leaving the sky to remain as an endless void. After a deep inhale, he glanced at his watch again. 8:23. In seven minutes, an heiress to some royal family (Minho never cared for these details of the jobs) would arrive home for the night. And that was when Minho would make his move.

A chill swept through the air, carrying the scent of the freshly baked croissants at the next door bakery. Minho’s beanie and jacket kept him warm, along with his gloves and face mask. But, as he shifted slightly, the icy blade pressed into his skin at his waistline sent a different chill through his body. Maybe he wasn’t proud of his career, but he couldn’t deny there was a rush of excitement with every job he accepted. It was in his blood. He was born to be a monster.

8:28. He heard the growling engine growing louder, shifting himself flat against the roof to avoid detection as the car pulled up. Even being 3 stories up, Minho’s observant eyes peered over the tiles to inspect the scene below. The driver got out of the car, heading to the rear passenger door and opening it. And out stepped you.

Minho never showed emotion. His ruthless family would use it against him, so he learned to keep his expression neutral and his body language in check. But when he saw you, his eyebrows betrayed him with the slightest twitch. You were adorned in a luxurious black gown, the chiffon skirt cascading around your legs, the sleeveless bodice framing your figure. Minho blinked to clear his thoughts, watching as you entered the apartment, another man getting out of the car and tailing you. An employee of your father’s, most likely.

Minho remembers the job description: “mafia family heir, to be captured for ransom, then killed. Rank 1.” The ranks justified the difficulty of a job. But rank 1s were saved for kings and queens themselves or other jobs of that severity. Family members and heirs were usually ranked 2 or 3, depending on the security and relations. So what made you special? His curiosity urged him to get closer to you and, convincing himself that it was simply the next move for the job, his body complied.

Minho slid down the roof slanting onto the upper balcony, swiftly tucking into the shadows again. Like the professional he was, Minho had already surveyed the apartment and knew the layout. A 3-story apartment in a small community, tucked away between other similar apartments and a bakery. Expensive, but relatively hidden, blending in with the other buildings along the street. He quickly picked the lock, taking advantage of the precious minutes between your employee disabling the alarm and resetting it as he slipped inside.

He had expected a bedroom as luxurious as the dress you wore, but was surprised to find the place rather simply designed and decorated. You had books and clothes scattered about, an easel in the corner, a stuffed rabbit on your bed. It looked…normal. Not like the bedroom of a mafia heir. And he’s seen a couple of those in his life.

Footsteps ascending the stairs broke him from his thoughts. He carefully crouched behind the easel. Even if you had turned the lights on, the shadow from the bookcase next to him was perfect cover. He had planned every move accordingly. And now, he waited.

Minho listened carefully to the noises outside the door, pleased to find the walls weren’t thin. He strained his ears to pick up on your words. You sounded upset, but he couldn’t make out why. Minho didn’t flinch as you flung the door open, nor when you slammed it shut and turned on the light. He sat perfectly still, eyes just being able to see your figure between the easel and the corner of the bookcase.

You threw yourself onto the bed, hands working to rid yourself of your jewelry. Minho could easily swipe your earrings after his job was done - they were obviously worth a hefty penny. But Minho never cared for money. His grandfather started this family business for money, then fame once his children showed aptitude to follow his footsteps. His father continued the legacy for the same reasons. His siblings would’ve swiped your earrings, your necklace, your rings, and hell maybe even the gown after they were done with you. But not Minho. He only cared about getting the job done.

You stood, catching his full attention again. His eyes followed your every move as you made your way to your closet. You slipped your heels off, throwing them into the corner before grabbing a tee shirt. Your delicate hands reached for the zipper at the back of your dress. Minho politely shifted his gaze, keeping his pupils glued on your calves as the dress plummeted to the floor. He watched you throw the oversized shirt on in his peripherals, the hem reaching the tops of your thighs, not leaving much to the imagination. He tried to avoid seeing your underwear, not understanding why he was feeling some sense of nerves.

Minho has been a professional assassin for over a decade. He had forgotten what nerves were. But as you turned slightly, his eyes took in your face up close, and his heart skipped a beat. You were beautiful. As you grew closer, Minho’s muscles tensed. His fingers naturally found the hilt of his knife. He was a professional, he wouldn’t let you distract him from his job, no matter how much your eyes made his pulse quicken.

Suddenly, your door swung open, stopping you in your tracks. “Y/n, your father is on the pho-“

“I don’t want to talk to him.” You hissed, returning to plop on your bed.

The man from the car took a tentative step into the room. “Will you please not be difficult, Y/n. You knew this day would come.”

You shoved your face into the pillows with a groan. If Minho wasn’t perfectly controlled, he would’ve let a chuckle slip out. Minho had only ever met two types of heirs: stuck up and spoiled or meek and polite. Your childishness was interesting. The man tried to sneak closer to you with the phone, but you jumped up and shoved him out the door. “Leave me alone!” The door slammed shut. Minho watched you return to the bed, grabbing your rabbit and sighing deeply.

Hundreds of jobs over the years. Hundreds of faces that Minho has seen, lives he’s heard, and not one sprouted an ounce of interest in him. So, why you? Why was he curious about what was troubling you? Why were you a rank 1? What was going on here?

Minho sat, still as a rock and in total silence, as the night went on. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep, rabbit tucked in your arms. The noises of the house quieted as well and finally he slid out of his hiding spot. He stalked over to your bed, trying to deny himself admiring your features. Your hair fanned out on the pillow like a halo.

Minho grabbed the small bag of powder from his pocket, spreading the substance over his palm. “I’m sorry.” He breathed, holding his palm to your mouth and nose while his other hand quickly grabbed your wrists. You woke up with a start, immediately fighting, but to no avail. Minho’s was much stronger than he looked. After a few moments, the drug kicked in a you lay limp in his grasp. Minho took a damp towelette to his glove, pocketing it, then gathered you in his arms.

You woke up in a daze. The room was blurry and your head pounded. You tried to turn, realizing you couldn’t move. Before you could attempt to speak, a voice made you jump. “Finally awake?” You blinked until the blurriness faded, leaving you in a small and dark room with a strange man staring back at you. “How do you feel?”

Still confused, you shook your head, only to wince when it pounded. “Uh,” your own voice startled you. It was hoarse.

The man stepped closer. “I thought so. The drug is relatively harmless, but can cause dehydration.” He is gloved hand reached out a glass of water towards you. “Here.”

You stubbornly turned your head, awareness setting in as you felt the ropes binding your wrists behind you. You fought the panic rising in your chest. You needed to be brave. “Who are you?” You asked, craning your neck to look around, seeing you were lying on a bed. “And where am I?”

To your surprise, the man chuckled. You tried to ignore how charming his voice was. “Drink some water and I’ll tell you.” His tone was casual, as if kidnapping you was just another Tuesday for him. It irritated you.

“No.” You spat. “You probably poisoned it.”

Again, the man laughed. “I’ve had several hours to kill you, my dear.” He shifted you into a seated position before guiding the water to your lips. “If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t have woken up just now.” You pouted at his words. He was right. Reluctantly, you put your lips to the rim of the glass, allowing him to pour the water onto your tongue. You immediately felt better as the pounding left your head. “There you go,” he praised.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the warmth that spread inside you. You couldn’t even tell what he looked like, beanie and mask only leaving his eyes on display, but they were enthralling. Those dark eyes watched you intently, reading you with curiosity and amusement. You looked around the room, breaking the eye contact before you could be pulled into their depths. “Where am I?”

He set the glass down on the bedside table. “My room.”

“Your room?” You asked, unable to hide your surprise. “And who might you be?”

“That’s a secret.” He smirked, enjoying the annoyance in your features.

You bit your tongue. He seemed calm and friendly, and yet, there was an aura of danger surrounding him. You needed to be careful. “So,” you drawled, checking out the rest of the room, more so to avoid his eyes. There wasn’t much to it apart from a large bookcase next to a desk and the bed you currently resided on. You did notice a closet in the corner. But, no windows. Where were you? “Why have you kidnapped me, then?”

He sighed, catching you off guard. Coming from a mafia family, you had always been warned of people coming after you for various reasons. Money, revenge against your father, etc. You knew of people attempting to hurt you before, but their attempts were always disrupted by your guards. Your father had never left you alone for fear of this day, always guards around and within your apartment, his most trusted friend to always monitor your whereabouts. You were actually rather impressed that the man in front of you now had managed to pull off this stunt, the first to ever succeed.

Still, you’d always pictured the faces of the attempted kidnappers and assassins over the years. All you could imagine was different forms of evil. Angry, disgusting, maniacal, faces without remorse for what they were doing. But when you gazed upon the eyes of the man in front of you, you saw none of those things. What you saw was a bored and uninterested face, but if you allowed your eyes to linger on his for just a moment too long, you saw what was almost…sadness.

Finally, the man spoke, breaking you from your trance. “There’s a ransom for your return.” He was careful in his words, not to give away too many details about the job or his employer. Again, a professional. “I will keep you here until that ransom is delivered and then return you home safely.” He didn’t like lying to you, but he wasn't going to tell you this ended in your death. ‘to be captured for ransom, then killed…’ A bitter taste sat on Minho’s tongue. To request your murder even after receiving the ransom money, that was a clear giveaway of a personal grudge. His father had given him this job, but who was the employer?

Minho was a professional, always seeing the job to the end. But goddamn him if he couldn’t shake this feeling that something wasn’t right. He watched you intently, finally letting himself admire you. A professional he was, but evil he wasn’t. You were beautiful, innocent. Minho knew evil and you were not that. You didn’t deserve this fate. He had to think of a plan.

“So, this is for money.” you groaned, looking up at the ceiling. “Of course. Very cliche of you, I was actually hoping for better.”

That comment caught Minho off-guard and he snickered. You were different, indeed. “It wasn’t my plan, dear.” He fought the urge to move the stray hair from your face. “Just the job I took.”

You shouldn’t be talking to this man, your kidnapper, so casually. You should be stoic, or fighting, or scared, or something of a normal reaction to being kidnapped. But even with his dark presence, there was an air of ease with him. “You do this for a living then? Kidnapping?”

Minho hummed. “It is part of my skill set, I suppose.” His eyes never left you. It should be unsettling, you shouldn’t be enjoying his attention.

The room was quiet as you pondered which question to ask next. As you watched his eyes, you noticed the aging in them, as if he has seen many things, lived many lifetimes. But the surrounding skin pointed to a man rather young. Your curiosity got the better of you. “How old are you?”

Minho hesitated. He didn’t have friends. He didn’t really talk to anyone, actually. He kept to himself and his books. The conversation taking a personal turn made him uncomfortable, but he was tempted to share himself with you. Still, he had to protect his identity. “20.”

Your eyes widened. “Youre only a year older than me?”

Before the conversation could continue, Minho’s phone buzzed. He fished it out of his pocket, walking away from you to answer the call. “She’s awake.” Minho spoke first.

“The ransom has been posted. Await my signal for the return.” His dad was always straight to the point.

“Understood.” Minho hung up the phone, returning to your side, only to stop in his tracks. The way you looked up at him, eyes wide and questioning, caused a pang in his heart. You were causing him to feel so many things in such a short amount of time. You were dangerous, you would break the facade Minho has spent over a decade perfecting. He couldn’t have that. “Your ransom has been posted. I’ll return you home once it’s paid.”

You should be happy to hear the news, but you weren’t. You didn’t want to go home, where every move was monitored, every decision made for you. Besides, you wanted to know more about this mysterious man with his captivating eyes.

At that moment, your stomach let out an embarrassing growl. Heat rose to your cheeks as you quickly looked away from his amused gaze. “Are you hungry?” You wanted to hide, deny it, but your stomach gave you away again. With a chuckle, Minho turned towards the door. “I’ll be right back.”

A good few moments passed (you had no idea how much time in actuality since there was no clock or windows) before Minho returned to the room, a steaming bowl in his hands. He sat next to you on the bed. You peered into the bowl and inhaled. Wow, the soup smelled and looked amazing. Minho gathered some of the soup in a spoon before bringing it to your lips. The act was too intimate, too kind for the situation you were in, but it surprisingly felt natural. Minho fed you until the bowl was empty, then gave you more water. The comfortable silence that fell upon you two was finally broken by your voice. “So, you cook took?”

Minho gave a small chuckle. “My family doesn’t exactly cook, so I learned some basic recipes.” You waited for him to continue speaking, but he seemed to end it there. You wanted to know more. What was his family like? What kind of childhood would one have to go through to choose this kind of lifestyle? You decided against asking more. The man before you was shrouded in mystery and you had a desire to discover every detail about him.

Minho’s eyes met yours, catching you blatantly watching him. But this time, you didn’t turn away. You let yourself be pulled into those depths. You didn’t even know this man’s name, and he had kidnapped you for the matter, but you felt an irresistible pull towards him. He must have felt the same, taking a deep sigh before his gloved hand reached out to your face. You froze as his fingers grazed your cheekbone, guiding a stray hair behind your ear.

Your eyes were locked with his, breathing stalled as you waited for his next move. Instead, you jumped at the buzz of Minho’s cellphone. He was quick to answer it, leaving you stranded on the bed and walking to the corner of the room. “It’s done.” His father’s voice traveled through the phone. “Finish the job.”

Minho’s jaw tightened, but his tone remained neutral. “Understood.” He hung up the phone, returning it to his pocket. He was just ordered to kill you. He had always finished his jobs, quickly, perfectly, and without hesitation. But as he glanced back to your form on his bed, he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in his chest. You looked up at him, eyes round and hopeful. Minho has never regretted what he was, until now.

“Your ransom’s been paid.” Minho stated. You quickly noticed his change in demeanor, as subtle as it was. Something was off. You patiently waited for him to continue. Finally, Minho spoke again. “I’ve been ordered to kill you.”

You feel panic rise in your chest. Suddenly you remember the reality of your situation: kidnapped, bound, at the mercy of a dangerous stranger. Minho hated the way quickly your gaze had changed, the admiration and curiosity being replaced by pure fear. “But, you said I would be returned home after the payment.” You pleaded.

Minho sighed heavily again. “The job was to kidnap you until the ransom had been paid and then kill you.” His eyes stayed glued to the floor, the unfamiliar feeling of shame overwhelming him.

“You lied to me!” Your outburst forced his gaze back to you, the image before him shattering the heart he always questioned having. Tears cascaded down your cheeks. Because of him. It felt so wrong. “I actually trusted you, but this whole time has been a lie!” Your sobs rang through the room. Minho’s chest ached for you. This was wrong.

Minho reached your side in a heartbeat. You jumped at his speed, trying to move away from him, but his hands grasped your shoulders to keep you in place. You refused to look at him, disgusted with yourself for being so foolish. “Y/n,” Minho started. You shook your head. You wanted nothing more to do with the monster in front of you. His hand gripped your jaw, gently forcing you to face him. “Y/n. Look at me.” Your eyes finally met his. Those inviting depths. You wanted to believe they could pull you in, keep you safe. Minho’s thumb wiped a tear off your cheek. “I am NOT going to hurt you.”

He pulled you into a hug, surprising you. His strong arms held you firm until the shaking in your shoulders calmed down. You felt his warm, calloused hands slide down your arms to your bound wrists. When did he remove his gloves? A frigid object sent another wave of panic through you before you realized he had only cut the rope from your wrists. He holds you for another moment before pulling away, hands remaining on your arms, his full attention on your face. “I did not lie to you. I will return you to your family.”

You should be relieved, but you only had more racing thoughts. This was his job. “So, you’re an assassin?”

The question pulled the corners of Minho’s lips up. “I am.” He shouldn’t continue, but he needed to regain your trust. “I come from a family of assassins.”

You let that sink in for a moment. “So, if you return me, you would have failed your job?” Minho gave a curt nod. “What will that mean for you?”

Minho paused, debating how to answer your question. “I have never failed a job before.” He stated matter of factly. “My family will never let me live it down, my reputation will take a huge hit.” He saw the emotion begin to rise in your eyes again. “But that doesn’t matter. I will return you home safely. I promise, Y/n.”

You nodded, believing his words. Your arms wrapped around him and you properly hugged. He held you firm, protectively. He smelled like cedar and you melted into his hold. “May I know your name?” You whispered into the soft skin at his neck.

His breath tickled your cheek and you felt him smile through his mask. He leaned back just slightly, just enough so that when he removed his mask you could get a good look at him. Wow. He was nothing like you had pictured assassins to look. Dark, cat-like eyes and defined cheek bones, soft petals for lips. He was beautiful.

You had a strong urge to cup his face, but resisted as you mentally kicked yourself for having such a thought. Instead, the man leaned in even closer, lips reaching yours in the faintest of kisses, just shy of actually being counted as one but exciting your body just the same. “Minho,” he whispered. “My name is Minho.”

“Minho.” You repeated before his lips finally met yours in a proper kiss. As he distracted you, you couldn’t stop your hand from finding his cheek, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. This seemed to please him, his own hands snaking around your waist and shoulders, holding you close.

The streets are quiet as the night blanketed the town. You could see your apartment around the corner, guards stationed at the door. You walked along the cobblestone street towards your home. Minho kept to the shadows, but you felt him watching you, making you feel safe.

When you came closer to the lamp in front of your apartment, you saw your father’s consigliere open the door as if he was leaving. “Y/n?“ He stopped in his tracks, shocked. You entered the light of the street lamp, greeting your father’s consigliere.

Minho watched you from the shadows. He didn’t plan to return home right away. He couldn’t shake the feeling of something still being off, and throughout the years, his instincts have always held true and kept him safe. So, he listened to them. He was perched on your rooftop, just like the night he took you when your scream reached his ears. His body reacting before his mind’s command as he swooped into your bedroom. There you were facing your father’s consigliere, a knife in the man’s hand pointed right at you. Minho lunged, gripping his own knife, the blade glistening in the moonlight, hungry for blood.

In a blink, the consigliere was on the ground, knife thrown across the room and Minho’s knife at his throat. “It was you.” Minho growled, everything clicking in his mind. “You posted the job on Y/n. You wanted her killed.” Minho pressed the knife into the man’s skin. A droplet of crimson formed, igniting the predator inside Minho. It took every ounce of his strength to not push further and finish the job, reminding himself that you were watching.

“This good-for-nothing brat doesn’t deserve her father’s riches.” The man spat, wincing as the knife cut even more. “Yes, I listed her as a rank 1 and was told the best assassin was assigned to the job.” Minho saw red. His muscles shake as he used every ounce of strength to hold himself back, but every word from the man made it more difficult a task. “Her death was ensured and guaranteed to not be traced back to me. And I’m guessing you’re the said assassin? Pathetic.”

Minho withdrew his knife long enough to punch the man in the jaw. “In the mafia world, you are closest to her father. You are practically family to her. She trusted you!” Another punch. You watched as Minho’s knuckles broke the man’s nose, blood cascading down his face. “Why list her death on the market?”

“Because,” the man choked, spitting blood. “With her out of the picture, her father may actually be able to focus on his work! He has a significant business to run.” He coughed, blood spattering on Minho’s mask. “Her mother was just as much as a distraction, so I had gotten rid of her as well.” At your gasp, Minho’s heart sank. “At least that assassin could finish the job!”

Minho leaned closer to the man’s face. From where you stood, you could no longer see either of their faces, but Minho’s aura was seething with rage. “What a worthless excuse for a human.” Minho hissed. “I will spend the rest of my life waiting to see you in hell.” And with that, Minho slit the man’s throat. He had purposely positioned his body so you couldn’t see the act.

Minho stood and you ran over to him. He held you tight, wanting to protect you from everything in this world, everything he was. “I need to leave.” He whispered into your hair. “The police will be here soon.”

“No,” you begged, unable to let him go. “Stay. Please.”

Minho tsked, pulling you away but keeping his hands on your shoulders. “Your family wouldn’t exactly approve of an assassin living amongst them.” Minho half-joked.

”Then take me with you.” You pleaded. You heard the faint sirens outside, you still had a moment before the police arrived. “I don’t want to stay here.”

“No.” Minho said, voice stern. “You have a life here. I can’t take you away from that.”

“Minho!” His eyes softened, searching yours as he waited for your next words. “My father arranged to have me married off.” Minho’s eyes widened and you noticed that rage swirling in their depths. “The dude is awful and my father doesn’t care that I’m unhappy. I have no life here. Please.”

The sirens grew closer, but you leaned forward, lips meeting his own as you desperately tried to share your unspoken words through the kids. You didn’t love the man you were to be married to. But you loved the man in front of you now. The one that took you away and kept you say. The one you trusted to do it all over again.

The deafening sirens were on your street. Minho reluctantly broke the kiss, lifting you into his arms and carrying you onto the balcony. He would do as you ask and take you far away. He knew both of your families would come looking for you two, but he wasn’t worried. For once, he was proud of what he was. Because what he was, the horrible skills that he has spent his entire life developing, he would now use to keep you safe. He was born this way so that you may be his, forever.

©𝗻𝗼𝗰𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗳𝗲𝗶 <𝟯 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱. 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆 𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀 𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺. 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗹𝗮𝗶𝗺 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀 𝗮𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗼𝘄𝗻.

[billybob598]

Scary Crashes (Katie McCabe x Reader)

2 fics in 1 day I'm literally so awesome. Also, sorry for the shit title I couldn't think of anything else sooo, just ignore that bit. Remember, any feedback good or bad is welcomed! As always, have fun reading!

Word Count: 1K (Kinda short but who cares)

“This is gonna be so much fun!” Katie exclaims as she walks alongside you in the paddock. You chuckle at her excitement.

“Yeah, it’s going to be great babe,” you say before stopping to take some photos with fans. You were a driver with Ferrari and while it had been a tough season, you were confident heading into Silverstone this weekend. What made it even better is that Katie, your girlfriend, was attending. She had come to a couple of races, but it always made you feel better to have her there.

The weekend had been tough, free practice had been okay and you were out-qualified by your teammate, Charles. Katie watched excitedly from the garage as the race got underway. The race had been terrible, Ferrari in complete Ferrari style had fucked up your strategy,

“No! Guys, we can’t keep doing this. Fuck! Mate, this has gone from bad to an absolute shithole of a race,” you say over the radio.

As it gets closer and closer to the chequered flag, you try your very best to make some places back up. After your pit stop you came out P13, but you were able to crawl back up to P8. You tried multiple times to get past Pierre Gasly’s Alpine in P7 but to no avail. You were starting to get frustrated,

“He’s driving a bit dangerously, no? Did you see him do the double move on the straight?”

“Yep, we saw it. Just keep focused Y/N, you’ll get him,” your engineer says back to you.

On the next lap, you get a good exit out of Woodcote and use the slipstream to your advantage as you guys head into Copse. Gasly defends the inside so, you decide to try around the outside. Katie holds her breath as she watches on the TV. One second you’re thinking you’ve got him on the outside, the next you’re spinning around as gravel spills into the cockpit. At first, you think you’ve just span out and that you’re probably beached in the gravel trap. That is until you smash into the tyre barrier at over 200km/h. All the air gets pressed out of your lungs when you hit the wall with over 50G’s. Immediately after you hit, you black out.

Everyone inside the Ferrari garage is scrambling, trying to see if you’re okay or not. Your engineer is getting no response over the radio. All the cameras on the car had been broken. Katie was full-on panicking. As the team tried to see if you were okay, Katie couldn’t help but fear for the worst, especially when the ambulance had to come. 

You wake up when someone starts to shake your shoulders. Your eyes adjust to the light and when you look up you see a marshal standing over you asking if you’re okay. You give him a nod and thumbs up, before switching on the radio,

“You okay? Y/N, are you okay?” The engineer keeps repeating.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Ahhhhh fuck, everything kinda hurts though,” you answer.

“Yeah, just stay where you are, marshals are coming and so are some paramedics,”

“Okay, copy,”

It takes a couple of minutes for the marshals to get you out, but when they do you are met with thunderous applause from the crowds. Waving a hand to let them know you’re okay, Katie breathes a sigh of relief. She gets informed by your assistant that you are heading to the hospital for a check-up because it was quite the impact. Katie drives to the hospital as quickly as possible. She knows you’re more or less okay considering you were able to walk out of the car, but she needed to see you with her own eyes. The Irish woman asks the receptionist where you are quite urgently, maybe a little rudely, but she’s Katie McCabe what do you expect from her? When she’s shown to your room she’s informed that you are sleeping. So, she quietly tip-toes into the room and sees you laying there with a couple of machines hooked up to you. Deciding you should keep sleeping, she goes and asks the doctor about how you are. The doctor says that for the most part, you’re okay, your only injury being bruised ribs. He tells her that you're only going to be hooked up to the oxygen machine for a little bit, they just didn’t want to take any chances.

It’s a couple hours before you wake up and when you do you’re met with your girlfriend looking anxious. She has no idea you’re awake yet, so you slowly reach out for her hand and slip her fingers in between yours. Her head jerks up.

“Oh my God, Y/N. Jesus Christ you had me so scared there,” she says quickly. You point in the direction of the door, silently asking for her to go get the doctor so he could take the oxygen mask off. “Oh yeah, right of course. I’ll go get him.”

The doctor does a quick check-up on you before ultimately deciding that you were good to go. He releases you from the hospital, much to your happiness and Katie’s worry. When you guys get back to the hotel, Katie carries all your bags inside, even though you did offer multiple times. All night, Katie won’t let you do anything. Water? Brings multiple glasses of it. Hungry? Don’t worry, she’s got a plate stacked sky-high with food. In pain? She’ll force multiple painkillers down your throat. Some might find it overbearing, but you on the other hand found it endearing. Katie usually acted tough, but it was in moments like these that she shows just how caring and thoughtful she can be. 

“Are you good? Do you need anything else?” Katie asks.

“Nah, babe. I think I’m all good. Thank you for everything today,” you say gratefully.

“Of course, you scared me there Y/N,” she says the last part quietly. You drag her beside you on the bed.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” you say scratching the back of your neck.

“Never again Y/N, never again,” she says sternly. She grins at you before kissing you. 

As you fall asleep you can’t believe how lucky you are to have a girlfriend as awesome as yours.

[yandere-paramour]

Ooh can you do a scenario where Vivien learns that his darling is sick before he has revealed himself to them? Does he have enough willpower to keep his distance or will he be forced to step out of the shadows?

As soon as Vivien closes up the flower shop, he drives over to your house with a smile. Even though he's been watching you for a few months, and you've had a few friendly conversations when you come by his shop, he's not quite ready to reveal himself and his feelings yet. Something in his heart tells him this is not the right time; he needs to prepare everything first. He needs to be sure you won't reject him. Unfortunately, he does have to be at work earlier than you so he cannot see you in the mornings, but you always come out of work later than him, giving him the opportunity to watch you come home every day. He's like a guardian angel, making sure you get inside safe and sound.

He pulls up and parks a few houses down, partially hidden by a tree. He checks his watch; if you have not deviated any from your normal Thursday routine, you should be home within the next 10 minutes. He rolls the windows down, grabs a granola bar, and sits back to wait.

It only takes six minutes and 43 seconds for you to come. As you turn off the engine and get out of the car, his face lights up in a quick smile before it is wiped off. Even from his distance away, he can see the weary look you have on your face. Crunchy coughs wrack your frame, and you sniffle pitifully as you slowly trudge your way into the house.

Vivien is alarmed. You're sick. His Darling, the love of his life, the future mother of his children, is sick. He didn't know how sick. What if you were dying? He wasn't close enough to tell, and there was no way he could examine you himself. You lived alone, who was going to take care of you? His hand is on the door handle, legs ready to run to you before he can stop himself. He jumps out of the car and freezes, remembering himself.

He cannot go to you. You barely even know him. All you know is his name and that he works at the flower shop. He is not your boyfriend and there is no way you will be receptive to letting him inside to care for you.

Tears come to his eyes. There simply has to be something he can do; he'd never be able to forgive himself if you suffered while he watched anime and stuffed his face with spicy noodles, apathetic to your plight. He had to do something, but what was he supposed to do if he couldn't be with you?

Well... he wasn't totally useless. He could do something, he just had to get creative. An idea started to form in his brain.

He needed to go to the grocery store.

▲△▲△▲△▲△▲△▲△▲△▲△

You felt like ass. You really didn't know what happened. One minute you were filling out some paperwork in your office at work, and the next you were on the ground in a dizzy spell. It came on like a sudden storm, throwing you into such a miserable and weak state that people winced at the sight of you. It was pure luck that you managed to make it to the end of the workday.

You figured it was simply a bad cold or maybe one of those 24-hour viruses. Either way, you were calling in sick tomorrow. Good thing tomorrow was Friday, or you might've had to miss more than one day. The drive home was quick, and you peeled off your clothes and fell into bed, not bothering to do anything but grab a roll of toilet paper for your snotty nose.

Your nap was fitful, and you couldn't quite remember what woke you up. Your brain felt cloudy and slow, like all your thoughts were 0.5x speed. All your senses were dull, and for a second, you couldn't remember where you were or what happened. Did you even lock the door?

The door! That's what woke you up! The doorbell was ringing. You flopped out of bed, pulling yourself to your feet as you slog through the house to the front door. This better be important. Ready to be angry, you tore open the front door and found... no one?

Baffled, you look up and down the street for a person but see nothing. What, was this a ding-dong-ditch? You hadn't done one of those since first grade. Rolling your eyes, you go to close the door then you see a plastic bin on your doorstep.

Confused, you look up. Was this a gift from God? Did you win a lottery somehow? Did you sign up for some silent auction? Was this thing just delivered to the wrong house? Finding something tied with a red ribbon on the side, a card reads "Get well soon, Y/N. I hope you're okay". The handwriting is messy and there is a little heart drawn on the bottom corner. There is no signature or anything explaining who it might be from. Even though the situation is strange, you feel yourself softening towards the mystery basket-giver. Whoever they are, they obviously care for you and your health. And... they somehow knew your address?

One problem at a time.

The bin is very heavy, too heavy for you to lift unassisted, so you take everything out one by one to put it in your house. There is a soft blanket, new from the looks of the tag on its corner. One loaf labeled "Salted Rosemary Bread" and a batch of at least 20 chocolate chip cookies. A gallon-sized mason jar holds a large amount of warm soup, complete with carrots, pasta noodles, and chunks of chicken breast. When you crack open the top, your mouth waters and you can't remember the last time you ate something.

There are plastic bags labeled relaxing bath soaks, eucalyptus mint, wild lavender and chamomile, rose and hibiscus, cedar and sage, and jasmine vanilla. The scent of all of them relaxes you, and you think of running a bath right now. Lastly, there is a glass bottle with a viscous, berry-colored liquid. The label reads "Homemade Elderberry Cough Syrup". When you turn the bottle over, the directions say to take one tablespoon as needed for coughing. The ingredients are handwritten and contain, predictably, elderberries, honey, and a long list of herbs and flowers. At the very bottom, a warning says that there is a slight sedative effect. By the way your throat and head feel, you would gladly take a little sleepiness in exchange for your throat not feeling like sandpaper.

You're making jokes, but you really do feel touched. This was so sweet. You have bath soaks, dinner, some medicine to take, and a comfy blanket to snuggle under. Someone, somewhere out there is taking care of you. You wish they would just show themselves so you could thank them properly.

You sigh. Perhaps they'll show themselves soon. For now, you just need to worry about heating up a bowl of soup without burning yourself and finding the right comfort movie to watch.

▲△▲△▲△▲△▲△▲△▲△▲△

Vivien's heart beats uncertainly as he watches you notice his gift, but he lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding when you accept it. He sees your lovely smile, and he gushes when you hold the soft blanket up to your cheek to nuzzle it. You're so cute when you're sick. He wishes he could come running at you, screaming that he left the gift and he wants to take care of you in person if you'll allow it. But it's late, and he doesn't want to scare you.

But it won't be long now. He's almost ready for you.

"Just wait a little longer, Darling," he whispers, "I'll be there soon."

(My Darling, I mean my artist is unfortunately sick, but do not worry. I am taking very, very good care of them, so please enjoy this drawing I made myself. I am so sorry.)

[roostersbby69]

0.2 | Brothers best friend

Summary: You finally make it to Bradley’s parents house until the furniture arrives.

Bradley cut the engine as he parked in his usual spot at his house. He had texted his parents to let him know the situation and knew they would be fine with them staying.

He watched as you slept peacefully, and he really didn’t want to wake you up. He got out of the car as Jake got out of his truck and walked towards bradley.

“Well just grab clothes and things we need and work on getting the rest out tomorrow.” Jake said, “It’s too late to do much work.”

Bradley agreed and checked his watch, 11:23pm. You were right, it was eleven at night when you made it here.

He walked around to your side and opened the door. He gently placed his hand on your shoulder and rubbed up and down your arm, “Hey, Y/n, we’re here we gotta get inside.” He whispered.

Your eyes fluttered open as you stretched, you whispered an ‘okay’ as he unbuckled you and waited for you to get out of the car and then shut the door.

You watched as Jake grabbed your bag and his and carried it towards the front door.

Bradley followed behind you and moved past you to go unlock the door. You didn’t miss how his hand brushed your ribcage as he moved. But you were too sleepy to think too hard into it.

Bradley guided you inside and turned on a lamp so Jake could set the bags down.

“Okay, Jake you can take my parents room, just don’t leave a mess. Y/n, you can take my room and I’ll take the couch.”Bradley said as Jake muttered a ‘fine by me’ and made his way back to the room.

“You don’t have to do that, I can sleep on the couch.” You waved him off as you made your way to the couch.

“No. You’re the guest, you can sleep in my bed.

“Bradley, really. It’s fine.”

“Y/n go to my bed.”

“Bradley.”

“Now, Y/n.”

You huffed and grabbed your bag, “You are so stubborn.”

He scoffed and smiled as you picked up your bag and looked back at him. “So, you going to lead me to my room?”

He nodded and grabbed your bag from your hands and got in front of you to lead you back to his room which was across from his parents.

He flicked on a lamp light and set the bag down on his desk which had all kinds of papers and books and pictures scattered across it.

“Nice room.” You complimented.

“Thank you.”

He threw an extra blanket on the bed and turned to you. “If you need anything, I’ll be on the couch.” He stuck up a thumbs up to you.

“Thank you.”

“No problem, good night.” He walked towards the door.

“Goodnight, Brad.”

_

In the morning you woke up and stretched under the covers. The blanket smelled like spice and cologne, something a little bit familiar, but you couldn’t quite tell.

You got up and pulled some pajama shorts on, you forgot to put them on last night you were so tired. So you just pulled your jeans shorts off before you slipped into his bed, he wouldn’t find out.

You made your way out of the room and saw Bradley wasn’t on the couch anymore. Curiously, you kept walking and smelt coffee. Walking into the kitchen you saw Bradley shirtless with plaid pants hanging low on his hips.

He turned towards you and smiled, “Morning.”

You smiled at his messy hair, “Morning.”

“Want some coffee?” He held a cup out to you.

“Please.” You took the warm mug and sipped it slowly.

“Be right back.” He said before he slipped out of the kitchen and down the hallway.

He walked into his room and went to grab his extra phone charger by his bed. He bent down and reached under the bedside table before gabbing the cord and tugging it out.

He got up and came face to face with a pink lacy bra. That definetly wasnt his. He remembered doing his parents laundry and that couldn’t have been his mom’s bra, it was too big. There’s only one person he could remember. You. He swallowed and couldn’t help but think about it on you, he immediately shook those thoughts away and headed back into the kitchen.

When he entered the kitchen again he found you looking at a picture on the wall. It was a picture of him, his dad, and mom at the beach. He was sitting on his moms shoulders and his mom was sitting on his dads shoulders.

He saw you smile as you held the warm cup of coffee and it made him smile too.

Jake walked in rubbing his face and yawning. “morning crew.” he greeted y’all and took the mug from your hand.

“Hey!” You watched as he took a long sip and nodded his head, “Yeah, that’s good.” He sighed. You rolled your eyes and made your way to the bar that was in the Bradshaws kitchen. You pulled the stool out and sat down with a sigh, Bradley set a mug of warm coffee down in front of you and placed a jar of sugar and a bottle of creamer down as well. You looked up at him with a small smile as he winked and walked back to the stove.

You took a spoon and stirred the creamer and sugar into the coffee, the smile was still on your face as you watched the coffee turn from black to light brown. Jake walked into the kitchen and took a piece of bacon off the plate that Bradley cooked and popped it into his mouth.

“You ready for college, Y/n?” He asked you. You shrugged, “I guess.” He furrowed his eyebrows at you at came and sat beside you at the bar. “Something bothering you? You’ve been quiet the past few days.” You shook your head, even though something was wrong, “No, I’m okay.”

He didn’t believe you, but he dropped it. He decided to tease Bradley instead. “Don’t burn that bacon, Bradley.”

Bradley turned and gave him an unamused look, “I’m pretty sure I’m a better cook than you.”

“Says who?”

“Y/n.” Bradley shrugged. Jake turned to you with a look of hurt written on his face, “You say I’m a bad cook?!”. You laughed, “You’re my brother, I can say whatever I want.” He shook his head with a small smile on his face.

-

Jake called the guy again and almost cussed him out trying to figure out why the furniture was coming in so late.

“I just don’t understand why the hell our furniture is three days late!?” Jake yelled into the phone as he paced around the room.

“Jake, you’re making me dizzy, sit down.” You mumbled as you and Bradley sat on the couch and watched him.

“It’s fine, we’ll just stay here until they can get it delivered, man. I told you last night.” Bradley said as he picked at his fingernails.

“When do your parents get back from their trip?” You asked and turned to look at him.

“Ummm, I think next Tuesday.” He said in thought, “They just left yesterday.”

“Good for them.” You nodded, “I’ve always wanted to go to the beach, someday I hope to buy a little house right on it.”

Bradley smiled and watched as you daydreamed about buying a house in the future.

Jake eventually hung up on the guy, clearly fed up with him, and turned to ya’ll, “This is a disaster.”

“Why don’t we go grab some dinner.” You suggested, twirling your hair in front of you.

“I can always eat.” Bradley said, he placed his hands behind his head as he laid further into the couch.

“I might go to Veronicas house, her parents aren’t home right now.” Jake said. Veronica was Jake’s hook up since eleventh grade. They weren’t anything official, just a fuck and leave type of thing.

You sighed and Bradley groaned at the same time which made you have to bite a smile back. “Veronica.” You muttered.

“Just date her at this point, dude.” Bradley shook his head, “Y’all have had sex what, twenty times now?”

“Gross.” You turned up your nose.

“My sex life is none of yours or Y/n’s business.” He pointed at the two of you.

“Good.” You nodded.

“I’m just saying.” Bradley shrugged.

“I’ll be back around twelve or one.”

“Dang, y’all are going at it for that long?” Bradley teased as Jake rolled his eyes and grabbed his keys.

“Ive got needs, Bradley. Unlike you.”

“Can we stop talking about sex?” You tried to remind them that you were still in the room.

“Yes. I’ll be back, call me if you need me, if I don’t answer the phone… well you know why.” Jake said as he walked out the door.

You groaned and sat back on the couch as Bradley laughed to himself.

-

You and Bradley had agreed to go pick up some take away food and bring it back to the house so you piled into his bronco and backed out of the driveway.

“So, had Jake spoke anything of him and Veronica?” You asked.

“Nah, he doesn’t talk much of her anymore. I think it’s just a hookup thing.” He shrugged and placed his arm on the back of your seat and backed out.

You watched his arm contract and swallowed hard.

He drove down the street into town and pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. You had ordered at the house and all you had to do was walk in and tell them your name.

“You going in?” He parked and turned to you.

You looked at him like he was crazy, “Hell no! I look terrible.” You gestured down to your outfit which was sweats and a sleep shirt.

“No you don’t.” He shook his head.

“I’m not going in.” You shook your head.

“Fine, I’ll go in.”

“Here’s my card.” You held it out to him.

“No, I’m paying.” He declined it.

“Bradley, it’s the least I can do since you’re providing us with a home until the furniture comes in.”

He still shook his head and got out of the car, “Make sure the doors are locked.”

You sighed and shook your head as you stuffed your card back in your wallet. You felt your phone vibrate and grabbed it from your pocket, you expected a text from Jake but it was Jackson.

Unknown caller: Hey babe I miss u. Plz come over i need u.

Gross.

Bradley got into the car with the food and set it in the backseat, he looked at you, “Is that Jake?”

“No, it’s Jackson.”

He looked at you with wide eyes, “What does he want?”

You put your phone away and looked out the window, “What every boy wants.”

“He’s a dick.” He muttered as he did the arm thing as he backed out again.

This time you stared for longer and didn’t care if he caught you.

“Something wrong?” He asked and continued to drive out of the parking lot.

You hummed, “No.”

-

You sat at the table and ate your food in silence, it wasn’t an awkward silence, just one where there wasn’t anything to be said at the moment. Bradley sat across from you and focused on his food, so you focused on yours.

“So, is this your last year of college?” You broke the silence.

“Yeah, I think so, If I pass.” He laughed to himself and shoveled another forkful of fried rice into his mouth.

You rolled your eyes, “You will, your mom would beat you if you didn’t.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” His mom always made sure he was doing what he was supposed to be doing, getting assignments done, handling his money well, making sure he had everything he needed. Which wasn’t a bad thing, it was a good thing. “How’s your mom?”

You looked up as he spoke, “She’s okay.” You honestly didn’t want to get onto the subject of your mother.

“She still working?” He asked with a mouthful of food.

“Yeah, she still works at the bank she used to.” You nodded and took your fork and scraped the food to one side then made a pile of it, playing with it.

“That’s good.” He nodded, “My mom said she misses her, she doesn’t really hear from her much anymore.”

Neither do you, “Yeah, everyone says that. I guess shes just in a lifelong mood or some shit.”

He nodded again, “So, what are you majoring in?”

“I decided I’m going to major in psychology as a backup and pursue my dream get my license to work on Jets.” You always loved airplanes and wanted a cool job so you could be the one to show up to your kids career day at school and tell their class all about what you do for work.

“That’s great. I think you’ll do good.”

“Thanks, Bradley.”

“No problem, Y/n,” he smiled at you, “so, about Jackson.”

You groaned and rolled your eyes, “I don’t even want to begin with that.”

“Is he going to the same college as you?” He asked, he sounded like a dad right now. Which you thought was funny, but Bradley had always been protective over you, even though Jake told him to be.

“Yeah, he’s majoring in business.”

“Prick, that’s some rich people shit.” Bradley laughed.

“Yeah, his father owns a real estate company, so I guess he’s going to take after him. He wanted me to be a housewife and said when we got married we’d have a bunch of kids and he’d make me a housewife.”

“That sounds like torture.” Bradley shivered, “I say you do whatever makes you happy, Y/n.”

“Yeah.” You muttered, “Thanks for listening. I know I talk too much.”

He shook his head and closed the styrofoam container, “I never get tired of hearing you talk.”

Your face reddened as you copied his actions by closing your food container as well. He stood up and walked over to you and grabbed your empty box and threw it away with his. You thanked him and he smiled at you as you stood up in front of him.

“Look, Bradley, I know we aren’t close but…” you paused, “I really do enjoy being around you, I always have.” You smiled softly which made him smile as well, “I enjoy being around you too, Y/n.”

Your cheeks heated up as he stepped closer to you and brought his hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You can take your bed tonight, I don’t mind sleeping on the couch.” You whispered since he was so close to you.

“Nah, ill take moms room and Jake can take the couch.” He winked and smirked once you smiled.

“Sounds evil.” You smiled.

“That’s his punishment for ditching to go hook up with a girl.”

You shrugged, “That sounds fair.”

“I can think of a better punishment though.”

You raised an eyebrow at this, “Oh yeah?”

He hummed and nodded slowly. “And what’s that?” You asked cautiously.

He licked his lips and looked down at you, he thought about it. But he didn’t do it. So instead he shrugged, “I’ve got nothing.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed softly as he smiled and stepped away from you to turn the lights off in the kitchen.

“If you want to shower my mom has some extra soap in her bathroom you can use. You’re welcome to use my shower, I’m cleaner than Jake is.” He offered.

“Thanks, you can take one before me.”

“Nope, ladies first.” He went and sat on the couch and turned the TV on. You sighed and walked down the hallway to grab the soap from Mrs. Carols bathroom. You grabbed it from under the sink and headed to Bradleys bathroom.

-

Bradley stared blankly at the television as a rerun of a baseball game played. He had already seen it, but it was either that or some kids channel.

He heard the shower on in the background for a few minutes and Bradley paid any attention to it as he continued to watch the game. For a couple more minutes he watched and didn’t even hear the shower cut off until you were yelling down the hallway.

“Bradley?” Your voice sounded uncertain.

He whipped his head back and got up from his spot on the couch and made his way down the hallway. Your head was poking out as the door covered your body and your hair was dripping onto the wood floor.

He cleared his throat, “Yeah?”

“There isn’t a towel in here,” your sighed, “can you please hand me one?”

He nodded as he watched the water drip from your face, down your neck, and down further but the door limited his visual on that.

“Yeah, let me go grab you one.” He turned and walked to the laundry room and grabbed a clean towel from the shelf. He grabbed two just in case and made his way back to you.

You had shut the door so he brought his knuckle up and knocked softly.

You peeked out and smiled, “Thank you.” Your wet, warm hand brushed his as he handed the towels to you.

“No problem.” He nodded and watched as you shut the door softly. He rubbed the palms of his hands on his jeans and walked slowly back towards the couch.

A couple minutes later you walked out in your pajamas with a towel wrapped on your head towards the living room.

“Sorry if I took long.” You apologized as you sat on the other side of the couch.

He looked at you with his chin resting on his fist, “You’re good, I don’t even have to take one tonight.” He shook his head.

“Oh, that must be nice.” You laughed and turned your attention towards the TV.

You remembered the way he looked down at you when you asked for a towel and the way his eyes looked further down rather than on your eyes. You probably just looked a mess, nothing more to it.

“Nothing good on?” You asked as you began to get bored of the game.

“Nope, unless you’re into Thomas the Train.” He laughed.

“I’ll pass.” You laughed along with him and watched the game with him.

-

You had eventually fallen asleep and Bradley had taken notice of this. He cut off the TV and places the remote on the coffee table, he walked to you and scooped you up, trying not to wake you up, he carried you back to his room.

He set you down on the bed gently and moved your hair from your face. He cut the light off and pulled the covers over your body and watched as you sunk deeper into his pillow. He smiled and walked out of the room, he closed the door gently and felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

Nicole: You busy? I miss you.

He sighed and opened his phone and clicked on her contact, Nicole and him dated his first year of college and broke up after a year. He walked down the hallway as he read the text over and over again.

No. He responded

Nicole: I’ll be over in 20

—————————————————————————————————

[uhdrienne]

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

07. producer park

🌼 warnings: alcohol, a secret chat group

🌼 word count: ~2.3k

"Ah, I don't like staying in hospitals," You mumble as you get out of the car that Seungkwan drove over in. You reach in again and pull out the overnight bag that Delia brought after she came back.

"Nicer to be home, huh," Delia smirks as she gets out after you, before skipping on ahead, where Seungkwan's already stopped the engine and is waiting with Wonwoo, who's been unusually quiet on the journey back.

She's far gone before you process that she said 'home'. She already regarded this village as home. Huh. Perhaps it was time you asked yourself the same question.

As you walk on, you see a large group of people huddled near a stall at the edge of the town market. They're unfamiliar, and some of them are carrying large black tripods and rectangular bags on them.

As the four of you walk closer, Seungkwan and Wonwoo's eyebrows slightly furrowing in confusion at the large crowd, a head of dark brown hair, and long, lanky limbs catch your attention. He's bent over a rack of traditional dried squid snacks, animatedly chattering and gesturing about it to the rest of the group surrounding him.

"Chanyeol?" You say out loud as you get within hearing range of the man. Wonwoo, Delia and Seungkwan's heads whip over to you.

Alerted at the call of his name, the man raises his head, and his eyes finally land on you after looking around. "Oh my god, Y/N?!"

"It really is you!"

He excuses himself from his group and hurries over to you. Delia mouths an incredulous "That Chanyeol?!" to you, but quickly plasters a smile onto her face as he comes over to greet you.

"Long time no see, Y/N!" he says, loud and boisterous as he always is, and you can't help but break out in a smile as you respond. "It's so crazy meeting you here. How've you been?"

"I'm doing good! And you?" Chanyeol grins, his handsome features lighting up.

"I'm great! Here on a filming session?" You smile.

"What do you mean great, you just got out of a car accident--" Wonwoo mutters under his breath and Seungkwan elbows him in the ribs. "Ow!" He protests.

Delia grabs Seungkwans's arm, Seungkwan grabs Wonwoo's, and the three of them hightail it out of the way, Wonwoo protesting slightly before you can say anything.

"Funny story how I got here, actually," Chanyeol enthuses, as he waves his film crew on to explore the market on their own. "I was supposed to go to the neighbouring town -- amazing farm plots, I heard! But I took a wrong turn, and--"

"Typical," You groan. "You never did go the right directions back in school."

He bursts out laughing, throwing his head back in his joy. "Gosh, you still remember that?"

Of course you do.

"But yeah, we ended up here! But it's a gorgeous town. Freshly-caught seafood, community spirit, the old traditions all present -- I was thinking this might be a blessing in disguise, it would be a great location for our next show. So we took the wrong turn as a chance for a site recce."

"Wow," You smile. "But this place really is pretty. You should check out the harbour, the lighthouse, and the dock--" You stop yourself.

What are you doing?

Chanyeol doesn't seem to notice your sudden halt, instead opting to smile big and assure you that he'll check the whole town out.

"Right," He suddenly says. "I'm actually glad that you'll be hanging around here, 'cause I'd really like to stick with someone more familiar."

You laugh. "I'm hardly the best person for a guide. I just came a few weeks ago. Not that long ago, to be honest."

He brushes aside your concern. "At least I have a friend here. By the way, do you happen to know a town chief, or a council? We were thinking of discussing with them about filming here. We can get the permits and stuff, but we do need his permission..."

You perk up slightly. "Yeah, I know him. His name is Chief Jeon Wonwoo. I can let him know that you want to see him?"

Chanyeol brightens. "Oh, the guy that was with you earlier? Great! I'll go find him myself, he's right over there." He points, and to your surprise and slight mortification, Wonwoo, Delia, and Seungkwan really are still in the market, far enough to not raise suspicion, but still near enough to see roughly what's going on. The three of them immediately avert eye contact once they spot you both looking in their direction.

You sigh in fond exasperation as Seungkwan starts blabbering excitedly about the dried goods you know for sure he's seen his whole life.

"Yep, that's him, the taller one," You say. "Come on, let's get you introduced."

They hit it off.

Chanyeol's infectious enthusiasm seems to rub off on Wonwoo, and he begins brainstorming with the producer on the materials they'd need for the show. Seungkwan, Delia and you hang behind, making conversation on your own.

"Who's he?" Seungkwan asks curiously, after Chanyeol peels away from the group to get back to his film crew, promising to discuss further with Wonwoo once he'd settled everyone into accommodations for the next few days, and it's just you four again.

"A friend from university," You begin, but Delia snorts with laughter. "You had the biggest crush on him."

You smack her on the arm. "I did not!"

Wonwoo looks down at you, smirking. "Really? Miss Doctor has a crush?"

You flush. "...Used to."

"Oh my god, it was a whole melodrama!" Delia squeals. "Can I tell them? Can I?"

You sigh dramatically at her excitement, but smile and wave at her to go on. "Go ahead. It's all water under the bridge."

And so Delia regales her tale (largely exaggerated, mind you) about your first-ever boyfriend in university, who had later revealed himself to be a Class-A jerk, busying himself with different girls at parties while you studied away for your degree.

Chanyeol, despite being in the same group of friends, had never attended the parties, instead opting to spend his time assisting on film sets and production companies for experience. When he found out about his friend's tendencies, and that you broke up with him, he took it upon himself to become your friend, to make you a little happier.

And soon, that companionship throughout university had developed into a teeny-tiny crush. A really small one. Delia made you sound like some lovesick teenager.

Life had other plans, moving you to Seoul to your very first clinic. You both rarely kept in touch, but you saw him on variety shows, on the credit rolls of reality programmes, and in online articles. He'd grown to become a charismatic and popular TV producer.

You roll your eyes when Delia does a highly inaccurate imitation of your expression while talking with the producer. ("I didn't look like that!" "Did too!")

Seungkwan and Wonwoo seem highly invested, which was fair, you supposed, given that they knew close to nothing about you. Seungkwan gasped like he was watching the climax of a drama.

"And your unrequited love is back in town," He teases, and you barely launch a poorly aimed punch at his arm before he's ducking away, screeching with laughter.

Wonwoo, however, doesn't seem as amused. His face twists at some point in your story, whether out of confusion or irritation... you can't tell.

Wonwoo decides to discuss the possibility of the filming project with the villagers, citing that it would be good for business, and to make the place livelier. It comes as no surprise that it's a unanimous yes, given his position as an unofficial chief and all-around genius.

Giving Chanyeol the good news was worth it to see his reaction -- his huge smile, his excited demeanour as he tells his crew. They're all equally excited, huddling to plan out every detail of the show.

As thanks, Chanyeol decides to treat the crew to drinks and urges you and Wonwoo to come. "You guys made it happen, anyway," He reasons, and Wonwoo seems happy to go. It also happens that you can't resist the pull of alcohol.

Except you get drunk. Really, really, shitfaced, to the point that you know you'll black out once you try to stand.

"Easy there, tiger," Wonwoo groans as he pulls you out of your seat.

"Should I bring her home...?" You hear Chanyeol offer, but Wonwoo's already declining as he adjusts you.

"You literally told us just now that you're bad with directions," He huffs in exertion, as you try and fail to make your spaghetti limbs work. "If I let you bring her alone, she won't get home until tomorrow morning."

"Oh, I'm not that bad..." Chanyeol begins to protest, then sighs. "Yeah, I am that bad. Just let me know when she gets home. You have my number, right?"

And all you remember after that is a blur of him carrying you home, the sensation of a blanket being thrown over you, the dampness of a wet towel on your face, and then the world goes dark.

The next morning is so damn painful.

Your head is spinning and throbbing, and you just feel like jelly. When you stumble into the kitchen for water and painkillers, there's a note on the dining table.

Mrs Woo sells really good hangover soup. When you wake up, let me know so we can go eat.

-J.WW

And call him you do, because hot broth sounds really good right about now.

Twenty minutes later, you see him tapping his foot impatiently outside the restaurant.

"Oh, you take forever to get ready," He leans in and sniffs delicately, before nodding. "At least you don't stink."

"Stink?"

"Do you know how much you drank last night?" He asks incredulously. "You downed so much of the makgeolli, over two bottles of soju mixed with beer, and--"

"Okay, I get it. You're making my head hurt." You mutter, embarrassment creeping up your face. "Can we go eat now?"

He chuckles, and swings the door open. "After you, Miss Doctor."

The steam kisses your face. It's better than anything else in the world right now.

Wonwoo looks on in amusement as you scoop rice and broth and tuck in, sighing in enjoyment. "Good?"

"Yeah." You mumble, your mouth full. "People should come here every day."

"Mhm," He hums in agreement as he picks his spoon up. "Don't talk with your mouth full. Are you heading to the clinic after this?"

"Yeah," You reply after swallowing. "Grandma has her appointment, and I have a few new people coming in."

"You sure you don't wanna take the day off?" He questions. "No offense, but you look awful right now."

"Thanks," You roll your eyes. "Can't. Grandma has an appointment today for her brace, and I've got a few new patients."

"Right. Take it easy, then. Delia can help out, right?"

"Delia took the day off. Said Seungkwan was bringing her out or something."

Wonwoo chokes on his soup.

"Seungkwan found the guts to bring a woman out?" Wonwoo is still in disbelief.

You sigh. "Delia might have nagged him a little. She's firm with what she sets her eyes on."

"No wonder. Seungkwan would never have asked her out otherwise."

As you near the clinic, you see a crowd of villagers gathering near your entrance.

"Did someone make a mess or something?" You wonder as you speed up, Wonwoo matching your pace. Once one villager spots you, the rest start chattering at breakneck speed.

"Y/N! How are you doing?"

"Oh, we heard about the accident--"

"Horrible, the weather must have been--"

"You must've felt so terrible at the hospital, dear," Grandma Lee walks towards you and grips your hands. "Here, this is a traditional root herb supplement. It's bitter, but you must eat it all. Helps with energy and recovery."

You smile a little and accept the small paper bag. "Thanks, Grandma."

She turns to Wonwoo and proceeds to slap his arm. "Ow! Grandma, why--"

"I heard you brought her to the hospital. Why didn't you make her stay home and rest?"

You break out into embarrassed laughter. "I insisted, Grandma. Life has to go on. And... he caught a cold because of me, so..."

"Yeah, where's my supplement, Grandma?" Wonwoo asks with a pout, not unlike a child.

"I only have one, you brat," Grandma Lee hisses, swatting his hand. "You're a big boy. Don't tell me you can't handle a cold." You try and fail to hide your laugh and Wonwoo mock-scowls at you.

One by one, the villagers offer you what they can, from fruits to freshly-made green onion kimchi, telling you to take care and call upon them if anything happens. The grandmas thank you for getting Grandma Lee's brace, and you don't even have the chance to ask how they knew.

But for once, amongst the endless chatter and speculating about the weather during the accident, you finally understand the appeal of staying in a village, surrounded by people you know care for you.

"You didn't tell me Wonwoo brought you home after you got drunk!" Delia screeches once she comes into the house.

You look up from your rice. "What?"

"It's literally all over the-- oh, right."

"All over the what?" You get to your feet. Delia, who's in the middle of pulling something up on her phone, flushes and hides it, but you've already seen part of the screen.

"A chat group-- what is that?"

"I don't know! Swear, I just got added in this morning and Miss Hwang said Wonwoo carried you home and that it looked really cute-"

"What? Hey! Give me that!"

"No!"

Delia breaks into a rendition of the "Wonwoo and Y/N sitting in a tree" joke, and you're about to keel over in embarrassment.

And just then, your phone pings with a text from Wonwoo.

"Did you see the secret chat group?"

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

🌼 summary: going back to the countryside where you grew up was at the bottom of your list. unexpectedly, your life changes course, and you eventually find your home in weekly village cleaning, the sound of the waves, and with the local jack-of-all-trades, jeon wonwoo.

🌼 pairing: wonwoo x reader fic (fluff, angst, hometown chachacha!inspired)

🌼 genre(s): fluff, mild angst, yn can be mean sometimes at the start (this is inspired by the kdrama hometown cha-cha-cha, so some parts of the plot and characters are similar), wonwoo is an overall sweetheart

ch.07: producer park

prev. masterlist. next.

🌼taglist: @gaslysainz @lev1hei1chou @mingycr

writer's note: a short update for noww~~

[ch0k3herwithaseaview]

@jegulus-microfic | april 22 evoke | words: 1,6k

big shout out to @frnkmush for helping me with this one, you’re such an angel 🫶🏼

tw: swearing, mentions of wounds

part one

On Monday evening, Regulus received an Instagram message request from someone called jfprongs. He went to check on the person’s profile to see who they were, and—oh god.

At the sight of a radiant smile, bronze skin, and golden glasses, all memories from the night before evoked in him. He suddenly remembered making an absolute fool of himself by asking a doctor who just stitched him up on a date.

While he was drunk.

The first thing he did was send a screenshot of the profile and the message that read just a simple ‘Hi’ to the group chat.

i can fix him (i can’t)

Reg

<2 photos attached>

that’s the doctor from last night

what do i do??????????

Barty

skakksjsksjsjsjsjajsjsj

Evan

x2

Pandora

x3

what is he doing in your dms?

Reg

…

i may or may not have asked him out

There was a short pause before his phone started ringing.

“What the fuck do you mean you asked him out?” Pandora asked, amused. In the background, Regulus could hear Barty and Evan laughing hysterically.

“Well, I was drunk, and he was really hot. We should all be grateful I only did that instead of trying to convince him to fuck me on his desk,” he responded, trying to take off the bandage off of the fresh wound without making it hurt more than necessary.

On the other end of the line, he could hear Panda huffing a small laugh. “Yeah, thank god that whore didn’t come out.”

“Any—oh fuck, it hurts—anyways, what do I do now?” Regulus asked again, finally throwing away the old bandage and starting to clean the cut. He hated using disinfectants on any part of his body, really, but on the face, it felt worse than anything.

His friend hummed thoughtfully. “I think you should text him back and see how it goes,” and so he did.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

On Tuesday evening, exactly at 7:36 p.m., Regulus was sitting on a bench in front of his apartment building and waiting for a grey Mercedes to arrive.

After he answered James yesterday, they talked a bit and agreed that Drunk Regulus’ idea about meeting sooner was actually a pretty good one. So he sat there, checking his phone every three seconds, hoping to see a message that would say ‘I’m here’.

He picked it up again when a grey car parked next to him and the passenger’s window rolled down.

“Hi Regulus, come in,” James invited him with a warm smile painted on his lips.

As Regulus took the front seat, the other man reached to the back, pulling a small bouquet of purple carnations.

“What’s that?” Regulus asked, confused. James eyes widened at that.

“Well, I assumed it’s a date, and I thought it would be a nice gesture, but if I overstepped or misread—“

“No, no, no, absolutely! That is a date, and those are lovely, I just—I'm not used to getting flowers.” He could feel his cheeks starting to burn a little when James smiled wildly, like a happy Golden Retriever.

They finally drove away from Regulus' block, heading towards the city center. The radio played some soft, lofi music that, added to the soft humming of the engine, started lulling Regulus to sleep. James must’ve noticed, because he handed his unlocked phone to him.

“Choose the next song; I’ll pick something after you,” the bronze-skinned man told him. Regulus, extremely eager, grabbed the phone and typed in the title he needed to hear right now. Thankfully, the chill music ended shortly after, and an 80s synth-pop melody came on.

“Somebody runnin’ through the field/Somebody shoulda stayed home/Somebody pickin’ up the body of somebody they were gettin’ to know,” Regulus hummed softly to Matty’s lyrics. James whipped his head at a light speed and looked at him with wide eyes. Regulus gave him a questioning look in response.

“First of all,” James began, “is it the one about the school shooting?” Regulus nodded, smirking. “Okay, that’s surprising. Second of all, you have quite a nice voice.” Now Regulus wasn’t smirking, just smiling sheepishly.

After ‘Looking for somebody (to love)’ ended, there was a disco bit, and Reg wanted to whine as soon as he recognised the song. The only thing that stopped him was that sparkle in James’ eyes.

And then the other man started singing.

“OOH, YOU CAN DANCE, YOU CAN JIVE, HAVING THE TIME OF YOUR LIFE!” and Regulus couldn’t help but laugh hysterically. “What? Don’t you like my vocals?” James chuckled, knowing damn well he sounded like a cat in heat.

“Oh no, your vocals are just as lovely as your smile,” the younger man giggled.

They continued to take turns choosing songs, becoming more and more comfortable, and singing louder and louder.

They reached the restaurant as Olivia’s ‘all-american bitch’ was coming to an end.

“Wait here,” said James, getting out of the car and running around it, just to open Regulus’ door. The older man held out his hand in a dramatic gesture.

Reg rolled his eyes, taking the hand and getting out as well.

“Such a gentleman,” he commented sarcastically, yet still, he could feel the warmth spread inside of his chest at this small move.

They walked into the restaurant hand in hand, talking lightly about their favourite type of pasta. James gave the hostess his name, and the woman led them to their table, giving them two menus. Regulus scanned it in search of the cheapest meal, so he could afford it. The restaurant wasn’t really fancy, but it was still expensive.

“15 pounds for Carbonara? Is it made of gold?” He mumbled, but apparently not quietly enough, because James replied, ‘Don’t worry, it’s on me’. This caught Regulus off guard. “What do you mean? I asked you out; I should be the one paying.”

“Yeah, no,” was all James said, and the other man kept looking at him in confusion. “You’re a student; I work full time; it’s only fair if I pay,” he continued, looking up from his menu.

Regulus opened his mouth as if to argue, but quickly shut them back up. “Yeah, okay, you have a point.”

After that, they talked only about what they should order, settling on a lasagna for James, pumpkin ravioli for Reg, and a bottle of rosé.

“So,” the older man started. “What do you study?”

“Oh, um, painting. I’m in art school,” he mumbled in response, taking a sip of his wine. “I’m not gonna lie, I know it won’t get me a lot of money, but I love it. I can’t imagine doing anything else, even if it means I’ll have to eat pesto pasta for the rest of my life.” He couldn’t exactly read James’ face; it looked kind of blank.

“Can I see any of your work?” he asked finally, sounding actually interested. So, of course, Regulus reached for his phone and started scrolling through it in search of the pieces he was most proud of. When James saw the one with the white stag running through a blue forest, he pointed at it and exclaimed, “That. I want that one in my living room,” and Regulus laughed lightly at him. “What? I mean it. How much do you want for it?”

“A thousand pounds!” the younger man kept chuckling.

“Deal.”

“Wait, are you for real?” He looked at the man opposite him in bewilderment, and as the other nodded with a smile, he couldn’t help but smile himself.

It was how the rest of the evening went—they ate, talked, drank wine, and talked some more. They left, again hand in hand, discussing a playlist for the ride home.

They were just a few blocks away from Regulus’ building when he decided to turn the radio down a little.

“Thank you,” he said, turning to James. “I had a really good time.”

“Would you like to do it again sometime?” The other man asked, also turning.

“Yeah, sometime,” he answered softly, pink blooming on his cheeks. He received a small smile back.

When they finally reached his block, Regulus didn’t get out immediately. Instead, he fully turned to face James and looked him deep in the eyes. The older man didn’t break eye contact; he only smiled brightly.

Please, kiss me. Please, kiss me. Please, kiss me.

James reached in his direction, brushing a loose curl from Regulus’ face back behind his ear. Instead of withdrawing his hand, James put it on his cheek, caressing it lightly with his thumb.

They stayed like that for a few seconds (or hours) before James broke the silence.

“Can I walk you to your flat?” and Reg just nodded in response.

They got out of the car the same way they did before. Holding hands, they walked up the stairs to the third floor. As they reached his door, Regulus turned to James again. And once more, James’ hand found its way to Reg’s cheek. The moment was tense, almost tangible. Until-

“Can I kiss you?” The older man whispered, like a secret.

Yesyesyes

Regulus only managed to nod once before he felt soft lips on his. It wasn’t an obscene kiss with a lot of teeth and tongs; it was gentle and sweet, like the first kiss in middle school. It didn’t last long either—far too quick for Reg’s liking. James rewarded him with another sweet kiss, this time on the forehead, before he pulled away with the same bright spark in his eye that appeared during ‘Dancing Queen’.

“Good night, Regulus,” he said softly, taking a small step back.

“Good night, Jamie—I mean James,” the older man chuckled, shaking his head.

“I like it; you can call me Jamie. I’ll see you soon.” And with that promise, he turned around and walked down the stairs, throwing just one last look at Regulus before disappearing on the floor below.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Black Light 13

Warnings: noncon, namecalling, violence, other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: Thank you for waiting! Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You don't go home. He might be big and scary but you're a grown woman. He made sure of that, didn't he? So you disappear into the shadows and lurk, watching the girls in their shimmering dresses and the men in their open collars line up for entry.

August stands on one side of the doors, Lee the other, and they go about their work. They stop pairs and groups to check cards and wave them inside, pointing others back onto the street. One man refuses and receives a violent shake from your man. You almost giggle as you peer around the chipped brick.

It slows down to only a few ambitious clubbers here and there. It must get boring just standing outside and staring at the street. No wonder he's so moody. The only thing exciting in his life is his own emotion. You can't judge, you don't have much going on either. You haven't even got a summer job. Wait, that's a brilliant idea.

You calm yourself. Tonight, you have another mission. You just have to be patient.

You smile and nearly bounce in place. Oh, you are excited. It will have to wait of course, but it's always nice to have a purpose.

You yawn as your phone jitters. You turn away to hide the glow and check the notifications. It's Hottie. Her ID makes your stomach churn. For some reason, the idea of seeing her again makes you nauseous. Almost as if she did, she'd see right through you. She's so smart and tough, and you... you let him follow you and then...

Oh but it's such a special moment, you just want to bask in the afterglow just a little longer.

-

It's early. Or late, depending on your point of view. Time has always been a conundrum to you. A line with no end.

You watch as the club empties out, last call ending with a deafening silence. The absence of the blaring music is louder than its thumping bass. You linger, rubbing your eyes, yawning once more.

You back up as girls teeter past drunkenly in their heels. You can't see the front doors but you know he won't leave right away. He has to make sure everyone's out. You wait until the coast is clear and go to peek out once more.

Your mind wanders, as it often does, and you think of that day when he came to get that couch. You remember his truck... Hmmmm.

You creep across the street like a cat. You stay close to the wall as you approach the club and dip around to the lot. There aren't many cars there. You turn on your phone light and squint; you think that's the right plate. It is the only truck in the lot.

You shut off the light and put your phone away. You hug your scrapbook under one arm and step up on the large tire. You haul yourself up and flip over the top, landing heavily as the book falls out of your grasp. You retrieve it as you gasp for breath and drag yourself into the corner. He won't check back here, besides it's too dark.

You lay folded against the metal and try not to fall asleep. It's tempting as it's nearly three in the morning. You hear a door clatter open and shut, voices tossed back and forth. A deeper voice met by a sheepish murmur. You hold your breath until they fade away and the door opens again.

Footsteps and nothing else. Boots mulching on the stray bits of gravel across the pavement. The truck chirps as it unlocks and shifts as the driver side door swings out. Oh, it's him!

You lock up and fight the urge to jump out and holler 'surprise'. In due time.

He turns the engine over and reverses out with a sharp veer. You're jostled by the movement as he puts his foots down on the pedal. Oh god, he's an aggressive driver.

You're wide awake as he takes corners with no caution. He is consistent. You latch onto your scrap book, not wanting it to slide around and give you away. The cool night blows over you and sends a shiver up your spine.

Finally, he slows, coming to a halt after another jolting veer. You wait and listen as he gets out, grumbling in that cute way he does. You sit up and edge over to the other side. You watch his shadow and push yourself back as he passes.

As he turns between the next row of cars, you scramble to hope out of the truck bed and use the bumper to lower yourself down. You run after him, puffing as he walks steadily towards the apartment building. You're caught off guard as he turns and catches you by the throat. You squeak and drop the scrap book, clasping onto his thick wrist.

"Ach, Poo-kie," you croak out, "it's just me--"

He grunts and squeezes tighter before relenting, instead grasping the front of your shirt, "what are you doing?"

"Um, duh, I came to see you. My boyfriend--"

"Stop," he hisses, shaking you. "You're really starting to get on my nerves."

"Hey, don't be so rude," you hit his chest, "I came all the way out here in the middle of the night--"

"How did you get here? How do you know where I live?" He snarls.

You're silent. The truth might not help your case.

"Lucky guess?"

"Goddamn it, what--" he rasps, "you are insane. You are going to get yourself hurt, little girl. I told you, we only fucked."

"Well..." you bat your lashes, sliding your touch down his forearm, "we can do it again..."

"Huh?" He recoils, letting you go as you stagger on your feet.

"Yeah!" You clap your hands, "maybe this time it won't hurt that bad."

He's quiet, only letting out a deep exhale.

"You need to forget what happened--"

"How can I?" You counter, "it was my first. You're my first." Your voice grits as a swell of heat flows up from your stomach, "I won't forget."

"I'm telling you to go--"

"You said you love me," you pout.

"You made me--"

"And you made me do... do that thing," you accuse right back, "you don't just get to walk away."

Silence, again. He rolls his shoulders and crosses his arms, his silhouette looming even larger.

"You should," he growls, "walk away before this gets messy."

"I'm not going to," you say, lip trembling.

He shakes his head and drops his arms. He steps closer and reaches for your shoulders, gripping tightly as he leans in.

"You don't learn easy, do you?" he sneers and lets a hand snake up to the back of his neck. He twists you around, pinching meanly as he marches you ahead of him. "I'll fucking teach you.”