#Bad. really bad. for her to show up after vanishing to who knows where with Zor? with her lipstick ruined?? they're going to talk about tha

[mothbeasts]

hovers ominously in the corner of your room….. i think you should talk abt zor taking their little kity to galas or i’ll die don’t let me die

okay... sniles

I don't think Zor makes public appearances very often. But on one of the rare occasions they do, they accompany the Fabricator to a gala. Well. Really, she accompanies them, dragged along to an event she could really care less about and pinned to their side the entire time.

And, of course, everyone is talking about it. It's a rather unexpected couple appearance, and clearly there's something going on between them, judging from the way Zor has their arm around her the entire evening. And the matching outfits. The Fabricator discarding her signature blue and purple tones with a splash of red, opting for red and black and gold... It's all people seem to talk about.

And once the two return from a secluded area of the building, the Fabricator's lipstick smeared. Well. That certainly doesn't help matters.

It's one of Zor's tactics, really. Humiliate her in front of her peers. Further isolate her. Her reputation is in shambles... Where else could she go? Nobody would respect her now. They both know how the spaces they belong to are... They'll eat the Fabricator alive for that. Tear her to shreds.

Zor knows she'll never forget her place again... She's theirs, and everyone knows it.

[yutarot]

the forbidden fruit. — req by anon

genre: vampire!jaehyun x reader

warnings: mentions of death

wc: 2.7k

notes; i enjoyed writing this so much, thank u for the request!!

synopsis: your quiet life shatters the night you meet jaehyun—a dark, mysterious stranger who emerges only at dusk. you’re drawn to the intrigue of his haunted character, unaware he’s a centuries-old vampire, burdened by a past he longs to escape. though he tries to keep his distance, jaehyun can’t resist the warmth he finds in you. just as your connection deepens, a even darker rival appears, threatening to reveal jaehyun’s secret and tear you apart. now, you must decide: confront the darkness surrounding you both or risk losing a love that transcends life and death.

you never knew why, but he has always intrigued you. having recently moved back to your hometown to look after your late grandmother’s bookshop, you spend each day stacking books and listening to the crackling wire of her old radio. the weather always seemed to be an abundance of mist, the town nestled between dark forests and ancient mountains. but you never thought you would find love here, especially not with the mysterious, reserved, and almost cold man who lurked between the bookshelves every day before you closed.

at first, it didn’t bother you; you get regulars all the time. but there was something about his quiet intensity, always finding him lurking in the shadows, emerging only when the sun dipped below the horizon. it was strangely magnetic.

so that leads you to now, having to close the store early in order to accommodate some of your grandmother’s old friends. somehow lacking any kind of fear, you walk through the shelves in search of any lingering customers.

that’s where you find him, brooding yet strikingly handsome, holding a copy of twilight in his left hand, gently flicking through the pages with his right. almost immediately, he senses your presence. but he doesn’t look up, instead keeping his eyes trained on the page as he speaks to you.

“you know, i’ve always wondered what the apple on the cover represents,” he says, his voice shockingly gentle. “some say it shows their forbidden love, like the apple from genesis, morally wrong yet intriguingly good.” he puts down the book, slowly lifting his eyes to you. “but i think it’s more than that. i think it shows edward’s desire, his temptation,” he walks towards you, slowly, “his want.”

he stops in front of you, looking down at your expression of confusion.

“what about you? what do you think it shows?”

you’re quiet for a moment. “i think that edward is the forbidden fruit. he’s the bad decision she makes, he’s the sin.”

he smiles at your answer. “i’ve never looked at it that way before.”

gaining confidence, you reply. “meyer quoted genesis in the beginning of the book, but i don’t think it’s the romance that was forbidden. it was him.”

“you really know your stuff,” he replies.

“you’ve read all the books in here?” you say jokingly, but his answer catches you by surprise.

“just about.”

“what?” you laugh, “that would take, like, centuries.”

his eyes darken, jaw clenching. “something like that.”

you didn’t see him for a few weeks after that. he had vanished, completely and utterly removed from your life but, never, from your mind.

he was all you could think about. every passing day you searched for him between the darkness of the bookshelves, his dark hair, his tall frame, but you never found him.

that was until the day you decided to leave the bookshop. you don’t usually leave to go on walks, but amidst the autumn breeze, you needed a break from the essence of old paper and ink.

the leaves crunching beneath your feet and the frost nibbling at your cheeks, you find comfort in the environment around you. it was dusk, your favorite grey color of the sky setting a backdrop for the orange hue of the trees. walking past a frozen lake, you take in the sights, scanning your eyes around to take it all in.

suddenly, you feel a chill arise along your skin.

you aren’t alone.

you turn frantically, feeling the presence of someone moving around you, but your movements quickly betray you as you stumble on your feet, falling backward.

processing what just happened, you stay seated, the urge to get up and leave mysteriously absent.

something—someone—is making you stay.

and that becomes immediately clear the moment you hear his voice.

“yn ln.” it’s the man from the bookshop.

you’re taken aback. “how do you know my name?”

“i’m not stupid.”

“what?”

“you were watching me in that bookstore, ever since the first day i visited, and now your heart aches at my absence. do you wish to explain?”

your heart races as you watch his jaw clench. explain? your mind whirs in circles. in all honesty, you have no idea.

but he’s right. your heart does ache.

he continues, “i was away.” he offers his hand to help you up. “on a trip.” you take his hand.

immediately, the chill you felt before returns. his hand is cold, lacking all and any warmth. it was as if he were sucked dry of life, completely and utterly soulless.

you gain balance on your feet before you speak up.

“who are you?”

that singular question seems to dull his senses, the smile on his face wiped clean.

“who am i?” he repeats, eyes darkening like they did in the bookshop. he thinks for a moment before continuing, “walk with me.”

and so you do. you walk with him. stride after stride, he tells you about his life, about growing up in the neighboring town, about his mother who passed giving birth to him, and about his friends back in his hometown. you listen, not only to his stories but to his voice. it’s soothing, gentle, and something tells you that you’ll wish to hear more of it. but you notice there are important details missing; there’s something he’s not telling you.

when you both reach your bookstore again, he halts, signaling he’s dropping you off.

you walk to the door, but remembering your heartache at his former absence, you call out to him.

“when will i see you again… uh…” you pause, his name unknown to you.

“jaehyun.” he smiles, “and you will see me when you need me. it only takes patience, love.”

with that, you smile back, turning to put the key in the lock. but when you turn back to wave him goodbye, he’s gone, the place where he stood now only a puddle of brown leaves, encased in frost and the scent of the tall, dark stranger you now know as jaehyun.

in the weeks that followed, you saw him more frequently. each time he came into the bookshop, you would pass him a smile, and he would sit, engrossed in the worlds of the books he’s reading. each day you would talk about your shared interests, and each day your curiosity grew. you wanted to know everything about this man. it wasn’t just his looks that intrigued you; there was something aurally magnetic about him. the way he looked at you, like you were something he couldn’t have but desperately wanted. you wished to uncover why.

he had just picked up an edition of crime and punishment by dostoevsky when you come over to him, a warm mug of tea in your hands.

“i brought you this; you must be cold.”

he looks between the tea and you, a polite refusal in his eyes.

“…or not.”

he chuckles at your ability to read him. no one else has ever been able to do that to him. no one, until he met you.

jaehyun doesn’t come back for the books; he’s read every book in this little town bookstore. yet, each night, he finds himself at the front door, hoping for a chance to see you.

he doesn’t want to see you, he doesn’t want to talk to you.

but he needs it.

he folds the book over in one hand, leaning back in the soft, green velvet armchair you’ve placed in the corner of the bookshop.

he speaks, surprising you again with the softness of his voice. “i think it’s interesting.”

your brow twists in confusion before he continues.

“raskolnikov seems alienated from society, no matter what he does or how he does it.”

you listen intently.

“yes, he’s a murderer. but even before then, it was always his pride that separated him. it’s fascinating.”

“you enjoy literature a lot, don’t you?” you say.

he laughs. “a little. why else do you think i’m in here so often?”

a secret part of you was hoping for another reason for him to be here. but your mind was its own fantasy, unrealistic and yet completely tempting.

“you’re different from all the rest of my customers,” you reply.

this makes jaehyun’s face contort into an expression you’ve never seen him wear before: hope.

“how so?”

“i’m not entirely sure.”

your breath catches, caged by the fear of him suspecting the feelings that linger. but it’s almost as if he can hear your heart, beating in your chest. because you’re sure that he knows.

your conversation is abruptly interrupted when you hear the bell to the bookstore door ring, signaling that you’ve got a new customer.

“i should probably go and… yeah… enjoy the book!” you say to jaehyun, who laughs at the way you so easily panic over the tiniest situations. from an outsider, it would seem that someone had walked in with the intention of blowing the place up with the way that you reacted.

as you turn the corner to approach the customer, the chilling feeling you felt at the lake begins to fade into you. it makes you wonder if you were wrong about it, presuming it was just something you felt around jaehyun, but it made no sense. you’re walking away from him.

interrupted again from your thoughts, you arrive at the door, the customers back to you.

you reach up to tap him on the shoulder.

“hello, how can i hel-“

his hand covers your mouth.

“save the talking for when you need it.” the stranger whispers, as you push his hand away.

that was rude, you think to yourself.

the stranger continues. “im looking for… something.”

“what is it? maybe i can help you? it is my store..”

“hmmm. it’s about 300 years old, pretty.. local..”

you furrow your brows. 300 years?

“well, sir that could be anything. gullivers travels, candide, paradise lost?”

his eyes glimmer with amusement. “no, no, none of those. i’ll just have a look around myself.”

confused but albeit very annoyed by the man’s lack of respect, you allow him to look for himself. and you find yourself on your way back to where jaehyun is sitting.

only when you get there.

jaehyun is gone.

but the book remains on the green velvet armchair, open on its final page. you read the words in which had been underlined.

‘They wanted to speak, but could not; tears stood in their eyes. They were both pale and thin; but those sick pale faces were bright with the dawn of a new future, of a full resurrection into a new life. They were renewed by love; the heart of each held infinite sources of life for the heart of the other.’

you threw the book back down, the final sentence echoing over and over in your mind.

your heartache, his cold demeanour. it was as if you both needed each-other for the simple aspect of life.

startling you, you hear a bang across the other side of the bookshop.

you turn on your heel, pushing the thought of jaehyun to the back of your mind as you waver your way through the shelves. but your attempt to disregard your thoughts of him is soon in vain as you find him, holding the stranger by his collar against the shelf. jaehyuns eyes are the darkest you’ve ever seen them, his skin the palest it’s ever been. and his teeth.

you gasp to yourself, clutching your chest and trying to hold yourself up against the bookshelf.

you don’t recognise him, but he looks more like himself than he ever has.

his head turns in your direction and immediately his visage returns to normal, the stranger he’s holding removing jaehyuns grasp on him, chuckling to himself with a smirk.

your mind is spinning.

“so this is why you haven’t come home.” the stranger says to jaehyun.

his words from before come back to you. ‘hmmm. it’s about 300 years old, pretty.. local..’

he wasn’t talking about a book. he was talking about jaehyun.

you have nothing to say, nothing to feel or even think.

but the unease you felt about him before, seemingly has vanished.

everything you had been questioning. everything you were unsure of, has been answered.

the stranger continues, “i knew there was a reason. but i never would have suspected this.”

jaehyuns fists clench, knowing he can’t do anything with you here.

“your choice.” the stranger says to jaehyun before turning to you. “and by the way, pretty, im jungwoo.” he winks, before walking out the door and vanishing soon after.

you stay completely, and utterly still. jaehyuns eyes are only on you. he can’t tell what your thinking and it drives him utterly insane.

“are you okay?” he asks, stepping closer to you.

you should flinch, you should tell him to get out.

but you can’t.

you nod, slowly and indefinitely.

“i didn’t want this to happen,” he says, walking closer, slowly as to not scare you, “but you..”

you look up at him.

jaehyun holds a hand out to push a strand of hair from your face, gently. “you’ve done something to me.”

your eyes widen. but you can’t help but nod, a silent yet powerful indication of the way your feeling. but you know now that he can hear your heart, he can hear the reaction he has on you. he knows it’s not fear. it’s love.

he looks between both of your eyes, soaking in the feeling of being able to breathe in the same air as you. his hand finds your cheek and he leans down, everything is so slow, so gentle.

but before his lips could find yours. he stops himself, his brows crunching as if he’s in pain, hurt by having to let you go like this.

your eyes are full of questions. “why did you-“

“i can’t.” he says, sternly. “i can’t kiss you.”

“why not?”

his jaw clenches, his hand remaining softly on your face.

“i have a choice to make. this only makes that so much harder.”

“what choice?”

he gulps. you’ve never seen him nervous.

“either, i return to my family.” his hand brushes through your hair, reluctantly, and he pulls it away just as he states his next words. “or he tells my father.”

“what will happen if he told your father?”

he looks down, pain on his features.

“he’ll kill you.”

that’s when you realise. the forbidden fruit. it’s what he feels for you, what you feel for him, thats the sin.

‘but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it: for in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shall surely die.’

he disappears, vanishes into nothing, as you stand, warmth returning to the air around you.

you let him go.

the next few weeks are tiresome. he hasn’t left your mind, and you haven’t left his. pain envelopes you everytime you think of him, soaring through your memories like dust in a cloud of wind.

in attempts to clear your head, you decide to take a walk again. the fog is heavier this evening, weaving through the trees and laying around the lake as if it were a blanket, soft and comforting.

you listen to the birds, melancholically singing away at eachother. but it only reminds you of your loneliness.

you long for him, mind and soul.

riddled by the effects of the winter air, the breeze makes you shiver. but when the cold doesn’t let up, the feeling oddly familiar, you turn.

there he is. standing before you, a tormented expression of a tortured soul, resting on his features.

this time, you walk to him. this time, you’re completely certain.

you stand before him.

“id rather die in the arms of certainty than to live without a chance.” you breathe, watching him intently.

but he only smiles, searching in your eyes. and at last, he presses his lips to yours.

he’s soft, yet firm.

he shouldn’t want you, he shouldn’t need you. but he does.

for if you died, it would be for this moment.

‘even more, i had never meant to love him. one thing i truly knew–knew it in the pit of my stomach, in the center of my bones, knew it from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet, knew it deep in my empty chest–was how love gave someone the power to break you.’ — stephenie meyer, twilight.

[regiawrites]

And There Will Be No Tenderness - S.R

Warning(s): Sub!Spencer, Fem!Dom!Reader, Brief Overstimulation, Riding, General Idiocy Word Count: 6134 Summary: Y/N and Reid never see eye-to-eye, but one kiss changes everything.

Garcia hustled into the conference room as quickly as she could with the height of her hot pink pumps, fiddling with the remote as she moved. "Good morning, my lovelies," She greeted the team. "Sorry for the hurry, but this one's a bad one."

"When are they good ones?" Rossi asked dryly as he flipped open the manilla folder in his hands.

"An excellent point," she granted, "but this one is particularly bad." 

She clicked the remote and a series of gruesome images appeared on the screen, so gruesome, in fact, that even Hotch's face twitched. Four women, clearly dead, were covered in blood, bruises, and an array of other injuries, although no two seemed similar.

"These unfortunate four are Kerry Whittingham, Jasmyn Willis, Carly Smythe and Louise Fresca," Garcia said, gesturing to each of the women as she did so. "All of these women have been missing for between 6 and 11 months, all reported missing by their families within a week of them vanishing."

"How have they been linked together?" Morgan asked. "They all have different causes of death." 

"Yeah," Y/N agreed. "Kerry Whittingham was evisceration, but it says here that Carly Smythe's cause of death was drowning. What's the connection?" 

"That is where things get really bad," Garcia said with a grimace before clicking the remote again. 

Four images of matching symbols appeared, each woman having the same mark burned into their wrists.

"Are those brands?" Y/N asked, horrified, making brief eye contact with JJ who mirrored her expression. 

"Human trafficking, maybe?" Emily suggested and Garcia nodded. 

"The local police department thinks so, yeah." 

"So, they're being sold-" Y/N started, but was cut off by Reid scoffing 'Obviously'. She shot him a glare but spared him no response as she continued. "-and showing up dead. Are there any signs of sexual abuse?" 

"Only on Jasmyn Willis," Garcia answered.

"So, they're not being sold to be sex slaves," Y/N guessed. "They're being sold to be killed."

"Or they're just being sold to whoever's interested," Reid contradicted, as he always did. "I doubt a human trafficker cares." 

"But they WOULD," Y/N argued with a roll of her eyes. "If they were being traded for sex, the trafficker would be more concerned with keeping them alive." 

"Y/L/N's right," Hotch said, and Y/N shot Reid a smug smile that he ignored. "A trafficker would want to keep the women alive so they could continue to bring in money. They're likely being kidnapped and traded with the sole purpose of being tortured and killed." 

"What like some kind of sick eBay for serial killers?" Rossi asked, face twisted in disgust.

"That's one way of looking at it," Hotch sighed as he stood. "Wheels up in 20."

As the team filed out of the room, Y/N glared at Reid as they walked towards the bullpen. "Stop contradicting me at every chance you get, asshole!" she snapped at him, and he raised an eyebrow.

"You know," he started, "research suggests that those who frequently use curse words are less intelligent than those that don't."

"Oh, shut up, Reid."

"Most likely due to a lack of adequate vocabulary," he continued.

"Shut up, Reid."

"I'm just saying, maybe you'd be less insecure about me 'contradicting' you if you-"

"If you're about to imply I'm an idiot, I will hit you," she told him, glaring up at him as they reached their desks. She leaned down to grab her go-bag from beneath her desk.

"You're also very quick to resort to threats of physical violence, which further suggests you have a lack of trust in your own intellect," he said, grabbing his own go-bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Don't profile me, Reid," she said, voice flat and unamused, before she turned and headed out. 

Trailing after her, Reid said, "I'm not profiling you; I'm making an observation about a coworker." 

"And your observation is that I'm stupid?" 

"I don't think you're stupid," he said with a shrug, and Y/N narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him.

"You don't?"

"You're a qualified profiler, you can't be stupid," he said. "I do, however, think you're reckless, untrusting of yourself and quick to jump to conclusions." 

"I'm not untrusting of myself," she argued, though she couldn't say she wasn't reckless. She was notorious for thinking with her heart and acting on impulse.

"If you weren't, my contradictions wouldn't bother you." 

"That is so not how that works!" she snapped. "How would you feel if every time you said anything, someone was like 'uhm, actually'?" As she said 'uhm, actually', her voice slipped into a high-pitched, nasally lilt, and she mimed pushing glasses up the bridge of her nose.

They reached the elevator, and continued to bicker as they stepped inside.

And for the whole elevator ride down. 

And for the whole walk to the jet. 

Mercifully, the pair sat at opposite ends of the jet, and didn't talk to each other for the flight, so the team had some peace.

 ***

Within a few hours, the team was set up in the conference room of a police station in Pasadena, Captain Ray Jenkins sitting among them. He was a tall, portly man with a thick moustache and a heavy brow.

"So, the suspect you have in custody had DNA matching two of the victims in the back of his van?" Y/N asked Jenkins.

"Yes, and he also had Carly Smythe's engagement ring in his glove box," he told them, showing them a picture of a diamond ring. "He's remaining silent, though." 

"I'd like to talk to him," she said, and Jenkins nodded. From somewhere beside her, Reid snorted, and she turned to glare at him. "What?" 

"I'm shocked you want to talk to him, is all," he commented with a tight-lipped smile. 

"Why would I not want to talk to a suspect?" she demanded, and he shrugged. 

"Talking involves patience. And tact."

"Oh, 'tact' says the most awkward person I've ever met," Y/N snapped. "I've had to watch you talk to women before, you don't have much tact then." 

Reid turned to face her straight on and level her with a glare, but Hotch held a hand up. "Don't start," was his only warning, effectively shutting them both up. "Y/L/N, you talk to the suspect." 

***

Kyle Hannigan was skinny.

That was the first thing Y/N had noticed about him as he sat across from her in the interrogation room. 

Skinny and short.

There was no way this man kidnapped those women, at least not on his own. 

"You didn't kill those women, Kyle," Y/N said, leaning on the desk between them, flipping through the pictures. 

"That's what I've been saying all this time," he huffed back, testy. As irritated as he sounded, he looked unnerved as his eyes flicked to-and-from the photographs of the mutilated women.

"You don't even know who killed them, do you, Kyle?" she pushed.

"No!" 

"I don't even think you touched them," she said, fighting back a smile when he raised a questioning brow at her. "I mean look at you-" she gestured to him, "-you're short, you're skinny. Jasmyn Willis was 5'9 and a weightlifter, she could have fought you off blindfolded." Kyle's jaw ticked at the insult, but he remained silent. "You're just the delivery driver." 

He stared at her, dark eyes looking up through his brows.

"So, if you're just the delivery driver, who got those women into the van, Kyle?" she asked. "And more importantly, who's running the operation?" 

He continued to stare at her, silent. 

"You know, whoever's above you in the food chain is absolutely going to let you go to prison for this," she told him. "Hell, they probably want you to take the fall. You gain nothing by protecting these people." 

"It'll be my word against his, and no one will believe me over him," he said, low and slow, leaning towards her with a glare. "So, what's the point?" She, too, leaned forward and matched his fiery glare with a cool, flat stare.

"Your word against who's, Kyle?" 

His eyes flicked towards the one-way mirror behind her, then back down to her, and she didn't miss the desperation in his eyes. 

He wanted to tell her.

He looked up at the CCTV camera positioned in the corner of the room.

"Who?" 

He continued to stare at her before raising his right hand, forming it into a claw shape and tapping it to his shoulder.

"That's all you're getting out of me," he said, before folding his arms over his chest.

***

"A claw shape that he tapped to his shoulder?" JJ asked. "What does that mean?" 

"It's ASL," Reid said matter-of-factly, pulling out his phone. 

"And what's it ASL for?" Jenkins asked him, and Reid shrugged. "I thought you were a genius."

"That doesn't mean I'm all-knowing," Reid said, simply. He began typing something into his phone.

"Great load of good that is, then," Jenkins grunted. "What do we do now?" 

"Our tech analyst is looking through his cell phone history to see if there's any suspicious activity that could be an accomplice," Hotch informed him, but Y/N didn't pay much attention to Jenkin's reply as her phone vibrated. 

She unlocked it and, surprised to see a text from Reid, she looked up to give him a questioning look, but he was pointedly not looking at her. Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, she tapped on the notification and had to force her face to remain neutral.

Reid: It's ASL for Captain.

And that was how Reid and Y/N found themselves snooping around Jenkin's office, looking for incriminating evidence. After forwarding Reid's text to Hotch and Garcia, she slipped into his office, followed by Reid.

"This is not how we're supposed to do this!" Reid hissed at her as she rifled through one of his drawers while he kept watch. "Nothing you find like this will be admissible in court."

"Yeah, yeah," she grunted, closing the drawer as quietly as she could before opening the next one down. 

"We're going to get caught." 

"Not if you do a good job keeping watch, we won't," she said, reaching for a drawer with a lock on it. She pulled and it didn't budge. "Shit, it's locked," she mumbled, looking around the desk for a paperclip, which she found in a small plastic cup, and bent it into an L-shape. 

"What are you doing?" Reid whispered, panicked and stepped away from the door.

"Keep watch!" she hissed back, wiggling the paperclip around and managing to twist the mechanism, unlocking the drawer. "Aha!"

"Why am I not surprised you can do that?" Reid asked, not looking at her. She glared at the back of his head.

"Because I'm a cornucopia runneth over of useful skills," she snarked as she started digging through the drawer. 

"Sure, that's why," he said, but she paid no mind as she started flicking through a folder she found. 

"Holy shit, Reid, I got something," she said, and he spun around to look at her.

"What, really?" he asked, walking over to her and she tilted the folder so he could see it. "Is that-?"

"Carly Smythe, yeah." 

From Y/N's hands, Carly Smythe's bruised, but very alive, face stared back at them from in front of a dirty wall. She was only wearing a white tank top in the picture, and her hair was flat and greasy, eyes hardened as she glared at the camera.

This picture wasn't a part of the investigation.

The picture was stapled to another sheet of paper, one with messy writing scrawled over it. 

Carly

24

140lbs

5'6

Brown eyes

Brown hair

No Tattoos

Limited known sexual history

Sweet voice

$10k min

$33k to Poseidon

"Oh my God," Reid muttered. 

"She isn't the only one either," Y/N said, flipping through the rest of the pages, through profiles of several women, including the four known victims. "We have to get this to Hotch." 

Before Reid could say anything, they heard Jenkins' voice coming from somewhere outside. Y/N's heart dropped.

"You were supposed to keep watch!" she whispered accusatorily at Reid, who sputtered out a response she didn't listen to as she lifted her shirt and shoved the folder into her pants, covering it when her shirt fell back down.

"What are you doing?" he asked her, eye flicking Wilding between her and the door as Jenkins' voice got closer. 

"Smuggling this out of here," she said, like it should have been obvious.

"And what excuse are you going to give him for us being in here?" he demanded, holding his hands up in distress.

"Kiss me," she commanded, and he choked.

"Excuse me?"

"Kiss me!"

And he did.

As the door handle turned, he surged forward and their mouths connected, lips crashing together. 

Reid grabbed Y/N's hips, pulling her body towards his as his tongue glided over hers, taking her by surprise as he took complete control of the kiss. She slid her hands into his hair, tugging it at the roots.

He whined into her mouth, and all higher thought ceased in Y/N's mind.

Pulling his hair harder, she kissed back with a punishing harshness, vaguely registering her ass hitting the desk as Reid pushed her against it, sliding his hands from her hips up to her waist, around her back and pulling her back against him. She caught his bottom lip between her teeth and tugged on it, making him whimper in a way that had her whole body heating up in response. 

"Ahem." 

Gasping, they tore away from each other and spun towards the door to see Jenkins smirking at them. "I don't think that's an appropriate workplace activity, Agents," he commented, and Y/N grinned in faux sheepishness. 

"Sorry, it’s all new," she said, pushing Reid away from her less harshly that she ordinarily would. "We can't keep our hands off of each other." 

"I won't tell your Captain, don't worry, sweetheart," he said, a look in his eye as he turned his gaze to her that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

Both Y/N and Reid managed to get out of the room, and the folder shoved into the front of Y/N's pants felt like it weighed a tonne.

It took less than 24 hours before Jenkins was on the other side of police custody, coughing up information about his clientele.

Six days later, four other men had been arrested for the murders of the women, and had several other murders linked to them.

Three weeks later, the Team had busted a huge ring of human trafficking. 

One month later, Y/N was still thinking about that kiss. 

Each member of The BAU had been rewarded (read: forced to take) a two-week period of leave after the events of the bust. Morgan had been shot, Rossi had a joint dislocated and, all-in-all, it was an incredibly stressful time.

Five days in and Y/N was going stir-crazy from both the boredom and the haunting thoughts of Reid’s mouth on hers. Every so often her mind would wonder to the plush look of his lips, or the intense furrow of his brow, or- when she was particularly out of control- the whine he’d made against her lips when she pulled his hair.

By day seven, she’d exhausted her Netflix subscription and had purchased Disney plus.

By day nine she’d nearly finished The Golden Girls and was out-of-her-mind bored.

As Dorothy made a snide comment, Y/N’s phone notification went off, and she practically jumped on it in all her enthusiasm. Her enthusiasm promptly dissipated when she realised the text was from Reid, and she rolled her eyes.

Reid: Are you busy?

You: No why?

Reid: I’m bored.

You: Okay and?

Reid: Are you telling me you’re not?

You: Well obviously but I didn’t text you to complain about it

Reid: Can I come over? Everyone else is busy. I’ll buy you pizza.

You: I can buy my own pizza

Reid: It tastes better when it’s free, no?

You: Fine you can come but if you don’t have the pizza I’m not letting you in

Reid: Deal. I’ll be there in an hour.

Oh, God, Reid was coming over.

She tidied up her living area, even rearranging the throw pillows on her couch before looking down at the ratty T-shirt she was wearing and had been wearing for a least three days. She debated leaving it on, but your skin tingled unpleasantly at the thought of Reid seeing it and she reluctantly decided to change.

But she couldn’t change into clean clothes without showering.

And if she was showering anyway, she may as well shave.

But if she shaves without exfoliating, she gets ingrown hairs.

That dangerous train of logic is what compelled her to take an ‘everything shower’, listening to music while she pampered her skin and ridded herself of all body hair. For Reid of all people too, to add insult to injury. He probably wouldn’t even appreciate it, not that she’d give him the chance to appreciate your silky-smooth legs, but still. Some acknowledgements of her immense efforts wouldn’t go amiss.

She stepped out of the shower and slathered herself in vanilla-scented lotion, before dressing into a simple pyjama set consisting of loose (but very short), plaid shorts and a black tank top. The doorbell rang just as she slid her feet into her slippers. Checking the clock, she rolled her eyes when she realised it had been almost exactly one hour since his last text, the punctual motherfucker.

She shuffled to the door and looked through the peephole to make sure it was actually Reid, snorting at the way the lens disfigured his face in a bizarre perspective, before letting him in. “Reid,” she greeted, as neutrally as she could when she wanted to tear into the pizza box that he was holding. It wasn’t lost on her that it was from her favourite local place.

“Y/L/N,” he responded in much the same tone, stepping in and slipping his shoes off and revealing a mismatched pair of truly bizarre socks, setting them on the shoe-rack beside the door. He’d known her for long enough to know she absolutely did not tolerate shoes inside her home, and she tried not to feel fond.

“That pepperoni?” she asked, jerking her head towards the pizza box.

“Obviously,” he said, shooting her a distinct look of irritation, like she’d asked a stupid question. “Hey, I don’t know your life,” she snapped. “You could be one of those freaks that like Hawaiian.”

“You know, it’s widely considered fact that the components of balanced flavour are ‘salt, acid and sugar’, so by that logic, a Hawaiian Pizza would-“

“Oh my God, you’ve been here less than five minutes and you’re already doing the thing,” she groaned, taking the pizza box from him and walking to the living area.

“What thing?” he asked, following behind her.

“The ‘uhm, actually’ thing!” she says, plopping down onto the couch and setting the box on the coffee table. He rolled his eyes again and sat down next to you, not deigning to respond.

Silence settled over the two of them.

Dying for anything to relieve the awkwardness, Y/N leaned over to grab a slice of pizza, aware of Reid’s eyes on her. She turned to shoot him a questioning look, but he didn’t meet her gaze and pointedly stared at the TV.

Fuck, his jaw was sharp, and his neck was an elegant arch.

An echo of his desperate whine ricocheted in her head for a moment as she stared at him.

Such a sweet noise from such sweet lips, pillowy and plush against hers. If a kiss was all it took to wring noises like that from him, she couldn’t help but be curious what noises he’d make if she put her hands places that weren’t his hair...

When he swallowed and cleared his throat, she snapped out of her stupor and chewed on her slice, turning back to the TV.

Half an hour later, neither of them had said anything. At some point, Y/N had taken the half-eaten pizza into the kitchen, and bought back a bottle of water for Spencer, who nodded in gratitude, but the awkward silence remained.

They snuck glances at each other, but it became apparent they didn’t know how to be civil with one another.

“So,” Y/N started clumsily. “You done anything interesting on your leave? “I- uh-“ he cleared his throat “-Re-read some of my favourite works in their original languages, I wanted to see if they held any nuances that got lost in their translation.” “Interesting,” Y/N said. “I imagine that killed time for about a day.”

“Yeah, it didn’t take long,” Reid laughed quietly. “I’ve spent the rest of the time writing to my mother and watching Doctor Who.” “It’s a good show. Tennant is the superior Doctor.” “Naturally,” Reid agreed, shockingly enough. “Although I’m partial to Eccleston for nostalgic reasons.”

“Who’s your favourite sidekick?” “Donna Noble,” he replied. “I think she had the most character, and her personality complimented The Doctor well.” “I thought Martha was cool, too,” Y/N said. “Even though she was obviously just a rebound for The Doctor to try to get over Rose.” “Some of my favourite episodes are from when Martha was on the show,” he told her and she smiled, smally at him.

“Really?” “Yeah! ‘The Waters of Mars’ was incredible!” Y/N felt her heart flutter at the way his eyes lit up and his mouth broke into a wide grin, deciding to ignore it. “Oh, God, that’s the one where the water’s poisoned and makes the people at the station into- like- zombies, right?” Y/N asked, twisting around in her seat to face him properly. “That freaked me out. Like the one in the library.”

“Where River Song is first introduced?”

The conversation flowed with an ease that was unfamiliar to them after that, and it turned out they had a lot more in common than either of them thought.

It wasn’t long before they were sifting through Y/N’s streaming service subscription, settling on a horror movie they were both fond of.

The Fly.

“You know, even with the clunky visual effects, this movie is still incredible,” Reid commented quietly, not looking away from the screen.

“Probably because it’s a romantic tragedy more than a horror movie,” Y/N said. “It doesn’t need to rely on visuals, the story-telling does most of the heavy lifting.” She turned to him. “Although the ‘clunky visual effects’ are better than some CGI I’ve seen recently.” Reid laughed at that and nodded. “Yeah, I can’t argue with that,” he said.

This was too weird, and it was making Y/N itch. It was making Y/N come closer to giving in to the urge to press her mouth to his.

“Shocking,” she said, drily, trying to shift their dynamic to what it normally was. “You usually contradict me every chance you get.” Reid stopped laughing and cast her a side-ways glance.

“I’m simply correcting you,” he said.

“My asshole you are,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “And don’t start with the whole ‘people who curse are less intelligent’ shit, or I will throw you out, pizza and all.” “And to think we managed to have several civil conversations,” he groaned, taking a sip of his water and rolling his eyes. “Well, it was nice while it lasted.” “I’m being perfectly civil,” Y/N said, knowing full-well that she wasn’t. “Just admit that you get off on proving to everyone that you’re smarter than them.” “You have no idea what I get off on,” he snapped, turning to her. When their eyes met, time stilled for a moment.

She’d never noticed before how his deep, brown eyes flashed gold in the light.

“What do you get off on then?”

The question had escaped her lips without her permission, and she abruptly snapped it closed as they looked at each other with wide eyes.

“What?” he asked wearing a look of pure shock, like he didn’t even believe he’d heard her correctly.

“Nothing!” she practically squawked, looking away from him and ignoring the feeling of her cheeks heating up.

“Did you just ask me what I get off on?” he choked out, looking incredulously at you as you awkwardly looked at him, looking away again immediately.

“Pfffft, no,” you lied, stupid as he’d clearly heard her.

“You totally did!”

“Okay, so maybe I did,” she admitted. “It kinda just slipped out, I don’t actually wanna know.” “Don’t you?” he asked, voice dropping into a husky tone she didn’t know he was capable of.

She gaped at him, not even knowing what to say. “I-“

“I’ve seen the way you’ve looked at me since we kissed,” he told her, leaning forward. “Your eyes keeping dropping to my lips, and your pupils dilate when they do.” He leaned in closer to her. “You also keep absentmindedly biting, licking and playing with your lower lip when you look at me.” “…So?” she asked, not denying it. They both know he was too good a profiler to lie to, especially about something he’d observed himself.

“So, you can’t stop thinking about it,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper. “And you want to do it again.” When she didn’t say anything, he moved closer to her, so close, in fact, that they could feel each other’s breath puffing onto their faces.

“Do you want to know why I really asked you if I could come over tonight?” he asked, lips so close to hers it was agony.

“Why?” she asked breathlessly.

“Because I want that, too.” She gave in.

With both of her hands on his cheeks, she dragged him the extra inch forward and slotted her mouth against his, swallowing down a keen that threatened to bubble out at the contact. His long, deft fingers gripped her waist and pulled her closer to him, and she followed his pull as elegantly as she could to land in his lap.

Immediately, and like she’d been wishing she could do for a long month, she sunk her fingers back into those brown curls and tugged. The soft noise he made against her lips was hardly the high-pitched whine that had haunted her, but it was enough to make her double her efforts, pressing her body against his and kissing him with poorly hidden aggression. He matched her sudden ferocity, sliding his hands around to her ass and squeezing hard enough to have her breath stuttering out of her chest. When he chuckled against her mouth, she bit down on his lower lip, just a quick tug in between her teeth, but it was enough to make him gasp, and she took that as her opportunity to pull his head back by his hair and look down at him.

Eyes blown out, cheeks flushed pink and his lower lip already kiss-swollen, he already looked like a mess.

“God, I want to fucking ruin you,” she hissed, grinding down over his hips and grinning wickedly at the firmness she felt against her. He whined, his eyes flicking upwards momentarily before he refocused on her face. “Please do,” he gasped, rocking his hips up against her, gripping her ass again.

“Already begging?” she teased. He glared at her, but it was hollow, before he reached up to grab the back of her neck and drag her to his lips again.

When their lips crushed against each other’s, Y/N’s hands immediately started to rip at Reid’s shirt, almost ripping the buttons off in her haste to get it off him. He whined into her mouth at her aggression, reluctantly taking his hands off her to slide the sleeves of his button up off his arms, leaving his chest bare to her. She raked her nails down his chest, trails of pink following her fingertips, and he arched into her with a sweet keen. She pinched his nipple with one hand, and he gasped. Taking his surprise as an opportunity, she slid her mouth across his jaw to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses down his neck, pausing to bite and suck at the sensitive juncture between his neck and shoulder.

“Oh!” Reid moaned, thrusting his hips against her particularly hard at the overwhelming sensation. “Oh, God, Y/N, please.”

“Please what?” she taunted, continuing to leave marks on his neck, and continuing to tease his chest. She ground her hips against him far more firmly, speeding up her steady rhythm. “I don’t- I- Oh!” he struggled, breaking off into a whimper before he could get the words out.

“If I knew that this was all it took to get you to shut up, I’d have done it sooner,” she said, laughing cruelly when he glared at her. Still choking out a chain of whimpers and whines, he slid his hands up her tank top, cupping her breasts, long, deft fingers pinching her nipples harshly in retaliation. She squeaked, shocked, turning to him with her own glare. He gave her a paradoxically shy little smirk, proud of himself, and it infuriated her.

When she pushed herself backwards, down his legs and away from the bulge in his pants, he whined in protest. She pulled his zipper open, shoving the soft fabric of his boxers to pull his cock out, hot and heavy in her palm; it was bigger that she thought it would be, definitely bigger than average, and delightfully thick.  “Oh, God, what are you going to do with me?” he asked, voice breathless and desperate as he tried to buck into her hand, whining when her weight on his lap meant he couldn’t drive up enough to get any real friction.

“I’m gonna use you,” she told him, stroking his cock deliberately slow, squeezing around his sensitive head.

“Oh, fuck!”

“Until you can’t even think anymore.”

Nodding enthusiastically and gripping her hips, he tried to drag her back towards him, but she tsk’d. She placed a hand on his chest to push him onto the couch and used the leverage to stand up. Slowly, she began to push the waistband of her shorts down, the way he stared at the movement as though hypnotised flooded her brain with a heady feeling of power. “Reid?” she cooed, and it looked like it took a tremendous amount of effort for him to drag his eyes from her hips to her face.

“Ye-yeah?” he stuttered out, almost absentmindedly reaching for his cock and fisting himself in a loose grip. She bit her lip as she watched the tentative movement. “Do you have any condoms?” she asked, hoping to God he said yes. The hope was foiled when he looked at her with an expression of panic.

“No, shit, no, I don’t,” he huffed, and she could see him calling himself an idiot in his own head.

“Fuck it, I’m clean and on birth control,” she said. “Are you-?”

“Yes, I’m clean, Y/N,” he said, a pleading look on his face. “God, I’ve been thinking about this for a whole month, please don’t make me wait.” Ordinarily, she’d tease him, but seeing as she had felt exactly the same way, she finished sliding her shorts down her legs, leaving them on the floor as she straddled him once again. She pushed her hips down on his, grinding her wet pussy over the throbbing heat of his cock and they both gasped. “Please, don’t tease,” he begged, looking up at her with the saddest puppy dog eyes. “Just fuck me, oh my God, please.”

“Eager,” she teased and slapped her ass in retaliation, making her yelp and jolt forward, making her wetness slide over his cock once again. She started grinding down deliberately hard to get back at him.

He threw his head back and gasped, and she took that as a chance to start sucking and nibbling on the column of his throat.

It didn’t take long before he was whining in that sweet, sweet way that made her head spin. “Please!” he whimpered desperately, pushing his hips up to meet her movements, and she relented. Pulling away from his neck, she lifted herself up before sinking down on his cock.

“Fuck!” “Oh, God!”

He was fully inside of her, stretching her out in a dull ache as her adjusted to him. “Fuck, you’re so big,” she mumble, gently starting to rock as the ache lessened. He didn’t respond, and the glazed look in his eyes made her question if he’d even heard her. He grabbed her ass, kneading the firm flesh in a way she thoroughly appreciated.

Slowly, she started bouncing, and he screwed his eyes shut, whimpering quietly at the almost overwhelming feeling of her hot, wet pussy squeezing him. “You feel like heaven,” he whispered, jaw going slack as she started moving faster.

It didn’t take long before they we both panting, flushed and desperate as the moved against each other. At some point, Reid had wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in the crook of her neck, licking and sucking and biting wherever he could reach.

Y/N sunk her hands into his hair, gripping it tightly to keep him there as the brutal pace she had set brought her closer to the edge. The way he was practically sobbing into her neck told her he was close, too.

“Reid,” she panted, pulling his head away from her neck by his hair. He looked up at her, flushed cheeks and mouth hanging open, eyebrows hitched and eyes watery. He looked so fucked out she couldn’t help the pride that rushed through her. “Are you close, baby?” she asked him with a cruel smirk, and he nodded pathetically, crying out when she gripped his hair tighter to cease the movement.

“Please,” he begged. “I’m so close!” “Don’t you dare cum before I do,” she hissed, leaning back a little so the hand that wasn’t in his hair could rub her clit.

“I’m trying, I’m trying, but you feel so good! Ah, ah, please cum, please cum, please cum!”

His begging, desperate and needy, pushed her over the edge, her fingers on her clit and his cock filling her up as she toppled over the precipice of her orgasm. She cried out his name as her walls shuddered around him, dragging him over too. He cried out, louder than he had before as his orgasm wreaked havoc on his body, his legs shaking and tears finally dropping onto his cheeks. He babbled an incoherent stream of pleas as oversensitivity kicked in, crying that it was too much as she rode her own orgasm.

Her bouncing slowed to a still and she fell against him, both breathing heavily and flushed.

It took several minutes for both to catch their breath, and for coherent thought to be functional again.

Y/N hurried into the bathroom to clean herself up and tried to not spiral into panic; not only had she has sex with a coworker and totally violated the fraternisation policies at the bureau she’d had sex with Reid. Worse, she realised she didn’t regret it. She should, but she doesn’t, and she has never believed in being guilty about things that don’t warrant guilt.

She supposed it was harmless, really. Honestly, if they had this new way of working out their animosity towards each other, they’d probably be more pleasant to be around.

So, really, fucking him was for the good of the team.

Yeah, I’m totally doing it for the team, she told herself as she finished cleaning herself up.

When she left the bathroom and returned to the living room, his shirt was back on his body and his cock was tucked back into his pants. He was sitting there looking so awkward it was painful, and he didn’t look at her when she sat beside him.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” he said quietly, and she sighed. “No, we shouldn’t have,” she agreed. He nodded, eyes not moving from his hands where they were folded in his lap. “So, what now?” he asked.

“I have condoms in my dresser,” she offered, laughing when his head shot up and he looked at her so incredulous it would have been offensive if it wasn’t so funny. “You don’t want to do it again?” “No, no, I do,” he rushed out with pinkening cheeks. “I just didn’t think that you’d want to! “Well, I do,” she said matter-of-factly before standing up and walking towards the bedroom. When he didn’t immediately follow, she turned around with a raised eyebrow. “Are you coming or not?” she asked.

Reid had quite possibly never moved so fast in his life as he followed her giggles to her bedroom.

[leaderwon]

HATE THAT..

chapter 39 — what a bitch

Synopsis :- In a world where lovers are destined and written by fate, You hated the idea of a soulmate, or maybe you just hated him. Jake wanted a soulmate, a lover to be with for the rest of eternity. Just not you. Not wanting eachother, the both of you occupy yourself with someone else. But the universe had other plans.

luna's diary : a small chapter, I'm really sorry. i intended it to be longer but I'm not really feeling my best

warnings : Jake is a bitch, we hate pisseul and mentions of violence

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The welcoming faces of Jake's parents greeted you as you stepped into the house. The middle aged woman hugged you as a smile adorned her features.

You loved Jake's mom, she was kind and extremely sweet. The best part about her though? Her cooking.

It was the main motivation that made you come here. You didn't know what it was, no matter how old you were or what the situation was, you would always eat whenever she cooked for you.

You saw Jake's dad hug yours as they wanderered off to whatever old men do.

"Come to the dining room, I've prepared all your favorites" You heard Mrs. Sim say to you with a warm smile on her face.

Going deeper into the house, you heard Jake's voice as he was conversing with someone else.

You didn't think much about it, until you saw her.

"Park Iseul?" Your mom's cheerful voice broke you from the mini shock you had gotten.

Whatever excitement you previously had, was now vanished as you looked at Iseul hoping it was a dream.

This cannot be happening.

Your mom embraced the girl in her arms as she pointed out on how pretty Iseul had gotten.

She was right, Iseul had gotten pretty ever since she came back from america

You felt insecurity take over you as you noticed your mom looking at Iseul with all the love in the world in her eyes.

At this moment, you envied Iseul. Ever since you arrived back home, all you recieved were dry replies or glares from your mom.

Seeing someone who caused all of this in the first place recieve the look that you deserved snapped something inside you.

"Iseul missed Jake, so she decided to join us for dinner tonight" Her mom exclaimed as she handed you a plate, showing you where your favorite food was placed.

You were starting to lose the remaining bits of your appetite as a gut feeling of something about to get worse started to annoy you.

This was Park Iseul we were talking about. There's no way in hell she would let you be in peace.

You were having an amazing time catching up with Jake's parents trying your best to ignore Jake and Iseul who say across you.

"Y/n, Do you still play football?" Jake's dad curiously asked you. "Oh yeah, i recently joined the football team as center forward" You replied.

"She got captaincy too" Iseul said as her annoying voice butted into the conversation.

"What about you Iseul, have you been playing after america? I heard you also joined the same university as Jake and y/n" Your dad asked the girl.

"I was playing for a while, but i got into a tiny accident" She said as she gave your dad a smile.

What a bitch.

"Tiny accident? Iseul don't lie" You heard Jake's voice for the first time since this dinner had started.

"What do you mean?" Your mom asked questioning the two of them.

"It's no-" "Ms. Y/N here wanted captaincy so bad, she got Iseul into an accident" Jake said interrupting Iseul.

No.

"What?" Your dad spoke in shock.

Your mom had an idea of you "bullying" Iseul, but your dad was kept out of the loop to prevent a fight breaking out in your house. Which you were now sure was going to happen.

"Iseul, is this true?" It was Jake's dad turn to speak up now. "I'm sure she didn't mean it" She said innocently.

Innocent my fucking ass. I'm gonna kill this bitch.

Jake who was now visibly pissed started talking about how I had "allegedly" bullied Iseul.

The whole table went into an awkward silence as people started to take in these fake peice of information.

You stood up catching everyone's attention. You felt a rush of adrenaline as you finally spoke up, "Iseul's lying. I didn't bully her" You tried defending yourself.

"I don't know wh-" Your dad interrupted you getting up from the his seat as well. "We're leaving" He said sternly.

"Thank you so much for having us" He continued making his way to the door as the color of your face slowly drained.

Jake knew how your dad was, yet he still did this over a lie?

You were having trouble believing this situation was real. Your eyes made their way towards Jake as he looked anywhere except you.

He knew your dad was violent. Fortunately, he wasn't so physically. But you absolutely despised your inner peace being broken by a fight in your house.

You couldn't count the days you've ran to Jake crying your eyes out.

He had to feel some sort of emotion right? Sympathy? maybe.

All your hopes were crushed as he finally connected his eyes and gave you that glare.

"Y/N, let's go" Your mom said. You gave Jake a look of disbelief as you finally left his house mentally preparing yourself for what you were about to face.

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[lady-ace]

Injustice Spirit

(Injustice Ghost, part two)

(I'm so happy for the support on the first part, i'm glad you all liked it! :) Anyways, heads up again, this will talk about what happened to Billy in injustice, have some blood, and angst.)

According to the other members of the League, Diana is the last person the ghost showed himself to.

The Leaguers don't even got to ask the boy's name, as after he appeared to Clark, he stayed silent, ever watching. Arthur has said he's been feeling watched lately, same with Barry, Hal and Bruce.

They all started to notice scratch marks appearing on some places. The Zeta tubes, by example. The scratch marks look like somebody desperately scratched at it after failing to operate the Zeta, and was trying to get out.

Diana sighed, walking to the observation deck. Maybe watching the vastness of space and the bright stars will clear her mind?

When she arrived, she noticed someone sitting on the floor by one of the big windows, looking outside, hand on the reinforced glass.

“It's the ghost.”

Was Dianas first thought upon seeing him. The ghost was indeed as small as everyone said he was, and even more frail. He looked like if a strong bit of wind would knock him over, if ghosts could even be knocked over or touched by the wind.

Melancholy was clear on the spirit's face, reflected by the glass. He seemed not to notice Diana walked in, even though her reflection should be on the glass, too. Maybe he was deep in thought.

Diana didn't want to interrupt the poor boy, but he seemed just.. so lonely. Bruce had said that everyone's accounts, except for Clark's and Barry's, were extremely brief encounters. No words were exchanged, only the brief surprise of encountering the ghost, and him being surprised at being seen, before vanishing yet again.

The sound of Diana's boots echoed against the silence of the room as she approached the ghost as silently as she could, not wanting to scare him.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?”

Diana said, as the spirit's head snapped to her in an instant, startled even though she said it as calm and as quiet as she could.

The ghost watched her like a wounded animal, wary, and looking for any reason to bolt. Yet, he didn't. He wordlessly nodded, and Diana looked at the glass once again.

“The stars are so bright. Sometimes, i still stop just to admire how pretty they are.”

She mused, as the stars seemed to shine brighter in response to her compliment.

The ghost (They really needed to find out his name. it seemed so wrong to just call someone 'the ghost' or 'the boy' all the time.) seemed to think, but his head didn't leave Diana's direction, so she assumed he was still looking at her, shoulders looking tense.

..Until suddenly, they weren't as tense, as he relaxed a littlest bit.

“You really aren't anything like her.”

The ghost noted, his words repeating in a echo. Diana didn't how what he meant. Maybe she reminded him of somebody he used to know?

“You're good. Strong, but not evil. A inspiration, a hero. You're what she should have been. What she once was.”

Is what the ghost followed up with, his voice choked. The boy's arms started to shake.

Diana looked at the poor soul in front of him with concern. Who was 'she'? Did she hurt him? Is 'she' the one who killed him? So many questions, yet none of those she would have asked. He doesn't need questioning, he obviously needs someone to be there for him. To hear him.

“I'm sorry.”

Is what Diana started with, as the ghost looked up at her. She just knew that if the ghost had eyes, he would be holding tears back as she spoke.

“I may not know who you're talking about, but she doesn't sound lovely. I'm sorry you had an bad experience with her.”

That seemed to be the straw that broke the camel's back, as a choked sob left the ghost, his whole body now shaking, small droplets of blood leaving the holes of where his eyes should be, imitating tears.

He threw himself at Diana, hugging her, as if he let go, she would be gone. His small figure shaking like a leaf as sniffles and sobs left him. Interestingly enough, he seemed somewhat more solid, and didn't phrase right through Diana, like what happened to Clark.

“You're g-good, right? Y-you wouldn't..”

He said between sobs. Diana noticed that her clothes and armour would be very bloody with tears, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She slowly hugged the crying boy back, using one hand to run her fingers through the small boy's hair, hoping to calm his desperate sobs down.

“T-they used me. I was b-blind and d-dumb and so stupid and..”

The boy continued, not letting go of the hug but now trying to look up at Diana.

Diana shot him a look that she hoped was comforting. She may not know what happened to him, but he clearly needed to get this out. The poor boy seemed to hesitate for a bit.

“You aren't dumb or stupid. Please, don’t beat yourself up like that, dear.”

That seemed to give the boy courage, as he let go of one hand to wipe away tears with his sleeve, the bright red hoodie now having a bit of blood on it.

“I-i thought we were doing the right thing..”

The spirit said, looking up at Diana. He couldn't look smaller like this, and it breaks Diana's heart.

“T-they called themselves heroes. Nobody stopped him.. they just... watched.”

Oh. Is the poor boy a villain victim? The thought of failing someone like him, leading to his death, hurt Diana even more. She didn't know the boy, but she would be damned if she let anyone ever hurt him again. And so, she hug him a little bit tigher, whispering encouragements as the boy paused to sob, his face now running with the bloody tear tracks.

“Grundy w-was the one who buried me. i n-never went home.”

That seemed to remind the ghost of something. Diana frowned. Who did that? Who was cruel enough to let someone like Grundy bury a child?

“Oh g-gods i never went home. M-Mary.. F-Freddy.. t-they're all still waiting.”

Oh.

He had a family. A family who didn't know he was murdered in cold blood and let to be buried by a villain. She didn't think this could get worse, but yet, it kept getting worse.

“T-they're still in the danger.. AND I CAN'T HELP THEM!”

This launched the ghost to a panic, pushing himself off the hug as he grasped his head. Diana felt so impossibly lost. She wanted to help him, but she didn't know what to or not to say- the poor ghost just realized his family probably just thought he was missing, and, according to him, were also in danger.

Diana grasped his shoulder gently as the spirit started to hyperventilate.

“Hey, hey. Could you look at me?”

Shakily, the ghost's head turned to her.

“Thank you. Could you imitate my breathing?”

Diana inhaled, then exhaled slowly, trying to get the ghost to copy her. When she noticed he was trying to, she smiled.

“Yes, just like that. You're doing great.”

The spirit continued until his breathing leveled up again and he slumped against Diana, utterly exhausted.

“I'm sorry.”

He apologized, wiping his bloody tears yet again, this time with the other sleeve.

Diana simply hugged him again.

“You don't need to apologize for anything, sweetheart. You did nothing wrong.”

The boy slowly nodded, and seemingly fell asleep, utterly exhausted, probably both mentally and phisically.

“I promise i won't be like those who hurt you. Nobody will ever hurt you again, if i have anything to say about it.”

She pet him, now looking up the glass, at the stars.

They truly looked beautiful.

/ / /

(Part 2 done! This will have a part 3, and it will be the final part.)

[manicpixiedreamcurl]

The More You Give ❧ (Part VIII)

Pairing | Eddie x shy!reader Warnings | 18+ only. Do not interact if you are underage. Roleplay (PrincessxWannabe Usurper lmao), sexual fantasies (including rockstarxgroupie), Eddie says some weird possessive stuff but reader likes it, oral (M receiving), P in V sex, dom!Eddie, sexual guilt as per, there’s aftercare. Word Count | 10,400 A/N | Nobody ask me about the timeline of this story, either in the fic or how long it takes me to write it. Taglist Previous Chapter

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The air is stuffy, despite the growing chill outside. The last days of Summer are at least a week gone now, and with Autumn comes heated stores. An ABBA song is playing on the main floor, filtering through enough for you to make out the tune. It’s the sort of thing your Mom plays in the car all the time, your mind following the words even though you can’t quite hear them over the buzzing ceiling lights. 

I try to capture every minute, the feeling in it. Slipping through my fingers- 

The curtains pull back, the sound of metal over metal dragging you to full attention. May’s eyes are bright with excitement as she twirls, showing off how the strapless black dress fits around her waist and flares out at her hips. 

“It’s perfect, right?” She says, smoothing it down only to twirl and puff the skirt up again. “Ooh, let me see with the jacket.” 

You search through the bag at your feet for the cropped jacket she’d found earlier, then watch as she pulls it over her shoulders. She fluffs her hair and poses in the mirror at the end of the changing room hallway. “I mean it actually is perfect, right?”

“For sure, you can totally see who you are already.” 

“Right? And then I can just backcomb my hair a little. My Mom’s gonna lend me her scarf. God knows what earrings I’ll wear, but I can work it out. Definitely can’t get anything new after this,” she finishes, turning her head and pulling at the tag on her back to double check the price. She pulls a face before tucking it away gingerly.

“That bad?” 

“That bad. Even with 30% off.” May smooths her hands over the skirt again, turning once more to the mirror. Her smile lights up her pretty face. “But totally worth it.” 

Once the dress is folded and wrapped in tissue paper by the woman at the counter, paid for with what seems like every spare penny in May’s purse, attention moves to your costume. “Okay, Fairy God Mother,” May says, linking her arm with yours. “Game plan. Where do we need to go?”

“I think just the costume store. I have a blue dress I can use. But I’d like some wings and a wand. Maybe a tiara, if I can afford it.”

“Ugh, you’re gonna look so cute. Are you sure you don’t want to come to Tommy’s party?”

“The whole reason I’m dressing up is for Grace,” you reason, spotting the orange banner reading City of Fright, which appears in the same spot every year mid-September and vanishes November first. 

Gone are ABBA’s lilting tones, replaced with stock Halloween music, the occasional creepy laugh and thunder clap. The entire front of the store is complete costumes, wrapped up in plastic and hanging on metal rods, but once you reach the shelves at the back, you are surrounded by an array of vampire teeth, witches hats and face paints. 

“Eddie’s renting Theatre of Blood,” you tell her, not waiting for a reaction before launching into a prepared defence. “It sounds really good. It’s about an actor who takes revenge on his critics by murdering them like Shakespearian deaths - drowning in Malmsey wine, that kind of thing. He picked it cause, you know, he thought I’d like it.” 

“Okay, but she’ll be in bed by what? Eight?” May asks, wandering around the table of paraphernalia as you start thumbing through fairy wings piled next to fake blood bags, searching for the right blue. “You could come after.”

There’s a moment of silence, then she sighs softly. “Okay, I will say it’s kind of cute that he picked that. In a weird, not really that cute cause it’s a horror movie about gruesome murders, sort of way.” 

You stifle a grin, chancing a look at her over the table. “That sounded…almost like a compliment?”

“Almost,” she agrees, walking back round to your side. Then, before you can answer, she has seized a shiny silver plastic tiara and is reaching out to place it gently on your hair. “There. Fit for a Princess.”

You shake your head, laughing. “What about a Fairy Godmother?”

May hums, grabbing a set of the net and wire wings and pulling them over her arms. “I’m the fairy now!” She declares, raising her chin and going up on tiptoes to whirl around the racks, wings shaking behind her. “Here to make all your Halloween costume dreams come true!” 

Your heart warms, a giggle escaping as she peers curiously at the rubber masks and cat ears in character, mumbling about the strange habits of humans. 

“Oh please, fairy godmother! I need a wand if I’m going to look anything like the real thing!” 

“A wand, of course!” She cries dramatically. “No true fairy would be seen dead without their wand.” You watch her scurry on tip toe around until she comes to a display of wands of various colours, topped by stars and hearts, sequined tassels and glittery handles. She wiggles her fingers above them, picks out one with a simple silver star and travels back to you gracefully. You take it from her with a flourish. “There, and now your wings.” She helps you into your own pair, then turns and throws a graceful hand into the air. “Now, we fly!” 

You flit about after her, laughing at her with every pause she takes to frown disapprovingly at fake scars and rubber spiders. She stops in front of a Tinkerbell costume, pointing with a surprised smile at the model on the package. “Hey, I know her!”

You snort a laugh and it sets her off, all attempts to stifle your laughter only making it worse. Your giggles are only beginning to settle when you feel the sudden awareness of being watched tickle the back of your neck. 

“Uh, hi girls.” 

Your heart drops. Caroline stands, a hand over her mouth, barely covering the smirk. “You look like you’re having…fun.”

Suddenly, the clear elastic of the wings is too tight around your shoulders. You can feel the crooked angle of the tiara atop your head, close to slipping off entirely. The wand in your hand isn’t silver now, just chipped paint on plastic. 

Next to you, May is wrenching off her wings, laughing airily. “Just messing around,” she assures, folding them up and holding them with a tight fist at her hip. “You costume shopping?”

Caroline looks around at where you are. “I mean, obviously. Not for me, though, for Ethan,” she sighs. “You know boys, no interest in shopping.” She sets her stare on you, eyes scanning from the crooked tiara downwards. “Are you girls dressing up together?”

Your throat feels blocked, leaving you just to shake your head. May answers for you both. “No, no. Like I said, we’re just messing around. So we should probably put this stuff back.” She slides her wings into the space between some hanging masks before elbowing you into action. You’ve abandoned the tiara and wand and are in the process of sliding off the wings when she adds, coolly, “I’m actually going as Madonna.”

Caroline’s smirk falls, replaced at terrifying speed with a deep frown. “What? You can’t, I’m doing Madonna. I’ve got a veil and everything. Ethan’s going to be Sean Penn.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m going as her in Desperately Seeking Susan, so it’ll be, like, totally different.”

“But I don’t think there should be two Madonna’s,” Caroline continues, almost sounding sympathetic. She crosses her arms, shrugging. “You’ll just have to go as somebody else.”

“Oh,” May says, shoulders falling. “Um, right. I get what you mean.”

You’re not in the habit of arguing with Caroline. It’s been easier, historically, not to contradict her or answer back. But you can feel May deflating beside you, and it tumbles out. “But you won’t look similar or anything, they’re completely different costumes.”

“They’re not though.” She answers with finality. “They’re both Madonna, and the last thing we want is comparisons, right? People talking about who wears it better all night?”

May nods. “You’re right. Totally. I’ll think of something else. No worries.”

“But May, your dress! You can’t return it now, it was on sale!” 

“It’s fine,” May snaps before smiling close mouthed at Caroline. “I can find something else to wear, no issue.”

“You could be fairies together!” Caroline says. “I bet the guys at Tommy’s party would love that.”

“No, no, like I said, we were just messing around,” May says. “Not really my thing. And anyway, she’s not coming on Friday.”

“Oh no!” Caroline pushes her bottom lip out into a pout. “But I haven’t seen you outside of school in ages!”

“I’m babysitting,” you explain, clutching your removed wings in your fists. 

“Oh sure you are, not spending the night with your boyfriend. We hardly see you anymore, I feel like there must be so much detail we’ve all been missing out on. You’ll have to come on the next girls trip, right May? So we can hear all about you and…Eddie.”

Your heart pounds as May nods. “Yeah,” she answers. “Eddie can’t have all your time.”

“Perfect. Well, let me know what you end up doing, May! See you later, girls!”

She flounces away, and May hides her face in her hands. “I can’t believe she saw me doing that.” 

“It’s okay-”

“It’s not!” She says, throwing her hands up. Her eyes shine with frustrated tears. “It’s not okay! Not for me, anyway. It’s different for you, people already think you’re weird.” 

You blink at your friend. Then you look down at the speckled linoleum floor, watch the spots fuzz and blend into each other as the lump in your throat builds. Before five seconds have passed, her arms appear at your sides, pulling you into a tight hug. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean that.”

But you know that she did. You know that’s exactly what she thinks. 

For the moment you have to think about what you say now, you imagine calling her out on this. Pushing her away and telling her that she doesn’t have to spend any more time with you, given you embarrass her so much. You’d buy your fairy wings and your crown, walk out with your head held high. 

Maybe she’d call after you, apologise again, say that losing you isn’t worth impressing Caroline or sitting at the cheerleader table.

But maybe any pain she’d feel at the prospect of your friendship ending would only bring out her anger. Maybe she’d swear to never speak to you again. 

If you were somebody else, someone who didn’t love May, maybe you’d take that risk. But you are you, and you’ve loved May since you were five. To you, the only thing worse than feeling hurt yourself is the thought of hurting her back.

So you shake your head at her shoulder, blink away tears and squeeze her tight in your arms. “It’s okay,” you whisper. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” you nod, pulling away from her collar that smells the way being seven smelled. You release her, and in turn her arms fall from you. “I get it, you’re just stressed.”

“I know! I don’t know what I’m going to do about my costume!” 

Your heart pangs. You swallow the lump in your throat that’s trying to rise back up. “Well, at least the dress is black,” you say, sniffing quick and quiet. You drag your hands over your eyes, clearing away the wetness clinging to your bottom lashes. Stop it, you think. Stop crying. “Let’s return the jacket, yeah? Then you’ll have money for a witch hat or something.” 

May nods slowly as she thinks it through. “Okay, yeah. Yeah, that works.” She gives you a relieved smile. “God, what would I do without you? Let’s go.”

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“Well, I didn’t think I wanted glasses because Katie has glasses,” Grace explains, holding her plastic pumpkin, now close to overflowing with candy, in both hands at her stomach. She looks at you with a look too knowing for a seven year old, then continues. “Katie is a tattle tale.”

“I see,” you nod. 

“But I want ones like Jessica’s!” She cries, arms extending with the weight of her treasure trove before she pulls it back up. “They go dark in the sun!”

“It’s not the same,” she whines. “And then when we went to the optom- uhm.”

“But you already have sunglasses,” you reason, picturing the little red plastic pair you’ve had to run back for when out on walks many times. Grace hefts the pumpkin again and you give in, lifting the bag from her grasp and burying your wand in with the candy. You soften when she grabs your hand with a deep sigh.

“The optometrist?”

“Yeah, when we went to see him, he said my eyes were perfect!”

“Well, that’s good.”

“No!” She yells, dramatically, pulling on your arm with her whole weight until you have to  heave yourself back up. You stifle a giggle at her distraught expression. “Because now I’ll never get glasses, and everybody has them.”

“Well, first of all, I’m sure not everybody has them,” you say, smiling down at her grumpy face. “And secondly, you shouldn’t just want something like glasses because other people have them, even if it was everybody else. You can’t just live your life just trying to be like everyone around you.”

“I know,” she mumbles. Then, catching your raised eyebrow, “I know!”

You round the corner to her street, and by the time you’re approaching her house, she’s moved comfortably on to the next topic of her candy eating schedule for the next three days. “Because Jessica saves all her Skittles for last,” Grace explains, her position now firmly against being anything like Jessica. “Which is stupid, because you should have the best candy first.”

“Mm? Why’s that?”

Grace looks at you with a frown. “Because the best comes first,” she tells you, with the tone of somebody kindly trying to hold in their frustration with an imbecile. 

“Of course, silly of me to ask. Hi, Mrs. Miller!”

Grace’s Mom was clearly waiting for you near the front door, already out and standing on the front steps as you walk up the front path. Grace holds her hands out to take her bucket back, launching forward when she’s got ahold of it. “Mom! Look at all my candy!”

“Whoa! There’s no way you’ll be able to eat all that!” Her Mom says, eyes comically wide. “Think you need someone to help you out, hm?”

Grace shrieks indignantly, running under her Mom’s arm inside and clambering up the stairs out of sight without a bye nor leave for you. 

“Everything went okay?” Her Mom asks, smiling when you give her your usual answer, all fine. “Will you be okay getting home? I can get her back down if you need a ride.”

“Oh, um,” you check either side of the street, feeling suddenly warmed inside at the sight of Eddie’s van parked at the end of the road. Now that you’re concentrating on it, you’re sure you can hear the music blasting behind glass. “No, it’s okay. That’s my boyfriend.”

“Ah, Eddie.” She smiles, then smacks her teeth as she, too, registers his music. “Maybe tell him to keep it down next time? I don’t mind but I already get monthly phone calls from Mrs O’Hara about the sound of the lawnmower.” 

“Oh, sorry. I’ll do that,” 

“Okay,” she says, calling after you as you start up a fast pace towards Eddie. “You have a good night!”

You pull your cardigan sleeves down over your hands to fight the chill as you move, smiling when you can properly make out Eddie sitting in the front seat. He had a special D&D night planned when he dropped you off at Grace’s earlier. While your costume sat folded in your bag all day, he’d gone to school dressed all in black, even his white Reeboks swapped out for a pair of knockoff doc martens he’d launched himself towards when he caught sight of them at the thrift store. They’d fit him just fine with three pairs of socks.

This morning, sitting in his van, he’d barely managed to control his excited twitches while you lined his eyes with a cheap black pencil from the drugstore. Your work is a little smudged now, but on him, it looks even better than before. Which makes sense, you think. Eddie doesn’t suit neat lines. 

“Hi Princess!” He calls, turning the music down enough that his excitement is just audible through the glass as you approach. 

“Not a Princess,” you remind him as you climb in, turning your back to shake your shoulders and display the blue net wings. “A Fairy God Mother.” You settle back into the seat, shivering away the chill that had gooseflesh rising over your body. Eddie rubs your arm over your cardigan, and you take the opportunity to grab his hand. As much as you want to warm your cold fingers, it’s mainly just to touch him. “How was the game?”

His grin turns sharp as he leans back in his chair, chin tilted up. “So fucking good. I have them right where I want them. I thought for a second Lucas had me worked out. He hesitated when they were getting to the caves, but then he just went along with it. I can’t wait till next week.” He lets go of your hand long enough to start up the van before returning his open palm to the space between you for you to take hold of him again. “How is Princess Grace?”

“Increasingly despotic. She executed like five of her toys before we went out trick or treating.” 

“Jesus,” Eddie laughs. “What for?” 

“Well, her not-so-wise Fairy God Mother,” you start, gesturing to yourself. “Made the mistake of telling her about royal food tasters? Now there’s a poisoning attempt every few days.” 

“Very active imagination, this girl. Violent, but active.”

“Mm, I think most girls play that way. When I was little- Well, me and May, we’d act like witches sometimes? And make potions out of mud and sticks and stuff. And talk about who we would curse.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. “And which poor soul had earned this spite, pray tell?” 

“Did you ever have Mr Gilmour?”

“Oh, Gilmour, yeah, I fuckin' hated that guy!” Eddie yells. His eyebrows furrow. “I threw up during gym in seventh grade and the sadistic prick made me finish running a mile.” 

“Yeah, I forgot about that till now.” His brows stay taught for a second longer, then he shakes his head a little, tapping his fingers along your knuckles. “Too bad I didn’t have you around then, coulda cursed him for me a little earlier.”

“Oh, Eddie, that’s horrible.”

“I would have,” you promise. “But you were telling me about the game. Did you get Dustin with the, um, venom troll?”

“Not yet. We didn’t get as far as I’d have wanted before they had to go. I mean, what fourteen year old has a curfew? I didn’t, and I turned out alright. But I’ll get him next week. I can’t wait to see his face - that little punk thinks he’s so smart, but he is pre-dictable.”

Eddie continues describing the campaign, the traps he’s set for them that he’s sure they’ll run into, the whole drive to his place, excited and animated as he usually is on the rare occasion you get to see him after Hellfire, wound up from the events of the day. He only slows down when you’re settled on his couch. Sneakers left at the door, wings, tiara, and wand abandoned on the kitchen table, wrapped up in his arms as the opening titles of Theatre of Blood play. 

Eddie’s so warm, and unusually still when you sit with him like this. Being cuddled up to him puts you in mind of your aunt’s black cat. She spends the first couple hours of every visit pretending that she isn’t interested in being anywhere near you. Then, after letting her sniff your hand, rubbing gently between her ears, she darts up on your lap, her soft heat spreading through you. 

Eddie might not admit it, at least not verbally, but he likes being petted the same way. You’ve seen his eyes flutter when you play with his hair, heard the gentle sighs he lets out when you touch his cheek. Now, leaning into his chest, rubbing lazily at his torso, you can feel the way his body relaxes into the couch under your touch. It makes you smile at the TV even as Vincent Price swears revenge on all his critics.

You turn your head just a little, trying to be subtle as much as possible so you can look at him properly. Eddie’s eyes, which in sunlight can be bright as copper, are dark and focused in the electric light of the TV. The light freckles that dotted the tops of his cheeks and nose during Summer have faded from the cloudy days and early sunsets, leaving only his soft pale skin. His lips, as always, are soft looking and pink, still shiny from the last time his tongue peeked out, set in a near constant subtle pout. 

You sigh gently, and in turn breathe in the remnants of smoke and laundry detergent from his shirt, the fading spice of his drugstore aftershave.

“You know I picked this movie out special,” he says, only his eyes moving to fix you with a mockingly suspicious expression. “Vincent’s a master.”

You’re surprised to find you’re not ashamed at having been caught. “M’just looking at you.”

“Therein lies the problem, sweet thing. One minute you’re just looking. Next thing I know my head’s trapped between your thighs.” This time he leans in properly. “Wicked temptress.” He whispers it, his breath warming your face. 

You think he’ll kiss you then, but instead he relaxes back into the couch with a sigh. “M’just lucky you weren’t dressed up all day.” His hand tugs at the hem of your skirt, then spreads out just above your knee. “I wouldn’t have been able to think about anything else. It’s a miracle I even got the movie playing instead of trying to touch you.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” you answer, trying not to sound too eager. 

“I bet,” he says, eyes shining. Then his face turns serious, palm coming to his heart. “But Eddie the Chivalrous would never touch a Princess without properly wooing her first.” His eyes scan over your face quickly. “I guess that means we need to finish the movie.”

He’s teasing you. He wants to push, see how much he can get you to say, if you’ll ask him outright to just touch you the way you want. Warring feelings compete to decide what you do next. Maybe months ago, when you first started dating Eddie, you would have pressed your thighs together and settled in to finish the film. A part of you still calls for that, screams that whatever you say won’t be right. 

You stare at Eddie now. His eyes still lined dark, the smirk he’s trying to hide. Your toes curl just looking at him, and the thought escapes naturally. “You don’t look like Eddie the Chivalrous, right now.” 

Eddie blinks slowly. His head tilts. “No? Who do I look like, then?” 

Now, something like shame creeps back in, and you wish you’d just settled down to watch the movie.

You haven’t ever put a name to it before. In your fantasies, the ones that appear unprompted when you’re alone in your bed and you haven’t been able to touch him in a couple days, Eddie’s always Eddie, but sometimes just a little different. 

Maybe Eddie the Chivalrous is the right name for how you first thought about him like that, calling you Princess as usual but meaning it. You thought about him as your knight and guard, sworn to protect you, breaking all the rules by laying you down and treating you gently, better than any lord or Prince you could be promised to.

Then you’d think about his laugh, the one that comes out when you moan a little loud, or lose your patience and try to direct his hands or his tongue to where you need him. The mocking gasp and teasing tone that often comes along with it, you want it bad, huh, Princess? You think about an Eddie who’s like that all the time, teasingly mean with you, dark and dangerous to everyone else, finding you alone in your soft bed, holding your hands above your head and- and-

People already think you’re weird.

You give in to the sudden hot shame, pressing your face to Eddie’s chest lest he read your expression so perfectly that he works it all out. You whisper into his shirt, more to yourself than him. “I’m so weird.” 

“Well, s’a good thing you’re with me then, mm?” He says, big hand moving to stroke the back of your neck. “Cause if you got a fantasy, like, something you think about when I’m not around. You know I won’t judge you for it, right?” 

“I know.” It comes out muffled against his shirt but it’s certain. It’s instinctual, now. You’re as sure that you don’t need to worry about Eddie judging you as you are that the sun will rise tomorrow morning. More and more, you find yourself talking to him the way you talk to yourself in your head. Easy and free, not waiting for the other shoe to drop. But this is different. “It’s just- It’s like-” You sigh, searching for the words that won’t come. 

He hums, still rubbing your neck. “Maybe I could- I mean, do you…wanna hear one ‘a mine?” You emerge from your hiding place, leaning back into his hand to gauge how serious he is. Eddie’s eyes crinkle at the sides at having coaxed you into looking at him again. “Yeah?”  

“Okay.” 

“Okay,” he echoes. Eddie searches his side for the remote first, pausing Vincent in the middle of another monologue. “Okay. Well, yeah, sometimes I think about- Wait no, gotta set the scene. I’ve just played maybe the best show of my life. Nothing too big,” he continues, giving you a serious look. “I’m not a sell out. We’re talking the smaller arenas, you know? Anyway, after, when I get backstage, feeling like hot shit, there’s this girl. Prettiest I’ve ever seen. And she’s wearing the band’s shirt.”

“And she’s a little shy. Can barely look me in the eye-” He catches you just as your gaze moves to his collar, pulling you back to staring, helpless, into his dark eyes. Eddie takes your hand from where it was playing with the hem of his shirt, weaving your fingers together. “She’s kinda fidgety, too.”

You swallow. “Me?”

“You, sweet thing. S’always you.” You bite the gum behind your bottom lip, holding back from grinning too much. You squirm a little under his gaze, waiting for him to speak again. “And you tell me you’ve been waiting for me,” Eddie says, voice smooth and quiet. “You tell me you’re my biggest fan. And you can’t quite say everything you wanna say, but it doesn’t matter, cause I’ve got you worked out. So I get real close,” he says, his face disappearing as his mouth moves towards your ear, “and I ask if you want me to touch you?”

“And I do,” you continue for him, shivering again at the little groan Eddie lets escape from his throat. 

“Mm hm, real bad.” His eyes reappear, scanning over each part of your face. “So bad you wanna earn it. Wanna show me I was right to pick you and not some other girl. You get on your knees for me.” Eddie licks his lips quick. “And I know you’re kinda inexperienced, but it’s good, the best I’ve ever had. You know why?” You shake your head, gaze darting between his eyes and his mouth. You watch his lips move around his words. “Cause you’re so fucking grateful for it.” 

“Mm. And when I decide you’ve earned it, I lay you back on a couch somewhere. A green room or a tour bus or something. And I show you you were right to wait for me.” You shiver. It’s a delicious thrill to picture Eddie that way, completely new to you, a total stranger, yet so sure of what he can take. “And after that?” He says, giving the back of your neck a squeeze. “I keep you.”

“Eddie.” You feel your heartbeat between your legs, wishing he would touch you there now, or even put you on your knees the way he wants so you could show him you’re as grateful for him here and now as you are in his fantasy. 

The fantasy fades when Eddie kisses you. With the press of his lips, the taste of Dr Pepper on his tongue, he’s your Eddie again, familiar and perfect. You’re still floating back to Earth when he pulls away. “Your turn.”

You flinch, crashing to the ground instead. “What?”

“You like Latin, right? It’s quid pro quo, sweetheart. I show you mine, you show me yours. Tit for tat. That was the deal.”

“It was implied.” Eddie answers breezily. Then, with his thumb rubbing gently at the back of your hand. “C’mon. Try? You liked mine, right?” You give a barely noticeable nod, but Eddie catches it. “Yeah. And I bet I’ll like yours.”

“There was no deal!”

“I can’t- I don’t have it all, like, thought out the way you do.”

“Well, I’m a storyteller by trade,” he says, pressing his free hand to his chest. “All my sex fantasies have lore. And we can build on yours, if it needs it.Alright. I’m not Eddie the Chivalrous right now. Who am I?” He tilts his chin to where you have started playing with his rings, twisting each round his fingers in turn. “Apart from Eddie the Stress Toy.”

“It’s not- You’re just-” You swallow, rubbing your thumb over the metal skull sitting where a wedding ring would go. “You’re just somebody…somebody I shouldn’t want.”

“Intriguing. And you are?” Your face flames. You mumble it, barely opening your lips, and Eddie squints. “Mm?”

You sigh. “Princess.”

“Always,” Eddie replies, ducking his head to make sure you see his face, reassuringly still smiling. “Okay. I can work with this. Maybe I'm…Eddie the Banished. I tried to take power for myself by force but I failed.” He brings your hand to his mouth, kisses the thin skin at your wrist. “And I’ve returned, because I realised I don’t need to win a battle. I just have to…take the Princess?”

You clench around nothing. “Yeah.”

“Fuck, yeah. C’mon, sweet thing.” 

Your gaze follows him as he stands. “You want- Right now?”

“Why not? We’re all dressed up. The time is now.” Eddie pauses his excitement when he registers the fact you’re still sitting. “If…if you want.”

“I do,” you breathe. “But I can’t, y’know, talk like you.” You just know Eddie already has some dialogue thought up, things he can say as the character he’s just come up with that will make you dizzy. “I’ll get stuck.”

“Maybe you will, maybe you won’t,” Eddie says, squatting down in front of you, hands spread out on your knees. “I don’t mind taking the lead. Besides, the Princess would be kinda nervous anyway, right? If you’re not supposed to want me. The outlaw, the traitor. You’ve been told about all the terrible things I’ve done, what I tried to do for power. Now you feel guilty about what you really want from me. And I’ve been thinking about you while I’ve been on the run, living rough- You know, this is good stuff,” he says, interrupting himself and looking round. “You got a pen? I should maybe write some of this down- No. After, sorry.” He gives you a sheepish grin, then leans in close. “Don’t think there’s much chance I’ll forget this, anyway.” 

He stands then, hand extended to you with wiggling fingers for you to take and let him guide you through to his room. Eddie hums when his door is closed, shutting out the world beyond the frame. “Shoulda done this at yours,” he says, sitting you down on the mattress. “In your pretty Princess bed.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say breathlessly, meaning it entirely. All that matters is it’s him. He’s the only person you could do something like this with. 

“Okay, I need a little more. You shouldn’t want me, I’m…morally grey, let’s say. Chaotic neutral. Am I mean?”

“Kinda,” you answer. “You’re…selfish?”

“Selfish,” he repeats. 

“Just like, y’know. It’s like-” Eddie’s hands spread at the sides of your thighs, teasing the skin at the hem of your skirt. You want them everywhere. “You know I want you. That I’ll…do things for you. And you take advantage. ”

There’s a pause. “I think I’m following. Things somebody like you shouldn’t do?” You nod quickly, cheeks burning as you watch him work it out. “You wanna get your mouth on me, Princess?”

You fight the instinct to hide, the urge to look away, the voice telling you to deny everything, take it back. Instead, you start playing with the hem of his shirt again, soft cotton between your fingers.  

“Mm hm.”

“Shit. Okay. Anything-” His voice cracks a touch, and he clears his throat before he speaks again. “Anything else?”

“It’s not like- Even though you’re mean, you still- With me, you feel-” Now you do have to look away, staring at where your fingers are fiddling with the black fabric. He can read you too well, and you don’t want him to see exactly what you want from him. “You-”

You love me. 

“I feel…how I feel about you?” He suggests.

You bite the gum behind your lip to stop yourself asking exactly what that means. “Yeah.”

“Okay, good. Hard to pretend anything else.” Eddie leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips, long enough that your whole body relaxes into it, your mind settling on Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. When he pulls away, it’s easy to answer his question. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Eddie stands to full height, his shoulders back. He tilts his head, expression shifting. From your Eddie, with chestnut eyes and his perfect, dimpled smile, to a smirking man with a dark gaze excited to ruin you. 

“I’ve been looking for you, Princess,” he says, voice smooth and confident. A thrilled shiver runs up your spine. “Knew I’d find you eventually, but I could only hope I’d find you like this. All alone.” He takes a step towards you. “Unprotected-”

“Eddie,” you whisper. 

Softness peaks through with raised eyebrows. “Good?” You nod quickly, and it disappears again as he slinks closer towards you. “I missed you, while I was away,” he tells you, soft and teasing. “Did you miss me?”

“I-” You swallow. You’re used to repeating back what Eddie says to you, in times like this, letting him guide you through everything he wants to hear from you. But you don’t want to just watch him do this for you. “No.”

Eddie blinks, surprised, then he puts on a mockingly hurt face, hand over his heart. “No? You wound me, Princess.” That same hand reaches for your face, cupping your cheek. His thumb strokes gently under your eye and you can’t help but lean into him. “Or you would, if I believed you.” He tilts your head up to see him properly, standing over you. “You think I didn’t see the way you’d look at me, before I left?”

Your fingers twitch to reach out and brush at the ends of his hair as it falls towards you, but you keep them at your sides on the bed, curling into the sheets. “You didn’t leave, you-”

“Left, banished, driven out; it all comes to the same end, mm?” His eyes scan your face, down your dress and back up. “That’s you and me, Princess. Here, alone together. You gonna pretend you never wanted that?”

His thumb, callused and warm, keeps rubbing over your cheek. “I can’t want it”

“No, you can,” he presses. Eddie, your Eddie, would sit with you now, squat in front of you to talk to you at the same level. Now, his grip on your jaw tightens just enough to remind you that he could stop you looking away if you tried. “Cause I’ve had time to think about it.”

“While you were hiding in the woods?”

“While I was regrouping,” he corrects. “I realised something. I went about it all wrong.” he tells you. “It was foolish of me to try and use force to get what I want. Not when you were right here. Waiting for me.”

His thumb pulls at your bottom lip, then presses inside to the tip of your tongue. 

“If I make you mine, everything else follows. That’s right, isn’t it?” He nods slowly until you copy him. “The throne, power, vengeance on everyone who tried to hold me back. And you, in my bed every night. All day if I wanted.” He pulls at your lip again as he steals his thumb back, leaning in until his breath is warm against your cheeks. “That sounds nice. Doesn't it, Princess?” You glance at his lips, wanting him to kiss you now, to take it from you. Eddie shakes his head, drawing your gaze back to his. “I wanna hear you say it. You wanted me to touch you, just like this, and more, didn’t you? Wanted me to show you how to make me happy?”

You can feel your heartbeat heavy in your chest, your breath coming quicker. Only Eddie could do this, have you convinced of a story which before tonight only existed half formed in the fantasies of your bedroom. You can feel the internal conflict as if it really is your duty to say no, and your heart’s only desire to give your next answer.

“Yes, Eddie.”

He gives you a kiss that’s half teeth, dragging at your bottom lip. Even this is different. You’re used to the gentle start, feeling him smile on your mouth. He breathes deep through his nose, pulls from you so suddenly that you make to follow him until he presses a hand to your shoulder. 

“And I will. Get on the floor.” Eddie steps back, and it doesn’t even occur to argue with him now. You slide off the mattress easily, knees falling to the carpet without looking away from him. There’s a pause. He speaks quietly, as if he doesn’t want an invisible audience to hear. “You comfy? You want the pillow?” 

“No,” you answer, heart aching. “I’m okay.” 

“Okay.”

You watch the way he steels his face again, looking at you on your knees in front of him like that’s where you’re meant to be. His hands work at his belt, a soft hiss escaping when he presses his palm down the front of his pants. His head tilts back, displaying his thick neck, the rising pinkness across his pale throat, and he breathes a laugh. “Now, Princess- Wait!” You jump at the suddenness of Eddie pulling his hand from his pants only to clasp them at his waist as he half-jogs towards the door. “Just a second. Don’t move!” 

Eddie disappears through the door, mumbling to himself. His words are faint but it’s clear enough that he is looking for something. You close your eyes, focusing on his voice, however fuzzy. You never thought you could have something like this. Someone like Eddie. Someone safe. So safe that you can abandon yourself to fulfilling a silly fantasy thought up under the covers of your bed. 

Something catches your hair and you open your eyes to find him standing over you again. The tip of his tongue curls over his top lip as he places the plastic silver tiara just so on your head. When it’s as he wants it, his teeth show with his smile. “Perfect,” he says, pressing two fingers to your chin and turning your head each way. “My Princess, mm? I’m going to show you what it is to be mine.”

Eddie reaches into his pants to pull himself free. His hand drags over the shaft, quick and dirty, just for a moment’s relief if the clench of his jaw the second he stops is any indicator. 

You think you know what to do now, tipping your chin, opening your mouth, ready to take him. Only he angles his head away from your tongue. You peer up at him in confusion, watch the way his excitement plays out on his face. “C’mere, Princess.” 

Cupping your cheek with his spare hand, he guides you to the base of his cock, where he is softest. Your lips graze the fuzzy skin of his balls and Eddie makes a noise that has you squirming for the lightest touch between your legs. You kiss delicately, blinking up at him, watching his thumb rub over the head of his cock, catching wetness to ease the slow movement of his hand. He taps his fingers on your cheek gently. “Open up. Want your tongue.”

Your toes curl. You want to taste him here, aching at the smell of him; like his neck at the end of the day in Summer, his sweat and musk, fading body wash. You want to make Eddie feel good so badly, you think you might do whatever he asks as long as he looks at you the way he is now. 

You reach for him, palm settling on his knee where denim meets exposed skin. Opening your mouth, you lick quickly at the seam of his balls, taste salt on soft skin. He groans, fingers flexing around your jaw. “That’s it,” he encourages. “Fuck yes,” Eddie bites out when you lick broad and wet up to the base of his cock, thinking of his wide tongue drawing upwards from your pussy to your clit. “Fuck, yes.” 

He draws you back, smiling down at you. It makes your face burn, but you struggle between looking him in the eyes and staring at his cock. His balls are pink and wet from your attention, his hand moves steadily over his length, drawing folds of skin over his thick head and back.

“Want you to suck on them a little,” he tells you. The pause he leaves gives a moment for you to squeeze at his knee, as if presenting your open mouth wouldn’t be enough to show your agreement. He drags the weight of his balls over your chin to your wet tongue, listing off curses when your lips close just enough to suck gently. Eddie’s hand moves faster over his length, the curve of his fingers brushing your forehead with each tug.

Eddie’s groans are all that matter now. His sack is heavy, falling past your lips the wider you open your mouth. “So fuckin’ full cause of you,” Eddie bites. You hum, closing your eyes, his hips stutter. First towards the warmth of your mouth and then away entirely, replacing his sack with the head of his cock tapping against your tongue.

Eddie gasps when you lap at his leaking tip. “Can I-” He pauses, rephrases, puts on the right tone. “I’m gonna fuck your mouth now, Princess.” 

He watches you carefully, gives you time to tell him no. You squeeze his knee once more, gaze moving from his dark eyes to his cock. You press a quick kiss to the swollen head, a darker pink than the rest of him where it peeks through folds of skin, then let him press your head back against the mattress. 

Eddie’s cock glides smoothly over your tongue to the top of your throat. “Fuck,” he breathes, rolling his hips. “M’starting to think this is what you wanted the whole time.” He eases further, just past the entrance of your throat. It’s easier, like this. You are more open to him with your head tilted back this way. He holds himself in the warmth of your mouth, watching you blinking back tears to try and keep him clear in your gaze. Finally your throat protests, and Eddie draws back till you can suck at his head, the exposed length of his cock shining with your spit. You gaze at him, wanting him to be proud of you for taking him deeper than you have before. He makes a soft encouraging noise, but Eddie like this won’t give you the validation you want so easily. “Teased me for so long. I think I deserve to take what I want, now.”

Eddie thrusts slowly at first, easing you in despite his words. The hand that was on your cheek now stroking at your heated forehead. 

You like it like this. 

You liked having him in your mouth the first time, and every time after that. Like watching him shake, hearing him groan and whine, and knowing that you’re the one making him like that. You like focusing on him; lick here, nip there, let him feel you moan around him. Now, you don’t even have to think about how best to please him. You can focus on your breathing, taking air in through your nose when he pulls back enough. And on Eddie and how he looks as he takes his pleasure from you. 

Eddie’s so beautiful. His dark hair frizzes around his face, eyes crinkling at the sides when he closes them and groans into the air. His neck is pink, a pretty blush crawling up to his cheeks as his thrusts speed up. “We’re gonna do this all the time, Princess, you hear me?” He grits, fingers curling into the sheets at the side of your head. You moan in answer, pleased when it makes his cock twitch in your mouth, his tip dipping deep enough past the entrance of your throat that you can’t blink away the wetness that springs to your eyes. “You’re gonna be in my bed all the time, maybe I’ll tie you up, mm?” He presses deep again, then holds steady. When the tears collected at the corners of your eyes start to fall, he wipes them away before they can reach the apples of your cheeks. “Keep you here, just for me. Don’t need to see or talk to anyone else ever again.”

If your head weren’t fuzzy, you’d start questioning why that makes you ache. Eddie withdraws his cock from the top of your throat and you only take a second to gasp in the air you need before following him, reaching up to touch the inches of his cock your mouth still can’t quite cover. Eddie laughs through a moan at the feeling of you jerking his cock into your mouth, licking wet at the end of him. “You want that, huh? Hey-” He drags you away from his cock, leaving you with wet, pleading eyes looking up at him. “You want that?” Your mouth opens, then closes. Your hips roll, seeking friction you can’t get while kneeling like this. Eddie’s eyes flick down, lips turning up at the sight. “Get on the bed for me, mm?”

Eddie reaches a hand out to help you sit up on his mattress. Then he pulls his shirt off over the back of his head, exposing all the soft pale skin and dark ink of his torso. You pull your dress up too, knocking your tiara in the process. When the dress is off entirely, Eddie’s there in an instant to fix it for you, his fingers caressing your cheek when he’s done. “Hey, uh. Am I doing alright? Is this the sort of thing you imagined?”

“This is better,” you tell him earnestly, loving how pleased he looks. You’re learning that this, the pleasure gained from praise, is something you and Eddie share. You love it when Eddie calls you good, or smart, or sweet. When he tells you that you’re good at something he’s teaching you. In turn, Eddie likes it when you tell him how good he makes you feel, that he’s doing everything right, that he’s looking after you exactly how you want it. 

He kisses you, and it’s softer this time until he bites gently at your bottom lip as he’s pulling away. “C’mon and lie down, Princess,” he says, guiding you to lay down. You press your legs together, knees bent and feet flat to the mattress as Eddie climbs up after you. His hands stroke up and down your thighs, making you giggle softly as he passes ticklish spots. It relaxes you enough to let him guide your legs open and back, allowing him closer. Eddie tilts his head, thumbing the little blue bow at the waistband of your panties. “You really want me to tie you up?” 

Without thinking, you glance quickly at the handcuffs hanging from his door. You feel the beat of your heart against your chest, wondering if you’re ready for that, knowing really that you’re not. Eddie’s hand cups your cheek, directing your gaze back to him. He kisses your knee. “Not tonight, Princess.” He leans in, whispers. “And only ever if you really want, okay?”

“I know, Eddie,” you answer. And you do. You know that as much as Eddie is teaching you, seemingly leading you along to each new experience, in truth he’s making sure you set the pace. 

“Take this off for me,” he says, pulling at the strap of your bra. You reach underneath your back to unhook it, shimmying it off your arms and letting it drop to his floor. Once you’re settled, he takes both your hands in his, pulling them up over your head. You can’t help but giggle, feeling both nervous and giddy. “Hold onto the headboard?” You follow the instruction, wrapping your fingers around one of the wooden slats. Stretched like this, chest presented to him, you feel open and exposed, your nipples tightening from the cold air and from Eddie’s attention. “Don’t let go, mm?”

He leans down, kissing from the base of your neck down the skin between your breasts, his hair dragging behind him, tickling the sensitive skin. He leaves a wet mark on the curve of your left breast, the sting of his teeth quickly soothed by his tongue. When he takes the tight bud of your nipple between his lips, your whole body tenses. It’s a test of your submission, if you can last with only your memory of what it feels like to tangle your fingers in his hair. If you can bear not to tug at it when he flicks his tongue like that. 

Your hands tighten around the wood, hips tilting to find his cock where he tucked it back in his boxers, still hard and throbbing between your legs. The friction, however light, against where you have been waiting for him all evening, is too good to give up, and you keep searching for his hardness to rub against. 

Eddie releases your breasts with a grin. “You want it bad, huh, Princess?”

You whine, melting when he presses his hips forward to give you more delicious friction along your pussy. He huffs a laugh, sitting up and quickly reaching out for the pack of Trojans on his bedside. You watch him kneel between your legs, the way he fists his cock while he tears at the foil square with his teeth, his desperation to roll the condom over his length. Eddie shuffles forward on his knees and presses his wide hands to the back of your thighs. He gently guides your legs back, hitching your hips up for better access to your pussy, wet and swollen under his gaze.

“Wanted this for so long, Princess,” he says. “You’ve been waiting too, hmm?”

“Yes, Eddie. Been waiting so long.” You nearly cry from relief when his cock latches at your entrance, then from despair when he stills instead of filling you. The headboard creaks from your squirming. “Please,” you whisper, sounding pathetic in a way that would embarrass you if you weren’t aching from the emptiness.

Eddie stretches you perfectly as he presses inside your slick cunt. The tease of pain feels good now that your body recognises what it means, where Eddie filling you up leads. “Good?” He asks, once he’s deep enough inside that the curls of hair above his cock are teasing your clit. 

You mean to answer properly, but the intention is overtaken by the need for him to move. Waiting for him, your fingers tighten around the wood so much you swear there will be marks from your nails. “Eddie.” It comes out whinier than you intended, but he certainly doesn’t mind. 

“Eddie,” he mimics breathily, his teeth showing as the heat of pleasant humiliation crawls up your spine. He doesn’t keep you waiting any longer, snapping his hips to draw back and press deep again through your clenching cunt.

You’ve been under him every time, but like this you feel helpless. Hands voluntarily useless, body tilted up and legs opened by his hands, your body presented to him and positioned perfectly for him to set the pace. It feels right for this - you know now what the romance novels you hide under your bed mean when the heroine is taken. 

Your toes curl when Eddie’s hips roll just right, the heavy head of his cock hitting the end of you. When he reaches between you to press a thumb to your clit and rub in tight circles, your body tilts, hips trying to chase the pleasure, only for Eddie to press you back down to where he wants you.

“I like it,” you answer. “I like it, Eddie.”

“You like it, like this, hm?” Eddie asks. You blink at him slowly, wondering if it’s your boyfriend or Eddie the Banished asking. “Tell me.”

He shakes his head like he can’t believe it, hair shaking. “Knew you would. Pretty Princess just needed to be fucked right, mm?” You shudder, tightening around his cock enough that he gasps, “fuckfuckfuck. S’good. It’s so good, honey.”

You breathe a laugh. “Princess, to you.”

“My apologies,” he says, snapping his hips to land heavy against the spot at the back of your pussy. You gasp, legs kicking out against his grip involuntarily only for him to tighten his grip and push them back to where he wants them. You can hear how wet you are, the sound of him moving inside you as loud as the bed springs, as loud as your moans. “Mine now, aren’t you, Princess?” 

You nod easily. “Yes.”

“Gonna give me everything I want from now on, aren’t you?” 

“Yes. Yes-”

“Made it so easy for me. Should have just done this in the beginning, just taken you for myself.”

“Yes. Yes, Eddie.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, head tilting back as his hips speed up. “Fuck, I can’t- Can’t get enough of that.” When he looks back to you, the detached, mocking look is gone. He’s all intensity and warmth, your Eddie again. Your whole body tightens. “Tells me everything I need to know when you say my name like that.” He gives you a mean thrust, tongue peeking out as he watches where you’re connected, the slick coating his cock, before his gaze returns to your pleasured, sweaty face. “You’re so fucking good, you know that? So fucking good, the way you talk to me. Telling me what you want. Not gonna hide anything like that from me again, are you?”

“Nuh,” you manage, legs twitching. “Eddie.” 

”Again,” he gasps. “Please. My sweet girl-”

“Eddie. Eddie-”

Maybe you keep chanting his name, maybe you cry it out, maybe you stop altogether to scream out instead. You don’t know. You just know he’s all you’re thinking of as the pleasure crests, spreading out from the back of your cunt through your body until it’s intense enough you think you might cry. Then it fades to the gentle delight of Eddie still moving inside you, the warmth and weight of his cock when he buries himself deep. You hear him groan, feel the potential for bruises blooming where his fingers dig into your thighs. Then it’s his weight easing down on top of you, the ache in your shoulders and your legs as you let them relax before wrapping yourself around him.

You finally get your hands in his hair. The roots are damp from sweat, his curls tangled in knots. Eddie’s face is pressed so fully to the space between your breasts that you’re not convinced he can be breathing. He mumbles something that’s lost to your ears, then tilts his head up till you can see his face, and his goofy smile. Your heart aches even as you giggle. Then he’s crawling up your body to kiss you, his mouth warm and tasting like the sweat from his upper lip. 

“I’m gonna pull out now but I want it known that it’ll take amazing strength of will on my part.” 

He does so, disappearing from the bed for less than five seconds to throw out the condom before flopping next to you again and opening his arms to let you clamber into his hold again, you try to fight the rising worries by pressing your face into his neck. He hisses at the scrape of the plastic tiara under his chin, taking it off himself before returning to stroke at your temple with his fingers.  “How do you feel, sweet girl?”

It takes you a minute to answer, sorting through all the complicated feelings that emerged the second Eddie wasn’t inside you anymore. “Good,” you murmur. Then, “weird.” 

You hate how fast it all happens so soon after something so special. You feel overwhelmed and tired, like you want to scrub yourself raw under hot water, like you want to curl up in Eddie’s arms and smell like him forever. You feel like you don’t want to ever be touched again, but the thought that Eddie won’t makes your heart sore. You wish you were normal. You wish you didn’t have weird fantasies. You wish you didn’t feel guilty about what you want. 

Eddie holds you tight against him, and you let yourself feel the comfort of that. Eddie doesn’t think you’re weird, or gross, or immoral. Eddie won’t ever leave you alone to cry and scratch at your crawling skin. 

He presses his lips to your forehead, mumbles against your skin. “Gonna let me look after you?”

He keeps you with him while he runs a bath. You’re wrapped in a towel while he runs around naked, giving you mock coquettish looks over his shoulder every now and then until he gets a giggle from you. As steam starts to rise from the tub, he searches through the cabinet under the sink before emerging with a bottle filled with suspiciously bright orange liquid. “We don’t have bubble bath but, uh, this is six-in-one.” 

You try sitting in the water together, wrapped up in him, but the pins and needles come too fast, eight limbs not quite fitting as they should. You end up facing him, legs tucked up to your chest, watching the water drip from dark ends of his hair. 

“Not as romantic as I’d hoped,” he says.

“It’s okay. I like looking at you.”

His dimples show. Sweetest boy on Earth. He splashes at you a little, waiting for you to smile before talking. “Feeling better?” 

“Much,” you answer honestly. Somewhere between giggling at Eddie rushing to his bedroom to fetch towels for you both, a hair tie for you, with his hands covering the crack of his ass while leaving his dick uncovered and him quietly insisting on taking the side of the tub with the tap at his back, the grey cloud hanging over you faded. “Cause of you,” you say, splashing him back. 

Eddie smiles, resting his face against his knee. “Is there anything I can do, you know, to make it better, like, before it happens?” He reaches for your hand in the water. “Cause it hasn’t, in a while. I know that this was, like, different, but if I did something-”

“No,” you interrupt. “It wasn’t you.” Eddie lets that sit for a while, waiting for you to continue. “When it’s just me and you, it’s like-” You swallow. “Sometimes I feel like I’m being really, actually myself for the first time in my whole life.” Eddie’s eyes are so soft, looking at you now. “And I know that you won’t ever judge me for…my fantasies, or whatever. But then it’s like, it’s almost like- Like without even wanting to, I imagine what other people would say, if they knew the stuff I told you. If they saw how I am, when it’s just us. And then I just feel like, even though they’re not there, it’s ruined it.”

Eddie squeezes your hand, sighs with his whole body. “That sounds exhausting.”

Tears prick in your eyes even as you laugh without real mirth. “It is.”

“Well, you know this stuff really is always going to be just me and you. Right?” 

“I know, Eddie.”

“I wish I could fix it for you, sweet thing.”

You close your eyes tight, trying to force back the tears. You swallow the lump in your throat, thinking, me too. Instead, you sigh, remind yourself that however hard it is now, you’re sure it used to be worse. Before you had Eddie and his humour, his touch, his kindness. “You make it better, Eddie. I promise.”

He’s perfectly gentle with you the rest of the evening, curling back up with you on the couch when you’re dry to restart Theatre of Blood. You let yourself sink into his chest, playing with his rings. You are just about engrossed in the story again, watching with sick fascination as the first critic is stabbed like Julius Caesar. Then, a thought suddenly occurs.

“Did…did you say the soap was six-in-one?”

“Sure did,” Eddie answers. “Face, body, hair, laundry, pets and dishes.”

“That’s why it smells like the terrier next door.”

Eddie hums, lifts your hand to his face and sniffs. “You mean that’s why we smell like the terrier next door.”

[thelov3lybookworm]

Remember Me? (Part four)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Summary: Under the Mountain, Y/n met the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand. She was scared of him, but soon she found out that he wasn't who he pretended to be. Despite her efforts at not falling in love with him, she fails. It's not that bad as he loves her back.

But now he's gone, and she's left alone with nothing.

Except for a very adorable reminder of him.

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: secret pregnancy, none more that I can think of, so let me know if I need to add anything.

A/n: very small chapter, but I felt like adding more to this part would not be good, so I'll try my best to write the next chapter quickly. Though I will not make any promises as my exams start from Wednesday, and I need to study for them.

•○🌑○•

Y/n glared at the redhead at her doorway.

She wanted to tell him to leave, but she couldn't turn him away now that her son had seen the visitor.

Eris smiled at Fin, stepping closer to the threshold, and Y/n almost slammed the door in his face in a panic that gripped her. Eris's eyes flew to her, and he raised his hands. He gave her a look that said no harm intended.

She hesitantly inched the door open, wondering about what his motives might be in visiting them, especially in the dead of the night. It also didn't help that her son was so eager about a stranger.

She'll have to have a chat with him.

But for now, she let Eris in.

He stepped in, nodding at her before again turning to Fin, grinning.

"It's good seeing you again."

Due to the heavy rain outside, Eris was dripping wet, droplets of water cascading down his body and dropping everywhere from his soaked clothes. And she wouldn't clean it, especially when the person making the mess wasn't welcome.

"I hope you realise you are making a mess. You will be cleaning it."

Eris blinked at her as she shut the door and turned to him, her arms crossed across her chest. "You're talking to me?"

"I don't see anyone else I could be talking to. You are soaked and dripping water everywhere. I will not be cleaning it."

"Oh, alright."

And despite everything, she watched intently as his clothes dried up, his body glowing lightly. Even the small puddle that he had created on the floor hissed and vanished, as if it never existed.

Fin gasped, staring wide eyed at the display of magic. "How did you do that?!"

"It's my magic, young one."

"Really?" Fin stared at the Autumn Court's High Lord in wonder.

"Really." Eris smiled.

"What else can you do?"

"Hmm. I have fire magic, so I can do anything related to it."

Fin giggled, grabbing Eris's hand and tugging him into the living room.

Y/n sighed. She really did need to talk to her son.

She could do that later. At the moment, she decided to follow them. But after she made some tea. It was late, and she could feel a headache coming.

By the time the tea had brewed and she poured it into two cups, Eris had made himself at home on her couch. He was leaning back, nodding along as Fin showed him his toys.

Eris glanced back, realising Y/n was back. He straightened, still nodding along to Fin, but now looking at her.

She set a cup down in front of him, leaning against the doorframe leading towards the staircase that led to their bedroom.

She just watched as Fin and Eris played, Fin mostly running to his toys box, bringing out a new toy, handing it to Eris, and then running back to get something new.

Within a few moments, there was a pile of toys next to Eris on the couch, and never once did he stop paying attention to the little child speaking enthusiastically. He didn't seem to notice anything other than Fin.

Which was cute.

Y/n didn't know where that thought came from, but it did.

•○🌑○•

Y/n sighed. It had almost been an hour since Eris had arrived, and Fin showed no signs of stopping.

Eris had, at some point, begun to make figurines out of his fire magic, making little animals float above his hands before making them run through the air around a giggling and squealing Fin.

By midnight, Y/n's restrain snapped.

"Finnian. Its time for bed. Come on, let's go."

Fin looked up with placating eyes. "Please mama. Just a few more–"

"You better get back to the bedroom young man, before I yell at you. We both know we don't want that." She said, gentle but stern.

His eyes filed with tears and he dropped the toy he was holding in his hand into the box. After that, he simply waddled away.

Y/n watched his every move until he disappeared upstairs, guilt gnawing at her heart. She sighed before turning back to her unwanted guest.

He sat there looking extremely uncomfortable. He sat at attention when her eyes met his, looking ready to bolt.

She walked closer, her arms folded across her chest. He stood up quickly when she entered his personal space.

"Eris." She regarded him coldly. "I don't know what you want with me or my son. I don't know why you are so interested in our lives. But I do know that I will not be tolerating your bullshit until you give me a good reason not to gut you like a fish. You hear me?"

He nodded, opening his mouth. She didn't give him a chance.

"Good. Now get out. And don't show your face until you have a good reason."

She made to turn away, but Eris interrupted her.

"I can't leave. Have you seen the rain outside? I'll catch a cold. And where will I go–"

"There's plenty of places where you can crash for the night. For instance, an Inn in Velaris could surely accommodate you. And as for you being wet, you can perform your little party trick to dry up."

"Come on, it's just for one night! I'll leave in the morning. Please, he would want me to stay."

Y/n sighed deeply. "Eris. Get. Out. If you are so desperate to spend time with my son, then you can come back later. For now, I not letting a practical stranger live under the same roof as my son."

The two of them had a staring competition for a few moments before he caved.

"Fine." He turned away, walking out of the door. She slammed it shut the moment he stepped fully over the threshold.

She leaned back against the door, staring up at the ceiling. Tears of frustration pricked at her eyes.

Why was it always her?

It wasn't fair, her life being filled with hardships.

First she got pregnant with the child of a male she thought loved her, then she had to run away from home when she found out she was with child. She had to live in a cottage all alone, never stepping outside for fear that her father would be waiting to capture her. She raised her son all by herself, knowing nothing about how to care for a baby.

And now, she had run into the father of her child, who wanted nothing to do with her, had no hand in raising the child, but still thought he was entitled to him.

And a practical stranger was so invested in her and her son's life that he was showing up to their door in the middle of the night.

Life was just great.

She let out a frustrated breath before retreating to her bedroom, where she found Fin lying down, facing away from the door. If she hadn't been paying attention, she would have thought that he was asleep.

But he wasn't. She could hear faint sniffling sounds coming from him, and her heart broke in her chest.

She hadn't yelled at him by any means, but she knew she still hurt his feelings.

She slowly tiptoed behind him, lying down and then snaking an arm around his small frame.

"Hey." She whispered. He stayed quiet.

When she tried to tug him back towards her so she could hug him, he wiggled away angrily. "I'm sorry. Could you consider forgiving me?"

He shook his head, his sniffles increasing.

"Please tell me why you are angry my love."

She tried to tug him back again. This time he let her.

He was quiet for a few moment as she combed her fingers through his hair. "You didn't let me play with him. You almost yelled at me."

"I'm sorry for that." And she was sorry. Because she knew it wasn't his fault she was insecure and scared of trusting others. "Really. Please forgive me?"

He turned to look at her, his face red and wet, tears lining his eyes and lashes. "I wanted to play with him mommy."

"You can play with him some other time. It was getting late and you could have gotten sick if you stayed up long. I'm still sorry for almost yelling."

He nodded, scrunching his tiny little face. "Okay. I forgive you."

She held back a grin, feeling bad for wanting to laugh at his despair. No one should blame her though, kids were just funny like that.

"Thank you very much."

"Where is he now?"

"He left. He is staying somewhere else."

"Why? He could have stayed here with us."

"Baby, do you remember what I told ypu about strangers?" When he nodded, she continued. "He is a stranger to you, is he not?"

Fin stayed quiet.

"You should not trust strangers so much."

"But you know him mama. He is not a stranger if you know him right?"

He got her there.

"Yes darling, but I don't know him well. I'm not saying you should not play with him. I'm just saying you should be careful around other strangers. And I am also trying to understand why you like him so much."

He played with his fingers for a couple of moments before answering.

"Because I don't have anyone to play with."

She stilled, then whispered. "What?"

He nodded, not meeting her eyes.

"I don't have any friends, other than Sam and Nyx. And I don't even play with them that much. I feel very lonely mama."

Her heart cracked for what felt like the hundredth time that night.

She realised that in her need to protect her baby from the evil of this world, she had kept him from the happiness and joy too.

And that would simply not do.

"You have me to play with." She pointed out weakly.

"But you have been very busy and you seem very stressed all the time. I didn't want to disturb you."

She beat back the tears that threatened to clog her throat. "I will never be too busy to play with you. And you don't have to worry about disturbing me. Ever." Then, she added. "If it helps, Eris is going to come by tomorrow. I told him he can come to play with you."

She didn't know if that would happen, considering the verbal lashing that she gave him before kicking him out. Though she did hope he came by, because nothing was more important to her than Fin's happiness. And as for his safety, she was there to protect him.

He instantly brightened. "Really?"

Smiling, she nodded. He squealed before burying himself in the pillows, smiling at her.

She just hoped Eris would not leave Velaris without meeting Fin.

•○🌑○•

Part 5

Taglist: @awoa1 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @luvmoo @we-were-beautiful @eerievixen @zoe2 @fussel9913 @j-pendragonx @thesnugglingduck @jesssicapaniagua @devilsnightz @esposadomd @littleffawn @mandowhatnow @bubybubsters @eos-princess @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @nightless @princesslolaasworld @asemkta @cat-or-kitten @txzii @bunnyredgirl @theofficialmadman @leeknows-wife @aria-chikage @amygdtjhddzvb @azriels-mate123 @inky-clover @kemillyfreitas @cult-of-enji-todoroki @moonlwghts @laurenzitaa @wallacewillow0773638 @12358

[joelsgoldrush]

MASTERLIST

here, you'll find all of my works. as always, don't forget to check the warnings on each post. thank you for taking the time to read them :)

© joelsgoldrush. don’t copy, translate, or use my works in any form with AI, ChatGPT or any other automated tools. i only share my stories here, so if you see them posted elsewhere, i’d appreciate it if you let me know.

logan howlett:

one shots

➥ give me all of that ultraviolence | logan howlett x f!reader | 2k

you give logan head for the first time.

➥ never is a promise | old man!logan x f!reader | 12.4k

you are everything logan isn’t: sweet, trouble-free, much younger—and, to top it off, charles' caregiver.

➥ epiphany | worst!logan howlett x f!reader | 21k

superheroes and mutants weren’t enough. no—the universe had to throw in soulmates who share scars. fantastic, right? except yours had vanished, only to mysteriously reappear with the arrival of a new face: the “worst” logan howlett, fresh from another earth.

OR what happens when a hopeless romantic crosses paths with the ultimate soulmate skeptic?

➥ blessed are the forgetful | logan howlett x f!reader | 12.4k

to love is to cherish, to endure, to fight. but to love is also to forget—at least, for you and logan. despite countless attempts to erase the part of yourselves that yearns to find completion in each other, you always end up back where it all began: the moment your eyes first met his—the moment everything changed.

series

➠ you can use my skin to bury secrets in | old man!logan x f!reader | 6.8k

saliva floods his mouth as you rise to your feet, looking down at him from above. gracefully angelic, and yet— “i know what i’m asking for,” you continue, your voice descending to a low murmur that scratches pleasantly against some dark and remote corner of his brain. then you lower yourself onto his lap, your thighs bracketing his waist. you repeat your question: “can i help you?”

OR logan had always known your generosity would get him in trouble.

➠ crawl home to her | old man!logan x f!reader | 7.5k

will he be able to control himself once he's near you? in this moment, he feels more animal than human. creeping, on the verge of crawling, back to you.

OR like a sinner seeking absolution, he finds his way back to you after every absence, as if you're the only salvation he's ever known.

➠ guilty pleasure | worst!logan howlett x f!reader | 8.6k

after saving earth-10005 from impending disaster, wade convinces logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. he’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.

➠ give me the first taste | worst!logan howlett x f!reader | 10k

from the moment you first laid eyes on logan, you knew he was a tough nut to crack. but if there’s one thing you love, it’s a challenge. as your relationship grows, you’re determined to show him that, in this universe, he can also be loved.

joel miller:

one shots

➥ swore i heard you whisper that you preferred us like that | joel miller x f!reader | 5.8k

you ask joel –the quiet, distant joel– to teach you how to ride a horse. they say the eyes are the window to the soul, and it must be true, because when he really sees you, it´s like he finally understands what you feel for him.

➥ lovers once a year | dbf!joel miller x f!reader | 9.4k

one always craves what is out of reach. like the forbidden fruit that lingers just beyond grasp, tempting with its sweetness. joel became the town’s greatest sinner, and you, his best friend’s daughter, are the tantalizing temptation he knows he should never indulge in. your very existence marks the path to his ruin. he can't help but follow it.

series

➠ come back same time and place the next night | dad’s coworker!joel miller x f!reader | ongoing

your chances of hooking up with your dad’s soon-to-be coworker are low, but never zero. turns out the two of you have a lot more in common than you thought, especially when you find out he’s going to be staying at your house for a while. you know what they say: if you can’t beat them, fuck them.

dividers by: @cafekitsune thank you!!! <3

[stanfordswifey]

"Sharing? Oh please."

Part 3. <- You are here

Part 2.

Part 1.

You had just gotten into a short coma, no one knew when you would wake up, hell- no one even knew if you would live.. but two soldiers waited patiently. Giving you gifts daily, visiting you daily and even sleeping in your hospital room, ghost and könig had made a truce and decided to pay off your hospital bills together.

Ghost was your childhood friend, someone you could trust, someone who cares for you, who would do ANYTHING for you. König is your ex boyfriend, you chose him because you really liked his accent, his cute homemade gifts for you, everything he did, he did for you, for your wellbeing, for your good. But he messed up, he messed up bad when you caught him cheating, sure it might have only been a one time thing but it still hurt didn't it? And the fact he was sober too.. all while you were pregnant. But now thats not a worry..

A year had passed by, the doctors had to take away your now dead baby from your stomach, she didn't survive the crash. König felt guilty, he thought it was his fault. But it is his fault.. if only he hadn't been cheating-- your thoughts pause, you felt your body getting warmer, you finally regained consciousness again.

--

You wake up, fluttering your heavy eyelids open to see simon on the couch beside you, he looked peaceful. You couldn't help but smile.

"si..?"

You mumble, your mouth was dry and your voice was barely comprehensable but he heard and immediately got up.

"Love?"

His eyes widen at the sight of you smiling, his heart feeling warmth after so long. He rushed over and pulled you in for a hug, tears in his eyes threatening to fall.

"You're awake! Oh my god.. i missed you so much"

You chuckle, hugging him back, ignoring the pain everywhere in your body. You smile at him, pulling away from said hug.

"where's.. where's könig?"

You ask, hope in your voice vanishing when ghost opened his mouth. He felt his heart clench, his tears falling down. Even after all of that.. you're still looking for him..?

"he's busy, but i'm here.. please! I can treat you better"

You cant help but chuckle at him awkwardly, tilting your head in confusion.

"You like me? I thought you only ever saw me as a friend"

His heart throbbed at those words. 'Friend' friend?! Would a friend wait for years just to be with you?

He hugged you again, tears falling. You hug him back, knowing it's not often he'd be willing to hug someone.

"Please.. give me a chance love, i can treat you better! You deserve better"

Ghost begs, pulling away from the hug and kneeling down, looking up wt you with pleading eyes, this gets you off guard and you look dumbfounded at the sight. The door opens to reveal a chuckling könig at the other side.

"Ghost? I thought you were better than that"

He chuckled, ghost getting up and rolling his eyes, standing in front of your bed in a defensive stance, clearly irritated.

"Look who's talking."

He barked, könig getting hurt but doesnt show ot, he walks over to you and places his hand on your cheek, caressing your face gently, he smiled at you so lovingly before placing a kiss on your forehead, the feeling of his masked lips giving you butterflies.

"König.. i told you we were over didnt i?"

You hiss, pushing him away. Ghost smirks, finding the whole situation amusing. König lets go of you, sitting down and sighing, trying to keep his emotions in check as to not cry.

"You heard what the lady said"

"Shatz, please.. i'll do better this ti-"

"Shut up. You cheated on me."

"4 years of dating and you still cheated? Shame on you könig"

König scoffs, turning to ghost and glaring at him angrily.

"I, however, could treat her better."

He whispers, playing with your hair gently, his gloved hands feeling soft and comforting, you felt butterflies and you blush.

"As if. You don't deserve her."

Konig says in a rude tone, holding your hand lovingly. The two men making you a blushing mess and you're screaming in your head.

"guys please- i'm tire-"

"Do you want a snack?"

"I can order you McDonald's if you want"

"I'll buy you anything you want, sweetheart"

"I can go get some water for you"

They cut eachother off, competing for your love. You cant help but blush, turning away and regaining your cool before responding.

"Water and food sounds great"

They give you a smile, both of them walking away to get what you need.

--

The moment they got outside of the room, könig turns to ghost.

"I think she still likes me"

"She blushed at me earlier"

They turn towards eachother

"..you saw her blush at us earlier right?"

"Let's keep this up for a bit, i think she's into us both"

Simon turns to könig with an irritated expression, crossing his arms.

"I'm not sharing."

"Well, neither am i"

"Guess she's going to have to pick then."

--

YEAHHH PART 4 IS OTW YALL <3

there might be smut in the next part..

[shovelbug]

I see your requests are open !!

Could you do an Amethio x Admin! Reader ,?

Like the reader is also part of the Explorers and is another admin, (I'm sure yk what I ment, but just wanted to clarify that,)

a/n: here you go! gonna combine these two reqs.

-

You've been an admin under Gibeon alongside Amethio for a while now.

While you know the morality of your job is… questionable, at best, you really felt that you had no other choice.

Your family had a habit of not being communicative. They weren't bad people, but they had a very hands-off approach.

Realizing this at a young age, you kinda… vanished without a trace.

Which you know is also bad and hypocritical! But, knowing how your family operates, it was the only way you could think to protect your little sister.

You still kept an eye on her from a distance where you could, wanting her to find her own independence while staying safe.

You knew that the pendant your grandmother had entrusted her with held some greater secret, and secrets like that tended to attract the wrong type of attention.

You hoped that in joining the Explorers, you could take over the pendant mission yourself, to preserve your baby sister's safety.

At least she had that Nyahoja of hers. It was a fickle little thing, but it cared about her, which eased your mind a little.

And for a while, it did seem like you were going to get the mission. You worked hard and were a strong trainer, and you being the one to approach her would make her much more likely to trust her and give it to you.

That's how you presented it to Gibeon, anyways.

It hurt your heart to do this to your sibling who you adored, especially after up and leaving seemingly out of nowhere. But it was better than the alternative.

And then Amethio got the mission.

Internally, you were freaking out. You had half the mind to bust into wherever in the world Gibeon was and give him a piece of your mind.

That would undo all your hard work up to this point, though, so you refrain.

Luckily enough for you though, your relationship with Amethio is much more amicable than that of the other Admins.

You were similar in age, and you never took unnecessary shots at him when the other Explorers were dog piling on him, even defending him at some points.

You were no saint, but you weren't a monster.

You had trained with him too, and that time together translated into you being a strong and efficient team, so you got assigned on missions together often. That strengthened your bond further.

Eventually, you pretty bluntly asked him out once you realized your feelings, never one to beat around the bush.

He accepted, which surprised both of you a little.

Your relationship is very much so on the down-low, though. You have no doubt that if word got out in the explorers it would be used against you.

Except for Zir and Conia. They both know, but only because you trust them to keep a secret.

It's an unconventional relationship, and you two take it slow and steady. You both are happy, though, so that's what matters.

You're more level-headed and tend to get straight to the point, so when Amethio tries to bottle things up or gets caught up in his mistakes you shut that down fast.

In turn, he'll often lend a listening ear to your troubles and go out of his way to do things for you (missions you don't like, grabbing some snack you mentioned craving, etc.)

Sometimes he's not the best with words or being affectionate, so he shows his care through actions most of all.

Back to the point, you're understandably distraught when Amethio gets the pendant mission instead of you. You're pacing around your quarters after the meeting when Amethio stops by.

He holds you close as you cling onto him, unsure what to say. He wishes he could fix this for you.

You can't be upset at him, not really. He's just as stuck in this position as you are.

Eventually, you pull away from him, rubbing at your face.

“Don't hurt her. Please.“

“I will make sure she is unharmed, I promise. You have my word.”

You nod, satisfied. You trust Amethio. He and his grunts seem to be the only other half decent people here.

Neither of you can begin to expect how things will unfold, but Liko does put up more of a fight than either of you expect, and Amethio returns to HQ empty-handed.

A part of you can't help feel a little (a lot) proud of how much your little sister has grown.

You review the footage of Liko's Nyahoja and her (frankly scarily) powerful Leafage.

Turning to your partner Pokemon, you hum, amused.

“This will be interesting, don't you think, Meowscarada?”

Your Magician Pokemon purrs in agreement.

[jennay]

Haunted Memories

Request: The reader has been tagging along with the guys while they are on tour. She is in a relationship with Noah. They are back in their hometown and the reader is walking through the venue when she is stopped by her ex, which she had an abusive past with. She immediately gets shaken up by seeing him. Instead of hanging out on the side stage to watch the guys like she normally does, the reader heads back to the bus. Noah notices that she isn't around before and when they are on stage, so he starts to wonder where the reader is. After the show is over, he finds out from someone backstage that she had went back to the bus before the show even started. When he gets on the bus, he finds the reader distraught and extremely upset. Maybe something along those lines.

Warnings: talks of physical abuse lots of angst but ends in fluffy goodness

Word Count: 2100

Noah Master List

You couldn't believe it. Of all the places in the world, the final show of the tour had to be in your home town. Noah had warned you about this, but you didn't think it would affect you so much.

You found yourself wandering around the venue, feeling like a ghost, while Bad Omens rocked the stage. This place was haunted by your past. You had so many memories here, some that made you smile and some that made you shiver.

You remembered the day Noah left Virginia, the day your best friend ripped your heart out. You sobbed when he hugged you goodbye, but you also cheered him on.

You wanted him to follow his dreams, even if it meant leaving you behind. You wanted to go with him, but you had things to finish in Richmond, things that couldn't wait.

You sighed as you walked to the merch section, looking for comfort in the colorful shirts. Buying new shirts from all the tours was your guilty pleasure. You told Noah once that you would make a quilt out of them someday, a quilt that would keep you warm and remind you of him when you couldn't tour with the band.

"Y/n?"

You spin around and freeze. There he is, the monster who ruined your life, the one you thought was locked up for good. Your heart sinks to your stomach, and you feel sick as your memories flood. How could this happen? Why did you have to bump into him here, of all places?

Why couldn't Noah be by your side to protect you from him? Your hands tremble as you back away, wishing you could vanish.

You try to speak, but your throat is dry, and your voice is gone.

He moves closer to you, a wicked grin on his face. He pretends he didn't do anything wrong, he didn't send you to the hospital with broken bones and bruises, and he didn't make you fear every man who looked at you.

"It's so nice to see you I-, I went by your parent's house last year. I wanted to apologize for, you know, things that happened in the past." He bites his lip. You can tell he's nervous, but you don't know if the regret in his voice is being faked or not, "I've changed a lot." He tells you.

You shake your head in disbelief, "Fuck you!" You roughly say. "You don't get to walk back into my life and say shit to me." You turn to walk away, feeling your adrenaline rush. Who did he think he was? Did he really think an apology would make you swoon and forgive him?

You feel a hand grab your wrist, and he pulls you back to him. You feel like you did all those years ago, "I've changed. I'm sorry for what I did. I went through therapy, and they said the best thing I could do was ask for forgiveness. It's part of the program I'm in. I'm not heavy in addiction anymore. I don't even know that person, and I'm so ashamed! Please just listen to me. Please, I'm sorry."

You feel your body tremble as you pull your wrist out of his grasp, "You knew I'd be here, didn't you?" You look down at his hand that’s reaching for you again. You quickly swat it away, "Don't fucking touch me. If my boyfriend sees you, of all people even near me, you will end up in the hospital."

He nods knowingly. "I know you're dating Noah now. I'm not here to step on your toes. I just need you to forgive me." He desperately says like this was the last thing on his list before he could move on.

You snap your head back, shocked by his words, baffled by how he could ever expect you to forgive him. “You don’t deserve a fucking thing from me.” You hissed. “I hate you. You shattered me beyond repair. You twisted me, and I could never heal from what you did. You wrecked all my chances of happiness, you ruined what I could’ve been for Noah, and you dare to ask for my forgiveness?” You snarl through gritted teeth. “You think you’re worthy of that?” You pause, feeling your jaw clench. “I hope you die with the guilt of what you did. I hope it torments you every time you touch another woman.” Your eyes fill with tears, “But most of all, I hope everyone you love abandons you.”

You see his eyes turn black, and before you can react, his hand is flying towards your face, just like old times. You shut your eyes, bracing for the pain, but relax when you hear a familiar voice, "Whoa there, buddy. What the fuck is it that you think you're doing?" You hear Steven's voice ring in your ears, and you open your eyes to see that Steven has David's arm in his hand over your head. He roughly throws it aside and quickly pushes you behind him. "I don't know who the fuck you are...but I suggest you get the fuck out of here before I cause a scene."

Steven wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as he walks away from David. He looks down at you feeling your body slightly shaking still, "I'm not going to ask if you're OK because obviously, you're not, but who the fuck was that and do we need security to follow you around from now on?"

You shake your head no, your eyes landing on the ground as you walk, "He'd nobody, and I don't want to talk about it."

Steven nods understandingly, "Let me walk you back to the bus. I'll know you're safe there, and I'll let Noah know where you are, okay?"

"I don't really want Noah to know about this." You say sheepishly.

Steven bites his lip, knowing he's about to say something you won't like, "You know I can't do that."

You take a deep breath, "I know."

After the show, Steven immediately finds Noah to talk to him about what he witnessed.

Noah clenches his fists as Steven tells him what he saw. “I don’t know who the bastard was, she wouldn’t tell me. She shut me out, and I didn’t want to push her.”

He wishes he could have been there instead of Steven, but he’s grateful to him for stepping in and stopping the assault before it happened. He knows if he had been there and seen a man try to hurt you, he’d lose it. He’d end up in jail, but he wouldn’t regret it. He’d smile in his mug shot, knowing he did the right thing. Whether you were his girlfriend or not, you would always be safe with him.

Before Noah opens the bus door, he takes a deep breath. He asked the others to leave you alone for a while before they came to check on you. He wanted to make sure you were okay, or at least not falling apart.

He knew you hated showing your vulnerability in front of anyone. Even with him, you tried to act strong and hide your pain. He opens the door, scanning the bus for you. He doesn’t see you anywhere until he hears a faint whimper from the bunk area. His heart breaks at the sound of your cry.

Noah walks softly toward the noise, stopping in the middle of the hallway. He sees you lying in his bunk, staring blankly at the ceiling. He notices the tear stains on your cheeks and the redness in your eyes.

You don’t look at him as he kneels by the side. He gently reaches for your hand, making you flinch out of your daze. Noah wants to kill the man who did this to you. He wants to smash things and yell at the world. He wants to make the pain go away. You didn’t deserve this. How could anyone be so cruel to you?

"Baby," he coos while brushing your hair out of your face, "What can I do to help?"

You tilt your head finally looking him in the eyes. You wipe your burning cheeks and turn on your side, patting the spot next to you.

He nods and slides into the bunk beside you, wrapping his arms around you as you snuggle close. He tenderly strokes your hair as you cry into his chest, letting out all the emotions that have been bottled up inside you. He holds you firmly, making you feel safe and loved in his embrace.

“I don’t want to feel this way.” You say in a shaky voice. “It’s like every time I think I’m healing, something triggers me, and I feel worthless and broken. The voice in the back of my head…” You pause, gasping for air, “It keeps telling me I’m not good enough, and I want to be good enough for you, but I’m so damaged, and I know you’ll leave me too because I don’t deserve you.”

Noah’s face twists with confusion and pain, wondering how you could ever doubt yourself so much. “Y/n…” He says softly, pulling away from you slightly, lifting your chin, and making you look into his eyes, “I will never leave you.” He kisses your nose and smiles gently, “If you ever want to break up with me, that’s your decision, but I’ll do everything in my power to keep you. I was serious when I said I was going to marry you someday. I know you might have thought it was a joke, I mean we were only fourteen, but I meant it with all my heart.” He says, pulling you back to his chest. “Was it David?”

He feels you nod your head against his chest. “Yeah.” You whisper, barely audible.

Noah feels his blood boil, he’d heard rumors from your friends about what he did to you, and he remembered the hospital visits, the bruises and the scars. You didn’t tell him the truth back then, but you opened up to him before you became official, just in case he changed his mind.

He kisses your forehead and whispers, “ I’m sorry he hurt you. I’m so sorry he made you feel this way. But you’re not alone. I’m here for you, always. I love you more than you can imagine. You’re beautiful, you’re strong, you’re amazing. And I’m not going anywhere, I promise. You’re stuck with me.”

You feel his words warm your heart, and you wrap your arms around him, holding him tight. You feel a flicker of hope, a spark of happiness. You smile and say, “I love you. Thank you for being here and being you. I’m not going anywhere either, I promise. You’re stuck with me, too.”

He laughs and hugs you closer, feeling a wave of relief and joy. “Sounds perfect to me. We’re going to be OK, you know that, right? We’re going to get through this together. We’re going to have a happy ending.”

You nod and kiss his chest, feeling loved. “I believe you. We’re going to be OK. We’re going to have a happy ending.” You repeat.

He nods and kisses your hair, feeling love and hope. I love you, Y/n."

“I love you, Noah. I love you more than words can say.” You cuddle up to him, feeling his heartbeat, warmth, and love. You close your eyes, feeling worn out from all the emotions of the day, and drift off to sleep, feeling safe and happy in his arms.

You dream of a better future with him, where you’re both happy and free—a future with only happy endings.

Tags: @thisbicc @yumikitten @lma1986 @chemicallady

[desmon1995]

The Warriors and their Odyssey of misogyny

I can’t stop thinking about how The Warriors is more relevant now than ever, especially in the wake of the 2024 election. This isn’t just a story about gang conflicts and survival—it's a brutally honest reflection of the world that marginalized people have to navigate every day. At its core, it’s about fighting through a sea of misogyny and toxic masculinity to survive in a system that’s dead set on crushing those who don’t fit its narrative.

Let’s start with Luther. He’s a white incel in every sense—angry, destructive, and, above all, ready to deflect blame the moment he’s caught in his own violence. After killing a black female activist, he immediately accuses the Warriors. Cleon, a character who knows what it means to fight for your community, begs for reason, for justice. But it’s hopeless—Luther’s lie spreads through his gang the Rouges, and every gang believes him. They want to believe the white man’s narrative. This is how the Warriors become outcasts, hunted by everyone.

What’s chilling, though, is how The Warriors dives deep into the nuances of toxic masculinity, showing it in forms we recognize all too well.

First, we have the Turnbull ACs—the poster boys of hyper-masculine violence. They’re the first to pursue the Warriors, and they’re more than willing to turn their hunt into something brutal. The ACs don't just want revenge; they want to dominate, to assert their power over the Warriors in every violent way possible. All in the name of Cyrus, no less—a symbol of a leader they’ll never understand. And they’re acting this way because of a lie, blindly following a dangerous white man’s narrative without question. It’s the rawest depiction of machismo and rage—almost an anthem of how Men of Color end up perpetuating harmful Eurocentric viewpoints just be a part of a society that hates them too.

Then come the Orphans. The Orphans are all talk, acting like the typical online "alpha males" we see on Reddit or Twitter. They talk big about their strength and what they’d do to women, but they’re nothing but insecure. The moment a more feminine-presenting Warrior flirts with them, they back down, only to puff up again when Mercy questions their manhood. It’s pathetic, really, but also painfully real. As soon as the Warriors fight back, the Orphans crumble, showing us exactly how performative their masculinity truly is.

Then there’s the Hurricanes—the only group to stand with the Warriors. They’re queer, and they know what it’s like to be outcast, to run because society sees you as something to be destroyed. The Hurricanes offer a quiet, resilient kind of mentorship, showing the Warriors that they don’t have to run—that they can fight. The solidarity here is beautiful, and historically resonant. Queer rights and women’s rights are so deeply intertwined because they’ve both faced the brutal crush of patriarchy, especially from those determined to keep the world “pure” and “safe” for white, conservative ideals. The Hurricanes help the Warriors see their own power, and it’s their influence that eventually allows them to survive.

But the most frightening group? The Bizzies. They’re the “nice guys,” the false allies who sing about being there to help. In their song “We Got You,” they say everything marginalized people want to hear. They’re supportive, kind, and reassuring—until they get you in a dark place, where your screams can’t be heard. Cowgirl lets her guard down with them, only to find out that their support was a façade. The Bizzies are insidious because this happens all the time in real life. Fake allies talk about helping marginalized people but vanish or even turn hostile the moment things get difficult. In 2024, we’re reminded every day that this kind of allyship is hollow.

A recent Vulture review questioned why most of the male characters in The Warriors are “bad” and argued that this one-sided view “limits” the story. But here’s the thing: this isn’t one-sided for those of us who are marginalized. For women, queer folks, and people of color, this is our reality. The Warriors reveals what’s true for many of us: that we have to rely on each other, and that the fight for our own freedom is in our hands because no one else will fight it for us without diluting or dismissing it.

In a way, The Warriors is the sequel to Hamilton we need in 2024. It’s a call to action, a piece that understands what it means to exist on the fringes of a world that was never designed for you. For those who think this story isn’t “realistic,” I urge you to think about what it means to live without the privilege of being heard, of being believed. This is the life marginalized communities face every day—the struggle of knowing that no matter how loud we shout, society might never listen.

We’re the ones who have to make our voices heard. And The Warriors reminds us that we’re not alone in this fight.

[short-black-diamond]

hi!! please could you do a scenario where the blue lock characters watch their s/o get hit on (incl kaiser and sae if possible!!) thank you 💙

yessss oh my got I've been waiting for such a request!!!

also if you want me to write with more characters, list them up, okay? I don't know who else you'd like to do, so I just wrote about Kaiser and Sae. Also please put in the gender as well, this one is with a gender-neutral reader.

Warnings: Ness gets roasted by you.

---

"You belong to me."

part two

Kaiser:

it happened in germany, where you and him were over at a friends house, where a party took place. Kaiser was having the time of his life, proudly showing you off, with his hand on your waist as you guys chatted away.

Some time later, you had to use the bathroom, and you excused yourself. After you were done and about to go back to your boyfriend, another guy cut you off on your way.

You looked at him with a smile. "Could you please step to the side?", you asked in a friendly tone, but the guy only smiled back. "Say...are you single? You're really cute.", he said softly.

You frowned. You were sure he was one of the guys who sat closest to Kaiser and you when Kaiser announced that you two were a happy couple.

"No, I am taken. Please let me go now.", you speak in a more firm voice, the guy however only puts on a sweet pout. "Not even a chance?"

"You couldn't even buy her a drink, let alone catch her attention,", Kaiser's voice says and you light up when you see Kaiser behind the boy.

The guy in front of you sighs before winking at you charmingly and turning around, bumping shoulders with Kaiser.

Kaiser glared at him. "Hurensohn.", the german growled and the guy only "tch"ed. Seems like the guy was a german as well...

You looked at Kaiser gratefully as he held your hands and kissed them. "He didn't touch you, did he?", Kaiser mumbled as he looked at you through a sad frown. He was disappointed in himself.

angry at himself for not sensing something sooner and thus not being able to having saved you sooner.

But, it all vanishes when you giggle. "No, he only leaned against the wall weirdly. And what does "Hurensohn" mean?"

Kaiser's face turned blank for a moment before he smiled at you. "It means nothing, really. It's like...a uh...yes, a cheer up thing! Like, he failed to court you, and germans say "Hurensohn" to each other to cheer each other up!"

...

Ness messed up a goal in practise and you and Kaiser where there too. You were the only Non-German in practise, and when you saw Ness shoot the metal instead of the net, you 'cheered him up.'

"Hurensohn!", you yelled.

Ness looked at you with a disturbed face, feeling utterly insulted. Kaiser quickly turned around and tried not to laugh out loud. Ness looked at Kaiser then in suspicion.

The other players only looked at you with a frown.

You were confused.

You actually called Ness son of a bitch. but nobody told you after Kaiser explained what happened.

Now, Ness became a "Hurensohn".

Sae:

You and Sae were actually just taking a walk after he used you as a therapist again, and you did your best to comfort him. He told you about what happened in spain, how he felt bad for being so mean and rude to his younger brother and how he wished to play with Rin again.

Now, you two were holding hands. You two came to a small resting place. It was selling donuts. Sae looked at you with a small smile.

"Wait here.", he instructed you before jogging into the entrance. You looked around and enjoyed the fresh air.

Suddenly, a quiet voice took your attention. You turned to the side to a shy looking boy. "Uh...hi. I-I think you're very pretty...and um..", the guy started but you shook your head.

"I'm taken sir.", you said. But the guy didn't want to give up yet. "I-I know that I might not look like much, b-but I promise I'll be a great boyfriend and-"

"are you a geat footballer who plays soccer and represents a country?", Sae's gruff voice asked and thy guy flinched. He wuickly turned around and locked eyes with Sae's angry turpuoise ones.

"Fuck off.", cue the stranger quickly excusing himself with a red face.

Sae glared at the guy until he was gone, and then he looked at you with a sad face. "I'm sorry, it was stupid of me to tell you to wait outside...", he apologized as he looked at your pretty face.

You shook your head again. "No, don't be, Sae. Nobody could've predicted this, and no harm done, right?", you asked as you hugged his arm. He smiled at you.

"Yeah. no harm done."

---

Damn this turned super fluffy in my opinion. also I feel sorry for ness but I just had it in mind and couldn't ignore it lol.

If you didn't like this request, please tell me and I'll try to write it better!

Read you in the next post!

[phyrestartr]

Simple Things [3] - Miguel O'hara x Male!Reader

# Mild NSFW, fluff, comfort, flirting, light angst, male!reader, dad!reader, spider!reader, implied depression, mentions of trauma, mentions of past relationships, mentions of manipulation, old men just doing their best, miguel is a sweetheart and a nerd, multi-part drabble collection

[ 1 ] Smoke Break | [ 2 ] We Change Like the Seasons | [ 3 ] Meet the Kids

Notes: Covid is still kicking my ass but I wanted to finish this part off so I can make the reader and Miguel fuck in the next part wahoo \o/

-- Meet The Kids --

A girl walked into the lab. Miguel thought maybe Gwen or another spider had come to ask something of him or to steal one of the cookies from his desk console (wouldn't be the first time), but the lazy scuff of shoes on polished floors sounded too clumsy to be one of his agents. She wasn't wearing a suit either, Miguel realized after sparing a glance over his shoulder; she did, however, sport a day pass on a small wrist. 

"And you are?" Miguel asked before turning back to his screens. He wasn't really in the mood for conversation while he tracked the next anomaly, but he couldn't say he wanted some random kid to be touching his stuff in his lab. 

"I dunno. Who're you?" Ugh. 

The clattering of something hitting the floor made Miguel's eye twitch. He took a breath. "I'm the guy running the show here." He closed screens with gruesome scenes of destruction, hiding them from the prying eyes of the innocent in the room with him. "And I'm the one who's about to call your guardian." 

She scoffed. "My guardian?" 

"Whichever spider dragged you into HQ and let you off your leash with a day pass." Miguel spied her out of the corner of his eye, but didn't have the decency to face her. "Lyla. Scan her." 

"You got it, buddy." 

"Woah, wait–!" The girl gasped as a warm orange light washed over her, flickering across her entirety before vanishing. "Dude." Despite the attitude, her voice trembled faintly. Miguel almost felt bad. But she touched his stuff. Not his fault. 

Lyla whistled and adjusted her sunnies as she leaned into a tiny screen of her own. "Oooh, you're gonna love this, Miguel–" 

"Miguel?" The girl repeated. "Like…the guy Dad talks about?" 

A clairvoyant feeling overwhelmed the spider, probably the same way spidey senses hit the normal spider-people around him. Somehow, he knew who she was, who her dad was before Lyla even said it. 

"Yep, that's (Name)'s kiddo," Lyla chirped. 

Miguel looked at the girl. He really looked at her this time, feeling some sort of stupid with how much she looked like you; her hair was fluffy and unkempt in the same shade yours was, the shape of her nose was like a smaller, cuter version of yours, too. Then there were her eyes. That same hazy hue of uncut gems, a colour of protective dullness that hid something brilliant and effervescent from the outside world. 

"(Name)'s kid," Miguel repeated. Your name felt comfortable on his tongue these days. "Kid, I–what're you doing here? Where's your dad, huh?" 

The girl, very clearly looking around the room to try and spot the elusive Lyla, shrugged. "I 'unno." 

Colour Miguel unimpressed. "Oh, you don't know. Good. Great." He tutted before running a hand through his hair. "Lyla, call the kid's dad–" 

"He's sleeping!" She blurted. "You can't just, like, wake him up; Dad never gets to sleep." Her arms crossed tightly over her chest as her cheeks puffed. "And my name's Isabella, y'know." 

Miguel's dark brow raised in question. "Isabella." Said with a Latin accent. Interesting. Miguel's chest felt tighter. "If your dad's asleep then he probably left you with someone." He looked at her expectantly. 

Isa shrugged again and scuffed her worn soles against the floor. "Mr.Parker didn't notice. He's watching Natalie and Nico and May 'n whatever. So. Yeah." 

Mr.Parker? Oh. "Hm. He babysit you a lot?" God, Miguel should stop asking questions, but curiosity and that damn attention deficit had him by the throat. He turned around and folded his arms over one another, too, before leaning back against the stage console to speak with Isabella properly. 

"Ugh, why are old people so–so freaking annoying? I'm not a baby, I don't need anyone to watch me." Ah. Of course. 

"Oh, wow, ah-huh, yeah. Sure. I'm sure your dad agrees." Her amateur glare wrought a smirk out of him. Would he have argued with Gabi like this? 

Miguel cleared his throat and turned back to the console, reaching for another cookie absent-mindedly. "Look, you can stay here until your father comes to get you, but you have to stop touching things. Got it?" But Isa only grumbled and scuffed her feet again. "Isabella." 

"Uuugh. Fiiine." The girl plopped down into an old rolling chair. Miguel tried not to twitch. He would not snap at a child for breaking his chair, he would not do that. Absolutely not. 

Not even one minute of silence passed before the kid rolled closer to the centre stage Miguel stood at. "Sooo you're, like, my dad's boss or something?" 

"Guess that's the easiest way to put it." Miguel peered at the girl from the corner of his eye. 

"Okay, but what's the hardest way to put it?" Isabella wiggled and sat backwards on the chair, hugging the backrest as she scooted around the lab. "Are yooou…friends?"

Miguel shrugged. "I'd say so." 

"Hmmmm. Are you more than friends?" 

His eye twitched again. "Do you interrogate every adult like this?" 

Isabella huffed. "Uh, he made you cookies. It's sooo not weird to ask if you're, like, a thing." 

"A thing." 

"Like boyfriends–" 

"Santa Muerte, I know what you mean, kid." 

"Okay." Silence fell for all of ten seconds. "I'm just saying–" 

Miguel groaned. "Can you stop talking for five minutes–" 

"--you'd be waaay cooler to have for a step dad than all the people Dad's been dating." 

"Yeah, well, I'm hard to beat." Oh, wow, did he just say that about himself? Christ. Miguel took a deep breath and tried to relax his shoulders with all his might. "That came out wrong. I–look, you need to just–he's dating?" Miguel cringed. It's not that he was interested in you like that, just…he was nosy, that's all. But he was incredibly aware of how that must have sounded to an equally nosy tween. 

Isabella perked up. "Uh, yeah. But everyone he dates ends up being suuuper crazy and weird. Like, it's reaaally bad." 

He shouldn't pry. He really shouldn't. "...Bad how?" Ay, Miguel. 

"Like, they're always super clingy or don't like kids or something. And, like, Nico and Nat had moms who had dads who super hated dad, so they gave him money to make him go away." Isabella nodded matter of factly. "That's what Dad said. He's super sure he's cursed or something. Granny was a bruja y'know." 

Miguel shouldn't be listening to this. He shouldn't be prying into your life through the conduit of a chatty kid. Asking you would be the better option, but this way was so much easier. It felt like he could finally get a grasp of what you'd been through, and maybe catch a glimpse of who you were behind the scenes. 

"Then what about your mom?" Miguel asked, crossing his arms and flicking his gaze back to the monitors. "That didn't happen with her?" 

An offended gasp burst from the young lady. "No! My mom was so not like that. She was Dad's girl!" 

"No kidding." Miguel hummed. He wasn't about to ask what happened to her. Spiderman never had an easy romance, never had an easy life. 

"Yeah! They fought in the war together, and her name's–" 

"Isabella." Your voice cut through the air like winter rain. Miguel almost got chills, and Isa squeaked before hopping off her chair and scrambling on the stage to hide behind Miguel. 

"Oh, look at that. Someone's in trouble," Miguel mumbled, mean smirk quirking the corner of his mouth. 

Isa glared up at Miguel. "Jerk."

"Isabella, quit bothering the boss," You groaned tiredly. Miguel's ears perked as the coo of a little one fluttered through the air. He turned and found you holding the littlest baby in one arm, and a toddler in the other, both incredibly K.Oed.

"M'not bothering him!" She protested. "I'm just hanging out!" 

"Cut the crap, you're probably complaining about school or about my love life or how I wouldn't get you a new phone or some shit." Miguel had to fight back a laugh. He'd never heard you so exasperated nor animated before. "And why the hell did you run off, huh? You had Pete freaking the fuck out." 

"I got bored! I just wanted to go look around!" Isabella pleaded with a puppy-level whine.

"Isa, this place, it's–it's not meant for people without powers. You could get hurt, alright?" You adjusted your grip on the two little ones in your arms. "And the lab is a whole 'nother story, Christ–" 

"It's fine, (Name)," Miguel cut in, turning to you. "She was fine." 

But the worry lines creasing your forehead didn't smooth quite as much as he wanted. "'Ppreciate it, Boss. But, I…" you trailed off, sighing softly. "Yeah. Just. Thanks. I'll, ah, get her out of your hair. Bet you've got work to do." 

Mija, let's go is what Miguel swore he heard come out of your mouth before Isa pouted and ran after you.

Mija. That word brought a world of hurt and comfort to his chest–the coincidence of Spanish on your tongue felt too…perfect, like you'd learned it just to shove it in his face. But Miguel knew better. 

Isabella. 

Mija. 

Your girl, Isa's mother, must have taught you. He liked that, for some reason. The idea of learning something new for a partner. What would you teach him if you were– 

Woah, woah, stop, Miguel. Stop. His ears turned hot. He worried at his bottom lip with fidgety hands before shaking his head free from such dangerous thoughts. 

Focus, he chanted to himself, you've got work to do. 

--

You decided you were sick that day. No, you weren’t really, but the headache chipping away at your skull suggested that, hey, maybe staying home for a day wouldn’t be a bad thing. You could use a break from dragging yourself around New York, searching for the next big scoop, the next tragedy to document and earn a living off of, too. 

So, there you were, in bed, with the tv in the front room playing some sort of movie that you’d heard a thousand times but never learned the name of, while your littlest, newest addition to the family starfished in a laze, his tiny tummy pressed to your broad chest. Your fingers lazily rubbed circles against his little back as he snoozed and drooled on your shirt. Somehow, the giggling and chattering of his sisters didn’t wake him up. Maybe the drumming of your heart, or the safety of a warmth he hadn’t known until now, drowned all of it out. 

He didn’t even stir when his sisters screeched.

You closed your eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. God, please just let it be a spider, please just let it be a spider. You sat up, holding your baby to your chest as you plucked a gun from the side table. You carefully set Nico down into the warmth of where you were laying before stalking to the door and whipping it open, gun poised and ready for–oh. A big spider.

“What the fuck, Miguel,” you hissed, beyond exasperated as you lowered the gun. “Why the–what–I could’ve shot you.” 

Miguel looked beyond bewildered, though some would say entirely bamboozled. He had his hands up like the police had them in his sights, his face was a combination of embarrassed, shocked and annoyed, and his claws had popped out in his flustered panic. His spiderman suit was still on, but he had that white hoodie thrown on top like it’d hide the fact he was spiderman. Hopefully it did. 

“I–” Miguel started.

“Ah-ah.” You cut him off like a dog misbehaving. “Girls?” Their heads popped up from behind the couch and you sighed in relief. “It’s alright, he’s a friend. From work.”

One of your daughters gasped. “It’s the weirdo that’s suuuper into dad!” Isabella cried, jumping out from behind the couch and pointing an accusatory finger at a very unamused-looking Miguel. 

“For the last time, I’m not–”

“You so are!”

“No, I’m not.”

“You are!”

“Yeah!” Natalie joined in, hopping up and down by her sister excitedly and pointing at the man they deemed guilty. “You are, you are!”

Miguel, probably halfway to an early grave, looked to you for help. But you flashed him a tight-lipped smile that said more than words could offer: perish. 

You let the girls hound him while you turned on your heel, heading back into the bedroom to sooth your stirring little boy. The gun found itself back in the drawer, safety on, magazine removed, before you scooped the tiny being into your arms and smooshed up against your chest. Your son quieted and clung to you. You left a kiss on the top of his head to welcome him.

"So," you started as you came back to the scene of the crime, "the hell're you here for, Boss?" You asked, completely unfazed by how the girls had corralled him onto the couch and had his hands in their own, their curious fingers pushing on his tendons and making his claws pop in and out. Honestly, you were pretty tempted to do the same. 

Miguel pursed his lips and ignored the gremlins on him as he looked at you again, something distant softening his features. 

"I, uh. I heard you were sick," he confessed with a small shrug. "Just thought…y’know." 

You hummed as you rubbed your son's back. "Huh. How'd you find that out?" 

"Peter mentioned it." 

"Pete doesn't know I'm sick." 

"Must've been Jess, then." 

"Jessie doesn't know either." 

Miguel was caught. His ears grew red before his cheeks did, and you smirked. Cute. Way too cute. 

"Lyla told me," Miguel grumbled, finally. 

"Ah. There it is. Not so hard to tell the truth now is it, Miggs?" You said with a Cheshire smile and a wink. "Good to know you've got your confidant spying on me." 

Miguel freed himself from the children and stood up quickly. "It's not--I'm not spying on you, I–you–" Miguel pursed his lips. "I don't need to explain myself." 

That made you laugh. "Relax, tough guy. I don't mind ya swinging by. Or, hm, guess I don't mind ya portal-ing in." Miguel didn't seem to think you were that funny, but thankfully Nico, in his haze of dreams, giggled at the right moment. "Nicky thinks I'm funny. You should take notes."

It didn't take much convincing to get Miguel to stay for dinner. You made him take a shower, though, and leant him some clothes to lounge in while you cooked everything from scratch. From scratch. Miguel couldn't remember the last time he had a home cooked meal. 

"Yeah? That's sad as shit," you remarked nonchalantly as you diced vegetables. "Tell ya what, you make it a habit of coming around, and I'll make sure I make extra for you, yeah? It's important to have that home cooked goodness for your soul 'n what not." 

Miguel felt his chest fill with something fluffy and warm. "Good point." But it wasn't, really. "Guess I'll have to make it a habit." He leaned back against the counter as he watched you prep everything. "Wouldn't want you putting in all that extra effort for nothing."

You twitched a bit of a smile and nodded. "My thoughts exactly." 

You spared a glance at Miguel. He looked calm, at ease, like the threat of the dimensions collapsing wasn't at the forefront of his mind for once. You thought, maybe, this might be the first time in a long time that he had his mind off work. Maybe he was doing that whole human thing and enjoying the present for a change. Jumping to conclusions wasn't really your style, though. 

Crimson eyes flickered, then, gazing towards the crib settled in your bedroom. He must've heard your little man stir. He must've wanted to do something about it, if his sudden shiftiness told you anything. 

"You mind checking on him?" You asked softly, knowing that, maybe, this was a big ask for a man who only had a phantom to tuck in at night. "He's fussy. Likes to be held." 

"You're sure?" The other man asked, brows furrowed in concern. 

"You kidding? If there's any guy I'd trust with my kid, it's you." You fiddled with the wrapper of the packaged chicken meat before ultimately stabbing it with a knife. "Go on. Before he starts crying." 

And Miguel wandered off to the little one. His voice had that sound to it when he spotted him, that kind of gentleness a man unlocked when he felt what it meant to be a father, a protector of a smaller soul. You listened hard for Miguel's smile, and felt your heart throb when you heard, "Hey, mijo. ¿Estas bien?" leave his lips. Your little boy cooed, and Miguel made a noise that sounded so frightfully domestic and dad-like, you thought you might perish on the spot, or fall in love in a second. 

Get it together, get it together. A deep breath steadied your blitzing nerves when Miguel came back to the kitchen, Nico in his arms, smooshed up against his chest. You stole a glance, smiling to yourself when you caught Miguel mooning over the lazy bundle of joy. 

You worked fast, feeling a weird, undeniable desire to talk after you had your army of children fed and sent to bed. Miguel didn’t leave your side, nor did he deign to put Nico down, not through soup and sandwiches, not through 20 questions hosted by Isabella and Natalie, and not through the moments alone where you herded the young ladies off to wash up before getting them to bed for the night. 

“Y’know, you’re gonna spoil that kid,” you said with a smile when you came back to find Miguel on the couch with your son. You sat down by him with a dad-like sigh and peered at the little one snoozing away. “He’s gonna demand you hold him every time you come around.”

Miguel huffed a laugh. “You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.”

“Hey, with arms ‘n pecs like that?” You pat one of Miguel’s impressive biceps to prove a point. “I get where he’s coming from. Lots of free real estate with good foundations.”

“Oh? You want me to hold you too?” Miguel offered, some sort of impish lilt lifting his voice as he looked over at you.

You fought back the urge to swallow. “Sure. If you’re offering.” But Miguel looked a little caught again, a little unsure of how much to tease and how hard to press, so you let him off the hook with a laugh. 

“Man, you really remind me of her.” You rested your head against the couch, maybe a little bit on Miguel’s shoulder, as you watched your boy sleep. “Liliana,” you amended, “Isabella’s mom.” 

Scarlet eyes flickered to you. Seems you caught his attention. “Liliana,” Miguel tested the name on his tongue slowly, thoughtfully. “Isabella’s mom.” And after another pause, he asked, “I guess she’s gone?”

“Gone. Yeah.” You blinked slowly, and let the words rotting in your lungs breach the surface: “I killed her.” Ah, maybe you said that with too much nonchalance, you worried, but Miguel’s low hum seemed to suggest otherwise. 

It felt good. You couldn't stop yourself from talking. “It was an accident, I guess. She was a scientist. Geneticist, I think. Made me into, well, whatever I am now.” You flexed your hand and looked it over, like the blueprints of your design were still hidden under tired skin. “‘Cause, y’know, I was a soldier, she said I was gonna be the next Captain America, but… that doesn’t matter. Anyway, side effects were bad, really bad. I freaked out, then--then, y'know.” You took a breath. “Killed my little girl’s mom.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek as you stared at nothing, sucked back into a daze and a trance you’d long forgotten about. But you remembered the blood, the screaming, the way you and those webs ignited and how the white lab coats all howled and screamed and popped. The scent of roasted flesh should have disgusted you, it should have knocked some sense into you and dragged you out of whatever episode you were having, but instead–

Your stomach growled, and you cleared your throat. 

“Yeah. That was a bad day.” 

“I get it,” Miguel said, and sounded like he meant it. “Guess something like that happened to me.” 

You peered up at him, glimpsing his conflicted, troubled look. 

“Yeah?” Thought Spiderman had a boring, normal story. Because, in totality, you were something more demented than just Spiderman, so your story was more fucked up than the rest. Maybe you were wrong.

“Yeah. I was–my research killed someone when I was trying to make them into, well, Spiderman.” Miguel sighed and shook his head, admonishing himself from the past. “I didn’t want to. I got pressured into it. Drugged when I wanted to quit. It was a mess.

“Tried to rewrite my DNA, and then a colleague shocked that up for me, and I ended up with the claws, the fangs, the–the everything. Slashed his throat by accident, got some other people killed when they tried to help me, killed some baddies when I didn’t mean to.” 

Miguel’s gaze turned to you. “So don’t think you’re alone.” 

“Huh,” you said astutely. “Guess you really meant it when you called us ‘miserable bastards.’”

“Takes one to know one, I guess.” Miguel’s shoulder shifted slightly, easing down so your head could rest more comfortably against him. Your chest swirled with errant embers, but you tried not to think too hard about it. 

“You said I reminded you of her. Of Liliana?” Miguel asked, quiet and tentative. 

You hummed. “Yeah. The good parts.” You smiled (when had that gotten so easy?) and reached over to brush some dark hair from Nico’s tiny forehead. “She was smokin’ hot.” 

“...Huh.”

“Way too smart for her own good,” you continued. “It's always the smart ones that get me, y'know? Anyway, she was sly 'n funny in a mean way, but hey, I like that shit. Maybe I'm a masochist." 

"So," Miguel started, shifting slightly to face you more, "let me get this straight. You think I'm 'smoking hot,' 'too smart for my own good,' and 'funny in a mean way'?" The grin on his face was too much for you to handle. Why did you feel so hot suddenly? Why was he so close suddenly?

"I think that sums it up." 

"Huh. Anyone ever tell you you're an asshole?" 

"Ouch. Okay, what if I throw in 'she was born to be a bangin' mom','' you offered, feeling a long-forgotten rush of excitement as you sat up and leaned in close, so close, your hand coming up to cup the side of his strong neck as you kept talking, "and that she made me feel somethin' for the first time in a long time?" 

You could feel Miguel's breath hitch in his throat as he measured the gap between you two, his eyes flicking down to your lips and back to your eyes in debate. You wanted to close it. With every inch of your being you wanted to take the plunge and crash your lips against his. 

But, with every fibre of your soul, you didn't want to fuck this up. You didn't have words for what this even was, but you cherished it. Sauntering down this line of friendship, of companionship, was better than taking the dive back into that world of icy yearning and wilting roses–this type of love, the platonic sort shared between brothers and men, was meaningful in and of itself. It was good enough.

Wasn't it?

You looked over his face, in disbelief with yourself. "Who am I kidding?" You whispered, letting your hand fall from his neck like a glacier shearing away from its home. 

A small, tired laugh crawled from your chest, and you rubbed your face. "I, uh, think I oughta call it a night. I'm gonna–I gotta tuck Nicky into his crib." And carefully, gently, you scooped up your monkey and whispered quiet thanks into his hair–your little man was the perfect scapegoat. 

What're you thinking? Careful hands pulled up the banana-patterned blanket over Nico's tiny form after you'd set him down in the cozy crib that he loathed so much. You thought it was nice and comfy. Hell, if you could fit, you'd probably snooze in there all day. 

"Good work today, Nicky. I think you made the big guy relax a little, y'know?" Your son cooed sweetly in his sleep, and your spirit lifted just slightly. It almost gave you the strength to go face Miguel after coming onto him so hard. 

Finding the last bit of courage yourself, you gave your boy one last kiss on the noggin and quietly snuck out, closing the door with utmost caution behind you, only to be pressed up against it a moment later, and smothered with a kiss. 

A bolt of lightning kicked your pulse into triple time as you kissed Miguel back. His hands caught you by your hips, and your arms hooked around his shoulders and pulled him in closer. The simple thing was exhilarating. He was exhilarating. The embodiment of strength and resilience, of power and intelligence, was crushing you up against a door and taking the air from your lungs with such ease. 

"Fuck," you gasped when you parted with a wet noise that sounded far too Hollywood. "You're not half bad." 

"You've got a talent for ruining the mood." Miguel scoffed and tilted your chin up. His half-lidded eyes drank you in as soft breaths left his parted lips. You wanted nothing more than to be eaten whole by him (was that weird?). 

"I got a few other talents, too," you purred, voice swirling with velvety dark chocolate. "But that might be too much for an old man like–" 

Your squawked indignantly when he scooped you up and hoisted you over his shoulder like you were nothing but a petulant child. Your hands scrabbled against his back, and a shocked bout of laughter bubbled up from your core as he slapped you on the ass hard. Was this real? Were you seriously getting manhandled and spanked by Miguel O'hara? 

Miguel almost threw you onto the couch, but you guessed the children snoozing in the next room over hampered that decision. 

"If there's one thing I'm never too old for," Miguel murmured lightly, almost condescendingly as he set you down on the couch and got on top of you, "it's sex." 

Your eager hands flitted across his taut muscles, too excited and undecided as to where to land first. "Thought you were too old to sleep around?" 

"I don't sleep around," Miguel corrected, letting you fill in the blanks. 

That helped you relax a little. "Yeah?" 

He looked so conflicted, a little embarrassed, too. But that was becoming more and more common these days, thanks to you. "Yeah." 

You nodded and reached a hand up to his cheek, and he leaned in graciously as a needy cat might. "Okay. Then I don't either." 

Miguel hummed, and turned to mark your palm with a little kiss. "Alright." 

"And maybe…we don't fuck tonight." His sleepy gaze found you again with one dark brow raised, surprised. "I'm, uh, I think I'm down pretty bad for you, Boss. I don't wanna fuck this up." 

And, truth be told, you wanted to give him some respite. Maybe you wanted to give some to yourself, too; Liliana and Dahlia danced through your mind so much these days, no thanks to the burgeoning fondness growing for Miguel. He reminded you of both of them, of Winter and Summer, of snow and flowers. But it wasn't fair, not to you or him, to compare him to the epitome of cold and the apex of warmth. You needed time, too. Time to learn how to compare him to no one.

Miguel smiled, small and sincere. You admired the fine lines crinkling the corners of his eyes. He looked so handsome when he smiled. You wanted him to do it more. Were you enough to make him smile more?

"Yeah. I don't want you to shock this up either," he said, and your brows raised, incredulous. 

"This is what I get for trying to be mature ‘n romantic, huh?” Your fingers drummed against the arms caging you in. You thought about chancing a finger-taser to his ribs, but with those damn claws of his, you were a little too worried about your couch cushions getting demolished.

His handsome smile turned into a punchable smirk. “What? I’m agreeing with you.” 

“Ah-huh, ah-huh, that’s all, hey?” You leaned up and kissed Miguel again, slower and tamer this time, but still burning with want. Ugh. Why did you have to try to be all mature and romantic? “You’re just being a good boy?”

Miguel’s hips twitched at that, and it was your turn to smirk. Oh, how the tables turn. 

“Lay down,” you ordered, sitting up to get out from under him. “Come on.”

“I–what?” He grumbled, looking a little befuddled and frustrated. Cute, cute cute. “Thought we agreed on–”

“Heavy petting’s not off the table, right?” You cut him off. Miguel perked a little bit at the suggestion and did as he was ordered, his hands finding your hips again as you took your turn straddling him. “Luckily for you, I’m an expert at the clothes-on experience.” You winked and Miguel sucked in a breath. 

“Show me.” He ordered, voice deep and gravelly.

And you did.

[eeunoia]

ENHYPEN Series

sinag — psh.

chapter five

pairings: park sunghoon x reader

synopsis: waiting for a great plot twist in your life, the ruthless and powerful mafia boss park sunghoon forced his way in to it.

word count: 3.5k

warnings: a contains harrassment, violence, guns, killings, abuse, obsessive love & other stuff. if you can't take this stuff, feel free to scroll away. let me know if i missed some.

note: hello, i hope you will enjoy this chapter and give me feedbacks. ily and thank you for reading my works. stay safe.

eeunoia 2024 © all rights reserved.

The man crawled slowly over the dirty street, trying to make a run for his life. He grunts as the injury and wounds to his whole body was inscrutable. He can hear multiple footsteps making sounds as they step into the puddles of rainwaters all over the place caused by the pouring rain. It made it colder and harder to breath.

He yelped in pain when someone stepped hardly over his back, pushing him further to the ground. Making him one with the dirty and wet street.

“Where the fuck do you think are you going?” his tone empty and devoid of emotions. It makes him scared and cries of plea follows right after.

He felt his head harshly pulled back by his hair as the man leaned down. To look at this brutal man’s eyes almost sent him down to hell. Despite being under the rain, blood splattered on his face painting his fair skin red.

“P-Please,” he begged.

The man showed no remorse and without a word, he slammed his head on the ground making him lose his consciousness completely.

“Aren’t you going to stop him?” Jake asks Jay as they watch their friend beat the shit out of this poor man.

Jay craned his neck to look at the scene and his reaction seems like he was pretty much used to it already. He shrugs his shoulder off while holding an umbrella to keep him from being drenched from the heavy rain. “Do you want to?”

Jake sighs and just silently watch their friend kicking the man on the ground. It was obvious that he was incapable to fight back or even shield himself from all the hit. He was unconscious, probably almost near his death.

Tonight, the three of them gathered to do some 'business' and since Sunghoon just came from his trip from another country, trying to find his girl, he's slightly on the bad mood. Slightly.

Jay and Jake were already covered in blood, but Sunghoon's showering over it. They couldn't just stop him because they know he somehow relieves stress this way. The look of murder on his eyes aren't fading just yet and they both knew it will last for a bit longer tonight.

“I thought you and Ni-ki are searching for her too?” Jay whispered lighting up another cigarette.

The other man sighs, “Yes. But its odd, we managed to find some informations about her but all of it was three years ago.”

It made Jay halt from taking a huff from his cigs before he tilts his head, “You mean its like she vanished?”

Jake nods his head. Even him find it uncanny how there's no more updates or informations about her whereabouts. Like she's purposely maintaining a low profile or someone is doing it for her? It made him confused and even made Ni-ki digs more deeply like as if that wasn't what the younger one was already doing.

“What if she's dead already?” Jay blurted while watching their friend let all his frustrations out.

“Hell will break lose,” Jake took a deep sigh, trying to relax his tensed shoulder. “Can you see him? He's a ticking time bomb and only her can defuse him.”

Jay smirks, “We really need to hope she's alive somewhere.”

“There's no records saying that she is dead so I think we're still good.”

They both nods their head and once again watch how their friend kill those unfortunate people who stands on his way. He was unstoppable, unable to be tamed. Right now, they knew they had to find you faster or else he will really lose his mind.

“Still nothing?” your head snaps to your side, shoulder slumped so low that shows so much of your disappointment.

You've been on a hunt for your new job for a month already and yet none of them calls back. Pretty sure its not the degree or experiences that sets as an issue to this matter. Your previous boss surely used his power to make your life miserable.

“Yes.”

Lucie stares at you with a look of pity before she sets down her glass of water. She trudges closer to where you are to try and console you. She can see how hard working you are and even if you haven't told her the full story yet, she knew it wasn't you who caused all the troubles.

“Why don't you just try applying on my previous work place? I mean, its not as big as your salary before, but its not a bad pay.”

Your eyes looks at her, “Yeah, maybe I should do that. Thank you so much Lucie.”

She smiles and caress your back. “No problem. I’ll send you the details for the HR department so you can send your resume.”

You nod your head and watch her walk back to the room adjacent to yours. Things may had been rough with you, but you are lucky enough to have her beside you. It's still amusing for you how she’s very nice. Guess its really true that whenever someone leaves and go, somebody will arrive on your life.

It wasn’t hard to get an interview appointment for the said company. It was a lot smaller than your old work, but that's fine. This isn't the time to be picky specially if you're starting to deplete your savings.

They replied with your said schedule of interview and the things you need to prepare for the application. It made you hopeful despite knowing the possibility of not being accepted again. These are the usual routine. You send your resume, they reply with your schedule for interview, interview you and then ask you to wait for nothing. Eitherway you let yourself hope and dressed up for it.

The company was discarding lots of employees for the past week now since they had a new boss. The information raised your expectation to be accepted since they're in need of people.

Your heart thumped inside your chest as you wait patiently for your turn. The ac was on, you're sure of it, but you're sweating cold. It was not a foreign feeling. Just like whenever a teacher asks you to recite something in front of everybody in your class or taking one of your biggest exams. It made your palms sweaty and your feet tapping lightly to the floor. It was a dreadful feeling.

On the other hand, Jake's eyes lazily watch the view from inside his vehicle. He felt his phone ringing so he fished it from his coat and answered.

“Dude, where are you?”

He sighs, “I’m going to work. What do you want, Jay?”

His friend's whine can be heard from the other line that tugs the corner of his lips upwards. “It's a saturday? Come on.”

“I can’t. I’m in the middle of rebuilding this new company I bought.”

“The one near your mall? Why did you even bought that when it doesn't even match your own companies?”

“It does have income and regenerating well for years now. I can check on what I can do to improve it and if not, I can just demolish and use the land to extend my mall.”

Jay lets out a sigh, he just couldn't believe how Jake is a monster in this field of work. He is pretty smart, he'll give him that, but when it comes to business he's on a different level. Mainly why most of their friends comes to him for advice.

“Fine, call me later after you finish playing with your toys.”

Jake chuckles, “All right.”

He ended the call just in time of their arrival at the said company. His men opens the door for him and the handsome bachelor steps outside proudly. He walks inside and workers started to greet him, paying full respect for him. His serious demeanor didn't falter and just head straight for the lift, going to his office.

As he arrives, line of people caught his attention. He was about to ask what's it all about when he remembered how he command for them to hire new employees after he dismissed most of them. He wanted this company working as to the way he wanted it to be. So those who are not in line with his vision, he gets rid of them.

“Mr. Sim.” his secretary for this company greets him with a flushing cheeks. He kept his placid expression and wait for what she's about to say.

“We already started to interview applicants for the job vacancies.” she said trying hard to check any positive reaction from him.

Jake's eyes roams around carefully as she continues to fill him through the updates from the things he asked them to do. Slowly, her voice became muffled as his eyes get caught at something that made him utterly surprised.

He pursed his lips, brows furrowing hardly at the sight of a girl a few feet away from where he's standing. Her nervous face was obvious as she continuous to fidget with her fingers. Jake doesn't know what to think. He was so close to asking his men if he's starting to see things, but then he snapped himself back to his senses.

“Who is she?” her secretary snaps her head in a hurry to follow his line of sight.

She hesitates and look back from you and Jake, just to check if she's getting it right.

“She's probably one of the applicants for the job.” her eyes dropping over the folder she was holding.

Jake didn't talk and kept his stance. He resets his mind to come up with his new plan and for his next move. He was always careful and never reckless.

“Ohh...” his assistant talks with a tone sounding a little bit astound. He looks at her as she checks her file.

“Why?”

“She's being blacklisted.”

Jake's forehead furrowed at the information he heard. This thing was already common in the world of business. People that have power uses this method to make sure someone they don't really like cannot be accepted in any company they are associated on.

“Blacklisted? By who?”

“Mr. Kang.” she answered quickly.

There's a lot of Kang in the industry of business, but since he knew whose the main investors of this company he already have an idea which Kang she's referring to. It slowly lights up curiosity over him on what did you possibly do to make him so upset to the point he was making your life this miserable.

Was he your ex boyfriend? Jake couldn't help but to scoff inside his mind at the thought of what Sunghoon will do to him once he found out. He may lose his mind and make Mr. Kang regret he even walked this earth.

Jake sighs, trying to hold his excitement.

“I want her in my office in five minutes. I will interview her myself.” he announced that surprised her assistant.

He starts heading towards his office and she follows him, “But Mr. Kang's instruction is to not accept her even in interviews.”

Jake didn't say anything and just lightly cranes his head to stare at her. Chills run through her spine at the strictness that lingers through his eyes. She instantly regrets insisting about what Mr. Kang instructed.

“R-Right away, sir.” she bows her head in a submissive manner before politely excusing herself to do as he say.

He trudges towards his office while fishing his phone from his coat. His men follows silently, waiting for anything he will order them to do.

“Riki.” Jake sighs, despite the calm demeanor he couldn't help but to flash a small smile over his lips.

“What hyung?” the younger one sounds in a rush.

“I found her.”

“Who?” his response made him roll his eyes in disbelief. Is he that distracted that he forgot their main agenda?

“Sunghoon's obsession.”

The other line went silent. Jake even furrowed in confusion and checked if Ni-ki turned off the call, but no. It's still going. He put his phone back to his ears.

“Hey,”

“No way, hyung? Are you for real?” now he sounded so interested. He smirks, remembering how he reacted moments ago after seeing you.

Who would not react that way? Sunghoon's been searching for you for years already and to see you now is just amusing. So he really did saw you and not losing his mind. Jake felt relieved, but also a little worried of how things will work out after this.

“Yes. I’ll send you her details later so you can go dig for her informations again.”

“All right. I’ll be waiting.”

They bid good-byes and Jake started preparing himself for your arrival. He's sure that his assistant will escort you inside any minute now.

Jake's was an inch close to call Sunghoon and deliver him the good news, but he's smarter than that. He knew better than to spoil the moment and mess things up. Of course he wants his friend to see you and finally put an end to his miserable search operations. He needs to think things through and come up with the best plans in order to help his friend.

“Miss Aelia?” your head lifts up after hearing your name. The lady who asked you to wait in line from a while ago was in front of you. She's holding this folder and she have this warry expression on her face.

Your eyes glanced around to check what's up and its still not yet your turn for the interview. Chest started beating fast and you worry that things are starting to be messed up once again. Shoulders already falling, you looked up at her with a pitiful eyes.

“Y-Yes?” you are so ready to pack up and leave when she flashes you a small smile.

“Kindly follow me.”

A bit bewildered that she didn't sent you home, you managed to stand up on your feet and follow behind her. People sitting beside you were also confused but has nothing much that they can do.

She guides you towards this hallway leading to a more secluded part of the floor. And your heart sank when you read that its the president's office.

Your hand unconsciously reached over your skirt, flattening it a bit. Next is your hair that you fixed and just in time, she asked you to wait for a bit.

She enters the room and not a minute long, she peaked through the door then asked you to come inside. You nodded and gulped, feeling your throat getting dry. To say that you are nervous was an understatement. Your breathing are fast and heavy, like your heart will jump out from your chest. Your palms both so sweaty and your throat running dry despite the continuous attempt of washing it off with your saliva.

The officed looked a little messy, like things are being moved from here and there. Maybe because they have a new president, the office are being renovated. But any of that should be the least of your concern because at the center of that said room, was Jake Sim.

The moment you laid eyes on him, you are slightly shook. He was handsome, very handsome to be exact. He has this mullet length black hair that seemed so soft. Plump lips and big doe eyes that reminds you of puppy eyes. Funny, because for someone who have delicate features, he sure is intimidating.

You feel very nervous as you took more steps closer to his visitor's chair that was placed in front of his desk.

“Good day, S-Sir.” you stuttered a little as he kept his eyes fixed at your direction.

You can't really tell what's in his mind at the moment. His stares remained and you couldn’t help but to feel odd about it. He didn't say anything even after his secretary has left the room. It's already been a minute.

Something about his stares makes you feel more nervous and somehow anxious. The urge to stand up and leave slowly intoxicated your mind, but you know this isn't the right time to let your trauma from your previous boss take over you.

“S-Sir?” you tried catching his attention.

That visibly snapped Jake back to his senses. He cleared his throat, a bit embarrassed for staring too much. He cursed inside his mind, knocking his senses back to his system. He needs to collect himself and not mess this up. Surely it was fascinating seeing you here inside his office, but frightening you would be the last thing he wanted.

“So,” he draws in a sigh before grabbing a piece of paper to write on. “Miss Aelia, huh?”

Your head bops lightly and a short “Yes, Sir.” follows.

Jake scanned the folder he was holding. All the basic informations that Ni-ki had given him are mostly here. He clicked his tongue and tilts his head over to the side.

“Where are you currently staying?”

His question made you purse your lips tightly, contemplating whether to tell him or not. Various things clouded your mind, some of them even appropriate. You couldn’t help it, what happened to you in the past caused all of these.

“W-Why...”

Seems like the man in front of you noticed your expression so he was quick to pull off a small smile. He still looked intimidating, but it somehow ease your worry.

“If you’re living far from the premises we are to offer you a place to your convenience. Also a car for you to use to travel back and fort all expense will taken care of the company.” he offered.

You were caught off-guard by what he said. Is this how it usually is? Company aren’t this generous when it comes to new employees so you’re a little confused, but at the same time tempted. A place to stay sounds great and a vehicle? Sure sounds very convenient too.

“I live a bit far from here, Sir.” you answered that made him nod his head slowly, eyes trailing back towards the folder he was holding.

“Are you single or already married?” his eyes are fixed at your resume. It took you a while to answer that made him glance back up to you.

“Your benefits will be based on your civil status.” you felt embarrassed for thinking differently of his question.

“O-Oh! I’m single, Sir.”

Jake smiles and nods his head before resuming to reading your informations.

Its not that it even matter whether you’re single or not. In the end, Sunghoon will still do everything in his will to get you. But it’s good to know you are single, at least a soul was saved from his friend’s wrath.

“T-That’s actually great, Sir.” you managed to utter. His eyes lits up and lips lifts up in eagerness.

“So you’re accepting the job?” he sounds hopeful making you furrow your brows, addled with all of the things that’s happening.

“Y-Yes, but aren’t you going to interview me?” your tone sounded too soft for Jake. He knew Sunghoon will go crazy for it and he couldn’t wait for you two to meet. But there’s still a lot of things to take care of.

He lifts his head up to glance at you, tearing his gaze off from your resume that contains all the details he wanted from you. He shows a confident smile, making blushed a bit, getting caught off-guard by his visuals.

“I just did.” he shrugs his shoulders off in a relax manner.

Despite being a little confused as to how things just ended so well, you couldn’t help but to feel giddy to actually get the job.

“S-So I’m hired?”

Jake nods, “Yes. You can start on monday. Sounds good?”

Your lips stretched into a wide smile as you accept Jake’s hands. “Yes, Sir! Thank you so much! I will do my best and I will not disappoint you.”

He smirks and nods then watch how his secretary escorts you outside his office. It’s been two minutes since you left, but he was still staring straight at the door right in front of him. He couldn’t believe it.

He stood up and fishes his phone from his pocket, a big playful smirk plays over his lips while waiting for someone to pick up his call.

'“What?” Sunghoon hissed at him.

Jake scoffs, clearly not surprised to his friend’s arrogance.

“10 Million.” he started.

“The fuck you saying?”

“I’m selling you this new company I acquired and currently revisioning.”

This time, it was his friend’s turn to scoff at him.

“Ten Million? What? Is there some gold hidden in that company or something?” Sunghoon asks, very sarcastic.

Jake’s grin grew wider, wanting so bad to spill the great news to his friend.

“You can say that.”

Sunghoon didn’t respond right away and just thought of what his friend was offering. He may not be the best one when it comes to business, but he sure not a dumb person. Jake rarely sells him property unless it was worth it or he can benefit from it in the near future. He trust his friend.

He sighs, “I’ll send you the check tomorrow.” and ended the call right away.

Jake laughs and put back his phone inside his pocket. “God damn, this is fun.”

main master-list

permanent tag-list:

@rubyanne @map-of-border @hwangjangmi @love13tter @candewlsy @simpforniki @classicroyalty @bridgebridgebirdiebridge @hime98 @moonsclassyslore @ddeonubaby @yeoungie @acciomylove @mymeloem19 @jvngw0n @dreamjerky @minamoons @clar-iii @herasalvatore @nyfwyeonjun @rcveribin @yizhoutv @one16core @soobin-chois @kyutiepeachy @chareadingpurposes @hwalllllllelujah @solelyenha @90sni-ki @nourhan-8 @nikipedia07 @yangbreads @drunkjazed @kimmchijjajang @hoonbrry @axartia @all4haru @sta-rie @hiqhkey @purplepuppychild @iceeee @wtfhyuck @tobiosbbyghorl @nikililmj @moonlightisland @ayayiiie @aeyeree

tag-list:

@heeseung-min

[angelikook]

Keep Your Enemies Close

⤿ Pairing(s): Detective!Namjoon; Mafia boss!Yoongi; Mafia!Taehyung x reader

⤿ Genre: Slight angst, slight fluff, mafia, detective, crime

⤿ Word Count: 3.3k (unedited)

⤿ Warning(s): Murder(s), profanities

⤿ Summary: This time, you realize that your annoying brother, Namjoon, might not be so annoying after all. Not especially after what you two have been through.

⤿ A/n: This is the first fic I’m writing after years of hiatus :D I’m trying something different with this fanfic where Y/n is not the center of the story. This fanfic is not so much about the romance between Taehyung and Y/n, but more about Namjoon and his attempt to fix his relationship with his sister, Y/n.

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"Don't. Tell. Me. What. To. Do." Y/n slammed the door behind her, leaving only the Mandarin smell of her perfume, Vanilla smell of her freshly washed hair, and a gust of wind from the closed door.

Namjoon plopped himself on the couch, not minding the creaks it let out. His mind had other things to think about.

First, Mr. Lee. Somehow the killer of his parents disappeared with million dollars worth of drugs. It'd been reported that he might have stolen it and smuggled it somewhere. All of Namjoon's progress on finding him vanished. He had to start over.

Second, Y/n, his dear sister, the only family member left. After the death of their parents a few years ago, she became more and more distant with him. She barely ate the food he cooked, rarely answered his calls, and went out until late at night. And today was no different.

He came home to a messy house. Today's breakfast leftovers were still on the table. Stale and soggy. He gagged during the entire process of cleaning them.

Trashcan overflowed. It was still fresh in his mind when he told Y/n to take out the trash as she left this morning. Guess she didn’t listen to him as usual. Reluctantly, he grabbed the full trash bag and dragged it out. He really needed to give Y/n a word on discipline.

Upon returning to his dim apartment, Namjoon could've sworn the atmosphere in his apartment had changed. The strong smell of alcohol mixed with tobacco was a dead giveaway. He never arrived home smelling of alcohol or tobacco.

Namjoon slowly closed the door behind him. “Come out,” he says to no one in particular. He didn’t know who or how many people were there. Until the intruder chuckled.

“You’re well trained. Like a dog.” Yoongi walked out from his hiding place while clapping. The scar across his right eye glistened under the dim light.

Third, Yoongi was on the wanted list. Several smugglings of weapons and drugs couldn’t really get far without notice in this city. And for a criminal on the run to show up in front of you was not a good sign. Yoongi in Namjoon’s living room was a bad sign. A bad omen.

“I don’t have time for this.”

Yoongi sat on Namjoon’s couch. “But you do. Because fucking Mr. Lee ran away with my stuff and I know you’re on the lookout for him.”

Namjoon couldn’t say he wasn’t interested. But he wasn’t about to let a mafia boss interfere with his own mission. “What does it have anything to do with me?”

“Because I know where he is. And I know your people are looking for me. Go put two and two together.”

“Let you off the hook and I can kill him? Deal.” And as easy as that, Namjoon reached an agreement with a fugitive.

They shook hands and just a moment before Yoongi disappeared just like he usually did, Yoongi said, “Oh, and your sister, she’s safe.”

***

Unlike any other mafia gang, Yoongi’s wasn’t in a shady part of the city. In fact, his headquarters was in the nicest business complex in the city. Namjoon scoffed at the sight of the skyscraper. It was very on brand of Yoongi to hide in plain sight.

“What are you waiting for? Come on in.” Yoongi in his black suit, standing right in front of the door.

“I want to see my sister first,” Namjoon said as he followed Yoongi into the lobby.

“Not so fast. I don’t want to see any sibling fights here.” Yoongi headed to the elevator with Namjoon still in tow. “You should know why and how she got here.”

The elevator dinged and opened. At first it looked normal, until Yoongi gestured to the panel inside it.

“Real diamonds,” he commented.

Namjoon scoffed again. Only Yoongi would want his elevator buttons to be made from diamonds.

“As I said, you need to know why she got here. Only then you won’t yell at her when you see her,” Yoongi continued his speech as they waited until the elevator stopped.

“I have my reasons.”

“I know. That’s why I’ll explain to you why you shouldn’t.”

"You seem so confident I won't be angry after listening to your speech. But you should be aware that Y/n is my sister. Whatever I do to her is for her own good."

The elevator stopped and opened. The two of them walked out.

"Bla bla bla, that's what adults say to kids. Or you to your sister. But she's no longer a child. She knows her things."

"She clearly doesn't know anything if she ever chooses to stay with you."

"That's where you're wrong. She clearly knows more than you if she ever decides to stay here." Yoongi gestured to the long corridor in front of them.

The corridor reminded Namjoon a lot of the corridor of a hotel. Long, narrow, carpeted, cold, and quiet. Doors upon doors lined up with numbers on them. This floor must be where Yoongi's people sleep.

"This floor is one of the 'living' floors if you wanna call it that. This is where we sleep. Well, not me personally, but you know what I mean," Yoongi explained. "This floor is where my high ranks sleep. And to enter, you must go through facial recognition."

Only then Namjoon realized that in front of him was a glass door. Clear and almost invisible from how clean it was. On the side of the door, there was a panel in which Yoongi scanned his face. A beep and a green light showed that the facial recognition worked and the door opened.

"Let's go." Yoongi walked in with Namjoon following suit. The carpeted floor padded the clicks from his chelseas.

"The higher ranks only get a fucking glass door as protection?" Namjoon questioned.

"If the glass door is broken, it'll send an alarm to go off and enforce a metal wall as a temporary replacement. That wall is even stronger than the entire building. You won't go through unless you can knock down the entire building." Yoongi smirked. "Like I said, your sister is safe."

Yoongi stopped in front of room number 1017 and pressed the bell. As if their visit had been anticipated, a man opened the door.

The man was probably in his late 20s, not much younger than Namjoon himself. But despite the slight difference in age, he looked way rougher than him. His eye lines were clearly visible, his jawline sharp and decorated with razor scars from shaving. A toothpick hanging from the side of his lips. Namjoon didn’t know who he was, but he prayed it wasn’t anyone important.

“Oh, it’s you, boss. Come on in,” the man invited both of them inside. “Y/n is in the bedroom. Go sit wherever, I’ll call Y/n.” Then he left to what Namjoon guessed as the bedroom.

“That’s Taehyung. My right hand. My best strategist,” Yoongi said while taking out a lighter and a box of cigs from his pocket. He put the items on the coffee table before sitting on the white couch.

Namjoon followed suit, sitting in front of Yoongi. The couch definitely felt much nicer than his. No creaks nor groans even when you forcefully land your butt there.

“Why is he in Y/n’s bedroom? And why does she own a room here? Is this the reason why she’s rarely home anymore?” Questions upon questions left Namjoon’s mouth.

“I’ll answer them one by one. This is not Y/n’s room. This is Taehyung’s. You see how the room is two-storey?” Yoongi pointed with a nod of his head at the stairs that lead upstairs, something Namjoon had only noticed. “Best room for my best people. Y/n just stays in Taehyung’s guest room. I let my people bring important guests over, they are even allowed to stay as long as they want. Isn’t that great?”

Namjoon about to open his mouth when Yoongi continued. “I know you want to ask why Y/n is an important guest for Taehyung. Well, I’ll let Taehyung himself explain it to you.”

As if on cue, the man Yoongi mentioned appeared with Y/n in tow. Her wet hair and widened eyes upon seeing Namjoon said a lot.

“Well, nice to meet you.” Taehyung’s calloused hand shook Namjoon’s. “I never expected to meet you like this. As you can probably guess, I’m dating Y/n. I’m probably the reason why Y/n likes to go out a lot. But I can assure you, she’s safe more than ever.”

Before Namjoon could say anything, Yoongi said, “Yes. For my most trusted people, I also take great care of the people the love. Y/n is safer here than anywhere.”

To be frank, none of those reassuring reassured Namjoon. He wanted answers from his sister. “No. Y/n, how did you know them? How did you get here? Is home not safe for you?” The last question was rhetorical since Namjoon himself was constantly afraid of Y/n’s safety.

“Bro, I’m an adult.” Y/n took a seat beside him. “I’m gonna be honest with you. I know about Mr. Lee. I know I’m not safe.”

“Then why are you always criticizing me when I’m on my mission to find him?”

“Because, if you do something to him and he catches on, he might do something to us. I’m not scared of your safety because you’re the head of the city’s police department. If you ever go MIA for a few hours, they’d be on the lookout for you. But, what about me? Who’s keeping me safe?”

For once, Namjoon no longer saw Y/n as the little girl who used to follow him everywhere, but as who she was. A grown woman in her mid 20s. A grown woman who spoke sense into him.

Y/n continued, “Taehyung is my boyfriend. I met him during one of his missions in the cafe beside my office. My card kept being declined, then he helped me. And after a few weeks of returning favors, we made it official. Weeks later, he told the truth about everything. Mr. Lee, the coffee shop, and me. I was in denial at first, but everything he said made sense.”

“But why you never listened to my explanation about Mr. Lee?”

“You’re always yelling at me when you’re talking about him. You never once listened to me.” Y/n raised her voice but Namjoon wasn’t phased. He was here for answers, not fights. Especially not with his sister.

“I assume what I said about him aligns with Taehyung’s explanation.”

“Yes. That’s why I deem being with Taehyung is safer.”

“And even if Mr. Lee is captured and killed. You still don’t want to come home? Do you still want to stay here?”

Y/n took a deep inhale. “Yes. But for a different reason.”

“What is that? You love him?”

“Not only that. I’m marrying him.” Y/n grinned at Taehyung who returned her smile with his own. “Whether you like it or not.”

“But our dad wouldn’t want that. Our dad was a good man. He wouldn’t want you to marry a gangster.”

Y/n laughed bitterly. “Our dad is a dead man. Mr. Lee killed him because he ran with his money. If I want revenge on him, it would be because he killed mom in the process.”

Namjoon held back a snort. So Taehyung already told Y/n about dad’s involvement. “So don’t marry Taehyung. For mom,” he finally said.

“I’m marrying him for mom. She wouldn’t want me to marry a backstabber and Taehyung is very loyal.”

Not wanting to think about losing his sister, Namjoon sighed. “Fine. We’ll talk about this later. At home.”

Yoongi clapped his hands once. "Good. Now let’s talk about business.”

***

If he were being honest, he would have expected Yoongi’s office to be on the highest level in the building. Instead, it was on the second floor.

“Would wanna be close to my hostages,” was Yoongi’s answer when he was asked. He sat down on his chair which looked more like a throne.

"You're sick," Namjoon commented, sitting in front of him. Unconsciously describing himself as the lavender smell in Yoongi's room slowly intoxicating him.

Yoongi bursted a laugh. "I'm the most normal mob boss. The others are all freaks and stupid."

Namjoon wanted to beg to differ but stopped himself. There were bigger things to talk about. "Are you not worried at all about showing me all these things?"

"We made a deal," Yoongi replied matter-of-factly.

"I know. But I also know your business."

"Even if the police come, they'll find nothing. I'm clean." Yoongi continued in a whisper, "I know how to hide."

Namjoon rolled his eyes. Of course Yoongi was right, that was part of the reason why his name had been sitting on the wanted list for years. It had been common knowledge that no one could find Yoongi. If one had met him, it was because Yoongi himself approached them first. Namjoon had initially thought it was just a fairytale, meant to scare children. But after seeing Yoongi manifesting in front of him, he started to question his beliefs.

"So, what now?" Namjoon finally asked.

"Let's just skip all the intro, shall we? I want you to cover my back." Yoongi placed a glass in front of Namjoon before pouring a drink into it. "Do you drink?"

"Not in daylight."

"Good. I don't feel like sharing." Yoongi picked up the glass and drank it whole.

"So you were saying?"

"Yeah." The glass clanked as it hit the table. "I have some ships coming, carrying my stuff, I want you to cover my back. If you say yes, I'll bring you to Mr. Lee. If not, you're going home. What do you say?"

"I'm in."

Yoongi was right when he said he wanted to be close to his hostages. He was indeed the closest person to them. The basement, where Yoongi kept all his hostages, was inaccessible from the elevator. There was only one way to get there and it was only through the hidden door in his office. The hidden door then led to yet another elevator.

Yoongi and Taehyung walked out the elevator first, leading the way through the tight, dark corridor to a room with many doors. The rows of doors kind of reminded Namjoon of the 10th floor, except this was less fancy, less lighting, and more cold.

They stopped in front of a random door, or at least what Namjoon thought was random. Taehyung inputted some code and the door unlocked.

"This is the moment you've been waiting for," Yoongi whispered to Namjoon before entering right after Taehyung did.

One thing Namjoon noticed immediately was the man tied to a chair in the middle of the room. He looked nothing like the Mr. Lee he knew. His unkempt beard and receding hairline made him seem older than he actually was. Eyes dropping, signs that he had been here for a while restless. Nevertheless, Mr. Lee had put on a grin on his face, greeting the three of them with yellowing teeth.

“Kim Namjoon, nice to see you,” Mr. Lee said loud and clear as if he was the owner of the place.

“Let’s cut to the chase,” Yoongi says to Namjoon, not even once acknowledging Mr. Lee’s presence nor his words. “Do whatever you want. Taehyung and I will be outside.”

Just as Yoongi and Taehyung were about to step out of the room, Namjoon responded, “No need.”

He pulled his pistol, aimed at Mr. Lee’s grinning face, and pulled the trigger. In his mind, he was already thinking of an excuse for his missing bullet to his superior.

“Wow, that was quick.” Yoongi chuckled followed by Taehyung as they looked at the splatter of blood on the floor. “Call someone to clean up, yeah?”

***

A loud bang woke him up. He scrambled up from his bed before walking out of his room towards the source of the sound. A series of 'fuck fuck fuck' could be heard coming from the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" Namjoon crossed his arms at the sight of his sister facing the stove. "And when did you come back?"

Y/n quickly turned her back and grinned. "I wanted to cook us something. Taehyung drove me here around 11 p.m. You were already asleep."

“Tell Taehyung I say thank you.” Namjoon thought he should probably start to warm up to the young man.

Y/n brimmed. “Will do. I might bring him here in the future so he can properly introduce himself.”

Namjoon snorted. What an extraordinary life he had. “Why are you cooking, though? You can’t cook.”

“I cook because I want to say sorry.” Y/n put the pan on the dining table. “I guess I was wrong about you. I was too harsh. Taehyung told me everything last night, including what you did to Mr. Lee.”

Namjoon felt like his heart might burst from contentment. “I apologize, too. I should’ve seen things from your perspective. I was too rash and reckless.”

“Aww. It’s okay. Everything is okay as long as we’re together.” Y/n ran to him and hugged him tight. Her face was buried on his chest.

Namjoon snaked his arms around her frail shoulders. His nose took on the scent of burnt food on her hair. It had been forever since he had Y/n in his arms. The last time was when Y/n crying from having to let go of their parents too soon. It was nice to finally hug her again on good terms.

***

"What got you all smiling like that?" Seokjin said before gulping down his morning coffee.

The room was too hot for Namjoon, typical Seokjin. But since it was Seokjin's room, he wasn't one to complain.

"The case with Mr. Lee. It's done. I'll write the report soon."

Seokjin's eyes widened. He had been here longer than Namjoon had, hence he was Namjoon's only superior in the department. But during all these years he had spent rotting in his hot sauna-like room, not even once he found the trace of Mr. Lee. "How did you find him?"

A bead of sweat started to form on Namjoon's back he could feel. He really had to leave this room as soon as possible. "He was found dead. I'll explain the rest in the report."

Seokjin leaned forward, afraid that his voice could be heard from outside his room. "Does this have something to do with the missing bullet?" he whispered.

Namjoon shrugged. "Maybe."

As if it was timed, a knock could be heard from outside the room.

"Come in," Seokjin yelled.

The door opened and revealed the new, young police recruit whom Namjoon recognize as Mr. Jeon.

"Someone by the name Ms. Min wants to see Mr. Kim," he said.

Namjoon stood up from his seat. Silently grateful that he had a guest right when he was about to sweat bullets in Seokjin's room. "Bring her to my office. I'll see her right now."

"On it." With that, the young man closed the door.

"Guess I'll talk to you later?" Seokjin asked.

"Yeah. How about lunch?"

"Sure."

Namjoon's office was right beside Seokjin's so it didn't take time to get there. When he opened the door to his office, he was met with a waft of lavender, which reminded him of Yoongi's office back at his headquarters. He suspected the smell was coming from Ms. Min's perfume.

Upon hearing Namjoon walking into the office, Ms. Min stood up from her seat and faced him. Namjoon almost couldn't stop himself from gasping when he saw who wanted to see him.

Ms. Min smiled and extended her hand towards him. "Hi, Mr. Kim. Nice to meet you. I'm Yoonji, Yoongi's sister. I'm here because I have a proposal for you."

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