#JESSICA FICS PLEASE READ
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graaaa being weird in public sorry (on my own blog) teehee
#vent#RAAAAAA does anybodybelse like . Hate a lot of mundane shit in fiction . like just characters being friends or like going to a cafe or like#idk like. going to clothing stores. because i literally cannot do any of that#not even disabled.i just dont have the social skills or confidence or energy every day to do anyrhing outside of my room besides going to#classes. anyway im think about this rlly hard because i read a really normal dbz fic and felt very Othered#LIKE in fiction you dont often see ppl doing everyday stuff. you only see major plot points or fightihg or training or romance or whatever.#its already Out There types of things that ppl dont really do unless they are a main protagonist#as soon as thta character becomes Yeah this is Jessica from my ENG101 class i suddenly feel totally wholly ostracized#imo one of the biggest important things about lit is reading experiences you cant relate to in order to learn and expand your horizons but#but fic isNot lit & i only see 'normal' portrayed in fic because its self indulgent for the author & therefore i see 'normal' as a fic#trope that solely exists to make me feel like a caged animal#i cant even relate to queer experiences because of how deeply closted i am and how ive never ever irl been in a community like that#Rrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa#its not like i even WANT to see fic that verbatim recounts my edgy loner isolated lifestyle. Just stop with the starbucks or quaint#breakfast scenes PLEASE#It hurtsowww Nobody tells you this but pain actually really hurts. and everytime you write 'normal' another bunny/kitty is turned intosyrup
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Justin doesn't die and goes to college like he deserved to :')
#justin foley#13 reasons why#13rw#fanfiction#college au#brandon flynn#please read#if you want#ao3#archive of our own#fanfic#fic#clay jensen#jessica davis
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hiyaa girlyy!! so i have a fic request and it's totally fine if you don't want to write / don't feel comfortable reading or doing it: and also, i'm not sure if someone thought of this yet, but how about spencer just being friends with a stripper. like their are murders ongoing abt strippers and spencer sees reader at one of the crime scènes and everybody's shocked since their sooo sweet and comfortable together? (and bonus point if she wears his jacket or something since it's cold)
thank you for your request! if you have more requests for this pairing please send them my way!
"I tried to call you!"
Hotch looks up from his phone at the shout. He'd been texting Jessica one handed in an attempt to tell her and Jack that he won't be home tonight, and he isn't usually easily startled, but he isn't expecting you to talk to him. Or call him.
He blinks back his fatigue —you're obviously not talking to him. You're almost nondescript in your hoodie, but Hotch isn't confident you're wearing any pants, or underwear. It was a rush job to bring everyone out from the club, and you and the rest of the dancers stand on the sidewalk in various states of undress.
"Can we get some jackets, please?" Hotch asks, turning back to the beat cops standing by. "Thermal blankets? Anything?"
When he turns back, Spencer's not where he was. Hotch casts his gaze back to you near the club doors, your hair messed up from the scuffle but your face intricate and untouched, just as pretty as the rest of your fellow dancers, and doubly so as you throw your arms around Spencer Reid's tall shoulders.
"I'm so glad you're okay," Spencer says, squeezing you hard, your heels lifting off of the rain-sullied sidewalk. "I told you to stay home!"
"I can't stay home, Spencer. How would I make money?"
"I'll pay for the hours you miss, I told you that, too."
"Baby, you couldn't afford it," you tease lightly, setting back down. Your hand immediately rises to Spencer's cheek, your painted nails scratching delicately at his skin. "I've missed you. Where have you been?"
"California, then Albuquerque."
"Killing bad guys?"
Hotch doesn't consider Spencer a lonely guy, and he doesn't think he'd ever be collected enough to enter a strip club, and yet. There he is, hugging and checking over a stripper with as much care and tenderness as he'd show any member of the team. And judging by your smile, you're enamoured with him. Whether romantically or otherwise is anyone's guess.
Morgan's, apparently. "Sorry, I'm sorry, does Reid have a girlfriend? Like, a…?"
"You can say stripper," Emily says, though she's similarly nonplussed. "I mean, there's no way. Right?"
"They're just friends," JJ says.
The team turns to her in betrayal. Clearly, JJ knew about this and said nothing, and Hotch has things to do but this is so thoroughly bizarre that he gives himself five minutes of curiosity; he lets the others berate her for answers.
"Come on, JJ! When did this happen? How did this happen?" Emily asks, her voice dropping to a scandalised whisper.
In the background, Spencer peels out of his jacket that barely fits around your shoulders. You wear it anyhow, wrapping your arm through his and leaning on his shoulder. "Thanks, Dr. Reid."
"I really wish you'd stay home when I tell you too." He rubs your arm amicably.
"Her old boss was a typical heavy-handed sleaze," JJ explains, voice soft with sympathy. "Spence said he used to see her at the grocery store with bruises. She stayed with him for a few days and found a new club… He said she can smile through anything, even a broken wrist."
Hotch understands. This part of Virginia pretends to be better than it is, and while you seem happy enough now in your profession, he knows it can't be easy. Spencer did for you what he would've done for anyone. You've clearly seen the good in him, treating him with a real and easy affection, adoring through shivers as you look up at him and ask, "Are you eating enough? You look tired."
"I'm exhausted worrying about you. You're exhausting. Like, where are the sweatpants I got you? You'll get hypothermia."
"I was trying not to get murdered. You're lucky I grabbed the hoodie." You turn to the team, as though you've known they were watching the entire time. "You wanna introduce me to your friends?" you ask. Hotch detects a hint of insecurity under all your bubbly sweetness.
Spencer laughs loudly, ushering you forward with a hand on your shoulder. "Don't chicken out this time."
"Don't embarrass me in front of the special agents!" you whisper.
"I'm a special agent."
"No, you're a doctor. He's a special agent." Your gaze narrows in on Hotch. "Hi, you're the boss, huh?" You eye his naked marriage finger briefly, and he knows you're kidding, but he still has to fight to stay expressionless as you continue, "How come handsome guys like you don't ever wanna see me dance?"
Hotch puts out his hand. "Aaron Hotchner. It's nice to meet you."
You shake his hand, though you stay as close to Spencer as you can manage without stepping on his shoes. "Right. Too respectful. It's really nice to meet you too, Agent Hotchner. Can you catch the bad guy soon? I'll end up on Spencer's cough again if I don't make rent."
Morgan opens his mouth and Hotch promptly shuts him down with a raised hand. "We will. You have my word."
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader
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Paring: Voice actor!reader x Ollie Bearman
Synopsis: Ollie had always supported his girlfriend in her dreams so when she started voice acting in game he decided to make a series of it on twitch for his veiwer's to enjoy or three Ollie Bearman played his girlfriends games on stream.
Warnings: This is my first fic, I don't really know where I was going with this but yeah, if you have any tips or critiques please let me know, thank you for reading.
When you and Ollie started dating, Ollie took it upon himself to watch all the shows you were in. He couldn’t be prouder of his girlfriend but she had stepped away from shows and gone into to video games. Her more recent games were all in the more darker category. Which Ollie himself was to afraid to go though alone. So when one of his friends suggested making a stream out of it he couldn’t deny it.
Until Dawn (remastered)
Your first video game was called Until dawn you play a character named Ashley, she is one of the eight main characters in the game, so Ollie thought he would give it a go, not wanting to spoil the game for himself he kept away from the trailers and any media to do with the game.
As he played though the game eventually you came and sat next to him causing chat to go wild. As he made his way though the chapters he grew strong opinions on certain characters (Chris) and got attached to characters (Ashley).
He had made it to chapter nine and so far had killed Jessica in the fourth character by not taking the shortcut causing the wendigo to tear her jaw off, and Chris who he swears he did by accident. (you knew it was on purpose by the tone of his voice). Now he was playing as Ashley in chapter nine.
You knew what was coming up and tried to keep the smile off your face as he got to the deciding options.
“What should I do?” Ollie asked looking at you as he noticed your smile. “What are you smiling at?” he added with a nervous laugh following.
“It’s up to you?” You say hiding your face in you knees, so he couldn’t see you face.
“No, no don’t do that." He shook his head as you kept silent. He turned your chair so your body was facing him, you look up to him smiling. “Can you give me a hint?” you shook you head, Ollie let out a sigh and looked at his streams chat.
They were a mixture between going to look for the voice or joining the group. “I guess I should pick” He spoke as he moved the controller to the option to ‘investigate voice’ as soon as it had been selected, you move your chair closer to his.
Ollie turns his head “What? Was the wrong choice?” he asked looking back and forth from your face and the screen. As he walks down the path slowly trying to ready himself for what was to come. He walks over to the trapdoor which he had to open. He looks at your face which is badly concealing a smile at what was to come.
Ollie watched the screen ignoring chat he let out a sigh of relief when nothing was seen “What were-” the sentence was interrupted by his own yell he let out a staring of no’s as he watched in game you get her neck twisted.
His face turned pale when as he watched your body land on the floor as Ashley’s head get thrown to the floor he turns to face you, he grabs the arm of your chair then dragging the chair till it was right next to him.
Then he wrapped his arms around your waist hiding his face in the junction between you shoulder and neck, “You didn’t warn me” He whined. Chat was freaking out at the cute moment they were witnessing.
“It’s a horror game the whole point is to be scared” you pointed out, Ollie shook his head his curls tickling your neck.
The two of you stayed like that for a few more minutes, until Ollie pulled away as he went back to the game he made sure to keep a hold of your hand for the rest of the game.
2. Detroit become human
The next game Ollie wanted to play was similar to Until dawn in the way your choices have consequences. After Until Dawn, Ollie was determined to keep your character alive. Your character, Kara was one of the androids. Your character served another character named Todd and had a daughter figure named Alice.
Ollie decided against streaming this game just wanting to spend time with you, to relax and not have to worry about entertaining an audience, he had you sitting in between his legs leaning against his chest so he head could comfortably rest his head on top of yours. His arms were wrapped around your middle so he could hold the controller and you at the same time. The position made you feel safe as you could hear him muttering the options he could make under your breath.
As Ollie went though the game his hatred for Todd grew. But he was also worried that if he had the option to kill Todd it may end up killing Kara. Which Ollie swore that he wouldn't do.
As Ollie managed to get Kara and Alice out of the house and on to the bus, you could hear his heart beating faster, so you leaned your head up and placed a gentle kiss to the bottom of his jaw, before going back to watching the game.
He had successfully made it to chapter thirteen. He had managed to keep Kara and Alice alive, you watched as Kara and Alice ran into the highway. Ollie though not new to gaming was horrible when it came to QTE’s. So after he failed almost all of them you realized what was bout to show on screen.
You and Ollie both watched as Connor ran onto the road and grab Kara’s arm and try to restrain her, you watched as he managed to fail one QTE but save the other, though it was no way that would save your character.
“Watch out Kara” Alice in game yelled as your character got hit by a bus, Ollie let out an annoyed huff, he had some how managed to kill you again. Then he watched as Alice ran onto the road as the scene changed Ollie moved his head to your ear.
“You need to stop acting as character’s who die, I don’t think my heart can take it” he whispered, you let out a small laugh in reply shaking your head as you stood up.
“Or your just bad at these types of games” You tell him teasingly.
3. The Last Of Us II
The next (and last) game Ollie played of yours was The Last Of Us, he decided to make a series out of streaming it. Your character Abby was one of the protagonists, by this point in time Ollie was some what use to dying as Abby, he knew he wasn’t the best at keeping any character alive.
So as you sat in your shared room watching his streams on the tv, you couldn't help but shake your head as he complained about killing Abby again. The viewer's continuously made fun of the young driver at the amount of time he had died during this one section.
He had eventually called you into the room claiming you were his good luck charm, when really he just missed you. As Ollie got though another fight (barley) he turned to you with a giant smile on his face.
“I did it” he said while putting his hands up in celebration. At this point he was ignoring the cut scene which was happening right behind him. Your smile widened as he opened his arms offering you a spot on his lap, you gratefully took it.
You watched as Ollie continued to progress though the game laughing every time he died much like his viewer's. After Ollie failed to kill a clicker that was chasing him he looked at you playfully annoyed as you laughed.
“If your gonna laugh, then you have to play” he said handing the controller over to the you.
“No, It’s your stream you have to play” You spoke pushing the controlled back while letting out a small laugh.
“No, no if your going to sit there and laugh then you have a go” He told you a fake serious tone.
You shook your head in disagreement but still grabbed the remote deciding to have a shot yourself at the game.
#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 imagine#formula one imagine#formula 1 imagine#ollie bearman x reader#ollie bearman fic
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ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲
Mike Munroe x male reader
Summary: In the eerie sanatorium halls, a Wendigo attack leaves you injured, pushing Mike's protective instincts into overdrive.
Tags: Male reader. He/him pronouns are used towards the reader. Mike and Jess are not together in this. Graphic description of injuries but not too deep. Angst. Happy ending. Heavy make out session.
You can consider this a part 2 of the fist fic i wrote for Mike but it can easily be read as a standalone. Thank you all so much for all the comments and likes on my first Mike Munroe story! Now I have an excuse to write more for him ☜(⌒▽⌒)☞
𝔅𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔶 𝔰𝔲𝔭𝔭𝔬𝔯𝔱
𝔉𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢'𝔰 𝔞 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔪
𝔗𝔴𝔬 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬𝔤𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯
𝔄 𝔱𝔬𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢
𝔍𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔶 𝔞𝔱 𝔅𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔴𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔐𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫
𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥 Part 2 of it
Words counts: 4000
Can also be found on wattpad and ao3
The oppressive darkness of the sanatorium clung to every corner, the air thick with the stench of rot and decay. Your footsteps echoed faintly as you and Mike moved cautiously through the long, decaying hallway.
Mike was ahead, gritting his teeth as he wrestled with the stubborn door of the room that held a shotgun and ammunition inside. He was trying everything. Shouldering it, kickin it, using his weight to force it open, but it wouldn't budge. The door was rusted and seemed to be mocking his attempts to open it.
"Come on, you piece of shit," Mike growled under his breath, slamming his shoulder against the door again with a frustrated grunt. His breath came out in harsh puffs, fogging in the cold air.
You stood a few feet behind, your eyes flickered nervously around. Every distant creak or scrape set your nerves on edge. You couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching, lurking just beyond the reach of your flashlight.
A faint voice echoed from down the hallway. "Help... please... help me." It was Jessica's voice. Your heart skipped a beat, confusion and fear swirling inside you. Jessica? You thought she was dead.
"Mike, did you hear that?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, already taking a few hesitant steps toward the source of the sound.
Mike's eyes narrowed as he tried to focus on the task at hand. "What? No. I didn't- wait, what did you hear?" He glanced over his shoulder, but you were already moving down the hallway, drawn toward the voice that called out again, more desperate this time.
"Help me, please!" Jessica's voice cracked with pain, and your mind raced. You moved quicker, following the sound into a side room, your flashlight shaking in your trembling hand.
It couldn't be real. It wasn't possible. But the voice was so familiar, so desperate, that you couldn't stop yourself from moving toward it. Your legs seemed to act on their own, driven by a faint hope that somehow, Jessica had survived.
The voice came again, more desperate this time. "Help... please..."
Your heartbeat thundered in your ears as you moved cautiously into the room. The floor was littered with debris, broken furniture, shards of glass, and piles of crumbling wood. The walls were covered in mold, and the air smelled of damp rot.
"Jessica?" you whispered, your voice shaking slightly as you scanned the room. "Jess... where are you?"
The voice, once a call for help, turned into a twisted, distorted mimicry of Jessica's scream.
A figure dropped down from a broken window above. The Wendigo landed with a sickening thud, its bones pressing grotesquely against its pale skin.
The remnants of torn and dirty clothes still clung to its body, a reminder of the human it once was. Its face, a twisted mess of teeth and sinew, sniffed the air, its milky-white eyes darting around the room, searching for movement.
They're blind, they only see those who move.
The creature's head snapped to the left, its limbs twitching unnervingly as it started to replicate Jessica's voice again. "Help me. help..."
The mimicry was perfect, the voice identical to Jessica's, but there was something horribly wrong with the way it was spoken now that you heard it up close. It was hollow, empty, as though it was toying with the memory of the girl you had once known.
You didn't dare to move.
You didn't even breathe.
It was close now, inches from you, its breath hot and rancid against your skin. You could hear the crackle of its joints, the faint click of its jaws as they opened and closed, tasting the air.
Just when you thought the creature would tear you apart, the deafening blast of a shotgun shattered the tense silence. The Wendigo's body jerked violently as the shotgun's impact threw it against the wall with bone-shattering force. The creature let out a shriek, the noise echoing through the room.
"Don't you fucking dare touch him!" Mike's voice rang out, fierce and raw with emotion. He stood in the doorway, shotgun still smoking in his hands, eyes blazing with fury.
He was at your side instantly, his hand grabbing yours and he yanked you out of the room with a sense of urgency. "Run!" he commanded, and together, you bolted down the hallway, your heart pounding in your chest.
You could hear the Wendigos now, their guttural snarls and skittering movements echoing through the corridors.
"I swear, if you ever do something that stupid again, I'll-" Mike began, his voice tight with fear, but before he could finish, another Wendigo screech from behind you.
It was gaining on you both, its skeletal form moving unnervingly fast as it closed the distance. It leaped at Mike, its claws outstretched, aiming to tear him apart.
"Mike!" you screamed as the creature tackled him. Mike grunted as he used the weapon as a makeshift shield, blocking the Wendigo's swipes as they slashed toward his face. The Wendigo screeched, its jagged teeth gnashing together as it tried to claw its way through the weapon. Mike grunted, his muscles straining as he shoved the creature back, the shotgun rattling in his hands.
Its claws raked against the shotgun as it was knocked out of his hands in the process. The weapon skidded across the floor, out of reach, as the creature lunged at Mike again, pinning him to the ground.
For a terrifying moment, you saw the Wendigo's claws hovering inches above Mike's throat, its grotesque mouth open wide as it prepared to strike. Without thinking, you grabbed the machete that had fallen from Mike's belt and charged forward, your heart racing as you swung the blade with all your strength.
The machete barely cut through the thick skin of the Wendigo's head, but it stopped moving. The creature collapsed on top of Mike, its lifeless body twitching.
Mike let out a breathless grunt, shoving the body off him with a groan, his chest heaving from the effort as he turned to look at you.
Mike's eyes were wide, his face a mixture of shock and gratitude. He ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair.
"Holy shit," Mike breathed. "You saved my ass." His voice was thick with emotion, his usual cocky smirk absent as he stared at you in awe.
Mike's gaze softened, his lips parting as a slow, proud grin spread across his face. The adrenaline still pumped through his veins. You had saved him. You had fought for him. And now, as he lay there on the ground, bruised and battered, he couldn't help but feel a surge of possessiveness and admiration.
How did I get so lucky?
Mike's thoughts raced as his eyes traced over your form, taking in the way you stood, strong and capable and in that moment, with you standing over him, your chest rising and falling with exertion, sweat glistening on your skin, he wanted nothing more than to pull you down to him, to feel you against him. He imagined pulling you close, his hands wandering, his lips finding yours, desperate and hungry.
"You're incredible, man" Mike said, his voice softer now, more intimate. "I mean... I always knew you were tough, but that-"
He was cut short when the sound of another window breaking snapped him back to reality.
Another Wendigo burst through it, moving with a terrifying speed. Its claws were outstretched, eyes wide and blind, as it lunged directly for you. The machete slipped from your grasp, clattering uselessly to the ground as the creature slammed into you, knocking you off your feet.
You hit the floor hard, the impact knocking the wind from your lungs. The Wendigo's claws raked across your side, leaving a fiery slash that tore through your flesh. You cried out, clutching your side as blood soaked through your shirt.
"NO!" Mike screamed, his voice raw with terror as he scrambled for the shotgun. The Wendigo grabbed you by the leg, its claws sinking into your skin as it began to drag you toward the window.
You thrashed against the creature's grip, panic flooding your senses. The pain from your wounds made it hard to focus. The Wendigo's strength was overwhelming, its bony fingers tightening around your leg as it pulled you closer to the jagged glass of the broken window. The debris on the floor slashing your skin in the process.
Mike was on his feet in an instant, the shotgun in his hands as he sprinted toward you, firing wildly at the wendigo. He kept shooting, missing a few times, the desperation clear in his voice as he cursed under his breath.
Your vision blurred from the pain, your limbs heavy and weak as you tried to fight back.
"Get off him!" Mike roared, his voice full of desperation as he fired again, this time hitting the creature square in the chest. The impact sent the Wendigo stumbling backward, its grip on you loosening just enough for Mike to reach you.
With a grunt of effort, Mike grabbed your arm, yanking you back to your feet and into the room. You collapsed onto the floor, your body trembling from the pain and adrenaline while Mike closed the door.
He was at your side in an instant, his hands hovering over your wounds, his face pale with fear.
They were deep. Three long, jagged cuts across your back, blood pooling beneath you.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Mike cursed under his breath. His hands were shaking as he pressed them against the gashes in your side, trying to stem the bleeding, but there was so much blood.
The pain was unbearable, but seeing Mike like this hurt even more.
"Jesus, this is bad. God, I'm such an idiot." he muttered, his voice trembling.
You groaned in pain, the agony in your side intensifying with each passing second.
"Mike..." you croaked, trying to get his attention, but he wasn't listening. His hands were still pressing desperately against your wounds, blood staining his fingers as he kept cursing under his breath.
"This is my fault. I should've-fuck, I'm so fucking stupid. Why did I let you come here? Why didn't I-"
"Mike, stop..." you whispered, your voice weak from the pain.
But he wouldn't stop. He was spiraling, the guilt consuming him as he rocked back on his heels, his eyes glassy with unshed tears.
"We need to get out of here," Mike muttered to himself, his voice strained with desperation. He looked down at your injured form, his gaze flicking between your pale face and the blood soaking through your clothes.
The Wendigos were still out there and you were in no condition to run. Mike's mind raced as he tried to think of anything, anywhere, that might offer some kind of safety. His eyes darted toward the hallway as he recalled the old map he had found earlier, remembering the position of the nursery.
"There might be something there," he mumbled, more to himself than to you.
He leaned down and scooped you into his arms, cradling you as if you weighed nothing. You winced at the sudden movement, the pain in your side flaring up, but Mike's grip was steady, firm, holding you as if he was afraid to let go. He held you close, bridal style, your body pressed against his warm and sturdy chest as he began to move.
"I've got you" he muttered, his voice barely audible over the sound of your labored breathing.
His heart pounded in his chest as he carried you down the darkened hallways, the dim light of the flashlight casting long, eerie shadows across the walls. Every creak of the floorboards, every distant sound seemed like a threat, and Mike's grip on you tightened with each step. He refused to let you go.
"Just hold on," Mike said through gritted teeth, his eyes darting around the narrow hallways as he moved cautiously.
Your head rested against his chest, and you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It was pounding hard, faster than usual, fueled by adrenaline and fear. The pain in your side had dulled to a throbbing ache, and you couldn't help but notice how tense Mike's body was, every muscle coiled like a spring ready to snap.
"Mike" you managed to rasp out, the pain making your voice hoarse. "You're... freaking out."
"I'm not freaking out," he snapped, but the slight tremor in his voice betrayed him. He swallowed hard, his gaze flicking back to the path ahead, "I just... I need to get you fixed up. I need to-"
"Mike" You reached up, your hand weakly brushing against his chest, trying to calm him. "I'm not dying."
He didn't respond immediately, and when he did, his voice was low and shaky. "You don't know that."
You tried to force a smile, though it hurt to do so. "I've had worse."
"Yeah? When was the last time you were clawed by a fucking monster?" His eyes darted to yours, his fear masked by frustration. "You're bleeding all over the place, and it's my fault.
"It's not your fault," you said softly, trying to catch his gaze. "I chose to come with you"
"And I shouldn't have let you," Mike muttered, more to himself than to you. "I should've made you stay behind."
"You know I wouldn't have stayed behind," you replied, a weak smile tugging at your lips. "You can't get rid of me that easily."
His jaw clenched, and he didn't respond, his eyes fixed forward as he continued down the hallway, his arms never loosening their hold on you.
You didn't know how bad the injury was, but the blood that soaked through your clothes was enough to tell you it wasn't good.
You felt the world spinning slightly as he moved, your vision blurring at the edges. It was getting harder to stay awake, harder to keep focused on anything but the searing pain in your side. The sounds of the sanatorium echoed around you. All you could hear was the frantic beat of Mike's heart against your chest.
Your eyelids felt impossibly heavy. "Mike..." you whispered, your voice barely audible.
He snapped his head down to look at you, eyes wide and desperate. "Don't. Don't you dare close your eyes," he growled, his voice rough with panic. His arms tightened around you, almost painfully so, as he quickened his pace. "Stay with me, damn it. Stay awake. You hear me? You're not going anywhere."
But it was so hard to focus. The exhaustion was pulling you under like a heavy tide, dragging you down into the dark. Your eyelids fluttered, and you heard Mike curse again, his breath hitching. "Hey! No, no, no. Look at me. Look at me!" His voice was sharper now, laced with fear. "Stay awake. We're almost there. I swear, we're almost there."
The strain in his voice pulled you back, just for a moment, and you forced your eyes to open a little wider. His face was set in a scowl, but his eyes were wild, desperate.
Mike finally reached the nursery. It was a small, decrepit room, the paint on the walls peeling, and the furniture broken and scattered.
Mike set you down on one of the dirty beds as gently as he could, his hands trembling slightly as he pulled away. You winced again, the movement sending another sharp wave of pain through your body, but you forced yourself to stay quiet.
He hurried to the other side of the room, his eyes scanning the shelves and cabinets for anything that might help. He found an old, dusty first aid kit, half-hidden beneath a pile of debris.
Mike knelt beside you, his hands still shaking as he opened the kit. Inside were a few old bandages, a small bottle of alcohol and a torn-up sheet that he could use as makeshift bandages. He tore the fabric with his teeth.
It wasn't much, but it was all he had.
The silence between the two of you was heavy as he peeled off your shirt. Mike's hands hovered over your wounds, his face twisted in concentration at the deep gashes torn into your side.
He poured the alcohol onto the wounds, the stinging sensation making you clench your teeth to keep from crying out. He was doing his best to be gentle, but the pain was still excruciating.
"Shit... sorry... I'm sorry," Mike kept repeating under his breath, his eyes flicking between the injuries and your face. He looked as though he was about to break, his guilt consuming him.
"If you wanted to get my shirt off, all you had to do was ask." You said, your voice soft despite the pain radiating through your side.
He didn't smile, didn't give you that sarcastic comeback you had been hoping for. His jaw was still set, his lips pressed into a thin line as he focused on wrapping the gauze around your waist.
"Don't joke about this," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "You're bleeding everywhere, and I-"
"I'm serious!" you interrupted, forcing a grin through the pain. "If you wanted to play the hero, you could've just asked. You didn't have to engage in a whole monster attack just to impress me."
He refused to look you in the eye, his jaw clenched as he muttered something under his breath, too quiet for you to make out.
You saw the fear and guilt etched into his face. He was scared. More scared than you'd ever seen him before. His focus was singular, driven by the overwhelming need to fix the damage, to keep you alive.
The usual cocky, confident air that surrounded Mike was gone, replaced by a quiet panic that seemed to consume him.
You knew you had to say something. Mike was drowning in guilt, and if you didn't pull him out of it, he might never forgive himself.
Time to try again.
"Come on, Mike," you said, your tone playful despite the situation. "You're not enjoying the fact that I'm shirtless in front of you? I thought this was, like, your dream scenario. You, me, a creepy sanatorium, and a lot of body contact."
You were expecting at least a flicker of amusement, a quirk of the lips, anything that showed he was still the Mike you knew. But there was nothing. His silence only made the fear gnaw at you more.
Your hand reached out to gently touch his arm. "Mike, I'm serious. You saved me. You're the reason I'm still here, okay?"
His shoulders tensed under your touch, and he finally looked up at you, his expression conflicted. You could see the guilt still etched into his features, the self-loathing that twisted his mouth into a grimace.
"But you still got hurt," Mike snapped, his voice rising slightly with the weight of his emotions. His hands clenched into fists, the bandage half-finished as he pulled away, unable to look at you. "I wasn't fast enough. I should've... I should've done more."
"Done more?" You raised an eyebrow, trying to inject a little more lightness into your voice. "What were you supposed to do, Mike? Punch the Wendigo in the face? Because I'd like to see that."
For a brief moment, you thought you saw the ghost of a smile tug at the corner of his lips, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.
"Hey," you said softly, reaching out again to touch his arm, this time gripping it a little tighter. "Look at me."
He hesitated, his jaw tightening, but after a moment, he turned his head toward you, his eyes meeting yours.
"I'm still here," you said quietly, your voice filled with as much reassurance as you could muster. "Thanks to you."
Mike's eyes flickered with something, some internal struggle playing out behind them.
"For a guy who spends half his time flexing and trying to show off his heroics," you began, leaning back slightly on the bed, wincing a little as the pain in your side flared up. "You're really bad at taking credit when you actually save someone."
That got a reaction. Mike's brows furrowed slightly, and he glanced at you, confusion mixed with frustration.
"I'm just saying," you continued, pretending to be casual as you gestured with your hand, the blood on it had now dried up. "You've got the whole 'tough guy' thing down, but when you actually do something heroic, like, I don't know, saving my life, you act like it wasn't enough."
Mike's frown deepened, but this time there was a spark of something familiar in his eyes, something like the Mike you knew.
"Not everything is a joke, okay?" Mike muttered, though there was a hint of exasperation in his voice now.
You grinned. "I know it's not a joke, Mike. I'm just trying to remind you that you're not a screw-up. I know you're used to making dumb decisions, but this wasn't one of them."
For a brief moment, Mike looked like he was going to argue, but then he let out a quiet, exasperated huff. His lips twitching in a way that told you he was fighting back a smirk.
"There he is," you teased lightly, your grin widening. "I knew you were still in there somewhere."
Mike's shoulders relaxed slightly, and for the first time since the attack, his expression softened. He shook his head, finally finishing the bandage on your side. The corner of his lips tugged upward as he tried to suppress a smile, a trace of his usual cocky confidence returning.
"You're an idiot," Mike muttered, but there was a warmth in his voice that hadn't been there before. He met your eyes again, the weight of the guilt starting to lift.
"I had to learn from the best," you shot back playfully. "You're pretty good at being an idiot yourself."
Mike chuckled softly, a sound that sent warmth through your chest despite the pain. "Yeah, well... guess I can't argue with that."
You leaned back against the pillow, the tension in the room finally easing. Mike's usual sarcastic demeanor was starting to slip back into place.
"I never really thought I'd spend a night in a creepy-ass sanatorium being patched up by a guy who probably spent his teenage years trying to impress girls with bad one-liners." You said, trying to keep the conversation going.
Mike snorted, shaking his head. "First of all, my one-liners were legendary. They even had you blushing when I dropped them on you. Second, I'm pretty sure I'm saving your life right now, so maybe a little more appreciation, huh?"
"Oh, believe me, I appreciate it," you replied with a grin. "But you have to admit, this is pretty far from a normal night out."
"Yeah, well, normal's overrated," Mike said, his tone lighter now. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, his eyes lingering on the bandage he had just finished tying around your waist. "But... seriously. I'm glad you're okay."
That fear hadn't fully left him yet.
"I'm okay because of you." you said, your voice softer now, more serious. You sat on the bed, looking up at him and wrapping your arms around his neck.
Your lips were sealed tight so you wouldn’t produce any sound of the pain still lingering.
Mike met your gaze again, his expression conflicted, torn between the guilt that still lingered and the relief that you were alive. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. Instead, he just stared at you, his eyes dark with emotion.
Without warning, he leaned down, his hands gripping your face with a force that nearly made you gasp. His lips crashed into yours with a desperation that took you completely by surprise. The kiss was rough, almost violent in its intensity, his breath was hot and ragged, each exhale trembling with the intensity of the emotions he was trying to keep in check.
His tongue pushed past your lips with an almost feral hunger. The roughness of his tongue mirrored the intensity of his kiss, his movements sharp and demanding, as if he couldn't get close enough to you, couldn't feel enough of you. His tongue explored your mouth, not gently, but with a wild fervor that made your heart race and your body tremble under him.
You responded instinctively, your arms tightening around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, your body aching yet craving the connection he was giving you. His weight pressed down on you more as the kiss deepened.
His breath grew hotter, more frantic. His fingers tightened on your skin, almost painful, like he was terrified to let go, his tongue still working against yours, desperate to drown out any space between you. You could feel his desperation in every frantic breath, his rough kisses stealing away any sense of time as he devoured you.
His hands slipping from your face to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, needing more.
Needing you.
You could feel the heat of his breath as he pulled back only for a fraction of a second before diving back in, his lips pressing into yours with renewed force.
Your lungs burned as the kiss deepened further, but you didn't care. All you could focus on was him. On the raw, unfiltered emotion in every press of his lips, every tremor of his hands. Mike's hands roamed your body, careful to avoid your injury, but firm enough to hold you in place. His breath was hot against your skin as he kissed you with a kind of hunger that sent shivers down your spine.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you gasping for breath. His eyes were dark, clouded with emotion, his lips slightly swollen from the intensity of the kiss. His hands still cradled your face, thumbs brushing softly against your skin as though trying to calm himself after the storm he had unleashed.
His breath was shaky, his body trembling slightly as he looked at you with a mixture of relief. "I promise. I won't let anything happen to you." he whispered, his voice hoarse.
No matter what would happen next, you had Mike. And Mike had you.
And that was enough.
If you liked this story please leave a comment, I love reading them <3. Next week I think I’m gonna post a Mike Munroe jealous fic with smut! Hope you’ll like it ♡
#mike munroe x male reader#mike munroe x reader#mike munroe#mike monroe x male reader#mike monroe x reader#mike monroe#until dawn x male reader#until dawn x reader#until dawn#we need more male reader stuff#bottom male reader#x male reader#male reader#x bottom male reader#male!reader#emily davis#jess riley#jessica riley#ashley brown#chris hartley#josh washington#sam giddings#matt taylor#brett dalton#brett dalton x reader#angst#make out#happy ending#gay#mlm
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Okay I came up with this at work because I was left alone with my thoughts for 10 hrs.
Imagine a feyd x single mom reader except the baby is Paul’s. Reader used to be a servant in caladan and eventually her and Paul messed around, she approached lady Jessica in confidence for help but instead got sold off because Paul getting a servant girl pregnant was not part of her plan. Later feyd kinda saves reader from the a-hole who bought her but in reality he was there to kill the guy for betraying the baron and saw reader and decided he wanted her. He finds out she’s already pregnant but instead of killing her of getting rid of her he kinda hides her away so he can have his own secret lil family (maybe as a way to cope with the childhood that was stolen from him). Feyd has his harpies protect and hide her and the baby and over time the girls bond (baby is having the worlds most protective and feral aunties). Eventually reader tell feyd who the baby’s dad is and explains how she ended up at the a-holes house. Feyd finds the situation hilarious but still decides to protect reader and raise the baby as his own (not really out of love but more as a jab at Paul like haha I have your toys but they do eventually grow to care about each other, maybe not love but definitely a codependency). When the baby is born he immediately becomes attached to her (I must protect this tiny creature) which is a new emotion to him.For a couple of years baby girl grows up seeing feyd as her dad. Eventually the events of dune happen and right before Paul is about to stab him, feyd says something along the lines “ go ahead and kill me in front of your daughter”. Paul is understandingly confused until a lil 4-5 year old comes running out to feyd screaming daddy and using the voice to make Paul back off. Everyone can instantly see who her biological father is since she has his hair, eyes and is able to use the voice. Feyd would definitely have a shit eating grin when Paul learns that his mother is the reason his daughter grew up without him. Paul tries to approach her but she turns her head and says to feyd “daddy I wanna go home” and Paul’s heart just breaks at the realization that he lost his daughter before he even knew about her. Paul can’t kill Feyd since he would loose his daughter even more and they basically create a custody agreement where Paul can come and visit her every month.
Please if someone turns this into a fic tag me so I can read🙏
Edit: I am planning on writing this out but give me some time since it will be my first fanfic since high school
@dreamlandcreations @triluvial @austinbutlerslovers @sansaorgana @purejasmine @sebastianswallows
Update
I finally had time to start writing this and although it’s my first fic I’m really proud of it. I ended up making a second account with the intent to only post fics there to make things easier for myself. If you’re interested in reading I’ll add a link under this.
#austin butler x reader#feyd imagine#feyd rautha#feyd rautha x reader#dune movie#timothee chalamet x reader#paul atreides x reader
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The Stress of a Case
Harvey Specter x Female Reader
Please Read: Hello! It's been a hot minute since I have published anything. Have been currently studying for my LSATS and have been a busy bee but after being obsessed with Suits for the past 2 years and waiting for more Harvey stories to be published I decided to create my own little storyline. What started off as a storyline in my head is now on paper. I have this idea to create a mini-story/universe: how the reader got hired, when she first met Mike, her first case with Harvey, her first date with Harvey, etc. I guess I just want to see if people are interested. It's been a while since I had written anything that wasn't an academic paper and my writing skills have changed drastically. This is one of the first the fics of the universe I am building in my head that I have written so I decided to publish this. I hope yall enjoy it, please give feedback.
Warnings: Talks about not eating (due to stress), food mention, panic attack details, fainting, Harvey being an ass, cursing I think? if I am missing anything please let me know
Word count: 5.6k
Taglist: @happy74827 @princessvader15 @hashcakes @yiiiikesmish @malfoys-demigod
I tagged those who commented under my last post I hope that's okay and if you aren't interested in being tagged let me know and I will remove you sorry.
As you entered the corridors of Pearson Hardman, they were alive with the usual buzz of legal minds at work, but this time, a distinct tension hung in the air. You didn't even get a few steps into the associates area before hearing the straining voice of Louis Litt yelling that there was an emergency meeting.
You scrambled behind, stuffing your mouth with the banana nut muffin you thought you would eat peacefully at your desk this morning. You knew what this meeting was about, everyone knew. The case against Amir Jackson, the firm's ex-lawyer turned adversary, had everyone on edge.
The briefing room was filled with hushed whispers as everyone settled in, and even the confident strides of Harvey Specter and Louis Litt carried a subtle weight.
Harvey, impeccably dressed as always, stood at the head of the conference table, his piercing gaze flickering between Jessica Pearson and the gathered associates, and maybe it was your imagination but it might have lingered a little longer on you. Snapped out of your imagination when he spoke, "Listen up, people. This case is different. Amir Jackson knows us inside out, and he won't hesitate to use that knowledge against us. He's playing dirty, and we need to be ready for anything."
You never got to meet Amir Jackson, but oh the stories. The firm had no problem doing what they needed to do to be successful, but there was a line they never dared cross and Amir crossed it.
Jessica leaned forward, her hands planted firmly on the table. "Amir's betrayal when he left this firm was bad enough. Now, he's trying to take a piece of us with him. We can't let that happen."
Louis chimed in. "I've seen my fair share of dirty plays, but this guy is in a league of his own. We need to be one step ahead, or he'll bury us."
The gravity of the situation was sinking in, associates exchanged knowing glances. They understood the magnitude of the challenge ahead. Amir Jackson wasn't just a legal opponent; he was a former comrade who knew their strengths and weaknesses intimately. The fact that there was a meeting needing to be held just told how much this case was about to get tricky. Usually the inner circle dealt with these cases: Harvey, Louis, Jessica, Mike and maybe sometimes Rachel.
Your role as the go-to person for legal paperwork kept you in the thick of it. While Harvey Specter had his famed right-hand man in Mike Ross, he knew he could rely on you for drafting contracts with a precision that went beyond mere proficiency.
You might not have been Harvey's drinking buddy or his confidant like Mike, but there was a unique dynamic between you both. It was a quiet understanding that transcended the formalities of the workplace. You knew you would never be his protege, and that was perfectly fine with you. What you brought to the table was a specialized skill set that complemented Harvey's legal prowess, if you do say so yourself.
His voice thundered through the briefing room as he adjusted his cuffs, “I am building a specific legal team to help bring down Amir Jackson”.
Of coure Harvey was going to pick Mike Ross, Mike was worth more than 8 associates. How much more help does he need? Who else could he need? Harvey's eyes scanned the room filled with associates. His gaze settled on you, and he flashed a sly grin. "You, Y/N. You're on my team for this one.”
Harvey and you had worked together various times. He always knew he could count on you for legal paperwork. As much as he depended on Mike Ross, there was one thing you were that Mike wasn’t and that was that you had a talent when it came to drafting contracts. But I believe that there was some respect, one might even say in a blossoming friendship between you and him. You got a spark of it when he teasingly picked you out of the bunch of associates to be part of his team for his takedown of Amir Jackson.
“You know, Y/N, if paperwork were an Olympic sport, you'd be a gold medalist," Harvey remarked with a wry grin, “And I expect you to bring the gold home for Pearson Hardman”
“I won’t let you down Sir”, you gave a weak smile as all eyes were on you.
You hated the attention, yet you couldn’t help the small heat you felt on our cheeks as Harvey stared at you. Drawn to playing with the bracelet you wore as you slightly cringed at yourself for the words that came out of your mouth. Sir? Really. Stupid, you thought.
Harvey moved past it and called out the name of 2 more associates and asked if anyone else wanted in on the case had to draw up a proposal. He only wanted the best of the best and trust him, he would get the best of the best.
You made your way to Harvey’s office as the meeting was dismissed. And you reminisce on the first time Harvey complimented on your legal work.
“ Are you a sorcerer”, Harvey asked as he made his way to your cubicle. It was late one night and you were stuck on an email. You had this need to overachieve and be perfect and it showed in everything you did. But if you were being honest it was exhausting.
You glanced up, raising an eyebrow. "Well, Harvey, someone has to make sure the i's are dotted and the t's are crossed. Can't let you walk into a negotiation with a misplaced comma, now can we?"
You don’t know what has gotten into you. Maybe it's the lack of sleep or the fact that you had 4 coffees. But the confidence was there and to your surprise, Harvey chuckled.
You swear you saw a twinkle in his eye as he responded, "You're practically the Mozart of legal documents. I half expect those contracts to start singing a symphony when I open them."
You smirked, setting aside the email you were currently writing, swiveling your chair to face him, "If you want a soundtrack to your legal victories, Harvey, I'm sure I can find a way to make that happen."
He tilted his head, a playful glint in his eyes. "Now that's the kind of innovation I like to see. Who needs background music at a negotiation? Just cue in Y/N legal masterpiece."
You couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the idea. "I'll be sure to add it to the list of services I provide, Harvey. Background music, legal counsel, and a dash of flair."
Harvey straightened up, his signature confidence in full force. "Flair is your middle name, isn't it? The 'Legal Maestro with a Touch of Flair.' Has a nice ring to it."
You rolled your eyes, feigning exasperation. "I'll have to update my business cards. But let's be honest, Harvey, you appreciate the flair. It's what sets my paperwork apart from the rest."
Harvey smirked, leaning in. "You're not wrong. But don't let it get to your head. I can't have you drafting contracts with a crown on, declaring yourself the Queen of Legal Documents." He turned to leave right after and you could have sworn you were asleep and that any moment now you would wake up from this dream.
You yelled out, “Don't worry, Harvey. I'll keep the royal proclamations to a minimum. Wouldn't want to overshadow your crown as the King of Closing Deals." And you could have sworn he let out a hearty laugh from down the hall.
“Y/N, nice of you to join us”, Harvey said. Jessica and Mike were already in the room as the other associates were already screaming. They had been given their assignments and were off to work.
“What can I do”, you spoke above a whisper, feeling small as the eyes were all on you. Jessica knew your history, she knew you struggled to be the shark of a lawyer you could be. But she hired you anyway, your interview with her wasn't the best. But she saw something in you, something that reminded her of herself when she was starting off. She was gonna build and mold you to a shark. But for now she let you be. A shark wasn’t born overnight.
“ I need one of your flawless contracts for Amir. I need no loopholes. Nothing he can use against us”, Harvey spoke in a harsher tone then he meant.
All you could do was nod your head and swiftly leave the room to do the research needed. Leaving Mike, Harvey and Jessica to chatter. As you walked down the corridor you saw Louis making his way to Harvey’s office with Rachel in tow. All hands on deck indeed, you thought to yourself.
The first night working on that draft through the dim glow of the late-night office lights illuminated your determined face. The rhythmic tapping of the keyboard was accompanied by the occasional crunch of Hot Cheetos.
Proud of your work, you compiled the neatly typed pages and confidently walked over to Harvey Specter's desk. As you placed the document in the designated spot, you felt relief wash over you. It’s currently 2:00 am, no one is here but you but you really wanted to prove your worth.
With only 5 hours asleep, the next day, you walked into the office, a little pep in your step. You made yourself some crappy coffee. And were about to head into the bullpen.
Harvey, engrossed in his own work the minute he stepped into the office, took a moment to glance at the papers. His stern expression, usually unreadable, twisted into a scowl as he noticed a small Hot Cheeto stain near the corner of the document. And called you down to his office. Your pep was gone once you heard his tone of voice as he called your name. Turning on your heel you headed towards his office. Donna was expecting you and let you by. One foot through the door is as far as you got before Harvey had something to say.
"Do you see this?" Harvey's voice was sharp pointing at the small stain.
Panicking slightly, you stammered, "I'm sorry, Harvey. I must have missed that." It was an easy fix, just print another copy, you thought to yourself making a mental note.
Harvey's gaze shifted from the stain to the content of the contract. He began circling errors with a red pen, his frustration apparent. "And these mistakes? This is what you place on my desk and yet it isn't up to my expectations”.
As he pointed out the errors, your pride in their work crumbled. The Hot Cheeto stain seemed to just make Harvey go on a power trip.. Each correction felt like a blow,"I expect better from you," Harvey remarked, his tone cold and unforgiving.
You nodded, unable to muster a response. Maybe the growing friendship you thought of was truly in your head. As Harvey returned to his own work, you retreated to their desk, determined to rectify the mistakes.
You admit your first draft wasn't the best. And you shouldn't have eaten near the paperwork. You were currently starving as you finished up the last paragraph. It’s been 6 hours since Harvey scolded you but this draft was perfect. And after you turned it in you were going to treat yourself to a nice dinner. Probably the Mexican place down the road. You were zoned in for the past 6 hours. This was the only case you were working on and it needs all your attention. But your attention was quickly zoned into the associate that was stumbling through the door.
Mike comes waltzing in, barely having any balance. You and Mike haven't really talked much. But he didn't look well.
“ Hey, Mike. You okay?" you asked, concerned in your voice.
Mike attempted a nonchalant smile, but the wavering balance gave away his inebriated state. "Yeah, just...you know, a little tired."
Observing Mike closely, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the story. "Are you sure about that?"
Mike hesitated before confessing, "Okay, fine. Maybe a bit more than tired. Harvey and I went to meet someone about the Amir Jackson case, and things got a bit...out of hand with the drinks"
Your concern shifted to a mix of annoyance and frustration. While you had been tirelessly working on the second version of the contract, Harvey and Mike were out getting drunk. "Seriously, Mike? We have a case to win, and you two are out here partying?"
Mike scratched his head, a sheepish grin on his face. "We thought it was a good idea at the time. Maybe it was a bit impulsive."
Determined to express their frustration, you headed towards Harvey's office, the door slightly opened,. Knocking lightly, you entered and handed Harvey the second draft of the contract. The faster you gave it to him the faster you could leave.
"Here's the updated version, Harvey," you said, trying to mask your annoyance. After all, he is still the boss.
You sped walked out of there and back to your cubicle. Mike was there still, with his head on his desk.
“Go ask Donna for some pain killers, you still have a long night ahead of you”, you told him.
Mike just nodded and stumbled as he stood up to go to Donna. You were packing your bags, ready to call it an early night. When your computer dinged. You sat down to respond to an email quickly when you felt the tension of the bullpen change drastically.
“What is this, Y/N ?" Harvey's tone was sharp, his blue eyes piercing into mine.
You frowned, confused by the unexpected hostility. "It's the contract you asked for, Harvey. I double-checked everything, and it's all in order."
He scoffed, he took out a red marker from his pocket and started circling stuff with his red marker again, "This is subpar, even for an associate. I don't have time for amateur hour."
You felt a knot tighten in your stomach, a mix of frustration and disbelief. "Harvey, I don't understand. I followed the protocol, and the contract is flawless. What's the issue?"
He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, cutting tone. "Flawless? If this is your definition of flawless, we're in trouble. I need precision, not this half-baked attempt at legal work."
The comments were like a punch to the gut. Harvey's relentless standards were known, but this seemed different. You couldn't fathom what had triggered such a harsh reaction. Was he too tipsy? Doubt crept into your mind, questioning your abilities despite knowing that the document was, by all standards, impeccable.
As you scrambled to gather my thoughts, Harvey continued. "If you can't handle the basics, I don't know why I bother keeping you around. Maybe it's time for a reality check, Y/N."
His words hung in the air, a heavy weight on my shoulders. The bullpen fell silent, and your colleagues exchanged uneasy glances. You knew how people judged women for being emotional in the workplace but you could not help the tears welling in your eyes.
Harvey turned on his heel and walked away without a second glance, leaving you with a sinking feeling of inadequacy. You stared at the perfectly crafted document, now dismissed and devalued by Harvey's cutting words. It was a moment of doubt, a crack in the confidence you had built in your work. Goodbye nice dinner, you thought to yourself as we sat at your cubicle, back to square one.
It's been about a week since Harvey yelled at you. You couldn't sleep, you couldn't eat. Doubt was eating you. You were always proud of your writing skills, that was what you were known for. This is what got you hired at Pearson Hardman. What if you weren't good enough for this job anymore? Did you speak? Your mind was racing and you were lucky enough to talk yourself down. You were currently working on your fifth version of this contract. Every draft before that had him taking out his red marker. A part of you could have sworn he was just circling things at random, but who are you to question the great Harvey Specter. It was 2:00 pm and you thought maybe you deserve a snack so you headed to the breakroom. Who do you happen to run into Mike Ross? He had no faults but just happened to be the unwitting recipient of your frustration.
You stormed up to Mike barely containing the anger that had been building for weeks. "Mike, we need to talk," I blurted out, not bothering to hide the frustration in my voice.
Mike looked up from his sandwich, surprised by the intensity of my tone. "Sure, Y/N, what's going on?"
You took a deep breath, struggling to find the right words. "It's just... Do you ever feel like you're stuck in someone's shadow? Like no matter how hard you work, you're always one step behind?"
Mike furrowed his brow, sensing the gravity of my emotions. "What happened? Is it Harvey?"
You nodded, my frustration bubbling over. "It's always Harvey. He treats you like a partner, his drinking buddy, his go-to guy for everything. Meanwhile, I'm drowning in his shadow, drowning in rewrites and unreasonable expectations."
Mike leaned back, a sympathetic expression on his face. "I get it. Harvey has his moments. But you're great at what you do. Maybe he just doesn't see it."
"That's the problem, Mike. He doesn't see it. I'm just the person who writes and rewrites, constantly trying to meet his impossible standards. Did you know I can't even eat at my desk because once there was a Hot Cheeto stain on one of the drafts, and he lost it?"
Mike's eyes widened, realizing the extent of my frustration. "That's harsh, Y/N. Look, I know I have a different dynamic with Harvey, but it doesn't mean he values you any less. Maybe you should talk to him about how you're feeling."
"It's not that easy, Mike. I'm tired of being the one in the background. I can't handle the pressure anymore." you confessed, your voice laced with a mix of anger and vulnerability.
Mike sighed, understanding the weight of your words. "I can't fix everything, but I can listen. And I am truly sorry"
“NO, NO, no I am sorry Mike, I am not mad at you or at Harvey. I guess I am mad at myself. I am just going back to work on my fifth version of this document”, you said as you felt the hunger take over. But you pushed through. You had to push through.
As you walked out of the break room, Mike became an unexpected ally. He went to his binder Harvey put together and looked for the fourth version of the contract knowing Harvey had put it all in the file to look over. The document was perfect, no one could have done it better.
Mike took in your look when you came bargaining in here. You looked awful. And what it was barely a week working on the case. Mike had heard about Harvey yelling in the bullpen but it had caused you so much disarray that Mike knew Harvey took it too far. He knew you and he didn't talk as much but Rachel adored you and he had to do the right thing and get Harvey to apologize.
Donna saw Mike striding towards Harvey’s office and knew what was coming. Donna knew Harvey was wound tight. That this case was getting the best of him and taking it out on the lovely Y/N but lord forbid she say anything. The last time she tried she nearly got her head chewed off too and Harvey right now needs to know he isn't alone in this case.
"Harvey, you're being too hard on Y/N. The contract she wrote was perfect, and every draft since then has only improved upon perfection. You can't keep circling random stuff just to make her rewrite it," Mike asserted, his tone firm as he entered Harvey’s office. The fourth version of your contract in his hand.
Harvey shot him a sharp glance. "I demand the best, and if she can't deliver, then maybe she's not cut out for this."
Mike shook his head. "It's not about delivering, Harvey. It's about you being stressed out over the case and taking it out on her. She's doing her best, and you need to acknowledge that."
Before Harvey could respond, Donna chimed in. "Mike's right, Harvey. I've seen the way you've been treating Y/N, and it's not fair. You've always had a soft spot for her, even if you won't admit it.”
Harvey raised an eyebrow. "A soft spot? Donna, you're reading too much into it."
Donna crossed her arms, "Harvey. I am Donna and I know everything. I also see everything. Harvey. Remember the time she was sick, and you made sure she had everything she needed? Or how you personally chose her for the team during the Jackson case? You compliment her skills and skip past everyone else you named for your team. You've got a soft spot for her, whether you admit it or not”
Mike nodded in agreement. "You can't deny it, Harvey. There's something about her that you can't ignore. Maybe it's time to acknowledge it and cut her some slack."
Harvey sighed, he didn't appreciate Mike and Donna ganging up on him but the fact that they were meant they maybe had a point, "Fine. Maybe I've been too hard on her. But she needs to know that mediocrity isn't acceptable."
Donna shook her head. "Harvey, there's a difference between pushing for excellence and being unnecessarily harsh. You owe Y/N an apology."
Reluctantly, Harvey nodded. "Alright. I'll talk to her. But this doesn't mean I'm going soft."
Donna smirked. "We wouldn't want that, Harvey."
Harvey made his way to find you. While Donna and Mike exchanged a knowing look. He made his way down to Rachels office, knowing that's where he will find you at these hours. He was taking the elevator and he thought about the last time both of you were in the elevator. It was the day the Amir Jackson case got handed for the first time. Harvey was on his way to meet with Amir for the first time in a long time to talk over the case, get under his skin.
The elevator doors closed, enclosing Harvey Specter and Y/N in a small, confined space. The tension from the Jackson case was already weighing heavily on Harvey, evident by the way he impatiently tugged at his perfectly knotted tie.
"Harvey, relax. You're going to strangle yourself with that tie if you keep pulling on it," you quipped. You realized the stress coming off him and the words just flew out of your mouth before you could think.
Harvey shot them a sidelong glance, his usual stoicism momentarily replaced by a flicker of amusement. "Maybe I'd be better off without it."
A small, unexpected laugh escaped Harvey's lips, surprising both him and Y/N. It was a rare sight to witness Harvey Specter, the embodiment of seriousness, letting his guard down even for a moment. Specifically with you.
" This isn't your first time easing the tension, I see the way you calm Rachel down when she gets in over her head. You always find a way to lighten the mood. What's your secret?" Harvey teased, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
You shrugged, a smile forming as you too let down your guard "Maybe it's just my superpower. The ability to make even the mighty Rachel and even the mysterious Harvey Specter crack a smile."
Harvey's expression shifted back to his usual cool exterior, but a subtle warmth lingered in his eyes. "Careful, now you might start thinking you're irreplaceable."
As the elevator continued its ascent, the banter between you quieted down and Harvey and you started to go back to normal. Back to the quietness and coldness.
But before the elevator opened to the floor, Harvey sneaked in, “Well, don't let it get to your head. You're not the comedian Pearson Specter, just the document wizard.", his smile lingered a little before the face of the closer returned to its hard exterior.
If you were there longer than Rachel or she was busy running around the office she allowed you to work in her small office room. It was currently 4:00 pm but Louis had yelled at all the associates and dismissed them for the day for being useless. Only those working on the Amir case were still here, plus Donna and Rachel. Rachel was off trying to get the emails of old associates of Amir. You thought that Mike probably went off with her after your little breakdown to him. You knew Harvey was in the office and that you were typing on your keyboard like there was no tomorrow. You meticulously worked on the revised legal document, determined to prove to Harvey Specter that you could meet his standards and trying to prove yourself that you could melt your own standards. The door swung open abruptly, and you hooked up to see Harvey's stern expression.
"Y/N, we need to talk," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle, yet you couldn't shake the feeling that another reprimand was imminent.
Your pulse quickened, and your breath caught in your throat. The anxiety that had been simmering since Harvey's earlier criticism surged to the surface. You felt a tightness in my chest, your hands trembling as you tried to compose myself.
Harvey noticed your distress, as his expression softened, and he took a step closer. "Hey, relax. I just wanted to talk about earlier. I think I may have been too harsh."
The words barely registered as your panic escalated. Your mind raced, and suddenly, you found it difficult to breathe. The walls of the office seemed to close in on you. Before you could respond, the edges of your vision blurred, and a wave of dizziness overcame you as you sat at the desk, gripping on to the edge for support.
Harvey's concern deepened as he watched you struggle. "Hey hey hey, whoa, take it easy. You are okay, everything is okay”
But you couldn't catch your breath, and panic tightened its grip. Your hands shook uncontrollably, and you gasped for air. In the midst of the chaos, Harvey acted swiftly. He made his way around the desk kneeling down to be at eye level with you.
"Deep breaths, Y/N. In and out," Harvey instructed, his voice a soothing anchor in the storm of panic.
As you continued to struggle, Harvey, without hesitation, he took your hand and placed it over his heart. "Feel my heartbeat? Match your breaths to it. In, and out”
His heartbeat served as a rhythmic guide, and slowly, your breaths synchronized with its steady cadence. The panic began to subside, replaced by a sense of calm that washed over you. As the storm within you quieted, exhaustion set in, and the world around you blurred into darkness.
Harvey caught you as you passed out. Guilt swept over him because he knew he was the cause of this. He can’t remember the last time he saw you smile, the last time you ate, the last time you lit up a room. You were giving your all in this case and by doing so you were giving away parts of yourself too. He moved you onto Rachels couch so you could lay down properly. He knew you passed out because of panic and the lack of eating, he noticed these things about you. He noticed a lot about you actually, damn it Donna, he thought.
He took his pocket square and wet it with your water bottle. He adjusted himself to the couch, moving so that your head was on his lap as he placed the cool rag on your forehead.
The aftermath of the panic attack had left both of you in a vulnerable state. Yet Harvey couldn't deny the flutter in his chest as he gazed down at you. Was it concern for your well-being, or was it the proximity that had him on edge? He shook off the thought, focusing on steadying his own heartbeat.
In the midst of the stillness, the door creaked open, and right on cue Mike Ross cautiously entered. He took in the scene, the concern etched across his face.
"What happened?" Mike asked, his eyes shifting between Harvey and your unconscious state, ready to fight Harvey if he did you any physical harm.
Harvey, in his usual commanding tone, snapped, "Go to the Mexican restaurant two blocks down and get two number 5's."
Mike, taken aback, stammered, "But—"
"Just do it," Harvey insisted, his gaze never leaving you.
Mike quickly exited, leaving Harvey alone with his unconscious colleague. He had so many questions but Harvey’s tone told him everything he needed to know. Minutes later, the door swung open again, revealing Mike with bags of Mexican takeout in hand.
"Here," Mike said, handing the bags to Harvey. "I'll take off early for the night. Rachel and I were thinking about grabbing dinner. You got this, right?" A little weary to leave you, feeling like he should tell Rachel, Donna or even Jessica. But the look in Harvey’s eye told him he had nothing to worry about.
Harvey nodded, a silent acknowledgment of Mike's understanding. As Mike left, Harvey couldn't help but feel a mix of gratitude and guilt. He knew you hadn't been eating well, and by the looks of your under eye bags you also hadn't been sleeping and the panic attack had been triggered by the stress of the Jackson case, a burden he bore on both their shoulders.
As you began to stir, Harvey glanced down at the bags of Mexican food. The aroma filled the room, and he hoped the gesture would, in some small way, make up for the turmoil he inadvertently caused.
"You're awake," Harvey remarked as you slowly opened their eyes.
You ignored everything around you as you slowly sat up with the help of Harvey. A blush rushing on your face realizing how close you were to Harvey. But all that faded when you saw the food, "How did you know this is my favorite?"
“That’s the first thing you ask?’Harvey raised an eyebrow.
Your body slowly turned to face him.The headache and body sores had you wincing in pain. Harvey’s eyes held much guilt and sadness in them even as he tried to suppress them and act strong in front of you. This was about you and not about what he was feeling.
“I am a simple girl. I get easily distracted by food”, you let out a small laugh even though you are exhausted, “Now answer my question”
Harvey hesitated, the words lingering on the tip of his tongue, he wanted to say that it's because he knew you. But Instead of admitting the depth of his knowledge about you, he chose a simpler response. "Who doesn't love Mexican food?"
You hummed as he moved the desk closer to you so you wouldn't have to get up from the couch. The food was spread out and he took a seat next to you. A silence took over the room as you both began to eat. The atmosphere was heavy with unspoken tension, the events of the panic attack still lingering in the air.
Harvey cleared his throat, breaking the uneasy silence. "Look, Y/N, I wanted to apologize for the unnecessary pressure I put on you. It was out of line, and I shouldn't have let it escalate to the point of causing a panic attack."
You glanced up from your plate, a mixture of exhaustion and forgiveness in your eyes. "Harvey, it's not entirely your fault. The case is stressful, and I should have handled it better."
Harvey's expression softened at your words. "That doesn't excuse my behavior. I should have been more considerate. I don't want you to feel like you have to carry the weight of the case alone."
You sighed, pushing the food around on their plate. "Harvey, I forgive you, but on one condition."
Harvey raised an eyebrow, silently urging you to continue.
" I can't keep being treated like an outsider, I know I only got hired because of my writing skills but I want to do more, be more. I want to be more than just the person who drafts contracts. I know I can be a kick ass lawyer if given the chance."
Harvey took a moment to absorb your words. The realization of the impact of his actions sank in, and he nodded. "You're right”
“Did those words really just come out of your mouth”, your eye grew wide as a smile danced on your lips’’
“Just, can you just shush for a moment”, he said as he placed his fork down.
“ Jessca told me when you were hired that you were born to be a shark. I guess I got so caught up in your skills that I haven't really even given you the chance to dominate the courtroom. I shouldn't have overlooked that."
You saw something in his eyes you had never seen before. Was it hope?
You both continued to eat in subdued silence, the tension in the room shifted. The unspoken feelings between both of you simmered beneath the surface. This was forever changing the dynamic of your professional relationship.
So where do you all go after this? The case of Amir Jackson isn't over, there is much more left for you both to do. This isn't the end. This is only the beginning, leaving both Harvey and you to navigate whatever comes next.
#harvey specter x reader#harvey specter x you#harvey specter#suits#suits usa#suits tv#mike ross#donna paulsen#Pearson Hardman
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the devil i know
chapter three: i smoke out your darkest side
(repost)
fic tag | fic playlist | fic masterlist
pairing(s): crossroads demon!eddie munson x fem!reader
summary: Your favorite accidental demon boy toy maims your piece of shit manager, learns a bit about your past, and visits you in a dream.
cw: explicit, witch!reader, reader is 21+, eddie is immortal, deal with a demon, inspired by american and european folklore, sacrilegious themes, wet dreams, lucid dreaming, handjobs, skin on skin grinding, teasing, horror, very intense bodily harm done to a minor character (tongues are lost), blood, gore, bullying/harassment, mention of past abusive ex, dead dove: do not eat
please check masterlist and individual parts for content warnings before reading. this fic contains dark themes. your media consumption is your own responsibility.
ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI
EASTWICK, YOUR JUNIOR YEAR
The book you found at the garage sale a town over has to be fake. Right? You’ve spent weeks flipping through it, looking at the pages and reading the words over and over, trying to somehow carve them into your memory.
It seems so improbable, but the notion bounces around in your skull for so long that it grips hold somewhere in there, wiggling down into your belief system until you just can’t seem to get rid of it.
Magic is real. Witchcraft exists. It has existed, in different forms, throughout history. You’ve just never considered that you could practice it for yourself, until now.
Part of the reason that you decide to try it is that you want to see what’ll happen. You have an insatiable curiosity, and if it works out, you may have just discovered the cure to all that ails you, so to speak. But the other part of it is a quiet desperation for something more.
Being sixteen sucks. But being sixteen in a small, puritanical town that’s stuck in the past, when you’re considered too weird to eat in the cafeteria without getting wads of gum stuck into your hair by the assholes on the football team, is worse.
You have no support system, and no way out. Your family won’t even pretend to understand. So, you’re taking to naïve leaps of faith, instead.
The moon is bright enough to illuminate the clouds moving in the sky around it. The air is thick with late spring mugginess and oncoming rain, stifling your skin. The candles arranged in a circle around you don’t help with the heat. Beneath you on the dirt, you’ve used red painter’s pigment to sketch out a pentacle, for lack of a better understanding of how to “cast a circle.”
In your hand, the little cloth doll you’d amateurly sewn together stares back at you with two black button eyes. You’d been very careful when you clipped off a piece of Matt Anderson’s backpack strap to tie around its neck. The wad of ABC gum that he’d shoved into your hair is wrapped in it, and stuffed inside the doll’s body, making it lumpy– but it doesn’t have to look perfect.
It just has to work.
You pick up a cheap plastic cigarette lighter and flick it on. The flame glows yellow in the dark, illuminating the crude red smiley face you’d drawn onto the doll’s head.
Fucking Matt.
The polyester cloth sizzles when you hold the flame to it, barely singeing the edges. All your rage, all your pent up anger and aggression toward him and the impromptu haircut he caused, floods out of you. The smiley face warps. One of the little button eyes pops off. The stuffing inside is going to catch on in a second–
“Oh, my GOD. What are you doing?”
You drop the lighter with a yelp. Over your backyard fence, your neighbor, Jessica, stares at you with wide eyes.
Jessica is your age, your longtime neighbor and one-time friend, when you were very little. You grew apart in middle school, when she discovered cheerleading and you discovered teen angst. She doesn’t talk to you much anymore, unless it’s to give you a hollow, backhanded compliment.
“Jess– I didn’t– what are you doing?” You squint at her in the darkness. Her blonde hair is up in foam rollers, a baby blue bathrobe wrapped around her willowy shoulders.
“Well I saw fire out here when I was getting ready for bed and I wanted to see what was– I wanted to make sure you weren’t, like, in trouble.” She takes in the circle of candles around the red pentacle, the lighter, the mutilated doll in your hand. “Are you, like… a Devil worshipper?”
“What?” You stand up, still clutching the doll in your hand. “No, why would you ask that?”
“Well, I mean… Reverend Tanner was talking about ‘em in church the other day, and I just thought…” She looks you up and down. Her eyes linger on your oversized Black Sabbath t-shirt, your hands covered in red pigment and soot from the spell you were attempting. “It’s okay, I’m not gonna say anything. I promise.”
“Jess, I’m not a Devil wor–”
“It’s… it’s alright. It’ll be our secret.” Jessica gives you a wobbly, forced smile that you know means she’s lying.
Your eye twitches in annoyance. You probably should say something. Plead your case, make her understand that this isn’t Devil worship. Tell her that whatever the hell she listens to the preacher at the local parish say about ‘lunatic Satan worshippers consorting with the Devil’ doesn’t apply to you, and frankly, probably doesn’t exist the way she thinks it does.
Instead, you just sigh. You can’t foresee her being as big of a problem as Matt or any of his cronies. She isn’t vindictive as all that. “Sure, Jess. Our secret.”
“I, um. Sorry, I’m just gonna…” Jessica gestures over her shoulder, and then retreats back toward her house. Her fluffy pink slippers scuff the wood of her patio as she glances back at you cautiously, like she’s afraid you’ll chase after her.
You watch her disappear inside. Then, with a roll of your eyes, you irritatedly hold the lighter’s flame to the Matt doll, and let it catch fire in your hands. You toss it into an empty Folgers coffee canister and let it burn to shit before you blow out the candles and go back inside. The pentacle on the ground will be washed away with the rain by the morning.
Fuck it all.
As soon as Colin enters his house, Eddie appears on the horizon like a stoic angel bearing a message.
Actually, that’s a fucking lie. He makes the walls cry blood. Always wanted to do that, at least once.
Colin’s a little pipsqueak of a guy in his early thirties, with prematurely thinning hair and skinny legs that make his pants look way too big on him no matter what size he wears. Eddie finds it hard to take him seriously– especially when he’s cowering in a corner brandishing a wooden crucifix like Eddie’s some kind of movie vampire.
“Colin– hey.” Eddie smacks the crucifix out of the guy’s hand, sending it clattering across the floor. Red ooze drips over Colin’s shoulder as he flinches away, whimpering and crying. Eddie rolls his eyes. “Christ, you people are so easy to scare. Okay. Here’s how this is gonna go– you’re gonna quit your job, and I’m gonna make you vomit green pea soup, and then we both go our separate ways and never have to see each other again. Sound good?”
Eddie pauses, tilting his head and squinting at Colin as he starts whispering something. It’s so quiet and wobbly with tears that he can’t quite make it out, so he has to lean close to Colin’s trembling face.
“–thy kingdom come thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven, give us this day our daily bread–”
Eddie sighs. “That’s not gonna work.”
“–forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us–”
“Colin, I’m losing my patience.”
“–lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil–”
“COLIN!” Eddie’s head explodes into a storm of snarling beasts, screeching demons and eldritch beings whirling around each other in a tempest that could rival the Tasmanian Devil. A monstrous jaw with three rows of razor sharp teeth unhinges in front of Colin’s screaming face, roaring at him, showing him the glowing pit of hellfire deep in Eddie’s chest.
Colin continues shrieking even after Eddie’s face returns to normal. Eddie rocks back on his heels, inching away from the puddle of urine Colin just released onto the floor.
“I warned you,” Eddie murmurs. “Needed you to shut up. Now,” Eddie snatches Colin’s phone from the coffee table, pushing it at him. “Call your stupid fucking boss and quit your job so I can get back to my girl.”
Blubbering, Colin juggles the phone in his trembling hands. It takes three tries for him to unlock the damn thing.
After it’s done, Eddie takes the phone from Colin and tosses it over his shoulder. “You just got off so fucking easy– they teach you those fucking manners in Sunday school, too? Stealing tips, making her clean the goddamn bathrooms on her hands and knees. I’d love to kick your teeth in–”
“W-wait–” Colin sniffles, sitting up in his corner. “That’s your girl? The witch?”
Eddie leans back, his jaw clicking into place as he readjusts it– unhinging it like that always misaligns it. He scrutinizes Colin’s expression; the blubbering, frightened little cretin is gone, replaced by a wild eyed and angry zealot.
“Oh, my god. Oh my GOD, so it’s true?” Colin laughs hysterically. “You know they say she burned down her neighbors house because they saw her worshiping the Devil?”
Eddie blinks. “What fucking year is this? 1692?”
Colin doesn’t answer, just continues, “And she never got caught. They couldn’t prove it was her. But now, I bet…”
Colin trails off. There’s something dark and menacing in Eddie’s eyes that wasn’t there before– not even when he lost his temper. Lava pools whirling and stormy, boiling and angry like the buildup before an eruption.
Fear shoots directly into Colin’s mind so hard that he gives a startled jump. After years of skillful practice, Eddie has figured out how to play with people’s emotions in quite the literal sense. Sometimes, he does it harder than necessary.
“I– I mean–” Colin backtracks, “I’m not gonna say anything. I promise. I– I fucking swear on my life–”
“I don’t care about your life,” Eddie says, his voice as flat as he can make it. “I care about hers.”
“Please– please don’t kill me!”
“No, I’m not gonna kill you.” Eddie looks momentarily as though he’s considering launching himself forward and throttling the cowering man, but he sets aside his sudden temperament. “I promised her that I wouldn’t. Which… complicates things.”
Colin squirms. “It… it does?”
“Mm.” Eddie nods, his hands pressed together under his nose as though in prayer. “Because you’re obviously not gonna keep your trap shut, so I have to do it for you.”
Eddie stands as Colin retches. His body contorts on the floor, wailing and gurgling until a projectile stream of blood bursts forth and splatters across the living room hearth. In the midst of the puddle of blood, a writhing tongue curls and twitches, severed on one end like it was cut with a sharp blade.
Colin collapses in a pool of his own fluids. He’ll live. Unfortunately.
Eddie dusts his hands off on his pants and whistles. Out of the shadows, the smoky impression of a dog appears, its glowing red eyes piercing through the darkness and mirroring Eddie’s.
“Dante,” Eddie mutters to the shadow of the rottweiler, standing at attention and waiting for instructions. The dog gives a short whuff of acknowledgement. Eddie snaps his fingers, points at Colin’s disembodied tongue. “Dinner.”
Dante barks and falls upon the tongue enthusiastically. It’s been a while since Eddie’s hellhounds had any fresh meat, only being fed by the souls of the condemned in the Otherworld.
Eddie turns around in a circle, staring around at Colin’s less than stellar apartment setup. He can’t really judge, he was never much of a housekeeper either, but this guy is on a whole other level.
It takes a minute, but he finds what he was looking for beneath Colin’s mattress– hilariously predictable– in a tin pencil box. There’s about $300 in cash, singles and fives and a few twenties in the mix. A couple receipts from a Coinstar machine, as well.
Eddie snatches up the wad of money and shoves it into his back pocket.
You’ve managed to have one or two lucid dreams in your life. In the past they’ve been something mundane– walking through a city or having a talk with an elderly gentleman on a park bench.
This one is different. You open your eyes to something entirely unexpected.
Your dream is bright and colorful, despite it being perpetually twilight. As you gain lucidity, you pick up on different things– damp grass on your bare back, skin on skin, a gentle caress up a naked thigh. You turn your head, and you find Eddie there next to you, stirring as if rousing from a dream of his own.
You– or, your subconscious– has already taken the liberty of stripping him of his clothes, and you lay in the tall grass of a meadow. Your arms are around him, your leg hooked over his waist. He pets your thigh, soft and gentle like he’s doing it mindlessly.
Your hand wraps around his cock and he startles, his eyes flying open as he gasps.
“Oh. This is, um…” Eddie turns his head towards you, snickering as a warm flush spreads across his cheeks. Ringed hands– because of course, your mind would keep the rings in there– come up to cover his face.
You giggle. “Hello, handsome.”
He grumbles something, but he doesn’t manage to say anything of real importance before he moans. You squeeze his cock and roll your wrist, stroking him torturously slow. He throbs in your grip, needy and jumping when you skim your fingers over the vein that runs along his shaft.
“Well, you, um–” Eddie huffs and cracks a smile, dragging his hands down his face as he does to clear away the grogginess that comes from stepping into the astral plane. “You sure know how to make a demon feel special.”
“Not what you had in mind?” you ask, and your voice has a sultry dip to it that makes the demon squirm.
“Mm, I figured–” Eddie’s breath catches in his throat when you lean over and spit onto his cock. The sound that kicks up from it is salacious, a lewd squelch that completely contradicts your pastoral surroundings. You watch him, as his mouth hangs open in shock for a moment. His head drops back against the ground, baring the jumping muscles of his long neck for your consideration. “Fuck– figured you dream about unicorns and lollipops or some shit.”
You hum, looking pointedly down at where your hand strokes him between his legs. “Well, you’re half right. S’what you get for hijacking my dream, you little shit,” you mutter, but it doesn’t come out as caustically as you want it to, because you litter his chest with kisses.
“I just wanted to talk.” He tilts his head, giving you a pointed look. “You seem to have other plans.”
“Well, it’s my dream, and you caught me in a mood, so.” You shrug, rolling your thumb over the head of his cock. You’re gazing down at it like it’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen, with heavy-lidded eyes and your bottom lip caught between your teeth.
Eddie groans and bucks his hips up into your fist. His hand comes up to grab your shoulder, a warm touch that sends a shudder through you. “Remind me to do that more often?”
You shake your head slowly. “Nuh-uh, this is a one time thing. You said you wanted to talk, so talk.”
You hadn’t realized just how much his presence would affect you, even just in your dreams. Everything about him screams for you to unhinge yourself, against your better judgment; his eyes, his scent, even his voice beckons you. Something not quite human or tangible pulls at your senses and clutches at your chest, and you’re not sure if it’s hunger or lust or something else entirely, some other primitive urge that you’re feeling in force.
Eddie sucks in a long breath through his teeth, his eyes falling to your hand as it works over him. His own tremble, holding back from touching you how he wants.
“There’s, um. You asked me to– uh–” You start trailing your tongue along his chest in a way that makes him lose his train of thought, your lips dragging over his skin, heavenly soft. “Uhhh– not kill that guy for you. So I didn’t.”
“Good.”
“I cut out his tongue, though.”
“Eddie.”
“Sorry.” He isn’t, really. You can feel it, and you can see it in the ghost of a smile on his face. “He was gonna say some shit about you worshipping the Devil. Called you a witch.”
“Everyone already does. And they’re right, aren’t they?” You sigh, and your breath whispers across his overheated skin. “I’m worshipping a devil right now.”
You’re bolder in your sleep. You guess because, to your subconscious mind, there isn’t as much to be afraid of in dreams. Especially in dreams that you can control. All your hang-ups are, well… hung up. And you can let yourself be as promiscuous as you want, at least until you wake up.
You bite at a spot on his neck that makes him lose his composure. Eddie chews his lip and groans, his eyes nearly rolling back into his skull. He grabs your hip and flips you, until your back hits the grass and his hips rest between your legs.
Your heart pounds in your chest as you gaze up at him. Eddie’s beautiful, so impossibly stunning that it nearly frightens you, almost as much as this aching want burning inside of you does. His dark hair hanging around his face, his flushed skin and glowing amber eyes. He’s the picture of immortal beauty and power, and he’s yours.
His lips are so close to yours, his mouth open so that his breath gets caught in your lungs. His nose bumping your own, almost like he means to kiss you.
Eddie rocks his hips, and you feel his erection grind against your cunt. Splitting the seam of your pussy, parting around him as he slides the length of it against you, getting it wet with your arousal. He isn’t… he isn’t fucking you, per se. But it would take just the slightest hitch of his hips, just a little press forward to change that.
You whimper, clutching at his shoulders, your nails digging into his back. “Eddie…”
“So you want to play games, huh?” he murmurs, his voice low and bassy in his chest.
You roll your hips up into his. You can’t help it– the slick, soft glide of his cock through your folds, the head catching against your clit feels too good. His lips on your skin, his breath in your ear. It’s been way too fucking long for you, since someone touched you like this. Your head drops back on your shoulders, your back arching as you moan–
You wake up.
You fucking. Wake. Up.
You lay, disoriented, on your bed. Your hand rests on your sweaty forehead as your pussy throbs, hot and angry between your legs. Seething with rage and neglect, begging for the job to be finished.
It was so real. It felt so real, and so good, and you had to go and ruin it.
His scent remains. His smoke fills your lungs, eating up all your oxygen and making your head spin. You struggle to find your balance somehow, trying to quell the ache between your legs, trying to snap back to a reality where you weren’t just about to fuck your dream demon.
“Did you burn down someone’s house?”
You yelp, bolting to sit up in bed. His scent wasn’t just a leftover memory from your dream. You search through the darkness until your eyes find him sitting in the antique chair in the corner of your room, facing the bed, lit only by streaks of light filtering through the blinds from the streetlamp outside. He reclines, immobile, seemingly relaxed as his eyes glow warm and nearly gold in the low light.
You simply cannot handle this right now. Not while you’re coming down from a very near orgasm you just had because of him.
“What?”
“The guy, Colin–” Eddie continues, as if he’s completely unaware of the absolute torture you’re going through. “He said you burned down someone’s house. Your neighbor’s?”
You wonder for a moment if you could hate him for this, but you already know the answer. You could never hate him. Not really.
“C’mon, you can tell me,” he coos, and then winks. “Tell me and I’ll give you a present.”
You squint at him. He can’t possibly mean what you think he means. You get a mental image of him between your legs, his eyes glowing as he peers up at you, his mouth closed over your cunt.
He smirks like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. The fucker.
“Yeah,” you admit, drawing your knees up to your chest. “Yeah, uh. My fucking neighbor– she started a rumor that I was a Satanist in high school. Got everyone in on it. So, I threw a Molotov through her kitchen window.”
Eddie nods slowly. “Amazing de-escalation tactic.”
“It’s not like I genuinely tried to burn down the place,” you huff. “How was I supposed to know they’d just had the floor waxed?”
Eddie laughs, rocking forward in his seat. His eyes sparkle and his smile is sharp when he pulls a wad of money out of his pocket, holding it up between two fingers. “Your tip money. Your wish, my command.”
You’re taken aback, gazing at the paper that seems so bright in the darkness. “Well, that was relatively painless.”
“Was it?” It’s barely a whisper, but something you were meant to hear. Holding his jaw in his hand, fingers splayed across his cheek, he watches you with growing intensity. “Come and take it, then.”
The knowing smile on his lips issues a challenge, one that you would walk away from in any other circumstance. He knows very well what he’s doing. He can read your thoughts, that much is obvious. And since it seems they’re always in the gutter now, he knows how you’re squirming beneath your skin at the sight of him.
You wonder if you were really the one who ended the dream.
Refusing to breathe– you’re afraid that if you do, the sound of it would give you away– you crawl out of your bed and stand on shaky legs. One look at him tells you he’s gloating, watching the way that you struggle.
Ohhhh you hate him. You hate him, you hate him.
You cross the room toward him, moving slower than necessary in order to steel yourself to the shortening distance between you. You stop short of his legs, extended out and crossed at the ankles.
Eddie doesn’t move, his elevated hand still holding the wad of money. “C’mon then, tough girl.”
You stare at him, trying not to give yourself away, trying for all the world not to scream or throw yourself on him. You hesitantly step forward and snatch the money out of his hand before taking a long step back.
“Thank you, Eddie,” you say mildly, trying to keep your voice steady. Even his name sends a rush of warmth through you. The word burns on your wrist. Your body shakes against your will.
Shit. Fuck. God damn it.
He chuckles, standing from the chair, looming over you. “Anything else I can help you with?”
You squint up at him, your voice shaking as much as your hands, now. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Right. It was a one time thing, wasn’t it?”
The expression on his face is somewhere between affection and condescension as he suppresses a grin. His hand comes up and he pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, urging you to look up into his eyes.
A note of fondness oozes into his tone. “Don’t play games with me, sweetheart. You won’t win.”
Eddie’s touch sends a shock wave through your body, a shiver so strong that your eyes flutter shut. His voice is so soft, so lovingly gentle that it nearly makes you break down, knees weakening, head spinning.
He leans forward, pressing his lips to the shell of your ear. “I’ll be here, whenever you change your mind.”
There’s an edge to his voice, a tone that hints at some sort of plea in there. You don’t know what it could be for– sex? Your trust?
You trust him to protect you. You approach him the same way you might approach a spirit in your house– unfamiliar, sure, but not immediately a threat as far as you know. Here, let me offer you half of my muffin as long as you don’t set my house on fire, okay? Maybe don’t kill that guy. Or maybe do. Depends on my mood.
You purse your lips, thankful that he doesn’t look at you when you say, “I know.”
You sound a lot more sure than you feel. You desperately want to grab him and kiss him, throw him on the bed and finish what you started in that dream.
Except, you’re afraid. A dream is one thing; sex in the waking world is another. You’re tiptoeing around some strange patron demon-human relationship that you don’t know how to navigate. It’s in the contract that you have to fuck him, eventually. But you and relationships don’t have a good history, and you’re a little frightened that if you make that leap on your own, it’s only going to end badly.
You think of Andy. You think of your abusive ex who still just hangs around, waiting to intimidate you. You think of the reason why you went out to make a deal with Eddie, and you think of the dog tag that you buried as an offering because Andy had taken the last thing you truly loved from you.
You know that Eddie isn’t just some normal guy you’re dealing with. Your attraction to him goes against everything that you understand, but it makes sense, doesn’t it? Because you try. You try and try, and you’re a good girl until you’re pushed too far, and then you do something stupid like make a deal with a demon because you’re sick of having to just be strong on your own. And suddenly you want to fuck that demon’s brains out so bad that it’s keeping you up at night.
But… you don’t know him. Not really. And as bad as you want him, with your body screaming for him, it’s still enough to make you hesitate.
There’s a subtle movement of Eddie’s head, like maybe he can sense your indecision. Maybe he’ll end that torture for you. He’ll read the brimming anxiety in your thoughts and give you what you’re too afraid to ask for. Sex. Sex with Eddie. Sex with your demon… whatever he is.
Sex with his infernal majesty of freaks and misfits.
But he doesn’t. Without another word, Eddie turns, and he disappears into your bedroom mirror. Leaving you to flop down onto your bed, punch your pillow, and scream.
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#tdik!fic#stranger things#stranger things fanfic#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#demon!eddie#demon!eddie munson#roses*
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to leave the warmest bed i've ever known (part 2)
PREVIOUS CHAPTER
pairing: spider-woman!reader x miguel o’hara
summary: life on the run is not for the weak. you're reminded of this once you run into someone you haven't seen in a while
warnings: a lot of angst (there'll be fluff and smut soon i swear i just feel like writing angst right now lmao), HUGE ATSV SPOILERS DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THIS MOVIE, mentions and descriptions of blood and injuries, this is so against canon its insane
word count: 2.2k
notes: ok so i changed my mind, miguel and the reader arent gonna make up just yet🤭. trust me when they do it'll be worth it lmao. im gonna need everyone to suspend their belief for the next chapters cause im kind of just making up the plot to beyond the spider-verse at this point for this silly little fic so just go with it
---------------------------------------------------
God, this was very quickly turning out to be a very bad decision. The movies made being on the run seem a lot easier than this. What they had failed to include was how easily it was to get ambushed by Spider-Society members while hopping between the dimensions looking for Miles. Your little group basically had to hop through a bunch of different dimensions within a week and look for him there, then leave before HQ managed to track you guys down. You’re not sure how much time has passed since you left. Maybe a few weeks. Maybe a few months. The passage of time was pretty weird when you were constantly hopping through the fabric of space and time. All you knew is that your eyes had naturally dulled out the neon orange light that shined from the portals you were constantly jumping through. Luckily, none of your team had been caught yet. There had been a few close calls, but only two of those led to severe injuries, one of them being Gwen, and the other time being you.
---------------------------------------------------
You and your team had been ambushed due to a malfunction with the portal opening. Each of you were put with your own variant to fight. Just to your luck, you were confronted by Jess. She looked awful to be honest. Stressed. She was probably put on finding you and your team while Miguel endlessly searched for Miles. This little wild goose chase had tired her out. Part of you felt bad. But that was very quickly overcome by the feeling of betrayal growing in your chest. You had a feeling she felt a similar way. “Please don’t make me do this. Just let me take you home,” she said weakly. Home. That’s right. That's basically what HQ had been to you before. You hadn’t been back to your Earth in five years, ever since Miguel caught you on the top of that building. Jessica was your first friend there. She had shown you the ropes to everything, been there for you during your lowest moments, and guided you to your highest ones. And now you had to repay her by sending her back to Miguel in a bloody pulp. You hated that this is how things had to go. But such was life for someone like you. “I have no home anymore,” you said at her monotonically before charging at her with your fists first. She’s quick to react, using one of her webs to swing away. It’s clear she doesn’t want to hurt you, each of her movements swift to defend herself, but never going on the offensive side. She could easily take you down if she wanted to. She had been doing this longer than you had and was more skilled than you too. She was going easy on you, desperately trying to show you she didn’t want to fight. But you didn’t care. You had put too much on the line to start to give up now.
The others had taken down their foes long before you had finished with Jess. You could see Gwen running up to you out of the corner of your eye, Ben tied up in a web behind her. You webbed her to the floor before she could get closer to the struggle you and Jess were currently in. You gave Gwen a quick, reassuring nod that she returned before running off to find the others. Once Gwen was out of sight, you quickly attached a web to Jess’ face, and pulled it down into your knee, knocking her glasses off her face and shattering on the floor. With her off her balance, you took the opportunity to try to knock her out. You slammed your fists into her face, one after the other, releasing all of the stress that had accumulated in your body over the past couple of months into her cheeks. You couldn’t see the damage you were doing, blinded by rage and betrayal and your fists blocking out her face. The only thing you could see was the blood splattering off of her face onto yours. You felt a voice in the back of your head begging you to stop. You desperately wanted to, but you had lost control of your body. Jess wasn’t the real person you wanted to hurt here, you already knew who that was. But she was the closest thing you could get to him right now. And if you were being honest with yourself, she wasn’t completely innocent to you either.
In her last desperate attempt to save herself, Jess shoved her forearm in the way of your balled up knuckles, grabbed a piece of shattered glass from her broken frames, and shoved it deep into your chest. Your reign of fury on her face suddenly stopped as pain quickly snapped through your body. You quickly fell to your knees, partially out of shock, and looked down to see the blood spilling out of your chest. As Jess dropped to her knees as well, you could finally get a gauge of the damage you’ve done. You couldn’t tell if the blood loss was making you see things, but her nose looked almost crooked, a dark cut slicing through the middle of it and blood pouring out of both nostrils. Both of her eyes were swollen, not entirely shut but on their way there. You looked down at your hands, the skin on your knuckles broken off and bleeding through the fabric of your suit, blending in with its natural red. They were trembling with a mixture of faded anger and new guilt. I never wanted to hurt her, you kept repeating to yourself in your head, as if it was going to make any difference. Maybe if you thought it hard enough, it would erase your actions. You suddenly flinched when you felt Jessica’s hand cupping your face. You looked up at her, mouth agape. Her soft thumb brushed your face as she stared lovingly at your face. So she did know. That made you feel a little less stupid when you broke down in front of her then and there. You just felt awful. Jess was your friend. Your best friend probably. And look at what you’ve done to her. You couldn’t understand how she managed to still be so soft with you, despite how much you’ve just mutilated her face.
It was ever harder for you to understand how quickly she enveloped you as soon as she saw the tears begin to streak her face. You didn’t deserve this. You should run away. You need to run away. You’re currently bleeding out, and you’re just sitting here, sobbing into the crook of her neck. She’s probably just stalling for time and holding you here until help comes for her. But the longer you sat here the longer you realized…this was just her. It was only Jess here. No help was coming. Jess just wanted to hold you again one last time before letting you run away again. Once you pulled away from her, she wiped away your tears. “Don’t let me catch you,” she whispered into your ear. It was a reminder to you that while she was still holding onto her beliefs, that didn’t mean she ever stopped caring for you. She helped to push you up off of the ground, her hands now covered in your blood. You began to walk away out of the dark alley to look for the others. Before leaving entirely, you turned around to look at Jess, still laying there. “I’ll find you once this is all over. So don’t you dare die on me, okay?” you shouted at her. She gave a simple nod in return, watching as you stumbled out of alley way. While you made the ultimate decision to let her live that day, you still had anger boiling up in your body. Somebody had to pay for all of this. All of this chaos that was about to unleash itself onto the multiverse. And you know exactly who did. And you didn’t intend to show him the same mercy you showed Jess. No. This was a job you intended to finish.
---------------------------------------------------
Thankfully, your chest laceration healed up quicker than expected, allowing you and your teammates to get back on track. Images of your encounter with Jess replayed through your mind for the next couple of weeks. The only other person you told about the details of your brutalization of Jess was Peter B., knowing he would understand with all the hard decisions he’s had to make himself. Gwen and Hobie had also noticed that you were acting a little bit off, but you avoided the subject every time they would bring it up.
Suddenly though, it was happening. The moment you and your team had anticipated for the past couple of weeks. You were awoken by the bright glow of three orange portals opening up, three Spider-Men in each. Your team sprang awake and began to make a run for it. It was no use though, as one by one, each member of your team was separated by a different group of variants, until it was just you, Gwen, and Peter running. While you were running, you felt a hand yank at the hair on the back of your head. You quickly turned around and found Ben Reilly as the culprit. You didn’t hesitate to jump into the air and kick his face, pushing him off of you and onto the floor. As the three of you kept running, your attention was suddenly caught by something else. “Keep your hands off her! That one’s mine!” you heard the familiar voice call out to Ben. A chill went down your spine, as the three of you stopped dead in your tracks. You did it. You finally managed to lure the bat out of his cave. Before you could turn around and find the face that belonged to that deep, alluring voice, you were caught off guard as you felt a body dive into your stomach at full speed, knocking all of the air out of you lungs. The pure force of the dive pushed you and the figure into the brick wall of an abandoned building, crashing into the structure.
Vision and hearing fuzzy from the impact, you heard Gwen scream out your name and begin to start running to you, before her and Peter B. get swept up by their own variants to take care of. Your head throbs in pain as you look around the building, feeling a huge weight on your chest. You look down at the rest of your body to find what’s weighing you down so much. And it’s him. Miguel’s massive body laying on top of you, his head dug into your stomach and arms wrapped around your waist from the dive. You were partially in shock. First of all, from the fact that your first interaction with him in months is him attempting to kill you (although it’d be a lie to say you weren’t thinking similar things). Second, you were still reeling from the blow. And third, the most shocking of all, was that this was arousing you in some way. Despite how much anger you were feeling towards him right now, you still managed to get butterflies in your stomach from how much of him was on top of you right now. He basically enveloped all of the lower half of your body.
Shame and anger filled your body fast as you tried to push him off of you, any attempts in vain though due to how massive he was. He helped you though when he began to stand up, allowing you to get yourself up and dive through his legs as an escape. Just as you made your attempt to run out of the hole in the wall, away from a fight you know you couldn’t win, Miguel’s giant hand wrapped around your forearm. He pulled your body back to face him and slammed his massive fist into your face. Blood spurted out of your nose purely from the impact and you were nearly knocked onto the floor. You grabbed your nose in reaction and looked up at him towering over you, unable to make out his expression from his mask. “You must’ve been thinking about this encounter for a while. Have you been thinking about me, Miggy?” you quipped at him. Usually you spoke playfully with him whenever you were in a good mood with him, but this time it was your one desperate attempt to push down any feelings that would get in the way of you doing what needed to be done. “Don’t feel so flattered cariño. Whatever happens here isn’t personal,” he said in that deep, flirty tone you always found so sexy. But right now all it did was piss you off even more. “Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better,” you said, dropping the slight smirk you had on your face. Taking action right away, you charged right at him, ready to do it right this time. You just wished he had his mask off so you could look him dead straight in his crimson eyes as you killed him.
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NEXT CHAPTER
a/n: i had night shift by lucy dacus on loop while writing the fight with jessica....thats all ill say on the matter. also sorry miguel's barely in this chapter i need to set up plot and shit. ALSO I JUST WANNA PREFACE, MY FIC TAKES PLACE A COUPLE OF MONTHS AFTER ACROSS THE SPIDERVERSE SO JESS HAD ALREADY GIVEN BIRTH. I SWEAR Y/N DID NOT JUST BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF A PREGNANT LADY💀💀💀
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#fanfic#miguel o’hara#miguel o'hara x reader#spiderman 2099#into the spider verse#across the spiderverse#spiderman across the spiderverse#spiderverse#fem!reader#fanfiction#jessica drew
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dazzling starlet, bardot reincarnate ⟢ s. winchester
summary: unrequited love is a bitch; inspired/based on the song lacy by olivia rodrigo
pairings: stanford era! sam winchester x gn! reader (unrequited), sam winchester x afab! reader, sam winchester x jessica moore
word count: 2.3K
warnings: canon compliant, angst, lot of angst, unrequited love, mentions of sex/masturbation, some cursing, no happy ending, kinda edited
a/n: i had written this around this time last year and then finished it in the summer but i hated how it turned out so i finally was able to rewrite and it think it turned out much better. also i'd recommend giving the song a listen before reading!
but enjoy the fic! please like, comment, and reblog!! your feedback fuels me!
𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵
You didn’t know if you hated Jessica or hated the fact that she was everything you weren’t. You couldn’t help but feel like something was punching at your ribs anytime you saw her. Jessica was the epitome of beauty; she was tall, had curly blonde hair that never seemed to get frizzy, big blue eyes that were always wide with kindness, and a sickly sweet smile that never failed to make you feel like your teeth could rot at the sight of it.
Not only was she beautiful on the outside, but it was like she didn’t have a bad bone in her body. Jessica was caring, intelligent, witty, strong-willed, and generous. You knew she had a big heart after meeting her a few times. She was practically an angel.
You knew it from the moment Sam introduced you to her as his girlfriend that you had lost him.
You tugged at the sleeves of your form-fitting black shirt at your wrists as you lingered outside of the apartment where Sam told you to meet him. Some of your mutual friends were hosting a small get-together before you guys went on fall break.
Just go in, mingle for a little, meet Sam’s girlfriend while you feel your heartbreak, and then leave. You think back to the plan that you made while you were getting ready.
You take a deep breath and let it out before knocking on the door.
When the door swings open, you’re met with a tipsy Brady.
“Jinx! You’re fin-finally here!” Brady’s words are slurred as he welcomes you into the apartment.
You gave him a tight smile in response. “Yeah, I’m here, Brady. I got held up with some homework.” You never really understood why Brady started to call you Jinx, but he’s called you that nickname so many times. Now you’re stuck with it, and now everyone in his circle (barring Sam) calls you by it.
You tolerated it, but you’ve always gotten weird vibes from Brady when Sam introduced the two of you.
Brady swung an arm around your shoulders, and you could smell the alcohol on his breath as he leaned down to speak to you.
“You ready to meet Sam’s girl?” Brady asked you slyly.
You raised an eyebrow at him. How did he know that you were meeting her for the first time?
“Oh, wipe that look off of your face, Jinxy. Sam told me before this that he was introducing his best friend to Jessica.”
“Did he tell you before or after you consumed an entire liquor cabinet?” You quipped, trying to hide the inner turmoil you were feeling.
Brady straightened up like he hadn’t been tipsy the entire time. “For your information, it was before, plus I’ve only had a couple of drinks. Besides, who do you think introduced him to Jess in the first place.” He had an all-knowing smirk on his face like he knew something that you didn’t before it turned into a sly grin.
Brady tapped your nose once before letting you go and stalking off into the living room, where you could hear everyone laughing and chatting. You huffed as you slipped off your sneakers and left them in the doorway. You wiped your hands on the back of the jeans you were wearing and decided to head to the kitchen for a drink. Being stone-cold sober while meeting Sam’s new girlfriend was not on your to-do list.
As you strolled into the kitchen, the counters covered with various bottles of liquor and red solo cups, you froze as you saw Sam leaning on one of the counters and talking animatedly with a blonde who was almost his height and was standing right in front of him.
From the entryway of the kitchen, you saw the adoration for this girl in his eyes as he spoke. Suddenly, his hazel eyes were torn away from the woman standing in front of him as he glanced around the kitchen before they landed on your form. Sam brightened, the dimples on his face becoming more prominent as he called out your name and gestured for you to come closer.
As you made your way over to the pair, the blonde turned around to face you, and you faltered in your steps as your eyes studied her.
God, she was stunning. You thought as you approached the two of them.
Sam had stopped leaning on the counter by the time you made it to him and wrapped you up in a big bear hug. You stumbled from its sudden force, but you couldn’t help but melt into his embrace as you chuckled at his antics.
“You’ve had a few already, haven’t you?” You asked as you pulled back to see the tell-tale signs of Sam being tipsy. His cheeks were flushed as his bangs kept falling in his eyes, but a big silly smile was on his face as he nodded.
You pulled away from him entirely as he pulled Jessica into his side.
“Jess, this is my best friend.” He gave her your name. “And this is Jessica, my girlfriend,” Sam said with a toothy smile and shot Jessica a loving look.
“It’s so nice to meet you! Sam’s told me so much about you, but he forgot to mention how pretty you were!”
You were taken aback by the sudden compliment from Jessica. “It’s nice to meet you too.” You said it with a kind smile, though it felt like you were pulling teeth as the words fell from your mouth.
The three of you fell into a comfortable conversation as you went and grabbed a drink for yourself. But, as the night went on and the three of you eventually moved into the living room, you got separated from the two of them.
As you were talking to some of your friends there, your eyes always looked at Sam and Jessica. You can see why Sam had fallen for Jess as you saw them interact with each other. You hated it so much. You quickly excused yourself as you saw them cozy up to one another and sharing stolen glances and touches.
You managed to escape to the bathroom, which was empty (thankfully), and you locked yourself in the small space to try and compose yourself. A lump formed in your throat as you stared at yourself in the mirror, feeling like the world was closing in on itself.
When did they meet? It’s not fair; I have known him longer than she has. I’ve loved him longer. Why did he choose her? Why couldn’t he have chosen me? Your mind was spiraling, and all you wanted to do was scream.
Jessica had everything you wanted.
Without realizing it, hot tears started to stream down your face. You quickly wiped away your tears and made sure you looked like you hadn’t been crying. You made your way out of the bathroom and almost bumped into Jess in the process.
Excellent, the one person I didn’t want to see. You thought bitterly to yourself.
“Sorry.” You muttered as you kept your head down and made room for Jess to go into the bathroom.
“Hey, wait!” Jess called out to you before you could take another step down the hallway. You grit your teeth before plastering on a small smile and turning around.
“Yeah?” You ask.
“Are you okay?” She questioned kindly as she stood in the doorway of the bathroom. The warm lighting simulated the glow of a halo that surrounded her.
Not trusting my voice, I nodded at her in response.
“You sure? I don’t mean to pry-” Then don’t. “But your eyes are a little red.” Jess gestured to her own eyes as an example.
You waved her concern off. “I’m fine, my allergies are acting up right now.”
Jess didn’t look convinced, but she let it go. “Oh, before I forget, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out with me sometime?”
Not really. “Yeah, I would love to.” I gave her a tight smile.
Jess smiled brightly before gesturing she was heading into the bathroom and closing the door. My smile fell as I sighed deeply. I ran my hand down my face tiredly as I stalked down the dim hallway and back into the living room, where everyone was hanging out. I saw Sam throw his head back in laughter, making me smile, and my heart beat a little faster before my smile faltered.
The image of Jessica's blinding smile when she looked at Sam and his loving gaze on his blonde bombshell of a girlfriend slithered into my mind and started to poison it. So before anyone could spot me, I quickly made my way to the doorway, put on my shoes, and left.
Ever since that night, Jessica managed to worm her way into your life and yours into hers. She managed to get your number and texted you if you wanted to meet up and hang out. At first, you tried to say no to her outright, but Jess managed to break through your defenses, and you found yourself hanging out with her after class.
You despised the fact that you grew to enjoy her company, but Jess made it hard to hate her, and it seemed that she genuinely liked you and considered you a good friend. You hated when she gave you compliments, whether it was on your quick wit or looks.
You hated the warm feeling that would bloom in your chest, and she made it a point to do it often, making it feel like bullets raining down on your skin every time she did.
Phantom blood ran down from your imaginary wounds as you responded to her compliments with a tight smile and a 'thank you' being forced from your lips as you tried to swallow the lump at the back of your throat.
She’d confide in you, and you couldn’t help but be drawn to do the same.
“You know, I was worried that you weren’t going to like me at first,” Jess expressed to you when you were hanging out at her and Sam’s apartment.
You looked up from the book you were reading. “What do you mean?” You felt your stomach twist and knot up at her admission.
Jess stopped crocheting the scarf she was planning to give to Sam for Christmas. “I heard so much about you from Sam.” She paused, biting her bottom lip before continuing. “I guess I was just worried that I wouldn’t make a good impression.”
“Oh.” You were surprised that she had to worry about her impressing you. “If it makes you feel any better I felt the same way when we first met.” You sent her a reassuring smile, but you weren’t sure if it came off genuine, trying to conceal your own inner conflict, but considering how Jess’s eyes brightened and sent a dazzling smile at your admission, it was.
From then on, the three of you became as close as the three musketeers, hanging out often and sticking by each other’s sides. Sam and Jess never tried to make you feel like a third wheel.
Still, you would catch the loving looks they would send each other or catch them sharing a soft kiss whenever they thought you weren’t paying attention when you guys would have movie nights at their apartment.
Those nights would be the worst, having Sam and Jess insist that you sleep over at their apartment when it was too late to go back to your dorm that was on campus. You could hear the low groans and high-pitched whines coming from their shared room, trying to be quiet, thinking that you were dead asleep.
So you had to pretend that you were sound asleep and not clutching the blanket that they gave you close to your chest, trying to ignore the sounds spilling out from their room and into your ears. The ugly monster that emerged ever since you met Jess tried to claw its way out from your chest. You had to pretend that you didn’t slip your hand in between your legs and get off at the sound of them, coming at the same time Jess did and imagined that you were either Sam or Jess (sometimes you thought about being in between them).
You tried distancing yourself from them for your own sanity and salvaging the pieces of your heart that had broken a long time ago. But Jess, she was insistent, and you couldn’t ignore the beacon of light she emitted. You didn’t know if you wanted to be her or be Sam more.
Sam wasn’t yours, you knew that. Jess had him the second Brady introduced them, and it fucking sucked. Sam only saw you as his best friend, one of the first ones he made when he came to Stanford all of those years ago. The monster that lived inside of you only grew the longer you saw Sam and Jess together. It morphed into something that you could never imagine could grow inside of you. You managed to mask it and push it down, but it always loomed over you like a storm cloud threatening to strike you down at any moment.
You felt like some higher power was mocking you and rubbing it in your face that Sam and Jess were the perfect couple. Both of them were gorgeous, incredibly smart, empathetic, and kind. They were incredible human beings, and it was practically a match made in heaven, especially the way that they were together.
But there was always some part of you, more specifically the monster, who wanted them to break up, hoping that Jess was secretly a terrible person so you’d be the person to pick up the pieces for Sam. But your hopes were dashed, and your heart splintered even more, the monster, roaring, screaming, clawing at your throat, trying to escape the confines of your body when Sam asked you to come along to pick out engagement rings.
[here's my taglist; read rules before sending in an ask]
#daisy writes#im sorry there's no happy ending#one of my first attempts at writing pure angst for sam#hope you guys enjoy#sam winchester#sammy my boy#sam winchester x reader#sam winchester x you#sam winchester x gn reader#sam winchester x gn! reader#sam winchester x afab reader#sam winchester x afab! reader#sam winchester one shot#sam winchester angst#sam winchester fanfiction#sam winchester fanfics#supernatural#spn#supernatural x reader#spn x reader#supernatural angst#supernatural fanfiction#spn fanfiction#sam winchester x jessica moore
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hiiii! the anon who requested the Mike x fem!reader fic here. please don't apologise, I can totally understand😭😭 the show's too addictive, I binged watched the first few seasons really quick too, you can take your time🫶🏾
HII IM SO SORRY FHIS TOOK SO LONG GRR. honestly, i really struggled w this 😭 i didn’t make it very long or defined (i wanted this to set the tone of their relationship), and i left it pretty open ended (on purpose) so it could be built off of in other continuations as maybe a clientsdaughter!reader 🙂↕️thank u sm for the ask & i hope u enjoy!! (this is ass)
mike ross x fem!clientsdaughter!reader
mike had learned a countless amount of knowledge since joining the firm. how to talk to people, how to negotiate, how to work, how to win. along with this, he also learned the workings of the office itself — more so the people that were in it.
kyle talks to his girlfriends throughout the day. it’s often mike can catch him leaned back in his chair, not-so-discreetly checking his phone, eyebrows raising as he clicks on the selfie he was sent.
louis keeps his favorite breakfast bars in the top cabinet. rachel chews her lip when she’s thinking. the fax machine only listens to donna — don’t mention if harvey’s having a bad hair day, he knows.
oh. and don’t sleep with clients.
not getting involved with clients was a general rule of thumb. according to harvey, the less emotion involved, the better. even so, harvey himself was guilty of sleeping with a few clients — after business was done, of course. but that was different. harvey was harvey, and mike was a first year associate, already tap dancing on thin ice. he could absolutely not afford to break any rules — no matter how unspoken they might be.
truly, it was all going fine. until he met you.
you & your father are in the racehorse industry. famous for the record breaking times your horses submit (& the world-class conditions they’re always in), thousands come to the races to bet on them. your family has been breeding, training, and racing horses for decades, and your father loves his job. there’s only one issue.
he’s currently being sued for “wrongful termination” by an ex employee. the employee mistreated multiple horses during his time working for you & your father. once you both found out, he was gone.
now, 4 months later, when your most famous horse “knights honor” has died, the employee is claiming the horse was milkshaked before his races (he was not).
“Milkshaked? What the hell is that?”
harvey’s voice carried through his office as jessica presented the case to him & mike. your father was a friend to her, and it was important that harvey got this done. mike remembers the article he read years ago on racehorses when knights honor won his first championship.
“In the context of horse racing and illegal substances, a milkshake is any compound or combination of compounds administered to a horse, pre-race, for the purpose of causing.. metabolic alkalosis of the blood and extracellular fluid of that horse. Although, a previous widely used method to ensure placing times, milkshakes are a prohibited practice on race day in all U.S. jurisdictions.”
harvey and jessica exchange looks between themselves & mike. they're about to raise questions when donna's voice crackles through harvey's phone.
"Translation: Its when the horses are given a “milkshake” of different drugs before a race. It can kill fatigue and improve their endurance."
all heads look down to the phone, then at donna's desk. donna's already looking their way, of course, and she swallows under their field of vision. she shrugs.
"What? I can't.. watch tv?"
she abruptly puts the phone down, turning her chair around to type on her computer. jessica clears her throat.
"Tom is an old friend. He's genuine."
harvey interrupts. "You need me to make it go away.”
“No. This could tarnish his entire reputation… his life’s work. I need you to kill this thing in its tracks. Get it done.”
with that, jessica turns & exists the office. harvey sighs, skimming over the case file jessica dropped on his desk. he looks at mike.
“Find the daughter. Find out everything — previous arrests, divorces, a stolen tangerine from publix- I wanna know about it.”
mike nods, offering a-
“Yes, captain,”
(which makes harvey give him an exasperated look) before he retreats back to his cubicle, moving to start his manhunt. donna winks as he passes her desk.
꧁——————————————————꧂
“No, he doesn’t.”
you can sense the presence of the associate approaching behind you. you quickly thank the man working the stand as he hands you your pretzel, and you turn to face harvey’s right-hand. mike ross.
“I- You don’t even know what I was about to say.”
“Yes, I do.”
he’s cute. pretty blue eyes, a photographic memory, and a boyish charm that you can’t say you’re immune to.
“You were about to ask if he’s had any previous arrests. No, never.”
mike shakes his head. “Sorcery. Speeding tickets?”
you turn to look at him with an exasperated look. “No, officer.” he smiles.
“How did you know? That I’d ask.”
you shrug. “Ancient blood magic.”
a few moments of silence pass, and he’s silently moving his head in tune with his thoughts — like he actually believes you. you decide on mercy.
“It’s the first question lawyers always ask.”
“Ah. Been through this before?”
you shrug.
“Do you always stalk your clients?”
he doesn’t miss a beat. “Only the pretty ones- a hobby of mine.”
you hum, breaking off a piece of your pretzel and handing it to him. he sighs, leaning back.
“Oh you sweet, sweet angel.”
you both continue your walk to pearson/hardman, wanting to get there early to prep for the deposition today. mike breaks the silence once he’s done chewing.
“Do you always feed your lawyers?”
“Only the cute ones,” you break off another piece, handing it to him. “Its a hobby of mine.”
꧁——————————————————꧂
the elevator rings, signifying the end to your journey. mike is in disbelief as you step out of the elevator — mind trying to wrap around your last statement.
“What- are you serious?”
“As a heart attack.”
mike moves to catch up with you. “Okay, multimillion-dollar horse racing company, and you just.. have no security cameras? Zero?”
you turn to face him, giving him a defiant look that makes his heart flutter.
“I don’t see any cameras around here.”
as you approach the glass-doored conference room, mike opens the door for you.
“Touché.”
you shoot him a look across your shoulder before you move to greet your father, already waiting. mike pauses outside, staring, as you hug your father, no doubt offering some sort of reassurance.
“No.”
mikes head snaps toward the voice, harvey’s un-foreseen presence making him jump a little. mike looks around a bit.
“I.. didn’t even-“
harvey points a finger at mike, then at you, then slowly wags it back and forth for dramatics. mike sighs, looking around and putting his hands in his pockets, waiting for his scolding to be done.
“Harvey-“
“Uh uh.”
“Harvey.”
harvey continues his finger wag. “Micheal.”
“Harvey.”
harvey walks backwards towards the door, opening it with his free hand. “Don’t.. do it.”
mike rolls his eyes, following harvey into the room.
okay. don’t get with the funniest, most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. got it. easy.
easy. right?
the look you give him as he sits down proves him otherwise.
#suits usa#suits tv#suits#mike ross#mike ross x reader#mike ross x you#please this is so ass it’s not even funny#i really truly hate this#BUT#i feel so bad for making u wait so long anon 😭😭#i’ll post a proper fic of this in a few days 😈😈#guys what if we all just collectively ignored this#i feel like i can’t write good dialogue for mike or harvey shoot me#i literally hate it here#ALRIGHT#TIME TO HIT POST AND REGRET IT FOR THE NEXT WEEK#dippys asks
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teeth
pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader
synopsis: if you had known that talking to sunghoon at a club would lead to watching him kill the people you love, would you still talk to him?
genre: thriller (?), strangers to lovers
featuring: enhypen, yunjin, sakura, and chaewon of lsfm, yeonjun of txt, winter of aespa.
warnings: death. lots of death, murder scenes that arent graphic but still descriptive, lots of mentions of blood, attempted sexual assault, mentions of sexual assault, physical abuse, mentions of stalking, sunghoon and all of enhypen are literally murderers so… profanity, toxic relationship lol, sunghoon possessive as hell he’s crazy, sunghoon punches yeonjun a couple times, mentions of a knife. lmk if i missed anything!
word count: 18.5k
author’s note, jakehands comeback and its with an 18k psychotic murderer sunghoon fic. blame enhypen’s concept film and daphne. this is heavily unedited so please ugnore any mistakes idk if i can be bothered to read through this. also PLEASE read the warnings. please im begging you. also i call winter by her real name “minjeong” in thjs fic because…actually idk why. i just wrote it like that. u will also see many cameos of other idols that arent included in the featured and the reason for that is bcs the featured people are more Important and have dialouge! anyway. enjoy😍 and Read The Warnings.
You weren’t a frequent partygoer. You often preferred staying at home and watching whatever videos popped up on your Youtube Recommended. You usually watch Youtube video after Youtube video before you end up passing out with your phone reaching the 20% battery warning. You found comfort in the familiarity of your Youtube algorithm. But going to clubs? That was a whole other side of the world you didn’t want to touch.
How unfortunate it was, for you, to have a friend like Huh Yunjin. She was everything you weren’t; popular, friendly, a social butterfly, and a total partygoer -- if there was a party nearby, Yunjin was there. She loved parties, she loved alcohol, and she loved making out with girls and boys. Yunjin also enjoyed dragging you to said parties.
So, there you were. Standing in a club with Yunjin to your left and a girl named Sakura to your right. You had only met her a couple of minutes ago, but you were already enjoying her company. She had big eyes, kind of like the cat you had when you were younger. Her smile was extremely pretty so it was no wonder Yunjin always tried her hardest to make Sakura smile.
Sakura was in her last year of college. Soon, thanks to Jessica Day, she’ll have a teaching degree. Sakura was fun to talk to, and Yunjin made sure to include you in any conversation she had with a new face, but you still felt awkward and out of place in a club full of drunk college students clearly having the time of their lives.
“Didn’t you hear?” Sakura exclaims next to you. She was talking to Kim Chaewon. You know of her -- softball captain, an SM Town model, and she moves through guys quicker than you expected.
“Hear what?”
“They found Jaehyun’s body,” Sakura says.
You find yourself more interested in Sakura and Chaewon’s conversation than the one Yunjin was trying to insert you in with another one of her friends named Somi. Jaehyun was the soccer team’s captain for your college. He was also in his final year, and he was getting ready to lead the soccer team to victory at the upcoming championship in a few months. Last week, Jaeyun went missing.
“They found his body?” Chaewon gasps. “Where?”
“Down by the lake,” Sakura responds.
Chaewon gasps again. This eggs Sakura on, her voice dropping and you strain to hear the words she says over the loud booming music filling the club. “He was stabbed twenty-one times,” is all you could hear Sakura say.
You stand straight and push yourself away from the wall you were leaning against. “I’m going to the bathroom,” you tell Yunjin, ducking to whisper it into her ear.
“Oh!” Her untoned blonde hair shifts as she faces you, “do you want me to come with? It’s probably better if I come with --”
“I’ll be okay.”
Yunjin narrows her eyes. “Are you sure? You do know about the recent murders, right?”
You give Yunjin a smile. “I’ll be okay.”
Yunjin purses her lips. “Call me if you get into any trouble, okay?”
You roll your eyes and back away from Yunjin and her little group of friends. “Okay, mom.”
You push your way through the crowded dance floor to reach the other side of the club. Yunjin was telling you all about this club on the ride over. It was a popular club, usually filled up to its maximum capacity fifteen minutes after the club’s doors opened. You could attest to that statement as the line you saw when you arrived at the club was already pretty long.
Since the club was a popular hotspot for young adults, every face you saw was a familiar face. People like Choi Yeonjun and Hwang Hyunjin, two of the most popular dancers on your campus, had taken over the dance floor. Girls and guys flocked to the pair of them like magnets and as you watched them move effortlessly on the dance floor, you couldn’t help but wonder if they were exhausted.
Then, in the corner of the club, tucked away in a booth with cocktails in hand, sat Yuna and Lia, their eyes peering out into the crowded club and giggling as they conversed with each other in between taking sips of their drinks. They were clearly gossiping as their eyes focused on Mark Lee flirting with Choi Yena.
You duck into the hallway leading you to the bathroom. Here, it was less crowded and the music sounded further away. You could finally hear yourself breathe, and you could hear your footsteps. Pushing open the door to the female’s bathroom, you’re met with the sight of a small line beginning to form.
You smile at the girls in front of you and take your place beside them, resting on the wall beside the hand dryer. Fishing out your phone, you text Yunjin to let her know you reached the bathroom safely, before switching over to Candy Crush.
You’re able to get to a stall in no time, and as you exit the stall, feeling a bit lighter, you’re shoved to the side as a girl with her hand covering her mouth and her friends all rush into the stall. The sound of retching echoes around the bathroom. You step up to the sink and wash your hands when someone nudges your shoulder.
“Here,” Bae Sumin hands you her mascara. She’s friends with Yunjin, that’s how you know her. “You should probably retouch your mascara. Have you been wiping your eyes?”
You look in the mirror. Your mascara was slightly smudged and you smile at Sumin. “Oh, I didn’t realize.”
Sumin smiles. “Girls help girls.”
You hand Sumin back her mascara after touching up your eyelashes and you exit the bathroom, adjusting the length of your black cocktail dress so it covers more of your thighs when you bump into something hard.
You squeak and stumble back, raising your head to see a person standing in front of you. His eyes are dark and his face is hardened. Not a single emotion escapes from the male figure in front of you and your stomach drops. There’s a sinister aura clouding him and your heartbeat quickens. “S-sorry,” you stutter meekly, your eyes dropping to your feet.
“It’s okay,” his voice is warm. It contrasts his appearance; icy face, black clothes, and eyes that raise goosebumps. “You should look where you’re going next time. Especially in a club like this.”
You glance up and smile at the male in front of you. “I’ll remember that.”
“I should probably apologize as well,” the male says after some thought, “I’m in a bit of a rush so I didn’t see you. So, sorry, are you okay?”
Instead of your heart dropping to your gut, it begins to flutter.
Your cheeks redden. “Oh. I’m okay. Seriously. And you don’t need to apologize!”
There’s a whisper of a smile on the male’s face. “Alright. Enjoy the rest of your night, and stay safe.”
Your eyes follow the male as he rushes past you. “You too!” You call out, your heart racing.
After gaining no response, you compose yourself and step back out into the club. Everything is the same as it was before; Lia and Yuna gossiping in the corner, Mark flirting with Yena, and Yeonjun and Hyunjin owning the dance floor.
Yunjin makes eye contact with you as you approach the small space Yunjin and her friends occupy against the wall of the club. She beams as you and all the nervousness and awkwardness filling your body float away. Maybe going to clubs and partying wasn’t so bad.
—-
You groan and let your head drop onto the desk beneath you. The first lecture of the day just ended and even though you thought you were prepared for the course, this upcoming assignment proves how wrong you were. You would never be prepared for any of the assignments your creative writing class has.
Standing, you exit the classroom with your ears still ringing. After Yunjin had pulled you onto the dance floor, you found yourself dancing alongside Yeonjun. You allowed the older to put his hands on your hips as he guided you through the songs playing in the club and you found yourself having fun -- a lot more fun than you usually would have curled up on your bed watching Youtube video after Youtube video. As you think back to last night, you also remember the way your skin crawled with the feeling of someone watching you, but when you looked over your shoulder, you couldn’t see anyone.
Shuddering, you step into the sun and begin your brisk walk over to the cafe where you regularly meet up with Yunjin after lectures. It was probably nothing. Since you were having so much fun last night, maybe your brain had decided to try and drag you back down into the pits of distaste and regret of entering unknown territory.
Entering the cafe, you smile at the barista and join Yunjin at your usual table. She was hunched over a piece of paper in front of you, her eyebrows drawn together. “Why are you staring at the paper like that?” You ask, digging around in your shoulder bag.
“I’m writing lyrics,” Yunjin replies.
“With your mind?”
“I wish,” Yunjin groans, leaning back on the chair.
You giggle and power up your laptop. At the same time, the cafe door jingles open and a breeze rushes through the room. Someone laughs loudly and your attention is drawn to the group of boys entering the cafe.
Yunjin’s eyes widen and she sits straight in her chair. “No way. They come to this cafe too?”
You realize who the group of boys were -- Lee Heeseung, Park Jay, Sim Jake, and Park Sunghoon. They’re part of a larger group of seven. Often, whenever you mentioned the university you were attending to outsiders, immediately they thought of that group of seven. If your university was mentioned, seven names would be mentioned after.
You don’t know much about the group. They keep to themselves and never mingle outside of their small social circle. You don’t really see them around campus that much, but you are aware of how all of them excel in academics. You’re aware that Sim Jake is on the soccer team. You’re aware Lee Heeseung is on the ice hockey team, and you’re aware Park Sunghoon was a former figure skater.
Park Sunghoon.
Your eyes pass over the taller male and a realization strikes you. His handsome face; his cold aura; his silver hair and full lips -- you bumped into him at the club. You shrink in your seat and hang your head, muttering profanity.
Your cheeks flush when you think of his warm voice, and the gentle look in his eyes when he apologized. The contrasting nature of Sunghoon surprises you. You never thought someone with such a cold face would have such a warm voice -- a warm heart.
“Yunjin,” you lean across the table, your voice quiet. “I bumped into Sunghoon last night. In the club.”
Yunjin’s jaw drops. “You did?! Why didn’t you tell me? He didn’t hurt you, did he? Did he try to murder you?”
“Huh?” You were confused. “Why would he want to murder me?”
“You haven’t heard the rumors?” Yunjin asks.
“Jen, I only come to campus for my lectures,” you remind her.
“Right. Anyway, there’s a rumor going around that Sunghoon’s the one doing all the murders. People think he’s some kind of psychopath.”
You raise your eyebrows and glance over at the group of four. Jake and Sunghoon are grinning as they tease Jay who stands between them. “Psychopath?”
“Sunghoon was apparently seen with Jaehyun before he was reported missing,” Yunjin explains. “And apparently someone saw Sunghoon washing blood off his hands in a public bathroom a couple of nights back.”
You hum and sit back in your chair. “I don’t think it was Sunghoon. He apologized to me last night even though I bumped into him.”
Yunjin purses her lips but doesn’t say anything. You glance back over at the four boys and you immediately make eye contact with the topic of your conversation. Park Sunghoon’s staring back at you, his face is stoic, and your heart tremors. You attempt a hesitant smile and Sunghoon’s the first to look away.
—-
A week later you end up outside an unfamiliar house. Beside you, Yunjin is talking to a girl named Kazuha and you’re left alone to look up at the mansion-like house in front of you. People are still swarming in and out of the house and you begin to feel claustrophobic even though you haven’t entered the house.
“Jay’s house,” a voice says behind you. Turning around, you smile at Ryujin. Lia and Yeji are standing behind Ryujin, bickering with Seungmin and Hyunjin but you pay them no mind. “The first party he’s thrown in a month. His parents banned parties in their family vacation house because of the last party. His parents are out of town for the next month, though, so Jay’s going to throw all the parties he can.”
“This is their vacation home? Why do they need a vacation home in Seoul even though they live in Seoul?” You gaze back at the house in amazement.
“Rich people,” Ryujin responds. “Filthy rich.”
Yunjin reaches out and grabs your forearm. She exchanges a few words with Ryujin and then you’re being pulled into the house. It was loud and overcrowded and everywhere you looked there was alcohol. Yunjin has to practically shout to talk to you, and the flashing party lights force you to squint as you look at the person talking to you.
Sakura was by your side once more and Chaewon was also there. Chaewon greets you with a smile and immediately launches back into her conversation with Sakura. With help from Sakura, you ease into their conversation and Yunjin shoves a plastic cup of some strong alcohol into your hand. You’ve only taken a sip and the bitter taste that spilled down your throat was an uncomfortable taste.
“Jaehyun’s death has been ruled a homicide,” Sakura was saying, deeply interested in Jaehyun’s case. “The police don’t have any leads, though, so it’s basically a cold case.”
“How do you know all this stuff?” You ask Sakura.
Sakura smiles and taps her ears. “I hear everything. I’m easy to miss in a room.”
“She’s like a mouse,” Chaewon giggles.
“A mouse draws attention,” you point out. “No one likes mice.”
“I’m a fly on the wall, then,” Sakura cuts in. “Whatever I am, I’m a professional eavesdropper and gossiper.”
“Yunjin was telling me about the Park Sunghoon rumor,” you decide to test the waters. Surely Sakura and Chaewon know more about these rumors than Yunjin. “Is he really a psychopath? Did he really kill Jaehyun?”
“Park Sunghoon,” Chaewon says, rolling her eyes. “I grew up with him.”
“He is a very cold person,” Sakura muses, sipping whatever was in her plastic cup.
“Sunghoon was an odd boy,” Chaewon continues. “I don’t think he has emotions. Or empathy. His sister broke her ankle and he forced her to walk home.”
“Really?” You gasp. Maybe, Park Sunghoon was a cold person with a cold heart.
“Even some of the lecturers are afraid of him,” Sakura says, her tone all-knowing. “That’s why he easily passes hard classes -- they’re all too afraid to fail him.”
“Sunghoon liked killing things when he was younger,” Chaewon says, scowling. “I caught him stabbing a large rat and then opening up that rat.” Chaewon shudders. “The look on his face when he caught me still haunts me to this day.”
“Sunghoon also has a temper,” Sakura adds, “I’ve heard from people he’s done group projects with, that he threatened them all if they didn’t do his part of the project for him.”
You begin to feel queasy. The Park Sunghoon you’re hearing about from the people around you isn’t the Park Sunghoon you encountered all those nights ago. The Park Sunghoon you encountered was warm. He has a warm voice, and his apology was warm.
You down the rest of the alcohol in your plastic cup even though you don’t like the taste. “I need to pee,” you excuse yourself from Chaewon and Sakura and begin walking aimlessly. It would be nice if you were able to find a bathroom, but this house seems to be endless -- everywhere you walk, there are people dancing and kissing. Everywhere you walk, there is alcohol and familiar faces.
Eventually, you find some stairs and make your way up to the second floor. You pad down the hallway, the music still present but a lot more muffled. Aimlessly, you twist and turn through the maze of a hallway and eventually end up in an empty hallway.
Leaning against the wall behind you, you hang your head in your hands. All you can think about is the way Sunghoon’s eyes slightly softened when he apologized to you, and the gentle way he spoke to you when he apologized. You felt like you were going insane.
You hear quick footsteps approaching your empty hallway and you stiffen, your heart racing beneath your ribs. A familiar face rounds the corner and your face softens into a smile. Lee Jaeho was in your sociology class. He was kind to you, and always helped you study for the upcoming exams.
Jaeho seemed to be a bit dazed though. He wasn’t walking straight and when he saw you, a bright smile broke out across his face. His words slur together when he greets you and pulls you into a hug, and you know he’s off his face drunk.
“I was looking for you!” Jaeho slurs as he pulls out of the hug, still gripping to your shoulders. “I was told you were in the bathroom but I couldn’t find you! I got so worried, Y/N.”
“Ah, I’m sorry,” you apologize with a gentle smile.
“It’s okay,” Jaeho grips your hand in his and pulls you down the hallway.
“Where are we going, Jaeho?”
“We need some privacy.”
Your heart races. “Oh. Why?”
Jaeho pulls open a door and pushes you inside. The door closes and Jaeho rests his back against the door. Your hands sweat and you rub them against your skirt. “Jaeho?” You ask, unsure. “Why are we in a room?”
“Y/N,” Jaeho sounds sure of himself, even if he’s slurring his words. “I like you. I’ve liked you ever since we first talked in Freshman year.”
“Oh,” you feel speechless, “thank you for telling me, Jaeho.”
“You like me back, don’t you?”
“Oh,” you feel taken aback.
“I see the way you look at me.” Jaeho takes a step closer and you take a step back.
“What way do I look at you, Jaeho?”
Jaeho smiles but it’s a different smile. The smell of alcohol invades the room and your breath hitches. “You look at me like you want me, Y/N. I want you to.”
The back of your knees hit the bed behind you and you fall back onto the bed. Jaeho hovers over you and you feel helpless. “Jaeho,” you don’t know what to say. “I don’t like you like that. I think you’re a nice friend --”
“Don’t fucking say that shit,” Jaeho growls. Within a few seconds, his whole demeanor changes and your helplessness turns into fear. He pushes you further back onto the bed and climbs on top. Instantly, your fight or flight response kicks in.
You squirm about on the bed as Jaeho tries to keep you still. Your legs kick up and you shake your head from side to side. “Let go of me, Jaeho,” you beg, your eyes burning.
“Stop moving,” Jaeho hisses, his hands squeezing your arms tightly.
You cry out. “Jaeho --”
One of Jaeho’s hands curls around your throat and you can’t breathe. You attempt to gasp for air but it's pointless. Your legs still kick and your free hand tries to pull Jaeho’s hand away from your throat. Your eyes burn and tears begin to trail down the side of your face.
“You’re such a fucking bitch,” Jaeho groans.
Jaeho loosens his hand from restricting your right hand to the bed and you take this second of freedom to slap Jaeho across the face. Since he’s drunk, his motor movement is unbalanced. His grip loosens around your throat in shock and you use both of your hands to push Jaeho away.
You scramble off the bed and race over to the door.
“Y/N --” Jaeho calls your name. He grabs your wrist as you go to tug open the door.
“Let go of me,” you hiss, anger overtaking the fear.
“Y/N -- I’m sorry -- I --” Jaeho stumbles over his apology, the alcohol influencing his words and actions.
Turning back around, you see red and backhand Jaeho across the face. His head turns sharply to the side and his cheek begins to bleed -- the rings on your fingers must’ve cut into his skin from how hard you backhanded him.
Jaeho turns to look at you and fear replaces the anger you were feeling previously. With a racing heart, you tug open the door and race down the hallway, Jaeho calling your name as he follows you out. Tears stream down your face as you try to find your way back to the party. Maybe you should’ve asked Yunjin to take you to the bathroom.
Impulsively, you open a door leading to another room and dive inside, shutting the door behind you. You slump against the wall beside the door and cover your mouth with your hand as Jaeho goes charging past the room. Your chest rises and falls rapidly and you can’t stop the tears.
You don’t know how long you spend in the dark room, your hand pressed to your mouth to muffle your whimpers, when the door opens suddenly. Your hand falls away from your mouth and you whimper as you fall away from the wall.
The silence is loud and you slowly look up, hoping who you see isn’t Jaeho but Yunjin.
Park Sunghoon stands above you, frowning. “Y/N?”
Your hands cover your face as you break out into sobs. Relief floods your body. You’re glad that it wasn’t Jaeho who opened that door, but Sunghoon -- who is perceived as a psychopathic murderer and you should probably feel even more afraid, but you don’t. Because facing a suspected murderer is better than being assaulted at the hands of a friend.
Hands gently pull your own away from your face. A finger tilts your chin up and you’re looking at Sunghoon again. He’s crouching in front of you, his eyes soft. His thumbs press against your cheeks and brush away the tears streaming down your cheeks. You feel warm in Sunghoon’s presence.
“Y/N,” Sunghoon says your name again. “What happened?” His voice is light. It’s not like Jaeho’s tough and demanding tone.
You only shake your head and cry some more in response. You can still feel the phantom squeeze of Jaeho’s hands on your throat.
The fingers curled around your chin tighten ever so slightly. “Y/N,” Sunghoon’s voice is deeper and a bit demanding -- like Jaeho’s voice moments before, but you don’t feel scared, you still feel safe. “Tell me what happened.”
You inhale sharply and focus on Sunghoon’s face. His eyes are no longer soft, instead, they’re the familiar darkness you saw when you first met him. His lips are screwed into a straight line. His face is cold, but his hands and his heart are warm. “Jaeho,” you whisper. “He --” gently, your hand brushes against your neck. “He strangled me.”
Sunghoon doesn’t say anything. His hands slip away from your face and he rises to his feet. “Your friends are worried about you, Y/N. Let’s go back to the party.” You take his outstretched hand and stand. You wipe away the last of your tears and follow Sunghoon out of the room.
“Did Jaeho do anything else?” Sunghoon asks. You have to quicken your pace to keep up with Sunghoon’s long strides. He easily moves through the house which reminds you that he’s friends with the owner of this house.
You don’t say anything in response to Sunghoon. Should you tell him or not? Would he believe you or not? Would he excuse Jaeho’s actions by saying he was drunk and drunk people don’t know what they’re doing?
“Y/N,” Sunghoon interrupts your thoughts. “I asked you a question.”
“He didn’t do anything else,” you say quietly.
Sunghoon huffs and grips your shoulders, forcing you to stop walking. The two of you stand in the middle of the dark hallway, Sunghoon’s face close to yours as he bends down to meet your eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Why do you care so much?” You retort, curiosity finally appearing through the fear you felt. Why did Sunghoon care so much about you? And what Jaeho did to you? You don’t even know Sunghoon. You just know he attends your college and hangs out with six other boys. (You also know about the rumors, but you don’t care for them because Sunghoon’s shown he’s not the psychopathic murderer the rumors say he is.)
“Because no man should ever lay his hands on a woman,” was Sunghoon’s response. “So, I’ll ask you again. Did Jaeho do anything else?”
Sunghoon’s eyes shine with intent -- he meant what he said. You find some kind of relief looking into Sunghoon’s eyes, you would have someone on your side. “Jaeho, he -- he said he liked me, and then he --” you break off your sentence and shrug. You can’t seem to force the bitter words out of your mouth. He almost forced me to have sex with him.
“I understand,” Sunghoon says in response. He turns away, but you catch his hand.
“You won’t tell anyone, will you?” You ask Sunghoon.
“Do you want me to?”
You shake your head. “Please don’t tell anyone. Don’t tell my friends. Can you keep this between us? Please?” Your eyes are wide as you beg Sunghoon, and you grip his hand tightly. You really don’t want anyone finding out about what happened between you and Jaeho.
Sunghoon smiles softly. “I’ll take it to my grave, Y/N.”
“Thank you, Sunghoon,” you sigh in relief.
“There’s no need to thank me yet, Y/N,” Sunghoon hums. “Which Jaeho are we talking about, by the way?”
“Lee Jaeho,” you descend the stairs leading to the party with Sunghoon. The music sounds louder than it was before. “He was in our Freshman sociology class.”
“I hated that class,” Sunghoon grumbles.
You giggle and Sunghoon’s eyes light up.
—-
The morning after, you exit your lecture with your phone buzzing away in your pocket. Jaeho had been trying to contact you all day, and now that it was late afternoon, you were beginning to grow tired of his spam messages.
Scowling, you reach into your pocket and pull out your phone. Jaeho’s messages fill up your lock screen and as you scroll through all his messages to try and find a worthwhile notification, the glare of the sun fades away.
“Y/N.”
Looking up, Sunghoon is standing in the way of the sun beaming down on you. “Sunghoon,” you were surprised to find the male outside your lecture. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you,” Sunghoon responds easily. “Where are you going now?”
“To the cafe on campus. I usually meet up with Yunjin there after all our lectures are finished,” you explain to Sunghoon as he falls into step beside you.
“I’ll walk you there,” Sunghoon says, smiling softly.
Your heart flutters.
“Has Jaeho tried to talk to you?” Sunghoon asks.
Your smile is tight. “He’s been messaging me all day. It’s getting annoying.”
“Will you hear him out?”
“Fuck no. I’ll never forgive him for what he did, even if he was drunk.”
“Being drunk is no excuse, Y/N,” Sunghoon says.
You hum. “Yeah. How do you even know who I am, anyway?” You look at Sunghoon eagerly, the curiosity within you brimming. Ever since Sunghoon uttered your name last night, you had been curious -- how did Sunghoon know who you were? And why did he care this badly about you? It wasn’t like you were in the same circle as him. You’ve been holed up in your dorm for most of your college life, and the one time you go out to party, you somehow get involved with Park Sunghoon.
Sunghoon laughs like you just asked him an incredibly bizarre question. “Y/N, we had classes together freshman year. Don’t you remember?”
“Of course I remember!” You splutter, your cheeks heating up. “I didn’t expect you to remember.”
Sunghoon raises an eyebrow. “You’re not easy to forget, Y/N.”
It’s like you forget how to function. You’re not easy to forget. Who just says that? You can’t breathe and you can’t feel your heart beating. Your fingers feel numb and your stomach is an ocean of butterflies. And this is all because of Sunghoon. The so-called psychotic murderer.
“You can’t just say that, Sunghoon!” You exclaim, your cheeks heating up.
Sunghoon shrugs. “It’s true. You were the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen -- still the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”
(Sunghoon’s words were driving you crazy -- why? Because it’s been two years since your last relationship. Having someone talk about you like this is only furthering your growing infatuation with the taller, brooding boy.)
“I was always jealous whenever you talked to other guys.”
“Excuse me?” You were taken aback by this piece of news. Sunghoon was jealous? Back in freshman year?
“I wanted to be the one you talked to,” Sunghoon admits with ease. “I wanted all of your attention.”
You truly don’t know what to think. Sunghoon’s words are driving you crazy. There’s so much to take in. There’s so much to discover you probably won’t sleep at all tonight.
“Oh, we’re here,” Sunghoon doesn’t sound too happy. It’s a shame your heart feels the same way. You don’t want to leave Sunghoon’s side, but from the way Yunjin’s looking at you from inside the cafe, you won’t be allowed to ditch this hangout.
“Thank you for walking me, Sunghoon,” you say. “It was nice talking to you.”
“Likewise. Do you have my number?”
Seriously. Sunghoon never fails to surprise you.
“No.”
“Do you want my number?”
You pull out your phone in lieu of a response.
“Text or call me if you see Jaeho,” Sunghoon says, waving goodbye after you exchange numbers. “I’ll answer right away.”
You snort and Sunghoon frowns. “I’m serious, Y/N.”
You hate how his words warm you.
“See you around, Sunghoon.”
“Definitely,” Sunghoon grins and you step into the cafe, exhaling deeply.
—-
An alumnus of your university was found dead in the alleyway beside your dorm building. His name was Taeyong. You remember him as the senior that always vaped during his lectures. He was a nice guy, though, always ready to help out anyone who asked for help.
You can’t help but shiver every time you pass by the crime scene all taped up with yellow tape hindering anyone from entering the scene. It’s been a few days since Sunghoon walked you to the cafe -- that was also the day Taeyon was killed. His time of death was put at around 11:30 PM. His death has also been ruled as a homicide.
You’ve been texting Sunghoon often. Most of the texts are short and dry, but seeing Sunghoon’s text notifications amidst all of Jaeho’s makes your heart leap in excitement. Anything to do with Sunghoon sends your heart into overdrive after his smooth talking a couple of days back.
Other than Sunghoon’s texts brightening your day, you’ve been on edge walking back to your dorm in the late hours of the evening. You can’t help but feel like someone’s watching you walk back to your dorm. Your spine always tingles and your heartbeat is loud in your ears as you walk home. You don’t listen to music anymore, opting to stay alert in case you’re the next victim of whoever is killing the students who attend your university.
“You’re still talking to Sunghoon?” Yunjin asks, peering over your shoulder as you text Sunghoon while you were both at the cafe.
“Yep.”
“He’s a murderer, Y/N.”
You snort and glance at Yunjin. “It’s rumored he’s a murderer. I don’t understand why anyone would listen to what comes out of Minjeong’s mouth anyway. She’s always talking bullshit.”
“Y/N…” Yunjin sighs.
“I know,” you reply softly. “But I’m fine. Seriously. Sunghoon treats me nicely. You don’t have to be so afraid, Jen. I know you mean well, but can’t you trust me?”
“Fine,” Yunjin scowls. “But just so you know, I have an ‘I told you so’ ready.”
You grin. “Of course you do. I should probably get going, my shift starts soon.” You rise from your sit and wave goodbye to Yunjin as you exit the cafe. You work at a nearby convenience store, the owner of the convenience store was quite nice so you didn’t mind working there, but the shifts you got were sometimes not ideal.
Today, you had the five to ten shift. When you got there, you exchanged a few words with your coworker that was leaving and then you begin to serve the customers entering the store. Slowly, the amount of customers entering the exiting the store dies down and you begin to pass the time by playing games on your phone.
You’re so focused on the game you’re playing that you don't hear the familiar bell jingling to alert you to a new customer, nor do you hear voices loudly discussing what they wanted to buy. You curse under your breath as you fail the Candy Crush level once more, and someone clears their throat.
The familiar faces of Jay, Heeseung, and Jake all stare at you as a blush quickly rises to your cheeks. “Oh. Hi! Sorry about that,” you push your phone out of view and begin to scan their items. “Would you like a bag?”
“Sure,” Jay says.
It’s awkward as you scan their items.
“You’re Y/N, right?” Jay finally breaks the silence.
“Yeah.” You don’t know why your heart begins to race.
“Why are you involving yourself with Sunghoon?”
“Pardon?” You glance up at Jay, frowning.
“You’re aware of the rumors, right?” Jay asks with a shrug, “I just don’t know why you would hang around Sunghoon.”
You snort. “I think I should be the one asking you that. You’re his friends, after all.”
“Brothers,” Jake pipes up. “We’re brothers. We grew up together.”
“Oh,” you smile at Jake. “That’s cute.”
“Look,” Jay says, bringing your attention back to him. “All I’m saying is that you should be careful, Y/N.”
You ignore Jay and read out the total showing on your screen. “Are you trying to say there’s some truth to those rumors?” You ask as Jay searches for his wallet.
Jay looks at you for a long time. You begin to feel uneasy and your stomach swoops. With the way Jay’s looking at you, there must be some kind of truth to the rumors swirling about. Maybe Sunghoon is a murderer. Maybe you’re his next victim.
You try to play off the unease you feel. “Whatever. I’m my own person, I can make my own assumptions about people. I don’t appreciate people telling me who I should and shouldn’t talk to, or hang out with. Would you like your receipt?”
“Sure,” Jay holds his hand out. “Keep the change, though. I don’t need it.”
“Sure, whatever.” You hate how easily Jay got underneath your skin.
“Look, Y/N, just be careful, okay?” Jay says gently. “You have Sunghoon’s number, right?”
You nod your head.
“Don’t be afraid to call it. See you around.” Jay nods his head at you and turns around, leaving the store with Jake. Heeseung hangs back and turns to you, smiling lightly. “Could I have the change? Jay may not need it, but I do.”
“Sure,” you hand Heeseung the change.
“Jay means well,” Heeseung says, pocketing the change. “He’s just… overprotective.”
“I guess that’s understandable.”
“And, seriously, don’t hesitate to call Sunghoon when you need to escape a…sticky situation.” You watch as Heeseung’s face lights up while he talks and you feel as though you’re being left out of an inside joke.
“Heeseung,” Jake calls out, poking his head into the convenience store. “C’mon, we have things to do.”
“See you, Y/N.” Heeseung salutes you goodbye before exiting the store, leaving you all alone.
The three boys leave you alone with your thoughts for the rest of your shift. Your shift rushes by quickly, and before you know it, you’re exiting the convenience store into the windy night. Shuddering, you tug your coat closer and begin your walk back to your dorm.
Pulling out your phone, you shoot Yunjin a text to let her know you’re on your way home. After pocketing your phone, a hand reaches out and clamps over your mouth before pulling you into a nearby alley. Your shrieks are muffled by the hand and your arms are restrained as you’re pulled further into the alley.
You’re thrown onto the ground, your knees scraping the ground harshly, and your palms begin to sting. Huffing, you push your hair out of your face and look up to see Jaeho standing over you. Your eyes widen in fear and you struggle to stand. Your legs feel numb and your heart is racing at an incredible pace it makes you feel lightheaded.
“Jaeho?”
“Y/N,” Jaeho doesn’t sound happy. The tone of his voice sets you on edge and you immediately begin to search for a way out. “Why haven’t you been responding to me?”
You look back at Jaeho. “You pulled me into an alley to ask that?”
“Don’t play with me, Y/N,” Jaeho threatens. “If you scream no one will hear you.” He takes a step forward and you take a step back, hitting the cold brick wall.
“You’re a piece of shit, Jaeho, that’s why I wasn’t responding.”
Jaeho slaps you across the face. It stings and you take a deep, shuddering breath. Your hands curl into fists and you try to keep your emotions under control.
“How many more times do you want me to say sorry, Y/N? I was drunk, I wasn’t thinking straight -- I didn’t mean what I did that night. Why are you acting like such a bitch about it? You know you can reject me, right? I’m not going to make a big deal about it.”
“I’ve already rejected you, Jaeho,” you spit. “I did it the night you almost tried to have sex with me, and I’ve been doing it for the past few days by not responding to you. God, can’t you take the hint? I’m not interested. You’re so stupid.”
Jaeho takes a step back and holds up his hands. “I obviously don’t remember you rejecting me while I was drunk. But, thank you for finally giving me a clear rejection. Now, I’ll apologize once more. Sorry, Y/N. Can we be friends again?”
“Why the fuck would I want to be friends with a rapist and an abuser, Jaeho?”
“You fucking bitch --”
“Get away from me!” You shriek, using all your strength to push Jaeho back. He stumbles over the trash bags sitting behind him and there’s a loud whacking sound as his head makes contact with the edge of the large garbage container. Jaeho slumps to the ground, not moving.
You’re suspended in time. You stare at Jaeho’s lifeless body. Something weird simmers in your stomach and you contemplate turning and leaving Jaeho to rot away in this alley. A car backfiring sends the world spinning and you snap out of your daze.
“Holy shit. Fuck. Fuck. Jaeho?” You rush over to Jaeho and reach out to shake him. He flops around lifelessly. “This is so not funny, Jaeho. Fuck. Wake up!” After a minute of trying to shake Jaeho awake, you sit back on your heels and bury your head in your hands. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” You repeat over and over.
Your hands shake as you pull out your phone. You open up Yunjin’s contact information but gnaw on your bottom lip as your finger hovers over the call button. You look back at Jaeho lying lifelessly in front of you, the side of his head bleeding profusely before you exit Yunjin’s contact and click on Sunghoon’s.
It only rings once.
“Y/N?”
“Oh my god. Sunghoon. I -- I need your help.”
“Y/N? Where are you?”
“Sunghoon, I think I just -- oh my god.”
“Y/N. Where are you?”
You break out into loud sobs. “I didn’t mean to do it. I swear, Sunghoon. I swear.”
“Y/N --”
“I’m down some alley,” you say between your sobs. “I don’t know where I am. Jaeho dragged me here.”
Sunghoon swears and you hear muffled voices. “Stay where you are, I’ll find you.” The call ends and you’re left alone with Jaeho’s lifeless body. You try to muffle your sobs and steady the beating of your heart but it doesn’t work as images of Jaeho hitting his head against the metal garbage container replay over and over.
“Y/N.” A voice shouts down the alleyway some minutes later. Then you hear footsteps rapidly hitting the ground and slowly, Sunghoon comes into view. “Y/N,” he says again, this time in relief.
Sunghoon pulls you up and cups your face gently. He wipes away your tears again and smooths out your hair. “What happened, Y/N? Are you hurt? Are you okay?” His rapid questions and the warm concern in his eyes make your head hurt. You just want to be in your dorm already, tucked beneath your blankets next to Yunjn.
“Sunghoon,” you whisper. “It was an accident. I didn’t mean to kill him.”
“What? Kill who?” Sunghoon’s hands grip your face tighter and he pulls you close. His whole demeanor changes after hearing your previous words.
“Behind you.”
Sunghoon turns and finally sees Jaeho’s body -- except, you see him sitting up. You gasp and break free from Sunghoon, crouching down beside Jaeho. He blinks a couple of times and glances around his surroundings as though he was trying to remember how he got here.
“Jaeho,” you cry out. “Oh my god I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to --”
Jaeho grabs your wrist tightly, a vicious sneer carved on his face. “You slut. Are you trying to kill me? Why would you fucking push me like that? You’re not getting away with this, Y/N.”
“No -- Jaeho -- I --”
“Y/N. Move away.”
Looking over your shoulder, you see Sunghoon staring down at both of you with a cold expression. A metal pipe dangles in his right hand.
“Sunghoon?”
“Move away,” he repeats, now looking at Jaeho.
You move to the side, Jaeho’s hand easily slipping away from your wrist.
“When did you get here?” Jaeho’s sneer falls off his face as Sunghoon corners him against the garbage container. Jaeho’s eyes flit over to you. “Did the fucking bitch call you? Of course she did. Y/N starts arguments she can’t finish because she’s pathetic. All bark no bite.”
Sunghoon crouches down in front of Jaeho and presses his fingers against the cut on the side of his head. Jaeho flinches. Pulling his fingers away, they’re covered in blood, and the smile that spreads across Sunghoon’s face chills you to the bone.
Slowly, Sunghoon licks Jaeho’s blood off his fingers. You can’t look away.
“What the fuck, man?” Jaeho exclaims.
Rising to his feet, the smile slips from Sunghoon’s face. He raises the metal pipe in his right hand and swings it through the air, whacking Jaeho in the head with it. The boy cries out and sprawls across the concrete, his hands coming up to clutch the side of his face.
Sunghoon doesn’t stop. He swings the metal pole through the air and hits Jaeho again. And again. This time, with two hands. Jaeho can’t defend himself as Sunghoon hits him in the head with the pole over and over again. You can’t move, your hands covering your mouth as you watch blood splatter the concrete beneath Jaeho, the brick wall beside him, the garbage container behind him, and Sunghoon in front of him.
Sunghoon stops once Jaeho is no longer whimpering in pain. The bloody metal pole drops to the ground and Sunghoon turns around, brushing his hair away from his face. There’s a bloodlust look on his face that uproots your body and you begin to move away from Sunghoon as he steps forward.
“Get the fuck away from me,” you warn shakily.
Sunghoon doesn’t listen and he continues to walk closer.
“I’m serious, Sunghoon. Why the fuck did you do that?”
“Do what, Y/N?” Sunghoon asks.
“I’m not in the mood for this. You just fucking murdered Jaeho.”
“He was going to die anyway,” Sunghoon shrugs.
“What the fuck,” you whisper. “You’re crazy.”
Sunghoon grins in response and you open your mouth to scream. In a matter of seconds Sunghoon has you pushed back up against the brick wall, a hand over mouth while his other arm is lightly pressed against your throat.
“Are you fucking dumb, Y/N?” Sunghoon hisses. “Why the fuck would you scream? You do know this is now considered a crime scene, right? If you scream, you’ll attract attention, and I don’t think you want attention right now considering you watched me beat Jaeho to death.”
Reality finally sinks in for you. “Oh my god,” you say. “You killed Jaeho and I -- I watched. Oh my god. I didn’t stop you. Oh my god.” Your head spins and everything feels woozy. Your knees give out but Sunghoon is there to catch you.
“Y/N, listen to me,” Sunghoon demands. “Let me make a call. And then, I’m going to walk you back to your dorm. You’ll take a shower, eat something, and maybe drink something, and then you’ll go to bed, okay? Let me handle Jaeho. I’ll come for you when everything has been handled. Do not call or text me, okay?”
You don’t say anything. You still feel like you’re floating.
Sunghoon’s hands squish your cheeks as he shakes your head from side to side. “Y/N. Say something. I need to know you understand me.”
“Yes.” You blurt. “Okay. I understand.”
Sunghoon smiles gently and you don’t understand how he could smile like that after ruthlessly murdering someone. You feel Sunghoon kiss your forehead. “You did a good job, okay?” Sunghoon pulls away from you and helps you to the ground, letting you draw your knees to your chest. “You should always call me before you call anyone else, okay? I’ll always be there to help you.”
You nod your head.
Sunghoon tsks. “Repeat after me, Y/N. You’ll call me before you call anyone else.”
“I’ll call you before I call anyone else,” you repeat in a small voice.
Sunghoon smiles, his hand running through your hair and caressing your cheek. “Good girl.” He stands and walks away, and you bury your head into your arms.
—-
Be normal is what Sunghoon whispered to you two days ago before he allowed you to enter your dorm. You needed to act normal and that’s what you did. You made sure to engage with Yunjin and politely talk to any of her friends who hung out with the both of you during the two days after you watched Sunghoon murder Jaeho.
You haven’t seen Sunghoon in two days, nor have you contacted him. You’ve seen his younger friends around campus but you don’t have the confidence to approach them.
You’re having nightmares now. Jaeho is always present and you always wake up sweating. You haven’t gotten much sleep so you move through your school days zombie-like. The nightmare is always the same scenario; Jaeho’s chasing after you. He corners you in an alley and he beats you to death with the exact metal pole Sunghoon used on him.
News of Jaeho’s disappearance spread quickly across campus. His friends were the last to see him -- he had walked out of his apartment without telling them where he was going. At any mention of Jaeho, you freeze up. You can’t help it.
The doors to your lecture theater swing open and you’re drawn back to the present. The headmaster of your university, who you’ve only seen a few times, enters the lecture hall flanked by two policemen. A ripple of whispers runs through the lecture hall and your heart begins to beat quicker.
“Is L/N Y/N here today?”
All eyes turn to you and you shrink into your seat.
“Miss. Y/N would you please come with us? We have a few questions to ask,” one of the police officers addresses you. You pack up your things and slide out of your seat. Everyone is watching you as you walk over to the headmaster and the two policemen. You already know what this will be about.
There’s a brisk silent walk over to an empty lab. The headmaster exchanges a few words with the two policemen before he leaves you alone in their company. Your head is bowed as you sit at one of the tables, a microscope beside you and a petri dish in front of you.
“L/N Y/N?” One of the policemen asks.
You raise your head. “That’s me.”
“I’m Officer Kim and this is Officer Jeong. We have a few questions for you regarding the disappearance of Lee Jaeho.”
You nod your head.
“First, I’ll ask you an easy question. What was Jaeho to you? A friend?”
You open your mouth but struggle to answer. Was Jaeho a friend? You think back to the night at the party when he lay his hands on you without your consent. He lost the privilege to be called a friend the moment he climbed on top of you -- but, he was drunk and he had apologized to you numerous times. Doesn’t that restore the title of friendship?
“Yeah, we were friends,” you agree softly.
It’s silent as Officer Jeong notes some things down. “We managed to retrieve Jaeho’s phone,” Officer Kim says, pulling out a sealed bag containing Jaeho’s phone. Your heart skips a beat and your eyes widen. They found his phone?
“His phone?” You question.
Officer Kim nods his head. “We found it discarded on the roadside. Obviously, it’s been smashed, but we were able to retrieve the chip.” Officer Kim eyes you. “Do you know what I’m about to ask you?”
You don’t respond. Your hands curl into fists beneath the table and your nails dig into your palms.
“Why had Jaeho been texting you frequently up until his death? And why weren’t you responding?”
“That’s a private matter.”
Officer Kim smiles. “Private or not, we need to know.”
“I don’t think you need to know.” You don’t want to admit the truth. You don’t want to tell the police that Jaeho had assaulted you. Admitting it to Sunghoon was terrifying enough but to officers of the law?
“Can I be frank, Y/N?”
“Sure.”
“You’re a prime suspect in this investigation. I think you might want to tell us everything you know, otherwise you may end up being convicted for something you didn’t do.”
You lower your head and stare at the tabletop. Your fingernails dig deeper into your palm. “I wasn’t responding because he assaulted me.” You were scared to look at the police officers. You were scared to see what their expressions were. “He assaulted me and he was texting me apologies but I was ignoring him because I didn’t want to forgive him.”
It’s silent and you slowly look up. Officer Kim gives you a gentle smile. “Thank you for telling us, Y/N.”
Officer Jeong writes something down and you nod your head. “I have another question for you,” you watch Officer Kim place a sheet of paper on the table. On the paper, is a printed-out screenshot of an Instagram DM.
“Park Sunghoon sent Jaeho a threatening message on Instagram two days before his death. Park Sunghoon mentioned you by name, telling Jaeho to stay away from you or he will do something he won’t regret. Did you know about this?”
You stare at the piece of paper and read Sunghoon’s message to Jaeho. Something swirls around in your stomach and you shift uncomfortably in your chair. “No,” you respond. “I didn’t know about that.”
“Do you have any idea as to why Park Sunghoon would send that message?”
“He found me,” you say, swallowing thickly, “after Jaeho assaulted me. I told him what happened. I didn’t expect him to send Jaeho that message, he’s just a bit….” you think back to the night Jaeho was murdered. Sunghoon didn’t hesitate to pick up your call, he found you in a matter of minutes, and he promised to take care of everything for you. “He’s a bit overprotective.”
“Alright. Thank you.” Officer Kim slides the piece of paper away and clears his throat. “Earlier, we interrogated Park Sunghoon as he is the suspect at the top of our list. We were able to confiscate his phone for a few hours and we found that you had called him on the night of Jaeho’s disappearance at 10:10 for two minutes. Jaeho’s roommates told us Jaeho left the apartment at ten o’clock. Ten minutes before you made the call.”
“I did call him.”
“Why?”
You have two choices -- do you tell the truth, or do you lie? Do you blame Sunghoon for Jaeho’s murder, or do you allow the blame to fall on someone else? Do you throw Sunghoon to the pack of wolves, or do you live in misery and guilt for the rest of your life?
“I called him because he usually walks me home at night,” you tell Officer Kim. “I work at a convenience store and my shift ends at ten. Ever since Jaeho assaulted me I have been scared to walk alone in the dark. Sunghoon offered to walk me home after each of my shifts.”
“Okay,” Officer Kim nods his head. “Your shift ends at ten, but you called him at ten past.”
“I was waiting for him. I can’t walk home alone in the dark anymore, I get scared and sometimes have panic attacks. I don’t care how long I waited for Sunghoon, I was just happy he eventually showed up after I called him.”
“Okay,” Officer Kim smiles once more. “Thank you. One last question. How would you describe your relationship with Park Sunghoon?”
You’re not sure what that has to do with the investigation, but you answer anyway. “It’s…Complicated.”
“Alright. Thank you for your time, Y/N.”
“No problem. Can I go?”
“Yes, you can. We’ll be in touch.” Officer Kim waves you goodbye. You gladly grab your bag and leave the classroom, exhaling in relief as you shut the door behind you.
“They got you too, huh?”
You snap your head to the side. “Sunghoon!”
The silver-haired boy grins and beckons you over to him. “Hello, Y/N, long time no see?”
You scowl. “Fuck you, Sunghoon.”
Sunghoon grabs your hand. “Let’s go somewhere private, Y/N. There’s a lot we need to talk about.”
“Yeah,” you snort, “especially about how you’re a fucking psychopathic murderer.”
Sunghoon grins at you from over your shoulder. You feel unsettled but you allow Sunghoon to drag you across campus. You thought you would be more angry seeing him, but instead you feel oddly comforted -- and that terrifies you.
—-
Sunghoon takes you to his apartment. It’s flash like you expected, and Jake is lying on the couch in the living room when you enter. The television is blaring loudly as Jake watches some crime documentary on a channel you’ve never heard of.
“Do you want anything to eat? Or drink?” Sunghoon asks.
“No. I want to talk about what happened with Jaeho,” you hiss, glancing at Jake who was fully absorbed in the documentary.
“Don’t worry about Jake,” Sunghoon informs you, pulling out a can of coca cola from the fridge. “He’s also killed some people. He helped me with Jaeho, in fact.”
You stare at Sunghoon, and then at Jake. “What -- what the fuck.”
“I kill people, Jake kills people, Jay kills people -- we all kill people,” Sunghoon says bluntly.
You don’t know what to say. You stare at Sunghoon, your bag dropping to the floor and your heart pounds in your chest. “Why -- why are you telling me this? What if I go to the police?”
Sunghoon laughs, leaning against the kitchen counter. “You won’t tell anyone, Y/N.”
“But what if I do?”
Sunghoon smirks. “Then I’ll have to kill you. And I don’t want to kill you, Y/N, you’re too pretty to be killed.”
“You’re disgusting,” you spit.
“I’m disgusting and yet you’re standing in my apartment.”
You scowl at Sunghoon.
“How did the interrogation go? What did Kim ask you?”
“He asked me about Jaeho,” you reply, “I had to tell him about Jaeho assaulting me.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sunghoon says gently.
“No you’re not,” you retort. “You’re a psychopath, you don’t feel things.”
Sunghoon hums. “That’s true, Y/N, but I feel things for you.”
“I also lied,” you tell Sunghoon. “They asked me why I called you and I lied. Happy?”
Sunghoon beams. “Very.” He reaches out to pat your cheek. “You’re a very good girl, Y/N.”
“Whatever,” you mumble, hating the way your heart leaps at Sunghoon’s words.
“So,” Sunghoon gestures for you to take a seat at the dining table. “Do you have any questions?”
“How much time do you have?”
“For you? As much time as you want,” Sunghoon replies.
You scowl. “Shut up.”
Sunghoon laughs and sips his drink. “So?”
“Fine. How did you know where I was?”
“Easy. I’ve been following you home most nights, but I couldn’t that night because I was having a group meeting. Since I knew the path you take home, I was able to find you easily.”
You gape at Sunghoon. “You’ve been stalking me?”
Sunghoon shrugs. “Well, when you put it like that it doesn’t sound good.”
“Why have you been stalking me?”
“I was following you because I wanted to make sure you were safe,” Sunghoon replies smoothly.
“Oh. Okay.” You know you should be throwing a fit and telling Sunghoon that stalking you was wrong, but the way Sunghoon smoothly admitted to stalking you, made your chest feel warm. You don’t know how to describe it, but the idea of knowing Sunghoon was keeping you safe did something to you.
Sunghoon raises his eyebrows but he doesn’t say anything.
“Why did you kill Jaeho? Why are you a murderer? What the fuck is happening? Are you the one doing all the killings?”
“I killed Jaeho because he deserved it, Y/N,” Sunghoon says. “He shouldn’t be walking around without consequences for his actions.”
You eye Sunghoon as he talks, and a thrill runs up your spine. You don’t know how to describe your emotions. You don’t know how to describe the fire that’s burning in the pit of your stomach. The way Sunghoon is speaking -- the way his eyes look -- it’s all so thrilling. A pretty face with a twisted mind. Something within you keens to know more. The idea that Sunghoon is willing to kill for you does something.
“Killing Jaehyun was easy,” Sunghoon grins. It’s a maniacal grin. You shift in your seat and edge closer. “He was indebted to Heeseung. Couldn’t repay Heeseung, so we killed him.”
“Just like that?” You ask, your heart thumping wildly.
Sunghoon smiles at you. It’s softer and he tilts his head, “just like that, sweetheart.”
“You killed Taeyong, too?”
Sunghoon’s smile reveals his teeth. His tongue licks his teeth and he calls out to Jake, who pokes his head over the back of the couch, his honey-blonde hair falling over his face. “You killed Taeyong?”
Jake’s grin is ecstatic. His eyes light up and he nods his head like how a dog wags their tail. “Hell yeah, dude! You should’ve been there, it was so fucking satisfying. Seeing him slump to the ground?” Jake presses a hand to his cheek and sighs. “I’d do it all over again.” Jake falls away from the back of the couch, tuning back into the documentary and you turn back to Sunghoon.
“You’re all fucking crazy,” you exclaim, astonished and breathless.
“Fucking crazy and doing what everyone else is afraid to.” Sunghoon reaches out and plays with the strings of your hoodie. You edge closer to Sunghoon and stare at him, all the anger you felt for a few minutes had evaporated. You felt a weird sense of comfort and longing. It made you feel sick, but the longing overpowered it. Sunghoon killed Jaeho for you. He followed you home to keep you safe. No one’s done that before and any sane or rational person would fear for their life and beg the police to keep them safe but you -- you want to know how far Sunghoon will go.
“So. No other reason for killing Jaeho? And for stalking me? And giving me your number?”
Sunghoon hums, his index finger brushing your chin as he wraps the string around his finger. “Well, I guess there is another reason.”
“Which is?”
Sunghoon looks at you, his eyes dark and your gut drops to your feet. “I love you, Y/N,” his voice was deep and you feel goosebumps rise across your skin.
“You don’t know me, Sunghoon.”
“Do I have to know you to love you?”
You draw away from Sunghoon, the string unraveling from around his finger. “You’re crazy.”
Sunghoon chuckles and leans back in his chair, pushing a hand through his hair. “I know. That’s all you’ve said in the past five minutes. Do you have anything other than you’re crazy, to say?”
You stare at Sunghoon. You have many things to say, many sentences running through your mind. Where to begin? How do you say what you’re feeling? How do you admit to Sunghoon that you don’t mind him doing all this for you?
You grab Sunghoon by the collar of his shirt and kiss him. It doesn’t take long for Sunghoon to respond. His hands cup your face and he pulls you close, leaving you on the edge of your seat. You kiss him with everything in you. You give and Sunghoon takes. He stokes the fire burning within your stomach and you just want him to devour you. Sunghoon bites down on your bottom lip, his tongue slipping past your lips, and pleasure rushes through your bloodstream. You want more of Sunghoon. More more more more more --
Your phone vibrates against the table. You leave it, but it keeps on vibrating and Sunghoon is the one to part. You chase Sunghoon’s lips, but he keeps you away, his thumb resting against your bottom lip. “You should answer that, Y/N.”
“Okay,” you say breathlessly. You reach for your phone, not taking your eyes off Sunghoon. “Hello?”
“Y/N,” Yunjin cries, jolting you. Her sob rips loudly through the phone and Sunghoon gives you a questioning look. Behind you, Jake’s phone rings out and he groans, pausing the documentary to answer the phone. “Haechan’s dead, Y/N.”
—-
It’s been two long days since the death of Haechan. Yunjin was in the library when it happened, that’s why she called you sobbing. Haechan was only a couple of bookcases behind her when the murder occurred, and it really shook her up.
You had raced down to the campus library hot on Sunghoon and Jake’s heels. The phone call Jake had got at the same time as you was from Heeseung, who was, in fact, the one who killed Haechan. When you arrived at the crime scene, Heeseung was talking with Beomgyu and Jeongin, tightly huddled next to each other.
Yunjin threw herself into your arms and sobbed against your shoulder as you watched Sunghoon and Jake usher Heeseung, Beomgyu, and Jeonging away from the library.
You haven’t heard from Sunghoon since then and you feel like you’re going insane. Maybe kissing Sunghoon was the wrong idea, maybe you shouldn’t have kissed him, maybe if you told him how you were feeling, he wouldn’t be leaving you on delivered and never coming to class.
You stand in front of the full-length mirror in your dorm, brushing your hands against the black dress tightly hugging your features. You’re going out tonight with a goal in mind; Sunghoon. You need to see Sunghoon, you need to pick up where you left off two days ago.
“Yunjin,” you shake the girl lying in her bed asleep.
She groans and rolls over, rubbing her eyes. “Y/N?”
“Do you want to come to the party Minho’s throwing tonight? It’s some birthday bash for Changbin at some club. I’m hoping to see Sunghoon tonight, but I’m sure Sakura will be there, she’s friends with Minho, right?”
Yunjin stares at you for a very long time. “Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N?”
You stare at Yunjin, taken aback. “What?”
Yunjin scoffs and shakes her head. “I was literally almost murdered and all you care about is Sunghoon? You know, not once during the past two days did you check up on me, or offer a helping hand -- all you talked to me about was fucking Sunghoon. Some friend you are.” Yunjin rolls back over, her back facing you.
The silence in the room is loud. “I’ll bring you back some ice cream, Yunjin,” you say in a meek tone. She doesn’t respond, so you gently pad out of the dorm, shutting the door quietly behind you.
Walking out into the cool air, Yunjin’s words echo through your head. Had you really been that awful to her? When you think back to the past few days, all you can think about is Sunghoon, so maybe there was some truth to Yunjin’s words, maybe you were obsessed with Sunghoon at the moment, but surely you had offered comfort to Yunjin? She was your only friend, after all.
But, it’s whatever. If you somehow earn Sunghoon’s attention and buy ice cream tonight, then all the problems in your life will be solved.
The line in front of the club was already long. You didn’t mind the long wait because you kept yourself occupied with thoughts of Sunghoon. Sunghoon, Sunghoon, Sunghoon. He was all you could think about. Flashes of deep brown eyes, flashes of silver (almost white) hair, and a pink mouth curved into a kissable smile. He was addictive.
Entering the club, you scan the crowd. It was dark so it was hard to make out faces, but you catch sight of familiar faces -- Soobin, Yeonjun, Yena, Yuri, Chaewon, Seungmin. But no Sunghoon. Cursing, you approach the bar and order a drink, your fingertips hitting the bartop in a rhythmic manner as you continue searching the club over and over.
Minutes pass by and still no sight of Sunghoon. You knock back your third drink of the night, your tongue licking up the last remnants of your drink when the crowd parts and Yeonjun approaches you, his hair now a deep blue.
“Y/N,” Yeonjun smiles. “Nice seeing you here.”
“Yeonjun,” you smile back. “You too.”
“You look good tonight.”
“Really?” Looking over his shoulder, you finally see Sunghoon. He’s talking to Minjeong. Bitch.
“Really,” Yeonjun agrees. “Care for a dance? With me?”
You take Yeonjun’s waiting hand and he leads you to the dance floor, pushing his way into the middle where the music is the loudest. The loud club music mixes with the alcohol consuming your bloodstream and you lose all inhibitions. Yeonjun easily guides you through the rhythm of the music and his hands carefully wander across your body.
Yeonjun’s lips carefully ghost over the back of your neck. You melt into his arms and tilt your head to the side, his lips falling onto the side of your neck, artfully decorating them in little kisses and bites, his hands gripping your waist tighter as your dancing begins to turn sensual.
Your hand cups the back of Yeonjun’s neck and you turn your head, your heart in your throat. Yeonjun pulls you closer -- if that was even possible -- and his breath is hot on your lips and then you’re being pulled apart. You stumble into the dancers in front of you, who grumble in annoyance but you shrug them off and glance to see who pulled you and Yeonjun apart.
Sunghoon is towering over Yeonjun, his eyes dark and aura brooding. You notice his hands are curled into fists and before Yeonjun could say anything, Sunghoon is punching him. You watch Sunghoon punch Yeonjun a few times before you sink into the crowd surrounding the one-sided fight that was occurring -- you couldn’t bear to watch Sunghoon beat up Yeonjun, but you also know that Sunghoon will realize you’ve left and he’ll come for you.
You inhale deeply as you step out of the club. It’s 12 AM and the streets of Seoul are still alive. You walk aimlessly through the streets to get your thoughts and feelings under control. When you eventually confront Sunghoon, you want to be able to say what you want to say without stumbling over your words.
Sharply, you turn down an alleyway and walk until you reach the dead end, turning around, you place your hands on your hips and glare into the dark night. “Sunghoon, I know you’re there,” it’s silent for a few beats. “You fucking piece of shit,” you tag on belatedly.
Still nothing.
“What gives you the right to punch Yeonjun after ignoring me for two days? You don’t own me, Sunghoon. I can dance with whoever I want, and kiss whoever I want.”
Finally, you see Sunghoon’s figure appear at the end of the alley. He approaches you like how a lion stalks their prey, except you don't cower away. Sunghoon’s face is stoic, and his eyes are dark. His right hand is bloody but you don’t care, you only care about what Sunghoon will say to you.
“You can’t kiss Yeonjun,” Sunghoon answers gruffly.
“Why not?” You challenge.
Sunghoon grabs your face and kisses you in response. It’s a rough kiss, one which surprises you. You stumble into the cool brick wall behind you as Sunghoon cages you. Sunghoon’s kiss is demanding and it’s leaving you breathless as you attempt to keep up with his passion. His hands wander across your body -- over your butt and your breasts, his hands going where you want them to go. You whimper as Sunghoon bites harshly on your bottom lip, drawing blood that tastes metallic but you don’t care. You hook one leg around Sunghoon’s waist and push him closer to your body. You crave Sunghoon’s warmth.
Sunghoon draws away, and once again you’re left chasing his lips. “When you come to a club dressed like a slut, Y/N,” Sunghoon says, his voice rumbling deep in his chest, “guys will think they’re able to kiss what’s mine.”
“I’m not yours Sunghoon,” you whisper, letting Sunghoon’s thumb brush over your lip to wipe away the blood dripping down your chin. “We kissed once.”
“I also stalked you. And Killed Jaeho for you,” Sunghoon reminds, his tone firm.
“I didn’t ask you to do that,” you retort, “you just did it.”
Sunghoon laughs and it chills you to the bone. “But you liked me doing that. You liked the idea of me stalking you, and you liked watching me kill Jaeho.”
You can’t deny it. Sunghoon kisses you again, but it’s gentle. His thumbs brush your cheeks in a soothing rhythm. Sunghoon moves his lips across your face -- he kisses your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, and then he dips down to kiss your throat. Raising his face to look at you, his eyes are soft. “You’re mine, Y/N,” his voice is also softer like he’s trying to lull you into his warm embrace but he doesn’t need to try. You’re already aching for his warm embrace.
“Ask me,” you whisper, your voice trembling, “ask me to be yours. Ask me to be your girlfriend. Ask me to love you.”
Sunghoon kisses you again. He’s addicting.
“Be mine. Be my girlfriend, Y/N.”
You hum, smiling softly. “Will you take me out on dates?”
“If you want to, then I will.”
You pull Sunghoon in for a kiss. “Take me on dates and I’ll love you. It’s simple, Sunghoon.”
Sunghoon traces your lips with a gentle finger. “Being mine has rules, Y/N,” he says in a low voice. “And if you break them, I’ll have to break you.”
Your pulse is loud in your ears. Anticipation hangs in the air. You want Sunghoon -- all of him. “I’ll follow them,” you promise Sunghoon.
“You don’t even know what they are, Y/N,” Sunghoon chuckles.
“I don’t have to know the rules to know I love you.”
Sunghoon kisses you desperately, your back digging painfully into the wall behind you, but you ignore the pain because Sunghoon’s warmth is overwhelming. “Rule number one,” Sunghoon pants out, his lips moving against yours. “You’re mine. Y/N.”
—-
Sunghoon’s presence has been overwhelming but it’s the good kind. All week you were around Sunghoon. Everywhere you went, Sunghoon was there. His rules were easy to follow -- when you see Sunghoon, you go to him, no matter if you’re with your friends. You can’t talk to any other men aside from Sunghoon and his friends. If you want to go out, you have to ask Sunghoon for permission, because Sunghoon has to know where you are, and when you’re dressing up to go out to a club, Sunghoon has to approve your outfit, and above all, you listen to Sunghoon. You listen to what he says and do what he asks, no questions asked.
If you were the sane, logical girl from last year, you would be searching for a way out of Sunghoon’s obsessive grip but now -- now you’re a girl who craves this kind of attention, who finds a thrill in knowing that you have all of Sunghoon’s attention for yourself. You find a thrill in knowing Sunghoon would do anything for you, and it should disgust you, but it doesn’t.
Sunghoon’s car rumbles gently beneath you. His hand grips your thigh possessively, the other lazily holding onto the steering wheel as he drives through Seoul. He was taking you on a date today, to a park to have a picnic.
“I like your skirt,” Sunghoon says, grinning as he pinches the hem of it.
You lay your hand over Sunghoon’s. “I wonder who picked it out.”
Sunghoon sneaks a look at you, his eyes dancing in amusement. “Perhaps you should give the person who picked it out a kiss.”
Giggling, you reach across the gap between you and Sunghoon and peck his cheek. “Thank you,” you say gently against his ear. Sunghoon’s hand squeezes your thigh tightly. You giggle again and slump against the seat, staring out the window again.
It’s a nice day. The sun is shining and there’s a gentle breeze in the air that keeps you feeling comfortable. Sunghoon takes your hand and leads you through the park to a secluded area. He tells you to stand there and look pretty as he lays out the picnic blanket and the basket full of food he had picked out for the both of you.
Sunghoon helps you out of your shoes, and then he helps you get comfortable on the blanket. He keeps you tucked between his legs and you relax against his chest, his arms circling your waist and keeping you warm. The breeze tickles your shoulder and you giggle softly, and then you feel Sunghoon drop a kiss on that same shoulder.
“Are you feeling hungry, Y/N?”
“A bit. What did you pack?”
Sunghoon shifts, keeping one arm circled around your waist while he reaches to pull the basket closer to him. “I brought some fruit,” Sunghoon pulls out a mandarin. “I’ll peel it for you,” Sunghoon’s mouth brushes your ear and you shiver.
You watch as Sunghoon’s hands deftly peel the mandarin for you. “Open your mouth,” Sunghoon says. He feeds you each mandarin piece and your heart swells. Sunghoon was a dream. He was your dream. He was your ideal man -- Sunghoon would kill for you, maybe even die for you. But he was also sweet, and loving, and caring.
“Tell me more about you,” Sunghoon says, his chin resting on your shoulder as you relax further into his embrace. “What’s your favorite color?” His fingers trace over your bare thigh. You ignore how it tickles.
“Pink. I like soft pink. Not bright pink, but a mellow, warm pink.”
“I hate pink,” Sunghoon says, sounding amused.
“I’ll make you love it.”
Sunghoon hums and kisses your shoulder. “I bet you will.”
“What about you?” You turn your head slightly to catch the side of Sunghoon’s face. “What’s your color?”
Sunghoon pulls away from your shoulder to look at you. He smiles. “I liked green, but these days I think I like the color of your eyes more.”
You blush and duck your head, covering your face with your hands. “Shut up, Sunghoon.”
He laughs heartily, his chest moving against your back. He kisses the top of your head. “Any siblings?”
You shake your head. “I’m an only child. What about you?”
“I have a younger sister,” Sunghoons says, though the tone of his voice wishes he didn’t.
Chaewon’s words from the party echo through your head. “Is it true you made your sister walk home with a broken ankle?”
Sunghoon scoffs. “She deserved it.” He doesn’t elaborate and you sit there in silence, letting his words simmer in the air. That should’ve been a sign for you to leave Sunghoon behind, go to the police and beg for a restraining order, or attempt to flee the country. But, you choose to sit between Sunghoon’s legs and intertwine your fingers with Sunghoon’s.
“And your parents? Are you close with them?” You ask Sunghoon.
“I cut them off as soon as I got to college,” Sunghoon admits bluntly. “What about you?” He brushes some stray strands of hair behind your ear.
“I’m close with them,” you murmur, playing with Sunghoon’s fingers. “They will probably want to meet you.”
“I’d love to meet them, then,” Sunghoon says, “after all, they created you.”
Your giggle floats through the air and Sunghoon manhandles you around to face him so he can kiss you intensely. You’re reeling from the sudden kiss, but soon you melt into the kiss, enjoying the feeling of Sunghoon warmly pressed against you.
Pulling away, you push your cheek against Sunghoon’s chest to listen to his heartbeat. Your legs are curled up as Sunghoon holds you close, playing with the ends of your hair. “Sunghoon?” You ask gently and he hums in response. “How did you -- why did you --” Sunghoon cuts you off to kiss you again. You let him kiss you for a while.
“That’s a story for another day, Y/N,” Sunghoon murmurs, his forehead resting against yours. “Let’s not ruin the mood of our date, yeah?”
You can only agree.
—-
You’re walking into a familiar club a couple of days later with Yunjin. Your eyes glance down at your phone once again, rereading Sunghoon’s texts. First, he approved of your outfit and complimented you so passionately you still blush as you read his message, and second, Sunghoon had told you he’d be arriving soon. Your stomach was on fire at just the thought of seeing Sunghoon again tonight, at a party.
Beside you, Yunjin looks at you before abandoning you in favor to seek out her friends. You let Yunjin go. She’s been giving you the cold shoulder ever since you never returned back to the dorm without the ice cream you promised her. You’ve also been blowing her off lately in favor to hang out with Sunghoon, but you could care less about Yunjin’s cold shoulder. You have Sunghoon to crawl back to at the end of the day, anyway.
You head for the bar and order a drink. You look out at the club, eyes trained on the entrance as you wait for Sunghoon. Minutes pass and the club continues to fill up. You keep checking your phone for a message from Sunghoon, but you still receive no text from him.
People pile up at the bar around you, and behind you, you hear a familiar, grating feminine voice. Shooting a side glance over your shoulder, you catch a glimpse of curly black hair and smoky eyeshadow. Minjeong sat behind you with her posse, and her voice was loud enough for you to hear.
“Did you hear the rumor about Sunghoon?” One of Minjeong’s friends asks her.
“Which one? The one about him murdering Jaehyun, or the one about him being a freak?” Minjeong asks in her annoying snarky tone. You’ve never liked Minjeong, in fact, you’ve always had a rivalry with her ever since high school. You two were the top students in your high school and when Senior year came around, both of you were vying for valedictorian. In the end, you snatched the spot from her, and from then, Minjeong’s been obsessed with stealing everything from you -- even your ex-boyfriend.
“No, the one about his relationship with Y/N,” her friend clarifies. “People are saying he’s blackmailing her into being his girlfriend.”
Minjeong laughs loudly at that. “If anything, Y/N’s the one doing the blackmailing. She’s a pathetic freak. Though, Sunghoon’s more of a freak than her so it’s a perfect match!”
Her friends titter obnoxiously and you order another drink from the bar. Minjeong was beginning to get on your nerves for the thousandth time, except this time, you might end up doing something about it rather than being the one to take the high road.
“What did you mean when you called Sunghoon a freak?” Another one of Minjeong’s friends asks, her tone curious and it makes your blood boil. What right do Minjeong and her friends have talking about Sunghoon like that?
Minjeong snickers. “Didn’t you hear? Apparently, in Freshmen year, he was caught entering a girl’s dorm and stealing all her underwear. When the campus security went through his room, they found all sorts of panties and porn magazines. He’s a peeping tom, Jimin, a freak. I guess he and Y/N deserve each other.”
Slamming the glass holding your drink onto the bar, you turn in your chair and glare at Minjeong. All her friends freeze up at the sight of you, but Minjeong only smiles slyly. “If I were you, I would watch your fucking mouth, Minjeong,” you warn.
“All bark no bite,” Minjeong taunts.
All bark no bite. Jaeho said that before Sunghoon murdered him. Your blood boils. You hate that saying.
“Sunghoon’s a fucking freak and you know it, Y/N.”
Grabbing your drink, you pour the remainder of the alcohol over Minjeong’s head. She shrieks and her friends flinch away. “Say that again.” You grab Minjeong by the shirt. “Say it, Minjeong.”
Minjeong opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. Rolling your eyes, you shove Minjeong off the barstool and she goes crashing to the ground. All her friends crowd around her, some shoot you dirty looks but you ignore them. Minjeong had it coming.
“Y/N.”
Turning around, you see Yeonjun standing there with a swollen nose and a black eye. Your eyes widen and you glance around the room searching for Sunghoon. Where was Sunghoon?
“Yeonjun, hi.”
“Y/N, listen to me,” Yeonjun grabs your hand. You flinch and try to pull away, but Yeonjun’s grip only tightens. “You need to get away from Sunghoon.”
“Yeonjun, what the fuck --”
“Y/N,” Yeonjun’s begging at this point. “You don’t deserve someone like him. He’s a psychopath, Y/N, you’re not safe with him.”
You scoff and finally tug your hand out of Yeonjun’s. “Thank you for the warning, Yeonjun, but I think I can make those kinds of decisions on my own.”
“Y/N, you aren’t listening. Sunghoon’s a fucking murderer--”
“Sunghoon!” You beam as you see the silver-haired male appear behind Yeonjun.
Yeonjun tenses up and turns slightly to see Sunghoon towering over him. Sunghoon doesn’t say anything as he brushes past Yeonjun and grips your wrist tightly, pulling you through the crowd and out of the club. You stumble over your feet in an attempt to catch up with Sunghoon’s fast pace and long legs.
“Sunghoon!” You call but he ignores you. Once he’s free from the club, he veers to the right sharply and shoves you up against the side of the club. You’re hidden away from the long line of people waiting to enter the club, the shadows protecting you from anyone who peers down this small alley in between two clubs.
“Why the fuck were you talking to Yeonjun, Y/N?” Sunghoon glares at you, his eyes fiery.
Your heart skips a beat and you reach for Sunghoon’s hand. “Sunghoon, I didn’t want to talk to him.”
“Don’t fucking lie, Y/N. I thought you understood my rules clearly. I specifically told you to not talk to Yeonjun.” Sunghoon was seething. You’ve never seen him this angry.
“Sunghoon,” you try to placate him. “He talked to me. I never want to disobey you, Sunghoon, you have to believe me. I don’t want to talk to Yeonjun but he came up to me and started a conversation with me.”
“Are you telling the truth, Y/N?”
You nod your head. “Of course, Sunghoon. You’re the only one I want.”
“Good girl,” Sunghoon breaks into a smile and cups your face with his hand, planting a kiss on your lips. “Head back into the club, I have something to take care of.”
“Okay,” you murmur, “be safe?”
“I always am,” Sunghoon kisses you again. “You look good tonight. It’s a shame I can’t be with you longer.”
“I’ll wear this dress for you another night, I promise,” you smile at Sunghoon, squeezing his hand.
“Alright. Text me when you’re leaving the club. And text me when you get home.”
“Of course.”
—-
Walking through campus, something rustles underfoot. Glancing down, you see Yeonjun’s missing poster beneath your foot. Choi Yeonjun has been missing for the past three days. You screw up the missing poster and dump it in the nearest trash can. They won’t ever find Yeonjun’s body, Jay made sure to dispose of it carefully.
Sunghoon had called you the next morning after Yeonjun attempted to ward you away from Sunghoon. It didn’t work, of course, because you loved Sunghoon and you wanted to be with him, psychopath or not. You and Sunghoon met up at a cafe on campus, he bought your breakfast for you and he explained why he had to leave you alone in the club.
Yeonjun’s death was all his fault. He had it coming.
After Sunghoon explained Yeonjun’s murder to you, you kissed him and said thank you. You knew you could always count on Sunghoon to protect you and keep you save from the people trying to interfere with your relationship.
Days passed after Sunghoon admitted to being the cause of Yeonjun’s disappearance. The hunt for Yeonjun is growing hopeless as each day passes and no one steps forward with any information regarding Yeonjun’s disappearance.
You’re working at the convenience store again. It’s a boring night but thankfully you only have an hour left. You flick through a magazine that was supposed to be on display in front of the counter but since there were no customers, you were passing time by snickering at the tabloid.
The door opens and the bell above it rings. Glancing up, you see Minjeong approaching you. You push the magazine to the side and wait for Minjeong to speak as she stands at the counter. Her eyes survey the gum sitting nearby, and she grabs a strawberry flavored packet.
“You should keep a leash on your boytoy, Y/N,” Minjeon says nonchalantly, flicking through the same magazine you were previously reading.
“I don’t need to listen to this shit from you.”
Minjeong hums. “I think you do. I saw him, a couple of nights back. The night you ruined my green dress at the club, remember?”
You smile. “I remember it fondly, Minjeong.”
“I think it was around three am? I saw your boyfriend fighting with Yeonjun. It didn’t look like a friendly fight, Sunghoon was kind of…scary,” Minjeong shrugs and your heart begins to slow down. “Eventually, Yeonjun got into Sunghoon’s car.” Minjeong places the magazine back on the rack and looks at you. “Kinda crazy, huh? That I saw Yeonjun hours before he was reported missing, and he was with your boyfriend.”
“Your total is three dollars.”
“Three dollars for a packet of gum?” Minjeong frowns.
You smile but it’s tight, unfriendly. “Capitalism, Minjeong.”
Minjeong hands you a five dollar note. “You know what’s even funnier?”
“What?”
“I saw Sunghoon later. I think it was 5 AM? I am a party girl, after all, and he was climbing out of his car alone.”
You give Minjeong back her change. “Have a good night, Minjeong.”
Minjeong tuts. “I’m not finished, Y/N. He was climbing out of the car covered in blood, Y/N. You know what that means, right? Your psychotic boyfriend murdered Yeonjun.”
You can hear the clock in the staff room ticking as you and Minjeong stand in silence. You don’t know what to do. You’re in shock. You can’t believe Sunghoon had been so irresponsible. You can’t let Sunghoon go to prison.
“Why haven’t you told the police yet?” You ask Minjeong.
Minjeong shrugs, tearing the plastic wrapping off the gum packeting. “I didn’t believe what I saw at first. And then when I did, I wanted to talk to you before I went to the police.”
“Why would you want to talk to me?”
“Because the police might question you, Y/N,” Minjeong pulls out some gum and offers the packet to you. You shake your head. “And I don’t know what your relationship with Sunghoon is like, but I know how hard it is to be in an abusive relationship and get questioned by the police. They’re ruthless.”
Finally, an out to this situation appears. You soften your eyes and fidget with your fingers, glancing away from Minjeong. “Oh.” You stare really hard at a packet of chips, not bothering to blink as your eyes begin to water.
“Y/N?” Minjeong asks softly.
“Minjeong. Can we -- can we not talk about this here? Can we meet somewhere privately?”
Minjeong nods her head. “Of course, Y/N.”
“And can you not tell anyone about us meeting up? I -- I don’t want Sunghoon to know and I don’t want you getting in trouble in case he finds out you know. .”
Minjeong nods eagerly. “Of course, Y/N. Where do you want to meet?”
“There’s an alleyway not far down. It’s across from the Chinese takeaway place. My shift ends at ten, so it’ll take me a few minutes to get there.”
Minjeong smiles gently. “I’ll wait for you, Y/N. Thank you for trusting me with whatever you’re about to tell me.”
You smile at Minjeong. “Of course.”
Minjeong bids you goodbye and when she’s out of sight, you dry your eyes and reach for your phone, firing a quick text to Sunghoon. He answers back immediately and you grin, placing your phone down and reaching for the magazine you shoved aside.
The remainder of your shift passes by slowly. Your nerves get the better of you and by the time Seungmin arrives to take over, you’re racing out of the store. Your pulse is loud in your ears as you approach the alleyway where you told Minjeong to meet you.
You see her standing down the alleyway, a little way from the enterance. The glare of her phone lights up her face. Clearly distracted, you duck down and pick a broken brick up from the ground, hiding it behind your back as you walk over to Minjeong.
“Y/N,” Minjeong smiles and turns off her phone, pocketing it. “How are you?”
“I could be better,” you respond, keeping up your innocent, scared appearance. “I just didn’t know what to do or who to tell,” you start, biting your lower lip nervously.
“It’s okay,” Minjeong reaches out to rub your arm. “You can tell me.”
“Sunghoon he…he told me he murdered Yeonjun,” you confess to Minjeong.
Her eyes widen. “Oh, Y/N.”
“I was terrified at first,” you continue, “but then after a while, I thanked Sunghoon for doing that.”
“What?” Minjeong frowns, confused. “You thanked Sunghoon for…murdering Yeonjun?”
You shrug. “Yeonjun had it coming.”
“Y/N, what the fuck --”
“Sorry, Minjeong, but you weren’t supposed to see Sunghoon with Yeonjun,” you give her a smile before you swing your hand holding the brick through the air and smack Minjeong on the side of her head with it. Minjeong sprawls to the ground, her temple bleeding.
You drop the brick and pull out your phone, calmly dialing Sunghoon’s number as you stare at Minjeong’s unconscious body. “I knocked out Minjeong,” you tell Sunghoon, “she saw you with Yeonjun the night you killed him.”
Sunghoon doesn’t say anything. He hangs up and in seconds he’s by your side, staring down at Minjeong’s body. “Do you want to finish what you started, Y/N?” Sunghoon asks, picking up the brick, “or would you like me to finish?”
“You can finish. Do you want me to call Jake?”
“Yeah, tell him to get his ass down here with Jay and Heeseung and bring my car. He’ll know what to do.” Sunghoon hands you his phone and you turn away, not wanting to see Sunghoon bash Minjeong’s head with the brick.
Jake sounded eager as you talked to him on the phone. Fifteen minutes later, Jake appears with Jay and they jog down the alley. Sunghoon’s car is parked in front of the alley, blocking anyone from looking down the alley.
“Where’s the body?” Jay asks.
“Heeseung couldn’t make it,” Jake says as he, Sunghoon, and Jay crowd around Minjeong’s dead body. “He had to handle something with Beomgyu and Jeongin. Probably a drug deal gone wrong.”
“Of-fucking-course,” mutters Sunghoon. “Fucking stoners.” He glances over his shoulder. “Go wait in the car, Y/N. Jungwon will keep you company, and we’ll talk about this later, okay?”
You nod your head and walk down the alley, opening the car door and sliding into the backseat. Jungwon sits in the driver’s seat, his fingers tapping the steering wheel as he glances out the tinted windows. “Hey, Jungwon,” you place your bag on the car floor and pull out your phone to play Candy Crush to pass the time.
“Hey. Killed Minjeong, huh?”
“Knocked her unconcious. Sunghoon killed her for me. She knew too much about Yeonjun’s disappearance. Came to me while I was working and confessed everything to me.”
Jungwon snorts. “Her first mistake. Why didn’t she go to the police first?”
“I think she was concerned for me,” you respond absentmindedly. “Thought I was in an abusive relationship with Sunghoon.” That gets a kick out of Jungwon and he laughs heartily.
“Little does she know,” Jungwon sighs after getting his laughter under control, “you and Sunghoon are a perfect match for each other.”
—-
Sliding into the passenger seat beside Sunghoon, he greets you with a kiss. It was the first day of spring break and Sunghoon was driving the both of you down to visit your parents. They were over the moon when you told them you had a boyfriend and told you they wanted to meet him over the break.
“They’ll love you,” you reassure Sunghoon as he pulls away from the curb.”You’ll definitely win them over.”
Sunghoon grins, his dimple peeking. “Everyone loves me, Y/N.”
“I love you more though,” you respond, sulking.
Sunghoon takes your hand and kisses the top of it. “I know you do, Y/N.”
“Oh!” You perk up, “Yunjin wont be rooming with me after the break. I’ll have the dorm to myself for the rest of the semester and then I’ll have to move out. Should we move in together during the summer break, Sunghoon?”
Earlier, before Sunghoon came to pick you up, Yunjin broke the news to you. You were expecting this, now that you think about it. Ever since you began dating Sunghoon, you and Yunjin grew apart. She didn’t approve of you dating Sunghoon, and you didn’t like her disapproval. What was so wrong about you dating Sunghoon? Yunjin often complained whenever you blew her off, but as it became more frequent she began to leave you alone in the dorm like at the beginning of the year when the both of you weren’t as close.
You didn’t care than Yunjin held a grudge against you for blowing her off and dating Sunghoon because, at the end of the day, you always had Sunghoon and you would chose Sunghoon over any of your friends any day.
“I like that idea. Should we move in together?”
You nod your head. “It would be so much fun living together, Sunghoon. Late nights, I can cook you dinner, and we can watch as many movies as we want! Maybe we could get a pet too!”
“A cat?” Sunghoon asks.
“Anything you want, Sunghoon,” you respond warmly. Sunghoon steals a kiss from you at the red light and you giggle, smiling bashfully and leaning forward to turn up the radio, the playlist Sunghoon made for the two of you playing.
The drive to your childhood home was only a couple of hours. Usually, the drive was boring since you had no one else to join you, but now that you had Sunghoon with you on the drive, he made it more fun. Cracking jokes and playing silly games with you, he left you breathless.
“Home sweet home,” you murmur as Sunghoon pulls up the driveway.
Sunghoon parks the car and pulls the keys out of the ignition. His hand cups your chin and guides your lips to his. He kisses you in his car, outside your house. “Cute house,” Sunghoon says after leaving you breathless. “I can imagine you growing up here.”
You blush. The front door of your house opens and your mother and father step onto the porch, waving happily when they see you. “Come on,” you reach out to pinch Sunghoon’s cheek, “let’s meet the parents!”
Climbing out of the car, you rush up the porch to hug your parents. “I missed you so much, darling,” you mother says, petting your hair.
“I missed you more, mom,” you respond, pulling her in for another hug.
“My baby girl,” your father says fondly, rubbing your cheek with the back of his hand. “How have you been?”
You beam and hug your father tightly. “I’ve been well. University has been so much fun. I miss your homecooked food, though.”
Your mother and father chuckle. “We’re glad you’re back home, darling. This break will be so much fun.”
Glancing over your shoulder, you watch Sunghoon approach you and your parents. Your smile broadens and you tuck yourself into Sunghoon’s side, “this is my boyfriend, Park Sunghoon.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Sunghoon says, shaking your father’s hand.
“You too, son,” your father says, “anyone who can make my daughter this happy is okay in my book.”
Sunghoon smiles, peeking down at you. “Seeing her happy makes me happy.”
Your father sends you a wink and you blush. Sunghoon takes your mother’s hand and kisses the back of her hand. “It’s a delight to meet you, Mrs. L/N, you created a wonderful daughter.”
Your mother’s laughter is light as it floats through the air. “Come on in, I’ll show you to your room and then you can unpack the car.”
Reaching for Sunghoon’s hand, you squeeze it gently as you step into your childhood home. Sunghoon squeeze your hand back, and when your parents weren’t looking, he sneaks a kiss on your temple. The love in your heart for Sunghoon swells tenfold.
After moving everything from Sunghoon’s car and into the house, your father takes Sunghoon away to tinker in the garage while you sit in the kitchen, watching your mother prepare dinner. “Remind me long you’ve been dating Sunghoon, sweetheart?” Your mother asks.
“Three weeks,” you respond.
“Oh. I didn’t know this was a new relationship. The way you spoke on the phone made it sound like you’ve been with him for a while.”
You shrug, peeling the shell of a pistachio. “We’ve known each other for a long time. Three weeks feels like three months with Sunghoon. I love him. And didn’t you tell me if you love someone, that’s more than enough?”
Your mother sighs, kneading out the dough. “I guess so. Just, be careful, Y/N, okay? I don’t want you to rush into a relationship and make a mistake that could cost your life.”
You giggle. “You don’t need to worry about me, mom, Sunghoon is the one for me.”
Your mother smiles at you from over her shoulder. “I’ll take your word for it.”
Your father enters the kitchen and kisses your mother’s cheek as he reaches for the fridge. “Sunghoon’s up in your room, Y/N, if you want to see him. We’ll call you down when dinner’s ready,” you father says. “I need some alone time with your mother.”
You dash out of the kitchen and up the stairs to your childhood room. You burst into the room and leap onto your bed, crushing Sunghoon. He groans and pushes you off him as you giggle, flopping back on the bed beside him. “How are you, Sunghoon?”
“I’m having fun. Your father is nice to talk to,” Sunghoon responds. “It’s making me miss my parents.”
You coo reach out to caress Sunghoon’s cheek. You throw your leg over Sunghoon’s waist and cuddle up to him, your hand falling down to rest on his chest. You close your eyes and begin to doze off, feeling relaxed and comfortable in Sunghoon’s embrace, but your boyfriend shakes you awake.
“Y/N,” he says softly. “I have something for you.” He gently pulls you upright and turns to shift through his overnight bag. It doesn’t take long for him to procure a small jewelry box and you gasp softly as Sunghoon turns to you with a big grin on his face.
“I saw this at the jewelry store yesterday. Jake was shopping for his mom since her birthday is coming up. I saw this and thought of you.” He opens the box and you gasp, staring at the thin gold ring sitting between the cushions.
Sunghoon takes it out and you hold out your hand. “It’s a promise ring,” Sunghoon tells you softly. “You’re my forever, Y/N.”
“Oh, Sunghoon,” you admire the ring. It’s a small gold ring with a flower sitting in the middle. You don’t recognize the flower so you look at Sunghoon in question.
“It’s your birth flower, Y/N,” Sunghoon explains, pinching your chin playfully.
“Oh. I didn’t even know such a thing as birth flowers existed.”
Sunghoon laughs loudly and leans forward to kiss you. “Don’t worry, baby, I know everything about you.”
You laugh against his lips and draw him back in for a kiss. You spend the rest of your time with Sunghoon kissing him and admiring the ring in the golden sunlight until your father calls you both downstairs.
Dinner was enjoyable, though you could tell your parents felt a bit unsettled as you show them the promise ring Sunghoon got you, and how you both explained your plans to move in with each other next year. The unsettling feelings carries into the night when Sunghoon was up taking a shower and you were helping your parents clean up dinner.
“Y/N, honey,” your father starts softly. “Don’t you think you’re rushing this relationship?”
You glance up from where you were washing the dishes. “What? No? I love Sunghoon, and I want to be with him forever.”
Your parents share a look. “Y/N,” your mother says, “are you sure?”
“Why are you being like this?” You ask your parents, placing down the brush you were using to wash the dishes. “Shouldn’t you be excited for me? I finally have a boyfriend who loves me and cares for me.”
Your father nods. “We are, but it just feels like you’re going too fast. You’ve only been dating for three weeks, Y/N.”
“But I love him,” you insist. “I love Sunghoon. And you’ve always told me that when I love someone, I shouldn’t let them go.”
Your mother sighs heavily. “Alright. If you believe that you and Sunghoon will last, then we’ll back off.”
“But don’t say that we didn’t warn you,” your father adds.
You finish washing the dishes in silence. You don’t bid your parents goodnight as you walk up to your room, your mood sour. Sunghoon was already in bed, tucked beneath the covers as he scrolled through his phone, probably replying to the group chat he has with his friends.
“Hey,” you mutter, pulling out your pajamas.
“Hey,” Sunghoon responds, placing down his phone. “Are you okay, Y/N?”
“No,” you respond tersely, changing out of your clothes and into your pajamas in front of Sunghoon. “My parents were being annoying.”
“Oh?”
“I’ll tell you about it after I finish washing up.” You grab your toothbrush and face wash and dash over to the bathroom next to your room, not wanting to bump into your parents. After finishing washing up, you crawl into bed with Sungoon and curl up next to him.
“What’s on your mind, Y/N?” Sunghoon brushes a hand through your hair.
“My parents think we’re moving too fast,” you grumble. “They’re trying to tell me what to do in our relationship. It’s annoying.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Sunghoon says gently. “Would you like me to talk to them?”
You shake your head. “No, it’s okay, Sunghoon. Let’s just sleep. We’ll have them convinced that we aren’t rushing this relationship by the end of the week.”
Sunghoon kisses your forehead and helps you lie down before pulling you close against his chest. “Goodnight, Y/N.”
“Goodnight, Sunghoon.”
You didn’t get much sleep. You were standing in front of the milk at the nearby supermarket zoning out. After your mother asked you to get some milk, you began your slow, sleepy walk down to the nearest supermarket.
Sunghoon has been silent all morning and you hope what you told him last night didn’t ruin his mood for the rest of the trip. Finally snapping out of your daze, you grab the milk your mother asked for, approached the register and paid.
You took your time walking home, enjoying the fresh morning air. You begin to plan how to prove to your parents that you and Sunghoon’s relationship wouldn’t crash and burn in a few years. So far, the plan you thought of wasn’t exactly going to prove to your parents that you and Sunghoon were a forever couple, but as your unlock the front door, you realize that you don’t need your parents’ approval. It’s your life. Not theirs.
Putting the milk away, you realize how quiet the house is and a chill creeps up your spine. “Mom?” You call out, “dad?” There’s no response. “Sunghoon?” You search the first floor, but your parents were nowhere to be found. Climbing the stairs, you stay alert.
Sunghoon wasn’t in your room, and your parents weren’t in theirs either. You notice the bathroom door was shut and your heart begins to race. You hope that maybe your mother and father left to go on their morning walk and Sunghoon was taking a shower.
Pushing open the door to the bathroom you smell the metallic smell of blood before you see the scene in front of you. Your parents lay lifeless on the bathroom floor, their abdomen split open with the amount of stab wounds issued to their upper body. Blood is spilled across the floor, all over the cabinet and the white walls.
Sunghoon was on his knees, hovering over your father as he slashes at his chest a few more times. “Sunghoon,” you whimper, your knees almost giving out.
The knife he was holding drops to the floor. He looks up at you and you gasp once again. Blood covers his face, it drips down his cheeks and his chin. You watch as Sunghoon reaches up to wipe the blood of his face, but his hand was also bloody. He drags his bloody hand across his mouth, getting rid of no blood. It was futile for him to wipe his bloody hand across his mouth. His hand drops back down into the pool of blood surrounding Sunghoon and your knees finally give out.
You collapse, your hands splashing the blood pooling at the entrance of the bathroom. “Sunghoon,” you whisper. You can’t take your eyes off the lifeless bodies of your mom and dad. “What did you do?”
Sunghoon beckons you over. Your body automatically moves to Sunghoon, blood seeping into the fabric of your jeans. Sunghoon’s bloody hands come up to cup your face. The blood is cool against your face, but you don’t flinch away from Sunghoon.
He leans down and kisses you. All you can taste is the blood of your parents but you don’t push Sunghoon away. You sink into the embrace of his kiss as you’re overcome with emotion you can’t describe.
“I did this for you,” Sunghoon whispers, his bloody forehead touching yours.
“For me?” You whisper back.
“Everything I do is for you, Y/N,” Sunghoon kisses you again. You grip his bloody t-shirt tightly. You don’t care about your dead parents. A small part of your brain is happy they’re dead. Now, you won’t be subjected to their judgemental stares for the rest of spring break. “If I can’t have you, no one can, Y/N. I promise you that.”
“I love you, Sunghoon,” you whisper, finally embracing Sunghoon and all of his craziness. Sunghoon would kill for you. He’s proven himself over and over again. “You’ll only ever have me.”
“I know,” Sunghoon whispers back, his hand touching your hair.
“You’d do anything for me, Sunghoon?” You ask.
“Anything,” Sunghoon answers, his lips brushing over yours.
“Good,” you smile.
author’s note, hey…..that was. a lot. idk what overcame me when i wrote this tbh. i was possessed by the ghost of sunghoon in the concept film😊 anyway. i hope you enjoyed this fic! idk if i liked the pacing of it but. oh well. also i dont even think this fic had a plot?? it was just me writing while thinking of sunghoon😭 guys i promise one day i will post a Happy fic on tumblr with no death or murder or ambiguous endings🫶 anyways in case u wanted to know; sunghoon and y/n live happily ever after. idc if its inaccurate but sunghoon never gets caught murdering random people who touch y/n🤷♀️ anyways leave ur thoughts! i’d love to read them🩷
#enhypen#park sunghoon#park sunghoon x reader#enhypen angst#enhypen fluff#sunghoon angst#sunghoon fluff#sunghoon x reader#enhypen x reader#enhypen au#sunghoon
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✧.* 𝐑𝐈𝐍’𝐒 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 — 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ⋆·˚ ༘ *
𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 & 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃 ! 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝
✧ 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. welcome to my 2024 kinktober! all fics will be labeled and further tagged upon release. please read all warnings before proceeding! minors and ageless blogs do not interact, you will be blocked.
✧ 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐬. this list will contain, but is not limited to, seven fics consisting of characters from fandoms such as: league of legends: arcane, doctor who, the boys, the last of us, terrifier, and the MCU. no characters will be aged up as all are canonically adults, enjoy!
✧ 𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟏 — VI
oral + risky sex — in which your favorite client is in need of something, and wishes to pay you in the only way she knows how.
✧ 𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟓 — TENTH DOCTOR
aphrodisiac + exhibitionism — in which you and the doctor wind up prisoners to a new alien species and they wish to observe you using a rather potent catalyst.
✧ 𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟎 — ELLIE WILLIAMS
thigh riding + high sex — in which ellie finds you hidden away at a party hosted by your family. the two of you get to know each other a little bit better.
✧ 𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟓 — BILLY BUTCHER
hate fucking + age gap — in which butcher heads to a bar to blow off some steam and you go searching for him, finding it’s not just alcohol he wants.
✧ 𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎 — JESSICA JONES
praise + overstimulation — in which jessica has been a little frustrated with her work lately and she takes it out on you.
✧ 𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟓 — ART THE CLOWN
torture + non-con — in which a night out at the club goes awry when you catch the eye of a certain mute black and white clown. ***
✧ 𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟑𝟏 — HOMELANDER
somnophilia + captive — in which you manage to catch the eye of the one and only homelander. and he’ll go do whatever it takes to get what he wants: you. ***
*** after a fic’s description indicates very extreme material. non-con, violence, and potentially gore may be included. please read with caution, and understand that i DO NOT condone that shit in real life!
anyways, enjoy !! and if you’ve been here for my past kinktobers, as expected i don’t know if all of these fics will be fulfilled LOL
#kinktober 2024#kinktober#arcane kinktober#arcane#doctor who kinktober#doctor who#the boys kinktober#the boys#the last of us kinktober#the last of us#mcu kinktober#marvel mcu#marvel#mcu#arcane smut#doctor who smut#the boys smut#the last of us smut#marvel smut#horror kinktober#slasher kinktober#slashers#art the clown
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Half Time
She’d always been attracted to him.
AKA the one where Emily watches Aaron coach Jack's soccer team and loses her mind.
-x-
Hi friends,
I saw a pic of a man who looked vaguely like Aaron wearing a baby carrier whilst scrolling through Pinterest, and my brain shut off kind of like Emily's does in this.
Naturally, a smut fic was needed.
-x-
Words: 2.9k
Warnings: Smut, 18+
Read over on Ao3, or below the cut
She’d always been attracted to him.
Even back when she hated him, when he was her boss who didn’t trust her and let her know it, she’d felt it. An almost primal urge that pushed her towards him. If he hadn’t been married she’s sure she would have pulled him into a supply closet at some point, or the bathroom of the local bar where they often all went for drinks. She would have let him fuck her against any available surface, both of them getting the pent up emotions out in what they would have both claimed at the time was a one-time thing.
Looking back on it, she’s glad it didn’t end up that way. She’s grateful that she never gave into her baser instincts, that they’d waited until they were ready, somehow both in one piece again after everything they’d been through. If she had given in, if she’d kissed him one of the many, many times she’d considered it over the years, they likely wouldn’t have what they had now. They wouldn’t be married, wouldn’t be raising Jack together in the house they’d bought last year.
They wouldn’t have their little girl.
It seemed impossible to think about, something she didn’t even like to consider.
Emily smiles as she settles onto the bleachers, suppressing a yawn as she takes a sip of her coffee. Her smile gets wider when she spots Aaron, standing on the sidelines ready to coach Jack’s soccer team, with Violet strapped to him in her baby carrier. The four-month-old was contentedly asleep, her cheek pressed to her father’s chest, and the sight of them together warms Emily from the inside out. He was such a good father that it made her ache sometimes, that same primal feeling she’d had all those years ago sparking deep in her gut whenever she watched him interact with their children.
She finds herself distracted by it, her gaze fixed on the way he places his hand on Violet’s back, how he looks down to check on her as he talks to one of the other parents standing near him. Emily goes to sip her coffee again but almost misses her mouth, she clears her throat and looks around to make sure no one saw it happen. Her eyes go wide when she looks back at Aaron to find him looking at her, a smirk on his face that she hates as much as she loves and she narrows her eyes at him. He winks before he goes back to paying attention to the game and she curses herself internally, shaking her head as she presses her lips together.
“Hi, Emily.”
She turns at the sound of Jessica’s voice and smiles, “Hi Jess,” she says, pulling her into a hug as she sits next to her, “Jack will be so pleased you made it.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she replies, her smile turning curious as she looks at Aaron, “Is Vi helping with coaching today?”
Emily chuckles and shakes her head, “No, we had a bit of a rough night and apparently only I would do according to Violet,” she says, her exhaustion feeling briefly worse as she acknowledges it, “Aaron insisted on taking her so I could have a break.”
“Is she okay?” Jessica asks, her eyebrows furrowing together in concern. She loved Violet in the same way she loved Jack, and had referred to her as her niece from the first time she met the little girl. Emily was endlessly grateful for the woman sitting next to her, for the way she had accepted her place in Jack and Aaron’s life so easily, and now how she loved her daughter.
“She’s okay,” Emily assures her, looking back over at Aaron and smiling at how he still has his hand on Violet’s back, how the baby looks impossibly smaller against him. She feels the familiar pull in her lower belly again and she looks back at Jessica, “Just the four month sleep regression I think,” she says, her smile wry, “We’re not getting a whole lot of sleep at the minute.”
Jessica’s smile turns into a smirk, the kind of expression Emily’s sure a sister would have given her if she’d ever had one, and she leans in closer so no one other than Emily can hear her, “I’m assuming sleeping isn’t the only thing there isn’t a whole lot of right now?”
Emily’s eyes go wide and she can feel her cheeks burning, something that only makes Jessica laugh at her. She clears her throat and shrugs, well aware that her attempts at nonchalance had failed, “I don’t know what you mean.”
It had been a little longer since she’d last had sex than she cared to admit. Their sex life had always been healthy but towards the end of her pregnancy and ever since she gave birth it wasn’t something that happened anywhere near as often. In the 10 weeks since she’d been cleared by her doctor after she’d had Violet, they’d only had sex a handful of times and it was driving her crazy.
Jessica rolls her eyes, “Please, Emily. You’re looking at him like a lion looks at a gazelle on those nature documentaries,” she says, her smile only getting wider when Emily averts her gaze, “I’m happy to take the kids for a few hours.”
She chuckles dryly and shakes her head, “No, it’s okay. Jack is going to his friends this afternoon anyway and Vi usually goes down for her afternoon nap with no issues.”
Their attention is pulled away from each other as they hear Aaron yell at someone to be careful. When Emily looks over he now has both hands on, a still sleeping, Violet’s back and he is frowning at the man standing just a couple of paces away from them. It didn’t take much to realise that the other man had clearly walked into Aaron, his protective stance and the glare on his face all the evidence Emily needs, and she feels her nerves tingling just at the thought of it. Sparks setting off throughout her body at the thought of him yelling at someone, something she’d always found almost disturbingly attractive, to protect their little girl enough to tip her over the edge.
She clenches her teeth to try and gain control of herself, blowing out a steady breath as she hears a muffled giggle from beside her, and she turns to look at Jessica.
“Haley always liked it when he was assertive too.”
“Jess.”
___
Emily doesn’t think she’s ever been more grateful that Violet goes down for her nap without fussing.
She changes out of the clothes she wore to the soccer game and puts on one of Aaron’s shirts and a pair of his boxers, partially because Violet spit up on her after she fed her, partially because she knows the sight of her in his clothes sends her husband wild. Her need for him had only increased as the soccer game wore on, and it wasn’t helped by the fact he’d placed his warm, heavy, hand on her thigh the entire journey home. She wasn’t going to waste the small amount of alone time they had.
She finds him in the kitchen, humming off key to himself as he empties the dishwasher. She stares at him for a moment, watches how the muscles in his arms shift under his skin, how the material of his polo shirt stretches around his triceps. Her gaze trails downwards, landing on his ass, perfectly hugged by his jeans, and she swallows thickly.
She places the baby monitor down on the counter and walks over to him, wrapping her arms around him from behind and resting her head on his shoulder.
“Did she go down okay?” He asks, his hand automatically seeking out hers as she places it on his abdomen.
“Yes,” she replies, breathing in the scent of him, something that was uniquely him sneaking out from underneath the cologne she’d bought him, “For a girl who apparently hates sleeping at night she sure loves a nap.”
He giggles and turns in her embrace, briefly frozen in place when he sees what she’s wearing. He swallows thickly, his hands shifting to her hips, and she presses her lips together, knowing she’s got him exactly where she wants him.
“You changed?”
She shrugs, “Vi spit up on me.”
He doesn’t entirely believe her and she knows it, the way he grips her hip even tighter all the acknowledgement she needs.
He looks her up and down, the sight of his clothes on her doing exactly what he knows she’d planned for. He backs her up against the kitchen counter, smirking when she jumps slightly when it hits her back, trapping her between him and the marble.
“So,” he says, smiling as her tongue pokes out to lick her lower lip, his focus stuck on how it shines afterwards, making him want to do nothing other than taste her skin, “We probably have about an hour until she wakes up.”
Emily hums, shifting back and forth as she rubs her thighs together for a moment of relief, the tension between them close to making her snap, “I wonder what we should do,” she says, her eyes flicking up to his, “To pass the time-”
She’s cut off as he surges forward, his lips against hers as he cups her cheeks, holding her in place. She sighs contentedly into the kiss and wraps her arms around him, her fingers digging into his back through his polo shirt. She opens her mouth to grant him access, moaning as he deepens the kiss. They only pull back when the need for oxygen comes too much, both of them light-headed as they gasp for air, but Aaron carries on, kissing her cheek and then her jaw, carrying on down her throat as if he was a man starved.
It was nice to know she wasn’t the only one who had been going a little crazy lately.
He pushes the shirt she’s wearing down her shoulder, licking at her skin, groaning at the taste of her. It was something he never got used to even after all this time, forever under her spell. He pulls the strap of her bra down, nipping at the skin it had covered and she sighs, pressing her hips against his. He smirks against her and does it again, his palm sneaking under the bottom of the shirt and grasping at her, tracing familiar hills and valleys he knows he could map in his sleep.
She moans as he gets closer to her breasts, his thumb tracing under the cup of her bra and she places her hands on his shoulders. She was sensitive, sore in a way she hadn’t known was possible before she started to breastfeed, and the thought of it breaks through the haze that had washed over her.
“Honey,” she gasps out, “They’re-��
“Off limits,” he says, his touch becoming softer as he presses a gentle kiss to the top of her breast, “I know, sweetheart.”
She smiles and cups his face, pulling him in for a kiss. She wraps her arms around his neck and moans as his hands shift to her hips. He stands back just far enough to help lift her onto the counter, his thumbs in the waistline of the boxers she's wearing so he can pull them down her legs. He lets them drop to the floor and steps between her legs and runs his hand up her thigh, smirking and breaking the kiss as he feels the slick on her skin. He groans as he runs his fingers through her folds, his smile getting wider when she rocks her hips against his hand.
“You’re so wet, Em,” he says, his jeans getting so tight they feel uncomfortable, “So desperate for me,” he leans in and kisses her cheek, “I think someone likes watching me coach the soccer team.”
She hums and nods, rolling her hips against his hand, any embarrassment she might feel at being caught out overwhelmed by her desire for him.
“Aaron, please-” She’s cut off as he slips one of his fingers inside of her, her words disappearing into a moan as he rubs circles on her clit, “Fuck, yes. That’s it.”
It had always been like this. Like he’d not only studied the manual for her body, for what brought her to the edge, but like he’d written the damn thing. His famous attention to detail something that she quickly learnt wasn’t just something he applied at work.
Usually, he’d tease her, build her up slowly as she begged for more, the breathy sounds she’d release against his skin one of his favourite sounds in the world. But he knows their time is limited, that they’d have to stop if Violet wakes up, so he doesn’t. He’s relentless, circling her clit in a way that makes her grip at his arm, her nails digging into his skin and leaving red marks, and he pumps his finger in and out of her, adding a second just to hear her groan. She rests her forehead on his shoulder and she shudders, a sure sign she is close.
“Aaron…I’m…” she gasps, clenching around his fingers, her grip on his arm getting tighter as her words catch in her chest,
“Come for me, sweetheart,” he says gruffly, his voice thick with desire, and she moans his name as she comes, her head thrown back as every nerve in her body catches fire, a spark setting off in her gut and spreading outwards.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” she mutters as she comes down, chuckling as she shakes her head.
“No, just me,” he replies, winking at her and she rolls her eyes, pulling him in for a kiss as she runs her hands down his back and cups his ass through his jeans. She wraps one of her legs around his waist and pulls him closer, her heel digging into his back.
“Take off your jeans,” she says, smiling as he immediately complies.
He undoes his belt and jeans, lowering them and his boxers just enough so he can spring free. It’s a small relief, the discomfort his jeans had caused gone, but it’s not enough, the desire to be inside of her overwhelming. He groans as she reaches for him, pumping him up and down as he steps closer, her other leg hooking around his waist.
They groan in unison as she guides him into her, the familiar feeling no less incredible than it had been the very first time. She rests her forehead against his, her breath shuddering over his skin as she gets used to the stretch of him. He stays still, his hands tight on her hips as he holds her close and she rolls her hips, desperate for him to move.
“Aaron, please,” she says, her lips hovering over his. Her eyes roll back as he pulls out of her and pushes back in, long, slow strokes that feel like they push the hair from her lungs.
“You feel so good sweetheart,” he grunts, chasing her lips in a desperate kiss, “So fucking good.”
“You too,” she replies, rolling her hips in tandem with his, “So good.”
She rests her forehead on his shoulder, letting herself get lost in the feeling of him, in the feel of them. Sex had always been something she enjoyed, but with him, it had always been different. It could be fast and desperate like this, where they needed each other so much they didn’t even take off all their clothes. Or it could be slow and sensual, their hands linked together as they took their time, showing each other how much they loved each other.
She feels herself getting close again, the feeling simmering low in her gut. He’s close too, his hips stuttering as he speeds up. She opens her mouth to tell him, but he already knows, his thumb on her clit as he reaches between them, rubbing gentle circles against her. She gasps and clenches around him, making him groan as he thrusts against her. They tip over the edge together, Emily’s teeth sinking into his shoulder through his shirt so she doesn’t scream out, her mind just about able to remind her their baby was asleep upstairs.
“Fuck, Em,” he grunts as he comes deep inside of her, his cheek resting against the top of her head, “I love you so much.”
She chuckles breathlessly, “Love you too,” she pulls back to look at him, her hands on his cheeks as she pulls him into a gentle kiss, “I needed that.”
“Me too,” He laughs and rests his forehead on her shoulder, breathless as she runs her fingers through his hair, “You really had to change into my clothes?”
She playfully narrows her eyes at him as she encourages him to look at her. She places her hand on his chest and rubs the material of his shirt between her thumb and forefinger, “Oh come on, like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing when you put on this polo shirt this morning?”
-x-
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Who I write for
Please read my request rules before sending in an request!
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S.W.A.T. (2017)
- Deacon Kay
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- Victor Tan
Chicago PD
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- Hailey Upton
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- BAU (platonic)
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The Curse of Cassandra [EP : IX]
Read in Ao3 : here
Pairings : Qimir x f!reader(SEA Reader) [The Acolyte]
Content waring : 18+ smut/nsfw, dubcon, drugged, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie
tags/themes : Alternate Universe - Dune & Star wars, Partners in Crime, Strangers to Lovers
Summary : 'The Jessica Crime' named after Paul Atreides' mother, instructs the Bene Gesserit to 'never fall in love and always prioritize humanity over personal feelings.' Your love for Qimir is no different from Lady Jessica's love for Duke Leto—a love that will lead to great losses. You come to realize this truth as you uncover his hidden secrets and true identity.
Status: just finished writing this fic! (It will end in Episode 14)
A/N : Great news! I just wrapped up this fic, and it’ll be finished in Episode 14. I’ll need a bit of time to proofread it, but I’ll do my best to post updates frequently so you won't have to wait too long!
Also, I want you to listen to this song while reading this episode. It fits perfectly with the moment: Ciara - Paint It, Black.
Ps.If you enjoy my work, please reblog it. Just liking the post won’t help others discover it.
➡ Intro // EP : 1 // EP : 2 // EP : 3 // EP : 4 // EP : 5 // EP : 6 // EP : 7 // EP : 8 // EP : 10 // EP : 11 // EP : 12 // EP : 13 // EP : 14 (Completed)
Special OS : Phantom Thread
[Episodes 9] The Jessica Crime
"You’ve been acting strangely since you woke up. What happened to you?"
Qimir's voice echoes faintly from outside your consciousness. You can’t even tell from which point in time it’s coming—past, present, or maybe it’s all just a future that hasn't happened yet.
Loss of temporal footing. Another voice fills your head, but this time it is the voice within your mind. The brief explanation brings you instant clarity. This is one of the symptoms experienced by those gifted with the ability to perceive across the dimensions of time. The flood of vast information overwhelms your mind, making it impossible to process in an orderly manner, intertwining the past, present, and future into a chaotic blend that is nearly impossible to separate.
You must find your anchor point, a point that makes you aware you are standing in the present.
The familiar voice urges you, guiding you on your next steps.
You recall the taste of spice in your tea cup—that peculiar blend of sweetness and fiery heat lingering on your tongue. You commit these sensations to memory, anchoring yourself in the present moment, while everything else beyond this remains as visions of what has been or what is yet to come.
"I think you’re taking too much spice."
This is the present, you remind yourself, as Qimir pulls the tea cup from your grasp. At the mention of spice, your thoughts momentarily drift to Arrakis, the planet you once saw in your dreams. Arrakis used to be the primary source of spice, which was once the most valuable substance in the universe. But now, it’s merely a rare, costly drug, dismissed as useless by most.[1]
Few know that spice isn’t just a hallucinogen; it also enhances the ability to see into the future. That is why you need to consume it, despite the many side effects it has on your body.
You need to stay alert tonight to anticipate and prepare for what is coming next.
There’s a sedative in the food.
You quietly review your plan in your mind. You have learned extensively about medicines from Qimir—how to identify herbs and concoct various potions with precision. Crafting a sedative isn't difficult; the challenge lies in administering it seamlessly so that even someone as sharp as Qimir won’t suspect a thing.
I used a method from the Suk School[2], you think, letting your mind drift back to the memories of your ancestors, back to a time before Paul Atreides became the Lisan al-Gaib.
You travel back to a pivotal moment in the galaxy's brutal history when House Harkonnen ruthlessly annihilated House Atreides. They initiated their plan by sedating everyone present before storming in to slaughter soldiers and servants, saving the key figures for last.
Your consciousness remains anchored in that moment, hearing the deep, mocking voice of Baron Vladimir Harkonnen as he taunts Lady Jessica, the Bene Gesserit and mother of Paul Atreides: “The sedative's effects were precisely calculated. We even know the exact second you will awaken.”
The method was simple: by knowing only height and weight, the Suk doctors could concoct the sedative in the precise dosage needed to control both the onset of drowsiness and the moment of awakening. Using this technique makes everything appear seamless and natural, as if the drowsiness were merely a result of natural fatigue rather than the effect of a drug. Qimir wouldn’t suspect he had been drugged—not until he woke up the next morning.
And by then, you’re certain you’ll be long gone from him.
He might harbor a slight suspicion now. you think, watching Qimir across the dinner table as he takes a bite of the Bocha[3] you prepared. But because he loves me, he chooses to trust me rather than doubt. And that will be his mistake.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Qimir remarks. You notice he’s finished eating and is now pouring you a glass of plain water—no spice. “What’s on your mind?”
You sense the growing suspicion in his eyes, sparked by your own lethargic and distant demeanor—a side effect of the spice and the temporal disorientation swirling in your mind. You know that Qimir's questioning isn't a good sign. If his doubts continue to deepen, the whole plan could easily unravel.
Clenching your fists, you deliberately press your nails into the soft skin of your palms, using the pain to anchor your mind in the present before responding in a calm voice: “I was just thinking of Arrakis. I dreamed of it a few nights ago.”
Arrakis. Qimir's brows furrow as he recalls how he’s heard you mutter the name of the ancient planet many times in your sleep.
He knows only that Arrakis was once the home planet of the Fremen, but beyond that, he knows little else. After the Holy Jihad ended, the stories of the Fremen became forbidden tales, lost to the sands of time. No records remain to testify to their existence. If Qimir hadn’t met you, he would have never believed that any Fremen still existed in this galaxy.
“Tell me,” he says softly. “About what you saw—about your home planet.”
You freeze for a moment, your mind pulled back into the past once more. Someone asked me this same question long ago.
How long? A thousand years, perhaps.
Deep in your consciousness, you find yourself sitting at the mouth of a sealed stone cave on Arrakis. Your gaze drifts over the distant rock formations and stretches of sand, a sense of peace settling over you. Cradled in your arms is a young Fremen woman of your age. As the night remains still, your lips meet in a silent kiss. She looks at you with eyes full of love, gently placing her hand on your cheek and whispering softly, “Usul, my beloved, tell me about your home planet.”
You blink, and the image shifts back to the present. The Fremen woman is replaced by Qimir. They share nothing in common except for those same eyes filled with love looking back at you.
Your heart wavers with confusion, a momentary urge to abandon your plan and confess the truth surging within you. But you can’t—there's no turning back now, only the choice to move forward.
“Arrakis was a desolate and arid planet, harsher than any other in the universe,” you say, setting your glass down on the table. “Water was so precious that we had to wear stillsuits at all times. These suits were designed to reclaim the body’s sweat and moisture, turning it into drinkable water.”
Qimir stares at you in amazement, a hint of apprehension creeping into his expression. “Are you saying that the Fremen used to drink their own sweat and... pee?”
You nod, almost smiling at his reaction. “We reclaimed even the water from corpses.”
“How did it taste?”
"Much worse than regular water," you reply, even though you've never actually tasted water from a stillsuit yourself. The memories of others make you feel as if you had. That warm, bland liquid was disgusting and bitter. "It was stale and unpleasant, but it was drinkable. We didn’t have much choice."
“That kind of life must’ve been incredibly hard.”
“Harder than anyone could imagine.” You hear a haunting wail deep within your mind as memories of brutal, unforgiving times resurface: stories of the Fremen fighting against ruthless rulers who came to exploit and plunder this planet, just to survive each day.
You take a deep breath before continuing, “But those hardships made us strong. We did whatever was necessary to survive.”
Qimir senses the bitterness in your words—the coldness laced with an undercurrent of isolation and pain hidden beneath those brief sentences.
He studies you for a moment, taking in your face and the deep blue eyes unique to the Fremen. The longer he looks, the more he senses a change within you. It’s as if you are no longer the person he once knew but someone from a distant, ancient world—a world he could never truly reach or understand, no matter how hard he tried.
Qimir moves closer, his hand reaching for yours. That's when he notices the small crescent-shaped marks from your nails on your palm. He stares at them for a moment before lifting your hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss on the wound. “You’re not alone anymore, Hara.”
You know that whenever Qimir calls you by your Fremen name, it’s his way of expressing love and comfort. It always makes your heart soften, even though you know, deep down, that these feelings should never have existed in the first place.
The Bene Gesserit learned a harsh lesson from this long ago. They called it ‘The Jessica Crime,’[4] named after the mother of Paul Atreides.
It is said that her love for Duke Leto led her to follow her heart rather than obey the Sisterhood's orders, giving birth to a son when she was supposed to bear a daughter. This act altered the fate of the universe by bringing forth the Kwisatz Haderach prematurely, sparking a galactic war that ultimately led to unimaginable losses.
Since then, the Bene Gesserit established an inviolable rule—a warning passed down to every sister of every generation: never fall in love and always place the greater good of humanity above personal feelings.
You alone truly understand Jessica's thoughts, even though you exist in different times.
For to forbid someone from loving is like forbidding them from dying. As long as humanity has a heart, that rule will always remain impossible to follow.
Under the intoxicating influence of the spice that still clouds your senses, the world around you feels like a mirage. Even as Qimir's lips trail up to your mouth and neck, lingering in a slow, tender kiss, and his large hands caress your body, sending shivers of electricity through your skin,
This is real. All of this is real. You remind yourself as you surrender your body and being to his embrace.
You are fully aware that you're making the same mistake Jessica did. You grasp this truth with perfect clarity, knowing the consequences that will follow. Yet you allow it to happen because denying it would only arouse suspicion. Besides, deep down, you don’t want to deny your own feelings. This might be the last moment you and he share together before your fragile bond shatters beyond repair.
Your fading consciousness returns briefly as Qimir guides you to the bed. His hands deftly undo the knots of your clothes, just as he does with his own, leaving both your bodies and souls exposed.
Qimir pulls you onto his lap, your bare skin pressing against his, every soft curve and firm muscle meeting in intimate contact. You feel his growing arousal beneath your thighs.
For the first time, he lets you touch the cross-shaped scar on his back. You trace it gently, unable to stop yourself from asking, “Did it hurt much when you got this scar?”
“More than words can express,” he replies with a faint smile, though his eyes shine with anger at the memory. “I’ve never forgotten what happened that day.”
You don’t press him further; you know when to ask and when to remain silent. Besides, curiosity is unnecessary for you, as you've already glimpsed some of what he's faced and the terrible things he's done. Qimir may be gentle with you, but he's not a good man. His hands are stained with the blood of countless lives, and yet you still allow those hands to roughly explore every part of your body, fully aware of who he is and what he's done.
Your breath hitches as Qimir's fingers pinch and knead your nipple, sending a jolt of heat that spreads across your face. His other hand slowly glides down your stomach, lower and lower, until it reaches your most sensitive area. His fingertips explore your folds, circling your clit before sliding inside. He moves with a steady rhythm—neither too slow nor too fast—just enough to awaken your arousal. It wasn’t long before your desire soared, and the slickness between your legs made you ready for what comes next.
You lean over Qimir, carefully lowering yourself onto him, taking your time. A wave of desire washes over you as the tip of his cock gradually enters you. You exhale shakily, resting your forehead upon his shoulder, savoring the feeling as every vein of his length drags against your gummy walls. filling and stretching you in all the right ways. The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of intimacy and longing as your bodies merge completely.
Qimir's arms wrapped around your waist, holding you firmly as you begin to move your hips, riding his cock with a slow rhythm. He presses wet kisses along your jaw, trailing down to your neck, where he bites and sucks, leaving marks as if to claim you. Meanwhile, your nails dig into his back, uncaring that it might hurt him—you're certain he enjoys it.
A moan escapes your lips as Qimir thrusts up into you, his hips smacking sloppily against wet lips between your legs. bullying his cock deeper inside you. He begins to rut into you with increasing force, making your entire body tremble with pleasure, the intensity building as he swiftly took control. guiding your hips to move in sync with his, alternating between slow and quick thrusts.
The rhythm of desire is as tangled and complex as the threads of time. He knows exactly what you need, and you know what he desires, as if you've known each other for an eternity.
As your bodies move in perfect synchrony, chasing the orgasm that coils tight in your stomach, your thoughts and emotions begin to merge into one. While making love with Qimir, you catch glimpses of fragmented memories hidden within him, each flashing before your eyes like a rapidly playing video. You see the deaths of Jedi, the twisted desires, and the ominous shadow of a man wearing a cracked metal helmet, its surface etched with a twisted smile—the Sith who tried to kill you in your dreams.
They’re all the same person—each one is him.
“Qimir!”
You cry out, your voice breaking as your eyes widen in shock. Your entire body quakes with an indescribable sensation, torn between the bliss of your orgasm and the terror buried deep within your mind. You hear Qimir's low growl in your ear as he drives into you harder, relentless thrusts, until his movements begin to slow. His cock throbs inside you as he finally releases, painting your insides white with his cum, filling you to the brim and overflowing.
Qimir leans back on the bed, his breathing noticeably slowing, his eyelids heavy with exhaustion. He looks more drained than usual but still has the strength to pull you into his arms. You barely dare to breathe, lying stiffly under his hold, watching him as he drifts off to sleep in mere moments.
You remain still for a while, waiting until you’re sure Qimir is in a deep sleep before carefully untangling yourself from his hold. Slipping out of bed, you dress quietly, your mind already knowing what you must do next. But when you glance back at Qimir one last time, hesitation grips you.
You bite your lip, knowing that the wisest thing to do right now is to gather your belongings, escape this place, and contact Sol immediately. Yet your mind refuses to settle until you confirm the truth with your own eyes, even though you already know deep down that the vision couldn’t possibly be wrong.
Moving with quiet precision, you find yourself in front of Qimir’s office—a place you were never allowed to enter. The door, locked with a digital passcode, is something you don’t know; however, the images from your vision guide your fingers as you type the code accurately. The door slides open.
Inside, the room is large and spacious, a blend of an office and a workshop. One corner holds a cluttered desk, while another is filled with tools and equipment, and shelves and crates are haphazardly cluttered around.
But what draws your attention most is a metal chest on the lowest shelf. Something within seems to beckon to you, like a faint whisper, urging you toward the secret waiting to be uncovered.
Kneeling on the floor, your hand trembles as you reach out to touch the chest. The cold metal startles you slightly, and a sudden fear wells up within you, making you hesitate to open it. I must not fear. Fear is the mindkiller. You recite the Bene Gesserit litany in your mind to calm your nerves before finally deciding to open the chest with a swift motion.
What you find inside makes you cover your mouth in shock. The truth Qimir had been hiding all along now unfolds before you.
Inside the chest lies a helmet made of cortosis, its dark, tarnished metal streaked with dull gold. The helmet is cracked in several places, though it has been mended. Its most distinct feature remains intact—the grotesque smile carved into the lower half of the helmet—the same smile you’ve seen countless times in your dreams
You think back to the events on the Trade Federation ship, where Qimir had appeared instead of the Sith. His face superimposes over the helmet in the chest, and in that instant, everything becomes crystal clear.
The man you've lived with all these years, the only one you've let into your life, is the very source of the darkness that haunts your dreams. Beneath the facade of a freelance trader and gentle lover lurks a terrifying truth—He is the Sith Lord, the threat to the galaxy, the ruthless Jedi killer, and possibly the one who may take your life.
Footnotes:
[1] This fic tweaks canon a bit—In canon, stopping spice use means losing prescient vision forever, but in this fic, you can quit without issue.
[2] Suk Doctors, trained at the Suk School, are elite physicians in the Dune universe, usually serving only wealthy families.
[3] Bocha is a crispy, delicious dish from The High Republic era, often served hot.
[4] According to the Dune novels, Lady Jessica’s defiance of the Bene Gesserit by having Paul Atreides is called 'The Jessica Crime,' a lesson for future generations to always control their emotions for humanity's sake."
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