#i have thoughts but not this early in the morning

[scrumdidiliyumyum]

Something special ||

Prologue - > Part 1 - > Part 2

Yan! Batfam x Neglected! Reader

hope you guys enjoy!!

"Make sure to not miss any notes okay?"

You looked up at your mom despite the sunlight shining in your eyes as she smiled at you, "okay!" You trained your focus back to the piano she had guided you to, one that had collected dust in every nook and cranny, tucked into the corner of your home.

Your mom took her place behind you before resting her hands over yours. You felt her slowly guide your hands to each note, missing a few here and there piecing together a sloppily made song, one that you could barely hear over the giggles you couldnt help but let out.

Be-

You giggled more when she spend up the song, guiding your hands back and forth.

-ep

"See," your mama started, "you're getting it! I knew you would my smart little girl." She said from above you. You looked up, expecting to see her smiling brightly down at you, but-

You felt nothing but horror seeing nothing but a scratched out face.

Beep!

You shot up from your bed, sweating intensely and heart thumping wildly in your chest. Your breathing was erratic for a few minutes before you could bring it back to a normal pace. When you finally managed to calm down, you let out a sigh,

"Another nightmare." You've already had a few nightmares here and there, but recently they've become a bit too intense recently. It's not anything generically scary, but it's precious memories

Precious memories where you can never seem to remember your moms face.

It started off small, little details, a misplaced freckle here and there, before suddenly noticable things like wrong eye color. Was it really the wrong color or did you just forget?

You didn't wanna have to get up and deal with another long day, one full of advanced classes and a tad bit too many extracurriculars. As much as you hated to admit it, the overloaded work schedule was starting to take its toll on you, and you weren't too sure how to handle it.

Maybe you could rest, let yourself sleep in for the first time in what seemed like forever, even though you had some things to catch up on, maybe you could grant yourself this little mercy.

You looked up at the huge wall you passed by everytime you went to your room, littered with pictures of all the family's adventures. Dicks big flips through the air, like a bird soaring freely, Damiens standing strong showing the confidence he holds in himself, Duke smiling brightly with Tim and Stephanie. A place you so longingly wished to be placed upon.

you paused in your thoughts about deserting everything, before finally deciding to finally get up out of bed. you forced yourself to head to the bathroom and get a headstart on your day.

—

God it was too early for this

Because you tried your best to get an earlier headstart to your day, you had taken it upon yourself to drive every day to school as to not give Alfred more work, and not have to share the car with Damien, who loved nothing more than to poke, prod and criticize everything you did.

You had wanted to get to school early to get ahead on the schoolwork you had that was starting to slowly build up, along with some club work you had been given as of recently. Being in so many things and working as tirelessly as you did, it amazed people. Teachers, students, advisors.

It really was amazing to see the eyes full of admiration, something you had been longing for for years, but sometimes all you wished was to quit everything and actually hang out with your friends for once, to go to sleep without the countless responsibilities plaguing your mind.

You sighed as you pulled into the school parking lot, parking the car in front of the school and sat for a minute to mentally prepare yourself for the day ahead of you. Finally you checked your bag that was sitting in the passenger seat and fixed your uniform before getting up and out of the car.

Time for another day.

—

Even though it was tiring, studying in the early mornings at the library with the sun shining through the stained glass pane windows, sprinting to every class, ones full of hours and hours of homework, most advanced to give yourself an advantage, and trudge towards clubs at the end of every day, you made it work.

You kept everything on a tight schedule, having to keep everything on a time restraint to be able to manage everything without feeling like you were going insane. And you did, but you kept pushing as hard as you could.

But you tried to not make it seem as such, mainly for one reason.

Ms. Honey.

She was always worried about you, a lady with a heart of gold that could see the tiredness that seeped through your eyes and consumed every single part of your body. A tiredness that made it seem as if your body would suddenly one day just entirely give up on you.

She was someone who made sure that you were getting enough rest, food, and weren't overworking yourself as much as you always did.

Of course you knew that no one really cared in the end. Other than the friends you kept in your close nit circle, you knew that no one would really pay any mind of course.

But you knew Ms. Honey, and you knew that if she felt the need to, she would tell your father about all the late night studying you did, all the tears and confessions you let out to her when things felt too real, or the way your eyes would fight to stay open when you had her class, something she always noticed despite her attempts to pretend she didnt.

You didn't want him to find out, not because he would care, but because you knew he would be upset. He'd be upset that you made him seem like someone that couldn't even care for his own child, someone that was the complete opposite of his public image, and you didn't want to give then another reason to dislike you, not when you were trying so hard to do otherwise.

So you put on fake smiles, grinned so hard that it almost brought you to tears everytime. Not only for her, but eventually even your friends. Everything felt like a hassle, and that alone forced you to put on a facade to the world, one that felt heavier and heavier every day that went on.

But you tried.

You really did.

—

You strolled by the students that were ending the opposite way from you towards the door, along with the other students that had club activities. This was the one time of day that was relatively peaceful for you before it was overtaken with even more responsibilities for you to bear.

You peaked into one particular clubroom, after hearing your name being called. Your newspaper club, a club that you shared with a few of your friends, and always in a way gave you a sense of comfort. Looking in, you saw the one and only Miss Honey. You gave her a relaxed smile once she took notice of you and entered once she ushered you in with her hand.

Her eyes took on a softness once she looked at you, "Y/N, it's a pleasure to see you as always, how was your day?" You paused to think, "it was okay, y'know, the usual." She winced a little at that before returning her smile from before, albeit a little strained. "Ah, I see. Well I just wanted to check in with you, you can stay here and relax or you can go on to your next club, but nonetheless, thank you for stopping bye."

You gave her a smile before slowly retreating out of the classroom, "I'll see you around Miss Honey?" She brought her attention away from her work, and back to you, giving you a more genuine smile. "Of course, I'll see you soon."

You took that as an end to the conversation and left to your next club, letting the smile drop from your face. After you left, Miss Honey couldn't help but do the same and let her feelings come forth and settle in on her face. It truly did break her heart how sad you always seemed to be.

"I know, it must be pretty confusing for me to ask you to see me," Miss Honey stated as calmly as she could, "but I'm worried about your sister. She's been overworking herself and I know, I know she says that she's fine but, I know her and I can tell she isnt." Miss Honey paused, it seemed as though she had more to say but instead let the words die in the back of her throat while waiting for his response.

Damien let out an irritated sigh, "and why is this my problem?" Miss Honey was a bit taken back for a moment. Were they really family? After she regained her composure she responded, "well, she's your sister, is she not? I can't see why it wouldn't be." She let out a little laugh to lighten the tension but quickly regretted it seeing the cold-blooded stare she got in return.

She knew this was a bad idea, she really did, but she was just so worried. She could see it despite how much you tried to hide it. A friend of yours even let it slip how much you had been working as of recently. She brought her attention back to Damien as he cleared his throat.

"I'll... check in. But only because it was brought to my attention, so don't try and bother me with the nonsense again, alright?" She swallowed harshly before nodding her head, standing up and thanking him profusely. "Thank you, thank you really. I really do appreciate this."

Damien quickly gathered his belongings before heading back to his homeroom, to grab his stuff and go home. He honestly couldn't care less for whether or not you were okay, in fact if anything it was a good thing, finally putting good use to the last name you were given. Though he tried to ignore the small pull in his heart whenever he saw the tired eyes you shifted his way.

He couldn't let something as small as this continue, even though it was just a teachers worries, it could become something bigger, something worse, a stain on fathers carefully created reputation. And as his son, it was his job to put a pin in this.

You walked through the halls that seemed to grow longer every day. You needed to get back to your room and work on your club work. Newspaper class needed an essay on the new rules that the dean had passed along with student polls. Your photography club needed the, 'your life' collage by Friday, and you didn't even want to get started on debate.

You needed to work on homework as well, but you couldn't bring yourself to at the moment. Your brain felt like mush and you knew you didn't have the brains required at the moment to do the advanced formulas for math class, or the willpower to research more for your science fair project. You just couldn't

But you had to because-

.

Why did you have to?

Why did you have to work yourself to the bone everyday, to just come home to an empty manor, a place you didn't even feel comfortable enough to call a home? The people here would never read through the essays you spend hours creating, or go to your debate matches and listen to the arguments you piece together with ease.

So why did you work so hard? For a pat on the back that would never come for you, for another harsh criticism from your so called brother? could you even call someone like that your brother? Do siblings kill eachothers spirit with every word they spit at one another's way?

"H-"

You wanted to go back. To go back to that bright apartment- home. To the place that you used to do so many things with your mama in. God you missed her. Why did you have to have her, the one person who loved you, liked you taken away?

"He-"

How much more would you have to suffer before you could finally be able to live without the burdens weighing upon your mind 24/7?

"Hey Y/N!"

You jumped out of your trance before snapping your head over to Duke, who was looking at you with concerned eyes and an unsure smile. He paused to think of what to say now that he got your attention, "you doing okay?"

"..Yes?" You winced internally at how unconvinced that came out, you could see on his face that he clearly didnt believe you. "Are you sure? Damien mentioned your...dilemma."

You let out a sigh, you honestly just wanted to go to your room, "yes, I promise I'm fine- wait I'm sorry what?" Your dilemma? What dilemma? You could feel yourself starting to freak out, mainly because that was a pretty big area to cover. It could've been one of your clubs, classes, teachers-

You felt your heart drop as that last category came to mind. Had Miss Honey said something to him? You tried to think back to times where you messed up in front of her. Did she notice despite the smiles you put on for her? And if Damien told Duke already, how many other people had he told?

Dukes concerned face came back into focus, his mouth was moving but you couldn't hear a single word that was coming out of it. You felt absolutely sick. Your breathing had sped up against your will, and you were starting to see black spots in your vision.

Before you could help it, your legs buckled out from underneath you, and before you knew it all you could register was the pounding in your head and the vision of Dukes arms shooting to grab you before your head smacked against the floor.

It was really sunny that day, to the point that you felt like you were going to melt into a puddle. You honestly didn't pay it too much mind, mainly because you were much more focused on something else.

You giggled as your mom wrapped her arms around your waist and lifted you in the air from the small mattress you two shared, swinging you around while tickling you. You had replayed this in your mind more times than you could count, considering this was the day your mom passed.

You remember how happy you had been at first, despite the fact that it was just any other day. Getting up to your mom nudging you awake, having her whisk you off to the bathroom to get you all set for the big day ahead of you, making you breakfast full of as many nutrients as she could possibly pack into it, always trying to incorporate a smiley face into her finished work.

It was so simple, but so special.

It played like a broken loop in the late nights where you felt so utterly alone, nothing able to distract you. From the memories, the emptiness you felt when you saw your mom hunched over and eventually lying cold on the kitchen floor with smoke coming from the frying pan. The sadness you felt being dragged away from the home you two shared and made your own. The anger you felt whenever you failed to remember her voice.

You loved your mom, and even the memories that came with her, but this, this one specific memory hurt the most. It hurt because you never could do anything to change it. You couldn't when you were pulling on your dead moms arms to get up, and you couldn't when the memory played in your head while you tried to sleep.

You wished you could turn away- no, run away from this memory and bury it in the deep depths of your mind-

"You know mama always loves you right?"

You paused in what you were doing and turned towards her, confused on why she had stated the obvious. "Yeah I do! And I love you more than I love dessert!" You said with a proud grin. Your mom just turn her head towards you before bursting out in laughter, pure and filled with joy.

Her tone took a somber tone as she then said, "I won't always be here y'know. I know you don't understand what I mean now, but, just know that mama loves you no matter what, where, or who you are, okay?" You stared at her for a second before you smiled at her,

"Okay!"

You slowly opened your eyes, flinching from the sunlight seeping through the window into your eyes. You tried shifting your stiff muscles and rolling them around a bit before fully sitting up. You looked around the unfamiliar bed you were in, along with the unfamiliar room. The room you were in was obviously in the Wayne manor from the luxorious architecture, but if it wasn't yours, then where were you?

"Finally awake I see."

You jumped at the sudden voice, snapping your head towards it. You felt your heart drop as you finally realized who's room it was.

Damien.

He stared at you from a chair on the side of the bed, legs crossed. He didn't say anything further, and just stared at you. It was unsettling, not because it was cold like it usually was, that you were used to, but this was just staring, like he was simply observing you.

And you hated it.

You shifting around uncomfortably before saying, "what happened?" You winced at the scoff he let out as he sat more upright, "you passed out, that's what." You just faintly recalled what he was talking about, just barely. Had you really? You swore that you got just enough sleep to be okay.

"Get some more sleep tonight, or else." You looked back towards him surprised. As if reading your mind he continued, "I really couldnt care less, but I don't need you doing that at school that's all." He was starting to leave before shifting back towards you, "also, get it together and leave as soon as possible."

And with that he left you alone in his room.

—

You were finally back in your own room, away from any prying eyes and finally able to do your work. You needed to go over ypur club activities, maybe do some homework, and finally get dinner. When was the last time you had eaten.

You looked over at your phone after hearing the notification, picking it up and checking who had texted you. It read,

Aryannn 💓

> Hey Y/N, do you wanna go to dinner with me and cody?? Ik, your soooo busy these days but pleasee? 😞🙏

you relaxed seeing who it was and let out a little chuckle. You missed hanging out outside of school with them, but you had work to do, and unfortunately it was due soon which meant you needed to get a jump on it.

"Just know that mama loves you no matter what, where, or who you are, okay?"

You paused and decided to do something different than your usual.

Sorry Aryan not ton|

Sorry Aryan no|

So|

Ofc!! I'll see you two soon, usual spot?|

you didn't need to see her response as you jumped out of your desk chair with a big smile on your face, maybe for once you could let loose and have fun, let yourself not be overtaken by the piles and piles of work you have to complete.

Breathing felt easier for some reason.

—

You walked down the long staircase skipping a few steps here and there with a pep in your step. You were excited to finally be able to see those two after- how long had it been? Well, if you couldn't even remember then it had for sure been too long.

You skipped down the stairs and right as you reached the end and started to make your way towards the front doors, you noticed a blur of red to your right. You did a double take before noticing Barbara, who was seemingly just standing there by the bottom of the stairs banister.

She looked at you and smiled, which wasn't out of the usual. You assumed it would end there like it typically did, but surprise surprise when she actually waltzed over towards you and blocked your path to the door.

She smiled at you and said in a soothing voice, "hey Y/N, doing okay?" That made you cautious. Why did she suddenly care if you were okay or not? Unless-

"Did Damien say something about me? Because if so I promise I'm fine." You blurted out to her. There's no other reason why she would suddenly care about you, or atleast not any that came to mind.

Her eyes widened an inch when you said that, before letting out a sigh and rubbing her forehead. "Straight to the point I see." She said plainly, "look I know you probably think your fine, but could you please go lay down? It's dangerous, and if you pass out, in Gotham of all places, you could get seriously hurt. Please?"

You hesitated for a moment before deciding, "I'm fine, alright? I'll just be out for a little, I'll be careful." She reached out for you as you passed by her before letting her arm fall back to her side as she let out another sigh.

As she watched you walk out through the doors and saw your figure fade into the distance before the doors shut, she pulled out her phone and dialed someone.

—

You strolled down the street arm in arm with Aryan, with Ethan looking in the shops by your side half listening in, half in his own world. You felt so relaxed, being here with them talking about school antidotes, teachers that were irritating as of recently, just catching up with eachother.

Despite the fact that you were originally supposed to get dinner with these two, you guys had been going from shop to shop looking as many things possible. Clothing, antiques, video games, comics, books, technology, home furniture, you name it. The one thing you loved about being with them was no matter what or where you were, you would always be laughing to the point of pain.

You felt so happy with them.

As you guys finally walked up to the restaurant, Aryan pulled Ethan to the front and started to push him in while following him. You were about to go in after them, but felt your heart spike as you saw something run in the corner of your eye. You snapped your head towards the street but saw no one there. Your eyes lingered on the alleyway, but decided against it since alleys were typically a call for death in Gotham.

Ethan pulling on your arm brought you back, so you shook it off and walked into the restraunt with your friends.

—

You had enjoyed dinner much more than you thought you would've. Dinner was fun, filled with stories dating from a week ago, to even a few years back, memories you treasured more than anything. You guys split the bill, grabbed takeout containers and piled on as much as you could before heading out.

You guys had parted, going your separate ways after a prolonged goodbye, one that must have lasted over half an hour. You were going your way, passing a few people here and there, but still feeling a twinge of unease. It felt as though you were being followed, and although you wanted to chalk it up to nothing more than being tired, in Gotham being followed was way more common than was typically normal.

You kept speeding up, hoping to get to your car quicker, praying to whatever God's there were that it wasn't all jacked up. How stupid were you to not only leave it who knows where at this time of night, but to walk alone? In Gotham of all places. You couldn't help but berate your past self as you speed walked through the streets.

Just as you turned a corner, you felt yourself bump into a tough chest. You fell back a little before being caught and pulled back up. You rubbed your head a bit, before looking up at them and seeing his worried look, "are you alright kid? Sorry I didn't see you."

It took you a few seconds of sifting through the vigilante names and pondering on it as to not get it wrong, "...Nightwing?" He immediately lit up as you said that, "yeah, the one and only!" His tone immediately became concerned, "should you be here right now? Gothams dangerous, you should be careful."

You just stared at him in question, why were so many people worried about you recently? But as to not give him any more reason to worry, you settled on, "Yeah, well I'm okay." you did a double take as your eyes settled on your car sitting in the parking lot behind him, and mentally did a victory dance. Thank you universe.

"Actually," you started as you tried to ease on by him, "my cars right over there, so I'll be heading off now since you probably have other people to save and whatnot. Bye!" You tried to walk past him quickly but the feeling of his hand snatching your wrist made it clear that this conversation wasn't done yet.

"Wait!" He winced after he had yelled that out, coming out louder than expected. He hesitated for a moment, before letting go of your wrist. "Just... please be safe, okay kiddo? You should be more aware of your surroundings and not goofing around with friends at this time of night."

You looked at him and tried to place exactly where you recognized his mannerisms from. Pushing it to the back of your mind, you simply smiled up at him, "of course! Thank you Nightwing." After saying your final piece sprinted back to your car before he could try anything else.

When you finally reached the car, you let out a sigh of relief. Finally you were in the car, and despite the fact you had a long drive back, you let yourself have this little victory. You looked back at the spot that Nightwing was standing in as he waved towards you with a smile on his face before disappearing in a flash.

You started up the car and looked at the screen to check the time.

10:47 PM

Despite how nervous and frankly a little creeped out you had felt before, Nightwing was right. Being out with friends so late in the streets of Gotham was the kind of stories you saw everyday on the news. If anything you-

You felt your heart drop when a thought came to mind.

How did he know you were with your friends?

taglist!! : @dhanyasri, @wizzerreblogs, @chericia, @daddyissuesehe, @darktrashpoetry, @dreamsarenicer, @shadowytravelerlover, @alliwantisadonut, @lemiko0, I wrote this on nothing but hopes, dreams and Tyler's 'like him' on loop for hours. ( ´△｀)

BTW I might start writing other batfam fics but I'm not dropping this!!!

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Tastes Like Sugar (Agnes x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Detective Agnes O'Connor is your favorite customer and you might be her favorite citizen.

Words: 3k

Warnings: Swearing

Tags: @sasheemo @buttercandy16 @chlondykebar @toomanylesbiancouples @midnight-lestrange @babybeeelle @dontsblameme

@alexusonfire, this one's for you!

The bell above your door rang out in the quiet morning. The sun was just peeking over the treeline, the air chilled outside. You perked up, pasting a smile on your face, ready to face the day. The first customer.

Depending on which Westview native was coming through the door would dictate how the rest of your day went.

“Gimme one of the chocolate ones.”

Agnes O’Connor. Your day was going to be a good one.

“Sure thing, detective,” you said, flashing her a genuine smile.

The acerbic detective was your favourite customer. You made no secret of it. Your smiles were hers as were your compliments. Her scowl, comforting in its familiarity, was a mainstay of your interaction. But every now and then you saw her lips quirk up and you’d glow with pride

“Busy day?” you asked, plucking one of the chocolate donuts from the display case.

“No more than usual,” she replied.

Her arms crossed over her chest and she was watching you with an intensity that made your heart beat quicken.

“It must get boring living in such a quiet town,” you said, “never thought about moving to the big city?”

“Plenty of crime here,” she replied.

You tucked the donut into a paper bag, ringing her up. Those assessing blue eyes swept over you. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you let her look, knowing all she’d see was someone dazzled by the big dog in town. No one was better than her. She had a reputation around town. Everyone knew the streets were so safe because of her.

“Not with you keeping us safe,” you said.

She pursed her lips but didn’t disagree. Her phone tapped against the card reader, the ding loud between you. You nudged the paper bag over to her.

“Have a good day, detective,” you said, looking at her from under lowered eyelashes.

She lingered for just a moment before she sniffed and turned away. The bell rang behind her as her back disappeared.

^

“Morning, detective.”

Her index finger tapped on the counter. You let your smile reach your eyes, the early mornings worth it when you got to see her. She perused the front case of baked goods, not even bothering to greet you with more than a raised eyebrow. You lent on the counter, grinning at her.

“It’s always nice seeing your smiling face in the morning,” you said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, looking up at you, less than impressed.

“Just that you brighten up the place,” you said.

She muttered something under her breath that you missed. You tilted your head, waiting for her to say something else. Blue eyes flicked up to you before down to the case again.

“Gimme a glazed,” she said.

“Sure thing, detective,” you said.

She crossed her arms over her chest, watching you pull one of the donuts free for her. The paper bag crinkled in your hand as you transferred the donut into it. Pushing it over the counter, you tucked your hair behind your ear. She pulled it over to herself with long fingered hands, making you bite down on your lower lip.

For just a moment, her eyes seemed to focus on your mouth. Then she was turning away.

“See you tomorrow morning, detective,” you called at her retreating back.

She raised a hand to you in a wave before the door shut behind her.

^

For the first time in ages, Agnes wasn’t the first customer you served that morning. A line had formed before the frowning face of your favourite customer entered the cafe. You kept twirling from the counter to the food cabinet to the drinks. You hadn’t worked that hard that early in a while but you kept your smile firmly in place.

“Are you always so bubbly in the morning?”

“Detective.” You brightened and she squinted at you, “I was worried I wasn’t going to see you this morning. Too busy sleeping in?”

“No time to sleep in. You know that,” she replied.

You perked up, bouncing on the balls of your feet. Her head cocked to the side, eyes sweeping over you like she was documenting every little thing you were doing. You let her, wondering what she was reading in you.

“Something sweet to start the morning off right?” you asked.

“What?” She blinked.

You nodded towards the display case. She froze before turning her eyes down to it.

“Gimme one of the powdered ones,” she said after a moment.

“Sugar for someone so sweet,” you said with a grin.

Her fingers brushed against yours as she took the paper bag from you. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip again as your heart beat double time. This time her gaze definitely dipped to your mouth. Heat coursed through your veins.

“See you tomorrow, detective,” you whispered, lowering your gaze.

“I like the blue. It’s pretty,” she said.

You glanced down at your blue dress, missing as she glanced over her shoulder to get one last look at you before disappearing into the morning mist.

^

“Detective, we have to stop meeting like this,” you said as she sauntered through the door.

“Not until I find a better donut place,” she said.

“You mean it’s not my sparkling personality that keeps you coming back?” you asked, pouting at her, “I’m hurt.”

“Deal with it,” she said but you could see the way her lips ticked up into a small smile.

“You keep treating me so badly and I’ll stop being so nice,” you said.

“I’d like to see you try.”

You let your eyes wander over her body, thinking about all the ways you could try being not so nice. All the ways you could be naughty with her. Your cheeks heated and you were the first to look away. Her chuckle was low, a raspy vibration in her chest. You shivered, eyes darting up to her again.

“What can I get you, detective?” you asked.

“Chocolate sprinkle,” she said without even looking, “it’s going to be a long day.”

“Nothing the great Detective O’Connor can’t handle, I’m sure,” you said.

You smiled softly, eyes meeting hers over the top of the counter. A scowl settled over her face but you didn’t let it deter you. You never did. You knew you were going to break through that tough exterior one day.

“There you go,” you said, pushing it over the counter.

“Thanks,” she said.

Her hand closed over it, fingers covering yours. Lingering, your gaze caught on hers, the moment stretching out. You wanted to live in it, for the moment never to be broken. It was the kind of moment you’d be thinking about long after she was gone.

She pulled her hand back, pursing her lips. You didn’t say anything, simply nodding to her as she stepped away from the counter. She lingered for another moment before she spun on her heels and stalked out of the cafe. The sigh that passed over your lips was dreamy.

“Can I get an oat milk latte?”

You blinked, turning your attention to the next customer.

“Sure thing!”

^

You were humming to yourself as you went through your opening ritual, getting the cafe ready for the morning rush. You weren’t paying as much attention as you should have, not hearing the bell above the door when it was shoved open.

“You weren’t here yesterday.”

“Shit.” You jumped, pressing your hand to your racing heart, “Agnes. We’re not open yet.”

“I don’t care,” she said, arms crossed over her chest, glaring at you.

“Okay, well, you’re going to have to wait for me to finish up before I can get you a donut,” you said.

“You weren’t here yesterday,” she repeated, hoisting one of the chairs off the table closest to you.

“Did you miss me, detective?” You flashed her an impish grin.

“That boy they had working,” she ground out through gritted teeth, “wouldn’t shut up.”

“I never shut up,” you laughed.

She grumbled something under her breath, slamming down another chair. You shook your head, sliding closer to her.

“Just admit it. You missed me,” you said, hip bumping against hers.

Her arm caught you around your waist, hand pressed to your hip. Though the fabric of your dress, her palm was burning. Your breath caught, turning your face towards her. She was close enough for you to feel her breath ghost over your skin, those blue eyes burning as they looked down at you.

“Where were you?” she asked, voice lowering into something that felt dangerous.

“It was my day off,” you replied, breathless as you stared into her eyes, “I was probably still in bed when you were here.”

Her gaze darkened and you shivered. She squeezed your hip before she released you.

“Don’t do that again,” she told you.

“What? Take a day off?” you laughed, “I think I’m allowed to do that.”

“Don’t,” she said.

“You really can’t get on without me, huh?”

Her fingers reached up, curling around the ends of your hair, giving it a tug. Your lips parted and her eyes flicked down to them. Your tongue ran along your lower lip, watching her gaze follow it.

“Chocolate donut, detective?” you asked.

Her hand fell to her side and you stepped away from her, winking at her over your shoulder. The paper bag crumpled in her hand when you passed it to her, knuckles grazing against one another.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, detective,” you whispered.

Her hand slid over your hip again, leaving you with fire running through your veins.

^_

“Fancy running into you here.”

Agnes shoved her aviators further up her nose, staring out at the crowd. Leaning against the wall in the shade, she stared out at the Westview crowd. You nudged her shoulder, standing beside her in an attempt to get out of the sun.

“I brought you something,” you said when you didn’t get a response.

“Is it a donut?” she asked, sounding less than impressed.

“Better,” you said, “lemonade.”

You held out one of the cool cups of lemonade you’d bought as you’d walked through the fair. You’d caught sight of her quickly, a brooding shadow on the outskirts of the town’s fun. There was something about her that always drew your eye, even in a crowd.

“You brought me lemonade?” she asked, still not looking towards you.

“Breakfast of champs,” you chirped.

“It’s not breakfast time,” she replied.

“Well, you didn’t come in for a donut so I know you haven’t had any today,” you said.

She sighed but took the cup from you. You grinned, watching her down the drink and crush the cup in her fist. It shouldn’t have made you feel hot, but the cool drink was a relief as you chugged it down. Her chuckle was filthy in your ear.

“So you’re keeping tabs on me now?” she asked.

“It’s not my fault you’ve become such an integral part of my day,” you said, “if I’m not allowed to take a day off then neither are you.”

“I’d hardly call this a day off,” she said.

“You don’t come by the cafe, it’s a day off from me,” you said, pouting at her.

“Am I not allowed a day off from you?” she asked.

“Nope.” You popped the p obnoxiously.

She humphed but didn’t disagree. When she shifted, her shoulder came to rest against yours, warmth seeping into your skin. You settled closer to her, watching the crowd.

“Sometimes I wonder what I’m still doing in a town like this,” you said, “and then the fair comes to town and I wonder how I could ever leave.”

“You thinking about leaving?” she asked, voice gruff.

You looked over, catching her watching you. Meeting her gaze you smiled.

“Not anymore,” you said.

“Why not?” she asked.

“I found something worth staying for.”

She didn’t say anything, but her shoulders seemed to relax. You pressed your shoulder more insistently against hers, turning back to watch the crowd. Her fingers brushed against the back of your hand.

Your head came to rest on her shoulder.

^

“Long time no see,” you chirped when Agnes came through the door.

Her smile was surprisingly free of irony and sarcasm. You brightened, our own smile taking over your face in response to hers. She lent on the counter, one elbow, looking at you from under hooded eyes.

“Best view in the town, right here,” she said.

“Flatterer.” But your cheeks heated.

“Gimme one of the chocolate sprinkles,” she said, “I want something sweet in my mouth.”

You opened your mouth but no words came out. She chuckled, reaching out to curl her finger around the bottom of your hair. She tugged until you shivered.

“Have I finally managed to shut you up?” she asked.

“No,” you squeaked.

“You sure?” she asked.

“Just the donut?” you asked in return.

“What else you got on offer?” she asked.

“Something sweeter.”

She tugged on the ends of your hair again before letting you go. Her smirk had your cheeks heating again but you wiggled your eyebrows. Her chuckle was warm and delicious, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Perhaps when my shift is done,” she said, “I’m sure you have plenty of suggestions of things I could taste.”

“Are you flirting with me, detective?” you asked, leaning over the counter, not able to stop yourself.

“That’s quite a serious charge,” she said.

“Enjoy your donut,” you said, sliding it across to her, “I hope it’s sweet enough for you.”

“I’m sure it will tide me over until I can find something sweeter to occupy my time with.”

She left you behind the counter breathless and throbbing with need and a full day’s work ahead of you. You cursed her very existence. And hoped she’d be back soon.

^

The door opened seconds after you’d flipped the sign. You laughed, stepping back, giving Agnes the room she needed to barrel into the cafe. Her hand caught yours, dragging you after her. You went easily, just enjoying the feeling of her palm against yours.

“Someone’s had a good day,” you said.

“Shut up,” she growled.

“Or not,” you muttered.

“Is anyone else here?” she asked.

“I’m the last one,” you replied.

“Good.”

She pushed open the door into the store room, not listening to your arguments about how she shouldn’t be back there, that if anyone found her you’d be in so much trouble. Your back was shoved into a shelf. The door closed with a click.

“Can I help you with something, detective?” you asked, smirking when she lent back against the door.

“I believe I was offered something sweeter than a donut,” she said, “I’ve come to collect.”

“You’re going to have to get a little closer. Might be hard to reach from all the way over there.”

Her hand landed on the shelf beside your head, leaning into your personal space. You tilted your chin up, lips parting. Blue eyes dragging down to them, darkening as they focused on your mouth. You waited, the moment stretching.

“Well?” you asked when you thought she was never going to move.

Her lips pressed to yours, cutting off any other words you might have wanted to say. When you’d imagined kissing her, in those late night fantasies and sunlit daydreams, it had never felt like this. You’d imagined her in all kinds of scenarios, soft and romantic, desperate and needy, hot and heavy, but this was so different.

The self possession she carried through daily life was really coming through. It was commanding, pressing you back against the shelves, digging into your spine. Your hands landed on her shoulders, fingers digging in, dragging her closer, opening under her. She growled, low in her throat, her hand grasping your hip as she slotted her leg between yours. Your hand curled around the back of her neck, holding her in place as you whimpered into her mouth. She nipped at your lower lip before her tongue soothed over it.

“Agnes,” you groaned, muffled against her mouth.

“Hush, hon,” she said, “I’m enjoying my sweet treat.”

You surrendered to her, letting her taste as deeply as she wanted. You clutched at her, wanting more of her. You’d been waiting so long for her you were hardly going to stop her now. Even if the shelving was digging into your back and you should be locking up the cafe and cleaning up. She surrounded you, giving you no chance to escape, as if you’d wanted that, crowding you more insistently against the shelf.

“Taste so fucking good,” she growled.

You arched against her, the whine coming from the back of your throat lost as she kissed you again. Dragging her closer, you pressed against her, feeling every one of her curves against yours. The noise she made was addictive, better than any sugar could be. Your hand slid up under the soft flannel shirt she had on, seeking out the warm skin you knew would be under there. Your nails scraped over her skin, the noise she made gratifying when she shoved you against the shelving harder. Her leg, still between yours, pressed against you until the throbbing heat felt like it would overwhelm you.

You whimpered when she pulled away. Her thumb ran along your lower lip, eyes dark and smouldering, but her lips were pulled up in a smirk. Your tongue flicked over the pad of her thumb. Her low chuckle was throaty, sending a shiver down your spine.

“You certainly know how to deliver on your promises,” she said.

“What do you mean?” you asked, breathless and desperate to get back to the kissing portion of the afternoon.

“I’ve never had anything as sweet as you,” she replied.

You could have melted right there.

“Do you want to get dinner?” you asked.

“Yes, hon. I do.”

You slid your arms around her neck, drawing her back to you. Your lips ghosted over hers, giggling when she tried to strain forward, wanting to press hers to yours.

“I need to lock up,” you whispered, keeping her just far enough that she couldn’t kiss you again.

“Hurry,” she groused, stepping back from you.

You hurried.

[moonlight-prose]

“please don’t make me say it if you aren’t going to say it back” with a desperately in love with joel reader would hit so much…

weaved around your finger like yarn

a/n: me writing for joel again?? this has sat in my inbox for over a year and i never meant to actually take this long with it. but i finally figured out how to write this concept. and now i am actually obsessed with the small world of softness i created for these two. this is yes jackson joel, but nothing bad happens ever to him because why would it? it's all fine right?

summary: he never made space in his life for love in the aftermath of destruction. the after of his life he once thought would extend past decades of gray hair, smile lines carved in around his mouth now set in frowns and sneers. but snowfall and alcohol blur the lines for both of you when winter comes to jackson.

word count: 1.6k+

pairing: joel miller x reader

warnings: not explicit, love confessions, heavy makeout sessions, alcohol consumption, tipsy joel, sad joel, laughter at the end of the world, hope.

He can't remember laughing until his stomach hurt. The ache that spilled into his chest, warming his insides with a sun like quality that left him shivering. He can't recall the feel of his cheeks pulled so wide the sensation became a phantom pain seconds after. He knows it happened. He can distinctly recall the jokes, the joy. But the laughter lingers like a ghost at the back of his mind—translucent and gray and distorted enough to feel false.

Alcohol simmers in his stomach with a rueful intent. A malignant aftermath that would hit him in a few hours after two months of attempted sobriety. Ellie insisted, he accepted. Easy enough to say. Difficult to follow through with.

He had his days where whiskey sounded better than the flavor of bacon Tommy would bring him in the early mornings. But the dismay in your eyes helped him hold off, regain his awareness of a world not yet shattered. For once in quite a long time...he finally lived. For you, for Ellie, for Sarah.

He lived to see his hair grow longer and the grays appear more frequently. To drink coffee in the mornings on a porch you were already settled on. To help you fix small things here and there in your cabin next door. He lived for your smile, the light in your eyes. The curve of your lips as they pulled up into bolstering peals of laughter—the furrow in your brow as you frowned from endless frustrations on long hard days.

Joel Miller lived to love you.

He existed to dig his heels in and wait shit out—it's what he was good at, what he knew how to do. But for you he relented quicker than ice on a hot asphalt driveway back home in Texas. His mind became sand that slipped through your giving hands—heart a fluttering mess that sang a tune he could never get right on the guitar stashed in his living room.

Days bloomed into weeks which grew into months. Eventually a year passed and what used to be difficult and awkward to be around people again, felt like breathing the fresh winter air. The jackets he managed to find hung on hooks by the door, a pair of heavy boots beside the small table Tommy crafted him.

The mornings were nice. When hot water hit ground coffee and the aroma plagued his kitchen for hours at a time. The evenings called you towards him—simple cooking skills shared in the confines of a home he pined for you to reside in.

Life was a sliver of peace he never imagined he'd get again. But the hole in his heart never faded, the pain still rang out sharp enough to have him clamping down on the inside of his cheek. And your smile made his stomach ache with a longing deep enough to scar.

Tommy told him to buck up and do something. Ellie called him a fucking idiot.

You...gave no indication you felt the same way. So silent and reserved he would remain.

Your feet slid on icy, fingers gripping tightly to his jacket with a yelp in a quick attempt to save yourself from slamming to the ground. Joel snickered loud and brash and a wash of embarrassment burned under frozen cheeks. Dragging you up, his arm looped tightly around your waist—hand pressed harsh and insistent to the small of your back. You swallowed the butterflies at the sight of his face flushed red—eyes shining from the effect of too much whiskey.

"We were bad tonight," you muttered, breath forming a cloud between your faces.

He grinned—skin buzzing at the close proximity of your form. "Only a little bit."

"You're not supposed to drink Joel."

Leaning in he traded his smile like a secret; you tucked it into your chest with a sharp breath. "I won't tell if you don't, darlin'."

"Joel..."

"C'mon. No one's gettin' in trouble here."

A blade pierced your heart brutally—spilling crimson along pale white snow. Even as Joel remained entirely unaware of how you clung to him. How your body called his name—your mind plagued with thoughts of his being, with images of his smile, with the sound of his raspy voice. He'd never know the way you cherished each moment with him. The mornings tucked away from an unruly world—the nights shared between friends who might one day be more.

Your teeth scraped along the cracked skin of your bottom lip, eyes cast up to the curl of his lips. The words sprang forth faster than you could drag them back. Your chest of secrets unlocked and bared to the man who drowned you in his small flecks of joy. Later you'd blame the alcohol. When the headache ravaged your head and an ache lingered between your thighs.

Later you'd comb over every small glance and breathy word.

"I like spending time with you Joel," you breathed, fingers toying with the front of his leather coat. "I like...um..."

The breath caught in his throat, gaze desperate to catch yours. "Yeah sugar?"

"It's a hard thing to say." Another cloud of your whiskey tinged breath filled the air.

"You can tell me anythin'. You know that right?" Even as hope flared bright and scorching through the width of his chest. "I'll listen."

Hesitation spilled into the night, your voice a soft whisper he barely caught. "Please don't make me say it if you aren't going to say it back."

Oh didn't you know?

Did you not see how his gaze dug beneath the layers of flesh and bone, of tendons and veins that clung to your form? Did you not understand he would take a bullet for you? That he'd bear the wound of a warrior's death to keep you alive? How could you not know that his love stuck to his tongue with a saccharine bitterness he swallowed down like the drugs he once took to numb his mind?

You healed pieces of his soul you never broke. A marred and fucked puzzle that was meant to find a home six feet underground. By his own hand no less. He was destined to die—born to suffer—yet you swathed him wool with the promise of a peaceful life.

A future etched by the hands of love.

"Say it," he pleaded, frozen hand cupping your cheek.

"It's more than just that." The breath you took shot adrenaline down his spine. "I like our mornings. I like our dinners and conversation. And even when you come into town with me. But I...I love..."

The glossy nature of your eyes created by unshed tears that pooled at your waterline dug the knife deep enough to meld it within his heart. You didn't know. You couldn't have. His silence, his hesitation, swallowed every emotion he might have told you—every secret uttered in the shadows of night that told only half his story.

He told you about Sarah. About their life together, about her smile. That in itself felt like a proclamation of love—a key to the heart he thought stopped beating long ago.

"I knew it would freak you out," you muttered, pulling away from his hold.

Only for him to panic. His hand gripped the back of your jacket, pushing you towards him hard enough for your feet to slip again. But your gasp was swallowed by the cold press of his mouth to yours. Lips chapped by the winter air slid against your parted mouth as you froze against his chest. Your hands hung listlessly at your sides. He kissed you tenderly, attempting to wake you from the spell of shock, but to no avail did it bring you back.

"'M sorry." His words were muffled against your chin, forehead pressed to yours and eyes squeezed shut. "I shouldn't have–"

The press of your fingers into his cheeks jolted him back—eyes wide as you dragged him back with a stifled moan. Your mouth found his tongue hot and wet along his bottom lip in a pleading motion he complied to instantly. Stepping forward he fell into you with a deep groan. One that echoed and vibrated right down to your stomach—one you savored with a lick along his back teeth.

Hands cupped your ass with an insistent need to mold you closer, fingers digging into the plush flesh he longed to bite and taste. You tasted like whiskey. You smelled like him. It made him dizzy with want, anxious to lead you back to his porch—to seat you on his kitchen counter in the mornings while the coffee went cold.

"Fuck I wanna take ya home sugar," he grunted, biting at your lower lip with a grin.

Your breathless reply made the hair stand on the back of his neck. "You can."

"No." He shook his head, stealing another kiss with a gritty moan. "Not tonight. 'M gonna do this proper."

"Proper," you smiled, tugging on the longer curls you refused to let him cut. "You're such an old man Miller."

The large breadth of his hand cupped your chin, pushing the cheeks he lightly bit into together. "Won't be sayin' that tomorrow when I ain't got all this fuckin' alcohol in me."

"Yeah?" The droop of your eyelids—the darkened iris now filled with lust—set his teeth on edge. His body hummed with a new buzz he craved since meeting you. "Prove it."

"Oh I will." He grinned sharply, licking his teeth like a wolf waiting to pounce. "Don't you worry 'bout that."

A glimmer in your eyes caught his attention, the grip on your face loosening. "You know I love you right darlin'?"

You smiled—big and bright—and Joel felt another piece of his soul set back into place. "I love you too Joel."

[kumkaniudaku]

Spoiled

Summary: Tensions boil over on the Thanksgiving trip to New Orleans.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3,060

Warnings: Smut (18+ content)

Previous: Sorry 2024

“Where’s Treece?” 

Terry couldn’t care less but entertained the question for his mother’s sake as he took the seat closest to the window at their reserved table for a late breakfast. 

“In the room pouting,” He grumbled with his annoyed glare focused solely on the breakfast menu. “She’ll be down eventually. Or not. I don’t know or care.”

Marvin chuckled over his mug of coffee. “I’m not all that convinced, son, but I’ll let you have it.” 

As much as they were lovers, Terry and Patrice were friends who bickered like siblings. Petty back and forths reared their ugly heads at inopportune moments, leading to heated, silent arguments. A refusal to raise their voices at each other out of respect resulted in hushed whispers and sarcastic jabs that were so ridiculous to those not involved that Terry’s parents often referred to them as live telenovelas. 

Their latest episode was the most trivial to date. 

Separate families stationed in conflicting parts of the country forced the newest Richmond couple to compromise on how they split their holiday schedule. With a family known for their culinary pursuits, Terry naturally claimed Thanksgiving for his side. Although she couldn’t bear the thought of missing her Nana’s fresh apple pie, Patrice compromised with the caveat that their New Year’s plans were neutral ground for them and them alone. Handshake and lip lock agreements set them on a path to plan for the final six weeks of the year. 

For all of his careful planning, Terry didn’t anticipate how his wife’s commitment to the pupils under her care would collide with his plans to spend extended time in New Orleans. 

“Baby, it’s just two days.” He explained to Patrice while he helped clear the table after dinner one evening. “I’ll get you on the first flight out Wednesday morning. Promise.” 

“I know, but still. I’m gonna miss you. We’re not apart that often.” 

“We’ll make it worth the wait once you get there.” 

Repeated promises to steal some alone time once reunited preceded quick kisses as Terry prepared to join his parents and siblings on a flight early Monday morning. But, once the sun set on their first day apart in months, loneliness and frustration set in for Patrice. Text messages slowed to a creep. Sparse voice notes attempted to fill the void left in their near-silent home. She wasn’t mad at Terry for enjoying time with his loved ones. She was pissed at herself for being so lovesick that her stomach churned. Sickening. This type of yearning was sickening.

Excitement took a backseat to unshakeable irritability on her solo flight to the Big Easy on Wednesday morning. No hugs, kisses, or meaningful conversation for 48 hours could send even the most solitary person over the edge. Terry sent messages in droves to share his excitement for her arrival and she fought the urge to snap back at him. His smiling face greeting her at the hotel’s front entrance briefly soothed her ire until the reality that they couldn’t shake his family’s company set in. 

Every private conversion came with an intrusion. Kisses meant to go further than a quick peck were interrupted before they could start. Attempts at sneaking away never came to fruition. Soon, Patrice’s sour attitude became Terry’s disposition. He knew his anger was misdirected, but couldn’t find the words to explain his annoyance. 

They didn’t speak before bed Wednesday night and barely looked at each other Thursday morning. One angry Richmond was enough. Two made everyone uncomfortable. 

“It’s time for breakfast, Treece.” What Terry intended as an innocent reminder came out as a gruff bark that he couldn’t take back before Patrice opened her mouth to respond. 

“I know! I can see the time!” 

“Then hurry up!” 

“Fuck it! I’ll eat by myself!” 

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

Their silly exchange ended with Terry tossing the second hotel key on the bed before he stomped out of the room, allowing the door to slam behind him. 

The moment replayed in his head as he scanned the menu for something they could share in case she made her way out of self-imposed solitary confinement. 

“Well, I hope she makes it down. I wanted her to try a few things,” DeeDee added, unaware that the entire conversation was pushing her son to his limits. “The French toast is something.” 

Terry rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, if you can get her off the third floor, do whatever you please.”

“She’s probably happy to have you out of her back pocket. My girl can’t catch a break,” Zorah teased. 

Zanah laughed and shook her head. “You haven’t seen Patrice. I swear she was trying to climb into his skin when the elevator doors opened last night. They’re equally insane.” 

“See what happens when you end up in grown folks’ business?” 

“Oh, please.” 

Zanah childishly stuck out her tongue and received a middle finger pulled out of his hoodie’s front pocket as a prize for her antics. 

“Stop it, you two.”

“I thought when y’all became adults all this shit would slow up,” Marvin groaned, shaking his head as his two stubborn children traded schoolyard insults just short of joking about each other’s mama. Movement in his periphery offered what he hoped was a change of pace. “Oh thank God. The guest of honor is here.”

Patrice offered a weak wave and smile upon her approach, hoping they couldn’t see the remnants of a frustrated cry on her face. Terry could, though. He flashed her a concerned look and she answered with eyes that begged him not to inquire further. A round of hugs and greetings sent her to the empty seat across from her husband. 

The friction between them was palpable. They didn’t extend each other the luxury of pet names and googly-eyed grins like they normally would. Time spent canoodling was replaced by stolen glances and tight-lipped requests to pass over utensils. 

DeeDee cleared her throat for their attention. “Um, hi. Mom checking in here. Is there a problem between you two that we should be aware of?” 

“No,” Patrice answered loud enough to eclipse whatever Terry attempted to share. “We’re fine. James is not feeling very affectionate this morning for reasons unknown, but we’re fine outside of that. Right, James? Just fine, huh?”

“Peachy. Nicole is throwing a tantrum over God knows what but Nicole refuses to say more than three words to me at a time, so, while I love Nicole, I will not spend my morning chasing her around because Nicole is not a child and can use her words.”

Terry’s rant came through gritted teeth, leaving him almost out of breath as he neared the end. 

Patrice couldn’t formulate a rebuttal despite wanting to take their spat to the next level. She could only hang on to the firmness in his tone, the words sounding more like a warning than an explanation for their distance. Terry caught the flicker of something mischievous in her eyes and how she slowly crossed her legs beneath the table before grazing her foot against his clothed calf. His frown faltered for a moment. An unspoken understanding was telepathically communicated.

Four sets of eyes stared back at the standoff in utter confusion. 

Zanah took a loud sip of water to snap them out of their trance. “Oh-kay. So, I was thinking about gettin’ this crawfish omelet. Daddy, you oughta get the quesadilla so I can get a piece of that and, Zo, you get the Benny.” 

“But I don’t wanna share my food with you.” 

“Zorah! We are twins. We share!”

Chatter about seafood dressing and late-night spades tournaments planned for the rest of the day swirled around Terry and Patrice as they maintained senseless anger, too committed to the misunderstanding to relent without feeling embarrassed. 

The quiet simmer of mixed emotions followed them after tabs were paid, cocktails were consumed, and the elevator lifting them to the third floor was emptied of spectating parties. Terry pretended to type into his phone while sneaking looks at the way Patrice’s ass sat up in her leggings. 

“You wanna talk when we get in or what?” 

Patrice turned to look over her shoulder. “We can.” Her eyes caught the slow lick of his bottom lip before flickering back up to find him already watching her. “If you want.” 

“Good. I’m tired of the attitude.” 

“Great because I’m tired of yours.”

Having a civil discussion became a background thought once the soft buzz and click of their room door put them seconds away from the privacy they so desperately craved. 

Terry covertly slid the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the outside handle before double-checking the deadbolt lock and metal latch. Patrice busied herself with the television remote, turning a rerun of CSI: Miami up to a reasonable volume. Just enough to drown out an explosive meeting of minds or bodies. 

“Ready?” Terry questioned as he pulled his hoodie up, then over his head to deposit it on the back of the nearby desk chair. “We only have an hour or so before we need to head out.” 

“I think we can settle this pretty quick. Don’t you?” 

“Depends. I got a lot to say.”

They watched each other step out of their shirts, socks, and pants, still pretending that some relationship chat was on the other side of their time together. 

Down to thin layers of underwear and insatiable desire, they met for skin-to-skin contact. Patrice set a pace that only Terry could match. Frantic hands gripped broad shoulders to hike one long leg around his waist. Heavy hands found a home beneath round ass for a full sensory experience. 

Patrice pulled away from a messy kiss for a deep enough breath to bark instructions at her phone for a 15-minute timer. The race was on. Friction would either bring a resolution or be why they found common ground. 

Words were hard to come by during a hungry heavy-petting period. Shared breaths and wandering hands communicated every need, peeling away the last barriers that kept them separated. Touch me like this. Kiss me there. I need you here. 

Soon, the itchy hotel carpet pressed into the delicate skin of Patrice’s knees while she looked up at a clenched jaw and flexed abs. She wanted to feel him grow to all of his glory inside her mouth, and he was happy to oblige her request. A fist full of knotless braids kept Terry feeling like he had control of the situation, though they both knew the truth. 

Gagging and gawking provided a filthy auditory masterpiece that he hoped to remember for as long as he lived. Curses meant as praise fueled her performance as she pressed crescent moons into his thighs to remain stable. Her lash extensions drooped under the weight of alligator tears. Her jaw ached from being stretched to capacity over and over. Her thighs burned from her kneeling position. None of the discomforts could deter her from the goal. 

Terry gently placed a warm palm on Patrice’s cheek, admiring her work with a hazy smile. “Missed me, huh?” he breathed out, earning a grin. 

“Mhmmm.”

“I missed you, too. Come here.”

“Missed” was an understatement. A flat-out lie. He was just as needy, just as excited to be inside her, just as ready to abandon demure social norms to unleash the lust and love brewing inside as she was. 

An indescribable pleasure emerged from using and being used. No holds barred. Unrestrained aside from muffled groans unleashed into crisp white pillowcases and skin slick with fresh sweat. 

Terry kept Patrice’s chest pressed into the bed with one hand splayed between her shoulder blades and the other tangled at her roots. She fisted the sheets to keep a grip on the bed and reality while her eyes went in and out of focus. An open mouth produced choked squeaks between sharp breaths. She listened to her name roll from her lover’s lips like a sonnet written just for her. 

He was close. His body tensed with every stroke. Sweet talk broke into throaty groans. Hips lost their rhythm as they sought deeper connection. It was a good angle, but Patrice knew it could be better. It had to get better. This had to be worth it. Who knew when they’d have the chance to fuck each other senseless in the city they made their first commitment to rekindle an almost forgotten flame?

“Let me see you,” Patrice moaned, her head turned just enough to get Terry’s attention. “Please. I wanna see your face.” 

Exhausted limbs shifted and reconnected at the head of the bed, dragging linens along with them. Patrice propped her body on one elbow to shorten the distance between their faces before pulling Terry into a kiss by the back of his head. He was equally tender and possessive, leading with full lips and a tongue eager to taste the remnants of juice and syrup left inside her mouth. 

Then came fingers. Patrice replaced her swollen lips with her middle and ring digits in search of lubrication for other pursuits. The dull ache between her legs needed concentrated attention to reach the promised land. Terry didn’t need further direction. He did as he was told with a gaze just playful enough to convey that he knew what was up. He couldn’t wait to witness what she had in store. 

Their foreheads pressed together as they focused on the slow, lazy circles Patrice drew on her pearl. Terry added his contribution according to her pace, drawing in and out so dazed that he wouldn’t have been able to repeat his name if prompted. 

His brow furrowed to match his effort. “Fuckin’ beautiful.” 

He meant his compliment for his wife though he spoke the words to the body responsible for his glee in the moment. She giggled and threw her head back like a cowgirl to enjoy the ride.

Terry readjusted his angle to chase her lips as a familiar tingle set in. His arms hooked one leg at the bend of her knee before pressing forward on one hand for leverage to drive faster. Harder. 

They were close again, each chasing an individual high harder and faster than before. 

Patrice tried to play innocent as her sultry voice egged him on with seemingly innocuous statements. “You’re so good to me, baby. What did I do to deserve you, hm?”

He tried to slow down, tried to prolong the moment despite his hips driving forward with more and more power. Patrice licked and kissed the shell of his ear to egg him on. 

“Don’t hold back, Terrence. I’m all yours.”

A whimper escaped past his lips before a simple concession speech. “Oh…fuck.”

An unraveling. Muffling broken words against lips curled into a triumphant smile, Terry came undone with his eyes clamped shut to see colors dance behind closed lids. Her orgasm crashing in wasn’t enough for Patrice to break eye contact. She stared back the entire time, mouth opened and eyes transfixed in a devious stare under low eyelids. She didn’t want to miss a moment of his chest heaving, arms tensing, and hips bucking to deliver her the perfect body high she could get without drugs. Earth-shattering, thigh-quaking releases had their place, no doubt. They could never replace the sensation of falling more in love with every electric shockwave brought forth by the love of her life. 

Terry floated back into reality feeling lightheaded, stress-free, and searching for sweet kisses to cap off filthy deeds. 

“Baby, you’re a real pain in my ass, you know that?” he joked before pressing three quick pecks to Patrice’s lips. “Spoiled and gorgeous.”

She giggled along with him. “If that’s true, why haven’t I been able to get rid of you yet.”

“Because I like you like that. You think I do all this for you to be normal?” 

Light laughter and yet another round of theme song guitar synths rang out as they disconnected and found rest cuddled atop crumpled sheets. Patrice shifted to place her chest on top of Terry’s and traced her index finger along his beautiful cheekbones. 

“We’re playing with fire, TJ. I know you got the notification about this week being risky.”

“Don’t act like I was the one throwing a tantrum this morning.” 

“A tantrum is strong, okay! A tiny meltdown, maybe.” The sudden ring of her long-forgotten alarm cut their laughter short and drew attention to the nightstand. “Right on time.” Patrice stretched across Terry to handle the distraction, drawing his physical attention as he caressed and dropped kisses along her hip. She came back to him and kissed both of his lips separately. “Sorry for being a bitch. I’m working on it.”

“Ask for what you want next time. It’s yours. I’m yours,” He answered as he pushed a few stray braids over her shoulder.

“Use my words?” 

“Use your words.”

“I need more kisses. Or I'll melt. You wouldn't let me melt, right?”

Amorous feelings were back on the rise as they shared a slow, relaxed kiss unfit for two people on a tight schedule. 

Patrice pulled a way first to nuzzle her nose against Terry’s. “D’you wanna shower with me? It’s okay if you don’t. I just…need to spend a little more time together.”

She was bashful, almost refusing to look him in the face as if asking him to bathe together was somehow more revealing than what they’d just shared. 

“Not too hot on the water, alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

Terry chuckled as another kiss and loose instructions sent Patrice on her way with a giddy hop in her step. He listened to her make arrangements in the bathroom while he made the room more like somewhere to sleep and not ground zero of a natural disaster. 

He placed clothes in neat stacks, straightened items that took a tumble in the heat of the moment and piled dirty sheets in the middle of their bed. When all was complete, he took a seat to contact the front desk. 

“Hey, could we get some fresh sheets later today? Room 335.” Patrice calling for him from the shower made him smile against the receiver. “Sure, extra towels too. Yes ma’am. I appreciate it.” 

Thank God for housekeeping. In one hour the room would return to pristine condition for another romp or relaxation. A night of good food and better drinks would decide their fate for them.

-------

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @hrlzy @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl @ariiijestertheklown @blyffe @tvchi @wabi-sabi1090 @blackmoonchilee

[darkmatilda]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you got used to running away from the consequences of your actions, but it turned out to be incredibly difficult when the consequences are your coworker and their name is spencer reid.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x fem!baureader, canon typical violence and topics, season 1/2 reid, GLASSES REID, queen elle greenaway herself, gideon being a little creep (as usual), reader clearly ovulating lmao, mention of a trauma connected with drowning, mention of one night stands of the reader, inspired by taylor swift song "the bolter", dominant reader (mostly), spencer being awkwardly sweet

𝐚/𝐧: i should be doing my history assigment now instead of writing another freaky long fic but here i am

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 10k

Fuck, you thought the moment you realized you’d woken up in someone’s arms.

Double fuck, you added as it dawned on you that this wasn’t some random guy you met at a club, the kind who’d bought you a drink, whose name you hadn’t even tried to remember, and whose life you could easily disappear from without a second thought. Instead, you were lying in the bed of a coworker—a teammate you saw almost every single day.

Triple fuck.

Maybe even quadruple, because of how much you liked it. That is, lying next to his bare skin. In a position where one of his arms was wrapped around your body, his face buried in your hair, in the curve of your neck. His breathing steady, occasionally tickling you. Pleasant. It was pleasant.

You were up to five fucks already, and you hadn’t even left the bed yet.

There was no doubt in your mind that you were going to do it. By the time Spencer Reid opened his gorgeous, chocolate-brown eyes, you’d already be gone. Long gone, behind the wheel of your car, speeding at the maximum legal limit with the window cracked open, despite the icy gusts of winter air rushing in.

You’d been perfecting this strategy for years. First, you’d lose yourself in strangers’ sheets with moans and gasps, only to slip away in the early morning, filled with a thrill even greater than what you’d felt just a few hours before. Why? A very good question. You wished you had the answer to it.

This situation shouldn’t have been an exception, though theoretically, it already was. After all, you’d never even considered doing this with people you knew so well. People you couldn’t just ghost without consequence. People you—leaning over to check the clock on the bedside table—were supposed to see again in less than an hour!

You rubbed your sleepy face with your hand, silently cursing yourself. If only you’d been drunk the night before. People dodge the consequences of far worse actions than having a sex with a coworker simply by blaming it on alcohol. But no—when all of this started, you’d been completely sober and fully aware. Incredibly turned on, it’s worth mentioning.

Before the memories of the previous night could start ambushing you, you scrambled out of the bed. First, of course, you had to untangle yourself from the mess of limbs—carefully, so as not to wake him. You gently moved his arm aside and adjusted the blanket over his hips. Where this sudden care and tenderness came from was yet another very interesting question.

Tiptoeing around the bedroom, you gathered your clothes. Your panties and bra you shamelessly clutched in one hand, intending to shove them into your jacket pocket later. Before heading for it, though, you paused for a brief moment in front of the bed, in front of the still-sleeping Reid.

The blanket, pushed low, revealed the upper half of his lean body—his prominent collarbones and the smooth, even tone of his delicious skin. His chest rose and fell steadily, his hand resting in the spot where you’d been lying just moments ago. As if you were still there.

What a shame it was only a one-time thing.

Some people, looking at his innocent appearance, had no idea how much he had to offer. Their loss, you thought, leaving the apartment on shaky legs, feeling soreness in most of the muscles in your body.  When you finally got inside the car and the wind began to cool your flushed face and cheeks, the guilt faded away. You didn’t feel as good as usual, your heart wasn’t racing, and the adrenaline wasn’t surging through your veins the way you craved. Strange. Did it have something to do with who your one-night lover was? You shook your head, trying not to dwell on it.

You’d had a really great time together that one night, but that was it. You were officially leaving it behind, forgetting it.

Just like you always did.

It wasn’t an exception, you told yourself, as you took a quick shower in your own apartment.

It wasn’t an exception, and the fact that you worked together didn’t change a thing.

It wasn’t an exception, you kept affirming, crossing the threshold of the office with still-damp hair and the buttons of your fitted black shirt unevenly fastened.

“Are we not greeting each other anymore?” someone’s question snapped you back to reality.

Lost in thought, you realized you’d passed your friend Elle’s desk without even nodding at her. She was sitting on the edge of it, arms crossed over her chest, her dark eyes seeming to pierce through your skull, sifting through your memories. She was sharp—sometimes, too sharp. With nothing more than a sly smile, she let you know she knew something was going on.

"Sorry. I'm still half asleep," you said, approaching her for a hug. You let out a chuckle. "Or maybe I'm completely asleep if I missed such a hot chick in my path."

Elle pushed you away by a finger’s length, her eyebrows raised in a challenge.

"You think you're gonna distract me with compliments? Better start talking—who's the guy?"

“What guy?” someone asked, surprisingly not you, but Derek, who stepped into the room with a massive cup of coffee, nearly dropping it as he tried to greet both of you. You loved the laid-back atmosphere of the early mornings at work, when you had a moment to chat about whatever. “Well, good morning, ladies. From the looks on your faces, I’m guessing you had a nice weekend?”

"From that huge cup of coffee, I’m guessing you did too, if you need that much caffeine. Partying on a Sunday night, you should be ashamed," you replied sarcastically, eyeing your coworker. 

His eyebrows shot up.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," he whistled.

"She's just trying to change the subject," Elle informed him. "I was just interrogating our little bolter. 

You rolled your eyes at hearing that nickname again. They’d started using it a while ago, as soon as they found out how you handled things with guys. There was nothing judgmental about it—they just really liked to tease you.

It took Morgan a moment to piece together what was going on. When he did, laughter burst from his lips.

"Is that why your hair is still wet? You left in such a rush you didn’t even have time to dry it?"

"She was afraid the sound of the hair dryer would wake the guy up," Elle snorted. "And, heaven forbid, they’d actually have to talk to each other."

“Oh, screw you both,” you muttered, aiming to act your age—in this case, by flipping them off. Before you could, Derek caught your hand, stopping you from spinning on your heel and stomping back to your desk.

“You know,” he said, suddenly a touch more serious, as if the question genuinely intrigued him, “I can’t help but wonder why you actually do it. For me, personally, waking up next to a lovely lady who made the night worthwhile is kind of the best part...”

"Are you asking about the psychological aspects behind it?" You raised an eyebrow. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Elle tilt her head slightly, clearly intrigued. "I don’t know. Something from childhood, probably. Everything stems from there, doesn’t it? Or maybe the reason is something else," you lowered your voice to a near conspiratorial whisper, leaning in closer to their faces as if about to reveal some great secret. "I simply enjoy it. As they say, you don’t pry into people’s bedrooms or wallets."

"That rule doesn’t apply to our friendship, sweetheart."

You chuckled at the remark; sometimes, you really did share a lot with each other. In any case, your response had nothing to do with modesty or shame on those topics. You chose to answer evasively because you didn’t feel like describing how addictive that feeling of escape was, how much control it seemed to give you. How your heart would race in those moments, and how all your fucking lives seemed to flash before your eyes then. 

It was sick, many people have already told you that. Still, you couldn't stop.

"Good morning, everyone." Suddenly, JJ burst in, clutching a briefcase the size of an encyclopedia under her arm. "Hotch wants to see us all in five minutes, we have a new case. You'll find out everything in a moment, but I’ll say right away that it looks like a little trip is in store. Bring warm jackets."

"Mercy, not another case from Alaska..." Morgan started, rolling his eyes.

"Not this time. By the way, has Reid already arrived?"

Elle glanced around and shrugged.

"I don’t see him. Besides, if he were here, he’d already be telling us everything about the weather conditions in Alaska."

"Strange," Derek muttered under his breath. "I can’t remember the last time he was late."

You fixed your gaze on your shoes, as if there was something fascinating about them.

"It’s not like him," JJ agreed, a little worried. "Maybe I should call him..."

"He’s definitely stuck in traffic," you interjected quickly, forcing yourself to sound casual, though you tensed up involuntarily. The thought of confronting Spencer slightly scared you, though you wouldn't admit it to yourself. "I’m almost 100% sure. Anyway, shouldn’t we be heading out?"

You changed the subject, nodding toward the exit with your chin. And then, by accident, you made eye contact with Elle.

Elle, who knew you better than anyone.

Elle, who always, always knew when you were lying or hiding something. And whose eyes widened when she realized.

Feeling the blood rush to your ears, you subtly shook your head, silently pleading for her not to speak. But she, to your horror, opened her mouth.

"You two, go ahead," she directed at Morgan and JJ. Then she fixed her intense, demanding gaze directly on you. "We’ll join you in a minute. I need to have a word with our girl, privately."

Barely were you alone when she exclaimed:

"Did you sleep with Reid?!"

"Goddammit, Elle, could you say it any louder?" you hissed, glancing toward the door where your colleagues had just disappeared moments ago.

"Why not? So, you had sex with Dr. Spencer Reid...!"

"FOR GOD'S SAKE..."

"...our genius boy and a member of the same team?!"

"I’m fucking sure even Strauss heard that in her office," you sighed. "But yes, I did it, I regret it, and most importantly, this has to stay between us. Not a word to Derek, JJ, or Penelope, understood?"

To your surprise, Elle burst into laughter and raised her hands in a defensive gesture.

"You know I wouldn’t tell anyone without your permission. I was just playing around Anyway..." she sighed. "I find it hard to believe. You two? Honestly, there’s always been something between you…”

"No," you interrupted her sharply. The words left a ringing in your head. "There was nothing between us."

"So, you decided to sleep together just like that, out of boredom?"

"We need to go, Elle. The rest is probably waiting for us."

You moved forward, your friend trailing right behind you, like that little voice in the back of your mind urging you to order pizza at midnight.

"Oh, one more thing. You said you regret it. So, what, our genius didn’t meet your expectations..."

"End of discussion..."

"Last thing, you told me not to mention it to Garcia, Morgan, or JJ. What about Hotch? Can I tell him?"

You couldn’t keep up the seriousness any longer and burst into laughter, joined by Elle.

"Tell me what?" a voice called from behind you.

Fuck multiplied by twelve thousand seventy-nine.

Somehow, your boss appeared in the same hallway, probably heading to the same room where you were going to be briefed on your next case. You noticed how all the amusement disappeared from Elle’s face. You both exchanged a look, like teenagers caught smoking a cigarette by their parents.

You both turned, silently negotiating through eye contact—arguing, really, over who should speak up and save the situation. It fell to you.

"Um... we were wondering... if we should tell you... that we absolutely love your tie. It's so... red and... long..." It was only then that you noticed it was a gray tie. "Not that one. Another one. Absolutely stunning. And I’m actually looking for a birthday gift for a friend. He’s... a huge fan of... ties."

You tried not to look at Elle, fearing she might burst into laughter. She already seemed like she was suffocating inside. Improvisation was never your strong suit; you always had to say too much.

"So, I hope you don’t mind me asking where you bought it. That’s exactly the kind of tie I’m looking for. Red..." You bit your tongue before you could say long again. "Good quality. One that you’d just want to untie..."

Hotch’s completely stoic expression didn’t help.

"Oh." Suddenly, you realized you hadn’t even greeted him. "Good morning, boss. Are you having a good day?"

"Average," he replied, completely ignoring your whole tie spiel.

Silence fell. Elle stared at the floor, and the corners of her mouth twitched dangerously.

"Let’s get to work," Hotch suggested, clearing his throat. He extended his hand, gesturing for you to go ahead. As soon as you turned, you squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment. "I got it from Hailey," he spoke to you in a quieter tone, opening the door to the room where the rest of the team was already gathered. "But if you really care, I can ask her where she bought it."

Sometimes you had a hard time figuring out if the guy was serious or just messing with you.

"I’d be greatly appreciative," you managed to say, quickly passing him and taking a seat at the long table.

You heard Elle whispering to Morgan something that started with "You won’t believe this…” and contained a combination of the words red, long, and untie.

Actually, saying that all the team members were inside wasn’t entirely true. One of them was missing.

"Reid’s late?" Penelope wondered, just as your gaze fell on his empty seat.

"Let’s start without him," Hotch decided. "This can’t wait. JJ?"

She handed out the case files to everyone and moved to the screen, where the most important details and photos related to the case were being displayed.  Before he could even say a word, a late Spencer burst into the room.

"Sorry, really, sorry..." he said frantically. "I know this never happens, but I overslept..."

He stopped mid-sentence as soon as his eyes met yours. It felt like he might as well have shouted, Hey, you know we had sex last night? and it would have been less suggestive. Or maybe it was just your inner paranoid voice talking.

"You could’ve informed us you’d be late," Hotch said.

Reid was still desperately trying to catch your eye, even though you were determinedly focusing on everything except him. It wasn’t until a moment later that he realized Hotch had said something to him, and he sighed in surprise, snapping back to reality.

"Oh... yeah, I should have. Definitely. Actually... I actually sent a message to y/n."

At that moment, all eyes turned to you. You furrowed your brow. There was no way he had written or called you — you would have heard it… which, of course, didn’t mean you would have replied. Your hand went to your pocket…

"I forgot my phone."

Only then did you look at Reid, your expression should have given him the message you intended. I left my phone at your place...

“I’ll look for it for you,” he offered. He immediately panicked, probably realizing that you'd rather keep your night together a secret. “I mean, I’ll help you look for it. If you want…”

“Reid, please, sit down,” Hotch stopped him from completely humiliating both of you. At that point, you had a burning desire to bang your head on the table. “And close the door.”

“Right…”

He followed the order and took a seat next to JJ, across from you, sending a small, uncertain smile. You didn’t react, your face remained unreadable, even irritated by how much he was giving away about what had happened between you.

Still, seeing his slightly wrinkled shirt, the same one he wore the previous evening when he opened the door for you, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander. Those small imperfections in the fabric were, of course, from how hastily you had removed it and tossed it to the floor, where it had stayed all night…

The first time you had met outside of work, as two ordinary friends and not colleagues, was a few weeks ago. You had to drop by his place in the evening to pick up some documents you needed for the next day at work.

“Thank god,” you sighed as the door opened. “Elle isn’t picking up at all. I have no idea what she’s doing or where she is, and I seriously need this. If I don’t bring it, I can pretty much say goodbye to BAU.”

Only then did you lift your gaze to the man standing in front of you, too absorbed in your panic over the missing papers to actually take a good look at him. One hand rested on the doorframe, dressed in a sweater vest with the collar of a shirt peeking out beneath it.

“I’m glad I could help,” he replied. Thin-framed glasses rested on his nose, which he only wore occasionally for work. It was a shame because they suited him well. “But I’m sure Hotch wouldn’t throw you out just for being one day late.”

“I’ve been putting it off for three weeks.”

“That definitely changes things. Are you coming in? I need to... check if I have everything. “I’m really sorry, but you actually called just a moment ago and I didn’t manage to…”

“Don’t worry about it,” you waved a hand reassuringly. “I should’ve reached out earlier and not bothered you at this hour. But since you’re inviting me, I’m coming in. I’ve never been to your place before.”

“You’re not bothering me at all,” he assured you as you both walked further into the apartment. The lighting was dim, creating a cozy and relaxed atmosphere.

You stopped in the living room when a familiar sound reached your ears—a melody you knew all too well. Without a second thought, you followed it to its source.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you huffed in surprise, coming to a halt in front of the glowing TV screen, its bright light cutting through the dim surroundings.

“What?” Spencer finally noticed you had wandered off and joined you a minute later. “Oh, sorry. I was watching it earlier and forgot to turn it off…”

“No!” You stopped him before he could reach for the remote. “Don’t you dare. History’s Mysteries is my favorite show.”

Spencer looked at you as though he expected you to burst into laughter any second and admit you were joking. But no, you genuinely, wholeheartedly loved that program. Especially the episodes about extraterrestrial life—deep down, you’d always been a bit of a nerd.

You crossed your arms over your chest, pretending to be annoyed.

“What?” you challenged, raising an eyebrow. “You think just because I’m hot, I can’t have any intellectual interests?”

He widened his eyes, shaking his head.

"Don't put those words in my mouth. I’d never say—or even think—something like that."

"That I’m hot?"

"No! What? I mean… I wouldn’t assume you couldn’t have intellectual interests just because you’re…"

"Hot," you finished for him, letting out a laugh. "Relax, Reid, I’m just messing with you. By the way, you have a really nice apartment. Honestly, I kind of expected, I don’t know, a lab or something."

"Well, so far, you’ve only seen the living room," he replied.

"And I'd love to see the rest of it," you announced, rocking slightly on your heels. "But I haven't seen this episode yet, and I'm very curious about what it's about."

You noticed him hesitate, clearly unsure how to respond.

"Unless, of course, you don’t want me to stay. Maybe you're expecting someone. A girl or a guy?"

"No, no, I’m not expecting anyone," he replied quickly, swallowing nervously. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—barely noticeable, but it was there. "You’re absolutely not bothering me. Actually, it’ll be... it’ll be nice to have you stay. But, um... the documents. I should—I'll go get those ready for you. Would you like something to drink?"

 "...Four bodies were retrieved from a hole in the ice of a completely frozen lake. All the victims were young girls, aged thirteen to nineteen and each of them was involved in prostitution."

You were brought back to reality by JJ's words. You felt someone's gaze on you, surprisingly not from the direction you had expected. It was Gideon, and you were sure he had noticed the strange tension between you and Spencer. That was likely the reason behind his scrutiny. You had always thought he was a solid guy, but at times, he scared you. He looked at people as if he could see their original sin, not just theirs, but also that of five generations back in their family.

You shuddered, but for another reason. The subject... frozen lake, bodies pulled out... even though so many years had passed, and you could barely remember the event, the chill still crept down your spine, and your heart raced like you were running away.

"Wait a minute," Derek said, furrowing his brow thoughtfully. "How thick could the ice be on that lake?"

"Given the current almost extreme temperatures, probably around 50 inches. That's thick enough for even cars to move safely on it," Reid explained without hesitation.

You sighed, trying to hide a fleeting smile. You just... sounded like a fetishist, but you couldn't deny that it was a little exciting when he did that. He delivered long, flawless explanations, all while looking genuinely fascinated by the topic. It didn't matter what you were talking about.

Elle raised an eyebrow. You decided to ignore her.

 “Doesn’t it make you wonder how he managed to cut a hole in the lake, in such thick ice, without anyone noticing?” Morgan continued.

 “Actually, he didn’t have to do it personally,” Reid replied again. He took off his glasses and thoughtfully turned them in his hands. “Under different weather conditions, we might consider that, but these were most likely holes made for other purposes. Fishing, mostly, but also to test if the ice can support vehicles, for example. The unsub could have simply shown up, discarded the body, and that’s it.”

You all started the discussion on the topic without your input. You should have stayed focused, but you couldn't help but keep glancing back at his long fingers, holding the glasses...his touch so delicate and skilled…

The door opened once again, just like every Sunday, when the two of you caught up on the weekly episode of the show. After you stayed over at his place once to watch it together, it simply became a tradition. An unspoken one.

With each meeting, you talked less and less about work. It was still kept in a purely friendly atmosphere—otherwise, you wouldn't have shown up. You weren't looking for a committed relationship, but lately, the usual physicality wasn't enough, and you needed a new conversation partner on a deeper level. The range of your topics was vast, from casual chatter to deep analyses of the content you watched (you could talk for hours about conspiracy theories), or serious yet comforting conversations about life and the world.

"Where's my pillow?" you asked, pointing to the spot on the left side of the couch where you always sat.

"I spilled coffee on it, by accident. It's in the laundry. Sorry."

"Did you really just apologize for taking your pillow from your own apartment?"

"Sorry, It’s just my thing”

You both burst out laughing, sitting side by side on the couch.

"I miss something to rest my head on," you complained after just a minute. "I’ve got neck pain from sleeping on the jet."

"So, you should definitely sleep on a flat surface," he teased. "See, I took the pillow out of concern for you."

"Ladies and gentlemen, Spencer Reid before you. The man who will always find a scientific reason to make your life harder. Maybe I should just sleep on a bed of nails instead of a mattress, huh?"

“I just suggested a slightly flatter surface! Where did the nails come from?”

“That’s the same to me. I need softness.”

Spencer shook his head.

“I can bring you a pillow from my bedroom.”

“The episode is starting.”

“I’ll be back in a second…”

“Oh, and then you’ll complain you can’t talk about the plot because you missed the first minute, and so much probably happened,” you stopped him from getting up, grabbing his wrist. “Sit. I’ll survive the neck pain. Or… or I’ll just lie down here.”

Saying this, you simply rested your head on his lap, settling comfortably on your side.

 “What did the autopsy reveal?” Elle asked. “Did the victims die from drowning, or were their bodies just dumped in the water with a different cause of death?”

You should have focused on the case at hand, but you couldn’t shake the discomfort this topic caused you. No wonder your thoughts kept straying to more pleasant places as you tried to distance yourself from it. Still, you read through the case files, knowing you had to stay focused to solve this. Lives depended on it.

“They were all alive when they were thrown into the water,” JJ said with tightly pressed lips. “And each of them suffered a heavy blow to the head.”

“That’s how he abducts them,” Derek summarized. “Knocks them unconscious with a strong hit. Maybe he pretends to be a client, and once they leave with him, he strikes.”

“The question is, why specifically the lake’s ice hole?” you mused, tapping your nails on the table in an anxious gesture. “Is it purely practical? Did he think it was the easiest place to dispose of the bodies?”

You couldn’t take your eyes off the photos of the drowning victims—it felt like self-inflicted torture. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Reid staring at you differently than before. Once, you’d told him a story about something that happened to you as a child, more like a casual anecdote than a heartfelt confession. Even so, you thought you saw some worry etched on his face.

For the first time since he walked through the door, you met his eyes directly, responding to his desperate attempts to catch your gaze. Surprised that you finally looked at him, he froze, his slightly parted lips emitting a short sound as if he wanted to say something but forgot what it was at the last second.

"No... I don't think so," he finally said, drawing out the syllables absentmindedly. The slight furrow in his brow suggested he was deep in thought. "Bathing in water symbolizes cleansing from sin in many religions, both physically and spiritually. For example, in Christianity, baptism washes away original sin. Prostitutes are often the targets of serial killers who believe they’re purging society in some way. Since we’ve ruled out a sexual motive, maybe this is where we should focus our attention."

"That’s a good lead," Hotch agreed, as the rest of the team considered the analysis in silence. "In that case, we’re likely dealing with a religious fanatic. Such perpetrators often believe they’re acting in the name of God or some higher good. Worse still, they see their actions as morally justified, which means they feel no remorse."

"And that, in turn, means they won’t stop killing until they’re caught," Gideon concluded.

"Then there will soon be another victim. We need to move now," your boss decided, quickly straightening his papers against the table before tucking them into his briefcase. "See you on the jet in fifteen minutes."

Throughout the meeting, you'd laid out the victims' photos in front of you, studying them closely. Preoccupied with gathering them up, you could hear everyone heading toward the door, convinced you'd been left alone in the room.

But when you looked up, you found yourself face-to-face with none other than Reid. Your breath hitched for a moment. You knew this confrontation was inevitable, but you'd worked so hard to push the thought of it away…

"Hey," he greeted with a small smile on his lips. He seemed almost excited about the conversation. "I just wanted…to ask how you're doing."

You shrugged, forcing indifference.

"Fine, I guess."

You finished sliding the photos back into the case file, closed it, and pressed it to your chest.

"We should get going. Hotch gave us fifteen minutes, but the sooner we leave, the better..."

"You don't even want to talk to me?" he asked unexpectedly, shaking his head slightly in genuine disbelief. He swallowed hard and added, "About last night?"

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment. You hated this—hated it with every fiber of your being. That awful moment when you had to tell someone you'd spent the night with that it didn’t mean anything to you, that you didn’t want to keep seeing them, let alone get involved. And it was so much worse this time. This wasn’t some random guy. This was Spencer—your friend, someone you genuinely cared about, whose friendship you couldn’t afford to lose, especially since you worked together.

Your body was conditioned to run, to escape. Waking up in someone else’s bed always signaled an immediate sprint to the finish line. But this time, it felt like you’d tripped over an untied shoelace barely a meter in.

"There’s nothing to talk about," you replied. The strange tension of being in the same room with him again, just the two of you in this small space—so much like last night—settled over you. "Actually, wait. There is. I think I left my phone at your place, though it might’ve fallen somewhere in the car. Could you look for it when we get back?"

He didn’t respond. You weren’t sure why, but you kept your gaze fixed anywhere but on him—his shirt, the space behind him, anything to avoid his eyes. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe you should look directly at him, let your words carry the weight they were supposed to.

Spencer suddenly let out a short, sharp laugh, filled with shock and maybe even… sarcasm?

"Did it really mean so little to you that you can't even look at me?"

You gave in and lifted your gaze. His head tilted slightly to the side, his brow furrowed. He looked somehow hurt even though hurt seemed too strong a word.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean how you disappeared this morning. I thought maybe you were in a rush or didn’t want to wake me, but when I got there, you barely even looked at me. Sorry—actually, you looked at me only once”

"What did you expect, that I’d throw myself at you and kiss you?"

"No, I expected that we’d talk about it like normal people."

"But there’s nothing to talk about. It happened, and that’s it. I don’t see any reason we should have to debate about it..."

Spencer wasn’t angry, like others might have been. He was simply stunned.

"I don’t understand this," he finally confessed, adjusting his glasses on his nose. It was as if they suddenly became a bother, so he adjusted them again, then, after a moment of hesitation, took them off. "Do you regret what happened?"

“No,” you answered quickly, it was the first honest thought that came to your mind. You pinched the bridge of your nose, unable to find the right words. “Well… I don’t regret it in the way you might think. It’s just… I’m not sure what you expect from me now. We spent one night together, it was amazing, but I don’t have anything more to offer you.”

“I don’t want you to offer me anything,” he said, irritation beginning to creep into his voice, though it didn’t seem to be directed at you. “The only thing I want is… to understand where we stand now. Look, we’ve been spending a lot of time together lately, I thought you liked me…”

“Because I do like you,” you interrupted him mid-sentence. "Let me be honest with you, Reid. I don’t do relationships. And just so you know, I don’t usually sleep with my friends either, but it happened, and I can’t undo it, nor would I want to. Because I enjoyed it, I like you, and I have a great time when I’m with you. And up until now, I’ve really enjoyed how things have been between us. I don’t want anything to change."

You summed up what had been weighing on your heart, hoping with all sincerity that he’d understand. Spencer leaned his hands on the back of an empty chair, turning his body slightly toward you.

"So," he said, letting out something between a chuckle and a pained sigh. "Maybe you shouldn’t have gone to bed with me."

"Listen, sex doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a physical act, it doesn’t affect our friendship in any way."

 "Do you really believe that?"

“Yes, I do,” you insisted stubbornly, refusing to let yourself even blink. Spencer turned his face toward you, looking for signs of a lie or uncertainty in your expression.

He wouldn’t have been able to find any, even if he tried with all his might. Because you were a brilliant actress. And it wasn’t that you hid your feelings so well. It was more that everything about you was so contradictory that it created a whole range of possible interpretations. And Spencer, with his deeply rooted need to hurt himself and test his own worth, chose to settle on the one that would guarantee him that.

“Well, good for you,” he finally replied, before leaving the room completely, not even turning back over his shoulder.

For a moment, you stood in silence, unable to identify what you were actually feeling. In truth, your earlier words had been honest. You cared about your friendship, the connection, the conversations, and the time spent together. But at the same time, you couldn’t deny that he simply attracted you. Just yesterday, you had convinced yourself it was probably just curiosity. Sometimes people wonder what it would be like to try something with a friend, they do it, and then all those similar thoughts fade away.

But was it the same for you two?

Your head and shoulders had been resting on his lap for a while, your cheek comfortably pressed against his thigh, and the glow of the TV occasionally lit up your focused face when something brighter appeared on the screen.

Spender seemed tense about the position for just a minute, then, for the next five, he was simply surprised. Although you focused your attention on the program, you could feel his gaze falling on your figure from time to time, stopping on it for a moment. After ten minutes, you were both lying comfortably, with mutual ease, and after an unknown amount of time, one of his hands was resting on your side.

Every now and then, you spoke to each other, exchanging short, often sarcastic comments about the episode. During one of these interactions, something caught your attention.

"Where are your glasses?" you asked. You turned onto your back, resting the back of your head on his lap instead of your temple and cheek.

You could look up at him from that amusing, lower perspective, from which everyone looks particularly unflattering. You smiled at his expression when he tilted his head to look at you.

"Oh, I have them here," he replied, lifting the glasses he must have set on the couch.

"But why aren’t you wearing them?" You could swear that when you started watching, they were on his nose. You had noticed because you really liked how he looked in them.

He shrugged.

"You’re straining your eyes. Put them on," you asked.

Spencer moved his hand as if he wanted to reach for them, but at the last moment, he hesitated.

"I... I don’t exactly like how I look in them," he finally confessed.

After those words, you stared at the ceiling for a moment, then pushed yourself up on your elbow, almost aggressively. His eyebrows shot up at that.

"You must be joking."

"What?"

"I said, you must be joking. You look great in them. They really suit you," you assured him, sitting up. "You know, when I was a teenager, I always wanted to wear glasses. I even envied the girls with poor eyesight."

"You know, I’m fully aware you’re saying this just to get me to wear them?"

"True, you got me. Did it work?"

"Not really."

You bit your lower lip, thoughtfully considering a certain idea.

"Okay, give them to me for a moment," you asked, extending your hand. "I’ll tell you something that will convince you to wear them. From now on, you’ll even sleep in them. Well, maybe especially sleep in them."

He tilted his head, trying for a moment to read your intentions from your face, but he couldn’t. He sighed and handed you the glasses.

"Don’t..."

"Don’t grab them by the lenses, I know that," you finished, rolling your eyes. "I’m not some animal."

With his glasses in hand, you changed your position on the couch, kneeling so that you were more or less facing each other.

"I’m waiting for your arguments," he said, his voice sly, to which you raised an eyebrow.

"Well, this will be an argument combined with a little presentation," you clarified. "Have you ever heard of the glasses theory?"

"Is that an actual concept in human psychology, or something you just made up? If it’s the latter, I’m afraid I haven’t”

Listen, it’s very simple, but you’d better focus on me," you demanded, ignoring his previous remark.

"I’m focused."

Indeed, he was. His gaze was fixed on you with such intensity and engagement, as if you were about to deliver a speech that could change the fate of the universe. Or maybe it just seemed that way because you were so close to each other.

"Forgive me for the unacademic language, Doctor, but I don’t like to complicate things too much. This theory says that with glasses, you can only look one of two ways: smart or hot."

Spencer had already chuckled, ready to jump in with a sarcastic comment, but you pressed your finger to his lips, moving even closer.

"Don’t interrupt me for now, I’m not done yet. This theory also says that your look in glasses will always be the opposite of your usual, everyday look. So, if without them you look like the typical intellectual who knows the meaning of every word in the dictionary, then in them…" You paused, tilting your head to the side. Up until now, your finger had been resting on his lips, which it had landed on by chance, but you couldn’t stop yourself from trailing it along his chin and jawline. He didn’t take his eyes off you, which only made it harder to stop. "In them, you look really, really attractive. Like, you know, sexually attractive”

You felt his chest rise. You felt it because one of your hands was resting on it as you sat on his lap, though you had no idea how you had ended up there. Spencer had been entirely focused on your face until now-on your speaking lips, not on how your bodies were positioned in relation to each other. He exhaled, loudly, far too loudly for comfort, the breath he'd been holding in. The sound escaped as you settled your full weight on his lap instead of just hovering above it.

“Do you really mean that?”

Yes, you wanted to respond briefly, right into his ear.

“That’s the theory. And I… I agree with it. I even have another example. You won’t deny that I’m hot, right? It’s just something people think when they see me. A statement of fact. So… when I put on glasses…” Saying this, you slid his glasses onto your own nose. Your entire field of vision blurred slightly, making it hard to see his reaction. You could only feel how his body responded..“Well? How do I look?”

He didn’t answer. His breathing grew deeper, his pulse quicker. You knew this because your hand, which had been exploring every corner of his face, had already made its way to his neck and decided to stay there for a while.

“Spencer,” you prompted, “I asked how I look.”

He lowered his head, the top of it brushing against your sternum, lingering there for a moment. When he straightened again, his eyes were in constant flux, like those of someone torn by too many desires at once.

“Smart,” he replied, his voice barely audible, the word catching in his throat. “Now you look really smart.”

You shifted higher on his lap, drawn to him by the pull of his voice.

“Smart,” you repeated with a laugh, your tone edging toward a whisper, slipping between the two of you and filling the small space like liquid poured into a vessel. “That confirms the theo—…”

You broke off when his lips finally surged toward yours, impatient and pushed to the very edge of restraint. His jaw pressed against yours, forcing your entire body to tilt back. You swayed on his lap, both of his hands falling tou your hips, his fingertips pressing firlmy into your skin to hold your body at the same place, right next to him, close, closer. 

The kiss, born of desperation, quickly transformed into the release of a long-hidden hunger shared by you both. It was equal on every level, matched in intensity and force.

In the midst of it all, you lost your breath, repeatedly pulling your lips away from his to gasp for air, only to reconnect moments later. One of those brief pauses drew a wretched, urging whimper from him.

It was around then that you felt the pressure, growing stronger against your core.

An involuntary smile spread across your lips, breaking the kiss, during which you briefly took control, tilting his neck back for better access. Pulling away by barely an inch, you managed to notice that his barely open eyelids were still fixed on your lips, glistening with saliva and flushed with desire.

“Spencer? What is it? “

After asking that question you pressed yourself to his hips, pointing to the obvious hardness. His eyes widened, as if all the previous actions had taken place far beyond his body, to which he had only just returned. He inhaled sharply, his fingers gripping your body firmly and decisively as if trying to slide you off his lap. Something in the intensity of his touch and his attempt to take control only made you cling to him more.

“Didn’t expect you to be that hard after a kiss, but maybe it’s my fault” You muttered a joke under your breath, your lips briefly marking the space along his jawline, chin, and finally his lips. In the meantime, while one of your hands remained firmly on his neck, the other decisively reached its target. Then, griped it through the fabric of his pants. His lips parted, b loout no sound came out; it seemed to have been swallowed by his surprise. “Do you want me to take care of it?”

Your hand remained still, waiting for an answer. At first, he was silent, focused on his own breathing, not looking at your face, which you found quite unsettling.

"Spencer, I want you to answer me."

When he hesitated again, you gently brushed your lips against the lobe of his ear. But before you could repeat your request, he unexpectedly pulled both of you to the side, positioning you beneath him.

You gasped, surprised by the shift in dynamics.

“I want this” he whimpered into your ear, covering it with his mouth along with the space around it. “I really, really want this, please…”

But was it the same for you two? 

You repeated the question in your mind and recalled how, arched like a bow, you placed the glasses on his face, wanting to see him wear them as he made you come. 

You stood there in the empty room, replaying that moment in your head, well aware that you should join the rest of the team, but not so sure about the answer 

*

"Please don’t tell me that those fifteen minutes when you were alone..."

"Disgusting, Elle, you’re just disgusting."

Your friend, sitting across from you on the jet, smiled as if you’d just given her a compliment. The rest of the team either engaged in conversation with each other or reviewed the case files once more, looking for new clues. Reid belonged to the latter group, though his absent expression didn’t suggest he was deep in thought about the case. But you made an effort not to look at him, feeling a bit guilty for how things had unfolded.

"What exactly did you tell him?"

"That I don’t date and I’m not looking for anything serious."

"You just told him that?"

"What was I supposed to do, draw him a picture?"

"It’s not about that, it’s just..." Elle hesitated, unsure of what she wanted to say. She didn’t seem as cheerful as before. "I guess you didn’t say it that directly, right? Don’t get me wrong, but it’s kind of... cruel."

Her gaze briefly shifted toward the subject of your conversation, looking concerned.

"Would you have come to that conclusion if it were any other guy you didn’t know?"

She sighed.

"Probably not, and that’s why I think I’m having some sort of moral crisis."

You fell into a bit of an unpleasant mood for the rest of the flight. Unsure of what else to do, you decided to think a bit about the case and the murders. You even came to a conclusion and were about to stand up to discuss it when it hit you that you wanted your conversation partner to be...Reid. You sighed and stopped halfway, not knowing if he was ready to talk to you again.

Soon enough, you arrived in the small town where the murders had taken place. Naturally, you headed straight to the site where the bodies were discovered. Bundled up in thick down jackets, the crunch of deep snow underfoot accompanied your every step. You busied yourself talking to the local police, deliberately keeping your distance from the lake. The vast expanse of frozen water seemed to glare at you, challenging and mocking, as though daring you to come and play. Every glance at the ice awakened an inexplicable urge to sprint to its center, to feel the chills coursing through your body and surrender to a reckless exhilaration.

Rain drummed against the bridge like a barrage of tiny bullets, sharp and unrelenting, as if determined to pierce straight through you. You stood huddled beneath an umbrella with Reid, but both of you were already soaked to the bone, shivering from the relentless cold.

“Where the hell are they?” you asked through chattering teeth.

As part of your investigation, you and Reid had been sent to a nearby high school to interview the teachers of a missing teenager. The rest of the team had been assigned different tasks, and someone was supposed to pick you up at the agreed-upon spot and time so you could regroup and share your findings. But the wait was dragging on far longer than expected.

“I’d just like to remind you that you laughed at me when I took this umbrella, saying there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky and it definitely wouldn’t rain,” Spencer remarked, switching the umbrella from his red, cold hand to the other one he had been keeping warm in his coat pocket.

You looked at him with envy. Your jacket didn’t even have pockets, and you started wondering why you’d even bought it in the first place.

“This is not the time to point fingers at me,” you retorted. “This is the time to make sure I don’t die of hypothermia. Come closer. And don’t stand so close to the railing.”

“We’re nearly two meters away from it,” he pointed out, but still followed your request and stepped forward. You took the opportunity to shove your hands into his coat pockets for even a momentary bit of warmth. His coat smelled like rain, and your nose accidentally brushed against it. Your hands touched his in one of the pockets.

“Jesus, it’s like touching an ice cube,” he muttered.

“You still have feeling in your hands?”

“Still do, but I’m afraid it’s only a matter of time,” he replied.

“They’ll freeze and have to be amputated. We’ll be the only two handless FBI agents. Hotch will never send us on an assignment together again,” you joked.

He chuckled softly and shifted the umbrella to his other hand once again. For a moment, you both stood in silence—him staring at the river flowing beneath the bridge, and you gazing toward the direction where you hoped your rescue would arrive.

“Can I ask you a question?” he broke the silence, looking down at you.

You were standing so close, your hands buried in his coat pockets, that you had to tilt your head back significantly to meet his gaze.

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Are you afraid of water?”

You stared at his face, taken aback by the question. His wet hair was plastered to his forehead, and for some inexplicable reason, you felt a sudden urge to push it back.

“Why do you ask?”

He shrugged.

“It’s just something I noticed today—though, of course, there’s a possibility I’m wrong. But we’ve been standing on this bridge for twenty minutes, and you haven’t looked down once. And you keep telling me to step away from the railing.”

“I’m just looking out for your safety, klutz,” you teased, lowering your gaze. He wasn’t wrong about the water, and it surprised you that he had even picked up on it.

“When I was six, I almost drowned in frigid water,” you admitted, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

Spencer’s brows furrowed with concern.

“At least, that’s what I’ve been told,” you added before he could say anything. “Apparently, my dad took me and my sisters to a lake to go ice skating. He used to go there as a kid with his siblings, and the ice was always thick enough that no one even considered it might break. But that was twenty years earlier. He didn’t account for climate change. The ice cracked right beneath me.”

“God,” he sighed. “You know… maybe it’s for the better that you don’t remember it. At least not exactly.”

 “Maybe. Apparently, I spent the next two weeks in the hospital with pneumonia, but I don’t have a single memory of that. Still, it doesn’t change the fact that I shudder at the mere sound of water.”

 “Your body must remember what your mind suppressed. But wait, didn’t you have to pass a swimming test to get into the FBI?”

 “I did. But it was in a pool, where the water was calm and not trying to kill me. Hey, do you see that car? Isn’t that for us?”

After a few hours, you began to appreciate living in a state where winters were mild. Your hands were even colder than they had been that time on the bridge, despite wearing leather gloves. The hood over your head muffled the sounds around you so much that the first time Hotch called your name, you didn’t even hear him. You only approached him when you noticed him waving in your direction.

Something in his expression made you quicken your pace.

“We have the unsub’s identity,” he said before you could open your mouth to ask what had happened.

The rest of the team had already gathered. Reid’s cheeks were red from the cold, and he wasn’t wearing his glasses. He wasn’t looking at you, so you avoided looking at him.

“What?” you blurted, surprised. “How?”

“He abducted another victim, but this time he wasn’t as careful, and one of the cameras caught him. Using the footage, Penelope tracked down his information. She also found out that he came from a very poor family, and his sister turned to prostitution at the age of fourteen to support both of them.”

“I don’t understand. Then why does he kill young girls, just like his sister, who sacrificed herself for their survival?” Elle asked, suddenly appearing behind you.

Her question echoed in your mind.

“He thinks that by drowning them in freezing water, he cleanses them of the sin of prostitution—a sin he believes was unjustly forced upon them because of poverty,” you said suddenly, the chill biting into your body far more sharply than before.

“The unsub might even think he’s doing them a favor,” Reid added, animated, picking up your line of thought. “That he’s their savior, granting them a departure free of that sin.”

His eyes met yours, a flicker of admiration glinting in them. But then, as if reminded of everything, he quickly looked away. You felt like sighing. So this is how every single one of your interactions was going to look from now on?

“We need to catch him before he drowns another victim. We don’t have much time; it’s getting dark,” Hotch issued commands quickly. “Gideon, me, JJ, and Elle will head to one lake, Morgan, Y/N, and…”

“I should go with you,” Reid interrupted. “Elle can go with Morgan, and…”

“This is not up for discussion,” Hotch replied in a firm tone, a flicker of surprise crossing not just his face but everyone’s. When it came to time, his decisions were final. You all knew that. "Go," He commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Before you knew it, you were in the speeding car. The tension and sense of mission always left you silent, focused, and most of all, determined.

“He’s here. Do you see him? He’s dragging her toward the hole in the ice!”

Throughout all of it, not once did it cross your mind—the obvious fact that you’d have to set foot on the frozen lake. Before you even had a chance to react or fully realize it, Reid unexpectedly grabbed your sleeve, pulling you toward him. He seemed surprised by his own action, his eyes darting with adrenaline across your face.

“The ice won’t break, do you understand?” he said, not letting go of your arm. “It’s thick enough that cars can drive on it. “It’s safe, trust me. And if you feel like you can’t do it, just stay behind,” 

His voice was surprisingly steady, offering a sense of comfort that you hadn’t expected. You listened, almost stunned, not just by the care in his advice, but also by the fact that he was even speaking to you at all.

You didn’t have time to respond or even nod; the car came to a stop, and every second counted. Somewhere deep inside, though, you felt a surge of gratitude for his gesture and words. Because as soon as you set foot on the ice, it was as though your senses vanished. All that mattered was the water—cold, sinister, and waiting for you deep beneath the blue surface.

Morgan and Reid moved ahead of you, with the latter turning his head over his shoulder. You saw it, even as the darkness quickly closed in around you.

“If you feel like you can’t do it, just stay behind,” echoed in your mind.

But you couldn’t just stand there and watch while the victim’s life was hanging by a thread. Focusing entirely on his words and voice, you moved forward, gripping your weapon tightly, yet with a steady hand.

And it was your shot, fired in a moment of desperate resolve, that brought the unsub down, giving Morgan the chance to catch the unconscious victim in his arms and rush her to the shore as quickly as possible.

You stood there, breathless, still holding the gun high, completely unaware of it until someone gently touched your hands, guiding them downward.

“It’s me,” Reid said quietly as you flinched. Only then did it start to sink in that you were standing on the ice. Your imagination began to feed you the feeling of the bone-chilling cold, the water pressing against your body with all its might. After all these years, still so vivid. You grabbed onto his arms tightly, your legs suddenly slipping beneath you. Why hadn’t they slipped before?

“Hey, careful. The ice is thick, remember? It won’t break,” he reassured you.

He held you tightly, offering you support as you both made your way to the shore, taking small, uncertain steps. You could barely breathe, let alone speak. Yet, a question loomed in your mind, one you were desperate to ask: why was he even still with you? Why hadn’t he just left you there, maybe for some internal satisfaction? 

Finally, you were on solid ground, no longer gripped by panic. Still, your breath was rapid, every cell in your body shaking in spasms, but not in that teasing, playful way it had when you played the role of the bolter. 

“Why did you do it?” you asked, still holding onto him like a lifeline. “I thought you were mad at me.”

Before answering, Reid studied you in silence for a moment.

“I could be furious with you, but I wouldn’t leave you there, alone and scared,” he said.

You opened your mouth, a warmth spreading across your chest, something that felt almost like a comforting embrace. But before you could say anything, the rest of the team reached you, with Elle hanging onto your shoulder, her voice full of concern as she asked how you were feeling.

In the darkness and the flood of emotions, his face blurred, along with the faces of the others. You closed your eyes for a moment, surrendering completely.

It was only then that you began to calm down, though it would take many hours before your hands stopped shaking.

*

You nervously paced around the office, two pairs of eyes watching you with clear amusement.

"Do you think he called me in because of that whole tie incident?" you asked, nervously biting one of your nails. "Shit, it’s definitely about that. It was so inappropriate, he’s probably going to fire me."

"Calm down," Derek said to you, the corner of his mouth constantly rising and falling. "First of all, if Hotch were going to fire you for every dumb thing that comes out of your mouth, you'd be gone after a week. Second of all, it probably has nothing to do with that. Knowing you, it’s probably some overdue paperwork..."

"You’re not helping," you said, raising a warning finger.

Elle’s laugh mixed with her yawn.

"God, I’m exhausted from this day. I’m out of here. Call me later and let me know what this was all about," she kissed your cheek as a farewell.

You briefly hugged her with one arm.

"Keep your fingers crossed," you asked them as they walked away.

Both of them raised their hands, making the gesture.

It was evening, and you had just returned to the office after closing the case. You had hoped to head home and sleep off all the emotions from the day, but then you found out that Hotch had called for you. And you had no idea why.

Before opening the door with his name on it, you crossed yourself in your mind.

"Listen, Hotch, about that tie, it was really just some messing around," you blurted out, before even fully stepping inside.

The man sitting at his desk raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t alone—across from him, in a chair, looking like a student called to the principal’s office for punishment, sat Spencer, looking just as confused as you felt.

"Did you want to see me now? Or did I mix up the time or the days...?"

"I wanted to see both of you," he replied, pointing to one of the two chairs next to Reid.

You exchanged a brief glance with your colleague. Since your last interaction on the frozen lake, neither of you had spoken a word, but the atmosphere wasn’t as tense as before. That didn’t, of course, mean that everything between you was back to normal.

"Listen, I’m just as exhausted as you, but I need to have this conversation with you now so we can resolve it as quickly as possible."

You shook your head in confusion.

"Resolve what?" Reid asked.

"Whatever happened between you two," Hotch started seriously, his gaze moving between your faces. "Any argument, I don’t care what it was about or how serious it is, it cannot affect your work or professional relationship in any way."

You couldn’t help it and let out a laugh. You imagined Elle’s expression on the other end of the phone when you’d tell her the real reason behind this summons…

 "Hotch, there was no argument," you assured him, maybe not entirely honestly, but in an attempt to wrap up this somewhat, let's be honest, embarrassing conversation as quickly as possible.

 Spencer nodded enthusiastically.

 "Absolutely none. Never."

 "I'm not blind or, as you’re both well aware, stupid," Hotch continued, his gaze shifting between you both. "I can see what's going on, and I’m telling you now—I don’t want any conflict in my team."

You let out a snort.

 "So what are you going to do?" you asked challengingly. "Force us to shake hands and make up? If we do that now, can we finally go home?"

 He met your gaze, his expression as stoic as ever, but you were certain—absolutely certain—that deep down, he was amused by it all. To your surprise, he suddenly stood up from his desk.

 "No, I'm going to do something more effective," he declared. "I'm leaving you two alone for ten minutes. No one leaves this office. When I come back, everything needs to be settled. Understood?"

"Isn’t this some sort of elementary school method of discipline?" Spencer asked, raising his eyebrows, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw that beneath his amused expression, there was also a hint of concern.

"Exactly how it sounds," you agreed, briefly meeting his gaze before shifting it to your boss with a pleading look. "You're not our father, Hotch. We're adults, stop treating us like children..."

His hand landed on the doorknob without a moment’s hesitation.

 "Then stop acting like children and talk to each other," he said, glancing at his watch. "I’ll be back in ten minutes."

You could’ve sworn there was a subtle smile playing on his face as he left.

 You watched his figure disappear in disbelief.

 And then, you turned to Spencer, who was already staring at you.

[short-honey-badger]

Think about it

Pairings: Shanks x Female Reader

Minishot Masterlist

Usually, the navy stood little chance against the Red-Haired Pirates, but today seemed to be full of bad luck. Already, Shanks had woken up late, which had pissed his wife off since he'd promised to be up early to spend some with her. You’d given him the cold shoulder since he’d woken up, leaving whenever he got near or pretending that you couldn’t hear him. By mid evening, Shanks had been fed up with just about everything when the navy had attacked them.

It wasn’t just anyone either, but Fujitora and his crew of powerful marines who could give the pirates a run for their money. The blind admiral usually wouldn’t have attacked them, preferring to save his crew from the wrath that Shanks could be known for, but it wasn’t just him. Fleet Admiral Sakazuki was with them as well, and he had ordered the attack the second he realized that Shanks was on the same island as they were.

Shanks knew that you could take care of yourself. You wouldn’t have made it so long on his crew if that hadn't been the case, Shanks’ love for you notwithstanding. But that didn’t mean that he didn’t worry about his wife during the battle. He was currently locked in a match with Akainu and couldn’t turn his attention away from the magma devil fruit user, not when the man didn’t care if the civilians around them stayed out of the way or not. Shanks knew that the quickest way for this battle to end was for he and his crew to get the hell out of dodge before the navy could call in for reinforcments.

He pulsed his haki, a signal for his crew to get back to the ship. Shanks blocked a hit from Sakazuki, his armament haki covering his sword, but that didn’t stop the splash of magma from raining down around him. He grit his teeth and pushed back against the Fleet Admiral, sending the older man flying back. Shanks turned and made his escape, jumping from rooftop to rooftop until he made it to the docks.

“Let’s go, people!” Shanks called and watched as he crew loaded up into the ship and got it ready to set sail. He followed what he thought was the last to board and stood at the edge of the ship as he watched the marines scramble to follow his crew. There are a few stragglers, and Shanks counted heads only to come up one short. He whipped around, recounting as fast as he could once more.

“Where’s my wife!?” the captain demanded when he caught sight of Benn. His first mate frowned and looked back towards the burning town. Shanks turned to stare as well, fear eating at his chest as he thought of the worst-case scenario. Sakazuki would stick his darling wife so far down Impel Down that Shanks would have to raise the entire prison to get her out.

It was then that he felt his wife’s haki pulse through the town, and he jumped from the ship, running as fast as he could back through the town to get to you. He finds his wife facing off with Fujitora and lunges forward, blocking the Admiral’s sword with his own just in time.

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” you snapped, and Shanks smiled a grin so feral that several marines behind Fujitora felt uneasy. You stared at your husband’s back, heart swimming with relief at the sight of him despite your anger at him from this morning.

“You know I’d never leave you behind, baby,” He cooed and had the audacity to turn his head and wink down at you. His wife delivers him an impressive scowl and picks herself back up, making a show of dusting off her backside. He pushes Fujitora back in a similar way he had Akainu and then swiftly turns to scoop you up in his arm and hold you close. You wrap your legs around him as he abandons the fight and races back to the ship.

“Does this mean you forgive me for sleeping in?” he quips, and you can’t help but laugh and clutch him tighter as he jumps from the docks and lands on the deck of the ship. You garb his cheeks and tug him in for a quick kiss before pulling away.

“I’ll think about it.”

[thedensworld]

Born Superhero | J.Ww

Genre: fluff, parent au!

Summary: Started as clueless father to superhero, watch how Wonwoo grow as a father... And a husband.

The pregnancy wasn’t an accident; it was simply... A little unexpected. Okay, very unexpected. You and Wonwoo had been married for only six months—still in the honeymoon phase, barely used to sharing closet space—when life threw you both a curveball.

Wonwoo was overseas on a business trip when he got the alarming call that you had passed out at work. The reassurances from friends didn’t help; his mind raced with every possibility, from exhaustion to something far worse. Before he knew it, he was on the earliest flight back, heart thudding as if it were trying to make its way home ahead of him.

When he finally walked through the door, ready to scold you for pushing yourself too hard, he was met with news that rendered him speechless: you were pregnant. He’d always imagined having kids... someday. But not when he was still trying to remember which side of the bed was "his."

His lips curled into a smile, the kind meant to comfort you as you nervously searched his face for a reaction. But inside? Oh, inside he was trembling so hard he half-expected an earthquake warning to pop up on the TV. Fatherhood. He was going to be a dad. The idea was thrilling, terrifying, and somehow as surreal as finding socks in the fridge.

"Well," he said, pulling you into his arms and trying not to sound like a man whose life just did a triple somersault, "I guess this explains why you kept craving pickles and ice cream together."

Wonwoo made it his mission to be your unwavering support system, even when a storm brewed behind his calm eyes. He bottled up the anxiety gnawing at him—the nagging questions about whether he’d be a good father, if he could handle the responsibility, or if he would ever stop feeling like a deer caught in the headlights of parenthood. He couldn’t bear the thought of adding his fears to your plate when you were already dealing with morning sickness that had you running to the bathroom at all hours, leg cramps that turned simple walks into wobbly adventures, and sleepless nights that left you both bleary-eyed.

So, he channeled every ounce of that anxious energy into action. He worked harder than ever, managing late nights and early mornings, making sure everything you could possibly need was taken care of—from prenatal vitamins to setting up the nursery with the precision of a man assembling a palace. Wonwoo learned to cook your favorite comfort meals, and when you suddenly decided the smell of his go-to cologne made you queasy, he switched brands without a word of complaint. He’d hold your hand through doctor appointments, his smile steady even as the “dad” word hovered in his mind like a flashing neon sign.

And when the big day came, Wonwoo felt time stop as he watched you, the love of his life, bring a new one into the world. All the fear, the endless late-night overthinking—it all melted away the moment he laid eyes on Jeon Rayi. The boy had his eyes, the same quiet intensity, and as he let out his first tiny wail, Wonwoo realized something: he was already a father, whether he felt ready or not.

As you cradled Rayi, exhausted but beaming, Wonwoo gently took his son into his arms. The weight was different than he expected, lighter but powerful, grounding him in a way he didn’t know he needed.

“Look at him,” you whispered, teary-eyed and smiling. “He’s your little twin.”

Wonwoo’s chest swelled with emotion as he looked down at Rayi, whose eyes were now blinking up at him as if to say, Gotcha, Dad.

One thing Wonwoo couldn’t quite shake from his mind was the moment before he first laid eyes on Rayi—the moment when you, exhausted and trembling, brought him into the world. He'd watched enough viral videos of husbands fainting in the delivery room to think he was prepared for anything. I’ll be fine, he’d told himself. But when it actually happened, when he saw you gripping the sides of the bed, your face etched with pain so raw it made his chest tighten, his whole body turned to stone. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, only stare wide-eyed as you endured each wave of agony.

Seeing you in pain, your body shaking as the delivery was finally declared successful, felt like a blow that rattled every nerve he had. All he wanted was to wrap you in his arms, to kiss away every tear and tell you a thousand times over how much he loved you. But he stood there, stunned and aching, until the first tiny cry of Rayi snapped him back to reality.

When the nurse placed Rayi in your arms, a hush fell over the room, broken only by your relieved sobs and the baby's soft whimpers. Wonwoo’s eyes misted as he took in the sight of you holding their son—this tiny, perfect reflection of him. The joy that filled him was almost overwhelming, a light so bright it nearly erased the memory of everything that had come before.

But later, when the room had quieted and it was just the three of you, Wonwoo sat by your side, gently brushing the hair from your damp forehead. His gaze flicked between you and Rayi, and a pained shadow passed over his eyes.

“Seeing you trembling after giving birth,” he whispered, voice hoarse and unsteady, “I don’t think we need more children. I can’t... I don’t want to see you in pain like that again.”

You looked up at him, exhaustion softening your features as you managed a small, tired smile. “Wonwoo, we’ll be okay. This little one is worth it,” you said, touching Rayi’s tiny fist as it clung to your finger.

He nodded, though the worry didn’t fully leave his expression. Deep inside, he knew you were right. Rayi was worth it. But the memory of your pain would be seared into his heart, a reminder of just how fiercely he loved you, and how deeply it shook him to see you hurt.

Wonwoo's journey as a first-time dad was filled with more surprises than he could have anticipated. In the first few weeks, he was as nervous as he had been the day Rayi was born, startled awake by every whimper and uncertain about every diaper change. He was meticulous to the point of being comical, triple-checking the swaddle and peeking into the crib every half hour to make sure Rayi was still breathing.

But as the months rolled on, something remarkable happened: Wonwoo began to relax into fatherhood. The once-trembling hands that struggled to button up tiny onesies became adept at cradling Rayi while half-asleep. He learned the art of the midnight bottle, perfecting a one-handed technique so he could hold Rayi close while warming up formula with the other. The exhaustion was bone-deep, but the sight of Rayi’s gummy smile each morning made every sleepless night worth it.

The two of you grew together as parents, finding comfort in the shared laughter and the quiet chaos of raising a newborn. Wonwoo discovered a new side of himself—one that sang silly songs at 3 a.m. just to keep Rayi from crying, that narrated mundane chores with animated voices as though he were performing on stage. His once measured, serious tone became playful and warm, especially when Rayi would respond with delighted giggles that made his heart swell.

There were moments of doubt, of course. Nights when Rayi was teething and inconsolable, when nothing seemed to work, and Wonwoo would feel the weight of his inadequacies creeping in. During those times, he’d find you both leaning on each other, whispering words of encouragement, your hands clasped in a silent promise that you were in this together. You’d remind him that parenting was messy, imperfect, and filled with trial and error, but that Rayi didn’t need perfection—he just needed love.

As Rayi grew from a newborn into a babbling infant, Wonwoo learned to celebrate the small milestones: the first time Rayi rolled over, the first tooth that peeked through his gums, and the first unsteady steps that had Wonwoo following close behind with arms outstretched, ready to catch him. Each new achievement was a moment of triumph not just for Rayi, but for Wonwoo too. Every smile, every laugh, every moment they shared felt like a victory, a reassurance that he was doing okay, that they were doing okay.

One evening, as the golden light of sunset streamed through the living room, Rayi toddled over with a wobbling gait, his chubby hands reaching out for his father. Wonwoo scooped him up, lifting him into the air and watching as Rayi squealed with joy. For a moment, all his early worries about fatherhood seemed like a distant memory. He met your eyes across the room, sharing a smile that spoke volumes about how far you’d both come.

“We did pretty well, didn’t we?” he said, more to himself, as Rayi wrapped his tiny arms around his neck in a triumphant hug.

“Yes, we did,” you replied, coming over to place a gentle hand on Wonwoo’s shoulder, leaning in to kiss Rayi’s soft cheek.

In that moment, as Rayi laughed between the two of you, Wonwoo knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, he was ready to face them—not alone, but with you and your little family, growing stronger and more full of love each day.

*

Wonwoo was out of the city for a schedule when his manager hurried toward him, phone in hand, urgency written all over his face. Wonwoo’s chest tightened. It had to be you calling. That was the compromise you both had made—only call when it was urgent. The same rule applied when he was home alone with Rayi, and you were out. If it could be handled without a call, texting was the way. But this was different. His manager wouldn’t rush over for a casual update.

“Y/N…” his manager muttered, handing him the phone. Wonwoo grabbed it immediately, putting it to his ear, his heart pounding.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, worry evident in his voice. He strained to hear past the slight static on the line, but then it hit him—Rayi’s cries, loud and unrelenting in the background.

“Rayi has a fever,” you said, your voice edged with panic. “He’s been crying nonstop for the past hour. I’m on my way to the hospital.”

Wonwoo’s breath hitched. Rayi was rarely sick. The thought of his son, usually so bright and energetic, being unwell made his stomach twist. “Where are you taking him?” he asked, biting his lip to steady his voice.

“Seoul University Hospital,” you replied, and he could hear the tremble in your voice, paired with Rayi’s cries from the backseat. “I couldn’t think of anywhere else...”

“You’re doing a great job,” Wonwoo interrupted gently, his tone firm and reassuring. “I’ll figure out how to leave early. Please, update me when you get there?”

You hummed in acknowledgment, your breaths uneven. “I will.”

“And drive safely,” he added, his voice softening despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside him.

The moment the call ended, Wonwoo sprang into action, explaining the situation to the managers and the members. The moment he mentioned Rayi’s fever, everyone rallied around him with understanding and support, urging him to leave immediately.

His manager didn’t waste a second, getting him into the car for the drive back to Seoul. On the way, Wonwoo stared out the window, fists clenched on his lap, running over every scenario in his head. You had mentioned in a text last night that Rayi was feeling warm, but neither of you had expected it to escalate this quickly.

Wonwoo stepped into the hospital, his pace bordering on a run. He hadn’t had time to change out of his work clothes, though he silently thanked his manager for packing a change of clothes in the car. Right now, none of that mattered. His only focus was reaching you and Rayi.

When he got to the room, his breath hitched. The sight of Rayi, lying pale and fragile in your arms with his tiny arm connected to an IV, shattered him. It was a stark contrast to the lively boy who usually filled the house with laughter. His heart broke into pieces.

“He just fell asleep,” you mouthed softly, careful not to disturb Rayi’s slumber.

Wonwoo nodded and immediately moved to sit beside you. His eyes stayed glued to his son as you gently laid Rayi down on the hospital bed, brushing a stray curl from his forehead before stepping away.

Without a word, Wonwoo stood and pulled you into his arms. His embrace was tight, as though holding you close could somehow erase the weight of the day. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner,” he whispered, his voice thick with guilt.

“Thank you for coming,” you murmured back, leaning into him.

He pulled back slightly, his hands resting on your shoulders as his eyes searched yours. He noticed the weariness etched into your features—the sleepless night, the worry, the stress of handling it all alone until he arrived. “How is he now?” he asked gently.

You let out a deep sigh. “The doctor said it’s likely a virus. They’re monitoring him, but his fever has come down.”

Relief flashed across Wonwoo’s face, though the worry in his eyes remained. He nodded, then pulled you into another hug, this one softer, his lips brushing against your hair. “You’re doing such an amazing job, love. Thank you for taking care of him.”

You smiled faintly against his chest, grateful for his words, even though the exhaustion still weighed heavily on you.

“You should rest now,” Wonwoo said, pulling back to look at you again. “I’ll stay with him and take care of everything tonight. You need sleep.”

But you shook your head, stubborn as always. “No, I can’t. I need to be here.”

Wonwoo sighed, but he didn’t push further. He knew better than to argue when you were this determined. Instead, he brought over a chair and sat beside you. That night, the two of you stayed awake together, taking turns checking Rayi’s temperature and watching his small chest rise and fall with each steady breath.

Every so often, Wonwoo would glance at you, catching the way your gaze softened as you looked at Rayi. In those moments, despite the exhaustion and worry, he felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude—for you, for Rayi, for the family you’d built together.

By the time the early morning light began creeping through the hospital curtains, you leaned your head against his shoulder, both of you too tired to talk but sharing an unspoken bond of love and determination. Whatever challenges lay ahead, you knew you’d face them together.

*

The hospital room was quiet except for the soft hum of medical equipment. After two long days of watching over Rayi, exhaustion had overtaken you and Wonwoo. Neither of you had gone home since that night, surviving on restless naps on the small couch by Rayi's bedside. Wonwoo tried to stay alert, but his body betrayed him, slipping into moments of sleep. Every time he woke, guilt would gnaw at him as he saw you still wide awake, your eyes fixed on Rayi, your motherly instinct unwilling to rest.

That morning, as sunlight filtered through the window, Wonwoo stirred and glanced at you. You were slowly getting up from the couch, your movements unsteady. He sat up quickly, alarmed as you swayed slightly, your hand gripping the armrest for support.

“Babe, are you okay?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. He moved to your side just as you nearly stumbled. Placing a hand on your forehead, his expression darkened. “You’re burning up. I think you have a fever.”

“Oh no,” you muttered under your breath, more annoyed with yourself than anything.

Wonwoo's hands gently cupped your face, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “Please rest, babe. You’ve been running on fumes, and Rayi wouldn’t want to see his mom pushing herself too hard.” His voice was soft but firm, and the concern in his eyes made your chest tighten.

You blinked rapidly, trying to hold back tears. His words hit too close to home, but you didn’t want to break down. Not now.

Unfortunately, your body didn’t give you much choice. By midday, your fever had worsened, leaving Wonwoo no option but to call his brother to watch over Rayi while he took you to the emergency room.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled weakly as you laid on the hospital bed, waiting for the test result.

“No,” Wonwoo said, shaking his head, his tone gentle but resolute. “I’m sorry. You’re sick because you’ve been taking care of Rayi and pushing yourself beyond your limit. I should’ve been better at taking care of you too.” He reached out, softly patting your head in an attempt to comfort you.

Your head throbbed, and the dizziness didn’t help. You couldn’t help but think about Rayi and how frustrating it must have been for him to endure the same symptoms. “This headache... I think I know why Rayi was so upset,” you murmured faintly, earning a sad chuckle from Wonwoo.

“Still hurts?” he asked, his hand tightening around yours. You nodded weakly, and his expression crumbled. He hated feeling helpless, but right now, all he could do was stay by your side, offering silent support.

When the test results finally came back, the doctor informed you that you were dehydrated and your body was too run-down to fight off the fever. “We’ll need to keep you for observation,” the doctor said.

Wonwoo nodded, his grip on your hand steady. “Do whatever it takes to make her better,” he said, his voice quiet but firm.

As the nurses prepared for your moving, he turned to you, brushing hair away from your face. “You’re going to rest now, okay? No arguments,” he whispered with a small, tired smile.

After hours of shuffling between emergency room and paperwork, Wonwoo finally managed to arrange for you and Rayi to share a private room. It was ironic, he thought, as he pushed the wheelchair carrying you to the room—both his loves were now patients, and he was playing the role of a full-time caregiver.

Rayi lay in his hospital bed, still hooked up to the IV, his tiny frame looking so much better than days ago under the blue blanket. You were wheeled to the second bed beside him, visibly exhausted but trying to stay strong.

Wonwoo helped you settle in, adjusting your pillow and tucking the blanket around you like you always did for Rayi. “There. Now I have both of you in my sight,” he said softly, sitting down between your beds with a sigh of relief.

You gave him a weak smile. “Not how I imagined our first family staycation.”

Wonwoo chuckled, though there was a hint of tiredness in his voice. “Yeah, I don’t think this is making it to our family scrapbook.” He reached out, holding your hand in one of his while keeping the other near Rayi’s bedside.

The days that followed were a blur of tending to both of you. Wonwoo quickly fell into a rhythm—feeding Rayi when he woke up crying, gently wiping your face with a cool cloth to keep your fever down, and running back and forth to fetch food or talk to doctors.

At one point, as you watched him juggling everything, you couldn’t help but smile. “You’re really something, Jeon Wonwoo. I didn’t think you had it in you to manage two patients.”

He looked at you, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose as he smiled back. “Turns out I’m pretty good at this dad-and-husband thing. But don’t get any ideas about a repeat performance.”

“Noted,” you said, laughing softly.

Rayi started to recover quickly, his fever subsiding by the second day. You could see him regaining his usual cheerfulness, even managing to giggle when Wonwoo made silly faces. But that didn’t stop Wonwoo from being extra cautious, checking on both of you every few minutes.

One evening, when Rayi was sound asleep, you watched Wonwoo nodding off in the chair between the two of you, his head tilted awkwardly. “Wonwoo,” you whispered, shaking his hand gently.

“Hm?” He jolted awake, rubbing his eyes and looking around.

“Go to the couch and sleep,” you said softly.

He shook his head. “I’m fine here. What if one of you needs me?”

You smiled, your heart swelling with gratitude. “We’re okay, Wonwoo. You’ve done so much already. Please rest.”

Reluctantly, he agreed, dragging himself to the small couch in the corner. As he lay there, his head resting on a folded jacket, he thought about how much this experience had changed him. He wasn’t just a husband or a dad anymore—he was part of a team, a family that needed him, and he wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world.

As you drifted off to sleep, with Rayi’s soft breathing filling the room, you glanced at Wonwoo one last time. Despite his exhaustion, there was a peaceful smile on his face, and you knew that in his quiet, unwavering way, he would always take care of both of you.

*

After six long days at the hospital, the "family staycation" was finally over. Wonwoo drove the three of you home, the car filled with a comfortable silence, broken only by Rayi's babbles from the backseat. The little boy had been released two days earlier, and during that time, Wonwoo had asked his parents to take care of him so you could recover without any distractions. Now, as the car pulled into the driveway, Rayi was buzzing with excitement to be home again—and to be with you.

The moment you stepped inside, Rayi nearly leaped into Wonwoo's arms, squealing with delight. “He really missed us,” Wonwoo said, his voice soft with affection.

“I think he missed the house more,” you teased as Rayi wiggled to be put down. The instant his feet touched the floor, he zoomed off on his walker, embarking on a grand tour of the house.

Wonwoo chuckled as he picked up the bags, watching Rayi disappear into the kitchen. “Guess he’s making sure everything’s still here.”

Meanwhile, you sank into the couch with a relieved sigh. Days of lying in a hospital bed had made you sluggish, and even standing for more than a few minutes felt like an Olympic feat. As much as you wanted to jump back into your routine, your body begged for more rest.

Wonwoo joined you on the couch, plopping down beside you with a contented groan. Together, you watched Rayi race around, his walker creating an amusing squeak with every step as he stopped to admire his favorite show playing on the TV.

“You know what…” Wonwoo said suddenly, his voice thoughtful.

“Hm?” you hummed, turning to him.

“The most cliché thing that would happen now is me falling sick,” he joked, leaning his head back and closing his eyes as though imagining the scenario.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You? No way. You’re strong. You won’t get sick.”

He nodded, pretending to agree, but the twinkle in his eye betrayed his skepticism. “Let’s hope you’re right,” he said with a grin.

But hope wasn’t enough.

A few days later, the doorbell rang, and you were greeted by a pile of fruit baskets and home-cooked meals from Wonwoo’s bandmates. Word had gotten out that Wonwoo had come down with a fever and couldn’t make it to the schedule.

You peeked into the living room where Wonwoo lay sprawled out on the couch, bundled in a blanket with a thermometer sticking out of his mouth. He groaned dramatically when he saw you holding the care packages.

“I told you it was going to happen,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by the blanket.

You stifled a laugh as you set the baskets down. “Guess you’re not as strong as I thought.”

“Hey, I fought off a virus and took care of two patients for a week,” he said, sitting up slightly to defend himself. “I deserve some slack.”

“You do,” you agreed, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “Now let me take care of you for a change.”

From the corner, Rayi giggled, pointing at his dad bundled up like a burrito. “Appa funny!” he chirped, and you couldn’t help but laugh along.

Despite his fever, Wonwoo smiled. Even in his weakened state, he knew moments like these were what made being a parent and a husband so worth it.

[carpkoinobori]

[⟢] cop car — karina x reader

[𖤐] 1/1 [please be aware this is all fiction! none of this is real and idols behavior is not accurately represented.]

song(s): cop car - mitski | no te pido mas - helenita vargas | de oro - la familia andre | la murga - willie colón | la cuchilla - las hermanas calle

summary: you grew up desperate and made your way to the top, even started working for DAS. but your first assignment shouldn’t have been this— they sent you to die. your body lived, though. you didnt.

pairing: patrón!karina x halcón!reader (also x teniente!giselle)

tags: angst, like horrible angst, toxic and I mean Very Toxic yuri, major character death, implied sexual content, this is DARK, set in 1970-90’s colombia, kind of ambiguous but happy ending? reader is lowk stupid and a bop

wc: 10.9k

cw: karina is horribly manipulative, cartels, guns, selling, making, and use of drugs, use of weapons, murder, bombs, death, etc. this is about the colombian cartel ok shit is fucked.

ex: before there’s any outrage I AM COLOMBIAN. all information is acquired through primary sources (ex: family who literally lived through it). most info will be accurate, but my family specifically lived in medellín, calí, and barranquilla. this is set in bogotá. apologies for any city-based in accuracies.

a/n: this is for you aettudae my #1 ❤️

1964, Cundinamarca, Colombia Local time: 1:00 A.M. Location: a small town in Soacha, Cundinamarca, Colombia Objective: . . .

You were born on the outskirts of the city. Bogotá, the capital— the inside was rich, used to be filled with tourists, big buildings and fancy cars. The outside was él pueblo, where you’d wake up at three in the morning, walk to the nearest bus stop, which was probably a few kilometers away, take the buses that never ran on time with the rest of the exhausted men and women heading to work— work for rich people that ran the city till nightfall, get on another bus, and walk a few kilometers home, every day, constantly, while getting paid barely enough to support your family.

That was if you didn’t get robbed, or blown up in the middle of the city, of course— political unrest stemming from La Violencia had made FARC, and the cartel had begun to ramp up production and organization, planting car bombs under public buses and cars. The country was rife with bombings and gang violence till the late 90’s.

But right now, it was in the very early morning.

You would be born in 1964 to a poor family living in Soacha, Cundinamarca, Colombia, right on the outskirts of Bogotá. Your mother would be killed in 1970. Your father would be killed en la cantina, at night, in 1972.

You had been working since 12, anyway. Being told of your pathetic father’s death by a police officer who clearly did not care was when it was decided— you would not die in this town. You would make a name for yourself.

You were right, of course. You did make a name for yourself— you took down one of the most prominent cartel leaders in the country.

Or, at least, that’s what the media thought.

LA VERDAD DE LO QUE PASÓ EN 1989. —————————————————————— THE TRUTH OF WHAT HAPPENED IN 1989.

1985, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 2:00 P.M. Location: Departamento Administrativo de Seguridad | Administrative Department of Security (DAS) HQ Objective: Enter the meeting

You made it into DAS at 21.

Really, it was probably just because the high-rank workers felt bad for you. They understood— a girl from the outer part near Bogotá, no parents— you just wanted to make the country better for people like you.

You were given small jobs like paperwork and editing documents, until now. They were calling you in for your first meeting. Despite your usually serious nature, you couldn’t help a bubble of excitement. You’d finally be able to help like you’d always wanted.

which is why it was confusing why everyone was so somber when you walked in.

“Good morning,” you greeted, taking a seat.

“Good morning, y/n,” replied the woman who headed the ground-team. All your coworkers around her looked solemn, and you stared at them all puzzled.

“Your first assignment will be to infiltrate a specific branch of the Bogotá cartel— we fear they might be working with either FARC or plan to merge with another faction, and they’re already quite dangerous as it is— we don’t need more of them,”

the room was silent. You knew what this was— your first year on the job with barely any training. They were sending you to die, just to get some information.

You sat up straight, squaring your shoulders. You would get the information to help your people. You would live.

“I understand,” you replied, with a nod, standing to collect your file.

The woman handing it to you leaned in, a pained look in her eyes “Perdón,”

1985, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 10:54 P.M. Location: Una cantina Objective: Scout an in to the “organization”

The woman in charge of the specific section of the widespread cartel that was causing so much destruction frequented a specific bar. You had been given her file— she was beautiful, with dark hair and pale skin, but she didn’t seem to be colombian. It didn’t really matter, to you— you weren’t here to ask her why she’d made these choices— you needed to infiltrate one of the largest cartels in Bogotá, on your first job.

you sighed, your head in your hands, the bartender giving you a cursory glance. The place was seedy, filled with alcoholics and sex-workers, as well as probable cartel members, which is why you were here.

You sat up, looking around. It was said Karina frequented this bar. You prayed she’d show up, making the sign of the cross.

God delivered— she walked in, with two other people you didn’t quite recognize— one had dark hair, as well, with big eyes, although her face was serious. The other was lithe, thin— her hair was shorter, and lighter in color, more similar to a brown.

You knew what you’d have to do to start getting information. It made you feel a little sick— a part of you, though, was grateful Karina was so beautiful. Her smile was cocky and smug, like that of someone who knew she was untouchable. She made conversation with her two accompanies, talking and laughing and drinking. You waited for an hour or so, so that she was now most definitely more than tipsy.

you walked over, wearing a short, tight black dress that let you fit the bill of another profession, looking at her through half lidded eyes.

another thing about the cartel. if they wanted a girl, they’d have her. The club was a dangerous place, the bar was a dangerous place— you’d seen a man get shot at a hamburger cart. The cartel was ruining the country.

you pushed down your sudden wave of resentment, focused on flirting with Karina. Her friend, the long haired girl, stared at you for a long time, scrutinizing. You wouldn’t know what that meant, for a while.

Karina grinned, tilting her head. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“I don’t see why not,” you smiled, voice practiced to be smooth and flirty. You didn’t drink, usually, but you needed the courage.

She handed you a shot of aguardiente. It was dry and burned your throat, but it was good. You made conversation. “What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” You smiled, putting a hand on her arm. “Seems a bit.. dirty,”

Karina smiled, predatorily, teeth glinting in the low yellowed light. “Just trying to relax. You don’t seem like the type of girl to frequent this place. Why are you here?” She asked back.

“Oh, just.. trying to have a little fun,” you replied, lowly, voice ghosting over her ear. She seemed to like that answer.

“Yeah? Why don’t you come home with me, then?”

Your smile widened, although your eyes with still half lidded, touches fleeting. You still played your part.

“I will,”

you ended up going home with Karina. It took months to get her to trust you, but you had finally managed to get her to let you start working. All it took was a sob-story, a fake name, and she allowed you to work in her jurisdiction.

and so began the first objective: names. You needed names.

1985, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 4:33 P.M. Location: currently, a safehouse for the cartel Objective: Find the key members of the cartel

Karina had a home, of course, a large one— you had seen parts of the inside many a time. Of course, they also had some warehouses where they kept goods, where some of the members could crash for a night. You usually stayed with Karina, following her orders.

Some of the members used fake names. You had managed to catch onto one— Ning Yizhou, or NingNing. It was kind of stupid to put part of your real name in your fake name, but plenty of members didn’t use false names at all. You supposed it was just because they didn’t have much to hide.

The name was quietly recorded into your notebook— in code, of course, specifically pigpen-cipher, although you mixed it in with a few different things, referencing dice code as well to make it more confusing— the members of the organization sometimes forgot to call out their chosen names for each other, slipping up. You didn’t mind, though, it made your life easier.

The group had a whole network across Bogotá, planning to move into Medellín, which you felt was not a good idea, but had said nothing.

at one point, Karina brought you all out to eat at a very nice restaurant. You had become a favorite of sorts, for her. She didn’t suspect a thing, thank god.

They began to make small talk, conversations imbued with remarks about the ‘business’, people causing problems, supply and demand, and those annoying Americans.

the waiter came, and everyone quieted.

”Una cerveza, porfa,” Karina was first.

“Dame un refresco, por favor,” Giselle.

You felt something.. off. Obviously, Giselle wasn’t colombian. None of these four women were. But they all learned Spanish here. None of them really spoke Spanish beforehand. Giselle was speaking very.. correctly. Or, at-least, not using slang from colombia. Had she learned Spanish in Mexico? Castellano? Was she part of another gang?

you hadn’t noticed it was your turn to order with all the thoughts running through your mind. You looked at the waiter, glancing at Giselle.

“Si me haces el favor, una gaseosa,”

Giselle didn’t seem fazed by it. but something was off about her. Something was very, very off.

“Karina,” you called, walking into her office. She seemed to be writing something down. Most likely something about funds or money. She did have people in the banks to clean her money for her, but she didn’t like others running her finances. Too much of a chance for embezzlement. A part of you liked she was smart with her business.

“Winter told me you called for me?” You murmured, leaning against the side of her desk, tilting your head, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Ah, yes,” she affirmed, turning in her chair to you. “I have a job I need you to complete. You’ll be going with Winter,” she informed. “It’s nothing that difficult. You’ll both be going on some runs. It’ll just be delivering a few.. products, to a contact. It’ll be a long drive, maybe a few hours. She’ll come get you at four in the morning, exactly,”

Your face stayed carefully blank, but you plastered a content smile onto it. “Of course, I’m glad to be of any help. Speaking of help, Karina, you seem a little stressed..” you smiled wider, voice imbued with a sultry tone.

Karina was honestly a bit foolish. Smart with money, bad with people. Perfect for you.

She still suspected nothing, you thought, as she kissed you, hungrily.

the night ended with her paperwork left unfinished, and you asleep in her bed.

Winter was probably not going to be happy.

Winter was waiting outside the room for you, arms crossed and leaning on the wall. You had dressed into something casual— just jeans and a shirt. You glanced over at her with a blank expression. “What do we need to deliver?”

She seemed to be thinking, before pushing off the wall, and beginning to walk. You followed.

“Guerrilla wants some weapons. We’re just there to deliver,” she muttered, cigarette hanging half out of her mouth, unlit. You made your way to the car, getting in the passenger, the supplies in the back. “It’ll be a long drive up the mountain. Let’s try not to get stopped, yeah?” She muttered, starting the ignition.

You drove in silence, for a bit. The humidity of the air was starting to get to you. You hated the heat.

Winter didn’t talk to you, much. You didn’t think she liked you. You were pretty sure it was because she believed you weren’t worthy to be in the gang— you were just Karina’s plaything.

you didn’t really care what she thought, though. You had a job to do.

after a few hours, you had made it sufficiently up the mountain to the trade-off point. You stepped out of the car.

It was still foggy, from the rain and the altitude. You almost felt a bit lightheaded— but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. The plants and mosquitos were certainly bothersome, but you said nothing. Helping Winter lug up all the weapons was definitely hard— you weren’t very strong. Winter stared at you in annoyance, mumbling curses, most likely about you, under her breath.

the trade off was successful, but then, yet again, you had to make your way down the mountain with duffel bags of money. It was heavy. Putting it away in the trunk was simple enough. You collapsed back into the passenger, wiping the sweat from your forehead. You felt gross.

“Why was that so heavy?” You muttered, under your breath. Winter closed the door of the driver’s side.

“It’s not that heavy, you’re just weak,” she spat, annoyed. “You made us take an extra half hour. You’re not efficient,” she continued.

“It’s hardly my fault, Winter! This was my first job, I don’t-”

“I don’t know why Karina thought it’d be a good idea to let you help, you’re absolutely shit at it,” she retorted, acidly. “The only thing you’re good at is being her whore,” she cursed, as a snide closing remark.

You turned to her as she drove. You may be making sacrifices to get information, but Winter had no idea what you were working towards. It was an insult to your pride. Yet, you couldn’t think of a retort.

“I’ll work harder,” you muttered. “I want to be useful,”

she scoffed, but at least you said you’d try. She still didn’t like you, though. “Face it, sweetheart,” she began. “You’re not cut out for this life,”

When you arrived back to the warehouse, Ningning spotted Winter before you. You were taking some of the bags out, but could still here from the inside.

“Kim Minjeong! What took you so long?” She chided.

Winter rolled her eyes with a scoff. “Quiet down, Ning. Karina’s toy isn’t supposed to know our names until she proves herself. And anyway, she’s nearly useless. She’s the reason I took longer,”

you obviously pretended not to hear as you hauled money bags inside.

Two names down. Two to go.

Giselle and Karina were two harder to find out then the other two. You were sure with enough time, Karina would tell you her real name. She seemed on the verge of it, anyway, with how much she wanted to hear it fall from your lips.

Giselle, though.. you had no contact with her. She was always off, managing distribution or making sure people stayed in line. You never saw her around much.

but slowly, you began to become part of the group. You mostly helped on small runs, with either Winter or Ning. Ning didn’t really care what name you called her, writing it off as semantics that didn’t matter. Winter, of course, took herself very seriously, so you continued to have to address her formally. She was such a pain, but honestly, you didn’t mind much.

what you had to focus on now, most of all, was getting Karina to trust you.

that came in the form of another run. Although this time, it went so, so wrong.

You were meant to drop off a shipment near Medellín. You didn’t think anything would happen, really— the mountains were a bit far out from Bogotá, and it was closer to the border anyway.

You had been given a gun. It was handed to you by Ning a few weeks prior, under the orders of Karina. You knew how to use one, and no one asked why.

the drive there was mostly silent. Winter still wasn’t very warm to you, yet, she didn’t hate you. You had begun to earn your place, and she respected the effort, if anything.

You drove, and the closer you got to the warehouse, the more dread washed into your bones. “Winter,” you called, under your breath. “I think we’re being watched,”

“We’ve been down this route a million times, y/n. We’re fine, no one would-”

a gunshot rang out through the silence.

It missed Winter by a centimeter, hitting the windshield. You cursed the fact these jeeps didn’t have roofs or side-door windows. Minjeong sped up, of course— if she braked they’d fire again. It was all a blur, from there. You got out of the car, your back against the corrugated metal of the drop off point’s doors. You stared around you, pointing at an old building. “There, Winter- it’s a-”

“Snipers,” she finished, eyes wide with panic. “Hijueputa! I fucking knew we should’ve stayed away from Medellín-”

“No fucking time for that, Winter, get down-”

bullets cut through the air. You dragged Winter behind the Jeep’s metal body, looking over it and shooting wherever the bullets rained from.

there was maybe three people, four, even. Winter focused on the right, you focused on the left. You only had a pistol on you, but luckily you had enough rounds. You aimed straight at one man’s head— it was a straight shot, and you saw the blood spew out from his forehead. It was a mess of blood and bits of brain as far as you could see, his body slumping over the sandbags where he was hiding. They turned red, quickly.

You peeked over the jeep, again, about to shoot the second man on the left when—

a sharp pain was felt in your right shoulder. The force of it sent you nearly falling back, but you caught yourself. You looked straight ahead.

the sniper.

You were panicking and filled with adrenaline— you set the gun on the other man, watching him rise slowly, and—

straight into the neck, blood rushed out of the wound, and you heard a disgusting gargling noise. Blood, in some areas, was highly pressurized— it would shoot out like a fountain.

Winter had managed to shoot the sniper, finally, which was a miracle considering the distance. Right now, you didn’t care about the logistics of how, all you knew was that this was a trap. More people were coming. “Winter, we have to go,” you demanded, looking over at her.

She was bleeding from her thigh and side. Fucking hell.

you shoved her into the passenger seat, ignoring the warmth you could feel trickling down your shoulder, the way it hurt to move your arm. You started the car, and drove straight out of there. You drove as fast as you could, making it back in just around two hours and a half. You had tied your jacket around Winter’s leg, and her own around her side, the other girl groaning in pain throughout the ride. “Ya, Winter, cállate!” You spat, stressed and frazzled. “You’re gonna be fine, you’re gonna be okay-” you continued, clenching your jaw to not scream from the burning in your shoulder.

When you made it back, you stumbled out of the car, glass shards all over the hood, opening the doors. “Ning,” you called, knowing she’d always be near, most likely cleaning some blood after an interrogation or packing some coke. “Ning, it was a trap- help, please, Winter got shot,” you continued, calling out desperately. Ning appeared a few seconds after, eyes wide, rushing to the car. She helped Winter inside, laying her on the couch. She had lost a bit of blood, but the bullet hadn’t hit a major artery. You knew the bullet shouldn’t have hit her heart, either. Ning looked at you, seriously. “Go get Karina. And Giselle,”

you did as told.

you rushed to Karina’s office, the older woman looking at you with a bored expression, gaze lingering on your shoulder.

She didn’t ask any questions, just raised an eyebrow. “It was a trap,” you replied, panting, ignoring your own bleeding shoulder. “Winter.. she needs- she needs a hospital,”

Karina looked unsurprised. “Oh, yes,” she replied, holding your gaze. “How unfortunate of an event,”

Her words were.. slow. Almost mocking or sarcastic— you didn’t have time to decipher what they meant. She brushed past you, making her way to Winter, calmly

“Ning, how bad is it?” She questioned, leaning over the other girl’s body. There was no hint of worry or concern on her face, just curiosity.

“Not fatal, but serious. It didn’t hit the femoral artery, but I suspect it either fracture or grazed her femur. For the side wound, I don’t think it hit anything major, maybe a rib, but no organs. Even so, she needs medical attention now, Karina— speaking of, where is Giselle?” She continued, exasperated and stressed.

“She should be on her way. She was coming back from a job, already. She should be here soon,” was Karina’s nonchalant reply.

you decided that she couldn’t really be waited on, and Karina was clearly unhelpful.

“Do you guys have an operating table? You know what— get me a table. Just get me a table,” you demanded, reaching for some surgical gloves.

They laid Winter on the table, turning on all the lights. You positioned a lamp right over her, and stared at the bullet wounds.

there were only 2. You could do this, you had been taught first aid. This couldn’t be that hard.

You began to clean the wounds with running alcohol and cotton balls, trying to wipe away the blood that wouldn’t stop, and clean the wounds. You had grabbed a pair of tweezers, planning on just yanking out the bullet yourself when Giselle slammed the doors open, staring at the scene in shock.

“What the fuck are you all doing?” She shrieked, rushing over and moving you away. “Do you have any surgical training at all? You could kill her!” She exclaimed.

“Well, you weren’t exactly coming very quickly,” you retorted, now insulted. “I’m sure it’s not that hard to remove a bullet, just take it out-”

“Are you an idiot?” She exclaimed, shocked. “Get out of the way, this is why I’m here. I’ll deal with this,”

she pushed you away, putting on her own pair of blue surgical gloves, and a mask. She moved the lamp to the wound on Winter’s chest, inspecting it. She took hold of the tweezers, cleaning the wound once again with an alcohol wipe— but there was no time for painkillers. She extracted the bullet carefully, holding Winter down so she wouldn’t squirm and hurt herself, followed by her stitching up the wound. It took around twenty minutes for the bullet hole to be stitched up.

she repeated the same process with the second, before cleaning the wounds, again, and beginning to wrap them with gauze. Winter looked pale, and in pain, but she tried to show no sign of it on her face. Once Giselle finished with her, she turned over to you.

“Sit,” she instructed, voice flat and providing no room for judgement.

Karina had shrugged, disappearing back to her office, while Ning had left to go help Winter, leaving you alone with Giselle. She removed your shirt, unclipping your bra with practiced ease, and inspecting the wound. It had started to really hurt, now, the adrenaline having worn off.

“Don’t you have painkillers?” You asked, petulantly.

“No,” she muttered back. “You can handle it. You’re part of a gang, now, there’s going to be pain,” she reminded, harshly.

She cleaned the wound with alcohol, a hiss leaving your mouth at the sting. Your breath hitched when the tweezers made their way into the wound on your shoulder, clenching your jaw in pain. Giselle looked at you, coldly. “Don’t scream,” were her final words before she removed the bullet, cleanly, in one piece.

you gasped in pain, breathing heavily as the wound began to bleed again. Giselle held your other shoulder, keeping you in place as she sewed it shut, cleaning it again, and wrapping it with gauze. “Fuck,” you hissed, wincing at the sting of alcohol.

“Stop squirming,” she growled, and it made you sit still, albeit breathing hard and cursing under your breath. She handed you two pills— painkillers— and a glass of water, after the fact.

“Don’t take baths, you’ll reopen the wound, make sure to shower. Someone will have to help you redress the wound and make sure it doesn’t get infected. Karina isn’t good with wounds, and Ning will handle Winter. I’ll keep an eye on you myself,” she muttered, and it felt more like a threat than anything.

you took the pills, drinking the water to wash them down.

you glanced over to her.

“What are you, a doctor?” You asked, curious albeit a bit sarcastic.

“Yes, technically, I am,” she responded back, flatly. “Worked in el campo for my residency, saw the Guerrilla, saw the way people were living— got into this business, just as it started. That’s all,” she finished, succinctly.

you felt like the story was too practiced. Too simple. You began to suspect that something was off with Giselle— something most definitely was. The way she was never with the rest of the group, her detachment, her strange accent— she was suspicious, and it occurred to you that if you could reveal whatever it was, you’d secure yourself a spot in the gang and officially cement your place, as well as weakening the structure and trust of the organization. It was perfect. This was a great chance, an amazing opportunity. You were sure to take it.

That is, of course, if everything went according to plan.

(It never did)

You couldn’t shake the feeling that Karina had something to do with this. She seemed so dismissive, so.. unimpressed. What was it? Why was she so cold?

You sat at the edge of Winter’s bed, the other girl listening to your ramblings and theories half-heartedly, dazed. Ning was leaning against the wall, the both of you speaking lowly, so as to not be heard.

“She was testing you,” Ningning informed, after mulling on it for a bit.

“What?” You blinked, the words like a shock to your system. “She sent one of her men— along with the newest recruit— into a trap, with only two pistols against a sniper and three other men, all to test.. no, why would she do that? She wouldn’t endanger her own members,” you dismissed, shaking your head.

“She would,” Ning informed, flatly. “Karina’s our boss, yes, we respect her. But she didn’t get to where she is by playing nice,” she reminded. “Karina will do whatever she has to do to ensure her business, first and foremost. That is what is the most important to her. Plus, the government has been far too close to us, lately,” Ning scoffed, shaking her head with her arms crossed. “She’s probably become more careful— which isn’t good if you’re new. You’re probably in for it,” The dark haired girl guessed, meeting your gaze. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we got dragged into it, too. We’re disposable. Just pawns in this game,” she continued, pushing off the wall and reaching the door, hand resting on the handle. “But I hope you make it out,” she added. “You’ve been helpful,” was her final compliment, before she exited.

You stared at your hands. You had thought— genuinely— that Karina was kind, maybe misunderstood. You really thought you were smarter than her.

you now realized that Karina was extremely intelligent. She didn’t care what sacrifices had to be made— she’d protect what was hers, what she’d built. Worst of all, she might even know you were an informant already, she might just be playing with you.

you had walked right into the lion’s den, without even knowing. All the while, you thought you were one step ahead, that you were in control.

your head fell to your hands, a choked sob leaving your body.

you were going to die here.

Every single one of you was going to die here.

1985, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 6:25 P.M. Location: currently, a safehouse for the cartel Objective: Find the key members of the cartel

it had been a week since the incident. Winter had given you her real name— Kim Minjeong. Why? She said you had earned it, after saving her life.

Things had been tense, to say the least. Ning was considerably angry with Karina, which the older girl did not like. Giselle had been speaking to Karina more often, yet, she was also out the same amount of time.

Minjeong had told you that there had been talk of working more closely with the guerrilla, and that information worried you. The guerrilla was already enough trouble on its own— with the resources from the cartel, it’d be a horrible force for the government.

It was early November, already, and Giselle had seemed beyond tense, pacing whenever you caught a glimpse of her in her room, always thinking to herself, it seemed.

she was changing your bandages, now, a distant look on her face. The movements were practiced, almost like she was working on autopilot.

“Hey,” you called. “Giselle,”

“What?” She responded, flatly. “What is it?”

“Why do you seem so mad lately?” Was your question. She kept a blank, annoyed look on her face. She continued to clean your wound, but eventually responded. “Nothing. Just some negotiations that have been going in circles for days, now. Don’t worry about it,” she dismissed, stepping back once she had finished, moving to get some gauze.

“Really?” You hummed. “Anything to do with the guerrilla?”

Giselle stared, clenching her jaw. She began to bandage you, but spoke lowly. “Don’t talk about them. You have no idea what they’re like. You shouldn’t know any of this, anyway. I’m sure Karina wouldn’t like that,” she added, dangerously.

After the events that transpired on your last run, you had grown wary of Karina. You tried not to make it obvious, but everyone could tell, and the girl delighted in it. She loved the power and control, of course. Her smile was unsettling.

you quieted, after that comment. Giselle finished bandaging you, stepping away. “Stay out of things that don’t concern you,” she advised, but took a second to add something on. “Don’t worry too much. I don’t think she’ll kill you,” Giselle paused, a smile blooming on her face, “Yet,” she added, walking out.

Not very comforting in the slightest, but you should figure out what you could while you were here. You sighed, laying back on the bed.

Giselle was definitely lying about something— you just needed to find out what.

The guerrilla had led a siege on el Palacio de Justicia. It lasted two days, with many deaths. You saw the current news on it, even contacted your people in DAS about it— they had strictly warned you not to unless information was found, but those were your people. They could’ve died.

Giselle watched the news over your shoulder, or listened to it while she fixed your bandages. Minjeong had been getting better, too, her leg much better. Ning watched as well, her arms crossed.

Karina didn’t comment on it. Almost like she knew it would happen.

a suspicious amount of money was given to the guerilla by Karina a few weeks prior. You felt a shudder run through you, which Giselle responded to with a bark of “Stop squirming”.

later, Karina called you into her office.

“Y/n,” she smiled, tilting her head. “You seem.. on edge. May I ask why?” She was being overly formal, and it unsettled you.

“Ever since the attack, I keep feeling like it’ll happen again,” you began, rambling— it wasn’t a lie, per se, but it wasn’t the whole truth. The fear in your eyes and shakiness of your movement confirmed that, at least, it was partially true. “Im scared, that they’ll come here, and kill us. I don’t know what to do,”

Karina’s smile stayed in place, as she ushered you to sit down on the couch, there. “Don’t worry, corazón,” she assured, a hand running through your hair. You began to relax— maybe she wasn’t so scary, after all— It was understandable, maybe it wasn’t actually a test, maybe-

“As long as you’re loyal, nothing bad will happen to you,” she continued, hand tightening in your hair. “If you were to sell us out, then, you understand. I couldn’t promise your protection,” her hand strengthening its grip on your hair, speaking into your ear.

“Now, why don’t we get your mind off it?” She offered, looking into your eyes with a faux-sweet expression.

you complied, obviously. Despite the fear, there was a part of you that was drawn to her. She was threatening to kill you if you betrayed her, yet, you still kissed her, desperately.

she kissed back, of course, hungrily and heatedly.

That’s how most of the both of your talks ended, anyway.

1986, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 12:01 AM Location: una discoteca Objective: Find the key members of the cartel

It was 1986, now— had just turned into the new year. You were at a club, celebrating another year alive.

You had no idea where the other three girls went, thoroughly tipsy and entranced with Karina.

Karina was a bad person, you knew this. She was ruthless, and you should be scared of her.

but right now, with her hands on your hips, in the flashing lights of the club, you couldn’t quite remember that.

The two of you stumbled into the quieter, back parts of the club where there were rooms. Karina knew this place better than you, anyway.

it was still loud, and you could barely hear anything. She pressed you against the wall, tugging your hair, beginning to suck and bite at your neck.

she was most definitely drunk, you could tell by the flush to her face and how her words were looser than normal.

You knew you should’ve taken advantage of this, but you couldn’t. Your body felt hot, and instead of finding information, like you should have, you fell right back into Karina like a rat to a glue-trap.

you were pathetic.

and you knew it.

1986, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 2:23 AM Location: a safehouse for the cartel Objective: Find the key members of the cartel

Karina had called you into her office, except this time, Giselle was there.

You were beyond exhausted, but did not complain.

They were both intimidating. Giselle was staring at you, coldly, arms crossed, while Karina had an amused expression on her face, grinning, head tilted into her hand.

“Y/n, I have a job for you,” she called, in a cheery voice.

“It shouldn’t be too hard, but you’ll be working with Giselle from now on. It’ll be good for you,” she continued, standing up and walking towards you. “She’ll keep you safe— won’t you, Gigi?” She asked, almost mockingly, a saccharine expression in her face.

“You’ll have a body by the end of the day. That’s all you want her for, anyway,” Giselle retorted, irritated.

“How great! Come now, y/n, Giselle will explain,” Karina beckoned, quite happy today. Some expansion into the U.S. had gone well, you knew that much, but there was no reason she should be so.. animated.

Karina handed you a semiautomatic pistol, which you stared down at. She then smiled, handing you a small box of bullets. She still kept a smile on her face, remarking, “You know, these are special. They’re hollow point bullets— Ningning made them,”

“What? She made them?” You knew of hollow-point bullets, they weren’t a secret, just uncommon.

“Drill a hole into them, cut an X to make some petals, and there you have it— well, I’d ask Ningning, of course, I’m not a weapons specialist. It’s quite easy,”

“But why? They don’t-”

“Effectiveness. They leave a bigger exit wound, and leave shrapnel inside the body at times,” Giselle interrupted. “In other words, pain. They’re used to inflict pain,”

Karina smiled, sadistic as ever, as she watched Giselle load some rifles.

“Today, we have a few hits to get done,” Giselle informed. “You’ll be coming with me. You know how to shoot a rifle?” She asked, glancing over at your horrified expression.

“No, I-”

“What about a pistol?”

You nodded.

“Perfect!” Karina exclaimed. “You can help with the interrogation, then. Giselle, I’ll meet you at the location. Try not to dirty her too much, hm?” Karina advised, slinking away.

“That’s why she’s so happy?” You asked, in shock. “Because-”

“Because she gets to kill someone? Yeah, that’s why. She’s sick in the head. You knew what you were getting into,”

you stared at Giselle in silence. The other girl was grabbing some sniper-rifle that you had never seen before, and several rounds of ammunition.

she loaded it into the car, and you two began the drive.

you held the pistol in your hands shakily, silent for most of the ride.

once you got to the location, you watched Giselle pray. You had heard of hitmen praying before their job, and you still couldn’t understand. They prayed to God to protect them, yet, they were about to take a life.

“Why are you praying?” You asked, suddenly, acidly. “We’re about to kill people, God wouldn’t-”

“It’s my job,” she interrupted, which was a common occurrence with Giselle. “It’s my job, and I’m just asking Him to keep me alive until it’s over,” she spat, coolly. “You don’t know what I’ve had to do. But you will, soon. So just shut up, will you?” She got out of the car, slamming the door shut. You scrambled after her, and the both of you hauled the equipment up the boarded-up, run-down building, up several flights of stairs, finally beginning to set it up after a few stories, looking down at a busy road.

“Why are we killing him?” You murmured your question, watching as Giselle began to adjust the rifle.

“He owes Karina money, and he won’t pay it. He also stole some of our goods and has been cutting pure cocaine with some other shit, I didn’t really care enough to figure out what. His other friend is the one we’ll be interrogating. He’ll die no matter what he says,” Giselle shrugged, watching the empty street, the morning finally coming through the sky, although the dark, clouded sky blocked the bright sun.

“How long will we be here?”

“However long it takes,”

It turns out that “however long it takes” meant almost eight hours. You were bored to death, yet still terrified. You were about to kill someone. And you had been here, waiting on edge for it to happen, for almost eight hours. You felt like you were going to burst into tears.

“Giselle, how much longer is this gonna take?” You complained, although a bit shaky.

“Trust me, I don’t want to be here either,” she drawled. “But he should be here, soon. He works near here,”

It took maybe another half hour before he appeared. Giselle saw him before you did, obviously— you didn’t even know what he looked like— but she didn’t immediately shoot. Her eyes stared down at him through the scope, her fingers brushing against the trigger. He was wide open, walking slowly without a car in the world. He stopped for a second, someone crossing in front of him—

click.

you heard the gun go off before you looked down.

Giselle had shot him perfectly in the side of the head. You couldn’t see a lot, obviously, you were pretty high up, but you saw enough.

his body crumpled to the ground, immediately, blood pooling around him. People screamed, cars stopped, and they all were looking around frantically trying to find the shooter. Giselle moved the gun and herself away from the window, to the side where they weren’t visible.

“Come on, hurry up— we gotta go,” she urged.

“Hold on, won’t they see us step out of the building? Isn’t this a bad idea?”

“They won’t catch us, there’s too much chaos going down there. Now come on, let’s go,”

The drive to the warehouse was relatively silent.

Giselle was tense, but that wasn’t new. She always was. But she seemed almost.. solemn. Quiet.

you both arrived, stepping out of the car, into the meeting point. Giselle had her own pistol, you also kept yours on hand.

when you entered, there was a man tied there. Giselle tensed when she saw him, but said nothing. You figured it was because of Karina, standing behind him with the same placid, content smile. It was eerie.

“Giselle, Y/n! You’ve made it,” she smiled. “I take it the job went well?”

“It was all fine,” Giselle replied. “Nothing out of the ordinary happened,”

“That’s great, really, it’s good! I’m quite happy today, Y/n, because we have a special guest. I know I said he owed me money— in a way he does— but this is something far more important. He works with the Americans! Isn’t that just amazing?” She continued, happily, waving her gun around in the air as she spoke. “I’m sure we’ll get some good information out of him,”

“So, the both of you, come! Let’s begin,” Karina gestured to the man, in the dim lights.

you figured, well— the show must go on.

The man was tied to a chair, that much was obvious. The floor was concrete, and there were boarded up windows and maybe one or two hanging lightbulbs. It was a bit dark.

the walls were steel, corrugated iron, and it gave a prison-like feel. the man was looking around, wildly, straining against his restraints.

“Hey,” Karina called, walking closer to him.

“You’re going to tell me everything there is to know about those Americans, okay? And then I’ll let you go. As long as you don’t lie,” she assured, pausing. “Now talk,” she demanded.

“They’ve noticed the supply into their country. They’re working on stopping it. They’ve already sent a few agents to infiltrate a few different parts of the cartel—”

“Which ones?” Was her sharp, quick reply.

“Medellín, primarily, but they’ve been looking to Bogotá. I don’t know much more than that, I don’t even know who the agents are, I-”

“Ning!” Karina barked, the dark haired girl appearing out of the dark. She held a pistol in her hand, jaw clenched, staring up at Karina.. defiantly, almost. “Won’t you be a dear and deal with him, for me?”

Ning glanced to the man. His eyes widened, and he began to thrash. “No! I don’t know anything, I swear, I don’t know any agents! I don’t know anything!” He pleaded, desperately. Ning looked away, aiming the gun.

You heard a whispered ‘I’m sorry’, and she made the shot.

Through the head, perfectly center. Ning placed a hand over her mouth, the smell of blood biting and metallic, letting out a choked sob.

Karina looked over at Ning. “Now, Ning-ie, there’s a bus waiting for you outside. You’ll take that back to our meeting point, won’t you? So you won’t get caught?”

Ning nodded, wiping her eyes of tears. She went over to Giselle, they exchanged some words, hugged— she came over to you.

“Y/n.. I’m sorry. There’s no way to get you out, now. Be careful, don’t.. don’t trust anyone, don’t- just.. be careful, okay?” she advised, lowly, hugging you, still crying faintly.

“Ning, what- I don’t understand, why’re you acting like this?”

“You’ll tell Minjeong I’ll miss her, right? I wanted to say goodbye, properly, but.. I didn’t have time. I left a note,” she added, slipping it into your pocket inconspicuously, pulling away from the hug. “Give it to her, for me. You were fun to be around, I’ll miss you too. Don’t lose yourself, stay focused. It was nice to know you, y/n,”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll tell her- I’ll give it to her- Ning, why are you acting like this? What’s going on?”

Ning smiled, laughing wetly, still crying. “You’ll find out, later. You’ll find out..”

Karina walked Ning out of the warehouse. You and Giselle trailed behind, still a few paces away. The bus was parked right outside, filled with people.

Karina hugged Ning, whispered something to her which made Ning clench her fists and cry harder— you don’t know from what.

Ning got on the bus with a smile, crying— though you still didn’t know why— and waved goodbye.

You looked to Giselle, confused, watching the bus continue on, further down the street, already maybe a mile or two away from you. “What was that abou-”

your ears rang. You heard it before it registered.

the bus had exploded.

there was carnage, everywhere. Parts of it had been thrown into different buildings. There were body parts strewn across the street, a crater in the asphalt, fire, along the metal— cars had been crushed, it was now chaos in the streets. You had almost been pushed back from the force, nicking yourself with the small, sharp pieces of metal. Karina was still standing, her suit dusty and filled with ash.

“Karina, what- what did you do?” you cried, confused and distraught yet again, feeling the tears build in your eyes.

Karina cooed, crouching down over you, thumbing the skin under your eye. “Oh, mi amor, don’t cry,” she reassured. “Ning was working with the Americans. The man in the warehouse knew, and was helping her sneak information along our supply chain! Don’t worry, the traitor is gone,” she ran a hand through your now dirty hair, cleaning a cut on your face with her finger. She smiled, pressing a kiss to your cheek, speaking lowly into your ear.

“I’m tired of these Americans trying to ruin my business. They keep putting themselves where they don’t belong. Don’t worry, mi cielo, you’ll be safe as long as you’re loyal to me, and as long as you listen. I know you will. Because you’re trustworthy, aren’t you?” She smiled, looking down at you.

you nodded, dazed. Karina had just killed Ning. Ning was dead. You had to get out of here. You figured hundreds were injured. You had to leave.

Giselle was even farther back, looking at Karina with contempt.

you didn’t notice, though. You were too busy watching the flames dance in the street.

1987, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 9:46 P.M Location: a safehouse for the cartel Objective: Find the key members of the cartel

it had been almost a year since the incident.

ever since Ning died, things had been different. Minjeong had been quieter, and angrier. Everything set her off, she came back covered in blood most of the time. You didn’t want to ask where she’d been— you’d just sit with her, quietly. Sometimes you heard her cry at night.

Giselle had been even more cagey, always out, defensive, on high-alert constantly.

and Karina.. well, you’d been spending a lot of time with Karina. You knew she was bad, you did, but there was something about her. It was just something about her, something that drew you in, and you hated yourself for it.

like right now. You were in her office, again, as she kissed you hungrily, hands gripping your hips in a bruising grasp.

your mind drifted. You reported back to DAS every so often, but you did inform them that you had to be very careful, that your reports would be sporadic. Truthfully, they didn’t event think you’d make it this far, do they were okay with waiting. They seemed to have several informants, anyway.

”y/n,” Karina growled, lowly, sucking and biting harshly at your neck. “You seem distracted. Focus on me, no? You promised you’d help me..” she murmured, almost a pleading sound to her voice. You weren’t stupid, though. Karina didn’t beg, she didn’t plead. This was mocking. You sucked it up, though.

you tried to focus on her, you did, but everything was beginning to get to you. DAS weighed heavily on your mind, and Minjeong’s grief did, too, and Giselle’s odd behavior, her accent, even the way she dressed— she didn’t seem like she was from here. She didn’t seem like she’d been her a long while.

“Y/n,” Karina snapped, annoyed. “Focus, will you? Or maybe you’ll end up like that bastard traitor,” she remarked, acidly, far too much emotion for the situation. Karina had been angrier lately, too. It must be the stress of the betrayal. Surely that’s why— it shook her to her core that there was a rat in her ranks. She had gotten paranoid.

the mention of Ning made you emotional, though. You felt tears prick at your eyes.

she looked down, and let out a laugh. “Oh, I love when you cry, baby,” she grinned, voice rough. “It makes you look so good. But not right now.. maybe in a bit. Stop being such a pussy,” she instructed, to which you nodded shakily.

and like that is how your work went, for a bit.

it wasn’t until late 1988 everything began to change.

Karina had been busy, lately. A lot of men came to her office, ones you didn't recognize and some you did, vaguely, from other meetings.

Karina had been overtly paranoid about informants— It was a miracle she hadn't discovered you, yet— or maybe she had. Maybe she was just waiting for the right time, playing with you, maybe-

"Y/n!" She called, in a sing-song tone.

You entered her office, quietly.

"I need your help for another job. A big one. If you do this, then it'll officially make you a part of us! Isn't that fantastic, baby?"

Karina had her hands on your hips, the same practiced smile she always wore on her face.

"Yes.. fantastic, it really is," you replied, in a murmur. "But what will I be doing?"

"You know the DAS building, here, in Bogotá? Well, amor, we'll be getting rid of it,"

"rid of it?" You tried to school your expression, but the shock and horror was plainly visible on your face. You felt sick.

"Rid of it. As in, you know— the building. I have a few ways to make sure it stays gone for quite a while. It’ll take nearly a year, I predict, but it’ll get done. You’ll be going to a few meetings with Giselle and me to make sure you can help. Is that okay, y/n?” She asked, in a faux-concerned tone. You both knew she wasn’t asking whether or not you’d do it, you had to. It was a rhetorical question. You would say yes, either way.

“Yes. It’s.. it’s fine,” you murmured.

“Good. Now, you can go. I’m sure there’s something for you to do to make yourself useful around here,”

MEETING ONE 1988, Medellín, Colombia Local time: 4:52 P.M. Location: a small town up in the mountains; el campo Objective: Find the key members of the cartel.

Driving with Giselle was really not a good time. The songs on the radio were good, though.

the other girl was so frustrated, for some reason.

“Giselle,” you chanced. “I don’t mean to pry, but seriously— why are you so.. stressed?”

“We’re about to blow up Colombia’s national security headquarters, I think anyone would be stressed,”

You eyed her, not quite convinced.

“You know, anytime we carry out a job you’re so on edge,” you commented. she whipped her head around, knuckles turning white as she gripped the steering wheel.

“Are you accusing me of something, y/l/n?”

“No,” you replied, slowly. “Not at all,”

the meeting took place up in the mountains.

the negotiations were mostly handled by Giselle, but she looked nearly ready to scream.

“We’re paying you what you’ve asked, just give us the supply,” she repeated, voice low.

“I think it’s fair to ask for a little more, linda,”

Giselle was seething. Honestly, these men had rifles, machine guns— you weren’t about to fight them. you took out your pistol.

you pointed it right at the 500kg of dynamite.

“Take the money,” you instructed, eyes wide. You looked crazed, most likely.

they stared at you.

“I said take the FUCKING MONEY! You think I won’t do it? We can add on 130,000 more pesos, but that’s it.”

They agreed.

Giselle was silent, in the car drive. You stared at your hands.

“You would’ve done it,” she murmured.

“I would have,” you agreed, and it came with a sick sense of realization. You would have killed everyone in there, including yourself. You would have done it. Who were you? What had you become?

Giselle laughed, one of the only times you had ever seen her show a positive emotion.

“Oh, God,” she snickered. “You really didn’t think when you signed up for this, huh?” She commented. Your eyes widened, but you schooled them back into place.

no, she couldn’t mean what you thought. She couldn’t.

“Careful, baby,” she hummed. “You don’t wanna become something you can’t come back from,”

well, that’s fucking ominous.

Your next meeting was scheduled in the following weeks. You felt like Giselle was.. watching you. Her gaze never left you, but whenever you looked back, she was always just staring out a window, or at something on the wall. It was unnerving.

The second meeting went smoothly, but ended late. Giselle was driving once again, smoking.

“Do you have another?” You asked, suddenly, glancing at her against the dark backdrop of the night.

“Another what?” She questioned, looking over at you for only a moment, before focusing on the old, pot-hole filled road again.

“A cigarette. And a light,” you clarified, holding out a hand.

“I have a cigarette,” she confirmed, handing you one. “But no light. Sorry,” she shrugged, seemingly unbothered.

“Oh, fuck off Giselle. Just light it with yours,”

She rolled her eyes. “Why should I? Don’t you have a lighter?”

“I didn’t bring my lighter, I didn’t think I needed it,” you shot back.

She sighed, annoyed, but complying. She kept one hand on the wheel, barely glancing at the road, lit cigarette half in her mouth, being held in place by her hand. You kept your own firmly between your lips, not wanting it to fall.

she pressed the lit end to your own, eyes dark, and you couldn’t help but stare into them.

the end finally caught a spark, lighting up, and you both stared for a second more before breaking away.

You took a long drag, averting your eyes from her gaze, glad the dark of the night would hide your blush.

“Thanks,” you muttered, gazing out into the fields.

“Don’t mention it,”

MEETING THREE 1988, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 2:31 A.M. Location: Karina’s office Objective: Find the key members of the cartel.

It happened so very late, and you struggled to stay awake. You felt your eyes closing, but Giselle would push you, and you’d spring back up.

Karina was arguing with a man about the price of the job. She was aggravated, he wasn’t taking the accepted offer.

The meeting had started off very casual— she even offered him some of their supply. You didn’t take any, neither did Giselle, but Karina and the man each did a line, snorting it off the table.

You watched the cross that hung from her neck dangle along the table, occasionally tapping the wood. The other man wore one as well, as did Giselle, as did you— you felt just a bit guilty about it. Hopefully, He’d forgive you for your wrongdoings. Hitmen prayed to God and so did drug lords— as did nuns, priests, politicians— all prayed, all believed. At least, most did. They claimed so.

You were shaken from your thoughts by a loud crash. Karina had pushed the man against the wall, yelling, now— “¡Me estás sacando la piedra!”

Giselle never said anything like that. Come to think of it, she cursed under her breath, you weren’t even sure what language it was. you shouldn’t be thinking of Giselle, though, not when this man seemed like he would die. That shook you out of your stationary position.

you jumped up, rushing towards her. “Karina! Karina, let him go!” You demanded, trying to pull her off. Giselle followed suit, prying her off him. Karina was panting, she looked crazed. Blood trickled out of her nose, and you wondered how much of her supply she was doing.

“You don’t understand,” she growled, clutching her desk. “Just take the money,” she began, again, and the man finally nodded. She practically threw the money at him, watching as he scrambled out. She let out a frustrated sound, slamming her hands on the desk.

“Giselle, get out. Y/n. Stay,” she demanded, not turning around.

Giselle hesitated, for a moment, it was barely noticeable.

but she left.

Karina turned to you, and like so many times before— you were truly, deeply scared. And yet..

you fell right back into her, letting her kiss you, use you, until she was fine again.

1989, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 3:13 A.M. Location: An old, unused road in the mountainside Objective: Find the key members of the cartel.

The meetings happened in quick succession. They took place all throughout the rest of 1988, and into early 1989. It wasn’t until September that things really began to change.

Minjeong was always out. She avoided Karina, and only spoke with Giselle sparsely.

You and Giselle were in the car, currently. The final meeting had just occurred, and the both of you had gotten tired of driving.

you were both just sitting there, with the car off. Giselle spoke, suddenly.

“How do you do it?” She questioned. “How do you put up with her?”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Karina. I just.. sometimes, she’s too much. Especially lately. She’s paranoid,”

“I don’t know, I just-” you couldn’t say it was because it was your job. You couldn’t say it was because a part of you wanted her. You weren’t sure how to even reply to that. “I just do,”

Giselle seemed like she wanted to say something, but she closed her mouth. It was silent till she spoke again. “I don’t understand you. I mean, you’re like me, but.. you’re just so.. different— naive,”

“I am not naive!” You protested, even though you knew very well you were.

“Yes you are! I know you’re- I-” she wasn’t being very coherent, aggravated, fingers flexing like she was antsy.

“I’m what? What am I? Just spit it out, Giselle! I’m tired of-”

She cut you off, kissing you. You were surprised, for a moment, but quickly reciprocated. Her fingers curled in your hair, pulling you closer. You braced yourself on the dash, trying not to touch the wheel or anything else that could move the car.

“You’re so fucking infuriating,” Giselle muttered, pulling you into the backseat with her. “You just have no idea what’s going on, do you?”

You panted, now slightly confused. “What?”

“Nevermind,” she groaned, pulling you closer once again.

She pulled you onto her lap, and you snaked your hands into her hair, tugging at it, blunt nails scratching at her scalp.

You didn’t really feel bad about it, is what you’d realize later, when you were driving back in silence.

You kind of wanted her to do it again.

You and Giselle didn’t talk about anything that had happened. Partly because you didn’t want to, and partly because you feared what Karina would do if she found out. The weeks leading up to what you found to be a tragedy were tense. Minjeong was out more often than not, as was Giselle. You couldn’t warn anyone, because Karina had such a close eye on you, lately. She just wouldn’t leave you alone.

December came quicker than you would wish.

It was night when you heard Minjeong speaking to Karina.

“Jimin, you can’t do this,” she murmured, lowly, voice laced with an unseen anger.

“Why are you so tense, Minjeong? I thought you always agreed with me..” she sighed, and you could hear her walking through the thin walls.

“I can’t let you kill so many people, it’s just- it’s insane! You’re being irrational— you’ve snorted half of your own fucking supply!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Karina— Jimin, you’ve learned— spat, and the unmistakable sound of a slap resounded through the warehouse, Karina breathing hard. You heard a struggle, and panting. “I’ll kill you, Minjeong, don’t think I won’t. I’ve kept you around out of pity— and of course, you’ve always been so obedient. Why are you so hellbent on rebelling now?” She whined, in a mocking manner.

“You killed Ningning— how am I supposed to be loyal to someone who kills her own men?” Minjeong replied, voice breathy, as if she couldn’t breathe.

There was silence.

“You’ll learn. Now, leave here. If you argue against me again, I’ll feed you to the wolves,” Jimin growled, and the sound of Minjeong hitting the floor was heard all throughout the warehouse. “Get out of my sight,”

1989, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 11:13 A.M. Location: a safehouse for the cartel Objective: Find the key members of the cartel.

Karina was, and always will be, a mystery.

you had found out now that Karina’s name was Yu Jimin. You had asked Minjeong, shortly after what happened. You went to sleep, and awoke to the sound of the radio, blaring.

“El edificio del Departamento Administrativo de Seguridad ha sido bombardeado.”

you woke up with a start. You knew it’d happen. But there was a sense of true hatred, in that moment.

you walked out of your room.

you walked into Karina’s office.

“Yu Jimin,”

she whipped around, smile morphing into a frown in seconds.

“How do you know that name?”

“Minjeong,”

She saw the gun in your hand.

“Oh, won’t you put that down?”

You stared at her.

She smiled, then.

“You know, I knew you worked for them,” she began, nonchalantly.

“What?”

all that work, all that secrecy— it meant nothing, in the end? She knew, she always knew?

“I saw you searching for our names. You were just so.. you seemed like you’d work for the government. And then I found that little phone you had! It’s been disconnected for years. They haven’t received a single message,”

You stared, still, dumbfounded. Suddenly, this made it all the worse. She did this, forced you to help— knowing? You raised the pistol.

“Giselle,” Karina called, and the other girl appeared a few seconds later. She stared at the scene in front of her, looking between the two of you.

“Get rid of her for me, will you?” Karina dismissed, shrugging off the threat.

Giselle slowly took out her own gun. She pointed it at you, and yet—

“Yu Jimin, you’re under arrest for drug trafficking, terrorism, murder, smuggling, and-”

“What? What are you talking about?” Her eyes widened, as she shot up to her feet, gripping at her desk.

“My name is Aeri Uchinaga. I work for the FBI-”

“It was you!” She shrieked, nearly mad. “You were the mole? But you- you’ve killed in my name! Won’t you be implicit?”

“I’ll be pardoned by the state, most likely,” she informed.

it all made sense now. The strange accent, the tray she was so tense, constantly— you were a bit proud of yourself for noticing all the off things about her, but now was not the time.

you stared at Karina. You wanted to shoot her.

“She could leave,” you pointed out.

Giselle glanced over at you. “She could,”

you aimed at her leg. Just a bit off from the major artery in the thigh.

a click.

The aftermath was severe. The building was destroyed, most of your department had dissolved. Minjeong was working with the police, you had found out— although you hadn’t heard from her since the arresting.

you weren’t sure what to do, anymore. You had dedicated so much to this— and it was all for nothing. Essentially, you had failed.

You were currently living with Aeri, actually. You were a valuable witness— you had seen and done things that would hopefully be able to incriminate Karina, more than all the other records there was of her actions.

Aeri wasn’t as mean as she had been. She was actually quite quiet— but not mean. You two spoke about it. A lot had happened, and you both lived through it. You could relate to each other.

it would take time, though.

1993, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 11:13 A.M. Location: Washington, D.C. Objective: . . .

It had been 4 years since Yu Jimin had been arrested. She was facing many, many charges— although you tried not to keep up with the news. There was to much going on.

currently, you were with Aeri. You and Aeri had gotten much closer in the following years— how could you not? You spent almost every waking moment together.

Aeri had some work to do, so you were waiting. It was quite simple, really.

You had been offered a position, here— in D.C. You’d work on other jobs, similar to this, but far more investigative. It sounded.. good. You’d like to help people, thats alway’s something you’ve wanted.

You were shaken out of your thoughts by Aeri.

“Hey,” she called, to get your attention. “Let’s go, they’ve got some questions to ask you before you can get hired. You know how government jobs are,” she shrugged, leading you down a winding hallway.

“Yeah,” you replied, your hand in hers. “They kind of suck,”

“They do,” she agreed, with a sigh. “They kind of do,”

A/N: I HATE HOW THIS CAME OUT 😭😭 it took me so long but it’s done. I kind of just wanted to get it over with. I don’t have much to say, honestly I might delete this. I had a good idea for it but just couldn’t find the words to execute it. sorry </3 expect a better work soon. I’m hoping to finish up some less heavy ideas before returning to my cold war AU. In any case, asks are appreciated, and I’m open to requests! thank you for reading this mess </3 also aeri being endgame is payback for you (aettudae) making her married to a man in honeycomb. that should be ME.

EXTRA: when you read ‘mi amor’ keep in mind I’m imagining to pronounced like one word, so more like ‘mia-mor’. ‘mia’ kind of sounds like ‘mya’. this will make sense to spanish speakers.

[focusonkayjay]

between the ride and the roses (6)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn, angst, smut, fluff

Word count: 4.8k

Series summary: There's an insane turn of events when your calm and peaceful life is intruded by Jungkook, a biker boy who sets up his loud business right next to your own. Your paths cross under unlikely circumstances, starting with a clash of personalities but gradually you find yourself establishing a deeper connection with the annoyingly attractive biker jerk. You both have no idea what's in store for you guys as you try your best to put up with each other.

Chapter Warnings: mature language, mention of injuries and wounds.

A/N: thinking of uploading another story soon and simultaneously updating it with this story. anyways, let me know how this part was <333

part 6: bruises before the blossom

The harsh buzz of the alarm pierces through the silence, dragging Jungkook from a restless, fitful sleep. His head throbs, heavy from the lack of rest, his body aching from tossing and turning all night. The bed feels too cold, too empty, and it’s a reminder of just how miserable he feels.

Even in his sleep, his mind never truly let him escape the images of you... the sound of your voice cracking with anger, the hurt in your eyes, and the way you turned away from him.

He drags himself out of bed, a sigh slipping from his lips as he rubs at his eyes. The entire day ahead seems like a mountain he’s not sure he’s capable of climbing. He’s still trapped in the mess he made.

There’s a weight pressing down on his chest that doesn’t ease, not even when he tries to focus on the simple motions of getting ready. His mind keeps replaying the argument, each harsh word, each painful silence, and his stomach churns with guilt.

The ride to his shop is cold, the morning breeze biting through his jacket. As he rides, all Jungkook can do is replay the mess he’s made in his mind, searching for a way to fix the chaos he’s so recklessly caused.

The hum of the shop’s overhead lights and the scent of motor oil mixed with leather greet Jungkook as he steps into his motorcycle shop, the familiar setting providing a small sense of comfort amidst the chaos inside his mind.

It’s early, and the place is quiet except for the occasional clinking of tools or the sound of an engine being worked on in the back. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but it doesn’t help. The weight of yesterday still hangs over him like a dark cloud.

Yoongi’s already there, sipping coffee at the counter, his eyes flicking up when he hears the door open. He raises an eyebrow at Jungkook’s disheveled appearance and his tired eyes. He doesn’t need to ask if something's wrong.... it’s so obvious.

“Wow, you look like shit.” Yoongi comments dryly, leaning back in his seat, the mug still in his hands.

Jungkook drops his bag onto the counter with a heavy sigh. He doesn’t even respond right away, simply running a hand over his face in frustration. The guilt is eating him alive, gnawing at the edges of his every thought.

Jungkook remains silent, pulling up a stool and sitting down beside Yoongi. He leans forward, elbows on the counter, his gaze unfocused. “I screwed up, hyung. I fucking... I fucking messed up.” he starts.

Yoongi furrows his brows, not quite sure where this was coming from but he watches Jungkook carefully for a moment, before placing his mug down and crossing his arms. “What happened?” he questions.

Jungkook swallows hard. “We… we had a fight. Last night... me and Y/n... And... and I...” He pauses, grimacing at the memory of how he’d snapped, how everything spiraled out of control. “

"I didn’t listen. I said things I shouldn’t have, Hyung. Hurtful things. And the worst part, we weren't even alone. People were watching...And now… now I can’t stop thinking about it. The way she looked at me when she walked out…” His voice falters, a knot tightening in his throat. “I don’t know how to fix it.”

Yoongi’s expression hardens slightly, the disappointment clear in his eyes. “You messed up that bad, huh?”

Jungkook nods slowly, his hands trembling slightly as he grips the edge of the counter. “I don’t even know why I acted like that. I just... got so caught up in my own head, I didn’t even think about how she was feeling. And now… she’s pissed. Probably doesn’t want to see me... ever.”

Yoongi exhales sharply, rubbing his temples. “Listen, Kook… sometimes you really act like a damn idiot. But come on... you know better than this. She didn’t deserve that. I don’t care how stressed you were, how tired you were… there’s absolutely no excuse for treating anyone like that, especially her.”

Jungkook flinches at the words, but he can’t deny the truth in them. Yoongi’s never been one to sugarcoat things, and right now, his bluntness is exactly what Jungkook needs to hear.

“I know...” Jungkook mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. “I really know. I just… I don’t know what to do next. How do I fix this?”

Yoongi lets out a long, resigned sigh. "I know I helped you out last time, but this time… I’m afraid you’re on your own, Kook. You’ve got to figure this out yourself." He shrugs, not sparing the younger man a single glance.

Even though his words sting, Jungkook knows Yoongi’s right. This time, he has to take responsibility for his actions and find a way to make it right on his own.

The morning stretches on, but Jungkook’s mind is stuck in an endless loop, the weight of his actions from the previous night pressing down on him with an unrelenting heaviness. He keeps glancing over at your shop, the stillness of the street on your side, unsettling, your shop’s "Close" sign glaring in the quiet morning light.

Something’s not right. You’re never late to open. His thoughts spiral, consumed by guilt. Did his words hurt you so much that you’d decided to close for the day? The weight of the uncertainty gnaws at him, each minute dragging him deeper into the pit of regret.

As the clock ticks on and the day wears into afternoon, Jimin and Hoseok finally arrive at the shop, both as lively as always, their energy contrasting sharply with Jungkook’s clouded mood.

They step inside, their footsteps echoing on the concrete floor, but they immediately halt when they see his expression... dark circles under his eyes, shoulders hunched, and the tightness of his jaw.

Jimin raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he watches Jungkook. “What happened to you? You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

Hoseok, ever the teasing one, chuckles as he makes his way to the counter, but the moment he catches a glimpse of Jungkook’s face, the humor fades. “Man, what’s with the face? You look like a kicked puppy.” he worries.

Jungkook’s eyes flicker up to meet theirs for a moment before they quickly drop again. His heart is too heavy to lift his head properly, too consumed by the thought of you. He can barely form the words, his chest tight with an overwhelming sense of guilt.

Finally, he exhales a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and sinks onto the stool, running a hand through his messy hair.

“Y/N’s not opening her shop today...” he mutters. Jimin raises both eyebrows, the concern immediately evident on his face. “And that’s got you looking like you’re about to collapse?” he questions.

Jungkook nods, his voice strained as he continues. “I… I messed up last night. Badly. I...” His voice pauses as he struggles to form the words, the guilt threatening to choke him. “I hurt her. I said things I shouldn’t have. And now… she’s not even opening her shop. I think… I think I pushed her too far.”

Hoseok steps forward, his expression hardening as he leans against the counter, crossing his arms. “You hurt her? How? What did you do?”

Jungkook’s eyes are glassy, filled with regret. He hesitates, his mind racing back to the argument, to the harsh words he’d thrown at you in the heat of the moment. He swallows hard, before narrating the entire incident from last night.

Both Hoseok and Jimin listen to him intently and Jungkook can't seem to ignore the disappointed look on their faces.

Hoseok, places a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “You can’t undo what’s been said, but you can make things right. It’s not going to be easy, but you need to give her space. Let her process everything. Don’t push her.” he says.

Jungkook nods slowly, his throat tight. All he can do for now is just wait and see when he's about to be gifted the opportunity to talk to you again and set things right.

//

You pull the blanket tighter around you, cocooning yourself against the world as you lie in bed. The echoes of last night’s argument reverberate in your mind, pressing down like an unbearable weight. It’s not the anger that lingers... it’s the shame.

The shame of losing control, of letting your emotions boil over in front of him. You hadn’t meant for him to see that part of you... the part you keep carefully hidden, locked away behind walls you’ve spent years building. Now, the memory of it stings, and the question gnaws at you: Will he ever see me the same way again?

Today was supposed to be a normal day. You’d planned to open the shop, lose yourself in the routine of arranging flowers and greeting customers. But the idea of facing the world... facing him...feels unconquerable.

So you stayed in bed, letting time slip by as guilt and self-doubt festered. The shop, your sanctuary of independence, momentarily feels like a burden, a tether pulling you towards a confrontation you’re not ready for.

Your thoughts churn, trying to make sense of everything. The tears, the words you shouted in the heat of the moment... they feel too raw, too exposed. You wish you could take them back, even as a part of you knows they needed to be said. But guilt has a way of distorting things, making you second-guess what was right, what was wrong, and what was simply human.

As the sun dips lower in the sky, Taehyung and Juwon show up, their familiar faces offering a much needed reprieve. They find you exactly where they probably expected... in bed, unmoving, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Taehyung doesn’t ask questions, he simply sits beside you, his hand warm and steady as it rests on your arm. Juwon mirrors his quiet support, settling on your other side, their presence wrapping around you like a shield against your own thoughts.

They don’t press you for answers or force you to recount the night. Instead, they coax you out of bed with gentle persistence, presenting the takeout they’ve brought like a peace offering. Though you can’t bring yourself to talk about the turmoil brewing inside, the quiet comfort of their company begins to lighten the heaviness in your chest.

Taehyung eventually puts on a movie, something lighthearted and familiar. As the scenes play out on the screen, you find your mind wandering to tomorrow.

Closing the shop today might have been necessary, but you can’t keep hiding. There’s a business to run, responsibilities to shoulder... even if the thought of seeing Jungkook again ties your stomach in knots.

The anger is still there, simmering just beneath the surface. What he said, what he did... it wasn’t excusable. But a small, stubborn part of you wants to hear his side, to understand why. Will you ask him? Probably not. Not yet.

For now, all you can focus on is how to avoid him tomorrow, how to navigate the day without letting his presence unravel you all over again.

//

A week passes, and you’ve become somewhat of a pro at ignoring Jungkook. Each time he walks past the shop or lingers in the vicinity, you manage to find something else to focus on, your eyes never straying in his direction.

He doesn’t approach you either, which you figure is his way of giving you space. Though you wouldn’t admit it out loud, you’re grateful for the unspoken truce.

The planning meetings for the town fair have stalled, but you push the thought aside, convincing yourself it’s not worth worrying about right now.

It’s Friday evening, and the shop feels unusually quiet. Taehyung had called earlier, practically buzzing with excitement. He’s sold one of his paintings to a famous singer who not only bought the piece but also promoted it on social media. The result?

Tae's art business exploded overnight. To celebrate, he invited you and the rest of the group to a jazz club, and there’s no way you’re missing it.

You decide to close the shop early, flipping the sign on the door with a small thrill of rebellion. The usual routine of tending to customers and tidying up can wait until tomorrow. Tonight, you’re determined to let loose.

You brought your outfit with you earlier, knowing you wouldn’t have the time to go all the way back home, just to change and get ready. You head into the storeroom, a quiet hum of anticipation filling the air as you change out of the clothes you're wearing.

The dress you’ve chosen is simple yet striking, a dark, elegant number that hugs your figure perfectly. You smooth it down, catching glimpses of yourself in the small, dusty mirror propped in the corner. It’s not ideal, but it’ll do.

Once dressed, you grab your makeup bag and head to the washroom to finish getting ready. The harsh fluorescent lights are far from flattering, but you lean close to the mirror, carefully applying your eyeliner and adding a touch of highlighter to your cheekbones.

When you finally step back to take in the full picture, you pause, a small smile tugging at your lips. You look... radiant. The shadows that have clung to you all week seem to lift, and for the first time in days, you feel more like yourself. The heaviness that’s been following you takes a backseat, and you let the excitement of the evening take its place.

With one last swipe of lipstick, you grab your clutch and flick off the washroom light. Stepping back into the shop, you take a moment to glance around before locking the door behind you.

The cool evening air greets you as you step outside, a soft breeze carrying the promise of a night to remember. For the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to look forward to something other than your next obligation.

Tonight, it’s about celebrating Taehyung and, for just a little while, forgetting everything else.

Once you lock the door behind you, you’re ready to leave the day behind and immerse yourself in the celebration waiting for you. But just as you turn to head down the street, you stop in your tracks.

Sitting on the curb a few feet away is a figure so familiar, your heart recognizes him before your eyes fully process it.

Even with his face tilted downward, you know it’s Jungkook. His dark hair falls in loose strands over his forehead, and the slump of his shoulders speaks of exhaustion. He’s completely still, almost like he’s waiting for something... or someone. The sight makes you pause, confusion flickering across your face. What is he doing here, sitting outside on the curb, right outside his shop?

You take a hesitant step closer, the sharp click of your red pumps breaking the silence. The sound alerts him, because his head lifts slowly, and suddenly, his gaze meets yours.

In that instant, it feels like time itself stops. His dark, expressive eyes hold yours, and for a moment, the weight of the world seems to fall away. It’s the first time in what feels like an eternity that you’re truly seeing each other.

You take a sharp breath as your eyes scan his face, and what you see makes your stomach twist. A nasty bruise blooms across his forehead, his split lip is still raw, and the faint trace of dried blood lingers at the corner of his mouth.

He looks like he’s just come out of a fight. Panic rises in your chest, questions swirling in your mind. What happened to him? Who did this? And why is he sitting on the curb like this? You remember he was like this the other night too... the night he snapped at you, the night you snapped at him.

While your mind races, Jungkook sits frozen, too stunned to speak. He’s captivated, his eyes drinking in every detail of you like it’s the first time he’s truly seeing you. Your long hair cascades freely down your back, glossy and catching the faint glow of the streetlights.

The sleeveless cherry red satin dress hugs your curves with a perfect balance of elegance and allure, the thigh-high slit teasingly revealing the smooth length of your leg with every subtle shift of your body.

He can’t stop staring, his eyes tracing the curve of your shoulders, the way your dress glides effortlessly with your movements, and how your red pumps seem like they were made just for this moment. You look breathtaking. Ethereal. He almost forgets the pain in his body, too lost in the sight of you.

“You look…” he begins, but his voice falters. Words seem inadequate for what he wants to say. His throat tightens as he tries again, but nothing comes out. His eyes do all the speaking for him, wide and reverent, as if he’s looking at something impossibly beautiful.

Your heart hammers in your chest, torn between the storm of emotions his presence stirs and the worry that knots your stomach at the sight of his injuries. “Jungkook…” you whisper, your voice soft but tinged with concern. “What happened to you?” you question softly.

He doesn’t answer right away, his gaze still fixed on you, as though he’s afraid to look away and break whatever fragile spell this moment holds. But you don’t miss the faint twitch of his lips, like he wants to say something but can’t.

The silence stretches between you, charged and heavy, until finally, you take another step closer, your concern overpowering your hesitation. “Jungkook...” you say again, firmer this time. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Unable to hold yourself back any longer, you step towards him, your heels clicking softly against the pavement. Without a second thought, you crouch down beside him and gently place a hand on his arm, your fingers curling against the fabric of his jacket.

“Come on.” you murmur softly, your worry overpowering the tension that had hung between you for the past week. Jungkook stiffens slightly at your touch, caught completely off guard. He hadn’t expected you to come near him, let alone help him.

But before he can process it, he’s distracted by something entirely different... your scent. It envelops him, warm and sweet, with a faint floral hint that makes his head swim. It’s intoxicating, like you’re some kind of drug, and for a brief moment, he forgets the sting of his bruises.

You carefully pull him up, his weight leaning against you as he stumbles slightly. “Let’s get you inside.” you say, your tone leaving no room for argument. He doesn’t protest, letting you guide him towards the entrance of his shop. With one arm wrapped around his waist for support, you open the door and step inside, the small chime above the entrance ringing softly in the quiet.

It’s your first time in Jungkook’s shop, and as you help him inside, your eyes instinctively wander. The space feels intimate, yet rugged, filled with the unmistakable smell of motor oil and leather. Rows of polished helmets and sleek motorcycle parts line the shelves, glinting under the dim, warm lights.

A large workbench sits towards the back, cluttered with tools and blueprints, while a sleek black motorcycle stands proudly in the center of the room, gleaming like it’s just been polished.

For a moment, you’re almost in awe. You’ve passed by his shop countless times, but stepping inside feels like stepping into a part of him you’ve never seen before. Each detail seems to hold a piece of Jungkook... his precision, his passion, his identity.

But while you’re busy taking in the space, Jungkook is busy watching you. He leans slightly against you, his gaze fixed on your face, illuminated softly by the warm light.

The way your eyes dart around, curious and intrigued, makes something stir in his chest. Even now, with everything that’s happened, he can’t believe how stunning you look and how easily you take his breath away.

Finally, you spot a counter against the wall, and with a quiet urgency, you guide him to it. “Sit here.” you say, your voice firm but gentle. He lowers himself onto the stool with a wince, and you step back slightly, taking a proper look at him.

His face is a mess of bruises, and his split lip looks worse under the harsh lighting. The sight makes your chest tighten with worry.

“Look at you...” you murmur, shaking your head. “You’re hurt.” In that moment, it’s as though all the unresolved tension, the arguments, and the awkward silences are erased. The only thing that matters is him and the pain he’s in.

“Where’s the first aid kit?” you ask, your voice steady but laced with concern. Jungkook hesitates for a second, his eyes still glued to you. It’s impossible for him to look away... the way the soft red of your dress clings to you, the shine in your hair, the way you’re moving with such care for him...it’s overwhelming.

Finally, he clears his throat and gestures toward a cabinet near the workbench. “Over there.” he manages to answer, his voice hoarse. You move quickly, locating the box and pulling it out with purpose.

Taehyung’s jazz party, your plans for the night, everything fades from your mind as you return to Jungkook’s side. Setting the first aid kit on the counter, you pull out antiseptic wipes and gauze, ready to tend to his wounds.

As you gently dab at the cut on his lip, he flinches slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he watches you intently, his gaze softening with every careful motion you make. The way you focus on him, your brows furrowed in concentration, makes his heart ache in a way that has nothing to do with his injuries.

“Why didn’t you take care of this sooner?” you ask quietly, breaking the silence as you work. You don’t look at him, your focus entirely on cleaning the dried blood from his forehead, but your tone carries a mix of frustration and worry. “You shouldn’t be walking around like this.” you add.

Jungkook doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, his lips twitch into a faint, rueful smile. “Didn’t think it mattered.” he mutters, his voice barely audible. You pause at that, your hand stilling for a moment before you continue. “Of course it matters.” you say firmly, your tone soft but resolute. “You matter.”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with unspoken emotion. And for the first time in what feels like forever, Jungkook feels something warm begin to thaw the cold wall between you.

You want to ask him what happened... why he’s in this state, all battered and bruised, like a fragment of some untold story. But the words falter before they can leave your lips. There’s a hesitation you can’t shake, a fear that prying might break whatever fragile tether still holds the two of you together.

So instead, you focus on the tangible, the here and now, pouring your attention into tending to his wounds while your questions remain locked inside.

For Jungkook, the proximity is intoxicating. Your scent is subtle but distinct, wrapping around him like an embrace, a drug he knows he shouldn’t crave but can’t resist. Every small movement you make draws him in deeper.

The way your long hair cascades over one shoulder, framing your face, the delicate piece of jewelry resting at the hollow of your throat, catching the faint light like a whispered secret. You look like something out of a dream, and he wonders, for the briefest of moments, if this is some cruel trick his mind is playing on him.

“Why are you all dressed up?” The words escape him before he can think them through, his voice low, almost reverent.

You glance at him, your fingers pausing for just a second before resuming their careful work on his bruised knuckles. “My friends and i are going to a Jazz club. Just a small celebration.” There’s no irritation in your tone, no sign that his question was unwelcome. Just calm sincerity, as if speaking to him like this is the most natural thing in the world.

The weight of guilt suddenly bears down on him, sharp and unrelenting. “I’m ruining your plans.” he murmurs, his eyes dropping to the floor, his voice tinged with regret.

You shake your head, an easy, unthinking gesture. “You’re not.” you reply softly. “There’s still time.” The simplicity of your words only deepens the ache inside him. How can you be this kind, this patient, after everything? The warmth of your presence, the gentle tone of your voice... it’s disarming, unraveling the careful composure he’s trying so hard to maintain.

As you place the last bandage on his forehead, smoothing it down with a tender precision, he can’t help but watch you. Every detail, every gesture, is etched into his memory like a masterpiece he’ll never get tired of admiring. And then, as you pull back, your hands brushing against his ever so slightly, something in him snaps.

Before he realizes what he’s doing, his hand finds your waist, pulling you closer with a delicate urgency. The motion is fluid, instinctive, and you freeze, startled by the suddenness of it all. Your heart skips a beat, your breath hitching as you find yourself standing between his legs, your hands bracing against his shoulders for balance. His touch is firm but hesitant, as if he’s afraid you’ll pull away.

“Jungkook…” you whisper, your voice fragile, barely audible.

He wants to speak, to apologize, to address the distance that’s grown between you, but the words just won’t come out. He’s too distracted by the feel of you so close, by the way your wide eyes meet his with a mix of surprise and something else, something he can't really read.

He opens his mouth to speak, to apologize, to say something... anything... but the words die before they can form. Instead, his gaze drops to your lips, the space between you charged with an intensity neither of you can ignore.

He drinks in the sight of you... the soft sheen of your skin, the way your breath hitches ever so slightly. He’s utterly lost, caught in the gravity of this moment, and he doesn’t want to be found.

You, too, are caught in the pull, your thoughts hazy and disjointed. Your eyes trace the curve of his lips, lingering on the slight swelling from his injury, and before you know it, you’re leaning in. The distance between you seems to disappear on its own, like some invisible force is drawing you together.

Jungkook’s heart is pounding, his hand tightening ever so slightly on your waist. His mind is a whirlwind, and yet, everything feels perfectly still. This is it, he thinks. This is the moment where everything changes. He’s so close now, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours, and he swears he can feel the faintest ghost of a connection with you.

But then, like a cruel twist of fate, your phone rings. The sound is loud, jarring, shattering the fragile bubble that had enveloped you both.

You jolt, startled as you harshly step back, breaking the connection. Your cheeks flush as you fumble for your phone from your clutch that was placed on the counter, the spell broken but the aftereffects still lingering. “Sorry,” you mumble, your voice shaky as you glance at the screen. It’s Seokjin. Of course, it’s Seokjin.

“Where are you?” his familiar voice, laced with concern comes through the line once you answer.

“I... uh...I’m on my way,” you stammer, trying to steady your voice. “I’ll... I'll be there... I'll be there soon.” You hang up quickly, your hands trembling as you slide your phone back into your clutch. Turning back to Jungkook, you open your mouth to say something, but the words won’t come. Instead, you hold your clutch close, your movements rushed and uncertain.

“I...ummm...I have...I have to go,” you finally manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. Without waiting for a response, you turn and run for the door as your heels click against the floor while your heart pounds against your chest, your mind trying to process what just happened.

Jungkook doesn’t stop you. He stays where he is, leaning against the counter, his hand still tingling from where it had rested on your waist. A faint smile tugs at his lips, bittersweet and filled with longing. He can still feel the warmth of your presence, still smell the faint traces of your perfume lingering in the air.

His heart is a riot in his chest, his mind replaying the moment over and over like a movie he can’t turn off. He tries to calm himself down and to make sense of it all, but one thought keeps cutting through the haze. You were there, with him.

And even if it was for a fleeting moment, everything....everything felt right.

taglist: @kimyishin @ghijkd @dolligguk @mimi1097 @jksusawife @yooforeaa @abbie1847 @myjungkookthighs @thesarcasmqueen-22 @fairypjminie @lovelytaes-blog @jjeonjjk7 @daddyjeonnn @vantelover1306 @jeeykey (if i missed someone, pls lmk !!)

<- part 5 // part 7 ->

series masterlist

[lvnleah]

when three becomes four.

we have another baby Williamson! 🥹

find the series masterlist here!

July 2028 | 4 years old. 

“Alright! A bowl of popcorn for you, bubba,” Leah smiled as she came into the living, two bowls of popcorn in her arms. “And a bowl for me and Mummy!”

“Thank you, Mumma!” Finley smiled and cuddled into your side as Leah handed him a bowl of popcorn. 

You ran your hand over your swollen stomach that Finley was currently resting his head on, “Oh thank you, love! Baby girl is going to love this.”

“Anything for my loves,” Leah said, plopping down on the sofa on the other side of Finley. “What film should we watch, bubba?”

“Erm…” Finley began, scrunching his little face in concentration as he thought. “Toy Story 3!” he declared confidently, glancing up at you with his blue eyes. 

You smiled softly, placing a hand on Finley’s curls. “That sounds perfect.”

Leah chuckled as she grabbed the remote. “Toy Story it is then. Great choice, bubba.” She leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head before turning her attention to the TV. The opening credits started rolling, and the familiar tune filled the room, bringing an instant sense of comfort.

Finley snuggled closer to your bump. You were currently 36 weeks pregnant and due in mid-August. You and Leah had decided to start IVF for baby number two right after Finley had turned three. 

You still had embryos left over from when you had your transfer with Finley so the process was easier than last time. It was agreed you would carry the baby after a lot of thought. You were anxious about being pregnant again because of how bad your pregnancy with Finley was but you knew no two pregnancies were the same. 

The first transfer was scheduled for early August and unfortunately, that transfer didn’t work. You and Leah were both heartbroken, convinced that it was going to work the first time like it did with Finley. After a lot of tears and days spent in bed, you agreed to try again in November. 

The two-week wait came with a lot of anxiety. You were both anxious that it wasn’t going to work and that you’d have to try again which you didn’t want to do. Two weeks before Christmas you took your first test, it was a very strong positive after you had delayed taking the tests for a few days. 

You and Leah couldn’t believe that it worked and were excited to become parents again. The first few months were filled with uncertainty and worry. The first few weeks were filled with morning sickness but nothing compared to how it was with Finley. 

As the weeks passed, your pregnancy progressed smoothly, much to your relief. The regular check-ups and scans were reassuring, and the anticipation of welcoming your baby girl in mid-August grew stronger. 

Finley’s excitement about becoming a big brother was always evident. He often talked about all the things he would do with his new sibling and made sure everyone knew that he was going to be a big brother. You both made sure to involve him in preparations for the baby, taking him to scans which he loved doing. 

Finley wiggled a bit, getting more comfortable against your belly. “When baby comes, I’ll show her all my toys! Do you think she’ll like Buzz Lightyear? Or Woody?”

You exchanged a knowing glance with Leah, both of you trying not to get too emotional at his sweetness. “I think she’ll love whatever you show her, sweetheart. She’s going to be so lucky to have you as her big brother.”

Leah nodded in agreement. “You’re going to teach her all the best things, aren’t you buddy?”

Finley nodded excitedly, “Yeah! I teach her to be a little Gooner, just like I am!”

“That’s it, bubba!” Leah smiled, high-fiving him, “We aren’t gonna let Uncle Jacob turn her into a stinky spurs supporter are we?”

“No way!” Finley shook his head in disgust, “Gonner all the way.”

You laughed, shaking your head, “You’ve got him brainwashed.”

Leah shrugged, “What can I say, he supports the best team in North London. He’s a clever boy.”

Finley’s hand instinctively rested on your belly again. You could feel your baby girl shifting slightly beneath his touch, a giggle escaping him as she kicked against his hand. 

As the movie continued, Finley’s energy started to fade. His popcorn bowl sat half-eaten on his lap, and his eyelids drooped as he fought to stay awake. By the time the movie was halfway through, Finley was fast asleep, his head still resting on your bump. 

Leah smiled, brushing a few stray curls from his forehead. “He’s so excited to be a big brother.”

You nodded, feeling a wave of emotion wash over you. “He really is. I just hope the transition is smooth for him.”

Leah leaned over and placed a kiss on your temple. “He’ll be fine, he’ll be the best big brother ever. He loves his baby sister already.”

For a while, you both sat in the quiet comfort of the moment, the soft sounds of the movie playing in the background, and Finley’s steady breathing filling the space between you. It was one of those rare moments where everything felt perfectly still like time itself had paused to let you savour the simplicity of this life you had built together.

As the movie ended and the credits rolled, Leah carefully scooped Finley into her arms, cradling him against her chest. “I’ll put him to bed,” she whispered.

You nodded, watching her carry him down the hall, a smile tugging at your lips. When she came back she laid down beside your bump, now getting her own time with her baby girl.

“Hi baby peanut,” Leah smiled as she placed a kiss on your bump, “we’re so excited to meet you, Bubba. I think your brother is the most excited out of us all.”

You smiled, your hand playing with Leah’s hair, “He’s dying to meet her, I can’t believe he won’t be our only baby anymore.”

“It’ll feel weird having two kids after just having Finley for four years. It'll be fun,” Leah said, “Won’t it, baby peanut?”

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Two weeks later, at 38 weeks pregnant, the day began as usual, though you had pains all morning. You had decided not to worry too much, thinking they were just Braxton Hicks, and so you proceeded with your plan for the day. After dropping Finley off at Amanda’s for the day, you headed out for a relaxing date day with Leah.

You both enjoyed a quiet brunch at your favourite café, soaking in the peaceful time together before the baby arrived. Leah had her hand on your belly most of the time, and now and then, the baby gave her a little kick in response, making you both smile. 

You took a bite of your pastry, but suddenly paused, your hand instinctively moving to your belly as a contraction rolled through. You let out a slow breath, trying to play it off like it was nothing.

Leah immediately noticed. “Are you okay, pretty girl? That looked like more than just the usual Braxton Hicks.”

You smiled, trying to downplay the discomfort. “I’m fine. I’ve been having them on and off all morning. It’s nothing serious.”

Leah raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Hmm, I don’t know. They seem more frequent today. Are you sure it’s not early labour?”

You shook your head, laughing softly. “We’ve still got a couple of weeks. It’s just my body getting ready.”

Leah smiled, rubbing small circles over your belly. “Well, tell baby girl to take it easy on you, yeah? We’re trying to enjoy our last date before she gets here.”

Just as you started to respond, another contraction hit, and this time it made you pause, gripping the edge of the table for a moment. You took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, trying to stay calm.

Leah’s eyes widened, her concern growing. “Babe… that one looked pretty intense. Maybe we should head home, just to be safe. I don’t want to be sitting here when it actually starts.”

You shook your head again, but this time your tone was more serious. “It’s okay, Leah, really. They’re not that close together yet. Besides, we’ve been looking forward to this day all week. I don’t want to cut it short just because of a few contractions.”

Leah sighed, sitting back slightly but keeping her hand on your belly. “Alright, but I’m keeping an eye on you. You need to tell me if it gets worse. I’m serious.”

You smiled, reaching over to give her a kiss. “I promise. You’ll be the first to know.”

Leah smiled against your lips. “Good. Because I’m not letting you give birth in a café.”

You both laughed, the tension easing a little as the contraction faded. Leah leaned forward again, her hand still resting protectively on your belly. “But seriously, it’s crazy that we’re so close to meeting her. Any day now.”

You nodded, feeling a rush of emotion. “I know. I can’t believe it’s happening so soon. I feel like we were just doing this with Finley.”

Leah’s face softened. “Finley’s so excited.”

“He really is,” you agreed. “I can’t wait to see him as a big brother. He’s going to be amazing.”

Leah smiled, her eyes bright with excitement. “And you, pretty girl, are amazing too. You’re handling this so well, even with the contractions starting up. I mean, look at you, still eating your croissant like a champ.”

You laughed, taking another bite. “A girl’s gotta eat, right?”

Leah chuckled. “Just promise me that if they start getting more intense, we head home. I know you want to stay, but I don’t want to take any chances.”

You nodded, appreciating her concern. “I promise. If it gets too much, we’ll go. But for now, let’s just enjoy this time together.”

Leah smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips. “Deal. Now, what do you want to do after this? Walk in the park? Or maybe head to that bookstore you love?”

“I like the sound of the park,” you said, your hand subconsciously rubbing your belly. “Fresh air might help with these contractions.”

Leah gave you a knowing smile, but didn’t push the matter further. “Alright, the park it is. Let’s make the most of this date while we still can.”

You had a walk around the park, stopping every so often because of your contractions before heading to pick Finley up.

“Le, can we stop for a moment,” you breathed as you walked down Amanda’s path, “Another…contraction.”

Leah instantly turned towards you, concern filling her eyes. “Of course, pretty girl. Here, lean on me.” She wrapped an arm around your waist, supporting you as you focused on breathing through the contraction. 

The pain intensified for a moment, and you clenched your jaw, gripping her arm as you tilted your head back. Leah rubbed soothing circles on your back, murmuring softly, “You’re doing so good, love. Just breathe through it.”

After a few moments, the contraction subsided, and you let out a deep breath, standing a little straighter. “Okay. That one was a bit stronger,” you admitted, trying to smile through the discomfort. 

Leah gave you a soft, worried look. “We might need to rethink this whole ‘it's just Braxton Hicks’ theory. These are getting stronger.”

Before you could respond, the front door of Amanda’s house opened, and there stood Amanda, Leah’s mum, a knowing smile on her face. She quickly scanned the scene—your hands resting on your belly, the way Leah was supporting you, and the tension still evident on your face.

“Amanda,” you said, trying to sound casual, “I think baby girl might be coming soon.”

Amanda raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Might be? From the looks of it, darling, she’s not wasting any time.” She gave Leah a pointed glance. “You two need to head home or to the hospital, not my driveway.”

Leah nodded, looking more convinced by the second. “That’s exactly what I’ve been saying.”

Amanda placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Finley will be fine with me, I have all of his stuff already. You need to head to the hospital.”

Another contraction started to build, and Leah gently helped you sit on the edge of the bench outside of Amanda’s. “I really think it’s time, love,” she said softly. “Let’s say bye to Finley, and we can call the midwife on the way there.”

You nodded, finally starting to accept that this might really be the beginning of labour. “Okay, you’re right. Let’s head to the hospital.”

A few minutes later, Amanda emerged with Finley. Finley ran up to you with his typical boundless energy. 

“Is baby sister coming?” he asked, his big blue eyes filled with curiosity and excitement.

You smiled, reaching out to gently ruffle his hair. “It looks like she might be, Finn. You be good for Nana yeah?”

Finley nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! I promise, Nana Finley sleepover!”

Leah chuckled, picking him up and balancing him on her hip. “We know you will, buddy. You’re going to be the best big brother.”

Amanda gave you a warm hug. “Call me if you need anything. Now go bring that baby into the world," Amanda smiled warmly. "Finley will be just fine here with me."

As you and Leah finally decided to make your way to the hospital, the excitement and anticipation started to settle in. Leah helped you into the car, buckling you in gently as you focused on breathing through another contraction. The ride was a blur of adrenaline and tenderness, Leah’s hand never leaving your thigh as she drove, calling the midwife to let her know what was happening.

“We’ll be there soon, pretty girl. Just keep breathing,” Leah reassured you, her voice calm despite the growing intensity of the moment.

The hospital was ready for your arrival, and as you were checked in, the midwife confirmed that you were in active labour. Your baby girl was on her way. Time seemed to pass in waves—some moments felt slow and agonising, while others moved too fast, but through it all, Leah never left your side.

You were six centimetres when you arrived and you took the epidural as soon as you could. You managed to nap for a bit and when you woke up again it was time for the midwife to check you again. 

“You’ll be happy to know you’re at ten centimetres,” She smiled as she took off her gloves and threw them into the bin. “I’ll go get my colleagues and you can start pushing. Almost time to meet your baby girl!” 

Leah squeezed your hand, her eyes wide with excitement and a hint of nervousness. “Did you hear that, pretty girl? It’s time. We’re going to meet our girl soon.”

You nodded, a wave of emotion rushing over you. The months of anticipation, the moments of uncertainty, and now you were here, ready to bring your daughter into the world. The room buzzed with activity as the midwives prepared, but all you could focus on was Leah, her steady hand in yours, and the fact that you were going to meet your baby girl soon 

The midwife returned, this time with more nurses and doctors, and they all smiled reassuringly. “Alright, darling, when the next contraction comes, we’ll start pushing. You’re doing great.”

You looked at Leah, taking a deep breath. “We’re ready for this, right?”

Leah kissed your forehead, “We are so ready. You’re going to do amazing, just like with Finley.”

As the contraction began, you bore down, gripping Leah’s hand tightly. Time seemed to blur again, each push bringing you closer to meeting your daughter. Leah’s encouragement never stopped, her voice a distraction from the pain and effort.

“You’re almost there,” the midwife said, her tone filled with excitement. “One more big push.”

With every ounce of strength left in you, you gave one final push, and then, the room was filled with the sound of your baby’s first cry. Tears welled in your eyes as the midwife lifted your daughter, placing her on your chest.

“She’s here,” Leah whispered, her voice thick with emotion as she leaned in to kiss you. “Our little girl.”

You looked down at the tiny, baby girl on your chest. She was much smaller than Finley was and had a large set of lungs on her from the sound of the cry that she produced. You couldn’t believe she was finally here.

“She’s perfect,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to her soft head as Leah wrapped an arm around both of you. “I can’t believe it. She’s actually here.”

Leah looked down at your daughter, her eyes brimming with happy tears. “She’s more than perfect. You did it, pretty girl. You did it. Oh my gosh, she looks so much like Finley!”

The midwives busied themselves with cleaning up and checking on the baby, but for that moment, it was just the three of you, cocooned in a bubble of pure joy. Your family had grown, and soon, Finley would meet his baby sister, the little girl he’d been so excited to love and protect.

And just like that, your family was complete for now. Eloise had completed your family. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The first night with baby Eloise, or Ellie as you’d nicknamed her, went smoothly. You both knew what to expect so you both found the night feeds fairly easy. 

As the soft light of the morning sun filled the hospital room, you stirred to the sound of tiny cries from Ellie’s bassinet. Leah was still half-asleep beside you, but her eyes fluttered open at the same sound.

“Morning, love,” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep as she sat up to check on Ellie. “Looks like someone’s hungry.”

You nodded, gently pulling yourself up and reaching for your baby girl. She was so tiny in your arms, her little face scrunched up as she made soft noises. Leah watched with a smile as you settled Ellie to feed her, her tiny hands clutching at your skin.

“She’s so beautiful,” Leah whispered, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you settled into her side. “It still doesn’t feel real. We’re parents of two now.”

You laughed softly, “I know. I keep looking at her and just thinking, ‘she’s ours’ she actually belongs to us, Le.”

A knock at the door interrupted your moment, and a nurse stepped in with a warm smile. “Good morning, mamas. How are you feeling today? And how’s baby girl doing?”

“We’re good,” Leah replied, glancing down at you and Ellie. “She’s feeding really well, and so far, it’s been a smooth night.”

The nurse nodded approvingly. “That’s great to hear. We’ll do another check on her in a bit, but you both seem to be settling in wonderfully. Do you need anything right now? Some breakfast, maybe?”

You smiled. “Breakfast would be amazing, thank you.”

As the nurse left, Leah leaned over and kissed your temple. “I’ll text Mum and let her know she can bring Finley by in a couple of hours. He’s going to be over the moon when he meets Ellie.”

The thought of Finley meeting his baby sister made your heart race with excitement. He had been talking nonstop about his baby sister. You could already picture his wide eyes and the way he would gently touch her tiny hands, just like he did with your belly.

A couple of hours later, after you both had eaten and Ellie had been checked over by the doctors, the door to your room swung open, and in rushed Finley, his little feet pattering excitedly on the floor.

“Mummy! Mumma!” he called out, his eyes wide with anticipation as Amanda trailed behind him. “I missed ‘ou! Baby sissy here?”

Leah crouched down, holding her arms out to him. “She’s here, bubba! Do you want to meet your baby sister?”

Finley nodded eagerly, his curls bouncing as he ran to Leah, who lifted him up and carried him over to the bed where you and Ellie were waiting. His little face lit up the moment he saw her.

“She’s so tiny!” he whispered, his voice full of awe as he gazed at his new sister, who was bundled up and sleeping peacefully.

You smiled, holding Ellie close as Finley leaned in for a closer look. “This is your baby sister, Ellie,” you said softly. “You want to say hi?”

Finley reached out gently, his little hand brushing against Ellie’s tiny fist. “Hi, Ellie,” he whispered. “I’m your big brother, Finley!”

Leah grinned, her eyes misty with tears as she stood beside you. “She’s so lucky to have you, bubba.”

Finley looked up at you both, “I love her! She’s so cute and tiny!”

”Oh she’s absolutely gorgeous,” Amanda whispered, “Doesn’t she look Finley?”

“She does,” Leah smiled, “Do you want to know her full name?” Leah asked, getting a nod from Amanda, “Her name is Eloise Amanda Williamson but we’re calling her Ellie for short.”

Amanda's eyes welled with tears as she heard her name, a soft gasp escaping her lips. "Eloise Amanda… that’s such a beautiful name. I’m honoured." 

Leah gave her a warm smile, wrapping an arm around her. "We wanted to honour you, Mum. You’ve been there for us every step of the way."

Finley continued to look down at his baby sister, mesmerised by her every little movement. "Can I hold her, Mummy?" he asked. 

You smiled, glancing at Leah, who nodded. "Of course you can, Fin. Let’s get you set up," Leah said softly, guiding him to sit beside you on the bed. She gently helped him cradle Ellie in his arms, her tiny head resting against his chest.

Finley’s face lit up with a smile as he held his little sister, his small hands carefully supporting her. "She’s so little, Mummy," he whispered.

You smiled, your heart swelling as you watched the two of them together. "She is, but she’ll grow big and strong just like you!”

Leah sat beside you, her hand resting on your thigh, her gaze never leaving Finley and Ellie. "We’ve got our two little loves, right here," she said quietly, her voice filled with emotion.

And with that, the next chapter of your life as a family of four officially began.

[h0ney-mochi]

I'm thinking of a subby!xiao x dom!Afab!Reader, where it's xiao's first time and he starts crying because of the extreme pleasure he is receiving lmao

(I wanna hear his moans, whimpers, whines, crying, I wanna feel him squirming as he begs me to go faster on his cock lmao)

Anyways thanks! I hope you have a wonderful day :D

sub Xiao x dom afab!reader

SMUT/NSFW CONTENT (sub!xiao, dom!reader, afab!reader, riding, dacryphilia?, praise)

Summary: You've started being more intimate with Xiao a few months ago. Make-outs, some touching, but nothing too far... And then, one night, he tells you his thoughts on wanting to do more.

A/n: YR SO RIGHT... he'd be whimpering and whining for you to speed up, go harder, he wants more!!! <3 Hope you have a good day as well, anon! I haven't written in so fucking long that I'm scared this isn't that good... gosh help

Minor writer, dni if uncomfortable!

It's another night of you and your lovely adeptus boyfriend. He's still not used to the title of that, especially when you run up to him muttering the words with a huge smile on your face. You've asked him if he's uncomfortable, that you can change the nickname up, that he can tell you if he doesn't like it— Before seeing the blush on his cheeks that he's trying very hard to hide. He'll say it's fine, avoiding your teasing gaze, not wanting to admit that he does like the name. Especially when it comes from your lips.

Another one of those nights of you laying in the grass, kicking your feet in the air while reading a book in the pale moonlight. Xiao is beside you, looking over the hill. It was calm and quiet. Occasionally, you could hear some bird making noise in the distance, but other than that, it was peaceful. You flip another page and smirk at a sentence.

Xiao has already moved his attention away from the fields, looking down at you now, watching your eyes move across the words on the page. He slightly furrows his eyebrows, deep in some thoughts. It's fascinating how you have so many sides to you. Just in the early morning of the same day, you had him against the wall, messily making out. And now you're giggling at a book you picked up from the library days prior.

He feels the same weird feeling in his stomach that he felt in the morning when you had your tongue down his throat. What was it? What is it? You two never went far. You guys started getting sort of intimate a few months ago, maybe. He was inexperienced. It all always was too much, making him light-headed. Even a slightly heavier make-out session was enough to make his knees buckle. He doesn't know if you've been with someone else before him... You do it so easily. You always take the lead. Is it because you've learned it with someone else or.. or...

Oh, how he wished he would be the first one.

"Xiao?" Your gentle voice breaks him out of his thoughts, and he meets your eyes. He stares at you for a moment before looking away, answering you with a simple 'What?'.

"You seem pretty deep in thought, something bothering you? Do you need to go already?" You ask him while sliding a bookmark on your page and closing the book. Xiao grunts, shaking his head, "No, I'm fine." You won't let that go. You sit up and scoot closer to him, leaning against his shoulder. He moves his head to the side so you can lay yours comfortably. Your two fingers do a walk on his leg, and you smile. "Xiaooo," you drag out his name, chuckling at the end, "Tell me what's up."

Xiao sighs in annoyance, looking away. You slide your hand into his, intertwining your fingers. He tenses up and slowly turns his head to look down at you. He's met with your eyes already staring at him. "Come onnn, you know I won't judge," you continue your sentence. Xiao stares at you with an annoyed look. Some silence passes, and he blinks a few times before looking away again.

"It's nothing, I've just been thinking... about us. About what we... do." He finally says, absentmindedly moving his thumb against your hand. You hum in a bit of confusion before straightening your back, and he looks at you when you do that, eyes slightly widening in some fear. You take both of his hands in yours and look at him, "That's what's bothering you? Am I going too fast? I'm really sorry. You shouldn't keep these things to yourself, honey." You speak, furrowing your eyebrows, slightly chewing on your lip. Have you really been pushing too hard on him? Well, it would make sense that it would be too much for him... But it's the first time that he's bringing this up. How long has he been thinking like this?

"Oh, what? No, no, I-" Xiao's eyes widen at your words, and he quickly shakes his head, sighing again, "No, you got it wrong. You're not doing anything wrong, [name]. I was just thinking that..." I want you. I need you. I need more.

He feels his cheeks start to burn at his own thoughts. How is he supposed to say it out loud?

You stare at him with a tilted head. You try to think of what he's trying to tell you right now and make sure you won't be getting anything wrong, that you won't be misunderstanding... but his blush is really telling.

A small grin tugs at your lips. "You were thinking?" He swallows, breaking eye contact to look to the side. It's not like him to feel all flustered, but you always manage to mess with his head. Never in a million years would he admit to needing you in a way that is incredibly strange, at least to him. Yet you're willing to listen, you're grinning. You have a hunch on what he could say, and it makes him feel embarrassed.

"...That maybe we could..." He starts, feeling his heartbeat quicken and his mouth go dry. How is this so hard to say out loud?

He breathes in and then slowly exhales. Quickly glancing to you, he sees your grin. He's not sure if he should continue looking at you or look away — what can save him from these feelings right now?

"Maybe we could do... something more?" Xiao finally continues after a moment of silence. The way he worded it made him feel hot, nervousness creeping in. He starts to think again, staring in your eyes, of what you're going to say. Then he feels you squeeze his hands, and he feels his heart slowly slowing down. You let out a quiet chuckle before responding, "Yeah, we can. How far do you want me to go? Will you tell me when we're there?" He sits there, blinking at you. You hear him mutter an 'um...' and he's glancing to the side again.

"It's okay. You'll tell me when you'll need to then," You reassure him and lean in to give him a quick kiss. He feels your lips for a second, but before he can do anything back, you've already pulled away, and he feels some disappointment. You put your head back on his shoulder, speaking up again, "Just tell me when you want to try something more, or you want it to just happen in one of our moments?"

He moves his hand away from yours and coughs into it, not being able to handle your questions. How are they working him up already? Guess he's just letting his mind wander far too easily...

You noticed. Of course you did, so you spoke on it. Moving your head again, you lean into his ear and whisper, "Or do you want to do it right now?"

He lets out a breath before swallowing. It doesn't take long for him to reply, shaking his head up and down to your question. You let out a small laugh and move away, moving into his lap instead. You take your hand away from his and put both of them on the sides of his face, letting one move down to his neck and go further into his soft hair.

He stares at you with wide eyes, breathing through his mouth. He can't hide his nervousness. Or was it excitement? Neither of you knew right now.

He's already leaning closer to you, glancing down to your lips and back up to your eyes, so you only do the same. You lean in and press your lips against his once again, and his hands freeze up for a moment, before he moves them to sit on your hips, gloved hands slightly digging into your clothing.

He kisses you back, letting his eyes close shut in the process. You move your lips against his, and you feel his mouth slightly part, and you take it as a chance to slide your tongue in. You move your thumb against his cheek while running your other hand through his hair. He sighs through his nose, kissing you back, slightly melting from it as you move your tongue. And he can't help, but imagine where else he could feel it..

His hands slightly tighten on your hips, and he pulls you closer to him. He needs you closer, closer... And you let him, shifting slightly in his lap so it's a bit more comfortable for you. And that's when you feel it.

You move your hand away from his hair and slowly run it down his neck to his chest, feeling his heart beat against it. Xiao makes a tiny sound when you move your hand further downwards over his stomach. You've always trailed your hand there, but it felt different this time. Probably because he said that the two of you could do something more, and you're moving towards said wish.

You smile against his mouth and pull away, earning a tiny whine from the man in front of you. His eyes widen as his own reaction, and he glances away. You tap his cheek with your thumb, and he looks back to your face. "Eyes on me," you whisper in a soft tone. The way he looks at you and the nod of his head makes your heart skip a beat. It was cute.

"You want me to go further, yeah?" You ask, and he nods again, not confident in his voice right now. You move your hand over his pants, slowly feeling him through the clothing, and you see his eyes slightly shutting before opening fully again. You're not doing a lot, just rubbing your hand up and down, feeling his dick pulse from your movements. Yet to him, it already feels a lot, but not enough. He tries to stay still, but as a small noise falls from his lips, he bucks his hips forward, trying to get more friction from your hand. You smile, and he stares back at you with pleading eyes.

In a quick movement, you pull your hand away, and he sighs at the loss. But you had other plans anyway. Using both of your hands, you push on his chest, making him fall down onto the grass beneath the two of you. Xiao watches your movements as he props himself up with his elbows, wondering what you've got in mind for him. He's met with your eyes that seem to have a dark glint within them. Your fingers hook onto his pants, and you're slowly pulling down his clothing, making him jump slightly. It wasn't that cold, but if you're showing lots of bare skin, it does send a few chills down your body.

The flush on his cheeks gets darker as he realizes just how excited he's got from you, but he doesn't dare to look away, no — he needs to see what you're going to do.

You don't make him wait, immediately moving your hand over his underwear, wrapping your hand around his hard-on. Slowly moving your hand, same motions as before, just with a slightly tighter grip. You move your head down and leave a small kiss at the top of his clothed dick and he pulses in your hand. Hearing his breathing get shaky already makes you only wonder - how is he going to sound when he actually feels you?

"[name], please..." You hear him quietly speak, letting out a breath right after, "Can you...?" You lid your eyes at him, asking with a smirk, "Can I what?" He balls his hands into fists, knowing very well that you were teasing him.

"Please, you know- you know what I mean.." He mumbles, slightly moving his hips. You let out a small laugh, nodding. You pull his underwear out of the way, further down his legs, and he shivers from the cool air hitting his dick, getting some goosebumps in the process.

Wrapping your fingers around him again, you feel his warmth on your palm. You let some of your spit fall on his dick and you start jerking him off. Xiao lets out a moan, immediately jumping at the sensation. You kiss his tip before leaning away and climbing on top of his body. One hand bent enough so you can still jack him off, you put your other hand on the grass next to him, so you wouldn't fall over. He's the one to kiss you first, already opening his mouth for you.

It doesn't take that long for him to already start moving his hips in the same motion as your hand, hands gripping at the grass and loud moans spilling in your mouth, getting swallowed down by you. From the way he's reacting and getting more desperate, you could tell he was close.

So you slowed down your hand, and oh boy, the disappointed moan he let out in your mouth made butterflies fly in your stomach.

You pulled away from his lips, and he opened his eyes to stare at you, confusement visible in his expression. "Why- why did you stop?" He asked, but then his question was answered once he saw you pulling down your own pants, along with your underwear. His mind doesn't process what's happening right now until you're towering over him again, rubbing his dick against yourself. That sends a spark through his body, and he whines, breathing heavily. And then you look at him.

"Is this okay?" You ask, teasing his tip with your fingers, and he only nods in response. "Can you say it out loud?" You tilt your head at him and watch him stutter. "I mean- Yes, it's fine- okay-" Xiao speaks, eyes darting between your face and his dick, "Please-"

And then you lowered yourself down on him, moving your hands on his chest. Xiao's breath gets caught in his throat, and he goes quiet, mouth agape. It was fairly easy to take him in since his reactions and noises always made you get wet. Still, it felt foreign since this is the first time both of you are going to enjoy each other. Your hands clutch onto his clothes as you let out a soft moan, fully sitting down on his lap. It felt nice.

Xiao, on the other hand, was digging his hands in the grass, plucking a few off the ground from the harsh grip. He lets out a strangled moan, chest rising from a few quick breaths. Oh, you were so warm, he was inside of you, oh dear Archons, he was inside of you. Holy fuck.

You move a hand up to cup his cheek, making him zone back into your eyes. In a gentle voice, you ask, "Are you alright?" He nods slowly, unable to form proper words. And you take that as your cue to start moving. Using the strength you had in your legs, you lift yourself off his lap, leaving the tip of his dick inside you, before moving back down, slightly hitting his stomach. Xiao groans, his eyes almost closing from the feeling.

"You- you're so warm... You feel so-" He chokes out, interrupting himself with a shaky breath, "So good, fuck." You smile and grip onto his clothing, riding him at a quicker pace now. Xiao's back arched, and he let out a gasp. His hands shot up to your waist, holding on for dear life as you moved up and down his dick, moaning in the process.

He can't stop his noises now, that's for sure.

"Fuck, ah, you're- fuck, you're so warm, gaH—!" He whines, digging his hands into your skin, "Please- please go f-faster, [name], please..." You lie down on his chest, pressing your head into the crook of his neck and did as he begged. Crashing your hips up and down, the sound of skin hitting skin, combining that with the pure pleasure... Xiao couldn't hold back. His head falls back against the grass and moans flow freely from his throat as he tries to calm down. He feels tears prick at his eyes and his fingers dig harder in your waist, toes curling against the ground.

It felt so, so fucking good.

And then you moaned in his ear, and his eyes shot open towards the night sky. You moved one hand under his shirt, trailing it up his chest as you continued your movements on his dick. Through your moans, you managed to let out some proper words. "You like that? That feels good, doesn't it?"

He tries to nod, but he can't move from the pleasure, pressing the back of his head down against the ground. "Yes, ah-! Yes, feels good, fuck, feels good, feels so, so fucking good- Please, please-"

He's not sure what he's begging for, but he needs it, and he wants it so bad. He sniffles, feeling tears leave his eyes. There's something building up inside him, and he needs that release, whatever it is — he needs you to free him.

Your lips meet his neck, teeth grazing his skin. Your hips slap against his stomach, the noise from your wetness making it sound so much louder. Both your moans are mixing together, yet Xiao's are so much louder than yours. He's already sensitive, but he does not want to pull away, he can't, he feels something, he doesn't know what it is, but he fucking needs it. And so he begs with tears falling down his cheeks.

"Please, fuck- Please, I need- I need to- Fuck, [name], please, I want to- Haah- [name], please—!" Xiao moans out, his hands digging harder, daring to leave bruises on your skin and you groan in response, biting down on his neck.

"Mhm, you can do it, come on-" You say, detaching from his neck and straightening your back, quickly moving your hips ups and down, feeling your legs starting to sting, "Make me proud, Xiao. You're- fuck, you're doing so, so good."

And that's enough to have him snap. His eyes shut close, pushing more tears out, and his head falls back again. His dick pulses in you and you smile, staring down at his fucked out face. Wet streaks illuminated by the moonlight. His tight grip on your hips slightly loosens as he cums, letting out a sharp gasp. You don't stop yet, still trying to reach your own high and he slightly trembles beneath you, letting out broken moans.

His eyes are blurry and his mouth is dry, his heart is racing and he's sensitive. When you finally lean down to his face, it takes a bit for him to focus in on you. "Xiao?" Your voice sounds slightly distant, followed by a small chuckle, "Did that feel good, baby boy?"

He feels a small smile tug at his lips. You cup his face in your hands and kiss him, thumb brushing away his tears. He kisses back with the energy he still has left, and he meets your eyes when you pull away. He looked so pretty in the moonlight. His face was messy, red eyeliner stains, wet streaks from his tears...

"Yeah," his voice feels sore, "It did."

Thank you for the request! Hope you enjoy the taste <3

© h0ney-mochi 2024 / Please don't copy or repost my work and writings! <3

[trevuorzegras]

some cowboy!luke for you .ᐟ

dirt road anthem — jason aldean 💿

for @wnderify & @star2fishmeg !! ⏳

cowboy!luke having his finger wrapped around your belt loop at all times. especially when the two of you are at a bar, and he gets nervous, not wanting to leave your side.

luke’s an attractive guy, so women flirting with him was a given. it was mostly tourist, women who just weren’t from around here, and most of the time, that was very clear. he would nervously look around for you, not too sure how to put his words nicely, “look, i don’t mean to be rude, but i’ve got an ol’ lady.”

in my head cowboy!luke is absolutely a pro bull rider, entering local competitions, and traveling with his manager for bigger ones in different states. for luke, it was never about the money, it was always about his love for what he did.

until luke was 13, he was forbidden from getting on any kind of bull. so he strictly stuck to horses, and then eventually when he turned 13, he was finally able to ride his first bull. he absolutely fell in love with it, just like his brothers had.

luke never liked coffee, but you always had. so every morning since the two of you began dating, he would get up, and make you coffee. you had insisted he didn’t have to do that, but he was very persistent on doing it. he claimed “i’ll be makin’ my tea anyhow.”

when the two of you go muddin’ luke thinks it’s just the cutest thing ever to see you covered in mud. mud splatters on your face, and your clothes covered. the both of you laughing as you ride back, after a long day, hands tight around his middle.

cowboy!luke buying the two of you matching hey - dudes after seeing you borrow his to feed the horses one morning. he quickly picked up how you kept them on throughout your morning, making a mental note to buy the two of you some when he goes into town again.

random dates! an absolute must with cowboy!luke. he’ll randomly decide he wants to camp in his back yard, having a tent facing the pond. the two of you just enjoying the view, weather, and each other.

luke taking you to one of his shows, watching you absolutely fall in love with the show horses. in that moment he thought it was the sweetest thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

cowboy!luke teaching you how to play pool at the local bar in town. he didn’t go there often, but when he did it was always a good time. the sweet western bartenders adored the two of you, claiming you were just the cutest couple ever, behind terry, and lorelai. you later learned, through luke, they were an older couple who had been together for fourty - five years.

cowboy!luke who loves dancing on the front porch with you. music blasting through his speaker, as he grabs your hand, bringing you to the middle of the porch, before you guys began dancing. the two of you would spend forever dancing together if it were up to luke.

cowboy!luke carries a pocket knife with your initial on it from years ago. he bought it one day when he was in town looking for a new pair of boots. he stared at it debating weather or not he was gonna make the purchase. it had been pretty early in the relationship, and he didn’t know if it was good timing. he had ultimately decided to get it, and he glad he did.

[moonandstarshyuck]

"Always."

lando norris x gn!bf!reader

notes: I haven’t written since 2019, so bear with me. I’ve found myself thinking about a little blurb for Lando recently (actually a lot of ideas, but this one is sticking with me more than the others at the moment).

For some context, Lando’s been receiving a huge amount of hate online (and in-person) recently. I haven’t been a fan for that long—I got into F1 this summer, in 2024—but I’ve grown to care about him. I was there for Lando losing the championship, and while I think we all knew it would come to this (Max winning felt inevitable) but I’m proud of Lando for pushing so hard this entire year.

Still, with all the hate directed at him, I’m seeing a new side of him, and I’m learning that he’s a person with feelings like anyone else. I can tell he doesn’t always have the highest opinion of himself and tends to take the blame for anything that goes wrong during his races. What struck me about this is how much I relate to it. I blame myself for things out of my control or when I mess up. What sucks with Lando is that his small, human errors are what so many people focus on to criticize him—whether it’s why he didn’t win the championship or why they think he’s a bad person (which he absolutely isn’t).

The inspiration for this came from an interview he did after the Brazilian GP. At that point, everyone knew it was almost mathematically impossible for Lando to win the championship, and he talked about struggling in the aftermath: “I literally couldn’t sleep for the first two days…So I did like, what, 36-40 hours straight. So that probably made everything worse. When you’re tired, you’re more moody, and that kind of thing…I was just sat at home alone. It probably would have been better if I had been with my friends. But they don’t live in Monaco. They also have lives and are busy doing other things. And I’m a big overthinker, so like the whole flight home, the whole week, it just played over and over in my head. What could I have done differently? Why did I do that? Why did I not do this? You start thinking of all the scenarios that you kind of blame yourself for, why it’s now not possible, that kind of thing. And yeah, because I overthink and I struggle with that kind of thing, that took a bigger toll in the days after. It wasn’t an easy time.”

And I keep on finding myself wishing someone could have been there for him in person, so that he was okay. So, I wrote this. The reader in this is dating Lando but is written as a gender-neutral character that uses They/Them pronouns. The reader also has a service dog, a Bernese Mountain Dog named Thunder, to help with their own depression and anxiety (I’m not an expert on service dogs, so this many not be 100% accurate).

They woke up that early morning to the sunlight shining on their face, streaming in from the window outside. The bliss of sleep clung to them as they lay there, cocooned in warmth, the covers snug around their body. They stretched lazily, blinking their eyes open.

Instinctively, they turned to look beside them—only to find the space next to them empty. It’s too early in the morning to be anywhere else but in bed, even for training, they thought. Lando should still be here.

The realization pulled them out of their sleepy haze. The past couple of days had been not kind to Lando. They knew that he had a tendency to keep his feelings bottled up and beat himself up over his perceived failures. They understood that feeling all too well—the guilt, the constant sense of disappointment, the nagging thought that were never good enough. They had wrestled with those feelings since they were a child.

It wasn’t something that had an easy fix. If they had found the answer, they would have shared it with Lando years ago. But they had learned that the best way to fight those thoughts wasn’t isolation. Talking to someone, writing feelings down, even simple positive affirmations—thought they might sound silly—could help push back against the negative spiral. They had told Lando this countless times.

But Lando had a problem with not wanting to “inconvenience” anyone with his emotions. No matter how many times they reassured him that they were always there for him, he struggled to let himself. They didn’t blame him—it was human to struggle against your own mind.

What made everything worse was the constant online hate. Every little mistake or sarcastic comment from Lando seemed to turn into an avalanche of criticism. They remembered the first time they’d seen him like a hateful comment about himself on Instagram—the little heart next to a cruel statement, paired with note: “Creator liked this.” It had broken their heart. How could the Lando they loved ever believe such awful things about himself?

After Brazil, it had been clear that he wasn’t okay. He’d barely spoken since coming home, choosing instead to himself. They had given him space, hoping he’d find a way to process his feelings. But by the second morning, when he still hadn’t come to bed—almost forty hours after returning home—they knew they couldn’t stand by any longer.

That morning, they rose slowly from the bed, a plan beginning to form in their mind. Lanod needed someone to step in—someone to remind him he didn’t have to face his struggles alone. They were determined to be that person for him.  They couldn’t take it anymore, seeing the person they loved so badly, punishing himself over his ‘failures.’

The first step was to confirm where he was. Grabbing their phone, they opened Twitch and navigated to Max’s stream. After a few moments of watching, they heard Lando’s voice—tired, strained, but unmistakably his. He was joking with Max, his words clipped, like he was holding himself together with sheer willpower. It was enough to break their heart. They opened their messages with Max.

Thunder's Owner

Lan’s streaming with you rn?

Sent at 7:48 AM.

After a few seconds, Max replied.

Maximilian

Yeah he’s on voice-only.

Sent at 7:50 AM.

Gonna do something about him?

Sent at 7:50 AM.

Max knew. Of course he did. He probably heard the exhaustion in Lando’s voice, the edge self-loathing that came with overthinking. They typed back quickly:

Thunder's Owner

Yeah

Sent 7:52 AM.

Going to unplug his setup and drag him out of there.

Sent 7:52 AM.

Maximilian

Lol.

Sent 7:52 AM.

I’ll keep an eye out for when he disappears.

Sent 7:53 AM.

Thunder's Owner

Thx

Sent 7:54 AM.

They quietly made their way to Lando’s gaming room and eased the door open. Lando sat at his desk, controller in hand, headset clamped over messy curls.  He looked worn down, his shoulders slumped as he focused on the screen. His voice through, muted put playful, as he bantered with Max.

For a moment, they just watched him. Even now, he was handsome, but the tiredness in his expression made their chest ache. He deserved rest. He deserved to feel okay. And he wasn’t going to get that by sitting here punishing himself.

As soon as Lando died in-game and leaned back in his chair, they seized the opportunity. They crossed the room, catching his attention when they came into view.

“Why’re you—” Lando began, frowning, but they didn’t let him finish. Reaching down, they unplugged everything from the wall.

“What the hell—” he exclaimed, spinning around in his chair.

“No,” they said firmly, cutting him off. “I’m not you hurt yourself anymore. Get up.”

Lando blinked, clearly taken aback. “You can’t just do that!” he protested, but they were already tugging gently at him arm, urging him out of his chair.

“Angel, what are you—”

“No,” they repeated, their voice steady. “Get up,”

Lando hesitated for a moment before letting out a resigned sigh and standing. They took his hand, leading him out of the gaming room and down the hall to the living room. He didn’t resist, but he followed like a man in a daze. Once they reached the couch, they turned to him. “Sit,” they said, pointing at the cushions. Lando raised an eyebrow, opening his mouth to argue, but they shook their head. “Stay.”

They turned to Thunder, who had been waiting for them in the hallway, and told him, “Thunder, guard,” while pointing at Lando.

The dog immediately moved into position, standing alert in front of the couch. Lando’s eyes widened slightly as Thunder fixed him with an unblinking stare. He shifted as if to get up, but Thunder’s stance didn’t waver.

“Jeez, I wasn’t going to get up,” he mumbled to Thunder, but Thunder just sat there and watched him until he fully relaxed back into the couch.

The thought ran through Lando’s head, how he had honestly forgotten how menacing his own dog could look. He knew Thunder was trained, saw reminders of it daily with how he interacted with his partner, but he was still shocked at how trained Thunder really was at that moment.

Thunder was still staring at him when he pulled out his phone from his pocket, opening up his texts with Max.

LN

I was just dragged out of my gaming room and told to sit on the couch and like a dog.

Sent at 8:05 AM.

Not against it, but how tf did they get so determined?

Sent at 8:05 AM.

Thunder’s watching me right now.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

I forgot how menacing he could be.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

*Picture attached.*

Lol.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

Max (The 1st One)

He’s like ‘try me, I dare you’

Sent at 8:06 AM.

LN

Yeah, I don’t particularly want to try him

Sent at 8:07 AM.

Max (The 1st One)

Lol.

Sent at 8:07 AM.

They told me before they did it

Sent at 8:07 AM.

I just let them. Lol.

Sent at 8:07 AM.

LN

Helpful. What if they were trying to  kill me?

Sent at 8:08 AM.

They wouldn’t have had to if you kept doing what you were doing.

Sent at 8:09 AM.

Lando’s let out a quiet sigh, Max’s words sinking in. He glanced at Thunder, who hadn’t moved, and felt a pang of guilt. He’d pushed himself too far again, and this time it had clearly worried his partner.

A few minutes later, his partner walked back into their living room. He thought they looked beautiful, wearing one of his old t-shirts and a pair of boxers. They were entirely focused on the bowl they were carrying, and only looked up when they got close enough to hand it to him. He gently took the bowl, looked into it and saw it was one of his prep meals. While not his favorite breakfast, he knew he just needed to eat first, so he started taking bites.

He glanced up every so often, and each time he did, his partner was just sitting there and watching him eat. Lando almost chuckled at his own thought that they looked just like Thunder when watching him, and he smiled into his bowl at the thought. His partner didn’t see his smile, but he continued to eat until he had finished the bowl.

When he was done eating, he set the bowl down, and his partner again pulled him up by the crook of his arm. He just let them do so, having a thought of what was going to happen next.

His partner led them both down the hallway to their bedroom, and opened the door, leading him to sit on their bed, then they turned around and went to close their blinds and draw their black-out curtains to cover up the sunlight from the window. They had turned on their bedside lamp earlier, and the soft orange glow of the lamp permeated the room. They walked past him again, going to close the door after letting Thunder in, then they walked back to their side of the bed, and pulled him to lie down against them.

As he settled against their chest, he felt a bit odd, it being a bit of a difference to feel how much he was loved by them. How much they cared for him. And he finally spoke again, “Thank you.”

“Always, Lan. Always.” They replied, pressing a kiss to his hair.

And for the first time in days, he let himself sleep.

author's note: got inspired to actually write something for once...ty @koalapastries for the inspiration (unknowing inspiration but ty) (also sorry for using your layout outline

comments & reblogs appreciated

and i made the dividers :)

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

I have a little request if that’s alright😊

Could you possibly do a like fluffy aftercare fic with Rhys? Like I love the smut but sometimes that really fluffy aftercare with him checking in on you and making sure you are okay is even better. Him getting a bath ready and helping you clean up and him feeding you.

Basically what I’m trying to say is fluffy smut with fluffy aftercare is delicious lol

I absolutely love your Rhys fics!!! I’m DEVOURING Love and War and just your Rhys fics on general lol

I hope you’re taking care of yourself and have a great day sweetheart💜💜

I love requests! Send as many as you like! <3 Rhys doesn't get enough love so I've decided to roll up my sleeves and put out as many fics as possible and it makes me so happy to see other people enjoying them as much as me! I hope you like this one! <3

-----

Vacation Days

It's the crackling of logs in the fireplace that awakens you; the hiss of flames and the hint of pine that perfumes the air a gentle alarm clock that makes you roll over onto your side to peer out the window to see how early in the morning it is. The sky is still gray, though it could be the encroaching storm clouds that darken the sky and not the time.

You drag the heavy, fur lined blanket up over your head and bury your face in the pillow. Whatever the case, it's too early! And you're too comfortable to get up.

The bed dips beside you, blankets shifting as another body climbs into the mountain of furs needed to keep out the deep Illyrian chill. Strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against a very bare, and very icy chest.

You give a little squeak of discomfort as your mate tosses a leg around your waist, effectively trapping you against his body.

"Rhhhhyyyyssssss," you whine, voice still thick with sleep.

He kisses the top of your head, hands soothing down your back, even as the deep baritone of his laugh rumbles through his chest. "Morning, love."

"No morning. Sleep." You grumble, burying your head in his tattooed chest and squeezing your eyes shut. "We're on vacation. I'm sleeping."

The hand on your back trails lower, until he can, teasingly, give your ass a squeeze. "I can think of a few other activities we could be doing in this bed for our vacation."

In the early morning haze, your shields are completely down, and he slips right into your mind with the ghost of a caress, filling your head with images of your running your tongue along his body, tracing tattoo and muscle as he guides you onto his lap, letting you ride him slowly, leisurely, taking your time until you're both a mess. You can taste the tang of salt from the sweat that clings to his bare skin, hear those soft, breathy moans you love to drag out of him as you roll your hips over his, taking him deeper into your tight heat. Despite your desperate attempts to cling to sleep, heat pools in your lower belly.

"Rhys," you warn.

His other hand slips beneath your nightgown, dragging sensual fingers along your spine as his lips drop to your shoulder and leave slow, deliberate kisses along your exposed flesh.

"I'm not doing anything," he lies, the image he crafts shifting to him rolling you onto your back, his head between your legs, tongue lapping against your center, warm and wet in contrast to the bruising grip his hands keep on your thighs.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight; you can practically feel him inside you already.

"You're a terrible liar," you retort. Especially when the proof of his own arousal is flush against your hips.

His teeth nip at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his own hips rocking just enough that he can claim it’s an accident, even though you know it's not. You've been mated long enough now, you know his tells, can practically taste how much he wants you, even if he’s clever enough to tamper down on it through the bond so it doesn't blast you with the strength of it. Sometimes it still shocks you, just how much he wants you. You'd thought it would fade over time, had kept yourself up at night early in your relationship, convinced that eventually the High Lord of the Night Court would get bored having a simple little healer for a mate, but every day he calms those fears and shows you just how much he loves and wants you.

You can't help the little sigh that escapes you when he gets his lips on your throat, head tilting back reflexively to give him more access. Though your mind knows what it wants, your body moves on instinct, melting in his grip. This is as natural as breathing. The proximity of his body is calming, soothing the irritation of being woken up, filling your body with warmth.

His lips trail over your throat, along the underside of your jaw, warm breath caressing your quickly flushing skin, as he trails over your chin. He fills your mind with more images: You on your stomach, body flush with the mattress as his lips trail up your spine, hands caressing your bare skin in heated touches; the two of you in the shower, bodies slick with soap, caged against the damp stones and his chest, hips rutting leisurely into each other. Each image is a little more intense than the last, the bond flickering with the need he's been trying to hold at bay until you were more awake and ready for it.

You slide your hands over his bare chest, feeling the thundering beat of his heart against your palms as his lips finally slot over yours. Though he is more than ready for you, there is a leisurely pace to his movements; he knows he has time, days even, to have you. You'd come up to Illyria for a long weekend, and the Inner Circle is under strict orders to not contact either of you until you've returned to Velaris. Things have been tense in the city lately, Rhys' office cluttered with all the paperwork necessary to rebuild after the War with Hybern. Your little clinic has been full to the brim for weeks and weeks. Both of you have spent the better part of three months only seeing each other in passing before exhaustion pulls you into bed with little more than a kiss goodnight. You feel that lack of intimacy in his movements, in the way his body moves against yours. There is an air of desperation, only quelled with the knowledge that he can take his time with you.

And you with him. Fully awake now, your senses on alert, you are painfully aware of the ache between your legs. It's been too long. Far too long without this sort of intimacy. Your hands slide up his chest and shoulders, trailing until you can card your fingers through his hair.

He moans against your lips as you scrape your nails against his scalp. "Tell me..." his voice is a ragged, desperate thing, lips brushing with every word like he can't bear to drag himself any further away from your body. "Tell me to stop and I will."

Sleep is distant memory now, though you no longer mind it like you did a few minutes ago. You adjust the placement of your hips and manage to roll him onto his back, hips flush, his erection heavy and hot between your legs. You give your hips a little roll as you brace yourself on your elbows, brushing your chest against his as you lean down to kiss him once more.

"I've been convinced to get up," you tease.

His hands eagerly grip your hips, urging you to grind down on him as his tongue slips behind your teeth. Your bond hums appreciatively at the contact, the months of stress and separation slipping away.

"Although, I hope this doesn't become a habit of yours, you know I need my beauty sleep."

He releases his grip on your hips just long enough to find the hem of your nightgown and push it up and over your shoulders, letting the silken fabric fall somewhere in the pile of blankets you'd disturbed. Deft fingers trace the swell of your breasts, tweaking over nipples pebbled in the cool cabin air, before skimming back down your stomach until he can once again hold your hips.

"How could you possibly get any more beautiful than you already are?" He says, violet eyes tracing every bare inch of you, narrowing in on the lone piece of clothing separating you from him.

You kiss him again, trying to hide the blush that dusts your cheeks. You know he can feel it through the bond, know he knows just how much little things like that mean to you.

"So perfect," he murmurs, chasing after you when you break the kiss. You'd think you had starved him of affection for years on end with the way he keeps coming back, body shifting and rocking beneath you. Soft, little moans leave his lips every time you grind yourself a little harder against his cock, still separate from you by the thin layer of his sleep pants and your violet colored panties. You hadn't been paying too much attention to them when you'd changed last night, but the color and the little bow along the waistband are fitting now.

You try to pull away to rid him of his pants, too many layers between you, but he keeps you locked in place with a grip on your hips that's tight enough to leave a bruise.

"Want you out of these pants," you insist.

A small wave of his fingers has both your clothes disappearing into a random pocket realm for the time being, leaving his hands free to position the tip of his weeping cock against your entrance.

The first drag of his tip through your folds makes your head lull back, mouth falling open as you moan unabashedly. It has been far, far too long since you've been able to enjoy him like this.

"Look at my pretty girl, all ready for my cock," Rhys croons. "What was that about being tired, love?"

"Don't remember," you mumble, hands splaying across his chest to brace yourself as he slides into you an inch at a time.

He grins victoriously. "I've missed this."

It's always a bit of a stretch, taking all of him, especially after so long without him, but despite the desperation that claws down the bond at you, he takes his time, letting you adjust.

"Me too," you say, voice a breathless rasp as you try to find your bearings again. He's everywhere, filling you up so thoroughly you forget why you had reservations at all. You should have spent the whole night with him inside you, making up for lost time.

He's barely sheathed inside you before you start rocking your hips, forgoing all patience and chasing the pleasure that has started to build at the base of your spine. It's too much and not enough. Everything you need and yet not quite within reach yet.

He tuts at your neediness, holding you in place with a chuckle. "What's the rush, Darling?"

You gently drag your nails over the plains of his chest. Later, once the bond is satiated a little more, you'll take your time and run your tongue over every swirl of his tattoos. Let the dark ink lead you steadily down between his legs so you can take his glorious cock down your throat, but right now... right now the last three months are obvious in every coiled muscle of your body. You need him to move, hard and fast; to fill you up until the absence no longer feels like such a gaping wound.

"Move, please, Rhys," you beg.

He temporarily lets go of your hips so he can prop himself up on his elbows and kiss you properly, hips shifting upwards, cock driving deeper into your aching core.

You use the freedom to roll your hips, savoring the slight burn as he stretches you out further, body adjusting to his size. It's all a delicious torture you'll come back to time and time again.

You're not going to last very long at this rate, but there's no stopping your body from slowing down, from trying to savor it. The bond knows you still have days left to be slow. When he pulls out of the kiss, your lips automatically drop to his neck, kissing and sucking as many marks into his skin as you can.

One of his hands soothes down your back as the other goes back to your hip, helping you follow the quick pace of his thrusts as he slides almost all the way out of you and then right back in.

"So perfect," he purrs as he hits the spot inside of you that makes you see stars. Your natural reaction to the stimulation is to clamp your teeth down on his shoulder, and he lets out a groan that makes the coil in your belly even tighter. You love it when he's vocal for you, when he doesn't hold back the obvious sounds of his own enjoyment. Sometimes he gets too focused on your pleasure that he loses sight of his own.

Your bodies find a smooth rhythm, the headboard tapping the wall with the rocking motion of your bodies. The air filled with the sounds of your joining and the soft crackle of flames in the fire place. The flames cast your bodies in an orange halo, you trace the fractions of light across his bronze skin with your lips, just as his hands trace your skin.

His name falls from your lips like a prayer, chanted and recited like worship as your bodies meet over and over again. Stars blur across your vision, maybe from your mate, maybe from the bond, it is hard to tell at this point. Not that it matters, as long as the heat coiled in the base of your spine continues to spread and fill you.

Rhys' hand slips between your legs, rubbing tight circles into your dripping heat. He hums appreciatively at the wetness that spills down your thighs, coating his cock in a milky rings as he slides in and out of you.

"'m'close," you murmur into his neck, where you've left a darkening bruise with your teeth. He looks so pretty all marked up by you.

His thrusts stutter at your words, losing the rhythm for a moment as you feel the muscles in his abdomen tighten against your pelvis. "Let go, I've got you," he assures, lips dusting over yours. He won't be far behind.

His fingers rub circles against your clit, drawing that blissful edge closer and closer with every pass. Your breath stutters out of you, hips rocking without rhythm, trying to chase the white hot pleasure that licks up your spine.

His own motions chase after yours, finding the rhythm again, hitting the perfect spot inside you once, twice, and a third before your orgasm crests and washes over you. The clenching of your core around his aching cock drives him into his own release, hips stuttering as he fills you with his own release.

Your bodies slow their movements as you collapse on top of his chest, sticky with sweat and your joint release. His heartbeat slows, becoming steady against your cheek as he catches his breath, hands soothing down your back.

"Did so good for me," he coos, lips pressing soft kisses against the top of your head.

You let your eyes drift shut as you catch your breath, enjoying the warmth and comfort of his body as you come down from your high. The bond finally quiets, content for now, and you stroke a mental hand down it, letting him know just how much he means to you through it.

Once you've both come down from your highs, he rolls you over onto your side so he can slide out of you, lips gently caressing yours when you wince from the over-stimulation. "I'll be right back."

Even though you believe it, it's still a loss, the lack of warmth obvious from the moment he leaves the bed to fill the tub with water. You need him back in your arms immediately and you will not be soothed until it is so.

Like he knows this, he's back quickly, but instead of sliding back under the covers, he lifts you up into his arms and carries you to the bathroom, where the tub is full of bubbles and sweet, jasmine scented oils. He doesn't even try to let go of you, especially not when you have your face buried in his neck, just steps into the tub and settles you comfortably in his lap in the delicious heat of the tub.

A sigh escapes your lips as the heat licks up your aching muscles, body relaxing as you close your eyes again. Rhys' hands sooth up your sides, drawing simple patterns into your skin as he rests his head atop yours.

"Are you all right, Darling?"

You let your own fingers trace the water droplets that adorn his tattooed chest, movements leisurely and slow. You can take your time now. "Perfect."

He leans back against the tub with a hum of approval. A flick of his wrist makes the lights dim and candles along the counter flair to life, bathing the room in a soft glow that feels like it's made to match the flicker of starlight you feel dancing around the bridge between your souls.

"I've missed you," you say as you tilt your head back to look at him.

Rhys presses a kiss to your temple as his magic brings a matching set of champagne glasses and bottle to sit along the edge of the tub. "We've spent too long apart," he agrees as a shadow of his power moves to pour the champagne for him. "Let's definitely not make a habit of it."

You take the glass despite the bubbles that drip from your hands and tap it against his in toast. "Agreed."

To go with your drink, a plate of fruits and pastries appears, the later still warm, a curl of steam slipping out the sides. You raise a brow at him. "Whose oven are you pulling these out of?"

He grins as he takes a grape off the plate and offers it to you. "Maybe I made them before you woke up."

The fruit bursts in your mouth, but even the pleasant flavor isn't enough to distract you. "Darling, you are many things, but a pastry chef is not one of them."

"Fair enough," he concedes, bringing a strawberry to your lips this time.

After months of tending to so many other people, it is nice to have someone taking care of you. Your muscles relax further against his body, letting the gentle lapping of the water soothe any residual discomfort as he feeds you.

"I thought about making you something I could cook, but I didn't want to leave you alone that long. We only have so much time before we have to go back."

You take a sip of your champagne and reach for a croissant with chocolate dripping from the sides, but he snags it first and brings it within reach of your mouth for you.

"Maybe we should extend our vacation," you don't like the heaviness you feel when he sighs, not when you finally have a moment to not think about it. "Just for another day or two?"

He steals a bite of your croissant as he thinks about it.

"Amren can handle things for one more day," you suggest as you drag your fingers between the plains of his chest. "We've earned a vacation and more than our fair share of rest."

He leans down to kiss you gently. "That you have, Darling."

"Both of us," you press. "Besides, I didn't get out of our comfy bed for nothing, I think we still have some catching up to do."

Stars glitter in his violet eyes as he takes his glass from the edge of the tub and taps it against yours in another toast. "Yes we do."

[miupow]

CRAVE。⧼ PROLOGUE ⧽ ─── 투모로우바이투게더

stay away from the woods。

★ pairing。txt ot5 x fem!reader‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎g。⧼ 📖 ⧽ fantasy , romance , comedy , angst , eventual smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎cw。descriptions of personal injury and blood ・animal attacks ・mentions of illness and death ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎wc。2. 1 k | to library。

★ includes。。。heeseung from enhypen

notes from lia。finally!! happy thanksgiving everyone, i'm thankful for every single one of my amazing readers!! i hope you enjoy the prologue to my very much anticipated crave series!! look out for the first chapter in the beginning of december!!

all your life, you had been told to never step foot into the woods. that there were monsters lurking just below its dark canopy, hiding just out of sight and patiently waiting to strike. and yet the whistling of the pines has never been this entrancing. the trees taunt you from your safe little cabin, their outstretched branches waving and creaking in the wind as if they were beckoning you closer and closer.

you can see them just as perfectly from the bakery as you can from your bedroom window. they feel inescapable.

the shrill, tinny ringing of a bell snaps your attention away from the open window, your thoughts having consumed you as you laid out fresh loaves of bread to cool in the frosty air. you brush your floury hands off on your apron and turn to welcome your customer, your polite smile growing into a warm grin when you recognize the lanky boy standing by your workbench.

“that’s an awful lot to be doing all on your own.” he comments with a sideways smile, running his fingers through his auburn hair.

“i open the shop by myself every morning, hee.” you reply pointedly, rising to your tip toes to give him a quick hug before brushing past him towards the towering stone oven. “you know mother can’t work this early anymore.”

“couldn’t you ask one of your siblings to help?”

“they’re too young to use the oven or mill the wheat, they’d be no help at all. it’s not even that much work, really, just baking and cleaning. i don’t want to burden them with all of this on top of everything else.”

nothing has been the same since your father fell ill. the bakery was his and your mother’s, a humble way to support their family and their quaint little village for decades. you were never particularly wealthy, but you had enough to get by. consumption, the village doctor had called it. it was a truly fitting word for the disease that slowly consumed your poor, frail father whole. nothing was left, not even the bones. a mere shadow laid in bed all day, a ghost whose coughs have began to sound like rattling chains. none of the medicines the doctor prescribed ever worked, they only seemed to be making him sicker. he said that there was a hospital in the royal city, but your village was days away by carriage, and you and your mother had nowhere near the means to fund the trip. part of you were certain he wouldn’t survive the journey either way.

your mother now spends her days caring for him, an apothecary’s daughter clinging on to the last shreds of hope that her remedies will ward off the hands of death. you desperately wish you could feel the same, but you’ve already begun grieving… until recently.”

“mother said she’d stop by to help this afternoon.” you assert, leaving no more room for discussion. you can feel his eyes on your back, watching you as you stoke the firewood and slide trays of dough into the oven. “you worry about me too much! i’m not a little girl anymore.”

“i worried about you then and i’ll worry about you now.” heeseung chuckles endearingly, erupting a swarm of butterflies in your belly. “you’ve always been a little too brave.”

his words remind you of your mulling thoughts, pulling your gaze back to the window. “heeseung, have you ever known someone who went into the woods?”

heeseung is quiet for a worryingly long time. “the blackwoods? not anyone who made it back… why?”

your mind is screaming at you to keep your mouth shut, but you just can’t keep it all bottled up inside anymore. you’ve never hidden a single thing from your best friend, except this. “i was reading my mothers books the other day.” you admit softly, unable to look him in the eye. “in one of them it said there is a plant that grows in the blackwoods, a type of flower. it can cure any illness, save people from the brink of death…”

“y/n.” heeseung warns, his face dropping. “you’re not seriously considering going in there, are you?”

you hesitate for a second too long— he cuts you off with a scoff, stepping forward to grip your shoulders with his rough carpenter’s hands. “there’s no way that flower is even real, y/n. don’t be childish. just some fairytale out of one of your mother’s quack medicine books.”

“it was my grandfather’s.” you defend softly, finally looking up into heeseung’s eyes— the coldness you find in them frighten you.

“he was a quack too.” heeseung retorts, releasing your shoulders to turn and swiftly slam the bakery window shut. your loaves shake from the force. “there’s no magical flower that is going to save your father, especially not in the blackwoods. i love you, y/n, seriously, but you can’t keep believing in fairytales— and you wonder why i worry about you so much! promise me, you won’t go in those woods. please. one step inside and you’ll never come out. i can’t afford to lose you— your family can’t afford to lose you.”

“okay.” you relent, just loud enough for heeseung to hear. “you’re right, i was being ignorant. i won’t go into the woods.”

“say you promise.”

“i… i promise…”

standing at the edge of the forest, your cold clammy fingers wrapped tightly around the strap of your satchel, you’re caught frozen in place. you just can’t seem to get your feet to step forward, your psyche screaming at you to turn back and run home. heeseung’s words circle your thoughts, so all-consuming that you swear you can hear them in the howling wind— you haven’t told a lie since you were very young, and never to heeseung of all people. the guilt nags at you to the point of nausea.

but you had made up your mind long before you had spoken to heeseung earlier that morning. he’s a simple woodworker, he doesn’t understand a single thing about the healing magic that hides in nature… but your grandfather did. he wrote those books himself, a man who would risk his life in the pursuit of knowledge, just to help others. you wanted nothing more than to continue his legacy, save your father and prove to your close-minded little village that he was anything but the insane, rambling idiot that they all viewed him as. before and after his death. you’ve been preparing for weeks, reading as much as you can about the dangers of the blackwoods, packing whatever you possibly could think of to help you on the journey. you might have overpacked, to be honest, your weathered leather satchel hanging heavy on your shoulder. if everything went as you planned, you would be back home before anyone would notice that you were gone.

your breath fogs in front of your face, reminding you of the hearth smoke billowing from your cabin’s chimney. you can still see it, just beyond the hill, its straw hatch roof just visible over the tall grass waving in the wind. you could turn back now, put all your things away and fall asleep in the safety of your bedroom. you could forget about all of this and wake up tomorrow morning as if you had never planned anything at all.

you will yourself to move your feet, frozen in your boots like the frost on the leaves, and you enter the ominous pitch-black dark of the blackwoods.

the tree canopy is so thick that the moonlight barely breaches it, everything swathed in darkness as you walk farther and farther away from home. the flickering candle in your lantern does little to illuminate much except what was right in front of you. you focus on what you can see, the dead fallen leaves and frosty underbrush that crunch loudly underneath your feet as you venture deeper. it’s deafening in your ears, the forest eerily silent all around you, not even the distant call of an owl, the scattering of a chipmunk— you’re certain that any creatures hiding in the trees or in the brush knew of your presence.

including the monsters.

in none of the books you read would they ever describe them more than just that; monsters that use the night as camouflage, that kill livestock in their pens and steal children from their beds. any intruder in their own territory will certainly be made short work out of. you’ve always believed that they were nothing but scary stories to keep children well behaved, a tall tale your mother would use to get you to come inside for bed.

distantly, cutting sharply through the silence, you hear the howling of a wolf. it sounded a safe distance away, yet it still sent you jumping. the sudden movement causes your lantern to extinguish, plummeting you into complete and total darkness. your heart dropping, you curse, placing it on the forest floor against a mossy tree before opening the flap of your satchel and rummaging blindly through the contents for your matchbox. you try to steady your breathing, heart rattling against your ribcage, matchbox just beyond your grasp as you struggle in the dark.

you hear the rustling of leaves just to your right. desperately, you tell yourself that you’re just hearing things.

finally, you wrap your fingers around the familiar shape of your matchbox, pulling it out to fumble with its contents before you pick back up your lantern. with a strike of the match against the rough bark of the tree, you’re illuminated once again, carefully lighting the candle before putting out the match with a shake of your hand. triumphantly, you turn to continue to venture farther into the woods, before stopping cold. your breath knocks out of you all at once, leaving you gasping in the cold air.

farther up on the oak tree, carved crudely into the bark, are three sharp claw marks you’re almost certain weren’t there before.

but they had to have been, because there was simply no way that something could have snuck up so close to you without you noticing. these woods were driving you mad, you feared, still trying to steady your breathing as you turn and step forward.

as you continue deeper into the forest, you swear you hear another pair of footsteps following your own. you stop abruptly to catch them, but you hear nothing— another thing you must be imagining… yet you set onward a little faster than before.

maybe it was that wolf you had heard, you entertained as you examine the dark twisted trees. it sounded rather far away, but you couldn’t be one to discount the creature’s speed. maybe it was just watching you to make sure you weren’t a threat, and it would leave you shortly…

a growl, deep and barely audible, rumbles from between the bushes. you break out into a wild sprint, gasping and panting, running deep into the unknown. the creature chases you with frightening speed, no longer trying to hide its footsteps as it weaves through the forest floor. you had no idea where you were or where you were going, but this beast… this was his home. the hunt was on.

low hanging branches scratch and tear at your skin and clothing as you run, blood running down your face, legs and arms— you couldn’t feel the pain, the adrenaline numbing everything except for the terror in your heart. now you were just easier to track, you agonized, but you couldn’t do anything but keep running, dropping your satchel and lantern to lighten your load as much as you could. alas, you barely ran any faster… you were starting to slow down, exhaustion was starting to creep up on you, your chest aching and desperate for breath, your legs screaming in pain as you stumble and stagger through the labyrinth of trees. you couldn’t see a single thing in front of you, completely lost in the darkness, your arms outstretched to feel around as you ran.

the creature was advancing, it’s footsteps thunderous right behind you, its snarls and growls growing closer and closer. in a desperate attempt to escape, you sharply turn to the right to run in a different direction.

just as you move to step forward, your boot wedges itself underneath an exposed tree root, and you are sent tumbling to the mossy ground. you try to break your fall with your hands, but you react far too late— you slam your head against a jagged rock, blinding white light flashing behind your eyelids before your world goes black.

the last thing you feel is pain, and the last thing you see are two bright, bloody red eyes staring at you through the darkness.

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x fem!Reader) Monster AU- pt 19

(As a Kelpie, Trey is carnivorous and has a tendency to hunt his own meals. From deer, to rabbits, to fish, he will catch and consume his prey. He was far more driven by predatorial instincts as a child and actually bit Riddle once when Trey's parents were trying to teach the Unicorn to swim. Riddle has not forgotten or forgiven the bite as it did need stitches. To this day, Riddle refuses to swim with Trey because Trey bit him when they were kids.)

Warnings: yandere, yandere relationship, yandere behavior, multiple competing yandere, romantic intentioned Yandere, platonic intentioned Yandere, Harpy, Selkie, Sphinx, Spirits, Dragon, Hellcat, Vampire Bat,

~~~~~~~~

"Any word on what has been decided?"

The staff murmured quietly in the very early morning, most of them somewhat asleep as they met for what felt like the umpteenth time in the past three weeks. They had much to discuss and iron out as a group given the more than eventful few weeks it had been. Barely into the official academic year and they already had to meet almost every other day due to the impromptu student.

Not to say they minded the soft and abnormal student they all found themselves adoring and looking after, more they minded how others seemed to look at that soft student. Many of the staff were of the mentality that they had to be guides and enter parental-like roles for this wayward soul tossed to the mercy of the least inviting academic setting to such a creature. Most students of Night Raven College were confrontational, selfish, and butting heads on a good day. Tossing in a lone female student in an all male student body was trouble, tossing a soft Human female into the adult all male population of Night Raven students? An absolute upheaval of social norms and settings.

The staff had no choice but to take on parental roles, lest the students gnaw free of their own inhibitions and leap like slavering beast at the soft Human. At least with the staff standing at the ready as deterrents, few students had the agency to try anything. Still, that didn't mean the many self proclaimed poachers and Humanfuckers alike weren't equally thrown off by the staff.

Beyond the threats on Sage Island, more still needed to be discussed.

"The evidence was more than damning, and it wasn't hard to figure out where he had been siphoning funds from. To think, someone so high-ranking could turn on a critically- and effectively extinct- species to secure their own fragile sense of power. The execution will take place in a few weeks time. She is required by the laws observed in the Queendom of Roses to be present and even witness the beheading."

Professor Trein winced at this, setting down his delicate tea cup in the saucer. The older Sphinx had been the primary source of fatherly wisdom as he raised his own cubs and had the most accurate recollection of Human history in Twisted Wonderland. Naturally, he was opposed to such a grisly prospect.

"Where I agree the punishment must be severe for the crime committed, does she truly need to be present for that? It is a messy affair to see a beheading and I can't help but worry she may not be able to handle such a violent act done exclusively in her name."

"I disagree," Divus now spoke up, tapping his typical riding crop against his leg in thought, "I feel she will be more than willing to see the one who targeted her and Grim be punished for his crimes. Now, she can't go alone, that is out of the question, but who would be assigned to go with her? Surely a staff member familiar with the Queendom, such as myself, but we all know the upheaval that will come from all students should we limit who is allowed to attend."

"Perhaps it would be best to let her decide who she feels safest with? It is several weeks out, we have time. What is more pressing of an issue is who shall be next to act as her guards this time around. There is also the issue of Mr. Draconia being absent from Diasomnia for so long. To restrict his access would be best for Diasomnia, but may result in violence from him."

Crowley tilted his head before he seemed to realize the problem. He had forgotten to do the raffle again which meant none of the students knew who was expected to act as guards. Hopefully with this changing of the guard, Hades would also be content to return to the Isle of Woe.

"Why not just select the dorm that has obviously been maligned since her arrival? Savanaclaw deserves to be selected and Leona has more than proven he is a competent protector on several occasions."

"Excellent idea! Though, there is no Vice-Housewarden for Savanaclaw. Perhaps it should be a rule that at least two or more students from the dorm need to be selected as guards. Though I don't doubt Mr. Kingscholar is effective on his own, more eyes to watch for danger is not a bad idea."

~•§•~

You were somewhere between asleep and awake as you cuddled into the blankets and the warmth that seemed to surround you. Snoring softly in your arms was Grim as the young Hellcat decided early in the evening that he was going to stay close to you. Behind you, with his arms, tail, and wings wrapped around your figure, slept Malleus. The Dragon had been insistent that you stay in his embrace following the increased interest you gained after your day-long cooking feast.

As far as you were aware, everyone in the nest was still asleep.

Somewhere you vaguely figured that everyone was going to spend the day sleeping off the copious amount of sweets and other foods you had made the day prior. Ruggie had looked like a bloated balloon about to pop by the end of the day, though he certainly wasn't alone in that respect. Several students remained in the many different unoccupied rooms in Ramshackle following the feasting, Ruggie included.

Honestly, you were surprised when he began to weep upon eating a donut. It was odd to see the large fat tears rolling down his muzzle as he began obsessively shoving more of the fried sweet into his face, but his continued consumption told you he was happy. He ate until he was flat on the floor with his bloated belly on full display. Part of you wanted to scratch the little heart shape on his stomach, but your respect for the Gnoll kept you from treating him like a puppy.

Trey had been enthused with the donuts more than you expected and he was eager to help in every step of the process. From using the standing mixer- of which he begged Idia for his own- to helping you concoct the exact portioning of powdered sugar to water ratio for the glaze. With how happy the Kelpie was in the creation and consumption process, you vaguely began to consider Crowley's somewhat flippant question from earlier.

Perhaps you should take him up on teaching cooking classes. If all the ones who took the course were as willing to learn as Trey, perhaps it could be the start of something grand.

While you were lost in thought a soft light compelled you to open your eyes. Glowing on the other side of the room was a mirror, seeming to be shining from within. Something deep within your very soul urged and begged you to investigate, carefully wriggling from the Dragon's hold.

The only indicator that Malleus noticed your lack of warmth was the way he seemed to furrow his brow. Luckily for you, you had chosen a spot near the edge of the nest and didn't have to sneak across your nestmates. It vaguely intrigued you that you managed such a feat, as they had previously been woken by very little in the past. Perhaps it was your innate tallent to sneak away despite being entangled, or perhaps something more were at play.

As you approached the mirror, a soft whispering of many voices could be heard. It hummed and murmured words too low for you to understand and seemed to only intesnify as you got closer. When your hand reached out to touch it, the whispers fell silent leaving you in the quiet room once more.

You only somewhat noticed the movement in the corner of your eye, so dazzled by the mirror you almost missed the translucent figure floating next to it. The figure had a gaunt look to it as it was skinny and ethereal floating before you. Despite the oddity of its presence, you didn't feel afraid of it. If anything, the specter seemed to be Human.

Beckoning, the silent being floated backwards and away from you, encouraging you to follow the insistent gestures. A faint voice hummed in your mind as the spirit phased through the door.

'P l e a s e . . . T h e r e i s m u c h t o b e s a i d.'

You were hesitant and cautious, but this image of a Human in a world where Humans were extinct was rare. If there was a chance this thing was Human, or once was Human, you had to at least try to investigate it. Maybe they could help you get home without the monsters following suit.

Stepping lightly- oddly silent in the old creaking dorm- you followed the beckoning spirit.

The being led you to an old forgotten storage room across Ramschackle. Despite the unkempt look of the room it was void of all dust and incredibly cold. It was there two other spirits appeared, one was oddly small and difficult to see from how faded it was, barely visible among the many boxes. Last was a large spirit that was surprisingly opaque despite the ghostly appearance of the other two.

"What'dya know? A Human. You're actually... I thought we were all gone."

The largest of the spirits hummed out, a deep voice they kept low to minimize the sound they made. They looked so Human and yet the see-through appearances of the first two led you to believe they were dead. You didn't know actual spirits were a thing, but then again this world was quite different from your own.

"Sorry for frightening you," the first spirit spoke in a reedy whisper, "but I couldn't risk them noticing. It is hard to find a moment alone with you."

"Unfortunately, I rarely get to be alone these days."

"We've noticed. We're Human- well, we're what's left of the Humans that lived on this world. We want to help you. You're a lot like us, but something tells me you're not from here. Even so, you have the same aura as us."

"Aura?"

The three ghosts nodded, the room around you suddenly going pitch-black. A soft glow came from the spirits and the second moved around you, covering your eyes with their transparent hands. Through their fingers you could see a similar glow coming from yourself.

"Something spirits can see about other spirits. Through a spirit, the living can see it as well. All Humans have this aura and it seems to magically impact the other species."

"I thought Humans didn't have magic?"

"We don't. We have something else, kind of like a natural armor or defense instead of magic. The way it impacts magic users is stronger than any of them realize. It's how we knew you were a Human for sure."

"Wait, I'm not from this world, why do I have this aura too?"

"We don't know. I think your world came from ours, or you somehow did. Not sure. All I need to know is you have somewhere to go back to. You shouldn't stay in this world with them, and we are willing to help you find home again."

You somewhat perked up at this, glad to hear the spirits intended to help you. The largest of the spirits gestured the mirrors.

"We can look around the different mirrors and see if one can send you back, but it takes time. We don't want to risk being seen."

"I wouldn't want you all being discovered because of me."

"We've been here a while, we can hide well enough."

"... Will you let me know if you find anything?"

"The moment we find something, we will try to tell you. Still, it's nice to see one of us alive."

"I have so many questions for all of you, if you'll indulge me."

"We can try to answer your questions, but there isn't much time. Once the others notice your absence, they will search."

"How does this 'aura' act as a defense? Does it deter or encourage-?"

The sound of movement, fast and frantic, met your ear. No doubt the Dragon awoke and was less than pleased to discover you were missing from the nest yet again. Since you left Grim there- fully intending to double back for him if shown the way to escape- they no doubt took your absence as a grave concern. You couldn't let them find the Human spirits.

Without another word you ducked out of the room, closing the door behind you as you turned towards where the sound had been. Frantically searching the various empty rooms was Malleus, his eyes glowing in the darkness as he glanced over another empty room. The floorboards creaked loudly beneath you, making his gaze snap over to you sharply, dark pupils expanding as they landed on your figure.

He was quick to approach you and examine your figure for any injury. When he saw you were unharmed he breathed out a long sigh of relief, those same eyes locking on you as a pout took over his lips. You would have laughed at the almost innocent look of displeasure but something told you Malleus would not appreciate the act very much. It was odd to think about, but Lilia told you during the feasting about Malleus and his proclivity to possessive behavior.

According to Lilia, all Dragons obsessed over their Hoard, to the point of violence towards others. Hoards were exclusive and built upon the personal taste of the Dragon, guarded as greedily as treasures and jewels. You were more prone to wandering than the other members of the Hoard and it distressed the Dragon to know you could wander off from his protection so easily.

"(Y/n), why must you insist on disappearing at all hours of the night? It was my understanding that most creatures are not nocturnal."

"Sorry, Tsuno, I couldn't sleep. Nightmares again..."

His hard expression softened at this, seeming more understanding with your vague explanation. The pair of wings lowered as he calmed and took in your relaxed presence, relaxing as well. Truthfully, he struggled to remain displeased with you and felt compelled to forgive as soon as he understood you were safe.

"I often find my own sleep to be restless most nights. It has been somewhat better, having my Hoard around me almost every evening thanks to you, but I too struggle with rest. You are always welcome to wake me if you cannot sleep. What were you doing this far into the dorm and away from your room?"

You avoided the question somewhat, instead trying to steer the conversation a different direction. Hopefully Malleus wouldn't press the issue as you had no desire to share your new secret with anyone just in case.

"Exploring to quiet my mind. Are all Fae nocturnal?"

"No. There are Night Fae and Day Fae. Lilia, Sebek, and I are Night Fae. Sebek is half-Fae technically, but still Night Fae all the same. Night Fae are typically nocturnal."

"... Tsuno, can we sit somewhere? Somewhere quiet, or even the roof would be fine, it feels too stuffy in here."

You were surprised when Malleus lifted you quickly, exiting the large window nearby. A startled cry escaped your lips in a squeak which only made the Dragon chuckle, carrying you up to the roof of Ramshackle with several beats of his wings. Sometimes you forgot Malleus was not Human and even forgot he was considered one of the most powerful in the world.

The Dragon hesitantly set you down, hands struggling to release you now that he was acutely aware of how high up you both were and how fragile you were compared to himself. His tail raised up to somewhat act like railing around you, ensuring there was no way you could fall as you both sat. It felt excessive for him to be so protective of you, but he still seemed much calmer now.

On the horizon, light slowly began to seep into the sky as the sun started the long tireless treck across the sky once more. Something about this place seemed so keen to wake you before the sun. As the stars flicked out of sight one by one, your nightmare from what feels like ages ago caressed the edges of your mind.

Your survival hinged upon staying around the monsters that were fond of you, but you needed to be alone to talk to the Human spirits without exposing them. A present need to be protected at all times yet what you truly wanted was kept at bay by that same protection. Freedom in a world that both cherished and despised you was a laughable concept.

Of course, this was also not to mention how none of your protectors seemed particularly mentally sound. Even the noble Malleus had this obsession to him, but then again it could just be the fact he is a Dragon. The words of the ghosts echoed in your mind as did the questions you were desperate to ask. Perhaps the reason these monsters acted the way they did was because of that aura the ghosts mentioned.

"Tsuno, how did you know I got up?"

"Your warmth lets me know you are alive and safe. Silver has a similar warmth, but many Fae do not have the same heat to them. The nest gets cold without you there warming it up. What I want to know is how you left the room without waking us. The doors and floors creak, you shouldn't be able to be so quiet."

You hummed, having wondered the same question. It was very likely that the ghosts of the past Humans have been aiding your escape from the nest. Truthfully, you had noticed how silent you had been while following the ghosts versus the loud floorboard creak when you approached Malleus.

"I don't know. I just got up and walked out. It didn't seem quiet to me-"

"MAMA!"

The sudden cry of a familiar voice had you sharply standing, Malleus following suit as your stress rised exponentially. That voice belonged to none other than Grim and it made your heart hurt horribly to hear the frantic wailing. Malleus was quick to grab you once more, ducking back into the window you came from.

You didn't even wait until Malleus had let you go before you wrenched yourself from his grasp and shot off down the hall. The crying continued and you almost threw yourself into the door to get to the sobbing kit. His paws covered his eyes and his wings smacked away Lilia's hands as the Bat was attempting to soothe him.

"Grim!"

"Mama!"

The Hellcat thew himself into your arms, snuggling and cuddling into your embrace as he sniffled and mewled pathetically. You were quick to hold securely to the little feline that hiccuped and sobbed.

"Grim, honey, what happened?"

"I w-woke- woke up, an-and- and you were- you were gone!"

"I'm sorry, sweetling. I had a bad dream and Tsuno was talking to me. We didn't want to wake any of you."

The kit sniffled, looking up at you with those large blue eyes as he pressed his cheek against your chest. His fur was fluffed and his eyes were swollen with tears as he used his small paws to grab your hand and rub against your fingers. You quickly picked up that he wanted to be pet, stroking the soft gray fur of his little head.

"So- so you're not- not leaving? Y-you're not ab-abandoning me?"

"No. I would never abandon you. If I planned to leave, I'm taking you with me. No way would I ever leave you behind like that. Never."

"Ne-never ever?"

"Never ever."

This seemed to be enough to soothe the sniffling Hellcat as he hiccuped and sniffled, cuddling into your warm arms and slowly quieting. As Grim calmed, you began to calm as well, cradling the little cat affectionately. Lilia cast a quick glance at Malleus, the two speaking with their eyes before he looked back at you, approaching slowly to not seem like a threat to you or your young Hellcat.

"He was frantic when he couldn't find you in the nest," Lilia started, peaking over at the kit, "I figured you were with Malleus, but he wasn't hearing any of it."

You just let the bat speak as you continued to soothe Grim, kissing the kit's forehead. This made Grim slowly begin to purr, rubbing up against your hand affectionately. Even if you did find a way to escape with the help of the Spirits, you planned to always bring Grim with you. He was your Boy and you were his Mama, nothing could change that.