#tw: police detectives | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

enjakey · 15 days ago

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이럼 안돼 don't touch, don't do it

PAIRING: cop!sunghoon x criminal!fem!reader

TW/N I 10k- smut so MNDI | cop au, neighbours au, rich man au l Sunghoon is a bit obsessed with Y/N and a bit manipulative but he’s still a good person | I tried the daddy-fication of sunghoon but I don't think it worked I don't think I have a daddy kink guys 😭 | l wrote smut guys, idk if it's good. When I wrote it, it made sense but the more I read it the weirder it got Imk how yall like it | I've been writing this since they debuted these fits bro HOW ARE THEY SO BIG | Heeseung is mentioned

SMUT TAGS: masturbation (m), oral (fem receiving), fingering, nipple play, p in v (no protection, wrap it before you tap it queens), creampie (ig??)

SUMMARY: A detective falls for his beautiful neighbour, a kind kindergarten teacher- only to discover she’s a drug holder hiding secrets in their swanky apartment building. But when love and loyalty clash, how far will he go to protect her… even if it means betraying the badge?

Park Sunghoon had never wanted an ordinary life.

Even as a kid growing up in Seoul, he’d been the one asking too many questions, staring a little too long at strangers, trying to piece together the puzzle of who they were and what secrets they might be hiding.

While other kids played video games, Sunghoon devoured detective novels, captivated by the thrill of solving what no one else could see. The idea of finding the truth- no matter how dark- set a spark burning in his chest that never went out.

His parents didn’t share the same enthusiasm. They wanted him safe behind a desk, in a respectable office job, not out chasing criminals through alleyways or risking his life in drug busts. They worried about the danger, the long hours, the toll it could take on his body and mind.

But Sunghoon couldn’t picture himself anywhere else.

He put himself through the Police University, graduating near the top of his class. It wasn’t easy. The physical training was brutal, the academic work relentless. But he thrived on the challenge. The more demanding the task, the more determined he became to prove himself.

When he made Detective, his parents finally accepted that this was his path. Especially when they saw how much he loved it.

Because Sunghoon didn’t just like being a detective. He lived for it.

He loved the rush of following a trail no one else noticed, the satisfaction of snapping puzzle pieces into place, the silent pride of bringing dangerous people off the streets. And, perhaps most of all, the power of protecting people who couldn’t protect themselves.

Years of hard work paid off. By his early thirties, he’d climbed the ranks to Detective Sergeant, leading high-profile investigations into narcotics and organized crime. His instincts were sharp, his case-closure record impressive. He’d earned respect in the department- and enough salary to afford the sleek, high-rise apartment where he now lived.

On paper, Detective Sergeant Park Sunghoon was exactly where he’d always dreamed of being- successful, respected, and at the top of his game.

He just never expected the biggest puzzle of his life would be the woman who lived right across the hall.

It started with an elevator ride- Sunghoon was on his way to work. Briefcase in hand, the other stuffed in his pocket, he leaned against the metal wall of the elevator, music flooding his ears. For the past month, nothing interesting had come out of work. The city had been quiet- a bit too quiet.

Before the doors could shut, she’d come running towards him, waving frantically to hold the lift, please. And Sunghoon barely heard her but he was swift- he slid his hand between the opening and let the doors slide open for her. Shyly, she thanked him, hands clasped in front of her, dressed somewhere in between formal and casual- Sunghoon didn’t know the word for it.

He’d never seen this girl before. And it came more as a shock to him when he realised she lived a few doors down from him- two doors opposite of his, the last one in the hallway, to be precise. As more time passed, the more their mornings seemed to align. They’d open their doors at the same time to leave for work, Sunghoon drove down the same road Y/N walked down to reach her place of work- she was a kindergarten teacher- and they both went to the same grocery store on the weekends.

He knew this because once, they’d accidentally bumped their carts into each others’ while exploring the cereal aisle and awkwardly laughed at each other- familiar enough to know that they lived in the same building together, not familiar enough to exchange words.

But after that, Sunghoon tried to make himself more familiar with her.

Y/N was her name- he learnt that after asking the door man, who didn’t even hesitate to give him, a cop, the piece of information. And for the next few days, he’d utter the name under his breath to familiarise himself with it- the way it rolled off his tongue with ease, the way it suited her more than any other name he could fathom.

And in those elevator rides, quiet and still hovering with awkwardness, Sunghoon would observe her, examine her, admire her. It was the way she never looked tired in the mornings, though Sunghoon did most of the time- whether it was because he was on his way to the gym or to work. And it was the way her clothes seemed to fit her so perfectly, the way her hair was always perfectly styled and fell over her shoulder. And every morning in the elevator, she would pass him a curt nod and then look ahead like he didn’t exist.

Sunghoon came to dread weekend mornings- it meant he wouldn’t be able to see her in the elevators, wouldn’t get that simple nod of acknowledgement from her, couldn’t mark his mornings with the sight of her fresh face and light smile resting on her glossed lips.

Then, he started getting off work early- purposeful and calculated. It took a while to figure out but eventually, he’d just asked the doorman again and he told him that she came back home around 3pm everyday.

So, the next day, at around 3pm, Sunghoon waited near the elevator, praying that Y/N would grace him with her appearance.

And she did, with her arms filled with a stack of papers almost comically thick, trying her best to not let them fly away. She greeted the doorman with a respectful smile and bow and scurried her way to the elevator- to Sunghoon, where he stood, waiting for her, when the elevator doors opened at the perfect timing.

“Do you need help with that?” Sunghoon asked her, cooly, swiftly, as though he hadn’t been rehearsing it.

Him, a cop, a sergeant detective, had to rehearse how to talk to a girl- he wasn’t sure how to feel about himself. But he didn’t care.

Y/N, ever so focused on carrying the papers, which seemingly were filled with children’s drawings, looked up at him with raised brows and parted lips- surprised. And she watched as he pressed the button to their floor and moved his hands towards her, the papers she was holding, and held the bundle with one hand with ease, the other holding his briefcase.

“Thank you,” she mumbled to him, utterly defeated by his kindness, blinking up at him like she was looking at him for the first time- sharp features, welcoming smile and thick strands of hair that fell over his eyes.

“You’re a kindergarten student?” He asked, hiding the fact that he already knew.

“Yes,” she nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “And you?”

“Detective sergeant,” he answered proudly and didn’t fail to miss the falter in her expression- the way her smile froze for half a second, eyes darting away before she caught herself.

But Sunghoon didn’t think much of it- most people had that reaction, he realised. It was an instinctive mix of caution and unease, that momentary tightening in the shoulders, the subtle shift in their gaze. The badge on his belt carried weight, even when hidden beneath a suit jacket.

To him, it was normal. To everyone else, it was a quiet reminder that the law was always watching.

“I know I don’t look it,” he offered as a joke, sharp teeth peeking from behind his lips in teasing.

Y/N soft expression came back, eyes wrinkling as she brought her hand up to hide her giggle. “I knew we had a cop living in the building. Just didn’t think it was you.”

“Now you know,” Sunghoon shrugged.

The elevator door spinged open and the pair stepped out. Meekly, she reached towards her pile of papers- the drawings her students made with so much care and enthusiasm, despite their lack of talent and hand-eye coordination.

And he handed it to her, the tips of their fingers brushing- it sent jolts of electricity through Sunghoon and he reveled in it. He didn’t want to deny himself of it.

“Thank you for keeping us safe,” she bowed to him- a sense of respect and caution- before walking away towards her door.

And Sunghoon stood back and watched, stunned by their interaction. He’d read the interaction from a completely different light than she- Sunghoon thought he’d made his flirting evident.

Over the next few days, Sunghoon made it a point to leave work early.

It was a sudden change that left his team blinking in surprise and quietly celebrating the unexpected gift of shorter shifts. Detective Sergeant Park was known for staying late, stubbornly glued to his desk long after everyone else had gone home, but now he was practically racing the clock to leave on time. And every afternoon, like clockwork, he managed to catch Y/N just as she stepped into the elevator on her way home.

Their conversations were always the same. He’d greet her with a polite, “how has work been?” And she’d offer a soft, careful smile and reply, “good. What about you?”

They rarely ventured beyond those simple exchanges. Sunghoon might elaborate a sentence or two about his day, and Y/N would give a quiet hum of acknowledgement, always polite but distant, as though she were determined to keep a safe buffer between them. It should have been harmless- a neighborly routine. But the truth was, Sunghoon found himself craving these moments far more than he ever intended.

At first, he convinced himself it was just curiosity. He was a detective, after all; it was his job to observe, to notice the details other people missed. But curiosity had a way of creeping into obsession, and one night, Sunghoon found himself sitting alone in his apartment, still wearing his dress shirt and tie, staring at the blank wall across the hall where her door stood closed and silent. He tried to shake it off, tried to remind himself that she was just a neighbor and that he was reading too much into things. But he couldn’t stop thinking about how Y/N refused to indulge him in more information about herself.

The next day, long after the precinct had emptied out, Sunghoon stayed behind. His finger hovered over the keyboard for a few seconds, battling with the quiet voice of his conscience. Then he gave in, logged into the department’s secure database, and typed her name.

The screen flickered as the system pulled up her records, and in an instant, her life unfolded before him in cold, precise lines of text- her full name, national ID, place of birth in a small town hours outside Seoul, her parents’ names and current address, her school history, and a clean criminal record.

And then he saw her salary.

Sunghoon stared at the figure, frowning. It wasn’t terrible, but it was nowhere near enough to cover rent in a building like theirs- not unless she was spending every last won on housing and living off instant noodles.

Even that seemed unlikely.

For a long moment, he sat there in the dim glow of his monitor, replaying every seemingly innocent detail he’d noticed about her over the past weeks.

He thought about how Y/N never wore designer clothes like so many of their neighbors. Her wardrobe was always simple- neat blouses, soft cardigans, plain skirts in gentle colors. He remembered how her grocery bags were always small and light, never crammed with the expensive brands and imported snacks he saw other tenants buying. There were no impulse luxuries in her cart- just bare essentials like rice, eggs, and milk. And he thought about how she didn’t own a car. Until now, he’d assumed it was a personal preference, maybe an eco-friendly choice for someone who worked with children. But suddenly, he couldn’t shake the suspicion that she simply couldn’t afford it.

Worst of all, he kept remembering the way her eyes flickered, just for the briefest second, when he said, “Detective Sergeant.” That tiny pause, the split-second stiffening of her shoulders- it hadn’t meant much to him at first. But now, it clawed at his mind like a warning he couldn’t ignore.

If she couldn’t afford her apartment on her salary, then someone else had to be paying for it. But who? And why?

Sunghoon leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming anxiously on his desk, as his detective instincts kicked in, cataloging possibilities. Maybe she had a secret inheritance, but that seemed unlikely given her parents’ modest background. A wealthy boyfriend? He’d never seen any man visiting her apartment. Debt? That wouldn’t explain who was covering her rent. Or- an unsettling possibility twisted in his gut- was she involved in something illegal?

He wanted so desperately to believe she was just a sweet, hardworking teacher who lived a simple life. But Sunghoon had seen too much in his years on the force to ignore the possibility that sometimes the most ordinary faces hid the darkest secrets. And as he sat there, the weight of his discovery pressing down on his chest, one thought refused to leave him:

What was Y/N hiding?

The following weekend, Sunghoon called in sick to work, mumbling some half-hearted excuse about feeling unwell. It wasn’t entirely a lie- his head did feel scrambled, his chest tight with a restless, obsessive energy he couldn’t shake. But it had nothing to do with a virus or a fever.

It was because of Y/N.

So instead of resting, Sunghoon spent nearly all of Saturday posted right inside his apartment doorway, a chair dragged close enough that he could lean forward, pressing his ear against the wood. He sat there for hours, listening intently for any sounds from the hallway, straining to catch even the faintest whisper, the softest shuffle of footsteps outside.

Saturday morning passed uneventfully. The building was quiet, the only noises drifting through were the occasional thump of someone’s vacuum cleaner, a child laughing two floors up, and the distant hum of traffic far below. By afternoon, Sunghoon was starting to feel foolish. His muscles ached from sitting so long in the same position, and he was growing bored, losing hope in the theory that Y/N was involved in anything illegal.

A huge part of him felt relieved. Maybe there was an innocent explanation for how she could afford to live in such an expensive apartment. Maybe she really was just a sweet, hardworking kindergarten teacher with no dark secrets lurking behind her gentle smile.

But as evening fell, the quiet shifted.

Somewhere around seven o’clock, Sunghoon heard footsteps in the hallway- soft, deliberate steps that didn’t match any of his neighbors’ usual patterns. They were heavier than Y/N’s light tread but more cautious than the confident strides of the businessmen who lived on their floor. The footsteps approached, and Sunghoon felt his pulse spike as he heard the subtle click of a key sliding into Y/N’s lock.

He shot upright, adrenaline surging through him.

A moment later, Y/N’s voice carried into the hall, soft and cautious.

“Come in, come in!”

Peering through the slim crack of his door, Sunghoon caught a faint glimpse of her silhouette standing at her doorway, her posture slightly nervous, her hands fidgeting as she stepped aside to let someone enter. The figure who brushed past her into the apartment was a man- taller than Y/N, wearing dark clothes, his face half-obscured by the shadows spilling across the hallway. Sunghoon barely caught the sharp line of a jaw, the gleam of something metallic at the man’s wrist, maybe a watch.

And then the door shut with a soft thud, swallowing them into silence.

Sunghoon stood frozen in the threshold of his own apartment, heart hammering so hard he could hear it in his ears. Every instinct screamed that this was the moment he’d been waiting for- that he wasn’t crazy, that there was something more to Y/N than sweet smiles and pastel sweaters.

He clenched his fists at his sides, fighting the sudden urge to storm across the hallway and demand answers (what answers? He wasn’t her boyfriend yet to accuse her of adultery and he had not enough proof to accuse her of illegal activity). Instead, he forced himself to close his door softly, leaning his back against it as he stared at the ceiling, trying to steady his breath.

Half an hour later, Sunghoon was still standing near his door, tense and silent, every nerve on edge. He kept replaying the image of the man slipping into Y/N’s apartment, trying to memorize every shadowy detail- the broad shoulders, the dark clothing, the quick, almost furtive way he’d moved past her.

Then, suddenly, Y/N’s door clicked open again, the quiet sound echoing through the hushed hallway.

A string of small, hushed voices spilled out into the corridor- soft mumbles of polite farewells, fragments of words like “thank you,” and “see you tomorrow.” Sunghoon held his breath as he edged his door open just a few centimeters, peering through the narrow slit.

The man emerged first, stepping into the hall with quick, purposeful strides. In his hand, he now carried a black bag he hadn’t been holding earlier. It wasn’t anything overtly suspicious- a simple duffel, the kind a person might take to the gym- but the sight of it made Sunghoon’s gut twist. The man didn’t look around as he headed for the elevators, his expression unreadable, eyes focused straight ahead as though determined not to acknowledge anyone who might be watching.

Behind him, Y/N lingered in her doorway, one hand gripping the edge of the door frame, offering a polite smile that seemed just a little too practiced.

“Goodnight,” she called softly and clicked her door shut.

The man gave a short nod without turning, and within moments, he disappeared into the elevator, the doors sliding shut with a quiet hiss.

Sunghoon stood frozen, staring at the empty hallway, his mind spinning faster than he could control.

Why did that man suddenly have a bag? What had been inside Y/N’s apartment that he needed to carry out? And why was Y/N- the gentle, soft-spoken kindergarten teacher- mixed up with a man who slipped away like he was avoiding being seen?

By Sunday evening, Sunghoon was practically vibrating with restless energy. He hadn’t left his apartment all weekend except to crack his door open and press his ear against it whenever footsteps echoed in the hall. Part of him felt ridiculous, spying like a jealous lover, but the other part- the detective part- couldn’t ignore the gnawing certainty that Y/N was hiding something.

So when the same man returned that evening, carrying the same black bag and arriving almost to the minute as the night before, Sunghoon felt both vindicated and deeply uneasy. He watched through the sliver of his door as Y/N opened hers with that same practiced gesture, stepping aside to let the man in. She was smiling, but there was tension in the set of her shoulders, as if her entire body were braced for something she couldn’t control. Half an hour later, the man was leaving again, only this time the bag was nowhere in sight.

Sunghoon decided that tonight, he wasn’t going to simply watch from the shadows.

The moment Y/N’s door cracked open again and the man stepped into the hallway, Sunghoon swung his own door wider, pretending to be in mid-stride, keys in hand like he was on his way out. Y/N and the man both froze, eyes wide, expressions caught somewhere between surprise and unease. But just as quickly, their faces smoothed back into normalcy, masks snapping into place.

“Oh, Y/N,” Sunghoon said, approaching with measured steps, his voice warm but edged with curiosity. “Nice to see you.”

Y/N tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and offered a bright, practiced smile.

“You too. How are you? No work today?”

“Ah, I wasn’t feeling too well, actually,” Sunghoon replied, letting out an exaggerated sigh as he rubbed his temple. “Headache.”

“Oh, uh… do you need anyth- ”

But Sunghoon cut her off sharply, shifting his gaze toward the man who lingered beside her.

“Who’s this?” He asked, tilting his head slightly, as though trying to place a familiar face.

Y/N hesitated, just for a second- a small hitch in her breath that only someone like Sunghoon would catch. He felt the electric thrill of knowing he’d cornered her, even if only slightly. He could see the calculations racing behind her eyes. Y/N was smart enough to know that by now, Sunghoon had begun to suspect something. She would also know how good he was at detecting lies- she’d told him once she’d fallen down an internet rabbit hole researching him after he’d revealed his job.

Sunghoon waited, silently daring her to slip. He was expecting a lie- and he’d know if it was a bad one. He already knew almost everything about her. Everything he needed to.

Y/N cleared her throat lightly, then reached out and patted the man on the shoulder.

“Oh, he’s my high school friend,” she said smoothly.

The man cracked a confident smile, nodding. “Yes. High school friend.”

Sunghoon narrowed his eyes to thin slits, studying them both. He knew it was a lie- but he had to admit it was a good one. If she’d claimed he was her brother, that would have been an instant giveaway; Sunghoon knew for a fact that Y/N didn’t have any siblings. But a high school friend… that was plausible enough to muddy the waters.

“Ah,” Sunghoon murmured, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he considered his next move. He debated asking the man’s name, but quickly decided against it. Pushing too hard right now would make his suspicions too obvious. Instead, he forced a polite smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yes,” the man- allegedly Y/N’s high school friend- nodded briskly, then stepped past Sunghoon and headed toward the elevator.

Sunghoon didn’t stop him. He turned slightly to watch over his shoulder until the man disappeared behind the closing elevator doors. Then he shifted his gaze back to Y/N, who was still standing there, her fingers twisting lightly around the hem of her sleeve as if waiting for him to say something more.

If Y/N was who Sunghoon now suspected she was, he knew she would have pieced it together by now- that he was watching her, that the detective across the hall was no longer just her friendly neighbor but someone who had begun to look for the cracks in her story.

Sunghoon felt the options swirling in his mind. He could investigate further, dig until he found enough evidence to arrest her- or he could play this differently. Use the situation to his advantage.

And as he looked at her standing there, eyes darting nervously across his features, Sunghoon’s lips curled into the faintest trace of his signature smile.

“We should go on a date.”

Sunghoon, as a servant of the law, knew he should feel sick for twisting a situation like this. Two things haunted the back of his mind like gnawing teeth: first, that he was refraining from investigating a suspicious woman; and second, that he was manipulating a woman he found irresistibly attractive into going on a date with him under the silent, unspoken threat of his badge. He knew it was wrong, that he was stepping over lines no detective ever should.

Yet, he couldn’t help himself.

It was something in the way Y/N looked at him, cautious and wary, as though she understood the unspoken rules of their new game. Neither of them said it aloud, but in their own ways, they both knew exactly what was happening- that this date wasn’t just a date, that there were secrets between them as delicate and dangerous as glass.

But despite the guilt simmering under his skin, Sunghoon took a sharp, almost perverse pleasure in it. He enjoyed watching her give in, watched her let herself be led, her eyes flickering with worry yet her body following him willingly. He enjoyed seeing her dolled up in a dress he was certain she’d bought just for tonight, even though she’d skimped on groceries for weeks. He enjoyed the way she hovered close as he played with his car keys, opening the door for her, helping her into the passenger seat, leaning in to fasten her seatbelt while his breath ghosted hot against the soft curve of her neck.

“Where are you taking me?” Y/N asked, her voice quiet and timid, as if she were stepping around invisible tripwires, afraid that one wrong word would trigger an explosion.

“You’ll see,” Sunghoon replied, grinning as he settled into the driver’s seat, his hands confidently gripping the wheel. He didn’t miss the way Y/N’s eyes darted down the length of his body, lingering on the crisp lines of his shirt and tie, the way his biceps flexed beneath the fabric whenever he turned the steering wheel.

He drove her to a high-end restaurant nestled in the wealthier end of the city, its sleek black interior accented with soft golden light that shimmered off crystal glassware and polished marble. Y/N seemed visibly uneasy as they stepped inside, glancing around as if searching for escape routes, clearly wanting to protest. But she swallowed her objections, knowing that to protest too much would be to reveal something she was trying desperately to keep hidden. So she followed Sunghoon to the table he’d reserved, perching on the velvet seat as if afraid to touch anything, letting him handle the menu without protest because she didn’t know what tasted good in a place like this- and because he clearly wanted to be the one in control.

Sunghoon ordered steak and pasta, pairing it with an expensive bottle of red wine, while Y/N nibbled at her food in tiny, hesitant bites. Of course, Sunghoon noticed. He watched every subtle movement of her fork, the way she daintily touched the edge of her lips with her napkin.

“You’re barely eating,” he remarked, his voice low but sharp enough to slice through her quiet pretense.

Her head snapped up, eyes wide.

“Sorry,” she stammered, shaking her head. “Just… a bit nervous.”

“What are you nervous about?” Sunghoon pressed, tilting his head slightly, studying her reaction the way he’d interrogate a suspect.

“Never dated a cop before.”

Sunghoon burst out laughing, throwing his head back, utterly charmed and amused because it was so far from the answer he’d expected.

“No need to be nervous,” he said, leaning forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush. “I’m here to keep you safe, aren’t I?”

For a moment, Y/N only stared at him, her eyes glassy, lips parted in silent confusion. She didn’t quite know what he meant, and Sunghoon could see her brain scrambling for the safest assumption. But she let herself believe, just a little, that Sunghoon might truly be offering protection.

When she didn’t speak, Sunghoon reached across the table, his fingers brushing the delicate bones of her hand.

“I want to get to know you,” he murmured. “I really do.”

“What do you want to know?” Y/N asked, her voice cautious, each word weighed before it left her lips.

Sunghoon grinned, his sharp canines glinting as he flashed the kind of smile that disarmed suspects in interrogation rooms. “What’s it like teaching kindergarteners?”

A knot seemed to loosen in Y/N’s chest at that, and she began to talk. She spoke about the children she taught, about the mischievous little monsters who made her want to tear her hair out, and the sweet angels who adored learning and followed her around like ducklings. She told stories about art projects gone wrong, about tantrums and lost shoes, and the occasional hellish parent who stormed into parent-teacher meetings breathing fire.

Sunghoon listened, genuinely engrossed. He knew some of those kids by name- their parents, to be specific. He’d either worked with them before or helped them handle a crisis. It was a wealthy neighborhood, after all, and everything was connected in one way or another.

Yet when it came time to talk about himself, Sunghoon remained cautious. He offered only vague glimpses of his work, speaking in generalities, avoiding any detail that might make Y/N panic. Instead, he shifted the conversation toward safer territory- his childhood, the younger sister he adored, the years he’d spent ice skating as a boy before giving it up to chase his dream of becoming a cop.

By the end of the night, Y/N had allowed herself to lower her guard just enough for real laughter to slip out, for genuine warmth to appear in her eyes. Not total trust, but enough that her smile no longer looked forced. On the drive back home, she didn’t pull away when Sunghoon rested his large hand on her thigh, his fingers warm and possessive against the fabric of her dress. And as they rode the elevator upstairs, they shared silent, loaded glances, each of them acutely aware of the dangerous undercurrent swirling between them.

When they reached her door, Sunghoon leaned casually against the frame, lingering, waiting.

“Good night,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “We should do this more often.”

“We should,” she agreed, offering a smile that might have been genuine- or might have been another carefully constructed mask. And perhaps, Sunghoon thought, it was a bit of both.

That night, Y/N didn’t kiss him. Sunghoon wanted to, badly, but he held himself back. He let her slip inside her apartment, closing the door gently behind her, leaving him standing alone in the hallway.

But when he finally crawled into bed, he fell asleep thinking of her. He couldn’t help it. The memory of her at dinner earlier that evening was too vivid, too intoxicating. His hand instinctively drifted downward, fingers curling around the growing hardness beneath the sheets

She had been sitting across from him, her lips wrapping around the fork as she took a bite of dessert. The way her tongue flicked out to catch a stray crumb, the way her doe eyes locked onto his as if she knew exactly what she was doing- it had driven him wild. And now, here he was, imagining that fork was something else entirely.

His grip tightened around his dick, his breath hitching as he began to stroke himself slowly, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through his body. He closed his eyes, letting the image of her take over. In his mind, it wasn’t a fork between her lips- it was him. Her mouth was warm, wet, and inviting, her tongue swirling around his tip before taking him deeper. He could almost feel the heat of her breath, the way her cheeks would hollow as she sucked him in.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his hips bucking slightly as he imagined her looking up at him with those innocent eyes, feigning naivety while she coaxed him closer to the edge. The thought alone was enough to make him groan, his hand moving faster now, the rhythm becoming more urgent.

He could see it so clearly- her lips stretched around him, her hands gripping his thighs for balance as she took him deeper, her eyes never leaving his. She would be so good at it, so eager to please, and yet there would be that hint of innocence in her gaze, as if she didn’t know the effect she was having on him. But she did, she had to know. No one could look at him like that and not know what they were doing.

His breathing grew ragged, his body tensing as he neared the edge. He could feel it building, that familiar pressure in his lower abdomen, and he knew he was close. In his mind, she was moaning around him, the vibrations sending shivers down his spine. Her hands were on his hips now, pulling him closer, urging him to let go.

“God, yes,” he whispered, his voice strained as he imagined her swallowing every last drop, her tongue lapping at him greedily as if she couldn’t get enough. The image was too much, and with a low groan, he came, his release spilling over his hand as he rode out the waves of pleasure.

For a moment, he just lay there, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch his breath. His mind was still foggy, the image of her lingering even as the reality of what he’d just done settled in. He should feel guilty, maybe even ashamed, but all he felt was a deep, aching need for more.

Because now, more than ever, he was certain- whatever secrets Y/N was hiding… he was going to be the one to uncover them.

The next morning, Y/N stepped into the elevator and felt her pulse spike the instant she saw Sunghoon already inside. He stood tall in his usual work attire, his trousers hugging the firm muscle of his thighs, the crisp white shirt straining ever so slightly against the breadth of his chest and biceps. He looked entirely too handsome for someone whose presence posed such a lethal risk to her carefully balanced life.

Y/N gave him a curt, polite smile, trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy, but Sunghoon simply grinned back at her the way he always did. Except now, there was something new between them- a charged understanding, a connection woven from secrets, lies, and stolen glances.

He leaned closer, so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath against the shell of her ear, and murmured, “you look beautiful today.”

Despite herself, Y/N couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. She knew she was playing a dangerous game, dancing on a knife’s edge, but part of her thrilled at the attention.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “You look good too.”

A fleeting look of triumph crossed Sunghoon’s eyes, and then the elevator doors opened. He strode out, heading toward the parking lot to start his day, while Y/N lingered behind, heart pounding like a warning drum in her chest.

As soon as Sunghoon’s tail lights disappeared, Y/N hurried out of the building and practically ran the few blocks to the café near her kindergarten. She risked being late- it didn’t matter, not compared to what she needed to do.

Inside the café, tucked into a shadowy booth near the back, Heeseung was waiting for her. He was the same man Sunghoon had seen slipping into her apartment two nights ago, and now his expression was tight with frustration, jaw set as he leaned forward across the table.

“You need to move out,” he said immediately, voice low but edged with urgency. “It’s not safe anymore.”

Y/N dropped into the seat across from him and wrapped her cold fingers around the coffee cup waiting for her. She knew he was right. Every part of her logical brain screamed that she needed to get as far away from Park Sunghoon as possible. But the thought of leaving- of severing whatever twisted connection had begun to blossom between her and Sunghoon- sent a cold dread spiraling through her stomach.

Because somewhere during that date, as Sunghoon had smiled at her with those sharp, predatory eyes, as he’d listened to her stories and brushed his fingers over her hand, Y/N had started falling for him.

“I don’t want to,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Heeseung’s glare sharpened, dark eyes glinting.

“I can easily stop paying rent for that apartment, you know that?” He threatened.

Y/N lifted her chin, a hint of defiance flashing across her features. “Who’s gonna stash your drugs for you then, huh?”

Heeseung fell silent, his mouth snapping shut at once. He stared at her, clearly torn between anger and grudging respect.

“I know how to handle this,” Y/N said firmly, pushing back her chair and standing.

But as she left the café and started the short walk to her kindergarten, she felt the lie settle like a stone in her gut. Because the truth was, her way of handling things had never involved loyalty to anyone except herself.

And if it ever came down to choosing between Heeseung and Sunghoon… Y/N already knew who she was going to choose.

Sunghoon took Y/N on more dates over the following weeks- quiet afternoons in cozy cafés, early morning rented bicycle rides through tree-lined park trails, and elegant dinners in restaurants where the chandeliers glittered like stars overhead. He never let her pay for anything; not a single won left her purse when she was with him. Whether it was coffee, movie tickets, or dinner for two, Sunghoon covered it all without a moment’s hesitation, as though he took pride in spoiling her.

It was probably around the third date that Y/N finally kissed him- they’d come back from a modest dinner, the air between them charged with unspoken tension. It happened as they stood on her doorstep, the warm glow of city lights casting a soft halo around her.

She’d leaned in, her movements tentative yet deliberate, her lips brushing against his in a kiss that was achingly gentle, almost shy. Sunghoon had been instantly obsessed. He couldn’t get enough of her mouth- the way it felt so impossibly soft against his, the faint sweetness of her breath mingling with his own, the way her delicate fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt as if she were anchoring herself to him. Even when she tried to pull away, her cheeks flushed and a nervous giggle escaping her lips, he’d caught her wrist and dragged her back in for another, deeper this time, his hunger for her impossible to ignore. The way she melted into him, her body pressing closer, only fueled his desire, leaving him craving more.

Everything seemed perfect- at least, on the surface. Their relationship grew into something that might have seemed genuine to anyone watching. But Y/N’s secret life continued unchanged. Her method of storing Heeseung’s product remained the same, except now he could no longer visit on weekends. She’d given him her spare key, instructing him only to come during the weekdays, when she knew both she and Sunghoon would be safely occupied at work.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, Sunghoon was still investigating her in the shadows, despite how natural and affectionate their relationship appeared. He kept quietly collecting information, determined to trace every thread connecting her to the local drug ring, wrestling each day with the conflict between his growing feelings for her and his loyalty to the badge he wore.

A few weeks later, it was career day at Y/N’s kindergarten- a day her students had been buzzing about for weeks. Each child was supposed to bring in a parent or family member to talk about their profession, and Sunghoon lit up the moment he heard about it. He insisted on coming, eager to introduce himself as the policeman Y/N was dating, and she hadn’t found it in herself to refuse. There was something sweet about imagining her students meeting him.

On the morning of career day, Sunghoon arrived at the kindergarten looking painfully handsome, dressed in a perfectly pressed shirt with his badge clipped to his belt. He crouched beside rows of tiny chairs, introducing himself with a wide grin and explaining in gentle, animated tones what it meant to be a detective.

“Sometimes, I help find people who are lost,” he said, making big hand gestures that made the kids giggle. “Other times, I solve mysteries. Like a real-life superhero.”

Y/N watched him from the side, arms crossed over her chest, biting back a smile as her class practically vibrated with excitement.

One little boy raised his hand and asked very seriously,

“Do you have a gun?”

Sunghoon paused, lips twitching as he tried not to laugh. “Yes. But it stays in my holster, because being safe is the most important part of my job.”

Another child asked if he’d ever chased a bad guy.

“Once,” Sunghoon admitted, eyes wide and conspiratorial. “But he ran slower than me, so I caught him.”

The kids erupted into cheers and applause, clapping their hands, utterly enthralled. Y/N felt a twinge in her chest as she watched him- he looked so natural with the kids, so effortlessly charming. She wondered, briefly, if this was what a normal life with him could look like.

But Y/N didn’t realize the predicament she’d unknowingly set for herself by letting Sunghoon anywhere near her workplace.

Because after career day ended, Sunghoon insisted on grabbing a coffee at a nearby café. It was the same café where Heeseung usually hung around- the same one he’d started making Y/N meet him at since it had become too risky for him to visit her apartment.

Panic coiled hot and tight in Y/N’s chest as she followed Sunghoon out of the kindergarten. She wracked her brain for an excuse to drag him somewhere else, but nothing came to mind that wouldn’t sound suspicious. So she kept quiet, trailing behind him with her eyes wide and anxious.

They stepped into the café, and immediately, Y/N’s gaze darted around the softly lit interior. And there, in a corner booth, was Heeseung- slouched over his phone, absently stirring melting ice in his cold coffee.

The moment they entered, Heeseung looked up and locked eyes with Y/N. A split-second of surprise flickered across his face, quickly replaced by cold calculation. Without missing a beat, he closed his phone, slipped from the booth, and exited the café as casually as if he’d simply gotten bored. He didn’t even spare Sunghoon a second glance.

Y/N’s heart thundered in her chest. She didn’t know if Sunghoon had noticed the brief exchange. Maybe he was too engrossed in flipping through the menu, his fingers trailing over the glossy pages. Or maybe he had noticed and was choosing not to mention it yet.

They’d gone grocery shopping together on a breezy Sunday afternoon when the sun hung low and gold outside the windows of the upscale supermarket near their building.

Sunghoon had suggested it so casually, saying he needed to restock his fridge, and Y/N had agreed, telling herself it was normal- just another thing couples did. But the moment they stepped inside, Sunghoon took control of the cart, one hand wrapped firmly around the handle as he guided it through the aisles with the confidence of a man who’d never worried about a price tag in his life.

“Okay,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at her with a grin. “Tell me everything you like.”

Y/N blinked at him, caught off guard.

“Everything I… like?”

“Snacks. Candy. Drinks. Anything you’ve ever wanted to try.”

Y/N hesitated, trailing a few steps behind him, feeling oddly exposed under the bright grocery store lights.

“No, it’s fine,” she murmured. “I don’t need anything.”

But Sunghoon was already steering them straight into the snacks aisle. He started plucking brightly colored packages from the shelves- imported chocolates in gold foil, novelty-flavored chips she’d only ever stared at longingly, matcha cookies, fruit gummies shaped like tiny peaches. He tossed each item into the cart without even checking the price, looking over at her with that mischievous glint in his eyes every time.

“These look good, right?” He said, waving a bag of truffle-flavored popcorn.

“Sunghoon, I don’t even know if I’d like that,” she laughed, trying to grab it back from the cart.

“So try it,” he insisted, gently batting her hand away. “If you hate it, I’ll eat it.”

She watched the pile in the cart grow higher and higher, feeling both giddy and embarrassed.

“I can’t afford all this,” she finally said, voice soft.

Sunghoon stopped pushing the cart and turned to face her fully, expression gentle. He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re with me,” he murmured. “I’ll take care of it,” he leaned closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Besides… what’s the point of money if I can’t spoil my girlfriend a little?”

Heat rushed to Y/N’s cheeks. She tried to protest again, a sense of guilt resting in her stomach, but Sunghoon was already back to tossing more snacks into the cart- fizzy Japanese sodas, tiny jars of imported fruit jam, and gourmet instant noodles that cost as much as a proper meal.

Later, as they stood in line at the checkout, Y/N lingered awkwardly to the side while Sunghoon handed over his sleek black credit card without blinking.

When they finally stepped outside, grocery bags rustling in his arms, he nudged her playfully.

“Next time, I’m buying you every flavor of ice cream in the store.”

And though Y/N tried to roll her eyes and brush it off, she couldn’t help smiling. For a fleeting moment, wrapped in Sunghoon’s attention, she almost let herself believe she could have this- him, the life he offered, and the simple joy of letting him grocery shop for her.

The two-month mark of their relationship was looming. Everything between them had settled into a rhythm that felt almost dangerously normal. Too quiet, too perfect for the reality simmering beneath the surface- a kindergarten teacher who hid drugs in her apartment, and a detective sergeant whose job was to lock people like her away.

Y/N had convinced herself it was fine to leave it unspoken. She wouldn’t bring it up if Sunghoon didn’t. Why risk unraveling the delicate thread of perfection she’d come to crave? She allowed herself to pretend, for just a little longer, that they were like any other couple falling in love.

But that fragile illusion shattered the evening of their two-month anniversary.

Sunghoon knocked on her door, and when Y/N opened it, she froze at the sight of the manila file clutched in his hand. Her name was scrawled across the front in bold letters that seemed to scream at her in the dim hallway light.

Sunghoon’s face was unreadable as he stood there, towering in her doorway, eyes dark and glittering like polished obsidian.

“I know who you are,” he said.

For a moment, Y/N couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Of course he knew. Deep down, she’d always known he’d find out. He was a detective, and she’d been his curiosity from the very beginning. But still- what was the point of the dates, of the laughter, of pretending to be normal? What had all of it meant if it came down to this?

“Sunghoon- ”

But he held up a hand, cutting her off, his voice as calm and steady as it was when reading someone their rights.

“I have two options right now,” he said. “I can do my job. Throw you in jail and shut down the entire drug ring you’re involved in.”

He paused, and in that tiny, trembling silence, Y/N thought she might die if he didn’t finish his sentence.

“Or,” Sunghoon continued, his voice softening just slightly, “you promise to be with me. And I can make all of this go away. You’ll be safe and free. The rest of them- Heeseung and everyone else- will go to jail. And I can protect you. No one will be able to hurt you.”

Y/N stared at him, heart pounding so violently she could feel it echoing in her throat. And the terrible truth was, she’d already known her choice. She’d known it even before he gave her the ultimatum.

She didn’t need to say a word. Sunghoon could read her answer in the way her eyes began to glisten, in the way her shoulders sagged as though in surrender. Because what else could she choose? The man she loved, who promised her a life without fear and hardship- or loyalty to a criminal world she’d only ever joined out of desperation for a little extra cash?

Sunghoon stepped closer, crowding her into the doorway, the file still clutched in his hand.

“It’ll just be you and me now,” he murmured. “No more secrets.”

And Y/N let herself believe him. Because despite everything, the lies, the manipulation, the dark line he’d just drawn between freedom and ruin- he was still the man who bought her snacks she couldn’t afford. The man who smiled at her in the elevator like she was the only person in the world.

She didn’t need to say it. He already knew.

With a sudden burst of desperation, she grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him inside. The folder fell from his hand, landing with a soft thud on the floor as she slammed the door shut behind them. Her lips crashed into his, hungry, urgent, and he responded instantly, his hands gripping her waist like he was afraid she might disappear.

His mouth was hot against hers, demanding, and she melted into him, her body pressing against his as if she could erase the distance between them. His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her closer, and she moaned softly into his mouth, the sound swallowed by his kiss.

He broke away just long enough to breathe her name, his voice rough. “Y/N…”

She didn’t let him finish. Her hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against hers. He helped her, shrugging it off and tossing it aside before his hands were on her again, sliding down her back to grip her hips. His touch was electric, sending shivers through her body as he pulled her flush against him.

She could feel the hard length of him pressing against her thigh, and a thrill shot through her. Her fingers traced the lines of his chest, feeling the muscles tense under her touch as she leaned in to kiss him again. This time, it was slower, deeper, and she could taste the hunger in him, the need that matched her own.

His hands moved to the hem of her dress, lifting it slowly, teasingly, until it pooled at her feet. She stood before him in nothing but her lace underwear, her skin flushed with desire. His eyes darkened as he took her in, his gaze raking over her body like he was memorizing every curve.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick.

She reached for him again, pulling him close as her hands slid down to unbuckle his belt. He let out a low groan as she freed him from his pants, his cock springing free, hard and ready. Her fingers wrapped around him, stroking slowly, and he hissed through his teeth, his hands tightening on her hips.

“Y/N,” he growled, his voice strained. “If you keep doing that…”

She smiled up at him, a wicked glint in her eyes. “What? You’ll what?”

In one swift motion, he lifted her off her feet and carried her to the couch, laying her down gently before climbing over her. His lips found hers again, hot and insistent, as his hands roamed her body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. He kissed down her neck, nipping at her skin lightly before moving lower, his tongue tracing a path between her breasts.

“You have no idea how long I've waited for this.”

She arched into him, her hands tangling in his hair as he took one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently before switching to the other. Her breath came in short gasps as pleasure coursed through her, her body aching for more. His tongue swirled around the sensitive peak, teasing and tugging until she let out a soft moan, her fingers tightening in his hair. He responded with a low growl, the vibration against her skin sending shivers down her spine.

He moved to the other breast, his lips capturing her nipple with the same intensity, his teeth grazing lightly before he sucked hard. She gasped, her back arching off the couch as a jolt of pleasure shot through her. His hands roamed her body, one sliding down to grip her hip while the other cupped her breast, his thumb brushing over the hardened peak he’d just abandoned. The dual sensations were overwhelming, and she could feel herself growing wetter with every touch.

“Sunghoon,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. “Please…”

He didn’t need to be told twice. His mouth left her breast, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her stomach, each one leaving a mark of his possession. She squirmed beneath him, her hips lifting instinctively as he moved lower, his hands spreading her thighs wider. His breath was warm against her inner thigh, and she could feel the anticipation building, coiling tight in her core.

When his tongue finally touched her, fingers holding her oanties to the side, it was like a spark igniting a fire. He licked her slowly, savoring every inch of her as if she were the most exquisite thing he’d ever tasted. She cried out, her hands gripping the cushions beneath her as he teased her clit with the tip of his tongue, flicking it lightly before swirling around it in slow circles. The pleasure was almost too much, and she could feel herself teetering on the edge, desperate for release.

“I’m close,” she gasped, her voice breaking as she felt herself teetering on the brink. “So close…”

He didn’t let up, his fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles inside her while his mouth continued its relentless assault. She could feel every stroke, every flick of his tongue, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. Her legs shook, her toes curling as the pressure inside her built to a fever pitch. She was so close, so close, but he held her there, on the brink of edge, drawing out the pleasure until she thought she might scream.

And then, with one final, firm suck on her clit, she shattered. Her body convulsed, waves of pleasure crashing over her as she came undone beneath him. He didn’t stop, drawing out her orgasm until she was trembling and breathless, her legs shaking around his shoulders. When he finally pulled away, he looked up at her with a satisfied smirk, his lips glistening.

He didn’t make her wait for more. He stripped off her panties and positioned himself between her legs, his eyes locked on hers as he pushed inside her slowly, inch by torturous inch. She moaned loudly, her nails digging into his shoulders as he filled her completely.

He began to move, his thrusts deep and deliberate, each one sending waves of pleasure through her body. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer as he buried himself inside her again and again. His name spilled from her lips like a prayer, each syllable trembling with need.

“You’re mine,” he breathed against her ear, his voice rough with possessiveness. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” she gasped, her body trembling as he hit that spot inside her that made her see stars. “Only yours.”

He kissed her fiercely, swallowing her moans as he drove into her harder, faster. His hands gripped her hips with a possessive intensity, pulling her closer with each thrust, as if he couldn’t get deep enough. She could feel the tension building inside her, coiling tighter and tighter, a storm of pleasure threatening to break. Her nails dug into his back, leaving faint marks as she clung to him, her body arching to meet his every movement.

“Sunghoon,” she gasped, her voice trembling with need. “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t.

His pace quickened, each stroke hitting that gummy spot inside her that made her vision blur. She could feel the heat pooling in her core, spreading through her limbs like wildfire. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, her heart pounding in time with the rhythm of their bodies. He leaned down, capturing her lips in another searing kiss, his tongue tangling with hers as if he wanted to consume her completely.

She could feel herself coming close, the knot inside her building to an unbearable peak. Her legs tightened around his waist, pulling him even deeper, and she let out a broken cry as the second wave of pleasure crashed over her. Her body convulsed around him, every nerve alight with ecstasy as she came undone. Wave after wave of sensation washed over her, leaving her trembling and breathless.

He groaned against her neck, his thrusts growing erratic as he chased his own release. “Y/N,” he growled, his voice rough with desperation. “I can’t- I need-”

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of their ragged breathing. “Please.”

With one final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside her, his body shuddering as he spilled himself with a low, guttural moan. She held him close, her fingers threading through his hair as he collapsed against her, his weight pressing her into the couch. For a moment, they lay there in silence, their hearts beating in sync, their bodies still connected.

He followed soon after, his hips stuttering as he spilled himself inside her with a low groan. He collapsed on top of her, his breath hot against her skin as they both struggled to catch their breath.

For a moment, they lay there in silence, their bodies still intertwined, the air thick with the heat of their shared passion. Sunghoon’s chest rose and fell against hers, his breath warm on her skin. He crawled back up her body, kissing her as he settled over her once more.

“You made the right choice,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

She smiled up at him, her heart swelling with something she hadn’t felt in a long time- hope. “I know.”

Sunghoon burned every last piece of evidence he had on her. He did it methodically, late one night in his kitchen, feeding pages into a metal waste bin and watching flames lick across her name until all that remained was blackened ash. Whatever files the precinct held were quietly erased, hidden beneath layers of bureaucracy that only a seasoned detective like him could navigate.

Meanwhile, Heeseung and everyone else tied to the drug ring were arrested in swift, targeted raids. Sunghoon had overseen the entire operation himself, never once mentioning Y/N’s name, ensuring she was invisible in the official reports. It was over, clean and final.

A few days later, Y/N packed up her apartment- what little she owned- and moved in with Sunghoon. His place felt impossibly spacious compared to hers, sleek and modern, filled with warm light and expensive furniture. It smelled faintly of his cologne and the fresh laundry he was meticulous about folding.

For the first few nights, she lay awake beside him, staring at the ceiling while he slept with an arm thrown across her waist, heavy and possessive even in unconsciousness.

It was a strange kind of freedom she’d bought for herself- a life where she didn’t have to hide, where no one knocked on her door asking for packages or money. A life where Sunghoon slipped her credit cards and told her to buy whatever she wanted, where he brought her coffee in bed and kissed her temple like she was the most precious thing he’d ever possessed.

But there was still a flicker of fear buried deep in her chest, a knowledge that the man beside her had rewritten the law to keep her safe- and that he’d do it again if she ever thought of leaving.

Yet every morning, Sunghoon would wake, press a kiss to her hair, and murmur,

“Good morning, baby.”

And Y/N would smile back, whispering her reply, letting herself pretend- for as long as she could- that this was all she’d ever wanted.

2K notes · View notes

moyazaika · 2 months ago

Text

have your cake (and eat it too)

yandere! L Lawliet (death note) x gn! reader

cw; L is his own tw, imposter syndrome, explicit nsfw, mdni 18+

genie's notes; yayyy commissioned piece for @ozzgin !!! thank you ozzy my beloved for giving me the opportunity to write about my man ♡ if this feels long that's bc it is LOL i was having sm fun writing it got to 4k words,, can you tell i'm bonkers for this guy,, nevertheless, i hope you enjoy reading as much as i did writing :D

“Take a picture,” you murmur. “It’ll last longer.”

“I know.”

You spare the man sitting besides you a quick glance. Despite the numerous dossiers emptied out onto the oak table before you, the detective’s attention is transfixed solely on you. Has been, for the past few hours.

“Ryuzaki?” You try again, hoping he’ll get the hint this time.

Stop fucking staring at me.

No such luck. He only tilts his head to the side expectantly and you wonder, not for the first time, whether he enjoys playing the fool, or if he’s just truly ignorant of your discomfort.

You don’t know which answer would be worse.

What you do know is that you can count on both hands the number of times you’ve been alone in a room with L. After all, it’s the exact same number of times that you’ve silently prayed for Kira to do you a favour and take you next.

The memory of the rest of the task force’s departure is still vivid. Yagami’s sympathetic smile. Matsuda’s shameless commiserations.

You can barely think. The sensation is strangely claustrophobic. Even now, you can feel the weight of his gaze settling over you like a burden.

With a weary sigh, you turn back to the pictures you’re thumbing through. All images of Kira’s most recent victims; their pale faces and milky eyes stare back at you with accusation. Months have passed without any sufficient leads and sure, you pull at loose threads when you can—but the mystery never quite unravels itself the way you hope for it to. There are no frayed edges. No loose seams.

Whoever this guy is, you can tell the smug son of a bitch takes pride in his work. Has you working overtime, too.

The wall clock across the room reads twenty minutes until five, but you didn’t really need to check the time to know that. With how high up you are, you can already glimpse the makeshift beginnings of dawn through the narrow gaps between Tokyo’s neon-lit buildings.

Screw this.

You’re going to cut your losses; already know you’re not getting any work done in these conditions. Better to mull over the details in the privacy of your own space—far from prying eyes.

You take the opportunity to flick through the pictures of civilian corpses once more, committing the details of the dead men’s faces to memory before finally tossing the alarmingly heavy file down onto the desk in front of you, where it lands with a resounding, strangely satisfying thud.

L doesn’t even flinch.

“I’m going home,” you announce, actively making an effort to avoid meeting the man’s eyes. Your chair scrapes against the floor as you stand, and the noise is unbearably loud within the otherwise silent room.

“So soon?”

You laugh at that. “It’s four in the morning, Ryuzaki.”

“Hm. So it is.”

“Time flies,” you shrug on your coat. “When are you going to leave?”

You ask out of politeness rather than any genuine curiosity. The question mumbled absently as you rummage around in your pockets for your hotel keycard.

You’re not from Tokyo. Just staying here for as long as the task force needs you to. Called in months ago from a nearby prefecture because of your stellar track record. You like to think you’re intelligent, and that Japan’s top minds recognised that about you. You suppose it doesn’t really hurt that you’ve got some connections to the national police force.

Though you’re glad to be trusted with the case, and happy to be here—you’ve never really cared much for the city of Tokyo itself. You miss the humdrum of the countryside; the constant chirping of cicadas hidden amidst tall blades of grass. A clear, blue sky unblemished by the fine points of soulless skyscrapers. Weaving through crowds without wondering whether one of them might be the mass murderer you’re hunting down.

L’s monotonous drawl snaps you out of your thoughts. Brings you back to exactly where you are right now and not necessarily where you’d prefer to find yourself, instead.

“I won’t.”

“You won’t?”

“Yes,” he repeats. Enunciates the syllables as if speaking to a child. No further clarification.

“I’m sorry.” You’re really not. “Are you seriously going to sleep here again?” You honestly don’t mean to sound disrespectful but the incredulity in your tone is difficult to mask. Much less in the presence of the world’s greatest detective.

The stories are true. You found them difficult to believe at first, but since then, you’ve confirmed the extent of L’s genius with your own observations. The man before you can function perfectly without any sleep for days on end. You remember the first time you’d left the office; come back the next morning to find L hadn’t moved an inch from where you’d left him last night.

Even still, it’s hard not to notice the prominent bags under his black eyes. The state of his clothes, all crumpled. The greasy, unkempt hair that frames his face. Despite his intellect, he’s still only human.

Even if it can be alarmingly easy to forget that.

“Why?” L asks blankly. “Are you offering me an alternative?”

Briefly, you think of the deputy director learning, come morning, that you’d left L to his own devices; The hard lines of disappointment marring his features. The disapproval in his otherwise polite gaze. He can’t be left alone. Something about being far too valuable, if you recall correctly. Or did he say vulnerable?

Regardless, you already feel like some charity case, even though you know that you’ve clawed your way to be here; called in favours and kissed the feet of men far beneath you. You deserve to be on the Kira task force as much as everybody else. Yet, you know what your answer will be long before you’ve even said anything.

Something tells you L knows, too. He’s never been the sort of man to ask questions that serve him no greater purpose.

Sometimes, you detest people like Matsuda for the ease with which they inhabit such unwelcoming spaces so boldly. The ability to exist so openly, without inhibition. But you detest yourself most of all, especially in moments like this where you’re burdened by the need to prove your belonging.

Well–

Are you offerring me an alternative?

–Shit.

“Yes.” you concede, not even bothering to look back at him as you reach to call for the elevator. Press the button with considerably more force than you should. “I suppose I am.”

You’re not nice. You’re certainly not charitable. But you are easy.

You spare him an exasperated glance over your shoulder when the doors finally slide open with a yielding sigh. From behind you, L makes no indication to move. You begin to doubt if he’s even heard you. Or, more specifically, whether he was ever really listening to begin with. His black eyes can feel so fucking vacant, sometimes.

“You coming?” you impatiently tap your foot against the carpeted floor as you hold the elevator open with narrowed eyes. “Or do I need to send you an invitation, Ryuzaki?”

“No need.” At that, L finally stands. He offers you one of his rare, private smiles; “I believe you already have.”

There are a couple of things you come to notice about L that day, when the ongoing investigation isn’t at the forefront of your buzzing mind.

It’s there, of course, because it’s difficult for any person to forget all of those dead faces; the list of unanswered questions growing by the hour—but the moment you slide your key into the lock and it turns with a satisfying click to open right into your little hotel room, it feels like a weight’s been lifted off your shoulders.

Take, for example, L’s penchant to be barefoot. He immediately steps out of his shoes the moment you kick the door shut behind you. Sinks his toes into the carpet (stained, and scratchy) with a blissful sigh.

You're choosing to ignore that.

Better not to drive yourself up the wall by paying attention to every little thing he does.

“Hungry?” you shrug off your coat and toss it onto the sofa.

“Sure.” And it’s not exactly a response, but you think this is the best you’re going to get from the man. Go rummaging through the fridge straight away, as you wave for him to take a sit in the tiny living room across from you.

“I know you have a sweet tooth,” The leather sofa crackles beneath his weight as he perches right on the edge, legs tucked up against his chest and his head resting over his knees sideways; so that he’s watching you in the kitchen. “So I’m cutting you a slice of some cake I made last weekend. Couldn’t finish it by myself if I tried.”

You eye him wearily as you set down the plates on the coffee table before the sofa, making sure to leave as much distance as is possible between the two of you when you sit down.

He sort of reminds you like a cat when he's like this, all curled up and comfortable. When he tries his first spoonful of sponge cake, he might as well start purring with delight. “This is good,” he mumbles between bites. “I didn’t know you could bake.”

“Yeah?” You impatiently drum your fingers against the armrest. “Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

The moment stretches for longer than it should.

You meet the detective’s eyes head on, find they’re as wide as saucers, staring back at you; and peering right inside. It feels downright voyeuristic and so fucking violating, the way you can feel him peeling back everything that you are to assess something nestled much, much deeper within.

You look away first, and the moment you do, you hear L hum approvingly—he sounds pleased, almost.

And though you know he would never seriously consider you competition, you still can’t shake the strange feeling that you’ve lost at something.

“No." L concludes. "No, I don’t think so.”

He sets his plate down on the table with a clink and you’re not surprised to find he’s already finished eating. All that remains is a single cherry; so violently red against the pale porcelain it sits on.

“Tell me,” He pinches the stem between his forefinger and thumb, and it’s the first reprieve you’re gifted from the weight of his calculating gaze; as his attention shifts to the sweet fruit he holds. “Why do you hate me?”

Shit, you realise your fingers are digging into the cracks in the leather armrest; flex your hand a few times before making an attempt to calmly fold them in your lap. Maybe because you make me feel like a fucking failure?

“I think you’re too smart for your own good.”

He gives that some thought. “As are you.”

It’s laughable, really. L is leagues above you in terms of intelligence. Prestige. Power. Who are you standing next to one of the greatest minds in the world? Who are you to deign that he recognises you?

You refuse to even recognise yourself.

“You don’t believe that,” you scoff.

“I do. I knew it from the moment you were first introduced to me.”

You pick up on something strange about the way he phrases it; the necessity of awareness required from both parties in a first introduction.

I'm losing it.

You shake your head, abandoning the tendrils of something akin to unease that had just begun to creep up on you. When else would he have first known you? It's a stupid thought. You’re not exactly the sort of person preceded by some magnificent reputation.

“Sure,” you decide to entertain him nevertheless, if only to see how far he’ll go. You wonder whether this is as close to gratitude as L can express, but is it for the hospitality or for the cake or for something in between? “And why was that, Ryuzaki?”

“L,” he corrects you. “Because even then, you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“And that’s what supposedly makes me a genius?” you scrunch your nose, “because I don’t like you?”

“So you insist on maintaining,” he drawls.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Did you know, detective,” L ventures thoughtfully, “your heart rate always spikes quite dramatically whenever you’re alone with me.” His black eyes flicker to meet yours as he breaks off the stem—pops the cherry between his grinning lips.

You dig your nails into the skin of your palm. Focus on the sharp sensations of precise pain; imagine the little indents of crescent moons that will litter your skin later on.

“Ah,” your voice is unfamiliar even to your own ears. “Is that so?”

He eats the stem next, and you notice, not for the first time, that the man's skin is so pale, it’s like a thin sheet has been stretched tight over brittle bones. You can easily trace the jagged lines of blue and purple veins that curl around and underneath his face.

L’s lithe fingers reach into his mouth where the dark stem sits between his teeth. You catch a glimpse of his tongue as he pulls out the stem, now damp, and examines it between his fingers; holds it up to the light.

It takes you a few moments to realise he must be admiring his efforts. Or, rather just observing them. You’re not really sure if L is capable of awe. Whether he cares for it, given how easily he earns it; must not mean much to him.

(You’ll find out later that he is capable of awe, though there are more important things he hopes to garner.)

The cherry stem’s all folded up on itself; he’s tied it into a knot with his tongue.

Instinctively, your eyes dart to his mouth. “I didn’t know you could do that,” you confess lowly. “Neat party trick, huh?”

And the moment you voice the thought, you wish you’d stayed silent. The curl of his lips is infuriatingly self-satisfied, as if he’s in on some grand secret you’re not quite privy to; it feels the closest L will ever get to outright mockery, yet even then, there is something you must have mistaken for sincerity in his gaze.

You’re not sure whether that makes you feel better, or worse.

“There’s a lot,” L confesses slowly, “that you don’t know about me.”

It doesn’t escape you that even something as simple as this sounds truer when L says it.

Later, the dishes have been cleared away and though you can barely keep your eyes open, you’re rummaging through your suitcase to pass him a new toothbrush because, you insist, you always carry spares. L admits he's never had to brush his own teeth before.

One hand on his jaw, and another curled around the brand new toothbrush you'd managed to dig out for him, you give him a reluctant demonstration.

You don't think he listens to a word you say; his attention seems to be focused elsewhere.

After his turn, you pad into the attached bathroom and brush your own teeth with the overhead lights switched off.

Tired, you don’t notice as you unscrew the lid of your old toothpaste that your own brush’s bristles are wet, whereas the toothbrush you’d handed to L is still unopened in its plastic packaging, left positioned neatly by the basin.

L is garishly tall.

It can be easy to forget that considering how often he’s hunched over a desk or curled up in a chair. When he stretches to yawn, his shirt rides up his abdomen, revealing a pale sliver of skin underneath. You avert your gaze. The last thing you need is to be caught staring.

“Take the bed,” you offer, already sinking into the loveseat's cushions.

L stares at you as he scratches his jaw. “I don’t sleep in beds.”

You don’t even want to begin deciphering that statement. You’re beginning to think this cryptic act is purposeful; that he gets off on being evasive. Out of reach.

You’re not even sure if he can see you, considering how dark it is in the room, but you put on your sweetest smile all the same. It feels vindictive and thrilling and you believe it’s the least he deserves.

“Well, cheers to trying new things, Ryuzaki.”

He says nothing in response, and even though he’s nothing more than a vague silhouette in the absence of light, you manage to make out the slowly way he climbs into the bed—crawls to the edge of the Queen bed that’s closest to your own spot. Pulls up the duvet to his chin, and lies on his side so he's directly facing you.

It’s unnerving. You wish desperately in times like these that you could click his head open like a purse and look inside; it's impossible to tell what he's thinking.

And then he starts talking.

Finally, there’s a lull in your conversation that stretches far too long.

You make no effort to salvage the exchange, relishing in its conclusion, and much to your relief, neither does your partner. It’s not necessarily that L’s bad company but it’s also not not that he’s impossibly infuriating to talk to. You just want to sleep. It's been a long fucking day.

You close your eyes, allowing a welcome silence to settle inside the stuffy room.

…

Then you try to ignore it.

…

You really, really do.

…

Much to your dismay, even your best efforts prove futile. The quiet doesn’t last nearly as long as you’d like.

“Ryuzaki,” In the face of overwhelming fatigue, all niceties are forgotten and honesty reigns supreme. “Why the fuck can I feel your eyes on me?”

“I can’t sleep,” he simply responds, in lieu of a proper answer.

You might’ve laughed if you weren’t so tired. Unlike him, you unfortunately do not have the seemingly inhumane ability to function properly without multiple consecutive nights of sleep. So, with a long sigh, you decide to let it slide.

Just one more time.

Then, with disapproval evident in your weary voice, because it would feel too much like accepting defeat to say nothing at all; “you know, normal people usually just count sheep.”

“Mm." The sheets rustle. "Sleep well.”

“...Thanks. You, too.”

Behind the heavy blackout curtains of the hotel room, the sky turns a soft, dreamy lilac.

Outside, some parts of Tokyo wake up to the mellifluous sound of morning’s first birdsong, and others take that as their queue to drunkenly stumble home in search of a warm bed to fall into.

On the busy streets dozens of stories below yours, the city moves as it always does. Vibrant and alive—though waiting with bated breath in anticipation of death; Kira the only constant in this new world.

You don’t even realise you’ve dozed off in the armchair; sleep is simply a welcome reprieve from such a long day. A privilege, and not the routine it used to be.

You dream of running away from something. Of simply falling through a solid floor.

Conversely, though he has taken your advice, L finds rest evades him.

Content with staying awake, he takes the rare opportunity to simply observe you from across the room, and it’s such a fascinating sight, to finally see you so at peace. You usually run on such a short fuse. Well-meaning, but difficult to deal with nonetheless. You like to be seen; hate to be stared at.

Aren’t you a charmer?

In the pale beginnings of dawn, he is a silent shepherd. He smiles at the thought, whilst gnawing on his thumbnail.

The sheep he counts all have your face.

You’re not sure what exactly it is that wakes you up, but it’s quiet when you do.

Even still, something causes you to stir, and before you know it, you’re pulled out of a sleep you hadn’t even realised you’d fallen into with bleary, blinking eyes that adjust to the dark and land on—

Nothing. A startling absence where L’s body should be.

The bed’s empty, and the crinkled duvet has been hastily tossed to one side. You notice that the warm glow of the nauseatingly yellow bathroom lighting spills out from behind the door, left open just a crack. It strikes you as strange, that the door’s not fully closed. You feel justified in looking in. Call it concern. Curiosity.

Does it really matter?

“Ryuzaki?” you venture, stepping closer. No answer. The silence is strangely more overbearing when you’re standing right in front of the bathroom door. With a hand resting on the brass knob, you decide to try once more. “Hey. L?” Silence, still and true.

It feels a lot like peering into Pandora’s box, when you inevitably do push the door open.

Look inside. And, huh—

There is L, hunched over the sink.

In one hand, he is holding what is unmistakably your underwear. You recognise the soft cotton instinctively, even though it’s balled up tight in his fist and he’s pressing the fabric against his nose; shuddering when he breathes in, languidly long and deep like a desperate smoker's drag of his last cigarette.

The lighting overhead casts sweeping shadows over his pale face, but despite the darkness the rest of his features are enshrouded in, you still manage to make out those black eyes; blown wide, wide open. Thick and heavy like eerily lucid, deep, dark pools of tar you can feel yourself getting sucked into.

His hand works at a methodologically steady pace. His breathing is perfectly controlled as he works at his cock with deft fingers. His tip is flushed a painful pink, leaks pre that’s been smeared down the shaft’s length. Between glimpses, you manage to make out prominent veins that eagerly pulse in response to his touch.

Proud. Heavy.

Hungry to sink into something far tighter than his fist.

—Your breath catches in your throat. It is impossible to look away.

The following moments are hazy, at best. Time seems to slow down to a crawl when the scene before you clicks into place, and the world moves in still frames after that; the last one lingering too long and imposing over the next.

You don’t remember saying anything, but you must have let a gasp slip past your parted lips. Stumbled backwards, perhaps. Some involuntary indication of your presence, peering in behind him.

Time fractures completely when L looks up; gaze snapping straight to meet yours in the mirror.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the reflection, looking so laughably petrified—clearly just having rolled out of bed. There is not a single thing to be said as he lets his black eyes wander, appraisal silent and shameless as he drinks in the state of you; all tousled hair and crumpled clothes and bare feet.

His hands work faster then. His movements grow jerkier, breathing shallow. Eyes flutter shut, finally looking away from you, as his grip on your underwear tightens—knuckles white from the sheer effort of holding on, refusing to let go and inhaling your scent—nose buried desperately deep in the dirty cotton. Pathetically fervent. Chasing that blissful high with a new vigour.

You have been taught by many a smart man to never go seeking answers to questions when you do not wish to face them.

And so, when you glimpse this stranger’s tongue dart out to wet his cracking, dry lips the exact moment they wrap around the shape of a familiar name—hear the syllables repeated with a devotion akin to reverence; something like prayer—the man shudders exactly when you do.

Comes undone just as you slam the door shut.

You’re standing there in what you think might be shock, with a shaking hand resting against the doorknob. You choose to focus on the way in which the hair on your arm stands on end. Because if it’s not that, it’d be the sound of the tap running.

The door swings open abruptly. The man breezes past you, and quietly crawls back into bed. Rooted to where you stand, it’s all you can do to turn over your shoulder and observe him.

He catches you staring, merely tilts his head to the side from where he’s settled into the sheets, a coy little lilt to his lips.

For the first time, you’re the one who doesn’t look away. Couldn’t, even if you tried. Stygian strands of hair fall over his eyes, the darkest black they’ve ever been. Despite the fact that it feels like you’re staring at a stranger, facing him is familiar, as it always is; like wading into a thick tar.

Viscous and heavy and clinging.

You might’ve missed what he said if you weren’t so hyper focused on his every minute movement. His words are barely above a whisper, after all, and carry a strange lilt—as if recited, almost. Like he’s reading a line; performing some private joke.

“Take a picture,” L smiles knowingly. “It’ll last longer.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere male #yandere male x reader #male yandere #tw yandere #yandere L #yandere L x reader #death note #l lawliet #yandere l lawliet #l death note #l x reader #commission

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scrybird · 2 years ago

Text

Hey so I wrote this months ago for a competition (which I lost), figured I might post it.

If you do read it I welcome the feedback.

Sorry if I missed any tags.

#writing #writeblr #detective #tw death #tw blo0d #police #cop novel

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svckmyballzfr · 28 days ago

Text

“I Know it’s over” Yandere Batfam x Neglected Maki Zenin!reader

Prologue - “The clan” chapter 1 , chapter 2, Chapter 3 TW|Death, neglect

you grew up in a clan, the Zenin clan. You had a sister that was given with the ability to see curses, you weren’t. You promised your twin sister you wouldn’t leave her no matter what even when the clan didn’t want you. What a liar you are.

Sun was setting and the clouds floated in the sky gently as if it were the sea and the shore. “Mai!! What’s the matter with you? Let’s go! Hurry up.” Small [name] said with her cheeks puffed as she turned to her little sister that was on top of the stairs.

“I’m afraid” Mai soft shy voiced replies

“Afraid of what?” Small [name] asked confused

“it’s them…” Mai puts her hands together

“Again?” Small [name] sighed and puts her hands on her hips looking down

“Alright I’ll help you out.”

The curse on top of the street light began to speak gibberish scaring the other sister.

[name] walks up the stairs and stops in front of her little sister “come one just close your eyes” [name] grabs her sister hand and runs with her down the steps and they continue to run on the brick street floors.

“If you can’t see them then it’s like they’re not even there.” [name] says as her sister makes a small noise while keeping her eyes shut letting her older sister guided her.

“Big sister don’t let go

“I won’t let go”

”you never will?”

“Jeez, give it a rest”

“You’ll never leave me behind?”

“Of course I won’t! After all we’re sisters.”

What a liar.

“Momma?” Small [name] shakes her mother’s body as Mai’s cries were cancelled out in her head in the background.

“Momma wake up.” some years later the small sisters were now in the care of the Zenin clan.

The Zenin Clan embodies the problematic values that arose from the noble status granted to them as a major clan. The Zenin clan values powerful cursed techniques above all else and rejects their own family members if they don't deem their power acceptable.

[name] was forced to work harder than her sister in order the please the clan with sadly didn’t work. No matter how much her small body worked for the clan she was always rejected and seen as a mistake.

One day [name] was called by the higher ups with of course her little sister following suit.

“[Name] Zenin?” “Yes.”

“Age?”

“11 years old”

“Well you are now no longer a Zenin anymore. You’ll be leaving soon to go to America.”

“Excuse me?”

[name] was soon sent out the room with Mai.

“Big sis y-you aren’t leaving me are you?”

“of course not Mai. I won’t leave you. No matter what these old farts say.”

Mai looks down and fidgets with her fingers.

“A-are you sure?”

“Yes I’m sure Mai.”

[name] walks and her geta’s clicked on the wooden floor and Mai follows suite.

[name] was now on a plane and she looks out the window with a frown.

“NO DON’T LEAVE ME [name] YOU PROMISED YOU WOULDN’T LEAVE ME! YOU’RE SUCH A LIAR!”

[name] only looks back at her sister as some members from the clan held her back as tears runs down her face.

“I’m sorry.”

[name] only sighed as she laid her head back in her seat.

When [name] arrived to the airport at Gotham City and there was a detective waiting for her.

“[name] right?” The man with the grey beard asked and [name] only stared at him.

“Not much of a talker huh?”

….

“Well I’m detective Gordon. You’ll be uh at my police station for a little while some people will check your blood…Uh do you know what I’m saying or..”

[name] knew what he was saying since she had learned some English in Japan but she chose to be quiet since she was kind of shy.

“Ok…” [name] said looking down.

“Good. Let’s go.”

She was then driven to the police station to stay for a little and her blood got tested and She was related to Bruce Wayne???

[name] had heard of him back in Japan but she never really paid that much attention to him but she knew her mother and him had a relationship.

“Mai and [name] look! That’s someone important to you two” Their mother said while cutting the twins hair.

The Tv played a broadcast of a gala in America. Gotham.

There he was. The billionaire Bruce Wayne.

[name] attention was soon distracted when Mai had begun to wipe her snot on her.

“Eh!” [name] hit her with her chubby baby hand and Mai soon cried.

“[Name] what did I tell you about hitting your sister.”

[Name] smiled a bit to know that the man known for adopting children and loving them as his own was her father. She was both relieved and delighted but still sad that Mai wasn’t here with her.

‘This is so cool Mai..our dad is Bruce Wayne…don’t worry I’ll see you again.”

Child services had picked her up and dropped her in front of the manor.

‘I’m so nervous…I wish Mai was here so I can be more brave.’

But when she went inside her hopefully expression was soon dropped when she was met with a hidden annoyed expression by the famous man himself. Bruce Wayne.

The face that the members of the clan would give her when she would see them pass.

The expression that made her wish she died instead of her mother.

#yandere x reader #yandere batfam #yandere bruce wayne #yandere damian wayne #yandere dick grayson #yandere tim drake #yandere duke thomas #neglected reader #emotional abuse #fem reader #batfamily x reader #batfamily x neglected reader #maki zenin #jjk #yandere jason todd #yandere cassandra cain #yandere stephanie brown

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tvseries-writings · 4 months ago

Note

I was so happy to see your most recent post Dangerous Addiction. It was such a good read. I wanted to ask if you could write a Maya x Carina x Reader story. Where station 19 responds to a pileup on the highway and Reader is in the middle of it. Maybe Maya has to call Carina at the scene to help refocus herself for the job she has to do. Carina meets them in the ER. I always love the way you write drama and angst. If you’re not feeling this, please ignore. Thank you!

Pileups

Maya x Carina x reader

TW: panic attacks, death (temporary), talking of death, injuries.

The day had started well, indeed. You had snuggled into Carina's arms while you were still in bed and then the Italian had given you one of the best morning orgasms of your life before the alarm clock rang for the second and third time, the moment when you had decided to get out of bed with the unspoken promise to continue what you had started that evening.

Maya was on duty, until nine o'clock if all went smoothly, so you had limited yourself to a simple good morning message and then, after greeting Carina with a kiss, you had taken the car keys and started driving to the Police station. Then, you had glanced briefly in the rearview mirror, checking whether or not you had taken your Detective badge.

You hadn't noticed right away...your foot had taken a few seconds too long to slam on the brakes, and in an instant, you'd been crushed between two cars; you'd heard a roar, a sharp pain, airbags deploying, and then...just darkness.

__________________________________

Maya Bishop had almost finished her shift; it was 8:55 a.m. and she couldn't wait to get home and hole up in the blankets. And then, the alarm at Station 19 had started sounding and her dream of getting home on time had vanished into thin air.

"We have a pileup on the highway, at least six injured. A truck cut off six cars and there was a pileup and chain reaction."

Vic reports to the blonde and The lieutenant nods, quickly slipping into her coveralls, as she had been taught in training, and entering the fire truck.

Maya bites her lower lip, feeling that something is wrong and not understanding what it is. Her stomach tightens as the truck approaches the crash site. The police have already diverted traffic elsewhere when the blond lieutenant sets foot on Highway 71.

Her gaze lingers on the road and the sign pointing to the police station a few miles away, and that clench in her stomach intensifies. Anxiously, her gaze darts over the cars, searching and praying at the same time that your first black car of 2018 is not among them but his prayers are useless.  

"Andy...Andy that's y/n's car, that's y/n's car!"

Maya begins to run, ignoring the screams of her captain and best friend as her feet dart across the asphalt. "Maya, Maya wait! Lieutenant Bishop!"

Maya's breath is labored as she finally gets to the passenger door, leans out, prays not to see your body but once again, her prayers are not heard. "Y/N! Love, love open your eyes, love open your eyes!"

Her breathing quickens, her chest rises and falls rapidly; she is on the verge of a panic attack but cannot afford it now.

She opens the door, her fingers frantically searching for your pulse, pushing on your carotid artery as her eyes scan your body for any injuries.

"Maya, leave it to us. Leave it to us, call Carina, take care of the other wounded. We'll take care of her."

Andy touches her back and caresses her, tries to pull her away but can't.

"Maya--" "No! No, she--she has to wake up, I have to be with her, she--love, wake up. Come on..."

The steady nerves that characterized the lieutenant seem to disappear, Maya cannot concentrate, her gaze is fixed on you and all she can do is think about the fact that you are not waking up, that your pulse is irregular, that the cut on your forehead is bleeding profusely, and -- "Maya! Maya, we need to take her to the hospital and you need to call Carina. Maya, can you hear me?"

Andy shakes her by the shoulders. She hasn't even noticed that the others have dragged her out of the car and are tending to you and the other injured. She watches Vic extract you from the car and Travis lay you down on the stretcher before checking your parameters.

"Probable head injury, possible lung collapse, weak pulse and falling blood pressure. We need to get her to Grey's Sloan now."

"Bishop!" Andy shakes the blonde hard, so hard that she finally manages to shake her out of her shock. "Go with her to the hospital, we'll take it from here. Maya, call Carina. Now."

Andy pushes the phone to her chest and has her sit inside the ambulance with Vic taking care of you. With one hand he squeezes yours while with the other, he shakily dials his wife's number.

"Bella, did you get home? I left your breakfast on the kitchen counter, there's the pistachio croissant you love so much. I heard there was a pileup on the highway involving multiple cars, they're bringing the injured here now, so far there are no casualties from what I've been told. You-"

"Car...Carina" Maya interrupts her, her voice trembling as she tells one of the loves of her life what she never wanted to say, "it's highway 71, I've just been to the accident scene. Y/n was driving one of the six cars that were involved. W-we're in the ambulance right now, she hasn't regained consciousness yet, she-" the firefighter's voice cracks, tears line her cheeks as she watches your parameters on the monitor. Vic moves frantically around your body lying on the stretcher, talking but Maya can't really take in what her colleague is saying. "May...Maya, are you okay?"

"Head trauma, possible puncture of a lung due to crushing. Her blood pressure is dropping and-" the blonde's breath is little more than a gasp and is so worrisome that Vic turns to look at her. "Amore, love you need to breathe okay? She needs you right now, soon you will get here and I will come to you but until then you have to breathe May. Do you understand, love?"

Carina is terrified, you can hear it in her tone of voice but Maya is too distracted by her ongoing panic attack to realize it. "Y-yes, I-it's d-difficult Car, she's so-"

A sob shakes her chest. Her hand grips yours too tightly. Carina says something but the words are muffled, distant.

The ambulance speeds across the tarmac but not fast enough. Your heart slows again. A moment later, the monitor beeps continuously.

Flatline.

__________________________________

"Maya,...Bella."

Carina runs to you as you are dragged inside the emergency room, lying on the gurney. Teddy Altman and Amelia Shepard are at her side as they check your vitals and have Vic and Travis explain what happened. "Her heart stopped Car, she has a collapsed lung and-and-and-" "May...Maya's breathing. It's okay. It's okay, she'll be okay love. I promise you, she'll be fine."

The blonde grits her teeth, nods, but tears continue to roll down her cheeks.

Carina holds her wife in her arms and hopes, prays that she can keep that promise. The Italian looks at the neurosurgeon, hoping to catch a glimpse of some trace of hope in Amelia, but what she sees sinks her heart further.

"Maya, Carina, we're taking her to the operating room. I will send Schmitt to alert you on how the surgery is going." "Amelia, I want to watch, I-" "Carina, you know it's against protocol and I don't think it's a good idea." Teddy speaks firmly, letting the stethoscope slide back to his neck.

Carina is about to retort but Maya gasps in her arms and the Italian pulls her close. The fireman is shaking and Carina cannot even imagine what is going through the blonde's head; her heart had stopped when she had received Maya's call and imagining you in that car had been enough to send her into a panic attack that she had had to suppress just to help Maya cope and get you to Grey's Sloan.

__________________________________

The steady beeping of the heart rate monitor brings you back to reality. Your head throbs and you groan softly.

Without meaning to, you wake both your wives. Carina has her head resting on your lap, her back curved in a position that must be anything but pleasant as Maya squeezes your hand tightly, watching you and unwilling to take her eyes off you for fear of seeing yours closed again.

Your head throbbing painfully, you raise your hand to graze the bandage around your head but thin, cold fingers won't let you.

"Bella, don't touch it, you have a pretty bad cut on your forehead and you had to have five stitches." "It won't leave a scar, will it?" Carina smiles, shaking her head, "no Bella, nothing will be left."

In the corner of your eyes you notice Maya avoiding your gaze and her white knuckles, given the strength with which she is clutching the fall barrier of your hospital bed. "Maya-" "I was scared, y/n. I've never been so scared in all my life, I-damn it, I thought you were dead, in fact, you died, you died for forty interminable seconds and had a collapsed a lung and-"

Maya suddenly breaks off, her voice breaking in her throat as a choked sob shakes her shoulders. Carina holds out a hand to her, but the blonde does not move. She just stands there, motionless, her glossy eyes scrutinizing you as if she is afraid you might disappear at any moment. "Maya, love, I'm fine, I'm fine, look at me...I'm here."

You ignore the pain and the protesting cry of your Italian wife and reach out toward the blonde. Your foreheads touch and you bring your hand to her cheek, stroking her cheekbones with your thumb. At your gesture, the breath she was holding promptly turns into a sob and another as her arms wrap around you tightly, trying, however, not to cause you pain.

Her breath is uneven against your neck, warm and trembling, as her fingers tighten in the fabric of your hospital gown. She holds you close as if her life depended on it.

Carina joins the embrace; her face hides in your hair for a few moments, the fear of not smelling you again still grips her stomach but the physical contact helps her to calm down a little and release the tension she has built up so far.

"It's okay Car, you did good, you were strong for all of us. I'm proud of you, honey."

You kiss her temple and squeeze both of them a little tighter, ignoring the dull ache in your chest as you settle more comfortably on the crib - not that you can be comfortable, three of you, on one of those infernal beds.

Carina exhales noisily, breaking away from your neck to look briefly into your eyes.

"You gave us quite a scare Bella"

"I don't think I'm going to let you drive a car for quite a while"

"I don't know if I want to drive it, May, take it easy and I'm sorry but it wasn't my intention to end up in the middle of a pileup."

You notice their looks and regret your choice of words a little.

"Too soon?"

"Definitely yes, idiot."

You laugh softly, barely wincing as one feels a twinge in her head. "You need to rest y/n, doctor's orders."

Carina leans toward you again, leaving a kiss on your lips before getting out of bed.

"I'm going to call Amelia and tell her you're awake, do you want some coffee or go to the bathroom maybe? We've been here for a few hours and-"

You are well aware that that tempting request is not addressed to you but you know, hope springs eternal.

"Yes my love, thank you."

Carina gives you a dirty look and then, looks at your wife waiting for an answer. Maya, however, seems to be unwilling to leave you alone, not even for a moment. You know your wife well enough to say that she is thinking about everything that could go wrong if she walked out that door, even if only for five very brief minutes.

"Maya, go with Car. I'm fine love, I swear. If I start feeling tired, I promise to hit the red button…you know I love doing that."

You smile, and your smile, along with your humor, melts the blonde. The firefighter gets up, gives you a quick kiss, and walks toward the door, hand in hand with Carina. "Take care..."

"Yes yes, I will be good. Scout's honor!"

And with a roll of her eyes, they both walk out the door of the room with smiles on their faces.

You watch them leave, exchanging jokes under their breath, and let go a little sigh. They drive you crazy sometimes but, after all, you give them a good dose of scares too.

Thank you for reading! Does it suck? Yes. Did I publish it anyway? Yes. Do I have other finished fanfiction that I don't know when I will publish? Yes. Anyway, this is my kofi link and if you have requests, send them in folks! Comment and and reblog, have a great day!

Buy me a popcorn

Taglist: @mmmmokdok @blackhill2245 @foggytidalwavefun @sevnheaven @budoxinha @lighthousekiller @m456300 @blitzar-3 @idontknownemore @lesbianbabe @speedup500 @differentranchempathfestival @mebeingthatbitch @jemilyswife @yuleni18 @darkstar225 @whyamihere2673 @your-my-mission @finca-lotr @coollemonsaresour @nuianced-tck-enby @fishlikestuff @ktstwice @idontknowhowtogay @liladoesfanfics @maria-403 @razorscooteer

#maya bishop x carina deluca x reader #maya x carina x reader #carina deluca x maya bishop x reader #maya x carina #maya bishop x reader #carina deluca x reader #carina deluca #carina x maya #station 19 fics #station 19 #wlw fanfictions #polyamourous #maya and carina #greys anatomy #grey's anatomy #greys anatomy fanfiction

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lordprettyflackotara · 1 year ago

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hitchhiker || chapter two || the proxies

tw: mentions of murder, brief descriptions of gore

a/n: i’ve gotten a lot of love for this series and i just wanted to say thank you!! as a tribute of my appreciation i present a question: would you guys prefer this story on another platform ADDITIONAL to tumblr? i’ve gotten a few ask. i’m not familiar with ao3 but id like to learn if yall want it :)<3

<— chapter one

You had Toby absolutely mesmerized.

He swallowed nervously as he sat beside you in the diner’s booth. Brian had specifically requested the booth farthest away from everyone else. He sought out privacy, even when you curiously arched an eyebrow when he informed the waitress of his request.

Toby couldn’t help but admire your figure, your curves begging to be acknowledged in that slimming white dress of yours. The sight borderline made his mouth water. Toby shifted uncomfortably in his seat, refraining from anxiously chewing on the inside of his mouth. This would be the first time in years he would be eating in public. Usually he was never concerned with his appearance. That was until he met you.

Now he was slouched in a booth at a diner, a large bandage tightly secured to the decaying side of his face. You were kind enough to not stare, Toby only having noticed your eyes flickering to it once. You hadn’t question his ghoul gray skin or bandage. You didn’t stare at him like he was a freak. You just carried on the conversation like he was a normal person like Tim and Brian. He glanced over at Tim and Brian, his leg bouncing up and down under the table.

The four of you had been served glasses of water, the waitress apologizing and ushering to a different table. You began to unwrap a straw, before putting it into your glass.

“So, what do you guys do for work?”

The question almost made Brian spit out his drink. Tim elbowed his partner. “We’re private consultants,” He replied casually. You sipped your water, grabbing the lemon off of the rim. “Private consultants for what?” You asked, squeezing the juice into your water. Toby watched Brian and Tim carefully, both of them tongue tied. “K-kind of like detective-es. Just without the license,” Toby answered. He hoped you hadn’t noticed how shaky his hand was as he grabbed his glass. He didn’t bother with a straw, carelessly gulping down the water.

“Detectives? Thats nice. Hired by a private client I assume? One that’s behind the scenes,” You suggest. Toby exchanged looks with Tim, giving him a slight nod to suggest they go along with your explanation. “Yeah victims families sometimes aren’t satisfied with the police’s answer for disappearances or murders. They hire people like us to do some of our own investigating,” Tim replied. He hadn’t touched his water. The waitress returned, a small notebook in hand.

“What will you all have to drink?”

Tim gestured for you to go first.

“I’ll have a coke, thank you.”

You looked over at Toby, whose leg was bouncing under the table at a million miles per hour.

“Dr Pepper i-if you have it.”

The waitress gave a confirming nod, looking over at Brian.

“I’ll just stick with water.”

She nodded, her gaze landing on Tim.

“I’ll just have black coffee, thanks.”

Once she left, you were eager to resume the conversation. “Must be exciting work, traveling all of the time. I assume it’s all paid right? Like traveling fees and food,” You say. Toby couldn’t help but feel nervous around you, the brunette forcing himself to join the conversation. “Y-yeah it’s p-pretty nice,” He replied. He felt his neck begin to twitch, Brian’s eyes shooting daggers at him across the table. “You guys should meet my best friend Nova. She just became the lead detective around here,” You suggested. Tim exchanged glances with Brian. Toby clutched his cup, practically reading their thoughts.

They finally had justification for keeping you around.

The waitress came back, setting the drinks on the table. She clicked her pen as she brought out her notepad from the apron, the sound making Toby’s left arm twitch. “What will you have?” She asked you. You glanced at the menu, clearing your throat. Oddly enough it felt weird having all three of their eyes on you, watching you intently. “I’ll have the barbecue burger with fries, thanks,” You tell her. She took the menu from your hands, looking over at Toby. “I’ll have the same but with two burgers instead of one,” Toby said, giving her a small smile. The waitresses eyebrows raised, but she scribbled it onto her notepad without comment.

Her eyes landed on Brian, who hadn’t glanced at the menu. “I’ll take a veggie burger with no tomato, thank you,” He said simply, handing the waitress the menu. She turned to Tim, who was quick to dismiss her. “Just coffee for me,” He told her. Your eyebrows furrowed as the waitress walked away. You wanted to questions Tim’s denial of food, Toby quick to cut you off. It was far too risky to have you aware of his crippling insomnia. “So what d-do you do for wor-rk?” He asked you. You grinned shyly, hoping the heat that was dashing across your cheeks wasn’t visible. It was.

“It’s a bit silly but I want to be an actress. I’ve always dreamed of being up on the big screen,” You admitted, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Tim sipped his coffee, listening intently. “For now though I work at Olive Garden. Just until I get my big break,” You finished. Toby stared at you in awe. He thought you deserved to be in every movie ever. Including the x rated ones. “You’ll be in Hollywood in no tim-me,” Toby told you, flashing you a big smile. His words provided you relief, Brian’s judgment written across his face. You could tell he didn’t want to be there. You returned Toby’s smile before turning back to Tim.

You had said something, Toby’s sight able to see your lips moving. But his hearing went dull, the diners lights flickering. He set his cup down on the table, trying to count his breathes. One. Two. Inhale. Exhale. This wasn’t real, right? It couldn’t be real. The Operator wouldn’t sought them out here, in such a public place. Right? His gaze landed past Brian, past the heads of the few other people left in the diner. Clear as day in the window, Toby saw a face. Or better said, a mask. He blinked and his breath became shallow as he took in the observers appearance.

Mangled jet black hair, now grown out past her shoulders. A snow white mask with black eyes stared back at Toby through the window, her eyes ominously hidden. Toby would recognize the faded white walmart jacket from anywhere.

What the fuck was Kate doing here?

Toby’s attention came back to the table as the waitress arrived, setting their food in front of them. He looked back at the window, Kate now gone. “You good Tob?” You asked. The brunette turned to look at you, silently shocked you cared. He nodded, giving you a weak smile. “F-fine just thought I saw something,” He replied. Toby shot Brian and Tim a look, one both of them were oblivious to. Did they not see the flickering lights? Brian was too invested in his food, while Tim’s attention was completely focused on you. Toby quietly picked up his burger, taking a bite. Man, you had good taste.

Toby was aware he was schizophrenic. He knew that when his mind went a little too into overdrive he’d see things that weren’t there. Over the years he had grown accustomed to it, making significant progress from his first year with the Operator. Sometimes he’d see his parents or Lyra. If he was in a bad episode he’d even be able to convince himself he was touching Lyra. Like she was really there. He hadn’t seen Lyra or his parents in years. Nor had he seen Kate in at least a year.

Kate the Chaser was a fellow proxy, who spent most of her missions alone. She was quiet and mysterious, never saying too much. As you continued to talk to Tim and Brian, Toby’s mind began to wander. Why was she here? He didn’t show any other signs of being in an episode. The colors in the diner were the same, no strange voices were whispering in his ears. Toby took another bite of his burger, his mind continuing to rack itself for an answer. Kate only came around for one of two reasons. 1. She was doing a favor for one of the Operators brothers or 2. She was there to check on the status of a mission. If it was option two, the three of them were fucked.

“What do you think Toby?” You asked. Your sweet voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “I’m sorry what?” He asked meekly. You pointed at his burger. “About the burger? It’s my favorite. They always have apple bacon,” You say. You were so peacefully oblivious, Toby’s scrambled mind feeling like it was glitching. “Very good, love b-barbecue,” He answered. He gave you a weak smile, dipping a fry into some ketchup. “So what’s your family like? They live out here as well?” Brian asked. Toby couldn’t help but feel unsettled, like they were being watched. Out of the three of them Toby was the least prone to excessive paranoia, but right now he felt like it was all too real.

“No I moved away from home. Originally I wanted to go to New York but I ended up here along the way. It’s the closest I can afford to the big city. Besides it’s not too far away,” You say, shrugging. Considering they were in Ohio, Toby concluded this to not be true. However you seemed to be trying to play off your own insecurities and Toby was determined to play along. “Where are you guys from?” You asked, sipping your coke. The lights in the diner flickered again. Toby’s eyes narrowed. “Alabama, nothing special,” Tim answered, earning a kick from Brian under the table. You took another bit of your burger, the sound of faint static flooding your eardrums. Your new friends didn’t seem to hear it, the three of them unnerved.

You decided to try to ignore it, a slight pounding sensation ensuing in your temple. You had no idea the other three heard it as well, four hundred times worse. Toby watched Tim’s head begin to pound, his adam’s apple swallowing as he tried to endure the headache. His gaze flickered over to Brian, his head twitching to the left. “Oh shit,” Toby muttered, dropping his fry. He grabbed the nearby steak knife, watching as Masky and Hoodie nonchalantly began to front. You looked over at Toby, who was shaking as he clutched the black handle of the knife. He was ready to defend your life with his own and a shitty steak knife.

“Tob? You alright?” You asked, eyes widening at the sight of the knife. Toby watched Masky and Hoodie carefully, waiting for them to attack. It was getting late, the four of them the only ones left in the diner. It wouldn’t be hard to kill you and the only waitress left. But you were so kind. So pleasant to be around. Plus, you smelled good. Masky frowned at the sight of you. If he could’ve had it his way he would’ve followed you home, disposing your body in a rancid dumpster. But he knew his place, the Operators request of his presence coming first. Masky dug in his pocket, Toby’s gaze darkening. He placed a wad of cash on the table, sliding out of the booth. “We have something we have to take care of. Why don’t you walk her home Toby?” Masky suggested blandly. Hoodie followed suit, hands dug in his jeans as he trailed after Masky. Hoodie’s lips curled into a cocky smirk, shamelessly checking you out. The duo left the diner quickly, leaving you and Toby dumbfounded.

“Are they bipolar or something?” You asked. Toby released the knife, trying to ignore your bewildered expression. A flash of white ran across the window, Kate’s presence confirmed. “S-something like that-t. Let’s get you home,” Toby suggested nervously. He ushered you out of the diner, anxiously looking around. He couldn’t spot Masky or Hoodie anywhere, nor Kate or the Operator. He sighed in relief, the cold night wind brutal. “I live down this way,” You say, pointing to down town. You wanted to question Tim and Brian’s odd behavior, but ultimately decided against it. Toby walked beside you, the orange street lights illuminating the path. He tried to be quiet, trying to uncover what they did wrong in his mind.

The cold didn’t bother him, but his eyes flickered over to you. You were a shivering mess, goosebumps littering your smooth skin. “H-here. Might n-not smell the best,” He said quickly. He slid off his signature hoodie, handing it to you. “But you’ll be cold,” You pointed out. Toby shook his head. “I don’t get cold-d. Here,” He insisted. Hesitantly you accepted Toby’s hoodie, sliding it on. It smelled like dirt, cologne, and a metallic scent you couldn’t place. “Thank you Toby,” You say, giving him a grin. Toby thought back to the dismemberment of the body. He followed the usual routine. Depending on the victim there were two possible routines.

One being what they called mystery. Toby would extract the teeth, slicing fingerprints and toes off of the victim. Next he’d scoop out the eyes, before slicing out the tongue. After that he’d cut off the head. He’d distribute the fingertips, toes, teeth, eyes, and head to Masky and Hoodie. The three would divide them up evenly, before going their own ways for the night to discard of the evidence. Toby had an all too familiar lake he preferred to dispose his in. The alligators there were practically his friends by now.

The other method, one Toby named chop chop. Or chop for short. His axe skills were utilized, each leg and arm, and of course the head, cut apart limb from limb. This method was recommended when the victim had been attacked from the front. The more raw mushy organs on display, the more likely the wolves would get to the body before a human did. As for the body parts, the proxies had been using barrels full of acid. It was a grueling process, but they were able to bury them in the forest without a long drive to discard of them.

For detective Winston, they had opted to use route two. Chop was quicker. Of course they used chop, wanting to see you as quickly as possible. That’s when it finally hit Toby: Hoodie had slashed his throat. His chest cavity and organs were intact. He was a detective in the force for years. He had a chest tattoo. Thats why the Operator sent Kate. The body had been discovered and identified.

“I know this isn’t the best part of town but it’s all I can afford right now,” You say. Toby snapped out of his thoughts, turning his attention back to you. You had taken his silent pondering as judgment. “I’ve slept in trees before, i’m sure y-your apartment is l-lovel-ly,” Toby told you. You subtly began to walk closer to him, purple neon signs illuminating the rest of the pathway. “It’s not normal I know but i’ve always wanted a tattoo from that shop,” You told him, pointing at ‘Ray’s tattoos’. Toby examined the shop, his eyes scanning over the multiple people getting tatted. He made eye contact with what appeared to be a biker, his gaze returning to you.

“H-how about I go w-with you sometime? I d-don’t have one,” He admitted. You gave him a sheepish smile. “I have one but it’s kinda embarrassing,” You confessed. Toby chuckled, following you into your apartment building. “C-can’t be that bad,” Toby replied. He trailed behind you as you entered the elevator, clicking the button to the fourth floor. “Promise you won’t tell Tim and Brian?” You asked. Toby nodded, preparing himself to see whatever exposure of skin you were going to provide him. Instead you leaned close to him, whispering into his ear, “I have a tramp stamp.”

Toby felt a shiver of ecstasy run down his spine, soaking in the sensation of your hot breath. “O-oh wow,” He blushed. You giggled as the elevator doors opened, walking to your apartment. You stood in front of door 401, turning to Toby. “I really do like you guys you know. Despite their social awkwardness, it’s nice seeing some new faces around here,” You say. Toby could hardly get enough of your praise, his imagination now playing with the idea of your tramp stamp. “T-thank you. We like-e you too,” He said. You gave him a small smile. “I don’t think Brian likes me,” You told him honestly. Toby pretended to play dumb. “Pfft, B-Brian’s just a l-loner. He didn’t like m-me either at first,” He replied. Which, was technically true.

You bit your bottom lip, your eyes flickering to your apartment door. You grabbed your keys, unlocking it. You were about to invite Toby in, the invitation on your lips. Just as you opened your mouth, Nova appeared in front of you. You jumped in surprise. “Nova? Holy shit what are you doing here?” You questioned. You had given Nova your key ages ago for emergencies. There she stood in her pajamas, a file in hand. Toby frowned at the sight of Nova. Why was she there? He wanted time alone with you. Why couldn’t he have you to himself for the night? “I’m sorry I know you were on your date but something new just happened in my case!” She said excitedly. Date? The word date made Toby’s heart flutter. His annoyance of Nova’s presence had temporarily subsided. Her chocolate orbs flickered over to Toby.

“Who’s this?”

You awkwardly turned to Toby. “Oh shit sorry, uh, Toby this is Nova, Nova this is Toby,” You say, introducing the two. Nova stuck out her hand, an apple watch secured on her wrist. “So you’re the hitchhiker,” She mused. Toby could sense her protectiveness of you. “And you’re the detective,” He replied, shaking her hand. The two of them purposefully gave the other a tight squeeze before Nova pulled away. “Alrighty then. Well i’d like to discuss this case with you before dawn,” Nova said, gesturing to the file.

“Of course of course,” You say awkwardly. You turned to Toby. “Here let me give you back your hoodie,” You said. Your fingers began to grab at the hem, Toby’s larger hand stopping you. You hadn’t realized bandages covered a majority of his hands until then. “Keep i-it. I’ll come get it from you late-er,” He told you. You could feel heat dash across your cheeks from his touch. You stood on your tippy toes, planting a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you Toby. I’ll see you soon?”

Toby nodded affirmatively, wishing you a goodnight.

He shoved his hands in his jeans as he walked down the hallway, grinning to himself. You’d be seeing him a lot sooner than you thought.

—> next chapter

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silentcaps · 8 days ago

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What if Genshin characters played Squid Game

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, au squid game

cast: arlecchino, beidou, heizou, itto, tartaglia, zhongli x reader

tw: mention of death, blood, ptsd

ARATAKI ITTO (player)

He’s loud, bright, and didn’t give in to fear when after the first round everyone scattered into corners. He didn’t betray himself in that awful place, even when after the second round people accepted the rules and just started surviving.

Itto kept laughing, shared food, fought. And he led others — who, somehow naturally, without pressure, ended up following behind him.

He wasn’t the strongest, and definitely not the smartest. But around him, it felt like there was a way out. For the first time since the games began, something like belief sparked in you — that maybe you could make it out without getting your hands dirty.

Itto believed in you too. Really believed, and said it out loud. Patted you on the back, smiled that crooked little smile.

When Itto was gone — it was like all the warmth got sucked out of your soul. You can’t get warm under the blankets, lying in his bed. Can’t feel full from breakfast or lunch. You snap at everyone.

Even in the fifth round, legs shaking as you step over other people’s bodies, you’re only thinking of him. And you keep going. For him. Because Itto believed in you, and he would’ve wanted this.

ARLECCHINO (frontwoman)

You stare at her on the subway. In a blazer, hair done up, tall and sharp. And when she looks back — you flinch. Ashamed of your greasy hoodie, worn-down sneakers, your face hollow from hunger.

“You know the rules of ttakji?” she asks, throwing a red envelope on the ground.

Soon you’re standing there with cheeks swollen from slaps. She hits without mercy. She sees the anger in your eyes, the kind you’re still swallowing. Hears your ragged breathing. Feels it in the tense air — how you want to hit her back, but keep yourself in check.

Arlecchino suddenly catches herself thinking: something about that quiet defiance of yours turns her on. Makes her want to grab your red cheeks, pull you close and kiss you. If you try to fight back — pin your arms and shove you to the wall. She knows for sure you wouldn’t mind. The game’s gotten too personal, and she likes it that way.

BEIDOU (former winner)

At night, you come to her. Sit down on the edge of the bed, sink into the mattress, brush your legs against hers. Sometimes you’re quiet, sometimes you whisper something dumb, but Beidou likes to listen. Just like it was before.

Beidou isn’t afraid of dreams. She likes when you come. Likes feeling the warmth of your smile, the living fire in your eyes.

Beidou’s only afraid of waking up. Every morning — all over again. An empty bed, hands clutching at air. A heart that refuses to believe.

She’s not ashamed of the tears. For the life she lost — turns out it wasn’t that bad before the game. For you — the most real thing in all that hell. Now you’re just a dream, and the crying slowly turns into something worse.

SHIKANOIN HEIZOU (detective)

Over a hundred people gone. It’s happened before. No bodies, no cameras. Just millions of won in debt left behind. Their families or coworkers report them missing.

The police say, “No one disappears without a trace.” Probably just debt collectors — they ran, changed their names, left the country even. Who wouldn’t, in their shoes?

But no gang could’ve pulled this off. What, operating all over Korea? No, the streets are just being cleared of those who owe too much.

But Heizou thinks differently. The picture doesn’t add up. Sometimes there are cards found in the homes — no text, just strange symbols — and the police couldn’t even be bothered to log them.

He gathers evidence alone. Keeps quiet. Waits.

And then — you’re in his office. Your hands are shaking, voice cracking. You talk fast, stumbling, not looking him in the eye. You speak of deadly games and survival.

He listens without interrupting. Then suddenly, leans in and whispers:

“I’ve been waiting for you for so long.”

TARTAGLIA (guard)

Tartaglia is supposed to stay hidden behind the mask. Unrecognizable in that oversized uniform. No speaking, no thinking. Just enforce the rules and stop trouble before it starts.

But for some reason — he thinks it’s in his head, until he’s sure — you notice him. You recognize his breathing, the faint smell of pine. You notice with a strange kind of gratitude how carefully he places the food into your hands. He doesn’t toss it, doesn’t throw it at you, but leaves it like “no one’s taking this from you — it’s yours.”

It all clicks for Tartaglia when he accidentally hears you talking about your younger siblings. You’re doing this for them. That’s enough for him to start rooting for you.

Behind the mask, he’s an older brother too, trying to pull his family out of poverty. He made a hard choice — maybe not risking his life, but still choosing between guilt and having food on the table.

Of course, there’s no miracle. Tartaglia doesn’t break the rules or secretly help. He stays a guard until the end. But after the games, he tries to find your siblings. To make sure they’re okay. To share what he earned.

Both families should have enough.

ZHONGLI (one of the VIPs)

He watched you play. Saw how afraid you were, but how even fear couldn’t make you betray others. How you never said no to helping someone — but didn’t know how to ask for help yourself. While everyone else hardened and learned to survive, you cried into your pillow at night. Quietly, so no one would notice.

And Zhongli didn’t exactly pity you — but he saw something real, something he’d missed among all the endlessly different people making the same hollow choices. He ordered the soldiers to protect you, to bring you to the final round.

The other sponsors said the weak shouldn’t survive. That’s what the games were for. But Zhongli didn’t see weakness in you — he saw screaming humanity.

And so he meets you in the final. A table set in luxury, the tablecloth stained with blood. He slowly removes his mask and congratulates you on surviving.

But instead of the purity in your eyes he’d longed to drown in — he sees hatred.

#genshin x reader #arlecchino x reader #beidou x reader #heizou x reader #itto x reader #tartaglia x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin impact

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thefrontmanscockwarmer · 5 months ago

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On the Rocks

Player 001 x reader [SMUT]📸

Masterlist <- Comment on this post to be added to the tag list

Note: cop In Ho x cop reader, different teams

Tw: smoking & drinking

You stood at your bar counter at 10 pm staring at the documents on your table. You were a detective at the police department and had to take a case home with you.

"You know, sleeping won't kill you (y/n)" In Ho comes in shrugging off his work jacket and setting it on the bar stool. You had a half a whiskey on the rocks left and a cigarette burning by the open window as you read. You turned a half smile as he kissed your cheek before hugging you from behind. "Did you hear me, Detective?"

"I did, hi baby, how was work?" You ask as if you're in autopilot.

"Work was... work, you know dead body in the alley." He held you against him, smelling your hair. “The usual, said we were taking the case because you’re already up to your nose. I don’t know understand why they don’t just deem it as no evidence and cold case it”

"Because I fought for it. ID a killer?" You turn the page. He smirked, as he picked up the cigarette, guiding it to your lips.

"We think so, but it's still early" he kisses your neck.

You moan lightly as you breathe smoke from your lips, he saw it dust the page before flying up towards him.

"Of course... today's the first day you found it" you say. "You'd be home later if you were close" he smiles.

"If I was close?" He grins, you can hear it in his voice.

"Yeah, exactly. If you were close" the silence rang out for a few seconds before In Ho broke it:

"Relax" he whispered in your ear."

"I can't... I have to solve this one" you reply, sighing deeply.

"It wasn't a request" he says, kissing your neck. His hands drifted down to your jeans.

"In Ho..." you groan.

"I'll do the work, you concentrate on the case then" he whispers in your ear. You nod as you continue reading. "But first..."

In a swift, but gentle motion, he grabs the loosely tied ponytail dangling in front of him and grabs the remainder of your drink. You willfully tipped your head back and drank it. Your throat burned that familiar burn as you swallowed. You felt his growth jumping up slightly.

"Fuck me" you moan as you begin reading.

"I plan to, darling" he says as he undoes your jeans.

His hand falls inside, teasing your folds. Your sight goes fuzzy as he plays with you, one hand hold' you against him and the other in your jeans.

"My god" you whisper as he enters a finger into the tight slot between your legs.

"I'm wasting time here" he says. You feel his finger leave and hear the sound of a zipper and you felt the coldness hit your legs as your jeans were pulled down. "Lean down a bit for me" you obey and lean over the bar counter as he holds your hips.

"Gentle, I have to read" you say.

"Oh I know, l've been wanting this all day" he says pressing his dick into you.

"Holy fuck" your sultry voice utters.

"Yeah baby girl. You feel great too" You closed your eyes as he pumped in and out of you. "Concentrate (y/n), or I'll stop" he warns as he fucks you gently to not disturb your work.

"Faster please" you gasp as you grip the counter with one hand.

"Can't"

"Why not?" He could hear the urgency in your voice

"You're working" he whispers in your ear as he thrusts into you. In the moment you dropped your file and pushed him back before turning rapidly in his arms.

"No im not" you crash your lips onto his, tongues mashing together as you unbuttoned his shirt. He pulls your shirt off and throws it on the floor as you began trying to make it to the couch. He knew you wouldn't make it. The pair of you heatedly made out as you traveled through the kitchen.

"Fuck" he mumbled as he tried to get outta his pants without breaking the kiss. The two of you were soon making out on your knees trying to get pants off.

"Fuckkk" he groans as you leaned back trying to get under him.

"Baby please" you whisper against his lips.

"Right here?" He asked as the two of you were on the kitchen floor. “Right on our kitchen floor?”

"Yes" you nearly gasp. He helped push you onto your back, getting your pants off. He quickly reattached his lips to yours as you pulled his pants down, allowing his dick to spring free. "Oh my god, In Ho now, please" you pull him further into you. He slides his cock in without hesitation.

My fuck! (Y/n)!" He groans out as he fucks into you. He lays kisses on your lips as your legs wrap around him. The two of you tangled up on the floor, moans and curses being thrown as he fucked you just the right way at just the right pace.

"Oh my god, YES!" You cry out as he angles for your g-spot. "Oh In Ho don't stop"

"I'm not going to" he speeds up, feeling his climax. Digging your nails into his back, you near your own climax.

"Fuck In Ho" you groan.

"I wanna hear you say it" he growls in your ear as he thrusts deep inside you. At this point, he was balls deep just moving in the way he knows you like.

"I'm coming" you moan as you felt that knot breaking loose.

"What?"

"I'm fucking coming" you begin to spaz into him as he fucks you harder.

"What's that beautiful?" He kisses you.

"Did you say you're coming?"

"Yes" you cry gripping onto him.

"Huh?" No response, just moans. "Huh baby? Is this it?" He groans as he hears you scream into his ear.

"There it is" he says as he climaxes in time with you.

"Fuckkkk" you yell out into the night as In Ho sloppily fucked you through it. Your moans tighten as he keeps fucking, emptying himself out. "Fuck i love you"

"I love you" he kisses you, pulling out and laying next to you on the cold tile. Pulling your close to him. "I fucking love you"

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goldingwrites · 25 days ago

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after hours (chapter 18)

⯈ previous chapter: chapter one - chapter two - chapter three - chapter four - chapter five - chapter six - chapter seven - chapter eight - interlude - chapter nine - chapter 10 - chapter 11 - chapter 12 - chapter 13 - chapter 14 - chapter 15 - chapter 16 - chapter 17

⯈ pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x female!reader

⯈ summary: the nights in Gotham are always unforgiving, you, you strip for money, to feed your son and to forget some of your troubles. it’s easy, it’s simple until Vengeance appears in your night.

⯈ rating: mature.

⯈ tw: violence (description of physical abuse), blood, angst, minor character death, hospital settings & medical procedure (FOR THIS CHAPTER)

⯈ chapter word count: 6.7k

⯈ note: here is the june update, please make sure you read the trigger warnings for this chapter, LOTS OF ANGST, we are picking up right where we left off! the next update will be mid july, enjoy!

“BRUCE!”

...

In hindsight, you both should have seen it coming. Because doesn’t life work like that? What goes around must come back around. Or something as poetic as that? Isn’t it the very definition of justice?

Something completely unfair?

Something cold and undiscriminating?

Maybe.

You’ve never screamed so hard and so loud in your entire life.

Even while you were in labor, surrounded by doctors and nurses, drenched in your own sweat, tears, and even some of your blood. You still felt some pain despite the medication, but you knew it was for a good reason. From the suffering, something very good emerged. From the suffering, you created a life. A whole fucking life, but not just the pain from that operation table, God no. It took months and months of so-called love and affection, years of neglect and brutality, all culminating in one moment, all resulting in something good and pure.

Because that’s justice too.

But this?

THIS?

Natasha is dead.

You saw it in front of your very eyes, and you could still see it. Bruce just apologized, and now, in front of multiple screens, in front of all of them, flames are dancing in front of your eyes. Raw fire, destructive fire, annihilating fire. One tear rolls down your right cheek as this minute and this moment seem to drag forever. And yet, you’re breathing, and yet your heart is pounding so loud you can feel the taste of your blood in your mouth, it’s wet and dry at the same time, and, and, and...

“Alfred, Alfred...” You say the name of Bruce’s guardian, breathlessly. “What’s going on... What’s going on?”

“I...” He sounds shaken, you turn to him, and the distress on his face is gone in an instant. Just like that, in a flash, it’s gone. Yes, it’s chilling the way his expression shifts and his demeanor changes, you know, just like you, Alfred is worried, except he knows the next minutes will be crucial. And he must fulfill his duty, not just to Bruce but to Vengeance as well. “Let me see if we can get anything from the police radio. we need to know exactly what’s happening, it’s important.”

You nod, seeing Alfred and hearing Alfred sound so sure of himself is comforting in a way. Internally? You want to grab his shoulders and remind him that there was a bomb next to Bruce. How can he be so sure Bruce is okay? Does Vengeance suit protect him against that? Shit, you should know those answers, how useless can you be?

The thought strikes you as Alfred seems to be playing with the buttons of a very old radio, looking for a signal. You come closer as he detects nothing but static, and just as you’re about to ask him about Bruce, a voice comes from the other side. Someone is coughing loudly, they spit next, and from experience, you know, they just spat some blood and a lot of it.

“CAN ANYBODY HEAR ME? Shit, shit... it’s a fucking set up... we’ve been played... everything is... the bank is burning, not just, the history museum and shit... Arkham... multiple squads have been hit, we lost signal... we NEED back up. Please, please... my partner isn’t moving... shit, Gary, please... PLEASE!”

There’s a sob, and it’s gut-wrenching, it shakes you in your boots, and you have to hug your own body just so you don’t end up in the same state. Whoever is on the other side, whoever is sending this message, they don’t have long and they probably know it.

“Alfred...” You put one hand over the man’s shoulder. “We... we can’t let him out there, we have to go get him.”

“Agreed,” Alfred is up on his two feet next, a firm expression on his face. “I’m sorry to ask you this, but the circumstance...”

“We’re past the point of no return, Alfred, ask away...”

“Can you use a weapon? Of any kind?”

“No, unfortunately no.”

“Then, you leave that to me, you’ll be driving.”

“I can do that.”

“Miss... If we go retrieve Master Wayne, you have to do as I say, when I tell you to do it.”

“I will.”

“We won’t be rescuing anybody else, unfortunately.”

“I get it, we get Bruce and we come back here.”

“Exactly.” Alfred nods. “Now follow me.”

You nod, and you automatically follow Alfred. You don't know if it's his tone or his confident stride as he leads you to another corner of Vengeance's base of operation. But you follow, you're ready to follow, to listen and to do anything he tells you to do, especially if it means finding and retrieving Bruce.

He has to be okay.

He just has to be.

He made a promise to you.

No, correction, they made a promise to you.

Both of them. Vengeance and Bruce, they made a promise to you. But it doesn't mean that you are going to sit idly and wait for him. No, for them, you will do the impossible. He's only human, that's something that Bruce tends to forget, and quickly at that, you don't unfortunately. How could you forget that simple and yet very important fact when you've spent so many nights cradled and shielded in his arms?

With your ear pressed right against Bruce's chest, listening to his heartbeat.

That is your favorite melody, one you could always dance to.

You should tell him next time you see him.

Alfred pushes open a heavy set of doors, and you're not even surprised or phased as you face multiple arrays of weapons: guns, rifles, knives of various sizes, and even a few swords. You're waiting for his instructions, and the first thing he does is to give you a bulletproof vest and tell you to watch what he does. He passes one too, securing it with a belt at the bottom, and you copy Alfred's movements quickly and easily.

"Good, very good."

You know he's not talking to you, Alfred still gives you a once-over, probably to make sure you are going to be protected. Once that's done, he grabs a bag and starts shoving a few weapons inside. Various firearms, a few grenades, and finally a first aid kit. You know the weapons are for him to handle, you're one hundred percent sure of it, especially when seeing the resolute look on the older man's face. He closes the back quickly, and finally, he grabs what you know is a shotgun, and finally, Alfred turns to you.

"Let's go."

Next, the butler leads the way to the familiar garage. You don't take any of Bruce's fanciest cars, no, Alfred chooses a practical car, and he hands you the key to an SUV. You nod, still silent as you slip into the driver's seat and fasten your seatbelt. You're trembling, you realize it as you grip the steering wheel, your knuckles change color, and when you turn to Alfred, you find him inputting your destination into the GPS.

Gotham National Bank, Vengeance's last known location.

When he turns to you, he offers you a soft smile.

Your mouth is so dry, part of you is scared, terrified even, are you really about to do something so risky? Yes, you think the next second, for Bruce, you will do absolutely anything.

Alfred says your name with his usual kindness, pauses, and then continues. "From now until we reach our destination, I want you to drive. And just drive. Don't stop at any sign or red lights, just drive."

"Okay." You nod once more. "What about roadblocks or potential police cars?"

"Well, this car is registered under Master Bruce's name, so we can afford a few transgressions, and honestly? I think, and I'm hoping no one notices us in the chaos."

"Good point. Okay, let's go, I don't want to waste any more time."

"Of course."

You exchange one final look with Alfred, and finally, you start the car.

This isn't your first time driving, and yet, it feels like the first time. Everything is new and daunting. You're glad for the cold and empty voice giving you directions. It's a few minutes before you will reach the center of town, and unsurprisingly, the streets are empty on this side of town, no pedestrians, no other vehicles. Peaceful and quiet. You follow Alfred's advice and you ignore the stop signs and the lights, you just drive. Foot pressed on the accelerator, you don't stop, you can't stop.

No, there's too much on the line.

After a particular sharp turn, it's been some time since you drove a vehicle this side, you see the chaos and the madness. And more importantly, you hear it. Yes, the very distinct siren of a fire truck, yes, one speeds past your vehicle, without paying any attention, and that's when the flames come into full view. Orange, red, soaring, and powerful, a couple of buildings are on fire, and there's some sort of rampant panic in the street, as people are running away from those buildings. Police officers, civilians, fire fighters, it's a slew of people moving, shouting, coughing... surviving.

"Take the next left and you will reach your destination in three minutes."

You snap out of it; Alfred gave you some precise instructions, and right now? You're so glad he did, you're just here to drive. Drive to Bruce. Drive to the one man who made you think that maybe you deserved a little bit more.

Drive to the man you love and hopefully find him in one piece.

Drive to the man you love.

Fuck... you should tell him that. Before you lose any chance to do so.

Because it has to be love... right?

Right?

You steer left, it's sloppy, and you hit the curve, but Alfred doesn't comment, and neither do you. Once the wheels of the car are straight, you push on the accelerator with renewed purpose, because it has to be less than three minutes. You have to make it now. Now or never.

"You have reached your destination, National Bank of Gotham City. Have a pleasant evening."

You refrain the urge to roll your eyes at the GPS and its disembodied voice, it doesn't know the whole situation after all, or why you're driving in the middle of the goddamn night. You stop the engine and turn to Alfred.

"Now what?"

"Now you follow me and we go get Master Bruce."

Almost in sync, you both exit the car.

Outside? it's worse, it's so much worse, the first thing that invades your senses is the very distinctive smell of burned fabric. And burnt flesh, part of the building is still on fire, but you spot two firetrucks and a slew of firefighters and police officers, one side of the building is being hosed down by a giant spray of water, and you can only pray that's wear Bruce is located.

"Follow me!" Instructs Alfred, and it's easy to do so.

Yes, amidst the confusion and the chaos, it's very easy to just enter the bank. Maybe someone shouts at you to stop, maybe someone tells you to go get checked by a doctor, but as you enter the bank and you see the broken glass everywhere, you're welcomed by a chill silence and smoke everywhere. You just focus on Alfred, the square sureness of his shoulders as he makes his way up the stairs. You're running the next second, retracing Vengeance's steps and actions. You don't have a motorcycle, so it's slower, and the higher the climb, the heavier that white foggy smoke becomes, and the more you cough. Both you and Alfred but neither of you stops, no, you don't.

"Come on, just a little bit more..."

Alfred's voice guides you and for a few minutes, it's like your anchor, you force a deep breath as you finally stop climbing the stairs, fucking, and you almost regret it when you cough the next second. But you don't stop, you keep following Alfred, and soon enough, he forces his way into a locked room. The hard shove he gives the door doesn't seem to cut it, so, almost naturally, he shoots at the handle with his powerful gun. The sound is loud, but not as loud as your heartbeat, not as hard as the rustling of the wind invading your ears as you enter this room.

There's no smoke, no, the floor-to-ceiling windows have been smashed, and there's a cold wind in the room. Some flames are still dwelling about, but they are about to disappear and...

"BRUCE!"

There he is, in the center of the room, that dark, unmoving form, it's him? Right? The shape of his suit, the shape of his mask, and that pale jaw? You know it's his, you know it's him, you've traced the contours of his face so many fucking times: in your sleep, in anger, in desperation, in a middle of a desperate embrace... it's him, you'd bet your life on it, it's fucking him.

You're faster than Alfred, you don't know how, but you are, and immediately, you rush to his side. Instantly, you're on your knees, grabbing his face. You remove the mask as gently as you can. His eyes are closed, there's blood everywhere on his face, and the contrast is so striking with his pale marble skin, you want to cry. You want to cry and go do the same to the person who hurt him, yes, you want to tear and destroy, just because of what they did to him.

Alfred is there too, and he immediately checks for a pulse; you take in his relieved sigh as he detects one.

"Please, tell me you can hear me, Bruce, we're here, open your eyes, please..." You cradle his jaw with shaky hands, you just need him to open your eyes to signal that he will, somehow, against all odds, survive this.

"His heartbeat is faint but here and... we'll have to take off the suit to see the state of his injuries and..."

"Alfred, there's so much blood on his face, why is there so much blood on his face?"

Just as you ask the question, your hands move to his head, that's when you detect a soft spongy spot, that's where the blood comes from, and Alfred groans when you show him your hands covered in blood.

"He might not come to for a while, we need to... okay, hold him like that." Alfred pulls out the first aid kit, and you watch him work as quickly as possible. He presses some sort of compress to Bruce's head to stop the bleeding and probably stop any further complications. Bruce makes a sound of that, but still, his eyes remain shut. The sound alone? It feels like a knife slicing you in half, but you ignore it, this isn't about you right now, this is about him, you need to do everything you can right now...

"I.... we need to take him to a hospital, this is beyond my expertise, and he needs proper medical attention."

"Alfred, how are we...? They can't know, nobody can know."

"You're right... But there has to be a back entrance, something, we'll head there, you bring the car around while I wait with him, and in the car, we remove his suit and go to a hospital... Okay?"

"Okay, yes, let's... let's just..."

For the next part, you have to let go of Bruce, he's safe in Alfred's arms, and if you were doubting the other man's strength, you don't anymore, not when he manages to get Bruce up to his feet, one of Bruce's arms over Alfred's shoulders. They make for a sore sight, especially with Bruce's head just falling down, the blood still on his forehead and nose, and... you gasp loudly next.

"What?" immediately asks Alfred.

"Look, his right leg, it's..." The angle isn't right, and if Bruce were awake, you are one hundred percent surer he would scream in pain, absolutely no doubt of it.

"I see... it appears to be broken. Even more reason to take him to a hospital, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes, agreed."

You nod, without a single hesitation, you plant a quick kiss on Bruce's lips, and you move, ready to bring the car around and to leave this madness.

You need to; this isn't just about you now.

***

Breathing is an automatic process, a natural phenomenon. And for that, you're glad, because you're pretty sure you would have forgotten to take a breath otherwise, with all that's currently happening.

Oddly enough, it's easy to bring the car around the bank, and Alfred is right, there are multiple back entrances, probably for deliveries and such, and it's easy to meet him and Bruce back them. Outside? In the cold night air? Bruce looks even worse, but you somehow manage to lay him down in the back seat of the car as quickly as possible.

You don't need Alfred to tell you to drive you to the nearest hospital; you do it without a second thought. Once again: automatic. Driving also is, once your hands are around that steering wheel, you know exactly what to do and what direction to take. You don't need to use the GPS, you're more than familiar with the route, and you take Bruce to Gotham's general hospital. You pass a few cars, but like Alfred instructed you before, you don't stop. No, while you drive, you hear the older man strip Bruce of his suit, leaving him in loose black clothing.

Alfred doesn't find any more blood, he tells you, so Bruce is lucky in a way. But there's that spot on his head where he stopped the bleeding earlier, his broken leg, and one of his flanks has suffered some mild burning. Alfred doesn't offer you more information, and maybe that's for the best; you wouldn't be able to drive otherwise.

You're silent when you reach the hospital and the emergency room. Alfred takes the lead then. He lies so easily, as nurses and people suddenly surround Bruce. Bruce had a meeting with investors at the bank. He stayed behind to go over some files, and that's when the bank was attacked, that's when he was attacked, and the explosion occurred. It's a good story, plus, who's going to question the richest man in the city? Of course, he'd have a private meeting at the bank; it makes sense.

The doctor informs you that the urgent matter is Bruce's skull; they need to assess if it's fractured or if it's more damaged. His legs and his burning marks are secondary, according to the doctors.

"But he'll wake up, right?" You hear yourself ask the doctor, surprised to hear that you found your voice. For Bruce, you would, of course, you would.

"We'll know more after the first series of exams," the doctor offers you an impersonal reply and an empty smile. You suppose that it's just another day for him. "It's a good thing you brought him when you did... We will let you know as soon as we get the initial results.... and if anything needs to be decided and signed, you'll be notified."

You nod, it's the only thing you can do before your gaze falls on Bruce. On that hospital bed, he looks massive. He looks even paler and yet still impressive. The very picture of a fallen giant, you hate that comparison, you hate it even more when the hospital bed is pushed away and Bruce disappears from your view. You almost jump out when Alfred presses one hand to your shoulder, but still, you let him guide you away. To a waiting room.

But not the usual waiting room, this one has actual comfortable chairs, a water fountain, and the heating works. There's no one in sight, and you can't even laugh at the privilege that money brings, or roll your eyes at it. Honestly, you're glad, you don't want to be facing anyone right now. You've heard the radio signal and you know many police officers and some civilians' lives are in danger, but... You don't care. As bad as it sounds, all of that is background noise, all that matters is Bruce and Bruce only.

You find a chair easily, your feet are on it too, as you fold your legs and press your knees to your chest, just so your chin can rest on them.

"Now we wait?" You mumble, eyes on Alfred next.

He's still standing, and he nods. "Yes... I do have to leave you for a moment, some matters to take care of... I also need to check something on the police feed... I need to make sure that..." Alfred pauses, a sad expression on his face when he resumes his sentence. "They have found Natasha's body."

"Yeah, that makes sense." Your voice is miles away as you say this. She's dead, she's dead, and you're not crying, there are no tears in your eyes, if anything, you feel tired. From this night, from every other night, from the dread, and for worrying. It's horrible, but in a way, you don't have to worry about Natasha anymore, she's dead, right?

That's the final leap... isn't it?

Gosh, you're such a horrible person.

Just as you think that, your lower lip trembles and Alfred appears in your field of you. He's on his knees in front of you, and he grabs your two hands.

"I know this is hard, but believe me, the hardest part is done. He will wake up, I'm sure of it... Master Wayne has been stubborn since he said his first word."

You chuckle despite yourself, so glad for Alfred, and you squeeze his hands next.

"Okay," you manage.

"I won't be too long... I will also grab your mother and the little one and make sure they are safe at the manor."

"Oh yes, that... considering everything happening tonight... yes. Thank you."

"But of course, you're family and so are they. I'll be back as soon as possible."

Alfred leaves you with an honest smile, a miracle considering the circumstances.

***

You wait.

There's nothing else to do but wait.

Sat down on that chair, you wait, all on your own. It's quiet and strangely calm in the room, as if, a few feet away from you, the one person who made you want to change is not in a critical condition. But that's the thing, you don't know. You're no doctor, but you know blood spilling from Bruce's head? It can't be good. You do your best not to focus on that, and you wait. Your eyes are glued to the clock on the wall; your arms wrapped around yourself in some sort of pathetic attempt to warm you up.

And tic-tic-tic... the arrows move, they follow their own pace, they follow their own rules, and they move. 40 minutes pass before your phone, deep in your pocket, buzzes. It's a text from Alfred: your mother and your son are safe back at the manor, security is there, and they won't go out until it's absolutely necessary. You send a simple thank you in response, and when the phone disappears, it's back to waiting.

It's an hour before you face the same doctor you addressed earlier, and once he has confirmed your name, you are one of Bruce's emergency contacts, he gives you the news.

Bruce's right leg is indeed broken.

That's not worrying, what's worrying is that he is suffering from internal bleeding, right inside his brain, and if they don't move forward with an operation, it could lead to some dangerous consequences.

"It's early enough that if we operate now, Mr. Wayne is likely to wake up in the next 72 hours without any permanent damage. He'll have to take it easy and see a neurologist regularly, but-"

"Yes. Go ahead, whatever you need to do, do that," you interrupt the doctor, and loudly at that, without a care in the world, how could you care when there's a chance this night actually end.

He nods, you sign the piece of paper he hands you, and it's back to waiting.

Hours pass.

Hours upon hours, and at 3 am, your bladder and your stomach have decided that you have had enough. Alfred isn't back, you have no more messages from him, you did message him right after the doctor left you in the room, after all, he's the man who raised Bruce, he deserves to know about his well-being and his future. But since then, radio silence. You suppose he is busy, he's not just Bruce's family, he also looks over Vengeance's shoulder, so he has to make sure everything is okay there too.

After all, Natasha is dead.

The thought brings you back to your feet, and you venture into the hospital. Finding the toilets is easy enough; you keep venturing down until you find a vending machine. You buy a bottle of water and a Coke with crumbled dollars from the back of your pocket. The hallway is noisier than the waiting room you left, and despite yourself, you follow that noise. It's always been ingrained in you, it seems, to follow the noise, to follow the chaos. Your feet lead you into what is an emergency room. Doctors, nurses, and hospital personnel are moving about, shouting orders at each other, as they do their best to help all the people here.

By your estimate, there are at least 50 people here, mostly police officers, but not just, you see people without uniform, you see people bleeding, people crying, people praying... All crammed here, in one room. While you're in a pristine waiting room, waiting for Bruce to be treated.

The nausea is there, it's by pure chance that your stomach is almost empty, and you force yourself to swallow your saliva so you don't lose grip of reality.

Because this is unfair, isn't it?

The best doctors in the hospital are probably with Bruce.

But what about those people? They deserve the best too, they're suffering too. There is no way in hell, this is fair.

You can't stay here, you decide, you're physically fine for once, and you feel like an intruder. Or one of those visitors at the zoo, peeping through the glass windows. But this is not a fucking game, no, this is life and death.

You take a deep breath once you're back in the waiting room, and you empty half of your bottle of water, just to steady yourself.

Fuck...

You just need this night to end.

***

Bzz... Bzzzz...

It's 6 am when you move again, but only because your phone is ringing in your pocket. You slowly go for it, you're half dreading a call right now. If it's your mother, you won't be able to tell her or explain to her where you are and why.

Oh, yeah, you know Bruce that you love so much and think I should probably settle down with? He's actually a masked vigilante, the masked vigilante, he dresses up as a bat, goes out at night, and administers his own brand of justice.

...

A great conversation, you're one hundred percent sure of that.

Thankfully, it's Alfred, and you're glad for it. He's calling you and not texting, meaning it must be important, and after a deep breath, you pick up.

"Yes?"

"Sorry for the early call..."

"No need to apologize."

"Any news on Master Wayne?"

"No, I'm guessing the surgery is still ongoing, no doctor or nurse came back to talk to me, so..."

"So, for now, you're waiting."

"Yes," you sigh as you let out the simple word. You're more on edge than at any other time in your life. Maybe in a few days, you'll be able to look back on this moment, to this very moment, and find that you overreacted a little bit. Or maybe underreacted? You have no way to tell for the moment.

"Hang in there, I'm sure Master Wayne is in very capable hands." Alfred pauses, and you nod. "I wanted to update you on our situation..."

"Go on."

"They've found Natasha's body, and her family has been informed."

"Oh, that's good."

"Yes, she was married, the police have informed her husband." A husband? Natasha never mentioned anything of the sort, you suppose that all the info that she gave you at the club, about her crazy life, and her need for money? That was completely fake, just a way to gain your trust and see if you could give her some intel in return.

"Is there a TV in the waiting room?" Alfred asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"Hmm..." You look around and finally spot the lifeless black box. "Oh yes, there is."'

"You might want to turn it on soon, the mayor will make an address, from what I have heard."

"Is she?"

"Yes, it's... well, it's worse than we thought. There were multiple explosions, you see, at the same time, at the bank, the museum, but not just. There was also an explosion at the Arkham Asylum."

"You're joking, right?" You hear yourself.

"Oh, I wish I were, but there was, and turns out about 40 percent of the prisoners were able to escape and hide amongst the chaos. So, it wasn't random, it was..."

"A trap." You finish for Alfred, a tired expression on your face. "Just a trap. You heard what Domi... what he said before everything went down." You stop yourself from revealing too much in here. Who says the hospital is safe? No one, absolutely no one. "That he was the one pulling the strings, he knew about Natasha, he knew where we would be tonight, and everything was timed? And well executed? And they didn't take anything from the bank or the museum, I bet?"

"You are correct," drily confirms Alfred.

"No surprise there. Natasha did say someone in the asylum was being a supplier; it's almost as if it was their goal from the beginning. That as well as weaken the police department and... Vengeance."

"Hmm... as much as I hate to admit it, I believe you are right in this instance." Alfred sighs, you can still sense the irritation and frustration in his voice, two emotions that you share. "We've been played and expertly at that."

"Yeah, we have..."

"I.... I have some matters to look at. Are you okay on your own?"

"Of course, you do what you have to do. We both know, the moment Bruce opens his eyes, he'll want some answers, and as fast as possible."

"Yes... Please text me if you need anything, I can send Orlando over."

"Will do, thank you."

"Don't mention it."

You hang up. Soon after, you grab the remote lying on top of a stack of untouched magazines, turning up the TV. You don't have to wait too long before a BREAKING NEWS logo appears on the screen. Just as the camera zooms out and focuses on Bella Reál, the mayor of Gotham, you find your seat again. The black woman is at the police station, and you can tell after one glance that a couple of microphones are in front of her, and a few flashes are going on at once. After a brief pause, she speaks.

"My fellow Gothamites, it is with a heavy heart that I speak to you today. As many of you are already aware, several buildings in the city have been attacked by a criminal organization and its leader, Domino. Most of the victims have been police officers and their fellow colleagues. For those who are hurt and seeking medical help, please make your way to the nearest hospital where we will take care of you, regardless of your status." She pauses, you are focused on her face, how could you not? She sounds the part, and she looks the part. "I now declare the city of Gotham to be in a state of emergency. over the next few hours and days, several measures will take effect to ensure the protection of all the citizens of Gotham. The first one will be to close the city off, with the help of the national guard, no one is to come in and out of the city until this matter is resolved." She sounds so sure that you shiver in your seat. This feels too familiar, it's almost been three years since the flood and that nightmare.

Is the city back to square one?

Was nothing done? Was nothing changed?

"I urge every citizen to limit their trips outside, remain at home safe, and to report any suspicious behavior to the police." Your mother and your son are safe at the Wayne Manor, this is probably the safest place in town right now, most likely.

"Now, to the criminals and any person with ill intent watching this... let me be clear: none of this is tolerated. You will be apprehended, you will be arrested, and you will be prosecuted with the full extent of the law." Bella now sounds downright vicious. She takes this personally; there is no doubt in your mind. “There are tough times ahead of us. The next hours and the next days will determine who can roam our streets freely or not. But make no mistake... Justice will prevail." With that, the mayor's address ends, and it's replaced with a journalist reminding people of the helpful numbers and all the hospitals they can get access to in town.

This is... chilling.

This is another crisis, and there is no escaping this.

You need Bruce.

****

"Miss? Miss?"

By some fucking miracle, you did fall sleep and that hand over your shoulder wakes you up. More importantly, it startles you awake, and you have a full-body shiver as you move your eyelids. The lights are bright, your mouth is completely dry, and judging by the clock on the wall... It's going to be 9 am in exactly 10 minutes.

Oh, there, you got your wish.

The night did end.

Your gaze falls on the doctor next, he's still wearing scrubs you wear for an operation, you know this much, minus the mask and the gloves.

"Sorry, I did not mean to scare you," he says in a tired voice, but you nod negatively. Out of the two of you, he's probably more tired than you are. He's probably completely exhausted; he just had someone's life in his hands, and what did you do? You fucking fell asleep.

"It's fine... any news?"

"Yes, the operation went smoothly, and we were able to stop the bleeding. Mister Wayne is being placed in a room right now. I'm assuming you want to see him?"

"Yes."

You've never answered so fast in your life. You spring to your feet, probably too quickly. Yes, there are stars in front of your eyes, clouding your vision, as well as your unruly curly hair, you push it to one side of your face. You use all of your strength to follow the doctor. He leads you up, you realize, there's another elevator, and you know, for sure, you've never seen this wing of the hospital. You're even more convinced than before as the door slides open, once again, it's too pristine and too clean for a hospital.

"This way," the doctor leads you away, and after a brief pause where he talks to a nurse, you finally have a door number. 713. You follow him to the room, and you freeze in place once you can finally see Bruce.

...

This is not what you were expecting, yes, it is foolish to expect him to be smiling that one smile of his, the one that makes him look a bit dangerous, it's more of a smirk than anything else, and it's usually a private expression he has for himself, when his blue eyes are not focused on you.

It's even stupider to expect him to look as peaceful and as calm as he does when he is asleep, when the night has properly settled in, so much so that morning is about to arrive, so much so that Bruce looks pass out, exhausted, but happy, his face buried in your neck because that's his favorite spot to be in.

To your eyes? Bruce looks worse than the man you found at the bank. No mask, no armor, no nothing, just him, pale and frail, in a hospital gown and on that bed. His right leg is in a cast and it's raised in a sling; he won't be able to move it for a while, you figure. There's a tube going to his left hand, liquid going through, clear and slowly moving, and finally that face... his eyes are closed and he's bruised all over, his eyes are slightly swollen, and yeah, he looks like he took two heavy and painful punches straight to his face.

"... and he'll need some physical therapy regardless, but as I mentioned earlier with this type of surgery, he will need to see a neurologist regularly. We'll have to keep him for a few days once he wakes up and..." The doctor's voice is distant as he reads from the chart.

"But he will wake up, right?" Once again, you interrupt the doctor, without a single hesitation or even guilt, you need to know. This isn't just anybody in that hospital bed. As you ask, you finally step into the room, and that's when you take in all the machines beeping and moving about, monitoring Bruce's health.

"Yes, everything indicates that he will, despite it being a routine procedure for us, it is a heavy surgery for the body. We can't rush this, so he'll have to wake up on his own..."

"I see."

"There is no reason not to be optimistic, as I say, from a surgical point of view, it was a success, but it could take days for Mr. Wayne to wake up, weeks even."

Weeks even.

You nod, the doctor is trying to manage your expectations and to ultimately do his job. You fully understand and you resist the urge to inform him that no, you're not fucking optimistic. At all. You've seen life, you've had life beating deep into your skin, into your bones even, you've even had life growing in your guts and you screamed as you fucking pushed life outside of you, bringing you onto the verge of death. So, you know, you don't need to be told that it's cold, that it's fucking cruel, that it's downright brutal at times, you know.

"I see," you repeat, and finally, you pull up the chair next to Bruce's bed. "Thank you for... everything." You mumble, and again, the doctor gives you that professional, chill, and impeccable smile.

"I'll leave you to it."

When it's just you in the room, you fall into the chair without any finesse, your two hands finding one of Bruce's much larger and rougher ones. He's cold to the touch, which is a major difference. You remember warm embraces, you remember those very hands trying to carve imprints into your skin... It's not the case anymore, and as you look at his unmoving and marked face, you can't help yourself. The night is done and gone, the results are in: no one fucking won, no one at all, and now, there are tears silently rolling down your cheeks. Those are warm and hard to ignore, even more so when you have a full body sob the next second.

"Hey Bruce?"

You have so much to tell him.

He promised, he can't leave you like this, he has to fucking wake up, he has to wake up and make whoever did this to him pay. He has to, Bruce, Vengeance, whoever comes back to you, whoever, whatever, you'll take him, you'll accept him, kiss him, and make a life with him.

Whoever and whatever comes back.

"I love you."

It's barely louder than a whisper, it's half muffled by your tears and the bip bip of his heart rate monitor.

But fuck... It's the truth.

#batman x reader #the batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #battinson x you #story: after hours

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olinblogin · 6 months ago

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Hi! I'm July(the person who had currently asked you abt this), I just wanted to ask if you could make a Yandere!Rodger x Reader fanfic? Make it any type you want!

Sorrryyyy if this one is all over the place- I’ve been in and out of being kind of sick so I this feels like a fever dream it probably was lmao

🔎 TWISTING OF FATE 🔎

YANDERE!RODGER x GN!FORENSIC!READER

CW/TW: mentions of death, crime scene stuff, gore, etc.

˚✧₊ ° ‘⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ˚✧₊° ‘

The chill air of the night brushed over you, the wind thick with tension as you stepped closer to the crime scene behind Rodger. You weren’t new to gorey nature of the job as a journalist and forensic detective. But sometimes there were times it was just too much… not right now, though. This killing was tame.

Yellow police tape flitted in the breeze, and the sounds of voices of people being interviews mingled with the sounds of distant sirens.

You were stood by the police tape, notebook clutched in hand as you scribbled down details and doodled down a quick sketch of the crime scene. This was going to be thr headline of the week.

Just as you were putting the finishing touches on your little doodle, you noticed someone step behind you; it was Detective Rodger. He looked exhausted and tired of being here. And you couldn’t blame him, he’d probably been to three different crime scenes today.

“Good evening, Detective..” you greeted kindly, earning a gruff hum from the detective as he sipped some coffee… through his eye.

You still don’t know how his eye-mouth thing worked. But you’re sure you’ll find out. Someday.

You stood next to him, looking down at the crime scene, the blood stain left behind in an alleyway. “So, what do you think, sir?” You asked, trying to make some small talk…

“I think we’re looking at a bigger story than we thought… something dangerous.” he grumbled before looking at you with a softened gaze. “But you’re nto afraid of a bit of danger, now are you?” Rven though he didn’t have a visible mouth, you could tell he was smiling.

“No sir, I’m not. Besides, danger is part of the job… I’m sure I can handle myself.” You smiled back at him while turning your gaze back to your notebook and adding some info.

Rodger peered over your shoulder, watching you write down. “May I?” He gestured with an outstretched hand. You processed whag he meant and handed him your notebook.

He flipped through a bit to the recent crime scenes and let out a ‘hum of’ of approval. “These are quite nice. I’m quite glad they send you out here.” He praised and handed back the notebook.

“Thank you, sir.” You smiled back at him.

“Just call me Rodger.” He replied and turned his attention back to the crime scene, as did you.

After that day, an unspoken affection brewed between you two. You found yourself stationed by Rodger’s side more often nowadays—he’d been pulling strings behind the scenes just to get you by his side.

˚✧₊ ° ‘⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ˚✧₊° ‘

On a rainy evening, you and the rest of the forensic crew were grabbing the last of the evidence, scraping every stone for some kind of DNA.

You sighed and put away the last of the evidence when Rodger came into view out of your peripheral vision. “Fucking— don’t do that!” You snacked his bicep playfully, earning a soft huff of amusement from him.

“Don’t do what? I’m just standing here.” Rodger mysef with faux innocence.

You simply replied by rolling your eyes and stepping under the yellow police tape and dusting yourself off. “Don’t play dumb…” you said with a snicker.

There was a moment of tense silence between you two, until Rodger suddenly asked, “Would you be interested in coming back to my office to continue this investigation?” It seemed like he didn’t process fully what he’d said either, as the glass where his ‘cheeks’ would be grew a slight rosy color.

You processed it before holding back laughter from his awkwardness. “Pff… Yeah, sure I will. I just gotta get some of this evidence on ice first, see you later.” You smiled and purposely bumped your arm with his.

And with that, you got into the back of the truck either the other forensic investigators, shutting the doors behind you before it drove off.

Rodger sighed wistfully and reached inside his trench coat, pulling out a small Polaroid of you with red hearts scribbled on the bottom.

The photo was of you working, it was long before you started coming to cases he worked on, long before he needed to pull strings with his rank.

“Soon, my dearest.. soon I’ll have the courage to love you properly.

#x reader #ask box #dandys world #dandy’s world rodger #dandy’s world Rodger x reader #rodger dandys world #dw rodger #Rodger x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #olin responses #sorry for typos #writing #fandom writing #silly ending #not proofread

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baby-tini · 11 months ago

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Yandere ADA!Dazai alphabet plase? You don't have too do them all, just D, A, Z and I

TW- Physical Abuse, Psychological Abuse, Stockholm Syndrome, Manipulation, Controlling Behavior, Victim Blaming, Threat With A Gun, Love-Bombing, Talk Of Murder, Isolation, Implied Murder, Implied Torture

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get? Dazai is very intense when it comes to affection, he's very clingy and you are very rarely away from him, but even when you aren't with him, he'll call and text you a lot, constantly checking up on you and he would even bug your phone with a tracking device or at the very least, he'll hack it too find you. But he does really well with playing it off as if he's being playful or that he's just concerned for you, afterall, he's a detective, he knows the uglies of the world.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling? He's willing too get messy, very messy and he's more then willing too kill for you. But what he's willing too do and what he can do is very different, especially while he's in the agency. He won't kill if he can't get away with it. But also, he doesn't need too kill, especially with his level of intelligence, if there's someone that he doesn't like that's flirting with you, he'll just frame them for a crime. Because who's the police gonna believe? A detective in the ADA, someone who's helped them with cases before, or a suspected criminal who all the evidence points back to?

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them? ADA!Dazai wouldn't abduct you, simply because he can't. Mainly because of his job, especially if you also work for the agency and you go missing, the agency are going too look for you and Dazai knows this. So, he would mostly stick to isolation and not letting you go out too much, or, he'll make up excuses as too why you can't go somewhere or hang-out with someone, which will then cause you too lose all of your family and friends. I do think he would mock you, but only when you're pissing him off, he'll talk about how you have no friends, no family and he'll even threaten too leave you, when you go against him, because then you'll have absolutely nothing and he knows that.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will? He would. Absolutely he would, because what you want doesn't really matter to him. Now, I don't think ADA!Dazai would go as far as too noncon you, but I do think he would give you forced affection. Whether you want too be touched in an affectionate way or not, doesn't matter to him, if he's in the mood too just lay and cuddle with you, you're going too lay and cuddle. So, basically, you have no say in pretty much anything, ever. If he wants something, he's going too have it, it doesn't matter if he has too force it.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling? Not much honestly, even if he is obsessed with you, he still keeps his secrets. He doesn't want you too ever feel comfortable enough too make you think that you can exploit him in anyway. Now, sure, he'll have his vulnerable moments, he is still human after all, but he's really good at playing it off as if it was a joke and he wasn't very serious.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back? He'd be quite amused actually, he'd find your whole show quite the entertainment. But also in perfect Dazai fashion, he'd make you feel like you're doing too much, as if you're getting so worked up for no reason. If you ever did get so angry to the point where you attempt too get physical with him though, he wouldn't be so amused.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape? Yes and no. Yes simply because that's who he is, he likes too play mind games with literally everyone and he takes an immense amount of pleasure in fucking with peoples head. But also no because he does have a genuine interest in you, whatever that may be and he doesn't want you too think that he doesn't care for you at all. As for escaping, there's no real escaping simply because he's not holding you hostage but he does hate when he doesn't know where you are, so no, he doesn't.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them? The worst experience you ever had with Dazai is when you tried too break up with him. It was when the two of you had a really bad argument, and again, he was trying too minimize the situation and that pissed you off even more and the words just came out. That's when you saw his eyes just go dark and become empty as he stepped towards you, the air noticeably becoming thicker as he stared you down. You found out just why Dazai was a torture specialist in the mafia that night.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling? Dazai just wants too be happy and not constantly worry about you leaving or getting hurt, his ideal future would just be you being with him. He wants a happy life, he doesn't want too constantly dwell on the negatives of his life; if it's with you, he doesn't mind what kind of future.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope? Jealousy isn't really a big thing for Dazai, he's a very confident person. Now, playfully he'll act jealous and become all clingy if your attention is directed at someone else. But, if he were too become genuinely jealous, well then... things would get very ugly as he stares the person down, his eyes lacking all emotion as he pulls you away with him. If he's angry enough though, you might just see a news story about them, reporting his mysterious death.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling? He's very loving with you, very touchy and sweet overall. You guys look ideal out in public, it's just behind closed doors when things can get a little ugly. He does have a reputation out in public so he makes sure too keep himself in check when there are people around, but when you get home, he does a complete 180, especially if you were, in his words, misbehaving in public. But, besides that, he's a pretty good boyfriend.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling? Love-bombing. He's very affectionate, very quickly, never leaving you alone, at all. He's constantly showering you in compliments and giving you gifts, telling you about how you're the first woman he's ever felt this way about, which is true, but he said that the first week of being with you. How the love of his life and he quickly engulfs your life and he gets you too move in with him very soon after being with him, everything happens so fast that it's overwhelming for you, but again, he makes everything feel like it's natural and that's he's just so in love with you that you don't really question him.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else? Yes, they are extremely different. Dazai is very two-faced and puts up a lot of facades. When you met him, he was so sweet and loving and intelligent.. but then his true colors came to the surface and things turned ugly. He started too become controlling and very psychologically abusive. But, that's just how he is in general, he's a manipulator and a very good one at that.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling? You're already in a constant punishment with how much he keeps you isolated, but, he doesn't punish you very often, surprisingly. Simply because anytime you're pissy with him, he won't take you very seriously and he'd much rather cuddle with you then dish out punishments, he's lazy. But when he does, they're very calculated and impactful, he's more focused on breaking you down mentally then actually putting his hands on you, but he'll still spank your ass or give your hair a nice harsh little tug when he needs too.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling? A lot, if not all of them. He becomes quite the controlling boyfriend, he's always asking you where you are and who you're with. He checks your phone constantly, you have no privacy whatsoever, he is in control of your whole life. He tells you what you can and can't where, he talks for you, he orders food for you, he'll bathe you. You will have sense of independence in this relationship, he doesn't even let toy think for yourself, anytime you have an idea he'll shut you down and tell you what he thinks you should do instead.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling? Dazai is a very patient person and it takes a lot for him too actually get to the point of being genuinely pissed off. He can tell when you're purposely trying too piss him off, he knows what you're doing. Sometimes he'll playfully feed into it and pretend too be upset, but again, he can tell what you're doing so he won't feed into all the time.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on? First off, there is no leaving or escaping him, there's no where that you could go and him not find you. He is quite literally a detective, his whole job is finding people, you are no different, he will find you. If you do die though, it would break him quite a bit and he'd drink even more then he already does. It would actually frequent his suicide attempts and they wouldn't be like something like, jumping in the river, no, he'd desperately want too die and be with you.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go? Again, he wouldn't abduct you, he can't. Now, if he over did it with his little mind games and you were genuinely mentally exhausted, he may feel guilt and comfort you. But, usually he doesn't feel guilt because he sees it as something that needs too be done. Letting you go though? No. He would not, he doesn't care about how much you beg and plead for him too let you just be by yourself, and let you go out. Because it's not gonna happen.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)? Loss really. Dazai has lost a lot of people in his life and he's tired of it. So if he has too become a little controlling too keep you safe, so be it. He only wants too keep you safe and he doesn't care what he has too do in order for that too happen. You'll understand one day that he's doing all of this for you.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves? It depends on the reason why you're doing all that, because you'll get a couple different reactions from Dazai. If you're crying because of a punishment, he'll just shrug you off, and tell you that's what you get for misbehaving. If you're screaming because you're frustrated with him because he never listens to you or lets you do things for yourself, he will minimize the problem and make you feel like you're acting over-dramatic. Isolating yourself though, that will not work, if you for example, lock yourself in a room, that's not gonna do anything for you, because he can pick locks and he's quite skilled at it.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere? Sort of, since we're talking about ADA!Dazai, he won't kidnap you. Mainly because he can't, because of his job, especially if you also work for the agency and you go missing, the agency are going too look for you and Dazai knows this. So, he would mostly stick to isolation and not letting you go out too much or he'll make up excuses as too why you can't go somewhere or hang-out with someone.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape? None really. I would say physically, but even then, Dazai can fight, he was in the mafia. No his martial arts aren't as good as that of someone like Chuuyas, but he can still take care of himself in a physical fight. Also, baby he has a gun, and he's shown time and time again that not only does he know how too use said gun but also that he's not afraid too use it. Mentally though, there's no winning there obviously. He is far too intelligent too be thrown off by some meaningless little comment.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling? Yes, he would. I do think he would mainly be psychologically abusive instead of physically abusive. Now I say mainly because, I do think he would still hit you, but Dazais whole thing is mind games, plus people can't see psychological scars like they can with physical scars. Also psychological trauma lasts longer then physical trauma, because scars and bruises will heal. Being psychologically broken down will be much harder too bounce back from, and Dazai understands that.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over? Too win you over, he's pulling out all of the stops, cranking up his charm by tenfold. He'll take you to all these cute places and get you little gifts too charm you. Worshipping you though? If Dazai is in deep enough, he'd see you as like a landline of sorts, and would make sure that you're safe. Probably not to the point where you're a reason for him living, but to the point where he actually starts too enjoy life, because he gets too be with you.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap? Pretty long actually, like I said, he's a very patient man and he can wait. It's a pretty slow thing, especially with all the love-bombing that he uses. He knows you won't just automatically cling to him and go out with him, so he's willing too work for it, but even he can get impatient, especially if you reject him. He will snap and he will become very confrontational, to the point you become scared of him and are only with him out of fear.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling? Not really, and also not fully, it would be more like him getting rid of things that he doesn't like about your behavior because he would find no pleasure in you being a broken shell of your former self. He'd actually find it quite boring in all honesty. If it was something like you constantly challenging him, which would piss him off, he'd correct that behavior. But he wouldn't break you completely because there's a reason that he likes you and once that reason goes away he'd get bored.

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