#he comes to the office to kill you and you just give him your phone and he's chill

[saffusthings]

Baby I Can Feel Your Halo

oscar piastri x personal assistant! reader

summary: the one where the world gets to become familiar with a new name: Y/N L/N. word count: 8.4k warnings: awkwardness, my attempt and poetic writing, poor understanding of how film and media works, Lando as a bit of a side character, poorly edited writing a/n: i can't tell whether this is half decent or nonsensical. inspired by That Viral Interview. i have a soft spot for this part of the story, so i hope you guys are able to like it too.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

She’s going to kill him.

Clicking her phone on to check the time for the umpteenth time as if it will make this stupid elevator go any faster, she lets out a huff. The tapping of her shoe acts as a placebo, perhaps. Or maybe this elevator is actually getting slower-

When the metal gates finally part, she bolts. As gracefully as one can, she awkwardly half-run, half power walks past the hall of doors until she reaches Room 307.

She doesn’t even pretend to knock. Glancing at her phone one more time - 27 calls - she slips a plastic card from the lanyard around her neck. When it beeps, flashing green, the door opens with a click, allowing her to storm in.

To her credit, she at least waits for the door to close before she yells.

“Oscar Jack Piastri!”

Oscar wakes to a fire. Or at least that’s what he has to assume is happening, considering someone is screaming his name at full volume. Eyelids barely open, he immediately sits up in bed. “M’awake! Jesus, give me a second,” he mumbles, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes.

Tossing him his pants that had been hanging in his closet, she goes around, picking up any stray items. “Put some pants on,” she grumbles. “C’mon get up, we’re already-”

“-running late,” he says defeatedly, eyes landing on the bedside alarm clock. 

When he finally steps out of the bathroom, his brows are scrunched in confusion. She’s typing something on her phone, and definitely not trying not to look at him.

It’s been over a week since their almost-kiss in her office. She’s no rookie, she’s been more than professional since, knowing she can’t risk this. But a small part of her can’t help but think of how close his lips had been to her anytime she’s standing close enough to smell his familiar cologne. 

She’s interrupted from her thoughts by the sound of Oscar’s voice, her thumb still hovering over her phone from her long forgotten text.

Trying to get the swoop of his hair to land in some sane looking way, he gestures to the pine green spread out for him on the bed, the one she insisted he wear. “You sure about this?”

He watches her as she knits her eyebrows together as she gives him the once over. “Yes. You look good in green,” she explains, still entirely absorbed in sending an e-mail to their media liaison.

It’s only once he’s finally dressed that she gets up and gives him a look over. Her lips purse before she motions for him to stand closer. “C’mere.”

She aligns the seams that are supposed to trace along his shoulder, before using her hands to smooth out any wrinkles in the soft fabric. She stands back for a moment, before coming closer again, and pulling his sleeves up just a bit in a way that exposes some of his forearm. Assessing it one more, and seeming content with how it looks, before doing the same to his other sleeve.

Entirely unaware of the chaos his cardiovascular system seems to be undergoing, she gives him one last look over, and wipes a bit of excess moisturizer that had been left on his nose.

“There we go,” she says with a small smile. 

Grabbing her things, she stands at the door before looking back for him. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” he says slowly, patting his pockets and searching the hastily made bed. “Just…”

“Good to go,” he announces, swiping his phone off the bedside table, and tucking into his pocket before following her into the hall. “Where are we headed?”

“They’ve set up in one of the conference rooms near the swimming pool” she says from over her shoulder as they make their way down. “It’s some Australian channel looking to do a segment on their hometown hero, so it should be a safe set. Of course, if they veer off course, let me know and I’ll take care of it. ”

“Will you be there? Or are you headed back to the office?” Oscar asks. His tone makes it difficult to differentiate whether he's nervous, wary, or doesn’t want her to be there, but he hopes she understands anyway. 

“Yep,” she replies, smiling. Oscar wonders why his chest feels warm. 

“That’s my job, remember?” 

When he gets to hair and make-up, he can’t help but feel more than a little lost. Not because of the makeup, certainly - god knows Hattie has tested more than enough ‘smokey eyes’ on him - but rather because when he sits in the chair, the woman immediately asks what kind of look he wants to go for.

Huh?

He looks over to Y/N with desperate eyes. 

Help me, please.

She’s quick to walk over and greet Lindsay, his stylist for today, with a warm smile. Once she’s sure that the stylist is okay with taking recommendations, the rest of it comes easily.

“We’ll wanna do some powder to counter the glare from the studio lights,’ she suggests, glancing at the woman for approval. Tilting Oscar’s face, the two women survey him analytically.

“It’s up to you if you want to add a little warmth, but no blush or color corrector or anything like that. And then his hair looks good like this, so we don’t need to do anything there. How does that sound?”

The elder woman nods in agreement before pointing at different parts of Oscar’s face and mumbling somethings to Y/N who nods along thoughtfully. 

Finally, he’s left at the mercy of his stylist, as Y/N walks away.

Once the mic checks are complete and the people behind the large lights give the go ahead, one of the employees counts off the seconds before the cameras start recording.

Oscar spends those seconds looking over to wherever she is. She’s stood by one of the people carrying a large white panel, watching on to make sure everything runs smoothly. They’ve done this dance probably dozens of times, but the buzzing lessens once he assures himself that she’s still in the vicinity. 

He watches her nod, giving him a reassuring smile, and then, Oscar is ready.

“And cameras are rolling 5… 4… 3… 2… 1.”

“We’re here now with Oscar Piastri,” the host says with a warm smile, “now in his second year of representing Australia in the highest level of motorsport - Formula One. Thank you so much for joining us, Oscar.”

“Of course, thank you for having me,” Oscar smiles, that polite cat smile that’s become associated with his name. “Just Oscar, is usually fine though,” he jokes, never one to feel too comfortable with high praise. The host laughs good naturedly, “Oh, the boy’s got jokes now, does he?“ Oscar seems to glow in the spotlight. Something about him, even in front of  the cameras, seems to radiate comfort, familiarity. Even on TV, even with his rising stardom, his laidback posture and the crinkle around his eyes when he smiles suggests that he could be the boy next door, that he could be your boy next door. The cameras are not the only thing focused on him. “So Oscar, not sure if you remember, but you did a sit-down with us last year as well.” “Of course. I don’t forget that easily, Mick,” the driver replies easily. “I’m not that old.” “No, no, in fact, you’re quite young aren’t you? Only 23 and already in your second year of Formula 1.” “Yeah, feels a bit strange when you say it like that,” Oscar chuckles, “but yeah. It’s been a bit of a wild ride.” Mickie smiles. “One year closer to retirement, I imagine?”

“God no,” Oscar scoffs, shifting in his seat to get a bit more comfortable. He looks more relaxed this way, more open. “I’m not leaving without a championship, so you’ll be seeing me around for a while. Sorry to disappoint.” Laughing good naturedly, the older man shakes his head. “Far from it. You’re a hometown hero. You’ve got everyone here rooting for you,” he tells him, gesturing to the crew around them.” Smiling gratefully, Oscar nods. “Yeah, I’ve been pretty lucky with all the support. That always makes a difference.” “I’m sure it does. Who would you say are your biggest supporters?” “My parents, for sure. I’m sure there’s a clip of my mom talking about my… let's call them oddities, as a child,” Oscar laughs, referring to his habit of make-believing as a car around the house, or how he wanted car magazines read to him instead of bedtime stories. “If they hadn’t put up with me through that, there’s no way I’d be here now.” It’s clear as day that beneath the thin film of humor, there’s a chasm of sincerity. He really does love his family - always making time to call them during long trips away or even just because. Working on media with Oscar is (usually) pleasant for that same reason - you don’t have to give him PR-written responses or pre-plan his anecdotes to make the audience fall in love with him. He tells the truth, and they can’t help but fall in love all on their own. “I’ve also got other supporters too. Silent supporters, I guess you could call them, since you all don’t see their faces as much. But my sisters, my team, Y/N, the fans - they are the reasons I get to live my dream everyday.” Mickie nods in acknowledgement. “Of course. Though I see we’re name dropping now,” he teases. Oscar looks up at him, mild panic hidden behind his eyes. He’s only just about to adjust his cap - a predetermined signal to Y/N that he needs her to intervene somehow - when Mickie interrupts his train of thought. “You mentioned Y/N as one of your supporters. Could you tell us a bit more about that?” When Oscar looks at the man with the salt and pepper hair, he doesn’t see the usual malice or hunger that many reporters would have if they had been in the same position. Mickie has been good to him and his team in the past - not coming off as a dog with a bone, but instead as an easy conversationalist who happens to be genuinely curious about Oscar and his life. The young driver recovers easily from his momentary scare. “Oh, yeah. Y/N’s definitely one of my greatest supports. I’d tell you all that she works for me, but I think she might poison my coffee if I did that.” The two share a laugh, easing Oscar’s nerves a little. He subtly adjusts his watch instead.

It’s alright, I got it.

From behind the cameras, Y/N takes a small breath of relief. Though she’s pleased the conversation didn’t take a turn for the rumor mill, she’ll still be a little on edge anytime her driver is in the media’s playpen.

“Alright then. Without risking your coffee, what can you tell us then? That’s not a name we’ve heard too often around the paddock.”

“Yeah, I mean. It’s a shame too - she’s supposed to be my assistant, but with how much she’s involved in everything, we might have to come up with a better title for her,” Oscar smiles easily. Mickie gives him a smile, straightening his notecards into a neat stack. “Is that so? Must be high praise, coming from a big-shot like yourself.” The air is pleasant, the conversation flowing naturally. Even as an observer, the scene could almost be mistaken for a casual chat in a living room somewhere. Oscar shakes his head. “Not enough, actually. When I say I wouldn’t be here without her, I mean it literally. If she hadn’t come to my rescue this morning, I’d probably still be in bed!” Mick leans over, laughing. “Glad to see how much you value our time here together, Oscar!” “Even if I did, I value my sleep more,” Oscar deadpans, a sly smile on his face. “I don’t envy her job, not in the slightest.” “Fair enough, fair enough.” The conversation makes its own way from there - Oscar’s goals for this year, what people can expect from the team this season, how the new car has been. 

“So what I’m hearing is that we have a promising season ahead?”

“I mean, every season looks promising at the start really, but yeah, I have a good feeling about this one. Cautiously optimistic, we’ll call it.” “Well I’m sure I’m not the only one when I say that I can’t wait to see what you have in store for us this season, Oscar.” “Wow, no pressure there. Thanks, though.”

The two share a laugh. It’s getting closer to the end of the segment, but with some time remaining. Mickie decides to take the conversation in a different direction. “Now that we’re done with all the shop talk.” he starts. “I was wondering if you could tell us what Formula 1 has been like for you personally. Last time around, during your rookie season, you mentioned that the intensity of the training and the magnitude of the races were some of the things that took some getting used to. Would you say the same is true now, or have you gotten used to it?” Oscar nods, thoughtful. “Yeah, I mean, your rookie season is always an adjustment. It took me some time to get used to that stuff, and I’d say I’m better at it now,” he answers honestly. “But that doesn't mean there aren’t still things I’m learning to get used to.” “What kind of things?” “As you can probably tell, the time zones are one thing,” he laughs, animatedly gesturing to where his eye bags would be. For a second, there’s silence as he’s given a moment to think, before he finally speaks again. “I’d say the people, too.”

“The drivers, the teams, or the fans?” Mick asks curiously. “The fans are pretty great,” he tells him. “But I think I meant like the drivers and their teams?”  Oscar tries to explain. “Like, you have to understand that there’s so many people in this complex machine that is Formula 1. And every single person that’s there, is because they’ve got this insane drive to win - that includes the drivers, of course, but the engineers, and the strategists, and the trainers too.”

“Tell me a bit more about that.”

“I mean, like, even in Formula 2, with Prema, there was a certain level of friendship and camaraderie that gets overshadowed in Formula 1, because of just how competitive everything is,” he explains, gesturing with his hands. “It’s crazy how the drivers flip a switch for lights out or the chequered flag, because that’s what comes with competing at the highest level.”

The host nods, making an effort to understand.

“Would you say it strains relationships then? This sort of… dual personality that you and the other drivers have to have?”

“Honestly. To some degree, I imagine it has to. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be friendly with one another.”

“You’d mentioned earlier this year, in an interview with your company Quadlock, actually, where they asked you if you had any mates on the grid, and you replied with…” Oscar chuckles shyly, recalling the moment. “No friends, only enemies,” he quotes himself. “Exactly,” the older man chuckles. “Would you say the same is true for you now?” “The honest answer would be yes and no.” The man sitting across from Oscar raises an eyebrow at this, intrigued. “When you live in that bubble with people that are, at their core, just as competitive as you are..” he trails off, contemplating how to phrase it. “Let’s just say it has an interesting way of showing you who your friends and your enemies are.”

“And has it?” Mick asks genuinely. “Shown you your friends, I mean?” Oscar takes a breath before replying. “I mean, of course. There’s Lando, y’know - as my teammate, he’s always my greatest competitor but also the only one who can kind of understand where I’m coming from. Logan, also - you know we grew up through the lower Formulas together. He and I have been teammates in the past too, so it’s nice to have an old friend on the grid. Y/N too, y’know - we’re pretty close in age, and she’s really been there for the highs and the lows.”

“We’ve seen you interact with Logan and with Lando, but what would you say your friendship with Y/N is like?”

“I mean, we work together, so a lot of it comes from that,” he shrugs, not wanting to slip up and say the wrong thing. He signed up for the spotlight, but putting his assistant, his friend there without discussing it with her would be unfair.

“We work in tandem, you see - she takes care of everything outside the car, while I take care of everything in it.”

The interviewer hums thoughtfully. “That sounds like a dynamic that requires a lot of trust, I’d say.”

“Maybe, but she hasn’t let me down even once in two years.” For a moment, for a fraction of a second it feels like Oscar’s eyes glance in the direction of where she’s standing with the tech crew, but it must be a trick of her imagination. They’re standing in the shadows, and it’d be a stretch for her to think that he could even see her in the first place. “Not even once.”

“Would you say your friendship complicates this dynamic, or simplifies it?”

“Helps, definitely. Easier to get out of media duties that way,” Oscar jokes. Mickie laughs easily at that, before focusing on the subject once again.

“Really?  You two don’t face any challenges with that? I’d imagine with the other drivers that that boundary is a bit more clear, what with them being your competitors and all.” Oscar lips press together, his tongue subtly running over his lower lip to soothe the pressure. “I think maybe if it were someone else, then it would be. But not with her.“

Looking over to the armchair, he can see that the other man looks surprised. 

“You seem quite confident in saying that.”

“I am,” he says bluntly. Why wouldn’t he be?

“And what inspires that confidence?”

“Just who she is, really, “ Oscar answers with a shrug. On the other side of the room, Y/N waits for a signal that never comes. 

What the hell is he doing? 

This was most definitely not one of the agreed topics for tonight’s show.

“How do you mean?” Mickie can’t help but inquire.

“I mean the obvious thing to say here would be to say that we’re close in age,” Oscar starts, gesturing. “But it really is more than that. I’m lucky to work with an immensely talented team, especially with all the fresh talent McLaren’s brought on board this year.”

“Of course.”

“But as for her in particular…” The blonde seems to think for a minute. “I think, that in order for someone to understand how we work, they’d have to understand how she works,” he muses.

“And how’s that?”

“She’s like the light you need in order to see. With her perspective, her input,  the fundamental way in which she operates - things make sense. She makes things make sense, really - whether that’s logistically, or with the car, and especially with me.”

The words tumble out of his mouth before he can even know what he’s thinking. The tricky thing about this cozy lounge setup that he’s seated in is that, from her,  it looks nothing like the studios and press conferences and media pens that they’re used to. Here, there are no clambering reporters, no flashing cameras, no microphones shoved in his face.

It’s easier to forget that the world is watching.

“It’s a bit unfortunate that the fans watching this don’t get to see her as we do,” he says with a serious expression. “Because it’s hard to describe her personality, or even just her role if you haven’t existed in her orbit. There’s this… this spark that ignites with everything she interacts with.”

Oscar finds himself thinking of everything that happened on the road so far, every step that led them here. All he knows for certain is that his confidence is not unfounded. Sure, things were… less than ideal at the moment, but they’d go back to normal. He knew they would, he was sure of it.

Not so much because Oscar had a plan, but rather because he didn’t know what to do if they didn’t. They’d figure it out - that was their thing, after all.

He’s disturbed from his thoughts by the voice of another.

“A spark?” the older man prompts with a smile.

It’s almost frustrating when the words don’t come fast enough to keep up with his mind.

“When you’re expected to function at the highest levels, there’s a lot of moving parts underneath the shiny cover that no one really tells you about. Y/N has this intuitive sense and this unlearnable skill to take apart the most challenging complexities and put them back together into something wonderful.”

The studio falls silent. 

“She sounds lucky,” Mick offers sincerely.

Oscar laughs dryly. “The way I see it, I’m the lucky one. McLaren certainly is.”

Mickie’s expression is open, leaving the silence available for him to fill.

Oscar, on the other hand, isn’t quite sure how they ended up here. Talking about Y/N wasn’t a preplanned part of the segment, but he doesn’t seem to mind. It’s surprisingly nice to talk about something besides how hot it is in the car or the rabbit food  athletes have to eat or his opinions on the championship standings. 

And it probably doesn’t hurt that talking about her is really quite easy.

“It’s an incredible gift to meet someone who complements each of your strengths and your weaknesses completely. And if that person happens to be someone who can somehow challenge you and support you simultaneously, then there’s nothing more that I need.”

The boom mic edges closer to the stage setup, careful not to enter the cameras’ parameters of visibility. There’s a shift in tone that’s apparent, something curious and authentic that seems to wash across the studio and everyone in it.

“Will we be seeing this dynamic duo in action anytime soon then?” the interviewer asks, charismatically guiding the conversation towards its conclusion.

“I sure hope so. Maybe you guys can finally convince her to do some of those McLaren challenges with us,” Oscar smiles widely, that dorky, lopsided smile of his. “Trust me, I tried, but somehow she won’t let me drive her around for a Hot Lap. Wonder why that is,” he shrugs, before both men share a laugh.

A hand in the dark silently signals for them to wrap up, indicating that the segment must come to an end.

“Well then, Oscar I see we’re being told to wrap,” he smiles, glancing over in the direction of the crew. Both men begin to go to stand up, extending their arms for a friendly handshake.

“Thank you so much for joining us once again. As always, it was a pleasure, and I know I speak for everyone here at Down Under Daily when I say that we can’t wait to see what the future has in store for you.”

Oscar nods, smiling, giving the man a firm handshake. “Thank you.”

Once the segment wraps up and the overhead lights come back on, the studio buzzes with the hum of activity. Uniformed crew members unpack and disassemble various machines and setups, beginning to clear out the studio. Oscar glances around, but his gaze keeps drifting back to Y/N, who stands a few feet away, chatting with one of the technicians. Her laughter cuts through the noise, bright and genuine, making something warm unfurl in his chest.

“Hey,” he calls out, a casual attempt to draw her attention. When she turns, their eyes lock, and for a moment, the world around them blurs. There’s something in her expression that sends a jolt through him, a flicker of recognition and a hint of something deeper.

“Hey,” she replies, her smile easy but layered, like they’re sharing some inside joke that only they understand. He shifts slightly, suddenly a bit squirmish under her undivided attention.

Not that he gets squirmish, of course. Oscar is the picture of cool and collected.

As her eyes scan him, she notes the slight flush of his skin, the way the muscles of his face are tense ever so slightly. It’s honestly a bit refreshing to see someone who isn’t always unfazed by it all, she thinks. She does her best to offer him a reassuring smile.

“That went well,” she comments, her voice carrying a lightness that contrasts with the tension simmering beneath the surface. It’s the kind of praise that makes him feel seen, but also a bit exposed.

“Thanks. Couldn’t have done it without you,” he responds, his tone sincere. Oscar isn’t one of those fools who thinks the whole orchestra runs around him. Even  if it did, his mother didn’t raise him to be any bit unappreciative to everyone who works behind the scenes for his successes. He knows she’s more than just an assistant; she’s the one who keeps everything in motion, the anchor in the chaos.

Her gaze lingers on him, and for a moment, the air between them thickens. He’s acutely aware of the distance that’s very much there, yet it feels charged, like static before a storm. “I just do what I can,” she says softly, brushing a loose lock of hair behind her ear—an action so simple, yet watching it feels intimate.

Oscar looks away.

The moment stretches, and he senses a shift, a palpable tension that neither of them is ready to address. Memories of their almost-kiss hang between them, unacknowledged yet ever-present. He wonders if she feels it too, this strange blend of familiarity and hesitation.

The silence is uncomfortable in a familiar way, like the awkward pause that occurs when you can’t decide who should speak first. Oscar even opens his mouth to try to say something - though he’s not sure what - Y/N beats him to it.

“How’re you feeling?” she asks, her tone casual, but he detects a deeper curiosity behind her question.

“I guess just… figuring things out,” he replies, glancing down for a moment as he gathers his thoughts. There’s moments in the midst of the whirlwind of fame and fortune where it all truly feels surreal. Young Oscar always aspired to go fast, to push himself to the limit, to win, but this?

The spotlight, the admiration , the respect, the expectations? It was almost overwhelming, a heavy medal hanging around his neck that he’s still not used to wearing. Especially with the number of people that work day and night to give him a fighting chance at making his childhood dreams into reality, there’s no greater expectation than the one Oscar places on himself.

“Trying to get it right still, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, nodding, her eyes searching his. There’s an intensity in her gaze that makes his heart race, as if she’s peering into the part of him he keeps to himself. Briefly, he wonders if she can read his thoughts sometimes.

Like on one of those teleprompters they use for broadcasts and award shows.

He wants to say more, to delve into this strange thing swirling between them, but the words feel stuck, caught in a web. The awkwardness between them might as well be a loose screw in his car - keeping him at the edge of his seat as he navigates the clunkiness that replaces the flow he’s used to. “I keep waiting to get used to it, but it never seems to happen,” he says finally, hoping to keep the conversation light.

“True,” she agrees, her smile faint but genuine. “But you manage.”

“Most of the time,” he admits, letting out a soft laugh that feels half-hearted, both playful and tinged with something meaningful. Oscar may have grown into this suave, clever, mature personality that he’s recognized for, but there are times when he still feels like the lanky teen with the acne and the too-short hair that climbed into a Formula car that very first time.

As the crew clears the set, Y/N steps back, her focus shifting to the flurry of activity around them. Oscar feels the space between them widen, the moment suddenly dissipating like a whisk of smoke. He wants to reach out, to anchor her back to him, but the tide of reality keeps them away.

“Ready to head out?” she asks, her voice interrupting the stream 0f his personal thoughts. 

“Yeah,” he replies, an uncharacteristic hesitation slipping into his tone. He can feel the warmth radiating off her, and the longing rises within him, a familiar ache that refuses to fade. He elects to ignore it, in favor of using long strides to catch up with her quick ones to follow her out into the hall.

Oscar steals a glance at Y/N, her profile illuminated by the fluorescent lights, and he wonders what it would be like to bridge that gap. He recalls what it had been like the last time he'd been in such proximity to her - felt the warmth of body, the coolness of her breath, the ghost of her lips. For now, though, he settles into the silence, allowing the moment to hang between them.

Y/N leans against the small counter in her hotel room, the yellow light from the lamp seeming to warm the place. She stares at her phone, buzzing with a handful of messages, but her mind is tangled in thoughts of today’s interview. Hearing him casually mention her, smiling as he spoke, had left her feeling a mix of pride and confusion.

As she pours herself a cup of hot tea, she replays the almost-kiss in her mind - the way his breath had caught for just a moment. It felt like a line had been crossed, but they hadn’t addressed it. It hung in the air between them like an uninvited guest, and the last thing she wanted was to ruin the good thing they had.

Her phone buzzes again, the sixth time in the last half hour. This time, however, the contact name reads: Oscar. “How’s your evening?”

“Trying to figure out the chaos that is my notes,” she replies, glancing down at loose pages, and spiral books that are splattered across the coffee table.

“You always have chaos in your notes. It’s part of your charm.” His teases, knowing full well that no matter how chaotic her notes were, they were somehow still always loads better than his hurried scrawl.

The tone of the conversation feels light, teasing, friendly - but she’d be lying if she said it didn’t feel like something more—an unspoken understanding that neither of them wants to acknowledge.

“Charm, huh? I prefer to think of it as organized chaos.” She takes a sip of the warm herbal tea, now having cooled down to the temperature of her liking. It’s grounding these little rituals - which reminds her that she still needs to change out of her work clothes, maybe shower and do some skincare…

“Sure, if that makes you feel better,” he replies easily. Even just reading the words, she can practically hear the laughter in his voice. 

A moment later, he decides to add, “I was just about to put something on the TV. You in?”

In a hotel room just a ways down the hall, Oscar’s heart rate increases. What the hell are you doing? He chides himself. He feels stupid - things were already weird, and now he probably just made them even weirder.

Relax, he has to tell himself. This isn’t new - in fact, this is normal. Like before - friends, just relaxing together after a long day of work. Airplane games of monopoly, friday happy hours, movie nights - all of this was perfectly normal. Right?

Thumbs still hovering over her keyboard, she hesitates. The idea of sitting together, sharing popcorn and laughter, sounded nice, but there was the lingering possibility that things would be strange instead.

Instead she types out, “Maybe. What are you watching?”

She could use a night off, after all.

“Something mindless, one of those cable shows they have on this thing. You know, to balance all the brainpower we exert during the week.”

She had to admit, he did make it sound inviting.

“Mindless does sound good. I’ll join you.”Oscar props himself up a bit better, leaning back on his elbow. The smile on his face is lit up by the blue light of his phone screen as he reads her reply. Forcing himself out of the unexpectedly comfortable position he’d evolved into, he gets up, phone in hand, before starting to work to make his hotel room look a tad more presentable.

He was not having a repeat of this morning.

He types out a reply. “Great. I’ll set it up.”

There is a brief pause, and he wonders if he should clear the air, just in case. He really does just want to have a relaxing evening with her - it had been a long time since they last had the chance. Conjuring up some courage, he types out another message to her. “So, about the interview…”

Reading that, Y/N’s heart races. She didn’t want to overanalyze his words, but it was impossible not to. She decides to go for the safe answer. “You did well. Really.” So maybe he was just overthinking it. The praise lifts some of the weight off his chest.

“Thanks. Felt good to share some insights. And the part about you… well, it was true.”

Had he really meant all of it?

There’s a fluttering sensation in her stomach. “Just doing my job.”

“No, really. It means a lot to me. You’ve been here through so much of it.”

The sincerity of his words has her forgetting this tension for a moment, allowing it to slip into the back of her mind. They had a rhythm, a friendship built on shared experiences, but now it felt precarious.

“I just want you to succeed, Oscar,” she tells him, words honest. “That’s all.”

“And you’re doing your part brilliantly. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.”

His words hang in the air, thick with unspoken feelings. He’s said those same words a thousand times before, but for some reason, this one makes her heart skip. She shifts her weight, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. 

“So, movie?” she suggested, wanting to steer the conversation away before she can get too caught up in her own messy thoughts..

“Right. I’ll get it ready.” 

Rustling the duvet to make it appear slightly less misshapen. One of his hands seeks the remote to see what’s on at this time, and tries to pick the most tolerable option. Happy with his choice, he stalk over to the other side of his room, the show in the background acting as welcome background noise.

He then pulls out two packets of microwaveable popcorn from the welcome basket that had greeted him when he checked into the room, popping each of them into the microwave so the snack would be warm by the time she arrived.

Y/N stands outside the door to Oscar’s hotel room, feeling a mix of anticipation and nerves. Sure, she could use her emergency key card, but she decides that knocking feels less criminal. She knocks, and immediately the door creaks back to reveal his familiar face. His hair is mussed up, loose locks flopping to one side or the other. Her eyes are fogging with sleep, but  the smile he wears is warm and  sweet.

“Hey! Look who made it,” Oscar teases, stepping aside to let her in.

“Thought I’d save you from another night of mediocre cable,” she replied, a playful smile on her lips. 

She hopes it comes less nervous than she feels.

“Trust me, you’re in for a treat. It’s ‘Chef’s Disaster’ tonight. Guaranteed chaos,” he says,  leading her to the couch.

When she glances at the television that’s playing, she finds scenes of various chefs - forgetting ingredients, leaving the stove on too high,  accidentally dropping their dishes.

“Ah, the best kind of TV,” she laughs, settling in beside him. The pair of them end up on opposite sides of a generously-sized, two-seater couch. Her mind begins to whir, trying to figure out if she’s sitting too far, if it’s too late to scoot a bit closer, would that make things weirder? But when she looks over to Oscar, his relaxed figure sprawled across his side of the couch, the knot in her chest loosens a little. She allows herself to get more comfortable, curling up on her seat. Finally breathing a little bit easier, she allows herself to lean back against the cushioning.

The show flickers on, and they immediately fall into a comfortable rhythm. Y/N reaches for the bowl of popcorn he’d prepared, gathering a handful of pieces to then to slip into her mouth.

They watch as the chefs try to organize their chaos into something presentable, laughing as they watch one of the younger contestants put an unseasoned chicken into the oven.

What happened to salt? Pepper? Common sense?

In the darkness of the room, their faces are lit up only by the glow of the changing scenes flickering across the TV screen. With a subtly yawn, Oscar stretches his arms, before one coincidently drapes itself across the back of the couch, right behind Y/N’s shoulders. He can feel how her hair tickles the skin of his forearm, but it only makes him smile. He’d missed this - time together, the two of them. Life had a funny way of making people feel so close and so far all at once.

When she can’t help but giggle at someone who’d forgotten to put the lid on their blending before powering it on, Oscar can’t help but look at her.

Even at this awkward distance, even with her too far to touch - he feels lucky. He’d be happy to stay like this - to only hear her laugh instead of causing it, to watch her smile from the sidelines -  just to get to be in her orbit at all. 

He wonders if the world might stop spinning on its axis if that wasn’t the case.

His certainly would.

“Okay, chef,” Oscar said, nudging her. “What’s your go-to dish?”

Turning to glance at him, she can’t help but smile. Oscar’s smile is contagious like that, she supposes.

She hums, thinking over his question for a moment.

“Honestly? I make a pretty decent chicken alfredo. You’d be impressed,” she replied, a hint of pride in her voice.

“Pasta, huh? Fancy,” he teases, wiggling his eyebrows at her. His heart does a strange fluttery thing when she laughs. “The only thing I can make reliably is scrambled eggs,” he admits, chuckling.

“Hey, scrambled eggs are a classic! Hell, all the eggs I make end up scrambled. But you should branch out,” Y/N says with mock seriousness, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe I should give you cooking lessons sometime.”

“Deal,” he says, his tone shifting slightly. Raising his hands defensively, he adds, “But no promises on the outcome.”

As they watch the chefs struggle with absurd challenges, the initial awkwardness begins to fade. They exchange jokes about the contestants, their laughter echoing off the walls. They laugh until their stomachs hurt, adding in their own commentary until there are tears in their eyes and their cheeks hurt from laughing. “I actually hate you,” she wheezes, throwing her couch cushion at him. “My nonexistent abs hurt, you asshole. Can’t you be a little more considerate?”

He catches her projectile weapon with an exaggerated ‘oof’, defending himself. “I was just providing valuable insights, really.”

The silence that settles thereafter as they try to catch their breaths is comfortable in the way that graceful snowfall is - familiar and calming, peaceful.

“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever cooked?” he asks, turning to her.

Y/N has to hold back a giggle, recalling a memory. She can’t remember how long its been since she was able to let loose like this. “I once tried to make soufflé. I think by the time I was done with it, it fell under the legal definition of what the pros call, ‘hazardous materials.’”

Oscar bursts out laughing, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “That’s a tragedy! You should’ve brought it here as a surprise.”

“I’m sure. Next time, I’ll bring my ‘signature’ dish,” she replied, rolling her eyes playfully.

Tilting her head back, she lets her eyes slip closed for a second just basking in whatever this is. It’s difficult to think of the right word for it, but quite frankly, she doesn’t care. She just wants to bottle it up and keep it with her forever. Just as they start to find that comfortable groove, a sharp knock interrupts them. Immediately, they both lift their head to turn to look in the direction of the offending sound.

“You expecting someone?” Y/N asks, her heart sinking slightly. She tries to push the feeling away. “Who is it?”

“Probably someone who doesn’t know the meaning of ‘do not disturb,’” Oscar grumbles, shaking his head as he gets up to walk over to the door.

He stands up and walks toward the door, leaving Y/N to focus on the flickering screen. But her mind drifted back to the lingering tension between them, their easy banter feeling suddenly fragile.

She nervously fixes her hair, tucking the loose strands behind her ears. Making sure she looks professional enough - and not like they were sitting a mere centimeter apart - she turns toward the door. Finally, he slides the pin aside, unlocking the door as he pulls it back.

“Who is it?” she asks him quietly.

There’s a pause for a moment, before Lando’s familiar voice calls through. “It’s me,” he replies, and Oscar seems visibly annoyed. Lando peers over Oscar’s shoulder, noting Y/N perched on one of the couches in the room.

Good, both of them were here. That’d make this a bit easier.

“You need to see this,” Lando tells them, careful to keep his tone even. Oscar nods, stepping aside and opening the door wider to allow Lando in.

“Yeah, of course. Come on in,” she replies at the same time, making sure she looks presentable. Hopefully whatever Lando has to say will save her from whatever awkwardness was probably about to ensue.

Lando pushes into the room and instantly notices that the vibe is… something. It’s *very* obvious that he’s interrupted something, but he doesn’t comment on it. 

Interesting. He files the information away for later.

Instead, he holds his phone out in front of him, a news article pulled up on the screen.

“What is it?” Oscar asks, his gaze flickering between Lando and the screen.

Lando points to the small picture in the article, and Oscar’s jaw clenches, the muscle on the side of his face visibly pulled tight. Lando observes his teammate’s reaction, before he looks over to meet Y/N’s eyes. 

“You might want to read this,” he says gently, his voice low. “You’re mentioned in it.”

That doesn’t sound right.

“I- What?”

Lando briefly wonders what the likelihood is that the ground will physically swallow him whole. Or that he might turn invisible. Or anything that means he doesn’t have to explain this.

“I don’t-“ He cuts off, struggling to put his words together, sighing. “I don’t know how they got their information, but some of these details…”

Seeing Lando - normally smiley Lando - looking so painfully neutral despite the anxiety that flashes in his eyes, feels deeply unsettling. Like dark clouds at a wedding or an empty chair at a birthday party, seeing Lando like this feels ominous, wrong.

He hands her the phone, watching her as she takes it and begins to scan the text. Words and letters blend into a blur, her eyes reading through the article - speculation after speculation on her current health status and how she got hurt. It reads less like news and more like pure gossip tabloid rumors. 

There’s an odd sinking in her chest, some muscle winding itself tighter and tighter.

She can’t stop reading it, standing eerily still. Hidden amongst this clear violation of the privacy she’s held sacred for so long are some very specific facts that only Oscar and a select few other people should be able to know and recognize. 

“This is-“ she starts quietly, her breath hitching in her chest.

It’s quiet. “This is bad.”

Her eyes continue to scan the article, and her mouth goes dry. Even when she knows it’s all mostly bullshit, there’s still a part of her that feels a little violated, like there’s suddenly not enough oxygen in the room. This is her life - her past and her trauma put on display. The most traumatic years of her life suddenly available for the whole world to read about. 

She reads it yet another time, uselessly hoping for something to change, for the words to transform or dissipate like the final wisps of a nightmare.

“One has to ask—can you really call it a "dream job" when it lands you in the ER? Y/N L/N is clearly in need of a reality check. Whispers from insiders paint the picture of a young woman entangled in a life of chaos, fueled by impulsive decisions and reckless relationships. Is she simply a victim of her surroundings, or is there a more troubling narrative at play? Recently, Y/N was hospitalized with troubling injuries: extensive bruising and a suspected concussion, allegedly the result of a wild night that spiraled out of control. Sources suggest her aggressive tendencies may have exacerbated the situation, raising alarms about her behavior and its implications for McLaren. As Y/N navigates her tumultuous life, her influence over rising star Oscar Piastri comes into question. McLaren must now confront the uncomfortable truth: her erratic behavior could endanger Piastri’s career and the team’s reputation. The last thing they need is a scandal, especially when they’re striving for excellence on and off the track. The team's efforts to sweep this under the rug hint at deeper issues within their camp. Insiders are growing increasingly concerned that Y/N’s instability could tarnish McLaren’s hard-earned image, especially as rumors circulate. As Y/N begins her recovery, the pressure mounts on McLaren to manage the fallout. Fans and sponsors alike are watching closely, and the stakes couldn’t be higher. Ultimately, the future for Y/N is uncertain. Will she take this opportunity to change her trajectory, or will she continue to spiral, jeopardizing not only her own future but also the stability of McLaren? The racing world waits with bated breath, knowing that every decision could have lasting consequences.”

Lando’s expression is sympathetic as he watches her pale. Something guilty settles in his gut - he knows he didn’t cause this, but he doesn’t know how to protect her from it either. Lando has always held loyalty so close to his chest - growing up famous at such a young age forces you to learn that lesson quickly.

It's easy, then, to understand why Lando is the way he is. He's known for his friendly personality - his charismatic charm and his easy laugh - but there are a select few which Lando considers his closest friends. Those are people he answers even in the middle of the night, the ones he’d fly across the world to be there for.

But Y/N is standing in front of him like the very ground  has been pulled from beneath her feet and he can’t do a fucking thing. 

“Um, it’s- it’s okay,” she stammers, voice shaky. She tucks her hair behind her ears again, but they were never loose in the first place. A fragile mask of calm slips over her face, a familiar trick she’s performed thousands of times before

“I can take care of this. I- I’ll take care of this.”

Her heart feels like it’s stuttering in her chest but she knows better than to show it. Taking a short breath, she whirls around to make a beeline for her office. She’ll need to make a few calls, send emails to various liaisons and communication personnel, maybe reach out to HR and PR too-

“Hey, hey, stop.” Oscar reaches out and gently wraps his fingers around his bicep, spinning her around gently to face him. His eyes are worried as he searches hers for something true. He’s seen her upset before, but now her face is pale in a way he’s never seen before.

“Oh, right,” she chuckles awkwardly, suddenly remembering. “Lando, your phone.”

She holds the phone with the article displayed on it for Lando to grab, but she eyes the device like it’s very presence is toxic. She chuckles, but the sound is high pitched and forced. “Sorry, almost forgot!”

Lando slowly takes his phone from her, his eyes flickering between his friends for a moment.

“No worries, s’fine,” he says carefully, his eyes not leaving her face. “Are you actually okay?” That’s a stupid question, you idiot.

“Me?” she asks, as if caught off guard. “Yeah, yeah! I’m fine,” she answers, waving him off.

Oscars expression is stern, unconvinced - and he doesn’t bother to hide it.

“You seem a little, uh, upset,” he says delicately, his gaze flitting to her shaking hands. He immediately looks away, not wanting to draw any attention to it. He doesn’t want her to feel exposed.

“No it’s-” horrible, she wants to say. Instead, what comes out is, “It’s okay. I’m just trying to figure out what I need to do, that’s all.”

He hesitates, his brows furrowing at her attempts to downplay what’s happening.

“And your first thought is to go work?” he points out, a small hint of accusation in his tone.

It’s like she doesn’t even hear him.

“I’m going to fix this,” she tells him, giving both of them her most convincing smile, even as the corners of her mouth threaten to twitch downward.

Breathe.

And with that, she sees herself out of the room, already planning each action she needs to set into motion. She’s going to fix this.

a/n: thank you for reading this far! feedback means a lot to me. your likes, comments, reblogs, asks - that's the only way i can tell if you like the story so pls pls pls! all the feedback!!!

[spring-lxcked]

forever in agreement that giving sp.ringtrap like. an iphone or ipad would be so funny.

[laiiaaa]

Your writing is stunning! Can I request injured!reader and Carmy rushing to be by her side? god the idea of that man dropping everything to be with you....

this has been in my drafts for probably a year now. i forget why i was hesitant to post it. so here’s something for you all :)

“Hey, Cousin—”

“I’m in the middle ‘f something, not now, Richie—”

“Hey.” He raises his brows, gives that serious look that has Carmen’s head peeking over his shoulder because it’s so sharp he can feel it. “It’s your girl. You wanna take this.”

He gets nervous, then, heart beginning to race. Where’s his fuckin’ phone?

“Give it here,” he says, arm extended. Richie hands it over and slips out the door, shutting it to leave Carmen by himself in the office; it only makes hurt stomach lurch harder.

He lifts the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“. . . Carm?” Your voice is broken and wobbly, wrought with tears.

“Baby?” He doesn’t even think before he’s jumping out of his chair, tucking the phone between his jaw and shoulder while he scrambles to find his keys. “Baby, you there? Where are you?”

“I-I’m at the hospital, I tried calling you—”

“The hospital—?” His mind goes back to New York, back to that morning. “What—” He takes a deep breath. His jacket. Where the fuck is it? “Okay, you’re okay, I’m comin’ now, alright?” He storms out of the office toward the lockers, finds everything right where he put it, including his phone. Dead. Fuck. “I gotta hang up, okay? I’m sorry, I know, I can’t take the phone with me. I’ll be there soon, I promise.”

“O-Okay.” A shuddered breath rings through the line, and it kills him. “I’m okay, Carmy—”

“I know,” he says, shimmying into his jacket and feeling for his keys. “I know, baby, but I’m comin’ anyway, you hear me? Gonna be there in ten.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. I love you.”

He doesn’t put the phone back properly, just slides it across the counter and hopes it doesn’t break again, shouting out orders over his shoulder on his way out the door.

The ride there is the longest ten minutes of his life. He doesn’t know what to expect. He doesn’t know anything at all, really. Are you hurt? How bad is it? What happened? Is it a burn, a broken bone, just a flu that got out of hand? Will you need surgery? Did you get in an accident? Did someone try to hurt you? He doesn’t want you to be alone right now. He needs to be there with you. You were fine this morning. You were fine this morning, all beautiful and groggy when he kissed you awake, still cozied up in bed when he left early as the sky turned blue after sunrise. You were fine. You were fine, and then he left, and suddenly you weren’t.

The fluorescent lights make him nauseous. They’re too bright, and a disgusting color, and too different from all the gentle lighting you insisted upon at home. Made the place homey, you said, and he agreed. The nurses at the station must think he’s out of his mind, all wide-eyed and asking for you.

“What’s your name?” the one asks him.

“Carmen, I’m her fiancé, I was—I was just on the phone with her—”

“Okay,” she nods, softening. “She’s doin’ alright now, she was askin’ for you, though. Still gotta get her wrapped up, but you’ll be outta here soon.”

He’s too busy wondering What the fuck does that mean? to properly answer.

When he’s finally brought to your room, his nerves subside—only a little. There’s no blood, no bland hospital gown to say you’re headed off to the operating room. Just a pillow over your tummy, with your arm—your swollen, bruised arm—resting on top of it.

“Hey, hon,” he says, coming to your bedside and smoothing a hand over your forehead to press his lips to your temple. “You alright? What happened?”

“They—” you sniffle when you look up at him, lip quivering— “They had to take my ring off, Carmy—” he nods along to your rambling with a concerned brow— “I-I told them not to, but they said my hand was too swollen—that-that it was gonna mess up my finger—. . .”

“What’s that, baby?” He smiles into your hair and exhales through his nose. So typical of you to get upset about something cute like that, he knows you’ll be okay. “Your arm’s all black ‘n blue, and you’re worried about your ring—?”

“But it’s special—”

“Shhhhh . . . I know, I know . . . ‘m just askin’ you to ease up.” Another kiss lands on your forehead before he asks, “Where’s it at, baby? I’ll fix it for you.”

You pout and look somewhere behind him. “On the table, but you’re not gonna be able to—”

“Just take a breath ‘n relax f’me, yeah? I got it.”

He stands upright again, turning to check that the ring is there—that beautiful, beautiful big diamond for his precious girl, before reaching toward the nape of his neck to unclasp his chain. Carefully, he threads it through the ring, silently urges you to sit up so he can hook it around your neck, icy-cool on your smooth skin, admiring the way it sparkles like your eyes.

You’re still pouting when he’s done, and he kisses your soft lips anyway while he wipes away stray tears. “Better?”

“. . . yeah,” you admit through a murmur.

“Good,” he huffs, pulling the visitor’s chair right next to your bed. With your good arm, you reach for him, just any part of him, and he holds your hand as he kisses your dry knuckles. “You gonna tell me what happened now? What’s got you all banged up?”

And you groan and roll your eyes, insisting that it’s too embarrassing to tell, and he lets you drag it out just because he thinks it’s cute when you’re stubborn. The doctor comes in with the x-rays to confirm that, yes, indeed, you’ve got yourself a broken arm, and after you’re splinted and discharged and given a sling and the next day’s protocol, Carmen holds your good hand on the way out the door.

“Oh,” you start, pausing before he opens the car door for you, “I forgot to tell you.”

“Hm?”

“I drove here.”

“You what?”

“I told you, I was embarrassed, Carm—”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, baby,” he grunts, laughing and shaking his head with fingers running through his hair as he helps you into the passenger’s seat. “You’re killin’ me today, y’know that?”

And it’s not the last time. When he unlocks the front door and sees the laundry spilled all the way down the stairs, with a basket flipped upside down at the bottom, he can put the pieces together. He kisses you softly, doesn’t say a word about it, takes you to the bedroom, and tucks you into bed to let you rest now that your adrenaline is wearing off and the pain meds are making you sleepy.

He fixes up the mess without a second thought, and once he’s done he slips right under the covers next to you, thanking whatever God there is that you’re okay, and that he’s got you back in his arms.

(And tomorrow, when he takes you into the doctor’s office for a proper cast, he has Natalie and Pete pick up your car. He still hounds on you about it weeks later, how you drove yourself to the hospital with a broken arm. You insist it makes for a good story, and to that he can’t deny.)

[justabigassnerd]

Finally Safe

Pairing - Tim Bradford x reader

Word count - 6,179

Warnings - kidnapping, drugging, talks of malnourishment, sad Tim hours, angst, fluff, inaccurate medical scenes, swearing

Summary - after being missing for years, you and Tim are finally reunited

A/N - hey y'all! this was an idea suggested to me by @scarletstarrs so I hope I did your idea justice because I loved exploring this idea so much (and all the angst that came with it). anyways I won't ramble, as per y'all please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

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When Lucy entered the station, ready for the morning roll call, she was both shocked and confused to find Tim Bradford missing from the building. Other than being forced to take leave after being shot, Tim had always shown up to work no matter what.

“Hey, have you seen Tim?” Lucy asks, sitting down in between Jackson and Nolan who both shrug, shaking their heads. Before the three could begin theorising about where Lucy’s training officer had gone, Sergeant Grey stepped up to the podium and began to talk, detailing what was going to be happening during the day. Just before he sends everyone off to start the day, he addresses Lucy.

“Officer Chen, you’ll be riding with me today. Dismissed.” Grey says, his dismissal causing everyone to stand up and make their way out of the room to start their day. As Grey begins to exit, Lucy follows after him.

“Sergeant Grey, while it’s an honour to ride with you today. Where’s Officer Bradford?” Lucy asks, trying her best to sound respectful while enquiring about where Tim is.

“Officer Bradford is taking a personal day,” Grey replies simply, gesturing for Lucy to go and get the war bags to load the shop. At Grey’s gesture, Lucy began to make her way to get the bags, silently wondering to herself why Tim had taken a personal day and whether he was okay.

Across LA, Tim was sitting at home. He had barely had the energy to move out of bed when he woke up but he had managed to drag himself over to the sofa after making sure Kojo had his breakfast. Kojo, while not having lived with Tim long, had picked up on Tim’s melancholy mood and curled up next to him, whining softly as Tim studied a picture on his phone. Tim let out a soft sigh, tears filling his eyes as he studied the picture, a picture of him and you, his wife, on your wedding day. He was embracing you happily, lips pressed to yours.

“I miss you so much,” Tim whispers, unable to remove his gaze from the image of you. You had gone missing three years ago to the day, and Tim could never forgive himself for it. At Tim’s whisper, Kojo shuffled around, resting his head on Tim’s lap, sensing Tim’s pain. Kojo’s movement briefly pulled Tim’s attention away from his phone.

“I’m sorry buddy,” Tim says softly, stroking the top of Kojo’s head. Since you had been taken, Tim had consistently taken a personal day on the date you were taken with each passing year you remained missing. Most detectives involved in your case had told Tim that it was time to give up. The chances were high that whoever had taken you had killed you and had moved on. But Tim wouldn’t just give up on you. He couldn’t. Deep down he knew you were still out there somewhere, and he needed to find you. As Tim continued to swipe through the album of photos he had of you and him, Kojo began to paw at his leg slightly, as if trying to drag him out of his slump.

“I know. Come on, I’ll take you for a walk.” Tim says, knowing that keeping Kojo inside because of his upset would just not be worth it. Tim manages to get up from the sofa, shower and change before grabbing Kojo’s lead. As he left the house with Kojo trotting along by his side, he was silently grateful for the dog’s presence in his life. Before Kojo came around, Tim just wallowed in his house, hiding away from the world when he missed you too much. But now he had someone relying on him, and he couldn’t let Kojo down. After reaching the park, Tim let Kojo off the lead so he could explore while he sat on a bench. As he watched Kojo, he couldn’t help but imagine you sat by his side. You had always wanted to get a dog since long before marrying Tim and he had always put it off, claiming he wanted to wait. He felt so guilty for owning Kojo while you were missing but he knew that when he found you, you’d love Kojo and you’d so quickly become his new favourite person.

After a while, Tim whistled for Kojo to come back over so they could walk back home and as they made their way home, Tim’s phone buzzed, alerting him that he had a message but he opted to wait until he was home to see what it was. When he finally made it home, Tim collapsed onto the sofa and pulled out his phone to see a text from Angela.

‘How are you?’

That simple message was enough to bring the smallest of smiles to Tim’s face. Angela had been Tim’s entire support system since the day you went missing. She had checked in with him regularly and was someone to lean on during his bad days. When she had been promoted to detective, Angela had promised Tim she would do what she could to try and pick up any leads in your missing persons case. Tim had been so grateful for Angela’s support over the last few years, she was the person he needed to help him navigate your absence in his life.

‘Could be better.’

Tim could never lie to Angela. She had ways to see right through him, even over text so he knew there was no point even attempting to act like he was feeling okay on a day like this.

‘Do you want to come over? Have some company?’

Angela’s offer of company was not unusual, although the last few times Angela had asked if he wanted her to come over after her shift had finished, but now with her on maternity leave, both she and Tim had a whole day to console each other.

‘That would be nice. I’ll be over in a few.’ 

Tim types out and sends his response, once again forcing himself up from the sofa and petting Kojo, promising him he’d be back soon before grabbing the keys to his truck and making his way to Angela’s house.

When he arrived he barely even knocked on the door before Angela opened it, a soft gentle smile on her face as she took in Tim’s appearance. It was obvious to her that he hadn’t slept well the night before but she couldn’t blame him. If Wesley had gone missing she knows she’d be absolutely beside herself with worry and anticipatory grief.

“Come and sit down,” Angela says softly, resting a hand on Tim’s back and guiding him to the sofa, easing herself down alongside him, her gentle hand never leaving his back as she moves it up to rub his shoulder lightly. For a few minutes, the two of them sit in silence before Tim lets out a shuddering breath.

“I miss her so much.” Tim manages to say, his voice choking as tears begin to well in his eyes.

“I know, Tim,” Angela says sympathetically, her hand continuing to rub soothing circles on his shoulder in an attempt to keep his breathing steady.

“It hurts.” Tim manages to say, hand hovering near his heart, swearing he could feel his heart pounding louder and stronger with each second.

“I can’t imagine the pain. But I’m here for you. You’re not alone.” Angela says softly, feeling her heart break more and more at Tim’s broken state. She was the only person who got to see this side of Tim in these moments and it made her more and more determined to find you. After a few moments of comforting whispers from Angela and teary sniffles from Tim, he turned to face her, eyes still shining with unshed tears.

“Do you think we’ll even find her alive?” Tim asked, uncharacteristically pessimistic about your case, making Angela shocked.

“She’s got to be out there somewhere. And we’ll find her.” Angela says, pulling Tim into a careful hug.

“It’s my fault she’s gone,” Tim mutters against her shoulder, a confession no one had heard from him before.

“Don’t say that. You’re not to blame.” Angela says, pulling away slightly to look him in the eyes as he shakes his head.

“I am.” Tim insists, his right hand moving to fiddle with his wedding ring, a movement Angela didn’t miss. She knew he would take the ring off when he was on duty, but when he was off duty it would be restored to its rightful place and he’d often find himself twisting it around on his finger out of habit.

“Why do you say it’s your fault?” Angela asks tenderly, hoping she’d be able to help Tim realise that it wasn’t his fault.

“We had an argument that night. A stupid one at that, I can’t even remember what it was about, maybe about chores or something? But y/n got pissed at me and she said she needed to go on a walk to clear her head. I was pissed too and the moment she left I just decided to go to bed. I was too angry to do anything else. If I had gone after her none of this would’ve happened. She’d still be here with me.” Tim whispers, feeling like his throat is closing more tears welling in his eyes as he relives that night.

“Where are you going?” Tim asks, pausing his angry pacing to glare at you from across the room.

“For a walk. I can’t be around you right now.” You reply, your voice just as venomous as his as you grab your keys, reaching for the door handle.

“Fine.” Tim spits angrily, turning on his heel and stalking off again as you open the door, exiting and angrily closing the door behind you while Tim storms to the kitchen, grabbing himself a beer from the fridge.

After a couple of beers, Tim decided it wasn’t worth staying up waiting for you any longer. You had taken your keys and he knew you’d come back whenever you were ready to so he took himself to bed, practically passing out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

The next morning, Tim woke up and found your side of the bed still empty, and when he reached across to search for any remaining body heat, he found that your side was still cold, like no one had slept in it all night. Figuring you had spent the night on the sofa, Tim sat up and got himself out of bed, all anger from the night before gone.

“Hey, Baby, I’m sorry about last night.” Tim enters the living room, rubbing his eyes as he enters, stopping in his tracks when he realises you’re not in the room, nor was there any evidence you had even slept on the sofa. At the sight of the empty room, and your keys still missing from the key bowl, Tim felt his stomach turning with anxiety. He just knew something bad had happened to you. You wouldn’t just go silent on him or not come home at all.

After trying to call your phone and getting no answers, Tim knew he had to file a missing persons case when he got to work. He wasn’t going to rest until he found you.

“Tim, listen to me. It is not your fault. You couldn’t have known. Neither of you could’ve known there would be a psycho out there. You can’t blame yourself for something you never could’ve anticipated.” Angela says softly, her voice shaking Tim from his thoughts. She could imagine the guilt Tim was feeling, but she knew it wasn’t his fault.

“It is. If I had just-”

“Okay, I’m going to stop you right there. There’s nothing you could’ve done. I know just as well as you that y/n is stubborn as anything, so if she wanted to go and get some air after your argument then she would’ve done it regardless. You can’t predict the future and y/n wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.” Angela says, her voice was soft yet firm so she can get her point across to Tim. She knew Tim had a habit of blaming himself for things out of his control but she had no idea that he had carried guilt from your disappearance silently and had been beating himself up about it for so long.

“I just need to find her. I need her safe and home with me. I didn’t even tell her I loved her the last time I saw her.” Tim says, fiercely wiping at his eyes to stop any tears from falling.

“I’m working with detectives to pick up the dead ends from y/n’s case. One of them will lead us somewhere I’m sure. Between you and me, working y/n’s case is the only work Wesley is okay with me doing while on maternity leave. He knows how important it is to us and he’s promised me that if we catch the asshole he’d ensure he spends the rest of his life behind bars.” Angela says reassuringly, wanting to help restore Tim’s faith in finding you.

“Thank you, Angela,” Tim says quietly with a nod. With the topic seeming to be at an end, Angela decides to change the subject and while Tim had always jokingly complained about helping Angela with wedding planning, he was more than happy to do so on this day. While he helped Angela plan various parts of her wedding, he couldn’t help but think about the time he had spent planning his wedding with you.

“Tim, we can’t seat my uncle next to your brother-in-law!” You exclaimed with a laugh, curling further into Tim’s side as he wrapped his arm around you, chuckling lightly to himself, both of you focusing on the seating chart Tim had drafted.

“Sure we can. It would be hilarious.” Tim says, squeezing you closer, his hand winding around your waist.

“You want our wedding to result in a fistfight?” You say, an amused tone to your voice as you raise an eyebrow.

 “Mmm, might not be the best idea then,” Tim murmurs, leaning close to press a kiss to your cheek.

“The best idea is to make sure they stay as far away from each other as possible.” You muse, unable to stop the smile covering your face as Tim continued to press kisses to your cheek.

“We’ll figure it out.”

By the end of the day, Tim had spent most of his time at Angela’s house and he had been beyond grateful for her company and her willingness to help him through a day like this. When Wesley got home, Tim decided that was when he should be heading home himself, knowing Kojo was probably waiting for him.

“I’ll see you around,” Tim says quietly, giving Angela a gentle hug, pulling away and giving Wesley a friendly nod before making his way out of their house, heading to his truck to head home. Unbeknownst to Tim, the moment he left, Angela’s phone buzzed and when she read the text she knew she had to step into work again. Whether Wesley liked it or not.

The next morning, Angela made her way to the hospital, meeting with other detectives once she got there before being led to a room that had a girl inside. Angela figured she couldn’t be any older than her early twenties. After getting a quick brief from the other detectives, Angela made her way into the room, smiling softly to let her know she wasn’t a threat.

“Hi, Bella. I’m Detective Lopez, but you can just call me Angela.” Angela introduces herself, easing herself down onto one of the hospital room chairs as Bella eyes her carefully. Angela could tell that the last thing Bella wanted was to be questioned but it was protocol, whether she liked it or not.

“I promise I’ll make this quick, just tell me what happened,” Angela assures, pulling out her notepad and pen.

“A few months ago, some guy grabbed me off the street while I was making my way home. He kept calling me ‘Samantha’ the whole time. No matter how many times I told him my name was Bella he just ignored it.” Bella explains, tears welling in her eyes as her arms wound around her middle.

“Can you describe this man? And where he was keeping you?” Angela asks carefully, making notes on her notepad as Bella nods.

“He looked like he was in his forties, his hair was greying and he had a huge burn scar on his right arm, like all up it. He was keeping us in the woods. It sounds really cliche now that I say it out loud. He’d moved us around a bit before he found this old abandoned cabin on the outskirts of the city. He managed to get power and water so he figured we could just stay out there, like some delusional family or something.” Bella says, and Angela immediately picks up on her choice of words.

“I’m sorry, you said ‘us’. Was there someone else?” Angela enquires, glancing up from her notebook.

“Yeah, there was another woman, she might’ve been in her thirties? The guy kept calling her ‘Vivian’ but I’m guessing that wasn’t her name.” Bella explains with a nod while Angela pulls her phone out of her pocket, hurriedly scrolling through it and finding a picture with you in.

“This other woman. Did she look like this?” Angela flips the phone around, showing Bella the picture, watching as her eyes widen in recognition.

“Yes! That’s her!” Bella exclaims, looking over at Angela.

“She’s alive,” Angela mutters to herself, unable to believe the news.

“Do you know her?” Bella asks, noticing Angela’s reaction and how hurriedly she was typing into her phone.

“She’s a friend of mine. She’s been missing for a while.” Angela says, tucking her phone away as she talks.

“She’s the one who helped me escape. She saw the opportunity and she encouraged me to go for it.” Bella says, watching Angela’s reaction carefully.

“That sounds like y/n. She always looked out for others.” Angela says with fondness, remembering how you had always put others above yourself.

“I want to help her,” Bella says, a strong, newfound determination in her voice.

“Can you recall where the cabin was? If you can that would help us track her down.” Angela asks, listening carefully as Bella explains all the details she can remember of her escape from that cabin. After getting as many details as Bella could remember, Angela excused herself, exiting the room and immediately calling Grey on her way out, informing him of everything and letting him know that he and the LAPD needed to act fast before you were moved again.

Back at the Mid-Wilshire police station, police officers were starting to prepare for an operation on the outskirts of Los Angeles just as Lucy and Tim entered, ushering their recent arrest to be processed. They quickly became aware of the atmosphere around them so while Lucy was processing the arrest, Tim stepped out to find Grey.

“What’s going on?” Tim asks after tracking down Grey.

“I’m getting some people together for an operation. But I need you and Officer Chen to stay on patrol.” Grey says, gathering his war bags and barely glancing Tim’s way.

“I want to help,” Tim says, confused as to why Grey isn’t letting him get involved with an operation, not when he had as much experience as he did.

“This isn’t a matter to discuss Officer Bradford. You’re one of my best patrol officers and I need you out on the streets with Officer Chen while we do this. Is that understood?” Grey asserts, facing Tim and staring him down as Tim straightens up.

“Understood, Sir,” Tim says, feeling his heart sink at not getting to be involved with an operation.

“You’ll get in on the next operation,” Grey says, clapping Tim on the shoulder quickly before making his way towards his shop, leaving Tim to head back to Lucy, finding her after she had just finished processing their arrest.

“Hey, did you find out what everyone’s doing?” Lucy asks, looking up at Tim curiously.

“There’s an operation going down. I don’t know what it’s for but Grey wants us on patrol.” Tim says with a shrug, beginning to turn on his heel and make his way towards their shop, annoyance evident in in his body language.

“Do they know this would be a great learning opportunity for me? I want to get as much experience in operations as possible. Why aren’t they letting us help?” Lucy asks, following behind Tim.

“I don’t know, Boot. But it’s not my place to challenge Sergeant Grey’s orders.” Tim says firmly, glancing over his shoulder at Lucy who nods, still obviously upset about not getting to help with an operation while she’s still in training.

“Come on, get in. We’ve got a patrol to finish.” Tim then says with a shrug, both of them reaching the shop and getting in, ready to continue their patrol.

After a couple of hours of patrolling, Tim and Lucy had stopped to grab some coffee and while they stood outside their shop, talking and sipping at their drinks, Tim’s phone rang, making his eyebrows furrow when he saw Angela’s name displayed across his screen.

“Angela.” Tim greets as the phone reaches his ear.

“Tim, you need to get your ass to the hospital right now,” Angela says, making Tim raise an eyebrow before he thinks of a reason why she’d be asking him to come to the hospital.

“Are you having the baby already?” Tim asks, a panicked expression crossing his face.

“What? No. Look, just come to Shaw Memorial as soon as you can.” Angela says, an urgency in her voice that Tim hasn’t heard in a while.

“Okay, I’ll head over now.” Tim concedes, bidding Angela goodbye before hanging up the phone and shoving it away in his pocket.

“We’re going to the hospital. And no Angela is not giving birth.” Tim says, able to predict what Lucy was about to ask from a single look.

“Then why are we going to the hospital?” Lucy then questions, both of them getting into their seats just before Tim starts the drive to the hospital.

“No idea. Maybe one of my C.I’s ended up in hospital and they wanted to talk to me.” Tim says, shrugging lightly, wondering to himself why it was Angela had summoned him to the hospital when she’s not supposed to be working. The closer they get to the hospital, the more Tim starts to suspect that it has something to do with you. Angela had assured him that the only case she was working while on maternity leave was yours. But as he parked in the car park for the hospital, he started to picture the worst possible case scenario as he bursts through the hospital, tracking down Angela within minutes, practically leaving Lucy behind.

“What’s happened?” Tim asks, studying Angela’s expression carefully as she grabs his wrist leading him to a nearby hospital room and letting him look through the window. At the sight, tears immediately began to well in his eyes, stepping forward slightly towards the door before Angela stopped him.

“The doctors are working on her now. They’ll get you when she’s stable. I just wanted to show you that we found her.” Angela explains softly, watching as Tim refuses to tear his gaze away from the window.

“She’s alive,” Tim whispers, tears in his eyes as he watches the doctors hooking you up to an IV drip and heart monitors.

“She is. We found her.” Angela says softly, carefully guiding Tim back to the waiting room and helping him ease himself into a chair just as Lucy finally found the pair.

“What the hell? Why did you leave me behind?” Lucy demands, approaching Tim who barely processes her words, his gaze locked on the floor in front of him as his knee bounces impatiently.

“Not now, Lucy,” Angela says, holding a hand out towards Lucy to silence her while her other hand rests on Tim’s shoulder, squeezing it softly.

“Wait, what’s going on?” Lucy then asks, noticing the unusual behaviour Tim was exhibiting and how Angela was protecting him fiercely.

“We’ll tell you later,” Angela says, knowing that with the state Tim was in, she shouldn’t go spilling his personal life.

After half an hour of waiting, a doctor approached Angela since they only recognised her but she made sure to bring Tim into the conversation as well as make sure the doctors knew he was your husband so that he would make any and all medical decisions that you couldn’t make.

“y/n had been drugged upon being found, I assume something that was something done so that the perpetrator could move her without the risk of her running away. She’s also showing clear signs of dehydration and malnourishment so we’ve got her on IVs to give her what her body needs. She’s still asleep but would you like to see her?” The doctor explains, glancing at the tablet in his hand before looking at Tim who nods. The doctor gestures for Tim to follow him to your room but before he leaves he turns to Angela.

“Message me if you need me,” Angela says softly, watching as he nods once more before following the doctor and being granted access to your room. As soon as he enters the room, he grabs a chair and pulls it up along your bedside, one hand taking your hand in his while his other hand runs through your hair.

“I’m here, Baby. I’m so sorry. I love you.” Tim says, repeating the three sentences like a mantra as he squeezes your hand softly. He felt more tears welling in his eyes as he took in your form. Your cheeks were hollowed and you had dark circles under your eyes. The more Tim watched you as you slept, the worse his guilt got. He couldn’t help but hate himself more and more for letting you leave the house that night. As the day progressed, Tim found himself uncharacteristically talkative with you, rambling about everything you had missed.

“I’ve got a new rookie. Her name’s Lucy Chen. You’d like her a lot actually. She reminds me of you in a way.” Tim says, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing the back of your hand as he talks. He knew you and Lucy would get on well. After all, Lucy was someone who was unafraid to speak her mind around Tim and you’d admire her fire. By the time night fell, Tim was sure he’d covered everything that had happened since you had gone missing. He felt a yawn slip past his lips which made him attempt to shake the sleepiness off. He didn’t want to fall asleep and then risk waking up to find out that this had been a dream. He couldn’t bare to wake up to find you missing again. However, as the night progressed, Tim got more and more tired and he began to struggle to keep his eyes open so he laid his head down on your bed, making sure he was facing up at you, keeping your hand in his the whole time before letting his eyes slip closed, hoping this wasn’t all a dream.

You woke up slowly in the early hours of the morning and as you slowly open your eyes, you couldn’t help but smile tearily when you recognised the sleeping face of your husband. The face you had dreamed of seeing for years. You watched Tim quietly for a moment, admiring the man you loved so much before your need to talk to him overtook you and you squeezed his hand softly, rousing him almost instantly. His eyes blinked open and you felt a tear slip down your cheek.

“Hey, Tim.” You whisper softly, your voice slightly hoarse from lack of use. Tim couldn’t even bring himself to talk, he just squeezed your hand, tears welling in his own eyes.

“You’ve grown your hair out a bit.” You observe quietly, gently extracting your hand from his to run your hand through his hair, having been used to his shorter haircut for too long.

“You like it?” Tim asks with a teary laugh.

“I love it. I did always tell you it would look nicer if you grew it out a little.” You muse softly, enjoying the feeling of running your hand through his hair with the slight added length. As another tear rolls down your cheek, Tim reaches out and wipes it away, his touch as soft and as gentle as you remembered it.

“I’m so sorry, Baby. I let you down.” Tim apologises, his hand lingering on your cheek as you lean into his touch, desperately craving the love and comfort only Tim could provide you with.

“It’s not your fault. I’m the one who left that night.” You say, slowly retracting your hand from Tim’s hair, returning it to your lap as Tim shakes his head.

“I should’ve stopped you.” Tim argues, making you shake your head in response.

“You couldn’t have known, Tim. Look, let’s not argue. We haven’t seen each other in years I don’t want to ruin this by arguing. It’s no ones fault but the ass who took me.” You say, your voice soft yet firm as Tim nods lightly in understanding.

“I missed you so much.” Tim then whispers, his face displaying every emotion he was feeling in the moment.

“I missed you too.” You reply softly. Glad you were reunited with your husband again.

After a few days stay in hospital, you had finally been cleared to go home which you were excited for. Your days in the hospital were mostly spent talking to lawyers and detectives to get all the evidence needed for the case against your kidnapper. But Tim had all but refused to leave your side through it all, and some of your friends came to visit you after news had spread that you had been found. You even got to meet Tim’s newest rookie, Lucy, who like Tim predicted, you got on brilliantly with. And while you had appreciated people wanting to visit you, and that the detectives and lawyers wanted to get that guy behind bars as soon as possible. But you just wanted to go home, to spend some time with Tim in the comfort of your own house, as well as getting to know the family member you had missed the arrival of. When Tim had told you about Kojo, he had not missed the way your eyes lit up and he knew it was going to be love at first sight for both you and Kojo. After all the paperwork had been sorted and Tim had brought you a comfy change of clothes from home, you finally headed out to Tim’s truck, letting him help you into the vehicle and settling in to the passenger seat.

The drive back to yours and Tim’s shared house was relatively silent, you listened to what was on the radio and occasionally chatted with Tim until he pulled into the driveway. You waited upon Tim’s orders for him to round the truck and open the door for you, helping you out carefully before leading you to the front door.

“Are you ready?” Tim asks softly, hand interlocked with yours as you both stand in front of the door, staring it down before you nod lightly, giving Tim the sign he needed to unlock the front door, easing it open and ushering both you and him inside, quickly coming face to face with Kojo.

“Hey, you must be Kojo. Tim’s told me all about you. I’m y/n.” You introduce yourself to the dog, watching his reaction carefully as he approaches you, sniffing at your outstretched hand for a few seconds before gently licking your hand and allowing you to pet him.

“Oh, aren’t you the sweetest boy?” You praise, petting Kojo happily while Tim jokingly rolls his eyes.

“It took less than a minute for me to be replaced by the dog.” Tim jokes, making his way into the kitchen to grab some drinks and by the time he returned, you had curled up on the sofa with Kojo and Tim couldn’t help but smile at the sight of having you home again. After placing the drinks on the coffee table, Tim sat down on your other side and wrapped his arm around your middle, pulling you into him and pressing multiple kisses to the side of your head as you smile softly, cherishing the attention and love Tim was giving you.

By the time night fell, you were ready to crash and Tim knew it. He chose to carry you to the bedroom, sitting you down on the bed and finding one of his old police academy shirts he knew you loved to wear and a pair of flannel pyjama bottoms, handing them to you before turning around to get changed himself. When you were both ready for bed, you climbed under the covers while Kojo curled up at the foot of the bed. You instantly curled into Tim’s side, burying your face in his chest.

“I’ve missed this so much.” You mumbled, smiling to yourself when Tim tightens his grip around your waist.

“Me too. I love you so much.” Tim whispers, kissing the top of your head before you tipped your head up so Tim could press the softest of kisses upon your lips.

“I love you too.” You reply softly, eyes full of love as you look up at Tim before curling back into him, quickly falling asleep in his arms the way you had been dreaming off the past few years.

In the middle of the night, Tim stirred, aware of the way the two of you had shifted throughout the night. You were now lying with your back to Tim and his arm was wrapped around your middle but he quickly withdrew it when he noticed you twitching and crying in your sleep. He instantly knew you were having a nightmare so he flicked his bedside lamp on and reached out to gently rouse you, placing his hand on your shoulder and calling your name softly until you bolted upright, eyes wide open and tears staining your cheeks.

“y/n. Baby. It’s okay. I’m here. You’re safe.” Tim says softly, his hand reaching down to hold yours, his actions only stopping when you practically curled into him instantly, changing his action from holding your hand to holding your sobbing, shaking form instead. Tim continued to reassure you and comfort you quietly, his hand rubbing up and down your back while Kojo rested his head on your leg, whining softly in his own way to comfort you. Tim then began to coach you through slowing your breathing, using techniques you had used when he suffered with nightmares and when you began to calm down, he began to wipe your tears away.

“I thought I was really back in that cabin.” You admit with a sniffle, making Tim hold you closer, taking your hand in his and placing it above his heart.

“You feel that? I’m here and so are you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you again.” Tim promises quietly as you focus on the steady thumping of his heartbeat while your other hand reached down to pet Kojo softly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” You apologise, pulling away with your eyes still shining with tears as Tim shakes his head.

“Don’t apologise. I’m going to be here for you when you need me to. I’m your husband and after what you went through I’d be a shit excuse of a husband if I did anything but look after you when you needed me. Don’t ever apologise for having a nightmare. I love you and I’m going to help you through this.” Tim says, pulling you back into his arms and feeling you settle your head perfectly above his heart so you could focus on his heartbeat once again.

“I love you too.” You mumble, soothed by Tim’s repeated action of running his hand up and down your back as well as his melodic heartbeat and soon your eyes slipped closed again. In the arms of the love of your life and feeling safe for the first time in years.

Tim watched you sleep peacefully for a few minutes, just to make sure no nightmares tried to attack you again as you slept but after not as much as a twitch, Tim switched his lamp off and cuddled you closer as he let himself drift off to sleep. You were finally back where you belonged. And Tim wasn’t going to let anyone hurt you again.

[navybrat817]

Back to the Office

Pairing: Dark!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You got back to the office to get your phone and stumble upon something you shouldn't have seen.

Word Count: Over 2k

Warnings: Dark AU, minor character death, mention of blood, threat of violence, kidnapping, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: More Beach Fun Nonsense! Hope you lovelies enjoy. @youdontknow-things requested Bucky and a visit Under the Boardwalk (dark) with prompt #28 in bold. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You quietly entered the building and sighed when you caught the time on the clock nearby. Most of the lights were off since everyone was gone for the night, but you didn't mind since you wouldn't be there for long. You just couldn't believe you made it all the way home before you realized that you forgot your phone, too preoccupied with reading a new book on the train. It was a downside of having to go into the office three days a week. Now you’d have to rush to make dinner or order out once you got back.

At least your desk was on the first floor and you could work from home tomorrow.

You passed by a few cubicles and shook your head once you made it to yours. It wasn't much, but it was still your space. “There you are,” you muttered, your phone sitting right beside your keyboard where you left it. Grabbing it, you smiled to yourself when you saw a text from your mom. She was always checking on you.

Just as you were about to respond, you noticed a dim light out of the corner of your eye. It was coming from your boss’s office. You should've known he was still there since it wasn't unusual for him to stay late. He was the kind of boss who showed up first and left last. He also had a good sense of humor to balance out his hard work ethic.

You walked down the hall before you could stop yourself and knocked twice on the cracked open door. He didn't say anything, but his rule was you could always go in if the door wasn't shut and locked. “You know, the company won't go under if you go home,” you giggled as you pushed the door open completely.

Your laughter died in your throat when you saw your boss facedown on the floor in a pool of his own blood. The sight and coppery scent that filled the room made your stomach roll and you tried to force air into your lungs as your phone fell from your hand. You felt paralyzed, unable to go to his side to check his pulse. But from how still his body was, you sensed he was dead.

What happened to him?

“You aren't supposed to be here.”

A deep and oddly pleasant voice you didn't recognize drew your attention past the body to the desk. A tall man clad in black from head to toe met your wide-eyed stare with a soft smile. With cobalt eyes, long dark hair, and broad shoulders, you would've found yourself attracted to him in any other scenario. But this stranger exuded danger.

You were in trouble.

“W-Who are you?” You asked, unable to keep your voice even. “What happened to him?” You added, not wanting to outright accuse him of anything.

He tilted his head. “I’d tell you, but…” He winked, the rest of the statement hanging in the air as the tension skyrocketed.

I’d have to kill you.

Your legs shook before you took one step back. The second step you took made him frown. The third stepped he moved toward you. You turned and ran as fast as your feet could carry you. If he caught you, would you end up in a pool of your own blood, too?

Blame it on fear or disorientation, but you took off in the wrong direction. Instead of heading toward the front of the building like you should've, you went straight toward the supply closet at the other end. Your hand shook as you locked it behind you, your legs giving out as you caught your breath.

Fear raced down your spine as you cowered on the floor, blankly staring at the door in front of you as you hugged your knees to your chest. You bit your lip and tried not to make a sound when slow footsteps approached. Maybe there was a chance that the man didn't see where you went. It was a stupidly optimistic thought.

And you couldn't believe you dropped your phone. You could've tried to call or text someone for help. Would it have done you any good though? By the time anyone got there…

“I know you're still here and I’m sorry. I was kidding with that whole ‘I’d tell you, but I’d have to kill you’ implication. Bad joke given the circumstances.” His voice rang out clearly through the door. “Bet you’ve never seen a dead body before. I know it can be quite a shock.”

The image of your boss dead in his office was one that would haunt you.

“Everyone calls me Bucky,” he said, so casually that it unnerved you. How was he so calm? “It's a nickname.”

You never heard your boss or anyone around the office mention someone named Bucky. It was a name you would've remembered since it wasn't exactly common. What did he want?

“I was sent here to kill your boss. As you can see, I succeeded,” he continued when you didn’t respond, his voice slightly louder. Closer. “I’m very good at my job.”

You whined, tears burning your eyes. Your boss was kind to everyone. He had a family. Why would anyone want to cause him harm?

“Bet you didn't know he was mixed up with some bad people. Ones who aren't so forgiving with anyone who tries to steal from them. Of course you wouldn’t know. Why would you?” He mused.

Your heart pounded when he stopped in front of the door, his feet blocking out some of the light that came through. You backed up more as if that would help you. Whatever your boss was mixed up in, it didn't justify killing him.

“Sorry you had to see the aftermath. Like I said though, you weren't supposed to be here,” he went on, knocking twice on the door and making you jump. “Can’t say I’m entirely upset that you're here. My team and I like to be thorough when we research our clients. So, naturally, we have a file on you.”

You clamped a hand over your mouth to keep from screaming or yelling at him. He didn't really have a file on you, did he? He was just toying with you. He had to be.

But when he spoke your name like honey on his tongue, you knew he was serious.

“Been working here for what? A few years now? Kind to everyone at the office. Their ‘go-to’ when they need help, but you’re underappreciated. No one even thanked you for that cake you brought in earlier this week.” Your stomach dropped when he chuckled. How did he know? “And you haven't gone on a date in about six months. Bet you're pent up. I can help with that.”

Your skin crawled, but you stayed quiet. Your life didn't concern him. Except in a strange way it did. Because your life was now in his hands.

A sigh came from the other end of the door. “I know you won't believe me, but I won't kill you. You’re innocent in this. I do have to take you with me though because I can't trust that you won't go to the cops. Can't have loose ends. You understand that, right?” Bucky said, his tone almost pleading with you to see it his way before he knocked twice again. “So open the door.”

No. You couldn't go with him. The man was a killer. “I won't go to the cops,” you promised once you lowered your hand from your mouth. You just wanted to go home. “I won't tell anyone what I saw.”

He chuckled again. “You’re so cute. And you're a good girl, aren't you?”

Heat spread up your neck. “Please, if you just-”

“You have two options. First option, you stay in there and I break down the door. If I have to do that, I'll drag you to my car, throw you in the trunk, and chain you up in the basement once we get to my home.” Fear shot through your body. “I'll feed you bread and water so that you don't starve, but it'll keep you weak enough that you won't be able to run far or fight back should you get out of your chains. Who knows how long I’ll keep you down there?”

Your mouth parted in horror and you wondered if he could hear how hard your heart pounded through the door.

“Oh. And I'll go through the contacts on your phone and start killing them off. One by one.” He paused when you choked on a sob. “I'll start with your mom and dad.”

Squeezing your eyes shut didn't stop a tear from falling. “Please, don't,” you begged. You couldn't let anything happen to them.

“Now that's the first option,” he said in a gentler tone. “The second? You open the door and come with me. I'll hold your hand while you sit beside me in the car and I'll make sure you're nice and comfortable when I take you into my home. I’ll feed and care for you, and your loved ones will be safe.”

A shuddering breath left your lungs. Going with him willingly was the lesser of two evils. “If I go with you, you really won't hurt my family or friends?”

“You have my word, doll face.”

He could snap your neck the second you opened the door. He certainly looked strong enough to end your life without breaking a sweat. Could you trust him to keep his word? Did it matter? You sealed your fate the second you came back to the office.

At least if you went with him, there was no reason for him to hurt anyone else, right?

“You said you had a team. What about them?” You asked, sniffling as another tear fell. Would they want you dead?

He cooed, like it would comfort you in a sense. “Don't worry about my team. They’ll be here soon to take care of the mess, but they won't lay a finger on you. You have my word for that, too. Just open the door.”

If you let too much time pass, he’d likely make good on his promise to break down the door and everything else after. “Okay, Bucky,” you said, as if saying his name would humanize him. You pushed yourself to your feet, wiped your eyes, and reached for the door handle. “I’m going to trust that you’ll keep your word.”

You barely had the door open before he reached in and grabbed your arm, yanking you out so you were nearly pressed up against him. Instead of pain like you expected, it was surprisingly gentle. His iron grip wasn't breakable though and there was no use in fighting. He won. Both of you knew it.

“I like how you say my name,” he smirked, holding up your phone before he pocketed it. You made a sound before he shushed you. “I won’t hurt them since you came out here willingly, but I can’t exactly give your phone back to you now, can I?”

“I guess not.” You swallowed, your throat dry. He pulled you close and you wished you could pull away. “When will you let me go?” You asked, hoping in your heart that he'd grow bored of having you around and set you free.

His brows furrowed, confused by your question. “Never,” he stated.

A single word snuffed out the hope like an extinguished flame on a candle.

“Never?” You whispered, fear filling you all over again when you looked into his eyes. You saw your future in them, something dark and cold. You longed to feel warm. “But my-”

“I have my very own doll to play with now, so why would I let you go? Oh, don't be so tense. I promised I’d take care of you.” With a loving smile, he used the other hand to caress your cheek. You would've collapsed in a heap if he wasn't holding you. “Let’s go home.”

Home to him. A prison to you. All because you just had to go back to the office.

So, that happened. Maybe we can revisit this yandere-like Bucky in the future? What do we think? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[yeonzzzn]

flawless execution: sim jaeyun

roles reversed au of chilling & killing 🔪 | spotify playlist

pairing: jake x afab!reader word count: 9.2k

synopsis: when a masked serial killer is on the loose, jake, the head of the journalist department at his college, gets put in charge of the cases along side you as his second. as jake unfolds the mystery, other truths come out.

genre: ghostface!reader, journalist!jake, smut

warnings: swearing, blood + m*rder mentions, unprotected sex, knife play, dom!reader, switch!jake, hair pulling, jake gets cut at some point, tit sucking, lemme know if I missed anything. MINORS DNI!!!

His cell phone rang once…twice…three times before he finally pulled the device from his pocket and answered the call. Before he could form a sentence, the other voice was speaking. 

“Turn on the campus news right now. More bodies were found.” 

Jake quickly turned from where he was standing and jumped over his couch, fumbling with the remote. 

“The masked killer ghost face has killed college students __ and __ and were found roughly an hour ago by the fountain on campus grounds—“ 

Jake didn’t finish listening before gathering his things and burst out his apartment door, running as quickly as possible to campus. 

A crowd was already forming around the famous fountain, caution tape, and police pushing back the students. Jake pushed his way through the crowd, holding up his campus journal ID to the policeman, “Let me through.” 

The officer side-eyed his ID and then Jake, opening his mouth to speak but Jake wasn’t having any of it, “Let. Me. Through.” 

“He’s with me,” you yelled at the officer from where you stood by the fountain, “Let him in.” 

The officer pulled up the tape with a groan, finally letting Jake through. 

He jogged over to your side, glaring back at the asshole officer, “How did you get here before me?”

You crossed your arms, looking at the fountain, “I’m just that good. You’re more worried about how I got here first when we have a job?” you giggled, giving him a wink. 

Jake chuckled at you. He loved that he had you as his partner. You were funny and a super genius at everything you do. Jake looked at the fountain as well, examining the two bodies that were propped on the fountain. They were players on the hockey team. 

Jake pulled his notepad and pen from his back pocket, taking note of who these guys were and the state of their bodies. Both men had their throats slashed, backs bent over the fountain, and heads completely submerged in the water. They each had roughly twelve stab wounds to their torso, with a few slashes to each of their arms and legs. The water of the fountain and the white marble of the fountain were stained red. He rubbed his fingers against his lips, deep in thought. Whoever this ghost face is, they didn’t go easy on these guys. 

“Do we know who found them?” Jake asked you, jotting more notes down on his notepad and glancing over at you.  

You slowly look over at him, “Crazy thing is,” you sigh, looking back to the bodies, “Yunjin and myself.” 

Jake placed his hands on your shoulders, turning you to completely face him, “That’s how you got here before me?!? YN, what happened?!” 

You pinch his bicep, giving him a smirk, “You’re still more concerned about how I got here first? This isn’t a competition, Jakey poo.” 

Jake rolled his eyes at the nickname you’ve given him, dropping his arms to his sides, “I kind of need to know what my partner knows, don’t I?” 

You smile at him, then turn your body back to the dead bodies. Jake could have sworn he saw a sparkle light up your eyes as you studied them. You always loved being on the scene of the crimes, Jake did too. Something about the thrill of finding evidence and solving the cases is so exhilarating. But you always seemed to enjoy it more than Jake did. It’s one factor that will help make you one damn good detective someday. You already have offers from multiple different offices looking to scout you. 

“Yunjin and I were just taking a walk. Talking about the drama going on with the other people in her major and that’s when we found the bodies.” 

Jake studied your face, watching how the early summer wind blew your hair into your eyes and how you fought to keep the strands pulled behind your ears, it was cute. “Where is Yunjin now?” Jake asked, scanning the crowd of students. 

You pointed off to your left, “She’s with an officer right now, sitting on the park bench with one of the campus professors. Think he’s a stem professor.” Jake spotted your best friend, her red hair covered her face as she rocked back and forth on the bench, arms holding herself and the professor trying to comfort her. He walked around you, preparing himself to ask Yunjin the questions he’ll need to, only to be stopped by you, “Don’t question her right now,” you said, pulling him towards you, resting your breasts against his bicep, pleading with him, “she’s not taking all this very well,” Jake opened his mouth to protest, to tell you he had a job to do. Still, you stopped him again, “Please, Jakey! She’s my best friend, I’ll handle it and get you up to date, I promise.” 

Jake knew he had no control over this matter, she was your best friend and it honestly might be easier for her to speak with you. So Jake nodded, letting you take that lead, and smiled at you. But there still was a job to do, so Jake pulled your arms off his gently, trying his best to not press his arm any closer to your breasts than it already was from your grip, “Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” 

You nodded, pulling out your own notebook from your bag. Jake asked you a few questions first about arriving on the scene and writing everything down. After that he pulled his camera from his bag, taking pictures around the fountain, the bodies, and the surrounding area. Not wanting to leave any details out. 

You watched him as he did his thing, following behind him taking your own notes and photographs, studying the area just as much as he was. Jake was in his element, that’s for sure. He wasn’t crowned head of the journalism department for no reason. Eventually Jake knelt to the ground, slinging his camera over his shoulder and jotting more notes down. You removed your gaze from him to look at your best friend, seeing her already staring back at you. 

You could see her bottom lip was trembling, and fear and concern spread throughout her whole face as she wrapped her arms tighter around herself, scooting closer to the officer. The small smile you had faded as you watched your friend, wanting to—

“YN,” Jake called you over, turning your attention back to him. He pulled two latex gloves from his bag and pulled them onto his hands, “I found something.” 

You knelt down beside him, watching as he lifted the camera and shot a couple of photos, “What did you find?” 

Jake reached over, picking up a broken earring from underneath one of the guy’s shoes, gently holding it between his gloved fingers and holding it up to the sky, “How did something like this get here?” 

Jake narrowed his eyes at her earring, it looked familiar. But he couldn’t pinpoint how or why. The earring wasn’t too feminine or too masculine, making it a perfect fit for any gender and nowhere even helping narrow down who this ghost face even was. All Jake knew was the killer had to have their ears pierced. 

“Maybe they had it on their person already?” you suggested, leaning closer to Jake to get a better view of the earring, “Or maybe the killer somehow dropped it?” 

“I’m thinking of the ladder,” Jake whispered, turning the earring between his index and thumb, “But that just means these boys fought whoever our ghost face is.” 

“That’s definitely a great possibility,” you said with a sigh, glancing over to Jake’s face, seeing how focused he was on this earring. 

Jake gave the earring to a forensics investigator to take back to their lab. The police eventually came over and shooed you and Jake off the scene to let the professionals take over, forcing the two of you to head to the journalism office on campus to finish the rest of your own investigations. Jake and you printed off the photos the both of you took and took notes on what the other wrote down in their own notebooks, making copies for each other to have. 

Jake was racking his brain on this case and the previous ones that ghost face had committed. He glanced up at the clock, seeing how late it was, and dismissing the meeting, the both of you going your separate ways. 

Jake stood at the edge of campus and watched as you made your way to your own apartment complex on the other side of the school, wanting to make sure you at least got halfway through campus safely before making his own way to his apartment. 

You weren’t completely new to the journalism scene but were still new as an official journalist in a way. Before you joined the club, it was just Jake and Danielle, a freshman who has a keen eye for writing and helped Jake out with every paper that was written and sent off to the news club. But with the mysterious ghost face killings, he needed an extra set of hands. Danielle wrote about everything with the school, not just the crimes that happened here. And with her still being a freshman, Jake needed that help. He tried to take it up alone, but as the body count started rising, the more it got harder to handle. That’s when you came in, answering Jake's application he posted around the campus and on the campus website. 

Jake has seen you around campus many times before you joined his team but knew next to nothing about you, so of course he did his research before just letting you join the team, can’t have a killer in the ranks huh? But everything about you came back clean. No criminal record or record of anything bad at all. You were a straight-A student back in school, were born and raised in the next town over, and was the sweetheart of that town. You graduated top of your class and was accepted into this college two years before your graduation. You volunteered and donated to charity and worked as an intern at the local police station every weekend to help land you a job there after graduating college. Jake was amazed at how smart you were and dedicated to the job of being a detective someday. And you’d make a killer one someday. 

You were perfect for the team, Jake would be stupid to not accept you. You fit into the team perfectly and became his second and partner super quickly. He taught you everything he knew, and you succeeded way past his expectations. You were honestly a blessing and Jake couldn’t be happier to have found you for the team. When you first joined, the ghost face killings were only at six…but with the ones that were found today, the count went up to seventeen. 

—

Jake found himself waving in and out of the club office in between classes the following week, adding photos and new news articles about the ghost face cases to the corkboard he kept in the office. Wrapping red string around the thumbtacks connecting to each murder and each suspect that was under Jake’s radar. 

He stared at the corkboard for what felt like hours, soon enough classes were done for the day and Danielle walked into the office, “I swear you were staring at that board when I walked past an hour ago.” 

So I have been looking at this thing for too long

Jake blinked a few times at Dani then released a sigh, “Been trying to wrap my brain around this for way too long.”

Danielle giggles, “Then why don’t you help me write this article about the victims from the hockey team.” 

Jake smiled, agreeing to help her. He sat down beside her at the table, advising as she typed out the article and pulled up the facts about the case from his notes and what the official news had stated. 

The longer Jake helped Dani write the paper, the more he came to the realization the two guys the ghost face killed were…kind of assholes. They apparently already were under investigation by the campus police for harassment of other females and even tipped one of the hockey refs to let any of their team's penalties go unnoticed. They weren’t great guys, but they didn’t deserve to die, not the way they were killed. 

As Danielle emailed the article to the news club and packed up her things, you made your appearance in the club, “Sorry I am late,” you said rushing in and setting your backpack to the floor, “My exam ran later than I thought it would, ran as fast as I could across campus to get here.” Jake smiled at you as he watched you pull your long hair back into a ponytail, taking notice of how flushed your face was from your run here. 

“It’s okay,” Jake finally said, glancing down at his notes, “Danielle and I wrote the article and I’ve been staring at that corkboard all day, we can push the meeting to tomorrow.” 

You sat down beside him, staring at Danielle as she stood up, “You heading out?” 

Danielle nodded, “Tryouts for the volleyball team for next semester are coming up, fixing to head off to one of the practices the coach is hosting for them.” 

You gave her a thumbs up, “You got this! You’ll be the best on the team Dani!” the younger blushed and thanked you, giving her own thumbs up as she rushed out of the office, closing the door behind her. 

Jake's eyes trailed from the door to you, finding how cute your flushed face looked. 

“How did writing the article go?” you asked, taking notice of how hard Jake was staring, forcing the ends of your lips to curl up. You pulled your laptop from your backpack, still waiting for his answer. 

But Jake was in a daze. He always found you super cute. And it’s not that often he gets to spend alone time with you like this. Most of the time the both of you are working on a project or the ghost face murders so there wasn’t time to just sit and hang out like there was right now. 

Jake bit the inside of his cheek, eyes trailing down from your eyes to your lips, to your jawline, and then…“What happened to your ear?” 

Your left ear lobe looked as if it were cut in half, clear stitches pulled the skin tight together and were a slight pink color, showing it was recent but healing properly. Normally you have your hair down or pulled half up and he wasn’t normally this close to you on your left side, so Jake never was able to notice this injury. 

You covered your ear, eyes locking with Jake’s, “Uhh, it happened not too long ago,” you said, giving him a small smile, “Yunjin and I were messing around, my earring got caught in her shirt and pulled a bit too hard.” 

Jake raised his brows and stuck his bottom lip out, “That sounds like it was painful.” 

You giggled at his concerned cute look, turning back to face your laptop, “It wasn’t fun, that’s for certain.” 

Speaking of Yunjin, “Hey,” Jake cleared his throat, “I still need to speak with Yunjin about what hap—“

You cut him off, “Please give her more time, Jake,” you quickly said, fumbling with some files on your laptop, “She’s still very shaken up. Hasn’t spoken much at the apartment after finding the bodies. I’ll get the police reports from her account soon and it’ll help us out a lot, I’m sure of it.” 

Another week has passed since the fountain murders and Jake’s brain was on overdrive. He moved the corkboard from the office to the kitchen in his apartment, hoping the fluorescent bulbs of his kitchen would illuminate the board in better ways than the ones at the office. 

Jake leaned against the back of his couch, cupping his jaw in his hand while the other hand gripped his elbow, his eyes trailing every inch of the board from the very first ghost face murder to the recent one. Every news article and photograph and police report possible from all cases was plastered on the board, the red string tying everything together but also totally not. 

Nothing made sense to him. Nothing connected together to help him have an eureka moment. Whoever this ghost face was, they were good at what they do. Covering their tracks in every possible way and not even leaving a single piece of DNA at the crime scenes, that was until the earring. 

Jake ran his hands through his dark hair and tangled his fingers at the back strand of his hair by his neck, letting out a groan. He needed that final police report that you have yet to give to him. Needed to get Yunjin’s account of what happened that day. These were important pieces to the puzzle that were missing and he needed them now. Jake glanced up at the clock above his kitchen sink, it was now one thirty in the morning. But Jake’s thoughts on needing those items didn’t care what time it was and didn’t stop him as he pulled his shoes on and bounced out the door. 

He now stood outside your apartment door, knocking loudly and not giving a damn who heard it. There was no answer. Jake knocked again. Still silent. He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed your number. The line rang twice. 

Shuffling could be heard from the other side of the door, the knob turning and the door opening to reveal you in your pajamas and half awake with messy hair. You groaned, “Jake, don’t you know what time it is?” you yawned, stretching your arms out, “Why are you even here?” 

“Can I have the police report?” 

You blinked at him, “Huh?” 

Jake leaned back against the railing, crossing his arms, “The police report, YN. I need it. Can I have it?” 

You let out another yawn, “It’s at the school. In the office.” 

Of course, it was, why wouldn’t it be? The campus was closed and Jake could risk getting caught sneaking into the campus this late at night for a damned piece of paper. Jake sighs, “Thanks anyway” he lifts himself off the rail, turning to leave but then stops, “Can I speak to Yunjin?” 

You scoff and roll your eyes, leaning against the doorframe and crossing your arms, “Jake, it’s almost two in the morning, why are you even out and about? What if ghost face gets you?” 

Then they get me I guess. I’ll put up a fight. 

Jake knew it was a risk coming over here. Mostly because the killer had to be a student. They could be lurking anywhere on campus ground or the apartments/houses surrounding it. He knew it was dangerous. 

“YN,” he mumbled your name, “I can’t sit back and do nothing. I need to catch this murder.”!

You frowned at him, your eyes softening for him, “Jakey, you know you’re allowed to live a normal college life right? To be a normal student?” Jake just shrugs. He knew he could have a normal everyday life if he wished, but he couldn’t rest until he knew this town was safe from ghost face. You roll your eyes at him, “Jake, go home and go to sleep, I can see the bags under your eyes. Let the professionals take care of this, ya? We can only do so much as student detectives and journalists.” 

Jake tilted his head and raised a brow, never once had he ever heard you speak that way, “Let me speak to Yunjin.” 

You stood your ground, “No! Go home Sim Jaeyun, before you get yourself killed.”

Jake scoffs, “See you tomorrow then.” 

You repeated the words before slamming the door in his face. Jake quickly walked down the stairs, his anger fuming. He didn’t understand why you were so against him speaking with Yunjin. He thought maybe you were being protective over your best friend and for her peace of mind, but Yunjin didn’t look well after discovering the bodies and was completely shaken up to the point where she didn’t show up to campus for a handful of days. Knowing this information and you acting weird over it only made him want to speak to Yunjin even more. Jake’s interest peaked when he noticed Yunjin’s vehicle wasn’t in its normal parking spot. 

Meaning she wasn’t home. 

Jake has respected your wishes through this entire case on speaking with Yunjin, but this matter was getting series and he was growing desperate for answers. Talking to Yunjin just might be the big break he needed. The side of Jake’s lips curled in a smile as he quickly jogged to the entrance of your apartment complex and took one final look back at your door to make sure you were inside. Once he confirmed you weren’t in sight, he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed a number. 

“He-hello?” 

“Yunjin, it’s Jake. Where are you right now?” 

— 

Jake found Yunjin sitting on one of the park benches by the fountain. She stared with all her focus at the fountain, lips pulled into a thin line and hands clasped together in her lap. Jake bit at the inside of his cheek, feeling bad for her and the thoughts that could be running through her mind at this moment, or well, ever since the murders.

“You know,” Jake teased as he walked closer to her, trying to ease the tension, “There are other ways to get distractions from what happened.” 

Yunjin just glared at him through her dark red bangs, “I’m not in the mood to joke around, Sim.” 

Jake sighed, now biting at the skin on his lips as he sat down beside her, keeping his eyes locked on the fountain. It was clean now, obviously, but Jake could see the two bodies slumped over the marbled stone and blood pooling out onto it and in the water. If Jake didn’t take on crime scenes for a living—or well future living—he too probably would be losing his brains. 

“How are you holding up?” Jake asked after some time, already knowing the answer. 

Yunjin scoffs, wrapping her arms around herself, “Holding up as in two weeks ago I found two dead bodies bent over that fountain, or holding up as in I’ve been questioned left and right by literally everyone, or my best friend/roommate smothering me to stay home and just take time?” 

Jake truly felt terrible for Yunjin, mostly for what he was about to ask her. Jake could see that she wanted to forget about it, to push it to the back of her mind and act like it never happened. Who could blame her? It takes special people to look at a dead body and be completely unfazed by it. Jake just happened to be one of those special people. 

“I am so sorry for having to ask you to go through this again…” Jake said barely above a whisper, keeping his body as still as possible. 

Yunjin sighs, “If I am being honest, I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while about all this.” 

Jake quickly turns his body to face her, being a little too excited to finally get Yunjin’s account, “Yeah?” 

She nodded, turning to face him, pulling her legs to her chest, “YN was against it, talking to you,” she swallowed, staring off at something past Jake, “Something was off about her that day…I had a bad feeling the entire day.” 

“What do you mean?” Jake placed a hand on her elbow, “You’re safe, you can tell me anything. Start from the beginning?” 

Yunjin stared into his eyes and nodded, reverting her eyes back off into the distance, “She told me she was meeting up with some people from her class to work on a project,” she took a deep breath, “At first I thought nothing of it, she’s met up with classmates before. So you could probably understand my surprise when said classmates called me to ask where she was because they tried calling her wanting to ask about meeting up. Which was odd, so I told them that she said she was already heading to meet them, and they said they had zero clue what I was talking about.” 

Jake sat back on the bench, staring off into the distance now, the cogwheels of his brain slowly starting to turn, waiting for Yunjin to continue speaking. 

“I got terrified. I rushed out of the apartment and searched everywhere for her. Scared and thinking I was going to find my best friend murdered off somewhere, ya know?” Jake understood completely. With the ghost face on the run, everyone was watching their backs and keeping their loved ones close and being so afraid. It was a question of who would be next? Who is next? “But I found her lingering around the edge of campus digging through her duffle bag. My heart nearly stopped when I saw she was alive,” she took another deep breath, “I confronted her, and she played it off that she meant people from her volunteer job on the other side of campus.” 

Jake studied her face, trying to read it, seeing how pale she was getting now, “I believed her at first, thinking maybe I just misheard her that morning and we started walking back to the apartment. But she wasn’t acting normal, acting like herself. Kept touching her ears and digging through her duffle bag and saying she needed to go find something and just ran off. So I decided to follow her the best I could in the direction she ran off to. I couldn’t just let her go off on her own, not when there’s a crazy psycho ghost face killer on campus. I saw her go through the gates to the park, but once I reached there…I couldn’t find her and just kept walking until…the bodies…” Her eyes widened and tilted her head down to the bench, hands clenching her shins. 

Jake cupped her face with his hands, pulling her to look back up at him, doing his best to comfort her, “Hey, it’s all okay.” 

She nodded, pulling her face out of his hands and staring at the fountain, “I smelt the blood first and noticed their bodies second. And…I heard footsteps behind me and I just knew…I knew I would be next. Before I could turn around and face the killer, the stem professor was walking by, noticing the bodies and dropping everything he had in his hands to the grass and was screaming, locking eyes with me, and pointing saying that we did it. I whipped around to see YN standing behind me, her eyes were wide and her skin was pale and sweaty, staring back and forth between me, the professor, and the bodies. And she’s never been surprised to see bodies. She’s been working with you for over a year now, so when I saw how surprised she was…the look on her face…” 

Jake opened his mouth to speak, but Yunjin kept going, “The funniest thing is her duffle bag was missing,” she scoffed and shook her head, “How does a duffle bag just disappear.” It was a good question. A damned good question, “She hasn’t been the same since then.”!

Jake decided to try and lighten the mood, “Maybe you short-circuited her brain when the two of you were wrestling around not too long ago.” Yunjin gave him a confused look, “You know? She said the two of you were messing around and her earring got caught in her shirt and pulled it straight down her ear. She got stitches for it?” Jake pointed to his left ear lobe, tracing it down the middle where it was cut clean in half, “Right here.” 

Yunjin raised a brow, “I don’t know what you are talking about, Jake. We don’t wrestle each other or she’s never close enough to me where her jewelry would snag on my clothing. We barely hug each other too.” The smile Jake had faded, confusion pulled on his face. Before Jake could respond, Yunjin’s phone started vibrating in her pocket, She pulled it out and saw your caller ID on the screen, “Guess she figured out I’m not at the apartment.” She locked the phone, ignoring the call, “I don’t tell her when I leave the apartment. So I guess I’ll need to prepare myself for a lecture when I get back.” She stood up, stretching her arms out above her head, “Thank you for listening to me. I feel a lot better, honestly. I don’t want to suspect my best friend, and it more than likely isn’t even her. She’s just being weird, I guess.” 

Jake stayed on the bench and watched as Yunjin disappeared into the night before standing up and finally making his way back to his apartment and crawling into his bed. Jake replayed Yunjin’s story over and over and over, trying to piece together every bit of information she gave him tonight. It still didn’t make any sense. None of it did. Nevertheless, it didn’t stop Jake from pulling his phone off the charger and sending you a quick text to meet him at his apartment as soon as possible tomorrow. To his surprise, you responded back rather quickly saying you had some volunteer work that morning but will be there right after. 

—

“You know, you should really keep your front door locked Jakey poo, there’s a killer out there.” You teased him, making yourself at home and dropping your duffle bag into the chair at his kitchen table. Your eyes looked at him, then to the corkboard, “Make any kind of progress yet?” 

Jake took a quick glance at your duffle bag and then at you, then back to the board, “I haven’t. And I left my door unlocked on purpose since you were coming over. You always let yourself in anyways.” 

You smiled at him, walking to stand at his right, crossing your arms behind your back and staring directly at the board, eyes trailing the red string to each case. Jake let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. You glanced up at him, “Don’t worry, we’ll catch them. It’s no doubt, Jakey poo.” 

Jake looked down at you, his heart skipping a beat at the nickname you’ve given him, clenching his hands against his biceps. You looked back at the corkboard, giving Jake the perfect access to look at your left ear lobe. The ditches were gone, but the scar was still very much present. Jake bit at the skin on his cheek, processing his thoughts. 

You looked back up at him, noticing his stare, and gave him another smile, “Mind if I freshen up in your bathroom? I got kinda sweaty at my volunteer job today, I probably don’t smell like roses and sunshine.” 

Jake scrunched his nose in a joking matter, “Please do, you smell stinky.” 

You roll your eyes and pinch his arm, moving quickly away from his side before he can pinch you back, “I’m going to steal your deodorant and cologne, by the way.” 

Jake waited until you disappeared down the hallway and heard the bathroom door shut before slowly walking over to your duffle bag. He didn’t want to suspect you any more than Yunjin did. But Yunjin’s story from last night wasn’t adding up. Your actions weren't adding up. The story you told him wasn’t adding up. Nothing added up. The puzzle pieces weren’t fitting no matter how hard Jake tried to fit them in place. 

Jake took a quick glance down the hallway then back at your duffle, his hands moving on their own as he reached for the zipper and slowly opened the bag. Jake’s eyes widened as he stared inside the bag, biting at his lip to keep any deep breaths from escaping and alerting you. He forced himself to take a couple of calm breaths before looking deeper into the bag. 

The police report he had asked you multiple times for along with the earring from the crime scene in a ziplock bag was found. That wasn’t all. A matching earring was found in the bag and to Jake’s dismay, the ghost face mask and black suit sat inside. Jake picked up the ziplock and matching earring, staring at them and finally realizing where he’d seen them before: in your ears. Jake dropped the ziplock and earring back in and with shaky hands he picked up the ghost face mask. Why did you have these items? It was a stupid question to even ask himself. Jake knew exactly why you had these items. He knew and still tried to come up with any excuse as to why. But after seeing the contents of your bag, all the puzzle pieces fit all too perfectly. 

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you that it’s rude to go through people’s things, Jakey?” Before he could react, a knife was pressed to his neck, and your arm wrapped around his waist, “Didn’t think you were the snooping type. I expected more from you.” 

You stood on your tiptoes to reach his ear, your breath sending chills down his spine. Any doubts Jake had about you were now long gone and out the window. You are ghost face. You’re the killer. 

“Keeping secrets is also very rude,” Jake retorts, dropping the mask back in the bag, “We’re partners, there should be no secrets with us,” Jake swallowed, “But I figure you already knew that I knew. Because why else would you leave your bag for me to snoop in.” 

You giggle, wrapping your arm even tighter against his waist and pressing the knife more into his skin, “Hmm, can’t get nothing past you, can I Jakey?” 

You traced your nose against his cheek, forcing him to tilt his head to the side at your touch, “Why?” he asked. 

You continued to nuzzle your nose against his cheek, “Hmm why did I do it?” you giggle, “You’ll need to be a bit more specific.” 

Jake swallowed, “Everything.” 

You giggle again, “Because it’s fun.” It was a simple yet spine-chilling answer, “You think I played this fucking good girl act because I actually wanted to? No, no. I had to play this part, all to keep my secret well, a secret. This is all just fun and games to me, Jake.” 

“And that’s why you joined our team,” he growled, “To make it harder for us to figure you out.” 

You shrug, “I thought it would spice things up a bit, truly. Yeah working on the inside made it so much easier for me to keep my secret and tamper with evidence. It covered my tracks very well,” you gritted your teeth, “Until you started picking up on. Every. Fucking. Thing!” you hissed against his ear, almost losing your balance on your tiptoes, “You made it so much harder to keep my tracks covered. Picking apart every single fucking thing with each murder case. I was lucky you didn’t suspect me. That was until you started poking your perfect nose into my fucking business. Jake, don't think I didn’t know that you tore apart the damn office looking for the police report before showing up at my doorstep? Or that you talked to Yunjin after I strictly told you to not to?” 

Jake chuckled, “You have the office and our phones bugged.” Knowing that information should surprise him, but at this point nothing does. 

You smirked and pressed your cheek against his, “Smart boy! Think I wouldn’t bug your phone? Or my best friends?” 

Jake went still, “You were going to kill her, weren’t you YN?” 

You giggled, “Yes I was,” his body went cold, “It would have been a pity, truly, to kill off my best friend all because she also stuck her nose where it didn’t belong.”

Jake looked back into the bag at the ziplock containing the broken earring, “You fucked up and went back to your earring.” 

You pressed the knife tighter against his throat, “Shut the fuck up!” you growled, “That asshole fought me instead of taking what he deserved! Didn’t even realize my earring was ripped out of my fucking ear until I fled the scene after murdering them both and felt the blood dripping down my neck. I had to clean myself up so fast and knew I had to find where it broke off. Having to trace my steps throughout the whole park and go back to the crime scene to see her standing there. Had to ditch my bag behind a tree and slide my knife into my jeans, preparing to murder my best friend.” 

Jake scoffed, “All to keep your fucking secret.” 

“Watch it, Jakey,” you hissed, “You have a knife to your throat, remember?” 

Jake clenched his jaw, “He fought you right? Probably accidentally knocked off your mask and saw your face. You acted too hastily and sliced his throat, but not quick enough before he was yanking at your earring.” 

You nodded, a wide smile on your face, “Nothing gets past you, Jakey. You’d really make a good detective someday.” 

Jake needed to turn you in. He needed to get out of here safely and turn you in before you could commit any more crimes and hurt any more people. Seventeen. You’ve murdered seventeen people and probably more than that before you took on the ghost face persona. 

You pressed your breasts against his back, “You know,” you whisper, “I’ve dreamt about doing this with you, my knife being pressed to your throat,” you completely pressed the front of your body against his backside, “It’s really fucking hot.” 

It was now or never. Jake was bigger than you, he could easily take you on maybe. You did take on TWO hockey players alone. But Jake felt like he still stood a chance. Mostly if he catches you off guard. 

Jake leaned into you, feeling you struggle to keep upright on your tiptoes, and grabbed both your wrists, quickly twisting your wrist with the knife, “FUCK!” you shout, dropping the knife to the floor. Jake quickly kicked it from in front of him and twisted your arms and body around, making a quick move to press you face-first against the wall. 

You wiggled in his strong grip, clenching your jaw tightly as you attempted to break free, “Let me go!” he caught you off guard and now you were paying that price. 

“Stop fighting me!” he snapped, pushing you further against the wall and keeping his chest pressed to your back, “Turn yourself in!”

You chuckled, taking a couple of deep breaths in. Acting fast and wrapping your left leg around his and pulling at his knee, forcing it to bend. You used all your strength and pushed back at him, sending him to his ass on the floor and getting out of his grip. 

You climbed in his lap and pressed him to the floor, using one hand to pin his arms above his head and reaching for the knife with the other and placing it back to his neck. Jake was so in shock by your strength and quick thinking that it took him by surprise. Guess you both know how to outsmart the other. 

All Jake could do was breathe deeply and stare up at your beautiful face. Your beautifully killer face. 

You licked your tongue, tilting your head to the side, “You look so handsome, all underneath me like this.” You relaxed your legs and straddled him, feeling your arousal pool in your panties. It turned you on so bad seeing him under you like this with your weapon so close to his throat. You’ve only been able to dream of this. Dreamed what he’d look like under you and how he’d sound. This definitely exceeded your expectations. What made it even better? Feeling how hard he was getting against you and the look he was giving you? So full of anger? Your panties were soaked. 

Jake could feel your arousal seeping into his pants, trying hard to not be affected by it but his cock betrayed him. Jake also has dreamt what it would look and feel like to be underneath you. To feel your body moving against his. He just didn’t think it would be under these circumstances. So he chose to be angry, “Do your panties always get so wet when you’re killing someone?” Jake spat, the fire in his eyes burning. 

You tilt your head to the other side, “You aren’t afraid of me?” 

Jake lifted his head, staring down at you, “Why the fuck would I be afraid of someone who gets wet by killing people?” 

You laugh, rolling your hips against his clothed hard cock. Loving the way he struggled to keep quiet and calm, “Babe, you’re the only one I’ve ever got wet for. The others were just killings to kill. But you, Jake? You just do something to me.” 

From the very first day of seeing Jake on campus, you wanted nothing more than to have his buried balls deep in your cunt. Wanted to ride him so hard as you made cuts to his skin and watch as he moaned and bled out. Wanted to feel him cum so deep and make you his. 

You had more than just one reason to join the team than to hide your secret. You wanted to get closer to him. Get to know him and fuck him so good and kill him right after. You weren’t expecting your plan to be pushed up so soon. You wanted Jake afraid of you as you made the killing blow. You weren’t expecting him to look at you with such anger, so unafraid. 

You leaned down, being nearly inches away from his beautiful face, pressing the knife harder against his neck, “You get me so wet,” you rocked your heat against him. Jake’s composure failed him, his mouth falling slack and a small moan left his lips. The effect you had on him was obvious, you knew it too. 

Jake couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t crushing on you. He’s had heart eyes for you since the first day you walked into the office. How couldn’t he? You are perfect. Still was even with you sitting on top of him with your knife to his throat. 

Jake relaxed his body, “If you’re going to kill me, then do it and get it over with.” 

You smiled, “Want me to?” You released his hands and as if on instinct, he moved them to your thighs. You slide the knife from his neck and to his shirt, looping your fingers with the collar and pressing the knife into the fabric, cutting a line and using your hands to rip the shirt in two, revealing his toned chest and abs. You bit the inside of your cheek. 

Jake smirked, “Like what you see?” 

His words drew you back in. Tracing the tip of the knife down his and abs, tracing out their outline, “Where should I start then?” 

Any ounce of willpower Jake had was gone. He wanted you. Now. He squeezed your thighs and lifted his head up, closing in those few inches and pressing his lips to yours, taking in the sweet taste of your vanilla chapstick and the softness of your lips. You rock against him again, making him moan into your mouth, “Start by taking your clothes off and rid me of the rest of mine,” he whispered. 

You giggle against his lips and pull away, setting the knife down, “Yeah?” Jake nodded, sliding his hands from your thighs to the edge of your shirt, sneaking his fingers underneath and moving up, tracing the tips of his fingers against your skin all the way up until your shirt was off and thrown off somewhere in the apartment. 

Jake lifted his body up, pressing his chest to yours and flattening his palms to your back as he pulled you in for another kiss, shoving his tongue down your throat and unclasping your bra, and tossing it to the side. You placed your hands on his chest and shoved him down, pinning him back against the floor, “Don’t be so impatient, Jakey,” you cooed, “Should have known you’d be into serial killers.” 

Jake tugged at your shorts and kept eye contact with you as you unbuttoned his pants, lifting yourself up enough to roll his pants and boxers off his hips, Jake kicking out of them, leaving him completely bare to you. He kept tugging at your shorts, “Honey, please,” he begged. 

“I know,” you hummed, loving how submissive he was underneath you. You lifted yourself up, finally letting him pull your shorts and panties off your body. Jake was in heaven, roaming his hands over every inch of your naked body, bucking up his hips against your heat wanting to feel some type of friction, “Wanna be inside me that bad?” 

Jake nodded, biting at his lower lip, “Baby, please.” 

“Can’t keep the puppy waiting, now can we?” Jake moaned out at the new nickname. His hands flew to your breasts and squeezed the plush between his fingers. Fuck, you loved how he looks right now. Deciding you kept him waiting long enough, you took his length, pumping him a few times, and lined the tip to your entrance, “You ready, pup?” he nodded, biting his lower lip. He needed to be inside you. 

You slide yourself down him, gasping out in pleasure at the stretch his cock gave you, his tip kissing your cervix. Jake moaned out at the feeling of you wrapped around him, his hands moving down to your waist, squeezing tightly, “fuck honey,” Jake hissed, his heart rate speeding up faster once you take the knife back in your hands, “you feel so fucking good and you’re just sitting there.”

You slowly rocked your hips against him, tracing the knife against his bicep. Oh, how badly did you want to cut him open and see his blood drip down his body. Jake’s moans filled his apartment, hands pushing your hips down harder against him as you rode him, slowly picking up your pace. Hearing him beg for your sex puts you on such an ego trip. He was putty in your hands. You wanted nothing more than to make a complete mess out of him as he cums deep inside you. 

You started bouncing on his cock and making Jake tilt his head back against the floor and arch his back up, hands sure enough leaving bruises against your waist from his grip. He was a moaning mess. And you fucking loved it. 

You placed one hand against his chest, pushing his back flat to the floor and using it as leverage to fuck him faster. You used this opportunity to dig the knife into the skin of his bicep, slowly making a cut. 

Jake hissed through his teeth, feeling the small amount of blood drip down his arm. He pushed himself up in a sitting position, forcing your legs to wrap around his waist and hands now pressed to your back, “Keep moving.” he moaned against your neck and you obeyed the pup. 

Jake was losing his mind feeling you riding him, brain going fuzzy at the mixture of your pussy and the blood dripping down his arm. But he loved it. Was so addicted to it. 

“Cut me again,” he begged, biting your neck and sucking hard. 

You yelped at how hard he bit, cutting another line underneath the first wound but a bit deeper. 

He hissed against your skin, releasing his mouth and licking at the bruise, kissing down your chest and popping one of your nipples into his mouth, licking, biting, and sucking at the sensitive bud. Twirling his tongue around it and loving the moans that escaped your lips with each stroke of the muscle against your nipple. You threw your head back, hands gripping tightly against his shoulders as you kept up the pace of fucking yourself against his cock. 

“Deeper,” he groans against your breasts, “Cut me deeper,” 

You chuckled, “Your fucking crazy.” 

Jake released your tit and attached your lips to his, hands roaming to your ass, “Says the serial killer.” 

You pressed the tip of your knife to the back of his shoulder, “Why are you afraid of me, hmm?” you pressed the knife in and he hissed, dropping his face in your neck, “I could kill you right now.” 

Jake pushed you harder against him, his cock rubbing harder against your cervix, “I have my own secrets.” 

You moved the knife up, cutting a deep perfect line across his shoulder, the smell of his blood filling your senses, “Tell me your secrets, puppy.” 

Jake chuckled, placing open mouth kisses on your neck, his head spinning from the blood loss, “You’re my stacker, don’t you already know them all?” 

You hummed, watching the red liquid fall down his back and pool on his hardwood floor, “I only know what you’ve texted out or physically spoken,” you licked the shell of his ear and whispered, “Tell me anyway.” 

Jake felt a surge of power, pushing you off him and flipping you over, sending the knife dropping to the floor and pressing your face against the floor and ass up in the air. He didn’t hesitate to slide his cock back deep into your pussy, his hips making contact with your ass, “Why should I tell you?” He smirked. 

You shook at his sudden dominance over you, a smirk filling to your face as well, “I’m curious,” you cooed, rocking your hips back and forth against him, “Fuck me, Jake.” 

He kept a firm grip against your neck and hip, pulling himself out to the tip and quickly shoving himself back in, fucking you so hard and fast. Jake flung his head back, mouth slack and moaning out in pure pleasure at the feeling of your cunt sucking him so well. Your moans also filled his apartment, only making Jake pump into you faster. 

“I’m fucking in love with you,” Jake felt insane saying it out loud. Felt crazy that he even admitted it. Felt even crazier to admit it to the person he was fucking ruining. To a fucking murderer, “I’m so obsessed with you, honey.” 

You bit down on your lip, fingers clawing at the floor as the pleasure he was making you feel. And now knowing he was obsessed with you made this all the more enjoyable, mostly since you were just as obsessed with him as he was with you. You were fucking crazy, Jake knew that. But everything about you drew him in and made him want you even more. 

“Say you love me,” Jake demanded, “Tell me you’re fucking obsessed with me too.” 

You were in love with him too. It was crazy, but who cared? Not when he was fucking you into oblivion and had zero fucks that you murdered seventeen people and could very well murder him at any moment. 

The knot of your stomach was threatening to snap, “Jake,” you moaned his name, your hot breath fogging the wooden floor, “Pup, I’m going to cum.” 

Jake took a fist full of your hair and yanked you up, your back now pressing against his chest, “Admit your feelings and obsession with me and I’ll let you cum, honey.” He kept pounding into you relentlessly, showing no signs of slowing down until you clenched around him and he came to a full stop, “What did I fucking say?” 

You swallowed, leaning your head against his shoulder, “I’m in love with you,” you gasped out for air, “I’m so obsessed with you and have been ever first I laid my eyes on you.” 

Jake smirked, “Such a good girl for me.” 

He fucked back into you faster than before, your mouth going slack and nothing but moans escaping. 

“Pup!” you cried, reaching your arms up and tangling your fingers in his hair, “I’m going to cu-cum.” 

“Please,” he moaned, feeling his orgasm fast approaching, “Cum for me, baby. Let's cum together,” he kissed your temple, “Fucking cum around my cock, make a mess of me.” 

A few more thrusts and you came around him following Jake’s orgasm a couple of seconds later, his want cum filling you whole and some leaking out your hole and pooling on the floor. 

“Fuck,” he breaths against your ear, “Sex with you was so much better than I imagined it would be.” Jake was fucking insane. But that’s what made you love him so damn much, “Only imagined how good your cunt would feel wrapped around me and how it would feel to cum inside you. Holy fuck, honey.” 

You smiled and rested the side of your face against his. The sex was so much better than you imagined too. The only thing that was missing would be killing him. But how could you? You loved him deeply. But that didn’t stop your want to see how beautiful he’d bleed out for you. You looked for the knife, but Jake was too quick. 

“Awe babe,” he cooed, pressing the knife to your throat, his free hand grasping your hands and pressing them to your stomach, “You think you could pull a fast one on me?” he bit the shell of your ear and chuckled, “Here’s how things are going to go now,” he releases your hands and cupped your cheeks, pushing your head back to look at him, the knife pressing deeper, “You will keep your fucking mouth shut about these cases and let me take full control over it. You’ll sit in the office and look pretty while I close out the case and get rid of the evidence. You’ll give up this life as ghost face or else I’ll bury you six feet under myself, got it?” 

You swallowed, your arousal forming again, clenching around him. 

“You’d keep this a secret? All for me, pup?” 

Jake smirked, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips, “All for you baby, but do you understand me?” 

You nodded, not being able to say no to him. Not when he’s flipped the tables against you. He was fucking insane to keep this a secret when he has every opportunity to call the police and get you arrested. But it’s the fact that he is insane that he won’t do that. Not when he loves you oh so damn much. Jake was surprised he was so willing to drop the murder cases, all to keep you from harms way. He didn’t care if whatever this relationship was now was toxic. He just wanted you. 

Jake kissed you again, slowly sliding his tongue down your throat and sliding himself in and out of you slowly until you came around his cock again. 

Oh, what did Jake get himself into?

—perm tags: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @kangnina

@jwnghyuns @in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo

@addictedtohobi @eneiyri @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park

@vousty @ladyartemesia @criminalyun @cmoundiamante @enhaverse713586

@wondipity @lhsvibez @jaeyunq @rikizm @kaykay11sworld

@pockettwinzz @vixialuvs @seunghancore @enha-cafe @ohdeerhee

@sunpov @zeeloveshee @hxxsxxng @moonrisearies @brownsugarbaybee @nshmrarki

—tags: @hearts4itoshi @jennifestival @neosexuals @i58ssj @seunghancore

@emi-en @jentlecoeur @seonghwa10ve @yzzyhee @xenkimmie

@niniissus @minjaexvz @capri-cuntz @heeseungsbabyy

[writersblockedx]

Hi there!

I really love your fanfics!

I couldn’t use the link to submit a request so I’m sending it here !

What about a fanfic where Ried has a family but he’s kept it secret for so many years so they wouldn’t get hurt. He has a small daughter and a young son. One day at the office, he gets pictures of someone taking pictures of them with a threat so he has to come clean to the team and bring his family to the office to keep them safe and they are all shocked

Please no pressure for this fic! Love your work!!!

Securing Secrets / S.R.

Pairing - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Summary - Spencer has always attempted to keep his family safe. So much so, they had become a secret. But when their lives are threatened, he has no choice but to come clean and ask for the help of his team. Warnings - Stalking, mentions of violence and death Words - 3.8K 

A/n - I hope this is okay for you - I wrote a little more than I intended to but I still hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

It was no wonder why Spencer had kept his family to himself. When he had faced killers like Cat Adams and Tobias Hankle, he knew what humans were capable of - if he dared to even compare them to anything humane. So, he made the decision when he met Y/n to forever keep her a secret from his work. And when they started growing a little family with two children, he kept them a secret too.

Sometimes it killed him inside. As much as he loved his team, risking the lives of his family just wasn't enough for him. He had lost his first love, had his mother held captive, he wasn't about to risk his family too. He had learnt from his past - at least he thought he had done.

"Morgan, hey, no, you can't-" Y/n called towards their seven year old daughter whose sticky fingers had grasped a hold of a copy of fifty shades of grade. When she thought taking the kids on a day trip out to the book store would be easy, she hadn't imagined her seven year old reading smut. "You can't read that." She scolded before placing the book back on its shelf.

The bushy-haired girl gazed up at her mother, "Why not?" She huffed.

Her arm wrapped around Jay, their more reserved, four (and a half) year old. "Because it's an adult book. When you're old enough, you can read it."

"I am old enough, Daddy said I've got an advanced reading age!" Of course, she did - she was the daughter of the guy who could read 20,000 words a minute. Not to mention, she was going through the 'I'm old enough to do what I want' phase.

"Ask me again when you're 18, how about that?" She suggested before the child wrapped at her torso and stared up at her.

"Will Dada be home?" He asked.

Jay always liked coming home from their day trips to find Spencer already there, his head deep in another book or a case file. But days like that were rare - as much as both the parents hated such. "Erm-" Before she could give her son an answer, her phone started to ring. "That should be him." She gave the boy a smile before pulling out her mobile and seeing Spencer's contact staring back at her.

The man, from the moment they made it official, had always made sure to call her at the end of his working day. Whether he was in a hotel somewhere in the country, on the jet or if he was simply in his car, travelling home. "Hey, Spence, you should hear what Morgan wants to read-"

She could barely finish her breath, "Where are you?" He asked, his tone ever so stern that it was already making her nervous.

"The bookstore down town." She answered, already glancing around like she suddenly felt as if she was being watched. "Why?"

The girl could hear his uneven breaths on the other side of the phone, "I- Shit-" That's when Y/n knew something was wrong - her husband never swore...ever. "Can you come to the office? With the kids, we need you here."

"The office? Spencer, what are you talking about? I thought they didn't know."

"Yeah, well something's changed." Her heart started beating so fast that she wondered if Jay would be able to feel it. "Please, I need to know you're all safe."

She nodded and gazed over at her two children whom were waiting to hear about what Daddy had told her. "We'll be right over," She assured.

"And Y/n," He spoke, "In your car, in the glove compartment, there's a pistol, please, take it." What the hell had happened? Spencer could barely use a gun himself, never mind her. "I put it in there just in case and, just keep it on you until you get here."

"Okay, yeah." She didn't like the idea but, if someone was threatening them, if someone was putting her and her children at risk, she would do whatever was needed.

"I'll see you soon." Spencer huffed, "I love you."

"I love you too."

And with that, she ended the call. Only a single exhale dared to leave her lips before she stood. "Is Dada home?" Jay nagged.

She scooped the boy up into her arms, "No, but we're gonna visit him at work, okay?" Jay didn't seem happy about the idea but she'd rather the boy be safe than happy. "Come on," With her free hand, she grasped Morgan's finger tips tightly. "We need to go."

She rushed her and the kids into her parked car outside, making sure to look over her shoulder. Once she was seated in the driver's seat with the engine running, her gaze glanced to the glove compartment. Y/n needed to. Her hand leaned over, pushing it open and finding the gun stuffed behind a thick car manual. She grasped it for a moment before placing it on the passangers seat for easy access.

From there, she didn't take her foot off the gas. She was usually an ulta-safe driver. But, tonight, everything was different.

When they arrived to the BAU, Y/n pressed the button for the sixth floor and waited for the doors to glide open. With two children at either side of her, she wandered into the office. Her eyes instantly searched for Spencer. Instead, a blonde, colourful girl came running over to them. Well, walking as fast as she could in her thick heels. Garcia, Y/n assumed.

"Oh, you must be the lovely Mrs Reid," She sighed in relief when she came face to face with Y/n.

She glanced her up and down; there was no way this was JJ or Emily. "Penelope, right?"

The girl almost seemed surprised, "You- you know me?"

Y/n's face softened ever so slightly, "Of course."

"Y/n!" Her head turned from Garcia to see Spencer jogging over to her. Once he was close enough, he instantly engulfed the girl into a tight hug. "You okay?" He asked before pulling away and hugging his two children.

She nodded, "Yeah, we're okay, don't worry." When Spencer stood from hugging his kids, he gazed back over at his wife. She had grasped her hand from the back hem of her jeans, pulling out the pistol he had made sure she take. "Here, I've no idea what I'm doing with it anyway." Spencer took the weapon from her before her expression turned stern, "Now, what the hell is going on?"

Spencer's eyes instantly glanced down at their children; they didn't need to hear this. "Morgan, Jay," He spoke ever so softly to them as he leaned down, "Why don't you go with Garcia, she'll show you all her funky toys?" He glanced back at Penelope who was gleaming with a smile as she offer a hand for each child.

"Oh, yeah! I've got unicorns, fairies, fluffy pens, everything." She gleamed, trying to hide her fear for the true reason Spencer's family had been bought into the BAU. Once the kids took the woman's hand she gave one last look at the couple, "Let me know if you need anything."

The boy nodded before Garcia began leading the children towards her cave, "Someone- someone found you." He started to explain as he interlocked his hand with her, guiding the two over towards the conference room where the rest of the team were waiting. "I don't know how and I don't know who but- but around 30 minutes ago I had email to my work address. There's photos, almost a months worth."

Her brows narrowed at him, "Of what?"

"Of you."

Oh god. Despite all the effort the two had put in to keep their family personal, someone had still connected her and the kids to Spencer. And for whatever reason, they had become a target.

Spencer opened the door to the conference room, where the team were waiting. Most of them sat at the round table where they had several files and papers scattered in front of them. But at the entrance of Reid and his secret wife, they each turned. She offered them a weak smile before the man, whom she assumed was Hotch, spoke up, "Sadly we don't have much time for small talk, but we all want to help." He stood over towards Y/n and offered her his hand, "Aaron Hotchner."

She shook his hand, "Hotch, I should have known." And then she glanced around the table at the rest of the agents. Without hesitation, she named them all, "JJ, Emily, Rossi and Morgan." She smiled at each of them. "Spencer talks about you all a lot."

The boy next to her grinned every so slightly. "I wish we could have met differently." Morgan offered as he stood up, "Take a seat, we'll run you through what we know."

Y/n followed Spencer as the two sat at the round table and the tv screen in front of them started filling with papazzi-style photographs of the woman. Her grocery shopping, her at a bar with some friends, and even one from this morning: hand in hand with Jay as she led the two children into the bookstore they adored.

"You said this has been going on for a month?" How could that have been the case and she had no idea?

Hotch nodded, "We believe so yes."

"Who would want to do this?" She questioned; she wasn't exactly an interesting person. She had a normal life - as the pictures had proven.

Spencer took her hand, "We erm, we're not sure yet. We have one theory."

The tv screen clicked onto another slide. A woman's face filled the screen. A woman whom Y/n had heard far too much about: Cat Adams. "We know Adams has an obsession with Reid, and well, we know she likes to target his personal life," JJ informed as Y/n recalled the days in which Diana had been held captive. "If she somehow found out about you, it would have set her off."

"But she's in prison." Y/n pointed out.

Emily shrugged, "She was in prison when she found Reid's mother. She's- She's a master manipulator and ever since Reid first encountered her, he was the first man to challenge her." All of which Y/n already knew.

"If you really think it's her then-" Her eyes gazed over at Spencer, filled with worry, "You're going to have to talk to her aren't you?" It wasn't a question; she knew it.

Spencer sucked in a breath before he dared to nod.

It didn't take them long. Before Y/n realised it, she was watching out the window of the conference room as two prison guards held Cat by either one of her arms. She was smiling- no, she was smirking. She knew exactly what she was doing. Her eyes gazed around the office until she was forced into an interrogation room.

All they needed to know was who her contact was. Once they had a name, they could find them and put whoever that was in prison too.

Y/n stood next to Spencer as they stared at the woman through the double-sided mirror. "If she's done all this to get to you, why are we letting her talk to you?" The girl questioned.

"She always slips up in front of Reid." Emily answered - despite how much they all hated the idea.

Rossi was the first to pose another opinion, "What if we give her something she isn't expecting?" He suggested, "What if we don't give her Reid?" Surely, if the team sent in someone Cat Adams didn't expect, then maybe she would slip up just as easily - if not more so.

The older man shared a glance with Emily. A glance of which allowed them to silently suggest something; the two had an idea that wasn't yet shared with the rest of the group. It wasn't until Emily's eyes landed on Y/n that they started to understand what the two were thinking, "What if- What if we sent Y/n in?"

The girl scoffed; that must have been a joke. "You're kidding, right?" She laughed. "I mean, I'm not- I'm an agent. I'm a normal person. I can't talk to a criminal!"

"That's exactly what we need," Spencer spoke aloud without even realising, "She's expecting me, she's expecting FBI, send in someone different and it might just make her slip." Spencer turned to face Y/n, one hand gently cupping her cheek as he spoke, "Especially if we send in the very girl she's jealous of."

Y/n's head shook; she couldn't. She was with Spencer, but she wasn't a part of his world, "I can't."

"You can," His voice soothed, "You can do anything."

"We'll be right here," Emily assured.

Y/n glanced back at the window, at the criminal who had targetted her. If this was their best shot, then she might have to take it. Her family was at risk for goodness sake. Once they figured out who  her partner on the otherside, all this would be over. The girl sighed, "Fine," She finally agreed. "But if anything happens, if she does anything, please-"

Spencer was already nodding, "We'll get you out of there, don't worry." He promised.

His hands fell from her skin before she glanced between the other two agents, "How do I do  this then?" She asked.

"Go in there, vague questions, act better than she is, because you are," Emily mentored, "We need to figure out how she's orchestrated this."

With those instructions, the girl nodded and Rossi handed her the file. The one of which was filled with the stalker photos of herself and the kids, "See what happens if you show her these too, it might tell us a lot." He explained.

And with that, with that grace of a nod, a peck to Spencer's lips, the girl headed into the interrogation room.

Cat Adams was nonchalant. She had learnt a lot. She had learnt the best way to not let BAU agents know what she was thinking. But sending Y/n in certainly hadn't been what she expected.

The girl swallowed as she took the seat across from Cat with a very weak smile. She gazed up at the woman who had suddenly grown a sickly smile which made Y/n become nervous. She wanted to leave already, "Hi," Cat shrugged her shoulders and gazed softly at Y/n.

But the other girl was staring back with narrowed eyes, "Do you know who I am?" She questioned.

Cat leaned back and shrugged, letting out nothing but a hum. So Y/n leaned forward and placed one of the photos in front of the girl. It was just of her - no Jay or Morgan present. Just her, exiting her car as she headed to the store, "So you don't recognise this?".

She barely glanced at it, "Should I?"

"You know Doctor Reid though, don't you?"

Instantly, her demeanour shifted. But she desperately tried to hide it, "Bumped into him...sure." She shrugged it off.

Y/n thought for a moment before raising her left hand, wiggling her ring finger to show off her wedding ring to the girl, "Yeah well, I know him quite well." She said, watching as Cat's smile completely dissipated, "And he, well, he sort of mentioned you. I mean I sort of remember your name...remind me again? Carol? Cath-?"

"Cat." She cut in.

The girl faked a shock of realisation; this was exactly what Emily had asked: make herself look better than Cat.  "And you don't know me?" She glanced back to her wedding ring, "Wife." She spoke.

The girl huffed and smiled to herself like something was funny, "Yeah, good luck with that."

Y/n glared back at her, tilting her head. The words from Emily echoed through her mind. "And what do you mean by that?"

Cat doesn't want to answer that. More specifically, she doesn't want to answer Y/n. "He- he's complicated, I'm sure you're aware right? Girlfriend died, no dad around, mum got kidnapped, and well, god knows everything that's happened to his team." She almost finds it funny.

Y/n leaned her elbows against the metal table, "And you were the very person who took his mother. I know you, Cat. I know all you want is to win against my husband but tough luck, it's not going to happen." The girl tried to keep up her straight face but when facing Cat Adams, it seemed to be proving difficult.

She shrugged, "Maybe not before, but now I have you." Her eyes narrowed and suddenly Y/n grew nervous; she was behind this. All of it. "And of course, you two little munchkins." Her shoulders squeezed and she smiled sickly.

"So you do know them."

"I know everything."

A shiver flew down her spine. She was behind all of this. And Y/n couldn't help but ask: "And what do you want?" Y/n had some idea. This had nothing to do with her or the kids; it was all about getting back at Spencer.

She giggled, "Well there would be no fun in telling you, would there?"

"You can't do this myself yourself," Y/n stated. Once they had the name of whoever it was on the outside, they could get over this: they could move on.

The girl on the other side of the metal table simply shrugged, "Who says I am?" And like that, it was confirmed. Not only the fact that she was behind this, but that she had partner and the outsider. And that was all they needed  - for now, anyway.

With narrowed eyes, Y/n glared at the girl and started to stand from the chair. She didn't need anything else. She took a breath before turning her back, "You might want to look over your shoulder." Cat taunted.

Something of which, the girl had ignored as she continued out of the interrogation room. An exhale fell from her lips as she found herself back in the company of people she trusted. Of people she knew...with Spencer.

His hand instantly reached at her waist, pulling her close. The feeling of her skin at his releasing a relief she couldn't stop. He was safe. He was loving. He was her husband, "Are you okay?" He questioned before anyone else had the chance to speak.

The girl nodded but gave no words. What was she meant to say after a face to face with Cat Adams? "She's definitely behind this," Emily confirmed.

"She's working with someone too," Y/n added as she eased into the familiar feeling of Spencer.

"So now we know that," Y/n started as she gazed between the three agents, "What do we do now?"

"Now," Answered Rossi, "We get Garcia."

And so the group of them wandered over from the interrogation room and headed to what they called Garcia's 'cave'. And safe tp say was. No windows, just a lot of screens and several different sparkly things. Plush teddies, framed stock photos of puppies and a slingy which Jay was playing with.

"Hi," Y/n gleamed as she greeted her kids once more, "You two been good for Garcia?"

The woman stood from her chair, "They're angels," She smiled.

"We need your help now," Spencer said as they quickly entered back into the situation at hand. They didn't have time for small talk.

"Of course, anything."

And so she sat back at her chair as Spencer came to her side, beginning to list the profile they had started, "Look for names that pop up in the guest book of the hotel Montana, it's the building next to our house." Spencer informed and Garcia became manically typing. "They'll have been a guest for at least a month, cross check that with anyone from Cat's old life, work, college, high school, anything-"

"Nothing."

"What if- I mean surely whoever this person is would be using an alias," Y/n suggested.

A theory of which Spencer agreed with, "Bring up a photo of the guests who have stayed for a month."

Garcia followed: there were three. As they scrolled through high school pictures and then college- "There!"

A photo matched. A woman, same age as Cat, sickly sweet smile, fire red hair and geeky glasses. And then the name: Amy Duke. They had a name. They had everything Garcia could find. "That's got to be her," Emily confirmed.

"Garcia, send us everything." And like that, everything was go-go-go.

Y/n barely had a chance to speak before her hand was reaching out to stop Spencer from running off, "Hey," She called.

His hands cupped at her cheeks, "It'll be alright, I promise." He gave a smile which could ease her nervous a million times over. "Go home, I'll be there soon."

And like that, he was gone.

Y/n said her goodbyes to Garcia before taking her kids hand in hand and heading for the exit. She tried to not think about what Spencer was doing, about the woman he was facing. It was all too overwhelming. Instead, she focused on feeding her kids and getting them dressed for bed. It was horrible when they asked about where Daddy was - if he was coming home. All she could tell them was that it was going to be fine...even if she wasn't so sure of such herself.

She perched at the end of Morgan's bed, her door open, giving the woman a view of a sleeping Jay in the room across the hall. She didn't dare to leave her children when there was danger still looming over them. The girl watched as her daughter's chest rose and fell with her breaths. And after what felt like hours, the front door rustled open.

Y/n became alert, she flew up to her feet and wandered carefully out of Morgan's room. She lingered at the top of the stairs; what if it wasn't her husband? "Spence?" She called, worrisome.

He was already rushing up the stairs at the sound of her voice, "Hey, it's me don't worry." He met her at the top of the landing, engulfing his body around her. "It's over, I swear, she's been arrested, Cat is back in prison." Relief flooded her. "It's all over."

Her head gazed up at him, a slight grin brushing over her lips, "What a way to meet your second family, hey?" She giggled. And while the day had been horrid, there was some good out of it - she wasn't a secret anymore.

[baby-yongbok]

𝖣 𝖨 𝖲 𝖯 𝖠 𝖳 𝖢 𝖧

Husband!911 Operator!Bang Chan 𝗑 Afab!Reader

♡ Genre - Angst ♡ Word Count - 1.3k ♡ Summary - Chan has heard a lot of calls being a 911 operator but this is one that he never wanted to experience. ♡ Warnings - Themes of home invasion, Mention of guns [Please read responsibly. This is an emotional fic.] ♡ a/n - I wrote this after watching an episode of S.W.A.T 😭This fic is not proof read.

✧ Masterlist ✧

He hasn’t been on the night shift since your daughter was born. He liked to spend the nights with Nara when she was first born. He liked to come home to her drooling smiles and gleeful giggles after answering calls all day. He never knew what he’d get when he answered the phone. It could be something small like a cat being stuck in a tree but it rarely ever was. He was on a never ending loop of talking people down during one of their most anxious moments. Something that he hoped he would never have to do. 

“Ma’am, please try to stay calm. Can you repeat your address please?” Chan was laughing with Changbin, dimples on full display until he heard his co-worker repeat the address she was given. He dropped the water bottle in his hand, immediately turning on his heels and making his way behind her to look at the screen.

“Is there anyone else in the home?” It’s his address on the screen. You on the phone. There’s someone in the house with you and his daughter. Changbin comes up behind Chan, peering at the screen with curious eyes that widen quickly. “Is your daughter with you?”

“Chan.” His friend lays a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to pull him out of his shock but it’s no use. He’s too busy trying to hear your voice over the noisy office. Too busy trying to find out if you’re okay. 

“There are officers on the way ma’am just stay put okay?” Chan is tapping his co-worker before he can even process the action. She looks back at him with furrowed brows but her features soften once she realizes who it is. She knows that address, she knows it’s his.

“Give me the headset.” His voice betrays him as it wavers towards the end of the final word but the woman in front of him knew better than to question his request. She hands it over quickly and Chan puts it on with shaky hands. “Ma’am? My name is Chan and I’m going to stay with you through this, okay?”

“Chan?” He can hear the fear in your voice, the timbre shakes like glass windows in a storm and he swears that in that moment he could shatter. “Baby, please tell me it’s you. Please.”

“It’s me. I’m here.” Changbin takes it upon himself to coordinate with the call operator to track the units. He sprints through the office to his desk in hopes that his inquiry will speed up the process. In hopes that it’ll help save you. “Where’s Nara?”

“She’s in her hiding spot.” You mumble through tears, hushed sobs puffing past your trembling lips. “He has a gun, Channie.”

Chan’s eyes squeeze shut, brows furrowed as he tries his best to keep his cool. He wants to run to you, he wants to kill the guy who had the gall to break into his house. He wants to hold you and Nara and tell you that it’ll all be okay. “So do you.”

“His is bigger.” You quip, hopelessness tingeing the corners of your words. “How long until someone gets -” You’re cut off by the sound of heavy footsteps creaking against the hardwood of the main hallway. 

“Baby, please talk to me. I need to know that you’re okay.” He’s squeezing the edge of the desk as he waits for you to reply but all he hears are the shallow breaths that you’re desperately trying to hold. “Eta?” He asks over to his co-worker sitting below him.

“Three.” Chan’s eyes scan the screen with the call transcript, he’s staring. Waiting for your words to pop up. 

“Is he in the room with you?” His jaw is clenched and his tongue feels heavy with every word but the silence on your end speaks louder than any words that could come out of your mouth. “Baby, listen to me. I need you to stay as still as possible, okay? Don’t move unless you have to.”

You’re quiet, heaving breaths are the only sign that you haven’t been disconnected. The only sign that you’re alive. Chan runs a hand through his hair as his next sentence weighs on the heavy muscle in his mouth. “I love you, okay? I love you and I love Nara with -” 

His voice cracks as tears threaten to fall. He breathes them back, standing up straighter and trying his best to not let the damn behind his eyes break. “I love both of you with every ounce of my being. You’re going to be okay, the police are right around the corner but I need you to put down the phone.”

A sob catches in your throat and the heavy boots roaming your bedroom stop for a second. You watch the shadow from under the closet door with wide eyes. “I need you to hold the gun with two hands, just like I taught you okay? I need you to be ready in case -”

He’s interrupted by a sudden thud followed by frantic rustling. “Hello?” He can hear you, he can hear you breathing. He can hear your frantic movements then he can hear your screaming, your struggling.

“Y/n?” He’s panicking, shattering into a million pieces as he listens in on the other line. “Where the fuck are they?” Changbin runs up behind Chan, his hand returns to its earlier spot as he reports what he knows. 

“They’re outside, they’re there.” Chan’s gaze falls back to the screen, the green glowing transcript is unmoving on your part. It’s empty apart from the sound of your screaming. 

“Baby, I need you to fucking fight.” Tears are falling from his eyes, he’s redder than hot iron and his heart is shaking like a leaf in his chest. 

“Chan!” You’re screaming. Screaming his name, begging him for help and he’s not there. Your sobs are loud, rippling through the receiver accompanied by more rustling. He can hear the grunts of the assailant as he fights you but they’re easily drowned out by the sound of police sirens echoing through the air. 

“Fight, do you hear me?” He’s practically yelling into the headset. Eyes shut tight as he focuses on every single sound until he hears the one that he was dreading. It echoes louder than any scream he’s ever heard. He’s cold as soon as he registers the gun fire, his eyes fly open as he’s swallowed by the silence on the other line. It’s loud, once again louder than any words could be.

“Y/n?” His mind is running wild. His thoughts are swallowing him whole, wrapping him up in a darkness that he never knew could exist. Who fired that shot? “Baby?” His shaky voice is nearly a whisper, a desperate whisper with a hidden plea that you’ll answer him. 

Everything is still around him, time seems to evaporate as he counts the seconds without hearing your voice. Selfishly, he finds himself missing the screams. At least then he was sure that you’re alive, at least then he -

“Channie.” Your trembling voice rings through the receiver and Chan straightens up like a flower towards sunlight. “He’s dead.” 

Chan unravels in an instant. Tears run down his blushed cheeks like a free flowing river and the shards of his heart decorating his insides glisten in the hope of being put back together. “I fought for you.” His hands form fists in his hair as Changbin soothes his friend that best that he can. 

“You did great, baby.” He chokes out through sobs, trying his best to sound strong for you. Trying to be as strong as you’re being now. He listens as your daughter runs to you with tear stained cheeks and quivering lips that you kiss over and over again as you hold her close to your shaking frame. 

“Chan.” You mumble. “Please come home.”

He does his best to collect himself. He wipes his tears and tries to breathe normally. He blinks away the heartache lingering in his stomach and the anger multiplying in his chest. He fights it all away for you. He fights it all away just so you can hear him say this.

 “I’m coming to you, right now. I'm coming.” 

Thank you for reading! I hope that you enjoyed!

Likes, Reblogs and Comments make my day! Thank you for all support, it keeps me going!

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[ruh--roh-raggy]

This (William Afton x Fem! Reader SMUT)

Hello! Wow, I can honestly say I wasn't expecting that big of a response on my first fic so thank all of you so much!! I've got brain rot real bad about this man, so expect a lot of fics for him. Now, onto the fun part. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! ADULT CONTENT AHEAD, 18+ FIC AHEAD, MDNI, age gap (reader is in college, William is in his 40's/50's), jealous William, hinted that he killed your terrible coworker if you squint, thigh riding, unprotected sex, pnv sex, creampie, breeding kink if you squint, some spanking but it's nothing too intense, size difference (I just love me a big man what can I say?), cock warming, Reader is 5'0/152cm because that's how tall I am, whoops) dom William, slight degradation, definite praise, pining, domestic!William, OOC William, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, use of pet names sweetheart, honey, pretty little thing, bunny (I think that's everything, please let me know if I forgot any tags!)

Word count: 8,058

You can find my Masterlist here!

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You tapped softly on your boss’s half open door. You heard him finish up a phone call, the receiver clicking as he hung up. “Come on in.” He calls cheerfully. You push open the door, his gaze softening as it landed on you.

“Mr. Afton, can I talk to you really quick?” You ask nervously, anxiously tracing over the cold brass doorknob with your finger.

“Of course you can. Shut the door, come on in.” You do as he says, you swallow thickly as the door clicks shut behind you. You sat in one of the stiff pizzaria chairs he had at his desk, the once vibrant clumps of geometric shapes beginning to fade with age. “What can I do for you sweetheart?” He folds his hands in front of him as he shoots you a small smile. You always found yourself growing flustered under his gaze, your eyes darted to the nameplate that sat on his desk, tracing over the neat gold letters as you tried to steady your pounding heart.

“I was just wondering if you could stop scheduling me with Kyle?” You mutter, cursing internally at how stupid your request sounded.

“What happened? He didn't hurt you, did he?” The sudden flash of anger in his voice was unmistakable.

“No, nothing like that. It just feels like he always goes out of his way to give me the worst jobs. A kid throws up in the ball pit, I have to clean it up. A parent gets too drunk and trashes a table, I'm the one on my hands and knees making sure there's no fragments of glass still stuck in the carpet. I know this probably sounds ridiculous, I'm not trying to start problems-”

“(Y/N).” His gentle tone makes you freeze. Your eyes drift up to meet his. He reaches across his desk, holding his hand out for you. You tentatively slip your hand into his, your breath shaky as you watch him trail his thumb over your knuckles. His skin was so warm, you looked so small and delicate compared to him. “I'll deal with Kyle, okay? You're too pretty to be doing those jobs anyways.” You can't help but blush as he winks at you. He stands up, his height allowing him to tower over you as he walks you to the door, his hand on the small of your back. “Have a good night sweetheart, I'll see you tomorrow.” He smiles down at you.

“Goodnight, Mr. Afton.” You smile coyly at him as you turn to leave. He leans against the door way, his arms crossing over his chest as he scans over the pizzeria.

“Kyle!” He barks. “Come see me at the end of your shift bud, we need to have a little chat.” You couldn't keep the smile off your face as you pushed out of the building.

When you came back the next day you expected to see Kyle seething with rage over whatever punishment Mr. Afton had dished out, but he was nowhere to be found. You wandered back towards your boss’ office, wanting to let him know you had arrived to start opening. “There's my favorite girl.” He grins as you poke your head through the doorway. “Come sit, I took care of opening prep, you relax.” He nods in the direction of one of the chairs across from him. He never takes his eyes off of you as you sit rigidly in the seat. “You look tired, would you like some coffee?”

“Oh, you don't have to trouble yourself.” He attempts to wave you off, both of your actions cut short by the sound of your stomach rumbling. “Excuse me.” You look away awkwardly.

“I guess something a little more substantial than coffee is in order here.” He stands, motioning for you to follow him. You trail behind him as he leads you into the kitchen, the smell of the greasy premade pepperoni pizza baking in the oven practically making your mouth water. He grabs the wooden peel, expertly flicking the pizza onto it and retrieving it from the industrial sized oven. “So you haven't eaten and you look exhausted.” You cringed slightly as you waited for him to chastise you, knowing how bad it looked that you weren't showing up to your job with your best foot forward. He sets the pizza on a metal tray, leaving it to cool as his focus directs itself onto you. He takes a few long, agonizingly slow strides towards you. “Is everything okay, sweetheart?” You found yourself immediately growing flustered at the sound of the familiar pet name. Mr. Afton had been using the endearment since you had started, yet hearing it roll so effortlessly off of his tongue never failed to make your cheeks grow warm and arousal to pool between your legs.

“Yeah, it's stupid.” You try to brush your earlier problems of the day away, not wanting to bring attention to what you believed would come off as a childish reason to be upset. Seeing the concerned looks in your boss’ eyes prompted you to continue. “I got into a fight with my roommate today and I ran out of time to eat because we were arguing. I'm sorry-”

“Sweetheart, you don't have to apologize.” A shiver ran down your spine at the sound of his voice. “I'm worried, not upset.” His shoes enter your line of sight, which was currently trained on the floor, as he steps in front of you. A set of warm fingers ghost over the skin of your cheek, pushing back a stray tendril of hair that had fallen out of your messy attempt at tying it back. You slowly meet his hazy green eyes, a patient smile adorning his lips as he waits for his words to settle. You gave him a small nod in response. You walk out onto the main floor of the pizzeria, the eyes of the four life sized animatronics seeming to follow your every move. Although you had grown used to the sight of the vibrantly colored animals, there was something about them that still unnerved you. “Who's your favorite?” You jump slightly when Mr. Afton suddenly speaks up. You breathe out a laugh as you turn to face him.

“Bonnie,” his face lights up at your immediate answer, “I've always liked rabbits.” You join him in the small booth, he eyes you carefully as he serves you a piece of pizza on a napkin. “Thank you for the pizza, Mr. Afton.”

“William.” He corrects with a small smile. “There's no need to be so stiff outside of work hours, doll.”

You can't help but giggle at his playful tone. “Well, thank you for the pizza, William.” He straightens up slightly at the sound of you saying his name. You were honestly a bit surprised to say that you were having a good time. William was charismatic, funny, a little awkward but in a way that came off as endearing. You stood side by side with him in the kitchen, working in tandem to clean up the dishes you made from your impromptu lunch date. You kept finding your eyes drifting over to him, the sight of his sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows, his muscular forearms flexing as he twisted a rag inside of a cup. You swallowed thickly, quickly tearing your eyes away from him and back to the metal pizza pan.

“Right behind you, sweetheart.” William groans as he reaches around you to grab a dry rag. Your heart pounded in your chest as he leaned into you. You feel his arm brush against your back and you dared to look over at him considering that you might never get the chance to be so close to him again, your little secret crush on your boss refused to let you miss that opportunity. You let out a small, startled squeak as you found him already looking at you. Everything about him seemed to only drag you in deeper as you got caught up in his gaze. The deep, musky smell of his cologne, his mossy green eyes holding you firmly in place. His arm wraps around your waist, your hands flying to his chest as he pulls you into him, his lips crashing against yours. It took a moment for your mind to catch up with what was happening to your body. Your eyes fluttered shut, the warmth of being pressed tightly to him seeping into you as you let yourself give in to what you truly wanted. Your hands slid over the soft fabric of his shirt, your fingers just barely grazing over his collar to pull him closer when the main door to the pizzeria slammed open and the excited voices of your coworkers filed in. You startled apart, Williams eyes immediately averting to the floor as a look of shame rapidly spreads across his features. He mutters out a hurried apology as he pushes past you, through the kitchen doors, and directly into his office. You saw your friend Ashley jump as the door slammed behind him, eventually seeing you standing alone in the kitchen as your face dropped into your hands. You had no reason to be but you felt embarrassed. Your whole face burned as the moment replayed itself over and over in your head.

“What the hell was all of that?” Ashley exclaims in a hushed tone as she enters the kitchen.

“Nothing!” You turn to the sink, pretending to wash your hands as an excuse to not have to look at her. “Mr. Afton had an important call to take.” She eyes you curiously, knowing you weren't being honest with her. You felt sweat begin to bead at your temple under her scrutinizing gaze.

“Fine, keep your secrets.” She huffs playfully as she crosses her arms over her chest. She quickly closes the gap in between you, “but if you're fucking the boss and you're not telling me I'm going to be so mad.” You knew it was a joke but you were still a bit on edge from the earlier ordeal.

“Keep your voice down!” You snap, quickly looking over at his office door to see that it was, thankfully, still shut. She gasps, your nervous body language giving you away.

“Tell me everything.” She grabs you by the shoulders, forcing your attention back on her. “Is he good? Is he… y'know?” Her eyes flashing down to your crotch and back up. “Is he big?”

“Ashley!” You attempt to shush her again. “I'm not sleeping with Will-Mr. Afton.” You hurried to try and correct yourself, but your little slip up only added more fuel to the fire.

“Were you about to call him William?” She grills you, a wide, excited smile taking over her face. “Do you guys have pet names for each other? I hear him call you sweetheart all the time but I thought that was just because you're his favor-” You clamp a hand over her mouth, it was the only way you could think of to get her quiet.

“Just hang on,” you wait to see if she was actually done talking before pulling your hand away. “I came in early to open. I was supposed to be working with Kyle but he never showed. I think Mr. Afton might have fired him.”

“Did you finally go talk to him about that creep?” She asks as she leans up against the counter. You nod in response, “good, he was making your life a living hell here. Continue…” she prompts with a wave of her hand.

“I walk over to his office just to let him know that I'm here and he tells me that everything's already done-that’s not the important part.” You took a deep breath to steady yourself before telling her what had gotten you so frazzled. “He was helping me clean some dishes and he reached around me for the towel, so what was I supposed to do? Not look?” Ashley chuckles, being the one person who knew about your crush she understood how impossible that would have been for you. “I looked over at him and he was already looking at me and then he kissed me and then you guys came in-”

“Hold on. Pause.” She holds up her hands to get you to halt your recap. “He kissed you?” You nod, but before you had time to continue one of your coworkers kicked open the double doors to the kitchen.

“Alright ladies, I hate to interrupt, but I got some pizza to make.” He groans through his forced smile.

“We’ll talk about this later.” She whispers hurriedly as she ties her apron around her waist. You nod, copying her motions as you prepare to open for the day. Throughout your shift you kept thinking about the kiss. Did it mean something or was it just an impulse? Did William somehow know about your crush on him? You stood at the side of the pizzeria, unable to keep the smile off of your face as you watched him take a picture with an excited child. You found your mind wandering again, the delighted scream, pings, and whirrs of the room around you seemed to almost fade away. You could still feel his arm wrapped around your waist, how strong his broad chest was under the palms of your hands. You snapped yourself from your daydream, the glowing white eyes of the Spring Bonnie suit studying you carefully. You straightened up, hurrying off to the kitchen so you wouldn't be seen slacking. By the end of the night you had just about driven yourself crazy with questions. Questions you were determined to get answers to. You said goodbye to your coworkers, promising Ashley that you would catch her up when you were able to. You walk up to your boss’ door, a determined look etched into your features. You raised your fist, freezing just before knocking. Why was this so hard? He kissed you! If anything you should be furious! He had completely ambushed you out of nowhere and you had spent the whole day walking around in a fog because of it. But, part of you was worried about what his answer might be. It was easy to hide your feelings from him up until now; glances that lasted a little too long, walking a little too close to him so your fingers could brush his, it could all be passed off as if it were nothing. Now, you were standing in front of his door ready to charge in there to demand an explanation for the kiss not because you were upset with him… but because you were hopeful about what the implications of what that kiss could mean. Before you had the chance to decide for yourself what you were going to do the door opened. William froze at the sight of you standing on the other side. He sighs, raking a hand through his already messy hair.

“(Y/N), I'm sorry about earlier, I don't know what came over me.” Your heart cracked slightly at his apology. So, it really was just an impulse. “Can we… Can we talk about this? I think it might be better for both of us to get it all out in the open.” You were struggling to fight against the tears blurring your vision.

“I think I'm just going to go home, Mr. Afton.” You grimaced at the sound of your voice shaking.

“Sweetheart, I can't let you drive like that.” He carefully wipes away a tear that had slipped onto your cheek. Your lip quivered at the sound of his pet name for you, a soft sob breaking free from your chest as you couldn't hold back your tears any longer. William quickly pulls you into his arms, letting you hide against him. “That's it, let it out.” He says as he soothingly rubs your back. Your arms finally slid around his torso, he rocked you back and forth slightly as he waited for you to calm down. You sniffle as you pull back from him, his warm hand cupping your cheek. “You're even pretty when you cry.” He muses. Your cheeks flushed at the compliment. You allow him to wipe away any remaining trails of tears, realizing after avoiding each other all day that you missed being close to him.

“William,” your voice was a hoarse croak as you spoke. You place a hand over the one he has resting on your cheek. “I want to kiss you again… please.” His eyes widened slightly at the request. But, once he let your words sink in, he wasted no time granting your request. You stumbled back slightly as he kissed you passionately. You grab onto his collar, keeping him flush against you as you reveled in the sensation. One of his hands slaps haphazardly against the doorway as he guides the two of you inside, roughly kicking the door shut before slamming your back against it. He takes your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head in one swift movement. You whimpered softly as he pulled away from you, despite your desperate need to breathe you felt like you would die without his lips on yours. You had to look almost straight up in order to meet his eyes, a wild and hungry look dominating his gaze. He breathes out a chuckle at the sight of you, the look you gave him so full of need it nearly brought him to his knees.

“Such a pretty little thing you are, sweetheart.” He slowly swipes his thumb over your bottom lip, the flesh tender and swollen for the one mind numbing kiss he had granted you. “I can't tell you how long I've wanted you.” You whine as you feel his leg push in between your own. You were forced up onto your toes, struggling to contain the soft moan that bubbles up in your throat at the delicious pressure against your clit.

“Enlighten me.” You challenge, earning a deep, rumbling laugh from him.

“Surely, you must've known.” His head dips into the crook of your neck, biting you hard enough that you knew he would leave a mark behind. “I see you everyday; the way those tight little jeans mold to your ass, how your shirt is always pulled down just low enough to tease me…” you see the briefest look of jealousy flash through his eyes. “How those immature, snotty little college boys are constantly throwing themselves at you.” He pushes into you, his lips staying just out of reach as he keeps you pinned in place. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, he smirked as he felt you squirming against his thigh. “What's the matter sweetheart?” He asks sardonically. You were having trouble thinking straight. Every time you let your full weight sink into him it only made you need his touch more, his hot breath fanning over your lips made your whole body ache for him. “I think you know that no one could take care of you like I could, don't you?” You nod in response, your breathing growing noticeably quicker as he questioned you. His forehead comes to rest against yours, his dull green eyes searching your features for any sign of hesitation. “Well then how about I give you a night you'll never forget?” He smiles sharply at you.

In one sweep of his arm his entire desk is cleared off. Paperclips scatter across the floor alongside papers and whatever other trinkets decorated the wood surface. He grabs your hips and pulls you roughly to him, his lips ferociously meeting yours in a kiss that knocked all the air from your lungs. Your initial fight for dominance over the kiss was very short lived. If anything, William found your defiance rather cute. He growls against your lips, a sound that has your knees threatening to buckle. His hands slide from your hips down to your ass, groaning as he gives it a firm squeeze. You squeak as he easily lifts you from the floor, guiding your legs around his waist as he sets you on his desk. He fumbles blindly with the button of your jeans, eventually being able to start working then down your legs. “I can't wait to fucking ruin you.” He presses a hand flat against your chest, pushing you back onto his desk. You struggle not to blush, turning away from him so he hopefully wouldn't notice. Your fingernails dig into wood as he teases at your entrance with his fingers. “Such a cute little bunny.” He smirks. “Already so wet for me and I haven't even touched you yet.” He takes your chin between his fingers, turning you to look at him. “Look at me sweetheart, I wanna see those pretty eyes when I fuck you senseless.” His hand dips under the hem of your shirt, his large, warm hand roaming your bare torso as you lay compliantly before him. He roughly grabs your jaw, watching your expression carefully as he eases his fingers into you at an agonizingly slow pace. A strangled gasp breaks free from your throat as his digits bottom out in you, your gummy walls clenching around them.

He chuckles as you roll your hips, searching desperately for any type of relief. He begins to rock his fingers inside of you in time with your movements, taking his time to fully stretch you out in preparation for what was to come. As he gradually increased his pace the louder your moans became. You gripped tightly onto the arm that had moved from your jaw to the desk next to your head, your nails digging little crescent divots into his skin. “You look so fucking pretty like this.” He looks over you, drinking in the way your body writhed from his touch.

“William.” You whimper his name.

“What is it, bunny?” He coos. “What does my needy girl want, hm?”

“Want… want to touch you.” Your words came out slurred as you fought through your moans and the mind numbing pleasure he was inflicting on you.

He tuts at your demand, giving you a disappointed pout. “Poor thing, you want to touch me?” You nod furiously. He fingers thread into your hair, giving the strands a rough tug to ensure that your eyes are on his. “Ask nicely and maybe I'll let you.”

“Please.” Your wide innocent eyes pricked with tears as you gazed up at him longingly. He hummed, pondering over your pathetic state as he continued to slowly rock his fingers inside of you. “William, please, please let me touch you. I want… I need you.” Your begging came cracking out in a sob, tears sliding down your face as you grew more desperate to get your hands on him. William chuckles at the sight of you.

“Such a needy little thing” He smirks. He lets the request hang in the air for a moment, the only sound filling the room was the squelching of your arousal in his hand as he fingered you. His lips land on your pulse, causing you to shiver. He takes your wrist in his massive hand, guiding it to the top button of his dress shirt, giving you permission to start undressing him. Your fingers shook as you worked at the fastenings, Williams pace never slowing making it difficult for you to focus on the task at hand. Your struggling was going to be well rewarded. Once you had undone the final button on his shirt, William grabbed you roughly by the collar, hauling you to a sitting position so you were now sitting face to face with him. You whined at the sudden emptiness of him removing his fingers, but your annoyance was short lived. You pushed the dress shirt from his shoulders, William making quick work of discarding his undershirt into an empty chair in the room. You just about drooled at the sight of him. His broad shoulders and strong arms from years of working on machines in his shop flexed and shifted under the dim office lighting. You couldn't tear your eyes off of him as he started loosening his belt. You blush as he chuckles, realizing you had been caught staring. “Like something you see, sweetheart?” He asks in an amused tone. He prowls over to you, the buckle of his belt jangling as it hangs limply as his side, his pants falling low on his hips.

You bite your lip, reaching out for him once he’s close enough. You wrap your legs around his waist, fingers threading into his hair as his lips crash into yours. You run a hand over his chest, the thick carpet of coarse hair tickling your palm. In one swift movement your shirt is pushed over your head, your breasts bouncing slightly as they fall back into place after the disruption. William admired the soft lace that complimented your skin. His hands slide over your waist and up your back until he reaches the clasp of your bra. He fumbles with it a few times until the tension of the elastic finally relaxes. He takes his time removing your final article of clothing. The straps are eased off your shoulders one at a time, his beard ticking your bare skin as he places delicate kisses anywhere he could reach. Goosebumps spread across your chest as the fabric is finally fully removed, William’s eyes drifting down to get a full view of your perfect form. He lets out a primal growl at the sight before his lips latch into yours again. His fingers dig into your hips, dragging you to the very edge of his desk in order to line his cock up with your entrance. You moan into his mouth as he sheathes himself full inside you in one hard thrust. Your breath comes out in long, shaky exhales as you struggle to adjust to his size. Even with the prep from his fingers he still stretches you to a point that makes you feel like you're about to rip in half. William was a lot bigger and thicker than any guy you had been with previously. You already felt drunk just from the sensation of him bottoming out in you. “Eyes on me, bunny.” He whispers in a gentle tone. Your eyes flutter open, you hadn't realized you had even shut them to begin with, meeting his hazy green ones. You cry out as he gives you a single sharp thrust, a mixture of pain and pleasure burning white hot through your body as you struggle to take all of him. He lets out a satisfied hum as he studies your fucked out expression. “Already cock drunk, hm?” He chuckles, resting his forehead against yours to keep your attention on him. With every snap of his hips it brought you closer and closer to your climax, your moans impossibly loud in the small, cramped office. “You wanted this all along, didn't you sweetheart? You knew those stupid little boys could never make you feel like this.” He snarls. “Now, here you are, about to cum on my cock.” Drool had started to leak out of the corner of your mouth as you struggled to keep your eyes on his. He dips a hand between your legs, rubbing fast circles on your clit.

“William!” You moan out his name, his free arm wrapping securely around you to hold you tightly against him.

“Such a dirty girl, fucking someone nearly twice your age.” He chuckles cruelly, his eyes darken as they meet yours through your haze. “Pathetic.” Degrading you like that seemed to unleash something primal in him. His thrusts somehow managed to get faster and more brutal. You screamed as your orgasm ripped through you, desperately crying out his name as you clawed against his back. His hands wrap under your thighs, lifting you from the desk slightly in order to get better leverage. “Fuck.” He groans, his thrusts losing their rhythm as he approaches his end. He kisses you hard as he finishes, hot ropes of his cum coating your walls. You both stayed locked in your embrace for a moment, waiting for your breathing to calm down. You wince as he pulls out of you, a slight sting as your absurd cunt attempts to clamp around nothing. He looks around the room for something to clean you up with, deciding on his shirt when nothing else seemed plausible. He gingerly reaches in between your legs, a softness and hesitancy you didn't expect after the evenings most recent events. You let out a soft hiss at the slight bit of pain you felt as he cleaned you up. He soothingly caresses your thigh with his free hands, shooting you an apologetic look from his position situated in between your legs. You studied him for a moment, his gaze distant, and hazy as it trailed to the floor.

“William.” Your soft voice drifted over his ears, bringing his attention back to you. You adjusted your position so you could sit up. “Come here.” He stands, even sitting on his desk he still towered over you. You wrapped your arms around him, resting your chin on his soft stomach. You trail your hands over his back, his skin slightly sticky with sweat.

“I’m sorry if I took things too far-”

“You didn’t.” His gruff voice was cut off with your quiet reassurance. “You were amazing.” You give him a coy smile before pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. A small smile breaks out on his face as he chuckles at your glimmering expression.

“Come on bunny, let’s get you dressed.” He combs his fingers through your hair, “although I will never get tired of looking at your beautiful body.” He winks causing you to blush, you lightly slap his chest. He places a kiss on your forehead before collecting your clothes. You feel eyes on you as you’re getting dressed, you can’t help but smirk when you look over your shoulder so see William staring at your ass. You make a show of stepping into your panties, adjusting them so they are perfectly in place before shimmying into your jeans. William was practically drooling as he watched your supple flesh jiggle as you worked yourself into the tight clothing. You place one final kiss to his burly chest before he slips his undershirt back over his head. He trails a finger over your jaw. “I was hoping we could make this a more than one time thing… Maybe I can take you out to dinner after work some night?” He asks with a charming, lopsided smile.

“I’d really like that William.” You push yourself up on your toes, having him meet you halfway to place a chaste kiss to your lips. “Goodnight.” You whisper with a smile.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” He breathes out a laugh as you both slowly pull away. You grab your jacket and bag from the employee locker room, giving William one small wave as you pass by his office on your way out. You fell into your driver seat with a groan, sticking your keys in the ignition, your heart still pounding in your chest. You turned the key expecting your engine to rumble to life, but your car refused to start. You tried again and again, falling against the steering wheel with an aggravated sigh. You kicked open the door and trudged back inside. William gave you a confused look as you walked back up to his door. “Everything alright?”

You grew embarrassed over the fact you had to ask. You never had anyone who was able to teach you about cars, you wouldn’t know the first thing about trying to find the problem yourself. “My car won’t start. I hate to ask, but could you come look at it?”

“Of course, honey. I’ll take care of it.” Your heart flutters in your chest at him taking charge of the situation. You definitely could get used to having him around, there was something about his unwavering confidence that made you long for him even more. You follow him back outside, watching him carefully as he examines your engine, a massive black flashlight held tightly in his hand. “I see the problem.” He groans as he reaches to point something out to you. “You need a new timing belt.” He points out the problem, excitedly going through the mechanics as you listened attentively. “You can leave your car here, I’ll pick you up a new one tomorrow.” He stuffs his hand in his pocket. He twirls his keys around his pointer finger. “Let me just go lock the door and I’ll drive you home.” You nod, growing giddy over the fact you would get to spend more time with him. He wraps his arm around your shoulders as he leads you around back to his car. You slide stiffly into his passenger seat. The inside of his car was pristine, some vintage model muscle car you didn’t know the name of. William’s hand envelops your thigh as he drives, ever so often giving the soft skin a gentle squeeze as you direct him to your off campus apartment. You lived in the not so great part of town, even outside of Hurricane standards. Shootings, stabbings, human trafficking, all of it had happened somewhere in your neighborhood. You noticed William’s expression grow more concerned as you drove. You eventually pulled up in front of your building, a rickety looking triple decker that looked like it would collapse from a slightly too strong gust of wind.

“Well this is me.” You state softly with a slight shrug of your shoulders. William sighed as he stared up at your building.

“You live here by yourself?” He glances at you in the passenger seat as he asks. You nod in response. “Bunny, would you like to come spend the night at my house. It’s dangerous for a girl like you to be by herself out here.”

“Spend the night with you?” You repeat his request back to him, he nods slowly, worried he crossed a line. “If you’re offering, I'm definitely not going to say no.” You lean across the cab of the car, pressing a kiss to his cheek. The drive back to his house was spent mostly in silence, every so often his hand would drift from your thigh to bringing your knuckles to his lips. You left the main part of town, the houses you passed becoming few and far between as the sides of the road were taken over by tall fir trees. You pulled up in front of a cozy looking house, the outside paint faded from years of abuse from the harsh Utah weather.

“Home sweet home.” Me mumbles with a lopsided grin. You trail closely behind him as you walk up to the door, jumping at every snapping twig and animal scurrying through the brush. “There’s nothing to be scared of sweetheart, I’ll keep you safe.” He smiles down at you, keeping you tucked into his side as he unlocks the door. He gently nudges you inside first, following closely behind you. The second the door clicks shut William’s lips are on yours again, a flustered sigh escaping you as you melted into him. “I’m going to get dinner started.” He mumbles against your lips.

“Would you like some help?” He nods, motioning for you to follow him to the kitchen.

“I would love some.” He grins at you. The two of you worked side by side to prepare dinner, every so often you would catch William stealing glances at you out of the corner of your eye. “Honey.” He suddenly speaks up, you turn to face him only for him to pull you into a kiss. “You just sit here and look pretty, I’ll finish this up.” His large hands wrap around your waist, he lifts you from the floor and sets you on the counter with ease. He hums as he works beside you, easily recreating his recipe from memory. Always keeping you on your toes, he was making homemade tomato soup and grilled cheese. He takes quick pauses, caging you in between his arms on the counter as he gives you rushed kisses that leave your head spinning. He holds out his hand for you, a gesture you gladly accept. He helps you down from the counter, balancing your plates and bowls on his arm. You sit across from each other at the small dining room table. “So what’s a pretty girl like you doing in a shit hole like this?” He asks with a chuckle.

“Unfortunately this shit hole has one of the best colleges in the state.” You respond with a laugh of your own.

“What’s your major?”

“Mechanical engineering.” You respond the moment he finishes his question. He looked very perplexed by your answer.

“What made you want to take that up?” He leaned forward, completely focused on you alone.

“Well, honestly, you did.” You blush a bit as you respond. “The animatronics you make are phenomenal. I hope one day I can be half as talented as you are.” He looks away bashfully, not used to such direct flattery.

“Maybe I can have you help out in the workshop sometime.” He offers with an excited glint in his eyes.

“If it means spending more time with you I would love to.” You shoot him a flirtatious smile. You find yourselves drifting closer together as you clean up after dinner. You gathered up your plates, standing on your toes to try and put them in the cabinet with the rest. You let out a frustrated sigh as you struggled to reach. The warmth of William’s body pressing into yours from behind made you freeze.

“I got it sweetheart.” He chuckles, taking the plates from your hands. “Such a cute little thing you are.” He whispers next to your ear making you shiver. You squeal as he lifts you from the floor, taking you in his arms as he carries you upstairs. He tosses you onto the bed, stripping out of his clothes with a groan, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. You can’t help but smirk slightly as you grab him by the wrist and pull him in to kiss you. “Strip, I wanna hold you.” He commands. You decide to give him a little show, taking your time to peel out of your jeans, swaying your hips as you pull your top over your head. You stripped out of your lingerie before straddling his lap. His hands knead your ass, rocking you gently against the already half hard erection in his boxers. He pulls you into bed, shutting off the lights before joining you himself. He slings an arm over your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest. You bite your lip, shifting your hips as you feel his cock press into your back. The moon cast in through the window, basking the room in a dull silver glow. You hear William’s breath catch in his throat as you press your ass into his throbbing member. “Someone’s needy.” He chuckles, his breath hot against his ear. “What’s the matter bunny, need me to fill you up?” You nod, letting out a soft whine as you push back into him again. He places a kiss just below your ear, spreading your legs with his hand as he lines himself up with your entrance. You let out a broken moan as he slowly pushed inside of you.

“Holy fuck.” You gasp, your fingers digging into his forearm as you grab him tightly as your walls stretch painfully around him. “Wow.” Your eyelids fluttered as your eyes rolled back in your head. His fingers slid around your throat, putting a delicious pressure on your neck.

“Such a good bunny, taking me so well.” His meticulous hand placement was starting to make you feel light headed, the mixture of the sensation and his praise making you dizzy with dopamine. You moan as he rolls his hips slightly. “You feel so good squeezing around my cock.” He purrs before placing a kiss on your cheek. You squirmed and whined as you lay there, impaled on his throbbing cock. William groaned at how wet you were, he could feel your juices dripping down the base of him. “So pretty sweetheart.” He coos, chuckling at your desperate state. His arm tightens around you, rolling his hips and causing you to cry out. You cursed as he pushed impossibly deep inside of you, your body moving instinctually as you bounced on his cock. He groans, his hips snapping up to meet yours. Your moans grew louder and more fervent with every thrust, his tip kissing the perfect spot inside of you everytime. Your thighs started to shake as you felt your climax creeping up on you. “Are you going to cum for me sweetheart?” He asks in a sweet voice. You nod, biting your lip to try and muffle your moans. You yelp as he suddenly delivers a sharp slap to your ass. “I want to hear you bunny.” He growls in your ear.

“Yes sir.” You gasp, letting your moans fall freely from your mouth. You let out a high pitched whine as your orgasm hung joust out of reach. You moan out his name, he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, making you cry out in pleasure. He reaches a hand in between your legs and swipes his fingers over your clit.

“So good for me.” He praises you. He wraps his hands around your waist, helping you fuck yourself faster on his cock. You scream his name as your orgasm rips through you, sobbing as he fucks you through your climax. Your whole body shook, your hand gripping weakly onto his wrist. “I got you sweetheart.” He whispers, settling himself deeply inside of you. Your eyelids felt heavy as you nestled into his soft pillows. He pulls the comforter up around your shoulders. You smiled at the scent of his musky cologne. Every small shift from him made you whine, after letting you rest for a while he began to rock his hips again. Small gasps and sighs falling from your lips as he tenderly fucks into you. “I’m gonna fill you up.” He groans, his thrusts growing uneven and stuttering every so often.

“Please.” You moan softly. Hearing your soft voice only seemed to spur him on. His slow deep thrusts had both of you moaning. You held on tightly to William’s arms, wanting to be pressed as close to him as possible. He groans your name as he finishes, his hips stuttering as he pushes as deep inside of you as he can manage. He places soft kisses to the nape of your neck as he pulls you into his chest. You found yourself easily drifting off in his arms, before you knew it you had drifted off into a dreamless sleep. When you woke up you rolled over, cuddling into his warm back. You placed a soft kiss to a couple of the faded scars on his shoulder.

“Well good morning sweetheart.” He hums as he rolls over and pulls you into his chest. “You wanna stay in bed while I get breakfast started?” His voice raspy and deeper than normal as he fought off the thickness of sleep.

“Can you stay in bed just a little longer.” You put, nuzzling your face into his neck.

“Sure, anything for you sweetheart.” He says with a smile and a kiss to your forehead. You laid on top of his chest, your fingers trailing through his chest hair as you talked about the plan for the day. He places a soft kiss to your lips as he slides out from underneath you to go get dressed. You cuddle up into the blankets, watching the muscles in his back flex as he gets dressed. A little while later he returned with a tray full of food, setting it in between the two of you. The two of you chatted pleasantly over breakfast, William consistently making you smile and laugh. “I’m going to head out to the garage, take your time getting ready, I’ll be out there when you’re done.” You grab him by the collar, keeping his lips on yours for a little longer than normal. He shoots you a wink as he slips out of the bedroom. You took your time getting ready, slipping into one of his shirts, the oversized clothing falling half way down your thighs. You washed your face and fixed your hair before wandering downstairs to find William. You heard the sound of powertools and pushed through the door. William stood with a welding mask on, his shirt discarded over a nearby chair. His skin, completely drenched in sweat, glowed in the dim overhead lighting. Streaks of grease dragged down his neck and across his stomach from where he had rubbed his hands across his skin. He flips his mask off when he notices you entered his workshop. “Hey bunny.” He grins. You saunter over to him to look over his expert work.

“You really are incredible, William.” He runs his fingers through his hair as he clears his throat, a noticeable blush on his face. You stood by him, allowing him to walk you through his process, an arm wrapped around your waist as he kept you tucked safely against him.He cursed as he looked up and noticed the time.

“We’re gonna be late.” He takes your hand, leading you inside. He pulls you into a heated kiss as he helps you out of your borrowed clothes. He picks you up and carries you into the shower. You yelped and giggled as your back pressed into the frigid wall. William carefully lets down your hair before allowing you to wet it. You sigh as he works shampoo into your hair, gently massaging your scalp. You couldn’t help but stare as you watched the soapy water run down his body. He wraps you up in a fluffy towel, retrieving your work clothes as you dried off. You both ran to his car, laughing as you fell into the front seats. “I’ll run out and grab the timing belt for your car after I check in on Freddy’s.” He promises. You nod, a bit sad that your stay with him was over so quickly. You fall into him as he turns sharply into the parking lot. He tilts your chin up with a finger, a softness in his eyes as he studies your features. His eyes flash down to the dark bruises and bitemarks that littered your neck. “Are you, um… are you okay with people knowing about this?” He asks with a slight wavering in his voice.

“This?” You ask with a coy smile as you raise your eyebrow at him.

“Us.” He blurts out before swallowing thickly. You lean in ,placing a soft kiss against his lips.

“Only if you are.” He breathes out a soft laugh, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. He walks around to your side of the car as you’re gathering your things, opening your door for you. You thank him softly as he helps you out. You link your arm through his, leaning your head on his shoulder. He holds the door open for you, wrapping his arm around your waist before pressing his lips to yours in one long, loving kiss.

“I’ll see you after work, bunny.” He winks before slipping off to his office. You smile as you watch him head out, adjusting his tie and greeting customers as he passes by. You turn to look out over the pizzeria, meeting Ashley’s shocked expression. She speed walks over to you, her eyes immediately falling to your abused neck.

“What happened to catching me up?” She yell whispers at you.

“Things might have gotten a little more serious than just a kiss.” You admit awkwardly.

“Well no shit, look at the hickey’s he gave you.” You smile as you catch his gaze from his position seated at his desk.

“He wants to make sure everyone knows I’m his.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Tag List: @yellowbunnydreams @zoey5252 @redflowery (I think that's everyone, if you'd like to be added to the tag list or I forgot you please let me know!!)

[chaos-in-deepspace]

LNDS: Heartstring Healer Continued | 18+ NSFW

Aight homies, since the devs wanna dehydrate us with the lack of Zayne content, imma have to make sure we're watered. This is a continuation of his newest card "Heartstring Healer". I recommend listening to the card before reading this. You can find them on youtube I swear this community be pullin through for the people who can't ever get cards or afford stuff.

Also I wrote this in like two hours and kinda went over it, but it is what it is, Sorry if it goes to past and present tense. I tried fixing it but your home boy be tired af.

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+. Warnings: Oral Sex (Giving), Slight Exhibitionism, Teasing, Medical Roleplay, Penis in Vagina Sex, Almost Caught, Unsafe Sex, Creampie, Multiple Orgasms, Fingering Synopsis: You visit Doctor Zayne during one of his trips and find out that he has quiet a bit of fans. When you finally corner him, you decide to prescribe a treatment plan to help you both with your jealousy. Word Count: 5,149

Blog Information | Masterlist

Zayne

Heartstring Healer Continuation

The hallways were livelier than you expected after Doctor Zayne's lecture. You had seen the crowd of students that tried gathering around your doctor, wanting even an ounce of his attention. Some holding gifts, others trying to invite him to some of the other events.

In all honesty, you were a little annoyed. You knew they had no way of knowing that Zayne was taken since he didn't exactly wear a ring, but you couldn't help it. Knowing they were all fawning over what was yours had you feeling some sort of way. Your desk mate had been a big help in distracting you from the conversation behind you during the entire lecture. It was a group of girls just swooning over your boyfriend and you had to hold yourself back from saying something.

You heard your phone ringing a few times before it went to Zayne's voicemail. You frowned at seeing this, knowing damn well he had seen you in the lecture hall. Where could he have gone? You could ask around to find out where his current office was, but you would rather he just meet you and take you there himself. Sure he was hiding from his admirers, but it wouldn't kill him to answer your phone call.

You grumbled to yourself as you pocketed your phone, intent on just going back to your hotel and getting some much needed rest. You had impulsively come all the way here, knowing he was busy, but you still felt disappointed he couldn't spare you even a moment of his time.

You saw the girls from the lecture hall, one holding a small cake in her hands. They were discussing where Zayne's temporary office was and about how they wanted to invite him to a dance.

'Good luck, even I have trouble getting him to go to public events that involve dancing.' You couldn't help but think to yourself with a sad smile. Then you felt something, a small tug on your wrist.

Before you knew it, you were being pulled into a dark room by a strong hand. You spun around, about to yell at whoever decided this was a good idea when you bumped into the chest of none other than Doctor Zayne. His hand snaked around your waist and dragged you closer to his chest.

"Shhhh." He whispered, leaning closer to your ear. You heared footsteps right outside the door and then the giggling of those two girls from earlier come to light. There was a knock on the door as the girls began talking about the cake and dance once again.

You couldn't help but glare at the door, remembering everything they had said about Zayne earlier. Sure he was hot and granted, you talked to Tara about his amazing physic and looks all the time, but hearing strangers talking about his build and how hot he was had rubbed you wrong.

Then you recalled how Zayne had barely replied to your texts and how most of your calls went to voicemail when you attempted. The small, petty part of you bubbled up as you got on your toes to whisper in his ear.

"Perhaps you should let them in, Doctor Zayne. They seemed really eager to...get to know you during the lecture." You said, accentuating your words to let him know exactly what they wanted to know about him.

Zayne gave your waist a squeeze of assurance, grabbing your chin with his free hand so you were forced to look at his eyes, "Someone is already here. First come, first served." His voice was a bit huskier than you thought as he whispered those words to you.

You flushed at the thoughts running through your head. You could barely make out the girls giving up and leaving. The moment they were gone, Zayne seemed to sag in relief. He let go of you and backed away.

"You sure that was fine. She had made you a homemade cake and everything." You commented and Zayne huffed.

"I don't recall them ever mention making it themselves." He commented.

"Still, you sure do have a lot of people wanting to be your patient. Must be hard being this popular."

"One impulsive patient gives me more headaches than the other patients combined." He said, looking pointedly at you. You put your hands up in defense and giggled a bit.

"When have I ever been impulsive...other than right now?" The look he gave you said it all. You looked away from him, knowing damn well he could make an entire list just from the past three months of every impulsive decision you made.

You decided the best way to get him off your back was to change the topic. You looked around the office that was being lit up by the sun. It was a nicely set up room and you could see him getting used to the more cozy vibes of the place.

"No wonder you wanted to stay here for half a month, this place is pretty nice." You said as you began looking through the papers on his desk, grabbing one of them to pretend to read.

Zayne walked up behind you, snatching the paper from your hands and looking over what had stolen your attention, "I had wanted to leave early, but I suppose I don't need to now."

"Oh, why is that? Are you being spoiled by all the events here? I heard there's a dance going on tonight. I bet you're dying to go. You also have the pick of the litter when it comes to cute girls to go with you, if the lecture hall was anything to go off of." Ah, your jealousy had reared its ugly head again.

"I think someone else is spoiled. Someone barely sat down before getting hit on by a young man." He pointed out and you couldn't help but smile. At least you weren't alone in your jealousy.

You pulled the papers down and looked up at him from behind them, "Well I did miss part of the lecture with how much those girls were talking about you. Perhaps I should find that cute boy and ask him for his notes..."

Zayne pulled the paper back and you hum, "Are you...upset?" You finally asked with a sly smile.

"Should I be?"

"Probably not, but who am I to control your emotions?" You said, still grinning from ear to ear.

You heard Zayne sigh as he finally placed the papers down. His hands went back to your waist, pulling you closer to him again. You basked in his warmth, and how his large hand felt on the small of your back. You looked up at him, waiting patiently for him to speak.

"Are you actually here because you're interested in medical knowledge?" He knew damn well you weren't.

"Actually I'm here for a check up with my doctor." You coyly said, squeezing your hands around the lapels of his lab coat that hung open.

"There are a lot of hospitals in Linkon. To go out of your way to see me, you must have put in a lot of time and effort." He said as one of his hands went to cup your own, giving it a small squeeze in response.

"Well that's because you're the cause and cure for my ailments."

Zayne actually let out a small huff of amusement, "Please do enlighten me as to how I'm the cause and cure?"

"Well first my heart hurt when you weren't with me over in Linkon, and it felt strange when you didn't answer my calls or took too long to reply to my messages." You said, using the hand that wasn't trapped in his and playing with the fabric it was grasping.

"Then earlier when those girls were talking about you, I felt all yucky inside." You admitted as you leaned your body into him. You felt him sigh into your touch as you rested your head on his chest.

"Then how can I be of assistance to you and your ailments?" He whispered, squeezing your hand and rocking a bit in place with you in his arms.

"Have you had similar symptoms, Doctor Zayne?" You said, your voice coming out softly as you enjoyed this moment.

"Yes, I have. It's been rather inconvenient. I almost flew back to Linkon early to find the cause of my problems." He said and you chuckled.

"Well since I'm here now, how about I give you a small check up and make sure you're doing better now that I'm here." You suggested, parting from him for a moment.

You watched him raise an eyebrow and smirk a bit before speaking, "And how do you intend to do that?"

It wasn't hard to figure it out for you. You playfully nudge him until he fell on the desk. You fell with him, still being in close proximity. Your hands rested on his chest and it was your turn to smirk down at him. Zayne opened his legs just a bit so you could comfortably slot yourself between them.

You go and take the stethoscope from around his neck and put it around your own, "We'll have to start with checking your heart." You comment, placing the ear pieces in and placing the metal bit over Zayne's chest.

"And what do you hear?" He asked and you let out a small hum. You didn't actually know how to do this, but you did know that the sound was too faint for you to get a proper read.

"Your shirt is too thick, you'll need to remove it for me to properly hear you." You deduce, going to undo the neck straps of his shirt. Your hands slowly worked on the buttons; by the time you were working on the button near his stomach, his hand came to capture your own.

"Might I ask what game you're playing at?" He asked, knowing you were up to no good at this point. You bit your lip and shuffled a bit, unintentionally grinding your body against Zayne.

"I assure you, sir, this is all part of the check up." You lied and he sighed, letting go of your hand. You could see his gaze going over towards the door and you shook your head.

"The lights are off, so as long as we're not too loud, nobody will even know we're inside." You promised him. Zayne just sighed at your antics and went back to relaxing on his forearms as you worked his shirt off.

Once the shirt was unbuttoned, you slid it off his form and watched the fabric pool around his elbows. He was always breathtaking, but sometimes you forget just how well built he was. He did put a lot of effort into his personal health, fitness included.

Your hands twitched, wanting to just glide them across the expanse of his chest, but you just grabbed the metal piece of the stethoscope and put it back on him. You could hear the thrumming of his heart a lot better like this.

"Your heartrate is a bit faster than normal." You commented, running the cool metal over his chest, making sure it gently grazed one of his nipples. He grunted a bit as he shifted underneath you.

"Certain activities or scenarios can accelerate one's heartrate, as I'm sure you know, doctor." He pointed out, making you smirk in response.

"Is that so? Perhaps we should double check that it's the scenario that's making your heart accelerate, and not other factors." You said, one hand still pressing the metal bit on him while the other slowly trailed down him chest.

Your hands gently grazed the fine hairs leading down into his pants. You wanted desperately to lean down and bite the skin near his Adonis belt but managed to reel yourself in. Instead your hand grazed the front of his pants. You felt his cock twitch underneath your touch and his heart began beating faster.

"Well, it looks like your theory was correct. This scenario is making your heart act up. I wonder why that is...?" You said, squeezing him through his pants. Zayne's breath hitched as he rolled his hips into your touch.

"And what would you prescribe for a treatment plan, doctor?" He said, enjoying the way your hand slowly teased him.

"I think you might be stressed from your trip. Perhaps I can provide a bit of relief for you." You prescribed. You met his gaze for a moment and could see just how dark his eyes had gotten, his breathing coming out in soft pants from this little stimulus. You guessed he really did miss you if he was already falling apart in your hands.

You slowly sink to your knees, nudging his legs to open a bit more. Your hand trailing over the zipper of his pants as you then got the idea to reach up. Your mouth caught the cold metal and slowly slid it down before going to push his pants down.

You noticed his gaze went back to the door again, and you couldn't help but pinch at his thighs, "It's fine, nobody is going to just barge into a doctor's office."

You finally managed to get his cock free, noticing how it was already dripping precum. You let out a small groan at the sight, licking your lips before leaning in and kissing the base, your hand wrapping around it and giving it a few short tugs.

Zayne's hands clutched at the end of the desk and you swore if he wasn't careful, the wood might splinter under his grasp. Still, seeing his flushed face and open mouth was doing things to you. You felt like you were already dripping from the sight of the man.

You licked the tip of his cock, groaning at the taste of his salty precum. The taste of him was never bad, and it was uniquely Zayne and you could never get enough of it. This sight, the sounds he was making, it was for your eyes and ears only and the thought had you almost creaming your pants.

You finally open your mouth, taking his cock in and feeling the heavy weight of it against your tongue. You groaned at the sensation, slowly bobbing your head on him. Your hand wrapped around what you couldn't fit into your mouth, making sure all of him was feeling you in some way.

Your tongue glided, pressing against the veins on the underside of his dick as you worked him. He was panting from your mouth, his hand going to push your hair out of your face so he could get a better look at you. You looked up at him, mouth full of his length and you moaned at the half lidded expression he was giving you.

Zayne had bit down on his lip to keep his voice down, but seeing you bobbing on his cock was testing his restraint. He wanted to buck his hips into your mouth, watch you choke on his cock as your eyes teared up from trying to take all of him. He held back though, not knowing what you wanted in today's little tryst.

His cock began twitching in your mouth, signaling he was close to spilling down your throat. Suddenly you two heard footsteps approaching the door and you paused, mouth still on him as you listened to what was going on.

There was another knock on the door, followed by voices, "I double checked, this is his office." One of the girl's voices filtered through the door.

"Do you think he already left for the day?" The other girl said and you glared in the direction of the voices. You slowly slid your tongue around his sensitive length, enjoying how he seemed to jolt at feeling you moving on him again.

"Maybe we can just leave the cake inside?" Zayne's grip on your hair tightened at that. You just glared up at him now, relaxing your throat as you slid him deeper in your throat. Let them come in. Let them see that you, and only you could make the Doctor Zayne act like this in a public space.

Zayne had to bite back a groan as you continued trying to get him to cum while those girls debating walking in. He was glaring at you then nervously glancing up at the door.

"We can't just go into his office though, he might have sensitive documents in there. We could get in trouble." The second girl finally said, and you heard the other sigh.

"You're right...I'll just try again tomorrow." The first girl said.

Good luck, if you had any say about it, Zayne would be spending the day in your bed, making you see stars all day.

You heard them leaving the door before you finally popped your mouth off his cock, using your spit as lube as you continued stroking him. A bit of his precum snapping away from your lips as you looked up at Zayne.

"That wasn't funny." Zayne finally said, but the flush on his cheeks and chest were saying something else. Not to mention how his cock was still twitching in your hands.

"Perhaps we should continue this when we have a bit more privacy, like at the hotel." He said, cupping your hand and taking it off him. You let out a pitiful whine as you pouted.

You stood up and caged him in with your arms. You happily leaned into him, capturing his mouth with your own and nibbling on his lower lip. He easily opened up for you, and your hand went to cup his cheek as you deepen the kiss, loving the way he tasted against your tongue.

He groaned into your mouth, making your thighs squeeze together. You could feel just how wet you were by standing in front of him, and you wanted to make it known.

"We can just lock the door, but Zayne I won't be able to make it back to the hotel like this." You said against his mouth, giving his jaw and neck a few kisses. You undo your pants, unzipping it and pushing it down slightly then you grabbed his hand.

You move it over your underwear and groan when his fingers pressed against your clothed folds, "See, I'm soaking already just from having your cock in my mouth. Please, Zayne?" You begged, wanting him to ruin you in this office.

Zayne pressed harder against your cunt, making your hips roll against his hand, "Fine, lock the door. We need to remain quiet though." He still had his reputation and he couldn't go tarnishing it, no matter how tempting you were.

You smiled and parted from him, fast walking to the door and locking it up. You backed away from the door, only to be met with a solid chest. You looked up, seeing Zayne had already moved behind you. His large hands moving under your shirt and squeezing your hips, pulling you flush to his pelvis where you could feel his cock against your back.

Zayne began to slowly take off your shirt, tossing it to the side and unhooking your bra without hesitation. He went to cup one of your breasts, squeezing it and making you groan, pressing further into him so you could feel his cock rutting against you.

"Fuck, Zayne please." You pleaded, looking up at him with want. He cursed under his breath, pulling apart just enough to spin you around. Effortlessly, he picked you up and began making his way over to the desk. He scattered the rest of the papers to the floor and placed you on top.

"You're going to be the death of me." He murmured against your neck, leaving soft kisses all over as his hands begin working on pulling your pants and underwear down. You helped him by raising your hips until he could toss them to the ground with your growing pile of clothes. He placed your underwear next to you on the desk, probably intent on pocketing them after this.

Zayne spread your legs open some more so he could run a finger along your slick pussy. You sighed in relief at feeling his finger pressing into your heat without any hesitation. You were already so wet he easily slid a second, his thumb going to glide against your clit.

"Zayne, please I want to feel you inside me already." You whisper-whined into his ear. He smirked, looking up at you as his fingers curled inside of you, making you gasp and roll your hips into his waiting hand.

"Am I not already inside you?" He teased, pressing down on your clit for a moment to accentuate his point before rolling it in circles.

"You know what I mean." You whined again and he tsked.

"You'll have to be more specific, love. What do you want inside this tight cunt of yours?" He asked and you clenched around his digits at those words. Your legs were already shaking as you felt your orgasm building up.

"I want your cock inside of me, Zayne." You whimpered, feeling how he was slowly stretching you out with his fingers. A third was prodding at your entrance and you opened your legs a bit more for him.

You heard Zayne shushing you as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, "I'll give it to you once you cum on my fingers. Can you do that, love? I don't want to hurt you." He said, knowing just how big his cock was.

You groaned at the thought, knowing you were teetering towards the edge. Feeling his mouth pressing gentle kisses along your jaw and nipping at your earlobe was what did you in. You gasped and immediately his mouth was on yours, swallowing all your cries. Your orgasm crashing down on you as you tightened around his fingers, sucking them in.

Your hands finding his biceps, nails digging in as you fought to keep your noises to a minimum as your hips rolled in time with him. Once you were coming down you were panting against his mouth, feeling breathless.

You felt his fingers leave your cunt and you whined at the loss. You watched as he moved his fingers over to his mouth, licking your essence off of them. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment before turning back to you sharply.

"I'll have to properly taste you later tonight, but for now I need to be inside you." Zayne said, squeezing your thighs as he begins lining himself up with you.

You still felt sensitive, so the moment the tip of his cock was pressing into you, your head was thrown back. You couldn't help the mewl leaving you as he began sinking into you, inch by inch. He was always huge and felt like he was splitting you in two anytime you fucked.

Your nails grazed his biceps again, grounding yourself as he continued slipping in until he was a little past halfway inside of you. He stopped, going to press his forehead against your own. Your breaths mingling with one another as you gazed up at him through half lidded eyes.

"Zayne, please fuck me with your whole cock, please." You begged, rolling your hips in an attempt to take more of him inside of you. His hold went to your hips, keeping you still as he looked at you, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"If I do, will you be able to walk out of here when we're done?" He asked and you huffed, trying to rock your hips into him again. He wasn't letting up though, waiting for your answer.

You finally whine, "I promise, just please Zayne, I need you." You were begging. This seemed to be enough of an answer with his self control slipping by the second.

He began pushing his cock back into you until you were flush to his pelvis. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you felt like you could cum just by having him seated inside of you. His cock pressed against every sensitive spot inside of you and it always drove you crazy.

You swore you'd be split in two though, but at the moment you didn't care. You slowly looked down at Zayne who was panting with his eyes closed, stopping himself from fucking into you like an animal. You didn't even realize tears had formed in your eyes until he looked at you and leaned in, kissing them away.

His hands rubbed at your hips gently as you adjusted until he snuck one over and pressed down on your clit. He rolled it in gentle circles and you gasped, feeling your second orgasm crashing over you suddenly. Your eyes widening and you opened your mouth in a silent scream.

He then decided to give an experimental thrust, making you gasp. Your entire body felt like a live wire as your legs locked around his torso, holding him in place as he bucked into your heat again.

"You need to be quiet, remember?" He reminded you, his hips finally starting a steady rhythm of fucking up into you. Despite his warnings, you couldn't help the whimpers coming out of you, feeling his girth every time he thrusted back into you.

You heard Zayne sigh as he looked at you, giving you a small smirk. You looked on, dazed and a bit confused as to why he had that look on his face. That was until you felt the press of fabric against your lips.

"Open up, if you can't remain quiet I have no choice but to gag you." He said and you groaned, opening your mouth and taking your underwear into your mouth. He pressed it down into your mouth, making you mewl around the fabric. You could taste yourself on it and it made your body heat up.

"Tap my arm twice if it becomes too much, alright?" All you could do was nod in confirmation before he began a harder and faster pace. Your eyes widened, your nails digging into his skin.

He leaned his forehead against your own as he fucked you, the intimacy only making your head buzz wonderfully. Your legs shook around his body and your pussy was sucking him in, tightening on occasion whenever you heard him grunt or praise you.

You swore if you died by his dick, you'd be welcomed into Valhalla as a hero. It was everything you could ever hope for, and knowing when he fucked you it was full of emotion made it even better. You felt so in love as your body began tingling, your third orgasm approaching already.

Your cunt fluttered around his dock, making him grunt as it made it almost impossible for him to move, "If you keep that up, I won't last much longer." He said, thrusting shallowly into you until he could move freely again. You groaned behind the fabric, your head rolling back as the tension in your abdomen finally snapped.

"That's it, cum for me, love." He said, fucking you through your orgasm. You felt the tears welling up in your eyes from the stimulation, your body feeling light and your vision almost going white from the intensity. Every thrust of his hips grazing your clit and prolonging your pleasure until it was getting to be too much.

You heard Zayne groaning against your neck, his hand reaching up and taking our your gag. "Where do you want me to - fuck - where can I cum, bunny?" He asked and you flushed.

Your tongue felt heavy in your own mouth as you tried to coherently speak. All you managed was a small "Inside", but it was enough for him.

You heard him hiss against your ear, his thrusts becoming shallow again. Then you felt his cock twitching, and the warmth of his release filling you up. It was all too much as you whimpered against him, arms going around his shoulders and squeezing him closer until you could burry your face into his neck.

He moved your face so he could kiss you, it was sloppy but it was just what you needed as you swallowed every needy groan from him as he finished, his hips rolling languidly against you until finally stopping.

It was silent in the room, the sound of skin-on-skin slapping finally stopping. You two basked in the afterglow for a moment; you stared at the ceiling and trying to come back to reality. You truly felt boneless right now, and maybe even a bit brainless.

You whimpered as Zayne finally begins pulling out of you, the wet squelching noise making you flush in embarrassment. You looked between your legs and watched as your combined release slowly leaked out onto the desk.

"I'll need to find something to clean us up with." He finally murmured and you let out a hum. Honestly you just wanted to lay in his arms, the thought of after care not even crossing your mind in the moment.

Your legs were shaking still and you felt something brushing up against your folds. You looked down to see him with some tissue, wiping away what he could.

"I promise once we get back to the hotel I'll run us a nice, warm bath." He promised, leaning over and kissing your forehead, "Bear with this for just a little."

You smiled, grabbing his by the back of his neck and guiding him to give you a proper kiss, melting against his lips once again. Once you part you couldn't help but mutter a small "Thank you." to him.

He paused as he admired you, his eyes filled with love and you felt almost sheepish under such an intense gaze, "Will you be able to walk?" He asked finally.

You take a moment, shifting your legs and wincing at the soreness. You'd probably be able to walk out of here, but not without a limp, "I think I'll be fine." You finally muttered.

Zayne let out a small, amused huff as his large hands began massaging your inner thighs, "If need be, I can carry you out of here. We can say you slipped." The thought was funny to you, making you snicker. As if a place filled with doctors and medical supplies would buy that story.

You leaned in and kissed his cheek, "So did my treatment plan work for you?" You finally asked.

Zayne took a moment before smirking, "I think I might need another dose when we get back to the hotel...if you're up for it."

Despite the soreness from between your legs, you felt yourself clenching at the thought, "Ya, I think a second treatment might be necessary."

[phyrestartr]

Icarus Drabbles (Pt.3) | Sukuna x M!Reader

W/C: 3k #NSFW, Modern AU, ABO dynamics, bottom!reader, top!sukuna, Mob Boss!Sukuna, Alpha!Sukuna, Street Doctor!Reader, Omega!Reader, toxic relationships, age gap, sukuna is mid 30s, yuuji gang and reader are mid 20s, sukuna and yuuji are brothers, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, blowies are received and given, mentions of character death

tags: @kamote-kuneho @prettorett @better-imagination-9 @flowersatwork @tr4nniez

Done Deal

“You let me fuck you, and I'll give you anything you want.” That was his proposition. No more flirting, no more attempts to seduce you, just his obsessive pining resulting in a deal. 

But you didn't seem too bothered sitting across the desk from none other than Ryoumen Sukuna, who lounged comfortably, puffing on a cigar like he didn't just offer to pay you for sex. Granted, it wasn't just the sex he wanted. It was more than that. 

You took a moment before speaking. “I thought you were the kind of guy who'd take without asking.” 

“Who, me? Come on, sweetheart, I'm a gentleman.” Sukuna grinned and watched you wave the coils of smoke out of your face. 

You looked him over, not betraying your thoughts. “And if I refuse?” 

Sukuna's smile simmered down, unamused with the mere concept of rejection. “I'll still get what I want. And you'll leave here penniless.” His men locked the doors loudly at the other end of the vast office, making their point. “So? What’ll it be?” 

You took a slow breath. “I want a condo. In Tokyo.” 

“That's it?” 

“Paid in full.” 

“Now you’re talkin'.” 

You stood from your chair and walked around the desk as you unzipped your jacket. “And my name's going on title.” 

Sukuna undressed you with his eyes like the millions of times he'd done so prior. “Ho? You wanna be the one to pay all the taxes, huh?” He turned his chair to you as you approached. Sukuna spread his legs wider to make room for you to stand between, but you instead boldly straddled his lap. He knew he liked you for a reason. 

“I can forward them to you.”

“You think I'll pay them?” One of his broad palms groped at your ass. His stomach coiled with excitement; he was going to enjoy ripping you apart. 

“I know you will,” you hummed. Sweetly, you tilted Sukuna's chin up to get a good look at his handsome face. 

“Oh?” 

“Mhm.”

“‘N why's that?” Sukuna whispered. 

“Because you want to.” Your hands slipped down his neck, down to his shoulders. “Because you think I'll come back for more.”

“I know you'll come back for more.” 

“If you live long enough,” you sighed before plucking the cigar from his fingers and snuffing it out. “These things'll kill you, you know.” 

Sukuna fucked you on his desk moments after. His men stayed in the room all the while, watching and shifting with unease or simmering urges of his own. He vaguely recalled taking a phone call, too. 

So how the hell did we end up here? He had to wonder; back then, he bribed you for your affection, paid you handsomely but purposefully left you wanting more and more and more. He wanted to provide for you, in a weird, twisted way, and that was his method since, well, he wasn't ever sure he'd really get you to stay. 

Yet there he was, waking up in a house with his husband next to him and his daughter in the crib beside you. It felt so…bizarrely natural. Normal. Almost like he met a need he didn't even know he had. 

He hardly spent his nights at his casino, Malevolent Shrine, any longer. He didn't wander the floors looking for liars and easy targets for his dealers. He didn't head up to his penthouse at the crack of dawn with a new dame on his arm every night; he wanted to come here, to the home he had built to house his new family. Sukuna wanted to collapse into this bed, hear you bitch and moan about Gojo or Geto or whatever idiot employed you that day, spend time with his little pup and listen to her yip and babble about nothing and everything. He wanted these moments. He wanted to cherish the little sparks of light in his life before the universe snuffed them out like– 

Gramps is dead, Yuuji had said, voice quivering on the other end of the line. What do we do? 

Sukuna closed his eyes and rubbed his face, willing away the memory. He hadn't had to act like a big brother in so long, but the instinct came rushing back to him the second he heard his little brother in tears. It was all handled swiftly, everything from the cremation, to probate, to settling the estate–but the weight of death and finality clung to the air like petrichor after a storm. 

Sukuna looked to your sleeping face for respite. It helped to see you, to be reminded that you'd chosen to stay with him through thick and thin. Still, he couldn't help but remember what his grandfather asked him the day he met Touka. 

Where does this end, kid? 

This. The gang life. The life that's too unrefined and brutal to be considered yakuza. Because Sukuna didn't deal in honour. He dealt in violence, drugs and money–that voice spoke louder than honour and family. 

But didn't he reclaim his family? Didn't he honour you with change? 

Where does this end, kid?

Maybe with honour and family. 

“I can feel you having a crisis,” your scratchy voice mumbled through the static in Sukuna's mind. Your eyes opened a crack to find his own crimson set before you wriggled up to him and half-laid on his chest. “What's wrong?”

“Your bony-ass chin’s digging into my tit.” 

“Mmmh.” 

“You like money more, or me?” He asked. 

You snorted. “I like you and your money equally.” You let your head loll to the side to press your cheek against his chest. “But I like you more, I guess.” 

“You guess?” 

“I'm kidding, idiot. If I cared about money, I would've married into the Zenin family.” You sat up and looked down at your partner with bleary eyes. “Where's this coming from anyway?”

Sukuna huffed and scowled at the ceiling. “Nowhere. It's nothing. Forget it.” 

“Don't be a little bitch. Just tell me.” And when he didn't budge, you added, “Suku. Come on.” And when he still refused to cooperate, you resorted to, “Alpha, please?” 

His eyes snapped to you so fucking fast it made his face burst into flames. You grinned, so stupidly enthralled and in love with how the gross, domestic pet name fucked him up and--fucking hell, it was so cute but so annoying. 

“Fuck you.” 

“N'awe, you're such a cutie sometimes.” You purred in delight and nuzzled all over his face. “My cute, sweet, broody alpha that I love so, so, so much.” 

“Shut up,” he snarled before viciously nuzzling back and attacking you with puppy nips and rude licks to your face. “Fucking omega. You're such a pain in the ass, you know that?” 

“So are you. That's why we work well together, right?” You held his face still and planted a proper kiss on his lips. “We'll be fine. No matter what happens.” 

Your alpha took a deep breath while he looked up at you, and sighed. You looked so calm and collected about the whole thing, so relaxed in the jaws of a shark that could eat you whole and leave nothing behind. Guess that was why he was so enamored with you. Only petty things, like the shitty little fish that nipped at toes, wore you down. Not the big, bad, unknown depths of the ocean. 

“You believe me?” You asked as you pinched his nose. 

Sukuna grimaced and tugged your hand away from his nose. “Fuckin’–yeah, I believe you.” He bit your fingers in revenge. 

It was your turn to make a face. “Disgusting.” 

“You wuv id,” Sukuna managed around your digits, grinning like an idiot. 

“I have bad taste in men.” You yanked your fingers free when you heard your little one coo and shuffle in her crib. Sukuna always found himself impressed with how fast your omega responded to the littlest of noises, always automatically cooing and trilling back to your baby like you'd done it your whole life. 

“But you sure you're alright?” You asked as you scooped up the little one. 

Sukuna sat up and leaned back against the headboard as you settled down beside him again. “‘M fine. Just…thinking.” 

“About your grandfather?” 

“Guess so.” 

You nodded and leaned into him, chest purring with comfortable vibrato as his heavy arm looped around you and pulled you close. 

“He was a good man. Lived a good life. Long one, too.” 

“Guess you’re not wrong. Don’t seem too torn up about it,” Sukuna grumbled, vaguely aware he was on the precipice of starting an early-morning argument. 

“People die,” you said, looking down at your babe. “He was old as fuck. I’d talked to him about life and death a thousand times anyway. His point of view on things helped me see things differently.”

“Oh?” Sukuna’s attention snapped down to your little one as her cherry-red eyes sleepily blinked open. “‘N what the hell did the old fart tell you, huh?” 

You smiled as Touka screeched happily, reaching up for her father and wiggling around in your lap until she could slug her way over to him (with much help from your guiding hands, of course). Sukuna, the fraidy cat that he was, awkwardly tried to aid his baby girl with crawling onto his lap, too. You kind of understood why–his hand was about as big as her body. He was probably afraid of smooshing her. 

“He told me energy can never be destroyed. It can only change shape and form. It’s the same with our souls.” 

“The fuck does that mean?” Sukuna grumbled as his daughter determinedly tried to stand to reach his face. You moved to help her stand, but he huffed and took over, uttering a grumpy ‘I got it’ as he carefully, carefully held her up onto her feet like one would a kitten. 

You smiled, so horribly smitten. “It means our bodies die, but our spirits can’t. They just change form before coming back and living life all over again.” 

“Hmph. Sounds stupid as–” Sukuna paused as a tiny hand landed on his mouth. 

“Bah!” Touka chirped. 

You pursed your lips and melted into your partner, a happy, summer scent pooling around the three of you. 

“Mhm, daddy’s a cranky little bitch, huh, baby?” 

“Big bitch,” Sukuna corrected, words muffled by the tiny overlord. He opened his mouth wide, lightly chomping on her pudgy little hand with the gentlest pibble nibbles he could manage. Judging by her squealing laughter, he was doing an okay job.

“Cranky big bitch–my bad.” You rolled your eyes and exhaled deeply. “But yeah, that’s basically it. Mentioned some stuff about soulmates–platonic or romantic or otherwise–tending to find each other in their next lives too. So, technically, you could be holding your grandfather reincarnated right now–”

“Babe, don’t make this fucking weird,” Your husband groaned. 

You laughed, loud and brash, before nuzzling him. “Sorry, sorry. Can’t help myself.” 

Sukuna scoffed, furrowed brow only easing as Touka assaulted him with little pats all over his face. 

“You’re a nightmare.” He leaned in and nuzzled his baby’s round cheeks with playful growls. “You’re a smaller fucking nightmare. Spitting image of your mum. How the fuck is that fair, huh?” 

“Well, you better get used to it,” you taunted. “She’s the only one you’re getting.”

Wait. What?

--

Devour

It’d been a while since Sukuna had handled an interrogation. He’d stepped away from doing it himself when you’d both gotten back together officially, thinking you’d be upset if you found out he was still beating the fuck out of rats and cheats wandering through his casino–but the opposite turned out to be true. 

You didn’t really care. You didn’t mind it at all, actually. You only requested he kept that sort of business away from the curious gaze of the little girl you both doted on incessantly. 

So, he took it to the basement of Malevolent Shrine. 

“Y'know, I really needed this,” Sukuna sighed, loosening his tie a bit more before he leaned against the table of lethal instruments and wiped the blood from his split knuckles. “Kid keeps me up all night. Wife's always bitching ‘bout being tired. ‘N then I got dipshits like you sneaking in, trying to access restricted floors.” 

The man he regarded scoffed, probably unable to catch his breath to clap back or, well, breathe. The sight had Sukuna grinning, pure delight and satisfaction coiling in his chest. 

“Got somethin’ to say?” 

The man coughed and tried to pull himself up from where he lay splayed on the floor. Sukuna never tied up his guests, no no, he always gave them a fair, fighting chance, stating they could go free if they could get past him. None ever did. 

“Y-you do this to that omega you stole?” The stranger managed as soon as he got on his knees. “Lock ‘im in a room, make them fight their way out?” 

Sukuna quirked a brow and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Only omega I've had in here is the wife.” 

“Bullshit,” he spat. “You stole one that was sold to my benefactor.” 

The mob boss sighed and scratched the back of his head. “That's what you're here for? An omega that I never had?” Sukuna pushed off the table. “Well, that makes shit boring. You're here on a delusion.” 

“It's not–”

“Then who do you work for?” 

As expected, the idiot clammed up. Sukuna tutted. Why did all these bastards have to play hard to get? 

Ah, but then he had an epiphany--hadn't you mentioned marrying into the Zenin family? You brought it up not too long ago, back when Sukuna first started spiraling about life and death, about where his world of chaos would take him in the end. 

If I cared about money, I would've married into the Zenin family. 

Right. That's what you said. 

“Zenin Naoya,” Sukuna guessed. The heir was a rampant misogynistic piece of shit, wanting nothing to do with women on any level--but you? A man who could bear children, albeit through difficult means? That'd be invaluable to someone like Naoya. He could have his cake and eat it too. 

And by the way the crook's body tensed, Sukuna figured he hit the nail on the head. 

“No shit. That little freak’s really outdoing himself this time.” Sukuna laughed wildly, enthralled that he managed to piss off the Zenin heir by taking his bitch and knocking him up. God, the damage this would do to Naoya's ego.

“I'll let ya in on a little secret,” Sukuna sang, turning to the table and grabbing a set of pliers. “I wifed up that omega. Knocked him up already. Hopin’ he'll let up on the ‘one pup only’ policy. He's been real fuckin’ strict on the birth control, lemme tell ya.” 

“He won't forgive this,” the crook bit out. “He won't just–” 

Thwack. Sukuna cracked him upside the head and knelt on his chest, jamming the tool into his mouth and breaking a few teeth on the way in. 

“Fucker can try,” Sukuna murmured, voice growing thick with malice. His ruby eyes gleamed with predatory promise. “Killing him's at the top of my bucket list.” 

–

You were definitely possessed. 

How could you not be? You'd just seen your baby daddy (your very cut, handsome, snarky baby daddy) beat the shit out of one of your tormentor's grunts 

“Babe,” Sukuna moaned as you swallowed him down your throat again. You'd taken him hostage in the elevator the second he was done his deeds downstairs. It proved to be…somewhat problematic as people continued to open the doors, but eventually Sukuna hit the emergency stop button, nearly shattering the console. 

You hummed around him, pressing your tongue against thick, pulsing veins and squeezing at his base and sacks intermittently while your head bobbed to the beat of whatever tinny jazz played in the elevator. You kind of liked the tune. It sparked the idea of playing music next time Sukuna bedded you–

Bedded you. Ah. That seemed like a good next step. 

You pulled back with a disgusting pop and fought to catch your breath between leaving wet kisses and hickeys along his stiff length. Your hand worked him firm and fast, eager to get him to fall apart under your feverish, hypnotic touch. 

And he was close. You could tell by the way his hand held the back of your head, fingernails digging into your scalp every time you did something so, so right and so, so unbelievably good for the big bad mob boss you'd tricked into staying faithful to you. You figured you'd reward him for being such a good boy. It's what he deserved for sacrificing his freedom for you, and, quite frankly, you thought you'd been slacking on the praise. 

“Gonna cum?” You hummed, looking up at your partner through wet lashes. “Hm?”

Sukuna groaned. His fangs bit into his lip as he stared down at you, pupils blown wide, eclipsing the red of his iris. 

You smiled politely. “Mmh. I'll take that as a yes.” You kissed along his skin until reaching his weeping tip and giving it a gentle peck. “Where do you want it? On my face? In my mouth? Down my throat?” 

He bucked forward, jamming his tip between your lips and hissing when he felt the scratch of teeth against him. You sighed like he was such a nuisance, and opened up wide again, whining as he gripped your hair up into a messy, shitty ponytail before fucking into your mouth with reckless abandon. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck–” His body shuddered and he slammed inside one more time, squeezing his thick knot into your strained mouth and locking it behind your teeth as he rutted against your face, spilling down your throat. 

Your soft gags and chokes only made it better. He pulled your head closer, pressing your cute nose against the hazy line of his happy trail in a dizzy attempt to ground himself through the aftershocks of such a sudden turn of events. Going from beating the shit out of a sniveling sod to this was–

Your frantic smacking against his arm signaled your tap out. Sukuna cursed under his breath and worked in tandem with you to wiggle free the stiff problem stuffing your mouth and throat full. 

You gasped for breath. Drool and tears poured down your face as you coughed and swallowed whatever didn't have the chance to slip out of your aching mouth, and you wiped your mouth half-heartedly with the back of your hand. Sukuna hadn't seen a sight like that in a long, long while. Something so reminiscent of the early days of being bribed and paid for your services. 

“Christ,” Sukuna breathed as he brushed your hair out of your pretty face. “How much do I owe ya for that, huh?” 

You laughed between coughs before kissing his clothed thigh. “Just don't think I've appreciated you enough lately, you know?” You cleaned him up best you could before tucking your man away and standing to loop your arms around his shoulders. 

Sukuna caught your scent then; you smelled sweeter than usual. Warmer, too. Fuller. Something that reminded him of dough in the oven, billowing all around him and filling his senses with sinful sweetness. 

Your heat was on the horizon.

Sukuna smirked and switched the key holding the elevator closed and inoperable on the ground floor, and it started on its journey up, up, up. Time to get you back in bed. 

“Not appreciatin’ me enough, huh. Well, I was gonna mention it–” 

“Shut up. Don't be stupid right now.” 

Sukuna's grin grew. He leaned down, leaving soft kisses and nips along your neck, being sure to pay special attention to the scars he'd left behind. 

“You love when I talk shit.”

“You're free to believe that.”

“Oh? Then tell me what you've been appreciating about me, sweetheart. I'm all ears.” 

The doors opened to the penthouse floor, and you fought to drag the other out first.

“Your ass,” you replied, nearly exploding inside as Sukuna kicked the (unlocked) door in. Damn, how come he could do that so easily? 

“What else?” Sukuna's lips found yours time after time as you both fumbled your way toward the bedroom. 

You yelped as he threw you onto the bed. “J-Jesus–how strong you are.” 

“Yeah?” Sukuna kicked his dress shoes off and yanked your kicks off, too, before you had a chance to complain about shoes being on in the house. “Tell me more.”

“That's about it.” A sweet laugh bubbled out of you as he slipped in between your legs and kissed you like this was some highschool romcom.

“Oh? Lying now, aren't we?” 

“I think I need to examine you a little to remember, you know?” 

With all the strength you could muster, you turned the tables and flipped Sukuna onto his back, straddling his waist and running your hands up and down his chest. He still couldn't tell how you did it, but you flicked open every button of his dress shirt with unfathomable finesse before tracing the dips and curves of his defined muscles with teasing fingertips. 

“Hmmm…this is nice,” you murmured, taking your time to drink in the scar-riddled expanse of glowing, bronze skin. You scooted back, down his legs, to be able to plant soft kisses around his navel. 

Sukuna watched you with blown-out eyes; you were always good at teasing, at making sex electric and better than just cramming his cock into a hole. Secretly, he liked being pushed to the brink of insanity. Soft touches, whispered kisses, silent praise–it was all so your brand.

“What else?” Sukuna rasped as you left cheeky marks around his happy trail. 

“Hm. I wonder.” You took your time sidling up on his lap again, your hands taking charge and leading you up, up, up to his cut jawline and striking cheekbones. “This is nice, too.”

Sukuna licked his lips. “Yeah?” He Asked as he held your waist. 

“Mhm.” Your thumb stroked against his bottom lip thoughtfully before hooking inside and yanking his mouth open like a fish on a line. “This is a problem, though.” 

Your mate's heart thrummed like thunder. Rarely would he ever admit to liking being used, but when it came to you, his precious little trophy, Sukuna found himself far too eager to please. Too eager to consume. Too eager to be consumed. He could only hope you'd wreck him with whatever you wanted to do with that mouth of his. 

“Oh?” Sukuna breathed. Christ, his slacks were too fucking tight again. “The fuck you gonna do about it?” 

You sighed and shook your head. “God's work, I guess.” And you almost seemed burdened by what you ‘had to do’ as you loosened your waistband and wriggled up until you were straddling his broad chest with your weeping tip pressing against his lips. 

Sukuna grinned. “You think I'm gonna–” but he was more prepared for your rude push into his mouth than he let on–or he thought he was, anyway. He'd never really given head before, not really, but he'd given you a couple of handjobs in the past. Still, you were bigger than he remembered. Not as comically, ridiculously, stupidly big as Sukuna’s third leg, but you could probably stuff someone to the point of tears if you really felt the need. 

And, well, you were leaving tears in Sukuna's eyes, so theory confirmed.

“You're really bad at this,” you laughed. You held onto the headboard as you pushed into his mouth, letting him get used to it and adjust as a good mate should (maybe Sukuna should've taken notes). Thankfully, the man was a quick learner and a keener. He got used to the feeling of your length nudging against his throat, and posed himself a challenge to push it further. 

His hand grabbed at your ass and he pulled you closer, drowning in the sound of your warbled gasp mixing with a surprised yelp. Sukuna's other hand brute-forced his slacks open and fisted around his pulsing hard-on to the rhythm of your greedy thrusts into his mouth, down his tight, inexperienced throat. 

Your hips jolted and stuttered. Your hips stayed plastered to his face with weaker and weaker thrusts. Your forehead clunked against the rim of the headboard as your breathing got faster and faster, laced with tiny ah-ah-ah-s until–until–

“Shit–” you tried to pull away from him, tried to save him the grief of having to swallow down a load of cum (first time was always a terrible, terrible experience), but he wouldn't let you yank your hips away; his broad palm pressed against the small of your back and forced you flush against him, his nose pressing against skin as he swallowed and moaned around you like he'd been deepthroating cock his whole career. 

Somewhere in the haze of lightning and sparks, you felt him shudder and jolt under you, too. Then, like you'd done not so long ago, a swift tapping on your leg signaling, tap out, tap out! 

“Oh–fuck, sorry,” you babbled, hurriedly pulling yourself back and out of his mouth to let him breathe. “You're kind of a natural. I'm shocked.”

Sukuna was too busy coughing and fighting to catch his breath to snap back at you, though, and you couldn't help but laugh. 

“Shut it,” he scolded with a swift spank. “Spunk tastes like shit.” 

“But you’re not a spitter nor a quitter. You should be proud.” You smiled like the cheeky little shit you were before shimmying off your joggers and tossing them aside. “You did pretty well. Colour me impressed.”

“‘Course I did, who the fuck do you think I am?” He brought his other hand out of his pants and held them up to you, sticky with his own spend. “Deal with this.”

You whistled, and the heat in your face increased tenfold. “I guess you liked it. Good to know,” you said before holding his hand by the wrist and licking up.

“I'd be a freak if I didn't wanna make my bitch cum. ‘Specially when he's in heat ‘n primed to reopen the baby-making factory.” 

You looked at him, eyes round and owlish, before abandoning the mess on his hand in favour of kissing him. 

“The factory's open,” you assured, no doubt temporarily hypnotized by your body's desire to make your stupid alpha happy.

Sukuna rumbled a purr deep in his chest as he smirked. He'd gladly seize the moment.

“Let’s clock in and get to work, then.” 

–

Five is Better Than Three

Sukuna paced back and forth outside the bathroom door, impatient and anxious, waiting for you to just fucking tell me what the hell the deal was.

But Sukuna was anything but a patient man.

“Babe,” he growled, knocking on the door incessantly. “How long does It take to piss on a stick?” 

You scoffed. “I'm just--I'm trying to double check, you dumb bitch, shut up.” Your voice quivered the slightest bit, a soft sniffle or two barely making it above the radar. 

Sukuna sucked his teeth. He ran his hands through his hair and growled to himself, trying trying trying to stay patient, stay calm, stay–

“Sukuna,” you snapped when the door flung open. You were standing at the counter, an array of different pregnancy tests laid out before you neatly with you lording over them, face hot and eyes shimmering with…grief? Relief? Happiness? Sukuna didn't know, he didn't know. 

“Kept me waiting long enough, you fucking brat,” he came up behind you and stared down, clearing your noggin with ease and ignoring your grouchy quips and pinches. 

“I was–I just needed a minute, you stupid fuck, I'm--it's a lot!” You tried to push him away but, well, the man was an immovable object, and you were far from an unstoppable force. In the realm of physicality, at least. 

“Sukuna–” 

“This shit is like hieroglyphics,” he complained, picking up a test and squinting at it. His other hand held your waist to stop you from running away to hide. 

“It, uh. It means–well, I still need to get checked out officially but, uh, y'know. It's a yes. For now. Tentatively. All the tests are positive.” 

Sukuna exploded with happy puppy scent. He threw down the test and wrapped his arms around you, picking your smaller form up and swinging you around like a shotty romcom man should. 

And you laughed through your tears. You hugged him back once he put you down, and exploded into choked laugh-sobs as you pressed your face into his chest. His nice, strong, muscular chest that looked so good in that black tank top. 

“Oi, oi, what're the damn waterworks for, huh?” Sukuna asked through a wolfish grin. 

“I don't know, okay, just shut up.” You snuffled a few more times before sighing. “Maybe I'm just relieved that an old man like you still has a sperm count.”

“Hah. Big talk from a whore usin’ birth control and making me use a fucking condom ‘just in case.’” He nuzzled at your neck and purred deep in his chest. “Even then, my goods slipped through the cracks, huh? Doubt even getting your tubes tied could stop me from knockin’ your pretty little ass up, sweetheart.” 

You bit his tit while he cackled like a madman. “You're fucking gross and I hate you.” 

“N'awe. Would creaming on my cock make you feel better?” 

“No. Well, maybe later. But coffee and breakfast might subdue me right now.”

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally Getting Help (prt. 10)

Mastterpost

A/N: Thank you all for the well wishes about my dog. Unfortunately he didn't make it and pass away Tuesday morning in the vet's office. I was able to get some writing done but I don't have the energy to edit. Let me know if you find any mistakes.

-----

Jason: hey, thanks for the gun and the tech, it's really cool.

Danny: new phone who dis 😝

Jason: I hope you haven't given too many people guns in the last couple days.

Danny: no I haven't, thanks for texting me Jason. Have you got a chance to try the gun?

Jason: not on anything moving, I've been doing some target practice to get a feel for it though. Looking forward to when I can test it on Vlad.

Danny: aww are you going to avenge my honor 🥺

Jason: if you want me too. I'll bring you his head if you want me too.

Danny: 🥰 you're so sweet. I wouldn't say no to seeing him suffer for what he's done but don't get yourself in any trouble okay? And if you do call me right away. I'll come rescue you 😘

Jason: hey I'm the one offering to protect you! 

Danny: we can protect each other. And fight each other, can you come spar again soon?

Jason: I wouldn't call that sparring, more like brawling.

Danny: eh potato potato, do you want to come fight me again?

Jason: if demon brat won't kill me for it, sure. Can I take you out for dinner afterwards? I have some questions

Danny: It's a date! Just tell me when

Jason: Day after tomorrow? I have some work to take care of first.

Danny: Sounds great! And it is a date right? You don't mind that I'm going to have kids?

Jason: the kids aren't a deal breaker I promise but let's not jump the gun okay? We're going to be family through B so we don't want this to blow up in our faces. Let's hang out, take it slow, see how it goes. You need to be careful about who you let into your life now anyway, you can't just let anyone around you and the babies.

Danny: don't tell me what to do 😠 but you're right. I'm bad about rushing into things. I'm still looking forward to it.

Danny: By the way Jazz uploaded the power point she made about Liminals and Ghosts to the bat’s server thing. You have access to that right? You should read that before we meet and I can fill in the gaps.

Jason: Sounds good, I’ll have a look at it and I’m looking forward to it too. I'll be there at 5 so we can spar before dinner. Don't forget to warn B and your guard dog.

Danny: Damian is a good kid. I'll let them know.

Danny stared at his new phone Tim had given him with apprehension. The chat with Jason had gone very well, and Danny was glad he reached out but there were other people he really needed to reach out to and he was… frankly scared. Sam and Tucker were his best friends and had always been there for him but they both had tempers. Would they be mad that he hadn’t told them he was pregnant? Would they be upset he had left Amity and wasn’t planning on coming back?

He needed to reach out though, the longer he waited the harder it would be to talk to them, and things wouldn’t stay calm as they were now. Vlad would be back to cause trouble again and even though the JLD had control of the portal but he was sure his rogues would find their way through eventually. Vlad had his own portal anyway, and Danny wouldn’t put it past him to open it just to annoy Danny. Maybe try and weaken him a little so Vlad could swoop in and pick him off.

Today was quiet, he needed to take this chance. He sighed and got up off the edge of his bed where he was sitting and ducked out of his room. He didn’t want to do this alone, so he wasn’t surprised when he found himself in the library where Jazz was studying. 

He sat down across from her and reached across, laying his hand, palm up on the table. Without looking up from her book she reached over and placed her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. He smiled at her and took a deep breath before putting on his earbuds and sending a message in the group chat.

Danny: When you guys are ready can we call?

Jazz phone went off too and she checked it, smiled at Danny, and then silenced the chat and went back to her book. She didn’t need to be part of this call but at least she knew what he was doing. 

Sam: Yes, let me just grab Tuck. He’s playing Doomed.

Danny took a deep breath and put down his phone while he waited for them to call and tried not to panic.

When the phone buzzed he jumped and reached for it, joining the call quickly. 

“Hey guys,” He said, awkwardly, waving with the hand that wasn’t holding the phone.

“Hey yourself! What the heck happened Danny?! Basically the whole town joined in in chasing Vlad when we found out what he did but why did we have to find out on tv?! Why didn’t you tell us?!” Sam said, but at least she just seemed stressed, not actually angry.

“I’m sorry guys,” Danny said, wincing a little when he heard Tucker sniffling a little. “I hadn’t told anyone yet. I hadn’t even fully accepted it yet honestly.

“I still wasn’t ready to talk about it, bur Cass is really good at reading people's body language and I guess she clocked that I was carrying them by how I kept unconsciously touching my stomach. When she asked me about it it sorta broke through my denial and I broke down which started the ball rolling on… all this,” He said with a vague gesture.”

“All this is right!The justice league really brought the hammer down on Amity. They’re dismantling the GIW and really pissed at the government and basically all the adults in the town for letting this happen. And they arrested your parents!” Sam said sounding almost excited.

“Sam! That was really insensitive! They’re still his parents, what if he didn’t know!?” Tucker broke in furiously. 

“No it’s alright I knew, Jazz told me. She’s here with me,” He said squeezing her hand though she wasn’t paying attention to the call.

“Okaaay so where is Here?” Tucker asked warily. 

“Ya are you safe? We haven’t seen you since all this went down! Are you really with Bruce Wayne?” Sam asked sounding wary.

“Yes I am. He’s got a foster license and since his kids were the one that found out what was going on it just made sense that I’d stay here.”

“And he’s Not another Fruitloop?” Sam asked warily. “You need to be careful with these rich people you know? They’re basically all crazy!”

“Sam you’re rich,” Danny pointed out, amused. 

“Ya, and? My point stands!”

“Fair enough,” Danny laughed. “But no, I did some snooping the first night I was here and it seems okay. And since he’s got close ties to the Justice League he was able to get the help we really needed, and he says he might be able to help me meet Martian Manhunter!”

“Don’t fanboy out too bad,” Tucker teased him.

“Oh ya? And what if I helped you meet Tim Drake? Would you not be just as bad,” Danny accused Tucker.

“Touche,” Tucker said. “Could you though?”

“I mean maybe? He’s my foster brother now and he seems cool. You two are my best friends, if I’m going to stay I’m sure you could come visit me and meet all of them.” 

“Are you really going to stay there though? I mean once the GIW and everything is cleared out you could stay with either of us. I know my parents aren’t your biggest fans but I know they’d let you stay,” Sam said sounding worried. 

“And I know my family doesn't have a ton of money but they adore you, we’d make it work,” Tucker added looking worried.

“No, guys I really appreciate the offer but… I don’t want to come back to Amity. The Justice League said they shut down the portal and I really need a fresh start I think. I think I’d rather stay here. Jazz too, she’s gonna study at Gotham U and intern at Arkham,” He said. She looked up at the mention of her name and gave him a small smile.

“I’m sorry, you guys are my best friends and I’ll miss you, but there are too many… memories in Amity you know?”

“Ya I get that,” Sam said, looking sad and distant.

“We can still call, and play Doomed together, and visit on breaks!” Tucker said, his chipper tone sounding a little forced. “We’re going to say friends!” He insisted and Danny smiled.

“Of course we will Tuck,” He promised. They might grow apart with the distance between them, but he hoped not, they really were his best friends.

“Ya, my parents will probably be thrilled about this development and want me to come over all the time. They love the Waynes,” Sam chuckled though her optimism also seemed a bit forced. Of course she was more of a pessimist, she probably thought they would drift apart, but knew Danny needed them right now. 

“Soo what’s been going on in Amity since I left?” Danny asked, letting them ramble about the drama, the rumours, and the bullshit that was the bullies and everyone in the school sudden;y pretending they cared about Danny soooo much.

After they finished telling him about it there were a few beats of silence and Danny was just about to suggest they hang up when Sam spoke up again. 

“So, what actually happened with Vlad? If you don’t want to talk about it that’s okay but…”

“No, it’s okay. It’s not what- what you’d think. It’s superhero bullshit really. When I wouldn’t be his son he decided to try and clone me, you met Dani with an I right? She was one of the clones. But he didn’t know I was trans, and my DNA got all fucked up in the portal so none of the clones were stable. I have no idea how many he tried to make that died. But when I found out it was because he had lied to Dani and told her he needed me to stabilize her clone brothers. It was a batch of ten.

“But he lied, he didn’t actually care about stabilizing them, he was going to let them all die. I was only able to save the two that were most stable and only by taking their cores into myself. So I’m not normal pregnant, I’m ghost pregnant. 

What is my life huh?” He finished, chuckling awkwardly. 

“Oh fuck,” Sam said her shoulders slumping a little even as her expression went through a range of emotions. “That’s better in a way but still a whole different type of fucked up! I hope they catch him soon.”

“I hope so too but I don’t think they will,” Danny said with a shrug. “Not before he tries something else. I’m not lucky enough to be able to just move past this,” He said with a bitter little laugh.

“Well, we can still hope. And even if he does cause trouble you have more allies now! You’ve been able to handle everything else he’s thrown at you basically on your own, with the Justice League behind you I know there’s nothing you can’t handle. I mean, Vlad is kind of pathetic anyway,” Tucker encouraged making Danny smile. 

“Ya, you’re right, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Thanks guys,” he said fondly. 

“Of course dude! We’re here for you!” Tucker said.

“It’s really good to hear from you too. Don’t be a stranger okay?” Sam said, a bit worried.

“Of course not, I’ll keep you posted I promise.” Danny assured before they said their goodbyes and he hung up. 

He put down his phone and leaned back with a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. Next to him Jazz chuckled and there was a soft snap as she closed her book. 

“You did well little brother,” She told him, getting up from her seat she moved behind him and rested her hands on his shoulders.

“How do you know? You weren’t listening.”

“No, but you reached out to your friends and had an honest conversation which isn’t easy. You did well,” She reiterated, squeezing his shoulders.

“Well thanks Jazz. I hope that they’re right that we won’t lose touch, and I’ll be able to handle whatever Vlad does,” He grumbled. 

“I’m sure we will,” Jazz promised. “And either way there’s no point in worrying about it now. Has Jason texted you yet?” She asked, giving Danny the excuse he needed to change the subject and launch into his more petty worries about the upcoming date as she sat back down to listen.

Next

[rxzennia]

nocturnality

– tales of the voracity pathstrider

✎𓂃 irregular sleep patterns make for good nightmare consolation

aventurine wakes up in a cold sweat, throwing off the sheets as he sits up abruptly. 4am, his bedside clock reads, and he rubs his eyes. he can’t get the images of the thirty-four slaves he had killed out of his head; he watched the life drain from their eyes, and they were children like him. neither could he be rid of the feeling of blood on his hands, from those whom he stained himself with, and those who stained themselves upon him.

see, he isn't the type to seek anyone out in his moment of vulnerability

he doesn’t trust anyone to not take his fears and use them against him

but he thinks you might be safe

you did put up with him for 5 years and counting, after all 

although he still can't really tell if you like working for him

you haven't left yet! and you seem to care about him!

it means something to him, even if you're not outright showering him with warmth

he would've loved it if you were more affectionate, but he finds himself liking the way you’re only ever soft for him 

you’re a slab of ice to everyone else (even to him occasionally, if he doesn’t pester you enough to get you to open up)

anyways, he debates between texting, calling, or visiting you in person

your room is not too far away from his block – he might as well try his luck

(he has insanely good luck, so maybe you will be awake)

before that, he sends you a text just in case

it's not even a text, it's just a random sticker in his recents

your reply comes a few seconds later, and it's so characteristically you

one question mark. literally. just “?”

there he has it, you're still up and about. aventurine is used to your patterns by now, even if he can’t wrap his head around how you sleep so late and rise so early.

well, as long as you're well and doing your job properly, he's not going to question it

though he does wonder if you sleep at all

you’re his dutiful secretary during the day, sorting his documents, reminding him of his schedule and the like

you even follow him into meetings if he asks you to 

sometimes he has to be ready by 5am

and guess what? you're awake and all dressed up by then, knocking at his door at 5am sharp

but you don't go to bed until 3am?

he only knows that because he had once tried to talk to you about a project idea he had at that time and you didn't pick up the phone 

when you finally did pick up on his second call (in his defense, you usually weren’t asleep yet), you sounded groggy

and then you were like “mrrrrrh what is so important that you must wake me?”

he will never tell you how much he found your sleepy voice adorable

that was the earliest he's ever seen you sleep in all the days that he's known you

he really, really hopes you’ll renew your contract with him

you’re his absolute favorite out of all the secretaries he’s had

no one’s as soft with him as you are

no one’s ever tried to listen to him, or to understand him the way you do

out of everyone, you’re the only one who he feels some sort of genuine connection with

he’s seriously considering giving you a permanent position when your current contract ends

a familiar sequence of knocks sound at your door, and you know it's aventurine who's come to visit you. you've set up something like that with him because of the sheer frequency at which he bothers you outside of office hours, and you'd like to know which inconsiderate bastard it is who tries to visit your room past midnight.

affectionately, of course

it's not like he's causing you any inconvenience, so you don’t really care

you look at him, and wordlessly, you open your arms

you don’t need an explanation, or excuses, or an apology, or anything

his eyes are bloodshot, and you can see the cold sweat still on his forehead

he didn’t even bother tidying up before coming to see you

your heart aches, because it isn’t very often your boss comes to you in this state

he doesn’t even hesitate before he plops face first into your embrace

you’re lucky it’s the ungodly hours of no-one-is-awake, because you bringing your boss into your room is not a good look for you

especially when he’s holding onto you like you’re his secret lover or something

you don’t talk, and neither does he

you just hold him as he clings to you like you’re his lifeline

you lift him up easily; you're not about to stand in the doorway for the rest of the night 

he likes how you don’t ask questions, how you comfort him without expecting anything in return

you don’t even know what exactly it is that plagues him, but you’re so tender with him all the same

you settle down in bed with him, though he can tell that you were working before he interrupted you

your monitors are still on, and you have a dozen of papers laid out side-by-side along with a pen that is now abandoned

he feels a little bad, but also he’s overwhelmed by how easily you do these things

like… setting your work aside because he’s looking for comfort

but you’re not even doing it consciously? you’re doing it so naturally like you’re doing it out of habit

he doesn’t think you intended to tuck him into your bed when you picked him up

he doesn’t get it. he doesn’t get you.

you could’ve held him in your lap while you worked and he wouldn’t have complained

to give him your undivided attention like this

are you trying to make him lower his guard? 

he wants to draw the natural conclusion of your eventual betrayal once he lets you in, but he finds it so ridiculous that it’s impossible

you? who’s so gentle with him? who’s not even spoiling him consciously?

aventurine doesn’t feel safe with many people, if at all. the fact that he breathes so peacefully by your side is a surprise in and of itself. when your fingers brush against his hair, he shivers and holds onto your arm tighter. 

“don’t go,” he says, as sleep slowly takes him again, “stay.”

you chuckle, a sound that he loves to hear, as you offer him your entire right side

and your scarf

you don’t know if he’d like it, but you flick the end on your right over to him anyway

he does like it. he snuggles into the fabric without hesitation

he vaguely remembers the fact that your scarf is your weapon, but it’s the least important thing on his mind right now

it’s soft. it smells like you. it’s comfortable.

you’re still trying to work, settling for reading through documents on your tablet

he cuddles up to you, shifting in your warmth until he finds himself a nice position to settle into

you let him sleep by your side, even if you’re unlikely to rest yourself

it’s okay, you can work through the night just fine with your tablet

you’ll be right next to him when he wakes

you glance at aventurine, who’s finally relaxed and getting the rest he deserves. he’s snoring softly all the while holding your arm in a death grip, and you feel yourself overcome with a surge of protectiveness.

you’ll watch over him. when he’s feeling better, you’ll see if he wants to talk about it. and whatever happens next… well, you’ll cross that bridge when you get there. you still have contracts and agreements to review, and there’s only so much time before more work ends up on your plate.

that said, aventurine’s day starts in three hours; maybe you could shuffle a few things around and let him sleep in?

[yawnderu]

Final Girl — Slasher!Keegan P. Russ x Reader (2/?)

cw: stalking, noncon. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

Your life was never meant to be a punishment.

"Are you listening?" The man in front of you asks the moment your gaze starts to drift off for the third time since you arrived at the office.

"Sorry. What did you say?" The dark circles around your eyes make you resemble a raccoon more than a human, the memories of your friends dying and their blood splattered all around the pale wallpapers. Images of nature that were supposed to be remembered as calming do the exact opposite, forever engraved in your broken psyche.

"Do you remember anything about the suspect?" The detective's voice is calm, laced with nothing but pure understanding and compassion, a man too passionate about what he does— and the man you're about to lie to, delaying the investigation of your friend's death just to save your own ass.

"Nothing other than what I've told you, sir. Everything is just so..." The pregnant pause makes him fidget with the pen in his hand, grey eyes focused on the way you look away from him, eyes squinting as you try to recall memories from that night, memories that are so painful he can see it written all over your face, making him feel a pang of guilt.

"It's okay. Call me if you remember anything else, yeah?" His warm hand rests on your shoulder after you get up, trying his best to give you a reassuring smile that is only met with weary eyes, making your way out without saying anything. There's hesitation in your steps, your heart almost beating out of your chest the moment you stop walking and look over your shoulder, briefly meeting his curious gaze.

“He had brown eyes.” Mr. Smith doesn't waste any time on adding the information to his notes, only making the guilt spread all over your insides like black mold, taking over what used to be your soul— it's all his now.

Your life was never meant to be a punishment, yet what do you call seeing the man who killed your friends everywhere you go? He's been taking over your entire life no matter how much you try to push the memories away, no matter how much you try to forget it all happened, only serving as a constant reminder that you didn't do enough.

Dreams colliding with reality isn't something new, yet your nightmares are so realistic that it almost feels like you were there. Even while you were hidden away in a dark closet, you can see your friends struggling against the much bigger, armed man, innocent bodies butchered while they were alive, a mess of limbs spread all over the rented cabin, blank eyes always staring at you, watching you run away and leave them behind.

Were you losing your mind? It all seems so real, to the point you're not even convinced you only saw your best friend die. Are you sure you didn't peek the kitchen the moment you cowardly decided to escape? The kitchen was blocked by a wall, and yet.

Cold water splashes all over your face, feeling the softness of your palm rub the skin, trying to come back to reality, to remind yourself that it's impossible to have seen the other bodies. The crime scene report is repeated over and over like a mantra, serving as a permanent reminder that you weren't there. No, not when only a body was found in the living room.

The person looking back at you in the mirror is a far cry from who you used to be. The dark circles in your eyes resemble more a dead girl walking than a real, healthy body, and perhaps that's what you are. If it weren't for the constant feeling of crippling dread and the tears spilling down your cheeks like a broken dam, you could've fooled a mortician.

The sound of your phone vibrating against the vanity brings you back to reality from your trip to Self-Pity Land, slapping some more water on your sweaty face before deciding to take a peek at the screen.

1:38 PM.

From: Ali💗

Almost there.

It's enough to make you scurry around the room, applying enough makeup to not make your friend worry, knowing that she wanted to get you out of the house just to give you a worthy distraction.

For what seems like the first time in forever, the corners of your lips tilt up into a smile the moment your friend wraps her arms around you, holding you close despite the odd stares you're getting from the people in the diner.

“Hey, you.” Her cheerfulness was contagious, to the point that even if only for a second, you get a sense of normalcy. A sense of community, despite your own feelings about the entire situation.

Your friend can talk for two. Something that you never noticed until now, listening to her ramble about anything and everything for the past hour. In a way, it gave you the chance to dissociate in peace, the words mixing together to the point they barely made sense anymore, completely entering one ear and leaving the other.

“He's looking at you.” Alina says in a teasing whisper, nudging you with her elbow. You give her a confused glance until she looks between the man and you, giving you the look.

Your gaze connects with a pair of baby blue eyes, forcing a sharp pain to cut through your soul. His eyes look too familiar, resembling the pair you see every single day in your nightmares. His entire demeanor screams ''cocky bastard'', manspreading on the seat of the table across from you, his arm propped up on the backrest.

“Awful timing, but I have to go.” Alina says with a small frown, though it quickly changes to a little smug smirk the moment she realizes the man is still looking at you. If she even notices your pleading gaze, it goes completely ignored as she gets up from the booth, giving you a strong, goodbye hug— and the stare from the man makes it clear that it might be the last one.

“Get some.” She teases in a whisper, quickly making her way out of the diner after paying for your drinks. You feel the urge to empty your stomach, yet there's barely anything there, only the slow-growing sense of pure dread the longer you keep staring at each other. Even when you force yourself to look away, you can see him staring at you from the corner of your eye, almost able to tell he has a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

Leaving a halfway done drink behind, you make your way out of the diner, hoping that being out with more witnesses can save you. Is that really him? You barely got the chance to see his eyes yet you never saw his face, starting to doubt yourself the longer your tired feet drag you around the street. He could be an innocent man falling victim of your trauma, simply looking to get laid— you could probably use that, too, yet his icy stare and cocky grin is carved into your damaged mind.

“Need a ride?” A deep, gravely voice offers, nearly giving you a heart attack the moment your eyes meet his. Your hand goes up to your chest, trying to calm your fast-beating heart even when he gives you a reassuring, charming smile.

“No, thank you.” Your tone is far too polite and kind, still wanting to give him the benefit of the doubt despite the fight or flight screaming at you to flee— to get away from the man you're now convinced is the same masked man who murdered your friends.

“Get in the fucking car, princess.”

The charming smile he was shooting your way is gone within a second, his icy gaze piercing through your soul now that he knows you saw through his bullshit. Your gaze drifts down to the hand lifting a part of his shirt up, revealing part of his dark, happy trail— and his handgun.

There's hesitation in your steps as you walk to the passenger's seat, already feeling the smoothie you drank starting to crawl up your throat, almost making you throw it all up, yet you do your best to hold it in, shakily getting into his car.

“… My house's up ahead.” You purposely give him the wrong address, trying to protect your family and yourself from the deranged bastard. The ride is eerily quiet, almost making you even more nervous than if he was trying to make conversation with you. There's no music playing, no humming— nothing, other than his fingers tapping against the steering wheel and his calm breathing.

“We're here.” Maybe you're reading him wrong, but there's hints of teasing bleeding through his deep voice, his eyes shining with mirth when you step out of his truck, making your way to one of the houses. You reach the front door after what feels like minutes, your hand shaking as you think of what to do. You can hear the engine of his car still behind you, not driving away even when you told him that's your home.

I don't want anyone else to die because of me. If someone opens the door, would he murder them too? He has a gun, and the way he brutalized your friends makes it clear that he's not afraid to get his hands dirty no matter the weapon. His loud laugh makes every single muscle in your body tense up, hesitantly looking back at him, the pure amusement dancing all over his face doesn't ease your fears in the slightest.

“Come back, sweetheart. I'll take you home.” And he stays true to his word, driving back in silence, his warm hand resting on your bare thigh. You don't dare look at it, simply staring out of the window, feeling every single callus on his hand while the scenery gets more and more familiar. The black mold in your soul spreads by the second, threatening to rot you from the inside out, bubbling up into a disgusting brew as he stops in front of your house.

Your eyes briefly meet his, his pupils starting to dilate the same way they did when he was done brutalizing your friends; just like a predator who has never failed to catch his prey. You never gave him your address— in fact, you didn't say a single word since you got back into his truck, yet he still found his way to your house.

It's all starting to make sense. Despite assuming it's all a product of your paranoia, you've been catching hints of the masked man everywhere you go, blue eyes always staring right into your soul.

“Not gonna invite me over for some coffee?” Technically, it is a question, yet you both know saying no to him is not even on the table.

“Sure… I can make you a coffee.” Perhaps inviting a serial killer is not the brightest idea, yet what other options do you even have? He knows where you live and the places you frequent, you're not safe anywhere. His hand drifts down to the small of your back as you open the entrance door, hesitantly letting him back into the only safe space you had, willingly allowing him to invade your life.

“Atta girl.” What should feel like praise from an older man only serves as additional mental torture, the sound of the door closing behind you making all hope of surviving him fade away.

“Come sit on my lap.” He walks to the living room as if it's his own home, not even asking for directions, simply being able to navigate his way around like he's been here before— deep inside, you know he has. Your nose starts to sting as he sits down on the couch and forces you to straddle him, your thighs around his, allowing you to feel all the muscle.

“Don't cry…” He taunts, only now making you aware of the hot tears dripping down your cheeks, your lips trembling as he pushes you closer by the ass, pressing your clothed cunt against his hardening dick. His face is buried on he crook of your neck, loudly inhaling your scent as his starts to grind against you, calloused hands roaming all over your pretty body.

“Wanna feel my cock?” The vigorous head shake you give him is enough to make him laugh, open-mouthed kisses planted all over your neck and shoulders, not caring about leaving any marks. You can barely register the sound of his zipper coming down until he's guiding your hand to his warm, hardening dick.

You're too shaky to even do anything about it, disgust and nervousness turning into a dangerous mix, yet Keegan is a patient man. A patient man who gently makes your fingers wrap around his shaft, guiding your movements to jerk him off, getting even harder underneath your touch. Low grunts and muffled moans are spilled right into your ear, clearly getting off despite your very clear fear.

“You're doing so good, princess…” He murmurs. Keegan's free hand starts to sneak his way inside your shirt, slipping past your bra, his thumb brushing past your hardening nipple. Your brain is able to recognize that fight or flight aren't options anymore, so just like a wild animal trying to avoid a fight; you freeze.

Your shaky breaths mingle together, only interrupted by the low groans he lets out, his hand leaving yours for the first time, leaving you unsure of what to do. Despite the tears falling down your cheeks and the muffled whimpers, your hand keeps moving up and down his shaft, not wanting to die by his dirty, blood-tainted hands.

Keegan's mind isn't broken enough to not know it's wrong, yet it has been broken enough to the point he simply doesn't care. Thrown away by his brothers in arms and the marines, he doesn't have anything else to lose. No life purpose, other than to bring others the same pain he has suffered for years.

A quiet whimper escapes your lips as he moves your hand away from his cock, using his tip to move your underwear aside. His free hand goes to the back of your head, encouraging you to hide your pretty, tear-stained face on the crook of his neck, fully muffling your cries the moment he penetrates you. His dick is way too thick for his own good— stretching you open forcefully, despite the way he's actually going out of his way to make it as painless as possible.

“Shh, it's okay, kid. Just enjoy it.” He whispers into your ear, running a reassuring hand up and down your back, starting to move inside you, as if what he's doing could be even remotely enjoyable. A low, throaty moan makes its way out of his lips the moment he manages to bottom out, your body responding to the forced intrusion by getting you wet, not able to register that you don't want it.

Breaking you apart is the closest thing to religion he's ever gotten. Keegan's lips crash against yours as his hips start to thrust up faster and deeper, growing more desperate by the second despite how wrong he knows it is. He shouldn't be enjoying this, yet he's just a broken, terrible man, the little sobs leaving your lips only making him fuck into you harder.

The human body works in odd, awful ways. You don't want this, yet every single nerve inside your cunt is being stimulated by his long shaft, sending signals to your body that make it feel much better after you got wet. The small moan that gets ripped out from your throat makes him break away from the kiss, amusement written all over his face.

Keegan's forehead leans against yours as his hips rock against yours, his breath hot against your face. From this position, you're able to examine his face, taking note of as many details as possible in case he decides to let you leave, no matter how slim the chances are.

Thick, black eyebrows, buzzcut, dark scruff covering his pale cheeks. High cheekbones, light blue eyes, no visible scars or moles.

You repeat it inside your head like a mantra, trying to use it as a replacement to keep your head occupied from the knot starting to tense in your stomach, tightening up more and more with each thrust. You know for a fact you're hating this, yet your body is betraying you, coating his cock with slick.

He pulls out only to slam himself back in, dragging more pathetic moans out of your lips the moment he hits your spongy cervix. The stimulation is enough to make you hide your face on the warm crook of his neck, biting your thumb hard to muffle your own sounds the moment you start tightening up around him, finally giving in to the stimulation.

Your teeth sink deeper into your skin despite the small whiny moan escaping your lips the moment your forced orgasm hits, barely conscious enough to register the cocky laugh above you, feeling his lips connect against your temple, his breath hot on your skin as he manages to pull out, shooting ropes of thick cum all over your stomach.

“See? It wasn't that bad, was it, princess?” You collapse against him with a loud exhale, not able to hold it together anymore.

“Why…?” It's all you can ask, and you're not even sure about the reason you're asking why. Why did he kill your friends? Why did he let you live? Why is he stalking you? Why did he force himself on you? Why is he caressing your body like you're made of glass, as if he didn't just destroy you into thousands of shards?

“Because I'm not right in the head anymore.”

Taglist: @h0ney-mushroom @bangtandaze @elentiyaiswriting @lollycotton @sleepydang @billiousserpent As always, thank you so much @moosch for the amazing art!! 💗💗 world-building with her has been so fucking exciting and I'm happy to finally be writing about Slasher!Keegan after we've been talking about it for months!!<333

[starkeyisthelastname]

Step!bro rafe part 2? Like maybe everyone’s reactions after he blurted it out, the conversation with Ward and Rose, etc!!

The island was small and word traveled fast at Rafe’s loud statement to JJ Maybank about him being the father of his step-sister’s baby. When Ward got the phone call from the Island Club owner about the incident, he didn’t want to believe his already troubled son had really impregnated his step-daughter. The step-daughter that never gave him any reason to believe she would ever let Rafe do this to her, making Ward wonder if the sex had been consensual at all. The more he thought about his grandchild, the more he realized just how much she looked like his son.

The moment you two walked in the house, baby girl asleep in your arms, you saw Ward stepping out from his office. You knew by the look in his eyes, he knew what happened only 45 minutes before. “Put the baby down and you two come talk to me.” He said sternly. Rafe scoffed, rolling his blue eyes as you quickly headed upstairs to lay your daughter down in her crib.

Walking into the immaculate office, you saw Ward sitting at his desk and your mother sitting on the couch with a heavy glass of wine in hand. Rafe and you took a seat in the empty chairs, waiting for your step-father to start speaking.

“So I got a call from the owner of the Island Club about an incident. Know anything about that?” He asked, question pointing more towards Rafe.

You cowered your heard down, waiting for your step-brother to reply. Rafe wasn’t going to let this go easy and you could feel the fight brewing.

“Don’t know what you are talking about.” Rafe said with a shrug to his shoulders, acting as if nothing happened.

You happened to glance over at your mother, who gave you a look of disappointment, even more so than she did when she found out you were pregnant.

“No idea? Okay how about, you being the father to that baby up there. That ring a bell?” Ward asked, standing up, anger seething through him. He didn’t want to aim it towards you, not knowing if his son had solely did this from being fucked in the head, at least that’s how Ward saw him.

“Okay and so what if it’s true? She’s my step-sister.” Rafe said, his voice rising as his father always brought out the worst in him no matter how hard he tried.

“Rafe..” Rose said, eyes in shock.

You felt the tears falling, knowing that the secret the two of you had been keeping was over. There wasn’t any hiding it anymore. The one person you found comfort in no matter how messed up this situation was, was Rafe. He may have been an asshole, his head may no always been on straight, but he would quite literally kill for you and more importantly that baby girl.

“Your step-sister that you’ve known since you were 10! Did you do something without her knowing? Get her pregnant on purpose? Because you like to fuck everything up in this family!” Ward yelled. He looked at you and back to Rafe, taking breath to calm himself down. “As far as I’m concerned. I can no longer have the two of you in my home. As much as I love you Y/N, this is something that can’t be undone and is an embarrassment to the Cameron name.”

It was as if, you didn’t know who your mother was anymore. Your heart breaking at the fact of losing the family you had been with since you were only nine years old. Looking at Rafe, he silently nodded to you, giving you reassurance that you had him and the two of you would raise your baby girl away from the island that was toxic.

[touchtheinvisiblestars]

Imagine Spencer looking after you when you get hurt on a stakeout

You'd been paired with a local officer, tasked with a night stakeout at a farm. The pair of you were supposed to watch for any activity, and report back any movement.

Which of course went pear shaped when the young, ambitious man you'd been placed with identified a missing person being led out of the main building. Faster than you could react to stop him, he'd thrown himself out the door, gun raised and ready and attempted to subdue the men.

Instead of impulsively running after him, you chose to stay back and call for help. Simultaneously pressing the distress button on the device Garcia had rather ingeniously insisted you all carry.

It pinged your location to all members of the team, and alerted them that whoever pressed it was in trouble.

Reaching the sheriff's department, you reported the activity and the officers mistake. Watching as they turned on him, you let out a gasp when one of the suspects didn't wait for him to finish the rest of his demands. Instead in the blink of an eye shot him, three times.

"Agent? Agent? Can you hear me, what's going on there?" The Detective who'd answered the phone asked you.

"They just killed him." You breathed, watching as they dragged his body away, the missing boy cowering against the side of the house. Before another one of the suspects grabbed onto him and dragged him away.

"Have they seen you? Are you compromised?"

"Maybe... I don't know. They-" you were cut off by the passenger door opening, revealing one of the men you'd been watching earlier that night.

Before you could reach for your gun, which was stupidly placed on the dashboard, he grabbed you by your hair and dragged you out of the car. Slamming you down onto the ground roughly, even your kevlar vest couldn't stop the air being knocked out of you.

Promptly followed by a hard kick to your stomach, making your chest go into spasm. Gasping in air, you could barely focus on where the next hit was coming from.

***

After what seemed like an eternity he finally let up, shoving you back into the gravel of the driveway and stalking off. Barking orders at the other men who had appeared from the shadows.

"Let's go boys, we need to ship out to location Tango. Got it?.. Let's go then. Her buddies will be here any moment." He called out, sparing a glance back to you.

Feeling entirely too conscious, you dared not move, not fancying another punch to the face.

Multiple cars started up and disappeared over the hills to the back of the property.

You curled onto your side, and tried to breathe in some even breaths. Trying to not focus on the pain all over, you managed to get yourself on all fours. Realising at some point he pulled your bulletproof vest off.

Maneuvering yourself so you were slowly leaning back against the tyre of the truck you were doing the stakeout in. The light from the houses and extra that had been switched on gave you a good look around. And also at yourself. Seeing there were blood splatters on your shirt. You tried not to imagine what you looked like.

Closing your eyes for a moment, taking slow deep breaths in to try and calm your racing heart.

Hearing the sound of gravel under tyres, you instantly panicked. A unexpected wave of adrenaline coarsed through you, giving you the energy needed to get yourself off the floor and in a better position to defend yourself in.

"Y/n?" Hotch's concerned shout fell of deaf ears as you scrambled to get into the car and grab your gun.

"Hey, no, no, no. It's us, calm down." A familiar voice soothed. Intercepting you and stopping your hand before it could pick up your weapon, that you hadn't had the chance to grab.

You hissed and winced as he touched you left wrist, a sickeningly sharp pain shooting up your arm.

"I'm sorry. What hurts?"

"Spence?" Seeing his face relaxed you instantly, "we need to be quick, they literally just left. Over that ridge up there. If we go now we could catch up with them."

Leaning down to get a look at you, some of his wild hair falling out of place as he fussed over you.

"You're not going anywhere, okay? You need to be seen to, what the hell happened? We got the distress ping and ran out the door."

He intercepted your attempt to grab the keys in the ignition. Taking them from you and putting them in his coat pocket.

"That stupid boy got himself killed. He ran over there, gun out, demanding they gave up the boy and that they were under arrest... There were three of them! To one of him, he was never going to subdue all of them."

"You did everything right, okay? He should never have tried to go after them. This group is far too organised for that."

"But I just sat here. I watched it happen, I-"

"Stop. I won't let you do this to yourself. Did you see the person who attacked you?"

"Yeah, he was young. Green eyes, bit of a beard. Around six-five. Probably mid thirties. Um- he was wearing a yellow plaid shirt with a puffer vest jacket. He had.." You trailed off, a piercing headache making you double over.

"That's amazing, y/n. Come on, the ambulance is over here." He said, curling his arm around your waist and helped you out of the car.

Spying Hotch looking over a map, you pulled away from Spencer and limped over to him. Spencer following close behind holding onto your wrist.

You looked at the map to get your bearings, finding the circled area you were in. You pointed at the hills behind the house.

"Y/n, have you seen a medic?" Aaron asked, frowning at you, one of the few facial expressions he had.

"No she hasn-" Spencer started, but you cut him off.

"They went over this ridge," you paused, steadying yourself on the bonnet of the truck, "if we leave now we could catch them."

"Okay, but you aren't going anywhere until you've been checked out. Reid. Make sure she gets medical attention." Hotch spoke to you and then to Spencer who was hovering worriedly.

"Hotch, please. We might not get another chance like this again." You tried, refusing to move from the car.

"Y/n that's not a suggestion. It's an order. Go." Hotch finalised, nodding to Spencer who supported you as he lightly pulled you back.

The medics met you halfway and started asking you an endless list of questions.

A suspected cracked rib and multiple bones in your wrist, concussion, and bruising all over. You were told to visit the hospital once you were back in the city. They strapped you up and gave you some painkillers.

"Where's Hotch?" You asked as Spencer helped you get down from the ambulance, "I've been checked out, I want to help."

"They've headed back to the station. We can't just go roaming across the hills looking for people in the dark. Y/n, it's too dangerous."

"Spencer, come on. We won't get another chance like this."

"We will, okay? I promise you they won't get away. You think any of us will let you go out like this? You need x-rays, anti-inflammatory medication, potentially a CT scan, and most of all rest. Hotch wants you on two weeks leave, after you leave the hospital."

"No," you exclaimed exasperated, "I need you to do a cognitive interview on me."

"Okay. But not now." He spoke softly, brows furrowed as he looked down at you.

"Why not now?"

"Because you've spent the last ten minutes digging your nails into your palm. And you only do that when you're in pain."

You instantly released your clenched fist. Not realising you'd even being doing it.

Releasing a deep breath, you were finally ready to admit defeat. Nodding, you let him lead you back to the car you'd come in.

The drive back was comfortably silent, Spencer looking over to check on you occasionally. You sighed on arriving at the closest hospital.

"I know okay. But do you really want me lecturing you about all the reasons you should follow the medics advice and get to the hospital immediately?"

Shaking your head, you sent a small smile his way.