#the drabble files

[rollingsins]

the drabble files, p3

p1 | p2 | p3

summary: Several years into the future, after a call from the Principal, you and Tara sit your son down for a talk.

warnings: Tara is (was) Ghostface.

word count: 1.5k.

a/n: future!fic, obviously set post all hers. for those of you who have gf!tara baby fever - bet you don't after this.

“Sit down,” You say, sternly, “This is serious.” 

A call from the school isn’t uncommon these days. Your son, Gabriel, barely twelve years old, is flowering into quite the young rebel. 

At first, it had been mostly harmless. Silly pranks pulled on his younger sister. Crude jokes shared with his friends in the back of your car. Arguing about chores. 

But you’ve never had the Principal himself call you in the middle of the day to complain before. 

And you know if you don’t nip it in the bud now, that flowering rebel will bloom into an absolute nightmare of a teenager. 

Gabriel looks back at you with wide eyes. 

He’s tall for his age, with long, floppy dark hair. He has Tara’s eyes, her easy smile, and has seemingly also inherited her utter lack of respect for any figure of authority. 

He eyes the seat opposite you, pursing his lips as he slinks into the chair, flipping his hair like a wannabe Justin Bieber. 

Tara sits beside you, lazy arm slung across the back of your chair. She knows her role well by now - back-up. The other arm in your chain of unity. 

“Fun-Mom” Gabriel sometimes called her, “Scary-Mom” when she got mad. 

Somehow, you always seemed to be known as “Un-Fun-Mom”, a title you couldn't' quite shake. 

You half dare him to try it now, but he only blinks back at you, as if he understands he’s pushed the boat too far this time. 

You tilt your head at him, silently fuming. Tara’s fingers brush against the back of your neck, a familiar technique Gabriel called ‘taming the beast’. You shake her off and swallow, leaning across the table at your moron of a son. 

“Mr. Sampson called this afternoon,” You say, voice heated, “He told me you called him something very rude in class. Is that true?” 

He blinks back at you with long, dark lashes. His eyes catch Tara’s, then he looks back to you. 

He shrugs, but it’s not as nonchalant as you know he hopes it is. 

He shrugs like he’s too scared to answer. 

You lean forward, eyes narrowing.

“He said you called him a 'argyle wearing troglodyte who couldn’t find his way between a woman’s legs if someone drew him a map made out of rocks.'” 

Gabriel swallows. 

You stare back at him, fire behind your eyes. 

It’s quiet for only a moment. Nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing and the sharp intake of Gabriel’s breath. 

And then beside you, Tara snorts. 

It rumbles through the kitchen as if it’s a thunderstorm. 

Your head jerks over to Tara at the same time Gabriel’s eyes find her. 

You stare at her, furrows browed, a sharp wave of indignation flooding through you. You’re supposed to be a team and she’s shown her hand. 

Broken the chain of unity. 

But it doesn’t last long. Immediately, her eyes widen as she realizes what she’s done. 

She turns to you, eyes wide, like she’s just entered a ring with a tiger. Her face drains of color. Her hand slung across the back of your chair slips. 

You blink in quiet outrage and she sits up, swallowing. 

She steadies her expression, suddenly serious, but it’s too late. 

By the time your gaze shifts back to Gabriel, he’s smiling. 

The victory of making his Mom laugh has bloomed a shit-eating grin across his face. 

“You forgot bitchless,” He gloats, leaning forward, “I called him a bitchless argyle wearing troglodyte who couldn’t-“ 

“Gabriel Carpenter,” You hiss, slamming your hand down on the table, “This isn’t funny.” 

“Mom seems to think it is.” He says, voice snide. He leans back in his chair, as if this is all a carnival game and he’s just won a first place ribbon. 

Your nostrils flare. 

Out of your two children, Gabriel had always been the more difficult child. Loud, obnoxious, moody, temperamental. 

His looks aren’t the only thing he’s inherited from your wife. 

The “I don’t give a fuck” nature had come as an unfortunate package. 

It had been cute when he was a toddler. 

Not so much anymore. 

“Really?” You challenge, looking over to your wife, “Tara, do you think it’s funny Gabriel called his history teacher a “bitchless, argyle wearing troglodyte”?” 

Tara shakes her head, immediately. 

“No babe, of course not,” She placates you, reaching over to squeeze your hand. You glare at her until she turns to your son, “That isn’t funny Gabriel.” 

“But you laughed,” He protests, all confidence lost. 

“I wasn’t laughing at what you said, I was laughing at something funny I thought of in my head.” Tara says, rather unconvincingly. 

You roll your eyes. 

Tara pauses, side eyeing you a moment and then tilting her head towards Gabriel. 

“Where’d you’d even come up with that kind of insult anyway?” She asks, trying - and failing, not to sound interested.

Gabriel smirks. 

“From you, Mom,” He says, “It’s the way you talk about Grandpa.” 

Tara’s eyes widen. She looks over to you, a little afraid.

“Yes, well, that’s wrong of me,” She says, a little hastily, “You shouldn’t insult people, Gabe. Not to their face.” 

Gabriel’s face crinkles. 

“You mean I should just insult them behind their back?” He asks, a little confused. 

You pinch your nose. 

“No,” You stress, nudging your wife to be quiet before she makes the situation even worse, “You shouldn’t insult people at all. You’re going to apologize to Mr Sampson tomorrow and we’re all going to pray you don’t get suspended.” 

Gabriel sulks. 

“But he is a bitchless troglodyte,” He scowls, crossing his arms, “You should hear the way he talks to the girls in class. Like they’re too stupid to follow his lessons.” 

“That’s neither here nor there,” You say, firmly, “If you want to make a complaint about Mr Sampson you can do it properly, by talking to the principal.” 

You pause, furrowing your brow. 

“And stop saying “bitchless”, You add, “Where’d you learn that word anyway?” 

“It’s what Mom calls Aunt Mindy sometimes.” Gabriel answers, happily. 

You shoot another scowl towards your wife. 

She averts her gaze. 

“You’re grounded,” You tell your son, “Two weeks. No screentime, and you come straight home after school.”

Gabriel’s eyes widen, “But Ma-“ 

“Don’t argue with me, Gabriel, you’re in enough trouble as it is.” You say, voice hot. 

Gabriel blinks back at you. 

“Mom?” He looks at Tara, moon-eyed. 

“Don’t look at her, she’s not going to help you.” You snap, and Tara shifts uncomfortably. 

You look over to her, look pointed. 

She purses her lips, cowering under the fury in your gaze. 

“Mama’s right, Gabe, you can’t call people names. You’re grounded.” 

Gabriel looks over to her, betrayal in his eyes. 

“But-“ 

“No buts, now get upstairs and get your sister down for dinner before you get yourself - or me - in anymore trouble.” Tara mumbles. She’s not making eye contact with you, uncharacteristically avoidant. 

Gabriel folds his arms. 

“She’s your kid, get her yourself.” Gabriel glares. 

Your son thinks he has a fire, but you know your wife a little better than he does.

He's an ember and she's a forest fire.

You lean back, satisfied she’ll take over from here. 

Tara glares at him. 

“That’s another week grounded for talking back,” Tara growls. 

Gabriel’s eyes bulge. 

“You can’t do that!” He says, mouth falling open, eyes wide in all his pre-teen outrage. 

“Wanna make it four?” 

Gabriel frowns. His eyebrows pitch together in that way Tara’s do right before she’s about to throw a tantrum. 

He stares back at her as if she’s a traitor and stands, dragging his chair along the floor with a sharp whine to express his dissatisfaction. 

Usually, the two of them are thick as thieves. Tara and her little mini me. But Gabriel had made a critical error - he’d tried to pit your wife against you. 

A thick as thieves or no, mother and son or no - there’s no-ones team she’s on but yours. 

Gabriel leaves the table with a grumble, shooting daggers at her. He stomps to the bottom of the stairs and leans over the bannister. 

“Riley!” He calls, “Dinner!” 

“Go up and get her, Gabriel,” Tara snaps, “Am I speaking French?” 

He stomps up the stairs, dirty look in his eyes. 

You look over to her. She’s in Scary-Mom mode now, your son has inadvertently awoken the beast.

But as she looks over to you, her expression softens. 

She scoots her chair a little closer and curls up against you, not unlike an oddly affectionate panther. 

Her lips graze the side of your cheek before she presses a quick peck to the top of your head. 

Then she looks at you, eyes apologetic. Mournful. 

“I wasn’t undermining you, baby, I really was thinking of something funny in my head.” She says, so quickly the words jumble together. 

You consider this, and then squeezes her hand. 

You meet her lips in a soft kiss. 

“You’re a terrible liar,” You tell her, drawing back, “But thanks for backing me up.” 

“Always.” She murmurs. 

There’s a loud crash from the top of the stairs and then you hear your daughter scream out. 

“It’s mine, Gabriel!” She cries. 

“Don’t be such a baby, you had your turn.” Says Gabriel. 

You sigh. 

Tara stands with a growl. Her chair scrapes against the tile. You wince.

“Don’t kill them,” You say, sounding resigned. 

You stare over at the pot on the stove. The pasta is sure to be over cooked by now. Your Son would be in a mood for the rest of the night and now he'd gone and upset his sister.

“Don’t give me any ideas.” Tara grumbles, before she marches up the stairs. 

#ghostface!tara #scream #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x yn #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x yn #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #scream vi #fanfic #mine #all hers #drabble #the drabble files

[formulafics]

❀ MAKE IT REAL | OP81

Scenario: basically ‘the winner takes all’, but oscar edition…or, the one where despite yn being the closest to oscar, no one suspects the two to be dating. that is, until a video of the pair at a valley concert comes out. (inspired by the song ‘Cure’ by Valley (bless @renarots for this one))

Pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader

A/N: squadron, it is an oscar day. it took me entirely too long to get to this request, but i’ve finally made it. i hope you guys like this fic as much as i liked making it 🫶🏻

MASTERLIST

ynln on instagram

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, logansargeant, and 92,431 others

ynln happy halloween 🎃😚

view all 3,212 comments

landonorris why is oscar standing like that

⤷ ynln he’s just a boy leave him alone

papayabull MY BABIES THEYRE SO CUTE

dreamyalbon this friendship is everything to me

⤷ formulaferrari not a single thing about yn and oscars relationship is giving “friends” but okay

⤷ dreamyalbon there’s no way they’re anything more than friends though 😭

rizzciardo the way yn’s whole feed is becoming oscar is so funny

formulaverstappen who’s gonna tell them that daphne and fred had a romantic relationship

⤷ ln4nation to be fair, it’s pretty common for friends to go as romantic duos, platonically.

ynln on instagram

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, maxfewtrell, riabish, logansargeant, and 142,211 others

ynln the best mornings ☀️ (also i made oscar the bracelet he’s wearing in the third slide i feel so proud of myself)

view all 3,456 comments

oscarpiastri ❤️

riabish second slide 🥹

⤷ norrisnation ria and yn’s friendship is my favorite thing ever

dreamyalbon yn making oscar a bracelet is so cute </3

formulaferrari another day, another oscar post from yn. i love it here

landosbeachball THE ONLY BESTIES EVER 🫶🏻 the slide of them holding hands omg

f1wagsdaily on Instagram

13,621 likes

f1wagsdaily do you think yn ln is dating anyone on the grid? if so, who? 👀

(left to right) yn and lando, yn and daniel, yn and charles

view all 1,342 comments

norrisnation im so convinced that if it’s anyone it’s danny ric 😭 how do you go to music festivals and football games together so often and NOT date

⤷ charlesrrari yes but also they don’t hang out NEARLY as much anymore? also to be fair, yn’s closest friend - oscar aside - is lando, so it’s kind of natural that she would be in the mclaren garage more, so it just SEEMS like it’s daniel? idk im not convinced that it’s him

formula44 idk i feel like lando is the only one that makes sense

⤷ papayabull what about oscar?

⤷ formula44 idk i just can’t see them together

xf1x oscar piastri (solely based on how much they’re togwther)

⤷ papayanorris lore drop: yn rejected oscar in f3 because he was too busy so id imagine it’s the same now 🤷🏻‍♀️

⤷ xf1x to me that makes it seem more likely since that means they were obviously interested in each other?

⤷ papayanorris good point but maybe theyve moved on? 👀

⤷ pastrypiastri okay but imagine dating oscar and he’s THAT close with another girl, and same with yn being that close with another guy? idk this thread might have put me on the ynoscar agenda 🤭

shumirrari wild guess: jenson button (if you know you know)

⤷ chilisainz what am i missing?

⤷ shumirrari basically lando and jenson button are sort of friends so lando introduced yn to jenson at a race, and lando took pictures of them together. i’m pretty sure yn posted them a while back? idk but it was just a silly guess (her and jenson would be cute though, but i highly doubt it’s them LMAO)

formulaferrari i am TIRED why does no one have faith in the oscyn agenda

⤷ formulaferrari also does no one notice that oscar always is kind of shy around yn or am i actually delusional on this one

⤷ charlesrrari wait lowkey you’re onto something rn 👀

grandprixsandgossip on Instagram

liked by ynln and 24,532 others

grandprixsandgossip Oscar Piastri and Yn Ln, a known friend of many drivers on the grid, seen kissing outside of a concert arena last night.

view all 2,321 comments

norrisnation girl there’s three pixels on my screen that could be anyone

papayabull oscar jack piastri what are you DOING

piastrisgirl never, and i mean NEVER, did i expect that out of all the f1 drivers, oscar would be the one where we find out about his girlfriend like this

ln4world this cannot be real

formulaferrari SCREAMING IM INSANE THIS IS EVERHTINH TO ME

stardustf1 okay but wasn’t oscar wearing a hoodie in the other picture that the one guy posted?

⤷ rizzciardo yes, but i’m assuming oscar took the hoodie off and gave it to yn, because not only can you see her wearing a hoodie in this picture (even though it’s blurry, it looks like the same one oscar was wearing), AND ria posted a story of her and yn goofing off after the concert where yn was wearing a black hoodie so 👀

chilisainz were not gonna mention yn in the likes?

⤷ norrisnation she’s having her pierre moment 🤷🏻‍♀️

ynln on Instagram

🎶 Cure - Valley

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, alex_albon, danielricciardo, and 124,521 others

ynln concerts are my heaven, but they’re paradise when i’m with him 🫶🏻 @/oscarpiastri is my concert buddy for life whether he wants it or not

view all 3,452 comments

landonorris but are you dating or?

⤷ ynln i’m gonna need you to be so fr rn lando

oscarpiastri fortunately for us, i’m more than happy to be your concert buddy. ❤️

⤷ ynln music to my ears 😚

riabish literally the cutest couple i know *liked by ynln*

princepiastri THE CAPTION, OSCARS COMMENT, THE PICTURES?? THIS IS THE WORST DAY OF MY LIFE

formula44 yn im sorry for not believing in you and oscar

dreamyalbon AND WHOS GOING TO MENTION THE SONG??

⤷ yukit22enthusiast AS A VALLEY LOVER I AM RIGJT THERE WITH YOU

formulaferrari THE FACT THAT THESE SRE ALL DIFFERENT CONCERTS OH MYGOD

formulaferrari i can finally call them my parents and not get flamed

papayabull and so whatever you do don’t listen to the song because i’m so upset

⤷ stardustf1 someone harassed(/j) the guy who took the picture of them at the concert into telling them what song was playing when he took that picture and it was cure 🫠💔

⤷ papayabull NOOOOO it’s officially their song, i don’t make the rules

TAGLIST

@renarots @jsjcue @treehouse-mouse @lovstappen @illicitverstappen @vellicora @lokietro @arkhammaid @piasstrisblog @leclercvsx @i-love-ptv @pretty-little-bunny382728 @kortneej81 @elliegrey2803 @marshmummy @spidersophie @stopeatread @minkyungseokie @jellyfish123guts @harrysdimple05 @fastcarsandshit @motorsp0rt @sadieurlady @cixrosie @hiireadstuff

Thank you for reading! All feedback is appreciated 💞

#✩ . op⁸¹ files 🏎️ #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri smau #formula one smau #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 drabble #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #formula one fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 smau #f1 x female reader #formula one social media au #formula one x y/n #formula one x you #formula one blurbs #formula one x reader #formula one fluff #formula one fic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri #op81 x reader #op81 imagine

[verstappen-cult]

You have no idea how happy I am your requests are open 🥺 can I ask you a blurb or head canon with this prompt + Lando?

constantly touching. always finding reasons to touch each other.

Thank you in advance you are a ⭐

PHYSICAL TOUCH ★ LN4

lando barely touched you at first. he was just a shy boy with a big, embarrassing crush on his friend’s sister. but then something happened and all changed.

it started with his arm touching yours every time he was sitting next to you. lando passed it as pretending to get comfortable, even if there was enough space for both of you on the couch. or when he was standing by your side he would take any opportunity to be as close as possible.

or he would take your hand to compare hand-sizes as an excuse to hold your hand.

and when you started to realize what lando was doing, well, you decided to play his game too. you would pretend to be cold whenever he was around, it was the perfect excuse because he never says no to you, and in reality he was more than happy to wrap his arms around you and cuddle or share a cozy blanket.

lando would even hold your hand to cross the street. he didn’t want anything happening to you. and nobody needs to know that your hand, so soft and warm, fits perfectly with his hand.

lando thought he was being subtle but then his friends started to make fun of him for being so obvious. but he couldn’t care less. you never pulled away when he touched you, and that’s all that mattered to him.

and when you started dating. well… lando took every opportunity to be as close as possible. he would casually kiss you, taking you by surprise, just because he couldn’t resist. he would also put a hand on your body, any part of your body, just to feel you close.

every single one of your friends are so done with you both. they’re so tired of seeing you with your hands around each other, and it’s not even sexual. but that’s just how you and lando are.

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱ #lando norris x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 grid x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris drabble #f1 imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris blurb #lando norris imagine #f1 x reader #l

[astroknottt]

nanami kento giving you the sloppiest head known to man and letting you face fuck him.

his hands bracing against your thighs as he moves his head back and forth at a shocking pace, taking you into his mouth with expert precision — the tip of your heavy cock hitting the back of his throat.

nanami gagged and slobbered everywhere, his effort of blinking back tears proving to be futile as his glasses fogged up and rattled against his face every time you thrusted into his mouth.

the frames sat crooked on his face and his vision was blurred, the constant smack of your balls against his chin and the meaty flesh filling every corner of his mouth has him fighting for breath, nostrils flared as he stares up at you with blown eyes.

His usually neat blonde hair was a mess, some of the strands covering his forehead. you pulse in his throat and he can’t help but whine at the dirty wet sounds and your growls of pleasure.

“fuck kento! m’gonna cum!”

his nails dig into the skin of your thighs and he tries his best to keep his gagging to a minimum, you kept your hand tangled in his hair as your hips pick up speed, you’re mumbling incoherently —stomach tightening as you bury your cock further down his throat, exploding with a loud grunt.

nanami’s eyes slowly roll into the back of his skull, glasses hanging off of the tip of his nose as he gulps down as much as your sweet release as he can, white strings of cum and saliva hitting the floor

you held him on your cock, letting the last few spurts of cum paint his gullet, chest rising as you try to catch your breath.

© ASTROKNOTT 2023 !

#FILE : [𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐑𝐒 & 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐒] #top male reader #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen #jjk nanami #nanami x male reader #nanami x reader #🕸️ — drabbles !

[arminsumi]

★ Content : 🔞 light smut, strangers who r soulmates, thigh riding, breast play

Shoko kissing you so hard that she knocks the wind out of you.

Neither of you know each other's names, but you've shared these lustful, needy glances all night. When she passes you in the hallway, one electric look is all it takes for you two to take each other's hands and run off together — totally abandoning the Christmas party.

You two make out like you're long lost soulmates, yet neither of you say a word. The temperature rises into a sweltering heat. Without much other options, you and her climb into the backseat of her car and slowly strip each other's clothes off.

By now your friends are texting you, asking if you left the party early because they noticed you've just vanished.

Well Shoko Ieiri is responsible for whisking you away.

It was fate to meet someone like her tonight. Your spirits complement each other perfectly, nobody has ever made you feel so alive with just eye contact.

Exchanging breaths with you, staring intensely into the depths of your soul with a burning desire. There's the lingering scent of smoke on her sweater — which you'd be wearing by the end of the night after hastily pulling it on to cover your exposed breasts.

Just like so many times, Shoko's friends interrupt her. There's a tap at the car window, giggling voices behind it sounding like a very drunk Suguru clinging to a very sober Satoru.

Shoko is just starting to nip at your breasts while riding your thigh for friction when these idiots show up.

"Shoko, need ya to take us home, please."

She sighs and mutters a deep apology to you, her mood turning sour. Rolling down the window, she glares holes into Satoru who peers right in.

"Oh, did I interrupt something? Sorry." he says cheekily, watching you pull Shoko's sweater down over your breasts. She's just left in her white shirt, chest heaving from the short sexual high that the two of you enjoyed.

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

#🔞.smut #🗂️.old files #smut #fluff #shoko #shoko ieiri #jjk #shoko smut #shoko fluff #jjk fluff #jjk smut #drabble #shoko x reader #shoko x reader smut #ieri shoko #fem reader

[daisyvisions]

Goldfinger - (k.yh)

➺ Pairing: Agent 007! reader x Younghoon

➺ Summary: You left the force years ago for a good reason. But it’s that same reason why you’re back on the mission, trying to catch him once and for all… Goldfinger.

➺ Word Count: 3.6k

➺ Warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI), fem!reader, unprotected sex, choking, hate sex (if you squint), cowgirl, missionary, overstimulation, handjob, oral (m! receiving), creampies, face slapping, guns, drugs, and alcohol are mentioned, being tied up, dry humping, teasing, pet names used (baby and sweetheart), let me know if I missed anything!

➺ A/N: Very loosely based on the movie. This spy fic is not related to the other Younghoon spy fic I did! This is my entry for The 007 files by the lovely @winterchimez. Proofread once, hope you enjoy! Side note: the song from this movie is my fave so it’s linked up at the end of the fic if you wanna listen!

➺ Network & Tag: @deoboyznet @aimeecarreros @snowflakewhispers

You stare at the vesper martini in your hand as you slowly swirl it around, watching the liquid move inside the glass. You were sitting by the bar of this incredible mansion. You have never been to a party like this before.

Everyone was dressed to the nines in this lavish event. Everything from the Hors D'oeuvres to the entertainment screamed luxury, it was like you were invited to a party from The Great Gatsby. As you sip from your glass, you reflect back to why you’re even here to begin with…

Goldfinger.

He was your toughest case that suddenly went cold a couple of years back. To be honest, you were incredibly reluctant to take on this case again, having quit the force around the same time the case went dry and after that incident in Monaco when you nearly died because of trying to catch Goldfinger.

You almost had him that time, almost finally being able to place a face to the name since no one knew what Goldfinger looked like (and he planned on keeping it that way). Out of all the cases you’ve done, he was the one that kept you on your feet, kept your heart running a mile a minute, he somewhat made you feel alive again every time you were close to catching him.

But after the incident you vowed to never go back on the force and start a new life. And that’s what you did. Changed your name, moved to a new location, left everyone you knew in order to truly wipe out that chapter in your life. But sometimes you would catch yourself reminiscing those times, especially the Goldfinger case.

He was different from the other villains, that’s what made him interesting. You knew in your heart Goldfinger was more than just a man loaded with money. He was smart, cunning, and very strategic. In some weird and funny way when you think about it, he kind of reminds you of your own boyfriend Younghoon.

How he always kept the excitement in your relationship since the day you met, how he was the first man in your life that matched your intellect like no one had ever done before, and not to mention how much he would spoil you in many ways that he could.

He was truly one of the greatest things to happen in your life ever since you quit the force. You saw a future with him, a quiet and peaceful life, raising your own and spending your days with each other forever. It was like you were made for each other.

But there was one problem… You never revealed to him that you were once an agent.

So when your boss suddenly called you up while you were watching a movie with Younghoon, you panicked.

“Who’s that baby?” He looks over at your phone, a name he did not recognize.

“Oh! That’s Jacob, old friend of mine from when I took my masters.” You quickly respond. “Let me just take this call real quick okay?” You kiss his cheek before getting up.

“Okay, but make it quick. I miss you already.” Younghoon pouts before turning his attention back to the tv.

You slowly close the door of your shared bedroom and instantly swipe open your phone. At first, you were mad at Jacob for calling you after specifically telling him to leave you alone for good. But when he started telling you why he called and mentioned the name Goldfinger, you felt a sudden surge of adrenaline pumping within your veins.

“We have a really good lead and we’re sure to catch him this time around. It’s not like what happened in Monaco I can assure you.” Jacob says.

“It sounds really tempting…” You answer, trying to keep a hush tone so your boyfriend doesn’t hear you. “But I don’t know…”

“Just one last time 007, please? For old time’s sake?” You hear the slight desperation in Jacob’s tone.

You pause for a moment, suddenly remembering all the bad memories attached to Goldfinger. But there was little voice within you was screaming to take on the job. Not only that, but you had a sudden vision of meeting Goldfinger face to face and finally ending his mischief once and for all.

“Okay, I’ll do it.” You sigh heavily.

As you reviewed the case file in your study, you couldn't help but feel off about everything. Was it really a good idea to take this case again? The case that nearly caused your death? Was it to finally close that chapter or was it just for you to relive your glory days as an agent? You shook your head, not wanting to overthink the situation and just jumped right in with what you needed to know and what you were assigned to do.

According to the case file, Goldfinger had been M.I.A the same time you had retired from the force. No one knew where he was or what he was up to until there was sudden activity popping up from the credit card you had tracked years ago.

While the items that were purchased under the credit card weren't out of the ordinary, there was one pattern that stood out to you. The items he had bought seemed to be around the area where you had lived. When you took note of the dates of purchase, you realized they were at a time when you were out with Younghoon too.

Your eyes widened. Had Goldfinger been around you all this time? So close yet so far away? Was he one of the people you sat beside in the train or passed by in your local coffee shop? Whatever it was, it felt like he was mocking you. How he still seems to be right under your nose even after all these years as well as the idea of Younghoon possibly getting into danger bothered you a lot.

It should’ve frightened you, how your past seemed to cling onto you no matter what you did, but instead made you want to catch him even more.

The motivation you once felt being on this case was alive and kicking. As with every case you got into, you knew you would have to face whatever consequences there will be.

Even if it meant leaving the love of your life behind.

“Do you really have to go?” Younghoon’s raspy voice whispered in your ear as he kissed the spot under your earlobe. His body collapsing on top of you after you two come down from your highs after an intense night of lovemaking.

“It’s a reunion with my friends from master’s school. Can’t pass it up otherwise it will take years for us to see each other again.” You breathe out heavily. Your core throbs slightly as you feel him pull out and his cum slowly spilling out of you.

“Does it really have to be so far away?” He pouts as he helps you get cleaned up with a warm hand towel.

“Paris is not THAT far.” You chuckle, sitting up to grab the water he held in his hand.

“Why don’t you take me with you? Please?” He looks at you with doe eyes. How could say no to a face like that?

“It will be quick, I promise Hoon.” You cup his face and his forehead tenderly.

“Okay.” He smiles, before reaching for your waist and swiftly pulling you on top of him. His mischievous smile already telling you what he wants as you feel his member become hard beneath you again.

“Then let’s make the most of this night baby.”

“Agent!” You snap back into reality as you hear Jacob shouting in your earpiece.

“Wha-yeah what’s up?” You ask.

“He’s here…” Your heart starts racing at those two words.

Goldfinger, finally in the same vicinity as you are. Just a few feet away from you somewhere in this mansion.

“Which one is he?” You sit up properly and adjust your dress, checking if the gun strapped to your thigh is still in place.

“The tall man by the buffet table, talking to the ambassador of Norway. He’s wearing a gold masquerade mask.”

“On it.”

You down your martini before hopping off the bar stool and placing your own mask back on. You walk around the party while you keep you eye on Goldfinger’s figure, making sure you keep a good distance from him. As soon as he walks up the grand stairs and disappears into one of the rooms in the mansion, you make your way in the crowd and follow him.

As you stealthily walk towards the room he entered, you notice the door was left slightly open, allowing you to peek inside and see what was going on. You could see the back of Goldfinger facing you as he opened and a bottle of whiskey a poured a glass for himself.

There he is, you thought to yourself. You were slightly in awe seeing his figure and surprised to find out that he was not the old fat man you thought he might be. In fact, he appeared to be around your age.

While you were lost in thought, you failed to notice a henchman coming up from behind you and smothers you with a handkerchief, instantly knocking you out with whatever drug was laced on the fabric.

You slowly wake up to the sound of classical music being played while hearing the muffled sounds of the people outside the room. As you come back to your senses, you realize you were placed lying down on the king sized bed in the suite.

At first you thought it was all a dream, until you feel your hands tied behind your back and your earpiece missing. You suddenly squirm, trying to let yourself free from the restraint until-

“Struggling will only make it worse 007.”

The deep voice making you turn your attention to the living room across. The same figure you had caught a glimpse of, drinking from his whiskey glass before getting up to saunter towards you. The aura around him was so intense you couldn’t help but just freeze and stare at Goldfinger.

As soon as he got to the foot of the bed, he gently pulls your legs towards him, making you sit at the edge while he slowly kneels in front of you.

“I must say, I didn’t expect my 007 to be woman. A pretty one at that.” Goldfinger says with a sultry tone. You know you shouldn’t have reacted that way, but when he said “my” you felt your cheeks become warm. And the way he said you were pretty even if you still had your mask on made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

Keep it together agent!

“At last, we finally meet face to face after all these years.” He caresses your knees as he looks up at you.

Never in your wildest dreams did you think of your first real interaction with Goldfinger would end up like this. And it doesn’t help at the fact the more you try to see his face under the mask, you could tell that he was definitely a handsome man.

But there was definitely something about him that seemed oddly familiar, you just couldn’t name it…

“Bet you missed me too didn’t you?” You tease back. “It’s been a couple of years.”

“Oh yes I have, sweetheart.” He smirks. “Thought about you sometimes while I was on a… break.”

His hands slowly caress your thighs, goosebumps forming on your skin when you feel his hand on the exposed area of your dress. You try to hide the little gasp that comes out of your mouth but fail miserably. His smile grows wider knowing the effect he has on you.

You were so caught up staring into his eyes that you didn't even notice him getting up quick and toppling over you. His body hovers above yours as his hand places your tied wrists above your head.

“Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me Mr. Goldfinger?” You tease him again. He lowers his head and whispers in your ear.

“Why don’t you take a guess?” His hand instantly pulls out his golden pistol and points it under your jaw. You try to free yourself as much as you can but the weight of his body holds you in place, making you suddenly scared for your life once again.

“Let me see your face 007. I want to see the face of my favorite agent before she turns into gold.”

He pulls away from you and removes the mask from your face. Not even a second at looking at your face, Goldfinger suddenly gasps and drops the gun. It looked like he saw a ghost by the way his eyes widened.

“Fuck this can’t be real.” He panics.

“What do you mea-”

Before you could even ask, he removes his own mask, finally revealing to you his own face. You both stare at each other wide eyed, hearts pumping loudly at the shocking revelation happening before you.

“…Y-younghoon?” you stutter. “Is that you?”

“Baby, what the fuck are you doing here?! I thought you were with your friends.”

“And I thought you were back home! Oh my god-” You cover your face with your tied wrists, trying to wipe the tears forming in your eyes.

Suddenly you remember all the little things that made you feel like Younghoon was similar to Goldfinger. It was like it all flashed before you. Here you thought you were the only one keeping secrets, but it looks like your boyfriend was keeping some skeletons in the closet as well.

Younghoon runs his fingers through his hair as he tries to regain his composure, still trying to grasp at the fact the love of his life happens to be the very person out to kill him.

“What are we going to do now?” He looks at you with sadness in his eyes.

Instead of answering him, you sit up and lunge forward, making you both fall off the bed as you topple over his body this time. He struggles to get the gun near his hand, but you’re able to swat it out before he does.

You hold his neck with your hands still tied together, slowly adding pressure to his throat as he tries to pull your arms away. Tears start to fall from your eyes. You would never hurt Younghoon, not in a million years. You never told him about your life in the force to avoid anything bad happening to him. But here you were, trying to kill him.

You felt so confused on what to do. But at the back of your mind, you knew you had to get the job done. To finally put him behind bars once and for all, even if your heart would be broken in the process.

As you attempt to place more pressure on his throat, your eyes grow wide as he suddenly groans out of impulse. His cock slowly becoming erect beneath you in the position you’re both in, his bulge pressing on your panty covered core.

“Don’t do that Hoon…” You whine as you try to take control of the situation.

“I can’t help it! You look absolutely gorgeous in this dress baby.” His eyes look you up and down, making you get a bit shy.

“And the way you want to kill me right now? Holy shit it’s fucking turning me on.” Younghoon groans again, his member throbbing beneath you as he soaks up the sight in front of him.

“Please don’t make this harder than it already is.” You say.

“But don’t you like it hard?” He smirks, but you instantly slap his face with the back of your hand, trying to get him to shut up but you know it’s not working because you feel him throbbing under you again.

“Well, before you take me in agent, can I at least request for one last thing?” He proposes.

“And what would that be Mr. Goldfinger?” You raise one eyebrow.

“Want you to use me-” He said bluntly.

“I’m sorry?” Your eyebrows scrunch together.

“You clearly have a lot of anger you want to let out, why not use it on me instead? One last taste of you before you send me off to the sharks.”

You felt so conflicted. You needed to stop Younghoon right now before he disappears again (or worse, even kill you) but at the same time you are just as turned on as he is….

“Fuck it.” You lunged forward and hungrily kiss him on the lips. He instantly grabs your hips and makes them roll back and forth, moaning at the way he can feel your wet core rubbing against his crotch.

You continue to roll your hips as Younghoon grabs your wrists and unties the rope holding them together. As soon as you’re set free your hands start to slip to his belt, hastily unbuckling them as you slide your hand in his pants, eager to fist his length like you’ve never done before.

Younghoon’s moans grow louder as you pump his cock in your hand, your tongue snaking its way into his mouth. His hands cup your breasts, kneading them as you both touch each other like a pair of twenty-year olds in college. You both help each other up from the floor and onto the bed, removing each other’s clothes as you continue your ministrations.

You waste no time going down on him, leaving a trail of hot kisses from his jaw until his abdomen before licking a stripe on his cock and taking the whole size in your mouth. Younghoon held your hair as you worked your mouth on him, the sounds of slurping and the way the tip would hit the back of your throat made his eyes roll back in pleasure.

You release him with a pop, giving his length a few pumps before straddling his lap and sinking down on his cock without any warning. You both moan at the stretch, but you start rolling your hips not waiting to adjust to his size.

“Baby, slow down for a moment-” He tries to grab your hips but instead you grab his wrists and pin them down against the mattress.

“Not after everything you put me through and lied about it!” You grind on his cock as hard as you can, using all the energy you have to chase your own high. Usually between the two of you, you’re the one that easily breaks. But this time around, it was Younghoon who breaks first .

“How was I supposed to know?! Fuck I think I’m gonna-” Younghoon doesn’t even have time to warn you because he’s already bursting inside you, the hardest he has ever done in his life. But you didn’t care, you were gonna ride him until he started to shake and cry under you.

“Sweetheart wait-” Younghoon starts to bite down on his bottom lip, trying not to let the feeling of his overstimulated cock affect him. But eventually he couldn’t hold it out much longer as you kept on aggressively riding his member.

Tears were falling down his eyes, he had never felt this during sex before, but seeing you angrily fuck the life out of him turned him on so much he ended up cumming inside you again as you finally reached your high.

You collapsed on top of him, panting against his neck as his cock continues to throb inside you. He was about to kiss your temple like he always did, but you suddenly pulled away from him and sat at the edge of the bed, wrapping your arms around yourself as you still try to grasp everything that happened.

But before you could even turn around to face him, Younghoon smothers you with a handkerchief making you fall asleep from the drug once again.

The moment you’re knocked out cold, Younghoon gets up to grab his clothes, dressing himself up before placing your clothes back on too. He adjusts the way you’re lying down on his bed, making sure you’re all comfortable before tracing his finger on your jaw. Looking at your face one last time and placing a kiss on your forehead before he leaves.

You wake up in your hotel room in a panic, feeling like everything that had happened was a dream. You hold your head in your hand as you feel it aching. You look around to the room and see a tray of your favorite food on a table alongside the pain medication you needed to drink.

You felt so out of it. Maybe it was a dream after all, you told yourself. As you walk over to tray and sit down, you spot a letter beside the drink. You hold it up to see what it was, but your eyes widen at the familiar gold initials at the front of the envelope.

You hastily rip out the paper to look inside the contents of the letter, slouching your back onto the chair. Your heart starts to ache from the many emotions flooding through you, especially with the words written down,

Until we meet again. -Younghoon

#kim younghoon #younghoon #the boyz smut #the boyz hard hours #tbz scenarios #the boyz fic #the boyz fanfic #tbz drabbles #younghoon smut #younghoon scenarios #tbz smut #the boyz scenarios #kpop smut #tbz hard hours #🔎 — the 007 files

[newtabfics]

Bully/Degenerate Itto x Nerdy/Secret Pervert Fem!Reader Headcanon School AU.

Degenerate Itto who loves to bully you. He likes teasing you for being a bit quiet nerdy girl. You're just such a pathetic, meek thing.

Degenerate Itto who only goes to the library to read some manga and cut class. He doesn't have anywhere else to be so he might as well read some comics in the library right?

Degenerate Itto who hears the soft whimper and follows the noise. He hears your voice softly and peeks around the corner. He sees you at one of the tables, head resting on it as you're twitching and writhing.

"Hey. The fuck is wrong with ya shortie?" He asks, approaching you and frowning at your flustered face as you push yourself against the table a bit.

Degenerate Itto who knows the gesture all too well and pulls your seat back. It doesn't matter how fast you rip your hand out from under your skirt, he can see your slick on your fingers.

"Oh damn, Shortie. You're a nasty pervert. Touching yourself in the school library."

He grabs your wrist and pulls your fingers to his mouth. He licks and shivers as he tastes you, licking your fingers clean and smirks at your flustered expression.

"C'mon. My car. I can make you feel so much better than your fingers."

Degenerate Itto who knows how to eat pussy. He's got you laid out in his backseat with his huge arms locked around your waist. He's holding you in place as he slurps loudly, thrusting his tongue as he licks out your orgasms.

Somewhere in the background, you swear you could hear AC/DC playing and want to roll your eyes at the stereotype that he is but instead your eyes roll to the back of your head and you're sobbing and moaning as you grip his hair and rock your hips against his mouth.

His dick is throbbing under his jeans as he grinds against the seat, desperate for more than just eating you out. He's whining and moaning into you.

"Fuck, nerd. You're so tasty. They should make a candy that tastes like you," He hummed. "So many guys would be buying it, hoping to taste you."

Degenerate Itto who laughs and pulls back right as you're about to come and palms himself. He looks to you and asks, "Can I fuck you now? I really wanna fuck you but...shit. Baby, I think I might break your little pussy."

Degenerate Itto who gets pussy drunk and keeps pumping you despite how many times he's already made you come. He's addicted. He's so fucking hooked on you as he feels you squeezing him.

"Oh my fucking god yes, Baby!" He moans, gripping your hips tight as he makes you ride him harder. "God yeah. Look at you. Riding my dick like a little bitch in heat. You're so fucking sexy like this, Shortie. That's it. Milk that cock. Ride that cock cuz it's the only cock you're ever gonna think about again, right? Yeah?"

Degenerate Itto who pumps you full and buries himself so deep, he swears he feels your cervix. He probably was now that he thinks on it.

Degenerate Itto who, after you've come down from the high and he's helped clean you up, doesn't hesitate to get Plan B.

"I mean, it's my fault for fucking you out. I got a little carried away."

Degenerate Itto who asks you on a date after.

#file under: things I've been wanting to write but don't have the mental capacity to write full fics #drabble #headcanons #itto x fem!reader #itto smut #itto x reader smut #arataki itto #genshin au #genshin smut #itto genshin impact #tw dark fic

[sungbeam]

007!ji changmin x f!reader

you're sent to montenegro to infiltrate a high-stakes poker game, but with the world hanging in the balance, it's a good thing m's sending her best employee along with you—agent 007, ji changmin.

▷ genre, warnings. f2l, james bond/007/spy au, action, suspense, pining(?), minimal angst, humor bc i'm me, violence, blood, death, mentions of alcohol, mentions of weaponry, mentions of corruption, swearing, kissing, near-death experiences, mentions of terrorism but not explicitly discussed, the ending is kinda cheesy im sorry it's late and i like making him yearn, barely proofread (dudes it's so late when im writing this)

▷ word count. 11.1k

▷ based on. casino royale (2006)

a/n: this is for @winterchimez ally's 007 files collab! pls check out the other fics that have been posted 😎 also, this is way lighter than the actual movie, so uhm, yeah!

YOU KNEW FROM THE MOMENT you first stepped into your position as an agent of the Treasury, that Kenneth Kang would be a thorn in your side. Perhaps not even a thorn, but a massive pain in the neck, the back, the ass. He was a man with a helm of pomade for hair and an ego the size of Russia, who, for some odd reason, despised you.

It was funny… the last time you checked, an entity such as Russia wouldn't be so easily threatened by someone like yourself. But here was Kenneth Kang, continuing to email you passive aggressive correspondence as if he wasn't butthurt the director chose you for this task rather than him.

After all, only the best of the best were selected to assist MI6 with their assignments. The fate of the world hung in the balance.

You told Kenneth just that in your last (hopefully) email to him for the trip: The quarterly reports are still due on Monday, Kang. Remember that Director Song excused me from them because I'm off to go save the world—ta-ta! Or something to that effect.

It was unfortunate the government monitored everyone's emails or you would've signed off with something wildly hilarious like “Love (if pigs flew), Director Song's Favorite <3 (not you)”—that would stick it to him—

A clearing throat drew your attention away from your laptop so abruptly, you were glad you didn't get whiplash.

“This seat taken?” You didn't catch a clear glimpse of the man's face before he was already claiming the seat across from you. The voice was awfully familiar, and when you finally saw him, you understood why.

You nearly did a double take, but the surprise swiftly melted away like glaciers in the spring to something like warm amusement. “Ah, do I—uh—know you, sir?” You asked, gently folding your laptop closed so you can gesture to the teapot before you. “Tea?”

Ji Changmin leaned back in his chair, eyes darting from the view outside the train car window and back to you. He dragged his gaze up and down your form, the back of his knuckles pressed against his lips. It did nothing to hide his smile. “Tea would be lovely, thanks.”

You obliged, refilling your cup with the hot beverage and pouring a decent amount into the extra teacup and saucer on his half of the table.

The two of you were currently on a train to Montenegro. Less than 48 hours ago, you were summoned into your director's office, only for the head of MI6 (the elusive M) to join you. You were debriefed on a high stakes poker game being hosted by a man notoriously reputed for funding terrorist organizations around the globe. You were told that M would be sending her “best” along with you to be dealt into the game—you were never given the agent's name or identification number.

But now that you were nearly an hour's ride away from Montenegro, it seemed he finally decided to reveal himself.

“Are you sure you don't remember me, Miss?” He asked, eyebrows raised over the rim of his teacup. “I was so sure that I left a lasting impression on you the last time.”

You slowly raked your eyes over the sharp, dark blue suit he wore, the white dress shirt beneath opened up at the collar, his wrist fitted with a watch that glistened in the afternoon light filtering in through the window. He had cropped his hair since the last time you saw Agent 007, M's so-called “best.” That was about two years ago, when there was a joint-branch charity gala and the two of you shared a dance before he was called away. Before that, you reckoned it was likely your graduation from Cambridge.

Time flew, you supposed, and you'd both been busy.

The corner of your lips lifted as you took a ginger sip of your tea. “Well then, you'll have to do a better job this time. What brings you to Montenegro?”

“Ah, business. You know how it is.”

“A truly dull answer,” you remarked. He couldn't come up with better conversation? You expected more from the man who always prided himself on buttery smooth lines. Where was the fun in ‘business’? “No wonder you've got all of that on. You're dressed like you're about to go buy a company.”

“Could I buy your company?” He asked in jest, tilting his head to the side.

You set your teacup down and a smile flitted over your lips. “I don't think you'd ever have enough money in the world for that.”

He chuckled then and ran his tongue over his bottom lip, catching a droplet of tea clinging to it. “Challenge accepted.”

When the train pulled into the station at Montenegro, it was just about a quarter past two in the afternoon. You and Changmin stood up from your cozy two-seater table to prepare to disembark. You rifled through your laptop tote for your wallet, but before you could retrieve your money, Changmin was already dropping bills on the table.

“Is this yours?” He asked, placing a hand on the bag stowed above the seat. It was a duffle bag that ranged on the smaller size with enough room to store your toiletries, emergency items, and any other things you might have needed. You were informed that clothing and the like would be in your accommodations waiting for you—there must have been a strict dress code for this event.

You shouldered your purse. “Yes, I'm traveling light.”

“Same here.” He grabbed your bag for you, and the two of you were off, shuffling down the aisle toward the nearest exit. Light, indeed. He didn't seem to have any luggage on him, but you supposed an agent of his caliber was provided everything he needed at his accommodations.

The train station, at this hour, was rather busy. People bustled to and fro to get to their trains, the parking lot, the ticket booth, the works. Your instructions once you'd arrived in Montenegro were to get in touch with the agent who was assigned to this case, and that you already accomplished. Until now, that was about all you knew, barring the general mission at-hand.

“I assume you’ll be staying at the Hotel Splendide, as well?” You voiced to him as you walked by his side toward the valet at the front of the station. You never knew a train station to have a valet, but you supposed it made sense if there were luxury, long-haul train cars.

“Your assumption would be correct,” he said. “In fact, we’re sharing a room.” The reveal of this information nearly had you tripping over your own shoes, and you were sure you saw a ghost of a smile make it onto his lips. You narrowed your eyes at him as he carried onward—of course, the two of you were sharing a room. What cover did MI6 even come up with? Something incredibly original like a married couple, you’d bet. Or, god forbid, a man and his mistress. (The thought made you gag.)

Changmin made eye contact with the valet boy, his chin inclining toward him. “Afternoon. It should be under ‘Ji.’”

The boy traced his finger down the edge of his tablet screen and his eyes lit up in recognition. “Ah yes, Mr. Ji,” he said, grabbing a keychain from his station and tossing it over to Changmin, “your car was just delivered two minutes ago. Have a nice trip, sir.”

“Thank you.” A rolled up bill was exchanged so fast that you thought you’d imagined it, and Changmin was walking onward down the length of the curved curb toward a parked vehicle. You followed swiftly after him, and upon further inspection, realized that the vehicle he was striding towards was a sleek Aston Martin in a classy shade of silver. It looked like something straight out of Hollywood, the sight nearly making your knees buckle. It was enough to say that all thoughts of you sharing a room with Changmin flew out the Aston Martin’s window.

Changmin gave a laugh at your reaction, opening the passenger side door for you. “You look more excited to see this car than me, sweetheart.”

“Was I that obvious? She’s beautiful.” You couldn’t help but grin back as you slipped into the smooth, leather seat. The interior was just as beautiful and sleek, with dark colored leather and a shiny center console. While you buckled yourself in, you heard Changmin deposit your bag in the backseat before rounding the car to take his place in the driver’s side.

“I can’t say I disagree,” he said, the door slamming. He retrieved a pair of aviator sunglasses from a compartment above the rearview mirror, donning them, then flashing you a dimpled smile. “Shall we?”

Changmin revved up the engine and pulled out of the train station's front lot onto the scenic road that would wind down the mountains to reach the portside where Hotel Splendide was located.

“I haven't seen you in two years, have you been well?” You piped up, now that the two of you were alone.

He hummed. “Ah, for the most part, yes—I’ve been alright.”

“Trotting the globe, I bet?”

“You'd win that bet, for sure,” he mused. He passed you a brief glance, turning his eyes back to the road. “And you?”

You mimicked the humming sound he'd made earlier. “I've been decent. Just work most days; you know how it is.”

He nodded his understanding. “Social life just as dead as uni?”

An incredulous sound flew out of your mouth, your hand swatting his arm to coax an impish smile from him. “I have friends!”

“Significant others then,” he offered.

You bristled in your seat and met his grin with a stink eye. “There are more important things than finding romance.”

“Still the same Yn as I remember,” he teased. “Now I know you're not an imposter.” A beat of silence, and then, “M must have been very pleased with your performance records to have approved of your director's choice. Not that I'm surprised; you've always been exceptional in your field.”

You turned your head to face the window on your side, barely hiding the pleased smile on your face from his compliment. It had taken a lot of hard work to get where you were, and you should've been proud of yourself. “I appreciate that. Though, I'm sure the fact that we know each other might have something to do with it, too.”

“I think that's just an added bonus,” he remarked optimistically. “You'll know how to keep me in check.” That was, literally speaking, exactly what your role here was. While Changmin was dealt into the game, you controlled the amount of money he was able to use or bet with. Because you were the trusted agent of the Treasury, you would be privy to the amount of money appropriate to use from the government's coffers.

“Who knew one partner project would lead to us saving the world together?” He added offhandedly with almost a nostalgic sort of whimsy.

“Are you ready to be a team player this time, though?” You asked, eyebrow raised. “The rumors say you enjoy flying solo.”

“I fly solo when it's dangerous,” he corrected. Which, you guessed, was most of the time in his line of work.

“So you're saying this mission isn't dangerous?”

“A poker game?” He laughed. “The only dangerous thing about it is gonna be how fast I'm going to win.”

The Hotel Splendide was as splendid as its name suggested. The grand, white limestone facade was carved with arched windows and statues, sleek columns and balconies. This side faced out into the waterfront, giving all arriving patrons a beautiful view of the port.

Changmin directed his car into the cobblestone roundabout at the front of the hotel. When he brought the vehicle to a stop, a bellboy in a maroon colored uniform opened your car door for you and offered a hand to help you out.

“Thank you,” you murmured, rolling your neck and stretching your limbs from the hour-long car ride.

Changmin emerged from the driver's side with his keys in hand, speaking to another attendant about being careful with his vehicle. He rounded the car just as the bellboy grabbed your duffle from the backseat.

“Welcome to the Hotel Splendide. This way to the check-in counter please,” the bellboy said, gesturing toward the front door, framed by an amber-toned awning and crowned in a myriad of flags from around the world.

You felt Changmin's palm warm the small of your back as you clutched your laptop purse in your hands. “Of course, thank you.”

The hotel’s foyer was just as magnificent as its outside. A crystalline chandelier hung from the high-domed ceiling, painting the room in a luxurious champagne gold, while the marble floors were lined in a deep crimson velvet. The front desk was to your immediate left with a number of staff stationed behind it.

The woman you and Changmin went to greeted you both with a polite smile. “Welcome to the Hotel Splendide. May I have the name of your reservation, please?”

“Ji,” your friend answered, “James Ji.”

Your eyebrows flew to your hairline.

“Ah,” the woman said, “but of course, Mr. Ji. Yours and your assistant's suite has been prepared for your arrival.”

Assistant? While she readied the key cards for you, you met Changmin’s gaze with a number of questions in your eyes. He only answered with a helpless expression.

Assistant? As if.

For fear of jeopardizing the mission by correcting the cover MI6 so generously assigned you, you reluctantly kept your mouth shut.

The desk clerk pushed a pair of cards across the polished wood toward you and Changmin—key cards. “These are your keys for your stay in room 700. All amenities, such as room service and the spa, are included in the fees you paid while booking. Your luggage will be delivered to your room for you. Anything you might need may be addressed via the phone in your suite or here at the front desk.”

(Assistant? Did you look like a fucking assistant?)

Changmin collected the room keys and passed you one. “Excellent, thank you. Did any mail arrive for me?”

“Yes, sir. A small parcel was delivered directly to your suite, as well as several garment bags. You'll find them in your wardrobe. Is that all?”

With nothing else to be addressed, you and Changmin thanked the front desk attendant and you were shuttled toward the elevators at the end of the hall. It was a good thing the elevator carriage made a swift arrival, because as soon as the doors slid closed, you let your frustrations be known.

“Assistant?” You exclaimed, gesticulating frustratedly. “Out of all the cover options? That woman probably thinks I'm your mistress!”

“I didn't choose it,” Changmin said, raising his palms in surrender. Though, it was clear by his expression that he was at least amused by your reaction.

You rolled your eyes, then narrowed them and crossed your arms over your chest. “What if you were the assistant, hm? Why aren't I the rich lady with a handsome secretary I take on vacation with me?”

His grin was teasing as he leaned closer to you, your breath hitching for a split second. There was a brief moment where your senses were fully engulfed by the smell of his cologne and the way a lock of his hair curled over his forehead. “You think I'm handsome?”

As if the universe could feel the warmth rising to your cheeks, the elevator doors mercifully opened onto the seventh floor.

He leaned away, something self-satisfied playing on his mouth as he returned his hand to your back. “Okay,” he drawled, “say I'm your handsome assistant…”

“I'm never living that down, am I?” You groaned, already feeling the headache spike in your temples. Your eyes fluttered about the corridor you entered; it was just as beautiful as the lobby downstairs, but with a slightly moodier glow to the lights as if not to disturb any of the patrons on this floor should they wish for an escape from downstair's hustle and bustle.

“Imagine if Chanhee found out you'd said that.”

“Don't get me started on Chanhee.” Room 700 appeared in your sight, and you smacked your key card against the card reader before letting yourself into the room. As the lights flickered on, you asked Changmin from over your shoulder, “Have you heard from him recently, by the way?”

Chanhee was a mutual friend from your college days. While he was technically a closer friend to Changmin, you'd met Chanhee through Changmin after your partner project and grabbed dinner together every once in a while whenever Chanhee was in town.

You were already making a beeline to the bathroom when you heard the hotel room door close and lock behind Changmin. “Recently? Depends on your definition of ‘recently.’”

The sound of your sigh echoed as you absentmindedly fixed your hair in the reflection. Train hair wasn't as poor as airplane hair, that was for sure. “He misses you,” you said in a singsong tone.

“Is that right?” He chuckled. “I'll shoot him a text then.”

He appeared in the reflection behind you holding two black garment bags, one in each hand. He'd shed his suit jacket somewhere, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to expose his forearms. “These are ours for tonight,” he said to you, handing you the one with your name on it.

Ah, tonight. “Thanks,” you said, taking a peek inside to see what exactly was prepared for you. Your curiosity piqued at the sight of deep wine red fabric, but you didn't look any further for the time being.

“Are you ready for tonight?” He asked, stealing a glance at you as he brushed his hair back in the mirror.

At the proximity of tonight's events, you suddenly felt your heart rate climb. Before when this was only an assignment, the gravity of the situation hadn't fallen over you yet. But now that it was your current reality, it began to rush at you with the speed of an oncoming train.

You steeled your nerves. You were tapped to carry out this task for a reason. The only thing you had to do was be wary of Changmin's spending; he was doing the heavy lifting. Even if you were about to be in a room with a few dozen other dangerous people.

You swallowed, nodding. “Ready as I'll ever be.”

He pressed his lips together, his dimples appearing in his cheeks but not because of joy. There was a step forward, then another. “Hey,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone, “I won't let anything bad happen to you or to anybody; that's what I'm here for.”

He draped his garment over his arm and leaned against the bathroom counter beside you. “If we both do our jobs right, we'll be fine. Do you know who our target is? Just so you're aware of who to look out for.”

You nodded, “Le Chiffre.” That was the name of the host of tonight's poker game. He was high on the MI6's most wanted list, and tonight was a critical effort to put a stop to his movements, as well as the credibility he had with his clients. You'd seen pictures of this man—the cold of his eyes and the pale scar that disabled one of his pupils—you were well aware of what he looked like.

“Good,” he murmured. “Then you stay far away from him, got it, sweetheart?”

“Got it.”

Though the gravity of the situation hung heavy in the room after that conversation, Changmin ordered the two of you room service before you needed to prepare for the poker game. You figured food in your stomach would keep you grounded and lessen the nerves trilling through you and making your extremities feel cold to the touch.

Dinner shared in the privacy of your hotel room with an old friend was pleasant. You both sat on the couch sectional next to each other, his arm laid casually over the back of where you sat, as you caught up and dined. There was something oddly warm in his eyes… you didn't know what it was that made him seem so clued into what you were saying, as if he was spellbound. You figured it must be the training he underwent; after all, if he couldn't just muscle his way to an answer, then seduction was also a powerful tool at his disposal.

You just wondered why it was seeping into his interaction with you. Perhaps it became second nature for him to be this way—to lean into every word you said, to brighten at the sound of your laugh, to mirror every smile. To make you feel like you were the only person in his world and that you were all that mattered.

By the time nine o'clock rolled around and you were in the bathroom preparing for the game, your nerves had calmed considerably.

The dress that MI6 provided you was a deep wine evening gown that hugged your upper body and cascaded down the length of your legs before it hung just above your feet. The satin was gathered and left to create a cowl at the neckline, and somebody had thought it was a fabulous idea to leave a high slit in one side all the way up to mid-thigh height. (One wrong move and you were screwed.)

It was as if a river of wine physically wrapped around you as a garment for the night.

Though you appreciated the beauty of it, it only served to make you realize that perhaps controlling Changmin's spending wasn't your only job tonight; your other purpose was to distract everyone else. You weren't sure how you felt about that.

A knock sounded at the bathroom door just as you were fitting on a pair of matching ruby earrings. “Yn?”

“Just a second,” you said. You pushed the earring backing into place and hustled over to open the door. “I'm just finishing… hey.”

Changmin had changed into an all-black suit, a classic piece of uniform that was tailored perfectly to his proportions. His eyes were hooded and dark as he drank you in like a glass of Pinot Noir.

A low whistle drifted out from his lips. “If I'm being honest, you might be a liability in this dress.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you said, turning back to return to the bathroom counter.

Changmin trailed after you, almost dumbfounded, like he'd forgotten why he'd knocked on the door in the first place.

You tried to suppress your smile as you handed him his comb. “See something you like?”

His eyes met yours in the mirror, tongue swiping over his bottom lip. “I do.”

Your expression shuttered in the mirror having not expected that reply at all.

Changmin cleared his throat, stepping to your side to fix his hair with practiced grace. In no time, his appearance was complete, and he was heading out of the bathroom, his cologne lingering by you.

When you were satisfied, you turned off the bathroom light on your way out to meet Changmin in the main room. He was by the safe, fitting a fresh magazine into a silver pistol with skilled hands. He felt your gaze on the weapon and passed you a glance. “We can't carry weapons into the room,” he told you, “but it's a good idea to have one ready here.”

You bobbed your head in agreement, though you felt your shoulders tighten.

He locked up the safe before making his way toward you. “Do you know how to use one of these?” He asked.

You shook your head. “It was never in my job description,” you said quietly. “I hope you don't have to use it.”

There was a graveness to his gaze now. “I hope I don't have to either.” Because both of you knew, if it came down to it, he wouldn't hesitate.

The room where it happened was deep in the bowels of the hotel, somewhere below the casino floor and above the core of the earth. To get in, one was required an exclusive invitation, which was the item Changmin had received in the small parcel from earlier in the afternoon.

You and Changmin arrived on the scene arm in arm, your posture straight in an effort to come off as nonchalant. As you descended the velvet-lined stairs into the basement room, you were confronted by a pair of broad-shouldered bodyguards with body scanners in their hands. After retrieving Changmin's invitation, you were both scanned separately for security, before being granted entry.

The playing room was on the smaller side with a fully equipped bar on the furthest wall of the room. The centerpiece was an oval table, barred off with railings for spectators to lean on while the game was played. There were a sprinkling of others here, both players and their guests.

Your initial scan of the room, unsurprisingly, produced no familiar faces—but your arm tightened around Changmin's when you caught sight of the man of the hour. Le Chiffre stood on the opposite side of the room, nursing a coup glass of liquor as he spoke in low tones with another man. From this angle, you could see the cut of his one glassy eye and the angry scar that marred his face.

“Our four o'clock,” you muttered between your teeth to your counterpart.

Changmin glanced over out of his peripheral vision, nodding subtly. “How about a drink, sweetheart?” He asked you, his voice slightly louder than your own.

You gave a small smile, and he began to lead you over to the bar.

As the two of you moved, you couldn't shake the feeling of eyes trailing after you, something akin to spidersilk clinging to your limbs that you could never quite brush off. It was no secret that you were one of the few women in the room.

When you reached the bar, Changmin flagged the bartender down. “A vodka martini, please—shaken, not stirred—and a mint julep for the lady.”

“Right away, sir.”

You looked over at Changmin with an impressed purse of your lips. “You remembered,” you mused.

The corner of his lip tilted upward. “How could I forget?”

With your drinks served to you, you gently sipped on your mint julep. It wouldn't do you well to get drunk tonight; you just needed a little liquid courage.

From your side, Changmin stared out into the crowd, likely assessing his opponents in the room. He made a small noise of consideration that made you prompt him. He answered lowly, “You see the man to our nine o'clock?—”

You followed his instructions and casted a single glance that way. At the other end of the bar stood a man in a gray suit, nursing a rum and coke in his hands as he assessed the room for himself.

“—Lee Juyeon. CIA.”

Your eyebrows flicked upward. “Interesting. Are they after our man, too?”

“Good chance that they are,” he said and raised his glass to his lips. He swallowed the last of his drink and set the empty glass behind him, leaning the elbow closest to you against the bar behind him. “Know how to play poker?”

“I’m more of a Go Fish girl, actually.”

He sputtered a laugh, and you smiled into your glass. “You're kidding. Not even a little?”

“Go fish, Mr. Ji,” you said and gestured to him with your glass. “Do tell though, since your boss seems to have so much faith in you. What's the secret to winning poker?”

You hadn't even realized how close your faces were tilted toward each other until you registered the smell of his drink on his breath and the shine on his lips. For a plot second, you swore his eyes even dared a glance away from your own.

Neither of you backed away from the other and remained in the intimate gray space.

“The secret?” He parroted, cocking an eyebrow. He tugged at his bottom lip. “The secret is figuring out what everyone else's tells are. It's about bluffing and strategy. If you can figure out how to tell when a person is lying, then you're practically set.”

You hummed. “I see. So what's my tell?”

“Your tell?” His gaze on you was hot and heavy as his eyes devoured you slowly but surely for yet another instance tonight. You could no longer ignore the rapid hammering of your heart, its insistent palpitations threatening to expose you to the man you swore could already see right through you.

His lips pulled into a slow smile, the kind you couldn't decide if it really was a smile or a smirk. “That’s for me to know, and you to figure out.”

“You don't know then.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart.”

A hush fell over the room. You followed everyone's eyes up to the man who had summoned the room's attention. Le Chiffre stood atop the poker table's platform with a small laptop seated upon the table's edge.

“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to the game,” he greeted coolly. “We will begin this evening's festivities with an introduction to our security protocols. This device—” he gestured to the computer, “—is fully secured to store and activate all of the night's betting money. Each player will enter a six-character code, unique to them, that will grant them access to the winning sum—should they win.”

A small murmur of laughter amongst the crowd; you didn't find it funny.

“We will begin with Mrs. Takeuchi.”

One by one, each of the players present tonight came forward to input a six-charactered passcode of their choosing. When Changmin was summoned forward, you watched as his expression became a careful, unreadable slate. He strode up toward the poker table, eyes never leaving Le Chiffre and Le Chiffre's never leaving Changmin. You could feel the tension in the room tighten, and Changmin confidently input his desired password.

When he pressed ENTER, you swore you could feel the fifteen million dollars being locked into the pot. Fifteen million was a shit ton of cash. The amount you were not willing to go beyond was twenty million. As long as Changmin played safe and played well, it wouldn't be a problem.

Not before long, the players were all summoned to the table. You sent Changmin off with a reassuring squeeze of his shoulder, and followed behind him to find a space at the railing to watch.

Changmin settled in the chair directly across from Le Chiffre.

The dealer passed out two cards to every player, each of whom hoarded a stack of chips and rectangular plaques that valued up to fifteen million. As the dealer revealed the four cards before him—two jokers, a king, and an ace—the game was on.

You weren't even sure what you were looking for, but the sinking feeling in your gut would not fade the entire game. You held onto your mint julep until it was drained, eyes trained on the cards lying face down in Changmin's hands as he watched Le Chiffre across from him like a hawk.

He was looking for his tell, you realized.

The match was tense. You couldn't pull your gaze away, for fear of missing some minute detail, even if each move made was technically quite large. In the beginning, however, it felt as though everyone was playing it safer, for fear of getting out too early.

The night was young, and it would do none of them any good if they lucked out of a pot of at least one hundred million.

You watched Changmin, who watched Le Chiffre. You noted the way Le Chiffre would occasionally bring his left hand up to his scarred eye… was that his tell?

It was nearing one hour when it was only Changmin and Le Chiffre who had yet to fold. The dealer called for Changmin to make his move, and you looked over to your counterpart as the gears turned and twisted in his mind.

“I'm all in,” he decided, and shifted his entire pile into the center, mounting up to some amount close to twelve million.

You pressed the backs of your knuckles to your lips in anticipation of Le Chiffre's move. The man did not cower, but rather, called his bet. He moved his pile of fourteen million to the center. All in.

“Gentlemen,” the dealer gestured for their cards to be revealed.

They flipped their cards into view—you could feel the scandal rocket through the crowd.

“A pair of jacks. Monsieur Le Chiffre wins. This marks the halfway point of the match; we will return in one hour to resume, with the big blind set at two hundred thousand.”

Everyone around the table, both players and spectators, began to dissipate to find something to distract them for the hour-long break.

Changmin's posture was taut as a bowstring as Le Chiffre pulled his mouth into a sly smirk across from him. “Ah, Mr. Ji. You must have interpreted my tell wrong. Off your game tonight, don't you think?”

A muscle feathered in the agent's jaw. “I wouldn't be so quick to boast,” he drawled. “The game's not over yet.”

You didn't know what to say, but you knew one thing was for certain—no matter what, you and Changmin could not let Le Chiffre leave tonight with the jackpot. And as Changmin departed the table with a crease between his brows but his head held high, you knew what was on his mind, as well.

“Need a drink?” You asked, as he met you where you stood.

Changmin shook his head. “No, I'm alright,” he said, glancing about. He nudged the back of your shoulder with his fingers, guiding you toward the exit. “Let's get out of this room for a moment though.”

You weren't going to argue with that decision, and the two of you linked arms and made your departure.

When the cool air in the lobby swept over you and all the tension in your body left for a brief moment of paradise. It was so stifling down in that room; you were almost thankful to be wearing this dress.

You and Changmin lingered at the top of the railing that looked down into the lobby from the second flood, heads close together. “What now?” You asked him.

“I need more money.”

“I can give you five million, but that's my limit, Changmin,” you told him firmly.

His brows crossed together. “Five million isn't enough to go toe to toe with a guy who just ended round one with thirty—”

“That's not my fault; this is policy.” You knew the world hung in the balance, but while that was his job, this was yours. You sighed. “Maybe I can contact someone about approving more, but right now, five million is our only option. Do we not have a plan B?”

Changmin's lips pressed into a line. “Plan B is hoping he does something fucking illegal in front of my face, and praying that reinforcements come in fast enough to take him away.”

Now it was your turn for your brows to crease. “Why do we have to wait for him to do something illegal? Don't we know he's a criminal?”

“We're onto him, yes, but there has been no tangible proof that he's a corrupt banker,” Changmin admitted tersely. He absentmindedly rubbed his jaw with his palm. “If we could just—”

“Ji.”

Both you and Changmin straightened. Coming toward you from down the hall was Lee Juyeon, the CIA agent Changmin had pointed out to you earlier.

You didn't fail to notice the way Changmin blocked you from Juyeon's view with his body. “Lee,” Changmin greeted back.

Juyeon nodded to you in hello with a warm smile, and you lifted your hand to wave. He seemed decent enough.

Changmin’s eyes narrowed as he shifted so he stood next to you now, an obvious arm slung around your waist. “I didn't know the CIA was on this.”

“I didn't know the MI6 was on this,” Juyeon fired back. He let out a sigh that sounded about as stressed as you were. “I wanted to propose a deal with you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, well—” Juyeon cupped the back of his neck with one hand. “I'm not the most adept poker player,” he confessed. If you remembered correctly, he nearly lost half his money throughout round one—then again, Changmin lost all of his. According to Le Chiffre, it was because he had read his tell incorrectly; you must have interpreted the wrong one, too. “And I figured that I'm not going to be making enough right moves in the second round to even stand a chance against Le Chiffre. You've got the balls to go up against him, and I know you're down a few bucks, so I wanted to bow out of the round and stake you instead.”

Both you and Changmin glanced at one another in surprise.

Juyeon was backing out… and wanted to stake Changmin? Stake, meaning to invest or sponsor him; to give Changmin funds.

Changmin's eyes narrowed. “And what would I do for you in return?”

“You would give the CIA Le Chiffre.”

What other choice did you and Changmin have? Five million was not enough to make a winning comeback; at least being sponsored would give Changmin enough cushion to make some more mistakes. The allyship between your governments was enough to make the CIA taking Le Chiffre in the end seem like a victory.

Changmin exhaled and stuck out his hand. “Deal.”

The second round was no less tense than the first. Changmin entered with more determination and fury than before, and Le Chiffre was no short of amusement and arrogance.

After Juyeon made his official departure from the game, he came to stand by you to spectate and offer insights wherever he could. The game chugged on by for another half hour with bets being placed, drinks being sipped, and money being exchanged.

You watched Changmin reach for his glass again, only to pause. There was a moment where you didn't breathe, and you watched his hand retract up toward his shirt collar to loosen it.

“Something wrong, Mr. Ji?” Le Chiffre asked.

You squinted at him, disliking the sinking feeling that had returned to your gut.

“Break,” Changmin suddenly called out, as he stumbled out of his seat and pushed out of the room in a hurry.

Eyes widened, you bolted after him, leaving Juyeon to wonder what had happened to Changmin.

You called out to your partner as he stumbled into the elevator, and you crashed in after him. “Oh my—fuck. What the fuck happened?” You asked as Changmin toppled over into you, sweat dripping down his face and his skin growing more and more flushed.

You jammed the button for your floor in a hurry as you attempted to hold him upright. “God, you're heavy, man—”

“Poison,” he choked out, practically ripping his shirt collar open, as if it was constricting his breathing. He gasped for air and clung onto you like a lifeboat.

Panic seized you by the heart and squeezed hard. “Oh my god. Okay—uhm, okay. What do we do? Changmin, what do we do?”

The elevator arrived on the seventh floor, and you half dragged Changmin toward your room. “The—the antid—antidote—”

“The antidote! We have an antidote?” You didn't have time to question him as you retrieved your room card from within your dress and barged into the hotel suite.

You deposited Changmin onto the floor as quickly and carefully as you could, hands shaking as you helped to take his shirt off so he could breathe.

“Safe,” he gasped to you.

“The safe? Fuck, what's the code?” You asked, clambering to your feet and racing over to the black box in the wall.

You heard him choke out the four digits, and the safe swung open without ceremony. You rifled around the contents and retrieved an aluminum foil packet with a slim syringe inside. “Found it!” You cried and practically slid across the floor to get back to him.

You ripped the packet open as Changmin's breathing continued to shallow, his skin paling, and his body growing weaker. His left palm had landed somewhere on his thigh—inject here.

“Shit,” you swore, grimacing to yourself before stabbing the syringe into his leg.

As soon as the liquid was gone, all you could do was pray.

But the storm clouds were beginning to clear, and color slowly returned to Changmin's face. You sank back onto your heels, relief and adrenaline coursing through you.

“Fucking hell, that was a close—”

White hot pain flashed through you as something—someone—grabbed you by your hair and yanked. Your scream pierced through the silence, and it was nearly enough to wake the dead.

They were dragging you backward toward the door, and you reached up to claw at their hands, your skull feeling as if it was being pulled into a million directions while being set ablaze, all at once.

“Let—go!” You screeched, thrashing around. You couldn't see your captor, but they suddenly released their grip on you.

Relief was short-lived.

Your head whipped to the side as a shoe met your cheek. Stars danced in your vision, and you cried out in pain—and then you begged. You were certain Changmin was still recovering, hardly in a state to save you, and desperation began to claw itself into your heart.

Your body was hoisted up beneath your armpits and you squirmed, fighting for your life.

For a second, you were sure you heard Changmin call out your name.

You threw your elbow back into your attacker's face, then tried the back of your head—the sound of pain and bones cracking echoing in your eardrum.

“You bitch!” They roared, loosening their grip to feel their broken nose.

You were a mess as you landed on the ground. A gleam of silver caught your eye. The gun.

Adrenaline seized you and you made a mad dash for the table where the gun was stowed beneath.

Your opponent caught your ankle and dragged you back down to earth. There was no time to mourn over bruised knees and limbs, and you kicked your heels out behind you in a blind fury, desperate to get away.

“Yn—”

“Please,” you screamed, begged. Whoever that was—you just wanted this to end. Fear coursed through you as your body began moving backwards and was dragged back to the door.

You dug your fingers against the polished ground, unsuccessfully gaining purchase. You clutched at a chair leg and dragged it along with you, and felt the hand around your ankle tighten—

With all your strength, you took the chair and heaved it back toward your captor. He let out a garbled swear, only agitated by your continued resistance. The hand around your ankle disappeared and you took it as an opportunity to get away.

“Not so fast.”

Your body hit the ground, the back of your head making purchase against stone. This time, you saw your assailant—he was one of the guards from earlier, likely working under Le Chiffre's orders. Blood dribbled down his lower face, courtesy of your retaliation.

“I should just kill you here and now,” he growled and enclosed his meaty hands around your neck. “Won't make a difference.”

You struggled against him, but to no avail. Your windpipe was being crushed and your vision blurred.

You thrashed and scratched and kicked—this was the end. Oh god, was this the end?—

A shot rang out.

Air slowly began seeping into your airway and you hacked a cough around the hands that had fallen away from your throat.

The dead body above you was heavy and sticky, and the smell of iron permeated your nose like a nightmare. You didn't even realize your cheeks were damp until you blinked and tears filled your eyes.

You nearly died just then.

With a suppressed sob, you shoved the dead body off you with all of your remaining strength.

There, by the table, was Changmin and the smoking gun in his hand. He still looked only half conscious, but he'd managed to get himself to sit up with pure willpower, enough to reach the gun stashed beneath the table, and to aim and fire a shot.

The room was quiet for a few moments, other than the persistent ringing in your ears.

Then you let yourself cry—it shook through your body and shoulders in violent sobs.

Changmin's chest clenched painfully at the sound, and the gun clattered out of his hand so he could crawl his way over to you. His hair, his face, his clothes were all dampened in sweat and the empty syringe laid abandoned on the floor. He made it over to where you were, the red of your dress mixed with the blood of a dead man, and held your body close to his.

“I'm sorry,” he muttered against your hair, lips pressed against your crown. “You’re okay; we're okay now,” he promised.

With his strength slowly returning to him, Changmin sat himself upright and let your body lean against him. You grappled onto him so tightly, as if he might slip out of your grasp.

It was almost thirty minutes later that you and Changmin returned to the poker game. With some gentle coaxing, he got you into the shower to wash the blood away, but you couldn't get the icky feeling clinging to you. He'd been gentle, though, letting you sit beneath the stream in your dress as he got onto the shower floor with you to run the water and soap through your hair.

In his hold, he rocked you gently through the tremors. “No one's gonna hurt you anymore, sweetheart,” he rasped. Never again, not if he could help it.

You'd never seen him like that—all the tenderness in his gaze out in the open.

And you'd only seen it when you glanced up at him once; the rest of the time, you tucked your chin to your knees, staring at a tile.

Unnerved but still alive, you entered the room with another clean dress, and Changmin with another clean set of clothes. You returned to your place beside Juyeon, and Changmin went back to the table to face Le Chiffre.

Le Chiffre, however, looked as if he'd seen a ghost. His eyes had widened just a millimeter, but it was enough.

Changmin dragged up the sleeves of his dress shirt, a predatorial-like gleam in his eyes. You almost killed me. Even worse, you dared to lay a dirty hand on her. “Sorry about that,” he drawled, gaze lifting to meet Le Chiffre's, “seemed that last hand nearly killed me.”

His opponent swallowed.

The game resumed.

With the final phase in play, the dealer announced that there could be no more buy-ins. Juyeon had fetched you a drink, which you were most grateful for, and Changmin avoided all beverages for the remainder of the game.

“Everything alright?” Juyeon asked you quietly as you chugged your drink.

“Perfectly.” You handed the drink off to a waiter nearby and smiled tightly. “We were just strategizing on how to murder this game.” You hoped he didn't hear the tremor in your voice.

As the final round approached, each of the four finalists that were left alive were asked to make their bets. Each player slowly, but surely, slid all of their remaining chips into the center.

Everyone was all in.

“Reveal your cards, if you please.”

One by one, the cards in each player's hand was turned. The room held its collective breath as Le Chiffre revealed an ace and a six—a fuller house, with three aces and two sixes.

All that was left were Changmin's.

With little more than an arched brow, he slid his cards apart: a five and seven, both of which were spades. When joined together with the rest, they made—

“A straight flush,” announced the dealer. “Monsieur Ji wins the game.”

Cheers and applause rang out throughout the room as the game finally came to a close. Relief soared through you, and you shook hands with Juyeon at Changmin's success. Perhaps twenty million had been spent, but it all meant that you had won back that money in full.

From your standpoint, you couldn't see Le Chiffre's reaction, but he didn't look pleased. He stormed out of the room only moments later.

Changmin was swift to join the two of you, his hand coming to lie on your shoulder. “We should go after him,” he said.

Juyeon nodded, expression sobering. “You're right.”

“I'm going with you,” you told him. Already anticipating his refusal, you shut him down with a look. Though you might have been shaken from the night's near-death experience, it only seemed to steel over your resolve to catch this bastard. “I'm safer with you; don't try to argue with me.”

He knew you were right—you saw the reluctant agreement in his eyes. He grunted, “Okay, but you're staying behind me the entire time and when I say run, you better run.”

You patted his chest and followed after Juyeon. “Of course.”

The three of you raced after Le Chiffre in the direction he disappeared. He'd gone up to the second floor via the grand staircase in the lobby, but neither you nor the other boys knew which direction he went from there. The second floor was damn near close to a labyrinth.

“We split up,” Changmin declared. “Me and Yn go one way and Juyeon takes the other.”

“Wait, Juyeon goes alone?” You butted in. “Le Chiffre is dangerous and desperate; that combination isn't good for anybody.”

“None of us have any weapons either,” Juyeon pointed out.

Changmin gestured to you. From beneath the skirt of your new dress, you withdrew the pistol from earlier out into the light. After what happened in your suite, the both of you thought it best to let security measures be damned and holster a gun to your inner thigh. And now, it was proving to be the right decision.

Juyeon deadpanned, amending, “I don't have a weapon.”

“Then you should go get one,” Changmin said smartly. You rolled your eyes at him.

“I—shit.” Juyeon huffed in frustration. “Goddamn it. You better hold your promise, Ji.”

“My word is gold,” Changmin swore as you passed him the pistol. “We'll find Le Chiffre; you call for backup.”

With that matter settled, you grabbed Changmin's hand and set off in one direction.

His fingers tightened around you as you stuck close behind him. The corridor was hauntingly quiet with not a soul around. You and Changmin trudged onward and kept your eyes and ears open for anybody hiding behind a corner or waiting to enact revenge on your poker victory tonight.

The hair on your arms and the back of your neck stood erect, heart thundering loudly in your ears.

So loud, that you almost missed it.

You caught Changmin's eyes. Did you hear that?

There it was—it sounded like voices coming from a room further down the hall.

“—please, just a few more weeks, and I can get you your money back!”

A muffled response in return.

“NO! I swear, I'll do better! I have another i—”

You never heard the end of Le Chiffre's offer. There was only the sound of a metallic swish, followed by a dull weight hitting the ground. A body.

Your breath hitched as you and Changmin looked around wildly for a swift exit or cover. There was an emergency stairwell just a few doors down.

Changmin grabbed you and booked it.

Your breath caught in your throat as he pressed you against the open doorway, eyes flickering somewhere behind you to watch the door the voices had come from.

“Do you trust me?” He asked, eyes furiously searching your own.

You didn't have to think about it. “Yes.”

Just as a door opened in the hallway, Changmin cupped your jaw with his hand, braced himself against the doorway with the other, and kissed you.

Your eyes fluttered closed upon immediate impact and you felt your heart leap into your throat. His lips moved gently against your own, as if afraid of breaking you, and his hand moved down from your jaw to wrap around your waist to pull you flush against him.

One moment you were melting into his embrace, and the next, he was shoving you behind the other side of the doorway for cover.

A war cry rang out—not Changmin, you realized—as a body blurred past you and was thrown into the stairwell's metal railing. Your soul nearly left your body, head turning in time to throw yourself out of the way of the incoming bodies.

Changmin brawled and grappled on the floor with a second man, a silver machete glistening in the dim light, only a few centimeters from his throat. The first man was slowly beginning to stand up, and your eyes tracked where Changmin's gun had skidded to the floor.

You swiped the gun up just as Changmin wrestled his opponent off him.

With adrenaline powering through you, you smashed the butt of the gun against the back of the man's skull. He crumpled to the cement—unconscious.

“Here,” you breathed, helping Changmin to his feet and shoving the gun into his hand.

He shook his dizziness away, eyes widened on something behind you. “YN, DUCK!”

You swore, and dropped to the ground, narrowly missing the arc of the first man's machete attempting to remove the head from your shoulders.

You dove down the first set of stairs to get out of the way of the fight, your knees and hands scraping against the cement and bruising.

The man with the machete attacked Changmin with reckless abandon, swinging his blade and striking the railing to make sparks fly. Changmin had no opening to use his firearm and—oh shit. They were coming this way.

“Yn, you better be fucking running.”

He didn't need to tell you twice. You tumbled down more stairs, ditching your heels as you went. You would be useless in this fight, so your best action would be to get the fuck out of the way.

Changmin's breath flew out of his chest as he hit the wall hard, then stuck his hands out in time to stop the assassin from impaling his head on the sword. Changmin drove his knee into his stomach, then threw him across the stairs to the opposite landing.

The fight clambered on down the spiral stairwell, metal clashing against metal, and bone and flesh grinding against stone. Changmin gritted his teeth as he fumbled backwards down the stairs, hitting the opposing wall with even more momentum.

He ducked—and missed another swing; and another; and another.

There was a kick to his gut, and his body went flying. His assailant took a leaping start and charged. Changmin grabbed at his hands again, desperately attempting to wrestle the machete away.

The weapon went sailing; that was his opening.

With pure adrenaline, Changmin fisted the man's shirt and flung him over whatever railing was left. You cursed as his body hit the basement floor with a thump.

Changmin tackled him as he attempted to climb to his feet. With the violent thrashing, Changmin ended up beneath him, his arm wrapped tightly around his opponent's neck, and he squeezed.

The man's arm flopped about, desperately reaching for the gun that scattered onto the floor from all the ruckus. If he could just reach it—

You lunged for the gun, tripping as the man clawed at your ankle to throw you off. You shrieked, swinging the barrel at his hand to knock it away.

When you finally managed to scramble backward, you watched the light fade in the assassin's eyes.

As soon as the man slumped in death, Changmin loosened his grip and crawled out from beneath the body.

You clambered over to him and helped him to his feet, his joints and muscles screaming as he attempted to straighten. He groaned, white-knuckling the railing, “Fucking hell.”

“Are you okay? Holy shit, Changmin,” you said, wrapping your arms around him to hold him up. There had been too many close calls there.

You passed a glance over at the corpse lying on the floor about a meter away from you. A shudder rippled down your spine, and you felt Changmin's hand on your forearm, like he knew.

From up above, you heard the sound of the stairwell door opening. The two of you peered straight upwards as a familiar face peered over the landing.

“Le Chiffre's dead,” said Juyeon. In his hand was a pistol; it seemed he finally retrieved his firearm.

“No shit,” you and Changmin replied simultaneously, chests heaving up and down in laborious panting.

Juyeon blinked, squinting his eyes to take in your appearances. “What the fuck happened to you guys?”

“Careful,” you called up to him, “that guy isn't dead.”

Juyeon jolted and he considered the body at his feet with new awareness.

You threw one of Changmin's arms around you to begin the ascent back up. “Can you—fuck. Is that yours?” You swore for the thousandth time tonight as you peered over at the growing dark splotch of red seeping through Changmin's shirt.

He hung his head as strength rapidly bled out of him with his own life force, and you carefully laid Changmin down on the ground.

“Juyeon!” You called out. “Juyeon, help!”

You heard rapid footsteps in the distance, but it faded to background noise as you ripped open Changmin's shirt and came face to face with the vicious knife wound in his abdomen. “Oh my god,” you whispered. God, there was so much blood.

“Cover the wound, Yn,” Juyeon said to you as he leapt down the final steps. “Fuck, this looks bad.”

“He must not have begun to feel it until the adrenaline was over,” you reasoned in a desperate attempt to keep your head on straight. Per Juyeon's instructions, you pressed your palms over the wound, bile rising in your throat from all the blood. “Changmin—Changmin, come on. Stay with me.”

He murmured something you couldn't hear, and you leaned your ear down over his lips. “Come on, talk to me, love. Tell me something, anything.”

His voice came out, barely there. “I'm… I'm glad I got—I got to see you again.”

And he would see you again. That was a promise you made to yourself, and to him, as Juyeon called for his reinforcements and you clung onto Ji Changmin's life with your own.

When Changmin came to, it was bright enough to blind him. There was a fuckass beam of sunlight shining right into his eyes, and he blinked rapidly, wrinkling his face into a grimace. There was a violent throbbing in his abdominal area that ached when he attempted to roll over or sit up.

Was he dead?

“You're not dead.”

His body immediately relaxed into the sheets he was settled in. When his eyes grew accustomed to the god awful amount of light in the room, he was met by the sight of your face, silhouetted against the sun, and beautiful. “Are you sure? 'Cause I'm pretty sure you're an angel.”

Your palm came over to rest against his forehead, and his eyes fluttered shut. “You must still have that fever,” you teased.

When you both shared a laugh, he opened his eyes again.

It seemed he was in a hospital room—well, something akin to that. It looked more like a small bedroom was transformed into one, and he laid on the bed with a heart rate monitor hooked up to him on the side. You perched on the edge of his bed with a cardigan draped over your frame, and something soft in your eyes.

No, he was definitely in heaven. Maybe he didn't die, but he was in heaven.

Your expression sobered as your hand drifted down to caress the side of his face. “You lost a lot of blood,” you whispered. “I was really worried about you.”

Changmin brought his hand up to gently take your wrist and turn your palm inward, his lips meeting your hand in a butterfly kiss. “Hey, sweetheart. I'm alright now, see?” He intertwined your fingers, missing the feeling of how they felt interlocked in the hotel hallway.

The hotel hallway—the fight—Le Chiffre—the kiss. His lips seared at the memory, and he fought the urge to touch his lips at the phantom sensation.

“What happened?” He croaked out instead, gazing up at you. His heart tugged against its confines when he made out the shape of dark purple smudged against your cheekbone. It was the bruise forming from the guard who came after you, and it made Changmin ache to see.

Hurt, you'd been so hurt.

You shifted your body so you could tuck your feet onto the bed, too. “Juyeon came with reinforcements and we got you out of there as soon as possible. One of Le Chiffre's clients killed him—the guys you fought with in the stairwell. Apparently he'd used their money to buy into the game, and because he wasn't able to win, they killed him.”

Changmin stared up at the eggshell-colored ceiling. He supposed that would have been the tangible evidence needed to convict Le Chiffre, but his client was faster at acting as judge, jury, and executioner.

“M's on her way to meet with you,” you continued, your thumb gently tracing dizzying circles onto the back of his hand.

“To be expected,” he chuckled. He glanced back up at you. “How are you? Were you hurt at all?”

You shook your head. “No, nothing to your extent. There were a few scratches and bruises, but nothing time won't heal.”

“And everything else?” Your mental state, especially after all you went through, could not have been in a terrific place. If he could have prevented you from experiencing any of what happened, he would do it in a heartbeat.

The pure fear that speared through his chest when he thought you were about to die…

He had long since figured out that what he felt for you was not simply platonic. It was more—he yearned for more. Seeing you again after so long just made it worse.

You made a noncommittal noise. “I'll… I'll be alright.”

For a moment, the room filled with only silence and the white noise from the heart rate monitor. You suddenly perked up at something, and turned to reach over to grab an item from the side table. Changmin recognized the small laptop device from the poker game now seated on your lap.

“The money pit from the game was stored in escrow in a Swiss bank. A representative from the bank delivered this to us,” you explained, showing him the screen. It left room for a passcode to be filled in. “To the victor go the spoils, love.”

The nickname made him shudder and he forced himself into an upright position.

“Changmin—”

“I got it,” he countered and stubbornly gritted his teeth through the pain until he was seated against the headboard next to you. He clutched his injury, head knocked back against the wood. “Well? Wanna guess the password?”

You lifted your brows in amusement. “Do you know how many six letter combinations exist out there? For all I know, it was a random keyboard smash.”

He chuckled lowly, leaning his chin against your shoulder. “S.”

We're really doing this? You seemed to ask with the expression on your face. You humored him, though, pressing down on the S key.

“W.”

The letters that followed amounted to S-W-T-H-R-T. You were quiet for a second as you stared at the final combination; you didn't want to press the enter key just yet.

Changmin murmured against your shoulder. “I'm not one for corny messages, but that's a 'sweetheart’ if I've ever seen one.”

You were still quiet as you pressed enter and unlocked the winner's pot. There was no special celebration, no balloons or confetti—just a solid number with too many zeroes for your little heart to handle. Perhaps, in the end, there really was no amount of money in the world that could buy your company. Not if you freely gave it, at least.

Changmin felt his chest lurch. “Yn, sweetheart, say something.” He leaned off your shoulder so you could turn your body to face him, the laptop returning to its place on the side table.

“What should I say?” You asked, your fingers playing with his own in your two hands.

“I'm sorry if the kiss was too much.”

You faltered for a second. “It, uhm, it wasn't too much. I actually thought that it was nice.”

“You did?” He hated the way hope made him feel, how it made his heart sprout wings—maybe he was dead.

A small smile crawled onto your lips and you dug your teeth into your bottom lip. “Maybe I did.” You raised a hand to the side of your face, an embarrassed groan falling out of your mouth. “God, I feel like a teenager with a crush again.”

“Giddy?”

“Pathetic,” you teased. You leaned your head against the headboard again as you looked over at him with the most beautiful gleam in your eyes he had ever seen.

He never understood the romanticizing of someone's eyes—what else had he ever discerned but fear or boredom? But he could hear your laugh just by seeing your smile reach your eyes, and he could feel the warmth spreading in his chest and making electricity zip down his spine from the tenderness in your irises.

He swallowed hard. “If you feel pathetic, then I am literally chopped liver,” he said. A surge of courage, the kind that was a trademark of his reputation, propelled his next words: “I'd like to kiss you again.”

Your eyes darted to his lips and he clung onto that detail as if he were hanging by a thread. “Because you saved the world, Agent 007, you can kiss the girl,” you mused.

You leaned over him slightly and cupped the back of his head, mouth meeting his own in a familiar dance. Even with his injury, he pushed back to meet you, and ignored the throbbing in his stomach, so he could haul you closer, over, around him. Anything to get you pressed up against him.

Real—you were real, and you were alive, and so was he.

a/n: pls remember to reblog + comment if u enjoyed! omg that permanent taglist looks SCARY 😭😭😭

tbz m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @luumiinaa @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @vernonburger @maessseongs @ericlvr @mars101 @moonyswolf @your-mirae @richasdiary @deobi0412 @sunramzi @honeyrecommends @synthwxve @dearly-somber @empire-x @kflixnet

#🔎 — the 007 files #deoboyznet #kflixnet #the boyz x reader #ji changmin x reader #changmin x reader #the boyz oneshot #the boyz drabbles #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #the boyz fanfic #changmin drabble #changmin oneshot #changmin angst #changmin scenarios #changmin imagines

[sunflowernyx]

MSR Drabble: The Little Things

Word count: 350+

***

It’s in the little things.

“Can I borrow this?” Scully asks.

She twists her torso, leaning out from the shadow of his bookshelf to show him the academic text she’d plucked from his collection.

Mulder props himself up on the couch cushions, his elbow becoming an easel support for his chin, so he can better study her. There are two types of mysteries always in his life; the ones found in his files played out in front of him, and the one Scully always poses.

Sometimes they intertwine like lovers’ hands.

“Sure,” he says. “Keep it.”

It’s one of the psychology books from his MA year. He hasn’t had a need for it in years, knowing every word by heart from just a skim.

She rolls her eyes at him. “If I actually kept every book I borrowed from you, all your books would eventually find their way to my shelves.”

Mulder’s smile is a Cheshire grin, lazy and slow to bloom.

“I know,” he says. “I take it as a compliment to my taste in reading material.”

And he hopes that one day he might be able to slip in with the last volumes. Like a cat finding its way home with familiar things, to curl up unnoticed until she won’t want to get rid of him.

Scully wrinkles her nose on principle. “Maybe not,” she corrects softly, turning her profile to him to run a finger across spines on a particular shelf. “I wouldn’t want to keep your paranormal junk.”

Liar.

Dana Katherine Scully is a little liar, he thinks fondly.

She hides it well, misdirects with the way she turns his psychology and profiling book collection into her own private library to lend from. But he has heard her quote enough of his books on witchcraft, alien abduction, and all things paranormal; has found enough of his books on the topic mysteriously missing and mysteriously returned again exactly a week later, to know that she is reading through even the texts she scoffs at.

For him.

It’s in the little things.

But it’s little great things like this, the disappearance of his books, the way she picks him apart through the words on his shelves, in his head, that she gives away she loves him.

#txf #msr #fic #drabble #I don't usually post anything this short but #these types of little observations by them about the other keeps popping into my head so here we are #thanks for reading #fox mulder #dana scully #the x files

[cupids-archives]

ღೀ๋࣭ “shh love,” his fingers find your hair once more, pulling it back to see your tear ridden face, “aww baby, your so adorable” you struggle against your restraints at his comments, crying louder.

he doesn’t stop though. just thrusting into you faster the hard metal of his body harshly hitting into yours, “it’s okay baby, let it out” he drops your head, and you go back to mewing against the pillow, your drool dripping onto the silk pillow. his rough thrusting doesn’t stop, his cock hitting a particularly sensitive spot inside you, making you arch your back wildly, gripping onto the sheets below you. “d-does that feel good..” his voice becoming raspier, almost whimpering at this point as his thrusts start to speed up, losing the careful rhythm. his balls hit your ass, leaving bruises, it doesn’t matter however, the way he feels now. you can’t help but moan out for him. the pleasure in your stomach building up, with one more thrust, your body caves, his grip on your hair tightens and the building in your stomach comes spilling out, soiling the sheets below. his breathing is heavy for a second. pulling out his dick and flipping you over so your facing him. “So, do you still want to leave, or do I have to fuck you again?”

©cupids-archives . requests are encouraged !!

#cupid 🪽 ៹ ࣪ #₊˚♱ drabbles ₊˚♱ #₊˚♱ nasty ₊˚♱ #₊˚♱ yandere ₊˚♱ #₊˚♱ walten files ₊˚♱ #₊˚♱ pumpkin rabbit ₊˚♱ #the walten files #pumpkin rabbit #twf x reader #the walten files x reader #pumpkin rabbit x reader #the walten files smut #pumpkin rabbit smut

[soraviie]

Anguish similar to the one you wrote to jimin? Like a couple's fight, the silent treatment, etc

━ type: jungkook x gn! reader   ━ navigation

━ about: angst!

"Are you still sleeping on Taehyung's couch?"

The question is not posed out of any ill-intent, Jungkook knows Hoseok like the back of his palm — the man was not capable bearing any malice towards his little brother but all the same it irks him and because of it he snaps the reply like one would snap a twig annoyingly poking them in a side.

"Where else am I supposed to go? I can't just kick...them out of the home," he replies, pulling the cap lower so no one could see his eyes. These days he would prefer his face not be seen at all

"Home you two built," Hoseok reminds ever so helpfully and Jungkook hates, he hates how his heart clenches, how his resolve begins to crumble at the mere indirect mention of you.

He doesn't want to crumble. He wants to be right because he is right and Jungkook knows he won't care about right or wrong if he sees you; he won't care that you yelled at him, that you hurt him — he'll just grovel to have you back and frankly, a part of him is tired of grovelling.

Another part is even more tired of pretending he hates you. That there's a single possible bone in his body that ever could.

But pride is a funny thing and it's because of pride his back hurts like a bitch and he's snapped at more than just Hoseok in the span of just one short hour.

"That means jack-shit right now," he mutters venomously underneath his breath and after heaving a long, long sigh Hoseok leaves him be.

Waking up alone was easy, eating alone was easy, Jungkook's an idol, he's used to it. What's not easy is coming home, it's coming back home and feeling a sense of strangeness in his own front hallway. Bam, of course, is overjoyed, you — not so much.

In trying to avoid you, all the quicker Jungkook stumbles upon you — half leaned down over a boiling pot of soup, steam filling up the kitchen like a sauna.

"What are you doing here?" you ask nervously and Jungkook hates himself. He hates himself because his tone is harsh and his face is cold and none of it reflects what he actually feels inside.

"It's my home too," he scoffs thus prompting a chain reaction. More than once had the boys teased him about being in a hive mind, about having his own mirror in you because you're so similar which of course means the second he scoffs, you do the same and any lingering hopes of this home being warm once more are dashed into non-existence.

He finds the bed untouched. Seemingly you've decided to relocate yourself into the guest room and though he has all the right, Jungkook doesn't want to sleep in it without you. It was something intended for you both. He wonders whether you thought the same. Whatever the case may be, Jungkook settles himself on the couch, thinking of the positives. For one, it's much softer than Taeheyung's and two, he doesn't have to stare down one of his friend's weird statues in the middle of the night and be left wondering whether a demon is watching him sleep.

His home, however, is horrifyingly quiet.

And so is the apartment.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook angst #jungkook drabbles #bts drabble #bts angst #bts scenario #jungkook scenarios #file/picture series/jungkook

[rollingsins]

the drabble files, p2

p1 | p2

summary: Four weeks into their relationship, Tara meets R's parents for the first time. It does not go well.

warnings: Tara is Ghostface, mention of violence mention of sex.

word count: 2.5k.

a/n: flashback fic, set pre-all hers. For those who requested Tara being a little shit to R's parents. Enjoy babes!

Tara has been yours for four weeks. 

Four weeks of bliss. Stars behind your eyes when you kiss. Fireworks when you fuck. Four weeks of kissing in school hallways, and shy smiles, and breathy gasps when you let her take what she wants from you. 

It’s perfect. It's all you ever wanted.  

And it’s time she met your parents. 

“Be respectful,” You tell Tara, the night before it happens, “Call him ‘Sir’. And whatever you do, don’t tell him we’re having sex.” 

“Call him ‘Sir’?” She asks, nose crinkled, “What is this, 18th century England?” 

“Just do it, Tara, please,” You beg, “I want him to like you. He’s an old-fashioned guy, we’re lucky he’s even agreed to meet you at all.” 

“Yeah, I feel super lucky right now.” She holds up one of your sundresses. One you’d specifically picked out for her to wear, “I can’t wear this, baby, I’ll look like a choir-girl.” 

“That’s what I’m going for.” You say. You lean in and kiss her slow, “Please, honey. If he doesn’t like you, there will be hell to pay. I told you about Aaron.” 

Aaron was your first kiss. Behind one of the pews at Sunday school. When your Dad had found out about it, he’d pulled you from the classes and forbid you from ever talking to him again. 

Tara looks over at you, stormy-eyed. She hates when you bring up your exes, something you really don’t understand. But it’s sexy, kind of, the way she grips your waist and kisses you hard. Like she’s trying to wipe his name from your lips. She’s possessive, this you already know, but it still makes your stomach flip. 

“Tara-” You squeal as she all but tackles you back onto the bed, ripping off your jeans and spreading your legs like you’re hers for the taking, “You need to try on the sundress-”

“I’m sure it fits,” She assures, pressing her lips to your neck, “I’m sure it’s tight. But not as tight as you are.” 

The sundress falls to the floor, unruined. 

But you, on the other hand? Not so much. 

-

You’re walking a little funny the next day. 

Tara hasn’t really been rough before, but she was last night. Marks on your chest, kind of rough. Handprints around your neck, kind of rough. Aching down there, kind of rough. 

The kind of rough that makes you eager for your parents to like her. Because if this is what she’s like when she gets jealous, you don’t ever want it to stop. 

You wait outside the house, lip between your teeth. Your Mom has cooked up a storm, excited to meet the girl you’ve gushed about for the last four weeks. Your Dad, perhaps unrelated, perhaps not, has been cleaning his shotgun all morning. 

It makes you nervous. 

Your Mom, she’s easy. One of Tara’s pretty smiles and she’ll be sold. But your Dad? She’ll have to work a little harder.

You watch as Tara’s car pulls up, stand to meet her. 

She’s wearing a pair of baggy jeans and an old band t-shirt. You, in your Sunday best, gawp at her from the porch. 

“What happened to the sundress?” You ask as she moves to kiss you. 

She frowns as you retract. 

“Not exactly my style, babe.” She says, and then grins, “You want easy access, huh? You’ll have to work a little harder than that.” 

Her arms loop around your waist. 

You smack her off. 

“Stop it. And don’t make jokes like that, my Dad won’t like it.” 

Tara withdraws, a little irritated. 

“Just behave. Please.” You beg. Tara has a bad-girl aura about her that you’re usually attracted to. But today, you want it to disappear, “Jump through his hoops, make him like you.”

“Why do you care so much about what that guy thinks?” Tara asks, perplexed. 

‘Because ‘that guy’ is my Father, Tara.” You say, “Please, baby. Promise.” 

Tara sighs. 

“I’ll do my best.” Is what she says, and in hindsight, it should have been the first warning sign. 

Your mother is all smiles as you bring Tara in. 

“Oh, Tara,” She squeals, wrapping your girlfriend up in a hug, “We’ve heard so much about you.” 

Your Dad hovers in the hallway, expression blank. 

He offers a hand to Tara, who shakes it. 

“Tara.” He says. 

“Nice to meet you, Sir.” Tara says, on her best behavior. You squeeze her hip. 

“Should we eat?” You suggest. 

Your Mom has made sweet-corn fritters. She shares it around, nudges a little extra onto Tara’s  plate. Under the table, you squeeze her thigh. 

She’s doing so good. More mild-mannered than you’ve ever seen her. And then your Dad has to open his mouth. 

“So, Tara,” He says, and you can hear the distaste in his voice by her name on his tongue. Tara must hear it too, judging by the way she tenses, slightly, “What are your plans for the future?”

Tara waits a moment. 

“Well, I’m going to finish high school,” She says, cutting into her fritter, “And then I’ll go to college, probably. Somewhere east. Maybe Yale, or Harvard.” 

Your Mom beams.  

Your Dad tuts. 

“You have to have pretty good grades to get into Harvard,” He says, eyes narrowed. 

Tara smiles. 

“I’m a straight-A student, Sir.” 

“Confident, too.” Says your Dad. He looks over at you, “It takes more than good grades. And what do you suppose you’ll be doing at Yale or Harvard?”

You’ve known your Dad long enough to know when he’s being patronizing. You shoot him a look. 

Interlock your fingers with Tara’s, squeezing her hand reassuringly. 

“I’m going to study film.” She says, without a beat and your Dad laughs. 

Tara blinks. 

“Film? You’re going to Harvard to study film?” He says, eyes sparkling, “Well, that’s like going to work at NASA as a janitor.” 

“Dad.” You say, voice sharp. 

“I’m sorry,” You Dad says, but he’s still laughing. Your Mom looks uncomfortable and Tara’s staring at him like she doesn’t see the joke, “I shouldn't laugh. It’s nice to have dreams.”

You wrap a protective arm around Tara’s waist. 

“Tara’s top of her class. In every subject.” You say, “Yale and Harvard, they’ll be fighting over her.” 

“I’m sure.” Says your Mother, trying to be supportive, “Film is a very interesting subject, Tara.”

“It is,” Says Tara, relaxing slightly, “I just love movies. I want to make my own.” 

“And you’ll be really good at it, babe.” You say, rubbing her back. She smiles back at you. 

“Not a very high success rate though, is it?” Your Dad says, “I mean, it’s a very competitive industry.”

“I’m a very competitive person.” Tara says, voice even. 

Your Dad leans back in his chair. 

“I don’t mean to grill you,” Your Dad says, “It’s just - tortured artist? They’re not known for bringing in much money. And YN’s my baby-girl, I need to know the person spending time with her is good enough for her.” 

Your Dad’s smile is light. Fake, almost. But you can tell Tara doesn’t like what he’s just said. Her grip on your hand tightens. 

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that, Sir.” She says, pointedly, “Because she’s my baby-girl now. You’re relieved of your duty.” 

You Dad blinks. His expression frosts over slightly. Tara’s tone is anything but friendly.

 Back off, it screams, she’s mine. 

You shift, uncomfortable.  

“Why don’t we talk about something else?” You suggest, but neither of them are listening to you. 

“She’ll always be my baby.” Says your Dad. He points his fork at her, “You should remember that, Ms Carpenter.” 

“And she’s mine now.” Snipes back Tara, “You should remember that, Sir.” 

“I think Mom made muffins, why don’t we get them, babe?” You interject, trying to pry Tara to her feet. But she doesn’t budge. 

“I don’t care for your tone, young lady.” Says your Dad. He’s sitting up in his seat, glaring. Tara’s look mirrors his. 

“Daddy, she doesn’t mean anything by it,” You say hurriedly, “She’s just protective, that’s all.” 

You look to your Mother for help.

She reaches over, grabs your Father’s hand. 

“Let’s cool it down, a notch, alright honey?” She says, voice pointed. Your Dad watches Tara a moment, then nods, slumping back in his seat. You breathe a sigh of relief, and then flash a look of gratitude over to your Mom.

She smiles back at you. 

“Why don’t you tell us about yourself, Tara?” Asks your Mom, perfectly innocently, “What do you like to do? What do you two do together?”  

You don’t have to look at Tara to know the expression on her face. 

Tara’s hobbies consisted of watching movies, smoking blunts with her friends and fucking you. In reverse order. 

“Normal stuff,” You say hurriedly, before she can interject with the truth, “We watch movies. Sometimes Tara watches me play soccer.” 

“Oh, isn’t that sweet.” Says your Mom, grin on her face, “I used to watch your father play varsity baseball in college, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Your Dad grunts. He’s still staring at Tara, who’s staring right back at him. 

“Last girl watched you play soccer too,” He says, voice loaded, “Sarah? Sadie? Whatever her name was. She didn’t last long either.” 

Tara’s hand on your thigh tightens so hard you wince. 

“Tara’s different to Sadie, Dad.” You say, shooting a reassuring look over to Tara, “Sadie was just a fling. Tara’s my girlfriend.” 

“Uh huh.” Your Dad says, unconvinced, “Your girlfriend of less than four weeks.” 

“A lot can happen in four weeks,” Tara says, rising to the challenge, “That’s twenty-eight days of kissing and hand-holding and plenty of other things.” 

Your Dad sits up in his seat. 

“And what exactly are you trying to say?” Your Dad says, his face a little red, “Because if you want to stay kissing my daughter and holding her hand, I’d suggest you mind your manners.” 

“Darling,” Says your Mother, looking a little embarrassed, “There’s no need to raise your voice. I’m sure Tara was just suggesting they’ve had plenty of time to fall in love, isn’t that right sweetheart?”

She looks over to Tara, voice almost a plea. 

Tara smiles. 

“Of course, Sir.” She says, “I just meant YN and I have had time to explore our feelings for each other.” 

The sigh you let out matches your Mothers. 

You manage to veer the conversation back to chit chat. Your Mother tells Tara what you were like as a kid. She asks about Tara’s family, about her friends. And it seems to work. 

Your Father falls silent, pushing his food around his plate. 

Tara charms the pants off your mother, you watch, a little proud, squeezing her hand and trying your very best to to reach over and kiss her in front of your parents. 

It’s going well, finally. 

And then your Mother moves to go get the dessert and everything falls apart. 

Your Dad is the first to speak. He leans over the table, his eyes narrowed. Looking straight at Tara. 

“You’re a real womanizer, you know.” He says, voice sharp. Tara stares. You blink. 

“You’ve got my wife hanging onto every word. You’ve got my daughter hanging off you like she’s a three dollar whore and you’re her gang-banger pimp-”

“Dad-”

“But I want you to know that I see right through you. My daughter does not belong to you.” 

Tara’s quiet a moment.

But your Dad doesn’t stop his assault. 

“I don’t like you.” He continues, “I think you’re rude and disrespectful and obnoxious and I don’t know what my daughter sees in you.” 

“Daddy.” You gasp. 

But he doesn’t look at you. He’s staring at Tara. She swallows, and then leans forward. 

“And I think you’re a stuffy old asshole who needs to realize his daughter is her own person. She doesn’t belong to you either.” Tara says, leaning in. Her voice is quiet. Calculated. 

You want to ground to swallow you whole. 

Your Father leans back in his chair, infuriated. He looks at you, points one of his pudgy fingers at Tara. 

“You’re not to see her anymore. At school, at soccer practice. Anywhere. And if I catch her within five feet of you, I’ll make good use of my new twelve gauge shotgun.” He's so angry, his voice shakes.

“You can’t ban me from seeing Tara,” You hiss across the table, “I love her, daddy, I won’t break up with her.” 

“As long as you’re under my roof, you’ll do what I say.” Says you Dad, slamming his fist down on the table. His face is purple. You’ve not seen him like this since that night after Sunday school. After Aaron. 

Tara grips your hand. 

“Don’t worry,” Tara sneers, “I have no desire to ever step foot in this house again.” 

She leans in. 

“But that won’t stop me from going knuckle deep in your daughter yesterday, and today, and the day after-”

“Tara!” You hiss. 

Your Dad stands, slamming his cutlery to the table in outrage. 

“How dare you-” He hisses. 

“Who wants a Blueberry muffin?” Your Mom makes her entrance, wide smile on her face. It falters as she sees the scene in front of her. 

“I want that girl out of my house, now.” Says your Father, hands balled in fists, “YN, go to your room. You’re grounded.” 

“For what?” 

“Where do I start?” Says your Father, eyes flashing, “Maybe the underage sex? The lies? The disrespect?” 

“The sex?” Says your mother, looking at you, crestfallen. 

“I’m sixteen, Dad, I’m old enough to have sex.” You say helplessly, tears falling thick and fast from your eyes. 

“Darling-” Says your Mother, but your Father holds up his hand. 

“Over my dead body will you copulate with a Carpenter,” He says, eyes narrow, “They’re no good, everyone says it. Deadbeat father. Alcoholic mother. Drug addict of a sister. So what does that make her?”

“You want to find out?” Asks Tara. She’s up in a flash. Her eyes are wide, angry. She’s dropped your hand, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think she’s about to throw herself across the table and launch herself at your Father. 

“Out!” Thunders your Father. 

You tug at Tara’s hand.

“If she’s going, I’m going.” You say, tears in your eyes, and lead her through the hallway, ignoring the spiel of expletives your Father spews at you. 

You’re out the door before he can grab you. 

You’re climbing into the passenger car when you see him running out of the house, red-faced, shotgun in hand. Tara presses her foot to the gas and speeds out of there before he can so much as point it at her. 

Your eyes blur with tears. Tara’s hand grips your thigh. 

Before you know it, you’re at her house. She’s tugging your seatbelt off and all but carrying you into the house. 

“I’m sorry.” She says, and she does look like she means it. Brown eyes wide, full of sorrow. Like she hadn’t wanted it to go this way, “I should have worn the sundress.” 

You nuzzle into her chest. 

“It’s not your fault,” You say, “He can be such an asshole, sometimes.” 

She presses a kiss to the top of your head. 

“Guess you’re banned from seeing me, now.” She says. 

You tilt your head up and kiss her, fiercely.

“I love you,” You assure, “My asshole Dad can cry and scream all he wants, but he’ll never keep me away from you.”

At this, she smiles. 

“Promise?” She asks, her dark eyes a little doubtful. 

You kiss her again. 

“Promise.”

#the drabble files #all hers #ghostface!tara #fanfic #mine #tara carpenter #scream #scream vi #tara carpenter x yn #jenna ortega x yn #jenna ortega #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you

[formulafics]

★ THE JPG CHRONICLES | PART 4

Scenario: in which the grid and fan favorite mclaren reserve driver opens a jpg account, but it isn’t what was expected. this time around, yn ln finally reveals who her boyfriend is.

Pairing: f1 grid x fem!reader

A/N: guys, we’ve made it to the last part of the jpg chronicles. i just want to thank everyone who’s followed along with this and i hope you enjoy 🫶🏻 also paying homage to the pink and orange theme since all of the other parts use that!

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

yn.jpg

liked by logansargeant, landonorris, oscarpiastri, mclaren, and 245,678 others

yn.jpg VEGAS BABY ‼️ mom (my pr manager) said i can’t say what i want to say about the race. she also said if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it at all…so anyways vegas is pretty cool race aside 🥰

view all 5,432 comments

yn.jpg shoutout to @/logansargeant for his first appearance on this account!

⤷ logansargeant thank you yn

⤷ yn.jpg your welcome!!

landonorris caption is real

norrisnation yn speaking for the lando girlies (gn) once again

rizzciardo LMFAO REFERRING TO YOUR PR MANAGER AS MOM

⤷ yn.jpg she is mother

alphatauritaurialpha yn this isn’t a bf reveal :/

⤷ yn.jpg babe i promise the bf reveal is coming. i have plans for it

⤷ piastrispastry YOU GOT CALLED BABE BY YN YOU WIN AT LIFE

racing.news

liked by ynln.official, pierregasly, landonorris, snd 56,782 others

racing.news sources say yn ln is ‘in trouble’ with mclaren team principal due to her second instagram account where she is notorious for posting funny pictures of her coworkers.

view all 2,347 comments

norrisnation so this is why she’s delaying the bf reveal

ynln.official HELP???? IM NOT IN TROUBLE WHAT 😭

mickshumacher @/ynln.official 😳

⤷ ynln.official mick do not feed into this madness you’re better than that

⤷ sunnyshumacher mick and yn may not be dating but i love their friendship so much LMAO

landonorris im crying this is so funny

⤷ ynln.official of course you’re here

mclaren can’t take her anywhere 🫣

⤷ ynln.official ENOUGH

rizzciardo YN IN THE COMMENTS IS SENDING ME THIS IS SO FUNNY

yn.jpg and yukitsunoda0511

liked by landonorris, yukitsunoda0511, maxverstappen1, pierregasly, fernandoalo_official, and 367,891 others

yn.jpg home is wherever he is. ❤️

view all 5,672 comments

yukitsunoda0511 i love you ❤️

⤷ yn.jpg I LOVE YOU

landonorris the day has finally come 🙏🏻

⤷ yn.jpg stfu

fernandoalo_official 👍

⤷ yn.jpg dad approved. thank you nando

norrisnation ARE WE OFFICIALLY GETTING THE BF REVEAL? IS THIS THE REVEAL? IM GOING INSANE

yukitauri WAR IS OVER

yukitauri MY BABIES IM SO HAPPY RIGHT NOW

yukitauri ALSO MY PARENTS ‼️ MY PARENTS ONLY BC YALL ARE HATERS

yukitauri THROWING UP RIPPING MY HAIR OUT YN IT IS A DAMN TUESDAY YOU CANT DO THIS TO ME RIGHT NOW

rizzciardo i expect an increase in content of them. i need it

formulatsunoda ykw i’ll be so honest i did NOT expect it to be yuki but im not mad 🤭

yn.jpg

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, logansargeant, alex_albon, yukitsunoda0511 and 354,672 others

yn.jpg back to our regularly scheduled program 😼

view all 3,465 comments

yn.jpg i am @/fernandoalo_official btw and he is @/ynln.official. he’s just a silly teenage-ish girl

⤷ dreamyalbon YN PLEASE WHAT 😭

⤷ fernandolandoland okay but her relationship with fernando is so wholesome she rlly is his grid child

alex_albon nurse, she’s out again

⤷ yn.jpg 🤺

maxfewtrell this account is my roman empire

⤷ oscarpiastri same mate

maxsupermax we are so back

yukitauri idk about yall but i won’t be moving on from the bf reveal that is my home

yn.jpg @/schecoperez not commenting = hater 😿

thank you for reading! all feedback is appreciated — dae <3

GENERAL TAGLIST | @renarots @jsjcue @treehouse-mouse @lovstappen @illicitverstappen @minkyungseokie @arkhammaid @vroomvroomverstappen @vellicora @stopeatread @topguncultleader @cixrosie @leclercvsx @motorsp0rt @piasstrisblog @lokietro @spidersophie

JPG TAGLIST | @dl-yum @youdontknowmeshh @lighttsoutlewis @kodzuvk @sofs16 @raevyng @p4st3lst4rs @1655clean @judespoision @evans-dejong @leireggsworld @landosgirlxoxo @3joracha @lanando4 @toasttt11 @gaslysainz @sadg3 @scenesofobx @leilanixx @zaynzierulez @flippingmyshit @goldenharrysworld @celesteblack08 @thatoneembarrasingmoment @willowpains @coolio2195 @bey0ndne0 @sheslikeacurse @sadg3 @biitch-with-wifi @torchbearerkyle @plutotcles @cherry-piee (more tags in comments + some would allow me to tag 💔)

#✩ . yt²² files 🏎️ #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 drabble #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #formula one fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 smau #f1 x female reader #formula one smau #formula one x y/n #formula one x you #formula one blurbs #formula one fluff #formula one x reader #formula one fic #formula one racing #formula one social media au #yuki tsunoda #yuki tsunoda x reader #yuki tsunoda x you #f1 grid x reader

[verstappen-cult]

hi! since you’re requests are open and this is my first time asking, could you do prompt 19 from list three, “let me-- adjusts your hair while cupping your face--and we're good to go. shall we? :) "

low key not sure if I’m doing this right but can you do this with oscar or even charles!

PROMPT DRABBLES ★ CL16

FROM THIS LIST ━━━━ "let me-- *adjusts your hair while cupping your face*-- and we're good to go. shall we?”

“baby,” you hear your boyfriend’s voice from outside the room. “we’re gonna be late!”

you look at the time and you are, in fact, just in time. like you need to leave in the next five minutes or you are not gonna make it to your reservation. you take your coat and heels while trying your remember if you’re forgetting something.

“i didn’t know what to wear.” the look you give him is enough to make him forget about being late. “but i’m ready now, just let me…” you sit on one of the barstools to put on your heels.

when you get up, you look directly at your boyfriend before doing a twirl, showing the little black dress you chose to wear for your anniversary.

“should we go now?” you try to hide the grin making its way on your face.

charles looks a little starstruck for a few seconds, but then he’s taking two careful steps towards you, with the most pretty and sweet smile you’ve ever seen.

“let me,” he cups your face, his thumb caressing your cheek ever so softly while he lifts his other hand to adjust a strand of your hair. “yeah we’re good to go.”

you forget how to breathe for a second and the look charles gives you tells you it was exactly the reaction he was expecting.

“fuck it,” you whisper before jumping into his arms, crashing your lips against his.

well, you’re already late, it doesn’t matter if you lose the reservation. all you can think about is kissing your boyfriend until he doesn’t remember his name or where he’s standing anymore.

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱ #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc blurb #f1 grid x reader #charles leclerc drabble #f1 imagine

[astroknottt]

:O

FUCKING SUGURU IN FRONT OF HIS LIL CULT BROO (bonus if the r! is a non-sorcerer, but it rlly don't matter)

# 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 drabble !

“𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐎 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔”, his knees burned and he couldn’t stop crying. his nails hurt from digging into the wooden floor to the point where blood painted the tiles. you were digging him out so deep, his hole clenching and tugging at your cock—pulling you deeper and deeper into his pretty cunt.

“this is your god? the man you dumbasses worship huh?”, his long black hair was wrapped around your hand, tugging back on the locks as your pelvis collided with his ass. his spine was curved deliciously, the robe pushed up to his mid back as he cried out like a two dollar whore.

the group of worshippers surrounded you you both, watching in amusement but also confusion. this what not the man they’d come to love and worship. was he sick? allowing a “monkey” to dick him down in their sacred home?

their amazing leader, tongue lolled out and eyes crossed into the back of his skull, calling out your name like you were everything he needed. like he worshipped you, pleading for you to fill his pink cunt with all your cum.

“look at him!”, in one swift movement you lifted his head while continuously pounding into him, his wetness leaving a white ring around your cock from his arousal and previous orgasms. “taking a non-sorcerer’s dick like a fucking champ”

you were the acceptation. you flashed geto that pretty dimpled smile and he dropped his panties with ease, never did he think he would be getting fucked dumb in front of those who looked up to him. it was embarrassing, but fuck did it make his pussy thump with arousal.

“fuck! gimme more! a-ah oh god! y-you’re so deep ahnn!”, geto drools over himself a complete difference from the non fearing and all powerful curse used these strangers have come to idolize. it sparked talk amongst the crowd.

the lower area of of tummy felt heavy, you were practically punching his womb at this point. touching areas he could’ve never thought was possible and in turn pulling the most whorish sounds from mouth. nonetheless he giggled and begged for more like the proper slut he was.

maybe you could convince him to have this smooth brained idiots to serve you as well.

© ASTROKNOTT 2023 !

#FILE : [𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐑𝐒 & 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐒] #top male reader #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen #afab!character #geto x reader #jjk geto #afab!geto #ftm!geto #🕸️ — drabbles !

[erodasfishtacos]

Madly In Love

* a mini mini curious gazes for hslotrry/something to hold you over :)))*

-

Angelique, Sam, Tasha, and Alice were absolutely shocked and excited when a group of people knock on their door and ask if they’d like to be a part of The Late Late Show with Harry Styles.

They all managed to plan it cool and managed not to disclosed that they’d all went to Harryween Night One and Two plus Love on Tour.

It seems like a cruel joke until James Corden is ringing their doorbell, standing alone before Harry pops out of the corner with a shy smile - clearly following behind the host.

After the shot, all the camera crew pile in to begin to set up - Harry shakes each other the girls hands and introduces himself like they don’t know who he is.

As everyone waits around for it to be all set up, Alice whispers sharply to her friends, “Holy shit. Look who just walked in the front door!”

They all whips their heads to see YN Styles, stepping through the threshold with a iced coffee and Ben Winston next to her - chatting away.

In awe, they all watch as she steps into the living room and notices the girls standing in their little group.

When she walks over, they’re a bit gobsmacked by how gorgeous she is up close, she smells like chanel number five mixed with dark tobacco that most likely rubbed off on her from Harry.

“Hi! I’m YN,” She greets brightly, nodding toward Harry who’s talking to James, “Thanks for letting him use your apartment. It reminds me of our flat right after he lost x-factor.”

“Heyyyy,” Harry manages to eavesdrop, striding over and giving YN a firm pinch to the bum, “I came in third and I think m’doing alright for myself.”

“Third isn’t first,” YN teases, Alice thinks that they’ve had this debate before and she knows it’s going to rile him up, “But whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Harry is giving his wife a stare-down, eyes narrowed and he’s trying to tamper down a smile before crew shouts to get everybody in order.

YN takes a spot in a corner chair that’s out of shot, sipping on her coffee, and watching with a fond smile as James asks the girls questions.

Alice can’t help but notice all the small interactions they have throughout the day.

Harry will go over to YN at random points during breaks where they have to rearrange the cameras and whisper lowly to her.

It usually results in her running a hand through his hair, squeezing his hip, and rubbing her thumb over his puffy lips almost to soothe him.

Harry is so so sweet is the thing but it’s obvious to all of the girls how uncomfortable he is, in comparison to James who has no ounce of shyness in his body.

When he’s piled on the couch with them, Angelique notices how tense he holds himself, kindly putting as much space as possible and hesitating when James tells him to move closer to them.

Harry goes along with what James says, for the most part.

Alice catches whispered words between the couple as they set up for Harry to film in their bathtub.

“James wants me to take my shirt off,” Harry quietly tells his wife, his eyes searching her face, “And I don’t want to.”

YN doesn’t laugh at him or roll her eyes, she replies back - tone soft and understand, “Then tell him that, bunny. You don’t ever have to do anything like that when you don’t want to.”

Harry then leans down and nuzzles his nose against his wife’s, giving her a quick kiss, and asking, “Do you think m’just being dumb? Take my clothes off all the time. Just feels weird to do in this apartment with -“

Alice watches as YN stops him with a squeeze to his bicep, seriousness in her voice when she tells him, “You are not being dumb. It doesn’t matter that you don’t mind being shirtless other times. If you’re mind is telling you that you don’t want to, you need to listen, H.”

Alice realizes that YN must help him not get sucked in by influences, Harry seems so kind and eager to please that sometimes he might have trouble saying no - especially to his friends like James.

“Thank you,” He murmurs to her, his large hand resting on her thigh, “I think we’re almost done. We can go to that pizza place down the road? Then can we go take a bath?”

YN giggles fondly, readjusting his chunky necklace and fixing his hair, “If you’re good.”

“M’always good for you, darling,” Harry replies with a pout but he’s pulled away from the conversation by James.

Alice always had wondered how they’d stayed together all this time and now realizes how obvious the answer is.

They’re still madly madly in love.

#hslotrry #hslot #hslot!verse #hslot!harry #harry styles writing #harry styles #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles love on tour #file #harry styles writing request #harrystyles imagine #harry styles blurbs #harry styles drabble #curious gazes #husband!harry #harry styles husband #love on tour #update