#//i guess you could say distraction could count as a method of calming down?

[mechahero]

@demonsfate asked- what calms your muse down after a bad day? character headcanons (accepting)

It varies. He'll plop himself down in front of the tv or whatever video game console he has in mind at the time. That is his go-to "bandaid solution" most of the time but obviously, it's not a perfect solution. Especially since he's trying to forget the awful day he's had. It's very much 50/50 if it will work or not.

If it doesn't, he usually just goes and takes a warm shower for a couple of hours. It doesn't fix the problem completely but it's hard to completely upset when he's nice and toasty.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Our Darkest Hour: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

Summary: Rolling blackouts cause a serial killer to rape and murder his victims. He taunts the police and even brings Derek into it. The public has dubbed him the Prince of Darkness. Meanwhile Frank is livid that you didn't stay in jail so if he can't get rid of you that way, the only way to do it is to kill you.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

"And out of darkness came the hands that reach through nature, molding men." - Alfred Lord Tennyson

You sit at your desk looking at your phone with thought. The text from your dad was sent ten minutes ago but you're not sure why he's so pissed. All you did was ask him if he could come down to visit you this weekend. Ever since you've gotten out of prison, he's been pissed about anything and everything. You're not sure why. Is it the kids he's fostering? Are they not doing their chores? Is it his construction company? Is he not getting enough money from it? You tap the corner of the phone on your bottom lip in thought.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asks,

"Yeah. My dad is just having one of his bad days, I guess. He's pissed about something and it looks like he's taking it out on me. All I did was ask if he wanted to come down this weekend to visit."

"Does he normally get like this?"

"Sometimes. Usually, I ignore him until he calms down. He'd buy me dinner and we'd talk it out or he'd get me a gift and he'd be fine the next day."

"I'm sure it's nothing."

"Yeah, maybe."

Strauss comes out of Hotch's office, signaling to you that he's free for the briefing. You pass her by on the way to the briefing room.

"What did Strauss want?"

"She needs us in Los Angeles. There was a home invasion homicide last night. Officers found Gregory Everson, fifty-six, beaten, with a GSW to the head. His wife, Colleen, was equally beaten and raped repeatedly."

"She survived this?" you gasp.

That makes your heart heavy. You know for a fact that this woman doesn't want to be alive anymore. You didn't for a long time.

"He chose to keep her alive like an intentional witness. Everything but that points to an organized offender, an experienced one."

"Was she able to identify him?" Spencer asks.

"She said he was white with mean eyes and repulsive breath."

"Rotten inside and out. Did he rape her in front of the husband?"

"Yeah," JJ whispers.

"Oh, no," you sigh sadly. "Poor Colleen."

"I'm touched but one home invasion rarely warrants Strauss personally sending us out," Derek says.

"No, there's more. Ballistics match a double homicide in Downtown LA forty-eight miles away. Three days ago, two women were raped and killed there. Last night was in the suburbs. LAPD's afraid of another Night Stalker."

You don't waste any time getting to the plane. You need to be in LA before this guy strikes again.

"This guy's way too good at this to have just started. He pulled off hours of torture and a homicide without disturbing the neighbors. Not to mention, he robbed the house."

"That could be a habit."

"Do you think he started as a burglar?" JJ asks Hotch.

"If it was just about the killing, he wouldn't bother robbing them."

"How did he get in?"

"Mrs. Everson said there was a noise outside their door. They were outside of their room for a few minutes. When they came back, he was there. He distracted them so he could climb in through their bedroom window."

"I'll have Garcia, see if that MO was used in any other home invasions," Spencer says.

"Victimology is all over the map. He committed three murders and they were both men and women, old, young, black, white, and Hispanic. That's about as random as it gets."

"Randomness implies a lack of predictability. I think that's the point. All the varying people in his message. He wants them all to fear him."

"They will," JJ sighs as she looks at her phone. "The press got ahold of last night's home invasion."

"JJ and I will set up at the station. Dave, you, Y/N, and Reid go visit Mrs. Everson at the hospital. Morgan and Prentiss, the LAPD detectives are waiting for you at the Everson house."

You know why he chose you to go to the hospital to talk to Mrs. Everson. You're the only one in the group who knows what it's like to be raped and survive it. Detective Matt Spicer and Adam Kurzbard met Derek and Emily once they got to the house. While it may look random to most people, Matt has a different view of it. He and Adam are on the Robbery-Homicide task in the Newton division since the first two victims were right in the middle of it. The only things that brought them out to Los Angeles were the bullets and the assault.

No DNA was found at any of the scenes because the unsub cleans up and he cleans up well. The reason the Eversons weren't able to see the unsub when he came in was because the electricity was out. Not because he cut the power but because of the rolling blackouts in LA. The city has them scheduled to get through the heat wave without the whole city going dark. The more people use their air conditioning in the blackout, the more it'll cause the system to overload. These blackouts help prevent that.

You're not sure what Mrs. Everson is going to be able to tell you. You're going to try and make this as painless for her as possible. Her doctor escorts her to her room and you gasp when you see restraints on her wrists.

"Why is she restrained?"

"She tried to kill herself. Twice."

Your heart breaks.

"Maybe you two should wait out here. Let me talk to her." Rossi and Spencer wait outside knowing you've got this handled. You walk inside and slowly approach her bed. "Emma? Mrs. Everson? My name is Y/N and I'm with the FBI." She moans in agony and looks away from you. Your heart bleeds for this woman. "I know you talked to the detectives, but do you mind answering some questions for me?"

She turns her head to you with tears in her eyes.

"Why didn't he kill me?"

You try your hardest not to cry but two tears slip past your eyes. You look down and touch the sidebar on her bed.

"I ask myself that same question every day."

"Were you...?"

"When I was ten." She sobs not only for herself but for you. "I want you to know something, Emma. The reason these men do things like this is because they're cowards who crave power. They leave us behind to watch us tear ourselves from the inside. I know it's hard, believe me, I know, but it won't be like this forever."

"When Greg looked at me... the way he always did. I... We didn't need words. We... He just... looked at me, and we would know." She starts crying. "I tried to be strong, but I... I... shut my eyes... when the gun went off, and... That's the last thing Greg saw. Now every time I shut my eyes... I see him. How long will that last?"

You can't tell her that you still see your rapist's face whenever you close your eyes. Most nights, you're able to push him so far back into your mind that he disappears but you know he's always there haunting you. You want to tell her it's going to be okay but you can't lie to her. That's all everyone is going to do to her. They want to make her feel better but you want her to know what the reality is going to be like.

"I don't think you'll ever forget what he looks like. I don't. That doesn't mean you will hurt every time you see his face. There will come a day when you picture his face and you won't be scared anymore. You'll see his face and feel empowered because you're better than him and he's still the coward he was when it happened. I know it doesn't seem like it now but you will survive this. Survive it for Greg."

She closes her eyes and cries, and you decide that's all you can take from her. You wipe your tears away and rejoin Rossi and Spencer in the hallway who heard your every word. You don't say a word and they don't ask. When you get back to the station, Rossi steps into an office and talks with Derek and Hotch.

"Hey, wait a second," Spencer says before you can go into the conference room where everyone else is. "Do you really see his face?"

"Every day. I'll never be able to erase the look of him with or without my abilities. I believe one day I will come face to face with this man, and I'm going to prove to him that I won, not him. I'm stronger than him and he's still a coward."

"I know you will. I'll be right here with you every step of the way."

You reach up and touch Spencer's cheek gently.

"I know you will."

"Hey, where's Rossi?" JJ asks, popping her head out of the conference room.

"With Derek and Hotch." On the bulletin board are all types of bullets that Matt put on there to compare them all to the ones found at the crime scene. "Wow. This is incredibly detailed."

"Yeah. Matt and his partner are the go-to guys for Robbery-Homicide. The Central Bureau in the Newton division is the busiest in LA." Spencer's phone rings and he answers Penelope's call. "Hey, Garcia, I have JJ and Y/N here."

"Praise the Gods. Los Angeles has a weirdly low rate of home invasion burglaries. I snagged a case in Westchester where a guy violently knocked down the front door, kicked the dog, and took off with the TV."

"Not the dog," you gasp.

"Breaking down the front door sends a message. He's trying to intimidate the victims."

"Yeah, and as horrible as this dog-kicking burglar sounds, I think the guy we're looking for is even more horrible."

"Garcia, this unsub's had practice and a lot of it. Maybe not in LA but he's definitely done this before."

"You're telling me. This is not his first crime party. I seriously can't find a single case in LA that equals this level of emotional destruction."

"We need to expand the search to all of Southern California. He can be in other cities with a quick ride on the freeways."

"Will do," she says and hangs up.

"We're going live on the 11:00 news. Do you think he'll be watching?"

"No, it's already late. He's probably hunting."

"Do you ever look at why this victim, why this day, and why this crime?"

You turn to see Matt and Emily walk into the conference room.

"Always."

"Do you ever think they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time?"

"Sometimes."

"Well, I don't believe in coincidences."

"How come?" you ask.

"Don't get me wrong. It's not like I talk to the universe or anything. I've just always believed that things happen for a reason. It's hard to find the reason for this, though. Utterly meaningless crimes, no obvious motivation. Pure evil."

"Evil can't be scientifically defined. It's an illusory moral concept that doesn't exist in nature. Its origins and connotations have been inextricably linked to religion and mythology. This offender has shown no signs of any belief." Matt looks at Spencer weirdly. "I'm Spencer Reid."

"Matt Spicer."

"I'm Jennifer Jareau and that's Y/N. The media's been asking for you."

"Yeah, well, nobody else around here wants to talk to them. I figure it hasn't hurt me yet."

"They'd like an interview for the 11:00 news. Can we go over a few points?"

"Absolutely."

"Great."

Derek, Rossi, Adam, and Hotch step into the room as Matt and JJ step out.

"Are these the first two victims earlier this week?" Derek asks, pointing to the photos of the two women.

"Yeah. We discovered them Downtown in the morning but they were killed around two."

In the pictures Derek grabs, the alarm clocks read out 12:00.

"Not at noon?"

"No, I dragged Spicer over there around six."

"Both these clocks are stopped at 12:00. Was there a blackout?"

"No, they started that last night."

"The unsub cut their power but he let the blackout do it for him last night," you say. "Where's the next rolling blackout?"

"In about thirty minutes."

You're not prepared to prevent anything from happening so you know there will be a victim dead in her home when you wake up. Sure enough, there is. 

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[ballorawan740]

SCP Scenarios: SCP 173 (The Sculpture) x Reader | NEW CHARACTER

SCP Scenarios Masterlist | My Works Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Rules | My Original Post | Request | Socials

(Don't ask about that GIF)

I did change 173 slightly in a way that he can move his limbs and communicate verbally, so Peanut here would be a tiny bit OC

First Encounter

You both met in 173's cell

For some reason, when you blinked, 173 just stood in front of you

Like, this peanut didn't kill you or anything

It was more as if he was interested in you

He somehow found the ability to talk

Even patted your head to your surprise

This also supposed the whole of the facility since they've only observed 173 spanning everyone's neck and teleporting

And they've never seen him move his arms since he's a literal peanut statue that secretes poop (and blood I guess)

Your feelings for him

You began to realise you fell for him after someone had mentioned how often you visited the statue

Definitely would try to hide it, to begin with (Cuz it's odd that y'all be falling for a peanut statue)

But later on, you decide to drop hints about it to your crush, Peanut

He looked as if he was clueless

But he definitely has gotten the hint way before you even realised your feelings for him

Because you make him feel butterflies

If anyone tries to flirt with the statue, you would become furious (Cuz you paid for this statue)

Most likely would tease you at times

His Confession

Probably would plan it out

Which didn't work at all

So 173 would just do it out of the blue

To which you agreed of course (Cuz y'all need some Jesus! At least you weren't like Clef when he- nvm)

Definitely surprised the foundation as well since nobody has ever fallen for this statue before (Aside from Clef)

Some would give you both odd looks while others were more curious about your relationship

Probably would conduct tests between the both of you

Only because they want to see if 173's behaviour would change

Like if someone blinked while standing behind you

Date

Since the foundation doesn't let 173 out of his cell, most of your dates would be in there

173 would be similar to 035 since he's pretty chill and laidback

You both would be laying on the floor and looking up at the ceiling

Probably talking about a lot of BS

Probably would tell you his favourite method of killing (which totally isn't snapping necks)

You both would tell each other about your day and peanut would joke around a lot

Is rather sassy as well so if anyone judges, you can always count on 173 to save you

Most likely by snapping their necks

Or sassing them out to the point of no return

When he gets jealous

It's rare to see 173 jealous since he's quite laid back and doesn't really mind who you're with

If 173 does get jealous he would most likely snap their neck

Or just teleport behind you and just stare at whoever is hitting on you

Or he would bend down to their height (if they're short ofc) which does are them off quite a bit

Would definitely drag you back into his cell to which surprised the researchers

Because they found out that the cameras were working and they heard screaming coming near/from his cell

Peanut can be slightly possessive of you

Especially when he knows somebody is hitting on you on purpose regardless of whether they knew you were taken or not

Most likely would ask you who you are hanging out with and for how long

When there's a containment breach

There's a 50% chance that he caused the breach

Whether he did it or not he would look for you

As he's looking for you he would snap some necks

Even gave 682 a heart attack

More than once actually but we don't talk about that here (cuz that hurts 682's heart)

Could care less about every other SCPs/workers

If you were hurt peanut would hunt down whoever did it to you

Probably would stroll down the facility instead of teleporting

To which you giggled

The look on the researchers' faces when they saw 173 frolic across the hallway and back into his cell was priceless

You were even there to witness it and everyone looked at you like they've just seen a ghost

Yandere!173

Would lock you up in his cell

Probably would tie you up as well

Definitely would torment you by teleporting in front and away from you

Sometimes would blindfold you

Not even the researchers could get you out

They've even asked 131 for some help and it didn't work as effectively as they thought for whatever reason

If you somehow managed to escape your freedom wouldn't last long

173 would manipulate you to the point that you felt that there weren't any way out for you

So in the end, you just stayed in his cell (probably regretting life choices while you're at it)

At least he's nice enough to let you eat proper food served in the foundation (had to make that clear in case y'all didn't get the hint and thought he gave you smth else to eat)

His younger sister

You're both alike and very close indeed

The foundation was shocked at how alike you both were

And you both were inseparable

So every time there's a breach and they see either of you, they know the other is just around the corner

You both would be sassy, sarcastic and funny

The foundation would be entertained by your remarks

Although you may or may not snap necks like peanut, you do display some form of curiosity towards the foundation staff and the SCPs

Like that one time when there was a containment breach and you leaned in rather close to this rookie and he just screamed as he laid on the floor

He did get quite a lecture afterwards but you decided to just tease him whenever you both meet

When his kid says their name for the first time

Would be joyful af

Nobody would hear the end of it

Like imagine the last words you hear is 173 telling you how his kid spoke their name

Like it took them so long to just get the pronunciation right

Tries to get them to swear late on though

Much to your dismay

173 is a cool and laid back type of dad so you wouldn't have to worry too much when you're away

Unless it's about being a good influence then you should (Not that it matters anyway...)

Probably would teleport to whoever/whatever just tp tell them about it

Even bothered 682 to the point that the lizard begged the foundation researchers to remove either of them

When his S/O is angry

Would run/teleport 10000000000000000000 miles away

Especially if you're mad at him

Probably because he broke your favourite cup and didn't tell you about it because he know that your best friend gave it to you as a gift (Don't say y'all don't have friends)

Would try to calm you down after a while though

Which didn't work too well because you still wanted to rip his head off

If it was somebody else who made you mad he would probably be entertained

Unless it affects himself of course

Probably would try to hold you back and get you to calm down

In which you wanted to rip off his head as well which ended so well for peanut

If 173 cant run anywhere he would just hide in the corner and cry

Probably would as the researchers for some help as well

They don't because they don't want to die either

When someone tries to steal you away

When peanut finds out he would hunt down whoever tried to steal you without hesitation

Would snap his neck and everyone else who were involved or knows about it

Takes you back to his cell

Checks if you were hurt even though you were looking at the kidnapper's @ss

Would try to stay by your side at all times even though he knows he can't

Stares at the researchers every time they talk to you

If it was a D-class they would die in an instant

Has a burning hatred for certain kinds of people

When his Pregnant!S/O gets hurt by accident

Cries without a doubt

Would bandage you up without a doubt

Would cheer you up by doing weird dances and impressions

Most likely would tell you off as well but your puppy eyes get to him

So he would just take that back and just baby you

Would kneel down to talk to the unborn child about your bad behaviour

You swore you felt it kick

173 would get all excited and more protective than usual

Wouldn't let anyone near you unless you were going into labourr

Meeting a Fem!Dragon!Hybrid!Reader

Would be quite curious about you

Finds you rather cute because you're so pure, kind and small

Wants to adopt you without a doubt

The researchers would have mixed feelings about you being in the same cell as 173

Peanut was lowkey terrified when you breathed fire

Was somewhat ok with you crying lava and levitating objects for a bit

Somehow managed to get 343 and/or Scarlet King to help you improve your telekinesis

Definitely would play hide and seek with you and some others

They don't get a say otherwise peanut would snap their necks

When he accidentally kills you

It was when some guy unintentionally pushed you which angered 173

Like he teleported to him and his friends

You tried to explain but 173 didn't listen so he proceeds to snap everyone's necks

Trying your best to defend the poor guy, you stepped in front of them which lead to 173 snapping your neck as well

The guy was shocked but managed to run before anything happened

Word got around that 173 had snapped your neck and was now permanently depressed

Like, he stopped snapping everyone's neck for quite sometime

Felt so guilty that he went to 049 to see if he can fix you

But he wasn't able to so he went to SK and God

They were transported to another facility so they weren't able to do much for this statue

Yandere!173 x Evil!Reader

Not as dense as some of the other SCPs but 173 wouldn't have guessed that you worked for another GOI other than the foundation

Since you used your knowledge of 173 to your advantage, 173 would find out rather late

173 found out who you were working with since the late arrival of the Black Queen came by to collect you

173 would try and kidnap you back into his cell at the Foundation but failed miserably

Would try and warn the foundation but they couldn't get you back either

Since you were with the Black Queen, 173 was plotting to get you back without any distraction

The foundation realised how dangerous 173 has become and isolated him far from the other SCPs

At times, the foundation would use your name in order to get 173 to work with them which worked 50% of the times

Trying McDonald's Sprite

Would be confused about this 'Sprite' from McDonald's since he doesn't eat or drink anyways

173 would be rather curious about this beverage and does give it a try

Finds it tasty and you soon realise he has officially become a sweet tooth

Was probably a mistake but if you ever needed to bribe 173, get him some Sprite that's specifically from McDonald's

Like that one time you bought him Sprite from Tesco's, he said it tasted more disgusting and refused to finish the drink

You should probably give him some apple pies, pancakes and some other sweet stuff from McDonald's

Sometimes the foundation would even give him some Sprite whenever the cleaners are cleaning his cell

Would find it amusing that the only way to get him to stop snapping necks are Sprite

When his kids swear

Would 100% be ok with it

173 probably is the one who taught his child to swear

Probably would let them drink alcohol at a young age as well

Maybe around their teenage years, but would let them try a sip if they're under 10

Wouldn't even be mad if his kid swears accidentally

Peanut would most likely encourage it

Doesn't mind if his kid swears at others, but the others would probably complain

When Child!Reader scares him

Wouldn't be hard to scare 173 tbh because you're so small

You'd be running around and giggling while doing whatever

Until there's some silence

173 would probably brush it off at first until he didn't hear a sound for 20 minutes

Does check around his cell to make sure you're still there

Panics because he can't see you

Until he turns around and had a full-on heart attack because you jumped on him

The researchers definitely hear a screech coming from his cell

They all started laughing once they found out

When the reader pole dances/aerial silk dances

Very similar to 035

Would be in awe of you dancing for him

If you were pole dancing he would probably watch you with those eyes~

Most likely end up in you both performing in another activity

If you were aerial silk dancing, 173 would probably be amazed

Would try and dance with you but fails terribly

Because he keeps dropping like dead flies

Most likely broke his back

Sometimes the researchers wonder how it's even possible for 173 to break his "bones"

Having a Pregnant!S/O

Would crack a lot of dad jokes here and there

Follows wherever you go

Rubs your belly whenever he can

Definitely would make a full conversation with the unborn child

Sometimes would read stories that do make you feel sleepy

Does whatever you tell him to do

Cracks some necks if he can't give you what you need

Would cry whenever you have your mood swings

During labour, you grabbed his arm so hard that it almost broke him

When you try to commit suicide

Would teleport to your side at an instant

Wouldn't let you out of his sight ever again

173 would try to cheer you up which may or may not work

Definitely would kill whoever made you feel this way if any

Make you stay in his cell for a while

Maybe even permanently

Wouldnt let anyone touch you

If you had any scars 173 would cry

Peanut would try his best to stop you from feeling that way

Having a Hopelessly Romantic/Easily flustered GN!Reader

Would definitely tease you

173 would find it adorable that you fluster easily and is hopelessly romantic

I'd say he's pretty hopelessly romantic to a certain degree

Will kill if anyone teases you

Because your adorable flushed look is only reserved for him

Although he would tell all the other SCPs about you

049 and 035 get it the hardest but 035 is completely fine with it

049 would rather just stay in his cell than to hear 173 talk about you for 200 hours

Probably knows more about you than peanut himself

173 would boop your snoot whenever you have that cute look

When you're about to be executed - Yandere!173 x D-Class!Reader

173 would snap everyone's neck and kidnap you back to his cell

If anyone ever mentions your name, 173 would instantly snap their necks

And if they ever tried to find you, he would know and would hide you somewhere else

If you ever tried to flee, 173 would teleport to your side and bribe you to stay 'home'

By bribe, I mean he would force you to return by teleporting the both of you

If anyone sees the both of you, 173 would stalk them to no end

Would torture them if they were to tell the foundation about this

Not even the other SCPs could help

When you curl up in their lap

Would find you the cutest thing on Earth

Aside from 999 of course

If he's exhausted from doing nothing, he would probably just rub your head/back

Definitely would tickle you whenever he can

Finds it comforting when you do curl up in his lap

Thinks that you're so cute to the point that he would kill for you

When you kiss his neck

10000000000000% loves it

Would definitely be vocal because he has no shame

Most likely would ask you to do it again

Even if you were in the middle of talking to someone and they hear him

If you were in the mood, you could tease him with neck kisses for hours on end

Probably would ask you to move on to the next activity but you know he loves being teased

Then after that go back to cuddling

173 would scream but the last time that happened the whole foundation went deaf and you gave him the cold shoulder for a while

Definitely cried about that so he tries to restrain himself

But you feel bad so you just carried on

[thebeautyoffanfics]

i respect you so much for carrying the tbhk fandom with your fics,,, im inlove with them all. may i request hcs about teru who pines for a gn!reader, and the reader knows about this, it's just that they're a huge tease and likes to attempt in making teru flustered even for once. and to add a not so plot twist, reader actually also likes him ughtjgj

teru minamoto x gn!reader

a/n: aaaaaaah but i respect you so much for enjoying both tbhk and requesting,,,,, thank you so so much, that made me smile so hard- and! Sure thing! Hehe, this really was fun to write- so!! Thank you so much for requesting, I really hope this turned out alright!!!! <3

aaaah if only I had Teru Minamoto pining after me to look forward to in school,,, sob /lh

warnings: none <3

word count: 1,023

Teru Minamoto is usually the tease- when the roles are reversed like this, though he’s mainly good at keeping his calm, on the inside he has no idea what to do.

“(Y/N), good morning. You look lovely for it being so early.”

“Do I? Is this implying that I usually look bad in the morning? But thaaanks~.”

“I- no? Absolutely not. It’s just a surprise to see such a charming face this early.”

“This almost feels derogatory to our classmates. Buuuuut, thaaaanks~.”

“That’s not what I-”

Alas, (Y/N) is already sitting down at their desk, investing themself into another conversation.

Honestly, your constant teasing and ignoring his flirts make him only that much more interested in you. He’ll try not to show it, but it just makes him want to try harder to move your heart. And yet… why was his heart the one doing flips-?

“(Y/N), you styled your hair differently,” He spoke, gently touching the side of your face. His touch was barely there, knowing that touching anyone was a certain stretch, but after being friends for the time you two had- he hoped he wasn’t making you uncomfortable, but he was sure you’d let him know what your boundaries were. “It looks great.”

“Does it? But, no matter how much I change my hair, yours is always the same… it’s kind of messy, Teru. Kou’s messy hair is cute, since he’s rowdy, but I’m not sure it’s the best look for the school’s prince. I’ll buy you a hairbrush if you want?”

“...ah- actually, my hair seems to fall like this no matter how I brush it.”

“That certainly makes sense. Have a lovely day, Teru!”

Even if it was a slight insult, Teru would find himself sighing with a smile on his face at the thought of that interaction. It was things like that- his attempts at complimenting you, wanting nothing more than to see you blush, then having you turn the tables on him. Though he tried to turn them back, you always seemed to have the last word… really, it was something.

“Say, Teru, why on earth are you so focused on me? This is study hall, but the studying is meant to be done on the books, not on your cute classmate.”

“Oh. Sorry, (Y/N), I’m afraid it’s just as you said. I must have gotten distracted~.”

Teru certainly had a way with words… but! You did to, in a way-

“No worries, I understand. Staring is rude though, except for maybe on dates,” You paused, offering him a teasing smile, then laughing rather loudly. You covered your mouth, an action Teru found rather cute, then spoke again.

“Kidding, of course. I’m sure our princely President wouldn’t be interested in a peasant such as myself! How silly, isn’t it?”

“Silly? Is it now? Because, I’d say my feelings towards you are anything but silly.”

“Then, why don’t you try a bit more of a direct method?”

You leaned forward, the smile never leaving your face- a little too close, just close enough, then leaning back as you stood up. You glanced at him secretly, trying to play it off like you weren’t interested in looking at him- getting a glimpse at the very slight pink dusting his face. “Nooo, what a reputation killer that would be. Who am I kidding? Plus, where’s the guarantee that I’m interested? Maybe persistent charmers such as yourself are too far off my radar, there’s no telling~.”

At that point, your relationship with him would stray further into “Akane and Aoi” territory. Akane’s confessions being constantly rejected by Aoi- Teru’s flirts and romantic implications being constantly pushed away by you. Both you and Aoi doing it with a smile, both Akane and Teru finding the strange game of cat and mouse entertaining.

“(Y/N)... when you smile like that, it’s almost like those dreary clouds move away, letting the sunshine into the room.”

“Hmm… how cheesy! 1 point!”

“One-? No, never mind that, are my confessions really going to be counted with points? You’re taking me so lightly, (Y/N).”

You laughed lightly, shrugging as you did so. “If you’re going to be so relentless, I guess I can take tips from Aoi and make it more like a game show~.”

“I’m being downgraded to Akane? You kill me,” Teru sighed, bringing a hand to his head dramatically.

It really is entertaining- Teru flirting with you constantly, sure, but… when you flirted with him? It was such a surprise? Every single time? He grew so used to you passing off his flirts, barely acknowledging them, that when you countered with a compliment he would be as caught off guard as you could catch him.

“You’re so cute, (Y/N)... I’ve never seen someone so happy to win a silly game.”

“Why thank you. But, I think I’m so happy, because a cutie like you was cheering me on! Your charming voice was my encouragement~. Unfortunately, I need to go now though. Catch you later, Teru!”

Teru genuinely didn’t even have the chance to say goodbye to you. By the time your words were processed, you were out of sight, leaving a red to settle into his face. Never had he been so flustered- you would have done most anything to see it, you knew, but you would settle for knowing that you had to have some effect on him.

That was the day he knew he’d step his flirting game up a notch! The next day, after school, he caught you for a moment- it was that day he properly confessed his feelings. He was half expecting it, but-

“Like? Ohh, you have a crush on me? Cute! Thanks for letting me know, sweetheart~ but, you’ll have to try a little harder to win my heart. I look forward to your attempts to swoon me?”

“...” Teru sighed, a smile threatening to spread across his face, “I have a good feeling that you like me as well. But, if what you want are these endless confessions, then so be it. I look forward to swaying your heart further.”

[elentiyawhitethorn]

feysand blind date

Loving Every Second of It

Fluff//3010 words

Feyre wasn’t sure what she was expecting tonight.

Lucien had set her up on a blind date with a friend of a friend and there was no way it wasn’t going to end miserably. Maybe Feyre would say something stupid and he would think she was weird. Maybe he would decide she wasn’t pretty enough or her clothes weren’t nice or she was just boring. Maybe some other woman who was everything she would never be would catch his eye. Maybe—

“I really hope you’re not still imagining ways this will end poorly.”

Feyre frowned. “Seriously, Lu, this is a bad idea.”

Lucien elbowed her. “You said, and I quote, “I’m done being a lonely spinster who’s too busy regretting my life choices to get laid.” Therefore I, as the good friend I am, decided to get you a date. And consequently, laid. So stop being a bitch. If it doesn’t end well, at least you put yourself out there, right?”

She sighed. “If it doesn’t end well, I will have to endure the long-lasting humiliation and despair for the rest of my life. That’s not something I’m inclined to want.”

“The only reason I’m still here listening to your self-pity is because I know if I leave you’ll chicken out.”

“And because I’m your best friend?”

“Yeah, that too.”

Feyre scowled and crossed her arms. “You don’t say that very convincingly.”

Lucien just smiled and gave Feyre a peck on the cheek. “You’ll have a good time tonight. Just be yourself.”

“But what if he doesn’t like myself?”

“He will. Azriel has good taste in people, as evidenced by the fact that he’s dating me,” Lucien stated matter-of-factly.

Feyre rolled her eyes but allowed a small smile to cross her features. Azriel had only started dated Feyre’s best friend a couple weeks ago, and she’d met the man a handful of times. It was his friend, Rhys, she thought he’d said, that she would be going on a date with tonight.

“It’s time to go,” Lu told her.

Feyre blinked. “Already?”

“Yes, don’t pretend you haven’t been counting the seconds. You’re such a bullshitter.”

A mournful sigh was all she gave Lucien before heading to the door. They had agreed to meet at the restaurant, a fancy, but also homey, little place downtown.

“Wait.”

Feyre almost growled out loud. If Lucien kept distracting her, she was going to lose her nerve.

“I’m driving you to the restaurant.”

Feyre spun around. “What do you mean you’re driving me? I was about to walk out the door.”

Lucien crossed his arms. “Yes, but that still leaves you with dozens of opportunities to turn back around. I won’t risk it.”

Feyre narrowed her eyes, but reluctantly allowed him to take her. The drive was unpleasant—Feyre would never admit it to him, but Lucien had been right. Had she had the option, she would have turned around by the time they pulled up at the restaurant. Feyre’s hands were clenched into fists to keep them from shaking.

She tried to think when she had become so nervous about dates. It probably had something to do with Tamlin. Tamlin was a bastard who had ridiculed and scorned Feyre subtly enough during their relationship that Feyre had begun to think of herself as worthless, entirely unaware it was his fault. She’d dumped his sorry ass after she caught him in Feyre’s own fucking bed with Ianthe, a “friend.”

Yes, that was definitely the cause of Feyre’s anxiety. She was never excessively social or flirty, but she had at least been cool and collected, as many guys noticed. Or they used to, anyway. Now she was scared to go on a single gods-damn date.

“Are you going to get out of the car, or are we going to sit here all night?” Lucien’s dry voice cut into her thoughts.

Feyre glared at him, not deigning to give a response other than a raised finger (try and guess which one) and getting out. She closed the door and turned around, checking her phone for the time before turning it on silent. It was only a few minutes before six-thirty, so he may or may not be there already.

Taking a moment—and making sure Lucien had already driven off—Feyre smoothed out her dress apprehensively. She was wearing a plain blue dress suited for a special occasion, but still simple enough not to be too flashy. Had she misjudged what to wear? Should she have with something more stylish? Or maybe more revealing, showing off more of her legs or breasts?

And her makeup—was it too plain? Should she have chosen better earrings? Should she be wearing more jewelry? Were her flats too drab?

Feyre almost wished Lucien had stayed to make sure she made it in the restaurant. Steeling herself for the inevitable letdown that tonight would be, Feyre went inside.

Before she had a chance to look around, she nearly ran into a man waiting at the entrance.

“Oh, you’re pretty.”

The man raised an eyebrow.

Feyre blinked. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” She was blushing and cursing herself for her lack of a filter.

Although, who could blame her? The man was dark-skinned, violet-eyed, and muscled, with dark, tousled hair and strong cheekbones. He was wearing an insanely hot dress shirt with the sleeves—the fucking sleeves—rolled up, revealing tattooed forearms. Pretty was a bit of an understatement.

The man was grinning now. The bastard probably had a lot of women telling him he was pretty. Feyre kicked herself internally.

“Well, if it makes it better, I think you’re pretty too.”

Feyre’s face turned an even deeper shade of red. “Um, thanks. I should… I have a date… with um…” She trailed off, the man smirking all the while. And then she thought of something.

“You’re Rhys, aren’t you? I mean sure, there are plenty of other people here who could be Rhys, but I have the worst luck, and telling my date he’s pretty totally qualifies as bad luck. Fuck, I thought we’d at least make it to the table before I scared you away. Oh shit, I’m just making it worse now, aren’t I?”

Rhys, or the random guy Feyre was assuming to be Rhys, smiled. Not condescendingly or rudely in any way, just more of an amused expression. “I am Rhys. Which I think makes you Feyre?”

Feyre nodded sullenly.

“It takes more than a beautiful woman complimenting me to scare me away, don’t worry. Why don’t we sit down?”

Feyre’s face was crimson, she was sure of it. She hadn’t expected a compliment from him after that little incident. She tried to think of what Lucien would say right now. Don’t worry, it’ll be a fun story to tell your kids. Okay, not helping.

Trying to turn off her brain, admittedly without much success, Feyre nodded once more and let Rhys lead her over to a table by the window. It was mostly dark outside, so the choice of seating only allowed to give them some privacy as opposed to being in the middle of the room. Probably not a conscious choice on Rhys’ choice, but Feyre quite liked it.

He also pulled the chair out for Feyre to sit. What a gentleman.

Feyre awkwardly fumbled with the menu, trying not to stare at Rhys’ beautiful face.

“Have you been here before, Feyre?” So much for that.

She looked up. “No, I haven’t.”

“I’ve been a couple times. Of course you can get whatever you like, but I would recommend the braised pork. It was delicious.”

Feyre bit her lip. “It sounds good.”

The waiter came over just then and Rhys asked for the braised pork for himself, then Feyre said to make it two orders.

He left, and the pair was left in silence once more. “So, Rhys,” Feyre said, making an effort not to be entirely silent. “Tell me about yourself.”

He smiled. “I work as an architect. I like reading, sightseeing, and talking to interesting ladies. How about you?”

Feyre snorted. “I’m an artist. I like, well, painting I guess. And jogging. And talking to handsome men, I suppose I should say.”

Rhys full-on grinned. “Tell me about your work. Is it just paint, or other types of art?”

Feyre answered his question, and then a few more. She tried not to talk too much, not wanting to take over the conversation, but Rhys showed such a genuine interest in her passion that Feyre could help opening up. By the time the food arrived, he knew her style, her favorite colors to use, her methods of gaining inspiration, and her opinions on some classic pieces that Rhys seemed to know more than the average person about.

Then the waiter interrupted with their meal. Once everything was served and Feyre had already dug into the pork, which was even more delectable then Rhys had let on, he asked another question.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why did you decide to try out a blind date?”

Feyre finished chewing, using the time to think about how to answer his question properly. “I ended a bad relationship a few months ago, and I’ve been a bit lacking in confidence since then. I guess I’m just sick of spending my weekends alone. What about you?”

“I’ve been searching for a relationship for a while. I’m interested in the idea of spending my future with someone, so when Azriel suggested a date with you, I jumped at the chance.” Rhys seemed to reconsider his words. “Not that I would be spending my future with you, necessarily.” He paused. “I mean—”

“No, I get it,” Feyre cut in, not wanting to hear any more of this. “I’m not the type of person you want to be in a serious relationship with.” She had known all along. Rhys was charming and handsome and smart and funny and there was no reason he would want to spend his life with her of all people.

Rhys’ eyes widened. “No, not at all!” he exclaimed. “That came out wrong. I was only trying to take it back so as not to pressure you. I didn’t know how much you’d be okay with hearing me tell you how interested I was in you after saying I’m looking for a relationship.”

Feyre blinked, surprised to find that it hadn’t been a dismissal. Surprised at more than that. “Oh.”

Rhys smiled, the first signs of nervousness shining through his calm demeanor. “I like you, Feyre. We’ve only been talking for fifteen minutes, and already I like you. And I’m not getting too ahead of myself by claiming you’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. Not nearly this soon; hell, I just met you. But I do think you should know what I’m looking for so we can end this before it goes too far. If you’re not ready for something like that, I mean.”

Feyre was stunned. Rhys not only liked her, but enough to tell her something like that?

“I hadn’t really thought that far ahead, but I like you too,” she replied. And she meant it. Rhys was really nice, and very intriguing. She hadn’t considered what she wanted past a date. After all, she had been positive he would diss her by the end of it. But Feyre sure as hell wanted something with this man.

Rhys almost seemed surprised. “I’m not asking for commitment or anything like that. Certainly not on the first date. But maybe you can think over that later, and we can finish dinner now?”

Feyre smiled, still processing his words. “Okay.”

They dug in. There was less conversation than before, both because Feyre was too busy letting out content groans at the taste of the food and from the lingering awkwardness. But they did start talking more toward the end, Feyre snorting into her hand as she heard the end of some ridiculous story Rhys was telling her. By the time the waiter came over and let them know the restaurant was closing now, they’d returned to an animated conversation.

From everything to Rhys’ work as an architect to gossip about Azriel and Lucien to current events and old movies and bad jokes, it had crossed the discussion. Rhys was an exceptional conversationalist.

Rhys pulled out a wallet, but Feyre said, “We can split it.”

He glanced over. “I’ve got it, darling. Consider it my treat.”

Trying to suppress a shiver at the new nickname, Feyre said, “Really, I can help out.”

“Persistent, aren’t you? Maybe I’ll let you buy me coffee next time.”

Feyre knew he was teasing; there was no doubt he would refuse to let her pay next time. He seemed like the kind of guy to insist. Still, Feyre was more than satisfied with hearing that there would be a next time.

Disappointed with the fact they had to leave, but definitely pleased with how the date had gone, Feyre stood. Rhys walked Feyre out in silence, the latter surprised to find how long they’d been chatting. The restaurant was almost empty.

Feyre pulled her phone out of her purse.

“No ride, darling?” Rhys had raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“No, my friend dropped me off. He was worried I would flee if he didn’t actually bring me here himself.”

Rhys grinned. “Would you have fled?”

“Probably,” Feyre admitted.

“Let me drive you home. No expectations,” he added hastily at Feyre’s expression. “Just so you don’t have to wait out here. It’s getting cold.”

“Alright,” she agreed, very appreciative.

She’d sent Lucien a text and he had shot back a message letting her know he would be on the way. Feyre swiftly sent another text.

nvm rhys is dropping me off

Then she followed Rhys over to his car, laughing when he opened the door for her with a bow. Feyre wished she was the one driving; it would have been easier to keep her eyes off of him if she had something to focus on.

“Am I really that pretty?” So he’d noticed.

Feyre scowled. “Shut up.”

Rhys chuckled and glanced over, then turned his eyes back to the road. “I had a really nice time tonight, Feyre.”

“Me too,” she said.

The only words passed between them after that were directions on how to find Feyre’s apartment, fairly close to the restaurant. They were a street over when Feyre pulled a scrap of a receipt out of her purse, as well as a pen—Lucien often made fun of her having everything in her purse, but it was useful—and wrote down her number. They parked and Rhys looked over.

“So you don’t have to contact me through Lucien next time,” she clarified, handing him the paper.

Rhys smiled and put the paper in his pocket.

“Thank you for the ride, Rhys.”

He frowned mockingly. “What kind of person do you think I am, darling? Didn’t you know the good guys walk their dates to the door?”

Feyre laughed and mumbled something, getting out. Rhys stepped out of the car as well. But Feyre was starting to get nervous that Rhys was expecting something from her. Tamlin always had, after all.

They reached Feyre’s door and she stopped. But before she could say goodnight, Rhys seemed to realize why she was so anxious. He was too observant for his own good.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Feyre. I didn’t walk you here because I required anything of you.”

She flushed. “It’s not that I thought you would, exactly, I guess it just… been a while since I’ve met a nice guy.”

Rhys looked very sympathetic. “I understand. And for you, Feyre, I couldn’t care less if you wanted to drag me in your apartment and have your way with me now or wait a year to so much as kiss me. You’re worth it.”

There was no way Feyre’s face at all resembled a normal color. Or her ears. Or her neck. Gods, she was positively reeling.

“Really?”

“I had fun with you,” was all Rhys said.

Feyre barely noticed herself leaning closer. “Maybe a goodnight kiss wouldn’t be so bad.”

Rhys’ lips twitched and he assessed the sincerity of the statement. He leaned in slowly, giving Feyre every chance to back away, before planting his lips softly on hers.

Feyre melted into the kiss, obsessed with the soft feel of his mouth. It only last a few seconds, and Rhys’ touch remained featherlight. He pulled back, grinning.

“Goodnight, Feyre.”

She leaned against the wall for support. She was probably swooning. “Goodnight.”

One last smirk was all she got before he turned and walked down the hall.

Making it into her apartment, Feyre tried to process what had happened.

She’d met the man and made a fool of herself. Still, he had been nice and showed an interest in her. Then he had said he desired a serious relationship with someone, and she was a good candidate. There had been some more startled deer-like behavior on her part and some more suaveness from him. Then he had been super gentlemanly about not expecting her to sleep with him.

Basically, he was all Feyre could have wished for—and then some.

Feyre groaned loudly, throwing one of her flats at the wall. Then the other. She wasn’t sure why she was angry. Probably just because she’d been so ridiculous tonight. Or maybe it was the pent-up up hormones.

Feyre glanced at her phone, saw about a dozen messages from Lucien telling her to have fun and “be safe.” She threw her phone on the couch and grumbled about what a nosy little asshole her best friend was.

Then she slumped to the floor.

Feyre was going to spend the rest of her life mooning over Rhys and making a fool of herself, she already knew it. And she was going to love every second of it.

Oh, she was screwed.

———

Tag List:

@aelin-bitch-queen // @feysand-loml // @infernoqueen19 // @live-the-fangirl-life // @midsizewitch // @sleeping-and-books // @story-scribbler // @thebonecarver

[bentforkent]

merry christmas, spencer reid

derek morgan x spencer reid x penelope garcia

a/n: this is a spencer-centric morceid fic. i find spencer the easiest to write, so i enjoy framing these moments through a spencer-lens...hope that's okay with y'all :)

content warnings: none! this is straight FLUFF, love, and banter baby!

word count: 2087

in which derek, penelope, and spencer are at the airport, heading to chicago for christmas

- - - - - 

Arrive at Airport - 6:47 AM

It’s cold. Spencer Reid is certifiably a genius, and all he knows at this moment in time is that it is cold. A fog has settled over the airport drop-off zone, wet and enveloping. Spencer thinks it might be melancholy if not for the sun just barely peeking over the horizon and Penelope’s bright pink coat bouncing around in front of him. She’s wearing enough layers that it’s difficult for her arms to move, leaving Derek and Spencer to pull their luggage from the trunk of the Uber. To compensate for her lack of involvement, she flits around the pair, pressing gentle kisses to their cheeks.

She’s moving a little too much for Spencer’s liking. It’s still early and he’s feeling quite overwhelmed. Late minute packing, bickering, and a sugary coffee before 6 in the morning will do that to you. But he loves Penelope--oh, he loves her so much--and he’s been working through this type of sensory overload response in therapy, so instead of snapping at her to calm down and please stop moving, he reaches for her hand with the one that isn’t white-knuckling a heavy suitcase.

Penelope, ever intuitive, ever loving, laces her fingers with his spindly ones and slows to a still next to him. “Oops. Sorry, lovebug,” she says, and Spencer, relaxing, kisses her flushed cheek.

“Are you excited?” She asks him.

Spencer nods rapidly, curls bouncing. It’s Spencer’s first Christmas spent with Derek and Penelope, his first time going to Chicago with them, and his first time meeting Derek’s family. He’s nervous, but so excited. Spencer watches as Derek lifts the luggage onto the curb, and finds himself wishing it wasn’t so damn cold so he could watch Derek’s muscles flex in the absence of a heavy jacket. Penelope follows Spencer’s gaze and squeezes his hand as if she can hear his thoughts and agrees.

As if on cue, Derek thanks the Uber driver and turns to them.

“You guys are no help,” he remarks, gesturing to the disparity between the amount of luggage each of them were carrying. Penelope pulls her empty, suitcase-free hands from Spencer’s, hiding them behind her back to playfully feign innocence. Spencer’s heart swells as he watches Derek’s smile widen and overtake his whole face.

“Spence, you want me to take that bag?” He asks. He reaches for it, brushing against Spencer’s exposed wrist tenderly.

Spencer beams at him. “No, you’ve got all of them. I can handle this one.”

As they bustle into the airport, the cold air feels a bit warmer.

Check Bags - 7:12 AM

“Babygirl, I hope you checked that bag’s weight twice, because I am not paying extra for you going over the 50 pound limit again,” Derek says, looking down at Penelope where she’s perched on the edge of her suitcase. The line they’re in to check their bags hasn’t moved in a while, and once Penelope had discovered that her suitcase was sturdy enough to hold a human body despite the wonky wheel she’d broken trekking through this very airport last Christmas, she’d been sitting on it ever since. She offered Spencer a spot next to her, of course, but he was enjoying standing with Derek. Every so often, he reaches over and pinches Spencer’s hip playfully, kissing his cheek when Spencer squirms in response. So yeah, Spencer is enjoying it.

Penelope kicks her leg out and hooks it around Derek’s. “Oh, you love me, you’ll pay for it,” she replies, with a toothy smile up at him.

“Did you know that there was once a tiny Samoan airline that actually determined ticket prices based on the weight of their passengers, instead of weighing their luggage? Each kilogram someone weighed was 93 cents onto the price of their ticket,” Spencer says.

“How did that work out for them?” Derek asks intently, enthralled by Spencer’s words. 

“They closed. A lot of people were really upset by the weight thing, but because it made children’s tickets cheaper than the average ticket, a lot of traveling families actually preferred that method.” 

Penelope hums, standing from her seat and wrapping her arms tightly around Derek’s waist. On instinct, he rests his hand on her lower back protectively, holding her close and pressing kisses to her forehead in quick succession.  

“Probably would be cheaper for us to fly that way,” Derek says. “Penelope’s earrings alone are about 49 pounds in there.” He gestures to her floral luggage. 

Penelope turns her head to make mock-serious, unwavering eye-contact with Spencer. “He’s mean to me,” she says matter-of-factly. 

Derek shakes his head with a chuckle. Spencer notes that his smile hasn’t left his face. He hadn’t thought it possible for Derek to be any happier, but apparently Penelope makes it so. Spencer knows the feeling. 

“I love you, Penelope, you know that,” Derek replies, kissing her chastely.  

(Penelope’s suitcase weighs at 27 pounds.) 

Go Through Security - 7:44 AM

“Hey, those are my socks!” Spencer says, looking pointedly at Penelope’s feet.

The socks are yellow, ankle-high, and covered in rainbows. They’re cute, and Spencer knows they’re cute because they’re his, a pair he’d picked up at a random general store in Des Plaines, Illinois, while on a case. He remembers sending Penelope a photo of them that night, just his socked feet next to Derek’s where they laid on the hotel’s puffy white comforter. She answered with a smattering of emojis, saying she was “So jealous!” Spencer had thought she was referring to the quality time with Derek, but it’s apparent now as she puts her shoes into a gray bin, sliding them onto the conveyor belt, that she’d really been jealous of the socks all along.  

“If they’re your socks, why am I wearing them, loverboy?” Penelope counters in jest, back turned to both Spencer and Derek as they follow behind her through the security checkpoint. She flashes a genuine smile to the stoic TSA agent ushering her through as if to say, “Boys, right?”  

Instead of arguing, Spencer turns to Derek. “Those are my socks.”

The TSA agent, still sporting a neutral expression and seemingly unimpressed by Penelope’s charms, calls for Spencer to move forward. He’s trying to keep up, obviously, but this morning he double-knotted his shoelaces as always and has slight trouble getting them off quickly. Once he manages to get all of his belongings--belt, shoes, coat, and hat included--into the tray, he stumbles into the security scanner.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. The TSA agent gives him a half-smile in return, and Spencer takes the emotion and holds it close to his chest.

It’s only when Spencer and Derek finally meet Penelope at the bench she’s at, lacing up her boots, that Spencer looks down at Derek’s feet.

“Der,” he says.

Distracted with putting his belt back on, Derek replies absentmindedly. “Yes, baby?”

“Those are my socks.”

Derek looks down at his feet. Two bright pink kittens smile up at him.

Arrive at Gate - 8:17 AM

Penelope passes the sweet-smelling hand sanitizer towards Spencer as they sink into the grimy, uncomfortable seats at the gate, dropping their carry-on bags.

“‘Frosted Snowball,’” Spencer reads aloud from the glittery blue bottle. He pours a generous amount into his hand, watching earnestly as the glitter spreads across his hands and in between his fingers. Something about disinfected hands and shimmer makes him feel as awake as he’s felt all morning, although he secretly hopes Penelope will propose going to get a coffee to help him maintain the feeling.

“Isn’t it cute? I got a few, there’s one in your stocking at home. I couldn’t leave it, look at the little polar bear!”

Spencer passes the sanitizer to Derek, who inspects it with a raised eyebrow.

“Why couldn’t they just call it ‘Coconut,’ if that’s the scent?” He asks, squirting a bit of the gel into his hand. “Makin’ me squint and read the fine print to find out what it actually smells like.”

Penelope presses her lips into a faux pout. “Because ‘Frosted Snowball’ is a cuter name than--” She lowers her voice to mock Derek’s--”’Coconut.’ And, it’s festive! Winter themed!”

Spencer pipes up. “Looks like someone isn’t getting ‘Frosted Snowball’ in their stocking this year.” He grins at Derek.

With a shrug and a smile, Derek slings his arm around Spencer’s shoulders and pulls him to his chest, pressing his lips to Spencer’s temple and letting them linger there. Locking eyes with Penelope, Derek smiles. “C’mere, pretty girl,” he says, patting the seat next to him.

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” Penelope says, patting Spencer’s thigh as she leaves his side to sit next to Derek.

The airport bustles around them, but they stop and sit, a peaceful bubble of limbs and public displays of affection and glitter and coconut scent.

Board Flight - 9:07AM

“Are you feeling okay?” Derek whispers into Spencer’s ear, letting his lips brush against it. Spencer leans into his touch. Penelope is tucked into her knitting already, and she’s pulled out an extra set of needles and yarn for Spencer.

Spencer nods.

“You’ve been quiet since we boarded,” Derek observes.

Spencer speaks quietly. “I’m just nervous, I guess. I read an article in Psychology Today about how your partner’s parent’s approval can affect how much love and affection you feel in a relationship, and I just don’t want to mess up.”

There’s a pregnant pause. Derek wants to quell Spencer’s fears and reassure him that everything is okay, but then Spencer is talking again, equally as hushed, but more panicked.

“I’m also nervous because, I know your mom and sisters love Penelope, and I’m...I’m new.”

Derek frowns. His palm finds a spot on Spencer’s chest, right over his heart. Derek knows the weight and warmth of his hand will stabilize Spencer, regulating his breathing, and preventing any anxiety attacks from blooming. Grateful for the touch, Spencer continues.

“They’re gonna think it’s weird that we’re together and that it’s weird that I’m a man and that I’m awkward and gangly and I’m not good with social situations and sometimes I say the wrong things at the wrong time and...yeah.” He stops himself from continuing, noticing how he’s working himself into a frenzy. Derek smiles a tiny half-smile, and Spencer returns it in acknowledgement.  

Penelope, having overheard bits of the conversation, pulls Spencer’s right hand to her lips and kisses his knuckles softly as a reminder of her presence, then turns back to the new scarf she’s making. It’s in a deep mauve, close to Spencer’s favorite shade of purple. (She hasn’t decided if she’s going to give it to him yet. On one hand, it is his color, and he wears scarves more than she does; but on the other hand, because it’s his color, whenever she wears it it would be a reminder of him. She’s torn. They’ll end up sharing it.)

Derek tucks a piece of Spencer’s hair back behind his ear.

“Let me ask you something,” he says. “Do you think it’s weird that we’re together?”

“No,” Spencer replies.

“Do you think it’s weird that you’re a man?”

“No.”

“So,” Derek shrugs as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “If my family feels some type of way about it, that’s their own issue to get over.”

Spencer nods, letting his eyes search Derek’s.

Derek kisses his forehead. “But, I would never intentionally put you into a situation where I know you would be uncomfortable or unwelcome. You know that, right? Tell me you know that.”

Spencer nods, again. He knows. Derek always protects him. He taps Derek’s hand where it lies on his sternum as an example.

Derek nods, then plants a firm, wet kiss on Spencer’s pouted lips. “So trust me when I tell you it’s all going to be okay, okay?”

“Okay,” Spencer says, and he means it.

Derek pats his chest lovingly and moves to put in his headphones. He’ll catch up on his sport podcasts, but in approximately 23 minutes, he’ll feel bad about having headphones in and offer one to Spencer. Spencer eagerly awaits this interaction, although he’ll decline, waiting for Penelope to get bored with her knitting. Then, the two of them will watch some campy 90’s movie together, and share the peanut M&Ms he snuck into his coat pocket to surprise her with.

But for now, Spencer takes Penelope’s extra set of knitting needles, laying them across his lap. 

Content in where he’s at, he smiles and folds up his itinerary.

[votederpycausemufins]

Chapter three for Surprisingly Familiar. It’s time to get to the real plot of this thing!

@petrichormeraki is the maker of the hermit Tommy au, @helleborusangel likes to read these and give me their rambles which are my beloved, and then check my tumblr for my masterpost of things I’ve made.

“Hey Paul, you’re done talking with X, right?” Bdubs asked as he noticed Paul walking by.

“Uh, yeah. He said he could let a guest in for a little bit because he needs to talk with Phil and Phil’d rather stay here instead of coming to the castle.”

“Yeah yeah, sounds great.” Bdubs sad, waving it off. “Hey, new question. Paul what the heck was that back there?!” He shouted, making a number of hermits look over.

“Hey, calm down, keep things off tap.” Paul tried to calm the hermit down, but it didn’t work that much.

“Oh this is Hermitcraft. We don’t do things on tap. Except Tommy but that’s different. Now, what were you doing back there?” And Bdubs pointed towards the room Paul and Phil had talked in. From the crowd, Jrum felt a little nervous, wondering if it was something he did, but the answer calmed the bot.

“Calm down. It was something Hoodie taught me. I’m sure Zedaph can back me up.”

Behind Bdubs, Zed stopped slurping from a coffee cup that was actually filled with a slushie. “Yeah, don’t worry he’s fine. No necromancy.”

“See? I just wanted a private conversation.” Paul replied, though Bdubs still looked grumpy.

“Alright, don’t make me call in Genny.” And Bdubs signalled that he was watching Paul before walking off. As he left, Scar took his place, seeming pretty confused.

“So, what’s with him?”

Paul sighed. “He’s not a fan of certain types of magic. I did a bit of necromancy for a time and there was someone else in the world who essentially became a dark lord, so Bdubs and some others became witch hunters.”

“Huh, That’s not something I would have guessed.” Scar said. “I mean, I’m a wizard and he’s been fine with me.”

Paul looked a little stunned. “Oh really? Didn’t realize. What style are you? My friend Hoodie is coming in for a quick visit. He’s ars based.”

Scar laughed a little. “Is that so? Haven’t seen many of those. I’ve got a mix. Vex magic and crystalline. Cub’s also a user of vex magic.”

Paul nodded. “That’s nice. How many magic users you got around here?”

The hermit mayor started to count on his fingers. “So there’s me and Cub. Pretty sure Stress has some. Cleo’s definitely got some magic. Grian of course. Uh, not sure if Joe does or not. I think Xisuma’s just-”

“Xel- er, Grian’s got some magic?”

“Yeah. And I guess the kids probably do too. Not sure right now.” Scar said, before looking Paul in the eye. “You're not going to freak out about Grian having magic, right? You’ve already got him upset which gets us upset.”

“Yeah, I know.” Paul sighed. “Just been through a lot. I get overly worried sometimes, and to me, I suddenly hear that ‘kid involved in murders is now causing wars in the world my friends are in.’ So yeah, sort of thought the worst.”

Scar inhaled sharply. “Okay, yeah. I can see what made you freak out. But Grian’s fine. He’s been through a lot and while technically he’s caused chaos, it’s never something we hate and normally we’re all in on it somehow.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, you should hear about the sewer cats.”

“Can’t wait to hear about it. Haven’t seen any letters about it.”

Scar nodded, before being just a little confused. “So, is there a reason you’re always using letters instead of other stuff? I’m sure some of the others could make you something that would work.”

Paul nodded. “I don’t doubt that they could for the most part. I just deal with a lot of factors and have always preferred the tried and true method. I’m all over the place and sometimes I can only really bring along paper.”

“What do you do?” Scar asked, interest piqued.

“Let’s see. Not sure if Phil’s told you, but he used to be king.” Scar nodded. It wasn’t Phil, but Grian had mentioned it. “Well, I’m one as well. Hoodie’s my right hand man and royal mage.”

“Ah, and you said he’s the one visiting?”

“Yeah. So I end up busy there a lot. I also spend a lot of my time visiting my kids so I’m going from world to world. Then, there’s also my wife and she’s in the world we raised the kids in which is essentially my main home.”

“And that’s what?”

“Uh, the same one I found Xe- sorry, Grian in ages ago.” Paul answered. “And I’ve got a job there that doesn’t really work with comms sometimes, but paper is easy enough to have on hand, especially enchanted paper.” And Paul took out a sheet of paper, handing it to Scar.

Scar took the paper and looked it over. As he moved it, he could see how the light caught the slightly physical aspect of the magic, much like how enchantments could be seen. “This looks good. You can hardly see the magic but I can tell it’s there. What all is on here?”

“Mostly stuff to get it to the right recipient and make it illegible if you’re trying to read it and it’s not for you.”

“Ah. That’s a commonly known one for ars mages, right?” Scar asked. “I haven’t heard much about them.”

Paul nodded. “Yeah. That’s due to the mage wars. They happened a number of years back before Hoodie was alive. He’s the main reason things are sort of getting back to normal for those guys.” Paull pulled out an old communicator which looked like it was being held together with duct tape and prayers. “He should be here pretty soon. He said he was only going to get a few books and amulets. And your admin said he would be able to get in.”

Almost as soon as Paul had said something, a message went out that someone new had joined the world. Xisuma sent a message that he would go to help the guest to Aque Town and from there Paul and Scar just waited for the two others to arrive. Xisuma was the first to arrive, gliding down on his elytra. The other person wore a royal purple hooded robe and seemed to arrive with the use of an ender pearl, but Scar didn’t see them use one.

Paul was the first to move, going over to the other person. “Hoodie! You made it!”

With the confirmation that this was the mage coming in, Scar followed along, a bit excited to meet someone new with magic. “Of course Sir. You did ask for my presence.”

Scar watched as Paul put an arm around Hoodie’s shoulder. “You don’t need to be so formal here. In fact, here. This is Scar. He’s the mayor, and based on the kind of place this is, I’d say he’s the local hedgewizard.”

“Ah, I see. It is nice to meet you. My name is Hoodie. I am King Soares’ right hand man and royal mage.”

Scar shook Hoodie’s hand, getting a slight shock. “It’s nice to meet you too. Paul already said I’m Scar. I’m guessing you’re a lightning mage or something?”

Hoodie took his hand back. “Ah, sorry about that. Yes I am. Or at least I specialize in it. Same as my father lest he’s recently changed his affinity.”

“Well I don’t know enough about your kind of magic to know what that really means.”

Paul walked away as the two magic users started to discuss their various forms of magic and wizardry. He needed to find Phil again since the main reason Hoodie was even there was so that Phil could get more of the enchanted paper. Not wanting to drag the mage away, Paul was instead going after his brother since he was the one insisting he wouldn’t take any of it without knowing for sure it was enchanted by Hoodie. After that, Hoodie would help out a bit around the world as repayment for Xisuma letting him on, then the two of them would head back home. At least, that was the plan.

. .

.

Drawing him away from the nest was almost laughably easy. Grian and Mumbo were both asleep and the chicken was theoretically trapped. At least trapped enough it wasn’t going to escape into the room itself. And then it could only see out the window and not into the room which was a big plus. Because of that, it was simple enough to have viridian magic surround the prison and really ensure the chicken wouldn’t be getting out.

“You know.” The person spoke in a whisper, making Grian twitch ever so slightly in his sleep, but not wake up. “You’re really making this far too easy. I thought it would be difficult with those guests of yours here, but it turns out everyone’s distracted by them. And they put you in such a perfect position. Let’s just move you to somewhere a bit more private, hmm?”

Grian of course didn’t wake up, but as the person left, a bit more magic appeared around Grian, and then a few moments later, he woke up with a start. Grian looked around, glad to see there was only Mumbo and a box in the corner. For a moment he was confused about it, but faint clucking from inside helped him figure out what it was. But something still felt off.

Grian went to shake Mumbo awake, but he hesitated a moment before actually waking him up. “Mumbo. Mumbo!” And Mumbo woke up from his name being shouted, looking around to see what was going on. “Mumbo, I think we’ve been up here too long. Something feels wrong.”

Mumbo pulled out his communicator to look at the time. “Oh dear! It does look like we have been here a while. It also looks like someone else has shown up.”

“Really?” Grian asked, pulling his own comm out to look at the message. “There’s no way this person would just happen to show up today of all days for no reason. What if they’re someone else with… I want to check on the kids.”

Mumbo stood up and then helped Grian to his feet. “Don’t worry. I’m sure if anything happened, the other hermits would be taking care of the boys. We can of course check on them, but you don’t want your panic to make them panic.”

Grian nodded and from there the two of them went back down to the ground floor, leaving Kokatori behind. Finding the new person was rather easy as he and Scar were both standing on the street of Aque Town facing each other. Scar was currently donning his wizard robe over his Aque Town outfit. In his hands, he held a number of crystals that Grian thought he was never going to see again.

The other person was wearing a purple robe and held a wand in one hand and a book with a yellow cover in the other. His hood had fallen back slightly, so Grian was able to see as the other person glanced over at him when he got closer. Normally the avian would assume it was just because he was getting close and was noticed, but there was some sort of emotion in the eyes that made Grian worry.

Both of them had their attention pulled away from each other as Scar moved, a yellow glow around him as he moved like he had a speed effect. When he reached the other person, Grian watched as the Scar’s netherite sword struck them, and then a ring of white magic appeared around them, acting as a shield against further attacks.

Realizing at this point that the two were fighting, Grian moved to try and stop them, but then out of nowhere, lightning struck the ground in front of him, making him stop. When Grian looked back up, both mages were looking over to him and then Scar called out. “Hey, don’t worry! We’re just doing some sparring! It was my idea!”

“Are you sure? Who even is this?”

“His name’s Hoodie. Royal mage of Paul it looks like.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Grian asked, concerned.

“Yeah, it just sounds like he was jumping to conclusions when he saw you. I’m sure it’s going to be fine if you talk to him again.”

Grian wasn’t completely convinced, but pretended enough for Scar to look back at Hoodie and then continue their sparring. Slowly, the avian started moving to where everyone else probably was, still in the party building. Mumbo followed him along, but eventually he passed Grian when the builder decided to actually watch the magic battle.

Scar seemed to mainly be using regular combat, but enhanced by his crystals which actually seemed to be doing something. Hoodie, on the other hand, was using his wand and casting a number of spells from his book. At one point, Grian watched the mage fumble a little bit to pull out a book with a green cover before casting a new spell that he hadn’t used yet.

Grian didn’t realize he was just standing there alone, and the magicians weren’t really paying much attention to him, but in the span of a few seconds, that all changed. To anyone watching, it would seem like it happened all at once, but really it was just one thing after the other.

Grian was barely aware of the space around him getting the slightest tint of green to it. As soon as that had happened, Hoodie turned away from Scar and instead faced Grian, pulling out a new red spell book. Scar was the next to react, still under the effects of his yellow crystal. He started to pull out a red crystal, accidentally pulling a pink one out at the same time. He threw them towards Grian just as Hoodie began to cast some magic aimed at Grian, but also in the direction of what would be in the path of the crystals.

Seeing multiple things coming his way, Grian started to panic, wings moving to act as a shield since he currently wasn’t holding one. As they moved, the tips of his wings started to change from red to purple, the shift in color working its way to the base of the wings. He couldn’t react fast enough to block everything, but the magic hit both of the crystals, making them shatter into dust. The pink and red dust didn’t completely stay their original colors, some of them charred by the magic attack that hit them, but each tiny piece seemed to glow with its own energy, and even with the, being broken so small, when the cluster hit Grian, there was enough force to make him crash to the ground.

For everyone not watching at that moment in time, they simply heard a large crack of thunder at the same time there was shattering glass, followed by screaming from Grian. Within a matter of seconds, people were racing out of the nearby building, there to see what had happened.

When people got out onto the street, Scar was yelling at Hoodie. “What was that?! Grian wasn’t involved! I thought I could actually- I can’t see why Bdubs actually trusted- I’m guessing he’s changed a lot since-”

“Please, I was just trying to defend myself. He was about to attack me. Didn’t you see it?”

“He was just watching us!”

“No. Your back was turned so you maybe didn’t see it.”

“I should have used a brown crystal too. What kind of spell was that?!” As they yelled, Xisuma was the first to get over to the pair to try and figure out what was going on, getting an answer from Scar. “That Paul guy’s mage just attacked Grian! If I hadn’t done something, it might have killed him!”

“What?” Paul asked, coming over. “Hoodie what just happened?”

The mage looked over to Paul, ignoring Scar and X. “Sir, the hedgewizard and I were simply having a duel to see each other's magic skills. As we battled, this avian mage came by and tried to stop us once. Of course Scar was able to prevent that the first time, but then the mage tried to cast a spell of attack. I was already using a spell to help my reaction time, as was the wizard here, so I began to cast a counterspell. At first I thought Scar was also about to assist me, but instead he seemed to try and stop my spell, causing our magic to collide. It seems to have still-” Hoodie tried to continue, but Paul held up a hand to stop him.

Paul then tried to speak himself, but then his shoulder was ground and he was whirled around by Phil. “Paul, what the fuck? Did you just have your wizard attack Grian?”

“What? No, of course I wouldn’t! It sounds like Grian was trying to attack Hoodie and he defended himself.”

“Yeah sure. Mate, just tell me the truth.”

“I’m just telling you what Hoodie told me. I know just as much as you do at this point other than what he told me.”

Again, the conversation was cut off by Mumbo speaking up, having joined the group. “Grian’s really hurt. His breathing is off and it looks like his wings were hurt enough for them to shift away. There’s also something else, but I can’t place it. Xisuma, can you look at him?”

Everyone moved out of the way for the admin to head towards Grian, but as soon as he took a step, everyone had their comms buzz with two messages. Xisuma peeked over the crowd to look where Grian had been a minute ago. He wasn’t currently lying there, but neither were any items that signified him having died and respawned. That could have been because he had nothing on him at the point, which was unlikely, but could have been what happened.

That being said, the shocked gasps from people who were looking at their comms didn’t assure Xisuma, so the admin pulled up the chat logs on his helmet. Instead of there being a death message for Grian, there were two messages of people leaving the world.

The_Grifter left the world Xelqua left the world.

[sideblogformindtrash]

Thank you @cupcakes-and-pain​ @starnight-whump​ and everyone else who sent asks <3

Sunflower Masterlist

CW: Shock collar; dehumanization; pet whup; conditioning; beating/cane; scars; mentioned gag, forced exercise, starvation, sleep deprivation, domestic labor; controlling behavior;

Abby shifted on her chair, smiling as she started to read the questions, the control of the shock collar on her hands. Sun sat with perfect posture, still, very still, hands over his knees. Good pet. Abby was skimming over the questions, the camera already filming.

“Alright… Let’s begin. Let’s do the questions first, we can record the intro later. I’ll start with an easy one” …A Pause “…For Abby and Sun, what is your favorite color? Well, for me, I’d say I love happy colors like yellow and oranges. I also really enjoy soft pinks and beiges as you guys must have noticed from my fashion choices! What about you, Sun?”

…A little pause. His… favorite color? Was he allowed an opinion on colors, even?

“I think… Green?”

“… Green is not a creative color , Sun” Abby rolled her eyes “Say your favorite color is yellow as well. Like a sunflower. And sound more enthusiastic about it”

“Alright Miss Abby. I apologize” A pause. Deep breath. He smiled“…My favorite color is yellow, too! It’s a very happy color, and, the color of my hair!”

…A few seconds, so they could make the cut.

“…Okay, perfect. Let’s see… Are the two of you introverts or extroverts?” She gave him a quick glance, she would handle this one “Well, I’ve always seem myself as more on the extroverted side. I’ve always had an easy time approaching people and making friends. Sun here, I’d say he is more of an introvert, he Is pretty shy, always nervous when I bring visitors. Right Sun?”

“Yes, Miss Abby”

“Alright, next question… How many pets I had before Sun, if I had any experience” Miss Abby smiled, softly “Well, Sun is the first pet I consider to be mine. But my family has had pets ever since I was a child, so I’d say I have plenty of experience dealing with them. I can count we’ve had about… Five pets from when I was young to when I moved out by myself and got Sun. Honestly I wasn’t planning on getting one at first, I always felt like they take a lot of time, but you know, the house just wasn’t the same without one of them running around. I guess after being so used to them, it’s hard to not have one. It’s also a lot less lonely now with Sun. I wasn’t used to living by myself at all, it was always just… A little too silent, you guys know?”

Sun struggled to keep his head up. Good pets kept their head down but… He had to look at the camera. To look good. Abby sighed. She didn’t like this answer, so she started it again. He wondered how many times they would have to record this today…

When she finally got satisfied, Sun’s face was hurting already, from holding that fake smile. At least she let him get some water.

“Alright… This one is fun! Sun, you’ll say one good and one bad thing about me, and me about you, right?” She smiled, chuckling to the camera. Pause. Lifted the little controller “…Choose what you say carefully, mutt”

“Yes… Sorry Miss Abby” He dry swallowed. Maybe asking would be better “Is… Hm, what can I say?”

Abby smiled.

“…Say I’m a bit too perfectionist. It’s true I guess” she chuckled “And that I’m very dedicated and responsible to you. That works”

…Sun nodded. Alright.

“…So if I had to say something bad about Sun… I think he is a bit of an airhead. Gets distracted all the time, don’t you, dear?” …He nodded again, whispering an agreement “…Louder. Speak louder”

She grunted. He tensed up immediately, seeing her finger flirt with the control of his collar. She repeated herself.

“Alright. And a good thing… Well there is a lot of good. Sun is a really dedicated and hard working pet now that I’ve finalized his training. It took a long time, but he is really good now”

…And he blushed. He didn’t even want to, but he did, and she liked that, smiling to the camera.

“…Why did I choose Sun to be my pet?” she smiled to the camera, Sun shivering slightly, nearly imperceptible “…Well I went to one of the stores. There were plenty of them there of course, but Sun just… caught my eye. Poor thing was so nervous, so shy. I reached my hand and he put his head on it, so eager to come home. So really, Sun picked me, not the opposite! It was just this, instant connection between us…”

…He didn’t remember that happening that way. He was curled up In the corner of his cage. He was scared to be purchased. He didn’t go out until he was dragged. It didn’t matter though. He just agreed. He knew better than to go against her.

“Next is for you Sun, dear. They asking If you like me as an owner, and how was your life before” She smiled, dangling the controller just out of sight of the camera.

“I… Of course I like having Abby. She is a fantastic owner and I couldn’t hope for better. As she said… there was an instant connection between us” …Dry swallowed, hoping it felt authentic enough. Side glance to the controller… “My life before… Wasn’t much. I was just out of training, on a store. Pets live for their owners, I didn’t have one yet, so no life!”

…Miss puts the controller down.

“Alright. But do one more take and try not to look like I have a gun pointed at your head”

“Yes, Miss Abby…” But well… she basically had, dangling the shock collar button around “Hm… Am I allowed some water?”

“Will it help you calm down?”

…He nodded, so she passed him a bottle. He took nearly half of it, before he felt his heart settle a bit, and he could repeat the last question.

“Ooooh” She chuckled “Alright. Someone is asking for training tips, and if Sun had any particular nasty habits that I had to train out of him…”

She shifted on the chair, with a smug smile, as Sun trembled to the core, his face twitching as he tried to keep that smile. He had plenty of habits she had to get rid of.

“Well, yes. He was… Far too lazy when I first got him. Some pets are like that, but I think it wasn’t healthy for Sun” She smiled “…I started to break his bad habits mostly by controlling his sleep schedule and food intake, as well as forcing him to… Exercise quite a bit. Sun is way healthier nowadays, isn’t that right Sun?”

“Yes, Miss Abby”

“Well, punishments. What can I say. I know a lot of other PetTubers are fans of whips and knives. I’m not. I feel like scars are unsightly and greatly decrease your pet’s life quality, so I seek for methods that don’t leave permanent marks. I will admit I do own a cane and use it occasionally, but I’m careful to never leave scarring wounds” She stands up, walking to Sun and grabbing his collar. He yelps. He can’t breathe “This shock collar is my favorite method of punishment and training. It’s fast, clean, quick, and you can correct any bad behavior as soon as you spot it, as opposed to leading the pet to a special area, removing their clothes and preparing the whipping tools or knives. Also, a few days of no sleep or regulated food, also serves as a good reminder of their place.”

“For pets that talk out of place, gags do wonders. Also soap, a cliché as that sounds, to get bad words out of their vocabulary If their training company didn’t already. And one very, very important aspect of training is that you make them do a task to your standards, no matter how long it takes. Can get tiring having to order than to re-do it over and over, but sometimes, they just don’t know your standards yet. You gotta show them! Never accept half-assed chores and tasks, or they’ll start to believe that is acceptable.”

She sat back on the chair, as he takes a deep breath, now even more aware of the thing around his neck.

“Now, for a major infraction, I’d say a combination of all of the above. Of course you can’t overdue any of them” She smiled sweetly “So I might extend punishments through a longer period of time and in small, healthier doses, instead of just applying one that is so bad it incapacitate Sun for a few days”

Sun can’t avoid but lower his head at this. She doesn’t like it… But tried to play it cool

“Oh, look, You don’t like remembering the times you were bad, do you?”

“Of course not, Miss. I’ve learned my lesson. I want to be a good pet for Miss Abby”

…She smiled, probably considering re-doing the take. She decides not to.

“Alright, next question is: do you get hate comments, and what are they about? Was there one video in particular that was deemed very violent and abusive?” …She rolled her eyes. Then read it again, before answering “Oh, dear. My content is usually very chill. But yes and I think I know what you are referring to. I did a collab video a few weeks ago that got some pretty bad reviews… I assume it’s because his channel is a frequent hate target. He has content that is a bit more… raw than my own. But I assure you, both Sun and Blue had a lot of fun that day, and he is a very responsible pet owner, too. We are planning on doing another collab on his channel, in the future”

…Sun felt his heartbeat go crazy. Another one? She hadn’t told him about it. Not that she had to, he was just her dog, after all.

“Aren’t you excited about it, Sun?”

“Yes. I’d love to see Blue again”

…She smiled. She knew he was terrified.

“Well, two more. Someone asked what is your biggest regret. Sun?”

…He lifted his head slightly. He… wished he could even remember it.

“…Being a lazy pet, at the beginning. All the times I disappointed Miss Abby. I’m glad she fixed me and showed me how to be good”

She clicked her tongue, satisfied.

“Last one. Why did I choose Sun’s name… Well” Big, fake smile “I love sunflowers. I love their happy colors, the way they brighten up an environment and bring up the imagery of warmth and summer. I figured a happy name, for a happy pet. Right Sun?”

“…Yes, Miss Abby”

[spencersglasses]

Blood Type: B Positive

A/N: *GIF ISNT MINE* sup y’all! i literally haven’t written since middle school (i'm going into junior year). i just wrote this based on my experience a few days ago, i’m terrified of needles and getting blood taken. i did a little puny spin on it to make it a little better :) hope y'all enjoy <3

Couple: Spencer Reid/Reader

Category: FLUFFY FLUFF

Warnings: Lots of Bad Puns, (Fear of) Needles, Getting Blood Drawn, Hospital/Clinic Environment

Word Count: 1,493

--------------------------------------------

“I don’t know if I can do this, Spencer.” I continuously looked back at him and down at my lap. I was obviously nervous, judging by my bouncing leg and constant fidgeting. 

I have to get my blood drawn today and even though my day job surrounds me with blood and tears, the moment someone mentions a needle coming anywhere towards me, I feel like passing out. Spencer could see how obviously this was bothering me. I felt his hand on my now profusely shaking thigh as we sat on the most uncomfortable clinic lobby chairs to exist. 

“I’ll be there with you every step of the way alright? I've already let the doctors know about how you’re feeling today and they’ve allowed me to stay with you when it happens.” Spencer pulled me out of my thoughts as he gave me a small squeeze on the thigh. I shoot him a soft, slightly fake smile before returning to my thoughts involuntarily.

All I can think about is how the foreign object is actually going to be inside my skin, the needle, inside me. What if they can’t find a vein immediately, what if they just keep jabbing into my arm to find a vein and they accidentally rip open one of them and I bleed out right there? What if-

“Y/F/N? Y/F/N Y/L/N?” a nurse called out from the front desk as I felt my heart drop. Spencer could clearly see the absolute terror in my eyes so he took one of my fidgeting hands in his as he helped me up. I complied, no matter how badly I wanted to just run out the door.  

As we entered the back room, I felt Spencer give my hand a squeeze of reassurance, earning a small, more genuine, smile from me. 

The room was painted white, sectioned off into 3 different areas, 2 were occupied with other patients getting their blood drawn. The sight of someone getting their blood drawn made me weak at my knees, knowing I’m next. The floor was mostly tiled, alternating between green and white-colored tiles. The walls were speckled with small posters, some identifying the different uses and bottles of blood that could be taken, others with generic quotes. The area that we were taken to was the farthest away from the little lobby we were in before. 

“You can go ahead and sit right here,” the lady nurse motioned at the light brown cushioned chair attached to the floor, the arms being the type that would curve inward towards the person sitting down, used for these exact scenarios. “You can stand beside her if you want.” She smiled towards Spencer. Spencer sent her a nod and quick thank you as she walked off to go grab, what I presumed, were supplies. 

As I sat down, my damn leg started bouncing again, gaining a sympathetic look from Spencer. I looked up at him, seeing the cogs in his brain turning before his mouth turned into a slight grin.

“Did you know that research from YouGov Omnibus reports show that about 59% of Americans enjoy puns?” Spencer spoke, averting my attention away from the 5 blood canisters on the table beside me. I let out a slight chuckle, understanding, and appreciating his new method of distracting me. 

“I’m guessing we fall into that category?” I questioned back, earning a small grin from him. “Tell me your worst pun,” I add, giving in to the distraction. It looked as if he was deep in thought for a second.

“What did I say to the boiling pot of water on the stove?” 

“I don’t know Spence, what did you say??” I say sarcastically, although I was eager to hear his response. He chuckled to himself,

“Rest in peace water, you will be mist.” We both erupted into a small fit of laughter, making sure to cover my mouth to not bring too much attention towards myself. 

“That physically hurt to listen to, oh my god,” I say as I’m slowly coming down from my laughs. “But I’ve got a better one.” Spencer cocked a single eyebrow at me, waiting for my response. 

“What do you call a classroom lesson on serial killers?”

“Criminology?” Spencer joked, earning a glare from me. “I don’t know Y/N, what do you call a classroom lesson on serial killers?”

“A Hannibal Lecture!” We erupted once again, a bit louder than before. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the nurse making her way back to me. I lightly smacked Spencer’s arm to signal him that we need to calm down. Thankfully, we somewhat calmed down by the time the nurse returned. 

“I see you’ve calmed down a bit.” The nurse pointed out, smiling sweetly at me. I returned the smile with a small yeah, eyeing Spencer. He was still quietly giggling to himself. I shot him a playful glare to get him to calm down because if he was laughing, I was bound to start laughing as well. “I’m just going to tie this around your right arm, by doing this, I’m making your veins pop out so I don’t have to go digging in your arm to find one.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, I felt my stomach drop slightly. I gave her a nod and I felt Spencer give my left hand, which was currently intertwined with his, a little reassuring squeeze.  

“Okay, I’ve found a vein,” she stated calmly. I felt my blood pressure rise a bit. “I’m now going to disinfect the area. I’ll let you know when I’ve inserted the needle into your arm, alright?” she stated again. I sent her another nod as I averted my attention to Spencer. He’s smiling down at me, finally calming down fully from his little giggle attack. I sent him a little squeeze, signaling him to distract me as the lady entered a huge needle into my arm.

He took the hand that he was holding and carefully laid a kiss on top of it, making sure not to make me move my other arm. The grin I gave him then was probably one of the biggest and most genuine smiles I’ve given him today. This man really knows how to calm someone down. 

“I’m inserting the needle now.” The lady states. I immediately closed my eyes, feeling a tight pinch on my arm. I involuntarily let out a small ow, making Spencer chuckle again. As my body begins to adapt to the tight fabric around my upper arm and the obvious needle inside of me, I send Spencer another glare. He just gives my hand another kiss and holds it against his cheek, our fingers still intertwined. We sat in a weirdly-comfortable silence for another minute or so.

“That’s it, you’re free to go!” the lady exclaims, causing me to open my eyes to see the 5 vials of my own blood. “I’m going to remove the needle from your arm now,” she states again as I watch her remove it, feeling calmer and a bit embarrassed at my anxieties that melted away so quickly. She then asked me to hold a small cotton ball over the puncture, causing me to let go of Spencer, putting a small amount of tape over it to secure it. I already felt my arm becoming sore. She then led us out the little corridor, to the lobby door. I waved and said a quick thank you before speed walking out. 

“Wow, you really wanna get out of here, don’t you?” Spencer questions, mockingly. I send him a quick “yup” before walking out of the clinic. I then turn around and throw him the keys of the car, prompting that he should drive because of my already sore arm. Although Spencer’s kind of a smart ass sometimes, he was a complete and utter gentleman, coming over to open my door for me. I say a quick thank you before making my way into the car carefully. 

As he enters the car, he doesn’t start it immediately, instead sits down and stares at me, lovingly, for a quick second. I mimicked his early gesture, cocking an eyebrow at him not starting the car. He looks me up and down and says, 

“You know what you are Y/N? You’re copper tellurium.” He says nonchalantly, as he then starts the car. It takes you a second to realize what he said, knowing that chemistry has never been your strong suit. 

“Copper tellurium?” you say out loud. As you buckle your seat belt, it hits you. “Oh! I’m cute? Awe Spence.” You feel your heart warm at the small pick up line Spencer just used on you. As Spencer pulls out of the parking spot, a slight blush covers his face. 

“Well, Iodine Lutetium Vanadium Uranium” I responded, sheepishly. Spencer once again chuckles before intertwining our fingers,

“I love you too.”

[huntertales]

Part Three: A Mother’s Love. (Bad Boys S09E07)

Episode Summary: When an old friend of Dean’s asks for help to solve a murder, Sam and the reader discover that the older Winchester as a secret past—one that will help solve the hunt. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 5,212.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

in the span of less than an hour the ambulance was back on the farm, this time, for an injury that couldn't be blamed as an unfortunate coincidence. One of the kids who'd been caught bullying Timmy was in the middle of doing his chores when disaster struck. The poor kid was screaming in pain when his fingers got caught in the blade of the blade of the lawnmower trying to retrieve whatever had caused it to jam in the first place. The thing to blame was a set of rosary beads that belonged to Ruth. 

It was easy to think that one of the kids might have stolen them from the woman as a prank, only to try and discard the piece of jewelry when she ended up dead. And it just so happened to land on the exact spot where the kid went over with the lawnmower. All of that would have made sense—except the part where the mower turned on by itself. 

The kid claimed it turned off the machine like he always did when something made the mower get jammed. His friend denied any responsibility of doing such a heinous thing when eyes shifted over to him. These kids were trouble makers, but you had a strong feeling they wouldn't do anything to the point of causing bodily harm to one another. 

Sonny made sure the kid went off to the hospital safely while Dean handled the other distraught one and made sure the rest of the boys were doing all right after the chaotic morning they had. You wouldn't admit it right away, but you were a bit shaken up yourself at seeing someone so young in such pain after such a terrible accident. Luckily you helped manage to get everything back to a somewhat calm state around the home, allowing you to momentarily slip away to try and help Sam. You needed to find out what was to blame for the two deaths and freak accident. Something was murdering adults and mutilating kids. It was your job to find out who. Occasionally you hit dead ends and wrong turns, but you couldn't go down the wrong path in fear someone else might get hurt—or worse—dead.

You made your way up to Sonny’s office where you saw sitting on the other side of the desk reading through files after going through what seemed to be dozens, despite being pulled away not too long ago to help calm the chaos You helped lighten the load when you reached for a thick file of cases. What you needed right now was a distraction, some mind numbing task to help try and distract your mind. You let out a shaky breath as you sat down on the edge of the desk, needing a moment first before you dived straight in. Sam glanced up from the file he was reading to see you weren’t doing that well. He saw that look on your face many times before to know what you were thinking without needing to say it.

"You okay?" Sam asked in a concerned voice. All though he’d been around for the aftermath of things, stepping in to see what the chaos was about and watching as the kid was put into the ambulance, the sight of someone at such a young age with his hand wrapped in a dish towel soaked in blood was a disturbing sight in itself. He couldn't imagine how you and Dean were handling things. 

"Not really." You admitted to him. You didn't want to fight your denial when it was clearly written on your face. "I've witnessed a lot of messed up things in my time. But what happened to that poor kid? Seeing him cry like that from pain? For some reason....I don't know. It struck something in me. Made me want to help him. But I couldn't."

"I know what you mean." Sam muttered to himself, quiet enough so he was the only one able to hear. Only that didn't see to be the case when you gave him a strange look from his response. He nodded his head to the files you were still holding. "He'll be okay. You know better than anyone getting fingers attached is possible. Why don't you help me continue looking through these files? There's got to be something in here." 

You didn't know the extent of the kid's injuries just yet, but Sam's insensitive remark made a smile across your face at the truth. Medicine had come far. You picked a spot in the office to crack down on your pile of folders and quickly began to start reading through all of them. Going through everyone who had worked here or spent time at the farm was a tedious task. You didn't have the luxury of researching farther into the people's names other than the information Sonny kept over the years. You thought As you reached the last folder in your pile, you were starting to believe this might turn out to be a dead end. Sam, however, found something odd. The right kind of odd he was searching for. 

You made your way out of your chair and back over to the desk when Sam called for your attention. You circled around and leaned down to hover over Sam's shoulder to read the file he was holding. Your eyes wandered to the photograph clipped to the top of the file. It was of a small boy with glasses. Someone who looked awfully familiar. A heavy sigh fell from your lips when you realized who it was. You'd been trying to find a reason why Ruth and Jack were killed, along with the kid who had been attacked not too long ago. They were all connected by one kid named Timmy. You figured out who to blame, you just needed to find out why. And how to put a stop to it. 

Dean made his way up to Sonny's office after tending to the boys and taking a quick phone call from Sonny himself. You looked up from the file you still had been reading to see Dean. You gave him a worried expression from the heavy sigh that fell from his mouth first. "Kid's gonna need eight thousand stitches, but he'll be fine." The update on the kid was finally enough for you to let out a sigh of relief you’ve been needing to take, but your problem was only at the halfway point. 

"That kid was bullying Timmy before the accident, right?" Sam asked you and his brother for clarification, wondering if the lead you and him had been discussing prior might turn out to be true. Dean nodded his head. You handed over the file to the older Winchester for him to read the documents for himself. "Check this out. Timmy was found in an abandoned building about a year ago all by himself. No one was sure how long he had been there."

"And what about his parents?" Dean asked. 

"Well," You reached out to grab the file back from him after Dean handed it back over to you when he was done with it. The documents told him nothing of importance. "They posted a picture on the internet, but no one ever showed up." 

"Then, what's he doing here?" Dean wondered. "Shouldn't he be in an orphanage?"

"He kept running away from Child Services." Sam said, explaining more of the situation to help paint a better picture. "So about three months ago, Sonny offered to take him in."

"All right, so hard-ass counselors, bullies, all bite the dust, but Timmy's still standing." It didn't take much sleuthing to figure out something was wrong here. You saw from the look on Dean's face he wasn't liking how things turned out. Whenever kids were involved in cases, it made things more complicated. Somehow Timmy was in the middle of all of this. The kid who appeared to be innocent, too nilave to do any real harm. Or so he might have led you all to believe. "So, what are we talking? We got ourselves a Damien on our hands?"

"No. EMF rules out a demon." You said, shaking your head. You thought for a few seconds of what might be to blamed for this. Something you've personally dealt with once before in your time. "So...my guess? Ghost possession." 

"Meaning what, we find Timmy and shove a fistful of salt down his throat, forced ejection?" Dean questioned you about the right method to solve this problem. You shifted your gaze away from the way things were starting to look bleak. Dean didn't want to turn to that direction just yet. There had to be something else all of you could do before the drastic measure was the only option you had left. "One of you is taking the barn this time." 

The both of you agreed to the plan without fuss. Sam decided to check out the barn for himself while you chose to stay close, heading upstairs, leaving the first floor to Dean. He checked a few rooms close by the office to see there was no one in them. He hoped to find Timmy hiding in the bedroom by himself, innocently playing with his action figure and minding his own business. The best thing for situations like this was to keep the kid calm. However Dean found himself veering off track at the sound coming from the living room. He took a few steps forward to the nearby room and poked his head in, discovering an old face he wasn't expecting to ever see again. 

Sitting on the same couch was Robin from the diner, lost in her own world while strumming a few chords, warming up like how she always did before each lesson. Seeing her back again like this brought back another memory of this place. The first guitar lesson Robin had given him after their introduction back at the diner. Small talk turned into Dean answering Robin's questions about himself, things he normally gave half-ass answers to that he'd be asked in the next town. This time he gave more detail, more honesty.

Robin seemed interested to learn more about him as a person, more than most people their age cared to know. Most girls giggled at the smirk he mastered down and the mysterious persona he gave off. Almost none cared to know more than the surface level. Robin wanted to know more. She was curious to know the reason how he landed himself here and why he moved around so much. She asked about the family business, not what it was, but if Dean liked it. The conversation opened up a topic Dean never really was able to discuss before with people, especially ones his age. Himself.

Most of the time Dean lied to avoid small talk about his personal life. No one truly cared to listen to his problems. Robin wanted to. Dean quickly learned she was a great listener. He told the truth to her that day. He didn't like it. But over time he learned it was going to be his future at some point when his father deemed him ready. Someone had to keep the business going after he….retired. Robin empathized. Her waitressing job at her father’s diner was a stepping stone into her taking over the place after she was ready. Both of them bonded over fathers who wanted their children to follow in their footsteps. 

Robin declared she was going to be a photographer. She wanted to explore the world, eat all sorts of crazy foods. Dean's first response was that he wanted to be a rockstar. A stupid reponse when he didn't even know how to play an intstrument. He replied with a more realistic answer that sounded reachable, something he thought about from time to time. A mechanic seemed reachable and interesting, despite the lack of enthusiasm from Robin when she called it rough work. She didn't see it the way Dean did. Cars were like puzzles. He could pick them apart and put them back together, a problem that could leave and not be his responsibility anymore. After that answer, Robin did something he wasn't expecting. She kissed him. Dean would deny the way it took him off guard and how she was able to make him blush. It appeared to be the beginning of a possible relationship. 

At the age of sixteen everything feels like it's going to last forever. The world seemed refreshing and exciting compared to the small town Robin grew up in. Things between the two slowly began to blossom into something more than the few secret making out sessions on Sonny's porch that were supposed to be for guitar lessons. Dean remembered they were supposed to go on a date. Robin's heart was set on it. She was so excited, holding onto Dean's promise that he wasn't going anywhere…

"Oh. Hey." Robin greeted the man after spotting him standing in the doorway, stopping her strumming when she realized he was lost in thought. "What happened to you at the diner? I turned around to take your order, and you were just gone." 

“Long story.” Dean replied. “Have you seen Timmy?” 

"No, not yet, but he should be here any minute for his guitar lesson." Robin said. 

"Yeah, we're gonna cancel that." Dean told her. She looked back up from her guitar and gave him a confused expression, obviously taken back by the sudden shift in plans. "We got to get out of here, okay? I don't have time to explain. You just got to trust me.” 

"Trust you?" Robin quietly scoffed at his words. She set the instrument down by her side and gave the man a look, expressing how she was feeling. The emotions she was trying to hide back at the diner after seeing him after all these years. "And why would I do that again?"

Dean’s expression changed at the realization of her subtle confession. “You do remember me.” 

“How could I forget?’ She whispered to him. 

Dean felt a pang of regret at the sound of her voice, the hurt she was unable to hide anymore. He broke his promise of never leaving her. At the time it felt like the worst thing to ever happen. Being a teenager heightened emotions to the most extremist of levels. Over the years she learned to deal with it. She wasn't hurt about him leaving abruptly. It was that he never tried getting in contact with her. He never wrote, never tried to call. 

Over the years she got over it, forgot about it entirely and continued on with her life. Until she saw him in the diner, with the same damn smile that drove her crazy. Dean stirred up the same emotions he brought out in her when she was sixteen, there was no denying that. Along with the slight twinge of jealousy at seeing a strange woman sitting by his side. The both of them obviously moved on, but in the moment, Robin was overcome with too many emotions to process. It was easier to play pretend than tell him how she truly felt about their unexpected reunion. But she couldn't bite her tongue any longer. 

"There were reasons why I had to leave." Dean tried to explain himself vaguely as possible, knowing he owed her a proper answer. At the moment they didn't have such luxury. There were more important things in the matter. "I don't have time to explain it to you right now. I got to get you out of here." 

"Hey!" Robin shouted in anger when Dean grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her off the couch, dragging her to the front door against her will. "What are you doing?!"

Dean hoped he might be able to get her out of the house before it was too late. He was merely inches away from the open front door before some invisible force slammed it shut. The man knew better than to try prying it open. "I'm sorry." 

Dean and Robin quickly turned around to see the little boy they both were expecting to see any moment now, Timmy. He stood there with a guilty expression from what was about to unfold. “Sorry about what, Timmy?” Dean asked him. 

“I can’t stop it.” He said. 

Dean flinched while Robin let out a terrified yelp when a vase crashed against the wall from behind them, spooking them from the nightmare that was about to unfold. Chaos unfolded around them when Dean instruced Robin to head to the kitchen, trying to get them to avoid the flying debris of breakable objects and furniture the ghost was controlling. Dean grabbed an iron poker from the fireplace set for an extra precautionary move in case whoever was responsible for this tried to show their face. 

You came running down the stairs when you heard the commotion unfolding, calling out the older Winchester's name in a panicked tone. You narrowly missed a lamp flying in your direction when you saw the man standing in the dining room with Robin fleeing for the kitchen. All around you things were breaking and shattering, telling you the ghost was pissed as hell. Everyone needed to get out of here before it was too late. 

Victory of an escape seemed attainable when Sam arrived back from the barn, using the backdoor instead. Dean tried to instruct his brother to leave it open long enough for Robin to escape, only it sealed shut the second after the younger man stepped inside. Much as Sam tried to somehow get the door to budge even the slightest, you could tell it was locked. The ghost wasn't going to let you go anywhere. But it didn't mean you were screwed just yet. You raced to the cabinets, frantically searching for salt before you found a box. 

"Circle." You instructed the younger Winchester, tossing him over the box. 

"Dean, what—" Robin stuttered slightly with her words while trying to form a complete sentence. Everything she was witnessing was too much for her to process. The panic on her face was clear as day. You knew Sam pouring salt on the ground wasn't helping the situation currently unfolding around her. "What just happened in there?”

"Okay, listen to me." Dean spoke to the woman in an eerily calm voice, giving her clear instructions on how to handle the situation if she wanted to make it out of here alive. "Whatever happens, you stay inside this circle. Understood?"

"All right." Sam stood back up after making a circle big enough for Robin to fit comfortably inside, and the rest of you if need be. He turned his head at the exact moment to see Timmy standing there again. "Guys..."

“I can’t control her.” Timmy said. 

“Can’t control who?” Dean questioned the kid. 

"Your mom, right?" Sam guessed the right answer before Timmy could. You furrowed your brow slightly from the person who was responsible for all of this. It seemed Sam found something in the barn his brother didn't. The younger man made his way over to Timmy and crouched down so he was now at eye level. "Timmy, listen. We need you to tell us about the fire, okay?"

Sam found a wall full of disturbing drawings that were clearly done by a child. All of it told a story, the one about how Timmy lost his mother and became an orphan. "It was late, and we were driving home when we crashed in the woods. Everything was on fire. But she saved me, she pushed me out...before the car blew up...with her in it." 

Your heart broke for the poor kid when you listened to the story of how he became an orphan. The way he lost his mother was traumatic enough on someone his age, but having to witness it as well only added more pain. Sam knew the kid wasn't the one responsible for all of this. Possession felt to be out of the question. A ghost was haunting Timmy, following his every move since the accident. Protecting him from any dangers she thought fit. "But that's not all, was it?"

"I ran through the woods. I found an empty building, where I hid. I was scared. It was dark and cold. So I cried. I cried for my mom." Timmy continued on with the rest of the story, helping paint a more broader picture of how all of this came to be. Slowly the pieces were starting to come together. "And she came." 

"But she had changed, right?" Sam asked. He remembered how the drawings Timmy made slowly turned strange and slightly disturbing near the end. His mother turned into a dark figure that loomed over her child, a monsterous guardian destroying any possible threats.  

Timmy nodded his head to answer the man’s question. Your eyes wandered down to the action figure he always seemed to be holding. A smile stretched across your lips from the question you asked him. "I'll bet she gave you that cool action figure, huh?"

"Yeah." Timmy said, looking down at the toy. "When I turned nine." 

"Timmy..." Sam captured the boys' attention again when he figured out what was anchoring his mother's spirit after all. Your eyes darted over to her spirit when she appeared out of thin air. What remained of her body after the explosion left her severely burned and disfigured. "I'm gonna need that action figure." 

Before the younger Winchester could try and put an end to this nightmare, Timmy's mother struck first, throwing Sam across the room. You called out the man's name in a panicked tone while Dean struck the ghost with the iron poker he grabbed for this exact reason. You were given precious seconds to snatch the toy from Timmy when he wasn't suspecting it and went straight to the oven. The kid let out a shout of protest from what you were doing, the only gift he had left from his mother was being destroyed right in front of his eyes. Dean pushed the kid into the circle with Robin to keep him safe. You turned on one of the burners to the highest setting and dropped the action figure into the small flames. All of you watched as the hunk of plastic began to slowly melt, Bruce shouting his catchphrase over and over again until his recorded voice slowly faded into silence. 

You made the wrongful decision in letting out a sigh of relief a little too early, thinking you solved the problem for good. Only you pissed off the spirit even more. You realized your potentially fatal mistake when you felt a gush of wind come out of nowhere, destroying the circle of salt, leaving Robin and Timmy vulnerable to a mother's wrath. If she wasn't pissed off before at you, she sure as hell was now. 

"It looks like it wasn't the action figure that was anchoring her here, guys." Sam pointed out the obvious, making you roll your eyes in frustration. 

"Then what is?!" You questioned him. 

Sam thought for a second of what else might be keeping the woman's spirit here longer than it was intended. His gaze fell upon a scared Timmy. The kid who was innocently to blame for all of this from the things he said that night. "Him." 

Most of the time when you dealt with spirits the only way they could keep from passing over to the afterlife was their body or some kind of object they were able to attach themselves to. Clearly none of those were an option. Sam figured that you might be approaching this all wrong. Your object was inanimate, it was a living breathing human boy who cried for his mother to come back. The boys stepped over to the oven to quickly discuss this and how you were going to be able to solve this.

"You know what? I think maybe his mom can't let go and she's still protecting him from the grave." Sam whispered loud enough for you and Dean to hear, sharing his possible hunch. 

"Protecting him from what?" Deana asked. He thought back to the victims that died at the hands of the woman. All people who made Timmy's life uncomfortable. The pattern was repeating itself again for you. "What, from us?"

"It makes sense." You said. "Maybe she doesn't know what threats are real and what's not, so she just attacks all of them." 

"Great." Dean muttered. He figured there was only one way out of this, one that was dangerous and stupid. Nothing he would ever be able to go through with. "So, what, unless we waste the kid, we're sitting ducks?"

Robin must've overheard what Dean said about potentially hurting a child that didn't do anything wrong. Her mind was still trying to process how doors were able to slam shut on their own and objects flying around the room. She was pushed to her breaking point. You looked over in Robin's direction when you heard her mumble something to herself before darting out the door when she had the chance. Dean called out the woman's name in a frustrated tone and followed after, hoping he might be able to catch up to her before it was too late. 

You and Sam decided to focus your attention on Timmy, figuring you might be able to help make the kid understand better what was going on. You approached the kid and kneeled down to his level after he sank to the ground, thinking if you were at a better eye level he might listen to you better. You gave him a warm smile and tried your hardest to get him to at least consider putting a stop to this once and for all. 

"Timmy, we're gonna need your help, okay?” You told him in a calm, almost neutering voice. You thought of you approached this like you were a parent yourself, hoping you might be able to fool his mother you meant no harm. Timmy barely made eye contact with you. "Listen to me. I need you to focus, okay. We are not here to hurt you. I promise." 

His mother didn't believe in your words. She did what she thought was best for her child, destroying the threat she thought was trying to harm him. You and Sam found yourselves being thrown across the room to get you far away from Timmy as possible. Dean rushed back into the kitchen to see you and his brother were in trouble. But before he could try and help, Timmy's mother struck again, tossing his body where a table broke his fall and crushed underneath the man's weight. All of you struggled to somehow try and break free from the woman's grip she had on all of you. The one person who could put an end to all of this only looked at the chaos unfolding around him, still unsure of what to do. If he was even able to anymore. 

"I can't stop her." Timmy whispered with an almost apologetic tone to his voice. 

“Timmy, you have to try!" Dean told the kid. He tried to reach the kid on a more emotional level to pull out the strength he knew Timmy had. Force the kid to grieve his pain and move on from the past. While the grip Timmy's mother had around his body was making it painful to breathe, even almost impossible to talk, Dean persevered. "She came to you when you cried out for her. Now you have to tell her to stop and go away!"

"She's my mom." Timmy said. He sounded fearful to stand up to the woman who had only tried protecting him. Saying goodbye to her after all she did felt wrong. He thought he would be all alone for good. No one to care for him, no one to love him. And to protect him from the bad things in the world. 

"She's a ghost, Timmy, because she can't move on, she's going crazy. Okay? You got to let her go. You'll be okay." Dean tried to reassure the kid that what he was about to do was the right thing. Timmy was still hesitant. His mother lashed out harder, trying to silence the three of you from making her son do something he didn't want to. "Listen to me. Sometimes you gotta do what's best for you, even if it's gonna hurt the ones you love." 

Timmy forced himself to at least listen to what Dean was saying. He hesitated for a few seconds before he pushed himself up to his feet. He adjusted his glasses before he spoke up, finally doing what needed to be done. "Mommy...stop it." His voice came off timid and too quiet, causing his command to go unnoticed by his mother. Dean managed to use what breath left in his lungs to remind the kid of the trick he taught him when they first met. A Kung Fu grip. All he needed to do was be more firm. "Mommy, stop it! You're hurting people!" 

His words seemed to have done the trick. The grip around your body suddenly vanished, letting you and the boys finally inhale the much needed air you were deprived from. Timmy's mother turned around to face her child. Despite the heinous things she had done, she believed it was the right thing to do. It was all out of love. She opened up her arms and gave her son a smile, a sad smile that begged him not to let her go.

"You have to go. Never come back. I'll be okay. I promise." Timmy comforted his mother. It was the words that needed to be said, not only for himself, but for his mother as well. Both of them needed to properly heal from the tragic night. Slowly, the wounds from the terrible night faded away, leaving Timmy's mother back to the way she always looked. She wanted the last image he'd ever have of her the proper one. She gave him one last painful smile. "I love you, too."

No parent who loves their child wants to leave them against their will. They want to protect them, shield them from the dangers of the world. But Timmy proved to his mother that he was going to be fine. He stood up for himself. All of you watched as Timmy's mother slowly vanished out of your sight, finally letting go and passing over into the afterlife. A moment like this was bittersweet. Timmy was finally able to do what he never could before. But it cost him the chance to ever see his mother again. 

Timmy suddenly ran over to Dean, the one who helped him through all of this. A smile crept across your face at the sight of the man embracing Timmy into a tight hug. He understood the pain of losing a parent. No matter the age, it hurt knowing you were alone in the world. Dean patted the kid on the back and whispered to him that everything was going to be okay.

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[writerpeach]

High Tension

IZ*ONE Miyawaki Sakura x Male Reader

5686 words

categories: smut, oral, semi-public sex, detective! kkura

18+

Note: This is a prequel to Detective Eunbi’s interrogation chapter

Read on AFF

Read on AO3

There wasn’t coffee strong enough to get you through this investigation.    

Over a week had passed since this case started. The body of a man in his mid-forties was found washed up on shore, all signs pointed to the mafia being behind it. It made things both more suddenly complicated and dangerous.

The long workday felt like a complete waste, interrogation after interrogation going nowhere. An important suspect lost after the good cop/bad cop routine went sour with no choice but to let him go without a reason to keep him contained. 

Another witness interview was canceled after they got spooked, either threatened or bought off, or both. Calling it a bad day would be an understatement. 

Frustration was at an all-time high. Evidence was insultingly lacking at this point, whoever put this hit out knew what they were doing and knew how to cover up their tracks. 

You rubbed your temple, trying to erase the pounding headache and doing anything for a sanity check.

A soft voice spoke up and broke up your irritation. 

“Let’s look over the evidence again.”

The voice of your partner, a young Japanese woman, Miyawaki Sakura. She graduated a year early and top of her class, quickly climbing the career ladder and earning the rank of detective in half the time. 

“We don’t have any evidence, that’s the problem,” you said with clear defeat in your voice.

“Then we’ll look at what we have and go from there,” she said, always keeping a calm mind.

You were lucky to have her as a partner. She filled any cracks of your armor, relying more on logic when you relied more on raw emotions. 

The small room that served as your base of operations grew stuffy. Papers were thrown messily all over the table, while the whiteboard was a fractured mess of potential suspects, forming a poorly told story of events that had no rhyme or reason. 

“We have to find out who did this. For respect for the victim and his family," you said as you looked again and again through scarce files and dossiers. Sakura smiled reassuringly across the table.

“It’s okay, we’ll figure this out. We’ll find new leads if we have to, somebody has to know who did this.” 

Sakura always knew what to say when things looked bleak. 

“I wish I shared your confidence. I’ve seen too many unanswered murders lately.” 

“I know it’s tough to be positive right now with what little we have, but we have to persevere. People are counting on us. We can't give up that easily.” 

Sakura’s soothing voice helped put you at ease, as did the radiating smile that always seemed to be on her lips even during the toughest of times. 

“Let's start at the top. Hirai Hitoshi, age 46. Found washed up on shore at approximately 4:30 am. Cause of death was a bullet point-blank to the head. No witnesses so far.” Sakura said, reading over the notes. 

“Yakuza members don’t kill randomly, he was sticking his nose in places they didn’t want it in,” Sakura continued. 

“Hitoshi-san was a prosecutor that remained undefeated for almost a decade until his untimely death.” 

“Very convenient. There’s a trial coming up in a week, three men from the Godo clan are being charged,” you said. 

“So we have the why, now we just need the who," Sakura said, gears turning in her head.

“Which brings us back to where we started. The Godo clan runs several families deep. It could be any clan who orchestrated the hit,” you said, sighing loudly.

You stood up out of your chair and paced around the room, stopping at the whiteboard and the measly evidence that was pinned there.

“We have nothing. “ you said, hanging your head in defeat.

Sakura joined you at the whiteboard. “We’ll find something. Tomorrow is a new day, maybe we’ll get lucky.” 

“Let’s hope so.” 

“Criminals always slip up, they can’t cover up everything. There has to be a clue somewhere, maybe a witness who isn’t scared to speak up,” she said as her determination grew.

“Sounds too good to be true.” 

“Maybe, maybe not. Detective Kwon is coming from the big city to interrogate one of our potential suspects. Word is nobody ever comes away from her without talking. I’ve heard her methods are very unconventional,” Sakura said. 

“Unconventional? How so?”

“Don’t know the details. I just know she’s very good at her job.” 

“I wish I could be,” you said as you took a deep breath, exhaling loudly. Sakura caressed your shoulder gently. 

“You don’t need to wish, you are good. You’re just overworked. We both are.”

“That’s an understatement. Paid vacation seems so far away.”

Sakura squeezed your arm. 

“You’re so tense,” she said, feeling how tight your muscles were.

“Yeah, well this case is driving me insane, “ you said as you stared at the whiteboard, wanting to flip the whole thing upside down. 

“When’s the last time you had a massage?” 

“A massage? Never,” you replied, cocking an eyebrow.

 “You should try it out. I get one every few weeks, it really helps put me at ease. Plus, work covers all the expenses.” 

“Strangers touching me was never my thing.”

“I felt the same way at first, but I got used to it. You’ll feel wonderful after.” 

“I appreciate the offer, but I’ll have to pass.”

“So stubborn still I see,” she laughed.

“It’s who I am.” 

You rubbed your eyes and took a peek at the clock above the whiteboard. It was well past midnight. 

“You need a clear head. You can’t be a good detective if you can’t see straight.” 

“I’ll make sure to pick up a six-pack on the way home then.” 

“That’s not what I meant,” she frowned. “You need to find a way to relieve all this tension in a healthy way,” she said, putting herself in between yourself and the whiteboard, lips grinning widely.

“Are you going to give me a massage, Miss Miyawaki?” you teased. 

“No, I’m not trained for that,” she shyly said. “But I do know how to make you relax."

Her gaze turned deadly as she tilted her head to the side. 

“We’re at work-” Sakura interrupted you by placing a finger on your lips. 

“You can’t use that as an excuse. There’s not a single person still here except forensics, and they’re on the next floor up.” 

“Sakura…”

“You have a girlfriend? A wife?” 

“Negative. I don’t have time for that.” 

“That’s perfect then,” she said. Eyes forward, you met hers, seeing every perfect feature of her pretty face lit up. 

You were very, very, attracted to Sakura. With a body like hers and an equally gorgeous face, how could you not be? But you chose not to act on your desires, instead banking on your professionalism to keep you above water. But when faced with the proposal that you think Sakura was about to give you...

“How long have we known each other?”  Sakura asked, her small hands fiddling and playing with your tie, loosening it up.

“Two years, three months.” 

“Then don’t you think it’s about time we go to know each other, a little... better?” 

Her gaze didn’t weaken as she stepped even closer, growing more confident by the second. It’d be a lie to say you weren’t a bit intimidated at this point. 

“There’s that late-night burger shop that’s open late, I’m sure that’d be a fine place to-” 

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.” 

“Then feel free to tell me what you are then,” you said with a smug expression.

“You should know I’ve been a detective long enough to know when someone is playing dumb.”

“I would never do such a thing,” you playfully said.

“I just think it’s in our best interest if we got to know each other a lot more intimately.” 

“I’d have to agree with that,” you said, a mischievous look now draped on your features. 

Two years of built-up sexual tension came to a close as Sakura’s lips crashed against your own, her hands cupping your face as you wrapped your arms around her small waist. Her taste was delectable, her cherry lips soft and warm. 

Your heart raced as you finished your first kiss, followed by another as her small frame leaned against your body. 

“I’ve never had the chance to tell you how good you always smell,” Sakura said as you pulled her in closer, fully wrapping your arms around her petite body. 

Your lips never left the warmth of each other, not ready to disengage as your lips merged together, bodies pressing together even tighter. Your attention was on the taste of Sakura, her lips doing their job in distracting you as you felt her hand slip down your pants, your body twitching in response. 

With the kiss momentarily broken, Sakura whispered in your ear. “I said I was going to help you relax...and I meant it.” She softly pumped you up and down until you were fully erect, feeling satisfied as she began undressing you. Your tie was gone in no time as she unbuttoned every button with ease, exposing your bare chest as she stripped it off your body. 

Sakura eyed your half-naked body like a delicious meal before giving your chest a quick peck, tossing her heels underneath the table and dropping to her knees, a sinful smile plastered on her lips. 

She stared at the bulge in your pants now the center of attention for several seconds as her hands quickly yanked your pants and boxers off, gasping quietly at your freed cock. There was an obvious hunger in her eyes as she wrapped her slim fingers around it, stroking it up and down slowly as you leaked over her fingers. 

“Guess you needed this badly?” she asked with a grin, licking up and down your length and swirling around your swollen head, causing more pre-cum to dribble out of your dripping slit and catching it all with her tongue as you let out a light groan.

“It’s been a while since I’ve done this, so I hope my oral skills will be up to par,” Sakura nervously said. 

“Nonsense, there’s nothing you aren’t good at.” 

Sakura’s expression became determined, and she wanted to prove herself. Her pretty mouth planted a kiss on your shaft before she swallowed up your tip, silky-soft lips making contact and wrapping around the first couple inches and sucking gently, hollowing her cheeks as you instinctively moan.

The pleasure sent shivers up and down your spine even as she barely took you into her mouth. Her lips felt incredible, so soft and warm and tightly pressed around your shaft. Sakura looked so pretty on her knees as she pleased you and began bobbing her head up and down, applying more pressure and using her tongue alongside her lips, flicking against the underside of your shaft to give even more pleasure.

“You’re definitely still good at that,” you said, interrupting your groans and moans. Sakura looked into your eyes and increased her pace in response, her warm mouth moving forward and giving a loud slurp of your shaft that would drive any recipient of such an intense blowjob absolutely wild.

The lust in Sakura’s beautiful round eyes was obvious as she sucked you off, enjoying it almost as much as you were. She didn’t keep either of her hands idle, one caressing your thigh while the other kept pumping your hard shaft. 

Sakura kept her sultry gaze on you as she kept you inside her wet mouth, her lips sealed tight as they did the majority of the work. Little by little, she swallowed even more of you up, leaving a wet trail of warm saliva glazing your shaft as she took you halfway inside without any trouble. 

With each bob of her head, she edged closer towards the end of your shaft before she withdrew to your tip, her gifted mouth sliding back and forth with ease as if she had done it hundreds of times before.

You took several deep breaths while Sakura worked her magic between your legs, still awestruck by what was happening to you. Her lips went deeper, much deeper, almost to the base of your cock. She gagged a bit with every attempt but didn’t stop, not wanting to disappoint both herself and you, she wasn’t a quitter.

Once Sakura had mostly relaxed her throat and tamed her gag reflex she went wild, using her ability to deepthroat your shaft effortlessly and giving you the full amount of pleasure. 

“Oh fuck, that feels so fucking good.” 

Sakura used her deadly eyes to acknowledge you as she used long strokes from tip to base, slurping on your cock loudly and bobbing her head at a faster pace, using a free hand to fondle and massage your full balls as her own arousal levels spiking at your moans. 

You helped her out - not that she needed it, but you needed an outlet for the sharp pleasure running every fiber of your body and ran a hand through the soft strands of her dark blue hair, guiding her movements. When your tip struck the back of her throat she tightened around your shaft, causing an involuntary series of loud, throaty moans escaping in response. 

She gave it her all, going wild and sucking your cock with a fierceness and speed you had never felt before, resting herself at your base and staring up until she couldn’t take it anymore. Her lips left your shaft and pulled herself off as she furiously stroked your cock, and you were thankful to have a much-needed break. 

“Not bad, huh?” she said, with a strong sense of confidence. 

“Gonna be still feeling that in the morning, it was that good,” you said, feeling a bit lightheaded. “Let me return the favor.” 

Sakura didn’t give any protest and smiled as she stood upright, finding yourself still reeling from the pleasure she had given. She did her part, pulling her white top over her head and showing off her breasts encased in a blue lace bra. They weren’t the biggest, but they matched her body type, nice and perky and plentiful enough to grab a handful of. 

You let aggression take over for a moment and lifted Sakura on the table, laying her down on top of piles of papers and files everywhere. She welcomed the change in mood as you pulled her bra down, exposing her perky pale tits and feasting on them with your eyes.

Like a fire had been lit inside, your lips embraced again, this time with additional tongue, forgoing passionate kisses for sloppy wet kisses which were immediately returned. You kissed down her neck, planting several kisses on her sensitive skin before moving down to her collarbone, and finally reaching her chest. 

Not wasting a second you dove into her breasts and sucked on Sakura’s pretty pink nipples, earning several soft moans, and keeping your hands full as much as possible, sucking harshly and loudly, wet noises matching the volume of her cute whiny moans.

“That feels really good,” she said, her eyes even more filled with lust and desire. 

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted you?” you asked, and continued to lather up her sensitive nipples, suckling on them without any restraint as if you were intoxicated by the sounds Sakura let out.

She shook her head. 

“Since we started working together. I never forget those tight short skirts you always wear. But I kept all my thoughts drowned in my head.”

“Such a professional,” she teased. “But now you have me, so do with me what you want.” 

What a perfect invitation. As if to demonstrate, you placed a hand on her back and picked her up, spinning her body around as her palms went flat on the table. Planting a few kisses on her lower back, you squeezed her ass through her skirt before harshly yanking it down, exposing her delicious backside. Sakura’s ass was perfect, plump and round and the matching blue thong that nestled in between her cheeks was the only thing standing in your way.

You squeezed her warm flesh again wantonly, thoroughly enjoying her body and kneading it for several seconds, the softness of her cheeks brought nothing but joy to your senses. Keeping things going, you brought your mouth to her cheeks and planted your lips on each one, scraping your teeth gently against her skin and nibbling on them just a bit as Sakura gasped. 

“You must like my ass,” she said.

“I love all of you, but especially your ass.” 

“I’ll make a mental note to wear less underwear around you then,” she said, giving a cute smirk. 

Just the thought aroused you even more, and you gave her core a few licks through the delicate thin fabric of her thong, feeling a dampness there already.

“So wet.” 

“I have you to blame for that.” 

A few more licks up and down her pussy through her underwear made Sakura tremble as she moved her hips back towards your mouth. Before you could give her any more momentum you pulled away and flipped her body back over, her thighs planted firmly on the edge of the table as you took in the sight of such a delightful tight body. 

“I never got to tell you what a sexy fucking body you have.”

“Well now you did,” Sakura smiled. You peppered her tight tummy in several places with kisses before kneeling to the ground and grabbed the waistband of her thong. She lifted her legs up to help and you peeled it off her body, spreading her legs wide and enjoying the view. 

“Beautiful.” 

Sakura blushed. The same word could describe both her delicious looking pussy, and everything about Sakura. Her pink pussy lips glistened already, and you couldn’t wait to have a taste. 

You weren’t going to dive right in though, preferring to warm her up even though she was plenty wet. Lips firmly making contact on her soft creamy thighs, you kissed and licked them numerous times, hearing needy moans escaping as you ate them up, debating whether to leave marks on her pristine pale skin. 

Sakura whined. “You won’t tease me will you?” You responded with more kisses on her thighs before looking up.

“Only if you want me to.” 

“I-I don’t. Not now.” 

“Then I won’t,” you replied, giving a long lick up and down her wet slit and tasting her for the first time, proudly earning a cute whimper. 

“So delicious.” 

Running your tongue through Sakura's wet folds, you licked them clean as you explored her pussy. Keeping her legs spread wide open, you watched the contorted pleasure on her face as you dove in and devoured her pussy, sweet juices coating your tongue as every lick made Sakura melt. 

"Y-you're so good at that," she moaned, hips squirming and writhing, trying to grind herself against your tongue. 

You kept one hand on her tight stomach as you ate her out, her encouraging moans being music to your ears. Dragging your tongue up and down her folds you found her sensitive clit and flicked against it, earning even louder moans, this time more high-pitched. 

With your lips sealed against her clit, you turned her into a squirming mess, endlessly turned on by seeing a side of Sakura you never had before. Loud erotic moans continued by the second as she let herself go, juices leaking more and more into your mouth and you lapped up all of her nectar. 

Her taste was unforgettable and you could have eaten her pussy out for hours given the chance. Slow flicks against her clit turned into a merciless speed, feeling her body trembling as she was unable to keep herself stationary as her splayed out limbs moved on their own, chasing that desirable bliss as her hands formed tight fists. 

“Fuck, I'm so close, don’t stop, please don’t fucking stop."

You gave her the extra pleasure she needed, slurping away on her clit and adding extra pressure, honing in and helping her climax. Her moaning went frantic as you kept your lips surrounding her swollen nub, watching the bliss on her face as her movements became uncontrollable.

"I-I'm gonna cum!" she moaned, and not long after you felt her juices gushing into your mouth. Her back arched violently, hips bucking wildly and toes curling as you kept your face in between her thighs. She desperately grabbed your hair and kept you buried against her center as she rode out her explosive orgasm, drenching your lips and chin and feeling absolutely breathless. 

Sakura came beautifully for what felt like several minutes, slowly coming down from her high, chest heaving and gasping for air. Once her senses recovered her glazed over eyes looked into yours, showing approval and deep satisfaction. 

"It's been a while since I came that hard," she said, still struggling to catch her breath and her eyes looking delirious. 

“You’re just saying that.” 

Sakura shook her head. “I’m not. I swear I saw stars for a sec, that’s how good you were.” 

You didn’t know how to respond, but Sakura did. “Let’s not waste time. Fuck me now?” she said, half asking, half commanding.

You rose quickly and obeyed, lining yourself up and finding the right angle as you nudged your shaft against her wet opening. You didn’t enter yet, running your tip between her silky pink lips, feeling the slick collecting against your hard flesh. 

“You said you wouldn’t tease,” she whined, a hint of desperation in her voice.

“I did...but I still need to have a little fun with you.” 

She pouted as you felt more heat around your shaft, running yourself through her wetness. You aimed your cock carefully pushed forward against her hole, parting her wet pussy lips enough to penetrate her tight walls. You both gasped. 

Sakura was insanely tight. Most girls you’d been in were tight, but not like this, she had a vice-like grip on your cock. Her wetness was equal to how tight she was, and before even moving you just rested inside her and savored the sensations around your shaft. 

You watched for any discomfort as you pushed deeper inside Sakura, feeling even more tightness as she was filled halfway before withdrawing and earning another whine. 

Not giving her a chance to complain again you entered her again, slowly moving inch by inch until you had filled her to the hilt, resting every bit of your cock inside Sakura and keeping an eye on how she reacted to you. 

Her expression showed she was more than ready, and with the wetness you felt surrounding your cock she certainly felt ready, you cursed yourself for taking this long to do this. 

“You okay?” you asked. 

“I’m fine. Fuck me,” she demanded. You were quick to give in to her whims, using your hips as you moved in and out slowly, feeling your shaft being smothered with how wet and tight she felt, not to mention the incredible warmth that flooded everywhere and overwhelmed your senses. 

With your hands grabbing her slim her waist you pumped inside her at a gentle pace, wanting to feel every bit of her tight pussy and every sensation that smothered your cock. 

“Fuck, you’re so big. We never should have waited this long.” 

“We shouldn’t have. You’re so fucking tight, Sakura.” 

“I am, right? Fuck me, you feel so good inside already.” 

Her words and moans were the best encouragement, keeping steady hands on her waist as you upped the pace, thrusting more of you inside as your shaft became wetter. 

“That’s it, fuck me harder,” she demanded. Her hot flesh wrapped so tightly around your shaft as you moved in and out of Sakura, you felt like you were in another world. Her body was so tight and perfect, slim in all the right places with beautiful pale skin everywhere.

With every single thrust, you filled her tight hole up, your cock fitting so perfectly inside her as you stretched her out wide, feeling those slick walls forming around your cock and keeping you inside her where you belonged. 

It wasn’t enough to just fuck Sakura, you needed to experience all of her as you lifted her legs straight up into the air and let her ankles rest on your shoulder, never stopping the motion of your thrusts for a second. 

As you hugged her perfect legs Sakura felt much tighter, letting her satisfaction be known as you gave deeper and harder thrusts, her warm wet flesh feeling so damn good to plunge all of your cock into. It helped that she had gotten even wetter, her slick juices helping out with lubrication to allow smooth penetration as you slid in and out of her. 

“You’re so deep. I love it. Keep stretching me out.” 

You quickened the pace even more to Sakura’s delight, her eyes filled with pleasure and lust as you fucked her hard enough to make the table shake. Thankfully, her frame was small enough that you didn’t think it was a problem, but you decided to move the action elsewhere just in case. 

With a few more deep thrusts you scooped her off the table, withdrawing and carefully pulling her body off and licking her several times before rotating her body so her back was towards you. Nearly ripping her bra open, you yanked it off her body, leaving the two of you fully nude as piles of clothes strayed everywhere both on the floor and the table in front. 

“I rarely see you this aggressive. I like this side of you,” Sakura said, showing a smirk that didn’t last long as you bent her tight petite body over, her palms resting on the grey table. She looked back silently, eyes giving off what she needed. 

“I’m warmed up enough, go all in,” she demanded. 

Such an undeniable request would not go unanswered as you pushed her down even flatter, her back arching as you ran your hands all over her warm smooth skin. You didn’t let her stay empty for long, sliding back inside her with one long stroke to the hilt, allowing her tight walls to squeeze around you as began another rhythm as you began fucking her from behind. 

“Fuck...right there,” she said as you hit her spot with ease, spending little time with build up as you worked back up to your steady pace. With both hands grabbing her hips, she kept her back arched as you began to slam your hips against her ass, flesh jiggling every time you plunged in deep. The room became hotter as your bodies warmed up, sweat misting over the skin of both parties. 

“That’s so good, you fuck me so well.” 

Sakura looked back ever often as you thrusted harshly inside her pussy, letting you know she was enjoying everything you were doing to her. She reached behind her and found one of your wrists, guiding it to her breasts, and you got the message as you cupped and squeezed them both, hips moving wildly and uncontrollably.

The harder you fucked Sakura the wetter she felt, keeping your hands full of her perky tits as you played with her nipples, teasing and bringing out all the sensitivity in them as you kept yourself moving in and out as deep as possible in her.

You wanted to up the ante, not satisfied with such a simple position and grabbed both of Sakura’s slender arms and brought them behind her, pulling her body back up until she was mostly upright. Still keeping the motion going during the change of position, you hooked her arms and brought her body up against your chest as you took away her control.

With her ability to grab anything taken away you went wild, pounding into her tight hole as fast and hard as you could, pistoning into her hot pussy with every bit of energy and force as she screamed in delight. 

Sakura’s cries of pleasure went on and on as you hit all the right spots, your sweaty bodies smacking against each other, as harsh sounds of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room. You were taking all of your stress and tension out on fucking Sakura, and she was more than happy to absorb it all, every thrust powerful and strong and without warning, she came again. 

She drowned your cock in her slick juices, messily leaking everywhere and you tried to keep her upright as her legs turned to jelly as you fucked her through her powerful orgasm, only slowing down your pace when she had ridden it all out. 

Sakura could barely stand, her legs still shaking rendered useless as you helped her over to the table and she braced herself against it.

“You okay?”

She hesitated for a moment before answering. 

“Never been better,” she said in between tired breaths and laid down on the table in a familiar position, flat on her back. 

“As much as I want to ride you I don’t think this table will hold us both.” 

“There’s always the floor,” you teased. 

“Nothing’s sexier than a girl with rug burn,” she said mockingly. 

“Table it is then.”

And just like before she spread herself out, this time her completely nude body ripe for the taking, legs spread wide and arms over her head. 

“Besides, I like seeing your face when you fuck me.”

With smiles exchanged you didn’t waste time, sliding back inside her, her wetness being even more abundant now. 

“You’re drenched. You always get this wet?” 

She nodded her head. “When somebody makes me cum as hard as you did, yes. I get even messier when there’s a bed involved,” she said with a devilish smile. “Now come on, it’s your turn.” 

Trying to process her words, you resumed thrusting full speed, knowing that the finish line was just in reach. Gripping her soft warm thighs, you kept the rhythm up, every thrust deep as possible as Sakura grabbed both sides of the desk, desperate for anything to hold on to. 

Words didn’t mean much for either of you at this point in time, communication only existed in moans and obscenities. You made every thrust count as her perky breasts bounced as best as they could, driving your cock deep inside her pretty pussy and never wanted to leave her wet warmth. 

Sakura let her eyes close temporarily as the pleasure took hold over both of you, letting you savor the use of her body as your hips pistoned like a machine. The wet sound of her tight hole being drilled was the only thing you could focus on, you couldn’t hold on much longer. 

“Sakura…” you gasped out, unable to say much more than her name on your lips. Her eyes opened, sparkling wide. 

“Just cum inside me.” 

She didn’t need to say anything else. Her thighs still in your hands, you pumped yourself inside her for as long as you could without slowing down, both of you eagerly awaiting your climax.

The air in the room became lighter, everything else was a blur as you buried your cock inside Sakura’s pussy. Her gaze striking and anticipating your release, you hit your limits and let go of everything before erupting. Groaning loudly and throbbing inside her, you shot your thick cum deep inside Sakura, filling her up deep with your warmth to the brim, emptying everything you had saved up until her walls were a sticky mess. 

You kept moving inside her until you couldn’t as Sakura milked every drop out of your shaft, resting inside her as your orgasm ran wild over your body. Sakura had watched every second of your explosive climax and loved every moment. 

“It feels so good. Fuck, it’s so thick and warm,” Sakura said with an enthusiastic grin. 

You kept yourself inside her a while longer, not wanting to escape her warmth but also wanted to see the mess you had left inside her. You slowly withdrew your cock an inch at a time, and immediately your creamy load began leaking out of her splayed lips and dripping down her flushed thighs. 

“I should clean that off,” she volunteered. Too tired to respond, you watched as she gingerly moved off the table and knelt, gathering what was left on your depleted shaft, licking clean the combination of both of your fluids and satisfied with it all. 

“How’s that for some tension relief?” Sakura asked, giving an exhausted smile.

“I...really needed that. Thanks.” 

“You did, but no need to thank me. What good of a partner would I be if I didn’t help you out?” 

“Couldn’t ask for a better partner.” 

Sakura scrambled around the room retrieving her clothes and took a seat back on the table. She looked beautiful in the light, her hair out of place, sweat glistening all over her body, you didn’t want the sensual image to be broken.

“Not yet. I like seeing you naked.”

She smiled shyly in response. “Do you now? It was your first time seeing me like this. With any luck, it won’t be the last.” 

“You have more plans for me, Miss Miyawaki?”

“Of course. Not done with you just yet. Might turn this into a weekly thing.” 

“Let’s make it twice a week.” 

“Don’t get greedy on me,” she laughed. “But I could live with that.” 

“Sounds perfect. They have showers upstairs you know.”

“Wanting to go again so soon?” 

“I’m just getting started.” 

“In that case, let’s skip the shower and you can spend the night at my place.” 

“Think you can handle me all night?” you asked teasingly.

“Oh, I think it’s me you’ll have trouble with. You always did run out of stamina before I did,” she fired back playfully. “You can pick up a spare shirt in the morning, there’s a convenience store two blocks from here.” 

“What are we waiting for then?” 

[bi-writes]

notorious: reboot — chapter six respect

You will regret underestimating me and everything that I am.

type: series, alternate universe detail: mob!tom word count: 9.9k warnings: mature language and themes, nsfw themes series masterlist

You didn’t need to be saved. Being saved was for children, and you were not a child. The countless hours you spent getting knocked over, hit, punched, and thrown around were all in preparation for this. In the real world, tapping on your opponent’s arm didn’t stop their tightening chokehold. In the real world, the exercises didn’t end when your opponent had knocked you down or held a blade to your neck or had the gun to your head.  

You just died. That was it. One mistake, and your story would be over. You wondered if this was your mistake. Laying in soft cotton sheets, warmth all around you, with your eyes on his handsome face. He was so pretty like this.  

You reached over slowly, your hand finding the messy, ruffled curls on his forehead and pushing them back. You exposed his closed eyes. His cheek was pressed into the pillow, soft breaths coming from between his lips, and just the faintest line of sunlight hit his chocolate curls. You smiled, just a little bit, just a tad.  

Oh, baby girl…what have you done?

Your phone buzzed on the bedside table. You sat up in bed, reaching for it quickly, answering the phone call. You checked to make sure Tom was still asleep before putting the phone to your ear.  

“Hey, daddy,” you said softly. You kept playing with Tom’s hair. You couldn’t help yourself. His curls were so soft and bouncy, and without any product in them, it was almost comforting to touch them.  

“Hello, sweetheart. You haven’t called me. If it weren’t for De Luca filling me in, I would think something happened to you.”

You sighed, “I’m sorry. I’ve just been…caught up with work.”

“Work?”

“The jobs I do. For Tom.”

“Right. Your little…deal.”

You looked down. When your father heard about the agreement between you and Tom, he nearly got on a plane that minute. He had yelled, scolded, and spat at you for being young, incompetent, and selfish. You let him scream as much as he wanted to, and then you told him you weren’t leaving. You were furious. It had been months since you had spoken to him. You figured if he was calling you, he needed something from you.

“It’s not a little deal, daddy,” you rolled your eyes. “He promised me the information in exchange for a little work.”

“I know what you agreed upon, and you knew I wouldn’t like it. That’s why you waited until you signed your name before you told me. You knew even I would have to honor an agreement like that,” he said, clearly disapproving of your methods. You looked down. You wondered what De Luca had told him.  

Nothing about how I get things done probably.

“Well, no one on either side has died yet, so I would call it a success,” you shot back.

“And what will he do when he finds out that you know it’s him? Hmm? I got men in all corners, sweetheart, telling me Tom is running things down there. Does he think we’re that stupid, y/n?” He scoffed. You closed your eyes for a moment, thinking. It occurred to you, but just a few hours ago, he had his lips on your neck and his fingers inside of you and a heat in his chest that told you otherwise.

He’s mine now.

“No. He thinks I’m distracted,” you lowered your voice, looking down at him. He hadn’t moved. “We’ve gotten…close.”

“Close? Close how?”

You slid out of bed slowly, opening the balcony doors beside the bed. You stepped out, looking out as the sun rose above the horizon. It was barely going to be morning. It was sort of peaceful outside, watching it come up.  

“We’re close, daddy. How close do you think? You’re not…you’re not stupid.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. You wondered if something just distracted him or if he was thinking of Tom Holland touching his daughter. You figured he would be more upset about Tom touching something that he thought belonged to him than you being with dangerous men.

“If you’re that close, why don’t you just kill him?” He asked, in a voice so calm that it should’ve scared you, but you just stared out at the lake behind the house. You blinked for a moment. That question was valid, but the thought never occurred to you. Killing Tom would’ve been messy, and nothing good would have come of it. If your father had taught you anything, it was to not make a mess when you didn’t have something to clean it up with.

“Because I don’t have what I want yet,” you said softly. “For all it’s worth. You know…you and mom were pushed out of Manhattan a long time ago, and you never even got the chance to fight for it. Wouldn’t it be nice to…get it back?”

Your father was quiet for a moment. You knew you would hit a nerve, talking in that sweet voice about New York City. Your father didn’t care for the city that much, but New York was a sweet spot for resources, money, and property. It spoke a language that your father understood more than anything: power.  

“Your mother and I…we loved the city,” he said gently. “And it pained me to take her away from her home. You know, that’s where you were born.”

You smiled a bit.

“I know,” you looked down at your nails, picking at some of the polish. “I’m going to make it right, daddy. I promise. I-I…I know what I need to do.”

“y/n…you know there’s only one way to get those kinds of things in our world,” your father said lowly, cautiously. “And if you go through with this, it won’t be easy. You’ve been playing a part, baby, but if you do this, there’s no going back. Even if all goes well, after Tom is gone, you won’t be allowed to take on another lover, you understand that, don’t you? That’s how it works with people like us. And not to mention you’ll have to pretend all the way to the end. Live a lie. That’s not the kind of life I wanted for you.”

You felt tears in your eyes, barely. Your father was pretending to care, but you knew he wasn’t speaking those words because he loved you, he was telling you not to get more involved with Tom because then you wouldn’t be able to serve as his little pawn, his little princess. It only struck you at that moment that maybe your father hadn’t sent you to New York to prove everyone wrong, he sent you there to prove him right.  

Because if I fail, he’ll drag me back to Los Angeles by my hair. And he’ll never let me go.

“It’s the life that mom wanted for me,” you said weakly. “What do you think she was doing when you weren’t there, daddy? She did this so I could…so I could give it all to you. She knew you had your priorities in California, but I…I didn’t. And I don’t. Dad, if I…if I finish this, it’s not just Manhattan. It’s Brooklyn, Queens, the whole fucking thing, and London. Jesus, daddy, we’d run the whole goddamn thing.”

He chuckled a bit on the other end. You knew he would like that. It would buy you his love, even just for a little while.

“I guess I would need a princess on the other side running those things, wouldn’t I?”

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you squeezed the edge of the balcony.  

He doesn’t mean it. Stop fooling yourself. He knows. He knows.

“Y-You mean that, daddy?” You laughed a bit, breathless.

“Of course I do,” he said lowly. “y/n, all these years that I’ve looked the other way…you were right in front of me. My daughter, my star…my own flesh and blood. I love you, y/n.”

I hate you.

You heard the creak of the floorboards coming from inside, and you swallowed hard.  

“He’s coming,” you whispered into the phone, and you set the phone down, putting it on speaker.  

“So what will you have me do, y/n?” Your father’s voice was loud, but you pretended not to see Tom waiting by the door behind you. He was shirtless, just in his sweats, peeking out as he leaned against the doorway, listening intently. He wasn’t trying to hide, but you pretended not to notice him.  

“I love him, daddy,” you said softly, sincerely. “Even after all of this is over…after…I can’t leave. I’m in love with him.”

You’re not lying, are you?

Your father let out a sigh on the other end, and you waited. You wondered if your father believed that as the lie it was intended to be. You hoped he would.

“I will come to New York, y/n,” he took that as your cue. “And I will give him your hand. If that’s what you want.”

You smiled, “really? You’d do that for me?”

Tom straightened up a bit behind you, his brows furrowing. The thought of marrying you crossed his mind when he first met you, but after months of teasing and kisses and late nights, he never thought you were a woman he could tie down. He was trying to come up with a plan, something different, because you seemed so aloof and untamable.

Also because you care, you prick. You care about her.

“Anything for you, y/n,” your father said gently. “Love in this world is not common. When I found your mother and knew what I felt, I made sure I left with what I wanted. We don’t have many chances, and when we do have them, we must take them as they come.”

You didn’t love mom. You didn’t love her at all.

“When will you come?” You asked, putting your hair behind your ear. Tom watched you carefully, watching your profile. How you had a smile on your face, a blush on your cheeks. You looked hopeful almost.  

Sweet.

“Soon, sweetheart,” your father chuckled. “You realize that I’ll be negotiating with him…even if you’re to be married. If he loves you, he’ll give me something to have your hand.”

You laughed, but there was venom in your eyes, “yes, daddy. I promise not to get offended.”

You said your goodbyes, hanging up the phone, and you jumped in feigned surprise as you felt two arms come around your waist, pulling you close. Tom’s warmth was all around you again, and you could feel his heavy breaths as he pressed you into his chest.  

“y/n,” he murmured, and you put your hands over his.

“T-Tommy, I…How…How much did you hear?”

“Enough,” he chuckled a bit, kissing your bare shoulder. “Enough to know that you want your father to come to New York and negotiate the terms of our marriage.”

His voice didn’t sound angry, but he wasn’t pleased.  

“Y-You weren’t supposed to hear that,” you whispered, and he turned you around to face him. Your eyes met, and his were so dark, so suspicious.  

“You come to New York, get cozy with an Englishman, and now you think you’re ready to marry me?” Tom raised a brow, and you looked away. You wanted him to think he was embarrassing you, that he held something over you.

“Before my father does it for me…yeah,” you swallowed. Part of it was the truth. Even if you never came to New York, you knew you were going to have to do this eventually. You had to find someone before your father did. You weren’t afraid of many things, but at home, you were always on edge. If you weren’t prepared to take things into your own hands, you were always afraid your father would do it for you. The only thing you could truly be afraid of was someone else deciding on you for you.

I can never escape this world, but I still want to live in it, not die in it.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You know how it works for people like us, Tom, don’t…don’t pretend,” you pushed away from him a bit. “Daughters are pawns, not gifts. If I didn’t choose, he’d choose for me.”

“It’s not the bloody eighteenth century, darling, your father wouldn’t arrange your marriage.”

“You say that, but if I don’t let him do this, if I don’t convince him, then…then I’m going to wake up one day, he’s going to put a gun to my head, and he’s going to walk me into a room with a man I don’t know, and he’s going to marry me off like a goddamn animal. So yeah. Maybe it’s not the eighteenth century, Tom, but my daddy’s a little old-fashioned. And he does business that way,” you snapped. “I’ve got cousins forced halfway across the world to marry men they don’t know to mend bridges my father burned himself.”

You came close to him, putting a hand on his chest. Tom felt a prideful swell in his heart as you touched him. He could see it in your eyes. You needed something from him, and you could only get it from him. He thought about a day like this many times before, but he didn’t realize how much his heart ache when you were finally asking him for something, anything.

“Tom,” you looked up at him. “I know we’ve only known each other for…six months. And I know…things haven’t been…”

Tom put his hand to the back of your neck, holding you to his chest. There was still guilt inside of him, still images in his head of you covered in blood, images that Harrison and Mariposa had helped create. They did it purposefully. They wanted Tom to know, they wanted Tom to remember, and it worked because there was regret inside of him, and it was drilling into him like a slow-moving bullet that he couldn’t stop.

“I know, y/n. I know.”

“I really need you to do this for me, Tommy,” you said softly, your voice breaking a bit. “I know it’s a lot to ask, and I know…I know maybe you pictured someone different, but I really need you.”

I really need you.

“You realize what you’re asking of me, don’t you?” He ran his fingers through your hair. Despite his words, his touch was soothing, and you craved more. “Marriage?” Tom scoffed a bit. “I am not a man that gets married, darling. I’m all the way at the top. If I’m married, it’s for life.”

Tom wanted it to seem like he didn’t need you like you needed him, but as the words left his mouth, he wanted to take them back.  

I am yours, and you are mine.

You let go of him, pacing in the bedroom slowly. Tom sat down on the bed, lighting himself a cigarette to pass the time. You hated it when he smoked. You hated smoking. You had picked it up because of him, and now you wished all you had done was leave them out for the rats.  

“What do you think I am, Tom? When my father’s gone? Who do you think he’s going to give everything to?” You shook your head. “He’s going to give it to me.”

Tom let out a breath through his nose. He raised a brow. “You’re sure of that?”

You played with your fingers, brushing your hair back. “My father’s too proud to give it to anyone else. He doesn’t have any other children. It’s just…it’s just me. I’m all he’s got.”

“Yes, but we don’t give our businesses to women who don’t know how to run it,” Tom informed you. You turned around quickly, narrowing your eyes at him. “y/n, don’t look at me like that. You’re a bloody good woman, and you know how to get the job done. But you don’t command men, you don’t…you don’t organize meetings, you don’t…you don’t deal with suppliers and distributors and the accounts. You don’t know. It isn’t a question of your ability or your character, it’s just a statement about your experience.”

Tom did mean that. He had reservations about marriage from the beginning. He was so set on it at first, so convinced that he could snatch it right up when he first met you. Then, he learned better. Rumors had it that your father and you weren’t on the best of terms, and that was enough to keep Tom at bay. He had yet to see you do much more than provide intel and break a few bones. He was worried that perhaps you were not the heiress the world thought you to be, and for that, he had to be cautious. Harrison was adamant about such things.

All the more reason to put a bullet in your head. What’s new? Men that know nothing about what you can do? Nothing’s new. Nothing’s changed. You went from one man who underestimated you to another. They will never learn. They will never respect you for what you are.

You came over to the bed and snatched the cigarette out of his mouth, stubbing it out. You brushed out your hair a bit before going for the door.

You have to take it, from both of them. You have to take it, and you can’t say sorry when you have to step on both of them like the bugs that they are. They are shit under your shoes. You are better than them.

“The smoke is getting to your head, Tom,” you said finally. “You’re talking out of your ass now.”

“Where are you going?” He demanded as you opened the door.

“Away from you.”

You shut the bedroom door behind you and padded down the hall towards the staircase. You put your hand on the railing and made your way downstairs to the kitchen. Two boys sat there at the counter, cups of hot coffee between their hands and their suit jackets thrown over the back of the living room couch. They had pretty dark curls just like Tom. You had seen them at your initiation and occasionally around Tom’s office, but you had never said a word to them.

“Good morning, lovey,” one of them said to you. You grabbed a mug and started to fill it with some of the coffee they brewed. It smelled strong, but you needed it, desperately.

“Late night? Or early morning?” You asked, turning to face them. They both smiled at you a bit, one cockier than the other, and you smiled a bit right back. Tom’s family seemed the same, more or less. Cocky, egocentric, arrogant boys that loved to get in trouble.  

“Late night,” he replied. He held out his hand for you to shake. “Allow me. Harry.”

The other outstretched his hand, “Sam.”

You came forward and shook both of their hands, “y/n.”

At the sound of your name, they both smiled wider, sinister smiles, almost catlike. They knew you, and they knew you well.  

“Oh, we know who you are,” Harry snickered a bit. “Tom doesn’t shut up about ya.”

Your smile faded a bit, and you rolled your eyes, “I’m sure,” you muttered. “Your prick of a brother needs me, but he doesn’t act like it.”

“Needs you?”

“All the intel you’ve gotten on the Russians still running around Hell’s Kitchen? All from me,” you shrugged. “The only reason your brother doesn’t have Manhattan up in flames is because of me.”

“We just heard Viktor’s dead,” Sam frowned a bit. “I could only assume—”

“That was me, too,” you took a sip of coffee, staring out a bit distantly. “I…last night, I…”

It struck the twins at that moment that you were Tom’s little weapon. They knew Tom was doing something, but the news was always discreet, quiet, and never in the papers. Of course it had to be a woman doing things for him.

They’re the only ones smart enough to keep their mouths shut and their guns down.

“Jesus,” Harry shook his head. “All that blood. That was Viktor?”

Your gaze fell to the floor, and you swallowed. Thinking about how not even twelve hours before, you were sitting in a luxury bathroom surrounded by broken glass, flashing lights, and a dead man.

“Yeah,” is all you could say. Sam and Harry glanced at each other before looking back at you. Harry clicked his tongue, shaking his head again. Tom had a good woman doing the dirty work, and he knew that Tom refused to give anyone but himself any credit. Tom was selfish like that, thinking he was the only person that deserved respect. It was evident to Harry that you had yet to get any from him, at least not willingly.

Harry pulled out a notebook from his pocket and a sleek Montblanc pen, scribbling on a page before ripping it out. He slid it across the counter to you, where his name and a few scrambled numbers were written across it. Sam snatched the pen and leaned over, scribbling his own digits onto it.

“You ever need somethin’, love,” Harry said lowly, “and our prick of a brother doesn’t answer, you call these numbers.”

You smiled just a little bit, staring down at the crumpled paper in your hands. The writing was messy, but the numbers meant something. They respected you enough to give you a direct line to them if you needed help, if you needed family. They had seen you draw blood, and somehow they were the only Hollands in the household to remember that fact.

You folded up the paper, putting it in your pocket. “Thanks.”

“Harry’s got balls,” Sam shrugged, leaning back, and Harry nudged his brother.

“Sam does the numbers,” he informed you. You looked between the both of them.

“You work for Tom?”

“Work with Tom, don’t insult us like that,” Harry snickered, and you laughed a bit. They were charming, you had to give them that, and their banter was distracting you from the boiling hatred for Tom sitting in your chest.

“Although lately it seems as if we don’t,” Sam shrugged. “It sounds like all of our business is somehow yours now.”

There was something bitter in his voice. Like he was searching for answers and couldn’t find them, and now that he had, he was disappointed with the result.  

You tilted your head to the side, “I-I don’t understand.”

“Tom takes the Russian business delicately,” Harry chimed in. “He doesn’t trust anyone but us to take care of it. Because if he can’t control them, we’re vulnerable to the groups the city still has.”

“But it sounds like Tom’s been giving you those orders,” Sam looked down at his coffee. “We’ve been a bit…bored lately.”

Bored. You mean your killing count hasn’t gone up. Lovely.

You put the coffee down, biting your lip. “Has he been…asking you to look into things in Brooklyn?”

“Aye,” Harry nodded his head. “Brooklyn, Queens, the likes. Been around those parts often lately. Been chasing some fuckin’ ghost, and we come up empty-handed every bloody time.”

You frowned, looking away for a moment. Tom was redirecting his own people to figure out things in Brooklyn. It meant he was scrabbling, surely. Tom had no idea what was going on, that much was clear. He kept his face calm, but you wondered how anxious he was underneath thick skin.

Something isn’t right. It wasn’t Tom. He has his brothers playing detective while you hold up Manhattan, and he’s spreading his men out because he doesn’t know what’s going on, does he?

You let out a breath, picking up the coffee mug. You wondered how such a small conversation with his brothers could reveal so much vulnerability underneath Tom’s kingdom.  

“It was nice to meet you both,” you said softly, going back upstairs.

If Tom didn’t take the money, who did?

Who’s hiding from me?

You held your drink up in hand, scrunching your nose as you watched Mariposa flick the quarter in her hand. Everyone at the table sat up a bit, anxious, and you cheered as the quarter fell right into shot glass, a huge smile coming over her face as she brushed her curls out of the way.

“Salud, cabrones,” Mariposa giggled, and all the boys at the table grumbled as they tipped their heads back, downing their shots. You nudged each other as the sounds of glasses slamming onto the table sounded, and Harrison threw an arm around her shoulders, kissing her temple, a drunk smile on his face.

“How are you two so bloody good at this?” Sam coughed, punching his chest a bit. The alcohol burned going down his throat, but it felt good. You were a bit drunk, the twins were a bit drunk, and Mariposa and Harrison were looking at each other like nothing else existed. You swallowed as you watched them smile at one another. Your hand was empty now, and you wondered why Tom wasn’t there to fill it.

It was hard now, to draw the line between playing an act and really feeling something. Moments like these, spending time with people you genuinely cared about, you wished he was here. You had grown used to it. Surrounding yourself with people that had your back, and after the other night, you were certain Harrison had yours.  

You’ve earned their respect, but when it all comes crashing down, who will be beside you?

“What do you think we did when we were eighteen in New York City?” Mariposa laughed. “All we did was go to parties and polish up our skills.”

Everyone laughed, and you smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. You looked around a bit for Tom. He was stuck in the back, in a meeting, but he assured you all he was alright and ushered you all to stay in the back and relax. You all had, playing drinking games and telling stories, and the boys were relieved to finally have women to impress, even though Harrison would glare if the twins stared too long at Mariposa.  

The twins had laughed about Tom’s first days in the business, even shown you a few pictures of Tom’s cheeky smile and array of flashy jewelry. Harrison was no better. They had no idea what to spend their newfound riches on, and it was nice to smile at what they used to be. Tom didn’t have those eyes anymore, or that smile. You knew what had done that to him. Blood, death, and sleepless nights had turned those eyes into nothing but dark coal, and there was nothing that could bring them back to their sweet colors. Tom had notches on his belt, death on his hands, and he never knew whether the blood on his clothes was that of others or his own.  

Tom was beaten and molded into what he was now. A man, yes, not a boy anymore, but he was a man molded out of experience, secrets, and lawlessness. Maybe that was why you loved him so much, as much as you tried to tell yourself otherwise.

Two sides of the same coin. One and the same. We are nothing but reflections of each other.

“Oi, y/n, you got all doe-eyed looking for my shithead brother,” Harry pointed out, and you looked back at all of them. You shook your head, coming out of your daze.  

“No, I’m just…”

Everyone laughed and made a few whooping noises, and Mariposa hit Harrison in the chest for whistling. You slid out of the booth, nodding at them. Maybe you were doe-eyed looking for Tom. But ever since you killed someone for him, you couldn’t stop trying to find him in places where he wasn’t. New York had changed you in the last six months, so much so that you were looking for comfort because you had touched it, felt it, tasted it, and you ached for it. Your father had never lent you a shoulder or kissed your tears away, but Tom had.

And I’m a mess for it.

“I’ll go get another round.”

“And take a lap looking for my mate?” Harrison raised a brow. Harrison could see the longing in your eyes, in your posture. You were fiddling with your fingers and shifting on your feet. “y/n, if he was worried, he would’ve said to look out for him, or even asked us to be in that room.”  

“I know,” you smiled a bit. “I just…”

Mariposa shushed them all, slamming her hand on the table. “y/n, go get your man. We’re bonding here, shouldn’t he be here?”

You pushed the curtain aside as you came out of the back room, and you looked around the club, squinting your eyes to see through the changing lights. You made your way to the bar, tapping on it as you ordered more drinks for the table.  

“…yeah, Tom’s girl is here,” you heard a voice say. Your head turned a bit as you craned your neck to listen. You recognized the voice.

“We don’t know what the boss is up to, we have no idea what she is.”

“Are you kidding me? She does so much shit for Tom, she might as well be.”

“She’s an asset, that’s all. He saw someone who could get shit done. Doesn’t mean they’re together.”

“Are you serious? A woman like that? No way Mr. Holland isn’t fucking her. Jesus, she walks into the office, and I’m fucking floored every time.”

You rolled your eyes a bit, laughing to yourself. Tom’s lackeys were always nice to you, always good to you, but they were such predictable men. You asked for a scotch, taking the single glass and going towards the back again. You kept walking though, to the door with two lackeys on either side. You moved to go in, but one of them stopped you.

“Mr. Holland asked not to be disturbed,” he said to you, and you tilted your head to the side.

“Michael, I think we’ve been over this. Have some respect or I’ll have you on your ass if you speak to me like that again,” you snapped, and he closed his mouth as you put your hand on the door and opened it. Tom was sitting with a few men, all around a makeshift poker table. The room was filled with smoke leaking from the cigars and cigarettes on the table, and it stunk like ash and old cardboard and dry liquor. There were five men besides Tom sitting around the table, all glittering with blood money and grinning with sinister smiles. Tom was the only one with a straight face, and he was the only one sitting at the table under 30 years old.

“Ahhhh, Mr. Holland, is this the wonder woman we’ve all been hearing about?”

Tom turned his head to look towards the door where you stood, holding his drink in one hand. Your eyes darkened a bit, and you came towards him, your heels the only sound echoing through.

“Wonder woman?” You questioned, laughing a bit. “Hardly.”

“My sources tell me a Russian man is dead by your hands.”

“Yeah, well, he shouldn’t have put his where they didn’t belong,” you said firmly, setting down Tom’s drink in front of him. He took it from you, taking a sip of it, his nose twitching a bit. You could tell he wasn’t happy in the slightest for interrupting his big bad meeting.

“My, my,” some of the men around the table chuckled. “I’m going to need to get me one of those, gentlemen.”

There was laughter around the room, and you rolled your eyes. Tom made eye contact with you, and he shook his head just enough, his eyes begging you to leave. You wouldn’t leave. There was something you wanted from Tom, and you were going to get it. Tom could lie to you all he wanted, he could paint a story and show it to you all day every day, but he was just like your father. You had to choose before he chose for you.

Shit under your shoes, that’s all they are. Use them, abuse them, lose them.

“You need to get yourself a fiancé?” You asked, tilting your head to the side. “I thought you already had a wife, Mr. Cunningham.”

The room quieted a bit, and Tom tilted his head to the side a bit, his nostrils flaring just a bit. You could see his knuckles whitening as he tightened the grip on his glass of liquor.

I am yours, and you are mine.

“Pardon me? Fiancé?”

You smiled, coming towards the table, kicking Tom’s chair out a bit before taking a seat in his lap. You brought his hand to your mouth and kissed it, taking one of his diamond bands off his fingers and slipping it onto your own. You held your hand out as the diamonds glittered in the low light.

Suits me.

“Yes, we haven’t really…told anyone yet,” you said with a laugh, looking back at Tom. “But there’s long been tensions between my father and Tom’s own family…” You reached over and touched a few of his curls, “I guess we’re just so lucky that we fell for each other.”

Tom gripped your wrist tightly, squeezing it so hard you thought he might break something. You yanked your hand out of his grip, turning back to the crowd.  

“Tom…you choose well, don’t you? A princess that’s to become a queen? I never thought I’d see the day.”

Tom let out a hard breath through his nose, “aye,” he licked his lips a bit. “I only get the best, gentlemen, wouldn’t you say so?”

You leaned back a bit, whispering into his ear angrily. You hated when he spoke like you weren’t in the room.

“Really? You’re going to pull that shit right here, Tom?”

He chuckled, kissing under your ear. “That’s right, love. You want to be mine, eh? You want to play the part? Then you’re going to have to get used to things around here, and how I run them. And you’re not in charge.”

Bite me.

“I should shoot you right here,” you snapped, and he put a hand on your thigh, squeezing hard. His fingers stroked delicately, rubbing in slow circles. You leaned your head back against his shoulder a bit, sighing hard. It felt good, and you adored how he touched you, but now was not the time, and definitely not when his intentions were to shut you up.

“Say that again, darling…”

“Are you seriously getting off on this?”

He grinned wickedly, his eyes alight, and you dug your stiletto heel into his foot, making him jump a bit. He hid his face in your hair, letting out a quiet, “God, fuck!”

You hummed a bit, stroking the back of his neck, tugging at the hairs there to pull him close to you.

“I’m getting really sick and tired of you, Tom, reeling me in just to throw me back out,” you hissed in his ear. He grunted a bit, his breath heavy, and you nibbled along his earlobe. “I don’t how much longer I have to prove myself to you. I shouldn’t have to. If there’s anyone on this Godforsaken planet worthy of being your wife, it’s me, Tom, and you damn well know it.”

“y/n—”

You turned back to the men at the table, picking up Tom’s cards, face down in front of you two. You took a peek at them, a small smile growing on your face.  

“What are we playing then, boys?” You asked in a soft, sultry tone. Tom gritted his teeth a bit, but he put an arm around your waist, holding you close to him as he looked over your shoulder. “What are we betting on?”

“Poker, with just the money, sweetheart,” and you smiled wider when you felt Tom’s grip tighten on you, the hard breath he let out. There were eyes on you, hungry, beady, grown eyes that Tom suddenly hated more than anything else in this world. It was even more insulting that they thought you were his fiancé, and they had the nerve to stare at you like so.

“How about we make it…a bit better?” You asked, looking around at them. You put the cards down, taking your leather jacket off tossing it, leaning over on the table, letting the low neckline of your dress do most of the talking. Tom lowered his hand on your waist, to the curve of your back, and you let him, because you loved the way he was touching you. “Make it more…exciting?”

They chuckled, staring at you, drooling, like dogs seeing a treat.

All the same, all of them. Shit under your shoes.

“What did you have in mind, doll?”

You shrugged, “My distributors in Brooklyn on the table, and a fourth of the dock on the Hudson from my future husband.”

You bit back the gasp as Tom suddenly had a death grip on you, so hard you knew his fingertips might leave you with bruises. You pursed your lips tight, trying to keep the smile on your face.

Trust me, Tommy.

“y/n—”

“What do you say, boys? Last betting round? Show me what you got,” you smiled at them.  

“20% of my next shipment.”

“Fuck it, how about just cash, eh?”

“Five months of no interest.”

You giggled, winking, “Oh, you boys like your odds, don’t you?”

The cards went down, and the room went up in cackles and sharp laughter. You spread Tom’s hand out, a beautiful, perfect royal flush.

“Jesus, fuck, Holland!”

“God, your woman is mad.”

“Fuck, I’m out 30,000, I suppose.”

You sat back in Tom’s lap, crossing one leg over the other. “You guys are terrible at reading my poker face,” you teased, and Tom leaned forward, letting out a breath against your ear. You closed your eyes for a moment as he pulled your back tight up against his chest, holding you deathly close to him.

“Is this how you want to do things now? Go over my bloody head?” He growled, and you turned your head, giving his jaw a kiss.

“No, baby,” you whispered. “But when you treat me like just another one of your men, you shouldn’t be surprised when I exceed your expectations. And win things for you. And make your business a whole lot more lucrative. All I did was flash my lingerie, Tommy, and they gave me millions for nothing. You not wanting to negotiate a marriage with me is just plain stupid. So you either do business with me, or I’ll take it elsewhere. And I don’t care if Brooklyn falls.”

He clenched his jaw, kissing between your shoulder blades gently as he looked away from you. The thought of you leaving irked him to no end. The thought of someone else getting to have your special skills, even someone like your father, bothered him. Tom didn’t want you working for anyone else, beside anyone else, for anyone else. You never were able to do things like things before, and Tom had given you a chance, and he felt like he was entitled to everything you were and more.  

She’s mine.

You both stood up to bid Tom’s partners farewell, and they thanked you with kisses to your knuckles. You could tell some of them were dying to touch you, but Tom was quick wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you to him. You looked up at him when the door shut behind them.

“Was that to show chivalry isn’t dead or because you actually care about me?”

He pulled away from you, kicking the poker table to the side. Some of the chips clattered onto the floor, and you sighed, already feeling what was coming. Tom had yet to realize who he was talking to.

“You know, y/n, I didn’t think you had the goddamn balls to undermine me like that,” Tom snapped, grabbing the glass and throwing it at the wall. You didn’t even flinch as it shattered. You crossed your arms over your chest. “You do a lot of things that fucking piss me off, but business?! Are you fucking serious?!”

“What did I say about the anger, Tom? What have we talked about?!”

“Goddammit, y/n, you listen to me before I—!”

“Before you what?! Hit me? Put your hands on me? Toss me out of here like one of your men?” You interrupted him. He came towards you, backing you up until you hit the wall, and you glared up at him. “Tom, you don’t want to do this. I don’t care what I feel for you, you put your fucking hands on me, and you’ll regret it.”

“I’ll put whatever I want on you,” Tom growled, and you gripped his chin, holding it tight between your fingers.  

“Shut your mouth and listen to me, Tom, have some fucking respect,” you spat. “You touch me because I allow you to, not the other way around. I don’t care if you’re my boyfriend, my lover, my husband, my anything. You touch me, and I swear to God, I’ll put your ass on this floor and let your men watch me beat you to shit—”

You gasped as he wrapped a hand around your throat, squeezing as he shoved you against the wall. You reached over and used your nails to scratch his face, and when he loosened his grip, you brought your knee up and hit him right in the stomach. You both released each other, you panting against the wall and him leaning over in pain, groaning, and just as you were about to hit him again, he pushed you up against the wall again, pinning your arms on either side of your head.

“Tom! Jesus, fuck, listen to me for one second!” You breathed, trying to break out of his grip. Neither of you were using your full strength. Neither of you really wanted to hurt the other. “Yeah. I did something in front of your partners, I teased, but you just won’t listen to me!”

“What the fuck do you have to say that makes this any better?!”

You leaned forward and caught him in a hot kiss. He dropped your arms from beside your head, circling his around your waist, and you slid your arms up and around his neck, letting out soft, breathy moans as you kissed against the wall.

Your head hit the wall hard as he pressed you up against it, and the kisses grew warmer, hotter, deeper by the second. Tom had had his hands on you for so long now, and you didn’t shy away from it any longer. You couldn’t.  

He’s touching me, and I like it, and I’m selfish. I don’t want to let go.

“I wanna,” you panted, your lips still pressed to his, “I wanna build something with you, Tommy.”

“Yeah? Build what?”

Tom’s voice was breathy, and his eyes were closed, and you could tell all he wanted to do was keep kissing, keep breathing each other in. The constant teasing, the way you had stood up to him all night, it was getting to him, and although he pretended he despised it, all he could do was admire the hell out of you.

The only woman worthy of being a Holland.

“I want it all,” you moaned between kisses. “I want power…and money…and I want people under me, doing the things I tell them to do,” you gasped as Tom picked you up off your feet, pressing you against the wall as your legs went around his middle, “a-and I want you.”

He breathed hard as he pulled away a bit, his forehead against yours. You brushed your knuckles along his cheek, licking your lips. His skin felt warm and soft under your touch, and you adored the heaving breaths he was taking. He felt so alive under your palms, he felt so full of fire, and although you were supposed to be lighting that fire yourself, you couldn’t help but drink it in, too.  

“I want all of it,” you whispered against his lips. “I want to climb and climb and climb, and I don’t want to stop climbing until I’m dead, Tommy.”

I never want to stop.

You pulled back enough, and Tom could see your glistening eyes, so big and wide, looking down at him. Your eyes were watering a bit, and you sniffled. You were so hungry with the feeling, and you knew Tom was the only man that could ever understand what was building inside of you.  

More, more, more.

“I don’t want to do it with anyone else, Tom,” you shook your head. “B-Because the truth is…I-I’m scared to do it with anyone else. And despite how much we fight and bicker and argue, there hasn’t been one moment with you that I haven’t felt…safe o-or unloved. I’m scared that if I don’t snatch you up, Tommy, that I’m going to be alone for the rest of my life, and I’m…I’m so afraid of being alone.”

Tom swallowed hard, and you leaned your forehead against his again. You couldn’t tell what part of your words were a lie or the truth. You couldn’t decipher what was between the lines, but you didn’t care. It was spilling from you, and you couldn’t stop. You didn’t want to stop.  

There’s love in your voice.

“You’d never hurt me,” you whispered, brushing through his curls. “You’d never push me aside. If that was how you felt, you would’ve done it tonight, and you didn’t.”

He set you down gently onto your feet, but he kept you pressed to the wall as he kissed you again. Head tipped back, fingers in your hair, and a heat between your mouths that neither of you could bear to break. Tom Holland was reeling you in all over again, and you were letting him.

God, what have I done?

“Tell me you want it,” you groaned between kisses, holding onto him. Your touch was warm, and you couldn’t bear to let go of him.

“I want it,” Tom said lowly. You smiled, his kisses getting softer.

“Tell me you want money, Tommy,” you breathed, and he slid his hand down your side, gripping your ass tightly. It felt possessive, the way he touched you, but you held onto him tighter, gritting your teeth.

“I want money,” he repeated, and you moaned as he squeezed your backside soothingly.

“Tell me you want power,” you cooed, and he tilted his head to the side, licking over your bottom lip. You leaned forward just a bit, stealing a kiss, and he chuckled darkly, adoring the sounds you made as he touched you.  

More, more, more, all I want is more.

“I want power,” he grunted, hiking up your dress to touch. You stopped him, taking that hand and dragging it up your side and between your breasts, letting his fingers wrap around your throat as you took his thumb into your mouth, sucking and licking it gently.

Such a fucking tease.

“Tell me you want the world,” you purred, and he nodded, letting his thumb slip back into your mouth as you sucked on it, your eyes lidded as you looked up at him. All you could think about was him holding you like this over his desk, making you feel more alive than ever.  

Making me feel something rather than the nothingness I always feel. Making me feel anything but completely, utterly empty.

“I want the world, darling,” Tom said darkly, and you let his finger go, standing up on your toes to reach his ear. You curled your fingers around the nape of his neck, kissing the skin, licking the shell of his ear. He grunted a bit at that, closing his eyes.

“I can give the world to you, Tommy,” you whispered, leaving soft, sweet butterfly kisses from the underside of his ear down to his jaw, then back up again to kiss his lips chastely. “I can take it, wrap it up in a bow, and give it to you. All you have to do is let me in. Give me the most precious gifts you could ever give. A pretty ring, because I do have tastes, Tommy—”

“Of course,” he snickered, and he opened his eyes to look at you.  

Two sides of the same coin, one and the same, reflections of each other.

“Maybe an island or two, to keep me occupied,” you added, and he laughed a bit. “And…”

“And?”

Your eyes met, and you touched his chin.

“And your name,” you said softly. His lips twitched for a moment, and you leaned forward, kissing them so softly, so tenderly. “I want your name.”

“I want the world, and you want my name?” Tom asked, raising a brow. You gripped the lapels of his suit jacket in both hands, bringing him even closer, as close as you could.

“I want your name,” you said, leaning in close. “And everything that comes with it.”

He kissed your lips gently, smirking a bit. You put your hands on both of his cheeks, letting it deepen. Moments like this made you forget why you ever came to New York in the first place. It made you forget that you came here with a proposition, targeting Tom and all he was worth, to take everything from him. Kissing him, touching him, letting his scent intoxicate you, it was consuming you like fire, and you just wanted to hold onto him forever.  

I want your name, and I want it forever.

You pulled back for a moment and looked into his dark, beautiful eyes, and you were stricken when something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Guilt.  

Tom was lying, you were lying, but in this moment, here, you knew whatever was silent between you was the truth. You needed Tom, and Tom needed you, and when everything would come crashing down and burning, there was something inside of you that didn’t care about what came after. You didn’t care about anything except the hope that maybe, just maybe, Tom would forgive you.

Before Tom could answer, the door opened slightly, and Harrison poked his head through. Tom didn’t move away from you, still holding onto you, and Harrison let out a breath.

“Ah…sorry to interrupt, but…the phone, it’s for you, mate,” Harrison held out his hand, Tom’s cell phone in it. Tom took it from him, frowning a bit. You looked at the number displayed, and you frowned.

“That’s my dad,” you said softly. You scoffed a bit, and before Tom could put the phone to his ear, you grabbed it, putting it on speaker, gesturing to Tom for him to say something.

“Aye, this is Tom,” he said finally, and Harrison shut the door again.  

“Thomas…what a pleasure to finally be speaking to you.”

Your father’s voice was dark, more sinister than you’ve ever heard it sound before. Tom slid his hand up to your waist, squeezing a bit absentmindedly.  

“Hello, Mr. y/l/n. What can I do for you?” Tom asked blankly, keeping his voice level. You put your head on Tom’s chest, not knowing how to feel. Your father didn’t say anything to you about speaking to Tom, he never warned you about any of this.

“Thomas, in a few hours, I’ll be landing at JFK,” your father explained, and you and Tom met eyes. “I have business in New York, and you have business in New York. There’s matters that we need to discuss.”

“Mmm…you know, I’m not certain how things are done in California, Mr. y/l/n, but here in the city, we aren’t particularly friendly with those in other territories,” Tom informed him, his voice lowering in tone. “And I’m a busy man. What makes you think I have time for you, eh?”

You raised a brow, looking at Tom, confused, but he just winked down at you.

“Because of my daughter,” your father said finally. “My daughter, who works for you, Mr. Holland. Word gets around. You weren’t thinking of proposing without asking for my permission, were you?”

“Mmm…is that how we’re doing this?” Tom asked. “I need your permission to do things, do I?”

You opened your mouth to say something, but Tom put a finger to your lips.

“When it comes to what’s mine? Yeah, you do,” your father said simply. “You want my daughter, Mr. Holland? Despite whatever you think, despite whatever she may have done for you, she’s still mine. And she answers to me. So don’t get fucking smart with me, Thomas. I don’t care how many times she’s sucked your cock.”

You pulled off of Tom quickly, blinking.  

“That deal she made with you, Thomas? We both know it wasn’t hers to make, so you can stop throwing her a bone. There are things that I want, and there are things that you want, and I’m sure we can come up with something agreeable, can’t we? If it is that you truly want her hand and not that you’ve been degrading her the entire time she’s been there.”

You couldn’t even speak. You were so disgusted by everything coming from your father’s mouth, and you put a hand over your face, feeling sick to your stomach.  

“When is it that you want to meet, then?” Tom asked.

“Saturday evening. Send a car, will you?”

“Mmm. Of course,” Tom’s voice was bitter. “Have a goodnight.”

He hung up, and Tom immediately looked away from you when he noticed the tears in your eyes.

“Why didn’t you…why didn’t you say something?” You asked weakly, shaking your head. “Did you not…hear a single fucking word that came out of his mouth? Why didn’t you say something?”

“y/n, I’m not going to argue with your father over the phone about—”

“Oh, my God,” you burst out laughing, coming out sharp and pained, stepping back from him. “What is wrong with you? You think that’s true? Is that what you want people to believe? That I’m just some complacent piece of ass for you to have on your arm?”

“y/n, that’s not it,” Tom shook his head, coming close, and you pushed his hands off of you.

“No, Tom, I’ve…is that what you really think about me? Is that what you want people to think when they think of me?” You asked painfully. “That I…that I do jobs for you that involve me on my knees for you? That I’m some kind of whore that you tend to keep around?”

“No, y/n, and you know that,” Tom argued.

“Then why can’t you say it?” You breathed. “Why is it that when other people are in the room, it’s as if suddenly I don’t matter? I…I killed someone for you, Tommy. Doesn’t that mean something to you?”

Your voice cracked at the end, and Tom reached forward, cupping your cheek, bringing you close.

“I can’t stand the things people say about you, love,” he murmured. “I wanted to murder every man that was in this room, because they couldn’t stop looking at you like a piece of bloody meat, and if they weren’t my partners, y/n, I would’ve bashed their fuckin’ heads in for looking at you like that. And your father? Saying that shit? It made me sick, y/n. But I had to know.”

“Know what?” You asked.

“I had to know what your father thought. Because clearly he’s been lying to you,” Tom scoffed. “You’ve been his liaison to me, but everything he’s said to you so far means nothing. Your father’s been lying to you, and honestly, darling, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that as soon as your father miraculously had faith in you, your first assignment was to come to New York and look for me.”

You chewed on your fingernail, pulling away from him as you paced slowly around the room.

“So what do we do?” You asked, coming back to him. Tom cupped your cheeks, bringing you close enough for your foreheads to touch.

“You wanna be my wife, yeah?” He muttered against your lips. “You wanna do business with me? You wanna take on the fucking world, is that it?”

“Yes, Tommy,” you breathed, and he moved one hand lower to grasp your chin tightly between his fingers.

“You’ve got to promise me something, y/n,” he whispered, and you nodded, your noses touching, your breath warm against one another’s. He tangled his other hand into your hair, gripping it tight. “You’re my ride or die, then, yeah? I don’t fucking care what it’s about. Your father, Mariposa, Harrison, your bloody dog, I don’t fucking care. It’s me and you, and me and you always, and nothing comes between that, you hear me, eh?”

There’s love in there. Why can’t you hear it?

You opened your eyes, looking up into his.

“I hear you,” you said breathlessly, and you adored how he grabbed your face and kissed you. “Loyalty. That’s what…that’s what you want.”

Mine, mine, mine.

“Aye,” Tom nodded. “Your father doesn’t give two shits about you, y/n. We’ve got to bleed him dry—”

“Tom—” You let out a sob, shaking your head, and he held your face to his tighter, closer.

“We’ve got to bleed him dry,” Tom growled. “Because he will never understand what you are, y/n. And he will never believe in you. You think men like that change their minds suddenly, darling? Fuck, I could’ve killed you the day you got here, y/n, and he knew that. I let you do things on your own because I know you can take care of yourself, but your father doesn’t understand, and he still lets you, because to him, he doesn’t care whether you live or die in this business.”

“Tommy, that’s not true,” you whimpered, “h-he loves me, he—”

“He doesn’t!” Tom snapped. “Get that through your head, y/n! That man doesn’t love you, and he’s never going to give you what you want. It’s gotta be us, love. It’s gotta be you and I, and you and I only. For once in your life, y/n, choose yourself.”

You and Tom hugged tightly, holding onto each other, your cries muffled in his chest as he held you as close to him as he could.  

“I know, baby,” he whispered against your hair. “I’ve got you. I promise. I’ve got you now, yeah?”

What have I done?

It wasn’t long before you were sitting in his leather chair behind his desk, Tom’s suit jacket draped over you as he went to go get something stronger, something to calm your nerves. You had dried tears on your cheeks, and you looked a mess. Your phone buzzed in your jacket pocket, and you picked up your leather jacket off the floor, pulling it out. Your father’s name was lit on the screen.

We are two sides of the same coin.

Tom would never forgive you.

Did he buy it, baby?

One and the same.

yes, daddy. see you soon.

Not when you would stand over him, a gun to his head, taking everything from him and leaving him with nothing. Not even so much as his name, because you knew you’d take that, too.

Reflections of each other.

You would take his name, and you would run with it.

read chapter seven

[khiphop-stories]

Jay Park - Secret Crush

“Ready?” You asked him with a grin planted on your lips, as you playfully wriggled your brows at him. You motioned him to take a seat, as your eyes checked whether everything you needed was in place.

Following your instructions he made himself comfortable in the black leather chair. He closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath before nodding his head. “Yeah I’m ready,” he said rather to himself than to you.

“For someone who’s scared of needles, you sure do have a lot of tattoos,” a light chuckle left your red lips as you scanned his body. It was a work of art. You couldn’t help but admire it every time he came here and you were proud to be able to continue this piece of art. 

“Did you take any medicine for the last twenty-four hours?“ You asked him as it was part of the routine. He chuckled at you with a light shake of his head. This obviously wasn’t his first tattoo, he knew what to do and what not to do before a tattoo session.

“Alcohol?“ 

“Does a shot of vodka count?“ He asked in such a serious tone that you were fooled by it. There was a grin planted across his face which you failed to see as you were filling up the tiny ink caps. You immediately stopped your motions and turned to him, giving him a glare.

“Jay, you know you’re not supposed to drink alcohol before getting a tattoo,“ you reminded him with a stern voice, a frown covering your face. Alcohol consumption lead to blood thinning which made you bleed more during the inking process. It could be scary for health reasons, but mostly annoying for aesthetic reasons. The excess blood pooling on the skin would make it much more difficult for you to accurately puncture where you needed to and it could also thin the ink which would both mess with the final result. For these reasons, you refused to tattoo someone who had consumed alcohol before a session. 

Jay was a regular. He knew you were against alcohol consumption before getting a tattoo. He should have known better. You weren’t exactly angry with him, but you were annoyed that you had to reschedule the appointment because of his rookie mistake. It was difficult enough to find a date and time that worked for the both of you. Jay was a busy person and you were usually booked out, he already had to wait months for this appointment alone.

“I was just playing,“ he quickly retreated as he realized his joke wasn’t received well. 

“I didn’t drink,” he assured you.

“Idiot,” you rolled your eyes at him, letting out a long sigh of relief. “Did you just insult a customer?“ Jay grabbed his chest in an exaggerated movement, pretending to be shocked by what you had just said. 

Jay wasn’t just a customer anymore, he first came to your studio five years ago and since then he had become a regular. Most of his tattoos were done by you. Maybe it was because you were around the same age, or maybe it was his easy-going and playful personality that made you get along well with him. You always look forward to your sessions with him. But it was also dangerous; you felt a little too comfortable around him and sometimes you would treat him like a friend rather than a paying customer. Though he never had a problem with that.

“Please take off your shirt,” you ignored his teasing remark, trying to focus on work again.

“Usually I have 3-date-rule, but I guess I’ll make an exception for you,” he winked suggestively and blew you a kiss before bursting out into his obnoxious laughter. By now you were used to his dirty jokes, so it didn’t even faze you anymore. However, you still remembered the first time he had made a suggestive comment; you were so caught off guard that you almost messed up his tattoo. But now you knew the best method was to ignore it, because if you played along, he would only take it further. 

You rolled your eyes at him, chuckling at his playfulness and for a moment you were surprised at yourself. You have had such a horrible day, yet the moment he entered your shop, everything was forgotten. He definitely was one of your favourite customers. He was laid-back and kind and he always had a joke on the tip of his tongue, not to mention he was extremely pleasing to the eyes. 

You motioned him to carry on, since you were on a tight schedule. Jay grabbed the hem of his black t-shirt and pulled it over his head in one swift motion. He folded it once and hung it over the chair next to him, before lying down on the lounger. You sat down and rolled closer to him. 

You sprayed the disinfectant on his skin. You took the disposable razor from the counter and started removing any hair above his chest that could get in the way. You moved closer with your head, so you could take a better look. As the distance between you and him shortened, you could feel his muscles tensing up while he held his breath. Suddenly, you burst out laughing.

“You don’t have to flex your muscles, you know,“ you told him, your shoulders shaking in silent laughter.

“I-I wasn’t,“ he immediately denied, an awkward chuckle leaving his lips. He quickly looked away from you, almost as though as he was embarrassed. You could have sworn you saw him blush slightly. 

You shook your head trying to turn your concentration back to the purpose of his visit. This was not the time to get delusional, you told yourself.

The tattoo he wanted was small consisting of letters only. Something like that usually didn’t take long that’s why you only planned half an hour for it, which was already a generous amount considering it was just a short and simple phrase he wanted inked on his chest. However, Jay was the master of distraction, you had already lost a good fifteen minutes just talking to him without even having started. If you wanted to finish on time, you had to hurry up now. You did a final study of the sketch that you had made in a prior consultation, then the studio was filled with he familiar buzzing sound.  Jay remained quiet for several minutes, probably due to the pain of the tiny needle puncturing in and out of his skin. But his silence didn’t last long, once his body started to adjust to the pain, he began to relax again. 

“Can I ask you something?“ He then asked out of the blue, his voice sounding more serious than usual. He stared at you with a soft expression in his eyes, patiently waiting for your answer.

“Sure, go ahead,“ you replied not paying much attention to him. You were too focused on the letters you were carving in his soft skin. 

“Something rather personal.“

You pulled the needle back, stopping your motions for a second as you furrowed your brows at him with a bit of hesitation. No matter how well you got along, he was still a customer that brought in money and you tried not to get too close to your customers. “What if….let’s say…one of your customers is interested in you….and asks you out on a date, would you go out with him?“ He stammered at first, but quickly regained his composure. “Depends,“ you answered half-heartedly. You glanced at him shortly before you returned your focus back to work, dipping the needle in black ink.

“On what?“ “Whether I feel attracted to that person or not.“ “No, I mean….in general. Could you imagine going out with one of your customers?“ “Well, I’m not a doctor, I didn’t take an oath. It wouldn’t be illegal.“ “Ok, then, would you go on a date with me?“ You could hear the smile in his voice even though you weren’t looking at him. “Is this still a hypothetical question?“ “No, this is me asking you out,“ he told you straight-foward, followed by a shy chuckle.

You immediately stopped your motions again, staring at him at loss for words. You lifted your brows at him, an expression of stunned surprise planted on your face. You were surprised at yourself, at how you felt when he said those words.

You didn’t answer, afraid of saying something wrong. Once you crossed this boundary, there was no going back. “That’s a no, then?“ He didn’t even try to hide the disappointment in his voice. 

“No.“ “No? So it’s a yes?“ “N-no.“ you stuttered in reply, fully knowing that you weren’t making any sense. “Now I’m confused.“ “I’m trying to focus, Jay. Stop distracting me,“ You wanted to turn away your head so badly so he wouldn’t see the pink in your cheeks, but you couldn’t possibly look elsewhere while you were tattooing his skin. You felt his gaze on you which made you blush even more. For a minute you thought your face was on fire. You adjusted the mask which covered the lower half of your face, pulling it upwards in attempt to hide the rosiness of your cheeks. From the corner of your eyes, you could see him smile. His eyes were still on you, there wasn’t anything else to look at anyway. “Okay, different question then. Do you like Japanese food?“

You took a controlled breath, trying to calm yourself down, before answering his seemingly innocent question. “Yes.“ “Do you like sushi?“ “Yes.“ “Do you like me?“ “Yes,” you replied once again without thinking. 

“Is that so?“ You heard the surprise in his voice while the grin on his lips grew bigger — if that was even possible. “I-I mean no,” you hurriedly tried to correct yourself, finally realizing that you had just admitted to liking him. It wasn’t something he was supposed to find out. It was meant to be a secret one-sided crush. 

“Yes or no?“ “You know you’re not getting a refund if I mess up because you’re distracting me” you warned him, attempting to dodge answering his question.

“I'll take that risk,” he replied smoothly. “So?”

“So what?” You pretended not to know what he was talking about. “Do you want to go on a date with me?” Your eyes flickered to him, looking at him with hesitation. You bit down on your bottom lip, cursing at yourself for not having more will power. You nodded once, a slight barely noticeable nod as you didn’t want to seem too eager, but the truth was, yes you did want to give him a chance to sweep you off your feet.

[dweetwise]

Can you do a continuation of pyramid head x dummy tick reader with killers and surviors that are flirting or make sexual movements to the reader?

i apologize to all dummy thicc reader fans for taking so long! i got two requests, so i’ll do survivors for this one and more killers for the next <3 warnings for some nsfw suggestive language!

Survivor Thirst (survivors X dummy thicc reader)

Following Pyramid Head’s warnings (and in some cases, a very big sword through the gut), the killers, thankfully, seemed to leave you alone, sticking to chasing and killing you normally.

Even the Entity appeared to notice your annoyance, not calling you into trials quite as often as usual. That left you with more time to hang out with your friends and sneak out to Midwich to see your boyfriend, and you couldn’t help but think of how nice it was to get a break from the crazy shenanigans and embarrassment of the last couple of weeks.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t have been more wrong.

It all started relatively innocently when Steve, after a trial, excitedly bounded over to you.

“Hey y/n, feel my shirt!” he said, a neverending smile on his face. You tilted your head in confusion, before reaching to grab the hem of his sailor costume shirt. It felt like normal fabric, a kind of cheap polyester, and you failed to see what the big deal was. Did he wash it or something? “It’s boyfriend material,” Steve finally quipped, smile morphing into a smirk at his own punchline. You rolled your eyes and playfully shoved the teen away, hiding a small grin of your own.

The other survivors watched the exchange with varying levels of amusement. You thought they were just laughing at the horrible pick-up-line, but it would later become apparent that they took it as an invitation to try to get into your pants.

“Are you close with your father?” Ash asked you out of the blue when you were sitting by the fire, stoking the logs with a stick. The question took you a little off guard; normally, the man was all jokes and extravagant tales of his youth, and you never would have guessed he’d actually be interested in your past. Before you managed to answer, you saw a grin spreading over his lips. “Because you look like you need a daddy,” Ash leered, gaze glued to your generous cleavage from where you were leaned over the other side of the fire.

If you’d been able to reach him over the flames, you’re pretty sure you would have slapped him. As it stood, the disgusted scoff you made was sure to get the point across.

But then, there was Yui.

“So, uhh...” the biker started uncharacteristically meekly, approaching you in a semi-secluded spot in the corner of camp. “I saw you with the Pig the other day...”

Oh, fuck. If Yui had seen the killer glued to your back and sensually stroking your face, she must have gotten the wrong idea.

“Yui, shit, um,” you sputtered nervously, causing Yui to glance at you with hope shining in her eyes. “I don’t swing that way.”

At least you think you don’t. You’d always thought Yui was really pretty, but in a completely no homo way. Like right then, you could objectively see that she’s quite attractive, her crop top and short shorts showing off her muscular build—

Yui managed a quick apology and an awkward laugh, and you cleared your throat and squeaked out an “It’s fine”. Your eyes, as of their own accord, were glued to her ass when she walked away.

Okay, maybe a little homo.

If only Nea had been as sensible as Yui.

“Y/n, over here!” Nea called, waving you over when you walked back into camp after a stroll to Midwich. “Did I ever tell you about my cat?“

“No, not that I remember,” you said, sitting down next to her on one of the logs. “I know you like cats, though.”

“Mm-hm,” Nea agreed, her innocent smile morphing into something much more mischievous. “I sure do love a good pussy,” she practically purred, eyeing you up and down.

“You little brat—” you hissed, jumping back up on your feet while your face flushed red.

“So that’s a no?” the tagger had the audacity to wink at you, and you moodily walked over to the other side of camp to avoid the temptation of smacking her in the face with her own purple flashlight.

It couldn’t even have been a full day before you caught Dwight sneaking glances at you. He blushed furiously every time you noticed, and eventually you just let out a small sigh and made your way over, eager to get this over with.

“Something on your mind, Dwight?” you asked with a friendly smile, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt and even sitting down a respectable distance away from him so he wouldn’t get the wrong idea.

After a minute of nervous sputtering and trying to ignore the question, Dwight finally managed to spill the beans. “Feng said you, um, wanted to... k-kiss me?” he squeaked. You sighed long and loud, causing Dwight to nearly have a nervous breakdown. You tried to reassure and reject him without too much of your annoyance shining through, all while thinking of creative ways to get back at Feng for another one of her dumb pranks.

A couple of days must have passed and, thankfully, no more embarrassing incidents occurred. You were just about starting to think the others had managed to get it out of their systems, as no more potential suitors were lining up to harass woo you.

And then you unsuspectingly leaned over a log to rummage through your stack of items to look for a med-kit, and...

“Nice arse, luv!” David hollered from the other side of the campsite. In an instant you were up on your feet, glaring daggers at the brawler who didn’t look the least bit sorry.

When David proceeded to throw in a wolf whistle for good measure, you hurled your med-kit across the camp, turning on your heel and stomping out into the woods. Judging by the dull ‘thunk’ of the item hitting wood and David’s roaring laughter, you’d missed your target—his head.

Eventually you came across Jake in the woods, sitting quietly by a cluster of trees and stocking some of his toolboxes.

You slumped down next to the saboteur with a huff, crossing your arms and trying to think of how to get revenge on David. Jake glanced over in acknowledgement, but didn’t say a word before getting back to his task.

You felt some of your anger dissipate in Jake’s calming presence, watching him work with methodical composure. Jake may have been be a little anti-social, but at least you could always count on him to never think with his dick—

“We should fuck,” Jake said and your mind screeched to a halt.

“I beg your pardon!?” you squawked, causing him to finally turn to look at you properly.

“I think you’re hot. Do you wanna fuck?” he said, the same infuriatingly calm expression on his face, acting like he didn’t just proposition you in the crudest way possible.

You furiously stomped back to the campfire, leaving Jake alone with his tools and an angry red handprint on his cheek.

Upon your return the others, thankfully, seemed to sense your mood and nobody dared to bring up the David incident, leaving you to sulk in a corner in peace.

And then, Ace got back from a trial.

You saw him swaggering over, an annoying cocky grin on his face. He opened his mouth and—

“DON’T,” you warned, lifting your finger to interrupt him while giving him your dirtiest glare. Ace raised his hands up in surrender while one of his eyebrows cocked up in question. “I’m sick of being perved on! You guys are the worst!” you complained, taking the opportunity to give David the stink eye from across camp.

“Actually, I was about to ask if you’d like to play a game of cards?” Ace inquired, genuine curiosity in his voice. “You’ve seemed on edge for a few days, looked like you could use a distraction.”

You blinked in confusion at the words. “Oh,” you weakly managed, a blush rising on your cheeks and feeling a little bit like an idiot. Seems like chivalry isn’t dead after all—

“So, strip poker?” Ace suggested, the sly grin back on his face.

“You FUCKING—” you yelled while Ace’s hearty laugh echoed across camp.

--------------------------------

“So if you happen to come by any moris, nobody will really mind,” you finish your story, looking up at Pyramid Head with a sickly sweet fake smile that fails to betray just how much you’d like to get petty revenge.

There’s an echoing chuckle from within the pyramid, and then a couple of inquisitive grunts while he draws a hook shape in the air.

“Camping and tunneling?” you ask, feigning ignorance. “I think those are just legitimate strategies.”

[fangirlovestuff]

Cycle - Steve Rogers x reader ch.5

Previously:  ch.1 ch.2 ch.3 ch.4

Summary: The morning after, you quietly left. The days after, you were constantly screwing up. Will you stop thinking about Steve, or maybe you won’t need to?

Word Count: ~2,300

Warnings: explicit language, brief mentions of smut

a/n- hey lovely people! and just like that, another Steve series had come to an end. I had a lot of fun writing this series, and thank you so much to everyone who gave me feedback on it, it’s super appreciated! italics are for thoughts and divider is by @whimsicalrogers​. Enjoy!<3

The next morning you surprisingly woke up before Steve did, and used this opportunity to sneak out of his apartment, going back to your place to change before you had to be at work again.

On the way home, all kinds of thoughts flooded your mind, starting with should I have left a note? And all the way to this was the biggest fucking mistake ever, why didn't I try to resist it more, now everyone's gonna say I'm a slut, and they'll be right.

But amidst that rose the memories of last night, of the feeling of Steve surrounding you, his hot breath against your skin, falling asleep in his arms. And you knew, if you had a time machine, no matter how much you're overthinking this now – you'd do it again.

The realization caused you to shake out of your reverie, breathing out a shaky breath and looking around the street to ground yourself a little.

Nothing was gonna happen, it's all gonna be okay, and even if Steve will never talk to me again, he'll still respect what we agreed on, you calmed yourself down as you entered your apartment, getting ready for another day.

Steve entered the training room, his thoughts still wandering to the events of last night. When he woke up this morning, you were already gone, but his amplified senses could still pick up on the scent of your perfume on the sheets next to him. He understood why you did it. He was old, but he still understood the social conventions of hooking up, and he knew what it meant when he agreed. But there was still a part of him that hoped to wake up and see your face. Maybe even get a chance to see you fall apart under him once more.

He shook those thoughts away. This is what you wanted, and he should respect it. this is when your paths part. For some reason, he felt sadder than he probably should've been. And yet, he couldn't help but feel a sense of smugness at the events of last night.

When he put his bag down he was greeted by a friendly slap on his shoulder. Smirking, he immediately turned around, catching onto the arm and tossing the "attacker" onto the floor. Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. "You knew it was me, man," he complained as Steve extended his hand to him and he got up.

"Always be ready," Steve shrugged and moved towards the middle of the mattress-covered floor. Sam narrowed his eyes towards Steve and followed him, standing in front of him and getting into position.

"You seem to be in an awfully good mood," Sam remarked. "Any reason why?"

"You, Sam," Steve said in mock emotion, "You are my sun and stars, and getting to see you this morning is the abso—"

Sam charged at Steve, but the latter quickly dodged his punch and kicked his leg, making Sam lose his balance and fall down for the second time that morning.

Steve chuckled. "Relax, Wilson," he said, "a little sarcasm hasn't killed anyone yet, and I for one don't want that to change."

Sam's face lit up with understanding. "You finally did it you bastard! You got laid! Who was it?"

Steve couldn't keep his face from blushing. Was he really being that obvious?  "None of your business. Besides, it was a one-night thing anyway," he shrugged, trying to regain his composure.

"Hey, if you don't wanna tell me, I'm fine with that. But when Barnes gets his hands on you…" Sam grinned.

Steve groaned. "Fuck," he whispered under his breath, fully knowing if Sam managed to figure it out, Bucky would too. "That's a problem for later," he shook his head. "For now, I think you need a refresher on balance," he raised his brow at Sam.

"Whatever," Sam scoffed, "fucking super soldiers," he grumbled while he got into position once more.

It's been five days since you last talked to Steve. Not that you were counting or anything. Five days of making a complete fool out of yourself were just kind of a lot.

The first day you thought you had it under control. Even though last night didn't involve as much sleep, you drank some coffee and figured it would be okay. You started daydreaming and nearly fell asleep, leaving your mixture to cool for too long, noticing it only when Kate tapped your shoulder to get your attention and having to start it all over again.

Well, the first day should be the worst and then it'll be fine right?

The second day you were thinking about whether you should text Steve or not while you were diluting a solution you were working on, but got the different concentrations confused and needed to start again, costing you more time and materials.

The third day you thought it would surely stop. After that day you needed to get a new fire extinguisher for the lab.

The fourth was Saturday, so thankfully you didn't have opportunities to embarrass yourself anymore, right?

Except you went out with your friends, got drunk and told them that you slept with this "super" cute guy and how everyone hates you now because you mess everything up. They calmed you down and comforted you at the moment, but they also got that on video and god knows you're never living that one down.

Thankfully, drunk me was still smart enough not to tell them who it was, you mused as you watched the video, your head pounding on Sunday, the fifth day since you had last spoken to Steve Rogers.

Which brings us here, Monday morning, five days after That Night.

You entered the office, setting down your bag and going over some paperwork when Kate knocked on your door.

"Hi! Come in," you greeted her with a smile.

"Good morning," she smiled back. "Listen, I wanted to talk to you. I don't want to overstep, but you've seemed a little… distracted, these last few days, and I was wondering why? I mean, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, obviously, but if it could help you…" she trailed off, a little awkwardly.

You sighed. "No, it's okay, I should probably give at least a little explanation for my actions. But you're gonna think it's stupid," you warned with a smile. She nodded at you to go on anyway.

You wondered how you should phrase it. "Well, I guess I've been trying not to date for a while, to focus on my career here, you know. But a few days ago I went on a date with this guy and it was wonderful, but I haven't talked to him and he didn't talk to me and I'm just… wondering if I should try to change that," you said. That was close enough to the truth.

Kate pondered what you said for a moment and then spoke. "The way I see it," she said, "you need closure. Just try to talk to him. If something comes out of it, great, if he doesn't answer, that's still fine. Either way you're better off knowing, because if the last few days are any indication, I'd say you feel very bad not knowing," she said with a teasing smile.

"Maybe you're right," you smiled. "Anyways, I'm really sorry for the last few days. But it won't happen today. At least I'm pretty sure it won't happen today," you added with a chuckle. "I'll join you in the lab in a few minutes," you smiled at her and she nodded and left.

Much like you, Steve also wasn't having a great time.

That first day he ended up seeing Bucky, which earned him pestering for the rest of the day, but he adamantly refused to reveal your identity even to Bucky.

"C'mon Buck," Steve rolled his eyes. "I'm not telling you. That's it."

"That means it's someone I know! Oh, is it – "

"Lalalala, I can't hear anything you're saying," Steve reverted to the childish method and put his hands over his ears.

"Fine, sheesh. You gonna see her again at least?" Bucky asked.

"I don't know," Steve said with a sigh.

Steve's smugness only lasted the first day, and the rest of them were filled with increasing disappointment.

The second day Bucky managed to hit him in the face with his metal arm because he wasn't paying enough attention.

The third they had a briefing for a coming up mission, and Steve nearly fell from his chair at the sound of his phone beeping, thinking it could be you.

Saturday and Sunday were spent alone in his apartment, finishing the painting of the skyline and ignoring Sam's and Bucky's texts. When he finished the painting he was so tempted to ask Bucky for your phone number and send you a picture of it, but he figured that would be weird. Instead, he started another painting, and without even noticing he started sketching your face. Way to go Rogers, you managed to be weird anyway, he thought and threw away the sketch.

When he came to work Monday, he thought he got over the whole deal.

Sam greeted him at the training room, ready for another mission. "You alright Rogers?" he asked.

"Oh yeah, my phone was just turned off," Steve shrugged, thinking Sam was wondering why he was… how do they say it? ghosting him?

"I didn't mean this weekend," Sam said, "how did you let Barns get you that good last week?"

"I guess I was just distracted," Steve shrugged, getting in position.

"You never get distracted," Sam stated, "you are literally the most prim and proper person I know. That one time Bucky and I argued for an hour next to you, and you didn't even notice, what's up?"

"That's not true, I did notice, I just ign-"

"See, that's a lie, because if you actually got distracted by what we were doing while you worked you would've asked which time I was talking about," Sam smirked.

"Whatever," Steve rolled his eyes, a small smile on his face.

"So, who's getting you so distracted? Was it mystery girl?"

"Um, yeah," Steve chuckled. "Look, it doesn't really matter right now, we should –"

"I knew it!" Sam laughed, "you just can't do one-night-stands, can you?"

"I-" Steve trailed off.

"Look man, it's just who you are. Go talk to her," Sam said.

"Maybe," Steve said, and then, without warning, made a blow at Sam that he managed to avoid.

"Always be prepared, right?" Sam said, a smug smile on his face.

"Right," Steve answered, smiling.

You were just packing up in your office, ready to go home. Thankfully, today had been free of awkward mistakes.

There was a knock at your door and you called them to come in, thinking it could be Kate, but in front of you was standing, causing you a serious Deja-vu, Steve. I spoke too soon didn't I?

"Hey," he said, scratching his neck.

"Hi," you whispered unintentionally. You cleared your throat and asked in a stronger voice, "Uh, can I help you?"

"Well, yeah," Steve said. "I wanted to ask… will you listen until the end of what I'm about to say?" he smiled and chuckled awkwardly.

"Sure," you frowned a little and came to stand in front of him.

"I was kind of… making a fool of myself the last few days. Not calling you was the main foolish thing but also, Bucky hit me in the face because I was thinking about calling you," he grimaced. "And… I know we agreed about no strings attached, but I can't stop thinking about you. In a non-creepy way," he quickly added with another awkward chuckle. "So, I wanted to ask if maybe you'd like to attach the strings?" he smiled. "Go on a date sometime? Obviously, I get it if you say no, but I just really wanted to ask. So, yeah," he looked away at the bookshelves surrounding you.

You gladly refrained from telling him about the times you’ve made a fool of yourself those days. "Yes, I'd love to go on a date sometime," you smiled and put your hand on his cheek, drawing his gaze towards yours. His face lit up with a smile, and then he was kissing you. It was the kind of kisses that left you breathless, the kind of kisses you felt like you could live on. Maybe even a true love's kiss.

"It's probably because you had a really good teacher. I mean, with that level of game, how could I say no?" you smiled.

"Probably," Steve agreed with a soft smile.

You couldn't contain yourself and kissed him again, cupping his face in your hands while his large hands were placed on your waist, drawing you close.

"Pay up, Barnes," Sam said smugly.

"No way! Look, what if the mystery girl is-"

Bucky trails off and smirks once he sees the two people who are walking through the lobby, where he and Sam were standing. Sam turns around and sees what he sees – You and Steve, walking hand in hand, giving each other total heart eyes. Steve raises your connected palms and kisses the back of your hand.

"Shit," Sam said under his breath.

"Pay up, birdman!" Bucky said with a shit-eating grin.

It's funny how life works. Right when you decide to stray clear of men, it brings you the sweetest one you've ever met, and you can't resist his baby blue eyes, looking at you so adoringly. Once you decide to be a little more of a player, change to get what you want, it brings you the most beautiful woman who doesn't need you to change at all.

In this case, opposites definitely attract. Together, they can achieve the most beautiful thing in the world – love.

and the curtain goes down on another Steve series. Thank you so much for reading, ily<3

Taglist:  @horny-nd-bored​ @shannon124 @perfectlyharolds​ @wintersoldierslut​ @iceebabies​  @sleepingpapermouse @steverogerswasalwaysworthy @holtzkinnon @angelicl-y @stydia-4-ever @thatoneperson5000 @fangirlfree​ @kaitcordx25 @bequeening​ @steve-barry-damon-logan​ @itscrazycherryblossomcollection​ @hollandxmarvel​ @stargazingfangirl18 @readsreblogsfics @onetwo3000 @beritmetal @harrystylesholland @jazbot2000

Cycle Taglist: @dee-vn @alex747 @itsangelpie-supports

if you wanna join / be removed from these taglists, comment/message me! much love <3

[rosaetae]

stay warm this winter— one

☇ “And do me a favor. Stay warm this winter. xx.” 

part one / part two / part three

➣  pairing: reader x hoseok

➣  genre: exes2enemies2lovers!au, angst, CEO!hoseok

➣  word count: 12.6k

➣  summary: when a young ceo arrives in the area one winter day, everyone is falling in love with him and his charm. and quite ironically for you, you’ve already fell down that hole before.

It was two days ago when Yana has you take over her position as director of hospitality design of Ardor Interiors while she decides to finally take a break and spend time in the Bahamas with her boyfriend, Tristian. It was two days ago when she hands it over to you for a couple of weeks over the phone at 2 AM and the next morning, you're given all her tasks and schedule that she abandoned in a blink of an eye.

Knowing how Tristian and Yana works, you probably knew this was a spontaneous love trip sparked in the minds of their own in the middle of the night where Tristian, a well-known surgeon with a million dollar hand, and Yana, head of hospitality design with stunning taste could afford any last minute ticket to the last second. And seeing that you are thriving design director and Yana's best apprentice under her wing, it was easy for her to throw it upon you so last minute, especially when nothing remains your weakness— including working under pressure and being thrown under the bus.

You're relaying schedules, meeting and working with new restaurants being opened in the Spring and also working with couples who just moved into their homes requesting designs to portray their perfect living area.

It's only the third day without Yana and you're running on three cups of coffee, two cups of black tea, and 2 hours of sleep, but you remain calm and composed. Calm and composed.

"There's a new hot CEO in town," Nadine, your very good friend sat the front desk says. You came down to grab some paperwork she announced she had for you, taking them out of the manila folder to examine what it could be at the desk instead of taking the elevator and going into your office.

"Really, now?" You muse along, sorting through the paperwork and grabbing a highlighter from the mug along with her pen collection. "Hot, because he's rich and powerful? Because last time I checked you said Mr. Redmann was hot, but failed to mention he is three times your age."

The brunette peers up at you, mischievously smiling. "Trust me. This man is hot in both ways. Powerful and lick-worthy."

Hearing the unsettling traits she described of the man that she and you haven't met, you roll your eyes at her thirsty words, highlighting significant parts of the paperwork you were given. "Hey, don't roll your eyes like that," she chuckles. "I'm telling you this because he requested to meet with our hospitality designer."

"So... me," you finish as she nods, an amused smile on her face.

"You know, I'd never thought I'd say this, but I'll admit, I'm jealous of you."

Laughing at her, you still focus on finishing the last bit of highlighting. "Is he really that worth swooning over for? When's this meeting?"

In the corner of your eye, you see her look back at her computer, making some clicks here and there before she looks back at you. "Today," she answers. "At four." 

Your neck nearly snaps as you look at her, a questionable look  on your face as if you didn't want to believe that your meeting is as close to 4 o'clock that day. "Today?"

"He's the CEO of the hotel chain, The Novahaven. They started working on one of their newest hotels that they just started building a few months ago on 10th Street. He requested Yana for a meeting a couple of weeks ago. Guessing she didn't tell you?"

You let out a light scoff, knowing that Yana is probably relaxing her toes in sand as you're freezing in this winter weather and having to work as head of two branches of Ardor Interiors. "I guess not."

"Well, your schedule as ___ and Yana is all clear for the rest of the day after the meeting. Will you be a good friend and let me know how hot he is?"

Nadine's eyes glinted with playfulness as usual and particularly, you'd give her a disgusted out look, but there was this deep curiosity in your stomach that had you concerned about this meeting— but as you give her a silent single nod, you ignore that gut feeling and tell her to send you details of the meeting as you head to your office.

Yana was always the type to have meetings anywhere but Ardor Interior's building. She states that the building is never on her sides with certain proposals, and that going to where the client requests is a strategic method of hers to get way— easier and efficient, she says.

However, you call utter bullshit when you're stuck in traffic and it's already 3:58 PM and 10th street isn't for another couple of blocks down. Your method is that if a client wants to use your way, they'd make way for you— not the other way around.

Yelling and pounding on the wheel in frustration, you're annoyed when you park in front of a tall building where The Novahaven is in broad, immense letters. You're grabbing your blueprints, your tablet, and paperwork from the back, struggling to lock your car as you're carrying too many things for one trip to the 14th floor of the building.

With winter here and the hues of the sun setting, it made you feel like you were in a hurry— which you were when you check your phone flashing in a white font, 4:06 PM and you're not even in the lobby yet. The back of your heels were clicking with each fast-paced step you took and you simply throw dispersed excuse me's and sorry's in the air without looking at the the person you've ran into on accident.

You finally find the elevator, stuffing yourself in the corner as it piled up with people as each floor passed. When it finally reaches the 14th floor, you squeeze your way out of the crowd, protecting your blueprints from being crumpled or folded in any way. And as you eventually get out of the elevator, you feel contact with your back to a body, making you fumble forward in fear that you pushed them down.

Turning around, you look over at the person you just bumped into, almost relieved that they weren't at all pushed down.

"I'm so sorry," you immediately apologize. "I'm already late to the meeting and I get really—"

"It's alright," he laughs, a smile forming on his face as he looks down at you. His smile is pretty and contagious, because you're smiling back up at him, forgetting that you shouldn't be distracted— however, there's this look in his eyes as if he's trying to remember you from somewhere, though you have never met anyone who looked like him. "You must be the hospitality designer. Yana, correct?"

You let out a laugh, a dorky one— as if you're in high school and the cute jock remembers your name. "Yes, and no," you shove some of your blueprints under your arm, freeing a hand to offer for him to shake. "I'm actually taking over for Yana as she's tending to an emergency, but I'm ___, head of interior design at Ardor Interiors."

And he makes some sort of face of realization as if he recognized your name, but you notice he shakes it off, smiling that once again pretty smile. "Well, ___, I'm Mr. Jung Haein, CEO of The Novahaven."

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your sockets when you realized you bumped into the CEO of the hotel chain— and you're about 10 minutes late. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Jung," you nervously laugh, biting on your tongue as he shakes your hand firmly.

"Don't be worried. You were probably stuck in traffic?" He asks considerately as he begins to walk, you following his lead smoothly.

"Yes," you breathe out. "I apologize for being so late."

"No harm done," he decrees, opening the glass door of his office for you as you walked in. "Is it overwhelming to be taking over two positions for the time being?"

You let out a light chuckle, taking a seat in front of his desk, placing your blueprints in the chair next to you. "I think I'm handling it."  

He lets out a friendly laugh, sitting in the chair in front of the desk, his amiable eyes meeting yours. In this certain lighting, you can see now that he looks like someone very familiar, but you couldn't bring yourself to guess it at the moment in which he was speaking to you, discussing his reasons as to why he requested a hospitality designer.

He explains to you the major fundamentals and his expectations through a contract, in which you hand him over your tablet where Ardor Interiors's e-contract lies. As he had expectations, so did you.

"The new hotel being built on 10th street is called Luminous," he explains, nearly wrapping up the agreement as he signs the e-contract with a flick of his finger. "It's one of our finer hotels. We have a set budget and set deadline, and I know Ardor Interiors is a pretty notable interior design company for being on-budget and on-time."

You raise your eyebrows at his form of flattery, taking back the tablet from him. "You do your research."

"Well, actually," he laughs. "I didn't, but the co-CEO did."

"Co-CEO?" Your ears perk at the sound of that, trailing back to him introducing himself originally as a CEO.

"For the moment being. I'm in the middle of stepping down from my position," he responds easily, resting back in his seat as he crosses his hands in his lap.

"Why's that?"

"It'll be in better hands," he simply says. "I'll still be working with the company, but at home, so I could focus more on my wife and children." Jung Haein says it with a smile on his face, as if he was almost retiring, but he was just as happy as a clam to be able to balance his family and his work— you've respected that.

And it's with that, the meeting with one of the CEO's ends, him being a gentleman offering to escort you down, but you reassure him that it's alright and you don't need an escort to use the elevator to which he responds with, "fair enough", and allows you to leave his office alone.

You're walking towards the elevator, already making mental notes to yourself about calling in tomorrow for another meeting when you mindlessly bump into someone once again, catching the stuff that were in your hands before you lost your grip on them, simultaneously letting out spilled apologies before you actually come into eye contact with the person you just hit.

Then, in that spur of the moment, you freeze because you couldn't believe that in front of you is a stranger that once took your breath away. 

He’s probably just as shocked as you are, eyes focusing on you, words not being able to leave his mouth. 

"Hoseok," you breathe out, stumbling backwards a step. Gaining your composure, you take a step forward towards him. "Hi—"

"Don't come anywhere near me," he sneers, retracting every fiber of his body from you as if he put his hand on an aflame stove and you just so happened to be that stove. His reaction takes you aback, only for you to freeze once again.

"I—"

"What are you even doing here?" He hisses, like venom straight in your face.

It takes you a second before you finally swallow down that lump in your throat and straighten yourself. "I had a meeting with Jung Haein—" And just like that it hits you. "Your brother. You run this company, too, huh?"

"A meeting for what?" He dismisses your realization as you realize his eyes are nowhere near yours.

"I'm—"

He puts his hand up, not wanting another word come out of your mouth. "It doesn't matter. Get out now, before I call security," he immediately spits, his eyes not even being able to look at you.

"What?" You gape at him incredulously. 

Apparently, that wasn't an answer he expected nor liked because then, he looks at you with these sharp demeaning eyes that you were completely foreign to. "I help run this hotel company and I could care less as to the reason why you are here in the first place, but I do care as to why you are still standing in front of me, so I suggest you disappear before I actually get you thrown out."

Word gets around fast. Like wildfire.

At least you assumed it did spread that fast because Nadine is sitting at your desk, booty on the table, with awaited answers, her eyelashes batting with much flattery in hopes to make you spill out some words that she can string together as some sort of answer.

Stepping into your office with a bag over your shoulder, your tablet in one hand, and a cup of coffee in the other, you arch an eyebrow at her, pausing at her usual position on your desk that she pulls when she wants something. "What now?"

A smirk is on her face, taking a sip of her coffee from her tumbler and her eyes following your form as you trail over to your desk chair. "You dated Mr. Dick-Me-Down?" She wastes no time in asking after gulping down her coffee.

"And who the hell is Mr. Dick-Me-Down?"

She smiles down at her tumbler. "One of the CEOs of The Novahaven. Unless you did both, which is also a theory—"

"What?" You ask, appalled. "Told by who?"

"Told by a little bird," she muses, crossing her legs as you remove your jacket and hang it on your chair.  

Offering her a little smile, you shake your head. "Well, tell that little bird that I didn't date anyone, especially the CEOs of the company I'm working with for that matter."

"You're doing that," Nadine narrows her eyes and points her finger at you. "You're giving me that smile where you are not telling the whole truth." You let out a light-hearted scoff at her before she lets out a gasp. "You have dated one of them! Come on, I won't say anything!"

"Nadine," you give her a look. "You're the root of every office gossip in this building. I'm not telling you anything."

"Cross my heart, I won't say anything if you tell me what happened between you and Mr. Dick-Me-Down," she promises, but you cock your head to the side. "Please! At least, tell me who they are."

You give out a sigh. "The Novahaven is run by two brothers, Jung Haein and Jung Hoseok. However, I was told that Jung Haein is stepping down and giving the company to Hoseok."

She leans in closer, a devious smile painting her lips. "Which one of them did you date?"

Your eyes narrow at her, but seeing how curious she is, you give out one more sigh as you finally give in. "Hoseok."

Nadine opens her mouth to squeal, but you shake your head at her, giving her a look that represented you say one word of any of this, you're dead. She bites her lip back, interchanging her crossed legs to the other, giving you this excited look. "You dated him? What happened?"

You give her a shrug, taking the papers you stacked at the corner of your desk. "I left him."

"You left him?" She repeats.

"We were together once and we're not together anymore," you flatly state. "What happened is none of your business."

Nadine hums, nodding as she finally hops off your desk. "You didn't cheat though, did you?"

You give her glance at her curious and hopeful eyes, but you manage to stay silent.

"___," Nadine begin. "Please don't tell me you cheated."

"I didn't cheat," you sharply state. "Hoseok and I— we were together for awhile and then we weren't. I left and he let me. And when we weren't together, yeah, I slept with someone else and he just so happened to find out that next morning, but did I cheat? No, I would never. Did I leave him without any word? Yes. And if you asked me if I regretted it, I don't."

Stressed isn't a word you'd begin with. Maybe overwhelmed— and maybe karma is kicking your ass, but either one, it gave you a reason to go to Kona Roasters, the café at the edge of the city, just overlooking the ocean. Your mother used to take you there as a child before the accident happened, and there was no other like that café.

A coffee with coconut milk and toffee syrup is always your order, and you're nearly falling asleep on the edge of the bar, letting the sound of relaxing blues music relax your present self.

"Has it gotten tiring yet holding two positions?" Beau asks, wiping some freshly washed dishes with a rag. He knew you since you were a tot and he knew every challenge you've faced as Kona Roasters had always been your outlook.

You sit up on the bar, eyes opening to look at the busy Beau. "You have no idea."

"How's ya mom?" He ponders, organizing his freshly dried dishes on the side.

"Alright," you breathe out. Beau was always concerned about your mother, as she was his favorite customer. "I haven't racked up the nerves to call her— or visit her."

"Maybe a refill to cheer ya up?" Beau offers instead of questioning you— which you preferred— and you give him a small grateful smile, his little offer he always make to refill your cup is the greatest and most needed thing in the world. He gives a nod, taking your mug gladly as you plop your head back down, trying to construct the absolute idea as to how you're going to deal with anything knowing that you're working with Jung Hoseok's company.

The same Jung Hoseok you fell in love with.

And it's almost weird because it is nearly yesterday that you remember his warm dark eyes just staring into yours, his comforting words that were always the right ones to say, and even his awkward demeanor that he throws on when he's in odd situations and now, he is anything but those memories.

He is livid with a grudge that is understandable, but the first time he sees you in three whole years and not even a welcoming greeting, but daggers through eyes and a spit to the face. He is anything but the warm dark eyes and the comforting words, and he sure as hell does not hold any sort of an awkwardness, even in that considerably odd situation of seeing your ex.

You could laugh about it, and call Yana, begging her to come back from her 6th honeymoon vacay with her husband, who is not her husband. Maybe if you tell her you're in the hospital, that would convince her— you might as well be in the hospital just by the hateful and death-threatening look that Hosoek gave you.

There is someone who sits next to you, and at first you ignore it, letting yourself drown in your thoughts, but you hear the sound of your mug being placed down in front of you, having you finally sit up to grab your mug handle.

Just as you're looking down at the familiar brown color, it doesn't take you long before you realize that Hoseok is sitting next to you. He's not looking at you either, but he didn't need to and neither did you.

"We don't have to like each other," you simply say into your mug. "But I am the one helping design Luminous, so whatever grudge you have against me, just drop it. It'll make work a lot more easier for us."

He doesn't react, but from the corner of your eye, you notice his jaw clench, causing you to sip at your coffee. "I came here to apologize for threatening to call security on our hospitality designer."

Turning your head to look at him, you tilt your head. "How'd you think of finding me here, Hoseok?"

He hesitates. Not because he didn't know how. He knew exactly how, but it wasn't necessarily something he wants to uncover. "You're always here. They make your coffee like no other."

Hearing that, you nod, refraining a smile on your face because you tell yourself that it isn't a shred of hope you're looking for.  "How long have you been here?"

"Not long," he answers, before he sucks in a sharp breath, hopping off the stool and straightening his tie. "I just came to apologize for throwing out my hospitality designer, I never said I was sorry for throwing you out."

When going back to The Novahaven you forget that you're not working with Mr. Jung Haein, you're working with Mr. Jung Hoseok, who just so happens to not be in his office that morning when you arrived with your laptop and pre-set design in mind and created. Instead, you're greeted by a lanky man, who goes by Allen, Jung Hoseok's personal assistant.

At first, you don't mind the P.A. giving out Hoseok's side of his interpreted design and his expectations the first time, but after a few meetings of meeting with Allen instead of the actual person who you're assigned to work with after asking Ardor Interiors's hospitality designer, you realize that he hasn't changed the slightest—

Avoidance was how he was responding to the fact that he has to work with you until Luminance gets finalized in order for you to be out of his hair. With that, you even ask Allen directly if his boss was trying to avoid you every time you schedule with him, but like a good personal assistant, he shook his head, acting as if clueless to such context. Albeit you knew that he was not going to finish this project easily by simply avoiding you and using Allen as a supposed outlet for him to get work done, so you had to do something.

To test this theory, you spent an hour one night making a counterfeit design for one of the hotel rooms he— more like Allen— asked for, to which you sent to him, hoping that he would distaste it so much that he would actually make time to directly talk to you.

"He says he particularly doesn't like the design," his personal assistant says, slapping a folder in front of you as you sat in Hoseok's office. Allen is perceivably blunt and he cares little about the fact that you'd rather talk to his boss than him, and you notice that he cares more about his job. So if he's being used as an avoiding tactic, he will let himself be used.

"He put sticky-notes onto what he wants changed," he flips open the folder for you, pointing at a blue sticky-note. "The blue means he wants the lighting and the furniture changed—"

Rolling your eyes at the absurdity of hearing Hoseok's voice be spoken through someone else, you hastily grab your printed 2D fraudulent model in a folder and walked out of the office with determination masked with annoyance.

"Where're you going?" Allen protrudes, stumbling after you marching outside to make a turn towards the board room where a meeting is being held and Hoseok is demonstrating something through a slideshow. "Wait, you can't go in there! Ms. ___, he's having a meeting—!"

Ignoring Allen's warnings, you push against the door, not minding the pairs of eyes that all turn away from Hoseok towards you once you step in. You're walking over to a baffled Hoseok, eyes deadly before you step in front of him, slapping the folder on the folder and crossing your arms over your chest.

"Are you going to keep using your assistant as the middle man or are you actually going to discuss with me about the changes you want?"

Your question must have went from one of his ear to another because he simply blinks at you, as if you're a fish in water trying to talk to him. However, you wait. Not budging a single muscle until he responds with a genuine answer.

He doesn't but you don't miss the way his jaw clenches as you silently challenge him.

One of the people sat at the table coughs, but you don't leave your eyes from his with stubbornness. "Who may you be?"

You raise an eyebrow at Hoseok before you turn your head to the group who were staring in confusion as to the current situation in motion. "I'm ___, the hospitality designer for Luminous. I'm sure Mr. Jung was discussing his plans about it with you."

"You work with Ardor Interiors, don't you?" One of them in a navy suit asks as you nod in reply. As you respond, he gives a knowing nod to the person who sat in front of them, only for that person to look at you with an expectant look.

"Well, what do you have?"

Your eyebrows raise at the sound of that, the opposite of how Hoseok reacted to such question. "I don't think—"

"Let her speak," a man with bulky glasses hushes Hoseok, his hand held up to silence him. It surprises you, but you give Hoseok an amused smile as he take note of his jaw clenching before he had no choice but to step aside.

You take hold of the laptop he was presenting with while taking out the USB of your model creations from the back of your pocket and plugging it into the port where they appear onto the big screen in front of them.

And the model that you were presenting was your original plan for Luminous, so taking a glimpse of Hoseok's hard reaction, you knew that he was slightly surprised to see a foreign model on the screen.

You're explaining the model and your intentions, incorporating Mr. Jung Hoseok's desire for contemporary look with a hint of European style. You opt for a warm-toned color with proper silhouettes and as opulence is also a factor, as Luminous is the name, you attempt to distinguish it by the luxurious, yet minimal decors placed in certain areas. You're demonstrating what it could look like on the screen as you wrap up the basis of what you design.

Several spread claps are in the air as you finish, surprising you as you give them a small smile, taking your USB from the computer and shoving it back into your back pocket.

"We can work with that," one of them vocally says and you nod pleasingly, looking over at Hoseok who's nearly staring you down.

"Meeting adjourned," the man with bulky glasses decrees, gathering his paperwork and standing up from his seat before all the others. He gives a nod to Hoseok, who nods back at him as everyone packs to leave the board room.

"___," Hoseok calls for your name was you grab the folder you previously slammed on the hard black wood table. "A word in my office, please."

He doesn't spare another glance at you as he takes elongated steps out of the room into his office, passing by a quivering Allen who was shooting you cold glares for not doing his job to  busy you enough to keep you away from Hoseok. Allen scurries on after both of you after ordering at a certain intern to grab a cappuccino.

As you step into Hoseok's office, you watch as he makes a few paced steps before he leans against his own desk, his hands shoved in his pockets as he looks up at you with slight irritation. And it somehow grows when Allen steps in.

"Leave us be," Hoseok says, Allen rapidly nodding before he flees out of the room, closing the door behind him.

"You don't have to scare him like that," you point out, looking at the man who was watching you intently with sharp eyes. "You make him sweat by just staring at him. He cares about his job, he's not going to jeopardize it."

"How do you maintain order if you're not feared upon?"

He was implying Machiavelli— it is better to be feared than loved. You remember him reading The Prince one day, portraying a deep analysis on the interpretation to be a better leader while you were cramming for a test. 

You raise an eyebrow at him. "You don't need to scare your way into getting things done."

He lets out a half-hearted scoff, elicited by the fact that you're still talking back to him. Maybe it was because you didn't quake under his gaze, nor did you fear breathing the same air as him as much as the next person in the building— besides Haein. "That little stunt you pulled earlier was unprofessional."

"More unprofessional than your avoiding tactics?" You arch an eyebrow at him, challengingly. It gets under his skin, but he doesn't show it. He's watching you, silent and expressionless. "You hired me, then you work with me. Simple as that, Hoseok. If you're going to assign meetings with me where I'm only working with your assistant— all because you can't work with me professionally, then go find a different designer that will deal with your bullshit."

Maybe you went a little too far, but either way, you leave it at that, turning around and walking away, knowing that there's no point in sitting around and listening to Allen demand for changes that Hoseok wants, all because he's still remains cold as ice from the last time you saw him.

"You're back!" Nadine hops off your desk, peering over at the long-time-no-see person standing at your office door. Nadine, the seemingly affectionate one, crashes into Yana, who lowly laughs at her excitement in seeing her again after a weeks time off.

You stand up from your seat, walking over to Yana as if she was your breathing guardian angel in sight, bringing her into an embrace where you dwell in the smell of her peonies scent. "Thank gods you're back," you sigh into her hair. "I've missed you."

Missed is an understatement of the century. Maybe working two positions wasn't a good idea— especially when one of the projects include working with lousy-ass Jung Hoseok. But with complaints aside, you were just relieved that she was back and ready to jump back in.

"That's a first," she chuckles as she pulls away, giving you a questioning look. "Alright. What happened when I was gone?"

Nadine, standing in her element right next to you, smirks. "A certain blast from the past showed up."

The sound of that made Yana raise her eyebrows in slight bafflement, you rolling your eyes at the news that you wish weren't true. "No," she breathes out. She knew exactly who this person was since you haven't had much blasts-from-the-pasts before or after Hoseok (except for one,  but he's irrelevant to you) and she didn't need to voice out his forbidden name.

Nodding your head, you purse your lips together. "Yes, which is why I am glad you're back because he is The Novahaven's co-CEO and—"

"Oh, oh— you're working with him?" Yana inquires, her eyes widening as you nod. "For the Luminous hotel project?"

"Which is, technically, your project," you smile. "Yana, he hates my guts. He won't even communicate with me directly— he uses his personal assistant as the monkey in the middle and I refuse to work with someone who can't even stand to act professionally all because of a grudge." Yana listens intently, her thick eyebrows furrowed in a way where she's genuinely listening. "Which is why I sent you the models I created and left some blueprints in your office— so just take everything and just take my place—"

That look of being a genuine listener disappears as she's shaking her head. "Hey! Woah, slow down."

"Yana, please." You were begging— no, you were entreating.

She gives you an encouraging smile, patting your arm. "I'll see what I can do, alright?"

Hoseok hasn't been inside Ardor Interiors's building before, but he is not disappointed. For a company to be on-budget and on-time with a unique sense of taste, the inside of their building truly embodies it.

It's been brought to Hoseok's attention that he had a last minute meeting scheduled with Yana Mal, the same Yana Mal who worked for Bellamy's Interiors and helped designed Sierra Suites before she became director of hospitality design at Ardor Interiors. He met her through Haein's work, briefly, but he knew she had a kind soul. Admittedly, he was pleasant to be meeting with an old acquaintance of his, only to find out that that there was a reason as to why she called in to schedule an 'urgent' meeting.

"Yana Mal, it is great to see you," he says, sitting down professionally in the seat in front of her desk. "I notice that Ardor Interiors is treating you well."

"If you're referring to the amount of time I took off for vacation, then, yes," she nods, a smile playing her lips.

Hoseok chuckles. "I assume you called me here to talk about working out a transition?"

Then he notices her eyebrows scrunch together. "Transition?"

"From ___ to you? We did hire you for the job to design Luminous," he explains, his eyebrows knitting together as well. "Is that not what you called me in here for?"

There's this small smile that Yana wears before it fades away. It's usually meant to ease onto a disappointment that she would shoot out— her secret weapon into breaking bad news. "It is good to see you again, Mr. Jung," she nods. "But just because I asked you to be here doesn't mean I'm going to be making any transitions to work with you. I had one of this company's best design director take over my job as I was gone and it is brought to my attention that you won't even spare her the time of day."

He's opening his mouth to interject, but Yana avoids it, quickly shaking her head.

"If you want one of your many prestige hotels to thrive, I suggest you work with our designer in a mutual understanding on this project as we do share similar taste in design— wouldn't you think?" There's a serious, yet sarcastic smile playing her lips, making Hoseok sit sternly in his seat, but he doesn't budge. "I asked you here not to make a transition but rather to meet a consensus in which you work with who I say you work. And I expect you to abide by ___ standards properly, as I expect her to do the same to you. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Jung?"

There is no hesitation with Hoseok when it comes to Yana. "Crystal."

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

You ask one, simple favor to someone you trust and all of sudden she's backfiring it, making you do the dirty work that, in theory, was originally her's; alas, here you are at The Novahaven's head quarters with a taller chin and rolled back shoulders in an act of professionalism, yet disappointed you had to go back again.

"You started it, you finish it" was what your dear friend in which you took over her position and projects for nearly a month tells you when you ask her for one measly favor to just take over your place— that should've been her's in the first place! The mistreatment of such situation appalls you and it is the only thing you’re thinking about as you’re entering the building.

When you're in foot of Jung Hoseok's office, you don't expect a lot of work or productivity to be attained from this very meeting, but that wasn't going to stop you from setting up necessary rules for both of you to meet.

Setting up two-hour long meetings at the beginning of the week with Jung Hoseok, meeting with the architects that he also hired for the project at least twice a week, not involving Allen into this project other than to bring coffee because it is purely business between you and him, and finally, having to talk to each other directly, regardless of any situation at hand.

"Hand me your phone," you order him, palm up as a gesture.

Hoseok raises an eyebrow at you, his eyes flickering from your hand to your eyes multiple times. "Why?"

"Because you're stubborn," you respond. "And you won't even answer your office phone so I might as well give you my number to have on your cell-phone."

He lets out a scoff, shaking his head. Your hand drops to your side, your eyebrows furrowing. "No need," he states, tending to his paperwork Allen gave him mid-meeting.

"Hoseok, we agreed on proper communication. If you think this is a way for me to—"

"Just because—" he interrupts you, his eyes shooting at yours once again, you realizing that you've punctured a nerve. "—you deleted my number doesn't mean I deleted yours."

Admittedly, that catches you off guard, presented by your lack of words that didn't string out of your tongue easily. It wasn't that you deleted his number in an act of pettiness, but an act of trying to remind yourself to not go back to him— to fight every muscle in you to not text him or leave a message and to talk yourself out of thinking that maybe he'd call one night or one day or one someday. You deleted it for yourself.

He glances at you and your taken aback expression, gathering the paperwork in his hands as stays unfazed from his statement. Letting out a sharp breath, he tilts his chin at you. "Is this meeting over or did you want to stick around for Allen to get you another cup of coffee?"

Immature as you are at that moment, you give him a mocking face, sticking your tongue out before you grab your things, walking out of the building and having this glad feeling knowing that you didn't have to see him— least not for the next three days.

And oddly enough, later that night, you get a text message out of nowhere as you just arrive home from finishing another project.

+99 ********: This is Hoseok. I didn't answer your calls because I'm unavailable between 11am-2pm. I have meetings during that time.

You roll your eyes at him, realizing how simple it would be if he had just told you that in person before you freaked and he baffle you with a statement that implied that he kept your number all along.

You: you still could've gotten back to me

idiot: Consider this me getting back to you.

Maybe setting the rules between you two was a good idea than most.

He doesn't fight with you often anymore— he avoids eye contact, but he still manages to talk to you. And sometimes, you'll crack some sly remarks here and there— nothing too distracting from the job, but to make light of his grouchy demeanor that seems to not only scare his peers, but the cloudy sky of winter outside is evidently brighter than his personality.

"Green walls?" You repeat his choice of color for the lobby's walls at one meeting. For a contemporary feel, green walls was not a general color for most—especially at a hotel.

He gives you a settling look before he shakes his head. "You're right, that'll be terrible."

"No, no, no," you intrude, not wanting to steer him away from his decisions because that's never your intention for other clients. "Green is great... if your intention is to have a lobby meant for ogres like Shrek."

Now, you were holding in a laugh, making him narrow his eyes down at you for making light of the conversation, but as you bite down on your lip to refrain from bursting, you could tell there was at least a ghost of his smile— it was there, but it was gone.

"Here," you say, pursing your lips at him. "These are contemporary examples. I suggest porcelain tiles like these— particularly ivory or light grey, but it is completely up to you."

He nods, looking down at the pictures of examples you brought in for visual guiding. His eyebrows are knitted and he was in complete focus, flipping through the pages, not one seemingly making his eyes light up.

"And if you want," you begin to suggest. "If you really want green walls, we can do porcelain tile walls and a live botanical wall, so these couches and these lights will match along with it."

You pull out your tablet, pulling up a picture of a botanical wall that Yana once implemented in one of the hotels in New York, but you hoped to bring in a sense of inspiration to Hoseok's mind by presenting it to him. And it must have done the exact thing when you meet his eyes and they're lit— exactly the way you hoped to be by hearing one of your suggestions shot out in the open.

"Okay," he agrees. "Good idea."

"Good idea?" You say smugly, writing down the ideas in your notebook in front of you.

And in your peripherals, you notice he gives you a single nod. "Good idea."

That next week, instead of you driving there again, he decided to schedule a meeting with you. At first, it obviously takes you by surprise— every little thing he says or do always does, but you agree to it on the phone, a ghost of a smile on your lips when you think that maybe this could be a sign of a truce you both needed.

When he comes into the building, Nadine calls you. At first, you didn't recognize her voice because it sounded lighter and serious. She tells you that a certain someone is here to meet you and you knew that certain someone is the one and only breathing Mr. Dick-Me-Down in her eyes.

"Do you want me to show him your office?" She asks and before you could even answer, she hastily answers for you. "Right away, ___." And an elongated beep is followed.

You roll your eyes as you hang up, detaching your phone from your ear as you know that this is Nadine's way of interacting with rather attractive patients. You fix your rather messy desk for a more professional presentation to a particular young CEO who just so happens to have a messy past with you. It was then you hear your door being opened, your eyes peering up to meet a scurrying Nadine who closes the door, not a person after her.

"You're going to tell me that that man outside your office— he is Mr. Dick-Me-Down?" She whisper-yells, pointing out the door. Your eyebrows knit together as your own co-worker is seemingly growing weak in the knees for someone who isn't all that. "And you're going to tell me that you left him? That piece of hunk? He really is hotter in person."

"Nadine," you interrupt her current fan-girling. "Mr. Jung probably doesn't want to be called that nickname and I, for one, know that I do not want to hear it. Can you treat him like every other client and just send him in?"

She clicks her tongue at you, turning around to open the door where she let Hoseok wait outside just to have a moment to release her swoon over a CEO that you couldn't even manage to look at without thinking that he actually would like to murder you.

He walks in, a dark gray suit fitted on him nicely and a black tie to top it off. You don't look up at him as your eyes focus on your tablet to pull out his finalized model for his hotel rooms, suites, and lobby.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Jung," you greet him, sparing a glance at him momentarily. He didn't notice it as his eyes are focused somewhere else, wandering around your office that was probably messy in his eyes compared to his neat and orderly office. "Did you want something to drink?"

"I'm alright," he answers, finally taking a seat in front of you where you give him a friendly smile.

"I won't waste time," you nod, taking your tablet and pushing it towards him on the table. "These are my finished models. I don't know if Sungi told you, but the measurements for the lobby is going to run a bit shorter than expected, but it was a minor change and that is what I settled with."

His eyebrows furrow in concentration, scrolling through your models, zooming in and zooming out of certain areas. Truthfully, it makes you anxious as to what he had to say or critique. You've never really finished a project in the lenses of a hospitality designer, but this one you could almost say you were confident in. Almost because Hoseok has the power to completely shatter it.

And as you expectantly sit there, hands growing clammy from clenching your own hands together too tightly, you see an approving nod. You had to blink twice to make sure you were seeing that correctly, but he was nodding.

"I like them," he tells you, handing the tablet back over onto the table.

Your ears couldn't fathom his words. "You do?"

Hoseok folds his hands in his lap, both of his elbows resting on the arm of the chairs before he gives you a single and affirming nod. "I trusted you with my hotel and you didn't disappoint."

You let out a light-hearted scoff, a playful curl of your lips being displayed. "Technically, your brother entrusted me with the hotel."

And oddly, you heard Hoseok let out a chuckle. "Right. And you managed to follow through," he says as it makes you stare at him. "And you didn't disappoint."

"I'm sorry, but are you sure this is Jung Hoseok?" You joke. "Because he usually isn't satisfied with my final products, and he usually will want to change everything to the point where I have to start from scratch."

He scoffs. "It's my hotel, isn't it? You don't go and get a tattoo of what the tattoo artist wants, right?"

"Touché," you acknowledge, laughing at his defense. "But I will say, you're welcome. It is my job to make my clients satisfied, even if that means re-creating everything from the start and staying up at 3 AM to finish it in time."

"You've always been a hard-worker."

"And you've always been so nit-picky with details," you shoot back. "But, I guess, that's apart of what makes you successful."

When he doesn't throw a shady or even light-hearted riposte at you, you take it upon yourself to glance at him, only for him to stare at you questioningly.

"Why do you act like that?" He inquires, sitting straight in his seat.

"Act like what?" You muse. "Nice? Considerate? Maybe, even friendly—?"

"Like nothing happened."

Blinking at him with astonishment from his sudden question, you clear your throat, leaning back into your own chair. It's obvious that the light-heartedness grown from the past days has vanished into thin air. "I don't."

"You act like you didn't leave me," he states. He could have said it in a more colder and harsher tone, but you can tell he is holding it back. The expression on your face prior falls, a frown taking place. "As if you didn't choose to leave."

"I didn't leave you." Words came out quiet, but they were loud in every form. "I left because I had to. And if we're going to bring this up, then let me include the fact that you let me—"

"As if I had asked you to stay, you would?"

"It wouldn't have hurt to try now, wouldn't it?" You snap. "But, you're right! Even if you had begged, I wouldn't have stayed because I wasn't about to hold you back from what you wanted to do the most— and look where it led us."

He stares at you, hard gaze and all.

"You're successful. You're running the company that was given to your brother, that is now given to you, and you, out of everyone, earned it! If I had stayed or if you had left with me, where would that have led you, Hoseok? You're where you are now because I wasn't in your life to hold you back."

And you mean that, with every bone in your body, you mean that. He's where he wants to be— how much different would it have been if you stayed or if he even came with you. But he doesn't see it— and he probably won't.

Hoseok stands up, letting out a scoff as he walks to towards the door.

"Hoseok—"

"Don't act like you left for the sake of me," he fumes. "You left for the sake of yourself. You were tired— tired of your life and tired of being with me, which is why you left. We all know that, so don't you dare turn this around and say it's some heroic tactic or a lover's intention for me to get where I am now because you know damn well that I could've gotten where I am now with or without you."

"Hoseok—!"

"I went out to find you and to apologize and I was about to move to the other side of the country just to be with you," he breathes out exasperatingly. "But you were so quick to give up."

And there was that familiar sound of the door being opened and slammed. You wonder how a different door, at a different place in time, in a slightly different scenario could slam exactly as the same door that was slammed at your new place, after he had found you in bed with someone else. It shook your office exactly the same way it shook your old place. Same force, same pull, same anger.

You close your eyes, letting your fingers massage your temples as you try to tell yourself to breathe. It was rather difficult, because as your eyes are closed you are transcended back to the time where you're in a t-shirt that is not yours nor Hoseok's and you're grabbing onto him, trying to find some sort of grip to keep him steady, to make him stay— but like sand, it was impossible. He left and you cried, and you didn't go after him.

"___?" Yana's voice is heard after a few knocks on your door. You don't say anything, but she opens it anyways.

"Was that Hoseok who just stormed off?"

You inhale sharply before you open your eyes again, allowing yourself to peer up at Yana's empathetic eyes, her form approaching you slowly. "Yeah," you swallow, taking a quick breath. "Three years, and we never got closure."

"Why don't you just tell him why you left? The real reason?" She asks, raising her eyebrow at you, hands on her hips as if she was giving you some sort of lecture.

You shook your head, your eyes focusing on your orchid plant on your desk. "It's too late for that."

Yana lets out a string of tsks. "___," she begins. "If you tell him the real reason why you left, he can't get mad at you."

"He'll get mad that I didn't tell him in the first place. He'll be angry with me, regardless."

"Maybe. But then at least, he'll understand."