#“pissing off” my coworker by being polite and doing small things for her like putting her lunch in the fridge when she forgets to put it in

[sapsolais]

<3

[whumpmatsus]

So. Todomatsu always ACTS like he hates that Karamatsu is so eccentric, but we all know he actually doesn't mind that much. If anyone else made fun of him for that stuff, I can't help but think he wouldn't let it fly. So what about a situation where Karamatsu gets made fun of/bullied/put down by someone OUTSIDE the family for being the way he be and Todomatsu gets an opportunity to go into full protective mode over him??

OH SHIT the youngest of them goes feral

dare I say... RELEASE THE BABY!!!!!

God I love Zaimoku, it’s so good <3

-

If Totty is being completely, utterly, unfailingly honest with himself, his brothers need his help if one of them is going to be going on a date.

Really, he’s the only one who has any clue about how to act on a date! He could hit his big brothers over the head with a Clue-by-four with that shit and they still wouldn’t really get it.

Even so… part of him thinks he shouldn’t really be following Karamatsu to a date. Karamatsu is the one Totty knows is never going to come running to him for advice or assistance, especially with girls; he’s got the undeserved ego of an avocado toast sandwich. Totty isn’t sure he’d be pleased to know his baby brother tagged along not because he has to sort out a schedule thing at work, but because he wants to keep an eye on Karamatsu.

What else is he supposed to do, though? Just let Karamatsu go alone and totally blow it? His usual behavior aside, Totty really wants his big brothers to be happy and have fulfilling relationships. He thinks if he can be there to keep an eye on things, well, maybe it won’t go so bad. Maybe Karamatsu will have a shot with this woman. Maybe he’ll get a girlfriend!

The very idea was enough to make him feel a little better about lying so that his brother will take him along. It eases his conscience, imagining that if he manages to help Karamatsu out to the point that the second eldest ends up in a loving, joyful relationship, (obviously as opposed to the past few horrible ones he’s had), then a little fib isn’t so bad, is it?

After all, if he were the one in need of something like this, he’d be grateful for his brothers’ help however they did it.

Of course, when he sees the look this girl gives Karamatsu, a look like the kind a baby gives after licking a lemon for the first time, Totty can’t help but wince. This isn’t off to a great start. He lingers by the counter, greeting Sacchi and Aida, trying not to look as if he’s watching his big brother’s date.

“Aren’t you off today, Totty?” Sacchi hums as she turns to start making a drink.

He nods. “Yeah, well, I can’t stay away, I guess, haha.”

Aida jerks her head toward the table where Karamatsu and his date are. “That’s one of your brothers, right? Still as painful as ever,” she teases. “Is he… oh, my God, he’s on a date??”

“Shhhh, shh!” Totty waves his hands a little, hoping to get his friends to quiet down a little. The last thing Karamatsu needs is to be drawing attention. “He thinks I tagged along to talk to you guys about my schedule. But, yes, he’s here on a date.”

Sacchi finishes serving her customer, one of the few in the shop at the moment, and then leans against the counter to look over. “Aw, good for him. He’s not either of our types, but he deserves a shot with someone who’s interested.”

He lets out a soft sigh. “Agreed there. I kind of just wanna keep an eye on him, you know? To make sure he doesn’t mess it up too much. He should have let me pick his outfit, ugh… that aside, he’s doing okay so far, though, I think.”

Aida frowns as she slides a cup of coffee toward her coworker. “Um, I hate to burst your bubble, but he’s got his work cut out for him. I’ve been to some mixers with that girl, and she always finds something wrong with every guy she hangs out with.”

“She’s right,” Sacchi adds. “Good thing you came along so you can carry him home, ‘cause that girl’s gonna tear him to pieces. I mean, she went out with Atsushi and the next day he was in here crying and telling me she made him feel two inches tall. Nobody’s good enough for her.”

Aida clicks her tongue. “Your big brother’s in big trouble, Totty.”

It’s Totty’s turn to frown as he looks toward Karamatsu. Unfortunately, Sutabaa is so small and he’s close enough that he doesn’t have to strain too much to hear what’s being said.

The woman is laughing. However… Karamatsu hasn’t even really opened his mouth yet. “Oh, my God! You’re my date, huh? Last time I let my sister set me up. That bitch, haha. Ah, well… wow, your jacket is hurting my eyes. Could you take it off?”

Karamatsu seems to be trying his best to smile. “O-oh, yes, of course.” He moves to tug it off, folding it over the back of his chair. “Please forgive me. Anyway, my name is Karamatsu. And you, my angel?”

“Ahaha, WHAT?” The woman raises an eyebrow at him. “C’mon, dude. Don’t call me that. I’m nobody’s angel.”

Totty feels himself starting to steam. You’ve got that right.

“A-ah… right, my apologies.” Karamatsu just keeps smiling. The expression on his face reads almost like he’s in pain. “Well, should we order?”

She gives a cursory glance toward the menu, then suddenly her eyes are drawn to Karamatsu again. “Oh, my God, hold on… is… is that your face on your shirt?! Holy shit! Are you really that full of yourself?”

Totty’s heart sinks as his brother’s cheeks flush bright red. This is not going well. And while, yes, Karamatsu probably should have picked a different shirt, what’s really wrong with what he’s wearing? Even though he’s a little over-the-top and dramatic, this woman can’t know whether or not he’s ‘full of himself’ when she’s barely letting him get a word in.

Totty is the most socially intelligent of his brothers, and even he doesn’t think Karamatsu’s actually doing anything wrong. He hasn’t drawn anyone else’s attention like he usually does, he hasn’t gone overboard with any poses, and he’s… kind of just being himself, slightly toned down. It’s not like he’s bragging or being a jerk. Hell, it’s just a strange fashion choice; how the hell does she think it has any bearing on what he’s like as a person?

“Damn,” Sacchi cringes. “She’s not wasting any time, is she?”

Aida gives a pout toward her friends. “He didn’t even do anything wrong yet. He’s been a perfect gentleman.”

“Yeah, he’s just a little odd and, like, a tiny bit painful. But he’s acting really nice and polite.” Sacchi sighs as she props her head up on her hand. “There’s no pleasing some people. Aida, why don’t you go take their order? Maybe you can accidentally spill it on that pretentious top of hers when you bring it to them.”

“Pfff, if only. I’m on it, though.”

Totty continues to fume as he watches his poor brother try to impress this girl, pretty much in vain. He gets the feeling that nothing Karamatsu says or does is going to be good enough. For some reason, that really pisses him off. Despite the fact that Karamatsu can be a bit much, that he’s overcompensating for being insecure on the inside, that everyone rolls their eyes at him… Karamatsu isn’t a bad guy. He tries hard to make other people happy and treats them with respect. Even his brothers who don’t always return the favor.

By the point Sacchi and Aida are finished making their order, the youngest is ready to explode at this woman. She never even told Karamatsu her name, but she’s spent the whole time talking him down. When she asked what he did ‘besides be super excruciating’, and he told her he didn’t really have a job, she laughed at him. He tried to save it by saying he occasionally played guitar at coffee shops, and she responded something along the lines of, “What kind of hipster loser does that these days??”

Listening to it just makes him so angry. She doesn’t think Karamatsu is attractive, she’s called him embarrassing more than once, and no matter what he does or says, she’s not happy with it. Why the fuck did she even bother going out with him, then?

Totty was worried that Karamatsu was going to screw this up; so far he’s actually managed to be a decent date. He wasn’t prepared for his brother’s date to be the shitty one.

Sacchi brings him a simple iced coffee while Aida returns with the serving tray, a fake smile on her face from laughing uncomfortably at one of the woman’s comments. “God, she’s exhausting.”

“I don’t even know her and I can’t stand her,” Totty mutterrs before taking a sip of his drink. “Why the hell is she treating him like that? He’s just… being himself!”

Being himself. Karamatsu’s really not doing anything wrong. He’s trying to talk himself up when this woman gives him a chance to, but who doesn’t talk themself up on a first date? He just wants to impress her.

It makes Totty feel a little guilty to realize that, honestly, all Karamatsu really wants is to impress everyone because he wants people to like him… including his brothers. If Karamatsu feels the need to seek love and acceptance from strangers like this girl, to the point that he’s willing to put up with the horrible way she’s treating him, what does that say about his brothers? It’s not the first time he’s sucked it up and dealt with something he shouldn’t have from someone just because he wants that person to love him.

His attention is drawn by the woman giggling a little too loudly. “Fuck, you wanna go out with me again? I mean, how do you think this is going? I’m two seconds away from sneaking out the bathroom window. You’re so obnoxious, you dress like an edgy middle schooler, and who wears sunglasses inside, especially when it’s raining outside? You’re, like, cringe incarnate.”

Completely contradicting every statement she made, she slid her hand across the table to take his, if only for a brief moment. The wicked look in her eyes, more sadistic than even Ichimatsu, made Totty’s stomach twist in anger. “I might keep you around, though. You seem like a guy who’d keep me laughing for a while. Maybe next time I’ll take you out with my friends so everyone can laugh at you.”

Oh, that’s it.

He doesn’t know if Karamatsu is oblivious to what she means because he’s blinded and deafened by the promise of another date, or if he knows exactly what she means but perhaps thinks it’s worth it. His eyes light up… and behind that hopeful spark is the pain she’s already put him through.

Baby of the bunch though he is, Totty isn’t going to sit around and twiddle his thumbs while some bitch takes advantage of his big brother.

“Oh, that is sooooo not happening!” he calls as he approaches the table. Although he feels a little bad about just stepping in like this, he’s not gonna let her get away with treating Karamatsu like that. Laughing at him herself was bad enough; parading him in front of her friends for all of them to laugh at him when there’s nothing wrong with Karamatsu isn’t gonna happen if Totty has something to say about it.

The woman gives him an unimpressed look. “Who the fuck are you?”

“T-Totty!!” Karamatsu,  on the other hand, looks immediately panicked. “I can handle this… please, go back and fix your schedule, and I’ll meet you at home.”

“Wait, you work here?” She tilts her head at him. “Oh, shit, hold up. You’re the asshole who messed up my drink last time I was here.” Her gaze flits between the two of them, and she laughs again.

“― Oh, my God! You had to bring your twin brother along to come on a date? You’re pathetic!” Her hand pulls away from Karamatsu’s. “Oh, you’re definitely coming out with me and my friends.”

Totty hisses and pushes her hand away from Karamatsu’s. He steps in front of his big brother to physically block this woman from him. “Keep your hands off him! You’re not taking him anywhere. He’s never seeing you again, because you treated him like… like, fuck, I wouldn’t treat a rock the way you treated him!”

He hears Karamatsu make a noise of almost-protest behind him; he can just imagine the other man sinking down in his seat and trying to hide his face. “Totty, please…”

“No! No, she doesn’t get to just treat you like dirt, Karamatsu-nii-san! You think my brother’s just some kind of dumbass you can show off to your friends and laugh at and treat him like crap?!” he snarls. “Well, guess what? He may be sort of a dumbass sometimes, and maybe he’s a little painful, and maybe he’s not the perfect guy you’re looking for! But he’s a whole hell of a better person than you are!”

Although Totty could kick himself for not saying anything to Karamatsu before, it might be best it’s coming out now. He doesn’t have a lot of time to really think about it or pretend or rehearse. What he’s saying isn’t practiced, it’s real. “Karamatsu is the kindest person I know, and you wish you had at least half the passion he does for the things he likes! Who cares that he wears a shirt with his own face on it? He was bending over backwards to make you happy, even though everything out of your mouth was word barf about how embarrassing he is! And, by the way, you’re wrong!”

It only takes half a step for him to reach over to grab his coffee from the counter, assisted by Aida who’s smirking as she holds it out for him. “If my choice was between you or him, I’d be way less embarrassed to be seen in public with him than with you! He’s not perfect, but he cares about people, and he’s always there when you need him, and ― and all this stuff you think is embarrassing, who the hell gives a shit?! It’s what he wants to do and it’s not hurting anyone! I’d break my phone before I let my big brother go out with someone like you again! Maybe he keeps striking out with dates, but he’s never going to be that desperate!”

He feels a little bad about what he’s about to do. That feeling is mitigated by the fact that at least his coffee isn’t hot.

“And, you know, I actually am sorry about messing up your drink last time. So here, you can have mine!” Almost before he’s finished speaking, he’s dumped his entire cup over her head.

He doesn’t stick around to deal with the aftermath aside from seeing the look of abject horror on the woman’s face as the coffee makes her bad mascara drip. And even though there’s a little bit of guilt over the fact that he’s leaving his coworkers to deal with her, the fact that Sacchi and Aida are cackling while they gather up napkins eases his mind.

He grabs Karamatsu by the hand and leads him out, tossing his coffee cup on the way. There’s not much choice on Karamatsu’s part, except he doesn’t particularly look as if he minds that.

“You didn’t… have to do that, Totty,” Karamatsu mumbles. When Totty glances over, the second eldest looks more tired than anything. He knows that look; the exhaustion of something not working out, of thinking you had a chance only for it to all go up in smoke.

Totty huffs, marching the two of them in the direction that leads back home. “Of course I did! You weren’t going to do it, so someone had to. God… you’ve gotta stop letting people walk all over you, Karamatsu-nii-chan.”

The shift to the more affectionate honorific suggests to Karamatsu that this is really, truly something Totty cares about. He squeezes his baby brother’s hand with a thoughtful hum. “… If that’s the case, perhaps a romance for me just isn’t in the cards. I… really thought it was going to go somewhere this time.”

At last Totty slows slightly, from an aggressive pace to something a little calmer. He’s still pissed off that someone treated Karamatsu like that, and although he’s a bit upset that Karamatsu sit there and let it happen, he knows what it’s like to want people to like you so much that you’ll put up with nearly anything.

However, that’s also the reason he doesn’t want Karamatsu just putting up with it. He deserves so much better than to have people treat him like dirt. It’s not right to do that to anybody, but… especially not to Totty’s big brother.

“I’m sorry I kind of… tapped into Murder Totty in there,” he sighs. “Did I go overboard?”

Karamatsu shrugs. “Maybe a little. But I wasn’t truly enjoying myself and I didn’t want to go on another date with her. I just… didn’t know how to tell her no. I suppose I really am lucky you were there, too.”

Silence falls between them while they walk, then after a moment, Karamatsu clears his throat. “Totty… did you… mean all those things?”

“Huh? All what things?”

“Those things, you know… you said I was… kind and passionate and reliable.” He lets out a soft laugh. “You… you said you’d rather break your phone than let me go out with her again.”

… Oh. He. Did say that, didn’t he?

He pouts a bit, then squeezes Karamatsu’s hand. “Yeah, I meant it. Of course I meant it.”

Beat.

“But as much as I love you, I’m just glad I don’t have to do that.”

[skylarmoon71]

Nick Jakoby x Reader Oneshot- (Bright)

“Oink, oink over here piggy!” 

The group of men standing in the doorway made you grimace. Damn they pissed you off. Nick walked pass them with his head lowered, trying his best to ignore the rude remarks. You’d just clocked in, and this had become a regular. Their tauntings. You really wanted to body slam all four of them. But you restrained yourself. “Don’t bother with them Nick, their dick heads. “ It was no secret that they hated the male Orc. Nick was by far the sweetest man on the force, and he wasn’t even a man. Which really said something for the unit. 

“I’m used to it, it’s fine.” you frowned. He shouldn’t have to get used to it. He was just as hardworking and diligent as any other cop. You nudged his shoulder with a smile as you walked with him. “Cheer up, in a couple of hours we have that awful dinner to attend. You have worse things ahead." Nick shook his head with a shy smile. “Is that supposed to make me feel better.” 

“Not really.” with a small giggle, you met your partner. Nick headed over to Ward, and your eyes wandered, just admiring him. You had no idea why people gave him such a hard time. It’s true that Orcs sided with the enemy in the past, but that was thousands of years ago. The world had changed so much since then, apparently not in the ways you hoped. 

Nick was so misunderstood and underappreciated. He had so much to offer if he was just given a chance. Not to mention he was a total sweetheart. Pretty handsome too. The final thought erupts a blush to your cheek, one that doesn’t go unnoticed by your partner.

“What’s got you all red in the face?” Jacob, your partner raises an eyebrow, and your face gets darker. “Nothing let’s get going.” he doesn’t quite believe you, and you try to steal one last look at Nick before you have to get going, but Jacob catches the action, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“Shit I knew it!!” His yell catches the attention of everyone in a five mile radius and as the officers stare, you feel Nick’s stare follow. You cower, smacking Jacob who just waves everyone off. When their gazes have diverted, you glare at the man before you. He raises his hands defensively. “Sorry, sorry didn’t mean to cause a scene. Not everyday you discover your partner has a crush. Damn Victoria owes me twenty bucks!” 

“Y-You betted on my love life with your wife!!” 

“Umm, hell yeah I did. Why are you even surprised?” he was right, you shouldn’t have been. You just roll your eyes, and soon the both of you are headed to the squad car. Jacob is still wearing that smug grin as you jump into the vehicle. “So when are you gonna ask him out?” 

“I-I’m not!” 

“You’re kidding, you have to (Y/N)!” Jacob has always been majorly supportive, but you’re still a little anxious. Your head lowers. “Y-You don’t think it’s weird that I..I mean I don’t  care if anyone says anything but I just..I..” The way you're struggling with your words, it’s not hard for Jacob to understand. “Listen, I’d never judge you for something like that. We’re partners (Y/N), practically family now. And honestly Nick is awesome, dude brings me scones every Tuesday cause he passes at my favorite shop on his way to work. He’s a hero in my book.” He lets out a few fake sobs to get his point across and you just groan at his childishness.

“Seriously though, Nick’s a really good guy. Everyone treats him like shit, yet he comes back and tells them to be safe. If it were me, I don’t think I’d be able to handle it that well. He could easily quit, probably just become the monster everyone keeps accusing him of being. But he wakes up and he does the job, all because he loves it, he generally cares about protecting people who don’t give a shit about him. It’s inspiring to watch. There aren’t many people like left in this world (Y/N), if you find someone like that, you should do what you can to hold onto them.” His finger ran over his wedding band, a smile playing on his lips. “That’s what I did.” His smile makes your face brighten, and you nod. 

“I’ll do my best. “ 

So maybe your partner wasn’t a complete idiot. 

That afternoon when you get home, you’re on a mission. Jacob’s advice is ringing in your head. He’s right. So you’ve decided this annual police will be your best yet. You were gonna go all out. You rarely ever get dressed up, too accustomed to dark suit pants and uncomfortable belts. You wanted something to catch Nick’s attention, then maybe it would give you the confidence to finally own up to your feelings and ask the guy out. You jump into the shower. 

“Time to knock them dead. “ 

~Three hours later~

“Quit fidgeting, you look fine.” Ward smacks Nick’s hands away from the tie. He’s been messing with it for the last ten minutes, mostly out of nervousness. This is his first time he’s worn a tux. He feels a bit ridiculous, but with Ward’s assurance, he can only hope he’s pulling it off. They stand at a table making small talk, mostly Ward. 

Nick offers a word here and there. By the looks he keeps getting, he can tell that his opinion isn’t really wanted by the people there. So he busies himself with watching the other people mingling around him. Everyone looks relaxed, sipping wine, helpling themselves to food. He’s never been a fan of this. Every year they hold these little banquets to treat the new recruits and commend exemplary performances throughout the unit. It’s a fun event for the most part. But his fellow coworkers never rest with their harsh opinions. It isn’t even verbal, just by the looks he knows. 

The sound of a few whistles catches his attention. There’s a small commotion at the doorway. He vaguely makes out the edge of purple, and that’s when he notices the man that walks in. But that isn’t what captures his eyes, it’s the woman he’s escorting on his arm. 

Golden orbs widen, and his ears twitch a bit too quickly. He wants to control it, but it’s hard, because the smile that lands in his direction knocks the wind right out of him. “Wow, your girlfriend cleans up nice.” Ward whispers. 

“S-She’s not my girlfriend.” he grumbles back. Now that you’re clear in his view, he can fully admire your dress. It’s a velvet luxe maxi dress. The color is a beautiful lavender. Thin straps at the shoulder, low cut displaying just enough cleavage. And a slit that stops mid thigh, with matching heels to complete the whole look. Your hair is loose, and a very light amount of makeup, highlighting your features. Nick thought you were gorgeous before, but somehow you’ve outdone yourself. He can’t look away, and he really should before you take notice.You settle at a table not too far from him, pulling the focus of a few males present there. With polite smiles and little words, Nick feels a bit envious. 

“Now’s your chance hotshot. Ask her out before one of those hyenas beat you to it.” Nick wants to convince Ward that it’s useless, there’s no way you’d go for someone like him. You’re completely different in every sense of the word. He doesn’t have a chance. As he opens his mouth he’s about to lay out his case, but a sweet lavender scent fills his nostrils, and he wants to question the origin, just then he feels a light tap on his shoulder. He turns, and the heavenly aroma hits him tenfold. Somehow you’ve walked over without him realizing. He’s supposed to be more aware, he’s a cop after all. Your glossed lips turn into a smile as you bat your eyes. 

“Nick..do you wanna maybe dance?” 

The slow sound filling the room, doubled with the couples now filling up the floor catches his eyes. He’s tongue tied, because you can’t really be asking him. Out of all the guys there, why him? Yes, the both of you have been friends for months now, but he’s sort of assumed your kindness was due to pity more than anything else. 

You're still watching him hopefully, and Ward gives an encouraging push. He stumbles, grabbing your shoulders lightly. When he’s steadied himself, he pulls back. “He’d love to.” Ward says. Nick doesn’t get a chance to put in a word for himself, because you smile, taking his hand and pulling him to the center of the dance floor. Nick is staggering behind, trying not to knock into anyone. When you get to your desired area, you turn back to him. Nick is stiff, the both of you are just standing there, a number of eyes on you. “I-I should probably just go, everyone is staring and I’d hate to make you uncomfortable.” 

“I’m not uncomfortable.” His eyes lift, and the way you look at him, it makes his heart hammer. What has he done to deserve your kindness, he has no idea. 

Deciding that you need to be the one to make a move, you take his hands and place them around your waist as you step closer. You can feel the slight tremble in his palms that are pressed to your body now. It’s so adorable. He’s still stiff as a board, but you know he’s trying. He’s probably so touch starved. It hurts to just think about it. Your hands are resting on his chest lightly, and you sigh, swaying with the music. Nick swallows, he’s a bit taller than you, and he’s trying his best not to look down directly at you. With you so close it’s hard for him not to pass out at how amazing you smell. Your hands slide up, going around his neck. His eyes finally meet yours, and the meaning in your eyes, it triggers something in him. “Nick..” you’re whispering, and it breaks his train of thought. “Yeah.” you lick your lips, and he wishes he could just kiss those plump lips. They are begging to be touched.  

“Do you possibly want to-” a hand pulling you from the Orc in your arms makes you jerk. Nick looks just as surprised. The officer standing between the both of you, suddenly it makes sense, and you're pissed. ��Run along pig face, she’s tired of you.” Pollard rests a hand on your waist, pulling you into his side, and you shove him back. “You’re the one who’s interrupting, what the hell we were dancing!!” you're enraged. Not only has he messed up your plan to finally ask Nick out, but he’s also insulted him. Nick can see the displeasure on your face, and he’s about to suggest that maybe you leave. The last thing he wants is for you to get caught in the middle of this. He could take Pollard’s insults any day. But he doesn’t want any negative attention drawn to you. 

“Come on you don’t have to give anymore charity, we all know why you do this. You feel bad for little piggy here. Don’t waste your evening on him, how about you come with me. Have some real fun.” It’s almost laughable that he thinks you’ll drop everything and just run off with him. Nick now looks less sure of himself, a bit defeated. It’s then you realize that he must have assumed the same. You’re being nice out of some foolish obligation. You open your mouth to assure him, but stop. This time, words may not be enough. It’s time to take action. So with two swift strides you grab Nick by the lapels of his shirt and pull him in for a kiss. Pollard gapes, and Nick is tense and wide eyed. 

“I’m dreaming…” He has to be. You couldn’t be..kissing him. Your eyes are closed, and you still have a firm hold on his clothing. A few more seconds pass and you pull back slowly. Your eyes move from Nick’s soft lips, to his topaz eyes. The bewildered expression is highly anticipated. 

“If you’ll excuse us, we have business to attend to.” you take Nick’s hand, leaving a stunned Pollard, and a few surprised officers. You don’t even look back, you do however pass Jacob on your way out of the building. He’s grinning probably wider than you. When the door snaps shut behind you and you're free of the intrusive stares, you look at Nick. He’s still in a mid state of shock. “I’m sorry..” you mutter. 

Now that the events play back, you’re bashful. You didn’t even get to ask him out. Nick collects himself slowly, shaking his head. “N-No it’s fine.” An awkward silence follows. You want to say something to cut the tension, but Nick interrupts. “I should take you home.” He doesn't look at you when he says that, and now you're a bit scared that you’ve crossed a line and misread all the signs. Self conscious and mortified, you just nod. Nick’s car is parked close, as he opens the door, you jump inside. He does the same, pulling off. 

The ride is anything but pleasant. It’s so quiet you can hear a pin drop. Nick is staring ahead, and the look he wears is unreadable. 

“I ruined everything.” You should have never done that, especially since you weren’t even sure of any feelings. He must be completely disgusted with you. You're thankful that the ride isn’t long, because in a few minutes he pulls up. You don’t make any kind of eye contact, just whisper a thanks, opening the door and stepping out. 

You want to cry, how did the night turn so horrible that quickly. As you close the vehicle door, you all but sprint to your house, taking out your keys and opening your front door. You don’t even bid him goodbye, you just focus on getting inside. You do, stepping in and leaning back as you shut the door. “Idiot!” you scold yourself. “I’m an idiot..” you bite your lip. How would you ever face him again. 

The knock at your door makes you jump, and you turn, opening the door hesitantly. You peek outside, a bit surprised. “N-Nick..” He’s staring at you, maybe wanting answers for all that happened. You step back, letting him inside. He’s the one that closes the door this time. 

“Why did you kiss me?” Blunt, to the point. From the look, you know he’s just as conflicted by all of this as you. Now might be your last chance. You’ve already kissed him, what was the harm in telling him the truth. It might help you both.

“Because I..It’s what I’ve wanted to do for months now. “ you confess. His forehead creases in astonishment. “Nick I’ve..I’ve had it bad for you for so long and it makes my blood boil every time I hear the way they talk to you! You’re so caring and selfless and goddamn hot to me and I wish everyone could see how amazing you are if they’d just give you an opportunity.” you’re rambling, but you don’t care. “That jackass Pollard ruined everything I had this whole night planned out, I was gonna wow you with this dress and then finally ask you out but then he came with his false macho bullshit and it just pissed me off and that’s why I grabbed you like that to show him that this isn’t some charity I actually am crazy about you and I..” you heave, for a minute there you forgot you should breathe. “I’m so crazy about you Nick.” 

He’s still just standing there, and now you’ve given him a chance to speak. From his expression, he doesn’t know what to say. You were so out of his league. 

“I don’t understand why you would..why..” that self conscious  look, you’ve seen it many times. 

“Nick, I want you.” he stops, eyes opening a bit wider now. “I’m tired of you being so hard on yourself. You have nothing to be ashamed of.  “ you take a step forward, and he doesn’t move a muscle. “Truthfully, when I saw you earlier in this tux, I almost passed out. “ your hands reach out, going back to where they had been before Pollard stepped in. Resting right on his broad shoulders. Another thing about him that made you swoon was his build. He was nicely muscular. It just messed you up. He needs a moment to gather his breath. “Nick do you..want me?” 

“Of course!” his shout, as unexpected as it is, it makes you smile. He looks away at how desperate it sounded. “That’s good..” you don’t clarify, just lean in, and this time when your lips meet, he still doesn’t really prepare. It’s so tender, almost tentative. When he finally convinces his mind that it’s real, his hands wrap around your body, pulling you in. You sigh, and Nick responds, returning the kiss. Your head is in the clouds, You feel like you’re dreaming, if that’s the case you want to stay forever. You open your mouth, urging him to do the same, he does, taking control. 

You moan when he pushes you up against the door, now kissing you hungrily. One of his hands drift down to your bare thigh, and another needy sound releases. You can’t stop it and you don’t want to. His free hand presses to the door, and your hands grip at the clothes on his back. You’re trying to pull him forward, and he complies, pressing into you. It feels so great, his firm body trapping you there. There’s a low growl that comes from Nick, and somehow you’re even more turned on. Your hands have ventured back to the front of his tux, unbuttoning it quickly. It falls open and your fingers slip under the jacket, reveling in the taunt muscles. 

Gosh does he feel amazing. Nick feels you start to pull at the shirt, he forces himself to part. When you’ve separated, you’re both flushed and panting. Nick still believes maybe he’s at home sleeping somehow. The new scent that fills the air nearly makes his knees buckle. Your lust is so prominent, he can almost taste it. Your chest is still heaving, but you're slowly coming down from your high, so is Nick. It’s then you realize what was about to happen if not for Nick’s pause. You feel a bit embarrassed now. You hug yourself, blushing a deep red. 

“S-Sorry, guess I kind of got a bit crazy..” Nick smiles. “You don’t have to apologize.” He’d be stupid to make you feel bad about such a thing. He was just as equally responsible. Fact is, it took everything in him to stop himself. As much as he wants this to progress, he also wants more than just a heated night with you. He wants so much more. 

“(Y/N), I’d..really like to take you out sometime..” he mumbles it, still fairly insecure about it all. The way your eyes light up though, his fears are all gone. You don’t respond, and he doesn’t need one because you jump into his arms, pressing a kiss to his cheek, grinning like a child on Christmas.

“You don’t even have to ask, it’s a yes.” you  whisper in his ear. He holds you close, breathing in your scent. He wants to lock that away forever. He wants this to last forever. For now though, just being with you now, it’s enough.

[dreamerhideout]

i love you so

summary: after recovering from a messy break-up with your high school sweetheart, you’d never expect to find happiness in someone who bumped into you on the subway. but that’s where jake sim comes in.

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort, office!au

characters: jake x reader, mentions of ex-boyfriend!jay

warnings: partially proofread, but besides that, none

word count: 1946

a/n: this was supposed to be an entry for the “and then we met” @enhypenwriters writing event, but i think i lost the muse for this a bit too fast (plus, school swamped me again.) i literally wanted to base it off this song by the walters until it dawned on me that it was a heartbreak song :/ hence i made a few adjustments. i’m not quite sure if i’m fully satisfied with how this turned out, but i hope you still enjoy it~

more under the cut!

your heels clicked on the platform as you weaved your way through the crowd of people. it was a bustling monday morning, and waking up half an hour late was not how you expected to start your week. bingeing on this one political-drama show the night before began to feel like a regrettable choice, but there was no time to dwell on that when you see your train pulling up at the platform.

“oh damn, i’m so sorry.”

maybe it was because of how distracted you were from your surroundings that you hadn’t realized that someone bumped into you. as a result, you barely noticed that your coat had gotten stained from the coffee in their cup.

you gave them an apologetic smile, too rushed to get pissed. “no worries.” pausing for a second, you registered the culprit to be a man with a head of chocolate-brown hair and slightly frantic eyes before jogging towards the open subway cart door. once you got on the nearly-stuffed train, your eyes peered down towards your coat. sighing, you swiped at your coffee-stained coat with your finger; perhaps you’d be able to get it cleaned at the office later on if you weren’t getting your ear chewed off by your manager.

-

“we have a new employee joining us today.”

exiting the bathroom door with a slightly-scrubbed coat in hand, you heard your manager call out, then the chatter in the room subsiding. she was standing beside a man that you wouldn’t have vaguely remembered seeing before if it weren’t for the small smile he gave you.

“hi everyone, i’m jake sim. i’ll be working under the research department starting today. it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

you recognized that voice a little too well, then glancing at your dampened coat. who knew that the man you hastily bumped into this morning would be working at your office?

“jake will be occupying the desk next to (y/n)’s, and he’ll also be under my supervision as he’s still on trial for the next two weeks.” almost instantly, your manager turned towards you, who was still standing in front of the bathroom door.

“oh, yes,” you replied, eyes widening slightly. you went towards your cubicle and motioned to the empty desk beside you for jake to put his things, “over here.”

he walked over and placed a box filled with his belongings on top of the table, then unpacking. “well, i never thought i’d see you here,” he chuckled, “really sorry for what happened earlier, by the way.”

“eh, it’s no big deal.” you draped your coat over your chair for it to dry, “i managed to scrub off most of the stain, so it should be fine.”

“are you sure it isn’t ruined?” he turned to face you, slightly quirking an eyebrow.

you grinned in response, “positive."

jake had placed some stationery into a pencil holder before extending out a hand towards you. “i know i’ve introduced myself earlier.” he smiled rather awkwardly, “but for the sake of us being desk-mates, i’ll do it again. i’m jake.”

your hand met his for a quick shake, a knowing smile on your face. “(y/n). nice to meet you.”

-

if you were sure about one thing, it’d be that time flies by when you’re drowning in deadlines. the sun had already disappeared, yet you still sat hunched over your laptop, fingers typing away at a report due tomorrow assigned a few hours ago. you would have argued with your manager on the matter, but the glare she gave you as you were about to open your mouth was enough to make you shrink back into your seat.

out of habit, you grabbed your phone and unlocked it, expecting to see a message notification from jay, your boyfriend, who’d usually come to pick you up from work. when you didn’t receive one, however, it only dawned on you once again that you weren’t even with him anymore. he was the reason why your routine for the past few months had been working and binge-watching on repeat, with the occasional cry session if you were feeling really out of it. moving on after said breakup had been difficult, especially when it involved the very person who vowed to marry you on the day of your high school graduation.

“working overtime?”

you peered up from your head in your hands to see jake. he had pushed his chair back and was looking at you past the divider. it was way past office hours and you swore that you heard the last of your coworkers’ chatter out the door a few hours ago, but you must have been mistaken.

“yeah.” you gave him a grim smile, “some stupid report i was told to do today.”

“ouch,” he winced, closing his laptop. jake then studied your expression, picking up on how exhausted you looked. “tell you what.” he stood up and began slipping items into his backpack, “what if we went home together? maybe i could grab you something on the way back to make up for earlier.”

you looked up from your screen to see a cheeky smile on his lips. the offer did seem tempting, but you were ways away from actually completing the report. “oh that really isn’t necessary...” you threw him a small smile as you waved a hand rather dismissively, “i might be here for a long while, and i wouldn’t want to hold you back from going home.”

“i insist, (y/n).” jake zipped up his backpack after tossing in a file, “i wouldn’t mind waiting since i have nothing due tomorrow.” he then propped an elbow up on the divider, leaning on it as he carefully took note of the obvious strain on your eyes as well as how you had a slight pout on your lips when you were focused, “and besides... you kinda look like you could use some company.”

a small hum was heard from your mouth until you finally sighed in defeat; he definitely wasn’t wrong about company. “if you say so, then.” you stretched your arms, turning away from your screen, “maybe having you around will make me work faster?”

“how so?”

“you know how sometimes kids won’t work on their homework unless there’s an adult cowering over them like a hawk? yeah, that.” 

jake brought a hand to his mouth in an attempt to stifle a laugh, which ended in him snorting instead. you could feel a smile creep up your lips.

-

the trip home was the most fun you’ve had in months. it didn’t occur to you that jake would be such an avid chatterbox, but you were sorely mistaken. he always had a conversation topic up his sleeve, whether it was about daily adult struggles to his childhood back in australia. you also noticed how he absolutely could not shut up about his beloved dog, layla; it’s a wonder how he had an entire album filled with hundreds of her pictures on his phone. slowly but surely, you also began juggling the conversation; it was as if you had reverted to your bright, happy self pre-breakup. talking with him really felt like reuniting with a long-lost friend, and it was only a matter of minutes until you had reached your apartment's front door.

jake had wanted to use your bathroom for a bit, but it ended with you suggesting for him to stay for dinner which consisted of microwaved pizza and sweet tea. you placed the pizza on the coffee table in front of the tv, then starting up the series you were bingeing on the other night.

“is that designated survivor?” jake sat on your sofa before grabbing a slice of pizza from the plate.

“mhm,” you replied, mouth stuffed. swallowing first, you then replied to him, “the synopsis made me curious.”

your remark was met with silence as you saw jake’s gazed fixed intently upon the screen. it wouldn’t have occurred to you that you’d be having a coworker (who was insanely attractive, nonetheless) over for dinner, but it didn’t bother you at all when jake made offhand comments about the characters and scenes of the series. it also occurred to you quite late that you hadn’t gotten napkins out for the both of you.

“hold on, lemme grab something.” you stood up and went towards your cabinets in search for napkins. jake’s attention broke from the screen to follow your figure before his gaze momentarily landed on a photo frame by the side of your sofa. it was a picture of you and your ex-boyfriend, with his arm wrapped around you as you both smiled brightly for the camera.

“i didn’t know you had a boyfriend?” the man teased as he saw you walk back towards him, napkins in hand. your expression dropped when you realized that throughout the time you’ve been trying to mend your broken heart, you had forgotten to put away that photo.

“we broke up.”

guilt flashed across jake’s face as he realized he had overstepped. “oh wow, i’m sorry... i shouldn’t have brought that up.”

“it’s fine. i guess i must’ve forgotten to put that away.” you smiled at him and placed the napkins on the table before flipping the frame down. taking a seat, you sighed as you tried to focus on the show playing in front of you; you could feel bits of dread wallow in the bottom of your stomach.

there was a moment of awkward pause as neither of you knew what to say. just as you were about to ask jake to leave since you could feel dread clawing at your insides, he suddenly spoke up, “you’re... really strong, though.”

turning to face him, you stared at him quizzically, “really?”

“yeah.” jake could feel your eyes on him, “i mean, if it weren’t for me finding out, i would’ve never guessed that you were going through that.” he grabbed another piece of pizza before meeting your gaze, “you’re a great person, (y/n). i think you should know that. and if you’d need someone to talk to about him... although i don’t really know the guy, i’m all ears.”

the way he gave you a soft smile at the end made your heart slightly flutter. maybe it was because there was this very charming man consoling you on your last breakup, but it was more on the fact that you knew someone had your back in your times of healing. “thanks, jake.” you smiled back, feeling your heart lighten. “i appreciate it. a lot.”

jake felt his heart flip at the sight of your smile. it wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen you smile the entire day; it was a different kind as he could see some weight visibly lifted from you. you were pretty cute when you smiled, the way your eyes crinkled at the sides when you did, and he wondered how he hadn’t realized that sooner.

“uh... jake?” you waved a hand in front of his face to break him away from his stare. he quickly snapped out of his reverie, ears tinting a shade of pink.

“oh, yeah, sorry about that...” he murmured nervously, scratching the back of his head, “guess i got a bit distracted there?”

“i noticed.” you giggled in response, turning your attention back towards the tv. you saw how he stared at you after you spoke, eyes lost in a dream-like trance, and you felt your heart go fuzzy.

perhaps you were still healing, and you might need a little more time before jumping into something new. but rest assured, you knew that jake would be waiting on the other side no matter what.

[troubatrain]

four times matthew was a fuckboy + one time he wasn’t

a/n: a repost from my old blog!

I.

You didn’t hate Matthew Tkachuk. Hate is a strong word and you were too polite to hate anyone. But you definitely weren’t keen on the new company your friend had been keeping since she started seeing Matthew’s teammate, Noah. You were just different. You liked safety and rules, and Matthew put most of his energy into breaking every rule possible. He was a rat, and he didn’t give a damn who knew. You were a romantic, and you’d watch Matthew take a different girl home frequently, and you could only imagine what he was like on the road. He was a straight up fuckboy, and you’d just prefer to be as far away from him as possible. Besides the strong differences between each other, you really didn’t hate him - until, maybe, right now.

“I would never date Y/N,” Matthew scoffs at your best friend, Hannah, “She’s got a stick up her ass, all the time.” “I don’t have a stick up my ass Matthew,” You bark back, “You’re just a shitty person, and I don’t want to date you either.”

“Why? Am I not your type?” Matthew snarks back, “I’m everyone’s type.”

“No Matthew, egotistical professional athletes who don’t know anything besides hit and skate aren’t my type,” You say, “Hold an intellectual conversation with anyone and I’ll be impressed.”

“You know what, forget I mentioned it,” Hannah tries to interfere, but the way Matthew’s blue eyes were narrowed at you, his nostrils flaring out just a little bit meant it was too late and you were well on your way to spending the rest of the night arguing with Matthew.

“I don’t need to hold bullshit intellectual conversations to get laid Y/N,” Matthew grumbles, “I’m sure that’s only what terrible guys you probably date do.”

“I don’t date terrible guys,” You defend, but deep down, he was actually right about that. You were nearing the end of six months of being single since your last relationship ended and dating wasn’t going - well.

“Oh, I forgot, you probably only date boring guys,” Matthew huffs, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find someone who isn’t boring.”

Matthew stomps away, looking back to give you one more smirk that made your skin crawl. You couldn’t stand his smug smile, or the fact that he constantly gave you grief for being a good person. Or the time he accused  you of thinking you were better than everyone because you were smarter than them. 

“I can’t believe there was a point in my life where I thought you guys could be friends,” Noah says, shaking his head at the verbal battle you and Matthew just had, “I thought I could set you guys up - to date.”

“Why do you all think that?” You ask, looking at your friend and her boyfriend with actual concern.

“I don’t know, you’re sweet and nice and he’s not,” Noah shrugs, “It’s kind of cute.”

“Yeah, like imagine if you were the one to tame him,” Hannah says, wrapping her arm around her boyfriend's bicep while he pressed a kiss to her head - a reminder that you didn’t have that. Your eyes move to Matthew at the bar, while a girl was under his arm in less than five minutes.

“I don’t think anyone’s taming that monster,” You say, pointing to the man in question.

II.

When the weekend finally came around, you found yourself in the same situation you were in the week before. Matthew gave you daggers across the table while Noah and Hannah tried to convince the two of you to put your differences aside and be friends. Except, you didn’t want to be friends with Matthew, because you knew exactly how he treated his “friends”. In the past week alone, you’d watched him while he escaped a morning after with someone who happened to live in your building. You had the worst morning of your life when you stepped on the elevator only to meet with the face of the devil himself. You halted, stepping into the elevator and shaking your head at Matthew - asking him if he was leaving or your worst nightmare of him moving into your building was happening. He told you he was escaping from a booty call, his words not yours, and then joked about moving in just to bother you. You started bickering in the elevator, and then it made you late for work. That snowballed into missing an important meeting and you were cursing Matthew internally for the rest of the day.

“I just don’t understand why you both keep pushing this,” you shout, gesturing between Matthew and yourself, “We are not friends.”

“Yeah, she’s right,” Matthew agrees, for the first time since you’d been introduced to each other.

“Why is that the only thing you’ve ever agreed on?” Hannah asks, looking sincerely concerned at the two of you.

“Because his opinions on everything else are terrible,” You say, walking over to the bar to go get yourself a drink. You can feel a large presence behind you and you turn around to be met with Matthew’s smug smile again, “You can’t just leave me alone.”

“I’m getting another drink, not everything is about you,” Matthew remarks, flagging down the bartender far easier than you could have. He orders you both a drink, and you decide to just take it - too tired to argue. While you were waiting you scanned the bar, only to spot your ex boyfriend across the bar.

“Fuck,” you mutter, grabbing Matthew’s attention.

“God what did I do now?” Matthew groans, and then he follows your eyes, “Do you know that guy?”

“Uh, yeah, he’s my ex,” You say, dropping your drink, “Can you tell Hannah I left.”

“Wait no-,” Matthew says, grabbing your arm and pulling you closer to him, “I’m going to leave after this, I’ll take an Uber with you.”

“Are you going to drop me off then go hook up with whoever lives in my building?” You ask, crossing your arms and looking at him.

“I’m going to get you home safely and whether or not I leave the building is none of your business,” Matthew argues back, his eyes flickering up to look behind you and a protective arm snakes around your waist.

“Is that Y/N?” You hear your ex’s familiar voice, and suddenly Matthew’s arm made more sense.

“Oh, Alex, hi,” You say, trying to ignore the burning sensation you felt under Matthew’s touch, but your anxiety about seeing your ex disappeared almost immediately, like with Matthew there nothing could hurt you.

“How are you?” Alex asks, “Is this your boyfriend? I didn’t think you’d move on after me.”

“Yeah,” Matthew cuts you off before you could deny it, “We were just heading out, you know we’ve got plans for the night.”

Matthew gave Alex a wink and a look that said not to fuck with him and grabbed your hand, pulling you out the bar. A part of you was pissed, like he’d just told your ex boyfriend that not only were you dating you were leaving your night out early to fuck. But a part you didn’t care about it, Alex was the worst, and even in that second he reminded you why you broke up in the first place, because he never stopped talking down to you.

“I can’t believe you dated someone who talks to you like that,” Matthew says, pulling out his phone to call an Uber, “Your taste in men is terrible.”

“Well he thinks I’m dating you, so my taste is terrible,” You say, sliding into the car once Matthew opens the door for you.

Matthew slides into the other side of the car, getting your Uber driving and asking him how his night is before turning to you, “Do you really think I’m that awful?”

Okay, yes, it was sweet that he protected you. Yes, it felt nice to have his arm around your waist. Yes, it was great to have your ex think you’re currently seeing a member of the Flames. Yes, it was nice that he’s taking you home. And yes, the way he spoke to the Uber driver when you got in was actually more polite than you assumed he was to strangers. But, none of that meant he was a decent human being - at least not to you.

“I mean you’ve never given me a reason to think otherwise,” You say, shrugging.

“I’ll give you a reason,” You heard him mutter, but his face said he didn’t want to talk about it, so you let it go until you rode up the elevator to your floor in silence.

“Hey Matthew,” You say, voice small, “Thanks for getting me home, and for before, I owe you one.”

“I don’t think you want to be indebted to me,” Matthew says, his signature smirk gracing his face.

“One favor, nothing sexual,” You wave your finger at him while the elevator closes, sending him to whoever he was meeting on a floor above you.

III. 

You were swearing off men. That was it. You were sitting in a restaurant in the city, in a dress that made you look straight up hot, across from someone who made Matthew look like a saint. Paul was a friend of one of your coworkers, who raved about her friend who was intelligent and kind. Intelligent, yes definitely. But kind? At the moment that seemed far fetched. He’d spent the entire dinner talking about himself, and when you finally got to talk about yourself, he was just condescending and rude. You’d suffered through dinner, declining his invitation home. You heard his hollers about much of a tease and how uptight you were. You walked home, on a mission to get home and pretend this date never happened. Then you’d pass a bar you’d been to with Hannah a few times and decide to stop in - in need of a well deserved drink.

“There’s no way you should be here alone, dressed like that,” You can hear a familiar voice behind you and you turn around to meet Matthew’s face who was currently checking out your ass while you leaned against the bar. 

“You’re not in charge of me,” You bark back, sipping on the drink you’d gotten, “What are you doing here?”

“I was supposed to meet Noah out for a drink, but he canceled on me when I walked in,” Matthew says, “Why are you here?”

“I was on a date,” You frown.

You really, really, really, didn’t want to admit to Matthew that you’d had a bad date. You were pretty sure he got laid more than anyone you knew and there was no way he wasn’t going to make fun of you for having a terrible date.

“Was it that bad?” Matthew asks, “Or are your standards just way too high?”

“There’s nothing wrong with having standards for yourself, you should try it sometime,” You defend, “But, he spent the entire date talking about himself.”

You bite your lip, looking at Matthew in front of you. Sometimes, when the light caught him just right and he wasn’t being a total douche you could be reminded why he was such a fuckboy in the first place, he was cute as hell. You hated how attracted you were to him sometimes, especially after the way he had protected you from Alex the other night. He didn’t know why you didn’t want to see him, but he was there regardless.

“You should stay,” You declare, biting your lip and looking at Matthew.

You swore there was a twinkle in his eye, he grabbed himself a drink and hopped onto a barstool while you sat next to him. It started with small talk, you confessing that you were sure Hannah made Noah stay in because she told you he wasn’t spending enough time with her. To which Matthew said that was the exact reason he didn’t do relationships. Then you moved to bickering about how you loved the idea of love and the fact that Matthew turned himself off to it actually made you sad.

“You just need to see it from my perspective,” Matthew tries to explain, “No one sees past all of this NHL bullshit anyways, so, I’m just taking advantage of it. Admit it, you thought I was a dick when before you met me?”

“You are a dick,” You joke, “But yes, I may have passed judgement, that doesn’t mean everyone else thinks that.”

“Trust me, they do,” Matthew takes a sip of his beer, “Girls, fans, even my family sometimes, they just can’t see past the whole rat thing.”

You bite your tongue from telling him that if he stopped playing like a rat, people probably wouldn’t say that. Mainly because he was playing in the NHL and I’m sure your opinion on his play didn’t matter much. But also because whatever he was telling you sounded like something he didn’t talk about very much, it intrigued you. You don’t talk much about it further, a couple of people who were fans coming over and insisting you took shots with them. A few rounds of drinks later, you were drunk and Matthew’s hand had found a permanent place on your lower back.

“Ready to go?” Matthew asks, a chill running up your spine when he whispered in your ear.

Maybe you were lonely. Maybe you’d had too much to drink. Maybe you’d found the one part vulnerable part of Matthew and it made you soft. But something possessed to look him in the eyes and demand he took you home. And after asking you four times if you were sure, you were on your way to Matthew’s apartment with him, his lips on yours.

IV.

You slipped out of Matthew’s apartment after that night long before he woke up. Your walk of shame took you back to your apartment and that was that. You’d only seen Matthew once since, and while you were sitting next to Hannah in the stands at the Saddledome, he’d sent you over a wink and you thanked your lucky stars that Hannah wasn’t paying attention. You knew Matthew wasn’t going to let your moment of weakness be forgotten, you just hoped he didn’t embarrass you. You shook your head at the thought, which had been taking up your brain for most of the week. Your thoughts were broken by a heavy knock on the door, and you opened to reveal the person who’d been taking up most of your thoughts.

“What are you doing here?”  You ask, but you knew the answer was whichever one of his girlfriends, and you meant it to be plural, lived in your building.

“I was on my way to see someone but I thought I’d stop by,” Matthew smirks at you, “I have a favor to cash in.”

“I told you nothing sexual,” You counter back, despite the fact that you’d been under just a few nights ago.

“As much as I want to relive the events of the other night,” Matthew says, looking your body up and down, “I need an actual favor.”

“What?” You ask, crossing your arms.

“I need you to be my date to this event the Flames are doing,” Matthew sighs, as if he really didn’t want to ask.

“I’m sure there’s a line of girls who want to do that,” You say, wondering why Matthew needs you to go.

“I need to bring someone I can trust not to embarass me,” Matthew grumbles, “You’re smart, and you can hold a conversation with a bunch of our front office guys.”

“You want me to go and make you good?” You ask, trying to get exactly what he was asking you to do.

“Yes,” Matthew says, “I need you to make me look good. Can you do it?”

You should have said no. You should have said no. But, you said yes. You knew it was a bad idea, but the bright smile that graced Matthew’s face when you said yes almost made you forget that he was headed up to a booty call when he left your apartment. Something you realized he could only get away with.

--

Matthew wasn’t a bad date. He’d gotten to your apartment on time. Fed you with way too many compliments while his hand was rested on your thigh on the ride to the hotel ballroom the gala was at. Now, his hand had found its place on your back, while you wooed his coach into thinking Matthew was a decent human being. Really you should have paid overtime for how good you were doing. You’d met the entire Flames front office, charming each of them into thinking their player wasn’t sleeping around when he most definitely was.

You finally pull away from the conversation, latching on Hannah once she was finally in reach.

“You’re working like doubletime,” Hannah jokes, “How’d he convince you to do this?”

“He didn’t tell you what happened?” You ask, assuming his big mouth spilled the beans to Noah, at the very least.

“He never said anything,” Noah shrugs.

“I ran into my ex, and he pretended to be my boyfriend so he’d go away,” You admit, “Then he took me home and I told him I owe him one.”

“See? I knew he wasn’t all bad,” Hannah muses. You thought about what Matthew had said that night you slept together, about how people had presumptions about him he could never change so it didn’t matter. You’d actually thought about it frequently since, and it really made your heart ache for him. It bothered him, it had to.

“He’s not all bad,” You admit, outloud, really just so you could convince Hannah not to pass judgement on him without telling her what he’d told you.

“Hey, we can head out if you want?” Matthew asks, coming behind you. You nod, excited to be going home at a decent hour after a long week of work.

You were silent for the entire car ride home, your eyes constantly on Matthew for the entire ride.

“Would you stop staring at me?” Matthew asks, his eyes not leaving the road, but somehow his hand found your thigh, giving it a squeeze.

“Do you think you’re a bad person?” You ask, it was something you couldn’t stop thinking about. You didn’t understand Matthew, you didn’t think anyone actually did, but you wanted to figure him out so badly.

“Is this about what I said the other night? It wasn’t that deep Y/N,” Matthew sighs, “I’m not that deep.”

“Do you think that or have you been told that?” You ask, and you knew you were getting somewhere because you could feel his hand tense up.

“Are you always this annoying?” Matthew deflects.

“No,” You sigh, “It’s just, Hannah said something about you not being all bad and it bothered me.”

“A little criticism isn’t going to hurt me,” Matthew says, throwing his car into park so he could walk you to your door, “I’m not really a good guy either.”

You pout, leaning against the elevator. You were close to getting him to just open to you. His walls were tall and they were definitely thick but you might have been slowly chipping away at him.

“Thank you for doing this tonight, it meant a lot to me,” Matthew says, his hand rubbing the back of his neck while you stood in your doorway. A part you wanted to pull him inside by his collar and have your way with him, but you knew once was one thing but twice was going to be another. You bite your lip, debating it for a second, “Thinking about inviting me inside.”

“How did you-?” You start to ask before Matthew immediately cuts you off.

“You’re practically eye-fucking me,” Matthew jokes, “You won’t invite me inside though, because you know if you sleep with me twice you won’t be able to stop.”

You jaw drops, because he was right, “That’s hardly true.”

“I can read you Y/N, you’re like an open book,” Matthew smirks, “For the record, I don’t know if I’d be able to shake you either if we did this again.”

With that sentiment Matthew was headed down the hallway, turning just one more time before he hit the elevator button.

“Matthew?” You call out, “Are you going up or down?”

The question was burning. You just wanted to know why he was frequenting your building. Whoever was up there and why she could get Matthew to keep coming back. You were a little jealous, that he’d rejected you to go see her.

“That’s none of your business,” Matthew muses, giving you a wink and stepping into the elevator.

You were annoyed, and you thought about walking back outside to see if Matthew’s car was still there. That would make you a crazy person so you laid in bed while it ate you alive. That was, until you’d received a text from Matthew of his bedroom, and a sly comment about how you might have recognized his place. While it was smug and irritating, it did make you happy that he was home and he was alone.

plus one

You felt like an idiot. You stood at the bar next to Hannah, listening to her rant and rave about something Noah did while you watched Matthew flirt with some girl by the bar. You didn’t know why you thought maybe he could turn over a new leaf. That maybe you were getting somewhere with him. But, everything went out the window the second your eyes were on him. You decided he was dead to you, he had to be. You excuse yourself from Hannah, giving Matthew one more look before stomping out of the bar. You could hear his shouts behind you while you walked down the street, your apartment too far to walk but if you stopped you’d be forced to speak to him.

“Y/N! Where are you even going?” Matthew finally catches up to you, and you curse your shorter legs for stopping you from outrunning him.

“Away from you,” You say, “You can go back to your little friend, that’s your life Matthew, I get that now.”

“Come back to my place, I need to talk to you,” Matthew pleads, and you knew you were only a block away from his place. You sigh, nodding and following him down the street.

Matthew’s apartment felt different than it did the night you’d slept together. You were tossing off your clothes in a drunken haze and you never realized how empty his place felt. It was cold, and in some serious need a curtain and throw pillow. It was a metaphor for the current state of it’s resident. 

“Okay talk,” You cross your arms, “Explain to me how you do this to every girl, make them think there’s a part of you that’s decent to only be an asshole to them in the end.”

“I’ve never told anyone what I told you,” Matthew confesses, “I thought, maybe, you’d be into me. Then I realized if you were, I was only going to hurt you. You don’t deserve that, so if I push you away, you’ll be happy.”

“Clearly, I’m not happy,” You say, pointing to the frown that was very present on your face, “Listen, I like you, I don’t know why or how you crawled into my life but I want to be with you - the real you. I want that vulnerable man that told me he thought everyone judged him. I want you to prove to me you are that man.”

“I can do that,” Matthew nods, his hands resting on your cheeks. He captures your lips in his for the most tender kiss you’d been given. It was full of love, and full of feeling.

“I want you to prove it,” You say when you finally pull away, your forehead resting on his.

[honey-dewey]

That Time Marcus Almost Threw Hands With a Reporter

Pairing: Marcus Moreno/Male Reader

Word Count: 1,127

Warnings: Homophobia

Marcus expected many things upon bringing his fiancé to a joint interview, but the interviewer being a homophobic piece of garbage was not one of them. Let’s see how he reacts, shall we?

“Please?” 

You sighed, looking down at the half kneaded bread dough on the kitchen counter. Marcus had a hero interview on Monday and he’d been begging for you to join him. As a fellow Heroic and his fiancé of a year, you two would have to announce the wedding publicly eventually, but the right moment still hadn’t come up. “And if I do agree to go on with you?” You asked, finally giving in. 

Marcus perked up, his face filling with eagerness. “I’ll take you to that beautiful place you love for a weekend. The one up in the mountains.” 

“Y’know I love it so much because the cell reception is absolute garbage and no one can contact you, right?” You asked, smiling and continuing to knead the dough. “I’ll consider it. But don’t get your hopes up.” 

“Yes!” Marcus said happily, coming around the island and wrapping you in a bear hug. “I love you.” 

You laughed, feeling him press sloppy kisses into your neck and lift your feet off the floor. “Marcus! Marcus! I’m trying to bake!” 

Marcus put you down, kissed you once more, and headed off to take a call before dinner. 

That night, at dinner, you kicked Marcus’s ankle under the table. “I considered it.” 

“Hm?” Marcus hummed, nudging Missy and gesturing to the broccoli on the table. “Eat some.” 

Missy groaned, but did as asked. 

“Marcus,” you said, redirecting his attention back to you. “I’ll go with you on Monday.” 

Marcus froze, his fork clattering out of his hand and to the floor, spilling food everywhere. “Really?” 

“Yeah.” 

Immediately, Marcus lit up, smiling wide and pulling out his phone. “I’ll tell the others!” He said, and Missy almost pointed out that he wasn’t supposed to have his phone out at the table, but you stopped her. 

“Let him be happy,” you said softly, watching Marcus joyously text his coworkers. “And can you grab a paper towel please?” 

On Monday, you and Marcus were getting ready together at the interview site, you adjusting Marcus’s bow tie as he actively complained that he couldn’t wear his leather jacket. 

“It goes with everything though!” He pointed out, adjusting his shirt cuffs and pouting at you. “Why can’t I wear it?” 

“Because this is a formal interview,” you said, grabbing your own tie and putting it on. “Should I wear my ring?” 

Marcus nodded, taking his own engagement ring off its usual necklace and sliding it on his finger. He kissed the ring that remained on the necklace, setting his old wedding band back around his neck. 

You slid your own ring on, smiling at Marcus. “Shall we?” 

Marcus laughed, readjusting your shirt collar. “We shall.” 

You two walked out, hand in hand. The interview was done live, which was an odd experience, but you didn’t mind. 

“Marcus!” The interviewer said as you two sat down on a couch set up on a stage. “It’s been too long! Rumor has it you were in retirement?” 

“For a bit,” Marcus said, smiling politely. “But then we were attacked by aliens and I just never got the chance to retire again. Plus, I met Stitch and he sort of became my partner in heroics. I’d have felt terrible leaving him to deal with Miracle Guy all day long.” 

The interviewer laughed, turning to you. “And you’re something of a small legend amongst the fans. Almost unheard of until you rose to fame overnight with those incredible healing powers. It seems like yesterday that the world was introduced to you. What an achievement.” 

“Thank you!” You said, leaning a bit closer to Marcus. “I do prefer to leave the events and the interviews to Marcus though. Public events were never my thing. He’s just got that certain air for them.” 

The interview went smoothly right up until the end, when the interviewer asked you a question about how you met the Heroics. 

“Through my boyfriend at the time, actually,” you responded. “He worked there as a security guard, and he convinced me to reach out to them and show them what I could do. After they saw it online, I had an interview with Marcus, a short trial run in the field, and the rest is history.” 

The interviewer’s face scrunched. “Your boyfriend?” 

“Yeah.” You shrugged, twisting your ring. “We aren’t together anymore, though. He’s married now.” 

“Hopefully to a woman.” 

You froze. “I’m sorry?” 

“It’s unnatural for men to fall in love with men,” the interviewer said, gesturing loosely. “God forbids it.” 

“Marcus,” you said under your breath, seeing his fists ball out of the corner of your eye. “Don’t.” 

Marcus reached over your lap and grabbed your hands. “I think you’ll find you’re talking to the wrong people about this,” he said tightly. 

The interviewer eyed your locked hands. “You two aren’t.” 

“Engaged. Set to marry in June.” 

Immediately, the interviewer shook her head. “But what about your daughter? She needs a mother and a father!” 

Marcus stood up, and you grabbed his elbow. “Marcus.” 

His jaw tightened, the fury unmistakable in his eyes. You gripped his arm tighter, hoping to avoid a fight. “Marcus.” 

He turned to you. “We need to leave.” 

Two days later, you were curled up on the couch, Marcus reading a book and you cuddled up beside him scrolling aimlessly through Instagram. Heroics had gotten understandably pissed when you and Marcus had stormed off at the interview, but they’d understood, so you two were merely suspended from active duty for a week. 

“Holy shit,” you mumbled, seeing yet another post about your interview. “Marcus, hon, look at this.” 

Marcus looked up, adjusting his glasses and reading your phone. 

“Huh.” He put his book down, squinting closely at the phone screen. “She was fired?” 

“Of course,” you said, taking your phone back and continuing to scroll. “People are entirely backing us up. It’s a bit surreal. We’ve gotten so much support and so many well wishes for the wedding.” You smiled, liking a post that gushed over how beautiful your engagement rings were. 

Marcus sighed. “I still wish it hadn’t happened on live TV.” 

“I’m still mad that you almost hit her.” 

“She insulted you!” Marcus insisted, looking over your shoulder at another post, this time about how much the poster loved how quickly Marcus came to your defense. “I wasn’t about to leave your honor undefended.” 

You scoffed, leaning over and kissing Marcus’s nose. “Mhm. Sure thing, Prince Charming. I think I can defend my own honor, hm?” 

Marcus smiled, drawing you closer for a proper kiss. “So, soon to be Mr. Moreno, do you think we should publicly announce the wedding yet?” 

You laughed. “Nah,” you decided happily, curling back up in Marcus’s lap. “Let’s wait a little while longer.”

[sunflowerheartsandstarryskies]

Ain’t Family Great? ~ Lucifer Morningstar x  GenderNeutral!Reader

Summary: You have come from a very religious household, and they don’t take too kindly when they heard that you are dating someone literally named the devil.

Author’s Note: I literally got this idea from seeing a dialogue prompt on Pinterest, and it just spiraled out of control. 

Trigger Warning: Curse words, some innuendos, biblical literalism, religious talk (It is Lucifer)

You were a friend and coworker of Chloe Decker, you mostly worked in the background doing research and gathering the data on the criminals and suspects of the cases your unit was working on. That is how you met Lucifer, Chloe asked you to gather information on two main suspects on a case she was working on and Lucifer was lingering on in the background.

 When you gave Chloe the information you gathered and she left, Lucifer piped up, “What’s your name? I haven’t seen you before” “That’s because I mostly work on research stuff for cases, so I do a lot of the office work and investigative work that requires me to be in a chair for the whole day. My name’s (Y/N), Chloe’s mentioned you before,” you replied with a small smile. “Ah I hope not all of them are terrible, even if I am the Devil I like to think I have a certain amount of charm,” he said with a smirk.

That’s when you first heard him call himself the devil, and if you were honest with yourself you were always curious about his name: Lucifer Morningstar. 

You grew up in an extremely religious household, which at times felt like you were suffocating from the relentless biblical literalism that was upheld in your house. You were always curious about the Devil in the biblical stories and you always found the quote by Mark Twain interesting if read in a certain context otherwise it’ll sound like an angsty emo kid trying to be philosophical. 

There was an instance where you were on a case with Chloe and Lucifer, and the killer had said, “Oh, you know that phrase? The devil made me do it? It felt like that” 

You let out a light snort at that as you immediately responded, “The devil didn’t make you do anything. Your poor impulse control and anger management, and might I add quite a horrid spectacle of internet history could certainly be a bad combination to make you do something.”

After the case, Lucifer was very curious about your statement towards the killer as you guys headed to a cafe to get some lunch together, he asks, “Why were you so against the man using that phrase? I mean I hate it because it is so demeaning, I’ve got better things to do.”

 You shrugged as you sipped your beverage and responded, “I don’t know, maybe it’s partly because of my very religious family which I have realized how much bullshit I was forced to listen to since I was born, so I guess I grew to have sympathy for the devil.” “Oh really?” Lucifer’s small smile grew to a smirk as he leaned forward, Chloe swatted him to move back.

“Not you. I don’t know you, but one of my favorite quotes about the devil is from Mark Twain,”  you commented. “I don’t think I have,” he continued to have that smirk on his face. He was very handsome but he was so goddamn annoying, you thought. “Well, it goes: ‘Who, in eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner that needed it most?’ Like, there’s this whole thing about redemption in the Bible and catholicism but does the Devil ever get the chance to get his redemption? No, I think God wanted a scapegoat and he got it from a rebel,” you ranted. 

Lucifer looked shocked for a moment but gathered his posture and said, “Well, you thought about this quite a bit. I assume because of your family?” You just shrugged at first, took a sip from your drink, then nodded. “Their family is very strict, I thought my family was weird but they got me beat, ” Chloe informed him. 

“They stopped talking to me, they didn’t think that I was enough for them. It hurt at first but y’know as time moves on I figured that I have better things to do than wallow in my past, so I realized I needed help so I got therapy and now I’m here,” you surmised. “Family is a wonderful thing, isn’t it? Filling us with traumas and issues since we were created,” Lucifer commented.

                                                                                                                             Time has passed between that first case with Lucifer and Chloe, now whenever they needed an extra pair of eyes they’d call on you to help with them. It was an interesting dynamic that you and Lucifer had developed over the weeks that you were going with them on cases. You were able to talk about literally anything with Lucifer, he made you feel comfortable which is odd since his persistence on him calling himself the Devil. By him associating himself with it, you thought he was supposed to be like an actual bad guy, but gauging his reaction to your conversation about your first case with them, you made a realization that because of his name people treat like the actual devil. 

One day, you went through your mail in the apartment lobby and spotted a letter that was from your hometown, and another one with the return address being your parents’ house. ‘The hell is this?’ you thought. 

When you opened the first one you found a wedding invitation that your cousin was inviting you to, you were actually pretty close with this cousin, she was really chill and she understands the conservative and religious household you used to live in. The second one was your parents’ basically condemning you from being at your cousin’s wedding, and that pissed you off. You were a grown adult, you would be damned if you’d let your parents try to control you anymore. 

You decided to go out to LUX, because if there is one person who understands controlling parents it was Lucifer and maybe he’d be able to give you the extra courage you need to stand up to your parents. You had on your favorite party outfit, and when you entered the club you could feel the thrum of energy and the bass of the music go straight to your heart. As you walked to the bar you spotted Maze whom you’ve met before when you came here out of Lucifer’s request, you waved her over.

 “What can I get for you?” She asked. “I’m sure you know what’s the best drink here, so I’ll leave that to you,” you said. You turned around to just watch the crowd and started to get a little nervous about the idea of going back to your hometown for the wedding, you love your cousin but hate your parents. So, you were at a bit of a crossroads with this. While you were watching the crowd you saw Lucifer come up to you with a big grin on his face. 

“Well, hello (Y/N) this is a surprise. What brings you here?” Lucifer beamed.

 “I actually came here to see you, to ask for advice,” you replied. 

“A horrible decision really,” he smirked.

“My cousin invited me to her wedding but my parents know and basically condemned me from going to the wedding, and I’m unsure of whether to just stay here in L.A. or to go to the wedding and just be resilient against what my parents’ might say to me,” you said crossing your arms and rubbing them back and forth. 

“Well, that sounds like quite a situation you got yourself in”

“I know, that’s why I am asking what I should do?”

“You know I’m all about that rebellion against parental figures, so I say go to the wedding and have a good time, your parents be damned. In fact, I would never say no to a party, so I could come up with you,” he added with a wink.

“Would you like to be my plus one? But please don’t start anything with my parents,” you begged him.

“I thought you’d never ask, and I can’t promise you that,” he smirked.

                                                                                                                            After, that conversation both of you got ready for travelling out to your hometown and you made sure to bring the outfits that gave you the most confidence in yourself because you knew that you’d need that. 

You admitted to yourself a while ago that you had a crush on Lucifer, he was hot as hell, always polite with you, and treated you with genuine interest and respect.  You also made a promise to not let your feelings get caught in the middle of your mission. You are going to have a good time at this wedding, congratulate your cousin and just have a good time. 

                                                                                                                            Both of you made it one piece to the hotel that Lucifer somehow booked without your knowledge, because you swore you got a cheap motel room but as you tried to convince Lucifer to let you go to your motel room, he just said, “Are you crazy? I’m the devil for a reason, darling, I got connections everywhere and plus this place is much more spacious. We don’t need to sleep in the same bed if that’s what’s making you uncomfortable.”

“I just thought you would probably be looking for hookups or something and would want your own hotel room for that stuff,” you sputtered. 

“Well if that comes to it, I’ll go to their room because I wanted to give you the comfiest place to go back to because I know how family can be,” Lucifer answered. 

“That’s really nice of you, y’know for someone insisting he’s the devil you can be really sweet.”

The hotel room was really nice, it had two bedrooms and a large tv screen in front of the dining area. As time moved on and you guys decided to decompress and relax on one bed and decided to just mindlessly watch the tv. You fell asleep and Lucifer watched you for a moment as he realized you were asleep, he put you under the covers and fell asleep next to you.

The next day you woke up to the sunlight hitting your eyes, you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and as you took a deep breath in you smelled something delicious. You turned around and saw Lucifer cooking breakfast with his shirt half undone and his hair all curled up. 

“Good morning (Y/N), how did you sleep?” Lucifer asked.

“Pretty good, actually,” you answered with a yawn still trying to wake up.

As you both ate breakfast in relative comfortable silence, you looked at your phone and noticed the time. “Shit, we should get ready to go to the church and the party afterwards,” you told him as you got up and went to your suitcase to gather your things.

After what seems like hours to both of you, you managed to get out of the hotel room and to the church. Lucifer dropped you off in front of the church as he wanted to find a parking space for his car. As you waited in front of the church you noticed your parents walking to the church and felt your stomach churn as they were inching closer to you. Your mom looked furious and it was like her whole head was on fire how red it was. Your dad had a more quiet anger to him but you saw the clenched fists and the tightened jaw on him. You put out a little prayer to whoever to get Lucifer faster to you. 

“What are you doing here? I thought we told you to not come here,” your mother sneered.

“The last time I checked I am a grown adult and (Y/C/N) invited me to their wedding,” you stated. 

“Listen here you bitch, you are a disgrace to this family and that is why we didn’t want you here,” your mother hissed.

Before you could get another word in you heard Lucifer, “Oh there you are, love, I was looking for you.” He kissed the side of your head as he wrapped a hand around your waist and looked at your parents as he continued, “You must be (Y/N)’s parents, I’m her boyfriend, a pleasure to meet you.”

You looked at him a bit surprised and your parents’ faces were that of a gulping goldfish. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Lucifer. Lucifer Morningstar,” he stated.

“Like the devil?” your father said with apprehension in his voice, he made your mom step back behind him. 

“Oh, I’m not as bad as the books say, you know,” Lucifer spoke with a wink.

“Quiet, evil one,”  your dad sneered.

“Oooh, name-calling so fearsome, “ Lucifer scoffed. He looked towards you as you were just staring at the three of them. “C’mon love, we’ve got a wedding to go to, can’t be late.”

                                                                                                                            After that encounter the wedding reception went quite beautifully, you may or may not have teared up hearing your cousin and their spouse recite their vows. When you both went to the after-party you both stayed away from your parents and they seemed to have lost interest after that conversation earlier. 

A slow dance came on while you were at the bar getting a drink when Lucifer appeared next and offered you his hand. You just raised an eyebrow at him in response and just said, “I thought you weren’t the type for slow dancing?” “Only with the right partner I find it enjoyable,” he smirked with a wink. 

You hit him on the chest playfully and replied, “How do you know I’d be the right partner?” you asked. “Ooh I’d figure you’d be good at from the first day I saw you” he quipped. “Okay show me your moves, then,” you replied, taking his hand and walking to the dance floor.

He led most of the dances, keeping you close to his chest with his hand on your back. It was nice, the rhythm of his heartbeat in your ear was very soothing as well as him occasionally humming with the song if he knew, which more often than not he did. 

You looked at him and you both started to stare at each other’s eyes. You felt your eyes flutter between his eyes and his lips, he was doing the same to you. His hand cupped the back of your head and he engulfed your mouth with his. You kissed back with as much passion, but as soon as he was kissing you it was over. That kiss left you wanting more and you subconsciously leaned in closer to him.

“Wow” you whispered looking at him. Lucifer just smiled at you for a second. “I hope you wouldn’t mind if you became my real girlfriend then a spontaneous fake one?” he asked. “I would love nothing more Lucifer,” you replied with a huge grin. “Let’s get out of here then, love,” he said as he took your hand and led you out of the building and back to your shared hotel room. This time there didn’t need to be any excuses to sleep next to each other, you just did.

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 28 - Defy

Title: Irreverent Pt. 28 - Defy Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: R Words: 1690

Irreverent Series Masterlist

You were making lunch for yourself, Hotch, and Jack when you heard the doorbell ring. Hotch looked at you and you nodded at him to get the door. You can vaguely hear him grabbing the door and talking to someone briefly before you hear a voice you haven't heard in years.

"Y/N, you should answer the door to your own home yourself. It's impolite to ask guests to answer for you."

You felt your stomach clench at the familiar nagging voice.

Hotch was standing in your living room with your Mother. She stood in front of him, deftly removing her gloves and giving you her patented look of disdain. What on earth was she doing here? You hadn't seen your mother since graduation. Once you'd stopped attending the mandatory family events she never once reached out or came by. Your father had tried, but she never cared. So the fact that she was standing in your living room was causing your brain to go into hyperactive mode.

"Mother," you swallowed, walking out from the kitchen and into the living room. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Well, if you would answer your phone calls, I wouldn't have to come here in person." She sniffed and proceeded to walk around your living room and take a seat on the couch. You looked at Hotch and he shot you a quick reassuring smile.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to calm yourself instead of freaking out that she was here. "Mother, this is my friend - coworker - Aaron Hotchner," you tell her, indicating towards Hotch. "Hotch, as you might have gathered, this is my mother." The pained smile on your face does not escape his notice.

But Hotch is ever so polite.  His presence is the only thing keeping you from being rude and asking her to simply leave. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. L/N." He smiles and she returns it with a haughty look, still surveying your home.

Right then, Jack comes running in and bumps into your legs. You quickly kneel down to his height. "Hey, you okay? What's up?"

"Y/N, where are the paints?" He asks, as he looks around at his father and notices the stranger sitting on the couch.

"They should be in your room Bud. Check in the drawers." You're very aware of the fact that your mother is watching you interact with a child that is very obviously not your child, who just so happens to have a room in your house. You hated that she was here and able to get a glimpse into your life. A life she had no right to be a part of.

He nods. You turn back up to see her looking at you expectantly. "Mother, this is Jack."

"My son," Hotch interjects, sensing your unease. "Jack, please say hello to Y/N's mother, Mrs. L/N," he prompts.

"Hello Mrs. L/N, it's nice to meet you," you hear Jack say precociously. His father taught him well. "Y/N," he says next, turning back to you, "can I go look upstairs for the paints?"

"Yeah, of course. If you can't find that, let me know and I'll come help." You quickly smile and run a hand through Jack's hair before he turns and runs back upstairs.

Turning your attention back to your mother, you see the shock evident in her face. She was not expecting this when she walked arrived at your door today. This bizarre picture of domesticity that you painted with Hotch and Jack. It was foreign to her.

You wanted her gone, so you asked Hotch to man the stove while you spoke with your mother. He nodded and touched your arm reassuringly before retreating to the kitchen.

Hotch watched as you walked over to the armchair nearest to your mother's spot on the couch and lowered yourself into it. He had his eyes on the stove but his ears were pointed to the living room. Everything he knew about this woman had his guard up.

"Mother, why are you here?" Your voice was softer, more hesitant.

"This is a very interesting setup you've built for yourself. Setting up house with an older man and his child."

"Hotch is a friend, Mother," you reminded her.

"Hm, a friend whose child has a room of his own in your home. Do you think I'm stupid, Y/N?" Her low voice is filled with poison as she speaks to you. "If you had simply married Matthew, you could have had this for yourself instead of stealing someone else's."

Her words caused your heart to ache. She thought you were having some sort of dirty affair with Hotch. You could feel the pin pricks of tears in your eyes accompanied by pure rage but she was the last person you'd ever allow to see you cry. How dare she barge into your home, accuse you of stealing someone's husband, and then remind you of a relationship that you were all too eager to forget forever?

However, you controlled your reaction, knowing that Hotch was still there and didn't need another terrifying view into your awful family. You asked her again, "What are you doing here?"

"I refuse to go through lawyers to get what is rightfully mine. You'd think after being married to the man for years, I wouldn't have to suffer this disgrace!" She was referring to the fact that your father's will had you and your brothers named as the primary beneficiaries of his estate. Your mother was given a small annual allowance, far less than was needed to maintain her lifestyle. You'd wanted very little to do with the matter, however with Dominic in WITSEC still and Julian no longer around, you were the person set to inherit everything. You'd already put aside half for Dominic and were working with the Marshalls to make sure he and his family would be alright. Your Mother - per your lawyer - had been harassing him and your father's lawyers ever since. You wanted to just give her what she asked for, but your lawyer was advising against it as her demands were getting increasingly outlandish. He'd have a field day when you told him about this.

You were determined to keep this as civil as possible still, however. "As you've been told before, I will be going through our lawyers to arrive at a decision we can both live with. I am doing my best to make sure that you are taken care of, however I will not simply hand over everything. Papa was not a good man and I'd like for his money to be used for some good at least."

Her eyes flashed at your words and you knew she was entering into the state where she said anything she wanted. "I will not stand by while you squander all the money on whatever ridiculous cause you've picked up this week. The only good thing you ever did was agree to marry Matthew - he would have taken care of you and I wouldn't have to see the day where you think you're better than us because you're a middling police officer instead of being someone I could proudly point to as my daughter. You have been a disappointment for years now and this whole act you have of being kind and generous and wanting to do good in the world is disgustingly transparent! You even ruined the Matthew thing despite him being so accepting and understanding of your deficiencies - "

"Do not talk to her that way." You turned to see Hotch suddenly standing behind you. He looked completely pissed off in a way you hadn't seen before. "Y/N is amazing and kind and generous and accomplished and everything she has achieved is a credit to her and her alone. She did everything in spite of you and your husband."

You couldn't believe he was standing in your living room and telling off your mother that way. Does he really think that? It's Hotch, of course he does. You could feel the warmth coursing through your body and his presence emboldened you.

Standing, you turned to your mother who still sat on the couch, dazed at being called out. "Mother, please leave. I never wish to see you again. I will do my very best to ensure that you get what you need, but if you ever show up around me again, I'll make sure you get nothing."

Your voice must have been filled with true conviction, because she went from looking dazed to enraged in a moment. However, she must have taken your threat seriously. She stood and looked between you and Hotch, before she said, "Fine." and then proceeded to walk out the door, slamming it behind her.

You looked back at Hotch who now only seemed completely concerned. He reached towards you and you allowed yourself to be pulled into his chest. "Thank you." Your words were muffled against his chest but he heard you nonetheless. You wanted this moment to last forever. So, of course the fire alarm went off.

You watched as Hotch went to go take care of the pan you'd both forgotten on the stove. Lunch would be delayed. You watched as he deftly cleaned up and then began to chop vegetables again so you could start over. You always felt safe and taken care of with Hotch. Even in the field, being partnered with him gave you a sense of security despite how worried you'd get when he threw himself in the path of an Unsub. He was such a good leader and such a good friend and he was always warm and of course everyone else thought he was grumpy but you'd never understood that. He was funny and attractive. He was in control and he was so smart - he always saw the full picture of the profile faster than anyone else. You admired his uncanny ability to be a good boss and then turn around and be a good father to Jack.

I love him.

No thought had ever been clearer in your mind.

[nny11writes]

Hello there. I was reading How to Quit You again and I have a question. What is in the reports on Catra that the Moons keep referencing? Maybe I just missed it in the fic cause my english is not very good. I was just curious.

So, uh, this got a LOT longer than I thought it would and then I started including pictures and basically this got wildly out of hand. Kind of like the fic itself, so I’m not sure what I was thinking lol.

You totally didn’t miss anything! I purposefully left it vague so that people could insert whatever they thought was appropriate (well, inappropriate in this case) there. Essentially to let people ramp things up or down more to their comfort. It was also done in part because back then I wasn’t sure how intense I wanted to make things either. This fic has honestly gotten darker and more mature than I ever thought it would, so leaving it vague has certainly been a benefit to my changing whims lol.

But these days I do have a solid idea for the things that went down. So what I know see happening there is mostly a lot of her mouth getting her in trouble (and not just mouthing off, god Catra wields words like surgical scalpels), but there are a few notable cases where she did physically attack others. 

Catra is still in a bit of Horde mindset here so anything she perceives as someone trying to hold power over her or kick her down demands she respond. Because if you aren’t on top, then you’re getting crushed under someone’s boot and Catra has both 1. Long grown tired of being abused and 2. Gotten used to being the one on top. So she responds with more force than needed and uses preemptive strikes to protect herself.

We need a little backstory here so:

When the whole Erlandia thing went down, Catra was 2nd in command of the Horde. Technically Weaver was, but everyone knew that it was actually Catra calling the shots. She’d had Hordak’s favor for years by that point and practically was the boss of their little posse. But Hordak is VERY vicious in this fic since we didn’t have a Horde Prime when I started writing this (If I were to do a full re-write I’d make Prime be the big guy and the characterization would fit so damn well tbh), and he operates under a fuck you model of catch 22. If you mess up you are fucked, and if you are honest about messing up you are only barely mildly less fucked. So if you can successfully lie or deflect the blame then his wrath won’t fall on you, but get caught lying? Woof. 

So either way is a great way to end up dead (RIP Mantenna I will release your death fic someday), and the higher up the chain of command you are the farther you have to fall. 

(Picture below of the bridge near my hometown I was picturing Mantenna being hurled from in Catra’s place for reference, because I realized no one would understand my falling joke at this point :D)

(Catra had a long way to fall whenever Hordak decided to kick her down)

Once she saw her wanted posters Catra knew she had to flee Horde territory or else she would be captured and probably brutally tortured for weeks before finally dying. And the Horde, who had suffered under Catra’s relentless pace and high expectations (look, they certainly were 400% more efficient at first and then people start dropping for exhaustion and mutiny and worse), they would’ve loved the opportunity to do literally anything they wanted to her. That’s why she ran.

So Catra’s still somewhat in this mindset of “I’m running this operation and if you try to contradict me or undermine me I have full permission to kill you for it” those first few years in Etheria.

Some of the worst of her behavior was actually contained at the Archer’s house where she was living until she got the Brakeman job. (Bow is currently being a little fickle but I am writing from his PoV for another one shot in this AU where he’ll touch on these things a bit too.) By the time she gets that job, Catra is already starting to try and be a better person. Begrudgingly and with a lot of frustration for sure. But she is trying and it’s a painful growing process.

(Hello sir, like that train and view, this is Catra chapter 3 y’all)

So those reports contain her mostly being a smart ass. 

But she also verbally eviscerates people, picking them apart piece by piece in public settings. She caused at least one mental breakdown on the tracks where people need to keep their heads for safety. 

Think of her like someone on twitter who keeps the receipts (and wisely spends her limited time alive compiling them into a list) and jumps on someone for making a mistake, which she then blows out of proportion while never giving them the chance to learn and grow. All while making every bad faith interpretation she can and poisoning the well. She delights in this, she loves tearing someone down to nothing because it means she WON and she was right, and in the moment people seemed to cheer her on. But afterwards, when everyone else gets tied up in the shame and guilt of their actions she doesn’t and it puts her more on the outs. 

The thing about this sort of behavior is that it’s hard to prove when it’s verbal and everyone else involved is too ashamed to admit they participated. So it’s more “hearsay” than anything else. Honestly, kind of like real life there’s a lot of people being told to suck it up, ignore her, or be the bigger person while she is being an outright bully. It’s not right, but it’s what happened.

On top of that, she lies and deflects and blames as well. Nothing can be her fault (because Hordak would’ve killed her, Weaver would’ve tortured her, and worse), so she is conniving and scheming and manages to twist everything so she’s never the root problem even when she is. The higher ups are usually doing their best to interpret what they are hearing (although not always) second or third hand, and Catra can dance verbal circles around her co-workers. 

This doesn’t endear her to anyone either.

I hesitate to say as a consequence of her behavior, because that is some strong ass wording, but essentially her coworkers are fed up with being attacked by her. And they decide to get back at her, and they certainly can’t do that through talking or arguing (some have tried, almost all have failed). So a small group of them do physically attack her.

She uses that as justification to be a right bastard and decides to start doling it out again because it’s proof to her that she was right. She absolutely falls back into destructive, awful behavior. Everywhere is just like the Horde, they just hide it better. Catra doesn’t ramp up, but her attacks become more vicious and more directed after that. And this is also when she finally decides that the Archer’s were an anomaly and she absolutely needs to prove that no one can try to get the jump on her.

So the later reports are fewer in number, but more about her being caught or admitting to doing something physically violent instead of her being sarcastic or verbally cruel. These reports range from throwing a single punch to implying she’d attack with a weapon. Mostly it’s small scale (this is when we see Angella talk to Catra in a flashback), but there is one very notable exception.

Catra was working top with a motherfucker who had determined that no one liked her, so he thought he could try to push her around. They were literally assigned together because no one liked either of them, and they were both known for being violent. So the bosses went, “Let them duke it out on the trains, maybe calm them both down!” (Fucking idiots. Why yes, all this gunpowder should be stored next to the lit oil lamp!) She’s trying to keep it together, but she absolutely loses it and goes feral on him. This confrontation happens when she almost kills him by dangling him over the side of the train as they approached a tunnel. It could’ve been the perfect crime, brakeman is a dangerous fucking job for many reason but falling off the train or getting drunk and getting yourself killed isn’t uncommon. 

(Think like the miners at Cerro Gordo who would ride the ore carts back up from town, and be so fucking drunk they’d stand up and get their heads knocked clean off their bodies.) 

Catra really almost does it too, but the last time she thought she’d had the perfect crime with Weaver she’d been caught and everything fucking fell apart. So she yanks him back to safety, and tells him to fuck off.

Somehow she really thought that would be the end of it (she made her points, made him piss himself, and is now top dog again; good job girlboss), but bastard boy ran to the bosses to report her.

(Look, picture this train going through a slightly smaller tunnel rocking side to side, depending on the rail up to a foot either side, so you would get crushed if you weren’t laying down on top or clinging to the back of the train. You’d be terrified and report someone too.)

This is what Angella is warning Glimmer away over. She’s thinking about this instance, where Catra claims that they did get into a fight and admits to starting it but denies threatening to kill him. He claims that he did nothing wrong while everyone knows he does shit wrong on a regular schedule. And everyone else says, “Well we weren’t there but it sounds like something she’d do.”

Catra is careful to never go too far where it can be proven, and in town she is as polite as can be. Everyone knows she’s a hard worker and slowly but surely she makes a place for herself in the community without even noticing. Most of the folks she works with don’t have the time, money, or energy to build their own reputation as individuals. Company housing was built specifically because the workers were known as being too rowdy. But Catra will burn the candle from both ends to see Bow, Adora, and Glimmer. So Angella is hearing stories from folks in town about that “lovely young woman” and horror stories from the rails about that “hellish bitch”, and she doesn’t know which to believe. 

She’s biased in Catra’s favor because she’s seen Catra be good and lovely, she’s biased because her daughter is crushing on Catra, she’s biased for a lot of reasons.

Angella is also a coward and conflict avoidant. 

It’s easier to give excuses, or look for reasoning, or even twist the narrative so that she doesn’t have to confront anyone. She won’t have to confront Catra and hurt her, which would hurt Glimmer and Bow. She won’t have to confront her workers either, no need to face them down when they are furious with her for inaction. She doesn’t have to fear a fight or even put her reputation on the line as long as she can “prove” that Catra didn’t go as far as the reports say she does. 

I love Angella to death, but the woman has a lot of problems and flaws and isn’t working on any of them. She does care about her workers health and happiness, but not enough to sacrifice her daughters (or herself). Frankly she barely sacrifices her pocket book but she does. Yes she’s semi-capitalist propaganda but this version of the “wild west” is more idealized for sure for sure. :\

Essentially, Catra got fucking lucky that Angella was looking for ways to prove that she was a good person. Because if Angella had actually put her glasses on and faced the truth? Catra would’ve been fired and practically run out of town.

Aaaaaaand that’s what I think was in the reports. :)

[fantasticstoryteller]

New Dynasty Chapter 10

“You brought him here?” shrieked a voice, stabbing through Peter’s temples. “You idiot!”

“Look,” said a defensive voice, “We need a clean sample.”

“We won’t be needing anything if we’re shut down,” snarled the first voice.

Peter opened his eyes and saw a woman in a lab coat glaring at a man wearing body armor. Good body armor too, a muzzy part of his brain noticed. Sleek and almost form fitting, like that new stuff Tony was making. A quick try to get up proved his suspicions: he was strapped down. It looked like he was strapped down to a gurney of some kind.

“So, uh, anyone want to fill me in on what’s going on?” he asked dryly, not expecting an answer.

The female sighed, brought a hand to her head, and muttered, “Idiots, every last one of you. Mr. Parker,” she said firmly.

Peter’s skin crawled. He could tell that he was still wearing his suit, so there should have been no way for her to know who he was. “Parker?” he asked, trying to sound quizzical.

She made an irritated sound. “Please don’t pretend with us. We know very well what your other identity is and we are no threat to you.” She emphasized the words as her left hand clutched her white coat.

“You’ll have to forgive me for finding that hard to believe,” Peter drawled. “Since, you know.” He tried to move an arm that was strapped down. He wasn’t sure what he was strapped down with, since he could break almost anything.

“I’m sorry my coworker is a moron.”

“Hey!”

“I asked him to get a fresh blood sample for our program, and he took that to mean that we needed to kidnap you.”

“And, uh, how was he supposed to get the blood?” asked Peter warily.

“Please, you heroes bleed all over the city. It’s not that hard. They were supposed to be watching,” she added with a glare at the man in the armor, “for you to get into an altercation that ended up spilling blood.”

“We need the sample now,” muttered the man.

“We don’t need to compromise the facility!” the woman snarled back at him. She took a deep breath, looked at Peter, and gentled her voice. “Since they brought you here anyway, I’m just going to ask. Mr. Parker, may we take a small sample of your blood?”

“Am I really in a position to refuse?” asked Peter warily.

“Absolutely,” the woman said firmly. “We would never dream of pricking you with a needle without your consent, Mr. Parker.”

“Don’t want to piss of that damn mad man,” muttered the guy in body armor.

Suddenly Peter understood. The reason the woman was being so polite was not because she cared about Peter as a person, but because they were terrified of Wade. No wonder he always felt safer at Wade’s place—it was probably the only place these people wouldn't go.

“So, out of curiosity,” Peter asked, “if I say ‘no’, what happens?”

“We knock you out however he knocked you out in the first place, remove the transmitter inhibitor on your chest, and drop you off as close to Stark Tower as we believe is safe.” Peter looked at his chest and saw an odd black lump stuck there. “We have no intention,” the woman continued, “of antagonizing either you or any of your—associates.”

A ripple along his skin warned him a second before the wall to his right exploded and Deadpool strode in, the eyes on his suit narrowed and calmly tossing a grenade from hand to hand. “Lucy,” he called. “You got some ‘splainin’ to do!”

“Oh, shit!” swore the guy in the body armor. He swallowed hard. “How—how did you find this place?”

“Behold the powers of the author space!” roared Deadpool as he rushed forwards pulling one of his katanas. At the last minute, instead of decapitating the man, Deadpool slammed the flat of the blade against his head, knocking him down.

Pity that body armor hadn’t included a helmet, Peter thought absently as the man dropped like a load of bricks.

“Mr. Deadpool,” the woman in the lab coat said warily as she backed away from him, both hands in the air, “we have done nothing to harm him.” Apparently, while she was well aware of who Peter was, Deadpool was still a mystery to them—and one they didn’t want to try to solve.

“You kidnapped him!” snarled Deadpool.

“That was a miscommunication,” the woman said as she continued to back away. “We have done nothing except talk to him, Mr. Deadpool.” It was clear, from the look on her face, that she was terrified.

Peter was having a little trouble caring, at the moment. “Hey, DP,” he called distracting the mercenary. “Can you give me a little help over here?” he raised what he could of his hands to wave them.

Deadpool whirled to face Peter, on the gurney. The eyes roamed over him taking in the undamaged suit, the odd black box on his chest, and the straps holding him in. Deadpool sheathed his katana. “Sure thing, Buddy,” he said cheerfully. “No,” he added to himself as he trotted over to Peter, “I don’t think he’d like to recreate this in the bedroom.”

“Hey White,” said Peter, recognizing the response.

“Hey Spiderman,” said Deadpool calmly. He reached under the gurney, twisted something—and the straps fell off. He put a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “You okay?” he asked.

“A little woozy, but fine.” Peter heard the woman running and, irritated with her, webbed her to the floor watching her fall hard to the cement. His head flipped around at the sound of jet engines.

Deadpool somehow managed to make his mask roll its eyes. “Look who finally decided to show up,” he growled.

Peter raised a hand to shush him. He heard—something. What was that odd sound? It was familiar, somehow…

He carefully made his way through the place. It looked (aside from the wall Deadpool blew up) like nothing more than lobby, or maybe the public entrance of a warehouse. The floor was cement, it wasn’t that big, and there were two chairs on either side of a door.

He flipped open the door (wincing as he accidentally ripped it off its hinges) and stared. On the other side of the door was a room that looked suspiciously like an elevator, all stainless steel with tracks for the doors to shut. That’s not what grabbed his attention though. What got his attention was the little girl inside it. She was small, barely three feet tall, and had long, fluffy light brown hair. She was wearing what looked like a large dingy white nightshirt.

When he opened the door she flung herself into one of the corners and covered herself with lightly scarred arms. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’msorryI’msorry!” she shrieked, as she trembled like a leaf. As Peter stood there, she began to quietly cry.

“No, hey,” Peter said as he crouched to her level. She flinched, but he kept his voice as calm and soothing as possible. “It’s okay,” he told her. “You don’t have to be afraid.” She peeked at him with large, amber eyes, but kept her arms up, still shaking. “I’m Spiderman,” he said, to introduce himself.

“What? How dare you insinuate I’m anything less than sane?” ranted the man behind him.

“And that’s Deadpool. He’s a little—odd, but he’s a good guy too,” added Peter. Deadpool leaned on Peter’s frame and from the corner of his eye he could tell the mercenary was waving at the girl. Oddly enough, this made the girl relax a bit, and the arms came down as she watched them warily. “I just want you to know that you’re safe now,” he told her.

The girl’s eyes widened and, in a move almost too quick to be believed, reached forwards and grabbed Peter’s costumed hand with a tight, almost bone-crushing grip. “Can you save the others too?” she asked. “Make them safe?”

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

True Winchester Fashion | Adam Milligan x Reader (Oneshot?)

Prompt: Meet Cute

Fandom: Supernatural

Warnings: Mentions of gore, minor swearing, only brief fluff because Winchesters can’t catch a break

Words: 1643

A/N: This was supposed to be fluffy, why am I like this? I haven’t caught up with SPN, all I know from S15 is Adam’s brief appearance. This is another idea I had way before S15, revised to fit his current situation, of how they would bring back Adam again in my vain hope of him recurring more often.

-

The bar wasn’t exactly your thing, but your friends wanted to celebrate the end of the grueling final exams and teased you for being boring. All you wanted to do was borrow your neighbor’s netflix account and relax with a tub of ice cream. They weren’t having it and were determined to get you laid. You were determined to make sure they don’t get in trouble and drive them home.

Three shots in and your little group had already attracted unwanted attention. Three guys at the billiards table kept glancing at your group, whispering among each other while smirking and laughing. You only hoped that they’d keep their distance, but that may be wishful thinking.

“Hey, we’re going to the bathroom,” one of your friends said, “Can you watch our drinks?”

“Of course,” you said.

They swung an arm around each other’s neck and made their way towards the heavily graffitied restrooms, dodging other patrons on their way in. You sighed, wondering how many bottles they were going to drink before they called it a night. It was a pain to clean up their vomit from your backseat last time. A price to pay for being the designated driver.

From the corner of your eye, you could see those three guys putting down their pool cue sticks and making their way towards the bar area. You let out a shaky breath, glancing back at the bathroom doors for your friends.

“Hey, is this seat taken?” You turned and saw a man with a pair of familiar hazel eyes standing next to you. He smiled. “I’m Adam, by the way.”

“I know. We had a few classes together,” you said, briefly looking away to hide how flustered you were at his sudden appearance. “You borrowed my notes for Micro lab once.”

“Yeah, (Y/n), right?” You nodded. “Let me return the favor and make sure that the three little piggies over there don’t bother you.”

You sighed in relief. “Thank you.”

Adam hopped onto the stool next to you and ordered a beer. “So, got any plans for the break?”

“Not really. Mostly work. You?”

He sighed. “I was hoping to visit family, but they haven’t answered any of my calls. Must be a busy year for them with the whole… family business thing.”

“Family business? What does your family do?”

“Uh,” he paused, taking a swig of his beer.

He could still say they were hunters, but he didn’t want to go off on a tangent of what they hunt. Once, he had to deal with someone’s rant about the ethics of hunting animals and while he knew you, he didn't know you enough to know whether you’d do that. He looked down at the bottle and found an answer.

“Brewing. My family owns a brewing company. Winchester and Milligan, or W and M. It’s small, but it’s something.” He shook his head and pointed his bottle at you. “What about you?”

“I work at the library,” you said with a shrug, “Boring, I know.”

Adam shook his head. “No, not boring at all. Is it the public library?”

“Museum library, actually.”

“Even cooler!” You looked down bashfully, shaking your head at him. “It’s true!”

You and Adam chatted for almost half an hour when you realized that your friends were taking too long. You frowned, checking your phone for any messages and found none. Adam could sense your distress, but you excused yourself to go and check on them in the bathroom.

Passing two couples in a heavy makeout session, you squeezed your way to the bathroom, calling out the names of your friends. They weren’t at the sinks, so you made your way towards the stalls, looking out for their shoes. Halfway down, you found a sight that made your stomach churn. A scream was stuck in your throat as you shakily opened the stall door.

There was a high pitched noise, then it went dark.

Everyone near the bathrooms heard the scream, but no one dared to move. Adam cursed under his breath rushing over and bursted through the door. He found you collapsed on the sticky floor next to a pool of blood. He checked you for a pulse, which was faint, and if you had any injuries. Seeing that you had only fainted, he gently propped you up against the wall and stood to investigate the blood. It was one of your friends slumped over the toilet seat, neck viciously ripped open, lifeless eyes left wide open.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered. His brothers better answer their damn phones this time.

-

In true Winchester fashion, when one case is finally closed, another one opens up. They had done a full day of well earned rest when their little brother called them, sending several text messages when they didn’t answer. It wasn’t how they wanted to reunite with him, but that was just how it was going to be.

They rolled up to the bar, red and blue lighting up the parking lot. An ambulance was parked on the side with what looked to be a college student wrapped in a blanket sitting at the back being examined by medics.

Sam and Dean flashed their badges and were allowed to pass the police tape. Tucking their badges away, they spotted Adam next to the ambulance talking to one of the medics. They nodded at him, making their way towards the sheriff to get the formalities out of the way.

“According to those two kids there,” the sheriff said, gesturing to Adam and the college student before leading Sam and Dean into the bar, “Their friends had gone to the bathroom and didn’t come out for almost half an hour. One went to check on them and fainted and I don’t blame them. You might want to brace yourselves for this one, agents.”

“Trust me, in our line of work, nothing surprises us,” Dean said with a smirk.

Adam watched his brothers go before turning back to you. The medics had cleared you, saying that you were still in shock but you were okay to leave. He led you away from the ambulance, replacing the blanket with his jacket.

“Don’t worry, (Y/n), they’ve got this covered,” he assured you.

You remained silent, still trying to come to terms with what had happened to your friend and wondering what kind of monster would have done this. There was also the fact that your other friend was missing from the scene and could not be contacted. It all happened so fast, how could this have happened in less than an hour with no one noticing?

You didn’t realize how long you were just standing there, spacing out, until Adam started speaking again. “I’m going to talk to the feds over there, okay? You’ll be okay, right?”

You nodded. He gave you a once over filled with concern, fixing his jacket over your shoulders before walking towards the towering federal agents that came to investigate. You blinked, a strange thought that they would pass as brothers. The agents looked over at you and gave you a polite smile and a nod of acknowledgement, then turned their attention back to Adam.

“They’re cute. Nice touch with the jacket,” Dean teased, “Look at our little bro carrying down the family legacy of being a casanova.”

Sam huffed out a laugh. “We’ll talk about his love life later,” he said, “What do you guys think?”

“Vampire?” Adam guessed, “Is messy toilet murder their M.O.?”

Sam shook his head. “Well, they usually try to be more discreet. It’s also possible that they’ve taken the friend back to their den. Did you notice anyone going in and out of the bathroom?”

“No, I-”

“He was probably busy chatting up his cute friend over there,” Dean said. Adam glared at him, earning a playful smirk in return and a slap on the shoulder. “I’ll go ask around for any more witnesses.”

“Hey,” Sam said, snapping Adam’s attention away from their older brother, “Let’s get this over with and we’ll catch up later, okay?”

Adam nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, and, uh… (Y/n) is still in shock, so be careful with them.”

Sam suppressed a chuckle. “Dude, you realize how long we’ve been doing this gig? I know. We’ll see you later.”

You were holding Adam’s jacket tighter around you, the image of your friend in the bathroom engraved into your brain. They were just slumped over like a life size doll, the smell of iron and piss in the air, the loud rock music mixed with moans from the couples making out, it was all like a scene in a movie that you couldn’t believe you were in. There was no scream or ruckus or anything and suddenly they’re gone just like that.

One of the federal agents walked up to you, going through the usual greetings and then the questionings. You told him what you told the sheriff, doubting that it was going to be much help. Then, he started to ask questions that caught you off guard. If there were any disappearances in the last month, anyone you knew that started acting differently and particularly avoiding going outside. You answered with the best of your abilities before you were dismissed.

A coworker had heard what happened and came to pick you up, reassuring you that your car could be picked up the next morning. Before you climbed into her car, you looked around for Adam who seemed to have left already. Frowning, you put on his jacket properly before ducking in.

A shadow stood at the back of the bar, watching the car leave. The shadow remained where they were, watching the two federal agents until they left in their ‘67 Chevy Impala. They needed to report to the Alpha.

[13atoms]

Deep Focus: Chapter 3 [Tom Hiddleston x Reader]

Summary: Tom is a successful porn director with a romantic streak which proves very popular with his female audience. His resident porn actress and business partner has been with him through thick and thin, the two of them growing completely inseparable, even as her own career starts taking off. But working in such close proximity is intense, and burgeoning feelings threaten to complicate their professional relationship.

Mature, smut, porn director!AU, ethical porn production discussion, porn-star-and-coworker!reader. Friends to lovers, slow-ish burn. This chapter: no smut, light hurt / comfort, all fluff. Warnings for usual stuff + UTI talk [6k] Ao3 link

You woke up in agony. With an ache through your entire lower body, and that distinctive, painful need to piss that made you want to cry. After a few dazed moments in the bathroom, you realised what was wrong, and bit back tears as at the overwhelming sensation cramping through your entire lower body.

Before you’d even googled the symptoms, you knew Urinary Tract Infection would be at the top of your screen. Next to it, a new message from Tom, asking some question about a file he couldn’t find.

Fuck off, you wanted to send back, crawling back to bed and struggling to focus on the words as the burning sensation refused to subside. Another message followed it:

Tom: Actually no rush, we can go over it in the office.

A few more seconds, and he’d sent:

Tom: Does 12 still work

Tom: I’ll bring snacks :)

That stupid smiley face. He still couldn’t work out emojis. Usually it would endear him to you, but instead it brought tears to your eyes, your duvet both a comfort and unbearably stifling as you wrapped yourself around it, desperately shifting your hips to find a position which might numb the burning pain from that fucking UTI.

You were hungry, shaky, and you knew if you wanted painkillers you’d have to get food. But it was so far away. And the thought of cooking food made you want to throw up. Or scream into the pillow.

Your phone buzzed again.

Tom: ?

It wasn’t his fault. You knew it wasn’t his fault. Even if he had written the script and directed the scene and then trapped you into a heartwarming conversation which had definitely given bacteria the chance to destroy your urethra and bladder after hours of being fucked and fingered and you were going to kill him if he sent one more fucking text.

Grumpy and in pain and curled up in bed, it felt exhausting to even compose a short text which was polite enough to not hurt his feelings.

Sorry, don’t think I can make it in. Need a sick day.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, and considering just sucking it up and going in to the office. Maybe if you could grin and bear it, it might take your mind off things. Then you needed to piss again, pain pulsing in your entire lower abdomen, and you cursed the day you ever took the damn job. As you limped to and back from the bathroom, grabbing a huge glass of water on the way, the insistent buzz of your phone interrupted your pity party.

Of course it was Tom calling you.

You thought about not picking up, but you knew he’d only worry more. And some small part of you wanted the sympathy, as you forced yourself to chug water you knew would burn on the way out and lamented the bloated pain in your bladder.

“Hey, Tom.”

A second after you picked up, he was already in a full blown speech.

“Hey! Are you okay? What’s going on? You should have said you weren’t feeling well yesterday, we didn’t need to shoot. It’s – ”

He trailed off, and you smiled at the sound of his huff down the phone, his frustration at himself as he realised he wasn’t giving you space to talk. Even as the pain in your lower stomach demanded your attention, you caught yourself smiling.

“I’m fine, just feeling a bit worse for wear.”

For a beat he was silent, but you could imagine the furrow in his brow, the way his eyes would soften with concern if you could see his face.

“What’s really wrong?”

His voice was so soft, laced with that rare kind of sincerity that left you feeling like he truly, truly cared, and suddenly you realised you were crying. Stumbling over your words, face screwed up from discomfort, you knew you should be mortified to be sobbing down the phone to him. But Tom wouldn’t care.

“I’ve got a UTI, and it really fucking hurts. I should have peed straight after the shoot yesterday but I forgot and I don’t think I can get out of bed. I’m really sorry, I’ll – I’ll make up on the work. Email me what I need to do I just… I can’t do it today,” you choked out.

On the other end of the phone, you could hear Tom was moving.

“Oh, darling. Don’t even think about the work. You don’t need to apologise. I’m… what do I need to do? I’m on my way over.”

You wouldn’t expect anything less, the unguarded concern and tinge of panic in his voice catching you off-guard with how sweet it was. He was really worried. The conversation from yesterday loomed large in your memory – was he just worried about losing his biggest talent? You knew that wasn’t true, cursing yourself as soon as the thought flitted through your mind. He really cared.

Background noise leaked through the call as he put his phone on speaker, the jangle of keys and the sound of doors slamming telling you he was getting ready to leave.

“Tom, it’s fine. Please. I don’t need you to look after me,” you protested, “just the day off is great.”

He said your name lowly, almost a whine, and you knew he wouldn’t be discouraged whatever you said.

“I’m fine…” you returned, equally stubborn. You expected him to laugh, but instead the phone was returned to his ear, his voice clear as glass, with all of his decisive firmness.

“You said you couldn’t get out of bed. I’m coming over.”

It was enough to forget the discomfort you felt, your heart clenching at his protectiveness. You could keep fighting him – some part of you didn’t want him seeing you sick – but in truth it sounded really nice to be looked after. You curled up tighter in your bed, the screen of the phone cooling against your overheated cheek.

“So I’ll ask again,” he continued, “is there anything I can do to help?”

“Could you grab some cranberry juice on the way over? And maybe some junk food?”

“Of course. You should have just asked.”

“Thank you.”

Your voice sounded impossibly small, some admission of weakness, but Tom didn’t acknowledge it. He chatted for a bit longer, the sounds of the city playing in snatches alongside his baritone as he walked through the streets, blathering and giving you advice and smothering you with sympathy as he rushed over. It made you smile as you just listened, distracted a little from the pain and pressure in your bladder, as he offered completely vague and generic advice about looking after yourself.

It was nice. To have someone care for you that much. He was completely forgiven for his hand in causing you all that pain to start with.

“Are you sure you shouldn’t go to a doctor?”

You heard him stop walking, no longer distracted from his worry as it leeched into his voice. You could imagine the little row of shops he was standing outside of, the faded shopfronts he was staring down.

“I’ll be fine, Tom.”

“There’s a pharmacy on the way –”

“No!” you laughed, imaging his frustration as it was accompanied by the beeping of traffic lights.

He only hung up as he entered a shop, promising he wasn’t too far away, and as the line went dead you realised you’d been smiling for the past five minutes.

*

When Tom arrived you were just leaving the bathroom, rushing to the door and drying your hands on your sweatpants, fighting to stand normally even as a fresh burning pain demanded your attention.

He was juggling bags as you let him in, one in his arms and a backpack weighing him down.

“Hey!” he greeted, bustling past you to the kitchen, leaving you to close the door behind him.

You privately liked it when he was like this – on a warpath. It happened on set quite a lot, everything else forgotten as he found a goal and the blinders went on. You were usually there to balance him out – to remember to talk to people and do the boring stuff.

His current warpath was rummaging through your cupboards, muttering about all the things you needed to be given to feel better. He turned to face you slightly out of breath, a completely over reactionary panic in his eyes.

“I got you breakfast too, I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten.”

As he set his backpack down on your kitchen counter, unpacking pastries and painkillers and snacks, you wondered what you had done to deserve Tom. Without thinking, ignoring the fact you were just wearing sweats and probably needed a shower, you hugged him. Pulling you closer to him without hesitation, you felt Tom smile against you.

You blamed the pain, the hunger, the stupid bacteria, for the tears pooling in your eyes.

“Thank you,” you murmured into the hug.

Tom squeezed you just a little bit tighter, one hand tensing where it splayed flat against your shoulder blade. He refused to let you go first.

“Of course,” he murmured back.

Finally you stepped back, ducking you head to avoid his eyeline, turning your attention to the stuff he’d brought. Tom seemed to take a second to snap out of his daze, his overwhelming energy momentarily sapped, allowing the moment to fade away.

As he started to unpack the bag, you realised just how overboard he had gone. Every brand of cranberry juice you could imagine. You got a narrative of everything he bought as he stacked it in front of you, batting your hands if you tried to help.

“I know you said not to, but I spoke to a pharmacist on the way over. He said you don’t need to see a doctor unless it’s bad for another three days, then they might give you antibiotics. I got you paracetamol too – he said that was best.”

Two boxes of pills emerged from the bag, followed by chocolate.

“Since you feel rough,” he explained sheepishly, before pulling out more pills, “and I also got Vitamin C tablets. Those are supposed to help. Snacks for lunch…”

He’d practically bought you the whole corner shop, and you bit back a fond smile as he filled the fridge.

“…and cranberry juice. As requested.”

You were about to thank him, the words trapped in your mouth at just how overboard he had gone, but Tom was already speaking again.

“I know he said just to give you painkillers, but if it gets worse I will take you to see a doctor. Your kidneys might be at risk if it doesn’t clear up soon –”

You sat down heavily in the kitchen, pulling your legs closer to yourself as the pain spiked for a moment, making Tom twist to face you in concern. It fucking hurt, but you wouldn’t let him see that. With a huff of laughter, you tugged at his arm to sit beside you.

“Tom! You are mothering me to death,” you teased, feeling your cheeks burn hot at his attention.

“I’m hopefully mothering you to make you feel better, darling.”

Damn him, for being so sweet. You felt yourself blush under the attention.

“Just because you need me to find that file!” you shot back, trying not to stare at the way his teeth worried his bottom lip.

His eyes met yours intensely, purposefully, and for a second you remembered his uncanny ability to be so sincere it felt like he was staring right through you.

“It’s not just work. I care about you,” he told you candidly. You almost couldn’t bear to listen to it. “I was so worried when you said you were sick. I hoped you were just hungover or something.”

Snorting a laugh, you tried to break the heaviness of the atmosphere. It sounded horrifically unnatural. Tom didn’t even crack a smile.

“There’s a reason we start at 12 most days,” you teased, before sensing you’d somehow gotten the mood entirely wrong. Tom stayed quiet.

“Thank you,” you tried again, voice more sincere as you tried to match him, wincing as you shifted your hips, “I do really appreciate it. So much. I was just going to lie in bed and be miserable, and this is actually making me feel better.”

You’re making me feel better. The thought went unsaid.

“I’m glad.”

The pair of you ate in silence for a while, Tom working on an orange as you munched through the breakfast he’d brought you. Every few bites, you caught his concerned gaze on you.

“You should have told me straight away. And we’ll get you the week off work.”

You went to protest, but he’d strategically spoken as you had a mouth full of food. He ploughed on.

“No arguments. We can reschedule the shoot on Thursday, or hire someone else.”

“Tom, no. I’ll be fine once I’ve down the… three cartons of cranberry juice you bought. How much do I owe you, by the way?”

“Not a penny.”

“Tom!”

He ignored your complaints, silently moving to stand instead. As Tom searched for a glass, opening random cupboards, you picked a carton to chug cranberry juice from with all the grace of a frat boy. Tom laughed at first, before resting on hand on your arm as you forced yourself to drink as much as you could.

“You’ll make yourself sick!” he protested, and you finally conceded defeat and put down the remaining half of the carton.

“Better than this UTI,” you grumbled, “cranberry juice usually clears them pretty quick.”

He left you to it for a while as you forced down the sickly sweet cranberry juice (not your favourite brand, you decided, but it would do) and finished your breakfast.

Assuming he was responding to emails you sat quietly, letting him focus while you enjoyed the food, until you caught the banner of WebMD at the top of his screen. You sighed, and Tom’s focus was on you in a second, worry in the lines of his forehead.

“Is it bad?” he asked quietly, glancing down at the hand firmly place on your lower stomach.

“It’s not ideal,” you conceded.

He bit his lip, and you knew he was sinking further into a pit of worry.

“People have them all the time. Stop reading that, I’ll be okay!”

“I just get scared. Whenever I see what you go through at work, I – ”

“You make it sound like I’m suffering some terrible fate, Tom. It’s my job, and I have to do it. This could have happened from anything.”

You cut yourself off before you could accuse him of overreacting. He was sincerely worried. You didn’t want to mock that.

“You could get a hot water bottle, if you don’t mind?” you suggested, “That helps sometimes.”

He was on his feet before you finished speaking, rummaging through cupboards and flicking the kettle on. It seemed like a good solution, to give him a task. You chewed your last bite of croissant slowly as you watched him.

Sweet, sweet Tom. It was dangerous to admit, but you had no idea what you would do if he wasn’t in your life. You watched the line of his slim build as he strode around your kitchen, filling the hot water bottle and testing the heat of it against his hand before he guided you to stand.

“Come and sit on the sofa, love.”

One hand outstretched, a fluffy water bottle grasped against his side, curls dishevelled, you were taken aback yet again by just how rare Tom was. You often wondered if he had some secret partner you’d never heard about, some situationship or wife or something he kept hidden from you.

It just didn’t seem possible a man like this could go home to an empty house. Your heart ached for him, sometimes. His loneliness, as he fought to climb the ladder in such a harsh industry with that ridiculously soft heart of his.

Then he was calling your name, stepping closer with concern on his face, reaching for your jaw as you stood dazed.

“Sweetheart?”

“Sorry,” you blinked, trying to snap out it, stumbling forwards a little as you tried to reassure him you were fine.

One hand still rested awkwardly on your aching lower stomach, and Tom was shoving the hot water bottle beneath it, arms ready to brace you if you fell. Fuck. Embarrassment overtook your senses, tears starting to well in your eyes, as you realised just how shit you felt.

Tom was muttering about sitting down, guiding you as if you couldn’t navigate to your own sofa without help, a helpless concern on his face which was making your heart ache with guilt.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered again as he helped you sit, suddenly overwhelmed by the need to pee, by a fresh pain in your stomach. By Tom’s hands on you, the smell of his cologne and the concerned crinkle of his forehead as he knelt on the ground in front of you.

Leaning forwards, you tried to be subtle as you shoved the hot water bottle tighter against your lap and grit your teeth against the fresh wave of discomfort. Those painkillers had better kick in soon. With your eyes clenched shut you didn’t have to see Tom’s concern, didn’t have to imagine yourself weak and useless in his eyes. Even so, your embarrassment about him witnessing you like this was potent. You hardly felt like you were in your own body, confused and clumsy. You realised you were still gripping Tom’s hand, probably hurting his fingers as you squeezed involuntarily from the pain.

You let go suddenly, gasping as you remembered to breathe, hand covering your own eyes instead.

He was watching silently, and it unnerved you more than his rambling. Under the mask of your fingers you opened your eyes, seeing the fold of his knees against the floor and the wringing of his hands in his lap.

All you could hear was your breathing and his, slow and fast respectively.

Fuck, you needed to piss again. Damn cranberry juice. The knowledge that it would flush your system was all the comfort you could grasp as the uncomfortable pressure in your bladder became abruptly unbearable and the pain seemed to swell further, somehow.

You thought for a moment, your brain ticking along painfully slowly with exhaustion and pain, enjoying the darkness of your eyes screwed closed beneath your palm.

Ignore Tom. Stand up. Get to the bathroom. Pee.

In your confusion-addled brain, it felt like enough of a plan. The discomfort was so potent, it was hard to string thoughts together. After a few seconds of bracing yourself, it felt like every muscle in your body strained to stand back up again, resting a hand on the couch for balance as you swayed for a second, blinking against the sudden brightness bombarding your opened eyes. Tom was asking you what you were doing, but you ignored him. You felt drunk, nauseous, staggering and eyes still welling with tears at the sheer agony of straightening up to walk the few steps to the bathroom.

You could ignore Tom, this fresh well of misery making his words seem miles away, but as you finally got close the bathroom door his hands on your hips halted you in place.

He forced you to look at him, eyes struggling to focus on his features, the deep frown on his face deepening as he saw the tear tracking down your cheek.

“What are you doing?” he asked purposefully, overenunciating the words like he was speaking to a stubborn child, hands grounding you as he held you still.

“Bathroom.”

The words seemed like someone else’s, taking an impossible amount of effort, shaky as they fell from your lips. You realised you were fully crying, and some distant, rational part of you felt a stab of mortification.

“Okay,” Tom nodded in understanding, still using that slow, controlled tone.

He didn’t seem to have anything else to comment, guiding you to the bathroom door and opening it, letting you walk inside before holding it open by the handle.

You frowned, struggling to find the words to complain to him, desperate to pee and try to end the pain in your sensitive bladder. Tom’s face was still creased with concern, a fresh tinge of quiet authority in the set of his jaw.

“Please don’t lock the door,” he insisted, and you frowned. “I won’t… I won’t open it. I promise. But please don’t lock it. Just in case.”

You nodded mutely, unhappy, but not quite having the presence of mind to argue. Tom closed the door, and you sighed, accepting his deal as you nervously sat to pee, eyes fixed on the handle. He was probably pacing outside, and you tried not to think about how embarrassing this all was as you let your face fall to your hands, trying to scrub away the tears which had begun to itch on your cheeks.

It burned, and you exhaled shakily. You reached to turn on a tap, and hoped Tom couldn’t hear.

Fuck this. Fuck this.

The fogginess of reality was cut through sharply by pain, and the all-consuming ache which seemed to suddenly rage through your entire pelvis, your worry about the unlocked door only adding to the sheer misery this day seemed to have planned for you.

“All okay?” Tom called through the door, shocking you with the reminder of just how close he was.

With a wince you cleared your throat, trying to hide the weakness of your voice as you prepared to reply before he got any big ideas about bursting through that fucking door.

“All good!”

“Good.”

His reply was awkward, too loud and too curt, and you wondered what he was thinking. If he was lamenting some other plans for his day. You heard his footsteps retreat, and turned off the running tap.

The pain in your abdomen had lessened now, the burn finally subsiding, and after a few moments staring into space your head started to clear. A few more litres of cranberry juice, and hopefully it’d be all better.

You always forgot the kind of despair that acute kind of illness seemed to bring, the pain and the weakness. Blinking away the confusion, you washed your hands and face. Tried to fix your hair a little. Brushed your teeth. All those little things fixed, and you started to feel better.

It took you a few more minutes, and one more check-in from Tom, for you to emerge. The kitchen had been cleaned up, the hot water bottle ready to be refilled, and Tom was sat uncomfortably on the sofa – it was obvious he’d just sat down as he heard you approaching.

He jumped to his feet again, not quite sure what to do with his arms, and you wished you knew what was going on behind those widened blue eyes. You should ask, you knew he’d tell you everything straight away.

Tom was never insincere.

The movement of his lips suggested he was trying to word a question, and failing. You put him out of his misery.

“I’m feeling a lot better.”

“I’m glad. That’s good.”

He didn’t believe you, and you could see it. You folded yourself onto the couch, and he moved to refill the hot water bottle. Handing it to you wordlessly he hovered nearby, until you shuffled to indicate he could sit beside you.

It was awkward. Things were never awkward with Tom. His weight beside yours dragged the two of you together, even gravity willing you to reconcile from this strange shift in the atmosphere. You resisted, shuffling a little so you could sit up without touching him, one arm on the sofa as you faced him.

“Sorry for zoning out on you there, I don’t know what happened. I wasn’t trying to be rude.”

His face broke into a quiet relief, and it broke your heart a little.

“You weren’t! I didn’t think you were being rude. You just scared me. I was worried.”

Smiling tightly, you hugged the hot water bottle closer to your torso, enjoying the comfort as much as the pain relief from the warmth. The storm of concern on his face lifted a little as he watched, hearing your quiet, unspoken thank you.

“What have you got planned for the rest of your day?” you asked softly, diverting the conversation.

Tom knew what you were doing, and you saw him bite down a laugh.

“Just looking after this stubborn woman, and not leaving her house until she feels better.”

The mocking was light, undercut by the open fondness in his eyes, and you found yourself warmed by it.

“She sounds like a pain in the arse,” you teased.

“She’s really not. Only when she pretends to be fine when she’s not.”

“Sorry.”

His face dropped, immediately reaching for your hand, and he scrambled to backtrack. You were a horrified as tears sprung to your eyes again, trying to blink them away.

“You know I wasn’t serious. I just worry, I’m sorry.”

He was still reaching for you, one hand on yours and the other gently brushing away your fresh tears, his face close to yours as you shuddered out breaths and tried to form words.

“No, you say anything wrong, I think I’m just feeling a bit…”

“Down?” Tom offered.

“Fragile.”

“Oh, sweetheart.”

You weren’t sure if he opened his arms first, or if you reached for him first. But you were against his chest in a second, head on his shoulder and his arm around you, the hot water bottle displaced as it warmed both of your hips where they were pressed together.

There was comfort in the beating of his heart, in the smell of him and the cologne he’d put on hours ago, in the strength of his arms as they held you to him for the second time that day.

You apologised again against the fabric of his shirt, and he shushed your words.

“You must feel dreadful, love. You’d be well within your rights to tell me to go fuck myself. I think you were very polite, all things considered. Ignoring me was very considerate.”

When he felt you laugh against his chest you could hear Tom’s heart speed up, the rumble of his own chuckle, and you knew the two of you were fine again.

You’d always be fine. The two of you were close like that.

“I’ll remember that for next time,” you teased.

“There won’t be a next time.”

A sombre promise that you’d never get another urinary tract infection was crazy, it didn’t make sense. He was taking far too much accountability, as usual. But you let yourself sink into his confidence, into his comfort. You let yourself believe him.

“You’re so good to me.”

He didn’t say anything, just shuffled you to relax down on the couch, keeping you against him but twisting you. One hand found the hot water bottle and pressed it against your abdomen again, and even when you reached to take it, his hand just stayed there.

It took a few seconds to process that he was spooning you, the solidness of his chest against your back and one hand over your stomach. He was everywhere, against your whole body, warm and smelling amazing, his breath against your neck and his weight pulling you closer to him on the soft cushions.

You wondered if he felt it too. That strange, desperate need to be closer even as you were pressed together. Like you wanted your soul to merge with his, your skin itself to melt together with his.

Maybe you could blame the infection-induced madness for that feeling too.

The pain in your abdomen was barely there anymore, your bladder feeling less raw, the ache no longer acid-sharp. But you knew that was because of him. Because of the warmth and the distraction and his comfort, these stupid endorphins coursing through your veins, and his sweetness in bringing you medicine and sustenance and three fucking cartons of cranberry juice.

“You okay?” he mumbled against your neck.

For a second you couldn’t think of anything except a flash of irrational jealousy. The mere thought he’d held other people like this. That there were nights he might have come home from you and whispered against someone else’s neck, raised goosebumps on their skin, warmed their body.

You had to stop yourself from gasping, wondering where the hell that had come from, a strange brand of anger still burning hot in your chest. You were starting to sweat, from his body heat and the hot water bottle and the infection. Maybe a bit from jealousy.

If Tom noticed, he wasn’t disgusted. He stayed right there. While Tom babied you, you were happy to engage in moping around for a bit.

“They don’t warn you about this bit,” you whispered, “when you sign up to do this shit.”

“This shouldn’t happen,” he consoled, “I thought the studio was better than that. We’ll tighten protocols. I’ll see what we can do to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

You knew he couldn’t see your smile, and you hoped he couldn’t sense the tightness in your chest at this ridiculous seriousness. A worry for your health that surpassed your own concern.

Was that what love was? You hadn’t really thought about it before.

“Risk of the job,” you dismissed.

He grumbled into your hair, his breath ghosting over your neck. You wondered if his eyes were closed. As he minutes passed his head relaxed a little, the position melting, your bodies wax under that quiet, smouldering flame which you shared.

You closed your eyes, focusing on Tom’s steady breaths lulling you to sleep.

*

He was still there when you woke up, a heavy arm over your waist, his hand replacing the fluffy hot water bottle which had fallen to the ground. You could feel the five points of his fingertips on your thin shirt.

You weren’t sure if he was awake, his breathing quiet and even, chest moving against your back even as the two of you had fidgeted in sleep. It was delicious, warm, but your bladder was screaming at you. You realised you probably should have drunk more before napping, that burning sensation returning, and sighed as you started to disentangle yourself from Tom without disturbing him.

He must have been asleep, mumbling in confusion as your form was replaced with cool air against his chest, rolling over and opening his eyes sleepily.

It was early afternoon, the room bathed in light, and he squinted as he murmured your name. His voice was deepened and slurred by his nap, and you tried to soothe him back to sleep as you retreated to the bathroom.

“Go back to sleep, it’s fine.”

He was fully awake, rubbing his eyes, and you sighed. Pausing in the doorframe, you watched as he sat up and looked around to fix you with a stare. He had a fairly extraordinary case of bedhead, red creases from the sofa marking his face, confusion on his face as he woke up.

“Where are you going?”

“I… Tom. Go back to sleep. Don’t worry.”

He blinked, and asked again.

“Where are you going?”

You fixed him with a glare of ‘I don’t want to say it’, but he was too sleepy to understand. He cocked his head in confusion.

“I have to pee again,” you admitted, and Tom clambered to his feet.

For some reason.

He seemed more awake now, stretching to his full height as he strode across the room to you.

“Really? You’re embarrassed about that? How long have we known each other?”

“Why are you following me?”

He paused in the doorway, blinking in confusion at himself, pink creeping up his cheeks.

“Right, sorry.”

You smiled to yourself as you used the bathroom, still wincing from pain but blessedly noting an improvement, staring at your reflection in the mirror as you washed your hands. You weren’t sure when you’d started feeling differently about Tom. You weren’t sure if your relationship had changed, or if it was just in your head.

You were sure that this was new. Something beyond the close friendship you had taken for granted for years. You could get used to the feeling of waking up pressed against him. To being spoilt by him, surprised by his thoughtfulness. You could get used to that desperate sincerity, those blue eyes which saw right through to your soul.

Drying your hands on your sweatpants, you re-entered the living room, seeing Tom’s mop of curls as he sat cross-legged on the sofa, back straight and hands folded in his hands. He seemed sheepish, his position almost child-like as his eyes tracked you across the room, waiting for you to settle somewhere.

There were gears turning in that overactive mind of his, and you perched yourself beside him, waiting for him to speak. Finally he did, the words precise and practiced inside his own mind.

“I’m sorry for just barging in. I don’t know if that was too far, I just wanted to help. I couldn’t go to work alone knowing you weren’t well.”

You couldn’t help smiling. Of course that was what he was worried about.

“Tom, it’s okay. I appreciate your help so much, not many people would do that for me. I’m sorry for being so stubborn.”

He winced, lips pressed into a tight line.

“I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean that.”

“But you were right,” you admitted, “I was being stubborn. I should have just said thank you. So, thank you.”

Tom nodded in acknowledgement, but you knew he hadn’t taken the words in. He kept talking.

“I felt so bad, I knew yesterday was too much. We should’ve taken more breaks. You must be so tired. Or getting sick. Apparently if your immune system is already fighting something off you’re more likely to get ill. And I kept you talking when I should’ve made you to and clean up.”

“You won’t convince me this is your fault, Tom,” you told him lightly, resting on hand on his bent knee.

He stared at your hand for a long second, and you knew he didn’t believe you. You closed your eyes, swallowed, letting your eyes drift across to everything he’d brought. Remembering how he’d dropped everything at the realisation you were sick.

How he wouldn’t take no for an answer until he was with you, helping you. Making sure you were safe. You wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t come over. Would you still be in bed, choking down water and painkillers, debating texting to ask him to bring groceries over?

You couldn’t recall why were so averse to him coming over now. He hadn’t made you feel bad, or weak. He’d been nothing but caring and helpful and, yes, a little overbearing.

But that was part of him. What made Tom, Tom. He put one hand on his thigh, inches from where your thumb rubbed over the inside of his knee, and you took the leap. You laced your fingers which his, staring at how your hands fit together.

“I can’t remember a time anyone was this nice to me. Ever.”

Tom sighed, and you felt a moment of heaviness. A realisation that your life was about to shift. Chapters, ending and beginning. Something new taking root, as Tom met your eyes nervously.

“Then I need to do a better job.”

[painted-crow]

I haven't been on tumblr in a hot century so it feels a little weird to be writing a submission to you... but I just bingeread most of this blog and your way of explaining the shc system is so gloriously comprehensible that I really want to pour my brain out at your feet and have you explain the bits to me.

I hope life is treating you well and thank you for the awesome blog you run. The way you describe things and the way you help people sort themselves is clear and clever and so very kind of you to do, and that's what I appreciates about you. :)

(This was a chunk of a submission from someone who ended up sending in a second version that I answered in depth, but the fan mail portion from this first version was so sweet that it seems mean to just delete it. So here it is, as a #cutie post. 😊)

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

Got a Light? || Dakota and Kaden

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Behind the WCPD Station PARTIES: @dakotasgrant and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY:  Dakota and Kaden run into each other during a much needed nicotine fix.

Paperwork was something straight from hell. Give him a fucking hellhound to go up against any day of the week. That was easy. This? Putain. Kaden was headed out for his third smoke break in the past two hours. No, he checked his watch. One hour. Only one hour? He cursed to himself some more in French before grabbing his coat and telling Gary, “be right back.” Gary seemed both frustrated and relieved to see his co-worker go once again. Kaden started fidgeting with his lighter in his pocket before he even got outside round back of the station. It was cold, but he came out here enough he’d set up a hidden space heater and he knocked it on before leaning against the nearby wall and pulling out his lights and the zippo. Just one cigarette, maybe two and he could clear his head before going back inside. For once he figured it was a good thing he was seeing a little less of Regan, she wouldn’t have to deal with the nicotine on his breath that she definitely hated. As much as he’d cut back, there were moments that dug under his skin and had him outside once more, lighter in hand ready for some brief relief. Paperwork was one of those moments. He flipped open the lighter and flicked the toggle and… nothing. “Putain de merde,” he grumbled to himself, lips moving around the cigarette resting there. He tried again and again, only nothing was working. Just his fucking luck. Truly a sign from the universe to quit. Go inside. Do his damn work. He scuffed his boot on the ground, kicking up a chunk of dirt and rock before letting his head fall back, leaning on the wall behind him as he let out a loud sigh. It was then he heard the heartbeat, realized he wasn’t alone anymore. Shit. He perked up, stood straight and saw the woman across the way, also reaching for a smoke. “Sorry about that,” he said, apologizing for the slight display. Wouldn’t have done it if he didn’t think he was alone. Especially since she sort of looked like she wanted to be left alone. But she might be his only hope. “Uh, hate to ask this,” he said, approaching her, “but you got a light?” 

Fucking hell, why did winter always have to have such a bite to it? She didn’t smoke often—in fact, Dakota usually only picked back up whenever she was stressed… Or bored… Or needed an excuse to step away from her desk, which seemed to be more often than usual since moving to White Crest. Somewhere deep down, which was always far deeper than she cared to go, she knew she’d picked back up because Chris hated this shit, but that was neither here nor there. There was only about an hour or so before she could take lunch and maybe explore a few more places than the last four items on the menu at Al’s Diner, but hell, she’d entombed herself in that lab since 7AM and still couldn’t come up with a logical explanation for why the blood samples collected at the latest crime scene were both normal, biological blood samples and.. Well, something else. Clearly it was tampered evidence, but racking her brain for the last six hours hadn’t done shit and she was starting to get herself pissed off...Clearly time for a cigarette. Dakota had been freezing her ass off for probably the last five minutes, leaning against the cold stone of the building when she’d heard a few footsteps and some muttered French curses. As the kind of person who generally analyzed most scenes—crime or social—she’d already found him familiar before she caught a glimpse of his face. He carried himself differently when he wasn’t trying to start a lighter that was clearly dead, but she found his frustrated mannerisms amusing, even if she’d wandered out back to be alone. “Throwing a bit of a temper tantrum, are we?” she asked with a smirk, retrieving her own lighter from her coat pocket and tossing it in his direction. 

“It wasn’t a temper tantrum, alright,” Kaden grumbled back as he caught the lighter. Sure he’d gotten a little frustrated but it wasn’t a temper tantrum. Putain. He simply sighed, let it lie, and lit his cigarette. He took in a long breath, drawing the nicotine in deep, letting it sit in his lungs a moment before slowly releasing it and breathing it out. “Thanks,” he said before throwing the lighter back to her.  He stood there in silence for a beat, appreciating the nicotine break. He gave her a quick glance and he was sure he’d seen her before but that didn’t mean much. There were a lot of people in and out of this place. Still, he wondered if he was supposed to know who she was. Well, she didn’t have a uniform on so she probably wasn’t a beat cop at least. Then again, he was a cop and wasn’t wearing a uniform. He wanted to assume that if she was a detective, he’d have seen her around more, Styrder would have taught her to poke fun at him. Then again, with the death rate and job turnover in this town, maybe not. Guess there was only one real way to find out. “So, who am I sending my thank you card to? Fair warning it might have some dog and cat hair on it.” 

Ooh, he was touchy. Dakota normally tried to keep her mouth shut whenever someone seemed upset, because nine times out of ten, she liked to push their buttons to see how far she could push them. See, she didn’t like being the center of attention, but she loved riling people up just enough to see if they’d snap—and when they did, it usually left her satisfied as all hell. She let a bout of silence swell between them after he’d thanked her, and let it fester even longer when he mentioned a thank you card. Her expression didn’t change much, rather just her hand lifting to her lips, taking a long drag from her cigarette before blowing the air out. “Are you asking for my address?” she deadpanned. To be fair, Dakota thought it was funny, even though from the second she saw him she’d noticed he was tense as all hell. But… Being a sarcastic little shit was sort of her bread and butter. 

Kaden was about to inhale another round of his cigarette but he stopped to shoot her a look. “Yes. Of course. I want the whole thing, proper zip code and everything,” he shot back in an equal tone. He shook his head and finally took that drag. “I mean you could start with what department you’re in. I know you’re not Animal Control. But that’s about it.” He watched as the smoke left his lips and twisted and floated through the air, mixed with the condensation from his warm breath hitting the cold air. “And possibly a name. I heard it’s a good place to start.” He considered putting his hand out to shake but thought better of it. “Kaden,” he said with a small nod. “Uh, I guess Officer Langley. Depending on-- I mean, you know. Animal Control. In case, uh, you missed that.” It had been almost a year in his job and he still felt like such a fucking fraud saying his title or whatever, at least to other people in the department. Out in the field, he had no problem acting with authority. Those people didn’t know any better. Here? At the station? Some part of him was always going to feel like an imposter.

Kaden was right. She most definitely could start with her department, maybe a name, maybe her affiliation with WCPD. She could be polite and cordial and maybe even start to make a couple friends in this one-horse town. Hell, maybe this kid wasn’t so bad, and maybe if she let her guard down for half a second, she’d think he was decent enough to grab a burger at Al’s at lunch...But where was the fun in that? Being closed off was a part of Dakota’s personality regardless—too many people back home knew all of her business. White Crest was refreshing since nobody knew who the hell she was, so nobody knew her secrets, her business, her likes and dislikes, her habits… Jesus, Kota, go see a damned therapist. Finally taking the last drag of her cigarette and stamping out the ashes against the cool brick of the building, she looked over at him. “Wait, you’re in Animal Control?” She was just having too much fun being a dick. There was a beat of silence, mainly because she wasn’t giving him much to work with—of course, that was always her plan, because then people would leave her the hell alone, but.. He seemed a decent guy, and if they were technically coworkers, he was bound to find out anyway. “Dakota Grant. CSI. I’ve been here for.. What, five months now?” She tucked her hands into her pockets. “This town keeps me far busier than I expected, I’ll give it that.” Another beat. “Animal Control keep you busy? I hear there’s bears.” 

Kaden rolled his eyes and went back to his cigarette. At least she wasn’t calling him Paw Patrol, but he had a feeling it wasn’t far behind. “Yeah. Shocking. I know.” He wasn’t sure right that made her a detective or not if she was already picking on him. It seemed like it was part of the orientation package at this point. Then again,again, maybe he was just an easy target. Hard to say. He inhaled another hit of nicotine and let it slowly release. He half expected the conversation to end, for the quiet to hang in the air between them awkwardly as they stood in the same place, doing the same thing, while very likely working for the same institution. His head jerked to face her as she answered him, nearly coughed out of surprise. “Nice to meet you, Dakota.” Shit, did she go by Grant? Half the department used last names. No, she wasn’t an officer. Was she? Putain. He took a drag of his light and tried not to overthink this more than he really needed to. She wasn’t an authority, she was CSI. Kaden blew out a puff of smoke before adding, “CSI, nice. Guess that explains why we haven’t seen much of one another. You probably worked with my girlfriend, though. Medical examiner?” His heart sunk and his mouth pulled into a thin line as he realized his mistake. Stupid how easy it was to forget, even now. “Well, former medical examiner. For now. She’s on leave. For a few months n-- You know what, never mind.” His cigarette was dangerously low. He was tempted to pull out another but he’d need to bank on her favors again to light it. Better stretch this one out as long as possible, then. “Anyway, yeah. Not surprised you’re busy. Whole WCPD is. And the morgue. But yeah, bears are the easiest things on my list some days.”

Wow, this dude really seemed to be an open book—not just for his own shit, but apparently his girlfriend’s as well. Medical examiner, huh? Maybe this guy would end up being a nice contact to have after all. Dakota’s perked up a bit at the comment about the bears—she wasn’t terrified of ‘em, and she sure as shit wasn’t afraid to shoot one, but.. The prospect of being put in the situation to do so did stress her out. “You know what they say, your chances of being mauled to death are pretty low, but never zero.” Dakota deadpanned, tucking her hands back into her pockets. The longer she stayed out here, the more she realized maybe she hadn’t crawled out of that cave just for a cigarette and maybe some fresh air—she needed the sunlight. And, so it seemed, a little conversation wasn’t terrible after all. More silence filled the gaps in their conversation before she let out a little sigh, looking Kaden over a bit. His body language bore stress and.. Anxiety, maybe? All she knew was that he seemed downright annoyed about something. And upset about something, maybe. But she’d been wrong before. “You can talk about it. Your girlfriend issue, if you want. I’m just a stranger having a cigarette.” she offered.

Kaden had to bite back a laugh. “Well mine are definitely never zero.” Little did she know. He came close to being mauled, what? At least once a month. Maybe more. The perks of being a hunter and Animal Control. Which, speaking of, he should probably head back inside, get back to the fucking paperwork. Putain, he didn’t want to think about that. Not yet. There was still some of his cigarette worth smoking. He wasn’t sure about conversations worth having but guess he was having them anyway. “Right. I don’t have a girlfriend issue,” he said simply after a long, slow, exhale of smoke. That was underselling it. But what the fuck was he going to say? Oh yeah, my girlfriend? She quit her job to go train in the woods to learn how to suppress her emotions and is just ritualistically torturing herself and occasionally exploding animals with her voice. And now she’s afraid to touch me or be around me because she thinks she might explode me with her voice. Yeah, that’d be fine. Really great topic of conversation. “She’s just in a rough spot right now. That’s all. So you know, just don’t go looking for her in the morgue right now. That was my point.” It was one thing to dump his issues on a stranger but he wasn’t about to unload Regan’s. 

The wind wasn’t fierce, but it was just cold enough to start to make her nose and cheeks feel numb. Fucking winter. Dakota had to admit that Kaden seemed to have a strong opinion on getting mauled, but she figured that was just because he was with Animal Control. “You get a lot of calls, then? Lots of lost puppies, saving kittens from trees?” she tried to joke, despite her sense of humor being quite literally.. Well, awful. Bringing up his girlfriend—Oof. Touchy subject. Note to self, don’t talk to this dude about his relationship issues. “Kavanagh, right? Replaced by Rickers. I’ve gone through some of the old records downstairs and… I mean, her autopsies are seamless. They’re textbook perfect. She’s a damn good examiner, I’ll give her that, but… Sometimes her determinations don’t make any sense given the collected evidence. I mean, some of them don’t even match up with the correlating investigation. You think she’s got some good dirt on a massive scandal in this town?” That’s right, Dakota. The man could have built a physical brick wall around the subject, and you still push. “Just curious, I suppose. Wouldn’t be an investigator if I didn’t ask.”

“Yeah, yeah. Lost puppies and cats in trees. Among other things. It does actually happen, believe it or not. Cats in trees. Ban--” Kaden covered up the last word with a cough. Best not to say banshee to a stranger. “Girlfriends, too, apparently. That wasn’t exactly on duty, though,” he said with a small shrug. “But yeah, there’s lots of calls. Never a dull moment. And a lot of aggressive animals in this place.” Kaden gave a small nod, as he swapped which hand held his cigarette so that he could warm his other hand again. “That’s the one. And Rickers didn’t replace her. For the record. Her position is still open, they used to work together.” He probably came off a little too snappy at that. But he kept close tabs on that position. He needed it to be waiting for her when she was ready to be a person again, whenever that was. Fuck, she needed it more than he did. So far, so good. Lucky for her, most people didn’t like to be drowning in quite as much work as she did. “She’s really fucking smart, yeah. Too fucking smart for me, that’s for sure. And good at her job. Great, even.” 

Kaden took the last drag he could manage of his cigarette before tossing the butt on the ground and snuffing it out with the heel of his boot. “This town is dangerous. And a lot of weird shit happens here. But I pro--” The word caught in his throat. He had a feeling Dakota wasn’t fae, but it was always better to be safe than sorry. Still, he cleared his throat and tried again. “I can assure you whatever Regan put in her reports is exactly as she saw it. And if she had any dirt, it’d be reported faster than your heartbeat.” That said, Regan didn’t see everything in this town for what it was. He wasn’t sure if he should clue Dakota in or leave her to her blissful ignorance. He wished he could have some of his own. But being unaware in this town? It was dangerous. He shifted in his spot, deciding how many cards to lay on the table. “You should be ready for anything here. But I bet you figured that out if you read some of the cases coming out of White Crest.” 

“Look, man, I’m not trying to say anything bad about Kavanagh. I’m just saying some of her rulings are just.. Weird, you know? Some of them don’t make sense. Not when you corroborate it with toxicology reports and the forensic evidence and what the detectives pieced together…” Dakota trailed off, scuffing her boot against the concrete and pieces of gravel, just for something to do. “I don’t doubt she’s smart as hell. I’m just saying they don’t make sense, and if she has any information I’m missing, then I’d really like to talk to her.” 

Kaden definitely seemed jaded about this town. Dakota still didn’t have a good idea as to why, but if her entire career was running around chasing animals and getting in close calls with the aggressive wildlife every other day, maybe she’d be just as jaded as well. But it was a certain tone in his voice that made her think there was something more -- like he was trying to tell her something without explicitly saying it, but she’d been known to overthink things like this, so perhaps she could be wrong. But.. When was she ever really wrong about things like this? 

“You seem to have some type of disdain towards White Crest. I’m not saying it’s Paris, but I don’t necessarily think anything’s wrong with the place. Wanna elaborate on why you’re so…” she gestured vaguely to his all-over stance and slight hint of attitude. “--About it?”

Kaden couldn’t hold back the laugh that blurted its way out. Queen of the Nile Kavanagh was the last person to clue Dakota in on what she was missing. “Sorry, didn’t mean to laugh at you. But this place is just fucking weird. If you can’t handle that you might want to pack in your bags now. Probably best to just accept that and let it lie.” He placed his hand back in his pocket, desperate for another smoke to occupy his hands. “But you can go ahead and talk to her if you want.” He settled for flipping the dud lighter open and closed in his pocket instead. Not as good. “First off, I’m from Lyon not Paris, thanks,” he said with almost a huff. “Disdain,” he repeated, like he was mulling the word over like a fine wine. Was that the right word? “Not sure that’s it. It’s complicated.” His eyes darted away as he tried to place his feelings. “Like I fucking said, this place is weird. It’s a hard town to live in. Not for everyone. And if the death rate’s any indication, not a whole lot of people make it out of here alive. It’ll turn your whole world upside down. For better or worse.” He shrugged before pushing off the wall he was leaning against. Probably time to head back inside soon enough. “That answer your question?”

Kaden’s ominous warnings about White Crest didn’t leave her uneasy, but she did find them quite confusing. It reminded her of something she’d heard in one of her father’s meetings near the end -- 

Here lies a Hampshire Grenadier / Who caught his death / Drinking cold small beer. / A good soldier is ne'er forgot / Whether he dieth by musket / Or by pot. 

A doggerel that served as an unpromising deterrent. She was too young to really understand then, but as Kaden was speaking, Dakota couldn’t help but remember it now. But if he hated the place so much, which he seemed to by the way he was speaking, then why didn’t he just leave? “I guess that answers my question. But I have just one more, unless you have to get back to your all-important paperwork.” she said, clearing her throat before continuing. “Are you saying that if I don’t pack up my bags and skip town, I’m more likely to die here -- or at least die trying to get out?” 

It was tempting to cross his arms, lean back, and look down his nose at her, like he was doing her some kind of favor by taking her final question. Instead, Kaden simply rolled his shoulders back and gave her a small nod. “Not necessarily.” He let out a sigh, wishing it was another puff of smoke after a good hit. It was just his breath visible in the air. “I said what I said. This place will change you before you change it. That much I fucking know.” He couldn’t name one person he knew, not one who he was close to, hell not even anyone he didn’t even care for, who wasn’t left untouched by White Crest. The town wrapped its roots around people and pulled them down deep into this earth. Even if you broke away, pulled yourself out of the dirt, something was left behind, changed. He felt it in his bones. “It’s not all bad.” There were people he relied on more than he wanted to admit to himself let alone a near stranger. He’d almost call them family in a way. Maybe. He wasn’t sure yet. “But it’s tough. No shame in admitting you can’t handle it. But you should probably figure that out sooner than later. That’s all.” 

Dakota simply just listened -- which usually wasn’t something she did, because she always had her opinions and always made them abundantly clear to anyone that listened, because… Well, she liked to think she was always right. Even when she was wrong. But the conversation had went from getting to know some kid in her department to being forewarned about the town she’d just moved to, and that wasn’t necessarily something she’d take lightly. If she didn’t know better, it almost sounded like he was telling her to be careful around this place -- This place will change you before you change it. Something sort of hard to accept for someone who more or less wanted to make the world a better place, one little town like White Crest at a time. The two of them sat in silence for a moment, Dakota’s arms still crossed over her chest before she cleared her throat, just one more time, then nodded towards the back entrance. He’d given her some things to think about, that was for sure, though she wasn’t certain she’d heed his warning. Besides, how terrible could a town be when murders were being solved left and right, regardless of the weird rulings? One thing she did know was that she needed to talk to Kavanagh about her rulings, and go from there. “Right. Probably should get back to work, yeah?” 

[thistangledbrain]

Ok y’all, I’m sorry I’m having to catch up! We got a new foster in a few days ago - a particularly broken soul - and my mind has been *entirely* on him. But he’s settling in a little now, so here’s the last 3 days in one post ☺️

Autism Acceptance Month

Day 10!

“Sensory Life”

This is sort of hard to describe, but I’ll try! This is different from the next entry about stims, though both are sensory related.

It’s like being on microdosed ‘shrooms *all the time*. If you don’t know what that’s like, I’ll try to describe (this is collaborated with a friend who regularly does this - I don’t...it would probably be far too overwhelming).

Colors are far sharper to me & I emotionally react to them far more than most people. That results in some colors being genuinely offensive - not just “I don’t like that color”, but it will make me intensely angry or physically sick. This makes me curious about chromotherapy, but I haven’t really looked into it that much. My tolerance of certain colors can ebb and flow depending on my emotional state/mindset. (This crap is so sharp, I’m actually getting a twinge of irritation just *thinking* about my most hated colors LOL 😂 🤦🏻‍♀️)

Textures/skin sensations are another big one. (By now you may be asking, how TF did this chick manage Marine Corps training/exercises?!) I guess if you want something bad enough, you can shut down some of the overwhelming aspects of the sensory thing...this ability to disassociate probably isn’t what NT’s would call “healthy”, but it’s quite handy if you’re autistic, and those of us who have been through real trauma seem to be especially skilled with our ability to just shut off all circuits and “embrace the suck”). Like...I’ll nearly panic to get out of a store or something if my underwear starts feeling uncomfortable, but I’ve literally been soaked head to toe, covered in mud and sand in my *everywhere* (and I HATE SAND anywhere but on my feet) AND I pissed myself, because nobody’s gonna stop shooting/training just because you have to go potty 🙄), and I remember literally giving zero fucks about it...so it really is entirely a mindset thing. But let’s talk about when I’m NOT in “Marine mode” (cuz let’s face it, it’s been close to two decades since I got out, and I no longer HAVE to tolerate overwhelming sensations).

Sensory input is just basically dialed to 11 & the knob’s been snapped off. Bright lights, loud discordant noises, too much touching/not touching the right way, things like that. I am particularly sensitive about body hair (my own). I *strongly* prefer to have my head shaved on the back and sides (but I leave the top long). The only time I haven’t done this, was in the Marines (it was considered “eccentric” and not allowed, so they made me grow it out). Even though I leave the main part long, it’s *always* in a bun or ponytail - well, unless I’m super dressed up for something, but even then I prefer some sort of updo. Despite the fact that I like my long hair (well on the top anyway), I can’t *stand* the way it feels on my neck or especially my face - I HATE IT when my hair touches my face. If I wasn’t married...there’s a decent chance I’d just shave it all off and be done with it LOL 😆 My ponytail pulled through the back of a baseball hat is I guess what they’d call my “signature look”.

And you think NT’s have bad misophonia? *I’ve jumped out of a moving vehicle before* to get away from the noise of someone chewing loudly/smacking their lips in the back seat (he was a coworker and punching him in the mouth - which is what I DESPERATELY wanted to do - would have gotten me fired 😕)...but humans eating, or dogs licking their junk, makes me want to crawl out of my own skin. It’s mostly humans though....you have *no idea* the level of self discipline it takes to keep me from either rage crying or actually getting violent around someone smacking their mouth during a meal. I *cannot* be around my husband when he’s eating breakfast cereal even though he’s a very mannered eater - I don’t know why, but it’s *so loud* (and I’m terribly hard of hearing) - it sounds like he’s chewing rocks. It took us years to work this problem out LOL - he thought it was dumb that I had such a deeply emotional reaction. Then he tried to “chew quietly”, which all that did was slow down the rock tumbler inside his mouth 😂...gradually, for everyone’s sanity, we realized that cereal eating should not be done in close proximity to each other lololol....and now, when it’s time for family meals around the table, I’ve learned to either keep the range hood fan going (white noise is definitely my friend), or have the TV on. If it’s just mainly the sound of everyone chewing, I simply won’t eat at the table. I lose my appetite. (And all of my dinner guests/family are very polite diners. It’s MY hangup.) Phone calls are another big one. I could probably come up with several reasons why I hate it...I LOATHE it. This is one sensory hangup some people in my family just refuse to accept. I don’t think they realize I equate unexpected or immediately demanded phone calls to running naked though a mall or getting a root canal. Hissssssssss!! Give me some time to prepare myself for this shit please - you’re actually asking a *lot* from me. (And when I do have a call? Ugh I babble and am so awkward, because I’m so effing uncomfortable, which I also hate.)

But here’s an area where my “sensory overload” serves me very well:

Dogs.

I am usually *intensely* dialed into the energy and body language of an animal, but particularly dogs. I’m *so* sensitive to them, that I often actually can feel things even happening behind my back - can basically sense the energy in the area shift. (Roughly 75% of the time. I’m spacey sometimes too LOL.) The work I do with “behaviorally challenged” dogs is the biggest area where I am *grateful* for my autistic mind. I don’t think I could really do the things I do without it, successfully. (I can do this to a large degree with people as well, as can my youngest son. You cannot lie to that boy about your feelings or mood.)

We all have different levels of sensory sensitivity and different triggers, but every autistic I know has several “sensory hangups”. It often is one of our biggest hurdles to deal with, when it comes to “normal functioning”. So, many of us constantly have headphones (or muffs) on, some of us wear sunglasses *all the time*, etc (I wear a baseball hat - and I genuinely don’t like going anywhere where I have to get dressed up and can’t wear my hat. Been like that since my early teens. That hat shields me from all sorts of real and imagined sensory triggers.) You do what you can to mitigate, you know? But my “microdosing shrooms” and “knob dialed to 11 and snapped off” is really the best way I can summarize. (And that’s not all bad - my trips into a new natural space, like the redwoods, is an absolute *thrill*. I also occasionally love sensory overload - many auties do - like rollercoasters. My youngest son and I can ride till we pass out LOL!) So sensory life is love/hate, really....but I don’t think I’d change much about it.

Except the fucking misophonia. I hate that I go into almost a murderous rage over someone just chewing food loudly 🤦����‍♀️ - but seriously. It’s impolite anyway. Don’t do it. 😆

———————————————————

Day 11!

Stims

This is one of the biggest areas where neurotypicals struggle to understand us.

We all have stims. Stims are basically any stimulus that brings us joy or comfort. It could be rocking, flapping, walking in tight little circles, clicking your fingernails together, spinning, making weird sounds or whistling, etc. And it’s usually repetitive - that’s the part that gets on people’s nerves.

I’ve found that most *women* hide most of our stims. We only let go and stim our little hearts out when we’re alone. I do that, because some of my stims grate on my husband. Sometimes I don’t WANT to feel “watched” anyway...I’ve noticed males don’t have quite the same issue with that.

I have quiet stims I do to soothe myself, and happy stims. One of my quieter stims when I’m trying to soothe myself (like in public) is clicking my teeth, particularly my right canines. I also have this silicone bite stick I wear around my neck sometimes, that I chew on (my sons like the bite sticks as well). I carry a little bag of fidget toys in my purse, to soothe myself with when I’m stressed. There’s a thing sort of like a fidget cube, a little cowrie shell and twine bracelet that I fiddle with almost like a rosary, a small stuffed axolotyl (her name is Blossom), and a few other toys. My little stash also comes in damn handy when I encounter a bored child LOL!

One of my sons makes funny little sound effects randomly (and he’s grown & still does it). The other used to randomly shriek when he was younger - then he learned how to whistle, so he couldn’t say a whole sentence without punctuating it with little whistles (we actually thought it was adorable).

My favorite stim is putting my headphones on, putting on some favorite music, sitting with my legs crossed, closing my eyes, and rocking. I’m happy to TELL you about this stim, but it’s one I do alone, because I like to get completely lost in it and I can’t do that if I feel I’m being watched...and you’ll damn near give me a heart attack if you touch me while I’m lost in that world. (And boy does it irritate me to get yanked out of that before I’m ready, for some bullshit non emergency reason.) Better to just isolate myself (except my dogs are always with me). Another one I do alone - and I have no idea why i like it so much - is squeaking my bite stick across my teeth. (This one is weird to me because I usually HATE my teeth being touched...yes dentists are a problem.) This one I enjoy doing kind of mindlessly while I read, but damn would it irritate anyone in listening distance LOL...I mean, it would irritate the shit out of ME if someone else was doing it, because *other people’s* repetition, especially if it makes noise, gets on my damned nerves. 🙄 Figures lmao!

Stims can be damaging sometimes, though. Like I used to twist and twirl my hair when I was younger so much that the areas I usually grabbed were frayed and broken (I also chewed my hair sometimes). One stim I cannot break myself of even though sometimes it’ll make me bleed, is chewing the insides of my cheeks or my lips. That’s my most frequent (several times a day) one, and the one that is both gratifying *and* soothing. It’s also the one that’s hardest to suppress.

Some auties are either unaware or literally don’t care how you feel about their stims, but I am and do. I’d like to think I’m pretty “appropriate” *most* of the time with my stims and other people around, except the lip/cheek chewing. If my husband notices I’ve gotten pretty furious about it (even using my hand to push my cheek into optimal biting position), he’ll gently put his hands on mine to bring me back to awareness - if I’m gnawing away, I’m either super stressed or way lost in thought. Either way, I can accidentally hurt myself, so he gently guides me away/distracts me.

Stimming is an important part of Autie life and should not be discouraged unless it hurts Your Pet Autie ™️.

And if you’re looking for a neat gift for an Autie? They actually make stim toy packs. Get them one, they’re fun. ☺️ (Most stim toys are designed to withstand being put in mouths and bitten/chewed, too - LOTS of us have oral fixations.) And hey, even if you’re a NT, try stimming sometime (lots of normal people have stims, they just don’t realize that’s what they are - like nail biting. Bite your nails a lot? Get a bite stick!! God they’re so satisfying!)....

Happy stimming!

———————————————-

Day 12!

“Favorite Autism Charity”

This one is short and easy: ASAN. Autism Self Advocacy Network.

“The Autistic Self Advocacy Network is a nonprofit organization run by and for individuals with autism. According to its mission statement, the Network’s goal is ‘to empower autistic people across the world to take control of our own lives and the future of our common community, and seek to organize the autistic community to ensure our voices are heard in the national conversation about us.’”

————————————————-

Day 13!

“Family”

Well that’s kinda ambiguous, isn’t it? 😒

I’ll start with this tack:

Being an autistic mom with autistic kids.

I mean for years, none of us KNEW LOL - and maybe that’s what took me so long to get around to pursuing a formal diagnosis for my youngest. To me, for the longest time, he was just sensitive and different like me (same with my oldest, for the most part, but I’m pretty sure that was me buying into the “brilliant people are just fucking weird ok” mindset also), yannow? So it was like, “well mama always told me I’d have one like me & then know what I put her through” 🙄 My oldest got lumped into the “all bright kids are quirky” category - but as I learned about ASD through my youngest and myself, it became damn obvious the oldest was also in our camp. (He’s taken the prelim test now anyway, but is not formally diagnosed.) I genuinely believe that our “shared weirdness” binds us very tightly to each other - and I’m super pleased about that.

It brought a whole new level of understanding and awareness within our little family when we realized it was ASD I guess - and acceptance. (I 100% believe that diagnosis - or even affirmation - is critical to our self acceptance and understanding.) I wouldn’t trade my little family for anything, and consider myself remarkably blessed. I can talk about how complex and brilliant my boys are ALL day (and often do LOL). Hubby is neurodivergent, and can identify with (or at least sympathize with) MANY of our hangups....but he’s “normal” enough that he’s been able to guide us (mostly me) with things like how to use tact (not often a skill we naturally possess lmao). My heart breaks when I read posts by auties whose families either don’t understand or don’t accept them & are constantly trying to basically mute who they are. Auties “live out loud”, and some people find that off putting. I know growing up, I was constantly getting my ass chewed for being “dramatic” or too sensitive, too, so I shut down and hid my sensitivity far, far away. I’m only *lately* (last few years) discarding that silly tough girl mask. (I can still be quite the little wolverine at times, but I’m not afraid to show my soft sensitive actual self anymore...to stay soft in today’s fucked up world takes actual courage - a lot of it - and strength. I was looking at the concept of being “strong” entirely the wrong way.)

I swear my husband has lived with nearly as many phases and facets, as years we’ve been together. Sometimes I ask him if this ever bothers him. He says no, because who I am at my core never changes...and he grins and says “and you damn sure aren’t boring” 😂

But since I’ve known I’m autistic, I’ve given myself more freedom to discover who I am without these socially dictated parameters. And permission to be precisely who I am, without cringing apologies when the real me shines through awkwardly.

And my husband and boys have been there every step of the way, embracing me, as we do with them. ♥️

Yeah. I love my family. We’re some pretty cool people. 😁

[s1cparvism4gna]

PuNK

WARNINGS: SMUUUUT, cursing

Pairings: Rafe Adler x OC

Tags: @desertvvitch , @courtenbae , @tiecladartist

Author’s Note: I’m now going to be posting my fic chapters on this blog instead of the other. As always, let me know if you’d like to be tagged 💕 enjoy! 😉

Chapter 6

Lyric’s POV

The next week at work was… strange to say the least. First of all, I’d never been so well rested. Second, I had gotten a call from the dive bar that some fancy guy came in and bought all the Floral and Fading tee shirts. All of them. ‘Who needs 150 band tees? That are the same….’ I thought. I tried not to think much of it but we made a lot of money from it. Enough to get groceries and laundry done and enough to splurge on getting my nails done for Italy (which I still couldn’t believe I was even going!). The third reason, which was the strangest of them all, was Rafe. He was acting weird. And by weird, I mean he’d been smiling more and saying his morning greetings pleasantly. Instead of yelling bloody murder when he asked things of me, he’d temporarily step out of his office to physically look at me and pose his questions. And he’d say things like “please” or “would you mind”.... I was almost convinced he’d been abducted by aliens and replaced with a clone. He would let me go home early, he would extend my lunch breaks, and he even invited me to join him at lunch. On more than one occasion. To which I immediately but politely declined. It was too much too soon. It felt like a trap.

By the time Thursday rolled around, I had everything packed to go. The air in the office was as normal as always. Everyone was tired and complained about how shitty their morning was. Everyone but my coworker Winter who was solely interested in Rafe and I’s upcoming trip to Italy. But for all the wrong reasons…

“I just think he might have a little crush on you is all.” She said, scribbling in her journal and typing up something in her computer. I snorted rather loudly as I sipped on my coffee.

“That’s bullshit if I ever heard it—”

“Just hear me out!” She exclaimed, low enough for only the two of us to hear. She stood from her desk and scuttled over to sit on the edge of mine. I leaned back into my seat, legs crossed and lips pursed to keep myself from bursting into laughter.

“Please. I would love to hear your reasoning.” I said, awaiting her answer as if I was waiting for the punchline of a joke to kick in. She pushed her blonde hair behind her ears and leaned towards me.

“First of all, it’s really not that far off. He relies on you to get shit done around here. If you weren’t here, he’d be a wreck, this office would be a mess, and half of us would lose our jobs. Two! You haven’t even seen how he’s been looking at you lately—”

“He doesn’t see me—” I interrupted briefly, tugging on the collar of my light pink turtleneck and sipping my coffee.

“Bullshit. The other day when you two were in a meeting, you got up to do something for Mr. Ackles and I looked up for a split second, glanced in the conference room…. I swear to God, he could not stop staring at you. I mean everywhere you moved in the room, his eyes were on you.” She said to me. I crinkled my brows and opened my mouth to refute but truthfully I didn’t know what to say.

“I’m his assistant! He’s probably making sure that I don’t fuck up—” She made a face for me to shut up. So I tilted my head as she continued.

“And let's be real about this: we can not act like he’s not the most attractive man in the building.” She winked at me, looking around to make sure he wasn’t around. She wasn’t wrong. Rafe was very attractive. I just never stared long enough to be under his thrall. And I never would. He was much too uptight for me. “Ricki, look. You’re 32. You’re not gonna get any younger. And that punk act you’ve got going on isn't gonna last forever.” I scoffed, trying my best not to be offended. I put blood, sweat, tears, money, and sleep loss into my musical career.

“Wow…” I laughed, blinking at her a bit.

“Not saying that you won’t make it but… isn’t that type of music generally for the younger crowd?” She asked me. She wasn’t really helping herself.

“Keep on callin’ me old, Winter….” I warned her in a half joking tone.

“I just think that if it turns out that he really does like you, you’d be stupid to not at least try it out—”

“Okay, you know what? I don’t care how he looks at me. The man dramatically spits out coffee if it’s not the right temperature. Why do I need that kinda stress in my life?”

“Because he’s rich.”

“I don’t care about that. He’s a shitty person.” I said simply, ending the conversation as I grabbed a file from behind her and opened it to read. She gave a frustrated sigh and crossed her arms, looking at me in disappointment. I glanced up from the file and she was still standing there. “Was that all?” I asked in a slightly bitchy tone. She shook her head.

“You’re unbelievable.” She said, smacking the back of my head playfully and sitting at her desk.

“Unbelievably SICK!” I retorted, flipping her off momentarily and she chuckled. Just then, Rafe came stalking into the office.

“Good morning, Mr. Adler!” Winter greeted, like the kiss ass she tended to be. But he ignored her.

“Ms. Lewis, could you meet me in my office please?” He asked as he quickly walked by.

“Yes s-” Before I could even finish my answer, his door slammed shut. I blinked, unsure of what to even think. He was happy all week… ‘I hope he’s still happy…’ I thought as I stood. Winter and I exchanged glances and I entered his office. He was scarily quiet, his hands gripping onto the edge of his desk until his knuckles were white. His briefcase laid sprawled out on the floor; I assumed he tossed at the couch and it didn’t make it. I carefully closed the door behind me and walked towards his desk. Once again, I couldn’t help but ask. I rested my hands on one of the seats in front of his desk and crossed my ankles, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“Are you okay?” I asked. He gave a deep sigh before curling his fingers into fists and punched the desk for a second. I jumped at the sudden noise as he sat down.

“No, Lyric. I’m not okay. I was but not anymore.” He answered through gritted teeth.

“What happened?” I sat down in the seat I was leaning on, smoothing out my skirt as he paced behind his desk. He began with a huff, already seeming more irritable the more he dwelled on it.

“Tell me… have you been keeping up with Samuel by any chance?”He asked as calmly as possible. I gave a nervous chuckle.

“What- do you think we keep tabs on each other like teenagers?” I answered. Truthfully, I hadn’t seen him in a very long time. I was almost disappointed. Almost. Rafe’s cheeks seemed to turn a faint pink for a moment as his poker face faltered a bit.

“No, no- I just…. I figured since you two were so close in the office that maybe you kept in touch...” he replied in a boyish tone.

“Are you jealous?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood a bit clearly he wasn’t feeling it.

“Lyric, please… This is serious.” His tired green eyes locked with mine and I could immediately see that whatever the problem was was truly stressing him out. So I gave him a break.

“No. I haven’t heard from him.” I told him. He hummed at my answer and scratched at the stubble that attempted to appear on his chin. “Rafe, what’s going on?” I asked, beginning to feel concerned. He seemed to be doing a few breathing exercises before he answered.

“It seems that some of my research has gone missing.” He said, holding onto the back of his seat for dear life.

“And you think Sam took it?” I asked.

“Well he is a thief, after all… I wouldn’t put it past him.” he grumbled, putting his head in his hands. My eyes widened.

“No shit.”

“Yes shit. He didn’t just magically come out of thin air. I…” he paused to carefully choose his words. “I bailed him out.”

“Oh. Shit…. How long was he in for?” I asked. I couldn’t believe it.

“14 years…” he replied, running his fingers through his hair.

“For stealing?! What did he steal?! The Hope Diamond?!”

“Oh no he uh…. he killed a guard on the inside.” He mumbled.

“HE WHA- he what?!” I snapped.

“Yeah. Congratulations. You were flirting with a murderer.” He said in a sassy tone. I chuckled and denied it.

“No… I wasn’t...flirting-”

“You were just being friendly?” He said. I smirked at him.

“Oh piss off!” I said, playfully hitting his forearm. I half expected him to look at me like I was crazy but he just smiled small and huffed in frustration, resting his forehead on his desk.

“Ugh this is the fucking worst…” he said. “I bet he’s on his way to Italy for that cross now.”

“Okay cool- but it’s an auction. Last I checked he was broke as hell and the security will be so tight…. So don’t worry about it, okay?” I said, calmly. He searched my eyes for a moment and nodded. His shoulders dropped and he seemed a bit more at ease. I put a comforting hand over his and ran my thumb over his knuckles. “It’ll be fine. We are going to go to Italy, sip some wine, eat some pizza, and get all dressed up for this auction. And you’re going to walk out of the estate with this cross. I’m manifesting it. I am putting it into the ether.” I said as positively as possible. His eyes never left mine and his grip had tightened a little in my hand.

“Of all the fine cuisine that Rome has to offer, you still want... pizza?” He chuckled in amusement.

“Of course! I want real Italian pizza, okay? With melted mozzarella and fresh tomato sauce and all the seasonings! Not one from down the street...or a frozen box.” I said and the look he gave me shocked me. His eyes seemed to trace over every feature of my face and his cheeks faintly blushed again. For a second I began to wonder if this is what Winter saw. This look that he was giving me right now. That shy look of longing. He smiled and retrieved his briefcase, sitting it on his desk as he avoided my gaze.

“Very well. I’m sure there’s a decent pizzeria around.” He said, taking a seat.

“Yes!” I exclaimed as I stood to leave. “So remember! Don’t worry. You’ve got this all under control.” I said, backing out of the office. And with that, I went back to my own desk. I sat down with a sigh. I couldn’t shake the look he’d given me. I suddenly hated Winter for making me notice it. Something about him was no doubt changing and I was interested to see what. I sipped on my coffee and continued to work until the day was out.

Finally, it was time to go. I pulled my suitcase from under my desk and dragged it to sit next to me. The office had gone home for the day and my last order of business was to leave Winter instructions on what to do in our absence. I was literally shaking with excitement. I’d never been anywhere outside the country before. I couldn’t wait for a bit of warm weather. I was freezing my ass off here. Rafe seemed to keep his cool since I talked to him last and to be completely honest, I was glad about it. The last thing we needed was his temper on a whole 9 hour flight. After a while, he appeared from his office and closed his door behind him with a tired smile.

“You ready?” He asked me. I shot up from my seat and threw on my trench coat, making sure I had everything together.

“Absolutely!” I grinned.

“Allow me.” He said, lifting the handle of my suitcase and dragging it along behind him. I was surprised at him. I always knew he was a gentleman but I’d never been on the receiving end of it before.

We walked to the elevator that took us to the rooftop and waiting for us, on and ready, was the big white company plane. I stopped for a second as I watched Rafe board the plane to just appreciate the experience I was about to have. “Are you coming or are you just gonna stand there?!” I suddenly heard Rafe shout to me above the deafening engines, tearing me from my thoughts. I nodded and ran towards the plane, trying not to twist my ankles in the tall heels on my feet. He stretched out a hand to me and helped me up the small flight of stairs. We were greeted by the pilot and a stewardess and shown to what was pretty much a lounge on this plane. The interior of it all was absolutely gorgeous. There were lavish beige recliner seats and a couch to match. Portable desks were made cherry oak with golden cup holders and the carpets were a deep wine red with gold accents. Red curtains covered the windows and there were even decorative pillows and blankets— everything was made to match. When I sat down, the stewardess came in and immediately began asking us if we wanted food or drinks… or alcoholic beverages.

“We’ll take dinner here.” Rafe answered before I could even open my mouth. “I’m sure you’re starving by now, right?”

“Uh… yeah.” I whispered, shedding my jacket and sitting on the couch.

“What do you want?”

“What would you recommend?” I asked, truly unsure of what I wanted.

“Jack back there makes this roasted garlic chicken with vegetables that’s just… magic.” He chef’s kissed the air and I widened my eyes with a giggle, sitting back in my seat. I’d never seen Rafe so expressive.

“Well then I’ll have that!” I smiled. I watched him grin as he began loosening his tie, undoing a few buttons and rolling up the sleeves of his collared shirt, putting in an order for a seasoned fish and potatoes.

“Very good, sir. May I get the two of you started on drinks?”the stewardess asked.

“Chateau Margaux Red, in a chilled glass please.” He answered, opening and reaching into his briefcase to pull out a few folders and a pen. Then she turned to me.

“And for you, miss?” She asked with a kind smile.

“Um…. whiskey?” I answered vaguely.

“Is there a brand you prefer?”

“Um….. no. I usually just order whiskey and I get... whiskey.” I giggled nervously, scratching my head. In the corner of my eye, I could see Rafe smile a little, his shoulders bouncing from a light chuckle.

“Get her a glass of Glenfiddich.”He said and the two nodded at each other in agreement.

“Two glasses…. maybe three.” I corrected him and he laughed again.

“Yes,ma’am. I’ll be back shortly. We should be in the air in about 10 minutes.” She told us as she gave me a smile. I returned it and sat back on the couch, my fingers tapping on the arm. I was nervous about flying, I’d never flown before. But I couldn’t let him know that.

“You okay?” He asked suddenly.

“Yeah…. just… really want a cigarette…”

“Hmph. I didn’t know you smoked.” He said casually.

“Uh yeah…. I’m tryin’ to quit.” I mumbled.

“Well good. That shit does fuck all for your lungs anyway.” He said and I nodded with a smile. He just kept on surprising me. Ever since we left the office, it was like he’d become a different person. I’d never heard him swear so much leisurely. “So um, I still have a bit of work to do before we touchdown in Italy. I’m gonna have my earpiece in so—”

“Of course! I can be quiet.” I chimed. He just chuckled.

“After dinner, Lyric.” He smiled.

“I knew that.” I mumbled in embarrassment.

Just as the stewardess said, we were in the air in no time and starting our flight to Rome. We held a light conversation over dinner, sort of like an ice breaker. Contrary to what I originally thought, he was actually kind of funny. Or “punny” rather. We talked about work, people in the office, how he couldn’t stand his meetings with certain people and we had a list of them that we both agreed were the absolute worst people; for similar reasons too. Afterwards, he delved into his work and I curled up on the couch, playing a few games on my phone as I listened to music, continuously drinking glasses of whiskey until I couldn’t feel my face. I couldn’t help but take a few glances at him as he worked though. The veins in his forearms that bulged as he scribbled on papers and the sharp angle of his jaw as he threw his head back when he was exhausted or frustrated was hypnotizing to say the least. The muscles in his chest making themselves present beneath his collared shirt and vest, the few strands of hair that tended to fall out of place by the end of the workday, his striking green eyes… ‘Stop it, Ricki. It’s Rafe. It’s your boss. You shouldn’t look at him that way…. Why are you even looking at him that way?!’ I thought suddenly. I scoffed and turned my phone off to close my eyes; maybe I could get a nap in somewhere on this flight. Before I knew it, the warmth of the food in my stomach, the low vibrations of the plane, and the comfort of the couch paired with the multiple drinks I had seemed to be enough to send me to sleep. Then I began dreaming…

I was in the office. It was after hours by the looks of things. When I turned in my seat, the workroom was empty, all the desk lamps were on and I was the only one there. Looking down, I was dressed in a simple white collared shirt and a pencil skirt that seemed to be a tad shorter and tighter than normal. But it didn’t phase me one bit. Hard rock music played off of my speaker rather loudly and there was an unfinished email typed up on the computer before me. I sighed and turned around to continue working when I heard Rafe’s voice calling me. “Ms. Lewis, I need your assistance please!” He yelled. Like always, I groaned loudly and went stomping towards his office. When I walked in, he was sitting behind his desk with his legs kicked up on the edge. His hair was disheveled as I secretly realized I liked, the buttons on his vest undone and his tie loosened, the cuffs of his sleeves rolled off of his wrists displaying a fancy watch. I leaned into the doorway and placed a hand on my hip with a touch of attitude.

“What do you want, Rafe?” I asked, completely out of character. If I ever answered him like that for real, I would probably be fired. But instead of yelling, he just let his eyes run over my body, biting his lip with intrigue. I cocked my brow and crossed my arms, tapping my foot impatiently as a devious smile flashed across his face. My heart skipped a beat as he took his feet off the desk and turned his attention to his computer.

“I’m having a bit of trouble getting this PDF to open. Would you mind…?” He asked me. I blinked at him a moment and sighed.

“Yeah. Seeing as I have to do everything else for you.” I replied in annoyance. I started over to his desk and he moved out of the way. Not necessarily standing up, more like just rolled his chair away from the computer. I leaned over as he rested his head in his hand on the desk, so obviously gawking at me as I typed away. Suddenly, he reached out and pushed a lock of hair over my ear, his finger stroking my jaw and his hand running over my shoulder then down my back. His touch caused a stir in me and I let out a shaky sigh but I continued to work. The file wouldn’t open. It didn’t make any sense. I did what I would’ve done on my own computer. I opted to try again.

“What is it that Samuel has that I don’t?” He asked me suddenly, his hand rubbing circles at the small of my back. I was taken aback and snapped my head to stare at him. The look on his eyes was something hungry and needy; like he was trying to hold back from doing something.

“I… um—”

“What can he give you… that I can’t?” He asked, his hand slipping past my hips and over the rounds of my ass. My heart began to race as his fingers traced down the back of my leg. I almost went weak when he graced over the sensitive spot just above the back of my knee. His touch was so electrifying that I could barely think. He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he watched my reactions carefully.

“He… I don’t—”

“You don’t even know do you?” He seemed to smirk as his fingers ghosted over my inner thigh, slipping by the split in my skirt a bit. He gripped onto my thigh tightly and as he stood, his fingers brushed over my clothed clit. “Do you even want him? Hm?” He breathed into my ear, pulling my hair off of my neck and letting his nose trace my jawline. I had forgotten what I was even doing in his office to begin with since he started touching me. I took a slow and deep breath as his cold lips pressed against the warm skin of my neck. I closed my eyes with a shiver as he began massaging my through my panties. “Answer me, Lyric.” He demanded, slapping my ass rather harshly. I gasped from the contact and my hands began to shake in excitement.

“Rafe, I—”

“Mr. Adler…” he corrected me.

“Mr. Adler, I don’t know what you mean…” I sighed.

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you. The way you look at him… Why don’t you look at me that way, huh?” He asked, lifting my skirt as he stood behind me, running his hands over my ass gently. “Do you have any idea what you do to me, Ms. Lewis?” He groaned as he pressed himself against me, his hands now firm on my hips as he pulled me close to feel his growing hard-on. As he ran his hand up my spine, I felt my back arch for him. He continued to spank me until my cheeks turned red and the cool touch of his fingertips eased the pain. His fingers hooked around the hem of my panties and yanked them down my legs. He used his foot to kick my legs apart and carefully scooped up and handful of my hair, pulling on it a bit. He ran a chilling finger up my slick cunt and licked his fingers for a taste. He moaned in my ear as I let out shallow breaths.

“Just as I thought. You taste delicious…” He said and he continued to stroke my wetness until I was all worked up and began to finger me roughly. I was left groaning in need.

“Mr. Adler… please…” I whimpered, his fingers diving in and out of me.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” He asked in a deep alluring tone.

“Please fuck me—”

“Please fuck me, who?”

“Mr. Adler! Please fuck me, please!” I cried out. With a frustrated grunt, he pushed everything off of his desk, not caring about the mess and laid me down. He undid my blouse and cupped my breasts, leaving sloppy kisses all over my chest and he undid his belt. I didn’t see it but boy could I feel it as he entered me. He sucked on my nipples a while as I got used to his size and his hand travelled up to my neck, squeezing lightly as he began to move. He kept it slow, drawing out the feeling of my clit dragging along his length. I couldn’t keep myself from whining as he rolled into me.

“Fuck me harder.” I said suddenly. “Please fuck me harder, Mr. Adler.” I moaned, staring him right in the eyes. He gave an almost evil chuckle as he removed his tie from his neck and wrapped it around my wrists tightly, pushing my arms above my head. He hiked up my legs to wrap them around his waist and he began to drive into me. He hovered over me, staring into my eyes with so much lust and want as I squealed and moaned beneath him. He alternated between slow and fast paced, ramming into me until I felt myself beginning to come undone.

“Keep it up and you’re going to make me cum, Lyric.” He growled through his teeth, resting his forehead against mine with a satisfied lightly dimpled smile. And it was a damn gorgeous one at that.

“Cum in me. I want you to…” I shuddered. He laughed tiredly, cupping my cheeks with his surprisingly soft hands and kissing me deeply.

“Whatever you want…” He said darkly, his hand dragging from my cheek to my neck again. And this time he used both hands to choke me gently. He snapped his hips into me repeatedly, tears beginning to well in my eyes as I started to see stars.

“I’m gonna… I—” Just as I was about to release—

I felt a hand run down my shoulder, gently shaking me awake. When I opened my eyes, I was met with those striking greens and I gasped in embarrassment, moving away. Rafe has woken me up, sitting on the edge of the couch with a tired smile.

“Sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you.” He said kindly as I sat up, a thick fabric falling off of my shoulders. He’d covered me with his jacket. My heart raced under his touch and I could feel my face burning as I looked into his eyes. “We’re about to land. I figured maybe you’d want to see the sky view.” He told me, pointing to the window behind my head. I turned my head to see a beautiful sunrise over what looked to be the Colosseum. I gasped and rose to my knees like a child to get a better look. All of the beautifully sculpted buildings and the bluest waters…

“This is amazing…” I said unknowingly.

“Wait until we actually get into the city.” He said in a soft tone of wonder similar to mine. I looked over at him and we shared a smile. This weekend was going to be an adventure for sure...

Full story on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26598127/chapters/64850665