#( I honestly think abe knows he's more than the violence he portrays )

[cabbxges-and-kings]

WHERE  SHOULD  YOU  BE  KISSED  ?

* 𝐀𝐁𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐇𝐔𝐋𝐋

KNUCKLES

it feels as though you have fought every day of your life. sometimes, you cannot even tell how much of the blood on your hands is your own... and how much comes from those who've tried to hurt those you defend. you deserve the gentleness of a kiss to your bruised knuckles and broken skin, a reminder that you are not only made of violence.

TAGGED: @honorhearted​​ ( Thank you ! )

TAGGING: the majority that follow me has been tagged already so take this as anyone that has me on their dash

[countessacee]

I am so sorry c!pumpkinduo enjoyers but I have to get something off of my chest a lil.

Please I beg of you stop interpreting c!pumpkinduo (in manburg OR in Las Nevadas lore) as a healthy, loving dynamic. It’s like the biggest misinterpretation of a character dynamic I have seen in my whole life which has got to be an achievement. There were obviously silly and funny scenes between them, ones that made their relationship look like a good one and thats exactly the point. Toxic relationships are not a constant and unwavering hurt.

[more in Read More, this is gonna be a long one]

First reason, watch any Quackity manburg vod ever and pay attention to the semi-lore bits it is literally so obvious that for one, Schlatt did not love him back. Two, He did not respect Q, and three, anytime that was brought up it turned into threats. Anyone remember that one time Q stated c!Schlatt did not respect him and he just threatened to lobotomize Q so that he couldn’t think like that for himself? Because I sure do. It directly lead to c!Q canonically having a plan to impeach/execute him.

It was never carried through, honestly, but it’s the thought that counts. Suppose the good moments and bits of attention he got out of basically begging not to be made fun of for like two minutes worked out. Admittedly a lot of the making fun of was just them being silly, Schlatt telling him to go to the gym, calling him flatty patty and Q crying that one time but tears are tears ☠️

You guys forget the way that the two characters ended up. CQ brought up SERIOUSLY that he was tired of being disrespected and cast aside as an equal member of Manburg, and of being constantly mistreated, and Schlatt literally started to fight him. Like. Their marriage ended in a physical battle in which Q pulled out a crossbow to get him away and Schlatt taunted him for being a coward. Their marriage ended in cQuackity shooting him to death, and directly after he went to Pogtopia with hopes of actively working against him.

Though the biggest application to cPumpkinduo being blatantly toxic is the first Las Nevadas lore stream. The entire first section of it actually, which I was rewatching and gathering quotes from.

CQuackity explicitly stated several times that just the thought of being around cSchlatt makes him uncomfortable, and that he gets flashbacks/terrible memories when he’s with him. I genuinely do not know where people got the implications through any of his lore that this was a happy and loving relationship but it sure as hell wasn’t here. Cant be just me who hates ppl trying to take a canon abusive relationship and portray it as loving. Its like taking cdiscduo and being like omg best friends!! (But to what feels like a lesser extent)

Of course it wasn’t abuse to the extent that it was with cdiscduo or very typical violence you see in media, but it was still mentally abusive, and eventually they still got physical. (I could also talk ab how freaky it is for ppl to depict their relationship as s3xua11y abusive but thats for another time. Its annoyingly common.)

Another thing I notice people tend to do is, for some reason, say that c!sweaterduo is a better enemies to lovers dynamic or even ship Revived cSchlatt/Wilbur/Q, which if you think about for more than three fucking seconds youll see how weird that is. CSweaterduo legit just fucking despise each other not in the homoerotic, enemies yo lovers way, they just genuinely want each other to die. I promise making them get together at some point whether it be the elections or after revival is not the move you think it is. CPumpkinduo was a canonically abusive relationship, and adding cWilbur to the mix? Yeah, no. No thanks.

I can see cTntduo, but the complete mischaracterization of cSchlatt as a whole is just… Weird! Sorry, it’s weird. Making an abusive character loving and filled with guilt over his actions when that has never been canonically displayed (quite the opposite in fact) just to ship your favs is strange. Especially on the coumpkinduo end where cQ openly expressed that cSchlatt made him uncomfortable and upset just to think about because of the impression he left.

Anyways thats the end of my rant I hope you enjoyed.

[creacherkeeper]

Hays Code 

community fic  annie & abed friendship. pre relationship trobed  hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending  cw for discussion of historical homophobia and non graphic discussion of past suicidal thoughts  3600 words 

on ao3 

To be frank, Annie wasn’t in the mood. Not in the mood for what, exactly? Anything. Everything. Talking or not talking, eating, sleeping, breathing—just living, really, was going to push her over the edge. It was one of those days where all she craved was a good scream and maybe to fling her arms around a bit, but that wasn’t appropriate and honestly, you’re an adult now and is this how you get your way? So, she’d politely excused herself and walked just a tad extra fast all the way home. She just wanted to be alone.

Honestly, who gave an 89% on an essay? The only feedback she’d gotten was: “These words taste like radish in my mouth. I hate radishes.”

She slammed the door more forcefully than she should. The frame wasn’t very good, and Troy always said one day she was going to knock it down. There was a teacher at Greendale that knocked a door down that same way—slammed it a little too hard day in and day out, until not only the door, but the whole frame keeled right over. That teacher was doing it on purpose, though. Took him six years to prove some inexplicable point.

Maybe Annie should do that. Knock out a whole frame just so people stop pushing her.

Her backpack was flung to the ground, and, for just a moment, she let out a strangled wail. It wasn’t as satisfying as she wanted it to be, but there were neighbors and their creepy landlord, and, no matter how riled up she was, she didn’t want to cause any trouble.

She made her way to the kitchen, because if she couldn’t be happy, then at the very least she could have chocolate. It didn’t make things better, it didn’t really help, but … it felt like a little rebellion, every time. Troy and Abed had done a good job loosening her up (within reason), but it still felt like she’d won a little victory when she skipped dinner and just went straight for dessert.

Her hand was on the cabinet when she heard the shuffle from the other room. Her heart thudded. Her grip tightened. Troy and Abed were supposed to be in class (she was supposed to be in class), and if either of them were home, so to would be the sounds of dialogue, or music, or a video game track. The apartment was never just … quiet. Not unless she was by herself.

Her hand crept back to her side. It flexed like it might grip the handle of a gun, but she reminded herself she’d given it up when she moved into the apartment. She understood that it was different for her to have one than Troy and Abed, she really understood that, but her nerves got the better of her sometimes. Sometimes she missed it.

She slid the knife off the counter as quietly as she could.

She crept into the living room.

“Are you going to knife me?” Abed asked, face neutral.

Her heart and legs floundered. “Jesus Christ, Abed! You’re supposed to be in class.”

She could practically see Shirley’s disapproval of her choice of swear, but, okay, look, it wasn’t even really, technically, his name—if you went by the Hebrew, the more accurate—okay, no. No. She was getting off track.

Abed’s eyes followed the knife as she gestured towards him and then the blank TV.

“Why are you just sitting here in the dark? You scared me half to death!”

“Sorry.”

“Are you doing a scene where the character is thinking of something, and they’re silent, but going on this whole internal journey, and then, at the end, they jump up and run off camera to go do something dramatic?”

“No,” he admitted.

“Oh.” The knife dropped a bit. “Then what are you doing?”

“Thinking.”

They stared for a moment, Annie at his face, and Abed at the knife. It finally fell limp to her side as her eyebrows scrunched and mouth pursed in confusion.

“Oh. Okay.”

Her fingers twisted and curled around the handle. Abed went back to staring towards the TV—unusually and ominously blank.

She cleared her throat and quickly dropped the knife back in the kitchen, then tiptoed her way towards him.

“Is there … something bothering you?”

His head tilted back and forth almost imperceptibly as he decided how to respond.

“Just thinking about tropes.”

Her shoulders relaxed. That sounded more like him. She was almost worried that Abed had been abducted and replaced by a doppelganger, or that he’d gone into the dreamatorium alone and had gotten too stuck in a character. But he was just thinking about tropes. That was fine, that was Abed. The familiarity gave her enough confidence to approach fully and perch on the coffee table in front of his chair.

“I’m sorry I yelled,” she said, doing that little half-smile nose scrunch that always worked on Jeff. She wasn’t sure Abed even saw it, the way he was looking over her shoulder instead of at her, but the apology felt good to say. “Is there a trope you’re thinking about in particular?”

He hummed and gave a short nod. She waited for him to continue, but he just stared in that way that he did and rubbed his thumb over his fingers in a quick, anxious pattern.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, realizing her mistake. She’d asked a yes or no question and he’d answered it. “What trope are you thinking of?”

“Hays Code,” he shot off, a drum beat in the air.

The name sounded familiar. But sometimes the things Abed told her about were like a pipette drip in the tumultuous ocean of her brain. It didn’t mean she wasn’t listening, but it was drown out by the raging storm, the cutting rocks, the moon and the tides and the break on the shore—oh and sharks, maybe-

She shook her head.

“Would you mind explaining what that is?”

His finger rose in a point like he was going to begin, but it was an awkward, faltering second before the words actually began to spill from his mouth.

“Hays Code, or the Motion Picture Production Code, adopted and enforced in 1934. A set of morality-based guidelines that stifled American filmmaking with self-censorship rules until 1968. Among the guidelines were bans on sacrilegious profanity—like your little outburst just there—violence, drugs, sexual content, among other things.” His eyes flickered, only briefly. “Though not explicitly stated, the Code affected media portrayal of homosexuality, to the effect that it could not be portrayed without sufficiently condemning it as immoral, or …” His fingers continued their nervous dance. “-ending their story in tragedy. While the Hays Code was abandoned in 1968, its effects were deep-seated. That particular unspoken rule became what we now would refer to as ‘bury your gays’. The Code was abandoned, but the trope was too well established to die with it.”

She blinked. Her mouth felt dry. Her fingers wrung much like his from where they were held in her lap.

“Abed?” she asked.

“Yeah?”

“Can I sit with you?”

She’d never really asked before. Usually it was an unspoken assumption—that was Abed’s seat, and the other was Troy’s. She didn’t have one, so she sat with Abed. She’d never minded. It was nice. There weren’t many people she felt comfortable being that close to, but Abed was just the right amount of warm, and holding his hand felt like a star through cloud-cover, like a lighthouse on a familiar shore, a point of contact that kept her grounded and real and there.

But, she asks. This time, she had to ask.

Abed’s eyes glanced at her shoulder, at her hands, at her chin, back down.

“Yeah.”

He scooted over as she moved towards him, and instead of settling on the arm of the chair, she let her weight fall next to his, both of them crammed sharply together in the too small seat. He was trembling, just a little. She wondered if he’d eaten.

His hand slipped into hers.

Though her breath stuttered, she hoped it wasn’t enough that he’d notice.

“Abed, are you gay?”

For all that he could ramble, shroud his meaning in metaphor and obscure reference, Abed didn’t like when other people beat around the bush. He appreciated directness and honesty. So, though it felt to Annie like some dam had been broken, like all her soft guts would come spilling out at any moment, she asked the question as simply as she could.

The silence rang too long, though it couldn’t have been more than a moment.

“Maybe,” he said. His fingers wriggled, testing against hers. “I have liked the girls I’ve dated. Though it’s hard to tell if it’s more aesthetic appreciation, or- or if I just enjoy their company. Most of the ways people describe feelings are alien to me, so sometimes it’s hard for me to tell.”

“And with guys it feels the same?”

He shook his head, just a little. “Different. It … It feels different.”

Annie took as even a breath as she could, trying not to let her palm sweat against his own, though she didn’t, in the end, have much power over that.

“And thinking about the Hays Code has you worried that … that what you’re feeling is bad?”

He shook his head again, but it was a few seconds before he spoke.

“I’ve been trying to figure out my arc for a while,” he admitted. “Creating … contrived little schemes to nudge it this way or that. I’m not sure I can fight this one though. I don’t know if I can change how it ends.” He swallowed, throat bobbing. “The trope is well established for a reason.”

Annie’s hand squeezed his, not to comfort him, but out of reflex. She tried to relax it, blinking quickly against a sting in her eyes.

“And … the ending you’re worried you’re going to get …”

She let the sentence hang, because, frankly, she couldn’t find it within herself to finish. There was a knot in her throat she couldn’t swallow past.

Still, he took her meaning.

“Have you seen Dead Poet’s Society?” he asked.

Her stomach twisted. She nodded. She was glad he wasn’t looking at her, just staring towards the TV, because she wasn’t sure what her face would betray.

“Yeah.” His head jolted a bit. It was only slightly different from his thinking head tilt, but she recognized it as a sign of his nerves nonetheless. “It wasn’t a one to one metaphor, but it was about as blatant as it could be at the time. It still hit home for a lot of people.”

She cleared her throat, but it didn’t get rid of the choking feeling. “Have you thought about this before?” She wasn’t sure if he would gather her meaning—not the Code or the movie but … she couldn’t bring herself to even think it.

His lips pulled. He looked down at their conjoined hands, at Annie’s white knuckled grip.

“Not recently.”

Her grip relaxed, if only a little.

“But in the past?”

His shoulder shrugged against hers, and he let his thumb swipe back and forth over her knuckles.

“Kids are mean. Life is hard. You know how it is.”

She coughed out a little breath, nodding just a touch too quickly. “I get it. I do.”

Suddenly his brows furrowed, and his head swiveled towards her.

“Sorry,” he said, eyes darting back and forth over her expression. “I didn’t mean to make you worry about your own ending.”

Her eyebrows drew to mirror his.

“My …? Why would I be worried about my- Abed, you don’t think I’m gay, do you?”

His lips twitched at the side. He blinked.

“Sorry,” he said again. “Sometimes I misread people. I’m just very good at patterns, is all, and I’m a lot more observant than people think—”

“I’m not- You shouldn’t—” Her heart thudded like the crack of hooves at a horse race, and her eyes burned, and her stomach twisted. He couldn’t just- She never said- But he was watching her with that open, knowing stare, and she thought, if she couldn’t tell him right there, right then—if she couldn’t tell Abed, who had just put his heart on the table before her—when would she ever say it?

Her next words escaped as a croak.

“You can’t tell anyone.”

The understanding was quick to light his eyes. He nodded.

“I’m not ready to- I could never really—” She took a wet, shaky breath. “How long have you known?”

He looked as if he was weighing his answer. He was still staring at her with that intensity only Abed had.

“A while,” he told her eventually.

“Have you told any—”

“No.”

“Not even—”

“No.”

She let out a breath. “Okay.” She swallowed, squeezing his hand. “Okay.”

He settled back down next to her, head tilting softly downward. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“I’m not worried about tropes, Abed.”

“But you’ve thought about it, too.”

Her eyes darted away, around their living room. “About the Hays Code? No, I—”

“Annie.”

She froze. When Abed used her name like that, short, soft, she knew he was serious.

Her breath rattled through her nose. She pulled on his hand until their conjoined fingers were resting against her, arms wrapped around her in something like a hug.

“Kids are mean,” she repeated hoarsely. “Life is hard. You know how it is.”

He shifted a little closer. He nodded.

“I always felt like … like I had to be perfect. Like any little mistake, any slip up, any error, and … everything would come crashing down. I’d lose it all. Even as a kid, I knew my parents’ love was conditional.” Her swallow was harsh, tears dripping down her cheeks. “And so I took every advantage I could, because I thought … I thought I was just playing the game. I did everything I could to be at the top, because I thought being number one would keep me from losing.” She let out a laugh, breathy and bitter. “It didn’t. I just fell harder.”

She could feel Abed looking at her, but her gaze was fixed firmly on her lap. If it were someone else, Troy or Jeff, maybe Britta even, she’d want them to comfort her, to hold her, to tell her it was okay and that her fall from grace hadn’t been as bad as she thought. Abed didn’t, and she liked that. She liked that he just listened.

“I lost everything. My school, my scholarship, my friends … my family. I’d been thrown in the proverbial gutter and I just thought …” Her face pinched as she tried to get out the words. She shrugged. “Well, I’ll never be able to climb out of this one. There’s no point in …” She sighed. “If I hadn’t had been in the clinic, I don’t know. They watch for that sort of thing and, I don’t know, even in there I was so worried about being good. The day I got out, I enrolled in Greendale. It wasn’t what I thought my future was going to be, but it saved my life.”

There were a few beats of silence as her sentence hung, as her lips wavered and her eyes wept.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to make this about me.”

“It’s okay,” Abed responded, quiet, and she knew that he meant it.

“I’m sorry you’ve ever felt the same way.”

“Me too,” he said. “But—for you, though.”

A tiny laugh escaped her, and she shifted to rest her cheek on his shoulder. She lifted her free arm to wipe the wetness from her face.

“Abed … I know we’ve said this before, but … tropes are good for movies. Movies have arcs, narrative, structure. But real life isn’t that way. Our stories aren’t bound by convention and rules. Just because it happens in the movies, doesn’t mean that’s how your life is going to go.”

“Yeah.” His fingers moved in pattern between her own. “Movies make sense, though. Life doesn’t. Life is chaotic and messy and confusing. You never know what someone’s going to say next. You can guess, and I have, but you can’t know. You can’t keep the ending in mind when you’re watching. A good ending is logical—it’s the only correct solution to a puzzle you didn’t think to solve. There’s foreshadowing. There’s staging. Characters have motivations, and they’re not always clear—but if you don’t understand you can watch it again, and again, and again, until you get it. If you don’t like it, you can’t change what happens, but there’s a comfort in it always staying the same. You can laugh, you can cry, but barring that, you can just … be there. You can be affected as much as you’ll be affected and the movie doesn’t care one way or another. It just exists, and you do too. And in a way, that’s its own kind of peace.”  

Annie let that explanation wash over her, a display of emotion in its own logical kind of way. It made sense in the way that Abed frequently made sense if people just cared to listen. And for the moment, she didn’t feel like she had to respond, just sit there with him, listening in the way that he had listened to her, just existing with him like he obviously craved.

After a minute had passed of feeling his hand squeeze and loosen, watching his toes wiggle in his socks, she asked, “Abed, did something prompt all this? You seemed fine yesterday.”

He swallowed, fingers and toes stilling. Finally, she pulled away from him.

His eyes darted towards the open door of the dreamatorium, and hers followed.

Oh.

On the floor were strewn chocolates, different kinds in little wrappers, looking like they’d been thrown and fallen in their places. Only the corner of it was visible, but through the doorway she could see the rounded corner of a pink carton.

Valentine’s was coming up.

“You got those for someone,” she said, not really a question.

He hummed.

“You got those for Troy.”

This, too, was a statement. It was one she felt as sure of as anything else.

He hummed again.

“Were you worried he’d say no?” she asked, turning back to face him.

His eyes lingered on the abandoned chocolates.

“No,” she corrected herself. “That wasn’t it.”

“I’m not sure what my arc is,” he said slowly. “I can contrive it all I want—I don’t know what my ending’s gonna be. I can ponder, I can analyze, but … I don’t really know. And that scares me. It scares me as much as it scares anyone, I think. But Troy is … he’s not set in stone. I have my guesses. I know what I hope. But what if by asking him I seal his fate? What if I take him off the path of the prom king and star athlete and I- I railroad him into decades of unspoken rules and tragedy? I- I can’t do that to him, I- I can’t—”

“Abed.”

His mouth clamped shut.

She pulled his hand a little closer.

“Those are worries that I think, while maybe phrased in a different way, anyone would have. Life is hard and full of uncertainties, and … you and I both know it’s not any easier for us. It’s exponentially harder, in ways that most people wouldn’t even think of. Not because of movie rules or media tropes, but because … well … it’s just that much more uncertain. But, in spite of all that, I have one question for you.”

It was a very movie drama thing to say, and she knew it would draw his interest. His eyes slid to her, not meeting her own, but hovering around her nose, her mouth, her chin.

“Despite the uncertain ending,” she said, “despite the tropes, would it not be worth it if, along the way, he was happy?”

His head darted, just a little.

“Because, for whatever my opinion’s worth, I think if you asked him, he would be really, really happy.”

His eyes fell, down to the collar of her shirt, and she knew from his stillness that he was thinking.

Finally, he spoke.

“Your opinion’s worth a lot. More than most, at least. For the record.”

She huffed a laugh and leaned against him, letting her cheek rest against his shoulder once again.

“I know I’m a complete and utter hypocrite,” she said, “but sometimes I think you have to stop worrying about how it’ll all turn out and just embrace a moment for the moment that it is.”

“Wow,” he said flatly. “I don’t think I’ve seen you once practice that philosophy.”

“Oh, shut up,” she laughed.

He rocked their hands, leaning into her as well. “No, I get it, though. I do.”

“So …” She pulled back to look at him. “What’s the homage gonna be when you ask? What script are you working off?”

After a moment, he looked at her, face painted with an awkward little smile.

“I think maybe I’ll just wing it,” he said. “Speak from the cold, mechanical heart, and all that.”

A breath escaped her nose. She smiled at him. “Yeah. Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

For a few moments, there was quiet.

“Hey, Annie?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

He nodded, shy, and looked away again. The heat between their palms and their pressed-against sides was starting to become uncomfortable, but Annie didn’t want to leave. This was Abed, her Abed, her boys, and, if push came to shove, she could have stayed like that forever.

[lickmeleclerc]

|Forbidden| T.H {Chapter 2}

Pairing: Mob!Tom x Mob!Harrison x Cop!Y/n (female reader)

Summary: Y/n Lewis and Neil Haas are partners working for the N.Y.P.D. A break in the case of the big time mob families throws them into an undercover operation. The Holland’s and the Osterfeild’s are close to an all out war against each other that could crumble them both and land them in a high security prison for life. A bond needs to be made, a truce to cool off the tempers and resolve their disagreements. Can Y/n and Neil bust them before its too late? How far will Y/n go to catch New York’s #1 criminals?

Warnings: Violence, language, possible smut, Mob actions ??

@cherryhollands for this mood board!

     Forbidden /adjective/ not allowed; prohibited

“I can’t sleep.” Tom mumbles laying on his back one arm tucked behind his head as he stares at the tall vaulted ceiling. Y/n sighs as she sits up and spins around to face the apparently wide awake boy. They’ve been laying in silence for a while, a comfortable silence. Tom felt peaceful, he didn’t feel on edge or as if he had to do rounds around the house to make sure all his men were still keeping watch by all the entrances and exits. He enjoys Y/n’s presence.

 “I guess the everything but the kitchen sink sundaes shouldn’t have included your impressive supply of energy drinks and alcohol. Bad combination.” Y/n finally replies to his comment as she pulls the white dress shirt Tom has loaned her to wear to bed down covering her thighs more. She noticed a draw full of normal clothing, like T-shirts and sweats but his cheeky nature handed her one of his expensive dress shirt. It was his funeral though, Y/n knew how to work it.

 “Don’t be shy love.” He comments at her actions and looks down at her leg as he sits up more still leaning against the headboard. “We are businesses partners now, we shouldn’t have anything to hide.” He finishes and pulls off his pajama top. The girl sat before him in his large bed gasps softly at his actions.. His abs made her jaw drop slightly and the definition of his arms was more impressive than some of her co workers. She blinks trying to hold her composure while her eyes cascade down from his to his toned stomach.

 Y/n moved from sitting on her  butt hanging her legs off the side of the bed to now holding herself up on all fours. She crawls toward Tom his causing his breath to hitch in his throat as he watches her.

 “Let’s get comfortable then, Mr. Holland.” She whispers against his lips, her plump ones ghosting his as she spoke. The close proximity and the formal name she’d called him flipped a switch in him. One of his large hands grabbed her ass pulling her flush against him her thighs on either side of his hips and his other behind her head pushing their lips together. Both their mouths were parted so they easily started wrapping their tongues around each other. Y/n tasted like the fruity energy drink with a hint of scotch. It’s a taste he’d loved to get use too. Tom tasted like strong alcohol, it was definitely making Y/n hazy. She had to will herself to not get too carried away, but a little more fun couldn’t hurt. She moves her hips to grind down on Tom’s clothed bottom half. He bucks his hips into her at the action. The dress shirt slides up her thighs more looking more like a larger shirt on her top half, rather than the dress length it normally hug at. Her ass completely showing along with her slightly sexy panties covering the parts Tom really wanted to get to.

 “Are you familiar enough now?” She asks as she pulls away her eyes feeling heavy from the steamy make out session as she lays a hand on his pec.

 “No.” He sighs leaning forward to capture her lips again but she doesn’t fully commit to the kiss this time.

 “I think I’m familiar enough for tonight”. She smirks and flips off of him laying beside him in the empty space. Tom licks his lips still tasting her and rolls his eyes.

 “Fucking tease darlin.” He murmurs and looks at her. His shirt too big on her and the fact she hadn’t cared to button it up all the way left her chest nearly exposed. She’d shed her bra along with her dress and her nipples were hard under the thin material and Tom’s dick was hard as he looked at her laid on her back eyes closed with the gap in the top teasing him.

 “What if I’m not familiar enough. I do need to get to know my new business partner.....intimately.” He whispers the last word in a husky tone as he leans over the top of Y/n and begins to kiss her neck. Her eyes open wide as she gasps, his lips landing on her sweet spot right under her ear.. He bites it softly trying to leave a mark. She grabs his muscular arm and hitch’s a leg around his waist. When he pulls away and moves to her mouth she starts to giggle.

 “God dammit Y/n De Luca you’re one special girl.” He says as he pulls away sexually frustrated but honestly laughing at the girl under him. If only he knew just how special.

 “I think this mark on my neck will have everyone thinking we know each other intimately. We need to get some sleep.” She finally defuses the heated moment and he nods leaning to grab his shirt again. “You can leave that off though.” Y/n winks as she turns on her side, her back facing Tom. He shakes his head with a laugh throwing the shirt off the bed.

 “Come here.” He mumbles after clicking the light off and pulling her to his chest by her waist. His actions make the now sleepy girl laugh but let him hold her. Tom sighs contently at their position, it’s been awhile since he’s had someone to hold. Someone he knows wouldn’t sneak out in the middle of the night or was just with him for the payment.

 Y/n stretches and stirs she feels a grip tighten around her waist and smiles at his actions but a headache has found itself in her temples and she squints at the bright rays of light seeping into the room.

 “Are you two ever going to wake up.” A stern voice calls throughout the room. Y/n’s eyes shoot open snapping back to her sense immediately reaching for her dress that lays next to the bed ready to grab her knife..

 “Harrison what the fuck are you doing in here?” Tom questions, he would have been on edge too if he hadn’t recognized the familiar voice. Y/n slows her actions and pulls the covers over her adjusting her hair. The white button up Tom had cheekily loaned her last night was riding up and some buttons had popped open in the night.

 “Well next time I’ll get to fuck the pretty girl you can-“

“Hey!” Tom cuts him off mid sentence at his demeaning comment about the girl next him. y/n takes note of his reaction surprised he made Harrison stop.

 “Well?” He questions giving a looming loom between the two. Their appearance did leave it to look as if they’d had a romp in the sheets last night even though it was just some playful teasing and one steamy make out. Y/n had others ideas in mind for his assumption though.

 “Oh come on Mr. Holland, he’s not wrong.” Y/n smirks going along with his comment as she steps off the bed scooping her dress off the ground in a swift action showing her ass off. Two pairs of eyes laid on her, well not her, but the De Luca her and that part of Y/n loves every moment. Something about portraying another person, not having to be herself is nice.

 “Uh um. Get dressed Tom.” Harrison speaks pulling on his collar as he clears his throat before exiting the room. Tom smirks shaking his head at her his curls fall on his forehead and into his eyes the hairspray wore off from his sleep. He can’t seem to figure her out.

 “Stupid dress.” Y/n mumbles as she slides it up her legs and around her hips, once it’s securely over her breasts she slips the loaned shirt over her head and saunters over to person of interest.  

 “Thanks for the loan.” Her eyes hold a hidden passion behind them. Tom takes a breath his mouth agape as he watches her. Damn this woman.

 “Keep it.” He quickly answers the same expression still plastered on his face. She stops and spins back around to face him trying not to lose eye contact and focus on his abs. “Something to remember me by.” He adds with a wink. Quickly thinking on her toes she holds in a snarky smile.

 “Oh Tom,,, how could I forget you.”

 The way his first name slips from her lips has him questioning the beat of his heart and the way his palms start to feel. He shakes his head and walks to the bathroom to get dressed for the day, if she could make him feel a certain way, he’d have to up his game. Weakness in this business doesn’t reap benefits, it’d make him a target and Tom Holland could not have a weakness, especially one so beautiful.

 Harrison rolls his eyes as Y/n enters the kitchen, the mess they’re left behind last night is nowhere to be seen leaving the kitchen looking untouched. She spots Neil sat at the large table with a spread of assorted breakfast items on it. It looks like something out of a gourmet food magazine.

 “Good morning.” She softly speaks directed toward her partner. He nods at her inquiring if she’s okay when he quickly notices the hickey. She rolls her eyes quickly and nods. Neil loosens from his stiff position and let’s a breath out. He wouldn’t be able to contain himself if he’d let his partner down.

 “Help yourself Y/n.” Harrison gestures toward the food. “I know you sure did last night.” He mumbles under his breath as he adjusts one of his diamond cuff links. Now if Y/n hadn’t been around jealous boys before she would of taken his comments as slut shaming but the way he grumbled about it was a sign of jealousy. She laughs and flips her hair over her shoulder showing more of her chest as she stands in front of him.

 “You know Harrison. I could show you a good time too.” As Y/n holds to her cover she loses her appetite at the words. Harrison holds a cold look his eyes flicking over Y/n before he walks out of the kitchen without a word. As she takes a seat next to sipping on a an already poured glass of apple juice her thoughts about the operation so far run through her head along with the headache. Neil  bites his lip at her comment toward Harrison holding back a laugh. He’d never been undercover with Y/n in all the years they've been partners but he’s very impressed with her commitment. Within himself he finds trouble sticking to who he is supposed to be. Almost slipping up and mentioning his new baby girl would surely raise questions and blow the siblings act going on.  

Harrison and Tom re enter the kitchen, tom is in a maroon suit with a black dress shirt underneath. He has the top three buttons left open with no tie. When he lays his dark eyes on Y/n looking sleepy eyed as she plates some fresh fruit along with some jam on toast. He notices she’s in the same dress as yesterday he can’t find himself okay with that and sends a message to his driver, Theo.

 “Okay. In five days a shipment comes in and with the extra million I, we I mean we, are able to add an additional grams of heroin plus the limited five firearms the seller disclosed to me are on this boat.” Harrison goes straight to business only drinking what looks like black coffee. Neil leans his elbows on the table with a nod, his 5 o’clock shadow showing in the light shining in from the kitchen.

 “I’m assuming you’d like us to be there? The more present will show our power.” He chimes in and glaces between his two superiors. Harrison and Tom glance at eat other trying to see what the each other is thinking. Tom wouldn’t mind having some eye candy but his impression of Neil so far leaves him planning to get rid of him soon. Harrison enjoys a new partner who is all about business like he is.

 “I don’t want to go to a gross warehouse.” Y/n chimes in testing the waters of how much surveillance they want of her and her brother. The three men around her smirk and remain silent for a moment as she continues looking down at her plate eating the fresh strawberries. Tom enjoys how innocent she looks, but he knows she must have a desire for danger to be here and even though their night together seemed innocent and fun but in the back of his mind he has to hold onto the warning his father gave; downfalls start with distractions and distractions happen in many forms, especially those with soulful eyes and gentle touches. The poetic words of his father ring in his ears but he shakes his head stopping them, he can control this.

 “We need eye candy to test the goods.” Harrison’s silky voice answers her, she looks up from her plate finally as the words register in her head even though it's aching still.

 “It’d be my pleasure.” Y/n thinks quickly on her toes, show no hesitations, stick to the role, dedication. The three key tips profiler Watson repeated multiple times to the pair stayed at the forefront of Y/n’s mind.

 “Do we need to prepare for anything else before hand?” Neil questions furrowing his eyebrows at the two British men his voice thicker from the syrup on his half eaten pancakes.

 “Yes, we’re taking you to the shooting range today and meeting with some men from the dinner last night. A deal fell through and they’d rather allie with us, the hierarchy, rather than try to build from the bottom up to overcome us. A smart move.” Tom explains popping a piece of cantaloupe into his mouth. Before Y/n can object that she should be allowed to tag along a muscly bald man enters the kitchen. Neil and Y/n look to Tom and Harrison for a reaction if he’s a threat or not.

 “The items you requested are in your room.” The man speaks and slides the dark sunglasses to the top of his head revealing a forest green eye and a dark brown one. The difference in eye color was more intimidating than Harrison’s piercing glare Y/n had unfortunately been the recipient of.

 “Darlin, follow me.” Tom clears his throat and holds a hand out for Y/n. She looks at him quizzically before taking it and following him out of the kitchen. Harrison signs an aged look on his face. Neil sees the tension now, Harrison is very focused on the work of this almost as if he has to prove something in this. He doesn’t live like Tom, it's a job to Harrison not a lifestyle like it is for Tom.

 Y/n and Tom enter the familiar room they spent the night together in but this time the floor is littered in shopping bags from expensive places; Coach, Gucci, Armani, Louis Vuitton, ect. Y/n’s eyes grow wide at the sight as she looks back at Tom.

 “There all yours darlin.” He smiles at her the look on her face has Tom satisfied.

 Oh you shouldn’t have!” She exclaims turning and jumping to wrap her arms around Tom’s neck, his strong arms wrap around her waist and pull her close. Y/n can smell his cologne and she takes another deep breath of it before they pull apart.

 “Well I think I’ll sit right here while you try everything on.” He smirks knowing what the bags contain as he pulls the chair away from the desk in the room and sits down unbuttoning his jacket as he sits comfortably awaiting the start of the soon to come enjoyable moment. Y/n looks in the bags each contains lingerie along with beautiful dresses, some cocktail shape others sundresses. She rolls her eyes once realization hits there's more lingerie than dresses and decides to save those for later. When her sparkling eyes land on the maroon material she knows the matching in outfits might boost Tom’s confidence, she’s done well to keep that in mind and isn’t going to stop just yet, he needs to open up to her. Speaking of opening up Y/n opens his medicine cabinet in the bathroom eyeing the pill bottles inside, nothing eye catching just normal painkillers and extra toothpaste along with a box of condoms. Someone like him, this life tells Y/n he wouldn’t hide his secrets in plain sight; everyone checks medicine cabinets when snooping it was worth a shot, leave no stone unturned.

 “Oh Mr. Holland.” Y/n sing songs as she excites the bathroom. He’s relaxed posture in the chair leaves his legs spread apart, as if he’d been imagining you exiting in some of the assorted undergarments he’d picked out for you his eyes were already lust filled.

 “How can you make a dress sexier than a bra and thong princess.” his words are husky and she slowly walks over to him not saying a word. Y/n straddles Tom’s waist and leans close to his ear her lips running over it as she speaks the cold air hitting his skin gives him goose bumps that stay hidden under his jacket.

 “I know how, I’m not wearing any.” An audible moan leaves his lips and he can’t help but grab her waist tighter at the thought. She moves to slide his jacket off a rustle of paper in his pocket rustles and she catches a glimpse of an address. 1876 Scotts lane, New Zealand. As Y/n continues to seduce the mobster she repeats it over and over in her head so not to forget. Tom relishes in the moment with Y/n thankful to have someone to blow off steam with. After leaving open mouth kisses on his neck and feeling him relax to her touch she pulls back.

 “I think we should save the rest of this for tonight, we have formal business to attend to.” She speaks looking deep into his eyes, She needs to get the address written down soon even though it feels imprinted in her mind. He nods begrudgingly and they both return down stairs.

 “Can I have a minute Tom?” Harrison asks before they reach the first floor, with a nod Tom and Harrison enter the room Y/n wanted to keep an eye on once she arrived here, only catching a small glimpse of the inside she concludes that's where all the serious business goes down.

 “Okay I got an address.” Y/n whispers to Neil as she takes a seat on the large leather sofa by him. He looks surprised at his partner that she already got something within the first two days. She explains its way out of their jurisdiction but to be speaking with someone over seas it could lead to disbanding not just the Holland’s and Osterfield maybe others to. Neil scribbles it down in the back of his notebook and Y/n decides she’ll make contact with her chief about it.

 “I’m worried about the pick up, I don’t think it sounds like a good idea.” Neil explains and Y/n looks at him quizzically. He sighs before continuing.

“Some people in on the buy are bailing out without reason and it’s in a new drop off point that no one has been too. Tom is assured no one will mess with them and it’ll be fine but I don’t think he’s being smart about it-”

 “Are you calling me an idiot Neil?” Tom’s stern voice rings through the living room, Y/n and Neil turn quickly to face the two who have exited quietly. How much have they heard? Tom has clenched fists as he walks in front of Neil grabbing him by the collar of the knock off dress shirt. “I don’t appreciate your lack of trust Neil, maybe it is time you get put in your place.” His jaw is clenched and the fire behind his eyes would put the fear into anyone's bones.

  “I’m sorry Tom I shouldn’t of said anything. I trust your families and I wouldn’t consider pulling out of the deal.” Neil works to defuse the situation. Tom has a gut feeling Neil is no good and the anger can’t be contained as he draws back an arm with a clenched fist and swiftly punches Neil in the face. Y/n stands and gasps but before she can get to her partner a man in steps in front of her gripping her arm tightly holding her in her place.

 “Think about that next you want to question us.” Tom glares at Neil who holds a hand to his bleeding cheek, his already starting to swell as he walks back to his office slamming the door. The expensive painting hanging on the wall swings from his actions, all Y/n can think about is getting to Neil.

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